#I hope this answers your question well enough

[unintentionalseductress]

How To Court A Dragon

Warnings: MDNI, sex, monster fucking, DVP, explicit genitalia descriptions, double pp, size kink, mentions of breeding Summary: You unintentionally became his mate. Of course, you have some questions. A/n: Hey ya'll! I used to be called nanamiscocksleeve! Here it is! Now...I hope this isn't something people will shy away from because it took me a lot of effort to write this, not to mention all the weird questions I asked Google about reptilian mating parts (there's a sentence I never thought I'd write!). Also, the things about the pp...I was imagining this scene from The Shape of Water 🤭🤭🤭. Enjoy my fellow monster lovers!

“Sylus?” You glance over at the large, intimidating dragon occupying about half the space on the large fur rug you’re both lying on. The dragon, idly fiddling with a gilded coin, glances at you with a bored look in his ruby eyes.

“Yes, kitten?” he asks in his usual growl as he flicks the coin away onto a pile of gold. 

“We’ve known each other for quite some time.”

Sylus raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose we have.”

“I was wondering…if I could ask some questions.”

“Questions?” Sylus looks at you with mild curiosity. “Hmm, let me consult my schedule... ah yes, I have a free moment between ‘hoarding treasure’ and ‘menacing villagers.’ Make it quick." He flashes you a sarcastic grin and you roll your eyes.

“Can you ever just speak normally? Wait that’s not my question!” You add hastily as Sylus’s eyes flash in amusement, clearly about to reply and further annoy you by not answering what you really had in mind. 

A deep, rumbling chuckle emanates from Sylus’s throat. “Go ahead, sweetie.”

You fiddle with the rug, wondering how to phrase your question. You had been living with, if it could be called that, a dragon for a reasonable amount of time now. Between the cave and Tarus City, there wasn’t a glimpse of another human for miles, and now, he was the closest thing to companionship that you had. 

Initially, you were worried he wasn’t interested in you beyond consuming you as a meal but as time progressed, the two of you had struck a balanced relationship. Now whenever you and Sylus ventured out into Tarus City, the inhabitants had begun to refer to you as the dragon’s mate. The thought had initially made you blush because ‘mate’ referred to something more carnal and intimate than whatever you two were. However, Sylus had made no effort to correct them, and now you had unwittingly accepted the title, and it had become part of your identity. 

There was a cavern within the long and winding cave filled with books from faraway lands and one day when you had nothing else to do, you’d come across a book entitled “The Courtship of Dragons”. It was obviously written from a human point of view but you’d read things that had left you with many questions; most of it seemed to be a work of fantasy like the author had made up some parts just to keep the reader’s attention. You’d turned these thoughts over and over in your head until you decided enough was enough and that you needed to get the answers straight from the dragon’s mouth. 

“I read something about…dragon mating. And I’m a little confused by it.” You venture out the topic hesitantly, looking at him for a reaction. Sylus’s face remains impassive as he regards you.  

“Dragon mating?” he chuckles as you avert your eyes back onto the rug, plucking at the fur as you do so. “Whatever did you read? Tell me. I’m quite curious to know.”

You clear your throat before continuing. “Well, the author said dragons have an innate sense about recognizing their mates and that they don’t…nest with other dragons. Is that true?”

Sylus rolls over onto his side contemplating. “Yes, that’s true. Dragons do mate for life. Once they find the one, they become their own unit. They make their own lair, and no other dragon is allowed to enter it. We get highly territorial if this is violated.” 

“I see.” You twiddle your thumbs together. “And…what if…your real mate is out there somewhere? Wouldn’t my presence be a downside?”

“My real mate?” Sylus asks in a vexing tone. “I’m not sure I follow.”

You look at him in disbelief before hedging on. “You know, your real mate. The dragon you’re supposed to be with.”

“You keep forgetting I’m only half dragon. Chances of my mate being completely dragon aren’t high.”

You click your tongue impatiently. “Fine, the other half-dragon or whatever. Isn’t she still out there? If she turns up in your life one day, then doesn’t that mean…” Your voice trails as you consider the implications. 

“Yes?” Sylus prompts you. 

“Well we’d have to shake hands and part ways right?” You rest your cheek on your palm, bearing your weight on your elbow as you turn to look at him. “I wouldn’t be allowed here anymore since you have a mate.”

“What makes you think my mate would be a dragon hybrid?”

The question exasperates you. “Aren’t you the one who said your mate wouldn’t be completely dragon?”

“I did. But you seem to be forgetting another possibility.”

“What? Is there a percentage of dragon she has to be for this to work?” 

Sylus lets out a booming laugh, the noise echoing richly off the walls of his cave. You look at him confoundedly, unable to fathom what made him laugh like this. 

“There’s no need to mock me.” You huff irritably as you watch his abdomen quiver from his mirth. “I’m just trying to familiarize myself with dragon etiquette.”

Sylus quiets down at your tone before he reaches out a clawed hand and flicks your forehead. “Can you really not think of another possibility?”

“No.” You curtly bite out the word. “And I don't appreciate being teased.”

The dragon shakes his head, a wide grin forming on his chiseled face. 

“You seem oblivious to the possibility that she could also be human.” The tone with which he says the words render you momentarily speechless. You hadn’t in fact, considered that as a possibility at all. How could a normal human become a mate to a dragon?

Almost as if Sylus had sensed your curiosity, he explains. “I didn’t make the rules, sweetie. Dragon hybrids are known to find human mates more often than not. Perhaps with the hope that their offspring have a chance to become completely human.” 

Fascinated with this bit of information, you turn it over in your head. “Aren’t you interested in finding her?”

“Finding her?” Sylus chuckles. “Why would I put in that effort when she’s been with me this whole time?” He raises an eyebrow at you as you process his words, then falter as the meaning finally washes over you. 

“Me?!” You sputter as Sylus watches amusedly, his tail swishing across the rug. “Just because the villagers of Tarus City think I’m your mate doesn’t make it true!”

“Indeed, it doesn’t,” Sylus agrees almost maddeningly. “What makes it true is the mark I left on your neck.” 

Your breath hitches and the moment seems to stand still, stuck in time like a black-and-white photograph. Instinctively, your fingers reach for the bite mark Sylus had left on the crook of your neck when he’d first met you. “What about it?” you ask defensively. 

Enjoying the flustered look on your face, the dragon calmly explains. “The mark would have faded by now if you weren’t fated for me. Mate marks last forever, no matter when they’re given.” He smirks, revealing his sharp teeth. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” You burst out, overwhelmed by this reveal. “ I’ve been sitting here day after day thinking at some point you’ll find your true mate and I’d have to think about how to fend for myself!”

“I’m sorry, but I’m confused about which of these is more distressing to you. The idea of moving out, or realizing you’re my mate?” Sylus asks the question with a lilt and you resist the urge to punch him, knowing you’d injure yourself against those scales.

“Both,” you say swiftly, then turn away from him. You’re taken aback as his tail suddenly wraps around your waist and pulls you against him. His chest is warm against your back and his breath tickles your neck as you squirm in his grasp. 

“Where do you think you’re going my little one?” Sylus purrs in your ears. Determined not to let him get a rise out of you, you sulk, ceasing all movements even as your heart pounds in your chest. His chin brushes against the top of your head like a territorial cat. “What? All bark and no bite?” A soft laugh emanates from him as he continues to hold your body against his and you realize…

“Are you snuggling me?” You resist the urge to look over your shoulder and Sylus presses a kiss to it in response.

“Yes. Snuggling between a dragon and their mate isn’t uncommon. Was that not in your readings?” He teases as he continues nuzzling into your warm skin which was steadily heating up under his attention. 

“But when did we become mates?” You rack your brains, trying to think amidst the fluffy fog now filling your brain as Sylus continues to show his affection. 

“It’s not something you become. It’s something you are. Do you ask the water why it flows, or why the sun is bright?” Sylus’s tail wraps further around you, the smooth scales feeling comfortably warm against your skin. “You just are. I knew it. The inhabitants of Tarus City knew it.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me.” You quip sarcastically as his nose buries itself into your hair, smelling the sweet scent of the soap you’d used earlier in the day. 

“Would you have believed me?” His inhalations were sending tingles across your scalp and you tried not to melt into his embrace which was surprisingly warm and secure. 

“I-I suppose not,” you admit begrudgingly before your eyes flutter closed. Sylus continues his tender handling, and with a sigh, you finally give in, rolling to face him and letting him embrace you against his chest. He doesn’t say anything but cups the back of your head, claws gently scratching through your scalp and you drowsily let him caress the silky locks. 

Noticing your unwillingness starting to fade, Sylus murmurs, “Does the prospect of being my mate seem less daunting now?” 

His tail wraps around the backs of your thighs and you glance up at him, blushing when you see him gazing back at you intently. Those brilliant ruby eyes, akin to those in his treasury, had an intensity you couldn’t place. It was almost like they could pierce into your very soul and see all of you bare. The thought made you feel exposed and you blink, trying to gather your thoughts. The sharp, dagger-like tip of his tail now rested on your hip, and you hesitantly began to finger it, unsure what to say.

“Not less daunting,” you start, observing how his tail flicks gently in response to your touch, the sharp, hooked scales at the very end softening and flattening against your palm. “Not in the least. You are ancient, powerful, eternal. People fear you even as they look at you in awe. A dragon is timeless, and as a human, I’m like a fleeting ember, a mere second in your life. I might have a thirst for revenge on those who wronged me, but I am an ordinary human. I don’t understand why you believe I would be a suitable mate.” 

 You steal another look at him and see that his pupils are starting to dilate, the dark center of them consuming the red. Sylus lets out a noise of frustration, seemingly ready to give up trying to convince you, but to your surprise, he takes a deep breath of fortifying patience, then grasps your chin with his fingers, ensuring you can see his face. 

“I’m going to give you one, final, absolute, piece of proof. And if you still don’t believe it, then I will eat you so that I don’t have to listen to your maddening doubts anymore.” His tone implies he’s being humorous, but you cautiously watch him, fully aware that you have no defenses against those teeth and claws. You nod, his fingers dipping with the movement. 

“You and I share half of each other’s soul. A typical human vessel wouldn’t be capable of such a thing. Not unless you are fated.” He lets go of your face and brings your ear to his chest. His heartbeat was a steady thud-thud-thud, and yet…it felt like a call. Like something was there inviting you to come home, even though you didn’t know where it was, and suddenly, you feel your own heartbeat start to resonate with his, automatically following his rhythm, inexplicable, deep, primal. He waits and you realize what he’s been trying to say all along. There was no reasoning behind mates. You just knew.

You swallow, feeling like you’d been doused with a bucket of cold water, then place your hand over his heart, feeling a little thrill as he covers it with his. A shaky breath forces its way out of you as you lean your forehead against him, a sense of enlightenment washing over you. 

“Understand now?” Sylus asks almost imploringly and your heart clenches at the tone. 

“Yes.” You gather courage and look him in the eyes. “I do.” Then in a much softer tone, you add, “I’m sorry.”

At your apology, Sylus gathers you in his arms, his embrace almost suffocating as he holds you. Your hands wrap around his back, feeling the points in his skin where the wings sprouted from his body. It felt strangely intimate to touch something like this, and you couldn’t help but run your fingers along the ridges, fascinated by the texture. Sylus’s breath catches in his throat and he loosens his grip, easing you back onto the rug. 

With confidence, you raise a hand to cup his face, your chest swelling with joy as he turns into your touch, his lips grazing your palm. You’d never seen him so vulnerable and defenseless, the fact that he was baring a secretive part of himself to you humbling. You don’t stop him as he lays over you, nuzzling your neck and letting out a series of low growls that sound strangely affectionate. 

You giggle, and he pauses, looking at you with keen interest. “Something amusing you, my love?”

“You’re like a cat,” you tease, then pet the hair between his horns. Even as his expression changes to being miffed, his eyelids become half closed. 

“I am most certainly not a cat.” He sounds affronted but makes no move to stop your petting, and more low growls escape his throat. You can’t control your mirth and the giggles now bubble out of you uncontrollably. 

“Then how come you’re purring?” You stop petting his hair and cup his face with both hands, a wide smile forming on your face as Sylus opens his eyes, which are hazy and languid. 

"That... that isn't purring," The dragon hybrid says with a slight huff. "That was a growl, and you know it."

“Or is that just how dragons purr?” You playfully run your fingers behind his ears, massaging the lobes and then back into his scalp at the base of both horns. 

Sylus tries to keep up his facade of stubbornness, but the gentle massages make him shiver with pleasure. "No, that's a growl. Purring sounds like..." He attempts to imitate a cat's purring, but it came out more like a deep rumbling that vibrated throughout his chest.

You snicker, and then an uncontrollable fit of laughter seizes you, the kind that makes your shoulders and chest shake. Here was this mythical creature, feared and worshipped, yet somehow, trying to imitate a cat despite insisting he was not behaving like one. You brush away a tear from your eye, then look at Sylus who’s sulking, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of crimson. Was this the same dragon that you had worried about being a mate to?

"You-you're insufferable, you know that?" He grumbled, even as he nuzzled his face against your neck; he couldn’t seem to help himself. You reassuringly pat his back. 

“If this is how dragons treat their mate, then I’m no longer worried.” 

“Is that so?” Sylus retreats so that he can gaze down at you. You can see how his expression is softening, betraying the depth of his fondness for you. 

“Yeah. I’m starting to come around.”

“Good. I’m glad I was able to change your mind.” Sylus takes your hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing your knuckles and causing your heart to flip-flop inside your chest. Your free hand idly strokes his back, still engrossed with the different textures of his skin where the wings began. 

“You seem to have a lot of thoughts about my wings,” Sylus observes as you fondle the leathery base.

“How big are they?” You ask curiously, then gasp as Sylus suddenly pins you under him, then with a rustling noise, his wings fully extend for your viewing pleasure. You look at them, enthralled by the contrasting marbled red and black membranes, little spikes lining the upper ridges. 

“About ten feet each,” Sylus says gruffly with a hint of pride. “Pure dragons are much bigger though.”

You reach out a finger, watching for signs of resistance and when he doesn’t show any, gently trace the membranes, observing how the sunlight illuminated through them like a backdrop. 

Sylus hums at your exploration, his wings twitching slightly before he lies flush against you, putting them in easier reach of your wandering fingers. He resumes that low growling as you do so, and as you watch him close his eyes, another question forms in your head.

“Sylus…are your wings sensitive when touched?”

He cracks his eyes open, and there’s a quality to them that wasn’t present before. A hint of…nervousness? 

“Yes.” He admits after a gap in a slightly breathless tone. “But only when you touch them.” 

His words only make you more captivated, and you continue to delicately stroke down the leathery expanses, the surfaces almost silky to your touch. As you do so, Sylus suddenly squeezes his eyes closed and lets out a rough moan, like he is doing his best to not lose his restraint. 

Your hands freeze as you feel his claws scrape against your clothes, digging into your soft skin as his wings swiftly drop from their extended positions, cocooning you in a swaddle of red and black.

Unsure what just happened, you gently try stroking his hair again. There had been no mention of dragons behaving like this in the books you’d read, and you were burning to ask him, but not if he wasn’t in the right state of mind.

“Sylus?” You call his name softly and hear him hum in response. “Are you ok?”

He lets out a few uneven breaths before resting his head on your chest just underneath your chin. “Yes…I’m fine. No need to worry.” 

“Is it all right if I ask something else?”

“Does it have to do with those ridiculous readings of yours again?” 

You’re about to protest but decide against it. He was behaving in a completely unprecedented manner and you weren’t about to kill the adorable mood. 

“Why are your wings wrapped around me like this?” Your hands rest on his flanks, feeling his tail swishing as it lightly hits your feet. 

It seems to take him a great deal of willpower to bring himself into a state where he can answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, mesmerizing, rumble, and you feel yourself tremble in response.

"When a dragon has a mate, it's not uncommon to wrap our wings around them. It's like a protective shield, a barrier that symbolizes possession. You might say it’s our way of claiming our beloved as ours." Sylus’s mouth ghosts your ear, and his next words cause gooseflesh to erupt on your skin. 

“Sometimes, the urge to mate becomes too strong and dragons don’t particularly enjoy being watched. The size of our wings is significant because they must be able to completely wrap around their mate as our primal instincts take over. Hides them from unwanted eyes. After all, there can be no treasure more precious to a dragon than our mate.”

A claw gently pushes away a stray lock of hair from your face and Sylus gazes longly at your face. Swallowing, you press on with your questions, despite feeling a steady rise of tingling heat beginning in your belly and slowly flooding into your chest and sex. 

“And when dragons mate…is it similar to other animals going into a rut?” 

Sylus chuckles, and his tail slides up your body, slithering between your breasts, the feel of each scale brushing against you sparking little flames of desire under your skin. His forehead rests against yours and his wings seem to tighten around you even more. 

“Rut would be the wrong word. A rut would imply something quick and with little intention other than impregnation. Dragons do not rut like most basic animals…we have a long and sensual ritual, lasting for a significant period, and the end goal is to ensure our mate’s satisfaction. Also, dragons do not have a set season like most animals. Rituals can occur anytime provided both mates are willing.”

Your mouth goes dry at the explanation, and you can see the edges of his scarlet irises beginning to darken even more, like bits of smoke mixing with magma. “A-A r-ritual?” Your tongue feels like it’s too big for your mouth and you stumble over the words. 

“Yes my little one,” Sylus purrs, and this time when his lips touch your ear, he follows it with a wet lick of his tongue, awakening a heady, primal, storm inside your gut. “The dragon breeding ritual. A crucial part of dragon courtship. During this time, the male will go into a rather intense state of need. Nothing matters beyond being close to and satisfying his mate. And the female must be prepared for a rather… passionate experience."

Your next words fall out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. 

“Are a dragon’s organs compatible with a human’s?” You cover your mouth as soon as you ask, face flushing with embarrassment. You hadn’t meant to ask it so crudely, but too little too late. 

Sylus gives you an appraising look, his lips curling. “Well…simply put, yes. They’re compatible with human mating organs but they’re certainly not visually similar.” His reply astounds you and you blink, unprepared for his answer, rendered speechless. Questions buzz in your head as you mull over what you’ve been told.

“I’m guessing there’s more?” Sylus’s eyes glitter with mischief. 

“Ah…well….” You recall one last thing you had read and it was so outlandish that you weren’t sure how to put it into words. Sylus watches you patiently as you try to get your words together. “The book…the book said…that dragons are…that they have…” 

You swallow and bite the bullet. “That dragons have two.” 

Silence follows your words and Sylus’s eyes widen, before he composes himself.

“Heh. Were you purposely saving the interesting questions for last sweetie?” A cheeky grin quirks his lips and you turn your face to hide in his wings. 

“Now now. Don’t get all embarrassed with it out in the open.” Sylus grasps your chin and turns you to face him. “It looks like at least one thing in that book was right.”

Your eyes become as wide as dinner plates. “Really?”

“Yes. That bit of information is true. Male dragons do in fact have two mating organs.” 

The casual way Sylus says these words, like he’s giving a biology lecture contrasts your shell-shocked expression. Your mind could now only attempt to imagine what it looked like and it was going haywire at the discovery. 

Observing the stunned look on your face, Sylus gently nudges you. “Perhaps you shouldn’t ask questions that you’re not ready to hear the answers to, kitten.” 

Your eyes rove down over his body, taking in the wide view of his chest, leading down to narrower hips and legs that seemed to stretch for days. Then his tail, an appendage adding another 6 feet to his whole length. And somewhere in between all this, tucked away under his leather trousers were not one, but two, dragon penises. 

You try to recall your last encounter with a man, a knight, who had been keen on showing his abilities. It was fine, for lack of a better word, and you remembered how the man’s decently sized single organ shrunk once everything was over. Were Sylus’s similarly shrunken and stacked one above the other at this very moment?

At your lack of response, Sylus chuckles, then in an unexpected gesture of tenderness, strokes your hair. “I can tell this isn’t the end of it. Go on. Get it all out.”

Your mind seems to have lost its ability to think. Wetting your lips, you try to think of something reasonable to say but words have lost all meaning. After a few more minutes of silence, during which Sylus has wrapped you up again in his arms and tail, enjoying your closeness, do you finally venture forward with an inquiry.  

“Why two?”

Sylus makes an odd noise like he was choking down a laugh. He lets out a puff of air, chortling. “Ah, kitten. If only I knew. There are two theories, both of which don’t have much evidence to support them.” Sylus turns onto his side and you yip as you’re sandwiched between his wings, the upper one covering you like a blanket as Sylus moves into a more comfortable position, moving your body closer to his.

“The first theory is that because dragon pairings are rare, two organs help increase the chances of a successful pregnancy. The other…” he trails off and his smile becomes positively wicked before he continues. “The other suggests that having two serves no other purpose than to heighten the woman’s pleasure.”

An uncontrollable shiver runs down your spine and you feel your entire body become hot. Your voice is hushed as you ask, “And they…both…go into the same…?”

Catching on to what you were implying, Sylus chuckles at your reaction, your embarrassment only fueling his enjoyment. It was so tempting to tease you into a flustered mess.

"Ah, you're catching on, aren't you? Yes, both of them go... in the same place. And together, no less." He leans in, his mouth close to your ear again. "Can't you picture it, my dear? The sensation of both of them, inside you at the same time..."

You squeak at the graphic description and bury your face into his chest. “Ok, I’ve heard enough! Stop!” You try to calm your racing heart but Sylus’s low purr as he’d explained dragon anatomy was still ringing in your ears. There was a burning curiosity to ask him how it worked, how it fit but you were positive you would drop dead from the embarrassment. 

You twitch when Sylus puts his calloused hands on your back, soothingly stroking your skin. “It’s all right my jewel. I know it’s a lot of information to process. Take your time. I’m yours after all.” 

At his last few words, you lean away and glance at his face. “You’re mine?”

“Yes,” Sylus murmurs, the tenderness in his eyes becoming more evident. “As you are mine. I’m equally your mate as well.” There’s a tinge of possessiveness in his voice that you hadn’t heard before and it was making you feel weak; the thought of belonging to Sylus, of him belonging to you. There was an ancient concept of souls being bound at play and suddenly you find that you’re highly attuned to his mood; the atmosphere has changed, and part of you can feel the intense want that’s filling Sylus’s bloodstream, can sense the depth of his emotional bond as it echoes in his chest. Your body seems to synergize with his, each rush of blood, each dilation of the pupils, and every sigh that’s being shoved back all come into clarity. You reach out to touch his neck and the mating mark on yours seems to hum with life, drawing you closer to Sylus’s physical state. 

Sylus looks intoxicated as he drinks in the sight of you, soft and pliant in his arms despite having done nothing but talk to you about courtship. You were still shy, but he can sense there’s now a primal instinct that’s beginning to take over. His restraint was at a limit but he waits for you to make the first move, knowing he’d regret it if his first act of intimacy with you was for his own selfishness. His voice dropped even lower,  a rough, possessive growl.

“Be mine, my precious treasure. Be with me. Be Mine to claim, mine to protect, and mine to possess."

His words resonate deep within you and the overwhelming feelings you’d been holding back break like a dam. With trembling fingers, you stroke his cheek, dragging a fingertip across his lips, your breath catching as Sylus nibbles the digit. 

Gathering courage, you ask him softly, “Can I see?”

A thrum seems to vibrate through the air and Sylus nods. “You wish to see all of me? I’m yours.”

Sensing you were too timid at the moment, Sylus undoes his trousers, and they rustle as he slips them down his legs. Still in his embrace, covered with his wings, you wait, then trail your hands down his heated abdomen. His heart pounds in his chest as you do so, feeling the unfamiliar terrain of skin and scales before your hand finally reaches its destination. Sylus’s harsh breathing can be heard as he waits for you to touch him but when you do so, you’re slightly puzzled. 

Your fingers brush against smooth scales where a normal man’s genitals would be. You venture further, wondering. 

“Sylus? They are here right?” 

You hear a choked laugh, then he nuzzles the top of your head. 

“Yes, my love. Like I said, visually, I’m not like a man.” His voice is gruff as he tries to explain. His hands roam across your body, squeezing the soft flesh and purring at the feeling. 

“Then where…?”

“They're hidden beneath my scales, darling.” There’s a breathless quality as he speaks. “Just keep…petting me there.” 

Sylus closes his eyes for a moment, his body trembling as you continue to touch him. The sensation of your fingers tracing the scales on his skin was both soothing and arousing, making it difficult to hold back the possessive roar that threatened to escape his throat. Watching your reaction as you explored the area where his scales ended and something more intimate began was threatening to snap his will in two like a twig. 

“Oh!” Your eyes widen as you suddenly feel a bump starting to make itself evident. 

“There…” Sylus’s voice is gravelly. “Go ahead, my dear... Lift my scales gently. Just a little...”

You feel like little electric currents are running nonstop under your skin as you follow his orders. Your sex pulses between your closed legs, all the courtship explanations still fresh in your mind. You carefully start to lift the scales over the bump, curiosity piqued as they give way to a sort of shallow slit, then before you can go any deeper, you feel something hard and moist rise out of the patch. 

Whatever you had been imagining didn’t even come close to the real thing. You watch, transfixed, as Sylus’s twin cocks spring free, standing proudly in your palm. One was higher up on his body, and the other sat lower, and the lower one was slightly longer than the upper. Both of them were hot to the touch, beads of precum weeping from their slits. Colossal compared to a human, their surfaces were smooth but ridged in parts, in a way that resembled scales, yet softer. They were both coated in a sort of viscous, translucent, liquid, exuding from the cocks. 

Sylus groans as he feels the heat of your palm against his cocks. In a constricted voice he asks, “Well? What do you think?”

Fascinated, you gently grip the lower one, silently noting the size of it compared to your forearm, and wrap your fingers around it, barely managing to make them meet around the engorged column. A low growl leaves Sylus as you start to pump the smooth, velvety, column, observing how the shorter top one also responds, pulsing in time with its pair. A slick, wet noise fills the air as you stroke him and Sylus’s hips begin to rock against your movements. His mouth is open and he’s panting, sweat gathering on his brow as you experimentally continue to touch him. 

The scales that lined his cock were incredibly squishy and malleable, not at all having resemblance to the hard and sharp ridges on the rest of his body. As more of the lubricating fluid began to gather on his lengths, you wonder at the texture of those scales against the palm of your hand, and suddenly, start imagining how they would feel inside your cunt. Rubbing, stroking, providing extra stimulation as they nestled deep inside you. You bite your lip and steal a look at Sylus, heart jolting when you find him gazing right at you, and judging by his expression, he can feel the longing building deep inside your body. 

“I can smell it, kitten.” He inhales deeply, your scent filling his senses like an aphrodisiac. “Your arousal. It’s as potent as the daturas on the mountainside.” His cheek brushes against yours and you freeze as he kisses the corner of your lips. It was so unexpected and sweet and you turn towards him. 

“Bloom for me,” Sylus whispers before his lips lay over yours, capturing them in a deep and passionate kiss. Your breath catches in your throat and it’s like the kiss had opened a gate, all your raw desires coming loose. Like a ball of unwinding yarn, your arms draw around Sylus’s neck, pressing as possibly close as you can to him, your mouth opening sweetly to offer him your tongue.

The unbridled ardor of your reaction has Sylus groaning like a drowning man, his tongue slipping deeper into your wet cavern, sipping, sampling, and savoring the flavors that were unique to you. The rushing thrill of your surrender was a dizzying upward spiral as his hands roamed over your body, cupping your clothed breasts as his wings quivered from the tingling delight of being wrapped so snugly around your form. 

Sylus breaks the kiss and his long, dexterous, tongue licks a line down the side of your neck, sucking over the point where your pulse beat hotly, and into the crook of your shoulder. You gasp as his teeth sink into the flesh, a nip of pain flaring through you before Sylus soothes the sting with his tongue. 

“You taste as delicious as you smell my jewel,” he murmurs sensually, and continues his journey across your body, biting and sucking at your collarbone before resting between your breasts, nuzzling his face into the warmth. 

His tail has managed to slip between your legs and the jagged ridges have all smoothed into a streamlined piece of muscle, teasingly moving between your thighs, just high enough for the upper side to rub against your underwear, playing into the wetness that was already starting to gather. You moan at the stimulation, barely enough to even scratch the surface of your raging flames, and hook your leg over Sylus’s hip to give you more access. The thick tail presses into your slit, rhythmically dragging the fabric against your engorged clit as his hands busy themselves undoing the laces at the back of your dress. 

You shiver despite the rising heat as the dress falls apart at the back and Sylus drags the garment off over your head, his breath catching as he finally gets his first, unobscured look at you. His eyes rove appreciatively over your body, his blood humming in his veins as he watches your skin become ruddy, the light filtering over it through his wing casting a soft, shadowy glow. Your nipples were perked and hard, your skin smooth and creamy, with little curls of hair poking out from underneath the sides of your panties. 

You whimper as the very tip of his tail wedges into the apex of your folds, rubbing the soaked fabric directly onto your clit, sending skitters of electricity through your system. The air seems to become balmy as you breathe, harsh pants leaving you as want grows in your core, the overwhelming need to bite down and mark him back as he’d done for you becoming palpable with each passing second. 

Sylus raises a clawed finger and brings it to your mouth, which you obligingly suck, followed by a sharp bite that makes his eyes dilate and brings a grin to his lips. He slowly pulls the digit back, letting it slide between your lips and stroking the wetness onto a nipple, enjoying the way your breath becomes ragged and how your core clenches against his sinful ministrations. 

“Sylus…” you whimper, feeling tension curling in the pit of your stomach like a bow that’s been drawn too tight. His only response was a hum, his head dipping down leisurely to capture your other nipple, licking circles on it with the tip of his tongue, not unlike the motions his tail was currently drawing onto your puffy clit. His thumb and forefinger tweak your other hardened peak, pulling and pinching methodically as the moans of your pleasure fill the chamber. Now and then you feel the scrape of his monstrous teeth against the delicate skin of your nipple, just intense enough to bring a small lick of fear into you before you feel the reassuring slip of his tongue. 

Your sighs fill your head, body yielding to him, melting against the silken leathery embrace of his wings, eyes closing as the sweetening ache inside you builds. You stir as you feel his tail shift, and your panties are dragged down your legs, exposing your swollen sex. The unexpected feeling of his scales is suddenly made present as his tail lays flat between your folds, wetting itself with your slick and gliding smoothly against your aroused pussy. Your mouth opens to let out a high-pitched whine as the smoothened scales add extra stimuli to your bud, your hips moving with him and seeking out more friction. Sylus finally releases your nipple as he feels your desperate humps, and maneuvers you so that you’re straddling him, body balanced on his tail as it continues to pleasure you.

Your voice keens as your hands splay on his hard chest, the slippery appendage rocking against your clit, feeling the differences in the size of the scales while sliding closer to the base as the dagger-shaped tip tickles your chin. Your mouth instinctively moves to take it, sucking on it pacifyingly to ground yourself as your hips undulate over the rest of the sinew. You boldly glance at Sylus and his eyes are sanguineous, uninhibitedly gazing at the sight of you hot and bothered, seeking carnal satisfaction that he knows only his body can provide. 

The end of his tail withdraws from your mouth and teasingly draws back down to your breast, curling around a nipple and squeezing while he maintains the steady movement he knows you crave between your legs. With nothing to muffle your noises, your voice grows steadily louder, echoing off the high walls of the cave as Sylus guides you toward the abyss of gratification. 

“My body is yours little one,” Sylus says in a harsh whisper that has your senses on edge. You feel the flutter of his wings as they enfold you again, a little space of privacy where only you and he exist. 

“Use me for your pleasure.” His hand cups your cheek and his movements become frenzied, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches you writhe over him, trying to find release. 

A soft haze seems to settle around you as your body orgasms. You feel the repetitive little spasms of your clit mirrored in your core as they become longer and more intense, flooding your body with sinful delight as you sob out your need. Your eyes are shut tight, the world becoming an incoherent mix of color and light where nothing is solid except for your mate as he pushes you through your heady climax. Even as your heartbeat turns erratic, you can sense the changes in him too as he scents the salty tang of your relief as your body relaxes. You gasp, steadying yourself as Sylus gently withdraws his tail, letting you collapse on his chest as you try to come back down to earth.

You feel his claws soothingly scratch your back and gratefully nuzzle into his chest before taking a steadying breath and peering over your shoulder at his neglected cocks. They were still standing, colossal and proud, with thick pearlescent beads forming on the tip. The slippery viscous fluid was now being exuded copiously, lubricating the entire length.

You crawl over to them, and Sylus lets out a gasp of surprise as your tongue darts out to taste one, running it over the weeping head. You taste salt on his skin and bob your head down a little lower, taking as much as you can, and Sylus fists the rug, his teeth biting his lower lip as he tries to control the raging urge to take you right there. 

Barely able to deepthroat him, you come back up, letting the moistened cock slip out of your lips before you gather both between your hands, squeezing the bases together before sucking both tips back into your mouth. Your jaw stretches wide to accommodate them, only taking him about halfway before coming back up for air. The lubricant covering them was tasteless but aided their path into your mouth and towards the back of your throat. Sylus thrusts into the inviting wetness as he tries not to choke you. You suck playfully, wet noises issuing from your mouth as you do so before Sylus suddenly jerks your head back, strings of spit connecting your lips to both heads.

“Not like this…” His voice is ragged. Swiftly, he flips you onto your back, drawing your ankles to rest on his shoulders as your thighs part for him. Your hole is quivering with anticipation as you feel one of the thick erections probe your entrance. 

“Breathe sweetie,” Sylus reminds you, his eyes growing steadily more animalistic as he pushes into you. You gasp at the feeling, then your eyes widen as Sylus gently splits you apart, your folds giving way to his massive proportions. You sniff, tears in your eyes at his size. There was pain along with the pleasure as your walls adjusted to him. 

Sylus’s wings gather you close to him, cradling you against his body as he strokes your face, whispering encouragement to you as he continues to sheathe himself into the hot moisture of your cunt. You squirm, the stretch foreign and uncomfortable, unsure what to do.

“Relax my little one. It’s ok.” Sylus kisses away your tears. “Remember we were made for each other. We’re meant to fit.” He halts, nearly fully inside, and your sniffs fade as you slowly adjust to him. Sylus thrusts softly, and you whimper, feeling so full impaled helplessly on his generous size. As he continues those deep strokes, your body seems to easen, the tension trickling away and giving rise to a whole new sensation. Your breath catches as you feel the thick mushroom head kiss your cervix with each stroke, the lower cock slapping against your buttocks with each move. The scales you had been touching earlier dragged smoothly along your inner walls with minimal resistance, flattening every time he pushed in, and erotically stimulating them as he withdrew. Every inch of your sex felt like it was being touched all at once and your eyes close dreamily as you lose yourself to the growing flutters of ecstasy. 

The next set of delighted moans are music to his ears and Sylus sensually rolls his hips each time, determined to wring out every tiny noise possible from you. Your face scrunches up in pleasure as he takes you, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you keep thinking about how the second one would feel. Your breasts bounce as he fucks you, and soon you’re breathing his name, hands grasping his forearms as your bodies fuse together.  

Sylus sees your eyes glazing over with need, your mind switching to a state where all that mattered was the hedonistic rush of your bodies working together in harmony. He pauses, interrupting his rhythm as he angles his second cock at your entrance.

You moan as you feel it but when Sylus pushes, there’s no resistance, your cunt already sloppy from his previous thrusts. The action puts his upper cock in contact with your Gspot, and your cunt feels wonderfully pliant as you feel both of them working in tandem to bring you to another peak. The added thickness combined with the scales' stimulation on both surfaces brought you to a realm of delight you hadn’t thought was possible as he starts to fuck into you with purpose, certain that you are no longer in pain.

His teeth are gritted as Sylus ruts into you marveling at the tightness of your cunt, how every clench and spasm felt on his dicks, knowing he was responsible for each one. Your combined juices start to pool at the base of his cocks, leaving a sticky ring of arousal. The wet squelch of your cunt fills the air and Sylus sees your folds, still slick from the interaction with his tail and he’s determined to make you lose control another time. 

You whine in protest when you feel him halt again and Sylus hushes you as he withdraws his upper dick and lets it sit with a moist plop back between your folds. The runny juices slide down and coat your pussy and you can feel the soft ridged scales now nestled at your most sensitive spot and you realize what he intended to do a second before it happened. With a smooth brush, Sylus buries himself back in your cunt and you feel the tingling stimulation of the scaled ridges sliding through your folds and hitting your clit one after the other. You nearly shriek at the feeling, almost on the border of overstimulation as Sylus sets up a brutal pace, his hips slamming into yours. 

Your face screws up and your eyes are squeezed closed as all your pleasure spots are stroked at the same time, your gspot and clit pulsing wetly. Sylus growls, his body pistoning in hot need as he chases his orgasm, seeking release. Your entire being feels like it’s slipping away, your cries of delight the only thing that can be heard. 

“Cum for me my love,” Sylus says brokenly, breathless and enraptured at the way you look, his legs shaking from the effort of controlling his climax before you had yours. Your body arches off the rug to feel the slick push of his cock and scales at a different angle and your toes curl as you finally let go and orgasm for the second time. It robs you of your thoughts, little brushes from the spikes continuing to push through every tremor you feel as the hot waves of gratification flood your system. 

Sylus’s hips stutter as he feels your walls fluttering around him, and lets out a feral roar as his climax hits him, his balls tightening up in urgent release and they spill their load. His abdomen clenches, his breathing rough as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. You hold onto him as you feel each spasm of his cocks both inside and out, one filling your walls with thick jets of his seed, the other dripping his hot, sticky cum onto your clit, mixing with your fluids as it drips messily into your slit, marking you as his in the most primal way possible. 

It takes a while for him to recover, nestling against you, and you’re content to feel his weight on your body as you stroke his hair. After a period of silence Sylus hums and rolls you over so that you’re on top of him. The action dislodges his cock from your channel and you quickly clench your hole closed, determined to keep all of him inside you, even though your folds are dripping from his essence and leaking onto him. 

“Mine…” he purrs as he noses your neck and you smile at him, brushing his cheeks with your thumb. A deep sense of belonging and satisfaction courses through both of you as you lay together in the afterglow of your courtship. 

“Rest for now kitten.” Sylus’s eyes are heavy with sleep as he cradles you on his chest. Your body felt wonderfully achy from your lovemaking. 

“I hope the hatchlings look like you,” he murmurs tiredly, and you blink as your ability to process starts coming back to you. 

“Hatchlings?” 

“That’s what we call our young.” Sylus tenderly cups your cheek and kisses you. “I’ll be certain to fill you a few more times to ensure it happens.” 

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@tokyorevengersrin @brekkersgf @ladyparamount @otomegamesforlife @shddyboo @supernaturalbaesduh @sweets-kozume @theimmortalbuns @venussakura @prisjean @laddelulu30 @lethargiccryptid @ravenclaw-jojo @redactedbimbo @crypt-0rchid @fattybattysblog @xinnn6 @xiaoderrrr @evansdmitri @ravenclaw-jojo @cordidy @hesperisms @redactedbimbo @erebus-et-eigengrau @prisjean @cheesemachine44

[wandixx]

Danny the Young Justice member

“Hey, like, hypothetically, do you think Justice League could pay me if I became hero full time?”

It shaped out to be pretty long and boring stake-out, with rest of Team scattered around but connected with Mindlink, so it seemed like best moment to ask. It wasn’t something Danny wanted to do, but it shaped out to be his only chance to get any future. He cried over it enough times already, so there was even a chance he won’t breakdown trying to discuss it out in the semi-public. He wanted to keep it as calm and rational as he could and hey, if something started to get too emotional, he could say he saw some suspicious movement and fly off to fight someone. Really, it was perfect situation.

“How hypothetical is this question?” Robin asked after a beat of silence. It was quiet and careful, like he was afraid to set him off if he said something wrong or he did it wrong way. It made skin on his back crawl. Danny knew he was a bit more volatile lately, but he really hoped special treatment would stop soon.

“Hypothetical”

“Okay, let’s say we don’t know it’s a lie”

“Unnecessary” Artemis coughed.

“C’mon it kinda was–”

“Can someone just answer my fucking question?”

“I don’t think so. Batman is the one doing most of the funding, and he is really stubborn about school and future. He wants us all to have chance at normal life outside of this hero villain business with regular job and stuff”

That didn’t bode well, but Danny hadn’t got this far by losing hope whenever first obstacle occurred.

“But I could be ready whenever disaster strikes or some villain attacks or really whenever it’s necessary and I wouldn’t need to escape any civilian stuff,” he may have gotten a bit desperate along this little rant, but he just pushed through “It always takes precious minutes and–”

“It doesn’t really seem to be hypothetical anymore,” Wally interrupted and he was lucky to be on different roof, because Danny, he sworn to ancients, would strangle him if redhead was any closer.

He was very adamant about not thinking about how his last ideas of surviving to adulthood started crumbling. He promised himself to not have breakdown in the open.

He wasn’t going to.

It was fine.

He would figure something out. He always did.

“Danny?”

“It’s fine Meg, don’t worry”

“Can we ask what brought this hypothetical on your mind? You’ve always were the most assured that you’ll stop being hero at some point and move on”

Bless Kaldur to always know when to ask best-worst question. Danny wasn’t going to cry, so he wasn’t going to answer.

“We can’t help you if we don’t what’s wrong,” M’gann said softly, like she was just trying to remind him.

Something small hit his lap. A tear. When did it get here?

“It’s fine. It’s just a stupid thought”

“Okay. Tell us when you’re ready”

“Something suspicious is going on, I think it’s what we’re looking for,” Everyone needed Conner on their squad to get conversation back on not emotional track.

As it turned out it was indeed what they were looking for, and soon Danny got to express all of his pent up aggression in only a bit misplaced way.

“That was harsh”

“Shut up, this one doesn’t have pain receptors”

“Phantom has a bad day, huh?”

“You’re about to have worse,” he growled and punched guy until he stopped grinning.

It was quick work after that.

“Danny?”

Only bad side of Mindlink was that he couldn’t act like he was losing connection. It would be useful right now.

“Danny?”

“Not now”

“In the Bioship then. Not a minute later, am I clear?”

“Crystal”

He started calculating a way to get out before. He used to do it all the time, at the beginning. It was easier when Team didn’t know about his human side and they were holding each other at the arms length, but still. He could–

Conner landed right behind him and put hand on his shoulder. It wasn’t restrain, it wasn’t assuring. It was just there.

Here came his plans of escape.

“So–” Artemis started as soon as the door of Ship had closed “– what the fuck is wrong with you lately?”

“We all know it’s not nothing”

“I’m being overdramatic”

“About what?”

Danny just slumped forward and his face in hands.

“Danny”

“I have to retake year. I’m not even half way through highschool and I’m already failing and I- I just can’t do better. It’s not like I don’t have time to study, and I do try sometimes, but just as often I’m just being dumb and messing around, and I knew I failed some other tests, but last one? Last one I was sure I’ve got it, I was trying, I was trying so hard and I still fucked it up and if I can’t make it even when- even when I’m trying my best, then what is the point?”

He took a moment to breathe, to rub tearing eyes. He still wasn’t going to cry.

“I’m already kinda good at this hero thing, so I could just keep it up. I don’t think I’ll make it to the end of high school, so no good job for me, but maybe I could. I could have something, you know. Something useful. Something good. Maybe I can have some life after all”

Someone rubbed his back but he didn’t raise his head to see who.

“I didn’t want to let accident destroy any more of my life than it did, but I don’t think I can”

“Well, impossible sounds right about the task for us. We’ve got you”

Well fuck. That’s about that in not crying department.

[kkoga]

DO IT. DO THE HURT NO COMFORT. PLPSLSPLSPSLSPLS I LOVE ANGST!!!

-🎧

A/N : your wish is my command....

RAINY NIGHTS, sophia laforteza x fem!reader

Warning ! Hurt no comfort, toxic relationship, mentions of sensitive topics, not proofread

Disclaimer ! Everything written here is pure fiction. Every person is not a real portrayal of themselves.

Now playing ! Cologne by beabadobee

WC — I dont knkw bruh i wrote this and its 3 fucking am im not mentally sane lawl phones also 7 percent.

Synopsis ! After Sophia Laforteza fucks up multiple times, Y/n decides she's had enough. Time and time the girl had waited, but much to her dismay, all Sophia had done, was disappoint her.

Y/n shamefully exits the restaurant, feeling dozens of eyes on her. The girl had been waiting for her girlfriend, Sophia Laforteza, to show up to a date they've been planning for weeks now.

The first hour wasn't so bad. Maybe she had gotten stuck in traffic, or maybe she would be just a little late. The second hour was worse. At that point, waiters and waitresses had started asking her where her partner was. And what Y/n hated the most, was the fact that she had no answer to their questions.

Now here she was, after the fourth hour of waiting. It was currently 12 am, and much to the girl's luck, it had just started raining.

The girl could only sigh.

"What a great marvellous day! Not only does Sophia leave me waiting for our date, it starts raining right after I get kicked out! Absolutely hilarious!" Y/n mumbes to herself, tears beginning to well up.

"Maybe she just forgot. I mean, she's busy afterall..." The girl tried her best to convince herself that this was going to be a one time thing.

She was wrong.

Y/n bites her inner lip. It has been 2 hours since their designated sleepover. It's been weeks since Sophia had gone over to her house. So they'd been planning for a movie night. And tonight was that night. So why exactly has Sophia been ignoring her calls?

Y/n presses the call button once more, but to no avail, she was met with Sophia's voice mail for the nth time.

The popcorn was starting to get cold, and the ice cream was starting to melt. Y/n sighs. It's been two hours. Maybe she got caught up in an emergency schedule?

"Couldn't she just have told me...?" Y/n shakenly whispers to herself. This was the fourth time Sophia had stood her up this month alone.

Y/n begrudgingly placed the ice cream back in the fridge and seals the popcorn in a random container. The sound of rain keeping her grounded.

"It's okay. This will be the last time this happens."

Finally. Sophia had finally shown up to a hang out. Y/n had been waiting for the past month. The girl had greatly missed her girlfriend, and she hoped Sophia felt the same.

"Sophie! Hi!" Y/n ran up to Sophia, and hugged her as tight as she could. Afraid to let go, scared she might lose the one person able to cheer her up with a simple smile.

"Y/n! Baby! Hi, i missed you so much." Sophia hugged the girl back, and for a moment, Y/n thought,

"Finally. We're back to normal. Oh god, how I've missed my girl."

Y/n couldn't help the small but sweet smile that had formed.

It had been an hour since their hang out started, and apparently, Sophia had to go. Y/n felt sad, but knew it was her job, her dream. And Y/n would never get in the way of that.

As Sophia entered her car, Y/n bid goodbye to her girlfriend.

"Bye Sophie, miss you, and i love you." Y/n leans down for a cheek kiss, almost missing the unreadable expression Sophia had on her face.

"Yeah, bye." And with that, Sophia drives off to god knows where.

"No i love you too...? No... maybe she just forgot. It's fine." And suddenly, rain had started pouring. Y/n quickly ran for cover, but couldn't avoid looking like a somewhat wet puppy.

It was infact, not fine. It had been three months since that little mini date, and Sophia hadn't said the words "I love you". Atleast not without Y/n basically telling her to.

What went wrong? What did Y/n ever do? Did she offend Sophia? Did she do anything to form this... this gap between them?

Y/n felt so lost. So... confused. She was so sure she hadn't done anything. At least not anything she could remember. Well, she was going to find out tonight.

The door opens widely, in a swift manner. And in comes Sophia, sick and worried.

"Y/N, BABY, ARE YOU OKAY?? I came as soon as i got the text, I—" The panicked Sophia came in, expecting to see an injured or sick Y/n. But all she had found was Y/n sitting on the chair of one of her counters, with a stoic look on her face.

Sophia's breathe was heavy, like she had ran to get to Y/n's apartment.

"Why are you completely fine? You texted me it was an emergency Y/n, I was busy—!"

"Well, you always are, aren't you?" Y/n looks up to Sophia's eyes, and frustration begins to fill the Filipina.

"Excuse me? You know I'm constantly busy. For fucks sake, I'm an idol! You can't—"

"I know. I know what I signed up for, Laforteza. I know I'd never get in the way of your dreams. You would never even let me." Y/n gets off the stool, and faces her girlfriend.

"So what's your point! What, you call me here because you missed me? I was in a fucking meeting Y/n. With one of HYBE's officials!! Do you know how fucking important that is?" Sophia scratches her head in disbelief, her anger bubbling up faster than it ever has. Y/n sighs defeatedly.

"More important than me?"

Silence filled the apartment. What felt like hours were only a few measly seconds.

"The silence was more than enough, Laforteza. I'm tired. I am so fucking tired of you leaving me hanging. At first, it was a date here, a date there, but nowadays, it's like everything we plan just ends up with me waiting."

"But I'm trying Y/n! I'm trying my best for you, for my members, for my fucking dream. Why can't you just understand that?"

"Then answer this, Laforteza. When was the last time you had told me the words "I love you"? When was the last time you had willingly told me those three words."

Sophia tried to recollect, the Filipina had really tried her best. But the realization had hit her hard.

"Fucking THINK Laforteza. Give me a goddamned answer. When was the last time you had given me a sincere, loving, "I love you"?... ANSWER ME!"

"I... I can't remember...." Sophia had started tearing up. Why couldn't she fucking remember the last time she had said I love you to her own fucking girlfriend?

Y/n let out a laugh. But it wasn't the usual light and hearty laugh Sophia had always heard. This laugh sounded painful. It was like all of Y/n's vocal chords had suddenly forgotten what a laugh had sounded like.

After a few seconds, Y/n's laughing had turned into sobs.

"Do you know how many times I've had to shamefully walk out of a restaurant, or get kicked out? Sophia, everyone looked at me. Their eyes were so full of pity. The waiters and waitresses constantly checked up on me like I was some poor child, left behind by her mother. Countless times, Sophia. I endured it all, thinking it would be the last time."

Y/n's voice had started cracking, and the girl had made a face Sophia had never seen before. One filled with so much sadness, so much sorrow.

"But time and time again, you proved me wrong. Every date you stood up, every "I love you" left unanswered, destroyed me, Sophia."

"Baby... baby I'm so sorry, please—" Sophia tries to move closer to Y/n, but the girl pulls away.

"Don't. Don't ever call me baby ever again. You don't get the fucking right, Sophia."

"I'm so disappointed in you Sophia. I never thought you'd ever treat me this way. Your career may have excused a missing date or two. But seven in a row? Sophia, we've gone on three total dates for the past four month's. And we had planned seventeen. Seven fucking teen Sophia. You stood me up fourteen times, and that's only for the past four months."

"I.. please I'm so—"

"So let's end this."

"...what?"

This felt so surreal. Y/n had just asked her if they could end it. Sophia had felt her whole world crumble. She caused this? Has she really broken down the one person who had supported her through everything?

"No.. no, no we aren't. Please, just give me a chance to—"

"No, Laforteza. Get out. We're over."

Sophia laughs, hoping this was some sort of wicked sick dream.

"We aren't over Y/n. Please, I just—"

"We've been over for the past seven months, Laforteza. What we've had for those last few months was just me trying to keep us both on the same page. But a relationship requires two people. We can't keep going if your heart isn't in it, Laforteza."

Sophia couldn't help it. Her tears had burst out like there was no tomorrow. The girl hadn't cried like this for a long, long time.

"But.. but I need you Y/n, please..." At this point, the Filipina had gotten on her knees.

"No, you don't. Hell, you don't even want me. You just think you do. So please, get up and leave, before I say things I don't think I can take back."

"I can't just leave!"

"Yes you can. Leave. For the both of us, Sophie." The mention of her nickname was driving Sophia crazy.

"But I fucking love you Y/n!" .

Y/n looks at Sophia with a tired face.

"Do you really?"

Sophia looks at Y/n. A look of desperation displayed on her pretty face. Y/n hates how she's never going to see that face ever again. Hates how she's never going to kiss that pretty face to sleep ever again. Hates how those soft and comforting arms will never comfort her ever again. Hates how she will never wake up next to the love of her life ever again. Hates how Sophia will never be hers ever again. But she was okay with that. She knew it had to end one way or another. It was better this way.

And so, after more back and forth conversations, Sophia reluctantly leaves. Sophia closes the door, and Y/n locks it right after.

Y/n will never open up her heart for Sophia ever again. And the latter knows that. They were over. They were really over. Neither could believe it. The two fall to their knees, on opposite sides of the door. The sound of heavy rain masking the others cries.

Guess rainy nights were never their thing.

[vettelsvee]

THE CALL OF LOVE | Sebastian Vettel

Primary School Teacher!Sebastian Vettel x Primary School Teacher!Reader ↳ Teacher AU ⋆ Part of CLASSROOM GOSSIPS

SUMMARY: Seb is the cool, annoying, extroverted teacher, while you are the shy, introverted and perfectionist one. Seb phones you all the time because he wants to get closer with you somehow but, also, he knows that you suffer from pretty bad anxiety and wants to respect your boundaries. However, when you have to go to Seb's class and ask him for help after your classroom becomes pure chaos, he finds the perfect opportunity to become closer with you... only to find out that, definitely, you want to get closer with him as well even your anxiety says otherwise ↳ BASED ON THIS POST I MADE TODAY!

WORD COUNT: 4798

WARNINGS: Mentions of anxiety, curse words. Lots of fluff (I loved this Seb btw).

TAGLIST: @koalapastries @blushmimi @herdetectivetheorist @awnmaneez

VEE'S NOTES: Third Teacher!Seb fic in a row since you asked! Hope you liked it as much as I loved writing it! Thank you for all the love you're giving to this, really, I'm so grateful <3 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

Although it wasn’t enough for many, you were more than happy being a teacher at one of the most well-known schools in Heppenheim, a small town in Germany. 

Now that you had achieved your dream, all you wanted was things to flow perfectly. The main problem? Your anxiety and constant need for perfection, which were the most notable things about you. On top of that, there was the strict routine that was almost impossible to deviate from. However, the real problem lay in everything related to socializing... not with your students or their parents, but with the rest of the teachers.

Sebastian Vettel, the teacher of the other 2nd grade class, had also started working there that same year. Although you initially thought your relationship would be a calm one, the reality was far from that. Seb was the complete opposite of you: a walking chaos, with more than enough confidence and a charm that made him some kind of superhero to his students.

You tried your best to keep a professional relationship with him, but it was impossible. When you wanted to do a project on biodiversity with perfectly structured activities aligned with the curriculum, Seb preferred to take them outside to let them see it for themselves. If you thought it would be a great idea for them to write a small essay about Christmas, Seb preferred to show them a movie because, in his words, “they would have time to write when they’re older.”

And if that wasn’t enough, Sebastian had the annoying habit of calling your classroom phone several times a day with ridiculous questions:

“Miss Y/L/N speaking,” you answered as calmly as you could, while still supervising your students coloring.

“Y/N!” Sebastian shouted from the other end of the line. “Hey, quick question... Do our students need permission from their parents to go out?”

“To go out? Do you mean… recess?” you frowned.

“Of course!”

“No, Sebastian, the kids don’t need permission to go out during break. It's mandatory,” you added with a hint of sarcasm.

“Great, thanks! By the way, did you know the hold music is super cute? I thought you'd want to know since it's as cute as you and…”

You hung up before he could continue.

The next day, the same thing: Sebastian called just to ask whether necessary needed one "c" or two. The day after, it was to ask whether the coffee in the teacher's lounge was free.

It was never anything serious. There was never an emergency or anything like that. It was simply Sebastian Vettel asking you the most stupid things, things he already knew perfectly well. Despite that, you forced yourself to answer the phone, trying to calm your anxiety while giving him a quick, convincing response to get him off the line, before hanging up.

You knew you could ignore him, but deep down, this strange routine had become your favorite part of the day.

And, unbeknownst to you, for Sebastian, it had too.

Seb knew exactly how you felt about him; about any interaction with your colleagues, in fact. He was fully aware that you were a little scared of speaking in public. He could tell by moments like when you nervously played with a pink pen with butterflies every time you had to speak during staff meetings, or when during the Christmas play, just before going on stage with him and your students, you excused yourself by saying you were about to vomit... something that wasn’t entirely an excuse.

To him, you were the brightest person he had ever met. The way you taught, how you cared for your students, how he noticed you watching him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention... Seb knew that being this persistent could have the opposite effect on you, but as much as he wanted to take a step forward and maybe become a friend, he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or pressure you into anything you didn’t want.

So, Sebastian decided to stop calling you.

You were puzzled when the phone didn’t ring. At first, you considered it a good thing, but as the hours went by, you realized something was missing.

The day felt endless, something that rarely happened to you. The same went for your mood, which had plummeted. And as if that weren’t enough, the art class turned into an absolute disaster, and you didn’t know how to manage it, no matter how hard you tried to calm your anxiety and think of alternatives to wrap it up as soon as possible.

Your students only needed a few minutes working on their own, making animals out of paper-mâché, while you corrected math tests, to turn the class into a total mess. There were strips of paper everywhere. The younger kids had glue all over their hands, leaving trails everywhere. One of the blue paint cans had even fallen to the floor, spreading quickly.

To make matters worse, when you tried calling Sebastian to see if he could bring you a mop, the phone decided to stop working.

You sighed and looked at the door separating your classroom from his, realizing that you had no choice but to admit to yourself that, as hard as it was to ask, you needed help.

Without saying anything to your students, you took a deep breath and shyly cracked open the door.

Sebastian was sitting at his desk, gesturing dramatically with his hands while his students stared at him as he seemed to be telling them a story.

"So, there I was, in front of a goat, after losing my parents. And do you know what happened next?" he said, walking dramatically and opening his eyes wide.

“What happened, Mr. Vettel?!” the kids shouted.

“The goat ate the sandwich my mom had made me for the trip.”

The class burst into laughter.

You couldn’t help it and laughed too, stopping when the embarrassment of having to interrupt the class just to ask for help washed over you once again. You couldn’t just walk in there like it was nothing, and—

“Oh my goodness! Look, kids, we have a surprise guest!”

You paled. The 30 second graders all turned towards you at once, their faces lighting up as if they’d seen an alien.

Then, they started chanting your name and running toward you to hug you, forcing you to step inside. Sebastian hopped down from his desk and approached you, arms crossed and wearing a smile that, if you were honest with yourself, you were dying to see.

“What do I owe the pleasure, Miss Y/L/N?”

You clenched your fists, knowing there was no way around it.

“Well… I need your help, Mr. Vettel,” you admitted in a low voice.

Sebastian blinked. Although it took him completely by surprise, he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he turned to his students.

“Alright, kiddos. I need you to be really good and stay quiet for a moment while I help our favorite teacher, okay? I’m right here, so if I hear any shouting, I’ll take away your snacks and Friday’s movie tradition.”

A collective gasp spread through the class, but Sebastian didn’t have to say anything else. Immediately, all the kids went back to their seats and pulled out books to read.

To your surprise, they didn’t make another sound.

“Come on, Miss Y/L/N, lead the way.”

You followed his lead, and then it was you who invited Seb to come in. Once he stepped inside, the German had no words. Instead, his eyes started to scan the room.

“Wow…”

“Yeah, I know…” you sighed.

Sebastian slowly turned to face you, trying not to laugh. Of all the chaos, what surprised him most was that one of the kids, named Martin, had his shirt stuck to the chair, covered in glue, and three desks were completely covered in the same blue paint that was on the floor. To top it off, the stain you had seen moments ago had spread not only on the floor but also on the clothes and faces of many of your students.

That’s when you realized the worst.

A group of girls was standing, whispering to each other, around the hamster cage in the class... which was empty.

“Y/N…” Seb lowered his voice. “Tell me the hamster’s in the cage, but I don’t see it…”

“It’s somewhere in the classroom. The problem is, I don’t know where, and there’s only half an hour left before the day ends…” You admitted, feeling quite embarrassed.

“Are you telling me there’s a dwarf hamster loose around here?”

“Are you going to help me or what?” you snapped, frustrated, glaring at him. “Look, Sebastian… We don’t have much time before we have to leave, and if I don’t get the kids out at the exact time, just like they were brought in, you know the parents are going to go crazy…”

“Relax, Y/N. I got it.”

You didn’t have much idea what could be going through Sebastian’s head, let alone how he’d manage to fix this, but you tried to relax and give him a chance for everything to return to normal little by little.

To your surprise, that’s exactly what happened.

Not only did he divide the children into small groups to do simple tasks, like going to the bathroom to clean up, looking for the class hamster (which they found almost immediately, curled up beside a cabinet), or collecting the materials they’d used and putting them away, but he also took both classes to the school exit so you wouldn’t have to face desperate parents asking why their kids looked like they’d just been on a jungle expedition.

The bell marking the end of school had rung half an hour ago, and you were fully aware that most teachers had probably packed up and gone home by now. Sebastian hadn’t even appeared to tell you that his students had returned safely to their parents, and, for a reason you knew all too well, that disappointed you.

You sighed, trying to let go of those thoughts and illusions that shouldn’t matter so much. Instead, you focused on the pile of papers on your desk, the art supplies that still hadn’t been put away, and the paint that, no matter how hard you tried to clean it off the floor, seemed impossible to remove. You decided to calm down and start with something simple, like putting away the materials and picking up tiny pieces of paper from the floor.

“Do you know school’s over for today, right?”

You turned to the door. Sebastian was leaning against it, arms crossed and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He threw his backpack on the floor and walked over to sit next to you, helping you pick up the papers without any explanation.

“No… I didn’t hear you come in…” you confessed in surprise. And I wasn’t expecting you, you thought.

“That’s because I’m as sneaky as a ninja. The kids tell me that all the time,” he smiled, glancing at you sideways.

Seb continued his task, silent, scanning the classroom. It was no longer the disaster it had been just an hour ago. Now, the desks were perfectly grouped in fives, the class materials seemed to finally be in place, and, to your surprise, the stains had disappeared from everywhere.

“Y/N, you should go home,” Sebastian told you, standing up and helping you to do the same.

“I just need to finish cleaning up a little more…”

“Or you could not do that,” he interrupted.

You let out a small laugh for the first time that day, carefree. You were nervous and exhausted, and Seb knew that perfectly well.

“I just want to make sure everything’s perfect for tomorrow,” you admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“We managed to not kill a hamster with twenty-something kids running around and stopped the paint from getting on the walls, and you’re telling me you want to make sure everything’s perfect for tomorrow?”

“Well… yes,” you answered, looking down and biting your lip.

“That’s pretty adorable, honestly,” Sebastian said. Realizing what he’d just said, and that it might make you uncomfortable, he corrected himself. “I mean, as in your passion for teaching and everything…”

Stop fooling yourself and be honest with her, Sebastian.

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s that, but…” you tried to articulate, your cheeks completely red.

“Well, the thing is: what else can I help you with?” Sebastian asked, unable to stop smiling. The fact that you were embarrassed by something so simple seemed so cute to him that he couldn’t stop looking at you.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, what can I help you with, Y/N?” he repeated slowly.

“Well… the truth is, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” Sebastian interrupted. “But I want to help you.”

You stared at him, unable to respond. You were used to helping people, not being helped yourself, and that left you speechless.

“What’s left to do?” Vettel insisted with care, moving a little closer to you while still keeping his distance.

“If you want, you can put the exams on the desk into the folders beside them,” you finally said, giving up.

“On it, Miss Y/L/N.”

“But really, Sebastian, you don’t have to—”

“If you tell me again you don’t need help, I’ll have to punish you with no recess.”

You burst out laughing, and to Sebastian, it sounded like pure medicine. For the first time that day, you didn’t feel like a total failure.

You worked in complete silence, letting time pass as you finished organizing everything. When you were finally done, you slumped into the chair and started checking your emails, wondering if any parent had decided to make your day even worse by sending a complaint after the day you’d had. To your surprise, there was nothing. What did surprise you, though, was that Seb came in with two cups of hot chocolate and a bag of sweets that, even more surprisingly, were your favorites.

“Here you go,” he said, offering you one of the cups while placing the bag on the table. “You were so focused that I didn’t want to bother you by saying I was leaving. And, well… I also wanted to brighten your day a little.”

You thanked him with a smile and didn’t hesitate to try the chocolate, which tasted like a real victory after such a bittersweet day.

Then, you closed your computer, put it in your bag, and, to your surprise and his, turned your chair to face him.

“What’s going on?” you said, noticing that Seb was looking at you… strangely.

“Nothing. It’s just… you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Sebastian cleared his throat, not knowing what else to say. Instead, he shook his head and set his mind on doing what he had promised himself when he started working there: to try to become friends with you.

“Tell me about Miss Y/L/N’s teaching philosophy,” he finally said.

“Excuse me?” you hesitated.

“Come on, let’s go. I know you have one. You take this job too seriously not to have some kind of ritual or something to make everything go perfectly…”

“Except for today,” you replied.

Seb didn’t say anything because he knew how much you’d keep beating yourself up. Instead, he took a chocolate from the bag he had brought, unwrapped it, and placed it beside you. You finally accepted it without complaint, but with a smile in return.

“Well… I guess I want them to feel safe,” you started to say. “I want them to know that no matter what happens, it’s okay to make mistakes or not be perfect sometimes… I want them to know that I’m here for whatever they need, and that they can be great people in the future.”

“That’s amazing, Y/N,” Seb nodded slowly, unable to take his eyes off you.

“It’s not a big deal…”

“Of course it is,” he replied. “You care a lot, don’t you?”

“More than you can imagine…” you swallowed, feeling a little vulnerable.

“I can see that perfectly, yes.”

“Really?”

“Seb nodded, playing with his mug.”

“You’re always the first one to arrive, and I’d swear the last one to leave. You do the most original activities and, at the same time, try not to die in the process, even though today was the exact opposite,” you both laughed. “You want to be perfect for them and try to give your best.”

“Is that bad?” you asked cautiously, tensing up a little.

“Not at all,” Seb answered immediately. “But sometimes I think you should stop being so hard on yourself and just go with the flow. You know... let things just happen by themselves.”

You were about to answer, but he continued:

“You’re a great teacher, Y/N. You don’t need to prove it to anyone but yourself, okay?”

Something in your chest tightened. You weren’t used to hearing things like that, especially not from your colleagues.

Or maybe you never gave yourself the chance for someone to recognize your well-done work, thinking it had never been, and would never be, enough.

You kept talking to Sebastian about a bit of everything, feeling right at home. The hours passed, and between questions about how you both ended up being teachers, what motivated you to dedicate your life to it, and how you both ended up in Heppenheim, it was already 7 PM.

You glanced at the clock and immediately stood up, quickly starting to gather your things, which made Seb alarmed.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, worried.

“I should go…” you said, grabbing your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder. “I need to catch the bus before it gets too late. It’s the last one of the day and…”

“Wait,” he interrupted you. “You take the bus home?”

“Uh... yeah?”

“This late?”

“I’ve been doing it since I moved here, so it’s nothing new.”

“And no one’s offered to take you home? Not even to share fuel expenses and stuff?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Of course it is,” he replied. “From now on, I’ll take you home.”

Your eyes widened, surprised.

“Sebastian, you really don’t have to…”

“I’m not going to argue with you,” he cut you off, taking your backpack, offering his hand, and leading you out of the classroom, making sure to turn off the lights before you left.

“I don’t want to be a bother…”

“Do you think you’re a bother just because I want to take you home and make sure you arrive safe?” he asked, stopping in the middle of the hallway and still looking at you. “I’d be a terrible friend if I let you go alone on the bus, especially this late with all the drunk creeps around.”

You froze. Friend.

“Come on, let’s go,” Seb spoke again. This time, noticing you were shivering, he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from your nervousness, so he decided to put his jacket over your shoulders. “The day you let me help you a little more, we’ll be the best team the world’s ever seen.”

You didn’t say anything else until you reached Sebastian's car. Not even when you sat inside after Seb opened the door for you and turned the heat on full blast.

“Well…” Seb broke the silence as he placed his hands on the steering wheel. “Where to, Y/L/N?”

“You want me to guide you all the way?”

“Do you expect me to guess the way?” Vettel joked. “Y/N, I’ve got balls, but none of them are crystal, so…”

Embarrassed, and especially starting to overthink whether Seb would start judging you not only for your answer but for the entire day you spent together, you simply gave him the directions.

Seb, knowing you might be feeling down and, unlike the whole afternoon when you talked about everything, seeing you retreat into yourself again, started asking you a bit of everything. Why did you decide to move to Heppenheim, such a small town? What was your favorite place? Did you like your neighborhood?

You weren’t used to that flood of questions, and especially not to people showing interest in you. Since you were very young, you always felt left out, like you didn’t belong to any group...

But with Seb, it was different. It was like he actually cared about you, and you couldn’t help but feel incredibly good about it.

“I like the new neighborhood. Quite cozy and nice...”

Seb parked the car in a small free spot in front of the apartment block where you lived. Then, he turned toward you with a smile, placing his arm behind your seat.

“It’s very quiet, which is great when I need to grade or when I just want to read and relax.”

“Oh, are you one of those?” Seb teased.

“One of what?”

“One of those teachers who reads all the time.”

“Seb, we’re teachers,” you were surprised to call him by his nickname so naturally, but you didn’t regret it. “Of course, I read all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but what I mean is, do you read for fun?” he corrected himself. “Do you read those dirty books or the inspirational ones that tell you how to be the perfect teacher?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you hit him on the arm.

“I read for fun.”

“That confirms it, you do read those dirty books where they’re constantly... you know… having sex in the dirtiest ways…”

“They’re called romance novels, Seb,” you corrected him, ignoring his comment. “The last thing I read was a romantic novel, okay? With no sex in it, by the way.”

“I knew you were a hopeless romantic…”

“I don’t know why I even told you anything…” you whispered, hiding your face in your hands.

Seb wanted to reply with something more, to joke around with you, but he knew that for today, it had been enough. What mattered was that you had felt comfortable and, most of all, opened up a little more with him that day.

Silence fell between you both again, but neither of you dared to say anything else. Not even you, who had yawned a couple of times and were dying to get home and get into bed without even having dinner, made the effort to get out of the car.

You didn’t know why you were so hesitant to leave. It was easy: thank Seb, say goodnight, get out of the car, and walk into the building without waiting to see if he drove off. Instead, you decided to stay there, by his side, your hands resting on your legs, feeling safer and, above all, happier than you had in a long time.

Seb didn’t say anything either. Instead, he focused on the streetlights, growing brighter with each passing moment, while his fingers drummed on the leather steering wheel.

Finally, you were the one who decided to take the step, to both your surprise:

“Well... I felt really comfortable today,” you admitted, with a calm voice.

Seb turned toward you suddenly, surprised.

You swallowed nervously, trying not to let the anxiety consume you and, above all, trying to stop the embarrassment from taking over. 

"Well, I was thinking that... we could do this once in a while..."

Sebastian's lips curled into a smirk.

"What, reorganize a class and try not to die in the process? And not killing a hamster?"

"No, I meant...," you hesitated, then looked at him shyly. "I meant… spending time together. Outside of school."

That caught Sebastian off guard, but he couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across his face. He hadn’t expected you to say that, especially not after the chaotic day you'd both had.

"Wait..." he murmured, searching for the right words. "Are you telling me that... you want to spend time together, and not during class hours?"

You felt like you were going to die from embarrassment. Nervous and a little regretful, you weren’t going to back down though. You held your backpack tight, like some kind of protection, while fidgeting nervously in your seat.

"Well... I felt really comfortable today with you, and I thought maybe we could do it again. You know… grab a coffee, go for a walk..."

Sebastian didn't say anything. He just stared at you, unable to recognize the person in front of him, yet delighted that maybe, with a little bit of help from him, you had stepped out of your comfort zone, even if you didn’t seem entirely comfortable.

"Forget what I just said..." you mumbled.

You bit your lip, lowering your gaze, unable to look at him in the face. Sebastian, however, couldn’t have been happier in that moment.

"Not a chance. I like your idea. Actually, I’m more than happy with it."

His voice was calmer now, which gave you the courage to look at him. His blue eyes, which normally made you nervous and stole your words, now made you feel the same, but for an entirely different reason. You felt pressure in your chest, but this time it was nothing like the anxiety or fear of being judged and rejected.

"Hey," Sebastian spoke again, gently taking your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze. "Since, from what I’ve just heard, you don't mind spending time with me..."

"Seb, please, don’t ruin this moment..."

You narrowed your eyes, instinctively leaning toward his lips, and Sebastian didn’t hesitate to close the distance, pressing his lips to yours. At first, it was soft, like you both were making sure that was really happening not just in your minds. When Sebastian felt you sigh against his lips, something in him clicked. His hand, still resting on your chin, slid to your cheek, caressing it tenderly, while his other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

You let yourself go, feeling butterflies in your stomach for the first time in a long time, not because you wanted to disappear, but because you felt more alive than ever.

When you finally pulled apart, Sebastian rested his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

"Tell me this isn’t a mistake, Seb..." you whispered, still confused about what just happened.

"If it is, I hope you, Miss Perfection, don’t mind."

You laughed nervously, filled with emotions and confusion, but mostly happiness.

"So... what now?" you asked, breathless.

"I love the idea of kissing you in my car like a couple of teenagers, but I think it’s getting too late and we have to get up early tomorrow. So, I have an idea."

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop smiling.

"I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. How does that sound?"

"What?"

"Tomorrow's Thursday, Y/N. We have to go to class," Sebastian explained, as if you didn’t already know what he meant. "If I pick you up, you won’t have to wake up extra early to catch the bus."

Your heart skipped a beat. Yes, it was a simple offer, nothing extraordinary, but to you, it felt like more... like Sebastian wanted something more with you.

Like you mattered to Sebastian Vettel.

Seb saw the hesitation, the doubt in your eyes. He leaned in gently, and after placing a short but tender kiss on your lips, he spoke again.

"I know I don’t have to do this, but I want to," he assured you.

You swallowed hard.

Sebastian was serious. It wasn’t some bad joke like many other guys had made in the past. He really meant it.

"Okay," was all you could say.

Sebastian’s smile lit up his face.

"Great, princess. I’ll see you at seven-thirty here tomorrow. And I know it’s not necessary, but I have to remind you: please, don’t you dare being late."

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you opened the car door and stepped out, a smile forming on your lips like never before.

Then, you hesitated at the door, but you were ready to, for once in your life, stop trying to be so perfect.

"Goodnight, Seb," you said softly. "And... Thank you. For everything."

"Sleep well, best teacher in the whole world."

You walked toward your building, and when you were inside, you turned around to see if Sebastian had left. To your surprise, he was still there, making sure you had entered safely.

You both waved to each other, and as you climbed the stairs to the fifth floor, you realized that, for the first time, the anxiety about tomorrow wasn’t paralyzing you. 

Instead, it was tomorrow, alongside Sebastian Vettel, what were making you feel alive.

[mayajadewrites]

── .✦ Renaissance - Levi Ackerman .✦ ──

🪽 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ levi x fem reader

summary: levi leaves you in the underground for the scouts, only for him to find you again in marley when the war is over. however, nothing about you is the same as it once was. you are not the same person you were 12 years ago. cw: canon universe, smut, fluff, yearning ao3 authors note: there are several things in this story that are not canon to the original AOT storyline (like Levi needing a wheelchair) but I will warn you if/when those things come up.

chapter notes: none! finally get some dialogue with these two. let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading!

tag list: @ackerboi, @staarflowerr, @midw1nter, @glads-stuff, @nxcxllxsevens, @qrhttp, @deniixlovezelda, @midnightwriter21, @levislegislation, @huriareads, @levikeigosdearest, @nikanaka

preface - chapter one - chapter two - chapter three

Silently, you walk into the tea shop, passing Levi and avoiding his gaze. The shop looks different than before - more decorations, and employees.

"Falco, Captain Levi said that you can't put that tea out yet! It's special -"

"Hush, brats." Levi spoke as he closed the doors. "Gabi, Falco, we have our first customer."

You narrow your eyes at Levi, then looking at the two kids. Well, at least you assume they're kids. They look old enough.

"Welcome to Kuchel's!" The blonde, Falco, says with a welcoming smile. "What kind of tea can I get you? Or coffee?"

"Tea. Just black tea with milk would be great." You fish your wallet out of your purse, pulling out a bill. You feel Levi's hand push your hand with the money down, shaking his head.

"I can't be a customer if I don't buy the tea." You crane your neck slightly, moving your hand away from his. You hand Falco the money, giving him a slight bow and smile before sitting at a table, waiting for the tea.

As always, Levi's footsteps are silent as he sits at your table, dropping down to the chair as he gives you an icy stare.

"Why didn't you want to service me?" He blurted, causing you surprise. He draped his arm over his chair, looking rather relaxed.

"Levi, not here. Please -" You put your hand up, hoping he'll drop it.

He doesn't.

"No, tell me why. Tell me why you wouldn't let me have you for the night."

You furrow your eyebrows, hoping the kids won't hear what he's saying. Your mouth forms into a frown, speaking softer than before.

"I'm not talking about this with you. Since you didn't answer any of my questions, I'm not answering yours." You look up to see Falco walking towards the table, gently setting the cup of tea in front of you.

"Captain Levi said this is your favorite tea, I hope its -"

"Falco. Leave." If looks could kill, Falco would be dead.

As Gabi and Falco go into the back room of the shop, Levi turns his attention back to you. "I'll answer your questions if you answer mine."

When you finally, finally look into his eyes, up close like this, it takes everything in you not to say fuck it and kiss this man senseless.

"Fine. Me first then." You take a sip of the tea, nodding in approval. "This tea is delicious, by the way."

"I know." He tapped his finger on the table impatiently. "Ask."

With a sigh, you lean back in the chair and cross your arms over your chest, bracing yourself for his answers. "Why didn't you come back for me?"

As if he was expecting that would be the first question, he immediately answered. "It wasn't safe for you to come back with me. They would've forced you to be a scout, and I couldn't have that -"

"So you didn't even bother to check on me? Say hi?"

"One question per turn." He cleared his throat, mirroring your pose and crossing his arms over his chest. "Why didn't you sleep with me that night?"

A sharp breath left your nostrils as you close your eyes briefly. "It didn't feel right to do that. My job... it's not for pleasure. I do it for money, and if I slept with you for money, it would feel wrong."

"So would you sleep with me for free?"

Your eyes dart over to him, a scowl on your lips. "One question per turn."

You adjust yourself in your seat, taking another sip of your tea. "Why didn't you at least check on me, Levi?"

"I did." He said sharply.

"No you didn't. I never saw you. Don't lie to me -"

"I did check on you. How do you think I knew you would work at a brothel?"

You're... dumbfounded. Stunned.

"B-but I didn't see you."

"That was the whole point. If you saw me, I knew I wouldn't be able to say no to you and would have to bring you back with me. And that would be selfish." He adjusted himself in his seat, clearing his throat. "I also had my cadets check on you too. When you kept moving from town to town, it became more difficult to find you."

He... he looked for you? He had his soldiers look for you?

Your hands balled into a fist, your nails digging into your palm as you look at him. "You saw all the shit I had to go through, and you thought that that would be better than being with you?"

"Yes." His icy gray eyes found yours, holding your gaze for longer than you would have hoped. "I was going on missions, possibly not coming back. I would never forgive myself if you got hurt, or if I had to leave you alone... again."

You let out a sigh, un-balling your fists as you take a deep breath. "It was really that bad?"

"I see that we're not doing the one question per turn rule." He rolls his eyes, tapping his index finger on the table. "It was war. Every mission I lost soldiers. I lost my comrades, and my friends."

"You had friends?"

"Shut it." His eyes were half lidded and narrow as he spoke. "I lost most of my squad. I almost died. Hence..." He pointed to his eye, then his hand.

When you looked down at his hand, you saw how cold he looked. His pale skin underneath the bandages, the way his thumb slightly shakes.

You bring your hands to his, taking it gently as you inspect it, your touch so gentle like he was a fragile flower petal. Then you look at his face, the scars that haven't fully healed, but are on their way.

You press the pad of your thumb to the scar, closing your eyes when you make contact with his skin. Almost as if you could feel all the pain he's been through.

He closed his eyes, taking a sharp breath in as you touched his face. As you lean in closer, your eyes flutter open to look at his skin a bit closer.

"Did you ever find love?" You whisper, your hand almost trembling. "In the scouts, did you?"

Levi's eyes softened ever-so-slightly, leaning into your touch before shaking his head. "No time for love in war."

You roll your eyes, moving back slightly as you place your hand back on the table. "So you were just going to sleep with me? Just like that?"

"I've always wanted my first time to be with you."

You freeze. First time?

Your heartbeat quickened as your breathing got slight sporadic, your eyes darting around his face. "There's no way. You didn't -"

"I'm serious." He looked at you, a piece of his hair in front of his eyes as he sighed, rolling his shoulders back. "Not something I'm necessarily proud of, but -"

You look away from him, a frown on your face as a blush graces your cheeks. "I never thought you would want me after what I've done. The men -"

"Hey." He brings his hand to yours, holding it gently to get your attention. "You're no less of a person because of what you do for work."

You gulp, looking in his eyes before nodding slowly, not moving your hand from his. "I've... never made love before."

"Made love? Yes you have. You -"

"No." You immediately shake your head, moving your hand away from his to take another sip of your tea, which is almost cold at this point. "Making love and having sex are different. When I... do my job, I have no emotion. I'm there for a transaction. But making love... well, I've heard its much better. You and your partner are in sync, emotions are involved, and everything is just better."

Levi nods as he listens, mentally taking notes. "So you've never made love."

"Right."

He nods again.

Then, you nod.

As you mimic him, he gives you the slightest smile. You took a mental picture of the view. His blue-gray eyes, the way the corner of his mouth turned up, his bangs in his face.

"I've missed you." You whisper, leaning in slightly closer to him, leaning over the table as you push your tea cup slightly.

His eyes wander over your face, drinking it in as you lean in closer to him. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a whisper. "You have no idea -" He gently pressed his hand to your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin. You shudder slightly at the contact, not used to being touched with since gentleness.

As you lean in more, feeling like a magnet to him, the door to the shop swings open.

"Captain Levi! I didn't know today was opening day!" A man with a buzzcut pushes his way through the door, raising an eyebrow at your table. "Captain? Who is -"

Levi gently pushes himself away from you, clearing his throat as he stands up. "Connie, has anyone told you you're too damn loud." His back is now to you, almost shielding you from Connie's curious gaze.

Soon, a handful of other people showed up - presumably members of the scouts since they all addressed Levi as Captain Levi.

You heard the names Jean, Armin, Annie and Mikasa. You take one last sip of the tea before bringing the cup to the counter. The group looked at you, then at Levi.

"If you brats know what's good for you you won't ask me any dumb questions." He nodded at you, taking your cup as he looks at you apologetically.

Gabi and Falco come back out, smiling as they talk to the group of scouts. You wave goodbye to them, then giving Levi a timid wave.

When you leave the shop, you turn around once more to take in the view of the shop-front. The people of Marley started to trickle in, all of them excited for this new tea shop, some of them there just to be in the presence of the amazing Captain Levi Ackerman.

In a sea of people, Levi's only looking at you.

[marauder-misprint]

if you’re up for more angst, what about remus seriously injuring the reader while in a werewolf form! (sorry but im a sucker for angst 😝 especially remus, since the tragedy of his character is often played off [esp. his ‘werewolfness’] and i love the way you write him, hard to find good potrayed moony fics 😭)

Angst! Angst! Angst! Thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy this Moony Angst

The attack

Remus Lupin x reader

4.3k words

cw: angst, werewolf attack, angst, no happy ending

If you weren’t so close with the Marauders, you probably would’ve never noticed. Those nights where the four of them stayed in the common room until late and they were the only ones still up, as even you had to go to bed. Or the nights where they all seemed to turn in extra early yet were exhausted in the morning. Those mornings when they looked far worse for wear and failed to give a reasonable explanation. 

You knew they went somewhere. You had an epiphany late one night on something for a prank and instead of just writing it down, you jumped out of bed and ran to the boys’ dormitory. It was at least 1 a.m. and all of their beds were empty. It didn’t look like they had been slept in. The room was just deserted. 

If you weren’t so close with the Marauders, you probably wouldn’t have cared. But you were so you did. You asked them about it. They avoided each question more carefully than the last. As determined as you were to get answers, they seemed more so to hide whatever they were doing. 

Eventually, you dropped the topic, but your curiosity never waned. You started to randomly check their dorm. Creepy and weird? Yes and you knew it. But they were hiding something and you would be damned if you didn’t figure it out. 

You didn’t have information yet to see if there was a pattern. You just got lucky one night. You were sitting in the common room alone, tucked into a corner with a book and a cozy blanket. You honestly had half a mind to just sleep where you sat. But then there was movement on the other side of the room. 

Remus was leaving the common room and it was well after curfew. It was also past report time for any prefect duties. Where was he going and why? You pondered it for a moment and then heard the shuffling of feet. There was no one there. You thought you were going crazy. The sound was definitely where.

“Shit,” a voice hissed and you saw a flash of shoes nearing the portrait hole. 

You’d recognize those combat boots anywhere: Sirius. You suddenly remember hearing James say offhandedly that he has a cloak of invisibility. You had thought he was joking but maybe not? With the opening and closing of the portrait, you sprang up, ditched your book and blanket and grabbed your cloak which was draped over a chair near you. You had to follow them… somehow. 

Outside of the common room, you stand silently, trying to hear footsteps over the Fat Lady’s chastising. The faintest of sounds came from a nearby staircase and you followed it. You trailed the sound while trying to stay far enough away to not be caught. It was a difficult task being that you couldn’t see exactly where they were. Then you heard voices around the corner. 

Remus and Madam Pomfrey. 

Hushed voices but still recognizable. Even better for you, they didn’t have a cloak so you could see where they were going. You watched them head for a door so you moved to look out the closest window. They approached the Whomping Willow and Pomfrey cast a freezing spell on it. Curious. You turned away from the window for a second to gather your thoughts. Why on earth would they be interacting with the Whomping Willow at night? When you looked back, Remus was gone and Pomfrey was heading back to the castle. You stayed hidden until she was back inside and passed you. 

You’ve mostly forgotten about the other boys and the fact that they might still be in the vicinity. There weren’t any footsteps to remind you of their presence. It took you a second to work up the courage to go outside. You froze the tree like Pomfrey had done. You took slow steps forward, not knowing what to expect. Then you spotted the hole in the ground at the base of the tree. Curious. You inspected it briefly before sliding down into it. 

Darkness surrounded you. You were tempted to cast Lumos so you could see where you landed, but then you remembered that you’re following Remus and you want to stay hidden. There were echoes of something down the passage, but you took it slowly. You felt the wall as you walked and tried not to make any noise yourself. When you reached the end of the passage, you found yourself in a broken, beaten house. Horrid noises came from the upper floor. And then you saw it. A large wolf. Even worse, it saw you. 

It didn’t waste any time jumping down on top of you. You screamed. It’s all you could do. First in fear, then in pain. Claws raked down your body. Sharp, white hot pain engulfed your entire being. 

The last things you saw before passing out were a large black dog and a stag bearing down on the wolf, forcing it to back away from you. 

---

You woke up in the infirmary. At least that’s what you figured based off of the smell and the brightness around you. You couldn’t move because your whole body felt numb. 

“Poppy! She’s awake!” Professor McGonagall called from the side of your bed. 

You heard footsteps rushing toward you.

“You are not to move, Miss. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re alive,” Madam Pomfrey’s stern voice said. “I’ve applied a numbing potion so you shouldn’t be able to feel most of your body for a while. Blink once if you understand.” You blinked. “Blink again if you’re in pain.” You didn’t blink. 

You had never felt more confused and scared in your life. Somehow, being there and unable to move was more frightening than the wolf attacking you. Merlin, why was there a bloodthirsty wolf so close to the grounds? What was it doing in a house with a dog and a deer? You had so many questions.

“Minerva,” Pomfrey said curtly before the sound of footsteps told you she left. 

Your firm teacher spoke with uncertainty, the first time you’ve ever heard her do so. “You were attacked… by a werewolf. I’m not going to ask why you were out of bed and where you were. I’m not going to take away points or assign detention, although, believe me, I’d be well within my right to do so. The… the damage from the attack is quite extensive. Like Poppy said, it’s a miracle you survived. And that you weren’t bitten.” She took a shaky breath. “Werewolf scratches scar deeply. And it is a lot.”

You had one thing going on in your mind now: What the fuck?

---

The next few days passed by in a blur. You were in and out of consciousness with varying ability to talk, see and move. Madam Pomfrey was reapplying numbing potions and giving you potions to lessen the pain. You cried when you were finally able to see the damage. You had deep scarring on your left arm, across your face and chest and down both your legs; there was minor scarring on your right arm. Your back seemed to be the only part of you untouched by the werewolf you encountered. 

Pomfrey told you that you had people asking to visit you, but you weren’t ready to face anyone yet. You weren’t ready for anyone to see you like this. 

“She’s not taking visitors. If she changes her mind, I’ll send someone to get you,” you could hear her tell someone at the doors to the infirmary. 

There were overlapping voices that protested. You couldn’t place the voices, nor could you see who it was due to the curtains that you kept drawn around your bed. 

“Go to class, the four of you. I promise, when she’s ready, you’ll be one of the first to know.”

The door closed with slam and Pomfrey muttered to herself as she returned to her office. The only people you had seen were her, McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore. Dumbledore asked you what you remembered of the attack. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t want to admit that you followed Remus from the castle and into the tunnel. You didn’t want to tell him about the stag and dog who saved you. So you told him nothing. As far as anyone was concerned, you remembered nothing of your attack or how you ended up outside the castle. 

A few days later, you told Madam Pomfrey that you would take visitors if they came. Then you asked how long you’d have to stay in the infirmary and she told you until the next full moon, just to guarantee that you were safe. You sighed and nodded. All you could think about was the assignments you were falling behind on. 

As soon as lessons were over, James, Peter and Sirius were pounding on the infirmary door. Pomfrey let them in but stopped them right away.

“I assume you boys heard what happened?” she asked in a hushed voice, but you heard her anyway.

You didn’t hear an answer from the boys.

“Then, well, you know what to expect,” she continued.

It felt like a punch to the gut. She was telling them to brace themselves for what you looked like now. It also meant that they knew you were attacked by a werewolf and it likely wasn’t a secret throughout the castle. You tried to stop the tears that pricked at your eyes. 

It certainly didn’t help that they gasped when they pulled back the curtains. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at your friends. You were hugging your knees to your chest. You know you told Pomfrey you were ready to see people, but having your closest friends see you like this? Nothing could prepare you for it. They stepped into the curtained area, standing at your bedside.

“How are you feeling?” James asked, his voice soft. 

“Like I’m falling behind in my assignments,” you replied snarkily. 

Sirius laughed and clapped you on the shoulder. “So delusional as always!”

He’s the first one you were able to look at. You needed him to see you roll your eyes at how ridiculous he was. But, really, you’re grateful for his comment and his laughter. It’s the first time you’ve been treated as normal in a week. 

“So when are you allowed to leave?” James asked. This time he sounded less like he was talking to a sick child. 

“Two weeks. Assuming the full moon goes well.”

The three boys exchanged concerned looks. The air was suddenly tense between you. Peter closed the curtain.

Then he asked, “What do you remember from the last one?”

They weren’t Dumbledore or McGonagall. These were your best friends. You could tell them the truth. 

“More than I told Dumbledore…” you muttered, looking away from them. You took a breath before quietly recounting the night. “It started with thinking I was following you three. I had already seen Remus leave the common room and I figured you three were under James’ cloak.”

“Oh, you know about that…” James said.

“You mentioned it once years ago. I thought you were kidding, but ah, clearly not. Anyways, I saw Pomfrey and Remus go outside and right up to the Whomping Willow. I investigated, found a passage and next thing I know, I’m being attacked by a werewolf.”

“And that’s it?” Peter asked cautiously. 

You sighed. “It’s going to sound so silly, but I swear I saw a dog and a deer protect me before I passed out. That was probably the pain…” 

You looked from boy to boy. Their visible concern was almost too much for you.

“Where is Remus?”

“He, uh, couldn’t come by right away. I’m sure he’ll come when he has time,” Sirius said. 

You frowned but nodded. Then you had an idea.

“Would you get my assignments from the professors and help me catch up? I really don’t want to be a month behind when I get out of here.”

“Yeah. Of course. Anything for you, love,” James said as he ran a hand through his hair. 

Then Pomfrey yanked the curtains open and chastised the boys for closing them in the first place. She made them leave and you were alone again. You hated being alone.

Over the next two weeks, you had more visitors. Mostly Gryffindors and the random other students who heard there had been a werewolf attack and wanted to see the result. James, Sirius and Peter took turns bringing you your assignments and helping you catch up. Each of their visits was prefaced with ‘The professors don’t want you to push yourself and said they will give you as much time as you need to catch up’ and you would always tell them that you were bored out of your mind waiting to be released. 

Being bored, however, wasn’t the worst of your issues. Neither was trying to stop flinching every time you saw your reflection. No, it was the fact that Remus had yet to visit you. You asked about him every time the rest of the Marauders stopped by; they always had an excuse ready and claimed he’d be by soon. But he never came. It broke your heart. 

You didn’t think it was any secret that you had a favorite out of the four of them. You adored Remus. He was an underestimated presence, commanding power and attention when he needed to. You could almost call him a shadow god: overlooked yet able wreck havoc. And beyond all of that was his love for books and knowledge. His love for his friends. His loyalty. His devotion to his passions. 

Your favorite person hadn’t been to see you in the four weeks you were in the infirmary. You were furious. You were devastated. You were done. 

The morning after the full moon, when you woke up, you heard him talking with Madam Pomfrey. You didn’t want to talk to him anymore. You didn’t want to see him. You wanted him to visit during the past two weeks and he doesn’t show up until you’re to be released? Pissed off didn’t begin to cover how you felt. 

You opened your curtains and asked firmly, “Madam Pomfrey, I’m feeling quite myself. Can I be discharged?” 

Then you saw him. Shirtless on a bed a few over from yours as Pomfrey applied long bandages to his chest and shoulder. The two of you locked eyes. Your eyes burned with fury while his welled with concern and guilt. You wanted to snap at him but clenched your jaw instead. 

“Oh, yes, dear. I was just waiting for you to wake up,” Pomfrey said. “If you’d like to wait a moment, I’m just finishing up with Mr. Lupin.”

“No, thank you, ma’am,” you said shortly before leaving both of them baffled at your refusal to wait. 

You had no desire to be in the vicinity of ‘Mr. Lupin’ at the moment. He wasn’t even there to visit you. He was there for himself. He had gone and gotten himself banged up on his own. 

---

You avoided Remus. You put as much distance between you and him as you can. If he was around and you couldn't get away, you gave him a cold shoulder. You remained on good terms with Peter, James and Sirius, but it was difficult to spend time with them without Remus also around. 

So you found solace in your female friends. You knew they were concerned about the space you were putting between yourself and the Marauders; it was just so out of character for you. They wondered if it was a result of your attack, if the boys had somehow been involved in it, although they never raised these concerns when you were around. They just made sure that you were never alone unless you asked to be. 

“What happened between you and the Marauders?” Dorcas asked during study hall some time after your attack. 

The Gryffindor girls gave her a wide-eyed stare before turning to look at you semi-nervously. Apparently, they had forgotten to fill in Marlene’s girlfriend on the taboo question. 

“Nothing,” you said nonchalantly, not even bothering to look up from your work.

“Bullshit. You haven’t talked to them in over a week and even I’ve noticed,” she said pointedly. 

“I’ll talk to Sirius, James, Peter. Not my fault they don’t separate from the damn traitor.” 

Lily snorted, in laughter or suprise, she wasn’t sure. “The traitor? Do you mean Remus?”

You glared at her. “Yes.”

“The one who’s been staring at you in practically every class since you were released?”

“He’s probably just surprised at how I look now. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s different,” you said coldly. 

“Maybe. Or he wants to talk to you,” Mary suggested. 

Now it was your turn to snort in disbelief with a shake of your head. 

“He does,” Lily confirmed. “He’s, you know, scared you won’t listen to him. Which I think is a valid conclusion being that you-”

“He better be scared,” you cut her off. “If he tries to speak to me, I’m hexing the bastard into next year. Pass that on, will you?”

At that, the girls dropped the topic. Dorcas got the message that you weren't to be asked about the Marauders any more. Lily passed on your message to an upset Remus during prefect duties. How was he supposed to fix things with you if you wouldn’t give him a moment of your time? 

“There’s no way she doesn’t know that I’m the one who did that to her. She told Lily that she’d hex me into next year if I try to talk to her. I’m fucked. I’m so utterly fucked… I’ve lost her,” Remus moaned one evening in the boys’ dorm. 

Remus hated how you wouldn’t look at him. He hated how you avoided him with so much determination that you barely had a friendship with the rest of the Marauders anymore. He knew he couldn’t blame you for avoiding him; he was a monster and had attacked you. He still wanted to apologize to you, to explain that he has no control over what he does when he’s in wolf form. It was the least he could do, but you wouldn’t let him. 

A small part of him wanted to blame you for being in the Shrieking Shack. That maybe he would place some of the blame on you. But he didn’t know what you were doing there. Maybe you had a perfectly valid reason for being there that he didn’t know about. Maybe there was more to the story, the one-sided story that he couldn’t get the other side to because you wouldn’t even look at him.

“Moony, mate, I don’t think she knows you’re the werewolf. She know we were out of the tower too,” Sirius said.

“Out of us, who looks the most like a possible werewolf?” Remus snapped. He knew he was right on that point. He was covered in scars and often sickly. 

“Okay, but she was asking for you every time we delivered homework. Why would she be asking for you if she didn’t want to talk to you?” James added. 

“Then what happened? Why is she avoiding me?”

“Because you didn’t visit her in the infirmary?” Peter offered lazily.

“I was there when she was discharged!” 

“Hmm, not the same. Wasn’t a visit and you know it,” Peter concluded.

“I’m fucked,” Remus repeated. 

Remus was growing desperate. He missed you. He missed having you around, your comments and warm presence. Even if you couldn’t stand him anymore, if you feared him, he didn’t want to be the reason you stopped being friends with James, Sirius and Peter. He needed to talk to you so he could apologize and tell you that if you wanted him to, he would distance himself from the boys so you could have your friends back. 

So he turned to the only person he thought could actually help him right now: Lily. He begged her to help him. He knew he looked and sounded pathetic, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He just needed a moment of your talk so you could talk. Or at least listen with sending him into the infirmary for a year, like you had threatened. She agreed to help, although she advised him to be cautious. 

Lily’s part was simple enough. She had to get you alone at a back table in the library, and then when Remus approached the table, she would tell you to just listen to him, hear him out, and then you would never have to speak to him again if you didn’t want to. 

When this transpired, you glared at the two of them. You were slightly upset with Lily’s backing of Remus. You knew that she had no reason to be upset with Remus and you never voiced why you were upset. But still, she knew you didn’t want to talk to him. 

“Please,” Remus said, voice pleading. “I just need a few minutes of your time. I’ll leave you alone forever after. Please.” 

“Fine,” you groaned.

Lily gave you a smile and hug before leaving to give you privacy. Remus took a seat across the table from you. You didn’t say anything more. You waited for him to say something. 

“I understand if you're scared of me. If you don’t want to be friends anymore. If you’re furious at me. I’m sorry,” he started to say. “But don’t take it out on Peter, James and Sirius. Stay friends with them. I’ll distance myself from them so you still have your friends. Please, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Why would I be scared of you?” you snapped. 

“Because… because you know my secret?” Was there a chance that Sirius was right?

You bunched your eyebrows together. “Your secret? That you leave the castle at night?”

“Oh. Um. Well, shit…” he muttered, looking down at his lap. Sirius was right. You didn’t know. He took a deep breath. “Then I have something to tell you.”

He waited for you to say something, but you held your tongue. All you could do was stare at him. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than usual. So, he hadn’t been sleeping well. 

“I’m… I’m a werewolf,” he said quietly, completely unable to look at you. “The werewolf.” 

You took a sharp breath. That… that explained a lot.

“That’s… that’s… That’s why you didn’t visit me?” you said after a few minutes of intense silence. 

Remus nodded. He finally raised his gaze to meet yours. He was shocked to see your expression as something soft, rather than something of anger or fear as he had expected. 

You remembered all of the lessons you had on werewolves in the past. How they had no control over what they did in wolf form. How excruciatingly painful the transformations were. The wolf was blood thirsty and brutal. Remus, however, wasn’t brutal. He wasn’t a beast. He was… your friend. 

“Fuck,” you breathed, squeezing your eyes shut. Then, with your voice barely audible, “I thought you didn’t like me anymore… I just wanted you to visit me…”

“I thought you knew. I thought you hated me, wouldn’t want to see me.”

“I was asking for you!” you exclaimed, your voice louder and more firm. “I wanted to see my best friend!”

“But I’m a monster. I… I ruined you…”

You crossed your arms over your chest in sudden anger. “I am not ruined, Lupin. Scarred, yes. But not ruined.” 

Remus’ hands were shaking uncontrollably in his lap. His heart was pounding. 

“That’s not what I meant!” he said quickly.

“It’s what you said.”

“Please, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I miss you so much. I didn’t intend to hurt you. You know I would never hurt you if I was in control.”

“Were you in control when you didn’t visit me in the infirmary?” 

He swallowed thickly. “I was.”

“And that hurt me, Lupin.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. If I could go back and change it, I would.” 

You clenched your jaw. You knew it was killing him. It was evident in his voice, in his face, in his posture. You made it blatantly clear that you didn’t blame him for the attack, for the permanent damage to how you looked. You did, however, blame him for not visiting you when you needed him. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I forgive you for being an ass? No. I can’t. Because I don’t forgive you.” 

“Can you give me a second chance? I’ll do anything. Anything. Anything to make it up to you.” He was begging at this point. 

“No. Not now. We aren’t friends, Lupin. Not because,” you let your voice drop to whisper, “you attacked me. I know that wasn’t you, per se.” Your voice returned to its previous volume as it dripped with hurt. “We aren’t friends because all of my friends visited me in the infirmary.”

“Please,” Remus said, his voice quiet with desperation. 

“No. I can’t forgive you. I can’t give you a second chance right off the bat. I have no reason to. Just… Just leave me alone.”

Remus nodded and stood up. He waited for a moment to see if you had anything more to say. When you didn’t say anything, he left. By the time he passed where Lily had moved to, tears were streaming down his face. You weren’t crying, but you did feel empty. Officially ending your friendship with Remus had taken more out of you than you expected.

[vivwritescrappythings]

meum cor

marcus acacius x fem!reader

Your father had raised you for one purpose: to be a very rich man's wife someday. As it turns out, that man is Marcus Acacius, the renowned general himself.

a/n: Thank you for this lovely request! Instead of a princess I made reader the daughter of a rich merchant in Rome, but I hope you like it! I am on the fence about a part 2 right now.

tw: fem reader, afab reader, reader is shorter than Marcus, reader has long hair, social norms of ancient rome, vague description of a chariot crash, your imaginary dad is a misogynist, not proofread, Marcus may be poorly written.

word count: 5.1k

masterlist

--

Being born a woman in Rome was being born shackled. Your life depended on being a mother, a wife. The servitude of others would be your shining opus, the symbol of a life well-lived. It was hard to imagine, your mother passed away when you were just a babe. 

In the privacy of your mind, you imagined growing up to become a soldier or a scholar like your brothers. The desire for independence itched beneath your skin. But that would not be your fate. You were committed to your loom and learning to run a household and being a good wife someday. 

After years agonizing over who to marry you off to, your father had finally found a man suitable enough: General Marcus Acacius. 

His decision was twofold: help your brothers get better positions in the Roman army and increase his influence by tying you to one of the most powerful generals in the empire. 

It was no matter that he was nearly twenty years your senior–your father assured you it was a common match. There was nothing for you to worry about, it would be a great honor for your family for you to marry General Acacius. No use in arguing, or pouting, or fighting against it.

Your father’s word was law.

You ruminated over the mysterious General Acacius for weeks. All you could consider was what your future husband was like, agonizing about any scrap of information you could learn about him. He had spent most of the past few years fighting in battles: the conquest of Armenia, of Parthia, of Germania. A man obsessed with legacy. You could only imagine the amount of blood on his hands–how many people had he killed to aid the sprawling Roman Empire? 

At his age he had never been married before. You had expected to be his second wife, men his age looking to marry were widowers more often than not. Perhaps he had been too dedicated to his military career to consider marriage… or you had heard stories of men who preferred the company of other men. 

If anything, that could make him an amicable husband. Simply marrying you for your dowry and allegiance to a merchant, but otherwise left you to your own devices?

You could live a life that way.

The walk to Palatine Hill did not take you and your father long, the fall weather just starting to cool after a long summer. In truth, you had never even spoken to anyone that lived on Palatine Hill, let alone visited a domus there. Each one was more elegant than the last, elegant homes that exuded affluence with beautiful entryways and manicured grounds. 

The amount your father was offering for your dowry must have been staggering. 

Being a merchant had its benefits. You were sure your father offered access to the best imports and potential to take over a few ships if he wished to step down from his post as general. 

Marcus’s domus was mixed in with the rest, your father nodding to the guards and stating his business. They let you pass without issue. Marcus had invited you and your father to visit his home and they would attend the chariot race that afternoon. It was the final step to securing his agreement to your marriage, ensuring that he deemed you suitable enough to take as his wife.

Your father had been frantically preparing you, training you in proper topics of discussion and how to answer any questions Marcus had. The strategy simply turned into allowing your father to answer any and all questions and smiling demurely in the background. Better seen, not heard.

The autumnal sun slanted into the atrium, shining off the impluvium and illuminating the space. It was sparsely decorated: reception benches positioned strategically around the space, a few tapestries hung on the walls. The most intriguing part of the room was the mosaic in the impluvium, an intricate scene of a gold octopus and colorful fish embedded in the tile. You stared at it for a long time while a servant ran to fetch Marcus from deeper within the household.

Before you realized, he stood before you.

You were surprised to see him dressed so simply—he did not look like the decorated general you had expected. The only indication of his status was the deep burgundy cape clasped over his chest, the clasp and embroidery shining gold. He was broad and tall, his head full of dark curls that were starting to go gray at the temples. His beard was going gray at the jowls. But his gaze was focused on you and your father, his deep umber eyes taking you in. There were a few scars on the tanned skin you could see, the permanent furrows of a scowl above his curved nose.

But he was handsome. 

The thought caught you so off-guard that you nearly tripped on air, heeding your father’s beckoning hand to stand near him. You did not realize that you could find a man twice your age to be handsome, or even pleasing to the eye.

“Justus Acacius,” your father began, his voice booming through the atrium as he put on a show of joviality that he did not feel, “I am pleased to see you once more, and for you to finally meet my daughter.”

Your father gestured to you with a sweeping hand. You inclined your head politely, eyes downcast. “I am honored, Justus Acacius,” you murmured, keeping your gaze on the polished stone. The name felt unfamiliar on your tongue: it was the first time you spoke it aloud.

The weight of his appraising stare was palpable, you did all you could to stay still beneath it. The last thing you wanted was for Marcus to think you weak-willed. You forced yourself to stay calm, your breaths slow and even.

Then came approval in the form of a slight nod–nothing more than a partial lift of his chin. You glanced up, finding his expression unreadable. “Welcome to my domus, I trust the way here was not too taxing,” he said, his voice a smooth baritone. You understood how soldiers could fall into line at his shout—it commanded attention.

Marcus turned to your father, clasping his shoulder in a firm grip that spoke of their familiarity. “Your daughter is a beautiful maiden, Tiberius. You did not over exaggerate.” You glanced at your father, eyebrows ticking up in question. You did not realize that he had bragged about your appearance–in your list of accomplishments he tended to leave it off. 

“Come, let us retire to the triclinium. I have refreshments waiting.”

You followed dutifully, taking in the extravagance of his home. The build of it spoke of opulence, prim white stone forming the walls and meticulously carved columns. For all its grandeur it lacked the details, there were a few busts placed in alcoves and the odd tapestry on the wall. They looked old, the fibers slightly frayed–passed down from mother to son, most likely.

“It requires a feminine touch,” Marcus said, noticing how you were looking around. “Something I am certain my future wife will be able to supplement.”

Your father bristled at the way his statement was open-ended, no guarantee in sight that you would be that future wife in question. It seemed that your supposed beauty was not enough to secure a betrothal.

The triclinium was furnished with three low couches around a dark table, your father claiming the couch in the center and forcing you and Marcus to sit apart from one another. The table was littered with fruits, cured meats, and pastries, but you did not have the stomach for any of it. You took a fig to be polite, taking miniscule bites of it.

Your father and Marcus ate seemingly without concern, grazing as they spoke idly of politics and distant lands the Emperors wished to conquer. It all sounded frivolous to you, the impending doom of your marriage looming over your head like an executioner’s axe. You were so preoccupied in your thoughts that you did not realize Marcus had spoken to you until your father had cleared his throat.

“Tell me,” Marcus said, turning to face you as he handed your father a goblet of wine before pouring one for himself, “what are your interests? Your skills? I would like to know more about the woman I am to wed.”

He leaned against the cushions, the embodiment of relaxation as he drank. His arms crossed over his broad chest, the muscle moving beneath his tanned skin like snakes. 

You took a breath, opening your mouth to answer before your father interrupted you.

“She is excellent with a loom,” your father proudly offered, the metal cup hanging from his fingers as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “She took over the duties of my late wife when she was just a girl, and, dare I say, the fabrics she weaves are even more fine than her mother’s.”

Your father did not even allow Marcus time to respond, launching into his next point with gusto. “She also is proficient with the flute and knows how to dance. My wife and I had wanted her to become a Vestal, but the goddess did not call upon her.”

“I assure you, Justus Acacius, she is well prepared to run a household in your absence,” he promised, wetting his lips with the wine to hide the anxious set of your mouth.

Marcus listened intently to your father’s praise of your skills, one eyebrow slightly arched. He took a sip of his own wine, the ruby liquid leaving a faint stain on his full lower lip. 

“Raised modestly as well,” Marcus remarked, glancing at you with a hint of a smirk. The touch of humor surprised you, your cheeks warming as you hid your smile. You took a larger bite of the fig so you did not have to school your expression, the ripe fruit sweet on your tongue.

He set his metal cup down on the wooden table with a soft clink. There was a moment of pensive silence before Marcus cleared his throat, fixing your father beneath his penetrating stare. “I am pleased to hear of your daughter’s talents. They will serve her well as a Roman matron.” He paused, the weight of his words sinking in. “However, I would like to hear it from her. Tell me, how would you intend to manage a household in your husband’s absence?”

His cool gaze drifted back to you, dark eyes glinting with curiosity and a hint of a challenge. The pregnant silence held the expectation of your response.

It was unusual. Most men were comfortable to allow your father to speak for you, preferring women seen rather than heard. It was the first time a man had asked you for your own words. You found the image of him that you created in your mind rewriting itself. 

“As for running a household–I am literate,” that simple fact already put you a step ahead of many women you knew, “my father went through the additional effort of hiring tutors to teach me grammar and how to use an abacus. Now that I am of age I have handled my father’s affairs a few times when he left on trading expeditions–both of my brothers are serving in the army so it fell upon me to manage the responsibilities.”

You paused for a moment, taking a breath as you looked up at Marcus. He was watching intently, holding a terrifyingly neutral expression. “As for running your household, I would study your previous ledgers and discuss your strategy of managing your assets before you were to leave.”

The silence of the room was deafening–you could hardly stand it. “If anything, I rather enjoy calculations with the abacus,” you said, babbling to fill the dead air. You could feel your father’s glare without needing to look at it. “At times I have done them simply to pass the time, seeing how much I can challenge myself.”

Marcus nodded slowly, dark eyes glinting with amusement as the corner of his lip threatened to turn up. He downed the rest of his cup of wine, clasping his hands together in front of him for a moment as his gaze dragged over your form.

“I find your honesty refreshing. It is clear you are well-equipped to be a devoted wife and manage a household of this size,” he said as he stood, towering over you and your father. You were holding your breath, waiting for the verdict as though you would receive your death sentence. “I believe this match will be beneficial for all of us.”

And you could breathe once more. 

You looked up at Marcus, trying to reconcile that the man would be your husband. It had not felt real until he acknowledged the match. Part of you had assumed that he would change his mind upon meeting you, opting to marry some Senator’s daughter instead of the daughter of a merchant.

But he would have you as his bride. His wife. 

Marcus turned to your father, broad shoulders squared. “Tiberius, have you ever sat trackside at the chariot races? I was planning for us to use my seats,” he said, taking a step back to leave the room. You knew your father would be pleased by his offer, sitting with Senators and dignitaries had always been his aspiration.

The sun was shining in through the arches leading to the courtyard, high in the clear sky. The races would surely start soon.

Your father accepted readily, the two of you standing quickly. He arranged for your cousin to meet you at Circus Maximus to escort you home–it was inappropriate for a woman of your social class to walk by herself through the streets of Rome. 

“Tell me, my lady, would you care to join us? I have found that a touch of excitement and spectacle can be invigorating for the soul,” Marcus said, his words an open invitation.

You could not help but glance at your father for his approval–he had always considered the races too aggressive for the fairer sex. They had always intrigued you, the sheer size of Circus Maximus always caught your gaze when you were near. Sometimes you could hear the crowds cheering.

After a moment of deliberation your father nodded, albeit less enthusiastically than he could have. “It will be good for the two of you to spend time together in public, it will serve to announce the union prior to the ceremony.”

“Excellent,” Marcus murmured, holding his hand out palm up for you to take. There were callouses on his palm and fingers that spoke of training long hours with a sword and shield. The spread between his fingers was wide, your hand disappearing in his hold as he pulled you up to your feet. “Let us be off.”

–

Circus Maximus was a buzz as you took your seats, your breath stolen by the enormity of the track and the stadium surrounding it. 

You had never seen so many people in one place, the stands roaring. Marcus’s seats were in the first row. Senators filled in the space around you, your gaze drawn to the broad purple stripes on their tunics. If you had known you would be meeting Senators you would have dressed differently. 

It had already taken you far too long to weave the palla you were wearing over your crisp ivory tunic–a band of yellow following the hemline of the rich crimson fabric. Your father had insisted you wear the jewelry your mother had passed down to you, gold bracelets adorning both wrists and a matching choker clasped at your throat. But you still felt underdressed–you would have braided your hair more intricately or added a band over your bicep. 

“My lady, are you alright?” Marcus asked, pulling you from your thoughts as you blinked at him for a moment. You could feel your cheeks warming, sheepish that you were caught in your reverie.

“Yes, General Acacius,” you breathed, a self-conscious smile twisting the corners of your lips. You did not want him to worry about your comfort. “I was simply gathering my surroundings–this is my first time inside Circus Maximus.I hope you do not take offense to my naivety.”

His surprise was palpable, dark eyebrows lifting toward his hairline and eyes rounding. Then his expression melted into a smirk, his head bending toward yours. “Well, I will find great enjoyment explaining the sport to you if you are willing to listen,” he said, just loud enough for you to hear him.

He was close enough that it felt like a secret between the two of you, a chill running up your spine despite the warm autumnal sun. You found yourself enjoying it.

“Of course, if it is not too much trouble.” Your entire life was dedicated to taking up as little space as possible, your father’s devastation over having a daughter known to you as soon as you were old enough to understand what his rebukes meant.

Marcus’s brow furrowed, his gaze tracking to where your father was speaking with some Senator before coming back to you. “My lady,” he murmured, voice a tick lower as his fingers brushed a loose piece of hair from your face, “you will soon be my wife. I intend to bring you to these events, and they will be more enjoyable if you understand the rules.” His hand cupped the side of your neck, warm against your skin.

You tried not to shy away from his touch, his skin rough against yours. A man had never touched you so intimately before. The frantic beat of your heart filled your ears for a moment, you were sure he could feel the hammer of your pulse against his hand.  

“Alright, explain it to me,” you murmured, biting the inside of your cheek for a moment as you folded your hands in your lap. You twisted the fabric of your palla over your fingers, not sure if he expected you to return the touch or simply accept it. Perhaps you were thinking about it too hard–too worried about misstepping and causing Marcus to change his mind.

But he seemed pleased, releasing you to turn and face the track fully. “Those gates down there are where the chariots start,” you followed the sweep of his arm with your eyes, “they run around the center barrier, the spina, to reach seven laps around the track first.”

You listened intently, bracing one hand on the carved stone rail as you leaned forward. The spina surprised you with its intricacy, obelisks and statues decorating the center of it. There were water features mixed in with the artwork, gilded columns on each end of the barrier indicating turning points.

“Are there teams?” you asked, glancing at Marcus before looking at the track again. 

He nodded, eyes seemingly lighting up at your questions. “Yes, today the Red and White teams will race,” he said, resting his elbows on his knees as his gaze drifted to your palla. “You are dressed aptly, for I support the Reds.”

“It must have been the goddess Fortuna guiding me this morning,” you said with a grin, almost looking smug. 

Your father pulled Marcus’s attention from you, asking questions about which team he supported and if he had placed any wagers. It was hard to hear his reply, their voices getting lost in the din of the stadium. 

Solitude amongst a crowd was something you were taught to be used to, your mind occupying itself with silly games. You counted the number of obelisks in the spina, the number of stadium sections you could see, the number of people in the lowest section across from you. 

The thoughts of your upcoming wedding ceremony drifted into your mind–would your aunt take the place of your mother? Would she dress you the morning of the ceremony? Tie the Herculean knot at your waist in wool? You could hardly imagine Marcus taking you from her arms during the wedding procession–you and your aunt were little more than strangers. But she was the only woman in your family, the responsibility would fall to her. 

“My lady?” You felt a nudge to your side. Marcus and your father were looking at you, you noticed a vendor standing in the aisle. 

“Yes? My apologies, I was lost in thought,” you said amiably, crossing your legs at the knee.

Marcus cleared his throat. “Would you like something to eat?” he asked, so conscientious of you that it was almost frightening. You were thankful it was loud enough that the sound of your stomach growling was audible. 

Despite your hunger you shook your head, waving off his concern with a polite smile. “No, I am alright.” you said softly. You could see your father’s satisfied expression and nod over Marcus’s shoulder. Refusing was the right answer. “Thank you, General Acacius.”

“Nonsense, you hardly touched the food before we left,” Marcus said, turning to the vendor and shouting a few orders. He had a keen eye… you were not used to scrutiny. He took two clay pots from the vendor, handing you one of marinated green olives so he could pay the vendor. “Eat, and do not be afraid to ask for anything you see that entices you.”

“You are far too generous, Justus,” your father said, squinting in the sunlight as he looked at you. His disappointment was clear. But Marcus did not seem to notice or mind, simply placing both bowls into your hands. The other bowl had toasted hazelnuts and walnuts, the clay pot pleasantly warm in your hands. You placed both bowls on the carved stone step between yourself and Marcus, picking from them idly.  

It was enough to satiate your stomach, staving off the dregs of your hunger until you made it home.

Then your gaze was drawn by a magistrate walking onto the track, a white flag held aloft and shining in the sun. Marcus caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, sitting up straighter. “Once he drops the flag, the race will begin,” he said to you with a glance to make sure you were paying attention.

It was quick. As soon as the flag dropped the gates opened, each chariot being pulled by four horses. The thunder of their hooves almost rivaled the cheers of the crowd as all twelve chariots flew down the track.

You watched with rapt attention, studying the way the charioteers had the reigns of the horses tied around their waists. The first two laps seemed to only be used for gaining speed, the chariots staying in their designated lanes before chaos broke loose.

The gasp that pulled from your throat when you watched a charioteer whip another one that got too close caught Marcus’s attention, making him bark out a deep laugh. You had lurched to your feet with the rest of the crowd, the adrenaline getting to you. “They will try to make one another crash as they vie for a position closest to the spina,” he said to you, a hand gently placed on the small of your back. The press of his palm on your spine brought you a step closer to him.

You watched with wide eyes, the red and white robed charioteers careening around the track without abandon. The horses kicked up clods of dirt with every hoofbeat, spraying anyone that dared be behind them. You understood why they had been spraying so much water over the track–an attempt to keep down the dust. 

The first crash was brutal, two sets of horses tangling with one another. One charioteer cut himself free of the reins with a curved knife, jumping from the chariot and into the greenery that adorned the spina. The other one was not so lucky, the sound of wood splintering and cracking reaching your ears as you clapped a hand over your mouth. The other racers had to dodge the mess, narrow misses of the pileup making you wince.

“It is alright, the charioteers are alright, my lady,” Marcus said, his nose brushing against your hair as he spoke into your ear. You looked up, seeing the other man pull himself from the wreckage to safety. It helped you breathe easier, a nod coming from you.

There was one more crash during the race, a chariot clipped one of the columns and spun out of control. Marcus had pulled you to his side as the laps went on, you could feel his excitement through the way his fist clenched in the loose, draping fabric of your palla. You pressed your fingertips to your lips, brow furrowed as you watched the final stretch. 

The teams were neck and neck, the entire stadium tense until the Reds pulled forward at the last moment. You let out a sigh of relief, your eyes slipping closed for a beat. Then you could hear Marcus laugh, loud and raucous. “Why I believe you must be a priestess of Fortuna herself, my lady, for the Reds have not come out victorious in the past fifteen races,” he said to you, crushing you to his side in a way that made you chuckle. 

You had not expected ease at his side, and certainly not praise. Warmth covered your cheeks and neck as a genuine smile found its way to your face, your gaze casting up through your lashes to meet his. He released you after a moment, clapping your father on the back as they animatedly discussed the race.

There were a few more races that day, each one as chaotic as the last–but they were all Red wins.

–

Marcus had insisted on escorting you and your father back to your father’s domus as the sun began to set on the horizon. Your father’s property was grand in comparison to that of your neighbors, but with respect to Marcus’s estate it was a simple home. 

Your favorite part were the orange and lemon trees growing on the property, filling the air with the scent of citrus as the sky turned pink. Marcus had accompanied you up to the atrium, a soft smile on his face as he looked down at you. Your father had sent a servant to fetch wine, anxious to continue impressing Marcus.

“I must bring you with me to all the chariot races, my lady,” Marcus said, his dark eyes raking from your head to your toes. “It seems that your presence bodes well for my luck.”

You shook your head, flattered as you covered your smile with your fingertips. “I believe you are too kind to me, General Acacius,” you murmured, unable to hide your grin from your voice. 

You felt giddy, your father and Marcus had spent the entire journey to your father’s domus discussing dates for the ceremony. It was set for three weeks from that day, it would give you just enough time to alter your mother’s wedding gown to your tastes and to set a menu for the feast.

“Tiberius,” Marcus started, deep voice booming throughout the atrium, “would it be alright if I had a moment of privacy with your daughter? I would like to give her a gift so she does not forget me within the next three weeks.”

He hesitated for a moment before obliging, saying he would be just down the hall if you needed anything. You knew he would be standing just beyond the door.

“You have pleasantly surprised me,” he said, a hand running down the bare skin of your left arm until he held your wrist. Goosebumps lifted on your flesh, a shiver running down your spine as your breath caught in your throat. “I had expected this to be a marriage of necessity, but it seems to me that it has the potential to be much more.”

He pulled something from the folds of his tunic, the gold catching the light of the setting sun as he brought your left hand toward him. You realized that it was a ring–an engagement ring. 

“I wanted to see before I gave this to you, just to be sure,” he murmured, his dark eyes focused on your hand as he threaded the ring onto the third finger on your left hand. “Ah, perfect fit. I should not have expected any less from my priestess of Fortuna.” 

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you looked down at the ring. It was not as heavy as you had expected, sitting snug on your finger. It was believed that a vein connected your heart to the ring finger–but for some reason you had never imagined a ring occupying that space. It was simple, a design of two hands clasping on the center of the band. But the gold alone must have cost far too much.

“It is beautiful,” you breathed, a bit mystified.

Marcus’s hand clasped your chin, tilting your head up toward his. “It suits you,” he mumbled, dark eyes partially-lidded as he looked over your face.

His hand shifted, clasping the back of your neck. You were stretched onto your toes, leaning toward him with such fervor that you would fall forward if he stepped away. The air between you was warm, smelling of wine and roasted hazelnuts.

The first brush of his lips against yours was tentative, so cautious. It seemed like he was just testing, treating you like glass. 

You should have pulled away, bashful and flustered and told him that you would have time to continue on your wedding day. That three weeks was not a long time to wait–a mere twenty four days away. 

But you did not, hesitantly placing a hand upon his chest for stability as you stretched further into the kiss. Marcus let out a soft groan, the kiss deepening as his mouth slanted against yours. His beard and mustache tickled your delicate skin, but you found yourself enjoying the sensation. The broad stretch of his hands cradled your jaw, guiding you through the clumsiness of naivety into the kiss.

Your hand fisted in his tunic, pulling him toward you with some urgency. He let out a muffled grunt, a hand finding the curve of your hip. 

He then pulled away, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted as he took in air. You could feel his chest move beneath your hand with each heavy breath. A smile curved his lips, genuine in a way you already found yourself cherishing.

“I will see you soon,” he murmured, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips before untangling himself from you. “But I believe if I keep you any longer, your father will be suspicious.”

You let go of his tunic, nodding as you let go of him. He cupped your cheek in his hand, thumb running over your cheekbone before he bid you farewell, stamping another kiss upon your brow before leaving your father’s domus altogether.

The girlish giggle came from you before you could stop it, your hand covering your mouth as you looked down at the ring on your finger. 

Bless the goddess Fortuna for your fate that day.

[hyuny-bunny]

seasons // series

part v

summary: when the real threat of losing you to someone else becomes reality, what will minho do?

warnings: mentions of sex, female masturbation

part iv • masterlist

Seeing him sit outside your door, almost as disheveled as you was the last thing you expected. He was wearing those godforsaken grey sweats again with a t shirt and flannel. The way his eyes raked up your body taking in your appearance made you feel small, seeing he was already dissecting every inch of you to figure out where exactly you had been.

"You weren't answering your phone... I figured if I sat out here you'd come out eventually..." He trails off, the question about where you were hangs off his tongue.

There's a brief pause as you hold his gaze trying to decide if you should answer with an explanation or another question. Silence follows as you move to your apartment door, opening it for both of you to step inside. If he wanted answers, he would have to work for it.

"... where.... where were you?" He said looking at you still trying to decipher what's happening at this very moment.

"I... I stayed the night with a guy I met last night."

The tension was thick as you swallowed, meeting his gaze. His face remained stoic, any hint of disapproval or disgust or anger was undetectable. He just nodded once as if to say he understood that was enough to answer his question.

"I'm sorry.. for not calling or texting to let you know I was fine... I'm also sorry for exploding on you yesterday. I know you didn't mean to be hurtful."

He nods softly looking down before speaking up.

"I'm really sorry for what I said... I just want you to be safe.. and happy most of all... Since, you seem fine, I'll head home."

He turns his back to you heading for the door.

"Minho.." He stops in his tracks looking up at you, keeping that stoic face. "You don't have to go... so soon..."

He sighs before walking over to you, he brings you in for a small hug before patting your shoulder.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

It's all he gives you as he walks out leaving you standing in the middle of your apartment, somehow feeling guilty. His lack of a reaction felt jilting.

-

Minho went straight home, changing into gym clothes. He grabbed his bag, heading straight to the place he knew he could get out his frustrations in a safe way.

Throwing punch after punch into the body bag that swings from the ceiling. It isn't until Chan intervenes that he stops, the older warning him he needs to stop before he breaks his hand. Out of breath and sweaty, he reluctantly sits on the nearby bench where Chan watches as he takes off the glove revealing a very irritated hand, skin littered with popped blood vessels that would turn into bruises soon.

"What's up with you?" Chan knew him all too well, he could always tell the difference between Minho coming to work out to get a work out in versus the beaten down version of Minho that sat in front of him.

"She... She went out yesterday and this morning when I went by her apartment, she was coming back from staying the night at someone's place...."

Chan was fully aware of the longstanding feelings Minho had for you. He had known for years. Watching him get into a few relationships hoping to fill the void of not being able to have you as a romantic partner. Or whenever you got into a relationship and Minho would sulk like a battered cat. Chan sighs as he looks ahead.

"Okay, let me ask you this, why is it any different now then when she was dating someone?"

Minho can't meet his gaze.

"You know her better then anyone else, it was a fling, a one night stand that probably meant nothing-"

"She never stays the night." Minho's voice cuts him off.

"What?"

"She never stays the night, she always gone home after. So she either she liked it enough... or liked him enough... to stay until the morning."

"That doesn't mean anything, she could've been too tired to go home or.." Chan stops himself realizing whatever rational explanation he gave him wouldn't console his pouty friend.

"I just want her to see me... see me as someone who can be there to take care of her... Someone who could actually love her the way she deserves..." Minho trails off looking down.

"You can't keep sulking like this every time there's a slight chance that she either gets a boyfriend, which I am not implying that this is what this is, or starts to find interest in someone else... Either fess up or live with this reality."

Minho stares at his hands as bruises bloom over his knuckles. He huffs before standing up heading to the showers.

-

You stir the sauce around in the pot as the smell of sage & butter waft through the place. You can't help how easily you find Minho's scent pushing through even as you cook, it was almost nauseating. You place a headphone in your as you continue talking to Hyunjin on the phone. He was busy tonight and well... your body needed time to recover.

"I have a question and you can't make fun of me or laugh," You say as you take a clean spoon tasting the sauce before moving to put your gnocchi into the pan with the sauce."

"Okay, what's your question?" He asks hearing you stir the pasta around through phone, he imagines what you're wearing as you cook.

"When you asked me about the last time I had sex..." You say hesitantly waiting for him to laugh.

"Yeah, what about it?" He says matter of factly as he recalls the event.

"How... How did you know that I hadn't... in a while? Is that some sort of Alpha instinct that's kept secret?"

He stifles his laugh at the 2nd question not wanting to break the promise he agreed to.

"No, not necessarily... It's the same as when you kiss someone who's never kissed anyone before. You just kinda... feel it?"

"Are you say I was bad in bed?" You ask teasingly.

"God, no! It's just... I could sense... it had been a while and... I never thought of myself as someone who was stellar at sex but at minimum I know how to pleasure my partner," he pauses for a moment before continuing, "So with you, I thought you were either just really sensitive or... it had been a while... so when I asked it wasn't because I knew but just needed to reaffirm my initial... assumption."

"I don't know if I should feel offended or not.." You joke trying to come off as reassuring him that you were prodding for answers.

He didn't come off as some typical macho Alpha who thought of himself as a sex god but it was reassuring to know he knew himself well enough to be able to pleasure his partners.

The two of you continued to talk as you had your dinner with a small glass of wine to unwind a bit.

"I should probably let you go, have to prepare for my stuff for my classes tomorrow." You say with a sigh feeling a bit warm from the wine that made your cheeks tinge with a warmth that felt like the sun beaming down on you.

"When can I see you again?" He asks with a stupid grin that you can hear through the phone.

"Hmm... How about Friday night?" You ask in a flirty voice.

"Killing me here, I don't think I can wait that long..."

"First week back is always a bit chaotic so you'll just have to survive!" You tease as you stretch from your seat at the dinner table. He laughs warmly before reluctantly agreeing.

After letting him go from the call you clean up the mess from your dinner packing it away for a lunch for you and Minho tomorrow, an olive branch lunch that's packed with the a blueberry muffin you made for the morning. Food and gift giving was a mutual language between the two of you, that often meant gifting each other lunch or sweets.

You finally make your way to bed staring up at the ceiling as you try to get comfortable. You scroll through instagram for a bit swiping through peoples stories before you're forced to do a double- no, triple take at Chan's story. Chan was a friend of Minho and Jisung that you hung around often when you had group outings or house parties for 3Racha's demo releases. You had grown a bit closer to him with every time you saw him, he was another Alpha who had an understanding for your frustrations for other alphas of the male population.

The video was Minho boxing, repeatedly hitting a body bag... wearing was quite possibly the sluttiest thing a man could wear to the gym. It was a black compression shirt that the gave the perfect outline of his tits pecs in the shirt. There were very few occasions you had seen true anger or frustration from Minho, but it was obvious he was heated as he took repeated swings to the body bag that swung from the ceiling with the force of every hit.

Would it be wrong to admit how incredibly turned on it made you to see every muscle in his arms engaged making his pec's move and his stature seem so much bigger?

Either way it didn't stop you from you from watching it over and over until you felt the familar wetness pool in your underwear. Forcing you to reach beneath the fabric as you turned over rubbing your clit while imagine what it'd be like for him to fuck you with same aggression he took out on that body bag. Even as you orgasmed you couldn't help choking out his name in a whimper muffled by the pillow.

-

The next morning Minho came by to pick you up, driving you both to campus as you had worked out your schedules to work out so that you two would either start at the same time and likely end your days at the same time. He waited down stairs outside of his jeep waiting for you to come out, he always parked and stepped out to be the one to open your car door.

He watched you emerge with your shoulder brown satchel bag on and a bag of what looked like food. His eyes took in the way your hair perfect fell around your face, the perfectly slouched light wash of jeans and white buttoned blouse.

"Good Morning, Min, ready to deal with the nightmare of parking on the first day back?" You ask teasingly as you walk up to his side. He gives you a soft smirk rolling his eyes as he opens the door for you letting you climb in to the car waiting for you to settle before closing it and getting into the driver seat.

He wore his typical, light wash of jeans with an oversized grey hoodie that always looked so much cozier on him then anything else. It was typical for him as he didn't always want to wear sweats despite being a dancer needing the free flow of the material.

"The only thing I'm looking forward to is finally being able to choose good songs for the choreographies this year." He says as he starts the car.

Minho had recently stepped up into the role as captian of their dance crew this year. He was nominated by the last captain and most of his juniors, surpassing some of the seniors in which it would've been their last year to lead as captain. He had been the youngest member to get the position in the last 10 years.

"Oh that's right! What time are you supposed to meet today?" You ask as you open the bag of food you had brought.

"3:30pm, I'll be going over the rules and expectations then getting the new dancers settled in. I'm a bit nervous about getting them to see me as a leader of the group now.." He grips the steering wheel a bit tensely.

"It'll come with time but I'm sure you got it. And if they don't, then they're free to go else where if they don't like it." You say offering him words of encouragement. He glances over giving you a soft smile thanking you.

The car is filled with chatter and laughter, an easy feeling, a stark contrast to what yesterday felt like. A mutual unspoken understanding between the two of you to move forward. He finds parking in a building near your class as, before getting out you hand him the lunch you made him.

"Here, your lunch and a blueberry muffin of apology..." You say a bit quieter than you meant.

"Apology? For what?" He tilts his head taking the food staring at you with those endearing brown eyes.

"I don't know.. I just felt guilty about how worried I made you..." You say looking at him a bit solemnly.

"You don't need to apologize for anything, I was an asshole... However, I still will be devouring this muffin with or without an unnecessary apology." He says gleefully as he takes a bite moaning dramatically as the taste hits his mouth, making you laugh as he makes a mess of himself.

He couldn't help but feel simultaneously guilty and warm at the idea that you felt so bad that you needed to bake him a muffin for him to feel remedied. His dramatic eating of the muffin made the unease you felt from the day before lighter.

The two of you walked towards the english building, light chatting as he threw an arm around your shoulder pulling you close to him. Minho enjoyed the feel of you close against him knowing once you pulled away, the scent would be all over him for the rest of the day. The sweet smell of dark cherries and almond bitters that made him feel like he just walked into a bakery. He kisses the top of your head before parting ways, it was something he did often but this time it made your heart do a flip.

Moving through your classes with much ease, it's around 4pm you finish the last. You walk through the campus, taking in the breeze that blows through the shaded areas as the sun sits still high in the sky. You find the arts building, sitting on an empty bench with a book as you decided to wait for Minho to finish his dance class. You glanced through the window looking to see Minho at the head of the class leading, he looked like he was starting to go through the choreo he had made a few weeks ago to start the class on. You can see Felix's blonde hair bobbing around making you laugh as you see his half ponytail flopping around with every move.

Your laughing is cut short as you gasp for air seeing Hyunjin's reflection in the mirror dancing beside Minho. His body moving fluidly as he follows Minho's instructions, you duck down beneath the window contemplating on running away. It's too late for decision to be made as Jisung begins to approach about to yell your name in typical Jisung fashion. Abandoning your belongings on the bench as he begins to pass approach the open door that leads directly into the dance room, as you approach Jisung at a desperate speed to clamp your hand over his mouth, it's too late as he utters the first letters forcing you turn just in time to become in line of sight of Minho and Hyunjin who glance in your direction. They both wave with a smile on their face before the realization hits that their eyes are on the same person.

part vi

[hoetachi]

HAPPINESS OVER EVERYTHING (H.O.E) — J. TODD

suggestive themes

I hope she don't think, that I think that she's some kind of hoe

A SOFT KNOCK graced the dark oak and he already knew whom it would be. without words being exchanged, he heard the chambers turned followed by a slight creak. there you were… in your newest ‘outfit’. off the record, this was your skimpiest outfit by far (which he loved a little too much by the slight tent in his slacks) and just knew you were getting tipped well for it.

jason relaxed a bit in the chair, umbrella twisting lazily between his fingers whilst keeping his shielded eyes on your figure. a mischievous smirk graced your glossed lips as you pressed your back to his door, which he picked up on the chambers turning again. you locked it.

time for your scheduled ‘cat & mouse’ game.

you pressed yourself free off the oak and switched your hips towards his desk. “5th time this week, doll” he pointed out as you inched closer. you now was right before him leaning over, pushing your breast together slightly whilst your perfume invaded his senses. sweet as ever, a scent he’ll never get a enough of.

“they say you pickin’ favorites mista hood” you finally spoke, your hair falling over your shoulders while you stared at him doed eyes. he always liked how you said ‘mista hood’ with your slightly hidden brooklyn accent. you don’t know it, but you’re the only one who’s allowed to refer to him as that. for everyone else it’s either ‘boss’ or ‘sir’

he exhaled, “i don’t do the favoritism bullshit.”

“then what do you do?” you asked, circling his desk. ghosting your hand over the nape of his neck, if he didn’t achieved the self control he currently had, he would’ve shuddered from the ghost of your touch without hesitation. he sees why bruce stayed up on those rooftops now, the mere thought about going against your own code for desire was a thrilling experience

“i treat people how they deserve to be treated” he stated curtly. he was never the one to sugarcoat the truth, that’s what most of the staff secretly disliked about him.

if he wanted to say ‘fuck off and rot in ditch’ he had nothing holding back, absolutely no remorse. he knew everything about everyone who worked under him and knew majority of them weren’t kind people in their day to day, so why would he treat them how he would like to be treated if they were mere scum?

“so if they wanna act like gossiping schoolgirls, i wouldn’t take their comments seriously”

“is this why you’re lingering in my office instead of… displaying your talents?”

you finally made it back before and leaned again on his desk. you pretended to think about for second. how cute you are “maybe… maybe not” another cheshire smirk graced your lips

“so.. how do i deserve to be treated, mista hood?”

“i’m letting you avoid working right now for one. two between you and i, i pay you more than your coworkers out there, even though you’re here less” he chuckled at your face at the little jab towards your absence around the lounge

“you know why though” you rolled your eyes at the jab. he loved to push your buttons, your reactions were just the cutest thing to him plus he knew you couldn’t really stay mad at him.

“how’d your exam go?”

“i feel that i definitely scored the lowest on it. im way too over my head with this veterinarian thing”

he used the hook of the umbrella he’s been twirling with to pull the strap of your bikini top and snapped it back, causing a yelp from you. you dropped your head and pouted as you rubbed the suddenly aching spot between your breast, however the same hook tilted your head up.

you were meant with crimson lens and from the looks of it, he wasn’t too happy with your comment. “don’t say that. do i look like i hire idiots?” he questioned coldly, you parted your lips to answer but realized it was a rhetorical question and thought best to not say anything. “you passed that entrance exam with flying colors, which is amazing considering there’s an 9% acceptance rate so don’t dare discredit that mind of yours”

“are you intelligent!?” he raised his voice, causing you to straighten your back with a flinch before nodding your head rapidly, “say it y/n!” he raised his voice again, “i’m intelligent” you said rapidly, making you stand up straight with your gaze falling to your feet. he mentally scolded himself for his outburst. he knew better to always watch his tone with you knowing you already get enough shit while on the clock from the others. “im sorry for yelling,” he apologized

“it’s okay, mista hood” you reassured, giving him a sheepish smile. “i just don’t ever want to catch you beating up yourself. you’re a good woman” he complimented with a much softer tone

“hmph, some woman i am” you huffed, twirling the end of your hair between your fingers unamused

his brows knitted at your comment, “what did i just say, y/n?” he scolded

“i know i know im sorry, but cmon mista hood. look where i work at?”

“it’s a fixer upper… i see potential still” the last part more for himself than the actual lounge. he’ll give credit to cobblepot, he took good care for the place but it was better under jason’s ownership.

“no man wants a woman who flirts their way into their pockets” you whispered whilst looking out the tinted window towards the vip section. the urge to cup that pretty face of yours and have those hypnotized eyes on him and him only came in droves. the fight with temptation around you could make him weak than any fight with the toughest rogues in gotham.

“speed dating ain’t workin’ out for you?”

“after the compliments and pleasantries, they don’t quite stick around once the question of what i do shows face” you joked half heartedly. no matter how much of a front you put on, he knew you wanted someone to take care of you and not just try to take you home for night

“doesn’t sound like men to me”

“then what does it sound like?”

“boys trying to play big man. someone’s way of paying the bills shouldn’t define them, so don’t let them define you. this is temporary, y/n just like those boys”

“you definitely know how to flatter a lady mista hood” you smiled softly, walking around his desk and he scooted back some to make some space for you to hop up on his desk to sit

he shrugged, feeling a bit more relaxed with you closer to him. “i’m just telling the truth”

“or maybe the truth is, you’re a really good ladies man..” there was a sudden glint in your eyes and he knew it was finally time to test how strong-willed he was against his own desire

“y/n…” he warned once you brushed your leg against his

“am i toeing the line?” your voice dripping in playfulness and your eyes shadowed with seduction, he was more than thankful for the tints on goggles how he had to close them to control his urges. how did the old bat do it with the cat for so long is all he could think about. you two barely even touched and he already so bothered

disregarding his caution, you continued your pursuit of him. “i would expect you of all people to love a bit of risk every once in a while”

“don’t start something you can’t finish” that was his second warning for you

“you see, mista hood, that’s the problem”

“you won’t let me finish. got me thinkin’ you may be into edging” you moaned, pulling in your bottom lip. he almost put together how sweet the actual melody of your moans would sound and that alone practically put him closer to the edge

“i don’t mix business with pleasure”

“it didn’t seem like a problem with liz and all the other girls” he watched again as you tried to your best not to roll your eyes at the name. liz wasn’t nothing to him nor others, if he had a rough night, he knew they’ll do anything to get even a smudge of the attention that he gives you

“they throw themselves”

a pout formed on your face and god, he could’ve been putty right in your hands. “am i not throwing myself hard enough?” you batted your lashes towards him.

“you’re better than that, doll”

you giggled as you placed a hand over your chest dramatically being flattered, “you think too highly of me, mista hood”

“i do, but who can blame me of thinking of you”

“and that’s your other problem too” he watched as you smirked. pushing yourself off of the desk, you moved the umbrella aside and decided to find a more comfortable spot to sit. you slowly sat yourself on his lap, making sure he had the perfect view of your arched back before looking over your shoulder with an innocent expression. “is this spot taken by chance?” throwing your legs over his knee, really settling against his tailored suit. you were going to be his second death for sure

he exhausted exaggeratedly, you’re the only woman he has set of rules for himself.

he can’t touch you. you can comb your fingers through his hair, acrylics scratching his scalp comfortingly and he has to fight the urge to nozzle into your touch.

he can’t taste you. he’s tempted every time you leave a glossy kiss on the corner of his mouth because knowing your love for toeing the line, he’s just curious how’d you react if one day he just captured those plump lips and explored that sweet mouth of yours and pull a moan from the depths of your core

you’re completely right

you’re his biggest problem

part 2?

[gladiaralla]

Dark Red☾⟡꙳⋆

Part 1

Dark Geta x !fem reader

I needed more dark Geta and Caracalla, so I started this. I'll post a few parts.

Warnings: !forced marriage!, angst, slight daddy !ssues mentioned.

Disclaimer: In general, I will not pay attention to historical accuracy in my stories. Besides, English is not my first language! Nevertheless, I hope you have a great reading experience. Make yourselve comfortable. 🤎 [Feedback is appreciated.] Hope y’all like it. <3

Under the night sky of Rome, the imperial palace shone brightly that evening. The marble columns, adorned with gold and purple banners, towered above the gathered guests, their voices creating a deep, muffled murmur. Occasionally, laughter and the clinking of cups rose from the crowd.

Young men, dressed in white tunics, stood in a corner of the hall, playing on lyres and flutes.

You sat amidst the music, the laughter, and the deep voices of the Romans. You felt out of place in this grand hall, which had been decorated in honor of your family’s arrival. Yet, gratitude was not what you felt.

Your gaze remained fixed on the table, on the grapes and figs, which were carelessly plucked and eaten. Your throat was dry, but you did not touch the cup filled with fine wine. Unlike the guests and Romans, you sat unmoving. Your stomach tightened with bitterness as you watched your father, surrounded by the many senators, speaking with them. You knew this was his doing. It was your father who had spoken the words and written the lines that had brought you to this place. This place that felt so foreign and frightened you. He had weighed your life like a coin in the hands of the Romans and decided that the price was fair.

A chill ran down your spine at the thoughts that tormented your mind, and your fingers gripped the small cloth you had been holding tightly in your hands since the beginning of the evening. You remembered why you were here. The truth was, you hadn’t forgotten it for a single second since leaving the shores of your homeland. Your mind was already filled with enough questions to answer. Endless questions about your uncertain future since your father had delivered the news of your impending marriage. Not that he had truly delivered it. Rather, like every night when you preferred to wander the halls of the house, you had overheard your parents’ conversation. Barefoot, you had strolled through the gardens, inhaling the scent of the flowers, when you heard your mother’s fragile voice.

"You will not sell my last daughter like cattle! She is so fragile. She will be swallowed by the shadows of Rome, and you know it!" You had not known exactly what they were speaking about, but your mind had already whispered the answer to you. "There is no other way! You know that as well as I do, woman!" Cautiously, you stepped beneath the terrace, seeing your mother’s white cat sitting on the walls, resembling the statues and busts of past lords. So proudly did Patronus sit there, his blue eyes shining like diamonds under the firelight. He tilted his head as you pressed a finger to your lips. "By the gods! She is still a child! She has barely bled, and you are already deciding her future! First Abora, then Karsia, and now her. No!,” you heard your mother’s voice fighting for your fate. "Briseis, be reasonable! With this marriage, we can secure peace!" Your breath caught, and slowly your finger fell from your lips. The sound of your mother’s sobbing reached your ears, and you leaned against one of the decorated marble columns for support. Your hands ran over the aged white stone, tearing off one of the flowers that wound around it. You held it tightly in your hand, inhaling the scent of your beloved homeland. "No, Alexios! No!," your mother’s desperate voice rang out once more. Slowly, you lifted your head and saw the shadows of your parents behind the billowing curtains against the high wall of the room. Your father’s figure loomed over the smaller form of your mother. A helpless gesture was all her silhouette revealed. "The imperial brothers hold a dagger to my throat. The future of my people is uncertain, and I will not allow your emotions to stand in the way of the security that hangs by a thread!" Alexios' voice thundered. You flinched, and your body pressed even closer to the column, as your fingers did with the fine cloth in your hand.

At the large table, your mother sat opposite you, looking into your eyes, seeing the longing for your homeland. You stared deeply into the cup of wine you hadn’t touched — nor had you touched the food since the evening began. You recognized the gaze of your father on you, and you refused to return the false smile on his lips. The way he inserted himself into the conversations, as if he were one of them. Your contempt burned quietly, hidden behind lowered lashes and unmoving features.

Next to you, Helena slid a small plate filled with grapes towards you. Her gray eyes lifted to meet yours. You shook your head, trembling with your lashes, until the haze in your eyes seemed to disappear and you saw the young woman gasp for air. Her wavy, brown hair fell over her shoulders. She always wore beautiful clothes, and various jewels adorned her almost pale skin. Earrings pierced her skin, and if you looked closely, you could see a scar on her left one.

“I want to go home,” your lower lip trembled as you gazed at the bracelet that encircled your wrist. It was a fine, thin band holding hand-painted pearls together with a simple knot. When you examined the pearls more closely, you even noticed small carved embellishments. You ran your finger over the handmade piece of jewelry and tried to force a warm smile onto your lips.

“I long for home too,” Helena held back. She, too, had her pains to bear. At the same time, she glanced over at Arsames, who was watching the singers in the back corner of the room. For him, the coasts of Akarnania had truly been a home.

Briseis had been his foster mother, who had cared for him after he had lurked as an orphan beneath the wooden crates of a Greek ship at the harbor, while Alexios had wanted to lock him up in a dungeon or do worse. He came from deep Persia, but spoke little of his life there.

His slender figure, narrow shoulders, and a waist emphasized by the fabric of his robe. His face was marked by high cheekbones, a narrow nose, and full lips. To you, he was always the brother you never wanted to lose.

“Tell me what you feel. Describe it to me,” Helena demanded, her dry eyes fixed on the smoke, spreading through the hall. She ran her fingers over her delicate hands with such pressure that her knuckles turned white.

“I don’t know. That’s what frightens me,” you replied, pausing before continuing. “You know, Helena, when I overheard my parents arguing that night, I hoped my mother could calm my father. I hoped he shared her love. But he didn’t. I was a fool to believe that my father could ever love me,” your voice faltered. You let the words sink in until you found the courage to speak again. “Now I have this feeling that I will never be safe again. Always fleeing from my nightmares and the people here.” Your voice wavered with every word, and you took a deep breath to keep the coming tears at bay. You were still almost a child—just as Helena was, and as she wished to be. She was not much older than you, yet she was expected to play the role of an experienced and hardened handmaiden who had an answer for everything. She tried, as Briseis had instructed her before she had stepped onto the ship.

“Arsames and I are with you,” she whispered to you and kissed your forehead gently.

“Will I ever find my way home?,” you asked, your wide-open eyes staring into Helena’s, sparkling with a clear hope. Almost a childlike, naive hope that seemed ready to swallow all reality.

How could she take it from you?

Helena lied to you, for she knew that what she was about to say would not happen under any circumstances.

Helena did not believe in miracles.

“We all will, my dear. Just like Zisimos, the mouse. Do you remember?” she asked, tucking a strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear. You looked up at her with wide eyes, surprised that she remembered.

It had been so long.

“Zisimos was so brave, she defeated the serpent Velissar and outwitted it. Do you remember how she did it?,” she asked, leaning further towards you, a wide grin on her face.

“She let herself be chased by it to the branches of the Genis tree and its roots, until the body got entangled in the wood,” Arsames answered in your place and grinned widely.

The air grew heavy with the sweet scent of incense burning in silver bowls, drifting lazily through the opulent hall. The warm light from the oil lamps flickered over golden mosaics and the smooth, polished marble columns, while faint music from invisible lutes sounded, almost nothing more than a gentle whisper between the silken curtains.

All evening, you felt the gaze of Emperor Geta upon you.

He sat on his golden throne, decorated with wide-spread wings. His ring-adorned hand glided softly and gently over the gold. He wore a black robe that fell elegantly down his body. His eyes, deep black and outlined in thick coal, rested on you as if he wanted to pierce you. The red hue of his eyes made him look feverish, almost sick. His skin was so pale that it glowed in the warm light, and his golden-red hair, held down by a heavy laurel crown, fell loosely over his forehead. He drank slowly from his dark wine, his pale fingers gripping the glass. Slowly, the liquid slid down his throat. It almost seemed as if the drink clung to the edges of the glass.

He only studied you with a silent intensity that made you flinch.

Beside him, on a brocade-covered bench, lay Caracalla, dressed in a wide tunic of red and gold embroidery. His pale fingers lightly glided through the dark locks of the man before him. His gaze was half-hidden behind heavy eyelids, his mouth twisted into a weary smile.

The longer you looked at him, the more you recognized the features of his face and the delicacy of his attire. His skin was pale in color, marked by subtle, visible scars. His hair was reddish, wavy, and almost disheveled in a way. His eyes were strikingly framed in deep crimson, and his expression seemed wistful, melancholic, almost dreamy. His right ear wore a long, dangling, and clinking earring.

His concubine’s hand wandered up his leg, over his knees, and began to stroke the intricate embroidery of his robe.

You took a deep breath as the many sounds filled your ears and the smells filled your nose. Your hand quickly grasped Arsames’ hand, who had now joined you beside the table, his wrists encircled by golden cuffs, imprinted with patterns and gemstones. His earrings jingled like small bells as his head turned towards you.

“Do not fear. The gods are with you, as I am. They have cloaked you in their mantles,” he spoke in his calm voice, his accent lightly audible.

“I wonder if they truly reside in this place,” you broke out softly as Geta’s gaze would not leave you. He studied your face, swathed in white silk. You gasped, trying to maintain your composure. It became harder with every passing minute.

Then a sudden jolt ran through your body as Caracalla’s squeaky laughter rang out. He licked his lips briefly and shifted in his golden seat, digging his fingers into the armrests as he chuckled to himself. His companion, who lay beside him on the floor, threw his head back as Caracalla sensually ran his fingers over his throat.

At that moment, you realized how Arsames himself was running his hand over his own and swallowed hard. The fear and unease in his eyes spoke volumes, yet a quiet fascination and curiosity whispered in his wide pupils.

You thought back to the night before your departure. It had already been days, weeks, perhaps even months since you had last felt the sand of your homeland between your toes. You still heard her voice when she had found you in bed, her face overflowing with tears. The bed had always been too big for you, which is why she always had to smile whenever she saw you sitting there, no matter under what circumstances she found you.

"I never knew your father when I was promised to him. I came, veiled, into this world unfamiliar to me and I had to learn to live here," your mother, Briseis, began softly and carefully sat down on the edge of the bed. You continued to sob and did not answer her. She took this as a challenge to keep speaking. "It is not easy, and by the gods! I wish we never had to have this conversation, my child. Do you understand why your father must do this?,” she asked gently, beginning to stroke your ankles. "Because he hates me. He does not love me," you spoke coldly and looked out of the curtains of your room into the warm night. "Do not say such a thing. Your father loves you," she said, and in her voice, you recognized that she was lying to herself. You shook your head and wiped the tears from your face with the back of your hand. "That is not love, Mother, and you know it!" The blonde woman before you faltered and looked at you with glassy eyes."My child. Every person in this world has their own fate, their personal destiny, which they cannot escape. Yours is to be a wife to the Emperor of Rome. Do you know what that means?,” she asked, but you had the feeling that her voice would break at any moment. You shook your head. Never before you had to trouble yourself with such thoughts. Briseis lowered her head, every movement elegant and reverent. She was just about to speak when you interrupted her.

"There are two. Two emperors."

Your mother said nothing about your murmuring and continued with the words she had carefully prepared in her mind. "You will be a wife to the elder one. A spouse. You will, if the gods will it, bear him healthy children. Heirs. You will satisfy him and be devoted to him. Your father wishes it," she explained, and the words barely came over her lips. "Mother, I cannot do this. Help me… I am not ready to bear such a… burden," your voice rang out and finally broke. Fresh tears ran down your cheeks again, and you let yourself fall forward into her arms. You felt her heartbeat beneath her chest and squeezed your eyes shut. Your fingers tangled in the fine fabric of her dress, and you inhaled the scent of the flowers that clung to her hair and skin. "Do not give me away, please, Mother," your voice sounded, barely audible and with such vulnerability that it broke Briseis’ heart. She placed her hand on your head and tried to soothe you with her whispering. "My dear, beautiful daughter…," she whispered, and the words echoed into the present.

Now, you could do nothing but gaze at her. So beautiful and elegant, she was surrounded by the men present. On you, however, the curious eyes of some women or the Emperor’s rested.

After all this time, your father could no longer tolerate the sight of you cowering behind you untouched cup. The weight of his gaze bore down on you like an iron brand, and when he finally moved, it was with the quiet, measured authority that had always made you feel so small.

Alexios leaned over you, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the table. At his unspoken command, Helena and Arsames—who had taken their seats beside you in silence—rose without protest and stepped aside.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was steady, but the steel beneath it was unmistakable. You kept your eyes on the plate before you, fingers ghosting over the grapes. You knew your father well enough to sense the threadbare patience in his words, the warning beneath them. “You’re sitting here like a statue,” he continued, his tone clipped- controlled. “Not even participating in the celebration of your own arrival.”

Your throat felt tight and you swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t know what to celebrate…”

Silence.

Your father’s jaw clenched, and you could hear the soft exhale through his nose. His face darkened, his voice dropping to something dangerously low, something only you could hear over the revelry around you.“Answer me this, daughter,” he hissed, his fingers curling into a fist against the table’s polished surface. “Are you going to sulk through the entire banquet? Through your entire time in Rome?”

You did not answer. You could not.

Your eyes flitted to the hall around you, to the guests moving in a haze of laughter and music, their golden jewelry catching the flickering light of the torches.

You looked past them, towards the emperor. Geta’s gaze had finally turned away from you. Now, his attention rested on the dancers before him—women draped in flowing silks, their bodies pressed against those of the men, moving with languid grace. He sipped his wine slowly, deliberately, as if their presence was more of an amusement than a temptation.

You clenched your jaw. The air was thick with incense, with the scent of roasted meat and spilled wine, with the sound of lyres and hushed murmurs that did not belong to you.

“I don’t want to be here,” you whispered, voice barely audible, though you knew your father heard it all the same.

“I want to go home.”

These words meant nothing to him. He did not even understand what they truly meant to you—home. His daughters had never mattered to him.

His expression did not change. He exuded nothing but coldness, and his eyes held nothing that could offer you hope. He merely leaned down slightly, took the cup before you, and drank from your wine. “I want… I want…,” he began, then stopped to take another sip. He licked his lips and continued.“But this isn’t about you, is it? Child. You have a duty here, and it sits right there!,” he motioned with a slight nod of his head towards Emperor Geta.

For a brief moment, your eyes flickered in his direction.

“You will be his woman. You will bear him heirs, do you understand me? When he laughs, you will laugh. When he speaks, you will remain silent until he calls upon you. That is how this works. That, and nothing else. If the gods had wanted you to remain a virgin, you would not be sitting here,” he explained to you as if you had not already heard these words countless times from various mouths.

“You will make yourself appealing to him in the days leading up to your union,” he continued, waiting for your response. You lifted your gaze again, tears in your eyes, your chin trembling.

He scoffed.

“Don’t be a child. Do your duty!”

Those were the last words he spoke to you before he straightened and strolled back through the hall. You remained rigid in your position, staring down at your hands.

Caracalla’s shrill laughter cut through your thoughts, and your eyes flicked upwards to the seats where the brothers sat.

You now saw how the younger of the two brothers had taken an interest in Arsames, who had merely been passing by on his way to fetch another glass of wine. But who was he to resist Caracalla? It wasn’t even allowed.

The emperor still lounged in his position, one leg bent as he playfully tapped his fingers against his lips, grinning while he studied Arsames from head to toe. From the golden pin in his thick hair to the jewelry adorning his ankles, nothing escaped his gaze.

Caracalla tilted his head and released his finger from his lips. The concubines around him also turned their eyes to Arsames, their shimmering cheeks glistening as they smiled knowingly. “Where do you come from? We have never seen… anything quite like you,” the emperor mused, his voice carrying a lazy amusement as the young men surrounding him giggled.

“Persia, my emperor,” Arsames replied, bowing respectfully. The eyes of the red-haired ruler flickered with curiosity. “Your emperor. How clever…,” he murmured, almost dreamily, his voice thick with the haze of the smoke curling around him. “Clever… clever…,” he repeated over and over again.

The Persian clasped his hands behind his back and watched as one of the concubines who had been lounging behind Caracalla now leaned forward, letting his hand trail downwards suggestively. Caracalla tilted his head back, letting his lips slide over the chin of the young man behind him.

Arsames swallowed hard, unsure where to look, his discomfort evident in the way he shifted on his feet.

Caracalla finally turned back to him, leaving his concubine panting in his absence. “How long have you been… your mistress’s slave?” he asked, his eyes flicking briefly in your direction. Arsames raised his brows slightly, then allowed himself a small, wry smile. “Does this amuse you, Persian?” He shook his head, standing straighter once more. “I am her… brother…,” he murmured. Caracalla burst into shrill laughter, joined by his concubines, who looked at him with dreamy admiration. One of them pressed himself closer to the emperor, and Caracalla leaned in as if whispering a secret.

Geta rolled his eyes slightly at his brother’s antics, and without a word, he stood up. His movement drew the attention of the gathered guests—and yours.

He raised his cup and spoke.

“There will be games! In honor of our guests from Greece and the upcoming union!,” he called, and the senators, their wives, and the patricians present applauded joyfully. They raised their glasses.

“To a handful of splendid days!,” Geta added, his voice already slightly lifted by the wine.

[crowbotss]

I forget if I already sent this ask or not but do you have a favorite Transformers dynamic between characters that you wish showed up more often in canon and/or in the fandom?

Hello anon! No, I do not recall getting any asks of the sort before, but thank you for asking nonetheless.

As for your question, I've two dynamics I absolutely crave, in fanon and canon. Number one of all time is my darling little shitstarter lambo twins!

First of all, why is it the case that, ever since the g1 cartoon and the comics, has Sunstreaker been completely left out of most canon transformer media? Sideswipe's popped up a good few times since (Armada, RiD2015, Bay movies), but they always leave Sunny out of it for whatever reason. They're a set and shouldn't be seperated :<

Maybe I'm biased because I'm a twin and a giant Sunstreaker fan, but I really wish hasbro would pick their whole dynamic back up in some mainline property (I don't even care if they're side characters, I'm desperate). They've charmed me ever since I watched the g1 cartoon, and I've always get so disappointed whenever I see Sideswipe somewhere without his brother (they don't even elude to him being somewhere off-screen or anything, he simply doesn't exist!).

As for fanon Sunny and Sides, I'm glad that fandom picks up some slack from all the lack of Sunnys, but I also feel like we could do with more Sunny&Sides-centric fanfics that aren't, ah, incest porn. Also, the commonly-referenced 'twin-bond' is very very interesting, along with their general backstory as gladiators in Kaon like Megatron. Combined with the mild consensus among fans that Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are some of the youngest Autobots, I feel like there's just so much you can do with these characters--but unfortunately, since they hardly show up in any official properties anymore, they aren't the most popular subject of fan-content.

EHEM, enough about my favorite condement-colored duo, my second pick for my favorite underrated dynamic is Starscream and Sunstorm.

I would love more of Sunstorm and. . . well, anyone (hasbro has a habit of fridging any gold-colored character that isn't Bumblebee, I assume), but I think his dynamic with Starscream would be the most interesting.

In most continuites he's in, he's a clone of Starscream, but also happens to act nothing like him most of the time (prolly due to a combination of being raised in a tube and subsisting himself primarily on religious delusions). Throw in an 'unwilling cloning experiment' spin on Starscream's part and I feel like we've got the ingredients for the world's most interesting family(ish) dynamic.

For this to even have a chance of coming to pass in canon though, hasbro would have to let Sunstorm out of the basement they locked him in and they'd have to let Starscream get within 100 feet of an interesting character arc, so chances are slim.

Fanon, however. . . the scant few media I can find focusing on Starscream and Sunstorm are always superb, but just like with Sunstreaker, I feel like there's always so little content with Sunstorm in it simply because people forget he exists, which is a shame. I love my strange radioactive catholic son.

Anyways, done rambling! Hope this answered your question fine enough.

Some underrated dynamic honorable mentions: Starscream & Optimus/Orion (In my heart of hearts I cannot let Starop go), Starscream & Prowl (I've read two [count em, two] very good fics with Prowl&Starscream interactions and they haven't left my brain since), and the Aerialbots & Stunticons (more media should focus on the fact that they're all newbuilds, for humor and/or angst purposes).

[leaawrites]

All I got is you

Eli Hewson x fem!reader

Summary: In which, they both got what they wanted for so long. Each other.

Warnings: pining, fluff,

Wordcount: 1.2k

Masterlist

The apartment was quiet only the clutter of the dishes in the sink keeping his thoughts from drifting too far away from reality. The bottle grew warm in his hands as Eli was sat on the couch, watching the dark screen of the TV. Soft music was playing in the background. Grounding him for a second in time before the morning would come again and the stress of the new album would return.

His eyes flew over the room. The dirty plates were cleaned and put away hours ago, when everyone was still around. They’d done it together. It was one of the first conversation they had that evening, besides the usual greetings.

It was a get together, a quiet evening, to find peace in all the chaos and catch up with old friends who were left behind the last couple of months because of the album. She had offered to stay a bit longer than the others to help him clean up and then he got a text from Bobby: ‘It’s your chance, man’

Sighing and throwing his head back at the thought of what this meant now, Eli let his eyes wander further. Her shoes were still messily thrown on the floor in front of the door. Footsteps came nearer and soon enough, she plopped down next top him. Right in the middle of his vision.

“You alright, rock star?” she asked, giggling slightly at his tired look and lulled back head.

“All’s good,” he answered, not looking away from her.

“What’s on your mind then?” The room went quiet and for a moment he thought that dying would be better than speaking in that moment. So much could go wrong, so much could fall apart. But Rob’s words still hung in his head and the other lads agreement were slow backing vocals he couldn’t get rid off.

‘She likes you too, man,’ Rob said on one late evening in the studio as they tried figuring out a section of a song.

‘How would you know?’

‘Talked to her the other night and well, she said, that you were way too cool for her. I guess that say enough.’

‘What you talking about?’ Ryan came in just as Eli was about to answer and dismiss Rob’s words. Sitting down next to them with fresh coffee in his hands, Josh carrying in the other two cups.

‘Eli fancies Y/n and he doesn’t want the possibility to be true that she likes him back,’ Rob answered, making Eli groan in frustration of his words. They were true, still haunting.

‘Oh, she definitely likes you,’ Josh cut into the conversation. ‘Why else would she willingly spent two months on tour with us?’

‘Because we’re all friends?’ Eli suggested.

‘Because she wants you to notice her as more than that,’ Ryan corrected him.

‘Think about it,’ they all said before going back to the song, but his mind was still stuck there.

He was still stuck in the same conversation as she sat down next to him, watching with curiosity of what was going through his head, when all he was thinking about was her. She wanted it to know too, when she couldn’t forget the way they laughed together earlier that evening and how he didn’t ask her to leave yet.

It had to be something, right?

It had to mean something more than boredom to him, right?

“Do you ever -” Eli started, looking away and down to his fingers. “Have you ever thought of doing the most stupid thing in your life that you hope you won’t regret?”

“How do you mean that?”

“Nothing, it’s stupid,” he pushed the question away.

“No, it’s not. What are you talking about?”

“What if one person is all I have in life but I don’t even know if I have that person fully?”

“You’re in love?” she guessed, averting her gaze from him now too. If he was to confess, she didn’t want to see his face while thinking about it. She couldn’t see the happiness in his eyes if it wasn’t because of her.

“I guess, yes. I just-” he swallowed hard like the words he wanted to say were ought to be put away, still they came tumbling out seconds later. “I can’t stop thinking about what life would be like if- if I got to call her more than a friend.”

“We’ve been friends for so long and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like that before,” she joked, nudging his shoulder and trying to lighten the tension that hung between them.

“They say the prey is always the most oblivious.”

Silence.

He was met with nothing but silence and it seemed like they were back at the beginning. Back then, when she was too shy to talk to him properly and every time he tried to make conversation it wouldn’t last longer than a few sentences.

“What?”

“All I got is you and I don’t know what to think of it,” he said, turning to her. Cursing himself for trusting Rob when seeing the shocked look all over her face. “What do you think about it?”

“I’d call it old news,” she started, heart thumbing in her chest, “but I wouldn’t mind being called more than your friend.”

“Old news, huh?” He laughed, recalling the conversation once more, laughing at the version of him who was too afraid to admit anything to even his closest friends. “Well, new headline: What about I call you mine from now on?” Winking at the end of her sentence and cringing at his own words, but it came to his head and at that moment he wasn’t afraid of saying anything anymore.

Doubling over in response and laughing at his attempt of flirting like they were strangers in a bar, she couldn’t help herself but lean forward. Closer to him.

As out of instinct, Eli wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap as he started laughing too. Holding her close and letting himself fall into the melody of her happiness. He couldn’t believe himself, but it worked better than he could’ve imagined. Because now, she was laying in his lap, looking up at him with the biggest smile he had ever seen directed towards him.

“I wouldn’t mind being yours,” she whispered, cradling his neck and pulling him down. Closer to her face, closer to her lips. Until they met and all fear was forgotten between them.

It was just them now, in an empty apartment late at night with the whole city asleep. Letting themself love the other uncontrollably for the first time in their lives. And neither planned on stopping anytime soon.

Definitely not when they pulled away and smiles spread on both their faces at just the other being so close. Her hands running through his hair, slightly tucking at the ends to make him notice her want for more. She wanted him and wanted her.

They were all they needed.

[sanguinesky-if]

Hello you wonderful author you!

Have you made a poll on the popularity of the ROs? I have difficulty deciding my favorite and it seems to change every playthrough I read. 😅

That said, I do have a preference for the gentle and kind, so L and I are probably the most attractive to me. I feel I is probably the least talked about, and often on your Patreon they are the last in the votes for content (Still waiting for their NSFW-alphabet!) Do you expect them to rise in popularity after we learn about them? I feel they are the most mysterious RO at the moment in that they seem se reserved and seem to fall to the sidelines with the more extreme personalities like the condecending and rude R, or the flamboyant T. L has the friends to lovers trope going for them, S is the flirt with the no-strings-attached and K a prickly boss with a vurneable and a soft core. I was wondering if I has a sort of "trope" for them?

Hope you have a wonderful day! ❤️

Have you made a poll on the popularity of the ROs?

Hello! No, I haven't, and I'm not sure I want to make one, since all the ROs share the top spot for me.

Plus, the Patreon polls give me enough insight into which ROs are currently the most popular.

Do you expect them to rise in popularity after we learn about them?

I'm not sure. Every time I expect the RO to disappoint some readers after some of their more questionable traits are revealed, it somehow has the opposite effect, so it seems like my compass in this regard is a bit broken. 😅

To answer specifically about I's alphabet, I can tell that it will definitely fall into the "it's easier to understand them a little better by having sex than a conversation" category before they actually open up.

To give the most honest answer, I don't expect I to be the first or even the second choice for most readers. But for those who do choose them, I intend to make their route worth patience and will work hard on my writing for it to feel truly rewarding in every possible sense of the word.

they seem se reserved and seem to fall to the sidelines with the more extreme personalities like the condecending and rude R, or the flamboyant T.

I'm glad if it feels this way, and I is comfortable with that role and often uses it to their advantage very effectively.

I've also noticed that some readers [especially those who are suspicious of everything] immediately single I out among the other ROs for that reason, which I find very... interesting.

But it also makes me happy because I love when readers question everything [and they are right to do so].

I was wondering if I has a sort of "trope" for them?

I've never thought of any of the ROs as tropes when I created them or when I write moments with them [even if some can be classified as one], because the layers they each have make me think of them and feel them as real people, so my answer is no.

Thank you for the interesting questions! I hope my answers make sense, and I wish you a wonderful day as well! 🥰

[savi-our]

Anti-harem OP Mage MC pt. 4.

☕I'm back! And I come bearing gifts!!! Hurray for pt 4 - sorry it's taken me so long. Now I also have to apologize for how one-shot like this is, but considering this idea has been running away with me for the past 3 parts already i decided to throw caution to the wind and make it even more personal - sorry not sorry lol? In any case I hope you enjoy, at this point this is viable to turn into a 10 pt. series so we're just taking it as it comes lmao.☕

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warning! Includes mentions of injury, blood and attempted murder!

It was a good two weeks since your relocation back at the headquarters and the days had been moving forward with a practiced ease. Your old routines kept you busy, and the daily life was simple, even as an active mage.

The business with your sudden mission in Mtt. Ebbott had produced exemplary results and all was moving along as planned. The rebuffed monster population had regained mastery over their magic, and had since been moved up on the long queue of the integration processes. 

Your excellent handling of the issue won you praise, both from Monster officials as well as the Archmage and so you had been stationed back at your post, with talks of a bonus to keep you well motivated. Your return home however - was slightly more bumpy than you had expected.

Apparently your quick departure was well noticed, and news of your return had spawned two skeletons straight at your doorstep before you could even take off your coat.

Black had barged in, a mixed flurry of emotions on his face as his eyes widened at the sight of you frozen at your desk, blinking up at him in surprise at his unexpected visit. He approached you with wide steps, an irked tinge to his eyelights as you stared at him in confusion.

“YOU'RE BACK.” He stated, and you nodded, slowly, confused by his sudden appearance in your office.

“WHERE WERE YOU?” He had asked, crossing his arms across his chest and tapping his foot against the floorboards - whether it was out of anxiety or irritation you couldn't quite tell.

“Work.” You answered simply, sitting down in your desk chair with a low exhale, tired from the journey and the many sleepless nights spent tying up loose ends back Underground.

“YOU DIDN'T SAY YOU WERE LEAVING.” Black continued, staring down at you across your desk and you rose a brow at him. You didn't exactly owe him an explanation, or even a goodbye - if anything it was the other way around. The brothers answered to you whilst they were here, you were responsible for everyone on base - so the line of questioning was odd. 

Before you could rightly respond, a tall frame slinked in through your doorway. Mutt - distracted by the phone in his hand, reading something with a pinpoint focus before his gaze lifted and landed straight on yours. His expression shifted almost instantaneously, eyes widening and his slight scowl lifted.

“yer back.” He noted and you huffed, amused by the similar reactions of the two brothers.

“Yes, I’m back. Did you two need something?” You asked, turning the question to both of them as you shifted through the many folders on your desk - more work piled up in your absence, all of the documents that your replacement didn't have enough clearance to take care of or so it seemed.

“are ya hurt?” Mutt approached closer and the question had pulled you out of your organization, staring at him blankly - confusion in your eyes.

“No? Why?”

Black’s gaze darkened, and all of a sudden he walked around your desk, standing close to your side, eyelights scanning over you with a familiar scrutiny as you blinked up at him, confused.

“PARDON ME.” Black excused, but before you could even ask what about he took your wrists in his gloved hands and pulled you up on your feet. You stared at him as he held your arms to your sides, examining you closely as he scanned his gaze down your form.

“What… are you doing?” You had asked, and Black's eyes narrowed. He turned you around, your back to his front and continued his examination, you turned a questioning look towards the taller of the brothers, asking for some sort of explanation.

“you… disappeared, nobody could tell us where ya went, so…” Mutt huffed, face turned to the side - a dark look to his eyes. All of a sudden the pieces seemed to click.

“Ah, you thought I was-...” Dead, or hurt, but the words didn’t cross your lips, based on the tightening grip on your arms and the scrunch in Mutts brow bone, you didn't need to. It wouldn't be odd, considering the dangers of your profession - many of your friends had gone out on a mission only to never return - it was… the unfortunate reality of your job.

You realized then that they had been worried. You had been gone for weeks and with nobody on base knowing or being allowed to tell them your business, you understood how they might have come to that conclusion. 

It was… heartwarming, in a weird amusing way. Not many people worried about you, as capable as you were - many took the question of your safety in a humorful and unserious way. Not without reason - but the fact that they seriously considered your safety was… well, nice.

You huffed, eyebrows raising as a bemused smile crossed your lips. You pulled Black’s hands away from you and turned to him, a warm look in your eye as you looked him over - stiff and expression mixed, gaze avoiding yours as he cast it away and to the side. 

“I'm okay, I swear it.” Your words were simple as you laid a warm hand on his shoulder in reassurance. It made him turn to you, a hint of something vulnerable hidden deep within his eyes. He lifted a hand hesitantly towards the one you had laid on his shoulder, his fingers wrapping around it, a single squeeze that prolonged the contact before he gently pulled both of them away.

“YES, WELL, GOOD.” He cleared his throat, straightening and pulling both of his hands behind his back. You could have sworn you saw the light hint of a magical glow on his cheeks, but your attention was soon pulled elsewhere as Mutt leaned against your office desk, placing his weight on it in a halfway sit.

You had to wonder since when had both of these skeletons grown so comfortable around you, you didn't remember them being quite as… bold before your departure.

“so, where were ya?” Mutt asked, a level and unreadable look to his eyes as you raised your brow. Seems like ‘work’ wasn't a good enough explanation for either of them.

You sighed, sitting back down in your chair, an amused glint to your eyes as you explained.

You told them what you could - without giving away any sensitive information that is -  and it seemed to placate the two brothers, albeit slightly. Their curiosity was invasive at worst, but they understood why you were being as vague as you were - your job permitted very little leeway in terms of classified official business, and seeing as both of you came from differing branches there was very little you could share - even if it was technically Underground business.

The days flew by without issue after that, same old routines, same old grievances, same old dealings with pompous and self centered officials. The only difference was that you were beginning to find yourself in skeleton company far more often than before. 

Black had started visiting you during daylight hours, small meetings whenever the two of you had a moment of free time. He often brought coffee with him, something you were grateful for considering the long hours you were once again spending filing away the mountain of paperwork that had collected on your desk. You spent many a coffee break together, talking about the goings on across headquarters, and you began to notice how whenever you had to pop out for an emergency mission outside of protected territory, Black always seemed to find himself in your office, looking you over and scanning you for injuries - always denying his apparent worry under the pretense of official business. 

Mutt also seemed to visit you more often, but now instead of just staring at you he chose to start up conversation - and your opinion of him quickly changed. At first glance he seemed to be quiet and reserved, if not a bit apathetic to all of the goings on at base - whereas now that he had begun to look for conversation, you found him to be a lot more bold. He was filled to the brim with quick witted and teasing commentary, often messing with your colleagues and giving them more work to do. You would have reprimanded him - but considering he ever really messed with people you were on poor terms with - you let him get away with it. Every now and again he threw a pick up line your way, and you rolled your eyes whenever he had, knowing he was trying to charm his way out of trouble.

It was something to get used to, you weren't known for socializing during work hours, especially considering your reputation - many of your relationships were purely business oriented and whatever friends you had kept from your lesser known early days were busy with their own dealings.

Being a mage meant keeping up your guard, almost constantly. You never knew which sunrise would be your last, which shared meal would mark your last peaceful memory. It was a solitary life, a life which made you keep any close relations at an arm's length. All mages knew this, all mages knew what it meant to sign yourself over to the exalted and prominent Mage Circle. Many mages only formed relationships through arranged contracts - whether it be marriage or even companionships of a platonic nature, it was almost always connections bred out of mutual benefit rather than any emotional reasons.

You knew better than most what it was like, losing connections to the awful consequences of your profession. Whether it was the recruits back from your schooling days, or veteran combat mages you had met over the course of your career. It was a sad and tragic reality, one that kept many a mage awake during moonless nights.

It was the morning after one such sleepless night that you were notified of a fresh yet familiar face come to visit your office due to a scheduled meeting. A well known surgeon, one you had grown acquainted with during your time researching the monster population underground. You had asked him here for a personal request, one you had finally taken the time to get sorted even with all the work that currently sat idle on your desk.

You spoke to him at length about a procedure, one you had extensively researched and discussed with the more well known healers at headquarters. A spine realignment, a jaw restructure, a rehabilitation process. The meeting took you the better part of the morning to get through, and as the surgeon left, promising results, you had sighed, looking idly over the disorganized state of your desk.

It was a month longer before you finally saw the results of your efforts, sitting at your desk, idly sipping on a cold cup of coffee Black had left on your desk a few hours prior when a knock rang through the large wooden door of your office.

“Excuse me, there is someone here about a job application? Shall I send them away?” A known guard spoke through the door and a smile pulled on your face.

“No, let them in.” You spoke calmly, slowly pulling yourself up on your feet and moving to lean against the front of your desk, waiting for the new recruit to make their appearance.

The door opened with a slow creak, and you were once again met with a pale white face blinking over at you, his tall form straightening in recognition as his grin strained with the force of his smile.

“Long time no see Twilight.” You smiled over at him and he called your name before quickly closing the door and waltzing his way over to you. You had only half a second to brace yourself before his long arms pulled around you and he lifted you off the ground in a sweeping hug.

“YOU’RE THE HIGH MAGE?!” He spoke in a loud bafflement, and you chuckled as he placed you on your feet, his hands landing on your shoulders as he looked down at you.

He was even taller now, or so it seemed - the change in his appearance was as different as night and day. His teeth were straighter now, filed down and less discolored than before, a straight line of braces fastened and fixing his smile in a straight line. A pair of glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, a magical film across the rims that kept them sitting prim and proper on his face. 

He looked good, healthy, the sight had made a weight lift off of your shoulders and a satisfied hum leave your lips.

“Careful, should you be lifting things this early?”

“NONSENSE, YOU'RE AS LIGHT AS A FEATHER!” Twilight enthused, a sparkled enthusiasm to his expression that made you chuckle. You highly doubted that, but you could hardly refuse his affectionate greeting after all of this time.

You took a while to reconnect, to ask him about his surgery, about his brother and about his continued integration process. He seemed in good spirits, and asked you about half a dozen questions about your profession and about why you had lied when you had come to the underground - all of which you answered.

It was about an hour later when the conversation slowed and you noticed Twilight's body language switch into anxiety.

“What's wrong?” You asked, head tilting in worry as you faced the tall skeleton, watching as his gaze flew about the room before it settled on you.

“I…I HEARD IT WAS YOU? THE ONE WHO SUGGESTED THE PROCEDURES.”

You shrugged, turning to take a seat behind your desk, looking up at the tall skeleton with a level gaze. “All I did was share some knowledge and hand out some phone numbers. It was nothing.”

Twilight's grin twitched, his hands folded together. You noticed the strained look to his eyes, the wet droplets of pooling magic hidden in the corners.

“...Thank You, I-... I Don't Know How To Repay You….” His voice was soft if not almost hoarse and a moment of silence passed between you. You leaned in, offering him a soft look, not minding the way his hand lifted to wipe at his eyes.

“You're welcome.” You nodded at him, offering a smile. He returned it with a shaky one of his own, and you shared a long look. 

It was a moment before you broke the silence, clearing your throat and sliding a sheet of paper across your desk and pointing it his way.

“As for a way to repay me… Think you’re feeling well enough to work?” You asked, a coy smile softly gracing your expression and as you watched Twilights expression brighten, it was all the answer you needed.

It wasn't long before Twilight started working as your personal assistant - a position left unoccupied for entirely too long, you had realized that fact after spending time in the Underground. It was such a simple thing, but the way it affected your work was massive.

Twilight was a big help, even with the fact that you ever really allowed him to handle light organizational and scheduling tasks whilst healing - you wouldn't put his health at risk over some old, dusty paperwork after all. Working with him was easy, both of you slid into the practiced routine you had developed back at your previous assignment, he handled most of the little things and helped you prioritize your chaotic schedule. What's more is the fact that along with Twilight, you had sneaked in an extra visitor pass as part of his sign-on bonus.

Dusk had been slightly bewildered the first time he had visited your office, his silence daunting even as you threw your greetings at him. He had just stood there, as if trying to remember something just barely out of reach before Twilight had snapped him out of it.

It took a while for him to place you, place the environment, but as you recited one of his cannibalistic puns that he had told you one early morning back at your previous post, his grin shifted and turned wide - his red eyelight dilated as his shoulders relaxed in recognition.

“cupcake.” He drawled out and the word had made you blink up at him in confusion, cupcake?

“BROTHER! USING PET NAMES IN THE OFFICE IS HIGHLY UNPROFESSIONAL!”

“Pet names?”

Was Dusk giving you a pet name? You turned to him, brow raised, a humor filled smile on your face. The giant shrugged, slow, his one big eye watching you with a relaxed familiarity.

“makes it easier… to remember.” He explained in a low rumble. You found it a bit odd, but who were you to judge? Considering how difficult it was for him to remember things - not to mention people - in general, it was flattering to even know that he had made the attempt at recalling you.

“Huh… alright then.” 

Cupcake it was.

Weeks flew by, your new assistant proving his worth many times over as your work intensified, a consequence to the many new monsters filing into temporary housing after your job well done in the Underground. Dusk visited often, mainly during mealtimes to bring both you and his brother food. You had told him that it was alright, that you would make sure to take care of yourself, but he hardly listened - it seemed he gained some sort of enjoyment from it - almost as if finding an old routine and restarting it all over again.

The only issue with your newfound visitors was that your old ones seemed to take issues with them. The first time Black had walked in on the three of you sharing a meal had been messy. He had questioned them, a loud and baffled screech to his tone as he looked for answers to either of them being here - Twilight answered many of them, only to be interrupted by the low growl of his brother by the sudden appearance of Mutt. The skeleton had teleported straight into Dusk's lap, and leaped right out of it in a defensive frenzy as he threw an accusing finger their way.

It had turned into an interrogation, one which you somehow managed to placate and bring to a close, a whining headache growing in your temple from the whole interaction.

Unfortunately their relationship remained strained, they often clashed, throwing each other heated glares and unsatisfied growls whenever they all came to be together in your office. You had tried to resolve it, tried to question both sides what the apparent cause for either of their aggression was, but none of them gave you a straight answer.

It was after one of such fights - concerning who was allowed to go with you to dinner of all things - that you were making your way back to the office. A distracting migraine in your temple and a flurry of thoughts in your mind as you opened the door.

It was three steps into the office when the world spun out on you. 

You fell to your knees, hand clutching your mouth and nose, a sharp, piercing pain in your lungs. 

You had moved it away, a pool of blood dripping through your fingers.

Your vision fell dark, a cold grip on your insides, and the last thing you remembered was the door opening and several panicked shouts of your name.

You had woken up days later, exhausted, confused and in pain. You had been taken to a hospital, the intensive care unit - bed surrounded by several worried eyelights. 

Words of worry, of regret and of anger all muddled in your mind, you could barely make them out in the haze, and as the nurses came in, an accompanying official mage came in with them.

He explained the situation, as well as offered you his condolences.

A tasteless, scentless, airborne poison had been placed in your office, invisible to the naked eye and deadly to all of those who needed to breathe to survive.

It was deemed as an attempt on your life.

The base had flown into an uproar - the political implications of such an assassination attempt were dire, and many an investigation was done all across the premises to determine a possible suspect or suspects - alas, the guilty party had been careful and had left no traces behind.

The situation set alight emotions in you which you would rather not name, thankfully you were spared from death - only due to the fact that you had taken to developing a resistance to poisoning early on in your growth to power. Many did not appreciate a young and solitary mage rising to power, many had shown their disapproval by sending mercenaries and assassins your way. It hadn't been your first time dealing with such things, so pinpointing a possible killer was difficult. There were too many that wished you dead, too many lusting after your seat by the Arch-mage's side.

Unfortunately your resistance to poisons had also been not enough to completely stop it from affecting you. You had lost feeling in all of your extremities - an impossibly numb and heavy feeling that cost you the use of your limbs. 

The healers assured you that they could fix it, that it was only temporary, but it would take time to reach a complete revival of your senses.

You were bedridden, and therefore forced to take medical leave from your post. 

Surrounded by worried colleagues and more than angered skeletons, you assured them of your mental wellbeing - this wasn't your first time dealing with grave injuries, keeping a calm mind was the first step in recovery. You told them simply that there was little you could do but trust that those who worked under you would take care of it. You asked them to keep vigilant, cautioned them about digging too deep into things. The people who would target a high mage were bound to be dangerous, you didn't want to place their lives at risk on account of vengeance.

It was the day after your issued leave that you found yourself at home, a hired nurse in your kitchen preparing you dinner when you noticed something out of place.

An unassuming letter, dyed black, a pure red wax seal keeping it closed and laying on your nightstand. 

You recognized the mark laid on it, and a severe look crossed your eyes. 

It seems you had an old acquaintance to visit.

[confusionism]

"Hey," he replies, his shoulders almost shaking from suppressed mirth, "my eyes are up here." Turning the tables, because he can only imagine the number of times she’s said the same, albeit seriously. Minus the bashfulness, however, Aiden would never actually complain about Anna’s ogling. What gives him pause now is more of their surroundings. The murmur of the crowd, that’s gotten just a little bit louder. “I’m gonna stop.” Fuel for him to put the slightest, barely-noticeable distance between them, “—‘Cause I will start a commotion if you let me keep me going about, you know—” his gaze slides down her smooth curves before returning back up, “—you being down under.”

But it’s definitely a high-issue topic to revisit later. It always is.

For the moment, he refocuses on her curiosity, and it seems like he’s back to his usual self, questioning the world and its dramatic oddities with the faintest quirk in his brow. “About Chelsea, but you know something— I think that dude’s usually got a thing for animals? He did that one movie last year, about a scientist who made friends with an octopus while studying a kelp forest?” He’s suddenly serious when he adds, “—Before that, I think it was about endangered birds.” The history’s pretty interesting. Animals are cool. He just can’t understand the connection between staunch environmentalism and… Sports. Whether it’s the reality of football attracting a more vocal, more viral crowd, or just another example of how people can have a strange mix of interests, he shakes his head. “Hope he’s not saying Chelsea’s going extinct or something.”

Whatever the reasoning for the offer the, he doesn’t truly care what that guy thinks; Aiden’s not about to let some folks with deep pockets make a circus out of his guys. They’re fools, but his fools. Leave it to him to embarrass them. So maybe it’s a little funny, a little odd, a little out of place when he answers,

“I don’t have any friends.” Plain and simple. Aiden knows people — gets paid a hefty sum to know them like the back of his hand — and yet nobody really knows him. It takes about ten seconds for him to think, ‘Well, shit,’ because he doesn’t want this to turn into a pity party. “—Or, like— I’m not like that.” Obviously. “I don’t really have anyone specific I go reaching out to for company.” Background mentality. If they want him there, they’ll ask, and he’ll see if his brain is ready to deal with all of the extra noise. There’s nothing in his posture, his expression, or in his words that indicates even the slightest bit of dissatisfaction.

There’s no sort of judgment or excessive pushiness coming out of Anna, either, yet there’s something… Aiden can’t really describe it. Anna Ricci (the person) magic. The weird stuff that’s got him adding to his ‘a game’ playlist, its energetic name masking the collection R&B jams and other cheesy shit he’s picked out because the vibes remind him of her. “I prefer watching games alone.” His brain’s usually loud enough to fill up the gaps then. “—But I’ll tell you what. Next time I get the invite,” to some gallery opening courtesy of some artistic acquaintance, or even just a lowkey dig hosted by a friendly face, “I’ll take you along.” No questions asked (other than confirming her interest), no hesitations. Even when he tilts his head and asks, “Or is that your way of saying you wanna host at our place?”

Whichever one she’d pick, for she’s built her fair share of new furnishings and filled out the spaces well enough to really make them both homes. Soft warmth courses through his veins at the mere thought, along with the never-ending urge to remind her, “I wanna make it completely clear, though: you’re my MVP.” His first choice for a single call— the only one outside of work he regularly calls, and he’s more than content with that. And just like that, he’s even closer to her, with his hand squeezing back. “I’m not subbing you any time soon.”

"Tony fights anyone who gets between him and the season finale of Love is Blind." Sure, he did it for Anna, for her ever-abundance of loyalty for Aiden. But there's also the reality that Tony's now at Vauxhall, downing shots everytime someone says they're on the island for the "right reasons." Two things can be true. "I didn't start a commotion." Anna lowers her head, like a little girl caught red-handed. No, Aiden's not telling her off. He's echoing her commitment, but still reminding her - there's some things one ought not to do. Getting arrested, or causing a commotion, for one. "And if I did..." By sprinting down the airport, throwing a hundred quid at a kid whose drink she knocked over, and then pouting at an officer...

"I know you'd be there to bail me out." Because Anna may have acted the fairy godmother of the evening. But in every other sense, it's Aiden who sweeps in to save her. Or better yet, show her the way out. The proof is in every new thing she learns to do with him. This is just one of many ways she gives it back, coming closer to brush the nice fabric of his suit. "Or use the nail file on your Swiss army knife and get us both free." Heroes or bandits? The jury's out. Regardless, it's clear now; they only look the part of posh and proper.

Because when Aiden leans in, smelling heavenly and with that look in his eye. With the sort of joke that makes her laugh second, because first, her eyes drop down to the area between his legs. "Fuck me." Anna whispers, eyes wide and brightly scandalized. "And here I thought I just got outta down under." Now, however, her mind's firmly down there...

Which makes her take a half-second longer to register Aiden's answer. "Like, about snow leopards? Or about you and Chelsea?" Documentaries go either way. "I can see that. Like, catching up with Chelsea?" Really, she does it just to tease. Because Aiden can do anything... Except be on a reality TV show.

"Glad you didn't sub in another plus one." Her hand finds his, giving it a small squeeze. "Like Bailey. Or --" Come to think of it, Anna tilts her head; "I should meet some of your friends." Because in the storm of Anna's extroversion, it's assumed she would have met anyone of importance. Yet that's her, not him, and even some need a push.

"You know, friends to watch the game with--" Like Aiden doesn't do that everyday. "Keep you company when I'm away." He's more than capable of taking care of himself. The better one of the pair of them, candidly. And yet, a part of her worries about the long nights spent apart, the dinners eaten alone. "I wanna meet them." Or find them, she thinks. Though, unlikely to find them here.

[overgrownbat]

Do you think Snape ever saw elements of James' personality in Draco? I don't really care either way about James but the way you feel about James is how I feel about Draco.

Oh, hello. I have an ask. Thanks Nonnie!

Beyond an oversimplification of Draco and James being rich pure-blood bullies? No, I don't think so.

Whilst we're given little information as to why or how James is the way he is, Draco is a product of his parents, and the echo chamber that is Slytherin House. They're fundamentally different people, which I think is something Severus would recognise.

To add, Draco, whilst a spoilt brat, doesn't outright misbehave in front of Severus directly, and without having me reread the books entirely to provide a better answer, the one or two altercations I recall have Draco waiting until Severus' back is turned so him making the first move is often missed and the punishment is directed at Harry. (Not that this is the only reason for Severus doing so, but it's a factor.)

To be honest, I think if Severus were to compare Draco to anyone from his schooldays, it'd probably be Lucius. We don't see much of him as a student, but if present-day Lucius' behaviour is anything to go by, I don't think Draco would be far off. However it should be noted that Lucius was the first to accept Severus into Slytherin, and very likely Hogwarts as a whole. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that due to this, any misdemeanor that Lucius, and by extension Draco, commits is likely forgiven in Severus' mind if it's registered as such at all.

Until book six at least, where everything just goes pear-shaped.