#ask ⋗ questions yet unanswered

[subvertreality]

tag drop.

[unrelatabledude]

hehe its okay to use my ask as a springboard i don't mind!!! i've seen your art in the himeru tag for awhile and only just now got around to following you bc i'm not on tumblr a lot jsndfgsjkd i thought, "wow i'd really like to talk to this person bc this person has so many fun ideas about my blorbo" so i wanted to lyk!!!! i'm glad my message found you well :D

always always!! I'm so happy to hear from literally anyone about anythingbut esp himeru. youre always welcome to chat to me about literally anything just know i am. rather chattery!!!

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ million dollar man ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ cho sang-woo x girlfriend!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! this story takes place in an alternate ending for squid game where sang-woo wins instead of gi-hun! 🤍

˚ ༘♡ it had been over two weeks since you last heard from cho sang-woo. no calls, no texts, not even the smallest acknowledgment of your existence. the silence weighed on you, growing heavier with every passing day. sang-woo, your long-term boyfriend, the man you had imagined spending the rest of your life with, had seemingly vanished without explanation.

˚ ༘♡ he was everything you had dreamed of, handsome, intelligent, educated. in your eyes, he was near perfect. you had moved to south korea a year and a half ago. the two of you met only a month after your arrival in seoul. you were standing at a convenience store counter, struggling to buy an iced coffee before work. the cashier’s words blurred into a language barrier you couldn’t break through, leaving you flustered and embarrassed.

˚ ༘♡ then there he was. cho sang-woo, with his neatly pressed suit and square-rimmed glasses, stepping in to translate with a calm assurance that immediately put you at ease. he went further and insisted on paying for your coffee, brushing off your protests with a polite smile. “you can pay me back with your number,” he had said, his tone light but his warm gaze unwavering. you gave it to him without hesitation, your heart racing as he walked away with a casual, confident stride that lingered in your mind for days.

˚ ༘♡ what followed was akin to a fantasy. your first few dates were sweet and unassuming, dinners at cozy restaurants, walks through bustling markets, late-night phone calls that stretched into the early hours of the morning. before long, it became more than casual. he wasn’t simply a charming man in a suit, he was someone you trusted, someone you leaned on. yet, as your relationship deepened, so did the flaws.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo treated you well in many ways. he insisted on paying for meals, even when you protested. he offered to help with rent when he noticed you were stressed about expenses. his job at joy investments afforded him a lifestyle of financial stability, one that he willingly extended to you. however, beneath his polished exterior, there was an undeniable distance.

˚ ༘♡ it started small, little things that nagged at you but seemed too insignificant to bring up. his phone was always locked, the screen flashing dark whenever you glanced at it. he would leave suddenly, without warning, offering only vague explanations that never quite satisfied your curiosity. “work,” he would say, brushing off your questions as though they were irrelevant. and no matter how many times you pressed him for the truth, he never admitted anything.

˚ ༘♡ those moments of secrecy chipped away at your trust, leaving an uneasy ache in your chest. you told yourself it was nothing, that you were overthinking. but the fights that erupted when you brought it up told a different story. his calm facade would crack, and he would grow defensive, his words sharp and cutting. “don’t you trust me?” he had asked more than once, the accusation in his tone a slap in the face.

˚ ༘♡ despite the arguments, despite the unanswered questions, you loved him. you loved the way he smoothed a hand down your back when you were upset, the way his voice softened when he called you by name. you loved the rare instances of vulnerability he let slip, the heartfelt glimpses of the man beneath the polished exterior. you loved him enough to forgive, enough to overlook the secrets that cast shadows over your relationship.

˚ ༘♡ as you sat alone in your apartment, staring at your phone with an empty inbox mocking your worry. two weeks of silence was unbearable. the man you loved, the one who had promised to protect you, had left you with nothing but questions and a ache where his presence used to be.

˚ ༘♡ the doorbell rang, cutting through the quiet of your apartment as though it were a sharp blade. it wasn’t merely unusual, it was unsettling. who would come at this hour? you glanced at the clock on the wall, its glowing numbers reminding you that it was well past midnight. your stomach churned uneasily as you stood up, your fatigue from a long shift at the café clinging to you.

˚ ༘♡ working from sunrise to sunset every day had worn you thin, but you had refused sang-woo’s offers to help you financially. he had already done so much, given so generously, and the thought of taking more was crossing a line you couldn’t bring yourself to breach. it would be an abuse of his kindness.

˚ ༘♡ the hallway was dark as you approached the door, your bare feet silent on the cool floor. you hesitated before unlocking it, your hand hovering over the latch. “hello?” you called out cautiously as you cracked it open, peering into the dimly lit corridor.

˚ ༘♡ before you could register what was happening, a hard shove sent the door crashing into you, knocking you backward. you stumbled, barely managing to catch yourself against the wall. your heart leapt into your throat as the figure who had forced their way inside quickly shut the door behind them.

˚ ༘♡ your confusion turned to disbelief as the light from your apartment fell on their face. it was sang-woo.

˚ ༘♡ his chest heaved with each labored breath, his shirt wrinkled and unbuttoned at the collar, his dress pants scuffed and slightly torn. his glasses, the ones you always teased him about for making him look too serious, were nowhere to be seen. instead, his face bore the evidence of recent hardships, bruises, faint scars, and scabbed-over cuts that marred his formerly pristine appearance. even his hands, the ones you’d grown so used to seeing holding a pen or a glass of wine, were scratched and battered.

˚ ༘♡ he looked like he had aged years in the short time he had been gone.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo,” you stammered, your voice unsteady with equal parts confusion and fear, “what the hell are you doing? it’s the middle of the night, and… why haven’t you been answering my calls?”

˚ ༘♡ he opened his mouth as if to respond, but the words didn’t come immediately. instead, he leaned against the door, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “i…” he started, his voice hoarse and raw, but he seemed unable to finish.

˚ ༘♡ without warning, he crossed the room in a single stride and pulled you into a tight embrace. his arms wrapped around you with a desperation that felt almost suffocating, his head burying into the crook of your neck as he clung to you.

˚ ༘♡ you stood unmoving, the shock of his sudden appearance warring with the affection of his touch. part of you was relieved beyond words to have him back, while another part was angry. angry at his disappearance, at the unanswered calls and texts, at the fear and doubt he had left you to wrestle with.

˚ ༘♡ “i missed you,” he murmured against your shoulder, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

˚ ༘♡ his words tugged at your heart, but they weren’t enough to quell the storm of questions brewing inside you. “sang-woo,” you said, your voice softer now but still laced with frustration, “what’s going on? where have you been? what happened to you?”

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t answer right away, his grip tightening, as though the very act of holding onto you could keep him grounded. his breath was unstable, his chest rising and falling against yours in a way that betrayed the turmoil beneath his silence. the room felt oppressively quiet.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo!” you exclaimed, your voice sharp, desperate for clarity. the sound seemed to jolt him, his body stiffening before he reluctantly pulled back.

˚ ༘♡ his hands were shaking as he reached into his pocket, the movement clumsy and hurried. when he withdrew, he thrust a thick stack of cash into your arms, one hundred million won, neatly bound and unnervingly out of place in your modest apartment. the weight of the money startled you, as you stared at the crisp bills in disbelief.

˚ ༘♡ “listen to me,” he said, his voice shaking but steadfast. “after this, after i take care of everything, i’ll buy us a beautiful home. somewhere quiet, somewhere safe. hold onto this for now.”

˚ ༘♡ you blinked at him, your mind struggling to process the sudden shift, the money heavy in your grasp. “sang-woo,” you said, your tone rising with vexation and confusion, “where did you get this money?”

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t answer, his eyes avoiding yours, and that only fueled your frustration. “tell me!” you demanded. “where have you been? do you have any idea what I’ve been through? i thought you left me for another woman or fled the country!”

˚ ༘♡ his jaw clenched, his expression fading as guilt flashed across his face, but he said nothing.

˚ ༘♡ you pressed further, your voice strained with a mix of hurt and fury. “i talked to your mother. she said you haven’t called her in ages! i went to your work. they haven’t seen you in weeks! your friends? same thing. no one knows where you’ve been!” your hands tightened around the cash, your knuckles white as your chest heaved with the distress of your tone. “how could you do this to me? how could you leave without a word, without an explanation?”

˚ ༘♡ his silence hurt more than any words could have. he looked at you, his expression a painful mix of regret and something darker, something you couldn’t place. his lips parted as if to speak, but he hesitated, the words caught somewhere between his chest and his throat.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo,” you whispered, your voice trembling as tears began to sting your eyes. “please. i need to understand.”

˚ ༘♡ “i’ll tell you everything soon, i promise, sweetheart,” sang-woo murmured, his voice unsteady, as if it pained him to speak. his hand, calloused and trembling, reached out to rest gently on your cheek, his touch delicate. your heart ached as you met his gaze, those dark, exhausted eyes glistening with unshed tears. it was a look so raw, so unfamiliar.

˚ ༘♡ “you have to trust me,” he said, his tone soft but pleading. “you have to listen to me. i’ve already given you what you need to cover your expenses.” his hand lingered against your cheek for a monthly moment before falling away, his fingers curling into a fist at his side. “i have urgent legal and business matters to deal with, but once they’re resolved… we’ll have the life we’ve dreamed of. everything we’ve talked about.”

˚ ༘♡ his lips brushed against your forehead, the kiss light but filled with a quiet desperation that made your chest tighten. “nothing could ever keep me from you,” he breathed, the words barely audible. “promise me you’ll do as i ask.”

˚ ༘♡ everything about this felt wrong, the way he avoided your questions, the haunting exhaustion in his voice, the bruises that lined his hands and face. you wanted answers. you wanted to demand he tell you everything right then and there, but the way he looked at you, so broken, so unlike the composed sang-woo you knew, kept you from saying anymore.

˚ ༘♡ uncertainty clouded your mind, nonetheless you nodded, your voice hardly above a whisper. “i promise.”

˚ ༘♡ his shoulders sagged slightly at your answer, the tension in his body loosening, though not entirely disappearing. “good,” he said softly, almost to himself. he was still nervous, his eyes darting toward the door as though expecting someone to burst through at any moment.

˚ ༘♡ “i have to go,” he said, his voice tinged with reluctance. “but i’ll come back. i swear, okay?”

˚ ༘♡ “okay,” you replied, unsure but unwilling to push him further.

˚ ༘♡ he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a fleeting, tender kiss that left you yearning for answers. then, without another word, he turned and left the apartment, closing the door behind him.

˚ ༘♡ you stood there, the silence of his absence pressing down on you, dread engulfed your thoughts. your mind churned with questions, with doubts, but one thing was certain, you were relieved, no matter how strange the circumstances of his return, to have seen sang-woo again. the agonizing ache in your chest told you that his departure had left you with far more questions than answers.

a/n: my first sang-woo fanfiction!! is it controversial for me to say i love his character and he’s my favorite one in squid game? please let me know if you have any requests! 🤍

[blackberry-sage-tea]

"The Dalish gifted an Eluvian to the Grey Wardens so we can get in Weisshaupt" is just so emblematic of my problems with the game, because you can tell--it feels to me--that the thought process was "We need to have an Eluvian in Weisshaupt, Eluvians are an Elven(TM) thing, the Dalish are the Elven(TM) faction, so let's just say they were the ones who gave one to the Grey Wardens".

The Dalish have been established over all three games as a people who have spent the last thousands of years desperately scrounging for whatever scraps of their culture they can find, a struggle that has cost them dearly as typified by Merrill's plight trying to restore a single Eluvian which had previously Blighted two of her clan mates (an Eluvian that she can't open or use, and doesn't actually know what it's for by the end of her quest line). Multiple Dalish in Inquisition are killed trying to regain their history ("The Knight's Tomb") or trying to prove themselves by regaining even a talisman related to their culture ("Someone to Lose"). They are an insular and guarded people because outsider interactions frequently invoke a heavy toll in Dalish lives, up to and including entire clans. And yet, we are supposed to believe in a single throwaway piece of dialogue that in the 10 years between Inquisition and Veilguard, the Dalish have (offscreen) gained enough access to Eluvians as a piece of technology that they can afford to just "gift" one to the Grey Wardens without explanation.

There are constant revelations of this kind where pre-established parts of the lore are just thrown out the window. Things that had great emotional weight or impact in previous installments of the series are used for cheap thrills or plot-hole fills without explanation, justification, or even gravitas from the game. You have a moment in one of Emmrich's quests where you stumble through a portal directly into the Fade that Hezenkoss opened in Blackthorne manor, and you're tasked with closing it again. All of this is done entirely without the Anchor or even an implied blood sacrificial ritual, and it is never commented as anything particularly groundbreaking (when going into the Fade physically through tearing a hole in it was a Big Fucking Deal in Inquisition). You encounter a Compassion spirit in a side quest investigating the deaths of citizens in Tevinter who were murdered by a demon of Despair, and it is strong enough to not only retain itself through sensing the (unanswered!) suffering that these people experienced, but it also resolves to protect others to keep them from the same fate (when Cole was so traumatized by a single person's death that he completely reshaped his entire being around them). So on and so forth. Don't even get me started on Bellara's comment that the ancient elves "made most of their buildings in the Fade".

I'm not asking for someone to hold my hand and spoonfeed me information. I frankly don't care if an obscure codex entry, a reddit AMA question, bluesky tweet, or headcanon exists somewhere to patch in or bandaid over all of the jarring details like this, because it doesn't change the fact that the game itself should be doing this. The game itself should be taking the time to explain this in a way that is not missable, the game itself should be taking these things seriously, it should recognize when it is doing contradictory things and rush to justify itself accordingly, because these are things the emotional beats of previous stories hinged on. Like, when the game has Taash say a line like "The Qun isn't a prison, you can leave if you want", it's the responsibility of the writers to show that this is Taash being misinformed, not because I'm too stupid to headcanon that this is the case, but because this line is a symptom of how the entire game's writing seems to have forgotten about the Ben-Hassrath as a thing that exists in this setting.

Previous Dragon Age games are no stranger to "We quietly removed Solas' network of agents and spies offscreen"-style writing, but it usually didn't feel like a constant deluge periodically uprooting my emotional investment and immersion. There's only so much I can take in good faith before I realize that this game was just not written with any care towards ensuring that the worldbuilding made sense and felt right to the player, leading to awkward backpedaling in reddit threads like "no the Crows haven't changed as an organization, these are just the unique Good Crows and we forgot to mention it".

I just can't look past this shit anymore.

[mixingandmelting]

Give Life Another Chance

Summary: He had always had your back when he was Robin. He'll always have your back even as an Outlaw

Word: 3.9k

A/N: Finally did Jason's version of childhood friend to lover trope! *Also part of Winter Series: Day 5

Soft, black curls and a smile that could win the hearts of millions- there were so many good points you probably should’ve noticed first. But having been kicked out of the orphanage again and preoccupied to find a safe place to sleep on the streets for the night, your mind was slow to process that you were just saved from being jumped by Robin. So, your brain chose to point something else out as it registered.  Like how haughty he was being with both hands on his hips and an eyebrow raised as he had asked why a kid like you was out in the street this late. 

“You’re short.” 

“…Seriously? Instead of a thanks you tell me I’m short?” 

You were going to ask him if he had any plans on denying what you had just said when one of the thugs on the ground let out a groan. 

“Let’s go!” 

Quickly, boy wonder wrapped an arm around your waist before using the Batarang to pull the two of you up one of the near-by buildings. Surprisingly, you never once let go of him nor scream as he swung from one building to the next. Was it from trust? Survival instincts? You don’t know.  The next few minutes blurred as two teens continued to swing from building to building until he finally landed in front of a 24/7 burger place.

“Wha-where-“

Where did he get the cap he plopped on your head from? When did he change into the hoodie and sweatpants? Your head was spinning from so many unanswered questions that he was practically dragging you into the restaurant with a firm yet gentle grip around your hand. Shuffling you into a booth, he sat across from you and ordered two sets of the same burger meal. 

You both sat there quietly until the food came out. 

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Robin asked, noticing you hadn’t touched your food yet. 

You blankly blinked at him then at the food in front of you. Slowly, you reached for the burger and took a bite. Then another. You take the napkin he offered across the table to wipe your mouth and cheeks from both the food stains and tears while eating. 

By the time you finished, you both were slurping on your soft drinks, stuffed and satisfied.

“Well?” He asked, his eyes behind the domino mask trained on you. 

“… Why?” He must’ve expected you to ask him from the shrug he gave. 

“You looked like you needed it.” 

You looked like you needed it? 

“You were planning to sleep out tonight weren’t you? How were you going to do that on an empty stomach?” 

“I…” You paused for a moment, fiddling with your thumbs. “I’m used to it.”

He didn’t cue you or pressed for answers. It was all on you, spilling everything you’ve gone through from how your parents had abandoned you at age four from being chased by loan sharks to how you were continually being kicked out of each orphanage you enter for accidentally catching the employees embezzling funds meant to maintain the place. 

The one question he did ask was about school. He didn’t pursue further when you told him everyone knew your clothes were from hand-me-downs and the Salvation Army. 

You appreciated how he didn’t offer words of faux sympathy, simply muttering with an “I see”. You were curious what expression he was making though as he had his head turned toward the window and the hoodie pulled over his head blocked your view. 

Once the glasses were emptied, you both headed out. 

“Do you have any friends at your school?” 

You weren’t taken off guard anymore, finding yourself adapted to your current situation. 

“No.”

“Then head to this place. It’s nicer compared to all the others you were placed in.” 

Unexpectedly, an address for somewhere in the nicer neighborhood of Gotham was neatly written on the napkin.

“Yeah, and how am I supposed to get there? Have them let me in? It’s not like I have a social worker or anyone who’ll fill the paperwork for me.” 

“It’ll be fine. Just take the bus and walk there. Once you get there, just give them your name and then, they’ll let you in.” 

It was suspicious to say the least. At the same time, you didn’t have anything to lose.

“Then you have to promise to come visit me tomorrow.” Childishly, you stuck your pinky out at him. “ ‘Cause if you don’t, it’ll be your fault I’m dead.” 

“You aren’t going to die,” he snorted, yet wrapped his pinky around yours. “If anything, it’ll be a step forward to make life a bit better.” 

He was right. Life did get better when you arrived at the written address. With no hesitation despite the time of your arrival being past 1:00 AM, a kind woman welcomed you in and helped get you situated. For a week, you were busy getting used to the new environment where everything and everyone was… well, normal. None of the other kids looked as if they were struggling or waging war for survival. The adults were attentive and fostered healthy maturity. 

It helped that Robin had decided to visit you every night rather than just the next day. Along with checking in that you were okay, he listened to everything you had in your mind. The struggles, the challenges, the confusion from how none of your past experiences could’ve prepared for this big of a change. In a good way of course. 

Too bad the visits became less frequent once you started going to your new school. He mentioned about getting in trouble for not focusing on his patrols the last time. Your disappointment must’ve been evident when he proposed to do the  “pen-pal thing”. Using how you mentioned you’d do anything to thank him on the promised night as an excuse, he apparently had been wanting to do it but didn’t have anyone until you. 

That’s how you ended up leaving your window open ajar every night, having slipped a letter between the slim gap between the sill and the window itself and getting one back the same way, same place.

School on the other hand was eventful. Your only friend was Jason Todd, who, you had to admit, put in a lot of work to get close to you. To be fair, you didn’t expect someone to approach you all friendly on your first day. There were some hiccups along the way, however you guys managed to get through them and became buddies. 

There wasn’t a day you guys weren’t hanging together. Homework was being done at the library, talking about the books you both recently read during lunch. The time you both didn’t talk to each other was during class. Unlike you who sometimes found the drawl on Homo sapiens boring, Jason was soaking in all the knowledge with enthusiasm. You once called him school-freak from how much he loved to learn, being in school and exploring the topics the teachers were going over. He retorted that you were mad you couldn’t beat him in getting a higher grade during the last exam. You simply snatched his book and ran away with it, not appreciating how he was right.

With Robin during the night and Jason during the day, you were brighter and friendlier. Slowly, yet surely, you were found smiling more and approachable. Your schoolmates and teachers warmed up to you, treating you like one of them. You also had a place you could call home temporarily, where you could relax and enjoy the presence of having somewhat of a family.

The serenity and joy you had ended up lasting for two years. Jason suddenly stopped coming to school. Robin hadn’t visited you for a while nor sent you a letter. With Robin, you assumed it was because he was busy fighting criminals alongside Batman. Jason? You got worried about him. You tried to get in touch with him in every possible way you can. You asked the teachers, who were also worried as they didn’t know why he hadn’t been attending. You used the school’s directory book they hand out every year and sent letters to his residence. 

It was when you got the courage and called his home phone you were given the news. It went from shock. Denial. And then devastation. You felt completely ruined. Your eyes were glass and devoid of emotions when you had gone to his grave, dressed in black, holding a bouquet of red roses (he once said in passing that they were his favorite). 

Your one friend you made for the first time in life- you refused to believe he was dead. The news reported it was from an incident related to the Joker, making things much harder from the sheer weight of reality. Especially knowing the survival rate of the victims when the notorious villain was involved. 

You managed to maintain sanity superficially, convincing everyone that you were over it. That you were fine. Never realizing the reason for you to hold on was from the belief that Robin would soon visit you again when he had time or at least take the letters that were growing longer where you switched size of the envelopes multiple times.

Things became complicated when Batman, who hadn’t been seen with Robin for so long, made an appearance with him again. Problem was, the Robin next to the older man wasn’t your Robin. Instead of soft curls, his hair was silky and straight. The costume was different. The way the new Robin smiled wasn’t the same as the other Robin. Your Robin.

During the time Robin wasn’t present, you had thought he was severely injured.  Hence your expression of concern was always written in your letters, even in the midst of your grief. But what if. Just what if- 

You wanted it to be not true so much as you matched dates to events. The day of Jason’s death to around when Robin stopped sending you letters. The day Jason was seen with a cast to the day Robin wasn’t present on a mission. It was a cruel, awful joke played by the fates. Your Robin was Jason Todd. And the people- no, person- you loved with every fiber in your heart was dead. 

Jason, on the other hand, was never really into people back when he was a kid. Helping those in need and bringing justice so those suffering would finally have peace? Of course. He would always do it. Interest in a specific person though? He didn’t until he found you walking out and about in the middle of Park Row. Initially, out of empathy from knowing what it was like living in that awful area of Gotham, he was planning to follow you in the case you decided to get your hand dirty and mess with the wrong nest. He was proven wrong and soon changed his assessment of you to respect when he watched you give candy from your bag into the hands of the little kids hiding in the alley. You weren't being dumb about it either, posing it as if you were threatening contrary to what had actually happened. The longer he followed you, the more he saw how knowledgeable you were, knowing when to pick fights and when to keep your head low to stay out of trouble as you walked through the different alleys.

It made him more curious about you, from how you managed to save an adult man from a beating by tripping the assailant with the cover of his sidekick being the one to kick a nearby can. When he read the information he was able to find about you, he felt bitter. It was one thing to live with a dead-beat dad and a drugged out mom, but it was a whole different situation when having to live out in the street without a roof to cover your head most of the time, trying to get by on your own with no adults. 

He tried to think of something, anything to help you that night, after closing out the files that had been on the monitor in the Batcave. He started out with following you around during patrols and beating up anyone who seemed suspicious or approaching you with ill-intent behind your back. In his spare time, he was figuring out ways to get in a better child-care system considering you were still a minor, just like him. After hearing about his old man sponsoring to open an orphanage in central Gotham, he mustered the courage to put in a favor.

His plan was all set and ready to go once Bruce got involved, all that was left was to get you on board. Lady Luck must’ve been smiling at him when the perfect opportunity arose when he caught sight of some thugs hiding in the alley you were about to pass. That definitely got your attention when the thug that was close to grabbing you by the scruff went down with a thud. 

He never understood that awful and tragic feeling of seeing someone empty until he saw your eyes. Blank and filled with nothing, not even a spark of resentment or rage. He swallowed the lump in his throat, heart burning from the evidence of how the corruption of Gotham claimed another young victim. 

“So, what’s a kid like you roaming the streets at this time?” 

He didn’t mean to sound cocky. He was trying to sound normal, mustering the tiny drop of remaining strength in him to not waver when you looked so broken. Doesn’t mean he was impressed with your jab though. He had been told by Alfred that he was taller than Dick when he was the same age as him for your information. 

As he proceeded to help you get another chance with life, it wasn't part of his plan to become besties, even more so develop feelings for you. Sure, when he approached you as Jason Todd, things didn’t go well at first considering he knew you but you didn’t know him. His civilian self, to be exact. But as he got to know you as both Jason and Robin, he came to know the other side of you. The one with a heart that could encompass the whole world, a mind that had the potential to excel in anything you put your mind into. He constantly worried over the chances of you getting hurt, despite the rough exterior, from being so fragile.

Your letters reflected this as there were times your vulnerability appeared in writing on your thoughts of others. Yes there was hatred and annoyance but always in the last paragraph, you express your desire to understand rather than to exact revenge. You wanted to give them a chance and connect, not resent. 

The day he was captured was the day he wanted to confess to you. Reveal who he was and see if he could have a chance to be in your heart. So when he had come back to the living, he didn’t seek you out. He was scared to find out you had moved on without him. That he was simply left as a fragment of a memory like everyone else. 

You would’ve laughed at the expression he made if you had seen him when he saw you at his grave. He was camping, hoping that Bruce would appear and prove him wrong. To show that he was still loved and in his heart as his son. All he could do was hide his presence behind the giant oak tree, slightly tilting his head out to watch what you were doing. 

He watched your form from behind as you sat down in front of his grave before shuffling and pulling out folded pieces of paper. With his hiding spot not being that far off, he could hear you talking. And he wished he didn’t. A giant block of ice settled to the bottom of his stomach, listening to you read your letters you apparently continued to write to him. Your voice didn’t waver, casual and light as if you were truly talking to him like in the past. 

When you got to what seemed like the end, your voice cracked. Then a sniffle. For a moment, he forgot the anger and hatred he harbored, his knuckles going white from suppressing himself to reaching out and comforting you. It ripped him into pieces from the sorrow and wretch you were emitting, sobbing and whimpering why he couldn’t have told you sooner. Why he left without letting you say your final farewells. How you wanted him back.

You get interrupted and quickly forced to wipe your tears when your phone rung. 

“This is Officer-“ 

He stopped breathing. Out of all things, you became a police officer. The hope to meet and rekindle with you was completely crushed, his status not at all glamorous or society acceptable at the moment. When he heard ruffling, he came back to reality. He could feel his eyes well-up as he watched you place a familiar bouquet of flowers on his grave before getting up and leaving. 

Once you were gone, he walked over and picked the bouquet up delicately. For the first time since his revival, he was grieving for someone other than him, someone he still loves. Ironically, he wished that you were the one to have forgotten about him. Not being haunted and distraught as if you were watching him die over and over. 

Maybe it was then he developed the motivation to change, to leave and let go of emotions he had been holding up to then. Eventually, he had gone from working to dominate the underground businesses to getting rid of them. And whenever he had spare time, he’d have your back and make sure no one was going after you. It wasn’t just criminals he would take down who were planning to attack you and your group when on the field, he had also aimed at any corrupted officers that were going to use you as their scape-goat. 

Sure he had gone on adventures as he progressively turned over a new leaf, yet you were and still always his priority. Back when he was Robin and now, as Red Hood the outlaw. As time passed, he could see you healing. Your smiles more genuine. A glow in your skin. Your visits to him every week being more peaceful. 

He didn’t think nor entertain the idea of ever meeting you again. How could he when it’ll break you to find out he’s been alive, again, for so long?

So imagine his surprise when he arrives at the manor for the traditional Wayne Christmas party, finding you standing under the ridiculously large tree in the equally ridiculously large living room. 

The disgruntled expression gets replaced with shock for Jason as yours morphs into disbelief. 

“Ja..son…?”

Six feet, a body packed with muscles and scars, not to mention the infamous brown, leather jacket. Dick really wasn’t kidding during the time you helped hide him and the other vigilantes during the anti-hero hunt led by Amanda Waller when he had revealed that Jason Todd was actually alive after hearing from you how you knew the other, both as the former Robin and civilian. It makes you sick in the stomach of how much the person you loved once known as Mr. Sunshine went through for all the pure, unadulterated positivity and radiant optimism to be stripped away from him, leaving only hardship, fatigue, and harshness when hearing what he had gone through before and after his death. He didn’t deserve such cruelty, not when he was trying to pull the weight of the effort society refused to put in to make life better when he was a tiny teen. 

What you do next is risky. It may cause you to lose everything the two of you once had even. But how could you have him stand in front of the double-oak doors alone with eyes exposing his vulnerable and fragile heart. 

The questions he wants to ask, the actions he wants to take, they all are swallowed down when he’s pulled into a hug. It’s then he notices how much smaller you are compared to him. Your arms that once used to completely wrap around his shoulders can barely wrap around his torso. Your frame, frail as you tremble and leave tears on his thin, cotton shirt. 

He doesn’t need Dick’s motions or Tim’s mouthing to know what to do. Careful to crush you, he leans into you. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you I was back.”

It’s the greatest Christmas gift life has ever given the two of you when you awkwardly nod in response to his words, no intentions of letting him go from fear he’d disappear on you again. And the sentiment is shared when he squeezes you closer to himself, a smile that was lost for a while reappearing and making those around feel the joy of the holiday miracle.

[moonlightwritingf1]

Worthy of You | LN4

❄️ summary ━━━━━━━ Lando rented a cabin in France for Christmas but couldn’t enjoy it when Y/N suddenly left. Desperate, he flew back to England, where she admitted overhearing his doubts about being worthy of her. Lando confessed his love, and Y/N revealed she felt the same but feared rejection.

❄️ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

❄️ word count ━━━━━━━ 4k

The cabin was nothing short of breathtaking. Nestled in the heart of the French Alps, it seemed straight out of a holiday movie—a sprawling chalet with rustic charm. The exterior was draped in a blanket of snow, the wooden beams of the house warmly contrasting the wintery landscape. Snow-dusted balconies framed sweeping views of the towering peaks outside, their jagged lines stark against the pale sky. Inside, the atmosphere was nothing less than luxurious: vaulted ceilings with exposed timber, a massive stone fireplace crackling with warmth, and furniture covered in soft faux fur throws. Twinkling fairy lights danced around the banisters, casting a soft glow, while the scent of fresh pine from the enormous Christmas tree filled the air, welcoming everyone into its festive embrace.

Lando had rented the cabin for the week leading up to Christmas, hoping to host a cozy retreat for his closest friends. It was supposed to be the perfect escape—a time to unwind, relax, and create new memories. But as he stood in the living room, with the warmth of the fire behind him and an unshakable emptiness in his chest, he felt anything but at ease.

Pacing back and forth, phone in hand, Lando’s jaw was tight with frustration. Y/N had left earlier that day, telling him that she needed to return to London for some "urgent" matter. The words didn’t sit right with him. Something was off, and he couldn’t quite shake the nagging feeling that she was hiding the real reason.

"She just... left," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his messy curls.

"You’re going to wear a hole in the floor," Max commented from the couch, watching Lando with an amused, yet concerned, expression.

Lando didn’t respond, his eyes glued to his phone. He had already called Y/N three times and sent two messages, all without any reply. Max raised an eyebrow, leaning against the kitchen counter with a beer in hand.

"Still no word from her?" Max asked.

Lando shook his head, glancing at the phone in his hand as if it might magically ring with her name. "No. Nothing. She just said she had to leave and that was it."

Max frowned, clearly puzzled. "That doesn’t sound like her."

"Exactly," Lando agreed, frustration lacing his voice. "She was fine this morning—excited, helping decorate the tree and everything. Then out of nowhere, she says she has to go. It’s like she couldn’t wait to leave." He tossed his phone onto the coffee table with a huff, running a hand through his curls again.

Max shrugged, his expression neutral. "Maybe you should wait until she gets back to you instead of spiraling. She’s probably just busy."

But Lando wasn’t convinced. "I can’t wait. Something’s wrong. She looked at me before she left—like there was something she wanted to say but couldn’t. It’s not like her to just leave like that."

Max raised a brow, offering a pointed look. "You sure you didn’t say or do something to upset her?"

Lando scowled, shaking his head. "I didn’t even get a chance to talk to her. One minute everything’s fine, and the next... she’s gone."

Max didn’t press further. Instead, he simply sighed. "Well, maybe give her space. She’ll reach out when she’s ready."

But Lando couldn’t do that. He needed answers now. Without another word, he slipped out of the kitchen and onto the balcony, the chill of the evening air biting at his skin despite his thick coat. Leaning against the railing, he gazed out at the snow-covered mountains, his mind racing with unanswered questions. Y/N had been acting strange lately—distant, quieter than usual. The sudden departure was the final straw. Something didn’t add up.

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, Y/N sat alone in her London flat, the flickering lights from her modest Christmas tree casting a soft, warm glow in the otherwise quiet room. Outside, the city streets were slick with rain, the muted sounds of traffic filling the silence. Her fingers curled around a steaming mug of tea, but she barely noticed the warmth.

Her phone sat on the coffee table, buzzing intermittently with Lando’s name lighting up the screen. Each time, her heart clenched, and each time, she couldn’t bring herself to pick it up.

She sipped her tea, trying to quiet the storm in her mind, but the memory of that morning wouldn’t leave her. She had been standing in the hallway of the cabin, a box of ornaments in her arms, when she overheard Lando and Max talking in the living room. The words they spoke felt like a punch to her gut.

"I don’t know what to do, mate," Lando’s voice was low, tense.

"What are you talking about?" Max had asked, clearly confused.

"It’s Y/N," Lando admitted, and hearing her name made Y/N freeze, her breath catching in her throat.

"What about her?"

Lando sighed deeply, and Y/N could almost hear the weight of his thoughts. "I care about her more than I should. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. But I can’t tell her. She’d probably just laugh in my face or—worse—pity me."

Y/N’s heart twisted painfully in her chest.

"You really think she’d react like that?" Max asked, his voice skeptical.

‘’Wouldn’t you?" Lando responded bitterly. "She's amazing, Max. She deserves someone who's not... me. Someone who doesn’t come with all the problems of my life. I don’t know... it’s just complicated.’’

Y/N couldn’t bear it anymore. Hearing Lando doubt himself, and by extension, their connection, had hurt her more than she could explain. She dropped the box of ornaments where it stood and rushed to her room to pack her things, not bothering to tell anyone why she was leaving.

Now, in the solitude of her flat, Y/N replayed his words over and over, trying to make sense of her own emotions. Did she love him? She realized that the answer had been in her heart for months, but she’d been too afraid to face it.

Her phone buzzed again, pulling her from her thoughts. Lando’s name flashed across the screen once more. This time, her thumb hovered over the screen, hesitating before she tapped it.

She read his message: Please, Y/N. Just let me know you’re okay.

Her heart ached as the words weighed heavily on her. She typed a reply but paused, her fingers trembling. After a deep breath, she hit send:

Y/N: I’m fine. I just needed some time to think.

On the other end, Lando’s phone buzzed once more, and he lunged for it, his heart leaping when he saw her name appear.

"She responded," he said quietly to Max, who gave him an encouraging nod.

Lando opened the message and read it quickly, his brow furrowing with confusion. "She’s fine?" he muttered, feeling unconvinced by her words.

Max leaned over to glance at the screen. "Sounds like she just needs some space."

But Lando wasn’t satisfied. He typed back immediately: Think about what? Did I do something to upset you? Please, Y/N, talk to me.

Back in London, Y/N stared at his message, her chest tightening. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she wasn’t ready to confront her feelings—his or hers. She needed more time.

Lando opened his mouth to argue, but then stopped short. He had spent months hiding his feelings for Y/N, terrified of scaring her off, of ruining the connection they shared. But now, her sudden departure was making him question everything.

"Do you think she knows?" he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Max frowned. "Knows what?"

"How I feel about her," Lando admitted, his gaze shifting away as if he were ashamed.

Max studied him for a moment before shrugging. "If she does, she hasn’t said anything to me. But maybe that’s the problem—you’ve been waiting for her to figure it out instead of telling her."

Lando’s jaw tightened at the suggestion. "And if I tell her and she doesn’t feel the same?"

"Then at least you’ll know," Max said simply. "But honestly, I think you’re underestimating her."

The next day, Lando couldn’t take it anymore. The cabin, with all its festive decorations and roaring fire, felt too big and too empty without Y/N. With no more time to waste, he grabbed his coat and car keys.

"Where are you going?" Max asked, looking up from his phone.

"London," Lando replied with quiet determination.

It was late afternoon by the time Lando arrived at Y/N’s flat. The crisp winter air stung his skin as he knocked on her door, nervous energy bubbling inside him.

The door opened, and there she was—her expression a mix of surprise and apprehension.

"Lando," she said softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"You didn’t answer my calls," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "I needed to see you. I needed to know why you left."

She stepped aside, allowing him to enter. The warmth of her flat enveloped him, the scent of cinnamon and pine filling the air. They stood in the living room, the silence between them thick with unspoken words.

"Y/N, talk to me," Lando urged. "Did I do something? Did I say something?"

Her eyes filled with tears, and her voice trembled as she finally spoke. "I heard you, Lando. At the cabin, talking to Max."

His heart sank. "You... heard me?"

She nodded, her voice breaking. "You said you cared about me but couldn’t tell me because you thought I wouldn’t feel the same. That it was too complicated."

Lando closed his eyes in anguish. "Y/N, I didn’t mean for you to hear that."

"But you meant it," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, his expression softening as he reached for her hands. "Of course I meant it. I care about you more than you know. But I didn’t say anything because I thought you’d pity me—or worse, push me away."

Y/N’s tears spilled over, and she wiped them away quickly. "Lando, I could never pity you. And I would never push you away."

His brows furrowed, searching her eyes for understanding. "Then why did you leave?"

"Because I didn’t know how to handle it," she admitted, her voice raw with emotion. "Hearing you doubt yourself—it scared me."

Lando gently took her hands in his, looking deeply into her eyes. "I’ve been scared, too. Scared of losing you, of ruining what we have. But I can’t keep hiding how I feel."

Her breath caught in her throat as his words sank in.

"I love you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I’ve loved you since the moment we met. And if you don’t feel the same, I’ll understand. But I couldn’t let you leave without telling you."

Tears streamed down her face as she looked up at him, her heart pounding. "I do feel the same," she whispered. "I’ve been in love with you, too. I just didn’t know how to say it."

A smile spread across his face as relief and joy flooded his chest. Without another word, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that."

She smiled through her tears, resting her forehead against his. "I’m sorry for running. I should’ve just talked to you."

Lando held Y/N close, his heart racing as if it were a race day. For months, he’d rehearsed this moment in his mind, but nothing could have prepared him for the overwhelming relief and joy that came with hearing her say she loved him too.

"You don’t have to apologize," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I should’ve told you how I felt sooner. I was just too much of a coward to risk losing you."

Y/N pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting his with a soft vulnerability. "You’re not a coward, Lando. You’ve been so patient with me, and I’m sorry if I ever made you think I didn’t care."

"You didn’t," he assured her. "I just... I got in my own head. I do that sometimes."

She smiled gently, the tension finally starting to ease. "We’re both pretty good at overthinking, huh?"

"Clearly," he replied with a chuckle, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand. "But maybe we can work on that together?"

Y/N nodded, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "I’d like that."

The air between them shifted again, quieter now, but no less intense. Lando’s gaze flickered to her lips, and for a moment, he hesitated.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her response was immediate—a shy but confident nod as she leaned in. Their lips met, soft and tentative at first, but quickly deepened as weeks of unspoken feelings spilled into the kiss. Lando’s hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer, while Y/N’s fingers tangled in his curls.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting together.

"That was worth the wait," Lando said, his voice tinged with humor and awe.

Y/N laughed softly, her cheeks still flushed. "Yeah, it was."

Lando glanced around her cozy flat, the Christmas lights casting a warm glow over everything. "As much as I love this place, it feels like we’re missing out on our cabin Christmas."

Y/N frowned slightly, guilt creeping back in. "I’m sorry for leaving. I ruined the trip for everyone."

"Hey," he said firmly, cupping her face with both hands. "Don’t do that. No one blames you, least of all me. Besides," he added with a teasing smirk, "I rented that ridiculously fancy cabin for selfish reasons."

Her brows furrowed. "Selfish reasons?"

"Yeah," he admitted, leaning in closer. "I was hoping I’d get some time alone with you."

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, and then she laughed, a sound that sent warmth flooding through him. "Well, I guess you got what you wanted in the end."

"Not quite everything," he said, his tone turning serious. "But I’m working on it."

By the following evening, they were back at the cabin. Y/N had been reluctant at first, but Lando insisted, saying he wanted to finish what they’d started.

As the car pulled up to the chalet, Y/N couldn’t help but gasp. Seeing it again, with its snow-covered roof and twinkling lights against the backdrop of the Alps, it felt like stepping into a postcard.

"It’s beautiful," she said softly.

Lando grinned as he grabbed their bags. "Wait until you see it at night."

Inside, the warmth of the fireplace welcomed them, and Y/N felt a wave of nostalgia for the short time she’d spent there.

"I didn’t unpack everything after you left," Lando admitted as he set her bag by the stairs. "Figured you’d be back."

Y/N turned to him, her heart aching at how much faith he’d had in her. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

"Never," he said simply, his eyes locking with hers.

They spent the evening decorating the tree, finishing what they’d started days ago. Lando playfully scolded Y/N for her questionable ornament placement, while she retaliated by draping tinsel over his head.

When the tree was finally done, they sat on the plush rug in front of the fire, a bottle of wine between them.

"This feels nice," Y/N said, her voice soft.

Lando leaned back on his hands, watching her intently. "It feels perfect."

Y/N glanced at him, her cheeks heating under his gaze. "You’re staring again."

"Can’t help it," he said with a small shrug. "You’re kind of my favorite thing to look at."

Her laughter was quiet but genuine. "You’re such a flirt."

"Only with you," he admitted, his tone earnest.

They fell into a comfortable silence, the crackling of the fire filling the space. Y/N sipped her wine, her mind wandering back to the moment she overheard him at the cabin.

"Lando?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"When you said it was complicated... What did you mean?"

He exhaled deeply, setting his glass down. "I meant that my life is messy. The travel, the attention, the pressure—it’s not easy, and I didn’t want to drag you into all of that if you weren’t ready. But I realized something after you left."

"What?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"That none of it matters if I don’t have you," he said, his eyes shining with sincerity. "You make everything better, Y/N. And I’m done letting fear get in the way of that."

Her chest tightened, and she reached out to take his hand. "I don’t care about the mess, Lando. I just want you."

His smile was soft but filled with relief. "You’ve got me, then."

And as the fire burned low and the snow fell gently outside, they sat together, finally at peace. For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

As the evening drew on, the crackling warmth from the fire grew more comforting, and the glow of the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree made the cabin feel like a perfect little world of their own. Lando and Y/N had fallen into a comfortable silence, the soft clink of their wine glasses and the occasional laugh over a shared memory keeping the air light.

Y/N leaned back against the soft rug, feeling the warmth of the fire seeping into her body, and caught herself glancing over at Lando. His attention was on the flames, but there was something different in his expression tonight—a vulnerability she hadn’t seen before. The weight of everything between them—the distance, the confusion, the undeniable connection—had been lifted, and what remained was something new. Something hopeful.

"Lando," she began, her voice just above a whisper, tentative, yet full of curiosity.

He turned toward her, his eyes still soft but intense, always making her heart beat a little faster. "Yeah?"

Y/N swallowed, the words feeling heavy on her tongue, unsure of how to articulate the depth of her thoughts. "I’ve been thinking about everything—the way things unfolded, the way I left, and how much I was running from us… from what was right in front of me."

Lando’s gaze softened even more, and he scooted closer to her, his hand brushing against hers before he stopped, as if asking for permission. She placed her hand in his, lacing their fingers together, the simple touch sending a jolt of warmth through her chest.

"You’re not the only one who was running," he murmured, his voice low and sincere. "I think I’ve been too scared of what we could be. Of messing it up. But now… with you here, everything feels right. And I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t."

Her heart fluttered at his words. "I was scared, too," she admitted softly, gazing into his eyes. "Scared that maybe I was just a distraction for you. That maybe I was too much for you, or that you wouldn’t feel the same. But I don’t want to feel like that anymore."

He smiled, and for the first time in a long time, it was a smile that reached his eyes—gentle, warm, full of promise. "I feel everything for you, Y/N. I just didn’t know how to show it. How to tell you, especially when I thought you might not feel the same."

Y/N looked down at their intertwined hands, feeling a tightness in her chest at the realization of just how much they had both been holding back. "I’m sorry for leaving like I did," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I shouldn’t have run away. I just… I was so overwhelmed."

Lando lifted her chin gently with his fingers, his touch tender as he urged her to meet his gaze. "You don’t need to apologize," he said softly. "What matters now is that we’re here. Together. And we don’t have to hide from what we feel anymore."

For a long moment, they just stared at each other, the air thick with the weight of everything they hadn’t said before. There was something sacred about this moment, as though time had slowed, giving them space to let everything they had kept buried come to the surface.

And then, without warning, Y/N felt the rush of emotions she had been holding back for so long. She leaned in slowly, her eyes never leaving his, as if testing the waters, seeing if he would pull away. But he didn’t. Instead, he met her halfway, their lips brushing in a tentative kiss that was soft but filled with an intensity neither of them had expected. It was the kind of kiss that spoke of years of friendship, years of longing, of waiting for the right moment.

But when their lips finally met, it felt like the world had shifted. It wasn’t just about a kiss. It was about all the unspoken words, all the time they had spent pretending they didn’t care, when all along, they had been waiting for this very moment. The kiss deepened, slow and desperate, as though they were both trying to make up for lost time, to erase the doubt and the distance they had allowed to grow between them.

When they pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, and neither of them spoke for a while. The only sound was the soft crackle of the fire and the distant howling of the wind outside.

"Everything feels different now," Y/N whispered, her voice full of wonder.

Lando’s lips quirked up in a gentle smile. "Different in a good way?"

She nodded, her fingers tracing the lines of his palm. "In a way that makes everything else feel unimportant. Like nothing else matters but us."

"Yeah," he agreed, the weight of the words settling in. "I’ve spent so much time thinking about the future, about racing, about everything else. But in this moment, with you… I know what really matters. It’s you."

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest, her heart swelling with affection. "I’ve been thinking the same thing," she said, her voice soft but steady. "I was scared. But now that we’re here, I’m not afraid anymore."

Lando tilted his head, studying her face with an intensity that sent a rush of heat through her. "So, no more running?"

She shook her head, her smile gentle but full of certainty. "No more running."

Lando leaned in again, his lips capturing hers in another kiss—this one slow, full of everything they had been holding back. There was a tenderness in it, a promise that they would take this slow, that they would learn to navigate whatever was to come together. But more than that, it was a kiss filled with the knowledge that they were finally on the same page, finally together in a way they had always been meant to be.

As they broke apart, Lando reached for the bottle of wine and poured them both another glass, the soft clink of the glasses a gentle reminder that they had come a long way.

Y/N glanced out the window at the snowflakes gently falling from the sky, each one unique and fleeting, just like the moment they were sharing. "It’s beautiful out there," she said softly.

Lando turned to look as well, and for a moment, they were silent again, watching the world outside. But then he turned back to her, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Not as beautiful as you, though," he said with a grin.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. "You’re such a flirt."

"Only with you," he replied, his voice low and teasing. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin. "And I always will be."

Her heart raced at his words, her body feeling alive with the anticipation of everything that was unfolding between them. She leaned into him again, her lips brushing his, more sure of herself now than she had ever been.

And for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to believe in the possibility of everything—the future, the love they had shared, and the love that was still waiting to be discovered between them.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Surprise Marriage

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> When you and Logan receive some...surprising news, it leads to a lot of unanswered questions.

Disclaimer: One or two swear words here and there. Mostly fluff, chaos, little angst, yearning, kissing and a happy ending. Not Proof Read.

The morning, so far, had been slow for Logan. 

Which, thankfully, due to the last couple of years, wasn’t out of the ordinary. Sure, a kid or two might forget to have done their homework or the coffee filter hadn’t been changed. But other than the small, common, everyday mishaps, everything had been pretty normal. 

But somehow, when Logan woke up, something felt off. 

Maybe it was the quiet hallways, maybe it was the fact he hadn’t seen any other professors in the break room or around the school, or maybe it was the fact that when he walked into the Professor's office, everyone looked at him with…worry. 

“What is it? What’s going on?”

“Logan, I think it’s best if you sit down.”

Logan looked around everybody and they all looked worried, too. Not “someone’s dead” worried, but worried enough to make him feel uneasy. 

“What’s going on?”

“Have you seen Y/n today?”

Logan shook his head. “She had a late night. She’s probably still sleeping.”

Professor X looked at Storm. “Go and get her for me, please.”

Storm nodded and made her way out of the door and towards your bedroom. Meanwhile, Logan was still confused. 

“Charles, what’s going on?”

The man took a small sigh and looked at the papers on his desk before looking back up to Logan. 

“Come on, clearly everyone else knows. What is it?”

The Professor went back and forth with himself for a minute before finally looking back up. “I suppose I should tell you. You’re married, Logan.”

Logan laughed. “Excuse me?”

“I received these papers this morning from a law firm in Oklahoma. It seems it took them a while to find an address for you both.”

“Both? What?”

“Here, take a look for yourself.” The Professor pushed the papers to the edge of his desk where Logan took them with caution and a lot of confusion. 

“What the hell? When were these even..drawn up? Better yet, who’s my wife?”

“Well, that would be the other question except-”

Just as the Professor was about to finish his sentence, the door to his office opened and Storm walked in with you not far behind. Everyone looked at you…worriedly. Like they knew something you didn’t. 

Logan looked annoyed as he flipped through a couple sheets of paper but when he saw you, he held the same expression but only for a minute then it turned into…into something else. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. 

Then you remembered. 

It had been laundry day. 

And you wore one of his shirts to bed. 

Standing in his t-shirt and some plaid pyjama shorts that you found in the back of your wardrobe, your hair down and slightly messy from having only just woken up, you looked around everyone. 

“What’s going on?”

“Well, Y/n-”

“Take a look at this.” Logan handed you the pile of paper he had been reading, and with a slightly tired and confused look, you read through it. 

What was it meant to be? A news article? A government contract? A kid’s essay who’s handwriting they couldn’t read…again?

But no. 

It was anything but. 

Well, maybe a government contract…of sorts. 

“This is a marriage licence.” You spoke aloud. “Logan, why am I looking at a marriage licence at eight in the morning? Oh my god, are Jean and Scott finally getting hitched. About time.”

“No,” Logan said. “It’s ours.”

“What?”

“It’s ours. We’re married.”

You stopped reading. Even if you had pretended to do so, all the words on the page suddenly became blocks of ink that you couldn’t make out. 

“What?”

Then the Professor started to explain. “We were hoping one of you could explain this to us, though if neither of you wish to, that’s completely fine. What happens between a husband and wife is none of our-”

“When did this even happen?” You asked Logan. 

“I don’t know.”

“A law firm in Oklahoma sent it over. Apparently it’s taken them a while to find your address.”

You thought for a moment. Yourself and Logan hadn’t been in Oklahoma for nearly ten months. And you certainly didn’t get married. At least, not from memory. 

“I need to sit down.”

Logan pushed out the chair beside him with his foot and you fell into the softer leather. You had just woken up and all of a sudden you felt like you wanted to sleep for at least a month. 

“We’re married? Are you sure it’s ours? Maybe they got the addresses mixed up and…I don’t know. Got it wrong?”

Logan leaned back and pressed his hand to the side of his face. “Flipped to the back page.”

And so you did. 

There was your name. And Logan’s. Signed and dated. 

You were married to Logan. 

Logan had become your husband as of ten months ago. 

You had become Logan’s wife. 

“I think I’m gonna puke.”

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” Scott said. Jean hit him on the arm. “What?”

“Hard to not be a little offended at that.” Logan said, half under his breath, half to you. 

“Do either of you know when this happened?”

You shook your head, still trying to read the pieces of paper in front of you. When could this have-

“The library.”

“What?” 

Logan sat up. “We signed for a package. What kind of delivery company has us sign a marriage contract instead?”

“I don’t know but it had to be there. That’s the only time we ever…wrote our names, signed a piece of paper. It could have been this.”

“We would have noticed if it said “MARRIAGE LICENCE” at the top of the page.”

Then the bell rang. 

“We…should pick this up later. For now, let's just try and go about today as normal.”

You could only nod in agreement. And as everyone left, the Professor turned to both you and Logan who were sitting facing each other in your chairs. 

“I’ll give you both some time.”

Logan nodded a small thank you and waited until the door closed behind Xavier before he spoke. 

You were silent. Still processing. Your heart was like rapid fire against your chest and your vision was slowly losing focus on the paper in front of you. 

Logan pulled the paper from your hands and placed it on the desk before shuffling closer and holding onto both of your hands. 

“Hey, hey, look at me.” One of Logan’s hands came to rest by the side of your face. “Just breathe. I can hear your heartbeat from here. Just…take a deep breath.”

“We’re married, Logan.” Your voice was quieter than usual. 

“I know.”

“We’re married.”

Logan nodded. “I know.”

“What are we going to do?”

“That one I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

You shrugged. “What are we meant to do? By all technicality…we’re married. Husband and Wife. According to this piece of paper, I’ve been a fraud to the government by not going by Howlett.”

“So we…we get a divorce?”

“How? Don’t there have to be…grounds for getting divorced?”

“So, we tell them it was a mistake.” Logan offered. “I’m sure we’ll be divorced as quick as we found out we were- are married.”

You could only nod. 

Logan rubbed a thumb over each of your knuckles. “Hey, we’ll be okay. It’ll all be fine. Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I woke up and found out I’m a wife with a husband. That’s what’s going on. Jesus, are the lights always this bright in here?”

You covered your closed eyes with one hand, trying your best to stop the pounding in your head. 

“How can you be so calm about this?”

Logan shrugged. “Figure you’re freaking out enough for the both of us.”

That made you laugh a little. 

“Come on, we need to get to class. And you need to get dressed. Unless you want to teach in your pyjamas.”

You looked down at yourself. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about using your t-shirt. Laundry day.”

Logan smiled. “It’s okay. Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.”

Hours later, you found yourself in a pair of jeans you fished from the bottom of your semi-fresh clothes pile and decided to keep Logan’s t-shirt on. A, because it’s one of the most comfortable things you’ve worn, and B, it was the only clean top you had. 

And after spending all day teaching classes, you found yourself going through each of your dirty items and throwing them into the washing machine, being careful to make sure there were no sneaky bright or dark colours that made their way into a wash they shouldn’t have been in. 

“Hey.”

You turned to find Storm waiting by the door before walking inside. 

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

“After teaching a bunch of teenagers all day? Exhausted.” You said with a small laugh. And Storm chuckled for a moment before walking around you and leaning on the wall so she was facing you as you unloaded your dirty laundry into the machine. 

“I know that feeling but that wasn’t why I was asking.”

You nodded. You knew that. “I don’t know. It’s just…new information.”

“Have you seen Logan today?”

You shook your head. “Not since this morning. Though he did leave a coffee on my desk when I got back to my classroom after lunch.”

Storm smiled. Between herself and the others (including the kids - though they were yet to find out) Storm thought the best thing to happen was for yourself and Logan to get married. Okay, maybe not in the way it happened. But it was a positive thing. 

They had been watching you and Logan for years, becoming friends, becoming teammates, trusting each other, finding your own…ways together. Like with the coffee. Logan only did that with you. Or how, despite only knowing him a week, seemed to know more about him than anyone else did. 

You were both so close with each other than some of the kids in the school had questioned your relationship status with each other. 

“Have you talked about what you’re going to do?”

“What can we do? The most reasonable, and sensible, thing to do is get a divorce.”

Storm crossed her arms. “Have you talked about maybe…staying together?”

“What?”

Storm shrugged. “It’s an idea. Maybe this is a sign telling you both that there’s something more than just friendship. I mean, going off what you’re currently wearing…that is his, isn’t it?”

You looked down. 

“It’s laundry day. He let me wear it.”

“And are you going to give it back, or did he tell you to keep it?”

You were silent and Storm watched as small patches of blush warmed your cheeks. She had her answer. 

“Look, all I’m saying is, maybe this is a sign. Maybe this is your chance to see if there is something more between you and Logan.”

“If there was, something would have happened by now.”

Oh, how Storm wished that was true. 

But sometimes it was agony watching you both together. Like how at Christmas, you fell asleep against him by the fire and Logan smiled. It wasn’t a big grin, but he smiled. Or how you were the only one Logan would let near him when he had been impaled in his shoulder by a six foot rod. Or how you looked at him. And how he looked at you right back. 

There was more than just friendship. A lot more. 

“Just think about it.”

And with that she left. And you were left wondering. 

What the hell was there to think about? You and Logan were friends, sure, but…more? Sure, when you first met him, it felt instant. Instant likeness, instant trust. And that never came easy for you. Or Logan for that matter. And, yeah, maybe once or twice you had thought something could have happened. 

Like the night in the motel room, funnily enough, in Oklahoma. 

It had been one bed and you had both woken up and turned to face each other. You had both been talking for a good twenty minutes when the conversation lulled and you were both there. You felt something. You couldn’t put your finger on it but you felt something. But everything was cut short when the owner of the Motel came to knock on the door so he could fix the leaky tap in the bathroom. 

Or like the night when you all went camping with the kids. 

Somehow, you had found yourself sharing a tent with Logan even though it had been planned for you and Storm to bunk. 

You teased Logan on how happy he was to be bunked with you and not Scott. And for a split second, you could have sworn you saw him blush. Though it was probably out of embarrassment of your teasing. 

But that couldn’t have been something. It couldn’t have meant anything, could it?

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Logan turned and found the last person he expected to be standing by the door. 

“Scott?”

“Figured you’d still be awake and lo and behold, I was right.”

Logan watched as he walked inside and sat across from him. “Have you come to say something, or just be a dick the whole time?”

Scott chuckled, “Maybe a bit of both.”

Logan raised his eyebrows and took another drink. 

“Have you talked to her?” Logan knew exactly who he was talking about. But he shook his head. 

“Not since this morning.”

“Have you talked about what you’re going to do?”

“What do you want, pal?”

Well, he wasn’t being Logan if he didn’t want to skip the pleasantries. 

“I think you and Y/n should give this thing a chance.”

“Excuse me?”

Scott smirked a little. “Come on, you can’t tell me you’ve not thought about it with her. How close you two are, how you both seem to know what the other does before they even do it. And call it what you want, I think this is the perfect excuse.”

“Perfect excuse?”

“To see if something can actually happen between you two.”

“And why should it?”

“Because you’re in love with her.”

For some reason, that felt like a punch to the gut to Logan. 

“Look, bub, I know-”

“Logan, the way you look at her isn’t the way a friend looks at another friend. I’ve seen the way you look at her. We all have. From day one, that girl has been something else for you, and even if you don’t know it, the rest of us do. You’re in love with her. You always have been.”

“No, I’m-”

“You can’t deny it, Logan.” Scott told him. “Eventually something is going to snap and it might be too late. So, you’ve done the whole relationship a little backwards. So what? You’d only get divorced anyway if it doesn’t work out. But you need to do something about your feelings, Logan.”

Logan had to laugh. “I think I’d know if I was in love with someone.”

Scott sighed. Did he seriously have to paint Logan a fucking picture. 

“You make her coffee every day. You bring her lunch and sit with her every day. She is the first person you go to when you finally want to ask someone for help. And I know for a fact she is the first person you tell anything to. She knows more about you than anyone else in this building does, and that is down to you and everything you have shared with her. Anytime anyone looks in her direction, you aren’t too far behind her.”

“I saw you, that day, when the Mayor and his brother turned up at the school.” Scott continued. “The way his brother was looking her up and down…Logan you were by her side in less than ten seconds and we all saw the look you gave him. That man left the Professor’s office trembling. He also never looked in y/n’s direction again.”

“What’s your point?”

“That you were jealous, Logan. And that, for as much as you can and probably will try and deny it. You love her.”

The conversation lulled for a moment. 

“All I’m saying is at least think about it. We’ve all seen you together. Maybe it’s time you finally noticed yourself.”

Logan didn’t see you until the next day when he caught you folding laundry in your room. 

“Want some help?”

You turned around and saw him. “Sure. You can start with that pile.”

Logan entered your room, a little more awkward than usual, and started folding clothes. 

“How are you…how are you feeling?”

You shrugged. “Like normal, I guess. What about you?”

“Yeah, fine.”

IT was a slight struggle after that but conversation flowed a little easier eventually. 

That was something Logan always loved when it came to being around you. He wasn’t the biggest one for talking to people but with you, it was easy. Probably helped by the fact you could somehow change topics at lightning speed. 

Conversations with you were never, ever boring. 

Even when they were probably meant to be. 

And it wasn’t long before your fear surrounding being married…faded. 

Around a week later, a leak had sprung on one side of the school which meant having to bunk rooms for a while. Of course, all the kids went with their friends. 

But it also meant you had to bunk with someone too. 

“You can bunk with me.” Logan told you. 

You nodded. “Finally sharing a room. Wow, we’re really moving generations in this relationship.”

“After you, wife.”

This became a common theme, until the weight of the words settled down on both of you once more. 

A divorce lawyer had picked up your case. 

It would take a couple of weeks to get all the papers sorted, but yourself and Logan would be divorced by the middle of the following month. 

Like nothing had ever happened. 

Except, it just so happened, that was when something did happen. 

Scott and Storms’s words had been playing on Logan’s mind and yours. Not helped by the fact it wasn’t the last time someone held that kind of conversation with either of you. 

You found yourself in a similar conversation with Scott, whilst Logan had a similar conversation with Jean. 

And then the Professor approached you both, without the other one knowing. 

Except he hadn’t been to sit down and talk to you about it. He just made small comments in passing that left you both questioning more and more about your true feelings. 

And then Logan found you in the library one night. 

“Here you are. You didn’t come to bed so…what are you doing?”

Standing close to the top of the book ladder, you were scanning through different books with a flashlight.

“The main light is too big and the fire’s light doesn’t reach this far back.”

Logan blinked. “That…still didn’t answer my question.”

“I’ve got a new semester of lessons set out. I wanted to get a head start on finding the books needed.”

Logan looked around. “You got a list?”

You looked at him. “Logan, it’s past midnight. Go to bed.”

“That’s not what I asked. Where’s your list? I know you’ve got one.”

Sighing, you reached into your back pocket and held it out. He walked over and plucked it from your fingers. 

“There’s twenty six books on this list.”

“And I currently have three. If you still want to help, any that you find, just place them on the table behind the sofa.”

And so he did. 

By two in the morning, you’d both found twenty three books in total. Just three more left. 

“Is this the right edition?”

“Let me see.”

Logan walked over to where you were still standing on the ladder and handed it up to you. You flipped through a couple of the first pages as you slowly climbed backwards down the stairs. 

“Yeah, this is the right one. The last two should be on a lower shelf.”

As you finally reached the last few steps, you felt your foot slip and your knees crashed against the bars. Except, instead of falling backwards, or rolling with the ladder itself, Logan’s hands steadied you. 

“You alright?”

You took a second to breathe. Having your life flash before your eyes for a couple of seconds really knocks the wind out of you. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you laughed a little. “I’m fine.”

You turned in Logan’s arms and was met with his broad and solid chest as his hands held you at your waist. 

“Good,” Logan laughed a little, too. 

The sound of your life had always been like music to his ears. 

A comfort, even when the moment hadn’t been all that comfortable beforehand. 

And for that moment, time seemed to still. Any silence that had been in the room was slowly becoming defending, until your hearing focused on his breathing. The steady rise and fall of his chest and the quickening of your own heartbeat. 

The flashlight that you had held in your hands had rolled somewhere onto the floor when you slipped on the ladder. 

But you had never seen Logan so…clearly. 

You had known him for so long and had even spent nights and mornings in the same bed together. But for the first time, you were committing him to memory. Part of you felt like these moments would go, once the papers came through. That even if neither of you wanted it, something would inherently change between you both once the papers were signed and delivered. 

But something in that moment was changing too. 

Like how you were realising you never wanted to be away from him. That the best place on this earth was right where you were. In his arms, his eyes on you, and yours on him. 

You found yourself leaning in forward, almost as if, if you didn’t get closer to him, he might disappear. 

And he was doing the same. 

One of his hands came up to your face as he rubbed a couple of strands of your hair between his fingers before he slowly pushed it back and let his gaze wash over you. 

He was committing you to memory, too. 

His eyes locked on yours once more, just as his other hand trailed down your waist and to your hip. 

You fell closer to him. 

Or maybe he pulled you closer. 

Either way, you never wanted to be without his touch. 

What felt like an eternity later, you finally felt his lips against yours and yours against his. 

It started off slow. This was new territory for you both when it came to the other. It was slow, full of mixed feelings and…something else. 

Then it snapped. 

Logan pushed a little harder and you felt your legs hit the back of the book ladder just as his hand and arm snaked around and up your back, holding you flush against him as your own arms pulled him closer to you. 

Logan braced the hand that had been by your face, by the side of your head, holding onto the book ladder, keeping you both steady. 

And he felt your breath hitch as he stepped into you. 

Before you knew it, you were braced against one of the bars on the ladder as Logan’s lips went from yours, across your jaw and down the column of your neck. A small grunt escaped him as your own fingers scratched through the back of his hair and down the back of his neck. 

However, just as his lips returned to yours and his hands slipped under the hem of your t-shirt– his t-shirt, as your own started reaching for the hem of his…a clock went off. 

“W-w-w-w-w-wait. Wait. Stop.”

“Is everything okay?”

You swallowed. “Yes…no. I don’t know. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Logan wanted to ask “Why? Why shouldn't we?”. But instead, lowered his head. He knew why. 

“You’re right…you’re right.”

Your own temple came to rest against his for a few moments, neither of you wishing to leave the moment just yet. 

“We should go…before someone comes in.”

“It’s two in the morning, who is going to come in?”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“Then don’t.”

You stayed quiet for a long time, feeling Logan’s fingers draw circles over your skin. Eventually, the only sound you heard was his heartbeat and his breath, slowly matching your own. 

But no matter how much of you told you to stay, you tried your best to fight it. 

You and Logan were friends. Friends who were about to get a divorce from a marriage neither of you could remember fully consenting to. 

“Goodnight, Logan.”

Reluctantly, you stepped out of his arms, his light grip on your hand not letting go until you were both too far apart to hold on any longer, and made your way through the school until you came across an empty room. 

It was the smaller quiet space that overlooked the back of the school. Perfect for the nights when too much noise was keeping you up at night. 

Except, it wasn’t noise keeping you awake. 

It was your own mind, relieving the one thing you thought you would never do with Logan. The one thing you wanted most to keep going. The one thing you would never forget. 

When Logan woke the next day, part of him thought it was all a dream. But even he couldn’t have dreamed up anything from the night before and have it still feel so real in the morning. 

Then he didn’t see you for three days. 

Save for one moment when he brought a box of your things from his room, to yours. You opened the door, wearing another one of his t-shirts. One that went missing months ago. One that he had seen on your at least a dozen times since. One that he felt he was truly seeing for the first time, on you. 

The exchange, coming from the both of you together, couldn’t have felt anything more than awkward. 

And then another moment hit. 

You didn’t close the door. 

He didn’t know what to say. 

All he knew was that he wished he was back with you, in the library. 

And you were wishing the same thing right back. 

“I should-”

“You should-”

A small, awkward laugh came from both of you before eventually you shut the door, wishing you had enough confidence to open it back up and call after him. 

Two days later, Logan hadn’t seen you at all. 

And a morning meeting, with Storm going to get you from your bed, led to Logan realising why he hadn’t seen you. 

“She’s not there?”

Logan turned immediately. “What?”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know. She’s not in her room or any other place she usually is this early in the morning.”

“Doesn’t she have classes to teach?” Scott asked. 

“She doesn’t teach Wednesday and Thursday.” Logan told him. 

And it wasn’t long before Logan heard his name being called behind him by Xavier as he marched his way out of the office and to every room he could think you would be. 

You were nowhere to be found. It was almost like you hadn’t been there for weeks. The books you had taken out – the ones Logan had helped you find – were piled neatly in your bedroom. On your desk, you had a small wicker basket filled with letters and postcards, all arranged in date order, the newest ones being at the front. 

The pictures you had on your windowsill displayed all the people you loved the most. And included a picture from when you had ambushed him on his birthday. He rarely, if ever, took a photo. 

But he smiled, albeit a little awkwardly, with you. 

“Where could she have gone?”

Logan looked around your room. You wouldn’t have just gotten up and left for good. You loved teaching your kids too much, despite whatever else had happened. 

Then Logan saw the framed pictures on the wall, just across from your bed. 

“I’ll check with Cyerbro. She couldn’t have gone far.”

“She could be half way across the world by now!”

Logan shook his head. “But she’s not.”

A lot of them were confused, but Xavier watched Logan for a moment. 

“Do you know where she is?”

“I have an idea.”

With that, Logan reached for the wall and pulled down one of the smaller frames and carried it out with him.

“Hold on, I’m coming with you.” Storm called out to him. 

“You don’t even know where I’m going.”

“Logan, you look like you’re just about ready to punch a bull. I know, right now, even if you are the last person she wants to see, you are the first person she needs. But that also means I know what you’re going to do and, love you or not, Y/n wouldn’t want you to hurt someone or even yourself to find her.”

And Storm was right. 

And she was right to tag along. 

Because just five hours later, Logan had pulled up outside a local pharmacy. They had received a call on the way; they were heading in the right direction, but they needed to go into the town first. Any chance of finding where she was in the mountains lay where she had been all day. 

And it wasn’t long before Storm had to step in to stop Logan from almost killing the cashier. 

He had been dancing around the question, leading them all on different tangents of conversation about the town and the people in it before finally he got to his answer.

The cashier nodded. “I don’t know where she lives, but Connie might. She knows everything in the town.”

“Where is Connie?”

The cashier pointed out of the door. “In the bakery, across the street.”

“Thank you,” Logan told him, swiping the picture back up from the counter and walking outside. Storm stopped short behind Logan when she saw he wasn’t moving off the sidewalk. 

Then she saw. 

You had just left the building and climbed inside your beaten up, old Jeep Wrangler. You pulled out of your parking spot and drove off down the street. 

And Logan followed. 

However, halfway up the road, he started to recognise the place. He’d been here before, except he was going up the way he would come down and out of the cabin. 

So, he took a turn. 

He was at your cabin ten minutes before you were. Storm had stayed behind in the town to call the others and let them know what was going on. 

“You fixed her up well.”

You jumped at his voice and threw a can of pumpkin puree at his head. Though he managed to catch it before his head made a dent in the can. 

“Jesus, Logan.” Then you realised. “How did you find me?”

“You forget that I know you. The pictures on your wall. They’re a lot more recent.”

You didn’t know what else to say so you turned back to your front door and pushed it open, Logan hurrying after you. 

“Why did you leave?” He called out, placing the can on the side. 

“I didn’t leave.” You called back as you unpacked some of your groceries. 

“You disappeared into thin air but you weren’t abducted. I’d call that leaving.”

“I needed a break, Logan. I needed…time.”

“Time from what?”

“From everything. From you, from marriage, from the school, from the library. It’s like I woke up one morning and, quite literally, everything had changed. One day we were- we were teachers and friends…we were us, Logan. And then…we kissed and…I don’t know what we’re meant to do, Logan.” You dropped your head as you pressed your palms onto the kitchen counter.

“Maybe we’re meant to do nothing.” Logan walked towards you. “Maybe we keep things as they are.”

“What? Single and married?”

Logan shook his head, bringing his hand to pull yours to look at him. 

“Married and together.”

Your lips parted for a moment, your eyes scanning his face, waiting for the joke to have its punchline. 

“So, we did everything a little backwards?” Logan shrugged. “So what.”

“Logan…”

“I love you, y/n.” Logan told you, nothing but seriousness and truth in his eyes. “And I think you love me, too. But you’re scared. And so am I. Do you love me, y/n?”

You were trying your hardest to keep your emotions inside you, but something was failing. “Of course I do.”

“Then we start here, just you and me.”

“If something goes wrong, I can’t lose you. You mean too much to me, Logan.”

Logan smirked. “Good job I can regenerate.”

You scoffed and hit him in the shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

Logan nodded, a faint smile on his face. “I know. You’re not going to lose me, Y/n. You couldn’t ever.”

“Promise me.”

Logan nodded. “I promise. Can I kiss you now?”

Logan didn’t have time to finish his question before your lips met his in a searing kiss, your hands pulling him closer to you whilst his own arms wrapped around you. 

Maybe you had done the whole relationship thing backwards, but that didn’t matter. Not anymore.

Not when you finally had each other for life. 

[yawnderu]

ANGEL — John Price x Reader x Simon Riley

WC: 6,048 | Part I

Deep down, you knew Simon's way of telling you it's over between you was the moment he gave you his captain's number. Every single message you left Simon was left unanswered, not even opened most of the time, leaving you hoping that perhaps he was simply busy with his missions.

His deployments are oftentimes stressful from what you saw every time he came back home to you, yet you stopped convincing yourself everything was alright after 7 weeks of no contact. Simon Riley is not a coward— not unless it comes to feelings. You're too good for someone like him, someone who could drop dead at any moment, whose only achievements come from killing, forever tainting his hands with blood he can't seem to wash off no matter how many long showers he takes.

He rationalized for months, thought about it— thought about leaving you, too. Yet that lost puppy look of pure trust you gave him every single time he fucked into you, pretty moans leaving your parted lips and soft hands exploring his clothed body, desperately wanting to feel his bare skin against yours, something he never had the heart to give you. Too tainted, too scarred, too ugly. So like a broken man wanting to keep you safe, he did the best with what he had, leaving his captain's number on your night table the moment he was done cumming.

Over 2 months later, Simon still remembers the feeling of your warm skin beneath his lips, the look of pure vulnerability and love plastered on your face, so angelic and pretty, a sheer contrast to the nervousness on his, despite how natural it was to treat you with a tenderness he's never had with anyone in his entire life.

“He fell from a helicopter?” Crinkled eyes meet yours from across the table, taking a sip of his drink before letting out a dry chuckle, nodding his head.

“Aye, hangin' from a bloody rope. Had me scared, thinkin' I lost my Sergeant.” John said with a grin, his gaze softening at the way you were listening so intently, your full attention on him no matter how boring he thought his stories were.

“Is he scared of getting into helicopters again?” You lean a bit closer to him, your chin resting on your hand as you look up at him. From this angle, you're able to admire John's features from up-close. Every single grey hair adorning his beard, his crow's feet, the tiny beauty mark on his nose, the tiny spots on his face, likely gotten from spending a long time under the sun as a soldier from a young age.

“Of course. Took him a while to trust our pilots again, now he always double checks his gear's on right.” Price always pays attention to detail, the way your pupils dilate the longer you stare at him don't go unnoticed in the slightest. He asks a passing waitress for a check, not even giving you a second to offer to pay for your half before his card is already in her hands, going away to charge him for the dinner and drinks.

“And how's… what was his name again? Soap?” He smirks at the mild confusion when using Johnny's callsign, likely assuming it's simply a sex innuendo.

“Soap, yeah. He's a good kid, kind o' like the son I never had.” That gets your attention, looking away for a second to hold back a small smirk before looking back up at him, eyebrows raised.

“You don't have children?” That earns a small chuckle out of him, shaking his head at the question. He gave the waitress a small smile as she came back with his card, pocketing it and getting up from his chair, offering his arm up to you. There's no hesitation as you hook your arm with his, walking to his car.

“Never had girlfriends after joining the SAS. Became a captain at a young age, too.” He looks down at you as you walk, admiring your pretty features, secretly wondering how Simon could have fucked up that badly— how he let such a lovely and sweet girl go. He opens the car door for you, even going as far as to help you put on your seatbelt, letting you have a whiff at his woody cologne, the smell of smoke from cigars mixing in.

“What about you? Any children?” He asks teasingly, shooting you a playful grin before starting the car, blue eyes fully focused on the road. Unlike Simon, Price knows how to drive well, making you feel safe while on the road.

“Hell no. I've been… thinking about it, but men my age were never interested in that.” Even if he was much older, Simon was never even an option. Too emotionally unavailable, too fucked up to even consider having children.

“Part of the reason I like older men.” Your voice is smooth and even, a sheer contrast to the slight knot of nervousness tightening in your stomach, only coming undone when you hear his amused laugh.

Price's calloused palm rests on the gear shift before daring to move it over to your thigh, running up and done slowly, trying to heat up your cold skin rather than doing it to be a pervert, yet your body still reacts to his touch, warmth pooling on your lower stomach.

“Really, sweetheart?” Price isn't stupid in the slightest, yet unlike Simon, his actions aren't malicious. He simply wants to see you squirm, finding pure amusement in the laugh you both share and the playful slap you give to his arm.

“Stop using your charm on me.” You scold jokingly, unable to hide the big grin taking over your pretty face.

“I'm charming now, eh?” His grip tightens on your inner thigh, applying just enough pressure to tease you.

“According to Simon, you always have.” That makes one of his thick eyebrows raise questioningly, his lips pulling into an amused smile.

“I've known him for a long time, y'know? Back when we I was an LT.” He can't help but allow his mind to go back into the past as he drives, images of the eager Simon Riley, a broken man who simply wanted to change the world, who always helped without even asking for much in return.

“Has be always been… like that?” You ask after a few seconds of silence, allowing yourself to be the cat curiosity killed.

“No.” The Simon Riley he met was not similar to Ghost in the slightest.

“He was 'round 19 when I met him. Better than any recruits I've seen.” Yet still teased by his mates for being an apprentice butcher in the past, for being so rigid and basing his entire life on discipline, unlike the many other young soldiers who have since passed.

“I bet. He has that certain look on him, you know? The eyes. I wouldn't want to mess with him.” Price lets out a dry chuckle, nodding his head in agreement. Part of him is glad that he's been working with Simon because it seems that to know more about you, he needs to know about Simon as well.

“We're here, doll.” He parks the car, getting out of his seat and opening the door for you, his calloused hand resting on your lower back, guiding you to your house. You can feel the warmth from his hand spreading all over your body, soothing rubs up and down your back as you walk.

“Would you like a cuppa?” Mirth dances in his eyes at the audacity, already knowing your intentions, and yet.

“Of course.” Price follows after you, part of him growing excited by whatever you have in mind. Your slightly shaky hands fiddle with the keys before you're able to open the door, secretly thankful that you cleaned up your mess earlier in the day.

“What tea would you like?” You ask, turning around just in time to see Price finishing the once-over he was giving you.

“This isn't about tea, is it, darlin'?” He asks with a knowing smile, his jacket slipping out of his shoulders now that you're both inside the house. Blown pupils stare back at him, taking your time to admire the strong body hugged by his tight black shirt. You can see his bulging muscles, broad shoulders fully relaxed as he steps forward, towering over you. A monument of sorts when you're small.

“If I'm lucky, I hope not.” Your breathy voice was all Price needed as reassurance. His lips crash against yours, warm hands gripping your waist tight enough for you to feel the warmth spreading all over your lower body. The smell and taste of cigar smoke overwhelms your senses, too enthralled by the feeling of his tongue wrapping around yours, a small moan leaving your lips the moment his hand trails down to your ass, groping you with care, as if you're made of glass.

“How far do you wanna go?” His forehead leans against yours as his blown pupils stare back at you, his chest rising up and down with each breath.

“As far as you want to.” A small yelp leaves your lips when he lifts you in his arms, your legs instantly wrapping around his strong, muscular waist.

“Bedroom's there.” You don't even need to point— Price can see the open door, so enticing and tempting, allowing your small giggle to consume his whole soul like a siren's song. With carefulness that contrasts the brutality he uses as a soldier, Price sets you down in bed, strong arms on each side of your head, caging you in.

Your breaths mingle together as he leans down to kiss you again, warm tongues wrapping around the other, using his knee to spread your legs enough for his burly body to fit, subtly grinding against your clothed cunt.

“Been wantin' to do this for a long while.” Ever since Simon showed him your profile picture on WhatsApp, introducing you as a friend in need. He wouldn't dare confess it to anyone, not with the way his calloused hand rubbed his cock until it almost hurt, using your pretty face as a relief from the stress of war.

“Pretty fuckin' girl.” He praised, dragging a giggle out of you the moment his beard started tickling your neck, gentle kisses planted all over your warm, sensitive skin, his tongue darting past his lips to give your neck a tantalizing lick.

He can feel your hands exploring his strong body, his muscles bulging and tensing up beneath your soft palms. He only breaks apart the moment your hands go to the hem of his shirt, helping you pull it off of his body, the piece of clothing discarded on the floor.

“God…” Your whisper holds nothing but pure admiration, catching hints of his strong, muscular body, dark hair covering most of it. Your hand drifts up to his torso, caressing his surprisingly soft skin, not minding the scars you can feel beneath your hand. Price has been shot, stabbed, tortured, left for dead— his body acting as a keepsake of every mission gone wrong.

His gaze is soft as he stares down at you, holding a tenderness unlike a man like him, so naturally gentle and willing to show it without the walls guarding his heart— unlike Simon. His calloused hand rubs your thigh before drifting up to the hem of your blouse, carefully pushing it up and removing it with your help.

“Pretty girl.” His back bends slightly as his gentle lips now go to your bare stomach, planting a rapid-fire of kisses all over the soft skin, descending with each passing second, lifting your skin up to reveal your clothed cunt.

“I'll take care of you.” And he means every single word. Captain Price is a bad man, a bad man with a high kill-count and multiple war crimes to his name, yet John Price is a different story— caring and loving, so willing to fix something he didn't even break.

His eyes close the moment his lips connect to your mound, tongue darting out to get a taste at all he's been craving the moment he saw you. He lets out a small groan as the taste of your slickness overwhelms his senses, his hands roaming up and down your waist, daring to sneak past your bra, finally getting a good feel at your tits.

John is a starved man. A starved man whose only salvation is you, looking so pretty and sweet, panties wet with a mix of his saliva and your own slick. He's careful and gentle, pulling down your panties with both hands and dropping them on the floor, his breath catching in his throat when his gaze drifts down to your pussy, glistening under the light of your bedroom.

He doesn't waste any time, lowering himself again between your legs, licking a trail from your tight hole, to your swollen clit. Your legs try to close out of instinct, a whiny moan making its way out of your lips at the sensation of his beard against your cunt.

“Open your legs, love.” He whispered, running his thumb over your hard bud.

“Let daddy taste you.” He kisses your inner thigh before diving back in, licking and sucking on your clit, trying his best to make you feel good. Your moans are too pretty, your cunt too sweet, and Price can feel himself starting to lose control. His cock throbbed, his own desire growing stronger by the second, focusing solely on your pleasure.

“That's my good girl.” He whispered against your skin, sliding two thick fingers inside you. You're soaking wet yet still so tight, only making his desire grow, desperately needing to be inside you. Your whiny moans fuel him, his warm tongue flickering against your hardened clit faster and faster, mixing in with his sucking, his thick fingers curling inside your needy cunt.

Your hands run through his short hair, pulling at it softly to release some of the pleasure building in, the familiar knot in your stomach tightening up with each lick. Your chest rises up and down with each long, labored breath, muscles tensing up as the knot in your stomach finally comes undone, pushing his face closer to your cunt as his fingers move in and out, dragging out your orgasm.

He pulls his fingers out of you slowly, his blue eyes connecting with yours as he licks his fingers clean from your cum, your heart thudding loudly inside your chest.

“Fuck me.” That breathy whisper was all he needed, getting up only to slip out of his pants and boxers, his dick standing proudly. Despite being uncircumcised, you can see his dark pink tip, leaking precum like a broken faucet. Now that he's standing, he takes his time to admire your bare body, his blue eyes going to your tits when you take off your bra.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, yeah?” The option is always there, and he wants you to know. His knees sink into the mattress as he supports his body on top of yours with one hand, lining his hard cock with your entrance, pausing for a moment.

“Let me love you.” He whispered hoarsely, slipping into you gently despite his primal instincts telling him otherwise. He lets out a loud groan the moment your tight walls grip his throbbing cock, his face finding shelter on the crook of your neck. A small hiss makes its way out of your lips as your legs wrap on his hips, pushing him closer and deeper, allowing him to finally bottom out.

“Bloody hell— you're so tight.” He moans out, his thrusts growing faster as you get used to his thickness. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with desire and adoration, longing dancing within. John's lips part as he feels your long nails dragging down his back, driving him crazy with pure need.

“I'm close.” He whispers out, his hips ramming against you with increasing urgency, reaching out to caress one of your soft tits. He plants open-mouthed kisses all over your neck and chest, his breath warm against your sweaty skin.

“Cum inside.” John's eyes widen at your words, his dominant nature taking over as his hands go down to grip your hips firmly in place, the overwhelming desire and pleasure clouding his judgement, drowning out any concerns. His thrusts are deep and powerful, making you his with an unyielding force.

As he loses himself in the heat of the moment, John's muscles tense up, the familiar feeling of pure heat pooling up within him, slamming himself as deep inside you as he can before his cock starts throbbing, shooting ropes of cum with each pulse. His breath is heavy as he slowly pulls out of you, his gaze fixated on the mess of mixed fluids that coats your pretty cunt.

“My pretty girl.” He whispers out, burly arms wrapping around your body, pulling you closer to his hairy chest, allowing you to hear his fast-beating heart. His lips are gentle against your forehead, wanting nothing more than to relax with you after the intense love-making. His actions are nothing short of genuinely caring and loving, wanting to give you good aftercare, all thoughts of Simon finally out of your head.

“Want me to run you a bath?” Price asks in a whisper, planting one last kiss on your forehead before looking down, just to see your chest moving up and down slowly, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, pulling you closer to his warm, naked body so you can sleep better, deciding to get some well-deserved rest as well.

The smell of eggs and tea is what you woke up to in the morning, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. The feeling of large fabric keeping your body warm makes you look down, just realizing that John put his large shirt on your body when you were sleeping, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you get up from bed, making your way to the kitchen.

“Good mornin'.” John turns around for a second, blue eyes lighting up when he's greeted by a big smile and his shirt dwarfing your body, giving you a small wink before he's back to finishing your breakfast. You take your time to admire him, so naturally handsome and masculine, his hairy, strong body only having his boxers on.

“Thanks, daddy.” You quip teasingly as he hands you the plate, a small squeal leaving your lips when he starts to chase you around the house, shared laughs ringing around.

Dating John is a sheer contrast to any expectations you had when you first got into the relationship. Despite the fact that he's often away during missions, he has scheduled delivers for flowers and your favorite foods, calling with you the moment he's available.

“What are you doin'?” Price asks with a small smirk, his gaze softening the moment his eyes meet yours, your cheek resting on his strong thigh while he was trying to complete a report. His hand goes to your head out of pure muscle memory, giving your scalp a soft massage.

“I like you from this angle.” He lets out a small chuckle, moving his leg to make your position more comfortable as you nuzzle his leg, your chin now resting on it as you adjust your knees on the floor.

“You like me in every angle.” A grin spreads on his face, his calloused hand running down the length of your hair before resting on your back, massaging the muscles tenderly.

“True, but specially from this one.” The cheeky smile you throw his way does nothing other than to distract him further from his report of the latest mission, cupping your cheek to examine your pretty features better under the light of the room, mirth dancing in his blue eyes.

“You're clingier than my shadow.” He teases, leaning forward until his lips meet yours in an affectionate kiss, not bothered by your clinginess in the slightest. He breaks away just to give your forehead a tender kiss, staring down at you lovingly. The look of pure trust and love your eyes hold drags him back to one of the many late night conversations with Simon back at base.

“Y'like her?” Simon finally dares to ask, ignoring the growing pain on his lower stomach at the idea of you dating John, even if it was Simon's idea.

“Do you?” Price quips, already knowing the reply. There's been more than one occasion where he saw Simon stare at your WhatsApp profile picture, even if your number was deleted— he still keeps your messages, using it as an odd way of finding comfort despite the growing self-loathing from hurting you.

“You know I don't do that.” There's hints of regret spilling along Simon's deep voice, his bare fingers drumming on the cup of tea on his hand.

“Do what?” He already knows the answer, and yet.

“Love. 'M gonna get the poor girl killed.” Memories of Christmas haunt him even years later, his mind momentarily taken back to coming home just to find his entire family dead. All that blood, yet all his shattered mind was able to do was laugh even as he held a gun to his mouth.

“She'll be fine, Simon. The girl knows how to handle herself. Hell, I'm getting her a better security system soon, too.” Despite being in a committed relationship with you, John knows Simon well enough to know he still likes you, in his own way. He's seen Simon break down, seen the worst and the best of him, and eventually got to see the way he built himself back up, coming back to the SAS as Ghost.

“Wha'? You want me to date her, too?” Even if he asked it as a joke, Price's silence and the subtle shrug of his shoulders speaks louder than words.

“I know what you've been through, son. Think about it, you mean a lot to the bird.” John empties the rest of his tea down the sink, giving Simon one last pat on the shoulder before walking out of the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“I'll go get it.” John is brought back to reality with the soft knocks on the entrance door, tilting his head up as you plant a kiss on his cheek. You make your way up to the door, your heart beating inside your chest when you look through the peephole, a familiar pair of dead brown eyes staring back. There's slight hesitation as your hand goes to the doorknob, resting there for a few seconds before you decide to open the door.

“Simon?” Despite the dark hoodie over his head, you can tell he hasn't been doing well, his skin looking more pale than usual, dark eyebags making him resemble more a raccoon than a man.

“'M sorry.” He mutters, hands deep inside the pockets of his jacket, lowering his gaze with nothing but pure shame.

“That's it?” Your guarded tone makes a part of him feel proud that you're not a doormat anymore.

“No. I'm sorry for… ignoring you, and for being a cunt.” His gaze finally meets yours. You can see the shame, the regret, and the pain.

“I was scared.” I wish I could tell you I survive out there because I don't want to leave you yet. Your lips part, though you decide to be quiet for now.

“I don't know if I'll ever be able to tell you why this shite happened.” Despite the way his hands are fidgeting inside his pockets, he's trying his best to be as honest as possible while avoiding dumping his trauma on you.

“That's bollocks, mate.” Price's voice almost scares the soul out of you, turning around to shoot him an exasperated look. For a man his size, he moves with surprising quietness. You can feel his burly arms wrap around your lower body, bringing you closer to him.

“Give 'er a proper apology.” Despite the hesitation Simon feels, the space Price left open for him is all he needs. You can feel another pair of arms wrapping around your body, the familiar scent of cheap fags and gun powder hitting your nose, bringing you back to all those nights you shared.

It's an awkward hug, a mess of limbs and warmth that you finally decide to take in, your arms wrapping around Simon's narrow waist, bringing his body closer to you despite the way his muscles tense up at the sudden contact. You can feel him relax with your touch, his cheek resting against the top of your head.

“'M sorry.” He repeats in a whisper, his cold face finding shelter on the warm crook of your neck, the urge to kiss you again growing stronger by the second, though he remains respectful. You can feel John's cock starting to harden against your ass, making you look up and give him a confused look. His hand goes up to grip your jaw softly, his lips crashing against yours as he starts to subtly grind against you, only making the confusion grow.

Simon's hold on your body tightens, the familiar sensation of his lips against your neck drags a small moan out of you, muffled in John's mouth. His tongue wraps around yours, your breathing growing more labored by the second, soft hands curling on Simon's muscular back, barely able to hear the door closing until you decide to break away from the kisses.

“What's going on?” The nervous laugh that leaves your lips is only met by a reassuring look coming from Price, his calloused hand running up and down your side.

“Part o' the apology you deserve, love.” You don't even have time to answer— not when Simon's rough lips meet yours, the kiss nothing but a pure display of love and affection. Even a ghost can be a lovely thing when you want it to be.

You can feel John's calloused hands drift down to the pajama shorts you're wearing, sneaking a few squeezes on your ass before his hand sneaks past your panties, using two of his fingers to feel your wet cunt, spreading your slick all over. His lips are now busy on your pretty neck, licking and sucking freely, not caring about any love bites he leaves— he knows you don't mind either.

You can hear his hard breathing against your tender skin, your tongue dancing with Simon's, hands desperately sneaking under his shirt, groping his hard, defined muscles. You can feel the bulging scar on his ribs, caressing it with extra care just to show him every single part of his heavily scarred body is loved.

“I missed you.” Simon breaks away from the kiss only to whisper that in your ear, his rough hand already going up to your tit, squeezing the soft fat while all you can do is moan, the combined sensations of the strong men touching you does nothing but drive you closer to the edge, your wet walls tightening around John's fingers, forcing you to squeeze Simon's bicep to release some of the tension.

“Fuck, daddy—” Simon's breath hitches at your words despite knowing you're talking to John, his own cock throbbing at the slight whine in your tone. His hands go to your waist, holding you up as your eyes finally shut, your forehead resting on Simon's chest as John's fingers move faster and deeper inside you, lazily rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your knees start to buck, more whiny and louder moans leaving your lips as you cum all over his fingers, nails digging into Simon's arm.

“That's a good girl.” Price praises in a breathy whisper, delicately pulling his fingers out of your pulsating cunt, taking a second to admire the way his fingers glisten with your slick.

“Taste her.” Simon is a man with no shame. No shame at all, making eye contact with you as he starts to suck his captain's fingers, putting them in his mouth just to taste more of your sweet slick. The hungry wolf is reduced to a starving dog, a small groan leaving his lips the moment your taste is all over his tongue.

He pulls John's fingers out of his mouth once he finishes licking them clean, your mouth opening ajar when Simon's lips crash against his, your heart beating loudly inside your chest as you watch them kiss. You can see their tongues dancing together, sharing your sweet taste in a passionate kiss, Simon's grip tightening around your waist.

They break away after a few seconds, looking up just to be met by Simon's cheeky smirk. He pushes you further into the house, fingers intertwining with yours as he walks into the bedroom like he owns the place, yet in reality, it's simply something he's done way more times than he can count.

“Pretty fuckin' girl.” His hold is all but gentle as he lays down in bed, pulling you on his lap, allowing you to feel the way his hard cock bulges on his jeans, calloused hands going to your ass to make you grind against him, whiny moans leaving your lips at the friction against your sensitive cunt.

You can hear a zipper going down behind you, only making the excitement grow at the idea of seeing your boyfriend's bare body again— no matter how many times you've seen it already. Price's knees sink on the mattress, burly arms wrapping around your waist, grabbing one of your hands just to guide it to his hard cock. Your hands wrap around it, starting to rub him up and down slowly until his fingers join yours, speeding up the movement.

“Tell me you wanna fuck him.” His voice is a whispered command, a dominance you've never heard before— and one Simon has heard too many times during missions.

“I wanna fuck Simon.” You confess, your back pressing against John's strong, hairy chest as you jack him off, your soft palm rubbing against his sensitive tip, dragging a small grunt out of him as you smear his precum all over his throbbing cock. His free hand goes to your back, pushing you down against Simon as you let go of his cock with a small whine of protest.

Simon is desperate and needy— that much you can tell by the way he removes his clothes with an eagerness you've never seen before. You take your time to admire his strong body, pale skin tattered by scars, yet looking so alluring. You adjust your position as he tries to remove his pants, exchanging a small laugh at the awkward position you're in.

He looks more relaxed and honest than you've ever seen, his eyes crinkling as you're getting your shorts and panties pulled down by Price, finally resting your naked body on top of his. It's a new change of pace for both of you— Simon doesn't like to give up control, doesn't enjoy being dominated, it's too personal and vulnerable, yet for you? He's willing to try anything.

“Show him how you much you missed him.” John's soft command makes you nod your head, looking over your shoulder just to feel his lips against your back, his hand coming up to your jaw to turn your face back to Simon. Simon's calloused hand goes down to his throbbing, veiny cock, waiting until you lift your hips up to line himself up to your cunt, a low groan leaving his lips as your tight walls wrap around him, your back arching once he bottoms out.

“Fuck, Simon…” Your face rests against the crook of his neck, planting kisses all over his warm skin as he starts to fuck into you, the wet sounds of your sopping cunt and needy moans filling the room.

Simon's eyes are closed, fully taking in the sensation of finally having your naked body on his after so many months apart. His hands explore your body with familiarity, bringing one of your hands up to his face to make you cup his cheek, gentle kisses planted over and over on your thumb.

You're too far gone to notice John coming up from behind you, keeping you against Simon's body while his free hand rubs the lube all over his veiny cock, a small smirk pulling on the corners of his lips at how much you're both enjoying each other. You're dragged back to reality when you feel his tip pressing against your tight cunt, already full with Simon's cock.

“It's not going to—” Price pacifies you with another kiss on your bare, sweaty back, slowly pushing in.

“I'll make it fit.” He reassures, a deep moan leaving his lips once he manages to slip his thick tip inside you, giving you time to adjust to the sensation before slowly pushing the rest of his cock inside you, pausing once he bottoms out to give you a well-deserved break.

“Fuckin' hell.” Simon groans out, his face scrunching up at how much tighter your cunt feels now that you have two cocks inside you. His short nails lightly dig into your skin, already feeling so close to the edge despite the fact you're just getting started.

You let out a short exhale once they both start moving, cocks rubbing together inside your tight walls, the sensation of being stretched this much starting to feel better by the second, every single nerve inside your cunt being stimulated. You pull Simon for another kiss, feeling his hand coming up to the back of your head just to pull you closer, wanting to feel more of your tiny tongue licking his.

You're a mess of limbs— sweaty bodies colliding, feeling their muscles tightening up around your soft, smaller body. Simon's moans are muffled by your lips, not letting you pull away from the kiss in slight embarrassment at letting you hear the neediness seeping out of his tone.

Their hips move in a relentless rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, forcing your back to arch, only giving them a better angle to fuck into you. Price's hands go up to your soft tits, squeezing and groping as he moves faster and deeper inside you, his breath hot against your ear.

“I'm… I'm gonna cum.” You manage to whisper between moans, muffled once again by Simon's rough lips. The overwhelming sensations build within you, the familiar sensation of your muscles tensing up and fingers tingling starts to grow stronger by the second, the intensity of your connection with both men driving you over the edge.

The sensation of one of their cocks hitting your cervix over and over makes you whine softly, muscles tensing up as they sandwich your bodies between them, finally letting go, your orgasm washing over you as your walls wrap tighter around their cocks, your fingers digging into Simon's skin. It doesn't take long for them to follow after you, fucking into you as deep as they can as they release a thick load into you, cocks pulsating with each rope they shoot.

They remain buried inside you for a moment, chests heaving as they try to catch their breaths. Price is the first one to pull out, watching as their combined cum seeps out of your spent pussy before he lays down next to Simon, your warm body being pulled to the side as Simon lays on his side, his cock still buried inside you even while he's softening.

“I love you.” He finally confesses, tired eyes meeting yours for a second before shutting again as Price embraces you from behind. Your leg is resting over Simon's body, making the position a lot more comfortable as you bring his face closer to your chest.

“I love you too. Both of you.” You whisper, tiredness slowly taking over your body, not even realizing that Simon is already asleep, his face buried on your soft tits. Price lets out a small chuckle, planting gentle kisses all over your warm back, his hands lightly gripping your stomach as a way to let you know he loves you, too.

[mimikittysblog]

The Princess

Pairing: Mafia! Husbands! Poly! Ateez x Fem! Wife! Reader

Genre: Angst, a good chunck of fluff, a HINT of smut (no actual sex scenes of the sorts but they’re quite sexual towards each other)

Synopsis: If ATZ were asked what their prized possession is, they wouldn’t say what you think. It isn’t the money, the cars, the jewels, the priceless paintings or anything of the sorts. As cheesy and unexpected as it sounds, they would answer each other. Now while on surface that is true, the reality of it is their most prized possession, their true treasure, the one they don’t even dare let people know they have in true fear of it getting taken away, is you. Their Princess. So what would happen when one night, you don’t come home?

Warnings: Kidnapping, major violence, implied sexual activity, death/murder (not of the major characters), alcohol consumption, Arson, MxM of course. So because of all of this please ⚠️MNDI⚠️ if I missed anything please let me know!

Word count: 5.3k words

A/N: It’s finally here!!! My goodness you guys loved that teaser 😭 I’m so grateful for all your enthusiasm! I hope this fic lives up to your expectations!! Happy reading!! Please tell me what you think! Likes, replies and reblogs are so appreciated!

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

On one side of the outskirts of town, there is this mansion belonging to a very interesting group of people. As of this moment throughout the gargantuan mansion, the sounds of fast paced footsteps can be heard. While loud or fast paced footsteps like these weren’t necessarily uncommon.

However somehow everyone who heard them deep down knew, something was wrong.

Suddenly said footsteps came to a stop as the sound of the door to the meeting room was opened.

Then the dreaded question was asked.

“My loves, have any of you seen or heard from Princess?”

Silence.

Just like that it became nothing but silence as all discussions of work seems to halt after hearing Yeosangs question.

“Is.. she not home yet?” Seonghwa asked softly.

“Well.. I can’t find her anywhere and she’s not answering her phone…”

“What?!” Wooyoung exclaimed as he quickly pulled out his phone and called her number.

Yunho took a glance to the clock on the wall and saw how late it was.

“It’s past her curfew. She knows she’s supposed to be home by now.”

“Forget that! She knows to always answer us. And she’s literally not answering us!” Wooyoung groans after the call goes unanswered.

“She’s just supposed to go shopping again!” Jongho exclaims.

The rest of the men in the room were silent. Frozen in fear and contemplation of what happened to you and where could you possibly be.

Suddenly they hear the front door open.

Believing its you, they wasted no time and quickly rushed down. However what they find are only your body guards, bloodied and bruised.

You?

Nowhere in sight.

At the sight of their bosses, your guards quickly got on their hands and knees. A position that screams begging for forgiveness.

“S-sirs! We’re sorry! So terribly sorry!! One second we were watching over her then the next we go-“

BANG

Hongjoong had no need for useless explanations or excuses.

His Princess was taken.

All he needs now is her back.

Mingi takes the gun from Hongjoongs hand and steps forward.

He kneels in front of one of the other guards and grabs him by the hair, positioning the gun under his chin.

“Where?”

“D-downtown! The alley near her favorite Chanel store!”

BANG

Jongho then takes the gun and aims it at the last guard.

“SIR! Please no forgive me!! I will find her! I will-“

BANG

Protecting you and making sure you come home safe was these guards only job. And yet they have failed.

Now they’ve lost you and to them there is no greater sin.

As Yunho is cleaning the blood off of Mingi’s face, Seonghwa turns to the maids and the henchmen stationed in the room. Clearly terrified as they’ve never seen their bosses so angry.

“Clean this up. We want this place spotless. Not a single trace of these sinners left behind. And get everyone to work. Find her. Check every corner. Turn every stone. Use any informant we have. Use any methods you can think of. Do what you must! And Find. Her. Now.”

With that they scrambled and quickly got to work.

Your husbands then left the room. Rage and determination emanating from their very being.

They will find you.

And those that took you will pay.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

At another mansion on the other side of town, much smaller than the one he calls home, San is residing. He's currently on an undercover mission to get information they need to get rid of this nuisance of a mafia.

This other group wasn’t really a threat. No one was. However they’ve been getting on their nerves for far too long. So they intended to just wipe them out for their own comfort. Silently, quickly and deadly. Like they always do. Furthermore it’ll maybe also send a message to other groups to not pull the same stunts.

So once they got wind of how the head of the mafia likes collecting and having ‘toys' around no matter the gender they knew one of them had to play the part.

After careful consideration and discussion they agreed upon San.

No one was entirely happy with the idea. They hated the thought that San had to flaunt what was theirs and let another man touch him, possibly even kiss him.

However they knew their options to make this quick were very limited.

They all drew the line that San cannot sleep with him though. Not like San ever wanted to anyway. He would rather die before betraying his loves like that.

Thankfully San knew how to play his part well, where he was fun enough to keep around even if he had yet to sleep with the man. Plus he's too pretty of an eye candy to be let go anyway.

However he still needed to get this information quick, cause he knew he couldn't play celibate forever. The man will eventually want to force him to sleep with him.

So he needed to get out of there before that happens.

Currently San is in the living room in nothing but a fur coat and his boxers, as how the man requests all his toys to dress, with said man and the rest of his toys.

He's just drinking his whiskey as the man plays, wishing he was back home.

When suddenly the door was slammed opened and a girl was thrown to the ground.

"Sir, we've retrieved what you've asked for!"

One of the henchmen announced loudly.

San acted uninterested and nonchalant as he usually does until he glanced at and unfortunately recognized the poor girl on the ground.

..Princess..?

Why were you here??

How were you here???

You’re supposed to be safe at home with the rest!

“Ah yes. So this is ATZ’s precious treasure.” The man said with a shit eating grin causing the diamonds in his teeth to shine in the light.

He then got up and made his way to kneel in front of you. The man then grabbed your chin to make you look at him.

San almost lost it.

How dare his filthy hands touch his Princess?! So roughly at that.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Let go of me you piece of shit.” You growled at him.

“Ah ah.. is this the way you talk to the only one that can spare yo- UGH! Fucking bitch!”

Before he even finished his sentence you spat straight into his face.

In retaliation he gave you a hard slap, knocking you down.

There your eyes met San.

While to an outsider San seemed unbothered, you knew your husband. He was beyond mad. So mad that the devil himself wouldn’t dream of messing with him.

You, of course, knew of his mission. So you understood why he had to just sit there and act like he didn’t know you.

You weren’t even upset.

You missed him too much. It was such a sight to see him again.

Especially in the outfit he’s in.

So you only give him the tiniest comforting smile. Letting him know that you’re okay.

“Lock her up. ATZ will come and find her soon. They’ll make the deal to get her back. And soon I’ll be the most powerful.”

As you were being dragged away, your eyes only lingered on San.

San could only take another sip of his whiskey, with only one thought in his head.

Oh how wrong this man was.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“What do you mean you have no leads?!?” Mingi barked at the henchmen who gave him the update. Or lack there of.

“I’m sorry sir.. we’re still look-“

CRACK

“We don’t need your useless apologies. Get out there and FIND OUR WIFE. NOW!” Mingi didn’t even let him finish before hurling a heavy desk ornament straight towards his head and yelling at him again.

Bleeding from the head but grateful it wasn’t from a bullet hole, the henchmen hurriedly staggered over to give Mingi, Yeosang, and Wooyoung each a kiss on their rings that dawn their middle finger. Once the obligatory task of showing respect was done he left the room to continue searching for the lady of the household.

The room fell silent again as Mingi walks over to the big portrait of his husbands and you right in the middle. Smiling so wide and beautifully. He’d do anything to make sure that smile stays forever on your face and for him to always see it.

All of them would.

You’ve only been missing for less than 24 hours yet that’s longer than any of you have been apart these past few years without reason. Along with the fact that they knew you were taken forcibly, unease would be an understatement to describe what Mingi and the rest of them are feeling.

Then after a sigh, Wooyoung reached over and rung a bell that was on the desk. Which caused a maid with a tray of glasses and Wooyoung’s favorite bottle of liquor to enter.

Wooyoung took the bottle, disregarding the glasses and took a swig.

“Have we heard back from San? He needs to come home now. I already hated that he had to do this. Now with Princess gone, I need to know that he’s safe too. And I’m sure he’d also want to find her.” Wooyoung rambled, jittery due to the present status of his lovers are up in the air.

“We just sent the message to him. He’ll respond soon.” Yeosang sighed, trying to reassure him by also softly grabbing his hand. However he also then poured himself some of the liquor and took a sip.

Suddenly a rushed knock on the door was heard.

“Come in!” Mingi yelled.

“Sirs! A message from Sir San!” A different henchmen hurriedly walked in and dropped a small note on the table.

“Good. Now leave.” Wooyoung said.

The henchmen nodded, also kissing the rings on their fingers before leaving.

Yeosang then took the note. It was only two words but it caused him to jump up from his seat. He bellowed for whoever was nearby to come in.

“Get Captain! We need to leave now!!” He ordered firmly.

“What?! What did he say?!” Wooyoung asked also jumping up.

‘Causing Mingi to also step forward curiously.

Yeosang merely had to show them the note for them to understand.

‘She’s here.’

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Locked away in a small and quite frankly ugly room is currently where you are. Truth be told?

You’re just bored.

You wanted to go home.

Thats all.

You knew the second you were taken your husbands will bring upon hell on earth. So you’re just waiting for that to happen.

You’re not sure how they were able to figure out you were their wife in the first place though. Someone on your staff must’ve snitched. Well you can deal with them later.

Right now they just need to hurry and pick you up.

Ugh you bought such a pretty new dress to show off to them…

It’s probably ruined in that dingy disgusting alley by now.

Shame.

A loud thud can suddenly be heard outside of your locked door and it caused your heart to race. Soon the door unlocked to reveal the beauty that is Choi San.

“Sannie!!” You chirped excitedly.

You leaped from the bed only to be pulled back.

“Ugh! Stupid handcuff.” You grumbled. Completely forgetting it was there.

“Oh Princess!!” San said as he made his way to you in a flash, quickly uncuffing you. With a key you’re not so sure where he got it from. A knocked out guard possibly. No matter though.

As now with your arms free you can finally engulf your husband in a big hug once again.

“Oh my sweet darling! What happened?? How are you here???” He asked as he pulled away and checked every inch of you to see where you were hurt.

“I’m not sure my Sannie. One minute I was walking to the car then the next thing I knew these big oafs grabbed me and dragged me here. I’m fine though love! I promise! Minor bruises and scratches is all..” You explained and try to reassure him.

You knew it was in vain though as even a microscopic scratch on you will cause any of your husbands to go on a rampage.

The fact your old butler is now six feet under for giving you a small cut is proof enough.

“Princess.. you’re clearly hurt…” San said with a sigh. “We’re so sorry.. This should’ve never happened.” He apologized softly stroking the bruise on your cheek.

“Hush now my love. You know there’s only one way I could ever possibly be considered hurt. And that is if anything were to ever happen to my precious husbands. Only then. Will I ever consider myself harmed.” Pure love and sincerity lacing your voice.

A voice San truly does miss. It’s been weeks since he’s home. Oh how he misses it.

“Well it’s good to know the feeling is mutual darling. As seeing these bruises and scuffs on your precious skin brings me nothing but great agony and ignites a fire in me like no other.” He explained as he kisses each visible blemish and cut.

“Don’t worry Princess. The others will be here very soon alright? Just sit tight. I need to get back to work to avenge you darling.” Once finished with his reassurance that your husbands are on their way, he finally gives you a kiss you’ve been craving ever since he left the comforts of your home.

“Okay my love. Though do be quick. I’m awfully bored. Oh and by the way..” You start as you softly trail your hand down his chiseled body. “You should start dressing like this at home. I’m sure the others would also very much enjoy it!” You giggle as your hand made it to his crotch. Cupping it.

Oh you missed the little twitch it does so much.

“Ah yes, hmm your wish is forever my command Princess.” He replies with a chuckle. He then takes your hand and kisses the wedding band on your finger softly.

“I love you Princess. I’ll be back.”

“I love you too.”

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“Ah yes. Mr. Jeong. Welcome to my humble abode! I see my offer finally has caught your eye.”

Yunho doesn’t bother to reply before walking in.

“My, how rude you are. But very well. I’m sure you’re uneasy as.. something is missing.” The man then continues to taunt with a smirk.

Yunho’s face remains stoic, however his fist clenches a bit tighter.

“I have no time for your games.” Yunho simply states before letting himself into the mans office. Yunho then sits down and tells the man to do the same. “State exactly what it is you want. We’ll talk from there.”

The man lets out a scoff before sitting down across from him.

He then claps his hand which causes a very familiar man to walk in to bring in a tray of drinks.

“Thank you San.” The man says in a smirk, once again causing the diamonds in his mouth to shine.

San simply ignores him.

No longer seeing the need to act accordingly.

As San makes his way to leave, he gets stopped by a hand on his exposed abdomen.

“Excuse me. I don’t believe I’ve given you permission to touch my lovely toys.” The man warns Yunho.

Who is simply admiring his husband.

“Hmm… well, ‘your toy.’ Is quite the specimen I must say. Can’t seem to help myself.” Yunho says with a smirk towards San, running his hand up and down his body.

Oh lord how much they’ve missed each other’s touch.

With San’s back facing the man, he can’t see the smirk that San reciprocates to Yunho. Yunho lets out a soft chuckle before taking San’s hand and kissing his ring finger. That was unfortunately currently empty.

“Leave San.” The man growls.

San does. But not before softly grazing his fingers across Yunho’s broad shoulders.

“Odd.. he usually never lets anyone else touch him…” the man mumbles to himself softly. Too stupid to realize what’s going on.

“So you’ve stolen our Princess. Due to that you expect us to work with you. Is that it?” Yunho finally cuts to the chase.

“Well you’d do anything to get her back wouldn’t you?” The man replies cockily.

“Naturally.”

“Well then work with me. Then I’ll set her free. Simple!”

CRASH

“You’re a bigger idiot than we thought.”

Suddenly the sounds of bullets firing, screams and yells can be heard throughout the mansion.

The man, the coward he truly is, instinctively hides under the desk at all the noise. However that desks gets thrown off of him, revealing Yunho standing above him. Gun aimed straight to his forehead.

“Run.”

Without a second thought he books it out of the room. Only to be met with the bodies of his henchmen, maids and toys scattered about. Blood coating the walls and floors. He was frozen in shock. That is before a bullet goes flying near his head grazing his ear.

“AH!”

“I said. Run.”

The man once again runs, but also stupidly tries his luck and pulls out his own gun. Before he could even aim at Yunho, his gun was shot out of his hand.

“The more you try to survive. The less likely it’ll be the case. So when my husband tells you to run. You run.” Jongho simply states standing in the living room. Surrounded by dead bodies, shattered chandeliers, ruined paintings, and mangled musical instruments.

While he was devastated at the state of his fortune he was thankfully still smart enough to value his life more. So he began to rush again.

He thought that maybe he could take the shortcut that leads to his garage through his dining room. So thats where his running legs took him as bullets were still flying everywhere. So much so that he can’t tell which came from his own men and which came from ATZ.

As he made it into the dining room he was only met with the sight of his most precious car on top of his dining table.

“Oh? Were you planning on escaping with this? Hmm. That doesn’t seem possible now does it?” Seonghwa taunts while sitting on the roof of the car.

“All this over some girl?!?!” The man roars enraged of what has become of his hard work.

Seonghwa’s expression hardens in the blink of an eye. Without another word he stands and pulls out his gun then starts shooting at the man without mercy.

The man realizes his mistake too late and gets shot in the shoulder and grazed on the thigh. However the adrenaline pumping through his veins was still enough to have him dashing out of the room.

He no longer has a plan and getting slightly dazed from the blood he’s losing, he’s just trying to get out of there. He opens the nearest door to him hoping it’ll lead to an exit.

Unfortunately for him, once again he’s met with a horrible sight and sound.

“Ah! You’ve finally come to play!” Yeosang says with a smile laced with venom.

What the man has stumbled into is his indoor tennis courtroom. Where currently Yeosang and Yunho have gathered a bunch of his henchmen, somehow tied up their upper bodies, and made them into moving targets for their tennis practice.

Many of his henchmen had succumbed to their injuries and their blood has splattered and painted the walls, floor and ceiling.

Frozen in shock due to the gruesome display, Yunho took the opportunity to serve and strike a tennis ball straight to the mans face.

“Wonderful shot my love!!” Yeosang cheers.

“Your turn handsome.”

Yeosang then wastes no time before doing the same and hitting the man right on the crotch.

“Oops wasn’t aiming for that but I’ll take it.”

“I would say you got a higher score than me.” Yunho chuckles.

This man still doesn’t give up however.

Not like the boys wanted him too anyway. They always loved a challenge and this man hasn’t even payed a fraction of his sins.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

After hearing the commotion thats happening outside your ugly holding room, you knew it only meant one thing.

Your lovely husbands are finally here to pick you up.

While the man that thought he could have his way by kidnapping you was being dealt with, the door to your room opened revealing your knights in shining armor.

Oh my! They look absolutely gorgeous in their suits.

If circumstances were any different you would’ve happily have them take you right then and there.

“My loves!!!” You screeched happily and skipped your way over to them.

“Oh Princess!!!” Wooyoung exclaimed happily as he wrapped you up in his arms.

Seonghwa and Jongho doing the same.

“Are you hurt Princess??” Seonghwa asked worriedly. “Oh my you are! Oh we’re so sorry darling…” Seonghwa didn’t even let you answer.

“My loves I’m fine! I promise I’m fine! I have you here, I’m alright. Where are the others..?” You ask with a pout.

“Oh they’re dealing with pests right now Princess don’t worry. It won’t take them too long.” Jongho says with a soft comforting smile.

“Hmm alright.. are you three taking me home?”

“Yes we are darling! Come no- goodness! what an ugly room they kept you in!! Our Princess doesn’t deserve this?!” Wooyoung then exclaims when finally taking notice of the room. Genuinely upset that you were kept in such an ugly room.

“I know right?! It’s so tacky!!” You say with an eyeroll. Seonghwa and Jongho can only chuckle at your antics.

The three of them then safely brought you outside. Where you were met with Hongjoong waiting patiently on the hood of the limousine.

Also looking immensely good. As in ‘please fuck me right now’ levels of good.

Alas.

Circumstances didn’t allow it.

“Joongie!!!” You exclaim happily as you sprint to him.

Hongjoong quickly opens his arms for you. You jump into his arms as he picks you up and spins you around.

“Oh our Princess.. we were so worried. We’re so glad you’re okay!” Hongjoong sighs in relief.

“Of course I’m okay! You’re my husbands! Nothing will ever harm me!” You say with your gorgeous smile.

“You were taken sweetie.. We’re oh so sorry…”

“Oh enough with your apologies! I’m fine! I promise I’m fine! It seems like you guys constantly forget my vows! Now that hurts! You know I’m only ever hurt when you guys are!” You remind them.

“Well the bruises on your sweet body may not hurt you but they do hurt us sweetie. So that makes it hurt you!” Wooyoung explains going off your logic.

“Alright smarty pants!” You huff.

“Besides! You all bruise me constantly! Do you not?” You tease.

“Those are different love.” Seonghwa says with a knowing glance and grin. Stepping closer to you.

“You know that very well. Any bruising or scratches done to your skin that is caused by us is all because you wished for it. Done specifically for your pleasure.” Jongho says as he leans forward as well to kisses a certain spot under your jaw.

You quickly bit your lip to suppress the moan bubbling up your throat.

Once Jongho pulls away, and you’ve calmed down, you look at all of them properly and smile.

“In all seriousness I’m fine my loves. I really am. You’re here now. You saved me. Like I knew you would. What happened to me was not because of you. Someone betrayed us that I’m sure of and we can deal with that later. Now can you all just take me home?”

“Very well our sweet.” Seonghwa says with a smile as he steps forward to kiss the crown of your head.

As you were about to enter the car you noticed Hongjoong still just standing there.

“My love? Are you not coming with?” You ask.

“Not yet Princess. I need to watch over and there are things I must do. Go home with the others. We’ll be home soon.” He informs with a smile.

“Hmm very well… Don’t take too long though! Tell that to the others too! I miss my husbands!!” You grumble.

“And we miss you. No worries. Being away from you after everything that has happened aches me as much as you.”

“Hmm alright. See you soon my beloved.”

With a final flying kiss goodbye, you enter the car with the rest. You all then drive off as Hongjoong turns around and looks at the mess he intends to finish.

Back in what was once a mansion, with the help of his henchmen that are still abled bodied and loyal to him. The man that caused all of this is executing a plan of escape.

They were finally able to sneak past all of the chaos that was still happening, to the last functioning escape car they know of.

Or so they thought.

Before they could even start the car. That wouldn’t have worked anyway.

They noticed San standing in front of it.

With an expression none of them have ever seen.

“San..?” The man questions as he thought San would’ve been killed as well.

San without even thinking twice, pulls out his own gun and shoots the very last henchmen he had, dead.

Merely as second after their bodies slumped over, a fist slammed into the window of the mans side, cracking it.

“Get out.”

Laughed.

The man laughed.

Thats the only thing he can do in this situation.

Incredibly bloodied, bruised and broken.

With everything he had worked for.

Gone. In less than a 12 hours.

All because he thought he could kidnap you and get away with it.

He then finally got out and stood in front of Mingi.

Where Mingi happily grabbed him by the back of the collar and dragged him to the front of the mansion. Here he threw him down in front of the feet of his lovers that had stayed behind. Their sea of henchmen standing behind them.

Before Hongjoong even acknowledged him, he turned to San. Admiring his body that he missed as much as the others but then clicks his tongue. He grabbed the fur coat San was still wearing then asked.

“He gave you this?”

San simply nodded.

Scoffing he tugs on it more, silently telling San to take it off as he takes his own off.

“No husband of mine will wear such a cheap and ugly fur coat like this any longer.” He complains as he puts his coat on San.

Thankfully he wore the big sized one today. It fits San perfectly.

“H-husband..?”

“Yes. Husband.” Hongjoong replies still admiring San but now also running his hand up and down his body.

Now these are the touches San’s been craving for all these weeks.

“Oh which reminds me!” Yeosang exclaims before pulling out a familiar gold band.

Seeing this causes a huge smile to appear on San’s face and his eyes to light up.

As he did many years ago, Yeosang took San’s hand and slipped his wedding ring back right where it belongs. Kissing it to seal the deal.

“Hmm. Much better. Oh also! You should start dressing like this at home.” The smirk never leaving Hongjoong as he says it.

“I agree.” Mingi states.

The other lovers humming in agreement.

San could only chuckle.

“Princess said the same thing.”

“Well we must make it happen then.” Yunho said with a wide cheeky smile.

“What the fuck is going on?!”

Oh they forgot he was there-

“You really did mess with the wrong people you stupid man.” Yeosang sighs bored of the man already.

“I have a name?!”

“We clearly don’t care. And it clearly won’t matter anymore.” Mingi says with an eyeroll as he flicks open a lighter.

“So this is it? You’re gonna set me on fire?”

“Yes.” San says.

The mans eyes shot wide. Somehow not expecting the blunt answer.

“Not before you watch everything you have burn of course.” Hongjoong says as Mingi throws the lighter behind the man.

The lighter then lands in a trail of gasoline that leads to mangled furniture and fortunes that are strewn about, before leading to the actual mansion.

It doesn’t take long until everything goes up in flames.

The man watches in agony as everything. Everything. Burns. He then turns to the men and curses.

“You’ve taken everything.. literally everything. Must you really kill me too?” The man asks somehow still trying to make it out of this alive.

“I won’t bother you again… I’ll just vanish. Live a quiet life please. You won’t gain anything from killing me. You got her back!!!” He bargains.

SMACK

“Don’t even think about mentioning her again. No. Don’t even think about her. Your mind is not worthy to have her in it.” Hongjoong says after slapping him straight across the face.

“You’re right though. We won’t gain anything from your death. We won’t even gain satisfaction.” Yunho starts.

“However. We’re merely just punishing sinners.” Yeosang continues.

“Before you even bother. No. You haven’t suffered enough. Not even close. But we could’ve done much more. So consider yourself lucky. As of now at least. As we’re sure in hell you’ll suffer even more for what you’ve done.” Mingi adds with a gleaming smirk.

“You took our Princess. Your greatest sin and stupidest mistake. So for that. You must pay the price.” San explains further.

“To put it simply. You gotta die.” Hongjoong finishes as he steps forward and grabs the mans collar.

“‘Cause you being alive is still a sin in itself. Why? Well... you’re still breathing her air.”

And with that, Hongjoong merely gives him one last shove. Making the man fall back into the flames.

His screams of suffering can be heard for miles. However due to his extensive injuries it didn’t take long for said screams to just stop. Leaving nothing but the melody of crackling fire in the air.

Once that happened, Hongjoong lazily chucked in San’s old fur coat into the flames as well. Coincidentally the coat landed perfectly on the mans, now charred, body. This action actually made Yunho chuckle.

“Oh. Like he needed that. I’m sure he’s toasty enough.” Yunho commented sarcastically.

In turn causing everyone else to also let out a laugh.

“Well. Thought he might want to descend to hell wearing what he thinks is fashion.” Hongjoong reasons with a shrug.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

As the fire burned on ATZ and their henchmen just watched. Making sure everything gets burned to the ground. Took a while but it was beautiful in a way so they didn’t mind.

Once the fire started dying down the sound of a car approaching was heard.

Odd.

They were supposed to wait at home.

The car came to a halt and then the rest of ATZ exited. As they walked up to ones who were watching, the henchmen parted straight down the middle to make way before returning to position.

The rest that just arrived now stand next to the others as they also tuned in to watch the fire.

“Weren’t you all supposed to wait at home and keep Princess company?” Yeosang asked.

“Well we were. But we all missed you too much. And you know Princess loves watching the show. Plus.. she was getting needy for all of us.” Seonghwa explains with a subtle smile.

“Aaah I see. Oh! But she shouldn’t be breathing this much smoke though!” San says worriedly.

“Relax. We made her wait in the car. She can still view it well but she won’t be in harms way.” Jongho reassures before handing San a pair of pants.

“Good. Oh? What’s this? You’re not enjoying seeing me like this like the others are Jongie?” San teases.

Jongho simply rolls his eyes and ignores him. Biting the inside of his cheek hoping no one notices his flushed cheeks. Also trying to not look down at San’s bulge.

“I think he just doesn’t want to be distracted. This is the first time we’ve seen you in weeks Sannie. We missed you very much. You and your sexy body.” Mingi says as he nudges Jongho’s shoulder.

Jongho just softly nudges Mingi back.

“Just say you miss my cock.”

“We all do.” Wooyoung chirped in with a smack to San’s ass.

A couple of hours past before the fire finally dies down and the smoke begins to clear.

Their work here is finally done.

And just ust like that the car door then opens.

Then out walks you, their Princess, wearing one of your newest most lavish and expensive dress in your favorite color. You’re also all dolled up just for them.

At the sight of you exiting the car, the sea of henchmen that were still standing behind your husbands, quickly part to make way like before. However this time, they also got down on their knees, head down, in respect.

As they should.

“What a beautiful sight! Oh my loves you outdid yourselves with this one!” You praise them giddy as if you weren’t talking about the scene of a gruesome massacre.

“An appropriate punishment for such a sinner don’t you think Princess?” Hongjoong asks as he takes your hand.

“I suppose.” You hum as you stand beside him.

“Now that you’re done, can we please leave? I’m hungry!”

“Ah! One more thing before we leave!” Hongjoong announces as he walks towards the ashes.

In said ashes, there lies the skeleton of the man that started all of this. With a wide smirk on his face, Hongjoong carefully crouches down and picks up a small but very sparkly diamond from the teeth of said skeleton.

Hongjoong, smirk not faltering even a bit, makes his way back to you and takes your hand.

“What do you think princess? Shall we customize you a new ring?” He asks showing the diamond.

“Oh my! Yes please! Oh! And check for any more jewels that are left behind in these ashes and rubble! We shouldn’t let such pretty things go to waste.”

“Of course darling.” Jongho starts before turning his attention to the men that were still on their knees before you.

“You heard her.”

“YES SIR!”

Like that they all got up, bowed to you once more before rushing to the ashes where a lavish mansion once stood. In search of anything shiny that might please you.

“Hmmm can we pleeeasee eat now?” You ask with a pout.

“Yes we can our Princess. Yes we can.” Seonghwa tells you with a smile as they all lead you back to the car.

“Can we go to my favorite place tonight?”

“Anything for our Princess.”

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Bonus ending! ♡

© mimikittysblog 2024

Tagging: @faeprincess777 @starygw3n @bee-gremlin @pinkpearlstar @sweetinsaniiity @puppyminnnie @borahae-reads @spenceatiny18 @justconniez @rosydipity @vtyb23 @beccaskz @boredlol914 @ntlmundy @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @ateezswonderland @peachyy-jooniee @robertsbbygirl @hanniehq @smally97 @pixie0627 @haven-cove @jaerisdiction @btskzfav @bbyunicornbby @tinybada @cecilleasworld @mudent @mortal-advocate @jjcanwrite

Those who are italicized I could not tag for some reason :(

[onyxstyx]

ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ʙʏ ᴀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ | emperor geta

pairing: emperor geta x fem!reader

summary: the fates spin the thread of destiny, and mortals have no choice but to follow its path. you have other plans.

➺‘the fates, who give men at their birth both evil and good to have, and they pursue the transgressions of men and gods… until they punish the sinner with a sore penalty’ - theogony, hesiod ➺‘whatever happens to you has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time’ - marcus aurelius

A/N: i watched gladiator ii, devoured all the geta fics i could find (ty writers for feeding me <3) and i’m still ravenous. the man is gnawing at me from my insides so i had no choice but to get typing. haven’t written for like a yr so bear with me. if this flops it never happened xx

warnings: mention of miscarriage (not reader's), period-typical misogyny, morally ambiguous reader bc she’s fighting for her life out here. she’s just a girl fr :( YOU try being a girlie in ancient rome :/ enjoy !!

w/c: 5.9k

latin translations: fatum - fate, carissima - dear, domina - my lady

As the moon ascends in wake of the sun’s descent, the gilded walls of the imperial palace glint softly in the moonlight. Glorious tapestries line these walls, each one telling the tale of hallowed heroes, of terrible tyrants and of revered rulers. The history of the Roman Empire.

Their patterns, depicting stories of both rise and ruin, are woven by none other than the three Fates. One Fate spins the thread, and an heir is born. Another Fate weaves it, and a battle is won. The last Fate cuts, and an emperor meets his end.

As three pairs of hands work nimbly in the heavens, another tapestry begets itself in the mortal realm, where our story takes place.

From a tender age, you had been taught to believe in fate.

Fatum.

You had first learnt the word as a little one.

You’d been a curious creature, like most children are. Sheltered from the terrors of the world, your appetite for life was insatiable. You’d wake up with a hunger for new knowledge about the world around you, and go to bed still hungry for more, no matter what had transpired during the day. Thus, you found it impossible to go to sleep of your own accord - you relied on your mother’s bedtime stories to satisfy your appetite, and lull you into slumber.

Perched by your bedside with a gentle hand stroking your hair, she regaled you with the tale of Rome’s beginnings. A tale of abandonment, wolf-mothers and fratricide. Enough thrill to tire you out, she hoped. To her chagrin, she looked down to find widened eyes, without a trace of sleep in them, staring up at her expectantly. Instead, your eyes shone bright with the excitement of unanswered questions.

She sighed fondly before prompting you to talk. “Yes, carissima?”

And so the floodgates opened. You fired her with questions with all the sternness of a Roman general, and she listened intently with all the patience of a loving mother.

Why did the king try to kill the babies? Why didn’t the wolf eat the babies?

And finally, taking great care to be gentle, you placed a tiny hand on her rounded belly and asked the most burning question. Why did Romulus kill his brother? Your innocent mind struggled to comprehend it. You hadn’t even met your little sibling yet, and you already couldn’t fathom the idea of bringing harm to him. Or her, you thought, but your father had insisted that all refer to the babe as the male heir he so desperately desired it to be.

“Fatum,” was the simple answer she supplied. “Without the king’s cruelty, without the wolf’s mercy, without Remus’ death, our great city would never have been built.”

Eyes shining with knowledge yet untold, her gaze held yours. “Whatever happens to you, has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time,” she quoted, a tone of finality in her voice.

As well-loved children do, you’d lapped up your mother’s answer as readily as the twin babes lapped the wolf’s milk.

You had first witnessed fatum some years later, at the age of twelve.

On the brink of adolescence, much about you had changed compared to the little girl having bedtime stories told to her. Much except one. Age hadn’t quelled your curiosity - if anything, it had grown.

You’d exhausted all the resources available to a girl of your standing. You’d read enough philosophical texts to debate with Aristotle himself, asked questions faster than your tutors could find answers and yet, you knew there was much more that the world had to offer. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

With age had also come a newfound deviance. Observant as you were, you’d learned that there was much to be gained with certain types of information - if you knew how to use it to your advantage.

As such, you’d taken to eavesdropping on your father’s meetings with his fellow senators from behind a pillar. For weeks on end, they had spoken of a play becoming popular amongst patricians and plebeians alike. Oedipus.

At the centre of their discussion was a ploy to ban the play from being performed. Abhorrent, they had called it. A threat to their authority, if the people are led to believe that even kings are subject to a thing as fickle as fate. At that statement, your eyes twinkled with mischief and a devious smile found its way to your face - you were determined to see this for yourself.

So, on the fateful night you caught your older cousin in the arms of a man bearing no resemblance to her betrothed, you knew you’d struck gold.

Desperate to protect her reputation and far too embarrassed to berate you for sleuthing around when you should have been asleep, she’d hastily agreed to the terms of your silence. She would sneak you into the city’s amphitheatre to watch the next production of Oedipus, if you swore to secrecy.

And so your plan commenced. Hidden under the large folds of her toga, you observed the story unfolding before you. The mighty king of Thebes brought to his knees by the tragic fate he’d tried to escape, to no avail.

A real spectacle, the performance elicited emotions from you that were both old and new. In a short two hours you’d been perplexed, horrified, scandalised. You’d learned quickly why you had to be sneaked in - fate wasn’t the only mature theme you were educated on that night.

But you only came to understand fatum when it took the person dearest to you, two summers ago.

Pregnant again, the fifth time that you could remember, your mother had taken ill. Perilously ill. After years of unsuccessful attempts to produce an heir - one daughter, two miscarriages and two stillbirths - she had breathed her last. In her womb? The son your father demanded of her. The son he had longed for. Prayed to the gods for. What else could bring forth such a tragic end, if not the hands of the Fates?

Now a grown woman, the beliefs your mother had impressed upon you would soon be tested. Left with no living sons to continue his legacy and no living wife to bring forth such living sons, your father’s lofty political aspirations could only be fulfilled through his daughter. You.

Your father wasted no time in advancing his plans.

After a long day spent praying at the temple of Pluto, you had been ready to wind down and relax. A good distance away from the centre of the city and situated atop a number of hills, a trip there takes up the whole day. You had set out at dawn, and as the sun set over the Tiber river to bring forth dusk, your shadow darkened the entrance of your family villa.

Exhausted both emotionally and physically, your body went through the motions of preparing yourself for supper, but your mind remained absent - occupied with thoughts of what could have been and what will never be.

After your bath you called for your maid and allowed her to dress you, head still in the clouds. It was only when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the bronze mirror atop your vanity that you noticed something was amiss.

Your eyes squinted as you inspected the image reflected on the polished surface.

“Why have you dressed me in these garments? I wish to wear my usual attire.”

You wore a tunic, the draped garment secured by an ornate brooch resembling an owl, with eyes made of precious gems. Nothing out of the ordinary.

What was out of the ordinary, was the saffron yellow hue of the tunic — since your mother’s passing you had been in mourning and thus only wore dark colours. A fact well-known by your maid, who dressed you day and night.

The hands fastening the brooch faltered as she gathered a response.

“My apologies, Domina.” She stepped back, head bowed in deference. “I assumed you would revert to your previous wardrobe, seeing as yesterday marked the end of…” She trailed off meekly, allowing you to fill in the blanks.

The previous day had marked a year since your mother’s passing, and thus the end of the customary mourning period. As such, it would be socially acceptable for you to appear happy and content again, reflected in the abandonment of deep plums and drab greys for sunny yellows and bold blues. You supposed it was not odd for her to assume you desire to don brighter colours.

But upon closer inspection, your suspicion rose again. Detailed with beautiful patterns and made of the smoothest damask money could buy, the tunic was much too elaborate for a simple family dinner in the villa. The last time you wore it was to a relative’s wedding, where your father made a point of telling anyone who would listen just how much it had cost to import the material from China.

You poised yourself to question her further, but the words died on the tip of your tongue when you saw the pleading look she gave you.

“Please, Domina.”

She offered you no further explanation, but the fear in her eyes was explanation enough. She was not doing this of her own accord, but under instruction. And if you knew your father well, under strict instruction.

Whatever plans he had for you, you knew you would have little to no choice in the matter.

Wordlessly, you acquiesced and allowed her to continue. You did not protest when she brushed, braided and pinned your hair into an elaborate updo. You were compliant when she lined your eyes with kohl and blotted your lips with mulberry juice.

Primped and primed like a prized show horse, you dismissed your maid, sat by the window and awaited your fate.

Not long passed before the sound of a male timbre filled the room.

“It appears your outfit is missing something.”

You turned to the direction of the voice to see your father standing in the doorway. Instinctively, you stood to your feet - less as a show of respect and more because you were used to being on guard in his presence.

In his hands he held a translucent, gauzy material, sheer in nature and vibrant in colour, that was all too familiar to you.

Your mother’s favourite veil.

Usually fixed firmly atop her head during special occasions - festivals, birthdays, weddings and the like - you could recognise it from a mile away. Growing up, you had associated this veil with womanhood itself. You would traipse around the corridors of the villa with it wrapped around your head haphazardly, the excess fabric trailing behind you as you ran as fast as your little legs could carry you.

What a foreign sight it was to see it in the hands of your father. And what a foreign sight it was to see him in your chambers.

Following your mother’s passing, the two of you had not conversed beyond what was formally required of you, your already fragile relationship fracturing completely. Yet here he was, extending a peace offering. An olive branch.

Pleased as you were to receive it, you were not foolish enough to believe this to be a genuinely affectionate gesture. A politician through and through, your father was no stranger to symbolic gestures, and he had made no attempts to mend your relationship prior to this moment. This sudden generosity, paired with your extravagant dressing, could only mean one thing.

He wanted something from you.

Now, you had two options. Comply with his request, or comply with his request begrudgingly. You chose the latter, of course. Even if obedience was your only option, you weren’t going to make this easy for him.

You casted him a quick look of derision. “If you wish to barter for my forgiveness with a piece of cloth, I am afraid your efforts have been wasted.”

Unphased, he stepped further into the room.  “Now, now, peace, dear daughter. Let us be civil.” The faux humility in his tone was almost comical.

“Perhaps you feel…wronged by me for holding your mother to a certain standard. But, you must understand that I was simply fulfilling my duties, by encouraging her to fulfil her own. I have particular responsibilities to this family. As do you, now.”

You levelled him with an icy glare, wise enough not to express your discontent verbally, but too headstrong not to express it somehow.

“And even if I have, in some unfathomable way, wronged you; to err is human, to forgive, divine.” 

After knowing him for as long as you did, you knew this was the closest thing to an apology you would get. You also knew your father was a talented orator - it’s how he gained a large enough political following to join the Senate, after all. And so you prepared yourself to be subjected to one of his moving speeches.

“It is common knowledge that women are the weaker sex,” What a great way to start, you snarked to yourself. “Yet, I have always seen a unique strength in you. Not physical strength, of course, but a mental fortitude. Since you were a young girl you have been willful, stubborn,” he took a step closer to you with each word, purple-lined toga brushing the floor as he advanced. 

As he said the last word, he gave you a knowing look. “Nosy.”

You failed to hide your shock. “Oh yes, I saw you slinking around behind the pillars.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It matters not, now. In fact, whatever dregs of information you picked up from eavesdropping on my discussions may soon prove useful.”

His face was a picture of smugness, with an eyebrow cocked and the corners of his mouth upturned as if he knew something you didn’t. With just a few sentences he had complimented you (even if it was backhanded), revealed that he knew your secret, and teased you with a nugget of information. The perfect combination to make you anticipate his next words.

Silence filled the room as he kept you in suspense, mind whirring as you mulled over his cryptic words. 

One hand held your mother’s veil in front of him, while the other caressed its folds delicately. His eyes had a faraway look in them that suggested his mind had travelled to another time.

“Your mother was a strong woman. Not strong enough in the end, regrettably, but strong nonthele-”

“Don’t.” You interjected. “You will not sully her memory with your caustic words.”

His lips spread into a diplomatic smile, but the twitch of his eye betrayed the irritation he felt. Belligerent as he was, he ignored your outburst and continued. 

“Unlike her, you have the makings of a lady of great influence. Much like me, you have the mind for politics. That potential lies latent within you.”

With a gentleness you wished was also reflected in his words, he draped the veil over your head. “I advise you not to waste it, dear daughter, and suffer the fate of lesser women.”

You scoffed at his words, readjusting the veil so it rested perfectly atop your head and shoulders. “And how do you suggest I fulfil this…potential? The Senate is not exactly welcoming of women.”

Well-pleased that your interest had been piqued, he finally reveals his true intentions.

“Accompany me to the imperial banquet tonight. We will celebrate the successful conquest of Britannia.”

“I do not care for banquets, nor do I spare a thought for conquests.”

“You may not care for military conquests, but this banquet itself is a conquest of the political sort. In my experience, much more is won with words, than with swords. And tonight’s event presents an opportunity for much gain.”

Again with the cryptic words.

“Allow me to present you to the Emperors. Your face is comely enough to garner their attention, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, some men find opinionated girls like you to be charming.” 

Is he insinuating what you think he is?, you thought incredulously. Surely not.

“The Senate may not be the place for women, but the Senate is not the only facilitator of politics. Why not practice your politics from Palatine Hill?”

There was no mistaking it. He intended to make an Empress of you. Equally as curious as you were sceptical, you decided to test his logic.

“Beauty is fleeting. Charm wanes with time. How would I maintain their favour?”

“That, dear daughter, is up to you. I am certain you will find a way, formidable as you are.”

While it pained you to admit it, he was right. You and your father were more alike than different, what with your scheming and blackmailing. Besides, you were formidable. You were cunning. You were capable.

There may be greater things in store for you yet.

And those greater things began with this banquet.

Upon arrival, you were met with the most magnificent sight you had ever seen. Sat proudly upon Palatine Hill, the palace looked like the image your mind conjured when picturing Olympus. After ascending the intimidating number of steps that led to the entrance, you truly felt like you’d ascended to the land of the gods. Wherever you looked there was amazing artwork that instilled equal parts awe and fear in you. 

Look up, and there were grand arches to behold. Look to the side, and the spectacular frescoes offered a feast for the eyes. Look down, and there were beautifully designed floor mosaics you almost felt bad for stepping on.

As you passed through into the atrium, it was much the same. Ostentatiously decorated, it boasted gilded walls and glorious tapestries, each feature a testament to the Emperors’ opulence, and Rome’s riches.

But it was impossible to focus fully on the artwork with the room heaving as it was. Eyes darting from one person to another with every passing second,  you were captivated by the spectacle the hoard of partygoers presented. Something seemed to be happening in every square foot of the room, each guest having their fill of whatever their vice of choice was for the night. Wine was in abundance, giving way to loose lips, and scantily-clad whores prowled about in the shadows, giving way to loose purse strings.

You had been to your fair share of lavish affairs, but this was a whole new world of revelry.

Between the loud percussion of the musicians’ instruments, the aroma of the heavily seasoned foods and the leering gazes of overexcited men, you began to feel overstimulated. You stuck close to your father as he led you into the heart of the throng, finding comfort in the familiar when surrounded by the foreign. Better the devil you know.

Oblivious to your discomfort, he reprimands you under his breath. “Stop clinging to me like a child, lest our venture fail before it has even begun.”

You’d been so taken by your surroundings that you hadn’t registered where your father was leading you to. Now you stood in front of the two men at the centre of this affair, who were seated majestically upon a golden threaded couch. You prayed you didn’t look like the bewildered little girl you certainly felt like. 

With a grand, sweeping gesture of his hand, your father bowed. 

“Imperators, what an honour it is to partake in these…wondrous celebrations with your Majesties.”

“Senator,” one of them said, voice smooth like honey but with an edge that demanded caution. His face bore a smile, but his tone was calm and measured. “What a pleasure it is to see you.” The twitch of his eyebrow suggested otherwise. “In a more agreeable mood, might I add.” The man beside him sniggers.

More agreeable? Whatever could that mean? For the second time in one night you found yourself deciphering cryptic words. Father must have angered the Emperors, somehow. 

“And you’ve brought…” He trailed off, looking at your father expectantly.

“Yes, Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla,” with a single clap and an officious clearing of his throat he stepped to the side, no longer obscuring their vision of you. “May I present my daughter…”

You managed to regain your composure, exhibiting a grace only a lady of the upper echelons of society could possess when you sunk into a deep curtsy. Lifting your gaze, you were met with the hair-raising sensation of being observed. Not just observed – scrutinised.  

A pair of eyes, deep brown like rich soil, trailed over your form. The man that addressed your father with contempt - Geta. His brows furrowed as he took the sight of you in. Lined with kohl much like yours, his eyes were smouldering in their examination.

Another pair, red-rimmed and cloudy with the haze of inebriation, were the perfect contrast. The man that sniggered - Caracalla. With irises of a cold blue hue, they would have been intimidating if they belonged to a face other than his, what with his rosy rounded cheeks and seemingly perpetual impish grin. 

Despite their differences, the relation between the men was clear as day. Flaming locks of hair and the gold laurels that circled their heads confirmed their identities. These were the infamous twin tyrants.

But it wasn’t just the weight of their eyes that you felt. Lounging around the couch in various positions and in varying states of undress, was an entourage of courtesans. You did your best to avert your gaze, as theirs bore into you. 

And what a pleasant sight you were. Adorned with ornate jewellery and clad in the finest of silks, you were easily one of the best dressed at the banquet. Before a word had been uttered, your appearance relayed a message – you were a lady of fine stature, more than accustomed to luxury and thus, would be well-suited to palace life.

Well-suited to be Empress.

Not taking any chances, your father decided not to leave anything up for interpretation.

He began listing your virtues as if reading from a handbook - 100 Things to Look For in a Roman Wife. He spoke of your piety, your beauty, your fertility. With every trait of yours that was mentioned, you grew increasingly more irate and keeping the docile smile on your face became increasingly more difficult. 

“...and lest I forget, she is most gifted with the lyre-”

“How quaint.” Caracalla interrupted, a peal of childish laughter bubbling from his lips. “He presents his daughter’s hand as if he is lobbying for a law to be passed!”

Geta scoffed, “Or a conquest to be forfeited.”

At this, Caracalla doubled over in laughter, the overfilled cup of wine in his hand threatening to spill over the rim with every jostle of his frame. Clearly there’s a joke you’re missing here.

There’s a wicked glint in Geta’s eyes that tells you this joke has guile. 

“Three sennights have lapsed since you last stood before us, spewing nonsense about abandoning our pursuit of Britannica.” The vitriol that coated his voice strung a discordant note in the mellifluous tune of his brother’s continuous laughter. “Yet here you stand in your Emperors’ palace,” he gestured at the ongoing frivolities. “Drinking and making merry with spoils from the very war you so vehemently opposed.” 

Ah. It finally clicked. From what you had picked up from your father and his associates’ discussions, you knew that this conquest had long since been under contention among the Senators. The campaign was taking longer than anticipated, and required more reinforcements than expected. The Roman force was fatigued. At home, the starving plebeians of Rome were one famine away from revolting, and without the full support of the army, politicians relied on empty promises to appease their constituents and maintain order. Yet, the Emperors were adamant on expanding Rome’s borders.

For whatever reason, at the last Senate meeting three weeks ago your father had been the unfortunate soul to suggest that the troops should draw back. And now he stood before them at the celebration of the successful conquest, presenting you as a bargaining chip to secure his pardon. Opposing the Emperors was costly, and he decided you were going to pay that price on his behalf.

Geta leaned his head on his hands as he asked, “Tell me, Senator, what makes you think you will triumph this time?”

You watched your father’s reaction with bitter disbelief. For the first time in your life, your silver-tongued father, the man that had landed you this fate, floundered for words.

Fine. If this was the hand dealt to you, so be it. But you were going to do this your way.

“Your Majesties,” At the sound of your sweet voice, Geta’s gaze affixed itself to your face. Instantly, he was beguiled. “If I may…” 

With the slow incline of his head, you were permitted to speak. 

“I know little of war,” you feigned ignorance. “But I do know that defying the odds to bring glory to Rome is no small feat.” Preening at your praise, Geta leaned forward in his seat, a silent encouragement for you to continue. “Rome and her citizens are fortunate to be led by you, Imperators, and I am grateful to be in the presence of such wise rulers.”

His mouth spread into a self-satisfied smirk. “I bask in your praises, my lady. It pleases me to see that someone in your family has a semblance of loyalty to the powers above them” A pointed look was shot at your father. “You see, all those that oppose their Emperors,” His venomous gaze roved over the group of Senators shifting uneasily as they watched this ordeal. “Will soon learn that there is only one way for a man to wield power.” He held up his index finger for emphasis and paused for suspense. “War.”

With all the self-assurance of a man that has never truly been challenged, he stalked towards you.

“What other power can bring a man to his knees and cause him to surrender?”

“I can think of nothing greater than war!” Caracalla piped up from behind him.

“Yes, brother.” Geta held his cup of wine up in agreement. “By no other means can a man wield such power. I am sure my lady agrees?” He offered his right hand, each finger as bejewelled as the next.

The ultimatum he presented you with was clear. Kiss the ring, let all be forgiven and allow this encounter to end pleasantly. Refuse the ring, and…well, don’t refuse the ring.

But compliance was predictable, and would only get you so far. Your beauty and charm had ignited a spark of interest in him, but that wasn’t enough. You needed that spark to burst into a flame.

With swan-like grace you knelt before him and took his hand, smiling inwardly when his eyes followed your descent with rapture. You didn’t miss his quick intake of breath when you halted your movements to look up and meet his eye, lips an inch away from the stunning signet ring.

“Upon second thought,” You tilted your head as if considering his words. “There exists another power great enough to make a man kneel in surrender.” At your bold words, the hand you held tightened around your fingers until he had a firm grip of your hand. “A power so great, even Emperors are not immune.”

Gasps of shock came from the onlookers sober enough to process what they had heard.

“Impertinence!” Caracalla’s cry of protest tore you from the captivity of his brother’s gaze. 

“Forgive my daughter, she oversteps her bounds.” Your father spat the words out and fixed you with a look of warning, a late and unappreciated attempt to de-escalate the night’s proceedings.

With a wave of Geta’s hand, his words were dismissed. For the sake of keeping your resolve, you pretended not to see the Praetorians return their drawn swords to their scabbards.

You returned to the intense stare of brown eyes narrowed in… intrigue? Suspicion? You weren’t sure, but you had his attention. 

“And what power would that be?”

Your gentle smile had him entranced. “The strike of a drum, the strum of a lyre’s strings. Music, my Imperator, holds much power.”

See, while your father was busy waxing lyrical about you, you had been studying Geta closely. As he listened to others speak, his fingers unconsciously tapped the thigh of the courtesan perched on the arm of the couch. But they were not tapping any old rhythm – they tapped to the beat of the percussion in the background.

The ring your lips had puckered up to kiss was not embossed with an imprint of Mars, the god of war, but Apollo, god of music. Geta the Emperor championed conflict and violence, but Geta the man held music dear.

Rich eyes twinkled as his laugh rang in your ears. “Ah, yes. Your father mentioned your skill with the lyre. He failed to mention your humour.” He didn’t believe you.

“I assure you, Imperator, my lyre-playing is unparalleled.” You indulged him with a coy smile.

“You believe you would best our most talented musician? That your playing would put your Emperors’ finest to shame?” He challenged your claim.

“Given the chance, I would outplay each of the Nine Muses,” you asserted boldly. You rose to his challenge.

His eyes gleamed with ardour as he regarded your statement with a raised brow. “I await the day I hear you play with baited breath, my lady.”

“It would be my pleasure, my liege.”

Not risking any more excitement, you curtsied and took your father’s arm as he guided you towards the outskirts of the atrium, and away from watching eyes. He wasted no time expressing his displeasure.

“Have you lost your senses, girl? Has some strange plague come over your mind?!” He released an exasperated sigh. “You should have held that tongue of yours.”

 “Oh, and left you there, stammering like a bumbling fool? Father,” you uttered the paternal term without an ounce of familial affection. “You entrusted this ploy into my hands, so leave it there.”

Anger flashed across his face like a clap of thunder. Before he could berate you for your indolence, however, a piercing shriek stole the moment.

You pushed through the crowd to see the commotion, weaving past bodies stilled with shock at whatever it is they were witnessing. When you got to the centre, you were met with a most harrowing display of fraternal discord.

Geta lay sprawled out on the marble floor, the corded muscle of his limbs tensing as he strained to hold back the man towering over him, wielding a dagger above his head. Caracalla. 

At first glance one may have supposed this fray was borne of anger, but with the spittle flying out of gritted teeth that gnashed and snarled like those of some inhuman beast, the incoherent stream of words and the crazed look in his eyes, it was clear that he did not have full agency of his person.

The rumours were true. He was having one of his infamous episodes.

Your eyes darted from Praetorian to Praetorian, waiting for one of them, any of them to take action. Their hands rested on the hilt of their swords, hesitation rooting them to their spots. To raise a hand against Caracalla would be treason, punishable by death. To ignore the distress of Geta would be treason, also punishable by death. They were at an impasse.

The chatter of mingling guests and the ambience of the musicians’ instruments had long since stopped, leaving the grunts of the brothers to take their place. All watched on in stunned silence, revelers turned horrified spectators.

Their scrambling continued. Geta managed to hook a leg around Caracalla’s ankle, toppling him over to join him on the cold marble. Wine cups clanged as they were knocked to the ground, collateral. The cacophony of sound nearly masked the sound of Geta’s desperate plea.

“Break the spell! Break the spell!”

Moved by an impetus you couldn’t explain, you barreled further through the crowd until you reached the musicians’ corner. You grabbed the lyre from the hands of the bard (who was too focused on the ongoing tumult to protest), and started strumming the tune of a nursery rhyme favoured by Roman children both rich and poor. 

Dulcet tones and sweet symphonies echoed through the chamber as you sang of Rome’s rolling hills, of fair maidens awaiting the return of brave soldiers, of the Tiber River’s ebb and flow.

Those around you listened intently, enraptured. They stepped aside, clearing a path for you towards the quarreling brothers. You walked forward as you sang, and as you reached the last verse you stood a few feet away from where they squirmed, limbs akimbo. 

From your position you saw the exact moment the muscles in Caracalla’s face relaxed, and his body went limp. He released a weak whimper better-suited to an injured animal than the tyrannical emperor he was rumoured to be.

Eyes fixed on you over his brother’s shoulder, he dropped the dagger as if compelled. Tears began to run down his face as he wailed, balling himself up into a foetal position. When they noticed his change in disposition, his entourage took the chance to spirit him away from the room. 

The final note of your song rang out. A beat passed as everyone came to, as if they too were held captive in a trance. Then, a slow, steady clap from one became a roaring applause, your fellow guests lauding your performance as if it had been planned. 

Chest heaving from exertion, Geta used a three-legged (formerly four-legged) stool to pull himself from the floor and adjusted his toga. At the raise of his hand, the clapping stopped. Flopping back to sit on the couch, he gestured for you to come forward. His expression was inscrutable. 

Before you could scrape together an apology, or some sort of explanation, you were utterly disarmed by the grin that spread across his face. 

“My lady,” He huffed between words, still catching his breath. “I stand corrected. It appears your flair with the lyre is equally as bewitching as your looks.”  

Your cheeks heated up at his confession of attraction towards you. “It pleases me that you think of me so, my Emperor.”

“Mmm.” He hummed, dark eyes taking their time to appraise you. “The power to bring a man to his knees can be very dangerous, you know. I believe it would be in the best interest of Rome and her citizens if such power was… managed by the capable hands of their Emperor.”

The chill of deja vu ran down your spine when he extended his hand in your direction. A second invitation to kiss the ring. Most people only get one.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

As your lips made contact with the cold metal of Apollo’s face and you sealed your fate, you closed your eyes and said a silent prayer. When you opened them again, you found eyes the colour of rich soil searching yours. 

He turned the hand that gripped his and pressed a surprisingly sweet kiss to the back of it. His kisses travelled up your arm, growing more and more fervent, the plush of his lips leaving warmth on every spot they pressed against. He used his hold on you to pull you towards him until you were close enough to smell the heady scent of patchouli mixed with the subtle musk of perspiration, and count the freckles on his speckled cheeks, peeking through the layer of makeup. 

His palm ran up and down your arm repeatedly, inching further up each time.

“You will make a home for yourself here, in these palace walls.” Brown eyes gazed into yours, full of a veneration you couldn’t fathom. “And you shall be my little Muse.” 

As if the troubles of your life thus far had not been a sufficient allotment of suffering, the Fates had now tasked you with weathering the twin tempers of the Emperors Geta and Caracalla. And surviving.

Gods help you.

A/N: thank you ever so much for reading ! i'm working on part two so let me know if you want me to post it when it's done <3

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated x

© onyxstyx tumblr 2025

[prisjean]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ caleb x reader

synopsis: after suddenly arriving to a place you have never been before, abruptly a familiar figure appears in front of you. it's caleb.. but isn't he dead? what's going on? left with unanswered questions from a new caleb, you break the news that you wish to go home.. but someone doesn't let you leave..

tw: smut, MDNI +18, cream pie, sex on the desk!!, unprotected sex (pls use protection), caleb isn't letting you cum till he says so 0.<, fingering, love bites, fast but long plot before getting smut?, long smut (idk how to write smut help) you and him couldn't deny each other, he fucks you in his uniform (sorry uniforms is a turn off), slight aftercare??, caleb's arms mentioned hehe

wc: 2.2k

a/n: first smut ive ever written >:) as much as i love the sweet caleb we used to have, i also love the new possessive caleb we're getting! happy reading!

caleb’s office was a ideal display of order. everything had a place, a name, and date. he was sat at his desk, focused, his jaw tense as he worked through another report. The faint hum of the ship's engines was the only sound in the room. you had no idea how you ended up with caleb, he was just pronounced dead and now he's back with a change of character.

you stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching him in silence. he was back but things were different now.

somehow he returned with a different air about him. he’d been through something, something you couldn’t even begin to piece together. the walls he’d built around himself were unbreakable, but above that, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.

“staring won’t get you anywhere, pipsqueak,” caleb said without looking up from his paperwork, he grins to himself.

you huffed, now walking into his office. “why do you keep calling me that?” you said, slightly annoyed.

he looks up at you, his eyes dark and steady, but the grin never hesitated. “because no matter how much you try to act tough, i’ll always see you as someone who needs looking after,” he teased, his voice warm and low, savoring the effect it had on you.

a flush spread across your face, but you quickly masked it with a roll of your eyes. “...you’re crazy.”

“and you’re adorable when you’re mad,” he replied smoothly with a smirk, shifting in his chair as he focused on his work once more.

your mind swirls as you get close to him and his desk. the urge to be near him was undeniable, but the words you wanted to say were stuck in your throat. then finally, you cleared your throat.

“...i want to leave.”

the words fill the air, caleb finally places his pen down as he raises his gaze, his face stern.

“leave?” he asked, his tone darker now.

“yeah..” you replied, taking a small step forward. “i-i think i need some time to process all this. i think we need time apart before we talk about every-”

he listens but then cuts you off. “no.” he said, sternly.

you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden cutoff. “no? that’s it? just ‘no’?”

“that’s all you’re getting, pipsqueak” he said, now standing up and walking around the desk, closing the distance between you two. he was close now, he was practically hovering over you, his uniform feeding an undeniable aura. “you’re not leaving. you belong here, with me.”

you pout to tease, taking a step back as if trying to put some distance between the two of you, but he catches and fills the space. “you can’t just decide that for me.”

“i’m not deciding,” he replied, his voice softer now, yet filled with a calm authority. “i’m reminding you. you have me and i’m not going to let you walk away from that.”

a part of you wanted to argue, to push back harder, but another part, the part that had always known this man in front of you, found him irresistible.

you cleared your throat, trying to be stable. “well..aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” you said, having teasing smile. “all this positivity is blinding.”

caleb’s lips quirked into a small, knowing grin. “you don’t seem too upset about it.”

“maybe cause i’m just used to you,” you shot back, stepping closer until you were mere inches from him, your breath mingling in the air between you. “though i do think you could use a little loosening up.”

his eyes darkened as he stared down at you, the playful challenge evident in his gaze. “oh?”

“yes,” your smile widens, feeling the familiar tension between you spark to life. “maybe it’s time i show you what happens when you’re not in control for once.” you tease again. you didn't know if you were teasing caleb just because you wanted to leave or because you couldn't deny him.

his expression didn’t change, if anything, it only deepened, a flicker of desire in his eyes as he still hovered you even while standing.

“pipsqueak.” he murmured, his voice a quiet growl as his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his fingers pressing into your sides with just enough force to make you gasp.

“yes..caleb?” you teased, your heart racing as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze.

without another word, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both commanding and tender. his hands slid down to lift you up. you let out a soft gasp as he cleared the desk in a single movement. papers scattered to the floor in a careless motion, already forgotten.

he set you on his desk, his body close as he leaned over you, his breath hot against your ear. “you’re not leaving,” he whispered, his voice low and full of meaning.

you lock eyes with him, panting. “You’re really stubborn, you know that?”

“..and you love it,” he replied, his lips brushing against yours once more, the kiss deepening as his hands roamed to the buttons of your blouse.

his eyes look up at yours, his fingers gliding over the buttons of your blouse once more. "is this okay?" he asks, in a tone that reminded you of the caring caleb you once knew and learned to love for so long.

you nod, letting a slight flush roam your cheeks as he unbuttons your shirt. his eyes glances over each button being loose, his yearning and desires seeping through his expressions. in a shift motion, he brushes your blouse off your shoulders, leaving you with just a bra. caleb leans himself to plant tender kisses on your neck, leaning down towards your collarbone. the way he kissed your body was soft and loving. you really believe the old caleb is still in there.

as caleb continues to switch kissing your neck and your collarbone, he unclasps your bra, taking it off gently. he looks at your buds before taking one in his mouth and plays with the other, leaving you drown in ecstasy. caleb leads his lips a little above your swollen bud to suck and bite, leaving a red mark. he enjoyed the gasp you let out so he continues to leave more marks of his on both breasts, leaving you in a whimpering mess.

"mm.. caleb..", you wince.

he pauses, "mmh..i can't stop" he pants. "i need you now" he purred. you cup his cheeks, flushing at this point.

"then show me.." you cooed. he takes you up on that offer and steadily takes off the hem on your pants. he continues to slide down your pants and then your panties, throwing them to the side. you looks up and down at you, taking in every sight. "you're so beautiful.." he says. he continues his mission as he drags his hand down to your bare slit, never losing eye contact.

"fuck princess.. i barely touched you and you're already so wet" he teased with a grin. you squirm under his touch and felt his finger skim through your pussy lips, enjoying the wetness before rolling circles on your clit. you continue to squirm under his touch. you had used your arms to support your body on his desk but now he was practically plowing two fingers into you, all his touching led you lose balance so you decided to hold onto caleb's arms, feeling the fabric of his uniform. you kept moaning under his fingers while smelling his rich cologne. you missed that smell.

caleb continues to move his fingers against your walls, you clench him each time he moves himself up. his gaze softens, looking up at you. "you okay, princess?" he lowly says. your head and hands dig into his chest and muscles but you manage to whisper. "yes... please keep going caleb..". he nods and continues working his fingers, now not missing to aim your sweet spot. you throw your head back and your moans fill the air in his office as you slowly start to arrive your peak. at this point, you grind your hips, helping his fingers push into you more.

he captures your lips again in a sloppy kiss, his breath hitching and smooching noises echo the room after. he pulls away, "ugh..god, princess..." he groans. "mm not yet.." he teases, gaining his composure. "i'm not letting you cum yet" a devilish smirk appears in his face. he gently pulls his fingers out, leaving a low pop sound. he unbuckles his belt and unzips, freeing his erected cock. his tip already seeping with precum.

you lean your pelvis forward, you want him to take you already. you wanted to cum already. he pulls your legs to wrap around his waist, then grabs his heavy cock, making it hover over your wet begging cunt. he continues his teasing when he gives your erected clit taps.

"caleb...please" you pleaded him. letting him feel so in control. one of his secret fantasies was him taking power over you and to hear you beg him to fuck you. now he has his fantasy fulfilled.

you wiggle your hips, panting. "alright alright" he chuckles. " you've been such a good girl, taking my fingers. i guess ill give you what you want." he gently pushes his cock in, using your wetness as lubricant. you and him share a gasp at first contact.

"fuck.." he cries out. "you're so tight, princess" his hand continues to hold your waist while his other grips the edge of his desk, drowning himself in you. this was better than what he has envisioned. he leans down on your shoulder, pumping himself in and out of you. he could barely handle himself in front of the woman he's loved for his whole life. you arch your back, legs trembling at how big he was.

"oh caleb... caleb..." you continue to purr his name in his ears. hearing you gave him every right to continue pounding faster inside you, drowning himself in the wetness of your walls, also letting his cock give your cervix kisses.

"c-cum for me... on me..", he grunts, his voice hitching and his forehead showing a sweat. after a while, you felt yourself approaching. "caleb..m'im cumming..", with that announcement, your body tenses up as you cream on him, whimpering after every drop.

caleb sighs heavy at your ecstasy, enjoying every bit. this turns him on as he fastens his pace, almost near his end aswell. it wasn't long after till he also made his own announcement. “i-i’m gonna come,” caleb muttered, eyes squeezed shut, his pants getting heavy. now his grip on your hip and his desk hardens as he releases himself inside of your cunt, his thighs shook, his eyes rolled back in their sockets. he wanted to groan out his orgasm, but he suddenly remembered where they were, so he bit down on your shoulder, moaning quietly as he pulled out of your beautiful filled up pussy, spilling his some of his cum all over the tile floor.

He stood with his dick in his hand before zipping himself back up, trying to contain his composure, panting heavily, eyelids fluttering.

the air became still again, the quiet hum of the ship’s engines in the distance, a constant reminder of the void beyond these walls. caleb leaned forward, his forehead brushing against yours as you both caught your breath. his hands, once with a hard grip, now rested gently on your waist, his thumbs traced soothing circles over your skin.

as he lets you take a breath, caleb leaned back, his purple pinkish eyes scanning your face with a tenderness that left you breathless in an entirely different way. he unzips his uniform jacket, his movements deliberate and careful. “here,” he murmured, wrapping the jacket around your shoulders, giving you comforting look while covering you as much as he can. his jacket still lingered of his smell, something grounding and uniquely caleb. his fingers lingered at the edges, brushing lightly against your skin.

you looked up at him, your gaze softens and your body and heart still vulnerable. his eyes held a depth you hadn’t seen before, like he was memorizing every part of you, committing to never forget this eternal moment.

he leans down to press a delicate kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there for longer than necessary. when he pulled back, his voice was low and steady.

“you’re my everything,” he said softly, his hand caresses your cheek. “more than I deserve, more than I ever thought i’d have.”

your throat tightened, a lump forming as his words settled over you. you could a flush coming onto your cheeks once more.

he gave you a small, reassuring smile. “i’ll explain everything soon. you deserve that, at the very least. but for now…” he brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch impossibly gentle. “just know i’m here. i’m not going anywhere.”

you nodded, leaning into his touch as tears pricked your eyes, the emotion of the moment nearly overwhelming. caleb held you close, his arms wrapping around you as he whispered one final reassurance.

“you’re safe with me. always.”

[s6rine]

NO STRINGS ATTACHED

main masterlist

LOOK UP IN THE SKY! IT'S A BIRD, IT'S A PLANE— WRONG... IT'S MEGUMI?!

SYNPOSIS : yn, an ordinary girl with a love for spiderman and a part-time job at the local record shop near campus, unknowingly catches the attention of tokyo’s (in)famous masked vigilante after a chance collision. who is this spiderman beneath the mask, you ask? none other than megumi fushiguro—the very “nonchalant”, yet talented guy who works at the skate shop just down the street. will the infatuated spiderman fangirl be able to find out his secret before it sends her into a spiral of unanswered questions?

STATUS : HIATUS

WHO : spiderman!megumi x fem!reader

TAGS : spiderman megumi, haha skater & (ear) pierced up megumi cuz i say so hahahahah, college au, not spiderman lore accurate (no canon events or whatever), kms/kys jokes, characters r most likely gonna be ooc, smau, crack, fluff, everyone is aged up, drinking/smoking mention probably, strangers to friends to lovers, modern au, cursing suggestive references/jokes, angst maybe at one point, lol maybe one sided hate at one point hahahaha......... ha??? who said that 😥, pining at one point be warned mwahahah CONTENT WARNING : each chapter will have their individual warnings ! (lowercase work intended)

AUTHOR'S NOTE : sigh if u think you've seen this before you probably have because i made a fanfic with the exact same slight(??) premise but then my friend deleted everything on my acc so !!! #wehateuhana anyway idea very heavily inspired by my goat @chososcamgirl god bless u girla (please please PLEASE!!! Go check out her super awesome CURRENT FANFIC and her UPCOMING ONE i was inspired by!!).... chapter names r honestly just based off of the songs i had on repeat while writing AUTHOR'S NOTE PT.2 : also i'd like to say i did get inspired by other fanfics i have read so if u notice smth seems similar to another fanfic lmk !!!! I CAN'T FIND THEM KMS TAGLIST : open , comment or send an ask to be added ! : )

PLAYLISTS : ( intros ! )

YN'S GROUPCHAT : hw for first year advance classes MEGUMI'S GROUPCHAT : yuji hate group

SINGLES : ( extras ! )

A-SIDE : yn's closet | megumi's closet B-SIDE : main playlist | record shop aux | lore drop

TRACKS : ( chapters with a ﹟🎙️next to them include writing ! )

TRACK ONE : lover is a day | ﹟🎙️

TRACK TWO : no. 1 party anthem

TRACK THREE :

TRACK FOUR :

dividers & "no skateboarding" sign by me ! : )

[girlsloveupdates]

GL airing in 2025 (so far)

Only You (original plot)

The series mixes action and adventure, with Tawan, a bodyguard in charge of protecting Ira. The romance between them grows amid threats and dangerous situations, creating a plot full of action and emotion. (summarised by @lesbicine)

Watch the official teaser here.

The Dragon House (novel adapted)

The Dragon House tells the story of Fei Long, heiress to the feared Dragon Fire Gang, who needs to form an alliance with Wang Li Ming, the successor of the Jade Lion Gang. Together, the two face rivalries and tensions, and the chemistry between them promises to heat up the plot. (summarised by @lesbicine)

Watch the official teaser here.

Buy My Boss (novel adapted)

Recent graduate Manfan is facing numerous problems: her family's bankrupt; she's been dumped; everything's gone downhill, dragged down to the abyss. Wanting nothing more than some release, she hires an enchanting escort named Araya who reassures her that good things are coming. Who would have thought that later, when she takes on an important job, would she meet her boss Issara, and would come to learn that Araya and Issara are one and the same?

Watch the official teaser here.

Us (novel adapted)

Dokrak decides to take a gap year to find herself after finishing high school. She has a part-time job at a coworking space coffee shop. It's here that she crosses paths with dentistry student Pam who’s a regular at the café to hit the books. As she gets to know Pam, Dokrak develops a crush. When her brother, however, meets Pam, he falls for her at first sight. Kawi turns to Dokrak, asking her to play matchmaker. Because she loves him and wants to see him happy, Dokrak begins coaching him. As time goes on, however, she finds herself unable to ignore her growing feelings for Pam. Before she knows it, she's fully in love and Pam is Kawi's girlfriend.

Watch the official teaser here.

Reverse With Me (novel adapted)

Amid the intricate waltz of time, Kliaokhluen's life was spared seven years ago by a mysterious medical student Karan who possesses the power to manipulate time. Saved from the brink of death, Kliaokhluen found her life purpose, yet the only remnant of her savior was a name. Haunted by an unfulfilled connection, Kliaokhluen embarks on a relentless quest for Karan. She pursues a medical degree to follow in the footsteps of her enigmatic savior until fate takes an unexpected turn when, amidst the frantic urgency of the emergency room, their paths converge once more. Karan emerges, not as a fellow student but as a cold and distant cardiothoracic surgeon. Kliaokhluen, now a seasoned sixth-year medical student, struggles to bridge the gap, yearning for acknowledgment and understanding. As the lines between past and present blur, secrets unfold, revealing a complex accident from years ago and the icy demeanor of the woman who holds the key to Kliaokhluen's unanswered questions. Will Karan remain indifferent, refusing to recognize her unique ability to control time, or will their intertwined destinies finally unravel?

Watch the official trailer here.

Shades (original plot)

The series takes place in a chaotic all-girls school. The students, who are expected to be well-behaved, are rebellious and break the rules.

Watch the official teaser here.

No Romeo (original plot)

The series follows two friends. As their feelings evolve, financial and family issues come into play, bringing complication and depth to their relationship.

I’m Your Moon (novel adapted)

In the Buddhist year 2456 (1913), social rank and tradition bars the love between two princesses. Her Serene Highness Princess Phiangrawi and Her Serene Highness Princess Sasinapha are like sun and moon; they may never exist side by side. Nevertheless, their unfulfilled love and heart's wishes weave them a path back to each other. By the Buddhist year 2564 (2021), a new era has dawned when they fall back into one another's orbits. Katsakorn and Athitthan happen to meet and love blossoms in their hearts once more. The path to love, however, is never easy. The two must join hands to fight for it. Even without the veil of tradition barring them, the treacherous tale from the past still has a hold on their present.

Girl Rules (original plot)

The series follows the messy lives of six women. These women all follow different career paths, however are all still intricately linked with each other. Some are friends, ex-lovers, soon-to-be lovers, rivals or are in a situationship.

Watch the pilot trailer here.

Whale Store XOXO (novel adapted)

A repair girl meets the owner of a grocery store owner who needs help saving her business from going under, and they end up falling in love.

Watch the pilot trailer here.

Let’s Kick This Love (original plot)

The plot follows two main characters in an action-packed, adventure-filled story, with Senam in the cast, playing an important role in the plot. (summarised by @lesbicine)

Stuck With Me (novel adapted)

The plot revolves around Maitree and ManMek. One of them has the ability to stop time for 10 minutes. The plot mixes romance and mystery, with a good dose of tension, as the professional issues of both generate emotional complexity and the control of time can bring dramatic twists and turns. (summarised by @lesbicine)

Clairebell (novel adapted)

Belle Lalita was arrested on drug possession charges, even though the drugs weren’t hers. However, with the overwhelming evidence against her, her lawyer argued that there was no chance of winning the case, even if they fought it. Reluctantly, the young woman accepted her fate and stepped into prison, sentenced to fifteen months. However, life inside prison for Belle was far from peaceful as she had expected. She became a target of a powerful group within the prison, a group so influential that even the warden turned a blind eye to their actions due to mutual benefits. Belle had no other choice. Her last hope for survival lay with Claire, known as "Nineteen Scars," a notorious inmate whom no one dared approach. Amidst the storm of her life, while being confined and stripped of her freedom, Belle gradually began to feel the kindness hidden within Claire. Similarly, Claire started to learn how to empathize with others through Belle. "Love" slowly blossomed behind the towering prison walls, despite the increasing obstacles from both the powers within the prison and the outside world that had not been completely severed.

Somewhere, Somehow (novel adapted)

A hilarious and heartbreaking love story about a talented female engineer and her beautiful, fierce, and brutal female vice president that will make you smile, laugh, and cry with it.

[ohimsummer]

JUST LONELY, BUT SO FREAKY ft. SUGURU GETO

— minors dni, suguru x fem! reader, slight religious talk, established rs, satoru cameo, spanking, dryhumping, lots of kissing, fingering, take a shot every time I say ‘ass’

⭑ ࣪ ˖ sum’z notes.ᐟ sequel to LOWKEY, SHE’S SO SWEET

wc 2.3k

One peck. A second. Then another, and another. Geto can’t help the grin that forms under your barrage of affection, kisses peppered all over his jaw, cheeks, and nose. His hands rub over your plump waist, pull you closer into him as you giggle at the red tint starting to wash over his cheeks. You readjust, elbow sinking into his mattress, to sit up for a slightly better angle of attack, another low, mischievous laugh flowing between your teeth.

“Enjoying yourself?,” he asks, closes his eyes as you plant a kiss to his forehead.

“Someone definitely is.,” you tease and throw a leg over his hip, shuffling closer to destroy any spare inches between you two. “But yes, I suppose I do like kissing a pretty face.”

“You and me both.” And Geto presses soft lips to your own. He lingers for a second to stare into the hues of your eyes, narrowed beneath the upturn of your smile, before layering the corners of your mouth in a quick succession of kisses. A small wave of giggles bubbles up at his affections, ones that mix with quiet moans as Geto soon trails lower, down to your neck and collarbone.

“Suguru, that tickles.,” you pant into his hair, angling your neck for more. “Silly.”

He only hums in return, nibbles on an especially sensitive part of your neck and you feel him smile as you squirm next to him. Your whine of ‘Suguru!’ goes unanswered, only prompting him to grab you by the hips to straddle him. His hair splays out in a halo on satin pillows, giving Geto a heavenly look akin to a god—your god—alluring eyes never leaving your own.

“This is a pretty precarious position for you, isn’t it?,” you lower yourself to lay on his chest. Playful fingers thread through the dark locks of his hair.

“Hm? How so?” His eyes never leave yours, a game of chicken.

“Ohh, I don’t knoww.”

Suguru seems unbothered when you grind your pelvis against his; even through his sweats, you can feel the thick outline of his cock under your pussy, which is only growing wetter by the second. The splash of red on Suguru’s cheeks spreads further when you lean forward to plant another kiss on his chin, rubbing your body up and down his own. Your hands are eager to touch him, ducking underneath the hem of his sweats to rub at his v-line, teasing the edge of his boxers before you’re trailing them up and over his toned torso again. You feel your boyfriend tense as you give a cheeky jiggle of your ass, but before you can tease further, he lands a resounding smack! on your rear.

Jaw going slack, you sit up immediately, pressing yourself into his lap and mildly registering the faint hardness beneath you. “Naughty!”

“Behave.,” he says, eyeing the incoming pout on your face. Both brows shoot up as you give another small, tentative wiggle, and Geto raises a hand to hover over your behind. “You want another one?”

The fact that you don’t reply immediately, and instead turn to study the threatening hand above your ass pushes Geto to question you. “You gotta think about it, love? Don’t tell me this is turning you on.”

You finally snap around to look at him. “Wha–? It is no—!” Another smack forces a surprised moan from your lips, and Suguru rubs over the sore spot of your flesh. “You’re so mea–“ A squeeze, which prompts your yelp. “Suguru!”

He thinks this might be his hardest battle yet, fighting back the grin tugging at his lips. One hand kneads at the globe of your ass, the other moving to the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss. Geto gives you another brief peck on the mouth, shortly taking in the sight of your plump lips before guiding them to his, eager tongue swiping over your bottom lip. You make a show of denying access for him and Geto gives a low grunt, a warning as he nips at you again.

This time, you part your mouth further to let him aside, allowing Geto to slip his tongue into the warm bay of your mouth, massaging it against your own. He feels so good, you feel so good, the way he can feel your stiff nipples poking at his bare chest through the fabric of your (his) shirt, your slow, leisurely ruts against the bulge in his briefs.

“Feel good, darling?” He breaks away to murmur teasingly against your lips. A low snort from him in reply to your absentminded ‘mhm’. “Yeah, I can tell, you’re soaking straight through to my dick.”

Your eyes snap open at that comment, brows raised and you pull away, but not too far. “You liar! I am not.”

“Oh?” His fingers dart below the hem of your shorts, brushing your bare pussy since apparently you’re not wearing any panties beneath. “Dirty girl. Let’s see then.”

You sit upright again to watch Geto’s hand disappear beneath your bottoms, hole involuntarily clenching as his fingers slip between your folds. Fingers run along the expanse of your pussy, coating his digits in wetness as he prods at your entrance before brushing a finger against your clit. He watches, waits, stalls and you decide to take matters into your own hands when you press down onto his idle finger.

“Needy.,” Geto chuckles. “Must be going too slow for you, doll. Couldn’t wait, hm?”

“No.,” and you brace hands atop his chest, descending until noses are brushing and you’re lost in a calm storm of purple. “Please touch me, Sugu, please. Stuff your fingers in your pussy, I want it.”

And he wants to edge you a little longer—you’re so cute with a river of tears down your cheeks and a wrenching grip on his shoulders, like you want to tear straight through him if he keeps toying with you any further. But Suguru’s dick also strains against his pants at your dirty words. You know just what to do and say to get him riled up, fluttering your lashes at him so sweetly, grazing your lips on his in such a tantalizing way as you’re begging him to fuck your pussy up—you might as well be the apple in the Garden.

You pull away just as Geto leans in for a kiss, but your little fun is short-lived as he gives a pinch to your clit, forcing a sharp whine out of you. His fingers are languid on the swollen nub, circling it and drawing sloppy, obscene noises from your soaking pussy. He engulfs your lips in a heated kiss, swallowing your moans and hand keeping pace with the grind of your hips. ‘Suguru…feels s’good’ you mewl into his mouth, pressing closer to him and nails leaving angry marks on his broad shoulders.

Geto relaxes into your hand, one you’ve moved to cup his cheek, and loves the gentle caress of your thumb on his skin. He places a kiss on your wrist, any skin his adoration may reach. His palm knocks against your aching bud, fishing out whines from the depths of your throat. Suguru chases your lips whenever you break away to whimper his name— it’s like a prayer in the clouds, an exposure of your desire.

The kiss is magnetizing, but you barely find it in you to catch your breath, blinks slow and heart pounding beneath your heaving chest. Geto’s tongue darts over his lips, fingers still circling your clit to draw pretty little sounds from you that make his head spin. ‘Oh…f–fuck..!’ Your head tilts back, still fucking into the palm of his hand. Frustration and arousal boil in the pit of your stomach, because you want more. Your boyfriend’s an expert with his fingers, but you wish he’d put them inside you already, get rid of this empty feeling in your cunt. Geto can clearly tell what you want by the adorable frown on your lips, but he’s given you enough mercy for today, and he wants to hear you say it.

“Suguru, ah!” He runs a hand up to tweak your nipple, prompting a loud moan from you. “D-don’t, G–od! Again, again!”

“Not so loud, love.,” he chuckles, but makes no move to stifle the lustful sounds, nor stop his assault on your pussy. “You want to wake them up?”

Them being his roommates, but honestly, you really can’t find it in you to care, not with the way he’s still massaging your clit. His fingers grow restless, gripping at your tit before running to sink into the fatty flesh of your ass again. The sentence goes straight through one ear and out the other, barely registering a single word besides ‘want’ and you can’t wait any longer, you beg for him.

“Please put your fingers inside me, Sugu, fuck, fuck—!” Your eyes roll back, lids clenching shut.

The heavy hand on your behind controls the rut of your hips. His dick aches beneath his sweats, the only relief being the grinding pressure of your ass against his drooling length that stains his pants. Geto slides a finger lower, replacing his index with his thumb, teasing over your slick entrance, coaxing a finger inside. Your movements slow, and your mouth falls open. A choked whine escapes you, and your walls squeeze around Geto’s intruding finger, inviting him inside with intent to keep him there. ‘Oh, Suguru!’, you moan out. He gives your ass another smack, squeezing your cheeks. Head growing foggy at the desperate thought of your walls milking his cock.

Geto doesn’t give you time to adjust, stuffing another finger in, and another until you’re stretched out on three, large digits, forcing their way amidst your wet, cushiony walls to rub at that spongy spot — the one that makes stars burst behind your eyes and flashes of white cross your vision. His bruising grip on your ass doesn’t let up unless it’s to layer another smack on the sore skin. The mixture of pain and pleasure has you clutching, spasming around him, whining Suguru’s name as your legs grow tired. You lean back to rub at his hardened dick, and he hisses as you jerk him off through his pants.

“Ah, fuck, good girl, just—, shit, just like that.,” he praises you as his own release approaches.

You squeeze his tip and, with loud gasps, you’re both cumming together. Cum gushes out around Suguru’s fingers, into his palm, his own seed tainting the fabric of his boxers and seeping straight through to his sweats. With stuttered breaths, you collapse on top of him, and Geto gives your ass one last squeeze before wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you tight. He drags his fingers out of you, panting as he eyes your orgasm dripping between his fingers, and he raises the hand in the air. Your eyes jolt open at the pain of a hard slap to your ass, sending ripples through the flesh, but you’re so tired all you can do is half-heartedly pound a fist on his chest.

“Asshole.” The insult comes out a breathy huff. “You play so much.”

He gives you a smile, one that could never allow you to be truly annoyed with him. “See, if I was really an asshole, I wouldn’t be about to get up and start a shower for us.”

“You’re still an asshole for leaving me here to be cold.,” you fire back.

“Even if it’s just a few minutes?”

“Minutes, years, it all feels the same when I’m suffering from lack of your presence.”

You let Suguru slip out of your grasp, with much hesitation, and he quietly goes out the door. “I’ll be back, ya sappy lil’ drama queen. Try not to suffer too much without me, yeah?”

He grins at the sassy poke out of your tongue, treading quietly down the hallway towards the nearest bathroom. It’s dark, save for a small glow of light beneath the door of the room nearest his, Satoru’s bedroom. As he passes, he spots his best friend on the bed, transfixed on a movie displayed on his laptop. He leaves him be, continuing down a few more feet until he’s in the bathroom, and adjusts the water before making his way back to you.

“You still alive in here?,” Geto whispers to the lump beneath his sheets.

“Barely.” Your voice is muffled, hand flailing out until you find Suguru’s warm one and interlace your fingers. “Carry me, please?”

“Of course, darling.”

Morning arrives and, surprisingly, Gojo is first to step foot outside his room. He’s usually second to wake up, third if Shoko hasn’t spent the night drinking. It’s a little lonely, being by himself with only the noise of milk and cereal being poured into a porcelain bowl. That is, until someone else arrives.

“Suguru!,” he rasps a greeting to the other man, who’s shirtless and sporting scratch marks all over his arms and back. “How’d ya sleep?”

“Like a rock.” Or maybe a pebble, Geto had a tendency to awake once or twice in the night. But after the…activities you and him had gotten up to last night, he slept a little better in your arms.

“Must have been nice.” Gojo muffles out a sentence through bites of cereal. “I barely got any sleep, you and your company were making so much noise.” Suguru narrows his eyes, leaning against the table as Gojo continues. “Where is she anyway, don’t tell me your one night stand left before you even woke up?”

Before Suguru can respond, an insult on the tip of his tongue, there’s a small shuffling that catches his ear. As it grows louder, Gojo notices as well, and both men’s eyes widen when you come stumbling into view, using a fist to rub sleep from your eyes.

Suguru’s shirt still hangs loose on your frame. “Are you an asshole in your dreams, too? Just 24/7, Gojo?”

He watches, mouth agape, as you scoot over to Suguru, teetering against his shoulder and letting out a big yawn. Geto stabilizes you with an arm around your waist, embracing you in a side hug and resting a chin on the crown of your head. Suguru looks back to Gojo, whose spoonful of cereal hovers over the bowl.

“Nope. She’s right here.”

tagz: @anthoosies @apatauaia @b-b-b-my-b-f-f @getouolgy @sataraxia @leilalilox @babytoshiii @sugu-love @akumicchi @sugojosgf @k-cris @soraya-daydreams @triviahct @reiluvr @venzlenes @sttoru @bubblez-blop @luvvmae @ciggyy @starlightanyaaa @staryukis

[world-of-aus]

Hot Shot

Pairing: NHL!Photographer!Reader x Hockey Player!Bucky

Warnings: Bucky being a heartthrob.

A/N: I've been reading one to many hockey romances and well here we are scratching an itch. I know I would like to eventually come out with a bigger story for these two but for now this is just the start a taste if you will. I'd like to leave this open to suggestion of what y'all would like to see or know about these two if anything.. Hope you enjoy the first taste.

You barely had a chance to unlock your screen to reply to her message before her caller ID

was taking up your screen, a recent photo of her and Steve that she had made as her contact picture pulling a smile onto your lips.

“Tasha.” you answer.

“Y/n, listen I know you were just planning on watching the game from the comfort of your living room but I mean talk about an upgrade! From a television screen to being at the actual game on the floor behind the safety of the glass getting some wicked shots, and no one captures action shots like you do - I promise I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.” she tacks on her voice pleading.

You chuckle, you know had the circumstances been different she’d be one of the first ones at the arena, she hadn’t missed one of Steve’s games yet, not since you had been signed on. “Natasha relax, you know you don’t have to pull out the stops on me, I'll go - do you want me to send you the photos?”

The redhead turned blonde breathes a heavy sigh of relief, “oh god thank you! and if you don’t mind, but take your time, I’m sure a certain bruin's player is going to be demanding your attention after the game especially if they bag a win.” she teases seemingly mentioning the man in your DM’s.

Your cheeks warm, the unread notification from the player she speaks of appearing in your mind, “please Tasha,” you deflect, “it’s the game of the season he’ll have plenty of attention with all the puck bunnies sporting his name on their jersey throwing themselves at him for an inkling of his attention.” you murmur picking at an invisible speck of lint on your sweater as you stand from the couch, intent on getting your things packed to head out.

“And yet he only seems to want yours,” she sings, “you should totally wear the jersey I got you for your birthday.”

You roll your eyes smile pulling at your lips, “is your flight really delayed, do I have to text Steve?”

Your friend laughs, “unfortunately it is and hey thank you again for this, I owe you, love you, oh and send me a picture of Steve, one of you and Bucky too!”

You shake your head as your friend rushes out her farewell your screen now gone black as you look down at it “looks like pjs are out of the question for tonight” you murmur continuing on through your apartment to grab your things Bucky’s text still sitting in your messages unanswered.

He’d have his answer soon enough.

🏒🖤

The cool of the arena’s backstage floor seeps through your jeans, your tripod sitting off to the side, your camera nestled in your hands as you wait for the first few players of the bruins to make their arrival.

Your camera goes up; the first of the team to come through the backdoors is the Bruins coach Fury, he spots you smile on his face his hand coming up in a greeting as you get your first arrival shot of the day. Slowly players begin to trickle in, most of them spot you posing for you as they stride by, others walk by with a simple wave their heads already in the game.

Speaking of head in the game center Steve Rogers makes his way in, his suit pressed, duffle thrown over his shoulder as he owns the floor. “Looking good Rogers, say you wouldn’t have Natasha tucked away in that duffle by chance?” you tease grinning behind your camera. You laugh at the grin that breaks his lips, a shake of his head as he directs his gaze at you, “can assure you Natasha wouldn’t be packed in my bag, she’d be hanging on my arm.” You coo at the bearded blonde, “you think you can say that again I didn’t have my phone out.”

The two of you laugh as you capture a few more shots, “Come on Rogers leave some love for the rest of us, you already have your face glued on billboards!”

Left defenseman Sam Wilson is striding in next million dollar smile painted on his lips like the suit he wears on his skin. “But no one has their face printed on as many shirts like you do Wilson, now give me something new to look out for will ya, want to make sure these etsy sellers get only the best!” Wilson eats your words up, feeding the fans through your film. He comes closer kneeling to your level to pull you in for a hug, “it’s good to see you hot shot, thought you weren’t coming out tonight with how Barnes was moping.”

Your heart beats like a wild drum in your chest, “Tasha’s flight got delayed, cashed in her IOU, so here I am and surely your version of Barnes moping is different from mine.”

“Oh man you should of seen him, had to smack the phone out of his hands with how often he was checking it, you’re gonna join us tonight after the win right?”

“You Bruins are so sure about that win,” you laugh.

“That’s because it’s in the bag, hot shot.” It takes everything in you not to snap your eyes to the broad shoulder right defenseman sauntering into the building. “Here comes your boy.” Sam chuckles patting your shoulder as you find said man with your camera lens. You wanted to eat him up like he was eating at your film.

Like Sam Bucky strolls till he’s standing above you, grin pulling at his pink lips as he offers you his hand. You set your camera down gently against your chest before taking his offer, warmth seeping though you at your hand wrapped in his. “Thought you weren’t gonna show.” He murmurs watching you.

“Well as enticing as staying in my pjs on my couch with a glass of wine watching the game tonight sounded IOUs are a serious thing to cash in.” you say struggling to keep his gaze, you were certain you’d turn into a puddle of goo soon.

“More enticing then upgrading your lock screen?”

You let out a groan reaching out to smack his chest, but his hand captures yours instead keeping it there a teasing smile playing at his lips. “You’re never going to let that go are you?” you question recalling the night at the bar that he discovered himself as your lock screen. To be fair it was one of your favorite shots you had captured at the beginning of the seasons. It didn’t hurt that he was your favorite Bruin player to follow on and off the ice.

“Never, though I’m hoping by the end of the night ill see a photo of me after the win.” He chuckles thumb running over your hand.

“You’d have to secure a win first Barnes.”

Your breath catches in your chest as he closes the distance between the two of you, “I’ve already won though.”

Your reply is caught on your tongue, Fury voice breaking through the haze, “Barnes you’ll have time to catch up with y/n later get your ass in the lockers now!”

Bucky let’s your hand falling, chuckle brewing in his chest as he steps back, “hope you’re not watching Wilson or Rogers to closely tonight hotshot because this wins for you, and I’m going to be the one bringing it home.”

You watch him walk away, his gaze lingering on you till he disappears through the locker room.

And God how you hoped he would.

[xuzuitengenx]

Neuvillette x Pyro Dragon!Male Reader Oneshot

Part 1 HERE

Title: As We Meet Once Again

Genre: Angst (Potentially Fluff?)

CW and Info: NOT PROOF-READ AS ALWAYS, OOC moments, Lovers turn strangers, not following plot

QUICK A/N: ITS BEEN AWHILE SINCE I WROTE SO IM SORRY IF ITS HORRIBLE

Neuvillette thought that the Lantern Rite in Liyue was beautiful. He saw the festive decorations, families being together, and different Liyue traditions all while he was shopping (and getting scammed).

Walking with 10 boxes of tea through the city of Liyue, he took observations of Liyue. While admiring, he thought of M/N. Some decorations or gifts reminded Neuvillette of M/N or knew that M/N would've loved it.

Neuvillette knows that he should move on from M/N ever since their last encounter. Letting out a sigh, Neuvillette shouldn't be thinking about him right now as he should be enjoying this day.

He will enjoy this day.

Neuvillette knew that he had gotten lost. He was supposed to meet with Furina and the others to go back to Fontaine but he doesn't see them and the area he is in doesn't make sense as there was no transportation even remotely near.

Neuvillette began to walk around to spot any of them or even Hu Tao since Furina and her were chatting a bit.

While his mind was occupied by trying to find anyone, he accidentally bumped into someone which cause the two to tumble a bit.

"Ah—my apologies." Neuvillette quickly said as he almost dropped the boxes of tea, not taking a peek at the person.

"It's alright, Monsieur Neuvillette."

Neuvillette perked up at the person's voice. It almost sounds like...no.

Neuvillette swiftly looks at the person and there was M/N, standing in front of him with that stupid cute smile of his.

"It was really my fault. Should've watched where I was going." M/N scratches the back of his neck with a soft laugh.

Nevulliette was beyond shocked. He never thought that he would see M/N again after that day. Words were caught in his throat as he had lots of things to say, his chest felt heavier yet happy to see M/N again.

M/N took note of Neuvillette's reaction.

"Uhm..Do you need help with carrying those boxes?" M/N asks, trying to ease the tension a bit.

Neuvillette reluctantly looks away from M/N and at the boxes he was holding. This was a bad idea, right? He shouldn't indulge himself with M/N again after everything.. but maybe what if this was his last chance to talk to M/N again, he should take that chance.

Nodding hesitantly, Neuvillette agreed on M/N's help. M/N quickly acted as he grabbed 7 boxes for Neuvillette to carry less.

"Where are you heading to?" M/N asked, looking at the white hair man.

Neuvillette was stuck on his words as he doesn't know where he's heading. All he knew was he needed to go back on the boats.

"Uhm—the boats..." He spoke to M/N while not looking at M/N, his nerves getting the better of him as he cleared his throat. M/N took notice of this and realized that Neuvillette was lost.

"I'll lead the way, Monsieur Neuvillette. Just follow me, alright?" M/N said, taking his eyes off Neuvillette as he began walking.

Neuvillette started following him, watching M/N work his way through the crowd. Neuvillette wanted to talk to M/N, to ask him why he left Neuvillette, and why is he talking to him now? His heart felt heavy as his mind was just filled with unanswered questions.

Speeding up to walk beside M/N, Neuvillette tried to talk but he couldn't. Nothing was coming out as he sneaked glances at the (H/C) hair man.

"M/N– Monsieur M/N.." Neuvillette started, getting the male's attention. "Hmm?" M/N hummed, hearing Neuvillette called his name.

Neuvillette couldn't find his words, thinking about what to ask first. Gripping on the tea boxes as he just blurted out a question.

"..Why? Why did you leave me on that day..?" Neuvillette stopped walking, making the other stop too. M/N looked at Neuvillette, his face softening at the question as Neuvillette's face was determined to find the answer.

Neuvillette replayed that day in his head, his heart pounding as he waited for a answer.

M/N sighed, thinking about that day.

"It's a lot to unpack and you are on a rush so I can tell you another time–"

"I want the answer now." Neuvillette cuts him off, not caring if he is late or if he gets left behind.

M/N was slightly taken aback but quickly composed himself. He looks around and happens to see a unused table near them. Looking at Neuvillette, he gestures with a tilt of his head to move there. Neuvillette follows M/N as they walked to the table.

Setting down the boxes of tea on the table, M/N looked at Neuvillette as Neuvillette quickly set down the other boxes.

Neuvillette looks at M/N, his arms crossing to show that he was not joking around. M/N slightly smiled at Neuvillette's action. He loved when Neuvillette did this as he thought it was adorable.

"Why I left, hmm?" M/N started, thinking back as he looked away. Neuvillette bit the inside of his cheek, wanting–no needing an answer.

"Natlan was.. in a middle of a war and I needed to fight in it." M/N started, looking back at Neuvillette.

M/N sighed. "There was no guarantee that I would live to see the end of it...and knowing that information, I immediately thought of you.."

Neuvillette slowly uncrossed his arms as his determined look started to break.

"I couldn't bare the thought of you absolutely destroyed if you knew that I died in the war. So, I thought of something which was to leave you.. I thought leaving you without no explanation would make you hate me and forget about me if I did died." M/N looked away, unable to look at Neuvillette as he spoke.

"I hated hurting you..So much.. I hate seeing you cry and even making you cry. I wanted to hold you and tell you about the war but I couldn't. I wanted you to move on if I died." M/N felt guilty, still not looking at Neuvillette as he finished.

Neuvillette listened till the end, his face held a heartbroken look and his heart aching. Neuvillette hesitantly walked close to M/N, his gloved hands going to M/N's face. His hands touching M/N's cheeks and gently guiding his face to look at him.

Once his purple eyes met the (E/C) colored eyes, his heart fluttered. It's been too long since he looked at M/N's eyes that he loves so much.

"You should've told me..I would have been fine..–"

"You wouldn't.. I know you too well, Neuvillette.." M/N's hands went on top of Neuvillette's gloved ones on his face.

Neuvillette took a breath when M/N's hands went on his. Taking in his touch he so dearly missed.

"..You still could've told me..when you left me, I didn't hate you.. My heart was completely broken, yes. But, I just couldn't bring myself to hate you.." Neuvillette spoke softly, not breaking eye contact.

M/N listened to Neuvillette, still feeling so guilty.

"..M/N, somehow..I still love you after all these centuries.." As Neuvillette said this, M/N felt his heart fluttered as his eyes widen. Neuvillette saw his eyes widening and felt regret. "I'm not sure if you still feel the same–"

"–I love you too." M/N cut him off, catching Neuvillette off guard. Neuvillette's heart started beating quickly as he processed what M/N said.

Neuvillette couldn't help but to smile. "Good.. that's good.."

M/N smiled back, taking in Neuvillette's beautiful features.

There was a much needed moment of silence as the two dragons just enjoy being back within each other's company.

"HEY, I FOUND HIM!" Furina's voice broke the silence as she yelled at the others of her discovery.

Taking their eyes off each other, they looked at Furina. Nevulliette's heart clutched as he needed to go and leave M/N. Looking back at M/N as his hands didn't leave M/N's cheeks, he didn't want to leave.

M/N looked at Neuvillette, his face clearly sadden. "It seems like you have to go." M/N spoke.

Neuvillette nods, reluctantly taking his gloved hands off of M/N which made M/N take his hands away too.

Neuvillette grabs all 10 of the boxes, starting to walk away from M/N before he stopped. Looking back at M/N, his eyes fixated on the man and he suddenly asked a question—or more of a statement.

"Come back with me." Neuvillette said, turning his full body to M/N.

"What?" M/N asked.

Neuvillette took a quick breath, repeating himself. "Come back to Fontaine with me.."

M/N scratched the back of his neck, thinking about what he just said.

"Please.." Neuvillette held a pleading look, hoping M/N would come with him. M/N looked at Neuvillette's face, his heart skipping a beat.

Finally, M/N nodded. "I'll go with you." M/N walked to Neuvillette. Neuvillette sighed in relief, smiling as M/N walked to him.

"Thank you." Neuvillette softly spoke.

M/N smiled. "Of course.."

THE END