#she’s cautious. and suspicious of her

[clegfly]

Puter au Plot basically. Based off of this

[lunaetis]

▸▸ [ @kohouri ( diamond ) || starter call. ]

─「エデン」─  " so, why are you here in the dreamscape ? " it was innocent curiosity, nothing more, nothing less. people she had encountered here all had reasons to escape the reality one way or the other. she wondered what his reason was. " are you here just to enjoy yourself ? do things you cannot do in the real world, maybe ? "

[lurukifennecfox]

Paulina was walking home from her little self-care date~ when she noticed a familiar figure, she slowed, double checked to make sure it wasn't some random civilian, grinned and-

threw her knife!

Wes caught it, because of course he did cautious bastard. And yes she realises this now that fighting on the street was not the smartest move but it was a long time since she saw her friends from Amity and they got along fairly well with Weston.

So they had a good time, she managed to nip him on the cheek with her knife (after taking it back) he left her with a new bruise (it will be gone by tomorrow noon) and then they were both taken in by the police...

And now she has to explain why she did what she did to the GCPD and Ancients help probably Batman as soon as she gets back to her apartment. Who could've guessed that having a friendly brawl would be so taboo in Gotham? (who is she kidding of course it's suspicious it looked like they were trying to kill each other to any normal person!)

and she's not sure how much she should say!

[cimmanonrowl]

OMG I love dbf trope 🫣… could I req dbf!Hotch and reader where they’re secretly dating and the team accidentally catches them on a date together or something similar to that?

lowkey

There must be something with the coffee. Or the new water dispenser in the BAU breakroom. For a couple of weeks, Aaron Hotchner seemed to be in the best mood everyone in the Bureau has seen in a long time. And well, the mystery was solved when the team caught you both red-handed on a date.

Pairing: dbf!aaron hotchner x rossi!reader

Theme: fluff mallows

Content: age gap, cheesy date, secret relationship.

Rumor has it that SSA Hotchner was dating someone.

Even you have heard the whispers in the hallway, the gossip they spread in the breakroom, and even the cautious murmurs in the elevator. For many weeks, the team had been a target of all faux inquiries in different conference rooms before every meeting started; all pertaining to when Aaron Hotchner found his happiness. And who the lucky woman was.

They know Aaron has a special someone. They just don’t know who it was– no, scratch that. They just don’t know it was you. 

“I’m not saying this because I don’t like seeing him happy...” Emily murmured to you and Morgan, who was already filling his third mug of searing coffee for the day. “But he’s acting too happy lately, it’s starting to freak me out.”

Emily leaned against the counter, quietly observing Hotch from a distance with her red lips pursed and suspicious eyes. As you turned around, you saw Aaron caught in an interesting conversation with Reid; a big, endearing smile lighting up his usually stoic and serious face.

Morgan shook his head as he looked over his shoulder, chuckling in obvious agreement. “He’s been joking around lately, too. It’s almost… unsettling.”

“Right? It’s literally been ages since I saw him like that- wait, do you know he went home early last night?” confusion was deeply etched on Emily’s face as she babbled, her eyes wide in faint excitement.

“Yeah. Nearly gave me a heart attack when he peeped into my office and told me he was heading home,” Morgan also leaned against the counter and took a sip of his drink.

“He went home earlier than Derek Morgan?”

“Shut up, Prentiss,” was all he could say.

You nodded along with their conversation in silence, not having anything interesting to say. Besides, your attention was fixed on your boyfriend from across the room; observing the way he listened intently and patiently to Reid’s genius ramble, the way he’d give him an encouraging nod to continue talking, his strong arms crossed over his chest, and with a kind smile plastered on his face. That look on his face sent hundreds of butterflies fluttering around your stomach. 

You love seeing him smile, which in return, also made you smile behind your mug.

“Maybe it’s the new water dispenser,” Emily suggested out of nowhere, half-joking. “Or the coffee. They changed it recently. What do you think?”

“I think it’s still shit...” you chimed in before you could even stop yourself, scrunching your nose at the bitterness of your drink.

Derek let out a surprised laugh, almost spitting the hot coffee in his mouth before quickly placing his mug on the counter, nodding frantically. “That, I fucking agree.”

Across the room, the sound of your hearty laughter caught Aaron’s attention. He quickly glanced at where you were standing, his expression softening a tad more at the sight of you talking animatedly with the other team members. It took all of his self-restraint not to grin at the familiar sound, although his heart fluttered at the very moment he heard it. 

He shook his head as he tore his eyes away from you, biting his lip to stop the smile slowly tugging on his lips, only to meet Reid’s inquisitive gaze the moment he focused back on him.

And all Aaron could mutter in his head was: Oh, fuck.

“Or maybe someone special has put that smile on his face. You know there’s a lot of rumor he’s seeing someone,” Morgan wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

“Yeah, the barista across the street.”

“What? The ba- what?” Emily’s eyes widened as she turned to you. “Did you see them? When? What happened? What does she look like?”

“Do you mean the one with crooked bangs? I swear that girl’s barber used a butcher’s knife or something.”

You chuckled at the description Morgan used. “I don’t know. I’m just kidding, anyway. That’s the new gossip I heard from Anderson’s team.”

“Last week they’re saying it’s some model in New York.”

“New York?” you repeated, feigning interest in the information.

“Uhuh, even Strauss was curious. Did you know that’s what she asked me on the elevator instead of asking how’s the bullet hole on my leg?”

“You’re being dramatic, Derek.”

Morgan snorted. “If you get shot, that’s the first thing you’ll hear from me, Prentiss.”

You let out a soft sigh, clutching the report in your hands as you approach Hotch’s office. The door was wide open, just the way he would always leave it, and you could see him focused on a stack of paperwork on his desk even from afar.

When he didn’t notice your presence, you took that as an opportunity to observe him. Aaron’s attention was focused on the document laid on his hand, his thick eyebrows tugged together, his eyes sharp with precision. You know it’s been a while since he shaved, and now there’s a hint of dark stubble shading his chin, adding a rugged edge to his otherwise polished appearance. You vividly remember the feeling of his growing beard on your neck whenever Aaron kisses you there. Just the memory alone makes you giggle and blush to yourself.

You tapped lightly on the doorframe.

“Agent Hotchner?” you called out softly, “Here’s the report you’ve been asking.”

Aaron looked up almost instantly, his stern expression softening just a fraction when he realized it was you. “Thank you, Agent,” he replied with a smile, mirroring the one you have on yours.

Aaron stood gracefully and walked around his desk to take the report from you, his fingers brushing lightly against yours in a fleeting touch. Up close, you noticed the shadow of exhaustion looming over his head. The tired frown, the dark circle under his eyes- you almost reached out and touched his face. All you wanted at that moment was to kiss the weariness away.

“How’s your day been?” you intended that question to sound professional but eventually failed as it was laced with obvious worry.

“Busy, as usual,” he said, his lips curving into a smile that only you would recognize as genuine. “But I feel better now.”

You bit your lower lip before nodding shyly.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

He darted his attention to the report and skimmed through it, nodding appreciatively. “This is thorough, as always. Excellent work.”

“Thank you, sir,” you beamed, your heart beating a little faster at his praise. “I try to keep up.”

Aaron’s eyes meet yours again, his voice low and smooth as though he was passing top-secret information. “About tonight, baby,” he began, “I made reservations at that Italian place you like. Eight o’clock work for you?”

You nodded promptly, keeping your expression neutral for any potential onlookers. Not only the door was left open but also the glass window. This old man and his professionalism, really. And it still freaks you out to think that, just last week, Reid has taken an interest in learning the art of lip-reading. No one has the nerve to call him out yet but he’s slowly becoming a menace to society.

“That sounds perfect. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

There was a brief, almost imperceptible pause, and then Aaron nodded. “Good. I can’t wait, angel.”

That was your cue to leave so you quickly bid him goodbye, but not before giving him a sweet smile and a subtle wink. “Don’t stress up too much, Agent Hotchner.”

“You too, Agent,” he replied before you turned around, fully aware of how his eyes followed you as you walked out of his office.

When you returned to your desk, Emily glanced up from her paperwork, a tired smile plastered on her lips. “Everything alright with the report?” she asked innocently.

“Perfect,” you answered casually, keeping your tone light. “As always.”

Hours dragged on and the bullpen was slowly winding down for the evening. For the third time in five minutes, you glanced at the clock, your heart beating a little faster as the hands crept closer to eight. Tonight’s date with Aaron was all you could think about, and you couldn’t wait for the night to end when the both of you are already on his bed and resting.

Until suddenly, your father leaned against your desk, his trademark grin in place. “Ready to head out, kiddo? I was thinking we could grab dinner at that new Italian place you’ve been wanting to try.”

You gave him a small smile, not wanting to draw any suspicion for the sudden rejection. “Actually, I have plans tonight, Dad.”

“Plans, huh? With whom, if I may ask?”

Obviously, that piqued his interest. It’s been a year since you joined the Bureau and have been living independently since. You no longer live under his roof, but knowing your father, he still loves to act as if you do. He’d always offer you a ride to your apartment after grabbing dinner together.

You tried to keep your expression normal, but the excitement bubbling inside made it hard to hide your smile. “Just... a friend. We’ve been planning this for a while.”

Rossi’s eyes narrowed slightly. “A friend, mi cara? Anyone I know?”

“Well, sort of...” Hesitation lidded your expression for a moment. “But it’s still pretty new, so I’m not ready to share all the details yet.”

Rossi shook his head, chuckling at the sight of you blushing over some trivial question. “Alright, I won’t pry. But you know, you can tell me anything, right?”

You nodded quickly. “I know, Dad. And I will tell you about him... soon.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Alright. Just be careful, okay? And have fun.”

“I will, Papà,” you promised after giving him a quick hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Make sure to use protection.”

“Dad!” you glanced around the bullpen in scandal.

“Don’t be silly, just making sure he wraps his willie.”

From her desk, you heard Emily burst into boisterous laughter, obviously listening to the conversation. Your ears felt hot with embarrassment and you almost stumped your feet on the floor like a child.

“Oh my goodness, Dad!”

“What?” he feigned innocence. “Just a reminder, cara. But do enjoy your evening.”

You watched your Dad turn to leave before you breathed a sigh of relief, the tension finally easing from your shoulders. When you glanced around the office, that’s when you noticed Dr. Reid’s eyes focused on you, making you panic inside your head. What now?

After a while, he gave you an adorable tight-lipped smile before waving his hand. You gathered your things as everyone did, making sure to match everybody’s pace, eager not to appear suspicious from any angle.

Just as you were about to head out, you caught sight of Aaron emerging from his office, his suit jacket slung over one shoulder. He gave you a discreet nod, which you only returned with a smile.

The soft glow of candlelight flickered across the table. The air was filled with the melody of an old Italian song, distant conversations, and clinking of cutlery. At times, you would hear a champagne or wine bottle being popped open. And the moment Aaron pulled back a chair so you could sit, it was as if time had finally slowed down.

Aaron’s eyes were locked on yours, his gaze so tender you almost melted in your seat. He leaned slightly forward, an adoring smile present on his lips.

“You know,” he began softly, his voice barely above a whisper, “You get more beautiful with each passing day. You keep me on my toes, baby.”

You chuckled at his terribly sweet words, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “We need to leave some room for dessert, love.”

“Just saying, angel,” he reached across the table to gently touch your hand. “Did you even notice how many men looked back at you when you walked past them? I bet some of them are on a date, too.”

You giggled, squeezing his hand lightly. “Can’t say I have. I’m too busy thinking of being in your bed.”

“Ah, my bed,” Aaron’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Laters, sweetheart. It feels cold and empty without you in there.”

As soon as he said it, the waiter arrived with your meal, setting down a plate of creamy fettuccine Alfredo and a glass of rich, red wine. Aaron took a moment to admire the spread, then turned back to you. When he lifted his glass for a toast, you noticed a flicker of hesitation flash in his eyes.

“Fuck. I was planning to say something sweet but I forgot it now.”

You laughed at his confession. “Take your time, Papi. You can do it.”

“No, really. Fuck...” he chuckled heartily. “Stop looking at me like that, darling. You make my heart flutter.”

“Like what, Aaron?”

“Baby, stop. Have mercy on me.”

You tilted your head innocently. “Like what, Aaron?”

He heaved a deep sigh, finally tearing his eyes away. “Jesus Christ...”

Heat crept into your cheeks as you lifted your glass. Giggling at his flushed expression, you clinked your glasses together, the sound resonating amidst the noise.

“I love you,” you said warmly, your heart swelling with every word. “And I know all the ways to cover a crime scene so don’t ever hurt me, Aaron Hotchner.”

Just as he was about to say something, the familiar voice of your father suddenly interrupted. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

You turned to your side and saw the rest of the team standing beside your table, all with different looks on their faces. Emily looked absolutely in shock, her eyes wide and lips ajar. JJ was biting back a smile, shaking her head. While Penelope was squealing and shaking JJ’s shoulder.

Behind them, Reid was already bantering with Morgan and asking for the price money he had won on their bet.

“I told you he called her ‘Angel’ not ‘Agent.’ I know I’ve only been learning how to read lips for a week but my skills are highly reliable.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, pretty boy.”

“It’s true!”

Motherfuckers.

And to your dread, your dad was the first to break the silence. “So this is the willie—”

“Oh my god, Dad!”

Penelope clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with happy tears. “Oh my gosh, this is the cutest thing ever! Wait, what do you mean he’s the willie?”

No, because I tear up writing this while listening on-loop to lowkey. LOL. I'm so hopelessly in love with Aaron. Someone pls kill me.

[venusbyline]

Thinking about Teen! Aegon and Adult! Aegon going with Younger! Sister to the Sept. Not because he believes in the Seven, but it’s the only time he gets alone with her / can see her in gentle candle light and pretty veils ( like Alicent’s in the Sept scenes )

Sometimes he presses her against the altar of the Seven and dry humps her from behind - whispering at their union ( incest and doing it in the Sept ) being a sin and blasphemy, other times he fingers her during Mass, sometimes he’ll have her jerk him off under the statues of the Seven, etc. 

But, this one time he sees her genuinely praying to the Mother ( who represents Motherhood and Nurturing - who you pray to for mercy or to make a woman fertile ) and goes downright FERAL!

Cause why else would Younger! Sister be praying to the Mother if not because she wanted him to breed her with heirs?

Sorry sweetie I really forgot about the Adult!Aegon part cuz currently I'm sooooo obsessed about Teen!Aegon being betrothing to his younger sister, but now I'm thinking... Adult!Aegon would literally do something like that if he was already married to Helaena, for example. So the only free (and dirty) time he would've with his little sister would be in the Sept 🤭🤭

⚠️: SMUT CONTENT. female!reader, teen!Aegon II Targaryen, Targcest (older brother/younger sister), corruption kink, breeding kink, underage sex (no specific mention of reader's or Aegon's ages tho), public sex, handjob, vaginal fingering, dry humping, doggy style position, Jaehaerys Targaryen/Jaehaera Targaryen incest kinda implied.

At first, Teen!Aegon would not be used to going to Mass or randomly praying at the Sept. He had never been a religious boy, he had always found his maternal family's faith extremely pathetic and silly. Living according to the morality of the Seven was not something Aegon would have wished in a million years. He preferred the enjoyment of brothels, the pleasures that prostitutes brought him, admiring gorgeous women dancing there or watching their orgies...

However, that was until Alicent and Viserys announced a betrothal between Aegon and his younger sister.

You were not exactly the type of girl that attracted Aegon, but your older brother began to take an interest about your sweet personality after realizing that you were such a innocent little thing. He was used to seductive and experienced women, but the idea of corrupting you and molding you to what he wanted soon seemed quite fascinating.

Of course, there were many obstacles complicating Aegon's depravities. Alicent was the worst of all of them. Always pulling you away from your brother when he tried to get too close to you, always making sure that the knights were patrolling both of your chambers to prevent Aegon from trying to sneak into yours at nights or dragging you to his own.

Then... the only way out Aegon found was to start going to the Sept with you. Obviously, Alicent found it suspicious at first, demanding that Ser Criston accompany the two of you almost like a protective father. Aegon was not stupid, despite being so perverted. He held back his lust for a few weeks, making sure that neither Alicent nor Criston had any proof that he was doing anything to you right there in that sacred place. When his mother and the knight no longer had any reason to distrust all the time or to be too cautious about the two of you, Aegon took the opportunity to start acting like the naughty boy he always was.

It always started with him admiring how delightful you looked there in the Sept, with those lit candles illuminating your pretty face and the beauty of your typical green dress. If you were actually focused on the Masses, he would struggle to restrain himself from just staring at your beauty and jerking off surreptitiously. However, the moment his horny got the better of him... Aegon would pull your hand out without anyone seeing, asking for your help to make him cum while he also fingered inside your cunt.

"Fuck, little sister... You are so tight, your hole is practically crushing my hand." Your brother growled softly in your ear, nibbling on your earlobe as he added a three finger.

He was getting you used to all of that... The corruption and the blasphemy. If no one was around when you prayed in front of the Altar, he would kneel behind you and dry hump your ass like a pathetic boy, whimpering and biting his own lips to keep himself from moaning loudly as the orgasm approached.

"You know what we are doing is a sin, do not you?" Aegon sneered, though his voice was trembling while he was still rubbing himself. "Perverting ourselves at the Sept is already a huge sin, even more because we are siblings. Two perverted and incestuous sinners..."

And then there was the sight of you alone during a random night, genuinely praying to the Mother, kneeling at the altar and so intently focused... Gods, it was too much for him. What else could you be asking for other than his heirs? What else could you be praying for other than blessings about fertility, babies and pregnancies?

Your wedding ceremony was not even that close yet, but you were already desperate to carry your older brother's heirs, desperate to be treated like a broodmare. Who could blame you? You desired Aegon's cock inside you so badly...

You did not even bother to pretend to want Aegon to stop when he pressed you against the altar, his heavy hands moving up to cup your round ass beneath your dress and squeezing the soft flesh. "My little sister, you are already wanting the Mother to bless us with children? We are not even married yet and you are already wanting to get pregnant?" Aegon whispered after a chuckle, moving one arm forward so he could grab your wet cunt with his entire palm. "Is that so, sweet sister? Do you want me to take your maidenhead right here? Do you want the Seven to bless our first time and help you get pregnant soon?" He purred, licking your neck and rubbing his arousal against the fabric of your dress, making you feel how hard and thick he felt. "Perhaps the Mother will bless us with twins, a boy and a girl, so they can have some dirty fun in their future just like we are doing right now..."

[batboysanonymous]

Soft Hands, Sharp Edges

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel doesn’t know what to do with kindness. It unsettles him more than any blade, any shadow-drenched secret he’s ever carried. But when Y/N comes into his life, he begins to realize that maybe love isn’t spoken in grand confessions but in the quiet acts of care he’s spent a lifetime denying himself.

Azriel had spent his entire life repaying debts.

Debts to the shadows that had carried his whispered prayers in the dark when no one else had listened. Debts to the Night Court, to Rhysand, to the only family he had ever known. Debts to the people who needed him—the ones who relied on his skill, his efficiency, his quiet, lethal devotion.

Kindness, though—kindness was a language he had never been taught.

It was why, when Y/N pressed a steaming cup of tea into his hands one evening at the House of Wind, he hesitated.

He hadn’t seen her approach, though he should have. His shadows should have warned him, should have curled against his skin in anticipation. But somehow, she had slipped past all his defenses, her presence as natural as breathing.

Azriel stared at the cup. Then at her. Then back at the cup.

“What’s this?” His voice was flat, cautious. Suspicious. As if she had handed him a live grenade and was waiting for him to pull the pin.

Y/N only smiled. “Tea.”

He blinked. “…Why?”

The corners of her mouth twitched, as if she were holding back laughter. “Because you looked tired.”

Tired.

Azriel didn’t know what to do with that. He didn’t know how to process the idea that someone had looked at him—at the way his shoulders slumped beneath the weight of the latest mission, at the tension he carried like a second skin—and thought to do something about it.

So he stood there, fingers hovering just above the ceramic, waiting for the catch.

Y/N’s expression softened, and she nudged the cup closer. “It’s not poison, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Azriel huffed, his lips twitching despite himself. He finally took it, his scarred fingers brushing hers in the transfer. He expected her to flinch, the way so many others had when they first saw the remnants of his past etched into his skin.

She didn’t.

And that unsettled him even more than the tea.

He cleared his throat, shifting his grip on the mug. “I guess I could use it.”

Y/N only hummed, a quiet, knowing sound. And then she walked away, not lingering for a thank you, not waiting for him to react, as if this—this offering, this care—was simply natural.

As if he deserved it.

Azriel didn’t take his first sip until she was gone. He drank it slowly, fingers curling around the warmth, letting the quiet gesture settle into the cracks of him like rain against dry earth.

───────────────────────────────

It didn’t stop there.

The gifts kept coming.

Not grand things, not grand gestures, but small, thoughtful things.

An extra set of gloves left outside his door when the frost began creeping into the Illyrian mountains. A plate of his favorite dinner waiting at the long dining table before he could even reach for it. A first-aid kit tucked discreetly into the pocket of his leathers, no note, no explanation—but he knew.

Azriel knew.

And every time, without fail, he grumbled. He rolled his eyes. He told her, in the gruffest, most reluctant tone, that she didn’t need to fuss over him.

But he never refused.

And he never let go of those things easily.

───────────────────────────────

One night, after a particularly brutal mission, he found her waiting for him.

The townhouse was quiet, the others long asleep. Y/N sat curled in the armchair by the fire, a book resting open in her lap.

Azriel hesitated in the doorway, exhaustion weighing heavy in his bones. He had seen her waiting for him before, but this time, something about it hit him differently.

She looked up, and the moment her eyes met his, something in his chest tightened. She didn’t ask if he was okay. Didn’t prod for answers or explanations. She just studied him for a moment, then slipped out of her chair, disappearing into the kitchen.

When she returned, she pressed something warm into his hands.

Not tea this time.

Hot chocolate.

Azriel stared at it, blinking. “I—”

“You looked like you needed something sweeter,” she murmured.

His throat went tight.

For a long moment, he just stood there, gripping the mug like it was an anchor. Then, before he could stop himself, he muttered, “Thank you.”

Y/N smiled. That soft, quiet smile that made something in him ache.

“Always,” she whispered.

And for the first time in a long time, Azriel believed it.

But kindness had always been a double-edged blade.

Azriel had been cut by it before, had been given glimpses of warmth only for it to be ripped away.

So when Y/N’s kindness became something steady, something he could almost count on, something that settled into his life like it belonged there—he panicked.

He started pulling away.

It wasn’t obvious at first. Just small things. Taking his meals in the shadows instead of at the dining table. Leaving for training before she woke up. Letting the gifts pile up in his room instead of keeping them in sight.

But Y/N noticed. Of course she noticed.

And one night, when she caught him slipping out onto the balcony, she finally confronted him.

“Az.”

Her voice was soft, but it stopped him in his tracks. He turned, shadows curling at his feet, his chest tightening at the concern written across her face.

She stepped closer, stopping just short of touching him. “Did I do something wrong?”

The question nearly broke him.

He shook his head. “No. You—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her brows furrowed. “Then why are you avoiding me?”

He looked away. “I’m not.”

“Azriel.”

Her voice was firm now, and he hated how much he liked hearing his name in her mouth, how much he wanted to close the space between them, to let himself have this, just for a moment.

Instead, he said quietly, “I don’t know how to accept it.”

She blinked. “Accept what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely, frustration lacing his voice. “The tea. The gloves. The way you—” He exhaled, shaking his head. “The way you see me.”

She was quiet for a long moment. Then, softly, she said, “Az, you don’t have to earn kindness.”

He flinched.

She reached for his hand, slow and deliberate, as if giving him the chance to pull away. When he didn’t, she laced her fingers through his.

His breath caught.

“I don’t do those things because I expect something from you,” she murmured. “I do them because I want to. Because I—” She hesitated, then lifted his scarred hand to her lips, pressing the softest kiss to his knuckles. “Because I care about you.”

His chest caved in on itself.

She had said it so simply. So easily.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Azriel had no words. No armor against this. Against her.

So he did the only thing he could do.

He let himself have this.

Just for a moment.

He tugged her closer, wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She melted into him without hesitation, her warmth, her scent, her presence grounding him in a way nothing else ever had.

For once, he didn’t question it.

For once, he let himself hold on.

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞

this fuckin Esquire photoshoot has me so feral istg

Summary: You were Helaena's best friend, but her brothers were more than a little interested in you.

Warnings: Modern!AU, mutual pining, tension, angst, eventual fluff, hurt/comfort, slight whump, brief descriptions of domestic violence (from a Lannister), SMUT (MINORS DNI), wet dreams, masturbation, threesome (M/M/F), oral (f and m receiving), praise kink, fingering, p in v sex, anal sex, double penetration, spitroast, and multiple creampies

word count | 7.6k🤙🏻

It had been a couple years since you and Helaena Targaryen became best friends. You both met at university, sharing multiple classes and you just clicked, having similar interests and sharing the same sense of humor. It wasn’t long before she had invited you over for a family night at their estate, meeting most of the family, along with her brothers. 

At first, Aemond didn’t really pay you any mind. He was withdrawn, cautious, even a bit suspicious, as he usually was, though he appreciated that you must’ve been a good friend to his sister. Helaena was never the best at making friends, considered odd to most, so it was a shock to everyone when she said she was bringing her best friend over for a couple nights. You seemed pretty shy yourself, so Aemond made no effort into getting to know you, besides keeping an eye on you to make sure you didn’t cross any lines. Though, that changed after a while.

It took him a few months to start warming up to you, and even then he still wasn’t comfortable being left alone with you. You weren’t quite past the small talk stage, and Aemond absolutely despised small talk, though he was never one to have deep conversations with borderline strangers either. Helaena kept trying to convince him to talk to you sometime, stating how wonderful you were to her and how you’d be a wonderful friend to him as well. So, only for his sister, Aemond started trying to get to know you.

After another couple months, Aemond cursed himself for not trying to get to know you sooner. You were very pleasant to be around, you were kind like Helaena, thoughtful and above all, could keep up with his talks about philosophy. You had very strong opinions, a better word would be convictions. He’d never admit to it, but Aemond admired your sense of justice and how you thought the world should be, even if there were certain aspects of your opinions he’d never believe himself. You listened to him when no one else would, spoke plainly when anybody else besides his family would be too afraid to. It wasn’t long before he gained feelings for you, even though he knew he shouldn’t have. It was hard not to, with you being around almost all the time. Though, that came with another problem.

Aegon.

Though completely different to his brother in almost every way, Aegon did share some similarities with Aemond. When you first arrived with Helaena, Aegon was indifferent. He cared about his family no matter how much he tried not to, so any outsider always put him on edge. But whereas Aemond would be completely withdrawn and prefer to observe, Aegon would be the opposite, trying to talk to you any chance he got, trying to figure out what your game was, if you had any malicious intent with his sister. It was infuriated when he couldn’t find any flaw, any hint that you may have been using them. He cornered you that first night, putting on his favorite mask to try to overwhelm you with accusatory questions.

And despite all of Aegon’s antics, he never scared you away and you never faltered. He got a lashing from Helaena afterwards though, accusing him of trying to scare away her only friend. He rolled his eyes at that comment, he was just trying to see if you were good enough for his sister, that’s all.

Aegon kept an eye on you every time you’d come over, making sure you didn’t nick something from the family. Helaena told him you weren’t like that, not like the company he kept sometimes. Aegon never had a single friend that didn’t try to steal something or ask for money, all of his “friends” were just using him. So maybe he was projecting a little, but he told himself he was just being safe.

To Aegon’s surprise, you had turned the tables on him, cornering him in his own home, asking what his problem was. Truth be told, Aegon was just scared, scared of another person coming into their home just to use them for their money and status to just discard them when they were done. He was more than a little paranoid, he was traumatized. Most of the time, it was Aegon’s fault something was stolen from them. He trusted people too easily, made too many best friends with the wrong people. His own mother threatened to kick him out if he didn’t stop making mistakes; so he quit making mistakes. He wasn’t going to let you be another mistake, even if it would be Helaena making it and not him. He had a feeling he’d be blamed for it anyway, as he often was when something went wrong. He was tired of being the scapegoat, and he hated you for coming there and threatening to undo all his progress.

But you weren’t there to unroot his progress, or take anything from anyone, you just loved being Helaena’s friend; and you wanted to be friends with her siblings as well. And Aegon slowly started to realize that. It took him a while, but he started to see you as you truly were: Helaena’s best friend, close like sisters, looking out for one another. Like Aemond, Aegon hated that he didn’t believe his sister’s kind words about you. He was so afraid of making the same mistakes, he made a completely different one, missing out of being your friend as well. Aegon quickly tried to make up for the lost time, but thankfully, you were happy to spend time getting to know him as well.

Like his younger brother, Aegon started to fall for you too, though neither of them realized it yet.

They were fucked.

Aemond woke with a start, a cold sweat coating his entire body. He groaned as he felt the stickiness between his legs, knowing what must’ve happened, if his dreams were anything to go by.

He angrily kicked the blankets off of himself, feeling hot even though it was the middle of winter, storming to the bathroom to take a cold shower. He was embarrassed, he hadn’t had a wet dream since he was a teenager. He had so much control over himself for the longest time, so this felt like a slight to his own body. He needed to get laid, badly. It wasn’t for lack of options, Aemond knew he could get any woman into bed with him, there was just a very specific person he had in mind.

Helaena told him that you would be joining them for the holidays, your own family not doing anything to celebrate, so they didn’t mind you going tagging along, and Helaena was more than excited to get you all to herself during the festivities. Though, Aemond had plans to get you alone more than once over the course of the weekend. But what he didn’t know is Aegon was planning the exact same thing.

Aemond tore off all his sheets, bringing them to the washer, annoyed to find Aegon nearby. “Aw, did little brother have a wee accident? Did the little Aemy wet the bed? Mate, are you five?” Aemond glared at his older brother, if only looks could kill. Slowly, Aegon realized, much to Aemond’s horror. “Oh, nah, you creamed the bed!” He guffawed, almost doubling over from the force of his laughter.

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll tell mum you’re using again.”

“But I’m not!”

“And do you really think she’d believe you over me?” That shut Aegon up…briefly.

“So…does this little sticky situation have anything to do with her coming over for the holiday?”

Aemond narrowed his eyes at Aegon, tensing and balling his fist, ready to punch his brother’s perfect teeth in. “What makes you ask that?”

Aegon giggled, backing away slightly, having been on the end of one of Aemond’s punches too many times to count. “Come on, little brother. The way you reacted when Helaena told everyone she’d be coming over, it was like Christmas came early…and so did you, apparently.”

“You fuckin’ twat!” Aemond tried to shove Aegon, but he dodged too quickly.

“It’s alright, brother, I’ll take her off your hands if you can’t keep the little guys in!” Aegon giggled as he ran away, throwing a mischievous smile over his shoulder.

Pfft, as if…Aemond sneered.

Besides Helaena, Aemond was the first to greet you as you exited the cab that drove you to their estate and you appreciated the modest welcome.

When you met Helaena, you had no idea her family was so…well endowed, so to speak. From her manners and how she spent her money, you’d think her family was more like yours, so you can imagine how shocked you were when you were invited to her family home for the first time, pulling up to a mansion on a huge chunk of land. It was like stepping into a fairytale. But most of the family you met was surprisingly humble. 

You were nervous about meeting her brothers, but Helaena assured you that they’d warm up to you eventually, they just had trust issues. And that they did, Daeron was no issue, considering he was studying abroad and rarely ever made it home for holidays. Aemond and Aegon, however, it was a race to see who’d warm up to you the fastest. It shocked you to see that the younger brother became friends with you first. It was very passive and slow, his opening up to you. You could tell he didn’t give information freely, and you would never be able to coax it out of him. He was like a cat, he’d come to you when and if he wanted. And when you finally gained his trust, he was like an open book. You never flinched when he showed you what was underneath his eyepatch, you thought he was beautiful and you told him so. He cried, and you held him. You liked to read together, discuss politics and human rights. You felt connected to him deeply, and you started to care about him as much as Helaena.

With Aegon, it was completely different.

When you first met Aegon, he was all over you, trying to find out all about you immediately, to the point you thought he was hitting on you. He was known for his promiscuity at the university you all went to after all, even when the campus was large, word liked to travel fast. But turns out, he wasn’t into you at all, just making sure you were “safe,” as Helaena worded it. It went on for months, feeling like you were being watched whenever you hung out with the Helaena. You were finally sick of it, confronting Aegon and telling him off without being too disrespectful. You thought you broke him for a moment, him just staring at you for the longest time but before you could turn to leave, he grabbed your wrist, quickly explaining himself, stating that he really only wanted to protect his family. He apologized for making you uncomfortable and that it’ll never happen again.

You forgave Aegon, and the two of you became fast friends. Soon, you started to hang out with all of them at the same time, but you had to remember you were Helaena’s friend first. She would always come first…even when you started to harbor crushes on her brothers. 

You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help it. You weren’t the most sought after person in the world, you didn’t really know what it was like to have people vie for your attention, so these two boys sent your brain into an overload. They seemed to constantly compete for your attention, to the point you thought your feelings may have been requited for either of them. But how would that even work? You often laughed humorlessly at yourself, what a fool you must be to crush on two men at once. But you did, and you hated yourself for it. So spending a whole holiday with them would be challenging.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome!” Helaena took you in her arms excitedly, a surprising strength making your breath escape your lungs.

“Crushing…lungs…” You heaved, giggling breathlessly when she finally let you go.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just so happy you’re here. Aemond too, right Aemy?” She tugged on her younger brother’s leather jacket sleeve, an unperceivable smile decorating his lips, one only someone close to him could notice, and notice you did. “It’s felt like forever since you’ve been able to come over.”

“That it has.” Aemond added, taking your hand and placing a soft kiss to your knuckles, making you blush.

“Ever the gentleman, eh?” You tried laughing off your flustered state, pulling him into a hug, smelling his amazing cologne that always made you want to bite him. He held you close, the cold crisp air of the winter months barely noticeable with how warm he was against you. You shivered when he let you go, his warmth leaving all too quickly. “Freezing, let’s head inside, shall we?”

The Targaryens weren’t much of a hugging family, but Aegon was, and he gave you a hug that almost put Helaena and Aemond’s to shame. For someone who was never hugged much as a child, he sure knew how to give the best ones, you thought. “Hello, love.” He smiled, his bright white teeth lighting up the room, giving a polite kiss to your cheek. You were embarrassed how fast your panties soaked through.

Suddenly, Aegon was pushed away by Aemond, who put his arm around your shoulders. “I’m sure she doesn’t want your drool all over her.”

Aegon narrowed his eyes, but still kept a smile, albeit a bit more eggy than the genuine one he directed towards you before. “Says you, brother, you’re the one clinging to her now.”

And that’s how most of the holiday went, Aemond and Aegon constantly trying to spend time alone with you, which you never understood why. You even asked Helaena why they were being fussier than usual, to which she just responded with a mischievous giggle. It was a shame, but you honestly didn’t have that much time to spend with each of them alone, the family’s bread and circuses being too grand for anyone to have alone time. Besides, you were there for Helaena and you didn’t want to leave her side for anything. Even if you, in your heart, desired to spend time with her brothers a bit more. 

During the entire holiday, you needed to relieve yourself more than once in the privacy of your guest room. You brought yourself to your peak with your vibrator, imagining Aegon’s tongue gliding up your neck, kissing his full lips, his cock reaching the deepest parts of you as he taunts you to come for him. You also imagined Aemond, his large hand squeezing your throat as he fucks you from behind, his grunts in your ear and he spills in your womb, rubbing your clit and forcing you to climax over and over until you broke for him. Even, bashfully, having them both fuck you at the same time. You knew no one would ever find out your lecherous fantasies, but you still blushed thinking about it.

You were proud you survived the Targaryen festivities without slipping up and exposing your crushes, the hardest thing you’ve ever done. You really needed to get laid, and you didn’t like it but you knew you had to move on. You needed to go on one of those dating websites, get a quick fuck and maybe even find a relationship. And when university came back in full force and you were alone in your flat with nothing but homework and the spider that had permanently made a home in your coffee cup cabinet, you did exactly that.

Julian Lannister…hmm. He was handsome, for sure. Fit, blonde and blue-eyed…not the type of blonde you personally liked and his eyes were a dark blue that could’ve passed as a type of purple in the dark. He was conventionally attractive, and that was good enough for you. 

Swipe Right.

Aegon heard a loud shatter from across the flat, his feet almost sliding across the wooden flooring as he ran to the source of the noise. “Fuck!”

His eyes widened as he saw the blood stained shards of a mirror scattered in a pile on the floor, seeing his brother’s enraged face glued to his phone. “Aemond?” He exclaimed. “What the bloody hell is going on? What have you done to yourself?” Aegon rushed to Aemond’s side, trying to gently grab his cut up hand, but he lurched away. “What’s wrong?”

Aemond didn’t say a word as he lifted his phone screen for Aegon to see. A text from Helaena. She’s got a boyfriend now. Aegon understood now, as he felt his heart sink in his chest and a similar rage bubble in his chest. But alas, he didn’t feel the need to punch a mirror like his idiot brother did. “Ah…so that’s why you decided to mutilate yourself, you twat?”

It took some convincing, but Aegon got his little brother to let him clean the wounds on his hands. “I fucked it all up…” Aemond mumbled.

Aegon sighed, wrapping a bandage around Aemond’s hand. “So did I. We had the whole holiday but we pussied out, no one to blame but ourselves. Woman like her, she was bound to be swept off her feet eventually.”

“It should’ve been one of us…”

“Yeah…but hey, we’re still her best mates, that’s not gonna change. I’d rather be in her life as a friend than not at all, yeah?”

Aemond nodded his head in agreement. “Just wish I could’ve shown her how happy I can make her, and how happy she makes me.”

“The future’s not set in stone, right? Sure, she has a man now, but that doesn’t mean she’s gonna stay with him forever.” Aemond chuckled. “What?”

“I think that’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said in your life.”

“Mmm, yeah, right, ruin the moment, why don’t ya?”

“Baby, baby, please-!” You were interrupted with a slap from your boyfriend, the force of it shoving you to the floor with a cry.

“Don’t you dare “baby” me, slut! I knew you didn’t love me, you’ll never love anyone more than those Targaryen freaks! Hope you die in a ditch, bitch.” Julian stormed out of your flat, slamming the door so hard the picture you hung up of the two of you fell and shattered, glass flying everywhere.

It had been two months leading up to this moment. Two months since you started dating Julian, who started out as a one night stand, then a two night stand, then you started fucking every night until he asked you to be his girlfriend. In truth, you should’ve told him no, but the sex was decent and you desperately wanted to get over Aegon and Aemond. You led him on, and that was your fault. Now, you were paying the consequences. A bruise on your cheek formed quickly, and you cut up your hands picking up the pieces of glass in a sobbing fit. You deserved this, didn’t you? 

You needed to see your best friends. Honestly, you wanted to see your boys, but you knew that would not turn out well. You were in a bad state, you needed to talk to someone that wouldn’t judge you when you couldn’t control what came out of your mouth while venting. Helaena might be upset you had feelings for her brothers, but you knew ultimately you wouldn't lose her because of it. So to Helaena’s you went.

But what you didn’t know was that Aegon and Aemond were at their sister’s flat while she was at a study getaway with one of her classes, making sure her cat Dreamfire was getting proper attention. If you had known that, you never would’ve knocked on her door.

It was Aemond who opened the door first, his eye widening and brows furrowing in concern, seeing your tear stained face…and then the bruise. “What happened?” He almost growled, pulling you past the threshold into the flat before you could even protest. Aegon said your name in gleeful surprise, but his smile immediately fell when he noticed something was wrong. 

“I never should’ve come here.” You cried, trying to hide your face from the brothers.

“Hey, hey…” Aegon whispered, gently trying to pry your hands away from your face. “Did that Lannister prick do this?” You didn’t have to say anything for them both to know he guessed correctly, both looking at each other with a similar expression. “We’ll kill him.”

“No, please!” You quickly exclaimed, knowing that they could and get away with it. “Please, he’s not worth it. It’s over between us, I don’t want to waste any more time on him, please. Can I just…please, let’s just watch a movie or something, okay?”

Aemond pulled your weak form into a tight hug, his warmth calming you slightly. “We can do whatever you want, love. Right, Aegon?”

He nodded. “Yeah, of course.” He placed his large hand on your shoulder, smoothing the wrinkles on your shirt in a soothing motion. “We’ll always be here for you.”

Since that night, neither Aegon nor Aemond left you alone. If they weren’t in the same area as you, they were always texting you, making sure you were okay or if you needed anything. It felt like you had two husbands doting on you. The thought made you a little bit too happy. But one thing that worried you a little was how fast you heard of something bad happening to Julian. It didn’t even take a week for you to hear about him being in a motor “accident.��� He wasn’t majorly injured or anything, but he had to stay in the hospital for a couple weeks before he could start physical therapy to learn how to walk again. You felt bad for how apathetic you were about the whole thing. You were just relieved he was out of your life.

You could spend time with your best friends without feeling guilty now, knowing you didn’t have a boyfriend to cater too. You could finally get yourself off without feeling like you were cheating in a way. You were free. But the downside, your crushes on Aemond and Aegon had only gotten stronger. You would have movie nights all the time whenever you weren’t busy with college or your job. You spent time with them and Helaena at the same time and it was lovely. You didn’t know how it managed to get this way, but they’d even spend the night at your flat sometimes. Not that you minded all that much, it just made it harder to act like a normal person who didn’t have extremely strong feelings for someone, or someones.

It often was the same way, you, Aegon, and Aemond all sitting on your couch watching some stupid movie, much like tonight. And like always, you sat between the two brothers. But something felt different, it felt more charged. Electrified. Maybe it was because Aemond had his hand on your thigh, squeezing occasionally, as if he hadn’t really noticed what he was doing. Or maybe it was because Aegon had his arm over your shoulder, leaning into you just enough you could smell his shampoo. You felt hot all over, and what made it worse, a sex scene in the movie started to play.

It was eerily silent, and you could’ve sworn you heard your heart beating wildly. Aemond squeezed your thigh so hard you shifted in your spot with a wince, making you lean into Aegon more, which in turn made Aegon squeeze your shoulder. You felt like you were going to start hyperventilating, so you did the only thing you thought to do. You quietly excused yourself, claiming you needed a glass of water. And you did, the cool liquid flowing down your throat with ease, but it only made you wish something else was flowing down your throat…

You were startled out of your thoughts by Aegon gently calling your name, “You alright there, love?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” You stuttered, turning around and leaning against the counter. “Just thirsty.”

“Yeah, you seem really thirsty.” He smirked, coming closer to you slightly. “You sure you’re alright, you seem a little frazzled. Did something happen? Did Julian contact you? I sweat, if that bastard-”

“No, nothing like that Egg, I promise. I just…”

When you didn’t finish your sentence, Aegon walked closer and closer to you, your heart starting to race. You tried backing up but you were already pushed up against the cool counter of the kitchen, making it easy for Aegon to corner you. You felt your face heat up as you started to feel his body heat. You cursed yourself silently as you felt your clit start to throb, a wetness starting to leak out of you. “Is there something you’re not telling me, love?” He asked.

You didn’t say anything, but Aegon could tell what you wanted to say. Ever since you started spending more time with him and his brother, they figured out you must’ve had feelings for both of them. Aemond was the first to suspect it, as observant as he was. He noticed the way your pulse quickened whenever he held your hand as “friends.” He saw how your chest heaved whenever each of them got close to you, though Aegon never noticed before. But now, after hearing all over his little brother’s observations Aegon could see the lust in your eyes, saw how your chest heaved. He placed a hand just over your left breast, feeling how fast your heart was beating. 

“Aegon…” You whispered, and he couldn’t help but place his lips against yours. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your mouth, a small tear running down the side of your face. Aegon’s hands ran up your sides, gently squeezing the fat that shaped the body he loved so much. Oh, how he wanted to lift you up onto the counter, pull your pajama shorts and panties to the side and shove his cock deep inside your heat as far as you could take him. But you were different, maybe he would’ve done that with someone he didn’t care for, definitely back when he was a troubled youth. No, he had to treat you with care, and also the deal he made with Aemond. He couldn’t have you all to himself, at least not yet.

Aegon let out a whine as he forced himself to pull away, leaving the both of you breathless. “If you hadn’t already figured it out, I have some pretty strong feelings for you, love.”

“Oh, Aegon, I do too…but-”

“Aemond. You have feelings for him as well.”

Your eyes widened. “How did you-”

“We figured it out some time ago, and we’re fine with it. We, uh…have some to an agreement, if you’ll hear us out.”

Before you could question anything he was talking about, Aegon led you back to the living room, where Aemond was sitting patiently for the two of you. “Please tell me you didn’t fuck it up.”

“I don’t think so?”

Aegon sat you down in a chair opposite of them, letting you have the space to back out if you needed. They didn’t want to overwhelm you just yet. Aemond leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “So, I assume Aegon told you about our agreement?”

“Just that you had one.” You answered, which caused Aemond to shoot a glare at his older brother.

“I thought it would be best to talk to her about it together, dickhead.”

“Anyway.” Aemond growled. “Aegon and I…both have feelings for you, and we know you have feelings for us. It wouldn’t be fair to ask you to choose, so we’re willing to share you…if you want.” It was like a dream come true, no, too good to be true. You couldn’t believe it. Were you dreaming? You must’ve been dreaming. “Are you still with us?”

“This…is a lot.” You sighed shakily, but you knew what your body’s answer was, you just didn’t know how you could mentally handle it. “I do want both of you, but how would that work? I know how…uh, jealous you guys can be, especially of each other. How would you handle sharing me?”

Aemond and Aegon gave each other another one of those silent looks, one of those looks that spoke a thousand words without even opening their mouths. “You’re more important to us than our jealousy. We want you in our lives, and we’re willing to do anything to keep you here.” Aemond answered.

“So, if you’re willing, we want to make you happy. But if you don’t feel comfortable…we will understand.” Aegon spoke, but his eyes were pleading, begging that you’d agree.

In the end, you knew what your answer would be. You loved those boys so much, so you couldn’t imagine having to choose between one of them or choosing neither. Why not choose both?

“You…” You smiled shyly, “have my permission to share me.”

And like a switch flipped in each of them, gone were their nervous and hopeful expressions, they were now replaced with an almost predatory and lustful gaze. You could feel the weight of two pairs of eyes looking you up and down like a meal, your core clenching around nothing. You had never been more aroused than you had ever been in your life, you could practically feel yourself dripping. The feeling got even worse when Aemond stood up from the couch, sauntering over to you and leaning his hands on the armrests of the chair you sat in. You craned your head up to meet his gaze, your eyes heavy with desire as he bit his lip and groaned softly, like he was scared of letting himself go. His silver chain that he often wore snuck out of his shirt and dangled below his neck, and it was driving you crazy how sexy this man was.

Aemond chuckled darkly as he noticed you squeezing your thighs together, causing you to blush and look down, but he gently placed his index finger underneath your chin, lifting your gaze back to his. “Tell me what you want, sweet girl.” He whispered smoothly, his voice grazing over you like silk. 

You whimpered when he reached down to squeeze your thigh. “Aemond, please…”

“Please…what? Hm?” You huffed in frustration, your body so heady with arousal it was hard to put the images in your head to words. “I can’t help you if you don’t use your words.”

“Aemond.” Aegon interrupted, and you both looked over to see him watching in amusement at your interactions with each other. “Our poor girl is so needy she can’t speak properly. You’ve been around, what do you think she wants to ask of you?”

Aemond hummed, shifting his gaze back to you. “I imagine…our pretty girl wants me to taste her pretty pussy. Am I right to assume so?” You nodded quickly, the thought making you whine. “Not good enough, love. I’m going to need you to say yes or no for me.”

“Yes, Aemond! Please…” You whined.

“Oh,” Aegon chuckled, “look who’s using her words now?”

You tensed when Aemond started to get on his knees, clenching your thighs together. “What’s wrong?” He immediately asked, and you blushed, your reasoning a bit embarrassing. “It’s okay, you can tell me. Is this not what you really want?”

“That’s not it at all, I just…” You huffed, putting aside your nervousness. “I’d like to have my first kiss with you first…”

A beat passed, one that almost lasted too long before you started to feel even more embarrassed. But Aemond smiled, a genuine, toothy smile. It was a rare thing to see him smile like that. Most of the time, he smirked or tried to hide his teeth. But god when he really smiled, it was as beautiful as Aegon’s. Aemond leaned forward, still on his knees, so you had to lean down to meet him slightly. You wondered how his kisses would be different from Aegon’s. With Aegon, when he kissed you for the first time, it was heavy weighted and passionate, he leaned his whole body against yours, almost bringing you into a hug at the same time. You felt like you couldn’t escape his kiss in the best way. But with Aemond, at first his kiss was soft and light, like he was kissing someone for the first time; but when you met him with the same eagerness, he deepened the kiss by bringing his hands up to cup your face, tilting his head to fully slot his lips perfectly against yours. It was a gentleman’s kiss, but no less passionate. If you hadn't already been sitting, you would’ve gone weak at the knees.

Aemond pulled away from you slowly, a soft clicking noise as your lips broke apart. He hummed lowly, “I always knew you’d taste so good. I’m sure your other lips will taste just as sweet.” You gasped loudly as Aemond removed your shorts and underwear in one swift motion, his eye darkening as he saw how soaked you were already. “So wet and I’ve only kissed you. Come see, brother.”

Aegon all too eagerly crossed the room to witness your wetness, his grin making a pang of arousal surge through you so strongly it almost hurt. “Like a fuckin’ virgin.” He stood behind you as Aemond placed a soft kiss on your clit, making your back arch and head loll back against Aegon’s waist, his hands rubbing your shoulders as you whimpered from Aemond’s touch. “You gonna be a good girl for us?”

“Yes, Aegon.” You breathed out, then breathing in sharply as Aemond licked up and down your folds with a groan. “Fu…”

“Mmm,” Aemond groaned, “so sweet, just like I thought.” You bit your lip as he pressed two fingers inside you, a noisy squelch giving away just how turned on you were. “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight. Relax, or else you’ll never be able to take us.”

Aegon leaned down and started to kiss your neck, his hands reaching down to grasp at your hardened nipples. “Such a sweet girl, you’re doing so well for us, aren’t you? Taking Aemond’s fingers and tongue so well.”

You let out a borderline pornagraphic moan as Aemond thrusted his fingers inside you while flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit, Aegon’s finger roughly pinching your nipples getting you way too close way too fast. You wanted this to last so bad, but they didn’t show any signs of stopping and you weren’t about to stop them either. “Are you close already, beautiful?” Aemond asked, and you nodded. “Do you wanna come so soon? I can stop if you’d like.” He teased, sensing how desperate you must’ve been.

“No, no, please, Aemy, please. Please, I wanna come so bad. Please, let me come.” You sobbed.

“Didn’t even have to ask you to beg for it. Good girl. Come for me. Come on my fuckin’ fingers.”

You let out a strangled whine as your first orgasm washed over you, your whole body tensing and relaxing as your pussy contracted around Aemond’s fingers, your clit throbbing intensely as his tongue bullied it expertly. “Such a good girl.” You heard Aegon say, his voice sounding far away as you came down from your high.

“Did you like that, baby?” Aemond asked, palming his cock through his sweatpants. Did he even need to ask? “Aegon, you should have a taste too.” Your eyes widened, knowing how sensitive you are after you come. You wouldn’t be able to handle it. But that didn’t seem to matter to them, as Aegon quickly knelt to the floor, burying his face and tongue in your cunt, making you squeal.

“Fuck!” Aegon purred into you, fucking your pussy with his tongue, your eyes rolling to the back of your head in overstimulation, your mouth open wide practically drooling. Aemond took advantage of that, pulling his cock from his trousers and guiding it gently into your awaiting mouth, taking him eagerly.

“Damn, baby, your mouth feels so fuckin’ good, fuck…” Aemond groaned, restraining himself and making sure he didn’t fuck your face too hard, although you didn’t seem to mind. You were slobbering and moaning on his cock, the slight vibrations making his dick twitch from how good it felt, having to pull out before he released too early. “Need to feel that pussy around my cock.”

“I’m not fuckin’ done here.” Aegon growled, determined to make you come on his mouth.

“She’s too sensitive, she won’t be able to.” That comment from Aemond only seemed to spur him on.

“Are you doubting my abilities, brother?” You had to cover your mouth from screaming when Aegon started to suck on your clit, making you arch your back and twitch against him, not sure if you were trying to get away or push him closer. And you couldn’t believe it, but you were getting closer to another orgasm. Aegon’s mouth sloppily kissing and sucking your clit was too much, it was painful but you didn’t want it to stop.

You were writhing in your chair, Aemond having to hold you down so you didn’t fall off or hurt yourself in any way, the force of his hands holding you making your orgasm rise quickly burst out of you like a fountain, spraying onto Aegon’s face, who was grinning like Cheshire Cat. “Fuck, that was so sexy, darling. If I thought you could handle it, I’d make you do that again.”

“Please, don’t…” You chuckled breathlessly.

“Think you’ll be able to handle something else, then?” You nodded meekly. “Let’s take this to the bedroom, shall we?”

Aegon and Aemond led you on wobbly legs to your bedroom, kissing all over your body wherever there was naked flesh. Already two orgasms in, you were sensitive all over, your skin tingling and tickling from their kisses. You could feel each of their hard, throbbing cocks grinding against you. You reached out blindly, not knowing whose you touched until you heard Aegon groan. “Fuck, darling, you drive me crazy. Think you can take us?”

“Anything you want.” You moaned as Aemond cupped your breast, taking your nipple in his mouth and sucking harshly.

“I want to fuck that tight cunny of yours.” Aegon growled, flipping you over onto your stomach, making you face Aemond, his cock intimidatingly erect. You instinctively licked your lips, wrapping them just over the head of his cock, making him moan. You whined when you felt Aegon push into you slowly, his thick cock stretching your channel so deliciously, feeling every ridge and vein. You had to come off Aemond’s dick when Aegon bottomed out, your face contorting in pleasure. He wasn’t as long as Aemond, but he was so incredibly thick and you could tell you were going to be sore in the morning. “Gods, so wet and tight for me. You alright, love?”

“Yes.” You moaned, trying your best to suck Aemond off properly, your spit and drool running down your chin and drenching his balls. “Fuck!” You shouted as Aegon started a steady pace, the blunt tip of his cock hitting your cervix over and over. “So…deep…feels so good, Aegon.”

“Doing so well, like you were made for this.” Aemond moaned, starting to fuck your face gently, your gags and tears spilling from you spurring him on further. You probably thought you looked like a mess, but you were beautiful to him. To both of them. The way your brows furrowed when they went too deep, your face slightly red with blush and exertion, the pretty noises you made; they were cuntstruck.

“Fuck, gods, no, not yet.” Aegon grunted, his cock twitching inside of you. “Your pussy feels too good.” He moaned, wanting to slow down but ultimately pistoned into you with a force that made you surge forward and gag on Aemond’s cock deeper. Aegon let out a beautiful low groan as he came inside you, his hot sticky cum painting your inner walls white.

Before you could do anything, Aemond was pushing Aegon out of the way, quickly replacing Aegon’s cock with his, filling you to the brim immediately, causing you to cry out. “Her pussy’s that good, huh?” Aemond taunted, groaning loudly as he fucked you like he was trying to break you.

“Yes.” Aegon answered simply, laying next to you, lazily stroking his cock as he watched your facial expressions, wanting to get hard again. “Such a pretty girl.” He kissed you passionately, paired with Aemond’s thrusts made your head spin.

“Gods, I could fuck this pussy forever���” Aemond moaned, pushing the small of your back into the bed, forcing you to arch your back for him, his cock hitting deeper and deeper.

“Please…!” You whined obnoxiously, making the boys chuckle. You felt so out of it, the only thing registering was how good Aemond’s cock was making you feel. “Fuck! Ah!” You sobbed, feeling your uterus contract, another powerful orgasm starting to bubble up inside you.

“Can I fuck you again, darling?” Aegon asked softly, his cock already hard again and ready for you.

“No way, not now, not when I’m so fuckin’ close.” Aemond growled, keeping his body hunched over you protectively.

“I didn’t say you had to stop. If she’ll let me, I’d like to use that other tight hole of hers.” Your eyes widened, a deep pang of arousal surging through you like lightning at the thought of being so thoroughly filled by both of the men you loved. “It’s okay if you’re not comfortable-”

“Yes.”

“Uh, are you sure-?”

“Yes, Aegon! Please! I want you both to fuck me at the same time.”

Aegon smirked, looking at Aemond. “Well, you heard the lady.”

Aemond positioned himself under you so that you could ride him, while Aegon got behind you, grabbing a bottle of lube and applied some to your puckered hole generously, pushing a finger in slowly. You whimpered at the stretch, clenching around Aemond’s cock, causing him to grab your hips roughly. “Relax.” Then Aegon added another finger, then another, trying to match his girth to make sure you were prepared for him.

“Are you ready, pretty girl?”

“Please, Aegon.” You threw your head back against Aegon’s shoulder as he started to push in, the lube and the way he prepped you making it a not too terrible stretch. You could feel a stomach ache coming on, but gods, you didn’t want this to ever end. “Fuck…” You sobbed as he started to thrust into you gently, Aemond doing the same.

You never thought you’d pass out during sex, you couldn’t possibly believe it could feel that good. But these men proved you wrong, and you felt like you could collapse at any moment. You felt like a boneless fish, at the mercy of Aemond and Aegon, each thrusting with abandon, passing you back and forth like a game of tennis. All you could do was hang on for the ride and take it, moaning like a pornstar was all you had to put your energy in, not like you could help it.

Your third and most powerful orgasm came over you suddenly, wracking your body with chills and spasms, yelling so loud you were pretty sure you’d get noise complaints from your neighbors. But you couldn’t care less, with how amazing you felt, it was like an out of body experience. “Good fuckin’ girl, taking both our cocks so well.” Aegon moaned, kissing and biting your shoulder. “Fuck, gonna come again.”

“Me too.” Aemond moaned, “You want our cum deep inside both your holes, hm?”

“Yes, Aemond, yes! Come in me, please…” Both Aegon and Aemond let out deep groans, filling up both your holes with their cum, making you feel so full and complete. They both pulled out of you slowly, gently laying you down in between them on the bed. You shifted uncomfortably when you felt their cum leaking out of you, making a mess of your thighs and sheets. But it didn’t matter when they both cuddled up against you, making you feel so safe and secure.

“Are you okay, baby?” Aemond asked, caressing your cheek.

“More than okay.” You giggled, still breathless. You all were so sweaty, you’d all need a shower.

“That was amazing.” Aegon sighed, cuddling into your side like you were a teddy bear, his arm reaching over your waist while Aemond smoothed out your hair. “You were amazing.”

There was a beat where each of you just cuddled one another, steadying your breathing and taking in each other’s warmth. It was nice, almost as nice as the sex, but it didn’t stop you from thinking, “What happens now?” Your shy voice echoed in the now quiet room.

“Now?” Aegon mused. “Now, we do that again and again.”

Aemond rolled his eye at Aegon’s quip, continuing to smooth your hair down in a comforting manner. “Like we told you before, we both want you, and we’re both willing to share you. Like a polyamorous situation. We weren’t lying about how we feel about you, you know that.”

“If that’s alright with you, darling. We’d like to be your boyfriends, if you’ll have us. Our ancestor did the same thing…but the reverse…and with his sisters. So comparatively, this is normal.” Aegon chuckled.

Kissing both of their cheeks, you relaxed into their embrace. “Then yes, I’d love to be your girlfriend, both of yours.” You giggled when they both started kissing your cheeks, pawing at you like they wanted to go another round. “I can’t imagine the family gatherings won’t be awkward from now on.”

“They’ve always been awkward, love, that’s nothing to worry about.”

didn't mean for it to be this long oops🙈

[pascaloverx]

STARVE

Summary: You lost your husband some time ago while he served as a gladiator for Emperors Geta and Caracalla. General Acacius saved you from becoming an object of pleasure for the emperors. Since then, he has taken you as his mistress. In your free time, you became a disciple of Ravi, the healer, dedicating yourself to tending to wounded gladiators. All seemed to be in perfect harmony until Hanno, a gladiator driven by a thirst for vengeance, crossed your path.

Author's Note: And the gods said: Starve will be a multi-chapter fanfiction (I hope readers will follow it all the way through). Without further ado, the characters belong to Ridley Scott's Gladiator II universe, though there will be significant deviations from the film. Historical accuracy regarding life in the Roman Empire may not always be strictly observed, so I hope you can overlook that. Yes, this story revolves around a love triangle, but I will strive to satisfy everyone. This fanfiction will include adult content, violence, and potentially coarse language. Enjoy!

one three

TWO

Days, perhaps more, have passed. You and Hanno have been meeting in secret, seizing moments when there was no sign of General Acacius. All that you were permitted to know was that he was recovering in the company of his beloved wife, Lucilla, who made it clear she wanted no trace of your presence near her husband. The absence of Acacius weighed upon you more than you cared to admit. To be denied access to him felt akin to holding your breath for far too long. Yet, your clandestine encounters with Hanno had proven to be a welcome distraction, enough to keep your mind from lingering too deeply on what you could not change.

"Your gladiator is requesting your care, Y/N. And while we are on the subject, your encounters under the pretext of physical care will soon spark rumors," Ravi remarks as he steps into the chamber where he keeps his healing tools. "General Acacius will be the first to rage if he learns of your escapades. Should Emperors Geta and Caracalla grow suspicious, they may presume you are seeking a new lover. Not to mention the possibility of Macrinus taking offense at your growing closeness with his gladiator." You remain crouched, organizing a collection of herbs, a faint smile tugging at your lips. Hanno needs you—or rather, he has summoned you for yet another session of personal defense training.

"Ravi, believe me, I am well aware of the risks I take in daring to draw close to Hanno. Yet, I choose to take them—something no one of sound mind would do. General Acacius will not always be there to save me in the future. Lucilla has made her stance on my involvement with him abundantly clear. You do not see him here, concerned for me, do you? Precisely for that reason, I must think of the future." You speak as you search for the garment General Acacius once left at your disposal, should you ever need to fight.

"Since you are so determined to take such risks, be cautious. The guards will bring Hanno to be treated, and you will have only that time to practice—whatever it is you two practice," Ravi warns, much as he does each time you and Hanno meet, repeating the same cautions.

"I shall change my attire. If you would, dear friend, make Hanno comfortable until I return," you say, rising and moving toward the exit of the space where you and Ravi have tended to countless gladiators. "If all goes well today, I shall be one step closer to becoming more than a healer or a lover. I shall be the closest thing to a warrior I can aspire to be." Ravi nods, though a hint of worry lingers in his expression. He is the closest thing to an ally you have.

Time rushes by when one is on the brink of doing something forbidden, but you no longer concern yourself with the consequences. You are resolute to take control of your destiny, even if that control is but a sliver. Once dressed, you secure the dagger Acacius once gifted you in a hidden compartment of your attire. It is your small but vital secret, and you are steadily improving in its use.

With purpose in your stride, you make your way swiftly to where Hanno is awaiting you. When you arrive, his eyes brighten at the sight of you. "I see your delay is justified; you look prepared for battle. Let us see if you can land a blow," Hanno says, advancing toward you with a predatory gait meant to intimidate.

You meet his gaze with an unflinching smile. "Save your words for when we’re truly facing off, gladiator," you reply, following him to the familiar training grounds. It is the very arena where countless gladiators sharpen their skills, preparing for the moment they will stand before the emperors in the grand coliseum.

As soon as you step into the center of the training grounds, Hanno strikes without warning. His sword arcs toward you, narrowly missing as you instinctively step back. At the start of this combat practice, both of you wield swords, though your grasp on its use remains novice.

"Have you lost your sanity, Hanno? I wasn’t ready," you exclaim, fixing him with a glare of irritation. He advances on you again, silent and relentless, as if transformed into a stranger intent on attack. His gaze is unwavering, his resolve sharp.

"When you’re defending yourself, no one will wait for you to be ready, nor will they show you mercy. I want you to see me as you would see any foe who dares strike at you," Hanno declares, his sword slashing toward you again. You react, relying on your defensive maneuvers, retreating step by step until a strategy for counterattack begins to form in your mind.

"I’m not so sure; you seem to be enjoying this far too much," you retort, timing your movements before landing your first offensive strike. It catches him off guard, a flicker of surprise flashing across his face. The gap between you narrows, charged with the thrill of the fight and something deeper, more electrifying.

"I am enjoying it just as much as you enjoy patching me up with that brute strength of yours, healer. Now, focus," Hanno says, parrying your blow with unnerving precision. It’s like a dance—each movement perfectly countering the other. You attack; he defends. He strikes; you block. The rhythm between you is almost hypnotic, an eerie harmony born of tension and skill. But then, in a risky maneuver, Hanno manages to disarm you. Your sword flies from your grasp, landing far out of reach. Now standing mere steps apart, your eyes meet, both of you breathing heavily. It feels like the end for you, so why not take a chance?

With a surge of reckless determination, you rush toward him, channeling all your strength into an attempt to topple him. In your mind, it isn’t Hanno you’re facing—it’s an enemy, someone who would do you harm. Your unexpected move catches him off guard, and he falls to the ground. By sheer luck or fate, his sword slips from his grip as well. Now, you find yourself on top of him, both of you unarmed. The air between you is charged, your breaths mingling as silence envelops the space.

"It seems I have bested the great gladiator of Macrinus," you say, pressing your body lightly against his, a triumphant smile on your lips. Hanno smirks, his hands firmly gripping your waist as he swiftly reverses your positions, pinning you beneath him with effortless strength.

"Do not be deceived, healer," he murmurs, his piercing gaze locking with yours. But you are not so easily subdued. With a practiced movement, you draw the hidden dagger from your vestments and press it against his neck, the blade gleaming in the dim light. "Your presumption is touching, gladiator," you retort, your tone both teasing and sharp.

"What will you do next, healer?" Hanno asks, his breath warm against your face. The tension between you ignites instantly, palpable and undeniable. Before you can respond, he pulls your face closer to his, his lips capturing yours with a fervent intensity, as though he means to consume you entirely. At first, you almost resist Hanno’s kiss—it feels forbidden, a boundary you should not cross. Since your husband’s passing, Acacius was the only man you had kissed. Yet, as Hanno’s tongue ventures into your mouth, you find yourself surrendering, the kiss quickly becoming mutual.

In truth, Hanno is devouring you, but you refuse to let him take the upper hand so easily. You tug at his hair with force, pulling him closer, demanding his full attention. The kiss deepens, its intensity increasing to the point of no return. You want him to feel your hunger, to know that you wish to consume him just as much. For all its forbidden allure, you crave this moment—not because of duty or obligation, but because you want it. You want to know what it feels like to kiss someone you shouldn't, to rebel against every expectation tethering you. Your husband was not forced upon you, but your marriage had been a safeguard. Becoming Acacius’ lover served a similar purpose. But with Hanno, nothing feels safe. And perhaps that is why you let this moment unfold. There is no security here, no veil of protection. If you and Hanno are caught, Acacius could kill him, both the Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla could execute you, and the repercussions would be endless. Yet, none of that matters as your lips clash with his in this reckless, intoxicating dance of defiance.

The kiss is all-consuming, so intense that, for a moment, it steals your breath. You pause, pulling away to recover the air you desperately need. Yet Hanno seems unsatisfied, his eyes locked on you with an intensity that threatens to unravel your resolve.

His hand cups your face, fingers tracing over every detail as if committing you to memory. When his thumb brushes over your lips, he murmurs softly, "Your lips remind me of hers, my beautiful Arishat." Reality strikes like a sharp blade. He is with you, yet his mind lingers on his late wife. The weight of that truth is unbearable. As he leans forward, seeking your lips once more, you push him away, creating the distance you now desperately need.

"I will not be her replacement," you think, your resolve firm. "Nor Lucilla’s substitute." Avoiding his gaze, your shame and frustration burn within you. Rising quickly, you make your way toward your quarters. You and Ravi must always be prepared to tend to the wounded, so your rooms are close to where the gladiators train and where Ravi keeps his healing tools.

"Healer," Hanno calls out behind you, his voice firm yet laced with something softer. He follows after you, refusing to let the moment end so abruptly.

"Gladiator," you say, turning to face Hanno. Your body nearly collides with his, but you take a step back, halting the chase that had ensued. "Our training is done. I think it would be wise for us to part ways now, so as not to confuse..." You pause, searching for the right word to define what you might be confusing, only for Hanno to step abruptly closer, almost closing the space entirely.

"I am not confused about anything, healer," he says, his tone firm yet sincere. "I was lost momentarily in a memory, but I assure you, I knew exactly who I was kissing." He takes another step forward, his presence overwhelming.

"The act itself is already a problem, gladiator," you reply, struggling to maintain composure under his intense gaze. "We should not have kissed." Before he can respond, both of you hear footsteps approaching. In an instant, Hanno’s hand moves to your waist, pulling you behind him as though to shield you from whatever danger may come. Ravi appears, nearly running toward you, his face etched with worry.

"General Acacius has been seen heading this way," Ravi announces, his voice hurried and panicked. "The guards are murmuring that he’s coming to see you, Y/N. I suggest we get Hanno out of here immediately, and you prepare yourself to receive him."

The mention of Acacius sends a cold dread through you. Him encountering Hanno now would spell disaster. "Tell the guards who brought Hanno to retrieve him from here," you instruct, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside. "Hanno and I will change out of these combat garments, and I’ll distract Acacius while the guards take Hanno back to his cell. Ravi, I’ll need your speed."

Without hesitation, Ravi nods and rushes off to summon the guards. You, in turn, push Hanno toward a secluded area where he can change out of his training gear. "Change in there and wait for me," you instruct firmly. Noticing the swords in his hands, you swiftly take them from him despite his protests. With no time to spare, you carry the weapons back to your quarters while Hanno remains in the area where you and Ravi usually tend to injured gladiators. In the quiet urgency of your chambers, you hastily change your attire, your mind racing with the precariousness of the situation. Hanno waits silently, the gravity of the moment clear to both of you.

"Do you fear what might happen should General Acacius discover your association with the gladiator who recently sought his life?" Hanno asks as you enter the room where he waits patiently to be taken back to his cell.

"I do not fear for myself," you reply, adjusting your tunic with calm precision. "I fear that if you and he meet, there will be unnecessary bloodshed. As I’ve told you before, if you wish to kill him, do so in a duel—before the people of Rome. Sate the appetite of Emperors Geta and Caracalla as they watch you strike at each other in a frenzied battle for glory in the name of the gods."

Hanno listens intently, his expression thoughtful as he steps closer. Without a word, he helps you smooth the folds of your tunic, his touch deliberate yet gentle. "Will you tell him of our association, then?" he asks, finishing his adjustments and letting his hand linger briefly as it grazes your cheek.

"What is there to tell?" you counter, meeting his gaze with resolve. "Our association is no one’s concern." A smile spreads across Hanno’s face, slow and satisfied, as if your answer pleased him greatly.

Moments later, Ravi appears, his expression tense. "The guards are near," he informs, his tone clipped. His gaze shifts between you and Hanno, briefly noting the closeness between you, though he chooses to remain silent. With a small nod, Ravi turns to Hanno, gesturing for him to follow. Hanno casts you a lingering look before allowing Ravi to lead him toward the guards, leaving you behind with the weight of the encounter still pressing on your chest.

You wait patiently for General Acacius to arrive, though his delay stretches longer than anticipated. The thought suddenly strikes you—he might already be in your quarters, as he has been on previous occasions.

"Would you care to explain," his voice calls out, smooth and laced with quiet reproach, "what reasons led my beloved healer, whom I hold in such high regard, to abandon me to the care of Ravi instead of tending to me herself?" Turning toward the source, you find him stepping into view, pulling back the mantle that had concealed his face and form. His approach is measured, deliberate, and his gaze briefly flickers to the swords you had left behind without considering they might draw his notice.

"You should have sought explanations from your wife, General Acacius," you reply, your tone calm but firm, though the effort to keep it so is greater than it seems. "It was she who instructed me, in the presence of the guards no less, to withdraw from tending to your care." His footsteps pause near the swords, his attention drawn to their gleaming edges. The air between you grows heavier as his eyes shift back to yours, narrowing slightly as he regards you. You remain steadfast, though the distance you keep from him feels tenuous, as if he could close it with the simplest of steps.

"I was not informed of such a decision; I would never have allowed my care to pass from your hands to another's," General Acacius speaks softly, his tone a mixture of calm and yearning as he moves toward you with deliberate caution, yet there is a palpable hunger in his eyes.

"General, whether you authorized it or not is irrelevant," you reply, holding your ground though the weight of his presence begins to press upon you. "Lucilla no longer wishes for us to remain close. Surely, you remember that when all this began, you told me that if your wife were ever to object to our association, even if it was merely for appearances, it would end."

Your words are firm, yet the truth they carry sinks heavily into your own heart. You know now, with certainty, that the chapter of your life entwined with Acacius is nearing its inevitable conclusion.

"Those words were spoken before we became what we are today," Acacius responds, his voice steady yet filled with a quiet intensity. "Surely you know I have no intention of abandoning you." He steps closer, his gaze unwavering, his nearness suffocating in its allure.

"Do not worry for me. Your pity is no longer necessary, Acacius," you say, though the ache in your chest betrays the pain these words bring. Deep down, you have long feared that what he felt for you stemmed from nothing but pity.

"I have never pitied you," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with conviction. "Perhaps I felt empathy for your pain in the beginning, but after that—everything was real. Your presence makes me a better man." His hand reaches up to touch your face, tenderly tracing its contours as if to soften your resolve. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, an intimate gesture meant to draw you back to him, to coax you into his embrace once more.

"You owe your loyalty to your wife, not to me," you say, your voice faltering slightly under the weight of his gaze and the warmth of his touch. "We must no longer allow ourselves to feel anything beyond what is proper, Acacius." Even as you speak, your resolve weakens beneath his touch, his words a balm and a temptation all at once. He seems heedless of your protest, intent only on closing the distance between you.

"Lucilla has my loyalty, but you... you have my protection. I will not leave you unguarded," Acacius says, his lips almost brushing against yours, his voice weighted with emotion.

"Then you should know that my loyalty is no longer yours exclusively," you reply, steadying yourself as you deliver the words. You feel the sharp recoil in Acacius as he steps back, his expression hardening, though disbelief flickers in his eyes.

"I am involved with another," you continue, forcing the lie to your lips with a strength you did not know you possessed. "It may mean that I will no longer require your protection in the future." Your words are a dagger you wield with precision, for you know that to continue as his lover would jeopardize his marriage—a risk you cannot allow, no matter the desires that linger within you.

"Who would dare attempt to claim you, knowing that you are mine?" General Acacius demands, his voice edged with irritation that betrays a rare crack in his calm demeanor. His gaze narrows, his presence no less imposing, but the fury brewing beneath his words sends a shiver through you. You realize the fire you have kindled within him may burn brighter than you anticipated.

"Someone who does not fear the wrath of General Acacius," you say, your voice steady despite the undeniable pull of his proximity. You desire him, undeniably so, but you know you must not have him.

"It is clear that our involvement must end—now. Before it concludes in disaster," you declare, watching as Acacius processes your words, his gaze shadowed with an intensity that seems both pained and unyielding.

"Then let it be clear to you," Acacius responds, his tone laced with an unwavering authority, though no threat lies in his words. "Whoever dares to encroach upon what is mine will meet the edge of my sword without delay. Our bond will not be severed while either of us draws breath, Y/N. Keep that in mind." His declaration is resolute, not spoken as a plea but as a statement of his immutable commitment to you. It leaves you breathless, the weight of his words pressing against the fortress of your resolve.

"You cannot protect me forever, Acacius. Just as I cannot heal you forever," you murmur, stepping closer, your desperation palpable as though silently begging him to release you—to let you go before you both reach a precipice from which there is no return.

"Mea domina," he whispers reverently, stepping closer and pulling down the fabric covering your shoulder with deliberate care. His lips press softly against the exposed skin, lingering as if to seal a silent vow. The tenderness in his touch conveys more devotion than desire, a gesture that leaves you caught between longing and regret.

"I would die if necessary, but I will not abandon those I hold in the highest esteem. You and Lucilla are my priorities, and I will relinquish neither of you. If you place so much faith in this new interest of yours, let him come to me bearing a sword, and he shall find his end," he declares, his voice unwavering and resolute, his words resonating like a solemn oath.

Acacius lifts his hand to gently cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as his lips trace a path of soft kisses along your temple, down to the curve of your jaw, and finally your forehead. His lips linger as if memorizing each contour of your face, avoiding your mouth deliberately—a clear boundary, or perhaps his way of expressing silent reproach for the words you have spoken. The kisses feel like a claim, yet also a farewell—his way of both cherishing and punishing, of reminding you of his commitment while withholding the one intimacy he knows you yearn for. The intensity in his gaze as he pulls back speaks volumes, as though he is willing you to see the depths of his resolve. "At times, it feels as though battle is all you truly understand, Acacius," you say, holding his gaze with a penetrating look, as if unraveling the depths of his thoughts.

"I am a man of honor," he replies, his tone firm yet measured. "I will not seek out the man who dares to involve himself with you, but neither will I stand idle should he attempt to take what is rightfully mine." His presence remains close, commanding and resolute, as though he seeks to claim not just the space but the moment itself. With deliberate care, Acacius reaches out, his hand brushing your face in a touch that is at once gentle and laden with unspoken meaning. It lingers, as if he wishes to commit every contour of your features to memory.

Without another word, he steps back, retreating from your chambers with the disciplined stride of a general accustomed to carrying the weight of empires. His departure leaves the room heavy with unresolved tension, the air thick with the echoes of what cannot be spoken. Alone, you are left to ponder the tangled web of emotions and loyalties binding you to both Acacius and Hanno. The weight of your entanglement bears down upon you, as inevitable as the arena’s call to blood and glory.

[mydearestbeloved]

#?.6 [Chapter Concept]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

Content Warnings: Some OOC-ness, kinda crack-fic (my poor attempts at humor), & UNEDITED

⚠️ MINOR SPOILER ALERT to my Trial Player AU

*This is Trial Player AU's Side-stories/Sequel Materials—subject to change. Draft-status—not detailed, messy, and currently lack major relevance to the main story.

This scenario is so unserious 😂, but I wanted to share something more light-hearted after posting that summarized drafts of The You I Love.

Take this with a grain of salt.

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

You had spent the better part of the day organizing the house, tidying up and preparing dinner for your husband. Jinwoo had been particularly stressed lately, and you wanted to do something to lift his spirits. Humming softly to yourself, you made your way to the living room to call him for dinner.

“Jin, I—!” you started, pushing open the door to his study with a cheerful tone, only to freeze mid-sentence.

Three Jinwoos turned to face you.

The first was a younger Jinwoo, looking bewildered in his baggy hoodie and longer hair—the telltale appearance of his E-rank self. His wide eyes darted around the room nervously, trying to make sense of the situation.

The second was a hardened yet cautious version of Jinwoo, his posture rigid, his sharp gaze fixated on you with a familiar suspicion. This was him in the early days of leveling up, you took a lucky guess this Jinwoo had encountered you, but didn’t fully trust you he met yet, much less the current you.

And then there was your Jinwoo, standing between them with an exasperated expression, his broad shoulders and the way he instantly perked up at the sound of you immediately marking him as your husband.

“Love—” your Jinwoo began, but before he could get another word out, you held up a hand.

In a yoga-like motion, you brought your hand together, lips touching the sides of your fingers.

Deep inhale…

—And exhale.

“Haha, yeah, no.”

Without giving any of them a chance to respond, you spun on your heel, marched straight to the nearest window, and vaulted out of it.

. . .

Inside the room, the three Jinwoos stared at the empty space where you had just been.

“Did… did she just—” Oh, the lovely, lovely, lovely E-rank!Jinwoo looked completely baffled and horrified.

“She jumped.” A?-rank!Jinwoo stated flatly, his suspicious gaze flickering toward your husband. “What the hell is going on here? And what's up with her?”

Jinwoo—who just seconds before being asked looked on pleadingly to the you who supposedly decided to let your dear husband handle this himself, left him alone—pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling a headache coming on. “She’s my wife,” he said, with a hint of irritation spiking when he didn’t exactly want to correct himself say the word—‘our’.

Both younger versions of him stared at him in disbelief and more.

“W-wife?!”

E-rank!Jinwoo sputtered, his face turning bright red. “I-I get married? To her?”

A?-rank!Jinwoo’s lips parted, but Jinwoo quickly interjected, “You’ll understand later.”

Jinwoo’s fingers twitched. “I don’t have time for this,” he muttered, grabbing his phone when a notification came in. “I need to get back my wife.“

Outside, you landed gracefully on the lawn, brushing yourself off with a resigned sigh. The cool evening air did little to quell the flustered heat.

“…At least it’s not multiverse-shenanigans again,” you muttered to yourself, already pulling out your phone to text your husband.

Me: I can handle you, but 3 of you???

Jinwoo💕: Sweetheart, please don’t leave me.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face.

Me: I’m staying at Hae-in’s. Or Mom’s.

Not even three seconds passed before your phone buzzed with a reply—

Jinwoo💕: Please, come back? 🥺

—And he started using emoji.

You bit your lips.

It was going to be a long day.

——oOo——

The moment your little Aera reached out her tiny hands toward A?-rank!Jinwoo and squealed, “Pa-pa!” with all the enthusiasm her little lungs could muster, time seemed to stop.

Everyone in the room:

Absolute silence.

A?-rank!Jinwoo froze, brain clearly short-circuited, a myriad of emotions flashing across his face—confusion, awe, fear, and something dangerously close to adoration.

“P-Pa…?” he choked out, staring at the small bundle of joy who was now babbling nonsensically while insistently reaching for him. His entire existence felt like it was collapsing under the weight of this tiny child, who, according to logic, should not even exist yet.

Jinwoo, standing off to the side, twitched violently. His lips parted to say something, but nothing came out. His eye twitched again. Finally, he turned toward you with a pleading expression.

“(Name)…” he began, “My dear, my love, my star, my goddess, my queen, my wife, mother of my children—” Oh. Oh. Your husband was definitely crashing out right now, “did Aera just—?” He cut himself off, as if even saying it might make the heartbreak worse.

You, still standing awkwardly by the door, suddenly found yourself in the worst position imaginable. If you denied it, you’d hurt your husband. If you confirmed it, you’d definitely hurt your husband. You felt the weight of his expectant gaze, but also the absolute need to protect your sanity.

“I…” you started carefully, your eyes darting between the three Jinwoos and the two children now playing in the middle of the chaos. “…need my morning coffee. It’s way too early for this.” Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and walked straight toward the kitchen.

Jinwoo let out a low groan and slumped into the nearest chair, his head in his hands. You didn’t even have to look back to know he was growing mushrooms in the corner, spiraling into an existential crisis at the realization that his daughter’s first word wasn’t for him (technically).

E-rank!Jinwoo, meanwhile, was sprawled on the carpet with Aera’s big brother climbing all over him. There was a distant, blissed-out smile on his face as Baby Suho tugged on his hair with surprising force.

“I get married…” he murmured to himself in awe, his voice almost reverent. “I have kids… a family…” His eyes turned misty as he gently poked Suho’s chubby cheeks, causing the little one to giggle. “She’s beautiful… They’re beautiful… My future is beautiful…”

His bliss was interrupted when Suho decided to slap him across the face with a tiny, surprisingly strong hand. “Bah!” Suho declared.

“Yes,” E-rank!Jinwoo said, utterly unbothered as he cradled his cheek. “Even that feels beautiful.”

A?-rank!Jinwoo, still cradling Baby Aera in his arms like she was made of glass, stared down at her with wide eyes. She babbled happily, patting his face with her tiny hands and tugging at his hair. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

“…She’s my daughter,” he whispered, his voice almost breaking. He looked up at Jinwoo, eyes brimming with confusion and wonder. “She’s my daughter?”

“Yes,” Jinwoo mumbled from his corner of despair. “And apparently, she loves you more.”

A?-rank!Jinwoo blinked, staring at the tiny child in his arms who was now trying to gnaw on his finger. His lips twitched into a small, helpless smile.

When you returned with your coffee in hand, you were greeted by the sight of:

Your husband still brooding in the corner, muttering about betrayal.

A?-rank!Jinwoo gently bouncing Aera in his arms with a soft, almost boyish expression.

E-rank!Jinwoo letting Suho climb all over him, grinning like an idiot despite his slightly disheveled state.

You sighed deeply and sipped your coffee. “I swear, they are in so much trouble.” You muttered.

Baby Aera, hearing your voice, turned toward you and squealed,

“Ma-ma!”

At least that was something.

——oOo——

BONUS:

Chaos. Absolute chaos.

There was no other word to describe the utter pandemonium that unfolded in your living room.

You barely reacted when the ceiling decided to gift you another migraine.

CRASH.

You remained sipping your coffee for the nth time today as ‘Trial Player’!You landed in a heap of dust and debris on the living room floor, looking disheveled. The younger you blinked rapidly, taking in the scene of three Jinwoos, two babies, and you casually sipping coffee in the midst of it all. Not missing the slightest detail of matching rings on your and the oldest-looking Jinwoo’s finger.

“What…is… this…?” She scrambled to her feet, backing into a corner like a trapped animal. “This—this isn’t real. This can’t be real. I got married? I got married to Jinwoo???” ‘TP’!You’s voice went up several octaves, pointing a trembling finger at A?-rank!Jinwoo, who was still being emotionally annihilated by baby Aera, looking entirely lost in her cuteness.

“And I have child—” Her voice crackedas she finally registered Baby Suho with E-rank!Jinwoo. “C-Children…”

The chaos didn’t stop there. With a snap of your finger, the cabinet door opened in your signature golden glow, fully expecting what you’d find. Sure enough, another version of yourself, younger than ‘TP’!You—Hermit!You—came tumbling out, looking disheveled and thoroughly irritated.

“Was that really necessary?! I was fine where I was—”

Hermit!You didn’t get to finish her complaint because E-rank!Jinwoo, with Suho hanging off his shoulder like a delighted little koala, wrapped his arms around her in a hug like he’d just found the missing piece of his soul.

“You,” E-rank!Jinwoo said, his voice soft and full of awe. “It’s you. My benefactor…” His hold on her tightened, and he rested his chin on her shoulder with a dazed, but definitely an incredibly happy-kind of expression.

“Thank you.”

Hermit!you combusted on the spot. In record time. You could practically see the steam coming out of her ears, spluttering incoherently, completely immobilized as Suho patted her cheek.

Meanwhile, ‘TP’!You was hyperventilating.

Before you could even begin to address the madness, your husband decided to add to the chaos. Suddenly revitalized after his earlier devastation, Jinwoo marched over, picked you up with one arm, and hoisted ‘TP’!You up with the other.

He sandwiched his face between your chests with a satisfied groan, a gesture you were all too familiar with. ‘TP’!You, however, was not.

Her flustered as she flailed in his grip.

“W-What are you doing?! Unhand me, you—you—perverted future me husband thing!”

You could feel Jinwoo’s hold tightening on both of you.

“I’m in heaven,” he declared, his dreamy murmur muffled against your skin.

You remained perfectly calm, sipping your coffee with a smile. “You will be,” you said sweetly, your tone saccharine enough to curdle milk, “if your wandering hands on my younger version don’t stop, dear.”

Jinwoo froze. ‘TP’!you stopped struggling in horror. Hermit!You, still in E-rank!Jinwoo’s hold, managed to mutter, “Oh, she’s—I’m scary.”

“…Noted, my love.” he said meekly, though he made no move to put either of you down.

And as you took another sip of your coffee, watching everything and nothing at the same time—

System?

{…Yes?} {…Yes?} {…Yes?}

—There were three of them? …Of course, there were. Your migraine wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

You, Neonie, and Tusk are in timeout until further notice.

{ (╥﹏╥) }

All of you.

{ (╥﹏╥) } { (╥﹏╥) }

…Just prepare the memory-alter mechanism while you’re at it.

In another plane of existence—

Butterflies to each other versions of them in eerie synch: “Hello! ~”

Two versions of shadow soldiers simultaneously: “By our King(s?)’s will and our Queen(s?)’s benevolence, there’re triple of them…”

Three Neonies praying for their life: “Mother is going to kill me…”

Two Tusks also not knowing what to do: “…at least our Liege(s?)’s seems (kinda) happy…?”

End Note:

Extra explanations for those who's confused:

E-rank!Jinwoo: The version of Jinwoo before the system, haven't meet you (Hermit!You at the time), already aware of someone helping him.

Hermit!You: The version of you freshly out of the garden, still pretty isolated, already started helping E-rank!Jinwoo in secrecy.

A?-rank!Jinwoo: The version of Jinwoo after the system, already meet 'TP'!You but is still at the getting-to-know you stage, still not fully trusting you.

'TP!You: The version of you already discovered by A?-rank!Jinwoo, before his rank reevaluation.

Just "You" and "Jinwoo" (exclusive to this draft): Already married and have kids in the revised timeline.

It's straight back to college for me tomorrow 🥹

I want to write more... 😭

Anyways—happy reading, everyone! 💕

[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Keep Your Eyes on Me

tara carpenter x female reader

part i | part ii

summary: You’ve quickly become close with all of Tara’s friends, but her trust issues keep her at a distance from you. But maybe you're able to chip away at her defenses...

word count: 2.2k

————

"I don't get why no one else is suspicious of her!" Tara exclaims looking around at everyone with a frustrated expression. "Mindy? You're literally suspicious of every living thing. And Sam what the fuck, you don't let me leave the house unless I'm carrying a cross bow or something," she exaggerates rolling her eyes.

"Why are we speaking about me like I'm not here?" You whisper to Chad next to you while ripping your string cheese into strands. He laughs but so does everyone else, seems like your whisper wasn't as quiet as you thought.

Tara groans frustrated and heads up the stairs, leaving her friends and you in the living room in an awkward silence.

Sam was the first to break it, "She'll come around, it's just been hard on her you know? Trusting new people and all that fun stuff."

You give her a nod completely understanding the root of Tara's issues with you, it wasn't personal but that didn't mean her distrust in you didn't sting. Especially considering it's been four months since you met the group.

"I am curious though," you speak, "She's not wrong Mindy, you're sus of everyone. And Sam why do you trust me too?"

"Well you met my brother playing pickle ball," the twin speaks. "Pickle ball doesn't really strike me as a psychopathic killer activity," she laughs.

"Neither does string cheese. Can you imagine Ghostface stringing their cheese and eating it?" Sam adds with a laugh.

You don't know whether to be relieved or offended that your habits don't indicate you to be a killer. But you're grateful that the rest of the group clicked with you quickly after Chad introduced you to them.

The core four minus Tara sometimes wanted to smack the girl across the head for being so oblivious and blind to you. Before you met the group Chad being the yapper that he is, explained all that happened in the past year and a half, so you were fairly well equipped with knowledge on how to navigate a friendship with everyone.

Everyone also noticed how attentive you were to Tara especially.  You didn't know what it was but you immediately developed a soft spot for the girl when Chad told you all she went through. Meeting her for the first time you instinctively felt the need to protect her but that's been quite hard with her negative feelings towards you, but that doesn't mean you don't try.

————

Sam eventually goes up to Tara's room once everyone leaves and decides to put an end to this.  The younger Carpenter looks at her sister from her bed when the door is opened at a speed where its hinges could fly off.

"Jesus Sam, why are we trying to break my door."

"What the hell are you doing Tara?" Sam gets to the point ignoring the question.

"What are you talking about?"

"Y/n."

"Ughhhhhh!" She turns around face planting into her pillow with a groan, hating the topic of you.

"It's been four months and you haven't once given the poor girl the benefit of the doubt." The sister says softly. "I don't know why you're so keen on hating her, it's like you want her to be Ghostface just so you can prove a point."

Tara turns around to respond, clearly annoyed.  "Because it's so clear she doesn't have good intentions!  I don't get you either sis, you want me to be cautious of people, but it's a problem when its Y/n?"

Sam sighs moving to sit on the foot of the bed, "Tara, do you not see how much that girl cares about you?"

Tara is silent and looks down at her fiddling hands not knowing what to say.  She does know how much you care and she hates it.

All those times you would come over to her place with the excuse of "Mindy sent me to grab something" but you always stayed until Sam got home from work, just so she wouldn't have to be alone.

"Clearly you do realize how much she cares for you," Sam says taking notice of her sister's silence and demeanor.

Tara turns red recalling how you would always be attentive to the leg that Ghostface broke a year ago.  You would always position yourself so she'd have access to the railing of a staircase. Offer to drive her places that may have seemed like too lengthy of a walk. Straggle behind the group when you realized she couldn't walk as fast as the others. And even deprive yourself of any physical activities that the group was participating in, so Tara wouldn't feel alone when she sat out.

"The damn girl literally sits in the kitchen whenever your hungry ass wants to cook something so you'd feel safer!" Sam suddenly says. "Even I hadn't thought about how being in the kitchen may give you PTSD."

Tara hadn't either. But now that she knew the reason why you'd sit with her in the kitchen, she realized that she did feel much more comfortable with you in there then the times you weren't. After all she did have her attack take place in the kitchen. The brown eyed girl shrunk into her sweater in shame as she recalled how poorly she treated you that day.

You leave the group who were playing an intense round of charades in the living room and decide to join Tara who was alone in the kitchen.

"Hey what are you making?" You smile.

She ignores you and continues to get the seasoning out for the mac and cheese she was making herself.

"Why aren't you playing with everyone else?" Tara suddenly spoke.

"Just wanted to see what you were up to."

"Well you can leave now," she rolls her eyes.

"I'm good, I'll stay here."

"You do know that you aren't winning any points with me by trying to talk to me and forcing proximity right?" Tara says with attitude. "I still don't trust you and if your goal isn't to kill me, but just to get in my pants, then I'm so sorry if I ever made you believe that you had a chance with me." she finishes sarcastically feigning a genuine apology.

"Not my goal," you reply keeping it short. You knew the girl would not receive anything you say, so you got up from the seat you initially took at the island in the kitchen and went to the dining table which was a little further away. Tara thought that you left since she didn't hear any comments from you anymore and her pride was too high for her to turn around and check if you were still there. She couldn't control the frown that was making its way onto her face. That was until she heard you scrolling through TikToks at the table and suddenly felt a sense of relief that couldn't be explained.

She would continue to finish her mac and cheese and tried to hide her laugh from any funny TikTok sounds she heard from your phone. And tried her hardest to shutdown her curiosity whenever she heard your laugh. As soon as she finished making her bowl, she walked out of the kitchen not even glancing at you. She was too stubborn to realize that she hadn't once thought about her attack due to your presence in the kitchen.

Until now.

"That's why I trust her Tara," Sam reveals. "She notices things that I don't. I can't always be watching out for you. You need to have a bunch who have your back, and for that to happen you need to take a chance on people here and there."

"Just think about it. Just separate your idea of Y/n being Ghostface and the possibility that she can betray you. And ask yourself what kind of person is left standing in front you. And is that the type of person you want to take a chance on."

————

Two weeks have gone by since the group last saw each other, and since then you and Tara were able to do a lot of individual thinking. Today the group decided that they went too long without seeing each other and they all decided to go to bar in downtown Manhattan.

Everyone decided to meet at the Carpenter residence, and Tara hated to admit it, but she was excited to see you, but she also felt nervous at the thought of being around you.

You were the last to arrive, and you greeted all your friends with a smile. Tara was waiting with a smile for you to greet her like you always do, but it never happened.

You ignored her.

"Is everyone ready to go?" You say looking at everyone except Tara.

The shorter girl had to compose herself before anyone realized that she was bothered by your lack of acknowledgement. She didn't know how to feel, what in the world were you doing?

The group made their way to the subway in one piece, and the two Carpenter sisters were walking side by side while everyone else was a little ahead.

"What the fuck is Y/n doing?" Tara whisper yells to her sister.

"What do you mean?" Sam replies playing stupid.

"She's not even looking at me?" Tara admits, not caring at how childish she sounds. "Why isn't she paying attention to me?"

Sam laughs at what two weeks of not seeing you and some deep reflection has done to her sister. "I mean what do you expect, it's not fair for her to keep trying for someone who doesn't make the same effort. She's probably done trying." Despite her words, Sam didn't believe a thing she was saying, she wondered what the intentions behind your actions were, but the Carpenter knew it was nothing ill.

Tara makes a hmpf sound, and tries to act unbothered by her sister's words. But the idea of you not having your gaze on her worries her more than she would like to admit.

Meanwhile 20 paces in front the sisters you and the twins are having a interesting conversation of your own.

"I can't do this anymore!" You whine looking at Mindy.

"Girl, stand the fuck up, it's been 20 minutes since we left the house, can't you see that it's already working?"

Chad chimes in, "Honestly I agree with my sister for once, she'll be yours by the end of today."

"W-whoa I don't want her to be mine or anything," you blush. "She's gone through a lot, I just need her to tolerate me, you know?"

Mindy rolls her eyes but smiles, happy that Tara has someone patient like you in her life. "Yeah yeah Y/l/n, now walk faster, it's not like she can run and catch up."

Your jaw drops while Chad drops dead in laughter.

Everyone manages to get onto the same subway cart in one piece, and you realized how much harder it was going to be acting like you can't notice Tara in here. The subway was packed from one end to the other. And you just so happened to be standing next to the only available seat.

You glance at Tara only to see her already looking at you and you immediately look away. Trying to get Mindy's attention you some how try your best to mime to her that you want Tara to sit in the free seat. Though of course Mindy's horrible charade skills translate into real life and she ends up sitting in the seat herself.

You face palm at your friend, and gave up on trying to look out for Tara. But in that very moment you notice a man getting far too close to the girl than you would like. It was a crowded cart so proximity was a given, but this seemed deliberate on the stranger's part.

Acting without thinking, you shove the guy as casually as you can to the side, not realizing that it meant you are now face to face with Tara. Just as you were about to break and speak to her, the subway doors open at your stop.

Tara hated that the doors interrupted the words you were going to say to her, but was grateful that it got her attention off of you before you could notice the blush on her cheeks.

As everyone got off the subway, you find yourself straggling behind the group out of habit. Just as you attempt to quicken your pace, you feel a tug on your sleeve.

Tara looks up at you with her big eyes, and you don't know what to do. This is the first time the girl has looked at you without rolling her eyes or looking away immediately.

"I'm sorry," she mutters.

You didn't know what to say, and continue walking with her by your side, so you don't fall too far behind from your friends. "It's okay," you mutter back looking straight ahead. 

You don't blame the girl for her behaviours.  Her traumas manifested into something difficult and she was making an attempt to be better. That's all that mattered to you. And maybe you were just too weak for the girl that you would let anything slide, but you were fine with that too. 

Tara smiles at you, happy that you weren't giving her a hard time. Happy that you understood what those two words she just told you encapsulates.

Suddenly she grabs you by your arm and holds it as you walk side by side.

Startled by her touch you look at her.

She smiles up at you, "It's easier for you to keep your eyes on me this way. No need for secret glances."

next chapter

[simplypaisleyjane]

Chasing You

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC Avery Simpson

Summary: At The Hard Deck Jake Seresin spots a stunning woman who he has no business getting involved with. But he doesn’t know that yet. When he figures out her father is an admiral, his interest only deepens. But she’s not as easily impressed as Jake may have hoped. Will he win her over? Or will the chase be more than he bargained for?

Part 2 is HERE

Warnings: I don't think there are any :)

Tags: I want to thank @mynameismckenziemae for supporting me and encouraging me to post this! If you haven't yet, definitely check out her stuff!

Also tagging @djs8891 @khouse712 @withahappyrefrain @86laura11 because it seemed like you may have been interested based on the Ask on McKenzie's page! (If you'd like to not be tagged just let me know!)

The Hard Deck was filled with it’s usual noise, a mix of laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft background music coming from the jukebox. Jake Seresin leaned against the far back wall, beer in hand, casually scanning the room figuring out who he wanted to spend his evening talking to.

His gaze stopped when he caught sight of a woman leaned against the bar, sipping her drink and talking to Maverick and Penny near the corner of the bar. She laughed, her smile lighting up the space, and Jake’s interest was instantly piqued.

“Hey, Bradshaw,” Jake nudged Bradley with his elbow, tilting his head towards the bar. “Who’s that?”

Bradley glanced over his shoulder, following Jake’s line of sight. When he spotted Avery Simpson, a knowing grin spread across his face. “Oh her?”

“Yeah, her,” Jake said, curiosity laced in his tone. “She’s gorgeous. You know her?”

Bradley turned full toward Jake now, pretending to consider the question. “Actually, I do. She’s real sweet.” He paused just long enough to make Jake suspicious before adding, “I think you should go talk to her.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, clearly weighing the risks. “You serious?”

“Oh absolutely,” Bradley replied, his voice laced with mock encouragement. “She’s single. And you’re you, right? What could possibly go wrong?” He tipped his glass, hiding the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

Jake chuckled, straightening his shoulders. “You’re not wrong, Rooster. Wish me luck.”

Bradley raised his glass in a silent toast. “Oh, you’re gonna need it,” he muttered under his breath, watching as Jake strode across the bar like a man on a mission.

As Jake approached, her laughter died down, and she turned slightly. She met his gaze with curious eyes. Penny and Maverick exchanged a glance, their conversation stalling as they took notice of Jake’s approach.

“Hey,” Jake started, his signature drawl turned up to full charm mode. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I couldn’t help noticing you from across the room. I’m Jake.”

Avery arched an eyebrow, her expression friendly but cautious. “Avery,” she replied simply. “Nice to meet you, Jake.”

Before Jake could respond, Maverick spoke up, his voice casual but carrying just enough weight to make Jake pause. “Hangman, you do know who her father is, right?”

Jake’s grin didn’t falter—much. “No,” he said confidently. “Should I?”

“Probably,” Maverick replied, leaning back with a smirk, “he’s sitting over there.”

Jake’s eyes flicked in the direction Maverick gestured. Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson sat at a table, his expression unreadable. But his gaze firmly on Jake.

Jake turned back to Avery, his confidence shaken slightly but not broken. “You know,” he said with a sheepish laugh, “I think I left my beet at the pool table. Don’t go anywhere.”

Avery smirked as he retreated. Back at the pool table, Bradley was doubled over absolutely dying. His laughter barely contained as Jake smacked him on the shoulder.

“You’re a real piece of work, Rooster.” Jake muttered.

“Worth it,” Bradley managed to say between laughs. “You retreating already, Bagman?”

“Retreat?” Jake scoffed watching as Avery went back to her conversation. “Nah, Rooster. I’m just regrouping.”

Bradley’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh yeah? And what exactly is the plan now?”

Jake’s smirk widened into something almost wicked as he turned back towards the bar, fixing his collar and brushing his fingers through his hair. “Simple. I’m going to get her number.”

Bradley barked out a laugh, nearly spilling his drink. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” Jake started toward her again, then stopped to look back at Bradley who’s smirk was now full blown.

Bradley shook his head half in disbelief and half in amusement. “This is going to end so badly, and I can’t wait to see it.”

As Jake approached a second time Avery sighed inwardly, though a small smirk tugged at her lips. He was persistent, she’d give him that. She had half expected him to give up once he realized who her dad was. She’d assumed the excuse about leaving his beer was him tucking his tail between his legs.

“Back already?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jake leaned against the bar, flashing her a confident grin. “Couldn’t stay away. Hard to ignore someone as beautiful as you.” He said smoothly.

Avery rolled her eyes but couldn’t entirely suppress the faint blush that threatened to creep up her neck.

“Is this your usual routine? Flash a smile, throw out some compliments, and hope for the best?”

Jake chuckled. “Depends. Is it working?”

“Not even a little,” she shot back, though there was an undeniable flicker of amusement in her eyes.

Jake took that as a win. “Good. Wouldn’t be worth if if it were easy.”

She turned back to Maverick and Penny, a clear dismissal. If he was just looking for a quick lay for the night he could find it with someone else. But instead of walking away, Jake stayed put, like he had all the time in the world. 

“Still here?” Avery asked without looking at him. “Let me guess, you’re one of those pilots, aren’t you?”

Jake’s grin widened. “Guilty as charged. And you? Let me guess…Cyclone’s daughter?”

She finally looked at him, eyes narrowing slightly. “If you already knew that, why are you still here?”

Jake shrugged, gaze unwavering. “Because you’re gorgeous, and I don’t scare off that easily. Besides,” he added with a wink. “I like a good challenge.”

Avery huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “Good luck with that.”

Jake laughed softly to himself, taking the hint for now. He walked back to the back of the bar where the pool tables were and stopped beside Bradley, who was watching the whole exchange with poorly hidden amusement.

“She shut you down, didn’t she?” Bradley asked, grinning.

Jake picked up his beer, taking a long sip. “She’s just playing hard to get.”

Bradley snorted. “She’s not playing, man. She’s actually hard to get.”

Jake glanced over his shoulder at her, catching the way she smiled at something Maverick said. A genuine, soft smile, not the guarded one she’d given him. His smirk softened just a fraction as he turned back to Bradley.

“Even better,” Jake said, leaning against the bar. “That just means she’s worth it.”

Bradley raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sincerity in Jake’s tone. “You’re really not giving up, huh?”

Jake’s smirk returned, but there was a glint of something more genuine in his eyes. “Not a chance.”

A few weeks later The Hard Deck was buzzing again. It was a typical Friday night, the kind where voices blended with the clinking of glasses, where the scent of salt and beer filled the air.

Jake Seresin sat at the bar, nursing a beer, laughing at one of Coyote’s terrible jokes, when his attention shifted.

Avery. She was outside, seated at a small table near the edge of the patio, absently twirling a straw in her drink as she stared out at the ocean.

And this time?

She wasn’t surrounded by Maverick, Penny… or her father.

Jake barely heard Coyote nudge him. “Hangman, you listening?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake muttered, already rising to his feet.

Coyote followed his line of sight and smirked. “Oh, this should be good. You really gonna try this again? You know who her dad is, right?”

Jake didn’t respond. He just shot him a wink before making his way toward Avery.

Avery saw him approaching out of the corner of her eye and sighed. Of course he was coming over. It wasn’t like she hadn’t expected it, but she’d hoped that after the last time, he’d take the hint after the last time that she wasn’t interested.

“Evening,” Jake said smoothly as he slid into the seat across from her without waiting for an invitation.

Avery raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. “What are you doing?”

Jake flashed that infuriatingly perfect grin. “Just keeping you company.”

Avery gave him a flat look. “Who said I wanted company?”

“Call it a hunch.” Jake was completely unfazed. “You looked like you could use someone to talk to. Or, you know, someone to distract you.”

Avery tilted her head, studying him. “Distract me, huh? And what makes you think you’re qualified for the job?”

Jake smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Because, darlin’, distraction is what I do best.”

Avery rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t entirely hide the flicker of amusement across her face. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“Gotta be with someone like you,” Jake said, his tone softening slightly. “You’re not exactly making it easy for me, are you sweetheart?”

“My name’s not sweetheart. And why should I?” Avery shot back, arching an eyebrow. “You seem to like the chase.”

Jake chuckled, holding her gaze. “Maybe I do. But it’s not just the chase that’s got me sticking around.”

Avery blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. 

Avery cleared her throat, reaching for her drink. “Well, if you’re expecting someone to go home with you, I’m not her. There’s a cute blonde at the bar in the pink dress that might be interested though.”

Jake grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Who said I was looking for someone to go home with me?”

Then, without another word, he stood, gave her a quick two-finger salute, and headed back to the bar.

Avery watched him go, shaking her head.

For the first time, she found herself wondering if maybe—just maybe—there was more to Jake Seresin than his charm and good looks.

The ocean breeze lost its appeal as the night wore on, and Avery found herself wandering back inside The Hard Deck, craving the warmth and the noise of the bar. She sidled up to the counter setting her empty glass down with a soft clink.

Penny caught her eye from behind the bar, smiling. “Refill?”

Avery nodded. “Just a soda, thanks.”

Penny grabbed the glass and began filling it, her movements practiced and smooth. As she waited, Avery’s gaze drifted across the room - right to Jake Seresin, who was leaning casually against the far end of the bar, laughing at something Coyote had said. 

Avery quickly looked away, but not before Penny caught the direction of her stare. 

“So,” she began, sliding the glass back over. “What do you think of him?”

Avery blinked, playing innocent. “Of who?”

Penny smirked. “Jake’s been orbiting you all night.”

Avery sighed, glancing down at her drink. “He’s… persistent.”

“That he is,” Penny agreed, leaning against the bar. “But he’s also not as one-dimensional as he might seem.”

Avery raised an eyebrow. “Meaning what? That he’s not just some cocky pilot who thinks he’s God’s gift to women? Because that’s what everyone around here is saying.”

Penny chuckled. “Oh, he’s definitely cocky. But there’s more to him. He’s loyal, sharp as a tack, and surprisingly thoughtful when he wants to be.”

Avery scoffed, though the words lingered. “Thoughtful, huh? Doesn’t seem like the type.”

Penny tilted her head. “Maybe you haven’t given him the chance to show you that side of him.”

Avery sighed again, fiddling with her straw. “To answer your question, he’s… fine, I guess.”

“Just fine?” Penny teased. “You were staring pretty hard for ‘just fine.’”

Avery flushed, quickly taking a sip of her soda. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Of course not,” Penny said, too amused. “But if you were, I’d say maybe it’s worth it to give him a chance.”

Avery rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. “We’ll see.”

Penny winked before moving on to another customer.

From the corner of her eye, Avery caught Jake glancing in her direction. His grin widened when their eyes met. Avery quickly looked away, cursing the heat rising to her cheeks.

Maybe Penny was right. Or maybe she just wasn’t ready to find out yet.

Avery was halfway through her soda when she glanced over again, catching Jake mid-laugh with Coyote. He leaned back against the bar, looking so relaxed and self assured that it almost annoyed her. Almost.

When his gaze shifted, Avery’s stomach flipped. Jake’s grin stretched wider as if he could see right through her. She quickly looked down, pretending to focus on the melting ice in her glass.

Moments later, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

“Need a refill?”

Avery looked up to find Jake standing beside her, one hand resting casually on the bar. His emerald green eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something else there too - something that wasn’t as easy to dismiss.

Her first instinct was to brush him off again, but Penny’s earlier words echoed in her mind. Maybe she hadn’t given Jake a chance. Maybe she should.

“Sure,” she said finally, surprising even herself. She pushed the empty glass toward him. “Knock yourself out.”

Jake blinked, momentarily caught off guard by her agreement. Then his grin returned, slow and satisfied, like he’d just won a small victory.

“Coming right up,” he said, grabbing her. glass and heading back to the bar.

When he returned, he set the drink in front of her with a little flourish. “One soda. Extra ice, just how you like it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And how would you know how I like it?”

He shrugged, leaning against the edge of the table. “Lucky guess…or I may have had some help from Penny.”

She couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. “Okay, Jake. You’ve got my attention. Now what?”

His grin softened into something more genuine. “Now I get to know you.”

Avery tilted your head, intrigued despite yourself. “And how do you plan to do that?”

Jake pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, his movements unhurried. “By asking you questions,” he said simply. “And, if I’m lucky, you might actually answer them.”

Avery sipped her drink, studying him. “Fine. Go ahead. Ask away.”

He paused for a moment, as if considering his options. Then he asked, “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t gotten the chance to yet?”

The question caught her off guard. It wasn’t what she had expected—not some flirty remark or shallow small talk, but an actual question. Thoughtful. Genuine.

She hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Travel, I guess. There’s a lot of the world I haven’t seen yet.”

Jake nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. “Any place in particular?”

“Greece,” she said, the word slipping out before she could stop it. “I’ve always wanted to see the islands. The history, the views… It just seems like it’d be beautiful.”

“It is,” Jake said, surprising you again.

“You’ve been?”

“Once,” he admitted. “A couple of years ago. Only for a few days, but it was incredible. The water’s so blue it doesn’t even seem real.”

For the first time, she found herself genuinely curious about him. “What were you doing there?”

“Just passing through on leave,” he said with a shrug. “But I’d go back in a heartbeat. Maybe next time I’ll stay longer.”

She cleared her throat, glancing down at her drink. “Okay, your turn. What’s something you haven’t done yet?”

Jake smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Convince you to let me take you out.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. “You were doing so well. Why ruin it?”

He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Just being honest.”

For the first time, she found herself smiling back. Maybe Penny had been right. Maybe there was more to Jake Seresin than Avery had thought.

Note: This is my first time writing any fanfiction that's more than a paragraph or two. And is also my first time sharing or posting what I wrote so I would love to know what you guys think!

I am also considering maybe writing a second part of this that shows you finally giving Jake a chance if there's interest??

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Platonic Yandere Demon Queen Headcannons (1)

Introduction | Part 2 | Kofi

The Demon Queen is adamant that you drink from her even if you're a month off of weening

She just has to get that instinct out 

Constantly holding you against her monumental chest just like she did with her first

Unlike humans who have a nursery, demons make nests

A Soft comfortable place for her and her baby

Hers is in the deep dungeons of one of her many castles

Moving to an identical copy of her nest for wherever she feels like 

Currently, her nest is like a pod

Open and closed by a very specific spell 

The floor is a carpet of flower petals, soft, soothing, and place magically grown to keep fussy babies calm

And that’s what life’s like for you, if not in the soft chest of your new Mama

It’ll be weeks before she will actually part with you to attend her duties

Rarely does she deem any situation dire enough to leave her nest 

But when she does you’re in tow

Swaddled and likely sleeping she has a standing bassinet

Level and matching with her skull-covered throne

“Ah!”

“Yes, we’ll do the obvious thwing mwy lwove!”

“We’ll….proceed with the assassin plan?”

“YES IDIOT! Now go it smells like my baby needs a diaper change!”

Your Demon Queen Mama doesn’t care in the slightest that you’re a human

She loves how long it’s taking for you to grow just a little bit

Demon babes with their extra month in the womb spend less time getting older

Humans on the other hand have a more standard rate of growth

Which she quickly studies up on when she gets concerned that you aren’t speaking yet and can barely lift your head on your own

She proudly hold you in her arms as she speaks to her generals about your development

Her generals will often share there own knowledge about children in concern about hers

While she may scoff and wave them off 

Their concerns usually ignite something she was wondering about

“My Queen is a human babe supposed to not have teeth at this age? Perhaps they’ll need implants?”

“FOOLISH! My baby will need no such thing!”

“I see. Excuse me, my lady.”

“....Say (Y/n) will teeth somehow magically appear within here?”

“Ohhh! Baa!���

Other than the strong learning curve she adores her human baby and celebrates all your major milestones

Making sure to execute anyone who refuses you or even remotely doesn’t pretend to also be so proud

And the first that she does this to is her concubines

You didn’t think she just had this baby with some random 

No no no 

She has a total of three concubines, every now and then she’ll accept another for political purposes but it’s a known fact that they won’t last long

After all her three concubines are known as the three Reapers

One way or another making sure they are the only ones in the Queen’s bed

Something the Queen has always treasured

Loyalty with their entire being

From fear and love a volatile mix of both

The same that she has with you 

And who better to teach you about what to expect than them

She’s…cautious when it comes to you meeting them

While she can’t deny they were among the few who could be near her when she had her…..slump

She also knows their ruthlessness does not stop at rivals in love

anyone who threatens her reign, happiness, and goals they intervene 

Usually without her instruction

She worries they might do the same

But of course both scaring and exciting, the first concubine approaches first

“Oh my Queen! May I sit on the edge of your nest to see your precious baby?”

“You…may…”

She refuses to let her eldest concubine come much closer than that

Already bold to even enter the room, she’s suspicious of her

Her eldest concubine is Milune, gorgeous as she is soft

She’s the Queen’s go-to for comfort

Unbelievably soft in a world full of demons, the Queen adores the balance 

she thanks her human parents for that

“My Queen I’ve brought a specially crafted wunzie for your little one! Can they try it on?”

“They can…but I will inspect it first.”

“Of course!” 

The Queen does recall just how eager she was to help her craft her nest

Lovingly adding her unique magic to the protective spells around it

Recalling a discussion she had with her about being a mother herself

“If my Queen wished it I’d love to conceive for you! Or to handle the raising of the little one when you’re crushing all of humanity! Whatever you wish for your majesty!”

Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad of an idea to let her hold you….only once of course

“Ahh~! Look at you! Aren’t you a joy to behold!”

Milune is holding you up high and filling your face with kisses 

Making baby you laugh

The Queen is torn between happiness at her acceptance of you….and jealousy

Now beginning to master walking, she’s just sad you aren’t crawling only to her anymore

…but she figures its not that bad when she finds a gaggle of elven assassins dead bodies strewn all over the hallway

“They got far too close to the baby, my Queen! Plus the little one just got down for their nap!” 

She’s pretty sure your hearing isn’t that good but she doesn’t mind

In fact she thinks it’s great

Absolutely showering Milune in affection and more responsibility with you

“Oh little one! Come sit in mama Milune’s lap! While we watch your Mama massacre these insolent worms.”

Milune is delighted

As someone who grieved alongside the Queen, your existence brings her a similar joy

And what better way to honor her Queen and love by showering you in the same obsession her Queen adores

When she pretends that your her baby too you are

She’s certain she’d do anything for you and kill whoever she’s allied with to protect you

Including the concubines she’s made a pact with...

TBC...

[cupofteatoyou2]

What if she chose me pt5

The bruise isn’t new. It’s from the match. first match. The one where Alexia chewed through you at halftime and your lungs hadn’t felt full since.

You remember the moment, a poor step forward, a misread rotation. And then a sprint to recover that left your ribs wide open—and the opposing winger didn’t miss her chance.

She barreled through you like you were nothing. You hit the pitch hard. Elbow to turf. Chest to knee. All the air in your body gone in one sharp second.

No whistle. No card. No concern. Just pain.

You remember pushing up before the med staff could reach you. You remember Ingrid kneeling beside you and muttering, “Don’t lie,” and you did anyway.

You told her you were fine. You weren’t.

You played the second half on adrenaline and to keep your pride. And after the match, when you peeled your kit off and caught sight of your side in the mirror, it bloomed in color.

Purple first. Then blue. Then something somewhere between rage and surrender. You haven’t let anyone see it since.

And now, here you are—few weeks later , standing on the edge of training with that same bruise burning under your top. It’s almost faded but pain is not gone.

It pulls with every twist. Every reach. Every breath. But it’s not bad. Not enough to stop you. You could play.

And yet When you jog onto the pitch, boots biting the grass, breath fogging in the crisp air—your eyes find her first.

Jana. She’s already moving. Already working. Already throwing herself into drills with a sharpness you haven’t seen in weeks. She’s moving like someone trying to earn something back. And maybe she is.

You stop at the edge of the cone grid and watch her recover from a misstep, square her shoulders, and demand the ball again.

You can’t look away. Not when you remember her voice from few night ago.

“I wanted to hate her.”

“I’m tired.”

“They don’t need me anymore.”

You shouldn’t have heard it. But you did. And now it echoes in your blood.

You take your place in the drill, jaw tight, lungs already burning before you’ve started. Jonatan splits the group. You and Jana end up on opposite sides of the rotation.

The message is clear one of you will start this weekend. One of you will not.

The ache in your side spikes when you turn. You press a palm to the bruise through your kit. Just enough pressure to remind yourself that it’s still there. That you could use it. If you wanted to.

Because when you glance across the pitch—Jana is locked in. Laser-focused. Alive in a way you haven’t seen in weeks. You remember what she said. Not to you. But about you.

“She’s so solid.”

“And me? I’m still waiting to feel like I’m not temporary.”

You step into the next pass and let your timing be just a little off. Let the touch slip just slightly.

You twist too quickly. Then stop. Grab your side. Not dramatic. Just... enough.

Jonatan notices.

“Hey—what’s up?”

You hesitate. There it is. The moment. Say the truth? Fight for it? Or—

You exhale slowly. Shake your head.

“Don’t feel okay,” you say. “Ribs. It’s burning like hell. Probably shouldn’t push.” His eyes narrow. Not suspicious—just cautious. He knows you. You don’t back down easy.

“You sure?”

You nod. Bite the inside of your cheek. “Yeah.”

He nods. Waves his arm. “Jana. You are starting this weekend.”

She nodded. Small smile is noticeable on her lips. But tries to act cool. Like it wasn’t something she was craving for.

You sit down on the edge of the bench, stretching your legs out like it’s just another day. But your hands are shaking. She slides into the shape drill, shouting for the ball, hitting her marks.

And you watch. Every pass. Every tackle. Every look. And the bruise beneath your top pulses with something deeper than pain. Because now it’s not just physical.

It’s choice. It’s sacrifice. It’s a secret.

You look down at your hands, pressed to your thighs, trying not to unravel.

Then you feel it— Eyes on you. You glance up. Alexia.

She’s standing near the far goal, arms crossed. Watching. Not the drill. You.

You lock eyes. You don’t flinch. She doesn’t either. Her face is unreadable. No scowl. No smile. No pity.

But you know what she’s thinking. You see it in her stillness. In the way her gaze lingers half a second too long.

She knows. She knows what you did. And she doesn’t say a word. Just turns. And walks away.

You wait until the field clears before you move. Your bag is heavy on your shoulder. Not from weight, just… from everything else.

You don’t make it five steps toward the tunnel before someone falls in beside you. Quiet. Unassuming.

Ona.

You don’t look at her. She doesn’t look at you.

But she matches your pace.

You both walk in silence for a few seconds—long enough for it to be comfortable, but not long enough for you to ignore the fact that she came after you. Deliberately.

Finally, she says, voice quiet but not timid

“You didn’t limp this morning.”

You flinch. Just slightly.

Your hand curls a little tighter around the strap of your bag.

Ona doesn’t push. She just waits.

You sigh. “It’s not nothing,” you murmur. “It still hurts.”

“But not enough to stop you,” she says softly. Not accusing. Just… sure.

You glance at her, and she meets your eyes.

There’s no judgment in hers. Just understanding.

You look away. “She needed it.”

“I know,” Ona says.

Another beat of silence. Then “So did you.”

That hits harder than you expect. You swallow. Your throat is dry. “It felt right.”

“It was kind,” she says. “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t cost you something.”

You stop walking. Ona stops too. You turn to her. “Please don’t say anything.”

She shakes her head. “I won’t.” She pauses, then adds, “But just so you know… it doesn’t make you weak.”

“I know that,” you say automatically.

She tilts her head. “Do you?”

You open your mouth. Then close it. Because you’re not sure anymore.

Ona doesn’t press further. She just reaches out and lightly taps your arm, the way someone might close a book after reading the final page.

“I’ll see you inside,” she says. And then she’s gone.

You stand there for a long moment, heart too loud and lungs too tight, staring after her. And maybe it’s the bruise. Maybe it’s the guilt.

Maybe it’s the look on Jana’s face during drills—focused, determined, herself again. But you don’t regret it. Not exactly. You just wish you didn’t have to lie to everyone else… To do something that finally felt like telling the truth.

The stadium hums with that particular kind of noise—matchday noise. The kind that isn't made of cheers or songs, but nerves. Boots clicking against tunnel floors. Velcro tightening. The muted thump of fists against shoulders. Breath warming hands.

You don’t feel part of it. Not today. You’re zipped into your tracksuit, sitting on the bench while your body screams to move, to be in it. But all you can do is watch.

Jana’s name is read over the speakers. Her number. Her position. The crowd cheers. The squad nods, claps backs, taps boots. She jogs onto the field like she never left it.

You watch her the way someone watches a closed door—knowing they can’t walk through it, but still waiting to see what’s on the other side.

You’ve been on this bench before. But not like this. Not after choosing it. Not after making yourself small so someone else could breathe.

The match begins fast—high energy, tight spaces, pressing from both sides. And Jana adjusts quickly. Efficient. Precise. She holds her line with the kind of quiet certainty that earns trust without demanding it.

You’re not surprised. You’ve always known she could do this. It’s the reason you lied.

Midway through the first half, she wins a hard challenge near the sideline. Slides clean, pops up faster than expected, and pushes the ball forward into space for Aitana to chase.

The bench erupts.

Ona slaps the railing and yells something in rapid Catalan that definitely includes a swear and possibly the phrase holy shit.

Aitana points back at Jana with a grin.

The coaches murmur, scribble something on their clipboards.

You sit still. You’re clapping, but not smiling. Not fully. Because watching it happen—watching her reclaim the space—you should feel proud. And you do. But under that? There’s a small, sharp ache. Not jealousy. Not exactly. Just the ache of not being missed.

Right before halftime, she locks down a dangerous switch with a perfect first touch and turns into space like it’s hers. And then, for a split second—she glances toward the bench.

Her eyes sweep across the sideline. You don’t think she’s looking for you. But maybe she is. Maybe she saw. You hold the gaze just long enough for your chest to tighten.

Then she’s gone again—back into the rhythm of the match, back into the center of the moment you gave her. The whistle blows for halftime. You exhale. And you don’t even realize you’d been holding your breath.

The locker room is full of noise again—boots kicked off, instructions muttered, hydration routines kicked in like religion.

Jana sits near the front, head down, unwrapping her tape. She’s calm. Focused. She doesn’t smile. But she feels different. Like she’s reinhabiting her own skin. Like the version of her who’s been folding inward for weeks is finally standing upright again.

You stay quiet in the back, near the extra kits, sipping from a bottle you barely remember grabbing. Mapi tosses a rolled-up sock across the room. Aitana hums something under her breath. Patri checks her ankle tape like it might explode. The team moves on. And you— You stay still.

The second half is more of the same. Not perfect. Not easy. But steady.

Jana plays with something that looks suspiciously like confidence now. She takes a risk with a high press. Holds her shape under pressure. She’s breathing in rhythm with the game, and for the first time, it looks like she trusts herself again.

The bench responds. They cheer. They shout. Ona leans forward with her elbows on her knees every time Jana goes one-on-one.

You feel every second like a quiet pulse under your skin. No one says your name. And that’s the part that sticks. Not being benched. Not being bruised. Just… not being part of it. Not being needed.

Full time.

5–1.

The team wins. The pitch becomes a rush of high-fives, grins, and shouted congratulations. Players jog to the corner flag. Staff claps from the sideline.

Jana gets pulled into a half-hug by Ingrid. Aitana yells something triumphant and spins in a circle. You walk onto the field with the rest of the bench.

You smile. You nod. You say, “Good job,” to someone. Maybe to everyone. But not to her. Not yet. Because you’re not sure what you’d sound like if you opened your mouth.

Later, while the team heads toward the tunnel, you hang back for a second. Just long enough to watch her. Jana jogs past a photographer and waves a quick thank-you to a ball kid.

She looks calm again. Like something is no longer pressing on her chest. And maybe it’s that peace that hurts the most. Because you gave her that breath. And now, all you can do is wonder— Will she ever know?

You file into the tunnel with the rest of them—boots thudding on cement, laughter bouncing off walls, jerseys clinging damp to skin.

The energy is high. Not over-the-top, just bright. Victorious. You move with them, but not quite among them. You're behind the wave, not inside it.

Someone offers you a high five. You take it. Aitana slings an arm around your shoulder for a second, giddy from the win. You smile back, reflexively. But it’s muscle memory, not feeling. And then—Jana.

She walks past you with salma and Patri, expression calm, voice low, her fingers trailing across the sleeve of her jacket as she peels it off.

For a moment, you think she might stop. Say something. Look. Acknowledge you in some small way. She doesn’t. Not because she’s cold. But because she doesn’t know. No one does. To them, you sat this one out. To them, you're just a player with a sore rib and a spot on the bench.

Not the one who watched the moment she gave up a dozen times bloom beautifully in someone else’s hands. Not the one who chose that silence, and now has to live in it.

The locker room is loud again. Mapi’s already pulling off her socks, talking about the free kick no one remembers. Aitana’s trying to hijack the speaker. Marta is yelling about the playlist being cursed. Someone opens a bottle of sports drink and it explodes across the bench.

The chaos is comforting, in a weird way. It means things are okay. Normal. Alive. You move through it like a ghost with a smile on its face. You take off your boots. Tape your fingers. Sit on the edge of the bench and unwrap the compression sleeve around your ribs slowly, carefully, like removing armor you don’t get to wear again.

The bruise is Still there. Not dark,but noticeable. You stare at it for a long second. Then pull your hoodie on before anyone sees.

Across the room, Jana is laughing and it’s real. The soft kind of laugh that comes when something inside finally unclenches. She’s talking with Mapi now. Ingrid tosses her a water bottle. Patri claps her shoulder and says something that makes her roll her eyes and smile. You watch the team absorb her again. Welcome her back without hesitation.

They don’t know what it took. They don’t need to. That’s what you told yourself. That was the deal.

But the quiet part of you—the one still curled around your own bruised breath—wonders if there’ll be a moment where someone sees it. Where someone asks.

Not for credit. Not for thanks. Just… to be seen. Just once. By her.

Outside, the sky is starting to darken. The bus waits in the lot. The cold creeps under your sleeves. You step out with the others, hood pulled up, hands in your pockets. Behind you, you hear someone laugh—Mapi again, probably—and then a quiet voice you know too well.

Jana. You don’t turn. You don’t look back. You just walk onto the bus like it doesn’t matter. Like it didn’t mean something. Like it didn’t cost something.

You take the window seat near the back and press your forehead to the glass. The outside world blurs. And in the reflection—you catch a glimpse of her boarding behind you. She doesn’t sit beside you. She doesn’t even pause. But her reflection glances in your direction once—and you don’t know if it was accident or instinct. But it lingers. And that, somehow, is worse than if she hadn’t looked at all.

Because it’s enough to keep you hoping. And not enough to make it stop hurting.

The bus pulls into the training ground, and as soon as it stops, the team scatters like water on concrete.

Everyone moves fast. Unspoken routines kick in. Car keys. Kit bags. Spare sliders. There’s laughter, back slaps, light swearing. The glow of a win still hangs over everything—but it’s fading now, giving way to fatigue.

You’re the last to stand. You grab your bag slow, not because you’re sore—but because you’re trying to delay that moment where it’s just you, alone in the cold, pretending to check your phone while you wait for your ride to show up.

You step off the bus. Half the parking lot’s already emptying out—cars reversing, headlights cutting through the dark.

You don’t notice her until she speaks.

“Need a lift?”

You turn, heart catching in your throat for reasons you don’t name. Alexia.

She’s not even looking at you. She’s already halfway to her car, keys loose in her hand like this whole thing is optional.

You hesitate. “I’m okay.”

“Didn’t ask if you were okay,” she replies. “Asked if you needed a ride.”

It’s not friendly. It’s not cold, either. It’s just direct. And that’s worse, somehow.

You sigh. “Yeah. Sure.”

She nods once. Doesn’t wait. Just unlocks the doors and slides in. You follow.

The car is quiet. Uncomfortably so.

No music. No small talk. Just the quiet squeak of the windshield wipers as they clear a few drops of late rain and the faint buzz of the engine under your feet.

She drives like she does everything—precise, measured, no frills.

You stare out the window, counting passing lights. Your bag’s in your lap. Your fingers haven’t stopped fidgeting with the edge of the zipper since you got in.

The silence stretches. Then—

“You didn’t have to sit out.” Her voice is calm. Flat. Not accusatory, but not warm either.

You blink. Look at your hands. “Yeah.”

“She would’ve been fine. Either way.”

You nod once. “Probably.”

“She’s not weak,” she adds.

You let out a quiet breath. “I know.”

Alexia shifts lanes, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping the indicator like she’s thinking through something harder than this conversation.

Then— “She’s better when she thinks no one’s watching.”

You glance at her. “That a compliment or a warning?”

Her lip twitches. Not a smile—more like a shrug in expression form.

“Just a fact.”

Another beat. Then“She looked at you.”

You freeze. Alexia doesn’t elaborate. You say nothing.

You didn’t think anyone noticed. Not during the match. Not that moment. The way Jana’s eyes found you for that breath of a second.

“She does that sometimes,” Alexia says, keeping her eyes on the road. “When she thinks it’s safe.”

You don’t respond. You can’t. Because your chest hurts again, and it has nothing to do with your ribs.

“She doesn’t talk much about you,” Alexia continues. “But she doesn’t stop watching you either.”

You grip the edge of your bag tighter. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“I know,” she says. Cuts you off without heat.

You let that hang in the air between you. Neither of you fills it. You watch streetlights blur by outside the window.

She pulls into your street. Parks, engine still running.

She doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t ask if you’re getting out. Just sits there. One hand on the wheel. Still. You reach for the handle. But pause.

Your voice comes out too quiet. “Did it matter?”

Alexia doesn’t ask what you mean. She knows.

She says, “Not to everyone.” Then she adds—softer “But it mattered.” You nod. Stare straight ahead.

“See you Monday,” she says.

You open the door. Step out. Close it gently. She drives away without waiting for anything else.

And you stand there, on the curb, in the quiet night with the streetlight hitting just wrong—and for the first time all day, you let yourself feel it.

The pride. The ache. The silence. And the truth of it all

You didn’t disappear. But you did fade for a time. And somehow, Alexia saw it happen. Not with pity. Not with kindness. But with something that almost—almost—felt like respect.

Your phone is screaming when you wake up.

It’s vibrating nonstop, face-down on your nightstand like it’s trying to crawl off and escape the incoming apocalypse.

104 unread messages.

3 missed calls.

2 voice notes flagged by WhatsApp as “potentially unhinged.”

The group chat is on fire.

Mapi

EMERGENCY VIBES MEETING WAKE UP, COWARDS

Mapi i had a dream that we missed our only chance to go on a girls’ trip and i woke up sobbing

Mapi we deserve sun. and alcohol. and a pool where i can float and not think about defensive shape.

Aitana you were already floating in yesterday

Mapi I WAS MANIFESTING

Ingrid

Can we please pick somewhere with decent water pressure this time?

Marta I vote beach. And a grill. And at least one hammock.

Ona I’m not going if there’s a goat.

Patri

what kind of vacations do you think we’re planning???

Vicky someone find a house and post three options. democracy will decide.

Mapi democracy is a scam unless I win. i want a cliff house with ghosts and ocean views and a cursed mirror

Aitana you want Midsommar

Mapi i want freedom

You stay curled under your blanket, scrolling one-eyed through the chat, barely awake, already winded from the sheer volume of nonsense flying around.

Ona is shutting down every questionable idea with surgical precision.

Marta is spamming house listings—some nice, some deeply suspicious.

Patri is trying to get people to commit to a plan like a responsible adult.

Mapi is losing her mind in six languages.

It’s chaos. Beautiful, feral chaos.

You scroll through another dozen messages until someone starts a new poll labeled

THE VIBE

Beach and Wine

Cliff and Fire

Chill and Healing

Feral and Possibly Illegal

Mapi votes twice. You laugh into your pillow.

Then, halfway through a new thread where Aitana suggests shared groceries and someone says “NO WE ARE FREEFROM SPREADSHEETS,” you pause.

Because something tugs at your memory.

Tamariu.

It’s quiet. Coastal. Tucked away. Not flashy. Just peaceful. You went once—years ago. And something about it still sits soft in your chest. You scroll back to the main thread. Type without thinking

Y/N Tamariu’s nice. Small. Chill. Sea’s good. Market coffee slaps.

You send it. No emoji. No tag. Just that. You toss your phone on the bed like it didn’t matter. Like your heart didn’t skip when you pressed send. You go brush your teeth. Come back. The chat has exploded.

Mapi i googled it. 10/10 would haunt someone there

Salam THE WATER LOOKS SO BLUE MY SOUL JUST GOT CLEANSED

Marta i think i found a house. it has a pool and a roof deck and like… eight beds?

Vicky send the link. please, god.

Patri does it have kitchen knives that won’t cut air?

Ingrid And beds not made of concrete?

Mapi DOES IT HAVE A VIBE??

Marta yes. a haunted-but-hot vibe. it’s perfect.

Aitana i’m packing already

Mapi dibs on the bathtub for morning regrets

Ona dibs on locking my door

You scroll back for a second to check your own message.Just curious. And there it is. Not in the replies. Not loud. Not direct.

Jana liked your message.

Just that. No follow-up. No words. Just one quiet, deliberate tap of acknowledgment.

Buried between Mapi yelling “I CALL THE LEFT SIDE OF THE MOON ROOM” and someone sending a playlist full of vibey synth music labeled “vacation moodboard.”

But it’s there. It’s her. And it lands hard. Because after everything— after all the silence. the side-eyes. the tension. the way she never said anything, even when you stepped off the pitch for her— this is the first thing she’s given back.

It’s not big. It’s not loud. But it’s real. And it’s hers.

The chat keeps spiraling. Someone suggests a packing theme. Someone else says they’ll bring tequila and healing crystals.

Mapi tries to form a carpool and offers to drive despite three unresolved parking tickets and a complete lack of GPS trustworthiness.

The whole thing is ridiculous. Loud. Messy. Alive. And you? You don’t type anything else. You just sit there on your bed, watching the chat burn, smile tucked under the edge of your blanket— And think

She saw it. She saw me. Even if she didn’t say anything. Even if no one else noticed. She did.

[chrissssssmut]

You can make one of a handsome and funny boy, even charming, who was doing Omegle with some people, while playing on the computer, until he stops at a very famous Kpoper, Jang Wonyoung who was on a break from rehearsal, he didn't know she was an Idol and more or less that she was extremely famous and the It girl of the fourth generation of Kpop, they have a conversation with some flirting, She asks for his Instagram and before she can tell him hers, she switches to someone else, to another conversation. Well, at least she had her profile now.

Yandere Wonyoung

YOU ARE NOW CHATTING WITH A RANDOM STRANGER

Yandere Wonyoung x Male Reader

AN: Do you guys want a part 2 for this? Let me know!🫶🏻

You’re doing absolutely nothing productive.

Your left hand is buried in a bag of sour cream chips while the right toggles between your game and the mouse. You’re not even really playing anymore—just idling in some fantasy MMO you downloaded on a dare. The kind of game that still has pixelated rabbits dropping gold coins. The screen blinks. You hear the familiar chime.

Another stranger pops up on your Omegle screen. You’ve been on here for like… thirty minutes now. Seen a couple of dudes vaping, someone cosplaying as Spider-Man, a grandma knitting silently while glaring into the camera. Nothing worth sticking around for. You’re about to skip again when—

“Hi.”

It’s a girl this time. Pretty. No—insanely pretty.

She’s got long, dark hair cascading down over a loose rehearsal hoodie. Her skin glows even under the shitty lighting, and her eyes sparkle like she’s got a secret she won’t tell you until the third date. She’s sipping bubble tea with a red straw and leaning casually on her hand.

You blink. “Oh. Wow. You’re, like… real?”

She lets out a soft laugh. “I hope so. Otherwise you’re flirting with a ghost.”

You grin, half-charmed, half-dazed. “You’d be the prettiest ghost I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Smooth. Is that line number twelve or fifteen for the night?”

You chuckle. “Twenty-three. I recycle the good ones.”

She giggles again, and something about it makes your stomach flip just a little.

“Name?” you ask, tilting your head.

She hesitates. Not in a suspicious way—more like she’s used to being cautious. But then she smiles softly and says, “Wonyoung.”

You nod, repeating it under your breath. “Wonyoung… Pretty name. Sounds like royalty.”

“You think?”

“Well, you look like the type who’d have a private island and a perfume line.”

That makes her laugh harder than you expect. She tucks some hair behind her ear and smirks. “You’re not too bad at this.”

“At what? Talking to gorgeous strangers online?”

“Exactly.”

You lean back, smirking. “What about you? Are you just casually being hot on Omegle or is this, like, a break from world domination?”

She pauses again.

You don't know it, but somewhere behind her screen, a manager is calling her back to practice in a few minutes. Her stylists are off camera, scrolling through their phones. She’s surrounded by fame, pressure, and a never-ending demand for perfection.

But for some reason, right now? She wants to stay.

“I was just on break. Rehearsals are insane lately.”

“Rehearsals for what? Dance team?”

Her eyes twinkle. “Something like that.”

You nod like you get it—oblivious.

“You never said your name,” she says.

“Right. (Y/N).”

“Hmm. Cute name. It suits you.”

You feel warmth creep up your neck. This girl’s good. Like really good. But there’s something genuine in her tone. She’s not just tossing compliments for fun.

"Well, Wonyoung," you say with a cocky little smile, "I think you're the most fun I've had on this site in a while."

She rests her chin on her hand. “You should give me your Instagram.”

“Only if you give me yours.”

She leans closer, as if she’s about to say it. Her lips part—

Click.

Your screen blinks.

“You’re now chatting with a random stranger.”

You blink. “Wait—what the hell?!”

Gone.

Just like that.

You stare at the screen in disbelief. No way. No way she didn’t do that on purpose. Was it a glitch? Did she skip? Was it her connection?

But then—hope.

She asked for your Instagram first.

You scramble into your app. Check your notifications.

@for_wonyoung followed you.

Your jaw drops. She didn’t tell you her handle—but she found you.

You click her profile—

…and freeze.

Over 12 million followers. A sea of magazine shoots, red carpet photos, dance videos with millions of likes.

The comment section? Exploding.

“WONYOUNG UNNIE I LOVE YOU!”

“My queen omg you’re perfect!!”

“When’s the comeback?!”

Wait.

Wait wait wait.

You scroll up to her username. Official blue check.

“Jang Wonyoung.”

You stare at it. At her face. Her profile banner is the same girl who was sipping bubble tea and laughing at your stupid lines just minutes ago.

You had no idea.

“Holy shit.”

You drop your phone onto your chest and stare at the ceiling.

And far away—behind another screen, in a quiet rehearsal room that smells of sweat and stardom—

Wonyoung is watching you.

Scrolling back through your feed.

Reading every caption.

Zooming in on the faces of girls you’ve taken selfies with.

Smiling a little too long at one in particular.

“So you didn’t know me…” she murmurs, licking the tip of her straw. “Good. I like that.”

She taps the screen. Screenshot. Screenshot. Screenshot.

“(Y/N)… You’re kind of perfect.”

And her thumb hovers over the screen for a second longer.

Save.

The first DM is simple.

@for_wonyoung: "Hey stranger :)"

You stare at it for a solid ten minutes before replying. It feels surreal. Like chatting with a celebrity is something normal people just… do.

You answer with a lame, "Hey lol, can't believe you're real."

And she replies immediately.

@for_wonyoung: "You were funny. I liked talking to you. Do you Omegle often?"

You talk for hours. DMs turn into late-night voice notes. She sends you memes. You send her cursed TikToks. She's surprisingly normal—but still mysterious. She never talks about work. Never confirms who she really is.

And you… don't push it. Maybe you like that mystery.

What you don’t know is that every time you open her messages, she's tracking the timestamp.

Every time you take more than ten minutes to reply, she refreshes your profile. Checks if you're online. Wonders what you're doing. Who you're with.

She starts liking your old posts. Comments subtly.

@for_wonyoung: "This one's cute :)" on a photo from three years ago.

Weeks pass like half-remembered dreams. You and Wonyoung talk every day now. Mostly at night. Sometimes it’s just emojis or pictures of her lunch. Other times it’s long, rambling voice notes where she talks about the stars outside her window, or how rehearsals are killing her knees. But always, always, she replies.

She never confirms her schedule, but somehow, she knows yours. She's always available when you're free. Online the second you post a story. Reacting within minutes. Once, you joked about craving chocolate milk at 2AM—and the next day, there was a delivery bag on your doorstep. No note. Just chocolate milk.

You’d asked her about it.

@for_wonyoung: "Lol are you stalking me or something?"

@for_wonyoung: "Maybe I’m just good at guessing :3"

It was cute. Harmless. Probably just a fan of coincidences.

And then, one weekend, you're at a cafe with your friends. Some indie corner spot you always go to after work. You’d even mentioned it in passing once in a voice note.

You step outside to take a call, and when you turn around—

She's there.

Wonyoung.

No sunglasses. No mask. Just her, standing across the street in a beige hoodie and jeans, like she didn’t just step off the cover of every fashion mag in Korea.

She smiles softly. "Hey."

Your voice catches. "W-Wonyoung? What—how did you—?"

"I was just nearby," she lies easily, brushing hair behind her ear. "Funny, right?"

You stare at her.

And somewhere, deep inside your chest—something tugs.

A strange kind of thrill.

You want to believe it’s a coincidence.

You need to.

Because the way she looks at you?

Like she already knows you belong to her.

Like she's been waiting for this moment.

And she'll make sure you never walk away from her again.

You invite her to sit.

Not because you aren’t freaked out—but because… well, it’s her. And she smiles like you’ve known each other for years.

You try to play it cool. She says she’s just “taking a break from everything.” That she needed to feel “normal” again. That bumping into you was “a sign.”

She orders a tea and sits across from you, her fingers brushing yours a little too long.

But the strangest thing?

She knows things.

Little things you know you never told her.

Like the name of your dog when you were nine. Or that your ex had a thing for succulents. Or that you always check your left pocket for your wallet three times before leaving the house.

"Lucky guess," she says when you ask.

You laugh nervously. But it sticks with you.

That night, she texts you first.

@for_wonyoung: “Today was nice. I missed you. Even though it was the first time.”

You don't know what to say to that. So you send a heart emoji. It feels safe.

But Wonyoung? She doesn’t do safe.

The next few days, she ramps up. Calls you more often. Sends little gifts. A sweater you once said looked nice. A snack you mentioned craving in a joke. The exact brand of your shampoo.

And the weirdest thing?

It doesn't happen all at once.

At first, it's small. Missed calls. Unanswered texts. Plans that get canceled last-minute.

You shrug it off. Life happens. People get busy.

But then it snowballs. One friend starts ignoring your memes. Another doesn't show up to game night. The group chat—once buzzing with inside jokes—is suddenly... quiet.

And then it gets weirder. One friend removes you from their close friends list. Another unfollows you on Instagram. A third—you realize after checking twice—has blocked your number entirely.

Except for one—Jae.

He texts you late one night.

Jae: "Hey. You still talking to that girl? The one you met online?"

You blink at your phone.

You: "Yeah? Why?"

There’s a pause.

Jae: "Just... be careful. Something feels off, man. A couple of the guys tried reaching out and they said your DMs were acting weird. Like someone else was reading them. And... my cousin said he saw your profile messaging him stuff you never would."

You frown.

You: "I didn’t send anything weird. I swear."

Jae: "I believe you. Just... look, I don’t know what’s going on, but that girl? Wonyoung? She gives me a weird vibe. Like she knows too much. You sure she’s not messing with your accounts?"

You sit up in bed, heart thudding a little harder.

You want to brush it off. Say Jae’s being paranoid.

But after Jae’s message. Later that night, after you’ve talked to Jae and your head's still spinning, you walk into your room—and there it is. The Polaroid. Taped right on your monitor.

A photo of you. Asleep. On your couch. Taken from an angle that could only come from outside your window.

Your blanket is still bunched at your waist. Your mouth hangs slightly open.

At the bottom: a red smiley face.

And now… that smiley-face Polaroid isn’t as cute as it was a week ago.

You bring it up to Wonyoung, trying to sound casual, like it's not eating at you.

"Hey, have I done something? Everyone’s been acting kinda distant lately."

A voice note comes back within minutes. Her voice is soft, feather-light. Sweet, but unnervingly so.

"That’s weird," she says. "Maybe they’re just fake. People drift. But me? I’d never leave you

. I’m not going anywhere."

Your phone vibrates as you listen. The sound of her smile is almost too comforting.

And deep down, in the pit of your stomach, you start to wonder—just how much does she really know about you?

Because it feels less like coincidence now.

And more like fate.

The moment you send her a message, it feels like time freezes. The sound of your phone vibrating against the wooden table is the loudest thing you’ve heard all day. Your heart races as you wait for her reply.

You’ve been trying to shake off the unease that’s been gnawing at you. The missing friends. The subtle changes in how people interact with you. The Polaroids. But every time you try to distance yourself, her presence is there—always lurking just beyond the corners of your mind.

And that voice—soft, almost teasing—drifts into your ears like a sweet poison.

"Don’t worry, (Y/N). I told you I wouldn’t leave you. And I meant it."

It’s almost sweet enough to calm your nerves, but there's something off. Something about the way she says it. A finality in her words that sends a chill down your spine.

You sit there, frozen for a moment. Your thumb hovers over the phone, unable to reply. You should say something. You should tell her you're okay. Tell her everything's fine. But the words... they get stuck.

You take a deep breath and start typing.

You: "It’s just… I don’t know, I’ve been thinking a lot about everything. About us. You’re really different from how I expected, Wonyoung. Like, you’re... too good to be true."

You hesitate before sending the message, but then press ‘send’ with a slight wince.

The reply comes almost immediately.

@for_wonyoung: "I know, (Y/N). I am too good to be true. And you know what? That’s why you shouldn’t be afraid of me. I’m exactly what you’ve been looking for. All these years. Right? A little broken, a little lost, and now, I’m here to make everything better."

Her words seem to dig into your chest like a pair of invisible hands, squeezing tighter. You want to tell her that you’re not sure what she means, that this is all too much, but the longer you look at the screen, the more her presence fills up your room.

You hear her voice again. This time, you don’t even need to open the message.

You can feel her in the air around you.

@for_wonyoung: "I know you’re still not sure about me, but it’s okay. Because I know everything about you, (Y/N). I know what you like, what you fear, who you’ve hurt, and who’s hurt you."

The air in your room suddenly feels dense, like you’re surrounded by something that isn’t quite tangible but there, pressing in on you. The room feels colder.

@for_wonyoung: "And now I’m here. And I’m not leaving. You can’t go back, (Y/N). Not anymore."

You swipe away the message, hoping it’ll disappear, but it lingers in the back of your mind. Her words aren’t comforting. They’re suffocating.

It happens when you least expect it. You’ve been home for hours, trying to distract yourself from the unsettling weight of Wonyoung’s words, and everything feels strangely... off. The air in your apartment feels thick, like it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

You’re sitting at your desk, scrolling through your phone, half-watching a TV show you’re not even really paying attention to, when you hear it.

A soft creak.

You freeze.

It’s faint, but it’s there—the unmistakable sound of a door opening. But you didn’t hear anything before. The apartment is silent, except for the sound of your own heartbeat drumming in your ears. You stand up and glance around. The windows are shut. Everything’s in its place, or so you think.

Your heart sinks.

The door to your bedroom. It’s cracked open, ever so slightly.

You rush toward it, a pit in your stomach. No way. You’ve locked everything. You checked.

And that’s when you see it.

Wonyoung.

Standing there, calm as can be, in the middle of your bedroom.

She’s sitting at the edge of your bed, legs crossed, as though she’s always been there—always belonged there. Her eyes look up at you with a quiet smile, one that doesn’t belong. Not here. Not now. It’s a smile that makes your blood run cold.

"Wonyoung…" Your voice is shaky, breath caught in your throat. "What the hell are you doing here?"

She doesn’t answer right away. She just watches you, her fingers running gently over the fabric of your bedsheet, as though it’s the most normal thing in the world.

"I wanted to see you, (Y/N)," she says softly, almost sweetly. "You’re always so distant lately. I thought I could make it better."

You feel anger bubbling up inside you. How dare she come into your space like this? You didn’t invite her in. You never gave her permission to cross this line.

"Get out. Now," you snap, stepping forward, hands clenched at your sides.

But Wonyoung just tilts her head, eyes still that soft, chilling gaze. "You don’t mean that. You want me here. I know you do." She stands up slowly, brushing her hair behind her ear. "I’ve been so patient, but it’s time for you to understand something."

Before you can respond, she’s already taken a step closer, her presence dominating the room. You step back instinctively, your body tense, heart racing.

"I don’t want to leave, (Y/N). Not anymore. You’re mine now. I’m not going anywhere." Her voice is low, like a promise. A threat.

You can feel your chest tighten with fear, but the anger inside you flares brighter. You have to get her out. You don’t know how she got in, but you need to make her leave.

"Leave my apartment!" You shout, taking another step toward her, trying to push her out.

But as soon as you reach the door, she’s faster than you—quicker than you expected. With a swift motion, she slams the door shut with a force that rattles the frame.

Your heart stops.

"You want me to leave?" she asks, her tone mocking. "But I’m the only one who really knows you, (Y/N). I’m the one who’s been here for you all this time. While everyone else abandoned you, I stayed. And now... now you want me to leave?" Her smile widens. "I don’t think so."

The door clicks.

You hear the unmistakable sound of the deadbolt sliding into place.

It takes a moment for it to register in your mind, but when it does, panic floods your veins. The door is locked. You’re trapped in here with her.

You turn to face her, only to find Wonyoung standing too close. Her body presses up against yours, her hand resting on your chest, feeling the erratic beats of your heart through your shirt.

"I’ve waited too long for this, (Y/N)," she whispers, her voice suddenly hushed, like she’s savoring the moment. "I won’t let you go. Not now. Not ever."

You push her away in a frantic attempt to break free, but her grip tightens, and you find yourself thrown against the wall, her body pressing you in place with an unsettling strength.

"I told you," she murmurs, voice almost a purr now, "you’re mine. You’ve always been mine." Her fingers trace your jawline slowly, deliberately, as though she’s claiming every inch of you. "Now, you’ll understand."

You gasp, trying to wriggle free, but it’s no use. Wonyoung doesn’t let go.

"I don’t want to hurt you, (Y/N). But if you keep pushing me away, I’ll have no choice," she says, her eyes darkening with a possessive, predatory gleam. "I know everything about you. I always have."

Her lips brush your ear. "You’re not getting away. Not anymore."

The walls close in around you as her grip tightens, and for the first time, you realize—there’s no escaping her.

She’s turned the tables. You were the hunter. Now you’re the prey.

And Wonyoung?

She’s not going anywhere.

You struggle against her hold, heart racing as panic floods your body. Wonyoung’s presence is suffocating, like a weight pressing against your chest. You’re trapped, the walls of your apartment closing in around you as you desperately search for a way out.

Your mind races for a solution. You have to call the cops. You have to get help. You’re not safe. But your phone—your lifeline—is just out of reach on the counter.

With trembling hands, you break free from her grip for a moment, quickly darting toward the counter. Your fingers graze the phone as you reach for it, heart pounding in your ears. You barely make it.

But just as your hand wraps around the phone, you feel her presence behind you—too close, too fast.

“No,” Wonyoung hisses, her voice laced with fury. “You’re not calling anyone.”

Before you can even react, she snatches the phone out of your hand with an animalistic force. You don’t even see it coming. The next thing you know, she’s hurling it against the wall, the sound of it shattering against the surface like glass splintering.

The screen cracks, the device useless now.

Your mouth goes dry.

"Wonyoung—" you start, but she interrupts you, her eyes narrowing with fury.

“You really thought you could escape me?” she spits, her voice trembling with rage. “You think you can just throw me away, like I don’t mean anything to you?”

She steps closer, her body radiating tension, her eyes burning with a desperate need. There’s something darker in them now. Something that snaps inside of her, and you can feel it. This isn’t the Wonyoung you saw at the beginning. This is someone else entirely.

Wonyoung grabs your wrist in an unyielding grip, her fingers digging into your skin like claws, the pressure so intense that you wince in pain. You feel the sharp, unbearable sting as she squeezes harder, tightening her hold on you until the pain makes your breath catch.

“Stop!” you try to pull away, but it’s futile. The bruising pressure of her fingers against your skin only increases.

She pulls you closer, her eyes flashing with rage and something far more terrifying. “I’ve been patient, (Y/N). But you want to reject me? You think you can push me away like I’m nothing? I’ve given you everything—everything you could ever want. And this is how you repay me?”

You try to take a step back, your heart racing, but she’s not letting go. Instead, she drags you to the center of the room, her grip like iron around your wrist. You can feel the heat of her anger rolling off her in waves, suffocating, drowning you in her obsession.

“You’re mine,” she repeats, her voice low, almost guttural. “You will love me. I’ve given you no choice. You don’t get to hurt me like this anymore, (Y/N). You don’t get to run from me.”

With a sudden yank, she pulls your body forward, forcing you to look into her eyes. The intensity in her gaze is overwhelming—there’s no escape, no way out. You’re trapped.

“I’m the only one who sees you. I’m the only one who understands you,” she says through clenched teeth. Her voice wavers between fury and desperation. “I’ve been patient with you, but now you’ll love me. You will love me. Because if you don’t—”

Her words trail off, but the threat lingers in the air, heavy and suffocating.

She presses her body closer to yours, her chest rising and falling with every breath, and her lips are so close to your ear, you can feel the heat of them on your skin.

“You’ll regret it. If you don’t love me back, I’ll make you regret it, (Y/N).” Her voice is like silk, but there’s a venomous edge to it now. “I’ll make sure you never forget me. You won’t be able to look at anyone else without thinking of me. You won’t be able to breathe without hearing my voice in your head.”

Your heart pounds against your chest, and every instinct tells you to fight back, but the fear clawing at you makes it hard to move, to think clearly.

Her grip tightens even more, until the pain from your wrist is unbearable. The bruise is already forming beneath her fingers, the blood circulation cut off by her grip. You can feel the heat of her breath against your ear as she whispers, her voice dripping with madness.

“I’ll make you see, (Y/N). You won’t get away. You can’t run from me.” She pulls your face toward hers, her lips brushing against your cheek in a chilling kiss. “You’re fucking mine.”

You don’t know how to respond, how to react, because every word she says is dripping with a terrifying certainty. You don’t know how to make her stop. You don’t know if you even can.

But one thing is clear:

You’re not in control anymore.

[internetdaddy98]

The Ties That Bind Us - Chapter 36 Final

Previous [Series Masterlist] Content Warning: mentions of medical procedures

--------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t often that the ER staff collectively lost their minds.

Sure, they’d seen cardiac arrests and GSW's and defibrillator explosions (courtesy of that one intern who shall not be named). They'd survived hospital lockdowns and fire drills, a raccoon infestation in Radiology, and even a flash mob that went wrong in the cafeteria.

But nothing — nothing — compared to the arrival of baby Robinavitch-Williams.

Y/N and Robby entered through the ambulance bay doors, both in soft hoodies and jeans, looking like two very exhausted but very proud parents. You had your hair up in a bun that had clearly lost the war with gravity. Robby’s shirt was stained with something suspiciously baby-related.

Wrapped in a soft pink hat and double-layered onesie, baby Daisy slept under the fluorescent lights, perfectly unbothered.

“Oh my God, she’s here!” Dana squealed, bolting out from behind the desk. “Give me that child. I mean—congrats! But also—give me that child.”

You laughed, gently placing baby Daisy into Dana’s arms. “She’s been asleep for three hours, which means we’re due for a breakdown in t-minus ten minutes.”

A crowd was already forming. Nurses. Residents. Even Dr. Abbott from who usually avoided “squishy things” unless they were organs, wandered over with a cautious smile.

“She has Robby’s nose!” one nurse gushed.

“And Y/N’s eyebrows!”

“Lucky kid,” Dana said, cradling Daisy like a practiced aunt. “Born to two ridiculously attractive doctors. She’s gonna have cheekbones sharp enough to perform surgery.”

From across the ER, Mateo yelled, “Robby, your daughter just made finger guns in her sleep. You raising her to be a flirt like you?”

Robby, somehow both flushed and beaming, shrugged. “She came out with attitude. I’m just here to fund her college dreams.”

You leaned on the counter, watching them all dote on your daughter, heart swelling. It wasn’t just pride. It was something else, something deeper. This wasn’t just your job. These weren’t just colleagues.

This was your family.

—-------------------------------------

The apartment looked like a tornado had been in a head-on collision with a baby boutique.

There were burp cloths on the kitchen table. A pacifier under the TV. A bouncer chair in the hallway. You stepped over a bottle cap, muttering something about starting a museum dedicated to the items you’d found stuck to your socks.

In the center of the living room, Robby was rocking Daisy in his arms like she was made of glass and gold. His eyes were puffy. His hair? Catastrophic. But the way he looked at his daughter made your chest ache.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” you murmured, dropping beside him on the couch.

“I tried. But she made this face.” He turned the baby slightly so you could see — a perfect little pout, brows furrowed, the faintest hiccup threatening to rise.

“Oh, the Sad Potato Face,” you said, mock-grave. “Unbeatable.”

“I would give her a kidney if she asked,” Robby said solemnly.

“She just wants boob.”

“Fair. Same.”

You burst into laughter, burying your head in his shoulder. “God, we’re tired.”

“I think I hallucinated earlier. I tried to feed her the TV remote.”

“We’ve officially entered the twilight zone.”

But still, they sat there for an extra hour, watching her breathe, counting her little fingers again like they hadn’t already a thousand times.

And when she finally drifted off again, lips puckered, hands curled at her chin like a sleepy fighter, Robby turned and whispered, “We made a perfect tiny human.”

You kissed his cheek and whispered back, “We really did.”

The last thing you saw before falling asleep that night was Robby asleep in the nursery glider, baby Daisy curled on his chest.

A sight so good, you snapped a blurry picture in the dark. A picture that would end up printed, framed, and sitting on the ER walls for years to come.

Because some miracles come screaming into the world during storms.

And some miracles come sleeping, heartbeats wrapped in lullabies.

-------------------------------------------------------------------- I just wanna say thank to everyone who joined me in this adventure, thank you for the support and loving the story as much as I did writing it <3 There's still so many ideas in my head but we'll see if they make into Tumblr.

[p0orbaby]

Hello! If you’re still doing the short blurbs may I request a short one with R taking alexia ice skating? R’s really good and alexia’s really bad. So bad she needs to hold the kids penguin support thing type bad. But she’s a bit stubborn and doesn’t want help. She’s constantly holding on to the rail, falls on her bum and one kid even laughs at her. But after a few falls she finally gives in and lets R guide/help her, and even lets go of the side ☺️

No worries if it’s not your thing!

-

At first, she’s suspicious.

You’ve never seen Alexia side-eye a leisure centre before, but here we are. A converted warehouse in some unholy corner of South London with strip lighting, a vending machine from the ’90s, and the distinct smell of wet sock. She’s clinging to your sleeve like it’s diplomatic protocol.

“People do this… for fun?” she asks, brow arched, eyes darting around like she’s assessing the risk of frostbite.

“They do,” you say, handing her a pair of skates and watching her stare at them like they’ve personally wronged her. “It’s charming. Festive. Builds character.”

“You’re trying to kill me,” she decides.

You do not deny it.

She lasts twenty-three seconds on the ice before the first fall. It’s not even dramatic—more of a slow, deliberate sit-down, like her thighs have made an executive decision.

“I am not built for this,” she hisses, as a six-year-old glides past her effortlessly and then circles back to laugh. Loudly.

You try not to laugh with the child.

She glares at you from the ground. “I have two Ballon d’Ors.”

“And now you have mild bruising,” you reply, extending a hand.

She swats it away and scrambles upright via the wall like a very determined crab. “I don’t need help.”

“You just got shown up by a child in a Peppa Pig bobble hat.”

“She’s probably training for the Olympics.”

The next fall is less dignified. She tries to push off from the rail, gets maybe three inches of momentum, panics mid-glide, and immediately pancakes. A nearby steward offers her a little plastic penguin—the kind toddlers use to learn. She accepts it. With bitterness in her eyes and pride in shreds.

“This is humiliating,” she mutters, inching forward while clutching the penguin’s ears. “I play football for a living.”

“Exactly,” you say. “Footballers aren’t known for their balance.”

“I do Pilates.”

“That makes this even worse.”

She gives you a look that says I love you but I could end you right here on the ice and make it look like an accident.

You’re already pretty good. Comfortable. Confident, even. You circle around her once—purely to show off, obviously—then coast backwards in front of her like some smug, ice-dancing forest nymph.

“Stop that,” she snaps. “You look like that Disney ice queen, Elisa or whoever.”

“Is that jealousy I hear?”

“It’s rage,” she says, but her mouth twitches at the corners.

Three more falls and a minor tantrum later, she gives in.

You’re holding out a hand before she even asks. She takes it.

“I’m only doing this because I’m freezing and tired,” she says, like you’ve dragged her to a hostile terrain under false pretences.

You smile. “Of course.”

“Not because I need you.”

“Obviously not.”

And then—slowly, awkwardly, but determined—she lets go of the wall.

One of her hands is in yours. The other is still on the penguin’s plastic face, but it’s progress. Her feet slide forward, cautious but brave. You guide her gently, fingers tight around hers, keeping pace. Every now and then she wobbles, curses softly in Spanish, and shoots you a dirty look—as if the ice itself is under your command.

“You’re laughing,” she accuses.

“I’m delighted.”

“I’m never doing this again.”

“You’re doing so well.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

A pause. A sigh.

“Yes. But I hate you also.”

And you can’t help it—you beam. The rink lights are too bright, the air smells like someone’s gym bag, and your girlfriend is hanging on to a fibreglass penguin for dear life, but it might be the best date you’ve ever been on.

Even if she spends the rest of it muttering darkly about broken ankles and national embarrassment.