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szariahwroteit · 3 days ago

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Doll House: A Jude Bellingham + Original Character Erotic Series

18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 4

“Wrap your legs around me,” Jude said with a playful smirk, his hands firm yet gently gripping Tori’s hips. As he hoisted her effortlessly from the shimmering sea, he began to wade deeper into the cool, inviting water, the gentle waves lapping around them, creating a sense of exhilaration and intimacy.

“Please don't throw me in,” Tori smiled cautiously, her arms wrapping around Jude’s broad shoulders, tightening her hold on him.

“I promise you I won’t,” Jude replied, his voice teasing yet reassuring. “But you have to trust me. Just enjoy the moment.”

Tori felt a rush of warmth spread through her as she looked into his eyes, the playful glint in them making her heart race. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden hue over the water, and the world around them felt like a dream.

“Okay, okay,” she said, her laughter bubbling up as she adjusted her grip. “Just don’t let go!”

With a confident grin, Jude began to move deeper into the water, the waves splashing around them. Tori could feel the coolness of the sea against her skin, contrasting with the warmth radiating from Jude’s body. The sensation sent shivers down her spine, and she couldn’t help but giggle as the water splashed playfully against her.

“See? Not so bad, right?” Jude said, glancing back at her, his expression a mix of mischief and delight.

“Not bad at all!” Tori replied, her laughter ringing out as she felt the thrill of the moment. “But I still don’t trust you completely!”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “But I promise, I’m a good swimmer. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

As they waded further into the water, Tori felt a sense of freedom wash over her. The worries of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in this beautiful moment. She could feel the rhythm of the waves, the gentle sway of Jude’s body beneath her, and the warmth of the setting sun on her skin.

“Okay, but if you do throw me in, I’m getting you back,” Tori warned, her eyes narrowing playfully.

Jude laughed, the sound deep and rich. ”I’d rather kiss you,”

He said, his voice dropping to a more serious tone, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by something deeper.

Tori felt her breath hitch at his words, her heart racing as she searched his gaze. The atmosphere shifted slightly, the playful banter giving way to a moment charged with unspoken tension.

Leaning into him, Tori pressed her lips against Jude's, her eyes fluttering shut as she surrendered to the warmth of the moment. She felt the weight of his hand, firm yet gentle, as it slid from her hip to grip the back of her neck, fingers threading softly through her hair. His touch anchored her in place, intensifying the electricity between them as she melted into the kiss.

Jude let out a moan of approval as he parted Tori’s lips with his tongue, slipping it into her mouth as he sought to explore her.

Dubai thus far had been nothing short of perfect and with only two days until the new year the city had already begun to buzz.

While Jude had been stopped by fans and swarmed by cameras on a few occasions, he did his best to keep that side of his life away from Tori and she was beyond thankful for it.

The more time she spent around Jude the more she understood how sought-after an athlete he was. Just how bright his star shined.

“Easily one of my favourite pastimes,” Jude smirked against Tori’s lips.

“What is?” she asked curiously.

“Kissing you,” he added with a playful grin, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Tori felt her cheeks flush at his words, a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration flooding through her. "You know, you really are quite the charmer," she teased, pulling back slightly to look at him, their foreheads almost touching.

“Is it working?” Jude smirked.

“I’d say,” Tori confirmed. “You got me out of my panties in the first forty-eight, and you spilled your drink on me,” she smiled teasingly.

Jude burst into laughter, the sound echoing around them and mingling with the soft lapping of the waves. “Well, I must be doing something right then,” he said, his voice dripping with playful confidence. Tori rolled her eyes playfully, a smile tugging at her lips as she tried to suppress another giggle.

Leaning into her, Jude's tongue slipped playfully against her lips, reigniting the spark that had momentarily dimmed. Tori found herself lost in the kiss once more, the world around them fading away as they embraced the intimacy of the moment.

“Okay, okay,” Tori said, pulling back slightly, her breath warm against his skin. “Can we please get back to the shore?”

Jude chuckled, his arms tightening around her momentarily before he nodded. "Alright, but only if you promise me one thing," he said, his eyes glinting with a troublesome energy.

“What’s that?” Tori asked, tilting her head, curiosity dancing in her gaze.

“Promise me that if I do throw you in, you won't be mad at me,” he replied with a playful grin.

Tori couldn't help but laugh. “I can't make any promises,”

With that, Jude began to make his way back to the shore with Tori in his arms.

When they were back on dry land, Jude placed Tori back onto her feet, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he darted off to use the bathroom.

Tori felt giddy as she made her way back to her seat, a lazy smile spread across her face as she walked along the hot sand.

As she made her way back to her seat, Tori smiled politely as she passed two of Jude’s teammates who sat sun bathing. Her polite gesture went unnoticed by the two men who were engrossed in conversation, however, when she walked past them and overheard their conversation, her stomach flipped.

“She is beautiful, but she's only here for convenience,” one of Jude teammates said, making the other he sat beside laugh before agreeing with his statement.

“Likewise,” the other man said, shaking his head. “Last night I had to send mine back to her room after sex, I didn't care to hear what she had to say.”

Tori felt a cold wave of disappointment wash over her as she heard the words echo in her mind. She had been enjoying this blissful escape with Jude, but hearing those comments made her question the depth of their connection. Was she really just a fleeting distraction for him, a convenience in a city where he was the star? The warmth that had enveloped her moments ago began to fade into a chill of uncertainty.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to push the thoughts aside. Jude had been nothing but kind to her, and their time together had felt genuine. Yet, the seed of doubt had been planted, and she couldn’t ignore it. She needed to regroup, to find her footing again.

As she approached the area where the other girls were sitting, she spotted a few familiar faces. They were laughing and chatting, the sun casting a warm glow on their sun-kissed skin. Tori hesitated for a moment before deciding to join them, hoping that their energy would lift her spirits.

“Hey, Tori! Come sit with us!” one of the girls called out, waving her over enthusiastically. Tori forced a smile and walked towards them, trying to shake off the lingering doubts.

“Hey, ladies!” Tori greeted, settling down on the soft sand beside them. “What are you all up to?”

“Just planning our New Year’s Eve outfits!” one of the girls said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Tori tried to match their enthusiasm, but her mind was still reeling from the comments she had overheard.

As the conversation continued, Tori listened intently, laughing at their jokes and sharing in their excitement. But a part of her couldn’t shake off the feeling of being on the outside, like she was in the same boat as the girls who were only here for a fleeting moment. She was starting to feel like maybe she was also just another notch on Jude’s bedpost.

“Do you know what you're wearing?” one girl asked, breaking Tori from her thoughts.

“If not, we could go shopping. Kylian promised me a shopping spree before I head back to Miami,” another chimed in, and they all laughed, the camaraderie palpable.

Tori had come to a startling realization: aside from one woman in their group, none of them shared a genuine bond with the men they were with. Their relationships seemed to be based solely on convenience and being rewarded for it, and this revelation left her feeling uneasy.

Politely excusing herself from the conversation, Tori strolled along the shoreline as attempted to clear her racing mind.

Gentle waves washed over her feet as she absentmindedly played with the small gold rings that adorned her perfectly manicured fingers.

Tori was lost in her thoughts, completely oblivious to Jude approaching her from behind. He gently rested his hand on the small of her back as he caught up with her.

Tori jumped slightly at the unexpected touch, her thoughts snapping back to reality. She turned to face Jude, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh, hey,” she said, trying to shake off the fog of her earlier contemplation.

“Everything okay?” Jude asked, his brow furrowed in concern. He had been attentive to her since the moment they met, but despite this quality, Tori couldn't see past her insecure thoughts.

“Yeah, just… thinking,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders as if to dismiss her unease.

Jude nodded, but she could see the doubt in his eyes. “Can I walk with you?” he asked, smiling softly as he took her hand into his.

Tori felt a warmth spread through her at the gesture, but it was quickly overshadowed by the weight of her thoughts. She appreciated Jude’s sincerity, yet the delicacy of their connection loomed large in her mind.

“Sure,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, as they began to walk slowly along the water’s edge. The rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore accompanied their silence, creating a soothing backdrop that contrasted with her inner turmoil.

“What’s on your mind?” Jude asked, glancing sideways at her, his eyes searching for a glimpse of the truth she was holding back.

Tori hesitated, feeling the pull between wanting to share and the instinct to protect her vulnerabilities. “Just… something I overheard your teammate say, I guess,” she finally admitted.

Jude’s expression shifted; he turned to face her fully, concern etched on his features. “What was said?”

“One of your teammates made a comment that the girl he brought to Dubai with him was purely for convenience…I hate to make something out of nothing, but it did get me thinking,” Tori said, her voice trailing off. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach as she tried to articulate her feelings.

Jude frowned, processing her words. “I can see how that would bother you. It’s not really the kind of thing you want to hear, but I can assure you you're not just here for my convenience,” he explained, squeezing her hand for reassurance.

Coming to a stop, he took hold of her other hand as he looked into her eyes, the soft breeze tousling her hair as his eyes traced over her. “I know I might not be the best at expressing it, but I genuinely enjoy every moment we spend together. You are here because I want you to be here—I want to get to know you. Not for convenience or sex.”

Jude felt a pang in his heart as he gazed at Tori's stunning face. She was undeniably beautiful, and it saddened him to imagine the struggles she must have faced in her past that led her to question her own worth.

In his experience, he'd given women the bare minimum, and that minimal effort had been enough for them to believe they were warranted a place in his life. Yet here Tori was, both beautiful and intriguing, questioning whether or not he truly valued her presence on this trip when she was who he wanted.

"In the most sincere way possible, I realize that being around someone like me might feel overwhelming, but I want you to understand how much I truly enjoy your presence and I want to continue learning about you," Jude explained.

Beyond sex he enjoyed her company, she was smart, insightful and funny. He enjoyed sitting and learning about her as much as he did each time they were intimate.

Tori's heart raced as she processed Jude's words, his intense gaze locking her in place. The depth of his sincerity caught her off guard, momentarily eclipsing the swirling doubts in her mind. “You really mean that?” she asked her voice barely a whisper, vulnerability peeking through the cracks of her defences.

“Absolutely,” he replied, his tone steady and calm. “You’re not just a fling to me, Tori. I don’t want to just scratch an itch. I want to explore who you are. I want to share experiences with you, learn about your dreams, and understand you. It’s more than just physical.”

The sincerity in Jude’s eyes held her captive, and with each passing moment, it felt as if he was peeling back her layers. Tori felt the sun warming her skin, the gentle lapping of the waves caressing her feet, and as the cool sea breeze danced around them, a small part of her began to thaw. "I'm sorry for even bringing it to your attention," she confessed. “You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself.”

Jude shook his head gently, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. “No, don’t apologize. I’d rather you share what’s on your mind than keep it bottled up. I’m here to listen,” he said, his voice low and soft, yet laced with an intensity that made Tori's heart flutter.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between them just enough that she could feel his warmth radiating toward her. “Besides, I want to know everything that makes you, well, you,” Jude added, his eyes shining with a genuine exuberance that made her feel both cherished and exposed.

The weight of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, and Tori felt a rush of emotions flood over her—relief, curiosity, a hint of something deeper that scared and excited her all at once.

“I’ve been trying to get to know you since I spilled my drink on you, all I need is for you to let me,” Jude continued, his voice a soft murmur as they stood inches apart. The sound of the waves grew distant, muffled by the quickening pulse in her ears. Tori felt time slow around them; the beautiful beach, the warm sun, the endless sky—all vanished as she focused solely on Jude.

Jude understood her apprehension, there were no clear bounds between them. Only a bond forged amid lust and desire. He understood how daunting the world of a celebrity could appear to someone on the outside looking in.

As he stood before her, Jude could sense the weight of Tori's hesitation, the uncertainties swirling in her beautiful mind. He didn’t want to push her, but he felt a magnetic pull toward her—a profound connection that transcended mere physical attraction. “I know it can be intimidating, being close to someone who lives in the spotlight. But I want to make it clear that the reason I’m drawn to you is because of who you are, not because I think I can have my way with you.”

Tori swallowed hard, his words resonating with the hidden depths of her soul. She had spent much of her life hiding behind a veneer, afraid of being hurt or misunderstood.

She'd spent so much of her life putting her thoughts and feelings aside to accommodate others in relationships, her career, and even among her own flesh and blood, and she didn't know if she could continue in the same fashion with Jude.

“Jude, if you feel the same way as your teammates and that's what this is, I’d rather you tell me.” Jude's expression shifted to one of sincerity, a seriousness that made Tori's heart race.

“Tori, I promise you, this isn’t that. I’m not them,” he said, his tone firm yet gentle. “What we have is only for us. I feel a connection with you that I want to explore,”

Tori felt her breath hitch again, her heart swelling with a mix of hope and fear. Could it be true? Was she really more than just a momentary distraction in his world?

“If anything changes, will you let me know?” Tori asked, her voice barely above a whisper, vulnerability spilling from her heart.

“Of course,” Jude replied, his expression softening. “I want to be open with you about everything. Although I doubt anything will make me stop liking you.”

Tori felt a wave of relief wash over her, mingling with the flutter of excitement in her chest. Jude’s words resonated deep within her, dispelling the doubts that had begun to creep in. “Thank you,” she said softly, her eyes searching for any hint of deceit, but all she found was sincerity and warmth.

“I just want you to enjoy your time here, Tori,” Jude continued, a smile breaking across his face. “We’ve got two days until the new year, and I want them to be memorable for both of us.”

“And I want that too,” Tori admitted, a genuine smile emerging on her lips. “I’ve had such an amazing time with you so far.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, Tori and Jude made their way back to their hotel, the air still warm with the lingering heat of the day. The tension that had been clouding Tori's mind began to lift, replaced by a renewed sense of hope. Jude’s sincerity had grounded her, and she felt lighter in his presence.

After a quick shower and changing into something more suitable for an evening out, Tori stood in front of the mirror, her heart racing with anticipation. She chose a fitted black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, the hem flaring slightly as it grazed her thighs. She applied just a touch of makeup, enhancing her natural beauty, and as she finished, she caught her reflection—confident and excited.

Just as she finished, Jude knocked on the door. “You ready?” he called out, his voice warm and inviting.

“Almost!” Tori replied, quickly spritzing herself with a light floral perfume before heading to the door. When she opened it, Jude stood before her, dressed in a casual outfit that consisted of a crisp white t-shirt, jeans and sneakers, that accentuated his athletic build.

“You look beautiful,” he smiled as his hand found her hip.

Tori felt her cheeks flush at his compliment, a shy smile spreading across her face. “Thank you! You look pretty good yourself,” she replied, her heart racing at the sight of him. The way he looked at her, with that intense gaze, made her feel like the only person in the room.

“Ready to make some memories?” Jude asked, his excitement infectious as he offered her his arm. Tori nodded, slipping her hand through the crook of his elbow, feeling a thrill of anticipation as they stepped out into the warm Dubai night.

Taking the elevator only one floor down, Jude led Tori towards his teammate's suite where a small gathering was already underway. The laughter and chatter grew louder as they approached, and Tori could feel a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling within her. She had already met some of Jude's teammates, but this would be her first time socializing with the larger group, and she wanted to make a good impression.

“Don’t worry,” Jude said, sensing her apprehension as he opened the door to the suite. “They’re all cool.”

As they stepped inside, Tori was greeted by the lively atmosphere. The room was filled with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Jude's teammates were gathered around a table, drinks in hand, animatedly discussing something. The air was thick with camaraderie, and Tori felt a spark of excitement.

As the party progressed, drinks flowed freely, and the laughter became louder. Tori found herself chatting with a couple of the girls who had come along with the guys, sharing stories and getting to know each other better. Jude stayed close, occasionally joining their conversations, but it was clear that the atmosphere was getting more playful as the night went on.

“Alright, alright!” one of Jude’s teammates shouted over the music, drawing everyone’s attention. “It's time for a little fun! Jude, you know the rules: it’s not a party until someone gets a lap dance!”

The group erupted in cheers, and Tori felt her heart race. She glanced at Jude, who was shaking his head, a hint of amusement in his expression. “No way,” he said, laughing. “I’m not doing that!”

“Oh, come on!” Max insisted, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “You can’t back down now! You’re the star! You can’t let the others show you up.”

The playful challenge hung in the air, and Tori felt a mix of apprehension and curiosity. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the idea of Jude being put on the spot like this, but there was a part of her that wanted to see how they would handle it.

Taking a step back, Tori watched as the scene unfolded before her. Jude was forced into a seat before a woman who had been dancing nearby, her confidence radiating as she approached him with a playful smirk. The group fell silent, the anticipation thick in the air. Tori could feel the heat rising within her as she watched the scene unfold.

The woman, dressed in a fitted top and shorts that left little to the imagination, swayed her hips as she approached Jude. Her laughter was infectious, and even he couldn't help but chuckle at the predicament he found himself in.

Jude crossed his arms, trying to feign indifference, but there was a sparkle in his eyes that betrayed his enjoyment. “Alright, just this once,” he conceded, letting out a mock sigh. The crowd erupted into cheers again, creating a whirlwind of energy around them.

Tori couldn’t take her eyes off Jude as he settled into the chair, his strong frame relaxed yet alert, ready for whatever was coming his way. The music switched to something sultry, and the woman leaned in closer, taking a seat on his lap.

The moment was light-hearted and somewhat amusing, but the smile dropped from Tori’s face as the woman pulled down her top to reveal her breast, making the room erupt as she took hold of Jude’s wrist, guiding his hands to her chest, leaning back against him as she whispered something in his ear.

This was her boiling point; her cup had runneth over. A combination of the all-too-casual comment made by Jude’s teammate, the way the world seemed to bend to his will and women flocked to him, and worst of all, her self-doubt.

Silently making her way out of the bustling hotel suite, Tori couldn't stop her eyes from filling with tears as she meandered through the crowd of party-goers, laughter and music fading into a blur around her.

The dim lighting and pulsing rhythm of the music, which had felt so inviting moments before, now only added to her sense of isolation. Each chuckle that rang out made her heart clench tighter, each flirtation that she witnessed felt like a dagger.

Tori stepped out into the corridor and towards the elevator so she could head upstairs to her hotel room, a sanctuary she desperately needed. As the elevator doors slid shut, blocking out the sounds of the party, she inhaled deeply, trying to steady her racing heart. In the confined space, the fluorescent lights felt harsh against her skin, intensifying her emotions.

She pressed the button for her floor, watching the lights blink out as the elevator ascended. Each ping sounded like a countdown to her solitude. The moment the doors opened, she rushed down the hallway, her heels clicking rhythmically against the polished floor.

“Fuck,” Tori hissed as she remembered that she'd asked Jude to put her room key in his pocket. Wrapping her arms around herself she felt her lip begin to tremble, her vision blurring as she stood stationary.

Tori leaned against the cool wall of the hallway, her emotions battling within her like a storm. The laughter echoing in her head from the party downstairs felt like it belonged to another world—one where she didn’t belong, stifled by her insecurities.

Taking a breath, she attempted to calm the whirlwind inside her. She had thought tonight would be fun after their conversation on the beach. She had envisioned moments with Jude filled with playful banter and connection, but now it felt like she had lost him to the chaos, to a life he was accustomed to as a celebrity of his magnitude.

The clicking of heels made Tori’s breath hitch and she instantly attempted to make herself small as she turned to face the door, hoping whoever it was wouldn't pay her any mind.

“I see you have shoes on now,” a rather deep and somewhat smooth voice broke through her thoughts. Tori looked up, her heart racing as she recognized it to be the same man she’d spoken to the night before.

He stood there, leaning casually against the wall, concern etched onto his face as he took in her teary state. Tori felt a mix of embarrassment as she swiftly wiped the tears from beneath her eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked cautiously.

His voice was gentle, almost a whisper as if he were afraid that speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile moment.

Tori took a shaky breath, trying to compose herself. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she managed to say, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her. She avoided his gaze, focusing instead on the floor, where the glossy tiles reflected her dishevelled appearance.

“Doesn’t look like it,” he replied, stepping closer. He had an aura of sincerity that made her feel oddly safe, despite the turmoil raging inside her. “You can talk to me if you want. Or… I can just keep you company until you feel better. Your choice.”

A part of her wanted to retreat further into herself, to shut down and wallow in the emotions that had overwhelmed her. But another part, the part that craved connection, urged her to accept his offer.

She found herself nodding slowly, her heart beating a little faster as she glanced up at him.

“I'm locked out of my room, the man I'm with has my key, but I don't want to see him right now,” she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper as a single tear slipped from her eye.

“I don't think I'm in any place to give you relationship advice, but I might be able to help you get back into your room,” he smiled softly, looking past her beautiful, soft features to see a woman who was so obviously hurt.

“My phone is just down the hall in my suite, I can get it and have someone bring a replacement for you.” Tori felt a wave of gratitude wash over her at his suggestion. It was a simple offer, but it felt monumental at the moment. She nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, and managed a small smile.

“That would be nice, thank you.” She looked up at him, the kindness in his expression easing some of the tension coiling within her. “I’m Tori, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Tori. I’m Alex,” he said, extending his hand for a shake. His grip was firm yet warm, a stark contrast to the chill she felt lingering in her chest.

“Nice to meet you too,” she replied, feeling a bit more grounded. “I appreciate this. I didn’t mean to be a mess in the hallway.”

“Hey, everyone has their moments. You’re allowed to feel however you feel,” he said, his voice calm and reassuring. “Let’s go grab my phone, and then we can figure this out.”

With a deep breath, Tori nodded again, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the emotions swirling inside of her. Following behind Alex, the heels of their shoes both clicked against the floors as she trailed behind him.

Tori knew this wasn't one of her brighter moments, but she pushed the thought aside as she followed Alex. Once they reached the end of the hall, he stopped, turning to look at Tori before stuffing his hand into his pocket to retrieve his room key.

“Here we are,” he said, inserting the key into the lock and pushing the door open. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of lamps casting a warm ambience that felt inviting. Tori hesitated at the threshold, feeling a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. “Come on in,” Alex encouraged, gesturing for her to enter. “I promise I won’t bite.”

Tori stepped inside, the plush carpet cushioning her feet as she took in the room. It was tastefully decorated, with modern furnishings and a view of the city skyline through the large window. She felt a momentary sense of calm wash over her, a stark contrast to the turmoil she had just experienced.

“Let me grab my phone,” Alex said, moving toward the small desk in the corner. Tori stood awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do with herself. She could hear the muffled sounds of the party still going on outside, laughter and music blending into a distant hum.

“Do you want some water or anything?” Alex asked, glancing back at her. “You look like you could use it.”

“Water would be great, thank you,” Tori replied, her voice steadier now. She watched as he moved to the mini-fridge, pulling out a bottle and handing it to her. Their fingers brushed briefly, sending a small jolt of electricity through her.

“For you,” he said, his smile warm and genuine. “Take your time. I’ll just grab my phone and make a quick call.”

Tori took a sip of the water, feeling the coolness soothe her parched throat. She leaned against the wall, allowing herself a moment to breathe and collect her thoughts. The earlier chaos felt like a distant memory, and Alex’s presence was surprisingly comforting.

As he dialled a number, she couldn’t help but observe him. There was something about his demeanour—calm, collected, and genuinely kind—that made her feel at ease. He seemed to have a way of cutting through the noise, grounding her in the moment.

“Hey, it’s me,” Alex said into the phone, his tone professional yet relaxed. “I need you to do me a favour. Can you bring a spare key to room 312? There’s a guest who’s locked out.” He paused, listening intently. “Yeah, thanks. I appreciate it.”

After hanging up, he turned back to Tori, a satisfied smile on his face. “All set. They’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“Thank you so much,” Tori said, her heart swelling with gratitude. “I didn’t expect anyone to help me like this, you certainly didn't have to.”

“These places are kinda the family business, I have to give our guests a reason to want to return.”Tori chuckled softly, appreciating his lightheartedness.

“Family business?” she repeated.

“My father owns this hotel and a few others across Europe, however, this location and this specific view happens to be my favourite,” Alex explained softly as he unbuttoned his blazer, pulling it from his body so he could hang it over the back of a chair.

Tori's curiosity was piqued as she listened to him speak. “Wow, that’s impressive. I can see why you’d have a soft spot for it. The view is amazing.” She moved closer to the window, gazing out at the city lights glimmering like stars against the night sky.

“Yeah, it is,” Alex replied, joining her at the window. “There’s something about seeing the city from this height that makes you feel alive, don’t you think?”

Tori nodded, her previous insecurities momentarily forgotten as she shared this moment with him, a kind stranger. “It’s beautiful. It makes me feel…small in a good way if that makes sense.”

He turned to her, his expression thoughtful. “It makes perfect sense. Sometimes we need that perspective to realize that the things weighing us down don’t matter as much in the grand scheme of things.”

Tori glanced at him, surprised by the depth of his words. There was an unexpected wisdom in his demeanour, a maturity that went hand in hand with the poise and confidence that he exuded.

Downstairs, Jude found himself at the conclusion of an impromptu lap dance from a woman whose name he didn't know and who would likely slip from his memory just as quickly as she appeared.

The dimly lit room pulsated with a vibrant energy, the sounds of laughter and chatter blending with the pulsating beat of the music that filled the air.

As he slowly rose to his feet, a relaxed smile crept across his face, illuminated by the colourful lights that flickered around him. He scanned the crowd, searching for Tori amidst the lively crowd, ready to fall back into the bubble of intimacy they'd created for themselves.

But as he surveyed the room, an unsettling feeling settled in his stomach. Tori was nowhere to be found. The laughter and joy surrounding him felt hollow in her absence.

“Hey, Jude!” one of his teammates called out, clapping him on the back. “Are you ready for another drink?”

Jude forced a smile, but his mind was elsewhere. “Yeah, just give me a second,” he replied, stepping away from the group.

He made his way to the bar, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tori somewhere in the crowd, but it was as if she had vanished.

Reaching into his back pocket he pulled out his phone and quickly scrolled through his contacts, searching for Tori's number. His thumb hovered over her name, hesitating as thoughts raced through his mind.

He took a deep breath, shaking off the doubts. She deserved to know that he was looking for her, that he cared. He pressed the call button, heart pounding as he brought the phone to his ear.

The ringing sounded louder than the music, each tone a reminder of how much he needed her. But after the third ring, it went to voicemail and his stomach dropped.

Briskly making his way towards the exit of the sprawling hotel suite, Jude stepped into a long hallway, looking up and down to see if he spotted Tori.

The hallway was dimly lit, and the music from the party faded into a distant thrum behind him. Jude’s heart raced as he called out her name softly, “Tori?” The sound echoed back, swallowed by the silence surrounding him.

He pushed through the door leading to the entryway of the suite, scanning the bustling crowd for any sign of her. The laughter and chatter around him only amplified his sense of urgency and panic. Where could she have gone?

“Jude!” Eduardo approached, drink in hand, oblivious to the turmoil swirling in Jude’s mind. “You good? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Have you seen Tori?” Jude asked, cutting him off. “She was right here earlier…” His voice trailed off as he gestured to the now-empty space beside him.

His teammate shrugged, glancing around. “I thought she was with you. The last time I saw her we were all watching you get a lap dance,” he smiled knowingly.

“Do you think that's why she left?” Jude asked, his heart sinking further. The thought that Tori might have felt humiliated or overshadowed by the spectacle gnawed at him.

Eduardo shook his head, a nonchalant frown replacing his smile. “I didn’t notice. But do you really care? There are so many girls here.”

Jude felt a blood-chilling wave wash over him, sending a sharp pang of sorrow through his heart for Tori. He recalled the unease flickering in her eyes when she told him she had overheard Eduardo's careless remark earlier that day.

Exiting the hotel room for a second time, Jude ignored the calls of his teammate as he made his way towards the elevator, checking his pocket to see if he still had her room key.

He felt a surge of determination. He had to find her and make sure she was okay. The elevator doors opened, and he stepped inside, pressing the button for her floor. As the elevator ascended, he ran through a mental checklist of where she might be.

The thought of her feeling abandoned or upset gnawed at him, and he cursed himself for not being more attentive.

When the doors opened, Jude rushed out, his heart pounding as he approached Tori's room. The hallway was quiet, and he felt a pang of dread settling in his chest. He knocked softly on her door but was met with silence.

“Tori?” he called, his voice strained with worry. He knocked again, louder this time, his impatience growing. Still, there was no response.

Just as he was about to give up hope, he heard the faint sound of laughter from down the hall. He turned to see her walking towards him accompanied by a woman dressed in the hotel's uniform, and another man he'd never seen before.

Tori looked a little more composed than she had before, but the light in her eyes seemed dimmed. Jude's heart raced as he took in the scene. She was smiling, but it didn't reach her eyes, and that made him uneasy. The man beside her had an easy, confident demeanor, and the sight of him standing close to Tori made a knot form in Jude's stomach.

“Tori!” he called, stepping closer, his voice cutting through the murmur of the hallway. She turned at the sound of his voice, and for a brief moment, their eyes locked.

“Jude,” she replied, a hint of surprise in her tone. The man beside her glanced between the two of them, clearly assessing the situation. It went to the out saying he knew exactly who Jude was, it was seldom that a man of his stature went unnoticed.

“Everything okay?” Jude asked, his eyes darting to Tori’s face, searching for any signs of distress. He felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him as he noticed the way the stranger stood close, his presence a stark contrast to the vulnerability Tori had shown before.

“Yeah, just… waiting for a spare key,” Tori said, her voice steadying as she gestured toward the hotel staff member beside her. “This is Alex. He was helping me out.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jude said, offering a quick, rather dismissive nod, though he couldn’t shake the feeling of jealousy creeping into his chest. “I was looking for her. I didn’t know where she went.”

Alex stepped forward slightly, his demeanor calm and collected. “Tori was feeling a little upset and overwhelmed at whatever happened between you, so I offered to help her get back into her room. We’ve been waiting for the spare key to arrive.”

“I’ve got it from here,” Jude interjected, the words slipping out before he could think them through. The tension in the air thickened as he shot a glance at Alex, his expression stern. “Tori, are you okay?”

Tori hesitated, the warmth of Alex’s presence fading as she turned her gaze between the two men. “I’m okay, really. I was upset and Alex was just being nice. I didn’t want to go back to the party, that’s all.”

Jude’s heart sank at her words. “You shouldn’t have had to feel that way in the first place. I’m sorry for how things went down back there.” His voice softened as he looked directly into her eyes, hoping to convey his sincerity.

Tori felt a mix of emotions swirling within her as she met Jude's earnest gaze. His apology hit her like a wave, and she could see the concern etched on his face. It was a stark contrast to the chaotic scene she had just escaped from.

“Jude, it’s not just about tonight,” she said, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to explain. “I guess I just feel…”

“Can we talk about this somewhere more private?” Jude asked, growing annoyed with the presence of Tori’s new friend Alex.

Tori nodded, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on her. “Yeah, of course,” she replied, her heart racing as she glanced at Alex, who seemed to sense the shift in the air.

“Thanks for your help, Alex,” Jude said, his tone more clipped than he intended. “I think we’re good from here.”

Alex raised an eyebrow but nodded in understanding. “No problem. I hope everything works out for you both,” he said, giving Tori a reassuring smile before stepping back.

As the hotel staff member approached with the spare key, Tori accepted it with a murmured thanks, her mind racing. She turned to Jude, who was already watching her intently, concern etched deep in his features.

“Let’s go inside,” she suggested, unlocking the door and stepping into her room. The moment they were alone, Tori felt the familiar sense of safety wash over her, but it was tinged with uncertainty as she faced Jude.

He closed the door behind them, and they stood in the dimly lit room, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. Tori felt a rush of emotions—relief, anxiety, and a flicker of hope that they could navigate through this together.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jude asked, his voice low and filled with concern as he took a step closer to her. “I saw you with Alex, and I wasn’t sure what to think.”

Tori took a breath, trying to gather her thoughts. “I was feeling overwhelmed, Jude. I didn’t expect to see you with someone else so… carefree. I guess I let my insecurities get the best of me tonight.”

Jude’s expression softened as he processed her words. “I had no idea that you felt that way, Tori. I should have checked in with you. I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable or overlooked.”

Tori shook her head, her heart racing at the vulnerability they were sharing. “It’s not just you. It’s me too. I’ve been struggling with my own feelings, and seeing you surrounded by so many people, all of them drawn to you… I felt small and out of place.”

Jude’s heart ached at her confession, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He never intended for Tori to feel that way, and the thought of her feeling isolated in a crowd made his stomach churn. “I never wanted you to feel that way. You’re not small, Tori. You’re incredible, and I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise,” he said earnestly, stepping closer to her.

Tori glanced up, searching his eyes for sincerity. “It’s just… this is your world, I may have been naive to think I could fit in so easily. I like being around you, but sometimes it feels like I’m an outsider looking in.”

Jude shook his head at her words. “Tori, you belong here. You belong with me,” he said firmly, taking another step closer, closing the distance between them.

“It’s not about the parties or the crowd, or who I am to everyone else; it’s about us. I care about you, and I want you to feel comfortable being around me, no matter where we are.” he continued.

“What if I don't know how to be?”

#jude bellingham smut #fanfic #jude bellingham #chick lit #jude bellingham imagine #real madrid #jude bellingham fanfic #jude victor willliam bellingham #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham imagines #jobe bellingham #kylian mbappe #eduardo camavinga #smut #jb5

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citrusipop · 16 hours ago

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untitled . cho hyun-ju

Hyun-Ju stared out the window at the bustling streets below. Nights like this always weighed heavily on her—nights when sleep felt like a distant luxury. Her gaze remained fixed on the city lights as the haunting memories of that dreadful game replayed in her mind. The echo of screams and gunfire was replaced by the hum of car engines and the occasional honk of a horn. It was a small comfort, a reminder that she was far from that nightmare, safe in the warmth of a soft, cozy bed.

Her thoughts drifted to you, and her heart softened. She remembered how, the moment she returned, her first instinct was to find you. Oh, how she longed to be in your arms again, to feel the familiar warmth of your embrace and the gentle kiss on her cheek that always welcomed her. It felt like only yesterday—the day she knocked on your apartment door. You had stood there, smiling through tears, as if you couldn’t believe she was truly there.

Suddenly, a pair of warm arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back to the present. She flinched slightly at the unexpected touch but quickly relaxed.

“Hi,” you mumbled groggily, your voice muffled by sleep. You clung to her, resting your cheek against her back, seeking the comfort of her presence. The empty space beside you had roused you, and without hesitation, you wrapped her in your arms.

“I’m sorry… Did I wake you?” she asked softly, her hand instinctively covering yours. There was a hint of guilt in her voice, but as her heartbeat steadied against your touch, she felt a wave of quiet relief.

You shook your head, holding her a little tighter. The thought of her sitting alone in the dark tugged at your heart. You knew her sleepless nights all too well—the ones haunted by the shadows of her past. Though you admired her resilience, you couldn’t ignore the weight she carried.

Gently, you shifted to face her, cupping her cheek in your hand. Leaning in, you pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice filled with warmth and reassurance. Your thumb brushed against her cheek, a small gesture meant to soothe her.

She met your gaze with a soft smile, her eyes brimming with affection. “I love you too,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Those words, fragile yet precious, felt like a promise—a quiet affirmation that she was here, with you, safe.

As you lay back together, she nestled against your chest, her head resting where she could hear the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. The once-deafening screams and cries were replaced by that soothing cadence. The cold, unyielding bed of her memories gave way to the warmth of your embrace, and the scent of blood was replaced by the faint, familiar trace of your perfume.

Your fingers gently combed through her hair, twirling the strands in a soothing rhythm. She looked up at you, her eyes soft and full of gratitude. “Thank you for being here with me,” she whispered, her voice delicate, like a breeze carrying her deepest emotions.

Her lips brushed against the nape of your neck in a tender kiss, and her arms tightened around you as she clung to you like a koala, unwilling to let go.

The warmth of your body lulled her to sleep, her breathing slowing as she drifted off. Looking down at her peaceful face, you made a quiet vow to yourself: you would always be there to make her smile, no matter what. Pressing one last kiss to her head, you closed your eyes and let sleep claim you both, the world outside forgotten in the safety of each other’s arms.

a.n . this one kinda random, and it’s like 2am but i just cant sleep so sorry if it isn’t my best work LOL having sleep troubles is no go frl !!

#cho hyun ju #cho hyun ju x reader #cho hyun-ju #cho hyunju #cho hyunju x reader #hyun ju #hyun ju x reader #hyun-ju x reader #hyunju #hyunju x reader #squid game hyun ju #hyun-ju #squid game 2 #squid game #squid game x reader #player 120 #squid game cho hyunju #i should be sleeping #but i cant

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lustnhim · 2 days ago

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‘birthday boy’ — elvis x reader fluff

note: fluff / warnings: none really, could come across as a little sad though. / summary: taking care of elvis the way he deserves on his birthday.

January 8th 1977.

Forty-two. 42. Fordy too. Over and over in his head like a broken record. Elvis knew it was creeping up on him, age usually did creep up on people- but it was never a surprise to him. Each passing year, each candle added on to the cake, the loneliness was inevitable. Elvis sat morose in an armchair, his eyes heavy with the weight of the years and the burdens they carried. As his friends and confidants milled about, their laughter and chatter filling the rooms of Graceland, Elvis felt alone. It was as if he was observing his own life through a frosted pane of glass, the world on the other side vibrant and alive, while he remained suspended in a grey haze of melancholy. The Memphis Mafia had planned a huge surprise party, decorating the house and baking the biggest cake he’d ever seen in his life– but that’s not what Elvis wanted. Elvis wanted someone to be there. To really be there.

Sitting in a haze of his own thoughts, cigar smoke pooling out of his mouth as people walked in and out of the room all coming up to him, wishing him a happy birthday, hanging around for a bit then heading back to the party that was supposed to be for him. Taking a deep inhale of his cigar Elvis let his head fall back, pushing the smoke up into the air before soft footsteps in front of him caused him to jerk forward. In front of him stood a girl, maybe in her twenties, he couldn’t quite tell, in a blue dress with a small wrapped gift in her hands. He hadn’t seen her around before, probably one of the boys' daughters or somethin. “Well hello there honey…You alright?” Elvis asked, and the girl stood there for a minute, as if awe-struck. Elvis watched as she stared at him for a minute before clearing her throat nervously. “I-I have something for you.” She said, her arms extending to present the box to him, wrapped in silver paper with a pink bow. Elvis looked at the box then back at her, uncrossing his legs and dishing the ashes of his cigar into the ashtray, letting it rest there. “Did ya now..? Well thank you very much, darlin.” Elvis said, taking the box from the girl's hands, noting how they were shaking. The girl stood there for a minute, and Elvis smiled at her, there was something about her…she felt…new. Elvis looked at the tag on the box, written in pen was, ‘Happy Birthday, Elvis. Love, me.’ Elvis couldn’t help but laugh a bit. “Love, me? I know that ain’t your name.” He said and the girl smiled, “I-It’s not…” She replied, taking her hands and holding them behind her back. “Well what is it?” Elvis asked and the girl shook her head, like her name was the biggest secret in this world. “Just open your present.” She said and Elvis cleared his throat, pulling the bow off gently and sitting it down on his knee. As Elvis tore away the shimmering silver paper, he revealed a small, carved wooden box. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the grain of the wood gleaming beneath his fingertips as he ran them over the smooth surface. Inside the box, nestled on a bed of pink velvet, was a delicate gold locket. It was a simple piece, but there was something about it that caught Elvis' eye - maybe it was the way it seemed to catch the light or perhaps the initials engraved upon its surface. The initials 'E' and 'P', intertwined in an elegant script. Elvis had just about everything embroidered– but this…it was different. “Let’s go downstairs. To the Jungle Room. Just me an’ you.” Elvis says he feels like he’s being too bold, but his intentions are nothing more than wholesome. He just wants to be with her alone.

Elvis picked up the locket, feeling the cool metal against his skin as he held it in his palm. He looked up at the girl, his eyes meeting hers, and in that moment, he saw a reflection of his younger self staring back at him. The same heart, the same unbridled passion and love for life that had once consumed him. "I have a note," the girl said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She handed him a small piece of folded paper, the edges wear and tear from what he could only assume was it being held close to her heart. Opening the note Elvis smiled at her handwriting, it was very loopy, very girly. The note was short and sweet, three simple words.

‘I love you.’

Elvis read the words, his heart skipping a beat. He had heard those words, read them, said them a million times, but this. This felt different. In that moment, the grey haze of melancholy that had been weighing on him lifted slightly, replaced by a faint warmth that blossomed in his chest. He looked up at the girl, really looked at her, taking in the way her blue dress looked on her, the way her eyes shined with sincerity, the way her hair fell, how she stood, her presence. Almost angelic. He sits the locket back down into the box and sits it beside the pink bow on the table, the note still in his hand. “Here, come sit on my knee.” Elvis says, and the girl hesitates, looking around the room, not like she’s looking for someone, but like she’s pressed for time. “Okay…” She says simply, moving over and sitting on his knee, her body is tense and Elvis' body is too. Her legs are between his, she looks down at the ground, still shaking. “Why are ya so nervous, honey? It’s just me.” Elvis says gently, his hand reaching to touch hers and when it does she lets out a soft gasp. “That’s just it. It’s you…it’s really you.” She says with a soft smile on her face. Elvis is confused but he doesn’t press further. She’s obviously a fan, maybe that’s it. “I ain’t nothin’ special darlin’ not anymore.” Elvis says, his fingers intertwining with hers. Her hand feels so small, so delicate in his. “You’re so special. Even now.” She says and clicks her tongue, like she slipped up. “I wish you could see what's gonna happen..” She continues and Elvis clears his throat. “What do you mean, honey?” He asks, “I can’t say.” And that was it. Elvis wasn’t going to press any further, just like he didn’t before.

“Where did you get that locket?” Elvis asks, and the girl blushes deeply at Elvis's question, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress. She looks up at him from beneath long, dark lashes, her eyes wide and uncertain. "I... I had it made," she confesses softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "For you. For your birthday." Elvis raises an eyebrow, flattered. "All fa’ me?" He picks up the locket, turning it over in his large hands, examining the intricate engraving. "It’s beautiful honey. The best thing I've been given in a long time." The girl smiles shyly at his compliment, a pretty blush coloring her cheeks. "Thank you. I wanted to give you something... special. Before I have to go." She says quietly. "Well I hope you ain’t leavin’ anytime soon." Elvis says warmly, his thumb brushing over the initials etched into the gold. He looks at the girl, really looks at her, trying to discern the enigma wrapped in blue. "I’m enjoyin’ your company an awful lot.” The girl's breath catches, a soft gasp escaping her lips. She looks away, suddenly self-conscious. "I just wanted to show you... that you're still special to people. No matter what they say about you." Elvis feels a strange tightening in his chest, an unfamiliar but welcome warmth spreading through him. He squeezes the girl's hand gently, "You shouldn't be spendin’ your time with an old man.” he murmurs, clearing his throat, sitting the locket back. “You’re a pretty girl. I’m sure you could be pourin’ your love into someone better.” The girl's eyes widen at Elvis's words, a flash of something intense and almost painful crossing her face before she lowers her gaze. "No," she whispers fiercely, her small hand tightening around his, "No one could ever be better than you, Elvis. No one."

She takes a shuddering breath before continuing, her voice low and intense. "You don't understand. I've... I've waited so long for this moment. Dreamed about it. And now..." She shakes her head, curls tumbling around her face. "I can't let it go. I won't let it go.” The girl leans in closer, her face mere inches from Elvis's. He can feel her warm breath feathering against his skin, smell the sweet scent of her perfume. "I love you," she breathes, her eyes blazing into his with an almost desperate intensity. "I love you in a way you can't possibly imagine. And I'm not leaving until... until I've shown you how much." Elvis feels a shiver run down his spine at the raw, unbridled emotion in her voice. It's been so long since someone has looked at him like this, with such naked, all-consuming devotion. He's used to the girls, to the fans who love the idea of him, the legend. But this girl... she's different. She sees him. He raises a hand to cup her face, his calloused fingers gently stroking her soft cheek. "Now honey," he murmurs, but there's no real conviction in his voice. "You don’t mean that." Despite his words, Elvis finds himself leaning in closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. He's tired of the hollow celebrations, the plastic smiles and empty toasts. This girl... she's the first genuine thing that's happened to him in years. He doesn’t want this party, this extravagance, all these people here- he just wants it to be him and this girl. “I absolutely mean it.” She says, her voice not wavering. Elvis smiles, it’s almost bittersweet in a way he can’t quite understand.

“I want everyone else to leave. I just want it to be me an’ you.” Elvis says, beginning to move. The girl gets up and watches as he walks out of the Living Room and into the kitchen. Elvis pushes his way through the crowd of people till he finds Red West. “Listen man, I ain’t feelin’ too good…you mind sendin’ all these folks out?” He asks, eager to get back to that girl. Red looked at Elvis with concern etched on his weathered face. He had known Elvis for years, had seen him through countless ups and downs, and he could tell that something was different this time. "You sure you want to do that, Elvis?" Red asked, his voice low and cautious. "I mean, this is your birthday party. All these folks are here to celebrate with you." Elvis sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know, I know. But I just... I need some time. Alone. With her." Elvis's gaze drifted back to the girl in the blue dress, who was now standing alone by the fireplace, her eyes still fixed on him. Red followed Elvis's gaze, a hint of understanding dawning on his face. "Ah, I see," he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Alright then. I'll take care of it." Red clapped Elvis on the shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "But don't be a stranger, ya hear? It ain't every day a guy turns forty-two." Elvis just nodded, already starting to make his way back to the living room. The crowd hurried out within minutes as he approached the girl, the chatter and laughter fading into a distant hum. As he drew near, the girl looked up at him, her eyes shining with a mix of hope and trepidation. Elvis held out his hand to her, his usual bravado replaced with a newfound vulnerability. "Come on," he said softly, "I want to show you somethin'."The girl placed her small hand in his, and Elvis felt a warmth spread through him at her touch. He led her out of the living room, past the grand staircase, and down the long hallway towards the Jungle Room. As they entered the opulent space, with its lush greenery and decadent decor, Elvis pulled the girl close to him. The doors swung shut behind them with a soft click, and suddenly it was just the two of them, alone amidst the tangle of tropical plants and plush furnishings. Elvis turned to face the girl, his hands resting gently on her waist. "I ain't never been much for crowds," he confessed, his voice low and intimate in the quiet of the room. "But I gotta say, I'm real happy you came." The girl looked up at him, her eyes wide and wondering. "I've been waiting for this moment for so long," she whispered, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. "I didn't think... I mean, I never imagined..."Imagined what, angel?" Elvis murmured, his head lowering so that his forehead rested against hers. "Tell me." The girl took a shuddering breath, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "I imagined this. Us. Alone.” Elvis shakes his head, “You act like you weren’t gonna see me in my own home.” He teases, but the girl just nods.

Elvis gazed down at the girl, his heart swelling with a warmth he hadn't felt in years. Her presence, her words, her touch... it was all so real, so genuine. He could feel the love radiating off her in waves, washing over him like a soothing balm. Elvis knew he should be wary, should guard his heart like the precious treasure it was. But there was something about this girl, something that made him want to let go, to surrender to the feeling blossoming in his chest. As if reading his thoughts, the girl reached up and gently cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing over the weathered skin. "You're thinking too much," she murmured softly, a gentle admonishment. "Just for once, Elvis... don't think. Feel." Slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away or object, Elvis leaned in closer. He could feel her warm breath mingling with his own, could see the way her pulse fluttered wildly at the base of her throat. He paused for a moment, letting anticipation build, before closing the remaining distance and pressing his lips to hers. The girl made a soft noise deep in her throat, her hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer. Elvis let himself get lost in the sensation, in the warmth and softness of her mouth under his. He kissed her slowly, tenderly, trying to pour every ounce of emotion and longing into the single embrace. When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing harder, their eyes glazed with a newfound hunger. The girl leaned her forehead against his, a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "I love you," she whispered, the words tickling his skin. "All of you. The man you are now." Elvis felt tears prick his eyes. What was going on? He felt so…loved. So safe. So adored. He didn’t need the fans, the money, the fame…this was all he wanted. “I love you too, Angel. An’ I want you ta’ stay.” He says, and the girl takes a finger and wipes the tears from under his eyes.

“I’ll stay.”

She says, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Happy Birthday Elvis.”

first off, happy heavenly birthday elvis presley. words cannot even begin to express how much better my life has been since i have begun listening to and loving elvis. i wanted to post this at exactly midnight but i also posted on my other platforms 😓 i also want to thank you all for 500+ followers, i cannot believe i have been blessed with this community- i love you all so very much.

taglist: @hooked-on-elvis @atleastpleasetelephone @lola-1013 @indiatuck @eptodaytommorowforever @suspiciousmindsxo @tupelomiss @myradiaz @i-r-i-n-a-a @elvispresley1956 @sisssygirl @your-nanas-house @callieselvisobsessed @eapep @auntbee22 @elvisiana @ladelinee @jhoneybees @elviswhore69 @sissylittlefeather @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @louisejoy86 @cherrycolaride @sloppyzengarden @daughterdelrey @iloveelvisss @theelvisprincess @fairybloodsucker

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luv-beam · 2 days ago

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HI TARA!!! my thoughts while reading are under the cut :'))) but i gotta say that i fall in love w ur writing every time i read something from u:

• i would like to start off w the fact that u set the scene so incredibly well, like im in awe and envy at this beautiful scene ur painting for us 😭 not to mention that it all flows really well too; just a strong opening paragraph

• awwwh PLS THE BIG BROTHER LITTLE SISTER DYNAMIC!!! when the little sis thinks the absolute world of her big bro :'))) and when she's even more mad than he is LMAO the TOAD LINE??? damn seokmin i was not aware of ur game

• lowkey i would have folded that fast too if duke lee seokmin of lancaster played along and kissed my hand

• this starting line ^ crazy good... like i'd like to sear this into my mind so i never forget it?? the social szn unfolds like a delicate fan??? adding another layer to the tapestry of ur life??? lee seokmin????

• HE HAS AN UNCANNY ABILITY TO ELEVATE THE ORDINARY UGHHHHH WHAAAAT A LINE i love that so, so much and it's so true as well

• awwwh yn and seokhao's goodbyes are so sweet :'')))) im so glad they all hold so much affection for one another

• "your penchant for wool is far more than my eyes could bear" im cryingksnfkdnjf seokmin sulking over the wool while he's away,, sometimes i like to imagine him as a damsel draping himself out of the window sill of a tower

• i love how yn describes herself feeling empty while hes away like heh... i know something u dont... heh :))))) and crocheting? me too!!! so cute that she made him smth

• TARA U R A MASTER AT IMAGERY!! the opening lines of age 15 are mwah chefs kiss like if i could draw/paint, i would literally turn this fic into a graphic novel for u

• tulip... brb while i burst into tears

• started grinning like an idiot while reading this ^ i can see his playful melodrama and the smile on his face,,, im so down bad like i would fold like a lawn chair if we played around like this irl (i say as a grown ass woman)

• oh how i do love the classic brushing of the limbs that gets the mcs blushing like hell... also love what u did there w the planting seeds in ur mind to decode later while they're literally planting flowers... i see u tara u genius

• oh wow the total 180 w the reveal of the duke's death (also seokmin addressing her as my dearest tulip TT) — thinking of seokmin entering the social szn as a recently-made duke and all the girls hounding after him in his fresh grief......

• this section (seok and hao just got back after the death reveal) is short but so bittersweet. like when u give seok the swords from the flower bed and he just kind of chuckles like yes... days gone by huh... UGH

• it breaks my heart to know that seokhao now have their dead fathers as something in common 😭😭😭 its sweet tho to know they're all looking out for each other. im w yn tho, i hope hers and haos relationship isnt negatively affected by this :'))

• THE RETURN OF THE TAPESTRY METAPHOR

• okay i have to confess something... this is my second time reading thru... and so im reading the part where minghao and yn talk in the garden and he's warning her of the whispers springing up abt her and seok and im like... freaking out bc i KNOW WHAT HAPPENS 😭 IM GNAWING MY FIST LIKE IK THAT HAO'D CONCERN IS SINCERE AND IM JUST SJFNKENFKFJF THIS SCENE HOLDS SO MUCH MORE WEIGHT DURING A REREAD (why i love comparing my thoughts btwn a first and second read tho, like u see things /differently/)

• i love the teasing and sweet assurances in the letters 😭 like they're so genuine and cute (rip minghao)

• AHHHHH THE SMOKING SCENE FROM SZN ONEEEE i like this change of dynamic tho instead of being btwn siblings, it's now btwn two love interests friends

• WE CANT ALWAYS HAVE WHAT OUR HEARTS DESIRE???? WHILE LOOKING AT US LIKE THAT LEE SEOKMIN????????? HHEHDJDJFJFJKFKFK

• sure sure fencing BUT YEARNING TO FIND LOVE?? BUT MY DEAR SIR?? YOUR GRACE, YOUR LOVE IS RIGHT NEXT TO U

• THE LONGING AND ASPECT OF THE FORBIDDEN MAKES THE SMALL DISTANCE BTWN U YAWN LIKE A CHASM AHHHH THIS PASSAGE!!!! like oof... i love angst and yearning like this, where im screaming at my phone screen to just kiss her already (knowing the... perilous journey ahead... heh...)

• friend.... FRIEND???? brb gonna go waltz into oncoming traffic

• oh the way this ends 😭😭😭 like my heart is being squeezed,,, the way he whispers tulip and the roots of ur love for him take hold UGGGHH!!! I CANT DO THIS

i will have to endure for another day tho and i will return for chapter two tmrw! i loved this even more than the first time i read it (and i loved it a lot then too)!! i was really able to sit w ur words this time, and i do have to say tara that u have such a talent for imagery, like omg this was so beautiful TT but thank u for writing this!! hope ur having a lovely day/night and i'll be back o7 💖

The Somerset Affair | Chapter 1: Whispers in the Garden

pairing: lsk x fem!reader genre: Bridgerton AU, friends to (?????) to eventual lovers, brother’s best friend, SLOWWWW BURNNN chapter wc: 8.2k warnings: alcohol consumption, societal expectations, eventual smut, more to be added a/n: CHAPTER 1 IS FINALLY HEREEEE // as always, ENORMOUS thanks to indi @wongyuseokie for this GORGEOUSSSS banner // and to my lovely betas shu @welcometomyoasis lou @tusswrites haneul @chanranghaeys this could not have happened without you // 2nd chapter will be up soon!!!

summary: lee seokmin is a scoundrel for having beaten your brother at fencing. or... is he?

comment to be tagged when chapters are posted, or join the fic taglist here!

Age 8

Mayfair is alive today. The Somerset estate hums with energy, a ripple of excitement passing through the gathered crowd, their eyes all fixed on the fencing match taking place in the wide, manicured garden. The afternoon sun casts a golden haze over the scene, warming the air and wrapping everything in a soft, honeyed glow. Laughter and chatter float like music across the grounds, underscored by the occasional ring of steel clashing against steel. The sweet fragrance of roses drifts on the light breeze, mingling with the fresh scent of cut grass. You sit near the front, your small hands gripping the edge of your chair, bouncing with excitement as you watch your older brother, Minghao, spar against a boy you've never seen before.

This new boy stands tall, his dark hair tousled in the breeze, and a sharp determination shines in his eyes. The way he moves—it’s confident, with an energy that seems far beyond his years. Your brother, usually so self-assured, falters as the boy steps onto the mat. A flicker of unease passes through you, twisting in your stomach. You can feel the tension, see it in the way Minghao adjusts his grip on his sword. The match begins, and every time the swords collide, the sound reverberates through your chest. Your heart sinks a little more with each point your brother loses, and soon, the inevitable happens—the newcomer disarms Minghao with a flourish so smooth it draws gasps and murmurs from the audience.

"Such skill!" someone whispers, while others erupt in applause, their cheers filling the air. But you remain still, arms crossed tightly over your chest, brows drawn into a deep frown. How dare this boy defeat your brother? And so effortlessly! You want to scowl, to hold on to your anger, but the sound of the crowd’s cheers washes over you, making your resentment grow.

Seokmin—that’s his name, you overhear—steps forward, offering Minghao a hand, his smile wide and bright like the afternoon sun. "A splendid match, my lord," he says, his voice rich and full of youthful pride. "I must confess, I didn’t expect to come away unscathed!"

You narrow your eyes, watching as your brother, ever gracious, accepts the handshake. There's a mixture of admiration and annoyance in his expression, a good-natured acknowledgment of defeat. They exchange lighthearted jests, their laughter mixing with the lingering applause. But you? You're fuming. This boy, with his easy smile and seemingly endless charm, had just bested your brother, and you feel a burning need to dislike him for it.

Then, as if sensing your discontent, Seokmin turns to you, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Ah, you must be Lord Minghao’s sister?” he says, his grin widening into something playful, teasing. “Goodness, you make him look like a toad by comparison!”

Your mouth drops open in shock, a wave of indignation rushing through you. How dare he say such a thing? And worse—how could your brother laugh? "I beg your pardon?" you snap, standing as tall as your small frame will allow, arms crossing even tighter across your chest.

"Oh, I mean no offense, miss," Seokmin chuckles, clapping Minghao on the shoulder. "I jest, of course! Merely saying that you’re far lovelier than your brother—though, admittedly, it’s not a particularly high bar."

Despite yourself, your scowl begins to soften. There’s something about the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, the lightness in his voice. It’s hard to stay angry when he looks at you like that, as if daring you to join in on the joke.

“Mama says men who try to charm without revealing their titles aren’t to be trusted,” you counter, lifting your chin with defiant pride. The quip comes out sharper than intended, but you’re determined not to let him get the better of you.

Minghao gasps, hands raised in mock horror. “Sister, truly, must you always speak so boldly?” He turns to Seokmin with an exaggerated sigh. “Please Seokmin, do forgive her. I assure you, turning eight has done little to improve her temperament.”

“You’re only two years older than me, brother!” you huff, your voice a touch more indignant. Before you can continue, though, Seokmin drops into a low, dramatic bow, the movement exaggerated and theatrical.

“The fault is entirely mine, my lady,” he says in mock seriousness, rising and extending his hand toward you. “Lord Lee Seokmin, future Duke of Lancaster. At your service.”

Two years of etiquette lessons flood your mind, and with a sudden burst of excitement, you place your small hand in his. Seokmin bows once more, this time dropping a playful kiss on your knuckles as you curtsy. You can hear Minghao’s exasperated sigh as he rolls his eyes, but you ignore him, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Maybe Seokmin isn't such a scoundrel after all.

As the day wears on, you find yourself watching Seokmin from the corner of your eye. Despite your earlier indignation, there’s something undeniably captivating about him. You notice the way he treats everyone with kindness, far beyond what’s expected from someone his age. When a younger child stumbles near the fencing ring, it’s Seokmin who rushes to their side, kneeling in the dirt, his voice gentle as he asks, "Are you alright?" He helps the child up, brushing off their clothes with such care, you can’t help but be touched. "Fear not," he says, a smile returning to his face, "you’re not a toad—you’re a knight in training!"

The sight makes your heart soften further. How could someone so infuriating also be so kind? The lines of irritation you had drawn between you and Seokmin begin to blur, shifting into something more like curiosity.

As the sun sinks low, casting a warm amber glow over the estate, you find yourself gravitating closer to where Seokmin and Minghao stand, their voices rising and falling in animated conversation about fencing techniques. Seokmin’s laughter, bright and carefree, fills the air like music, and before you know it, you’re smiling too; there’s something undeniably magnetic about him.

Despite your best efforts, you can no longer deny the strange fluttering in your chest—a curiosity, perhaps even fascination, that you hadn’t expected. Maybe, just maybe, Seokmin isn’t such a scoundrel after all.

The days of the social season unfold like a delicate fan, each gathering adding another layer to the tapestry of your life, and with every event, Seokmin becomes a constant presence. He is no longer just an occasional guest—he’s a breath of fresh air, his laughter ringing through the halls of your family’s estate, turning even the dullest moments into something lively and bright.

The lively soirées your parents host become a stage for his effortless charm. Ladies in the latest fashions exchange flirtatious glances in his direction, while gentlemen engage in animated debates about politics and sport, the buzz of conversation always punctuated by Seokmin’s easy laughter. His presence transforms these gatherings, turning what once felt like routine social maneuvering into vibrant affairs filled with warmth and genuine joy.

Whether he’s lending a hand to your mother in the garden, his sleeves rolled up and face relaxed in concentration, or sparring with your brother in a friendly match, Seokmin has this uncanny ability to elevate the ordinary. What might be a simple afternoon stroll or an idle conversation becomes a moment of significance when he’s around. Sun-drenched afternoons spent wandering the estate take on a new glow, each moment painted with the sound of his voice, the infectious energy he brings.

Age 14

The day Minghao and Seokmin leave for Eton is etched in your mind with vivid clarity, every detail sharp and impossible to forget. The morning is cool, yet the sun spills across the courtyard in golden rays, casting long shadows from the trees that sway gently in the breeze. The scent of dew-laden grass mixes with the faint perfume of your mother’s rose garden, but even the beauty of the estate feels muted by the melancholy lingering in the air.

Minghao, ever composed, stands with the straight posture expected of him, his hands clasped behind his back, looking every inch the young man ready to step into his responsibilities. His face, though calm, carries the weight of leaving home, but he hides it well, his eyes betraying only a flicker of the emotions swirling beneath the surface.

Seokmin, on the other hand, struggles more visibly with the impending farewell. His usual cheerful grin falters, the lightness of his presence dimmed as he glances between you and Minghao. He tries to keep up his usual charm, cracking jokes that feel just a little too forced, his laughter not ringing as true as it normally does. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, a softness you haven’t seen before, as if he’s trying to hide his own sadness behind that well-worn mask of joviality.

As they load their trunks into the carriage, a heavy knot forms in your chest. You know you’ll miss your brother, but it’s Seokmin’s departure that stings deeper. He’s been more than a friend these past years—he’s been a constant, a steady warmth you’ve come to rely on. His laughter, his easy charm, the way he could turn even the most mundane day into something special. The thought of him being gone, of not seeing him wander the estate with his boundless energy, makes your heart ache in a way you didn’t anticipate.

You step forward, your fingers trembling as you reach for Seokmin’s hand, your grip tighter than intended. “Promise me you’ll write?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper, each word trembling with the effort to hold back tears.

Seokmin’s eyes soften as he looks down at you, his usual grin giving way to something gentler. "Of course," he says, his voice steady but quieter than usual. He squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture meant to comfort. “I’ll make sure you get the best letters—no boring stories, only adventures, I swear.” His grin returns, albeit a little weaker. "Besides, my lady, your brother and I will be back to torment you again come springtime!"

Minghao coughs politely. “No tearful goodbye for me, sister?” he asks, his voice teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of affection in his words. His eyes flicker between you and Seokmin, amusement tugging at the corners of his lips, though his posture remains upright and composed as ever.

You tear your gaze from Seokmin and offer your brother a watery smile. “Do not fret, dear brother,” you say, a bit of your usual wit returning. “I’ll save the tears for later, when the house is quiet without the two of you causing chaos.”

My Dearest Y/N,

I trust this letter finds you in fine spirits, though I daresay it is far more likely that you are wrapped in the cozy embrace of your favorite blanket, lost in a book, while the world outside continues on its merry way. I cannot help but smile at the thought, for you have always possessed the rare gift of finding joy in the mundane.

Eton is quite a spectacle, I must confess. The architecture is enough to make one feel as though they have stepped into a storybook. However, I must admit my fellow classmates lack the charm and wit of my beloved friend.

Oh, how I miss our little chats! It is a curious sensation to feel so far from home, yet I am bolstered by the knowledge that you are there, keeping our little world intact. Do tell me that you have not yet taken up knitting—your penchant for wool is far more than my eyes can bear.

Yours most fondly,Seokmin

My Dearest Seokmin,

Eton sounds positively enchanting.I must admit, the thought of you amidst all that grandeur brings me no small measure of joy—though I do hope you have not yet been swept away by the grandeur of it all! I find it impossible to imagine anyone there being quite as dashing as you.

Life here, as you suspected, is a touch quieter without your vivacious presence. I feel compelled to admit that I found myself rather melancholic the day you left. It was a curious sadness, one that clung to me like a shadow. The house feels a touch emptier, and while I do find solace in my books, nothing compares to the ease of our conversations. The warmth of your laughter is a melody I find myself longing for, especially on the coldest evenings.

Do keep writing, dear friend. Your tales from Eton are the very lifeblood of my days, and I shall regale you with the ongoing drama of our little realm. Until then, consider me your most devoted fan, ever eager for your next missive.

With all my affection,Y/N

P.S. You will take great pleasure in knowing that I have, in fact, taken up crocheting. A lovely cap, perfect for early springtime chill, awaits you at the estate.

Age 15:

Seokmin’s return each spring is as reliable as the first crocus peeking through the thawing earth, marking the true end of winter. His arrival is never just an event—it’s a burst of life that sweeps away the dullness left by the cold months. Every year, your excitement bubbles over as you anticipate that familiar moment when the world feels a little brighter with his return. The sunlight bathes the garden in warmth, a golden hue spreading like liquid over the well-trodden path he walks down, Minghao beside him. Their laughter floats through the air, a melody that harmonizes with the soft rustle of blooming flowers and the hum of spring.

When they finally come into view, your heart quickens, as if drawn into the rhythm of their steps. With Minghao’s ever-amiable grin and Seokmin’s radiant energy, they are a pair that seems to make the world tilt just a little toward joy. Every spring, it's the same—they stride toward you as if no time has passed, as if the long months apart were nothing but a brief blink in the grander scheme of your lives. And each time, the three of you fall into the same routines as though nothing has changed.

It usually begins with some mischief. They never fail to poke fun at you until you’re red-faced with exasperation. Seokmin, with that teasing glint in his eyes, will say something absurd or playfully condescending, and Minghao, ever the instigator, will back him up with a sly smirk. It’s only a matter of time before you lose your patience, yell, and stomp your foot, your protests ringing louder than you’d intended.

Your raised voice inevitably draws the attention of your mother, who reprimands you from the kitchen window with her usual fond disapproval. "Now, now," she’ll chide, a soft laugh hidden in her voice. "There’s no need to shout, dear. They’re only playing."

Of course, that’s the cue for Seokmin and Minghao to burst into laughter, doubling over in amusement at how easily they’ve ruffled your feathers. You scowl at them, but it’s hard to keep a frown on your face when they’re both so gleeful, their joy infectious, lighting up the entire garden.

One afternoon, not long after their return, Seokmin and Minghao find their old practice fencing swords—long forgotten and buried deep in the flowerbeds, peeking out from beneath the tulips. You watch as they unearth the swords with a mixture of surprise and amusement, both of them laughing as if uncovering a treasure trove of memories. Their faces are bright with nostalgia as they pull the dirt-encrusted weapons free, brushing off the petals clinging to the blades.

It's then that Seokmin starts to call you "Tulip," a private little nickname he utters only when it's just the two of you. The first time he says it, there’s a lightness to his tone, his lips curling into that mischievous smile of his. “You know,” he says, leaning in closer as you both watch Minghao attempt a ridiculous fencing stance in the distance, “it only makes sense. After all, you’ve been hiding our swords with the tulips. I think ‘Tulip’ suits you.”

At first, you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance, but there’s a warmth in your chest at how easily he’s assigned you such a tender nickname.

One particularly warm afternoon, your mother summons you to help her with the flowerbeds, a chore you reluctantly take on. The sun beats down, the heat pressing into your skin and the earth beneath your fingers, while the scent of soil and fresh blossoms hangs thick in the air. You sigh, resigning yourself to the tedious task when, suddenly, a familiar voice cuts through the stillness.

“Ah, the fair lady in her noble endeavor!” Seokmin’s voice rings out, full of his usual playful grandeur. He strides through the garden gate, sweeping an imaginary cape behind him with exaggerated flair. His smile is as bright as the sun itself, lighting up the whole space. “Fear not, for I shall be your loyal squire in this quest for botanical beauty!”

Despite your earlier annoyance, a reluctant smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. Seokmin has a way of making even the most mundane tasks feel like an adventure. You watch as he bounds toward you, his movements light and full of energy. With an exaggerated show of determination, he rolls up his sleeves, pretending to prepare for battle. The weight of the day feels lighter already.

Together, the two of you dig your hands into the soil, your fingers dirty and the air filled with the soft rustling of the leaves around you. Laughter bubbles up between the two of you, mingling with the breeze as Seokmin’s animated voice brings life to the still afternoon. As you plant flower after flower, he regales you with tales of his fencing matches at Eton, his voice lively, arms waving dramatically to mimic the grand duels he’s fought.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he says with mock gravity, “this boy was at least twice my size, and I won the match with nothing but clever footwork and a flick of the wrist!” He pantomimes the move, his arm cutting through the air like a sword.

You laugh, shaking your head at his theatrical retelling, the tension of the task dissolving with every story. It’s impossible not to get caught up in his enthusiasm. “Is that so?” you tease, barely holding back a grin.

“I daresay, footwork in fencing is quite the advantageous skill,” Seokmin says, dropping to his knees beside you with faux-seriousness, inspecting the flowerbed as though it holds the secrets to the universe. “If one can move with the grace of a dancer, one can—”

Just as he gestures again, his elbow brushes against your arm, and suddenly, time seems to slow. The lighthearted atmosphere is pierced by a spark, a ripple of warmth that travels through you. Both of you freeze, his eyes widening in surprise. His cheeks flush a light pink as he quickly pulls back, his confidence faltering for a brief second.

“My sincerest apologies,” he stammers, the usual brightness in his voice now tinged with uncharacteristic bashfulness. He resumes his work, his fingers trembling slightly as they sift through the soil. The warmth of the sun suddenly pales in comparison to the heat between you.

“It’s quite all right,” you reply, your voice shaky, your heartbeat far more rapid than you’d like. “Just... gardening, after all.” You try for casualness, but the words sound ridiculous even to your own ears, given the charged air lingering between you.

Moments later, you stand to stretch, hoping to shake off the strange energy that has settled over the both of you. Seokmin leans in to grab a nearby tool, and his shoulder brushes against yours again—this time, the contact lingers for just a second too long. The heat of it sends another jolt through you, making your heart stutter.

You gasp, startled by the unfamiliar sensation, your breath hitching. The warmth spreads from your chest down to your fingertips, a strange, foreign feeling you can’t quite name.

“Goodness! I beg your pardon again,” Seokmin says quickly, his sheepish smile returning, though this time it’s softer, more hesitant. His eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place. “It seems I have a propensity for unintentional collisions today.”

That smile—it makes your chest tighten. His presence, usually a source of comfort, now awakens something new within you, something unsettling yet undeniable. Gardening, once nothing but a mundane chore, has transformed into something far more intimate with Seokmin by your side. The flowerbeds seem to flourish under his laughter, vibrant blooms swaying as if they, too, revel in the joy of the moment.

But that foreign sensation? You tuck it deep into your mind, burying it along with the seeds you’ve planted, afraid to decode what it could mean. After all, this is Seokmin—your friend, your constant. And yet, the warmth of his touch lingers on your skin longer than it should, as if it’s quietly asking you to look closer.

My Dearest Seokmin,

I hope this letter finds you in moments of solace amidst the tumult of your recent loss. It is with a heavy heart that I pen these words, having heard of your father’s passing. The news struck me with such a weight, as though the very air around me had grown thick with sorrow. I cannot begin to fathom the grief you must be experiencing, yet please know that my thoughts and prayers are ever with you during this difficult time.

Your father was a remarkable man, a beacon of kindness and integrity, and his absence will undoubtedly leave a profound void in the hearts of all who had the privilege of knowing him. I remember fondly the stories you shared, of his wisdom and warmth, which have clearly shaped the exceptional person you have become. His legacy, I have no doubt, will endure through you.

With his passing, I know you now bear the title of Duke. While this new responsibility may feel daunting, I have every confidence you will honor his legacy with the same grace and strength he embodied. I want you to remember that you are not alone. I am here, dear friend, steadfast and unwavering, ready to support you as you navigate this uncharted territory.

I eagerly await the day when I can see your smile again, and we can talk about the flowers in the garden, just as we always have.

With all my love and deepest sympathies,Y/N

My Dearest Tulip,

Your letter brought me a flicker of light amidst the shadows that have enveloped me since my father’s passing. It is a solace to know that you, too, share in my grief, and your words resonate deeply within me, reminding me that I am not alone in this turbulent sea of sorrow.

Thank you for your kind remembrance of my father. He often spoke of you with such fondness, and knowing how he impacted your life brings me a measure of comfort. His lessons of kindness and integrity remain etched in my heart, and I strive to honor his legacy in every decision I make as Duke. It is a weight I carry with both pride and trepidation, yet the knowledge of your unwavering support gives me strength.

Though this season feels uncharted and daunting, your friendship is a cherished constant. I, too, long for the day when we can stroll through the gardens, exchanging thoughts about the flowers and sharing laughter, just as we once did. Until then, I will hold onto the warmth of your words and the memories we’ve created.

With heartfelt gratitude and affection,Seokmin

Age 16:

When Seokmin and Minghao return home the next spring, it’s clear that Seokmin carries more than just the usual joy and liveliness he always brings with him. A new weight settles over him, one you haven’t seen before. The responsibility of the Dukedom starts to bear down on him, heavy as the cloak he will one day wear. His laugh remains bright, his smile still warm, but there’s something different now—an unspoken awareness that the carefree boy of the past is slowly giving way to the man he is becoming.

He has grown taller, his limbs long and strong, and the way he carries himself now commands attention. The once-boyish face is now defined, the angle of his jaw sharper, while his arms, corded with muscles, show the signs of hard work and training. It’s as if each inch he’s gained has come with a newfound strength, and when he meets your gaze, his eyes hold a certain seriousness, as if he is seeing everything with a fresh perspective.

The easy rhythm of your old routines stays intact—Minghao teasing you until you yell, Seokmin’s booming laughter echoing across the fields, and the reprimands from your mother when your playful shouts interrupt her afternoon peace. It all feels the same, yet beneath it all, you know things are changing.

On one such afternoon, you discover their practice swords—once lost and forgotten—buried haphazardly in the flowerbed among your mother’s beloved tulips. You pull them free with a gasp, the soil still clinging to the metal, and when you bring them to Seokmin, he chuckles, the sound a little sadder than you remember.

“Well,” he says, wiping the dirt from the hilt, “seems like even the tulips want to keep us from growing up too fast, eh, Tulip?”

Despite the weight of responsibility that now shadows him, he still calls you “Tulip.” The name slips easily from his lips, playful and tender, a thread that ties your past to the present. The quiet nickname carries the bittersweet truth: your days of carefree adventures and playful banter are slowly fading, giving way to the responsibilities of adulthood. And while the world around you shifts, that name—whispered in secret—feels like a promise that some part of him, some part of both of you, will always stay the same.

My dearest Tulip,

It is with a heart full of sorrow that I write to you, upon receiving the most distressing news regarding your father’s passing. The world seems dimmer without him, and my thoughts are consumed with the weight of your grief. I wish I could be there, to hold your hand and share in the memories of a man who undoubtedly brought so much light into your life.

When the silence envelops you, when the days stretch long and heavy with unshed tears, know that I am here for you. You need not wear a mask of strength; I shall not expect it. Life has a way of changing in an instant, and though we are thrust into roles we may not be prepared for, there remains solace in companionship.

Please remember, my dear friend, you are not alone in this journey. I stand with you, ready to lend my support and share in whatever you need.

With the utmost affection,Seokmin

My dearest Seokmin,

Your letter reached me at a time when silence has settled heavily over the estate, wrapping around us like a shroud. It feels as though the laughter that once danced through these halls has been swallowed by a void, leaving behind a hushed emptiness. My mother, once so vibrant, now moves about with an air of resignation, her spirit dimmed as if she carries the weight of the world upon her shoulders. The joy that once bloomed within her seems to have withered, and even the flowers in the garden appear to droop, their colors muted in sympathy for our grief.

I often find myself worrying for Minghao. The new title of duke weighs upon him like a heavy cloak, and I fear that the responsibilities thrust upon him will change him in ways I cannot yet understand. I can only imagine the burden he feels, trying to uphold our father's legacy while grappling with the uncertainties of leadership. It frightens me to think of how this shift may alter our relationship, how he might feel compelled to step into a role that distances him from the brother I’ve always known. I fear I may lose him just as I have lost my father.

Yet, amid this uncertainty, your words bring me a flicker of comfort. The knowledge that you stand with me during this turbulent time is a balm for my spirit. I long for your return, for the laughter and warmth that you bring.

Until then, I hold your friendship close to my heart, a gentle reminder that even in the darkest of times, I am not alone.

With all my affection,Y/N

Age 17:

At the onset of spring, when Minghao and Seokmin return to the estate, the world feels subtly transformed. The air is perfumed with the scent of blooming flowers, yet there’s an unmistakable weight in the atmosphere, a quiet acknowledgment of the changes that accompany their new titles. As dukes, both acquire an aura of responsibility that overshadows the playful ease they once share.

The lighthearted teasing that characterizes your interactions is now less frequent, often replaced by a more thoughtful camaraderie. It’s as though their titles impose a certain decorum upon them, one that even the most mischievous of spirits cannot easily shake off. Their laughter, while still present, bears the faintest echo of seriousness that wasn’t there before.

Yet, despite this change, you find immense joy in their company, particularly when they engage in spirited sparring sessions in the training yard. As wooden swords clash and echo, it’s impossible not to feel a thrill at the sight of them—two young gentlemen, once boys, now embodying a gravity that demands respect even in their play.

The matches become a spectacle, each clash of wooden swords accompanied by shouts and laughter that echo through the estate. You perch on the sidelines, an amused spectator, as Seokmin and Minghao banter playfully between bouts. “You call that a strike?” Seokmin teases, deftly dodging your brother’s advance with a lightness that seems almost effortless. “I’ve seen more ferocity from a kitten!”

Minghao rolls his eyes, the corners of his mouth betraying a grin despite his best efforts to maintain an air of dignity. “One day, Seokmin, you shall learn that mocking your opponent is a perilous game.”

You perch on the sidelines, unable to stifle the laughter bubbling forth at their antics. Each exchange between them is a delightful dance, weaving a tapestry of shared history and unspoken affection. Yet, as you watch, you cannot help but feel a twinge of wistfulness; the exuberance of their banter now seems to emerge from a place tinged with nostalgia.

The sun dips low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the training yard; both young gentlemen wield their wooden swords with a fervor that sends a thrill through the onlookers. You remain at a distance, your heart pounding in rhythm with each clash of wood, an exhilaration mingled with unease coursing through you.

Seokmin, with his characteristic bravado, flashes a teasing grin as he engages your brother. “Come now, my lord! Surely you can do better than that!” The laughter in his voice rings like a bell, though you can’t help but feel a knot of apprehension tighten in your chest.

As the match continues, you find yourself transfixed by Seokmin’s agile movements, the way he dances about the training yard with a carefree spirit. However, just as you begin to relax, a delicate butterfly flits past, capturing Seokmin’s attention momentarily. It is in this fleeting distraction that your brother seizes his opportunity, lunging forward with surprising speed.

“Seokmin!” you cry out, the word escaping your lips before you can restrain it. Time seems to elongate as you watch, breathless, as Seokmin turns just in time to evade the wooden sword’s path. He stumbles slightly, regaining his balance as he casts a quick glance your way, surprise etched upon his handsome features.

With your heart racing, you dash to his side, adrenaline coursing through your veins. “Are you quite well?” The urgency in your voice is unmistakable, for the thought of his injury sends a chill through you.

“Indeed, I am unharmed,” he replies, though the forced joviality of his laugh belies the tension of the moment. “Merely caught off guard, I assure you.”

Yet your heart refuses to calm. “You cannot be so reckless! What if you had been injured?” The fervor of your concern envelops you, and you see a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes as he steps closer, the air between you thick with a burgeoning intimacy. That same foreign sensation – the one from years ago when he had brushed against you in the gardens – ignites within you, one you had tucked away and kept hidden, rearing its head in this moment of vulnerability.

“Thank you, Tulip, for your ever-present concern for my well-being,” he murmurs, his voice lowered as he meets your gaze, the world around you fading into an indistinct haze. Just then, Minghao loudly clears his throat, and Seokmin drops his eyes, a bashful blush appearing on the apples of his cheeks.

You step away, embarrassed, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

Minghao corners you in the gardens that night, the cool summer breeze brushing against your skin as you take a walk, seeking solace from the tempest of thoughts swirling in your mind. The encounter with Seokmin lingers like a gentle whisper, an unsettling mixture of warmth and confusion that dances at the edges of your consciousness, teasing you with emotions you struggle to understand.

“Sister,” he begins, his voice so soft that you nearly startle. In an instant, he presses a hand against your mouth, his finger raised in a quiet plea for silence. “It’s only me, Y/N. I fear you’ll wake the entire estate.”

“It’s your fault for skulking about the gardens like a common thief!” you whisper back, fiercely. “What on earth could possibly require such urgent discussion that you couldn’t grant me one night of peace?”

His expression grows serious, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “You must be careful, sister,” he admonishes, and in that moment, he seems less like your brother and more like the Duke of Somerset—tall, proud, and formidable. “There are whispers… about you and Seokmin.”

“Whispers? Whatever do you mean?” You search his face for clarification, anxiety bubbling within you.

Minghao shakes his head as if dismissing the very idea of this conversation. A wave of indignation washes over you, eager to burst forth. He may be only two years your elder, yet he still insists on treating you like a child. “Your debut into society draws near,” he continues, his voice measured and resolute. “You mustn’t jeopardize it.”

“But Minghao—” you begin, but he raises a hand, silencing you with a mere gesture.

“Listen. You know how these things unfold. A mere hint of impropriety could tarnish your reputation. I don’t want you to suffer from the kind of gossip that twists the truth.” His tone softens, revealing a hint of genuine concern that pierces through your indignation. “I only want what’s best for you.”

You meet his gaze, the weight of his words pressing down on you. “I am not a child anymore,” you protest, the tremor in your voice betraying a mixture of frustration and uncertainty. “I am capable of making my own choices.”

“Perhaps,” he replies, his eyes steady and unwavering. “But I have a responsibility to protect you, Y/N. I don’t wish to stifle your spirit, but you must grasp the implications of your actions.”

The night air grows thick with unspoken sentiments, and as the stars twinkle overhead like mischievous spectators, you grapple with the tumult in your heart. There’s something about Seokmin that sends ripples of confusion coursing through you, a fluttering sensation that stirs your chest whenever his name crosses your mind. You do not fully comprehend what it is, but it’s undeniably present—a flicker of something more, leaving you teetering on the precipice of feelings you are not yet ready to confront.

My dearest Seokmin,

As I sit here with this pen in hand, I find myself quite at a loss. The arrival of my debut looms on the horizon, and while I am certainly filled with anticipation, I must confess that trepidation dances in my chest, quite uninvited. The notion of standing before an audience of peers—well-bred and well-mannered—fills me with an unease I cannot quite articulate. Will my words tumble forth in a jumbled mess? Or worse, will they fall on deaf ears?

I cannot shake the dreadful thought that I may never find a match. What if I enter that grand ballroom, adorned in my finest gown, and am met with indifference? Will the charming suitors twirl past me, whisking away others while I stand, forgotten, on the periphery? The idea sends a shiver down my spine, as I fear I may spend the evening watching the festivities unfold without me.

As I consider the expectations that accompany my debut, I can’t help but reflect on how you and Minghao have gracefully embraced your new roles as dukes. You carry the weight of your responsibilities with such elegance, while I find myself yearning to flourish in a world that feels daunting. Will I, too, be able to navigate this landscape of expectation and propriety, or will I falter under its weight?

Forgive my ramblings, dear friend. I suppose I am merely hoping for reassurance, a kind word from you. Perhaps if I know you will be there—your presence a familiar balm—I might muster the courage to dance and revel in the splendor of the evening.

With warmest regards and hopeful heart,Your Tulip

My Dearest Tulip,

Your recent letter has landed in my hands like a most delightful spring breeze, though I must confess it carries with it a hint of unease that quite unnerves me. How is it that my steadfast friend, who has faced the world with such spirited determination, now frets over the prospects of the ballroom?

First and foremost, allow me to put your mind at ease. The mere thought of you standing in that grand ballroom, adorned in the finest gown, is enough to illuminate the dimmest of corners. Your charm will be as radiant as the most exquisite of chandeliers, drawing the gaze of all who are fortunate enough to cross your path. I assure you, the gentlemen will hardly be able to focus on anything—or anyone—else.

Now, I cannot let this opportunity pass without a bit of teasing – regarding your step upon my toes during our lessons – I daresay I must bring up a rather amusing memory. I cannot help but recall how you sent both Minghao and me reeling across the room, much like a pair of wayward marionettes! One can only hope that with age comes grace—or at the very least, a better sense of foot placement! If not, I shall be prepared to don the most resilient shoes in all of England.

Worry not, dear Tulip. I shall be by your side the entire season, if you shall have me (although, I am not entirely certain your dear brother will be entirely pleased by this idea).

Your most loyal servant,Seokmin

Dearest Sister,

As I sit at my desk, I cannot help but feel a mixture of pride and exasperation as I pen this letter. Our infrequent exchanges have become quite the tradition, have they not? I find it amusing that as your brother, I am often left to await your words while Seokmin is constantly regaled by your stories.

With your debut looming closer, I feel it is my solemn duty as both your brother and your Duke to remind you of the delicate nature of polite society. Your debut is not merely an occasion to don a gown and curtsy to the queen; it is a rite filled with expectations and decorum. I implore you to be mindful of the company you keep and the propriety that is expected of you as a young lady and the sister of the Duke. I have taken it upon myself to speak to Seokmin, warning him of the same – he has a habit of forgetting his own station in moments of levity.

While I know you must find these constraints stifling, know that the eyes of the ton will soon be upon you, not only assessing your beauty but also your character. You are the jewel of our family, and I trust you will shine brightly, even amidst these expectations.

Write to me when you can, dear sister, even if it is infrequent. Your musings are treasures to your dear elder brother, and I await them constantly.

With all my love, Minghao

Dearest Brother,

I say this with the utmost love and devotion:

Damn you.

(Please forgive my language, and please, do not show this letter to Mama. I fear her admonishments may never end if she hears of my vernacular)

I am acutely aware of the expectations that accompany my debut – how could I forget when both you and Mama loom over me like a pair of hawks? While I recognize your intentions, your words do little to alleviate my anxiety.

Your warning regarding Seokmin only serves to make me laugh. It is amusing, truly, to envision the Duke of Lancaster being chided by my brother on the virtues of propriety. I promise to keep my wits about me and to present myself with all the elegance expected of a young lady of my station (the sister of a Duke, no less!).

I will do my utmost to avoid a scandal – or at the very least, I shall ensure that you do not hear of it. I shall write again soon, if only to unleash more of my exasperation upon you.

Yours, in (implied) rebellion, Y/N (Sister of the Duke of Somerset)

Age 18:

On the eve of your debut, you find yourself seated on the swing in the garden of the Somerset townhome, the night cloaked in an almost palpable tension. The sounds of Mayfair filter through the stillness—a symphony of distant laughter, the soft clatter of carriages, and the occasional rustle of silk skirts—as the ton settles into slumber. The air feels electric, crackling with anticipation, as if the entire world is holding its breath, waiting for the events of the morrow to unfold.

You take a deep drag from the cigarette you swiped from Minghao’s rooms, the smoke spiraling into the night like a fleeting thought. With each inhale, you hope to drown out the anxious fluttering of your heart, a dissonant rhythm that accelerates at the mere thought of tomorrow’s debut.

“Why, Lady Xu Y/N, are you smoking?” The voice breaks through your reverie, causing you to sputter and cough, hastily attempting to conceal the cigarette behind your back. You turn to see Seokmin, leaning casually against the sturdy oak tree that secures the swing, his figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

His presence is both familiar and disarming, the boyish charm of his smile juxtaposed against the weight of his title. “No, Seokmin, I—” you stammer, flustered.

“Shove over,” he commands lightly, and before you can protest, he plucks the cigarette from your frozen grip, taking a deep, leisurely drag. The sight of him—so confident, so carefree—sets your heart racing in a way that both delights and terrifies you.

“What on earth are you doing here?” you ask incredulously, half-exasperated, half-amused.

“I was with your brother at White’s,” he replies, amusement dancing in his eyes. “It was my mistake to forget how little he can imbibe before devolving into an utter fool. I was merely making sure he returned home safely.” His tone shifts, curiosity sparkling in his gaze. “Are you excited for tomorrow?”

“Excited? Hardly,” you grumble, kicking at the scattered rocks beneath your feet. “What my heart truly desires is to run away—pack my things, flee to Paris, and open a quaint little bookstore. Perhaps live out my days as a spinster, surrounded by novels and solitude.”

Seokmin’s expression shifts, a shadow of understanding passing across his features. “We cannot always have what our hearts desire,” he says, his voice tinged with a hint of sorrow as he exhales a plume of smoke. “Sometimes, we must accept that we can find happiness in what we have, not in what could have been.”

You watch the smoke dance and dissipate into the night sky, thoughts swirling as restlessly as the tendrils of fog around you.

“And you?” you ask quietly, the question escaping before you can catch it. “What does your heart desire?”

“Desired,” he corrects, taking another deep drag. “I once dreamed of being a fencer, of dueling beneath the sun. But above all, I yearned to find love.”

Your heart stutters at his admission. His thigh brushes against yours, an electric touch that feels so scandalously intimate you can hardly breathe. You suddenly become acutely aware of the nightgown you wear, the thin fabric doing little to shield you from the heat radiating from his body. If Minghao were to catch you in this moment, you are certain he would demand that Seokmin either marry you on the spot or duel him for your honor.

The very thought sends a shiver down your spine—an improper thought that both terrifies and thrills you. You are a young lady, poised to make your debut, and here you are, perched so closely to an eligible duke, the expectations of the ton looming like a dark cloud. What would society say if they were to discover you in this clandestine moment? The whispers would be deafening, your reputation in tatters, and yet… the thrill of it, the danger, pulls at you like a siren's song.

“And you believe you shall never find it?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I am a Duke, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice so soft it barely pierces the night air. “Duty must come first. If there is any part of me left, which there rarely is, only then can I pursue love.”

The distance between you feels both impossibly vast and achingly close, the weight of his words pressing against you like an invisible force. You can see the vulnerability in his eyes, the unspoken longing that mirrors your own.

You hum, encouraging him to continue, yet the weight of his words presses down on your chest.

“But how fortunate am I,” he continues, his gaze piercing through the night like a beacon, “to have found such a remarkable friend who stands by me even as duty threatens to drown me where I stand.”

A friend. The word lingers between you, heavy and loaded. Is that truly all he sees you as? The realization sends your mind reeling, your heart racing in an entirely different way.

No, the trees whisper, urging you to reconsider.

Could it be…love?

That foreign sensation, long buried beneath layers of propriety and friendship, now unfurls within you, roots taking hold. You realize with a start that you have loved Seokmin, perhaps from that very first kiss on your hand all those years ago, long before you could articulate the feelings swirling in your heart.

Panic courses through you, and you leap up from the swing as if it has burned you. “It is late, Lord Lee. I must take my leave now,” you stammer, unable to meet his gaze. “I hope you find your way home safely.”

He reaches out, his hand brushing against your wrist, and your breath hitches at the contact. “Wait,” he says, his voice low, almost laced with concern. “Are you alright? You seem... distant.”

His eyes search yours, and you feel the weight of his gaze, an anchor that both comforts and terrifies you. Your pulse quickens, a frantic rhythm echoing in your ears. What would it mean to linger here a moment longer, to let the night wrap around you like a cocoon?

But all the books you’ve read offer no preparation for the heartache that comes with knowing he regards you as merely a friend. A friend, just like your brother. You are his friend, and the shattering realization settles in: he will never love you back.

“Tulip?” he adds softly, the word a whisper that brushes against your skin like the wind.

You swallow hard, every part of you aching to give in, to lean into the connection pulsing between you. But the truth looms like a storm cloud overhead, dark and inevitable.

You love Lord Lee Seokmin, Duke of Lancaster, but he will never love you.

And with that heavy knowledge weighing on your heart, you turn to leave, every step toward your room feeling like a betrayal to the emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

You don’t sleep at all, thoughts consumed by a boy you had once known and the man you now love.

Tagging: @kibs-and-bits @moondustmemories @shinwonderful @ivehypnosis @gwend0lyne @thestoryofana13

#seventeen fic recs #lee seokmin x reader

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pinkslipxox · 1 day ago

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Dream and Hope:

Summary: You and Billie dreaming about your family after love making 💕

Warnings: slight mentions of smut, mostly fluff 🥰

——————————————————————————

The warm afternoon sun filters gently through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. You and Billie are tangled together on the bed, both breathless and glistening with a light sheen of sweat from the heat of the moment. The air is thick with joy and anticipation, your hearts racing in unison. With the outside world a distant memory, you find comfort, and you gently mold your lips with Billie’s.

Billie pulls you close, her arms wrapping securely around you as you gaze into each other’s eyes, each heartbeat echoing the excitement in your souls. There’s a playful spark in her ocean blue eyes, and you can’t help but smile, feeling utterly cherished in this moment.

“Mama,” she whispers, a soft and tender endearment that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. The way she says it feels like a promise, a shared dream between the two of you, and it makes your heart swell with hope and longing.

You lean in, capturing her lips with yours in another sweet kiss that seems to melt away any lingering worries. Each moment feels electric. Billie’s fingers brush against your skin, igniting warmth as she deepens the kiss, pouring love into every movement. As the kiss deepens, Billie’s hand slides down to Y/N’s abdomen, where new life might one day blossom. It is yours and Billie’s biggest dream and hope, one that you can only imagine experiencing with your beloved wife.

As the kiss breaks, she trails soft, delicate kisses along your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You lean into her touch, letting out a soft sigh at the gentle affection. She is so sweet, so soft and nurturing, and you can’t help but feel an even deeper connection growing between you.

Billie’s kisses journey down to your abdomen, where she pauses as if sensing the love and potential that may one day take root there. “This is where our future will grow. Just imagine,” she murmurs, her breath warm against your skin, “our little one—so loved and cherished.”

Each word is a delicate caress, and you feel your heart practically burst with emotion. “I can see it,” you reply breathlessly, smiling at the thought of what the future could hold. “I can see them with you, singing and dancing.”

Billie looks up at you, her eyes sparkling with excitement, and you can’t help but reach down to cup her cheek. “You’re going to be the best mom,” she says, her tone serious yet filled with adoration. “I can’t wait to share that with you.”

Breathing in her sincerity, you pull her close again, your heart racing as your foreheads touch. In this warm cocoon of love, you both hold onto the blissful moment, allowing the world outside to fade away.

As you nestle into Billie’s embrace, the sound of your intertwined laughter fills the air, blending with the whispered dreams of tomorrow. You feel so lucky to be loved by someone as incredible as Billie. In her arms, you know that together, you can create a life filled with joy, laughter, and love.

With another gentle kiss, she leans in and whispers, “I love you, Y/N. And one day, we’ll be mamas together.” The weight of her words wraps around you like a warm blanket, grounding you in the promise of your shared future.

In this moment, as you hold each other tightly, you can almost feel the whispers of joy that are yet to come, and your heart is full of dreams blossoming in the warmth of Billie’s love.

#billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish fic #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish smut #billie eilish fanfic #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish blurb #billie eilish #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x fem!reader

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stylesluxx · 2 days ago

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all of the girls you loved before – a. hotchner

[warnings: none]

summary: in which y/n is grateful for aaron's experiences – inspired by all of the girls you loved before by taylor swift

word count: 773

main masterlist

You've heard the stories before, the whispered mentions of the women that had come before you. Each one left a mark on him, a trace you sometimes wondered if you could see in the way he moved, the way he held you when you felt his steady hands against your back. Aaron Hotchner didn't often talk about them, but in the quiet moments, their presence lingered like a ghost in the room, a history you couldn't touch but could feel.

It wasn't jealousy, exactly. It was more the weight of knowing you weren't his first love, that he had lived entire lifetimes before you. Maybe you'd catch him staring off into the distance, his jaw tight as memories flickered across his face. You never pried, though the questions sometimes bubbled at the back of your throat. He would have told you if he wanted to, you reminded yourself.

But tonight was different. Tonight, something between you shifted.

You were sitting together on the porch, the soft hum of autumn night air around you, the distant sounds of traffic on the street below a low murmur. The team was away on a case, but for once, he wasn't. He had stayed behind, citing exhaustion, though you knew it wasn't just about fatigue. He needed time. Space. And you were here for him, silently offering the support he rarely let himself ask for.

Aaron sipped his drink, his fingers grazing the glass as he looked out into the darkened sky. You followed his gaze, wondering where his mind had drifted this time. His silence wasn't unusual, but there was a tension tonight that made the air between you feel thicker than usual. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft, like he wasn't sure he was ready for the words.

"I don't think I've ever told you about Haley."

His ex-wife. You'd heard her name before, of course, but he rarely mentioned her. Even now, years after her death, the grief still hung in his eyes when he did. You turned slightly, giving him your full attention, heart tightening as you prepared yourself for whatever he needed to say.

"She was... everything to me. For a long time." He let out a breath, his thumb tracing the rim of his glass. "And when I lost her, I didn't think I could feel that way again. About anyone."

You didn't speak, just listened, knowing this wasn't something you could fix. This was something he had to let out, piece by piece.

"I wasn't looking for this, for us." His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world stopped turning. "But somehow, you're here."

He shifted, setting his drink aside and taking your hand in his. His fingers were warm against yours, grounding you as his gaze softened, the weight of years of pain and love swirling in his eyes.

"I used to think the past would always have this hold on me, that I'd never be able to let go of all the girls I loved before. But then I realized... they led me here. To you."

Your breath caught, the weight of his words pressing into your chest. You didn't need him to explain further. You knew what he meant—that every love, every loss, every heartbreak had shaped him into the man sitting beside you. And somehow, through all of it, he had found his way to you.

He squeezed your hand, a silent reassurance that he was here, with you, now.

"I don't regret any of it," he continued, his voice quieter now. "Because without it, I wouldn't have you. And that's something I wouldn't trade for anything."

The tears welled in your eyes before you could stop them, the emotion of his confession wrapping around your heart. You'd always known there was a part of him that would forever belong to the past, to Haley, to the life he had before. But now, hearing him say it, you realized it wasn't about competing with those memories. It was about understanding that you were part of his story now, a chapter he hadn't expected but cherished all the same.

You leaned in, resting your head on his shoulder as he pulled you closer, the unspoken understanding settling between you. There was no need for more words, not tonight. You both knew that love wasn't about erasing the past—it was about accepting it, embracing it, and realizing that every step along the way had led to this moment.

And in that moment, you realized something too.

You were glad for all the girls he loved before, because without them, without everything he had been through, you might never have found your way to him.

And now that you had, you weren't going to let go.

[AN: oh hey... I think I'm going to do febuwhump to get out of my writing slump. I'll keep you guys updated. I also have a ko-fi account now??? no pressure but it's link in my navigation and here! and of course... my taglist. lmk your thoughts. love you byeee]

#stylesluxx #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotcher fluff #aaron hotchner #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader

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creatur3featur3 · 11 hours ago

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ੈ✩The First Snow✩ੈ

word count: 1.7k

A/N: just a short one for today, i'm definitely enjoying sitting down and drinking my hot chocolate :)

you cannot convince this song isn't SR's brain around Sevika.

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

You had never seen snow, never felt the cold sensation of it landing on your hand, catching a snowflake or two on your tongue— you wanted to ever since you were little, that much you knew.

The biting cold woke you before the light did, your breath fogging the air as you sat up, pulling the threadbare blanket tighter around yourself. The little hideout you called home offered some shelter from the wind, but not from the sharp chill that seemed to seep into your very bones.

As you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, a strange movement caught your attention just beyond the window. You squinted, leaning forward, and froze.

There it was.

A single snowflake, delicate and intricate, drifting lazily through the air before landing on the cracked glass of the window.

You blinked, your breath hitching as you stared at the tiny, icy speck. Snow. Real snow. You’d heard about it, seen pictures in books scavenged from the surface, but you’d never experienced it yourself. Not down here, where the grime and smoke of the Undercity seemed to drown out everything pure.

Slowly, you stood and shuffled closer, hesitant as if the snow might vanish if you moved too quickly. Another flake floated down, and your eyes widened, following its path as it landed just outside the window.

Without thinking, you reached out, hand trembling as you pressed it against the cool pane of glass. The cold stung, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you opened the window, letting the icy air rush in as the snowflakes began to fall more steadily.

The first one landed on your hand, melting almost instantly. The chill made you shiver, but you didn’t flinch—at least, not until another flake drifted closer to your face.

Startled, you jerked back, your heart racing as if it had been a wasp instead of harmless snow. You blinked down at your hand, where the remnants of the first flake had left a faint wet spot, and frowned.

“Get it together,” you muttered to yourself, feeling ridiculous for being afraid of something so small, so fragile.

But when the next flake floated toward you, you stayed still, watching as it landed softly on your outstretched palm. It lingered for a moment before disappearing, leaving behind a faint, cold kiss on your skin.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, a soft laugh escaping your lips as more flakes began to fall, their gentle descent painting the Undercity in fleeting white specks.

For a moment, you forgot about the cold, the hunger, the weight of survival. All that mattered was the quiet, magical dance of the snow.

You tilted your head back, sticking out your tongue like you’d seen in stories, and grinned when a snowflake landed on it, cold and fleeting.

It wasn’t much, but it was something. Something pure, something new, something that felt like a small piece of wonder in a world that rarely gave you anything at all.

The streets of the Undercity looked… different. The grime and ash were still there, clinging stubbornly to every surface, but the thin dusting of snow added an almost surreal softness to the harsh edges. You wandered slowly, your breath fogging in the air as you watched kids dart through the streets, laughing and shrieking as they played in the snow.

Some were trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues, while others attempted to gather enough to form lopsided balls. It was chaos, but for once, it was the good kind—the kind that didn’t make your chest tighten with worry.

A faint smile tugged at your lips as you leaned against a wall, watching them. It was strange, seeing joy in a place that so often felt like it had none to give.

And then you saw her.

Sevika.

She stood off to the side, her broad frame impossible to miss even through the swirling snow. She wasn’t watching the kids, or the snow, or much of anything, really. Her hands were stuffed into her pockets, her shoulders slightly hunched against the cold as she leaned against a rusted lamppost.

Of course, she looked unimpressed.

You huffed softly, shaking your head as you made your way toward her, your boots crunching against the thin layer of snow underfoot. “What, no love for the first snow?” you teased lightly as you approached.

Her gaze flicked to you, one brow arching slightly. “It’s just frozen water,” she said flatly, her breath visible in the cold air.

You rolled your eyes, stopping a few feet away from her. “Come on, even you have to admit it’s a little magical.”

“Magical?” Sevika repeated, her tone dripping with skepticism.

“Yes, magical,” you insisted, spreading your arms to gesture at the falling flakes. “Look around! The kids are actually happy for once, the streets don’t look like complete shit, and—” you paused, grinning mischievously, “—you look like you’re about two seconds away from cracking a smile.”

She snorted, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. “Don’t push it.”

You shrugged, leaning against the lamppost next to her. “Fine, but you can’t tell me this doesn’t remind you of anything. Childhood? A good memory? Anything?”

Sevika was quiet for a moment, her gaze fixed on the snow-covered ground. “I don’t really… think about that stuff,” she admitted, her voice quieter than usual.

You glanced at her, surprised by the uncharacteristic vulnerability in her tone. “Well,” you said after a moment, your voice softer now, “maybe it’s time you start.”

Sevika’s eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, you thought she might snap at you or brush you off like she usually did. But instead, she just sighed, her breath visible in the cold air.

“Maybe,” she murmured, her gaze drifting back to the snow as a faint smile ghosted across her lips.

You grinned, nudging her shoulder lightly. “See? Told you it was magical.”

She shook her head, the smirk returning as she muttered, “You’re impossible.”

But she didn’t move away, and for a moment, the two of you stood there together, watching as the snow continued to fall, painting the Undercity in fleeting moments of quiet beauty.

"Come on, Sevika!" you urged, your laughter spilling into the chilly air as you reached out and grabbed her flesh hand without hesitation.

She blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden contact, but before she could protest, you were already tugging her further into the snow-covered street.

“Seriously?” Sevika muttered, but her voice lacked its usual edge, and she made no real effort to pull away.

“Yes, seriously,” you shot back, glancing over your shoulder with a grin. “You’re not just going to stand there like a grumpy statue all day.”

The snow fell gently around you both, catching in your hair and melting against your flushed skin. You couldn’t stop laughing softly as you led her forward, your boots crunching in the thin layer of snow.

Sevika, for her part, let herself be pulled along, her metal arm hanging at her side while her flesh hand remained loosely clasped in yours. The sight of her—this big, fearsome woman allowing herself to be dragged into something so… childlike—made your chest feel tight in the best way.

You finally came to a stop in the middle of the street, turning to face her with a bright smile. The snow clung to her hair, the strands darker and shinier against the white flecks. Her expression was unreadable, but her gaze was steady, locked onto you like she was trying to figure you out.

Your heart thudded against your ribs, the cold air biting at your skin doing nothing to temper the warmth spreading across your cheeks. It wasn’t the snow or the laughter—it was her. It was the fact that she was here, with you, letting you share this moment with her.

“I think you’re enjoying this more than you’re willing to admit,” you teased, your voice softer now, almost tentative.

She snorted, shaking her head. “You’re lucky I didn’t just walk away.”

“You could’ve,” you pointed out, a small smile playing at your lips. “But you didn’t.”

Sevika’s gaze lingered on you, something unspoken passing between the two of you as the snow continued to fall. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you admitted with a shrug, still holding her hand. “But it’s worth it.”

Her lips twitched, as though she were fighting a smile, and you swore you caught the faintest hint of warmth in her eyes. She didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t pull her hand away, either.

You couldn’t help yourself. For a moment, you just stood there, staring at her. The way the snow fell onto her broad shoulders and clung to her short hair made her look softer somehow—less like the untouchable force you’d always seen her as and more like… Sevika. Just Sevika.

Her eyes caught yours, sharp and questioning, and you felt your chest tighten. She stared back, her brows furrowing slightly like she was trying to figure out what was running through your head.

And then she let out a low growl of frustration. “What the hell are you staring at?”

Before you could answer, Sevika shoved you—not hard, but firm enough to send you stumbling back into the snow. You let out a startled yelp, your arms flailing as you hit the cold ground with a muted thud.

“Sevika!” you protested, looking up at her with wide eyes as the chill from the snow seeped into your clothes.

She crossed her arms, her smirk unmistakable. “You were getting weird. Had to snap you out of it.”

“I wasn’t getting weird!” you argued, though the heat rising to your face betrayed you.

“Sure you weren’t,” she drawled, her tone laced with amusement as she glanced down at you.

You glared up at her, brushing snow off your sleeves. “You didn’t have to throw me, you know.”

“Didn’t have to, but it worked, didn’t it?” Sevika replied, raising an eyebrow.

You narrowed your eyes at her, plotting your revenge as you slowly gathered a handful of snow behind your back. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”

Her smirk faltered slightly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Don’t even think about it.”

But before she could react, you hurled the snowball at her, hitting her square in the chest. Sevika froze, looking down at the patch of snow clinging to her coat before her gaze snapped back to you.

“Oh, you’re dead,” she growled, bending down to scoop up her own handful of snow.

You yelped, scrambling to your feet as she lobbed a snowball your way. Laughter filled the air as you ducked and dodged, the icy cold forgotten in the chaos of your impromptu snowball fight.

#fanfic #street rat sevika fic #sevika x reader #queer #street rat #sevika #sevika arcane #i'm trying my best #hooray snow!#Spotify

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emeraldzzombie · 2 days ago

Text

Through the Ashes Ellie williamsXfem reader

The wind howled through the cracked windows of the abandoned cabin, the only sound besides the occasional groan of the building settling into the earth. The air smelled faintly of mildew and burnt wood, remnants of some long-forgotten fire, but the cabin still provided a sense of shelter amidst the chaos outside. Ellie sat by the fire, sharpening her knife with a practiced, methodical motion. Her brow furrowed, the tension in her body almost palpable. She could hear Y/N moving around the cabin, rummaging through old cabinets and drawers, searching for supplies.

Ellie couldn’t help but glance up every so often, watching Y/N's graceful movements. Her girlfriend was always so determined, always so grounded — a sharp contrast to Ellie’s wild energy. Y/N had a way of making the harsh world feel like something they could face together, like there was still something worth holding onto in the midst of all the destruction.

"How long do you think we can stay here?" Y/N asked from across the room, her voice calm but carrying an underlying edge of concern. She walked toward Ellie, her hand lightly tracing the jagged edges of an old bookshelf. "This place feels... temporary. I don’t know if we can trust it."

Ellie didn’t respond immediately. She continued to run the blade across the whetstone, the rhythmic scrape of metal on stone filling the silence. The fire crackled beside her, casting dancing shadows against the walls. After a few moments, she set the knife down and looked up at Y/N.

"As long as we need to," Ellie said quietly, her voice almost too soft for the harsh world they inhabited. "But we shouldn’t stay too long. The clickers won’t stay away forever, and there’s a town a few miles east. It’s risky, but we’ll make it."

Y/N nodded, her face lined with worry. It wasn’t fear; it was a quiet understanding that their lives were forever in a state of uncertainty. But that didn’t stop her from wanting to protect the only thing she had left �� Ellie.

There was something about the way Ellie looked at her, though. Something that made Y/N feel like the rest of the world could disappear, and she would still have her. The weight of it was like an anchor, dragging her deep into a world where it was just the two of them, trying to survive together.

Y/N took a deep breath, moving closer to Ellie. As she approached, she caught Ellie’s eyes, catching the subtle shift — the softening of her expression, the gentle way her lips curled up at the corners. It made Y/N’s heart beat a little faster.

"What?" Ellie asked, raising an eyebrow. She knew exactly what was going on in Y/N’s head.

"You look... different," Y/N teased, smiling despite the seriousness of their situation. "Like you’re not the same person you were when I first met you."

Ellie chuckled and leaned back against the wall. "Yeah? What’s different?"

Y/N stepped closer, her heart thumping louder with each step, and softly ran her hand down the side of Ellie’s arm. "You’re... more."

Ellie’s expression faltered for a moment, the teasing smirk fading into something more serious. Her eyes softened, and she leaned in slightly, just enough to close the gap between them. "More of what?" she asked, her voice low, but not unkind.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, the warmth of Ellie’s body so close to hers. The air between them crackled with unspoken words, a quiet tension that neither of them had ever quite addressed fully. They’d been through so much together — the horrors of this world, the loss of friends, of family, of innocence — and yet here they were, still fighting, still breathing, still holding onto each other.

"More... real," Y/N whispered, brushing her thumb over Ellie’s wrist. "You’ve always been this... fire, this force of nature. But now, you’re more than that. You’re someone I can actually picture a future with. Someone I want to survive for."

Ellie’s gaze softened, and for a brief moment, she didn’t say anything. Her throat tightened, emotions swirling behind her usually confident exterior. They had never really talked about this — about how they felt, about what they meant to each other. They didn’t have time for conversations like this. The world was too dangerous, too broken. But now, in this cabin, with the fire crackling and the world outside as dark and cold as it was, it felt like they were finally allowed to say what had been left unsaid for so long.

Ellie stepped closer, her lips brushing softly against Y/N’s ear. "You make me feel like I could survive anything," she whispered, her breath warm against Y/N's skin. "Like maybe there’s something worth fighting for."

Y/N shivered, a spark of desire lighting up inside her at the intensity of Ellie’s words. She hadn’t expected it — hadn’t expected to hear such vulnerability from her, not in this world. But here they were, standing in the ashes of everything they had known, and Ellie was laying it all out, in the simplest, most beautiful way.

Without another word, Ellie’s lips found Y/N’s in a kiss. It was soft, tentative at first, as though they were both testing the waters. But then Ellie deepened the kiss, pulling Y/N closer, her hands running along Y/N’s sides, memorizing the feel of her in a way that sent shivers down Y/N's spine. She could feel the heat radiating from Ellie, the hunger for something more than survival, something more than the fight to stay alive.

Y/N’s hands moved to Ellie’s shoulders, her fingers digging into the fabric of her jacket, pulling her even closer, as though afraid the moment would slip away if she didn’t hold on tight enough.

When they pulled away, their breath ragged and hearts racing, the silence that followed felt... different. It wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t full of the unspoken fears that lingered in the back of their minds. It was a quiet, shared understanding that they had something worth holding onto in this cruel world.

"I think I’m starting to understand," Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why we keep going. Why we keep fighting."

Ellie smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of Y/N’s face, her touch tender and careful. "Yeah? And why’s that?"

"Because we have each other," Y/N replied softly. "And that’s enough. At least, for now."

Ellie nodded, her gaze fixed on Y/N’s lips for a moment before meeting her eyes again. "You’re right," she agreed. "It’s enough. For now, it is."

For a long while, they simply stood there, their foreheads resting together, breathing in sync, letting the quiet of the cabin surround them. The world outside — the clickers, the dangers of the unknown — all felt distant for the first time in a long while. All that mattered was that, together, they could face whatever came next.

Ellie eventually pulled away, looking at Y/N with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "You know, I think we deserve a bit more than just a kiss after everything we’ve been through."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile on her lips. "Oh? And what exactly do you have in mind?"

Ellie leaned in again, her lips brushing against Y/N’s cheek, before she pulled back with a wicked grin. "I think it’s time we make this night last a little longer."

And with that, the two of them moved toward the bed in the corner of the cabin, Ellie laying Y/N softly on the bed slowly taking her pants off only to then crawl on top of her the flames of the fire casting a warm glow on their skin, as they let themselves forget, if only for a moment, the weight of the world outside.

#smut #ellie williams #ellie willams x reader #ellie williams x you #tlou smut #ellie williams x female reader #tlou fanfiction #ellie smut #ellie williams smut

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duhshereadz · 3 hours ago

Text

A revision of Ekko and Jinx’s ending because I think we all know they deserved to be together:

Ekko stood amidst the ruins of what once was, the matchstick trembling in his fingers. He stared at the paper—a ghost of the girl he used to know, the girl he had lost. Jinx. Gone. He’d told himself he’d moved on, but it was a lie. He hadn’t. He couldn’t.

The flame consumed the edge of the paper, curling it inward. The drawing burned slowly, and for a moment, it felt like everything burned with it—his memories, his hope, his guilt.

As the embers died and he let the ashes drift from his palm, a voice, soft and unnervingly familiar, pierced the stillness.

"That’s not how you should say goodbye to someone."

Ekko froze, his breath catching. His blood turned to ice, then fire, as he whirled around. She stood there, bathed in the dim light of the city’s chaos, her hair wild and vivid, her expression caught somewhere between a smirk and sorrow.

“Jinx?” he breathed, disbelief cracking his voice.

Her eyes, that eerie, unnatural pink, softened for just a second. “The one and only.”

For a moment, he could only stare, his heart pounding against his ribs. Every emotion he’d buried clawed its way to the surface—grief, rage, joy, confusion. He stepped closer, his hands clenching and unclenching. “You’re alive?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Vi said—she told me you were dead.”

“She needed to think that,” Jinx replied, her voice quiet, almost fragile. “It had to stay that way. For her. For everyone.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Ekko snapped, anger flashing in his eyes. “She thinks she failed you! She thinks you’re gone because of her. Hell, I—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair. “You let us believe you were dead? Why?”

Jinx’s gaze flickered, her smile fading. “Because I couldn’t stay. Not after everything. Not after Silco. Powder died a long time ago, Ekko. And Jinx... Jinx doesn’t fit in their world. She never did.”

“That’s bullshit!” Ekko shot back, his voice breaking. “You could’ve come back. We would’ve found a way.”

She shook her head, her laugh bitter and sharp. “No, you wouldn’t. You all deserve to be happy. Vi, Cait, you... You deserve a future without me screwing it up.” Her voice wavered as she added, “You’re better without me.”

Ekko stared at her, his chest tightening. “You think disappearing fixes anything? You think leaving makes it hurt less? You don’t get to decide that for us, Jinx!”

Her breath hitched, and for a second, the mask cracked. “I had to. Don’t you get it? I destroy everything I touch. Vi... Silco... even you, Ekko. The last thing I wanted was to ruin you too.”

“You didn’t ruin me,” he said, his voice dropping, softer now. “You’re not a bomb waiting to go off, Jinx. You’re—you’re just hurt. And maybe we all failed you, but that doesn’t mean you had to run.”

The words hung heavy between them, both of them locked in the weight of their shared history. She shifted uncomfortably, wrapping her arms around herself like she was bracing for impact. “I didn’t run. I left so you wouldn’t have to watch me fall apart.”

Ekko stepped closer, his voice a raw whisper. “I would’ve stayed. I would’ve fought for you. I—I still would.”

Jinx’s eyes flickered up to meet his, something trembling and uncertain in her gaze. “You’re an idiot, Ekko.”

“Yeah,” he said, his lips quirking into a sad smile. “Guess I always was when it came to you.”

She looked down, her voice cracking. “You shouldn’t have to carry me anymore.”

“I’m not letting you go,” Ekko said firmly. “Not again.”

For a moment, she didn’t move, didn’t speak. And then, slowly, her arms dropped to her sides, and she stepped forward, closing the space between them. Ekko felt her hands curl into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. He wrapped his arms around her instinctively, holding her tight, like if he let go, she’d vanish all over again.

“I missed you,” she whispered into his shoulder. “More than anything.”

He swallowed hard, his voice shaking. “You don’t get to say that and walk away again, Jinx. You don’t.”

She pulled back, just enough to look at him, her fingers brushing his cheek. “I can’t stay here, Ekko. Not in Zaun. Not with everything I’ve done.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

Her eyes widened, panic flickering across her face. “Ekko—no. This is my mess.”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted, his voice steady. “I’m not losing you again. Wherever you’re going, I’m going too.”

Jinx hesitated, her breath hitching. For once, the chaos in her eyes seemed to still. “You’d really leave everything behind? The Firelights? Zaun?”

“You’re worth it,” he said simply.

For a moment, all she could do was stare at him. And then, slowly, her lips quirked into a fragile smile, and she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his.

“You’re so stupid, Little Man,” she murmured.

“And you’re still impossible,” he replied, a faint chuckle breaking through the tension.

She kissed him then, fierce and messy and desperate, like it was both a promise and an apology. When they broke apart, her hand lingered on his cheek, her thumb brushing his skin.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s go.”

And together, they turned toward the shadows, leaving the ruins of their past behind.

#arcane #timebomb #jinx arcane #ekko arcane #jinx x ekko #jinx league of legends #ekko league of legends #vi arcane #jinx and vi #alternative ending

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sikyulioness · 2 days ago

Note

HELLO! Can you make a fic where Jinwoo finally meets fem reader that she's the first player before him, they both met once where jinwoo used to be weak but then she saved his life by using an green crystal that healed before shushing him as a secret then pinched his nose lol (she was still a player that time). After that they never see each other again or so they both thought. Pretty much fem reader had changed after leveling up like Jinwoo.

✨Here you go hope you like it✨

My Secret Savior

------- ------

---

The streets of Seoul had changed drastically over the years. Skyscrapers now gleamed under the sun, a reminder of humanity’s ability to rebuild and move forward. And yet, for Sung Jinwoo, one thing remained the same: the past. The memories of his days as the weakest Hunter, before he became the towering figure he was now, never seemed to fade.

It was a time he thought he had left behind—the memory of his weakness, the Dungeon, and the pain that followed. But one memory, one fleeting moment, stood out from the rest. It was something he couldn't quite shake off. The woman with the green crystal. Her face was vague, but her actions were etched into his mind as if they happened yesterday.

---

It was a bitterly cold day when it happened. Jinwoo had been trudging along the side streets, weak and desperate. After surviving the Double Dungeon, he was left with barely any strength, his body battered and drained. He stumbled into an alleyway, feeling the weight of his failure pressing down on him. But before he could fall to his knees, a soft voice cut through the air, gentle yet commanding.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He looked up, barely able to focus, and saw her—a woman, seemingly unbothered by the dangers of the world. She was holding a strange green crystal, its glow bright and soothing in the darkness.

“I… I don’t know,” Jinwoo muttered, his voice trembling. He had never felt so helpless in his life.

She crouched beside him, her fingers brushing against his forehead. He flinched at her touch, but there was something about her calm presence that made him feel safe, even in his weakened state.

“I can help,” she said, her eyes kind but firm. “But you have to keep it a secret. No one can know about this.”

Before Jinwoo could respond, she pressed the crystal against his chest. The warmth spread quickly, easing the ache in his body, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a sense of relief. The exhaustion that had weighed him down began to lift.

“Shush,” she whispered, her finger pressed to his lips. “It’s a secret, okay? Don’t go telling anyone.”

He nodded, unable to say anything as the green light continued to heal him. Her voice was soft, comforting, like a lullaby he didn’t want to forget.

And then, just as she finished healing him, she leaned in, her hand lightly pinching his nose, her lips curling into a playful smile. "You're lucky I found you," she said, her tone lighthearted. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

Jinwoo, still reeling from the shock of what had just happened, nodded again, his heart racing. But when he opened his mouth to thank her, she was already gone—vanished into the city as if she had never been there at all.

---

Years passed, and Jinwoo grew stronger, becoming a Hunter that even the strongest feared. But no matter how much he leveled up, no matter how much he changed, he couldn't forget the woman with the green crystal. Who was she? What was she doing that night? Why did she help him?

And then, one fateful day, their paths crossed again.

It was at a high-stakes raid, a dungeon so dangerous that even the most experienced Hunters hesitated to step foot inside. Jinwoo stood at the front, his aura commanding respect, his eyes scanning the surroundings with the precision of someone who had seen it all. He could sense the tension in the air—the dungeon was about to collapse, and there was no time for hesitation.

As the team prepared to enter, a shadow moved in the corner of his vision. A familiar figure stepped forward, her silhouette sharp and unwavering. She wore a hood, her face obscured, but Jinwoo could tell. It was her.

His heart skipped a beat as recognition hit him like a wave. The woman. The green crystal. The playful pinch. Everything about her felt like a memory he couldn’t erase.

She took her place at the front, her presence commanding as much attention as his. But instead of the frail, almost ethereal figure he remembered, she was now a force to be reckoned with. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto his.

“Are you lost?” she asked, her voice no longer soft, but strong, imbued with the confidence of someone who had lived through countless battles.

Jinwoo's mouth went dry. "You," he whispered, not quite believing what he was seeing. "You’re... the one who saved me."

She tilted her head, as if considering him for the first time. "I thought you'd recognize me sooner. But I suppose you’ve changed a lot too, Sung Jinwoo."

He was stunned. Her tone, though familiar, carried an edge of mystery, and he realized how much she had changed in all these years. The woman he once knew had become something far more dangerous, just like him.

"I... never expected to see you again," Jinwoo said, his voice filled with a mix of disbelief and awe. "You—how did you—"

"I leveled up," she interrupted, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "Just like you. I’ve been watching you, Jinwoo. You’re not the only one who’s changed."

For a moment, they stood there, the weight of their past hanging in the air between them. Jinwoo wanted to ask so many questions—about the green crystal, about who she was, about what had happened in the years they were apart—but he couldn’t. There was something about her presence that made him hesitant, like he wasn’t sure whether he could truly handle the answers.

"I’ve been waiting for the right moment," she said, breaking the silence. "And now, it looks like that moment has come."

Jinwoo’s heart raced. "What do you mean?"

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she gave him a soft look, one that felt strangely warm despite the harshness of their surroundings. "I’m here to help you. But this time, it’s not just about you. It’s about both of us. We have a lot to learn from each other."

Jinwoo’s thoughts were a whirlwind. The woman he had once thought of as a fleeting memory was now here, standing before him, offering him something far more valuable than answers—partnership, understanding, and maybe even more.

Without thinking, he reached out, his hand brushing hers, and she smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made his heart flutter. He realized, in that moment, that everything had changed. And somehow, it had led him back to her.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he said quietly.

She nodded, her expression softening. “Me too.”

And for the first time, Jinwoo felt like he was no longer alone. The woman with the green crystal—his savior, his mystery—was no longer a fleeting memory. She was right there beside him, ready to face whatever came next.

---

End.

#Sung jin woo #shadow #dungeon #fluff #reader #y/n #x #sung jinwoo #solo leveling #one shot

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pascalhowlett · 3 days ago

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Ethereal Chapter 3

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for all of the love and support on Ethereal so far! If you would like to read this on A03, you can find that here! Things are finally going to start moving a little this chapter. :)

Warnings: Mentions of r*pe, implied r*pe, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, smut

Summary: After the Roman Empire takes over Numidia, Cecilia is purchased by Emperor Geta as a pawn in his attempts to take over Rome. What will happen when she meets General Marcus Acacius, the soldier who was responsible for the death of her lover, Atticus Claudius?

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Original Female Character

This is Chapter 3! Find the rest of the chapters on my Tumblr here!

Word Count: 3k

General Acacius took Cecilia back to the palace, leading her through winding corridors until they reached a discreet alcove hidden behind a thick stone wall. A small, almost imperceptible gap revealed a hidden door. It was dark and dimly lit within.

The air there was cooler, tinged with the scent of aged wood and damp stone, a stark contrast to the warmth of the main hall. Soft, muted light filtered in from a single narrow window high up on the far wall, its panes obscured by thick ivy that grew wild and untamed, casting shifting patterns of shadow across the floor. The light wasn’t harsh, but gentle, as though it respected the privacy of this hidden corner.

The alcove’s stone walls, worn smooth by centuries of neglect, were lined with shelves, some holding dust-covered books, others bare except for the occasional forgotten object—an old sword, a tarnished goblet, a broken shield. On the far side, a wooden bench sat against the wall. The bench, though simple, was worn from years of use. It was a place meant for solitude, for reflection, and perhaps even for an escape.

It was quiet, almost sacred, as if it had been forgotten by all but the stone itself. There was no sound here except the occasional rustle of the ivy outside brushing against the window. If you listened closely, sometimes you could hear the soft murmur of distant voices from the main hall.

It was a sanctuary of sorts, hidden from view, a place for secrets, for whispered conversations, or simply a refuge for one who needed a moment of peace away from the weight of the world. The alcove seemed to hold its breath, offering a stillness that stood in stark contrast to the ever-moving world beyond its walls.

“What is this place?” Cecilia asked Acacius in disbelief. Not only was this alcove a safe spot from the threats outside, but it was a small armory, stocked with weapons from swords, daggers, and crossbows to even rations of food and water.

“It is a safe place, unknown to the emperors,” Acacius explained, “a refuge of sorts. This… this is where I gather, train, rest, and try to come up with plans.”

Cecilia's eyes widened. "And you," she said, “you discovered this place?”

Acacius nodded, his gaze fixed on the shadows that danced in the flickering torchlight. "I have kept it hidden for years," he admitted, "I believe it was built by the previous emperor. It’s quiet, a place I come to…escape. ”

“I do not recommend escaping with your thoughts,” Cecilia said, running her hand over the stone wall, “especially not with what you have witnessed as a seasoned General.”

Acacius looked at her, a flicker of something akin to gratitude passing through his eyes. "Perhaps you are right," he conceded, a weary sigh escaping his lips. "Maybe it is time to share this burden."

“Acacius,” she said, begging him, “I need to know more about your connection to Atticus. I must know why I am here and how you know him .”

Acacius looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of sympathy and passion. "You are here," he said, his voice low and grave, "because of Atticus."

"What do you mean?" she whispered, her heart pounding.

Acacius hesitated, his gaze now fixed on her.. "The prophecy," he began, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper, "it speaks of a time of great darkness, a time when the Empire will crumble from within."

He paused, his eyes searching her face for some sort of emotion. "Atticus believed in this prophecy. He saw the signs, the cracks in the foundation of this empire before he fled to Numidia. He believed in the people, in their ability to rise up and fight for freedom."

"And he believed in me?" she asked, "but how would he know I would make it here? Let alone be chosen to wed Emperor Geta?"

Acacius's eyes hardened. "Geta's marriage to you was part of Atticus' plan."

Cecilia gasped, her blood running cold. "What do you mean?" she whispered, fear gripping her. How could Atticus put her through such trauma? Was he ever made aware of the consequences, the pain she had suffered with no warning?

Acacius looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of grief and pure confusion. "Atticus believed that by marrying Geta or Caracalla, you would be able to infiltrate the heart of the Empire, to gain their trust, and ultimately bring them both down from within."

"But how did he know the lenos would choose me out of all the other women at the brothel? " Cecilia asked, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and disbelief. "They were far prettier than me, much kinder, and more willing…"

Acacius's eyes met hers. "The lenos are my former soldiers," he said, firmly, "They were made aware of this plan and given the gold to purchase you far before you even set foot on Roman territory."

The realization that her being, her very existence, had been manipulated was unbearable. Atticus, her beloved Atticus, had sacrificed himself to ensure her safety. But, he also had signed her up for a cause bigger than life.

"I do not like this," she said, her voice rising in anger. "Why are men toying with my fate? A fate I was not even aware of?"

Acacius reached out, his hand gently resting on her arm. "Believe me, Cecilia," he said, his voice laced with a sincere apology, "this was not done lightly. Atticus would never have wanted to see you hurt.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. "He sacrificed himself," she whispered, her voice choking with emotion. "He knew what would happen. He knew your army was coming to attack, didn’t he? He knew he was going to die?”

"He knew, and he knew the risks," Acacius said, "But he also knew that the fate of the Empire could rest on your shoulders."

Cecilia sat down abruptly, the weight of his words crashing down on her. She thought this was a nightmare, but it was a plan. A carefully orchestrated plan, all created and developed in the hands of silly men.

“He believed in you, Cecilia," Acacius added , "He believed in your strength. He believed you could be the one to lead us."

“What if I do not want this? What if I want to be left alone?” she asked.

Acacius regarded her with a mixture of sympathy and unwavering resolve. "You may not want this now," he acknowledged, "but I believe, deep down, you will. Atticus saw something in you, something special."

“Atticus is a liar!” she yelled, “a dirty fool who used me!”

Acacius was taken aback by the ferocity of her outburst. He had not expected this reaction. "Cecilia," he began, his voice calm but firm as he tried to quiet her, "I understand your anger, but…"

"Understand?" she scoffed. "How can you possibly understand? He was my love, my life! And used me, he used his death to manipulate me!"

Acacius reached out to touch her arm, but she flinched away, her eyes wide with panic. He realized that he had misspoken, that his attempt to comfort her had only served to further alienate her.

“I hate him!" she screamed, pacing around the small room, her fists clenched. "I hate him! I don't care what he wanted! We were happy." Tears streamed down her face, hot and angry. "We were planning our future, a life together, away from this… this madness. Or at least I thought...”

She crashed into his chest, sobbing violently, her body wracked with grief and anger. "I hate him!" she repeated, burying her face in Acacius’ chest. The only thing grounding her was his scent, a sweet musk that filled her nose.

Acacius held her close, his arms wrapping around her protectively. He said nothing, simply allowing her to release the torrent of her emotions. He understood the depth of her pain, the raw, unfiltered grief that consumed her in this moment of shock.

As he held her, a strange comfort settled over him. He had always admired Atticus, his courage, his compassion, his unwavering belief in justice. Now, holding Cecilia in his arms, he felt a strange kinship with the man. He felt the weight and the responsibility to protect her.

He looked down at her, his gaze lingering on her tear-stained face. Cecilia, in her grief, was more beautiful than ever. Her spirit, though wounded, remained unbroken. He knew, with a certainty that surprised even himself, that he would do anything to protect her, to help her fulfill the destiny that had been thrust upon her.

He gently stroked her hair, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of her cheek. "Cecilia," he whispered in a desperate attempt to calm her, “I will help you through this. You are not alone.”

Cecilia looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed. "Neither are you, General.”

The words hung between them, fragile as the night air. His hand remained on her cheek, warm and steady, grounding her, as if he could erase the weight of her sorrow with a simple touch. She drew in a shaky breath, her heart pounding not from the grief that had been consuming her, but from the unexpected tenderness of his presence.

She’d known him as a leader, a warrior—a man of strength and coldness who had killed hundreds. But that night, in the quiet of the room, he was simply… human. A quiet warmth spread through her chest. Here, now, he was a man vulnerable in his own way, reaching out to her, offering something more than just protection—he was offering a connection that she thought she would never need again after Atticus.

As they sat there in the darkness, two souls now becoming bound by grief and a shared purpose, Acacius did not let go of her. He allowed her to cry, doing his best to wipe away the tears that seemed to overflow, one after another, as if each drop carried with it a lifetime of sorrow. He could feel her tremble in his arms, the fragile sound of her sobs breaking his heart piece by piece.

He didn’t speak, knowing there were no words that could fill the empty space between them, no promises that could erase the weight of her loss. There was absolutely nothing he could do to fix what she had experienced in mere hours, and he knew that. The only thing he could offer was his presence—his unwavering support in this fragile moment. His hand gently stroked the back of her head, his fingers threading through her tangled, now unkempt hair, as if he could somehow steady her with the rhythm of his touch.

"Cecilia," he murmured softly, "you don't have to carry this alone."

But she shook her head, the motion small and defeated. "I do," she whispered back, her voice breaking. "I have to. There’s no one else left." Her words were sharp, like jagged glass, and they sliced through the air, leaving a bitter taste between them. "You don’t understand…"

Acacius’s heart tightened. He could feel the weight of her isolation, the way the burden of everything she had lost and experienced pressed down on her. It was too heavy to bear alone. The silence between them stretched, thick and heavy, as he simply held her, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He knew her pain all too well. He, too, had lost so much. The endless battles, the years of fighting, the faces of those who had fallen—he carried them with him, like shadows that never left.

But this—her—was different. She was different.

"You’re not alone anymore," he whispered, his voice raw and vulnerable. His arms tightened around her, as though his embrace could offer some measure of protection from the storms raging inside her. "Not as long as I’m here."

Cecilia wiped her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand, trying to steady herself. "I don’t deserve this," she whispered hoarsely. "I don’t deserve your kindness, Acacius. I am not the chosen one. I called you a killer, I drew conclusions before you could tell me the truth.”

Acacius’s heart ached at the fragility in her voice. He reached out and gently cupped her cheek once more, tilting her face up to meet his. There was a softness in his eyes now, a quiet resolve that seemed to melt through the tension between them.

"You do," he said firmly. "You deserve peace." His thumb traced the outline of her jaw, the touch so tender it almost felt reverent. "Let me help you. I’m not asking for anything in return, I owe this to you. I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever."

For the first time since he had met her, there was no battle or tension between them. No politics, no war, no secrets. Just two people trying to navigate a situation that neither of them had asked for. And in that silence, a deeper connection formed between them, one from the raw, untamed human need for comfort and understanding.

Acacius broke the quiet first, his voice unexpectedly steady, as though he'd found a place of calm amid the storm of his thoughts. "I don't know what comes next," he said, his eyes scanning the room as if looking for answers in the shadows. He exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration. "I’ve spent my life fighting, Cecilia. I’ve learned how to strategize, how to lead armies, how to survive." He paused, almost as if reconsidering his own words. "But I do not know where to begin with this, I am at a loss.”

“We start with what must be done,” she said, slowly releasing herself from his grip to speak, “I will begin listening to Emperor Geta. I will follow his orders, be a wife.”

The words hung in the air between them. For a moment, Acacius didn’t respond, his mind whirling with the implications of what she was saying. He understood the necessity behind her words, but the resignation in her voice struck him deeper than he expected. He could see it in her—the way she held herself in check, as if bracing for the weight of something she could no longer avoid.

"You don’t have to do this,” he said softly, his eyes searching hers, trying to read the resolve behind them. “If you don’t trust him, we can find another way. There are other alliances, other ways to fight this. You do not need to go through any more pain.”

She shook her head slowly, the motion faint but definitive. "It’s not about trust anymore," she replied, her gaze unwavering. "It’s about deception. If I want any chance of influencing Geta, of keeping a hand on this, I need to play my part. I need to be his wife, fulfill his desires, at least in the eyes of those who still believe in him."

Acacius knew she was right, but his heart ached for what she would have to endure under those conditions.This was not a fight she could win with strength alone. This was the quiet war of submission, of manipulation, of being forced into a role she never asked for. And worse, she was choosing it, for the sake of a cause greater than her own freedom.

His gaze softened as he watched her, her expression resolute, the flicker of uncertainty buried deep beneath the surface. He could see it in the tightness of her jaw, the way her eyes held a distant, haunted look, as if she were already mourning the part of herself she would have to sacrifice in order to follow through.

"I know you think this is the only way," Acacius said quietly, his voice low with emotion. "But it doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to do this, Cecilia."

She turned to him, her face a study of quiet strength, but beneath that, he could feel the conflict, the raw fear of her situation. She wasn’t doing this for the emperor. She wasn’t doing it for power. She was doing it because there was no other choice left. She was choosing to endure the cage so that others could have a fighting chance.

"I’m not doing it for anyone," she replied, her voice tight. "I’m doing it because we need to know what he's planning, how far these emperors are willing to go to hold onto their power. I’m doing it because I need to know… how far I can go.

She was right—this was their way in. Their best chance of finding out what Geta was really after. But the cost... the cost was too high.

"I can’t bear the thought of you playing that role," he said, his voice rough. "Not when I know the kind of man Geta is, what he’s capable of. He’ll use you, Cecilia. He’ll twist everything about you, every part of you that makes you …you. You’ll be nothing more than a pawn in his game, and I can’t let that happen to you."

She looked at him then, her expression softer than before, but still filled with a quiet determination. "I’ve already been a pawn in this game, Acacius. We all have been. The only difference now is that I’m choosing my role, choosing how I play."

He wanted to say more, to argue, to tell her she didn’t have to do this, but the truth was, she was right. They didn’t have the luxury of time or perfect choices. They couldn’t wait for another opportunity to fall into their laps. She had made her decision, and there was no turning back now. Any time wasted at that point was the lives of innocent individuals.

"We will meet here every morning," Acacius said, "As the sun rises. I will have an update for you every day as I build the rebellion."

Cecilia nodded, absorbing the weight of his words, the quiet resolve in his tone reaching deep into her. She repeated his words softly, almost as a vow to herself, "Every day before dawn."

Acacius’s gaze softened for a moment, but the intensity in his eyes remained unshaken. "You will not suffer much longer, my lady," he said, his voice low but firm. "I make an oath to you on that."

His words hung between them, heavy with promise. But there was fear too, creeping into both of their thoughts like the chill of the night air. What if it didn’t work?

And yet, there was something in Acacius’s voice, something in the way he spoke with such unwavering certainty, that made her wonder if perhaps—just perhaps—they might succeed.

"I trust you," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, the weight of the statement more than just words. "And I will wait for you."

"I will not ask you to wait forever, Cecilia," he said quietly, stepping closer, his presence like a steadying force. "I will not let them take any more from you than they already have."

And for the first time since they had met, Cecilia believed him.

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