#confession: marcus is an oc

[multishipperbish]

Oh, my darling dopamine Does the reward outweigh the risk? Well I'm on the fence Is a numbing normalcy on tap Worth a week trembling and sick

My Darling Dopamine - Days N' Daze (video under cut)

[noxachi]

everyone wants this to happen, especially: me

Marcus belongs to @ghoulcaro. Duman is mine.

[littleprinces]

Day 9: BBC

NMIXX Jiwoo x OC

Kinkvember Day 9

Jiwoo, a petite 19-year-old Korean girl with blonde hair and almond-shaped eyes, was new to the city. She had moved to San Francisco for school, and her curiosity was piqued by the diversity and culture that surrounded her. One evening, she found herself at a small jazz club in North Beach, where she was immediately drawn to the man on stage.

Marcus was tall, Black, and strikingly handsome. His deep voice resonated through the club as he sang a sultry jazz tune. Jiwoo watched him from her table, her eyes never leaving him. After his set, he approached her, his smile warm and inviting. "You enjoyed the show?" he asked.

"Very much," she replied, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I'm Jiwoo."

"Marcus," he said, extending his hand. "New in town?"

"Just moved here for school," she said, shaking his hand.

He smiled. "Welcome to San Francisco. How about I buy you a drink?"

Over the next few weeks, Jiwoo and Marcus met regularly. They shared stories, laughs, and even a few stolen moments of intimacy. One evening, after a concert, they found themselves walking along the Embarcadero. The air was cool, and the city lights reflected on the bay.

Marcus turned to Jiwoo, his eyes reflecting the city lights. "I have to confess something," he said.

"What's that?" she asked, her breath visible in the cool air.

"I've been thinking about you... a lot," he said, his voice low. "And not just about laughing and talking."

Jiwoo looked up at him, her eyes wide. "Oh yeah?"

He nodded, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I want to take you home, Jiwoo."

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Okay."

Back at Marcus's apartment, they wasted no time. He led her to his bedroom, where they kissed deeply, their tongues exploring each other's mouths. Jiwoo's hands roamed his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt.

Marcus broke the kiss, trailing his lips down her neck. "You're so beautiful, Jiwoo," he murmured.

She moaned softly, arching her back as his lips found her nipple through her shirt. He teased it with his tongue, making her squirm. He unbuttoned her shirt, revealing her small, pert breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently.

"Marcus," she gasped, her hands clenching his hair.

He smiled against her skin, moving to the other nipple. His hands went to her waist, slipping under her skirt. He found her panties, wet with her arousal. He rubbed her clit through the fabric, making her moan.

"You're ready for me, aren't you?" he asked, his voice husky.

"Yes," she breathed.

He slid her panties down, his fingers stroking her wet folds. He slipped a finger inside her, making her gasp. He kissed her deeply, tasting her on his fingers. "You're tight, Jiwoo," he said. "I can't wait to feel you around my cock."

He pushed her back onto the bed, trailing kisses down her stomach. He looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire. "I want to taste you," he said.

Jiwoo bit her lip, nodding. Marcus spread her legs wider, his tongue finding her clit. He circled it, making her moan and squirm. He slipped a finger back inside her, curling it to hit her G-spot.

"Oh god," she gasped. "That feels so good."

Marcus smiled, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to bring her to the edge. Jiwoo's hands clenched the sheets, her body tensing as her orgasm built. "Marcus," she gasped. "I'm close."

He redoubled his efforts, his tongue flicking her clit as his finger stroked her G-spot. Jiwoo cried out, her body convulsing as her orgasm hit. Marcus licked her slowly, bringing her down from her high.

Jiwoo looked down at him, her eyes hazy with pleasure. "That was amazing," she said.

Marcus grinned, kissing his way back up her body. He paused at her breasts, sucking each nipple before continuing up to her mouth. Jiwoo could taste herself on his lips, and it turned her on even more.

Marcus reached into his nightstand, pulling out a condom. Jiwoo watched as he rolled it on, her eyes widening at the sight of his large, black cock. She had never seen one so big.

"Don't worry," he said, seeing her expression. "I'll be gentle."

Jiwoo nodded, spreading her legs to allow him to settle between them. He rubbed the head of his cock against her wet pussy, coating it in her juices. He pushed slowly, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside her.

Jiwoo gasped, her nails digging into his back. "You're so big," she breathed.

Marcus smiled, beginning to move. "You feel incredible," he said.

He set a slow, steady rhythm, allowing Jiwoo to adjust to his size. He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a deep kiss. Jiwoo's legs wrapped around his waist, her hips moving in time with his.

"Faster," she gasped.

Marcus complied, his hips moving faster, his cock sliding in and out of her with increasing speed. Jiwoo moaned, her body writhing beneath him. He pulled out of her suddenly, making her whimper.

"Don't worry," he said, flipping her over onto her hands and knees. "I want to try something else."

Jiwoo looked back at him, her eyes wide. He rubbed the head of his cock against her ass, coating it in her juices. He pushed gently, the head of his cock sliding into her tight hole.

Jiwoo gasped, her hands clenching the sheets. "It's too much," she said.

Marcus paused, allowing her to adjust. He leaned down, kissing her back. "Relax," he murmured. "You're doing so well."

He pushed slowly, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside her. Jiwoo moaned, her body trembling. Marcus began to move, his hips sliding against her ass.

"Oh god," she gasped. "It feels so full."

Marcus smiled, picking up the pace. He reached around, his fingers finding her clit. He rubbed it in time with his thrusts, making Jiwoo moan and push back against him.

"Deeper," she gasped. "Ooh, deeper."

Marcus complied, his cock sliding deeper into her ass. Jiwoo's moans filled the room, her body trembling as her orgasm built.

"Yes," she gasped. "Yes, yes, yes."

Marcus redoubled his efforts, his cock sliding in and out of her ass with increasing speed. Jiwoo's orgasm hit, her body convulsing as she cried out his name.

Marcus continued to thrust, his own orgasm building. He could feel his cock throbbing, his balls tightening. He pulled out of her suddenly, his cock exploding, his cum shooting onto her back.

Jiwoo collapsed onto the bed, her body trembling. Marcus fell beside her, pulling her into his arms. They lay there for a moment, their bodies entwined, their breaths slowly returning to normal.

Finally, Jiwoo looked up at him, a smile playing on her lips. "That was... intense," she said.

Marcus grinned, kissing her forehead. "And it's only the beginning," he said.

[thepascalparadox]

Chapter two: Everything feels...

Word Count | 1.9k Pairing | General Marcus Acacius x OC F!Reader Chapter Warnings | slow burn, mention of the activities of the colisium, Acacius being a confused man. There'll be some author's note in the end. masterlist series “From where I stood, the general was the most striking man I had ever laid eyes upon.” “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Vera. He looks... well, old and weary,” You said with a light tone.

“ I wouldn’t call him old. Word is, he hasn’t even seen thirty summers yet. And as for weary—he carries it as any soldier should” she replied with a grin.

Vera nudged your shoulder playfully, a gesture that spoke of the ease and familiarity between you. You feel tired and ready to take a good night of sleep—tomorrow would be a long day. Your father had planned a grand celebration in honor of General Marcus Acacius, with feasting and music from dawn till dusk.

Such celebrations always filled you with a peculiar joy. For at least one day, you could shed the weight of expectations, lose yourself in dancing and revelry, and be as free as any common citizen.

“Well,” You smirked, “tomorrow, you’ll have your chance to meet him. You could look into those famed eyes and say—”

Without hesitation, you took Vera by the waist, adopting a dramatic pose as if you were the general himself. Mocking the voice of a lady overcome with admiration, you declared: “General Marcus Acacius, you are the most handsome man I have ever beheld!”

Vera erupted into laughter, her mirth echoing through the room as your exaggerated performance ended.

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · · The celebration began, and the day unfurled with a vivid splendor. Everything feels perfect. The music, the food, the flowers, even the way your dress touches your skin feels perfect. Hours passed in laughter and dance until your feet ached, and the cacophony of music and merriment became overwhelming. Seeking a quiet place, you slipped into the cool solitude of the back garden. The night’s breeze kissed your flushed cheeks, and the stillness wrapped around you like a gentle embrace. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment. A soft laugh escaped you as you tried to recall the last time you had so much fun. No more wine for the night.

“I see the evening agrees with you, Lady Aurelia,” came a deep voice from behind, startling you from your reverie.

You turned quickly, your heart skipping a beat. There, standing tall under the pale light of the moon, was General Acacius himself.

“Dominus,” you greeted, offering a somewhat unsteady bow, made less graceful by the wine. “I—indeed—I am enjoying the festivities,” you added, a smile lingering on your lips despite yourself. You should definitely not be smiling like this alone with a man like him.

And yet, there was something about his presence that felt oddly reassuring, disarming even. To your surprise, his own lips curved into the faintest of smiles.

“The feast is remarkable,” he said, his tone warm with amusement. “Your father truly knows how to host a celebration worthy of the gods.” He paused, then added in a conspiratorial whisper, “Though I confess, after such a day, I long for nothing more than the embrace of my bed.”

The way he spoke, as if sharing a secret meant for you alone, made you chuckle softly. The conversation flowed easily as you strolled through the moonlit garden paths.

He humbly spoke of his long campaigns—two hundred days away from home, he said, with the weariness of a man who had seen much and yet carried it with quiet dignity. “If I could, I’d sleep for three days without stirring,” he mused.

Feigning seriousness, you teased: “So, you reject the grand festivities my father has arranged in your honor? Even the games in the arena tomorrow?”

He stopped abruptly, his expression turning grave. “Forgive me, Domina,” he said earnestly. “I meant no disrespect. Your father is as dear to me as my own. I would lay down my life for him. The celebrations are an honor beyond words. As for the arena—” He hesitated, his gaze shadowed. “I respect his traditions deeply.” You couldn’t help but laugh softly at how seriously he had taken your jest. Following Vera’s example from the night before, you nudged his shoulder lightly. “I was jesting, soldier,” you said with a grin.

But the moment the words left your lips, you faltered. Your familiarity had crossed a line, and you realized with a pang of regret that he was not a childhood friend to banter with so casually. Drawing back, you lowered your gaze, chastened.

“Forgive me, General,” you murmured, your voice tinged with shame. “The wine has loosened my tongue more than it should have. I fear I’ve overstepped my place.” With a hurried bow, you added, “I wish you a restful night. If you’ll excuse me, I must retire to my chambers.”

Before he could respond, you turned and left, your steps quickened by the heat of embarrassment. It felt as though you were fleeing a ghost—one whose presence had stirred something within you that you did not yet understand.

But the soldier was no ghost—not at all. If you had looked back, you would have seen how utterly taken by surprise the General was. He parted his lips, as if to say something—anything to make you stay—but no words came. He simply stood there, watching as you walked away.

If only you knew how his heart felt just a little weaker with your departure. · · ────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

Your head throbbed. The deafening roars of the crowd, mingled with the clash of gladiators within the coliseum, did nothing to help. Attending the games was a duty you loathed above all others. You recalled your mother’s soft whispers when you were a child, not much older than six, as she leaned close during your first visit.

"You don’t have to look. Find something else to occupy your mind—count the soldiers in the stands, the women, the children..."

And so, every time you were forced to sit in that pit of violence, you obeyed her advice. Today, you noted there were more children and soldiers than before. The coliseum itself seemed different, too—three additional beams along the upper gallery, and a newly constructed gate to the prisons below.

Why does it grow larger every time I return?

You pressed your fingertips to your temples, moving them in slow circles to soothe the ache in your skull. The rhythmic motion was your only solace against the chaos surrounding you.

“I see the revelry of last night has caught up with you, Lady Aemilia.”

The voice was soft, tinged with humor. It came from the seat beside yours, where General Acacius sat. His words hung in the air, and with a light tone, his gaze lingered on you, searching for something.

Is he mocking me? Have I become his amusement?

Your eyes remained shut, but your tone turned sharp as you replied. “I expect respect from you, General, as I have shown you nothing but the same.”

Have you forgotten how to address a lady, Marcus?

The sting of your words landed precisely as intended. You heard him shift uncomfortably, and though your eyes were closed, you could sense the weight of his regret. Ever since your arrival, he had been looking for a way to earn your attention—desperate to hear your voice again, even if only to rebuke him.

Perhaps if I make her laugh...

He had misjudged, thinking of last night’s fleeting, playful moment when your shoulders had touched. He wished for that again—a simple touch, no matter how brief.

“I didn’t mean—” he stammered, pausing to collect himself. Then, taking a deep breath, he began again, his tone softer. “I wasn’t trying to mock you, Lady Aurelia. I only... Please, forgive me. I truly hope your headache eases soon.”

There was something in his voice that made your resolve falter, a sincerity that bordered on vulnerability.

If I could, I would take the pain from you and bear it myself, carissima.

You opened your eyes, finally meeting his gaze. For a moment, you saw the weariness etched into his face, more pronounced than the night before, as though he hadn’t slept at all. The sight gave you pause, but you said nothing.

Instead, his expression shifted, his features hardening into the same stoic mask he wore before his men. Diverting his eyes, he straightened in his seat, retreating behind his soldier’s composure.

Have I hurt him?

Before you could dwell on the thought, the cries of the crowd swelled around you. The word they chanted took a moment to register, and when it did, a familiar chill ran down your spine.

Death.

Your father rose from his seat, commanding the attention of the entire coliseum. Slowly, deliberately, he raised his hand. The crowd fell silent, holding its collective breath. But you knew what would come next.

His thumb turned downward. The crowd erupted in cheers, and another life was extinguished.

You flinched, as you always did. The hollow ache in your chest never lessened, no matter how many times you witnessed this. Bowing your head, you prayed silently for the soul of the fallen.

From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the General. He had risen as well, but the look in his eyes was not one of approval. Fury smoldered there, dark and restrained. Without a word, he turned and left his place, seeking an exit from the coliseum.

You felt an inexplicable longing to follow him. You weren’t sure if it was to escape the horrors of the arena or simply to be with him—anywhere, as long as he was there beside you. · · ─────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

You felt no inclination to read or write today, so you wandered to the principal garden instead. The serenity there always held a quiet magic for you. How you longed to see the untamed fields beyond the city walls, where birds soared freely and the wind danced through the trees, carrying with it the fragrance of wildflowers.

Your steps were slow as you moved among the blooms, the gentle rhythm of your walk an attempt to soothe the lingering ache in your head.

I am never drinking again. Never, ever.

“Lady Aemilia Aurelia,” came the voice of the guard assigned to you. His tone was respectful but firm, pulling you from your thoughts. “A letter has arrived for you.”

You turned to him, accepting the letter with a nod of thanks. Curiosity flickered in your mind as you examined it. It couldn’t have come from one of the maids—they had been dismissed for the day. And letters from beyond the palace, whether from princes or clandestine admirers, always passed through your father’s hands first.

Carefully, you opened it, and to your surprise, a small flower fell from within. Its delicate petals rested lightly in your palm, and you lifted it to your nose, inhaling the sweet, calming aroma.

The letter was brief, the handwriting unmistakably bold yet neat:

"This bloom is known for its healing properties, particularly for those burdened with aches of the head. I hope it brings you relief. Your loyal General, Marcus Acacius."

The ache in your head eased almost at once, but now, inexplicably, something else stirred—a gentle, unfamiliar ache in a different corner of your heart.

That night, as sleep claimed you, the faintest of smiles lingered on your lips.

next chapter · · ────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

AN: I know pedro is beyond thirty years but this is how I imagine him for this fic. It is actually very dificult to keep it historically accurate, but I hope you understand! I will insert some references to the balls that happened in Pride and Prejudice and Bridgerton, but I think it'll be all. There's nothing I love more than an unconfortable dance between too characters who love each other in secret!

[maraudersidk]

Female percy weasley (persephone) is so good like trust guys.

THE DEPTH OF HER AND GINNYS RELATIONSHIP. Like its giving girl, so confusing.

Also her and molly because mother daughter relationships are heartbreaking.(that one scene from ladybird, the whole movie actually)

HER WANTING TO BE MINISTER OF MAGIC AS A WOMAN!!!!LIKE THE ANGST

Everything is better when its women. They make me sick.

ALSO HER AND OLIVER WOULD BE THE GIRL AND BOY PREFECTS😝😝😝. Like ok i see u. Rendezvous during their rounds 100%.

Also oliver would be prefect cuz he would be the only male gryffindor.

Also her leaving and having the fight with arthur would be 10x more angsty cuz thats his baby girl like she was his first daughter and she definitely was a daddys girl growing up-she wanted to work in the ministry and her dad alr did so.

Also i made up a gc that prefects and head girl/boys get their own private dorms and it has a little common room and her and oliver would sit there at night and talk (make out)

ALSO this is alr my hcs for male percy i just wanna clarify cuz it feels like if i dokt im making her into an object between them all but:

her and marcus having a cute little relationship in fourth year cuz she was tutoring him, him being nicer to oliver off the pitch cuz she asked, oliver watching them and trying to not let his jealousy show. Marcus being perse's first friend other than oliver (who she thought only hung out with her for charlie or because of her notes) him showing her how amazing and smart she really is and fighting any slytherins who made comments abt her hair or looks or clothes. Marcus building up her confidence🤍.

Them breaking up in fifth year (it was mutual no bad blood they're besties) she starts talking to a hufflpuff named daniel (OC) him being a prefect so oliver always has to deal with his presence and be hates it because as much as he tries he can't hate him because hes just so nice. Daniel noticing how oliver looks at her and seeing how she looks at oliver (she didnt realize yet) Daniel giving little hints to help her see her feelings. Him comforting her and being so understanding when she does.

THEN SIXTH YEAR HAPPENS *this one's a doozy* perse was planning on talling oliver her feelings at the beginning of the year (after about 100 letters from marcus and daniel hyping her up - marcus threatening to beat him up and daniel sayung she should get chocolates). BUT when she was about to talk to him when they got bsck to school she sees oliver accepting a date from a girl named Sophie (sephie-sophie, see what i did there) in the year below, her running away and ignoring oliver for as long as she can. Perse befriending roger davies and they decide on a no strings attached (daniel did not approve, marcus found it hilarious and asked to join). Oliver goes ok the date but ends up rambling about perse for most of it ("shes so smart", "her hair is so pretty", "shes so helpful with my quidditch plays") sophie trying to ignore it until she can't and confronts him about it at the end of the date. Oliver apologies like crazy and end up spilling the past six years to sophie (shes too nice for her own good). They end uo with a weird tension between them up until right before Christmas break they make up and give each other gifts (no confession yet). Atp roger is just perse's theapist and gives her advice while they slack off on rounds to sneak to the kitchen. Near the end of the year the stress of exams and just generally everything that happened that year and penny (roger introduced penny and perce and they're THAT duo) they end up blowing up on each other and cue angry love confession.

I don't have all of this thought out but this was a very very summurised version of what happened (theres sm more angst for perce😁) this was supposed to be a trans perce psot but turned into perciver. What can is say guys they have me in a chokehold.

I might talk more about this cuz shes consuming me and she's so me. Sorry for the rant🤷🏻‍♀️

[smilingformoney]

An Unlikely Reunion | Elliott Marston/OC

Summary: When a visitor to the station sets his eye on Elliott Marston's wife, Elliott must remind her who she belongs to.

AN: Guys, I have a confession to make.

When I started writing Sins of the Flesh, I only expected to write a one shot, so I made the main character our beloved Y/n. But as it snowballed into the story it is today, she became a character of her own, with backstory and personality, and quite frankly I think she's my favourite character I've ever written.

So from now on when I write her, she'll be Mary Taylor, the OC she was always meant to be. I hope you love her as much as I do <3

Also, you'll note this takes place in the timeline where Mary and Elliott end up together. I still consider the ending where he dies to be canon but Mary and Elliott are too cute not to play with!

Tags: fluff, smut, jealousy, outdoor sex

Word Count: 6.6k

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

When Mary had first arrived at Marston Waters with Elliott, one of the first things he did was to build an extra room to his house for her to use as a workshop. She appreciated having the space, although she preferred if she could to be in the lounge to be closer to Elliott while he worked at his desk.

She was in her workshop, putting the finishing touches on a new jacket she was making for Elliott, when the door opened, and she had to quickly shield the unfinished jacket from view to prevent him seeing it before it was done. She giggled when she saw that Elliott was holding his hand over his eyes.

“Don’t worry, darling, I’m not peeking,” he said. “We’ll be having a guest for dinner tonight. Be ready for six o’clock, won’t you?”

“Of course, my love.”

Mary scurried over to him to plant a kiss to his lips, and he smiled.

“I’ll leave you to your work, darling.”

Elliott left, and Mary returned to her work, wondering just who the guest might be.

At half past five, Mary put down her fabrics and needle to get ready for dinner. She made sure to choose her nicest dress, though not too extravagant - while she didn’t know who the guest was, she knew Elliott would be wanting to impress them, so she chose a dress one might believe was a day-to-day dress while also thinking it very nice indeed.

When she came into the dining room at five minutes to six, she found Elliott and his guest already seated, both smoking cigars as Elliott told the other man about his interest in the American West.

“Ah, and here’s my darling wife,” Elliott interrupted himself with a grin, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her dressed so nicely for him. “Mary, this is Mr Samuel Bloome. Bloome, this is my wife, Mary.”

“How do you do, sir,” Mary said with a polite curtsy.

Bloome smiled, stood up and kissed Mary’s hand.

“A pleasure to meet such a stunning young lady out here,” he said.

Mary blushed, and was too busy taking her seat next to Elliott to notice the way her husband’s eyes narrowed at the young man.

“What grants us the honour of your company, Mr Bloome? It’s not often my husband invites a guest to join us for dinner.”

“You may have heard of my father, Marcus Bloome; he owns the land to the west of Mr Marston’s land. Or he did, until he passed away a few weeks ago; now the land falls to me. I wrote to Mr Marston to introduce myself and he invited me to visit to discuss business.”

Mary had heard Elliott speak about a landowner to the west named Bloome, but truthfully he never had anything positive to say about the man. She thought it best not to mention that for the moment.

“Oh, dear, I’m very sorry for your loss, Mr Bloome. I do hope he didn’t suffer.”

“Oh, he was old; while I mourn his passing, it wasn’t unexpected. Still, I thank you for your kind words, Mary.”

Elliott’s jaw twitched.

“I don’t know how you treat women to the west, Bloome, but while you’re on my land you’ll show my wife respect and address her as Mrs Marston.”

“Oh, Elliott, don’t be silly,” Mary said with a wave of her hand. “Just Mary is fine with me.”

“Well, it’s not fine with me,” Elliott said firmly.

Mary ducked her head slightly. “Of course, darling.”

Noticing her sudden tension, Elliott placed his hand over hers gently, a silent reassurance that he wasn’t angry at her.

The clock chimed six o’clock, and on cue the butler entered from the kitchen with a tray, carrying three plates of delicious-smelling steak. He served Mary first, as Elliott had instructed him to always do, then Elliott, and finally Bloome.

“So Mrs Marston, I notice you have a London accent,” Bloome said conversationally as they all began to eat. “Are you from there?”

“Yes, I arrived in Australia four months ago,” Mary replied. “I met Elliott when he visited London, we fell in love and were married there before he returned here with me.”

Elliott smiled at her. “Yes, I went to London to execute my cousin’s estate and came back with the sweetest lady in London as my wife. I count myself lucky every day.”

Mary blushed. “Oh, Elliott, hush. Are you married, Mr Bloome?”

“Not yet. I’ve had various gentlemen offer me their daughters, especially when it became apparent that I was shortly to inherit my father’s land, but never a woman who’s piqued my interest. Charming girls, of course, but clearly more interested in my father’s land than myself. Call me a romantic fool, but I’d rather marry for love than a transaction. The problem is, of course, that any woman worthy of loving is snatched up quickly.” He raised his glass of wine to Mary. “A clear example. I’m not surprised Mr Marston married a woman as beautiful as yourself so promptly. If I’d met you and learned you were available, I’d have dropped to one knee there and then.”

“Do you encounter many deserters to the west, Bloome?” Elliott said quickly. “I usually send those I find on my land to Major Ashley-Pitt, although sometimes I have to administer justice myself.”

He withdrew his revolver from his belt and placed it on the table with a smug smile. “This is my administrator of choice. The colt revolver, created by Samuel Colt himself and imported from America. Some people say I’m the fastest draw in Australia.”

“And are you one of those people, Mr Marston?”

Mary had to disguise her laugh as a cough. Elliott glanced at Mary, then back at Bloome. He placed his revolver back in his belt, then said, “I’m not one to toot my own horn, but I’m yet to be bested. Unless you’d care to challenge me? A friendly competition between neighbours, of course.”

Bloome held his hands up. “I’m not a gunman myself. More of a man of letters - my younger brother was always the brawn, and I was the brains.”

“And who’s the beauty?” Mary asked.

“Oh, my sister, naturally. She had suitors from every direction until she married a man from Canada and moved there with him.”

The conversation continued as they ate, and Mary found Mr Bloome more and more interesting as he told more stories about his life. Although they hadn’t discussed it, Mary felt that Elliott didn’t want it mentioned that she had previously been married to his cousin, and so she skirted around the topic when it almost came up.

After dinner, Elliott and Mr Bloome were to discuss business, so with a curtsy to Mr Bloome and a kiss to Elliott’s cheek, she left them to it and took herself on a stroll around the station. She ended up, as she usually did, in the stable, keeping company with the horses. She found it soothing to brush their manes, and when Elliott found her there, the sun had long since set in the sky.

“There’s my little kola bear,” he said endearingly as he approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s not safe for you out here after dark, darling, you know that.”

“Nonsense, El, I’m perfectly safe. Chestnut will look after me, won’t you, girl?”

She stroked the horse she’d been grooming, and Chestnut whinnied in response.

“Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? The natives wouldn’t dare approach the station, and your men know better than to harm me.”

“Mmm, maybe, but I’m not so sure about that Bloome fellow,” Elliott replied as he nuzzled his nose against his wife’s hair, as if he were sniffing her to pick up her scent. “I don’t like the way he was looking at you - or talking to you. He said himself that if we weren’t married he’d have proposed to you himself.”

“Are you jealous, Elliott?” Mary giggled. She turned in his arms so that they were facing one another, and she leant up on her toes to kiss him.

“Silly man. You know you’re the only one for me. What would I possibly see in Bloome?”

“He’s younger than me, for a start. Much closer to your age. A more appropriate match, some would say.”

“I don’t care about that, El. I like that you’re older than me. It means you have more experience, in life and in… other matters.”

“He’s handsome.”

“Is he? I hadn’t noticed. Not as handsome as you, that’s for certain.”

“His lands are bigger.”

“Now I know you’re being silly. There’s only one matter in which I care about size, darling, and I suspect you’re leagues ahead of him in that department.”

Elliott raised an eyebrow, a flirtatious smirk forming on his face.

“Oh, really? And what matter is that, exactly?”

Mary smiled coyly.

“Well… your hat, of course.”

Elliott blinked. “My what?”

“I saw his hat hanging by the door during dinner. Have you seen the brim on it? It’s abysmal. Yours is much more practical, darling, especially since you started wearing the one I made you, if I do say so myself. And you look so very handsome in it.”

Elliott laughed and kissed the top of her head.

“Thank you, darling. So I have nothing to worry about from Bloome then?”

“Hmm, well… now you mention it, he does have a lot of land…”

“Right, that’s it.”

Elliott lifted her up with ease, and her squeal of surprise startled Chestnut slightly, although when she saw that the apparent assailant was only Elliott, the horse seemed to let it slide. Elliott threw Mary over his shoulder and carried her out of the stable, only to take her around the back to where the hay was stored and throw her onto a bale.

“What are you doing?” Mary asked playfully.

“I’m going to remind you who you belong to,” Elliott said darkly, his hand already unbuckling his belt as he loomed over her. “I can’t have my wife admiring another man’s land, can I?”

“I admire all of Australia, Elliott, not just your part of it. Perhaps you could take Bloome’s land and have it all to yourself.”

“Maybe I will. I’ll have the land and the most beautiful wife in Australia, and he’ll have nothing.”

“Not even a good hat.”

Elliott grinned. He pulled his cock out of his trousers and began fondling it, watching Mary hungrily as she lay against the hay bale, her legs spread and her skirt riding up her legs to reveal her shins.

“Pull your skirt up, darling. Let me see what’s mine.”

She obeyed like the good wife she was, allowing Elliott to pull her bloomers off and toss them aside, and even in the moonlight Elliott could see her cunt glistening with her desire.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” Elliott groaned as he tugged languidly on his cock, encouraging it to life as he stared hungrily at his wife. “And so wet already. Is that all for me, darling, or did Bloome turn you on at the dinner table?”

“It’s all for you, my love,” Mary panted, her breaths getting heavier as her arousal took over. “You’re the only one my cunt obeys.”

“Mmm, we know that’s not true, don’t we? It obeys you too. Go on - show me. Use your fingers. I want to watch you pleasure yourself.”

Mary obeyed, one hand sliding between her legs to circle her lips before she dipped a finger into her entrance, just deep enough to gather up her arousal, then withdrew and circled her sweet spot just right, in the way she’d learnt to give herself pleasure far too recently.

“Fuck yourself with your fingers,” Elliott growled, his wrist pumping a little faster now. “Tell me how wet you are in there.”

Mary let out a gasp as she slid two fingers inside her, and she could feel just how wet she was getting for him.

“I’m so - so wet for you, El,” she moaned. “I want you inside me.”

He grinned hungrily. “Oh you do, do you? You want my cock to fill you up, is that it?”

“Yes - yes, please, Elliott. I need you… need you to take me hard, claim me as yours…”

“Oh, with pleasure, darling.”

Elliott leant her over, positioning himself between her legs. He rubbed his cock up her slit, coating it with her desire, before pressing his cockhead against her entrance.

“Who do you belong to?” Elliott demanded between gritted teeth, clearly resisting thrusting straight into her.

“I’m - I’m yours,” Mary gasped. “I’m all yours, Elliott. My body is yours… my heart is yours… I am yours…”

Elliott thrust forwards, sliding easily inside her, and Mary groaned with relief to feel her husband filling her up. It had been a few days since they’d last made love, and she hadn’t realised until now just how much she craved him.

“Mmm… my wife,” Elliott sighed as he filled her up completely, his cock hilted inside her with a firm, possessive stretch. “My good little slut, opening her legs for me behind the stable. No one around but God to witness, and even if someone were to see, what would it matter, hm? I have every right to fuck my wife on my land. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Elliott, yes… take me here, please, fill me up…”

“As my wife commands.”

She cried out with pleasure as he pounded into her, both of them still fully clothed but for the bare essentials. Mary grabbed at Elliott’s waistcoat, unbuttoning it desperately as she sought to uncover her husband’s bare chest. Thanks to her nimble tailor’s fingers, Mary was able to unbutton the waistcoat without Elliott needing to slow his thrusts, and she slid her hands hungrily under his shirt to slip her arms around his shoulders and hold him close to her.

“I’m going to make you cum under the stars,” Elliott growled. “And I want you to cum loud . Let everyone know the pleasure only I can give you.”

“By everyone, do you really mean Bloome?”

Elliott snarled at the mention of the other man’s name. “If he wants to covet my wife, let him. I’d covet you too if you were another man’s wife. But you’re mine, and it’s going to stay that way.”

“Of course, El, I - I only want you,” Mary gasped, her grip on his shoulders tightening as she came closer and closer to her peak. “I’m yours - all yours - never - never want anyone else, Elliott, only you…”

“Mmm, I’m going to fill you up with my seed, give you a baby, then nobody will ever doubt that you’re mine,” Elliott panted. “I can’t wait to see your belly grow big with child… you’ll be even more beautiful than you are now…”

“Oh, yes, El, give it to me. I want your seed, want your baby… please… oh God, Elliott, please, fuck me harder…”

He obeyed, and when Mary came with a loud cry of his name, Elliott’s pleasure came shortly after, his seed shooting inside her just as he promised, filling her up with a relaxing warmth. His moan of pleasure was the most beautiful sound in the world, and Mary felt a peculiar kind of comfort in taking her husband’s seed under the stars. It felt so good, so right, as if making love in the open air was the only thing that she needed in the world.

“I love you, Elliott,” Mary mumbled as she came down from her high, both of them breathing heavily as they basked in the moment. “Thank you for�� well, for everything.”

Elliott chuckled and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you for choosing to marry me, darling. Now how about we get ourselves inside, hm? It’s getting cold and I don’t want you to catch a chill.”

He pulled out of her and stood up to tuck himself away before putting his hand out to help Mary to her feet.

“I don’t believe there’s such a thing as cold in Australia,” Mary said as she straightened down her dress. Elliott plucked a stray piece of hay from her hair. “Even the nights are warmer than the days in London. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it.”

“Hm, I suppose it would be warm to you, wouldn’t it?” Elliott mused as he put an arm around her waist to escort her back around the stable towards their home. “Just as a warm day in London to you would be cold to me.”

“It’s a good thing you came during summer; if you’d come during winter, you might have frozen to death.” She gasped as she came to a sudden realisation. “If it’s never cold here, does that mean you’ve never seen snow?”

“I’ve not seen it myself, though I believe it snows in the mountains to the east.”

“Can we visit next winter? Oh, please let’s, El, I love snow. Tommy and I used to build snowmen every Christmas, and all the children would have snowball fights in Hyde Park! It was so wonderful, because it really was all the children - even those from the manor houses would play in the snow with us street urchins. There was no class or status in a snowball fight - only who had the better aim!”

“And did you have the better aim?” Elliott asked.

“Well, of course. We were quite a formidable duo, Tommy and I - he’d make the snowballs, I’d throw them. I particularly enjoyed throwing them at the boys, because they daren’t hit a girl, even with a snowball!”

They were approaching the house now, and Mary was still buzzing with excitement as she reminisced about the happier moments of her childhood with her brother. She continued chattering away as they entered the house, Elliott listening with close attention and complete adoration.

They were both unaware that Bloome and some of the men were still awake, smoking and playing cards on the porch of the men’s cabin. They’d heard every word of Mary and Elliott’s conversation - as well as the unmistakable moans from behind the stable.

Bloome placed a card down and said casually, “Such childlike wonder. Is that really the same woman we heard moaning like a whore just now?”

“She practically is a child,” Kelly snorted. “She must be, what, eighteen? He’s forty-four, I know that. Could be her father.”

“Ah, you’re just jealous ‘cause your wife’s an old hag,” Dogen said, and the others laughed.

“Eighteen, you say?” Bloom said thoughtfully, taking a puff from his cigar. “Interesting…”

Meanwhile, inside the house, Mary had exhausted herself of stories about playing in the snow and was now telling Elliott about Christmas in London as they readied themselves for bed.

“Oh, and Mrs Harris - that’s the seamstress I used to work for - she always made the most delicious plum pudding at Christmas, and she always saved me a slice after her family had devoured most of it. I’d share half with Tommy, of course, and so I only ever had a mouthful or two, but oh, it was the most delicious mouthful I’d have all year!” Mary gasped. “Do you have plum pudding here, Elliott? I’d love to have a whole slice to myself this year — if that’s not too much to ask, of course.”

Elliott chuckled and placed his hands on Mary’s shoulders.

“Mary, your excitement is endearing as always, but you’re getting yourself all worked up before bed. You’ll be up all night if you keep getting yourself excited.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry, I do get carried away sometimes —”

“Don’t apologise, my love. Your excitement at life’s pleasures is one of my favourite things about you. But I don’t want you bouncing off the walls when you should be bouncing on my lap.”

Mary blushed.

“Elliott! We just made love not five minutes ago! Are you truly that insatiable?”

He smiled and reached around to squeeze her bum.

“You make me insatiable, darling. I simply can’t get enough of you. Come, let’s get into bed. Would you like me to read to you tonight?”

Mary’s eyes lit up. She loved the sound of her husband’s voice, so deep and smooth, and it did always soothe her to listen to him reading aloud, even if she didn’t understand the books he read.

“Yes, please, darling. If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind. You know I love to read to you. But I’ll warn you, I’m reading a book on the American Constitution, you might find it boring.”

“Oh, good, I’m more likely to fall asleep,” Mary teased. She kissed him on the nose, then climbed into bed and patted the space beside her. “Come on, El, bore me to sleep with talk of constitutions.”

Elliott shook his head and laughed, wondering for what must have been the thousandth time how he’d been so fortunate to find himself such an endearing wife.

He climbed into bed with her, picking up his book from his nightstand as he did so, and waited until she was comfortably curled up against his chest before he began to read.

“Assuming it therefore as an established truth that the several States, in case of disunion, or such combinations of them as might happen to be formed out of the wreck of the general Confederacy…”

---

To her surprise, Mary woke the next day before Elliott did.

He was often up much earlier than her, and either he’d get up to start working, or he’d stay in bed and coax her awake for some early morning lovemaking.

She stayed in bed a little while, watching him sleep. He looked so peaceful, and when she grazed his lips with a light kiss, he smiled and held her tighter to his chest.

Eventually, Mary had to wriggle out of her husband’s grasp, because she needed the toilet. When she was finished, she peered out the window, and noticed that the sun was only just beginning to rise. Why she was awake so early, she had no idea, but she was wide awake now and thought she might as well make use of her time.

After dressing herself, she made her way into the kitchen, which usually the butler used, but even he was asleep. She explored the cupboards, found some ingredients along with some pots and pans, and set to work making breakfast for Elliott.

“I hope you don’t mind me using your space, Kunkurra,” Mary called out when she heard the back door opening and closing behind her. “I woke early for some reason, and I thought Elliott might like it if I brought him breakfast. You can go back to bed for a little while, if you’d like.”

She turned around to gauge the servant’s reaction, since she knew he wouldn’t vocalise a response, and to her surprise she realised that it wasn’t Kunkurra at all, but Samuel Bloome.

“Oh, Mr Bloome! I apologise, I thought you were the butler. What are you doing up so early? And - in my kitchen?”

“I’ve always been an early riser,” Bloome replied casually, his hands behind his back as he looked around the kitchen. “As for my coming here, I saw you through the windowpane and was curious why a lady such as yourself would be at work in the kitchen.”

“Well, as I said, I thought I’d make Elliott some breakfast. I don’t often wake before him, so it’s a nice treat.”

“And what are you making?” Bloome asked, stepping closer to her to peer at her worktop.

“Nothing much. Some eggs, bacon, sausage - oh, I should get some bread out! He likes toasted bread with his breakfast. Coffee, too, but I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely sure how to make it. I may wait for the butler to make that.”

“Your devotion to your husband is incredible.”

“Don’t tell him I told you, but the tough gunslinger act is just a façade. He’s really the sweetest man in the world. He does so much for me… I like to do what I can in return.”

“You say you met in London - how did you meet, exactly?”

Mary glanced nervously at Bloome, who had lifted himself to sit on an empty countertop as if he were as comfortable here as in his own home.

“Oh, um… I suppose it’s not uncommon knowledge, as the whole station knows, but Elliott’s not my first husband. My late husband was Elliott’s cousin — the one whose estate Elliott came to London to execute. He came to my house to introduce himself, I offered him a place to stay… we ended up spending a lot of time together, and we fell in love, so we married, sold my late husband’s estate, and I came back to Australia with him.”

“You left London behind for him?”

“Well, I had nothing left, you see,” Mary explained as she carefully lifted the cooked eggs onto a plate. “My family are gone, then I lost my husband too… all I had was the estate, and I knew if I stayed there alone I’d be hounded with suitors itching for my late husband’s estate. There - I think I’ve done a rather good job, if I say so myself!”

Mary looked proudly at the plate, and she thought honestly that each piece of food was cooked just to Elliott’s liking.

“Such a good wife you are,” said Bloome.

There was something strange in the way he spoke that gave Mary pause, as if there were some veiled threat behind it. She glanced at him and was discomforted by the way he was looking at her, as if one wrong move from her might cause him to do something rash.

“Yes, well, I - I’ll be taking this to Elliott now before it gets cold. A pleasure to talk to you, Mr Bloome - do make sure to say goodbye before you leave this morning.”

With a quick curtsy, Mary left the kitchen with the plate of food, some cutlery and a glass of orange juice on a tray.

She entered the bedroom to find Elliott was half awake, stirring in bed, perhaps just realising she wasn’t there.

“Good morning, my love. I thought you might like some breakfast in bed today.”

Elliott sat up groggily and looked over at her, smiling when he saw her and his eyes widening when he spotted the tray of food.

“For me, darling?”

“Of course, who else? I woke before you and thought I might make you some breakfast as a treat.”

Elliott sat himself up in bed, and Mary thought it incredibly endearing the way his hair stood up from the night’s sleep. She placed the tray over his lap, and Elliott stared at it in wonder.

“Mary, this is so thoughtful. Thank you. Did you make this all yourself?”

“Yes, so if anything’s wrong the blame’s all mine; I don’t believe Kunkurra is even awake yet. Although I think I managed to match the way you like it.”

Elliott cut a piece of bacon, dipped it in the egg yolk, and tasted it. He closed his eyes and sighed a mmph of approval.

“It’s perfect, darling. A perfect breakfast from a perfect wife. What more could I ask for?”

“A napkin to wipe the egg from your face?” Mary giggled when she saw that some of the yolk had clung to her husband’s moustache. She took a napkin from the tray and gently dabbed at his face.

“You couldn’t kiss it off?” he suggested with a smile.

“I don’t want to kiss you with egg on your face! I like to taste you, not some egg yolk, no matter how perfectly I cooked it. There. Only one mouthful, and you’re already getting it caught in your moustache! You need a trim, El.”

“Hm, yes, I suppose,” Elliott said thoughtfully, stroking his face to feel the length of the hair. “I’ll have a shave later. First, I need to eat this delicious breakfast before it gets cold.”

“Alright. I’ll leave you to it, darling.”

Mary kissed him on the cheek, then left to seek out her own breakfast.

She had the butler bring her some fresh fruits and instructed him not to bother himself with Elliott’s breakfast, only to bring him some coffee. She sat on the porch in the morning sun, picking through her plate of fruit as she watched the rest of the station gradually wake up and start working.

Near the gates, Samuel Bloome’s horse was tied up, waiting for its owner to saddle up to ride back to his own land. A boy was loading the horse with supplies, and Mary wondered to herself if Elliott ought to hire a boy for running messages and helping out with the animals.

Her mind wandered to her brother Tommy, who was also in Australia somewhere, working away the sentence her first husband had imposed. She had wondered if she might see him in Australia, but when she expressed this to Elliott on their departure from London, he told her in the kindest words he had that London could fit into Australia over four thousand times and the likelihood of bumping into her brother was slim.

Elliott’s porch purposely had a vantage point over the entire station, and so Mary had a clear view of Bloome as he came striding out of the lodge, dressed ready for travel.

“Taylor! Are those horses ready yet?”

Mary’s heart jumped in surprise. At first she thought he had been addressing her, but then she realised that was silly, not least because there was no way Bloome would even know her maiden name, let alone use it. He was clearly talking to the boy, who by coincidence shared her last name - or perhaps it was his first name.

The boy spoke quieter than Bloome and he was too far for Mary to hear, but she surmised from the way he moved towards the stables that he was going to ready his own horse.

Mary smiled to herself as she remembered her escapades with Elliott in the stables last night — then, with a spike of fear to her heart, she realised she remembered Elliott taking her bloomers off and throwing them to the side… but she didn’t recall putting them back on.

She jumped up quickly and walked quickly to catch up with the boy, hoping she could find a way to locate and hide her discarded bloomers without him noticing — that was, if none of the men had found them already. How embarrassing if they were to be found by anyone other than her husband!

Fortunately, when Mary entered the stable, she saw that the boy was attending to a horse near the entrance, the opposite end to where she and Elliott had snuck off to last night.

“Do you need some help with your horse? I’m quite good with them, you know,” Mary said to the boy, hoping that if she assisted him he’d leave sooner and give her a chance to search for her bloomers.

The boy turned around, and his eyes widened.

“Mary?”

She almost admonished him for calling her by her first name, but then she really looked at him, and she let out a shocked squeak.

“Tommy?”

Could it really be him? He was taller, his strong frame almost indistinguishable from the skinny boy she’d last seen in the back of a prison carriage. She’d not recognised him from behind - but now, seeing his face up close, Mary knew her baby brother even after two years of labour in the Australian desert.

She rushed forward and took him in her arms, both of them laughing at the incredulity of the situation, neither having expected to see the other so far from home — Tommy, particularly, had no reason to believe his sister was even on the same continent.

“Oh, Tom, you’re so tall!” Mary gushed, finally releasing him from their tight embrace to look at him properly. “And so strong - you almost winded me! And brown too - have you been protecting yourself from the sun properly? Sun sickness can kill, you know.”

“Yes, mum,” Tommy said with a roll of his eyes. He couldn’t believe that his sister had appeared suddenly out here - and was immediately nagging him! “But I don’t understand - what are you doing in Australia, and here of all places?”

“Well, in fact I —”

“There you are!” Elliott’s voice interrupted her as he entered the stable, apparently looking for one or both of them. He glanced between the two of them, frowning when he saw Mary was holding Tommy’s hands in hers. “Am I interrupting?”

“No, sir,” Tommy said quickly, dropping his hands and ducking his head.

“Oh, Tommy, don’t be silly. Elliott, you won’t believe it — you’ll remember I told you about my brother?”

“The one my cousin transported? Yes, I remember.”

He glanced at Tommy with a frown.

“Do you mean to say this is him?”

“Yes!” Mary beamed, putting a hand around Tommy’s shoulder proudly. “He must be working his sentence with Mr Bloome!”

Elliott looked at Tommy questioningly. “Is that right, boy?”

“Y - yes, sir,” Tommy mumbled, his eyes nervously fixed on the floor. “I’ve worked for the Bloome family since I arrived, sir.”

Elliott folded his arms and looked at Tommy appraisingly.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Tommy raised his chin to look at Elliott, albeit with great reluctance. Elliott looked at him thoughtfully, then seemed to decide something with himself because he nodded and looked back at Mary.

“Darling, we should say goodbye to Bloome.”

“Yes, of course. Tommy, do you need a hand with your horse?”

“No need,” Elliott said dismissively. “Leave the horse for now. Both of you, come with me.”

Curious, Mary and Tommy followed Elliott back outside to where Bloome was waiting with his horse, leaning against a fence post and smoking a cigarette.

“Where’s your horse, Taylor?” Bloome asked, but Elliott held up a hand.

“I’ll keep the horse. And I’ll keep the boy.”

Mary had to stop herself from gaping at Elliott. Bloome scoffed incredulously.

“Oh, you will, will you? He’s a good lad, and the horse too. Why would I give them to you?”

Elliott put his hands in his pockets casually.

“Oh, you won’t. You’ll sell them to me.”

Bloome narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

“And how much am I selling them for?”

“Name your price. I’ve got gold.”

“So do I, plenty of it. Strong, hardworking boys like Taylor here are few and far between. I’m afraid I’ll need something a bit more valuable than some gold.”

Mary didn’t like the way Bloome was looking at her.

“I’ve got plenty of good men here,” Elliott replied. “Take your pick. Except Dobkin, I like him.”

“Oh, it’s not a man I want,” Bloome said with a hungry look in his eye. He stepped towards Mary predatorially, his eyes fixed on her. “I want your wife.”

Mary took a step back instinctively; both Elliott and Tommy took a step towards her protectively.

“Absolutely not,” Elliott snarled.

Bloome shrugged. “You’re the one desperate to buy, Marston. Why you want my boy and his horse so bad, I don’t know, but you said to name my price and I’ve named it. I want her.”

Elliott’s hand twitched near his gun.

“Mary is not chattel to be bartered with, Bloome. She’s the one who wants the boy, not me - trading them would defeat the point.”

“Not a trade, then. A… loan, let’s call it. An hour would do.”

Bloome didn’t specify exactly what he meant to do with this hour, but he didn’t need to. Mary knew. They all did.

“You really think I would whore my wife out to you, Bloome?” Elliott growled.

“Those are my terms,” Bloome said smugly, clearly revelling in the fact that he held all the cards. “Take it or leave it.”

Mary grabbed Elliott’s hand before it could twitch any closer to his gun.

“It’s okay, El,” she said quietly. “It… it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve exchanged my body for Tommy’s safety.”

Elliott turned to face her, his eyes dark with anger.

“And I swore you’d never have to do something like that again,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You also swore you’d let me make my own choices.”

“And you’d choose this? To - to whore yourself out to this bastard? No. I won’t allow it, Mary.”

“But Tommy —”

“Will stay with us. But I will pay the price, not you.”

Bloome scoffed. “Respectfully, Marston, you’re not my type.”

In a split second, Elliott had pulled his hand from Mary’s grip, and his revolver was out, the trigger pulled, and Bloome cried out in pain and shock as a bullet lodged itself in his knee. He fell to the floor, clutching the bleeding limb, and Elliott just laughed.

“Go and get the butler,” Mary said to Tommy urgently. “Tell him a man’s been shot. He’ll know what to do.”

Tommy nodded, then set off running to Elliott’s house. Mary turned back to her husband, who was now standing over Bloome, his gun still in his hand as he watched the other man writhing in pain.

“Stop crying, you’ll be fine,” Elliott taunted him. “I could have killed you, but then I’d have to dispose of the body, and I can’t be bothered with the effort for a pathetic worm like you.”

Mary knew she should be frightened, and perhaps in some way she was, but she also found it extremely arousing to see Elliott so strong, so powerful, so clever — and all to protect her honour.

Kunkurra came hurrying over with his usual kit to patch up gunshot wounds. Without questioning what had happened, the servant knelt down by Bloome and began working on patching up the leg. Bloome wailed as the bullet was fished out of his flesh, and Elliott just rolled his eyes.

He turned back to Mary and Tommy, and his expression softened.

“Tommy, get your belongings and head to the men’s quarters. There’ll be a spare bed for you in there. Mary - come with me, let’s get you inside. We’ve had enough excitement for one morning, don’t you think?”

Tommy obeyed, and Elliott put a hand on Mary’s back to escort her back to the house.

“Do you think that was a good idea?” Mary asked, her voice low so as not to be overheard. “You might have just made a powerful enemy, Elliott.”

Elliott scoffed. “He said it himself, Mary, he’s a man of letters, not a fighter. We’ve nothing to fear from him.”

“Bulwer-Lytton said the pen is mightier than the sword.”

“And Marston said the gun can shoot the pen and the sword out of a man’s hands before he has a chance to lift them.”

Mary laughed. Only Elliott would refer to himself as if he were some great poet.

“I’m serious, El. Don’t let your confidence be your downfall. I - I don’t want to lose you.”

Elliott paused as they entered the house. He turned to Mary and took her hands in his, bringing them to his lips to kiss them gently.

“I promise, you’re not losing me.”

“Swear it?”

“On my mother’s grave.”

Mary smiled, and Elliott’s heart softened just to see that sweet smile he loved so much.

“Now, let’s give Bloome some gold for Tommy and send him on his way. I’m sure you and Tommy have plenty of catching up to do, hm?”

Mary beamed.

“You’ll really keep him?”

Elliott kissed the top of her head gently, and she practically melted into his gentle touch. How could a man so fierce and terrifying be so kind and gentle?

“Of course I will, darling. I know how much you love him. And I hope you know how much I love you.”

Mary looked up at him, her eyes wide and adoring.

“I love you too, Elliott. With all my heart.”

[karkkidoeswriting]

Friday Monday Kiss Tag

Thank you for tagging me @talesofsorrowandofruin and @starbuds-and-rosedust! It's not exactly Friday but it's fine xD

Rules: post a smooch between your OCs for Friday. It can be as light as a peck or as intense as a makeout. It can be romantic or platonic or familial. As long as a smooch takes place it’s free reign!

Here's the dads from Bear Castle Chronicles kissing for the first time in a party where Julius thought Marcus was scowling at him when he was in fact pining extremely hard. This would be from a prequel, which I have written more scenes for than I care to admit. Also I conveniently have art fitting for this (though they are dressed in this art in casual clothing not evening wear, so not a perfect match).

I'll tag @kainablue @writernopal @oh-no-another-idea @italiangothicwriteblr @captain-kraken! As always, no pressure!

The excerpt (about 800 words) under the cut:

“What is it with you?” Julius was getting annoyed.

“What? Am I not allowed to accidentally look into your general direction now? - Scadi damn it!” He snuffed out the candle he was trying to use to light his pipe. “And what if I looked at you once or twice? Is looking at people not allowed?”

Julius sighed and took the pipe from his hand. He winced as their fingers touched, quickly pulling his hand away.

“No, I’m not saying that. I thought you seemed to be acting different from usual and you getting so defensive about it really only reinforces that feeling.”

Julius steadied the pipe on his lips with his amputated arm and took another candle from the lamp to light it up. Puffing into it for a moment gave it a proper cinder. He offered the pipe back. Marcus hesitated, then took it from him. Julius was suddenly very aware of the small silence between them. Marcus paused, then he very gently kissed the pipe as he took a smoke from it. Smoke poured out of his parted lips.

Julius blinked and turned to look away. His ears were filled with his own heart beat. This is not what he was supposed to think. He was supposed to be getting over Marcus.

“What if I was looking at you? Everyone was looking at you”, Marcus muttered.

His eye was turned downward. What was with his bashful expression? Julius realized they were still standing so very close the smoke poured right into his face. He didn’t mind.

“Everyone? And why would that be?”

“You were radiant.” Marcus’ voice was low. If Julius had stood any less close, he wouldn’t have heard him properly. “Your smile was so bright it was blinding.”

If it was everyone, why was he saying it like that? Like a confession. Julius felt the danger growing. Danger of hope. He tried to damp it down.

“Sounds like you’ve drunk a little too much”, he said, trying to sound light, as if he was joking.

“No. Well, maybe, but I’m telling the truth. If you don’t want people to stare, maybe don’t look like that.”

Julius laughed nervously. “Like what?”

“Like the most beautiful thing in the world.”

He was about to laugh again, but then Marcus raised his eye at him. That look filled him with the cool summer night, till he couldn’t breath.

Marcus turned away and closed his eye. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I have no right.”

Maybe Julius had drunk one too many classes of wine or maybe he just lost his reason, but he nevertheless bent down, took Marcus’ face into his hand and kissed him. Reason caught up with him quickly enough and he pulled away.

“I’m sorry.”

What had he done?

“You have already made clear how you feel, and yet I –” He wiped his face. All the feelings he had tried to convince himself he didn’t have anymore, crushed over him in a wave. “I’m really sorry. I can’t – I need to clear my head.”

He turned to leave, but Marcus’ hand grabbed his wrist. Marcus looked down. His lips were still parted, like they had been, when Julius leaned for the kiss.

“Do it again.”

Slowly Julius turned back, afraid to break the illusion. He leaned down, tenderly touching Marcus’ cheek. Marcus’ eye was lowered into his lips and fingers brushed against his jaw. His lips parted again. Julius kissed him, this time carefully, cautiously - gently brushed his lips against Marcus’. They were wet with wine and tasted of tobacco, but not just that. They tasted like him. Like the air tasted in his chambers, like his hair smelled, when he leaned close enough. Like home. Lips still almost touching they breathed the same air. Marcus closed the gap and pressed his lips into Julius’. First painfully softly, then with his whole body pressing closer. His hands grabbed Julius’ face. Hungrily. Julius could not hold back his desire. It poured over as he sank his fingers into the thick hair in the back of Marcus’ head.

He had to pull back before he lost all of his sense. Holding each other, heads still together, they took breathless gasps of air. Julius was about to lean for another kiss, but with pains stopped himself. He bit his lip as he shook his head.

“This is a pretty dangerous place for this…” he breathed.

Finally he tore himself away from Marcus. A gasp escaped Marcus’ lips. For a moment they just stood there, both quite breathless. Marcus’ pipe was on the ground, very snuffed out. Julius picked it up and lighted it up again like before, now very aware of the memory Marcus’ lips had pressed into it. He let his lips linger on it for a moment, clinging to Marcus’ taste. Marcus took the pipe back and raised it on his lips with slightly trembling fingers. Julius had to look away. The urge to throw that pipe away and kiss him again was very hard to resist.

[themonotonysyndrome]

hey i sent that william post on the confessions, teehee teehee. you understand me.

god, it is annoying with him isn't it? i remember listening to him the first time and thinking 'wow, this is the spark the vampires needed'. then he just sits and does nothing. i want to see this man do something. anything. himself, this time. i hope erik does him justice but idk. looking a little ehh rn. let him kill people. moral ambiguity is great. we need more. not just good/bad. that's boring as hell.

also, love your ocs. very nice.

give William a listener please for the love of god

IT'S YOU!

SDNFJKNSDF WELCOME TO THE DISSATISFIED OF WILLIAM'S CLUB!

Oh, I agree. As shit as Twilight was, it has a few interesting concepts, like Carlisle being the kind, paternal leader of the coven. So William being the same was such a refreshing concept to hear! Him readily apologising to Lovely about the Adam bit, sharing titbits of his personal interests with them too and gossiping about Vincent was really like meeting with our boyfriend's silly yet authoritative Dad!

Now, even back then, I was aware that William couldn't have lived for so long by just being kind and gentle. Nah. This man definitely has a dark side. The phrase, 'You have no idea the amount of violence it took to be this gentle' definitely fits William to a T.

Nah, the only problem I had with William after the Summit was not that he went behind Vincent and Sam's back. Nah, fam.

IT WAS HIS BELIEVE TO DECIDE EVERYTHING REGARDING HIS CLAN WITH NO ONE TO CHECK HIM!

Look, William, you're 500 years old already. You should know by now that you need confidants. People that you trust enough to discuss your plans with and aren't afraid to say, "Hey, this is a fucking stupid idea. Let's some other way." at his face! Vincent and Alexis are the perfect people for that! Oh my god!

That's the whole reason me and a mutual created our Old Blood OCs way before the Summit was even a thing! William needs friends who can smack him upside the head when he's being stupid! AAARRGHH -

So I'm with you, Anon. I wanna see William being shady AF but the way he goes about it at the Summit? It feels cheap!

Also, my biggest worry is that since Erik is voicing him and that William has no Listener AND VINCENT IS LEAVING THE CLAN, William is gonna fade into oblivion just like Marcus and Kody. That would be such a waste of character...

[copiousloverofcopia]

Good afternoon ghesties!

After a much-appreciated break over the holidays I am proud to have ready for you all to enjoy for the next installment of, The Hell Torn Heart featuring Secondo and @ashley-ghuleh OC Marcus!

Thank you so much for letting me bring Marcus to life! Hope you all enjoy!

Commissions are OPEN, please see pinned post for Carrd info!

💗 Special thanks to @gothdaddyissues for the beautiful dividers!

The Hell Torn Heart

After a recurring dream leaves Marcus, a half-demon/half-hellhound, dealing with the ghosts of his troubled past and visions of a place he has never been. He is unexpectedly thrust into an unknown world. Guided by a mysterious couple to the Ministry, surrounded by ghouls and siblings of sin. The once outcast struggles with what haunts him and learning to find himself—until he meets Secondo.

Chapter 3: Coming Home

Also available HERE on AO3! Haven’t started yet? Read from the beginning HERE!

Definitely NSFW below the cut!

Marcus couldn't remember much about the trip. Nothing but a blur of countryside and endless winding roads as the tour bus took them deep into the middle of nowhere. It surprised him at first that the Abbey, which hosted a world-renowned metal band, would be nestled deep into the Italian countryside. Not set in the middle of a posh, affluent city—surrounded by decadence and opulent affairs.    

No that would be too obvious, he thought to himself. It seemed that, by all account, things needed a bit more privacy and discretion than that. Knowing now that the band consisted of Hell spawn such as himself, it was probably for the best that they weren’t as easy to find as an Aldi or an Edeka. That a remote location would afford them the ability to thrive away from prying, righteous eyes. 

It was hours and hours later when Marcus, lost in his own thoughts, realized that they had reached an iron entry gate. Ominous and tall as they loomed over them. It looked as if it were centuries old. Laden with rust and crawling with ivy throughout the frame. 

“Ah…finally home... uh!” Copia sighed before jolting upwards. Thrilled to be home, but less so by the rough and bumpy ride along the gravel drive leading to the front of the Abbey. Marcus stared out of the window, his eyes glazed over in astonishment and his heart pounding away. Barely able to contain the impulses of his anxiety. 

“Ist das echt? Sehe ich das wirklich?” he asked, his glamour glitching out on him as he scattered about in the cabin. Taking in the surroundings as they pulled up to the front door.

“It is Marcus, we’re finally here.” Aether smiled, Cumulus letting out a yawn as she stretched alongside him on the sofa. Tail swaying happily beside her, having realized they arrived at home. 

It was otherworldly and haunting. The grounds, the foliage, the building. All of it as if it were ripped from the elaborate images inside his dream. Marcus rubbed his eyes, smudging the eyeliner along his waterline as he tried to make sure he was really awake. 

“It's—It's uncanny.” he muttered under his breath, Aether standing up and placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“What is?” the ghoul asked him as the others began gathering up a few of the bags from the overhead bins. 

“I—I have seen this before. This place. In my dreams.” Marcus confessed, his eyes never leaving the window. Fixated on the Abbey, just as grand and foreboding as it was in his subconscious. 

“Then it should be clear to you that you are meant to be here with us piccolo, now let’s get off this glorified Sardine can.” Copia laughed as they all started making their way off the bus. 

As they funneled into the front door. The activity inside was in full swing, the siblings and ghouls alike going about their business. Though he was immediately in awe of it, Marcus felt too good to be true. Before now it would have been unfathomable to have ghouls and humans coexisting without the guise of glamours. At the Ministry however this was normalcy—expected. 

No one batted an eye at his glamour. No matter how much it had begun to fade in and out as they walked. A few of the Abbey inhabitants even stopped to welcome Copia and the ghouls back home. Happily smiling away at Marcus without a second thought as they made their way down the main hall.  

Maybe here he would find the solace he so desperately sought throughout his whole life. As travel down the hall, a trek that felt endless, Marcus’s eyes took it all in. The walls were lined in rows of cathedral style-stained glass and paintings, consisting of all manner of Hellish imagery. Their scenes hung carefully between the doors—doors that led to unknown rooms of which Marcus already longed to see. He was especially impressed by the grand staircase, flanked by a statue of Lucifer and Lilith, leading to the Papal offices and the even more decadent—Papal suites. 

As he marveled away at the beautiful architecture and impressive adornments, they reached their destination. A large pair of oak doors facing them as Copia knocked away. Though Marcus had no idea, it was this moment where things for him would take a permanent turn. Beginning with the sound of a stern sounding feminine voice, calling from inside. 

“Come in.” she said. Cardinal Copia, gently opening up the door to a massive office. A woman of later years sat, prim and proper in a large red baroque-style chair. Her hair pulled back tightly into a bun and her desk surrounded by parchment filled shelves and antique tapestries. Perking up her eyebrow at them as they approached her desk.

“Good afternoon, Sister.” Copia began, the woman acknowledging him with a nod. “I apologize we did not tell you sooner that we would be arriving today, but as you can see, we had some unexpected business to attend to.” the Cardinal finished, motioning to Marcus as he stood still in the doorway.

“That I see, a ghoul, is he? Wait no… a spawn of Cerberus. My… it has been quite some time since the Ministry has hosted a Hellhound.”

“Only half.” Marcus interjected; the words just noticeable as Imperator continued on.

 “What is your name child?” She asked, lifting up the glasses that had slipped down her nose. 

“Marcus, Marcus Kohle.” he responded, trying to puff up his chest and control his shifting glamour, which seemed to be getting harder to maintain since he had arrived. 

“Well Marcus, welcome to the Ministry. I am Sister Imperator—I am the Abbess here. You will do well to follow my orders. Is that understood?” she inquired. Marcus was already both impressed and annoyed by her. The woman was clearly in charge for a reason, and it seemed better that he heed her warning then oppose it—at least for now. 

“Understood Sister.” he agreed. The Sister stood up from her desk and walked over to the filing cabinet that sat just to the right of her closet door. Grabbing an black envelope from inside, embossed with a golden Grucifix on its front, and handing it over to Marcus.

“Inside this you will have some introductory information we provide to all the Hell spawn inhabitants. Though you have arrived somewhat unconventional from most, I feel this will still be of some help. Also, Aether, see to it that Mr. Kohle gets acquainted with everyone. I would like it if you can spend the rest of the day showing him around. Help him to familiarize himself with his new home.

Home…I’m home, Marcus thought. Elated to hear the Sister refer to the Abbey as such. Finally, a place where he might find himself. Find out who he was meant to be. 

“Not a problem… hey maybe someday you’ll even get to be in the band.” Aether said, nudging Marcus at his side. The two, taking a moment to chuckle to themselves as Copia and Sister Imperator finished up their ministrations. Aether, excited to take him for the tour of the Abbey.

As they began to leave Imperator’s office, Aether could sense Marcus felt uneasy. He was still trying to get accustomed to it all. Having spent his whole life hiding behind his glamour, it felt weird to be in a place where it wasn’t necessary. A place where his true self could be revealed without prejudice.

“What’s wrong Marcus?”

“It’s just…” Marcus began, his glamour shifting in and out. Aether figured it out, pressing his lips into a soft, understanding smile. 

“It’s alright. You can keep the glamour on as long as you need man. No judgment here. I promise.” The ghoul assured him, a sentiment that seemed to allow Marcus to carry on.

The rest of the afternoon consisted of Aether telling Marcus everything he knew about the Ministry and the ways of the Abbey. It surprised Marcus to learn that Aether was new too, well relatively. Aether explained about the Papas, serving as the dark representatives on Earth for Lucifer himself and how it was the duty of all Hell spawn within the Ministry to be in their service. That more often than not the ghouls were summoned directly by the Papas themselves. 

He learned about the siblings and their roles too. They were also subordinates of the Papas and the Ministry, but unlike the ghouls they arrived at the Abbey of their own accord. Choosing a life of sin, to give their lives over in service of Satan. It was then that Marcus's initial optimistic view of his new “home” began to wane. Wondering to himself the ghouls were more slaves than companions. Aether quickly dispelled the idea, letting Marcus know that they are sent by Lucifer himself to serve and that the ghouls take to the task willingly.

Aether had shown him all the essential spots: the chapel, the grand hall, the refectory, and the Clergy offices. Explaining to Marcus that the ghouls and other infernals as well as the siblings were only allowed inside the offices if requested by the Clergy themselves. All of the explanations and endless coordinators overwhelmed Marcus. Aether must have sensed it when he stopped mid-sentence to inquire how his new friend was feeling.

“And then at the end of the hall here is the—hey you doing ok there?” he asked. Marcus nodded in response, unsure of how to explain. It started to feel like too much and too quick, he felt like it was hard to breathe. To his relief, Aether decided now was as good a time as any to take a bit of reprieve. 

Aether had introduced him to a number of siblings and other ghouls while they took a moment to feel the fresh air on their skin Relaxing on the bench outside in the courtyard while Marcus could catch his metaphorical breath. He could tell Aether was trying to help but being with the others only made Marcus more anxious. Worsened when he overheard one of them call him, catulus. A term of endearment for puppy. Placed on him by the Ghost crew while on the bus, somehow didn’t sit right coming people he hardly knew.   

It was clear to Marcus, though completely untrue, that he wasn’t human enough for the humans and wasn’t feral enough for the ghouls. A precarious position to be in, Marcus thought. Worried that while he had been promised “home”, once again he felt as though he might not fit in. Beginning to wonder if he ever would. The feeling only made worse when Aether showed him how to reach both the sibling’s quarters and the ghoul’s den.  

“...and up here is the ghoul’s den and to the left is the sibling’s quarters. You can decide for yourself which best fits you. Though the ghouls and I would love to have you retain residence in the den. We are a pretty crazy group, but also the best bunch of people you’ll ever know.” Aether smiled. 

“I suppose that will be fine.” Marcus told him, deciding it best to stick with the familiarity of Aether and Cumulus, instead of trying to find new friends right away within the siblings. 

“Well alright then, let's get to the real fun. You haven’t seen the lower level yet.” Aether smirked, a sly, mischievous grin. 

“What’s down there?” 

“Well, the dungeons—you know torture chambers and the summoning room.” he explained as they made their way to the set of stone steps that coiled into the lower level of the Abbey. The walls, unlike the extravagant ones above in the main hall, covered in moss and vine. The moist scent of decay and of smoke thick in their nostrils. While the little hairs on Marcus’s skin stood on edge as they descended the stairs.

“Ah, man that's ripe.” Marcus groaned, covering his sensitive nose.

“You’ll get used to it.” Aether laughed as they reached the torture chambers. They were mostly empty, only the residual of broken chains and the hint of an insidious history were left in them. Marcus was confused. It seemed that a Satanic Abbey would be littered in tortured souls to speak of.  

“So do these not get used or what's the story here?” he asked.

“Well in his hay day Papa Primo used to frequent the torture chambers, only to terrorize those who deserved it mind you. That was long before my time here though and I hear it has been some time since he has been in them—and since they’ve been used in general.” Aether explained before attempting to continue on.

“What does Papa Primo do now?” Marcus inquired, genuinely curious as to what such a supposed evil, sadistic man who took pleasure in the torture of others did since he had abandoned these stomping grounds. 

“Oh Primo, he is the sole Papa in charge of the Gardens. I will take you out there tomorrow when there's more light.” Aether explained, Marcus’s eyes widening in disbelief. Amazing that someone could pivot so vastly from torture to tulips. It was utterly amusing to the both of them as Aether and him laughed at the irony.

The last stop on the tour was the summoning room. For Marcus, this would be the most interesting part. Curious, from the moment he heard of it, to see a summoning in action. Aether was more than delighted to let him know that at that very moment one was in process.

The doors were closed as Marcus and Aether approached. The sounds of snapping and snarling coming from behind them. Red light pouring out over the threshold and into the passageway. Marcus could feel the blood racing through his veins, his pupils dilating as the doors opened—revealing the room to him. 

The floor was covered in glistening obsidian. A pentagram carved into the stone, its shape emanating in a bright red light. The room was circular, unlike any other Marcus had been allowed to see. Flickering torches along the walls, walls lined with hooded figures that Marcus could discern were other ghouls from their scent. 

At its center stood a man. Powerful and statuesque. Wearing robes of black and emerald, green as he chanted something in Latin. Smoke swirling around him and settling along the ground. The knife in his right hand, covered in blood, blood that spilled from the self-inflicted wound on his left.  His face, painted as a skull—dark and mysterious like he was taunting death itself.  

“Who is that?” he whispered to Aether. Marcus, feeling enthralled as he watched the ritual unfold before him. The feral ghoul, rising from the settled smoke that flooded the ground, bowing at the feet of the stoic man before him. 

“That is the second Emeritus son, Papa Secondo.”  

After the dinner, Marcus was left on his own. Copia and the band ghouls called back to Sister Imperator to discuss the next tour. His mind, still flooded with images of the summoning. Of that enigmatic man, calling to the bowels of Hell for the ghouls to rise. Their loyalty, given over to him without question.

The very sight of him had Marcus’s blood pumping, his breathing quickening, noted by the rapid rise and fall of his chest. It wasn’t often that his head was turned, but something about this Papa called to him. As he continued walking, his mind torn between his unease of fitting in, and his lustful thoughts, he heard sounds echoing within the corridor. Their origin, seemingly from beyond the impending corner. 

Marcus slowly approached, peering around to find the Papa he had seen before. The one that had him practically drooling, now leaned against the wall. His chasuble flipped up and over shoulder and his arm, outstretched out and down upon the head of one of the sisters of sin. A sister who had her mouth around his pious cock. The Papa, gagging her as he forced her head down along his shaft. 

Marcus could hardly believe what he was seeing—and hearing. The sister slurping away as he grunted and groaned, face fucking her hard and fast. Marcus had remembered reading in Sister Imperator’s pamphlet that sins were encouraged openly here. Lust, in particular, highly celebrated as long as all those involved were of age and had given enthusiastic consent.

Still, seeing the Papa in that moment, unabashed at his actions, in full view of anyone who might pass with this sister going down on him really sent the message home. It was certainly unexpected, Marcus standing here in silence a moment as his brain caught up with his eyes. Frozen as he watched, in both delight and jealousy, the sister with a mouthful of the clergyman. Swallowing back his endowment however, in Marcus’s humble opinion, with lackluster technique. 

Marcus shook it off the initial shock of it. Deciding to, in true to himself form, make a flippant, wide crack before making his way back to the den. “That's what she calls giving head? Seems to me like you're wasting a good dick on some bad oral." he snarked, his hands held around his mouth to heighten the sound of his voice. Directing it down the hall at them before he quickly scampered away.

When Marcus reached the room Aether had set up, he quickly shut and locked the door behind him. With his mind still on Papa Secondo, Marcus ran his hand through his blue hair and down over his neck. Feeling the heat of the moment rising up inside him. His fingers, traveling down over his black tank top, over his chest and belly, before hovering just above the obvious swell in his jeans. 

He made quick work of his buttons and zipper. Grateful to free his own cock from the confines of his pants. Leaking and throbbing with what he had just seen. Marcus took hold of himself, gently running his thumb over his swollen head. Gathering up some of his precum to lubricate his glide as he fucked upward into his hand.

He had completely lost himself in desire. Clouded in thoughts of Secondo's cock—The looks of it, the taste of it, the feel of it. Pressing his fingers along the underneath of his shaft as he bucked up into his fist. Stroking firm and fast over and over, until he had become slack-jawed and whiny. Coming hard and spilling over his fist.

When it was over Marcus was filled with both relief and regret. How could he have allowed himself to lose control so easily in his lust. Lust for a man he hadn’t really even met. In a place he wasn’t sure was all it was promised to be. He was determined to talk it over with Copia in the morning. Hoping that the kind-hearted man who had reminded him so much of his mother would be able to give him the answers he needed.   

The office was warm and inviting. Unlike Sister Imperator’s, Marcus felt quite at home waiting for Copia the next morning on the sofa just beside his desk. Listening to the crackling fire in the fireplace and the scent of ink filling his senses. The room filled to the brim with books and tomes. Loads of art hung proudly on the walls—it was clear Copia was a man of academia and refinement. 

“I didn’t keep you waiting long, did I?” Copia asked as he managed to sneak in unnoticed by Marcus.

“No Cardinal, not long at all.”

“Good, good. Tell me piccolo…what is it you wanted to see me about?” he asked him, taking a seat beside Marcus on the sofa. Copia’s eyes were filled with concern and compassion. It was clear to Marcus that he had already become somewhat of a parental figure, a guide to him—a Virgil to his Dante. 

“I know that this is not like the rest of the world. Here we are open about our infernal roots, our true selves. Our worship of Lucifer… but I have to say even with all that Cardinal… I still find myself feeling out of place. Like maybe I don’t fit in here as much as you all thought I would. As much as I hoped I would.” Marcus confessed. 

“Marcus… do this for me, si?” Copia began, placing a hand atop his shoulder. 

“What?”

“Lose the smoke and mirrors, be who you are here. I know that Aether told you the glamour was fine, but I think it will help you to show your true self more. Live in your own skin.” Copia explained. Marcus did as asked, his ashen gray skin revealed as the facade slipped away. The markings on his tail, matching the tattoos on his arms. A tail that began whipping around nervously as his eyes turned to glow a deep blue hue.  

“Ah, there you are piccolo.” Copia smiled, giving Marcus a hug. The warmth from his embrace, helping Marcus to relax in his form. Copia slowly pulled back, crossing one leg over the other as he poured a glass of brandy from the side table bar. Handing it over to Marcus before pouring himself one.

“Thank you.” Marcus told him, taking a small sip of the thick brown liquid. The warmth from the alcohol, heating him a bit in his cheeks. 

“Don’t mention it piccolo… but listen, I had a feeling that there may be some struggles on the horizon for you and so I have taken the liberty of trying to find a solution.” Copia explained, taking a swig of the contents of his glass.

“Oh?” Marcus asked, more than a little curious of what to expect next. 

“You see, here we have some very special people here. Ones who have knowledge far beyond myself when it comes to your kind and well I figured it might help for them to be involved in your feeling more at home.” 

“Who? Aether has already been so—” Marcus began, Copia stopping him with the gesturing of his hand as he swallowed back the brandy.

“Of course, of course. Aether is great, but piccolo. You need someone far more experienced than that. Someone who knows not only infernal culture, but who can help guide you on your path of self discovery. I think you—-” Copia explained before a knock at the door stopped him. “Oh that is probably him now. Come in!” 

Marcus was immediately on edge as the door came open. Dying to know just who Copia had held such confidence in. Then with the appearance of a large grucifix ferula, Marcus would get his answer. From outside in the hall came Secondo Emeritus. 

He did his best to hide his nerves. Thanking Lucifer that he had only made an ass of himself to Secondo while in his glamour and not in his own skin. Secondo stepped into the office. His miter held proudly on his head and his stride, that of royalty as he went to take a seat adjacent to them in the office. 

“Papa, thank you for coming.” Copia began, fumbling his words a bit in Secondo’s presence. Clearly, he too was taken back by the sheer power and majesty the Papa possessed. 

“Of course, Cardinal. Is this?” he began before Copia nervously cut in.

“Si, this is Marcus. He is a new half Hellhound recruit that Aether found while in Germany. Seems he’s been a bit lost finding his place and well I figured if anyone could help it would be—”

“Ah, so the catulus needs a guide, eh?” Secondo smirked. All the color, draining from Marcus’s face as he realized Secondo knew EXACTLY who he was.  

“Uh…” Copia began.

“I don’t know, Cardinal. I may not be of use as you see Marcus seemed not to be too lost last evening when he had some rather… constructive words of advice for me and Sister Beatrice.” 

“I—” Marcus began gulping while his face turned a brilliant shade of red. Practically feeling the steam leaving his ears. The poor Cardinal left completely confused by the whole situation. 

“Seems the two of you have already met?” Copia asked. A bit of nervous laughter, leaving him as Secondo continued to stare directly at Marcus. His wickedly handsome face, filled with the satisfaction of what he was about to say.

“That we have. You were right to reach out to me Cardinal. Seems our puppy has much to learn.”

Notes:

Aldi/Edeka- Popular retail stores in Germany

Ist das echt? Sehe ich das wirklich?- Is this real? Am I really seeing this?

Catulus- puppy

[annimator]

These are my bois Marcus (left) and Liam! (right)

they’re both heavily traumatized

OC Facts under the cut!

- Marcus is specifically a Cardinal Hybrid

- Liam’s hair color changes depending on the current color of the sky. [eg: if the sky is cloudy, Liam’s hair becomes white & if it’s nighttime, Liam’s hair becomes black]

- Marcus inherits my love for video games (especially indie games!)

- Liam inherits my love for books and Greek mythology

- Marcus’ beanie is the same beanie I gave him back when I first created him in Gacha Club

- Liam’s clothes are loosely based off of Dark Academia outfits I saw on Pinterest

OC LORE SPOILERS

- Said it before and I’ll say it again, they both fucking died

- They aren’t dead in the present time of the OC story tho, they both got reincarnated together

- The spear Liam wields was actually a gift from Marcus so that they’d have twinning weapons. Marcus confessed his feelings to Liam right after gifting him his spear

[spotinthespiral]

Shout-out to Marcus, one of my many ocs with horrible tastes in men 👍

Quick cut just to lore-dump a bit (skip this if ya want).

Marcus got to Ravenwood, calamity happened, Blueflower ran off to solve it. Marcus met Nolan while exploring Cyclops Lane and immediately clocked him as a pirate (cuz his bestie Griffin was a pirate) but said nothing.

Marcus stuck around and managed to befriend Nolan after a *lot* of struggle, but they got super close. Nolan was cocky and rarely did any actual work, but Marcus was willing to help him improve one step at a time, which worked to make them all the more connected. Nolan associated his forward progress with Marcus, and therefore Marcus was a valuable pawn.

Then Marcus suddenly wasn't a pawn, and in the most neurodivergent way possible, Nolan confessed a crush to Marcus. Marcus (who'd had a crush 0.2 seconds into hearing Nolan be obnoxious) returned the sentiment, and in my headcanon lil universe they're a pair.

Marcus is a beloved little pastel goth, and Nolan is still the most hated student on campus, but they're working on their shortcomings together.

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 100. brb x oc

a/n: welcome to chapter 100 pls don't hate me because we aren't even half done and idk how to feel about this. lol

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none, pure fluff and Rooster being dad material.

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

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/89/90/91/92/93/94/95/96/97/98/99

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-

He got to work the very next day with some difficulty, because now that Nicole could speak, she could direct her words to either of them. So when she saw her father walk around with his uniform, she stretched her little arms with the saddest ‘dada’ leaving her lips.

It was a blessing and a curse, because that tore at his heartstrings. He just dropped everything to pick her up “Oh my baby girl,it’s okay, Dada will be home soon.” Her eyes were shining with tears “Aw man,don’t do this to me,Nikki,” he chuckles sadly, rubbing her tiny hand before bringing it to his lips, kissing those minuscule knuckles over and over as Nicole calmed down.

Beatrice walked out of the kitchen to meet the two, smiling softly, “She’ll be okay,Roos.” she says as her husband just bounces Nikki in his arms, “We are going out today since there’s no more rain and I’ll leave her with my parents later, I just gotta help Penny-” she smiles more when Rooster lifts Nikki up then brings her down to kiss her cheek, “And we’ll go see Marcus and check how the collection is going.”

“Oh,right.” Rooster murmurs on Nikki’s neck,”It’s in December,right?”

“Yeah,Marcus wants to do a launch party of sorts and…well,we were invited. It’s not for long, it’s just so we can see the collection.”

“That’s alright.” Rooster smiles at Nikki, kissing each of her fingers, “It’ll be fun,right? Yeah,it’ll be fun- then we gotta think about Virginia,gorgeous. After Christmas,yea?’

“Hmhm,Nikki needs to have her first Christmas around family.” she says, “Hey,why don’t we invite Mav to the Christmas party? My parents won’t mind.”

Rooster looks from Nicole to Beatrice and there’s something in his eyes that makes him pause. The last time he actually spend a holiday with his godfather…was when he was about twelve? Maybe, his mother invited Mav over and that was…the last time. He wanted to but at the same time he was nervous about it.

Him and Mav were still rekindling their relationship.

Literal baby steps.

But the little Bradley, the one that loved his uncle and wanted him close at all times, wanted Maverick close by. He wanted his uncle to enjoy some time with him and Bea - and her family. Of course he now had Penny but, maybe he just wanted to relive that, “I can talk to him.”

“Yeah?”

‘Yeah, check if he’s going to stay around for Christmas and…if we aren’t deployed, he can say yes.”

Beatrice’s gaze softened, “You sound nervous.”

He laughs awkwardly, holding Nicole close to his lips so he could kiss her head, “A little.” He confesses with his cheek dimpling a bit “I haven’t spent holidays with Mav in so long. And while we are talking again it’s still…fresh you know?”

Beatrice steps closer to him to gently touch his arm, then kiss his jawline once she stands on her her tiptoes “I know,handsome. “ she rubs his jaw with her thumb, feeling the muscle there tense up as he clenches his teeth “It’s up to you,okay? Would you want to have Mav close during the holidays?”

He hesitates, opening and closing his mouth only to nod in silence, nuzzling Nicole’s soft shirt “Okay, if you are sure talk to him. I have a feeling he’ll love it.” And her fingers comb some of the sandy brown strands back, leaning up to kiss his cheek and keep her lips there “It’s your choice, babe.”

“Yeah,”he inhales “I know, gorgeous. I know.”

And after prying Nikki out of him, with some difficulty, he managed to leave. That didn’t mean it was easy for him to approach his uncle and ask if he wanted to join their Christmas party at Beas parents. He kept looking over at Maverick whenever he walked close, his uncle smiling and offering him a two finger wave before walking away.

Rooster chews the inside of his mouth as he thinks on how to approach this, he had to think a bit because he…wanted Mav to say yes but he was also nervous if he said yes. Did Mav even liked Christmas anymore? He didn’t seem to be into the holidays no more from what he’d seen from when they got back to talking…

He better do it now before he chickens out completely.

“Mav!” his uncle stops walking to turn towards him, a clipboard under his arm, “Hey uh, what’s that?”

“Well,” Mav smirks, flipping through the papers, “I’m going to instruct some new pilots and I had to take notes. So I won’t forget things.” he chuckles looking over to his nephew, “Don’t worry you guy were my favorite group.”

Rooster, while happy to hear that, just cleared his throat, “So uh, Christmas. Are you and Penny going somewhere?”

“Not really. Nothing planned.” Mav looks up at his tall nephew, “Why?”

Rooster propped his hands on his hips and pursed his lips a bit, then crossed his arms because he felt too exposed, “Do you…want to spend Christmas with us at Bea’s parents? You,Penny, Amelia…I mean, if you want to. We’d be really happy to have you.” he pauses, “I…I’d be really happy to have you there.”

The older pilot’s gaze was unreadable but something in his light eyes shone, surprise? Happiness?

Confusion?

All that at once?

Maverick opened his mouth to speak, letting out a surprised laugh, “Really?” he asks his nephew who in turn nods, smiling just a little bit. Maverick taps the corner of the clipboard to his palm to fill the surprised silence that surrounded them, “I…I…yeah,yeah I can do that.”

“Really?”

For a split second,Pete saw ten years old Bradley who’d barely reached his stomach, looking up at him during one of his many visits, asking him to stay for Christmas. Carole often approved of it, in fact he thought she wanted him to stay just to give Rooster a sense of familiarity for a little while. “Yeah,really.”

Bradley’s smile widened, his cheeks getting fuller and his eyes shining, “...that’s…great. Thank you,Mav.” he was giddy, like memories of his past were coming back, memories of him and Mav sharing eggnog as his mom cleaned the table after dinner or the two of them sitting together, with Mav trying to build the train tracks he got from his aunt when he was too young to build them.

And maybe he just wanted to revive that moment because he felt like he could. He had a daughter now, he wanted Maverick to be part of her life as well but he had to deal with his own trauma with his uncle along the way. They came a long way from the first time they spoke, but there are still things that happened, distances that were kept.

The little Bradley in him wanted his uncle back.

The grown Bradley did too but had to deal with his own anxieties and traumas.

“Are you going to let me know where her parents live?”

“Yeah, it’s um,” he clears his throat, “It’s in Little Italy, I’ll send you a map and everything too. It…it’ll be fun,right?”

Maverick,whose eyes were still on Bradley, only nodded with a smile, “Yes, it will be fun Brad.” he looks down at his watch, “Oh, shit. Okay,I gotta go.” he gives his nephew a quick hug, backing away from where they stood, gesturing at him with his index finger, “You gonna call me,right?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“Good,oh! By the way, send me a list of things Nicole can play with, I can figure something out to give her in the meantime.”

“I will Mav.” he waves to his uncle, “Don’t worry.”

His uncle smiled more, saluting him again - this time Rooster reciprocate the gesture - and walked away from there, leaving the tall lieutenant alone and staring at nothing for a couple seconds.

That…was pretty good.

Rooster could relax, he told himself to relax and relieve the tension on his shoulders before turning back around to his office. “That was good.” he murmured, “I’m going to tell Beatrice about it, she’s going to love it.” he is loving it, he’s loving it more than he thought he would. He was really nervous about it, he had to admit it, but now that he got a positive response from his uncle?

Well, now he was more than okay it worked.

And…he had to think about what he could give Mav. What could he give Mav? He knew his uncle but giving him gifts was hard because his interests went from zero to one hundred in a matter of seconds. Again he should talk with Beatrice about it, but he’d only be able to message her around lunchtime and he still had…two hours left. “I can handle it.” he murmured to himself, closing the door in his office “I can handle it. I can handle not messaging Bea. I can do that.”

Even if his fingers twitched and itched to grab the phone, even if he just wanted to talk to her now he held back. Rooster inhales to control himself, rolling his neck and shoulders to ease the tension, remembering he had things to do and even if he wanted to talk to Beatrice, he couldn’t.

Not yet.

-

Thankfully time passed fast and he could finally check his phone after grabbing something to eat at the cafeteria. There was one message from Beatrice.

Bea (10:23)

Hi Roos! I didn’t mean to send you a message this early but someone wants to talk to you!:) 

He sat down on his usual spot, Maverick not there yet, to press play. It was a video of Nikki, being carried by Beatrice as they walked through the house “Okay,okay, I know you miss him.” his wife laughs, moving the camera close to Nikki whose light eyes immediately focus on her image.

She stills for a second, tapping her little hand on the screen before Beatrice speaks again, “Do you wanna tell dada what you were doing?” Nicole looked over at Beatrice and smiled “Yes,what were you doing before? What were you doing with mama?”

Nicole proceeded then, without breaking eye contact, to let out a long ‘dadadadadadadadadadada’ that changed intonations every now and again, in fact it only got louder when Beatrice brought her closer to their wedding picture hanging on the wall, “Yes,that’s dada. You miss him a lot,right?”

“Dada! Dada!” one single slap on his picture, “Dada?”

“Daddy is at work, we’ll see him in a few hours.” Beatrice wipes Nicole’s face with her hand, kissing the little girl’s cheek as she walks away from the picture, much for their daughter’s disappointed noise “Daddy’s girl,what did I say?” the camera then shows Beatrice’s smiling face “Anyway,I hope you like the surprise,Roos. She’s been talking nonstop since you left…I love you and I’ll talk to you around lunchtime okay? Oh,one more thing.”

The video ended with Beatrice blowing a kiss to the camera then looking at Nikki, “Can you blow daddy a kiss?” Nicole just blinked, another ‘dada’ leaving her lips so Beatrice had to maneuver her hand to show Nicole what she meant. Nikki did try her best to blow a kiss, but it just looked like she tapped her mouth and smiled at him “Yaay, that’s great Nikki! Say bye dada! See you soon! Bye! Buh-bye!”

And it was over… and Rooster was melting. He was tapping his boots on the floor with his face touching the screen, hiding his absolutely melting smile and the way his cheeks were flushed. He was so happy, he couldn’t be happier. If there was any way to write what he felt he wasn’t sure if he’d know the words.

He composed himself the best he could, messaging Beatrice with the same giddy smile on his face

Roos (12:13)

Baby <333 you are killing me here! She’s so cute, you are so cute. I want to kiss you so bad but I’m not home ugh! That’s evil.

Bea (12:13)

Hi Roos! I’m sorry handsome. She just started doing it and I couldn’t help myself…but I can work on the kisses when you get home :3c promise you that <3 

Roos (12:14)

Oh,baby don’t start with this. I’ll be counting the seconds until I get back

Bea (12:14)

;* me too. Anyway! How’s your day going? Did you talk to Mav?

Roos (12:14)

I did gorgeous. He said yes. So now we have to find something to give him as a gift, I have no idea what it’d be though.

Bea (12:15)

We’ll figure something out :) how are you feeling though? Did the nervousness pass?

Rooster’s thumbs hover over the small device as he thinks about how to reply, licking his lips once he found the words

Roos (12:17)

It did. Yeah,it’s dumb gorgeous. I shouldn’t feel like this, you know? Not anymore.

Bea (12:19)

Roos,honey, you need to understand that these thoughts are normal. You spent a good chunk of your life not talking to Mav, it’s okay to be nervous and scared. I know you love him, I know you want him back in your life and now in Nikki’s life…but certain things your brain can’t really filter and you have a hard time figuring out how to deal with it. You two made a lot of progress in the short time you got back to talking…so please don’t think it’s bad <3 

He was going to kiss her so hard when he gets home

Roos (12:20)

Baby…you always know what to tell me, don’t you?

Bea (12:20)

I do try, Roos. I want you to be okay. <3 I love you and your health - physical and mental - is so important to me.

Roos (12:21)

Bea,you are making this very hard for me. I can’t kiss you. I can’t hug you and I can’t have you close and I want to really badly.

Bea (12:21)

Sorry! But you know,I’m glad it helped. I really am,Roos. I’ll tell my parents :) Is Mav allergic to anything? No,right?

Roos (12:22)

Nothing that I know of,but I can ask him.

A presence, alongside a tray holding food settles itself in front of him and he looks up to see Mav with his sunglasses up to his hair and looking older than he was, “...must’ve been fun.” he smirks, “Good class?”

“It’s amazing how half of them managed to get into adulthood.” he murmurs, flicking his gaze to the group of officers that walked by, some of them throwing waves his way and he offered weak ones back, “They’ll be fine, but they need a lot of work.” he looks over at Rooster, “You could join me.”

“Hm?” 

“During one of the classes,” Maverick shrugs, “We were together at the Uranium facility. They’d like your input.”

Rooster moved his eyes from his phone to his uncle, arching his brow, “I instructed people before Mav. I don’t know if I’d want to again.”

“You’d technically be there as my guest.”

Rooster stops messaging Beatrice to meet his eyes, furrowing his brows a bit and…well,his uncle seemed like he wanted him to say yes. Perhaps because he wanted his company? Because he wanted someone he knew close by? He couldn’t answer, “Your fanboys are there too,” Mav said, “I’m sure they’d love to see you there.”

Bradley chews his lower lip, would he go there, just once? Just to talk to them? “...well…if you– uh, sure.” he says, part of him wants to but the other part…is nervous. 

He should talk to Bea when he gets home.

[cssiop]

LATE CONFESSION... marcus rashford

marcus confesses to olivia the crush he used to have on her years ago.

marcus rashford x fem!oc word count: 2k

THE SIX-YEAR-OLD MARCUS used to hate it when his parents bumped into an old childhood friend, the one they hadn't seen for two decades and then talked to for what seemed like forever. from children to work, from their wives to their husbands, they would go over the world again, sometimes wondering about the life path of some, the studies they had chosen, and the way they had changed physically. then a joke or two would be thrown in, about the number of wrinkles they had accumulated since then, the responsibilities and the pressure of work too, a far cry from the high school years spent partying and having fun.

the six-year-old boy was getting impatient, huffing and puffing, crossing his arms with a sulky look on his face, wanting his mother or father to finally put an end to this interminable and more than useless conversation for him. but the childhood friend he didn't know would lean over, big smiling eyes on his face before exclaiming, "is he your youngest?" and then would pinch his cheek, as if they knew each other. and the conversation would start again, never stopping, and six-year-old marcus was fed up.

only, his youngest version should have known that he would also become this person one day, almost twenty years later, crossing paths with someone from his past, who, even for a short time, had taken an important place in a moment of his life. olivia, his classmate from the age of thirteen to fifteen. marcus had just bumped into her during a party in the center of manchester as he was about to leave, the watch on his wrist already announcing five o'clock in the morning. normally, he would have apologised and not lingered, but not this time, marcus had recognised the girl in a flash.

"holy shit," a smile crept onto his face, contagious as the same one found its way onto olivia's lips.

"oh my god marcus?!" her eyes grew wide and she laughed childishly, "hi!" she exclaimed excitedly, happy to see the man she was cheating with during tests in year 10.

a similar laugh escaped from between the footballer's stretched lips before he spontaneously opened his arms, inviting her into a brief but nostalgic embrace which she gladly accepted, "olivia! i wasn’t expecting to see you there!"

"well neither did i, what are you celebrating?" she asked as she stepped away from the boy's body, a smile still plastered on her face.

"not anything really, just enjoying a bit with the guys before the season starts again," marcus stated with a small smile on his lips, assuming that olivia knew he was a footballer.

"yeah i saw that, you’re a footballer now," she pushed marcus' shoulder with her fist to laugh as he pretended to be hurt, painting a new wider smile on olivia's face.

"well yeah," the player scratched the back of his neck as the red rose to his cheeks, "and you, what are you doing in manchester?" curiosity overcame him; the reason they had lost contact was that the girl had moved hundreds of miles away.

"i just moved back in!" joy intermingled in her words as she told her newfound friend the good news.

"that's amazing! when did you move back in?" marcus also felt happiness fill him after olivia's words.

"literally today, that's why i'm here," she giggled, "to celebrate my new start," her glass was raised in the air and the player didn't hesitate to do the same with his to clash them as two 'cheers' rang out at the same time from their mouths.

their conversation then went on and on; the girl explained to him the business studies she had undertaken before finally setting up her own company and the reason why she had come back to london. the six-year-old marcus would have been surprised to see himself enjoying this kind of conversation today, listening attentively to olivia, well almost, more hypnotised by her features which had matured and defined themselves over the years. she was still as beautiful as ever, if not more so.

if he could have, marcus would have stood there for hours admiring her as he used to do in secret in class but unfortunately, jadon sancho decided otherwise. when the english player felt his teammate's hand on his shoulder and his loud voice, he held back from rolling his eyes.

"you can't be serious marcus! we said it was a night out between lads, no flirting with chicks!" he laughed and marcus felt a gasp of exasperation come from between his mouth.

"i was not flirting, she's a friend from school, olivia," introduced marcus, giving a somewhat apologetic look to the girl who only seemed amused by the situation.

"oh my bad, nice to meet you olivia," a charming smile now graced jadon’s lips as he held out his hand, and annoyance flared in marcus at his friend's behavior.

"nice to meet you too jadon," the woman had recognised the english striker at a glance, the euro last summer had taught her well about the members of the english men's team.

the three of them started talking, much to marcus’ dismay, and after a while, he was forced to cut the conversation short and almost kick jadon out of the way so that he would leave them alone.

"well...it was great to see you again, marcus, but i should go home now," sighed olivia with a smile that the player returned.

"it was, yeah. i should go too," thousands of thoughts ran through the player's mind as a question burned his tongue, he hesitated to ask it before finally finding the courage to, "by any chance, do you need a ride home tonight?"

olivia didn't need one, her friend was already supposed to give her a lift home, but just for marcus, tonight, she needed one.

"i do, actually."

…

"it's weird that we didn't hang out that much outside of school because we used to get along well during class," marcus softly stated as he drove through the capital under the direction of olivia who showed him the way to her new london flat.

"i think that we had different groups of friends so you know," she shrugged before pausing and then resuming, a new memory flashing through her mind, "and also, i think your friends didn't like me that much."

confusion took over marcus’ facial features as his eyebrows furrowed and his gaze turned stealthily to olivia, "what do you mean?"

"literally every time i'd come near them, i'd always feel like i bothered them," she replied with a small smile in retrospect.

"what? they were literally all in love with you, like everyone," marcus almost exclaimed, very disturbed by the difference in their memories.

he remembered the discussions between them as soon as she passed by their group and the low compliments that they declared to each other.

she remembered their evasive looks as soon as she started talking to them as if they already wanted the conversation to be over, as she seemed to annoy them so much.

a story really always had two sides.

she blinked several times, "what?" it was olivia's turn to be lost.

"everybody had a crush on you."

olivia couldn't believe it, "okay," she turned her body towards marcus who was then forced to alternate his gaze between her and the road, "let's say it's true, how come nobody ever asked me out?" she continued, her hands moving in all directions to support her question.

the corner of his lips edged up faintly at the woman before he returned his gaze to the road, "because you were unattainable, you were too...good. no one thought they had a chance with you."

"how could you even be so sure of that?" her voice went high-pitched as confusion crawled on her face all the more.

today's marcus let a small laugh escape from between his lips as he thought back to the fifteen-years-old marcus; the one who would have done anything for olivia, the one who was nervous but also happy every time she decided to sit next to him, the one who always hoped that by some miracle she would confess her feelings to him in the corner of the playground one day, the one who was excited to go to class in the morning only to see her, but most of all, the one who only thought of her at night when bedtime would come.

marcus thought hard about that old him and then, biting his lip, said softly, almost in a sigh, "because i was one of them."

a sidelong glance was enough for him to see olivia's mouth open wide along with her eyes. then out of nowhere, she tapped him on the shoulder, a big smile now on her mouth, "no way?! and you never told me?!"

she laughed then, not at his confession but rather at the adrenaline that flowed through her veins after it.

"i already told you. you were too good for us, me. i was shy and so scared of being rejected," his cheeks flushed as he did his best to avoid olivia's laughing eyes to his left.

"but if you never try you never know," she declared, a smile still beaming on her lips.

"olivia," he finally found the courage to look her in the eye, "you were smart, pretty, nice to everyone, you liked and played football," he listed all her qualities and the girl felt herself sink into her seat, a flustered smile on her lips, touched by all these words, "and i was just marcus rashford."

olivia frowned at his words, "what do you mean 'you were just marcus rashford'? i literally passed math because of you!" she exclaimed in all seriousness, almost angry at him for reducing himself to his name, to so little.

a laugh then echoed through the car as he threw his head back, grinning from ear to ear at olivia's words. he dragged her along with him for a while before a comfortable silence settled in where they were both still processing everything they had just said to each other and the way this night was turning out.

and as marcus parked downstairs from her building, he ended up asking her another question that he didn't know would have such nice consequences, "if i had asked you out back then, what would you have said?"

a smile that could only mean good news made its way onto olivia's face and she looked into ben's oceanic eyes, "definitely yes," she paused, "i had a crush on you too marcus," she breathed out and giggled happily, "why do you think i always sat next to you in class?"

the man's eyes opened wide, so wide he thought they would pop out of their sockets, "really?" he asked softly as a smile settled on his face once more.

"hell yeah."

"well...we look like two fucking idiots now," marcus laughed, dragging olivia along as she stretched her full lips and crinkled the corners of her eyes in hilarity.

the fifteen-year-old marcus would have jumped up and down when he heard that his feelings were reciprocated by the girl, and that same marcus would have let olivia out of her car and simply said goodbye, without trying anything more, too shy to do so. but tonight, marcus was no longer fifteen; he had gained more self-confidence and self-assurance. so today's marcus, seeing olivia open the door and put her feet on the ground, was not going to give up his chance.

that same marcus called out to her to turn around and with a charming little smile, asked her in complete hope, "could i get your number before you go?"

[loslentesdepedrito]

WIP

Thanks to @fhatbhabie for tagging me! I had to ask for clarification because I'd never heard about the game before, and they so kindly provided me with the information.

Here are three (3) works I'd like to share. Some of these are included in my masterlist with the character's initials followed by a number, but I still don't have definitive titles for them. As always, this blog is for mature audiences, and the snippets may contain explicit content.

Title: Untitled. Character(s): Joel Miller. Marcus Moreno.  Summary: In a world filled with superheroes, Joel’s parents were once part of The Heroics, yet he never inherited any superpowers. Throughout his childhood, he felt like an outcast—a black sheep without love or acceptance—not even from his own family or Sarah’s mother. The only source of genuine love in his life is his daughter, Sarah.  You and Joel have a friends-with-benefits arrangement, and when you confess your love, he can’t accept it.

Note: I need to revisit and revise this, as the descriptions of Sarah differ from the details in the show; they are solely derived from the game.

Title: Luz or La Loca  Character(s): Joel Miller. Summary: You've been enjoying a happy life alongside Joel and Ellie, your family. But imagine being offered the chance to undo the end of the world—to restore a world where the outbreak never happened. Would you take that opportunity? The catch is, it comes with the price of never crossing paths with Joel Miller or Ellie.

Note: The reader does have a physical description, albeit vague, with brown skin and the nickname Luz, meaning light in Spanish. Due to this, I'm debating whether to transform the reader into a fully-fledged OC and eliminate every instance of the second-person point of view.

Regardless, edits are necessary as Maria and Sarah from the game have a distinct appearance from their counterparts in the show.

Title: Untitled  Character(s): Marcus Pike. Tim Rockford (formally Javier Peña).  Summary: After years of marriage with Marcus, he drops a bombshell: confessing to being unfaithful. Suddenly, your world is turned upside down. He's not just the father of your children and the man you thought was the love of your life; you've also sacrificed everything to support his career. Your entire existence has been devoted to raising your children, and your social circle is completely entwined with his. With no career of your own, a life with him is the only reality you've ever known.

@mishasminion360, I loved your Max Philips piece and I'm wondering if you have anything else up your sleeve. No pressure if the answer is no!

[thepascalparadox]

Chapter Three: Echoes of Us

Word Count | 2.1k Pairing | General Marcus Acacius x OC F!Reader Chapter Warnings | Don't want to spoil it but something more happens

masterlist series You awaken with a sense of determination, resolved to make the most of your day. And by “most,” you mean finding a way to know the General better.

Not in a romantic way, of course. No, he is to be nothing more than a good friend. When I become Domina, it is only practical to be close to the General of my army. Just friends, nothing more.

Yet, deep down, you know you're only deceiving yourself. You refuse to admit it, but perhaps it’s because he is the first man to truly catch your eye. He didn’t approach you with empty flattery, boasting about his victories or wealth. Instead, he was kind, thoughtful, attentive. That simple gesture—his letter and the flower—still lingered in your mind.

I must repay him in kind, you think, though your heart knows there is more to it.

“You asked for me, Father?” you say as you enter the room where the Emperor sits, surrounded by maps, documents, and the weight of his strategies.

“Oh, dearest, indeed,” he replies, his tone warm and familiar. “I am planning a hunt with the senators and the General. Knowing your fondness for the outdoors, I thought you might wish to join us.”

“Oh, I most certainly do! There are so many things I need to gather—fresh pigments for my paints, new flowers for the gardens… perhaps even a sketch or two of the countryside,” you exclaim, the excitement bubbling in your voice.

Your father chuckles at your enthusiasm but regards you carefully before continuing. “However, I’ve noticed how you seem… uneasy in Marcus’s presence. If that troubles you, feel no obligation to attend.”

“No, no, Father, I will gladly accompany you. As for the General—well, I barely know the man. But I must confess that I may have formed some unfair opinions about his character,” you say, your voice softer than intended, almost as if admitting it to yourself.

Your father tilts his head, his expression thoughtful. “I most heartily hope you’ll come to tolerate him, at the very least. He is a good man, Aurelia. In truth, for a time, I even considered proposing your hand to him.”

Your heart stumbles at his confession. This changes everything. You had always assumed that your father would marry you to one of the wretched senators—a man he despised the least. But the idea of Marcus...

“What made you change your mind?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Fear prickles at the edges of your thoughts. Perhaps the General is already married. The pang of jealousy that surges surprises you—a pang for a woman you don’t even know, and for a man who was never yours.

Compose yourself, you think. You wanted to be friends, remember?

Your father’s reply is steady, tinged with quiet regret. “The General seems... indifferent to love. He’s spoken of how he would never make a woman a wife only to leave her a widow. But as a friend—” he pauses, his expression softening, almost wistful, “I admit, I would like to see Acacius know the warmth of love someday.”

He rises from his chair, stepping closer to you. Gently, he takes your hands in his, lowering his head slightly to meet your gaze.

“As I wish for you, my daughter,” he continues. “I have delayed as long as I could, hoping you would find a man who would truly capture your heart. But I fear I must soon make that decision myself. I plan to announce your betrothal before Acacius departs for his next, and last campaign, I'm afraid.”

“His last campaign?” The words escape you before you can temper the concern in your voice. His tone lightens as he mimics the General’s voice with exaggerated solemnity: “‘After this campaign, I will find a place to rest—whether in the quiet fields of the interior or the Elysian Fields with the gods!’”

“Do not trouble yourself with such matters, Vita Mea. Not for a few weeks yet. There is still much to plan—strategies to devise, funds to raise, preparations to make.”

Your father chuckles, clearly amused by his own impersonation. “He’s quite the witty man, the General. Now, off with you, Aurelia. The hunt begins before the sun reaches its peak.”

You leave the room feeling... unsteady. The idea of the General departing pulls at you more than it should.

Perhaps he is one of those men burdened by unhappiness, shaped by the unrelenting hand of war, you muse.

And then, almost involuntarily, another thought slips through: I wish I could change his mind.

Perhaps you can.

You just don’t yet know how a friend might do such a thing. · · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

You leave in a chariot with two other maids, but your thoughts are elsewhere. You wish Vera were with you. The two of you could have spent this time gossiping about your most recent discoveries regarding the General's life. Ever since the festivities a few nights ago, she has seemed distant, as though a veil has been drawn between you two. You saw her talking to a soldier earlier, but didn't think much of it. Was she with him today? The two ladies accompanying you are much older, and though their company is pleasant enough, they would undoubtedly slow you down.

"You shall stay here as I go fetch some flowers and things to make paint. I will not go far, and you'll be more comfortable waiting here," you tell them with a casual smile. They exchange looks of mild concern but nod in silent compliance, knowing better than to question the princess's command.

As you wander deeper into the familiar fields, the calmness of the space starts to settle over you. The flowers and the gentle breeze bring a sense of peace, almost as if your mother were right there beside you. You miss her terribly in moments like this, when your thoughts wander to what advice she would have given you—especially about how to approach the General. Is it proper for a lady to speak to a man like him? Is he truly worthy of your time? Since her death, you've rarely ventured out to the fields; your father, protective as ever, hasn't allowed you the same freedoms. You can see the years catching up with him, and the thought of disappointing him is enough to keep you in line.

The flowers here remind you of the days when your mother would bring you here to gather blossoms, to paint, to breathe freely. As you step carefully through the waist-high plants, the sight of a soldier ahead catches your eye. He’s standing near one of the poisonous trees your mother once warned you about, inspecting one of the fruits.

“You shouldn’t eat that, soldier!” you call out with a playful yet firm tone. He looks up, startled, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to approach, especially not you.

But as you draw closer, you realize this isn’t just any soldier.

“General Acacius,” you bow respectfully, surprised at how much you enjoy saying his name aloud. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Oh, not at all, Lady Aemilia,” he replies, his voice soft but careful, as if unsure whether his words are too bold. “You are always a welcome sight.”

You feel your heart flutter at the compliment, and for a moment, you forget about your awkwardness.

“You are too generous, General,” you say, averting your gaze in a subtle gesture of shyness. "I must thank you for the flowers you gave me yesterday. They helped with the pain."

A shy smile plays at his lips, and he steps closer, his movements measured as if he's unsure of the boundaries. “I’m happy I could help, my lady,” he says with a small bow. “I am here to serve you.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you find your voice again. “I must also apologize for the way I’ve behaved—at the gardens, and again at the coliseum. I was not raised to treat anyone in such a manner, and I am truly sorry.”

His gaze softens, and for the first time, you see a hint of something else in his eyes—understanding.

“We can always start again, Gemma,” he says, his voice warm, offering his arm. “Will you do me the honor of accompanying me?”

You smile shyly, almost relieved, and nod as you accept his arm.

“Must I assume you were lost from my father and the senators?” you ask playfully, trying to ease the moment with a lighter question.

“Oh, not at all,” he replies, his tone light. “I was the one who got lost. They spoke of matters I have grown weary of hearing. I came back from a place where all I heard was suffering and war. I simply needed a change of scenery, something more peaceful.”

You listen intently, your heart softening. "I see. The Senate, and sometimes even my father, seem to speak only of war and conquest. I can only imagine how tedious it must be to hear the same things over and over again."

“Indeed,” he agrees, his tone thoughtful. “But tell me, Lady Aemilia, what brings you to the woods alone? You should be accompanied by at least five of your father's best men.”

You laugh softly. “I love the fields. My father never lets me come unless he’s with me, which doesn’t happen often enough.” There’s a touch of sadness in your voice, but you quickly shift to something lighter. “And, by the way, I wasn’t the one surprised by your presence. I know these corners as well as the palm of my hand,” you tease with a playful smile.

He laughs, a sound that you find endearing, and you notice how his steps slow just a little as he seems to ponder your words.

“I see, I see…” he says, avoiding your eyes now, looking instead at the ground ahead.

As you both walk, your maids come into view in the distance, talking distractedly among themselves.

How did he knew your maids were in this direction?

“You should not be walking alone, Lady Aurelia,” he says softly, his voice taking on a note of concern. Gently, he takes your hand in his, and with a subtle, almost imperceptible motion, his thumb traces small circles over your palm. “I shall return to your father’s side now. Please, promise me you will be safe.”

You look up at him, heart fluttering at his words, and nod. “I promise, soldier.”

Before he leaves, you add, almost as an afterthought, “You may call me Aemilia, General.”

His posture straightens, his hand brushing against the hilt of his sword as he meets your eyes. For a brief moment, there’s a warmth there, an understanding between the two of you. “And you may call me however you wish, my Lady,” he replies, with a slight bow.

You smile as he turns and walks away, his steps confident, as if he knows exactly where he’s going. But you are left standing still, with a sense that something has shifted between you—something both fragile and meaningful. · · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

Sleep refused to find you, no matter what you tried. Every attempt to calm your mind—warm baths, reading, writing—had failed miserably. Thoughts of General Marcus Acacius consumed you, swirling endlessly. Had you been foolish to imagine his feelings extended beyond duty and respect? Could he truly not know how every fleeting touch of his lingered on your skin like a whispered secret? Frustrated and restless, you rose from your bed, determined to quiet your turmoil.

A walk shall fix the problem, you told yourself.

Donning a simple nightgown, you stepped into the dimly lit corridors of the palace. The chill of the marble floors sends a shiver through your bare feet, while the night breeze tangles your unbound hair. You don’t mind; the palace is cloaked in silence, its residents deep in slumber, save for the watchful eyes of the night guards stationed by the doors.

The gardens, bathed in pale moonlight, were your destination. As you reached a bench near the lake, you froze. Familiar eyes met yours in the half-light—his eyes. General Acacius sat there, looking as weary as you felt.

Him again?

"My lady," he said, standing quickly and bowing with graceful respect. "I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Shall I leave if you desire solitude?" His voice was rushed, and he looked prepared to vanish into the shadows.

"Oh, you mustn’t," you blurted, failing to suppress the desperation in your tone. "I mean—your presence is... welcome." Your cheeks burned as you fidgeted with the hem of your gown, suddenly acutely aware of how little fabric covered either of you. His tunic hung loosely over his frame, ending mid-thigh, and he shifted, seemingly just as self-conscious.

"Please, sit," he said softly, motioning to the bench beside him.

You hesitated but finally sat. The silence that followed teetered on the edge of comfort, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves. Every so often, your shoulders brushed, and each accidental touch sent an unwelcome thrill through you.

"I must ask—"

"What are you—"

You both started at the same time, the shared interruption prompting a sheepish laugh. He gestured for you to speak first.

"What are you doing here, General Marcus Acacius?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, afraid your nerves would betray you.

"I... I struggle with sleep," he admitted. "The war—it clings to a man’s mind, even in peace."

"I’m sorry to hear that," you murmured. Conversation felt so much easier with others, but with him, every word felt monumental.

"And you, Serenissima Aemilia Aurelia?" His voice softened as he brushed your shoulder lightly, the touch unspoken reassurance. "What burdens your mind tonight?"

"Not something..." you began, "but someone."

His demeanor shifted, his brow furrowing as though your words had struck him. "Is it... a boy? One of the men trifling with your affections, my lady?"

Your breath hitched. You should be the one telling me.

"Excuse me?" he asked, leaning closer, clearly having heard your whispered protest.

Suddenly, emboldened by a rush of courage, you rose, facing him with defiance. Your chin lifted, and your voice rang steady. "I am the daughter of the great Emperor Antoninus Justus. I will not be treated as a mere bauble for amusement." You took a measured breath, but your resolve did not falter. "You may be the esteemed General of the Phoenix Legion, but you are still a guest in my home."

For a moment, you paused, softening your tone. "From the start, you have shown me kindness I never expected from a soldier, and I must admit..." Your voice dropped lower. "...my thoughts have been fixed upon you in a way they never have with any other man."

"My lady…" He rises, beginning to speak, but you swiftly cut him off, making him sit back. "I am not finished," you declare firmly. "I have guarded my heart, vowing never to give it to any man, for they seem to know only destruction and death," you add, your tone steady and resolute.

"However," you continued, lifting your chin again, "if your intentions are to make a fool of me, I must demand you cease at once—"

He rose so swiftly you stumbled back, but before you could register his movement, his hands were cradling your face. His lips brushed yours in a whisper of a kiss, soft and reverent. His voice trembled against your skin, more a breath than a word: "Amor mea."

The world stood still. You surrendered to the warmth of him, your hands instinctively finding his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. But the kiss ended all too soon, and he pulled back, wide-eyed and almost startled by his own audacity.

"Forgive me," he stammered, his voice unsteady. "I don’t know what came over me—I’ve never—"

"You silly man, come here," you interrupted, seizing the fabric of his tunic and pulling him back to you. This time, he groaned against your lips, his restraint crumbling. His hands found your waist, firm yet gentle, pulling you flush against him as though afraid you’d vanish.

"We shouldn’t," he murmured against your skin, his lips tracing down to the curve of your neck. "We can’t, Aemilia."

But his actions betrayed his words as he nipped at your ear, sending a shiver through you.

"You’re the one saying this, yet here you are," you teased breathlessly, tangling your fingers in his curls. The low, defeated sound he made spurred you on, pulling him closer until it seemed nothing could separate you.

With a herculean effort, he drew away, his breathing ragged. "Carissima," he whispered, his voice pleading. "Please..."

The broken look in his eyes stung more than you cared to admit. You made a mistake. He kissed you so you would shut up. You faltered, your confidence waning. "You... you don’t want me?"

His hand shot out to grasp yours. "No, no, never think that," he said with fierce desperation. "My heart has belonged to you since the moment we met. It calls for you as the earth calls for the rain."

His words made you smile, and his answering smile was radiant. But his gaze darkened slightly as his eyes roamed your figure.

"It is not that I do not want you, Solis mea," he said, kissing the back of your hand tenderly. "It is that I want you far too much. And tonight, with so little between us..."

Your pulse quickened as his meaning sank in.

"Marcus..." you whispered, but he shook his head, cupping your face once more.

"You bring light to my darkest days, Aemilia. You bring joy where there was none. I am yours," he said simply, his forehead resting against yours. "Now and always."

And in that fragile, moonlit moment, you knew your heart was no longer your own. It belonged to him, as his belonged to you. next chapter

[crookdeclipses]

Also for Ada--Alice and Dormouse (I don't know who she hasn't met so you pick the other character--someone in Volterra?)

Alice: What future scene with this OC are you looking forward to writing/drawing?

Lol most all them 🤣🤣🤣.

But what am in most looking forward to? How badly would you judge me if I said the smut? Largely because that, for some reason is what I find easy and am most comfortably with.

Also the scene where Cem comes to the boundary between the Turks and the Greeks. The possibility of him crossing at all will require a public confession of love (which of course Ada already knows) but I think (I'm hoping) it will be a powerful moment.

Dormouse: What would they think of (name a canon character they haven't met?)

Ooo, hmm let's see

Well since you said the Volturi I'm gonna go with Marcus, because because I am a Marcus appreciator.

I think Ada would LOVE Marcus. Ada gets Marcus on a deep, deep level. The man is a walking case of heartbreak and that connects to Ada's inherently romantic nature. Mostly she feels for Marcus. She doesn't have to have everything spelled out to understand why Marcus is the way he is. To Bella, Marcus looks indifferent and bored, but Ada sees Marcus's "boredom" and understands it as what it is: despair.

Furthermore I think Ada would want to help Marcus. Though Carlisle and Jasper and Edward theorize that it was because her experience with loving her fiance Henry was limited to her human life that she was able to fall in love with Cem, Ada isn't really convinced, because she had to let Henry go after she had been changed. Thus, Ada doubts the impossibility of second attachments for vampires. It would be long and hard, certainly it is impossible for some, but she doubts that it is for all.

In all Ada would be very drawn to Marcus's tragic-romantic nature and if she was able to spend any degree of time with him, she'd want nothing more than to just get him out of his current situation with Aro who looks so much like Didyme.