#I like the contrast of that with what happens to him

[vmlnrzmp4]

nsfw

cw: reader's first time going full way, 3 different positions, porn w plot, no use of condom(don't be silly, wrap the willy.) a/n: i usually don't give cw, trying to keep the smut a surprise. i have proof read it, but i think there might be some errors. feel free to correct me.

the air around was charged as the shuffling, heavy pants and moans filled the room. it was another one of kaiser's and yours pathetic dry humping session.

his head leaning on the head-rest while his hands gripped your hips, urging your movements to go faster and faster and faster—till the both of you come undone.

you leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder, the room filling with exhausted panting.

"so good angel," he kissed your temple, "so good."

but a word taunted you in your head. you faced him, meeting your eyes with his, "mihya...am i boring?"

"what are you saying angel?" he raised his eyebrow, clearly confused where that came from, "if this is about sex then no, you're not boring."

it had happened a day ago. you had gone out with your friends. sitting in a public cafe, talking about each other's sex life without a care, shamelessly—no matter how many people stared in surprise and disgust.

shortly after you and your friends were kicked out, the first thing they did was to drag you into a pharmacy. they told you to not to worry about the prescription. you wordlessly agree, taking the small rectangular box of birth control pills—so that you can stop with the boring sex life as your friends described it.

was it boring? sure you and your boyfriend never went any further that that and orals. but so lost in enjoying them, you never thought it would be considered boring and you got self conscious. what if he thinks like them? you worried.

"hey," kaiser cradled your face, his voice so gentle, "where did that come from?"

"tell me," you asked firmly, "do you ever wish to go further than this?"

"all the fucking time," he answered without hesitation, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, the lovely guesture contrast to his lewd words.

the silence that followed didn't take much time as you started unbuttoning his shirt. just when you were down to two, he gripped your wrist, "are you sure?"

"yes." your response was quick.

he smirked, giving you a go-ahead and you went back to undoing the buttons, not bothering to even take off the shirt off his shoulders as you ran your fingers on his chest to his abs.

you reached his belt, undoing it—him helping you take it off, discarding it somewhere on the floor unconcernedly. he then pulled over your shirt off, unclipping your bra, also throwing away your shorts alongwith your panties.

he asked you if you were sure again. you nodded but he needed words.

"i want this."

"that's my girl," he presses his face in the crook of your neck, "ride me."

the next moment you found him in you. you didn't move however. he didn't let you. telling you that he had to take care of your tits first, running his hands around them.

"i wanna move," you whined, your hands that rested on his shoulders dug into his skin. it didn't pain him. even if he did, he considered it pleasure.

"patience angel, wanna be a good girl for me, don't you?"

you hummed a yes, "i wanna...but i want to move."

"beg."

"please," you pleaded, "i wanna move, mihya...i wanna feel you more...so badly, please."

he smirked, the corner of his lips tugging upwards in a shit eating grin as he coos at you, nodding at you to proceed.

it took you a bit by surprise when he moaned. yes, kaiser moaned. sure, the little pathetic sessions before had him grunting. but nothing compared to how he moaned now as you kept bouncing on his cock.

but other than that, the sight in front of him was to behold. you were getting there, he could tell by the way your bounces fastened and became irregular, following a certain pattern. his hands gripped your hips so tightly as he helps you bounce, the bed creaking and creaking.

the creaking finally stopped as the two of you reached peak and you slowed down, riding out your high.

"angel," he called out softly, "think you can go one more time?"

"yes, god, yes yes!" so lost in the moment, you threw the shame out of the window, letting arousal take over you.

he positioned you beneath him, as he littered kisses down your neck, collarbone—down to your tits, his tongue circling around your nipples without breaking eye contact.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as he aligned his cock in you. your leg over his shoulder, the other one spread out by his grip as he pounds into you with no mercy, "god," he breaths out, "look at you angel, so beautiful." oh how can his words be so lovely when he's fucking the sweet moans out of you.

"w-wait," you halt him.

"angel?"

"...kiss me, please?" and oh how could he say no? he leaned down, capturing your lips with his into a sweet kiss with simultaneously fucking you. he leans lower, biting into your shoulder, making you hiss.

"mihya...so—" you got interrupted when he hit the spot just right, letting a moan surpass your lips, "so c-close."

he chuckles at your pityful words, stopping and before you could even ask why he did so—he flips you around with a swift motion as his grip on your hips tighten, manhandling you to raise your ass upwards, your face squished in the pillow.

he pounds into you mercilessly from back. the room filling in with his moans, your muffled whimpers, the slapping sounds of the skin and creaking of bed. it was so so lewd.

"fuck angel...im not gonna last any longer. you close?"

you barely managed to choke out a muffled yes. at that, his movements grew erratic, though he didn't slow down.

he knew you came when he hears a loud cry of his name muffled. he thrusts into you a few more times as he cums inside you. pulling out, a groan escapes his lips as he sees his release dripping from your pussy.

he lays besides you, gently urging you to face him as he kisses you. he kisses and kisses. slow, fast, biting, licking. all of it, still having a gentle touch to it.

"you did so good angel," he pecks your forehead, "so good for me." he litters more kisses on your face, pulling you into his embrace, telling you how good you did, whispering sweet nothings.

"let's clean up yeah?" he exhales, "then i'll run to the store real quick."

"no need," you say.

"no need?" he questions, "what d'ya mean?"

"i um...brought plan B."

he lets out an airy laugh, "you were prepared, huh?"

"well..." you go on telling him about the conversation you had the day before. how your friends described their sex life. and when it came to you, they said what you and kaiser do was boring. he laughs at that, pulling you closer, calling you a dummy. he was thankful for it nonetheless.

"c'mon let's shower," he says, tho there was a tease in his tone, "another round?"

[dynaloy]

Gong yoo | salesman x fem!reader

hot obsession

You've always been watching the salesman, intrigued by his coldness and beauty. One night he sees you and follows you to an alley, so many times you imagine him close to your body and finally you feel his touch but he shows you that he's always seen you watching.

As you observed him from afar, something shifted in the air. His gaze, once focused solely on the trembling players while he slapped one, flickered up and met yours. For a moment, time seemed to pause. The world around you grew fuzzy, and the only thing you could see was the knowing smirk that twisted the corner of his mouth. He'd caught you. You felt a strange mix of excitement and fear as he stepped away from the circle of light cast by the solitary street lamp and began to walk in your direction. Your legs threatened to give way, but you remained rooted to the spot, unable to look away from the predator approaching. The clack of his shoes on the pavement echoed through the alley, the sound of fate drawing closer with each step.

All you could focus on was the salesman, his tall figure casting a long shadow that grew as he approached. When he finally stopped in front of you, you had to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. They were like pools of black ink, swirling with secrets and dark promises. He said nothing, merely offered a single card to you—the one you'd been watching him play with all this time. Your hand trembled as you took it, feeling the weight of his stare as he stepped closer, his body heat an invasive force that seemed to melt the cold cobblestone beneath your feet.

Without a word, he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "You've been watching me, haven't you?" His voice was a whispered caress, a stark contrast to the harshness of his demeanor. "I've seen you, every night, hiding in the dark." His hand snaked around your wrist, gripping it firmly, guiding it to his chest. Your pulse raced, matching the tempo of his heartbeat. "Do you know what happens to those who are too curious, little rabbit?" His smile was cold, yet it sent a thrill through you. He knew you were there, he knew you were fascinated, and he was going to make you pay for it.

The alley grew colder as he pushed you against the rough brick wall, his body a wall of heat and danger. His free hand traced the line of your jaw, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip in a silent demand for a response. "I—I don't know," you stuttered, your voice barely audible. His grip tightened, his eyes narrowing. "But you're about to find out." And with that, he claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss, leaving you gasping for air and craving more. This was a game you hadn't anticipated playing with him, but as his tongue danced with yours, you realized you'd been yearning for this moment without even knowing it. The salesman had seen right through your facade of indifference, and now you were his to toy with, to win over, to conquer.

He released you from the kiss, his breath ragged and his eyes gleaming with a newfound hunger. "You want to know what it's like to win?" he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "To feel the rush of victory?" His hand slid down your body, his touch light but insistent. You nodded, unable to form coherent words, your mind a whirlwind of desire and trepidation. "Good," he said, "I'm going to show you just how much you've been underestimating me." His hand found the hem of your shirt, and with one swift motion, he lifted it over your head, his gaze never leaving yours.

The cold night air kissed your bare skin, sending goosebumps racing down your spine. Yet, his touch was anything but cold. It was fiery, possessive, leaving no part of you untouched by the flames of his desire. He traced the curve of your breasts, his thumbs brushing against your hardened nipples. A whimper escaped your lips, and he chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "You're trembling," he noted, his voice a dark purr. "Are you afraid, little rabbit?" He leaned in, his teeth grazing your neck, sending waves of pleasure-pain that had you arching into him. "You should be."

The alley became a cocoon of lust as he unbuckled your pants, sliding them down your legs, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. His hands roamed over your bare skin, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touched. You could feel the hardness of his erection pressing against you, demanding entry. Your heart hammered against your ribcage as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down with agonizing slowness. He stepped back, his eyes raking over your exposed flesh, and you felt a strange thrill knowing you were utterly at his mercy.

The salesman leaned in again, his mouth finding yours in a brutal kiss that stole what was left of your breath. His hand slipped between your legs, his fingers sliding through your wetness, teasing your clit with expert precision. You moaned, your body betraying your fear, begging for more. He chuckled again, the sound a dark symphony in the quiet of the night. "You're going to remember this," he whispered, his breath hot against your cheek. "Remember that I always win." And with that, he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them in a way that had your knees buckling. You clung to him, your body writhing against the wall, desperately seeking relief from the exquisite torture he inflicted. His other hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back as he ravaged your neck, his teeth sinking into your flesh.

The alley spun around you, the world outside forgotten as he claimed your body. His thumb circled your clit, his fingers pumping into you with a rhythm that made your vision swim. The brick wall was cold against your bare back, the contrast with his burning touch making it feel like you were on fire. Your moans grew louder, echoing off the alley walls as you approached the precipice of climax. And just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he stopped, pulling away with a cruel smile. "Not yet," he said, his voice thick with need. "First, I want to hear you beg."

You whimpered, your eyes pleading with him. "Please," you gasped, your voice barely recognizable. "I need you." It was true; you'd never felt this alive, this consumed by another's touch. You have been imagining how was his touch while you would use your dildo but it was not even close to this reality. He smirked, his eyes gleaming with a dark triumph. "Say it," he demanded, his thumb stroking your swollen clit with maddening gentleness. "Beg me to let you come." You hated how much you wanted to give in to him, how much you needed his cruel game to end in sweet release.

But you didn't dare to disobey. "I—I beg you," you whispered, the words leaving your mouth with a sense of both humiliation and excitement. "Please, let me win." He chuckled, his teeth flashing in the moonlight. "Very well," he said, and with that, his hand resumed its relentless pace. You felt your orgasm building again, the pressure coiling tight in your core. This time, when it broke, it was like a dam bursting, a wave of pleasure that crashed over you and left you shuddering against the wall, your nails digging into the bricks.

As the tremors subsided, you slumped against the cold brick, panting and trembling. He stepped back, adjusting his own clothing with a sense of calm that seemed almost inhuman. "You've had your taste," he said, his voice now cold and detached. "But remember, in the grand scheme of things, this was just a warm-up." His eyes searched yours, looking for the understanding, the acceptance of your new role as his conquest. You nodded, your throat tight with a mix of fear and excitement.

He leaned in one last time, his mouth a mere breath from yours. "Next time," he murmured, "we play for keeps." With that, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the alley until they were swallowed by the night. You stood there for a moment, trying to regain your composure, trying to understand what had just happened. But all you could think was that you couldn't wait for the next game to begin. You were hooked, and he knew it. The salesman had claimed you, marked you as his, and you were ready to face whatever twisted challenge he had in store, just for the chance to feel his touch again.

[dulcescorderitas]

𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓷 𝓹𝓻𝓪𝔂𝓼

warnings: somewhat religious

dean sat at the edge of the motel bed, his hands clasped tightly together, knuckles white. the world carried on beyond those thin walls, but inside, time seemed to stand still.

dean wasn’t one to pray. not really. even after everything—angels, demons, the apocalypse—faith wasn’t something he carried easily. but tonight, he was desperate. his gaze flickered over to the bed where you lay, your breathing shallow, face pale, a stark contrast to your usual vibrant self.

"alright," dean muttered, voice low, rough around the edges from hours of tension. "i don't know if anyone's listening. hell, i don't know if you even care. but i need you to. i need you to help her." his voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, trying to hold it together. "she doesn't deserve this."

the room seemed heavier, the silence pressing in around him as he struggled to find the right words. "i'm not askin' for much. just... fix her. do whatever it is you do, but don't take her from me. she’s... she’s the reason i can keep doing this, the reason i don’t lose it when everything else goes to hell."

dean's jaw clenched, and he exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging with the weight of it all. "you wanna punish someone? take me. i’m the one who screws up, the one who’s got a mile-long list of sins. but not her. she’s got more to do, more people to save, more life to live."

a soft moan broke through the quiet, and dean's head snapped up. you stirred, your eyelids fluttering before they opened just a sliver.

"dean?" your voice was barely above a whisper, but it was enough to make him move, shifting to sit closer to you, relief washing over his face.

"hey, hey, i'm here," he said softly, his usual gruffness tempered by the worry etched into his features. "you’re okay."

you tried to sit up, wincing as pain shot through your body. dean was there in an instant, his hand on your shoulder, gently easing you back down. "hey, take it easy," he murmured. "you gave me one hell of a scare."

your lips curved into a faint smile, despite the pain. "what... happened?"

dean hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "hunt went sideways. you got hurt. bad. i’ve been sitting here, waiting for you to wake up."

you looked at him, your eyes searching his face. "how long?"

"too long," dean admitted, his voice quieter. he glanced away, as if ashamed of the vulnerability he’d just shown. "i, uh... i might’ve prayed a little."

your eyes widened in surprise. "you prayed?"

dean shrugged, a bit of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "don’t make a big deal out of it. just... felt like the right thing to do."

you reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand. "thank you," you whispered, your eyes softening. "for staying."

dean’s hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "always," he said, his voice low but firm. "you’re stuck with me, remember?"

you smiled again, this time a little brighter, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like a blanket. "good," you whispered, letting your eyes drift shut, comforted by his presence.

dean sat back, his gaze never leaving you. the weight on his chest eased just a little, and for the first time in hours, he allowed himself to hope.

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis

[7brownsuga7]

Santas naughty little helper (Toji Christmas special)

Summary: Toji fucks you dressed as Santa during work hours. Oops

Note: okay so I know Christmas is over but I JUST found this in my drafts and I’m not waiting a whole year to post this. So enjoy Santa Toji💋 Mimi -

You knew Toji was picking up extra jobs to earn more cash, but you didn’t expect to see him dressed as Santa in the neighborhood. You’d never seen a Santa as fit as Toji before, but you weren’t complaining. Neither were the kids—at least they got to see Santa in the end.

After waiting in line, it was finally your turn. You sat on his lap, giggling at the fake beard glued to his face. He had noticed you earlier in the queue, his cock instantly hardening in his pants, and the moment you sat down, his eyes darkened, and something shifted in his expression.

You settle down on his lap, feeling the strength of his thighs under you. “You’ve been working hard Santa”, you teased, voice low enough only for him to hear.

Toji leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear as he growled, "Careful, sweetheart, or i’ll show you just how hard Santa can get." His hand settled firmly on your waist, fingers squeezing just enough to send a spark of heat through you.

You giggled, leaning back to trace a finger along his chest. "What, in front of all these kids?"

His dark chuckle sent a shiver down your spine.“Santa needs a break, kids,” he suddenly announced, his voice low and gravelly as he stood abruptly, effortlessly pulling you along with him. The kids groaned in disappointment, but Toji was already steering you toward the back of the makeshift Santa grotto.

The moment you were out of sight, Toji pressed you against the wall, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that took your breath away. His hands roamed possessively, tugging your hips against his. "You just had to tease me, didn't you?" he muttered, his voice low and full of heat.

You gasped as his hand slid under your skirt, rough fingers teasing along your thighs. "Toji, someone could catch us," you whispered, but the thrill in your voice betrayed you.

"Let them," he growled, nipping at your neck. "They'll just see Santa taking what's his."

You barely had time to process what was happening before Toji's lips crashed into yours, his kiss hot and demanding. He pushed you firmly against the door, his body towering over you. His hand cupping the back of your neck while the other grips your hip, pulling you hard against him. The fake beard brushed against your skin, but you couldn't care less, it was the fire in his kiss, the raw hunger, that had you melting under him.

"Walking in here looking like that, all innocent, how long were you planning on teasing me?"

Your cheeks flushed, but you smirked up at him, sliding your hands down his chest to play with the buckle of his belt. "Maybe I just wanted to see how long it would take Santa to snap."

He let out a low chuckle, the sound sending a shiver through you. "Oh, you're going to regret that, sweetheart."

In one swift motion, he spins you around, pressing your chest against the cool door.

His hands are everywhere, roaming your sides, gripping your thighs, trailing up your skirt. You gasp when he smacks your ass, the sharp sting making heat pool in your core.

"Toji!" you hissed, glancing back at him with wide eyes.

"What?" he teased, mocking an innocent tone as he slides your panties down your legs. "You said you wanted Santa to snap. Don't act shy now."

He drops to his knees behind you, his rough hands parting your thighs as his lips press against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His beard scrapes lightly against you, a sharp contrast to the soft heat of his tongue as he licks a slow, teasing line along your folds.

"Fuck," you whimper, your forehead pressing against the door as he works you over, his tongue circling your clit with infuriating precision. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as you buck against his mouth.

“Keep still” he grunts, tilting his face slightly to get a better angle.

But you can’t, it’s too much, he’s always known how to work his tongue. You can feel your wetness, the cold air hitting your bare skin, despite the heat of his mouth on you.

"You taste so good," he murmurs, his voice muffled against you. "I could stay down here all day."

But you weren't sure how much more you could take, your body trembling as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

When his lips wrap around your clit and suck on the sensitive skin, you cry out, your release crashing over you in waves.

You’re still catching your breath as he stands up, his belt already undone and his cock springing free. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he presses his length against your soaked pussy.

"Ready to really feel Santa's 'gift'?" he teases, sliding just the tip in before pulling back out again.

"Toji, please," you whimper, pushing your hips back against him.

"Begging already?" he chuckles darkly, gripping your hips as he thrust into you fully.

You both groan at the feeling, his cock stretching you perfectly. "That's more like it."

His pace is brutal. His hips snapping against yours as the sound of skin slapping skin fills the small room.

Each thrust pushes you harder against the door, your hands scrambling for support as he drives you higher and higher.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he growls, his grip on your curvy hips sure to leave bruises. "You feel so good, baby."

Your moans were uncontrollable now, with every thrust you can feel yourself closer and closer to the edge. Toji reaches around to rub quick, firm circles against your clit, and it isn’t long before you’re coming undone again, your walls clenching around him as you cry out his name.

"Good girl," he praises, his voice rough as he chases his own release. A few more thrusts, and he’s spilling into you with a deep groan, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he catches his breath.

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, tangled together in the aftermath. Then Toji leans back, a smug grin spreading across his face as he pulls out.

"Looks like Santa gave you exactly what you needed," he said, tucking himself back into his pants.

You roll your eyes but couldn't fight the smile tugging at your lips. "You're annoying."

"And you love it," he shoots back, helping you straighten your clothes. "Now, be a good girl and wait for me at home. Santa's got a few more kids to disappoint before he's done for the night."

[leonastarry]

Hellloooo! I love your work it’s soooo gooooddd!!!!!❤️❤️

Could I request sung Jin woo with an a previous e rank now s ranker like him. Someone who’s already been by his side when he was e rank and level up like he did to s rank.

[ Req 9 ] By your side. ✧. ┊    s.jinwoo x reader

You have been by Jinwoo's side ever since he became a hunter. At first, it was probably due to sympathy since you were both E-rank, but gradually you two became close and inseparable.

The two of you faced the Double Dungeon incident, systematically, and grew stronger together.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The training grounds were quiet, save for the faint hum of mana crackling in the air. Sung Jinwoo stood at the center, his shadows coiled tightly around him, waiting for a signal. Across from him, you adjusted your grip on the twin blades in your hands, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Don’t hold back,” you called out.

He raised an eyebrow. “You sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your laugh echoed through the space. “You’d have to catch me first.”

Jinwoo’s gray eyes gleamed. “Alright. Don’t regret this.”

In an instant, he moved, a blur of darkness and power. Shadows erupted from the ground, reaching for you like inky tendrils. But you were faster. A flash of light burst from your blades, slicing through the shadows with ease. You danced around his attacks, your movements fluid and precise, a stark contrast to the clumsy stumbles he remembered from years ago.

Back then, you were just like him—weak, underestimated, struggling to survive. The two of you had clung to each other in those days, finding solace in shared determination. He remembered the long nights you spent sparring, bruised and battered but laughing through the pain.

Now, as he watched you effortlessly deflect his strongest attacks, Jinwoo couldn’t help but marvel at how far you’d come.

“Not bad,” he admitted, stepping back to catch his breath.

You smirked, flipping your blade with a flourish. “Not bad? Jinwoo, I’m wiping the floor with you.”

He couldn’t argue with that. Even Beru, watching from the sidelines, buzzed nervously, clearly impressed by your strength.

“Alright,” Jinwoo said, shadows swirling around him once more. “Let’s see how you handle this.”

He summoned Igris, the towering knight stepping forward with his sword drawn. But instead of panicking, you grinned, meeting the knight’s attack head-on. Your mana surged, a radiant shield bursting forth to block the blow before you retaliated with a strike that sent Igris stumbling.

“Still think I need your protection?” you teased, flicking your blade against Jinwoo’s armor just hard enough to make him flinch.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No. But I’ll admit, it’s a little weird. You used to struggle just to keep up during training.”

“And you too. Times change,” you said, stepping closer. “But some things don’t. Like the fact that you still try to take everything on by yourself.”

He looked at you, startled by the soft edge to your voice.

“You don’t have to do that anymore,” you said quietly. “I’m here, Jinwoo. Just like I’ve always been. And I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. The weight of his journey had been heavy, but knowing you were by his side made it feel a little lighter.

“Thanks,” he said finally, his voice low.

You smiled, reaching out to flick his forehead lightly. “Don’t mention it. Now, are we done, or do I need to keep proving I’m stronger than you?”

He grinned, a competitive gleam in his eyes. “Oh, we’re far from done.”

And with that, the two of you dove back into the fight, laughter mingling with the clash of blades and the hum of mana.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Later, the whole world knew about this S-rank duo. If Jinwoo is there, you will be there, wherever you go, Jinwoo will accompany you. The two of you will continue to roam freely, making the world stunned and in awe.

And no matter what happens in the future, you two will definitely always be together, never to be separated.

Thanks for loving my story.

Hope this can make you happy 💗

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Crazy, What You’ll Do for a Friend

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

Summary: After Hotch gets hurt out in the field, you and the other members of the BAU take turns taking care of Hotch at his home. Reader want to make sure she can help Hotch in whatever way she can.

CW: Hotch having an attitude bc of course he does, sex fantasy, needy!Hotch, oral m!receiving, fingering

a/n: Hotch is literally the master of flirting when he isn’t at work I cannot with him, this is more short and sweet than most my stories

This is the other Fanfic from the poll!

~~~

Reid answered the door. Bright smile on his face greeting you, “Hey.”

“Hey,” you smiled back at him.

“Come on in,” Reid moved out of the doorway allowing you to pass by him. You waited in the entry way for Reid to close the door.

“How is he?”

“Uhm— good. Mad that we’re here,” he laughed awkwardly.

You cocked an eyebrow, silently. A few weeks ago, Hotch had gotten caught up in the line of fire. Getting struck in his thigh and stomach. Lucky to not have bled out on the field. The day was a harsh memory that you refused to let go. Making sure to never let anyone else make the same mistakes as him again. Never feeling weaker than seeing him in the hospital bed. The Team had all agreed to take care of Hotch while he was on home rest. Taking shifts throughout the weeks.

You followed behind Reid into the living room.

“What are you doing here?” Hotch gritted through his teeth. Only wearing some loose fitting sweat pants and a tight white t-shirt. A strong contrast from his usual suit and tie. Straining as he attempted to get off the couch by himself. Reid rushed over to him, lifting him by his shoulder. Hotch swatted at the Doctor, attempting to jerk away.

“We’re all taking turns helping you. Guess I’m on Hotch Duty for tonight,” you shrugged your shoulders, giving him a closed mouth smile.

Hotch’s brows furrowed tightly, vein on his neck popping. “I don’t need help. What I need is to get back to work,” Hotch pushed Reid away as he finally got to his feet. Reid threw his hands up in a defensive position still close behind your boss.

“Yeah, it really looks like it,” you rolled your eyes as you folded your arms over your chest.

Hotch shot a chilling look your way, but you were unwavering. “I’m still your superior—“

“And right now I’m your caretaker. I’m sure Reid has been letting you boss him around, but I’m not going to let that happen. No offense, Spence,” you stated. Spencer waved his hand up to let you know he was not offended.

Hotch’s hand gripped the arm of the couch with a bruising strength. Barely able to hold himself up properly. A slight shake to his body. Angry that you, of all people, were talking to him this way. Fighting the way his heart swelled as soon as his eyes laid upon you in his living room today.

You and Hotch had grown close in the last few years. Growing into a mutual unspoken want for one another. Casually flirting when you were alone or not at work. Keeping each other company on extremely late nights at the office. Getting closer than you realistically should, given the field you worked in.

“Reid, you can go,” Hotch did not break eye contact with you.

“A-Are you sure—“

“We’ll be fine, Spence,” you smiled eyes locked in on Hotch’s.

Reid grabbed his bag and headed for the door, “If you guys need anything I’m only a text away.”

“Thank you,” you said still not breaking with Hotch. His deep brown eyes made your heart skip a beat. The wrinkles on his face as he attempted to intimidate made you blush. Not speaking until the door closed behind Reid.

“Are you gonna have an attitude with me all night?” You teased, cheeks beaming with heat. Hotch blew air out of his nose. Skin tightly pinched between his eyebrows. Refusing to speak to you. “Oh, come on. Your favorite boy is gone, you don’t have to keep up the mean-mug,” you walked over closing the space between you. Extending your arm out to him so that he could brace himself to walk.

His jaw clenched. Stubbornness being a strong suit of his. Hesitantly taking your offer of help. “Where are we heading?”

“I need to use the bathroom,” Hotch grumbled.

Slowly, you assisted him to the bathroom tucked away next to his living room. Standing in the doorway as you allowed him to shimmy himself over to the toilet. Not even thinking of what you were doing, until Hotch gave you a strange look.

“Are you wanting to watch?”

Your face flooded. Stammering as you cupped your own cheek. Shaking your head with closed eyes. Smiling awkwardly, “Sorry—“

Hotch had to fight the smile that dared creep across his face. Enjoying how flustered you were. You reached in to pull the door shut. Leaning against the wall directly next to the bathroom. Hands gripping your hair in embarrassment as you replayed the moment over and over. Trying to cool the heat in your cheeks.

Straightening your posture when you heard the door click open. Greeting him with a soft smile and your arm extended. His brows were still pressed together. Lips in a thin line as he hooked his arm around yours. Leading him back into the living room so that he could get comfortable.

The night slipped away. Preparing dinner for your boss as he sat at the counter. Dying to get up. Hating to be taken care of. Denying the comfort he felt with you nestled in his home.

“Hotch, I can hear you bouncing your leg, cut it out,” you did not even look over your shoulder to give him eye contact. He scoffed, the sound of his leg subsiding.

“I know you hate all this. Really I do,” you softly spoke to him as you plated the food, “But all of us just want to see you get better. We want our leader back in his best shape. I want you to relax and let me take care of you.”

Hotch’s eyes watched every move you made. Stalking you like his prey as you brought the plate over to him. Expression unchanging, “How am I supposed to relax? There’s cases and I’ve been away so long already. I can’t stay cooped up here forever.”

“And you won’t. The sooner you take it easy, the sooner you can come back,” you flattened your hand against his shoulder. Hotch’s expression softened with your gesture. Swiftly directing his attention onto the food in front of him. Something about the interaction caused your cheeks to warm up. Unsure what that was about. Walking over to his fridge.

“What can I get you to drink?”

“Just water,” Hotch took a bite of food.

“Aw, you don’t wanna crack open a bottle of wine and reveal our darkest secrets to each other?” You teased, looking over your shoulder at him. Seeing his brows pushed together. Lips in a strong, straight line.

“Okay— tough crowd,” you widened your eyes as you closed the fridge. Going to grab a cup out of the cabinet to fill it for him. Walking over and taking the seat beside him. Silently eating dinner together. Guess you did not have much to talk about. And he was clearly in no mood to chit-chat.

“You’re a good cook,” Hotch broke the silence with a compliment.

“You’re telling me Reid didn’t prepare you a four coarse, perfectly diet-balanced meal while he was here?” You teased. Finally, breaking away Hotch’s hard shell. A soft chuckle coming from him. “I’m sure he would’ve had a slideshow to explain it all too,” you grinned.

“He wouldn’t need the slideshow, he could explain it all to me himself,” Hotch joked as he pulled the food from his fork. Feeling comfortable for the first time together. Allowing both your walls down. Sharing in your laughter.

You both finished your dinner. Taking the plates and putting them in the sink. Allowing Hotch to walk on his own to put his away. Standing beside him the entire time. You interlocked arms with him to lead him into the living room. Grunting as he sat down, eyes closing as he rested his head against the back.

“Is there anything I can do for you? I’ll do whatever you need to relax,” you smiled, standing in front of him.

Something about that seeped into his imagination. Feeling his cock jump when an imagine of you kneeled between his legs popped into his mind. With everyone here, he had not had any alone time. Needing to let out some of the things pent up inside him. Your lips wrapped perfectly around his cock—

“No,” Hotch blurted out. Aggression returning to him. Catching you off guard and causing a bit of frustration to bubble up inside you. You scoffed and headed into the kitchen to do the dishes, “Don’t try anything while I’m in there.”

Once you disappeared around the corner, he relaxed again. Clicking mindlessly through the channels on the TV. Trying to distract himself. Looking down at his half-hard cock. Embarrassed that he was thinking of one of his subordinates in the way he was. Still he allowed himself to fantasize.

Imagining how beautiful you would look sat upon his lap. Straddling his waist as you sunk down onto him. Thinking about how you would sound moaning his name when the head would hit somewhere just right inside you. Dying to know how perfectly he would fill you up. He needed something— anything from you.

Allowing his hand to softly touch his aching member. Only making things worse for him. His face contorted as he squinted his eyes shut. Mouth hanging open slightly.

God, he was such a pervert.

Jumping when he heard the water stop in the sink. Footsteps enclosing on the room. In the time you had done the dishes, you had calmed down from Hotch’s outburst. Knowing and rationalizing that he was going through a lot and sometimes he would be more vulnerable than others. Greeting him with a bright smile. Grabbing your bag off the kitchen chair, “Do you mind if I go change?”

“Of course not,” Hotch breathed out.

“I’ll know if you strain while I’m gone,” you smirked.

Hotch grinned back at you. Watching you until you faded away into the bathroom, door clicking behind you. Thank God he had one of the best poker face’s around. Finally allowing himself to breathe.

His erection pressed against the soft fabric of his sweats. Driving him absolutely insane. He pondered if he would have time to rub it out before you got back from changing. Softly playing with himself as he thought. Groaning at the feeling of his fingers trailing his length. Trying to control his breathing as to not make any overtly sexual sounds.

Oh, God, how he needed it. His cock pulsed with pure desire. Something he did not think his hand alone could fill. He felt pathetic. Preparing to ask you what he was going to.

The door creaked open. You came back to see him still in the same spot as before. He looked over his shoulder, eyes widening when he saw you. Wearing a loose fit t-shirt and some sporty shorts. Hair relaxed and quite a bit of skin showing.

“Hope you don’t mind, your house kinda runs hot,” you smiled, suddenly aware of his eyes on your body. Loving the attention he was giving. Blushing as his jaw hung open softly.

There were not many occasions where members of the BAU saw each other outside of work. Normally dressed in business attire, making sure to look extremely respectable and professional. Used to the button-ups and slacks. Not a shirt that perfectly hugged your chest and some shorts that were barely revealed under the length of your top.

As if he wasn’t hard enough already.

You sat on the other end of the couch beside him. Only a small pillow between your bodies. Legs crossing, causing your shorts to hike further up your thighs. Revealing the extra soft spots closer to your core.

“Anything good on?”

Hotch hesitated, “No.”

You widened your eyes at his short answer. Not sure what had gotten him so irritable in the last bit. Not wanting to push him. Choosing to stay quiet as you leaned against the arm of the couch. Watching some old sci-fi movie he had landed on. They were shooting out with some aliens. No telling what over, the movie was half way over by the time Hotch got to it.

The glow of the TV was all that illuminated the room. Flashes of colors dancing across your skin. Silently staring at the flat screen. Thinking about nonsense, just trying to feed your mind.

“Y/N,” Hotch began, hint of a break in his voice. You looked over at him. He had sweat beaming on his forehead. “You… you said earlier that you would help me in whatever way you could?”

You nodded, “Of course, Hotch. I’m here to please.”

His skin tingled. The innocent look behind your eyes pushing him even more on edge. He was silently opening and closing his mouth. Brows netted together as he breathed heavy. Tension so thick in the room neither of you could catch your breath.

“This is so inappropriate,” he softly chuckled to himself, stretching his neck, voice not above a whisper. Feeling your own heartbeat pound out of your chest. Hotch sighed, “I need to cum.”

Your eyes flew harshly open. Lips parting as you attempting to respond to him. Face immediately flushing with arousal as you clinched around nothing. Eyes shooting down to his crotch. Surprised to see the outline of his cock pressing against his pants. Thin, soft material not hiding his length.

“Either you can help me, or I need you to leave the room so I can handle it myself,” Hotch quickly said, desperation on his tone.

“Do you… want… me to-to help?” You shyly questioned.

Hotch smiled with an exhale. Perfect teeth on display for the first time tonight as he closed his eyes and leaned against the back of the couch. Blinking open to lock into you, “Yes.”

Such a simple statement. Causing so much confusion inside you. Of course, you had been flirting back and forth for some time now. And yes the idea of seeing Hotch’s cock, especially how it fit in your hand, had your body tingling.

But what about work?

What would your coworkers say? What would your superiors say? What if this was only for tonight?

You threw caution to the wind. Choosing to have some fun with him, even if you never spoke of this again.

You crawled closer to him on the couch, Hotch’s arm wrapping around your back when you sat on your knees. One of his hands coming up to grip at your t-shirt. Pulling the collar down with his finger and looking down it. Smiling at the sight of your lightly covered breasts. Blushing at how natural his hands felt on you. Leaning in to place your lips on his neck. Breath hitching in his throat at the soft feeling.

“Did you do this with all the other girls?” You asked between kisses, genuine curiosity and a bit of shame taking over your senses.

“Of course not,” Hotch exhaled, “You know it’s only you.”

You kissed up his jugular, resting along his jawline. Hotch’s smile never left his face as you feathered your lips along his skin. Hand running strong fingers up and down your back. Your own hand gently ghosting down his front to rest on his hard cock.

Hotch’s body twitched, causing him a small amount of pain. Wincing as he squinted his eyes. “I’m so sorry—“

“Don’t be,” Hotch’s hand came up to cup your cheek. Pulling you into a passionate kiss. Lightning stimulated your nerves at his taste and feeling. Both of you humming together. Tongue slipping past your lips as it grazed your teeth. Hunger apparent by the way he held onto you. Smiling as you became overwhelmed with emotions.

“What?” Hotch asked, unable to stop himself from returning your expression. Cheeks glowing.

“I just… just wanna know what’s got you all worked up?” pressing your lips back to his as your hand outlines his shaft. Hotch’s throat tightened at your touch. Breathy and clingy.

“I’ve been locked up here, not even a second of alone time, for weeks. And when you have nothing else to do, your mind wanders. And mine kept going to the same place time and time again,” toothy grin taking over his expression as he continuing caressing your face.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, not saying anything back.

“You’re going to tell me you don’t masturbate?” Hotch chuckled, an offensive hint on his tone.

Your face flooded red as you remembered the last time you had. Remembering the image of Hotch’s body above yours, strong arms flexing on either side of your head, hips pumping into yours as he held eye contact.

“I… um— yeah, I do. I have a vibrator in my night stand,” you kissed him again. Loving how his shaft hardened against your touch.

“Hmm,” he hummed against your lips, “Wish you’d brought it with you.”

“Hotch,” you giggled, playful embarrassment in your voice.

“I know you look so pretty when you orgasm,” Hotch smiled between kisses. Your heart thumped in your chest. Overwhelmed in the best way possible. Fingers continuing to lightly rub against his length.

“Probably really pretty with your mouth around my cock too,” Hotch’s hand held onto the back of your head. Keeping your mouth against his.

“God- you are needing aren’t you?” You chuckled into his mouth. The two of you shared in making flirtatious noises. Continuing to latch onto one another’s mouths. Slowly sliding into the floor between his legs. Fluttering your lashes up at him as you leaned forward to play with his waistband.

“Please,” Hotch squinted his eyes closed. Jaw tensed and Adam’s apple bobbing.

Slowly, you helped raise his hips so that you could pull his sweatpants down his legs. Taking your time to make sure he did not have to overwork his body. Mouth watering when you saw the tent pitched in his boxer-briefs. Flattening your hands against his thighs, framing his cock.

Hotch’s hand tethered in your hair, lust blown eyes admiring you below him. Moaning when your lips pressed a kiss against his clothed member. Freeing his cock from its confides. Taking in all the details. Thick and swollen, vein running over the top side as his head leaked. Tongue licking a stripe up the underside.

Hotch rutted forward, moaning loudly as he gripped the couch for stability. Head leaned forward to watch you. Your hand gripped him at the base. Stroking upward with a twist of your wrist. Thumb swiping over the slit to collect the precum. Loving how his velvety skin felt in your palm.

Tender lips kissed along his shaft before sucking on the head.

“Oh my God,” Hotch groaned. Trying his hardest to not move. Not wanting to take away from the pleasure by causing himself pain. His brows upturned and jaw hung open as he watched you go lower onto him.

Stopping when your nose met the soft hair at his base. Gagging around him momentarily. Taste of him overwhelming any other sense you had. Your tongue flattened underneath him as you began to bob. Almost completely coming off him before going down again.

“So good,” Hotch praised breathlessly. Causing your own arousal to pool inside you. Wishing you could crawling into his lap and take his cock inside you. Knowing his body was in no shape for that kind of physical activity.

Having him squirm from your mouth would have to do for now.

Hotch looked so beautiful with his face all flushed and shoulders heaving. Chest rapidly rising and falling as he audibly breathed. Your hand came up to wrap around his base once more, allowing your lips to meet your fingers with each movement. Causing you to move much faster than before.

“Y/N,” Hotch moaned.

Feeling his cock twitch between your lips. His end was nearing. Continuing at the pace you had given him. Sloppy sounds coming from your mouth as your tongue swirled around his length.

“I’m close,” Hotch breathed out. His veins on his neck poking out as he strained back. Sounds of him whimpering and grunting was like music to your ears. Salty taste filling your mouth as he approached his finish. Twisting your wrist and going down further on him. Coaxing him to his end.

Hotch’s hand gripped the back of your hand with strong fingers as he came. Breath hitching in his throat as his jaw hung open. Looking down to watch you swallow the ropes of cum he shot into your mouth. Hand traveling down to caress your cheek when he was done. Thumb rubbing circles into your flushed cheeks.

You caught your breath as you doed your eyes up at him. Smiling as you rested your head into his hand. Licking your lips to get any remnants of him off your face.

Hotch patted the seat beside him. Instructing you to come sit with him once more. You rested your head on his shoulder as his arm wrapped around your lower back. Grateful lips kissing your head.

Finding a position that was comfortable for you both as you rested your eyes. Engulfed by his body heat and musk. His heartbeat thumped against your ear. The day catching up with you as you relaxed.

“We can go lay in bed,” Hotch softly suggested.

You nodded. Standing to your feet to help him up. Shuffling down the hallway as Hotch limped holding onto you. Walking him over to his large mattress. Hotch smiled up at you, fingers holding onto your hand as you stood in front of him. Looking like a lovesick fool before you. Causing you to blush because it was you that had him looking like that. Smiling wider than you had ever seen him.

“Are you sure… that you want me in here? If you’d rest better, I can go—“

“Don’t even try,” Hotch grinned, pulling your hand to his lips and gently kissing. Tugging you into the bed with him. Landing directly beside him. Giggling as you snuggled under the blanket with him. Hotch’s lips kissed every piece of skin he could. Coating you in his love.

“That was the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten,” Hotch’s lips finally found yours. Smiling with a soft chuckle ending his sentence.

“Glad I could help,” you scrunched your nose up with a smile. His hand caressed your cheek again, dark eyes scanning your entire face. Seeing you this close for one of the first times. Finally taking the time to look at every freckle, blemish, scar, or any other beauty mark you had. Never having had someone look at you the way he was now.

Your eyes were growing heavy. Blinking slowly until a yawn came over you. Rolling over to allow Hotch to hold you from behind. Closing your eyes as the plush of his pillows captured you.

His hand snaked around your front. Causing your chest to tighten when you felt him prying at your shorts. His nose trailed the valley of your neck and shoulder. Fingers going down the front of your panties.

“Aaron…?“

“Let me repay you,” Hotch whispered into your ear.

“You don’t owe me anything,” you sighed when his fingertips swiped over your sensitive bud.

“If I can’t fuck you, let me make you cum around my fingers,” Hotch’s deep voice vibrated into your skin. Fingers finding their way into your soaked folds. Circling them before inserting one. Causing you to arch into him and moan. A hum of approval came from him.

Curling his finger inside you as he massaged your insides. Thumb pressing into your clit. Shooting electricity through your veins. Your hand coming up to tangle in his hair. Locks lacing through your fingers. Your jaw hung open at the feeling of him adding an additional digit. Stretching you perfectly.

“Aaron,” you moaned, Hotch held your hand above your head. Fingers gently interlocking with yours while the air from his lips casted across your skin.

“Go ahead, I want to hear you,” Hotch kissed your shoulder.

You moaned at his words.

“Oh, pretty girl,” he cooed.

That familiar knot was tightening in your lower half. Hotch knew how to use his fingers. Causing your thighs to quiver and body to jolt. Sounds of him breathing filling your ears, sounding intoxicated by you. Never wanting you to leave his side.

You felt your pussy clench around his fingers. Insides growing more and more sensitive when he would hit the spongy spots.

“Are you gonna cum for me?”

You nodded aggressively. Whining as you rolled your hips against his fingers. Feeling his semi-hard cock press into your ass. Sweat dripped down your skin. Your heartbeat was in your ears as you felt your orgasm washing over you. Walls fluttering around Hotch’s fingers. Moaning his name like a mantra. Grinding down on his hand as your thighs shook.

Hotch smiled against your skin. Loving how you sounded begging and calling out to him. Wishing he could fuck you senseless. Wanting nothing more than to fill you up.

“I knew you’d look pretty orgasming,” lips kissed your cheek. You breathed heavily, grinning at his cocky voice. Rolling over to press your lips into his. Arms wrapping around his neck. Finally finding yourself the most comfortable you had been yet.

Drifting to sleep in his arms.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate all the love I’ve gotten since writing for Hotch and love seeing everyone reply and comment and everything! As always, my requests are open! I have a Rossi x Reader planned in the next few days that was requested so keep an eye out for that! //

{tags}

@bondwithme-murderstyle ~ @mrs-ssa-hotch ~ @cherriready ~ @khxna ~ @justyourusualash ~ @boybandbaby ~ @hoffmanfan13 ~ @megangovier

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every Day Until Season 5

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ Day 10: End of Season 3 pt 1/3 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Yep, there are going to be three parts to this because there simply is just so much to talk about regarding the ending of S3, and I think it's one of the most pivotal scenes for byler and mileven. I'm going to start off by talking about the contrast between Mike and Will's goodbye scene versus Mike and El's.

Prior to this scene, we see through the whole season that Mike and Will drift apart due to Mike being in a relationship with El and prioritising that over anything else. The story really is about Will being sad that he's drifting apart from Mike, DND being the medium that it's being told through. Basically, DND is the symbol for their relationship and we see that, immediately, Mike is worried that Will is going to throw away their friendship/connection when he goes to California.

This whole scene is literally just a double meaning. It uses DND and childhood memories like that as a stand-in for how they feel about each other.

Will then saying this^^ basically is him asking if him and Mike will still be friends when he comes back to Hawkins and whether things will still be the same between them.

With this, Mike could just be asking if Will is going to make another friend group that he prefers to the original Party. But I don't think he alone is worried for Dustin and Lucas as well, they could have easily had a group scene, but this whole DND arc has really focused on Mike and Will, showing that their relationship is special, and that DND is more of a stand-in symbol of their relationship too.

He sounds worried and anxious, and this makes sense to close their arc in season 3, since it leads into the next season where they have problems about Mike being worried that he's 'losing Will'.

This scene is basically:

Mike: "What if you want to be friends with someone else? Not just friends, but have our specific friendship?"

Will: "LITERALLY NEVER. WILL NEVER HAPPEN."

This scene really erases any doubt that they're just gonna have Will get a new love interest, especially at the very end of season 5. This scene is just another scene to perpetuate the idea that Will is committed to Mike, and the fact that the creators knew in this moment that Will was in love with Mike, just proves that even more. Along with the quote 'Yeah [I] need you, Mike. And [I] always will' in S4.

Afterwards as well, the smiles they give to each other are literally the flirtiest thing ever I can't even watch it without getting some vibes I don't know how anyone could ever think that they are just straight dudes having a moment yea sure

Now onto my next point about this scene. The end of S3 has all these little scenes because they are transitions scenes from S3 to S4, kind of like at the end of S1 and S2 to show you which stage the characters are at in their relationships with other characters and what needs to be addressed in the next season.

There are moments where they try and show you that there needs to be a next season. The writers have these little moments with a couple where you think there's going to be a turning point, but it ends up being the opposite. Instead, one of the characters chooses the 'safe path' where they were at the beginning of the season, BUT things have changed in their character, meaning if feels a bit wrong/off.

This exact thing happens with Jancy in season 1 and it happens with Byler in season 3.

Exhibit A: Nancy and Jonathan have a moment that implies something between them, satisfyingly rounding out their arc for the season, but still leaving the audience wonder what's about to happen next.

Nancy then chooses 'the safe path' with Steve, which is where she started out in season 1, but her character has changed enough that we see a moment of uncertainty in her:

Exhibit B: Mike and Will have a moment that implies something between them, satisfyingly rounding out their arcs for that season surrounding each other and their friendship, but it still leaves the audience wondering if they'll be okay next season.

Mike then chooses 'the safe path' by getting back together with El. Mind you, when Mike and Will had the first conversation, he thought he was broken up with her. But now she's saying they're back together, which is where they started out in season 3, but Mike's character has changed enough that we see a moment of uncertainty just like with the Stancy scene.

After this, in both their respective next seasons, we have Jancy and Byler talking about the missed opportunities from these two scenes:

Jancy's is: "I waited" "Only like... a month."

Byler's is them talking about how they barely called each other and everything, so they're clearly similar and a very obvious parallel. I mean we even have the Stancy and Mileven arcs where one of them can't say I love you to the other!!

(also while making this my tumblr started to freak the fuck out what is HAPPENING CHAT)

[lucysarah-c]

Mounting Spring Ch. 6

Summary: Paradis has opened its doors to the world, and the Rumbling has not yet occurred. The military board insists, "We need more Ackermans!" to avoid ruining Mikasa's life. Levi agrees. Arranged marriage, explicit consent, Omegaverse. Alpha! Levi x Omega! Y/N. Mentions of underage marriage but it doesn't happen, the reader is over 21. Age gap but they are both adults. (I would say enemys to lover but they don't even know eachother to be enemys lol.)

Author note: I've had this idea for so long… Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure, and I decided to treat myself with it.

From the creator of "Not in season?" I bring to you "Mounting Spring" lmao haha sorry it's just that my first omegaverse was rather a success… so I decided to do another.

Masterlist to the previous parts!

Ao3 link in case you prefer to read there! Chapter dedicated to @marianafairybread because she always wants to be first in the chapter's comment section... and she did it! haha

Reaching out, he grabbed the first items he found, dropping them into his basket with little thought. ‘I should’ve gone to Trost’, he mused.

The small rural town near the Scout facility didn’t offer much in terms of variety. Most locals lived self-sufficiently, farming or raising livestock. Trost, on the other hand, was farther away, and with his limited free time, it wasn’t an option this week. The act of grocery shopping felt like a distant memory, more of an abstract concept than a routine he’d ever mastered.

In the underground, homes were more like squatter's shelters—claimed rather than owned. Kitchens were either non-existent or barely functional, forcing most people to rely on taverns for meals. He’d done the same. If he wanted more than bread and cheese, he’d head out for something warm. He recalled the occasional market day when he’d taken Isabel to pick out “whatever she wanted,” keeping his hood up to avoid attention.

The image flashed briefly—Isabel, beaming, holding up a packet of cookies, seeking his approval. The memory flickered and faded as he reached for some pastries on display at the bakery. They weren’t much, but they were more than plain crackers.

He picked items at random, a mixture of reluctance and uncertainty guiding his choices. This should do, he thought, noticing the baker’s daughter lugging a heavy tray of milk buns to the counter. Her flour-streaked apron and flushed cheeks gave her the look of someone used to hard work.

Levi cleared his throat.

“Oh, are you done, Captain?” the girl asked, dusted her hands off before packing his selections into paper bags. She couldn’t have been older than his newly proclaimed wife.

“Can I get a dozen of those, too?” He pointed at the fresh white bread.

She blinked, surprised but obliging. “Of course.” As she moved to fulfil his request, she added, “I dare say, Captain, it’s surprising to see you here like this. You hardly ever shop in town.”

Levi hummed noncommittally, neither confirming nor denying. He glanced over his shoulder at his squad, who were busy loading supplies onto the cart, too preoccupied to notice him.

“Is someone sick at HQ? The weather’s been wild lately,” the girl continued, clearly eager for conversation. She might have assumed someone had caught the flu, forcing him into town for soft bread to tide them over until rations were delivered.

“No,” Levi replied curtly, “But yeah, it’s been raining a lot.”

“Do you sell dairy?” he asked, shifting topics as he mentally ticked off his list.

The girl shook her head. “No, that’s Gilbert. He’s around—want me to call him?”

Before Levi could answer, she turned to the back window and shouted, “Gilbert!” Her voice was startlingly loud and commanding, a sharp contrast to her polite demeanour moments earlier. She returned with a cheery smile. “He’ll be here in a minute.”

Levi barely had time to process before, a young man with a dishevelled look and a peaky cap leaned into the window, clearly irritated.

“What now, May?” he grumbled.

‘They’re close’, Levi noted. ‘Well, this town’s so damn small, everyone is.’

Gilbert’s attitude flipped the moment he spotted Levi. “Captain,” he greeted, pulling off his cap and nodding respectfully.

“He’s asking about dairy,” May informed him, returning to her chores.

“Oh, is someone sick?” Gilbert asked, shifting his attention to Levi.

“No, just need milk, cheese, maybe butter. I can’t keep coming down here every time I run out. Do you deliver to the countryside?”

“Of course.” Gilbert nodded. “Leave the empties near the stables. I’ll replace them when I see them.”

“That’ll do,” Levi agreed, pulling out his wallet. He suspected other Scouts’ Squad Leaders had lived a little less frugally than he did. ‘Like Eyebrows,’ he thought grimly. But at that time, most of them where gone.

“I’m just surprised you’re shopping here now,” May chimed in, a sly smile on her face. “Is everything alright at HQ?”

“Yes.”

“I thought the Scouts had a deal with the Reeves Company,” Gilbert added, leaning on the window frame.

Levi hesitated. Socializing wasn’t his strength, but ripping the bandage off now seemed the easiest option. “It’s for my wife,” he said plainly.

Silence fell, heavy and awkward. Levi pressed his lips together; it simply didn’t feel real to pronounce those words. Saying them out loud confused him, it just made no sense for him but it was real. Almost like a weird illusion.  The girl’s fake innocence vanished, replaced by a look of irritation and disappointment. Gilbert, on the other hand, stifled a laugh poorly by noticing her face.

“Congratulations,” the girl muttered begrudgingly.

“Congratulations, Captain,” Gilbert said, grinning. “Actually, my father mentioned something about it, but I didn’t believe him.”

“Thanks,” Levi replied curtly, eager to leave.

“Where’s she staying? Maybe she’d like to join us, the girls and I, for tea,” May asked, her tone a forced blend of sweetness and curiosity.

‘For fucks sake, just drop it,’ Levi decided to ignore it as the young man set four glass bottles of milk and some extras. Levi paid, though May tried to refuse. “It’s on the house, Captain,” she insisted.

“Come on, I grabbed a lot,” he countered.

“And my mother would be thrilled knowing Humanity’s Strongest Soldier’s wife is eating her recipes,” she insisted.

Reluctantly, Levi accepted, gathering the bags with practiced efficiency. She resumed her prying. “Let us know where she’s staying! We’ll invite her out!”

“She’s at HQ for now.”

May’s surprise was evident. “I didn’t know civilians could live at HQ.”

“Let them be,” Gilbert teased, nudging her arm. “Newlyweds can’t stand being apart, especially this time of year.” His comment made her giggle and blush.

—

“I paid for those groceries with my dignity,”

“I mean… they’re kind of right; don’t you think? What’s a civilian doing at military headquarters?” The brunette nudged the captain, attempting to keep the conversation alive. “You can’t just keep her locked up in your quarters forever, you know.”

Levi pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “I know. But where the hell am I supposed to put her? In the stables?”

Hange’s enthusiasm didn’t waver, despite Levi’s clear frustration. “Oh, we could go house-hunting! I’ve always wanted to do that!” They grinned, as if this were an adventure. “Owning a house is one of my wildest dreams! Right up there with seeing the outside world. I can’t believe I got to see the ocean before I could even afford a house—but hey, that’s the economy for you.” Hange chuckled, undeterred.

“I’ll have to have a word with that asshole Zackly. I can’t keep her living off charity,” Levi muttered. His long list of responsibilities felt like tackling a Hydra—cut off one head, and two more grew in its place.

“So?... Did she like them? Or is she still sticking to that hunger strike?” Hange leaned back; their cheeks already flushed from the alcohol. They’d shifted from standing close to the captain to sprawling in their own chair, drink in hand.

“There was never a hunger strike. She just hates our food,” Levi replied dryly. “Not that I blame her. But she’d better start getting used to it. I’m not hiring her a private chef, and she can’t live off cookies and cheese forever.”

The memory of earlier that day surfaced unbidden.

“You’re back!” she said, startled, stepping out of the room quickly to meet him.

“I brought you something to eat.” Levi set the bags down on the table. Unlike her usual cautious approach with the trays he brought, she dove right into inspecting the bags, curiosity lighting up her face.

She peeked into each bag, her expression softening with genuine delight.

Levi caught himself staring—maybe for the first time since they met, he noticed something resembling happiness on her face.

“Oh!” she squealed, pulling out the buns and bringing one to her nose. She inhaled deeply, savouring the sweet scent before tearing a piece off and taking a generous bite.

“Try not to fill up before dinner,” he warned gruffly. He remembered the previous night’s “dinner,” which had mostly involved her picking through the stew like it was poison.

But her eyes, bright and grateful, met his. She made an effort to swallow quickly, breaking the eye contact momentarily, then said softly, “Thank you.”

“Oww. Look at you, all doting. Your little alpha brain was probably glowing,” Hange teased with a wide grin.

Levi frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Come on, Levi. Alphas instinctively provide for their mates. Bringing her food is, like, prime courting behaviour—”

“Spare me the biology lesson,” Levi cut them off sharply. “I’ve had enough of your nonsense for one day.”

He reached for his glass, hoping it would hide the faint heat creeping up his neck. He’d dreamed of her the previous night. Not just of her, but of marking her—claiming her in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to think about while awake.

“At least her scent’s calming down,” he muttered, more to himself than to Hange. “Maybe now I can actually think straight.”

The last remaining veteran hummed faintly, their approval distant as they leaned back in their swinging chair, eyes closed. Sleep-deprivation from endless responsibilities and the alcohol in their system created a perfect cocktail for them to drift into dreamland almost instantly.

Levi, however, let his head hang over the back of his seat, eyes shut. He sighed heavily. “The one thing I’m grateful for... is that those two are Betas. If they weren’t, I’d never hear the end of it.”

He was referring to the fact that the small-town folk—most of whom were Betas—couldn’t recognize or differentiate between the scent of a bonded or unbonded Alpha.

—

“Dear Nana,

How is everyone? How is Clauws doing?”

She carefully penned the letter, seated at a desk that wasn’t hers. The pen’s tip dipped into ink once more before gliding across the paper. Though countless questions buzzed in her mind, very few could actually be written down. Her grandmother had always been strict, but when everything fell apart, she was the first to offer support—a comforting presence her own mother hadn’t provided. Her mother, too preoccupied tending to the returned “head of the house,” had barely noticed her struggles.

“I’m sorry I ruined your dress, Nana,”

She paused, remembering the day her grandmother had handed her the cherished wedding gown. It was simpler in design, a reflection of the fashion back then. “A piece of me will be with you that day,” her grandmother had said.

The letter rambled in places, yet felt hollow in others. “Things are improving slowly. My belongings arrived two days ago, which was a clear improvement,” she wrote.

She smiled at the memory. How ridiculously happy she’d been to finally take a proper shower using her own soaps, hair products, skincare, and body lotions. At last, she could wear a dress that was hers.

Levi’s reaction to the mountain of boxes had been understated—a brief glance, a slight narrowing of his eyes—but he’d said nothing. His indifference almost tempted her to write: “Nana, is it normal for a husband to not be interested in you?” But she stopped herself.

Her initial theory had been that her appearance was to blame. The limited wardrobe and lack of self-care products had left her feeling dull. But after her belongings arrived, she took her time in the shower that night, ensuring every inch of her smelled pleasant.

—

Levi returned to his chambers after a long day, utterly drained. He kicked off his boots, but still bent down to align them perfectly by the wall. Scratching the back of his head, his hand moved instinctively to push the bathroom door open—only to stop short when he noticed the light was on.

Her startled squeak from inside made him freeze. The door slammed shut in his face.

“Sorry,” he muttered, stepping back to avoid getting hit. He’d completely forgotten she was there. Despite the subtle changes around his chambers—the rearranged furniture, the extra storage for her belongings—it hadn’t sunk in.

Levi waited a few moments, exhaustion weighing on him. Each blink grew slower, heavier. Finally, he sighed. “Is this going to take long? I need the bathroom,” he asked, voice calm but firm.

“No.”

He frowned, rolling his eyes as if following an invisible clock. “Is that a ‘No, I’m done,’ or a ‘No, I need more time’?”

“What does that even mean?” she called back, her muffled voice sounding farther away than it actually was.

Levi shifted his weight impatiently, hands on his hips. “It means your ‘just a minute’ is turning into an eternity.”

He opened the door, the abrupt motion startled Hange, who was working at the desk nearby. Levi muttered irritably under his breath, brushing past them. “Feel free to make yourself at home,” Hange quipped sarcastically, as if they didn’t burst into Levi’s chambers uninvited all the time.

“I need to use your bathroom,” Levi snapped. But after a quick glance inside, he wrinkled his nose, muttered, “Never mind, the cadet’s public ones are cleaner,” and left.

—

When he returned to his chambers later, exhaustion pulling at every step, she was seated there. Her freshly washed hair glowed with a soft sheen, and the dress she wore seemed to accentuate her figure in all the right ways. The change in her mood was palpable—she looked lighter, almost happy.

“You’re back earlier,” she said softly, breaking the silence. Perhaps the isolation was getting to her. She had no one to talk to but herself, and even her inner monologues were starting to feel unhinged.

“Yeah.” Levi didn’t elaborate, setting down a stack of papers he needed to finish. He poured himself a cup of tea and sat at his desk, ready to get to work.

But her gaze was intense, her attention unwavering. He raised his eyes slowly from the papers, catching her shy smile. She looked... almost embarrassed.

“Yes?” he asked, his voice betraying no emotion.

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes bright with unspoken thoughts. Levi frowned inwardly. ‘She wants something’. Too tired for subtle games, he asked bluntly, “What do you need?”

“Oh, um… how was your day?” she asked, the long pause making her question feel like an afterthought.

“Busy.” He blinked slowly, waiting for her to get to the point. “What do you need?”

For Levi, this was attentiveness—cutting to the chase and solving her problems directly. But to her, it felt cold. Distant.

Pressing her lips together, she tried to maintain her optimism. “Don’t you notice something different?” she asked, her voice carrying the same tentative excitement as a child presenting a crayon drawing, they’ve poured their heart into.

Levi barely looked up from his work. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him after nonstop duties. “Your stuff arrived.”

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Well, yes. You brought it.” She leaned forward slightly. “Something else.”

Levi, disinterested, returned to his papers. “My bathroom is crammed with packages of things that’ll be impossible to keep tidy. That it?”

Her smile faltered, the enthusiasm in her eyes dimming. “No,” she muttered.

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the scratch of his pen on paper. Her drop in mood didn’t register with him immediately; his focus remained fixed on his work.

“Then I don’t know. I give up,” Levi finally said, his tone casual as though indulging in a child’s guessing game. “Communication is key, isn’t it?” He kept the conversation going, albeit with his usual bluntness. “I’ll be direct. I leave this place around six in the morning and come back around nine at night. When I get here, I just want to use the bathroom without waiting an hour. The rest of the day, it’s all yours.”

In his mind, he was simply setting boundaries—clarity prevented misunderstandings. “Settled accounts keep old friends,” as the saying went. He didn’t want resentment to build and cause an issue later.

“Sure,” she replied, her voice lacking the earlier spark.

Minutes passed in silence. Only then did Levi notice the shift in her mood. He tapped his pen against the desk, trying to shake off the sense of something being off. Straightening in his chair, he forced himself into a form of socialization that didn’t come naturally.

“How... was your day?” he asked, his tone awkward but sincere.

She gave him a faint, understanding smile. “It was good.”

“Good to hear,” he said, returning to his papers.

She replayed the events of the previous night in her mind, conflicted.

‘He called off my wedding and chose me with such determination... didn’t back out of the new arrangement when I lost my heat.’

She pieced together the events as though unraveling a mystery, searching for a missing clue.

‘He not only didn’t want to claim me… he’s simply not interested in me.’

A deep sigh escaped her as she ran a hand over her face. The confinement of the past few days had left her dizzy and drained.

‘Am I doing something wrong? Failing as a wife somehow?’

The thought of asking, ‘Captain, have we met before?’ lingered on the edge of her mind. How could a man so adamant about marrying her—a man who used his newfound authority after the uprising to demand her as his wife—not even know her?

‘We must have met before,’ she rationalized. ‘Perhaps at a ball? Maybe he knows my father?’

Yet, even as her thoughts spun, she arrived at a reluctant conclusion:

‘I don’t desire him to claim me, but at least he could be interested in me.’

If she could wish for one wedding gift, it would be for him to talk to her—about anything. She wanted to know if this marriage was punishment for her family, a humiliation disguised as duty, or if he was simply as severe and unyielding as he appeared.

She stood a few steps behind him, clutching the letter she had written earlier. Her eyes lingered on the curve of his bent head as he worked. When should she ask? Would it annoy him? What if he refused?

‘What if he doesn’t want me to contact my family anymore? Should I lie and say it’s for a friend?’

“Ehm,” she began hesitantly, catching his attention.

Levi glanced at her, waiting.

“I was wondering if you could send a letter for me?”

She braced for his reaction, expecting irritation or even outright anger. But Levi merely extended his hand.

“Sure,” he said simply.

Her initial shock passed quickly, and she moved closer, handing him the envelope. “Is... this alright?” she asked cautiously, testing the waters.

“Did you write the address correctly?”

“I think so.”

“Then I don’t see why not.”

They shared the same language, but their meanings never aligned. She questioned the morality of staying in contact with her past, while his thoughts drifted to streets and doorways, turning her words into something as practical as addresses.

Levi flipped the envelope over, his sharp eyes catching the empty space where the sender’s details should have been. Picking up his pen, he filled in the information himself, then reached for one of the stamps he used for his own correspondence. After affixing it to the envelope, he placed it atop the pile of outgoing letters.

“Done. With that stamp, it’ll be sent as a high priority.”

She wondered if this was some sort of test. “Alright, thank you,” she replied hesitantly, retreating slowly back to the room. Her cautious movement caught his attention.

‘Try talking to her, be sociable,’ Hange had urged him during lunch. ‘At least try to befriend her. You’re the only person she knows.’

The memory of that conversation made Levi press his lips together and exhale softly, though not loud enough to draw attention. His eyes scanned his desk as if it might somehow offer the social skills he so clearly lacked.

“You don’t have to leave. We can share the room.”

Those words stopped her in her tracks. After countless nights of waiting for his return and his insistence that he had too much work to spare time for her, she had assumed he didn’t want her there. Slowly, she walked back to the desk, hesitating before taking one of the armchairs in front of him.

Her mind was a battlefield of questions, but the voices of those who once told her that the success of a marriage depended on a woman’s quietness forced her to remain silent.

Levi, on the other hand, wished she would ramble about anything—or everything. ‘I’m not in a position to get picky’, he thought. It wasn’t that he particularly enjoyed talkative people— ‘no one likes a damn yapper’, he mused with a wry press of his lips—but he wished she didn’t seem so…scared.

Respect and fear had followed him like shadows since his underground days, and he had never found silence uncomfortable. But something about the absence of connection in their shared space unsettled him. This was his sanctuary: the room where veterans had snuck in to celebrate his birthday against his will; the room where he, Mike, and Hange had gotten high because the mess in their rooms drove him mad; the place Erwin would stumble into drunk to rant about aging before forgetting the entire conversation the next morning.

Now, she slept in his bed—a bed he rarely used unless he got any unexpected visit for a night or two. She had gone through his drawers, where condoms, hardly touched lube, and those ridiculous chocolates Hange had once gifted him as a joke lay tucked away. She had invaded his space, his place, and he didn’t even know if she had some embarrassing middle name.

“You came back earlier today,” she muttered, breaking the silence.

He blinked. Had he? Maybe he had been trying to finish work earlier, hoping to get back before she fell asleep. “Did you forget your keys?” she asked.

Her question made him freeze, his sharp eyes narrowing. She instantly regretted asking.

‘Someone tried to break in’, Levi’s mind leaped to the worst conclusion.

“What happened?” he asked, his tone calm but commanding.

“Nothing. It was a quiet day,” she lied, her eyes darting away like a guilty dog avoiding its owner.

“Don’t lie to me,” Levi said firmly, though without aggression.

“Nothing. The front door’s knob was pushed down and tugged a couple of times, but that was it. The door was locked anyway,” she admitted, her voice hesitant, “I thought maybe you’d forgotten your keys.”

She tried to shrug it off, though her footing felt shaky. “It really was nothing,” she added quickly, her excuses flimsy and arriving too fast to be convincing. “It’s not that deep.”

‘I want to go out… I need to leave this place, or I’ll go nuts,’ she thought, the words she withheld tightening around her like chains. It felt as though she’d just added three more locks to the door with every word she spoke.

“I didn’t mean to hide it from you,” she murmured, her voice softening.

‘Well… maybe a little,’ she admitted silently, guilt prickling at the edges of her thoughts.

Levi sighed heavily, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. His patience was stretched, but his tone was steady.

“Stop it. I’m not angry at you.”

“Well…you look like it,” she muttered, barely audible.

Levi caught her words. “That’s just the face I was born with,” he deadpanned, standing to prepare tea. “If I were actually mad, you’d know.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though she still seemed wary. When he asked, “How much milk?” she snapped out of her thoughts.

“Oh, half and half, please,” she replied.

He carried on, adding two sugar cubes and placing her cup next to her before returning to his seat. One leg over the other.

“Thanks,” she murmured into her tea, both hands clasped around the warm cup.

As the room fell silent again, Levi’s gaze landed on a stray sketch she’d left on his desk—a portrait of a cat. He held it up. “You’re an artist, huh?” “You’re an artist, huh?” he asked suddenly.

“Uh?” She blinked, then realized what he meant. “Oh. I won’t leave them around again. Sorry.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, a trace of exasperation in his tone. “You’re not bad at it.”

A soft smile touched her lips. “Thanks, but I’m just an amateur. A real artist is someone professional. My technique is weak.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re better than anyone I know,” He scanned the sketches scattered across the desk. “Who told you that? Some shitty teacher?”

She hesitated. “My father.”

Levi pressed his lips together. “Sounds like a real ray of sunshine.”

She chuckled at his dry tone. “He just didn’t want me to think I could make a living out of it.”

“Ah, a natural motivator,” Levi deadpanned. “Bet he works in suicide prevention.”

She laughed, the sound light and genuine. ‘First joke she’s found funny,’ Levi thought.

She leaned forward slightly, a grin on her face. “Do you know my father, sir?”

“Not a clue,” he replied, sipping his tea. “Don’t call me ‘sir,’ by the way. I told you that.”

Her expression turned sheepish. “Sorry… force of habit.” Her smile faltered. Then why…why did you choose me? The question hovered unspoken between them.

Before she could gather the courage to ask, Levi changed the subject, holding up the cat sketch again. “You like this cat?”

Her face brightened instantly. “Yes! That’s my baby, Clauws!”

Levi raised an eyebrow but kept his thoughts to himself. ‘What kind of shitty name is that?’

She explained, “I got him as a Christmas present. He had claws, and Santa Claus brought him to me, so…Clauws.”

“Ah. I see.”

She laughed, catching his expression. “Give me a break—I was ten!”

“Fair enough.”

“Are you a cat person or a dog person?” she asked, clearly trying to keep the light mood alive.

“Neither,” he replied bluntly.

Her smile faded.

“I never owned pets. They shed everywhere. Too messy.”

Her enthusiasm dimmed, but she tried to hide it. “I guess…”

—

“I’m telling you, he’s been taking trays to his chambers!” Sasha’s finger hit the mess hall’s table as she spoke. “He has someone there!”

“How do you know he’s taking an extra tray for someone else and not just for him and Commander Hange to have dinner together?” Connie asked, trying to find logic in her declarations.

“Because there’s been an extra tray for every meal!”

“You count trays?” Jean grimaced in shock. “You’ve got a serious problem with food.”

“Whatever! He has someone there!”

“Ugh, let’s put an end to this,” Armin said, appearing out of nowhere to place his tray on the table. He climbed onto the bench attached to the surface, the rest of the group looking at him in confusion. With a loud, fake sigh, Armin pulled out a small pile of letters and held them up for everyone to see. The group gasped.

“He has a girl named Y/N over. How do I know? Correspondence,” Armin declared.

“Armin, you’re a genius!” Sasha exclaimed, but Jean stared at him in pale horror.

“Have Eren’s suicidal tendencies rubbed off on you?! Captain Levi will beat you senseless if he finds out you’ve touched his letters!”

“Relax. I’m going to put them back before he finds out,” Armin said calmly. “I read in a detective novel that you can open letters with steam and reseal them. Maybe we’ll figure out what she’s doing here.”

Before anyone could respond, another voice broke in. “Who? The omega Captain Levi has in his office?”

As Floch appeared and sat down next to them—uninvited and unwelcome—their lighthearted curiosity turned uneasy.

“How do you know that?” Connie was the first to ask.

“Well, Mr. Wannabe Detective here would’ve known if he were an alpha,” Floch sneered, clearly enjoying his superiority on calling Armin’s beta nature out. Was there a connection between Floch clear unbiased wish that they would have chosen Commander Erwin, a well-known alpha, over Armin? Perhaps.

Armin stayed silent, his self-esteem taking a blow, but Jean, the only alpha in their group, though far from dominant, jumped to the challenge.

“Shut up! Even if she was one, how would you know?” Jean demanded.

“Oh, I know.” Floch smirked. “I was delivering reports to Commander Hange, and her scent hit me under the door.”

Floch had recently come out of a rut, a telltale sign of young alphas developing.

“I have to say, before I realized it, I was trying to open the door. But it was locked,” he added, sounding almost offended. “Such a pity.”

The friendly atmosphere disappeared completely, and everyone shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

“That’s creepy as hell, dude,” Sasha said, disgusted.

Floch shrugged. “Everyone knows omegas drive alphas wild. Who the hell brings one here? That’s on them.”

Suddenly, Armin stood, clutching the letters tightly. “Maybe I should put these back,” he muttered. The idea of digging into Levi’s private life no longer felt like innocent gossip—it felt deeply wrong.

—

Levi stared at the two envelopes in his hands, clearly not work-related and not addressed to him. He quickly noticed one bore the name of the letter he’d sent earlier. But something didn’t add up. The last names didn’t match. “Her father, maybe,” he thought as he read, “Dietrich.”

He shrugged it off. “Maybe they’re a tight-knit family,” he guessed. He made a mental note to drop the letters off at his chambers before heading to his meeting. “Maybe it’ll cheer her up.”

But when she saw the letters, she didn’t look cheerful at all. She tried to mask her unease with a forced laugh. “Oh, haha, I just have a headache,” she lied, waving it off.

“Do you want some painkillers?” Levi asked, already thinking about making a quick trip to the infirmary. ‘Maybe it’s an omega thing after a heat?’ He wasn’t well-versed in omega biology, but he wanted to be a considerate partner.

“No, no, thank you! Have a good time at the meeting,” she said quickly, ushering him out.

Alone at last, her hands trembled as she clutched the letters, sinking into the couch. Her heart raced.

‘He wrote to me,’ she thought, her cheeks flushing. But the realization quickly turned sour.

“He wrote to me,” she muttered, dread sinking in.

One part of her wanted to read it, to giggle and cherish the thought that she was still the deepest desire of a man who wouldn’t give up without a fight. But her rational side screamed, “Are you out of your mind? Imagine what he’d do if he found out.”

Duty or love. Desire or safety.

‘Screw it,’ she thought, her hands trembling as she struggled to open the seal without tearing the paper.

A gilded reflect caught her attention from the corner of her yes. Her grandmother’s letter, sitting on the coffee table next to the wedding ring she’d taken off earlier.

The ring was uncomfortable. It didn’t fit her well. But the sight of it next to her grandmother’s letter felt like a moral reminder. Her grandmother had written back so quickly to offer support, her words a lifeline in this overwhelming new life.

The excitement drained away, leaving only shame and pain. “You know what the right decision is,” her conscience scolded.

Before regret could take hold, she tore Dietrich’s letter to pieces and flushed it down the toilet. Tears streamed down her face. “It’s the right decision,” she repeated, thinking of her younger siblings—particularly her two little sisters.

It was late into the night. The field lay eerily still, save for the occasional shadow of soldiers patrolling under curfew. Their footsteps were sparse and distant, a quiet reminder of the night’s vigilance.

She sat on the wide threshold of the office’s main window, her head leaning heavily against the glass. The chill seeped through, a stark contrast to the warmth of her skin, and she welcomed it. Her lifeless gaze stretched out into the abyss beyond, where darkness swallowed everything in sight.

The tears hadn’t dried yet. She blinked slowly, afraid they might return if she lingered too long on her thoughts. The air felt thick, oppressive, as if it carried the weight of her despair. The walls seemed to close in with each passing second, shrinking her world into something suffocatingly small.

‘I hate it here,’ she thought bitterly, the words ringing like a quiet scream in her mind.

Levi returned to his quarters, the weight of another gruelling meeting pressing on his shoulders. The moment he stepped inside, he noticed her sitting by the window, her figure barely illuminated by the dim moonlight. Her head rested against the glass; her shoulders slumped. Something about the way she sat—so still, so lost—struck him.

He shut the door quietly, hanging his cloak by the hook before stepping further into the room. “You’ve been sitting there all night?” he asked, his tone neutral but laced with a hint of concern.

She didn’t turn to look at him, her voice soft and hollow only hummed. “What is that even supposed to mean?” Levi asked back.

She didn’t turn to look at him. “I’m fine.” The words were brittle, almost a whisper.

He crossed the room, setting something down on the desk before leaning against it. “You don’t look fine.”

She seemed unresponsive, as if life were something that passed her by, not something she was meant to live. Levi’s gaze lingered on her, his breathing slow and deliberate as he wrestled with the unfamiliar territory of trying to be understanding. ‘What is it now? The food? The place?’

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low but firm. The sound of her name seemed to pull her out of the fog she was in. “I told you—I’m not a mind reader. If something’s wrong, just tell me, so I can fix it.”

Something shifted in her expression, her dull gaze sparking with an edge of frustration. “What’s wrong?” she echoed, her voice breaking slightly. “I’m far away from home, from everyone I know. Stuck here, in this tiny little room.”

‘Oh… so that’s it,’ he thought, nodding softly with an air of exhaustion. “This is temporary,” he replied, his tone even. “I’ll find you a place—somewhere better. Somewhere you don’t have to be here… with me—”

Before he could finish, she raised her hands to her face, muffling a scream before collapsing into sobs. Levi froze, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. That reaction wasn’t what he’d expected.

“What the hell did I say now?” he muttered under his breath, bewildered, watching her unravel before him.

She turned to face him, her eyes red-rimmed but sharp.  “What do you want from me?!”

“I’ve the same damn question,”

“Why are you doing this?”

He frowned, taken aback. “Doing what?”

“This.” She gestured vaguely around the room, her tone sharp and weary all at once. “Why am I here? Is this some sort of punishment? Did you think my family would suffer more by taking me?”

Levi’s brows knit together. “Punish your family? What are you talking about?”

“I’m not going to excuse anything,” she continued, her voice rising as if she hadn’t heard him. “I’m not going to excuse what my father did, alright? He did business with the old Military Police. Sure. But we weren’t some noble family rubbing elbows with the royal court. We’re not that influential.” Her words came faster now, anger and frustration spilling out unchecked.

Levi opened his mouth to respond, but she didn’t stop.

“At first, I thought you knew my father somehow, or maybe you hated my kind, and this was some sort of twisted fantasy,” she began, her voice trembling but firm. “Then I wondered if you just wanted an Omega wife to fit neatly into your new position in the government. But now? I don’t know anymore! I don’t understand what you want from me!”

Her hands clenched into tight fists on her lap, her knuckles whitening with the pressure.

“I don’t understand!” she repeated, her tone rising with the weight of her frustration. “You don’t even want me here—you’re trying to send me away, somewhere I won’t be a burden to you. You had plenty of single Omegas lined up for marriage, but instead, you called off my wedding, dragged me all the way here… just to cast me aside. What do you want from me?!”

Her voice broke as the raw emotion spilled over. “Is it fun for you? To ruin my life? To make me miserable? Is that all this is to you—some cruel game?”

She looked away, her gaze dropping to the floor. “And now my grandmother writes to tell me that my cat won’t eat. He’s lying in my old room, waiting for me. He’s going to die because of all this.”

Levi straightened slightly. “Your cat?”

“Yes, my cat!” she snapped, her eyes blazing. She inhaled sharply, trying to steady herself, but her tears betrayed her. “I was supposed to marry someone else,” she said bitterly, her words slicing through the air. “I had a life planned out. I was going to live close to the capital with my friends, with my cat, with the man I’d been preparing my whole life to marry. And then you…” Her voice wavered as she fixed him with a glare. “You called off my wedding.”

Levi froze, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What?” he said, his voice low and rough. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her hand raising as if to physically block his words. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want your excuses or justifications. Just leave me alone, okay?”

He stood there, his hands at his sides, watching her crumble in front of him. Her words hit him harder than he cared to admit. He hadn’t known she was engaged—or that her life had been so carefully planned before all this. He hadn’t realized how much she’d lost in the process of being pushed into his world.

But she wasn’t letting him speak.

“I just want to go home,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Please… just leave me alone.”

Levi clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists. He wanted to say something—anything—

—

“You GAVE me a girl who was engaged to someone else?!” Levi’s voice cut through the room like a blade.

“You didn’t claim the damn Omega?!” Zackly shot back, his tone equally sharp.

The two cadets stationed at the far wall exchanged nervous glances, their bodies stiff and pressed flat against the plaster as if trying to disappear. They dared not breathe too loudly, their eyes darting from one side of the office to the other as the shouting escalated.

“Who the hell cares about that?!” Levi snapped, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “The girl’s a blink away from throwing herself off a balcony! And the only reason she hasn’t is because I live on the first floor. She’s smart enough to know she’d survive the fall and just end up crippled!”

“You come into my office to shout at me,” Zackly growled, slamming his fist on the desk, “demanding a house, calling me a liar—and you haven’t even claimed the girl?!” His voice rose with incredulity. “You wanted her. No second thoughts. We gave her to you! What the hell did you expect us to do?”

“I don’t know,” Levi retorted, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Maybe you could’ve told me she was already promised to someone else!”

“You got what you asked for,” Zackly shot back with a scoff, leaning back in his chair. “You had one damn job, and you couldn’t even do that. So go back, claim the girl, and then we can talk about anything else.”

Levi stood frozen, disbelief washing over him. His steel-gray eyes locked on Zackly as if trying to process how a man could be so absurdly indifferent. “Maybe you’re the type to enjoy abusing girls half your age, but that’s not me. She doesn’t just hate me—she despises me.”

Zackly let out a derisive laugh. “Oh, your wife hates you? Boo-hoo, Captain. Welcome to marriage.” His sarcasm made one of the cadets stifle a chuckle, which they instantly regretted when Levi’s sharp gaze flicked toward them.

“We’ve got a coastal expansion to deal with, a train system to build, and a Marley invasion to prepare for,” Zackly continued, waving dismissively. “Neither of us has time to waste on this nonsense.”

Levi’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. He’d never seen eye to eye with Zackly, and now, his patience was at its breaking point. “I need a damn house,” he ground out. “I can’t keep her at headquarters.”

The tension in the room was broken by one of the cadets, who sneered, “A house? Alone, for an unclaimed Omega? We’re not funding a brothel. Half the Alphas inside the Walls would be lining up outside her door.”

Levi’s world went red. His hand shot out, grabbing the cadet by the collar and dragging him close, his voice a low growl. “You say something like that again, and I’ll make sure you’re the one they’re lining up for.” He yanked the cadet lower, forcing him to meet his piercing glare.

The cadet’s bravado shattered instantly. “I’m sorry, sir—I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t care what you meant,” Levi hissed, his tone deadly calm. “You like to act cocky, but the moment you’re in my hands, you’re shaking like a little bitch.” He held him there a moment longer before shoving him back against the wall. “Don’t test me again.”

The cadet nodded furiously. “It won’t happen again, Captain. I’m sorry.”

“Tch.” Levi turned away, muttering under his breath. “This couldn’t get worse.”

—

“So… no house hunting today?” Hange quipped as they exited the main building, each fresh from their respective meetings. Their steps initially fell in sync, heading toward the waiting cart, but Levi abruptly veered off down the street.

“Were you going?” he shot back, his tone flat yet tinged with subtle sarcasm.

Hange stopped, blinking at his retreating figure before jogging slightly to catch up. their eyes dropped to the letter he held, his gaze fixed on the address written there.

“I’ve got something to pick up,” Levi said curtly, not breaking stride.

—

“Hey. Come on, wake up.”

Levi’s voice was quiet but insistent as he gently rocked her shoulder. She was sprawled on the bed, deeply asleep, the pitch-black room silent except for his voice. He’d been gone the entire day, leaving at five in the morning, and now it was three a.m. the following day. Despite his best efforts, she hadn’t even stirred when he came back.

“Wake up,” he urged again, shaking her lightly. “I’ve got something for you.”

A muffled groan escaped her lips as she shifted uneasily, her face scrunching in sleepy confusion. “What?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “You’re back?”

“Yeah, now come on.” He tugged lightly at her arm, his grip firm but not rough. “Get up.”

Grumbling incoherently, she sat up, her movements sluggish as she tried to process being forced awake. Levi didn’t wait for her to fully come to her senses. He turned on the light in the adjoining office, casting a blinding glow that made her squint and groan louder.

“What’s this?” she muttered, shielding her face and rubbing her eyes.

Levi didn’t answer at first. Instead, he walked to the center of the room, a box resting on the floor. “You’ll have to be responsible,” he said plainly, crouching to open it. “I don’t have the time to take care of it or clean up after it. That’s my condition.”

Her grogginess evaporated the second she processed his words. Her eyes widened, and her breath caught as she saw him lift the box’s lid.

“Oh my god. Oh my god—oh my god!” she exclaimed, her voice breaking as tears spilled down her cheeks. Dropping to her knees, she reached out as her cat—frail, disheveled, and scared—darted toward her arms.

The small animal let out a hoarse, frantic meow, burying its head into her neck as she hugged it tightly, crying openly.

“It’s okay,” she sobbed, rocking the trembling creature as if to soothe both of them at once. “Mommy’s got you. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Levi stood in silence, watching the scene unfold. His lips pressed into a thin line as he observed the cat clinging to her like it was afraid to let go, its pitiful meows muffled against her shoulder. The animal looked half-dead—though perhaps it had been revived by her sheer will the moment it reunited with her.

Before he could say a word, she rose to her feet, still clutching the cat, and threw her free arm around him in a fierce hug. The startled animal was caught between them, meowing in protest, but she didn’t seem to care.

“Thank you,” she cried, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you so much!”

“You’ve got to be responsible—” Levi started, but his words cut off as she planted a quick, impulsive kiss on his cheek.

He froze, his usual stoic composure crumbling for a split second as his brain scrambled to process the gesture. He didn’t know whether to step back, reciprocate, or say something, so he settled on standing still, his arms awkwardly hovering at his sides.

‘Well,’ he thought dryly, watching her coo at the cat with unrestrained joy, ‘this’ll make it ten times easier to tell her she’s stuck here until further notice.’

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out.

Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[earthlybeam]

Hello! can I please request elves not knowing our language well enough like innuendos or slang and getting the reader flustered by saying something double meaning ..😏😏😏 (like sleeping together spicy or not)

Apologies for the delay—I’ve been working on this in bits and pieces. I wasn’t sure which character you had in mind, so I went ahead and worked on my main three I write for. If you’d like me to focus on a different character, feel free to leave a comment or request it directly. Hope you enjoy!

↓

↓

↓

Thranduil, Elrond, Gil-galad Version below.

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵 (two versions below)

(First one)

The air around you is cool, a refreshing contrast to the lingering heat of the day. You stand near the tranquil waters of the forest stream, looking out at the setting sun filtering through the trees. The serenity of Mirkwood feels almost overwhelming, the world slowed down to the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional bird call. You feel yourself relaxing—until a familiar presence at your back reminds you that this stillness is about to be broken. You hear the soft crunch of leaves beneath boots before Thranduil’s voice reaches you, smooth and unhurried. “You look worn, my guest,” he remarks, his tone soft yet authoritative, like he’s seen the fatigue in your posture from a distance. You turn to face him, the King of Mirkwood, his figure standing tall and imposing, yet there’s something unexpectedly gentle in the way he regards you. “I could make you feel so good with just a little pressure, you know,” he says, his voice low and oddly intimate, a slight, lingering pause in the air between his words. His fingers graze the bare skin of your shoulder, the touch so light it’s almost like a whisper of contact. But that small touch carries more weight than it should. You swallow, caught off guard by the sensation, a shiver running through you at the lightness of his caress. His fingers press just enough to leave a warmth lingering, a promise that extends far beyond the simplicity of his words.

“Trust me enough to let me,” he adds, and it’s almost a challenge, though not in the way you’d expect. There’s a quiet command in the suggestion, the kind of confidence that comes from a ruler who knows the power of his own allure. His words hang in the air, curling into your thoughts like a slow, intoxicating pull. You open your mouth to respond, but something in his gaze stops you. His eyes—always calculating, always observing—lock with yours, and suddenly, everything feels far more personal, far more intimate than it should be. Your heart beats faster, a fluttering in your chest that you don’t quite understand. It’s not just the offer of a bath, not really. It’s the way his fingers linger, almost imperceptibly, against your skin, as though waiting for you to make the next move, to decide what happens next. Your thoughts race, clouded by an undercurrent of something you don’t know how to define. Did he mean it the way you think he did?

Your cheeks flush, a crimson warmth spreading across your face. You try to compose yourself, to steady your breathing, but the heat of his touch refuses to fade. You find yourself unable to meet his gaze, unsure whether you should speak or remain silent. You didn’t expect this kind of attention, not from someone so regal, so commanding. And certainly not from someone who feels like an enigma wrapped in a thousand years of experience. Thranduil watches you closely, an unreadable expression passing over his features. He doesn’t comment on your flustered silence but offers you a small, almost knowing smile, his gaze never leaving yours. Without saying another word, he turns and begins walking toward the hidden pathway leading deeper into the trees.

“Come,” he says softly, his voice still smooth but with a certain undertone of reassurance, as if he is guiding you rather than commanding you. You hesitate for just a moment, unsure of whether to follow, but you find your feet moving behind him almost instinctively. There’s a curiosity gnawing at you, a mix of confusion and anticipation, as you trail after him through the thickening forest. The path grows quieter the further you venture, the sound of the forest dampened by the thick canopy above. You walk in silence, the tension from before lingering in the air, until you come to a secluded stone chamber, the entrance concealed by thick vines and foliage. Thranduil steps aside to allow you to pass, his gesture graceful, yet his eyes are still focused on you—unwavering, assessing.

The room before you is bathed in a soft glow, the flickering light from several candles casting long shadows against the stone walls. In the center of the room, a large pool of water waits, steam rising from its surface. The scent of lavender and something musky fills the air, calming and inviting, a sharp contrast to the electric tension that still crackles between you. It’s only then that you realize exactly what he meant by his earlier words. The bath. The pressure. It’s not just a physical offering—it’s something more intimate, more vulnerable. Your eyes widen in realization as you glance back at him. He’s still watching you, waiting for you to come to terms with the situation. The flush on your cheeks deepens as the realization sinks in.

Thranduil’s gaze softens for a moment, though his confidence never wavers. “I find that a long day’s journey is best followed by a moment of true relaxation.” He speaks with such ease, as if this was a perfectly normal offer, but you can’t shake the underlying tension between the two of you. You stand there for a moment, at the threshold of the bath chamber, a part of you wanting to turn and walk away, to ignore the way his presence fills the room and how you suddenly feel as if you’re being held in a delicate balance. But you don’t. You step forward, drawn by a force you can’t explain, still unsure of what exactly you’ve stepped into. Thranduil’s voice breaks through your thoughts, warm and deep as ever. “Don’t worry. I will make sure the waters are to your liking.” His hands, smooth and practiced, reach for the edge of the stone basin, and you feel his gaze on you like a tangible thing, though his tone remains gentle, almost reassuring. You realize in that moment that whatever you had imagined this encounter would be, it’s nothing like what you’ve expected. It’s far more intimate, more intimate than you were prepared for, but something tells you, as his eyes flicker to you once more, that this moment—whatever it is—might be just the beginning of something far deeper than you had anticipated.

(Second one)

Thranduil’s presence surrounds you, a palpable force that draws you closer with every step you take. His steps are measured and calm, but there’s a magnetic energy in the air that leaves you feeling disoriented, as if your very thoughts are caught in a haze. You follow him instinctively, your mind still tangled in the weight of his words, which seem to echo through the space in your mind, growing louder and heavier with each passing moment. As you walk, you can feel his gaze on you, unwavering, almost predatory in its intensity. The air between you two is thick with something unspoken, a quiet tension that sets your heart to racing. You can’t seem to escape it—the way he moves, the way he speaks, the way his words weave a spell around you, drawing you deeper into his influence. “I could show you how to be truly loyal,” he says again, his voice smooth, each syllable slipping over you like a velvet caress. But this time, the weight of his words hits you differently. The phrase itself, at its core, seems simple enough. Loyalty. You’ve heard the word before, perhaps from your own lips or from those of others. It’s meant to convey trust, duty, service. But in his voice, there’s something more—a hidden layer that twists the meaning, that turns it into something else entirely.

The way he says it, so slow, so deliberate, sends a shiver down your spine. You almost feel as if the word has taken on a life of its own, as though it’s no longer about allegiance or honor, but something far more personal, far more intimate. It’s as if he’s promising you something, something you’re not entirely sure you’re ready for. His words hit you like a spark in a dry field, igniting a fire you can’t quite control. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize that his suggestion is more than just about loyalty in the sense you’ve known. It carries a weight, a pull that makes your pulse quicken, your chest tighten, and your mind start to wander down paths it shouldn’t be going. Your face flushes, the heat creeping up your neck, as you begin to wonder if he’s implying something far more sensual. Loyalty? you think to yourself. It seems innocent, but the way he said it… the way his voice lingers on each syllable—there’s a darkness to it, a quiet invitation that feels charged with promise. You’ve been around the king long enough to know that he’s not a man of simple words. Every sentence feels calculated, every glance laced with purpose. The thought of loyalty becomes something else entirely in your mind. It shifts from the idea of service to something more personal—more visceral. Your stomach tightens, a flicker of something stirring deep inside you as your thoughts race down that path. What did he mean? The heat in your cheeks intensifies, and you find yourself stumbling over your own thoughts, as though your body is reacting before your mind can make sense of it all.

His gaze never wavers, watching you closely, as though he can sense the confusion, the uncertainty, the sudden shift in your demeanor. That knowing smirk pulls at the corner of his lips, and the flicker of something darker, more dangerous, dances in his eyes. It’s a look that says he knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly how his words are landing on you, and it makes your heart race even faster. He tilts his head slightly, a motion so small, so imperceptible, that it only serves to draw you in further. He’s watching you closely, his eyes scanning your face for the smallest change, for that flicker of recognition. The tension between you thickens, a quiet storm gathering on the horizon. He’s waiting, and you can feel it, the expectation hanging in the air like a breath held just out of reach.

“Would you let me?” His voice is soft, almost soothing, but there’s an undeniable edge to it. An authority that lingers in the command. The question itself, the way he asks it, is layered, rich with implications you aren’t entirely sure you’re ready to face. His words drift through the space between you, thick with that unspoken promise, and for a moment, it feels as if time itself has stopped. You can feel the weight of it, the anticipation hanging heavy in the air. The flush on your cheeks deepens, and you swallow hard, unsure of how to respond. His presence, the way his words have wrapped themselves around your mind, has left you breathless. You’re not sure if you’re responding to the promise of loyalty in the way he means it, or if you’ve misinterpreted it entirely, your thoughts racing into dangerous territory. But Thranduil, ever the observer, sees the shift in you—the way your breath quickens, the subtle tension in your shoulders, the flush in your cheeks—and it only serves to further amuse him. He’s playing with you, testing the boundaries of your control, and you can’t help but feel as though he’s already won.

Thranduil steps closer, his presence overwhelming as the air between you seems to narrow, charged with something unspoken. His smirk deepens, a subtle curve that holds both amusement and intrigue, as though he’s unraveling every thought tumbling through your flustered mind. “You’re trembling,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a tone that feels like silk brushing against your skin. His hand, so light yet deliberate, grazes the barest edge of your wrist. The touch is fleeting, almost innocent, but it sends a wave of heat coursing through you. His gaze sharpens, watching as your lips part slightly, caught between a breath and a response you can’t seem to find. “Don’t worry.” His words are a low purr now, each one carrying a weight that presses down on you. “I’ll show you exactly how to handle it.” Your chest tightens at his phrasing, the suggestion hanging heavy in the space between you. He seems so certain, so effortlessly calm, while your thoughts spiral deeper into dangerous territory. The confidence in his tone, the commanding edge laced with that undercurrent of promise, leaves you unsteady on your feet. You know—you know—he means something else entirely, but the way he says it… your cheeks burn hotter, and you can’t stop yourself from imagining something far more intimate.

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭 (two versions below)

(First one)

The sun had set, casting a gentle twilight glow over the valley of Rivendell. The golden light reflected off the rushing water that wound its way through the valley, bringing with it a sense of calm. The two of you had taken a stroll earlier, as you often did, your arm linked with Elrond’s as you walked side by side, occasionally exchanging soft words or comfortable silence. But now, the day had worn down, and you found yourselves in the quiet warmth of Elrond’s study, where the glow of the fireplace danced over the high, arched stone walls. He had been seated at his desk, reading through scrolls of ancient knowledge, but his attention shifted to you as he noticed the slight tension in your shoulders. You were curled up in a chair, your legs tucked under you, and your posture stiff. The weight of the day—of your thoughts, of your quiet anxieties—had settled on your body, making you uneasy. You hadn’t realized how tense you were until Elrond’s gentle gaze swept over you. His piercing eyes softened in concern.

As the leader of Rivendell and one of the most ancient of the Elves, Elrond had seen countless expressions, heard many words, and understood much of the hearts and minds of those around him. But the slight crease of your brow, the tension in your shoulders—these things spoke to him without words, louder than any speech could convey. He stood from his desk, his movements deliberate and calm, yet there was a tenderness in the way he approached you. “Mellon nín,” he murmured, his voice low, “You carry the weight of many thoughts this evening.” He moved closer, his presence filling the space, a steady, comforting warmth. The proximity between you both—just a step away—was enough to send a quiet ripple through the air. He was a tall figure, regal in his manner, and yet now, he leaned down slightly, his gaze fixed on you with both understanding and something softer.

He knelt down beside your chair, his hand resting lightly on the back of it. His fingers brushed the delicate fabric of your sleeve, the touch of his skin just enough to draw your attention to the closeness, the subtle pull between you. “You’re so tense,” Elrond said, his voice carrying an innocent sincerity, unaware of how his words might be interpreted. He leaned in slightly closer. “Shall I massage you? You’ll feel much looser under me.” The words slipped from his lips in perfect sincerity, his intent to ease your discomfort pure, but they hung in the air between you both, carrying a double meaning that left you with a quick breath. The way his gaze lingered just a moment too long made your heart skip. Elrond, for all his wisdom and centuries of experience, seemed blissfully unaware of the innuendo his words had inadvertently conjured.

Your breath hitched at his words, a flush rising to your cheeks as his innocent suggestion landed. You knew Elrond, knew how his mind worked, and yet there was something in the way he spoke to you—so direct, so matter-of-fact—that it felt a little too intimate, a little too close to the edge of something deeper. His words were innocent enough, the kind he would offer any guest in need of comfort or care, but his proximity—the warmth of his hand just behind your shoulder, the way he was bending just slightly to meet your gaze—made everything feel… different. You shifted in your seat, feeling the heat in your cheeks. The space between you both, so often a comforting familiarity, now felt charged. His deep, velvet voice, his gaze steady and soft, seemed to understand exactly where you needed to feel safe, but in that moment, his words somehow stoked the fire of your own flustered thoughts.

Trying to compose yourself, you cleared your throat, offering a forced smile, but the playful glint in his eye made it hard to keep your composure. “Elrond…” you began, but your voice faltered slightly, unsure whether to address his words directly or to brush it off. His brows furrowed ever so slightly in concern. “Did I say something wrong?” You hesitated, looking at him. His earnest expression was almost too much to bear. He truly did not seem to realize the effect his words were having on you. How could he, when his understanding of language was so direct, so innocent? He had always been somewhat naïve to the nuances of human interaction—those sly little jokes or innuendos that often slipped past him. “No… No, it’s nothing,” you said quickly, trying to regain your composure. “I just—wasn’t expecting it.” You laughed softly, but the flush on your skin remained.

A soft chuckle escaped him then, low and melodic, as he leaned in just a touch closer, his face now mere inches from yours. “Ah, Mellon nín, I meant only to ease your tension. I would never wish to cause you discomfort.” He reached out then, fingers gliding over the tense muscles in your shoulder, as if trying to physically soothe you. His touch was gentle, purposeful, and you couldn’t help but feel the unspoken understanding in the way he moved. Elrond was so tender, so deliberate in his every action. His closeness only amplified the heat that had begun to settle beneath your skin. “I will ease your discomfort,” he said quietly, his voice both reassuring and soft. As he leaned in just a little closer, his breath brushing your ear, the innocent nature of his words took on a different edge. For all his wisdom and poise, Elrond’s understanding of the subtleties of human relationships had its limits.

Yet, in his earnestness, he seemed to have unwittingly created a moment where closeness became more than just physical, but something more intimate, something personal. Something you weren’t sure whether to welcome or to shy away from. You exhaled slowly, trying to calm your racing heart. His presence, his touch, had the power to disarm you in ways you hadn’t anticipated. And yet, as you looked up at him, you knew—despite the growing warmth between you both—that there was something undeniably genuine in Elrond’s actions. He was here for you, as always, whether you needed the massage he offered, or whether you needed space to clear your thoughts. Still, the tenderness in his gaze, the soft, deep sincerity that flowed through his words, left you wondering just how much of his affection was truly as innocent as it seemed.

(Second one)

The room was quiet, save for the faint crackle of a fire in the hearth. The high stone walls of Rivendell’s training hall stood as a testament to the skill and discipline of its people, and tonight, you were once again in Elrond’s care. You had come here to learn, to train in the ways of combat and defense, and Elrond—masterful as always—had been a patient, dedicated teacher. His lessons, though often stern, had always been delivered with a quiet kindness. Tonight, however, there was something different in the air. You could feel it, a shift. Elrond had been watching you closely as you practiced your swordplay, your form becoming more fluid, more precise with each strike. You had improved under his guidance, but this evening, it felt as if he were less focused on the formality of training and more on the connection between you both. He stood behind you now, the weight of his presence almost overwhelming, his tall figure casting a long shadow over the floor. His hands were behind his back, watching intently, but there was a certain softness to his expression. A small, approving smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he observed you, the practiced ease with which you handled your weapon now a point of pride.

His gaze never wavered from you, studying your movements, the subtle fluidity of your form, the grace that was slowly becoming evident. You have done well, he thought, but the satisfaction of seeing your progress only deepened the quiet hunger to see more. To guide you further. To understand you more fully. He could feel your energy—a faint tremble in your stance as your muscles burned from the exertion, the focus in your eyes that spoke of a deeper engagement than simple technique. It was a connection that went beyond instruction. His voice, when it came, was soft, measured, and tinged with a warmth he often reserved only for those who proved themselves worthy of his trust.

“You’ve been such a good student,” Elrond said, his tone low, the hint of praise lingering in the air. “I can see the effort you’ve put in. Would you like to know what happens to those who please me?” He stepped forward, his presence drawing near. The words, though they could easily be interpreted as praise for your progress, seemed to hang in the air with an almost too suggestive quality. His smile lingered just a moment too long, and the glint in his eyes—the subtle flash of something darker, more possessive—suggested there was another lesson at play.

It was as if he were offering more than just guidance. As if his approval meant something deeper. Something he had not yet said aloud, but you could feel it nonetheless. His words echoed in the stillness of the room, and for a moment, the weight of the air between you both seemed to thicken. You straightened instinctively, unsure whether to respond with gratitude for his praise or to question the meaning behind his words. Elrond had always been so careful, so precise in his speech, that the unexpectedness of his tone took you by surprise.

At first, his statement appeared innocent, almost like a mentor’s simple acknowledgment of your hard work. But the way his smile curved at the edges, the way his eyes softened with that knowing glint—suddenly, you weren’t so sure. There was an unspoken weight in his voice, a shift in his demeanor that was hard to ignore. It felt as though there was more to this than mere praise for your training. He was closer now, his presence towering over you in a way that made your breath catch. His words—were they a test? An invitation? You couldn’t tell, but the air felt charged. You knew he was a master of more than just combat and wisdom; his understanding of people, of connection, was something that had always been subtle, even hypnotic. You could feel your pulse quicken as his proximity made the room feel smaller, more intimate. What happens to those who please him?

The question lingered, and you found your own thoughts flickering—should you ask him to clarify, or did you already know? Had you somehow crossed a line without realizing it? His quiet confidence, his effortless power, made everything seem so delicate, so easy, as if he could command anything with just a look. You swallowed, trying to steady yourself, but there was something about him that made it difficult to hold onto your usual composure. His praise was a rare thing, and you’d always known that earning it from him was something special. But now, the edges of his words seemed to promise something more—a lesson that could very well be more personal than you’d anticipated.

The silence between you two stretched, thickening the air. Your heart pounded against your chest as his gaze never left you, an intensity in his eyes that made it difficult to breathe. His words, though seemingly innocent, were loaded with meaning you couldn’t quite grasp. You felt your mind scrambling for something to say, something to break the tension, but all you could hear was the steady rhythm of your breath, growing faster with each passing moment. It happened before you could stop yourself. The words slipped from your lips, an unbidden response to his question—almost a whisper, but they were there, unmistakably. “Please you, my lord?” The moment the phrase left your mouth, you froze, feeling a rush of heat surge through your cheeks. The words had sounded so innocent, so formal in your mind, yet hearing them aloud, spoken directly to him, suddenly carried a weight you hadn’t anticipated. You hadn’t meant to say it like that, but there it was, and the immediate flush on your skin made it clear that you understood exactly how that could be taken.

Elrond’s expression didn’t falter. His lips remained curved in that knowing smile, though now, there was something in his eyes that made your pulse spike even further. He was no longer simply the patient teacher, the wise healer, the master of Rivendell’s ways. No, now there was something more, something darker, flickering just beneath the surface of his calm demeanor. His voice was soft when he finally spoke, but it was laden with a layer of amusement, as if he found your slip both endearing and… intriguing. “My, my,” he said, stepping even closer, his presence now almost overwhelming. His words felt like a caress against your skin, both gentle and possessive. “It seems you’ve already understood part of the lesson, though not quite in the way I intended.”

He leaned down slightly, his breath brushing your ear, and the proximity made everything inside you tighten, an unfamiliar tension pooling in your stomach. There was no escaping the look in his eyes now, the glint that told you he knew exactly what had just happened, and the way he was savoring the moment made you realize that the balance between your training and something else entirely had shifted. “I didn’t expect you to be quite so… eager,” Elrond murmured, the faintest trace of a tease in his voice. Your heart hammered, your thoughts in disarray. You had never meant to sound… that way. But now, it seemed your slip had opened a door to something you weren’t sure you were prepared for. His proximity, the heat of his gaze, the soft, commanding tone of his voice—it all swirled together, threatening to pull you into something deeper, more complicated.

You shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to respond. Did you try to correct yourself, explain it away? Or did you simply accept that your slip had led you down a path you might not have been able to turn back from? The answer, it seemed, lay in the tension that still hung heavy between you both, a tension that, for the first time, you weren’t sure you wanted to escape. Elrond’s lips quirked slightly showing his amusement, as if he were waiting for your response, patiently observing the way your mind worked to piece together the right words, or whether you would simply… remain silent, letting the moment unfold on its own. The choice, it seemed, was yours.

🏵️𝓖𝓲𝓵-𝓰𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭 (two versions below)

(First one)

The small, dimly lit meeting chamber hummed with quiet tension. The heavy wooden door closed behind you, cutting off the noise of the bustling halls. A faint smell of polished wood and old parchment lingered in the air, but it did little to mask the energy that crackled between you and Gil-galad. He stood near the center of the room, his regal armor gleaming under the soft light from the high windows. Even in the stillness, his presence was undeniable. The way he stood, tall and poised, every inch the king—yet there was something about the way his eyes followed you, focused with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but something about this moment felt different.

Gil-galad’s gaze remained on you, calculating, as if he was measuring more than just your physicality. He’d always been a master of reading the room, and you could sense that, just as in battle, he knew exactly what kind of challenge to present to draw out your true strength. He stepped closer, the sound of his boots against the stone floor the only noise that broke the silence. “I would show you the full extent of my strength,” Gil-galad’s voice was low and controlled, but there was an undeniable edge to it—like the calm before a storm. His eyes never left yours as he continued, his words slow, deliberate. “But only if you can prove you’re worthy of it.” You blinked, momentarily stunned. Was this a challenge of combat? Or something more? There was a dangerous undertone to his words, one that made your heart flutter uncomfortably in your chest. He wasn’t just speaking about strength in battle. You could tell. The way he phrased it, the soft command in his tone, suggested that this challenge was more than physical. It was something deeper, something rawer. A game of wills, a clash of desires, emotions, and unspoken promises. Your body tightened, and before you could stop yourself, your mind wandered—unbidden—to places it shouldn’t. You thought of him not as a warrior but as a lover, the power that surged through him in a far different context. You imagined his strength, his solid frame pinning you against the bed, his hands gripping you with that same firm intensity he used in battle. The thought hit you like a sudden wave.

You found yourself blushing—a heat flooding your face that spread rapidly through your chest. You couldn’t look away, but you couldn’t stop the surge of thoughts either. Was that the kind of strength he was speaking of? Was he daring you to enter a different kind of battle? One where his strength would take on a far more intimate form? You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, your breath catching in your throat. Gil-galad, ever perceptive, saw the change in you immediately. His lips curled up into the faintest of smiles, but there was no hint of mockery—only a knowing look, as if he could read your thoughts more clearly than you ever could. His gaze deepened, and for a moment, he was still—waiting, watching, allowing the silence to hang in the air between you like a taut rope ready to snap. You swallowed hard, your pulse racing as his next words came with even more weight than before, his voice dropping an octave lower, more gravelly. “You think you can match my strength in more ways than one?” he said, his words slow, testing, his breath warm against your skin as he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “Prove it. Show me you’re worthy.” Your heart skipped a beat, and a wave of warmth rushed over you, thick and heavy. There was no mistaking what he was implying now, no ambiguity. Gil-galad wasn’t just offering a challenge of strength, he was inviting you into something far more intimate, a space where emotions, desires, and vulnerabilities tangled together.

You could feel the tension thickening, swirling between the two of you like an unseen force. His posture was perfect, commanding, yet there was a subtle shift in him now, something just for you. His eyes never left yours, daring you, waiting for you to respond. But the only thing you could feel was the heat in your chest, your lips dry, your body both frozen and yearning. How would you respond to a challenge like that? The words were barely on your lips, but before you could speak, Gil-galad spoke again, his voice softer now, but just as heavy with meaning. “I’ve seen your strength.” His voice was almost tender now, though still laced with that underlying edge. “But now I wonder… how far you’re willing to go to prove it.” You swallowed again, your mind a whirl of confusion and desire. He was daring you. But to what end? You couldn’t even find the words to explain how his presence, his strength, and his challenge had you reeling.

The silence stretched unbearably as your thoughts churned in disarray. Your heart pounded in your chest, so loud you were sure Gil-galad could hear it. The weight of his gaze, the intensity of his words, the challenge in his posture—all of it was too much. You wanted to respond, to summon some clever retort or steady reply, but nothing came. You simply stood there, caught in the maelstrom of emotions and desires he had so effortlessly stirred within you. Then, the corner of his mouth twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk, and he took another step closer, the faint sound of his boots on the stone floor breaking through the haze clouding your mind. Before you could retreat, his face was inches from yours, his tall frame towering over you as he leaned down slightly. His breath was warm against your skin, his voice low and teasing as he finally broke the silence.

“Earth to Y/N,” he said, a rare flicker of humor coloring his tone, though the intensity in his eyes never wavered. “Are you still with us, Y/N?” The words startled you, pulling you back to reality with a jolt. His tone was playful, but the proximity, the way his voice wrapped around your name, and the sheer force of his presence made your breath hitch. You tried to respond, but your tongue felt tied, your thoughts still caught somewhere between propriety and the wicked turn your imagination had taken moments before. “I—yes, my king,” you managed, though your voice cracked slightly. The heat in your cheeks deepened as you quickly looked away, but it was impossible to escape him. He didn’t move back. If anything, he leaned even closer, his presence utterly overwhelming.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice softer now, though no less commanding. “Because you seem… distracted.” Your eyes snapped back to his, wide and alarmed. His gaze searched yours, and there was no denying it—he knew. The faint smile that lingered on his lips told you that he’d read every thought that had crossed your mind, every inappropriate flash of imagery you’d tried so hard to suppress. “I—no, I’m not,” you stammered quickly, though you cursed yourself for how unconvincing you sounded. “Is that so?” he asked, his tone casual but his words deliberate, as if testing the weight of each one. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Because for a moment, you seemed far away. Lost in thought. Or perhaps…” He let the sentence trail off, the silence more damning than any words he could have spoken.

Your pulse raced, and your knees felt weak as his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that left no room for escape. You couldn’t tell if he was toying with you, testing you, or something more, but every inch of your body was hyperaware of him—his closeness, his strength, the sheer power he exuded even in such an intimate space. “I’m not distracted,” you said finally, though your voice lacked the conviction you so desperately wanted to project. He smiled then, a slow, knowing smile that sent another wave of heat through your body. “Good,” he said softly, his voice carrying the same weight it had before, but now laced with unmistakable amusement. “Because I’d hate to think my words went unheard.”

(Second one)

The air between you and Gil-galad seemed thicker than before, a charged stillness filling the dim chamber as if the very walls were listening. He stood before you, radiating a calm and calculated strength, his piercing eyes fixed on you with a weight that made your heart thunder. The subtle tilt of his head and the way his fingers rested lightly on the edge of the table spoke volumes, though his words were yet to come. There was an undeniable authority to him, but it wasn’t the kind of authority that demanded—it was the kind that commanded. “I know how to break a person,” he said at last, his voice low, steady, and smooth as molten silver. The words sent a jolt through you, not because they sounded cruel, but because of how deliberate they were—measured and intimate, like a confession meant only for your ears. “But I would much rather see you surrender willingly.”

The way he spoke made your mind falter, tripping over the multiple layers in his statement. Was he speaking of battle? Testing your defenses, your resolve? Or was this something else entirely? You swallowed hard, but your throat felt dry, and the faint heat already rising in your chest now rushed through you like wildfire. Your gaze darted to the floor briefly, unable to meet the intensity in his eyes, but the moment you did, the unbidden thought crept into your mind—a thought you couldn’t unsee. Surrender. The word seemed to echo in your mind, taking on a form all its own. Your traitorous imagination painted the image with startling clarity: you, on your knees before him, your head bowed in submission, not in defeat but in something far deeper, something raw and entirely outside the bounds of propriety. The thought burned through you like a brand, and you felt a flush creep up your neck and into your cheeks. You tried to push it away, to remind yourself of who he was and who you were, but his words… they lingered. The way he had said willingly felt too intimate, too knowing, and it unraveled you further. Gil-galad, perceptive as ever, noticed the change in your posture immediately. His gaze sharpened, his lips curving into the faintest smirk—not one of mockery, but of quiet understanding. “You hesitate,” he said softly, the corners of his mouth twitching upward, his tone low and coaxing. He took a step closer, the movement precise and deliberate, closing the already small gap between you. “I—” Your voice faltered, caught somewhere between protest and surrender, but the words wouldn’t come.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, but somehow heavier with meaning. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes boring into yours. “What it means to surrender. What it would feel like.” Your heart leapt into your throat. He couldn’t possibly know what had just crossed your mind, could he? The thought was mortifying, but the way his voice dropped, the way his words lingered, made you wonder. “N-no, I wasn’t,” you stammered, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “No?” he murmured, stepping even closer. His presence was overwhelming now, his height, his posture, the sheer weight of his attention all crashing down on you like a tide. He studied your expression carefully, and for a moment, you thought you saw the barest flicker of satisfaction in his gaze. “Then why are you blushing?” You froze, the words catching you off guard. Your lips parted, but no sound came out as you scrambled for a response that wouldn’t further incriminate you.

“Do not lie to me,” he said, his tone soft but commanding, a gentle nudge that stripped away your defenses. “You can deny it all you wish, but I see it. The idea tempts you, doesn’t it?” The weight of his words made your knees weak, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you wondered if he would notice if you truly sank to them now. The image in your mind surged forward again, unbidden and undeniable. You, kneeling before him, surrendering not out of defeat but because of the trust and power he exuded—because of the unrelenting pull you felt toward him.

Gil-galad leaned in slightly, close enough now that you could feel the heat of him, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. “There is no shame in surrender,” he murmured. “Not when it is given freely.” Your breath hitched, and for a moment, all you could do was stare up at him, your pulse pounding in your ears. The weight of his presence, his words, his gaze—it was too much. You felt like you were unraveling beneath him, but the faint, knowing smirk on his lips suggested that he wouldn’t let you fall completely. At least, not until you chose to.

[callmemonster68]

JUNGWON - The Blood Moonlight ( smut )

Y/N’s life changes when she takes a job at a secluded mansion, organizing the library of seven mysterious vampires. With Jungwon, the hottest moments unfold as she faces danger, passion, and a rival clan under the blood moonlight.

Pairing: Jungwon X FemReader

Genre: Obscenity / Dark Fantasy

Note 1: This story will have eight versions, with only the smut section varying. One will involve the group, while the other seven will focus on individual characters.

Warning: graphic description of gore ( bloond/injuries ) explicit content, unprotected sex, suggestive, penetration, explicit language, climax, sex, swearing, loss of virginity, hickeys, messy make-out sessions, dirty talk, compliments, rough sex, touching bruises, handcuffs, chains, sadomasochism , masochism, brands, group sex,double penetration, oral sex, anal sex, masturbation

Note 2: I'm recently starting to write, and English is not my native language. I apologize for any mistakes and hope to improve my writing. Feedback is always welcome! Text not revised!!!

Y/N never imagined her ordinary life in a quiet town would be transformed by fate. It all began when she accepted a job at an old mansion deep in the forest, tasked with caring for the personal library of its new residents. The mansion was home to seven mysterious men, each exuding a dark charm and harboring deep secrets.

Jake, the leader, radiated authority and charisma. Jay, enigmatic and seductive, sparked Y/N’s curiosity with his intense gazes. Jungwon, youthful in appearance but with wisdom spanning ages, had a kindness that contrasted with his true nature. Sunoo’s radiant smile masked a darker side, while Niki, the most playful, teased her with jokes and piercing looks. Sunghoon was cold and reserved, his silent intensity impossible to ignore. Lastly, Heeseung, a mix of sweetness and danger, seemed to be the bridge that united them all.

Over time, Y/N noticed they weren’t merely attractive and mysterious. There was something supernatural about them: the way they always seemed to know what she was thinking, their inhuman speed, and their aversion to sunlight.

When the truth was revealed—that they were vampires hiding from humanity—Y/N should have run. But the connection between her and the seven was irresistible. Each of them seemed to fill a void within her, and their attraction to her was equally overwhelming.

Life in the mansion grew more intimate as they protected and courted her, sharing moments that transcended the physical, diving into deep emotional bonds. Amid their passion, they faced external threats. Rival vampire clans sought Y/N, believing her blood possessed unique properties capable of empowering weaker vampires.

As the bond between the seven and Y/N deepened, the mansion became not just a home but a refuge against outside dangers. They would face threats, battles, and their own conflicted emotions to protect what they had built together.

    ═══════════════════════════════════════

Jungwon was the most cautious when approaching Y/N. He wanted to ensure she felt comfortable with the idea of being with someone like him—someone who carried centuries of history and a darker side. Their first time happened on a quiet night in the mansion's garden. They talked for hours under the stars, and Jungwon confessed he was in love with her. When Y/N took the initiative and kissed him, he responded with tenderness and restrained passion, as if wanting to make that moment last forever. Their first time was filled with gentleness, marked by soft touches and an emotional connection that brought them even closer.

Jungwon slid his fingers over her hand, observing her with a calm intensity that seemed to hold entire universes. Jungwon: "You make me feel human again, Y/N," he whispered, his voice laden with emotion. "After so long in the darkness... you are my light."She smiled, her eyes shining under the moonlight. Y/N: "And you make me feel safe, Jungwon. With you, I can be myself."He leaned in slowly, capturing her lips in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened, filled with restrained desire. When he pulled away, his eyes locked on hers, warmth evident in his expression. Jungwon: "You have no idea how long I've waited for this... to touch you, to kiss you. I was afraid of scaring you, but now I can’t hold back anymore."Y/N placed her hand on his face, stroking it tenderly. Y/N: "I was never afraid of you, Jungwon. I just want you to show me everything you feel."Her words seemed to shatter the last remnants of his restraint. He pulled her closer, his arms encircling her securely as his lips trailed kisses down her neck. Jungwon: "You are so perfect, Y/N," he murmured against her skin, his voice low and heavy with desire. "Every part of you fascinates me... and tonight, I want to make you feel as special as you are to me."

His touches were gentle but purposeful, every movement showing how much he adored her. He laid her down on the soft grass of the garden, his eyes shining like stars as he gazed at her. Jungwon: "I will never hurt you. I want you to know that," he said, holding her hand. "But I also want you to know how much you make me lose control."When she pulled him closer, Jungwon smiled softly, though there was a growing passion in his gaze. Jungwon: "I will worship you tonight, Y/N. Every moment, every breath of yours will be mine."

And he kept that promise. Every kiss, every touch was filled with care and devotion, making it clear that being with her was more than desire—it was pure, absolute love. From that moment on, every touch, every kiss reflected the devotion he felt. There was no rush, just a genuine desire to fully share the moment.

Jungwon positioned himself over Y/N, their bodies pressed together as they kissed fervently, their hands exploring each other, whispers spilling from both of their lips. Jungwon's hands found the hem of Y/N's dress; he was eager to see her bare, but he wouldn't proceed without her consent. Jungwon: "May I?" he asked. Y/N: "You have my full permission. Do whatever you want with me," she replied with a sweet smile. Jungwon nodded, smiling back, then removed her dress, leaving her only in her panties, already soaked with anticipation. Motivated even more by this, he quickly discarded his own clothes. He placed a tender kiss on her lips before trailing kisses down to her clothed core, sending shivers through Y/N. Grasping the waistband of her panties with both hands, he looked into her eyes for permission before removing them.

Positioning his hardened member at her entrance, he leaned in for another kiss, this one even softer, filled with emotion. Slowly, he entered her, her walls gripping him tightly, eliciting a groan from him during the kiss. Once he was fully inside, he intertwined their hands and began to move—slowly and deeply—his eyes never leaving hers, constant praises spilling from his lips.

As Y/N neared her climax, she wrapped her legs around him, stopping his movements. Y/N: "Please, let me worship you too."With that, Y/N gently flipped him over, changing their position. Now that Y/N was on top, she set the rhythm, her movements fast and intense from the start, drawing the most beautiful expressions and sounds from Jungwon. Y/N: "You’re so beautiful. I can’t stop admiring you."Jungwon, too lost in pleasure to speak, pulled her into a messy kiss, promises and praises spilling from their lips as Y/N rode him mercilessly. Y/N reached her climax first but didn’t slow her movements. Y/N: "Come for me, Jungwon."Jungwon: "I’ll fill you, mark you as mine."

With that, Jungwon released inside her, a breathy moan escaping his lips. Still connected, Y/N rested her head on his chest. As the night melted into the early hours of the morning, Jungwon wrapped her in his arms, murmuring sweet words as the moon continued to illuminate the garden. Jungwon: "Thank you for trusting me," he whispered, kissing her forehead. Y/N smiled, resting her head against his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heart. Y/N: "Always, Jungwon. Always."

    ═══════════════════════════════════════

The nights at the mansion were growing darker. The rival clan hadn’t given up on capturing Y/N, believing her blood to be unique—something that could grant unimaginable power to vampires. Despite all the protection offered by Jake, Jay, Jungwon, Sunoo, Niki, Sunghoon, and Heeseung, an ambush caught them by surprise.

Y/N was gravely wounded during the attack, blood slowly dripping as she collapsed into Jake’s arms. Her eyes filled with tears, but she managed to murmur:

Y/N: "I don’t want to die..."

The mansion fell silent as the seven vampires gathered around her, their faces etched with despair. They knew there was only one way to save her—to turn her into one of them. But it wasn’t a simple process. It wasn’t just about drinking their blood; it was crossing a barrier that would bind their souls forever.

Jake was the first to speak, his voice firm but laden with pain:

Jake: "If we do this, there’s no turning back. You’ll become like us, and the world will never be the same for you."

Fighting against the pain and the darkness threatening to consume her, Y/N looked at each of them.

Y/N: "I trust you. I want to stay with you... forever."

Jay was the first to kneel beside her, his intense gaze locking onto hers. He made a small cut on his wrist, letting the blood drip onto Y/N’s lips. One by one, the others followed the same ritual, each drop of blood becoming part of her.

When it was Heeseung’s turn, the last of them, he hesitated briefly, holding Y/N’s face in his hands.

Heeseung: "This will hurt, but I promise I’ll stay by your side the whole time."

He leaned in to lightly bite her neck, sealing the ritual. The pain was followed by a wave of heat spreading through Y/N’s body, accompanied by a sense of rebirth.

The transformation was quick but intense. Y/N screamed, her body arching as if being ripped from her humanity. Her eyes flew open, glowing a deep red before returning to their natural color. She gasped, feeling every sense heightened: the scent of the mansion’s old wood, the sound of the wind outside, and most of all, the seven hearts around her beating in unison.

She wasn’t alone anymore.

The transformation brought more than power; it brought connection. She could feel their thoughts, emotions, and the depth of love each felt for her. But with that came an intense thirst—a hunger no mortal food could satisfy.

Jake helped her stand, holding her hand firmly.

Jake: "You’re one of us now. Strong, immortal... but it comes at a price. Your thirst will be relentless, and the world will see you as a monster."

Y/N looked at him and the others, her determination growing.

Y/N: "I accept the price. Because with you, I fear nothing."

As the full moon illuminated the mansion, the seven vampires surrounded her, each vowing to protect and guide her in this new existence. They knew the rival clan was still a threat, but now, with Y/N as one of them, their group was complete and more powerful than ever.

Her first hunt that night, guided by Sunoo and Niki, ended with a piercing scream echoing through the forest. The transformation was complete, but something about her blood seemed different. Jungwon, observing her from afar, realized she wasn’t an ordinary vampire. Something in her blood made her a unique predator, and he knew this was just the beginning of something far greater.

What destiny lay ahead now that Y/N had crossed into immortality? No one knew for sure, but the mystery lingered like mist under the moonlight.

Their story, far from over, had only just begun.

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[lvsjuno]

NATIONAL ANTHEM ch.3

Pairing — BF!Rafe x younger!kook!Fem reader

Navigation — Part 02 | Part 03

main masterlist - Spanish version

The morning sun bathed the Cameron garden in a golden light. I was now sitting at the breakfast table with Sarah, Ward, and Rose. Rafe, as always, was sitting beside you, pouring himself coffee while glancing at his phone. The table was full: fresh juice, toast, fruits, and that atmosphere of apparent perfection that always surrounded the Camerons.

The morning had started peacefully, a complete contrast to the previous night; after what had happened, You had fallen asleep at your boyfriend’s house, which meant you had woken up in a wonderful way, seeing Rafe at your side this morning. There was nothing better than the morning version of the Cameron boy to start the day.

You both came down after showering together and getting ready. As soon as Rose saw you coming down, she sent the entire breakfast to the big backyard garden that Tannyhill had, with a beautiful panoramic view.

The breakfast was passing by with apparent tranquility. Rose offered you more fruit, and Sarah shared an anecdote about her last boating trip with Topper. Ward read the newspaper, but his ears seemed to be tuned to every word being said at the table.

“You slept well, didn’t you?” Rafe murmured, leaning closer so only you could hear him.

You turned your body to face him, returning his gaze and getting lost in his hypnotizing eyes. “Better than ever"

The conversation was interrupted when Sarah put her phone down on the table with an exaggerated sigh.

“Maybe we could go to the beach or somewhere later,” Sarah commented, glancing at you. “We should make the most of summer from day one.”

You loved the idea of spending the afternoon with Sarah. Even though saw her all year round, summer was perfect for doing nothing or be out creating summer memories, maybe shopping, walking along the coast for hours while gossiping about other Kooks, or just lying on the Camerons' boat to sunbathe. But before you could respond, you noticed Rafe letting out a small sigh and leaning back in his chair.

“I think it’s time you found another friend. Spend some time with Wheezie or something, but leave my girlfriend alone,” he said, trying to sound casual, but the disdain in his voice was clear.

Sarah turned her head toward him, crossing her arms in a defiant gesture.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“I just want to have a good summer with my girlfriend without her worrying about you, Sarah,” Rafe replied, taking a sip of his coffee, not taking his eyes off his sister.

Before Sarah could respond, Ward lowered the newspaper and looked at both of them with a stern expression.

“Enough, Rafe. I won’t tolerate your arguments, especially not during breakfast.”

Trying to lighten the mood, you leaned toward Sarah with a soft smile.

“Sounds like a plan, Sarah, we could go somewhere later, but I’ll drive this time.”

“You’re going with Sarah?” Rafe interjected, his tone softer when addressing you, but with a slight hint of disapproval. “What if we do something together?”

“We can do something later. Summer is long, plus I already promised Sarah we’d go somewhere,” you replied calmly, placing your hand over Rafe’s to calm him down, he used to get upset quickly and it was better to avoid a bigger problem.

Sarah rolled her eyes, but before she could say anything else, she froze, staring at the dock.

“I’ll be right back, I forgot something I wanted to show you on the boat,” she said.

Sarah got up from the table quickly and began walking toward the dock, her hair flowing in the breeze. followed her gaze, slightly confused by the sudden and strange action, while Rafe brushed it off, slouching in his chair with an exasperated sigh.

“See?” he said, his tone laced with sarcasm. “She always has to get attention.”

You decided to ignore him and didn’t respond, simply taking a sip of your juice, still thinking about Sarah’s behavior.

“I’m going to see what she’s up to,” murmured, standing up from the table.

“Why don’t you just leave her? It’s probably some nonsense or something weird with Sarah,” Rafe replied, trying to stop you to go.

“I’ll be back in a minute, you won’t even notice I’m gone,” said with a soft smile before heading toward the dock.

As you got closer, could make out Sarah stopping abruptly, her gaze fixed on the boat. It was then that you saw John B, leaning over the tanks, trying to move them quickly.

“What are you doing here?” Sarah exclaimed, walking toward him.

John B tensed, clearly surprised, but didn’t stop working.

“I’m just taking the tanks to fill them.”

“If you say so…” syou replied, appearing from the side of the boat, looking at him with disbelief and doubt. “Are you okay, John B?”

“Yes, your eye looks unpleasant”

he replied, lifting his head with a carefree smile. “Tell Topper he won the first round. Next time, the least I’ll do is leave him with an eye like this.”

John B continued transferring things to his small boat, while still listening to Sarah’s words.

“Can we stop with this Pogue vs. Kook thing? It’s so stupid,” she said, leaning against the end of the boat, facing the guy.

“It’s easy to say that when you’re a Kook,” he said, looking at her more closely before turning around and continuing on his way.

“Forget it, Sarah, he’s a stupid Pogue. Let’s go back to the table, your brother’s waiting for me”

Sarah didn’t say anything else, just turned around and started walking back to the house, while Aurora stayed behind, watching the path John B had taken.

The sea breeze gently caressed your face as you walked alongside Sarah along the boardwalk. You had decided to get away from the complex drama at the Cameron house, and although the sun continued to shine brightly, there was a freshness in the air that helped you both relax.

"I'm glad we went out today," you said, looking at Sarah with a smile.

"I told you you'd have fun," Sarah replied, laughing as she took off her sunglasses and ran them through her hair. Despite the tension of the morning, there was something in her demeanor that suggested a need to clear her mind.

"Well, we should enjoy the summer as much as possible," Sarah said, looking toward the horizon with a playful glint in her eyes. "How’s everything with Rafe?"

You let out a soft laugh and glanced at Sarah before answering.

"Well, you know... with Rafe, everything’s a bit... intense, but things are going well, luckily," you shrugged, as if everything was clear in your mind.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, curious. You playfully shrugged your shoulders.

"He's possessive, you know how Rafe is, but I’m not going to say I don’t enjoy it," you said, letting out a nervous laugh. "But deep down, everything’s fine. As usual, you know. How about with Topper?"

The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky with warm colors as the two of you continued walking along the shore.

"Rory, can I ask you something?" Sarah said, looking at you with some nervousness.

You raised an eyebrow, unable to stop yourself from smiling, knowing Sarah wanted to talk about something serious.

"Of course, anything you want, Sa," you replied casually, knowing your friend needed some advice.

"Well... how is someone supposed to know when they’re ready to... you know, take the next step with someone?" Sarah asked, looking ahead, her face slightly flushed.

You made a surprised face but instantly relaxed, leaning a little toward Sarah, smiling knowingly.

"So, Topper, huh?" you responded in a playful tone.

Sarah nodded, her gaze a little evasive.

"Yeah, it's just... lately he's been pushing a lot to... you know, go to 'third base,' and I feel weird, I don’t know if I’m ready. How did you know you were ready?" Sarah admitted, her tone more serious, though still hesitant.

"I don’t know, I’d been in love with Rafe for like two years, it was something I wanted to happen. I mean, have you seen your brother?" you said with a laugh, looking at Sarah with a playful smile and noticing her friend's disconcerted face.

You took a moment before responding, it was important to the younger girl, and you didn’t want to give bad advice that would lead to an uncomfortable situation. "But seriously, you need to talk to Topper about how you feel. You should feel comfortable with him, those moments are for two people who feel at ease with each other. There’s no rush for that moment. If you don’t feel ready, you don’t have to do anything just because he wants to."

Sarah let out a nervous laugh.

"I know, but sometimes I feel like everyone around me is doing it, and I’m the weirdo who isn’t..." she said with a sigh.

You looked at her, completely understanding how she felt.

"Look, if Topper can’t understand that things have their own pace, then he needs to grow up a bit and see reality. Relationships are for enjoying, not for feeling like a race," you explained with a reassuring smile. "You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, never, Sarah."

Sarah smiled, grateful for your words, although there was still some doubt in her eyes.

"Thank you, seriously. Sometimes I think I just need someone to remind me that not everything is that complicated," Sarah said, her tone much more relaxed.

You laughed and playfully nudged her.

"Well, I’m not sure I’m the right one for that, but I can help if you ever need some advice... but I warn you, you might hear or imagine things that you won’t like very much," you joked with a mischievous tone.

Sarah let out a nervous laugh.

"I don’t want to know anything about what my brother does to you, please!" she replied quickly, as both of you burst into shared laughter, walking side by side. "I’ve had enough listening to them sometimes."

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Possession: a Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley x Jimmy Uso fanfic.

Chapter 17: i hate this part by the pussycat dolls…

The bus came to a slow halt as it reached its final destination: Portland, Oregon. The familiar hum of the engine ceased, and one by one, the passengers began gathering their things. Jey and Joseph were the first to step off, their duffel bags slung over their shoulders. Rhea, seated by her window, watched Jey through the glass. She couldn’t help but feel the familiar pang of unease twist in her chest as she saw him. Her mind raced with all the unresolved feelings and tension between them. She lowered her head, willing herself not to get lost in the storm.

Not long after, they made their way to a different hotel, The Royal Sonesta. Rhea felt the divide grow as she grabbed her bag and followed Roman off the bus. The group moved together, each person a piece of a fractured puzzle. As they entered the lobby, Roman knocked on her door to ensure she was with them. Liv, ever perceptive, nudged Rhea gently and asked, “You good?”

Rhea nodded, her face betraying none of the inner turmoil swirling within her. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, her tone steady but detached.

As they approached the concierge desk, Rhea glanced at Jimmy. He stood tall, his focus entirely on the clerk, but he refused to meet her gaze. His silence stung more than she cared to admit. She watched as Jimmy handed over his ID and credit card to the concierge, earning a confused glance from Roman. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t a part of the original plan.

Rhea tilted her head slightly, watching curiously as the concierge processed something. After a brief moment, an ID card was handed back to Jimmy, along with a room key. Without a word, Jimmy turned and walked away, his steps purposeful and distant. Rhea’s chest tightened, but she forced herself to maintain composure.

Roman returned, his expression a mixture of amusement and frustration. “Well, I’ve got us a suite for the rest of us,” he announced, shaking his head slightly.

Damian grinned. “A suite? That’s badass,” he said, slapping Dominik on the shoulder.

Dominik nodded in agreement. “Hell yeah, it’s gonna be great.”

Liv chimed in, her enthusiasm bubbling over. “This is going to be so much fun. We deserve to relax after the last few weeks!”

Rhea forced a smile, the expression feeling foreign and heavy on her face. “Yeah,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the excitement of the others. “It sounds great.”

But inside, Rhea couldn’t shake the weight of everything. The lingering presence of Jey, the growing distance with Jimmy, and the web of unresolved emotions seemed to follow her everywhere she went. As the group made their way to the elevator, Rhea found herself walking slightly behind them, her steps slower, her mind elsewhere.

Whatever lay ahead in Portland, Rhea couldn’t help but wonder if she’d be able to hold everything together—or if it would all finally come crashing down.

Once everyone arrived at the suite, the group immediately scattered, their excitement engulfing the room. The open layout revealed a spacious living room, a fully stocked kitchen, and an impressive view of Portland’s skyline. Rhea silently scoped out the space and opted for the pull-out sofa, dropping her bag beside it. She wasn’t in the mood to argue over sleeping arrangements.

As the others began raiding the liquor cabinet, Damian popped open a bottle of tequila while Liv and Dominik debated which mixers to use. Roman lounged in one of the chairs, already nursing a glass of whiskey, his eyes scanning the room like the leader he always was. The energy was light, a contrast to the storm swirling inside Rhea’s mind.

She pulled out her phone, unable to ignore the weight in her chest, and sent a quick text to Jimmy:

Where’d you go?

Her phone buzzed almost immediately with his reply:

What’s it to you?

The response stung more than she expected. She frowned, her thumbs hesitating over the keyboard before she sent another message.

What’s wrong? What did I do?

The reply came back fast, sharp, and cold:

You don’t get a reason. Fuck off.

Rhea stared at the screen, her jaw tightening as her emotions churned between hurt and anger. She shoved her phone into her pocket and leaned back against the sofa, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Hey, you okay? Want a drink?” Liv’s voice broke through her thoughts. Liv stood by the liquor cabinet, holding up two glasses.

“I’m fine,” Rhea lied, forcing a weak smile.

Liv gave her a skeptical look but didn’t push further. “Well, if you want a drink, let me know,” she said before turning back to join Damian and Dominik. Rhea closed her eyes briefly and Jimmy’s face flashed in her brain.

Rhea opened her eyes and glanced at the others, their laughter and lighthearted banter filling the space. But no matter how much she tried to focus on the present, Jimmy’s words echoed in her mind, heavy and cutting.

She folded her arms across her chest, staring at the window as the city lights sparkled in the distance. For the first time in a long time, Rhea felt completely and utterly out of place.

Liv sat down beside her, offering a small, reassuring smile, Rhea tried to snap out of it.

“You sure you don’t want a drink?” Liv asked again, tilting her head toward the liquor cabinet.

Rhea hesitated for a moment before exhaling sharply. “Fuck it,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll take one.”

Liv grinned and waved Dominik over. “Dom, hook our girl up!”

Dominik sauntered over, holding a bottle of tequila in one hand and a glass with ice in the other. “All right, Mami,” he teased, flashing his signature cocky grin. “What’s your poison tonight?”

“Tequila’s fine,” Rhea said, sitting up straighter.

Dominik poured a generous amount into the glass and handed it to her. Before he could walk away, Rhea raised an eyebrow. “Actually… just fill it up. All the way.”

Dominik’s hand froze midair as he processed her request, glancing at Liv for confirmation. Liv shrugged, biting back a smile.

“You sure about that?” Dominik asked, trying to sound casual.

Rhea nodded, her expression steady. “I’m not in the mood for babysitting my drink tonight.”

Dominik obliged, pouring until the glass was nearly full. “Your funeral,” he said with a playful smirk, handing her the drink.

Rhea took the glass, her fingers tightening around it. “Thanks,” she said curtly before taking a long, burning sip.

Liv watched her closely, her smile fading slightly. “You wanna talk about it?” she asked softly, leaning in closer so the others wouldn’t hear.

“Nope,” Rhea said, her tone firm, though her voice cracked just slightly. She tilted her head back and took another sip, the burn of the alcohol distracting her from the ache in her chest.

Liv gave her a knowing look but decided not to push. Instead, she leaned back on the sofa and raised her own glass. “Well, here’s to getting through whatever the hell this week throws at us.”

Rhea raised her glass in response, forcing a small, bitter smile. “Cheers to that,” she muttered before taking another sip.

Dominik rejoined Damian and Roman at the other side of the room, but his gaze kept flicking back to Rhea. She could feel their curiosity, but she ignored it, focusing instead on the warmth spreading through her chest from the tequila.

She didn’t want to think about Jimmy. Or Jey. Or anything that reminded her of the chaos she was drowning in. For now, she just wanted to drink and forget, even if only for a little while.

As the night wore on, Rhea’s drunken confidence grew. The warmth of the alcohol dulled her pain and fueled a reckless determination. Her laughter had grown louder, her words more slurred, and her boldness completely uninhibited.

At one point, she turned to Roman, who was sitting in a corner sipping whiskey and scrolling through his phone. “Joeeee,” she said, her voice drawing out his name like a challenge.

Roman looked up, arching a brow. “What, Rhea?”

“Where’s Jimmy’s room?” she asked, her words slightly slurred but her intent clear.

Roman sighed, his brow furrowing. “Why?”

Rhea waved her hand dismissively, stumbling slightly but steadying herself on the arm of the sofa. “I forgot he has my Apple Watch. I need it.”

Roman stared at her, unconvinced. “That’s it?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms up. “Now tell me.”

After a beat, Roman sighed heavily, clearly uninterested in stopping her. “Room 421,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Rhea grinned and grabbed her keycard from the table. “Thanks, big dawgggggg.”

Roman rolled his eyes, watching as she adjusted the Apple Watch already on her wrist. It didn’t take a genius to know she was full of it, but it wasn’t his business. He took another sip of whiskey and leaned back.

Rhea, meanwhile, focused all her energy on walking. She muttered under her breath, “Left foot, right foot, left foot…” as she made her way toward the elevator. She swayed slightly but managed to press the button for the fourth floor.

Inside the elevator, she hiccupped, clutching the railing to steady herself. Her reflection in the mirrored walls stared back at her, flushed cheeks and glassy eyes a testament to her current state.

When the doors opened, she stumbled out, her vision slightly blurred but clear enough to make out the numbers on the doors. She squinted, her finger trailing along the walls as she mumbled, “419… 420… ah, 421!”

She banged on the door, her knuckles hitting the wood with far more force than necessary. “Jimmy!” she yelled, her voice echoing down the hallway. “Open the damn door!”

When there was no immediate response, she banged again, harder this time. “I know you’re in there! Open up!”

Her heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of liquid courage and unresolved emotions fueling her boldness. She leaned her forehead against the door, breathing heavily as she waited, determined not to leave until she got an answer.

Jimmy opened the door with a frustrated sigh, his face a mixture of annoyance and confusion. He stood there in a black muscle t-shirt and gym shorts, looking every bit like someone who’d been trying to wind down for the night. “What the fuck, Rhea?” he muttered, glancing up and down the hallway before focusing on her swaying figure.

Rhea didn’t waste a second. She jabbed her finger into his chest with surprising force. “I deserve a reason!” she slurred, her words tumbling out unevenly but laced with raw emotion.

Jimmy took a step back, bewildered. “Oh my God, are you drunk?” he asked, his tone a mix of disbelief and irritation.

Rhea didn’t even flinch. “Listen here,” she said, her voice growing louder as she gestured between the two of them, “me and Jey didn’t do any of the stuff me and you did a few days ago!” Her words came out messy, but the intention behind them was painfully clear.

Jimmy pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly as if trying to rein in his patience. “Rhea, I really don’t want to speak about this right now—”

“Nah!” she interrupted, cutting him off by pressing her fingers against his lips. “You let me talk!”

Jimmy froze, his eyes widening in shock at her boldness. Rhea, unsteady but unrelenting, leaned closer, her breath warm and tinged with tequila as she stared up at him with glassy but determined eyes.

“I gave you everything, Jimmy. Everything!” Her voice cracked, and she pulled her hand away, gesturing wildly as she stumbled slightly. “And now you’re… you’re mad at me? For what? For loving you? For being there when I thought no one else cared?”

Jimmy swallowed hard, guilt flickering across his face for the briefest moment before he masked it with a scowl. “Rhea, this isn’t the time,” he muttered, stepping back to create distance between them.

But Rhea wasn’t having it. She followed him into the room, her frustration bubbling over as she jabbed a finger in his direction again. “No, you don’t get to shut me out like this! Not after everything we’ve been through!”

Jimmy ran a hand through his hair, closing the door behind her to avoid any unwanted audience. “Rhea, you’re drunk. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

Rhea laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and sharp. “Tomorrow? There might not be a tomorrow, Jimmy! Do you even care? Or are you just trying to push me away so it’s easier for you to walk back to her?”

Her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Jimmy clenched his jaw, his fists balling at his sides as he struggled to find the right words. But Rhea, despite her intoxicated state, didn’t back down, her teary eyes locked on his with a mixture of anger and heartbreak.

“Say something,” she whispered, her voice trembling as the weight of her vulnerability began to seep through the cracks.

“Say something!” Rhea repeated, her voice cracking as she slurred the words again, her frustration evident despite her inebriated state.

Jimmy sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Come on, Rhea,” he said, softening his tone as he reached for her arm. “Just lay down on the bed, alright? You need to sleep this off.”

But before he could steady her, Rhea lost her footing. Her knees buckled, and she stumbled backward, landing unceremoniously on the plush carpet.

“Rhea!” Jimmy exclaimed, immediately crouching down beside her, his hand instinctively reaching for her arm. “Are you okay?”

Rhea blinked up at him, her cheeks flushed from both the alcohol and the fall. She let out a small giggle, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s very nice down here,” she mumbled, her voice slurring even more. “You can tell they shampoo the carpets.”

Despite himself, Jimmy couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head as he knelt beside her. “What are you even talking about, Rhea?” he asked, his irritation melting into something closer to amusement.

Rhea hiccupped, her expression oddly serious as she patted the carpet beneath her. “Do you think they replace the carpets every three months or so? Like… with all the people that come through here, it’s gotta get gross, right?”

Jimmy covered his face with one hand, a reluctant grin spreading across his lips. “Rhea, you’re something else,” he muttered, looking at her sprawled out on the floor, clearly in her own world.

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes glassy but oddly curious. “You didn’t answer the question,” she said, her tone almost accusatory.

Jimmy chuckled again, shaking his head. “I have no idea, Rhea. I’ll ask the front desk for you tomorrow if it makes you feel better.”

Rhea nodded solemnly, as if he’d just promised to solve a great mystery. “Good,” she mumbled, her eyelids growing heavy.

Jimmy watched her for a moment, his amusement fading as he took in the vulnerable way she lay there, her guard completely down. With a sigh, he stood and extended a hand to her. “Come on, let’s get you off the floor.”

Rhea groaned but allowed him to pull her up. She swayed slightly, and Jimmy steadied her, his hands firm but gentle on her arms. “You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?” he teased, trying to keep the mood light.

Rhea’s lips quirked into a lazy smile. “Damn right I am,” she mumbled before leaning heavily against him.

Jimmy shook his head again, guiding her toward the bed. “Alright, lightweight, let’s get you settled.”

Jimmy gently helped Rhea into bed, taking special care to remove her shoes and jeans, making sure she was comfortable. After a moment’s thought, he pulled out some gym shorts from his bag and gently dressed her in them. Once she was settled, he climbed into bed beside her, the weight of the situation hitting him a little harder than he expected. He hesitated for a second as she curled toward him, her body instinctively seeking warmth, and he reminded himself that she was still under the effects of alcohol.

Rhea murmured something in her sleep, her words slurring. Jimmy leaned closer to her, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What?” he whispered softly, not wanting to disturb her too much.

“I should have chosen you,” Rhea said, her voice barely audible, almost lost in the space between them.

Jimmy’s heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, he stared at her, the weight of her words hanging in the air. It was too much to process in the haze of the night, but his emotions flickered—confusion, frustration, something else that felt almost like hope.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before leaning in close, brushing his lips against her forehead. “Go to sleep,” he whispered softly, his voice steady, but his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t quite shake.

Rhea shifted closer, her body pressing gently against him as she drifted off again, the air thick with unspoken tension. Jimmy lay there in the dark, her warmth beside him both comforting and complicated. But for now, he knew he had to let her rest.

—

Rhea stirred awake in the dimly lit hotel room, the faint morning light struggling to seep through the heavy curtains. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner. She felt the comforting warmth of an arm draped over her, and as she turned her head, she saw Jimmy beside her. A small smile crept onto her lips as she shifted closer, wrapping her arms around him, seeking the familiarity and safety of his presence.

Jimmy’s breathing changed, signaling he was waking up. He opened his eyes groggily, blinking a few times before his gaze landed on Rhea. For a brief moment, the sight of her in his arms eased him, but then reality hit. The memory of everything—her with Jey, his own guilt, the tangled web of emotions—crept back in, and his chest tightened. Forcing a smile, he looked at her and said, “I think you should go back to your room.”

Rhea’s face fell, confusion flashing in her eyes. “Why?” she asked softly. “I thought we could—”

Jimmy interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “Rhea… I’m a gentleman. I wasn’t going to kick you out while you were drunk. But I’m still upset—about you and Jey.”

Her stomach dropped, guilt and frustration battling within her. “But, Jimmy, please,” she began, her voice trembling slightly. “We just slept… we didn’t do anything.”

Jimmy let out a sharp breath, sitting up slightly and running a hand over his face. “Rhea, I don’t have the strength for this right now. I’ll see you tonight at the event.”

“No!” she exclaimed, sitting up fully. “I want to talk about this!”

Jimmy turned to her, his jaw tightening as he processed her plea. Finally, he snapped, his voice laced with both anger and vulnerability. “Fine! You want to talk? Let’s talk!” He took a deep breath, his emotions spilling over. “Rhea, I get what I did to you was messed up! I knew Jey cheated, and I kept it to myself. And then I went and messed with your head while you were still with him. I get it—I’m an asshole!”

Rhea’s eyes widened, her heart pounding at the rawness of his words. She opened her mouth to respond, but he wasn’t done.

“But damn, Rhea,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly, “after you left him… I figured—” He stopped himself, looking away as he tried to collect his thoughts.

“You figured what?” Rhea urged, her voice softer now, desperate to understand. “Speak, Jimmy.”

He finally looked at her, his eyes filled with a mix of hurt and hope. “I figured you’d see that I really, genuinely wanted you all along,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, heavy with sincerity. “That it wasn’t just about Jey or the chaos… I thought you’d realize how much I care about you.”

Rhea stared at him, her emotions swirling in a storm she couldn’t quite grasp. She wasn’t sure what to say, but the weight of his confession settled between them, impossible to ignore.

Jimmy’s chest heaved as he looked at her, his emotions laid bare, his words carrying the weight of everything he’d been holding back. “Rhea,” he said, his voice firm but trembling with sincerity, “I really do give a shit about you. I would never, ever dream about fucking cheating on you.”

Rhea’s breath hitched, her eyes wide as she listened, tears brimming and threatening to spill.

Jimmy leaned forward slightly, his hands running over his face before he continued, his tone growing more intense. “Why the hell would I go out and get a fucking burger when I got a filet mignon at home?” His eyes met hers, raw and unguarded. “You’re everything, Rhea. And if I had you—really had you—I wouldn’t need anything else.”

A tear slipped down Rhea’s cheek, and she quickly wiped it away, her hands trembling. Her lips parted to speak, but Jimmy wasn’t finished. He needed her to hear him—really hear him.

“Rhea…” he said again, softer now, his voice filled with a vulnerability that made her heart ache. “I’m not asking for just you… I want your heart and your soul. I want all of you, because when I give a fuck about someone…” He paused, leaning closer, his voice breaking slightly as he emphasized each word. “I give a fuck about someone.”

Her tears were falling freely now, and she didn’t bother to stop them. Jimmy’s eyes searched hers, his expression open and unguarded, waiting for her to say something, anything. The air between them felt heavy with unspoken truths, but all Rhea could do was stare at him, her chest tight with the weight of his words.

Finally, she whispered, her voice shaky, “I… I didn’t know you felt this way.”

Jimmy scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “I’ve been screaming it in every way I know how, Rhea. Maybe not with words, but with actions. And if I haven’t been clear enough before, I’m saying it now. I want you—only you. But if you can’t give me that… if you can’t see me the way I see you… then maybe I need to stop trying.”

His words hit her like a punch to the gut, and the silence that followed felt deafening. Rhea didn’t know how to respond, her mind spinning as she tried to process everything he had just said.

Rhea hesitated, her voice trembling as she began, “But… Jey, he’s—”

Jimmy’s eyes widened sharply, his expression shifting from heartbreak to something colder. “Don’t,” he cut her off, his voice low and firm. “Don’t even finish that sentence.”

She froze, her words dying on her tongue as Jimmy’s gaze bore into her, unrelenting. His jaw clenched, and after a moment of tense silence, he let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “That.. just told me everything I needed to know,” he said, his voice laced with disappointment and frustration.

Rhea’s stomach sank, guilt washing over her in waves. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.

Jimmy pointed toward the door, his expression hardened. “Now… please, get the fuck out of my room.”

His tone was final, leaving no room for argument. Rhea blinked, tears stinging her eyes as she grabbed her phone and keycard from the nightstand. Her movements were slow, almost hesitant, as if she hoped he might stop her, but Jimmy didn’t say another word.

As she turned and walked toward the door, the weight of his silence pressed down on her. She opened the door and stepped into the hallway, the sound of it clicking shut behind her echoing like a final goodbye.

Rhea stood there for a moment, staring at the floor as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. She took a deep breath, wiping at her face before forcing herself to move, her legs carrying her back to the elevator. She pressed the button and waited, her mind racing with everything Jimmy had said, everything she had done—or failed to do.

When the elevator doors opened, she stepped inside, her reflection in the mirrored walls showing the tear-streaked mess she had become. She leaned against the railing, her grip tightening on her phone as she whispered to herself, “What have I done?”

The elevator descended, the soft hum of its movement doing little to drown out the chaos in her mind. By the time she reached her floor, Rhea felt drained, her heart heavy with regret. She made her way back to the suite, slipping inside quietly, hoping no one would notice her red eyes and disheveled state.

As she sank onto the pullout sofa, the events of the night replayed in her head, Jimmy’s words echoing louder than anything else. She lay back, staring at the ceiling, her chest tightening as she realized just how much she had hurt him—and how much she might have lost.

—

The tension in the air was thick as Jey stormed through the backstage area of the arena, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. He had been trying to call Rhea all afternoon, each unanswered ring twisting his frustration into something deeper. After everything that had happened between them, after the night they shared, he thought they had turned a corner—or at least taken a step in the right direction.

Lost in thought, Jey’s focus remained glued to his phone as he attempted to call her again. Just as the line went straight to voicemail, he collided with someone. He looked up, already annoyed, only to find himself face-to-face with Tiffany.

“Tiffany? What the hell?” Jey groaned, rubbing his temple.

“Why haven’t you been calling me?” Tiffany asked, her voice breaking as she stared at him with wide eyes.

Jey exhaled sharply, his patience thinning. “Man, fuck outta here with that shit, Tiffany.”

“But I thought—” she started, tears threatening to spill.

Jey cut her off, his tone firm and unwavering. “Tiffany! Get this shit through your head! I’m done. We done. Ain’t nothin’ between us no more, aight? Move on.”

Tiffany stood frozen, her lip trembling as Jey brushed past her without another word. He didn’t have time for this—not today. He continued down the hall, his eyes scanning the sea of crew members and talent bustling around. Where the hell was Rhea?

His mind raced as he turned the corner, only to bump into someone else. This time, it wasn’t an annoyance—it was a shock.

Standing there, exuding his usual confidence, was Jimmy. But it wasn’t just his presence that caught Jey off guard. It was what he was wearing.

Jimmy sported one of his and Rhea’s iconic merch shirts—the one that immortalized their first kiss, their chemistry undeniable even in print. The shirt had been cut into a muscle tee, showing off his shoulders and arms. He paired it with sleek black wrestling joggers detailed with subtle purple scratches, a clear nod to Rhea’s signature style. His feet were planted firmly in a pair of black Air Force 1s, completing the look with a mix of attitude and precision.

Jimmy’s expression was unreadable, but the deliberate choice of his outfit spoke volumes. Every detail seemed to scream a message, one Jey couldn’t ignore.

Jey clenched his jaw, his mind racing. “What the fuck is this?” he asked, gesturing toward Jimmy’s shirt. His voice was sharp, cutting through the buzz of the backstage chaos.

Jimmy smirked faintly, his gaze meeting Jey’s without hesitation. “This?” he said, pulling at the hem of the shirt casually. “It’s what I’m reppin’. You got a problem with it?”

Jey took a step closer, the tension between them growing thick. “You tryna send a message? Huh? ‘Cause if you are, say it to my face.”

Jimmy didn’t back down, his smirk fading as his expression hardened. “Ain’t no message, Uce. Just facts. Maybe you should stop worryin’ ‘bout what I’m doin’ and start fixin’ the mess you made.”

The words hit like a slap, and for a moment, the brothers stood there in silence, the weight of their complicated history hanging heavy in the air. Jey’s fists clenched at his sides, but before he could respond, Jimmy brushed past him, his confidence unshaken.

“See you out there,” Jimmy called over his shoulder, leaving Jey standing alone, his mind reeling.

Jey shook his head, trying to push past the frustration building in his chest, and kept walking. His eyes darted around, scanning each door he passed, until one caught his attention. The nameplate read “R.R” with a small black heart drawn next to it. His breath hitched. Without hesitation, he turned the handle and stepped inside.

Roman was seated on a bench, casually lacing up his wrestling boots. He looked up when the door opened, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly at the intrusion.

“Sorry, Joe,” Jey said quickly, holding up a hand. “I thought Rhea would be here.”

Roman leaned back slightly, his movements calm and deliberate. “She is,” he replied, tilting his head toward the other side of the room.

Jey turned just as Rhea stepped out of the restroom, her makeup freshly done and flawless. Her dark lipstick accentuated the sharp line of her jaw, her eyes lined with precision. She looked every bit the powerhouse she was known to be, yet her expression was stone cold as her eyes met Jey’s.

“I don’t have time for this, Jey,” Rhea said flatly, crossing her arms. Her tone carried exhaustion, as if she’d already anticipated whatever he was about to say.

“Please, I need to talk to you,” Jey said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. He took a step closer, but she didn’t budge, her body language making it clear she wasn’t interested in engaging.

Roman cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Y’all need privacy for this?” he asked, though his tone made it clear he wasn’t really asking. His eyes flicked between the two, lingering on Rhea for a moment.

Rhea gave a slight nod. “Yeah,” she said simply.

Roman stood, grabbing his water bottle and towel. “Aight, I’ll be in catering. But don’t take too long,” he said, his gaze shifting to Jey as he passed him on the way out. There was a warning in his eyes, a silent reminder to tread carefully.

Once the door closed behind Roman, the silence in the room was suffocating. Rhea exhaled sharply and leaned against the counter, her arms still crossed.

“Well?” she said, raising a brow. “What is it now, Jey?”

Jey took another step forward, his hands out in front of him as if trying to physically bridge the distance between them. “Look, Rhea, I know I messed up, alright? But after last night, I thought…” He trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

“You thought what?” Rhea asked, her tone edged with frustration. “That we’d just magically fix everything? That one night would erase all the shit we’ve been through?”

Jey ran a hand down his face, his frustration boiling over. “I ain’t sayin’ that! But damn, Rhea, you keep runnin’ from me every time I try to fix this!”

Rhea shook her head, her jaw tightening. “Maybe because I’m tired, Jey. I’m tired of this back-and-forth, tired of feeling like I’m caught in the middle of something I didn’t even ask for.”

“What’re you talkin’ about?” Jey asked, his brows furrowing.

“You and Jimmy!” Rhea snapped, her voice rising slightly. “Do you even hear yourselves? Do you even see what this is doing to me? To us?”

Jey stared at her, his chest rising and falling with every heavy breath. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say, the weight of her words sinking in. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter but no less intense.

“I see it, Rhea,” he admitted. “And that’s why I’m here. ‘Cause I don’t wanna lose you. I don’t care about the past, I don’t care about none of that. All I care about is you. So please, just… tell me what to do. Tell me how to make this right.”

Rhea’s eyes softened for a fraction of a second, but she quickly blinked it away. She turned her head, staring at the floor as if searching for an answer.

Jey stepped closer to her, desperation written all over his face. He reached out, gently pulling her hand into his, his voice trembling as he spoke. “Rhea… I love you.”

Rhea didn’t hesitate. She pulled her hand away from his grasp, her expression hardening. “Nah, Jey,” she snapped, her voice cutting through the tense air. “I told you my deepest, darkest secrets, bro. I let you in on the shit that makes me happy, that makes me me, and this is what you do to me? Behind my back?! For our whole relationship?!”

Jey opened his mouth to respond, but the words got caught in his throat. He could see the hurt in her eyes, the weight of everything she’d bottled up finally spilling out.

“I really do love you,” he said again, his voice barely above a murmur, as if repeating it could somehow make her believe it.

Rhea let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Nah, bro! You can’t just sit there, cheat on me, and call it love!” Her voice rose, her frustration spilling over as her hands gestured wildly. “You really can’t! And not just that—you did this with a bitch that works with us of all people! You know how humiliating that is for me?”

Jey flinched at her words, guilt washing over him. “Rhea, I—”

“I’m not done,” she interrupted sharply, stepping closer to him, her anger radiating off her. “You knew what I’ve been through. You knew how hard it was for me to trust anyone again, and you threw that shit away like it was nothing.”

Jey ran a hand through his hair, his frustration bubbling over as he struggled to defend himself. “I know I messed up, okay? I know! But I’m standing here, trying to fix it! Doesn’t that count for something?”

Rhea scoffed, crossing her arms as she took a step back from him. “Fix it? You think you can just say a few words and everything’s fine? That’s not how this works, Jey. You don’t get to break me and then act like you can put the pieces back together whenever it’s convenient for you.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, but he couldn’t argue with her. She was right, and he knew it.

“Rhea,” he said softly, his voice cracking, “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I swear to God, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to earn it if you’ll let me.”

Rhea stared at him for a long moment, her eyes narrowing as she tried to decipher whether his words held any weight. Finally, she shook her head, her lips pressing into a tight line.

“I don’t know if I can ever trust you again, Jey,” she said, her voice quieter now, but no less firm. “And without trust… what do we even have?”

Jey’s heart sank, the weight of her words settling heavily on his chest. He wanted to fight for her, to convince her that they could move past this, but deep down, he knew she wasn’t ready to hear it.

Rhea paused just before opening the door, her hand resting on the handle. She turned her head slightly, looking back at Jey with an icy stare. Her words cut through the silence like a blade.

"Yeah, I never fucked Jimmy while we were together," she said, her voice steady but venomous. "But he ate me out on our patio table and he made me cum.”

Jey froze, her words hitting him like a freight train.

His stomach dropped, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe. His mind raced, trying to process what she'd just said, but it was like the floor had been ripped out from under him.

Rhea didn't wait for a reaction. She opened the door and walked out, leaving Jey standing in the dressing room, stunned and speechless. The air felt heavier, suffocating him as her words echoed in his mind.

For the very first time in his life, Jey felt what Rhea had felt. The sting of betrayal, the sharp, gut-wrenching pain that twisted in his chest. It wasn't just the act itself that hurt—it was the realization that someone he cared about, someone he thought he had power over, had blindsided him.

His knees buckled slightly, and he stumbled back, sitting on the edge of the couch. His jaw clenched as anger, hurt, and confusion fought for dominance.

"She really..." he whispered to himself, his voice hoarse and cracking, unable to finish the sentence. His hands gripped the sides of his head as he tried to steady his breathing, but it was useless. The betrayal burned inside him like a wildfire.

It wasn't just about what she'd done-it was that she had kept it from him until now. And the way she delivered it, so coldly, so purposefully, as if she wanted to hurt him the way he had hurt her.

Jey stared blankly at the floor, his heart pounding in his chest. For the first time, he fully understood what Rhea had been feeling all along-the weight of betrayal, the humiliation, the rage.

And it destroyed him.

—

Corey Graves: “What a wild night we’re witnessing here on Friday Night Smackdown in Portland, Oregon! Jimmy and Rhea are on the verge of retaining their titles, but this match is about to take a turn no one expected!”

Wade Barrett: “You’re right, Corey. We’ve seen some spectacular teamwork between Jimmy and Rhea tonight and I couldn’t be more happy that we get to see the inaugural champions defend their gold!”

As the match reached its peak, the camera zoomed in on Jimmy and Rhea standing together, poised for their finishing move. Bianca was lying unconscious in the corner, the result of a brutal maneuver moments before. The crowd roared as Jimmy and Rhea prepared to hit their Uso’s 1D on Montez, looking to secure the victory.

Corey Graves: “This is it! The Uso’s 1D, and it’s all over for Bianca and Montez! Jimmy and Rhea are about to retain their Mixed Gender Tag Team Titles!”

The move was executed flawlessly—Jimmy and Rhea hit Montez with precision, the crowd erupting in cheers as they both went for the pin. Rhea hooked the leg, while Jimmy watched the referee’s count.

Wade Barrett: “This is it! One, two—wait a minute—what the hell?!”

Before the referee could hit three, Jimmy suddenly felt a sharp sting across his back—a steel chair crashing down with brutal force. The crowd gasped in shock.

Corey Graves: “What the hell was that?! Who just hit Jimmy with that chair?!”

Rhea’s eyes snapped up in disbelief. She could already see the culprit standing in the ring—none other than Jey. He stood there, breathing heavily, with the chair in hand. Rhea knew this wasn’t supposed to happen. The match was hers and Jimmy’s to win, but now everything was spiraling out of control.

Wade Barrett: “Jey Uso just ruined this match! The referee has no choice but to rule a disqualification, and Jimmy and Rhea have to retain their belts, but they lose the match!”

The referee immediately called for the bell, signaling the disqualification. The match had ended, but Jimmy and Rhea were forced to retain their titles through a controversial finish. Rhea was in a state of shock, unsure of what to do next, but the chaos wasn’t over.

Corey Graves: “This is a mess!”

Jey threw the chair to the side, his anger oozing out. He stormed toward Rhea, grabbing her by the hair roughly, his voice trembling with fury.

Jey (yelling at Rhea): “You let him do that shit to you, huh?!”

The crowd fell silent. Rhea was caught off guard by Jey’s sudden outburst, his violence and the intensity of his words. This wasn’t just a confrontation—it felt like the culmination of everything that had been building between them.

Wade Barrett: “I… I don’t even know what to say right now, Corey. This has escalated beyond a rivalry—this is something deeply personal. The tension between these two brothers has exploded in front of us.”

Rhea tried to break free from Jey’s grasp, her face a mix of disbelief and anger. She was hurt by his actions, but she also knew this wasn’t supposed to be happening. She was supposed to be celebrating with Jimmy, not dealing with this raw emotion.

Rhea (shouting): “Get the hell off of me?!”

Jey’s grip tightened, his anger only growing stronger. But before things could escalate further, Jimmy, recovering from the chair shot, picked up another chair and swung it at Jey with force. The impact sent Jey stumbling back, but he quickly regained his footing, fury in his eyes.

Jey: “Fight me like a real man!”

The tension exploded into a full-on brawl as the brothers squared off. Real punches were thrown, each blow landing with brutal force. Jimmy and Jey fought with everything they had, and the atmosphere in the arena was electric with the intensity of their fight.

Corey Graves: “This is insane! The Usos are tearing each other apart! What the hell is happening here?!”

Wade Barrett: “I’ve never seen anything like this, Corey. These two have been at odds before, but this is pure chaos. It’s no longer about the titles or the match—this is personal!”

The two men clashed, fists flying, and it became clear that there was no love lost between them. They were brothers, but at that moment, it seemed like nothing but hatred fueled their fight. The security team rushed down to the ring, attempting to separate the two men, but it took several guards to get in between the brawling brothers.

Corey Graves: “Security’s out here, but they’re having a hell of a time trying to separate these two! Jimmy and Jey have reached a breaking point!”

Rhea, still shaken from the events, stepped forward and tried to pull Jimmy away from Jey, but Jey wasn’t done yet. As security attempted to escort him out of the ring, he shouted at Rhea, his voice venomous and full of raw emotion.

Jey (yelling at Rhea): “YOU WANNA GO OFF AND BE WITH HIM?!”

The crowd was silent in shock as Jey’s words echoed in the arena. Rhea stood frozen, her heart racing. She had no idea how things had gotten so out of hand, but she couldn’t ignore the pain in Jey’s voice. Still, this wasn’t the time for a confrontation. Jimmy stood protectively in front of Rhea, holding her hand, but it was clear that nothing would resolve this feud tonight.

Wade Barrett: “Well, it looks like the tension between the Usos has reached its boiling point. I don’t know where this goes from here, Corey, but I don’t think this is over by a long shot.”

Corey Graves: “No, it’s not over. The fallout from tonight is going to be felt for a long time. Jimmy and Rhea retain their titles, but at what cost? And the issues between Jey and Jimmy—this is far from over.”

As Jey was escorted backstage by security, the arena buzzed with confusion and tension. Jimmy and Rhea stood in the ring as the show ended, emotionally drained, with the weight of everything that had just transpired hanging heavily over them. The night was far from what they had expected, and the consequences of this family drama would unfold in the days to come.

author’s Note: “Tomorrow? There might not be a tomorrow, Jimmy! Do you even care? Or are you just trying to push me away so it’s easier for you to walk back to her?” I just wanted to clarify that if some people haven’t got this yet. In Rhea’s inebriated state, she’s talking to Jey.

[transmutationisms]

can i ask you some of your thoughts on nosferatu regarding one, the hardings? two, i though Nichlas hoult acting was great, the best on there imo, what about you? and three, what was the scene between ellen and thomas where she confesses what happened to her supposed to mean?

i thought this adaptation had approximately the correct amount of the hardings, which is to say not very much but they're there to contrast very blonde-ly and married-ly against ellen with her hysterical spells and high sensitivity and fragile body that is prone to being invaded by destabilising forces of eastern influence. killing off anna did annoy me on principle and the arthur character was kind of useless & pointless after that so i do wish eggers had been willing to break with previous adaptations more on that. but situating ellen in the bourgeois nuclear family home while she's fighting with her shame over what she perceives as her culpability in her own sexual abuse is very effective horror, and i did like when anna and ellen are in bed together or even just walking on the beach or whatever -- this film is not driven by character studies by any means but their intimacy is decently shorthanded i think.

i was not really a fan of hoult's performance tbh i thought it was mostly forgettable. lily rose depp was good and willem defoe was reliably good. none of the acting jumped out to me as terrible but i would say hoult's was the weakest.

i'm not sure exactly what you mean by 'what does it mean' haha but i thought it was emblematic of what really works in eggers's decision to foreground sexual abuse like this. first of all this scene is one of the only times i've ever cared about the jonathan/mina characters' relationship because it gives us actual insight into their dynamic -- both of them care for one another, but jonathan has difficulty fully comprehending the gravity of what ellen is telling him, and when he does react to her confession that she (believes she has) asked for & brought on the evil that is orlok, he recoils from her, despite having only just confessed that he too has been violated by orlok. jonathan resolves the crisis for himself by interpreting ellen's confession as his call to heroism, positioning himself as saviour in a way that he believes will also override the feminising effects of his rape at orlok's hands (note also that ellen herself calls jonathan effeminate for this). but ellen throughout the entire film is the character who comes closest to understanding what'a actually going on, despite her distorted conviction for most of it that she is uniquely perverted & blameworthy, and the confession scene too shows us that ellen is unconvinced by this idea of going hand to hand with the monster and saving the day. the film's actual terrain is in the emotional pull & conflict between ellen and orlok. she knows from the jump that jonathan's little saviour fantasy is an irrelevant detour; her superstitions / connection to the occult figure her as a cassandra & telegraph to us in the confession scene that she cares terribly for jonathan but simultaneously knows that neither of them can save the other. for jonathan the scene is an unburdening, and he believes this to be the happy outcome of having confessed; what we see instead is that his burden has merely been shouldered silently by the film's actual hero, ellen. herzog tried to pull this off in his 1979 adaptation but thematically eggers achieves more of that vision here, and with almost as many cats to boot.

[rogerbarel]

I'm extremely emotional all the time about how Roger and Alfons are such easy, excellent foils for each other that only become more thematically intertwined the more you learn about them.

long post, unedited so it's probably disjointed and my observations may be totally banal OR pretentious and reaching idk, spoilers for both their routes (and a brief mention of late into Liam’s and Elbert’s) and possibly some events

They're a pair of insufferable, teasing, hedonistic, hard-drinking men with... questionable consent practices. That's how I'm gonna word that for the sake of not getting derailed. Anyway. They both couch their care for others in self-serving language (although that's not exclusive to them--Jude and Harry do it, too) and overall present themselves as selfish people. They're opposed in taste--beer vs whiskey, dogs vs cat, "refined" vs "rough" (although neither term encompasses them so well). They piss each other off but can't seem to totally detach from each other.

The contrast is immediate but gets emphasized even further in how they value their lives and whether or not they believe they can change their fates.

Alfons is resigned to tragedy and values nothing (or at least tries not to). He is ephemeral and meaningless, only temporarily holding whatever value others see in him, which really says more about them than him. It doesn't feel quite right to say that Alfons's life should neither add nor detract anything from this world--more, it's like any impact that Alfons makes needs to be easily attributable to someone else. Or maybe not? He's so quick to tell the robin to place responsibility for all their encounters on him... And a person you'll eventually forget makes a perfect scapegoat because the grudge and the pain can die with him.

Perhaps as a mirror, he aims to show you the happiest parts of yourself while letting your woes vanish in the mirror with him. And things get wonky when he finds himself with desires, wanting to reach out and mark you rather than finding amusement in just reflecting you.

(I'd like to see him paired in an event with Will and Ellis. Someone who pushes you to be the fullest "you" and someone who places your happiness above all else [or at least attempts to], who all fight with how their own desires conflict with what they otherwise want for you, and how that causes them Emotional Problems. But I'm not a Will or Ellis expert so don't ask me to elaborate on that. Hell, I'm not even an Alfons expert. I'm not an expert on anything! I make Harrison Greyglogabgalab memes and draw Roger’s giant tits!!)

Then there's Roger on his quest to best fate. He can't stop, he can't die. He has to value his life because he's the one doing all this important work! His life is what keeps it going! Nothing is hopeless--it's bleak, but never hopeless--unless he gives up. He is not going out of his way to please, he is here to get what he wants. It might align with what you want, and maybe making you happy is what'll make him happy in this moment, but he can't lose sight of his own priorities. He pisses Al off so much partly because he’s so stubbornly dedicated to finding a way to preserve Al’s personhood/history when Al has long decided to live his days as if he will ultimately be unpersoned. It doesn’t matter what Alfons says, Roger has decided that this is happening anyway. (Although tbf, if he did find a way to eliminate curses, he probably wouldn’t force Al to take it. So he’s not entirely disrespecting his agency. Neither man is 100% consistent in being other-oriented or self-oriented, which I like, because humans are the same way. And I like my characters especially selfish and messy.)

Where Alfons has to learn to figure out a life that centers him-as-person and not him-as-mirror, Roger has to decide where love/another person fits into a life and self that he thought he had very definitively shaped around himself and his pursuits. (That being said, I don't think he was particularly averse to the idea of it changing since he egged the robin on so much in her quest to prove to him that love is real. He also admits in one of his epilogues that he suppressed a desire for companionship. Iirc, it was because he felt he needed to be strong on his own, but it's been a while, so I could totally be wrong on that one.)

I think it's very cool that the hedonist's life is built around everybody else (I would not call this agape or selfless love, or even pathological people pleasing... just an absence of an idea of what to do with himself) while the doctor is always thinking about his own priorities. A little irony!

I also want to chew a little bit eventually on how they both come onto the robin at the end of other routes and how other characters receive that. Elbert specifies lategame (can’t remember which of his endings) that he doesn’t think Alfons would steal the robin away from him because Alfons is typically someone who gives others what they want, not takes what he wants. Whereas he wants her to stay several steps away from Roger at all times. He knows that Roger won’t fuck with his bodily autonomy like past doctors, but he does NAWT trust him with his girl. Idk if I’d say Roger has the least regard for other members of Crown’s wants vs his own, but he at least presents himself as Mr. Steal Yo Girl in at least Liam and Alfons’s endings (I think both blind love epilogues). I’m still deciding how sincere he was either of those times or if he had some ulterior motive. It’s not that I don’t think he could be a total dick, I’m just not totally convinced he’d fuck over Liam or Alfons that brazenly when he seems to care about them in his own “I will never say it” way. And he must have known that Liam was in earshot, that he’d hear Roger hitting on the robin and her rejecting him without hesitation/reaffirming her love for Liam… Still sitting on the stuff with Alfons because it’s possible he thinks that Alfons is too flawed to be her lover, but… idk, he’s been searching for a way to break the boy’s curse for twenty goddamn years, it feels forced for him to talk about Al so callously. Idk! I could be delusional! But it’s fishy to meeee!1

But yeah. Especially with their shared history, it's hard not to view them as a pair. They’re also a lot of fun together; they had me rooooolling in Harry’s aphrodisiac event. Try to distance yourselves from each other all you want, you are on the same! Bullshit!

I've also noticed that a couple people, myself included, seem to have really strong opposing reactions to the two of them (although Alfons has really grown on me), and I'm always curious what the reason for it is because imo they're two sides of the same coin, two peas in a sleazy pod.

Idk what to make of this, I just wanted to ramble about how the parallels between the two run deeper than surface level and how exciting I find that. I love them. Thanks for reading. Please feel free to add to any of this or refute anything I’ve said, I’m really just thinking out loud. Gotta use the ol’ brain every once in a while to make sure it still runs.

[fandomfablesunleashed]

Revelations

Ace x reader (she/her)

Chapter 20 (the last one) of And they were roommates - Modern AU series

THANK YOU FOR READING THIS! I love every single one of you who decided to give it a go!! ❤️❤️❤️

A special shout-out to @lilink—you’ve been here since the beginning, and your comments kept driving me forward😊💖

If anyone’s curious about my ramblings, here’s a link to my yap sesh about this series.

🫶@captainportgasdace 🫶

Your eyes stayed glued to the door he’d slammed shut just moments ago, as if expecting him to come back through it, to take back everything, to explain why he’d walked out when things felt so raw between you. His words played in your mind, like a broken record on repeat.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“I’m falling for you.”

His admission struck you—a truth that left you breathless. You sat down heavily on the couch, your legs giving out beneath you as the emotional storm swirled inside. Ace, the man you had secretly loved for so long, the one who had been right beside you all this time, felt the same way. A spectrum of disbelief, joy, and panic fought for dominance in your heart. But his sudden departure—his need to run—left you raw and reeling.

Tears you had fought so hard to keep at bay began streaming freely now, leaving hot, wet trails down your cheeks. You buried your face in your hands, his absence like a hole inside your chest, widening with every passing second. The apartment felt too empty, the surrounding stillness a stark contrast to the chaos brewing inside.

Why did he leave? The question repeated itself like a relentless drumbeat in your mind. You ran the conversation over in your head, trying to understand what had happened and why he had chosen to walk out.

The questions felt endless, each one more confusing than the last. Should you chase after him? Should you give him the space he clearly seemed to need? But space had already brought him to this moment—packing his bag, retreating, walking away. And what about you? What about your heart, aching and vulnerable, left behind following his departure?

You clenched your fists, anger starting to replace the helplessness that had rooted itself in you just moments before. How could he just leave after admitting what you had longed to hear for so long? How could he not even give you the chance to respond, to show him that maybe he didn’t need to run?

You wiped at your tear-streaked face, standing up abruptly as determination burned in your chest, pushing aside the pain. You had been passive long enough—waiting, watching, and hoping that things would somehow fall into place. But no more. This wasn’t something you could let end like this, with unanswered questions and unresolved feelings hanging in the air. You weren’t about to let him walk away, not without fighting for him. 

You called him again and again. No answer. Of course, he wouldn’t pick up. Frustration bubbled inside you, each ring going to voicemail, only deepening your desperation.

Grabbing your jacket, you rushed to the door, your heartbeat loud in your ears as adrenaline pulsed through you. You couldn’t sit still, not while the possibility of losing him loomed so close. Ace needed to know that whatever he was feeling, he wasn’t alone in it. You couldn’t let him disappear, retreating into his doubts and fears, while you stayed here, drowning in yours.

With resolve, you pulled open the door and stepped out into the night. There was only one thing on your mind now. You needed to find Ace. You had to tell him the truth—that you had fallen for him a long time ago. And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late to make things right.

With no clear idea where he might be, you wandered the streets aimlessly, your eyes scanning every shadow, every figure in the distance. You called Luffy, then Sabo, praying that perhaps he’d gone to one of his brothers, but they had no idea where he was. Each dead-end made your chest tighten with mounting fear. Even texting some of Ace’s friends yielded nothing, but you knew better than to give up.

Your thoughts spun in every direction, memories of Ace filling your mind. From the day he moved in, to the casual moments you shared—watching movies, gaming, cooking together, laughing over stupid jokes—everything took on new significance now. You saw it all in a different light, his confession making the past seem like a string of missed signals and unspoken sentiments.

After what felt like an eternity of wandering, you spotted a familiar silhouette in the distance. His back was turned, but there was no mistaking that tall, lean figure, shoulders slumped, his head down like he was carrying the weight of the world on him.

You quickened your pace, almost running now. This was it. You were going to get answers. You were going to tell him everything.

“Ace!” You called out, your voice trembling as it cut through the stillness of the night. He froze at the sound of your voice, his posture stiffening. He didn’t turn around, but you could feel the tension radiating off him even from a distance.

This was the moment. The one that could change everything.

As you got closer, you called out again, more urgently, “Ace!”

 “What are you doing here?” He finally turned to you as you caught up to him. 

“We need to talk.” You took a deep breath, trying to steady your breathing. 

Ace quickly looked away, his jaw tightening as if he were trying to hold something back. His usual confident demeanor was completely stripped away, revealing a vulnerability that made him seem even more unreachable. “I can’t do this,” he muttered, his voice tight. “I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

You stepped even closer, feeling your resolve grow stronger. “Running away isn’t the right thing,” you replied, your voice firmer now. “We need to talk, Ace. You can’t just leave like this, not after…”

You trailed off, the weight of his earlier confession lingering between you both. The silence felt heavy, but you had to push through it. But before you could, Ace’s expression darkened, his shoulders tensing. “Not after what?” he demanded, his voice suddenly harsh. “After I told you that I can’t stop thinking about you? That living with you is driving me insane because I want you so damn much?”

“Yes. That’s exactly why we need to talk.”

Ace’s composure wavered, his hands trembling as he ran them through his hair. “What’s there to talk about?” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t keep living with you without wanting to…” He paused, his eyes flicking away from yours, unable to finish.

You moved closer again, stepping directly into his line of sight, refusing to let him hide. “Wanting to what?” you asked, your voice gentle but insistent. “To kiss me?”

His eyes snapped back to yours, and the desire in them was unmistakable, though shadowed by guilt and fear. He hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes,” he admitted, the word hanging between you. “I do want to kiss you. I want more than that. Damn it, I love you. I can’t live with you anymore as just a freaking roommate—I can’t pretend I don’t feel this way.”

Your heart raced, pounding against your chest as if it might burst. You hadn’t expected him to say it—those words you’d longed to hear but had been too afraid to believe.

With slow, deliberate steps, you closed the last gap between you, standing so close now that you could feel the heat of his body. Your hand, trembling, found its way to his chest, and you looked up into his eyes, your own filled with the same vulnerability he was trying to hide.

“And what if I want you to kiss me?” you whispered. “What if I love you too?”

Ace’s eyes widened, the shock on his face slowly melting into something softer, something hopeful. His hand moved to cover yours where it rested against his chest, his other hand lifting to cup your cheek gently.

“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” he warned, his voice thick with emotion. “Because if you’re just saying it to keep me here…”

“I mean it,” you said softly, your eyes never leaving his. “I love you. I was just… too scared to admit it.”

For a moment, he looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world—something he’d been terrified to reach for, only to find it had been within his grasp all along. Then with a low, almost desperate groan, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. “You…” he murmured into your hair. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”

You melted into his embrace, your arms wrapping around his waist as if you’d finally found the place you belonged. Everything felt right, as if the puzzle pieces had finally fallen into place. You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

“I know the feeling,” you whispered, your voice muffled against him. 

Ace’s arms tightened even more, and when he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes again, there was no guilt or fear left—only love. Pure, unguarded love.

You smiled back at him, not bothering to hide your affection anymore. “So, are you going to stay?”

Ace didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he said, voice steady. “I’m not going anywhere.” His expression was soft, but there was something playful in his eyes as well. “On two conditions,” he added with a slight smirk.

 “Name them,” you said, keeping your tone light but unable to hide the excitement that bubbled just beneath the surface.

“First,” he began, his grin widening, “I get to kiss you whenever I want.”

The directness of his words sent a warm rush through your body, but you managed to keep your composure, pretending to consider his demand. “And the second?” you asked, though your gaze had already dropped to his lips, anticipating what was to come.

Ace’s smile softened into something more tender. “I get to call you mine,” he said quietly. “You’d be mine, and I’d be yours. Exclusively.”

He searched your eyes for any doubts, waiting for your answer. But you knew exactly how you felt.

Your fingers toyed with the collar of his shirt, a joyful grin tugging at your lips as you looked up at him. “I think I can agree to those terms.”

Before the words had fully left your lips, Ace was on you, his mouth crashing against yours in a kiss so fierce and full of longing that it nearly knocked the breath out of you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you flush against him, as though he couldn’t bear the thought of even an inch of space between you.

His kiss was hungry and desperate, as if he’d been starving for you all this time, holding himself back for too long. And you responded immediately, your body molding to his as if it had always been meant to do so.

It was like a dam breaking. All the pent-up desire, the yearning, the love you had both hidden away for so long came flooding out, sweeping you both up in a wave of passion. The world outside disappeared; there were only the two of you, lost in the heat of the moment, your lips moving together fiercely, and neither of you could bear to stop.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your chests rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. And you both were smiling like fools.

“We should probably get off the street,” you said lightly, though you made no move to step away from him.

Ace chuckled, his arms still wrapped around you, holding you close. “You’re probably right,” he said, though the glint in his eyes suggested he wasn’t in any rush to let you go either. “But I don’t think I can just yet.”

He leaned down, stealing another kiss—this one softer but no less consuming. You melted into his arms once more, savoring the warmth of his body, the taste of his lips, and the feel of his hands on you. But this time, you forced yourself to pull back, though the effort nearly killed you.

You both stood there, gazing into each other’s eyes—grinning, flushed, breathless. A small, delighted giggle bubbled up from your chest, breaking the silence.

Ace arched an eyebrow, his lips quirking into that lopsided smirk that always made your knees weak.  “What’s so funny?”

“Just thinking about how long it took us to get here. All that time wasted.”

Ace laughed loudly, and you were reminded how much you missed this sound—how you’d missed him. He reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face with a gentleness that stirred something deep within you, a sensation that might have been enough to make you fall for him all over again—if you hadn’t already been hopelessly in love with him.

He moved to capture your lips once again. Now that he knew he could do that, he found himself unable to hold back. 

“If we don’t stop now,” you murmured, your lips still brushing against his, “we might get arrested for public indecency.”

Ace laughed even more. His eyes roamed over your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, your kiss-swollen lips, and the way your pupils were blown wide with adoration. He cupped your cheek again, his thumb grazing your skin like he couldn’t believe you were real. He couldn't believe he was such an idiot, not seeing what was right before him all this time. And the fact that he had nearly walked away from all that was too much to bear.

“As much as I’d love to make a spectacle of us,” he said, “maybe we should head back to… our place.”

The way he said it—our place—sent a shiver through you, filling your chest with warmth. You grinned, your heart racing as you leaned up to brush another teasing kiss against his lips before pulling away. “Our place,” you echoed. “Let’s go home, Ace.”

He smiled, the word home hanging between you like a promise. He took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world. As he guided you back toward your apartment, his thumb absently stroked your knuckles, and his smile never faded.

When you reached the doorstep, Ace paused, turning to look at you, his expression thoughtful. “Home,” he murmured softly, the word carrying a depth that spoke to something more than just a physical space.

Your heart swelled, your smile tender and full of love as you gazed at him. “Home,” you echoed, the word now carrying a deeper, more profound meaning. With a soft click, you opened the door, stepping across the threshold together.

The door closed behind you, sealing out the night and leaving behind all the uncertainty and hesitation of the past. Inside, it was just the two of you, standing on the precipice of something new and exciting.  You weren't just living together anymore.  You shared a home, a space that was now yours in a way it had never been before.

As Ace’s hand tightened around yours, you knew. This was it—the beginning of your life together. No longer just two separate people moving through the world, but something more. Something intertwined, built on trust and love, ready to face whatever came next.

And like that, you weren't just roommates anymore.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Playing for Keeps | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Chapter 1

Starting your seventh year at Hogwarts should be exciting, but transferring from Beauxbatons turns out to be more challenging than you anticipated—especially with Sebastian Sallow, the sharp-tongued school heartthrob, going out of his way to make things difficult. But unlike most, you refuse to back down. When he crosses a line, you push back just as hard, earning his respect and capturing his attention in ways he struggles to admit.

But when a bet with Sebastian’s rival, Leander Prewett, comes to light, Sebastian must choose between protecting his pride or fighting to rebuild trust with the one person who’s ever truly challenged him.

Words: ~6,800

Tags: Modern AU, Reader Insert, Seventh Year, Female MC, No Y/N, Slytherin MC, Enemies to Lovers, Trope-y, Slow Burn, Humor, Fluff, Angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Coming of Age, Plus-Sized Protagonist, Body Image, High School Drama

The rhythmic clatter of the train against the tracks filled the small compartment as you gazed out the window, watching the rolling Scottish hills blur past. You couldn’t help but feel like you were drifting through a dream—one both familiar and completely foreign. The Hogwarts Express, with its polished wood interiors and the faint scent of sweets from the trolley somewhere down the corridor, was a stark contrast to the sleek, airy carriages of the Beauxbatons carriages you’d grown used to.

“Still daydreaming, Chouette?” Imelda Reyes smirked, kicking your shin lightly under the small table between you.

You snapped out of your thoughts, turning your attention back to her. “Not daydreaming,” you said, though the heat rising to your cheeks probably said otherwise. “Just thinking.”

“About how different you look in those robes, maybe?” she teased, gesturing to your Hogwarts attire. Unlike hers, crisp and proudly adorned with green and silver, yours lacked a house tie and emblem, leaving you looking oddly plain. “Don’t worry; they’ll sort you soon enough. Though if you don’t end up in Slytherin with me, I might disown you.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. Imelda hadn’t changed. Her sharp tongue was as much her armor as it was her way of showing affection. “They didn’t have houses at Beauxbatons,” you reminded her, smoothing the fabric of your robe self-consciously. “Sorting is new.”

Imelda shrugged. “He's just a nosy hat. You’ll be fine. Though I’ll admit, it’s going to be strange not knowing where you’ll sit in the Great Hall until after the feast. No matter what happens, at least we've got this first night together!”

You hummed in response, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. The idea of being paraded in front of an entire school while a magical hat decided your fate wasn’t exactly comforting. Then again, neither was uprooting your life for the second time in less than a decade.

Not that the move back to Scotland had been a choice.

Your grandmother’s health had been declining for months, and with your grandfather gone, your mother had insisted on returning home to care for her. It wasn’t that you didn’t understand—family came first, always—but it didn’t make the transition any easier.

You had grown up in Scotland but moved to France at ten years old to attend Beauxbatons. Back then, the language, the culture, the people—they had all been a steep adjustment, but in truth, they had molded you into who you were. Beauxbatons had become home, the place where you found your footing. Now, at eighteen, just as you were preparing to finish your final year, you were being uprooted again, starting over in a country that was both familiar and foreign.

Imelda studied you for a moment, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as she leaned back in her seat. “You're so quiet, this isn’t like you,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Normally, you’re the type to run headfirst into things… what gives?”

You hesitated, glancing down at your hands. “I don’t know,” you mumbled, though that wasn’t entirely true. “It’s just… a lot. New school, new people, everything being different. What if I don’t fit in?”

Imelda snorted, rolling her eyes as if the thought were utterly absurd. “Oh, please. You’ll be fine. Half the idiots at Hogwarts will be tripping over themselves to talk to you once they hear that half-French, half-Scottish accent of yours. And the other half will be too busy being jealous.”

You tried to laugh, but the sound came out more nervous than anything. “I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

“It is,” she insisted, her grin turning smug. “And besides, you’ve got me.”

You gave her a faint smile. “Thanks, Mel.”

She waved a hand, brushing off the sentiment with a casual flick of her wrist. “Don’t get sappy on me now, Chouette. You’re going to be fine.”

But as her words settled in the air between you, your thoughts drifted. Imelda’s confidence in you was comforting, sure—but it also felt so far from the truth you were carrying inside. Because while she saw someone bold and daring, right now you felt the opposite.

The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels began to slow, and you felt a slight jolt as the Hogwarts Express started its final approach to the station. Outside the window, the landscape shifted, the rolling hills giving way to a darkened platform illuminated by soft, golden lanterns. Students began gathering their things, voices rising in excitement as they peered out into the cool evening air.

Imelda leaned over, her sharp eyes scanning the platform with a familiar confidence. “Here we go,” she said, nudging you with her elbow.

The train hissed to a stop, steam billowing into the night as the chatter inside the compartments swelled. You clutched the strap of your bag tightly, your pulse quickening as Imelda stood, gesturing for you to follow her. The aisle was a chaos of students jostling to disembark, and you found yourself swept up in the tide as Imelda led the way with ease.

When you stepped off the train, the chill of the Scottish air hit you instantly, sharp and bracing against your skin. The platform was alive with movement, students reuniting with friends after the summer, calling out to one another over the clamor of luggage being hauled off the train. Lanterns cast a warm glow over the cobblestones, and in the distance, you could see the faint silhouettes of carriages waiting to carry students up to the castle.

“First years, over here! First years, this way!” a booming voice called, and your head turned to see a figure waving a lantern high above the crowd. A group of wide-eyed first years shuffled nervously in his direction, their excitement palpable.

“Come on,” Imelda said, grabbing your arm to pull you along. “Our carriages are this way. Stick close, or you’ll end up in the lake with the first years.”

You followed Imelda closely, gripping the strap of your bag as your eyes darted around, taking everything in. The sound of hooves echoed faintly in the distance, and when you glanced up the path, you caught sight of the carriages waiting to bring students to the castle. They were drawn by strange, skeletal creatures with leathery wings—Thestrals, you realized with a start.

“Are those—?” you began, but before you could finish, a shout interrupted you.

“Imelda!”

Two boys waved from further up the platform, their voices cutting through the bustle around you. Your eyes were drawn to them immediately. The first was a red-haired boy with an easy, infectious grin that seemed to light up his face. Beside him stood a taller, blonde-haired boy, his striking features framed by an air of quiet composure. Their robes gave away their houses—red and gold for the cheerful one, green and silver for the reserved one. Gryffindor and Slytherin, you realized.

“Of course,” Imelda chuckled good-naturedly before raising her hand in a wave. “Come on,” she said to you.

You trailed behind her as she strode confidently toward the pair, your gaze flicking between them. The redheaded boy beamed as you approached.

“Reyes! Great to see you!” he called out, his grin wide and his green eyes alight with curiosity as they landed on you. “And who’s this?” He extended a freckled hand toward you, his energy practically buzzing with warmth. “Garreth Weasley, at your service.”

You hesitated for half a second before taking his hand. “Erm, hi,” you said, your voice a little unsure as you introduced yourself.

Imelda crossed her arms and smirked. “This is Hogwarts newest Seventh Year. You can call her Chouette,” she announced with a pointed look in your direction.

You felt your face heat instantly. “Imelda!”

Garreth perked up at this, a delighted grin spreading across his face. “Chouette? That’s French, isn’t it?”

“For ‘owl,’ yes,” you confirmed, your tone edged with mild bitterness.

Garreth chuckled, clearly amused, but it was the taller boy, the one with pale blonde hair and an unreadable expression, who spoke next. “Well,” he said smoothly, his voice low and measured. “I'm Ominis Gaunt. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Chouette.”

The way he pronounced it was flawless, as though he’d been saying it his entire life. You blinked, caught off guard by the effortless precision. “Thank you, you too,” you said cautiously, unsure of what else to add as a flicker of recognition lit in your mind.

Gaunt. The name wasn’t just uncommon—it carried a certain weight, steeped in the histories of old wizarding families, and the implications lingered, leaving you hesitant as you glanced at him again.

Before you could dwell on it, Imelda’s voice cut through your thoughts. “Don’t look so worried,” she said breezily, elbowing you in the side. “Ominis isn’t nearly as scary as his last name makes him sound.”

Ominis’s lips twitched faintly, though whether it was amusement or irritation, you couldn’t tell. “Thank you, Reyes,” he said dryly, “for the glowing endorsement.”

Imelda smirked. “Anytime.”

Garreth grinned. “Ominis is harmless. He just looks intimidating because he refuses to smile properly.”

Ominis shot him a pointed look, but Garreth only laughed. The banter between them was easy, and you found yourself relaxing slightly, even as your nerves lingered.

“Come on,” Imelda said, jerking her head toward the carriages. “If we stand here any longer, all the good ones will be taken. We’ll get stuck riding with a pack of loudmouth second-years.”

You followed Imelda down the path, the sound of students bustling and calling out to one another echoing across the platform. The Thestrals loomed closer, their frames almost ethereal in the glow of the lanterns. You hesitated briefly before climbing into the carriage after her, settling onto the bench beside her while Garreth and Ominis took the opposite seats. The wood creaked faintly under the weight, and with a slight jolt, the Thestrals began to move.

As the carriage rolled forward, Imelda leaned casually out of the carriage, her hand raised in a sharp wave toward someone in the distance. “Samantha!” she called out, her voice carrying easily. “Don’t forget—we’re sitting together for Herbology this year!”

Further along the path, Garreth grinned and shouted something indecipherable to a cluster of students by another carriage. One of them—a freckled Gryffindor girl with tawny-brown hair—giggled and waved back. “That’s Cressida,” Garreth explained with a cheeky glance your way. “My girlfriend, and a Charm’s genius. I’d be lost without her.”

Ominis, though quieter, acknowledged almost every passing group with a polite nod or a brief exchange. At one point, you caught him waving to a dark-haired boy holding a stack of books balanced precariously in his arms. “Amit Thakkar,” Imelda muttered under her breath, catching your questioning look. “Smartest guy in school.”

You sat back, watching the interactions unfold, the warmth and familiarity in every exchange. Imelda, Garreth, and Ominis were like threads in a tightly woven tapestry, seamlessly connected to everyone around them. The ease with which they navigated the chaos made you painfully aware of just how out of place you felt.

At Beauxbatons, you’d had your own circle of friends—people who knew your quirks and shared your jokes, who had seen you at your best and your worst. Now, all of that felt so far away, like another life entirely. You wrapped your fingers around the strap of your bag, gripping it tightly as the ache of longing settled in your chest.

“Chouette?” Imelda’s voice broke through your thoughts, her sharp eyes studying you. “You good?”

You blinked, forcing a small smile. “Yeah, just… taking it all in.”

She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but didn’t press further. Instead, she leaned back and crossed her arms, smirking as she turned to Garreth. “Bet all you Gryffindors are going to pout when she's sorted into Slytherin with Ominis and I."

Garreth snorted, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Please. You really think the hat’s going to let you have her? Gryffindor’s clearly where she belongs.”

“Clearly?” Ominis interjected, one pale brow arching delicately. “The hat doesn’t favor reckless overconfidence, Weasley.”

Garreth grinned. “Speaking of reckles overconfidence, I'm sure Sallow is already up to no good and classes haven't even started."

“I don’t know what’s more concerning,” Ominis muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, “that you think he’s already causing trouble, or that you sound impressed.”

Garreth shrugged. “If you don’t admire a little chaos, Ominis, what’s the point?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at their bickering, though the unfamiliar name snagged in your mind. “Sallow?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

“Sebastian Sallow,” Imelda said with a roll of her eyes. “Slytherin's star Beater, eternal troublemaker, and Hogwarts’ most persistent heartbreak. Next to Leander Prewett, that is.”

“Persistent is putting it kindly,” Ominis muttered. “He’s my oldest friend, but even I’d describe him as… relentless. If there’s trouble to be found, he’ll find it.”

“And probably make it worse,” Imelda added, smirking.

Garreth chimed in, grinning. “He’s also at the top of our Defense Against the Dark Arts class. As much as it pains me to admit it, he’s annoyingly talented.���

Imelda hummed thoughtfully. “Honestly, he’s a lot like you—except dialed up to eleven.”

You blinked, taken aback by the comment. “Like me?”

“Well, sure,” Imelda said with a shrug, her tone casual but knowing. “Sharp. Driven. Bold. Stubborn. Always ready to throw yourself into something headfirst.”

“Usually without thinking, in Sebastian's case," Ominis interjected dryly, though there was no malice in his tone.

You hesitated, their words sinking in. Confidence. Boldness. Those were the things people always said about you, the qualities they seemed to admire. But underneath it all, you weren’t sure how much of it was real and how much was just a well-practiced act.

Still, you managed a smile, brushing the thought aside. “So… troublemaker, charmer, and duelling prodigy. Got it. Should I be worried?”

“Yes,” they all said in unison.

You shook your head, suppressing a laugh, though the image of this mysterious Sebastian Sallow stuck with you. Still, your curiosity shifted back to the matter at hand. “What exactly does the Sorting Hat look for?” you asked, glancing between the three of them.

Ominis’s expression softened slightly, his thoughtful demeanor returning. “It depends. Qualities, values, ambitions… It’s not just about who you are now—it’s about who you have the potential to become.”

“And sometimes,” Imelda added with a shrug, “it just throws you somewhere unexpected to see if you’ll sink or swim.”

“Comforting,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Well, here’s hoping the hat knows what it’s doing,"

“It does,” Ominis said, his voice cutting through the chatter. His pale gaze was steady. “The Sorting Hat has been doing this for centuries. It doesn’t get it wrong.”

His words carried a finality that left little room for argument, and while they didn’t exactly ease your nerves, you found them oddly reassuring.

The carriage slowed to a stop, jolting slightly as the Thestrals came to rest. The castle loomed above you, its towers piercing the darkening sky and its warm, glowing windows casting light across the grounds. Students were already filing toward the massive oak doors in groups, their chatter filling the cool evening air.

Imelda hopped out of the carriage first, her steps confident as always, and you followed closely behind, clutching your bag.

Garreth offered you a cheerful grin as he stepped down after Ominis, his hair catching the glow of the lanterns. “Well, looks like this is where we part ways,” he said, his gaze shifting toward a small group of Gryffindors gathered nearby. One of the girls—Cressida, you realized—waved at him, and he waved back with easy enthusiasm before turning to you.

“Good luck settling in, Chouette,” Garreth said, his grin widening. “And remember—Gryffindor’s the obvious choice.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his cheerful energy. “Thanks, Garreth. I’ll see you around.”

“Count on it,” he replied with a wink, then jogged off toward his friends, sliding seamlessly into their group.

Your gaze lingered for a moment, watching the way the Gryffindors welcomed him. Their laughter was infectious, their camaraderie easy. Among them was a tall boy with dark red hair and an effortlessly confident demeanor. He stood slightly apart, twirling a wand idly between his fingers as he spoke. There was something about the way he carried himself—relaxed but assured—that made it hard to look away.

Imelda’s sharp snort broke your reverie. Looping her arm through yours, she tugged you along. “Don’t let Weasley fool you. Slytherin is the best option.”

You glanced back over your shoulder one last time, your eyes flickering to the boy just as he tossed his wand in the air and caught it effortlessly, grinning at something one of his friends said. There was something magnetic about him, something that made you wonder who he was. You hadn’t even realized you were staring until Imelda tugged on your arm again, chuckling softly.

“Oh, Merlin,” she said, clearly amused. “Already eyeing Prewett, are you?”

“What?” you asked, startled. “I wasn’t—”

Imelda rolled her eyes, her grin widening. “Sure you weren’t. That’s Leander Prewett. Top Summoner’s Court player in the school, a massive flirt, and annoyingly good at just about everything. And yes,” she added with a smirk, “he’s fully aware of how good-looking he is.”

You felt heat creep up your neck as you scrambled to defend yourself. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Right,” Imelda said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You were just appreciating the scenery.”

Groaning, you nudged her with your elbow. “Can we just go?”

Ominis chuckled. “Come on, Imelda. I’m sure she’s already overwhelmed enough.

Imelda rolled her eyes but relented, leading you inside and toward the Great Hall. When the three of you reached the Slytherin table, Imelda gestured toward a spot next to her. The table gleamed under the flickering candlelight, its surface polished to a mirror shine. You sat down tentatively, Imelda on one side and two other girls—one with dark hair spilling down her back, the other with her somewhat lighter hair tied neatly into a ponytail—on the other.

“Ladies,” Imelda said smoothly, gesturing to you with a casual wave. “This is my oldest friend and Hogwarts newest transfer student."

The girl with the ponytail grinned warmly. “Nerida Roberts,” she said, offering a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“And I’m Grace Pinch-Smedley,” added the other girl, giving a polite nod. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

“Thank you,” you said warmly, offering your name as you shook Nerida’s hand. Turning to Grace with a small smile, you added, “It’s nice to meet you both.”

Ominis slid gracefully into the seat across from Nerida and Grace, his movements precise and deliberate. He rested his hands lightly on the table, his pale gaze shifting in your direction. “So, Beauxbatons,” he began, his voice polite and curious. “What was it like? I’ve always imagined it to be… grand.”

You blinked at the sudden attention but managed a small smile. “It’s beautiful,” you said, trying to sum up a place that had been your home for so long. “Elegant, for sure. But strict, too. Everything had to be perfect—uniforms, posture, manners.”

Nerida snorted softly, her elbow propped on the table. “Sounds dreadful. How’d you survive?”

You chuckled. “I ask myself that sometimes. It was a lot, but... well, it was home. And all my friends were there. Not to mention the grounds were stunning, and the food was incredible.”

Ominis nodded thoughtfully. “I imagine the transition to Hogwarts must be… a bit jarring.”

You hesitated, glancing at Imelda, who gave you a subtle nudge under the table. “It’s definitely different,” you admitted. “Less polished, but in a good way. It feels more alive.”

“Alive is one way to put it,” Nerida quipped with a grin. “Chaotic might be more accurate. Just wait until Peeves finds you.”

“Peeves?” you asked, furrowing your brow.

“The Poltergeist,” Grace supplied with a sigh. “You’ll hear him before you see him, unfortunately.”

Before you could ask for details, a voice interrupted the conversation—a smooth, confident drawl that cut through the noise like a sharp blade.

“Well, well, what do we have we here?”

You looked up and froze. The boy standing at the head of the table was, for lack of a better word, stunning. Dark brown hair framed his angular face, his warm brown eyes sharp and filled with mischief, and his smile—crooked and self-assured—had an edge of arrogance that was almost magnetic.

And then there was the way he was dressed—or, rather, the way he wasn’t. While everyone else around you was neatly clad in Hogwarts uniforms, this boy had abandoned the standard entirely. His black cloak was draped lazily over his arm, and he wore a faded black shirt with a band logo you recognized, the sleeves rolled just enough to show off his forearms.

Your stomach flipped before you could stop it. But then he opened his mouth again.

“New girl, huh?” His gaze flicked over you, assessing. “Guess Hogwarts is letting in anyone these days.”

The warmth that had been bubbling in your chest turned icy in an instant.

“Don't be an ass," Ominis said, his tone sharp enough to cut glass.

Imelda’s eyes narrowed as she leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms. "Surely you don’t want to embarrass yourself before she even knows who you are.”

The boy shrugged, flashing you a grin that might have been charming if you weren’t already bristling. “Apologies,” he said, though his tone was anything but sincere. “Sebastian Sallow. And you are?”

You stared at him, your mind connecting the dots almost instantly. So this is the infamous Sebastian Sallow. Recognition flickered, followed quickly by irritation.

“Chouette,” Imelda said smoothly, gesturing toward you. “Hogwarts’ newest transfer student. My oldest friend. And if you keep running your mouth, you’ll be eating pudding from the hospital wing by the end of the night.”

Grace stifled a laugh, while Nerida smirked openly. Ominis simply sighed, his expression a mix of exasperation and mild amusement.

Sebastian raised his hands in mock surrender, though his grin didn’t waver. “No need for violence, Imelda." He chuckled and slid into the seat beside Ominis as his sharp brown eyes flicked to your colorless robes, the lack of a house tie or emblem drawing his attention.

“Hmm,” he drawled, leaning slightly against the table as though appraising a particularly curious find. “I don’t think you’ll be sitting at this table for long.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Oh?”

“Judging by the… interesting nickname and the accent,” he continued, his tone dripping with amusement. “let me guess, you’re from Beauxbatons? And their students are what—Hufflepuff material? Maybe Ravenclaw?”

“Sebastian,” Ominis warned, his voice low and sharp.

“I'm just saying,” he said, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “I wouldn’t hold my breath. Slytherin’s not for everyone, especially someone who’s used to…” He paused as he gestured vaguely again, “…a more delicate lifestyle.”

You scoffed. “And here I thought Slytherins were supposed to be cunning,” you replied evenly, tilting your head slightly as you found your voice. “But I guess all that ambition doesn’t leave much room for creativity. It’s almost impressive, really—managing to be both predictable and wrong in a single sentence.”

Sebastian’s grin faltered for a split second before snapping back into place, though the glint in his eyes turned sharp, like he’d just found a new game to play. “I'm just saying, adjusting to a new school at the last minute must be overwhelming,” he said smoothly, his tone dripping with condescension. “Let’s see if the Sorting Hat can find somewhere for you to fit.”

Imelda groaned audibly, throwing her head back. “Shut up, Sebastian.”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “What? Don’t you think it’s my duty to give her a proper Hogwarts welcome?”

“Your definition of ‘proper’ is questionable,” Grace muttered, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

“Is it?” Sebastian replied, his grin unwavering. “I think I’ve made quite the impression.”

“Yeah,” you said evenly. “Just not the one you think.”

He shrugged. “Well, it’s better to stand out than to blend in, don’t you think?”

“Oh, you stand out, alright,” you replied, your tone sharp.

Sebastian’s eyes swept over you again, sharp and calculating, before his expression turned mock-thoughtful once more.

"Well, I'm certainly not the only one," he said smoothly, his tone laced with something you couldn’t quite place but knew you didn’t like. “I mean, you’re kinda hard to miss. But, uh…” He tilted his head slightly, the smirk creeping back onto his lips. “Just a bit of advice, since I’m feeling generous,” he drawled. “The food here is great—buffet-style, really—but, you know… moderation. It’s worth considering.”

The words hit like a slap, sharp and deliberate, leaving the table in stunned silence and feeding into an insecurity you’d carried for as long as you could remember. You’d always been bigger—bigger than the other girls at Beauxbatons, bigger than most people thought you “should” be. It was something people seemed to notice before they noticed you. Your size came first, and everything else about you—your thoughts, your talents, your personality—became secondary, if they even mattered at all.

You’d worked hard not to let it define you, not to let the looks and whispers get under your skin. But in moments like this, when someone threw it in your face with a smug grin, it was impossible not to feel the sting. For a brief moment, the familiar ache threatened to creep in, whispering that you’d never belong here, or anywhere. That you’d always be the odd one out. That you’d never be good enough.

But you weren’t about to let him see that.

Before you could respond, though, Imelda was already snapping. “What the fuck? Do you ever stop to think before you open your mouth?"

“That was completely uncalled for,” Ominis cut in sharply, his voice cracking like a whip.

Nerida let out a derisive snort. “You’ve said some idiotic things before, but this is a new low,” she said, staring at him as though he’d sprouted a third head.

Sebastian glanced around, clearly taken aback by the backlash, though he quickly masked it with an exaggerated shrug. “What? I was just joking,” he said. “Don’t get your wands in a knot.”

“Truly, what an innovative personality you’ve cultivated. So original,” you said suddenly, your voice cutting through the tension at the table. The group turned to you, startled by the calm sharpness in your tone. “I know your kind. It’s always the same with guys like you."

That seemed to catch him off guard. His smirk faltered, confusion flashing in his eyes. “My kind?” he repeated.

You tilted your head, keeping your expression steady despite the thunderous rhythm of your heart. You told yourself you shouldn’t stoop to his level, shouldn’t let him get under your skin, but the words tumbled out before you could stop them, sharp and precise.

“Yeah. The student athlete heartthrob who thinks being a prick is endearing. The guy who throws around shitty comments thinking it makes him clever or edgy. If it wasn’t already abundantly obvious, let me make it clear: it doesn’t. It just makes you predictable and pathetic.”

Sebastian blinked, clearly trying to process your words. His smirk slipped further, replaced by something closer to genuine surprise. For a moment, it seemed as though he was searching for a retort, but nothing came.

Grace stifled a giggle behind her hand, while Nerida openly grinned, her eyes darting between you and Sebastian like she was watching an impromptu Quidditch match. Even Ominis let a faint smirk tug at his lips.

You leaned back in your seat, arms crossed in mock lamentation, your gaze pinned firmly on Sebastian. “What’s this? Quiet, all of a sudden?” you said, your voice saccharine and laced with venom. “Oh, don’t stop now, Sebastian. Please, enlighten me with more of your cutting wit. I’m positively desperate to hear what else you think qualifies as clever banter.”

For a fleeting second, Sebastian hesitated. Then he shook his head, his grin creeping back, though it was smaller now, almost reluctant. “You’ve got a sharp tongue, I’ll give you that.”

“And you’ve got a wardrobe full of pretense and exactly zero originality,” you shot back without missing a beat, your eyes flicking deliberately to his faded band shirt.

You were well aware of the hypocrisy in your words even as you spoke them. Merlin knew you had a drawer full of band shirts yourself, a rotating collection of your favorite oversized tees that served as both a badge of honor and a comfortable fallback. You weren’t the gatekeeping type—far from it. But Sebastian Sallow wasn’t the first guy like this you’d encountered, and experience had taught you exactly where to aim to knock someone like him down a peg.

Sebastian blinked, momentarily thrown. “Excuse me?”

You tilted your head, feigning contemplation, your voice calm but laced with razor-edged sarcasm. “Let me guess—you picked up that Smiths shirt at a thrift shop because you thought it would make you look deep and brooding and intellectual. What’s next? Are you going to quote How Soon Is Now? at me and call it a personality? Because I’ve met that guy before, and trust me—you’re not breaking new ground.”

The stunned silence that followed was palpable. Sebastian stared at you, his smirk wiped clean from his face, replaced by a blank expression that was almost unnerving in its stillness. For a fleeting moment, you couldn’t tell if he was about to laugh, get angry, or fire back with something equally cutting. But he didn’t say a word.

The others, however, were less restrained. Imelda cackled, slapping the table with her palm as she leaned back in her seat. “Told you to shut up while you were still ahead, Sallow. Chouette's not a push-over."

Grace covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, while Nerida didn’t even bother hiding her amusement. “Honestly, it’s about time someone put him in his place,” Nerida said, grinning as she glanced between you and Sebastian.

Sebastian blinked, whatever fire he’d had earlier extinguished. His sharp brown eyes lingered on you, something unreadable flickering behind them—a spark of surprise? Annoyance?—but whatever it was vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He forced a shrug, the motion stiff and hollow, and leaned back in his seat with an air of practiced nonchalance that didn’t quite land. His bruised ego hung in the air like smoke.

Not that it mattered.

Before anything more could be said, the noise in the Great Hall suddenly hushed. You glanced toward the front of the room to see Headmaster Black standing by the Sorting Hat, his expression a mix of irritation and boredom. He raised his hands, gesturing for quiet, though his sour demeanor seemed to imply he didn’t expect much from the room.

“Let’s get on with it, shall we?” he drawled, his voice carrying across the hall. “The Sorting Ceremony will now begin.”

Your stomach twisted as Professor Weasley stepped forward with the list of names, her warm smile doing little to calm your nerves. She called the first name, and your heart sank when it was yours.

Imelda gave you an encouraging nudge. “Go on,” she said with a grin.

You swallowed hard and stood, your legs carrying you toward the front of the hall almost on autopilot. The weight of hundreds of eyes on you was suffocating, and you felt your face flush as you approached the Sorting Hat. You could hear faint whispers ripple through the crowd as students speculated about the new girl, but you forced yourself to ignore them.

The hat was placed on your head, and the world around you seemed to disappear as its voice filled your mind.

“Ah, a Seventh Year, eh? Interesting. Very interesting indeed. Let’s see what we have here...”

You swallowed hard. Is it always this dramatic? you thought, the sarcasm slipping out before you could stop it.

The hat chuckled. “A sharp tongue, I see. And wit to match. You’re clever—no doubt about that. Ravenclaw would suit you well. But there’s more… bravery, certainly... A strong sense of justice. Gryffindor might fit…”

You held your breath, waiting as the hat’s musings trailed off.

“But no,” the hat said, its tone turning thoughtful. “There’s ambition here—strong ambition. And a determination too. Hmm… tricky, very tricky…”

You could feel the weight of the decision hanging in the air, the hat’s hesitation palpable. But then the hat made a self satisfied "Ah!" and before you knew it, the hat's voice was booming through the hall.

“Slytherin!”

You froze for a moment and the world came rushing back into focus. Applause erupted from the Slytherin table, led enthusiastically by Imelda, though you couldn’t quite shake the knot in your stomach as you made your way back toward them… because you’d be stuck with Sebastian Sallow all year.

“Well, welcome to the den of snakes,” Imelda cheered as you approached. “Don’t worry, you already fit right in.”

You glanced across the table and found Ominis watching you with a faint smile. “Congratulations and welcome,” he said softly. “The hat made the right choice.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, though the words felt hollow. Your gaze flickered to Sebastian, who lounged in his seat with an expression that could only be described as... confused. His eyes met yours briefly, and you simply cocked an eyebrow, letting the gesture speak for itself.

Imelda caught the exchange and snickered, leaning closer to you. “Merlin’s beard, you’ve got him rattled,” she said in a low voice, her tone somewhere between impressed and amused. “That’s new."

“Is he always like this?” you asked under your breath, your gaze flickering back to Sebastian for a moment before returning to Imelda.

“Unfortunately,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. "But don’t let him get to you. He’s a prat most of the time, but he grows on you. Like a stubborn rash.”

“High praise,” you muttered, "Je pense que je vais garder mes distances."

Imelda snorted at your muttered French, clearly understanding enough to catch your drift. “Good luck with that,” she said dryly, her smirk widening. “Sebastian has a way of worming into everyone’s business whether they want him there or not.”

“Sounds delightful,” you replied, your tone flat.

As the sorting continued, you allowed yourself a moment to appreciate the scene around you. Despite everything—the nerves, the awkwardness of being the new girl, and Sebastian’s infuriating attitude—Hogwarts certainly had a charm of its own. The way the candlelight flickered off the long tables, the enchanted ceiling reflecting the night sky above, and the palpable energy of students eager for the start of a new term—it all felt alive in a way Beauxbatons never had.

"Grace, look at that one," Nerida whispered excitedly, nudging Grace as another small first-year stumbled nervously toward the hat.

“Poor thing looks terrified,” Grace whispered back with a smile. “Reminds me of my own sorting.”

You smiled faintly at their banter, but a small, persistent voice in the back of your mind kept reminding you that you were still an outsider. Everyone around you had years of shared experiences, stories, and inside jokes that you couldn’t hope to understand or fit into overnight.

As the Sorting Ceremony neared its conclusion, the steady stream of nervous first-years dwindled until only one remained—a wide-eyed boy who looked moments away from fainting. The Sorting Hat barely touched his head before bellowing, "Hufflepuff!" A cheer erupted from the Hufflepuff table as the boy scurried to his seat.

Headmaster Black rose languidly from his chair at the staff table, his expression a blend of boredom and mild irritation, as if the entire evening had been an inconvenience. He waved a dismissive hand toward the hall, his voice carrying effortlessly over the chatter.

“Well, now that we’ve gotten that tiresome ordeal out of the way,” he drawled, his tone dripping with condescension, “you may enjoy your feast.”

The platters of food on the tables filled instantly with a mouth-watering array of dishes: roasted meats, golden potatoes, steaming vegetables, and fragrant pies. The smell alone was enough to make your stomach rumble.

Imelda grinned at you. “Now you’re getting the Hogwarts experience,” she said. “Trust me, the food here is one of the few things that’ll never let you down.”

You chuckled softly at Imelda’s remark, but her encouragement did little to silence the unwelcome echo of Sebastian’s earlier comment in your mind. “Moderation. It’s worth considering.” The words clung to you like a stubborn burr, sharp and biting.

Swallowing hard, you opted for a small portion: a single piece of roast chicken, a scoop of potatoes, and a few vegetables. The rich aromas wafted around you, but the knot in your stomach dulled your appetite.

Imelda didn’t seem to notice as she busied herself loading her own plate. Across the table, Nerida and Grace were deep in animated conversation about summer holidays, their voices blending into the lively chatter of the Great Hall. You focused on their words, nodding occasionally, but contributed little. It was easier to listen, to let their easy camaraderie wash over you while you quietly tried to find your footing.

Sebastian, at some point, returned to being the center of attention. He leaned casually on the table, his earlier smugness replaced with a more agreeable charm. He was laughing and gesturing animatedly as he recounted some story that had them all chuckling. The warmth in his tone was strikingly different from the sharp-edged comments he’d aimed at you earlier.

“Seems like he’s in a better mood now,” you muttered under your breath.

Imelda scoffed. “For now. Just wait until you see him on the Quidditch pitch.”

The mention of Quidditch piqued your interest, but before you could ask, Sebastian’s voice carried across the table, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Oi, Ominis,” he said, “What’s the over-under on me dragging you out to a practice this year? Still terrified of flying?”

Ominis, who had been quietly enjoying his meal, sighed deeply, setting down his fork with deliberate patience. “I’m not terrified,” he replied, his tone flat. “I simply prefer not to hurl myself into the sky on a broomstick, especially when there’s a perfectly good ground to stand on.”

Sebastian leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms with exaggerated amusement. “Oh, come on. A little adrenaline never hurt anyone.”

“Except for the countless people who’ve fallen off their brooms,” Ominis shot back dryly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Like you."

Laughter rippled across the table, and you couldn’t help the faint tug of a smile at their banter. Sebastian’s teasing tone was lighter now, his words less pointed and more playful. It was clear this version of him—the one laughing easily with his friends—was the one they all knew and tolerated, even enjoyed.

But for you, the memory of his earlier barbs was too fresh, his easy charm only serving to deepen your irritation. You’d seen this type before: the golden boy who could say whatever he wanted and still be adored by everyone around him. He was the center of the group’s attention now, weaving through conversations with an effortless charisma that left you feeling even more like an outsider.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Ominis remarked eventually, his soft voice cutting through your thoughts. His pale gaze was turned in your direction, steady and unassuming. “Are we overwhelming you already?”

You managed a small smile. “No, not at all. Just... taking it all in.”

Ominis inclined his head slightly, his expression thoughtful. “Understandable. But I’ve no doubt you’ll settle in quickly.”

“Thanks,” you said, your tone genuine. Of all the people you’d met so far, Ominis seemed the most sincere, his calm presence a stark contrast to the chaos of the evening.

Imelda, catching the tail end of your exchange, grinned as she elbowed you lightly. “See? I told you. You’ll fit right in.”

You nodded, though the weight of the evening still sat heavy on your shoulders. You glanced back across the table, catching a fleeting look from Sebastian before he quickly returned his attention to his friends. For a moment, you wondered if he was deliberately ignoring you or if he simply didn’t care.

Either way, you decided, it didn’t matter. You weren’t here to impress him.

Steeling yourself, you took a small bite of the potatoes and focused on the warmth of the Great Hall around you. It might not feel like home just yet, but it was a start.