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roosterforme · 2 days ago

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Aim for the Sky Part 36 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley needed a day off with his wife, but you needed it more. Taking care of his family would come first from now on, and he had no problem proving that to you. As your plan begins to take shape, one of your allies doubles down.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, oral smut, lactation kink

Length: 4400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Cat gave you an earful over the phone, and you let her. As soon as you told her you wanted to move up the unveiling of the project she'd been leading for months, she panicked.

"I have it scheduled for December," she snapped. "Six weeks from now. It's not perfect yet, and you know how much I like perfection."

When you said, "It doesn't need to be perfect, it just needs to work," you heard a muffled scream.

"I'm going to break out in hives. I need to lie down," she hissed. "You're talking about something that affects the entire F/A-18 fleet."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not talking about the whole Super Hornet fleet yet. I'm talking about testing on a handful of aircrafts. Or maybe just one to start..."

When you went silent, Indigo's eyes danced through your mind along with her pompous voice and irritating strut.

"Do you have any idea how long I'll have to stay at work? I'll be here overnight finishing this. Overnight. Do you hear me?" Cat asked.

"I'll owe you big time," you replied. "I'll babysit Jer a hundred times. A thousand times."

"I absolutely refuse to mention this to Bickel," Cat whispered, reminding you she was at work while you were in your living room. "You can talk to him about it yourself, but I will not. Because I value my relationship with my commanding officer."

"I'll take care of Bickel. He loves it when we're ahead of schedule," you replied, biting your lip as you realized you would very much need his permission to push your plan forward. And you weren't sure you could get it.

"Why do you want this so much? And are you coming back to work today? What's going on?"

You took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Listen, I'll be there tomorrow, okay? And I'll fill you in then. Just...give me until tomorrow. Please, keep working on your code."

Cat groaned so loudly, you had to pull your phone away from your ear. "Fine." Then the call ended, and you ran for your bedroom with your hand holding your belly.

Bradley was already sound asleep, the dark circle under his eye prominent even as his face was half buried in his pillow. His thick arm was flung across the spot where your body belonged, and you could see his fingers twitching along the bedding like he was searching for you.

Your heart clenched, and you slipped quietly under the covers next to him. "There you are," he grunted, opening one eye as he pulled you closer. "Did you talk to Cat?"

"Yes," you whispered, letting him pull you close so his chest was pressed snug against your back. His warm hand settled on your belly, and his even breathing filled your ear.

"Baby Girl, I can't stay awake," he murmured, kissing the back of your neck. "I need a little nap, then I'll get up with Rose when she cries," he promised.

"I can get up. I'm not that sleepy," you told him, melting in his arms as his fingers circled your belly button.

"I love you," he rasped, kissing your ear before his soft snores filled the space.

Your eyes blinked slowly before closing, and you realized you were exhausted, too. The adrenaline that had filled you when you were in Bradley's office was drained now. Your belly was full from lunch, and Bradley was so warm. Even the baby had settled into a gentle squirming pattern like she knew you needed a break.

Sleep took over. You never heard a sound until you jolted awake alone in the dark bedroom with your breasts aching. You needed to feed Rose for some relief, because it had been hours since she'd eaten, so you slipped out of bed.

Bradley had her tucked in his arm, reading a story about a goose on the couch while Rose poked his mustache. Every other word was punctuated with his laughter, and Rose erupted into giggles.

"How am I supposed to finish the story when you keep distracting me? Now we'll never know if the silly goose finds his friends, and that's your fault, Nugget."

Rose giggled more, and Bradley tossed the book aside to give her kisses while you watched from the end of the hallway. He was the most perfect father, and you should have never doubted him. You wanted to apologize a million more times, but when his eyes met yours, you simply said, "I love you, Roo."

He was on his feet, Rose held against his chest, and then he was smothering you in kisses, too. You couldn't stop laughing as his rough mustache scratched your cheeks while he held you in place with one big hand on your butt.

When he finally stopped, he took you by the hand and said, "Wait until you see this. You're not going to believe it."

"What?" you asked, but he was already setting Rose down on her play mat. As soon as she was on her belly, she popped up to her knees, crawled two feet, and collapsed back onto her belly. "She's crawling!"

"She's crawling!" Bradley shouted. "I took a video of the first time, so you didn't miss it. This was only the second time, I swear. Unless she's been crawling around in her crib."

"She probably has been," you cooed, easing yourself down onto the floor next to her. She promptly started crying hysterically. "She associates you with fun. I think she only associates me with food," you said, pulling your shirt over your head.

"That's not true," Bradley insisted, staring openly at your breasts which were starting to leak. "You're so much more than a perfect rack."

With an eye roll you said, "I guess I should start thinking about what to make for our dinner while she eats."

Rose latched on while Bradley kissed the top of your head. "I already took care of it."

"You did?"

"Yeah, I reprised one of your mom's crockpot meals. Chicken soup."

You blinked up at him as he stood. "How? We don't have any groceries. I haven't felt like going shopping."

"Rosie and I took care of it. You needed to sleep, so we went to Costco. Did you know they give you twice the number of free samples if you take the cutest baby in the world?"

"Did you wear her in her carrier on your chest?" you asked as he went into the kitchen.

"Yep."

"That'll do it. Makes you look irresistible." Bradley blushed as he took the lid off the soup, and then the smell of dinner hit your nose. "Oh my god, I'm starving."

He started shifting things around on the counter. "I'll bring you a bowl, and it should be cool enough to eat by the time Rose is done."

You watched him work as your daughter got groggy in your arms. Bradley carried two bowls into the living room along with crackers and lemonade. He had dinner set up for both of you by the time Rose's eyes started to close, and that's when you realized just how late it was.

"I think she's ready for bed," you whispered, handing her to Bradley so you could stand.

"Go eat. I'll burp her and change her diaper," he promised, nodding toward the food.

As soon as his big hand circled her back, you heard her burp. It always took you twice as long. This was also the first night in weeks Bradley was home at this early, and you felt tears prickle your eyes as he walked around singing to Rose about the silly goose and his friends before vanishing into the nursery. It didn't take him long to return empty handed, and when he did, you were crying on the couch.

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Bradley missed this so much. He'd only been home for a handful of nights to get Rose ready for bed recently. Right now he was enjoying her fuzzy hair against his lips as he gently set her down on her changing table. He grabbed a fresh diaper and clean pajamas covered in airplanes while she yawned.

"Are you too tired to finish the story?" he whispered. "You're going to leave me on a silly goose cliffhanger?"

He swore she nodded. She probably did, she was so fucking smart. She could roll over and crawl, and soon she'd be talking and walking around.

"Okay," he murmured. "We can finish the book tomorrow."

He flicked on the lullaby machine even though she was already falling asleep in her crib and went in search of his wife and his dinner. But he found you sitting on the couch with tears on your cheeks.

He dropped to his knees in front of you. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you whispered, shaking your head. "I'm just happy you're home tonight."

Bradley's face fell as you wiped at your tears, guilt filling his body. "I'm so sorry I fucked up so much," he replied, reaching for your hands. "I just wanted to be on top of everything at work, but I should have been here with you."

"It's okay," you sobbed.

"No. It's not. None of this is fair to you, and I'm not even talking about Indigo right now. You need me helping more at home, and I haven't been. I took this new position so I could be here more and be deployed less, but I fucked it up. I'm thinking about asking Mav to pull me."

"No," you gasped, wiggling off the couch and onto his lap. "You can't, Bradley. You're such a good teacher."

He buried his face in your neck and inhaled as he wrapped his arms around you. "I'm a joke. Nobody's taking me seriously. I have a student who convinced herself she could take advantage of me."

You jerked his chin up so he was looking at you. "That's not even true. She admitted she pulled the same shit in the past, and of course she wanted you, too. You're so sexy. But that's her fucking problem at the end of the day, not yours. And I won't let her make it ours."

Bradley closed his eyes as you kissed his nose and his cheeks. "I just want you to be happy," he whispered. "I'll do whatever I can to make my family happy."

When you said, "You already reported her, right?" he nodded. "That makes me happy. And if you come home on time more often, that will make me happy, too."

"What about a vacation?" he asked softly, letting his hand rest on your belly. "Just the four of us? We could go away for our anniversary. Today was so nice, I think we need some more time off together."

You hummed and nodded. "Let me make sure I don't piss Bickel off tomorrow before I agree to that. I don't want to request time off with my tail between my legs."

Bradley raised one eyebrow. "I'm scared to know what you need to talk about that could make him upset."

"The less you know, the better."

Your words didn't calm his nerves, but your kisses did. So did the soup which was the perfect temperature to eat. You even watched an episode of Real Housewives of New Jersey with him before he started cleaning up.

"I can do that," you told him. "I slept all afternoon."

He turned you toward the bedroom and swatted at your butt. "You and Nugget number two were tired. Go relax in bed and start looking at the Halloween costumes I saved in my Amazon cart for Rose."

Bradley handed you his phone and sent you on your way. He let Tramp outside and loaded the dishwasher before wiping down the counter and packing up the rest of the dinner. When he finally walked into the bedroom, you were topless and giggling.

"We have to get her this costume!" you insisted, holding up his phone, showing him the one that was actually his top choice as well.

"That was my favorite," he grunted, watching your tits bounce as you sat up.

"It's too perfect. I'll order it right now."

Bradley was distracted as he walked around the room, trying to get ready for bed. He brushed his teeth and got undressed, eyes barely able to look anywhere but at your body. This morning, he woke up in the Bronco on the driveway, because you thought there was a chance he was messing around behind your back. He was just happy to put that behind him. He wasn't about to press his luck as he climbed in bed.

"Here you go," you whispered, handing his phone back. He took it and plugged it in to charge overnight, but your breasts brushed his arm. They were heavy and perfect, your nipples big and pert from all the hormones and breast milk. And now he was fully erect as he tried to lay on his back, reaching to turn the lamp off.

"Are you ready for bed? Or do you feel like staying up a little longer?"

Bradley's gaze snapped to your face as his fingers hovered next to the lamp. "I could stay up a little longer," he rasped, keeping his eyes away from your tits which were pressed together as you leaned closer to him. "If you want."

Bradley had barely touched you in weeks which was evidenced by his throbbing cock. You'd seemed tired and distant, all thanks to Indigo, but he didn't put the pieces together at the time. He thought you were worn out from your pregnancy. Right now, he was horny as hell but afraid for you to know where his mind was as he tried to discreetly adjust himself.

He left the lamp on as you curled up snug against his side. "I saw that you started another notebook for the baby," you said, your fingers skimming along your belly, showing off your perfect body.

Bradley grunted. "Each Nugget gets to read my personalized thoughts on parenthood when they're older."

Your lips found his shoulder, and he shivered. "You're a good dad. I'm sorry I doubted you." Bradley closed his eyes as your fingers traced his chest hair down to his abs. It felt like heaven. He wasn't going to make it.

"Why are you topless?" he gasped, tone accusatory. "You've been sleeping in a sports bra with those pad things in them."

"My nursing pads?" you asked, clearly confused. "So I don't leak at night?"

"Yeah. Those things. Why are your tits all over the place right now?"

You looked taken aback as you pulled your hand away from his body and sat up. Bradley groaned, eyes raking all over you as his cock tented the bedding. "I was going to put a bra on before I fall asleep. It just felt nice to take a break for a few minutes. Is it bothering you? I'll put it on now."

You were pouting, and he was sweating as you started to climb out of bed. "Jesus Christ, Sweetheart. Come back," he begged, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. "You look so fucking hot, I can't focus on anything."

"Oh." Your pout turned into softly parted lips that he needed to kiss. So he did. He sat up, letting the bedding fall to his hips as he smashed his lips to yours. Fuck, you felt too good. And then you blindly nudged his cock with your hand. "Oh!"

You pulled away, wide eyed and staring down. "Yeah," he grunted. "But in my defense, you had your tits all over the place. You still do." Then you wrapped your hand around his erection, and Bradley collapsed against his pillow. "We don't have to mess around tonight," he gasped. "It wasn't my intention at all. I just wanted to spend time together."

Your laughter filled his ears, and colors erupted behind his eyelids as you worked your hand down to his balls. "You really never stopped wanting me?"

"I've wanted you nonstop since the moment I first saw you," he whined, and then your lips wrapped around his cock. Bradley's eyes flew open, watching you give him head, but after a minute of pleasure, he was reaching for you. "I won't last another minute."

You pulled him free with a pop. "So?"

Bradley panted. "So, I want to make you feel good, too."

You smirked and licked him from balls to tip. "It makes me feel good knowing you can't stop looking at my body." He forced his gaze from your nipples to your face. "And it will make me feel good to swallow your cum before letting you suck on my tits."

He was going to pass out, he was sure of it. "Okay," he rasped, in no position to argue with you while you were gagging on his cock.

He had been correct. After another minute, he was grabbing at the bedding, hanging on for dear life. Your tits were bouncing against his inner thighs, and your belly looked gorgeous. Your face was perfect as you looked up at him with your mouth full. This wasn't what he expected, but he wasn't mad about it. He came, barking out your name as you swallowed every drop, licking him clean.

When you eased yourself onto your back, coaxing him closer to your taut nipples, he moaned. He was in heaven with your fingers in his hair, and when he tasted you, he knew he'd never get enough.

He kept you up for another hour, making sure you felt as good as he did.

----------------------------

You couldn't stop smiling the next morning as Bradley kissed your cheek while you tried to put your contacts in. "Can I have a little space, Roo?" you asked sweetly.

"No," he whispered, crowding in closer. "I can't stop touching you."

He'd done plenty of that last night. You came so hard on his mouth and fingers, you thought you were going to wake Rose up. Turns out Bradley had been missing you while you were trying to block him out to protect yourself. But Indigo was toast. You'd see to that. She had Bradley convinced he was terrible at his job, and that just wouldn't do. Neither would the fact that nobody got to have your husband except you.

"If you let me get ready for work, I'll blow you again tonight."

He took an immediate step away, hands up in surrender. "By all means, have as much space as you need, Sweetheart. I'll get Rose up and let her crawl around with Tramp."

After you brushed your teeth, you went to the closet. The maternity tent taunted you from the back corner, but you decided to squeeze into your regular uniform. "You'll have your day soon enough," you whispered. But your mind was already focused on work.

If Cat stayed late enough to finish the code, then just maybe you could pull this off. Indigo could get her punishment through the Navy, but you wanted to give her a little something special yourself. After all, she knew who you were, but she didn't know you overheard her in Bradley's office.

You were smiling as you strutted through the living room and out the front door. Rose was buckled in and ready to go, and Bradley was waiting in the driver's seat of the red Bronco with his aviators on.

"You look hot," he murmured, reaching to buckle your seatbelt for you after you climbed in. His lips brushed yours making you very aware you'd be late for work if the three of you didn't leave now.

"I told you I'd blow you tonight, not now."

Bradley laughed and started the engine. "That's not what I'm after, and you know it."

After he backed out of the driveway, he reached for your hand. "What are you after?"

"I want to have lunch with you in the cafeteria today."

Your smile grew as Bradley's rough fingers tangled with yours. "That sounds nice. Not sure what time I'll be able to get away though."

"Text me. Whenever you're free, I'll make it work."

"Okay," you whispered, turning to check on Rose. "And we'll leave on time to go home?"

"We'll leave on time to go home," Bradley confirmed.

You almost made another comment about the blowjob, but you knew it wasn't about that. He promised to do better, and you were going to as well. Starting with showing Indigo who's boss on your husband's behalf.

An hour later, your knuckles connected with Bickel's office door. "Come in!"

This was not the time for nerves. You needed to sound confident as hell. "Captain Bickel, Sir, can we talk about one of our projects for a minute?"

"Sure, Lieutenant Commander," he replied, shuffling some things on his desk. "Uh, have a seat."

He was kind and patient, and as soon as you got into it, you weren't nervous at all. "How do you feel about testing our code on some grounded Super Hornets ahead of schedule?" Kicking the project off early could actually be beneficial, and you knew it. It was a pretty easy sell. "It could give us a little more time to work out any kinks before the end of the year."

Bickel leaned back in his seat. "I'm not sure Lieutenant Commander Coleman is finished with the preliminaries."

"Oh, she is," you told him with a smile. "She's way ahead of schedule, because she's brilliant."

He laughed and nodded. "We really do have a great team. Hmmm." His brow furrowed, and he looked through his calendar. "I think this could actually work out well. Starting updates ahead of schedule means we could have the fleet back in the air ahead of schedule. Go ahead and move forward with an aircraft or two."

Your heart was racing. It was the moment of truth. This might not work out at all. "Do I need to choose randomly?"

Bickel shook his head. "Choose whichever you want. But if you ground your own husband, that's on you. I will not bail you out of that argument."

Satisfaction filled your insides as Bickel laughed at his own joke, and a giddy grin spread across your face. "I know just where to start, Sir," you promised, saluting him before running back to the lab with both hands on your belly.

Cat glared at you when you sat on the stool next to her. "I am so tired. Literally and figuratively," she mumbled. "Don't come in here and try to talk to me with your peppy BS. I don't want to hear it."

You laughed merrily and slid her computer away from her.

"Hey!" she complained, reaching for it, but you shook your head.

"We can start testing whenever we want," you said, opening the credentials list of each aviator currently at Top Gun associated with an F/A-18. "And we can choose which aircraft to run the program on first."

You scrolled past BRADSHAW, BRADLEY and FITCH, REUBEN and GARCIA, MICKEY as you made your way through the alphabet. When you got to JEFFRIES, BROOKE, you stopped and smiled. "Bingo."

"Who's Lieutenant Jeffries? And why did you go directly her them?" Cat asked as you casually went back to her lines of code to start double checking everything.

"Oh, she's been trying to fuck Bradley for over a month."

"What?" Cat screeched, jumping out of her seat. "What's going on?!"

You waved your hand dismissively. "She's a young pilot training under him, and apparently she likes getting sexy, older officers to sleep with her. Nothing's going on, much to her displeasure."

"Well of course nothing's going on!" Cat spat. "Hasn't she seen the way your husband looks at you like you're a dessert buffet?" You snorted, but she ripped her computer from your hands. "Give me this," she muttered, pounding away on the keys. A few seconds later, you realized what she was doing, but it was too late.

"Cat, don't!" you gasped. "You put 'check for potential incompetence and/or pilot error' in the notes!"

"So what?" she snarled. "I always do that when I ground an aircraft. It adds a layer of safety."

"I didn't even finish checking your new code to verify we can run the program!"

"It doesn't matter," she added, inching her computer further away from you. "My code is flawless. And this bitch can sit on the ground indefinitely, I don't even care. Don't mess with my friends."

You watched as Cat's index finger slammed into the return key.

"Oh my god," you groaned. "We're logged in under your credentials which means you're the one who will have to do a thorough investigation!"

This would add hours and hours of work to Cat's schedule. You knew it. She knew it, too, but she was rolling her shoulders with a satisfied smirk on her face. "I love investigations. I haven't done one since the summer. And as far as I'm concerned, it's better to be safe than sorry." Her smirk melted into a solemn expression. "I take my job very seriously. You know for a fact I'll do everything by the book."

"What about all the extra hours?" you whispered.

"I don't give a shit. You can help Jake can take care of Jer while I work late. I'll go over Jeffries' aircraft with a fine tooth comb."

When you looked at her, you burst into tears. "Thank you."

"You don't have thank me. It's my pleasure to keep the Pacific Fleet safe from all kinds of threats."

Eventually you texted Bradley when you were done checking Cat's perfect work, letting him know you were ready for lunch. The cafeteria was packed, but you found him standing alone at the end of the line.

"There you are," he murmured, collecting you in his arms and kissing you in front of everyone. "I'm so hungry, I thought I was going to have to start without you." He ushered you into line with a tray and began to pile it with food. "I got an email a few minutes ago letting me know that Indigo will be grounded until further notice starting tomorrow. You know anything about that?"

"I already told you, the less you know, the better. Don't forget to grab the hot sauce."

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I'm afraid Indigo doesn't stand a chance if Cat teams up with BG... I just don't want her anywhere near Bradley. Gonna start wrapping up this series in a few more chapters!

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aangelinakii · 3 days ago

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BIRTHDAY WISHES.

— happy birthday, you better enjoy your present.

summary : it's your birthday and a crushing damian decides to gift you something. let's just hope he's not ratting himself out here.

requested !

breathe, damian, it's just a day; they're just a person.

he'd been saying it in the bathroom mirror this morning whilst splashing some water on his face and attempting to style his hair a little better today.

at one point, tim had attempted to come inside as he was staring at himself, knuckles white as he gripped the basin, and damian was quick to slam the door on his forehead, and attempt to ignore the shrieks of pain coming from the hallway.

damian had been crushing deep for you, which he'd realised one ap physics lesson as he sketched the profile of your face in his notebook. you were just friends, and of course he knew that, but there was something about you that made his heart pound, and, evidently, draw you on his pages.

he didn't want to risk spending any money on you, since he didn't carry cash and people would raise some eyebrows if he went around the manor asking for money; if he used his card, his father would see and ask what he's doing buying from that flowershop downtown.

and there was no chance he'd just skip over it and not get you anything — it wasn't that he was trying to impress you, a little bit but not really, it was more so just expressing himself. express, not impress.

the reason he was so nervous about giving to you what he'd made was definitely your reaction.

"what the hell is this? you're a weirdo, you're crazy, you're this, you're that."

despite knowing you weren't that type of person, damian was anxious to be shamed; but at least he'd be showing you his art, instead of hiding it away in his drawers for not another soul to see.

at lunch, the two of you sat at your usual bench in the courtyard, soaking up what sun gotham was offering today — not too mild, not too cold.

whilst you spoke about how your day had gone so far, damian found himself zoning out, your voice becoming a drone in the back of his mind. it wasn't personal — well, maybe it was, considering it was you he was so nervous about.

since realising that his feelings for you were more than platonic, each moment spent with you was like spent back with his mother; he was holding something back, but also doing everything he could. the only difference between here at gotham academy and the league of assassins was that he wasn't learning to kill anyone, just trying to muster up courage to reply to your question.

"what, sorry?" damian asked, finally looking away from his hands to you, where you seemed to be looking at him expectantly.

a light chuckle passed your lips, and a round of chills run up his forearms. "i asked how your day has been, though? since mine clearly can't get any worse."

"any worse? how? it's your birthday."

but damian had definitely had his fair share of horrid birthdays, even going to far to forbid his own one from being celebrated at the manor; the most he lets anyone do is give him a present if they have one and walk off immediately, he doesn't want any singing or stupid sayings.

you hesitated, and damian realised quickly that you had already done all the talking about your day, and stammered on his words to respond to your first question. "uh— yes, no, my day's been alright. i have criminology after lunch, which is quite good." he was trailing off task. "anyway! it's your birthday, right? i mean, of course it is, i just said that... i got you something."

he immediately dove into his backpack, intent in avoiding the stare he could feel boring into the side of his head.

when he found it, it was exactly where he'd carefully slotted it in that morning, tucked in his hardback criminology textbook so it wouldn't crease.

the moment he pulled it from his bag, he could sense your polite confusion from here. "aww, how cute, dames, you got me a crim textbook," he could imagine you thinking, but then when he found the page, your entire demeanor changed.

carefully, damian plucked the piece of paper from where it sat and passed it gingerly to you, closing back up the textbook.

"damian, it's..." the words brushed past your lips in a whisper, sending another wave of chills prickling along his skin. thank god for the navy blazer gotham academy forced them all to wear, or else the jig would be up.

silent, he waited in aching anticipation for your response, his knuckles aching now from cracking them so much in the gap of silence. it was something he did to soothe himself — this time it seemed not to be working as well.

fragile in your fingers, you stared down at your graphite features, wondering where he'd got this angle from; there wasn't any pictures of yourself that you knew of, facing you so head-on, so close and raw, yet so filled with love. in fact, you didn't even know your face could be shown so happy. and then the moment flashed like a billboard in your mind.

after school the other day, you and damian had made a stop-off at the library on the way home, where you'd been hoping to grab a book to aid you in one of your classes, but, inevitably, you'd been distracted by the children's section. how come their area got to be all colourful and filled with fun activities? how come the rest of the library was so drab and dull? well, it did its job, anyhow.

but, laughing away with one another, you'd tucked yourselves into the kiddie-sized reading nook, knees pulled up to chests, shoes mushed against one another, no doubt scuffing them, grins ever-green in the presence of the other.

well... if that was the case, you must've looked really good that day.

before he could have time to brace for impact, you leapt up and engulfed damian in a hug so tender he could feel his heart begin to hammer from behind the cage of his ribs.

"thank you, thank you, thank you!" you grinned into his ear, giving him one final squeeze, pulling away by the time damian could even think around raising an arm to reciprocate.

hot, hot fire ran up the back of his neck, and he brought warm fingertips to brush along it — hopefully it wasn't as red as it felt like it would be.

"this is... better than anything i could ever ask for." your voice went from excited to quiet, more real, and damian felt something swell in his chest.

it only caused damian to smile something soft, and wedge his hands beneath his bottom to hide their tremor from your eyes. "so you like it?"

"like it?" you repeated with a laugh. "damian, i love it."

#aangelinakii #dc #dc comics #dc imagines #dc reactions #dc headcanons #dc universe #damian wayne #damian al ghul #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagines #damian wayne headcanon

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carisa-ironfell · 9 hours ago

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If you're going to church just for the "sermon" and want to get pissy about getting "lectured" instead, you're not actually listening to what's being said (or your pastor isn't saying the right things) and you definitely aren't going to church for the right reasons. It's just autopilot at that point, just a pointless ritual that doesn't mean anything. And I know this from experience because that's WHY I stopped going to church. I wasn't getting anything useful out of it, and the environment was taxing my mental health instead of helping me heal. I wasn't growing, I was just miserable and angry and bitter.

The point of church, as I've always understood it ever since I was little, is to connect with the other members of your community and help each other learn and grow and continuously become better people, to follow Jesus' teachings and LOVE people. You go to church to LEARN, and when needed, to be guided back to the right path by your pastor and/or your peers. That's literally their job. For example, most of Paul's writings. (Paraphrased: Y'all are acting crazy, stop doing that. Here's how to fix it.)

You don't have to agree with others' choices in order to love them, and something that a LOT of Christians seem to miss is: if you're not getting through to someone and you can't change their mind, let it go. The seed is planted, and there's a chance that years down the line, God will speak to that person and they'll be ready to listen. Shouting in their face (literally or figuratively) is only going to make them get defensive and shut down and push that time further away.

Anyway. No one who claims to be Christian or any kind of servant of God should be rejoicing in mass slaughter. And I've had to listen to "Christians" rant about how great and amazing the nightmare in Palestine and other Middle Eastern conflicts are, and it makes me sick. Whether you agree with them or not, people don't deserve to die like that. And if there's a member of a church who tries to implore the president to do something positive about that whole disaster, don't get pissed off with them, because they seem to understand the teachings better than you do.

I don't really consider myself Christian. I want nothing to do with that (generalized) group of people, because I have yet to meet any of them who make sense to me and can help me grow. I believe in God, I do my best to act in ways that reflects Him, but until the church starts shaping up and actually behaving with love and compassion instead of hatred, I'm not involving myself with them. It's dismal to watch and it makes my heart ache. And I can only imagine God probably feels the same way in a lot of cases.

I wasn't expecting to say this much ._. Uhh, sorry if anyone actually reads this lol Be safe and well! With love, Reggie 🤍

The lack of self-awareness is truly astounding.

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stylesispunk · 3 days ago

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"The soldier in the armour" | Last part

marcus acacius x f!reader

masterlist | previous chapter

summary: The search for peace of Rome starts with sacrifices and bloody hands and ends where lovers meet again.

wc: 16k (ups)

warnings: extreme angst, age gap, mentions of blood, power imbalance, mentions of death, violence, manipulation.

a/n: as much as I'm sad to end this story, I really needed it to do it. Writing as much as I enjoy and love it, it's also becoming unbearable to the point i can't find myself writing peacefully anymore and I need a break. Still, i'm leaving you with something else 👀 and I will still be here rebbloging stuff. Thank you so much to the sweet anon who requested this in the first place because it gave me the chance to expand a story i loved writing so much and thanks to everyone who commented on this story, the ones who always reblogged and shared their thoughts with me, and showed me real support. I appreciate it so much! ♥️ this was the original ending for this btw. Please, share your thoughts with me 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

The dim torchlight flickered against the damp stone walls, casting long shadows as the guard knelt beside you, pressing a small wooden cup of water into your trembling hands. His voice was gentle, almost hesitant, as if the weight of his next words could cut in half.

"Here. Drink this, my lady."

You took the cup but didn’t bring it to your lips. Your throat was raw, not just from thirst but from the weight of everything crashing down on you. Instead, your mind raced with so many questions about the ones you loved.

"How… how are they?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

The guard sighed, his expression darkening. "Your mother is alright."

A sharp exhale of relief left your lips, but it didn’t last.

"Hanno?" you asked without wanting to reveal his real identity.

His brow furrowed. "Why do you care about that gladiator this much?"

You shot him a glare. "How is he?"

A beat passed before he muttered, "Good. He is fine too, my lady."

But that wasn’t the name that hung the heaviest on your heart, tearing it apart.

"My husband… how is Acacius?" your voice cracked.

At the sound of his name, the guard’s lips parted, but no words came out at first. His hesitation was enough to send ice through your veins.

"General Acacius… Emperor Geta and Caracalla-"

Your stomach twisted violently. "Is he dead?" You choked out, your fingers tightening around the cup until it nearly cracked in your grasp.

"No," the guard said quickly, shaking his head. "But they have… they are sending him to the arena to fight for his life… as punishment."

Your entire body froze. "And they’re going to make me watch," you whispered, the words hollow and filled with fury. It wasn’t just cruel but calculated, a vicious torment. Geta wanted to break you in every way possible.

The rage that had been simmering inside you boiled over.

"Where is he?" you demanded, your breath coming in uneven bursts.

The guard swallowed hard, glancing toward the entrance of the dungeon as if he feared being caught. "You shouldn’t-"

"Where. Is. He?" you cut him off, your voice sharp like a blade.

For a moment, he looked at you, not as a prisoner, not as the emperor’s pawn, but as the little girl he had known all his life. A woman who had once walked through the gardens of the palace without fear, whose laughter had once filled the halls of Rome. He let out a slow breath, then leaned in closer.

"In the lower cells," he whispered. "They took him there until dawn."

“Could you take me to see him?” You asked him, throwing the cup of water on the ground.

The guard hesitated, his jaw tightening as he glanced nervously toward the entrance of the dungeon. “I can’t. It’s too dangerous. For you and for me.”

Desperation clawed at your throat. “Please,” you pleaded, leaning forward as much as the chains would allow. “I just need to see him. Just for a moment.”

He looked away, running a hand over his face, as if waging an internal war. “If they catch us, they’ll kill us both.”

“Then let me die, I’ll blame myself for it” Your voice wavered, but your resolve did not.

His eyes flickered with something, pity, perhaps even understanding. He owned too much to your family and to Acacius, so muttering a curse under his breath he finally nodded. “Fine. But you must cover up. And it must be fast.”

Relief crashed over you, and you nodded eagerly. “Thank you.”

He stood, moving quickly to retrieve a tattered cloak from a pile of discarded linens in the corner. He draped it over your shoulders, pulling the hood low over your face.

“Keep your head down. Stay close.” His voice was firm but quiet.

You nodded once more, your heart hammering against your ribs as he unlatched the chains from the wall. Your wrists throbbed, the skin raw and bruised, but you didn’t care.

Not long after, the guard led you through the dimly lit corridors of the palace, the torches casting long, flickering shadows on the cold stone walls. Your heart pounded with every step, the weight of the cloak heavier than ever on your shoulders, but nothing compared to the what was pressing against your chest, the thought of seeing Acacius, of what had been done to him.

You kept your head low, your hands trembling as you clutched the fabric close to your body. Every time footsteps echoed nearby, the guard would stop, pressing you into the shadows, his hand firm on your arm as if reminding you to stay silent.

Finally, you reached the holding cells near the arena. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, damp stone, and blood. You could hear the low murmurs of other prisoners, the occasional clank of chains.

The guard glanced around before gesturing for you to follow. He stopped in front of a heavy iron-barred door. “He’s in there,” he whispered. “Be quick.”

You swallowed hard, your hands shaking as you stepped forward. The guard pulled a key from his belt and slid it into the lock, the heavy door groaning as it opened just enough for you to slip inside.

At first, the darkness swallowed everything, and then

“Acacius.” You whispered, calling out his name.

He was slumped against the wall, his wrists bound in iron cuffs, his tunic torn and bloodied. His dark hair was damp, sticking to his forehead, and a fresh cut trailed along his cheekbone. But his eyes, his sharp, brown eyes, snapped open the moment he heard your voice.

“My love?” His voice was hoarse, as if he had been calling for you in his sleep.

You rushed to him, falling to your knees, your hands reaching for his face. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a brief moment as if savoring it.

“I’m here,” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. “I’m so sorry, Acacius. I tried-”

“Shh.” His forehead pressed against yours, his breath uneven. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

You weren’t safe but it didn’t matter to you anymore, your fingers trembled as they traced over his bruised skin. “They’re sending you to the arena.”

He exhaled sharply. “I know.”

You shook your head, panic surging in your chest. “I can’t let this happen. I won’t.”

His chained hands lifted as much as they could, brushing against your arms, trying to soothe you despite the agony he must have been in. “You have to be strong.” His voice was firm but gentle. “You have to survive this. That’s the promise I made to your mother and that’s the promise I made to myself.”

“Not without you.” You sobbed.

His eyes softened, full of something deeper than love, something treading your two-heart beating faster.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as shook your head, your lips pressing against his in a desperate, lingering kiss. He kissed you back with all the strength he had left, pouring his love and soul into you, as if trying to leave a piece of himself with you, in case this was the last time.

A sudden sound at the door made you break apart. The guard stepped inside, urgency on his face.

“They’re coming. We have to go-now.”

You turned back to Acacius, your hands gripping his face as if you could keep him here with you forever.

“I will find a way.” Your voice was a promise. “I swear it.”

His eyes burned into yours. “Then I will wait for you, my love. In this life or the next.”

The guard pulled you away, and Acacius’ hands fell to his sides as you were torn from him. Your silent sobs echoed in the chamber as the door slammed shut between you.

The guard took you back to your cell, where the reality fell over you. Not enough praying would bring you back to the nights lying next to Acacius and enveloped in his arms, safe and sound.

The moment you stepped back into the cell, the cold iron bit into your wrists once more as the guard fastened the chains, his movements slower this time, almost hesitant. You could still taste Acacius on your lips, still feel the warmth of his hands on your skin. But now, all you had was the damp air of your prison and the weight of despair pressing against your chest.

The guard exhaled, stepping back. His brow was furrowed, his jaw clenched as if wrestling with something deep inside himself.

“You don’t deserve this,” he muttered. “None of it.”

You lifted your tear-streaked face, meeting his gaze. “Then let me go.”

His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but he only shook his head. “I have my duty.”

You let out a bitter laugh, your voice hoarse from emotion. “Duty? To whom? Geta? Caracalla? Do you think they would do the same for you?”

His face darkened, but he didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. You already knew.

“I serve Rome first,” he said after a long pause, but there was something hollow in the way he spoke. As if he was trying to convince himself.

Your wrists throbbed as you shifted against the cold chains, your anger burning hotter than your grief now. “Then you are just as much a prisoner as I am.”

A flicker of something—shame? Regret?—crossed his face, but it vanished just as quickly. He turned toward the door.

“I hope the gods are kind to you, my lady.”

Then he left. The heavy door slammed shut, sealing you in darkness once more.

A shuddering breath escaped you as you pressed your forehead against the damp stone wall. Your body ached, your heart ached, but your mind was clearer now.

Acacius was running out of time.

And you were done waiting.

The hours dragged on, each second stretching into eternity as you remained chained in the cold, damp cell. The weight of what was coming settled deep in your bones, but you refused to surrender to it. Acacius was there, awaiting his fate, and you would not sit idly by while the love of your life was thrown into the arena like a common criminal.

When the first rays of morning light filtered through the cracks in the stone walls, you finally spoke. "I demand to see the emperors."

The guards exchanged glances; their expressions unreadable. One of them scoffed, but the other hesitated.

"You are in no position to demand anything," one of them sneered.

You lifted your chin, steel in your voice despite the exhaustion creeping into your limbs. "I am still a daughter of Rome, and I will be heard."

A long silence stretched between you and them before the guard who had led you to Acacius the night before stepped forward. His jaw was tight, his eyes flickering with something unspoken. He sighed.

"Very well. But be careful what you ask for.”

The chains were undone, your wrists sore and bruised, but you ignored the pain once again. Two guards flanked you as they led you through the corridors of the palace. The familiar scent of incense and polished marble filled your senses, a stark contrast to the filth of the dungeons.

When the heavy doors to the grand hall were pushed open, your eyes immediately landed on them—Geta and Caracalla, seated on their thrones, draped in the finest silks, adorned in the weight of power they had not earned.

Geta was the first to notice you, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smile.

"Ah, my little rebel." His voice was thick with amusement. "I was wondering when you'd come crawling back to beg."

Caracalla, in contrast, simply watched you with an expression unreadable, his dark eyes cold and calculating.

You stepped forward, ignoring the guards at your sides, ignoring the ache in your body. You met Geta’s gaze without fear, without hesitation.

"I did not come to beg." Your voice was steady. "I came to make a deal."

That caught their attention. Geta's smile faltered, and Caracalla finally leaned forward, intrigued.

"A deal?" Geta mused, amusement returning. "What could you possibly offer that we don’t already have?"

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, your heart hammering in your chest.

"Myself." You let the word settle between you before continuing, voice unwavering. "You release Acacius, my mother and Hanno. Let them leave Rome unharmed. And in return... I will do whatever you wish. I will be yours."

Geta's smile widened into something almost victorious, while Caracalla tilted his head, scrutinizing you.

The room was silent for a moment, the air thick with tension.

Then Geta let out a quiet laugh. “I can’t believe it!”

He stood from his throne, stepping toward you, his gaze dark and triumphant. "But tell me, my love... are you truly willing to sacrifice yourself for a man who may already be dead?"

Your blood turned to ice.

You swallowed hard, keeping your expression unreadable. "You wouldn't have let him die so quickly. Not when you could turn his suffering into a spectacle."

Geta’s smirk deepened. "You know me too well, my princess" he said, caressing your face.

Caracalla exhaled sharply, almost bored. "What makes you think we would honor such a deal?"

You turned your gaze to him, unflinching. "Because you love control. And forcing me into submission would be far more satisfying to you than simply killing them outright."

Another beat of silence.

Then, Geta reached forward, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch making your skin crawl. "Oh, my sweet lady... you may have just sealed your fate."

Your heart pounded, but you did not flinch. “I request divorce from General Acacius.” You said, trembling.

A hush fell over the grand hall, the weight of your words pressing against the air like a thundercloud ready to burst. Even Geta, who had been reveling in his triumph, paused for a moment, his smirk faltering ever so slightly before returning with renewed satisfaction.

Caracalla, however, was the first to speak, his dark eyes narrowing. "Divorce?" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the arms of his throne. "Do you take us for fools?"

You swallowed hard, every nerve in your body screaming at you to run, to fight, to do anything but stand here and willingly destroy the bond that tethered you to Acacius. But you had no choice.

Your voice was barely above a whisper, but it was firm. "I do what is necessary."

Geta let out a slow chuckle, stepping even closer, his breath warm against your skin as he tilted your chin up to face him. "So quick to throw away your little love story," he mused. "Tell me, does he know you would sell him so easily?"

"This isn't about him," you said, your voice cracking, but you forced yourself to remain steady with your lie. "This is about Rome."

Caracalla scoffed. "Rome? Or your own survival?"

You turned to him, your heart hammering so loudly in your chest you feared they could hear it. "A wife cannot be forced into marriage with another man while she belongs to another. If I renounce to him, you have no reason to keep him in Rome. No reason to make him suffer."

Geta hummed in amusement. "And if we refuse? If we simply let him rot in the arena?"

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. "Then you lose any control you hope to have over me. I will fight you at every turn, defy you in ways that will make the Senate and the people question your power. But if you let him go..." You forced yourself to meet Geta’s gaze, hating the victorious gleam in his eyes. "Then I am yours."

Silence stretched between you all, thick and suffocating.

Geta exchanged a look with Caracalla, something unspoken passing between them. Then, he turned back to you, his smirk deepening. "Very well, my love. You will have your divorce."

Your stomach twisted violently.

"And Acacius?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Geta grinned. "Let’s not be too hasty, shall we? The games are still to be held. And what is a spectacle without its most anticipated performance?"

Your blood turned to ice. "You swore—"

"I swore nothing," Geta interrupted smoothly, his fingers tracing your jaw. "But if your dear Acacius and that beloved gladiator of yours prove themselves worthy in the arena… perhaps I will reconsider their fate."

Your eyes widened at that. Acacius and Lucius fighting in the arena for a mere mistake of you.

“What is wrong, my love? You thought I wouldn’t find out that gladiator is your presumed to be dead brother?”

Your breath caught in your throat. The world tilted beneath you as Geta’s words sank in like a dagger to your chest.

Lucius.

Your heart pounded wildly, disbelief warring with the sheer horror of the situation. You had spent years grieving him, mourning the brother who had been stolen by fate from you. And now, that you had tried to save him, here he was, forced into bloodsport, pitted against the man you loved, all because of you.

Geta’s smirk widened at your silence. "Ah, there it is. That look of devastation I so adore," he murmured, his fingers still tracing your jaw as if he were savoring every ounce of your suffering. "I must admit, I was rather surprised when I discovered the truth. Your dear Lucius… alive, a mere gladiator, reduced to nothing but entertainment for the masses. I almost pitied him."

Your body trembled with rage, but you refused to break before him. "You sick, wretched-"

He tutted, pressing a finger to your lips to silence you. "Careful now. You wouldn't want to anger your future husband."

You wrenched your face away from his touch, your nails biting into your palms as fury and despair crashed over you in violent waves.

"You planned this," you whispered, horror lacing your voice. "You waited until I had no way to fight back, until I was desperate enough to come crawling to you."

Geta only chuckled. "Of course, my love. Did you truly believe you had a choice in any of this?"

Caracalla, who had remained silent until now, let out an amused sigh. "Enough theatrics. She has her answer." He waved a hand lazily. "Take her back. She’ll have the best seat in the arena for tomorrow’s entertainment. Next to Lucilla."

The guards grabbed your arms, pulling you back toward the door, but your mind was spinning too fast, your heart hammering with only one thought-

You dug your heels into the floor, twisting in the guards' grip. "Geta, please!" you pleaded, hating yourself for it but knowing you had no other choice. "Lucius is my brother—my blood. Spare him, at least. You’ve already won. You have me!"

Geta only smiled, utterly delighted by your desperation. "Oh, my love, I haven’t won yet. Not until I watch your heart shatter in that arena. Besides I wouldn’t allow the grandchild of Marcus Aurelio to live."

Your blood turned to ice.

"Perhaps they’ll kill each other. Or perhaps the people will cheer as the lions tear them apart. Either way, you will watch, and you will understand—" he leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear "—that I own you. In every way that matters. Even when Acacius took you in that way too."

A sob built in your throat, but you swallowed it down.

You would find a way to stop this. Even if it meant destroying Geta himself.

Geta’s cold smile twisted into something darker as he waved his hand dismissively. “Take her to my quarters,” he commanded, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “And make sure she’s cleaned up. I want her looking her best for the games tomorrow.”

The guards tightened their grip on your arms, dragging you away from the grand hall. Your legs felt weak beneath you, each step heavier than the last. As you were pulled through the winding corridors, a hollow numbness settled over you, shielding you from the crushing reality of what was to come.

The guards stopped before a set of ornate doors, shoving them open and pushing you inside. The room was lavishly decorated, with rich fabrics and polished marble, but it felt suffocating, like a gilded cage.

Two servants appeared, their eyes lowered, and began to draw a warm bath in the corner, their movements quick and practiced. One of the guards barked an order at them. “Make sure she’s presentable. And keep an eye on her.”

The door slammed shut behind them, and you were left standing in the center of the room, your breath shaky, your heart pounding. The servants approached you cautiously, gently taking your hands and guiding you toward the bath. You allowed them to remove the dirtied cloak and help you into the steaming water, the warmth seeping into your bruised skin but doing little to ease the chill in your bones.

As they washed away the grime and blood, your mind raced. You had to think. You had to find a way out of this nightmare, a way to save both Acacius and Lucius. But with each passing moment, the walls seemed to close in tighter around you, Geta’s words echoing in your mind.

When the servants finished, they helped you into a simple, elegant gown, white and gold, befitting someone meant to be paraded before the masses. They braided your hair with trembling hands, casting nervous glances toward the guards standing by the door.

Once you were ready, one of the guards stepped forward, his expression blank. “You’ll stay here until you’re summoned.”

Your jaw tightened, but you nodded, watching as they exited the room, the door locking behind them with a resounding click.

Left alone, you paced the room, your hands shaking as you ran through every possible scenario. But each plan seemed more hopeless than the last.

You couldn’t give up. Not when the lives of the people you loved hung in the balance.

You moved to the window, pressing your forehead against the wall, watching the city below begin to stir with the first light of dawn. Acacius was preparing for a fight he shouldn’t have to face, and Lucius… your brother, alive, suffering because of a twisted game of power.

Your fingers brushed against the golden ring your mother had once given you. A knock at the door startled you, and a servant peeked inside, her voice trembling. “My lady, is there anything you need?”

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, steeling your resolve. “Yes,” you replied, turning to face her. “I need my mother.” You said, as tears streamed down your face.

The servant hesitated, glancing nervously toward the guards outside the door. "My lady... Lady Lucilla has been confined to her chambers. The emperors ordered that she couldn’t to see anyone."

Your heart clenched, but you squared your shoulders. "Then find a way," you urged, stepping closer. "Tell her I need her. Tell her it's urgent."

The servant bit her lip but nodded, bowing her head before slipping out of the room.

Left alone, you turned back to the window, gripping the cold stone as your tears fell freely. Your relationship with your mother had been complicated, but now she was your only pilar of strength, the only one who had ever truly understood the weight of your burdens. If anyone could help you, it was her.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours before the door creaked open again. You spun around, hope flaring in your chest, only for it to vanish just as quickly.

It wasn’t your mother, but Geta.

Your stomach twisted as you straightened, schooling your features into a mask of cold defiance. The servant quickly bowed her head, backing away toward the shadows.

Geta took his time crossing the room, his eyes drinking in the sight of you in the gown his servants had chosen. A slow, satisfied smirk curled his lips.

“Much better,” he murmured, reaching out to trail a finger along your cheek. You forced yourself to stay still, refusing to give him the satisfaction of recoiling.

“Enjoying your newfound authority?” you asked, your voice flat.

He chuckled. ��Oh, my sweet, stubborn lady. You can glare at me all you like, but you and I both know how this will end.”

“Do we?” you shot back. “Because I think you forget that caging me only makes me more dangerous.”

Geta laughed at that, full and rich, as if you had just amused him beyond measure. “That fire of yours,” he mused, “it’s what makes this so thrilling. You think you’re still in control, don’t you?”

He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear as he whispered, “We’ll see if you’re still so defiant after you watch your beloved Acacius bleed for my entertainment.”

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides, rage bubbling like molten lava beneath your skin.

“You will regret this,” you swore, voice shaking with fury.

Geta only smiled. “Perhaps. But for now, I will enjoy watching you break.” He said, kissing your shoulder, just above the scar he had done in there a while ago. “But I know you want to see Lucilla, and as your soon to husband I will allow you to see your mother for a minute.”

Your body went rigid at his touch, the ghost of old wounds burning beneath his lips. You forced yourself to stay still, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you recoil.

“You are still not my husband,” you spat, your voice dripping with venom.

Geta only chuckled, stepping back as if your defiance amused him rather than angered him. “Say that all you want, my love. The day will come when you’ll have no choice but to accept it.”

You swallowed down the bile rising in your throat. There was no use in wasting words on a man who thrived on your resistance. Instead, you latched onto the one small mercy he had granted.

“Take me to her,” you demanded.

His smirk deepened, but he gestured to the guards, who immediately stepped forward. “Escort her to the Lucilla’s chambers. She has one minute.”

Two guards flanked you as they led you out of the room and down the dimly lit corridors.

Your heart pounded as you neared your mother’s chambers. You hadn’t seen her since your imprisonment. The thought of what she must have endured in your absence made your chest tighten.

The heavy doors opened, and the moment you stepped inside, you saw her—Lucilla, sitting by the window, her elegant frame draped in a dark silk robe, her usually poised expression now marred by worry.

“Mother,” you whispered, rushing forward.

She turned at the sound of your voice, and in an instant, you were in her arms.

“My darling,” she breathed, clutching you tightly, as if afraid you’d disappear. “What have they done to you?”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you forced them down. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t have much time.”

Lucilla pulled back, searching your face. “Tell me what I need to do.”

You took a shaky breath, gripping her hands. “Acacius and Lucius are to fight in the arena. I have to stop it.”

Her eyes darkened with grief and fury. “Those monsters,” she whispered. “He will never be satisfied until he has crushed you completely.”

Your breath hitched. “I won’t let them kill him.”

“Listen to me carefully,” she said, her voice low. “You cannot afford to be reckless. Do you understand?” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “You are my daughter. You are of noble blood. But that means nothing to them. To Geta, to Caracalla, you are just another pawn.”

“Then I will stop being their pawn.” Your voice was steel now. “I will fight.”

Her gaze softened, but only slightly. “If you truly mean that, then you need to be smart.”

You swallowed, waiting.

She reached for a golden pin from her belt, a simple yet elegant piece of jewelry. But as she turned it in her hand, the tip gleamed sharp as a dagger.

“This belonged to your grandmother,” she said, placing it in your palm. “Use it as you want to.”

You stared at the pin, feeling the weight of the upcoming consequences weighting heavily on your hands.

“I don’t want you to fight with words,” she continued. “I want you to fight with power. And power, my daughter, is taken. Not given.”

Your fingers curled around the pin, your heart pounding. Before any of you could say something else, the guards stepped forward. “Time’s up.”

Lucilla’s grip tightened, but she nodded, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Be strong, my love.”

As they pulled you away, you met her gaze one last time, silently pleading for her to find a way, to do whatever it took to keep Acacius and Lucius alive.

The guards led you back through the winding corridors of the palace, your mother’s words echoing in your mind.

Power is taken, not given.

You clutched the golden pin in your palm, the sharp tip pressing into your skin, grounding you. It was a weapon, small but deadly. A tool of survival. A symbol of defiance.

The halls were eerily silent, the torches flickering against the cold stone walls. When you reached Geta’s quarters, the guards opened the door and ushered you inside.

He was waiting for you. Reclined on a cushioned chair, a goblet of wine in his hand, his smirk already in place. He studied you as if you were a rare creature he had trapped in a cage.

“Did you enjoy your reunion, my love?” he mused, taking a slow sip of his drink.

You forced your expression to remain impassive. “It was enlightening.”

Geta tilted his head, as if weighing your words. Then, with a wave of his hand, he dismissed the guards. The heavy doors shut behind you, leaving you alone with him.

He stood, closing the distance between you in two slow, deliberate steps. “You’re trembling.” He traced a finger along your jaw, his touch featherlight, mocking. “Are you afraid?”

You met his gaze head-on. “No.”

His smirk widened. “Good. I’d hate for you to become dull.” He stepped behind you, fingers brushing over your shoulders as he leaned in. “I have to admit, I do find this fight rather… exciting. Your beloved general against the brother you once thought dead. Who will win? Who will die? What a spectacle it will be.”

You swallowed back the bile in your throat. He was toying with you, savoring your pain.

“Tell me, my sweet,” he whispered, lips brushing against your ear. “Who do you hope survives?”

Your fingers tightened around the pin hidden in your palm.

This was it.

A moment of hesitation would cost you everything.

Your breath was steady as you turned your head slightly, your lips ghosting near his cheek as if you were surrendering.

Then, with a swift movement, you drove the golden pin into his side.

Geta inhaled sharply, his body jerking as pain registered in his eyes. He staggered back, looking down at the small weapon buried just below his ribs.

His stunned expression turned into something else. Amusement. Then, laughter.

Blood dripped from the wound, staining his tunic, but he didn’t collapse. He didn’t even reach for a weapon.

Instead, he cupped your face roughly, forcing you to look at him, his grip tightening like a vice.

“Oh, my love,” he chuckled, voice dark with pleasure. “You just made this so much more fun.”

His grip on your face tightened, his nails digging into your skin as he tilted your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze. The laughter in his eyes was almost more terrifying than his fury.

“You never fail to surprise me,” he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek. His free hand reached down, wrapping around the golden pin still lodged in his side. With an agonizing slowness, he pulled it out, the wet sound of metal sliding from flesh making your stomach churn.

Blood trickled from the wound, staining his fingers. He studied it with something close to fascination before flicking his gaze back to you.

“Did you think this would kill me?” he asked, voice laced with amusement. “A little pin?”

You remained silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of fear.

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Foolish, but admirable.” He lifted the pin, brushing the bloodied tip against your lips. “Perhaps I should return the favor.”

Before he could act, the doors burst open.

Caracalla.

His expression was unreadable as his gaze flickered between you and Geta. Then, he noticed the wound. His eyes darkened.

“What has she done?”

Geta let out a sharp breath, wiping the blood from his side with an almost lazy motion. “My beloved soon to be wife wanted to kill me” His lips curled into a smirk. “Charming, isn’t it?”

Caracalla’s jaw clenched. He took slow steps toward you, his presence as suffocating as ever. When he reached you, he lifted your chin with two fingers, inspecting you like one would inspect a delicate vase with a crack down the middle.

“Do you want to die?” he asked, voice low, but his gaze didn’t show such fury as Geta’s gaze.

“No,” you answered, steady. “I want to be free.”

Caracalla’s fingers lingered beneath your chin, his grip neither cruel nor kind. His gaze, sharp and assessing, lingered on your face as if weighing something in his mind.

Then, he exhaled, dropping his hand. “Enough, brother.” His voice was quiet but firm.

Geta’s smirk faltered. “Brother—”

“She is to watch them fight tomorrow. That alone is enough.” Caracalla’s tone brooked no argument.

Geta clenched his jaw, displeased, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he scoffed, shaking his head. “Since when you are soft on her?”

Caracalla ignored him, his piercing eyes settling back on you. “You will be there when the sun is highest. You will watch Acacius and Lucius fight for their lives, and you will understand that your defiance comes at a cost.”

Your heart pounded, but you refused to look away.

Geta stepped closer, brushing a bloodied thumb over your cheek. “And if they fail…” He let the words hang between you like a blade above your throat.

You swallowed hard, refusing to react.

Caracalla turned on his heel. “Make sure she is prepared for the event.” He glanced back at you once, his expression unreadable. “She will not be harmed further.”

With that, he strode from the room, leaving you alone with Geta.

Your stomach twisted as Geta chuckled under his breath. “You should thank him, you know.” His fingers gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him. “If it were up to me, my love, you would learn your lesson another way.”

His lips hovered near yours, the taste of blood and power thick in the air between you.

Night had fallen, but sleep refused to come. You lay on the lavish bed, staring at the canopy above, your mind an endless storm of thoughts.

Acacius—alone in a cold, dark cell, preparing for a battle he should never have to fight. Lucius—your brother, alive, but trapped in this nightmare because of you. Your mother—powerless, yet still trying to protect you the only way she could.

You turned onto your side, then onto your back, then your stomach, but no position brought comfort. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Acacius bleeding in the arena, Lucius collapsing to the sand.

With a frustrated sigh, you sat up, rubbing your face. You needed to think. You needed a way out of this.

Your gaze flickered to the door. Two guards stood outside, always watching, always waiting. But you knew one thing about soldiers: they were predictable.

Slowly, you slid out of bed, smoothing your nightdress before padding toward the door. Taking a deep breath, you knocked lightly.

A moment later, the heavy door creaked open, and one of the guards peered inside, eyes wary. M “What?”

You shifted on your feet, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I need to use the baths.” Your voice was soft, meek. “Please.”

The guards exchanged a look. “It’s the middle of the night.” The first one frowned.

You lowered your gaze. “I know, but… I can’t sleep. I feel filthy, and tomorrow I have to—” You let your voice break just slightly, just enough to make them uncomfortable. “I won’t try anything. I just need a moment to clear my head.”

The second guard sighed. “Let’s just take her. What harm can she do?”

The first hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. But make it quick.”

They pulled the door open fully, and you stepped out, schooling your expression into quiet gratitude. But inside, your heart pounded.

This was your chance.

The corridor was dimly lit by flickering torches, casting long shadows against the stone walls. The guards flanked you on either side as they led you through the halls, their armor clinking softly with every step.

You kept your gaze downcast, your expression carefully schooled into one of exhaustion and resignation. But inside, your mind was racing. Every turn they took, every doorway you passed—you memorized it all. If there was any way to escape, you needed to know the layout of the palace like the back of your hand.

Finally, you arrived at the baths. The steam rose from the water, curling into the air like ghosts. The guards stopped at the entrance, one crossing his arms. “You have ten minutes.”

You nodded, stepping inside. The door remained slightly ajar, just enough for them to watch you.

You moved to the edge of the bath, dipping your fingers into the warm water, pretending to gather your thoughts. In reality, you were searching, searching for something, anything you could use.

A bronze jug sat on the edge of the bath; its handle curved elegantly. Heavy enough to knock someone out? Perhaps.

Your fingers traced the golden pin your mother had given you, still tucked safely in the folds of your dress. A hidden weapon. A last resort.

Your mind worked quickly. The guards were distracted, speaking in low voices. If you acted fast enough, maybe-

A noise.

Your breath caught. It wasn’t from the guards. It was from the far end of the bathhouse.

You turned your head slightly, eyes scanning the shadows. Then, you saw it—a figure, barely visible in the dim light.

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you tried to make out the figure hidden in the shadows. The steam from the bath swirled around them, obscuring their features, but you knew—someone was there. Watching. Waiting.

Slowly, you straightened, keeping your movements controlled, careful not to alert the guards.

“Who’s there?” you whispered, barely audible over the distant dripping of water.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, a figure stepped forward just enough for the torchlight to kiss their face.

Your breath hitched. Lucius. Standing before you in the bathhouse, when he should have been locked in a cell.

His face was gaunt, bruises shadowing his cheekbone, but his eyes, his eyes burned with the same fire you remembered from when you were children.

“How—?” you started, but he lifted a finger to his lips, silencing you.

“No time,” he murmured, voice barely above a breath. “Listen carefully. I don’t know how much longer I have.”

You stepped closer, heart hammering. “Are you hurt?”

He shook his head. “Not as bad as I could be. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is Acacius.”

His name sent a fresh wave of urgency through you. “What about him?”

Lucius’ jaw tightened. “He’s not meant to win tomorrow. It’s already decided. The match is a spectacle, but the outcome? Rigged.”

Ice flooded your veins.

“They plan to kill him?”

Lucius exhaled sharply. “Yes. And I’m supposed to be the one to do it.”

Your stomach twisted. “No. No, you can’t—”

“I know.” His voice was firm. “I won’t. But that doesn’t mean he’ll survive.”

Your thoughts spun wildly. Acacius. Lucius. The fight. The emperors watching with their smug, twisted pleasure. The weight of your mother’s words echoed in your head.

Power is taken, not given.

Your grip tightened around the golden pin.

“Then we have to change the game.”

Lucius studied you for a long moment. “Do you have a plan?”

You exhaled, your mind racing. “Not yet. But I will.”

Footsteps echoed down the corridor outside. The guards.

Lucius reached out, gripping your wrist. “Whatever happens, don’t trust them.” His voice dropped lower, urgent. “And don’t show them fear.”

Before you could respond, he disappeared back into the shadows, slipping away as if he had never been there at all.

The door creaked open.

“Time’s up,” the guard grunted.

You swallowed down the storm inside you and turned, your face a perfect mask of calm. But inside, you were already preparing for war.

Before you could react, a dull thud echoed through the bathhouse. One guard crumpled to the ground, then another.

Your breath hitched.

Lucius stood over them, his chest rising and falling rapidly, a stolen dagger in his grip. The flickering torchlight caught the sheen of sweat on his brow.

"We don’t have time," he said, voice rough but determined. He crouched, stripping one of the guards of his sword before glancing at you. "Can you run?"

You swallowed, your heart hammering. "Yes."

Without another word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you forward, stepping over the unconscious guards. You barely had time to gather yourself before you were moving, slipping through the darkened corridor, your bare feet light against the cold marble floor.

The palace was eerily quiet, the usual murmur of servants and the distant sound of music replaced by the weight of silence.

"How did you get out?" you whispered.

Lucius didn’t slow. "A friend."

"Who?"

He didn’t answer.

The two of you rounded a corner, and suddenly, footsteps echoed in the distance, too many.

Lucius cursed under his breath, yanking you into the shadows of an alcove. He pressed you against the cool stone, his breath warm against your ear.

"We can’t go through the main halls," he murmured. "They’ll be looking for me by now."

Your mind raced. The only other way out was through the servant tunnels, but even those weren’t safe.

“What about our mother?” you asked him, holding his hand tightly.

Lucius hesitated for a moment, his eyes flashing with something between frustration and worry. "I don’t know," he admitted, his voice low. "She’s probably already been locked down in the lower quarters. Geta won’t want her interfering."

Your heart clenched at the thought of your mother, vulnerable and trapped in the midst of all this madness.

“We can’t leave her here,” you said, your grip tightening around his hand. "We have to get to her, Lucius. She’s the only family we have left."

Lucius exhaled sharply, his eyes darting as he weighed your words. "I know," he muttered. "But going after her means we risk getting caught. If we’re captured..." He trailed off, the implication heavy between you.

You stood there for a moment, heart racing, your mind spinning with all the impossible choices before you. But then, a fire ignited in your chest. You couldn’t leave your mother behind.

"We don’t have to risk it alone," you said, your voice steadier than you felt. "Go to the rooms on the left, she is there. Take her out of here. You both know what you will do.”

Lucius’ expression hardened, eyes narrowing with a sharp edge. "What about you?”

You shook your head, your voice resolute. “I’ll entertain Geta”

Lucius’ gaze hardened as your words sank in. His grip on your hand tightened, his jaw clenched. “Entertain the emperors?” he repeated, voice full of disbelief. “You can’t be serious. You’ll be walking straight into their trap.”

You nodded, “I’m already part of it.” You paused for a second, “You don’t have to worry about me. Just get her to safety.” Your voice was firm, though inside, your heart was pounding, and every fiber of your being screamed at you to take another path, one that would keep you away from the lions' den. But there was no time for hesitation. “I know what I’m doing. This is the only way.”

Lucius hesitated, clearly torn. Then, with a heavy sigh, he let go of your hand and pulled you into a brief, tight hug. “Be careful,” he murmured, voice rough with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do if—” He stopped, clearly not wanting to finish the thought. He drew away, meeting your gaze one last time before turning sharply to head down the corridor.

You stood in the shadows for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest as the weight of what you were about to do settled upon you. You had made your decisión, now you had to see it through, no matter what.

With a steadying breath, you made your way toward Caracalla’s quarters. He was the more calculating of the two, and you knew he would respond to reason more than Geta ever would. He had his own ambitions, his own desire for power. If you could manipulate that just enough, you might be able to turn the tables.

As you approached his door, you steeled yourself. The guards at the entrance were easy enough to bypass, and soon you found yourself standing before Caracalla. He was lounging in his chair, a goblet of wine in hand, his expression as cold and distant as ever. The moment he saw you, his gaze narrowed.

“You have something to say?” His voice was sharp, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

You approached slowly, trying to control the tension that buzzed through your body. “Yes,” you said, your voice steady. “I need to speak with you.” You met his eyes, unflinching. “I know you’ve grown tired of Geta's games. His need to dominate, to manipulate.”

Caracalla raised an eyebrow but said nothing, clearly intrigued but cautious.

You pressed on. “He doesn’t care about strategy. He doesn’t see the bigger picture. But you do. You’ve always understood the importance of timing, of taking control at the right moment.” You took a step closer, lowering your voice. “You know he’s reckless. And reckless men are easily discarded when their use has expired.”

There was a long silence as Caracalla studied you, his eyes calculating, weighing your words. For a moment, you thought he might reject your attempt outright. But then, finally, he spoke.

“And what exactly are you proposing?” His voice was cold, but there was a flicker of interest.

You straightened, letting your gaze shift slightly, as if contemplating your next words. “You’re the best option for ruling this empire. I know how much you crave power. How you want to be the one in control, the one with the final say. Geta, in his arrogance, will only push you to the edge. And when he does, you will have no choice but to take him down.”

Caracalla was silent for a moment, but the tension in the room seemed to build. “And what do you expect in return?” His tone was low, but you could tell he was seriously considering it.

You held his gaze firmly. “In return? I want Acacius free. Geta’s influence gone. I want him out of the way, for good. You can have all the power you want. But you’ll need to move quickly before he gets his hands any deeper into the affairs of this empire.” You leaned in slightly, your voice low and persuasive. “You know I’m right.”

Caracalla’s expression softened for just a moment, his eyes gleaming with a dark, calculating glint. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” His lips curled slightly, and for a brief second, you saw a flicker of respect in his eyes. “I’ve been growing fond of you”

You made your way to Geta’s quarters, each step heavy with the knowledge that this confrontation could be your last. As you entered the room, Geta’s usual smirk was already in place, but when he saw your expression, it faltered, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“I see you’ve come to play, princess,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair as if the entire world belonged to him.

You met his gaze, not flinching. “I’ve come to ask for forgiveness, you began, your voice soft and almost apologetic, a contrast to the sharpness of your previous interactions. “I never wanted things to get this far. I never wanted to hurt you.” Your words were quiet, almost vulnerable. You could see the flicker of confusion in his eyes as he leaned forward, intrigued by the sudden shift in your demeanor.

“I know I’ve been... distant,” you continued, taking a tentative step closer. “I thought I could control everything, but I see now that I’ve underestimated you. I’ve made mistakes, and I’m sorry for that.” Your voice was sincere, and you made sure to let it carry a subtle warmth, as though you were finally acknowledging the bond that existed between you.

Geta’s expression shifted slightly, and for a brief moment, you could see the edge of doubt creeping into his eyes. He was a man of power, but even he wasn’t impervious to charm when it was carefully wielded.

“You’ve always been too proud,” you added, your voice lowering, seductive now, as you slowly closed the distance between you. “But I’ve always admired that about you, Geta. You’re strong. You’re confident. You don’t back down.”

His eyes darkened as you moved closer, his usual arrogance replaced by something else. You could feel his pulse quickening as you stood before him, inches apart. Without breaking eye contact, you gently placed your hand on his chest, pressing it lightly against his body.

“I never wanted to be your enemy,” you whispered, your lips so close to his that you could feel his breath on your skin. “But I’ve made a mess of everything. I think… maybe I’ve pushed you too far.”

Geta’s gaze flickered down to your lips for just a moment before he forced himself to meet your eyes again, his expression torn. “You think you can just... undo everything now?” His voice was rough, as if trying to hold onto some semblance of control.

You gave a small, almost shy smile, playing the part. “I think I can show you how sorry I am,” you murmured. Your hand moved from his chest to his neck, your fingers trailing just lightly along his jaw, feeling the tension irradiating from his body. “I think you’ll enjoy seeing how much.”

For a moment, there was a dangerous silence, the tension between you both crackling in the air. Geta seemed to hesitate, his eyes flickering with a mixture of anger, confusion, and something darker, something that made him lean just slightly closer.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into, princess,” he said, his voice low, but the sharp edge had softened.

“Maybe,” you breathed, your voice a near purr. “But maybe I like the danger. Maybe I like what you can give me.”

Your words hung in the air as you leaned closer, your lips brushing against his ear for a moment, your fingers sliding around to the back of his neck, drawing him closer. “You’re a powerful man, Geta. You’ve always been a temptation. But I’ve always kept my distance, haven’t I?” You stepped back slightly, your eyes never leaving his. “Maybe it’s time I stopped fighting what’s inevitable.”

The tension between you both was thick, and you could feel the heat of his body pressing against yours as you stood there, letting the silence linger. His hands twitched as if he wanted to reach for you, but for once, he seemed uncertain, caught between his fury and the allure of your presence.

With a final glance, you smiled softly, almost teasingly. “I think we both know what needs to happen next, don’t we?”

His breath caught, but before he could say anything more, you turned and walked away slowly, knowing that your manipulation had left its mark. You had planted the seeds of doubt in his mind, making him question his own control, and now you could leave with the upper hand.

As you left the room, you could feel the weight of the moment settling into your chest, but you couldn't afford to dwell on it. Every move you made had to be calculated; every word measured. The emperors might think they had you cornered, but you weren’t a mere pawn. You were playing a much deeper game.

The hallways were dim and silent as you made your way toward the courtyard, where Caracalla had instructed you to meet him. You weren’t sure what to expect, whether he would be angry, wary, or intrigued, but you knew you had to keep him on your side, at least for now.

When you finally reached the courtyard, Caracalla was waiting for you. His silhouette was outlined by the moonlight, the sharp features of his face giving little away. You could sense his attention on you the moment you stepped into the light, but he didn’t speak right away.

“You’ve done it,” he said after a long pause, his voice measured but with an edge that suggested both irritation and curiosity. “You’ve made your move. But it’s not enough, is it?”

You stepped closer, trying to read his mood. The air was thick with tension, but you forced yourself to stay calm.

“It’s never enough, Caracalla,” you replied, keeping your voice steady. “But it’s a start.” You paused just in front of him, letting the silence stretch between you. “You need to understand, this isn’t just about power. This is about survival. Mine. And Acacius’s. And Lucius’s.”

His gaze flickered, and for a moment, you could see something resembling hesitation in his eyes. But it quickly vanished, replaced by that impenetrable mask he wore so well.

“And what do you think Geta is going to do with you now?” Caracalla asked, his tone sharp. “Do you really believe you can play both sides like this?”

You didn’t flinch. “I’m not playing both sides,” you said softly. “I’m making sure I’m the one left standing when it’s all over.”

For a moment, he said nothing. But then, he stepped closer to you, his eyes dark with a mix of intrigue and something else—something dangerous. “And you think I’ll let you?”

You didn’t answer right away, letting the question linger. Instead, you took a slow step back, your gaze never leaving his. “You have your ambitions, Caracalla,” you said, voice quiet but filled with a quiet defiance. “And I have mine. But they don’t have to be at odds. Not if we work together.”

His jaw clenched as he took in your words. Then, without warning, he moved forward, closing the distance between you. His presence was suffocating, and for a moment, you wondered if he was going to strike, to remind you of who held the true power.

But instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing against the side of your cheek, his touch oddly gentle, almost tender. “You have a way with words,” he murmured, his voice low. “But words aren’t enough. Not in our world.”

You met his gaze, your breath shallow. “I know,” you whispered. “That’s why I’ll show you what I can do.”

For a long moment, there was nothing but the soft rustling of the leaves in the courtyard and the weight of his gaze on you. Then, slowly, Caracalla pulled away, his expression unreadable once more. “Tomorrow,” he said finally, his voice cold again, as if the moment had never happened. “You’ll see Geta fight. I’ll make sure he knows what happens if he tries to go against me. If you want your little games to continue, you’ll need to prove that you can keep up.”

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest, but you couldn’t let the fear show. “I understand.”

The next day came quickly, its early hours slipping by in a haze of preparations and quiet anticipation. The heat of the coming conflict simmered in the air, thick and oppressive. You knew the game that had been set in motion was dangerous, but you had to play it to the end. Caracalla’s intentions were clear, and though you had manipulated the situation in your favor for now, you couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing was ever truly as it seemed in their world.

Lucius and your mother were safe for the time being, hidden away, far from the reach of the emperors, that was you had been informed by one of the guards. That was one victory, one battle won. But Acacius was another matter entirely. You hadn’t forgotten what he meant to you, what he had come to represent in this fight for survival.

Caracalla had already informed you that Geta would be the one to face Acacius in the games, an outcome you’d been dreading since last night. He would send him to break Acacius, to make a spectacle. The thought of it made your blood boil, but you had no choice but to let the inevitable unfold. You could only make sure Acacius was prepared for whatever lay ahead.

You paced in the confines of your quarters, your mind heavy with the weight of the decisions you had made. There wasn’t much time, but you knew you needed to see Acacius before the games began. You couldn’t afford to let him go into that fight without your last words, your last chance to ensure that the fight was more than just for sport, it had to be for survival, for something more.

You didn’t waste a moment. Moving swiftly, you made your way to Caracalla’s chambers. The guards at the entrance stepped aside with only a glance, a quiet acknowledgment of your position. You’d never liked the power the emperors had over everything and everyone, but today you had the smallest sliver of it. You’d used it to gain access to Caracalla. Now, you had to use that same influence to see Acacius.

Caracalla sat in the large room, speaking with a few of his advisors, but when he saw you enter, his dark eyes locked onto yours. His presence was as commanding as ever, but there was a subtle change in the air, a shift that told you this conversation would be different. He dismissed his advisors with a wave of his hand, allowing you to speak freely.

"You have my permission to see him," Caracalla said, his voice as cold and calculating as it had been last night. "But make it quick. Geta won't wait much longer."

You nodded, hiding your relief behind a mask of composure. "Thank you," you said, though the words felt hollow. "I need to see Acacius before the games. Just for a moment."

Caracalla studied you for a moment longer, his gaze unreadable. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. His eyes were enough. You had been granted your time, but you knew it was temporary.

With a gesture, Caracalla motioned for the guards to allow you through. As you walked toward the door, you couldn’t shake the feeling that every step brought you closer to the edge of something, whether it would be your undoing or the end of your enemies, you couldn’t tell yet.

The path to Acacius’s cell was a familiar one, but today it seemed different. There was a heaviness in the air, a quiet tension that whispered of the inevitable. When you reached the small stone room, you found him there, sitting on the ground, his posture still and composed despite the grim circumstances.

He looked up when he heard your approach, his expression guarded, but when his eyes met yours, something flickered there, a recognition, a flash of something softer than the warrior you knew him to be.

“Acacius,” you whispered, stepping closer, your heart aching at the sight of him in chains.

You stepped closer to the bars, your breath steady despite the pounding of your heart. The weight of your words seemed to hang in the air between you and Acacius, but there was no time to let them settle. The guards were still stationed at the door, eyes narrowed, watchful. The tension in the air felt suffocating, the shadows of the coming battle creeping ever closer.

“I need a moment with him,” you said, your voice firm but quiet, the command beneath it unmistakable. "A private conversation."

The guards exchanged wary glances, clearly hesitant. One of them stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his eyes calculating. "Your Highness," he began, with a slight bow, “we are under strict orders. No one is to enter the cell."

You could feel the weight of Caracalla’s command behind him, but you weren’t going to let that stop you. You stood taller, a quiet authority radiating from you.

“I understand your orders,” you replied coolly. “But these are my orders now. I need to speak to him without interruption. And you’ll release him from those chains.”

The air seemed to freeze for a moment as the guards processed your demand. You could see the resistance flicker in their eyes, but there was something in the tone of your voice—something that made them hesitate. Your words carried more than just the weight of authority; they carried urgency.

Finally, the guard who had spoken stepped aside, signaling to the other two. "We will give you privacy, Your Highness," he said reluctantly. “But be quick."

You nodded in acknowledgment, but your eyes didn’t leave Acacius. As the guards unlocked the cell, your mind raced. There was no turning back now. Each moment was a calculated risk, but it was one you had to take.

The door creaked open, and the chains binding Acacius were undone, each link falling to the ground with a heavy thud. You moved inside, closing the door behind you, feeling the shift in the atmosphere as the last of the guards stepped out. Silence enveloped the two of you, the only sound the faint echo of the chains clinking to the stone floor.

Acacius stood, rubbing at his wrists where the chains had cut into his skin, though his expression was unreadable. You didn’t give him a chance to speak before you stepped closer, close enough that your breath was the only thing between the two of you.

“Your highness?” Acacius asked.

You looked into Acacius’s eyes, steady and unwavering. His words lingered in the air, but you couldn’t afford to hesitate, not now. “Not time for that now. I need you to listen carefully,” you said, your voice low, but urgent. "You will survive today, Acacius. You’re going to fight like you’ve never fought before. And you’re going to win. But you need to trust me—don’t make any moves unless I give you a signal.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, his brows furrowing in confusion, but there was an understanding there as well. He knew this wasn’t just a matter of survival for him, it was a game of strategy. A fight not just against Geta, but against everything that had led him here.

“What do you mean?" Acacius asked, his voice steady despite the uncertainty. He stood tall, but there was a flicker of concern in his eyes as he searched yours for an answer.

You leaned in closer, making sure no one else could hear. "What I mean is that today isn’t just about strength. It’s about timing. You’ve got to let Geta believe he’s winning, that he has you cornered. Don’t resist. Make him think you’re weaker than you are."

His jaw clenched, his muscles tensing at the thought. "So, you want me to let him hurt me?" There was a bitterness in his words, as if the very idea of allowing Geta to have the upper hand was an affront to his honor.

"No," you said quickly, your voice firm, but soothing. "I’m not asking you to let him hurt you. I’m asking you to pretend—to make him think he has control, just long enough for me to get him into position."

He studied you, his expression hard, as if measuring your resolve. "And when you give me the signal?"

"Then you strike, and you strike hard," you replied, your gaze unwavering. "You’ve trained for this, Acacius. You know what to do. I’ll make sure Geta’s off balance, but you have to trust that it will work. We need him to underestimate you, to believe you’re on the edge. And when he does, that’s when we end this. I sent him into this to end his ruling."

A long moment passed, the tension between you both thickening. Finally, Acacius gave a slight nod. “Alright,” he said, his voice low but resolute.

“I love you so much,” you whispered, your voice trembling just slightly as you caressed his face. “I would move the entire empire just to save you, Acacius.”

For a split second, he closed his eyes, as if savoring the words. When he opened them again, the intensity of his gaze made your heart race. His hand moved to cover yours, pressing your palm more firmly against his cheek, his touch gentle but unyielding.

“You’ve already moved it,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve done more than anyone could ask. You’re willing to risk everything... for me.”

You nodded, the weight of your words hanging heavily between you. “I’m not just doing this for you, Acacius,” you whispered, your eyes locking onto his. “I’m doing this for us. For what we could have if we survive this. For the world that we could build together.”

His expression hardened again, resolve flooding his features. “For the peace.”

You allowed yourself a small, sad smile, and in that moment, it felt as though the rest of the world disappeared. There were no emperors, no politics, no games to be played—just the two of you, suspended in this fragile moment before everything erupted.

Acacius moved toward you, his hand cupping the back of your neck as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with a softness that contrasted with the storm building inside both of you. For a heartbeat, the world around you ceased to exist. The only thing that mattered was the warmth of his lips, the pressure of his kiss, and the silent promise it carried.

It was a kiss of longing, of desperation, of hope—for a future that seemed more distant with every passing second. You kissed him back, your heart racing, knowing this might be the last moment you could share like this. The intensity of his touch deepened, his arms pulling you closer, as if holding on to this fleeting time, not wanting to let go.

But the moment was short-lived.

The sound of the guards’ footsteps echoed down the hall, and a voice called through the door, sharp and commanding. "It’s time. You must go."

Reluctantly, you pulled away from him, your forehead resting against his for a fleeting moment, feeling the heat of his breath mingling with yours. The silence that followed was deafening.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Acacius gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, his expression hardening once again with the weight of what was to come. “I’ll make it through. I’ll make sure of it.”

The door opened, and the guards stepped in, ushering you out of the cell. You cast one last look at Acacius, his figure standing strong, determined. A part of you wanted to stay, to fight beside him, but you knew you had to leave. He would fight for both of you now.

As the door shut behind you, the cold reality of what was about to unfold settled in. Your heart raced, but there was nothing more you could do but wait—wait for the signal, wait for the moment that would change everything.

+++++++++++++++++++

You sat beside Caracalla in the imperial box, your body tense, but you masked it with an air of calm. The arena below was alive with anticipation, the roar of the crowd echoing against the stone walls. Gladiators in the far corners were preparing, and the bloodlust in the air was palpable.

Caracalla, ever the showman, glanced over at you with a smile, as if to reassure himself of the spectacle unfolding. “Where is my brother?” he asked, his tone casual, almost playful.

You blinked, surprised by his question, your brow furrowing. What did he mean? You tried to mask your confusion but couldn't quite conceal it from your expression.

"Your brother?" you echoed, your voice uncertain.

Caracalla’s smile grew wider, but you noticed a flicker of confusion cross his face, like he didn’t quite understand your puzzlement. Had he forgotten? Did he not realize what he'd done?

Before you could react further, everything clicked into place. The moment you registered the tension building in the crowd below, the realization hit you: Caracalla didn’t know.

It wasn’t until the gate opened, and Acacius was led into the arena, dressed in his war attire, as he walked with his sword. His eyes scanned the crowd, but he didn’t look up to the imperial box. His focus was entirely on the upcoming fight, the fire in his gaze unmistakable.

And then, the announcer’s voice boomed, “And now, Emperor Carcalla!”

A stunned silence fell over the arena for a moment. You barely had time to process it before Caracalla’s face contorted with disbelief. His eyes widened, and his hand instinctively gripped the edge of the box as he turned toward you.

“Why is my brother there?” he demanded, his voice tight with anger, his smile replaced by a furrowed brow of confusion and rage.

You could see his shock, his inability to comprehend the situation, but your mind was racing. He didn’t understand the depths of his own manipulation. He hadn’t realized that Geta, his own brother, had been sent to fight against Acacius in the arena. The confusion in his voice was genuine.

For a moment, your heart ached for the twisted, tangled web of family dynamics that had led to this point. But you quickly masked any emotion behind a cold facade. This was the moment to play your part, to keep Caracalla off balance, to use his lack of awareness against him.

You leaned slightly closer to him, your voice steady but carrying a subtle undercurrent of disdain. "It seems, your brother is a contender today. Perhaps... he believes this fight is what will prove his worth." You kept your gaze focused on him, even as Acacius and Geta moved into position.

Caracalla’s expression darkened, and his fingers drummed anxiously against the stone. He looked away, eyes flicking between Geta and Acacius, but it was clear that the shock still hadn’t worn off.

"What trickery is this?" he muttered, barely audible.

"Maybe you should ask him," you said, your voice soft but dripping with subtle irony. "Perhaps your brother has his own plans for you today."

You knew your words were like sharp daggers aimed at his pride, pricking at the cracks in his confidence, feeding his uncertainty. He was starting to realize the weight of his own decisions, and that would make him falter.

The crowd below erupted in excitement as the fight began, but Caracalla remained still, his gaze locked on the two fighters below. You could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind, but it was too late for him to turn back now.

The clash of steel against steel rang out across the arena as the fight began, the crowd’s roar escalating to a deafening level. Acacius and Geta were face to face, the tension between them thickening with every passing second.

Acacius stood tall, his posture unwavering, his eyes fixed on Geta with an intensity that could pierce stone. Geta, in contrast, paced in a circle, a cocky smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, the same arrogance you had come to expect from him. He moved with the grace of a seasoned fighter, but there was something in his eyes—something in the way he held himself—that told you he was distracted, uncertain. Perhaps, even now, he was wondering how it had come to this.

"Fight!" The command echoed through the arena, and in that instant, Acacius lunged forward, his blade flashing in the sunlight.

Geta parried the attack with a swift movement, his own weapon raised to meet the strike. Their swords clanged with an explosive sound, a shower of sparks flying from the impact. The crowd roared in approval, the excitement building, but the true fight hadn’t even begun yet. This was just the warm-up.

You watched intently, your heart hammering in your chest as you kept a careful eye on Caracalla, who still seemed to be in a daze, his mind reeling with confusion. He kept glancing down at the fighters below, his brow furrowed, but you knew better than to let him gain control of the situation now.

Acacius pushed forward again, pressing Geta against the edge of the arena. With each strike, it became clear that Acacius was holding back, waiting for the right moment, waiting for your signal. Geta, on the other hand, was using his usual tactics—aiming for the kill, striking hard and fast—but the uncertainty in his movements was starting to show. He had expected a much different fight.

Then, as if on cue, Acacius took a step back, creating a brief opening. Geta lunged, taking the bait.

That was the moment.

You stood, your eyes locked with Caracalla’s for a brief second. His gaze was still filled with uncertainty, his mind a tangled mess of thoughts. In that instant, you gave Acacius the smallest of nods—almost imperceptible.

And with that signal, everything shifted.

Acacius moved with the speed of a predator, his blade slicing through the air. In one fluid motion, he disarmed Geta, knocking his sword to the ground with a clean strike. Geta stumbled back, the shock in his eyes unmistakable. Acacius pressed the advantage, stepping forward, the tip of his sword now at Geta’s throat.

The crowd fell silent. Caracalla’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening slightly, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He hadn’t expected Acacius to come out on top, especially not in such a dominating fashion.

You could feel Caracalla’s gaze shift to you, the realization dawning on him. But you couldn’t afford to let him focus on you now. Your heart was racing as you kept your attention fixed on Acacius, whose eyes met yours across the arena. His expression was unreadable, but you could see the fire burning in them. The fight wasn’t just about survival anymore, it was about ending the twisted reign that had kept you all captive of two tyrants for so long.

Geta, panting and defeated, raised his hands in surrender, his arrogance shattered, replaced by a growing sense of fear. “Enough!” he spat, his voice raw with anger and humiliation.

Acacius didn’t hesitate. He kicked Geta’s sword away, keeping his own blade raised. “Not until your brother orders you to stop,” he said, his voice cold, his eyes dark with intent.

The crowd kept roaring with excitement, their anticipation rising with every swing of the sword. But it was clear from the start that the fight was not as one-sided as Caracalla had hoped.

Geta, though skilled, was rattled. His gaze flicked nervously around the arena, and it wasn’t long before Acacius used that to his advantage. He was methodical, his every move calculated, his body a machine of precision. Geta, on the other hand, fought with desperation, his movements growing more erratic as the match wore on.

The crowd cheered, sensing the change in momentum. Acacius pressed forward with relentless force, his sword gleaming under the sun, his eyes fixed on Geta with a cold, calculated determination. He didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate, and with each strike, Geta’s defenses crumbled.

"Come on, brother” Caracalla muttered under his breath, his hands clenched tightly, his eyes never leaving the battle below. But it was clear now, he was no longer just watching his brother. His gaze had shifted, filled with uncertainty, even fear. The fight was slipping from Geta’s control.

Acacius feinted to the left, and Geta, unable to maintain his focus, took the bait. In an instant, Acacius closed the distance between them. He was fast, too fast. With one swift, brutal strike, Acacius plunged his sword deep into Geta’s side. The blade cut through flesh with a sickening sound, and Geta stumbled back, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

The crowd went quiet. You could hear the sound of Geta’s armor scraping against the stone floor as he tried to regain his balance, but it was clear that the wound was fatal. Blood poured from the gash in his side, staining the sand beneath him a deep crimson.

Geta dropped to his knees, his face pale and stricken with disbelief. He looked up at the sky, his chest rising and falling in desperate, shallow breaths.

Caracalla’s face went pale. He stood frozen, his expression blank, his mind seemingly unable to process what had just happened. The battle was over, but the ramifications were far from clear.

“No!” Caracalla roared, his voice full of disbelief as he reached forward, as if trying to pull Geta back from the brink, but there was nothing he could do. His brother’s fate had already been sealed.

Acacius stood over Geta; his sword raised in a victorious yet solemn pose. His chest heaved with exertion, but his expression was unreadable. He didn’t gloat. He didn’t revel in the moment. He simply waited.

Geta’s eyes flickered for a moment, his last breath trembling in the air. With a final, strained sigh, he slumped forward, lifeless, collapsing onto the blood-stained sand.

The crowd remained silent for a heartbeat, then erupted in both shock and disbelief. Caracalla’s rage began to boil over, his face twisted in fury, his fists clenching. He couldn’t accept it—his brother, gone. He had underestimated Acacius, and now Geta was dead because of it.

You, standing beside Caracalla, watched the scene unfold before you. The roar of the crowd felt distant, as though muffled by the weight of what had just transpired. You knew this was only the beginning. Geta’s death had set the stage for something far greater, something that would shift the power in the empire forever. And now, with Geta gone, there was no turning back.

Acacius gaze found yours from the arena and you could see his relief at seeing you well.

But Caracalla’s eyes flicked to you, his anger now directed at you. “What have you done?” he spat, his voice full of venom.

But you held your ground, a quiet smirk curling on your lips. “I didn’t do anything. Your brother... he was just too weak.” You kept your voice steady, but inside, your heart raced. It was the perfect moment. The empire had just taken its first step into chaos.

Caracalla’s fury was palpable, his hand gripping your arm with a vice-like force. His eyes, wide with disbelief and anger, burned into you as he pulled you closer, his breath ragged and hot against your skin.

“What did you do?” he hissed, his voice low, dripping with venom. His grip tightened, digging into your flesh as if he could squeeze the answer out of you.

You didn’t flinch. You stood firm, despite the storm of emotions swirling around you—fear, anger, and the unrelenting cold that had settled in your chest. You had done what needed to be done.

“I did what you couldn’t,” you said, your voice steady, unwavering. “I set you free from a weak brother who would’ve only held you back.”

Caracalla’s face contorted with rage. His fist tightened around your arm, his eyes flashing with betrayal. “You think you’ve won, don’t you?” He sneered, dragging you towards the imperial box.

His hand left your arm, and in the blink of an eye, he seized a sword from one of the guards. The cold metal gleamed under the harsh sunlight, but it was the look in Caracalla’s eyes that made your blood run cold.

With a swift, practiced motion, he drew the blade, the sharp edge glinting dangerously. “You were always a threat. A thorn on his side.”

Before you could take a breath, before you could utter another word, he swung the sword. It moved with lightning speed, slicing through the air in a deadly arc.

Pain exploded through your chest as the cold steel bit into your skin, your vision blurring as warmth spread through your body. You gasped, the shock of the wound seizing you, and your knees buckled beneath you.

Caracalla’s eyes remained cold, as if he had already made his peace with your death. He stood over you, breathing heavily, watching as you crumpled to the ground. The sword was still in his hand, blood dripping from its blade, but he didn’t care. You had played your part, and now, you were gone.

The crowd fell silent in an instant, the air thick with shock and disbelief. Gasps echoed through the arena, a collective breath held as they watched the scene unfold before their eyes. The sword, gleaming with your blood, still hung in Caracalla’s hand as he stood there, as if unaware of the magnitude of what he had just done.

Acacius, his heart pounding in his chest, stood frozen at the center of the arena. His eyes locked onto you, on the ground beneath Caracalla’s cruel grip, your lifeless form crumpled and bloodied. His body went cold, every instinct within him screaming at him to run, to save you—but it was too late.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn't think as his legs propelled him forward, his body moving with a speed driven by a desperation he had never known. The guards tried to stop him, to grab hold of him as he surged forward, but Acacius was a force of nature, pushing them aside with a strength born from pure rage and sorrow.

He reached the imperial box in moments, his breath ragged, his eyes fixed on you. His heart shattered as he saw the blood pooling beneath you, the gash in your chest widening with each breath you hadn’t taken.

"No," Acacius whispered, voice breaking, as he knelt beside you, his hands shaking as he reached out to you. His fingers gently brushed your face, his touch tentative, as if he was afraid that if he touched you too hard, you would vanish entirely.

He didn’t notice the guards closing in on Caracalla, nor the soldiers who were grabbing hold of the emperor, taking him into custody. All that mattered in that moment was you. He had failed you, and now he couldn’t even protect your body from the cruelty of the world.

“No, no, no...” he muttered over and over, his hands trembling as they cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your still warm skin. His heart screamed for you to wake up, for the impossible to happen, for you to rise from the blood-soaked ground and tell him everything would be okay.

Acacius’ heart skipped a beat when he saw the faint flutter of your eyes. It was barely a movement, a breath, but it was enough. His hands, shaking with a mixture of disbelief and hope, hovered over you. His breath was shallow, as if the very air he needed to breathe was escaping him.

“You’re alive,” he whispered, barely able to speak the words, as if saying it out loud might break the fragile thread that tethered you to life.

Your eyes flickered again, barely open, and Acacius leaned in closer, his voice urgent but tender. “Please, don’t go. I’m here. You’re going to be alright. I won’t let go.”

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, and all you could manage was a weak breath, the pain too overwhelming to let anything more escape.

Acacius’ hand gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing the bloodstained skin. “Don’t speak,” he said, his voice breaking, “I’m here. Stay with me.”

For a moment, there was a silence, as if the world had paused for you both, everything hanging in the balance. He could feel your pulse, faint and fragile under his touch, but it was still there. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

"Please," he pleaded softly, "hold on." His own voice cracked, revealing just how much this moment meant to him, how much you meant to him.

But the sounds of chaos in the arena—the shouts of the crowd, the clattering of armor, the commands being shouted in the distance—began to creep into his awareness again. Yet, all of that faded as he focused on you, his entire being centered on you, praying you would survive this, that you would come back from the edge of death.

"Please," he whispered again, his voice hoarse, the weight of everything crashing down on him as he pressed his forehead gently against yours. "I can’t lose you. Not after we had reached the peace”

A weak, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of your lips, but it was fleeting. Your hand, trembling with the last of your strength, reached up to touch his face, tracing the lines of his jaw, the warmth of his skin still so vivid beneath your fingertips.

“I’ll find you in another life, my love,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, the words barely escaping your lips as the darkness began to close in once more.

Tears slipped from your eyes, falling silently, tracing paths down your bloodied cheeks as you gazed up at him. The connection between you, the deep, undeniable bond that had been forged in fire, in pain, in love, and in loss, seemed to transcend time itself in that moment.

Acacius’ breath hitched, his chest tightening painfully as your words echoed in his ears. “No,” he rasped, voice breaking, unable to accept what you were saying. His hands held you tighter, though he feared it was already too late. “No… don’t leave me.”

But as your hand slipped from his, your eyes flickering closed, the silence enveloped you both. His world went still as the final breath left your body, the warmth of your skin fading away as he clutched you to him, his tears falling like rain over your still form.

A deep, guttural sound, a mixture of grief and fury, tore from his throat as he collapsed beside you, holding you desperately, unwilling to believe that this was the end. That he could never hear your voice again, never feel the soft touch of your hand, never look into your eyes.

The arena around them seemed distant now, the chaos of the crowd, the voices, the noise, all irrelevant. All that mattered was that you were gone. His heart, his world, his very reason for fighting, slipping away from him like sand through his fingers.

Acacius' voice cracked with the weight of his grief as he spoke, his words coming out barely above a whisper. "There is no more battle to fight for me if you're not here. You were my heart, and I… I would sail to the ends of the world to have—" His voice faltered, his throat tightening as his emotions overwhelmed him. "To have one chance to meet you again, properly, to love you from the very first time."

He pressed his lips to your cold forehead, the gesture full of longing and heartbreak. His tears fell freely, mingling with the blood that stained your skin. The kiss was tender, full of unspoken promises, but it shattered him all the same. The reality of your absence, the knowledge that he would never hear your voice again, felt like a suffocating weight.

"In every life I have, I'll find you," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion, "and I will love you as you deserve. I will give you everything I couldn’t in this one."

He held you tighter, unwilling to let go, his tears slipping from his eyes like a river of sorrow, each one a silent testament to the love that would never be. Time seemed to stand still, the world around him forgotten, as all he could do was hold you in the only way he knew how: with everything he had left in him.

There was no more fight for him now. The greatest battle of his life had already been lost, and all he could do was mourn the one person who had meant everything to him, the one person who had brought him hope in a world that had long since taken it away.

Gods were never kind with lovers like you.

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

The familiar scent of lavender surrounded you like a soft embrace, calming the flutter in your chest, even though you couldn’t explain why it stirred something deep inside. It wasn’t the fragrance, but the memories that seemed to follow it. Memories that were not of this life, not of anything you could recall with certainty, but they lingered nonetheless. They whispered to you, pulling you toward something you couldn’t grasp, something you could only feel in the deepest part of your soul. A pair of soft brown eyes. Outlines of a face you could trace with your fingertips in your dreams.

You tried to brush it off, shaking your head slightly as you adjusted the strap of your bag. It was the first day at your new job as a history teacher, and the nerves felt foreign. You had been a teacher for four years, passionate about sharing the stories of ancient civilizations, especially the Roman Empire. This should have been just another day, just another classroom to walk into. But there was something about this place, this school, that felt different.

You didn’t know why, but the air felt thicker here. More intense. As you approached the school gates, the nervousness you had tried to push away returned tenfold. Maybe it was the significance of this particular position, teaching alongside one of the most respected history instructors in the field. Maybe it was because you hadn’t yet had the chance to meet Marcus, though his reputation preceded him. Maybe you just couldn’t shake the feeling that something extraordinary was about to unfold.

As you walked through the doors of the school, the familiar hum of the hallways didn’t bring comfort as it usually did. The sound of students laughing, chatting, running to their classes felt distant. You couldn’t shake the sensation of déjà vu, the feeling that you had been here before. A quiet whisper lingered in the back of your mind, telling you this was no ordinary beginning.

When you finally reached the staff room, you saw him. The history teacher. Standing by the window, lost in thought, his gaze distant as though the present world couldn’t quite hold his attention. His brown eyes were the first thing you noticed, the way they were so soft, yet intense, as if they could peer into the very heart of you. And then it hit you, the lavender. The sweet, calming fragrance that seemed to fill the room. It was unmistakable.

You froze for a moment, unsure if you had walked into a dream, or if the universe had suddenly conspired to bring you face-to-face with something from another life, something that shouldn’t have been possible.

For a moment, everything seemed to slow down around you. The noise from the hallway, the faint murmurs of colleagues gathering elsewhere, all of it faded into the background. The air felt heavier, charged with an energy you couldn’t quite explain. Your heart raced, as though you were on the precipice of something monumental, something that had been building in the quiet spaces of your soul for far too long.

You knew him. You didn’t know how, but you knew him. The pull was undeniable, like an invisible thread connecting the two of you through time and space, tying you to a past that seemed just out of reach. Your pulse quickened as your eyes met his.

His gaze flickered to yours, and it was as if the world came rushing back into focus all at once. He blinked once, then twice, his expression unreadable, but there was something there—an emotion that caught in his chest. Recognition. But also confusion, as though he was just as unsure as you were about why this moment felt so familiar, so intense.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. He was already walking toward you, his steps slow, deliberate. His presence was overwhelming, like a force that commanded attention without even trying. As he approached, the lavender scent seemed to grow stronger, and for a moment, it felt like you were standing in the midst of a memory, a memory that was somehow yours, yet not.

“You must be the new teacher,” he said, his voice low but steady, as though he was trying to ground himself in the present moment, as if saying those words could dispel the strange tension that hummed between you. “I’m Marcus. Welcome.”

Your throat tightened, and you had to force the words out. “I’m… yes. I’m the new Roman history teacher.” Your voice sounded foreign to your own ears. How could you have forgotten to introduce yourself first, to speak like a normal person? But the words felt inadequate in the face of what was happening. You were supposed to be teaching history. You were supposed to be starting a new chapter in your life. But standing before him now, none of it mattered.

The silence stretched between you both, filled only with the hum of distant voices in the hallway and the soft rustling of papers on the desks. But it felt like more than that. It felt like the silence before a storm, before everything would change.

For a moment, Marcus didn’t speak, and you couldn’t tell whether he was waiting for you to say something, or if he was lost in the same strange feeling that you were. The air around you seemed thick with something unspoken, a connection you couldn’t quite understand, but it was there, undeniable and present.

“I don’t suppose you’re feeling this,” he said after a moment, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It was a tentative smile, as if he, too, was struggling with what was unfolding between you.

“I don’t know what this is,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I think… I think I’ve met you before.”

His eyes widened slightly, and his expression shifted, though it was brief. The smallest flicker of recognition flashed across his face, but it was gone before you could fully grasp it.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice softer now. “Maybe we have.”

In that moment, the world outside the staff room seemed to fade away. It was just the two of you, standing in the quiet of the room, surrounded by the weight of something far older than either of you. You both stood on the edge of something, and neither of you knew what would happen next.

But you both felt it. The undeniable pull that connected your souls, the inexplicable bond that no words could explain. His eyes softened, a mixture of surprise and something deeper flashing in them. He didn’t say anything more, but in that moment, you knew, you weren’t just colleagues. You weren’t just two people thrown together by fate. There was a bond here. Something ancient. And no matter how many lifetimes had passed, this connection, this feeling, had never truly gone away.

As the rest of the staff filtered into the room, the moment passed, but neither of you could forget it. You went on to introduce yourself, to go over the basics of the course. But all the while, you could feel his presence beside you, like a shadow, a whisper of the past. You weren’t just teaching history anymore. You were living it. And you both knew it would only be a matter of time before everything else fell into place.

Tags💌: @picketniffler @sptbear @heartpatch @immyowndefender @nobodyssfool @behomewhenthestreetlightscomeon @idkwhylou @jasminedragoon @ro-nahime-things @hduuc56 @mamustreads @itsafullmoon @tuquoquebrute @ccmoonshine @fvispunk @here-briefly @elisha-chloe @geekandbooknerd @guelyury @dlwrish @legoemma @scrappyskin @orcasoul @kluvspedro @onlythehobi @stormseyer @spideybv28 @spacelatinos4life @hduuc56 @foledean @negrita2345 @capswife @missadangel @spencercmlover @leahwwinchester @areyoutheretoru @nosebeers @discowitchyy

You had met before. And now, you were meant to find each other again in this life.

in this life, Gods would be kind to lovers like you.

#marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius x f!reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x reader #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius fic #marcus acacius #gladiator 2 fic #gladiator 2 #gladiator 2 fanfiction #pedro pascal #marcus acacius smut #general acacius x you #general acacius

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leighsartworks216 · 3 days ago

Text

Birdcage

Sylus x gn!Reader

Sequel to My Pretty Bird

Fucking love Mephisto!Reader so much I love being a silly little bird in the arms of a big ol man

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, kidnapping, swearing, smoking, rescue

Word Count: 1,234

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You squawk and screech and make all sorts of sounds. Your wings beat relentlessly against steel bars, padlocked firmly shut. A man hits the cage with the butt of his gun. It swings back and forth, knocking you off balance.

"And why can we just shoot this damn thing?" the man asks. He glares at you. You stare right back, cawing indignantly in his face. He hits the cage again. "It's so fucking annoying!"

Another man in the room laughs. Smoke sifts through his teeth, drifting lazily through the air. "Don't tell me you're gonna let a bird get under your skin."

The first man covers your cage with a heavy cloth. It doesn't do much to quiet you and you beat more defiantly against the bars, but at least he doesn't have to look at you.

"Crows are smart birds, you know. You give them an inch, they'll take a mile," the smoker says. "It probably likes annoying you cuz you're making such a fuss."

"It doesn't annoy you?"

"Hmph. I have three sisters - I'm used to it."

The dark doesn't mean much when you have night vision, but night vision doesn't mean much when there's nothing to look at. Everywhere you turn: bars and nothing beyond. And there's nothing you can do on your own to get out of it. Code-based locks are easy enough to break, but a key-lock? You're shit out of luck. Still, you peck at it restlessly, without thought of if it would work or not.

You sent out the beacon a while ago. Sylus still isn't here. Unsurprising, given he was all the way in Linkon and you're halfway across the N109 Zone in some other fool's territory (intel-hunting, as it were). From what you gather, they have no idea who you belong to. The idea that the leader of Onychinus could come here is an utter impossibility in their minds. You just hope he'll be here soon.

You hear the click of a door opening and heavy boots entering the room. "I didn't even need to ask for directions," a new voice jokes, "I could hear it all the way in my lab."

Lab?

"Thank fuck you're here, doc. It's giving me a headache. Can't you shut it up?"

"Without damaging it," the smoker reminds them. "The boss wants to know how it's built."

The new person laughs. You try clawing through the bars at the cloth, with no luck. That voice, that laugh - it unsettles you.

"If what you described is true, I'd hate to damage it." The heavy boots walk closer. "Can I...?"

The first man hmphs. "Go ahead, doc, I won't stop ya."

The cloth is removed without ceremony. A face stares at you through the bars. A gaunt woman with an unsettlingly wide smile, eyes obscured by thick goggles. She gasps in pleasant surprise as she sees you.

You scream in her face, flap futilely in your little cage to try getting away. It's the only thought you have - you have to get away.

She chuckles lowly. "You're still as spirited as ever, I see."

The jagged, jolting sound of electricity registers milliseconds before it touches the cage. It travels through the path of least resistance: from the taser she holds, through the steel bars of the cage, and into you. The best way to describe the sensation is like waking up from anesthesia, except the "waking up" comes from your synthetic heart and mind being temporarily stopped. Your wings feel numb and uncoordinated. You can't stand, falling weakly to the cage floor. Your eyes see, but nothing processes.

She hums, satisfied. "Where did you say you found it?" she asks the men.

The smoker is the one to answer. The first man is too busy staring with gleaming eyes at your new silence. "It was slinking around the market. Don't know what for yet."

"Probably just looking for something shiny to bring back home." She pokes your body through the bars. You jolt away, tripping over your own feet in the process, feathers on end. "Isn't that right? Where do you consider home now, I wonder."

"Doctor?" the smoker interrupts. "Have you met it before?"

She giggles, louder as you manage to make a pitiful sort of sound. "I was there when they created it. I even helped out here and there. It's a remarkable piece of technology, but it's incredibly difficult - if not impossible - to reproduce."

"It's a machine, right? Can't you just wipe its memory, like a computer?" the first man asks.

"I'd hate to erase so much valuable data." She pushes the cage, stepping away as you go round and round. Your head spins. You squawk indignantly. "Where's your boss? I need to discuss price-"

The door clicks open again. She gawks up at the man who enters. His red eyes glare intensely into her.

It's a mess, after that. You manage to face the action, trying to record it to rewatch later, but actually keeping up with it in the moment is tricky.

From what you do pick up on, the two men opened fire on the intruder. Sylus's Evol was able to stop some of the bullets, too worn and weary to have any chance of catching them all. One hits his shoulder, distracting him just long enough from the doctor. There one moment, she seems to disappear the next. She's not gone - not at first. But Sylus is shoved aside in his moment of weakness and the door swings loose on its hinges, her heavy boots receding into the distance beneath the crossfire.

Two quick shots from a pistol end the fight.

He grunts, holding his shoulder as he looks down the hall. You don't know if he would have chased after her. That's a question that won't be answered perhaps for a lifetime, because your soft cawing draws him back to you.

Tucking his gun into its holster, he crosses the room to you. You stumble and trip trying to stand on your feet to meet him. Despite the situation, his lips curve into a slight grin, glad to see you again and with your same persistence.

The padlock clicks open. You nearly fall through the door and to the ground in your excitement, but he catches you, holding you securely against his chest. The blood on his hand stains your feathers. You start emitting a strange sort of purr, picking at his hand in an odd form of preening.

"What did she do to you, hm?" He idly scratches under your chin as he steps over an outstretched arm and into the hallway. He looks down the way, seeking any traces of the woman left behind without any luck. It aches deep within, reignites a fire that never truly went out, as he turns and heads for the back exit he came in through. "Sleep. I'll wake you when we're back home."

You nibble at a callous on his finger. He truly thinks you'll be a stubborn little thing and refuse, staying awake until he gets you home where he can get you fixed up. Fortunately, you relent. You tuck your beak into his hand, hiding away from the world. It's not long after that your feathers fluff slightly and you fall asleep in his arms.

He'll find that bastard one day. And he'll make her pay for everything she did to you.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red

#fanfic #fanfiction #sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader

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arrowthrewme · 2 days ago

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Hello! Once again, I cannot believe that my three characters have been loved by so many people (or that I've already gained 20 something followers!!!) thank you <33

WARNING: Yandere behaviour, male reader intended

Green Green Dress

Yan Jock, who you meet during his practice. You volenteered to bring water to the school's rugby team. He was the team's leader, praising the team for their hard work.

Yan Jock, who stops dead in his tracks when he sees you. He swears he felt his heart stop and start in one second. It was weird...

Yan Jock, who introduces himself soothly ("Stephen at your service, delivery boy ;)") all while his heart beats inside his heart like war drum

Yan Jock, who, from that day on, invites you to his table and sits next to you during lunch (you sadly don't share any classes). He chats to you about practice, his friends and family and whatever else he finds interesting enough

Yan Jock, who you form a friendship with! Well, at least that's how you view it. Stephen views it as a challenge and a punishment. No boy should look so attractive! So why do his eyes wander your body like he does the girls in the school...?

Yan Jock, who is just a dumb little buffed up puppy who is realising that maybe the way he looks at muscular men isn't fully platonic

Yan Jock, who, as you get closer, starts to treat you like he did the past girls he's dated. Giving you his jersey, putting his arm around your shoulders, asking for a good luck hug (it's supposed to be a kiss, but he can't :c)

Yan Jock, who really loves dancing. It's a basically fun exercise. He's not good in the professional sense, but he's still good! (100% asks you to dance when you two start dating, maybe even before)

Yan Jock, who glares dagers at anyone who approaches you with romantic intent (mind you, everything that isn't formal is considered romantic intent by him) before wrapping his arm around you and kindly (threatiningly) tells the other person to fuck off.

Yan Jock, who isn't above punching the person, but doesn't want you to be mad at him

Yan Jock, who melts when you two finally kiss. It wasn't at a big moment. No big game. No party. Just you two walking around your hometown. He leaned down to hear you better and you had enough of the dancing around he's been doing for months and kissed him. Safe to say he will be asking for kisses every day (he's not taking no for an answer)

Yan Jock, who physically holds you back from going somewhere. He's stronger than you. A lot stronger. So when he doesn't want you going somewhere, he will throw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and happily skip away to cuddle under the bleachers. Stephen is the type of partner who asks to come with you to the bathroom

Yan Jock, who hates when someone yells at him or expresses their disappointment. He can't handle it. Stephen has been the "Golden boy" for so long. He can't lose that. So, if you ever want him to let go of you just use that! Don't worry, a little kiss on the lips will cheer the jock right up!

Yan Jock, who has the most perfect ass. Some of the girls at your school are jealous. And some guys question their sexualities because of it. And you? Oh, you're enjoying the whole damn bakery every day (not like Stephen minds)

Yan Jock, who, when meeting your parents, acts all anxious and worried, but that doesn't last long. 10 minutes later, he is talking with your dad about all types of sports while complimenting your mother's decor choices. He knocks it out of the park! You knew he would! (Stephen is definitely asking your dad for your hand in marriage. That's not negotiable for him.)

Yan Jock, who daydreams about having the picture-perfect family with you after school. White picket fence, a good home in a friendly neighbourhood with a huge backyard where your two kids and dog can run around in. Oh, it's the dream!

Yan Jock, who will carry you through life. He's trained all his life!...If only that emo nerd you insist on being friends with would just piss off already, then it would all be perfect...

#male reader #original character #soft yandere #x male reader #yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x male reader #yandere x reader #yandere x gn reader #jock yandere #jock character

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dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth · 2 days ago

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I'm only 25 rn, but I wasn't supposed to make it this far, and it damn well doesn't feel like I was gonna to begin with. I was supposed to get open heart surgery at 2 years old, I had a whole slew of health issues that required a ton of monitoring by some of the best doctors in the state, and legitimately my parents accepted that I might not make it before I was even born and they had genetic tests done to figure out what was happening. Hell, for fucks sake I was premature and dangerously so. I almost choked to death on the umbilical cord and managed not to last second.

I've literally been fighting to live from the damn beginning. No joke.

I've still got a ton of issues, my health isn't good, but I'm still here and still fighting to live through it all.

When I am around a lot of older folks for jobs or family gatherings or whatever, they'll always tell me to enjoy my youthful looks now because one day I'll "grow old and ugly" like them.

But I think growing old is beautiful. I think aging is a gorgeous thing because everyone deserves to live a long and fulfilled life. Age isn't a bad thing, being old isn't a bad thing, and living long enough that it shows is a sign to me of strength, perseverance, and that's something which I genuinely believe is just so beautiful.

I've met far too many middle-aged or elderly folks who joke about their partners trading them in for a younger model, or who make jokes about actually being 30 years younger or hotter.

People equate youth with beauty and therefore happiness.

But you can't tell me it's better to go back to being 16 when at 16 I was bulimic and sleep-deprived due to endless night terrors and insomnia, knowing I couldn't be diagnosed with PTSD due to my youth and therefore couldn't get any medication to help. To when I had no medications for my chronic arthritis since none are approved for those under 18, and no doctors will touch a child with arthritis only adults so I'm instead stuck shoveling ibuprofen and naproxen sodium down repeatedly for years on end until I'm suffering liver poisoning repeatedly while still in chronic agony.

I'd rather not go back to youth. To the days when I was stuck in a body that wasn't right, and I couldn't get testosterone to transition. When I had such terrible dysphoria that I couldn't even shower or dress myself or brush my teeth in front of a mirror, let alone with my eyes open lest I suffer a panic attack.

That I'm in my mid 20s now, and it shows, is amazing to me. It's a sign I've made it. And as I grow older, and look older, I'll cherish it deeply because I've fucking fought tooth and nail to stay here.

Adulthood is better for me by a long shot. My youth fucking sucked.

And no matter what people tell me, I'll value every year added to my life, and however much it shows going forward.

the older i get and the closer i am to reaching 30, the more the people around me try to deny me my age. it’s a constant ‘oh you’re just turning 29 again teehee 🤭’ or ‘dont tell your SO that, he’ll leave you for a younger model 😉’ and i just???? hate it?????????

i spent my entire teenaged years fighting for my life. i crawled through the deepest pits of my depression to cling to the promise of a life beyond that pain. i was so convinced that i was going to die young, that i would never see the grace of my age starting with a 2, let alone 3.

so im going to turn 30, and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do to stop me from loving it.

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impish-baby · 2 days ago

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Did you get enough love, my little dove? - platonic yandere! Captor x reader - 🤍🩹 (cw: threats, injured reader)

"The fuck do you mean!?" Wren can tell Elijah is ready to pull his hair out if this deal doesn't go through, he's been pacing since the call started. "We already showed you the pictures of them all busted up, we're serious about killing the little shit!"

He feels bad. Normally he can will it away, convince himself that the rich families they exploit deserve it, but from the start you've said over and over and over again that your father wouldn't give them anything, that he didn't care. It seems like you weren't lying.

"Bastard-" the phone smashes against the wall, sending shards of glass and plastic scattering across the floor. "Dammit! What the hell are we supposed to do now?"

Wren doesn't get a chance to say anything before a gun is aimed at their latest victim's head.

They look so scared. He can feel his heart constricting in his chest when they start to sob again, God they're young.

"Elijah, wait a minute-" He doesn't know why, but he can't just let this kid die. "We can figure out a new plan, right? Don't do something without thinking it through."

"Like what?" Elijah scoffs, he's so pissed his hands are shaking, he can't even keep the gun straight. "You know what we should do? Send their corpse wrapped in a pretty bow to that asshole."

"The boss should have a say," Wren smiles nervously, desperation seizing his heart. "Yeah? Give it until he's back before we do decide." It's his best bet and it works, the other man storms out of the basement with a slam of the door.

"God.." He sighs, slumping against the wall before glancing over at them. They're still crying, he's going to have to get them to drink something. Wren can do that, a glass of water and some kind of snack.

"I- I'll be right back.." They don't acknowledge his departure, not that he expects them to.

Elijah must have gone off to smoke, the older man isn't around when he comes up the stairs. A good thing, Wren really doesn't really want to explain what he's doing.

The kid doesn't look up when he returns, nor when he kneels down in front of them. "Hey, sweetheart.." he feels so awkward, "I'm gonna untie you for a bit, ok? Don't try to get up though."

Their wrists have been rubbed completely raw, probably rope burn. He's seen much, much worse but he still winces. "Ow, kiddo..I'll get you patched in just a minute, you need to get something in your system first."

He delicately places his hands over theirs when they try to hold the cup, partly because he isn't just going to give them a potential weapon and partly because their hands shake so bad he's scared they'll drop it. "There you go, try for a few drinks, you can do it.." Wren has never thought about being a father, but he has the inexplicable urge to be gentle with them. "Good job, baby. Can you try to eat a little for me?"

The answer is no apparently. They get one tiny nibble of an apple slice before they look like they're about to puke, all the fear and adrenaline is probably making their stomach upset. A few sips of water is good enough for now, he'll try them again with some crackers later.

"Alright, alright, I'm going to bandage your wrists up now. I'll be careful, I promise." They've been shaking the entire time, but it hurts a little when they tremble more as he holds their arm delicately. "I know, I'm scary, huh? It'll be quick, just so you don't get a yucky infection or something." Their tearstained face is pitiful, Wren wants to wipe the dried lines of tears away and tell them it'll be ok. He doesn't want to be a liar, though.

(a/n: sorry for lack of posts!!! This week has been kicking my ass qwq I'll be back to posting regularly soon!!)

#platonic yandere #famial yandere #platonic yandere x reader #yandere x reader #yandere caregiver

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drewswife · 1 day ago

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summary: you and your bestie just got from dinner and you met your celebrity crush (Drew Starkey)

warnings: fluff, fangirling, you being a blushing mess

The restaurant buzzed with the low hum of satisfied diners, the clinking of glasses, and the murmur of conversations. You and your bestie, Sarah, were just finishing up a shared plate of molten chocolate lava cake, reminiscing about the disastrous double date Sarah had been on the previous night.

"… and then, get this, he starts talking about his extensive collection of porcelain thimbles!" Sarah exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. You giggled, shaking your head in amused disbelief. Suddenly, a hush fell over a small section of the restaurant.

You glanced up, noticing a ripple of excitement spreading through the crowd. "What's going on?" you wondered aloud, but Sarah was already craning her neck, eyes wide.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's Drew Starkey." Your heart skipped a beat. Drew Starkey. Your celebrity crush. You'd spent countless hours watching his movies, swooning over his interviews, and plastering his pictures on your bedroom wall in high school. You couldn't believe he was in this small, cozy restaurant in Chicago.

You tried to play it cool, casually glancing in his direction. He was even more handsome in person. His smile was dazzling, his eyes sparkled with warmth, and his laughter was infectious. He was sitting with a group of friends, engaged in an animated conversation.

"Let's go over and say hi," Sarah nudged you playfully, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Are you crazy?" you hissed, blushing furiously. "I can't just go up to him. What would I even say?"

"Just be yourself," Sarah shrugged. "Tell him you're a fan. Compliment his work. Ask for a selfie. You'll regret it if you don't. "You hesitated, your mind racing. On one hand, even briefly, the thought of meeting him was thrilling. On the other hand, you were terrified of coming across as awkward or starstruck. You imagined yourself tripping over your own feet, spilling your drink on him, or worse, babbling incoherently about your undying love. "Come on," Sarah urged, pulling you to your feet. "Let's do this." Before you could protest further, Sarah was leading you towards his table. "Excuse me," she began, her voice surprisingly steady.

He looked up, his eyes meeting yours. You felt your cheeks flush crimson. "Hi," he said, flashing a disarming smile. "We're huge fans," Sarah continued, beaming. "My friend here, Y/N, she's especially obsessed. She's seen all your movies like a million times."

"It's nice to meet you both," he chuckled, his eyes lingering on yours licking his lips. You managed a shy smile, your heart pounding in your chest. "We don't want to disturb you," Sarah said, "but would you mind if we got a quick picture?"

"Of course," he agreed readily. He stood up, towering over you. He smelled amazing, like a mix of sandalwood and something subtly spicy. You felt a flutter in your stomach.

You squeezed between Drew and Sarah, trying to calm your nerves. He put his arm around your waist squeezing you and pulling you closer making you blush, and you could feel the warmth of his touch through your jacket. You held your breath as Sarah snapped a few photos.

"It was lovely meeting you," he said, his eyes meeting yours again winking at you. "Enjoy the rest of your evening." "You too," you whispered, still slightly dazed. As you returned to your table, Sarah was practically bouncing excitedly.

"Oh my god, we just met Drew Starkey!" she squealed. "And he put his arm around you! I'm so jealous! you lucky bitch" You couldn't stop smiling. You couldn't believe it had actually happened.

taglist: @chrislilcumslvt @chrepsi

dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: was bored lol enjoy!

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #drew fluff #drewswife #drew fanfiction #drew x reader #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey x reader

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mononijikayu · 17 hours ago

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paninindigan kita — ryomen sukuna.

“You know what, I changed my mind. You can go ahead if you want.” he’d said, looking anywhere but at you. “I’m not really the best company.” You looked at him with a raised brow. “You just told me that you wanna get home together.” “Yeah, but I—” “You think I care?” you shot back, smiling and pulled at his arm. “Come on, let’s go.” “Hey, aren’t I gonna have a choice here?” You giggled. “When someone makes a promise, he gives up his right to rescind the offer!”

Genre: Alternate Universe — College! AU;

Warning/s: General Rating, AFAB! Reader, Use of She/Her, Use of Female Centered Identification, Pet Names (Babe, My Love, Hotshot, Etc), Romance, Fluff, Humour, Love, Comfort/ Hurt, Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Lovers, Dating, Delinquent Trope, Feeling, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Idiots In Love, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Healthy Relationship, Friendships, Profanity, Swearing, Teasing, Injury, Mention of Violence, Mention of Delinquency, Mention of Injury, Mention of Physical Fighting, Volleyball, Volleyball Captain! Sukuna, Boyfriend! Sukuna, Girlfriend! Reader;

Words: 7k words.

Note: i know im in the middle of the valentines special, but i just can't help myself. i reread lovesick and it just slaps you know??? i ended up thinking about what could be a sequel to it. i ended up thinking about opm songs as title, since opm songs just hit different when it comes to love.

paninindigan kita is soooo perfect for this. oh and this is another multiverse of concubine reader and sukuna, where they are ACTUALLY in love. so i hope you enjoy this little gift. i think this is,,,,the care before next week. nanami's fic is NOT for the faint hearted. it requires tissues. anyway, i love you all!!! see you on the 10th <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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IF ONE WAS BEING HONEST, NOT MANY CHILDHOOD SWEETHEARTS MAKE IT THE WAY YOU AND VARSITY CAPTAIN RYOMEN SUKUNA DO. That is the unadulterated truth, tried and tested through the ages and has stayed true to itself.

You and Sukuna had started dating in a very discreet manner in junior high. It was a very well kept secret for a time. And that was to be expected. The Sukuna people knew today was not the Sukuna he used to be.

That’s why you supposed everything about it was new and uncharted, something even both of you could not expect. Everything about it was a wild, unexpected match that neither of you saw coming but somehow made perfect sense.

Ryomen Sukuna was already by this time an infamous troublemaker, a magnetic force of nature for danger and trouble. He was someone with a reputation as the school’s untouchable menace and he proved that almost every day.

Teachers sighed when they saw his name on the attendance list. The school staff could only release a curse and a groan with the realization that they would have to clean up after him and many students from the whole of the junior high and high school whispered about the many fights he always got into but somehow never lost.

He was that young boy with the proud bruised knuckles and a defiant smirk, walking through the halls like he owned the place even though authority figures would have loved to see him expelled.

His uniform was perpetually rumpled, his tie loose like he couldn’t be bothered to fit into anyone’s mold. Even all the parents warned their kids to steer clear of him, to avoid trouble.

But you? You saw something else.

It wasn’t just the raw confidence or the magnetic way he carried himself, though that certainly didn’t hurt. No, it was the glimpses of a quieter Ryomen Sukuna. You knew the boy who lingered behind the gym after school, looking out at the sky as if he was waiting for something bigger than this tiny town.

Often he would drink a strawberry milk carton and eat anpan and somehow sleep as peacefully as a kitten. You knew the boy who would shove his hands in his pockets shrewdly and softly mutter a word of thanks when he woke up, realizing that you were also sharing his space and quietly brought him bandages when he rested there after a particularly bad fight.

That continued on for a while. And somehow it became a routine. Though, it changed from time to time. At times you found yourselves eating lunch together and talking to each other in between the bites. At times you both ended up playing card games, after he brought some with him — since he pocketed it off some poor first year junior he defeated.

(Though he brought it back when you scolded him about it.

He groaned on and on about it, telling you he’s not going to do it.

But before you went home from cleaning duty, you saw him place it on that first year’s table.)

Sometimes, you get into the habit of listening to music. Which made you realize that you both liked classical music. Though his favorite is Tchaikovsky and yours is Mozart. At one point, the two of you were bringing out books.

At first you were surprised that he was someone that seemed to read for fun at all. Yet he did. If anything, he read books you didn’t even know about yet. And he would lend you his copies so you both can talk about it (and occasionally debate and argue.)

You were perplexed by the person he was. Everything about him was a contradiction. And almost certainly, it was the thing that pulled you close to him, almost like you could be the moon to his Earth. But you realized that deep down, in the depths of the person he was — he was someone that was brilliant.

Almost radiant scarlet in the rough gravel it dwelled upon. And you were perhaps the only one who knew that. The thought of that had made you bitter for a while, because such a gem shouldn’t be lost in the ether. Yet, there was a part of you that recognized that it was alright. Because you were already there. He wasn’t alone anymore. And he was glad for it.

Soon enough, you both realized that you were going the same route home. Just that you liked to walk home and he liked to take his bike. And because he doesn’t like abrupt endings, just as in the book. So, he suggested walking you home himself. After that, he thought about it. After that day, he left his bike at home.

And then he came up to you about walking home together. That first time he asked you to walk home with him, he’d tried to play it cool. He’d never gone home with anyone, let alone a girl. Let alone you.

And so, conclusion is that he was nervous.

He wanted to do well about it.

Yet, he was a trainwreck almost immediately.

“You know what, I changed my mind. You can go ahead if you want.” he’d said, looking anywhere but at you. “I’m not really the best company.”

You looked at him with a raised brow. “You just told me that you wanna get home together.”

“Yeah, but I—”

“You think I care?” you shot back, smiling and pulled at his arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Hey, aren’t I gonna have a choice here?”

You giggled. “When someone makes a promise, he gives up his right to rescind the offer!”

You could hear him grumbling under his breath, but it was nothing too bad to be sure. And that didn’t matter, not when his hands were warm against your own. Not when you could feel his scarlet eyes trailing against you so tenderly. Not when he was letting you lead the way anyway.

From that day forward, Ryomen Sukuna never went home alone again.

At first, you kept things quiet. At Sukuna’s request, of course. Sukuna didn’t want your name dragged through the mud because of him. People talked enough shit already. About how he was trouble, how he was destined for nowhere good. They just say everything that doesn't count to you.

You knew better, but he hated the idea of you being lumped in with his reputation. After all, you were better than he was, almost akin to a damn real life angel. You deserved better than having been considered a deal with him.

But of course, the stubborn girl you were was steadfast in saying no and only no. Not even when he gets into the worst situations.

“Why do you even hang around me?” he asked one afternoon, leaning against the chain-link fence near the basketball court. The sun glinted off the sweat on his brow from another fight he hadn’t started but definitely finished.

Sukuna huffed, leaning back against the wall as you pressed the bandage onto his arm with more care than he thought necessary. His crimson eyes narrowed slightly, but the rare smile tugging at his lips betrayed the amusement he tried to hide.

“You’re terrible at this, you know that?” he muttered, his tone gruff.

“Oh, I’m sorry, hotshot.” you shot back, glancing up at him with mock offense. “Next time I’ll let you bleed all over the place like some dramatic action hero.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve had worse.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. I’ve Had Worse.” You smirked, smoothing the edges of the bandage down. “You’re lucky I’m even doing this.”

“Why?” he asked, almost challengingly.

“Because I want to.” you said simply, not bothering to look up as you reached for another bandage. “That a problem?”

“That’s a terrible reason, really.” he muttered, his lips twitching. “Not well thought out.”

“And if it is?” you asked, finally glancing up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. “Whatchu planning to do about it?”

For a moment, Sukuna just stared at you, his sharp features softening in the warm glow of the room. The mischievous curl of your lips, the way you leaned in just slightly closer than you needed to—it was infuriating and endearing all at once.

“Dunno, really.” he said, his voice low but tinged with humor. “Maybe I’ll let you keep patching me up. You’re already doing such a stellar job here.”

You scoffed, giving his arm a light smack. “Ungrateful jerk.”

“Careful now.” he teased, his grin widening. “You keep calling me names, and I might start bleeding just to make you work harder.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time.” you shot back, laughing. “I’ll use glitter bandages next time. Make you look real tough.”

Sukuna chuckled, a rare sound that made your heart flip in your chest. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” he muttered.

“And you’re lucky I like fixing up dumbasses who can’t avoid getting hurt.” you replied, sticking the last bandage on his arm with an overly dramatic pat. “Done. Now, try not to get stabbed again for, like, a week, yeah?”

“No promises, babe.” he said, standing up and rolling his shoulders with a smirk. “But I’ll let you keep playing nurse if I do.”

“Deal.” you said, grinning. “As long as you don’t complain next time.”

“Not a chance.” Sukuna muttered, though the rare, genuine smile still lingered as he followed you out of the room.

As you finished packing away the first aid kit, Sukuna leaned casually against the chain wall, his usual confidence back in full swing. You glanced up at him, hesitating for a moment as you watched him flex his arm slightly, testing the bandages.

“You know, ’kuna.” you began, your voice softer than before, “I don’t just patch you up because I feel like it.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his smirk faltering. “What? Do you do it for practice or something?”

“No, no.” you said, laughing lightly. You stepped closer to him, your heart pounding, but you managed to hold his gaze. “I do it because I like you.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Ryomen Sukuna looked genuinely stunned. His crimson eyes widened slightly, his usual sharp tongue momentarily silenced. He looked at you as the sly look in your face slowly melted into the tender demure one, blushing bright everywhere on you. But almost instantaneously, you got your resolve back.

“…What?” he finally said, the word coming out quieter than you’d expected.

“I like you, I said.” you repeated, more confidently this time. “Like, really like you. And not just because you let me fix you up after you inevitably get into trouble. I like you.”

Sukuna stared at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you worried you’d miscalculated, that maybe he didn’t feel the same way. But then, ever so slightly, his lips twitched.

“You’re serious?” he asked, his voice low.

“Completely.” you said, crossing your arms with a grin. “What, is that so hard to believe? You’re not that bad, you know.”

His gaze softened, a rare vulnerability creeping into his usually guarded expression. “…I didn’t think you were stupid enough to like someone like me.” he muttered, but there was no bite in his tone.

You rolled your eyes, stepping even closer to him. “Well, surprise! Turns out I’m just that stupid.”

For a moment, Ryomen Sukuna didn’t say anything. Then, with a quiet chuckle, he rubbed the back of his neck, his grin finally breaking through. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re not saying anything about how you feel about this.” you teased, poking him lightly in the chest.

He smirked, grabbing your hand before you could poke him again. “Maybe I’ll keep you guessing.”

“Or maybe you’ll just admit you like me too, you know?” you shot back, leaning in slightly.

Sukuna sighed dramatically, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “Fine. I like you too. Happy?”

You grinned. “Ecstatic.”

He rolled his eyes, but the faint blush creeping up his neck didn’t go unnoticed. “You’re gonna be a pain in my ass about this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely, hotshot.” you said, laughing.

Sukuna shook his head, but his rare, genuine smile lingered. “Yeah, well… don’t expect me to go easy on you just because I like you back.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” you said, winking back at him. “Now come on, I still want that sundae from the convenience store!”

And for the first time, Ryomen Sukuna didn’t look like the untouchable, tough guy everyone thought he was.

He looked happy.

Too damn happy.

And it looked good on him.

Both of you enjoyed the quiet of your new bliss as much as possible. You both kept to yourselves most of the time, expanding on the adventures you already made as your routine. You both kept it discreet, and this time because you both weren’t ready for anyone to just know all about it. You wanted to keep Sukuna all to yourself. And in turn, he did too.

But despite your best efforts, secrets have a way of getting out.

The day everything changed was after Sukuna took on three older guys who thought they could corner him near the sports field. He walked away victorious, of course, but with a split lip and a bloodied brow. You rushed to his side without a second thought, cupping his face as the crowd murmured around you.

“You’re bleeding again, 'kuna.” you said, dabbing at the cut with a tissue from your bag.

“I’m fine.” he grumbled, though his eyes softened under your touch.

The crowd wasn’t subtle, not one bit.

“Wait... are they... together?”

“No way.”

“Her? With him?”

“She’s too good for that delinquent.”

Ryomen Sukuna heard every word, his jaw tightening. He was used to the judgment, but hearing it directed at you made his blood boil. He was ready to snap, to tell everyone to shut the hell up until you squeezed his hand.

“Let them talk their shit.” you said calmly, meeting his eyes. “I don’t care.”

The warmth in your voice melted the tension in his shoulders. You didn’t care. And that was enough.

From that day forward, Sukuna didn’t bother hiding how much he cared about you. He walked you to class, carried your bag when it was heavy, and glared down at anyone who dared look at you sideways. People whispered, of course, but no one was brave enough to say anything to his face.

You saw sides of him no one else did, one he only exposed to the person he held dearest. The one that devotedly belonged to you. And you kept him safe, closer than ever before. You started to build a puzzle, full of every bit of him, little by little.

The Sukuna who stole fries off your plate but always left you the last bite, who texted you to make sure you got home safe, even when you weren’t walking together, and who fought less often because you made him want to be better.

He was still rough around the edges, still intimidating to everyone else, that was true enough. But with you? He was just Sukuna. Your Sukuna. And that was all you ever wanted him to be.

Life did change after your relationship went public, though not as dramatically as you might have expected. Sukuna was still the notorious troublemaker with a penchant for glaring and intimidation.

You were still the person everyone was convinced was too good for him. But if anyone thought Ryomen Sukuna would mellow out completely, they were sorely mistaken. Especially now that you both were in the last year of high school.

That one afternoon, as the two of you walked home together, Sukuna stuffed his hands into his pockets, his usual scowl in place. “People still can’t believe you’re with me, y’know.” he muttered. “Heard some idiot today say you’re slumming it. Tch.”

You snorted, nudging his side. “Just jealous, ‘kuna. I’m pretty sure they can’t handle that the delinquent king got the best catch in school.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching upward slyly. “You think I’m the delinquent king? Sounds like I need a crown or something, don’t I?”

“Oh, please.” you teased. “If anyone’s getting a crown, it’s me. I’m obviously the one carrying this relationship, my love.”

Sukuna stopped dead in his tracks, dramatically clutching his chest. “Wow. Betrayed by my own girlfriend. After all the fights I didn’t start for your sake.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“You knew that going in.” he shot back, grinning now as he draped an arm over your shoulder.

The playful banter continued as you reached his house. You both planned to eat dinner together before he took you home. Your parents didn’t mind that you were coming home late, since they were also working.

And they understood that you were after the volleyball team manager. Though they didn’t know about how early you finished — primarily because Sukuna always ends practice early so he can spend more time with you before he takes you home.

Coming inside the house, he welcomes you inside. Sukuna carefully kicked off his shoes with a huff, flopping onto the couch like a cat claiming its territory. You followed him rather quickly, settling in beside him as he lazily tossed an arm around you.

“You know, my love, I’ve been thinking.” you said, tilting your head to look at him. “You’re actually kind of sweet when no one’s looking.”

“Don’t start spreading lies now.” he teased, his grin widening.

“Oh, I’m serious. Big bad Ryomen Sukuna, all soft and cuddly.”

He narrowed his scarlet eyes. “Say that again, and I’m carrying you out of here fireman style.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

The next thing you knew, Sukuna had hoisted you up over his shoulder, laughing as you squealed and flailed. “Ryomen Sukuna! Put me down!”

“Too late, babe.” he said smugly. “You called me soft. Now you’re getting evicted.”

“I live here half the time already!”

“Not anymore!”

Eventually, he relented, setting you back down with a grin that made your heart skip. You huffed, crossing your arms. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it, don’t you?” he said confidently, leaning down until his face was inches from yours.

“…Maybe.” you admitted with a smile.

He grinned triumphantly. “That’s what I thought.”

As much as the world still saw Ryomen Sukuna as the intimidating, wild Cursed King, you knew the truth. Beneath the scowl and reputation was a boy who loved fiercely, who fought for what mattered, and who never let go of the one person who saw the real him.

And honestly? That was more than enough for you.

══════════════════

AFTER A YEAR AND A HALF, YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER FOUND OUT. The news broke just right before the typical family dinner on the Sunday. And you had wished it never happened. Because it just broke your heart to endure this.

There was a seemingly innocent comment from a well-meaning neighbor who talked with her high schooler daughter about how "Ryomen Sukuna from the volleyball team always walks you home." And naturally, that made your parents curious. A little digging here and there from the neighbor, it was out.

You could practically hear the record scratch when your mother paused mid-stir of the soup, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Your father, ever the stoic one, lowered his newspaper with a furrowed brow.

It didn’t take long for their disapproval to make itself crystal clear.

They didn’t care that Sukuna’s presence grounded you, that his gruff demeanor melted into rare softness when it was just the two of you. They didn’t see the boy who remembered the little things—how you liked your ramen without onions, your favorite snacks for stressful days, or how he always carried an extra umbrella just in case you forgot yours.

None of that mattered.

What they saw was a scowling boy with tattoos crawling up his arms and a reputation for fists that spoke louder than words. They didn’t hear his low, thoughtful hums as he followed the rhythm of the anime openings he adored, or his boyish grin when he perfectly timed his spikes on the volleyball court.

Your mother wrung her hands, pacing. “That boy—he’s nothing but trouble, I’m telling you. What future does someone like that have?”

“Volleyball captain or not, it doesn’t matter.” your father grunted. “He’s not the kind of person I want near my daughter.”

You clenched your fists under the table, biting your tongue until it hurt. They didn’t know him, not really. They didn’t know how he carefully patched you up after your own scrapes or how he walked at your pace, even when it was inconvenient for him.

They hadn’t seen him laugh, hadn’t heard his proud, slightly cocky declaration when you aced an important test: That’s my girl.

“I love him.” you said, voice steady despite the lump in your throat.

Silence fell over the room, heavy and suffocating.

Your mother looked at you as though you’d just confessed to a crime. “Love?” she repeated incredulously. “You’re too young to understand love, and especially with him.”

Your father’s jaw tightened. “You’ll end this nonsense immediately.”

“No.” you said firmly, standing up, your chair scraping against the floor. “I won’t.”

They didn't expect that.

“You don’t get it, do you?” you continued, trembling but resolute. “He’s not what you think. He’s kind, thoughtful, and he’s helped me become a better person. Just because he’s rough around the edges doesn’t mean he’s bad.”

“You’re throwing your future away for him?” your mother exclaimed, pacing across the living room.

“He’s nothing but trouble!” your father added, shaking his head. “We didn’t raise you to make these kinds of decisions.”

“I’m not throwing away anything!” you shouted back, voice shaking. “Sukuna’s not what you think he is. You don’t know him at all!”

“We know enough, daughter.” your mother said sharply. “Boys like him don’t change. They just drag you down with them.”

The words hit harder than you expected, cutting deep.

“Well, maybe I get to decide what my future looks like!” you shot back, tears blurring your vision. “And it’s none of your business who I love!”

Silence hung heavy in the air, thick with words that couldn’t be unsaid. Your parents’ faces were hard, unyielding, and it was clear there would be no convincing them tonight. Heart pounding, you grabbed your bag and stormed toward the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” your father demanded.

“Anywhere but here.” you spat, slamming the door behind you.

You didn’t know where you were headed until your feet carried you right in front of Sukuna’s house. By the time you reached his door, your throat was raw from holding back sobs, and your chest felt like it was going to burst. You knocked twice, the sound echoing in the quiet evening.

The door carefully creaked open, revealing your Sukuna in sweatpants and a loose hoodie, hair messy like he’d just woken up from a nap. His sharp scarlet eyes softened when he saw you standing there with tear-streaked cheeks.

“Hey, babe.” he said, blinking. “What are you doing here?”

“I ran away from home.” you blurted, voice trembling.

There was a beat of silence before he stepped aside. “Well, come in. Can’t you be out here in the cold.”

You shuffled inside, dropping your bag by the door as Sukuna closed it behind you.

“What happened?”

“Rough patch.” You whispered to your boyfriend. “.....So I left.”

“You left?”

“Yes.”

He looked at you as though he didn’t believe you. “You have a bag with you.”

“Okay, look. It was bad and I ran away.”

“You ran away?” he repeated, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. “Like, for real? With the dramatic door slam and everything?”

“Yes.” you muttered, sinking onto the couch. “My parents found out and…..they don’t like you.”

Sukuna snorted, though there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly a parent’s dream, y’know. Shocking, I know.”

“They said you’d ruin my future, my love.” you admitted, voice cracking.

He let out a low whistle. “Damn. Harsh.”

“I told them they didn’t know you.” you continued, wiping your eyes. “But they didn’t care. They said they did. Like you were some villain or something.”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “I mean… I do kinda have the whole villain aesthetic going for me.”

You glared at him. “Not helping.”

“Sorry, sorry.” he said, though a small grin tugged at his lips. “So, what’s the plan now? Gonna fight me for the good spot on the couch and share my instant ramen?”

The absurdity of it made you laugh through your tears. “Sounds like a great future.”

Sukuna grinned, leaning back against the couch. “Your parents are probably losing their minds right now.”

“They’ll get over it….eventually.” you said stubbornly, though doubt lingered at the edge of your voice.

“Maybe so.” he agreed, his voice softer. “But if they don’t, you can stay here. I mean, I’m kind of a mess, but I’ve got room.”

“Really?” you asked quietly.

He shrugged. “Yeah. You’re not so bad to have around.”

The bittersweet warmth in his words made your chest ache. “Thank you, my love. Really…..I’m lucky to have you.” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Anytime, babe. Don’t worry about it.” he muttered, resting his cheek against your hair. “But, uh, just one rule.”

“What?”

“No eating all the good ramen flavors. I’m serious.”

You laughed, the sound lighter now. “Deal.”

As messy and uncertain as everything felt, sitting there with your Sukuna, so domestically and so enjoyable in the warmth of each other — everything about it didn’t seem so bad. If anything, it was a lot more than what you would expect. It was a life worth living.

The steam from Sukuna’s shower lingered in your skin as you stood by the fogged mirror, brushing your damp hair out of your face. The fight with your parents still sat heavy on your chest, but the warm water had washed away some of the weight. You exhaled slowly, steeling yourself before slipping into one of Sukuna’s oversized shirts that smelled faintly of laundry soap and him.

Padding out into the living room, you were met with the comforting aroma of something savory simmering in the kitchen. Sukuna stood at the stove, bare-chested except for a pair of gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, stirring a pot of miso soup. His hair was a mess, damp from the lingering humidity of the house.

“You cook?” you teased, leaning against the doorway with a raised brow.

He didn’t even look up. “Don’t sound so surprised now. Didn’t I cook you your lunch during festival week?”

“Oh! I thought that was store bought.” You teased him.

He raised a brow, amused. “Oh, is that so? How about I stop cooking—”

“No, no. Continue.”

He hums, moving closer to kiss your cheek. “Hm, that’s what I thought.”

The casual affection in his voice settled something inside you. The warmth of his lips stayed tender against the pinkish hues of your cheeks. You looked at him for a moment. He shook his head and smiled, pointing at the dining table.

You nodded and sat at the small dining table, watching him move around the kitchen with surprising ease. He plated rice into two porcelain bowls, poured the steaming miso soup into the smaller soup bowls, and set them down in front of you with a clink.

“Nothing fancy, babe. Sorry about that. I didn’t get to the grocery today. Practice lasted longer today.” he said, sitting across from you. “But it’s good to curb the cold from you, since it’s warm.”

“Don’t worry about it, my love. It’s more than perfect.” you murmured sincerely.

The first spoonful was simple but comforting, warmth spreading through you as you ate in comfortable silence. It was just like a hug, like your beloved boyfriend’s tender hug. You hummed as he watched you eat. Soon enough, Sukuna ate with his usual ease, occasionally glancing up at you as if to check if you were okay.

“So……” he said after a while, leaning back in his chair. “Are you really not going home tonight?”

Your spoon froze midway to your mouth. “I don’t know. Not tonight. And…..Maybe not for a while.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable. “Then what? Are you moving in with me?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“I mean, I don’t….mind.” he shrugged at you nonchalantly. “We’re young, yeah, but if that’s what you want, I’m not against it.”

“You’re not?” you asked, stunned by how easily he said it.

“Nah.” he said firmly. “If you’re here, I’m gonna live my life taking responsibility for you.”

Your breath caught as the gentle pink in your cheeks turned cherry red. “Sukuna—”

“I’m serious, babe.” he cut in, his voice softer now but unwavering. “You just walked out on everything for me. That’s not small, you know? I have to do the same. So I’m gonna make sure you’re happy, whatever it takes. I’ll figure it out. You’re my one and only for the rest of our lives.”

The sincerity in his words hit you like a tidal wave. Suddenly, brutish tears blurred your vision, and before you knew it, the spoon clattered onto the table as you stood up. Sukuna blinked in surprise as you stumbled blindly around the table and threw yourself into his arms.

His chair scraped back as he stood to catch you, his arms wrapping tightly around your trembling form. “Whoa, hey.” he murmured, sounding a little panicked. “What’s this? Are you crying on me now?”

“You’re such an idiot, you’re such an idiot!” you sniffled against his shoulder, voice thick with emotion. “But I love you so much.”

He froze for half a second before laughing, warm and genuine. “Yeah? Well, I love you too, idiot.”

You pulled back just enough to see his face, your tears still clinging to your lashes. His grin was crooked, soft in a way that made your chest ache with affection. He takes in the look of you, with that devoted haze that could only be once in a lifetime.

“Guess we’re stuck with each other now, huh?” he teased, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“Yeah, yeah.” you whispered, smiling through your tears. “For the rest of our lives.”

Sukuna grinned, pulling you back into a hug. “That’s good to hear.” he murmured against your hair. “Cause you know that’s exactly what I want, hm?”

In that moment, with his warmth surrounding you and the future uncertain, you felt the tears well away and calm take over you. With this love, this warmth, this man — somehow everything just felt less frightening. And it made you feel so lucky.

So goddamn lucky to live, to have this love. This life. Because you knew that no matter how messy things got, you’d be okay as long as you had each other. As long as you had Sukuna, you’d be alright.

══════════════════

THE MORNING WAS RATHER UNEVENTFUL. Well, that was until the blue hour huddled through the capricious skies. The knock at Sukuna’s door was heavy and deliberate, filled with the weight of everything unresolved.

You stiffened instantly, your heart thudding against your ribs as you glanced toward the window. Your breath caught when you saw them—your parents standing stiffly on the porch, your father’s expression hard and unreadable, your mother fidgeting with the strap of her purse.

“It’s them, my love.” you whispered, stepping back as a lump formed in your throat.

Sukuna, drying a dish at the sink, glanced up and set the towel down with calm purpose. “Your parents?” he asked, his tone neutral.

You nodded, unable to form words. “I don’t want to see them, not right now.” you muttered finally, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Sukuna’s sharp eyes softened as he walked toward you. He placed a warm hand on your shoulder, grounding you. “You don’t have to, babe.” he said quietly.

Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived as he made his way to the door. “What are you doing?” you asked in a panic.

He glanced back at you, a small, reassuring grin tugging at his lips. “Gonna talk to them.”

“Ryomen Sukuna—”

“Hey, hey. Just trust me, okay?” he said gently, giving you a tender gaze. “I’ve got this.”

Before you could stop him, he opened the door and stepped outside, closing it softly behind him. Your heart raced as you crept toward the window, peeking through the curtain.

Your parents stood rigidly on the porch, their expressions guarded but uncertain. Sukuna stood tall, almost so proud, with his broad-shouldered and unflinching, meeting their gazes with calm confidence.

“I see you’ve come.” he greeted politely, his usual sharp edge tempered by something respectful but firm.

“Where is our daughter?” your father demanded, his voice gruff and commanding.

“She’s inside my house.” Sukuna said evenly. “But she doesn’t want to see you right now.”

Your mother’s face faltered. “We just want to talk to her.”

Sukuna nodded, understanding in his expression. “I get that, mam. I really do.” he said calmly, “But I also get why she’s upset. I know I’m not exactly the kind of guy parents dream of for their kid. I know that much. ”

Your father’s frown deepened, but Sukuna stood his ground.

“I’m not here to make excuses for myself.” Sukuna continued, his voice steady. “I’ve been in fights, well I used to. I’ve stopped, ever since me and her dated. But I know that I’ve got a reputation, and I know how that looks to you. But I need you to know this—” he took a deep breath, his voice unwavering, “I love your daughter. And only her.”

Your mother’s lips parted in surprise, but Sukuna wasn’t finished.

“She might not move back home with you and that’s her choice, I respect that from her.” he said, glancing between them. “But I want you to know that she’s safe with me. I’ll take care of her."

He only continues when they didn't speak. "I’ll make sure she’s never hungry, never sick, and that she always has a roof over her head. I’ve got a job, and it pays well enough for a graduating high school student. And my parents wouldn’t mind having her here either.”

Your parents were stunned, the weight of his words settling over them. Even from behind the window, you could see the cracks forming in their defenses. Sukuna’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile.

“I hope that clears things up, mam, sir.” he said simply. “I love your daughter. I really do. I hope you see that. I hope you see that I’ll always live and breathe for her.”

Silence stretched between them. Your father cleared his throat, clearly at a loss for words. Your mother’s eyes glistened, though she remained quiet. Sukuna dipped his head respectfully at them. He knows they would need time to process all that.

“Thank you for coming, really.” he said gently. “You can come see her anytime if she’s ready. But for now, let’s respect what she needs. Please.”

With that, he turned and walked back inside, closing the door behind him. You stood frozen, tears welling up in your weary eyes as Sukuna leaned casually against the doorframe, his expression unreadable.

He takes a soft breath before he looks back at you, almost too shyly. Almost like he wants to hide away as the warm scarlet of his eyes echoed on his cheeks too. “You heard all that, huh?” he asked, voice low but amused.

“You’re unbelievable, my love.” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

His lips quivered into a lopsided grin. “In a good way, I hope.”

Without thinking, you surged forward, throwing your arms around him and holding him tightly. Sukuna hesitated for only a moment before wrapping his arms around you, his warmth enveloping you completely.

“I love you. So so much.” you murmured into his shoulder, your voice breaking.

He chuckled, the sound low and comforting. “Yeah? Well, I love you too. Always.”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, which softened in a way they rarely did. You don’t think you’ve ever felt love like this, not even before when you had crushes. Or not even when you fell in love for the first time. In a way, Sukuna had made his own category in your heart, in your soul. He was irreplaceable, he always will be.

“Thank you, for being in my life. I don’t know how I’d be without you.” you whispered, the weight of everything he’d done settling over you.

He brushed a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Don’t thank me, babe.” he said with a grin. “This is just what you do when you love someone, right?”

You hummed back at him. You felt his hands drift through your hair, slowly letting the strands slip through his fingers in a careful caress. He kisses your temple, meeting your eyes. Your chest ached, full to the brim with affection for the boy who had always stood by you, fierce and unyielding.

“Guess we’re stuck with each other, aren’t we?” you said softly.

“Damn right, babe.” he teased, pulling you back into his arms. “Forever or nothing.”

══════════════════

epilogue

This year’s championship dinner was already wild, perhaps even wilder than the last year. Well, that was to be expected, especially with Captain Ryomen Sukuna negotiating the afterparty budget with the university himself — and considering he was bringing in the best result the university ever had in sports, why wouldn’t he get the big afterparty budget?

There was so much of the abundant hotpot bubbling at every table, plate after plate stacked high as if it's attempting to reach heaven, and the varsity volleyball team loud with post-victory energy.

Ryomen Sukuna, however, was in his own world, calmly devouring hotpot like the unbothered menace he was, chopsticks working methodically through noodles. And that you expected. Your boyfriend was exhausted.

You, meanwhile, had everyone's full attention as you dramatically told the story.

“So there I was, the most beautiful person alive.” you said, waving your chopsticks like a microphone. “I was just standing in Sukuna’s living room, freaking out because my parents showed up. And I told Sukuna I didn’t want to see them. What does this guy do?”

You pointed dramatically at him and he didn't even look up. “He walks outside, so brave with his barefoot, like some rom-com protagonist, and tells my dad—who, by the way, looks like he grills steaks with his bare hands sort of energy—”

“Big dad energy, got it, got it.” Vice Captain Gojo Satoru interjected, already wheezing.

“—‘I love your daughter, and I’ll always live for her!’” you said, attempting to mimic your Sukuna’s gruff tone.

Setter Geto Suguru slapped the table, howling. “Nah, stop it. THE Captain Ryomen Sukuna? Mister ‘I’ll spike a volleyball through your face if you breathe wrong?’ Are you sure?”

“I’m serious!” you laughed. “He even told them he had a job that already pays well and that his parents wouldn’t mind me moving in with them!”

Middle Blocker Nanami Kento choked on his drink, covering his mouth with a fist. “There’s no way this is real. There’s….There’s just really no way we’re talking about the same guy, senpai.”

Fellow Middle Blocker Fushiguro Megumi blinked, his brain visibly glitching. “The same Sukuna who made us do suicide drives on the balls he spikes because Yuuji said practice was ‘lowkey chill’?”

“Yes! I'm very serious about how this happened, guys!” you grinned.

Libero Itadori Yuuji was face down on the table, banging his fist. He was trying not to laugh, but all the same failing with great effort. “I can’t breathe! I’m so….I’m so sorry, senpai! This… this is ridiculous! Captain gave a Ted Talk on responsible boyfriend duties?”

“And he ended it with, ‘I hope that clears things up.’ Like he was closing a business meeting!” you said, nearly wheezing. “I really wish our phones today were there for recording. I would have avoided the trouble of not being believed!”

Suguru wiped tears from his eyes. “Bro, this is it. This is damn good soup. Amazing poetry. We gotta frame this, oh my god.”

“I’m making it our new team motto, guys!” Satoru declared between gasps. “Right before every match—‘I LOVE YOUR DAUGHTER AND I’LL ALWAYS LIVE FOR HER!’”

Megumi groaned loudly, head in his hands. “This is my nightmare. I should have joined another team, this is horrible.”

Meanwhile, Captain Ryomen Sukuna hadn’t flinched once, calmly stirring his hotpot like this was all beneath him. He slurped some noodles, glanced up, and deadpanned, “You’re all idiots.”

“That’s Mr. Idiot to you, Captain.” Satoru quipped.

Suguru grinned wickedly. “We’re getting matching shirts. I think we still have an afterparty budget, no? It would be great practice shirts! The tagline in bold has to be like ‘Property of the Captain: Loves Someone’s Daughter, Lives for Her.’”

“Shut the hell up, Geto. You’re so annoying!” Sukuna muttered, jabbing at the hotpot with his chopsticks.

“C’mon, my love. This is really great, no?” you teased sweetly.

His chopsticks froze mid-air. Slowly, he turned his head, glaring at you with the heat of a thousand serves. “You’re walking home later.” he deadpanned.

“Don’t worry, senpai!” Satoru cackled, looking at Sukuna and winked. “I’ll give you a ride—to help out my love here!”

The entire table exploded into chaos as Sukuna sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was already regretting even arranging the afterparty. And most of all, letting all of you be friends and letting them rub off even more sly behaviour to you.

“You’re all getting extra laps tomorrow. And you’ll have to run faster! Or you’ll get benched for the next practice match with Kyoto!” he grumbled, but there was a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

The current threat caused the entire team scattered about in the restaurant in various tables to erupt in groans. At the very least no one was looking at them weird, the whole restaurant was rented. But the chaos ensued, people standing up and arguing that practice should be cancelled tomorrow since you just won.

Everything was practically in shambles, with Yuuji sliding halfway off his chair, still gasping for breath, still laughing. He was the only one still, besides Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru. Of course that’s to be expected. Itadori Yuuji seemed to be certainly not human with his records.

“Bro, Captain.” he wheezed, pointing shakily at Sukuna, still laughing. “The mental image of you standing there, barefoot, saying ‘I love your daughter and I’ll live for her’— I’m done. I’m tapping out. It’s so corny."

“Straight to the history books, Cap!” Suguru added, wiping tears from his eyes. “Future captains need to hear this legend. Seriously.”

“Coach is gonna cry laughing when he hears about this. I can’t believe he missed this because of a phone call.” Satoru snickered. “Imagine the look on his face when we put it on our team banner.”

He stood, mimicking a grand reveal. “‘National University Varsity Volleyball Champions! Their motto? We Love Your Daughter and We’ll Live For Her!’”

“You know what…..Let’s just not have shame, at this point. Put it on the team jackets, on the tumblers. On the balls. Just put it on there. Everything!” Megumi groaned, his head in his hands. Nanami Kento pours him a cup of sake. “Might as well go all the way.”

“Shut it, Fushiguro.” Sukuna muttered darkly, stabbing a piece of tofu as though it owed him money. “None of you are funny.”

“Oh, but my love, we are!” Satoru teased, leaning in with a mischievous grin.

Sukuna slammed his chopsticks down with a loud clack. “I don’t care what the coach says tomorrow. We have practice tomorrow. Three hours. No breaks.”

The table collectively gasped.

You snickered under your cup of sake.

Sukuna remains unfazed about it all.

“Captain, please don't do this!” Yuuji begged suddenly, his bright eyes widened. “I have weak joints!”

“You’re built like a tank, and you were laughing about this like you don’t have an issue with it. So stand proud, Itadori.” Sukuna deadpanned, continuing to eat hotpot. “Suck it up.”

“You know this is just making it worse, right?” you whispered to him, grinning.

He gave you a flat look. “You’re definitely walking home.”

“I’ll take you home, senpai—” Satoru happily chirped.

Sukuna’s eye twitched. “Shut up before I spike your face, Gojo.”

Nanami Kento, who had been quietly sipping his sake throughout the madness, finally sighed. “Honestly, I think it’s romantic.” he said with a shrug.

Everyone froze, stunned.

You almost choked on your next cup of sake.

“Nanami Kento.” Suguru said slowly, snickering as he drank. “Did you just say something sappy?”

“I’ve had a long day, okay? I’m crashing out, let me be.” Nanami muttered, looking vaguely ashamed. Just as Fushiguro had earlier. Fushiguro Megumi refills his senpai’s cup. “And the booze isn’t helping. God damn it.”

The laughter and the badgering started all over again, louder and more chaotic than before. Sukuna, despite his threats, couldn’t entirely hide the faint smirk tugging at his lips. Leaning toward you, he muttered under his breath. You turned your heat at him, meeting his warm eyes.

“If they don’t shut up, I’m taking this hotpot home and eating it alone.”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “It’s okay, my love. You’ll live for me, right?”

He groaned. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Never, lover boy.” you grinned.

He could only sigh as you leaned against him, happily looking at everyone being passionate in arguing against practice tomorrow once again. You giggled as you started to talk with them again. And in that rowdy, absurd, chaotic moment surrounded by chaos, Ryomen Sukuna realized—he wouldn’t have it any other way.

This is life worth living, after all.

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queenshelby · 2 days ago

Text

The Peaky Role (Part 20)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Best Friend's Dad, Smut

Just as you had finally found a casual dress to wear and were about to put on some make-up, there was a knock at the door that jolted you from your thoughts.

"Y/N?" Cillian's voice broke through from the other side of the door, laced with an urgency that sent your heart racing. You swallowed hard, glancing at the mirror one last time before you opened the door.

"Yes?" you asked as you saw Cillian standing there, tension radiating from him, his brow furrowed.

"I need to talk to you," he declared, his voice low but firm.

You opened the door wider, letting him inside, the warmth of your apartment contrasting with the storm brewing in his eyes.

"What's up?" you asked as soon as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a resolute click.

"I heard about your dinner with Barry tonight," he cut straight to the point, his jaw tightening. "And I think that you shouldn't be going out with him."

A sharp breath caught in your throat.

"And why not?" you asked as you crossed your arms, defiance sparking within as you took a step back, the heat of the moment igniting an argument.

Cillian ran a hand through his hair, frustration visible in the tight lines of his face. "He's not right for you and I don't want you to screw up your career by hooking up with him or another actor on set."

"Well, for starters, I wasn't going to hook up with him but, even if I was going to, what business is it of yours?" you asked him with your arms still crossed tightly, daring him to challenge you.

"I am a producer of the movie and it is my business when...," Cillian began but you cut him off.

"Don't even start this conversation as though you actually care about the rules, Cillian," you retorted, fire flashing in your eyes. "You broke them yourself by sleeping with me, didn't you?" you said, anger simmering in your chest, eyes locked on his. It was a low blow, you knew it, but you couldn't help it. The words tumbled out, fueled by a mix of frustration and the raw, exposed emotions that had been building up inside you.

"That's different and you know it," Cillian countered, his voice tight, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and something else—pain, perhaps.

You scoffed, the sound bitter and harsh. "How is it different Cillian?" you challenged, your voice rising despite your best efforts to keep it steady. "You slept with me while we were already working together, so how is that any less of a mess than me going out with Barry? You're a hypocrite, Cillian. You can't tell me what to do when you're doing the same thing."

Cillian's expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Alright, he said, his voice low and controlled. "You're right. I did break the rules, and I shouldn't be lecturing you about them. But this is different, Y/N. Barry is... he's not good for you. He's got a reputation," Cillian tried to argue but you knew what the real issue was. He was jealous. You could see it in the way his eyes flashed, in the tight set of his jaw. He was jealous, and it sent a thrill through you, a dangerous, exhilarating sensation that made your heart race.

You took a step closer, your voice softening as you challenged him. "You know what I think the problem is here?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you stepped closer to him, your eyes locked onto his. "I think you're jealous."

Cillian's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he quickly masked it with a scowl. "Don't be ridiculous," he snapped, but the heat in his voice betrayed him.

You smirked, taking another step closer, your voice a low purr. "Am I? Because it sure seems like it to me. You're not worried about my career, Cillian. You're worried about me being with someone else."

Cillian's jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts.

When he looked back at you, his eyes were stormy, a mix of frustration and something else—something darker, more primal. "Fine, maybe I am," he admitted, his voice low and gruff. "But that doesn't change the fact that Barry is bad news. He's a great actor and a nice guy, but he is also player, Y/N. He'll use you and toss you aside. I don't want to see you get hurt."

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your lips. "And what about you then? Didn't you use me and toss me aside?" you asked, your voice soft but laced with a challenge. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between his desire for you and his guilt over the situation.

"You know I had no choice and you know very well that we can't actually be together, right?" Cillian's voice was low, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "I have a family, Y/N. I have responsibilities. This... what we have, it's complicated and messy, and I cannot promise you anything," Cillian said, his voice heavy with regret and longing. "But I also can't stand the thought of you with someone else, either. It's selfish, I know. But I can't help it."

You took a deep breath, your heart aching at his words. You knew he was right—this was complicated, messy, and ultimately doomed. But you also knew that you couldn't stop thinking about him, couldn't stop wanting him. And seeing him like this, vulnerable and honest, only made it worse.

"I never asked you to make me any promises Cillian," you whispered, your voice soft and gentle, your fingers trailing down his arm. "I never expected anything from you. I knew what I was getting into. I knew the risks. I knew the consequences. I just... I don't like you pushing me away and that's exactly what you have been doing this past week," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you stepped even closer, your breath mingling with his. "I know this is complicated, and I know it's messy. But I also know what I feel when I'm with you, Cillian. And I can't just turn that off because it's convenient or because it's what's expected of us."

Cillian's eyes softened, the storm in them slowly dissipating, replaced by a warmth that made your heart flutter. He reached up, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb gently brushing against your skin. "Y/N, I—" he started. "I can't turn that off either," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But we are playing with fire here and both know that. And eventually, someone is going to get burned."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew he was right, but you also knew that you couldn't walk away. Not yet. Not until you had to.

Cillian's hand dropped from your cheek, his fingers tangling with yours as he took a step closer, his breath warm on your skin. "I can't promise you anything, Y/N. I can't promise you a future, or a happily ever after. It's just not on the cards," Cillian said, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes locked onto yours.

"Then don't. Just don't promise me anything," you whispered, your voice barely audible, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel the heat of his body, the electricity that sparked between you, and you knew that you were playing with fire. But you also knew that you couldn't resist him, not anymore. "I can't promise you a future either, Cillian, but I still want to be with you, and I think there is nothing wrong with living in the moment if we are smart about it," you added, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside you.

"Y/N," Cillian objected , his voice barely a whisper, his eyes searching yours, the intensity in his gaze making your heart race. "You're too young to be involved in this mess. You deserve better than this."

You scoffed softly, a sad smile playing on your lips. "Better than what, Cillian? Better than being with someone who makes me feel alive?" you asked, your voice soft but firm. "I mean, I know it's fucked up because you are my best friend's father, but I like being with you and, even if nothing ever comes of this, I want to experience it while I can. I want to feel this," you added, your voice barely above a whisper as you took a step closer, your eyes locked onto his. "I want to feel everything with you, Cillian. I don't want to miss out on this because we're too scared of what might happen," you said, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside you.

Cillian's eyes searched yours, a mix of emotions flickering in their depths.

You could see the struggle within him, the battle between his desires and his responsibilities. He took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke, "Fuck Y/N. You know I can't stay away from you."

You took a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest, the air between you thick with tension. "Yeah, I have noticed," you said, your voice barely a whisper, your eyes locked onto his and, as you did, Cillian's eyes darkened, the storm within him brewing and, before you knew it, he had grabbed you by the hips and pulled you against him, his lips crashing down onto yours in a fierce, hungry kiss.

You gasped , your body melting against his as his tongue invaded your mouth, exploring and claiming, his hands gripping your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh.

"I want you so much Y/N, you have no fucking idea ," he growled into your mouth, his voice low and primal, his body pressing against yours.

You moaned into his kiss, your body responding to his touch, your nipples hardening against his chest. "I think I have some idea," you breathed, your voice husky with desire as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. His hands slid from your hips to your ass, squeezing and kneading, pulling you tighter against him, his cock hard and insistent against your stomach already now, which surely did not take long.

"If we are going to do this, no one can know," he whispered against your mouth, his voice rough with lust and desperation. "We have to be careful, Y/N. We can't let anyone find out about us for a very long time."

You nodded, your breath coming in short gasps as you ran your hands down his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles beneath his shirt. "I know," you whispered back, your voice barely audible. "I know we have to be careful."

Cillian's hands gripped your ass tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh as he lifted you off the ground, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carried you to the bed, his mouth never leaving yours, his kiss hungry and desperate.

You could feel the heat of his body, the hardness of his cock pressing against you, and you knew that you were in for a wild ride. As he laid you down on the bed, his body covering yours, you could feel the weight of him, the strength in his muscles, and you knew that you were exactly where you wanted to be.

Cillian's hands roamed your body, his touch firm and possessive as he explored every curve, every inch of your skin. You moaned into his kiss, your body arching against his, seeking more of his touch.

"You need to tell Barry that you aren't coming to dinner," Cillian growled, his voice low and demanding as he trailed hot, wet kisses down your neck, his stubble rough against your skin.

"Oh shit, I had forgotten about him already," you gasped, your head falling back to give him better access, your body already aching with need.

"Just tell him you're busy," he insisted, his teeth grazing your collarbone, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

"Fine," you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. "I'll text him. Just don't stop," you gasped, your body writhing beneath him, your hips grinding against his cock, the thick, hard length of him pressing against your clit through the layers of our clothes.

While you reached for your phone to message Barry, Cillian's fingers found the hem of your dress, pulling it up and over your head, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of your breasts, barely contained in your lace bra.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he growled, his voice low and primal as he leaned down, his mouth capturing one of your nipples through the lace, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core while you tried to text Barry.

After you sent the message, the phone fell out of your hands and landed on the bed and you did not care. He was too busy kissing and sucking your breasts, his hands roaming over your body.

"Oh god, Cillian," you gasped, your body arching off the bed, pressing against him while he tried to take off his t-shirt. "I need you to fuck me , please," you begged, your voice breathless and desperate as you watched him take off his t-shirt.

Cillian's eyes darkened with lust, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he quickly unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers, his cock springing free, hard and thick, the head glistening with pre-cum. You reached out, your fingers wrapping around his shaft, stroking him gently, feeling the velvety softness of his skin, the hardness beneath.

"Take off your panties," he ordered, his voice a low growl as he ripped the lace bra off you, tossing it aside.

You quickly complied, shimmying out of your underwear, your body aching with need. Cillian's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, bare and exposed, your legs spread wide for him. He groaned, his cock twitching in your hand, a drop of pre-cum beading at the tip.

"Fuck, you're so wet already," he growled, his fingers trailing down your stomach, his thumb circling your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You moaned, your hips bucking against his touch, your body aching for more.

"Cillian, please," you begged, your voice breathless and desperate. "I need you inside me. I need to feel you."

Cillian's eyes darkened with lust, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your wet folds. "Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice low and gruff, his eyes locked onto yours, a challenge in his gaze.

"God, yes," you moaned, your body trembling with anticipation. "I want you to fuck me, Cillian. I want you to fuck me hard," you demanded, your voice laced with desperation and need. "I want to feel every inch of you inside me."

Cillian's eyes flashed with hunger, his jaw clenching as he slowly pushed into you, the head of his cock stretching you wide, filling you completely. You gasped, your back arching off the bed, your body accommodating his size, the sensation of being filled by him again overwhelming and intense.

"Fuck, you feel good," he groaned, his voice strained as he began to move, his hips thrusting against yours, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease, despite your tightness.

"So do you ," you gasped, your nails digging into his back, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. "Harder, Cillian. Fuck me harder."

Cillian's eyes darkened, a low growl escaping his throat as he complied, his hips snapping against yours, his cock pounding into you with a force that stole your breath. The bed creaked and groaned beneath you, the headboard banging against the wall with each brutal thrust. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, a raw, primal symphony that sent shivers of pleasure down your spine.

Cillian's body was slick with sweat, his muscles tensed and flexing with each powerful thrust. You could feel every inch of him, the thick, hard length of his cock stretching you wide, filling you completely, hitting that sweet spot deep inside that made your toes curl and your vision blur.

"Fuck, Y/N," Cillian grunted, his voice low and strained, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity in his gaze sending a thrill through you.

You moaned, your body writhing beneath him, your hips meeting his thrusts with equal force.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chanted, your voice breathless and desperate. "Just like that, Cillian. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

Cillian's eyes were wild, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he pounded into you, his muscles tensed and flexing. "I won't stop," he grunted, his voice low and primal. "I can't stop. You feel too fucking good."

You reached up, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him down to you, your lips crashing against his in a fierce, hungry kiss.

His mouth was hot and demanding, his tongue invading your mouth, exploring, claiming. You could taste the salt of his sweat, the faint hint of mint on his breath, and it only served to heighten your arousal. His hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh, holding you in place as he pounded into you, his cock sliding in and out of your wet, eager pussy with ease.

The room was filled with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, the wet, obscene sounds of sex, the low, primal grunts and moans that escaped from both of your throats.

It didn't last long. It was as if the room had been set on fire and the two of you were the flames. You could feel it in the way his body moved against yours, the way his muscles tensed and flexed with each powerful thrust. You could see it in the way his eyes darkened, the way his breath came in ragged gasps, the way his jaw clenched with each grunt of pleasure. You could hear it in the way his voice grew hoarse, the way his words became more and more desperate, more and more filthy.

Him fucking you like this, raw and primal, made you cum hard and fast. You could feel your orgasm building, a coil of tension deep in your belly, ready to snap at any moment.

"That's it, Y/N," Cillian grunted, his voice low and strained, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity in his gaze sending a thrill through you. "Cum for me," he demanded, his voice a low growl as he pounded into you, his cock sliding in and out of your wet, eager pussy with ease.

You moaned, your body writhing beneath him, your hips meeting his thrusts with equal force. "I'm close," you gasped, your voice breathless and desperate. "So close, Cillian. Just a little more." You panted, your body trembling with the force of your impending orgasm until, after ten minutes or so, you came.

It was explosive, your body convulsing around him, your inner walls clenching tightly around his cock, milking him for all he was worth. You screamed his name, your voice raw and desperate, your body arching off the bed, pressing against him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. "Cillian! Fuck, Cillian, I'm cumming!" you cried out, your voice hoarse with exertion, your body shaking with the force of your release.

Cillian's eyes darkened, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he watched you cum, his cock still pounding into you, his hips moving faster, his body tensing as he chased his own release.

"Fuck, Y/N," he grunted, his voice low and strained. "You're so fucking beautiful when you cum. I can't get enough of you," he groaned just before, he too, climaxed. His body tensed, his muscles flexing as he drove into you one last time, his cock pulsing deep inside you, filling you with his hot, sticky seed. You could feel every jet of it, the warmth spreading inside you, marking you as his.

"Fuck, Y/N," he grunted, his voice low and strained, his body shaking with the force of his release. "You feel so fucking good."

You moaned, your body milking him, your inner walls clenching tightly around his cock, drawing out every last drop of his cum.

Cillian collapsed on top of you, his body slick with sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, the steady rhythm a soothing lullaby after the storm of your passion. His cock was still hard inside you, pulsing with the remnants of his release, and you couldn't help but clench around him again, drawing a low groan from his throat.

"You're going to fucking kill me, Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and husky, his lips brushing against your ear and you knew that this was just the first of many times that night.

As you were up to your third time however, there was another knock on the door to your tiny studio apartment.

It was a light tap, but it was enough to make you both freeze, your bodies still entwined, hearts pounding in sync. Cillian's eyes widened, and he quickly pulled out of you, his cock still glistening with your combined releases. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a giggle at the absurdity of the situation. Cillian, on the other hand, looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

"Y/N, it's Barry," came the voice from the other side of the door. It was soft and gentle, but it cut through the air like a knife.

Cillian's eyes widened as he looked at you, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Did you text him?" he asked, his voice low and desperate, his eyes searching yours. "I thought you had texted him."

"I did," you whispered back, your voice barely audible, your heart pounding in your chest. "I swear, I did. He shouldn't be here."

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91 notes · View notes

shuenkio · 2 days ago

Text

𝖳𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝖾? | 성훈 -⁠ᄒ⁠ᴥ⁠ᄒ⁠-

Paring: Sunghoon X M!reader

Synopsis: A friend benefits but you have the audacity to ask him to be your boyfriend again when he thought he's already yours?

Genre: Fluff. Cw: a bit freaking at last.

Non proof read. English is not my 1st.

You have always been a hater of friends with benefits for your whole life but it seems like when it was Sunghoon, he was your exception. Why not though when the Park Sunghoon guy is the most hottest and gorgeous man you've ever seen in this whole campus. Ofc you did accept his deal without even thinking.

On the other hand, Talking about how Sunghoon got his nose on you, it was like lightning struck love, the first sight he saw in you he must get you around his fingers, instantly, the thought to own you was so powerful but not until he realizes if he ask you to be his, just by the first appearance of you, would probably be so weird to even sound so that's why he come up with a deal instead. "Friend with benefits." They both fucked, make out, kissed, hang out like a real damn couple and that's not enough to make you feel the spark, to know is was all Sunghoon silly intentions, oblivious even when the taller is completely obvious but not until—

It's been a long time, days turn into week, week turn into months for 12 times. It was a cold evening when Sunghoon asked you out as usual for a date. Excited about consuming you, once the clock strikes 7, you're all good to go, all fit and clean. As if he's your soon-to-be boyfriend.

"aren't you giddy than usual? Take the wrong medicine again!?" Stare down at your sight, scanning with his brows tied together, either he was suspicious or he was weird out by your sudden side. Shrug your small shoulder, you adjust your top while palm close together, smiling at him like an awkward puppy. Sunghoon jotted his lip unsure before driving them both to the destination.

The dinner went off smoothly, the atmosphere was your favorite. A warm glow from candles and fairy lights bathes the cozy dining table. A linen-covered table holds elegant plates, steaming dishes, and crystal glasses. Soft music hums in the background, blending with quiet laughter and the clink of silverware. Plush chairs invite lingering, as wine pours smoothly and the evening unfolds in gentle warmth. you finished your dinner before Sunghoon does, to gather your heart and encourage to ask him something you've always wanted to. It's like he was a quiz you were the student, both nervous and excited, can't explain how much your cheeks hurt from the thought of him, would accept you even if there's a low chance you think he'd rejected you, but give it a shot right? At least worth a try.

Your peculiar behavior is odd enough to make him dizzy, to ask what's exactly what's wrong with you for real.

"okay m/n tell me what's going on with you? You need more money? Robux? Or what? You weird tf out of me" Sunghoon claim, swirling his glass of wine as he gulped down into his throat, clicked his tongues off of the strong tastes.

"you won't be mad if I have to let my thoughts out?" Your jaw tense up, feeling anxious that you could bite off your finger nails. The answer is only to burn Sunghoon's curiosity more. He finally let out a deep stressing sigh, composing himself to what will come toward him with your sweet mouth.

"I think I like you... Boyfriend?" face burning, quickly hides behind your hands, fingers barely able to contain your own nervous tremble. Your heart races—too fast, too loud—as the weight of this confession lingers between them. Sunghoon roots in his seat, with an easy posture, raises an eyebrow and glances at you with a half-smile, as if the situation is no big deal.

"Wait," Sunghoon says nonchalantly,

"I thought we already were dating?am I dumb or you are" He shrugged casually, as if the confession wasn’t anything new, Sunghoon tone light and carefree. He messaged his temple, so stunned with this encounter.

"I mean... You think we are? I— that's good" face turning crimson, scratches the back of your head awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. Your gaze flickers everywhere but at him, unable to hide the nervousness building up inside. You just nod slowly, unsure if he'd just made things more complicated or clearer.

"you're still not sure, maybe I should fuck until my dick leaking nonstop of you instead to know if we dating or not— aigoo"

Funtalk: I might do my experience this week 😝 guess who in skz? Well idk too—

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jenniferjareauwife · 1 day ago

Text

Work Stress

pairing: billie eilish x fem reader

category: fluff

warnings: anxiety

word count: 629

summary: you get home after a stressful work day and billie comforts you

I came home with a heavy weight on my shoulders. It had been a rough few days, Billie was spending her free time making music which inevitably meant less time with her but I was stuck at work with meeting after meeting with nothing but anxiety weighing on me.

I set my bag down on the kitchen counter before retreating to Billie and my's shared bedroom.

There she was, headphones on, notebook in hand. Scribbles of art written all over the pages with one liners next to almost all of them. I wanted more than anything to get in bed next to her but she was busy and I didn't want to disturb her so I just walked to the bathroom to take off my makeup. "Hey baby." I couldn't help but feel my heart melt at her sweet voice.

"Hi." It came out as a whisper and I looked to her as she took off her headphones.

"Everything alright?" She leaned on the doorframe, her brows furrowed a bit as she tried to read me.

"Long day." I sighed and leaned against the counter with my hands, giving her a small frown.

"You could've texted me. I would've faked a car crash so you could leave work." I laughed along with her.

"Aw I really should've shouldn't I?"

"Well that's what I'm for, right?" I pretended to give it some thought but I eventually just agreed with her.

"It's not that I don't like my job." I started. "It can just be a fuck ton sometimes."

"I know sweet girl, I know." She took me into her arms, placing a kiss on my forehead.

"We should just live on an island or something."

"I agree. Have a few parrots." I laughed at the thought.

"We could create a civilization. Create a new language." I offered. She giggled and rubbed my back. "Come on baby, let's get you into some more comfortable clothes." She guided me to the bed before starting to undress me, starting with everything on top before removing everything on bottom.

"It's chilly. Hoodie?" She smiled and nodded, already reaching for her hit me hard and soft hoodie that was laying on the floor. It smelled like her, making my body relax.

"What else can I do for you my love?"

"Hm. I mean...I think I'm just really tired, you know? Kinda wanna settle down. You can go back to writing if you want, I just want your company."

"No baby, I've spent all day writing, I'm here for you." She pulled the covers up over me before getting comfortable next to me. "Any shows? Books?"

"I don't really know. Kinda was just looking forward to you."

"You're so cute." She kissed my nose before pulling the hood up over my head.

"Ew it's gonna mess up my hair."

"It's cute." She shrugged as I pulled the hood down, my hair already messed up. "You're so pretty." I scrunched up my nose and leaned into her, burying my face in her neck. "I'll tell you what. For this weekend, I'll cancel my studio times."

"Why?" I pulled my head out of her neck, a quizzical look on my face.

"To spend more time with you, help you through this bit of anxiety." She ran her fingers gently through my messy hair. "I'm sorry I haven't been here." She had a small frown on her face that I quickly kissed away.

"It's okay. I know you have multiple priorities, I can't expect you to be around all the time." I laughed softly, trying to make her feel a bit better.

"Okay." She smiled. "But if you ever feel this way at work again, remember, car crash." She held out her pinky, linking it with mine.

"Car crash."

#x reader #billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #wlw post #lgbtq #billie eilish x fem!reader #sapphic

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seitmai · 3 days ago

Text

Many thoughts...

You hadn't opened your eyes yet when you felt Bucky’s fingers brush along your stomach in an almost hypnotic motion. You didn't know what time it was or what was going on in the world outside, but you knew you were in his arms and would be in his bed soon enough. Sleeping with someone next to you wasn’t something you were completely used to. It had been so long, and when it did happen it was always by choice.

Yeah choice is not really an option here ��

“See, here's the thing…” You suddenly pulled yourself from his grasp and turned in time to smack him in his face with the pillow. His shocked expression was worth it. “I don’t remember the rest of my dream because some entitled jerk pounded on my door in the middle of the night and punched a hole in the wall.”

Fair 🤷🏻‍♀️

You did it again, your frustration fueled more as he kept laughing. “Sleep is precious to me,” you said, nodding to his lower region. “You’re lucky I don't smack that with the pillow.” He took it from your grasp before you could try. “Okay, it was shitty of me to show up when I did. I’ll give you that,” he said, reaching out to touch your cheek. “But I really did miss you.”

Shitty is an understatement

“Fuck, doll, I’m so hard for you,” he moaned. You counted to three in your head and brushed your teeth a little harder, faster, trying to block him out. Maybe if you ignored him he'd shut his mouth. Maybe. “Are you wet for me? Come to bed and let me take care of you. I'll make you melt on my tongue.”

Not even peace and quiet while brushing your teeth, my nightmare 🥲

You swallowed hard, but smiled. “Coffee with cream and sugar, eggs sunny side up, and bacon, right? Right,” you said, proudly walking with confidence from the room. “Clean up after yourself when you’re done.” “I’ll clean you up, too, after I make a mess of you,” he stated, a long moan following as you plopped down on the sofa.

Good god, you can't even ask about a breakfast order with him🥴

“Not really,” he admitted, setting the food out with a frown. “Orgasms take the edge off, but having you close and not having you is difficult.” “Sounds like a you problem,” you uttered.

Hahahaha so true 😂

You were glad for that as well. “Well, it was nice resting somewhere that didn’t have cameras or bugs around the place. Natasha was also nice to talk to,” you said. Meeting her didn’t fully ease your stress, but she helped. Bucky ignored the camera comment.

Of course he did 🤦🏻‍♀️🙄

Likely because of whatever she experienced growing up she looked out for others, though you wondered if part of it was because you were Bucky’s girl. “She offered me a place here in case I ever need space or time to myself., I plan to take her up on that offer.” He was quiet for a moment. “Because you don’t want to be near me.”

🙄😒🙄😒

“She stopped and put a hand to her head while her friend kept walking. I could tell something was wrong and before I knew it I rushed toward her and grabbed her hand when she started to collapse. I pulled her out of the way just in time before a speeding car hit her,” you explained, remembering it like it was yesterday. Your heart had raced so fast when she crumpled in your arms. “Her friend understandably freaked out and flagged a car down to take her to the hospital. She kept thanking me for saving Winnie, but I was still worried about her.” “Winnie.” Bucky swallowed hard and loosened the hold on your hand. “That was her name?”

Oh 👀

“I lied to you during our first date when I said I wish you could’ve met my mother. You did meet her and she did love you,” he said, showing you a photo in his wallet. It was a younger picture of Bucky. He looked full of life and the woman smiling was the very woman you pulled out of the path of the car. “You just didn’t know it.”

🥺🥺🥺

“And imagine my surprise when I had my men look into you just to get facial recognition footage of you saving my mom on the street that fateful day. And footage from the hospital with you sitting there talking with her, bringing her happiness without asking for anything in return,” he said, cupping your cheek as you tried to get over the shock. “I knew I wanted you the moment I saw you, but that just solidified it more. You saved my mom, and gave me more time with her. That’s something that no one else could ever give me.”

That seems a little overkill if you ask me, a simple thank you are a nice bouquet would have been enough

Your lip trembled. You saved his mom’s life, gave him more time with one of the only people he seemed to love and respect. No, that couldn’t be. That couldn’t have been you. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “Because I had scared you enough. Would you have listened or believed me if I told you that so soon?” he asked gently.

That truly doesn't really make it better lol

“Don’t you see now why I’m so desperate to keep you close? To keep you safe? Had I looked into it then, we could’ve met and been together this whole time,” he said, pressing his forehead to yours. “But it’s okay. Fate stepped in and brought us together now.” He traced your lips with his thumb. “We’re going to make up for all the lost time, and never be lonely again, Kotyonok. That’s a promise.”

Promises can be broken, right? 🫣

Something fell apart inside you and you weren’t sure when you began to openly weep, but he silenced your cries with his lips. Maybe he was crying, too, you couldn’t be sure, but he held you tight against him and didn’t let go. You didn't fight him, couldn't fight him. You were the one who asked for answers after all and you got them, didn’t you? And knowing what you knew now, walking away from Bucky was never going to be an option. He would never allow it. Fate wouldn't allow it either.

💔💔💔

Hold You Tight: Part 15

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 14 | Series Masterlist | Part 16

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.6k

Chapter Summary: You learn the root of Bucky's obsession with you.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, masturbation, dirty talk, tension, backstory, reference to stalking, inner turmoil, slight feels, talk of violence, angst, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and this chapter is... something. Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You hadn't exactly kicked Bucky out though, had you? No, you invited him in. If only to prevent him from putting another hole in the wall. Natasha said she’d bill him for it, but you were going to make Bucky pay her extra for the inconvenience.

“I know you’re awake,” he murmured, his lips touching your neck. “Your breathing changed.”

“Mmm. You listen to me breathe?” you mumbled. That tracked for him.

“It’s a beautiful sound,” he said, your eyes finally opening when he pulled you closer. Whether it was sleep, being beside you, or both, it had an effect on his… anatomy. You went still when he rocked his hips once, letting you feel just how hard he was. “God, waking up beside you is a dream come true.”

Your fingers dug into the pillow under your head as he rolled his hips again. His fingers didn't drift south, didn't tug at your pajamas. He also didn't stop that slow grind and you hated that a bit of wetness gathered between your thighs. “Did you have good dreams?” you asked, your voice surprisingly even.

“Mmm. I had very good dreams,” he answered, his voice rough. “Would you rather I tell you or show you?”

Neither. That was what you told yourself. “What about me?” you asked. “You don’t want me to tell you about my dreams?”

“Tell me,” he urged, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I dreamt about you, Bucky. You laying beside me in bed, holding me close. Just like this,” you said, his groan permeating your skin. “Do you want me to keep going?”

His teeth gently sank into your shoulder, making you gasp. “Yes,” he growled.

“Okay,” you smiled, pushing your hips back just a little to tease him. “I dreamt that you touched me. So hot it made me feel like I was on fire.”

Another groan escaped. “Where, Kotyonok? Where did I touch you?” he asked, his voice strained.

He chuckled as he sat up, his hair falling in his eyes. It was a gorgeous sight and it wasn't fair. “Did you just hit me with a pillow?”

You did it again, your frustration fueled more as he kept laughing. “Sleep is precious to me,” you said, nodding to his lower region. “You’re lucky I don't smack that with the pillow.”

He took it from your grasp before you could try. “Okay, it was shitty of me to show up when I did. I’ll give you that,” he said, reaching out to touch your cheek. “But I really did miss you.”

“I understand that, but it was one day,” you argued, shivering when his thumb moved along your skin. He went a single day without you and lived to tell the tale.

Pain filled his eyes. “But I already went so long without you.”

You sighed, pulling away and searching for your phone so you could check the time. “I need caffeine before we have our talk.”

Bucky looked down at himself. “And I need to take care of this.” He smirked at your expression. “Don't worry. As much as I want to be inside you, our first time won't be here.”

That was a relief. “But you do plan to fuck me here at some point.”

“Natasha let that slip, huh?” He stood up with a stretch and you looked away. “I plan to make love to you and fuck you, too. The best of both worlds.”

“How considerate.” You stretched, too, his eyes following you. “Let me use the bathroom before you jerk off in there, please.”

“You're welcome to listen,” he smiled.

He’d probably put on a show if he knew you were listening. “I’m going to sit in the other room once I’m done and order breakfast. Would you like anything?”

He looked touched that you considered that. “Coffee with cream and sugar, eggs sunny side up, and bacon, please.”

“Okay,” you said, rushing to the bathroom before he could follow.

“I might just jerk off in bed if you’re in there,” he called out as you shut the door.

“Be my guest!”

You swore you heard a chuckle as you went about your business, going to the bathroom, brushing your teeth. Ignoring him didn’t last when you heard a soft groan. Jesus, the man had absolutely no shame.

“Fuck, doll, I’m so hard for you,” he moaned.

You counted to three in your head and brushed your teeth a little harder, faster, trying to block him out. Maybe if you ignored him he'd shut his mouth. Maybe.

“Are you wet for me? Come to bed and let me take care of you. I'll make you melt on my tongue.”

Spitting harder in the sink than you needed to, you gripped the porcelain once you rinsed your mouth out. You had no doubt he’d eat you out like a starved man. Would he make you take him in your throat soon? Fuck your face until you drooled and cried or would he be gentle and let you get used to the weight of him on your tongue?

“I know you can hear me.” His voice was sinful, dark, and you scrubbed your skin so hard when you washed your face you were stunned you didn’t hurt yourself. “Sure you don’t wanna come out and see what you do to me? Maybe show me your pretty pussy? I can jerk off on it and spread it all over those pretty lips.”

You bit your lip, wishing your knees didn’t feel weak. “Bucky, please.”

He groaned louder, his breathing labored. Your breathing was a little heavier, too. “Say it again, I’m almost there.”

All you had to do was open the door to see if his pupils were dilated, if there was heat in his cheeks. Was his hair still a mess from sleeping? Would he make a show of stroking his cock? “Bucky, hurry up,” you demanded.

He chuckled, a breathy sound. “Can’t wait for you to say that before I fuck you.” Your eyes shut as he let out another obscene groan. “Before I fill you full of me.”

“Just go to the sitting area,” you muttered to yourself, not looking at your reflection in the mirror.

You left the bathroom with the hope of avoiding his gaze, but you made the mistake of looking at the bed. He was in the middle of it, looking every bit like a king. His lower half was covered by the blanket, but you could see that his right hand was under there, still stroking himself. His chest heaved, his eyes half lidded as you stared at each other. You had to break yourself from that spell, even if the man was jerking off to the thought of you.

“Like what you see?” he rasped.

“I’ll clean you up, too, after I make a mess of you,” he stated, a long moan following as you plopped down on the sofa.

Guess he finished.

Once it was quiet enough in the bedroom, you ordered breakfast. You still needed a shower, if only to cool yourself off and get rid of the wetness that seeped out thanks to Bucky. You weren’t sure if you trusted him not to join you or try to watch and had a feeling he’d make you shower and bathe with him once you moved in.

Bucky, for his part, didn’t come out until there was a knock on the door minutes later. Any trace of his earlier transgression was gone, looking more put together, but there was still tension in the air. You remained silent as he thanked whomever was at the door once he checked the breakfast cart himself and wheeled it to the small table. He even pulled out a chair for you, staring at you with a soft gaze until you went to join him.

“Feel better?” you asked.

“Not really,” he admitted, setting the food out with a frown. “Orgasms take the edge off, but having you close and not having you is difficult.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” you uttered.

He sat down and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Why did you invite me in this morning?”

“I told you I was tired,” you said, which you were.

He hummed, taking a bite of his eggs. “You could’ve told me to leave, have Natasha call security, anything, but you didn’t do any of that. You didn’t make me sleep on the sofa either,” he said with a knowing smile. “Admit it, you wanted me in bed with you.”

“I will not admit that,” you said quickly. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

He shrugged. “Maybe you were testing to see if I’d stay true to my word and not force myself on you or maybe you actually missed me more than you want to admit to yourself. Either way, I’m glad you did. Best sleep I can remember in a long time.”

Admitting anything would be admitting defeat and you couldn’t do that to yourself. “It wasn’t even a full night’s sleep,” you pointed out. It was after two in the morning when he showed up.

“Doesn’t matter. I still slept well because I was holding you,” he smiled softly, nodding to your plate. “Please, eat. The food here is really good.”

You poked your food around before you dug in. He said things like that and it fueled your guilt for not giving in or fully accepting your new life. You weren’t going to romanticize anything he did though.

“You said we had some things to talk about,” he said after a minute. “I’m all ears.”

You took a large sip of your coffee first. “Yeah, like Ray following me. It was meant to be a day to myself and you had me followed,” you said, watching for his reaction. As expected, he didn’t look the least bit ashamed. “I don’t expect an apology from you because you’ll harp that it was for my own good, but you can understand my frustration that you didn’t let me know, right?”

That was one of the things that bothered you the most. The half answers and missing pieces and being kept in the dark. How much of it was for your own good and how much was it because he didn’t want you frightened more?

“I did have you followed and my instinct proved to be correct that you needed eyes on you. Also proves that you need to move in as soon as possible,” he said, your heart sinking. Of course he was twisting this to justify himself and get what he wanted. “But I get your frustration. It’s a big change for you, having eyes on you at all times.”

“Because of you.” You ignored the flicker of hurt in his eyes. This was all because he chose you. “Why Ray?”

“He’s good at his job, I trust him, and you seem to trust him,” he replied. You did to an extent. “I’m glad he suggested this place to you since you weren’t exactly interested in spending the rest of your day at home.”

Bucky ignored the camera comment. “She can bend the will of many men to do what she wants,” he said. There was respect there, even a hint of fondness. “Unsurprisingly, she’s protective of you, which is good.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Because you don’t want to be near me.”

Putting your hand on his across the table, he immediately reacted to your touch. It was time to take a lesson from Natasha’s book and sway him. “Because we both need that space and moments to ourselves, just like we both need our friends. And any time apart will only make things more meaningful when we’re back together,” you stressed. Like you were stubborn in accepting your fate, he was stubborn in not wanting separation from you in the slightest. “I already feel like a prisoner of sorts in this relationship, so is it really too much to ask for a bit of a longer leash?”

“I’ll worry when you’re not nearby,” he admitted.

Your heart clenched, but you couldn’t allow that sweetness to manipulate you. “Because of men like Helmut Zemo?” you asked. Bucky gripped his fork tight. “You know, it’s a little convenient that the day you give me to myself is the day he shows up.”

What if it was a ruse for Bucky to not give you more days to yourself?

“I can see why you’d think that. I'd be suspicious if the roles were reversed,” he said, a hardened look crossing his face. “But I don’t want him anywhere near you and wouldn’t set you up that way.”

You were still a little suspicious, but the way Bucky, Ray, and Natasha reacted regarding Zemo told you that none of them had any idea he’d pop up. “Why not?”

“Because he isn’t a good person and shouldn’t have gone near you,” he said. You raised an eyebrow at that. “I’m not a good person either, but he’s something else.”

“What do you mean?” you asked. There was a story there and you needed answers.

“He’s rich, powerful, like me in many ways, but the difference is he once had a wife and kid who were his whole world. Something I’ve longed for and never had.”

You tried not to tense up, but that was where you came in for Bucky. He wanted you to make that dream a reality. “Had?” you asked, noticing he referred to Zemo’s family in the past tense.

Bucky nodded sadly. “A few years ago they were… collateral damage in a deal gone wrong. The loss changed him. He grew colder, more ruthless,” he explained. You were glad you finished eating because you weren’t sure you could stomach a bite after that. “Our work relationship has been shaky ever since then because he blames some of the men I’ve worked with for what happened and I feel like he’s been biding his time and waiting to strike.”

“‘Collateral damage’? It was his wife and child,” you said. Zemo may not have been a good person, but you had no doubt his family was innocent.

“I didn’t mean for it to sound heartless,” he said.

“And what? Him setting his sights on me, is it a game? Is he going to hurt me?” you asked, tears instantly filling your eyes. You were afraid all over again. “Will he try to kill me?” you whispered. Bucky’s associates were loyal to him as far as you knew. If Zemo blamed them in some way, what better way to hurt them than to hurt someone their boss cared about? A loss for a loss.

“No,” he said fiercely, pushing his chair back so fast and hard that it hit the floor. A tear fell when he rushed around, dropping to his knees beside your chair. “I don’t know what his angle is yet, but I’m going to find out and I won’t let him hurt you.”

“How can you guarantee that?” you asked.

“I can’t, but I have to try because I can’t lose you, too,” he whispered, wiping your tears away. “We don’t even have to wait until the end of the month for you to move in. I can have your apartment packed up while you’re out with your friends.”

You pulled away from his touch. “No,” you whispered back. Moving in sooner wouldn't help. “You owe me more answers.”

He let out a breath. “Kotyonok-”

“No!” you snapped, moving back in your chair. “Why are you so obsessed with me? And don’t just tell me that it was the connection of seeing me at the club and realizing we’re two lonely souls meant to be together. There is something there that no one is telling me and I need to know.”

Whether it was for closure or sealing your fate, it would drive you crazy to not know.

Bucky took your hands and pulled you up, a detached look taking over his features as he led you to the sofa. The look frightened you more than his leers or glares. Had you pushed too far?

“I told you my dad was an unfaithful partner to my mom, but he was worse. Much worse,” he began, gently squeezing your hand. “We always had money, more than we knew what to do with, but it was never enough for him. He stole from his partners and was careful to cover his tracks, but he slipped up one day. And when that day came, he shifted the blame to my mom. Convinced them enough that they believed him when everyone knew my mom would never steal a penny.”

Your mouth fell open when he audibly exhaled, a broken sound. “Bucky… I…” You didn’t know what to say.

“They didn’t kill her, but they nearly did. She couldn’t even see me when I showed up because her eyes were so swollen. She was hardly breathing,” he continued in a hurt tone, pulling his hand free of yours to remove the glove from his left hand. Your eyes weren’t deceiving you the night he showed up at your apartment. His hand was made out of some sort of metal. “Lost my arm getting her out of there.”

He held it out so you could touch it. “You lost your arm?” you asked, your fingers grazing the metal ever so gently. You had never seen anything like it.

He shuddered. Could he feel that? “It was worth it for the woman who brought me into this world, raised me, and loved me unconditionally,” he said without regret. “And my dad? He just kept whoring around, and told his associates that she had to learn her lesson the hard way. He couldn't admit the truth.”

Your eyes misted over. How could his dad do that to his mom? To Bucky? “I’m so sorry.”

He blinked rapidly and you wondered if he had tears in his eyes, too. “It took her a long time to recover and she never fully did, but she tried to make the best of it. She still had her spirit, and kept her distance from my dad in our home. Some of my friends even made sure my dad wouldn’t go near her,” he said, smiling wistfully. How could she handle staying there? Was it for her son? “Because she never fully recovered though, I almost lost her again over four years ago.”

“What happened?”

“Before I answer that.” He shifted to face you, awe in his eyes. “Have you ever saved a life?”

“What?” you asked, thrown by the question.

“Have you ever saved anyone?” he asked again.

“No, I’m not a hero. I…” you trailed off before a vivid memory filled your mind. “Actually, I did once.”

“Yeah?” he asked, but he sounded as if he already knew.

“Yeah. There was this older woman walking across the street with a friend or relative one day, I’m not sure,” you said, wincing when he gripped your hand. “Bucky, you-”

“Tell me what happened,” he begged.

“Winnie.” Bucky swallowed hard and loosened the hold on your hand. “That was her name?”

“Yeah.” You gave him a strange look when he inhaled sharply. “I stopped at the hospital to donate flowers like usual and I asked one of the doctors I knew pretty well if anyone named Winnie had checked in. I knew she couldn’t tell me yes or no and I didn’t have any other information to give her, but I did ask if she could make sure she got a vase if she was there.”

“Did you ever see her again?” he asked, his voice thick.

You nodded after a moment. “Yeah, I did. I went back maybe a week later and she spotted me by chance as she was being wheeled to her room. She said I could stop in if I wanted to, so I did,” you smiled softly. “She said my flowers brightened up her room and I asked how she knew they were from me because I never put my name on the cards. She said she just knew. I made sure to bring her flowers the next time I visited.”

A sniffle pulled you from the memory and Bucky looked like he was trying hard not to break down. “You kept visiting her?”

“I did. She didn’t always say much because she was tired some days, but seemed to like it when I read to her. Said her son liked to read to her, too, but I never saw him stop by,” you answered sadly. She was a kind woman and it broke your heart that she didn’t get a lot of visitors. “Then one day, her room was empty. No one could tell me anything. I don’t know if she went home or passed or what happened. It was like she just vanished.’”

“She was brought home before she passed away days later,” Bucky said, his hand shaky as he took his wallet out.

You stared at him. “How do you…” He said he knew you donated specific flowers to the hospital. The same kind of flowers you gave to Winnie. “Bucky, what are you-”

“Winnie…” you whispered, feeling like the wind was knocked out of you. “She was your mom.”

The kind woman you saved by chance was the mother of Bucky Barnes.

“Her full name was Winifred. I only visited her during off hours so it wouldn’t attract any attention. Used a fake last name for her records, too, so no one would know that a Barnes was in the hospital,” he said, tucking his wallet away. “She used to talk about this sweet woman who saved her and brought her flowers, but she couldn’t remember her name. With her mind slipping, it didn’t surprise me and I was too caught up in other things to fully look into it because I knew she was safe and this person didn’t mean any harm.”

Your mouth was agape, trying to process everything when he bitterly laughed. “You…”

“Dad never stopped by, of course. Not that I would’ve let him, the piece of shit.” His metal hand curled as anger flashed across his face. “And this person couldn’t have been like my dad and the cowardly men who thought it was okay to beat up a woman. Men like Alexander Pierce, Brock Rumlow, Jasper Sitwell.”

Those were some of the names Zemo mentioned. “Oh, my god.”

“You know, one of the last things she said to me was that she hoped I found my other half one day. To love her completely, hold her tight, and never let her go,” he said, an odd smile on his face. “I only wish she was alive so she could see us together.”

You gasped. He took those words to heart, twisted them into something dark and possessive. “I-”

“I told you that traditional dating never worked for me,” he cut you off. “Seeing you in my club, it all made sense as to why.”

You couldn't find the words, too lost to speak up if you tried.

“Because I had scared you enough. Would you have listened or believed me if I told you that so soon?” he asked gently.

“I don’t know,” you breathed. You weren’t sure what to think anymore.

And knowing what you knew now, walking away from Bucky was never going to be an option. He would never allow it. Fate wouldn't allow it either.

A lot to unpack there, lovelies! Bucky sort of behaved. He believes fate brought you together . What do you think? And what will happen next? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

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