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purinfelix · 3 days ago

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you're no good for me, but baby i want you - n. riki ✶⋆.˚

summary: after growing tired of his constant teasing you made up your mind not to give Niki anymore of your attention, but you should've known that he wouldn't let you go that easily - and is willing to go to desperate measures to get you just to look at him ──── delinquent Niki x class president reader || sfw but a little suggestive, kissing/making out, so much tension like so much, enemies to lovers sorta? || w/c: 2.7k

a/n: okay i'm trying to get better at writing longer fics/ones that actually have closure bc looking back i realise i kinda always leave u guys on cliffhangers LOLL - also i rlly tried to avoid making this too cliche given the trope i hope it worked !!! actually really like this one so i hope it doesn't flop rip

‘Bad boy’ felt too cliche - at least for your liking. You preferred to refer to Niki as what he was, a delinquent, a troublemaker, someone who skipped most of his classes and spent the rest dosing off or arguing with the teacher. But no matter what you called him you were sure of one thing, he pissed you off.

To be honest, you had absolutely no interest in the sorts of things a student like him got up to in his own time, but it was the fact that he insisted on dragging you into his business that irritated you the most. You weren’t sure why exactly he kept targeting you, maybe it was because he just wanted to mess with the class president or because you seemed like an easy target to him - whatever reason he had didn’t make it any less tiring though.

Skipping classes was one thing, but his constant breaches of uniform code meant that you were running out of warning slips - and patience. It didn’t help that whenever you did, he would only look you up and down with an amused smirk, brows raised as if daring you to continue telling him off - which only worked to make you stumble over your words.

That’s why you had made the decision to stop giving him anymore of your attention, and the most recent time you had seen him sporting his signature look - no blazer, dress shirt half unbuttoned and several silver earrings, you chose to ignore him. You simply walked past him in the hallway without so much as a passing glance, hoping it would tell him to stop wasting your time and causing trouble.

Little did you know, he would misinterpret your signs to mean the exact opposite.

The next morning when you were waiting at your desk you heard a wave of hushed murmurs coming from down the hall, and couldn’t help but feel partly responsible. A loud thud sent the classroom door flying open and a couple of his friends filed in with amused grins - and it was only when Niki followed them in did you see why. Not only had he gone and messily bleached parts of his jet black hair, but he now donned a piercing straight through his right eyebrow which, judging from the pink tinge surrounding it, was both brand new and self-made.

You were unable to stop your neck from craning as your eyes followed his figure, watching as he sauntered over to his desk in the back corner of the classroom, threw his books onto it and sat down. The expression on his face showed that he couldn’t care less about being there, but his eyes trained on you as if waiting for you to make a move.

You hated that he knew you so well, because before you knew it you were out of your seat and at the head of his desk, arms folded with a stern expression on your face. You can’t remember exactly what you said but it must’ve been harsh, and loud enough to summon the attention of almost the entire class, and your teacher who stormed into the classroom shortly after to tell the two of you off. It must’ve also been harsh enough to earn the two of you an after-school detention, which was your very first - though it clearly wasn’t Niki’s.

So that’s how the two of you had ended up alone, in an empty, hot classroom - waiting as the minutes of your detention ticked by agonisingly slowly. Irritated was an understatement. It was taking every ounce of self-control you had not to turn around and punch Niki right there and then. You kept your fuming to yourself, at least for now though, while you worked silently on an assignment, determined to at least make good use of being stuck here for the next hour or so - even if it meant spending it in a tense silence.

Niki didn’t seem to share the same sentiment, having sat himself in the chair right beside yours and kicked his feet up on the desk, twirling a pen in one hand as he hummed softly to himself. You were trying your best to ignore him, and he was trying his best to make that very difficult.

“What are you working on?” he asked curiously as he leaned in over your shoulder.

“Just an assignment,” you shot back curtly.

“Ah of course, what a goody-two shoes,” he scoffed as he sat back.

“Rather a goody-two shoes than a good-for-nothing delinquent,” you mumbled under your breath, though not quiet enough to escape his ears.

“A delinquent? Is that really what you think of me?” he asked in faux-offence, “I’m hurt.” You turned slightly, just enough to see the dramatic pout he had formed across his lips, his brows curving upwards and his piercing going with it.

“Whatever,” you huff, feeling both irritation and exhaustion rise in you, “it’s your fault we’re here in the first place anyways.”

“Oh yeah, my fault that you started a petty argument.”

“Your fault for dyeing your hair that stupid colour and getting that piece of metal jammed in your face!” You cry out, fully facing him now as you felt your face burning hot, “I mean seriously, all I did was ignore you once, and you go ahead and did something ridiculous like that?” Gesturing to his piercing and new hair, you can’t help but feel even more infuriated at the sight of his smirk which only grew as he watched you from half-lidded eyes.

“What makes you think I did it for you?” He asks teasingly, and you suddenly feel your bravado begin to crumble - he’s right, who are you to assume that?

“Well, I-” you stutter, but he interrupts you.

“Well maybe I did,” he laughs softly, “that depends on whether you like it or not.”

“That is so besides the point, Niki,” you whine, “it’s against uniform policy.”

“Oh c’mon, you think it’s a little cool,” he taunts, and you turn back around in your seat, chewing your bottom lip as you’re determined not to give him a response which you’re sure will only fuel his ego.

You sit in silence for a bit, and you can tell he’s watching you carefully in the way he leans in, keen eyes trained on your expression - almost as if he’s trying to figure out what you’re thinking. But that’s a challenge even you’re struggling with right now.

He’s the one to break the silence again. “I am sorry about getting you a detention though, that wasn’t what I meant to do.” You blink in disbelief because for the very first time, he sounds almost as if he really means what he’s saying.

“Is that an apology?” you say, gasping to show your surprise, though this quickly dissolved into a soft laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let it get to your head,” he sighs, “I just couldn’t sit here and watch you sulk for the next hour.”

You can’t help but smile to yourself, feeling the tension between the two of you melt away at his apology, just enough for you to want to keep talking to him - even if it means neglecting your homework, for now. Your eyes move over his face, his sharp jaw, his eyebrow piercing glinting under the warm classroom light.

“Did it hurt?”

It’s a stupid question, you know, but it’s the only thing you can think to ask as you fiddle nervously in your seat. If you’re being completely honest, you do think it’s cool, you’ve always thought his piercing were cool - and right now you want nothing more than to reach out and feel them for yourself. But your common sense stops you.

“Well, duh,” he scoffs, sitting back in his seat as his eyes fix on yours, “figured a smart-ass like you would’ve been able to guess that.”

“Just asking,” you grumble defensively, though your curiosity urges you to keep talking. “If it hurt, why’d you do it?”

“Well, you like it, don’t you?” He asks, “that’s all the reason I need.”

You’re tempted to tell him off again, but something about his tone catches you off guard - it’s oddly earnest, and he says it with such a simplicity that makes you really believe that maybe he’s telling the truth and you’re unable to find the resolve to spoil this moment

“Can I feel it?”

He’s almost as shocked by your request as you are, and even as it leaves your mouth you’re unsure entirely why you’re asking it. His eyes widen in a way that you can’t help but find a little cute, even as you’re struggling to process your own thoughts.

“Sure,” he replies, a little too quickly, almost as if he had been waiting for you to ask him that, but can’t believe you actually did. You turn in your chair to face him, your arms coming up awkwardly to bridge the distance between you both but it’s clear you’re still too far.

You’re about to lean forward more in your seat to reach him, until you notice his hand coming down to grip the leg of your chair and it isn’t until you feel yourself moving and hear the faint screech of the legs against the floor that you realise that he’s pulling it - pulling you closer to him.

Once you’re close enough he stops, though his hand doesn’t leave the back of your chair, instead resting there as if trapping you in with him as he leans down as that his face is level with yours. You try not to overthink the way your knees are touching, or how this is your first time seeing him this close and how he’s even better looking up close. Carefully, you bring your hand and pray that he doesn’t notice the way it trembles, as your thumb grazes his thick brow gently. Even though you wish he didn’t, he keeps his eyes open and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you as your fingers close around the small metal ball.

“It’s cold,” you mumble, not sure what else to say to fill the air between you two.

“It’s metal,” he says matter-of-factly, letting out a small laugh at your fascination with it.

“You didn’t need to to do this just to get my attention, you know,” your eyes focus on the piercing as you speak, unable to look him in the eyes when admitting something that feels like a confession.

“I had to get you to look at me somehow.” You’re again amazed at how he can say such earnest things with such a serious face, and even as you look away you know his eyes are on you.

“Most people would’ve just said hi or something, not put a brand new hole in their face,” you sigh, fingers moving to tuck a stray strand of bleached hair behind his ear.

“Well most people wouldn’t be here now with you touching their face, so by my standards my plan worked better.”

“Did that plan have to include getting me my first-ever detention?” You ask in annoyance, though you can’t help but laugh softly at his simplicity.

“Well, not at first,” he admits, “but at least we’re alone, hm?”

“Because you need me alone to talk to me?”

“No, because I need you alone to do this.”

You’re pretty sure if you weren’t already leaning towards him you would’ve fallen backwards from the forceful way his lips crash into yours - and if not from that then the sheer shock of just that. Luckily for you though, he already has an arm snaked around your waist, keeping a hold of you and pulling you closer.

It shocks you though that, despite the initial force, Niki’s kiss is gentle, almost as if he’s easing you into something he knows you’re struggling to accept. He’s experienced, that’s for sure, but you can tell in his movements that he’s holding back from pushing you any further.

You don’t even realise it but your hands are cupping his face, caressing his strong jawline and pulling him closer to you. You open your mouth to talk but the only noise that comes out is a breathy gasp and if you weren’t so caught up in the feeling of his hands in your hair you might’ve stopped to feel embarrassed about how desperate you sound for him right now.

“Niki,” you mumble against his lips, unsure of what to do as you feel your mind struggle to comprehend what’s happening.

“Want me to stop?” he says in between heavy breaths, and even though it sounds like a taunt you know him well enough to know he’s being serious.

You shake your head in response, but decide to have a little fun of your own while you can. “When have you ever cared what I want?”

“Oh, you have no clue,” he hums in a low whisper as he leans back in.

“And when have you ever listened to what I’ve told you to do?”

“You’re right about that,” he smirks, pressing his lips to yours again, this time with the reckless abandon you’ve come to expect from him - almost as if he was waiting for your permission to let go. You thought you would’ve felt a little predictable, pathetic even, for having fallen so easily into his trap and giving him much more than just your attention at this point. But from the way his hands roam your body, grasping for more of you as he whines against your lips you smile to yourself at the realisation that really, he’s the one who’s fallen into your trap.

This sense of control is what finally calms your mind, even if it still struggles with just how ‘wrong’ all of this sounds against how right his lips on yours feel. The sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway however forces you to tear yourself away from him, though his hands don’t leave your body as you strain to figure out who it might be.

“Shit, it’s the teacher,” you say under your breath, pulling away from him to smooth down your skirt. Niki clearly doesn’t care, but still lets out a soft sigh as he hangs his head, leaning back in his chair.

“Tomorrow,” you continue suddenly, “I want the eyebrow piercing and the bleached hair gone.” You know you’re being harsh, but you also know that, given what just happened, you can’t afford to be nice.

“Wh-” he says suddenly, looking at you in disbelief, “I thought you liked them though.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say firmly, “they’re still breaking like ten different uniform rules.”

“Just when I thought I’d finally broken your guard down,” he groans.

“Well, they’ve served their purpose already, haven’t they?” you taunt lightly, bringing a hand up to swipe at your bottom lip which you can feel is a little plump from him biting it. His eyes watch attentively as you do, and he lets out a soft laugh followed by a nod in agreement.

“You’re right,” he exhales, “but now I’m thinking if I keep them in I might keep getting lucky.”

“Niki,” you sigh.

“I mean, maybe if I had a reward for following rules I might feel more motivated,” he hums, looking away as he feigns innocence.

You pause, thinking to yourself for just long enough. “I’ll be studying in the library after school, maybe if you do as I say I’ll let you join me.”

“Studying? That’s what we’re calling it now?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll be there,” he laughs, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile - one that you can’t help but share even as the same teacher who gave you both this detention comes in to tell you you’re free to go.

You watch as he swings his bag over one shoulder coolly, tossing you his signature smirk - only this time, it doesn’t just annoy you, it lingers, sticking to your thoughts in a way you don’t want to admit. Because you know you should be mad, you should roll your eyes and remind yourself that he’s still the same infuriating troublemaker. But as he walks away the only thing you find yourself wondering is if he’ll actually show up tomorrow, and worse, if a part of you wants him to.

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worthlessnepenthes · 2 days ago

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So I reblogged this because it’s funny but then I thought about YQY for a second, and reblogged again so I could talk.

This isn’t going to be any new, profound thoughts for the fandom I’m sure but they’re new to me and I wanna talk for a minute.

I, personally, do not like YQY. I don’t HATE him, but I don’t like him. But I do feel sorriest for him, out of all the SVSSS and PIDW characters. I often forget that when he left SJ, he too was a literal child. Yes, he probably could have done better—told his master he needed help to save his brother, heck, told a fellow shidi or shixiong once he got to the peak. He was probably popular. I can’t imagine no one would have been willing to help him. But he was also a child, so I forgive him. He suffered and hurt himself, grievously, permanently causing himself a chronic condition in his attempts to get back to DJ. I don’t know that I think he did everything he COULD, but I do believe he did everything he THOUGHT he could.

And then Shen Jiu shows up, much like a feral cat, and constantly lashes out and hurts YQY. Their strained relationship is absolutely caused on both ends. It’s hard to say, ‘Well, YQY should have just KNOWN that SJ wasn’t going to the brothels to sleep with whores/didn’t kill LQG/wasn’t abusing Ning Ning/whatever other terrible things he was accused of,’ when SJ was, in fact, very verbally abusive and physically abusive to at least one disciple (lbh. Do we even get a canon reason WHY he hates him so much?), and verbally abusive to YQY, and to most likely many other characters.

However, maybe if YQY had actually stood up for SJ and said ‘No, this is a misunderstanding, this is not what happened,’ instead of just assuming that SJ had done whatever terrible thing and then covering for him in a sense of guilt, maybe things wouldn’t have been so bad. Or if YQY said, ‘take out your anger on me, it’s all my fault, but leave the others alone’. (It wasn’t, and SJ is wrong for acting this way.)

Honestly if they had ever fucking COMMUNICATED instead of just assuming the actual fucking worst of each other, while still deeply loving the other (in whatever romantic or platonic way they had, they loved the other) no matter whether they ever said it or not, a lot could have been avoided. Like PIDW YQY’s death.

Or hell, if Airplane had ever written about Xianxia mental health care instead of probably curing depression with papapa!

But the relationship between SJ and YQY is almost worse and more horrifying after SY comes through. YQY KNOWS it isn’t SJ, but every test they do show he isn’t possessed. So maybe it really is SJ, and all SJ needed to become happy was simply…to forget almost everything, but especially any time SJ and YQY spent together before they became Peak Lords.

So YQY is still trying to make it up to a person that he both thinks is there and thinks is not there, never knowing for sure. Every emotion he has towards this ‘new’ SJ feeling like a betrayal, ‘if only SJ could have acted like this before!’

Yeah. It’s really horrifying. He never gets the comfort of knowing for certain that SJ is gone, never gets to properly grieve and burn incense for him. But he also always feels just slightly off kilter with SY, and then feels guilt, because this is SJ! And even if it isn’t…what can YQY do about it?

YQY has many sleepless nights, wondering, after SY shows up.

I don’t like YQY, but I feel sorry for him. He is the most pitiful character in the book to me.

Shen Qingqiu, pissed off during a peak lord meeting: when I die I want Shang-shidi to lower me into the earth, just so he can let me down one last time

Shang Qinghua: bro c'mon

Yue Qingyuan, abruptly overcome by jealousy so intense that he's on the verge of a qi deviation: but I thought I was the one who let Xiao Jiu down the most...?

#svsss #shen jiu #yue qingyuan #SJ #YQY #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #SY #just fucking bullshit #sqq

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darnell-la · 1 day ago

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I just saw a post where they mentioned what if Logan mocked your moans while he fingered you, or was doing anything really. It seems like it would feel silly coming from him but also so perfectly degrading

summary: y/n had always had a crush on Logan. not the worst Logan, but her timeline Logan. sadly, he died, and now she was stuck with this variant Wade had brought back home. sharing an apartment with an asshole was bad enough, but sharing one with an attractive, cocky, asshole, was far worse. especially when he knew how he made you feel.

note: this story will be the worst Logan. as always, he’s grumpy, and just an open asshole who thinks he’s better than the people he’s around.

———

“Who do you think you are?” Y/n looked up into the man’s eyes with anger, upset that he wouldn’t let her leave the apartment to go out with her friends. She goes out every weekend, and every weekend, he tries to stop her.

“Wade’s gone, and you’re out again — What are you hiding, y/n?” Logan asked, knowing whatever she did was none of her business. “I’m the legal age to drink and club, and you’re in my business about it? — Let me go,” y/n tried taking her arm away.

“You don’t pay for the bills here. Wade does, and-“ Logan tried making up some story about how disrespectful she would be to do what she wants. “And, Wade doesn’t give a shit. What now? I’m a grown woman. I could have a whole family if I wanted to, and you’re trying to trap me in the apartment like I’m some teen,”

“You don’t need to be out there, y/n,” Logan said, knowing what she goes out there for. He couldn’t stand it. Usually, when he teased women and they played hard to get, they didn’t just go out and party. Y/n did, and he couldn’t handle that.

“Get off of me, or I burn you,” y/n threatened as her body temperature heartened. “I’ll heal, and I don’t think you want to deal with me after I do,” Logan threatened as he moved his face inches from hers.

Within seconds, the man let go of how hot her skin was getting. Y/n instantly turned around and left to get out and away from the man who was trying his best to control her.

Fast-forward several hours, y/n finally returned from the nightclub she had attended with her lady friends. Many hours of drinking and plenty of hours of kissing random men had accrued that night.

That only made Logan’s blood boil as he watched every second of it pass by. He debated on lashing out at her every time she went to the bathroom, but when she went, she was always with a girl-friend.

The older man had to suffer for hours as the woman he’d been dying to have, had been kissing other men.

He couldn’t understand why y/n was so stuck up. Last he checked, women lived them rude and cocky. What happened in this timeline?

“Finally home,” Logan spoke in the corner of the darkroom as y/n stumbled into the apartment. She instantly rolled her eyes and sighed as she kicked off her shoes, barely being able to open her eyes or stand correctly.

“Gonna at least speak to me? Or are you too pissy drunk?” Logan asked, knowing which one it was. “That’s what I thought,” the man shook his head as he got up to walk toward her, but she paid no attention and made her way to her room.

“You didn’t even lock the door!” Logan shouted after her, but she ignored him, barely able to think about anything that was happening around her. Once she left the club with loud music, that was it for her.

Logan locked the front door and straightened up the shoes she kicked off on the front mat before he made his way toward her room. The man went to open her door, but she had locked it to shut him out for the night.

Logan sat in his room for a good hour, thinking about the way he should handle y/n. Should he kick her door down and yell at her? Should he talk to her from outside of her room? Should he wait to bring it up tomorrow? Or should he never speak of tonight?

Through the hour, he also thought about those men she let touch all over her and explore her mouth. He swore he’s never been too pissed off about a woman in his life.

It’s almost like she knew he was there to rub it in his face, and if that was the case, and he were to ever find out, he wouldn’t know how far he’d get upset.

All the men she kissed tonight waited for her, like some dog. It’s like Logan could see them a mile away. Why did she choose them, and not him? Logan was the real man here, not them.

“Fuck that,” Logan growled low as he pushed off of his bed and made his way out of his room. The man walked down the small hall before kicking y/n’s door open, causing her to jolt a bit in her sleep.

“Get up,” Logan demanded, but she barely understood him. She was still drunk, and now half asleep and in her dream. “What?” Y/n asked low as she saw the huge man make his way towards her.

“Up!” Logan demanded again before he ripped her cover off. “Hey-“ y/n went to say before Logan grabbed and pulled her up until she was seated in her bed. “Logan, what’s the deal?” Y/n asked, always irritated as he shifted her bottom to the edge of the bed.

“I want you to tell me if they mattered,” Logan spoke, only confused y/n. “What-“ y/n tried saying before Logan ripped her panties off. She had only worse panties and a bra to sleep in tonight instead of a nightgown like she usually wears. She was far too drunk to go through her drawers and find one.

“Hey,” y/n said as she went to push Logan’s fingers away that she rubbed across her heat. “You’re not even wet — They couldn’t have been that good, then,” Logan’s delusion fully kicked in before he stuck to fingers deep into y/n’s mouth.

Y/n tried pulling away and shaking her head, but Logan continued until his fingers were soaked with her saliva.

“Don’t bitch if it goes in dry then,” Logan said before he pushed two fingers at her entrance. “Hey, no-“ y/n went to stop him, but her voice cracked out as her hands stayed in shock right next to her thighs.

The young lady gripped her sheets as Logan curled his two fingers inside of her. “At least you’re empty — Maybe you’re not such a slut after all,” Logan said as y/n whined at the instant feeling of her stomach tightening.

“Aw, what’s wrong? Am I too big? — Fuck, I haven’t even put my dick in you yet,” Logan chuckled as he began to push his fingers in and out of her heat, focusing on her moans and the way she gripped around him.

“L-Lo-L-Lo,” y/n stuttered as she tried her best to keep herself up. “Lo-Lo-Lo — Fucking pathetic,” Logan mocked the girl as he looked into her eyes. She could barely hold them open as Logan played inside of her.

“No more,” y/n cried low as she felt herself near, upset that she wasn’t pushing the man off. She was strong enough to get rid of Logan, but something in her didn’t want him to stop this.

“You didn’t tell those little boys to stop — What makes you think I’ll fucking stop? Huh? — Ian stoppin’ princess,” Logan assured y/n, only making her roll her eyes, fully turned on by the way he was treating her.

For so long, y/n has been waiting for Logan to show just how cocky and asshole-like he could get. Finally, tonight, he decided to let it out.

With her being drunk, she couldn’t love this even more. There was nothing she could do about the way she was about to gush all over him.

“I’m gonna cum,” y/n said low as she fell back onto her mattress, getting ready to give Logan what he was trying so desperately to get from her. “There you go — Relax that body — Give it to me, Bub,” and with that, she did.

Y/n’s body locked up for a few seconds before shaking. Logan couldn’t help but laugh at her to taunt the way she got because of him. “Look at how I get you,”

Logan licked himself after he pulled out of y/n, making sure to get a treat for himself. That had triggered his mind to pick her up and take her to his room to continue eating her out.

“Get those fucking hands away from me, or I’ll make you count till ten,” Logan threatened after y/n tried pushing his head away from her heat. “No more — Please,” y/n begged the man as she took deep gasps.

All Logan did was chuckle into her heat, knowing he had too many more orgasms to go.

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finelinevogue · 3 days ago

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i’m right here

summary - you’re constantly worried about Aaron after a dreadful attack

pairing - aaron hotchner x pregnant!reader

word count - ~1k

You were a little bit emotional to say the least.

If you were to perfectly describe it; You felt a wreck. You were sad and insecure, but you were also hopeful and happy. You were anxious and upset, but you were also relaxed and safe. You were worried and scared, but you were also comfortable and okay.

Feelings were already a lot to deal with, but add in a pregnancy and your emotional baggage will become ten times worse.

Like now, for example.

You felt so warm and safe in bed with your husband, but you were also so damn anxious and sad.

You stared at the wall as you slept on your side, tiny tears dripping from the corners of your eyes.

The room was warm and the bed was comfortable. Aaron was tucked in safely on the other side of the bed. You had started the night with Aaron right behind you, cuddling you like he always does, but he ha drifted away in the night and you really missed him.

He was 20 centimetres away and you missed him.

You looked at the picture on your nightstand. It was a picture of Aaron and Jack, framed in a batman themed frame because that’s what Jack had picked out.

It was taken only weeks before Aaron had been stabbed 9 times, alone, in his apartment, around the early stages of your relationship with him.

2 years on and the incident still scares you.

You blew out a short breath, blinking back the tears, when you felt Aaron’s hand come around your waist. His body slid right back up against yours and his chin rested on your shoulder, but not before leaving a kiss there.

“I’m right here.” He whispered, making your tears spill even more.

Your hand came to rest upon his hand that was on your stomach, stroking calming lines across your swollen belly.

You couldn’t find the words to reply.

“You know, I was just dreaming about you.”

You swallowed back the tears with a smile, rolling your eyes at his silliness. Whatever he was doing was working though.

“Pretty sure I dreamt you were a pirate or something.”

You chuckled at that, thinking that he was going to make up some really lovely dream story but remind you there was nothing better than having the real version of you right there in his arms. Instead he was honest about how he was still dreaming about you as a pirate and had been ever since you dressed as a pirate for halloween.

“You, like always, were on my mind,” Aaron kissed your shoulder again, “But what’s on yours?”

You shook your head, “Nothing good.”

Aaron’s other arm snook underneath your body so he could help carefully turn you around in his hold.

His heart broke a little when he saw how teary and puffy your eyes were. You had clearly been upset for a while but hadn’t wanted to bother him.

“Y/N…” He whispered, cupping a hand on your cheek and wiping your tears. “Talk to me.”

His brows furrowed like he was angry at whatever, or whoever, had made you sad. He had felt ridiculously overprotective ever since he had found out you were pregnant and seeing you cry was the worse sin there was.

“You’re here.” You said softly.

Aaron nodded carefully.

Your hand slowly moved underneath his pyjama t-shirt and traced over the jagged edges of his scars. You knew exactly where each of them were on his chest and you move efficiently between them to count them all again.

Aaron let you do what you needed to do.

After the events of that fateful need 2 years ago, you and Aaron had gone to therapy together to talk through it all. Aaron had found out there that you needed to touch the scars from time-to-time to make sure that they were all sealed and healed. You needed a physical reminder that he was okay now.

If anyone else touched him the way you were then he would feel so uncomfortable and exposed. With you, he felt safe and grounded.

“You need to try and sleep. Get some rest, before trouble comes.” Aaron suggested.

“I c-can’t.”

“Why, sweetheart?”

“In case he comes back. I need to keep you safe.” You said.

“Y/N.” Aaron’s frown softened, finally understanding the reason for your upset.

You were so worried about something bad happening again that it was keeping you up. Aaron needed as much rest as possible with such a stressful job, so you decided you’d take charge of night-watch.

“I need to. I can’t…. I…” You were getting yourself worked up again.

“Look at me.” Aaron’s voice forced you to look his way, “I am right here. Jack is next door. We’re all here and we’re all safe, that much I can promise you.”

“But…” You hiccuped.

Aaron shook his head, “We’re okay. We got the bad guy, we always do.”

“I just.. I keep thinking how alone you must’ve felt…” You cried, “A-and I was out at a-a bar.”

Aaron smiled at you.

“I wasn’t alone.” Aaron picked up your hand gently and rested it over his heart, “You were right here. So was Jack. You both got me through it - all of it.”

You gave out another cry and Aaron knew then that you would be okay, you just needed to understand that he was here now and he was okay.

He brought you closer to him, tucking your head beneath his chin and holding you close against him. He made sure there was room for your bump between you both and cradled you tight.

“I’m right here. I’m safe.” Aaron repeated mindless phrases to you to remind you of the present.

He was okay. You and Jack were okay. You’d all be okay in the end.

#aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch angst

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hitomisuzuya · 1 day ago

Text

stepcest, DNI if it makes you uncomfortable. smut. scummy scara. cunnilingus. semi public.

i meant to have this written a lot sooner than this. have a wonderful night, everyone.

scaramouche has it all planned out.

your figurative date that didn't really exist suddenly flakes on you. then scaramouche valiantly swoops in to take you out instead. it's what a good stepbrother would do after all. that way, he could take you on your real valentine's day date. the moms would none the wiser.

everything goes off without a hitch, and later that evening scaramouche is spoiling you (and himself) with his credit card. even though you now have access to the same trust fund, and could pay for things on your own, he didn't care. he is going to do what he wants with his money and that's spend it on you.

as for his treat(s), first was a stop at the lingerie boutique.

the girls at the checkout counter are the none the wiser either. to them, he looks like your boyfriend giving his opinion as you shyly model lingerie for him. they didn't know your boyfriend was also your stepbrother.

imagining various ways to ruin you in whatever he picks off the racks. standing there giving careful consideration about how your breasts would spill out of the bras. about how the panties would look soaked and clinging wet to your pussy.

about how the lingerie would look scattered and torn all over the floor next to the bed while he has you on all fours, your back arched and your face buried in his pillows while he fucks his thick cock inside your tight little cunt from behind. mewling and moaning about how good your stepbrother's cock feels inside of you.

there is one image that can't get out of his head as he waits for you to emerge from the dressing room, his cock twitching with anticipation: how you would look hastily pulling your bra down off your breasts to play with and pinch your nipples. grinding your pussy needily on his mouth while he fucks your hole with his pierced tongue.

"will you come in and help me with this clasp?" was the innocent question that led to him on his knees in the dressing room, teasing his tongue piercing on your clit outside of your panties.

"sc-scara, someone m-might see," you said, your tone quiet and shaky. you are struggling to keep yourself from moaning. you shiver as his fingers graze over your thighs. the door to the dressing room is closed, but anybody walking by could very clearly he is on his knees in front of you.

"hm?" scaramouche purrs nonchalantly. frankly, he doesn't really care. the girls working at the checkout are far more interested in their phones due to the slow hour.

the moment he'd seen you in a particularly lacy, see through set he picked out, a shy blush on your cheeks wondering if you look okay when you asked him. he'd immediately dropped to his knees in worship. you look much, much more than okay.

the outline of your swollen clit was poking up against your panties, his saliva quickly soaking the thin fabric. he smirks as he moves your panties to the side, looking up at you with a raised eyebrow.

a teasing gesture that said: well then, you'd better be quiet so no one will hear you. hear you struggling not moan like a total slut while your stepbrother eats you out in the dressing room.

his licks are languid and slow. he knows he'll have to stop soon before he gets too hard. before he starts muffling moans into your pussy, drunk on the taste of you. so why not enjoy himself while he can?

you clamp a hand over your mouth as he scoops your clit into his mouth to suck on. you lean back against the dressing room wall, giving you leeway to hold his mouth against your pussy and grind on his mouth.

scaramouche could see you wrestling with yourself as your hips roll into his mouth. he slowly wags the ball of his tongue piercing around your clit, enjoying the show. your eyes kept darting to the door for a moment, wondering just how much and how long you could grind your pussy on his mouth. a feeble to attempt to satisfy the throbbing in your clit.

seeing you glance away from him, he pulls away to give your clit a wet tap as he glares up at you. a reminder of your place and keep your attention on him.

your legs shake as pleasure jolts through you. your eyes widen realizing a moan had been dangerously close to coming out. his mouth just felt so fucking good.

scaramouche loops an arm around your hips, holding your pussy on his mouth. his tongue dips down to prod at your quivering hole before sweeping back up to your clit. he smirks in approval watching you look back down at him.

your fingers tighten in his hair as he returns to assaulting your clit. you are wondering how long you can last when suddenly he cruelly takes his mouth off of your pussy.

"wear this out," he says, snapping off the pricetag so he could pay for it with the rest. standing up, he kisses you, forcing you to taste yourself on his lips. he hates to stop now, but he was getting too hard.

your positions would be reversed when he took you home. you would be on your knees for him, kitten licking his cock. amongst other things. his next stop is the sex shop down the road from the mall.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #tw stepcest #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #scummy scara #modern au

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authorhjk1 · 3 days ago

Note

could you do a how does KIOF roleplay?

Julie

At first you found Julie's roleplaying a little off putting. You're fine with a lot of stuff, but you didn't expect her to one day randomly suggest something this taboo. Julie doesn't have a brother or sister, but you're not sure if that makes it better or not. She herself told you that she knows it is weird at the beginning, but you can see how much it turns her on. How wet she gets when you call her your sister while you nail her naked body into the living room window. How her eyes glisten with lust while she strokes your cock, admiring it as if she saw it for the first time.

"Oh my god, little brother. I didn't know you had such a nice cock."

Julie liked a lot of foreplay as well, which makes the sex itself even more real. By now you can't count the times when you were just watching TV in the living room and suddenly Julie came in, only wearing the tightest crop top that showed off her naked nipples through the fabric and her lace panties, and just kneeled in front of the TV, then took something out of the drawer underneath it and walked away again. And everytime she said something, which made it clear what she's expecting you to do next.

"By the way, mom and dad are gonna be home late today."

On the weekends, Julie even roleplays early in the morning. When you're preparing breakfast she walks into the kitchen, only wearing a shirt of yours, which ends halfway down her thighs. Then, she opens the fridge and bends down, the hem of your shirt riding up her ass so you can have a good view of her wet pussy.

"Why do you always eat my stuff? You better make it up to your sister, sweetie."

Natty

Natty always had a thing for giving you head at random times since the beginning of your relationship. Sh just loved how you always looked so surprised when she either just dropped to her knees in front of you when the two of you were alone, or when she took your hand without a word in public, just giving you a wink, before leading you to a more private space.

And since she found the succubus hairband and wings while looking for a Halloween costume last year, Natty constantly roleplays as succubus. She keeps changing her outfit, but always includes the wings and horns.

When you wake up in the morning, you're greeted by her in nothing but sexy lingerie, her lips already tightly sealed around your cock. After a long day at work, you sometimes come home to Natty roleplaying different roles, while still roleplaying as succubus. A succubus school girl, a succubus teacher, a succubus cheerleader, a succubus bride who's husband is lying in the next room, already completely drained of his cum.

But for some reason, today's outfit might be your favorite. The nun outfit is obviously a sexier version of an actual thing a nun would wear, but you still catch the wings on her back and the two balck horns, which peak out from underneath her veil. Natty even put in red contact lenses, making her look even more like a succubus in disguise.

"Do you want to know what sinning feels like?"

Belle

Belle is a princess. I think that's pretty obvious. That's how she likes to be treated during sex all the time anyway. Throughout your time with her, she's tried out very different forms of princesses. Obviously Disney princesses came first. Cinderella, Belle, Jasmine and so on. But once Belle tried out all of these often enough, she moved on.

Last week you came home to her lying on your bed, the only thing she was wearing was princess Leia's custome from Jabba's palace. She offered you her leash and asked you to be the roughest you've ever been with her. Which still doesn't mean that much since getting fucked from behind while getting her face pressed into the sheets is already extreme for her. She's just a soft princess most of the time.

Yesterday you were greeted by a Chinese princess. Belle wore a silk hanfu, which showed all kinds of light colours, making her look like a spring goddess. Flowers in her hair and a big golden hairpin completed her outfit. It was authentic, so she barely showed any skin at all, but that was completely fine with you, since it made the experience even more real.

And today another princess waited for you on your bed after you stepped out of the shower. Belle as a Pharaoh's daughter, wearing a black wig a golden hairband in form of a snake and golden bracelets on her arms and ankles. Her white silk dress was incredible thin, almost counting as see through. It showed off her body's curves perfectly and you could even see a fake bellybutton piercing through the dress.

Haneul

Haneul wasn't a fan of roleplay, until she wore something more formal once. Not a dress, but a suit. She felt somewhat powerful and strong in it and to her own surprise she made you feel that during sex that night.

She still doesn't roleplay often, but occasionally, you now find yourself face to face with your strict boss who threatens to fire you if you don't eat her out, or your school's principal who threatens to call your parents if you don't show her your cock, or once even your superior officer who tells you to fuck her hard if you don't want to get dishonorably discharged.

You usually enjoy fucking and using Haneul however you want with her being a good girl, but once in a while you do like to be the one who has to do what she says.

"And now the other one."

Right now Haneul roleplays as the hot and successful neighbor, who caught you looking at her through the window. She told you she'd call the police if you didn't do what she said. So now you place her naked foot on the floor, before your reach for the other one, still in one of her heels.

#ask #kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #julie kiss of life #haneul kiss of life #natty kiss of life #belle kiss of life #kiss of life smut #kiss of life

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rik0shii · 2 days ago

Text

lads guys headcanons

(zayne,sylus,xavier,rafayel,caleb)

warnings :fluff

request: yes

thank you for requesting, I'm new to doing those things so pls tell me if it wasn't to your liking or if it wasn't what you imagined so that I can fix it and get better !

Zayne

• Super punctual—if you have a date set for 1 PM, he’s already outside at 12:50, waiting in his car just so he can call you at the exact time.

• Kids adore him. He has that calm, safe aura that makes even the shyest child want to hold his hand.

• ASMR king—his whispery, soft-spoken voice could put anyone to sleep. If he ever recorded voice memos for you, they’d be the most soothing thing ever.

• After a long mission, he welcomes you with quiet reassurances, hugging you from behind and murmuring, “You did great today. I missed you.”

• Loves holding your hand, whether it’s a quick squeeze of reassurance or intertwining fingers while walking.

• Soft, sleepy smiles—the rare moments when he’s tired but still awake enough to look at you and grin lazily.

• Would totally tuck a blanket around you if you fell asleep on the couch.

Xavier

• Definitely the “I know a spot” guy. And when he shows you? It’s breathtaking—some secret rooftop, a hidden garden, a quiet overlook.

• Hand-holding and forehead kisses in those quiet places where it’s just the two of you.

• If you’re on a mission and he’s not with you, he refuses to sleep. He’ll pace, check his phone, stare at the ceiling—anything but rest.

• CLINGS when you return. Arms wrapped around you, face buried in your neck, and a muffled, “Don’t ever leave me like that again.”

• Skilled with his fingers? Definitely means he can play the piano beautifully. Would learn your favorite song just to surprise you.

• Lowkey romantic in an effortless way. Always the guy to drape his jacket over you if you’re cold or tilt your chin up before a kiss.

Sylus

• Loves stargazing. If you ever go on a late-night drive, he’ll pull over just to sit on the hood of the car with you, pointing out constellations.

• Loves rainy days—the sound, the smell, the way it makes everything feel cozy. If it’s storming outside, he’s making hot drinks and pulling you onto the couch for a movie marathon.

• A big fan of sleepy cuddles. He’ll absentmindedly run his fingers through your hair while half-asleep.

• Writes little notes for you and leaves them in random places—inside books, on your mirror, tucked into your jacket pocket.

• Horrible at remembering dates but amazing at remembering tiny details—like the way you take your coffee or the song you hummed once three months ago.

• Unironically loves stuffed animals. If you ever give him one, he’ll pretend it’s no big deal, but you’ll definitely find it on his bed later.

Caleb

• Super protective but in a quiet way—he’ll walk on the side closest to the street, double-check locks before bed, and always notice when you seem off.

• Really good cook—if you’re having a bad day, expect a homemade meal that somehow tastes exactly like comfort.

• Loves fixing things for you. Broken zipper? He’s on it. Squeaky door? Fixed. Car won’t start? He’s already rolling up his sleeves.

• Acts grumpy but is secretly the softest. If you rest your head on his shoulder, he’ll pretend to sigh but won’t move an inch.

• Always warm. If you’re cold, he’ll just pull you into his side like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

• Reads a lot. Might not admit it, but he totally has a favorite book and will casually reference it in conversation.

• Loves slow dancing in the kitchen. No music, just the sound of your breathing and his steady heartbeat.

Rafayel

• Absolute charmer—he can flirt like it’s second nature, but when it comes to real feelings, he gets a little shy.

• Knows how to dress. If you ever need help picking an outfit, he’ll make sure you look stunning.

• Sends voice memos instead of texts. His voice is too smooth not to be used.

• Great dancer—whether it’s a fancy ballroom-style twirl or a goofy little move in the kitchen, he makes everything feel fun.

• Gives the best compliments—not just about looks, but little things like, “I love how your eyes light up when you talk about something you love.”

�� Cuddling expert. His hugs are always just the right amount of firm, warm, and lingering.

• Loves learning about you. Your favorite color? Noted. The way you like your tea? Memorized. A weird fact about something you love? He’ll bring it up just to see you smile.

#lads zayne #x reader #lads rafayel #lads sylus #lads xavier #lads caleb #headcanons #lads headcanons #zayne x reader #caleb x reader #sylus x reader #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #love and deepspace

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beuxwhoyouare · 19 hours ago

Text

Is It Infidelity?

Ethan & Mark came up in a generation that wasn’t fond of the idea of them. They combatted adversity to be together through it all after meeting each other in high school. Coming up in a time that wasn’t too kind to gay people, they found solace in one another’s company and through it all fell in love. By that point in time, the world began shifting. Being gay was more common and less frowned upon.

The pair ended up going to college together, getting married, climbing their career ladders, and establishing themselves in their community. Eventually in their early 40s they decided it was time to take the plunge and start a family. They eventually had their little Billy goat and thought this would be the beginning of their next chapter. But as much as they wanted Billy’s new life to be surrounded by love, it presented new challenges that made Ethan & Mark doubt their preparedness and worse…their love for each other.

They got through years of bigotry and hatred, but resentment built between the pair. Eventually they realized they needed to spend time together being more thoughtful and constructive with their communication and began trying to see a couples counselor, but that required help to take care of Billy.

That’s when they met Aaron. A former collegiate football player, Aaron was in pharmacy school trying to pay his way through and looking for relatively long term and stable gigs to allow him a routine to focus on school. Aaron overheard the pair squabbling one time about how to make time to go see the counselor when he had the idea to pitch himself as a potential nanny for Billy.

The two men were taken aback by the strangers act of generosity and they’d be remiss to ignore his archetypical great physique.

They invited him over for drinks at the house to get to know him better and ensure he wasn’t like a murderer or anything outlandish. His story endeared the couple to him even more and they all hit it off, including Billy. That was nearly 2 years ago now.

Ethan & Mark had seemingly worked on their tension, Aaron enjoyed their family unit. A child aged out of the foster care system, the family became a surrogate one to the future pharmacist. All was seemingly at ease once again and Aaron hoped that even when he finished school, he wouldn’t lose them or maybe he selfishly wanted something else that couldn’t be said aloud. Under the surface multiple things were bubbling.

Mark was not happy in their marriage anymore. He still loved Ethan and his son but he wasn’t sure that was enough to keep the marriage alive. They all had built a friendship with Aaron, so Mark thought he’d be the perfect one to confide in about the emergence of such turmoil in his heart.

Mark told Aaron one day about the fallout of love he was facing as Ethan worked a double at the hospital. The confession was a blindside to Aaron, but not for the reason you may think. Aaron loved them all dearly but he began gaining feelings for Ethan somewhere along the way. Could this be his chance to get the man he thought he wanted? No, surely that would ruin the relationships they’ve all built? Right? Almost like word vomit, Aaron released those inside thoughts aloud.

The silence between the two was deafening. The two stared at each other quietly for a few moments before Mark broke down crying. Aaron began inching closer to console his boss and close friend. As he sat close he began tearing up saying “I wish I could help you more in this moment. I love you guys so much and I love Billy he’s like a kid to me too at this point.”

Mark looked up and told the young man, “I’m so sorry that you’re having these feelings for Ethan and now you’re in the middle of our mess. I wish there would just be an easy way to end the sadness.” As the two wiped their tears, they agreed to not divulge anything to Ethan without the other one’s approval. In their respective homes, they both tossed and turned in bed, distraught over the days discoveries or so they thought. The world had other reasons to keep them tossing and turning. Aiming to add balance to their situation, the world had a solution and needed their souls to accomplish it.

A universal force aimed to add balance, ripping their souls from their bodies and placing them in each others corporal forms. When the switch was done, the two finally fell into sleep.

Mark woke up peacefully with no blaring crying from Billy. He couldn’t remember the last time that happened lately. Trusting muscle memory he made his way to the restroom eyes closed, bumping into a few things he didn’t recognize but also didn’t invest too much thought into. He fumbled into the restroom feeling a bit chilly, odd considering he went to sleep in a long sleeve pj top.

Oblivious to the situation, Mark’s new physique stood in a doorframe it did many times before unaware of its new operator. As Mark moved to drop his pants to pee, he wrapped his now muscled hand around an unfamiliar thick morning wood. The size difference forced his eyes to finally open as he looked down gasping from the foreign sight below him. Gone was his long sleeve, replaced by mounds and mounds of sexy rippling muscle. Pecs like mountains with sharply pointed nipples. Ridges of cobblestone abs leading towards a v-line that introduced a thick, dark, rod below, insanely larger that the one he’d used for decades.

Instead of beginning to pee, he motioned over to the mirror in the restroom with pants still down. In the reflection there stood a nearly nude Aaron. Instinct took over as his new hand almost began jerking back and forth comfortably on his new thick pole. Speeding up as he involuntarily began moaning then grunting. As his pace picked up he wasn’t used to the sheer force needed to keep this body satisfied and while stacked with muscle the lack of preparedness led to him bracing himself against a nearby wall.

Meanwhile, Marks’ new phone sat buzzing at the bedside of the bed. Across the city, Aaron panicked calling Mark after realizing the new situation he found himself in, literally. He panic called several times in a row unaware the Ethan entered the room behind him. Slipping his hands around Aaron’s waist, Ethan pulled him in. The shocked new inhabitant of his husband’s body turned around shocked at the pull, turning around to figure out what’s happening. As he turned his head, Ethan dominantly went in for a kiss. Unbeknownst to Ethan, Aaron initially panicked and moved to resist the kiss before melting into the moment.

He couldn’t resist. If this was a dream, he might as well live it up. Aaron disregarded who he looked like and played the role he always wanted to be. A doting loving husband. He used context clues and realized Mark wasn’t the most domineering of the two, but used a little initiative to motion to the bed. Ethan pulled him over as the continued to make out, Aaron’s new husband savagely ripped off the boxers he was wearing. Ethan pushed Aaron to bend over on the bed, ass up just like he liked it. It was a side of Ethan that Aaron never saw while babysitting Billy but he was savoring every single moment.

Aaron’s new husband romantically kissed him from behind again before having his head shoved onto the bed. A tongue quickly beginning to then explore his hole before a familiar to the body but foreign to Aaron sensation arrived. Ethan quickly entered before slowly rocking back out. That odd tempo was weird to understand at first before Aaron quickly accepted the pace and went with it.

Across the city, Mark was still enjoying his self-pleasure rodeo grunting and moaning as he pounded his new body’s meat. The vitality of a younger body was something he previously lost along the way of life but was thankful to have once again. This body knew its way in a gym clearly so what would’ve broken a sweat previously was like child’s play now. Stroking back and forth, Mark used his free hand to try and stimulate himself the way he used to, trying to explore his hole. His new body nearly protested itself. Way too tight, never seemingly been explored. A strict dom top? He should’ve known. That discovery almost erotic itself turning Mark on even more.

The universe seemingly playing its hand once again as both men on both sides of the city climaxing at the same time. Both independently relishing their new situations. Both getting what they wanted without the need to sacrifice seemingly anything?

Aaron turned to Ethan doting to him almost pleading with his eyes to go again. While Mark picked up a nearby shirt and made his way to a pre-school workout.

#identity theft #gay #male body swap #body swap #male body switch #male transformation

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amoristt · 19 hours ago

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the night falls like heaven

「 ✦nam-gyu/reader ✦ 」 tags: sfw // hurt/comfort, pining, nam-gyu's pov, lots of angst in an edgy way, very light drxg mentions,

a/n: this'll be a 2 part mini series! so excited to get this started ugh tysm to anon who requested this word count: 9.2k | songs i listened to (x) (x) original request (x)

・❥・Nam-gyu was not a man of many regrets.

If he had to count, he could fit them all on one hand. Mostly from when he was a teen. Younger and somehow even more impulsive than he was now, drinking through money like water and getting into fights he’d never remember. The worst of them all, however, was one he hadn’t thought would really eat at him. It was unlike himself to get hung up over a girl of all things, but good lord, he was hanging. Strings and all, like a marionette, bleeding and sore at the joints.

Tough to swallow couldn’t even compare to the feeling of when that specific regret suddenly pops up in the same room after years of abandon. If he hadn’t been so down bad, the sight of you would have only ruffled up his feathers enough to remind him of a better time, but in God’s honest eyes, those feathers of his had been ruffled since the dawn of the very instant you left. The door hadn’t even had a chance to hit you on your way out, nothing but dust and tears in your wake. He was stuck fast, left to his own devices, bouncing between wondering why he let it go so bad and whilst also begging God himself to make you stop being such a bitch.

But the worst part, the worst part is that even now you still carry this aura of over it all around you. Self-respect colliding with the want to be loved was never an easy tango to dance, all steps just pulling and pushing and trying to snuff out useless feelings and red hot passion. But you twirled until he did what he did best and nudged you to the brink of your breaking point. All that sweet, sweet adoration drained from your face and he saw it- dignity. He saw it on you on your way out of his apartment, storming past him with biting tears in your eyes. And now, years later, he gets to see it again from across the room.

You’re sitting on a high, high bunk you’ve claimed as yours, people watching. Other than the initial moment you’d seen him in the bubble of people, you haven't bothered sparing him a second glance. It was a beautiful moment- your eyes widening, stopped dead in your tracks before you were on the move all over again. He’s sneaking glances through the corners of his eyes, watching you over his shoulder, and you can’t even give him another second of your day. And the thing that really bothers him is that he knows he can’t stop.

Out of everyone in this room, your distant presence is a fiery beacon in the darkness and he’s an angry, bitter moth. It’s in his very nature to circle and flutter one step behind, seeking the light, burning at its touch. Singed wings and an endless sneer. If only he could just stop touching the heat, he would surely move on. But he just can’t, and the fact that you can pisses him off so much it makes him lose his breath at times.

He wished, with the very core of his entire being, that you were weaker. Or, at least, stupider. Maybe then you would have lived up to his expectations and showed up to his door, or at his club, teary eyed and lonely without his superior presence around. He could see it behind his eyes at night, the waver in your voice when you’d beg him to come back into your arms, and more importantly, back into your bed.

I told you so, he’d say, with that shit eating grin and a hand on your waist guiding you out from the cold.

A forlorn, guideless sheep in need of your shepherd. He could be that for you. If only the word boyfriend didn’t make him shudder with every last fiber of his being. If only that specific little thing wasn’t your breaking point. Your face haunted him- that halo around your irises fading into something far away and charred when he’d had the nerve to actually laugh at you for it. You were grabbing your things and leaving, and he sat watching every moment in clips. It wasn’t anything, back then. You were just mad, in a few days you’d be right as rain climbing into his lap and peppering kisses along his throat. You’d be back, he was sure of it.

But then the days turned into weeks. And then, to his distaste, those weeks faded into months of silence. He started to catch himself looking for you in crowds, visiting places you’d frequented at just to linger around like an awkward ghost in case he spotted you through the shifting crowds. But you were gone- vanished.

Fine. You’ll never see me again, asshole.

Those words had been etched into the very walls of his cranium since they’d left your lips in a scathing hiss. Such nasty words, but they shook with every consonant.

Among your pride was a healthy blend of honesty. You had been true to your word- he really did never see you again. Wiped your slate spotless of anything Nam-gyu.

And it drove him fucking crazy. It made him sick to his stomach in a way he did not think was possible. It was out of control- he couldn’t stop thinking about you, you, you. He missed you more than he didn’t, and he was angrier at himself than he’d like to admit. So instead of admitting, he funnels all that anger into the very shape of you. Drags in the idea of you, his memories of you and shoves them down, down, down, until he truly did think he hated you, after all.

Until he’s clenching his fist so tight he’s drawing blood and telling himself he’s better off now, without some whining bitch in his ear begging him to stick that boyfriend pin into the thinness of his skin. Thinks that without you hanging on his arm all the damn time, he could really go out and have some fun. He thinks, and he thinks and he thinks until he’s thought too much and suddenly he loves you again and he misses you so bad it’s crushing him under the sheer weight of your absence.

So, Nam-gyu does what Nam-gyu does best once again, and he drowns himself out with the bitter taste of drugs on his tongue and the sear of alcohol in his blood.

It all stops.

For a time, anyway.

You always found ways to seep back into his mind one way or another. Songs that would only make it a second in before he was mashing the skip button. A tv show you’d watched together surviving on the screen roughly a whole minute before it’s switched off. Sometimes it was when he saw something he knew you’d like- a shitty video or meme. Other times you came to him in whispers while he laid out on his own living room floor, out of his mind watching the blank ceiling above him twist and writhe under his spotty vision with a needle poking out of his arm.

But, most times… Most times you would slither your way to the forefront of his mind just before bed. The touch of you, the smell of you.

The shape of you underneath him. Hands and quiet breaths. He could still hear the noises you made ringing in his ears, stored away in his memories just to taunt him when he was indisputably alone. Soft skin, even softer thighs. Always so warm, and so wet. So willing. You would come to him while he curled over himself in bed, drunk on porn and memories.

And afterwards, when Nam-gyu had finished, he would throw his head back onto his pillow and ignore the way it felt like there was a lump in his throat. And that would piss him off even more, because fuck, you should be there with him. Laying by his side running your hands through his hair until he’s falling asleep balancing on the fine line of afterglow and dozing off.

But you aren’t. You’re doing fuck all with who knows in places he’s never been to, places you probably begged him to go but he couldn’t even remember the name of. You hadn’t answered a single one of his texts, you hadn’t picked up a single call and everytime he hears the first couple seconds of your stupid voicemail he wants to crush his phone in his hands. Vexation was a slippery slope into the fires of fury- rage was like a parasite under his skin, eating away at what little rational thinking he had.

Voicemail after voicemail. Text after ignored text. Anger was the hardest stage- rage grew horns on the crown of his head and it turned him into something he couldn’t recognize. Or, something he refused to recognize- desperate and heartsick.

It was supposed to be you. Not him.

He filled the endless gaps of you with drugs often and women when he could. For a short time it would work and he would wonder why he ever let someone else get him so, so low. But then the drugs would wear off. The random woman in his room that he never bothered to learn the name of would grab her clothes and saunter out the door. He stopped letting them stay the night. He could never sleep, stared at the ceiling until 5am wondering why he still felt like shit. He would be right back where he started, sitting on the couch, staring at the door watching you leave over and over again.

You stopped updating your socials, quit hanging out with the few people that bounced between his and your crowd, successfully scrubbed him of your life entirely. After a year, he resorted to asking around if anyone had seen you. The answer, as always, was a firm no. It was a corrosive feeling, a constant churn and thrum within the cage of his ribs. It made him even more unrecognizable to himself. Made him invite women into his lap just to shove them away when they didn’t smell like you, or sound like you. Or laugh like you.

It had been so, so perfect before. It was fun, and it was hot all the time, and sex with you felt like heaven was a place on earth. Why couldn’t you see that? Why did you have to go and ruin it with your words and pleading eyes? Nam-gyu doesn’t roll like that. You knew that. He’s a free spirit, he tells himself. No chains, no labels. No holding him down. Even if it was at the feet of this gorgeous, gorgeous body and a honey sweet voice that just always seemed to know what to say. Beautiful eyes that always watched, a smile so saccharine, whispering words against his ear so dirty it made him shiver just to think about.

The world was too vast to be held down.

But, truth be told, he was held down.

He is held down.

When you walked out of his apartment those years ago, he never left that spot, chewing his nails and anxiously spinning the ring on his finger, watching you go. He started seeing it behind his eyes. Replays it, changes the course, wonders where he’d be right now if he’d just said something different.

Finding you at the games was like divine intervention. It had to be. Some higher power had crossed his path and plopped you right in front of him. With rolling eyes and a deadpan stare at anything except for him, sure but you were there and you weren't going anywhere anytime soon. God had heard his drug induced prayers of stupor.

Now it was all about waiting. Waiting for the right moment to dive in and recapture you within him and he’d be right back to drinking you in at every chance he had. He’d do it differently this time, do it right so you’d cling to him and wonder why you ever wanted to leave at all. Make you wonder why you were so stupid to have been so stubborn when everything you could ever need was in the palm of your hand. He was sure of it. That strong, bullheaded expression would blitz is something vulnerable in his hands. A lurch of excitement riveted under his skin among the nerves.

For now, he waits, and watches. Your presence could never go unnoticed by his dark eyes.

It’s unfortunate for him that Thanos takes a notice to you, too. It’s hard not to, really, when every time he follows Nam-gyu’s locked line of sight it always leads back to you- this little sweet thing perched up at the peak of the bunks alongside the back, watching the room with this bored stare between mundane yapping with other players.

“Someone you know?” Thanos’s voice had this subtle drip to it, this underlining excitement that Nam-gyu picks up on almost instantly. His expression stays cool, mostly uninterested despite the way he can’t seem to pry his eyes away from you even as he answers.

“Yeah.”

“Who is she?”

And then he’s stuck. Because his mouth opens for a split second to say, my ex, but he can’t quite say that, now can he? But he also can’t say an old friend either, because you simply weren’t. What you two had was something else entirely- a new plane he struggled to navigate, lovely when things were good, a hellscape when they weren't. The lines were always so blurred, fuzzy with sex and warm laughter.

He decides on something mostly true. “Someone I used to hang out with.”

“Girlfriend?” Thanos’s brow raises with his chirp, leaning forward with clear interest.

“No.” It comes out quick- too quick, and too heavy. Tinged venom with more baggage than even he could handle at times. Thanos catches it on impact and whistles.

“I see. So you won’t care if I go chat her up? Hm?”

“Don’t bother. She’s not like that.” Nam-gyu’s scoffs before he can stop himself, this unsettling seed of jealousy planting itself in his chest.

“Hm… I guess we’ll see, huh?”

You’re dismounting from your bed and climbing onto the stairs when Thanos jumps to his feet, and Nam-gyu can already feel that itchy panic starting to blotch away at his skin. His hands, his cheeks. That seed takes its place within him bearing vicious roots.

“Man, don’t bother,” He’s touching at Thanos’s sleeve, his shoulder, anywhere he can to try and gather his friend’s attention. “She can be kind of a bi-”

All it takes is a swat to Nam-gyu’s chest to stop him dead in his tracks, words dying his throat. Shut down, watching his friend take quick steps to you, Nam-gyu following close behind to witness. If only he could be firmer, never demanding, always suggesting. Always rolling over and showing his soft underbelly at Thanos’s whim. Instead, he lets his lips press into a tight line and let’s it all happen right before him.

You’re on the bottom step and taking a seat, and you see the rapper approaching before he gets a word in, but your eyes skip over him entirely and settle onto Nam-gyu’s. Distress is building in his muscles, but he’s making damn sure to keep himself in check.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone? You want a friend?”

Up closer now, sharing your space, he sees all the things he’d been missing so deeply throughout the years. You still look just as he remembered- still bearing this expression of bemused coolness, still having these all seeing eyes that seemed to cut right through him.

“A friend?” you hum, and your voice threatens to pull him in like gravity. “You wanna be my friend?”

If jealousy could sprout through his skin, it’d be an ugly beast of horns and claws. But it can’t, so instead, it takes shape in the way Nam-gyu’s eyes are flicking between yours and the rappers, hands wrapped up in his sleeves.

“Stick with me, yeah? I promise to keep you safe. My number one priority.” And Thanos is patting his chest, flashing those painted nails. Makes Nam-gyu’s chest tighten, his stomach growing sicker by the second.

Damn, you can see it, too. There’s no denying the way he’s cringing behind that distant smirk, and he doesn’t think to hide the way he’s twisting his rings on his fingers. When you click your tongue, he knows what's coming.

“Stick with you, hm… Sorry, but I try to work alone. Partner’s tend to, how do I say…” Those eyes of your slice through him all over again, honing into him when you finish your sentence. “Disappoint me.”

Fuck. Disappointment. Oh god, how that sears into Nam-gyu’s skin. The way you look the rapper up and down, visually sizing him up, would make his heart leap into his throat if he were under that same scrutiny. He never understood how you could always be this intense with such a sweet, sweet face. Kindness was certainly a luxury and he missed it, that never ending fire that kept him warm.

“I can change that for you,” Thanos sings. “I’m a legend here for a reason.”

“Legend? I’ve never heard of you.” Your brows raise in amusement.

“You will. Thanos.” He puffs his chest out and nods, a half cocked grin playing over his lips. “Guy’s like me, we don’t disappoint.”

The man actually finds the nerve to reach down and pluck your hand, bringing his knuckles to his lips. Nam-gyu feels red hot scorching through his face but he’s locked in place, watching it like a car crash. Relieved when you yank your hand free and shove it into your jacket’s pocket. It’s the only good thing out of this entire interaction, he finds, especially so when Thanos’s smirk falters into a tight surprised line.

“Don’t go and do all that. Guy’s like you will always disappoint me.” You lean back against the wall of the step, vexation evident over your features. “How about you talk to me again after the next game, yeah? Maybe I’ll feel different. Thanos.”

You always were so good at slamming the door in people's faces, always brought Nam-gyu joy to witness you shut down the advances of some poor loser trying to gain your affections. Thanos knows he’s been hung out in the cold, too. Barking up the wrong tree in the wrong neighborhood in the wrong country. So, he takes a loose step backwards and shrugs.

“Your loss.” He sighs, and Nam-gyu follows him all the way back to his bunk in brooding silence.

Wringing his fingers, he can’t help himself when casts a glance over his shoulder to find you one last time before you’re obscured behind metal frames and moving bodies. When he does, he feels a rush of heat in his cheeks when you’re already stuck fast staring right back, watching him go. He’s silent when he sits down at his little corner of the dormitory, silent when Gyeong-su is harping praises at Thanos. Silent, even, when Thanos says he’s determined to bring you to his side of the map.

However, he noticeably tenses when Thanos mutters, “What a babe, huh? I should go visit her after lights out.”

Almost immediately there’s hands on his shoulders, pushing and nudging him, demanding his attention. The deepest of sighs leaves the rapper, ducking his head to find Nam-gyu’s eyeline.

“Come on, man. Don’t be pissed, it’s in my nature, boy. Be honest. You into her?”

“Me and her…” Nam-gyu swallows. “We used to mess around.”

“Lucky you.” Thanos’s is shoving Nam-gyu’s shoulders again. “You cut her lose?”

No, she cut me loose. But Nam-gyu can’t bring himself to say that, the words lost and barred at the tip of his tongue. In the silence, Thanos takes it as confirmation.

“That’s so cold. If I had her, I’d never let her out of my sight. Sheesh.”

Nam-gyu can’t even form words at all, anymore, irritation and envy wrapping tendrils around his throat and snuffing him out. Your earlier words spin through his brain like a carousel- come find me after the next game. Were you being serious? Were you just saying that to mess with him? He knows you- he knows your tone better than he even realizes, but he suddenly can’t decipher what’s honesty and what isn’t anymore. Jealousy blinds him, thick lenses leading him in all sorts of binds.

He should have talked to you. He should have made the first move and made sure the first time he was breathing your air was alone. Now he’s anxious, he’s resentful, and he’s humiliated for some reason he can’t quite place. It doesn't help when he can’t resist the urge to look at you one last time, just one for the road, and you’re chatting idly with a man lounging on the other side of the steps you’re currently sitting on. There’s a five foot gap between your bodies but Nam-gyu doesn’t care- the anger that rips through him is blind, you may as well have been fucking the man right in front of him.

It’s all he can see, tunnel vision encompassing him all the way until the moment lines start to form for lunch. Stewing in his jealousy, a bitter taste blooming over his tongue, he doesn’t jump in line because he’s got an appetite, but simply because you were rather eager to fill your belly. He tails you, matches every step and still has to jump out in front of a random player from taking the spot directly behind you.

You notice him with a fleeting look tossed over your shoulder, eyes darting from the corners of your eyes and then forward, still as a statue. Desperate to not interact.

Nam-gyu can’t help himself.

“You into Thanos?”

You audibly laugh at him, and the sound makes him shred the inside of his cheek.

“Maybe. What’s it to you?”

Everything. It’s everything to me.

You look up at him over your shoulder, watching him through your thick lashes with scorn written all over those beautiful irises. There’s a flash image of you- a memory, tangled between the bedsheets, looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes and tear stained cheeks with his hand wrapped around your throat. It’s quick but it hits him like a sucker punch right to the gut. He sucks in a sharp breath. He wants to touch you- he almost does, but the line moves forward a beat and you’re moving with it away from his hesitating fingers.

“I’m just asking.” He’s trying to be coy, but you can see right through him.

“You worried, Nam-gyu?”

That hits him like a sucker punch too. He’d forgotten how his name sounded on your tongue, how it rolled off so perfect and pretty even when you were pissed at him. Sometimes specifically when you were pissed at him, this bubbling anticipation running through him in waves, your passion always the spark lighting the fire in his belly.

“I’m not worried.”

“You are.” Clocked him, again. Peered into the windows of him and saw that angry ocean of spite and regret behind his eyes. “I know you are. I can see it on you.”

“Not worried.” Nam-gyu shrugs, but he can’t meet your eyes anymore.

Another sigh ghosts from your lips, but it’s quieter, defeated, almost.

“I’m not interested in your friend. I’m not interested in anyone.”

And then, he says it. Quietly, as if he doesn’t want you to truly hear.

“...You seemed interested.”

“So you are worried.” You’re crossing your arms and he stares down into your hair, shoving his hands into his pockets. “What if I was? You clearly had nothing to say about it. You were right there- you didn’t tell him we had history? Or did I mean that little to you?”

You’re mad. Holy shit, you’re still so mad at him. But then his brain scrambles to tell him the good side of things- anger is not indifference. So in some ways, maybe more than others, he’s still in that little dome of yours ratting around amongst your thoughts. Means that if he does this right, it would mean something to you to be better this time.

His lips press into a tight line. He should have talked to you, and now it’s biting him in the ass. It seemed like everything always bit him in the end. And he always let it happen, watched and never interfered. You drive the nail you’d plunged into him even deeper when you throw his words, from all those years ago, right back in his face. That last thing he had said to you before you, or the idea of you, had become a black hole.

“You know what, Nam-gyu? What was it you had said? Oh- uh, why don’t you focus on yourself and I’ll focus on me, yeah?”

It stings. It stings so bad that he physically recoils from the sound of his voice on your tongue, words spilling that just don’t seem right coming from you. Bitter resentment rises in his throat, this reflexive coping mechanism to bite back overtaking his senses. He wants to say I shouldn’t have said that. He wants to say, hear me out. But what ends up leaving him is just as ugly as the rest of his feelings.

“Jesus. You’re still a bitch.”

The very instance those words tumble from him, he’s already regretting it with every fiber of his being. Even more so when you pluck your bento box from the guard and spin on your heels to glare absolute daggers into the very pits of his soul.

“Get over yourself. I’m glad we had this talk, it was very refreshing.”

This time he does jump to stop you, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. “Just listen-”

“No.”

He doesn’t hide the way he watches you scamper off to your little ledge, hopping up onto your bed and enjoying your vantage point above all else, focusing on your meal. The man you’d been chatting with earlier is in the bed next to yours and that’s just fucking great. The guard has to pry his stare off of you, and a bento box is practically shoved into his chest, urging him out of line.

Nam-gyu hates the stone anchoring in his guts. Almost as much as he hates how his appetite never quite returned. All food tasted the same when you left, nothing compared to what you’d used to make him.

The bento box was no different.

That night, sleep avoided him. There was something keeping him awake- buzzing under his skin no matter how many times he’d rolled over and shifted himself into a new position. Of course he knew what it was- it never really left him, after all. The fact of knowing you were across the room, all alone in your bed, was this incessant knock in the back of his skull tapping him back into reality whenever he found himself comfortable enough to doze off. His mind was stuck on you, as always, wondering what you looked like right now.

Did you sleep the same as before? Laying on your side, hair messed over the sides of your face and splayed over the pillow, those heavy lashes of yours kissing along the bone of your cheeks. He always told himself that it was you who was attached, that he was some great being and you simply touched the stars through him. How wrong he had been to think that, when the entire time he’d fit so perfectly against you, he a piece to your puzzle.

How wrong he had been, because when he’s staring up idly at the ceiling, he thinks of the better days in his life. Always, always, it was you. Thinking of you sitting pretty in his passenger seat, watching out the window as the world blurred by in rushes. The wind blowing through your hair, your necklace catching the glint of the sun. You’d feel his eyes on you and you'd turn and smile at him so darling, so lovely, that he thought it could heal. Remembering when you’d walk into a room, shining like a beacon just for him. You’d find his lap, find his hair, find his lips against your own and you’d cry his name like a prayer.

He was an idiot to have thought he was the something in the nothing- it was you.

Even when he finally drifted off into sleep were you still infecting the very membrane of his mind. In his dreams, you were just as warm as you had always been. Bated breaths, hanging onto every word that left his lips, fingers that longed to touch and stroke and feel. His heart slowed to a peaceful beat, and his body curled into his pillow and blanket, trying to recreate the shape of you in his arms. For a time that evening, it worked.

But then he woke up, and Thanos was leaning over his bed asking him if he was dead, and all those wonderful moments he’d relived were gone in a rush of bright lights and endless chatter bouncing off the walls of the dormitory. Like an addiction, the first thing he thought of when he sat up, was you. Thought about you all the way through the winding staircases and into a giant room with rainbow’s painted over the hard floor. So lost in thought that he almost misses it when the speaker starts instructing them- a 5 player minigame race.

Teams of five. Okay, he could do that. Easy. Gyeong-su, him, Thanos. That was already three.

It’s natural instinct when he starts to search for you in the bubble of people, his fourth member, even though he’s more than sure you’re all too excited to send him packing. The way you had looked at him at dinner the day before, he wasn’t sure if you’d even entertain a conversation with him at all, let alone join their team. But this is beyond an argument- beyond him trying and failing to lull you in, this is life and death.

“Hey, there’s your girl again.” Thanos spots you first. He follows Thanos’s line of sight and sure enough, there you are, standing with your hands shoved into your pockets with this far away expression he can’t quite read.

His girl. It would make him shiver, if he wasn’t already on the brink of tweaking.

“Let’s go see if she’s changed her mind.”

Thanos is running his hands through his hair and popping the collar of his tracksuit, a particular bounce to his step when he bounds right for you. Just as the first time, always on the lookout for yourself, you spot him coming before he gets to you. Already you’re annoyed.

By the time Nam-gyu slithers up beside him, you’re already turning Thanos’s first wave of advancements down, a snark to your tone and a glint in your eyes.

“I’m good, thanks though.”

Thanos blinks, looks left and then right. “You’re good? I don’t see a team?”

“I’ll find one.”

“You got one right here,” He pats his chest again, before he slings his arm over Nam-gyu’s shoulder haphazardly. “Come on. You’ll be safe.”

The intensity in which you roll your eyes is fierce- an expression Nam-gyu really had only thought he could draw out of you. To make matters worse for his friend, you don’t even bother with saying no again. Instead you merely wave a dismissive hand and turn on your heels, meandering into the crowd.

“You were right, Nam-su.” Thanos’s face drops and he unwinds his arm from Nam-gyu’s shoulder. “Not getting anywhere with that one.”

Nam-gyu is so focused watching you, that all he murmurs is, “It’s Nam-gyu.”

“Yeah. Nam-su, Nam-gyu. Look over there.” He has to force himself to look away, following Thanos’s point in the other direction you’d gone. A girl with short black hair stands off to the side, eyes traveling and sizing up all her potential team mates. Thanos pops his collar again, a hound dog chasing a brand new scent. “Let’s go see what she’s up to.”

For the first time, Nam-gyu doesn’t follow him. He says, you go, you go, and lets Thanos wind himself up all on his own before watching him go. He’s much more concerned with you and your team, this sense of anxiety starting to bud in his gut.

He finds you like a moth to flame. Your shoulders slump at the sight of him, tired and irked.

“Not this again.” You groan. “What, do you think you’re gonna come sweeten me up and I’ll say yes? I’m not playing on your damn team.”

Nam-gyu shakes his head and steps in front of you when you try to turn away again. His nerves are on the rise, and so is his temper. You draw it out of him like nothing else, he can’t stop himself.

“Why not?” He asks, looking down at you with furrowed brows. You cross your arms, barring yourself from him.

“Because I’m not.”

“This is no time to be stubborn. You don’t know what the next game is. You might need guys on your team.”

“I plan on it. There’s other men here other than you and whatever the hell his name is.”

Other men. Nam-gyu’s mouth dries up, his fingers already wringing in his sleeves. His jaw tenses with his temper, teeth grinding.

You didn’t need other men, not when he would do anything under the sun to keep you safe. Anyone else may just let you die. Can’t you see that?

“Why are you being-... Being like-...” He stops himself. Holy shit, his brain actually fires off the warning shot and he stops dead in his tracks staring at you in bewilderment. You adopt this expectant glare, a spiteful uptick to your lips that darkens your eyes.

“Say it.” You sneer. “Go ahead, say it. I’m being a bitch, right?”

The word fights against his lips to get out. You’re waiting for it, at the edge of your seat, fully ready to take it in and chew it up and spit it out right back at him. But he bites it back and he swallows it down into his chest because this means something to him. Because it might mean something to you.

“Being like this.” He stammers. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”

Your eyes widen just a fraction. “Keep me alive?”

“Can you really trust anyone here? You know me.”

“I do know you.” A flash of something provoked and somber rivets within your eyes. Anger mounting, your heart colliding with your brain in real time right before him. “That’s exactly why I won’t be on your side.”

If he’d had his foot in the door before, you were properly shoving it back outside. He doesn't know what to do, so he does the first thing he can think of as a creature of impulse, and unfortunately when it came to you that meant he was all hands.

“Wait-” He catches you just as you’re turning away, tries to bulldoze over your defiance and smooth out all the harsh edges of your protests with the broad flats of his palms. Fingers clutching your tracksuit at your shoulders and then he’s realizing that he’s touching you for the first time in years. Your skin from underneath your jacket is just as warm he remembers, your eyes are just as doe-like at his touch too. Stubborn and ornery but overflowing with passion and static energy that settled into his bones. He needs it, he needs it. The obsession of you hits him in waves of yearn.

He needs you more than air, he thinks.

“Get your hands off of me, right now.” But you aren’t tearing him away- so maybe that’s progress.

“Come on.” He ducks his head, shoulders slumping, and it physically hurts him to feel this desperate. “Stay with me.”

Oh, you don’t like those words one bit. They hit your eardrums and your eyes narrow in slits, and then yeah, you’re reaching up and catching his wrists in his iron grip before ripping his paws off your jacket. It takes a long moment for you to speak, but when you do, he swears he can hear the devil amidst the heartache.

“You know that I can’t stay with you. Never again.”

His hands twitch to touch you again- anything to keep you there for a moment longer.

“Come on.”

Sadness like pits swirl in your eyes, drags your lips into a frown. “You gotta’ stop Nam-gyu. I can’t do it.”

An awful, awful mass grows in his stomach when you turn your back on him. Gets bigger with every inch you build between you and him, threatens to take over entirely and swallow him whole right in the middle of that room. If it did, and he was to be gulped up by the void, perhaps he wouldn't have to feel like this any longer. And he wouldn’t have to watch you disappear behind all the moving bodies.

He was weaker than he was three years ago. You made him weaker. Back then, if you’d been so sure of yourself he found it rather easy to deter you. A beastly way about him when he would have just ripped you by the hand and brought you over to his team and made you sit the hell down and just stay with him. Something possessive, something under his skin at the thought of you sharing the same air as anyone other than him. You used to be so malleable in his hands- but he knows, now more than ever, that that was truly never the case. You let yourself be pliable. You let yourself fall to him. He could never, not even now, make you do anything. Not really.

That’s the part that burns him to the peaks of his soul. That strength about you. You’re so much stronger than him, with an energy iron so it’s like running headfirst into a wall when you’d no longer graced him with your softness. Such a double edged sword, that will of yours. That attitude and the passion made him feel alive. Cold and disposed after you’d properly slammed the gate right in his face. No leverage, no space for him in your heart any longer.

It’s cold, Nam-gyu finds. Lonely without you.

And then Thanos goes and invites some random girl with a poor attitude (that isn’t yours) and an even weaker buddy. He tries to tell him- remind his friend of the potential disadvantage but like always all it took was a dismissive wave to get him to screw his lips shut. Rolled over, tongue caught in his throat, weakened.

He spends a majority of his time waiting for his teams turn arguing with Se-mi and tossing gazes over his shoulder to keep a very keen eye on you, only to find a sneer growing on his features after seeing you chatting with the same player as earlier, the man with the bed next to yours. Laughter and smiles roll from your lips as natural as breathing air, and he’s nudging you with his arm and you’re letting him with this expression of pure amusement.

That should be him.

That ugly face of betrayal peeks through the cracks all over again, with guilt and anger and regret following in tow close behind. Sitting on his shoulders like little devils, spinning and racing through his body in waves. If you saw his face- you’d never suspect it, but his hands shake in his lap. His jaw tenses so tightly his teeth could burst into powder. Squared shoulders and an endless drag to his lips. Something in the sight of you enjoying that guys presence is reminding him of all these shitty feelings he’d been faced with when you two were together- well, no, not together, he remembers- and then he’s even angrier. Angry at you, angry at that random ass player you were talking up, angry at himself for letting it get here in the first place.

Thanos pops open his necklace beside him and draws a fun little pill from its contents, and Nam-gyu makes it a mission to get his hands on one of those sweet little pick-me-ups. The pill is bitter on his tongue but he swallows it down in delight. And it works, too, because the moment the colors start to glow and fuse together and all sounds become this echoing fishbowl of noises, you’re vacated from the corners of his fuzzy mind. For a time, he’s at peace all over again, lost in the blurry joy.

By the time he comes down, he’s already back in the dormitory.

Though it takes a moment for him to realize it, he’s taking inventory of all the surviving players. One by one, watching them fill the room and find their creaky beds or their little groups. Most were distraught, though some were particularly perturbed. It takes a couple teams before he understands that what he’s really looking for, naturally, is you. He’s always searching for you, even when he knew you weren’t searching for him back.

That’s the change, and it dawns on him like a rapture. He’d never had to care before- you were always this constant in his life, something that would always bounce right back if he tossed you aside. He didn’t give a damn if it upset you, he didn’t give a damn if it ate away at you like termites through wood. But now he does, and he gives so many damn’s they’re driving him crazy.

Any moment spent sober and lucid were moments entirely taken up by you.

Any moment now you’ll come strutting through those doors, head held high and gunning it to make sure Nam-gyu knew exactly how much you didn’t need him.

But then ten teams turn into twenty, and twenty five into thirty.

“How many teams were there?” Nam-gyu asks with a voice steadier than even he expected. Thanos doesn’t need to question anything, watching the doorway all the same.

“Fifty-six.” Se-mi hums from her spot, leaning back against the steps.

Thirty eventually turns to fifty.

Too much time has passed, and you’ve still yet to pop out through that doorway. He double checks those who’d already shown their faces, hoping to find you through the cracks of them, but you’re simply not there. There’s a shovel digging pits and moats into his stomach. Another wave of players trickles in and he scans them all over the same, only to feel that hollowness inside him grow once more. They saunter to their beds, to their little groups, taking up space and taking up air that should belong to you.

Where the hell were you?

“Only two teams left,” Thanos hums. “Where’s that girl of yours?”

Nam-gyu can’t force himself to answer this time around. So, instead, he presses his nails between his teeth and nervously shifts his weight from left to right. Though he shrugs, the anxiety within him was palpable, all lines and tension that he tried to bury with nonchalance. But it wasn’t working, and felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside out.

Mind racing, thoughts circling him like birds over fresh kill. The final team walks through the doorway, slow as zombies, shifty eyed and hurriedly rushing to their beds. His eyes sit on the door, waiting, waiting.

No one comes through.

His shoulders fall limp.

You didn’t make it.

“That’s a shame.” Se-mi sighs, the sound swimming in Nam-gyu’s ears.

Loss, real loss was a foreign feeling within his chest. He’d seen it described in the movies, in songs, this soul eating all consuming weight that blanketed over bodies and crushed, but nothing could have ever prepared for the blistering moment it wrenches itself within the confines of his heart, within the deep ache of his bones. It didn’t settle properly in his throat- his body trying to force the alien ripple of dread stitching itself right between his ribs. It hurts- his lungs can’t take in air. His breath wheezes past his lips in shallow pants, unable to tear his eyes away, like at any moment you’ll suddenly materialize right before him.

He presses his lip into a tight line and digs his nails into his palms, anything to release a fraction of the agony festering within his body.

Brain on fire, shaking hands and the image of you dead in a thousand different flashes, a sting to his waterlines that has him scrambling to shove his fingers against the thin skin.

Don’t fucking cry. Don’t fucking cry.

“Bad luck. Sorry, boy.”

All the skin on his body has flushed red and sticky. He ducks his head down towards his lap, desperate to hide within himself, even more desperate to hide this part of himself from the watchful eyes of his group. He should have just made you join them. Should have thrown you over his shoulder and wrapped an immovable grasp around your arm and held you hostage until everyone had a team and then you’d have no one else to turn to. No one else, nothing else except for him.

He can’t even hear his friend’s counterfeit empathy over the swell of his heartbeat in his ears. His body is too heavy to hold up, his arms dragging as lead, his head even heavier on his shoulders. Uncanny urges to tear at the skin of his face overcome him and he has to bury them into his hair in release, roughly running his digits through the black locks, trying to breathe and breathe and breathe. A lump the size of a boulder burrows into his throat.

Cracking his eyes open to peek down at his lip, squeezing them shut when his vision is wet and blurry. His lower lip trembles until it’s caught in his teeth, biting hard into the skin.

Don't fucking cry.

Why did you have to be so stubborn? If you’d have just let him take care of you this one fucking time, you would be alive right now. You should be alive right now- pissed and glaring fury in his direction but breathing and taking up space and existing-

“Ah, they made it. Here I thought they were all goners.”

Se-mi’s casual tone barely reaches him, but it’s got him frantically flicking his gaze back up to the archway, his hands falling from his face, trying to see through the blotches in his sight. A handful of players take soft steps into the room, all shaken up, all bewildered.

There you are. His racing heart stops entirely.

You’re sauntering into the dormitory like a wounded animal, all hands wringing out in front of you and lines drawn into your frown. For the first time, in Nam-gyu’s eyes, you look small. Frightened. Every step you take has a weight to it he’s never witnessed you bear. And even from across the room, even with rigid tears trapped in the corners of his eyes, he can see the grip of fear on the flat of your throat.

All those jumping thoughts settle into a tunnel vision, you at the epicenter of his quaking nerves simmering down into stillness. He forgets how his chest had twisted as if a knife had been planted between his collarbones, and he forgets how he had almost lost his lunch right there on the floor. All because you’re standing there in the middle of the room hugging yourself, white as a ghost, even paler when you lift your head up and see the way Nam-gyu is trapped in your line of sight.

Nam-gyu see’s it. No hate, no dejection.

Relief- this instant where your widened eyes soften, your frown lifts into a slack-jawed breath of solace. It rocks his world when it hits him and it lights a flame so hot under his skin it’s burning through his veins. All the air trapped in his lungs leaves him at once and he can pinpoint the exact moment all the tensions in his shoulders and back melt away in nothingness. The tears dry, his lower lip released from his gnashing teeth.

The man you’d joined earlier pats your shoulder and offers you a pathetic, wavering thumbs up. You can’t seem to return his dull enthusiasm. In fact, you look worse than Nam-gyu’s seen you thus far. Changed, all wires sticking exposed and sparking. There’s this lifelessness to your body when you climb up the stairs and have to heave yourself up into your bed, crossing your legs and resting your chin on your palms propped up over your knees.

When your eyes meet his, he expects some sort of sign of contempt, or perhaps maybe you’d refuse to meet his gaze entirely. Instead, for the first time since you’d arrived, you find him first.

You offer him a pitiful open palmed wave.

The pearly gates crack open and Nam-gyu feels it again- warmth. Even just a little bit, like lighting a match in a snowstorm, huddling around the flame. He half cocks a smile, and he waves back.

Lunch came quicker than he’d anticipated, and much to Nam-gyu’s dismay, you weren’t exactly thrilled to hop into line. In fact, ever since you’d let him jam his fingers back into your closing door, you’d hardly acknowledged anything other than your lap. Even more so upsetting, that player you hung around tapped your mattress to gather your attention, pointing to the line, sighing in defeat when you’d shook your head.

Jealousy seeps into his wounds all over again, quiet, but equally as simmering. Don’t act like you know her. Little devils tapping away at his psyche. She doesn't need you to check up on her.

But then again, he realizes, maybe you do.

His mouth dries when the sound of his thoughts footsteps come running up on him. His greed. His innate ability to leave you unchecked and grappling. That was among the sea of problems Nam-gyu had been struggling to grasp. Here he was, trying to drag you back into the tar pits of his hold and he hadn’t even tried the basics of kindness. The step one of it all. Always taking, taking, taking and demanding more at every swipe. Always expecting, never building.

So he jumps into line before he can second guess himself, and he takes his bento box with a grateful nod and he doesn’t waste a second before he’s chasing the trail of you to your bed. From your high point, perched and unmoving, all he can do is climb the stairs and rest his hands over the corner of your mattress. Your far away gaze lifts from your lap and settles down to him.

The air is different. The landscape of you has changed.

“What is it.” Your tone is uncannily flat, but it’s void of its bite, its drive.

“Can I come up?”

It’s a simple request, but it leaves a shake at the end of his sentence. It’s only natural when he mentally prepares himself for you to slap no onto his forehead, but you scoot over, and he takes the spot so quickly you wouldn’t even have the chance to say no if you thought about it too much. He hoists himself up and over, fills the gap at your side, just as he should have done days ago. He sits the bento box at the crest of your lap.

“What’s this?” Blinking down at the food, you make no effort to pick it up.

“Fish and rice.” Nam-gyu shrugs. “Looks like an egg, too.”

“I can see that. I meant, what are you doing giving me this?”

“...You didn’t get anything.”

As your fingers gingerly touch the container, eyes scanning over the contents, Nam-gyu feels he can breathe easier. This is a win for him- you aren’t fighting him anymore. Still on the edge, always ready to run, but the look in your eyes isn’t pure hatred or outright hurt. A swell of pride overcomes him when you pluck the chopstick and murmur, thank you.

You’re pliable. Now, more than ever.

You eat in silence. He lets you eat in silence, even though peace isn’t exactly one of his virtues. Partly because he doesn’t know what to say to you, but mostly because he’s got this innate fear that he’s going to say something shitty and you’re going to hate him all over again for it. A million words are always shoving and pushing against his lips and he fumbles with navigating them. So, silence, it is.

But it doesn’t bother him. Silence meant that you were simply just there, existing, the one thing he had longed for over the years. He knew, deep in his heart, he’d fucked up when he began to miss the very presence of you. No sex, no drugs, no push or pull, just you. And now he gets to take whatever you’ll give in micro doses, greedy and starved for you. Fighting the urge to pull you into himself where you could never climb out. He refrains- he forces himself to just be there.

No longer could he be the creature he had been all those years ago. He had to be different- not all rough edges and clawing hands, ripping and taking. Or dark eyes watching your every move, or jagged words cutting your flesh with the highs and lows of his tone. Something better, this time. Something for you.

Tomorrow would be a new beast entirely. And, in less than a few hours, the lights would flicker off and bask the dormitory into hues of red and blues. You would lay alone in your all-too-large bed and he would sink into his mattress drugged out of his mind thinking countless thoughts of you, you, you. The distance would feel like miles- he needed you right there, right then, always. Anything other than what he had sitting beside you was a vast ocean.

The bento box appears in front of his lap, half eaten.

“You’re not going to eat it?” Nam-gyu’s brows knit.

“You should eat, too. What, scared of my germs now?” You murmur, and when he meets your eyeline, he sees something familiar in those hues. Something nurturing, sweet. Tender.

Nam-gyu picks up the chopsticks, and he eats. For the first time in years, his food tastes like food.

#squid game #namgyu x reader #nam-gyu x reader #angst #imagine #nam gyu x reader #nam gyu squid game #player 124

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slaytheusurper · 1 day ago

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⭑ Parthenos ⭑ (Domina Mea, Chapter Five)

Masterlist

A/N: I got really frustrated that I didn't seem to write to flow of sentences that well and experimented with Grammerly (as english is not my first language) and it ended up amazing and just how I see it in my head, so yes it is still written and made up by me but without mistakes and with better wording. Enjoy!

Pairing: Emperor Geta & Caracalla x Noble!Reader

Warnings: Angst, angst and some angst, Acacius and Lucilla get reader into big trouble, Macrinus is just a fucking rat one again, hopefully more historically accurate?

Summary: The insurrection has been revealed...

Word count: 3.3k

The silk fabric of your garment was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the night before. For a moment, you lingered in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness, but as your senses sharpened, reality settled in. The space beside you was empty. The warmth of their bodies, their presence- gone.

Sunlight streamed through the open windows, casting golden streaks across the now more familiar chamber of your fathers estate. Had it been a dream? No. The ache in your limbs, the faint traces of their scent on your skin- it had been real. Finally they had taken you and you knew there was no going back, neither for them as for you.

Lazing around in bed all day would not help your state of mind, so you decided to rise from your bed and leave your chambers. After having searched for your servant, she helped you prepare for the day. Even though you did not know what the sunny day would bring, you hoped it would involve the Emperors. Your heart was already aching for their touch.

Later, you found yourself in the solar, still no invitation from the Emperors. The fine thread slid between your fingers as the spindle hummed softly while you worked. This fine art required focus but yet you could not put your mind to it. Weaving was also supposed to calm the mind but it was not able to put yours to rest.

All you could think about was them, anxiety ever growing as the day went by far too quickly. Why had they not invited you? Did something happen? Had Macrinus somehow gotten to them- A sharp snap pulled you from your thoughts. The thread had broken, once again. The attendant hesitated before speaking, sensing your tension. “Shall I fetch new thread? My lady?” She asked.

“Yes.” You exhaled, it would be a long wait.

The damp air of the Colosseum’s underground cells clung to General Acacius like a second skin, thick with the stench of sweat, decay, and something more rancid he dared not name. Torchlight flickered against the stone walls, casting long shadows that made the passage feel like it was breathing- watching.

His boots pressed against the uneven ground, the squelch of filth punctuating each step. Water dripped from above, forming small puddles that rippled as he and his men passed through. He refused to consider what mixed with the water beneath his feet. The dungeons of the Colosseum were a place of suffering- forgotten men left to rot, their fates determined by the will of the crowd and the cruelty of the arena.

A sickly cough echoed from one of the cells, followed by a weak groan. A pair of beady eyes stared at him from the darkness- a rat, large and bloated, scurrying over the outstretched hand of a prisoner too weak to swat it away. Acacius barely spared the man a glance.

Lucilla had told him Lucius would be in a newer cell, all the way at the back. That meant he had much ground to cover before reaching his goal. Yet, as he treaded deeper into the halls of suffering, an unease swirled in his gut. There were no guards. Why did it seem so easy?

The absence of Praetorians gnawed at him, setting his instincts on edge. This place should have been swarming with them- watching, waiting. Instead, there was nothing but the soft footsteps of his men, their presence barely disturbing the silence. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, the rough leather grounding him.

As he turned corner upon corner, the walls seemed to narrow, the shadows growing denser, as though the Colosseum itself wanted to swallow him whole. He could feel it now- his goal was close. The weight of his mission pressed against his ribs, the danger of what he was about to do tightening around his throat.

If the Emperors discovered him before he secured the gladiator, all would be lost- his wife, his future, his life. And worse, so would his daughter. Everything he did was for her. Every betrayal, every secret, every risk. And she didn’t even realize it.

It was when the General turned the last corner, followed closely by his men, that his life went up in flames. A sudden sharp whistle sliced the air, followed by the familiar thud of an arrow hitting its target. He had no time to react as his loyal soldiers crumbled to the ground, his heart rose to his throat. The weight of his failure almost made him sink to the floor himself.

He recognised the man that stepped out of the shadows, Praetorians surrounding him as they demanded his surrender. The commander pointed the tip of his sword at Acacius, daring him to act now, but the General couldn’t. He then felt how the cold metal swiftly graced his forehead, before his face was revealed, and his hood had fallen from his head.

Acacius knew, all was lost.

Night had long since fallen over the estate, the halls silent and dead. Still, no invitation had come. The flickering torches in the corridors had burned low, their golden glow reduced to embers. Even Lucilla had surrendered to the late hour, retreating to her chambers with a soft goodnight. Alone, you sat by the window, eyes fixed on the stars in the black sky, waiting. Hoping.

But hope had stretched thin. It was time to give up. With a quiet sigh, you rose and slouched towards your bed. But sleep did not come easily. You tossed, turned, thoughts circling like a vicious cycle in the dark. Had you misread the signs? Had they simply forgotten you? Or worse- had they already grown bored of you? At last, exhaustion weighed down your limbs, and you drifted into uneasy slumber.

The pounding at your chamber door shattered the stillness.

You jolted upright, heart thumping against your ribs as the sound echoed through the room. Disoriented, you turned toward the window. The moon was still high, shining over the estate grounds. How long had you slept? Minutes? Hours?

Then came a voice- sharp, authoritative, and unmistakably male.

"My lady, open the door! By order of the Emperors Geta and Caracalla!"

The words sent a shiver down your spine. Your pulse quickened as you climbed out of bed, bare feet meeting the cold marble floor. Confusion and dread tangled in your chest as you reached for the door, fingers hesitating on the handle. What could they possibly want at this hour?

With a slow breath, you pulled it open.

A wave of torchlight flooded in, momentarily blinding you. When your vision adjusted, you were met with the gleaming helmets and rough faces of at least twenty Praetorian guards, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. The man at the front stood rigid, eyes cold and unforgiving. But it wasn’t the soldiers that made your blood run cold.

It was Lucilla. She stood among them, shackled, her wrists bound in iron, her usually neat hair disheveled. Her eyes tired, red-rimmed, locked onto yours, pleading.

Then the soldier before you spoke.

"My lady, you are under arrest for conspiracy as well as treachery against the Empire and the Emperor's themselves. Go with us willingly, and we won’t have to hurt you."

The words struck like a blow. Lucilla stirred among the almost statue like Praetorians, her voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “My daughter is no part of this, I beg of you, leave her here. She did not know about this, she is innocent.” Lucillas words widened your tired eyes.

But the soldier made it abundantly clear that he did not believe her. He grabbed your arms and pulled you with him, another man joined your wrists together by binding them with shackles, pulling a gasp from you. It was a grim scene, as both you and Lucilla left the estate as prisoners.

They had seized you from the estate like a common criminal.

There had been no time to fetch shoes, no chance to wrap yourself in proper attire. The Praetorians had no mercy for a lady once cherished, now condemned. Your protests had fallen on deaf ears, your dignitas reduced to nothing beneath their grip. Even Lucilla, had been torn from your side, the two of you put into separate carriages as if mere slaves.

Tears traced down your cheeks, vanishing into the thin fabric of your night toga. What had you done to deserve this? The journey was long, the carriage rattling over the uneven roads as you stared into the endless void of the night, lost in the uncertainty of what awaited you.

When at last the carriage reached Palatine Hill, another arrived as well- though from a different direction. You barely had a moment to register its presence before rough hands yanked you forward.

Gone was the courtesy once reserved for a lady of noble blood. Gone was the deference meant for a woman who had once held the favor of emperors. You hit the ground with a wince, your bare feet meeting the coarse, cold sand outside the palace steps. The night air blew over your exposed skin, you shivered, but not from the cold.

A flicker of movement caught your eye- your father. His gaze met yours across the courtyard, his lips parting as if to speak, to offer some explanation, some reassurance. But no words came. None were allowed.

Before you could reach for him, he was dragged up the steps, his towering form no match for the forceful hands of the Praetorians. Neither you nor Lucilla escaped justice, your shackles rattling as you were urged forward.

Your head throbbed from the night’s torment, your eyes raw from endless tears. You longed for answers, for assurance, for someone to tell you this was all a mistake. But the palace offered no such comfort.

Only the muffled shuffle of footsteps and the soft sniffles escaping your trembling lips disturbed the silence of the grand halls. The familiar path you walked sent a fresh wave of dread washing over you.

The throne room.

You had walked this path before, though never like this. Never with chains biting into your wrists, never with your very existence reduced to something so... insignificant. With every step, the weight of betrayal pressed deeper into your chest. A betrayal you did not commit. A crime you did not even understand.

And yet, here you were. Helpless. Small. Forgotten by those who once claimed to care. The golden doors loomed ahead, the flickering torchlight painting shadows against their towering frame. Beyond them lay judgment, mercy, or death. You could only hope the Emperors would believe you, but believe what exactly?

The towering golden doors groaned open, their weight echoing through the throne room. Cold hands shoved you forward, forcing you to step further onto the icy marble floor. Lucilla moved beside you, her chains rattling softly with each step as you both shuffled inside.

The room was eerily silent.

The Emperors had not yet arrived, and that only made the dread coil tighter in your stomach. Your own heartbeat pounded in your ears as your eyes flickered over the grand chamber- the towering columns, the burning braziers. The high ceiling that made you feel even smaller.

Then your gaze landed on him.

Macrinus.

A sickening wave of nausea clawed its way up your throat as you found him lounging on one of the lectus’, draped in smug satisfaction. His gaze met yours briefly before shifting away, as if you were beneath his notice. But it wasn’t just him. Next to him sat the man from that night.

You tore your eyes away, fixing them to the ground, swallowing hard against the bile rising in your throat. And then- footsteps. Distant at first, but growing louder. Your breath hitched as dark forms moved between the marble pillars, shifting in and out of the flickering torchlight. You knew who it was before you could fully see them. Their presence was unmistakable.

The emperors.

When they finally stepped into view, a sharp gasp escaped Geta’s lips. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet their eyes. You stared at the cold floor beneath your bare feet, your heart hammering as silence stretched between you all.

Geta opened his mouth to speak but hesitated, his breath uneven. The silence was unbearable, you forced yourself to look up. Geta stood before you in a deep crimson robe embroidered with gold, his curls wild, his expression heartbroken. His eyes- red-rimmed, glassy- searched your face as though he could pull the truth from your form.

And then there was Caracalla.

His white toga mirrored your own, the contrast stark against the heavy shadows in his face. His chest rose and fell with uneven, heavy breaths, his eyes brimming with fury and betrayal.

“Thanks to the civic virtue of men like Thraex and Macrinus, your insurrection,” Geta’s voice cracked, “has been revealed. The honor, the dignitas that Rome has bestowed upon you, all of it you have forfeited by your treachery-”

“Your Majesty, please,” a voice interrupted.

Acacius.

Your father’s voice was strained, raw with desperation. “My daughter has nothing to do with this. She is innocent. She had no knowledge of tonight’s events- I am uncertain if she even knows now what has taken place.”

Your red-rimmed eyes locked with Geta’s teary ones, and for a moment, neither of you moved. You wanted to scream, to demand answers, to plead for your innocence. But before you could find the words, Geta spoke again.

“Macrinus told me something entirely different.” Geta’s voice hardened, his sorrow giving way to suspicion. He turned his gaze to Acacius, his fingers curling into fists. “He told me that you saw an opportunity to throw your daughter at us- to- to what? Distract us? So we wouldn’t find out about your little plot?” His voice twisted with disdain, the weight of betrayal thick in his tone.

The air in the room grew suffocating, the weight of their fury pressing down on you. This was not how you wanted to see them again.

“Caesar, I swear I had no knowledge of this plan,” you cried, your voice breaking with each word. “Nor do I even know the full extent of it now. Truly- I don’t even know why we are here.” Your voice was desperate, trembling with the fear that if they did not believe you now, there would be no hope left.

Caracalla stepped forward, his face burning with rage, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Why should we believe you?” he shouted, his voice shaking. “You are the daughter of a traitor!” His words burned through you, the hurt in his eyes far more painful than his accusations.

“No- no, please!” You stumbled forward, your chains clinking together as you dropped to your knees. “I will do anything! I’ll do anything to prove to you that I am loyal! I would never betray you- or the Empire!” Your sobs shook your frame, your voice barely above a whisper by the end.

Geta stared at you, something in his expression shifting. Doubt flickered in his eyes. He wanted to believe you. He needed to believe you. But justice conflicted with love. His gaze snapped to Macrinus, his jaw tightening.

“You were the one to bring this news to me,” Geta said, his voice unsteady. “What do you say, Macrinus?”

Macrinus barely glanced at you before stepping forward, leaning into Geta’s ear. His lips moved in a slow murmur, his voice just soft enough to remain unheard. Even Caracalla strained to listen, his fists clenching at his sides.

When Macrinus stepped back, Geta hesitated for only a heartbeat before straightening. His expression was unreadable.

Then-

“Take the General and Lady Lucilla to the cells.”

The words fell like a blade. Lucilla tensed behind you. Acacius’ ragged breathing filled the room, his entire body coiled in resistance as the Praetorians closed in. The guards hesitated. For a brief moment, there was uncertainty in their movements.

But Geta’s command was law. Hands seized Acacius and Lucilla, dragging them away as their protests died against the cold walls. Still on your knees, you were at their mercy as tears escaped you once again. “Get out.” Caracalla snapped, his eyes focusing on Macrinus. The man simply bowed and was followed by Threax as he left the dark room.

Your knees ache against the hard marble, the cold seeping into your skin. Your body trembled- not just from the chill that clung to your half bare skin, but from the uncertainty that clawed at your chest.

Then came warmth. A touch, too sudden, too intimate. You flinched as Geta’s fingers brushed against your arm, his hand reaching for you with something that felt like desperation. You jerked away instinctively, your breath catching in your throat.

“Stand.”

His voice was quiet, almost gentle. But there was no room for defiance.

Your legs felt stiff as you pushed yourself up, your bare feet settling against the polished marble once more. You tried to ground yourself on the ground beneath you, but it did nothing to still the quiver in your limbs.

A shift in the room- Caracalla’s gaze.

You could feel his eyes roaming over you, the tension in his stance tightening as he took in your disheveled state. His expression darkened when he noticed your lack of sandals, your vulnerable, exposed form before them.

“Swear to me,” Geta’s voice came suddenly. His hand found the back of your neck, his fingers curling there- not forceful, but firm enough to make you feel the weight of what he was asking. He pulled you closer, his breath warm against your temple.

“Swear to me that you didn’t betray us. Swear it.” Geta commanded. Tears clung to your lashes as you looked up at him, the fear in his eyes mirroring your own. Your lips trembled as you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “I swear it, Caesar, I do.”

For a moment, nothing moved. Nothing breathed.

Then Caracalla exhaled sharply, stepping away from the heavy silence that wrapped around you all. His movements were restless, his frustration bleeding into the way he paced the chamber. His fingers flexed at his sides, his teeth clenched as if trying to hold back the fury simmering beneath his skin.

“You know we cannot let you go,” Caracalla murmured, his voice low, “And we can’t let your father go.” Geta straightened, his grip on you loosening, but the weight of his presence did not. “His fate will be decided in the Colosseum.” Geta then added. Was that what Macrinus had whispered to him?

Your breath caught. You had known—somewhere, deep down, you had known. But hearing it spoken aloud made you feel like you were suffocating. “And you…” Geta continued, his voice tired. “You will remain in a chamber close to ours so we can- keep an eye on you.”

There was something unspoken in those words, something that lingered between them like an unfinished sentence. Your throat felt tight, but you nodded, your body surrendering to exhaustion. You would have to prove your loyalty.

And you had no idea how.

Taglist: @boywivlove

#gladiator 2 fanfic #gladiator ll #gladiator fanfic #gladiator ii #domina mea #domina mea fic #geta and caracalla #emperor caracalla x reader smut #emperor geta x reader smut #emperor geta x reader #emperor caracalla x reader #caracalla smut #caracalla x reader #caracalla x reader smut #geta x reader #geta x reader smut

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livmightlive · 2 days ago

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wind and hyrule warriors thoughts

Going absolutely bonkers thinking about is the Hyrule Warriors headcanon I see used sometimes where the timeline is slightly disjointed. What I mean by that is the headcanon where Wind goes to Hyrule Warriors after the LU quest but for Warriors and Time it was before their LU quest making them all meet a somehow older version of their friend first.

Like when Wind first meets Time and Warriors it’s them both as men. But when Time and Warriors first meet Wind it’s when he’s a man (or at least more grown than a child).

Anyways. As for my speculation and headcanons…

I really like the idea that Wind is about the same age as Wars when he gets pulled into the war of eras. When he meets Wars and Time he’s very surprised and kind of confused because Wars and Time had never mentioned to him that they met him during the events of LU. I think Wind would generally kind of be like “wtf.” “Why would they do that?” Etc. I imagine it would be kind of hard not to be hurt over that but at the same time it’s not like he can take out his frustrations on Wars and Time, or Link and Mask in this case because they don’t even know him. So Wind keeps it quiet that he knows them.

Wind gets over his anger (hurt) at them pretty quickly bc well, Time is an actual child so it wouldn’t be fair to be mad at him and Wars is obviously stressed. This place is a nightmare and a lot of that nightmare has been gifted personally to Wars. Wind remembers how protective Time and Wars had been to him during the events of LU. It had annoyed him at the time, but they had been great brothers, friends, and mentors to him. He decides to return the favor.

It’s difficult getting close to Wars. He’s never not busy and he’s so serious. Everything with this guy is serious. But eventually Wind breaks down his walls and is surprised when Wars starts asking Wind for advice. This is Wars’ first quest. This is Wind’s third. Wars has never managed the triforce before this, he’s never held the master sword, and he’s definitely never been in charge of this many people. When Wind came, Wars was a bit intimidated by him because Wind is obviously the better hero. He’s much more experienced than Wars and he’s even rebuilding Hyrule back in his era. Even Mask, the little hero, is more experienced than he is. I think Wars would have a crazy imposter syndrome.

Wind manages to give Wars good advice while recognizing his inferiority complex. Wind helps Wars recognize that nobody is quite as suited to lead in this era than Wars is. They soon do almost everything together. It seems like Wind almost knows Wars better than himself. He always seems to know what to say. Wars sometimes feels like Wind already knows how this is all gonna turn out. Soon they become not just brothers or comrades, but best friends. Wind also makes sure that Wars has fun. Wind is great at keeping morale up.

Wind also befriends Mask at record time. The kid is prickly at best and a biter at worst. Somehow Wind breaks down all his defenses. He’s really good at keeping up with the kid and keeping him safe while not belittling him. Wind remembers how hard Time and Wars fought to protect Wind, but it came at the price of underestimating him. He understands where they came from a lot better after seeing baby Time’s soft cheeks and short stature, but he knows better than to doubt that Time can’t hold his own in battle. Wind claims that he’s good with Mask because he’s a big brother but Wars would sooner guess witchcraft.

Wind also has a good relationship with a lot of the other people pulled from other eras. Obviously he and Tetra are close because she followed him through his portal, but there are others. Wind and Ravio get along really well. Wind claims they’ve met way back when but Wars doesn’t know how that would work as they’re from different eras. He seems to already know Marin and Midna, but they all claim they haven’t met before. They occasionally have private conversations that Wars can’t get any details about from Wind

Very guiltily, Wind is super glad that Ravio is there because Ravio remembers the events of LU so they can talk about things. At the same time, however, he’s terrified that Ravio and his brothers' friends and lovers are there. He feels a deep responsibility to keep them all safe. He becomes deeply protective of everyone around him.

Most of the time I think Wind would be kind of a breath of fresh air. He’s funny, laid back, and has a good attitude. You can rely on him to not overreact and get his work done. The only time Wind does seem to crack or panic is when one of his friends gets hurt. Maybe it’s Ravio who almost gets fatally wounded. Wind loses it, freaking out. He’s screaming about how Ravio has to go home, which makes sense. Everyone is thinking that. But then Wind starts crying about how ‘he’ will never forgive me if I can’t get him home.

Sometimes when Wind is really stressed or drunk his lips get looser. Wars is really confused one night they go out drinking when Wind casually asks “Would you tell me if I died?” Wind realizes what he said, apologizes and tells Wars to forget about it. Of course Wars doesn’t. Sometimes Wind also calls Wars well “Wars or Warriors” which is confusing. He doesn’t know where that comes from.

Wind is scared that this isn’t real, that it’s a parallel universe of some sort and these aren’t the people he knows. He’s even more scared that it is real and that he’s gonna fuck up everything. If Time dies here will he be there when the events of LU occurs? If he dies will they be as successful without Time to lead them? Very similar with Warriors. Does Legend know where Ravio is or is he sick with worry back home? Does Legend know that Marin is here??? Alive?? He wonders if Time and Wars tell Legend that she’s okay. Or is that another thing they keep to themselves? And Midna is here and she misses Twilight a lot. She asks Wind if Twilight is okay. He tells her that she is and she’s happy.

Eventually the war ends and everyone goes home.

When Wars and Time meet baby Wind they wonder if this is how he felt when he met them. I’ve seen this in a handful of fanfics and it’s so good everytime. CLASSIC BANGER.

I imagine though, that it’s like a hypothetical I often think of for myself. What if I was able to meet the childhood version of my best friends? What advice would I give them? What would I do for them? Wars and Time get to do this for real. Their big brother/best friend doesn’t remember them. And he’s a kid. So they protect him, probably too much. They teach him the same things that they taught him.

They wonder if everything is a circle. Did they teach Wind or did he teach them? It’s a paradox 😭

Huurrggggg… many thoughts….. please tell me yours

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #hyrule warriors #lu warriors #lu time #lu wind #lu headcanons

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redcherrystars · 1 day ago

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Gemstones 💎

A/n: personal Sylus hedcannon: he likes to leave shinies (jewelry, shiny trinkets, etc.) around for you like an homage to his og dragon traits 😱😱

SEND REQUESTS!!

Content listing: (700ish wc) lnds Sylus x afab reader, established relationship, reader being spoiled, loads of fluff

Your boyfriend truly is a sly crow. A cheeky bastard more or less. Going into your shared master bedroom at his mansion in the N109 zone, you find yourself unpinning your hair, kicking off your heels (your core is screaming at you), and shrugging off the red satin dress Sylus had purchased for your enjoyment.

Rifling through his side of the wardrobe, a large teeshirt of his practically sings your name, nearly leaping into your hands-it even smells like him.

Throwing on your newly acquired treasure, some sleep shorts and slippers to protect your poor toes from the cold tile floors of the kitchen, you make your way downstairs for a large glass of water and a late night snack. After a (rather filling) snack of stovetop ramen, cleaning the dishes and getting that precious glass of water, you trek back to the bedroom, only to find the bathroom light on, and hot steam emitting from the shower. It seems as though Sylus snuck right by you for an evening bathing session. You can’t help but pout briefly over the lack of invitation, but the feeling quickly recedes when you notice a small velvet box on your nightstand.

Curiosity killed the cat, as they say, and it definitely gets the better of you as you pick the box up. The navy blue velvet was soft against your fingertips, and a gasp escapes your lips when you open it.

A glittering pair of ruby earrings lay nestled in blue velvet cushion, the same deep, rich coloring as your partner’s eyes. At first, you’re befuddled. Why is this here? Why would Sylus put this here? This gift was too much-you couldn’t accept it, but you didn’t know if you should mention it at all.

And you didn’t, as Sylus crawled into bed with you, clean after his shower. You fall asleep on your back, your very large boyfriend sleeping slotted between your legs, his face pressed into your belly. His hands firmly held your waist, and he inhaled into your shirt.

—————-

3 weeks later, a copious amount of jewelry and shiny trinkets made their way into your collection. A sapphire necklace, silver shirt cuffs in the shape of a dragon, diamond and ruby bracelets, shiny silver rings, rare glittery coins-the list goes on and on. Your previously empty jewelry box was now stuffed to the brim, and you didn’t miss the twinkle in Sylus’s eyes when he saw you wearing the various new pieces he’d silently selected and gifted you.

And you hadn’t said a thing. What was there to say? But you couldn’t help but want to know why. Sure, he had all the money in the world, but why?

By the end of June, your curiosity had practically eaten you from inside and out, and you had to ask him.

You find Sylus lounging on a black settee, his reading glasses low on his nose, and a glass of whiskey in his hand as he read some…naughty book of yours. That will make for a riveting conversation later.

“Hey Sy?”

“Yes Kitten?” Those gem-like eyes watch you with almost a teasing intensity.

“Do you have…a um….explanation…for…the lil’ shinies..that have been all over the house?” You tilt your head, and Sylus just grins. Cheeky bastard.

“They’re just gifts, sweetheart.”

“Yeah but…I can’t repay that. It’s too much.” Your cheeks flush, all peachy colored.

“Sweetheart, love, these are not things to pay back. Ever. I have more money than I know what to do with—more than I could spend in a hundred lifetimes. Let me spoil you with luxury.” He sat down his glass on the side table, before standing up and walking towards you. The enigmatic man gently cups your cheeks before giving you a soft kiss, his lips gently brushing against yours. It was almost teasing. Almost.

“I like seeing my girl all dressed up in nice things.” His nose brushed against your forehead, making you giggle.

“You’re too good to me.” You murmur against his chest.

“There is no such thing.” He whispers. After all, seeing his girl covered with gems makes his heart soar.

“There is no love more pure than mine.”

#sylus x you #sylus x reader #sylus qin #l&ds sylus #sylus x mc #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus

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cyberhughes · 2 days ago

Note

Could I please get a rum & coke? #17 with Connor Bedard

cyberhughes 200 follower special ⋆ .˚

rum & coke coming up!!

prompt #17: "i can't get you out of my head."

warnings: breakups, angst angst angst

fuck sorry this one kinda hurt i think im projecting w this one guys LOL (god help me.)

prompt list

connor bedard was the love of your life.

was.

officially, you had been with him for two years, but you knew him longer than that. the two of you sharing a bond stronger than anything throughout your childhood.

it had been one year since the end of said relationship, one year since he had left you crying in front of your apartment as he walked away with your heart, and one year since you had lost your best friend and lover in one fell swoop, your twin flame.

you grieved like never before. it was almost worse than grieving someone who was dead, because he was still out there, keeping your heart captive.

you couldn't even remember what the first few weeks after the breakup were like. you had locked yourself away in your apartment, letting your entire being be consumed by sorrow.

it truly came out of nowhere, the two of you were happy. or at least, you thought you were.

"connor, what are you talking about?" your smile faltered as he stood in front of you, hands in his pockets while he stared at you with that emotionless expression he always had. "it's just not working." his words rang in your ears and you could feel the reality settle in.

your lips moved to speak but shut just as quickly. you didn't know what to say, how could you? the two of you just worked, he was your soulmate and you were his. he had seen every part of you, felt every part of you, taken every part of you. you gave him your everything,

so what the hell wasn't working?

that's the question that you had destroyed yourself over for the past year. when connor left you, he had taken a piece of your soul with him, and you weren't sure if you'd ever get it back. and so, you'd spend the rest of your life yearning for that piece, yearning for him.

while you were together he was always on your mind of course, but now it felt as if he had taken over you, your thoughts consumed by nothing more than him. you could only think of the sound of his comforting voice, which was now starting to fade away. you could only think of the way his smile could make your heart melt in an instant. you could only think of the way his lips molded to yours as he kissed you. it was like he had left a poison in you when he left, ensuring that he would be the only one you'd ever love.

it wasn't healthy, is what your friends told you. it wasn't healthy to still be hung up on your ex boyfriend after a whole year. but he was more than that, he was your partner, in every sense of the word. you had gone through everything with him, been there for him when no one else was.

now the only thing you were going through was his instagram, scrolling the feed that had already been graced by that little red heart. he was doing good, better than good. maybe you were holding him back, not allowing him to shine as bright as he could. that's all you ever wanted for him, so why couldn't you accept this?

you found yourself going through old photos and texts, not having deleted his number even after a year. soon you found your thumb hovering over his name in your contacts, your mind daring you to call him.

and so you did.

it rang once.

then it rang twice.

and just as it was about to ring that third time, as you were about to hang up knowing he'd never respond, you heard his voice.

"hello?" he spoke softly and you felt your whole body tense as you heard the voice that you once sought out for comfort. sure, you had put yourself in this situation, but you didn't think he would actually pick up.

your breath was shaky as you spoke, "i can't..." your voice cracked, and you were glad he couldn't see you in this pathetic state.

"y/n?"

"i can't get you out of my head." your voice was barely above a whisper, yet he caught every single word.

"it's been a year." he spoke sternly, as if you didn't recognize that, and suddenly it felt like you were being transported right back to that night where he had first broken your heart.

your eyes welled with tears as you heard him sigh over the phone, did he not miss you the way you missed him?

"why did you end it?" you asked, feeling your heartrate increase, you shouldn't have called him like this.

"y/n why are you-"

"tell me." you pleaded as the tears fell down onto your cheeks. a lifetime ago he would've been the one to wipe them away, telling you he'd never let anything hurt you, but he ended up being the one to.

the other end went silent for a moment before he spoke, "i didn't love you anymore."

you felt your heart drop deeper than it ever had, never expecting him to answer in such a way. "why? did i do something wrong?" you didn't know why you bothered asking, he didn't give you a reason then, and he probably wouldn't now.

"i had more important things to focus on." he rubbed salt in the wound, as if you were never important to him. as if you weren't the first name he'd call for whenever something happened to him, as if you weren't the one to carry his weight when he felt like he couldn't continue, as if you weren't the one who kept the flame of his soul alight. he didn't care as much as you did, he never did.

and so you hung up.

call ended.

connor looked down at his phone, "fuck." his lip quivered as he tried to hold it together.

you were always the most important thing to him, and that's why he had to let you go. he didn't want to tie you down, a ball and chain keeping you from pursuing your own dreams as you followed him around the nhl.

he knew you'd be alright eventually, and he knew that you’d find someone who could give you all their love in ways he couldn’t. after all he knew you better than you knew yourself.

and that's why he selfishly kept a piece of your heart, because he never truly wanted to let you go.

#˗ˏˋ 200 special ˎˊ˗#connor bedard #connor bedard fic #connor bedard x reader #connor bedard imagine #connor bedard angst #chicago blackhawks #cb98 #bedsy

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hukelughes · 2 days ago

Note

your writing of frat luke made me think about frat quinn (which we don't see a lot i feel like)

can you maybe write something about a situationship with him

You nod along to what he’s saying, an easy smile on your face. You like him, he’s easy to talk to, knows exactly what to say at the right time, and wants to know you. He’s exactly the person who you should want.

“So, I just eat shit down this hill as like ten scouts are looking straight at me, I’ve never been so embarrassed.” He laughs, putting his face in his hands, shoulders shaking as he recalls the moment.

Your smile slowly fades as you give him a fake laugh, something you’ve perfected these last few dates.

“This guy puts his stick in front of my legs, and I fall down, y’know, like eat complete shit down to the ice as everyone’s watching me. My coaches, the scouts, my parents, my brothers. I swear if anyone ever finds that clip, I’m retiring and moving to the Galapagos to become a fucking biologist.”

You burst out laughing, head falling back as he watches you with a soft look in his eye. “Oh my God, do you even have a biology degree?”

“Nope, I quit college in my second year and was a Sports Management major. I would be fired on my first day, I think.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. The other one was gently holding your waist, with your bodies facing each other and your faces closer than ever.

“Aw, well it’s a good thing you’re making it big now, huh?” You mumble, looking down at his lips. You’re not being subtle, giving him hints about what you want for about an hour now. “Quinn, can we go back to your place?”

“Yeah? You wanna go back to mine?”

Nodding, you lean forward enough that your breathing lands directly on his lips. “Yeah.”

He breaks the distance, hands now going to cradle each side of your face. Your lips meet for the first time, immediately tasting the beer he’d been drinking. Putting your fingers in his belt loops, you pull him even closer, if that was even possible. Your tongues brush against each other as you both fight to lead. It’s messy, passionate, euphoric, and you don’t know if any other man could kiss you like Quinn Hughes.

“Are you listening? Hello?” He snaps his fingers in front of your face, breaking you out of the memory.

“Yeah, sorry, your story just reminded me of something someone told me.” You grimaced, looking down to fiddle with your rings.

“How about we cut this date short and just go right to the good stuff, huh?”

His words send a cold chill through you, instantly waking you up from whatever trance you were in. “Sorry?”

“What, you don’t want to fuck me, baby?”

“Not really, no. I’m just going to go now, if that’s okay?” Without waiting for his answer, you grab your jacket and your bag. You can hear him calling after you as you walk towards the exit. Once you’re out in the cold Vancouver weather, you finally breathe out a sigh of relief.

Fumbling with your bag, you take your phone out and open up your contact list. You stop at ‘H’, thumb moving around in circles before you just click on it.

It rings three times before you finally hear his voice.

“Hello?” Quinn asks, his voice voicing his confusion as to why you were calling him during your date. “Y/N?”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you try to gather your thoughts, before you close your eyes and let it out. “Can you pick me up?”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re still sharing your location with me right?”

“Yeah, you should see me right away,” you hear him shuffling around, presumably getting up and grabbing his keys. “He really sucked.”

“Did he?” Quinn hums, something about his tone tells you that he knew it all along. “Baby, I told you that you’re better off with me.”

“I know, I know.” You absentmindedly kick a rock into the road. “I just thought our… arrangement wasn’t working anymore. Didn’t wanna get too emotionally involved with you.”

He chuckles under his breath, “yeah, well, it’s already too late for that. Here you are calling me to rescue you from your date.”

“Shut up. I was wrong.” You concede, rolling your eyes in the process. “What’s your ETA?”

“Hm, 5 minutes I think. Should be there soon, traffic isn't bad.” He estimates it's quiet for a second before he speaks again. “Mine or yours?”

“Yours, definitely yours.”

You aren’t talking about who’s place you’re staying at tonight.

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes imagine #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #quinn hughes #qh43 #emma’s fics

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ivyues · 15 hours ago

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Chasing Yesterday | 1 | - Bang Chan

Bang Chan x lost connection trainee friend

Years after splitting paths, Bang Chan didn't expect a simple text to bring an old friend – and old feelings – back into his life.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The training rooms smelled of sweat, determination, and dreams that didn’t come easy. Chris always lingered a little longer than the others, his eyes fixed on the mirrors, wondering if his reflection would ever transform into someone worthy of debut. For years, it was the same – watching friends reach their dreams while he stayed behind, burdened by doubt.

There was also you. You weren’t just another trainee to Chris. Sure, you were a hard worker, someone who matched his relentless pace, but you were also his anchor. Late-night conversations about dreams, shared snacks in the practice room, and bursts of laughter after a particularly tough day made the grueling years bearable. He never told you about the way his heart would race when you smiled at him or how your encouragement after his failures felt like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. He kept that silly little teenage crush away, afraid to ruin what you two had.

But around the time Han joined the company, you decided to leave. The dream of becoming a K-pop idol didn’t burn as brightly for you anymore, and while Chris understood, he hated losing yet another close ally. One day, you were practicing next to him and the next day, you were just… gone.

The years passed. Stray Kids debuted, and Chris threw himself into his work, becoming the leader his members needed him to be. Life moved on, but every now and then, in quiet moments, he’d wonder what you were doing.

It wasn’t until one day, years later, when he was catching up with Sana that your name came up.

“You remember Y/N?” Sana asked casually over coffee, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Of course, I remember her,” Chris said with a small smile. “It’s been years, though. I haven’t talked to her since…” His voice trailed off, the memory bittersweet. “I wonder how she’s doing.”

Sana grinned. “Funny you should say that. I got her number recently. Want it?”

Chris blinked, startled. “Her number?”

“Yep,” Sana said, sliding her phone toward him. “Go on. Text her. She’d probably love to hear from you.”

That night, Chris sat on his bed, your number staring back at him from his phone screen. He hesitated, typing and deleting messages, his nerves getting the better of him. Days passed before he finally worked up the courage to text you.

“Hey, this is Chris. Sana gave me your number. It’s been a while. How have you been?”

Chan hit send and immediately regretted it. What if you didn’t reply? What if you didn’t want to talk to him at all? He set his phone down, trying to distract himself, but every buzz made his stomach flip.

A few hours later, his phone lit up.

“Chris as in Christopher Bang Chan?”

He smiled, relief washing over him as he quickly typed back. “Yeah, it’s me. This is Y/N, right?”

Your reply came almost instantly: “Yeah. It’s been ages! I can’t believe you’re texting me!”

Chris hesitated for a moment, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard, before replying, “I’ve missed you. I hope you’re doing well.”

There was a brief pause before your next message arrived: “I am, thanks. You too. I’m proud of you. I’ve watched your MVs – You’ve come so far.”

The thought of you keeping up with his career sent a rush of warmth through him. He stared at your message for a moment, rereading it before typing back. “I wouldn’t be here without you. You know that, right?”

Your reply came with a teasing tone that made him laugh out loud. “Once you’re famous and living the idol life, you forget to text old friends, huh? 😜”

“Hey, I’m here now!” he shot back.

And just like that, the ice was broken. Over the next few days, your texts became constant – snippets of your lives, fond memories of the trainee days, and playful banter. It felt like no time had passed, and yet, in some ways, everything had changed.

One day, Han caught Chris grinning at his phone in the corner of the dorm. It was rare to see their leader so visibly relaxed, much less smiling to himself. Intrigued, Han leaned in, nearly giving Chris a heart attack.

“Hyung, who’s got you giggling like that? Is it someone I know?”

Chris scrambled to lock his phone. “It’s nothing, it’s just...an old friend. Do you remember Y/N from when we were trainees?”

Hearing him say your name, Han’s curiosity only grew. “Not really, but you were pretty close right? Hyung, why are you just texting? You should meet her. It’s been years, right? I bet she’d love to catch up.”

Chris hesitated. Meeting you in person? That thought felt heavier than he expected. He wasn’t sure why.

“Hyung.” Han’s tone softened, sensing his hesitation. “You’ve told me stories about her. She meant a lot to you back then, right? What’s stopping you?”

It was a question Chris couldn’t easily answer, but it nudged him to act. A few days later, after much internal debate, he texted you.

“How about coffee this weekend? There’s this café I like. We could catch up properly.”

Your response was quick and enthusiastic: “I’d love that! Let me know the place and time.”

-----

The café was warm and inviting, its earthy tones and gentle lighting creating a cozy ambiance. Chris arrived first, nervously fiddling with his phone as he waited. He hadn’t seen you in years, and the thought of reconnecting stirred a mix of excitement and anxiety. Would he recognize you? Would it feel the same as it did back then?

When the bell above the door chimed, Chan looked up, and there you were. You hadn’t changed much, and yet, you looked so different. The teenage girl he remembered had matured into someone who carried themselves with quiet confidence. Your smile was the same, though, lighting up your face as you spotted him.

“Chris,” you greeted, and the sound of his name in your voice felt like a time machine.

He stood, unsure whether to hug you or shake your hand, but you made the decision for him, pulling him into a warm embrace. “It’s been forever,” you said, pulling back to look at him. “You haven’t changed.”

Chris chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “You have – in a good way. You look… happy.”

The two of you ordered drinks and found a quiet corner. The conversation started easy – catching up on the basics, sharing stories from your lives since those trainee days. But as the initial excitement settled, the mood grew more reflective.

“Do you regret it?” Chris asked suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, but his gaze was intense, searching your expression for any flicker of doubt. “Leaving the company, I mean. Giving up on… that dream.”

You took a sip of your coffee, considering his question. “No,” you said finally, your voice steady. “I don’t regret it, Chris. After I quit I realized that I was chasing something that wasn’t really mine to chase. I think I was trying to prove something to myself, or maybe to others.”

You paused, hesitating before continuing. “I realized after I left that the dream I really wanted… it was never an option for me. Producing music, having creative control—it was never going to happen as a girl in a girl group, not in that company, not at that time. They had a mold, and I didn’t fit into it. Once I understood that, it was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. I stopped trying to be someone I wasn’t.”

Chris’ eyes softened, a flicker of something unspoken passing through them. “That… must’ve been tough to come to terms with.”

“It was,” you admitted. “I was angry for a while, at myself, at the system. But after I left, I started to see that it wasn’t the end. There’s more than one way to make a dream come true, and the path I’m on now—it feels right for me. I’m happy where I am.”

Chris nodded, processing your words. “You always seemed so sure of yourself back then. I guess I just… I admired that.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “I wasn’t as sure as you think. But thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.”

There was a moment of quiet, the café’s gentle hum filling the space between you. Then Chris tilted his head slightly, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Do you still do music? Like creating or singing?”

You smiled, the question sparking something warm in you. “Yeah, I do. It’s just a hobby now, though. I write and sing at home when I feel like it. It’s… different from before, but it brings me a lot of joy.”

“That’s great,” Chris said sincerely. “I’m glad you haven’t let it go completely. Music was always such a big part of who you are.”

You nodded, your fingers tracing the rim of your coffee cup. “It still is. But right now, I haven’t really been doing much with it. I just moved back to Seoul recently, so I’m still settling in. Once things are a bit more stable, I’d love to dive back into it.”

“You moved back?” Chris asked, his eyes lighting up. “How long ago?”

“Just a couple of months,” you said. “I wanted a change, and Seoul felt like the right place to be.” Then, after a brief pause, you added, “You know, once everything’s in order, you should come by sometime. I’ve been meaning to show someone my music setup—well, when I finally unpack it all.”

Chris’ eyes widened slightly in surprise, then softened with a warm smile. “Yeah? I’d like that. It’d be nice to hear what you’ve been working on since.”

“It’s nothing fancy – no chart-topping masterpieces” you said quickly, brushing off the compliment with a wave of your hand. “But it’s always fun to share it with someone who gets it.”

“I’d love to,” he said, his sincerity unmistakable. “Just let me know when you’re ready. No rush.”

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting golden light through the café windows, the two of you lingered, caught in a space that felt timeless. There was something comforting about reconnecting, about seeing the ways you had both changed and grown, yet still finding the same thread of understanding that had tied you together all those years ago.

pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.4 | pt.5 | masterlist

#bang chan imagines #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #bang chan scenarios #stray kids scenarios #bang chan #stray kids #skz #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #skz fluff #bang chan fluff #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids fluff

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