Javi G in the streets Max Lord in the sheets

Pedro Pascal, Cinephile, Bookish type, History Buff, major lover of Vintage. 30's she/her/hers

[nobie]

its the ✨hands✨for me

[iamladyp]

[kokoluwie]

˚✧˖°.‎ꫂ᭪݁.✦ ݁˖

[iamladyp]

[nicolethered]

Pedro Pascal as Javi Guttierez in The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent (2022)

Bonus

[kokoluwie]

Another Quiz.

Yup. I made another.... It's better this time, I hope. Cheating is encouraged. EH—

Please take the result with a grain of salt. Have fun! :)

Lowkey wanted Clint but I kept getting Joel lol. Not complaining 😌

npt (sorry for bothering again): @cozymochaa @missadangel @sawymredfox @milla-frenchy @joelmillerspnk @aurorawritestoescape @fullmoonlovestuff @shadowqueen2024 @maggiemayhemnj @awkwardpaws @half-moon16 @bergamote-catsandbooks @savedyounine @mcthsman @rosharanfiction @daltoncharm @petalsinblood @broad-shouldrs and anyone who'd like to play! Pleaseee tag me if you play. I'd love to see your result! 💕

[aurorawritestoescape]

@kokoluwie is spoiling us🥰😍 Another fun quiz! Thank you for tagging me, loves @milla-frenchy @time-for-my-weekly-spanking @shadowqueen2024 and Koko ♥️

YAY!! Sounds like a perfect vacation!🤑🛍️😆 Thank you, Javi😘😘😘

Npt💞 @simpingforjoel @604to647 @megangovier @iamladyp @magpiepills @undutchable11 @bergamote-catsandbooks @gutter-noise @alwaysmicado @tateypots @whocaresstillthelouvre and you🫵

I’m late to this so I’m sorry if you’ve done it already

[iamladyp]

Wait the last post was for the first quizz @aurorawritestoescape thank you! 💞...took the second one also!!

[kokoluwie]

Another Quiz.

Yup. I made another.... It's better this time, I hope. Cheating is encouraged. EH—

Please take the result with a grain of salt. Have fun! :)

Lowkey wanted Clint but I kept getting Joel lol. Not complaining 😌

npt (sorry for bothering again): @cozymochaa @missadangel @sawymredfox @milla-frenchy @joelmillerspnk @aurorawritestoescape @fullmoonlovestuff @shadowqueen2024 @maggiemayhemnj @awkwardpaws @half-moon16 @bergamote-catsandbooks @savedyounine @mcthsman @rosharanfiction @daltoncharm @petalsinblood @broad-shouldrs and anyone who'd like to play! Pleaseee tag me if you play. I'd love to see your result! 💕

[aurorawritestoescape]

@kokoluwie is spoiling us🥰😍 Another fun quiz! Thank you for tagging me, loves @milla-frenchy @time-for-my-weekly-spanking @shadowqueen2024 and Koko ♥️

YAY!! Sounds like a perfect vacation!🤑🛍️😆 Thank you, Javi😘😘😘

Npt💞 @simpingforjoel @604to647 @megangovier @iamladyp @magpiepills @undutchable11 @bergamote-catsandbooks @gutter-noise @alwaysmicado @tateypots @whocaresstillthelouvre and you🫵

I’m late to this so I’m sorry if you’ve done it already

[iamladyp]

I got Marcusssss! 💞💞💞💞 Thank you for the tag @aurorawritestoescape 🫶 You can try the quiz if you want: @jedi-in-crocs @jazzy11scorpio @kedsandtubesocks @greenwitchfromthewoods

[iamladyp]

Hello everyone! I wrote a small piece as my first story posted here. I hope you enjoy it. 💖🫶 Please be kind. Tagging some blogs I like @punkshort @kedsandtubesocks @aurorawritestoescape @auteurdelabre @missadangel @greenwitchfromthewoods @juletheghoul @jedi-in-crocs

Helping hands -

Calming Pedro through an anxiety attack.

Pedroxf!reader ; fluff.

The anxiety hit Pedro like an unexpected storm, the kind that makes the room feel smaller and the air too thin. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands trembling, eyes fixed on nothing at all. That’s when I wrapped my arms around him from behind, just like I’d done so many times over the last two years—soft, steady, familiar.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, pressing my cheek against his shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

Pedro leaned back into me, like his body already knew it was safe before his mind could catch up. I guided his breathing with mine, slow and patient, counting softly until the tension in his chest began to loosen. My fingers traced little circles on his arm, warm and grounding, a quiet reminder that he wasn’t alone—not now, not ever.

We ended up curled together under the blanket, his head tucked under my chin, my heartbeat setting the rhythm for both of us. I kissed his hair, then his temple, each kiss a promise built from two years of shared mornings, late-night talks, silly laughs, and love that had grown deep and unshakeable.

“I’m here,” I told him again, smiling even though he couldn’t see it. “Through every storm.”

Pedro sighed, a real one this time, the kind that means the worst has passed. His hand found mine and squeezed gently, gratitude and love wrapped into one simple touch. And in that quiet, cuddly moment, with the world finally slowing down, it felt so clear—this is what love looks like. Not just the happy days, but the gentle holding together when everything feels like too much.

And we stayed like that, wrapped in warmth, bubbles of soft laughter returning, hearts calm again—together, just like always.

#pedropascal #newfic #pedropascalfanfiction #pedroxyou #joel miller #Harry Castillo #Marcus Acacius

[auteurdelabre]

Hiii! I'm so glad you're back....i've been an anonymous reader for some time but if you still do the fic game please can you try "pin me to the wall" with Harry or whoever you want 💗🎀 thx!

Thank you for reading my work!

The guy who came to my head for this was Dave York - I hope you enjoy it! I didn't have time to beta it! warning: involves mentions of violence

Bruno Lutz lays in a puddle of his own blood, a gunshot wound between hazel eyes that will remain forever unseeing. 

The target is dead. 

And since he's the one you were hired to kill, this should please you. 

However, Bruno's not dead from the weapon at your side. And judging by the way the blood is still spreading out from the back of his head, the actual killer is likely still in the house. 

It's only a few steps back out the basement and you move quickly, gun raised in front of you. 

"Stop right there, don't move." 

You pause mid-step to the stairs in front of you, a trickle of sweat running a line down your spine. You hear the shuffle of boots behind you, close enough to touch. He must've been hiding in the shadows when you arrived. 

"This was my target," you snap at the unseen man. 

"Too slow," the familiar male voice edges on quiet amusement. "Drop your weapon."'

You hold your breath and can hear the metallic click of his guns safety. 

"Unload it first." 

Your weapon is dropped at your feet seconds later, the chamber empty, bullets dropped like raindrops on the cement floor of the house.  

"Easy," you murmur. "I'm not here to start shit." 

Despite the man's previous warning you turn slowly, eyes cast over your shoulder to see the figure standing across from you.

The tall man across from you is dressed head to toe in black, a midnight balaclava over his head. Only his dark, baleful eyes can be seen. 

But that's more than enough for you because you'd recognize those eyes anywhere. They've been staring out at you from the news on television for months. 

You turn around to fully face him now, movements more relaxed, ignoring the gun he holds aimed at your chest. 

"Nice to finally meet you, York."

If you had any doubts that its Dave York under that mask, all are erased when you see the agents eyes shutter. Briefly, but clear. 

You attempt to step closer to him, curious to see those dark brown eyes up close. The gun shifts to point between your eyes. 

"Don't move." 

"C'mon Dave, you know I'm not packing anything else." 

"I'm not Dave so drop that shit."

The two of you have played this cat and mouse game for years. You steal money from important people, you kill when you have to, and the CIA agents stand around with thumbs up their asses, confused as to how you do it. 

When Dave York got assigned to your cases he came very close. Too close a few times. You loved seeing him in the news though. Thought he was handsome in a clean-cut follow the orders kind of way. 

He never knew you of course. You were the ghost he always felt was just out of reach. 

"There's no cameras here," you tell him nonchalantly. "You can take off that stupid mask." 

Dave remains still, his dark eyes burning a hole into yours. 

"Suit yourself," you say with a shrug. 

"You're her aren't you?" He asks huskily, those same dark days scanning your face. "From the Lisbon take down."

"I'm not admitting anything," you purr. "Not until you take that stupid mask off." 

His stare feels heavy and oppressive as he debates this before giving a small growl of irritation. You watch as he yanks the balaclava from his head without ever lowering his gun. 

His dark hair sticks up at the back, stone-faced as he shoves it into his back pocket. Despite the glare he shoots at you your body tingles because he's even better looking in real life.

"So what brings you to Bruno's?" You ask, still casual. "Working undercover?"

"Answer my question."'

You make a pouting expression. "You're no fun." 

Dave doesn't say anything, he just glares. You take a closer look at his outfit. It's not the tactical CIA uniform you've seen on him before. 

"Yes, David. It's me. The woman you've been chasing for almost three years." You feel frustration building. "So what? You're going to frame me for the one murder i didn't commit? The bullets won't match. It appears that Bruno here was killed by a Beretta M9A1. You know me. I always work with a VP9."

When you stare down the barrel of his gun, the wheels in your head start spinning. He's holding a  Beretta M9A1.

Your amusement dies.

"Are you the new talent that's been underbidding us?"

Now he shows a flicker of emotion: Smug delight.

"They weren't paying you big enough at the CIA?" you say bitterly. "Had to go private? Needed to buy a big place in the suburbs for the family?"

He's quiet again, assessing you. Your eyes move back to his steady hand holding the weapon, a slow smirk crossing your lips. 

"No more wedding band. What happened York? Wife finally find out you're actually married to the job?"

This clearly hits him where it hurts. He gives a rough snarl before he jerks towards you, long fingers wrapping around your throat. He pushes forward and pins you there against the wall with his hips and hand.  

"Shut the fuck up."

You've only seen Dave York as the Golden Boy, the CIA agent hell-bent on serving his government and doing good for the world. But this creature in front of you is un-tethered and harsh. His jaw feathers as he grits his teeth. You're not surprised to feel arousal skitter around your belly. 

"I have to say you're much sexier in real life, Dave." 

Dave falters slightly, his fingers loosening a fraction at your words. 

"You've taken out a lot of high players," you observe. "Good guys. The kind you used to defend."

He sneers. "Yeah, well, that was before." 

"Before what?"

"Before I figured out that bad people run things, so why am I killing myself trying to be good?"

You cock your head, noticing that his fingers have gone fairly limp around your throat. He's not actually trying to hurt you. He's playing with you. 

Most telling of all however, is that he doesn't move back from you. Doesn't give distance. If anything his face is a little closer to yours. 

"You're a new man, it seems. New job, new life." You inhale slowly, eyes on his plump mouth. "That means you don't have to do things the same."

His brows furrow. "Meaning?" 

His hand is like a loose collar around your throat. Decorative at this point. He's so close and he smells delicious, warm and smoky. You shouldn't be this turned on, but fear and lust are strange bedfellows. 

"If you're going bad, Dave, why not go all the way?" 

He's still pressed up against you, but now the tension feels palpable because you jut out your hips a little, rolling them ever so slightly against his groin. 

"We could work together," you whisper up at him, lashes fluttering. "Partners."

"Why would I do that? I've been doing fine on my own."

"Because I think you're lonely."

He scoffs, but you don't miss the flicker of uncertainty that flashes over his face. He makes a soft nose in the back of his throat when your face moves a little closer to his. 

"If you have been the one underbidding us you've been doing a helluva lot of work these last months. Barely enough time to catch your breath let alone have a life." Your mouth is inches from his now. "So yeah, I think you're lonely, York. I know, because I'm lonely too." 

You feel how his hips press a little firmer against yours and bite back a smirk when you feel his cock start to stir. 

"Partners also get certain benefits," you say coyly.

His thumb is rubbing along your clavicle, his eyes growing unfocused. His eyes have dipped to the swell of your chest, voice husky. His chest presses to yours and any hint of reluctance slips from him. 

"Like what?"

"I think you know, Dave," you coo. "It's why you're hard right now." 

You feel him there practically throbbing between your legs where he's been rutting against you. He grimaces, about to back away in embarrassment.

"No," you say as you grab him by the collar. You drag his lips to yours, relishing in the small groan he exhales into your mouth. He's caging you in, but it doesn't feel intimidating like before, now it's the movement of a man who knows what he wants. 

He kisses you thoroughly, the two of you immune to the dangers that wait around every corner. You two should be preparing to leave, but you can't stop kissing him.

"Partners huh," he muses, still pinning you against the wall when your mouths finally part.  

"Partners," you affirm, grinning back at him when he flashes you a charming smile. His fingers come to the button of your jeans. 

"When do we start?" 

[iamladyp]

Thank you @auteurdelabre 🫶💖

[kedsandtubesocks]

cosmic love

Marcus Acacius x F!Reader x Marcus Pike

summary: a missing statue, a handsome ancient roman general, an equally handsome museum visitor - and you caught in the magical (and wonderful) mess of it all

tags & warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI, MAJOR GLADIATOR 2 SPOILERS. time travel AU, magic elements, pining & yearning, fluff but with touches of angst, implied age gap (Acacius being older than both reader & Marcus), light use of gendered language, bi!Marcus Acacius & bi!Marcus Pike, brief mention of death & existential questioning, spicy themes, smut (threesome, m!oral, one moment of spitting) M/M/F & M/M dynamics, polyamorous exploration that leads to eventual poly relationship, no use of y/n

word count: 7.5k

a/n: I’m sorry I blame the gladiator statue pics we got & yeah now here we are lmao, this fic literally wouldn’t be here without @pedgito & @perotovar - i can’t thank you two enough for all the help i love y’all tremendously, also a sweet special tag for @morallyinept ily too… And lastly - thank you for reading, you’re what makes this so special and magical ♡

The statue that arrived with the newly updated Roman exhibition at your museum has gained attention.

As a guide you enjoy seeing all the new faces here to check out the freshly opened installation. The heightened foot traffic has kept you and your co-workers busy, but it’s been a nice welcome.

Your eyes drift to the statue now.

General Marcus Acacius stands slightly weathered yet still commanding in his bronze glory, towering among the room with all the grace a powerful Roman Army commander would be.

You learned he conquered countless territories and countries in the name of the Ancient Roman Empire. Eventually though, he was caught in a conspiracy to overthrow the ruling emperors and died within the eyes of the coliseum, the whisper of a gladiator’s death.

Now you readily explain this all to tour groups like the one you currently guide.

“Oh, he’s cute.” One of the elementary school girls currently giggles to her friend. The other school children gasp around her, teasing her.

“It’s okay. He is pretty handsome, isn’t he?” You reassure her. The girl seems bashful but relieved at your agreement.

It wasn’t just you. A local internet influencer stopped by and even made a video about the statue being her dream guy.

Even as a statue, the General is eye-catching.

The bronze figure captured his likeness bewitchingly detailing the soft curls of his hair, a lovely sharp nose, mountainous strong broad shoulders, and a pensive stare looking out to a distant horizon. He’s a man of unwavering beauty.

You constantly want to smack yourself for being wistful over a piece of art.

“He’s definitely the most attractive statue I’ve seen.” A familiar smooth sweet voice melts into the room’s quiet softness making your heart jump.

Approaching you with a molten smile and eyes twinkling in the low museum lights, Marcus doesn’t seem real at times.

A regular visitor, you first met him when he accidentally crashed one of your tours. Wholesomely thoughtful, but also being a charming yet slightly know it all, he was quick to join in on commentary of the paintings. With his Disney prince-like smile and earnest eager energy, you couldn’t dare shoo him away.

Now you happily seek his company.

“He’s become like a hot new celebrity here.” Joking, you nudge towards the General’s striking figure.

“I can see why.” Marcus whistles low. “Like look at those shoulders.”

You snicker as a bubbling fondness swells in you.

“He unfortunately died a tragic death.” Marcus comments, cloudy and mournful.

“Yeah, I heard. That means this guy is a bad boy.” You nod.

Marcus snickers at your comment then playfully nudges you with his elbow.

Later, all your co-workers beg you to ask him out to coffee.

“He’s totally got the hots for you!” Your favorite co worker often tells you, but you wave her off.

Marcus is just sweet. He’s kind and considerate, engaging to all the workers here. Besides, you don’t want to assume he possibly likes you and maybe ruin the precious friendship you have with him.

However, your favorite coworker shows up a few days later with a solution for your stale love life.

With a cheeky bright grin, she hands you the cutest pink velvet pouch in the break room.

“It’s called a love wish tea.” She declares.

She grabbed a pack of them at the local occult shop after the lovely witch who owned the place swore it worked.

“It calls in your heart’s desires and hey, it worked for me! That’s why I still have a pack left over!” She proudly recommends.

You roll your eyes but appreciate the gift.

Shoving it into your bag, you don’t give it much thought.

Then the cooler cozier weather settles in, the perfect time for museum dates. Strolling along the floors keeping a watch on everyone it’s hard not to notice the intake of couples. Some are intertwined beside each other staring fondly at a painting together, while others happily take photos of the other being silly.

A taste of loneliness fills you, but gently you sweep it away focusing back on work. Especially since tonight you’ll be locking up.

Already craving some extra caffeine, you glare seeing the break room depleted of any sweet salvation.

The small velvet pink bag in your bag immediately comes to mind. And at this point you think, why not. it will at least keep you awake.

Immediately out of the pouch the tea bag releases a soothing smell, a rich floral blending with delicate touches of a fruit scent, possibly pomegranate. You’re now excited just to taste it, love wish or not.

The tea steeps in your tumbler cup allowing a faint rose color to float into your water. Of course the tea is pretty too.

And the taste? Rich, lovely and warm, like a romantic valentine-like themed drink. It doesn’t reward you with a sensation of being in love, but instead you feel at peace.

After a few sips, you return to the floor.

There, Marcus sits on one of the benches in the Roman exhibition.

Curled over a leather sketchbook, he’s every bit the personification of a scholarly beautiful artist straight out of a romance novel. His face glanced up then back down to his sketch. Diligent concentration paints over his gorgeous face.

Cautious, yet eager, you approach.

He’s sketching a portrait of the General. The sharp edges of the charcoal, the smudges meant to mimic shadows, along with capturing the striking slopes of the General’s features - it’s fantastic.

“You’re amazing!”

Your compliment causes him to jolt slightly spooked, and you rapidly apologize. Once he catches sight of you, Marcus sighs with a dreamy relieved sleepy grin.

“Just sketching, nothing too crazy.”

You take a seat besides him on the bench.

“You captured his likeness so well already.” You’re in awe at the sketch.

Marcus laughs a bit nervously. It’s hard trying not to swoon at the light rose blush coloring his cheeks. He’s stunning.

“I bet General Acacius would be flattered.” You grin then glance back to the statue.

Marcus turns to follow your sight.

“Nah, he strikes me as a big relief fan.” Marcus comments thoughtfully.

The bad art joke isn’t lost on you, and you snicker beside him. Among the giggles you catch Marcus staring at you, the softest boyish grin tugging his lips.

The world melts into a splendid focus all on him.

This isn’t good. You can’t be thinking about possibly leaning in to kiss cute visitors while you’re still on the clock.

“Hey… so I’ve been meaning to ask if maybe we could-”

His phone ringing cuts Marcus off causing you to shoot up from the bench. Jumping on the call, Marcus seems apologetic and almost sad as you wave him bye to him.

Closing time approaches. You and your co-workers do one final look around the rooms. Marcus is nowhere to be found.

The Roman exhibition now sits sleepily still.

The dim glow coats the general’s statue, a glistening chopper. Even with the chips and weathering of time, he stands glorious as you stroll closer.

He really must have been something fierce for the empire to immortalize him in such grand fashion.

“You must’ve been a pretty amazing man.” You mutter mainly to yourself, gently touching the base of the elevated display platform he rests upon.

You wish him a good night and head home. You try not to think of stunning statues or cute museum visitors.

Next morning you’re woken up by a call from work, a frantic one.

“The fucking hot ass statue is missing.” Your co-worker hisses.

You don’t believe it till you see it.

But you’re knocked breathless at the sight.

General Marcus Acacius is missing. The once grand presence he added to the room is absent, vanished, as if plucked from the air itself.

It’s almost unnerving to see the once elevated space now hauntingly vacant.

Chaos brews humming all around. Copes scurry around everywhere, and plenty of people stand outside curious to what’s going on. A controlled whirlwind fills your museum. Various officers keep the scene roped off.

The museum decides to close for the rest of the week to let the police handle as much as they can. You adore the museum truly, but there’s one spot you love the most. Right by the break room leading from various different doors is an outdoor courtyard. It’s become a place of solace.

The bubbling dread has you stepping out here one more time. The sky above looms with a cold front approaching and casts a somber shadow over the space even more.

The shrubs rustle off the side among the thick greenery, and you figure it’s a bird.

“It’s you.” Until a new voice speaks to you. Rich, heavily accented and smooth, it startles you.

You wonder if you’re imagining things.

The man is dressed in Roman attire, elaborate white armor adorned with ornate gold pieces. Glorious graying curls frame his ethereal aged face.

How did a cosplayer manage to sneak in?

He stares so directly at you it frightens you a bit.

“You’re the one who’s voice I heard…” he continues to speak. “It was like I was asleep, drifting away. Then you woke me.”

“Sir, how did you manage to get in here?” You ask, trying to stay as calm as you can.

“I do not know. I simply woke and found myself in this strange place.” He explains with a furrowed brow.

You wonder…is this a strange bit the museum is maybe trying to pull off, and they didn’t tell you.

He steps forward now, and instinctively you walk back cautious. The man must take in your reaction because his face, his handsome face that now looks vaguely familiar, frowns. He holds his hands up defensively.

“I mean no harm. I just need to know what happened to me.”

Someone calls out your name, sounds like your boss. “Come on let’s head out.”

The stranger repeats it and how smooth his voice is, your name rolls off his tongue.

“I am General Marcus Acacius, and I am in need of your assistance.”

That makes your brain scratch.

“Wait, what?” You turn to him confused. “What did you say your name was again?”

He repeats it firmer.

Marcus Acacius.

As in… General Marcus Acacius.

There’s no way.

“Oh, so you’re an actor.” You deadpan.

“I…am confused? I’m no performer. I promise you that.” He almost sounds huffy.

You gotta give him credit. The guy stays in character pretty well.

“You shouldn’t be here, actor or not.” You tell him, heading back inside. Of course this man follows you in.

At the sight of the glass door and the movement of it, he pauses stunned, like he can’t process it. You almost want to laugh.

“You’re pretty good, even though you say you’re not an actor.” You tease.

He frowns hard not enjoying that.

“Either tell me what is going on or I will find a man who will.” He snaps loud and your eyes go wide.

His memorizing face scrunches up in frustration. Dark amber eyes are coated in fierce anger.

“I wake up in a strange place filled with artifacts and see people dressed strange. What is going on?” His voice rises confused, panicking.

Either he’s the most amazing actor ever or…

No.

It can’t be.

Too many thoughts swirl in your head like angry bees trying to make your brain explode.

You need a minute. So you grab the mystery man’s arm, practically dragging him to follow you.

“Excuse you? Where are you taking me?” He demands.

“Somewhere safe.” You half lie.

Unfortunately your boss stops you. His worried eyes catch sight of the man in the armor. You’re quick to explain he’s an actor, upset about the missing statue.

“I am not a-”

You shush the strange man harshly. Your boss, hesitant and worried, surveys him.

“He shouldn’t be here.” Your boss says firm.

“Yup, and I was just showing him the way out.” You happily explain.

Thankfully your boss gets called away, and you make your escape.

“Are you abducting me?” He demands harder.

“Look, I’m the only one here who might be able to help you.” You hiss back.

“I am the commanding General of the Roman armies.” His voice blooms stronger when you reach the lobby. “I will find my way around.”

You swallow hard. A small but chaotic idea quickly jumps into your mind, and you decide to put it into action.

So, you hold the exit door open for him. The man nods to you, then strolls out. You follow him.

The towering skyscrapers, the rush of the cars, the stretching concrete roads, it becomes an overwhelming sight while the man whips his face around eyes wide and in shock. His face falls, aghast and disoriented.

That unrealistic conclusion you thought of - you think it might not be so realistic. Because the man turns to you wearing petrified horror, terrified confusion of a man in an unknown world that no actor could truly capture.

Reality smacks into you like a bag of nails.

This man is truly the great General Marcus Acacius.

The missing statue now full man summoned to life.

Someone yells your name.

Your heart drops. Of course Marcus arrives at the worst time. He jogs up to you dressed in what looks like a gym outfit.

“I heard about the statue.” He says worried then his eyes immediately grow cloudy and confused as he catches sight of the strange Roman dressed man.

“Is he… a friend of yours?” Marcus asks hesitantly.

“It’s complicated.” You blurt, panicked.

General Acacius stands still very stunned trying to take this new modern world in. Stumbling, he returns to your side, clutching your arm like you’re the only one who can steady him.

“I…” Acacius begins then stops mid word, still trying to process a reply. Until he catches sight of Marcus.

“You,” The man surveys Marcus with narrowing eyes. “You seem familiar as well.”

This is getting out of hand.

“Okay time to go.” You rapidly try diffusing the situation, moving General Acacius away from Marcus.

“Wait, what’s going on?” Marcus questions, persistently following behind while you head to the parking lot.

You scramble out a lie that the strange man is an old friend you ran into who just came back from a play.

“I told you, I’m no performer.” Acacius insists still. You also discover he’s built like a wall and trying to wrangle him into the car proves to be Herculean.

Swiftly, Marcus firmly snaps out your name. His tone is different, urgent and enforcing. It turns you into a statue yourself.

Comedically, you’re practically halfway shoving Acacius into the car but now stand frozen. He notices the shift in tension quickly.

“Are you frightened of him?” Acacius mutters concern, surprisingly concerned. “Because I can dispose of this man.”

You shake your head no.

Swallowing hard, you finally look Marcus dead in the eyes.

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.” You admit.

“Try me.” Marcus rebuffs, serious as steel.

So you sigh, what more do you have to lose now?

“General, can you please tell him who you are.” You then allow Acacius to speak for himself.

The ancient Roman clears his throat and announces his full title and name. The younger and modern Marcus’s face twists confused with a hint of concern.

Suddenly his eyes go wide. He catches on fast, figures it out quicker than you did that’s for sure.

This cute casual museum visitor you have a slight crush on is now your accomplice and partner in crime.

At least…now you don't have to deal with an ancient Roman General being brought back to life from stone alone.

— °˖➴ —

Marcus’s apartment is lush and cozy, filled with so many books and records. The warm walls, sleek modern design, make your place feel like a hole in the wall. Having a roommate, you couldn’t just bring home a very confused man out of time. So thankfully Marcus offered his home.

Now you’ve practically been living here with General Acacius trying to figure out what happened.

Acacius takes things rather well, almost in stride. Fitting for a general that explored new territories and had to face the unknown chaos of war.

The fridge fascinates him the most. You had to stop yourself from laughing seeing him open and close the refrigerator door like a child wondering if the food inside would disappear.

Marcus has a vice for candy, specifically sour ones. Seeing General Acacius try one and the disgusted face of twisted torture is a memory you’ve replayed over multiple times.

But unfortunately no one can figure out what brought the statue to life and him here.

“I’m a man. Not a statue.” The roman general clarifies.

“You are now, but we gotta figure out why.” You sigh exhausted while Marcus readies breakfast for everyone.

He’s been an incredible host. It’s been hard not lingering on how domestic and warm he is within his own space.

Especially when there’s also an archaic man looking just as handsome walking around in a tight white t shirt Marcus lent him.

Surrounded by two unbelievably gorgeous men has been a double edged sword, a blessing and curse.

General Acacius reminds you of a mountain, ever powerful, sturdy and unwavering with the change of seasons. Yet there’s still an open vulnerability to him. You’ve seen it in how grateful he’s been and how eagerly he’s tried absorbing all about this new world.

Whereas Marcus reminds you of a river, beautifully flowing, always adaptable. But he surprises you with how direct and firm he’s been, almost protective in keeping you and Acacius safe.

You also don’t miss the way Marcus’s eyes sometimes flicker to sneak a glance at the older General. You can’t blame him.

Acacius fills out modern clothes sinfully. Watching him navigate everything with a certain poised grace is attractive. While Marcus has become endearing and patient, incredibly welcoming to this new hiccup in his life. You haven't felt this comfortable with someone in so long.

Truly a river and mountain now exist in your life, and you want to stay in their atmosphere more and more.

But you can’t get tangled in the budding emotions growing for these men.

You need to figure out how to help Acacius.

“Once I get back to the office, I’m hoping I can try to find something that could maybe help.” Marcus clarifies while grabbing his work bag.

You’ve learned much about him these past few days. Like he enjoys a good run, used to be a swimmer, has a soft spot for strays, surprisingly loves football -

Also that he’s a well known FBI agent.

You realized you never once asked what he did for work, and you’ve known him for months.

“You have feelings for that man.” Acacius announces once it’s you and him alone in the apartment. You almost spit out your drink.

“We’re friends, that’s all.” You huff.

This Marcus doesn’t seem to believe you, and gives you a very modern dry eyed side glare that makes you roll your eyes.

“I’ve seen the way he watches you, the look of a man in love.” Acacius continues.

“Well I see the way he stares at you too, pal.” You reply back before you can even realize what you said.

Your words do their job stunning the general.

“He is too young for an old man like me.” Acacius rapidly fires back.

“You’re not that old.” You clarify. “If anything you’re distinguished, mature.”

“You are too kind, dear lady.” He chuckles.

You ignore how fast warmth spreads through you a dangerous wildfire just hearing him.

Your phone ringing makes poor Acacius jump. Though, it’s progress from the confused shout he used to yell whenever the phones rang.

Your boss explains that unfortunately the museum will have to stay closed the rest of the month for further investigations, and everyone’s information has been sent in to check for any suspicious activities.

It sounded serious.

Dead serious because after that phone call, you get called by the police department to head in for a few questions.

You have nothing to hide, except you did.

Because in theory you technically did and didn’t steal the statue. You just know the cops wouldn’t take your explanation.

The interrogation room you sit in is coated in a bleak serious air making you fidget worried. This is also the first time you left General Acacius alone at the apartment and that worry picks at you.

Then two officers walk in. One an older distinguished woman who gives you a nod then the other… a rather striking man.

Hawkish nose, clean shaven face, kind eyes, he smiles soft at you.

Marcus.

The agent that walked in is Marcus.

You try not to stare, but it’s hard. Dressed in an official suit and tie, the badge he wears, he sits across for you a striking professional handsome agent.

The woman introduces herself as one of the head local detectives of the case and the man accompanying her is from the FBI, specifically the head of the art crimes division.

Marcus wasn’t just an agent but someone that important.

You can’t deny how extra attractive it makes him.

“Agent Marcus Pike.” Polite and sweet he outstretches his arm to shake your hand like you’ve never met him before.

The questions are very basic.

Where were you the last time you saw the statue? Do you remember any recent guest that stopped by that maybe seemed suspicious?

You answer as truthfully and as best as you can, while also hiding the ancient Roman sized man truth away.

“Funny enough,” Agent Pike comments. “It does seem like this statue just seems to have…I don’t know, grown legs and walked out itself.”

You weakly laugh at his joke. You don’t miss the tug of his lips trying not to grin.

You leave the room as if you stepped out of a strange pocket dimension. Then again these past few days have felt strange and disorienting.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were the head of some FBI art division?!” You let Marcus have it when you both return back to his apartment.

“Is that dangerous?” Acacius asks curiously.

“I don’t know.” You sigh.

“No…This is good.” Marcus clarifies. He even picked up apology pastries. General Acacius greedily snags a cheese danish and moans in pure delight once he takes a bite.

It’s hard to ignore how incredibly sexy he sounded.

“It means I can keep looking in my records for any previous instances of situations like this, or if there’s any leads on the case I’ll know.” Marcus patiently explains.

That calms you enough.

Days pass, and Acacius grows restless.

He doesn’t sleep well, snapping at you and Marcus often more. He mourns the loss of a world that’s passed, of a wife he lost. The grief comes in waves. You and Marcus try comforting him, but Acacius reminds you of a caged tiger, restless and fanged. You understand. Being cooped up in a strange home in a strange world must be exhausting.

So Marcus and you agree to have a nice weekend out with him.

General Acacius fidgets in the cozy cream knit sweater that stretches over his broad body, but damn does he look incredible. So does Marcus in his scholarly sleek coat.

This trip also works as another opportunity to do more investigating. The nearby bookstore is the first stop. Acacius gasps seeing the stretch of books.

“Pretty impressive, yeah?” Marcus smirks, and you grin agreeing. He decides to take a look at the art history books here for any information he might have missed.

You unfortunately get side tracked with the many books in front of you and slightly wander away from Acacius when one catches your eyes.

But you quickly find your way back to him.

The elder Marcus stands stunned like a ghost among the classical literature holding a thick encyclopedia.

“I knew of what happened to Rome after you and Pike told me. But seeing the grand colosseum like this… it’s a specter of ruins now.” He mutters while taking in the photo of the ancient landmark.

“I am glad. There should be no need for more death matches.” His voice weighs with the heaviness of centuries past.

You agree, happy he shuts the book and returns it back. You’re about to dive into the Ancient Rome section yourself now until he speaks again.

“What if I am not the same man these books speak of?” The older Marcus questions hollowed.

That stuns you.

“What if the man who died many years ago… is not me?” His voice wavers.

Existential dread looms off him a dark storm growing stronger.

Marcus turns the corner smiling bright. But quickly he immediately notices the shift in atmosphere, and his face falls as he mouths asking what’s wrong.

You let General Acacius speak from the heart.

“What if… I am not me? What if I am not the real Marcus Acacius?”

His face is weighted with fear, raw and open making him appear lost and so small for someone powerful as him.

“I believe it’s you.” You reassure him gentle. “I’m sure Marcus does too. Besides… who says you can’t be the same man?”

There are pieces of yourself that you’ve left with people, even some bits of you have gotten snagged in certain places or tied to certain objects. Who says a piece of Marcus Acacius truly resided in the statue and simply woke up. And if that’s the case, then that means he’s as real as ever.

You explain all of this best as you can to Acacius. Those deep steady eyes of his waver transforming into molten earth. Your hand moves down to squeeze his stronger large warm hand.

He squeezes back tight.

“Besides the man that died is still you too. You’re allowed to be both.” Marcus jumps in with the most tender voice

“That does not sound true.” Acacius mutters.

As modern has he’s slowly become, you think it still might be too hard to explain dimensional or reality theory.

“This philosopher I read about once said something along the lines of, if you think, therefore you are.” Marcus clarifies. “You exist here and now. And sometimes that’s all that matters.”

You realize both you and Marcus slowly have huddled around General Acacius. You on one side and Marcus on the other, barricade to support your General as much as you or Marcus can.

Acacius sighs, watery, taking it all in.

Your heart aches for him. It overwhelms you, causing you to gently rest your head against his shoulder and letting your hand rest on his back.

Marcus also moves closer, placing his hand right besides yours, gingerly touching your hand.

Among the books you and these two rest simply in the stillness of the moment. You feel something hook deep in your chest, a feeling you can’t fully express.

After, Marcus treats everyone to his favorite taco truck. It's infectious seeing Acacius’s spirits brighten again. He again moans delicious when he takes his first bite. You don’t miss the awkward cough Marcus makes.

But the tacos are amazing and the cooler weather covers everything in a comforting dreamy cloud.

“I want to explore this world as much as I can.” Acacius declares with resolution and shining gilded hope.

So you start bringing the Roman general out with you more.

The museum is still being investigated, so you take the chance to enjoy the days, especially now with Marcus Acacius by your side. He enjoys your smaller apartment, becomes a fan of cooking shows fast.

Marcus and you discovered he isn’t big on sushi but has a notorious sweet tooth. Acacius embraces everything now with more gusto, a vibrant curiosity about many things, especially food. It’s endearing.

General Acacius also proves to be a lovely companion when you go grocery shopping.

“So many spices.” He says in awe in the aisle.

More people arrive and you try maneuvering your cart through the traffic. General Acacius catches on quick. Staying close to you, he places a comforting hand at your lower back and the other against yours in the cart. Shifting his body against yours, he’s a protective shield until you’re out of the thicket.

It sends the wildest hum of sparks throughout your body that persistently stays. Acacius stays firmly beside the rest of the trip.

For a man out of time, he’s open for conversation. The check out worker seems to blatantly ignore you while she happily and very openly flirts with him.

You don’t say much, ignoring the possessive emerald eyed sense of jealousy threatening to rise. He bids the flirty cashier a good day along with an elegant head nod. You keep quiet heading back to the car.

“That woman, she gave me a strange note with numbers on it.” General Acacius comments cautious, almost worried about what they could be.

You almost trip on the way out.

“Her number, she gave you her phone number.” You explain simply.

Of course you have to elaborate what that means and how it’s a modern way of signaling someone is attracted to you.

“Truly?” His handsome aged face scrunches up confused.

“What can I say? In any year you’re a catch.” You try not to sound wistful.

“I’m an old man not from this time. I have nothing worth for anyone to desire me.” Now he sounds dejected, somber and serious.

“Okay, besides being absolutely one of the most gorgeous men ever, you’re kind. Incredibly loyal and brave. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” Earnesty floats off you.

His face drops, your words finally settling within him. The soft streams of grays in his luscious curled hair and rustic beard, the beautiful scars he wears that tell of his victories…

The statue truly was not able to capture the magnetic pull of this man.

Acacius’s eyes flicker across your face. You swear something shimmers in his deep earth eyes. His gaze flickers down for a split moment, as if he’s glancing at your lips.

Then your phone rings with a text, and you sigh.

This precious bubble you’ve been in, this newly woven existence with these two gorgeous men, is one you want to stay in forever. It’s warm, easy, and feels too nice to leave.

But work eventually crashes in.

The museum finally reopens but with the Roman exhibit closed still. The missing art has brought in more foot traffic to the museum. But what surprises you is seeing Marcus at work now while he works. You and him share sweet secret smiles to each other.

Even with work getting busy for you and him, you’ve been texting with Marcus frequently. It’s even been amusing being on the phone with him and Acacius cries out surprised hearing your voice.

Your mind drifts to them again as you daze off a bit at work.

“So, did you ever drink that tea I gave you?” Your favorite coworker asks, interrupting your daydream.

The confusion must be evident on your face.

“Ya know… the sweet love wish tea?” She grins like a pleased cat that’s about to catch a canary.

An abrupt realization barrels right into you, a fierce horned bull almost knocking you out at the knees. You can’t believe a possible magical tea maybe brought a statue to life. But with that statue now a very real ancient Roman man you’ve been harboring - anything is possible now.

“Can you tell me where the shop is that you got it?” You rapidly ask her.

Your next day off you head down there immediately, not even taking either of your Marcus boys.

The sweetest shop owner greets you warm and welcoming. You compliment her lovely silvery lavender hair.

“Oh it’s to hide the grays.” She winks, and you grin.

But the nervousness rises because you don’t even know how to approach the question you have.

“Something seems to be bothering you.” Of course she notices but speaks with a gentle tone.

Your heavy sigh must say it all. Very sweetly she pulls out a stool by the register and settles in waiting to hear your story.

Even with her welcoming smile, the hesitation pulls at you. But you manage to gently explain what happened without revealing the dizzying truth.

“So I drank the love wish tea. And something… someone I never imagined would come into my life did. So now I don’t know if there’s a way I could probably send him back to what, to where, he was.” You tell her.

The shop owner hums in deep thought, crossing her hands over her chest nodding.

“Is it a ghost? Did you call in a spirit? Are you in love with a ghost?” She asks flat out without hesitation, and you almost laugh.

She’s half right in a way.

“I’m thinking…possibly the one thing that came to mind that I would do first is to do an unbinding spell. Whatever is keeping this man here, the separation of that would be what sends him back.” She says jumping off her chair, waving at you to follow her through the shop.

You quickly scurry behind her.

Grabbing a pack of two candles, the ritual she describes is simple enough. Tying a string around the two candles, lighting them until they burn, which in the process would burn the thread, theoretically severing the tie of Acacius to this world.

“And you said it was the love wish tea you drank, yes?”

You nod, and she nods back in understanding.

“What that tea is meant to do is call in your heart’s desires, simply allow the universe to bring whatever magic it seems fit to your life…But it also isn’t doing it forcefully.” She explains.

The tea is known to work because it calls in someone who desires the same thing you do, almost like a little nudge in the matchmaking department, a magic magnet.

“It works because someone else is also receptive. But of course, there is no need to stay with whoever is brought to you.”

Her words sink into a deep corner of your heart. You wonder if that meant Marcus Acacius longed for a better future, and it’s why the tea worked on him.

Thanking her graciously, you take the candles and a few cute stickers she has by the counter.

“I hope everything works out for you, gorgeous.” Her warm smile becomes a comforting hug.

You hope so too.

But the way your stomach twists, a part of you realizes… what if you don’t want Marcus Acacius to leave?

It’s selfish - but you want this trio of you, him and Marcus Pike, to last as long as it possibly can.

Driving to Marcus’s apartment, guilt and selfishness fight each other tooth and nail. You don’t know if this unbinding spell would work, but it would be a start.

With the spare key Marcus gave you, you let yourself in.

There on the couch you catch the quickest glimpse of both men heavily making out with the elder Marcus greedily holding onto Agent Pike’s sharp jaw. You wonder if maybe you’re seeing things, but the image knocks you breathless.

The younger and modern Marcus, who halfway was on the elder General’s lap immediately, bolts away as if electrocuted.

On the table, you spot two glasses of wine.

They both stare at you, caught red handed. Immediately though, you scramble out apologies.

“I should have called and-”

Marcus says your name. “It’s.. it’s okay.”

You feel so foolish right now. You didn’t even think that they had a thing, and that you were possibly the third wheel.

“I can leave. I totally understand.” You really do.

“No.” Acacius orders, saying your name, firmly shaking his head as he rises. His eyes rusted steel swords that pin you to where you stand.

“This started because of you.” He adds.

Wait.

Because of you?

“Wait, are you guys drunk?” You even voice your confusion.

Both Marcus men shake their heads no.

“We were just talking about you, about us.” The younger Marcus explains.

“And it took us some time but we both desire each other. And we both desire you.” General Acacius simply interjects, and Marcus coughs stunned.

You wonder if you’re the one who’s been brought to life in another time.

“Honey, please don’t feel pressured if you don’t feel the same.” Marcus, wonderful Marcus Pike, ever understanding and eternally good.

“I’ve liked you for so long. Even tried to ask you out a couple of times, just got a bit of cold feet. It just unfortunately took an ancient Roman to get me to finally say something.” He laughs weakly, boyishly nervous.

He’s liked you all this time.

You don’t say anything, don’t think there’s any words you can say just yet. Simply the emotions overtake you.

You head first to the younger Marcus and kiss him with a fierce tug at his shirt. He happily pulls you into him and sighs into your lips.

A soft but large hand runs up your back, and the sensation makes your body bloom.

“You both are so beautiful.” The older Marcus mutters dripping with adoration.

With a squeeze to Marcus’s shoulder and one final soft kiss, you pull away then melt into the general’s waiting arms. His mustache tickles you as his lips kiss yours, but it’s divine.

Their hands all over you touch every inch they can. You’ve never felt this desired, never been the epicenter of affection and passion like this before. You just as eagerly try grabbing at either man with as much clawed possession as you can.

They’re both yours now after all.

Tumbling into the bedroom it’s like something out of a dream, blissful and deliciously decadent, but so real with how heated your body feels.

Both men start kissing your exposed skin, with one licking at your neck from behind and the other readily nipping at your exposed chest. Your mind melts in bliss.

“Marcus,” you sigh.

You’re rewarded with two beautiful groans, different in tones it becomes a symphony you want to hear forever.

In the blurry of haze, the sticky syrupy desire, you and the younger Marcus follow each other peppering multiple kisses on Acacius’s chest as he falls onto the bed.

You and the modern Marcus work together, conquering the beautiful golden exposed landscape of Marcus Acacius’s chest. You tenderly press your lips against the various scars then happily move to kiss the younger Marcus.

The delicious sighs from General Acacius fill the room, a hypnotic soundtrack.

Soon your lips start traveling further down across his body. Your fellow lover follows your trail, kissing and kicking every inch of Acacius. You and Marcus reach his cock twitching in the loose sweatpants Acacius has grown fond of.

“Fuck.” Marcus groans as he drags the older man’s cock out.

Fuck is right. Thick, girthy and dripping already, you already ache to have him inside in any way.

“Both of you are little fiends.” The elder Marcus croaks breathless. Confidence surges in you as you lick across his length, relishing in the taste of his skin.

Marcus’s tongue also licks with you along your other lover’s cock, even moving across your tongue. The louder groans coming from General Acacius only spur you and Marcus on.

Greedily your eyes flicker up towards the towering force of a warrior. The beautiful older man’s eyes blown black, desired drenched galaxies looking down at you and Marcus like prizes he wants to conquer himself.

It makes you dizzy, completely possessed, and you kiss your way down to one of his thick large heavy balls. You tentatively lick. Acacius initially hisses until his voice melts into the loudest primal groan when you start sucking.

Your sweet Marcus immediately follows your lead, dragging his mouth down as well. You and him simply devour Acacius, licking back and forth across your lover’s balls and each other’s mouths.

Marcus quickly starts stroking your lover’s thick cock. It’s heaven being among these two, allowing yourself to get lost in the golden ecstasy.

When Acacius reaches his release you greedily lick up his cum that spilled against his skin, and he groans. Once you sit up, you reach for Marcus’s cum covered hand and begin to lick and suck his fingers clean. It’s then your sweet Marcus that suddenly grabs your mouth with the same hand, pulling your face towards his.

“Don’t swallow baby, I wanna taste.” He mutters with blazed out eyes.

Hearing that you almost come on the spot.

You sit up and slowly allow your spit and the milky cum into Marcus’s waiting mouth.

“Gods above.” The elder Marcus moans carnal.

The rest of the night consumes you in a wanton haze.

Sweaty, exhausted, but floating on a cloud, you sink into the bed with two men barricading you in their arms.

“I’m surprised you were…open to this.” You say to Acacius who chuckles a bit.

“I have loved others before, some included men. One was even a fellow General who died tragically among the same coliseum walls as I once did.” He explains gently.

You kiss his chest softly in understanding.

As you and these two lie curled into one another on Marcus’s lush bed, it’s like a new door has opened.

You and Marcus eagerly ask your General about his days in ancient Rome and his travels across the old world, about the true story of how he got his scar. Ever the steady man, Acacius answers all questions he can.

In the middle of this warm incredible double Marcus sandwich makes you giddy. But Acacius’s deep comforting lull of a voice, Marcus’s soft hands stroking your skin, create a cocoon drawing you to sleep faster than you realize.

A soft kiss comes to the top of your head.

“Rest. We will be here when you wake.”

Nodding through a yawn, you happily kiss them both goodnight. But just before you fall into the depths of sleep, you catch the two talking.

“What… will happen if I do not return to stone?” Acacius speaks first, so low and cautious you wonder if you’re dreaming already.

“I… I guess the statue will remain incomplete, stolen.” Marcus answers truthful but gentle.

A moment passes.

“What if I do not wish to return to stone?” Acacius clarifies.

You hear Marcus inhale sharp.

“I’ve longed for peaceful days away from the brutality of the frontline. And now… it’s here.”

A thick hope shines through the older Marcus’s voice, slipping past your ribs to piece your heart.

Movement shifts the bed, arms reach across for each other and seem to cage around you more.

“You’ll always have the final say. You get to make that choice. Neither of us would ever want to force you or take that away from you.” Marcus’s molten words are coated in pure understanding.

“I wish to stay here… with you and her.” Confidence, solidified resolution, radiate from the General’s voice.

The bed shifts again, and you hear them exchange the softest kiss.

“We’ll have to make sure to tell her in the morning.” The modern Marcus sighs dreamily. His hands again start rubbing your arm soothing, as if he can sense you’re fighting sleep.

“Of course. We must never forget our lady.” The older Marcus agrees.

His words along with a soft kiss to your forehead become the final push that allows sleep to settle.

— °˖➴ —

“So you’re telling me mister head of the art crimes department will be okay with a statue staying stolen and missing forever?” You smirk amused while Marcus drives down the familiar roads.

“Hey it’s no Vemeer’s Concert, but I’ll live with it.” Marcus playfully smirks and shrugs.

The investigation on General Acacius’s missing statue had run cold. There was no indication of a break in or forced exit. From the surveillance tapes, the video recordings simply shimmer, distorted for one moment, and then the statue is gone. As if it vanished into thin air.

Or is simply currently sitting in the back seat of the car taking in the world and power of a motor vehicle.

“You hear that, General? Our boy said you’re not valuable.” You tease.

“I don’t mind and I can agree.” Acacius replies bored, making you laugh. The green sweater he wears compliments him and brings out the streams of grays in his hair. You and Marcus have loved seeing him embrace modern clothing more than ever.

“That’s not what I meant.” Marcus rolls his eyes.

You snicker even more.

The occult shop arrives, and the candles feel lighter than ever in your bag, especially knowing you’re here to return them.

“Seems like you didn’t need these after all.” Your favorite lavender haired shop owner says with a coy smirk. Her eyes stay locked on your men exploring the aisles.

“A two for one deal? I'm definitely advertising that for the tea.” She adds eagerly, and you hide a laugh behind your hand.

If only you could tell her the full truth.

You return to your boys, enjoying the way Acacius seems to be a bit petrified among all of the occult objects.

“Are you sure this witchcraft is safe?” He asks worried, snd Marcus smooths by rubbing his back.

You grin.

Love, affection, might be the strangest but most beautiful magic after all.

[iamladyp]

[cupofzo]

Oh wow.

[punkshort]

Hi! I am reading Swept away for the 5th time and getting back into that island mood! 💗 Just wanted to say hope you're good and i'm excited for the new story! Hugs!

Aww love this! Thank you so much, I'm flattered! ❤️❤️

[inkypaperghosts]

dbf! joel miller trope moments

dbf!Joel Miller when he sees you in a bar getting hit on by some guy and he has to act like he's not totally jealous.

[morbidpetal]

joel miller headcanons <3

• joel doesn’t rush intimacy. ever. letting you get close is something he does slowly, deliberately, like he’s making sure this is real, and safe, before he lets himself settle into it

• physical touch is absolutely his love language, even if he’d never call it that. a hand at your lower back, fingers brushing yours, pulling you just a little closer without saying a word. it’s grounding. protective. constant

• behind closed doors, he’s gentler than people would expect. not because he’s unsure, but because the world is already rough enough. with you, he softens. slower movements, quieter moments, breathing in sync

• he’s a quiet intimacy guy. joel doesn’t talk much, but when he does, it lands. a low "you okay?" a murmured use of your name like it means something sacred. no wasted words

• once he’s in, he’s all in. joel doesn’t do half love or casual closeness. if he lets you stay, it’s long haul energy, even if he never says "forever" out loud

• he craves closeness more than he realizes. falling asleep tangled together, staying in bed longer just because he can. acting like it’s nothing, while it quietly fills a void he’s carried for years

• his protective instincts bleed into intimacy in subtle ways. not controlling, just attentive. always checking in without breaking the moment. a hand on your back, a thumb brushing your hip, making sure you’re okay

• he’s way more affectionate in private than in public. around others he’s reserved, guarded. alone? foreheads touching, hands lingering, soft little laughs you don’t hear often

• domestic intimacy hits him harder than passion ever could. sharing a bed night after night, waking up together, existing in the same space. that’s what really gets him, proof he’s not alone anymore

• he likes familiarity, routine. same safe place, same time of night, same unspoken understanding. it’s comforting, not boring, something he can finally relax into

• acts of service translate everywhere with him. fixing your jacket, warming your hands, quietly cleaning you up afterward without making a big deal out of it. it’s just care

• when things get slow and close, he watches you. real, steady eye contact like he’s memorizing you, just in case the world ever tries to take you away

• he’s understatedly dominant in the softest way. not commanding, not flashy, just a calm presence that makes you feel safe enough to let go and trust him completely

• he sleeps like he’s protecting something precious. closest to the door. arm around you without thinking. even when everything’s quiet, his instincts never fully shut off

[iamladyp]

[rosalie-starfall]

Sarah Paulson as Carrington Lane

All's Fair - Season 1

[punkshort]

🎄Favorite Moments🎄

So this year has been kind of dogshit for many people. But @strang3lov3 recently reminded me that despite the storm, there's always something to be grateful for, no matter how big or small.

I want anyone who sees this to reblog (or send me an ask if you're shy) with the best thing that happened to you this year. Could be anything, there's no rules. Maybe you saw an incredible movie or got a new pet. Maybe you learned how to knit or maybe you got a promotion. I want to read what made people happy and I think it's nice to reflect back on some of the good stuff now and then. It can be very easy to take things for granted (yes, I'm talking to myself here) and maybe this'll help spread a little happiness, I don't know.

I'll go first, and it might be an obvious one for those who follow along here, but beating cancer this summer was kind of the best part of my year.

Send them in! Reblog and add your best moment! I want to see some good shit ❤️

Tagging some friends to help spread this idea around:

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[iamladyp]

@punkshort 💞💞💞

[aurorawritestoescape]

BLAST FROM THE PAST

ex husband!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: to your dismay you run into your hot ex husband at a supermarket parking lot and at first glance it seems that Joel just wants to chat but as you two are sharing memories of the past life, you realize that talking isn’t the only thing on his mind.

Tw: +18, mdni, smut, a touch of angst but we don’t dwell on it, non outbreak au, Joel’s a sexy asshole, mention of Joel x reader x Tommy, mention of mfm, reader is pissed at Joel, implied infidelity, hate fucking, one use of ‘daddy’, public but not caught, f!oral, pussy slapping (1), cum eating, piv, degradation kink, praise kink, swearing.

Word count: 2,8k

A/n: I saw this post by @cupofzo last week, got feral/inspired and wrote this story. Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and helping me when I got stuck💋 Pedro edits in the mb by @/romina’s blog on Pinterest. Dividers by @strangergraphics 💞

MASTERLIST

Fuck!

You duck down behind an open trunk of your car in a supermarket parking lot and quickly push your grocery bags inside. Hopefully Joel hasn’t noticed you. He never noticed shit anyway — your bad mood, your worries, your heartbreak. It’s one of the reasons he’s your ex husband now.

Apparently Joel’s ‘go to’ shopping item hasn’t changed, you think and shake your head, seeing him load packs of beer into his car. You’re frozen on the spot, trying not to attract your ex’s attention, but to your dismay the fucker turns around and heads into your direction.

Shit! You curse under your breath, straighten up and watch him stride towards you with his usual ‘I know I’m hot’ attitude, confidence in every step. They call it ‘Big dick energy’. The worst part is that he really IS that hot. And he IS hung. It’s a pity that such a nice cock is attached to a total prick.

There’s no point in hiding now so you slam the trunk shut and greet the approaching man with the fakest smile you could pull.

“Heyyyy,” you sing in a high pitched voice you know he hates. Not taking his sunglasses off, Joel nods at you, his plush lips spread in a lopsided smile. He’s leisurely chewing a gum and your gaze slides along his scruffy jaw which is flexing in such a sexy way you get mesmerized by the sight. It’s doing something unexplainable to you but you quickly remind yourself who you’re dealing with. It’s Joel. It’s your past. The past that hurt you.

Your pussy gives no fucks though and your panties dumpen exponentially the longer you’re looking at your ex. Ugh! A traitor!

“Good to see you, baby,” Joel smirks, stopping in front of you and shoving his hands in his jeans pockets.

Don’t stare at his forearms, you beg the horny goblin inside you but it’s impossible not to take a peek at them with his sleeves rolled up, so you treat yourself before hastily lifting your gaze up to his covered eyes.

“Can’t say the same,” you throw, not smiling anymore.

Joel sneers and when you try to walk past him he steps to the side, not letting you leave, and coos, his arms open to you,

“Talk to me, beautiful. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“We met at Jessy’s party,” you grumble and he nods,

“Yeah but we barely shared a few words.”

“That's how I like it,” you bite, ready to tell him to fuck off but Joel takes his sunglasses off and stares at you with those puppy eyes of his. They used to work on you months ago. Now… not so much.

“Drop the shit, Joel. I bet you have enough babes to talk to.”

You cross your arms in front of your chest and raise your brow, expecting him to act all innocent, to deny the fact that he’s a total slut. But Joel doesn’t do any of it. Instead he gives you a cheeky smile and changes the topic.

“Whatcha doin’ here, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes.

“What d’you think? Grocery shopping.”

Joel slowly nods, still chewing his gum, not tearing his eyes off you even for a second.

“Me, too. Got some stuff for tonight. Havin’ the boys over.”

Yeah, that would explain all the beer, you think.

You squint your eyes and your lips tighten at the mention of his ‘boys’, a group of his fellow pricks who surely call you a bitch every chance they get.

As if reading your mind Joel says, his head titled,

“They miss you by the way.”

You laugh exaggeratedly,

“Yeah, right!”

Joel shifts his jaw and then steps closer to you. He puts his big hand on your waist between your shirt and your jeans, and your heart skips a beat as you feel his hot palm on your exposed skin there.

“Tommy still talks about that night the three of us had. Remember?”

Joel’s eyes darken, he’s watching you closely, and you hate to give him any reaction but your whole body tingles and your chest starts heaving when images from that drunken night pop into your mind — you’re riding Joel, Tommy's fucking your mouth; they both eating you out, taking their turn to lap at your pussy, their spit mixing on your drenched clit and folds.

Trying to shake off the horny fog in your head, you avert your eyes from Joel and stare at a big supermarket sign.

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, feigning nonchalance. “We were drunk.”

“The next morning we weren’t,” Joel reminds you with a playful smile.

You shift on your feet, an ache in your pussy getting harder to ignore. That lazy morning fuck was great. Waking up between your husband and your brother-in-law, with their arms wrapped around you. Both fighting for your attention, for your holes, they made you come hard on their cocks and tongues. That was the last time you let Tommy join Joel and you in your marital bed. Scared of things getting too complicated you stopped it. Who knew that Joel would ruin it all anyway.

Joel watches you intently, surely knowing that you’re wet now. He could always smell it on you like a shark smells blood in the water. Joel gently squeezes your side and muses,

“We used to have lots of fun.. you and I. Were so damn good together.”

His voice is soft, full of nostalgia and…sadness? Suddenly his tone makes your blood boil and you finally look at him, your eyes fiery again.

“We were. Until you fucked everything up.”

You’re glaring at him and Joel drops his head, his hand leaving your side.

“Yeah… I did.”

He takes a deep sigh and you want to punch him. Your cold eyes are set on your ex and your wounded heart craves to see him crushed, miserable, regretful. You want him to beg for your forgiveness for the rest of his life.

But it’s Joel.

He doesn’t wallow in negativity for long, and instead of welling up with tears like you want them to, his eyes start slowly sliding up your body. They linger on your cleavage for a moment before reaching your face.

“You’re fuckin hot, baby.”

After years of knowing the man, you’re still shocked by his head-spinning mood change. A second ago he looked like a kicked puppy and now all he wants is to hump your leg.

You laugh bitterly, dropping your arms at the sides.

“Jesus, Joel, you’re something else.”

He mistakes your reaction for a genuine joy and chuckles,

“Yeah, you ain’t wrong, sweetheart.”

You’re shaking your head and then lift your eyes to the sky, not believing that you let your pussy choose a husband for you years ago, having ignored all the red flags.

Joel doesn’t let it go.

“I’m not fuckin’ with you, hon,” he purrs. “You’re the hottest woman I’ve ever fucked.”

You tilt your head and sigh.

“Joel, stop it. Please.”

“No, listen,” he rises his hands, palms to you, and with his eyes big and dark says,

“No one, I repeat, no one made me as hard as you did.”

“Yay me,” you deadpan.

“It’s the truth,” he says, his expression serious.

“‘K,” you shrug. “I don’t care.”

“Yeah, yeah” Joel nods. “I blew it, I know. But the taste …” he inhales through his teeth and you frown.

“What?”

Joel’s hand snakes behind you and he puts it on your lower back before leaning in and whispering in your ear,

“Your pussy.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You slap his chest, your hand hitting his strong pecs.

“I’m serious. Your taste, baby.. it’s like I had to quit smokin’. I can’t stop thinkin’ about it. Sometimes..,” he moves close and his lips brush your ear as he murmurs, “Sometimes I still feel it on my tongue. Soft, hot… delicious. Your perfect pussy. Ahhhh… Miss it so goddamn much.”

You HATE to admit it but whatever he’s doing is actually working. You’re a mess, getting dangerously horny and needy. Joel could always turn you on from 1 to 100 in seconds and he’s doing it now, months from your divorce.

With his body close to yours, your heartbeat increases and you’re breathing fast, enveloped by his smell, by the heat of his body.

“Joel, stop,” you beg him but he doesn’t.

He tilts his head, his eyes meeting yours and gruffs,

“Would give the world to have it on my tongue again. Wanna drink from your hole.”

You’re feeling light-headed as Joel takes your earlobe in his mouth and sucks on it lightly.

“I hate you…” you breathe out and moan when he presses his strong body to yours, his arms snaking around your torso. It’s hard to think straight when he’s doing this and you pussy purrs, ‘Maybe .. he could … just a little … just to make you come …’

“Let me kiss her… one last time…”

Not waiting for you to answer, Joel takes your hand and heads to his car. You’re following him across the parking lot like a damn dog, head dizzy, mouth salivating, pussy wet.

If someone told you this morning that you were going to let your ex husband eat you out in a supermarket parking lot, you’d laugh in their stupid face.

No way in hell!

But your pussy is full of surprises. It’s also full of Joel’s tongue right now who’s having your half lying in the back of his car, your jeans and panties on the floor, your knees pressed to your chest. Joel’s holding your legs in place with his hands, helping himself to make out with your cunt.

He’s always been a loud eater so the car is filled with lewd slurping noises and your soft moans.

“Look at ‘er cryin’ for me, baby. She missed daddy, huh?” he mumbles, his lips glistening with your slick.

You reply with a needy whimper and he smirks before pushing his tongue between your folds. Joel slowly drags it up, gathering more of your wetness on his tongue, and flicks your puffy clit with his tip. Then his hot wet muscle slides down to your empty hole and thrusts inside. Your eyes flutter close when he starts fucking you with his tongue, his thumb and his index finger holding your folds open.

“Hngggg,” Joel growls with animalistic hunger and the vibrations against your pussy send you into a frenzy. You’re biting your lip, keeping yourself from crying out loud when he starts sucking on your clit.

“Joel…” you mewl and your ex smirks.

“Fuck, missed you moanin’ my name like this. Such a good girl.”

“I hate you,” you repeat weakly and Joel chuckles and then spanks your puffy cunt making you yelp. He kisses it better immediately and begins moving his jaw up and down, while his tongue is rubbing your pussy.

A few seconds of this heavenly sensation are enough for you to unravel. Your ex happily licks off every drop of your wetness that’s flowing out of your clenching hole, humming at the taste, his eyes closed with pleasure. Joel’s tirelessly prolonging your orgasm and for a second you feel grateful.

When his tongue starts hurting you, you push Joel away and drop your legs. You’re sitting there ass naked, panting heavily, eyes shut, heart pounding in your ears.

“My turn,” you barely hear Joel speak. “C’mon, show my cock how much you missed ‘im,”

You flutter your eyes open and see Joel unzipping his jeans and pulling his hard member out. Hello, old friend. It’s reddish and engorged, leaking pre cum down the thick shaft. You still remember his taste, the heaviness of it on your tongue, the way it used to fill you so perfectly. You miss it.

‘Fuck it!’ you think, riding the high of an afterglow, and ask, “Got a condom?”

“Sure, baby!”

With his dick bobing, spilling pre fuck juice everywhere, your ex gets off the seat and reaches for the glove compartment. He rummages there for a few seconds and then plops back on the seat, holding a condom between his teeth.

Not waiting for an invitation you straddle his naked thighs, your eyes darting around the parking lot through the window.

“If we get caught…. swear I’ll kill you,” you grunt while Joel’s sliding the condom on.

As soon as he’s ready you lift your ass and sink on his big cock.

Ahhh! You missed this sensation. Joel opened you up well with his tongue but the stretch still makes you gasp. The pillow of his balls feels so nice against your spit-covered pussy, warming it up perfectly, and you sigh.

“Yeah, welcome home, baby,” Joel moans and drops his head back, his mouth open in pleasure. Squeezing your asscheeks with his big hands he breathes out, “So tight. Best pussy ever.”

Already feeling yourself on the brink of euphoria, just from having him inside, you start riding him.

“You’ve surely done your research,” you half moan half grunt, rolling your hips slowly at first, getting used to his huge dick stuffed inside you but at the back of your mind you hate that he gets to have you again.

‘Come and get the hell out,’ you tell yourself and pick up your pace.

You hate how perfectly he fills you, hate how gorgeous he looks - his dark eyes half lidded, clouded with lust, his plush wet lips are luring you in for a kiss.

You can’t. You shouldn’t. It’ll hurt too much later.

Instead of kissing Joel, you lean down and suck in the skin on his neck. Joel hisses and bucks his hips up into you, sending his cock deep to kiss your cervix.

“Baby likes it rough now, huh?” he gruffs, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You leave his question without an answer and with a content smile watch a hickey bloom on the column of his neck.

Lust for him is burning your lower belly alongside your anger and it’s impossible to tell one from the other. One hand planted on his strong chest, the other flies up to his head and you run your fingers through his silky curls before tugging on them roughly.

“Could’ve had this pussy on your cock every day—,” you mutter through heavy breaths as Joel grunts. “Any time—- any moment — now all you get is a hate fuck in a parking lot..”

Joel’s eyes locked with yours gets serious and for a second you see regret behind them.

“You don’t hate me, do ya, beautiful?” He breathes out quietly. Your furrow your brows at his stupid question, tighten your fist in his hair and order,

“Shut up and make me come.”

Joel’s chest rumbles, his eyes darken, and he gets to work — his thumb finds your clit and he begins swirling it with the perfect pressure and perfect tempo.

He’s a total dick but oh god! he’s always been great at getting you off.

Still bouncing on his cock and not slowing down for a second, you lean back slightly and a moan falls from your lips when his fat crown begins massaging your soft spot.

“Yeahhh, give it to me, baby, I know you’re close. Your little clit twitches like crazy."

Joel’s encouragement makes your pussy clench and you squeeze your eyes shut as a hot wave, rising fast in your lower belly, covers you whole. Your loud cry rings in Joel’s car and you’re shaking on your ex’s lap, coming on his hard cock.

“Hnggg..That’s my g—-,” Joel chokes and stills. His arm muscles tense, his fingers dig into your asscheeks, and he begins filling the condom inside you with warm cum. You feel his dick thump deep in your core, your walls pulsating around it while your pussy is draining his balls.

As soon as you're done you get off Joel’s lap, not caring if you hurt him. Instead you smirk when he hisses and mumbles, ‘Careful, baby.’

You pick up your panties and jeans and start putting on your clothes. Sensing Joel’s eyes on you, you look at him. With his head against the backrest, his eyes sleepy, his lips in a soft smile he purrs,

“This was amazin’. We should do this again some time.”

“No,” you say as lust leaves your belly and your head clears up.

Joel pushes his lower lip out and pouts dramatically.

“Why not?”

“Fuck you that’s why,” you scoff with a smile and get out of the car.

Before leaving you bend down and ask,

“Is Jeff gonna be at yours tonight?”

Joel carefully pulls the cum-filled condom off his softening cock and frowns, gathering his thoughts for a few seconds.

“Yeah, sure. Why?”

“Well, you might ask your best friend about that time he sent me his dick pic a week after our wedding.”

“WHAT?!” Joel exclaims and drops the condom, spilling his load all over the car floor. He curses loudly as you smirk and close the door with a loud bang.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the story!

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @pascaltesaye @meetmeatyourworst @callmebyyournick-name @tateypots @pedrofan @matildagirl1 @chloeee20

[iamladyp]

[pedrospascaled]

PEDRO PASCAL as Harry Castillo Materialists (2025) dir. Celine Song

[iamladyp]

Hubby 💞💗🫶

[punkshort]

A list of Christmas stories I've written for various Pedro Pascal characters:

I'll Be Home for Christmas [Joel Miller series]: Having just caught your fiancé cheating on you, you decide to come back home from the big city to Austin for the month of December to try to figure out your next step. You had no idea you would be getting more than you bargained for with the handsome single dad who built your parents' house.

Palm Trees [Joel Miller one-shot]: Sometimes love can be found unexpectedly in the aisle of Home Depot's Christmas displays.

A Christmas Miracle [Joel Miller one-shot]: Years of tension after a failed hook-up attempt with Joel boil over at your office Christmas party, but not in the way you expect.

Sweater Weather [Joel Miller one-shot]: A famous popstar's Christmas Eve concert brings an unexpected love into your life.

Red Lace & Holiday Cheer [Joel Miller one-shot]: While visiting him at work, you decide to give Joel his Christmas present early. - roommates!joel

Christmas in the City [Javier Peña one-shot]: As if your holiday season couldn't get any worse, you get lost on your way to the first day of your new job. Lucky for you, a handsome and flirty stranger finds you on the verge of tears and walks you to your office building, turning your day around instantly.

Just Friends [Javier Peña one-shot]: Accompanying your friend Javier to his holiday work party seemed simple enough until it gets a little too hard to just pretend to be dating.

The Holiday in Vermont [Dave York one-shot]: A much needed escape after a brutal breakup to Woodstock, Vermont gives you much more than you ever bargained for when you meet Dave York.

[punkshort]

If anyone's looking to get into the holiday spirit 🎄

[iamladyp]

Go read it it's mandatory!