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missadangel · 2 days ago

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The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

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XXV. Sorrow

A Fronte Praecipitium, A Tergo Lupi.

A precipice in front, wolves behind.

As you arrived at the villa, you jumped off the horse, with Lucius helping you down with a firm hand. You dashed into the courtyard, your heart pounding with urgency. The moment Tullia and the others spotted you, their faces bore a mix of concern and relief. They then realized you were covered in blood, but their concern melted away when they noticed you were unharmed, not physically at least. Decima approached you, cradling Marcius closely, while Norell held your little girl protectively against her chest.

“We must leave at once, my lady,” Felix urged, his voice urgent. “They will be here soon.”

The carriage was already prepared.

“My lady, your clothes...” Tullia began, her eyes scanning your disheveled appearance. “Let me help you change—”

“I'm afraid there's no time,” Lucius interrupted.

“Don't worry, I'll be fine; we'll be fine,” you promised, offering them a reassuring smile despite your own burgeoning fear, noticing the unshed tears glistening in their eyes.

“I wish you could have come with me,” you confessed, a lump forming in your throat.

“We'd only slow you down,” Tullia replied, her voice steady despite the sorrow etched on her features.

“It is only important that you are safe, my lady,” Norell added, her gaze steady and resolute. “We will follow after you reach safety.”

Tullia took your hand in hers, warmth and worry swirling in her grip. “Gods help you; my prayers are with you, Domina,” she said.

You hugged her tightly, tears streamed down your face.

With a heavy heart, you took one last look at their worried faces before climbing into the carriage beside Decima, leaving the safety of your home behind for the uncertain and perilous journey that lay ahead.

During the travel to escort you and your children to a safe location, Felix and Cato were stationed directly behind the carriage, flanked on either side by two additional soldiers. Lucius positioned himself at the back with one soldier accompanying him.

The enormous gate of the yard creaked open, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around your little girl, pulling her tightly against you as the carriage surged forward down the dusty road. The air was thick with the smell of earth and the sounds of hooves thundering against the ground. Marcius, perched joyfully on Decima's lap, radiated innocence and happiness, his joy a stark contrast to the tension surrounding you. His brown eyes sparkled, mirroring the deep warmth of his father's gaze. In that moment, you knew you could face the worst fate imaginable—a fate that could even take your own life—but losing him was inconceivable. You would fight tooth and nail to ensure he and your little girl would survive.

Suddenly, the distant sound of neighing horses pierced the air, sending a shiver down your spine. You exchanged anxious glances with Decima, the worry evident in your furrowed brows.

“Felix! We’re being followed!” Cato's voice sliced through the tension, urgency lacing his words.

“Shit!” Felix’s roared.

Lucius turned swiftly in his saddle, his eyes narrowing as he spotted two imposing horsemen advancing. “You go ahead; I’ll hold them off!” he shouted.

“You go with him!” Felix snapped at the other soldier.

“Yes, sir!” the soldier replied, drawing his sword with a practiced motion, the blade glinting.

Lucius pivoted his horse, ready to confront the impending threat.

Panic surged within you as you peered out the carriage window, your heart racing at the sight of him riding away to face danger alone.

“Lucius!” you cried out, desperation filling your voice.

But your fear deepened as you realized it wasn’t just two horsemen—more were galloping toward you, a dark wave of impending doom closing in.

“Ride faster! Do not stop, no matter what!” Felix commanded the coachman, sword drawn and ready. The soldiers rallied behind him, drawing their weapons and positioning themselves defensively to shield the carriage as more horsemen closed in from all sides. Chaos erupted into a full-fledged battle.

"Cut off the carriage!" a voice pierced through the chaos. A surge of soldiers emerged, and two of them forced the coachman to stop. Overwhelmed with terror, you clutched your little girl tightly as the carriage came to a sudden and forceful halt. In the midst of the turmoil, you felt a sharp pain as your head struck the rough edge of the carriage. The sounds of battle mingled with your daughter’s frightened cries, amplifying the chaos that surrounded you.

“Aurelia! Are you alright?” Decima cried, her fingers brushing the spot where you had struck your head, noticing a trickle of blood oozing down your temple.

“Yes, I believe so. But what about you?”

"Thank Gods, we're alright." She said. You both checked Marcius to see if he's hurt.

Marcius whimpered, crying as tears glistened in his eyes. You leaned down and gently pressed a soothing kiss atop his head.

“What are we going to do now?” Decima murmured.

“I do not know,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, weighed down by uncertainty.

Sitting anxiously in the carriage, you peeked outside through the small window. The cacophony of clashing swords and anguished shouts reached your ears. The oppressive confinement began to suffocate you, and, with a sense of deliberate resolve, you eased the carriage door open. You were feeling trapped, so you sought an opportunity to escape.

The scene outside was a whirlwind of despair. Felix, Cato, and other soldiers fought bravely against others, their swords glinting fiercely and the sound of metal echoing through the woods. Suddenly, a soldier charging to aid you was struck down, an arrow piercing his throat with deadly precision. He crumpled to the ground, the life draining from his eyes, and a cry of horror escaped your lips.

"You fools! Do not harm the princess!"

The words echoed through the chaos like a piercing bell, and their owner was unmistakably Varus. A cold shiver ran down your spine as you saw him stride towards you, determination etched into his features.

Was he here for Marcius?

If he had been scheming alongside Elagabalus all this time, his intentions were as perilous as a hungry wolf’s gaze. Your thoughts raced, and in that frantic moment, instinct kicked in. You lunged for the sword lying abandoned on the ground, the cold steel belonging to a soldier felled by an unseen arrow. It was heavier than you anticipated, a weight that felt foreign in your hands. Memories of Marcus's training flickered in your mind, the lessons with the wooden sword that now seemed a distant memory. You fought against the nervous tremor in your hands and clutched the weapon tighter, forcing yourself to focus.

“It’s dangerous out there; stay inside!” you called to Decima, urgency lacing your voice. Her wide eyes mirrored the turmoil around you, but there was no escape for you or the children. The air was thick with the tension of too many soldiers, their presence forming a formidable wall of steel and intent, sealing off any chance of escape.

Felix jumped in front of Varus, who was approaching you, and made a move to stab him with his sword but failed. Another soldier advanced toward you, and you lifted your sword. It felt heavy in your hands. You tried to lunge but, shaking, fell to your knees. Quickly picking yourself up, you found Varus grabbing you by the arm and lifting you off the ground. “You will hurt yourself with that sword, my lady,” he grinned as he easily took the weapon from you and threw it away.

You glanced at the other soldier who opened the carriage door and forcibly pulled Marcius away from Decima. “No!” you shouted with all your might. You lunged toward him, but Varus's strong arm held you back. “Get your hands off me!”

When Lucius heard your cries, he swung his sword at his opponent before charging at him and plunging his pugio into his back without the other soldier realizing. With a groan of agony, the soldier released Marcius, but Lucius caught him before he could fall to the ground.

“Marcius!” you cried out as you lunged toward him, but once again, your effort fell short. Panicking, you shouted at Varus, “Let go!” as you twisted and turned, struggling against his grip.

Lucius quickly handed Marcius back to Decima and shouted, “Get back in the carriage now!”

He was on his way to save you when a number of arrows suddenly fell onto them; they purposefully pointed them at them rather than at you, which infuriated you. Before she could get to the carriage, Decima was struck, and she and Marcius tumbled to the ground. The shaft of the arrow had become trapped in Marcius' tiny body, precisely in his chest, after piercing Decima's arm around him. In order to avoid crushing him with her own weight, Decima placed her palm on the ground and used her arm for support. You forgot to breathe as Marcius lay there with his eyes closed. "MARCIUS!" you screamed at the top of your lungs. Your entire body shook with pain, shock, and wrath.

Your screams caused Felix Cato Lucius and the others to pause for a moment as they fought their opponents, but only to continue fighting back with more fury and determination.

Varus felt a sense of satisfaction as he saw Marcius lying motionless on the ground. “Kill every last one of them!” he shouted while pulling you closer, away from your family.

You struggled with all your strength, pulling the pugio from its scabbard at Varus' waist and swinging it at his throat with a quick thrust. But he was quicker than you; he caught your hand instantly. However, you could make a cut, just enough for the blood to flow. Groaning, Varus became so furious that he struck you with such force that, before you realized it, you suddenly collapsed onto the dusty ground, and darkness surrounded you like a thick fog, swallowing every trace of light and consciousness.

About thirty-six hours later, Marcus and Octavius finally reached Rome. The streets glistened with rain, reflecting the fading light of the sun as it dipped below the horizon, ceding the sky to the watchful moon. It felt as if the heavens themselves were weeping for the tragedy that had befallen the city below. Peering out from a lofty hill, Marcus inhaled deeply, a sense of homecoming washing over him; yet, he remained blissfully unaware that he had arrived too late.

As they urged their weary horses toward the grand city, an ominous silence enveloped them. Despite their frantic ride, fatigue weighed heavily on their bodies after a relentless day and a half of travel. As they passed under the arch dedicated to Romulus and Remus, a shiver of unease ran through Marcus. The soldiers usually stationed near the gates - silent sentinels of the city - were conspicuously absent.

The streets stretched before them like empty veins, leading ominously toward the Colosseum and the Roman Forum, devoid of the usual life and laughter. It felt as though the city itself had been abandoned, its heart stilled. Dim shadows danced behind the darkened windows of homes and buildings, their inhabitants seemingly swallowed by despair.

The rain continued to fall, each drop echoing softly as the horses’ hooves clattered against the slick stone streets. As they approached a winding path leading to Palatine Hill, Marcus and Octavius exchanged concerned glances, disturbed by the hushed whispers that brushed against their ears like an unsettling breeze. Further along, a massive crowd came into view, their murmurs swelling into a crescendo of grief.

They saw the crowd gathered around Palatine Hill, torches flickering like haunted fireflies in the dusky gloom. A deep sorrow hung in the air, palpable and heavy. Women wept openly, their cries piercing the night, while men and children stood silently, their faces etched with heartache and confusion. The sense of foreboding thickened as Marcus and Octavius realized they had ridden into a storm of misery that had engulfed their beloved city.

Marcus frowned, suspecting more or less what it meant. But soldiers were everywhere, and it was dangerous for him to approach Palatine Hill before he knew for sure what had happened. No one knew he was alive yet, and it was best to keep it that way for a while. You were the only one on his mind, and he needed to make his way to the villa because he was worried about his family. As tired as they were, they had to press on; his concern for his family was overwhelming.

When they soon arrived at the villa, he jumped off his horse. The animal was so exhausted that it did not even move after he dismounted. Marcus's tired legs trembled as they approached the courtyard. There was no sign of life in the villa—no sounds, no lights, nothing. The courtyard, where Marcius had taken his first steps and where the slaves once hurried to do their work, was now eerily quiet.

He glanced at the lectus and the table in the corner and imagined you sitting there when he returned from his evening duties. You would have gotten up immediately to greet him, rushing to him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. He then sighed, and he climbed the stairs to your room. The wind blew through the window, causing the tulle to dance around your once cozy, now abandoned bed. As he looked at the bed, all his memories flashed before his eyes, and his heart ached with the feeling of abandonment.

It was too late…

He spotted a delicate piece of his little girl’s swaddling clothes lying on the bed. He picked it up and brought it to his nose, inhaling the sweet, soothing scent that lingered like a cherished memory. Suddenly, his gaze darted toward the wooden closet across the room. He leaped to his feet, urgency propelling him forward. As he neared the closet, a sinking realization washed over him—the shelves had been emptied. Only yours and children's clothes that were missing; Marcus's own clothes remained undisturbed in their place. A flicker of hope ignited within him, a glimmer of what he had suspected.

With quickened steps, he left the room and descended the stairs, where Octavius was just returning from the stables, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Acacius, all the horses and the carriage have been taken,” he said.

“So have the clothes,” Marcus replied.

“Do you think they could be where we discussed earlier?” Octavius asked.

“Let’s get moving,” Marcus urged. But at that moment, a rustling noise from the courtyard near the kitchen caught their attention, snapping them into alertness. Marcus instinctively drew his sword, the blade glinting in the dim light, and signaled for Octavius to follow him.

With caution, Octavius advanced toward the sound, his footsteps calculated, while Marcus broke away to flank from the other side, every muscle tensed and ready.

As the door connecting the kitchen to the back garden creaked shut, Octavius turned back toward the stables, his instincts sharp. Marcus surged into the courtyard, adrenaline coursing through him as he began to close in on the fleeing figure, who seemed to dart away like a shadow.

The cloaked man froze, panic flashing across his face as Marcus intercepted him with skillful precision. With a swift motion, he lifted the hood with the tip of his sword, revealing the identity hidden beneath. The mix of surprise and joy that washed over Marcus was unmistakable.

“Cato?” he exclaimed, disbelief transforming into relief in an instant.

Cato, who had been tightly squeezing his eyes shut, suddenly heard his general’s voice. He opened his eyes and gasped, his gaze widening in surprise. “General!”

Octavius stepped toward them, and as the realization hit him that it was indeed Cato, he swiftly sheathed his sword, the metal sliding with a reassuring click. Cato looked at him, equally puzzled. “Octavius, sir!” He laughed. “You're alive too! You both alive!” He then lunged towards Marcus and hugged him. Marcus smiled as he patted him on the back. “We're alive, Cato, and we're back.”

“Thank the gods!”

“Cato, what were you doing here? Where is everyone?” Octavius asked.

“I—I came here to get some herbs, then I heard horses and hid. I thought it was the soldiers.”

“Did you say herbs?”

Cato lowered his head, his expression shifting to one of deep sorrow as if the weight of his worries hung heavily upon him.

“What happened, Cato? Aurelia, my children... Are they all right?” Marcus's voice trembled with anxiety as he searched Cato’s eyes for answers.

Cato glanced towards the road. “I'll tell you everything, but... Come with me now; it's not safe here anymore, but everyone is all right, hiding in the place we agreed on before.”

“Let’s head there, Octavius,” Marcus urged, his voice steady yet tinged with urgency. He turned to Cato. "But have you come all this way on foot? What of the horse?"

“I’ve hidden it out of sight, sir,” Cato replied, a hint of anxiety in his tone. “Tied it in the bushes.”

“Then come with me,” Marcus instructed, leaping onto his horse with practiced ease before reaching out to help Cato mount. Together, they rode into the dappled shade of the forest, the air rich with the scent of damp earth and the rustle of leaves. As they approached the location Cato had mentioned, Marcus felt a growing sense of unease; this was not the place they had discussed. Instead, they had arrived at an old villa nestled among the trees, its weathered stone walls barely visible through the ivy that clung to them like a shroud. The villa, belonging to his cousin Agrippa, loomed quietly by the river—a ghost of its former grandeur, now vacant since Agrippa was away commanding the northern legions.

This villa served as a contingency plan - a refuge for the most dire of circumstances, especially if Geta were to be deposed and Marcus did not return. Marcus' real plan, however, was to go elsewhere, as it was the safest option away from Rome.

"Why have you brought us here?" Marcus asked, dismounting and surveying their surroundings. "Or?"

“Sir, the soldiers and General Varus intercepted the carriage...” Cato hesitated, his voice faltering. “We had no other choice…”

As soon as Cato stepped into the courtyard, Felix and Lucius switched into action and drew their swords. They exchanged glances and signaled to each other. The struggle for survival and the mission to protect the general's family had quickly forged a bond between them. These two men, once soldiers on opposing fronts, were now united against a common enemy.

When they saw Cato, both breathed a sigh of relief.

“Cato, what took you so long—”

Their words froze in their throats as they noticed two men following him. Felix's eyes widened and his jaw dropped when he recognized Marcus and Octavian. Lucius stared at them in astonishment.

“G-General...” Felix managed to stammer, a mix of disbelief and joy flooding his chest. “General!” he exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Octavius!” he called out, his voice cracking with exuberance.

Two more soldiers approached, equally surprised to see Marcus.

“General!” one of them called out.

“It's really him!” another exclaimed.

One of those soldiers was Aris, who approached Felix with his mouth agape. “Is it really him?” he asked.

“Unless the god Morpheus has put us in a dream...” Felix muttered.

Cato chuckled at this. Lucius rolled his eyes, while Octavius and Marcus exchanged glances.

“Should we poke him?” Aris asked, still in disbelief. Felix poked Aris's shoulder hard.

"Ah! Not me, you fool!" Aris snapped, pointing at Marcus.

When Felix reached out to poke Marcus in the shoulder, Marcus caught his hand and playfully slapped him in the face. "What kind of bad manners is that?" he asked with mock annoyance.

"Look at these dummies, Acacius," Octavius chuckled, Marcus grinning.

Felix and Aris exchanged embarrassed laughter, filled with relief and joy. “I’d recognize that commanding voice anywhere! It’s really them!”

“They're not dead! They're alive!” the group erupted in cheers, their voices echoing together.

Suddenly, a wave of joy swept through them. Felix and Aris hugged Marcus tightly as Lucius sheathed his sword. Marcus, a little shaken by their enthusiastic embrace and moaning a little, still, couldn’t help but laugh as well. Octavius, aware of the wounds on Marcus’s chest and hand, felt a surge of concern. "Stop it, you fools; you’ll make our General regret being alive!" he chastised.

Felix wiped away his tears as he stepped back to look at his face once more. "General, sir, you are alive! You have returned."

Marcus gently touched his shoulder. "Indeed, Felix. I am alive, brother."

"Thank the gods," Aris said, also wiping away his tears.

They touched each other's shoulders and exchanged joyful glances. Lucius stood a little behind, watching the reunion unfold with a smile. After a breath, Marcus turned his gaze toward him and nodded.

"Lucius."

"Acacius," he greeted in return.

Marcus's heart raced as the sound of a baby’s cry pierced the air. He instinctively glanced over Lucius's shoulder and his breath caught at the sight of Tullia and Norell approaching, their faces painted with shock.

“Master!” Tullia exclaimed, her arms wide open and walked towards him. her hands gently resting on his shoulders. “Thank Jupiter! Thank all the gods, you're alive, you've returned!”

“I have, Tullia,” Marcus replied, a broad smile spreading across his face that lit up his weary eyes. He turned to Norell, who cradled her little girl with great tenderness. With a gentle touch, he took the baby into his arms. Norell’s joy was silent, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she offered him a smile that spoke volumes.

As Marcus breathed in the sweet, familiar scent of his child, he bent down to kiss the top of her head, a wave of longing washing over him. He missed her more than words could express.

Turning to Tullia, he asked, “Where are Marcius and Aurelia?”

Tullia’s brow furrowed as she bowed her head, tears beginning to cascade down her cheeks. Marcus quickly returned the baby to Norell’s arms as he saw Lucius and Cato rush into a room.

Hoping to find his answer there, Marcus followed them into a small, dimly lit room, his heart sinking at the sight before him. Marcius lay on a mattress, his small body still and wrapped in bandages. Lucius hurriedly sifted through the herbs and vials Cato had brought, sniffing them with urgency, trying to decipher their purpose, while Marcus approached the bed with a growing sense of dread.

“What happened to him?” he whispered, his voice cracking.

A heavy silence enveloped the room as everyone exchanged looks, each one reflecting their sorrow and concern, but no one found the courage to speak an answer.

In the corner, Decima and Octavius held each other tightly. But Octavius's brow furrowed deeply when he noticed the bandage wrapped around Decima’s upper arm.

“What happened to your arm?” he asked.

Decima was unable to respond; her only answer was a tight embrace, tears flowing freely as she buried her face in his shoulder.

"As we headed towards the location we had discussed, we were suddenly caught off guard by an ambush, sir," Felix said, his voice trembling. "Varus and his men pursued us, and they outnumbered us. Please forgive me." He bowed his head in shame, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his failure.

Marcus gazed at his son, the rising tide of tears shimmering in his eyes like fragile glass.

"An arrow struck him in the upper chest," Lucius said, his hands steady as he poured a healing mixture onto a cloth, the scent of herbs filling the room.

Marcus was frozen in disbelief. He sank to his knees, his lips pressing against his little boy's forehead, warm tears streaming down his cheeks as he gently stroked the boy's hair. "Did you say an arrow?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, the arrow struck Decima’s arm before hitting Marcius. If her arm hadn’t slowed its deadly speed…" Lucius's voice trailed off, and a heavy silence enveloped the room, each person acutely aware of the unspoken truth hanging in the air.

Marcus turned to Decima, taking in her pale face, then back to his son. Lucius worked meticulously, applying a herbal ointment to the wound, the boy's small form trembling slightly with each touch. "Fortunately, the arrowhead didn’t penetrate deeply; he’s still alive," Lucius continued. "It's a miracle for such a small child to survive such an injury - what I'm witnessing is beyond anything I've ever seen in my life. He has beaten death, just like his father, I believe." He gave Marcus a reassuring smile.

Wiping away his tears, Marcus managed a weak smile in return. "Please, do your utmost. Save my son."

"I’m doing everything I can; don’t worry."

"I'm grateful to you, Lucius."

Then Marcus realized that something was missing. “Aurelia must be devastated. Where is she?” he asked.

Everyone lowered their heads. It was a difficult question to answer, and no one had the courage to say that to Marcus.

However, Marcus's patience had run out. He looked at Felix sharply as he approached him. “Forgive me, sir,” he said again, his voice trembling. “I could not protect her.” He bowed his head, unable to meet Marcus's gaze.

“Forgive me, sir,” he said again, his voice trembling. “I could not protect her.” He bowed his head, unable to meet his gaze.

“What do you mean by that? Did she...” Marcus whispered, feeling his heart shatter into pieces. When he looked around, everyone else averted their eyes.

“They took her, sir,” Cato explained. “They hunted us down and ambushed us. They were going to kill us all, but luckily Aris and the others arrived just in time.”

“Varus had already left with Lady Aurelia when Aris showed up. They probably think we've either died or escaped,” he continued.

“We had to come here and hide in case they came looking for us. Besides, Marcius...” Cato hesitated, realizing Marcus’s growing anger.

“Varus, you filthy dog!” Marcus growled, clenching his fists.

“We couldn’t protect Emperor Geta either,” Aris added. “I couldn’t go to help Darius; there were too many of them. Empress Nerissa, Varus, and Elagabalus must have planned this together, but we don’t know much yet.”

"We must save the Lady Aurelia," Octavius said, looking directly at Marcus. "They may also kill her."

Lucius stood up and faced Marcus. “I don’t think they intend to kill her. If that were their aim, they would have done it during the ambush. They were talking about arresting her.”

Marcus turned his back to them, trembling with rage, making a fist to pound it against the stone wall as the weight of the situation consumed him. Ignoring the blood oozing from his hand.

“I shall rip his lungs out.” He made a promise to himself, gritting his teeth in anger.

You jolted awake, a wave of anguish crashing over you, weaving through both body and soul. The familiar embrace of pain gripped you once again, yet this time felt like a tempest brewing beneath your chin, a painful reminder of yesterday's chaos and the hard knock of a masculine hand against your face. But that was nothing compared to the ache simmering deep within your heart, a gaping wound that throbbed with every beat. Memories surfaced, sharp and intense, and your throat constricted as you struggled to breathe. The image of the arrow striking Marcius' body wouldn't go away, haunting you relentlessly. Suddenly, you gasped for breath as the pain intensified. This pain felt very different from what you felt for Geta and Marcus. You were surprised that you could endure so much suffering, and you truly wondered how you were still alive. A twinge of guilt washed over you when you realized you were angry with the gods for the unbearable tragedies that had befallen you. It was all simply too much—excruciating and overwhelming. Driven by a survival instinct, you felt compelled to find a way to endure this pain, ease it. These feelings ultimately led you to an emotion as powerful as the pain itself: a desire for vengeance.

You slowly opened your eyes. The first thing you noticed was a small window with iron bars set high in a stone wall. Since you were lying against the wall, the sunlight that filtered in didn't reach you. As you began to hear the sounds around you—the clanging of metal as soldiers marched and muttered—you turned your head. You spotted two guards standing with their backs turned behind the iron bars. The cell was larger than the one Macrinus had imprisoned you in before; it contained a mattress, a table, and even food on the table. This must be one of the special cells for an imperial member. That meant you had been brought to Palatine Hill. You pushed back the disheveled hair from your face, which smelled of blood and sweat, and sat up. Your clothes were in a terrible state, shabby, worn, just like your heart. Geta's blood, still present on you, had a dark red tinge, dried on your light blue stola. Your sobs and cries returned, your heart breaking repeatedly as you thought of Marcus, Geta, and your son Marcius, leaving you feeling as though you were on the verge of losing your grip.

Suddenly, the echo of footsteps broke the silence, sending a rush of anger through your veins as you heard his voice.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Varus said, a sinister grin stretching across his face. He loomed in front of the cold iron bars, his gaze piercing through, studying you with an unsettling intensity.

You clenched the fabric of your dress tightly, the soft texture pressing against your skin, attempting to offer solace. Yet, your body vibrated with an unmistakable fury. Every muscle pulsed with a powerful combination of fear and rage, igniting an intense fire within you that demanded to be unleashed.

"You filthy bastard!" you shouted, lunging at him.

He remained completely still because iron bars stood between him and you, acting as friends to him and enemies to you.

"I'll kill you!" you yelled, gripping the bars. Your pain outweighed your anger. "What did you want from him, a little child? How could you?" Your sobs and cries grew louder.

"Behave yourself, Lady Aurelia," Varus growled threateningly.

"If I don't, what will you do? Will you also murder me? What difference would it make if you killed me as well? You've already killed my son."

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it the moment you attempted to kill me, my lady, but if you ever do anything stupid like that again, I'll make sure you meet your son in Elysium."

"Filthy dog!" You shouted. "I swear your death will be by my hand, I swear it!"

Varus angrily struck the iron bars with his hand. "Enough! Stop it!"

"What did you want from him? Why did you—?” You murmured, your knees gave way, and you collapsed, your sobs echoing in the stone cell. It was a plea that would make anyone with a conscience shudder, but Varus was not a man of conscience.

"If you promise to behave, I will let you out of the cell. His Majesty wants to see you," he said, looking at you coldly.

Out of the cell... Perhaps you could have the chance to kill him.

"My Lady, I don't have all day to wait for your answer." He said mockingly.

What an arsehole.

You focused your attention on the gleaming dagger, the pugio, resting at the waist of one of the guards. A surge of determination washed over you as you began to formulate your plan. With a slow nod, you met Varus’s gaze, and his grin widened. “Good. Open the cell,” he commanded.

As the guard unlocked the cell door, you rose to your feet, your heart racing. Your eyes were locked on the pugio, its hilt inviting and within reach. As you stepped out of the cell, a rush of adrenaline coursed through you. You darted past the guard, swiftly lunging for the handle of the dagger at his side, fingers brushing against the cool metal. In an exhilarating instant, you managed to unhook it. But before you could pivot towards Varus, his grip clamped down on your arm, yanking you back.

With a swift motion, he disarmed you, taking the pugio and slamming you against the stone wall. The impact jolted through your body like a thunderclap, a sharp groan escaping your lips as pain radiated from your back, merging humiliation with fury.

"Did your husband teach you to do this, my lady?" You swallowed as he ran the sharp surface of the pugio against your neck. "But he’s gone now, how sad."

Ignoring his amusement, you narrowed your eyes at him. "I may have failed now, but you can be sure that one day I will stick a knife down your stinking throat."

Laughing wickedly, he leaned in, his breath grazing your earlobe, the kind that makes you feel sick to your stomach. "If you weren't such a beautiful and distinguished woman, I would have killed you already."

He returned the pugio to the guard and grabbed your arm, pulling it roughly as he walked. "Enough of this nonsense. “Move.”

As Varus led you from the cell into the Domus Severiana, you surveyed your surroundings, feeling a deep sense of despair. Memories of Geta and Marcus flooded your mind, while the rich, intricate details of the architecture seemed to taunt you. Those cherished images were overshadowed by visions of others—individuals who had proved themselves unworthy of the titles they held. The warmth of this place, which once felt like home, now felt cold and invasive; its calm atmosphere was dimmed by the weight of your sorrow.

When the doors of the Great Hall opened, you stepped inside to face one of the most upsetting sights imaginable. In the same hall where Geta had once greeted you with a warm smile, Elagabalus now occupied Geta's imperial throne, smiling ominously at you. You couldn't decide whether this vision was painful or simply annoying, but it was evident that you were hurt once again. Elagabalus was slightly younger than Geta and a bit taller than Caracalla, but he was clearly more twisted. He pursed his lips as he scrutinized you from head to toe, yet made no effort to rise. Even Caracalla would have stood upon seeing you, but Elagabalus remained smug and unyielding.

"Oh, our beautiful Princess Aurelia!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together, echoing through the hall. "Even in your wretched state, you radiate a certain brilliance; it’s simply extraordinary." His words felt like daggers, cutting deeper as he reveled in your predicament.

Your body moved involuntarily toward him, the urge to lunge and grab him by the throat overwhelming you. However, Varus tightened his grip, indifferent to the pain it caused you. Anyways, no matter what he did, you knew he couldn't hurt you anymore, not after what he did.

"I must say that I am truly sorry for all of this, my dear," he continued. "If only your late husband, Acacius, had responded differently to the message I sent him and followed my request, perhaps we wouldn’t be in this situation. Just look at you; that’s all—"

"Don't you dare speak his name!" you snarled, fierce anger boiling within you as your voice broke through the tension.

"Hmm, I understand that emotions are running high, and you're feeling hurt and frustrated," he replied with an air of condescension, "But I must insist that you do not interrupt me again.”

You gave him a stern look. "Or what? What are you going to do? Torture me? Kill me? Then do it."

He shook his head repeatedly. "No, no, no. You are not an ordinary woman. The citizens of Rome are already experiencing..." he thought of the right words. "...considerable unrest," pursed his lips. "I do not wish to further provoke their discontent. They hold you in high regard. Therefore, I will determine your fate after the funeral.”

"Funeral," you whispered.

“I am not so devoid of compassion as to deny my cousin a proper funeral,” he responded smugly. “That is the purpose of my summons. If you wish to pay your respects, he is located in the other hall; the guards will take you there. Tomorrow, in a grand ceremony, the people of Rome will bid him farewell, and I will officially declare myself emperor.” His tone conveyed a sense of excitement.

“You monster! Traitor! It’s all your fault!” You shouted as you lunged at him. A familiar face stopped you this time. You were so distraught that you didn’t realize Darius was there until he grasped your arm.

“Darius, let me go! I'll kill him!”

Elagabalus tilted his head to the side, his expression a blend of astonishment and amusement. “Well, what General Varus said about you was true, I see,” he remarked, his voice dripping with playful curiosity.

Varus smirked. "I can tell she's got a fighting spirit, your highness."

Elagabalus erupted into laughter, a sound that rang with a mocking cadence, inciting a flame of anger within you.

“My lady, please calm yourself,” Darius urged, his voice gentle yet firm.

You shoved his hands away defensively, the frustration boiling over. “Are you on his side too? My brother Geta cared for you!”

“I’m only doing my duty, my lady,” he replied. “Serving the emperor is my only obligation.” As he spoke, a suggestive glint flickered in his eyes, leaving you uncertain of his intentions.

"I liked you, Commander Darius. You deserve your title," Elagabalus said with a grin. Darius bowed respectfully in response.

As you observed him, you weren't completely sure, but it seemed like Darius was putting on an act. Nevertheless, you felt anger towards him for not being able to protect Geta.

Suddenly, the heavy door swung open, and the guards stormed in, dragging Nerissa by the arm. She struggled against their grip, defiance etched across her face, just as you had.

“Oh, there’s Empress Nerissa. Come closer, dear,” he gestured to her, a wicked glint in his eyes. It was difficult to discern his thoughts.

“Elagabalus! You bastard! You promised I would return to Athens, my home!” she shouted, her voice filled with indignation.

“Oh, about that... Well, circumstances have forced me to change my mind,” he replied, standing up and adjusting his ornate toga. It was hard to look at him in that attire; he reminded you of Geta. “When the Athenians decided to side with Geta and betray me, I had to revise my plans. I hope you understand. After all, it was a matter of mutual interest,” he said with a sneer.

“What about my son? Why did you take him from me?”

He rolled his eyes. “Did you really think I would let you flee with a Roman prince, the heir to the throne? Are you truly that foolish?”

Nerissa's eyes reflected obvious disappointment. He had a point. Had she truly betrayed Geta for a foolish plan? It was frustrating that she trusted Elagabalus more easily than Geta. A surge of anger coursed through you again, as if you could reach out and strangle Nerissa with your bare hands, but worry for your nephew, Publius, held you back.

“If a hair on his head has been harmed, I will ruin you!” You yelled at him.“

"I am certain of that, my lady." He smirked. "Besides, I don't intend to hurt him," he then stood up, continued. "The death of his father and another prince have already angered the people enough; I don't want to give them another reason to revolt. I need the people of Rome to love me and respect me."

“They will never love you! You murdered their emperor and imprisoned his son, his heir! They will hate you!” Nerissa shouted angrily.

“I murdered him?" He said raising his eyebrows, "I didn't do anything, remember? It was you,” he grinned cruelly. "They have always resented you for being Greek, and this incident will only amplify their desire to place blame. They’ve been waiting for a reason, and you’ve just handed it to them.”

“I'll kill you!” She shrieked, jumping forward to him. One of the guards grabbed her by the arm.

“Lock her up, she is to be executed with the other Greeks.”

“No!”

You wanted to smile cruelly at Nerissa's shouts of protest, but you couldn’t. The thought of Publius being completely orphaned overshadowed everything else. Nerissa's desire for revenge led to a huge mistake, which she likely regrets; ultimately, she destroyed her life, her son’s life, and yours.

Elagabalus approached you, you had seen the pure evil in his eyes before, in Caracalla's eyes.

"As for you..."

"Do you intend to execute me as well?"

He chuckled, a mix of hysteria and amusement. "Certainly not. Why would I take such a drastic step? I told you, the people hold you in high regard, much like their disdain for Nerissa. I see a valuable opportunity here and would prefer to have you on my side."

Though seething with anger, you couldn't help but laugh in disbelief. “That will never happen.”

He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows in implication. “What about your nephew Publius? You wouldn’t want to lose him too, would you?”

Understanding his implication, you felt too trapped to respond, and the pain returned as tears streamed down your face. He continued.

“Actually, I was planning to get rid of him along with his mother, but when Varus made a mistake and got your son killed, I realized that I have no other choice left. It was the only thing that could persuade you to cooperate. You are a smart woman; I am certain that you understand exactly what I mean."

Your silence gave him confidence; he sensed your defeat, and a satisfied smile spread across his face as he approached you.

"What kind of monster are you to take my son's life, call it a mistake, and threaten me with my nephew?" You muttered, lacking the strength to bark or fight any longer.

“Alright, enough talk,” he said, looking at the guards. “Take her. Have her bathed and changed. Assign two men to guard her. We’ll speak again after the funeral, princess. Remember, your nephew’s life is in your hands, so I suggest you behave yourself.”

Ignoring his disturbing smile, you glanced at Darius as Varus pulled you out of the hall. He looked sad when he met your eyes, but you were too angry with him to care.

Geta's lifeless body lay on a marble slab in the center of the great hall, covered with a white cloth embroidered with gold. It was difficult to look at him; his skin was so pale, and his lips so blue, that you had to grip the edge of the marble slab for support. The lamentations of the vestal priestesses rose around you as you placed coins to pay Charon on Geta's eyelids. Your fingers trembled as you touched his golden hair. Tears streamed down your face, wetting his colorless, lifeless skin as you leaned down to kiss his forehead. You tried to ignore the members of the Senate gathered around you, along with their wives and the murmurs of the Patricians. You could not bear to hear any words of consolation; you were too tired to endure it any longer.

You felt exhausted to attend the solemn funeral ceremony, yet Elagabalus dragged you with him. Varus’ men shadowed you like ominous specters, their presence a constant reminder of your captivity. It was infuriating; you felt as though you were a ghost, wandering through a fog of despair, a living dead among the mourning throng.

Desperation clawed at your chest as your eyes scanned the sea of unfamiliar faces, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone familiar—perhaps Lucius, Cato, or Felix. You yearned for a sign, a whisper of news that Marcius was alive, but all you found were stranger faces. It felt like everyone had turned their backs on you, leaving you in this bleak nightmare of solitude.

As you stood before the blazing pyre, the flames licking greedily at Geta's lifeless form, sorrow overwhelmed you. The crackling fire echoed the sound of your heart breaking. Tears streamed down your face, hot and relentless, as Geta’s final words reverberated in your mind: “In his absence, you will be under my protection.”

You didn't know when this nightmare would end, you just wanted to beg the gods to take your life, but not without revenge. You didn't know when or how, but you would take your revenge, it was the only thing that kept you strong. Varus and Elagabalus may have seen it as surrender, but they were unaware that you were just waiting for the right moment.

Far away in the crowd, hidden from view, Marcus was present. Cloaked in black, he lurked in the shadows, but he was there. His heart surged with life once he caught sight of you in the distance. He yearned to push through the masses and reach you, ready to slaıghter anyone who dare to stand in his way. However, he knew he couldn't do that—not yet. All he could do was watch you helplessly from afar. Patience had never been so difficult for him, and of all the moments of helplessness he had endured, this was the most excruciating.

“Sir, what do we do?” Octavius asked.

“I am the only one among us whose face less recognizable to them. I will approach and retrieve him,” Lucius said.

Marcus touched his shoulder. “Be careful.”

As Lucius moved carefully through the crowd, he, like Marcus, couldn’t help but glance in your direction, worried about you. But he had to find Darius. When you briefly looked over, you recognized Lucius’s face, and your heart began to race. You kept your excitement in check, not wanting Varus to become suspicious; he had seen him before.

Lucius... If he was alive, did that mean the others were too? You were desperate to find out, but all you could do was stand there, and you hated it.

Darius quickly identified Lucius and grasped the meaning behind his signal. He discreetly turned to assess the positions of Varus and Elagabalus, taking the opportunity to position one of his most trusted men in his place. He then began to follow Lucius at a safe distance, relieved to see that Varus was momentarily preoccupied.

Anxiety coiled in your stomach as you imagined the exchange between Darius and Lucius. Would he intend to send you a message? "Marcius, please let him be alive," you prayed to the gods, your heart swelling with a glimmer of hope. It felt almost reassuring to see Lucius again, especially when you felt so alone. At least Lucius was alive; at least you hadn't lost him yet.

While you were waiting for Darius to return, Elagabalus was eager to leave and signaled to the guards, who parted to help him through. The crowd was in a dismal mood—filled with mourning, anger, and sadness—and they definitely weren't ready to accept Elagabalus as emperor. However, you could tell they had a great respect for you. You were certain that he would use that respect to manipulate you into following him from now on, threatening you with Publius if you refused. But you didn't want to leave; you just wanted to see Lucius one more time and find out what he had told Darius. Unfortunately, you now found yourself as Elagabalus' puppet; he wanted you to escort him to Palatine Hill, and you had no choice but to obey.

The next day, as you sat helplessly in your cell, anxiously awaiting news of Lucius and your children, you heard footsteps approaching. You stood up immediately, hoping it could be Darius. One of the guards ordered others to open the cell door and looked at you with a firm expression.

"My lady, come with me," he said, gently gesturing for you to follow.

You complied and walked in the direction he indicated. Together, you stepped out into the courtyard. As you walked alongside the guard toward the great hall, disappointment settled in your stomach like a stone. You did not wish to see Elagabalus—not now, not ever. Inside the hall, Darius stood with an empty expression that offered no comfort.

"Aurelia! Come, I have good news for you," Elagabalus exclaimed excitedly.

But as you locked eyes with Varus standing ominously beside him, a foreboding sense of dread washed over you. What he deemed "good news" felt like a cruel jest.

"I will be crowned today," he proclaimed, his voice echoing through the hall, "and I have decided to hold a public banquet in the Roman Forum tomorrow to celebrate."

You rolled your eyes. As if you gave a damn. I hope people of Rome stab you to death at that banquet, you thought.

“It's not wise to keep mourning so short, though nothing about you is wise,” you muttered.

“Oh, I like your frankness, it's much better than cowardly lying.” He gestured for you to come closer.

Reluctantly, you obeyed.

“I want you with me at the banquette.”

“That’s hardly surprising. Is that what you consider good news?” you replied, skepticism dripping from your tone.

"Right, the good news is that I can't keep you in a cell any longer, so I've decided that you will stay in the Domus Tiberiana. Even better, your nephew Publius will be there with you. See? I'm not that cruel."

His lighthearted remarks left you feeling unsettled, though the prospect of having Publius by your side provided some relief.

“What? Aren’t you going to express your gratitude? How rude of you,” he taunted.

Was he truly joking?

"I'm sure you placed lots of guards in there. It sounds like a bigger cell to me," you remarked, rolling your eyes.

"For your protection and little Publius, dear," he replied with a grin.

"I think you need more protection," you hinted. "Especially from me."

He chuckled and glanced at Varus. "What a woman! She never gives up, does she?"

"She certainly doesn't," Varus said, smiling at you.

You averted your gaze from both of them.

"What do you say we share our decision with her?"

"As you wish, Your Majesty," Varus replied, his voice tinged with excitement.

“Varus has done so much for me; I owe him my very presence here. Therefore, I wish to reward him with something worthy.”

"I don’t care what kind of reward he receives!" you shouted, your frustration boiling over.

He crossed his arms, a glint of foreboding hidden behind his smile. "You should, because you are the reward."

A shiver ran down your spine. "Excuse me?"

"General Varus is an honorable man who deserves respect. He merits a good marriage, and since you are a widow, you are his best potential match."

You shook your head fervently, disbelief etched on your face. "Never…’" you mumbled, the mere thought twisting your stomach into knots. "I would never marry him! Never!"

Elagabalus frowned, his expression suddenly serious. "I believe you misunderstand me, Aurelia. I'm not seeking your opinion."

Varus cleared his throat, bowing his head slightly. "This marriage would be the greatest honor I could ever receive, Your Majesty. I am truly grateful."

"Good, then let the preparations begin,’" Elagabalus declared, an air of finality tinging his words.

It was all too much. You wanted to scream, to fight against the tide of fate that threatened to engulf you, but you felt paralyzed, trembling with fear and anger. The worst torment imaginable seemed to come for you at every turn, leaving you struggling to find the strength to continue living in such a harrowing reality.

“How is his condition?” Marcus asked, anxiety tightening his voice. Marcius lay still, his eyes closed and face pale, every shallow breath causing his small chest to rise and fall.

“He’s better,” Lucius replied. “He’s fighting with everything he has, I assure you.” He hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the swelling around the injury. “Infection is starting to build up, though. I need to prepare some more ointment.”

“When will he open his eyes?” Marcus asked, his voice shaking.

He sighed, “We’ll have to wait a bit longer for that. Rest assured, I’m doing everything I can.”

“I can't thank you enough, Lucius. You’re my brother now,” Marcus said sincerely.

Lucius nodded and smiled at him before leaving the room.

After he left, Marcus sat beside his little boy, thinking of you as he stroked his head. "My son, are you waiting for your mother to open her eyes? I promise I will bring her back," he said. He bent down to kiss the top of his son's head.

As he sat there, his gaze landed on a familiar dress among the items brought from the villa. He picked it up, the fabric delicate in his fingers, and brought it to his nose. The scent—your scent—enveloped him like a cherished memory. He returned to the bed, sinking into the fabric's embrace as he buried his nose in it once more.

"Aurelia, my beloved wife, my radiant sun. How can I find rest in this dark abyss while you are imprisoned in their merciless grasp? How can I remain still, waiting patiently, when I know you are alone in anguish, tears brimming in your eyes? Every moment without you feels like an endless dungeon, suffocating and cold," he said, his voice choked as he wiped the warm tears cascading down his cheeks.

His gaze shifted to Marcius, who murmuring softly in his dreams. “My son, you were born into a world besieged by ruthless tyrants and treacherous souls. They will always covet what you possess and conspire to bring you harm simply because of who you are destined to be. But you must stand resolute; you must never yield to their demands. You will emerge as a valiant and honorable warrior, just like me, and you will place the traitors where they belong—defeated and discredited. An honorable warrior does not take what is not rightfully theirs and does not fall without a fierce struggle.”

There was a soft knock at the door and Marcus got up to open it. It was Cato. "Sir, Commander Darius is here."

"Let's go," he said, closing the door quietly behind him as he left the room. He hoped Darius had news of you.

Everyone had gathered in the courtyard, waiting for Marcus to arrive. When Darius saw Marcus, he pushed back his hood and saluted him. “General.”

“Darius, have you spoken to Lady Aurelia?” Marcus asked, his tone filled with hope.

Darius shook his head. “Unfortunately, sir, I didn’t have a chance." He exhaled nervously. "Lady Aurelia is no longer being held in the cell.”

Marcus frowned. “How so? Where is she?”

“Elagabalus had her sent to the Domus Tiberiana. He also had Publius sent with her, claiming he was not that cruel when he said that, that bastard,” Darius growled.

“At least she won't be stuck in a cell; she'll be more comfortable in the palace,” Marcus muttered, the pain evident in his voice when he says that.

“Perhaps, sir, but he has clearly lost his sanity. Elagabalus is preparing to negotiate a deal with the Carthaginians. He asserts that it is a promise made in exchange for the throne.”

“What specific terms does this deal involve?”

“He intends to relinquish the southern territories to the Carthaginians, which includes the significant cities of Alexandria and Sicily,” he explained.

“He’s truly gone mad!” Octavius bellowed, his voice echoing like thunder in the dimly lit chamber. “We can’t let this happen; we must take action immediately. Sir?”

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Marcus, awaiting his response.

"Of course we won't let him, we'll bury him in that throne! We need to be clever about this. Fortunately, he still has Darius by his side, and we should use that to our advantage to devise a smart plan. We will involve the senators who remain loyal to Geta. But until then, we must all conceal the fact that we are alive. This is crucial. Do you all understand?”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Octavius looked uneasy. “Sir, I can accept our situation, but it pains me that all of Rome believes you are dead. It's so unfair.”

“We must be patient, Octavius,” Marcus said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “These are just a few of the obstacles we face, but they will not stop us.”

Darius exhaled. "Acacius, your death is officially recorded, and the law is unforgiving in this matter."

Marcus frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I apologize for saying this, but, according to law, Lady Aurelia is now a widow, and—"

"And? Darius, what are you saying?" Marcus asked.

Taking another deep breath, Darius said while locking his eyes on Marcus', "Elagabalus is setting a marriage arrangement between Lady Aurelia and Varus."

A palpable silence descended upon the room as everyone looked at Marcus wide-eyed.

In a sudden burst of anger, Marcus grabbed Darius by the collar and shouted, "What did you just say? Tell me this isn't true!"

Darius lowered his head and replied, "I'm sorry, Acacius, but I heard it with my own ears. He's already ordered preparations to begin."

"What nonsense!" Aris shouted.

"We must kill him at once!" Felix added.

"We can't allow it!" Cato protested.

"Acacius, let’s move and take him down right now," Octavius said, then he turned Darius. "Darius, gather all the praetorians and together we will kill this cunt tonight!"

Darius shook his head. “I wish I could, but Varus commands too many, having dismissed and suspended several of my men. They are closely observing my every move, and the risk is too great. If we were to fail, it could endanger Lady Aurelia or Publius. And, I am well aware that the Domus Tiberiana is filled with soldiers whom he chose specifically."

Marcus stood in the dim glow of flickering torches, his heart racing as silence surrounded him like a heavy shroud. He had to act, he had to do something. "I have to see her," he burst out, desperation lacing his voice.

"They've already taken her to the Domus Tiberiana," Darius cautioned.. "You can't go in there. If they recognize you..."

"She has been through worse than any of us! It’s a miracle she’s still holding on. She needs to know I’m alive — she needs to know her son Marcius is alive. I can’t bear the thought of her all alone there." His voice grew softer, filled with a deep yearning. "I just need to see her, even if only for a moment."

Darius ran a hand through his hair, contemplating. "Well, we can’t enter through the main gate, but perhaps there’s a way through the river. You know, Emperor Geta once considered imprisoning his mother, Julia Domna, there before sending her into exile." He paused, his eyes brightening with the spark of an idea. "I ordered my men to scout potential escape routes, and there’s one Varus's men are completely unaware of. It leads from the river straight to the west courtyard and then to the baths — it’s a drainage route."

"That’s brilliant!" Marcus said. "If I can navigate to the baths, I might be able to slip past the soldiers guarding the inside."

"We’ll help you," Octavius insisted, his face set with determination.

"No, we can’t draw attention. I have to go alone," Marcus protested. "I don’t intend to spill any blood; I just need to see Aurelia."

Octavius shook his head fiercely. "I refuse to send you in there alone."

"It's a risk we can't take, Octavius."

Darius glanced at him. "It certainly is, but Acacius, I’m curious."

"About what?"

"Are you as skilled at climbing as you are at fighting?"

"You doubt my abilities?" Marcus teased.

"Consider that I never asked," Darius smirked.

"What about the soldiers in the courtyard and around garden sir?" Cato inquired.

"I can handle that," Lucius chimed in, approaching them with a smug smile.

"Without detected? How?" Marcus asked, his curiosity piqued. "

"I'll explain if you allow me to accompany you," Lucius replied with a sly smile. "Besides, I'm much better at climbing than any of you.”

The Domus Tiberiana was a long-abandoned palace located in the northwestern corner of the Palatine Hill. Unlike the Domus Severiana, its entrance was not from the main road but rather further inland. It featured a large gate with iron bars, and one had to pass through an extensive garden to reach the courtyard. By the time you arrived, the slaves and guards meant to serve you were already present. When the soldiers brought you into this modest palace, especially in comparison to others, around noon, it felt as if you were entering into a cell again—only larger. The heavy thud of the door slamming shut made you feel like you were cut off from everything outside. You couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped like a tiger in a cage, just like one you’d seen in the dim underground passage of the Colosseum. It hit you that, much like that tiger, you were going to be used when the time was right. At least the tiger had it better, you thought; its death would be quick and decisive, and it might take a few of its enemies down with it.

But you?

You felt completely helpless against your foes, stuck with nothing but the weight of your situation. You had yet to avenge the loss of Marcus, your son, your little girl, and your brother Geta. They had all been taken from you one by one, and it felt as if you could barely breathe without them. Damn survival instinct, you thought. It wouldn't be long, though; you had to make sure Varus was dead before you could reunite them in the afterlife. Then it wouldn't be an issue to die.

That evening, as you looked out over the Tiber River from the balcony of what was supposed to be your new room, you realized how lonely you were. You could no longer trust the slaves who assisted you with changing and brought you food, nor could you rely on the guards in the courtyard and at the entrance. As you gazed at the hill ahead, thoughts of Marcus filled your mind. Just beyond that hill lay your villa and meadow, and you would have given anything to return to those days.

“If only I had stopped Marcus that day and somehow prevented him from leaving,” you sighed to yourself. Accepting the reality that he was no longer alive was unbearable; it felt as if it would swallow you whole, leaving nothing behind.

Publius' presence beside you provided a semblance of strength, much like the burning desire for vengeance within you. He was a perfect copy of his father, with the same eyes and hair, and that was all that was left of Geta. Looking at him, memories of Marcius flooded your mind. A part of you wanted to believe he was still alive, but your logic insisted he couldn't have survived the arrow.

And your little girl? You could barely bear to think of her; she was so tiny, the mere thought of anything happening to her made you shudder. Beneath all this pain, it felt as if the temple of Jupiter had collapsed, crushing you beneath its great marble pillars.

Just then, there was a knock at the door, and one of the slaves entered with your permission. "My lady, General Varus is here," he said, then left the room.

General... you thought. There was only one general for you.

But this could be an opportunity. If you could be alone with him, maybe you had a chance. You desperately wished you had the knife Marcus gave you on your ankle right now. But it wasn't, and you had to deal with it in another way. Your gaze was fixed on the knife on the tray that the slaves had brought. It had been intended for cutting bread; it was small, but it would do. You picked it up and examined it. It wasn't as sharp as your knife, but if you could aim for the right spot, or stab with it... You recalled everything Marcus had taught you, trying to memorize each lesson. It was extremely difficult to plan this attack against a soldier, especially a commander. You had only one chance, and failure was not an option since you had already attempted to attack him twice before.

You tucked the knife between the fabric of your belt and checked it before leaving the room. Taking a deep breath, you left to meet him.

"You can do this, you can do this," you murmured to yourself as you walked down the corridor to the courtyard. Varus stood in the corner, examining the bust of Emperor Nero. Your confidence grew when you saw he was unarmored, wearing his official toga in shades of purple and blue. He was actually quite vulnerable, as his back was turned. However, he quickly turned around when he heard your footsteps.

“Lady Aurelia,” he said.

You averted your gaze. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“I realize you don't like me, but you must respect me.”

“Respect is earned. It’s not something you get from clothes or rank. And I promise you, you'll never earn my respect.”

He grinned as he approached you. “Is that so? I'm a determined man, Aurelia. I always get what I desire; you can see that from my current position.” He continued walking towards you, causing you to instinctively take a step back. “You were something I desired, too, and I’m about to have you. Perhaps I won’t earn your respect, but I will gain something else.”

You felt nauseous as he observed your body with a hungry, wolf-like stare. Instead of slapping him, you decided to provoke him; deliberately, you took another step backward. “What is it?” you asked, playing the fool.

He looked suspicious as he kept walking towards you, and it seemed like he was enjoying it. With nowhere else to go, you leaned against the wall, standing at attention with one hand on your belt as he took another step closer. “You and everything that belongs to you,” he said.

You were taken aback when he cupped your chin in his large hand firmly. His eyes were fixed on your lips, and you knew it was the perfect moment.

You drew the knife from your belt with your right hand, aimed it at his stomach and tried to stab him there. Though not as deep as you would have wished, the knife managed to pierce his abdomen and toga. Seizing the opportunity presented by his astonishment, you lunged at him again, this time aiming for his neck. You resisted with all your strength as he held you tightly by both arms, but eventually your smaller frame was no match for his strength, and you succumbed to the struggle. But not before you cut his bare arm deep enough to draw blood. Groaning in pain, he grabbed your hair and pulled viciously, then slammed you to the ground.

"You stubborn whore!" he shouted as he stared down at his bleeding wound in shock.

The look of bewilderment on his face made you laugh as you slowly pushed yourself up from the stone floor. He came up angrily, grabbing your hair. "I won't do anything to your face to make you appear ugly at the wedding, but I promise that once you become my wife, I will do things to you that will make you wish you had never been born!"

He shouted and shoved you. You fell to the ground once more, and as your cheek pressed against the cold stone floor, tears began to flow—not because you were hurt, but because you had missed your chance.

The slaves had heard the noises, and while Varus was leaving the palace, they came to you and helped lift you from the ground. You ordered them to leave you alone and not to enter the courtyard to disturb you again.

It was so close; you almost killed him, but the opportunity had slipped away. You picked up the knife from the floor and sat on the lectus. You could never marry him—no, you could never be someone else's wife, and you could never let him touch you. Instead, death was a better option. As you looked at the knife, you actually thought it might be a good thing to take your own life right there, right now. Then there would be no princess for Varus to wed, nor for Elagabalus to use her power for his benefit. Moreover, it was the only way to relieve all your pain, you knew it.

Marcus and Lucius were being overly cautious as they sneaked along the banks of the Tiber and into the underground corridors of the Domus Tiberiana. It was a short but troubling path. According to Darius' account, they first had to pass through Velabrum and climb the walls leading from the edge of the Magna Mater temple to the south garden of the palace. Lucius was just as good at climbing as he claimed to be, chuckling while Marcus panted a little.

“If I were your age, I’d climb faster than you, I promise.”

“Or, are you complaining about your age, General?”

“Never! I’m just saying the conditions aren’t equal.”

Lucius jumped into the garden, waiting for him. “Fair enough. Where to now?”

“To Domitian's ramp. That will take us directly to the inner courtyard.” Marcus gestured for Lucius to crouch. “There it is,” he said, pointing ahead.

“This looks like a ramp with a lot of turns, and I see some soldiers.”

“Praetorians,” Marcus hissed. “I count three. No one would dare sneak in here; most of them are guarding the entrance. If we can get past these two, the others will be easier to deal with. Remember, we can’t let them see us. Killing is not an option. Knocking them out is a last resort, though I’m not sure how you’re going to do that.”

“You don’t trust me, General? You’re hurting my feelings.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “If I didn’t trust you, I would have come alone.”

Lucius looked at him earnestly. “I’m here for her. I’ll give you all the time you need, but remember, you’re the one they think is dead. Don't expose yourself to anyone. I won’t let her get hurt again because of you.”

Marcus gave him a stern look. “I’m already here because I can’t bear to see her hurt anymore. So stop getting on my nerves and follow me.”

“After you,” Lucius growled.

They both tried to be very quiet as they climbed up the ramp. When the first guard turned his back, they hurried around the corner, passing him and the second guard. But when they reached the courtyard, they saw two guards standing side by side in a corner. To get behind them, they would have to go around the fountain, but that seemed too risky. Just then, one of the guards moved into the garden, giving them the opportunity to approach the other guard from behind.

It was impossible to reach the other courtyard without passing him, so they had to neutralise him. Lucius poured a small vial of herbal medicine onto a cloth and, reaching from behind, forced the guard to sniff it. The guard struggled, but the overpowering scent made him lose consciousness. They quickly hid him in a nearby bush.

"Impressive, what is this?" Marcus asked while looking around.

"Hyoscyamus niger," Lucius replied. "It has a knockout effect, and this is a concentrated essence I made. He'll come to his senses in the morning."

"Good. Her chambers should be located in the courtyard beyond."

"Very well, I'll wait here for your return."

Marcus nodded, but before he could take a step forward, Lucius called out to him, “Be careful.”

“You too,” Marcus replied.

Once he reached the courtyard, Marcus noticed that it was quiet; no one was around. He cursed under his breath when he spotted two guards near the entrance, close to the stairs leading to your chambers. Although they couldn't hear him from that distance, it was still too dangerous—he needed to find another route.

As he turned toward the courtyard, he caught sight of a woman with her back turned to him. The color of her hair, how it fell over her shoulder, and her posture made his heart skip a beat. It was definitely you.

He glanced around before taking a cautious step closer. The courtyard was deserted; not a slave or anyone else was in sight. The guards wouldn’t be here at this hour, and he wouldn’t have cared if they were. He longed to see your face, to touch your skin, to hear your voice—and now, here was his chance.

As you looked at the knife in your hand, the weight of guilt for what you were about to do filled your mind. “It's just a cut,” you reminded yourself. “You know where to cut; just do it.” Taking a deep breath, you pressed the knife just above the carotid artery. “If you're alive, forgive me, Marcus,” you thought, hearing light footsteps approaching from behind. You didn't turn around; you couldn't let anyone stop you now. Marcus hadn't seen the knife in your hand and was unaware of your intentions. He pushed back his hood and smiled as he took in your appearance from behind.

“My lady...”

This voice... That velvety, deep voice that your ears had longed to hear once more. The voice you never thought you would hear again. You were so surprised that, for a moment, you forgot you were holding a knife. Your hand began to tremble, and the sharp edge of the blade cut your skin, leaving a thin line. But you didn’t care; you didn’t even feel it. Your whole body was numbed by the desire to see the face of the voice’s owner.

When you stood up, turned around, and finally saw his face, your entire body began to shake as if you were about to have a stroke. You even forgot how to breathe. As you stared at him with your mouth agape, he stepped closer and looked at you with that wonderful smile. When he touched your face with his hands, tears began to flood your eyes, followed by uncontrollable sobs. Suddenly he realised the cut on your neck, and the knife in your hand. He immediately picked up the knife.

“Aurelia, what were you doing—”

The concern etched on his handsome face took your breath away. How stunningly beautiful he looked…

“Marcus,” you whispered, still in disbelief at his presence. “Is this really you? Am I dead? Or have you resurrected?”

His warm brown eyes sparkled as they locked onto yours, radiating a sense of comfort and love. “No, my love. You are not dead, and I am not resurrected. I have navigated and dismantled all the enemy's traps and came back to you.”

Overwhelmed with emotion, you leaped into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest. As he held you close, the rhythm of his heartbeat felt like a soothing lullaby, and he tenderly stroked your hair, bringing a few strands to his nose to inhale your familiar, heavenly scent. In that moment, his heart soared, relieved to be in this blissful haven once again. It felt so divine to be enveloped by his strong arms that you shut your eyes tight, praying this wasn’t just a dream.

“You never left, anyway,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “You’ve always been with me. Everywhere I turned, there you were. If my soul hasn’t departed from my body, it’s because I hold onto the belief that you are alive, Marcus.”

He ran his lips through your hair and kissed your forehead. "How could I ever leave you and our children? I would rise again, even if I died, just to look into your beautiful eyes one more time and hear your sweet voice again."

His words sent a delicate ache through your heart at the mention of “our children.” As tears streamed down your cheeks, he took your hands—still encircling his neck—and kissed them with an air of reverence. Then, he tenderly examined the cut on your neck, his gaze filled with concern.

“My beautiful princess,” he said softly, “I see the pain you’ve endured and the wounds in your heart. I have come to cleanse you of all your suffering and heal your wounds.” He then kissed your lips with deep longing.

As you reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, your heart ached with the weight of unspoken fears. “Marcus, our son... our daughter... I couldn't protect them,” you confessed, your gaze drooping as despair clouded your vision. But to your astonishment, you watched as a warm smile spread across his lips. He leaned closer, brushing his lips against yours once more, tenderly, almost reverently. “They’re alive, my love,” he reassured you.

He pressed another kiss to your lips, savoring the moment, realizing just how deeply he had missed the look of sweet surprise on your face, every subtle gesture, every intricate detail of your being.

“Is that true?” you asked, hope creeping into your voice.

“It’s true, my love. Believe me, my darling."

Suddenly, a huge smile spread across his face, and your sobs turned into giggles as you hugged him again. It was almost as if all your wounds had healed; you felt alive once more.

“Thank the gods, Marcus. It’s so good to touch you again, to be wrapped in your arms. With you here, I feel complete,” you breathed.

He held you close, pressing you tightly against him, resting his chin atop your head as if anchoring you both in that perfect moment. “So am I, my love, you are my reason for being. Forgive me for being late; I will never let you suffer such pain again,” he promised with a fierce intensity.

“Now that you’re here, touching me, all my pain has vanished,” you whispered, overwhelmed by the warmth of his presence.

A playful grin spread across his face, and he leaned down to claim your lips once more, kissing you deeply, passionately, and with an abundance of love. As he pulled you closer, he lifted you up and spun you around, your delighted giggles ringing out like music in the courtyard.

But the enchantment was abruptly shattered as you heard footsteps approaching, dragging you back to the bittersweet reality of your surroundings.

“I can’t let them see me,” Marcus said anxiously.

“Hide over there,” you said pointing to the space behind the column. He lovingly kissed your hand before finding his hiding spot.

One of the guards stopped when he saw you. “My lady? I heard a noise. Is everything all right?”

“Yes, you can return to your post. I will retire to my room now,” you replied, a calm authority laced in your voice.

He dipped his head in respect, turning on his heel and walking away. Once he was out of sight, you turned to Marcus. “Come with me.” You took his hand, your grip firm as if afraid you might lose him if you didn't hold on tight.

Marcus smiled as he walked beside you, admiring your beautiful face. His heart felt light as he accompanied you to your chambers, a smile dancing on his lips.

@orcasoul @pedroslut4eva @immyowndefender @lailathepedritofan @screechingchildfury @shinymusicpanda @somedayheaven @ivoryandflame @negrita2345 @music-lover09 @javiismyhsbnd @idontcareihavenoidea @jisungandpedrolover @mmkkzz @ro-nahime-things @indiegirlunited @kluvspedro @movievillainess721 @berriesarepunk @bonadeamo @heramj @blushingwueen @smoochispoof @littlemisspascal @kirashess @okaaaadereeee

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your likes, comments and reblogs are soo important to me, and thank you for all support, love you all❤️

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#fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #pedro pascal gifs #pedro pascal fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius #gladiator ii #marcus acacias x reader #marcurelia #marcus acacius x oc #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x female reader #the gladiator 2 #gladiator ll #gladiator 2

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grabby-smitten · 21 hours ago

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Pairing: Fairy!Rafayel x F!Reader

CW: Blurb, size kink if you squint, magic, fairy stuff, human reader, suggestive. Fairy as in palm-sized Rafayel. Very unserious. MDNI. Unedited, no beta. We die like Grams.

Your boyfriend was a peculiar one, to say the least. A literal pocket boyfriend. Well, he fits in your shirt pockets and doesn’t seem to mind.

Rafayel, an art fairy, was a very charming little creature. That’s how he got you all wrapped around his little fingers. He would not leave you alone until you accepted his date invitation. Well, charming and persistent.

A dramatic fella too. He would practically die if you ever stopped paying attention to him. You still remember how many times he had gracefully crumbled to the ground like an autumn leaf if you paid attention to anything that wasn’t him for far too long. He would even accidentally, according to him, scatter fairy dust over any male who spend more than a minute in your presence.

Seeing different men and creatures ran away sneezing and crying was a usual thing with Rafayel in your life. You just shook your head as he acted all innocent like they were the ones at fault.

If anyone ever told you that you would have been in a long-lasting relationship with a tiny itty-bitty fairy, you would have laughed in their faces but now? It was your reality and you wouldn’t change Rafayel for anyone else.

He too, was so proud of his human girlfriend. every time you two visited fairylands, he would flaunt you around. His big and adorable other half. He would sit in your palm and make a show of the situation and you would look at him with brows furrowed and a sigh but smiling, nonetheless. Human or supernatural world, you two were a strange sight.

Affection was something Rafayel never shied away from. He would rather you have him in between your tits instead of your pockets, according to him it was fun bouncing around there. He would kiss your cheeks nonstop while walking and then sit on your shoulders all proud of leaving you flustered.

At home, it was the same. He would kiss your eyelids every morning and flutter around your bedhead, trying to tame your wild hair. A sport he proudly practices every day without fail.

“Good morning, cutie,” Rafayel would say as he nuzzled himself into your cheek. His amethyst hair all frizzled but his smile never wavered.

“Morning, Raf,” you would lazily rasp out. “Five more minutes and I’ll go, promise.”

“Yeah, sure. You say that every morning.” But still, he let you sleep a bit longer while he prepared breakfast.

Magic. It was the wheels carrying this relationship. How did he make breakfast for a human? Magic, duh. That’s what he told you the first time you asked. Not only breakfast but… other areas as well.

The intimacy talk was awkward for you most of the time. You were all red and fidgety while he was buzzing with excitement.

You didn’t mind Rafayel trying to slip in between your thighs but at the last moment, you always ended up stopping him. He would make a whole scene of how you were preventing him from the joys in life. Then he would clutch his chest, eyes full of despair and act wounded.

He would demand you open your legs for him with a face as red as a tomato, little fists shaking and wings batting nonstop behind him. “Let me in!”

Rafayel didn’t mind the size difference and even got handsy a few times, out of desperation. Going straight for your nipple and you screaming and almost swatting him like a fly.

“Warn me first!”

“You’re the one walking naked!” Of course, he would say that.

“I was showering!” You exclaimed with a bit of exasperation in your voice.

“Exactly my point!” Rafayel replied just as exasperated as you. Clearly, he wasn’t gonna let you win.

Again, he offered to give you head and you looked at him horrified. Not that you didn’t want to but…

“You could drown in there!” You pointed down to emphasize.

“No, I wouldn’t.” He just crossed his arms, pouted and denied it shaking his head.

“Yes, you would.”

“Okay, maybe but at least I would die happy.” He said, throwing you a triumphant smirk.

“Rafayel, I’m serious!”

“Me too! Just thinking about it gets me hard!” How was he more upset than you about not being able to eat you out…

So a solution must be found before Rafayel looses his marbles. As soon as you bought up the topic of too much of a size difference that’s why you were scared, he found the solution in a blink of an eye.

“Cookies? Like Alice in wonderland?” You attentively analyzed the jar of colorful cookies Rafayel just brought home. Some were your normal size while others were almost… breadcrumbs.

“Who?”

“You don’t— never mind. So you eat it and you grow?”

“Or you eat and you get tiny like me, but still. I don’t think it really matters. I want you.” His gaze heated as his demeanor changed into something more serious, a heaviness and intensity too overwhelming for such a small being.

“So…” you hummed pensively, a bit nervous from his sudden fierce expression. “What shall we try first?”

A.N: from a meme… a meme… A MEME 😂😂 here's the old meme. okay, I hope yall enjoy it. ✨He was a fairy✨ No smut bc I wanna see how the concept goes within this fandom. Also, keep in mind fairies kidnap humans.

#omificstags #rafayel x reader #lads rafayel #tw teratophilia #size k!nk cw #fairy!rafayel #love and deepspace #lads rafayel x reader #lnds rafayel #l&ds rafayel

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izvmimi · 2 days ago

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cw: reader has textured hair. fluff. feet mention ig.

“Quit staring at me,” you finally pipe up, after pretending to ignore the audacious pirate whose gaze has not shifted in the least in the past ten minutes. You’re not even doing anything interesting - just in the throes of the sometimes complicated process of detangling your hair after a wash, and being stared at like a curiosity might just put you on edge.

But that’s not why Luffy’s staring at you, is it?

“Why not?” he asks, instead moving closer, so that half his torso is laying prone at the foot of your bed. His eyes are still on you, watching carefully as you comb through curls carefully and preserve them in thick braids.

“It’s distracting. Feels like there’s something gross on my face.”

Luffy props himself up by his elbows, he tilts his head. “But I’d tell you,” he replies simply.

You frown.

“That’s not the point, Luffy,” you insist, nudging at him gently with your foot. Without moving any of the rest of his body, he grabs your foot in his left hand, his grip strong enough that you find that it’s not an easy feat to pull it back. His gaze shifts to your foot for a second, and you almost worry he’ll put it in his mouth, before he decides not to, and goes back to staring right in your face.

“What’s the point then?” he asks.

He hasn’t let go of your foot yet, now stroking at the sole gently with his thumb. It tickles and you tense a little and he grins as you come up with an answer that will satisfy someone as straightforward as him.

“Maybe I feel a little self conscious,” you murmur, finally.

“About what?” he asks. “You’re pretty and there’s nothing on your face.”

He’s so simple at times that it’s both frustrating and reassuring. He draws closer, climbing onto the bed, then adjusts the damp towel over your shoulders.

“I can’t be that interesting to look at,” you insist.

Luffy clasps your face in his hands. “Interesting isn’t the word for it,” he admits, and you’re wondering if he’s about to upset you, but he smiles and presses a kiss to your lips.

“I just feel happy when I look at you. Even when you’re telling me to go away.”

His words stir in your chest, and you find yourself biting your lower lip as you look into his eyes.

“I’ve already backed off touching you as much as I want to. Let me have this?” he asks. He doesn’t whine this time, but nods slowly, eager for you to agree.

You lean forward, and let your lips join his again.

“Fine. But also consider taking pictures sometimes. It’ll last longer.”

He pouts.

“But they’re not you, and-” He pulls you in his lap, and you expected you’d end up like this, so you nestle comfortably in his hold, “-you’ll last forever.”

“Are you telling me I’ll never die, Mr. Sun God?”

“Yup. We’ll both live forever,” he says.

You find yourself laughing, then allow him to breathe in the scent of your conditioned hair.

“I’ll trust you then,” you say.

But you do make a note to see if the next time you dock near a city, you can take some pictures together. Even if he prepares to just stare at you as is, you want to see your smiles side by side.

Just in case.

#luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy fluff #daydreams: op #mimi's notes #can you tell these tags are annoying me LMFAO #lumimi

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sleepychenle · 2 days ago

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wc: 722. genre: fluff, enemies to ???. tags: haechan's friend!chenle, uni au, mentions of alcohol, kinda mean!chenle. [a/n]: yn is me. i sip on my drink everytime i feel awkward and end up drunk. it’s like a reflex istg. i still struggle w tags btw... lmk if these are not it lmao.

you have no idea why you decided to accept haechan’s invitation.

you’re not the type to party, but somehow it felt like you should go. as if you were going to witness some crazy drama or someone’s entertaining canon event tonight. if you only knew…

as you make your way to the entrance, it hits you. you don’t know anyone here besides haechan, who will be hosting the party and, of course, won’t be with you all night.

“oh hi, yn!” you blink as haechan makes you snap out of your thoughts. “come with me, i’ll introduce you to my friends so you’re not bored while you’re without me” can he read minds? you follow him with no response other than a nervous smile and a small nod.

and it wasn’t that bad! even, you thought you could get along with them… specially with renjun. just for the fact that neither of you wanted to be there. they were all pretty chill guys. all except chenle. the guy that you got paired with to do some calculus homework a couple days before.

he was so stubborn and full of himself… he wouldn’t wait for you to finish and he would lose it whenever you made a mistake. you couldn’t stand each other so you both agreed to work on it separatedly.

you’re not sure when it happened, but now you have a glass of who-knows-what in your hand, sipping every time you felt like chenle was staring at you, probably hating at a distance… and that was, pretty much all the time. that’s how you started to feel tipsy. what a good idea yn! drink every time you feel awkward… what were you thinking? you think to yourself as you sigh.

you decide to go to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. so you excuse yourself and try to make your way there. you are currently in a state where you can’t fully control your body, often bumping into people. but at least you could still think straight… right?

suddenly, you bump into another person. causing you to trip and fall to the floor. or that’s what you thought would happen. you open your eyes and see chenle. you never fell. you can feel his arm wrapped around your waist, and something else… his whole body pressed against yours.

“watch out, yn” he says, with a hint of worry in his tone, but you wouldn't notice anyways. his gaze intense on your features. why isn’t he cursing? why is he looking at me like that? he doesn’t look too bad... not at all.

“you’re kinda hot when you’re not grumpy…” you murmur your thoughts out, gripping his shirt as though you’d fall if you didn’t. he hums. “am i now?” “…can’t say it happens often, though” you press your eyes closed, regretting what you just said. it looks like it’s the only body part you have control of now.

he helps you stand on your feet again, finally (and reluctantly) letting go of you. he bows slightly, as if signaling he is about to go. but then, you call him almost… desperately? “wait!” you don’t even know why you stopped him, and now you have to make an excuse for it. “uhh… did you finish the exercises?”

he turns around “i did… why? you need help with yours?” chenle says with that smug expression he always seems to save just for you. “no… i didn’t want that” your voice get quieter. he raises an eyebrow and gets closer again… incredibly close “oh? what did you want then, yn?”

oh how i love when he calls me by my name… why am i even thinking about this? there is no use in hiding it anymore, right? no, wait yn. think for a moment- “a kiss” you manage to say, so low that only him could hear it… as if it was forbidden.

his smirk widens. and his face is a mixture between amusement and surprise. he leans down and you close your eyes, preparing for the so-wanted kiss. but instead, his mouth hovers right next to your ear and he whispers “ask me again when you’re sober, will you?” he pulls away with a smile and walks away. leaving you there, stunned, flustered and cursing at yourself for not being sober enough.

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luckypunklemonade · 1 day ago

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| "I'm Going Nowhere You Won't Find Me."

[Smut MDNI 18+; Established relationship; fem!reader; 3k words] BackwardsCap! Stiles Stilinski didn't mean to worry you. Don't worry, he'll make amends.

This work belongs to me, luckypunklemonade (Minte_Condition on AO3). I do not give anyone permission to distribute or share my work without consent.

“You could’ve gotten shot?!”

You slapped the table, standing up as Scott spouts excuses. All “I didn’t even want to go in!” and Stiles counters with “Scott found the key! And he wasn’t gonna shoot me!”

You shake your head, trying not to overreact and deciding between if it’s okay now that they’re here and safe or if you should freak out. “Are you kidding?”

Stiles followed your unsure train of thought, “Look, we talked to him, and we left. He was never really gonna shoot us.”

You brushed him off and uncomfortably kept your eyes out the window into the dark. Imagining a gun pointed at your boyfriend and his best friend was already scary, given how often it could happen. He didn’t seem to understand your anxieties being on the outside. He thought the fact that it was over would calm you down. You did, too.

Your big issue was that he didn’t tell you he was about to enter a dangerous situation. You knew what you signed up for in being his girlfriend, but that was one of your requests. That he at least told you so you weren’t left with nothing. He promised you would never be in the dark if he could help it. It was a mutual agreement that you could help, so he’d trust you, and you’d trust him You weren’t mad, but you couldn’t articulate just how you felt. You figured you’d be able to after a night's rest and then some.

“You guys need to get home. It’s late, and your parents are probably worried and clueless.”

Scott nodded and grabbed his coat, but Stiles stood firm in front of you.

“C’mon, can we talk?”

He stepped up to you, hands sliding around your waist and asking for your attention.

You ignored the ploy, “Did you drive Scott here?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, get him home. It’s too late to be out in this town. Please.”

“Okay, okay,” he noted the frantic tone in your voice, emphasized by how much you knew about the supernatural in this town from him. Stiles grabbed his keys and walked with Scott outside. “Love you, honey.”

“Love you.”

And then he came back. You were lying in bed, taking deep breaths and winding down when he knocked. You shot up, sifting through what you know about the supernatural for something that could mimic his knock. You padded over the cold floor to the door and looked through the window at the top. It was Stiles. Of course, it was Stiles.

You opened the door, and Stiles stepped inside without hesitation. As you were closing and locking the door, he pulled you by the waist into him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Don’t be mad at me.”

“Stiles, I’m not mad. I just- I wish I weren’t left so clueless. I hate looking stupid, and then you come to me with something like this. I would feel much better if I had known you were going into that, I could’ve been prepared.”

Stiles smoothed your hair behind your ears, “I know it was stupid, and you should not have to suffer because of it.”

“I’m not saying you can’t go out and do whatever you want like you did before. I won’t ever want to change that. I don’t want to be the overbearing girlfriend who mothers you. I’m just– What if you go out there and get shot or hurt or worse, and I’m not there to help? I don’t want to be clueless and helpless when it comes to you. You know I’ll always be here for anything, and I can try to chill out, but-“

“Listen, you don’t need to do anything. I didn’t text you. That’s my fault. I agreed to let you know if I had planned anything stupid and failed. I wish you wouldn’t have to worry, but I’d do the same thing if it were reversed. I’m glad I have you on my side, okay? I’ll do better, I’m sorry.”

You huffed, not satisfied with him taking the full weight of shame that comes with an apology. “I just care about you. And Scott. I guess.”

He smiled and kissed your cheek, “Thank you.”

Another kiss, followed by several more peppered around your face, punctuated with, “Thank you, thank you, thank you-“

You cracked a smile and limply attempted to push him away. He shook his head, languidly walking you back from the front door into the kitchen. His lips followed in pace, listlessly pressed against your temple.

“I should’a known better. Should’a known you wouldn’t be satisfied with that.” He mumbled as he guided your hips to the counter. “Not my girl.”

“Well, it’s your girl’s bedtime.”

Stiles kissed behind your ear, just where he could reach, while he spoke in your ear. His voice was the same tone he used when he spoke up an innocent excuse, just a few octaves lower and so, so close. “Is it?”

“Yes, and you know how I get without sleep.”

You could practically hear him bare his teeth in a grin, his fingers tracing just beneath the hemline of your shirt, “How do you get?”

You laughed and pulled his hands away from your stomach, holding them in yours. He looked down at you, barely hiding how his eyes flicked to your lips every few seconds before ducking his head down into your neck. He subconsciously leaned into you, pressing your lower back into the counter. You felt him inhale deeply, his lips pressed into a spot just under where you applied your perfume. He went after the scent, however faded it was, and you felt him push his face deeper. His nose, his broad smile, his eyelashes all against your neck. He licked that spot on your throat before kissing it gratefully. His head dipped with each movement of his jaw, sucking at the point where he could feel your pulse on his lips. His fingers aimlessly tangled with yours on the counter behind you.

You had to give it to him. He could be reckless. Sometimes, it was hard to be his girlfriend, but he always made it up to you. He’d realized how little he’d been getting a hold of you and spend the next few days and nights with you, making sure you could see how much he loved you. He was erratic, but he wasn’t inconsistent with that part. He wasn’t on and off checking texts or stopping by; he was always committed to that, and it never stopped, but there were exceptions. Of course, you knew what you signed up for. He was worth it, you trusted him, and he was really good at making it up to you.

You brought your hand to the back of his neck, knocking his baseball cap sideways on his head. “M’sorry.”

Stiles bent slightly, hooking his hands on the backs of your thighs and lifting you up to sit on the counter. His smile hooked at the side, making every look of insane emotion sort of playful. He reached up, taking the hat off when you stopped him, “Keep it on.”

“Yeah?” His smirk grew more confident, a look you didn’t often see on the genuine side.

“Mhm. It’s hot.”

Stiles’s smile broke into a grin, although he was sort of distracted by the hickeys he’d left on your neck. Repeating what you say as fact, he let his eyes wander, “It’s hot.”

Your laugh pulled him back in, along with you grabbing a fistful of his flannel, “Very hot, sweetheart. Can you please fuck me now?”

It took him a second to think of a response, of course, after every thought he had was replaced with your words. “I can definitely do that.”

You helped him take his shirt off, repositioning the hat backward on his head after his shirt hit the floor. He smiled as you kissed his cheek and hooked your thumbs under his jeans, Mumbling against your lips as they traveled across his face and down to his neck, touching down every so often. Mumbling about how he’d wear whatever you told him if you liked it. Stopping you from doing any heavy lifting, he gently withdrew your hands from his waistband and led you to crawl into your bed. Instructing you to just sit there and look pretty, he slowly stepped out of his jeans and kneeled on the bed to help you with your shirt. At the pace he had going, by the time he had his eyes glued to your chest, you were already pushing your shorts down. When he saw your impatience, he chuckled and watched you struggle to maneuver them off underneath him. You huffed and gave up, moving your arms out of the way.

“Atta girl.”

Your interest in his new look made him cocky. The attitude that came with it was no doubt attractive. You found yourself searching for more openings for him to use his confidence and for you to encourage it. You started by humming at the praise, watching him drop your shorts off the side of the bed. At the same time Stiles leaned down to kiss you, your hands flattened against his lower stomach, against his happy trail. You both let out respective sounds of need, and Stiles’s hips lowered between your legs. With the feeling of his dick through the thin material of his boxers came your hips bucking softly. He opened his mouth and closed his eyes slowly, huffing out what was going to be a grunt. “Shit, honey. You make it so easy, don’t you?”

You hummed in response, letting him press himself into you and tell you fondly exactly what a guy like him should do to keep a girl like you happy. “I didn’t just know what I should just do with you, y’know. I thought about it a lot.” Stiles’s mouth turned up when he saw you weren’t really focused on his words. He leaned in, “Like a lot.”

“Mhm, just—“

“Alright, I know. You like it when I talk to you, though, right?”

“Yeah, honey. I like it.” You smiled up at him, the gears turning in his head. Stiles slowly dipped his head to your chest, sucking another mark into where the skin got plush. His eyes tracked yours, doing as much as he could while keeping your eyes on him. You’d been so frustrated lately, not just with Stiles. School issues, problems at work. The stress was irritating, but you couldn’t imagine what Stiles was going through. That understanding was a bare minimum in your mind, but for Stiles, you were the most considerate person in the world. He didn’t want to make you feel like he was just using you because you were available. So, he made sure to check every box he could for you.

“Fuckin’ love you.” He bit the breath coming out into his lip, and his eyelashes fluttered. He was doing everything to keep his eyes open and watch you. You mumbled it back, eyes squeezed shut as he thrust steadily, but he leaned his way into kissing your temple. “What was that? I’m sorry, honey, I can’t hear you.”

You cracked a smile; that’s all he wanted, but you ventured to use your hand buried in his hair to push his head back down so that his ear was by your lips. You held down a moan, replacing it with, “I love you, too.”

It came out with the same needy tone, though, and he found your mouth to kiss his smile onto yours. While he took a second to hold himself up and take a deep breath, your cheek rested against his wrist. When he felt you gently take his wrist between your teeth jokingly, he looked down and chuckled. “I deserve that. I’ll be a better boyfriend, promise.”

“Honey—“ You began, not wanting him to wallow in self-created guilt.

“I know, but still. Just let me…” Stiles’s smile opened as he moved his hips forward, hand molded around your thigh. He pushed himself deeper into you, eyes erratically trying to find something to focus on. Your face, your chest, your hands, down to where you took his dick so well, his eyes got overwhelmed. But he wasn’t going to close them. He’s not an idiot. He couldn’t figure out which would make him cum first. Closing his eyes and imagining you doing the thousand other things you had talked about, or keeping them open and watching you try to smile up at him through the haze, also struggling to keep your eyes up. It didn’t help that you tend to whine for him, showcasing how blank your mind really was. His thumb was less circling your clit than just trying to savor how messy he’d gotten you. He fed into his curiosity, which he would’ve done regardless of how good it made you feel, but especially because you arched your back off of the bed and pushed your hips up, meeting his thrusts, letting him bury himself deeper.

He encouraged you, feeling the need start to deepen, pushing him harder. He was driven, you’d told him, thank god he didn’t gamble. Anything verbal was hopeless. He just mumbled emphatically at each movement. He opened his mouth, a clue he was almost there. He just needed a little more. Just having him like that made you clench yourself around him, moaning when he almost lost his hold of himself above you.

“You gotta…” He almost ’woofed’ out his breath. “Fuck, honey, y’take it so good.”

His voice cracked on ‘honey,’ and you could see it sort of shook his confidence. He’d never really said anything like that with you. He was the first in the relationship to be vocal about most things. He said he loved you first, despite all the inner turmoil, even if it was sort of an accident. It was your encouragement that made him say it, your reaction to his confident demeanor. You saw an opening to make him feel good about himself; you took it. His eyes closed, gears turning and undoubtedly overthinking what he just said, but you said his name, prompting him to open his eyes and look at you.

With a sort of assured grin, you nodded at him, “Keep going. Wanna hear how well I take it.”

He mirrored your smile, getting shy about it, but his next thrust had him to the hilt and holding it there. You yelped a little at the feeling of him holding you, of him driven into you and bracing you while you squirmed. You moaned, and he twitched, hearing it sound like he’d knocked the wind from you. “Look at you. Fuck, you’re doing so good. Just like that for me.”

Mewling his name, extremities limp, you let him see exactly how much you liked seeing him try new things. He liked the way you tightened around his dick when he pushed himself inside little by little until you started to reach for his arm, and he’d stop there. You strained a little, taking deep breaths, the muscles in your stomach contracting and squeezing your cunt around him. You came around him, cursing and fawning. Stiles let out a groan that turned into useless and incomprehensible praise. His hips slowly retracted, slowly met yours again, speeding up until he found the release he was chasing. He struggled to keep the pace, though. He’d revert back to his other method, get restless, and try to keep up with his needs.

When Stiles came, his chest was pressed down against yours. All he had to do was turn his head, and he was kissing your neck again, breathing harshly. He built up the strength to roll over beside you and rest his head on your shoulder. He looked up at you with a little exhaustion when you sat up and brushed your fingers through his hair, the baseball cap forgotten for the time being. His fatigue was clear in his voice when he spoke, and he let his head roll off of your shoulder. “I’ll be better.”

You tilted your head, about to comment how what he just did was pretty damn good, but more than grateful he could recognize how stressed his being in danger made you. You leaned down to kiss his nose, laughing when he tried to croon his neck so that you met his lips. You reached over the side of the bed, your fingers finding the soft material of Stiles’s shirt and pulling it over your head. You managed to find his boxers as well, frowning when a hand took them from you. Stiles put them back on, still lying down and tired. You moved to sit on your heels next to him on the bed, your hand softly tracing shapes into his chest. Stiles tried really hard to keep his eyes open, but you ran your hand over his torso and up through his hair in a way you knew would put him out. He tried to keep talking, but every “mhmph” felt like a monumental effort from his entire body. He ended up letting you trace the veins on his arm while he listened to you, being soothed to silence and held just over the edge of sleep by your voice and your hands. When you finally lay down next to him, Stiles had fallen asleep. He liked waking up to find you had slid yourself into his arms after making him so pliable. Of course, you got a notification and had to check it before you went to sleep for the night, and, of course, it was Scott. He was asking why Stiles hadn’t been responding to his calls or texts and that he had a few ideas they could look over with Derek. You messaged him back that he’d been busy. That you both had been busy with heavy implications in the message. You sent a picture of Stiles fast asleep to help explain how you had put him to bed. Scott’s plain reply of “oh” was enough closure for you to put the phone down for the night.

#stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #teen wolf stiles #fem reader #dylan o’brien #dylan obrien #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #backwards hat stiles #smut #stiles stilinski x you #stiles x reader #✰lucky writes

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xiaojunsmintchoco · 12 hours ago

Note

hey! could you do a reaction of seventeen with a partner who's afraid of needles? thank youuu

Hey anon! Here you go, I hope you enjoy it :)

tw: mentions of hospitals, needles, operations etc

Seungcheol:

“Y/n! That vaccination appointment you said you needed – have you booked it?”

Upon hearing Seungcheol’s voice boom from the other end of the living room, your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach like a pebble that was thrown into a pond. Looking back at him with guilty eyes, you shake your head and mouth a “no”, only to be met with his scolding stare.

“Y/n-ah, you can't avoid it forever,” he gently chides, approaching you as you direct your gaze to the floor and shift from foot to foot. “What about that nursing course you’ve been so excited about? You need the vaccinations to update your medical records to be eligible for application,” he reminds you.

“I know, it's just…” your voice trails off mid-sentence as you contemplate whether you should tell Seungcheol the truth – your fear of needles was stopping you from getting it done.

You didn't have to decide, because your boyfriend can read you like an open book. “You're scared, aren't you?” he guesses, softening his gaze. As you nod slowly, he reaches out to give your arm a comforting squeeze. “What about this – I book an appointment for you and we go together. I’ll be there to comfort you if you're scared. How does that sound?”

“You know what, having you there might make it a little better,” you answer with a small smile. “At least I won't be alone”.

“Let’s book an appointment now then,” Seungcheol declares, taking the phone from your hands and scrolling through the clinic’s calendar. “There’s an empty slot for three days later, and it happens to be my day off too. Does that work for you?”

“Book it quickly, before I chicken out again,” you declare.

You're rewarded with a gentle flick to the forehead and a “tsk” from Seungcheol as he makes quick work of booking the appointment. “Alright, it's done”.

Jeonghan:

”Yah, y/n,” Jeonghan calls from his seat across from you. Your head snaps up, only to be met with his mischievous grin. “I can see the cogs in your head turning — you better not be thinking of running away”.

You groan, knowing that Jeonghan had seen through you. “Okay, fine, you got me,” you concede. “But even if I tried I wouldn’t be able to”.

”Hey, I know getting the cannula inserted is scary,” Jeonghan acknowledges, empathizing with you. “But think about it. Once this operation is done, your wrist will be able to heal easier and quicker and you can get back to doing everything you love doing,” he adds, attempting to make you see the bright side.

“The first step is always the hardest, isn’t it? I’m only watching the nurse and anaesthetist prepare the needle and all, and I’m already terrified,” you confess, eyes darting left and right tentatively.

“Don’t look at them then,” Jeonghan responds. “Look at me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here until they wheel you into the operating theatre. And when you wake up, I’ll be right beside you too. I’ll be with you all the way,” he reassures, and the corners of your lips turn upwards slightly as gratitude blooms in your heart. “Remember. An ant will bite you, you’ll fall asleep and wake up as if you had 10 shots of soju, and you’ll be a cyborg,” he jokes as you chuckle at the mental image that he had painted for you.

“Thanks, Hannie,” you answer, shooting him a grateful smile. “When you say it like that, it does make it sound better”.

When the anaesthetist inserts the cannula, Jeonghan sings to you throughout the whole process to put you at ease. His honey-sweet voice calms you down and steadies your rapidly-beating heart, and you get the cannula inserted with little pain. “You’ll be okay! I love you,” he calls as the operating staff wheel you into the theatre, and the last thought you have before falling asleep is of his encouraging smile. The operation goes without a hitch, and before you know it you’re out of the operation room again.

Indeed, true to his word, the first thing you see when you wake up is him sitting next to your bed with a shiny, metallic “get well soon” balloon with a cartoon print on it meant for children, a sheet of stickers, and a “bravery certificate” he designed and signed himself.

other members under the cut!

Joshua:

“Do I really have to do this?” you groan as he sits down on a chair in the waiting area, leaving one seat in between the both of you to adhere to social distancing guidelines. Joshua shoots you an empathetic glance, having picked up on your anxiety.

“I know you hate needles and injections, y/n. But this vaccine will help to keep you safe, and allow you to go about daily life easier,” Joshua reasons. “You need to be vaccinated in order to go out and about, because there’s checks for vaccination records everywhere now”.

“It’s kinda useless, though, isn’t it? You get the vaccine, and then you get boosters, and even after all that you can still catch Covid. It’s not like chickenpox or measles vaccines, where you’re basically immune to it after the vaccine,” you argue, still not seeing the point of the vaccine.

“I get what you’re saying, but at least it offers a little bit of immunity, right?” Joshua suggests. He really wanted to be able to hold your hand and comfort you, seeing how scared you were. “Even if you do catch covid, you might get hit less hard at least. I’ll try to follow you in and stay with you so you’ll feel less afraid,” he promises.

Unfortunately, because of social distancing guidelines, the nurses tell you that Joshua has to wait outside for you. Fear rises in you again at the thought of facing it alone and your heart begins pounding at the speed of a galloping horse, until Joshua suggests staying with you via video call, which the nurses agree to. “I know it’s not the same, but I’m still there with you, alright?” he reassures you as you nod weakly and follow the nurses in.

“This is terrifying, Shua. They’re already cleaning my arm and preparing to inject,” you protest, cringing at the feeling of the nurse rubbing your arm with the alcohol.

“It’ll be over soon, y/n. Just breathe with me, okay?” He breathes in and out in an exaggerated manner to ensure you can hear him over the call, trying to get you to copy him. “Good job. You’re doing well,” he exhorts, the loving, gentle warmness in his tone putting you at ease. Before you know it, the needle is in and the injection is given, and you’re walking out of the tent pressing down on a cotton ball plastered to your arm.

The moment you’re home, Joshua pulls you onto the couch for a hug and presses a kiss to your forehead. “It was scary, but you did such a good job. I’m proud of you, y/n”.

Junhui:

”Holy f-“ You almost exclaim, anxiety taking over as you catch sight of the nurse preparing the needle. Junhui claps a hand over your mouth just before the curse word slips out, hurrying to shush you and turn you away from the horrifying sight.

”Calm down, baobei. It’s just a blood test, and it really won’t be as scary as you think,” Junhui blabbers, saying whatever he thought of to try to soothe you.

“‘Just’ a blood test?” you question incredulously, looking at him as if he had grown four more limbs. “That’s the most terrifying thing in the world!”

”Trust me, it’s not that bad,” Junhui reiterates, hoping it would calm you down. “And besides, I think we’d both feel a lot better if we could find out what exactly is wrong with you. This blood test will help us figure that out, and get you the treatment you need,” he coaxes, rubbing up and down your arms to further quell the quivers running through you.

“I guess you’re right. As much as I hate needles, I’d like to quickly recover from whatever I’ve been ill with and get back to normal,” you concede. “If this will help, then let’s do it”.

Junhui squeezes your shoulders again as the nurse walks back over with the needle. “Just hold my hand, okay? I promise it’ll be over and done with in a flash”.

As the nurse rubs your arm with the alcohol swab, you inhale and exhale, trying to steady your breaths as you ready yourself for the inevitable stab. All the while, Junhui is by your side, rubbing the back of your hand gently to try to ease your fear. But as the needle makes its entrance, you cringe slightly, feeling the prick that came with it. “Relax your arm, baobei”, Junhui reminds, having noticed you wincing. “It’ll hurt more if you tense up”.

Following his instructions, you take a deep breath of air and relax your arm — and true enough, it didn’t hurt as badly as you had expected it to. “See? It’s almost over. As soon as the nurse takes the sample needed, it’ll be out and we can go home,” Junhui points out, grinning brightly. “You’re doing amazing, baobei”.

Hoshi:

“Come on, y/n,” Soonyoung says with an encouraging lilt to his voice as he drags you into the waiting area of the clinic. “It’s not as bad as you think, really”.

”I thought all my vaccinations were up to date, and I’d never have to do this again,” you groan, reluctantly plonking yourself in the chair next to him. “Who would’ve thought that I’ve actually missed one booster shot”.

”At least now we know, and you can get the missed shot,” Soonyoung comments, pointing out the positive side of things. “Better now than never, right?”

”I’d rather the latter,” you deadpan, and Soonyoung gently nudges you, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Look! I’m terrified of needles, I’m terrified of pain, and I’d rather just avoid them altogether if I could”. The words pour out of you at a mile per minute, and a shiver runs down your spine at the mere thought of the needle.

”I know, jagi. But travelling with an updated vaccine record would be much safer for both of us, and we’d be able to enjoy our trip with more peace of mind,” Soonyoung reminds you, gently squeezing your hand as a sign of reassurance and comfort. You squeeze his hand back as he goes on. “Besides, I’ll be there with you. I’ll do anything you need to make the process easier”.

”Could you distract me?” you implore, looking at him with hopeful eyes. “Just anything to take my mind off it”.

”Of course!” Soonyoung replies, puffing up his chest like a proud peacock. “Anything, you say? I can sing silly, dance crazy, make funny faces-“

”That’s true, your face is always funny to look at”.

”Hey!”

Wonwoo:

The fever had been raging in you for three days straight, with no signs of going down. You and Wonwoo had tried everything you knew — from the fever medicines you had in the fridge, to the cool fever patches Wonwoo applied and changed for you religiously, to old wives’ tales of taking shots of apple cider vinegar (which Wonwoo had warned was not going to work), only for everything to fall through. Despite you insisting that all you needed to do was to sleep in bed for a few more days and continue self-medicating, Wonwoo was not convinced and insisted on taking you to a doctor. “That’s all you’ve been doing for the last three days, and it clearly isn’t working. You need a doctor,” he asserted, marching you into the doctor’s office.

“They’re going to be alright. I’ll prescribe them with a course of antibiotics, but because this is quite a serious bacterial infection they’ll need an antibiotic injection too,” the doctor muses, typing down notes on his computer.

As you process his words, you turn paler than a sheet of paper, the flush from the fever completely dissipating in that instant. “Can I perhaps…just take the oral medications?” you suggest, hoping that the doctor will accede to your request.

“It would take a lot longer, because it needs to be metabolized by your liver before being released into your bloodstream. Intravenous medication would act much faster, since it goes directly into your bloodstream to fight off infections. Right now you need something fast-acting, because leaving such a serious bacterial infection to fester could make it worse,” Wonwoo explains, hoping that it would convince you to take the injection. Next to both of you, the doctor nods in agreement with your boyfriend’s words.

You shoot a playful glare at Wonwoo. “Okay, nerd,” you fire back jokingly. “As scary as it is, I guess I’ll take it”.

“Don’t worry. You can hold onto me throughout, okay?” Wonwoo says, taking your hand and gently rubbing circles on the back of it. “It’ll be over before you know it, and then you can go home and sleep, just like you wanted to do”.

You nod weakly, feeling too drained by the illness to do anything else. But as soon as the doctor brings out the needle, adrenaline goes coursing through you again, and you’re back in a panicked anxious state, trying to pull away from the doctor who’s trying to administer the injection. Wonwoo notices, and he’s quickly rubbing your back and whispering sweet nothings into your ear to calm you down. “Just this last step, y/n-ah. It’s gonna be over soon,” he assures. “All you need to do now is breathe in and out slowly”.

Doing as he says, you feel nothing more than a mild pinch as the needle goes in, and the injection is done. “Good job back there, y/n,” Wonwoo praises, shooting you an encouraging smile as you walk out of the clinic with him. “You were really brave. Let’s go home, and then you can get the rest you deserve”.

Woozi:

Your knee bounces up and down nervously as you sit on the chair in the consultation room, awaiting your dreaded fate. Beads of cold sweat appear on your forehead as you try to steel your nerves to face your biggest fear- needles. You thank your lucky stars that at least your boyfriend was off work today, so he had kindly offered to accompany you to the dreaded appointment to get a booster shot.

Next to you, Jihoon stands in silent comfort, gently squeezing your knee to try to calm you down. “I know it’s scary, y/n. I’m scared of needles too, so I know exactly how you feel,” he murmurs, gently rubbing your back.

“How do you do it?” you ask, turning to face him for a brief moment. “How do you cope with injections?”

”It’s been a while since I’ve had to have one. But I remember that once, a nurse taught me a simple trick to make them hurt less,” Jihoon answers, brow furrowed as he tries to recall the advice given to him. “Don’t look at it- it’ll be scarier if you do. I’ll count to three before she inserts the needle, and breathe in as it happens. After that, just keep taking slow deep breaths. Can you do that?” He fleshes out a plan to you, and feeling hopeful, you nod. “Okay good. And just keep in mind, I’m right next to you,” he adds as extra reassurance.

As agreed, he counts down for you when the nurse does the injection. “One, two, three, breathe in. Very good,” he whispers soothingly. “Now just breathe in, and out. In, and out,” he instructs, and you do as he says, surprised at how little pain you felt. ”You’re doing great, y/n”.

“I didn’t feel much of anything,” you remark, still shocked as you make your way home with Jihoon. “That trick really helped”.

”Told you,” Jihoon replies with a smile. “If it works on me, it’ll most definitely work on anybody.

Mingyu:

“Shh, y/n, it's gonna be okay,” Mingyu reassures, stroking your hair in an attempt to comfort you. Sitting in the chair, you take deep breaths in and out, trying to steady your rapidly beating heart.

“I don't know why I even decided to do this, Gyu. I knew I was scared of needles, but God-knows-what possessed me to think I could push past it to donate blood,” you sigh, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice as you lean into Mingyu’s embrace.

“That just shows how kind and brave you are,” Mingyu affirms. “I asked you multiple times if you were sure you wanted this, and you were so intent on stepping out of your comfort zone to contribute to a good cause. That's truly admirable,” he adds, beaming at you encouragingly.

“Thanks Gyu,” you reply, grateful for the reassuring presence of your boyfriend in such a scary moment. Unfortunately you catch sight of the nurse preparing the needle, causing you to flinch and turn away.

Mingyu notices and is immediately back at attempting to comfort you. “Don’t look, y/n. It’ll just make it scarier”.

”Well too late now, isn’t it?” you remark, wincing as you feel the nurse already rubbing your arm with the rubbing alcohol. “I’ve already seen the needle”.

“Unsee it, then”, Mingyu blurts, garbling out whatever nonsensical phrases come to his mind to try to humour you, succeeding as both you and the nurse chuckle. “Hey, you survived the prick earlier for the haemoglobin test. You can do this too,” Mingyu exhorts you. “I’ll be here with you throughout. Just take deep breaths in and out”.

You do as he instructs, inhaling and exhaling deeply as you feel the needle make its way through. “And it’s done!” Hearing Mingyu’s confident announcement, you open your eyes to find the needle in your arm connecting you to a blood bag, hooked up to an IV rack. “You did well, y/n. I’m very proud”.

For the next 10 minutes, Mingyu stays by your side and tells you all kinds of jokes to keep you entertained, until the nurse removes the blood bag and tells you that you’re all set to go. “When we get home, have a good rest while I prepare a steak dinner for us. Eat up and replenish your iron stores,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he holds your hand, leading you out of the clinic.

DK:

“Modu uril chyeodabwAaAa~”

Seokmin’s comically out-of-tune voice rings out through the clinic, a far cry from his usual angelic vocals. His clumsy dance moves add on to the hilarity of the situation as he mimics the infamous “Boys’ Planet” performance of his group’s hit song “Hot”. Across from him, you're laughing like a hyena, a far cry from the anxious state you were in earlier. Even the nurse beside you was trying to hold in her laughter as she readied a vaccine dose.

You had a vaccination appointment for today, but because you were so deathly afraid of needles and injections, you had almost backed out of it completely. Seokmin, knowing this, volunteered to come with you to the appointment to hopefully ease your nerves and provide some comfort. “I’ll be there to entertain and distract you,” he promised. “You’ll be so amused, you won’t feel a thing”.

“Are you sure? As embarrassing as it sounds- I’ve cried at every single injection ever since I was a kid,” you confessed, scratching your head sheepishly.

”Y/n, it’s not embarrassing,” Seokmin responded, wrapping you in a warm embrace. “Everyone has their own fears and it’s perfectly normal. Hey, I still scream at the sight of bugs!” He brought up his own fear, hoping that it would make you feel less ashamed. “Jagi-ah, don’t worry. I promise I will make this the first time you ever walk out of an injection laughing instead of crying”.

He was right. “BaMi EoMnEuN nAt HaNeUrEuN bUlGeUnSaEk” the horrible singing and wacky dancing continues as you double over in laughter, abs burning from the exertion. Who knew you’d end up enjoying your vaccination appointment so much? You continue chortling away, thoroughly amused by the antics of your boyfriend. So much so that, you fail to notice the needle making its entrance and exit and the medication going through your veins.

“And you’re done! Just press on the injection site for about two to three minutes,” the nurse says, interrupting Seokmin’s clown show as she secures a cotton ball over the injection site with a plaster.

“Wait, that’s all? It’s over?” you exclaim, mouth agape in shock.

“You’ve got a very good boyfriend. He did such an amazing job at entertaining you, you didn’t even feel a thing,” the nurse chuckles, gesturing at a beaming Seokmin.

Linking your arm with his, you prepare to leave the clinic. “He’s the best,” you reply with a confident smile.

Minghao:

”I’ll never understand you, y/n,” Minghao splutters, looking at you incredulously. “You can stay calm after getting bitten by a wild monkey, but you freak out over a tiny needle?”

Your hiking date in the nature reserve had taken a nasty turn when a macaque, apparently after the snacks in your bag, turned aggressive and bit you in the leg. By some miraculous power you were able to stay calm, stumbling away from the situation while reassuring concerned passersby that you would be alright. Minghao’s meditation efforts from the morning must have paid off, as he too kept a cool head and called for a Grab to take you to the Accident and Emergency department of the nearest hospital. Which is how you end up sitting in a consultation room, bandage wrapped snugly around your ankle to keep the wound dressing in place, and awaiting an injection.

“It's not tiny, have you seen the size of that thing?!” you argue, eyes going wide in fear as you point at the terrifying piece of equipment.

“It's tiny compared to the jaws of whatever beast took a bite out of you earlier!” Minghao insists as he shushes you and turns you away from the nurse who's preparing the syringe.

“Okay, but the doctor has already cleaned and dressed the wound, surely that's enough to stave off infections? Why do I still need an injection?” you question, gesturing wildly in confusion and fright. “Not even just one, multiple jabs over the next few weeks”.

“The disinfectant will keep bacterial infections of the wound at bay, yes, but it's not enough to prevent viral infections that could have already been transmitted into your bloodstream through the bite,” Minghao explains, squeezing your arm gently to try to comfort you. “All these vaccines will do the job for you”.

“Why can't I just take medication orally then?” you argue, still not understanding why you needed an injection of all things.

“It’s too slow for such dangerous viral infections,” Minghao clarifies.

You sigh, still shaking slightly in fear. “I'd rather not have the injection, if I can help it”.

“So you think catching tetanus or rabies is a favourable alternative?” Minghao counters, an eyebrow arching upwards as he stares at you.

“No! But like- okay, fine, guess I’ll take the injections,” you huff, slumping over dejectedly. “When’s the needle coming?”

“It's already been in and out of you, dummy. The whole time you were arguing with me, the nurse came, administered the jab, and left,” Minghao snorts.

“Oh”.

Seungkwan:

Sniffling, you cling to Seungkwan’s arm with one hand as you ready the other for the dreaded jab. Whether you were sniffling because of your horrible flu, or because you were sobbing in fright, you will never know. Adding on to the horrible sensation, embarrassment tinted your cheeks as you were well aware that you were bawling your eyes out even before the actual ordeal had begun, though you were not a child anymore.

“Oh no, y/n,” Seungkwan murmurs in empathy as he quickly sweeps you into a hug, stroking your hair and whispering sweet nothings to you. “You must be really scared”.

Too afraid to say anything else, you merely nod your head in response. “Everything will be alright, okay? I know it seems like a lot, but you’ll be really proud of yourself for getting through this,” he exhorts, squeezing your shoulders gently and leaving a kiss on the top of your head. “Is there anything I can do for you? To make you feel less afraid?” He asks, sincerity in his gaze as he lowers himself to look at you.

“Distract me. Do something, anything to make this less scary,” you sob.

”Alright then. What about I sing to you?” He suggests.

You mull over his proposition for a moment. “That could work,” you reply, still reeling from the sheer amount of cortisol running through your system.

”Alright then. Just breathe for now, okay?” Seungkwan keeps you in his hold, continuing to stroke your hair and whisper reassurances to you.

When the dreaded moment finally arrives, Seungkwan holds your hand, singing “Candy” softly in his usual heavenly voice. As you take in the beautiful notes, you feel yourself calm down, your pulse steadying and your breathing becoming less erratic. The feel of his hand in yours makes the situation better too, knowing that you weren’t alone in your scary predicament. You squeeze his hand back in a show of appreciation to him.

Seungkwan is still holding your hand as you exit the clinic and make your way home. “It was scary, but you sat through it. I’m so proud of you”. He encourages you, kissing you on the cheek again as he promises lots of cuddles when you get back home.

Vernon:

The look of horror that had crossed Vernon's face when he saw the hues of green and yellow oozing from your wounded knee was unmistakable, and before you knew it you found yourself surrounded by the smell of antiseptic and sitting in a consultation room. “We’ve been cleaning it for weeks, and it somehow looks even worse now,” Vernon explains when you ask why he had rushed you to the nearest doctor for something so seemingly trivial. “I know it seems like no big deal, but better safe than sorry”.

The doctor grimaces as she checks your temperature and casts another worried look at the injury. “38.2. You're lucky you came, because the infection is starting to get really bad,” she says, disposing of the cover of the ear thermometer in a swift motion. “I’ll prescribe you with some medication and an antibiotic cream, but you’ll also need an injection of antibiotics”.

Your blood runs cold at the words, and Vernon seems to notice because his hands are immediately rubbing up and down your shoulders in silent comfort. As the doctor motions to her nurse to begin preparing the apparatus, he turns you away from their direction before you can see anything. “God, I really wasn't prepared for an injection today,” you groan.

“Hey, don't worry, it’ll be over before you know it,” Vernon states matter-of-factly, hoping the certainty in his voice would help to ground you and calm you a little. “And besides, I’m here with you,” he reminds you, deep voice soothing you like hot cocoa on a stormy winter day.

“You're right,” you reply, turning back to face him with a smile. “And like you said- better safe than sorry. I wouldn't want the infection to worsen,” you acknowledge, now feeling fully ready to accept the injection.

Vernon says nothing, but grunts in understanding as he continues rubbing your shoulders. As the nurse approaches with the needle, you close your eyes and prepare for the jab. “Just keep breathing”, Vernon instructs, hand remaining on yours. Doing as he says, you feel nothing more than an ant’s bite and in a flash, the process is over.

“Don't forget to apply the cream and take the medicines at home,” Vernon reminds you as you hobble out of the clinic. One of his arms is slung around your waist and the other is holding your hand as you make your way back to the car. “I will, don't worry,” you reply. “And thanks for looking out for and caring for me,” you add, gratitude filling your heart as you slip into the passenger seat.

“Anything for you, y/n”.

Dino:

“Y/n, please. Just this one time, you need it to get better,” Dino pleads. Fear, desperation and worry are written all over his face at once. “You really really need this surgery- or else I don't want to think about what could happen to you”.

Weakly, you lift your head to meet his gaze, still holding on to your stomach due to the immense stabbing pain you felt there. The same pain that had caused you to collapse onto the floor, a shriek of anguish ripping from your throat just an hour earlier, and sent Dino speed dialing an ambulance and rushing you to A&E quicker than the speed of light. There, the doctor had diagnosed you with appendicitis and sent you for an emergency operation to get the aggravating organ removed.

However, one obstacle stood in the way- your deathly fear of needles. Despite being in a tremendous amount of pain already, you couldn't handle the thought of having to get the cannula inserted. Still looking up at Dino, you shake your head ever so slightly. “I can't, Dino, I-I’m scared,” you stammer, with what little strength you have left.

“This could save your life, y/n,” Dino reasons in a shaky voice, hoping to break through the tidal waves of fear and anxiety crashing over you in the moment with plain, simple logic. “I’ll hold your hand throughout, until you go for the surgery. And when you wake up I’ll be right here waiting for you. So please- just this once, okay? You’ll not need another jab for a really long time after”.

With the urgency and potentially life-threatening circumstances looming over you, you take a shaky breath and slip your hand into his, seeing that the doctor was here with the needle. Closing your eyes, you accept the slight prick and realize that it was nothing, at least compared to the excruciating pain you were already in. But through all the fear, pain and anxiety, Dino’s hand never left yours, his touch grounding you and reminding you that even in such scary circumstances, everything would be okay. You open your eyes and find him looking back at you with a small smile, as if to reassure you of the same thing. “It’ll be alright, jagi. I’ll see you when you're done, and I love you”. He finishes, pressing a quick kiss to the back of your hand. You flash a quick smile at him, waving feebly as the medical team prepares to wheel you into the operating theatre.

When you awake, you're greeted with the sight of Dino’s relieved face. “Y/n! You're done!” He exclaims as your eyelids flutter open and you sit up groggily, the effect of the anaesthesia still fresh. Noticing your apparent drowsiness, he gently pushes you back down and beckons you to rest. “It's okay. Now you should rest. Take all the time you need here, and when the doctors clear you for discharge we can go home together,” he murmurs, and you drift back to sleep with a smile, feeling his fingers gently run through your hair.

#seventeen #svt #seventeen reactions #svt reactions #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seventeen headcanons #svt hcs #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #requested #anon

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sanccharine · 1 day ago

Text

16 | lesson plan

hogwarts au

pairing: hufflepuff!tzuyu x slytherin!reader genre: fluff, slice of life word count: 3.2k

warnings: brief mention of bad parents

summary: whether on the field or during class, you never shied away from trouble. and in your sixth year, trouble seemed to follow you like a shadow, though you couldn’t complain. especially when that series of misfortunes led you to the transfiguration prodigy, chou tzuyu. includes: red velvet’s yeri, ateez’s san, yeosang and wooyoung, txt’s yeonjun

status: ongoing a/n: there are probably many mistakes, rip <3 also think i posted for hufflepuff!tzu like... seven months ago. yes, you can insert clown music here.

masterlist | chapter 15 | chapter 17

“What?” Tzuyu looked at you like you’d grown a second head.

“Teach me Transfiguration!” you said, grinning as the idea formed in your mind. It wasn’t too bad, you didn't think so at least. “Be my tutor.”

When Tzuyu just stared at you in silence, you tacked on. “Please,” you offered your best smile.

Tzuyu stilled. Her mouth opened, a vague sound escaped, and then she closed it again. She was speechless. Did you say something wrong? You don’t think you did. Maybe she wasn’t interested… but she had offered.

In your head that request made the most sense. You wanted to get better at Transfiguration. You wanted to study with her in the library again. You wanted to spend more time with her. And she’s offered before, not this explicitly, but her offer to help was always open, at least for you. So you were taking it—taking the chance.

Trying your hardest not to frown, you prepared yourself for rejection. Of course, just because she’d offered at a previous point in time, doesn’t mean she’d still offer now.

You hugged the Transfiguration textbook closer when you asked again. “I want you to help me get better at Transfiguration,” you said, confident but a bit more somber. You wanted to express that you were being genuine. And then added again, “Please.”

Tzuyu blinked once, owlishly. Then again.

“Okay,” she bit her lower lip, eyes shifting to the textbook in your hands before glancing up at you. “I’ll do it.”

“Yeah?” you asked, trying to bite down the grin. Tzuyu only hummed in response.

For a moment the pair of you just observed the other. The light glimmering in her eyes was so obvious, and if you were brave, you’d like to imagine it was because of you. The corner of her lips twitched up and down, and you wanted to call her out. Tell her she didn’t have to hold back her smile just like you were trying to, but instead you opted to just watch her. Deciding it was better to jump around in your mind, than stupidly in front of her.

Abruptly, Tzuyu cleared her throat. She looked down for a moment, and when she looked back up again, her usual mask was on. Though not that it helped your own grin. Because you knew behind that mask, she was feeling somewhat giddy as you did.

“Class?” Tzuyu pointed to the entrance, her hand still gripping the strap of her bag. It was a gift how well she was able to control her expressions. “We’re late.”

“Oh, right, of course,” you shook away the smirk that was itching to spread on your face. Stepping to the side in a bow, you extended your hand in an exaggerated manner. “Prefects first.”

Tzuyu hummed, rolling her eyes at your act. But you didn’t miss the smile on her lips when you looked up at her.

When the pair of you walked in, the class fell silent. You didn’t see what Tzuyu was doing in front of you, but you did catch Yeosang throwing her a thumbs-up. Unlike her, you didn’t want to reconvene with your friends, they’ve probably guessed how detention went from the expression on your face. And you’d like to avoid the teasing as long as you could. You did, however, glance at Lee, but she didn’t really let any expression past her. Though, there was a small twitch of her lips in greeting. Lastly, you looked at Yeosang, just before taking your seat next to him. He gave you a little wave, before showing the textbook page you needed to be on.

Once Lee noticed you and Tzuyu had settled, she resumed her class and turned her back to you to write something on the board. That instant, something struck the back of your head. You lurched forward, patting the back of your head, before noting the crumpled piece of parchment by your feet.

Fortunately, for you, you quickly picked up the parchment and flattened the paper while Lee was still focused ahead. Unfortunately, for your friends, both Yeosang and Tzuyu turned to face them. The scorn of Yeosang’s face was scathing, it was truly fascinating how such a pretty face could contort into such an ugly sneer. Coughing into your sleeve, you hid your snort.

But holding back your laughter proved to be more difficult when you turned to the back of the class. Wooyoung was waving his hand as wildly as one could and then gestured as if writing a note. San was trying to pull him to his seat, afraid Lee would turn at any second.

How did detention go? was written in Wooyoung’s hurried scrawl.

You turned to him and he was signing with two thumbs-up followed right by two thumbs-down. Seeing as you’d be getting more notes to your head until you answered him, you offered a smile with a singular thumbs-up.

Excited about the detention, you missed how San stiffened next to Wooyoung.

“L/N, care to explain what you are doing?”

You couldn’t be serious.

“Detention, really? Come on, Professor,” you groaned, remaining back with Lee.

“You were passing notes—”

“I was getting notes—”

“You were disrupting my class—”

“Oh, come on,” you said again, throwing up your arms.

“That will be detention, again,” she continued before you could interrupt her again. “Library duty, same time next week.”

“Oh. I…” you straightened, contemplating the detention. It was more time with Tzuyu. You nodded. “Yeah, I can do library duty—”

“I was not asking,” you give her a deadpan look to match her own. “Also,” she pulled out a piece of parchment from her drawers. “I have your next assignment.”

You raised your eyebrows and took the parchment from her. Quickly skimming over the assignment, you furrowed your eyebrows together. You recognized the question.

“Yes, that is the same question you left blank in your O.W.Ls. I’m glad you remember it.”

Frowning, you caught her gaze again. When Lee met your stare with a steely look, you don’t doubt you have something akin to a glare on your face. Though, if Lee was irritated by the disrespect she didn’t care to show it.

“Why—”

“Because I know you’ve improved—”

“Why did you take me into your class?”

You ask the question again. The one you’ve been thinking of since you received the letter that you got into N.E.W.T level Transfiguration.

As if Lee knew you had more to say, she stayed quiet.

“I know I didn’t meet your requirements, so why would you make an exception?” you ask, with a sigh. “And don’t say something stupid and vague like potential, Professor.”

If anyone knew how to disrespect a teacher, it was you.

But if anyone knew how to take your insolence without being perturbed, it was Lee.

Her eyes only shifted slightly, a deadly glint over her glasses as she steepled her fingers in front of her face.

“I didn’t make an exception—”

“Bullshit,” you rolled your eyes. Lee looked neither appalled nor admonished you for your language. She kept watching you, like you were an explosion she was waiting to go off soon.

Then, she turned to her left, looking at the empty space in her desk and uttered a conjuring spell. Within seconds, a spotted frog appeared out of thin air. Lee jutted her chin at the frog, the animal blinking at you like you were its owner.

“Cast a vanishing spell.” It was an order.

Unnerved, but still obedient, you pulled out your wand and pointed at the frog. With one simple move of your hand, you said, “Evanesco.”

Just like the frog had appeared, it had vanished.

Raising your brows, you nodded to yourself. It was a clean spell. You looked at your wand, appraising it, surprised that it cast the spell so well. Perhaps, you’re not so hopeless. You turned to Lee, expectant and confused all the same. Will she be grading this or something?

“Now, tell me the theory behind that spell.”

Your mind went blank.

Lee raised a single eyebrow, waiting for your answer, but you had none.

“Vanishing is one of four branches of Transfiguration… ?” you trailed off when you heard yourself. Even to your own ears, you didn’t seem confident in the statement. Lee fixed you with an unimpressed glare but she sighed.

“Do you remember how you learnt it?” Lee asked but you just shrugged.

“You taught it to us last year,” you said, unceremonious but Lee just shook her head. “You taught it to us in fourth year?”

You weren’t sure what exactly she was fishing for until she pursed her lips, clearly unhappy with your answers. But it was clear, you weren’t leaving anytime soon.

Thinking back to a year even further back, it finally clicked. Third year had been very strange for you. With somewhat of a rebellious streak, running in and out of detentions and with the threat of being pulled out from Hogwarts altogether, it had been a blur of a year.

The only thing that was clear as day was that Lee did not let you out of her sight. To you, at the time, it was her way of controlling you. Admonishing you. Your parents were on your back. Lee was on your back. Everyone, all at the same time, looked at you as if you were a ticking bomb.

Lee found any and all reason to have you benched in her office, detention after detention. If Slytherin weren’t so good at Quidditch, you wouldn’t be surprised if your detentions alone lost your house the House Cup. Not that it did, of course.

While those detentions had mostly been a waste of your time, if you were to look further, there were also Lee’s students. The prodigies and the favourites and the ambitious, at her office between classes to improve their learning in Transfiguration. And in those detentions, you’d see older students attempt a varying range of spells, again, and again, and again.

Vanishing spell, being one of them. Purely out of boredom, you often attempted to copy older students, granted you were never successful, and you’d land another detention from Lee if she caught you. But you’d seen so many spells, so many attempts, that by the time you’d officially been introduced to the spell during the next year, the basics of casting it had been ingrained into your brain.

Maybe you had an inkling of what Lee was trying to say…

“I got lucky—”

“Try again.” Lee said, and you frowned.

“I practiced.” You admitted, finally. “I watched your fifth-years fail again and again, and learnt from their mistakes.”

In fact, looking back that’s how you’d gained many of your spells. Vicariously.

You’d always assumed casting spells, especially with a wand, came a little naturally to you because of your parents. You are a pureblood after all. But it was never the case. You’d learnt it like you learnt Quidditch. Watching others cast and watching others play. You never understood why it works or how it works, you just know that it works exactly this way. And then you practice, mimicking every move with an almost clinical precision until it worked, until it was second nature.

When Lee had chosen you to attempt that specific spell in front of the class, you’d cursed her in your mind. Thinking she was doing it to spite you, embarrass you in front of your betters, prove that you could not do well in Transfiguration. Just like your parents had told you. Just like you believed it to be.

Such foolish, childish thoughts, but you thought them to be true. Of course, your own doubts had blown up in your face. The frog you were asked to vanish, sputtered and floundered when you miscast. Lee only frowned and asked you to take your seat again. You glared through the rest of the class, deciding not to pick up your wand again for that lesson.

“You were one of the few handful of students who successfully cast the vanishing spell during your O.W.Ls,” Lee said, taking off her glasses to wipe them. Her words cut off your memory of your failure. But you could barely remember the exam where you cast the spell correctly. “It was that practical that gave you the marks to enter my N.E.W.Ts class.”

You shrug, about to counter her.

“Maybe when you stop labelling yourself as stupid or a failure, you will actually see the potential everyone else sees in you,” Lee sighed, pushing back her glasses. “Again, I don’t take charity cases. I’m not that kind.”

You knew that much.

“I know you’re trying harder than ever this year, and I commend that… but the journey will be easier if you just let yourself breathe a little,” the urge to bite back, to be defensive was difficult to swallow down, but you managed to keep your mouth shut. “It is not easy—it won’t be easy, but you are not the hopeless case as you believe yourself to be.”

Professor Lee paused, a brief flicker of hesitation caught on her usually confident mask. Then, she sighed out.

“Like your parents believe you to be.”

It was as if someone had pulled you taut by puppet strings attached to your spine, forcing you to stand upright. Your muscles were so tense that you couldn’t even curl your fingers into fists. Lee frowned at your reaction, minute as it was, at the mention of your parents.

“It would do you good to remember that,” Lee offered in a kinder tone than you’ve ever heard her speak. “Please,” she emphasised the word, “remember that.”

After a few moments of silence to let her words sink in, Lee sighed once more.

“On top of your extra assignments, I want you in my classes with the lower years any time you are free. At the minimum of twice a week, teaching others will help you relearn the basics. You clearly have no talent for note-taking and completing your readings,” it's a skill how she lifts you and puts you down within a minute, one she has mastered. “But on top of relearning the basics, teaching your juniors will show you what you know, even when you think you don’t know anything.”

Lee finished and looked at you, pointed.

“Is that understood?”

You nodded wordlessly.

“Alright, let the first-years in, and don’t take up anymore of their time,” Lee said with finality and got up to write something on the board.

Dismissed, you turned and left.

Like Lee had asked, you left her classroom without holding back her class. But of course not without a quick fist bump to both Minwoo and Jooyeon. Some other first-years just stared strangely at you, and for the fun of it, you extended your hand to them too. You couldn’t help but chuckle when some reciprocated.

The rest of your day went better than expected.

Attending classes felt lighter now that you’ve sorted out everything with Tzuyu. If you weren’t seated with your friends, then you were tailing Yeosang and Tzuyu. You were reintroduced to some of their other friends, technically you should know their names. However, you didn’t, but you were making an effort this time around.

During the lunch break, you updated your friends on the full story of the detention, not sparing as single detail. Not even how you’d asked Tzuyu to tutor you. While teasing was your friends’ way of showing affection, you appreciated the way they listened until you finished. San and Yeonjun sung you praises, the latter slowly leaning into teasing with every new sentence. Though you weren't too fussed, not when Yeri only shared a proud smile. Words didn’t need to be shared between the pair of you.

“Practice tonight?” she asked as she got up to get to her class.

“Lake side?” you asked, finishing up your lunch. Yeri just nodded. “Yeah, let's try the new play?”

Yeri nodded again as she ruffled Yeonjun’s perfectly slicked-back hair before leaving the hall.

Classes after lunch went without much fanfare, for most of them you shadowed your friends. Every so often glancing at Tzuyu in hopes she was glancing back. And when you did catch her, she’d be wearing that suppressed smile of hers before she looked down to hide it altogether to look focused in class. The interaction feels something like sharing a secret.

When your last lesson finished, you caught her just as she left the classroom.

“So, Professor Chou, when is our first lesson?” you asked, tone lighter than usual as you fell in step with her.

“Eager?” she asked with a brow raised, while her lips did that thing again to suppress her smile.

“Sure, yeah,” you shrugged in answer, doing something of your own to not display just how eager you were. “Let’s keep the lessons consistent. How about our free period in the morning, every week? Does that work?”

“I have detention that time for next week,” she said, with a slight downturn of her lips.

“Oh, I’ll be joining you,” you said with a grin accompanied by a one-shoulder shrug. “Library duty again. Can’t wait.”

“What did you do now?” Tzuyu asked with a deadpan stare and you didn’t have the energy to feign hurt.

“Does it matter?” you chuckle, slightly shuffling to the side as a student hurried past you. “Let’s start from the week after, how about it?”

For some reason, you wanted verbal confirmation from her. Wanted to hear that she was as eager to teach you as you were to learn from her. Even if it was only a fraction of what you felt. That feeling being the yearning for academic prowess, of course. Nothing to it more than teaching and learning.

“Yeah, that works for me,” Tzuyu nodded with a small smile as the pair of you made a turn. “Same place in the library?”

Your grin widened in answer. The noise of students chattering increased as the both of you neared the great hall. Tzuyu mirrored your smile as you entered the hall but came to a stop at the entrance. While it was merely optional, the pair of you would separate here to head to your own house tables. Unfortunately, the tables were separated by Ravenclaw.

“Perfect,” she fully turned to face you, her smile morphing into something a little more serious. Taking the hint, you turned to face her, with a semi-serious nod. “We should focus on casting non-verbally first. So let's start with simple spells.”

You blinked, momentarily pausing as Tzuyu continued to plot her lesson plan. Your own smile, slowly but surely, tilting downwards.

She was taking this far too seriously… or perhaps, you should be taking it more seriously.

“Brush up on second-year and third-year spells,” Tzuyu paused for a moment, contemplating her own instruction but then nodded anyway. “Yes, brush up on those spells and we can start from there. We can work our way up. You’re an intuitive caster, but practice cleans you up. I don’t doubt you’ll master non-verbal casting.”

Homework and a character analysis from the get-go.

What did you just sign yourself up for?

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: mind you 3k of this had already been written... it was just sitting there untouched IM SORRY ;-; hope you all have a good day/night <3

taglist: @someone-who-likes-broccoli @tatliegilim @nanabongos @pandafuriosa60 @eternallyghosting

send an ask to be added !

#mishaps gone right #tzuyu x reader #twice x reader #jype twice

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