#i was supposed to continue this but no idea where

[endlesspaint]

Throws this at you (⁠ﾉ⁠≧⁠∇⁠≦⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠ ⁠ﾐ⁠ ⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

| Trapped |

1/?

Context:

Bill trapped Ford in a bubble, screwing his view of reality. In order to trick Ford, Bill has repressed his memories and manipulated him into believing that he lives with Bill back in the shack where they're both working to complete the 'portal'. Bill's goal here is to get the equation he desperately needed in order to escape Gravity Falls.

An important thing to note is that whenever Ford remembers, the whole scenario resets.

[xomakara]

Movie Night Mischief

SUMMARY | You go on tour with your best friends, Mark and Jaemin. You're watching a movie with them one night, when things take an unexpected turn.

PAIRINGS |  Mark x Reader x Jaemin

RATING |  Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

GENRE |  idol!Mark, idol!Jaemin, non-idol!Reader, smut, threesome

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, threesome, female masturbation, fingering, blowjobs, double penetrative sex (vaginal/anal), unprotective sex, dirty talk, praising, pet names, creampies

LENGTH |  5,194 words

TAGLIST |  @shuadotcom

NETWORKS |   @k-vanity @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  I was inspired to write this because of this video. I would have happily sat my ass down lol. MarkMin has been gracing my feed and I'm going absolutely feral over them. Thank you @shadowkoo for the beautiful banner! I'm absolutely in love with it. I hope you all love this fic~ 💚

"Where am I supposed to sit?" you asked, staring down at your two best friends.

Mark and Jaemin looked up at you standing in front of them with a bowl of popcorn. The boys, seemingly forgetting you, exchanged a look. When you were asked to join NCT Dream on tour for TDS3, you jumped at the chance to be a part of the staff, though they were asking a lot more of you than you had originally agreed. All the members had grown close to you throughout your time working as a stylist throughout the years and you became close friends with Mark and Jaemin especially.

And though you knew that relationships could cause problems, not everyone could say the same and your crush on both of them had not gone unnoticed, unfortunately. If Jeno had picked up on it then, the rest had as well, seeing that Haechan teased you the most about your secret crushes. The boys were playing it like they didn't know, but it was very apparent they knew and used any and every moment to torment you. But you weren't sure if Mark and Jaemin knew about your crush on either of them.

"What do you think? Just sit here," Jaemin gestured for you to go ahead and take the place between the two as he patted a little. "Go on, don't make us stop our movie marathon."

With a small scoff, you decided to squeeze into the tiny spot between them. You rolled your eyes, while popping the pieces of popcorn into your mouth. Mark snickered before stretching his arm along the back of the couch so that it could be comfortably placed around your shoulders. Your friend nuzzled himself a bit closer into you until you could feel the heat from his body.

"Ah... this is much better," Jaemin mumbled to no one in particular. You ignored him, as he stretched his arm in the other direction, draping his body even closer. Now you were smothered by both boys and, in turn, the musky, familiar scent of them.

Mark hummed as well as he started eating his own popcorn, and watched the film in front of the television. "Right?"

You rolled your eyes, a small smile on your lips. "What are we watching anyway?"

Mark shrugged. "Honestly, no clue."

"Jaem?" you turned to Jaemin on your left.

The male sighed, "No idea."

"Great," You deadpanned, "I should just leave."

Jaemin shook his head, "Oh no, no... if we're watching, so are you. Now sit your ass down." 

He yanked you back down on the couch and you crossed your arms across your chest. "I should have gone to hang out with Jeno and Haechan instead of spending my time with y'all."

"Excuse you," Jaemin laughed. "You know you'd rather be here with us. Right, Mark?"

"And here we thought you were our best friend!" Mark faked shock, widening his eyes, and opening his mouth with fake hurt.

You shoved the bucket of popcorn in front of his face. "Shut up, and just eat the popcorn."

Mark continued to chomp down the popped kernels and you tried your best not to roll your eyes again, the soft movie sounds humming from the TV. You peeked to see what Jaemin was up to. His eyes were glued on the movie, his fingers picking up a single kernel from the bowl that sat on your thighs and popping it into his mouth. You weren't aware of the soft thumps inside your chest at the simple, innocent, action he had done. Your eyes flickered to his lips that parted with each bite of the snack, the movement almost teasing. He didn't even spare a glance in your direction and you felt that was a good thing.

Mark reached over to pick up a single piece of popcorn too. His hand briefly rested on top of your thigh when he brought it back over. It was a completely accidental and friendly gesture but somehow, you wished that it meant a little more than a harmless, kind movement. His hand had been soft on top of your knee and then slowly crawled up a bit higher than his initial resting place. Your breathing quickened slightly and you bit on your lower lip, glancing at him from your periphery. 

Mark's eyes were on the television but his fingers drummed against the spot on your bare leg where your shorts had ridden up a bit from the position you were in. His thumb tickled the area around the skin and he casually placed a single kernel onto his waiting tongue. Your lips were dry, so you ran your tongue across them to add some moisture. He sucked his thumb into his mouth briefly, making sure the digit was cleaned of any salt he hadn't eaten.

With your eyes trained on the TV, you brought a popcorn piece into your mouth and chewed it thoroughly. There was no need to overthink your feelings for Mark and Jaemin. These feelings would die off in no time.

Little did you know they were gonna be harder to hide.

The movie you were watching started to become a bit risqué. There was a sex scene involved and suddenly you were the one shifting uncomfortably. What was even the name of the movie they had chosen again? You couldn't recall. But apparently, Mark couldn't either, his face scrunching a bit at the scene playing out in front of him.

Jaemin reached over to the bowl and grabbed another piece. You peeked at his side profile and sighed when you knew he was fully engulfed into the movie. Then your attention shifted over to Mark. His brows knitted and he was still chewing the popcorn, eyes watching the TV intently. If you stared hard enough, you could see the subtle flush along his face.

The sound of moaning soon reached your ears and your skin started prickling with nervousness. The sex scenes should not affect you this way—even though it had been a long time since you had experienced an orgasm or someone had fucked you. In fact, you wanted one of those right now. Your stomach was coiling, hot and heavy, as you got hot and bothered from the scene. The actor's heavy panting rang clearly in your ears, causing your mind to think lewd thoughts. You shuffled and you were already uncomfortable under their gaze, your breathing coming out a little heavier than normal.

"You good there, Y/N?" The low, raspy voice of Mark entered your hearing. You cleared your throat and slowly nodded, unable to look into his eyes.

"I'm fine," you squeaked. There was a subtle nod of your head. Mark simply let it go as he kept his eyes in front and you released a breath you didn't know you were holding. With another attempt to look forward, the erotic visuals filled your eyes. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip when the loud groans vibrated throughout the room.

Oh how badly you wished one of them was kissing along the length of your neck, grazing the delicate skin with their teeth and leaving possessive marks on it. Your pulse picked up at the thought, heart pounding hard and fast against your chest as you could feel something pooling in the pit of your stomach. 

Jaemin and Mark were surely doing no better.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Mark subtly adjusting the semi-hard-on forming in his pants. He cursed softly under his breath, the neediness in his voice loud and clear and fuck, if that didn't get you dripping wetter. Jaemin was seemingly worse because you could actually see the tent in his sweats—it wasn't huge but it was just enough to know he was somewhat aroused by this scene. His bottom lip trapped between his teeth, dark eyes intensely focused on the film.

The moaning just increased from the actors. That sound plus the slick sounds of cock and pussy hitting each other was too much. God, you wanted them. They were so fucking handsome, perfect in every way and their ethereal voices made you quiver with want. The sensation between your legs was making the rational thoughts in your head start to dissipate and was clouded with the need to touch Mark, to kiss Mark, to touch Jaemin, to kiss Jaemin.

So, when one of the characters ended the sex scene by moaning the name of their partner loudly, you couldn't hold it anymore. You grabbed onto one of their sleeves and pulled. Mark and Jaemin broke from their lustrous state and they met your flushed and flustered state.

"Fuck me, please. Right now," your words were breathy, rushed and impatient as your chest rapidly heaved from the pent up frustration and arousal coursing through your body. Your knuckles tightened their grip on their shirt, pulling them closer to you as their brows twitched upwards with lust. "I need one of you, right now."

Without hesitation, Jaemin leaned in and captured your lips in a searing kiss while Mark maneuvered his face and mouth next to your ear to let his hot breath hit the delicate skin and whisper sinfully lewd and naughty thoughts into your ears. He began by nibbling your earlobe before planting soft kisses. Then he grazed along the shell with his tongue and the side of his mouth.

The kiss Jaemin and you were sharing was wild with just pure unadulterated lust. You slid your fingers into the hair at the base of his skull, lightly gripping it to bring him closer. Both of your heads shifted and tilted with each lick and bite. Occasionally your lips would detach for a few seconds so you could both catch your breaths. Mark turned your head towards him and captured your lips in his to break yours and Jaemin's connection. It was a warm embrace at first before Jaemin attached his wet and swollen lips onto your neck, licking and sucking with the utmost intent to mark.

Mark's and your kisses were sloppy, wet and rough. The nipping of your bottom lips, the suckling on your tongue and the slurring moans and groans echoed into the shared space of the hotel room. After what seemed to last an eternity, the three of you pulled apart and caught your breath.

"Y/N…" Mark spoke into your ear. Your name sent goosebumps all over your skin as his husky voice reverberated in your hearing. "Baby girl, you know this will change things between the three of us, right? It won't just stop at today."

The palm of his hand slid along your bare skin and it caused the hairs on your skin to stand. He had gotten underneath your t-shirt, thumbing the edge of your shorts, ready to dip it in. He needed some form of consent—as did Jaemin who stared deeply into your eyes, and sucked a red mark on the exposed skin above your t-shirt collar, rubbing soothing circles to calm your nerves.

This was what you wanted—to be touched, kissed, worshipped, by these two. Mark and Jaemin wouldn't do this unless you asked for it. And the thing is, you really did want this. To be touched by the both of them, their hands roaming all over, and giving you so much pleasure it was just enough for a whole week's worth of work.

You leaned back on Mark, head thrown over his shoulder to reach his waiting lips with yours. A hand tugged at Jaemin's neck so you could look straight at him when you agreed.

"I do... now do whatever the hell you want to me," you agreed, your voice barely a whisper.

"Wanna get your sweet and pretty little ass up on the bed and put on a show for us? We wanna see you play with that pretty pussy for us. Put those beautiful fingers inside that soaking and leaking cunt of yours," Jaemin whispered.

Fuck. That was hot.

You shuddered as you stood up and removed the clothes you were wearing. Then you slowly moved up onto the bed until you were propped on your elbows in the center, looking at Mark and Jaemin with a needy yet playful gaze. 

"We want to watch you finger that sweet, juicy cunt. Please, baby," Jaemin requested in his usual honey tone. But it was different, lower, darker and raspier and holy shit if that didn't light the fire of horniness all over in you. You would say Mark and Jaemin could make the dirtiest things sound like pure heaven. 

Hands tugging on the waistband of your panties, you slipped the small piece of clothing off in a painstakingly slow fashion. When that was done, your fingers ghosted on the outline of your mound, following your hand down, as the two men watched intensely. This continued until your digits swirled over your entrance and when it came across a pool of wetness that was spreading steadily and causing your thighs to clench.

Mark groaned loudly, a low, strangled sound, his eyes staring at you in such a way that made you feel utterly devoured. Your pussy tightened as your gaze found Jaemin as he drew his eyes away from the apex of your thighs to stare directly at you and God did you want them, so, so badly.

Mark and Jaemin crawled onto the bed until their presence loomed over your smaller figure.

"Sweetheart, please stick those pretty fingers inside your delicious and soaked pussy. The sooner the better," Mark muttered.

You listened to Mark and shoved your finger into you, your walls tightening immediately around the new feeling. There was a little groan escaping you, too—pure ecstasy. There was nothing more than being fingered and eaten out.

The moan encouraged the males and both started to divest themselves, losing their shirts, sweatpants and boxers, revealing their erect and proud cocks. Precum glistened on the red tip of their cocks, your eyes fixating on the two members and fuck you couldn't believe how lucky you were right now. You took in every last detail of them and damn, it only caused your arousal to become ten times better. 

Jaemin smirked before speaking. "Put another finger inside that little tight cunt."

You complied with his words by adding in a second finger. A sinful mewl resounded in the quiet room. 

Jaemin tutted. "What a naughty little girl, I bet I know what she's thinking of right now."

Mark paused, seeming to ponder before speaking. "Something like getting her mouth on our dicks. Don't you agree, Jaem? To have those plump lips stretched to their limit and moaning as she tastes us on her tongue. Having both of us choke her with our cocks."

There was a purr of approval and an adorable hum. "Mmh, she'd look so cute too." 

Fuck.

This time Jaemin was the one groaning, as both watched you moving your fingers in and out of your hole, your wet and glistening juices practically coating every part of your lower lips. The slide of your fingers in and out was delicious, but it would feel even better when Mark's and Jaemin's dicks would enter you instead. Your nipples tingled as they grew taut and stiff while a needy ache pulsated with growing heat and force.

It was arousing.

It was hot.

And so damn alluring.

"Such a needy little girl," Mark commented and both Jaemin and him now gripped their cocks.

The sight of their leaking and dripping dicks triggered something in you, you could feel yourself dripping as your insides clenched around the two fingers inserted inside and out. But God, were they still not enough. Your thumb moved over to your swollen clit. That bundle of nerves finally got the attention it deserved and you were crying and releasing a low and loud mewl as waves of pleasure vibrated from inside. It was good, very good.

But it still wasn't enough.

No. You wanted more.

"Fuck. That's not—fuck—enough," your voice strained at the end of your sentence as you were heavily panting.

"Tell us what you want," Jaemin stated low and huskily, "Baby, we'll give it to you if you just tell us."

"Your mouths and fingers—" you rasped, gasping between every word, "in…in me."

Mark cooed softly and reached over to cup your cheek with a rough palm. The contact alone made you melt in bliss.

"We can do that baby," Mark pressed his lips briefly to your lips before moving back. "How about Jaemin eats you out while I fill this pretty little mouth of yours with my cock and give you what you desire?"

Your cunt throbbed hard at the mention. That's exactly what you wanted. You removed your fingers and whined softly as that gaping and emptiness could be felt. Mark crawled up to your face with a knowing smile, brushing the pads of his thumbs over your cheeks. He positioned himself over your mouth until his hardened cock was directly over your lips, dripping down precum.

Without delay, you licked it up. The salty flavor and the heavy weight in your mouth made you suckle hard and you gained an animalistic groan from above you. While you tended to Mark, you felt a tongue against your slit as your taste filled his mouth. Jaemin wasted no time in deep-thrusting his tongue past the folds to plunge into your core and groaning at the slick mess already drenching you. His eagerness, and hot tongue massaging against your entrance and folds made you shake, sucking on Mark's cock faster.

Jaemin's hands spread your legs a little wider, your thighs flexing hard and you tried to keep them that way. Your body jerked and jolted every time his lips would lap against your sensitive bud, rolling your hard clit against your teeth. Mark continued to thrust his hips shallowly, unable to keep from fully fucking into the soft and wet depths of your hot mouth.

"You're so good for us, aren't you Y/N?" Mark praised, running a gentle hand through your hair and grinning when he felt your eyes open to look up at him through your eyelashes. "Take every inch, you pretty thing. Stay like that. Take all of me."

Your mouth continued to service him until your gaze rose up and looked at Mark above your frame.

Oh fuck! He looked ethereal—that beautiful, handsome and well-built body covered with a sheen layer of sweat. His throat bobbing from the moans. Those lean yet muscular arms stretched over you, firm and lean. Oh how badly you want to feel that skin. Your whole body is ignited by every touch of those muscular palms. It drove you mad, the scent of his arousal strong.

His lips slightly parted and his jaw muscles straining with restraint, "Fuck. Fuck, Y/N. Y-your mouth."

Without warning, Mark snapped his hips and pushed his full length in, the abrupt action having you gag and wince. His apology fell on deaf ears as you enjoyed the cock stuffed inside your mouth, throbbing on your tongue. Jaemin followed suit as you bucked your hips a little harshly into his mouth, grinding your pussy into him as fast as you could. Your desperation increased as your eyes caught the vision of Jaemin's perfect form between your thighs, his dark head of hair bouncing up and down. Jaemin removed his mouth momentarily, his saliva mixed with your wetness being lapped up. He hummed. "Holy fuck, sweetness. Your pussy tastes so divine. I can't get enough."

Jaemin placed his thick and hot tongue back onto your clit, swirling the muscle against that nerve ending and sucking simultaneously while two fingers roughly slid into you and pumped into a rhythm.

You were reaching a point of oversensitivity, body wrecked under the actions of both Mark and Jaemin, leaving you trembling with carnality.

"So fucking wet. Baby is squeezing my fingers so tight. Will she squeeze around my dick next time?" Jaemin commented while smirking and taking another look at your pussy. He placed a final kiss on your clit before pulling out and planting another onto the fluttering folds and sat back on his heels, as his attention turned towards Mark who was in the same state. Both nodded and removed themselves.

Mark moved over to take Jaemin's spot, his face gliding over the exposed skin of your sides with kisses, until he arrived at your heat. Mark took some seconds to admire the delicious mess which is between your thighs, your swollen lips all dripping in juices. You let out a piteous and faint noise, your neglected cunt flexing over thin air and gifting him with a burst of wetness. 

"Mark, please," your voice was barely recognizable even to your own ears, having lost count of how many times you pleaded. Mark just quirked a dark brow at you.

"Let me taste you a bit first and then you can have my dick," And then his tongue sunk inside, licking up any moisture accumulated. You clawed the bed sheets under the sheer sensation of the heat pooling, curling and breaking your body apart like a bomb. Fingers returned to your pussy, turning every single movement and motion agonizingly intense. 

Fucking intense.

"Please," you wail as your hands dart through his hair, "fuck. Stop teasing. Want your cock. In my pussy. Now, please, now, please, Mark. Please."

"And me, sweet pea?" Jaemin husked at the last syllables before fluttering his long lashes up and down.

"Please. Wanna cum. With both of you." Your voice hitches an octave higher and breathier by the end of the request.

"Anything for our girl," Mark says calmly as he moved away from you.

Jaemin was lying on the mattress, as you crawled your way up him before sinking down, the both of you relishing the feeling. His cock pulsed into your needy and drenched core, the way the plump head spread through your walls.

He then bottomed out, the smooth motion filling you full, full, full. It was a stretch and you loved it. Jaemin, a handsome angel and the epitome of the dream guy everyone could and should ever dream of was buried deep within you.

"Shit, baby. Can you feel my cock, stuffing you up and getting you all wet inside? Fuck. This pretty pussy can't handle this big cock, can you?" Jaemin growled lustfully. "Do you want Mark to fuck your tight ass, baby? Bet that little asshole of yours would stretch so wide. So fucking perfectly."

"Yes," you practically sobbed, the vision only spurring on the all consuming urgency surging through your nerves. "Yes, I need you and Mark to stuff me full…so damn full. Please."

Mark smirked and produced a bottle of lube he picked up from somewhere, before pouring a generous amount over his fingers and dick. After slicking it up, his fingers travelled to your hole, tracing the sensitive entrance before stretching it with his fingers and loosening it until it relaxed. When he noticed your squirming and pleading for his cock to go in, that was when Mark began sinking his hard member in until there was nothing left but his hip and your ass.

The feel of his dick spreading open your inner walls and burying deeply sent shudders through your whole being. The sensation of your holes stretching at both ends made your chest heave.

"Shit," both Mark and Jaemin ground out, coming down from the immediate wave of pure bliss enveloping the three of you.

For a moment they let you adjust, until the buildup of desire in all three of you started to become too much to bear. When they noticed the whimpering noises, they immediately picked up the pace, Mark and Jaemin rolling their hips and snapping in an irregular rhythm.

The both of them were talking now, filthy, lude praises, lewd moans, dirty whispers and naughty nothings in between grunts and sighs and praise. You heard snippets like how gorgeous and perfect you are. How well you are doing. How much of a fucking beautiful kitten and how perfect you look being taken by them. Both dicks deep and pumping hard, the gliding motion pulling frictionless strokes.

"What a perfect pussy and what a sexy little ass. Gonna ruin both and make sure you can't ever think or walk normally. Gonna make you ours," Jaemin grinded hard.

"Feels so good...you both feel so fucking good," was the response he got from you, accompanied by mewls. "Fu-ck. Shit. Please. Harder."

"How does Mark feel, baby?" Jaemin coos softly, petting your hair slightly as if rewarding a good kitty.

"Good," you sighed, "good, he's really filling me and stretching me."

Mark's groans grew more heated at the confirmation, snapping his hips and pelvis. He leaned in and grunted more erotic words. "You're taking us so well, baby. You're gonna be walking crooked and sore after we're done with you."

"We need her to know we're never letting her go," Jaemin mused.

Your high-pitched screams reverberated off the walls, bouncing into Mark and Jaemin's ear, causing them to chuckle. Your eyes closed to concentrate on the way Mark and Jaemin could command a good and nice pace.

It was intense and erotic.

It was messy and hot.

It was unravelling.

It was sheer pleasure.

You were being consumed whole.

"Baby, your moans," Mark stated breathily. "Such sweet, heavenly and pleasing noises. And that's coming from us. From two cocks filling both of those delicious holes."

"Be louder," Jaemin suggests. "Scream for us louder. Let the rest of the members know who's making you feel this good. That you're only ours."

You squeaked as Mark brushed your hair gently to the side so that he could kiss the nape of your neck and collarbone. His touches were electric as his palm rubbed and squeezed the swell of your breasts and caressed your body sensually. He switched it up occasionally, applying light kitty licks and bites and harsh sucks, taking note of your sweet noises and what parts of you brought forth that sort of reaction. You squirmed against the sheets, one hand gripping the cotton of your pillow tightly, the other draped on Jaemin's bicep.

"Fuck," you whimper as they kept pumping mercilessly, pleasure unfurling and rolling inside you, unfocused with nowhere to go. "Shit. Fuck."

"Tell us what you want Y/N," It was a low rumble coming from Jaemin. "Just say it."

"I—I wanna cum," you whimpered.

"We want that too, baby," Mark mumbles right into your ear. His breathing sounds jagged. You're pretty sure you weren't the only one going out of your mind with anticipation. "Cum for us, baby."

"Y-yes. A-ah…ha…" You whine, choking up a throaty scream as the loud squelch echoed along the room in the rhythm of the pounding, joined by a deep grunt here and there from Jaemin and Mark. "M-Mark, please...Jaem...J-just."

"That's a good girl," Mark states as his palms massage the curves and dips of your body as Jaemin takes turns running his teeth and lips against the side of your neck and over your delicate shoulder, rough and passionate. 

"Take every inch, beautiful. We'll leave you satiated and stuffed full. Mark is gonna fill your tight ass full of cum, whilst I cum deep inside your lovely pussy," Jaemin huskily added, voice dark and coarse.

You groaned, keenly aware of how full and hard they are inside of you. Oh how badly you wanted the boys to reach their peaks. How you wished Mark and Jaemin's powerful bodies would shudder and convulse as euphoric pleasure ripped through. How badly you wanted Mark and Jaemin's expressions twisted into sweet bliss and then dissolved in ecstasy.

"That's it, baby. We're right here," Mark soothed, voice dripping with affection and fondness, "Take all the pleasure you can get."

"Oh, shit. So good. Yes. Shit!" you finally reach your limit and tip over the edge, gushing and convulsing with a loud drawn-out whimper.

Both Mark and Jaemin fuck you right through it, milking both orgasms. They only lasted a few minutes longer, finally spilling and letting ropes of cum paint and coat your insides. Mark groaned from above you, a sound so sexual and captivating and Jaemin stifled a moan in the crook of your neck. They kept their cocks for a minute and came down from their respective highs before withdrawing from both stretched holes. Cum dribbled down your lower lips, pooling the bed sheets.

There was a silence before Jaemin and Mark cuddled closer to you from each side, the both of them panting heavily until the room was filled with deep inhales and exhales.

"Can…we do that again?" You manage to voice, surprising Jaemin and Mark with the bold statement.

They responded by bursting into soft chuckles. Jaemin made a noise. "That's asking a bit too soon, isn't it princess?"

"No…like, during your tours, when we go back home. In your free time.  I-If it's not inconvenient with schedules, of course," you rush out. 

Mark raised his brows. "Are you sure, Y/N?"

"Uh, y-yeah," you gulp a breath. "I really enjoyed this. But only if you want to as well."

"Believe me princess," Jaemin purred softly. "We love being with you as much as you love being with us."

"Of course we would like to. Our place is with you no matter what," Mark interjects, his soft hands smoothing down your messy and sweaty hair before slipping an arm around you and pulling you against his warmth. The affection made you blush even more. Mark nudges his nose and kisses the top of your head. “Besides, I did say this was going to change between the three of us right? That this won't stop at today.”

"Who would have thought that I'd fuck my best friends," you breathe out, staring at the ceiling in complete bliss.

"We should have done this a long time ago. Next time we do this again, let's bring Jeno with us," Jaemin admits cheekily, the utter statement catching you by surprise.

You slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Excuse me, sir. How bold."

Mark laughed. "I don't think I want to share Y/N with the others, Jaemin. Only us two are enough for this lovely lady."

"Ah, I'm kidding," Jaemin winks before tilting his head. "Mostly." He wags his brows playfully, making you groan and hit him lightly. Jaemin grinned before dragging your palm and placing a kiss on the inside of it. "Relax baby, you have our hearts wrapped around your finger."

Mark hummed in agreement and buried his face into the crook of your neck and placed a tender, heartfelt kiss and patted your thighs. He mumbles sleepily into your ear and you hear Jaemin repeating the gesture, the two voices simultaneously filling your eardrums. "We're yours, and you are ours. I'm sure this is going to be the start of something new and good. Don't worry." 

You relaxed, letting their breathing and the warmth of their skin lull you to a peaceful sleep, right alongside them and in their arms.

[stylesispunk]

"Eternal whispers of you"

marcus acacius x f!reader

Summary: In a time of ancient empires, the forbidden love between a powerful general, Marcus Acacius, and the emperor's sister was met with tragedy. Their affair was discovered, and the emperor cursed his sister to live an eternal life, forced to witness Marcus die in every lifetime without the chance to love him fully again. After a thousand lives, would they meet again?

w.c: 13k (this was supposed to be 8k.)

warnings: angst, power imbalance, loss, separation, mentions of curse, some historical mistakes, the story also takes place in the modern day (I'm telling you) not proofreading. paragraphs in cursive indicate flashbacks.

a/n: This idea was better in my head, but the last Gladiator 2 trailer made me feel things and inspired me to write this. You will also notice inspiration from "The Age of Adeline" in this story. I hope you like it cuz it took me three days to write it. You will notice some inaccurate facts but it was for the sake of the story and my imagination, don't judge me, please. Happy reading and PLEASE share your thoughts with me. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. 💌

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

********"

You were cursed to a life without an ending. Lonely and loveless, every day of your life or any love you could find wouldn't reciprocate and you were going to be condemned to see them grow old and die, and you would continue to live a life in an endless cycle of tragedy.

You were condemned to just tell stories about the man of your life, the one who had been murdered and punished to die without honor for your brother's poisoned mouth.

You became a traitor for the empire. But not cries out of shame or the dirty words of people hurt as much as the day you hold Marcus’s hand for the last time as his eyes closed in a forever eternity that you were going to live without him.

Not even death could put you both together in the same path. You were cursed to remember his love, and you were cursed to never see him again and to live a never-ending life without the love who made your life a field of dreams.

The night after your love affair with Marcus was discovered. The emperor, your brother, furious with your betrayal, condemned both of you. You were summoned to the imperial court, where your brother delivered the punishment. His words sting like venom, cursing Marcus to die dishonorably in front of your eyes.

That night still haunted you.

The imperial court was dimly lit by the flickering flames of torches, casting shadows across the towering marble columns. You stood at the center, your heart pounding like war drums in your chest. Your brother, sat upon his gilded throne, his eyes dark with fury. You could barely hear the words that escaped his lips, but their venom poisoned the air between you.

“Traitor,” he spat, his voice echoing through the chamber. “You have betrayed not only your empire but your blood.”

Your eyes flicked to Marcus, kneeling beside you, bound and bruised. The strong, unyielding general was barely recognizable under the weight of chains and despair. His gaze, however, remained fixed on you, calm, resolute, and filled with love that no curse could shatter.

Your brother’s face twisted with rage as he stood, his robes sweeping the floor like the wings of a vulture. “You,” he snarled, his finger pointing at Marcus, “will die with dishonor, like a common criminal for taking advantage of my sister. And you,” he turned to you, his eyes burning with hatred, “You will be cursed to an eternal life, loveless and alone. You will remember this betrayal every waking moment for the rest of your existence, and you will never know peace again.”

Tears pricked your eyes, but you did not flinch. The emperor’s voice rose like a storm. “You will watch him die, over and over, in your memory. And with every death you witness, you will be reminded that this is your doing. You will live forever, but you will die inside every day.”

With a gesture of his hand, the guards dragged Marcus away. His eyes never left yours, filled with an unspoken promise of love that neither time nor curse could take from you. You reached for him, your fingers grazing his as they pulled him further from you, his touch slipping away like sand between your fingers.

You screamed his name, but your voice was swallowed by the cold, empty hall. The weight of your brother’s words crashed down on you like a wave, and you fell to your knees. The curse had already begun.

The day of Marcus’s execution came far too soon.

They paraded him through the streets like a criminal, his once-glorious armor stripped from him, replaced with the rags of the condemned. The crowd jeered and spat, but you saw none of it. All you saw was Marcus, broken, yet still impossibly strong.

You stood at the front of the crowd, the place of honor reserved for the emperor’s family, forced to witness the final blow. As they prepared to end his life, your heart pounded in your chest, each beat screaming for you to do something, to save him.

But you were powerless.

Marcus turned his head toward you one last time, his eyes soft, filled with a love that had transcended the horror of the moment. His lips moved, forming words meant only for you.

“I will find you again.”

With that, the sword fell.

The world shattered around you. You dropped to your knees as the crowd roared with approval, but the noise was drowned out by the sound of your heart breaking. You clutched your chest, feeling the jagged pieces of your soul tearing at you, but the pain wasn’t enough to free you from the curse. You couldn’t escape. The curse wouldn’t let you.

You watched as Marcus’s body was dragged away, knowing you would never hold him again.

++

After Marcus’ death, you begin to experience your immortality firsthand. You don’t age, but the world around you does. At first, the pain is too great, and you isolate yourself, haunted by the memory of his final moments. You visit his grave every day, talking to him as if he were still alive.

There’s a sense of numbness, a hollow ache where his presence used to be. You realize the gravity of your curse the first time you notice gray hairs on the friends and people around you, but none on yourself. While others grow old and die, you remain the same, a constant in a world of change.

You slowly started to see the empire fall, and with it the death caught your family, one by one. Geta was the first, the middle of a family you now considered cursed. The, your mother and father met the same fate, and finally, Caracalla met death too, murdered by a soldier. He died without honor and he would be remembered as the cruelest imperator, you would make sure of it.

You were the only left from the fallen family, you could have saved the empire from breaking into pieces, but you weren’t going to sacrifice any second from your eternal life on it, so you erased yourself from Rome and from the history of it.

You left Rome behind, watching the city fall to ruin, its power crumbling with each passing year. The empire you had once known, that had been ruled by your family, was now a memory, a fading echo in the vastness of time. You no longer belonged there, and you had no desire to preserve what had been lost. The weight of your curse consumed you, drowning out any loyalty you might have once felt.

Instead, you wandered, drifting across continents and centuries. At first, you tried to hide, retreating to the furthest corners of the earth, away from people, away from the pain of watching those around you wither and die. Each new connection, each fleeting friendship, was a reminder of the man you could never forget, of Marcus's warm touch and his promise to find you again, unfulfilled.

But the world was relentless, and no matter how much you tried to isolate yourself, it continued to grow, to change. Civilizations rose and fell, each one leaving its mark on history, yet you remained untouched by time. You began to realize the truth of your brother’s curse, not just the eternity of your life, but the eternal loneliness that accompanied it.

The worst part wasn’t just the loss of your family or Marcus’s death; it was the fact that no matter where you went or how much time passed, you could never escape the memory of him. The grief was always there, lingering just beneath the surface, a shadow following you wherever you went. You carried the weight of his death, not just as a memory, but as an unending, crushing reality that haunted your dreams and your waking moments.

In the centuries that followed, you watched as kingdoms rose from the ashes of the Roman Empire. You saw the birth of new religions, new governments, new ways of thinking, but you remained on the outside, forever watching, forever unchanged. While others lived their lives, you were a ghost, slipping through the cracks of history, unnoticed and unseen.

But you could never forget Marcus. No matter how hard you tried to distance yourself from the pain, he was always there in your thoughts. His memory became your only companion, the one thing that time could never take from you. You told stories of him, of his strength, his courage, his love, but never revealed the truth. They were just tales to those who listened, history that no one could verify, but for you, they were the only way to keep his memory alive.

You returned to his grave as often as you could, though as the centuries passed, even that became more difficult. The world changed around you, the landscapes shifted, cities were built and destroyed, and the places you had once known became unfamiliar. His grave, once a sacred place for you, was lost to time. It was one of the last connections you had to him, and when it was gone, it felt as though a piece of you had been taken too.

There were moments when you tried to end your existence, hoping to find Marcus in the afterlife. You throw yourself into battles, attempt poison, even seek out dark magic, but nothing works. The curse prevented any harm from lasting.

The curse ensures that you never forget Marcus, his face, his touch, the sound of his voice. You find yourself returning to places that remind you of him, like the old battlefield where you first met, or the quiet corners of the palace where you shared stolen moments.

You often found yourself returning to places that held memories of Marcus. The battlefield where you first met, where he had caught your eye in the midst of the chaos, remained sacred to you. You would stand there, recalling the way your heart raced when he first spoke to you. The palace too, though long gone, remained vivid in your mind. You could still hear the echo of your laughter as you shared secret moments in the quiet corners, moments stolen from the prying eyes of the court.

But none of these memories could fill the void that had been left behind. You were a shell of who you had once been, and your existence was now defined by the absence of Marcus.

You became a witness, watching people fall in love, create families, grow old, and die. It was a cycle you had been denied, and it filled you with both longing and bitterness. The worst part of your immortality wasn't the endless life itself, it was the endless isolation, the inability to ever truly connect with anyone again.

In the present day, the weight of centuries finally began to take its toll. You had lived through empires, witnessed the birth of new nations, and seen countless lives come and go. Yet, no matter where you went or how much time passed, you remained haunted by Marcus’s memory. He was always there, a specter in your mind, the only constant in your immortal existence.

After wandering aimlessly for decades, you found yourself drawn to history once again, not just as a passive observer, but with a deep desire to preserve the past.

You were in a quiet bookstore, surrounded by shelves of dusty books. Your hands ran over the spines of history texts as you stopped at a volume about Ancient Rome. The familiar symbols, the names, even the dates of battles were etched in your mind like scars. You paused on a chapter dedicated to General Marcus Acacius, your Marcus. He was remembered as a hero, a man of honor, but the truth of his death, the betrayal, has been lost to history. You smiled at the thought that even Caracalla’s venom words, didn’t tinted Marcus’s name on history.

The memories fled back in an instant, the first time you saw Marcus commanding his troops, his fierce yet kind eyes, the way he smiled when no one else was looking. It was a painful nostalgia, one that made your chest tighten. You’ve avoided facing the truth about the Roman Empire for so long, unable to face the weight of those memories. But you realized now that telling Marcus’ story was the only way to keep him alive.

You left the bookstore, a decision already made in your heart. You would become a history teacher, and through your lessons, you would keep Marcus alive in a way that no curse could take from you.

At the first day in the classroom. The desks were arranged neatly, sunlight streaming through the windows, and your students were filing in. You stood at the front of the room; your hands rested on the chalkboard. It was strange, being back on an important role where you were meant to pass on knowledge. But for you, this was more than just education, it was a form of remembrance.

You felt a mixture of nerves. This was a chance to talk about Marcus again, to give him the honor he was stripped of in life. You weren’t sure if you were becoming crazy through this endless circle, and you didn’t know if you still were twisting the knife of endless memories you had of him, but you know that this was the closest you had been to him. As you students settled in, you introduce yourself, with a new of the thousand names you had had during your long life. You dove into your lecture about the Roman Empire. When you mentioned Marcus, your voice faltered just slightly, but you pressed on, determined to honor him in the only way left to you.

As you stood before your students, your mind wandered back to the times when you were with Marcus, the memories flooding in, unbidden but unstoppable. The classroom around you faded, and the vivid images of the Roman Empire took over. You were no longer in the present, but back in the heart of ancient Rome, standing beside him, your love, your general.

It was a warm summer evening in Rome. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky awash in shades of deep orange and purple. You and Marcus were hidden away in a secluded corner of the palace, stealing a moment of peace amid the constant threat of discovery. His armor had been discarded, instead he was wearing his cloak as if it could erase the responsibility off his shoulders. In that moment, he was not a general, he was just Marcus, yours, the man you loved.

His hand brushed against yours, sending a shiver up your spine. You had to be careful, even here. The walls had ears, and the court was always watching. But with him, you found yourself willing to take the risk. The world outside your bubble of stolen moments didn't matter. Not the empire, not your brother, not the looming consequences. Just Marcus.

"You should go," he whispered, his voice low and rough. "It's too dangerous."

But you shook your head, stepping closer, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "I don't care," you whispered back, your heart racing. "Let them find out. Let the whole world know. I love you, Marcus."

He looked down at you, his dark eyes softening as they always did when he gazed at you. He placed a gentle hand on your cheek, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I love you too," he said, his voice filled with the same intensity you had come to depend on, but laced with sorrow. "But your family will not be kind to us.”

You knew he was right. You both did. The affair was treason, a betrayal to the honor of your family, to your brother. But the pull between you was too strong, too undeniable. It had started innocently enough, during the long strategy meetings Marcus held with your brother. You had caught glimpses of him, and over time, those stolen glances had become longer, lingering. Before you knew it, you were sneaking away from the palace, meeting him in secret, hiding your love from the watchful eyes of Rome.

In that moment, though, none of it mattered. He leaned down and kissed you, softly at first, as if testing the boundaries of your defiance, then more passionately, as if the whole world could burn for all he cared. You melted into his embrace, letting yourself get lost in the heat of the moment, your mind clouded by desire and the need to be close to him.

You snapped back to the present, your heart still racing as if you had just been pulled from Marcus’s arms. The students stared at you, waiting. You realized you had paused in the middle of your lecture, lost in the memory. Quickly, you cleared your throat, steadying your voice before continuing.

"General Marcus Acacius was one of the finest commanders Rome ever produced. He led with strength and honor, but..." you hesitated, a lump forming in your throat. "But history doesn’t always remember those who deserve it most. He died in dishonor, stripped of his title and his legacy.”

Your students watched you, unaware of the deep, personal meaning those words held for you. They were listening to a lesson, but you were recounting the loss of your greatest love.

And that’s how week after week, your lectures became more detailed. The students were captivated by your knowledge of the Roman Empire, unaware that you were telling them stories of your own life. When you spoke of the campaigns Marcus led, your tone softened, and the students sense the reverence in your words. They asked questions about him, and you answer with more care than you do for any other figure in Roman history.

Speaking about Marcus became a bittersweet ritual. You felt the same pain as you did centuries ago, but there was a strange comfort in saying his name aloud. With every story you tell, you feel like you were giving him a second life, bringing him back into the world if only for a moment. The students didn’t know it, but they were learning about a man who shaped you in ways that any book could never explain.

After class, you often sat alone in your office, a single lamp casting a dim glow. Old books of the Roman Empire were spread out before you, but your mind drifted away. You thought about the moments you shared with Marcus, the way he used to hold you after long days of battle, the whispered promises of a future that was stolen from you both.

The loneliness that had followed you for centuries still lingered, but teaching about him helped ease it, if only slightly. It was as though every time you speak his name, you were defying the curse, keeping his memory alive despite the gods’ punishment. But there were nights when the pain was too much, and you felt the weight of eternity pressing down on you. You wonder if Marcus could hear you, if somewhere, in some distant place, he knows you were still fighting to keep his honor intact.

It was late, the room lit only by the flicker of a single oil lamp. You were lying beside Marcus, the cool night seeping through the cracks of the window shutters. The war outside had raged on for weeks, but in this quiet moment, there was only the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence.

His arm was draped across your waist, his fingers tracing delicate patterns over the back of your hand. His touch was gentle, a contrast to the hardened general the world saw. Here, with you, he allowed himself to be vulnerable. You shifted slightly, laying your head on his chest, feeling the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you.

"You know we can't keep this up forever," he whispered, his voice thick with weariness and something more. Fear, perhaps. Or resignation.

You didn’t reply right away. You knew the truth of his words there was always the looming threat of discovery, of punishment. But in this moment, you wanted to pretend, just for a little longer, that the world outside didn’t exist. That this wasn’t forbidden. That you weren’t living on borrowed time.

He caressed your hand, the roughness of his calloused fingers a stark reminder of the battles he fought, the sacrifices he made. "I would give it all up, you know," he continued, his voice soft, barely audible. "The empire, the glory, everything. Just to stay here with you."

Your heart twisted painfully at his words. You knew he meant them, and you wanted to believe in a future where such sacrifices could lead to a peaceful life together. But you both knew better. The weight of duty and the ever-watchful eyes of the emperor, your brother, were never far from your thoughts.

"You don't have to give up anything, Marcus," you whispered, bringing your hand to his cheek, guiding his gaze to yours. "I love you as you are. And for as long as we have, that will be enough for me."

But even as you said the words, a sinking feeling settled in your chest. You had always known that the empire was a ruthless machine, and it would not allow your love to exist without a price. Still, you closed your eyes, pressing your lips to his, letting the kiss linger as though you could keep time at bay, as though you could stop the inevitable.

When you pulled away, Marcus smiled faintly, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "If only we could stay like this forever," he murmured.

You leaned back in your chair, the weight of eternity pressing down once again. Could Marcus hear you now? Could he feel your longing across the vast time? You didn’t know. But you hoped, no, you believed that somehow, somewhere, he still held you in his heart, just as you held him in yours.

One day, a student stayed behind after class, intrigued by the depth of your knowledge about Marcus Acacius. “It’s like you knew him,” she said, half-joking. “How do you know so much about his life? There’s not much written about him in the sources we have.”

For a moment, you’re taken aback. You’ve been careful to keep your personal connection to Marcus hidden, but the student’s words strike a chord. You felt the urge to tell her the truth, that you did know him, that you loved him, that you were cursed to live on without him. But instead, you smile softly and say, “I’ve studied him for a very long time. Some stories just stay with you.”

The student nodded, satisfied with your answer, but as she left, you felt a pang of longing. You wished, just once, you could tell someone the truth. But you know the world wasn’t ready for your story. It’s a secret you’ll carry alone.

As the years passed, teaching became your refuge. You taught more than just facts and dates, you taught the human side of history, the emotions and relationships that shaped the past. Through your stories, Marcus lived on in the minds of your students, and that gave you a small sense of peace.

The curse still lingered, and the pain of losing Marcus never would fade completely. But through your lectures, you’ve found a way to keep his memory alive. You couldn’t bring him back, but you could ensure that he was remembered, not as the man who was unjustly killed, but as the honorable general who loved you. In that way, you fought against the curse, turning your suffering into something meaningful.

One afternoon, as your students filled out of the classroom, you noticed one student lingering behind, gathering his things slowly. You've been watching him for a few weeks now, and it hasn’t escaped your attention that he always sat alone, quiet and withdrawn. His name was David, and though he never caused any disruptions, he seemed distant from the rest of the class, lost in thought, barely engaging with the lessons.

You decide it was time to reach out.

After the classroom emptied, you approached David as he slanged his backpack over one shoulder. His eyes remained downcast, and you sensed a heaviness about him, something familiar in the way he seemed to carry the world on his shoulders.

“David,” you said gently, “can I speak to you for a moment?”

He glanced up, surprised, but nodded. You gestured toward the front of the room, and he hesitantly followed you. The two of you sat across from each other, the quietness of the empty classroom made the moment more intimate.

You saw something familiar on him, soft brown eyes

You looked at David and felt a strange sense of recognition. His soft brown eyes held a weight that was all too familiar, reminding you of someone you had long ago lost. The resemblance was subtle, but it struck a chord deep within you, like an echo from a past you had tried to forget.

"Is everything alright?" you asked gently, hoping to break through the wall he had built around himself.

David shrugged, staring down at the desk in front of him. “I’m fine,” he mumbled, but you could tell from his tone that he wasn’t.

You leaned forward, trying to catch his gaze. “It’s okay if you're not. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

He glanced up briefly, then away again, the silence between you heavy with unspoken thoughts. There was something more than just teenage angst weighing on him. Something deeper.

“Do you live with your parents?” you asked, thinking you could reach out to them, perhaps offer a meeting to better understand what was troubling him.

David shook his head slowly. “No, it’s just me and my dad.”

His words were like a key, unlocking a door that had remained sealed for centuries. The moment he mentioned his father, a strange chill ran down your spine. You couldn’t explain it, but something inside you shifted, as if the ground beneath your feet had suddenly become unstable.

Before you could ask another question, David continued. “He…he works a lot, doesn’t talk much about stuff. But he cares. I know he does.”

You nodded, sensing a familiar loneliness in his words, one that mirrored your own. “I’d like to meet him,” you said, though the idea stirred something unsettling within you. “Maybe we could have a talk, see if we can help you feel more connected here.”

David shrugged again but didn’t resist. “I guess. I’ll let him know.”

A few days later, you arranged for a meeting with David’s father. As the time approached, you couldn’t shake the unease that had settled into your bones since the conversation with David. There was something about him, about his eyes, his manners, that reminded you of Marcus in a way that felt impossible. But centuries had taught you that the impossible often had a way of finding you.

The classroom door creaked open, and you looked up from your desk. David walked in first, looking a bit anxious, followed by his father. The moment you saw him, your breath caught in your throat.

It was Marcus.

He stood there, lingering by the door, his eyes locking with yours. Though time had passed, and he appeared as someone entirely new, the essence of him, his presence, his soul, was unmistakable. He looked at you with a furrowed brow, as if trying to place you, the same soft brown eyes that had haunted your dreams staring back at you in the flesh.

He stepped in slowly, a tall man with broad shoulders, dark eyes, and a calm yet commanding presence. He looked almost exactly the same as he did all those centuries ago, his hair was streaked with gray, and there was a tiredness around his eyes, but the face, the face was unmistakable.

It was Marcus.

Your heart pounded violently in your chest, and for a split second, you felt dizzy, as if the ground had shifted beneath your feet. Memories fled back, so overwhelming it was as if you were living them all over again: his voice, his touch, the way he smiled at you in those quiet moments when no one else was around. Your throat tightened, your hands trembled, and you could barely breathe. You waited for centuries, living in the shadow of his absence, knowing he would never return to you. And yet, here he is.

You’re stared at a man who didn’t remember the life you shared. A man who looked like Marcus but had no idea of the love, the pain, the eternity you’ve endured without him.

He didn’t recognize you, of course. How could he? You’ve lived for centuries, unchanged, while he, he’d been given a new life, one free from the curse that bound you. He cleared his throat, clearly waiting for you to speak, and it was only then that you realize you’d been standing there, staring.

“Uh… I’m David’s father,” he says, extending a hand. His voice was deeper now, worn by time, but the tone. It was Marcus. It was him.

You forced yourself to take his hand, and the moment your fingers touched, the air in the room seemed to thin. The connection was immediate, electric, and your mind spun with the impossibility of what’s happening. You shook his hand, trying to steady yourself, trying to keep from falling apart.

“I’m… I’m David’s teacher,” you managed to say, your voice shaky. You gave him your name, though you were almost certain the sound of it, the familiarity of it, would spark something in him. But nothing. He was just a man, living an ordinary life, unaware of the past you shared.

He sat down across from you, unaware that this is the most surreal moment of your long, cursed life.

“David’s mentioned he’s been struggling,” he began, looking down at his son, and there was concern in his voice. “I’ve been worried about him. I thought maybe it had to do with his schoolwork.”

You forced yourself to focus, trying to push down the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. How could Marcus be here, sitting in front of you, unchanged yet completely different? He didn’t recognize you, he couldn’t. He had lived and died, while you had remained frozen in time. This man, David’s father, had no knowledge of the centuries of pain you had carried or the love you had lost.

“Yes, David has been a little distant,” you managed to say, your voice barely steady. You glanced at David, who sat quietly next to his father, unaware of the storm brewing inside you. “He’s a bright student, but I’ve noticed he’s been… struggling to engage.”

Marcus—no, not Marcus, David’s father—nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, we’ve had a rough few months,” he admitted, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “I’ve been working a lot, and it’s been just the two of us since his mother left. I think it’s been harder on him than I realized.”

The way he spoke, the cadence of his words, the soft concern in his voice, it was Marcus. Your heart ached with the familiarity of it, but the reality crashed down on you just as quickly. He didn’t know who you were. He didn’t remember anything about the life you had shared, about the love you had lost. To him, you were just another teacher, another stranger.

“I understand,” you replied, trying to keep your voice level. “Maybe we can work together to help him feel more connected. Sometimes, just having a consistent presence can make all the difference.”

As you spoke, your eyes couldn’t help but drift back to him, trying to reconcile the man sitting in front of you with the one who had held you centuries ago. He was so close and yet so impossibly far away. He had no memory of you, no recollection of the love that had once bound you together. It was both a blessing and a curse—he was free from the torment that had plagued you for centuries, but you were left alone in your knowledge of what you had once shared.

“I’ll do whatever I can,” he said, glancing at David with a softness that made your chest tighten. “I want to make sure he’s okay. It’s been tough on both of us.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you. This was your Marcus, but not your Marcus. He was a father now, concerned about his son, living a life you had never been a part of.

The meeting wrapped up quickly after that. You offered some advice, discussed possible ways to help David, but all the while, your thoughts were consumed by the impossibility of the situation. As they both left the room, Marcus lingered for a moment by the door, his eyes meeting yours once again.

“I appreciate you taking the time,” he said quietly. “I know it’s not easy, but… it means a lot.”

You nodded, unable to trust your voice. “Of course.”

He gave you a small, almost hesitant smile before he turned and left, his footsteps echoing in the hallway. And then you were alone, the weight of your endless existence pressing down on you once more.

As you sat there, staring at the door through which he had just walked, you realized the cruel twist of fate you now faced. Marcus had been given another chance at life—a chance to live without the burden of the past, without the curse that had chained you to eternity. But you, you remained the same, trapped in an endless cycle of love and loss.

As you sat there in the quiet, the memories of Marcus flooded your mind—his voice, his touch, the way he looked at you all those centuries ago. You were lost in the whirlwind of it when you suddenly heard footsteps approaching. Your heart quickened, and before you could even turn, you knew who it was.

David’s father-Marcus- stood in the doorway again, hesitating for a moment. His brow furrowed in thought, as though something was tugging at the edges of his consciousness, something familiar that he couldn’t quite place. He cleared his throat, and when you finally met his eyes, your heart nearly stopped.

“I know this might sound strange,” he begins, his voice softer now, uncertain. “But… have we met before?”

The question hit you like a punch to the gut. For centuries, you had dreamed of hearing those words, of him somehow remembering you, but now that it was happening, you didn’t know how to respond. How could you explain what was beyond comprehension? That you had loved him deeply, that you had lived lifetimes while he had been reborn, oblivious to the pain you still carried?

You forced a smile, trying to hide the turmoil inside you. “I… I don’t think so,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly.

He looked at you closely, his eyes searching your face, as if trying to pull a long-forgotten memory to the surface. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—the curse wasn’t as strong as you thought. Maybe some part of him did remember.

“There’s just something familiar about you,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture you remembered all too well. “It’s strange… like I’ve seen you before. Or… I don’t know.” He gave a sheepish laugh. “Maybe I’m just overthinking it.”

You felt your breath catch. It would be so easy to tell him the truth, to give in to the temptation of finally revealing who you really were. But what good would that do? He was living a new life, and you had no place in it.

“Maybe we’ve crossed paths somewhere before,” you replied, your voice steadying even as your heart ached. “The world can be small like that.”

He nodded, but you could see the doubt lingering in his eyes. “Yeah, maybe.” He looked down at the ground for a moment, then back up at you. “Thanks again for everything. I really appreciate it.”

You nodded, offering him a smile that felt like a lie. “Of course. Take care.”

With that, he gave you one last look—one that made your chest tighten—and turned to leave. As his footsteps echoed down the hallway, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had made the right choice in keeping the truth hidden.

For the first time in centuries, you weren’t sure what your future held. All you knew was that Marcus was out there again, living a life you could never be a part of. And once again, you were left with the memories, the only thing that time and the curse had not been able to take from you.

Alone in your office, the weight of eternity pressed down on you more heavily than ever before.

A few days passed, but the encounter with David’s father lingered in your mind like a ghost. You went through your routine, teaching classes, grading papers, keeping up the mask you had worn for centuries. But beneath the surface, the storm raged on. You could still feel the weight of his gaze, the unspoken recognition that had passed between you. He didn’t know the truth, but something inside him remembered.

Meanwhile, across the city, Marcus found himself wrestling with a strange, unshakable feeling. It had been there ever since he met you at the school, a persistent pull that gnawed at him in quiet moments. He tried to push it aside, rationalize it as nothing more than stress, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

At first, it was just small flashes—your face as you had looked at him, the way your voice had trembled ever so slightly when you spoke. There was something familiar about you, something that stirred a sense of déjà vu he couldn’t explain. And then, the dreams began.

They started out hazy at first, fragments of images that disappeared as soon as he woke. A battlefield, the clash of swords, and always…you. Standing there in the distance, watching him. He couldn’t make sense of it, and every morning he woke with the same unsettled feeling gnawing at him.

It got worse with each passing day. He found himself driving by the school on his way to work, glancing at the building as if he might see you standing there. He caught himself wondering what you were doing, if you remembered him in some strange way too. It didn’t make sense, but the pull was real, undeniable.

One night, after tossing and turning in bed, Marcus sat up, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The dreams had returned again, this time more vivid than ever. In them, you had been lying beside him, your fingers intertwined with his as he whispered something he couldn’t quite remember. The sensation was so real, so intense, that he had woken with his heart racing, the image of your face burned into his mind.

He couldn’t keep ignoring it.

The next day, after dropping David off at school, Marcus found himself walking back to the classroom where he had first met you. He didn’t have a clear plan, only a need to see you again, to understand why this strange connection existed between the two of you.

When he arrived, he stood outside the door, hesitating for a moment. What would he even say? He didn’t know if he was ready for whatever this was, or if you would even feel the same pull. But the need to know, to see you, overpowered the doubts.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked softly on the door and waited.

Inside the classroom, you had been in the middle of organizing papers when the knock startled you. You weren’t expecting anyone, and your heart leapt in your chest at the possibility that it could be him. You took a deep breath before opening the door, bracing yourself for whatever was to come.

When you saw Marcus standing there, his familiar brown eyes looking at you with that same confusion and intensity, you knew this moment had been coming. His presence was overwhelming, and for a brief moment, it was as if centuries fell away and you were back in that palace with him, before the curse, before the loss.

“I’m sorry for dropping by like this,” he said, his voice softer than you remembered, though the same cadence was there. “I just… I’ve been thinking about our meeting the other day. I can’t shake this feeling that there’s something—”

He trailed off, searching for the right words, clearly struggling to articulate the pull he was feeling.

You stood there, your heart pounding, knowing that this conversation was teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something you couldn’t fully control.

“Something familiar?” you finished for him, your voice almost a whisper.

His eyes widened slightly, and he nodded. “Yeah. Exactly that.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking almost embarrassed. “I know it sounds crazy, but since I met you, it’s like I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. I keep having these…dreams, and it doesn’t make any sense, but it feels like I’ve known you before.”

Your heart pounded at his words, the weight of centuries crashing down on you all at once. His admission felt like a thread connecting the past to the present, something fragile and dangerous. You had never expected this—Marcus remembering, even if only in fragmented dreams. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the confusion he was trying so hard to make sense of.

You tried to steady your breath, knowing you couldn’t tell him the truth, not yet. It would unravel everything. But his presence, the way he looked at you as if he had known you for lifetimes, made it impossible to keep your emotions in check.

“I’m sure it’s just… coincidence,” you said softly, your voice betraying the turmoil inside you. “People get those feelings sometimes, don’t they? Like they’ve met someone before.”

He studied you for a moment, his brow furrowing. “Maybe.” But he didn’t sound convinced. He took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “It’s not just that. It’s something more. And I don’t understand why, but I feel like… I should know you. Like I’m supposed to know you.”

Your pulse quickened. It was dangerous, this line you were walking. If he kept pushing, if he kept searching for answers, the curse could be exposed. Yet, the way his eyes searched yours made your resolve falter. It was Marcus standing before you, but not the Marcus you had known. This was a man who had been granted a new life, free from the past that had chained you both.

“I’m just a teacher,” you said, forcing a small smile. “We only met a few days ago.”

He nodded, but the crease between his brows deepened, as if he was debating with himself, wrestling with whether to leave things be or push further. He took another breath, as though on the verge of saying something else, but then stopped himself, shaking his head slightly.

“I don’t usually do this,” he said, almost to himself, his voice low, hesitant. “But… would you like to get coffee sometime? I mean, not as David’s teacher, but just as… us.”

The question hung in the air between you, and you felt the ground shift beneath your feet. You had lived through countless lives, avoided countless connections, and yet here was Marcus, in this new form, asking you to start something again. It was as if fate was daring you to test the boundaries of the curse.

You hesitated, your heart torn between the longing you had carried for centuries and the knowledge that this was a path filled with danger. If he remembered more, if the past began to bleed into the present, what would that mean for him—for both of you?

“I…” You swallowed, unsure of what to say. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

His face fell slightly, disappointment flickering in his eyes. But then he smiled, trying to mask it. “I get it. I just—there’s something about you…”

Your chest tightened at his words. He was offering you an out, a way to walk away from this, to keep the curse at bay. But deep down, the thought of letting him go again, of walking away from the man you had loved for centuries, felt unbearable.

“I’ll think about it,” you whispered, almost afraid of your own answer.

He nodded, offering you a small, understanding smile. “Take your time.” His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, searching for something he couldn’t quite find. “I’ll see you around.”

And then, he turned to leave, the weight of his unspoken questions hanging in the air like a ghost. You watched him go, your heart aching with the knowledge that fate was once again drawing you both into its web.

The door closed behind him, and you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. This was only the beginning, and you knew it. The past had a way of finding you, no matter how much time had passed.

A few days later, the school hosted a parent-teacher meeting. The hallways buzzed with the low hum of voices, the shuffle of papers, and the occasional sound of children darting between classrooms. You had prepared for a busy evening, but the thought of seeing Marcus again lingered in the back of your mind, an undercurrent to everything else.

You were speaking with another parent when, out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of him. He was standing near the entrance, casually scanning the room. For a moment, he looked lost in thought, his brow furrowed in that familiar way that tugged at your heart. And then, as if sensing your gaze, his eyes met yours.

The world seemed to pause.

The warmth of his smile was immediate, softening his features in a way that was both disarming and comforting. It was as though, in that brief moment, everything else in the room faded away. The connection between you, the pull that had been simmering beneath the surface since that first meeting, was undeniable. His eyes lingered on you, full of recognition that he couldn’t quite place, yet something deep inside of him understood.

As the conversation with the other parent wrapped up, you felt Marcus slowly making his way toward you, weaving through the crowded room. Your heart raced, knowing that whatever happened next, you wouldn’t be able to pretend that the past didn’t exist—not for much longer.

“Hi,” he greeted you, his voice warm and easy as he stopped in front of you.

“Hi,” you replied, your voice barely steady as you met his gaze.

He glanced around briefly before looking back at you. “Busy night?”

You nodded, the weight of the moment making it hard to find words. “Yeah. A lot of parents to talk to.”

Marcus gave a small chuckle. “I guess I’m one of them.” But the tone of his voice suggested he had more in mind than just the usual parent-teacher talk. His eyes searched yours again, that same sense of familiarity clouding his expression.

“You’ve been on my mind,” he admitted softly, leaning in just enough so that his words wouldn’t be overheard by anyone else. “I know it’s probably crazy, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the other day. And… about you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your chest tightening at his words. He was so close now, and you could feel the intensity radiating off him, the same intensity that had bound you together in another life.

“I…” You hesitated, knowing the danger in getting too close, in letting yourself fall into the old patterns. But something in the way he looked at you, the softness in his expression, made it impossible to resist. “I’ve been thinking about it too.”

His smile grew, a flicker of relief crossing his face. “I’m glad it’s not just me.”

You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the same battle he was fighting inside himself—the inexplicable connection, the way the past seemed to bleed into the present even though he couldn’t understand why.

“I know we’re at a parent-teacher meeting,” he said, his voice a bit lower now, “but maybe after this, we could grab that coffee? Well, we could make it, a dinner. I’m still trying to make sense of this, of what I’m feeling, and I’d really like to talk to you… if you’re open to it.”

Your heart ached at the question, knowing that whatever happened, this was Marcus reaching out to you again, even if he didn’t remember the lives you had shared. You felt the weight of the curse pressing down on you, but for the first time in centuries, the idea of keeping your distance felt unbearable.

“I’d like that,” you said, surprising yourself with how easily the words came out.

His eyes lit up at your response, and he smiled again, this time a bit more confidently. “Great. I’ll wait for you after the meeting.”

And with that, he gave you a nod before moving off to join the other parents, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding with anticipation, fear, and hope all at once. You knew this meeting would be the beginning of something far more complicated than either of you could imagine.

++

The rest of the parent-teacher meeting passed in a blur. You were aware of the conversations happening around you, but your mind was somewhere else—focused on what was to come. Marcus had invited you for dinner, a simple gesture that felt monumental in the context of your tangled past. Every minute felt heavier with anticipation, knowing that after so many lifetimes of loss, this was your chance to be near him again, even if he didn’t remember.

When the meeting finally ended, you gathered your things and made your way toward the entrance. You spotted Marcus waiting by the doors, hands in his pockets, eyes searching the crowd. As soon as he saw you, that familiar warmth spread across his face, and for a moment, it was like stepping back in time.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice casual but with an undercurrent of something deeper.

You nodded, offering him a soft smile. “Yeah, ready.”

Together, you made your way out to the parking lot. David was waiting by their car, playing with a small toy in his hands. When he saw you walking with his father, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Dad?” David asked, looking between the two of you. “Why’s my teacher coming with us?”

Marcus glanced down at his son, his smile never wavering as he reached over and tousled David’s hair. “She’s joining us for dinner tonight,” he explained lightly. “I wanted to say thank you for helping out with everything.”

David’s eyes widened, and he looked at you with a mix of curiosity and surprise. “Oh… okay,” he said slowly, clearly trying to process this new development. “So, like, you’re friends with my dad?”

You exchanged a quick glance with Marcus, both of you sharing a silent understanding of how complicated the truth really was.

“Something like that,” you answered with a gentle smile. “We’re just going to have dinner and talk about how to help you in school.”

David seemed to accept this explanation for now, though his gaze lingered on you a little longer before he climbed into the car. As you slid into the passenger seat, your thoughts were swirling. You were entering Marcus’s home, a place that was both familiar and foreign to him—a life he had built without any memory of you.

The drive to their house was quiet, but the tension between you and Marcus was palpable. Every now and then, you caught him glancing at you, as if he were trying to piece something together, to understand why he felt this pull toward you.

When you arrived at their home, Marcus led you inside. It was cozy, filled with the warmth of a lived-in space—family photos, toys scattered across the living room floor, the faint smell of something cooking. It was so different from the life you had known with him centuries ago, yet the sense of care and love was the same.

“Make yourself at home,” Marcus said, gesturing to the living room. “I’ll get dinner started. David, why don’t you help me set the table?”

David nodded and followed his father into the kitchen, but not before giving you one more curious glance. You settled onto the couch, feeling out of place and yet strangely at ease. This was Marcus’s life now, a life you had never been a part of, but somehow it still felt like home.

As they busied themselves in the kitchen, you couldn’t help but think about the enormity of what was happening. You were here, in his home, sharing a moment that felt so normal and yet carried the weight of centuries. It was a bittersweet reminder of everything you had lost and everything you still longed for.

After a few minutes, Marcus emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “Dinner’s almost ready,” he said, his voice soft. “Thanks for… well, for coming. I know it’s kind of last minute.”

You shook your head, offering him a small smile. “It’s fine. I’m happy to be here.”

He sat down across from you, leaning forward slightly, his expression thoughtful. “I meant what I said earlier. There’s something about you… something I can’t explain.” His voice was quieter now, as though he was sharing a secret. “It’s like I’ve known you forever, but I don’t know how or why.”

Your heart ached at his words, the familiar pain of your curse tugging at you. He was so close, yet so far from remembering the life you had shared. But in this moment, it was enough just to be here, to feel his presence again.

Dinner passed in a warm haze, filled with laughter and the comforting sounds of family. You enjoyed every bite, trying to savor the moment as Marcus shared stories about David's antics at school, his love for art, and the curious questions he had been asking lately. You felt a genuine connection growing, like the threads of your past weaving together with the present.

Once dinner was finished, David excused himself, yawning as he dragged his feet toward the living room. "I'm too tired to finish my project," he declared, and Marcus smiled, understanding that he was ready for bed.

“Okay, buddy, let’s get you settled,” Marcus said, ruffling his son’s hair as David headed up the stairs. After a few moments, you heard the soft sound of David’s door closing, followed by the gentle hum of a lullaby drifting down the hall.

With David tucked in, Marcus returned to the living room, a comfortable silence settling between you. He sank into the armchair across from you, and you both took a moment to collect your thoughts.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “I didn’t expect to enjoy it so much.”

“I’m glad you did,” you replied, feeling your heart race under his gaze. “I had a great time.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair, a contemplative look crossing his face. “David has been talking about your lessons a lot lately. He’s become really obsessed with the Roman Empire.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. “Really? That’s amazing to hear! What does he say?”

“Well,” Marcus chuckled softly, “he keeps mentioning this General Acacius as his hero. Apparently, he thinks it’s so cool that he’s a general and a fighter at the same time. I think he thinks he’s going to become a gladiator or something,” he said, rolling his eyes playfully.

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of the name. “Marcus Acacius? He’s a fascinating figure in history. He had a complex life—fighting for honor and trying to navigate the politics of his time.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “You really know your stuff, don’t you? It sounds like you’ve done quite a bit of research for your lessons.”

“I’ve always been passionate about history,” you admitted, feeling a warmth spread in your chest as you talked about your favorite subject. “Especially the stories of strong figures like him. I believe there’s so much we can learn from the past.”

“Do you think David sees himself in Acacius?” Marcus asked, leaning forward slightly, genuinely interested in your opinion.

“Perhaps,” you replied thoughtfully. “Or maybe he sees a bit of him in you” you said.

Marcus raised an eyebrow, surprise etched across his face. “In me?”

“Absolutely,” you continued, feeling the words flow more easily now. “You’re a dedicated father, and you fight for what’s best for your son, just like Acacius fought for his people. The way you support David, always encouraging his interests and nurturing his passions—that's heroic in its own right.”

He chuckled softly, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his features. “I’ve never thought of it that way. I just try to do my best for him.”

“Exactly,” you said, leaning in a little closer. “Being a hero isn’t just about great battles or glory; it’s also about the everyday moments—the sacrifices we make for the ones we love. That’s what really matters.”

Marcus’s gaze softened as he listened, and you could see him processing your words. “I guess I can see that. I want David to grow up feeling strong and capable, like he can achieve anything he sets his mind to.”

“And you’re doing just that,” you replied, your heart swelling with admiration for him. “He looks up to you, Marcus. Your presence in his life is already making a huge difference.”

The weight of his vulnerability hung in the air, and for a moment, it felt as if the world outside faded away. “You know, I never realized how much I needed this conversation until now,” he said, a genuine smile gracing his lips. “It’s refreshing to talk to someone who understands what it means to teach and inspire.”

“I’m glad,” you replied, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest.

Marcus nodded; his expression thoughtful. “Speaking of which, I actually bought a book for David the other day. It’s about Marcus Acacius—the general. I thought he might enjoy reading about a real-life hero.”

Your heart raced at the mention of the name, the connection striking a chord deep within you. “Really? I’d love to see it,” you said, your curiosity piqued.

With a spark of excitement, Marcus stood and walked toward a nearby bookshelf, scanning the titles. He pulled out a well-worn book, its cover faded but the spine intact. As he handed it to you, he said, “I thought it would be a great way to inspire him. The stories of bravery and leadership are so important, especially now.”

You opened the book and began flipping through the pages, the illustrations of ancient battles and heroic deeds instantly drawing you in. “This is wonderful, Marcus,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “David will love this.”

“I hope so,” he replied, his gaze fixed on you, watching your reaction with a mix of anticipation and pride.

As you admired the illustrations, Marcus leaned closer to look at the page you were on, his shoulder brushing against yours. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, and for a brief moment, it felt like you were back in another life, lost in a world where everything was simpler.

“This page really captures the spirit of what it means to be a hero,” you began, your voice soft yet earnest. “You know, once upon a time, a hero like Marcus Acacius fought not just for glory but for the love of those he held dear. It reminds me of the bond they shared—how love can be as powerful as any sword or shield.”

Your words hung in the air, the weight of history resonating in the silence between you. You continued, feeling emboldened by the moment. “In many ways, that love is what drove him, just as it drove someone else in a different time—someone who used to call her, mi dulce Cara’”

You glanced over at Marcus, watching as his expression shifted from curiosity to surprise. His eyes widened slightly, and he turned to face you fully. “What? How do you know that?”

The question echoed in the quiet room, and your heart raced at the realization of what you had just revealed. It was a nickname that only he had used, a term of endearment from a time long past, one that had been buried under centuries of memories and pain.

“I—” you hesitated, your mind racing as you tried to find the right words. “I guess I’ve always felt a connection to that name. It… it just came to me.”

Marcus studied you intensely, searching your eyes for answers. “But that have never been mentioned that to anyone. How could you know?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you realized how the truth was slipping through your fingers, how deeply you yearned for him to remember. “Sometimes, memories linger in the air, even when we think they’re lost,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “It’s like a whisper from the past.”

He looked at you, a mixture of confusion and intrigue swirling in his gaze. “A whisper?”

“Something like that,” you replied softly, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you. “Maybe it’s just… a feeling, or a part of a dream I once had. I can’t explain it, Marcus.”

The two of you sat there in silence, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering emotions. You could sense the gravity of the moment, the delicate thread that connected your past with the present, and you couldn’t help but hope that perhaps, just perhaps, this was the beginning of something that could bridge the gap between who you had been and who you were now.

Marcus leaned closer, his gaze intense and searching. “Dulce cara mia,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I spent years looking out for you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as the familiar phrase hung in the air, a sweet reminder of the bond you once shared. It felt as if the walls between your past and present were beginning to crumble, allowing the sunlight of long-buried emotions to seep through.

“Wait… you remember that?” you asked, your voice barely a breath.

His words were a balm to your soul, igniting a flame of hope that you had thought long extinguished. “How could I forget about you, my love?” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I've lived a thousand lives trying to find you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the weight of his confession settled over you like a comforting blanket. “You really mean that?” you asked, unable to hide the tremor in your voice.

“Every word,” he replied, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckles. “Even in this life, it felt as if something was missing. A part of me always knew you were out there, waiting for me.”

You felt a rush of warmth at his admission, the love that had been lost in the ages flooding back to you. “I thought I would never find you again,” you whispered, your heart aching with the bittersweet pain of your shared history. “I thought the curse would keep us apart forever.”

Marcus shook his head, his expression fierce. “No curse can hold us back. It may take a thousand lifetimes, but we always find each other. Always.”

His gaze bore into yours, filled with a fierce intensity that made your heart race. The air around you felt charged with emotion, and you could feel the weight of the moment pressing down like the world had paused just for you two.

“Every word,” he reiterated softly, nodding as he leaned in closer. The distance between you evaporated, and your breath caught in your throat as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering against your skin. “I’ve missed you, cara,” he murmured, using that endearing name that sent shivers down your spine.

As he inched closer, the warmth radiating from him enveloped you like a comforting embrace. “I’ve spent so long searching for you,” he whispered, his lips hovering just inches from yours. “And now that I’ve found you again… I never want to let you go.”

Your heart swelled with emotion, and the tension in the air seemed to pulse with life. It felt as though everything around you faded into the background—the world, the past, the curse—all that mattered was this moment, this connection.

“Marcus,” you breathed, your voice barely audible as you leaned in, craving the touch of his lips against yours.

But then, just before your lips met, he pulled back slightly, searching your eyes with a mixture of longing and caution. “I won’t rush this. I want to savor every moment we have, to make it count.”

You nodded, your heart pounding as you took a deep breath, grounding yourself in the reality of this second chance. “I want that too,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

++++++

You were standing in the dimly lit corridors of the palace; the cold stone walls a stark contrast to the warmth you felt whenever Marcus was nearby. The sounds of soldiers and servants echoed faintly in the distance, but here, in this hidden alcove, the world felt small and intimate. Marcus had pulled you into the shadows, his hand firm but gentle on your arm, his eyes filled with the same intensity they held now.

“We must be careful,” you had whispered, your breath catching as he leaned in close, the smell of leather and sandalwood surrounding you. “If anyone sees us…”

But Marcus had silenced your worries with a soft kiss, his lips pressing against yours in a way that made your heart skip. “I would fight the whole empire if it meant being with you.” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

His words had sent a thrill through you, but you both knew the risks. You were not just any woman; you were the emperor’s sister, and Marcus was the empire’s fiercest general. Your love, while passionate and real, was forbidden—an act of treason in the eyes of those who held power over you.

Yet, none of that mattered when you were in his arms.

“I can’t stay away from you,” Marcus had whispered against your skin, his lips brushing the curve of your neck as he held you close. “Every moment I’m not with you feels like torture.”

You had smiled then, your hands tangling in his dark curls, pulling him closer, as if you could keep him with you forever. “We will find a way,” you had promised, though neither of you knew how. “We’ll be together, one day.”

For now, stolen kisses and secret embraces were all you had, and in those moments, it felt like enough. The weight of your circumstances melted away, leaving only the raw, unshakable truth of your love.

As Marcus kissed you again, more urgently this time, the world outside your alcove seemed to disappear. His hands traced the familiar lines of your body, and you clung to him, desperate to make the moment last, knowing it would be hours—maybe days—before you could find each other again.

“I love you,” he had breathed into your ear, his voice filled with the kind of vulnerability only you ever saw. “In this life and every life to come, Cara Mia.”

++++++

As the memory faded, you were pulled back into the present, Marcus still inches away, his intense gaze fixed on you. The warmth of that ancient kiss lingered between you, and the weight of the moment felt just as powerful now as it had back then.

His hand, still gently resting on your cheek, was real, solid, warm, and the centuries that had separated you seemed to dissolve in the space between your shared breath. The flicker of recognition deepened in his eyes, and you saw it, the understanding, the knowing.

“Cara,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been searching for you in every life. And now, here you are, right in front of me.”

You could hardly breathe, the intensity of his presence overwhelming. “Marcus,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “All this time… it’s been you. I knew it, I felt it.”

He nodded, his thumb brushing away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. “I never forgot. Even when the memories were blurry, even when I didn’t understand… something inside me always knew.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I met many women during my life, but it was always you. I was always looking for you.”

the years of searching, of waiting, finally melting away. You could feel his love, not just from this life, but from the countless lifetimes before. He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath mingling with your own.

“I won’t lose you again,” he whispered, his voice filled with the determination of a man who had lived a thousand lives in search of one thing, one person.

You closed your eyes, a rush of emotion flooding through you, knowing that, this time, neither of you would have to live without the other.

the reality of your curse loomed at the back of your mind, like a shadow waiting to resurface. You opened your eyes slowly, pulling back just enough to look into Marcus’s eyes. The intensity was still there, but now, mixed with something else—worry, doubt.

“But what about the curse?” you asked softly, your voice trembling with the weight of the question. “We’ve found each other again, but… what if it’s not enough? What if we’re torn apart, just like all the other times?”

“I Will break it” he said, sealing a promise.

Marcus’s words hung in the air, a declaration so filled with determination that it made your heart ache with both hope and fear. His hand tightened around yours, grounding you in the moment as he repeated, “I will break it.”

You stared at him, searching his eyes for any hint of uncertainty, but all you saw was a fierce resolve—a promise he intended to keep, no matter the cost. The weight of his vow pressed down on you, the enormity of the task, the centuries of separation, all coming to the forefront of your mind. “How?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “How can you break something that has kept us apart for so long?”

“I don’t know,” Marcus admitted, his voice unwavering. “But I do know that I’m not the same man I was before. None of those lifetimes matter without you by my side, and I will tear down the heavens if I have to, to keep you with me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the intensity of his love for you overwhelming. You could feel the fear still lurking beneath the surface, the fear that no matter how much you wanted this, how hard you fought, the curse would come between you once again. But something in the way Marcus looked at you, the absolute certainty in his gaze, made you want to believe him.

“And if we fail?” you asked, your voice barely more than a breath, the question slipping out despite yourself. “What if we can’t break it?”

Marcus shook his head, gently cupping your face in his hands. “We won’t fail,” he said softly, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Because this time, I’m not letting you go. I’m not letting anything stand between us. I’ll break the curse or die trying.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his words sank in, the promise of his love wrapping around you like a shield. For the first time in centuries, you allowed yourself to hope. Maybe, just maybe, this time could be different.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, breaking the heavy tension that had settled between you. “People will talk again,” you said, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “That hasn’t changed.”

Marcus’s eyes lit up, a playful glint dancing behind the intensity of his gaze. “Let them talk,” he said with a shrug, his voice full of warmth and mischief. “They’ve been talking about us for centuries. Let them have something real to talk about this time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound breaking through the lingering shadows of fear and doubt. It was a familiar feeling, this lightness that always seemed to come when you were with him, no matter how dire the circumstances. In a world that constantly threatened to tear you apart, these moments of shared joy felt like a rebellion, a testament to the strength of your bond.

“They’re going to say I’ve bewitched you,” you teased, leaning in a little closer, savoring the warmth of his presence. “Or that you’ve gone mad.”

Marcus grinned, his thumb still gently caressing your cheek. “Maybe I have,” he said, his voice low and full of affection. “Mad with love for you.”

You rested your forehead against his once more, your breath mingling with his as you whispered, “Let them talk, then. As long as we have this, as long as we have each other, none of it matters.”

Marcus’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. “Forever,” he whispered back, sealing the promise between you with a tender kiss.

You kissed him as though every single one of the lifetimes you had lived without him was pouring into this one moment. The touch of his lips against yours ignited something deep within you—a longing, a love, that had spanned centuries. All the heartache, all the searching, all the endless years of waiting melted away as you gave yourself fully to the kiss.

Marcus held you like he had done a thousand times before, but this time, it was different. This time, the kiss was filled with the knowledge that you had found each other again, that no matter what came next, you were together now. His hands traced the curve of your back, pulling you closer as if he were afraid you might disappear again.

You could feel the weight of all those years, all the love that had been lost and found again, in every movement, in every breath. His kiss was not just a promise but a reminder—a reminder of all the times he had loved you, all the moments you had shared in different lives, and all the moments you had missed. And now, here, you were living them all again.

When you finally pulled back, your breath coming in shallow gasps, you stared into his eyes, searching for the same fire you knew was burning inside you. It was there—strong, unwavering, eternal. “I’ve waited lifetimes for you,” you whispered, your forehead resting against his. “And I’d wait a thousand more if it meant I could be with you like this.”

Marcus’s gaze softened, and his fingers brushed tenderly against your jawline. “You won’t have to wait anymore,” he said, his voice steady and filled with love.

After the kiss, you found yourself in front of a mirror, your fingers lightly brushing over your lips, still tingling from the touch of his. The room was quiet now, the world beyond the two of you seemed distant, as though the very air had stilled to give you space for this moment. As you gazed at your reflection, a glimmer caught your eye.

There, among the strands of your hair, was a single grey hair. You reached up, gently twisting it between your fingers, a realization dawning on you with a surge of emotion. The curse. All those lifetimes, the endless cycle of living and dying, never aging, never truly being free… It was broken.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you had changed. The grey hair was proof—proof that time, real time, had touched you. Proof that you were no longer trapped in the endless loop of waiting, searching, and losing Marcus again and again.

Your heart swelled with emotion as you stared at the grey hair, a smile tugging at your lips. It wasn’t a sign of loss or fear, but of life—of the future you could now build together. The weight of your immortality, the curse that had kept you apart, had lifted.

Marcus’s reflection appeared behind you in the mirror, his eyes soft but filled with a quiet intensity. He gently placed his hands on your shoulders, his warmth grounding you in this new reality. “You see it too, don’t you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, unable to stop the tears from welling up. “It’s broken, Marcus. We’re free.”

His arms slid around you, pulling you close to his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart, the sound of it a reminder that you were no longer bound by the past. “I told you,” he whispered against your hair. “No curse can keep us apart.”

[blueaetherr]

permission to feel

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader [she/her]

warning(s): longer than usual, minor mistakes, angst?

summary: the one where two disasters discover lost feelings

author's note: part 2 to this imagine. this was supposed to come out a while ago but i kept changing and rewriting stuff. final product so enjoy as you can.

now playing: come back to me by teyana taylor ft. junie & rick ross

It was late at night when Jude and Y/N decided to stray away from the party. That was what they planned—with hushed discussions, (Jude's) unmistakable winks, one's glances across the room, some slow and steady movements toward the exit—to settle on the beach where Jobe and her brother could find them if they chose to join them sometime later.

But they continued to walk along the beach without a thought to slow down, without a thought beyond themselves and their unceasing conversation.

And they went on to walk along their spontaneous path unbothered. Party music soon became distant to their senses. There were fewer and fewer people to encounter in their wide vicinities. Slurred voices faded into the evening night with ease. Distance between themselves and their siblings stretched beyond agreement—until it was only them, with the company of the sand under their feet and the sound of the sea rolling into itself repeatedly.

And that was okay, really. Even though neither Jude nor Y/N voiced it, this was what they wanted; to be alone together for a moment. One that they probably already robbed themselves of one too many times in the past.

Leaving Jude behind Y/N wandered towards the shoreline of the small beach, quite careless in her steps. She took in a deep inhale, letting her chest rise as she let her senses navigate the setting. Strings of winds softly fanning her face and passing between her fingers, the sea and the sky carefully falling into each other farther out in the distance, sand under, on and laying on her feet—usually, and once irritating and gritty at initial contact—now comforting and warm against her skin.

Letting her chest fall slowly, Y/N closed her eyes. Then, at the touch of wind, the feeling along her legs, the calm in her heart, mind and soul– she smiled.

Being away on holiday let Y/N appreciate the little things whilst being uncaring about her daily obligations. Here she stood, far away from her responsibilities to her family and community. She didn't have to present herself as a model of all things good that others thought came to her innately. She didn't have to wait on anyone; she could receive without feeling she should send too. She didn't have to act as the third parent to her young siblings as they were in the safe care of their parents.

Here, responsibilities were damned to infinity. It was all temporary, of course, she knew that well enough. It's just that, well, for once she could indulge in nothing—or something, or everything—and just rest. That was all she wanted.

Opening her eyes Y/N turned around only to find Jude's gaze stuck on her, his head tilted to the side. She sniffled out a laugh as she made her towards him. "What are you doing?" she asked.

And Jude let his focus remain on her. His gaze circled between Y/N, the sea and the sky, and everything two times over again. His eyes were full of wonder and curiously at the sight of the three differing bodies together and in comparison. Something about resemblances, physical aspects, mirroring movements or even shared loveliness. He had an idea in mind. There was something to say, something to point out. Whether evident or not held no relevance. But he was unsure; a bit of confirmation would ease his mind.

"This... this may sound weird." That was the worry, indeed. That she would find his creation of thoughts and ideas weird. That she would find him weird. But that wasn't it at all. There was a nod and a smile and that was reassuring enough for Jude to resume asking, "Just out of curiosity... has anyone ever compared you to the sea and the sky?"

After telling Jude the meaning behind Blues she had initially believed that all talk and things connected to it anyhow would ultimately die out. She didn't think Jude would catch onto things, even if he was unaware of the fact. Again, Y/N nodded as the existing smile across her lips continued to bloom. "Only one person," she said as she held up a finger.

Jude's face and shoulders fell slightly. He figured this out when he only knew a bit and some about Y/N. There was only one other person who would know this very thing about Y/N, and he knew everything about her. "Please don't tell me it's him." Searching Y/N's expression carefully he found happiness and delight and subtle laughter, and Jude couldn't say he was surprised. Even the mention of his brother in conversation had her in bright spirits. "Really? It was Jobe?"

Y/N scoffed out a laugh. Even while joking Jude still managed to diminish Jobe. "Why are you surprised by that?" she asked as they moved to sit on the sand.

Jude huffed out a deep yet relieving chuckle. "No offence to him. I just—I didn't know he was—" His facial expression almost broke out into a frown, a subtle measure of something. Romantic was the word that first came to him. He knew it didn't apply to his brother nor did Jobe hold anything romantic towards Y/N. The soulmatism between Y/N and Jobe, though grey and blurry, when defined was strictly platonic. There was love between the two and that love would always remain sufficient for them. No more, no less.

Romantic. 'Cause if Jude had been the one to initially compare his friend to the sea and the sky— a pair of bodies he found both regular and remarkable, two figures that reflected Y/N in every way possible— then the gesture would have been romantic. All the way from the intentions down to the execution. Jude pulled in a breath, clearing his throat. "Poetic," was the word he settled with as he shrugged. "I didn't know he was poetic like that."

"Like I always say, he's a sensitive boy," Y/N said, locking her fingers around her knee. "That's probably why I always leaned towards him instead of you growing up." A beat. "That is if you take away other things of course."

"Yeah?"

Y/N hummed, nodding. "Definitely. It lets him be emotionally mature and respond to situations in a logical and understanding manner, and I don't think I could ask for more from someone. Like..." Another beat came between the pair until she let out a sigh, pinching the root of her nose. She already knew what Jude's reaction to her following words would be. "Remember when Jobe had a crush on me?"

Immediately, laughter burst from Jude, filling the open air with his amusement and joy as he leaned back in his place. Y/N tried to discourage him by lightly shoving him though it only encouraged more waves of laughter from Jude. And in the end she had to give up; the sound of happiness, even when originating from mockery, was contagious.

Eventually, Jude let himself calm down. He took a few deep inhales before saying, small laughs still slipping passed his lips, "Oh yes. How could I ever forget?" Being such vivid detail of their childhood and something Jobe could never deny because everyone remembered it, his crush on Y/N was one of the easiest things Jude could tease his brother about.

"The point is— the point is, Jude, yeah," she stressed, dragging her words to overpower his laughter and inability to listen, "you know how I found out about it?" Soon, silence fell over Jude for a second. He tilted his head in thought though nothing relevant came to mind so he shook his head. So Y/N admitted it, straightforward. "He just told me."

His eyes grew narrow. "He told you," he said plainly, his voice dripping with doubt. "Just like that?"

All the possible answers he expected, and Y/N managed to say none of them and less. This whole time he thought Y/N knew about the crush because of him and her brother. Quite unreasonably, the older boys—who had discovered everything from a discussion between their moms—had teased Jobe about the crush when they were younger, and Jude assumed Y/N heard about it in passing.

Turns out that Jude couldn't have been farther from the truth. He had assumed everyone was involved in the network of information except for the person who was responsible for its creation.

"He just told me," Y/N, too, plainly said, her voice somehow expressing empathy for the confusing nature of the situation. She let her chest rise as she turned towards Jude, speaking to him directly. "He mentioned that even though that's how he felt, he knew that it wasn't about to be a forever thing. That's why he was so cool about it– so there was nothing for me to do than also be cool about it."

When Jobe discovered his crush on Y/N, he soon realised that it wouldn't last the way others assumed it would. That crush was a dream, an irrational mix of reality and fantasy and imagination—an accumulation of his favoured elements about his best friend. That's all it was and that's all it ever would be.

Truthfully, Jobe loved Y/N. He did, really, but that was it. He loved her but he knew he could love someone else more and in a different way, first witnessing such when Y/N had been with her first boyfriend. He loved her and she equally loved him too, and that was more than enough. They didn't need more of each other than what they had already established together.

Until they both found their other halves– something they wouldn't find in one another– they were each other's first-person for now, and Jobe was perfectly okay with that.

And as Jobe grew out of crushing on Y/N, he only gained more perspective. All thoughts about Y/N—these desires—never went beyond wanting a friendship with her. There was love but they weren't and never would be intimately bonded to one another. She wasn't his whole world. There was much more beyond his initial ideals about Y/N. He could live with her simply being his best friend for their lifetimes together.

"I'm just saying... you're always asking what makes me and Jobe's tight like that: we give each other permission to feel, both the positive and negative emotions. We give each other grace to be in tune with ourselves first, understanding our baseline feelings and thoughts. And when we can do those things alone and separately, it makes doing them together much easier, you know?"

Sighing, a semblance of a smile appeared upon her face as she turned away from Jude and towards the sea, appreciating its strong yet delicate movements all over and under itself. "Everything is just free to flow... kinda like the waves."

Jude couldn't find himself disagreeing with any of Y/N's words, and a lot of Y/N and Jobe's general interactions during this holiday proved them to be true.

They understood each other beyond spoken words. Their smiles and laughter were always real, wide and overtly alive. Their arguments, though sometimes heated, still held understanding and eventual compromise; there was never a day where they ended things on bad terms. They let their happiness be happiness and they let their sadness exist as sadness. They let their anger present itself as anger. Never to exploit or irritate others, but to let it diminish and falter into safer feelings.

And there was something to learn with that, something to take in and adopt for his own good. But Jude, of course, knew he couldn't just let Y/N gain a win over him like that. Disrupt the moment with a joke. He leaned his head back. "Or maybe it's because you guys are younger siblings."

Confusion briefly laced Y/N's facial expression, weakened with slight laughter. "What?"

"Just think about it," Jude started, "Jobe is my younger brother and you've been the youngest sibling for most of your life as of now and we all know how younger siblings are."

She shook her head and waved him off. She didn't appreciate the emphasis on younger siblings. "I fail to see the connection. If there even is one." Technically, Jude was right (unfortunately) but he was also wrong. In theory, sure, she could understand where his words fit. But in practice, they didn't hold much weight. 'Cause between the four eldest siblings between the two families—in terms of maturity, reliability and trustworthiness to watch over others—Y/N could confidently say that she felt like the eldest with the way she could manage them during their holidays.

"Okay," he said, though the sarcasm was evident in his voice.

"I'm not going to affirm or deny your argument. Besides, it already falls flat by the fact that I'm older." Only by a sole month but that wasn't the point.

There was more to say. Jude could have said more for his defence—there was more to say if he really wanted to. But for now, he let Y/N win. Instead, he let Y/N be happy, he let himself be happy as they shared all kinds of banter and laughter in the night sky.

This was what he wanted, what she initially wanted—what she initially had gone out seeking for and specifically with Jude. And this, supposedly by the power of the universe and stars, was what they were supposed to have and be all along—friends, two people indefinitely intertwined together.

It was quite lovely. It all felt lovely for Jude. To spend time alone with Y/N without her being on edge. To be the one responsible for her joys and her laughter. To share conversations that were outside of his usual scope. To have moments with Y/N that didn't involve their brothers. They were good together as friends. That wasn't to say they were any better than Jobe and Y/N or Jude and her brother. But they were indeed better and more defined than what they used to be and it was all for the better. Two individuals who could interact with one another beyond their familial ties.

And even though what they had wasn't what he wanted, for now, it was enough for Jude. Having Y/N in his good graces was more than enough.

Though he knew their current state wasn't enough for someone else. Jude let his head hang, already knowing the conversation would go south. "What you have with Jobe... is that what you want with me?"

Y/N paused in her movements, thoughts quickly getting in order. "What we have—or some of it at least—it's not unique to your brother," she explained. Though slightly exasperated, her voice remained soft and sweet with understanding. "I have that with everyone. So naturally yes."

"And do you feel like you have that with me?" He wondered.

Her eyes narrowed at his words. "I think you already know that answer, Jude," she said, pointedly. Her softness and sweetness still left room for frustration and annoyance to express themselves. "And before you ask me, I don't know why. I don't know."

Unfortunately, being on good terms didn't cancel out everything that once had them on bad terms. There was still something missing in their friendship that she didn't lack with others. She could have interesting and intrinsic conversations with the parents. She had a bond that was playful and maternal with her younger siblings. She and her brother always found it difficult to stray away from a discussion when it started. She had what she had with Jobe. Some relationships applied to her and the next person over, both in the same or opposite way.

Then there was Jude. Sure, they were close—they were closer than what they used to be—but the distance between them was evident and there, or at least in her eyes. Y/N wanted to be friends, she wanted the two to work out for the better. Y/N didn't want to be angry, sad or annoyed with Jude, she took no joy in any of it. But it was hard to be satisfied when she felt like she was the main one pouring into their friendship while Jude only offered enough to keep them alive while they could be. So much so that she sometimes questioned his intentions with wanting to be her friend.

Still, Y/N tried to remain positive as she turned the conversation positive. "But I understand that these things take time to happen. We share history, and that's not going to go away overnight and probably never will. But I don't think that should stop us from being friends. I want to be your friend. I know that well 'cause you always want to remind me that that's all I've wanted since we were kids."

Letting a low hum, a faint smirk pinched at his cheeks. "I gotta make sure you don't forget," he said.

"It's hard to forget," she said, smiling faintly as she glanced down at her hands. Then without much thought to the question—and the answer—she wondered, "Do you want to be friends with me, Jude?"

A mindless question only required a mindless answer. Yet Jude could only respond with, "Well, um— I mean." He could only stumble over his words; his nerves were acting up. He wanted to answer the question truthfully as Y/N wanted, but it was difficult when things weren't straightforward. Unfortunately, he couldn't just say yes in this case.

But of course, Y/N was unaware of this. In her eyes, his response was a rejection of her friendship. "Oh. Okay, wow." She chuckled, snatching her hand away from Jude. Her smiling exterior contrasted with the stinging burn she felt inward.

Jude tried to reach for Y/N only for her to fold her arms. His face fell, wincing in deep guilt. "Y/N." It wasn't his intention to upset her, but he recognised that he did so nonetheless.

"I-I just didn't think that would be such a difficult question to answer." She stared aimlessly towards the sea, biting down on her lip. She refused to meet his gaze; tears would be shed if she did. "That's all."

She wanted to cave in and hug herself to the point where she just fell into the earth, perhaps even disappear into infinite oblivion and never be found again. She felt embarrassed, beyond humiliated. For the past few weeks, Y/N had given Jude the benefit of the doubt. She had given them another chance, permission to pursue this friendship again. Not for the sake of just being friends but because he said that's what he wanted, and truthfully that's what Y/N wanted too—a mutual agreement.

Or at least that's what Y/N thought. For a want Jude had wanted since forever, the switch-up definitely took her off guard. And now her mind couldn't seem to cast out the doubts tumbling in. Questions about whether Jude actually wanted to be her friend all this time, whether he was just leading her on just to beat her down later on. Questions regarding his sincerity and concern for her. Questions over whether he was only putting up a front as her friend, perhaps he was only making her smile and laugh out of pity and obligation for his past actions.

All this time Y/N had this genuine want to be friends with Jude, something she had been building up to accommodate. So to see that suddenly not be reciprocated, after these last few months, she could only feel pure betrayal. All he had to say was one word. It would have validated her thoughts, calmed her doubts and put her mind at ease. A simple yes, but even that he failed to do—he outright refused.

But hey, it was not like that was anything new.

Maybe Y/N was reaching for something that just wasn't meant to be, even with the input of the universe. It wasn't hard to recall that Jude and Y/N didn't begin as friends, and for the longest time despite the many chances, they were never moved to become friends. Jude's unfavourable behaviour and attitude towards her used to be habitual—so normalised to the point where Y/N would remain unphased from time to time.

She had gotten so excited, so caught up about this idea of friendship—forming something good and special with Jude—that she failed to realise he could easily fall back into his previous ways just as quickly as he fell out of them. It slipped her mind that he didn't have to stay faithful to their mutual agreement.

So it was a real possibility– Jude didn't want to be friends with Y/N as much as she thought he did. And perhaps Y/N needed to accept it and let him go. Maybe that's why the two were together alone; perhaps Jude wanted to let her down softly in hopes that the blow would hurt less with the absence of others.

But even that didn't sound like enough to Y/N. He should have just rejected her at the party in front of everyone and the internet, to make her understand that she had to stop holding out hope for someone that didn't want her in the first place. That she was delusional for ever thinking that Jude wanted something meaningful with her in the first place.

This disaster, it was all on her.

"You don't understand. It's not like that," Jude pled. He knew reaching her was only going to get harder from here. It was never like that. It was never like that. Not even for a moment.

"Then tell me, Jude." She wore a facial expression that was tired and withdrawn. Tired of the humiliation and rejection she always had to face at the hands of Jude. Was she really that easy of a target? She exhaled as she closed her eyes. "Help me understand. I want to feel for you, but I can't if I don't understand. What about the thought of being friends with me is so hard for you to hear about? So much that you can't even answer my question."

It would be fitting to say that Y/N was fed up. She had spent many years being disappointed and annoyed by Jude, and by some point she had gotten used to it. But they made up and discovered new ground for them to settle on. She gave him another chance to do right by her. But of course, he couldn't resist doing her wrong all over again.

Did Jude do all of that just to bring her down, to make her deeply feel all that disappointment and annoyance again all at once? Was this just another cruel way for him to have another victory over her? Was she so terrible that she couldn't be desired as a friend by the very guy who was desired by everyone else?

"I know. It's just—" Jude released a slow breath. Because he knew that after this he wasn't about to get another chance to explain himself a third time. Y/N was tired and sad and feeling all kinds of ways towards him. He could no longer give half-truths like last time; only the simple truth would suffice. "Just know that I haven't lied, just left out a few things before," he assured, though he wasn't sure it was assuring.

Opening her eyes, Y/N let out a sigh. "What is it?"

Jude mumbled under his breath as he pinched his eyebrow. No half-truths, just the simple truth. "You know Jobe's crush on you?" Ironic. The very thing he had been laughing at only moments ago was the same thing bringing him rightful torment and embarrassment.

She quickly turned to Jude, her nose scrunched up. "What about it?" At first, she felt like the conversation was heading in the wrong direction. But Jude didn't correct himself or anything so she didn't say anything further.

"You know that he doesn't talk about you a lot to me, right?" Her face still remained confused but she nodded nonetheless. "Okay well when his crush on you was at his peak, he would talk a lot about you, like what he liked about you and all. He didn't say all that to me but to my mum, his friends, you know? But I would still be around sometimes hearing everything he was saying. And... I think me back then found his words so convincing that his crush on you kinda rubbed off on me."

Y/N initially heard the humour behind his words before her eyes widened; the realisation came in all at once that surrounding distractions became null. Along with Jobe at some point, Jude had had a crush on her.

"I never really acknowledged it so I didn't really try to concern myself with you." Jude tilted his head as he rubbed his jaw. He was struggling with his words; to be outwardly vulnerable took a lot of courage. "My... my crush for you was because of Jobe's crush on you so it would fade."

"I thought it would fade. Jobe's crush on you eventually faded but... I don't think mine ever did. I still didn't acknowledge it because we weren't on good terms for a long time nor we were even friends. I didn't think what I was feeling about you was, like, real. And then we made up, and I still felt the same as before." Sniffling, Jude turned to look at Y/N and captured her gaze. It was quite easy in fact. From his eyes to his all-around facial expression; it was nothing short of devastation and truth—it was all rather captivating. "I still do."

Y/N had to lean back in her place and ponder for a moment or more. What Jude was saying—there was a lot to take in and accept. There was far more than enough going on, in her mind, in her heart. Feeling more emotions than she was used to carrying. All in one night she and Jude went from being simply friends to almost reverting to their previous relations to then finally discovering that, actually, Jude had liked her all this time. And that slightly scared her because unlike before, she wholeheartedly believed every word he spoke.

"The reason I didn't say anything to being friends with you isn't 'cause I don't want to be friends. I'm not cruel like that you know," he chuckled, bitterly. He disliked how despite everything he felt for her, he managed to make her feel like he felt the opposite. One couldn't be further from the truth. "Obviously, I want to be friends, Y/N. It's just hard answering the question knowing that I want more than that. That's all."

She blinked a few times before responding, "Why didn't you tell me before?" Believing Jude didn't cancel out the remaining gaps in the story. If Jude had felt for her all this time– just over five years– why was he only telling her now?

"Because," Jude strung out a breath, slightly deflating a bit. He began to toy with his fingers. "After everything that's happened between us, I didn't think it was fair for me to feel that way towards you."

He had tried to play it off with denial for a while but the truth always persevered above others—Jude had feelings for Y/N. There was uncertainty as to what was what but he could definitively say that he liked her, and he was in way too deep to return them. But he also knew well that everything he felt for Y/N was disproportionate to what he should feel for her, what he deserved to feel for her.

He always assumed that's why Jobe never made the effort to make them friends, why Jobe made it his mission to remind Jude who Y/N ended up being friends with despite her initial intentions. Truthfully, he was undeserving of her feelings, of her time, of her energy. He was undeserving of her altogether.

Yet weirdly, Y/N never acted like that was the case. And if she believed it then she never displayed that through her words or actions. Since they made up, she showed him nothing but grace and understanding. Treated him like she treated her siblings and Jobe, and that only made Jude feel immense guilt. While he was struggling to give her his slightest parts, she managed to always give him her all.

It made him wonder sometimes why she was so willing to be his friend. Yes, she forgave him and yes, they reconciled and started over again. Still, doubts wandered about in Jude's mind more than they drifted into nothing. He was delusional—to think that they could exist as something beyond friends, to think his friendship with her could even slightly match what she shared with Jobe. While Jobe had been poetic and compared Y/N to the sky and the oceans, Jude had only brought Y/N plain misery in the past.

Yeah, he didn't stand a chance.

Besides, it was very likely everything he felt for her was narrow and simply one-sided. After everything that has happened between the two, after all the distress Jude had once brought into her life, why would she feel anything for him?

Jude cleared his throat. "But yeah, that's what I wanted to tell you." He said everything that needed to be said. He spoke the truth and withheld no further truths. Still, he didn't know if he felt any better or relieved after doing so. Whether it was worth it or not would be up to Y/N's verdict. "I'm sorry if I just piled everything on you like that."

She shook her hand as she waved him off. "I asked so... you shouldn't feel like that," Y/N said, the sound of her words slowly faltering. There wasn't much to say.

Evidently, there was a reluctance for the two to continue the conversation, to define what they now were and what they would be after tonight. A lot was said and a lot needed to be taken in. The want to abandon the discussion was there and to even sit in silence was favourable at this point. But they were mature, young adults; they would see it through until the end. At least they had the comfort of the sky and the ocean; even with the uncertainty of Jude and Y/N to stretch beyond the following day, the two bodies would exist in the morning and forever after that.

Suddenly, Jude huffed out a small laugh. "Jobe does say that kindness is your best and worst quality," he pointed out as a sad smile pulled at his lips.

Her brows drifted up, her head tilting slightly. "Really?"

"Yeah. I mean look at us now." Jude gestured between the two, and he was right. They were friends—or had only been able to be friends—because she had been kind enough to extend some grace to him a few months ago. It was all her while he created problem after problem for the pair.

"Take away the last five minutes. We are where we are because I allowed it. I forgave you—"

"And you were understandably ready to take that back."

"Yes, I know. I know," she spoke with a calm tone. She needed Jude to understand that she didn't want to be argumentative, she didn't want to fall into another argument. They needed to finish the conversation for both of their sakes. "But now I understand things better now. About you, about me."

He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. "Yeah? Like what?" His voice carried a sense of resignation as if he had already accepted his fate. It's okay. Just say it. I don't want to be friends anymore, Jude.

"Jude." Suddenly, there was a change in how she spoke. Her voice, her tone—it was small yet measured and smooth and effortlessly persuasive. So much so that Y/N was able to pull Jude away from his conflicting thoughts. She caught his gaze with hers and rewarded him with a gentle smile. "I might like you as much as you like me."

He claimed that he had a crush on her though Y/N didn't think that was the correct label. Who did once have a crush on her was Jobe. Things were easy and casual and normal after he told her. They were still able to be friends effortlessly almost like he had never told her in the first. Y/N was for the most part, unaffected.

But it was different with Jude. There was something there for sure. She could feel the words he spoke. She wanted him to resume talking whenever he stopped. Even when he committed wrong, she found herself gravitating towards him. Jude and Jobe shared the same eyes yet she only found Jude's to be enchanting. Her gaze for him reflected considerable admiration and longing. For a person she couldn't stand for the longest time, she couldn't bring herself to look away.

And everything she had internalised about him, Jude almost felt the exact same. There was nothing easy or casual or normal about the two.

Jude paused in his movements as his mouth fell open. "Oh?" His voice grew a few octaves.

Despite feeling her cheeks grow warm, she continued to hold his gaze which wasn't hard considering Jude refused to look away too, and nodded slowly. "Yeah..."

Everything, from the beginning of the discussion to now, it was all overwhelming 'cause for once, they could finally say I understand.

They used to be two individuals who were thought to be incompatible and barred from ever experiencing one another. Their problems were endless yet weirdly similar every time. The first time they couldn't bear to be friends only to discover that was the fault of misguided feelings. The second time they questioned their friendship only to discover that was at the fault of their own buried and undisclosed feelings—feelings Jude once thought to be one-sided, feelings Y/N didn't notice up until recent moments.

Jude and Y/N thought that they would stop there, at friends. But now feelings, intentional yet confusing, were involved and from both sides.

And that kinda left the two in an awkward position. They didn't exactly know where to go from where they were, the grey area between friends and lovers(?). Was it best to pull away and take things slowly, or close the gap and rush to experience all the things they had missed out on by their own faults? An awkward position indeed.

But it was a good, awkward position. It would let the pair start fresh, reimagine their dynamics and bring to reality what they should have been from the beginning. They were walking on fairly new territory but that was something they would soon learn to navigate with ease. 'Cause now there was a sense of relief to everything that was about Jude and Y/N. For the longest time, they were plagued by secrets upon secrets that crafted nothing but distrust, hostility, anger, annoyance and probably more.

Now, they could rid themselves of everything harmful and damaging. That anger, that hostility, that annoyance– could perhaps be laid to rest to make way for all things infant and shy yet genuine between them. That desire, that tenderness, that love and all coming from both directions. It was thrilling and fascinating to observe and something new.

Her gaze shifted down towards her hands, clasping them together. "That doesn't take away from the fact that you've fucked me over. So much that you managed to fuck yourself over." While harsh she knew that she had to point out Jude's previous wrongs, especially knowing how he was one to get in over his head over the smallest things. She had to let him know that whatever they ended up being after tonight, it was because she chose to let them happen. She had control over how they would end or continue as a pair.

Jude nodded in agreement. "I know." A drop in his tone, yet one could hear the hint of happiness in his voice. He didn't want to misplace his emotions in the conversation, he really didn't. Though it was hard not to now after discovering his once unreciprocated feelings were actually reciprocated from the very person he had unknowingly been crushing on since forever. Maybe he wasn't so delusional for holding on to hope.

"But," she breathed in a good lungful as a smile budded upon her lips. Witnessing Jude's unserious demeanour was making it hard to maintain her own. "I also think you're wonderful."

"Wonderful?"

"I remember my mum describing you as wonderful once," she explained briefly. "Jude, he's wonderful, she said or whatever. But because we never got along before I always thought being wonderful was something negative rather than it being positive. And even after that, I still found you wonderful. Maybe not towards me but still wonderful. Wonderful but in the way my mum intended for me to understand which makes sense; my mum is never wrong."

"Your mum is never wrong," Jude repeated with a laugh.

"Can I be real with you for a second?" When he nodded it was then when Y/N decided to drop her guard, and she didn't plan to pull it back up in front of Jude again. She took hold of his hand and let their fingers intertwine. "I want wonderful, Jude. I want us to have wonderful. I know you have done some questionable things—I have too—but that doesn't stop us from deserving it. We deserve this for us."

She was right. Jude and Y/N have spent so much energy and time on one another only to share many poor experiences. They have spent so much time hating just to hate, despising each other for reasons beyond knowledge. They have spent so much time, so many years exchanging harsh and miserable feelings. Over misunderstandings, over uninformed decisions as kids. So much negative when it should have been all positive and happy and gleeful. It cost them the love and affection they were supposed to experience in the first place.

And that's why they deserved to like each other without shame or guilt, to be young and in love without the judgement of others. Jude deserved to like Y/N without a reminder of his past actions; she forgave him after all. Y/N deserved to like Jude—to experience wonderful—despite his past actions. They deserved to experience love for what it was, and specifically with each other.

This was the final plea. She was tired of getting only half of Jude all the time, tired of seeing strangers receive more of Jude than she ever did. For once in her life, she wanted to be selfish and have him whole.

Jude glanced at their interlocked hands, feeling his lips curve upward as he let their hands sway a bit. Testing out the waters. And he couldn't lie, he enjoyed the moment more than he could have ever imagined. "I do too. Probably why we never worked as friends." He returned his gaze to Y/N and beamed even more when he realised they were carrying the same expression; glances of guiltless delight. "Wonderful sounds great."

The universe and the stars were wrong to initially assign Y/N and Jude as friends. A straight misdirection of fate. Because even if that intention had been a reality for a little longer, no matter how hard the pair tried, the feelings would've surfaced eventually. And now they were here, fully disclosed and expressed from both sides. All because Y/N and Jude extended grace and gave themselves—and each other—permission to feel for one another truthfully.

So when they were over the silence gazing, they fell into a kiss that was softly endearing and delicate. For the lost time they would never be able to retrieve. For the feelings that were forever lost in time. For the time they weren't able to acknowledge their feelings for what they were. For the fact that they weren't able to fall in love traditionally. For all the love and fondness that was shadowed by misunderstandings over the years.

This moment– this was exclusively theirs to treasure.

Pulling apart they still craved one another, reasonably; their lips just barely touching to breathe each other in, one nose leaning on another for that extra contact, eyes closed so their remaining senses could focus on the person they had been deprived of for what felt like a lifetime.

What brought Jude to pull away further was the distant sound of the sea and the sight of the moon from the corner of his eye. He let out a lighthearted chuckle. If that was the case then his attention never really shifted away from Y/N. "Don't tell my brother."

"Only if you don't tell mine."

[suhkusa]

It’s dark outside when you wake up from your nap. You feel uncomfortable and weird in your day time clothes, so you slide out of your bed and quickly change. The time spent on your bed is short when you finally check your phone. 

Your eyes widen when you read Osamu’s texts. You quickly type out a response on the lines of “sure,” before you’re sliding on your slippers and heading outside. As you close your door, you can hear the neighbor’s door swing open. 

You can see his figure in the darkness, and you know he can see you as well. The two of you meet on the sidewalk that connects the walkways of your guys’ house.

“Hey, Y/N,” he sounds a bit tense, but it’s the same old Osamu if you had to guess.

“Hey,” you follow him in taking a seat on the curb. A good amount of distance between the two of you, but just enough where you could still make out his facial features in the dead of the night.

“How have you been?” Osamu starts the conversation. He’s staring off into the distance.

“I’ve been good, just finished up finals. You?” 

“Same here, I suppose. And your friends?” 

Your head tilts in thought, “They’re good as well,”

There’s a moment of silence before a question that has been poking at your mind finally works its way out. 

“How come you’re back home? Isn’t there practice for the new season?” 

You can see his eyebrows raise from your peripheral vision. Did you say something wrong?

“Oh, well,” his legs bend so he can hold his knees a bit closer, “I quit the team a while ago,” 

Your eyes finally widen, “Oh shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Nono, it’s all good. A lot of people are shocked when I tell them, too,”

“How did Atsumu react?”

The man beside you laughs a bit to himself, “As bad as you’d expect. It was around the time that… you know, happened so he had a lot of emotions pent up already,”

“I see,” is all you’re able to manage. 

You know. None of you ever seem to know what to call that situation. A few moments pass by as the two of you bask in quietness. 

“Do you hate me?” his question catches you extremely off guard. 

“What? No- I could never, ‘Samu,” your eyes are full of worry when you finally look his way. “I’m sorry if I ever made it seem like that. I care so much for you, even ‘Tsumu. I know I used to scold and fight with you a lot, but it’s because I really cared. You were my bestest friend at one point and it hurt to see you sabotaging your heart like that,”

“I-” Osamu runs a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry, too. For everything. I was childish and I didn’t know how to deal with my feelings for you. Atsumu came up with the idea. The truce, I mean. I just went with it, because on the off chance that you chose him, it meant he wouldn’t be able to have you,” but it happened anyways, you know he wants to say.

“I guess since it’s already out in the open, I can just say it. But I’ve liked you. I still like you. I’m sorry it’s stupid-”

You swiftly cut him off before he can continue, “It’s not stupid, like, at all. I liked you in our third year. I.. I was going to tell you but then you suddenly became distant, so the timing felt bad,”

Osamu sighs before tucking his face into his hands. “Fuck,” you hear him mutter under his breath.

“Is it really too late?” 

If you were caught off guard earlier, you didn’t know what to call this gut-wrenching feeling now. You already know the answer, but you’re scared. You feel like you’ve already screwed up so much, that any little thing you do next will just end in pieces.

“It’s not,”

You see him peek up at you from where he was looking down, urging you to continue. 

“I just… Just give me time, alright?”

All he does is nod in response.

And for once in your life, it feels the universe is finally reassuring you that it’ll be okay. 

BOTH AIN’T SH!T ( OSAMU VER.) — TIME

PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

NOTES.

osamu was falling asleep when y/n texted back but he jumped up when he heard the notif

his phone’s volume button is broken from throwing it after he texted

atsumu cried when he was fighting with osamu because too much was happening at the time (part of him felt guilty too)

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[shewhowas39]

september fic recs!

i know i am later than usual on my monthly fic recs. a lot has been going on irl, but i have been reading where i can, and i certainly have some fics to recommend to you all!

so let's get started.

of street names and subway wall prophecies by @dalgursbate i'm *obsessed* with this fic. it's Shadowheart x Astarion set in NYC in the early 2000s, with a heavy dose of Buffy the Vampire Slayer lore mixed with Forgotten Realms lore. it sounds wild, i know, but guys, hear me out, this is one fo the BEST fics i've read in a long time. it's sexy, funny, angsty - and the way the two very different universes are woven together is really cool and fun. READ THIS.

Shadowheart Begins by @eldritchelfwriter sticking with the Shadowheart theme for a moment, i gotta recommend this one that i've been reading. Shadowheart x female storm sorcerer Tav! it follows the story of the game and gives a really close insight into Shadowheart's character and motivations. plus a sweet love story. i love my goth princess.

Lockpicking by @fangswbenefits now, on to Astarion x Reader smut! this is a simple but oh so effective little oneshot involving you, Astarion, and some lockpicks. it's a fast read that made me blush. highly recommend.

What Am I Supposed to Do (But Sink My Teeth Into You)? by @khywren khywren continues to be one of my absolute favorite Astarion smut authors. all of their fics are sexy af, but they also all have such a level of sweetness and emotion that get me in the feels. this one involves their OC, Ysera, who accidentally casts an aphrodesiac spell on ehrself int he middle of battle. so a bit of sex pollen mixed in there, too! and, somehow, still touching! i love it.

Dangerous by @naevethewizard this little 2 chapter fic is just a delight. Astarion x f!durge, and one of the most funt akes i've read on a durge in a while. a durge who has no idea sex can actually be a pleasurable thing. Naeve's personality is so funa nd astarions' reactiosn to her here are perfect. i'm excited for when i fainlly have time to read the long fic it's attached to!

***

and that's it for the month! happy reading!

[karlachismylife]

Don't You Forget About Me

Since @killerpancakeburger already had the most perfect Soap idea with this prompt, I decided to sit and think: what would be the situation where Soap actually didn't wanna kiss? Mission imposible?

Well, I might've found the solution.

CW: reader is Soap's mother (literally), so (potentially bad) Scottish yelling and scolding, very silly and unserious, not even pretending to be realistic.

(Title fom a song by Simple Minds)

You were going to give him a piece of your mind alright. He had always been a troublemaker, the sole source of white and grey peppered in your respectable hairbun, but the bare minumum you expected from your eejit of a son was to take your words seriously when you asked not to go to that mission. That one mission, mind you, out of every crazy and dangerous endeavour your Johnny got up to since before he could walk properly (although he skipped the phase entirely, immediately opting to run) - you always supported him and tried to be understanding.

You flicked his nose when he came home dirty after playing football in the rain and prepared warm dinner while he cleaned himself and washed his own clothes like a good boy. You sighed and ruffled what was left of his hair the day he returned with that moronic haircut, beaming like the sun itself. You slapped upside his head and scolded him before pulling out his favourite out of the oven after he was kicked out from whatever military base he tried to sneak into to be like his cousin.

Johnny could call you strict, scary and warn all his mates of you with a shit-eating grin all he wanted, but you were sure you had never given him a reason to believe you would worry over nothing.

"Dinnae fash yersel, Mam," was all you got after a hearfelt and arguemented plea to stay away from trouble this time, along with a kiss on a cheek, and there he went.

Not so fast, John MacTavish.

Of course he got his stubborness and determination to get whatever he wanted from you. The amount of times he ran off before he was of age just to try his luck and get enlisted? The clenching of his proud Scottish jaw as he pushed himself to do better, lift heavier, shoot sharper, run faster? Once Johnny was set on something, he went all-in. Too bad sitting still and quiet in school never got to be one of his priorities even for a week. But that's how you raised him, and if anyone could match him, it was you.

You were suprised how easy it was to bully and bribe your way into the base. Just an unthreatening older woman with some home-cooked pie, already sliced up for the sweet, sweet boys at the entrance.

Och, yer Ma' usually bakes these too? 'N' wi' some carrot? Ye should ask her fur a recipe, leannan, Ah will lea' ye mines sae we can exchange. Ah actually hae mah laddie right there oan th' base, he's a sergeant, aye, mah muckle laddie. Ah wanted tae surprise him wi' his fave', bit didnae ken tis sae secreteve 'ere… Mibbie ye could pass it tae him? Och but it'll get cauld 'n' nasty… Och, ye will let me in fur a few minutes? Well aren't ye th' sweetest wee jimmies. Yer Mams must be proud o' ye, Ah ken Ah'm, knowing such mighty lads are protecting us.

Breaching the first line of defence was a piece of cake - well, pie. The second went even smoother, no one paying attention to you as you simply floated along the perimeter, avoiding miscellaneous looks from busy officers and privates bustling about their day. Hiding in plane sight, not even trying to blend in - you minced in your old trusty shoes up to the big area with several aircrafts scattered around.

Aha. That's your goal. You adjusted your purse on your shoulder and moved to continue your way, when someone finally noticed your unwanted presence.

"Is that a... who the hell let a civilian in the landing zone? Oi! M'am! M'am, stop! M'am, you're not supposed to be here!"

Hearing someone's heavy steps picking up behind your back, you kept your steady stride for a few more moments, eyes scanning the vast plane of the zone, determined to find at least someone you knew - and they you hit jackpot. Loud thumping of helicopter blades, distant at first, grew rapidly, almost deafening at the point when someone's heavy hand grabbed your elbow.

"M'am, are you lost? It's dangerous here! DAN-GE-ROUS!" The officer yelled into your ear, probably both hoping to overpower the landing helicopter and thinking you were old, frail and deaf.

Such a naive lad.

That metal bird barely stopped chirping before you wriggled out of the officer's grasp and sprinted towards several tall figures unloading from the helo. Your target stood straight, big headphones denting his ruffled mohawk, already up for a trimming. He definitely heard the officer's loud yelling, turned around, curious as ever, and locked eyes with you - all laughter wiped off his face immediately, baby blues he inherited from you round and popping out of their sockets.

"Mam?! Wha' are ye doin'-" - "JOHN MACTAVISH! Dinnae "mam" me, ye reckless bampot! Ah didnae raise ye tae be a sleekit potatoe waving yer own mother off!"

You jumped away from the officer who almost caught up with you and used your purse to shield yourself from him, never losing pale and positively terrified and dumbfounded Johnny out of sight.

"Get awa' from me, ye eejit, that's mah son 'n' Ah'm talking tae him! Look at me, Johnny!" You finally reached him and tilted your stern face up, glaring at yout sheepish son. His eyes stopped darting around and snapped directly at you. Still a good boy, after all. "Dae ye hae any idea how worried Ah was? Come 'ere now or Ah will drag ye by yer scruff, Ah swear. Come 'ere!"

You reached up to cup hus face, noticing a fresh bruise and a split brow, your motherly heart aching, but still proud that your wee boy came back from a dangerous operation alive. With teary eyes, you tried to pull him in for a big forgiving smooch, but he finally unfroze and pulled back, slowly starting to go red in his cheeks - so his ears must have been burning for some time already. Still, you looked at him, outraged, and huffed, propping one hand on your hip.

"What? Ah wanntae kiss mah laddie!" You could see Johnny's face flush brighter, mortified expression cut into his pleading eyebrows. He shouldn't have been doing that, that nasty scar was bleeding hardeer, your poor wee boy.

"''ere?! Richt naew?!" Before you could even start scolding him for denying his own mother such a simple thing, someone else's rich voice cut in through barely suppressed laughter.

"Come on, Johnny, tha's no way to talk to your mother. Be a good boy 'n' give 'er a big kiss." Recognizing Ghost from your laddie's tales wasn't hard at all - you met his dark, hooded eyes and gave him a firm, grateful nod, which he reciprocated with a gruff chuckle.

Defeated, Johnny leaned down, sliding his headphones down to his neck, and didn't even hiss as you yanked him by his ear lower to give him a loud, loving smooch on his cheek.

On the way out they sourced four big lads to escort you. As if the whole army would be able to stop you if you decided to give your son a proper whooping.

[itz-pandora]

Guys watch this before clicking read more

I have so many thoughts

THE PARALLEL BETWEEN MARIA'S WOUND AND THE DESTROYED MOON?!!! OH MY GOD!!!! OH MY. MY GOD. That's the entire reason I started writing my thoughts down because that's way past important. Where's that post about the symbolism and correlation between Maria's name and the moon because that's all I can think about

AND I LOVE how they're choosing to portray Maria recently, excited and eager for everything, even though it hurts her. Also how fascinated she is with earth makes me happy. I love the idea she'll just endlessly ramble to Shadow about Earth. Also her VA does a good job at letting you know how out of breath she is and how she's still all upbeat even tho she's literally about to pass out

Also ?!!! I AM GOING A BIT CRAZY AT SHADOWS PORTRAYAL!! I'm so hyped to see how he's interpreted in Generations. He seems so confused, and like each time period he's in impacts his personality heavily, like he's still with them on the ARK. He wants to save everyone even though he knows he can't and I'm SCRATCHING AT THE WALLS because of it. I think the way that they'll try to portray him going into the past is with him being only half-aware of everything, OR, HE'S TRYING TO LIVE A LIE TO MAKE HIMSELF FEEL BETTER. Ohmygod the second one makes me feel ill because he just wants to be happy, he wants to keep his little family together and safe, but he knows that the fate is inevitable, just wondering if he could've stopped it. It's haunting to him. The feeling of not being in control is present throughout the entire episode, where he's constantly dragged through each event, each one being more exhausting than the last. Everything is happening to him, he's not the driving force, and that's the sad part, he had an entire game about defining his identity, and still, he's always been a puppet to someone else, bent to their will.

I'M SO CURIOUS ABOUT WHAT THEY'RE PLANNING WITH GERALD BECAUSE ITS DEFINITELY SOMETHING. SHADOW WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU??? Shadow had to PHYSICALLY CLASP HIS HEAD BECAUSE OF THIS. I NEED TO KNOW.

Dude is this supposed to be Shadow's second traumatic flashback regarding the ARK, since in the hero story of SHTH, there's an entire level about the ARK where he plays with Maria as his sidekick, and it was triggered by hearing the sirens of the ARK (which I LOVE btw. Of COURSE he'd associate the noise with events since it's been drilled into his psyche before the amnesia)

I LOVE how scared he is at the end. He's sooooo panicked. I love how they give him the sparks when he's overwhelmed, it makes me feel so happy.

Who is HE?! It can't be Shadow before his memory loss, that guy did NOT SURVIVE. Also idk if they're going to return to the "pre and post amnesia Shadow are different people" thing they implied, because I think it'd be best to have it be like his memories are fragmented, and it's all about remembering, and THEN WE GET A NEW INTERPRETATION OF SHADOW?? Pls? Like not new but somewhere in between SA2 and after that, but with more little brother energy because MARIA IS HERE!!!!

GUYS WHAT ARE THOSE FLOWERS AT THE END AND WHAT DO THEY MEAN. PLEASE TELL ME SINCE THEY PROBABLY HAVE SYMBOLISM

This is so disorganized sorry I'm not normal at all

And ofc Eggman's piss was still on the moon. We love continuity

[xxchumanixx]

Hiii! If its not much trouble could I request a tim Bradford and reader fic where she's really shy and sensitive, but still diligent at work and his rookie? He usually had a soft spot for her bcs he has a crush on her but she messes up a case and gets yell at by him?? Calls her a crybaby and all?? But later he comforts her and confesses? Maybe she thinks he likes lucy up until that point?? Just a lot of angst filled with pining and fluff! Thanks sm and I love your workk💕

Headrush

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Warnings/Tags: language! (Shut up, Steve), fluff, hurt, angst

Word count: 2.523

Authors note: Oh my god, it's been so long, I'm so sorry! Thank you a lot for your request! I really liked the idea and I hope you'll like how I wrote it.

Lots of love! ❤️

Please, as always

Enjoy!

"Shit, shit, shit!" you cursed under your breath, biting your lip as your fingers anxiously fiddled with the belt on your hips.

This was not how this case was supposed to go.

Not at all.

It was like a damn domino effect - one thing went down the hill, and so did the rest one after another.

A whole fucking shitshow.

That your suspect was lying dead on the street was just the cherry on top.

He had tried to run from you, not watching where he went. You tried to warn him, yelled that he should watch out, when a car hit him, and sent him flying over the street.

Tim stood beside you, eyes wide and mouth agape, not really believing what he saw. He wasn't sure whether to yell at you, comfort you, or just get back in the car.

He gritted his teeth, hands balling into fists. He usually was softer with you, than he was with other rookies he had.

You just didn't know that he harbored feelings for you that went far beyond being your TO.

A conflicting thing, really.

"You-" he started, cutting himself off, eyes flying over the scene. The dead man on the floor, the shocked civilians all around you.

The poor woman that drove the car that hit the man.

The ambulance covered the man with a sheet, calling the coroner.

That was what snapped him.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Tim spoke up, rasing his voice as he looked down at you. "What the hell did you think?" You flinched at his tone, some of your usual shyness and sensitivity shining through.

Tim bit his cheek, so hard he almost drew blood.

He felt bad, sorry even.

To yell at you was one of the things he wanted the least, but he had no other choice if he wanted you to be successful.

At least, that's what he told himself.

"Sir, I-" you wanted to defend yourself, but he didn't let you. Once he was in that stage of rage, it was hard to see an escape through the fog.

"No, of course you did not!" he went on, the look on his face both terrifying and breaking you.

To ever think you'd stand a chance with the man yelling down at you seemed like the stupidest thing in the world suddenly.

"How could you let him get this far?" he continued to rage, seemingly not caring about the people around you that started to watch the commotion. "You should have stopped him!"

You swallowed, a bitter pill you'd forced upon yourself by letting the suspect get this far. That you'd fallen pretty badly along the way, most likely spraining your ankle, wasn't important anymore.

Who knew if he'd even seen it?

"I- I'm sorry." you breathed out, doing your best not to lose your face in front of him. The day had started bad, and it got worse the longer it went on. "I shouldn't have let him get this far."

Tim scoffed, hands fisting his belt as he looked around you. "I shouldn't have let you handle this on your own." he spoke, voice a mix of regret and spite. "I should have known better."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You knew you were ready, and damn he knew it, too. Mistakes were normal, no matter how long you were doing the job already. But with your last week as a rookie rolling around, he pushed you more and more beyond your limits.

You felt tears burn in your eyes, the ugly tugging sensation in your jaw when you tried your very best to hold them back.

But Tim had already seen them.

His head tilted in disbelief, eyes widening before they narrowed.

Not a good sign.

"Are you gonna cry?" he asked, voice full of disbelief. "Are you kidding me? What are you? A fucking crybaby?"

Told you so.

You cleared your throat, cheeks burning in shame.

"No, no, of course not." you mumbled, trying to steady your voice. Tim tilted his head more, sending you a look that told you to repeat yourself. "No, I'm not crying." you repeated louder, looking up at him.

To say his behavior hurt was an understatement.

"Get in the car." he hissed, motioning at the shop. You nodded, doing as he told you without protesting.

It wouldn't have done you any good, anyway.

Moral of the story suddenly played in your head, and you couldn't help but think how right Ashe was, as you climbed into the passengers seat.

You had learned a lot about Tim the last year, yet he surprised you with how cold and harsh he was right now.

You should have never let your stupid crush get out of hand like this. Maybe to be hurt like this, to be talked down by him like that - maybe that was your moral of the story.

Like they said: Never fuck the company.

Not that you and Tim had gotten physically close somehow, but that didn't stop your mind from imagining sometimes.

You just were glad you experienced him like this before anything could have happened.

Not that you had much faith in that, anyway.

____

You let out a sigh, as you finally made your way out of the station.

It had been a long day, maybe the longest of your life. After driving back you had to wait before being questioned about the incident. It went on for nearly two hours, in which they decided you weren't responsible for the suspects death.

Yes, he had run from you, but it was his own decision, and you had tried to warn him.

You body-cam proofed it.

You hadn't seen Tim since you'd gotten out of the shop, silently thankful for it.

You didn't know if you'd been able to endure another round of his scolding today without actually breaking down.

Seeing Lucy though, only pressed on your sore nerves more. Yes, you liked her as a friend, but the thought that Tim seemed head over heels for her warred with that.

Only a fool wouldn't see.

The cold night air hit your skin, effectively cooling it down and clearing your head a little. You hoped to get home and fall in bed, only waking up again when you would have forgotten this day.

But someone seemed to have other plans.

"Y/N, wait!" he called out after you, and you only then noticed that his car was still in the almost empty parking lot.

You debated whether to ignore him, act like you didn't hear, but your consciousness said otherwise. You turned around as he stopped in front of you, silently cursing yourself for being such a good person.

He seemed at a loss for words for a moment, lips parted, like he didn't expect you to actually wait. "Listen," he then started, brows furrowing slightly as his gaze drifted away for a brief second. "I didn't mean to be so harsh on you back there."

You frowned, blinking a few times in confusion. Was he a-

"I'm sorry."

You didn't know what to say, now at a loss for words yourself. "I- i'ts okay." you then said after finding your voice, biting your cheek. "You lectured me, and it's not like it wasn't justified, sir."

He gritted his teeth, you could see even in the dim streetlight.

"No, that was too harsh." he gave back, shaking his head, frown deepened. "It wasn't your fault he was hit by the car. You tried to warn him and he didn't listen."

You pushed your bottom lip forward, not sure where his sudden change in mood came from. "Look, sir-" you started, but he cut you off. "Stop that." he demanded, the frown on his face bordering on angry now.

Your lips parted in confusion, not sure what you did wrong now.

"Stop calling me sir." he said. "We both know that's needless. It's not like- I mean, you're one week away from becoming a p2. We both know you'll make it with flying colors. Call me Tim."

He was selfish, he knew it.

But if it meant he'd hear his name from your mouth even once, he'd do anything. He didn't know yet if you'd choose to stay after graduation, and he'd have to take what he got.

He was in way too deep.

You swallowed before you nodded, gaze meeting the ground. Your teeth maltreated your cheek, not sure how to react.

"I've never- I've never seen a dead person like this before." you suddenly spoke, looking back up at him. "I didn't know where my head was, and you yelled at me. I was overwhelmed."

It just bubbled out of you. Maybe the dim lighting made you bolder.

"That's not me." you continued, shaking your head. "I- I'm tidily, I always make sure to give my best, it just-" Without you noticing, tears formed in the corners of your eyes, and you gasped for air.

Tim's own eyes widened, as he realized you were about to panic.

He closed the distance, wrapping his arms around you.

It was pure instinct, every nerve in him telling him to hug you, to comfort you.

To not make him see you cry.

He couldn't.

"It's okay." he spoke softly, as your fingers fisted the material of his jacket. "It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry for yelling at you."

You couldn't help the tears from flowing, not when he held you like this, doing his best to make you feel better.

"I should have known." you sobbed, pushing the shame for crying onto his jacket aside for now. "I wasn't ready."

He shooed you, one hand carding through your hair.

He knew if someone saw you two, this would have ended badly.

But he couldn't bring himself to care.

"You are ready." he gave back. "More than ready. I've seen you out there, you always have yourself under control. You're diligent, something that not every rookie is. You may be shy, and maybe a bit sensitive, but that's something good. You know how to talk to people, you understand them. And I know this wasn't your fault. You did your absolute best, and that's exactly what I told them back there."

You swallowed, cheeks heating up at his words.

You didn't expect him to be so open and soft with you.

"You- you really think that?" you asked, sniffing as the tears slowly subsided. He chuckled softly. "God, you have no clue." he mumbled, gaze flitting over the dark parking lot.

You frowned, not sure what he meant. But before you could have asked, he continued on his own.

"I'm not good at this emotional stuff." he said with a huff. "But you are. And I'm grateful for it, I really am, because I learned to get better at it, because of you. And I'm supposed to be the TO here, not you."

You chuckled, not having expected him to learn something from you whilst training you.

"You should talk to Lucy, then." you suggested, the thought jabbing at your heart. But if he wanted her, he'd be prepared for the emotional talk now, then.

Tim frowned, looking down at you with confusion. He gently pushed you away enough to look in your eyes.

"What do you mean?" he wanted to know, trying to make out what you were telling him. Your cheeks heated up, but you knew there was no turning back now.

Might as well reap what you've sown by digging into his personal life.

"I mean that you can tell her how you feel if you're better at emotional stuff now." you explained, doing your best to look encouraging. He scoffed a laugh, nose crinkling slightly. "Wait, you think I-" he started, but cut himself off with another laugh.

You frowned, suddenly feeling uncertain. "Yes, I mean-" you wanted to explain yourself, but he cut you off, hands on your arms as he leaned a bit down to look into your eyes. "No." he said firmly, a grin on his lips. "I'm not in love with Lucy."

The thought almost seemed absurd to him.

Why would he want Lucy when you were here, standing right in front of him?

Your frown deepened, thoughts running a million miles a minute. "Wait, you're not?" you asked, voice carrying a hint of disbelief and maybe relief. He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. "No." he confirmed. "I'm not."

Silence hung between you like a heavy fog, only broken by a huff leaving your lips. "Well, I'm not as good at reading people as I thought I am." you mumbled, biting your cheek.

He shrugged as if to say I noticed. "If you were you would have known I don't want Lucy." he said, empathizing her name.

You cocked a brow, looking up at him again. "What do you mean?"

He sent you a smile that sent your heart into a frenzy, and for a moment you thought you'd have a head rush. "I mean," he began, eyes wandering over your face. "That I can't wait for you to be a p2."

You felt dumb.

"Tim-" you started, but cut yourself off, as realization suddenly hit you like a freight train. "Wait, what?"

He chuckled, a sound that seared its way into your brain the first time you'd heard it. "Yes." he confirmed. "I don't want Lucy, because I already want you, Y/N."

It felt like the night sky had decided to let all it's lucky stars rain down on you at once.

A mix of emotions rushed through you, and you felt like you'd actually have a headrush.

"What- How?" you stammered, words escaping your brain. "I- I mean, why me? Why not her?"

Tim cocked a brow at your words. He knew you'd say something like that, a clear sign of how well he knew you by now. "Because you're you." he said. "Because you care. You're smart, funny, cute. You are a good cop, and I couldn't ask for more in a person than you already are. I don't want Lucy, because I'm not interested in her the way that I'm interested in you."

You inhaled shakily, his words like a balm to your wounded heart.

"And if you'd let me, I'd like to take you out once you're officially a p2." he added with hope shining in his bright eyes.

A smile spread your lips at his words. "I'd love to go out with you, Tim." you gave back, causing his own smile to grow.

His eyes fell to the smile on your lips, and suddenly he cared even less about the open space of the parking lot.

"Can I kiss you?" he wanted to know, eyes finding their way back to yours.

Your smile widened, and you nodded. "You can."

It was delicate the way he pressed his lips to yours, like petals of a flower. One hand snaked its way into your hair, cupping the back of your head to pull you closer. Your own hands gripped his jacket, anchoring you.

It was all you could have wished for.

And suddenly, the headrush wasn't so unpleasant anymore.

Tag List:

@newobsessionweekly @laheysfilm @dhundhchrih @augustvandyne @rookietrek @nachofriess @dtftheavengers @wonderland2425 @freyathehuntress @skywalker0809

[ladylooch]

Surprises in Seattle - [Liv X Luca]

A/N: The way this took me forever to come up with an idea for... and then I wrote it in an hour and it was suddenly over 2k words... Writing is wild man. WILD! Thank you 🇧🇷 anon for the request. Sorry for how long this took.......... yikes!

Original Request: I would love for a small thing of Liv and Father in law Kev interacting, I think there's has to be funny moments between those two that will leave him laughing wildly and she getting soooo embarrassed!!!! 😂😂😂 - 🇧🇷

Word Count: 2.2k

Have fun tonight, baby. I’m so proud of you 😘

Liv reads off the text quickly while she finishes out the last curl of her hair. Once it’s set, she rips the plug out of the wall and hastily rushes out of the bathroom to grab her purse and jacket.

I wish you were here, babe. Good luck tonight! And be safe

Liv responds as she walks out of her hotel room. She double checks she has what she needs- key, purse, jacket, phone- then let’s the door close softly behind her. 

Tonight is a long anticipated night for Liv. It’s the first day of her second book tour. She’s doing a book signing at the cute, local bookshop across the street. This book tour is so much more chaotic for her because she self-published her second book. After all the issues she had with her previous team not seeing the same vision for the book, Liv quietly walked away from them. Truthfully, they let her go easily, not seeing much of a reason to fight her wishes. Fine with her. She knows what she is capable of. Never again is a board room full of people going to tell her what to do with her art.

She has Ryder to thank for that. Without his fierce belief in her years ago, she wouldn’t be where she is now. She’s thankful now that the past is in the past and they’ve all been able to move forward, especially with Ryder’s recent trade to the Kings. 

Liv’s black heels clack against the tile of the hotel lobby. She makes her way out the door, then falters slightly when she sees the line outside the bookstore. She bites her lip then quickly takes a picture to send to her fiancé. 

Baby, you’re so popular 😏,  he immediately texts back

You better not be texting and driving.

Oops. Love you! 

Liv rolls her eyes at her man’s worst habit. Then with confidence in her step, she crosses the street to the bookstore hosting her event. The crowd sees her step onto the sidewalk and they begin to clap for her. Liv gives them a huge smile, dimples out and proud, along with an enthusiastic wave.

“Thank you all for coming! I can’t wait to meet you!” She calls back to them, then slides into the bookstore. The owner, Lillianne, ushers her to a makeshift curtain room where she can sit in privacy until the event begins.

“Are you still okay with doing the Q&A before the signing?”

“Of course!” Liv confirms. She hopes there aren’t any awkward silences with fans not having anything to ask her. Otherwise, this long anticipated night is going to end quickly.

In another few minutes, the crowd is allowed into the store, bring noise into the normally quiet space. Liv does a few breathing exercises to settle the nervous butterflies fluttering in her stomach. As a writer, she knows this is part of the job, but she still worried that her fans won’t like her. She would never want someone to come away from an interaction with her and be disappointed. 

From behind the curtain, Liv watches as people being to filter into the seating area. She wishes she had someone in the crowd for her today, but this is the only stop on her tour where she won’t be able to meet someone after. She has five more stops after this. Savannah is meeting her in Atlanta, her parents in NYC, Luca in L.A., Mack in Chicago, and Luca’s little sister, Lena, in Phoenix.

But tonight in Seattle, it’s only supposed to be her. 

Yet, when she steps onto the stage, the first person her eyes land on is Kevin Fiala in the front row. Her steps almost falter, but then she waves and continues forward. He cheers excitedly for her appearance and Liv can’t help but grin wider. 

Kevin’s presence helps ground her in confidence as she beings the Q&A. The thoughtfulness of their questions has Liv buzzing with excitement. They wonder about the main characters, her writing style, how this process was different from her first book. There are also questions about what it is like to date a professional athlete, how her and Luca have found a balance with their successful careers and of course, what is in the future.

“I think our biggest focus right now is this book tour for me. Then it’s back to hockeyland before we get married this coming summer.”

“Will you change your name!?” Someone shouts out without the microphone.

“Yeah, I think Livia Fiala has a great ring to it.” She grins. “But I’m not sure if I will change my pen name yet. It’s an ongoing discussion.” 

With that, the Q&A is finished and Liv begins to head off to the signing table, but not before a quick, rushed hug to Kevin.

“You’re here?!” She greets him.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He smiles. Liv gives him a grateful smile, then heads back behind the table. The next interaction she has with him is cheeky and adorable.

He proudly displays her cover to her in both hands, then taps her name at the bottom.

“Fiala will look much better than this.”

“I’ll be sure to tell my fiancé that. He will appreciate the support.” She chuckles. Kevin slides the book across the table to her. Liv blushes at how sweet it is of him to be here to support her AND buy a book he could easily get for free. “Should I make this out to anyone?”

“Yes, my son, Luca. L-U-C-A.” He jokingly spells out as Liv chomps down on her bottom lip to stop from laughing. She concentrates on the letters of her fiancé’s name. “He’s a huge fan of your work.” Liv’s mind immediately goes to how appreciative of her work Luca was before he took her to the airport this morning. Her giggle escapes and she looks back at Kevin brightly.

“Anything in particular you want me to say to him?”

“Please write: Your dad was my favorite Swiss hockey player growing up.”

“No.” Liv laughs immediately. “My dad would be crushed! And probably my uncle too…”

“Okay, okay.” Kevin concedes. “Hm, what would you want it to say?” He asks, quieter, more reflective. Liv contemplates then tilts down to write: 

I can’t wait to get home to you. I love you! XOXO Livy.

Liv finishes off with a heart after her name, then gently closes the book. She hands it to Kevin.

“He will love that.” He murmurs. “

“I think so.”

“Can I take you to dinner to celebrate?”

“I would really love that. Thank you.” Liv smiles at her future father-in-law. “I think your son would probably love a picture.”

“He would. Otherwise he is gonna think his mom signed this for him.” Liv belly laughs. She stands up next to Kevin, pointing and looking surprised for their selfie as Kevin grins next to her.

“Nice to meet you Ms. Fiala- Uh Meier.” He stutters. “Sorry, Fiala just sounds so natural for you.” Then he saunters away, leaving Liv giggling in his wake. 

Liv continues signing and engaging with fans. From the corner of her eye, she can see people divert to Kevin for a picture or autograph. He tentatively comes over to interrupt and asks if it is okay with her before he signs anything.

“Yes! Go for it!” She assures, but is truly touched that he wants to be sure the attention stays on her. 

Although he engages in some hockey talk, Liv can hear Kevin bring the conversation away from him and back to her work time and time again. He enthusiastically talks about her new book and characters, even speaking about his favorite scene towards the end. Liv is touched that he read it, and also a little embarrassed considering there is a smutty hot tub scene in the middle chapters. Her neck flushes as she thinks about the real life scenario with his son that inspired that. 

It is after 8pm by the time all the fans have been greeted and books signed. Liv reunites with Kevin for dinner. She requests they go to a bar to find the Kings game, knowing it’s a nationally televised game. 

“Luca scored the first goal.” Kevin fills in for her as she squints at the score. The Kings are up on the Flyers 2-1.

“Nice!” Liv murmurs, then drops her eyes to the menu. They both order and watch the game in relative silence, outside a comment or so about the game. It’s comfortable and appreciated after Liv just did so much conversing. Her energy is zapped.

“Did Luca put you up to this?” Liv finally asks after they have finished dinner. 

“No. He doesn’t know I’m here.” Kevin tells her. “But we were talking to him earlier this week and he did mention you were nervous about being here alone.” He takes a sip of water. “Your our daughter, Livy. If any of our kids were worried about something like this, Sam and I would be there to support them. So here I am. If Sam wasn’t sick, she would be here too.” Liv knows that. She bites her lip for a moment, feeling overcome with the emotions of the whole day. 

“Thank you. I’m really lucky.” She murmurs. 

“You also look very tired.”

“Yeah.” She starts to laugh.

Kevin grabs the bill from the waiter and pays it before Liv can get her hands on it.

“No kid of mine pays for dinner either.” He insists when she balks. 

“A lot of rules to being your kid. Somehow more than Timo Meier…” Liv teases. Kevin laughs. 

“You are lucky Emma is your mom. The Hischier in her balances everything out.” Liv nods. This is true.

“Are you leaving early tomorrow?” Liv asks as they step back out onto the street.

“I am here until noon.” 

“Great, then I’ll take you to breakfast before the airport.”

“Sure, but you’re not paying.” Kevin points a scolding finger at her, lowering his eyebrows.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Liv affirms. 

As she snuggles into her hotel bed for the night, she sends a text to Luca seeing if he is home yet. His response is a FaceTime call.

“Hellooooo!” Luca cheers. “Oh! She’s in bed!” He grins. “Is this a sexy FaceTime?”

“No.” She says through a yawn. “I just called to say goodnight. I’m dead. And I have to meet your dad for breakfast tomorrow.”

“My dad?” He questions.

“Yeah, he showed up tonight. Bought a book and everything. Let me send you the picture.” She hears the ding and adores the instant smile when he looks it over on his screen.

“Wow, he’s so cool. I wanna be like him when I grow up.” Luca laughs as he takes something out of the microwave. “Pasta.” He shows her the bowl, then spoons a huge, steaming forkful into his mouth. “Hawt.” He huffs out. Liv can only shake her head. “That’s awesome that he came tho. I didn’t expect that. Was mom with him?”

“No, she is sick.” 

“Oh, damn. I bet that killed her not being able to come. Still cool that dad came alone though.” 

“Your dad called me his kid like all night. This one sweet older man came up to him and complimented him on raising me.” 

“I hope he corrected that.” Luca gives her a knowing look.

“He made sure to tell the man that he was the dad I always deserved but didn’t have growing up.” Luca barks out a laugh.

“You know he is going to text your dad that later.”

“Oh I’m sure he already has.” Liv chuckles. “But yeah, it was really nice. The night.. hearing that… having him show up for me. I feel really lucky to share your family with you.”

“My family loves you, baby. But nowhere near as much as I do.” He says softly. “I’m glad you had a good night. You deserve this success.” Liv lets his words soak into her skin. Before, she would have blushed and brushed that off, but Luca is right. She does deserve this. She’s worked and fought her ass off to get here. 

“Thank you. I miss you though. I wish there weren’t so many days before we see each other again.” She huffs. While Liv is going back to L.A. for the weekend, Luca will be heading out of town on a road trip. 

“I know, baby. I miss you too.” He murmurs, pushing his empty bowl across the counter. They stare at each other and as he always does, Luca knows her thoughts before she can fully think them. “We are okay.” He fills the silent worry she has that distance will stretch them too far again. “Two weeks is nothing for us.” He reminds her. She nods in assurance. 

He is right. Liv bites her bottom lip, then looks up at him with dewy eyes. Luca perks up from his slouch.

“This is a sexy FaceTime!!!!” He yells as he runs out of the kitchen, heading towards their bedroom. 

Liv smirks. 

He’s been so good to her, supportive and unwavering, he deserves a little bedtime show.

[muovipalikka]

G. So they shared 1/2

Kremy had noticed himself asking Gideon more and more often to confirm that their marrige was ironic. Especially since they had started sharing a bedroll. Gideons bedroll had disappeared somewhere. Kremy was sure that Gricko had something to do with it he just hadn't found the evidence yet. Anyway Gideon was without a bedroll and Kremy was a bit cold so he told Gideon to get over there.

Gideon accepted even if sharing a bedroll with Kremy made his stomach itch in an odd way, but he didn't want to sleep on the ground. Getting in the bedroll he jokingly said "Wasn't this supposed to have happend on our weddin' night" Kremy let out an anxious cackel and turned on his side not facing Gideon. Welp' that coud've gone better Gideon thought, but it was too late now.

He just laid there on his back waiting for sleep. Until he heard Kremy quietly ask "Our marrige is just ironic right gid?" Gideon didn't know what he was supposed to do, but say yes. Like Kremy wanted him to. So he did.

It had become a habit him asking Gideon if their marrige was ironic. Kremy probably asked him every time they went to bed. And every time Kremy would hear a simple "yea.." over his shoulder.

They had gotten some rastions today. Gideon had avoided the shelf with camping gear on it. Hopin' that Kremy wouldn't mention it and he didn't. He never did. So they continued sleeping together. Their bedroll was a little to small for the both of them and that was surely the only reason for Gideon waking up in the middle night with Kremy snuggled up against him.

Saying Kremy was a little embarrassed the first time it happend was a gross understatement. One morning he woke up with his face pressed to Gideons neck his hands around him. Kremy had succeeded at getting up without waking Gideon and continued to do so every morning after that. So what he was cold blooded, he got cold easily and Gideon was warm. He was just glad Gideon woudn't notice anything since Kremy always woke up first.

It had been weeks now since Gideons bedroll had gotten lost. Kremy had thought about getting him a new one. It wasn't like there hadn't been opportunities. They had even gotten Frost a new one. They just hadn't gotten gid a new bedroll and gid seemed to never be looking for one so they shared.

Until one morning Gricko and Twig had uncharacteristically woken up first and were hungry so they had sneeked into the tent that Kremy and Gideon now shared. Just as Gricko was leaving. He heard Twig go "Awww" then he noticed the two "husbands" cuddled up together.

Gideon woke up to Twigsy not so quietly whispering to Gricko "See I told you" "It's not ironic!" Gideon now leening on one elbow still holding kremy to his side. Tried to shush her. When Gricko tripped and dropped everything he was holding.

Kremy woke to a crash he was holding tightly onto Gideon and seeing that it was Gricko he was mortified and then he turned his head to see Twig exitedly telling Gideon something. But Kremy was too embarrased to hear anything. Gricko and Twig had seen him cuddling Gideon and since Gideon had woken up before him he had also seen it.

So Kremy deatached himself from Gideon as quikly as possible trying to save something of his immage. He didn't look at Gideon simply picking up his pots and pans from where Gricko had tripped not helping the goblin up. He quickly started on breakfest. Noticing Frost and Torbek peeking out from their tents. He thought "great everyone knows, now I'll never live this down"

Gideon was a bit confused at Kremys sudden exit, but maybe he was just irritaided at having been woken up he thought until he focused back on twigsy who had practically climed on Gideons chest still prattling on about how she knew about the two of them and then he realised Kremy was embarassed.

It was evening now and Kremy had avoided him all day. Gricko was preparing Hootsie for bed and Gideon was in his old tent which now belonged to Twigsy. She had made sure he tucked her in every night. Gideon was concidering asking her if he could sleep here tonight. Since Kremy had been avoiding him.

Gideon hadn't come to their tent yet and Kremy was worried he woudn't come at all. Kremy gathered a bit of courage and walked to Twig's tent. Seeing Gideon there tucking her in made his heart swell.

"gid you coming to bed?" Was all Gideon needed to hear to practically jump up and say goodnight to Twigsy. Smiling at his husband.

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

Ok I started writting this last wednesday and it just isn't stopping so it's gonna be two chapters.

⇩Here are some of my other ideas if you wanna cheak em out!⇩

I guess I write now so I think I'll be making a poll so look out for that

Thanks for reading!

[neyafromfrance95]

what's wrong with haladriel tag today? everyone is spreading hate or getting baited by the antis. doom and gloom. only a few posts are of the shippers goofing or discussing the ep in a way that doesn't feel like the show ended haladriel for good.

yeah, idk. i try to not scroll down the tag nowadays. i finished the episode and it was fine to me. i understand everyone's complaints and frustrations as i myself wished for sauron to see galadriel being in captivity at least (and my main issue is galadriel's shortened screentime), but i feel like we might be overreacting a bit and ruining our own shipping experience?

what saddens me the most is that i don't see the fan creations getting appreciated. the shippers would make great gifsets, edits, art - no reblogs. write fics - no comments or kudos. maybe the fandom is still small but i look at the stuff from s1 and it had so much more interaction and encouragement from other shippers.

even the metas from s1 aren't all about "when will celeborn appear and can galadriel be shipped with sauron when she is married to celeborn?" it seems like haladriels didn't give a f about that forced discourse back then and were just wholly enjoying the ship.

as i've said, i think elrond kiss is not the worst thing for haladriels. it might indicate that celeborn won't be introduced (yet), so galadriel won't have to "go back to being his wife". elrond/galadriel won't turn any more romantic than this, at most it will be ambiguous. and they might be testing the waters for how the audiences react to canon divergence. if elrond can be galadriel's jacob, why can't sauron be her edward?

listen, so many of the most iconic ships have never kissed or were never officially a couple. if the dynamic is shippable then why stop shipping just bc a season doesn't go exactly as the fans wanted it to go in their wildest dreams? we still have s3, there still might be the mind-palace communication explored in s3. after all we know the whole show was inspired by the idea that sauron ever so gropes to see galadriel and at some point galadriel closes the door on him but he still allows her to roam his mind freely!

+ this season still was like a continuation of sauron and galadriel mirroring each other, it confirmed that galadriel has feelings for sauron and that sauron is obsessed with her. there is still one ep left where this slow-burn build-up is supposed to climax.

my point is, let's try to be more positive? and being positive isn't necessarily confined to being delulu. it means creating fan content or hyping up fan creations, it means taking what we get in the episodes and dissecting it with passion, engaging with analysis, having fun!

i have been in many other fandoms and i know that a fandom can't be longevous if it's sustained on frustration and negativity and discourse 80% of the time.

for what's it worth, let's let the creators know that we want haladriel, not that we hate the show the same way the lorebros hate it. yk?

[multapohja966]

boygroups are built on the “non-threatening and relatable to young women” -male concept, which caused me to be vigilant and untrusting of these celebrities maybe too much (though not completely unjustifyingly) bcs what they looked and seemed like was a performanse. these men don’t share your values etc.. so i only resently realised boy groups have given many women a safe way to view men just interacting and being human without the weight of romantic context. concidering how deeply we separate the genders it is actually quite rare. 

boy band culture is potrayed as only a deeply alienating experience between the binary genders. like the format of it would only deepen the lasck of understanding between. that there exists only charicatures on both sides. the hysteric female stan sexualises a hypothetical boyfriend concept sold to her and the naive yet sexist male idol sees the fans merely as means to an end not deserving of understanding. but in reality there’s a rare and unique form of platonic love, respect and understanding between these groups. a lot of it strengthetened by the somewhat social alienation of both. catering to a female audience and being in a boy band will keep a male idol separate from hegemonic masculinity and being a fan girl is notoriously looked down upon. so excistance of the micro culture requires separation from the mainstream and inner group reliance. radio regulars don’t need to culminate a dedicated fanbase but kpop groups get almost all of their revenue from fans.

[bayesiandragon]

Not sure I care enough to engage with the post, but to read SVSSS + extras and come away with the interpretation that SJ doesn't care about why YQY failed to save him, just that he did fail, and therefore would never forgive him or change his behavior towards him if he learned the truth, feels off-place to me. It seems to lean into the view that SJ doesn't actually care about YQY, just sees him as a useful tool, and thus couldn't be hurt by the supposed abandonment - with that interpretation it would then make sense to think he would neither care nor change his behavior (towards YQY) upon learning what actually happened.

[dylanlila]

i have so much love in my heart for enzo during the math competition because he looks genuinely distressed about these kids not knowing the answer (i mean lila does, but she won't say it in front of alfonso), but he's also completely oblivious to the fact that he is smart for knowing the answer. my point here is i really really really hate how school works </3

[transingthoseformers]

I have a horrible as in evil idea but

Situation where either during the war or after the war at some point Optimus and Megatron become gladiators pitted against each other again and again on an alien planet

They may have been willing to fight of their own accord at first, but at some point it lost it's fire due to the fact that they had to