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lokischocolatefountain · 6 months ago

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at last, my love has come along

Fandom: Gladiator II Pairing: General Acacius x Wife!Reader Rating: PG13 Word count: 2.9k words Summary: After the end of a loveless marriage, your father finds a match for you in General Acacius. Warnings: age gap, arranged marriage, mentions of maternal and infant mortality, widowed reader, widowed Acacius, past neglect, virgin!reader. A/N: Marcus Acacius has me in a chokehold and he knows I like it. This is a second look at the characters from home in three days, do not wash but happens earlier. You can read them in whatever order you wish. Title stolen from Etta James' At Last.

“What is he like? The Dominus?”

“He is very kind,” said one of the girls who worked on your toga. You nodded, the pearls in your earrings brushing against your skin and making the hairs on your body stand upright.

“What of my hair?”

“What of it, Domina?”

“The sun has already set. You said the Dominus will be home soon,” you said, fidgeting with the silk fabric that your sisters had presented you with before you began your travel from your village to the city. Something that would help you fit in better with the fashionable ladies and not make your husband, the General, look bad in society’s eyes.

It was not for lack of wealth that you did not own many luxurious fabrics. Only that such things did not reach your village easily and your father, despite his place in the Senate, never brought the right things home. Not for a lack of love for you and your siblings but a lack of taste in women’s clothing and jewelry.

You thought as a young girl of only fourteen that your husband, the first one, would bring you the soft silks and lustrous gold unlike your father. But he did not even bring himself home. You had been married off through letters exchanged between him and your father. It took two of living in his mansion and raising his two children from his last marriage before he finally came home. And when he did, he did not act as a husband should. Not how your older sisters told you he ought to be.

When Consus passed, you mourned not as a wife but as a friend.

“The dominus prefers unbraided hair,” the girl standing behind you said. You nodded, registering the information in your heart. You wanted to know all that there was to know about him before he even arrived. Perhaps then you would be pleasing enough to have a fate different from your last marriage.

It had been all but a year since you were widowed that your father brought you news that you would be wed to a General who lived in the capital. There was no wedding for you even this once. A repeat of your last fate. You had resigned to never knowing your husband when you reached his grand home and spent your night with servants rather than his bed.

How foolish you were to hope.

But the situation changed for the better quite suddenly when you received word that General Acacius was returning from his travel soon. You expected that the news would calm your nerves but it somehow achieved the opposite. Fear.

When the girls were happy with how they had decorated you for your husband’s eyes, they led you to his chambers. They left you there alone to stew in your anxieties about how the night would fare. The quiet of the night did not help matters. All that filled the space was the tides of the sea and the occasional clinking of your bangles as you fidgeted with your dress.

It was all you yearned for in your last marriage, a night of intimacy as a husband and wife should. But now that you were at the precipice of getting what you wanted, dread filled your chest. You’d heard from your older sisters and servants what it was like to lay with a man. From their stories, it did not seem enjoyable. Not for women. It was only something to bear for the sake of having children. And all you wanted was to have children.

You loved Consus’ children of course. They were all you had in the lonely life you led with him. But they were taken from you soon, married off or sent to battle in many campaigns. And you wanted your own children. Have what your brothers and sisters had. Hold your newborns in your arms and raise them from their first breaths rather than from the middle of their childhood.

In your fantasizing of motherhood, you had completely forgotten that you had to be bed by your husband to become a mother. You had forgotten your sisters describe how painful it would be the first time a man took you. If one’s husband was a barbarian with a big cock, it would hurt each time although not as much as the first. A servant girl told you that she had the luxury of a kind husband who would not touch her if she said she was feeling unwell. But there were also husbands who would beat their women for refusing to perform their marital duties when asked.

Your thoughts grew louder and louder in your head until you couldn’t hear the ocean anymore. And you most certainly did not hear when the doors opened and your husband entered. When you perceived his presence, he was already sat by you. When he spoke your name, your heart nearly jolted out of your chest.

He laughed softly and looked you over with a smile on his plush lips. The candle lights illuminated his golden skin and the strands of gray that interspersed his dark hair. The candle on his other side shone bright to highlight his silhouette, his aquiline nose standing bold, characteristic of a valorous man. The sight had you transfixed and you wondered if his godlike visage aided him in battle. If it distracted his enemies long enough for him to slay them.

He reached his hand out to yours, brought it up from your lap and placed a kiss on your fingers. He looked up at you from your fingers, his brown eyes drawing you in like Cupido himself was pulling your strings like a marionette.

“I have kept you waiting for long.”

Not as long as Consus did. But you kept the comment to yourself. You’d never come close to a marital bed but something told you that men did not want to hear about a woman’s previous husband.

You spoke for the first time in his presence. “You are an important man. I understand.”

He smiled, dropping your hand to the space between you but not leaving it. His hand was rough from battle yet gentle in touch. It enveloped yours, exuding a soft dominance like the rest of him did. He was quite large and you winced internally, hoping that it did not translate to his size elsewhere. Did your sisters ever tell you about the relationship between the size of his man and his manhood? You couldn’t quite remember.

“Have the servants made the home comfortable for you? It has been quite a while since this home had a domina.”

You nodded and licked your lips, wishing you could run out to fetch some water for your drying mouth. “It is comfortable. And very beautiful. I have never seen the ocean before.”

“There is nothing like the peace the sound of the waves brings. Nothing like the cool breeze at night and relaxing on the balcony to indulge in the stunning blue expanse.”

“The sight of the ocean when the sun sets is truly incomparable. I spent many evenings mesmerized by it.”

Like magic, the pressure in your lower belly disappeared. You spoke about the beauty of Rome and indulging in it. He put you at ease, drawing smiles out of you, each one wider than the last. But you had a way of finding something to torture yourself over. As you exchanged details about your past, you blurted the question out.

“Am I to your liking?”

“You are beautiful. Worthy of the praises your father sings of his younger daughter in the senate. And at banquets. The bathhouses and libraries and markets. Rome does not know your name but she knows you.”

“I…” you swallowed, relieved that he found you beautiful but afraid for everything else to come. You were inexperienced but even you knew that beautiful faces were not enough to be an adequate wife. It was not adequate for Consus and you did not want a repetition of that with the General. “I do not know what you require in a wife. But I will learn. I have kept my hair out of braids. I learned that you prefer it that way. I will learn everything else too.”

Please allow me to learn. Do not discard me for my inadequacies before I have the opportunity to prove myself.

“Your father also described you as dutiful. I see he was right.”

“Stand up,” he said and took your hand once again, guiding you to stand in front of him. “Undress. Let me see you.”

He leaned towards the headboard of the bed, relaxing with his arm draped over it as he looked at you. You felt your heart thud like a galloping horse on the battlefield. Like a good soldier would, you persisted into your own battle and undid the ties and clasps that kept your clothes in place. He sat back, exuding power with his broad shoulders, wide chests and thick thighs spread apart.

Something about the situation made you feel like cattle in the market being evaluated by customers. Did the cows feel the way you did? Did they wonder as they were purchased if they would be slaughtered for meat or kept to be bred and milked? At least they had the peace of mind knowing that the man who bought them was satisfied with his purchase.

The General hadn’t seen you before he took you for a wife.

Silk pooled around your legs and the cold breeze he’d waxed poetic about caressed your skin. The cold and the shame of being bare in front of a man persuaded you to cross your arms over your chest. You kept your eyes on the ground, focusing on his feet and yours being so close together.

You jumped when his hand grazed your elbow but refused to look at him for fear of what you would find. Disappointment? Disgust? Anger? You could not fathom which would be the worse outcome.

“Do not hide from your husband,” he said, gently prying your arms apart. Arms by your side, you dug your fingernails into your palm to keep from covering yourself again. Consus never laid a hand on you— never bedded you, never hit you. The General had been sweet so far, but you did not know who he was and what he did when angered.

He held your hip and caressed your soft skin with his calloused hand. You inhaled sharply, overwhelmed by the proximity of his hand to your core. You pressed your thighs together, your feminine demureness anxious to keep your most intimate parts hidden from men’s eyes.

“Turn around. Slowly,” he said, guiding you by your hips. As soon as you faced away from him, you brought your hands back up to cover your breasts. He did not seem to notice as his hand trailed down to your rear and grabbed your flesh in both hands. You whimpered, feeling somehow more exposed though you had not become more naked.

“Beautiful…” he hummed as he rotated you to face him once again. You dropped your arms to your sides as though you had touched a hot pot, his instruction ringing in your ear.

“And obedient… I could not have chosen better. Now show me what you can do, girl.” It was enough for you to finally look up at him. There were none of the expressions you feared you would see. He looked quite relaxed and you were afraid you would ruin that with your ignorance of what you were to show him.

“I will do anything you ask,” you answer meekly, hoping he would tell you exactly what he wanted you to do. Hoping he would instruct you every step of the way.

“Show me how you will serve me.”

You swallowed, thinking through every bit of information your sisters and servants had given on pleasing a man. It all came down to obedience, to lying down and taking what your husband gave you. Were you supposed to do something else?

“P-please,” you whispered, the world distorted as it spilled from your trembling lips. “Show me what I should do.”

He stood up, startling you and forcing you to take a step back. He placed a hand on your lower back and caressed gently like you did a litter of feral kittens when you were a girl.

He placed a finger under your chin and nudged you to look up at him. “Nothing you should do, beautiful girl. I only want what you want to do.”

“I have never…” you trailed, shaking your head in denial. “I am still chaste,” you blurted out. He froze in place, deep brown eyes boring into you.

“Your father said you were a devoted mother.”

“To Consus’ children. Borne by his first and second wives. After his second wife died in childbirth, he— I raised the children.”

“You do not want children of your own?”

“I do!” You exclaimed quickly, afraid this life would be taken from you once again. You kept silent throughout your marriage and you couldn’t do that again. Not if it meant your womb staying barren. “I do. Consus, he— both his wives before me died in childbirth and the children— he did not want them to lose another mother. So he never touched me. I am chaste.”

“Your father did not tell me.”

“I did not tell him. Consus wrote to my family that I lost pregnancies. Had my father known that he was— that we did not live as a married man and woman— he would have had me divorce him. Consus did not want that for the children and I could not tell my family the truth until he passed. Please… If my father believed I could not bear children, he would not have arranged for our marriage.”

You naively believed your father would have informed the General of your predicament. Giving one’s daughter to a man when you believed her barren was no small slight. Your felt as though a stone had lodged itself in your throat. You had just doomed yourself and your father. He could march up to the senate come sunrise. Humiliate your father. Take his sword to his neck. All because you were too foolish to know how to please a man.

“What of you?”

“What of me?” You asked, confused. He took your hands in his and guided you to sit on the bed. He joined beside you.

“Why did you remain loyal to such a loathsome man? One who besmirched you to your family rather than admit to his deficiencies as a man?”

“I was young and foolish. When I realized that he would never give me children, I… he had already lied enough to my family about my—” you stopped and shook your head. There was no need to speak ill of the dead man. No need to remind yourself how your barrenness made you the laughing stock of the village. “I resigned myself to the fate the gods had chosen for me. And I grew to love his children as my own.”

“I want more children. I ha— all my sons are dead, a few daughters too.”

You nodded, your chest clenching from the pained look in his eyes. It was universal. Almost everyone who’d had children had lost children. But the pain never subsided. You’d seen it in your sisters, noble women of the highest ranking, in servants and slaves. The first time in a General.

“I want to have children.”

He smiled and nodded before picking up your linen stola from the ground and wrapping it around you. He cupped your cheek, his hand engulfing the entirety of your face. He tilted his head, a soft sigh escaping his lips as his eyes bore into yours.

You leaned closer to him, praying you remembered how to kiss from the few times with a servant girl when you were only thirteen. Anticipation and anxiety had your heart racing together. When he finally touched his lips to yours, he quietened every anxiety, leaving only excitement behind. You placed a hand on his armor, the hardness of the metal underneath the leather contrasting the softness of his lips. Your other hand moved of its own accord, finding the nape of his neck. His soft curls tickled your fingers and he sighed into the kiss.

He traced your lips with the tip of his tongue and you opened up, welcoming him. A sense of calm settled in you as you explored each other. In his arms, you found safety for the first time since your arrival. His lips coaxed you to the gates of heaven and you followed as you imagined soldiers followed your General into war. With some fear of the uncharted territory yet brave because they trusted his leadership.

When you pulled away from each other, something felt changed. He no longer felt like a stranger. Something in his eyes, an openness inviting you into his life.

The ravages of war and time were evident in his features. A scar on the bridge of his nose perhaps from a time he came too close to his own end. His skin was spotted with marks from the sun. His eyes were soft not from the naïveté of youth but from seeing the harsh world. His golden skin peeked from under his beard decorated with a few grey flecks. You caressed a patch of skin where his beard did not grow.

Not an hour had passed since you met him but in his embrace, glancing into his eyes, you knew life would be peaceful.

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#marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #general acacius #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x y/n #marcus acacius x female reader #Marcus acacius x ofc #gladiator 2 #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius fic #pedro pascal character fanfic #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 fanfiction #gladiator 2 fic

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beomcoups · 2 months ago

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fated strut- pt. i

̗̀➛ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: greek god!Jeonghan x model!reader

̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In a whirlwind fashion show, a part-time model's life takes a mystical turn when she becomes the muse for the captivating Greek God Jeonghan. Unbeknownst to her, she shares a deep connection tied to his past. As their chemistry ignites amidst secrets and rivalries, will love conquer their complicated fates?

̗̀➛ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst, smut, fantasy, doppleganger au, r 18+

̗̀➛ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nocturnal emission (sex dream), unprotected sex, kissing, fingering, backshots, riding, oral, biting, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, pet names, sweet stuff, a lil bit of squirting, cream pie, oh and cursing 😂

̗̀➛ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 7.2k

̗̀➛ 𝐀𝐍: This fic has had me stressed for the last couple of months lol. I have always been into greek mythology (I even hosted a multi collab before for it) and I got the idea earlier this year to do another one but just for seventeen. Thank you Maren @wooahaeproductions for hosting the 13 Gods Of Olympus collab with me and helping it come to life. Also thank you to @hannieween and @hobeemin for beta reading this and giving me some much needed feedback. I knew what I had was good and with your help it made it better :) also thank you to @cheolism and @junkissed for letting me run some ideas with them about the greek mythology and the BC era lol. I hope you like this 🖤

Golden light filters through your curtains, casting soft shadows that dance across the room. The scent of something sweet—honey and vanilla—lingers in the air, pulling at the edges of your consciousness. Everything feels so real and vivid, so alive. There is a haze in the light that looks nostalgic.

You are sitting on a kline, handcrafted by Hephaestus himself, weaving away with a ball of twine in your hands. The clatter of sandals against the hard floor gets your attention. Looking up, Jeonghan is standing there, his blonde hair shimmering in the light, with a playful smile on his lips.

“Shouldn’t be off delivering those messages to the mortals?” You tease him playfully.

“They can wait,” he says, setting down his bag. “I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

“Oh?” You slowly set down your twine. “What is that?”

He walks over and kisses you deeply, sending ripples through your soul. You realize quickly that the “pressing matter” was that he wanted to be inside of you, and you were more than happy to oblige.

“Jeonghan, you’re going to get in trouble with Zeus,” you taunt him.

“I don’t care,” he grits, pulling you into another kiss.

You take off your gown, your nakedness exposed to him in all its glory. Jeonghan’s eyes you with adoration and lust, his hand palming the growing bulge under his toga. Sheer excitement runs through your veins, the thought of being roughly fucked on the kline making you wet with arousal. As if he read your mind, he tugs at your hair and bends you over, his fingers seductively playing with your sweet folds.

“You’re already so wet for me, my love?” He licks your essence coated on his digits. “I have to break the rules more often.”

Your laugh is light as the air, anticipating and craving him deeply. You find yourself pressing your clit, spreading your legs apart, and rubbing it so he can get a better view. Jeonghan licks his lips at the sight before him, his hand stroking his cock as he lines up to your entrance.

“Please,” your breathy moans floating in the room. “Give it to me.”

“As you wish,” he murmurs as he inserts himself in your clenching heat. Your back arches as his thrusts go deep, the clapping sound of your skin against his hard and loud enough to create thunder from the heavens. Jeonghan looks down in amusement, watching your ass bounce every time he snaps his hips. He’s turned on and seduced, and you could have him turn into puddy with just one look. That’s how much he is into you. That’s how much he loves you.

“You feel s-so g-good,” you barely sound out. “I-I love you.”

Jeonghan pulls you by your hair, his thrusts unrelenting as he kisses you hard. “I love you too.”

He raises his leg on the kline, pushing you back down, and strokes you from another angle. Your legs shake, your peak nearing as he continues to hit your pleasure points in all the right ways. “FUCK” is all you can scream out before you come undone, your essence squirting all over him and the floor. You are a whimpering mess, clutching the edge of the kline as he continues his onslaught until his release comes shortly after. He fills you up with his hot load, pumping his dick until he is spent, slowly slipping out of you. The loss is evident, and his cum starts to drip in between your folds.

“Uh, uh,” he frowns as he crouches behind you. “We can’t leave that to waste, can we?”

He swipes what’s dripping down your leg with his fingers, returning them to your mouth to suck. You suck them with earnest, your eyes closing with sexual gratification. He turns you wild, and you want more. You attempt to initiate another round, but you are interrupted by the sound of thunder just outside your window, scaring you half to death.

“Sounds like the big guy is mad,” Jeonghan reluctantly pulls away. “I have to go.”

“Yeah, I know,” you nod, kneeling down to grab your gown. “You’ll be back, right?”

He gazes at you with the softest eyes you have ever seen, letting him pull you close into another kiss. “Don’t I always come back?”

Your world shifts into a fading memory, the golden haze slowly replaced with stark brown walls and paintings. Jeonghan is gone. The thunder outside is as real as ever, followed by a bolt of lightning that feels too close to home. Reality slowly sets in, and you realize you are having a dream. This is the second one you have had this week with Jeonghan, the infamous Greek god. It feels natural, like you’re watching a memory of yourself, and you don’t understand it.

You frantically grab your journal, jotting down every moment before the details get fuzzy and lost forever. This has to mean something, right?

A few weeks later...

You feel the galvanic buzz of anticipation humming as you stand backstage at Paris Fashion Week. Models twirl past you, dripping in the latest haute couture, their expressions exuding fierceness. You? You were just happy to be there. As the last-minute addition, the unexpected wildcard about to open the show—your heart races, matching the rhythm of the music that spills into the warehouse. The scent of expensive cologne and crepitus excitement lingers around you.

You weren’t even supposed to be here at all. You model in your part-time to pay the bills, but your real love, your true passion, is classical studies—specifically, your focus on Greek mythology. Growing up, you’ve always heard the stories of the Gods who ruled the world and how slowly but surely they started disappearing because people quit believing in them. Your mom, who raised you pagan, would tell you about missionaries coming over and preaching the Bible and using it in force, and people started losing their way and adapting to this new life. There are still gods amongst us who will never go away, no matter what. People are still human and have needs, after all.

That’s what brought you here tonight—Jeonghan, the god of many things, keeps appearing in your dreams; scenes of a past life take up much of your night, and you can’t ignore it anymore. You have to see and know him, and you aren’t above using unconventional methods to get what you want. You cozied up to the right people and got yourself cast onto his fashion show. Sometimes, all it takes is a look, a touch of your hand, or very selective words to get what you want. You aren’t sure you would call it a power… let’s just say you are persuasive.

“Thank the gods you are here tonight,” the stage manager, Lea, says as she adjusts your dress. “I can’t believe she didn’t show up.”

The model that was supposed to open up the show, Penelopeia, partied a little too hard the night before. How do you know this? You were right beside her, dancing and drinking the night away. You knew her in passing, working for the same modeling agency, and talked here and there, but you two aren’t friends. But you were out with acquaintances last night, and she was there. Ultimately, she is a grown woman and can make her own choices, but you might��ve given her some extra encouragement when she complained about her being tired and “needing” a break. You told her it was “fine” to blow off some steam, which wouldn’t mean anything. The touch of your hand when you held hers and listened to her cry about how tough her life is and whispered nothings in her ear. It was perfect.

“Are you ready?”

You nod as the music changes, the lights dim, and you take your place behind the runway. Your heartbeat matched the drum's beat in your ears.

“I'm like some kind of supernova... watch out!”

On cue, you walked, every gaze drawn to you as your body moved to the beat, each step a spell cast upon the audience. Unbeknownst to you, Jeonghan stood backstage, mesmerized by the essence you exuded, a natural allure that made him curious with its intensity.

You circle the runway and walk back to where you came from, your body on autopilot as your linen dress sashes across your body. You are rushed backstage, the dress slipping off of you hurriedly, briefly exposing your breasts while you are putting on another. You feel eyes burning into the back of your neck, and you instinctively turn around, meeting Jeonghan's soft brown eyes. His warm blonde locks hang below his ears, touching his delicate neck. He smirked, raising his glass of red wine, and you meekly looked away, clearly affected by a god's presence.

Jeonghan watches you intently as you take another lap around the runway. The familiarity of your presence slowly creeps in, and curiosity is taking care of the cat. He’s been around for a long time now, and he’s seen a lot of faces, old and new. But you remind him of an old lover from his past life, someone he prefers to keep buried in the back of his mind. You were clearly a doppelganger of her, and watching you in the flesh unnerves him to his core. There is no need to bring up thousands-year-old drama now. You’re in front of him now, beautiful as ever, and despite every red flag— he will have you wrapped around his fingers by the end of the night.

You walk backstage and are dragged to the side by your dresser, who is adjusting your clothes one last time for your final walk. She fusses with your hair, a small annoyance you put up with because you know she is doing her job. You find yourself searching for Jeonghan through the slew of models, your eyes not resting until you see him talking to his stage assistant near the beginning of the runway. He is a god in every sense of the word. Butterflies flutter in the pit of your stomach when you see his soft, delicate features and how he carries himself. Very deific, very mindful.

“He’s mesmerizing, isn’t he?”

You slowly come out of your self-induced trance, meeting the eyes of your dresser, Helen, a younger woman who couldn’t be older than 21. Her doe-eyed look makes her look innocent, and you feel the need to protect her from this cruel industry.

“He’s okay,” you clear your throat.

“Oh please, he’s a divine enigma,” Helen chuckled, a playful smirk gracing her lips. “It’s perfectly natural to admire someone’s allure, especially someone so utterly enchanting as HIM.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her outburst, knowing that deep down, she was right. Jeonghan is the sexiest man you have ever laid eyes on. It doesn’t help that he is the god of fortune, luxury, and all the other things that make him much more attractive.

“Okay, it’s time to do the final walk,” Helen announces as she finishes up. “You are going to walk out with him in front since you technically walked first in the show.”

You gaze at Jeonghan across the way, watching him wrap up his conversation with the stage assistant. “Is this custom? I thought usually the models walk out one final time, and then the designer comes out towards the end.”

“Usually, yeah,” Helen shrugs. “But that’s not how Jeonghan does things.”

She lightly pushes you towards the front, catching his attention as the strobe lights change colors. You glowed in your dress, symbolizing a halo of beauty that made it hard for Jeonghan to turn away. This catches him off guard, a strange chill running through his veins that he is unfamiliar with. Keeping himself in line, he saunters over to you, his close proximity filling your stomach with butterflies.

“Don’t be nervous, baby,” he whispers in your ear. “I don’t bite.”

The thought of his perfect mouth giving you love bites thrills you, and an intense longing starts to brew within your core. Feeling bold, you smile softly, responding in a tone only he could hear.

“Well, that’s too bad.”

Jeonghan chuckles lightly, impressed by your cheekiness. He slips his arm between yours, waiting for the curtains to open. The light touch of his arm brushing against yours gives you goosebumps, the exuberance bubbling inside you. You’ve studied him all your life, read the stories, and visited the ancient sites from many moons ago. You have never been near a Greek god, let alone touch one, and for a moment, you forget why you were really there. You were just a pretty model, attracted to the most successful man in the world, and the way he looks at you right now is setting your loins on fire.

The curtains finally open, and you walk with him arm and arm like you were his equal. The other models did as they were supposed to do, walking behind you as you two set the runway ablaze. You stood in the center while he gave his bows; the audience applauded in crescendos. Jeonghan then returns to your side, his presence intoxicating and making you almost lose your senses. You walk in unison until you reach backstage, and Helen is waiting for you to help you out of your dress. Before you parted ways, he lightly touched your hand, grabbing your attention and Helen’s, with raised eyebrows.

“I’m interested in sharing another stage with you,” he whispers, his brown eyes gleaming with desire. “Without all the light and people watching us. Beyond the runway.”

You cock an eyebrow playfully, putting on your best poker face, but inside, nervousness eats at you alive. You know you shouldn’t do this, as your sole reason was to find answers about him and why he encompasses your every dream. It took a lot of sweet talking and favors to get you in his lineup, let alone starting the show and inadvertently being his muse of the day. You knew you were going to have to mix your business with pleasure, and with the way he is gazing at you, the business is going further in the back of your mind.

“Where do I sign up?” You say coyly, rubbing your finger against the fabric of his shirt.

“Meet me in the back in fifteen minutes, and I’ll take you to my place.”

You nod, and he leaves you with a soft kiss on your cheek. “Don’t be late.”

You watched him walk away, still feeling his warm lips on your cheek. You kept it cool, casually grabbing your things, but inside, you were buzzing, excitement bursting through your chest like fireworks. You weren’t sure what the night would bring, but you would never turn down the possibility of being in the company of a Greek god.

You make your way to the back as directed, exchanging goodbyes with Helen and watching the models leave one by one. Fifteen minutes exactly, Jeonghan appears, twirling his car keys in his hands and opening the back door for you, leading you to a classic Mercedes Benz 250CE. He opens your door like the gentleman he is, making sure you are secure in your seat before coming over to the driver’s side.

“Are you ready to go, doll?”

You nod, your sparkling eyes matching your smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The car ride was a short one, but it felt like it was going on forever. He played smooth jazz, driving with one hand and conveniently placing his hand on your thigh. Your mind was filled with thoughts of your dreams—the intimacy you felt and the sadness that tormented you when he disappeared.

“You seem comfortable,” Jeonghan observed. “Most people would be scared to be with me.”

“Well, I have a feeling I am in good hands,” you answer honestly.

You had so many questions about him as a Greek god, as it's not often (or really at all) that you can talk to one. Despite these waves of emotions tugging at your heart, you maintained a flawless facade until you arrived at his residence, a beautiful hotel that housed penthouses only the wealthy lived in.

“Welcome in.”

The housekeeper greeted you as you walked into Jeonghan’s penthouse, located in the heart and soul of Paris. The interior was dripped in luxury, feeling more like an art gallery than a place to live. Everything has a place, and it makes you nervous about even moving around in the event you accidentally bump into something. The vinyl player played soulful jazz, a fancy concert piano was in the corner and hundreds of books lined up like his own personal library. Jeonghan guides you by your waist to the kitchen, a grand spectacle of the finest cooking ware, dishes, and appliances that were way above your budget. You sit on a stool while he pours you a glass of red, the finest from Chateauneuf du Pape.

“Nice place,” you sweet talk him. “I would say you must’ve worked hard to get all this, but I know better.”

“Do you?” He counters, handing you your glass. “Do you think you know everything?”

“I know what I know from books, archives, etcetera,” you explain casually. “It’s not like I can ring up Zeus and ask him to read me a bedtime story.”

His lips curve as he chuckles, watching you sip the rich ruby-red liquid in your glass. “You have a sense of humor. I like that.”

You smirked, leaving him to his thoughts as you walked towards the large picture window, looking at the Eiffel Tower. It’s late, but the city has so much life in it. The tall, grandeur buildings that have stood through the ages are accompanied by French lights and taxis flying back and forth at night. Between your studies, walking runways, and doing commercial shoots, it was a matter of time before you made it out of the United States and into Paris.

You aren’t this in-demand model agencies are banging the door down for. But when you come to work, you work. You know how to convince people to take a chance on you, whether it's your words of intellect or how you pose. Your mom always taught you to be observant and scope the scene before you act; that advice hasn’t stirred you wrong before.

In the window's reflection, you watch Jeonghan gently place his glass on the table, the soft clink barely breaking the serene silence. He strides to your right, his presence warm and magnetic as he stands beside you, eyes mesmerized by the sprawling cityscape before you.

“So why are you here? Aside from the obvious.”

Jeonghan’s question catches you off guard, stirring you out of your peaceful daydream.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, baby,” Jeonghan cocks his head. “Don’t play coy.”

Your response hangs in the air as you search for the right words. How do you confess to a god that you've been dreaming of them without knowing why? You are sure they have heard it all before, and you wouldn’t be any different.

“Honestly speaking,” you start, taking another sip of your wine. “I’ve studied you all my life: the Greek Gods and the beings you used to be on Earth. Your stories fascinate me, and I want to put this master’s degree in classical studies to good use.”

“Uh huh,” Jeonghan hums. “Are you sure that’s it?”

“I mean, I may have other reasons… but I can’t tell you all my secrets.”

You finish the remnants in your glass, sauntering and setting it next to his. You glance up, your heart beating fast as you meet his gaze. He watches you intently, a spark of amusement dancing in his beautiful brown eyes as he watches you internally squirm. At that moment, it feels as though the world has narrowed down to just the two of you, and you feel yourself being sucked into his spell.

“Well, are you going to stare at me all night or show me around this place?”

You raise your hand, waiting for him to grab it and lead the way. He does just that, showing you around his massive penthouse. You don’t know if you could ever afford this place even if you had all the money in the world. Every room has its bathroom, and the balcony is beautifully decorated with a view to die for. You notice another room with more books than the collection you saw earlier, and you make a note later to ask about it… even hoping to take a peek at potentially ancient history.

Jeonghan slipped his hand on your waist as the tour went on, pulling you close like you were already his. His slender fingers held on to you kind of tight, like he was imprinting on you… You can’t say you don’t like that.

You stop in front of his bedroom, the dark forest green double-doored room paired with gold handles waiting to be opened. You gaze at Jeonghan, who leans against the door, casually putting his hands in his pockets.

“Is there a reason why we are just standing here?” You pose, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“No reason at all,” he responds, pulling you closer to him. “I just like looking at my bedroom door closed, that’s all.”

You raise an eyebrow, quite aware that he is teasing you. Being around him gives you a rush through your veins, a magnetic pull that sets your nerves and soul on fire. You know you should be doing a better job fighting this attraction between you two, but being around him makes you slowly lose all of your senses. He’s intoxicating; you feel hazy, like you are in a dream and don’t want to wake up.

“So, are you going to sweet talk me in front of this door all night, or are you going to let me in?”

He chuckles softly as he opens his doors, leading to a grand master bedroom that all of the words in the dictionary couldn’t come close to describing. You knew he was the god of luxury, but what’s in front of your eyes exceeds that. This is opulence in its purest form. His massive king-size bed was decked with the finest white blankets and pillows filled with goose feathers that looked handcrafted with care. Your toes bask in the softest fur rug you have ever touched. It felt like you were walking on clouds. Jeonghan motions for you to sit on the bed, taking your hand as he helps you climb up. Your dress rises a bit, exposing your inner thigh to your surprise and his delight.

“Don’t get any ideas,” you rib, crossing your legs slowly.

“Don’t worry, baby. You’ll give me an invitation by the end of the night.”

You roll your eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you adjust your dress. Watching him move with purpose to his shelf, he pulls out a vinyl and puts it in the player. Recognizing Billie Holiday's distinct and powerful voice, you lean back into the pillows and watch him approach the other side of the bed. With a snap of his fingers, the lights dim, opening the curtains and revealing another side of Paris, a quieter one that shows the city below. The ceiling separates slowly, revealing a twilight blue skyline with dark clouds surrounding you. It’s beautiful.

You feel the bed shift on your left, and Jeonghan climbs quietly, his movements as light as a cat. He lifts the comforter, a gentle invitation for you to come under as his feet disappear under the thick cover.

“Are you this friendly with all the women you bring over?” You smirk, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” his laugh is light as he rakes his fingers through his hair. “Just the ones I like.”

You nod, following his lead and slowly basking into the warm cover. You can still see him in the low light, his radiance shining through the dark room. Maybe it’s because of your extensive research of him and your knowledge, but he feels familiar. Every fiber in your body tells you to pull closer to him and confess every little thought swirling in your head. Is this what it’s like to be in front of a god?

“So, a master's in Classical Studies, huh?” Jeonghan probes, his index finger making a swirling motion on his sheets. “Let me guess, you have a focus on Greek mythology?”

Despite putting on your best poker face, you felt like something bitter went down your throat. He caught you off guard, and to be frank, it’s your fault. The god of many things and the most intelligent being to walk on this Earth would of course know who you are. He probably had your whole life story while you walked on his runway.

“Ah,” you exhale. “You must think I’m crazy.”

“Nah, I don’t,” he assures. “I’m very intrigued by you.”

“Are you?”

“Yes. You’re smart, carry yourself well, almost as witty as me, and very well-spoken. Why do you choose to model instead of working in something with your degree?”

You stare at him, his words chipping away at your exterior piece by piece. You could sit here and come up with a lie that sounds plausible and keep your secrets. But you want to know why he keeps plaguing your dreams, and maybe he has the answers you need to make sense of this. Some honesty can’t hurt, right?

“I… like the attention,” you confess. “I like the way people look at me when I walk by. I love being adored and wanted. I like that I am so educated and an effective communicator that I can talk myself into things I want to be in. That and my looks combined? I don’t get turned down often.”

Jeonghan gazes at you, wondering if he should be amazed at your self-awareness or frightened. Admittedly, your confidence turns him on, and you have the kind of intellect he likes on a deeper level. Your voice is calm and seductive without even trying, and not to mention, you have a timeless beauty that makes it hard to look away. When you walked down that runway, your stride was a beautiful masterpiece—it held him captive. It was as if you were trained by Aphrodite herself.

“Plus, I am not totally abandoning my degree,” you continue on. “I want to eventually write about the Greek gods and the legends behind them. So many stories and their lore have been forgotten as people worship other gods, and I don’t want that to be forgotten. It feels like a passion project, but I know this will benefit the world somehow.”

“How?”

“Well,” you clear your throat. “It will provide a different perspective of ancient civilization.”

You run your hands through your hair, causing the v top of your dress to shift slightly, partially revealing your cleavage. You reach down to adjust it, and Jeonghan eyes your every move as you gradually slide your dress back up. It’s your favorite dress, which you picked up at a thrift store a long time ago in New York. It’s a jade green evening dress that hugs your body the right way, with a mid-thigh split on the right.

“You’re quiet,” you observe, shifting your body closer to him. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing, just taking in what you said.” He pauses, his finger slowly sliding down to the slit of your dress. “I like the way you think.”

You nod, carefully choosing your next words. “I’m glad I made you feel that way.”

Your insides are on fire, begging for him to touch you in all the wrong right places. As if he could read your mind, he pulls you in for a kiss, his soft lips tearing down any walls you had. In a swift motion, he’s on top of you, hiking your dress up as he grinds his growing bulge against your sensitive core. A pleased hum escapes your lips, your body completely giving in to him.

“Mmm, you smell sweet,” Jeonghan utters, biting the bottom of your lip. “I’m sure you’ll taste just as good.”

His lips travel down your neck, sucking on your smooth skin until it's tender. Your hands desperately grab onto his silky blond hair as his tongue plays in circles along your collarbone, igniting a fire in you. You slowly lower the straps of your dress, tugging at the silky fabric until it lowers completely, revealing your breasts. Jeonghan marvels at the sight in front of him, his fingers brushing softly against your nipples.

“Ah, you’re a goddess,” he whispers. “I’m going to have fun with you.”

He kisses you again, his hunger for you hot and strong as he unbuttons his shirt, revealing his smooth chest and defined abs. Fire and desire burn between you two, and you thirstily tug at his pants, pushing them down so you can see his cock, threatening to break free in his boxers.

“You are an eager little thing, aren’t you?”

“I just know what I like, that’s all.”

Leaving you with one last kiss, he moves on your breasts, cupping them softly and sucking on your nipples with such tenderness as if they were prized possessions. Your perfume mix smells pleasant to him, like an aphrodisiac, and he cannot get enough. Jeonghan usually likes to play with his food a bit before he eats it, but you bring something out of him that he hasn’t felt in a long time: impulsiveness and passion. He wants you more than he cares to admit, making him act out of his cool, calm, and collected nature. He sucks on your nipples harder, earning a hard moan from you, the blend of pleasure and pain igniting waves of excitement that leaves you breathless.

His hand slips in between your legs, pushing them apart and sliding your panties to the side. His thumb rubs your clit softly, sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body. Jeonghan has you feeling like you are floating on air, unable to tell him what you want coherently.

“Mmm… fuck I can’t take this,” you mutter.

“Well, you will learn tonight, baby,” Jeonghan smirks as he lowers himself to your sweet entrance. “Tell me what you want.”

“F-fuck,” you cooed. “You know what I want.”

“Just because I am a god doesn’t mean I can read your mind,” he teases, biting softly on your thigh. “Tell me what you want.”

You feel hot and rabid, trying to chase a high you are so close to getting. Jeonghan removes his thumb from your nub, snickering as he watches you groan in protest. He is determined to make you beg for it, and watching you squirm and fall apart underneath him would be the highlight of his night. He inserts a digit inside your wet core; a sweet smile spreads across your face soon after.

“J-Jeonghan,” you sputter. “P-please just—”

“Say it, baby.”

“Fuck, just make me cum, please.”

Jeonghan slips a second finger into you, leaving small kisses on your thigh as he thrusts into your wet cunt. Your hands grip the sheets as he goes deeper, watching excitedly as your essence coats his fingers and his sheets. He planned to study you, explore what made you tick, and how your body liked to be teased. He wants to hear your perfect voice scream his name as your body shakes from being royally fucked by a god, and the way you are laid out in front of him, he is losing all composure.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs. “I think you deserve to cum now.”

Quickly removing his fingers, he dives into your wet folds with his tongue and up to your sensitive clit. His fingers intertwine with yours, eating you with such a craze, the hunger of a starved being who is eating his favorite meal for the last time. The vibrating hums of his mouth to your delicate flower sends you over the edge, your orgasm crashing down on you hard. He holds onto your thighs, holding you hostage as he takes everything you got. You proved him right—you tasted just as sweet as your perfume. He’s addicted to your aroma, a natural aphrodisiac that he will never get enough of.

“There you are, princess, ” he whispers. “Keep giving it to me.”

Your moans turn into whines and then screams, your fingers desperately clinging to the sheets as he drinks you in. Jeonghan’s appetite is insatiable, and the god’s thirst for you is getting stronger by the minute. His nails dig into your thighs as he licks up and down your folds, desperate to taste more of your sweet essence. You feel airy, your body floating on cloud nine as if you have never had this kind of pleasure before. Sure, you have had your experiences and what you thought was the best sex of your life, but those don’t even come close to this.

“Come on baby, give me another,” he goads you. “I know you have it in you.”

“J-Jeonghan,” you croak, desperation falling on your lips. “P-please. You win.”

“Win?” He chuckles softly. “ I haven’t even started.”

His fingers return to your entrance, thrusting into you while his tongue remains on your clit. His lips make lewd noises, slurping and smacking away as he bullies you into your second orgasm of the night. Your toes curl, the springs in your abdomen snapping as it ripples through you like a hard wave. Jeonghan moans into your sweet core as you surrender to him; his pupils dilate as he takes the remaining energy that you have left. His free hand furiously pulls down his boxers, liberating his cock, and he touches himself at last. He jerks himself to the thought of your mouth wrapped around his dick, tasting his cum as he shoots loads down your throat. He could easily stop and make his imagination a reality, but you just taste too damn good.

“Damn,” you curse, brushing his hair from his face. “You are so good at this.”

“Mmhmm,” is all he could say, his cruel tongue still playing circles around your clit. You lift yourself away from him, watching him pout as you take his meal. You can barely move, your legs still spasming from that earth-shattering orgasm. Your eyes travel lower to his freed cock, watching him pump himself with such eagerness, the precum oozing from his tip begging to be sucked. He was thick and girthy, his veins popping in places you liked. Your mouth salivates at the thought of tasting him in your mouth.

“Can I?”

You sit up, gently motioning for him to lay back on the pillow. Curiosity gets the better of him, and he does what he is told, relaxing his hands behind his head. Jeonghan isn’t used to his playmates wanting to take control in the bedroom; most of them just want to have a story to tell about being fucked by a god. You excite him, a confident woman who knows what they want and isn’t apologetic about it. The twinkle in your eye you have for him turns him on, and he is counting the seconds where he can finally be inside of you.

Your hand slides up his shaft, watching him shudder from your touch. You lean down, sucking on his tip and tasting his precum. You make eye contact as you take more of him, hallowing your cheeks and letting saliva drip out of the corners of your mouth. He tastes better than you imagined, and you feel gratification watching his lips part and low moans escape his pretty little mouth. You feel dirty, like his own personal whore, and you aren’t mad at that. Your very sensitive core still wants him, your clit pulsating at the thought of his very thick cock beating your walls down.

“You look so beautiful with your lips wrapped around me, princess,” he grunts, taking a handful of your hair. “Let’s see if you can handle me.”

Jeonghan fucks your mouth roughly with such a force and rhythm that was only his, tears streaking your face as you take him whole. His dick hits the back of your throat, and you are thankful that you have a mean gag reflex. It’s smooth, clean, and fits your mouth just right. It’s like it was molded and shaped just for you. Your hand sneaks in between your legs, playing with your nub and willing yourself to cum for the third time.

“Tsk, tsk, you dirty girl,” Jeonghan murmurs between grunts. “You do want me that bad? Do you want my cock inside your wet cunt?”

You nod fervently, your fingers increasing their pace. He pulls himself out of your mouth suddenly, lifting your head and kissing you with such an intense fire, his hands grasping your ass and giving it a tight smack.

“I want to ride you, baby,” you breathe between kisses. “I want to feel you inside of me. Give me that, please.”

He wants you as bad as you want him, his adrenaline pumping through his veins as he positions himself on the bed. His hands grab your hips, hovering over him as he aligns his cock to meet your entrance. The thought came to your mind about using a condom, but it went away quickly when you sunk onto him. He feels good; your walls tighten around him as you adjust to his size, rocking slowly back and forth to get a rhythm.

“That’s it,” Jeonghan groans as he cups your breasts. “Take me however you want me.”

You increase your pace while he bucks into you, biting your lip until it's crimson red. His nails dig into your hips, the pain mixed with the pleasure sending you soaring through cloud nine. You lose all inhibition, riding him harder and deeper, addicted to chasing that orgasmic high that you feel coming sooner than you’d expected. Your body is on autopilot, refusing to stop until you’ve cummed on him at least once. If you didn’t know any better, you would say you were falling in love with him. The sex you had with him in your dreams doesn’t even come close to the real thing. His cock consistently hits all the right places, and he pays great attention to your body, teasing you and pushing you to your limits until you are sent over the edge.

Jeonghan grabs you by your neck and kisses you deeply, thrusting deeper into you until you can no longer keep your composure. He loves watching you lose control, surrendering your body to him and screaming his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear. His lips are slightly parted, whispering sweet things in your ear, praising you for taking him so well and rewarding you with filling you up with his cum. You look every bit fucked out and heavenly to him, and he wishes he could stay buried inside of you forever. What he feels for you is risky, and if it were someone else, he would turn those feelings off. But with you and the way you are taking him so well, he is completely into you.

He helps you ride out your high, kissing you from your lips to your collarbone until you are overripe with sensitivity. Slowly lifting you, he lays you gently on his right, allowing you to catch your breath.

“I-I don’t think I have ever been fucked like that before,” you confess in between breaths. “Are you sure you’re not the god of love?”

Jeonghan chuckles, putting on a robe and heading towards the bathroom. Looking at himself in the mirror, he notices a few scratches you left, noticeable dig marks from your nails that dug into his skin. He shrugs them off, knowing that the next day, they will disappear, and it will be like they were never there. He’s been on this Earth for a long time and has slept his way through all the women and men he desired, but this night with you has topped all of them. He feels a connection with you mentally and spiritually, and after feeling you for the first time, he is determined to keep you by his side. By all means.

Your eyes are heavy with exhaustion, the day’s events catching up to you as your body acclimates with the sheets. You hear soft water running from the bathroom, and a few seconds later, Jeonghan appears in front of the door, his robe removed and naked. You glance at him and smirk, slowly getting out of bed and walking towards him. He is a divine enigma indeed.

“Don’t worry, darling,” he assures you. “It’ll be a nice, relaxing bath.”

His bathroom was definitely tailored to his taste. It had white and forest green marble floors, a shower stall big enough for more than three people centered in the middle, and two vanity sinks placed on opposite ends of each other. The tub was round and spacious, placed by the circular window that allowed you to see the stars at night. You slowly step into the foaming water, the sweet aroma of vanilla and bergamots filling your senses and pleasing your soul. Jeonghan comes in behind you, the water slightly splooshing around as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close. You relax on his chest, feeling at peace as you stare outside the window. It feels so natural, feeling this comfortable around him.

Your dreams of him show that you two had a successful relationship. You were partners in everything. He was good at communicating, and you knew how to support him and could persuade anyone if needed. You understood your roles, and you were perfect. So why do they always end with you walking away?

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Jeonghan’s voice breaks through your reverie.

He unwraps his arms around you, places his hands on your shoulders, and gives you a comforting massage. You close your eyes, letting the steam from the warm water relax your muscles.

“Heading back home,” you sigh heavily. “I have some go-sees to book and also continue my research. I have to put these looks and my big brain to use.”

“Yeah, no, you’re not,” Jeonghan declares smoothly. “I want you to stay here and work for me. Become my new muse.”

He watches you react closely, his eyes shining with mischief. “Just think about it. You would be my inspiration, my spark. Imagine the kind of magic we would create together.”

He catches you off guard but excites you nevertheless. Jeonghan wants to make you the face of his brand. You would be crazy to turn that down. Plus, it makes you so much closer to your research and figuring out your dreams. This was the universe giving you a sign.

“Yeah,” you say after thinking it over. “I would be open to that.”

You sink further into his chest, your tiredness getting the best of you, and falling into a slumber in the warm water. Jeonghan leaves light kisses on your shoulder, watching you sleep peacefully in his arms. He could go for another glass of wine, a perfect way to top off his night with you. He knows getting entangled with his ex-lover’s doppelganger is risky business, and eventually, he will have to deal with the truth of things. But tonight is not the night to open Pandora’s box and bring up the ancient feelings and heartache that he’s put behind. Instead, he will lay here with you, enjoying the sereneness while it lasts.

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doumadono · 26 days ago

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A toast to the past - Dabi x Reader

Warnings: a lot of sadness, grieving

Synopsis: some bonds and moments never truly die, no matter how much time passes. This is what you've learned not only from the League of Villains, but mostly from Dabi himself

A/N: as we say goodbye to 2024, I want to take a moment to wish you all a very Happy New Year, filled with good health and an abundance of positive energy. A huge thank you to everyone who has taken the time to visit my blog, read my stories, or offer the support - your kindness means the world to me. I’m looking forward to welcoming the new year and sharing even more with all of you. Here's to more adventures together in 2025!

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The icy wind gnawed at the edges of the dilapidated bar, rattling loose boards and curling under the gap at the door. The League of Villains’ ramshackle hideout wasn’t exactly the place one might expect to find themselves celebrating. It wasn’t often the League found a reason to celebrate, but tonight was an exception. New Year’s Eve was as good a reason as any to drag out the stolen liquor, laugh a little too loudly, and forget - if only for a few hours - about the vain world of heroes that loomed outside.

Yet, the hideout was alive with chaos.

Spinner had begrudgingly joined Twice and Toga in their frantic attempts to decorate, though the results were predictably awful - streamers dangled half-heartedly from the ceiling, and a mismatched assortment of paper lanterns cast flickering light across the room.

Mr. Compress sipped his drink, attempting to draw Giran into the conversation.

Shigaraki, for once, seemed to tolerate the festive atmosphere, though he sat hunched in his chair, lazily swirling a glass of a cheap champagne, scratching idly at his neck and glaring at anyone who came too close, his Switch laying on his lap.

Kurogiri had been busy behind the scenes, thoughtfully preparing colorful drinks for everyone. He made sure to mix several non-alcoholic ones, particularly for Toga, knowing she would enjoy them without the risk of getting drunk. He'd always kept an eye on her, knowing well that she could easily lose control if left unchecked, just like Tomura. At the same time, he carefully prepared extra shots for Shigaraki, who had openly mentioned earlier that he wanted to get wasted to dull the unbearable itching sensation crawling beneath his skin. Kurogiri had always been attentive, and tonight, he was doing what he could to ease the discomfort of his comrades, in his own quiet, efficient way.

And then there was Dabi.

The black-haired man, as usual, lingered on the outskirts of the noise, a silent observer. He stood by the window, cigarette in hand, eyes half-lidded as the faint orange glow reflected off the sharp planes of his face. The scarred corners of his lips twitched occasionally as he watched the others, though whether in amusement or annoyance, it was hard to tell.

It was a strange thing, this party. A group like yours wasn’t exactly built for celebrations. You were all too fractured, too worn by the world to embrace something as frivolous as joy. And yet, here you all were, crammed into this shabby room with mismatched streamers hanging crookedly from the ceiling.

"Five minutes to midnight!" Toga announced, clapping her hands together with a giddy grin. She darted to Twice, who was balancing a precarious tower of plastic cups, and immediately knocked it over in her excitement.

"You little menace!" Twice cried, his tone swinging wildly between indignant and adoring.

It was impossible not to laugh. Even Shigaraki's lips twitched in the ghost of a smirk before he buried his face back in his hands.

You glanced at Dabi, who hadn't moved from his spot by the window. Smoke curled lazily around his head, his expression unreadable. Something about his stillness drew you in like gravity, and before you realized it, you were walking toward him.

"You're missing the party," you teased, stopping just short of leaning against the same wall.

He exhaled slowly, his gaze flicking to you. "Looks like I'm not the only one."

"Fair," you admitted with a small smile. “But you’re really going to sulk through New Year’s?” You leaned your hip against the wall, tilting your head as you studied him.

“Sulking implies I care,” Dabi shot back, but the retort lacked its usual venom.

The countdown began, Toga’s voice leading the charge. “Ten! Nine!”

As the countdown began, the League’s mismatched voices filled the air, a cacophony of excitement and half-hearted participation.

Dabi didn’t move. He didn’t turn to the others, didn’t even glance at the clock. His gaze remained on you, sharp and heavy.

“Eight! Seven!”

“You’re staring,” you said softly, though your tone lacked any real accusation.

His lips twitched into something that might have been a smirk. “So are you.”

“Six! Five!”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as he took a step closer. He stopped just a breath away, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him despite the chill that crept through the cracks in the walls. His hand came up to cup your cheek, rough fingers brushing against your skin with a surprising gentleness that made your breath hitch.

“Four! Three!”

The noise around you faded into nothing, the room dissolving into a blur as his thumb traced along your lower lip.

“Two! One! Happy New Year!”

The room erupted into cheers, Toga’s high-pitched squeal cutting through the din as the others toasted and clapped, but none of it reached you.

Dabi leaned in, his lips crashed against yours. It wasn’t soft or tentative - he wasn’t the kind of man for that. Dabi’s lips were firm, his touch possessive, the kiss rough and consuming. The heat of him, the faint taste of smoke on his lips, made your knees weak, and you clung to him as though letting go wasn’t an option.

The world seemed to pause, time itself holding its breath as the moment stretched.

Dabi pulled back, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. His breath ghosted over your lips as he muttered, “Happy New Year, doll.”

Before you could respond, Toga’s delighted giggles shattered the moment. “Dabi kissed Y/N! I knew he would!” she crowed, clapping her hands in glee.

Twice let out a loud, exaggerated whistle. “Didn’t see that coming. Well, maybe I did. No, I definitely didn’t!”

Even Shigaraki seemed momentarily stunned, though he quickly muttered something about idiots and looked away.

Spinner groaned, muttering something about how he couldn’t believe he was spending his New Year with these people.

Compress raised a toast to the unexpected romance, and Twice fumbled with the camera app on his phone to snap a blurry picture.

But none of it mattered.

All that existed in that moment was the way Dabi looked at you as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

“Alright, show’s over,” the black-haired man groaned, shooting a pointed glare at Toga before grabbing your wrist and tugging you toward the door, leading you straight to his bedroom.

The night passed in a blur of heated whispers and shared warmth, his body a steady presence against yours as you made love for hours. The two of you stayed wrapped around each other long after the world outside went quiet. Dabi’s arm draped over your waist, his breath steady and warm against your shoulder. Neither of you spoke, content to exist in the stillness, in the rare, fragile peace of the moment.

The memory still lived in your heart, as vivid and searing as if it had happened yesterday. The hideout filled with laughter and chaos, Toga’s delighted clapping, Twice’s off-key singing, and the way Dabi’s lips pressed against yours at the stroke of midnight - it was a fleeting moment of happiness in a world that had given you so little.

But that was last year. That New Year’s Eve was the last you all spent together.

Everything changed after that night. The war came, tearing through your lives like a storm, leaving devastation in its wake. Too many lives were claimed, too many futures snuffed out. The League, the world, you - it all fractured, irreparably changed by the battles fought and the losses endured.

Now, you sat cross-legged in the grass, the late afternoon sun warm against your shoulders. A simple summer dress clung to your frame, and a gentle breeze whispered through the trees, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers. In your lap was a handmade bowl of soba, steam curling lazily into the air.

“I started a job last week,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “It’s nothing glamorous, just working in the back of a diner. Washing dishes, peeling vegetables, that sort of thing. It’s hard, y’know? People don’t exactly trust someone with a past like mine.” You picked at the soba with your chopsticks, twirling the noodles idly. “People stare. They always do. Even when they don’t recognize me, they can tell there’s something off, like they can smell the smoke that clings to me. I can’t blame them. It’s not like I’ll ever really blend in.” You laughed softly, though the sound was hollow. “It’s funny,” you continued, wiping your cheek where a tear had fallen unnoticed. “The normal life we used to joke about… it’s so much harder than I thought it’d be. People don’t smile much, not really. And some days, it’s like I’m invisible. Maybe it’s better that way.”

You held the bowl tighter, your knuckles white against the handmade ceramic. “I brought this for you,” you offered, shifting slightly to place the bowl in the grass. “You probably would’ve made some snarky comment about how it’s not your style, but I thought… I thought you might like it anyway.”

The words caught in your throat, and before you could stop them, the tears came - hot and relentless, spilling down your cheeks as though the dam you’d built over the past year had finally broken. You didn’t bother wiping them away. What was the point?

It took everything in you to get here. Reaching out to the Todoroki family - people you’d once thought of as enemies - had been harder than you could have imagined. But you needed to know where he was, where they’d laid him to rest. You couldn’t keep carrying the weight of his absence without a place to grieve.

The breeze shifted, and for a moment, it seemed to carry a faint, fleeting scent of fire - charcoal and smoke. It wrapped around you like an embrace, stirring the strands of your hair. It was fleeting, barely there, but it made you pause. Slowly, your lips curved into a small, trembling smile. “You’re listening, aren’t you?” you whispered, wiping at your face. “You always were good at pretending not to care.”

What you didn’t know - what you couldn’t know - was that he was sitting right there, just as you’d imagined. His spirit leaned against the gravestone, one knee drawn up, his chin resting lazily on it. He was watching you, his pale eyes filled with a mixture of longing and sorrow. He reached out, his fingers ghosting over your cheek, aching to wipe away your tears. But it was futile, of course. You were here, in the world of the living, and he was there, trapped in the world of the dead. Dabi whispered, “Stop crying, doll. You’ll ruin your pretty face.” But the words faded into the breeze, unheard and unspoken.

He watched you carefully: the way your hands trembled slightly as you set the bowl down, the way your lips quivered as you spoke his name, the way your tears reflected the light of the setting sun.

You couldn’t see the way his jaw clenched, the frustration in his eyes as his hand passed through you like mist. The space between your worlds was too vast, and all he could do was sit and observe.

You didn’t know he was there, couldn’t feel the weight of his gaze or the ghostly touch of his hand. “I miss you,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you rested a hand on the cold stone. “Every day, Touya.”

He closed his eyes, his head tilting back against the gravestone as if to steady himself. The scars on his face softened in the glow of the afternoon sun, and for a moment, he looked almost at peace. “I miss you too,” he whispered, though the words were meant only for himself.

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting long shadows across the cemetery. Your fingers brushed over the gravestone, tracing the letters carved into the cold stone: Touya Todoroki. The breeze swirled again, wrapping around you like an embrace. It felt warm, comforting, almost like him.

“I miss all of you. Toga, Tomura… even Twice and his constant grumbling.” You laughed weakly, but the sound was hollow. “The world’s quieter now, but it doesn’t feel better. It feels empty.” And with that, you sobbed more. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, your voice trembling. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more. I’m sorry I couldn’t save any of you. I’m so fucking sorry…”

When you finally stood and brushed the grass from your dress, you glanced back at the tombstone one last time. “I’ll keep going,” you whispered, your voice shaky but resolute. “For you. For all of you. I promise. I promise I won’t let go. I’ll never forget you. And you guys will always live in my heart.”

He watched you turn to leave, his gaze lingering on you as if memorizing every detail - the way the sunlight caught the strands of your hair, the way your shoulders straightened even under the weight of your grief, and a faint smile crossed his lips as his scarred hand rested on the top of the tombstone. “We all know that, doll,” he murmured, his voice soft and low. “Live the life we weren’t destined to have. And don’t forget - I’ll love you forever.”

As the wind swept through the graveyard once more, Dabi’s spirit winnowed like mist under the light of a chilly morning, fading into the air that surrounded you. And a promise, carried on the breeze, was as eternal as the love he left behind.

tagging: @pixelcafe-network

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jksprincess10 · 6 months ago

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I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife || Marcus Acacius x reader x Emperor Geta

Summary: Emperor Geta surprises you, his paramour, with General Acacius, and he's not very happy about it.

CW: Love confessions, dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, feelings, unprotected p in v, cucking, exhibitionism, voyeurism, violence, threats, knives, creampies, faking orgasms, name calling (whore), pet names (lamb, dove), oral (f and m receiving), crying kink, spitting, angst.

*there will most likely be more parts

(2.8k wordS)

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Falling in love made you reckless.

General Acacius stood behind your door, and you ushered him in, looking around and making sure you were truly alone. You would usually meet elsewhere, far from the roman palace, but you could no longer wait. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and you brought him down to your lips. Slowly, he moved away to scan your face. His brows were furrowed, his eyes, searching for your emotions with worry.

“Are you well?” His voice was raspy, tired from ordering around his soldiers.

“I needed to see you, to talk to you.”

“It seems to me that your intentions are elsewhere.” He chuckled and settled on your unmade bed, creating an indent where he was sitting. It is true that your room was mostly used for other activities.

You looked at his powerful legs, at how his white and gold embroidered tunic sat on his strong body.

“Marcus…” You sat beside him, even though you truly wanted to be on top of him. “I am not sure if we can keep this arrangement going without you knowing…” He turned towards you and took your hands in his, dwarfing yours. His palms were rough, callused by holding weapons and fighting. His silence encouraged you to speak. He was never the one to rush you or speak over you. “I love you, Marcus. I don’t think I can be our Emperor’s toy anymore. I want to leave with you. I beg for your mercy.”

“My dove…” One of his hand tugs on your jaw and you look up at his kind, brown eyes. “I wish I could promise you such a thing. But… I love you. And I feel so foolish.”

“Then, let us enjoy the time we have.” You tugged on him and kissed him feverishly. It was an uncoordinated dance, all teeth and tongues and no softness, due to the emergency lighting up the fires in your bodies. You laid down on your burgundy blanket, pulling him down with you. Your head rested against your gold embroidered pillow as you waited for his reaction when he pulled away from you.

Your body spoke his language, and he looked down at you with hungry eyes. He took off your linen toga and drank you in, the naked curves of your body hypnotizing.

“Temptress… it feels like you were sculpted by the Gods themselves.” Marcus whispers almost painfully after taking off your undergarments. He was a weak man.

Your felt your cheeks heating up, and you bit down on your lip. You tugged on his clothes, and he obliged, undressing completely for your viewing pleasure. His shoulders were large, his throat, inviting. The upper part of his chest was taut and strong, some of the tan skin scarred. His gut was softer, more typical of a man in his late 40s. He was no emperor, but you wanted to worship every inch of him.

“And you… are everything.” You breathed.

Marcus moved down your body, leaving kisses and licks here and there until his face settled between your thighs.

The heavy doors creaked, until they flew open. You gasped as you covered yourself with a part of the blanket, while Marcus, bare, turned around.

Standing against the now closed doors was the emperor himself. His eyes were wild and his lips, tight with anger.

“What do we have here? Are you bedding my paramour, General? Or do my eyes deceive me?” Geta’s tone was eerily calm compared to his expression. He sat in a wooden chair near your bed, upholstered with fine red silk. He looked regal with his toga picta in colors matching Marcus’s attire, and his golden laurel wreath at his brow.

You looked down at Marcus with a warning.

“I am the one who pursued him, my lord.” You lied effortlessly.

General Acacius’s eyes were closed, his fists, clenched.

“Is this the truth, General? How long has this affair been going on? Do not deceit me now.”

In his white hands, he played with a small knife like it was a toy and not a tool of violence.

“I am as responsible as she is, my lord. It has been happening for six months.”

“I am hurt, truly to see where your priorities lie. I thought you were different. But all men are weak in the face of beauty. And you... my dear.” His gaze seemed to pierce through you like the knife he held. “You are a whore.”

You bowed down your head, ashamed.

Geta seemed to think for a moment, the tip of his knife resting against his lip as he looked at you, and then at Marcus.

“So? Do not stop on my account. Entertain me. Marcus, if you pleasure her well, I will disregard this little incident. But if you’re as pathetic as you look right now in bed…” Rising, he moves closer, letting the blade of his knife rest against Marcus’s throat. The General stayed still. “I will gut both of you.”

“Yes, my lord.” Marcus swallowed difficultly against the blade. Satisfied, Geta smirked and pushed the chair closer to have a better view, before sitting down. The knife sat on his lap, a constant reminder of the danger.

General Acacius settled between your open thighs again, and this time, you felt truly exposed. Emperor Geta watched you like a hawk. You tried to relax your body against the pillows, you closed your eyes even though you felt observed, and you concentrated on the sensations. Marcus licked through your folds, tentatively, softly. Your fingers tangled in his greying curls to soothe him, and it did; his shoulders relaxing under your thighs. He licked from your hole to your clit, concentrating the tip of his tongue there, putting pressure, before lapping energetically.

“She usually moans when I do this to her.” Geta commented and shrugged. “Give her more, General.”

Marcus’ lips latched onto your clit, alternating between licking and sucking as you let out shy moans. You were weary of being watched and judged on your performance.

“Give. Her. More. General.” Geta repeated in a clipped tone. “Treat her like the whore she is.”

Without waiting, two of Marcus’ digits entered your hole, crossing the path of pleasure and pain. You wailed and moved a bit in discomfort. The Emperor, who did not know the difference smiled in satisfaction.

Your lover’s lips left your bundle of nerves to kiss your thigh in apology. You grabbed onto his curls again and brought him back to your core, pleading for him to make you come even though your mind was entirely elsewhere.

His big hazel eyes looked up at you in worry as he sucked on your clit, his fingers moving slowly.

“I will be fine.” You mouthed to him.

He made a come-hitter motion with his digits as he pulled them almost all the way out, then in. His tongue still worked on your core. You tried to detach yourself from the situation, but maybe, just this once, you could pretend to orgasm. You gave your best performance, moaning and shaking under his ministrations.

Marcus’ inquisitive eyes could see through your lies. If this was truly the last time, he wanted it to be real. But he had little control over this situation.

“Let us see if you can do better with your cock, General. Or else I might have to take over.” Geta threatened as he looked at him with a terrifying smile.

Marcus hid his jealousy well. The emperor got on his feet and hovered near the bed as he watched Acacius guiding the tip of his cock through your folds. His movements were stiff, uncertain.

“Take me like he is not here.” You whispered in the shell of his ear, before biting down on his lobe to encourage him. Marcus grunted, in pleasure and in frustration as he filled you up inch by inch. He was big, and you would usually need more time to be able to take him properly, but time was not on your side anymore.

Geta sat back down and watched, a predatory glint in his eye. His traitorous body dared to be aroused in the face of your pleasure, a tent forming in his robes. His hand tightened on his knife as he resisted to touch himself, his ego bruised.

When Marcus’ hips were flush with yours, he stopped for a few seconds, letting you adjust to him. You nodded to spur him on. His rough hands held your thighs open for him as he started moving slowly, but powerfully. His lips explored your arched torso, licking the fat of a breast, taking a hardened nipple in the warmth of his mouth to nip and suck at it. He still wanted the experience to be enjoyable for you.

Geta mimicked a yawn, and Marcus looked at him with angry eyes and tight lips. At this time, Marcus wanted to kill him. Even if he was supposed to bow to his childish whims, he fantasized to see his head fall from his shoulders.

“Fuck her like you mean it, Marcus.”

The general manhandled you into a new position, facing away from him and your behind up in the air. You pushed your ass against him, begging for more.

“You seem to be enjoying it even though you refuse to admit it, my lord.” Marcus responded as he looked down at Geta’s lap in disgust.

Emperor Geta’s cheeks reddened and for once, he was silent. Your lover guided his cock through your folds and filled you to the hilt. This new position let you focus on your pleasure. Marcus snapped his hips fast and hard, making you gasp as he hit the deepest parts of you.

“Touch yourself, dove.” He whispered in your ear as he bent over your back to get a look at your face.

“Y-yes.” Your fingers came down your body to circle your clit as Marcus kept fucking you roughly. You liked the beast hiding inside of him, the warrior with a bruised ego who wanted to prove himself. You could hear his groans; you could feel how he was still holding back until both you and the Emperor were satisfied.

Geta was up again, dangerously close, knife still in view. He pulled on the strands of your hair to make you look up at him, your expression contorted with true pleasure, your mouth hanging open and your eyes glazed over.

“That’s it. Beautiful.” The Emperor’s eyes were heavy with lust.

For once, he seemed satisfied.

“Open your traitorous mouth.” He ordered and you did, while Marcus hit your g-spot again and again, and while your clumsily caressed yourself. Geta’s spit landed in your mouth.

“Swallow. There it is. Good girl. Now you remember who you belong too.” He caressed your cheek with the back of the blade, and Marcus slowed, conscious of the weapon on your cheek.

The knife grazed your skin, leaving drops of crimson in its wake. But thankfully, that was the only injury. The knife was pulled away, and instead, Geta’s dry lips were on yours. His tongue swallowed your moans as Marcus hips snapped violently against your ass, sending waves of pleasure through you. You were only an instrument to their pleasure, a means to an end.

Geta’s lips left yours, but his gaze never truly left them.

“You may finish now.”

Your movements faltered as you gushed around Marcus’ cock. You hated how the presence of the two men now made you even wetter. But you were encouraged by lust and hate. Marcus’ seed filled you up as he groaned one last time, with a final snap of his hips.

“I still think your performance needs… improvement. And I am not done punishing you, General. So please, sit back and watch.” Geta said as he motioned for Marcus to move away from the bed. You heard a soft apology from your lover, you felt a kiss in your sweaty hair. And the General obeyed, sitting on the chair the Emperor had used earlier to watch them. His knuckles were white from holding on the chair too tightly.

Geta’s picta fell to the floor, and you felt like the fabric, your body discarded on the bed without love and care. Geta’s hands, soft like a man’s who hadn’t worked in a day, turned you around and pushed you to the floor. You scrambled to your knees in front of the bed, where he had sat bare for you, his red, leaking cock presented to your mouth like a present.

“Suck. Now.” Your hand wrapped around the base, and you obediently pulled his length into your mouth. He wasn’t as difficult as Marcus to take, but still you wanted to imagine it was your lover instead. You sucked from the base up, licking his tip, tasting the salt and the soap on his skin. You dared a glance at Marcus. He watched, but he seemed elsewhere, dissociating.

“Does she please you like this, General?” The Emperor asked mockingly as he grabbed on to the back of your head, pushing himself deeper as you gagged.

“Only when she wants it. I would never force her hand. I am no monster, I am merciful.” Marcus responded in a clipped, dangerous tone as he came back to reality.

“Truly? I would have expected more from a man who is a monster on the battlefield. A man who can take on three easily.”

You swallowed around Geta and tried to please him as much as you could, sucking, hollowing your cheeks how he liked. And finally, that reduced him to silence, only letting out moans. You didn’t dare looking back at your lover. You were still scared for your life.

The Emperor grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you off him as you looked up at him with eyes wet with worry.

“You know where I want to plant my seed, little lamb.” He snarled, and sat back on your pillows, a cocky grin on his lips as he stared at the General. “Look at him while you ride my cock.” He ordered as you scrambled to your feet. You positioned yourself on his lap, and he wrapped his arm around your breasts, keeping you near him.

Since the Emperor could not see your expression, you let your tears roam free. Acacius kept still, Geta could not see the empathy in his eyes. He would destroy them.

Aided by your wetness and Marcus’ spend, Geta entered your walls easily. He held you still as thrusted up roughly, and you felt the dig of his teeth in your shoulder, that would surely leave a mark. When he went to bite your cheek, he felt the saltiness of your tears on his tongue. He turned your head at an impossible angle that strained your neck and licked your cheeks clean. You hid your disgust.

“Don’t cry, little lamb. It only makes me want to fuck you even harder.”

“I apologize, my lord.” It came out as a whine when he started fucking up into you roughly.

“I want you to come on my cock while he watches.” It was no suggestion, but an order, that he snarled as he looked at his struggling General. You nodded and used the pads of two of your fingers to draw tight circles on your clit. With one of his hands, Geta kept your head turned to Marcus, so you could look at him while you touched yourself and with a twist of shame, you let yourself find your pleasure, gushing around Geta’s cock.

Geta kept fucking you through your orgasm, his rhythm faltering when he also came, filling you with his seed.

“Good job, my sweet lamb. You did so well for your Emperor.” Geta praised as he pushed you off him, and you landed on your stomach, hiding your face in your soft blankets. You vaguely felt fingers going through your slit, which made you yelp weakly from how swollen your cunt was.

“I can admit she tastes delicious with both of our seeds, General.” Geta said as he got off the bed, licking his fingers clean. “Now now, you have entertained me enough, and I will spare you. For now.”

The Emperor left, leaving the ornate doors open behind him. Marcus put his clothes back on, and you felt his calloused hand on your lower back. You were so desperate for his touch, for his arms holding you as you wept.

“I will send a servant to prepare a warm bath for you. I apologize, but I cannot afford to stay. For your safety.”

You didn’t even look at him, only when he left, you lifted your head you could see how he had taken his usual posture, back straight and proud. You implored the Gods silently to put him on your path again.

#gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator 2 fic #gladiator ii fic #emperor geta x you #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta x yn #emperor geta x y/n #marcus acacius #emperor geta #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius smut #emperor geta smut #marcus acacius x yn #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x y/n #geta x reader x marcus #marcus x reader x geta #gladiator ii smut

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gluion · 7 months ago

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safe haven (how much longer do we have?) ➵ leehan

leehan x reader, slight sungho x reader

you can only hope for more tomorrows with leehan.

genre/warnings ➵ strangers to lovers, heavy angst with a happy ending, touch of fluff, gender-neutral reader, reader is shorter than leehan and sungho, lowercase intended, apocalypse au, hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), depictions of grief, descriptions of gore/blood, use of guns, allusions and discussions of suicide, minor character deaths, sungho is your ex, myungjae and taesan appearance :’), elements of the last of us (don’t support neil druckmann!), mostly written in past tense (because u’re remembering!)

word count ➵ 6.2k words

inspired by ➵ “anaheim” by niki, “are you happy?” by wavesmp3, “love wins all” by iu, episode three of hbo’s the last of us, and “you’re gonna carry that weight” quote from cowboy bebop

a/n ➵ i really love this piece with everything in me so i thought i'd release it to bonedoblr as well!! you can check out the jacob & taerae versions as well. if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

time was the one thing that occupied everyone’s minds. it held value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and people revolved their lives around it.

questions flew around with every tick and tock—what day is it today? when’s your next doctor’s appointment? how long has it been since you’ve last seen your friends from high school? until when does this meeting last?

as the hands of the clock continue to rotate, the calendar pages would flip along. birthdays were celebrated with every revolution as candles on cakes were lit up, awaiting the puff of celebrants as they wished for their desires. holidays were ones to look forward to; people dressed up to celebrate periods of the year that mattered to them while others slept in until noon. and days were spent counting down until graduations, where caps with tassels would fly to the expanse of blue and orange as cheers and sobs sound throughout.

but now, no one keeps track of time. clocks stopped moving and calendars weren’t produced annually. once the surge of the infected took over, grabbing on humans—taking them away from the lives they’ve lived—everyone ran like they were running out of time. with every second that passes, people are ridden with possibilities of how they might bid farewell to life itself—would it be through the hands of the infected or their own?

now, only one question echoes within their minds: how long do we have?

yet, the clock continues—tick, tock, tick, tock. it keeps going, and going, and going, like how everyone expects it. while everyone seemed to let time go, you still kept track of it all: birthdays, holidays, a graduation you never had.

the outbreak hit two years ago on the day of sungho’s graduation. cheers turned into screams. white togas and diplomas were splattered with red. the lively became lifeless.

you remember sungho’s hand in yours, fingers gripping you as if you were his life, as you charged out of the gymnasium, legs keeping up with the speed of his. you darted off to nowhere as images of the infected tearing people apart took up every block, all the way from skin to bone.

and while it was a rush of tragedies, sungho was the only hope you had.

“keep your eyes on me,” he glanced at you, “don’t look at them. only look at me.”

it was impossible to ignore the wails that filled your ears, but you would repeat his words—his soft-spoken voice—to drown them out.

by nightfall, you and sungho found yourselves in a motel room, skin cleaned from blood splatters and dressed in clothes that engulfed your figures, and in each other’s arms on a twin-sized bed. the duvet that wrapped around you two is thin, not at all keeping you warm for the night, but the warmth of sungho was enough to provide you a sense of security—stability amidst the ever-changing world.

he whispered into the crown of your head, words meant to dispel your fears, all while you sobbed into his shirt. there was nothing that he could do but stay strong for you.

and for a few days, that room acted as your safe haven. the time spent within those four walls is the life you imagined your future with sungho. it would’ve been in a two-story house with a garden where a singular orange tree stands, lounging on the couch as you played movies to fall asleep to, but all you had was an old room with a carpeted floor with unrecognizable stains and a bathroom unable to fit two.

yet, you would choose this over anything. even if it meant eating instant noodles for every meal or sleeping on a mattress that ruins your backs, you would choose this if it meant sungho would be with you.

still, time continues to move. sungho knew that you both couldn’t stay in that room or else the infected may reach you. so when you both went to bed on that last night, you outlined his features from the space between his eyebrows all the way to his lips, and you spent that time memorizing his warmth to carry with you for the rest of your life. you could only hope that he stays with you until the end.

after a month passed, you and sungho met jaehyun, an injured boy who only wanted to live. at first, sungho was hesitant to take the stranger in, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to live with the idea of abandoning someone in need. in a world where the infected have taken over, it only seemed right to help out others; save them from a fate they’re not ready to meet.

what started off as a pair turned into a trio. you’ve learned more about what it takes to survive in this life. long gone is the need for money to buy necessities; you need to scavenge for supplies if you want to live in an infected-ridden world. thanks to jaehyun, you and sungho got to learn about how to find them in every building that you pass on the journey.

but it’s not enough to know where to find food and bullets. sungho decided that it was only right to teach you how to use a gun. with every morning that came, you two spent hours learning how to hold, reload, and fire.

“don’t worry,” he told you as his chin hovered over your shoulder. you both stared at the tin can situated on a stack of boxes only a few meters away. “you won’t have to worry about fighting alone. i’ll be here with you.” as you exhaled, your eyes zeroed in on the target. “now, shoot.”

six months have passed, and you were happy that you were still a trio. jaehyun became your best friend over that time. his laughs were enough to shine glimmers of hope onto you. you were glad that you decided to help him off the ground and tend to his bullet wound that day.

until you found yourselves retreating from the horde of infected.

time moves at a constant speed but it can become swift if it decides to. when you and jaehyun reached the doors leading to safety, you remember seeing sungho fighting off those who were once like you, bullets firing at their heads. you remember your screams, telling him to run to you—go to where it’s safe—so that you can keep having tomorrows with him.

yet, sungho glanced at jaehyun, nodding at him before his eyes met yours. you watched how his mouth moved, a soundless three-word phrase leaving him before the doors shut before you. you would’ve pried them open but jaehyun kept his arms around you, holding you back. from letting the infected reach you. from letting sungho come back to you.

the wails that left you were enough to attract the infected. if only they were to burst through the doors, grab onto you and bring you to sungho, then maybe you would stop crying. yet, jaehyun dragged you away. you never saw him as your best friend after that.

a month passed, and you still refused to talk to him. the boy tried to strike up a conversation with you, trying to earn your laugh like he used to, but he was only met with a cold shoulder. with every brick he put, you smashed your sledgehammer against it, dispelling any hope he had in rekindling his friendship with you.

the two of you learned to live in silence, fighting for survival while dealing with the loss of the one who would always bring you both to safety.

until you came across another boy who pointed his gun toward you. his defensive demeanor reminded you of sungho, and you wondered if this was his doing—his reincarnation. but before he could pull the trigger, jaehyun saved you from meeting your fate.

somehow, the duo had turned into a trio once more. you still refused to talk to jaehyun but would eavesdrop on the conversations he shared with the stranger. you learned that the new addition is named leehan.

but even the stranger wasn’t enough to fill the void that sungho left. with every nightfall, when the soft snores of the two boys filled your ears, tears streamed down your face as sobs threatened to spill out. the palm of your hand wasn’t enough to muffle your weeps. behind your eyelids, sungho’s last words to you play on repeat. the ones he failed to say. the ones you’ll never hear again.

maybe if you didn’t leave that motel room then he would’ve still been with you, arms finding their place around your waist as he trails kisses all over you. if the outbreak didn’t happen, then maybe you would be living in that two-story house with him. maybe you would wake up to a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice by the bedside table and the warmth of his lips on your forehead. and maybe you could finally tell him yes before he slips the silver band on your finger—you could’ve grown with him until your hair turns grey.

the weight you carry never got lighter with time. the void continued to consume you whole with the goal of ripping you apart. as another month passed, another life was lost—not to the infected but to the raiders.

“myungjae, you have to stay with me.” those were the first words you told him since sungho’s death. crimson continued to spill out of his abdomen through the gaps between your fingertips in the same way tears flow out. “leehan! find gauze, betadine, anything!” you never glanced at the stranger, keeping your gaze on your best friend whose eyes continued to droop.

still, jaehyun caressed your face, thumb wiping teardrops. as he slowly entered territories that you both knew he would never escape, he grinned at you one last time. “i missed hearing you. i’m glad you’ll be the last thing i hear.”

but you tried to tell him that you couldn’t be the last voice he heard. it should’ve been with someone he can imagine his future with, maybe in a two-story house or a cramped flat in an apartment complex. he deserves more tomorrows in the same way sungho did.

but time continues to move. it took him away from you in a matter of minutes, slithering away without a second thought and no regard for the value of life, and all you were left with was his temple—still. lifeless. as you sobbed into his shirt, still holding the wound, the warmth of leehan’s hand stayed on your back, moving along with your wails.

now, you carry the loss of two. it never got easier with time.

leehan still sticks with you. it only seemed right. stay strong in numbers as you wander off to nowhere, grasping at the loose ends of survival.

two weeks have passed. you and leehan got used to the new dynamic; while he went hunting and you were tasked with scavenging, you both played your roles in combat, ready for any raid or horde. when night comes, you both took shifts, keeping watch while the other got some shut-eye.

until that one evening.

you recall the sounds of wood crackling from the fire. it stood strong against the breeze—burning, shining—surrounded by greens that latch on browns. hues of amber cascaded over your skin, painting you with warmth—it’ll never compare to the one you craved. your eyes drifted to leehan who sat across from you, his eyes trained on the fire as he rubbed his palms together. perhaps he craved the same type of warmth you longed for.

“we used to be three.” his eyes snapped towards yours. “before you came, we used to be three—jaehyun, me, and—” it rose in you like bile, wanting to escape but never leaving. “we were three then.”

you glanced at the wood that continued to burn. “we met jaehyun a month after the outbreak, spent six months together until—” the claws of the void struck against your throat, holding you back from sharing with the stranger what your life was before he came. while you never found the right words to say, leehan never pushed, letting you say what you wanted to share while filling in the blanks on his own.

“i resented jaehyun after what happened.” you moved your gaze to leehan whose eyes never left you. “refused to talk to him. refused to forgive.” and you remember how you hesitated, taking a deep breath in before sputtering out the next sentence. “refused to accept.”

nine months ago, the outbreak didn’t happen. nine months ago, you were attending sungho’s graduation. nine months ago, you two were imagining your tomorrows together—for eternity.

and those nine months fractured all hopes and dreams; the glass is now littered with cracks, ready to burst into shards.

“but i think about the last time we saw jaehyun,” the image of him sitting in front of you all frail, treading the line between life and death, flashed in front of you; it’s quick but strong to remind you of what’s lost. “and i wish i could’ve learned how to forgive during those two months.”

but it was an impossible request. how could you ever forgive a boy you’ve known for only six months for taking your future away? how could you forgive a world that took him away? how could you forgive and live?

and still, you did.

you left it at that. they were enough. so when you told leehan that you’ll take over tonight’s shift, he never asked to hear more. instead, he laid near the campfire as you kept an eye out.

and once enough hours have passed, you allowed yourself to sob like other nights. the breeze that passed through branches reminded you of jaehyun; rustling leaves imitated the giggles of the boy you’ve only known during the apocalypse.

the wind that grazed against your skin should’ve been a nuisance, but the warmth of the fire wrapped you up like the duvet in that motel room. and you don’t complain—it’s the only part of sungho you have left.

the heat was enough to last you the night, but the chill of reality sent you back to the void.

that night, leehan listened to your sobs. not one of you got enough rest for the journey.

another two weeks went by. you two got into a better groove of the routine; instead of hunting and scavenging in silence, you and leehan found yourselves talking more about your lives before the outbreak. you learned that he’s only a year younger than sungho, and he shared that he had plans to pursue music.

“if the world finds a cure to this mess, you have to promise me that you’ll get me front-row tickets to your first show.” it was a joke. in what world could there be a cure for the infected? but the wishful thinking of what could be—what could’ve been—is all you had left.

still, leehan promised you that.

that night, you two stayed in the living room of an abandoned house. instead of lighting the fireplace, candles were placed on the coffee table. they shined in the middle of you two, you who stayed on the couch and leehan who sat on the mattress lying on the floor.

“where were you?” his eyes met yours. “on the day of the outbreak, i mean.”

he leaned back, hands resting on the mattress before he looked once more at the wax that continued to melt. “i was there for my upperclassmen’s graduation.” it hit you like sudden downpour on a sunny day. “i knew people in the music program and we were going to celebrate after. until the infected came.”

and when you said the name of the university, his gaze met yours as his shoulders stiffened. “m—my sungho.” it’s the first time you spoke of his name, and the sight of leehan’s eyes widening over it was enough to speak for himself.

“i—i didn’t know,” he whispered, but his words were loud enough to shatter glass. “i only spoke to him a few times. he talked about you with so much love.”

your heart skipped beats; it should’ve been enough to send you off into the same territories where sungho and jaehyun now stay. your mouth turned dry as leehan’s voice morphed into radio silence.

before you knew it, the two of you left the information to hang in the air as you tried to drift into slumber.

the clock continues to tick. minutes turned into hours; time moves like it usually does once more.

yet, you were stuck in the same gymnasium, fixing sungho’s toga as you scolded him about how wrinkled it’s become—hey! you’ll go up on stage soon. we can’t take pictures of you like this. despite your words, he smiled at you before grazing his lips on your temple—his silent way of telling you the three-word phrase.

in a split second, you were off the couch. you barged out of the house, clutching your chest as the knot constricted your throat, and your feet dragged you off to nowhere. every sound has turned into a buzz—only the voice of sungho being the one clear thing amidst the hysteria.

before you knew it, you stood before a horizon of green. it takes only one step into the woods, alone with no protection, for you to meet your demise. you would’ve charged into it in the same way you would’ve charged out to save sungho that day.

all it takes is one step, and—

“what are you doing?!” a pair of hands gripped your shoulders, spinning you around until you were face-to-face with the last form of life that you know of. his breaths were short as his fingers dug into your arms. “you can’t just rush out in the middle of the night! i woke up worried sick.” his eyebrows knitted in frustration. confusion. distress. the voice was caught in your throat.

how does one begin to unpack the baggage they’ve learned to carry? when the items they bring are revolting, rotten, repugnant, how does someone not feel shame about showing all the tattered-up objects?

how do you learn to open up to someone you’ve only known for three months?

your hands trembled; you’ve carried the weight of it all for too long.

in that split second, your nose met the juncture between his chin and shoulder. the material of his shirt against your cheek allowed you to bathe in what you miss—the hand of jaehyun that once caressed your face. the lips of sungho that lingered with every kiss. all the moments that you hoped time would freeze just for you lives in the boy you stick with for survival.

all it took were leehan’s hands to rest on the lower side of your back for the tears to begin their stream. the sobs spill out. for once, they weren’t muffled like those other nights. they sounded throughout the space that surrounded you two. you allowed yourself to drop the baggage only for a few minutes.

leehan took you back to the house that night, allowing you to sob about all that you’ve kept under the wraps.

when sunrise came, you found your legs mixed with his as his arms remained wrapped around you and your ear pressed against his chest. the sound of his breathing is the one reminder of what a safe haven is.

half a year went by. leehan still stays by your side. the baggage got lighter.

it should’ve been the same routine; leehan goes off to hunt while you scavenge, and you’ll take turns on the night shifts. but that night shifted something between you two. stolen glances. quiet giggles. linked fingers.

two months have gone by. the moon shined through the trees, their shadows cascading on an abandoned cabin that you and leehan decided to stay in for that night.

it should’ve been the same set-up as other nights spent in abandoned houses; you’ll sleep on the couch while he sleeps on a dragged-out mattress. instead, he sat with you, your back resting on his chest along with his hand staying on your arm.

a lit candle rested on the table; its amber tones painted leehan’s skin—close to the fruit tree that stands in your lost future.

“what would you do if there is a cure to this?” you watched how his fingers danced across your skin, calloused from plucking guitar strings or wielding a gun.

leehan’s chest rumbled against your back as he hummed. “what would you do?”

a giggle left as you looked at the boy. “i was the one who asked you first!”

he shot you a grin as his hand slipped into yours. the candle continued to burn; it did a poor job of giving you light and warmth that night. but he did it all—one smile. one exhale. one indication to show that he lives.

“travel, maybe? or i’ll go back to writing music.” you nodded at his plans before looking back at the light source. “what about you?”

“i don’t know.”

there was no point in going back to university after such a catastrophe. if anything, the year spent surrounded by the infected, fighting for survival, has shown you that there’s more to life than the perpetual cycle of working a nine-to-five.

so…

“i would settle down if i could.” the wax continued to melt. “i think i’ve seen enough of the world. for once, i just want to stay home. indulge in my hobbies. live the life that i want.”

his breath grazed the top of your head. “with someone?” and suddenly, you became aware of it all—the heat that emitted from his palm. the movement of his chest against your back. the gravity of his question.

the words get caught in your throat. your heartbeat rang in your ears. for the first time since sungho’s death, you considered it.

“with someone.”

before you knew it, his hand caressed your cheek. you were forced to meet his eyes which glistened with devotion. he leaned forward, his breath grazing your skin while you held in yours. you didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to your lips before he met your eyes once more.

then, he held back. it’s a choice, one only you can make. but when your eyes shut, it’s a quiet plea—a silent yes.

his lips met yours.

the warmth that blossomed in your chest wasn’t like the one in that motel room. not like the embrace of the one you’ve lost. it was one of all seasons—changing with the weather, bringing comfort throughout the everchanging times.

it’s a perpetual cycle of fighting for survival.

you’ll endure through it all.

a month passed by, and you came across another boy on the journey. he’s named taesan, and he told you of a safe haven located in the town that you and leehan grew up in.

for a moment, it was an internal debate—should you go back to where the downfall started? can you go to where the memory of sungho still lives?

but one glance at leehan was enough to settle it. the three of you embarked on your journey.

you remember that day. it was a walk with the goal of finding a car to make the journey back an easy one. the heat of the sun prickled against your skin but you still kept your arms crossed.

“are you two together?” taesan asked, causing you to whip your head towards him. your eyes met leehan’s for a split second—confusion. dejection—before they landed back at the stranger who kept his eyes on the path you took.

“no, we aren’t.”

for the rest of the journey, it was quiet.

sundown came, and you found yourselves in a convenience store for that night’s shelter. leehan was in charge of taking the night shift, allowing you and taesan to rest up. when the stranger went off to sleep on the makeshift bed, you were left alone with leehan.

you watched how he cleaned his gun with a rag stained with dark splotches. the moon gleamed through the window—it can’t compare to how leehan shines.

you needed to get some sleep, is what you tell yourself. with one spin, you were about to make your way to where you’d sleep for that night.

“are we really not?” you halted in your tracks. “did it mean nothing?”

not a single answer left your mouth. your eyes remained straightforward as you refused to meet his gaze.

the warmth vanished with a lack of an answer. instead, it was replaced once more with the cold—the void—that attempted to consume you whole.

and when a scornful chuckle left leehan, you knew that you’d burnt the bridge. you walked away, leaving him to do his job, bidding farewell to the closest form of a safe haven.

two weeks went by and another goodbye had to be done. taesan stood in front of you two, a grin on his lips while tears streamed down his face. his arm was out, revealing a bite mark. the veins near the wound had already turned black. he would’ve turned in a few hours.

“go out.” those were leehan’s first words to you since that night in the convenience store.

you remember the last thing you told taesan before you left the room—you’ll get to your safe haven. the sobs that spilled out of him are ones you’ll never forget. and when you shut the door behind you, it took 20 seconds until you heard a gunshot.

the weight got heavier once more.

another two weeks went by, and you and leehan found yourselves standing in front of the remains of a safe haven. the fences were torn down. streaks of dark red littered over pavements. not a single sight of a soul lived.

still, you two trudged your way through the town, all the way until you reached leehan’s house. like others, his was abandoned. the cream walls were littered with red strokes and vines. when you both entered, you didn’t miss how leehan’s eyes lingered on a photo hung on the wall—a picture of him and his parents.

you gave him all the time he needed to explore, to sit with the mess, while you stayed in the living room. as you sat on the couch that had gathered dust, you caught sight of a bowl of plastic produce that rested on the coffee table. it held a variety of fruits whose paint had chipped: watermelon, chestnut, and fig.

but amidst the crowd of old, torn-down, plastic fruits, a pear and an orange leaned against each other as grime collected on them. once your hands reached out to the fruits, you pulled them apart—a mess of green and orange stained the two.

he came back to you in 30 minutes, eyes glistening with tears. yet, he only gave you a nod, and you two went to another house.

you then stood in front of your old house with leehan by your side. weeds grew in the front yard, and the wooden exterior has turned a few shades darker. silence settled between you two.

to be back in a place you grew up in, where all your memories live, is a process—a grieving one. being face-to-face with the damage brought by the infected can only remind you of what you had and could’ve had.

and once you made your way to your childhood room, you were reminded of all your hopes and dreams before the outbreak. dust rested on top of books. the laptop on your desk had no charge. potted plants have withered.

when you approached the picture frames found on your table, your hand darted out to a photograph of you and sungho. there was no occasion when that picture was taken—the fact that you two were together was enough for it to be remembered. memorialized.

as you made your way back down the stairs, you saw leehan crouched in front of the console table with eyes trained on photographs. “was this your high school graduation?” you approached him and saw the picture he was referring to, you who stood beside sungho with a big grin as his lips were on your temple.

“yeah,” you said as you crouched beside leehan. “we knew each other back when i was a freshman.” your fingers trailed on the wooden frame, gathering the dust before flicking it away. despite your efforts, it was still covered in grime, but you didn’t mind.

“and you stayed together since?” all you did was hum. “did you find anything up there?”

for the first time since you entered your old house, you looked at leehan and he met your gaze. your eyes trailed his features. the eyes that speak of a thousand words. the lips that once kissed yours.

and it hit you like the gunshot that filled your ears, the breeze that rustled the leaves that one night, the doors that shut close. it was 20 months since the outbreak happened, 13 months since you lost sungho, and 11 months since jaehyun told you his last words.

but it was also 13 months spent with leehan, choosing to survive with him.

“yeah.”

you found a lot of things within those four walls. there were books you once read growing up, stuffed toys you slept with, and the one picture of you and sungho; they’re the remaining pieces you have left of a life that was good.

you would’ve kept it all, rebuilt the life that was ripped away by the hands of the infected—

“but nothing to hold on to.”

they’re memories, ones you’ll carry with you, but ones worth moving on from.

“oh,” he said as his eyes still held your gaze. “okay.”

and with one exhale, you said, “let’s rebuild it, just a place for us two.”

it was a whirlwind of emotions in leehan’s eyes, ones you can’t identify. for a moment, you thought he’d say no. maybe he decided that 13 months was enough. one more day with you would be too much, and—

“okay.” when his hand reached out for yours, linking fingers with you like all other times, you gave him a small smile.

when you and leehan stood up, you made your way out of the house, off to find a place just for you two—a safe haven to last you many tomorrows with him.

a month passed. the safe haven was rebuilt; the fences stood strong with electrical wires and barbed wires, and the town was cleaned of all remnants of grime and blood. the two of you took up different tasks ranging from cleaning, cooking, building, and maintaining the haven.

but while you were okay with a knife, accidents did happen. “fuck!”

“what happened?” you remember how leehan came rushing in, only to see you pressing on the skin around the cut on your finger.

before you knew it, you were sitting down with him as he wrapped gauze around the wound. “leehan, it’s just a cut. i’ll be fine.”

“still, i don’t want you getting hurt.” you watched how his eyes were focused on treating your finger. “i’ll be in charge of cooking now.”

you shook your head. “no, i like to cook. i want to cook for us.” his gaze then met yours, his filled with worry while yours filled with determination. they flickered back to your finger and his hands busied themselves with covering it up.

once he was done, his hand continued to hold yours. you remember the heat of his thumb as it drew patterns on your hand. he’s etched himself onto you.

his eyes met yours once more, and he said, “okay, just let me help out.” all you gave him was a nod.

another month went by, and you woke up to the sound of gunshots. you remember how hazy your vision was that night, fresh from sleep but panic coursing through your veins. and when you looked beside you to only see an empty spot, you didn’t think twice about rushing out of bed.

when you exited the house, you saw leehan holding his gun, firing at the people who attempted to tear down the haven’s fences. “leehan!” he looked back at you and you caught sight of the crimson that poured out of his abdomen.

another gunshot was fired, grazing leehan’s leg, and he fell to his knees. you ran to him, reaching out to rest your hand on the wound as you began to sob. “fuck! you have to stay with me.” with his arm resting around your shoulders, you dragged him back to the house.

you set him on the table and moved his hand to hold where he was shot. “hold it.” you rushed to where the medical supplies were stored and gathered whatever you could hold. when you got back, you saw how blood continued to spill out.

you got to work, focused on trying to patch him up, making sure he stays. “you can’t go. i won’t let it happen.” and while your hands busied themselves with treating the injury, you remember how leehan’s hand caressed your cheek, thumb wiping away the spilled tears.

“in the basement, there’s a piece of paper that has all the codes. if you ever—”

“no, you’ll be okay.”

still, he continued to talk. “if you ever forget the codes, you can always look at the paper. don’t forget that you need to always check the water system every two days, and—”

“leehan!” you croaked out his name in between sobs. “you’ll be okay. you have to, okay?” the more he went on about what to keep in mind, the baggage got heavier. “i can’t do this without you. i won’t allow it.”

because 15 months ago, you would’ve bid farewell to the mayhem. 13 months ago, you hoped for time to drag you away. 12 months ago, you would’ve walked into the forest. but it’s been 22 months, and you were still walking on this earth, choosing to live amidst the chaos—so long as leehan was with you.

and when you leaned your forehead on his, eyes closed, you felt his breath graze against your lips. “i need you.”

all it took were three words from you. “okay.”

it’s been two months since that happened. the safe haven was rebuilt once more. you and leehan fortified the defense system, hoping they’ll be enough to keep any infected and raiders out. all that matters is that you two were protected—safe—from the chaos.

now, you sit on a couch as you flip through the pages of a book you didn’t have time to read before the outbreak. when all responsibilities vanished, you were able to find enough time to do things you couldn’t do then.

you were ready to get yourself sucked into the world of the novel, but leehan came into the living room with his hands behind his back and a small smile on his lips. “do you remember what you made me promise you before?”

you frown at him, confused, until he shows you an acoustic guitar. “oh my god, you found one?” you put the book on the coffee table.

he takes a seat beside you, body facing towards you as he rests the instrument on his lap. “here, front-row tickets to my first show.” you almost laughed because this is no stadium or club, but a home—one you built with him.

it takes only one smile from him for you to hold it back.

“any song requests?” he strums on the guitar strings, perfectly in tune. it’s almost as if he tuned it before coming to you.

a hum leaves you as you rest your head on your hand propped on the couch. “whatever you want to show me.”

it takes him a few seconds, fingers fiddling with the strings, until he figures out what to play. when he sings out the words—dearest, darling, my universe—you melt like the candles you lit up those nights. as he continues to play a song of a world in hysteria but a love that endures, that’s when you realize what you’ve had all this time.

time is the one thing that occupies your mind. it holds value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and you learned to revolve your life around it.

it takes you two years to figure out that life doesn’t end after the outbreak—and 17 months to realize that your safe haven is not a two-story house with an orange tree in the garden but the boy in front of you.

when you lean closer to him, his fingers falter, messing up the chords. your hand reaches out to caress his face as your eyes flicker to his lips. you don’t miss how leehan holds his breath, how he stops playing the guitar, how his eyes look back at yours—it’s a slurry of warmth. tenderness.

“i love you.”

all it took was a three-word phrase from you for him to close the distance.

the warmth that spreads within you is like the one you experience in the abandoned cabin. but now, you’re full of hope—a reason to stay—in an infected-ridden world.

now, only one question echoes within your mind: how much longer do we have?

an eternity is what you hope.

tag list: @onedoornet @kflixnet @loserlvrss @lionhanie @nicholasluvbot

@blumisiu @0310s @icyminghao @shegotthewoobies

#works of moni #onedoornet #kflixnet #k-labels #leehan #boynextdoor #kim donghyun #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor angst #boynextdoor x reader #leehan x reader #leehan angst #leehan fluff #leehan boynextdoor #park sungho #park sungho imagines #park sungho angst #park sungho fluff

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dailytogachako · 4 months ago

Text

"mommy, daddy... i don't understand"

#:((#i can't #i really wish that she was happy #toga himiko #bnha spoilers

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thehouseofurmotha · 6 months ago

Note

Can you write Toga x rookie Frm!hero she convinces to join the LOV

Of course! I hope you enjoy :) Reader is freshly 18 in this story :))

Pairing: Toga x Fem!Hero reader,

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence and absusive child hoods

Summery: After being forced to by a hero by the commission, you meet a girl that changed something in you.

You had freshly been a hero for two weeks. You would say it's been the worst two weeks of your life, but that wouldn't be the truth. Because every week of your life since you were five has been absolute hell.

You were gifted with an extremely strong ice quirk, one the commission thought would be perfect for a hero. They came to you and your family, promising whatever they would need or ever want if they simply gave you up and cut all ties.

Growing up in a poor family that had been struggling with 6 other children. They didn't even think twice before accepting the offer.

You had been excited, at the idea of being a hero. To be able to save people everyday like the ones you see on tv. Until you learned the truth of what your life would be like from now on.

They practically tortured you, forcing you to strengthen your quirk into the greatest weapon it could be. Because that's all you were to them, a weapon.

You didn't want to live like this, you wanted to have a family, to have a life. To have a name. The commission had stripped you of your identity and turned you into Glacier, the hero that was too cold for her own good.

You weren't the sweet smiley hero that everyone had expected you to be after you made your Debut. You were cold to everyone and angry at the world. But nonetheless you quickly started gaining popularity due to your strong power, and ability to quickly take down buildings.

The world saw you as this hero, but to yourself you were nothing but a government approved killer. The commission didn't care about saving people, no they just force you to kill the ones who do wrong. You wish people knew, what went on behind the scenes. You wish the public hated you, because you deserved it. You were a puppet and the commission was pulling the strings.

You continue on your patrol, walking through allies waiting to see something that you need to stop. You hear footsteps behind you, quickly turning around to be met with a girl who seems to be around the same age as you.

She smiles, one thy could scare most people. But not you, not with the things you've seen. "Aren't you a cutie! I could just eat you up!!" She has such a happy voice, but you can see the knife in her hand. So you know that chances are this encounter isn't going to go well.

It clicks, in your mind who she is. Himiko Toga, a member of the league of villains. "You're Toga aren't you?" You doubt that she'd confirm it, but it was worth a try you thought.

"Mhm! And you're the new hero Glacier! I couldn't find what your actual name is though.. Anyways! I was sent by Mr boss man to come find you!" The last part of her sentence throws you off. The leader of the league sent her to come find you. Which in your mind could only mean one thing, that she was here to kill you. You immediately get into a defensive mode, ready to surround her in ice at a moments notice.

"Woah! Don't worry I'm not here to kill you silly!" You wonder what other reason she could be here then. None of it makes sense, you don't understand what the league would want with you.

"Then what are you here to do?" You know that you could capture her right now, freeze her right now and be the one who captures her. But some part of you is compelling you to let you hear what she has to say.

"Well! To put it simply cutie! We want you to be apart of the league!" She says with the widest smile like she isn't talking to a pro hero currently.

"And why do you think I would do that? I should freeze you right now and turn you in." You mumble the last part, but you can tell she still heard it.

"Well you haven't yet, sooo! And because you'd be a perfect fit silly! We've seen your interviews; seen how angry you are at the world. You can come with us! You can change the way the world is today! C'mon Glacier! Turn the world into something you want it to be!" The fact that you're even considering her offer scares you. You're a hero you shouldn't be thinking like this, but the idea of taking revenge on those who have hurt you is more temping than you'd like to admit.

She must have noticed that you were deep in thought because she broke the silence. "C'mon I can tell you're thinking about it cutie! Let's get revenge on everyone who has hurt us together!" You think about Keigo, the only person who knew the real you. He had gone through the exact same thing you had. He was like an older brother to you, the only semblance to a family you've ever had.

You sigh, "take your knife out and come here." You've decided you want to control your life. You want to be who you want to be, not what others expect you to be.

"Huh? Why silly! I'm not supposed to hurt you, just bring you back!" Why doesn't she want to hurt you, isn't that her whole thing? It thoroughly confused you.

"Well unless you want every hero in the country swarming your hide out, you've got to cut the tracker out of my neck." She smiles even wider at that. The commission had decided that you shouldn't be trusted, after you had tried to escape multiple times. So they forced a tracker into you, and threatened to kill you if you tried to take it out yourself.

"Oh my gosh!! Yay! We're gonna have so much fun together Glacier you don't understand! I'm so happy to finally have another girl in the league." She skips over to you pulling her knife out. You turn around and pull your hair back. You can't believe you're trusting this absolute psycho.

You hiss in pain as she slices the back of your neck. It's not something you can't handle though. Quickly you feel her fingers pull the little device out of your neck. You quickly freeze the skin together, stoping the bleeding and allowing for it to heal much quicker than it would before.

"Is that the only one? I'd love to do it again!!" The deranged smile she gives you makes you chuckle. You don't know why you find it funny but for some odd reason you do.

"Yeah it is, I've been completely checked for any others." This makes you think of Keigo. The night the two of you had spent checking every inch of each other's body for trackers. In any other situation than the one you guys were in, it probably would have been awkward. But you guys understand that it was information you needed if you ever wanted to get out.

"Okay!! C'mon then let's go back to the hide out! Twice is going to love you!" She grabs your hand and starts leading you away. You know that you're going to have second choices about your decision, but there's no going back now. You've made your choice, and your choice is revenge on the people who have hurt you.

As you walk she starts to talk to you. "Are you gonna tell us your real name? Or are you gonna be like Dabi who won't tell us.. he's such a meanie!" She rambles on, you think it's sweet. You wonder what happened to get her here.

"Oh it's Y/n." This is the first time you've gotten to introduce yourself with your name. Not the one that was forced upon you.

"Ooo I love your name Y/n!!" To hear your name come from a persons mouth gives you a comfort that you didn't know you needed.

"So, what happened to you that you ended up here?" You decide to be rather blunt about it. That's always just been the way you are.

"Ohh! Well I was tired of people telling me who to be! I wanted to be able to express my love the way I wanted! Not how everyone else wanted me to!" Even though it sad, she still keeps a happy face. "Look!! We're here Y/n!!" She opens the door in front of you and the first thing you see is a bar is the man with the warp power behind it, and the leagues leader sitting at it. You take a harsh breath. Preparing yourself to accept your new life.

"Hm so you were successful Toga, good job." The warp guy is the first to speak. "Welcome to the League Glacier, make yourself comfortable as this will be your new home for the time being. My name is Kurioguri, the one sitting at the bar is Tomura Shigaraki. The league's leader." You nod in response and before you can say anything Toga interrupts.

"Her name is Y/n actually!! She told me on the way here! Isn't it pretty! Twice! Come here you've got to meet her!!" Kurioguri, must sense that Toga is mildly stressing you out.

"Toga, relax you're going to scare her away and that's the last thing we want to happen." Even if you want to show him appreciation for it, it's just not how you are.

"She's fine." Your voice comes out cold, and harsh. But you could honestly care less.

"Hm little hero's got some bite to her." A man with black hair appears out of one of the rooms in the back.

"Dabiiii shushhh!" Toga says walking over to him and pulls her knife out. He just pushes her away and scoffs.

"I don't know why you guys trust her, she's probably just here to gather intel for her little hero friends." You send him a glare. The only one of those assholes who was your friend was Keigo.

"Like hell I'd put myself in that much danger for those fucking assholes. They weren't my friends. They were shitty people who wanted me to do their fucking dirty work starting the day I turned 18." This seems to shut him up as he raises his hands in defeat.

"You were right Kurioguri she'll make a perfect addition." The leader, Shigaraki finally speaks. "She has the same itch for revenge." You can slightly see his eye through the hand on his face.

"So little hero, what exactly is your quirk." He says walking towards you. Wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

"I can freeze any thing with molecules of water, including your blood which I'm going to do if you don't get the fuck off me." You think about just pushing him off but threatening him is much more fun.

"Alright damn, you're no fun." He takes his arm off your shoulder and walks away letting himself fall onto the couch.

Toga grabs your hand telling you about how she's got to show you around and show you her room. She's so excited about it and you realize that this is your life now. And you don't think you're too mad about it.

It turned out a little shorter than I wanted but I hope you enjoyed it!! As always requests are open open and happy reading <3

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