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chuluoyi · 1 year ago

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the secret wife

- nanami kento x reader

follow the first years’ misadventures as they find out that apparently, the infamous 7:3 sorcerer is also a dutiful and loving husband in private!

genre/warnings: crack, fluff, the first years are simply chaotic, an attempt at humor, gojo cameo (he’s so insufferable), mentions of pregnancy, nanami being the best husband there is

note: based on an anon's suggestion, this is a spin-off to love entries' wife (so gojo is married to love entries reader naturally!) this is full chaos and crack omg so sorry and isn't proofread bc i’m kinda tired so pls forgive any mistakes and my dry humor :')

general masterlist

On one fine, sunny day, which was supposed to be a calm and relaxing afternoon...

“Hello? Yuji—”

Megumi could've sworn, they weren't usually this nosy.

“Gojo-sensei! It's urgent!”

Call it indulgence, because Nobara's curiosity just got the better of her.

“Oh? What's—”

“Does Nanamin have a wife!?”

And Yuji... well, he just needed answers, because the three of them were now in the ‘Mom and Baby’ section of department store, having just witnessed a monumental sight of their esteemed mentor, Nanami Kento—

—with a remarkably stunning woman hanging onto his arm.

“Huh?” Gojo's confusion was evident from the other line. Oh, yeah. Yuji had decided to cut to the chase and call him too, hoping for a swift clarification.

Okay, so why were the trio—plus Gojo on the speakerphone—hiding behind a pillar just to spy on Nanami and his very possible wife? Let us rewind 30 minutes before...

Yuji considers himself to have an exceptional eye and taste for women.

And 30 minutes ago, when he fell on his butt on the rough, hard asphalt in the jammed Shibuya crossing after accidentally getting shoved by the crowd, and encountered a kind, vivacious older woman—you, who extended a hand to help him up, he was even more convinced of that.

“Are you alright, Itadori-kun?” your soft voice entered his ears, catching him off-guard, and Yuji was certain of two things then.

One, that you were just like a literal angel descended from skies above, all dolled up and pretty with your flowy sundress.

“Ah, uh—” he stammered, eyes darting everywhere and anywhere at once as his palm started sweating after clasping your hand. “I-I am…”

And two, for the life of him, he had no idea who you were.

But it registered late in his mind to ask as he was busy controlling his ragged breathing and instant crush, and before Yuji knew it, you graced him with another kind smile and went on your way.

And did he feel so miserable afterwards.

. . .

“She’s sooo hella pretty, Fushiguro! And she knows me! Me!”

Megumi sighed, eyeing his friend in disgust. Truthfully, all he wanted was to return to the dorms and collapse onto his bed, and not listen to his friend’s incoherent ramblings.

"You sure you weren't imagining things?" Nobara questioned with slight irritation. "After you embarrassed us in front of Gojo-sensei's wife a while back, please think more before you act."

"I'm not, I swear! She said my name!"

"Itadori, can you please just not?" Megumi grumbled, having enough of this ruckus. "I want to walk back in peace."

And so tucking away his pout, Yuji walked in silence just as his best friend asked, and he was really going to leave it at that when suddenly he caught the sight of a familiar pristine coat and the sundress from earlier. “Oh?”

"Isn't that Nanami-san?" Nobara also spotted him, her eyes widening when she saw you, who was happily beaming as well as Nanami's light chuckle. "And wait, who is—?"

"That's her!" Yuji burst out, pointing decisively in your direction. "That's who I was talking about!"

Oh, no. Megumi dreaded it already. He could already see the utter catastrophe—

"I'm going after them!"

"Wait, Itadori! Me too!"

Too late. Before he could stop them, Nobara and Yuji had followed the pair. Reluctantly, Megumi trailed behind them too, albeit wearing a vexed scowl. Yet despite his misgivings, he couldn't deny that the things he saw over the next 30 minutes were genuinely unexpected.

Nanami consistently led you to a quieter spot away from the bustling crowd, his hand holding yours firmly. He would occasionally throw you a smile, or when you didn’t hold hands, then he’d wrap an arm around your waist. And to the trio's bewilderment, they also saw him tenderly brushing his lips against your head while on the escalator.

Soft and gentle. It was a side of Nanami Kento they had never witnessed—either with anyone else or even himself.

The two of you ventured through home appliances, visited food stalls, and eventually... the ‘Mom and Baby’ section.

"Do you want to rest for a bit?" Nanami's voice held a touch of concern as his hand settled on the small of your back, and seeing that, Nobara positively swooned.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," you responded with a reassuring smile. "Let's head over there. I'd like to see that next!"

Watching you and Nanami meticulously going through strollers and cribs like a pair of would-be parents was apparently too mind-blowing for Yuji and Nobara, leading to the decision to call Gojo right then and there. And, as they say, the rest was history.

"Last I heard, Nanami wasn't married," Gojo answered resolutely. "If he is, then it's the ultimate betrayal because he never told me!"

"But we see him with a woman! At mother and baby care section!"

Gojo hummed in thoughtful manner. "Okay, students. Now I'm tasking you to see this to the very end! Keep me on the line!"

With that, Operation: Uncover Nanami's Wife was officially underway, and frankly, the way the three of them were clumsily tailing the 7:3 sorcerer made Megumi want to facepalm. How was it that Nanami hadn't noticed their rather conspicuous attempts at all?

Now you were fawning over baby clothes, cutely trying not to squeal as you picked a little blue and yellow overalls. "Kento! Kento! Look, how cute!"

And all of them were floored once again when the expression on his face softened, as a warm smile adorned his lips. "Yeah, they are."

"Is she pregnant? She doesn't look it..." Nobara remarked, squinting and frowning, still watching the two of you like a hawk.

"Or maybe they're shopping for someone else?" Megumi suggested, earning teasing grins from Yuji and Nobara, to which he quickly rolled his eyes, as they chorused, "Looks like you're curious too!"

After a while, you moved from the clothes to sections stocked with mother's necessities. Yuji leaned against one of the racks, pressing his ear against it, with Nobara and Megumi crowding behind him, attempting to catch a snippet of your conversation with Nanami.

"I think we should get some heat packs and these pillows—"

"Oh, Kento! You're such a worrywart, I still won't need them for a few more months—"

"Wait, what?" Yuji whipped his head around in surprise, causing Nobara, who was leaning on him, to stumble and inadvertently collide with the racks.

"Eh? Huh!?"

Unfortunately, the racks weren't sturdy enough, and the force caused them to sway dangerously. Nobara, sensing her imminent fall, instinctively grabbed Yuji's arm to steady herself. However, he got tugged instead and their combined weight exacerbated the situation, leading to the racks quickly toppling over and a deafening commotion ensued—

Crash!

"Careful!" Nanami immediately pulled you behind him, a protective arm around your shoulder, sensing your shock from the sudden crash. He was on high alert, expecting some sort of attack of cursed spirits, but instead, he was met with the most astounding sight of the bickering culprits amidst the fallen racks.

"Kugisaki! What are you doing!"

"You dumbass! Why didn't you stop me from falling?!"

"Itadori-kun...?" Nanami called out in utter disbelief, his mind couldn't fathom as to why the first years were here. However, his attention quickly shifted to Megumi, who was seething and sending his friends a glare so hard it could drill a hole into them.

Then, the boy swiftly fixed himself into a low bow in front of him, ashamed, disregarding Yuji and Nobara's groans altogether. "Nanami-san, I'm very, very sorry on their behalf."

"What are the three of you doing here?" he inquired, and poor Megumi seemed at a loss, huffing as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of where to even start.

Meanwhile you were full of worry for the fallen kids. "Oh my gosh, are you alright?"

For the second time today, you tried to help Yuji to stand on his feet, and this time, he really had a good look over you.

It wasn't exactly noticeable due to how loose your dress was, but now he could see that under it, your belly was slightly rounded—an unmistakable baby bump.

Amidst his shock and pain, Yuji couldn't bring himself to take your hand as he inadvertently let this slip, "N-Nanamin! You knocked her up!"

Nanami blinked. You gaped. Megumi and Nobara went pale in sheer horror, ready to murder their friend on the spot for his extreme height of rudeness.

“Itadori-kun,” Nanami cleared his throat then, and if he was offended, then he chose not to show it. “First of all, I’m sorry for not introducing you sooner. This is Y/N, my wife, and yes,” his tone hardened slightly, “She’s carrying our first child.”

“S-so you are married!”

“Yes, that was what I—”

“What the hell?! NANAMIIII!”

Oh, the freaking phone. After his fall, Yuji’s phone ended up on the floor, and of course, Gojo did hear all of the entire madness, evident from how his voice blared from the phone.

Nanami frowned, unwittingly reaching out towards the phone. “Who—?”

“NA-NA-MI!" Gojo screeched in righteous exasperation, and the former immediately pulled away from the phone with a cringe. “How could you?! I invited you to my wedding! Are you a hermit or something—how could not tell anyone!? Didn’t you say I can officiate—”

“I said no such thing. Please refrain from saying outrageous things, it’s both annoying and misleading,” Nanami stressed, growing more irritated by the mere sound of Gojo's whining voice and feeling his patience waning rapidly.

"Aren't we friends?! How—!"

"Should I find you instigate one more of this... shenanigans with the kids, I won't hesitate to report you to Yaga and your wife," he interjected then with clear irritation, and right that second, Gojo shut himself up.

Yuji, Nobara and Megumi couldn't help drawing that one conclusion in wonder: So, that's what Gojo-sensei is afraid of.

Nanami swiftly ended the call with a flick of his finger, returning the phone to the still mystified Yuji. Turning back to the trio, Nanami's irritation simmered as he glanced at the mess of broken goods on the floor, as well as noticing the approaching clerks.

"You three..." Nanami started, his voice rising slightly, unfaltering even as the three of them flinched. "Do you realize what you've done? Are you so idle that you can ditch your assignments?"

"Kento, don't be too harsh," you rebuked, placing a hand on his arm with a frown on your face. Nanami sighed, looking over the situation once again. It was a whole rack of baby necessities destroyed; plates, glasses, and whatnot scattered across the floor.

Nobara bit her lip in anxiety. “Oh my god, who's going to pay for all this damage?” She could already imagine the staggering amount this mess would cost. This is worth millions, anyone can go bankrupt.

There was only one person who can and will. Immediately, both Nanami and Megumi turned to her with a shared resolve.

"Gojo," Megumi blurted.

"He will be charged for everything," Nanami added with spite.

Epilogue

"You just love those kids, don't you, Kento?"

That night, when both of you were ready for sleep, Nanami had one hand caressing your still growing belly, and you teased him with a chuckle.

"Huh?" your husband looked at you in mild confusion as he stopped stroking you. "What do you mean?"

You giggled again. "You said to put it on Gojo's name, but in the end, you were the one who covered the damages first."

Nanami huffed lightly. "That's because I can't get the kids in trouble. But mark my words, I'll make sure Gojo pays up later, by force if I need to." He made a face when he remembered just what a massive bill it was. "That's too much money to be spent carelessly. We have our child and our future to consider."

"You're always like that," you sighed fondly, taking his hand and placing it back to the swell of your belly. "Always on the first line of defense for the students." Your smile widened. "It makes me think... just how lucky our kid will be with you as their father."

"On the contrary, I'm counting my blessings that they'll have someone as soft as you for their mother," your husband retorted with a smile, kissing your temple. And your heart melted into a puddle by his affectionate gesture.

"That's too sweet... ah, yeah," suddenly, you were reminded of a critical thing. “Kento, have you ever considered telling everyone else that we're married? At least to people at school?”

Nanami always wanted privacy for safety reasons most of the time, and you understood that, but seeing that Gojo and the first years knew already, you thought it might be the best time to let everyone know.

"I honestly don’t see the need to, why?"

"People like Gojo are confused—"

Your husband rolled his eyes then. "Don’t worry, dear. People like Gojo exist to spread the word so we don't have to."

#nanami kento x reader #jjk fluff #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen #kento nanami x you #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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cheriecelestial · 2 months ago

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You get me closer to God | [1/3]

pairing *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Alexander The Great x fem!reader

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ fluff. dark themes. yandere content. mentions of injuried animals. alex is highkey manipulative. misogyny. severe historical inaccuracies.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ So I don't know what made me do this. I read this one Alexander the great fanfic was my brain starting cooking on its own and came up with this while walking to Programming Class. Told @joekitsu abt it and all of this is cuz of them. Hella inaccurate but we ball cuz this is fiction and I don't really care. Also Y/N is 12-13 and Alexander is 15-16. Comment, Like and Reblog (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

comment to be added to taglist.

[2/3] [3/3]

“You must believe me—I know what I saw!” Alexander insisted, his voice sharp with frustration. His usually bright eyes burned with an intensity that bordered on desperation, as if the weight of his conviction alone could force Hephaestion to see the truth.

The other boy sighed, rubbing his temples in a futile attempt to stave off the headache brewing behind his eyes. “My prince,” he began carefully, choosing his words with the patience of a man caught between loyalty and reason, “I do not doubt your judgment. But you must understand—claiming to have seen Lady Aphrodite herself is... extraordinary. Even for you.”

Alexander bristled, his jaw tightening. “You think I would lie about such a thing?”

Hephaestion held up a placating hand. “Not lie. But even the keenest eyes may be tricked by twilight, and sacred groves are ever the domain of visions.”

A tense silence stretched between them before Hephaestion pressed further, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation toward firmer ground. “And, if I may ask—what were you doing near that place at such an hour? The laws of Meiza are clear: no pupil departs temple grounds without leave from kin or tutor. And you, my lord, sought no such permission.”

The prince stiffened, caught off guard. His fingers twitched at his sides, betraying his struggle to conjure a convincing excuse. After a moment of hesitation, he exhaled sharply and surrendered to the truth. “I saw Cassander slipping beyond the wall that way. I wished to see where he was going.”

Hephaestion groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as if beseeching the gods for patience. The son of Antipater was a notorious instigator, a boy who treated rules as mere suggestions rather than boundaries. Like Alexander, he had been raised under the shadow of power—his father, the king’s most trusted general, ensured that consequence rarely touched him. The two were cut from the same defiant cloth, each believing themselves the exception to every rule.

“My prince,” Hephaestion said, his voice edged with reproach, “Cassander is no beacon of conduct. Must you trail after his every folly?”

Alexander’s lip curled. “Folly? I call it vigilance.”

“Vigilance that conjures goddesses from the mist?” Hephaestion countered, his brow arched.

Alexander’s retort died on his lips, replaced by a stubborn silence while thinking back to his encounter.

Sleep had eluded him. The hour was late, the halls of the temple of the nymphs hushed, but his thoughts raced like chariots at the Hippodrome. Resigned, he had risen, slipping into the cool embrace of the night. Above him, Selene reigned in silver splendor, her celestial handmaidens—those distant, twinkling stars—scattered across the heavens like diamonds cast upon obsidian. He knew their names, their myths, their paths—Aristotle had made certain of that. Yet tonight, their brilliance offered no solace.

Seeking refuge, he had settled beneath one of the garden’s pillared gazebos, its stark white columns entwined with ivy, their leaves swaying in the faintest breath of wind. It was a portrait of tranquility—or so it seemed.

Then—movement.

A cloaked figure slipped between the shadows near the temple, footsteps careful and deliberate. An intruder? A thief? Instinct flared hot in Alexander’s veins. His fingers twitched toward the dagger at his belt as he melted into the darkness, trailing the stranger with the precision of a hunter.

Yet something gnawed at him. Something about how this man moved felt familiar, whether it was the rhythm in his step or his posture. Recognition hit Alexander like Zeus' lightning.

The hood slipped, revealing the sharp features of Cassander, scion of the noble house of Iolaos. What madness drove him beyond the walls at this hour? The rules of Meiza were the iron girders of discipline, absolute and ultimate and Cassander, for all his posturing, was no fool. Unless his purpose was worth the risk.

Alexander tensed—he had to follow, demand answers—

“My prince?”

He was about to follow him out but he heard a voice call from behind him.

The voice, low but unmistakable, froze him mid-step. He whirled, blade half-drawn, before his eyes settled on Ptolemy—a close friend and companion.

“What business have you here?” The prince countered, his tone sharper than intended.

Ptolemy’s gaze flickered toward the wall, then back. “I might ask the same.”

By the time Alexander turned again, Cassander had vanished—swallowed by the night. Reluctantly, he allowed Ptolemy to steer him back to the dormitories, but the questions festered like a wound left untended. Why? Where? How often?

Days passed. The mystery festered. Alexander watched, patient as a sage, as Cassander moved through his routines—attending lectures, drilling in the palaestra, laughing with friends. But always, always, there was that gleam in his eye—the look of a man who knew a secret. Then, the pattern emerged. Once every fortnight, Cassander would slip away.

Tonight, Alexander would not be thwarted. With Ptolemy’s aid—ever willing, ever unquestioning—Cassander was lured into a late-night game of kottabos, his attention ensnared by wine and wit.

And Alexander moved.

He retraced Cassander’s path, fingers skimming the rough-hewn stones of the perimeter wall, searching, probing—

There.

Behind a curtain of thick ivy, the mortar had crumbled, the bricks pried loose just enough to form a narrow passage. Alexander exhaled a laugh, triumphant. So this was how the fox slipped its leash. With one last cautious glance behind him to ensure he hadn't been followed, the young prince dropped to his hands and knees and squeezed through the gap. The rough stone scraped against his shoulders, but the thrill of rebellion burned hotter than any discomfort. This forbidden act of slipping beyond the walls sent his pulse racing in a way no training yard spar ever could.

Beyond the wall, the trail revealed itself through flattened grasses and broken twigs— a path worn by frequent use. The corners of Alexander's mouth quirked up in satisfaction as he noted the clear signs of Cassander's regular trespasses. The foliage grew denser as he pressed forward, vines and branches snagging at his chiton with increasing persistence. Where a more patient man might have carefully parted the vegetation, Alexander slashed through the greenery with impatient strokes of his dagger, sending leaves and tendrils flying. Answers waited ahead, and he'd be damned if some stubborn plants would delay him.

Just as the thicket seemed impassable, silver light flickered between the leaves ahead. With one final, determined push, Alexander burst through— only to stumble and fall gracelessly onto his hands and knees in the soft earth. The indignity of it burned his cheeks— a prince of Macedon, sprawled in the dirt like a clumsy child. He scrambled up quickly, brushing the soil from his knees with sharp, embarrassed movements while glancing about to confirm his humiliation had no witnesses.

Before him stretched a vision so perfect it seemed ripped from the dreams of poets. A tranquil lake reflected the full moon and star-strewn sky, gentle ripples danced across the water like nymphs at play. The surrounding meadow glowed emerald in the moonlight while fireflies weaved through the air— living sparks from Hestia's eternal flame. Towering over the scene stood a magnolia tree, its pearl-white blossoms luminous against the night, petals drifting down like snowflakes to carpet the ground below. The air hummed with the rhythmic chorus of crickets like delicate lyres strumming in harmony to the wind's gentle melody. And there, beneath the magnolia's boughs, stood the source of the ethereal radiance that illuminated this hidden sanctuary.

Time itself seemed to pause as Alexander's eyes beheld her. Flowing H/C locks cascaded over her shoulders draped in silken fabric of her chiton that appeared woven from morning mist and pearls. Golden bracelets glimmered at her wrists as she cradled a dove with infinite tenderness, her lips murmuring comforts only the divine could impart.

Alexander's pulse thundered in his ears. The air grew thick, time itself pausing in reverence. No mortal woman could possess such unearthly grace, such effortless perfection. The stories, the statues, the temple frescoes - all had failed to capture even a fraction of her beauty. That was when he knew that before him stood none other than Aphrodite herself, goddess of love and beauty.

Driven by a hunger that burned hotter than reason, Alexander stepped forward, his fingers trembling as they reached for her—not in worship, but in desperate, human need. To touch. To prove she was real. But the forest betrayed him. A branch snapped beneath his foot, the sound as sharp as a blade through the sacred silence.

Her head whipped toward him.

And in that instant—reality shattered.

The face that met his was young, terrified. A girl. No older than him, if not younger. Her eyes—wide with panic—locked onto his for a single, breathless moment before she scrambled to her feet, the dove still clutched protectively in her hands. Then she was running, her bare feet kicking up dew as she vanished into the trees.

“Wait!” Alexander's voice tore from his throat, raw with something between command and plea.

Doubt clawed at him. Had he committed sacrilege? Was she a nymph, a spirit, forbidden to mortal eyes? The way she had looked at him—not with divine indifference, but fear—gnawed at his certainty. Yet even as guilt prickled at his conscience, a darker, hungrier thought took root.

She had run from him.

And Alexander of Macedon did not tolerate flight.

His mother’s voice slithered through his mind, seductive as a serpent: “You are blessed by Zeus. The world is yours to claim.”

If this girl was divine, then she belonged among his conquests.

If she was mortal—then she had no right to refuse him.

The days stretched on, each one longer than the last, as Alexander returned again and again to the hidden glade. But the girl—the vision—was nowhere to be found. The magnolia tree stood as silent witness to his frustration, its petals drifting onto the undisturbed surface of the lake. She had vanished like morning mist under the sun.

“As I have told you before, my prince, it is... improbable that she was divine.” Hephaestion's voice was measured, the way one might speak to a restless hound before it snapped. “More likely, she was a girl from the village—perhaps the daughter of some wealthy merchant.”

Alexander scoffed, fingers tightening around the edge of his cup. “You think I do not know the difference between merchant's silk and the raiment of a goddess?” The fabric she had worn had seemed spun from the finest of pearls of Poseidon's waters, the gold at her wrists too pure, too alive, to be the work of mortal hands. “No village girl owns such things. No noble in this city could afford them.”

Hephaestion exhaled, weary. “Then what do you intend to do?”

Alexander's gaze darkened. “Find her.”

Then—a thought struck him like a blade between the ribs.

Cassander.

Had he known her? Had he been sneaking out to meet her all this time?

Cassander was seated in the courtyard, methodically running a whetstone along the edge of his sword when Alexander approached. The son of Antipater glanced up, his usual smirk in place. “My prince,” he greeted, setting his blade aside. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Alexander forced a smile. “I was hoping you might join me in the library tonight. I mean to study the old texts—perhaps you could lend your insight.”

A flicker of hesitation. Then Cassander sighed, rubbing his temple. “I am honored, but I must beg your pardon. I’ve been feeling unwell—I thought to retire early.”

Liar.

Alexander’s blood burned. Today was the night—the same pattern as before. Cassander knew. He had to. And now he dared refuse his prince’s request, hiding behind false weakness? “I see,” Alexander said, his voice dangerously smooth. “Then may Apollo’s grace restore you swiftly.”

He turned away before Cassander could see the fury in his eyes.

Hephaestion was waiting where Alexander had left him, arms crossed, watching the exchange with quiet unease.

“You will come with me tonight,” Alexander commanded, his voice low. “To the meadows.”

Hephaestion frowned. “My prince—”

“You will see her,” Alexander interrupted, his eyes alight with something perilous. “And then you will understand.”

The sun had barely dipped below the horizon when Alexander and Hephaestion slipped through the crumbling gap in the wall. The prince moved with the precision of a seasoned hunter; his every sense attuned to the whispers of the night. Hephaestion followed, his unease growing with each step deeper into the forbidden woods.

“We shouldn't be out here after curfew,” Hephaestion muttered, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

Alexander didn't slow. “Then consider this a royal command overriding temple law.” His voice left no room for debate.

The forest grew denser, the path Cassander had taken now illuminated only by the faint glow of fireflies. Alexander's pulse quickened—every rustle of leaves, every snapped twig could mean she was near. Or worse, that Cassander had gotten there first.

Then—her voice.

Sweet and clear as a songbird’s call, it floated through the trees:

“Cassander… is that you?”

Through the tangled foliage, torchlight flickered, painting the trunks in gold and shadow. There. The girl stood just beyond the thicket, her silhouette haloed in firelight.

Hephaestion’s sharp inhale confirmed it—she was real. Not a specter, not a trick of the moonlight. Alexander’s grinned in triumph.

Then, like a predator coiling before the strike, he stepped back—once, twice—before surging forward, bursting into the clearing with the force of a storm.

The girl whirled, her eyes widening in terror. She stumbled back, but Alexander was faster. His hand closed around her wrist, yanking her to a halt.

For a moment, he said nothing. Just stared.

Up close, she was more breathtaking than he remembered. Her skin was impossibly soft beneath his calloused fingers, warm as sunlight. Her hair—loose and tumbling over her shoulders—gleamed like spun gold. And her eyes… wide, luminous, frightened. Tears welled along her lashes, but she didn’t look away. Alexander’s breath caught. Gods. Even in distress, she was radiant.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Let me go.”

She twisted in his grip, but Alexander barely registered the struggle. His free hand rose almost of its own accord, brushing a stray lock from her face. Her hair slipped through his fingers like silk, finer than any royal weave. He ached to cradle her cheek, to claim this moment—

“Alexander.”

Hephaestion’s voice cut through the haze, sharp as a blade. The girl seized the distraction, wrenching free with a sob. Before Alexander could react, she darted behind Hephaestion, fists clutching his chiton like a lifeline.

Alexander blinked, disoriented. “Y/N?” Hephaestion murmured, half-turning to shield her.

Cassander burst from the trees then, his face paling as he took in the scene. “Y/N! Wait— Hephaestion? What in Hades—?”

“Cassander!” The girl lunged past Hephaestion, crashing into Cassander’s chest. His arms closed around her instinctively, his glare snapping to Alexander.

The prince’s blood turned to lava.

“Explain,” Alexander snarled. His hand flexed at his side, fingers itching for his sword. The pieces crashed together with brutal clarity. Hephaestion, who’d doubted her existence, now stood as her protector? Cassander, who'd lied to his prince, held her like she was his? Every muscle in his body coiled, ready to strike. Betrayal. Hot and noxious, it coiled in his gut.

The girl flinched at his tone, pressing closer to Cassander.

Hephaestion stepped forward, his voice low. ”Alexander, this isn’t what you think.”

“Then enlighten me,” Alexander bit out. The words dripped venom.

Cassander’s grip tightened on the girl. “It is not what you think my prince. She’s my—”

Alexander took a menacing step forward, the air around him crackling with barely restrained fury. “Your what?” he interrupted, each word a dagger thrust. His voice dropped to a whisper that carried more threat than any shout. “Finish that sentence, Cassander. I command you.”

The clearing seemed to hold its breath. The rustling leaves stilled. Even the ever-present chorus of crickets fell silent, as if nature itself recoiled from the storm about to break.

Hephaestion, standing rigid between them, finally broke the suffocating silence. “Alexander,” he said carefully, “she's Cassander's sister.”

The words hung suspended in the air, heavy with implication.

For several heartbeats, Alexander simply stared, his mind struggling to reconcile this new reality with the divine vision he'd convinced himself he'd seen. Sister. The word echoed in his skull, unraveling the fantasy thread by thread.

“Then how is it I've never known of her before?” he demanded, though the fire in his voice had dimmed, replaced by something perilously close to relief.

Cassander sighed, his grip on the girl loosening marginally. “My lord, she is the daughter of my father's third wife,” he explained, his tone carefully neutral. Alexander knew Antipater had taken multiple wives—common among nobles—but had paid little attention to any offspring beyond Cassander, the only one deemed worthy of political consideration. Noble daughters, especially young ones, were often kept out of public view until marriageable age, and this girl was clearly not yet of that station.

Hephaestion added quietly, “Our mothers were close in their youth. Cassander and his siblings have always been welcome in our home.” There was an unspoken truth beneath his words: the sons of nobles moved in circles Alexander, as prince, could never fully inhabit. They respected him, yes, even cared for him—but there were lines they would not cross, boundaries he could never breach.

Alexander's fingers uncurled from the hilt of his sword.

But Hephaestion was not finished. He knew Cassander's pride was a brittle thing, especially when it came to his family's honor, and Alexander's actions had skirted dangerously close to insult. “Cassander,” he began, choosing his words with the precision of a diplomat, “you must understand. The prince acted out of concern. He believed Y/N was a common village girl distracting you from your studies at Meiza. His methods were... misguided, but his intent was pure.”

A beat. Then Cassander nodded, though his jaw remained tight. “I understand.”

Behind him, the girl—Y/N—remained half-hidden, her wide eyes darting between them like a hare assessing its predators. Cassander turned to her, murmuring something too low for the others to hear, before stepping forward to clasp Alexander's arm in a gesture of truce.

Hephaestion seized the opportunity to lean down to Y/N. “Are you alright?” he asked softly, his voice the gentle cadence she had come to associate with safety. She nodded, though her fingers still trembled from uncertainty.

When Cassander returned, the tension in his shoulders had eased. “It seems introductions are in order,” he said, with forced lightness. “My prince, may I present my sister, the third daughter of the House of Iolaos— Lady Y/N.”

Y/N dipped into a flawless bow, her eyes demurely lowered.

“And Y/N,” Cassander continued, “this is Alexander, Prince of Macedon.”

Alexander offered her a smile that might have been charming under different circumstances. Then, to the shock of all present, he extended his hand—not in command, but in request.

Y/N hesitated, her gaze flicking to Cassander, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. Swallowing her fear, she placed her hand in Alexander's.

Instead of shaking it, he raised her fingers to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles with a reverence that bordered on theatrical. “Forgive my earlier discourtesy, my lady,” he murmured, his voice smooth as honeyed wine. ”I meant you no harm.”

The gesture was one reserved for cherished friends—or equals. A blatant lie, given the fury of moments before, but a necessary performance.

The tension in the clearing eased, but the air still thrummed with unspoken words. Alexander released Y/N's hand, though his fingers lingered for a heartbeat too long—a silent promise that this encounter was not the end, but the beginning.

“We should return before the night deepens,” Hephaestion urged, his voice low but firm. “Before the temple masters notice our absence.” His eyes flickered between Alexander and Cassander, well aware that this peace was as fragile as spun glass.

Cassander gave a curt nod, turning to Y/N. His expression, so often sharp with arrogance, softened as he cupped her face. “Go,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Your nurse will be waiting.” A gentle nudge toward the path where he knew her attendants stood guard—his silent assurance that she would be safe from prying eyes, from him.

But the prince of Macedon wasn't one to be shaken off so easily.

“Y/N.”

Her name rolled off his tongue like honeyed wine, smooth and deliberate. She froze mid-step, the fine linen of her chiton whispering against her skin as she turned just enough to meet his gaze over her shoulder.

Alexander smiled—not the charming grin of a prince, but the slow, deliberate curve of a predator savoring the scent of its prey. “Now that we are properly acquainted,” he said, “I would be honored if you would grace us with your company again. Soon.”

A command disguised as a request.

Y/N’s throat tightened, but she dipped into a flawless curtsey, her lashes brushing her cheeks. “As you wish, my prince.”

As Y/N's retreating footsteps faded into the night, Alexander inhaled slowly, savoring the lingering scent of magnolias that clung stubbornly to the air. The taste of victory was sweet upon his tongue - but incomplete.

The group moved in heavy silence, the crunch of leaves beneath their sandals the only sound. Cassander lingered a few paces behind, his brow furrowed in quiet contemplation, while Hephaestion walked slightly ahead while, his shoulders tense. Alexander, meanwhile, seemed almost at ease, his hands clasped behind his back as if they had merely enjoyed a moonlit stroll.

Hephaestion’s stomach twisted with unease. He cared deeply for Alexander—had followed him without question through battles and trials—but he knew better than anyone the dangerous fire that burned within the prince. It was the same fire that had burned Troy to the ground, the kind that consumed everything in its path. And now, it had fixated on Y/N. Gods help her, he thought, if she becomes the kindling for that flame.

“Your sister,” Alexander mused suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade through silk. “She is timid, yet there is a sweetness to her. So marked, in fact, that I find myself questioning if the two of you share any blood at all.” He chuckled, as if it were nothing more than a jest—a jest that expected laughter in return.

“My sister is merely unaccustomed to strangers, my prince,” he replied, his tone carefully measured. “Particularly those who... handle her so callously.” The unspoken accusation hung between them.

Alexander turned, his smile sharp and humorless, never quite reaching his eyes. “Ah, then I shall have to make amends,” he said smoothly. “A proper apology is in order, wouldn’t you agree?” Hephaestion suppressed a grimace. They all knew it was nothing more than an excuse—a thinly veiled ploy to see her again. Yet neither he nor Cassander dared voice the objection aloud.

In the days that followed, a calm settled over them. Alexander played his part flawlessly. He drew closer to Cassander, engaging him in debates, training alongside him, even jesting with him as though the incident in the woods had never occurred. There was no mention of Y/N, no lingering questions—at least, not spoken aloud.

To an outsider, it might have seemed as though Alexander had moved on, his fleeting fascination with Cassander’s sister forgotten as quickly as it had ignited.

But Hephaestion knew better.

It was during one of their evening walks through the olive groves that Alexander finally struck.

“What I still don’t understand,” he began, his tone deceptively light, as though discussing nothing more consequential than the weather, “is why your sister is not with the rest of your family.”

Cassander stilled, his fingers twitching imperceptibly at his sides. For a moment, it seemed he might not answer. Then, with deliberate calm, he replied, “Her mother has little interest in child-rearing. She prefers her own pursuits to the duties of motherhood.” A flicker of disdain crossed his features. “I despise her for it, amongst other things. But Y/N... she is nothing like her.”

Alexander arched a brow, feigning polite curiosity. “And so she remains here?”

“The great Aristotle resides in Meiza,” Cassander said, his voice softening slightly. “Scholars and thinkers frequent these halls. I convinced my father to let her accompany me so that I might oversee her education.”

“How... noble of you,” he murmured, the words dripping with false admiration. Then, with a calculated shift, he added, “Speaking of nobility—regarding that apology I owe her. I was thinking of compensating your sister for the distress I caused. Silk from Corinth, perhaps? Or gold from Lydia’s mines? Pearls plucked fresh from the Aegean?” His tone was smooth, but the glint in his eyes was anything but benign.

Cassander shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, my prince. Your words that evening were apology enough.”

Alexander waved a dismissive hand, though his gaze never wavered. “Nonsense. I insist.” The air between them grew heavy, the unspoken challenge unmistakable—refuse me again, and see what happens.

Hephaestion, sensing the tension coiling like a viper ready to strike, stepped forward. “With all due respect, my prince,” he interjected smoothly, “Y/N is the daughter of Antipater, the most celebrated general in Macedonia. Silk and gold are hardly rare treasures in their household. Rather words of sincerity are gifts unparalleled.” His voice was light, but his stance was firm—a shield thrown between Alexander’s will and Cassander’s rising temper.

“You are correct. I suppose I shall have to look for another gift then.” Alexander conceded, the corner of his mouth quirking upward.

True to his word, Alexander spent the following days in quiet deliberation. He dismissed the obvious offerings—jewels, silks, perfumes from the East—all trinkets that might impress a courtier’s daughter but would mean nothing to a girl who valued thought and effort over finery.

Then, one evening as he walked past the magnolia tree where he had first seen her, inspiration struck.

With meticulous care, he selected a sturdy branch and set to work, his dagger carving delicate strokes into the wood late into the night. The servants whispered about the prince’s strange new obsession, but Alexander paid them no mind. Perfection could not be rushed.

When the next fortnight arrived, Alexander appeared at Cassander’s door unannounced, his smile as polished as his ceremonial armor.

“Walk with me,” he said, and it was not a request.

Cassander knew better than to refuse.

The meadow lay bathed in silver moonlight, just as it had been that fateful evening. And there, beneath the great magnolia, stood Y/N—her silhouette haloed in pale blossoms. At the sound of approaching footsteps, she turned, her face alight with expectation... until she saw Alexander.

The prince's heart stuttered in his chest like a startled bird.

Discomfort flickered across her features, swift as a shadow over water. It's alright, Alexander told himself, the words a mantra. She'll come to see me. She must.

“Why is His Highness here?” Y/N's voice was small but clear, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her chiton.

Cassander opened his mouth to reply, but Alexander was already stepping forward, his every movement calculated to disarm. “To offer my apologies properly, my lady.” He turned to Cassander, one brow arched in silent request.

With a barely perceptible sigh, Cassander squeezed his sister's hand—be brave—and withdrew to a discreet distance. Close enough to intervene, far enough to grant the illusion of privacy.

Alexander was every inch the royal heir in that moment: his bearing regal, his chiton draped to perfection, the very air around him seeming to hum with latent power. He had inherited his mother's effortless charm and his father's commanding presence—qualities that, when wielded together, could bend wills without raising a sword.

“Greetings, my lady. Are you well?” he began, his voice warm as summer honey.

Y/N's gaze darted to the ground. “I am, my prince. And you needn't—”

“Please,” he interrupted gently, lifting a hand. “Allow me this.” He inclined his head, the very picture of contrition. “I was discourteous to you, and I regret my actions deeply. More than that...” Here, he paused, as if searching for the right words. “I wish to know you, Y/N. Not as a prince to a subject, but as one soul to another.”

From his belt, he produced a small wooden dove, its wings delicately carved, its surface polished to a soft sheen. The scent of magnolia clung to it like a memory.

“I carved this myself,” he admitted, running a thumb over its back. “From a branch of this very tree. The imperfections are many, I fear, but...” He held it out to her, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. “Perhaps that makes it more honest.”

Y/N's breath caught. The dove was exquisite—the wings tapered to near-translucent thinness, the feathers etched with painstaking care. This was no hastily purchased trinket, but something made with time, with attention. Her fingers trembled as she took it, tracing the grooves left by his knife.

“You... made this?” she whispered, her eyes wide.

Alexander nodded, uncharacteristically silent.

For the first time, Y/N looked at him—truly looked at him. Not as the terrifying prince who had chased her through the woods, but as the young man before her now: his usually impeccable hair tousled by the night breeze, a smudge of wood dust still clinging to his wrist.

Her smile, when it came, was like dawn breaking over the Aegean—slow, radiant, utterly disarming.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” she said, cradling the dove to her chest. “I will treasure it always.”

And Alexander, a child born to be the conqueror of men, the scion of gods, found himself struck dumb.

In the weeks that followed, Y/N had grown bold enough to insist that Cassander bring both Hephaestion and Alexander along during their fortnightly visits. The prince, of course, was all too eager to oblige. For Y/N, who had spent most of her life sheltered within the confines of noble propriety, these gatherings were a rare taste of companionship beyond her brother’s watchful presence. They would talk, play games, and laugh—just as young people ought to.

But not all was as harmonious as it seemed.

Though Hephaestion occasionally excused himself—whether out of discretion or discomfort, none could say—Alexander never missed a single meeting. His presence, once a novelty, soon became a constant, and Cassander found himself increasingly sidelined. Here, in this meadow that had once been his sanctuary with Y/N, he now felt like an intruder in his own sister’s affections.

Worse still, he could not deny the irony: Alexander, his closest friend, now stole the very moments Cassander cherished most.

And Alexander, for his part, had begun to see Cassander not as a brother-in-arms, but as an obstacle—a necessary nuisance, yes, but a nuisance all the same.

One evening, as silver light filtered through the leaves, Y/N sat weaving a crown of flowers, her fingers deft as they threaded blossoms together. Nearby, Hephaestion and Cassander sparred with wooden swords, their mock battle filled with laughter and good-natured taunts.

Alexander, leaning beside Y/N with his head in her lap, watched her work with quiet fascination.

“My lady,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. “May I be so bold as to make a request?”

Y/N didn’t look up, her fingers still busy with the flowers. “Go right ahead.”

Alexander took a breath. “I’ve noticed how much Cassander values his time with you. As do I.” He paused, choosing his next words carefully. “But when we’re all together, it feels... crowded. I was thinking—what if we met at different times? Just you and I?”

Y/N’s hands stilled. The flower crown slipped from her fingers.

“What are you implying, my prince?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Alexander sat up, turning to face her fully. “Nothing untoward, I assure you. It’s merely practical. Fewer people mean less risk of being caught by the temple masters. And it would give Cassander more time with you as well.”

Y/N bit her lip. “My mother says a young lady shouldn’t be alone with a man unchaperoned.”

“But you wouldn’t be alone,” Alexander countered smoothly. “Your guard and nurse are always stationed nearby, are they not?”

Y/N hesitated. Technically, he was right. Seeing her waver, Alexander leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Unless... you’re afraid my company will ruin all others for you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. Then, with a huff, she did something no one had ever dared—she smacked his arm.

It was a light tap, the kind she often gave Cassander when he teased her too much. But coming from her, directed at him—Alexander gasped in exaggerated offense.

“You dare strike a prince?” he declared, his tone dripping with mock outrage. “ This is treason! Punishable by—”

Y/N didn’t wait to hear the rest. She was already running, her laughter ringing through the trees.

“Forgive me, O merciful prince!” she called over her shoulder, her voice bright with amusement.

Alexander gave chase, his long legs closing the distance between them with ease. When he caught her, his arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground in a spinning embrace. They were both breathless with laughter as he gently placed her onto the soft grass.

“Traitor,” he accused, looming over her with a grin. “By the decree the heir of Macedonia, you shall be punished.”

And then—he tickled her.

Y/N shrieked, her laughter bordering on hysterical as she writhed beneath his relentless fingers. “Stop! Please! I yield!”

Alexander relented, but only slightly. “Only if you say yes to my proposal,” he bargained, his eyes alight with mischief.

Y/N’s laughter faded. She searched his face, her expression turning serious. “And Cassander?”

Alexander’s smile softened. “He’s too overprotective. But you deserve freedom. It can be our secret, yes?”

For a long moment, Y/N was silent. Then, with a slow nod—

“Alright.”

The oil lamps in Alexander’s chambers flickered, casting long shadows across the walls. The scent of spiced wine and burning wicks hung heavy in the air, but the tension between the two youths was thicker still.

Hephaestion stood rigid by the doorway, his usually composed features strained with uncharacteristic intensity. “My prince,” he began again, his voice carefully measured, “I must ask—why are you doing this?”

Alexander didn’t look up from his wine cup, his fingers idly tracing its golden rim. The ruby liquid within caught the light, shimmering like spilled blood. “I’ve no idea what you mean,” he murmured, his tone deliberately light.

A muscle twitched in Hephaestion’s jaw. “Lady Y/N,” he pressed, refusing to let the prince feign ignorance. “She is Cassander’s sister. Antipater’s daughter. Your... interest in her is more than concerning. If word got out—if rumors spread—it could ruin her reputation. Is that what you want?”

For the first time, Alexander lifted his gaze. His eyes, usually so vibrant with mischief or command, were unnervingly still—like the calm before a storm. “And what if it is?”

The words landed like a blow.

Hephaestion actually took a step back, his breath catching. Had he heard correctly? The prince couldn’t possibly mean—

Alexander smirked, tilting his head like a predator studying wounded prey. “Does my friendship with Lady Y/N truly threaten you so much, philos?” The endearment—friend—was laced with mocking sweetness.

Hephaestion’s hands clenched at his sides. There was nothing he could say—nothing that would sway Alexander once his mind was set. And if he breathed a word of this to Cassander? The consequences would be catastrophic. Cassander’s temper was legendary, and no amount of loyalty would stop him from confronting Alexander directly—a death sentence, whether by the prince’s hand or his father’s.

So Hephaestion did the only thing he could.

He stayed silent.

For the first time in their long friendship, Hephaestion felt genuine fear - not for himself, but for Y/N, for Cassander, for the fragile peace that Alexander seemed determined to shatter.

“You wouldn't.” The words escaped Hephaestion's lips before he could stop them, raw with disbelief. “Not to her. Not to Cassander.”

Alexander finally set down his wine cup with deliberate slowness, the metallic clink echoing in the tense silence. When he spoke again, his voice had lost its mocking edge, replaced by something far more dangerous - absolute certainty. “I am Alexander of Macedon. I take what I want.”

The casual brutality of the declaration struck Hephaestion like Zeus’ lightning. This wasn't the passionate declaration of a lovestruck youth - it was the cold calculation of a conqueror assessing new territory. The realization made his blood run cold.

“She's not a city to be besieged,” Hephaestion countered, his voice tight with barely restrained anger. “She's a living, breathing woman who—”

“Who will be honored beyond measure,” Alexander interrupted, rising from his couch with panther-like grace. “Imagine it - the daughter of Antipater, raised to the future king of Macedon's beloved. Why, I'd be doing their house a favor.” He began pacing, his excitement growing with each step. “Cassander should be thanking me. But he doesn't has to know. Yet. Though a part of me wishes to tell him.”

Hephaestion's stomach twisted violently, as though he'd swallowed poison. “You cannot be serious,” he repeated, his voice low and urgent. “Cassander will not simply see reason—you know him better than that. He would rather throw himself from the cliffs of Mount Olympus than allow you to—”

Alexander cut him off with a flick of his wrist, his rings glinting in the lamplight. “He will rage, he will bluster, and then he will kneel,” he corrected, his voice smooth as polished marble. “They always do.”

Then, with terrifying suddenness, the prince stilled. His gaze—sharp as a dagger's point—locked onto Hephaestion. “Unless,” he mused, tilting his head with feigned curiosity, “you intend to warn him first? Is that your plan? In some pitiful attempt to keep from me what the Fates have already decreed mine?”

The threat coiled between them, serpentine and suffocating. Hephaestion felt the weight of it press against his ribs, stealing his breath. This was no mere test of loyalty—it was a blade held to his throat, waiting to see if he would flinch.

To oppose Alexander now would be exile.

Or death.

“Of course not,” Hephaestion forced out, the lie bitter on his tongue. “I am, as always, your loyal friend.”

Alexander's grin was a flash of white in the dim light, triumphant and terrible. “I knew I could count on you.” His hand came down on Hephaestion's shoulder—a gesture that might have been comradely, had his fingers not dug in like talons. “You should rest,” he advised, his tone deceptively light.

Then, with the casual cruelty of a cat releasing a half-dead mouse: “And I, it seems, have a tryst with a lovely lady under the moonlight.”

Outside, the moon hung full and bright over Meiza, its pale light doing nothing to dispel the darkness gathering in Hephaestion's heart. Somewhere in the night, oblivious to the storm brewing around her Y/N waited for the prince— blissfully unaware.

The tall grasses swayed gently in the cool breeze, their silvered tips whispering secrets to the stars. Fireflies drifted lazily through the air, their golden lights flickering like distant stars brought down to earth. And there, in the heart of this enchanted clearing, stood Y/N.

In her hands, she cradled the small wooden dove, Alexander’s gift, her fingers tracing its delicate wings absentmindedly. The night was still, save for the distant chirping of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves.

Then—footsteps.

The crunch of dry grass underfoot made her turn, her heart leaping in her chest.

“My prince?” she called out, her voice light but tinged with uncertainty.

From the shadows of the ivy-clad trees, Alexander emerged, his figure cutting a striking silhouette against the moonlit backdrop. He was dressed more casually than usual, his chiton simpler, his hair slightly tousled—as if he had hurried here. Yet even in this state, he carried himself with the effortless grace of royalty.

“Greetings, my lady,” he said, his voice warm, his smile as charming as ever. But then his expression shifted, a playful glint entering his eyes. “Though I must say, the titles ‘my prince’ and ‘your highness’ feel far too formal for such a setting, don’t you think?” He stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking. “After all, we are friends, are we not?”

Y/N’s lips parted slightly. “I’d say we are...” She nearly added my prince out of habit but caught herself, her brow furrowing in confusion. What was he asking of her?

Alexander didn’t miss her hesitation. “I wish for you to call me by my name,” he said, his tone leaving no room for misinterpretation.

Y/N’s breath hitched. “I-I couldn’t,” she stammered. It was common knowledge—addressing royalty by name without honorifics was not just improper, it was forbidden unless given explicit permission. Even Cassander and Hephaestion only did so in private, and even then, it was a privilege earned through years of friendship. For her to do so? It felt like stepping onto sacred ground.

“Consider it an order,” Alexander said, his voice firm but not unkind. “From this moment on, you shall call me by my name.”

Y/N swallowed hard. Then, softly, testing the weight of the word on her tongue—

“Yes... Alexander.”

The moment his name passed her lips, something shifted in the air between them. Alexander’s entire body thrumming with an electric thrill. The way she said it—hesitant yet sweet, like a secret whispered for the first time—sent a rush of heat to his head, dizzying in its intensity. It was unadorned and intimate yet sharp and intoxicating.

“Say it again,” he commanded, his voice low.

“Alexander,” she repeated, this time with less hesitation, though her tone still carried a note of uncertainty, as if she were speaking a word from a foreign tongue for the first time.

“Again.”

“Alexander.” Louder now. Steadier. As if she were shedding her fear, layer by layer, revealing something new beneath with each utterance.

A slow, satisfied smile curved his lips. “Again.”

A sigh escaped her lips, followed by a small, bemused smile. “Is this a new game you’ve devised, Alexander?” The way she said his name—teasing, almost musical—sent another jolt of pleasure through him. It was nectar to a man starved, and he found himself craving more.

Alexander shook his head, his smile widening. “No game, my lady. Merely... an indulgence.” He stepped even closer, close enough that the scent of her—honey and wildflowers—filled his senses. “Though if you’d like to play one, I’d be happy to oblige.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, the silver light catching in her dark eyes like stars reflected in still water. “Then what are we doing tonight?” she asked, her voice carrying a new note of confidence now that the barrier of formality had been broken between them.

Alexander's smile was slow, deliberate—the expression of a man who knew exactly what he wanted but was content to savor the anticipation. “Whatever you desire,” he murmured, watching her closely.

A small, knowing smile graced Y/N's lips as she reached into the leather satchel slung over her shoulder. “In that case,” she said, producing several tightly rolled scrolls, “I brought some light reading. Do you like to read, my—” She caught herself just in time, her cheeks flushing. “—Alexander?”

The prince's eyebrows shot up, his grin turning wolfish. “‘My Alexander’?” he repeated, his voice rich with amusement. “That sounded far better than I expected. I think I shall allow it.”

Y/N's mouth fell open in protest, her hands fluttering in embarrassed denial. “That—that wasn't—I didn't mean—”

Alexander threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet meadow. “Oh, but you did,” he teased, delighted by her flustered reaction. “And I rather like it.”

Composing himself, he gestured to the scrolls. “To answer your question properly—yes, my lady, I do read. In fact, I'm quite fond of the literary arts. Aristotle would say they are the very foundation of human existence.” His tone was light, but his surprise was genuine. It was uncommon for women to be educated beyond basic household management—a deliberate limitation, his mother had often explained, meant to keep them from grasping true power.

Olympias had taught him that oppression was simply another tool for those strong enough to wield it. “Fill the people's minds only with thoughts of bread and spectacle,” she'd said, “and they will never think to question their chains.” But Alexander didn’t always agree. Knowledge was power, and power should not be hoarded—it should be taken, by those bold enough to seize it.

Y/N, however, was no commoner to be kept ignorant. As the daughter of Antipater, her education would have been carefully curated—though clearly, Cassander had taken matters into his own hands.

“Let's take a look,” Alexander said, reaching for the scrolls.

The moonlight, while beautiful, was too faint for reading. Y/N produced a small oil lamp from her bag, and as she struck flint to steel, the warm glow illuminated the delicate planes of her face. Alexander watched, mesmerized, as she unfurled the first scroll and began to read aloud.

Her voice was melodic, each word shaped with care, and for a long moment, Alexander was too lost in the sound to register the content. Then, abruptly, he stiffened.

“This—” he interrupted, leaning forward. “This is taught in the temple!”

Y/N paused, meeting his gaze evenly. “Yes,” she admitted. “Cassander gives me his old scrolls and teaches me what he learns within those walls. It's the only way he trusts the quality of my education—especially after my last tutor.”

There was a story there, Alexander could tell—one laced with bitterness. But for now, he was too intrigued by the revelation before him.

“So,” he said slowly, his voice carrying a note of genuine admiration, “you've been studying in secret.”

Y/N's smile was small but unmistakably proud, her fingers tracing the edge of the scroll with quiet reverence. “Not so secret anymore,” she replied, meeting his gaze with a steadiness that surprised him.

Alexander chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s an admirable trait, this hunger for knowledge. Your brother clearly intends to raise you as more than just another noblewoman draped in silk and jewels. He wants you to be a woman of intellect—of substance.” He tilted his head, curiosity sharpening his features. “But tell me, my dove—what crimes did this former tutor commit to earn such exile from your education?”

Y/N blinked. ”Dove?” The endearment had caught her off guard, derailing her thoughts entirely.

Alexander’s lips quirked. “Yes. You remind me of one.” His gaze lingered on the delicate curve of her neck, the way her hands fluttered nervously when surprised—graceful, fragile, yet somehow enduring. “Gentle. Quick to startle. Beautiful in flight.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she exhaled, her expression darkening as she returned to the question at hand.

“My previous tutor was hired by my mother,” she began, her voice carefully neutral, though Alexander didn’t miss the way her fingers tightened around the scroll. “A woman who did everything except impart actual knowledge—though, in truth, I’m not certain she possessed any to begin with.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “She insisted a woman’s place wasn’t in literature or philosophy, but in perfecting the art of being a nobleman’s wife. She policed my appearance—how much I ate, how long I stayed in the sun lest it ‘mar my complexion’ and ruin my prospects. ”

Alexander’s brows drew together. “And your mother allowed this?”

“Encouraged it, actually,” Y/N said flatly. “Mother reminded me often that I was but three, perhaps four winters from marriageable age, and that I should focus on ‘womanly skills’ rather than—” She gestured to the scrolls with a dismissive flick of her wrist, “—all of this.”

“Nonsense!” The word burst from Alexander with unexpected vehemence, his hand slamming against the tree trunk beside him. “You’re a child. Marriage? That’s outrageous.”

Even as he said it, he knew the hypocrisy of his words. Girls were routinely married at fourteen, sixteen at the latest, often to men twice their age. He had attended enough political unions to know how the game was played. But the thought of Y/N—her quick mind, her bright laughter, her spirit still unbroken by the world—being handed over to some aging lordling like a prize mare made his blood boil.

Never, he thought, the possessiveness startling even him. Never will something of this sort happen to her. Ever.

Y/N, oblivious to his internal fury, continued. “That’s why Cassander brought me here. He was livid when he discovered what passed for my ‘education.’” A fond smile tugged at her lips as she recalled her brother’s outrage. “He fought with Father for months—said he wouldn’t let me be sold off like some broodmare or a pleasure sleeve, though I'm not sure what either of those words actually mean— I’ve heard Cassander say it in one of his arguments. Regardless, he won. Meiza was the compromise.”

She laughed then, the sound bright and clear in the night air. “He ranted for days about how he wouldn’t let some ‘old pervert’ lay a finger on me. Swore he’d only approve a match if the man proved himself worthy.”

Alexander’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “Worthy, hm?” He leaned forward, the lamplight casting sharp shadows across his face. “And what, pray tell, does your brother consider ‘worthy’?”

Y/N shrugged, unaware of the trap in the question. “Someone of status, power and valor. Someone who sees me as more than a pretty accessory, I suppose. Someone who has the intelligence to respect my mind as much as my face.”

Alexander hummed, his gaze never leaving hers. “A high standard indeed.”

And one, he thought, that I fully intend to meet.

╰┈➤ Masterlist

#yandere male #male yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #alexander the great #yandere history #yandere historical characters #alexander the great x reader #yandere alexander the great #yandere alexander the great x reader #yandere historical characters x reader

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vivid-dreamscapes · 1 year ago

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~♡~Caught~♡~ Bakugou X reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tw: Swearing, suggestive themes Themes: Humor mainly Summery: Getting caught in the middle of being hot and heavy ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well this was embarrassing. Just two seconds ago, you had been making hella love with your boyfriend, Katsuki Bakugou, at 2:56 AM. Things were going well, you were getting your brains fucked out, he was saying some not so SFW stuff to you, all that.

Then the ever so lovely Kirishima decided to burst in for gods knows what reason, and now you were stuck here, hiding under the covers of your boyfriend’s bed, naked, bound at the wrists with the black tank top he had been wearing, and gagged with the new ball gag he had been excited to try out.

Bakugou’s whole body tensed up in shock as the sound of the door banging open suddenly jolted him out of the state he was in, his eyes snapping to the door where Kirishima was standing.

He was so taken off guard by the sudden arrival that he could barely muster up a response to Kirishima.

“WHAT THE HELL SHITTY HAIR!?!!” The blonde yelled, trying desperately to prepare himself to act like nothing was out of the usual.

The fact that the two of you’s clothes were strewn on the floor didn’t help though. Hopefully Kirishima wouldn’t see them in the dark. And assume that Bakugou just slept shirtless.

Bakugou was practically holding his breath, hoping that Kirishima wouldn’t notice any of the clothes and just think nothing was odd about the room.

Unfortunately, Kirishima was not that thick.

“Hey man, are you alone in here?”

Your boyfriend let out an internal swear inside his mind as Kirishima asked that particular question, knowing that he could not say that he was alone in here without being obviously caught in a lie.

“Y-yeah, why?” Bakugou answered and then silently cursed himself at the slight shake in his voice.

Kirishima paused before looking up at him. “Nothing, I just-“

“Heyy, we bothering kcchan?”

Both you and your boyfriend went stiff. Oh no. For fucks sake. Denki Kaminari’s voice was heard as he poked his head into the room alongside Kirishima.

The spiky blonde heard the dumber blonde’s voice too, feeling his heart almost stop as he realized that not only was Kirishima there, but now Denki was too.

He wanted to strangle both of them for being so goddamn stubborn about coming to check on him at such an ungodly hour of the night.

“Yeah, why’s it so dark in here?” Denki pondered, looking around.

“Because I was trying to sleep, dipshit!”

The little electric boy raised an eyebrow before he recognized your ‘Yeah, I rolled my eyes at you, sue me’ shirt on the floor, plus your favorite bottoms.

He glanced over at Bakugou who was mentally swearing again, but still trying to act as innocent as possible.

“Hey Bakubro…?”

“What?”

You tended up and prayed your friend wouldn’t recognize the outfit as your own. But luck really wasn’t on your side today.

Denki glanced back at the scattered outfit in the floor again, trying to find any other excuse that wasn’t the one right in front of his eyes.

“Aren’t these Y/n’s clothes?”

Bakugou froze as Denki asked that question, feeling every cell in his body just scream at him to answer properly and not make it any more obvious. It didn’t help that they knew you two were dating either.

Your boyfriend’s mind was racing with a million things to say, but none of them were working. Everything he thought about saying failed before it even came out, his brain short circuiting as he tried to come up with an answer.

“Yeah…they are…” Kirishima said, speaking up for the first time with its that minute.

Denki looked up at the shirtless hothead, covering the rest of his indecent self but keeping it under the blankets. You had a nice view of his ass under there while you hid though. “Why are they on your floor?”

“Because…” Bakugou stopped a moment and cursed again before he finally said the dumbest thing he could think of. “…they were here earlier.”

Kirishima raised both his eyebrows at that, both him and Denki now looking at him with the same look of disbelief.

“Really?” Denki asked, clearly not buying the excuse, although he was still giving him the chance to dig himself out of the hole.

“…yeah.” Bakugou said, silently cursing himself again and praying they would just take the lie.

Unfortunately, Kirishima was far from stupid.

“Then why did they take their clothes off? And just leave them?” The shark boy asked, arms crossed.

Bakugou swore under his breath for the umpteenth time at that question, knowing there was no way to answer this that wouldn’t be extremely suspicious now. “…they took a shower…”

He said, the lie sounding just as terrible out loud as it did in his head. There was a moment of silence as Kirishima raised his eyebrow again. “Why would they come over in the middle of the day to take a shower and then ditch their clothes?”

Your boyfriend tensed up as he realized more and more that there was no hope in trying to lie about this situation.

“…Because.” He ever so genius-ly said.

Denki and Kirishima raised their eyebrows again, the answer sounding even more suspicious than before. They knew he was lying at this point, but it was so entertaining to watch him flounder around trying to cover up the truth.

After a moment, Denki broke the silence. “…and why are you shirtless?”

Bakugou wanted to strangle both of those dumbasses in the doorframe, silently cursing the fact that they had to pick this particular moment to come up here to bother him. “…Because I was hot.” He lied, knowing it was possibly the worst lie given these circumstances.

“It’s 66 degrees.”

“YOU TRY HAVING A QUIRK THAT GIVES YOU UNNATURALLY HOT BODY TEMPERATURES SHITTY HAIR!!”

Bakugou shouted again when Kirishima pointed out that it was, in fact, not hot enough to be warranting him to be shirtless. He was losing hope in trying to cover this up. He just couldn’t keep up the facade much longer.

“Okay, so you’re telling us that she came over, took a shower, left her clothes, and you’re in here shirtless, even though it’s not that hot out. You’re sure that’s right?” Denki asked with a raised eyebrow.

“….Yes.”

Bakugo’s eyes darted between Denki and Kirishima, a small voice in the back of his head begging them to just believe him so this would all be over, but a bigger part of him just knew they weren’t buying it one bit. They had him caught and they knew it.

After a moment, Denki spoke up. “Okay, so…prove it.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN PROVE IT?!”

Denki shrugged and gave a sly smirk.

“I don’t know, open the covers.”

“Hell no!!”

Kirshima decided to wedge in real quick before what got intense. “If you really-“

The red head was cut off as the familiar voice of your pink best friend was heard from the door over, saving you from this situation.

“Ejirou, are you coming back yet? I just found another toy we can use! This one vibrates~”

You all froze at Mina’s voice, coming from Kirishima’s dorm.

Knowing her, she had probably known you were going to be caught naked if this continued—by eavesdropping—and was helping you slightly.

But Oh how the tables have turned.

All three boys looked at the door as they heard Mina’s voice coming from it, their eyes wide as they realized that she was also up and possibly doing some frisky stuff in Kirishima’s room.

Neither one of them had expected her to say something so sus at that moment, and all three boys froze, their minds racing to try and figure out how to respond to this new development.

It ended up coming down to Denki and Bakugo turning to look at Kirishima with raised eyebrows.

Kirishima’s face was beet red as he turned to look at them both, his voice slightly shaky as he spoke. “I-It’s not what it looks-“

“Oh shut it shitty hair, and stop acting like you weren’t just trying to catch me when your doing the same thing.”

Denki nodded, arms crossed. “Yeah…hypocrite much?”

“Wait, you admit it!” Kirishima pointed to Bakugou as you giggled through the ball gag under the sheets. Your boyfriend gave them one warning look, a few sparks, and they were gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sorry there wasn’t much reader interaction! This one was just kinda suppose for be silly and make yall laugh. And like usual, it ain’t proofread

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #mha #my hero academia #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki

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graciedollie · 5 months ago

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hi hii, all the fanfics I read the reader was very feminine, but I was thinking about how cool it would be to do one where the reader is Ambessa's guard, and is muscular and big (but also very shy), Ambessa feels attracted and wants to see if the reader is good at other things besides fighting.....🙈

do it in your own time! ❤️‍🩹

Wandering Lamb

Pair: Ambessa Medarda x MuscularShy!Reader

Summary: You were one of Ambessa’s best soldiers, doing excellent in training and on the battlefield. She was oddly drawn to you, knowing you had much potential. Though, while doing your duties, you happen to stumble upon a sight you’d never forget. Curiosity killed the cat, as they say.

Warnings: Face-fucking, age difference (we love to see), fingering, just lex sesbian, praise(we definitely love to see it), Reader is Ambessa’s guard, AMBESSA HAS A BUSH (YES GOD), nothing too drastic or over the top 🎀

A/N: Hopefully this is to your liking babes <3 (i lowkey feel like my fics are going to shit cause of the decreased likes🧍🏾‍♀️)

The night hung high in the sky, casting over the land of Noxus with a thick hue of soft light. You were carefully stalking your way down the halls, panting slightly after a good day of training—well, intense. Training was, as usual, intense and sweat inducing, but you were good in training—hella good. Of course when you first started off, it was rocky as expected, but with time passing—you became one of Ambessa’s best soldiers. Sure her other soldiers did good, but you—you were a beast.

Though you were really skilled and powerful in combat, you were a shy little thing—balancing out your appearance with your personality. Body of a wolf, soul of a lamb. You were sweet and shy, but during battle—you were ruthless. As you spent your years of working your way up as a soldier, you became attracted to the one who pushed you along the way—Ambessa, Noxus fearless warlord. Now, she was absolutely stunning—nearly the beauty of a powerful goddess.

Unfortunately so, you didn’t want to seem out of order or unorthodox to have such feelings towards your higher up, which meant you had to push those feelings deep down and act normal when you were around her. Your mind was wandering with thoughts of her as you stalked your way down the long hallway, patrolling the halls as your usual duty when you weren’t fighting alongside her in battle, which was always a fine honor.

Keeping your eyes closely locked around your environments, it was until then that a noise from her bedroom caught you off guard—eliciting you to swiftly move and enter her room—weapon clutched in your hand.

“General. Are you ok?” Your voice was strained with concern and curiosity, furrowing your brows tightly as your quick feet moved across the marble floors before barging into the large bathroom as you didn’t find her in the bed.

There was no apparent danger, but the sight that was before you—damn near sinful. She laid soaking in the steaming tub, rich brown skin glowing in the dim light, and silver coils crowning her head. Her eyes glanced over with a disapproving gaze before a sly grin tugged at her red lips—nearly making you weak in the knees as her gaze on you was intense.

“And what may be the trouble of you rudely interrupting me, hm?” god that voice. You always loved that voice—whether she was calm and collected or either stern and scolding. It was something you never get tired of, always imagining the way her voice would flow through your ears with her fingers knee deep in yo—unfortunately, those thoughts weren’t to be welcomed.

“Uh—I apologize dearly, General. I…I thought I heard something and figured something was wrong—I’m sorry for interrupting..” Your voice was slightly strained with nerves, practically radiating around your built body, clasping the weapon tightly in your hand as your eyes met with hers before drifting lower, but quickly snapping to her eyes.

But she knew and she wanted you to look.

Ambessa took great pride in her body—the body she put in extensive work to earn. She tilted her head to the side while eyeing you intensely and shamelessly, humming in approval with the way you were built, but was shy as hell. It was honestly endearing to her and she knew that she needed you—and she knew you wanted the same.

“Come.” It wasn’t a request, it was an order—which you gladly followed as you swiftly stalked your way to the large bath, seeing just the way her breast were visibly in the calm waters and how the light scars adorned her beautiful brown skin—god you felt that you were in paradise. Her eyes peered into yours, sensing the nervousness in your eyes as she felt a small smirk tuh at her lips.

“As you know, you are one of my finest guards and best soldier, yes?” She raised a brow at you, expecting your answer quickly, which you quickly responded, “Yes! I am…I put great work and pride in my duties and training—just as you taught me, General.”

A hum of approval was heard from her at your choice of words, clearly liking the impression you were making. Her eyes stayed locked on yours fully before trailing down your body—taking in the way your muscles gleamed with leftover sweat from training.

“And what comes with that is an reward, yes?”

You were honesty ecstatic at her words, fighting the stupid grin that threatened to ghost over your lips. Your mind was racing with so many thing—maybe she’ll do this or that or this or that—with the possibilities being questionable. “Yes…”

“Excellent. I know just the reward for such a loyal, devoted woman you are…”

You just couldn’t wait for what she had in store for you <3

This was not what you were expecting…but you damn sure weren’t complaining.

Your clothes and weapon were completely abandoned to the side of the tub, leaving your body completely exposed to her lustful gaze and wandering eyes—taking in your toned built. You felt extremely shy as you were practically on a stand and her eyes observed your body intensely—catching the litter of scars adorning your skin.

She curled her finger in a ‘come here’ motion, which you quickly pushed through the water to get to her before her hands finally roamed all over your body, “Quite the view..”

“Oh…thank you, u-uh General..” You couldn’t help the nervous chuckle that climbed from its chamber, internally face-palming yourself for doing the stupid gesture, but that was quickly pushed aside as her lips finally found your neck and suckled at the skin. A low moan escaped your mouth as her velvety tongue trailed over the delicate skin, leaving bites and kisses in her trail.

This felt like totally paradise. This is what you’ve wanted for so long. Your eyes fluttered as she slowly leaned you back to have you lay back against edge of the tub, lips never leaving your neck while her large hand ventured under the water and between your toned thighs—sliding her thumb across your slit, earning a soft gasp.

“Ambessa—“

“General.” She quickly corrected you, pulling away from your neck to take in your expressions as her thumb rubbed slow, firm circles over your aching clit—smirking at the sight before her. “You’ve peaked my interest, dear. Such a strong, loyal, and trustworthy woman you are. I respect that…”

Your hips bucked up to her touch, causing little ripples of water to scatter. Her eyes peered into yours before you turned to look away, only to be met with her other hand gripping your chin firmly and forcing the intense eye contact. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

Her voice was firm and stern—the voice you loved hearing every time she spoke, god you needed her badly. You nodded quickly in compliance to her words, nodded eyes gazing into her peering ones—gasping as she slowly slipped a single finger in you with ease. Her fingers were thick, of course, but not this much. The way only one single finger felt, you were uncertain about adding another—three, at that matter.

“I-oh my gosh…General..” Your body was practically burning due to the stretch and with the sweet pleasure of her rubbing over your clit—slowly picking up the pace of her motions as she watched you intently.

You looked utterly breathtaking. Eyes were fluttering, struggling to keep eye contact. Mouth parted with gasp and low moans. Toned stomach flexing. Muscular thighs jerking with each pump of her finger and each flex of your sculptured arms as you slightly squirmed. “For a resilient woman, you are the shyest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on—how adorable.”

Your words were quickly spurring you on, moaning and grunting in response to her words—looking at her with a silent plea in your eyes, but that wouldn’t work with her. “Words or do you not want more? I’m sure you deserve an reward, no? It would be a shame if I had to take it away..”

“N-no! I…I need more…please.” Your voice was slightly shaky and strained, huffing slightly as you were worked up—already feeling yourself on the brink of combusting. She couldn’t help the smirk grazing over her lips, taking in the sight of your expressions as she added another finger—making you feel full.

“Oh…shitshitshit, General….please..”Your eyes were fluttering as they threatened to roll back, but you stayed strong as you knew she’d stop if you looked away—having this moment with her was a great honor, yes? Of course it was, with the way your pussy was gripping her fingers, enjoying this was an understatement.

“There we go…feels good to be rewarded, doesn’t it?” She hummed lowly against your lips, feeling your quicken gasps and whines as you quickly nodded, looking at her with hooded eyes, “Yes—y-yes…so good..”

“I know, I know…come for me, love..”

Her words were all the encouragement that you need, along with her thrusting her fingers quickly and steadily—earning a broken moan escaping your mouth as your thighs tensed up and jerked as the orgasm crashed over your body like a wave.

She was definitely going to enjoy a sweet thing such as yourself.

You felt you could die, but in a happy way, of course.

Here you were, face deep in the older woman’s thighs, trailing soft and delicate kisses along the toned, brown skin of her inner thighs as you were on your knees. She had her hand buried in your hair, making sure your eyes stayed locked on to hers—peering down at you with a lustful and appreciative gaze as she felt your warm lips against her thighs. “No need to be so shy, child…”

You could practically feel your body flare up with heat, besides the heat emitting from the warm water that engulfed you both. Your hooded eyes stayed locked up on hers with a desperate and needy gaze, feeling yourself getting more turned on as your hands came to rub her outer thighs and up to her ass—fondling with the soft, but firm muscle, earning an appreciative grunt as she flooded your head with praises.

“Such a good girl for me.”

“Just like that, mhm..”

“Such a pretty thing.”

“You’re so gentle. I’m not fragile, love.”

“You’re so good..”

With her words spurring you on, you felt your body buzzing with excitement to finally give her what you both wanted, no—needed. Your eyes peered up at her with a silent plead, earning a soft smile tugging at her lips. “You know what to do…”

She didn’t even have to say anything else before you spreaded her thighs further, lapping away at her folds as the grey patch of hair tickled your noses—not that you minded, of course. The taste of her was utterly savoring and addictive, only wanting to taste more of her sweet nectar as it dribbled down her thighs, your chin and your lips. Your hooded eyes peered up at you and you felt that you might just cum like this.

The way her head was titled back, lips parted with low moans and grunts, breast jerking with her slight movements and the way her hips bucked to your face. You felt her hand tightening up in your high, pulling you closer to her weeping cunt, which you happily lapped away as if you were a starved woman. It felt like such paradise between her thighs, the smell and taste driving you absolutely feral—wanting more of her.

“That’s it…right there..” Her words came out strained and husky, signaling that she was practically on the edge of cumming, but not quite—though your tongue moved expertly through and in her cunt. The grip on her ass tightened as you buried yourself deeper in her thighs, latching into her swollen clit as you sucked messily at the bundle of nerves—feeling her toned thighs start to temblor alongside your head as she tugged your hair.

A mix of a grunt and growl escaped her mouth as her fluttering eyes peered down at your hooded ones, seeing how you were completely drunk for her. Both of her hands grasped your hair tightly, holding you still as she started to grind firmly against the expert tongue and mouth—practically face-fucking you with her pussy, which you felt honor for her to do such. You might just die. Your eyes stayed locked onto hers, seeing the way they struggled to stayed focused on yours before her head finally tipped back—eliciting a groan from her sweet lips.

Your hands roamed up and down her thighs, rubbing over her ass here and there—feeling completely content, even though she was practically suffocating you with the way she squeezed the toned muscles around you. If you died, you’d die happy.

The heavenly grunts and low moans of the older woman bounced off the walls and echoed, causing a beautiful melody that replayed in your head (most likely gonna remember this to fuck yourself to later). It was such a blissful noise and her using like this was just as thrilling—feeling the aching feeling swarm between your thighs. A startled moan was muffled by her cunt as she gave your hair one final pull before she completely came apart.

Her thighs trembled, hips bucked, breast jerking with each heavy breath she took, head tilling back. It was as if you were being gifted by the higher powers—thanking them eternally for this. The grip on her thighs tightened as she completely covered your face with her release—squirting all over your pretty face before you hungrily lapped away at the mess.

She panted heavily as her head slowly looked back down at you, titling her head as she examined your disheveled face—smiling wickedly at the sight. Her hand left your hair to pull you up from your knees, looking at you with a sinful gaze before she licked the essence of her from your chin to your lips—capturing your lips in a heated, hungry kiss, earning a moan from you before she pulled away.

“Such a mess…”

hope you enjoyed dollies <3

#ambessa fanfic #ambessa x you #ambessa smut #ambessa x reader #arcane ambessa #ambessa medarda #ambessa #arcane league of legends #lex sesbian #older women <3 #general ambessa #graciedollie ᯓᡣ𐭩 #https://graciedollie #lesbian #gracieasks!!#wlw #arcane #wlw blog

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oppysbabydoll · 5 months ago

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ok, follow me. In Animated Optimus asks how babies are made and looks HELLA shocked after getting an answer. But what if, and hear me out, he's so mystified by how humans can just CREATE NEW LIFE, that he accidentally develops a breeding kink. When he lands an afab partner, even if he's pretty sure they can't make a sparkling together, he's so enamored by the idea that it just comes out one time in the middle of bedroom activities. >3>

anon… ily <3 while i don’t personally have a breeding kink, this is such a fun idea! honestly from a scientific standpoint, pregnancy is such a fascinating subject & i love learning about it <3 to have it be a kink is funny to me but sweet in a way. especially since pregnancy is far from easy. here’s what i have. i sincerely hope you enjoy :) i put a lot of effort into it

optimus prime (tfa) x reader: breeding kink (nsfw)

before we begin: as afab is a term reserved for intersex, i won’t be using it. plus, not everyone that has a vagina is necessarily going to be able to give birth either. infertility and other medical conditions are very much a thing. so for this ask, i’ll be avoiding referring to the reader’s gender. hope that’s okay!

since learning about HOW humans are born from sari, optimus is… fascinated. cybertronians rarely have sparklings—or kids, as humans call it. how transformers are born changes from iteration from iteration, but based on optimus’ question, we can assume fragging does NOT lead to kids

yet despite this, whenever he’s doing you or vise versa, his mind tends to wander. thinking, yearning, hoping. and he gets so so excited at the prospect, of giving birth, that his horns honk. typically, you write it off as him being aroused during sex but when optimus lets the phrase, “impregnate me,” that gave you pause, stopping your thrusts, he lets out a whine, needy. you don’t continue

“w—why did you stop?” optimus’ engines let out a groan. ‘i want more’ is left unsaid. and normally, you’d indulge him. but your mind is too wrapped up in what he said that you have to ask—

“did you just say you want to be pregnant?”

he stops, engines spluttering off. despite all the fluids surrounding his spike, his modesty panels closes shut. he gapes at you, clearly caught off guard. “i—well—er,”he starts. he keeps on making noises, his engine starting but failing to fully be on. “uhm,” he continues. you touch his dorsal amour for a moment. it’s ridiculously warm; you had to pull away before it burns. “uh…” he says intelligently. god.

“optimus,” you start. immediately, he looks at you, still gaping. you need to kiss his mouth shut. “are…” you bit your lips, unable to find a better way to phrase the next sentence out of our mouth, “are you aroused from wanting to be pregnant?”

if optimus was red before, he’s practically lava colored now. he doesn’t respond, too embarrassed to say a word. but his silence is an answer in it of itself. you resists the urge to smirk, instead inching closer. you give a smile, smoothing it to hide your amusement. “i don’t think i can actually impregnate you but…” you lean in. “i can do you till you feel you are.”

he sucks in his breath. shivers in anticipation. “okay,” he says breathlessly. he looks at you eagerly, desperately, for your touch. “okay. works with me.”

you fuck him senseless, filling him with false spikes so it feels like he’s carrying. he looks so aroused when pretending to be impregnated then you can’t help but moan at the display. the two of you are having the time of your lives. you don’t ever impregnate him that way but when you and him ask ratchet and other researchers for scientific procedures to create a baby… let’s just say optimus ends up carrying <3 either way, you’re glad that you discovered a fun kink between you two. optimus may want more though hehe

#asks #transformers x reader #transformers x human #valveplug #anon #transformers #tf animated #tfa optimus prime #tfa #optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #/nsfw #/nsfw text #optimus prime x human #human x transformer

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currentlyinflames · 4 months ago

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What we have to do to survive - Sylus x gn!Reader

word count: 2.5k

Summary: Sylus comes home after a day of hunting Praedators and you see something off...

cw: violence, injury, mentions of blood, guns, reader is protective almost to an unhealthy level, theres like one suggestive sentence

a/n: written for the new event. I skipped over the patching up scene a lot im sorry im hella squeamish. this man has captivated all my senses so i must bite and write him. this is also my first fic to exceed a thousand words.

Enjoy :D

- - -

You heard the glass door creak as Sylus crept back into your home.

You never heard him walk in when you first met him but Sylus had since dropped his guard around you. Something about a “little kitten” not being a threat. You showed him just how much of a threat you could be later that night.

You lifted your head from where it was buried in your book, not taking your eyes off it.

“Got a moment kitten?” His deep voice called out to you.

“Mhm, lemme finish this chapter,” You said, still deeply engrossed in your book.

Sylus chuckled. “You’re not going to step away till you finish the whole book, right sweetie?” There was something held back in his voice, but you didn’t think too much of it.

He came over to where you were curled up on the couch, standing behind the backrest to kiss you on the cheek.

You turned your head, catching his lips. “Welcome home.”

You both separated after a long moment when you caught him holding his side. You quickly got up and went around to him, scanning for any other injuries.

“What happened? Why didn’t you say anything??” You gingerly touched the hand over the wound, he winced and you quickly pulled your hand away, keeping it hovering nearby.

“I’m alright, kitten. It’s just a scratch.” Sylus tried to console you.

You clicked your tongue, worry evident on your face. “You’d say that even if you were bleeding out.”

He cupped your cheek with his free hand, forcing you to look into his eyes. He smiled softly, his crimson eyes holding your gaze, silently comforting you.

That didn’t ease your worry as you gripped his arm, getting ready to guide him toward the bathroom with your first aid supplies. You took a breath. Panic would not help anyone right now.

Sylus stood firm, preventing you from taking him anywhere. “I’m serious, kitten. I’ll be alright.”

“Not if I don’t take a look. Now come with me or sit down.”

Sylus chuckled, then winced. “You’re the boss.”

Your hand slid from his forearm to his free hand, gently guiding him to the cabinet with the first aid kit.

You made him sit on top of the counter, keeping his injury in front of you, feeling his eyes on you as you pulled out the supplies.

You didn’t meet his gaze as you started working. “Now, are you gonna tell me what happened or do I need to coax it out of one of your associates.”

“No need to murder on my behalf, sweetie. It was just an incident with a Praedator, nothing too bad.”

“But no Praedator has been strong enough to hurt you before. Are they getting stronger or are you losing your touch, honey?” You attempted to lighten the mood with your teasing but Sylus seemed pensive because of your words.

“You’re aware of Praedator testing with frenzy enhancers, right?”

Your brow furrowed. “Where are you going with this?”

“You know I have enemies kitten, some of them have it out for me more than others. One of them happens to be in possession of black market frenzy enhancers.”

“So the Praedator was sent to hunt you. And found you.”

“They obviously didn’t succeed but they’re still a threat. I want you to keep a weapon on you at all times. Preferably one that I constructed myself with…special anti-Praedator features.”

“You mean a gun with a taser and Praedator suppressant laced bullets-”

“-And a second gun with normal bullets. You know me so well my dear. They’re in the top drawer of my nightstand along with my glasses, the hot ones- you know which ones.”

You finished up the final bandages and went to put the supplies away when Sylus stopped you. “Aren’t you forgetting something sweetie?”

“I…don’t think so?”

He pointed to his lips. “A get-well kiss. Won’t that speed up the healing process.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Oh my sweet, needy man.”

You reached up to cup his face, one hand on his cheek and the other wrapped around his neck. Your lips slotted against each other perfectly, like they were made to match. His arm wound around your waist, finding its home in the small of your back.

You kissed him passionately, savouring the moment. And already thinking of you next move.

- - -

You had given Sylus a sleeping pill. A mild one to give you about 3 hours to track down the Praedator and the bastard that dared to target Sylus.

You snuck over to his phone where he received all his missions and entered the password (“LitTlefeAtHer78%67><) to look up the details of his last job.

Location: Southern District; near the Old Museum.

Target: B-Class Praedator

The difficulty had obviously been fabricated. You’d fought B-Rank Praedators yourself and none of them were near Sylus’ skill level.

The Museum was near where you and Sylus met as you saw him fight for the first time. He was injured then too but those were only a few scratches. Not a planned attack.

You then scanned the page for any hint as to who might have sent the job. And there it was at the top: Ever. An odd codename but still a lead regardless.

You looked over to see him sleeping peacefully in your bed. You never thought of yourself as vengeful but Sylus had changed you in many ways since you met him.

You crept over to the bed and opened the nightstand drawer to pull out the guns he wanted you to have. It was fitting that you were using them on your first “official” job for him.

The weight was unfamiliar yet balanced in your hands and you quickly tucked them into your holsters, eager to use them.

You crept out of the room and through the same back door Sylus snuck in through just an hour ago.

“I’ll be back baby,” you whispered as you looked back one last time before you left.

Sneaking out with Sylus’ keen senses would have been the hard part of your journey if not for the sleeping pill. Now the obstacle was the time crutch and actually tracking your target from the Museum.

If you assumed that Sylus had eliminated the treat before leaving the area, that would reduce the chances of you tracking your prey easily. You didn’t want to think that injury made Sylus sloppy but at the moment that was your best bet.

You entered the museum on high alert, tensing as you hear a noise. A series of thumps followed.

Slowly, you inched toward the sound, guns in hand, ready to strike at anything there. You hid behind a corner, peeking out to gauge what was there.

A Praedator was chained to the wall, clearly a weaker type with how it struggled in short bursts, then gave up.

So the B-Rank Praedator did exist, you realised. But another one was sent too.

You stepped out from behind the corner, pistols aimed at the Praedator. It snarled back.

“What happened here? Who sent you?”

“I don’t work for anyone,” it hissed. “Some weird shirtless man chained me up here after killing another .”

“And what was the other Praedator like?”

“Stronger than the man, almost got a bite on him. Wearing a collar like a little pet too.”

You were getting closer to the answers you wanted. “Did anyone come here after that?”

“And what will helping you get me?” It sneered.

“A quick and-relatively- painless death,” you said, raising your chin. “Or I can leave you here and signal some other large, higher ranked Praedator to finish the job. Maybe get some frenzy enhancers as well to really make it interesting.”

To emphasise your point, you examined one of your guns and aimed it at its left hand, firing a warning shot but having it land in the space next to its upper arm.

“You won’t actually shoot,” It growled.

“Try me.” You aimed again, this time at its chest with the electrically charged bullets. You pulled the trigger.

The bullet didn’t pierce the skin but settled on top, making the Praedator jolt from the electrical shock.

“Ok- the Praedator was branded- there’s a research facility 3 buildings down- it came from there- that’s all I know I swear-“

The jolts began to slowly stop. You cocked your gun, aiming straight at its chest. “Thank you for your service.”

You fired.

- - -

Most buildings in the Southern District were abandoned, meaning there was minimal security in even the previously most important buildings.

There was nothing stopping you from casually strolling into the facility after shooting the security guard. But you decided to sneak in just in case there were other security measures taken.

You found an open window on the ground floor and at an easy enough height to crawl through. You landed on dirtied white floors and pulled out your pistols.

You began walking through the hallway you stumbled into when you heard voices coming from ahead.

You ducked into the nearest open room, rushing to hide from whoever was coming.

The voices came closer as you scanned the room, quickly looking for somewhere to hide if they tried to come in.

The room was compact, with a large cage in the middle. There were screens on the wall that might have been used to track the vitals of the Praedator within the cage but now it was abandoned.

The voices reached a crescendo outside the room and you held your breath, your finger hovering over the trigger in case you had to make a quick escape. Then you heard the footsteps resume and the voices faded away.

You paused for a moment, then peeked out of the room. Two men were still standing outside your room, seemingly waiting for something. One was wearing a lab coat and the other a suit. Then the man in the lab coat whispered something to the man in the suit. You could only make out a few words: lab, target and Ever.

That’s when you caught sight of the suited man’s id badge. It was pinned to his suit jacket and was spelled in small but clear letters: EVER.

You had found your target. And you would make him pay.

You had nothing against the scientist other than the fact that he might be a possible witness. You quickly looked around for a distraction. The monitors in your hiding spot were all turned off but they might be connected to another system or alarm.

You crept over to the nearest one that was hidden from the door and held down the on button. It took a moment, but slowly flickered on.

The lab must have been abandoned for quite some time because the monitors made use of old technology that primarily detected whether the cage was open or not.

It indicated that all was well because the cage lock was engaged. But with just the right aim….

You pulled out your normal gun and pointed it at the ancient lock, then fired.

The bullet struck the latch perfectly. And then the alarms went off.

The blaring noise made you flinch, then grip your guns harder as you prepared to face Ever.

The first scientist came in, the one that was just talking to Ever outside. He frantically looked around but before he could catch you, you smacked him upside the head with your pistol.

Then came the man you were truly waiting for. He ran into the room and you triggered the mechanism that would shut the door.

“Hello Ever,” You smiled, twirling one of your guns. “I’ve been looking for you.”

He was still reeling from the shock of the alarm. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Who I am isn’t important. What matters to me is that you tried to harm Sylus, and I don’t take too kindly to that.”

“What could I possibly have to do with that criminal?”

“He’s a threat to you isn’t he? Unpredictable, cunning, skilled. If he decides that you’re his next target, there’s nothing stopping him.”

“He has no reason to target me. He was simply a bug that had to be crushed.”

A warning shot rang out.

Ever flinched.

“I know about the frenzy enhancers. I know how you faked the mission debrief to catch Sylus alone and off guard. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t target you the same way.”

Ever eyed your gun, then met your steely gaze. “My empire will come after you. They’ll never stop.”

You tilted your head, raising your gun to his chest. “But what is a body without its head.” Then you fired.

It was a shame you couldn’t draw this out longer, but alas you had a time constraint.

After making sure the bullet had done its job, you triggered the door mechanism again and went back to where you previously hid.

You watched the panicked scientists rush in and used the chaos to sneak out.

Your job was done, and it was time to head home.

- -

You broke back into your home using the back door you used to get out.

You quietly stepped into your closet, changed into comfortable clothes, and tip-toed into the bedroom to lie next to Sylus before he woke up.

Slowly, you crawled into bed and lay down facing him, cuddling close to bury your face into his chest.

“Had a nice trip kitten?” His voice came from above you.

“Shut up I’m tired,” You murmured. “When did you wake up anyway, that pill was strong.”

“You forget I’ve trained myself against poisons, a little melatonin does nothing. But I’m sure you’ll pass out pretty quick after the field trip you’ve had tonight. Hunting down one of my worst foes? You’re a feisty one aren’t you?”

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” you mumbled into his chest. “And you kill for your job without any hesitation, why shouldn’t I do the same for you?”

“Well that’s just what I have to do to survive in this world darling,” Sylus said. “You have a choice.”

“What we have to do,” You amended. “We’re in this together, whether you like it or not.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t know you’d go to such lengths for me kitten.”

You look up and hold his gaze, unwavering. “I would do anything for you.”

Sylus wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer, his warm breath against your ear as he kissed your temple. “It’s both cute and incredibly hot how you fight for my honour sweetie.”

You smiled, burying your face back into his muscular pecs. “All for you darling.”

A moment of silence passed with both of you basking in each others’ presence. Then-

“And I must say kitten, this was probably one of the best Valentines Day presents you could’ve given me today.”

#lads #love and deepspace #lads sylus #sylus #sylus x reader #my writing

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callmeagardengnome · 10 months ago

Text

˚ʚ sore thumb ɞ˚ | CHOI SAN

pairings ᯓ idol!san x boxer! fem!reader

genre ᯓ soulmate au, one-shot

synopsis ᯓ tied by emotions and injuries, you and your soulmate have been through quite a roller coaster - especially when he can feel each and every punch you receive.

c.w ᯓ SLIGHTLYY angsty but it does have hella fluff. also this is during the BOUNCY era!

w.c ᯓ 2.6k

author’s note: sorry for the kinda late upload! took me a while to write this.. also ignore the weird ass timeline, this story is definitely not really true to the actual irl events

not proofread!

masterlist

you’ve always known that boxing was your calling. the thrill of getting in the ring, the sounds of gloves hitting the bag - the adrenaline that you got from the sport was.. addictive.

from the moment you stepped into the gym, you were hooked. while you weren’t that good at first, you continued to work day and night, training and perfecting your technique.

fortunately enough, you managed to climb the ranks. you became a pretty big name in the boxing world. people loved watching your matches, not just calling you a boxer, but an entertainer.

san, on the other hand, experienced your matches in a different way.

for years, san had been dealing with the sensation of getting punched in the face, or if it wasn’t that, his fists were the ones feeling the damage. not only that, he was completely oblivious to you and your job.

the both of you found out about your soulmarks early in life. frankly, it was pretty obvious. you started to feel emotions that weren’t your own and had sudden bursts of pain that came without warning. when your parents brought you to various specialists, all their answers were the same - it was a soulmark.

while san felt happy that he had an easy-to-spot soulmark, he couldn’t help but feel.. annoyed.

he often found himself wincing during rehearsals, clutching his sides as phantom pains shot through his body. san had been reasonably concerned and confused when the punches first started. there would be days when mysterious bruises would appear out of nowhere or where he would feel the sudden urge to dodge an unseen pinch flying towards him.

this led to san wondering - what were you doing? why were you getting into fights so often? were you a criminal? or could it be martial arts?

san eventually came to the conclusion that you were in some form of combat sport. after all, the punches that you received seemed controlled, and the bruises that you got were repetitive.

“again?” san would mutter under his breath, rubbing his sore ribs. this would happen almost every day, each time feeling as though it was happening to you for the first time.

though, sometimes, he would roll his eyes, somewhat amused, as if he was speaking to someone directly. “really? you couldn’t dodge that one?” he said, shaking his head with a smile.

as time passed, san found himself growing more attached to you. though he didn’t know who you were, he felt your emotions. he felt the anxiety you felt before every match and the rush of victory you experienced after a successful fight. he became oddly protective of you, even if he didn’t know why.

unfortunately, everything changed when you trained for an upcoming championship match. you were having a pretty intense training session, pushing yourself harder than before. as you landed a powerful punch on the punch bag, you felt a sharp pain shooting through your hand, making you drop to your knees.

“shit- what did i just do..?” you mumbled to yourself, staring at your twisted hand in shock. the pain was unbearable and overwhelming, throbbing in waves and spreading up your arm. the realisation hit you - something was wrong. not only for you, but your soulmate.

at the very moment, san felt the pain explode in his own hand. he was in the middle of rehearsal, practicing the choreography for ATEEZ’s new comeback. the sudden pain caught him off guard, making him shout in surprise.

“woah, what happened?” hongjoong rushed over immediately, his face laced with concern.

“i don’t know, hyung-“ san winced, his hand shaking. “my hand feels like its broken.. i- i can barely move it.” the other members gathered around him, completely stopping their rehearsal.

“san, that looks pretty bad. do we need to get you to the hospital?” seonghwa asked, kneeling beside him.

san shook his head, trying to catch his breath. “i think i’m fine.. just give me a moment.”

he was far from fine. the pain felt too real, too intense. you must have really injured yourself - badly. his mind started to race with worry. what happened? why did this feel 10x more painful than anything he’s ever felt? and most importantly, were you okay?

“come on san, we should at least get it checked,” wooyoung insisted, helping him to his feet.

meanwhile, you rushed to the hospital, cradling your injured hand. the both of you were left with the same diagnosis - a broken hand.

for you, it was devastating news. boxing was your life, your soul. putting in on pause meant that your whole life was on pause. the injury meant months of recovery and falling behind in the sport you love.

you also felt extremely guilty. not only did you cause yourself pain, your soulmate was definitely experiencing the consequences of your actions.

“great,” you sighed, running your fingers through your hair. “i just injured two people.”

despite your friends and trainers trying their best to support you, you couldn’t shake off the sadness you felt. what you hated though, was the fact that your soulmate could feel the range of emotions your were experiencing.

“why am i so careless,” you thought to yourself as you lay in your bed. “he must think i’m a mess.”

while he didn’t think you were a mess, san was struggling with the new injury. with the new comeback approaching, he needed to change the way he danced, finding ways to work around his broken hand.

sure, it was a inconvenience, but all san could think about was you. during this period of time, he constantly felt waves of sadness crashing over him. san could feel how guilty and depressed you were over your hand. the only thing that made it worse was that san could do nothing to help you.

san desperately wanted to reassure you, tell you that he’s fine and that you shouldn’t worry about him. but since neither of you knew one another, all he could do was imagine what he would say if he could reach you.

“whoever you are,” he whispered to himself. “don’t be too hard on yourself. we’re in this together.”

˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆˚ʚɞ ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

a few months go by and you eventually recover from your injury. you started to slowly ease back into boxing again, regaining the spark that you temporarily lost in your life.

KQ soon decided to postpone the comeback to a further date, wanting san to have a speedy recovery. the pain eventually subsided, allowing ATEEZ to continue with their promotional activities for the comeback.

with the group entering the ‘BOUNCY’ era, KQ wanted san and wooyoung to watch some boxing matches to try and get a realistic shot for their music video.

the two men sat at their dorm’s living room couch, scrolling through the different videos on their tv.

“which one should we watch..” wooyoung said, clicking the remote controller. “ooh.. how about this one? it’s live streaming right now.”

san shrugged, not really caring on what’s on the screen. his mind was elsewhere, thinking about the recent preparations for the comeback. he was about to reach for his phone when he suddenly heard the commentator’s voice booming through the tv speakers.

“and now, stepping into the ring, the undefeated boxer making her much awaited comeback after a hiatus - ‘____’!”

san froze mid-reach, but it wasn’t your name that caught his attention - it was the sudden surge of energy and adrenaline coursing through his veins. it was a familiar feeling that he felt all those times whenever you were in the ring.

wooyoung noticed san’s focus on the screen, giving him a look. “hey, you okay?”

san nodded, his eyes glued to the tv as he watched you step into ring. “yeah, i’m fine. i just feel like i should watch this match.”

you stood in the center of the ring, hearing the crowd cheering your name. it felt surreal to be back, reclaiming your place in the boxing world.

when the match began, you moved with precision, every punch given with the techniques that made you a popular boxer in the first place. the first few rounds were intense, with neither you or your opponent giving in. you wanted to show the world and your soulmate that you were no longer held back by your injury.

as san watched the match unfold, he felt every jab, every dodge, every emotion that you were feeling. it was as if he was in the ring with you, experiencing the fight through your eyes.

and then it happened - the moment that confirmed san’s questions. you landed a strong uppercut on your opponent, making her fall back. the crowd erupted with applause and san felt an immense pride that wasn’t his own.

he realised then, that you were his soulmate.

san took a deep breath, facing wooyoung in surprise. “i think.. i just found my soulmate.”

wooyoung’s eyes widened. “what? you mean-“

“yeah,” san said, leaning back into the couch. “it’s her. i can feel it. i’ve been feeling it the whole time.”

˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆˚ʚɞ ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

the fight ended with your victory, with various sponsors and offers reaching out to you afterwards. while you appreciated it, you felt that maybe it was a good idea to take a few breaks from boxing every now and then.

one day, your manager told you about an interesting offer. a company called ‘KQ Entertainment’ reached out to you, wanting you to help choreograph a fight scene for their music video.

“why me?” you asked, genuinely curious. “i’m a boxer, not a choreographer.”

your manager shrugged, a smile appearing on her lips. “they mentioned wanting authenticity and your name came up. they said that the scene could benefit from your expertise.”

you paused, taking in the proposal. the idea of working with a k-pop group intrigued you. it was something different from your normal routine. a break from boxing didn’t mean that you had to step away from it completely. you finally made up your mind, accepting the deal.

˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆˚ʚɞ ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

“wait, what?” san exclaimed, getting up from his chair.

“yeah, your soulmate’s going to teach us some boxing moves,” hongjoong said with a grin.

san began panicking, not expecting to meet you so soon. he didn’t expect his company to reach out to professional boxers, let alone you, to help choreograph the scene. he eventually calmed himself down, preparing himself on what to do when he finally meets you.

the day of meeting ATEEZ arrived and you found yourself entering the lively building. you were introduced to the staff and the directors, who eventually led you to the studio where ATEEZ were. while you have heard of them before, you didn’t know what to expect, feeling slightly nervous.

the both of you started to feel anxious, both just from your own emotions, but from each others. when you entered the studio, san couldn’t even believe that you were real.

as more introductions went around, one of the members caught your eye.

“hi, i’m san,” he chuckled nervously, extending his hand.

the moment you shook his hand, you felt an intense wave of emotions that wasn’t yours. it was as if the world paused for a moment, allowing the two of you feel each other’s feelings.

san, too, seemed taken aback. his eyes widened slightly as his hand started to shiver in shock.

“it’s nice to meet you,” you managed to say, trying to keep your composure. after all, you didn’t want to seem unprofessional in front of celebrities.

“likewise..” san muttered, his grip lingering longer than necessary. “i’m really looking forward to working with you.”

“booo just kiss already,” wooyoung shouted playfully.

you raised an eyebrow, looking between san and wooyoung.

“sorry about that, he loves to make things awkward,” san said, turning to you with an nervous smile.

the both of you stared at each other for a moment, unable to take your eyes off each other. there was something about him that made it difficult for you to look away.

you laughed, ignoring the blush rising up your cheeks. “it’s all good.”

˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆˚ʚɞ ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

the rehearsal for the scene went by quickly, with san and the other ATEEZ members eager to learn the different moves.

“san, try to keep your guard up here,” you instructed, demonstrating the move. when you reached over to adjust his arms, you felt the same wave of emotion crashing down on you once again. was this a coincidence?

you eventually let them do their own thing, wanting them to try out the moves without guidance. yet, there was still something at the back of your mind - the weird feeling between you and san. it was unlike anything you’ve felt, almost as if it was.. meant to be.

as you started to think about the implications, you thought of an idea. sure, it was a little silly, but it would confirm your suspicions of san being your soulmate.

you decided to bite your tongue, slightly harder than needed, seeing if you could get a reaction out of san. as expected, he yelled out an ‘ow!’, looking at you briefly before quickly returning back to practicing.

that was it - he was your soulmate.

you waited for the rehearsal to be over, walking over to where san was. he turned as you approached, his eyes lighting up with an excitement that made your heart skip a beat.

“hey-“ “hi-“ you both said at the same time, sharing a small laugh.

“thanks for helping us today, we really appreciate it,” san smiled.

“of course, no problem,” you said nervously, trying to cover the flustered state you were in. no matter what though, san definitely knew how you felt in that moment.

you took a deep breath, gathering the courage to speak. “can we talk..?”

san’s eyes softened, looking around for places to talk at. “absolutely, let’s go somewhere quieter.”

he led you to a quiet corner of the studio, away from the hectic noises of the building. san leaned against the wall, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought about the right words. “i think i know what you’re going to say,” he began. “you felt that earlier too right? that whole emotions thing?”

“yeah..” you nodded. “are you thinking what i’m thinking..?”

san smiled, his gaze holding yours. “i think we’re soulmates.”

hearing him say those words filled you with joy you didn’t expect to have. it was one thing to suspect him of being your soulmate, but it was another thing to have him actually confirm it.

“i’ve known for a while,” san admitted, scratching his head. “but i didn’t say anything at first, i didn’t want to scare you away.”

“well, i’m glad you told me,” you chuckled.

his smile grew, “and i’m glad you understand.”

standing there, you felt a peace wash over you. the bond you shared was no longer an unspoken part of your lives, but a truth.

“so what happens now?” you asked.

“i’d like to get to know you better,” he replied, leaning closer to you.

his words were sincere, making you feel flattered that someone like him wanted to know you, or even spend time with you.

“i’d like that too,” you said, a smile spreading on your face.

san leaned even closer to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “i think we have a lot to learn about each other..” he said trailing off.

“mhm,” you agreed, grabbing the collar of his shirt. you pulled him in for a gentle kiss, which he gladly reciprocated more fiercely. the both of you could feel each other’s emotions, even the sounds of your heart beating.

the both of you pulled away, laughing, feeling weak and giddy from the kiss. “we’re going to have so much fun together,” he smiled, whispering it into your ear.

any and all feedback appreciated <3

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