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escelia · 8 months ago

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New Sibling Just Dropped

Or Danny gets willingly isekai'd into the DCU and gets a twin out of it.

I know I disappeared from the face of the earth for a bit there, and there's stuff I should probably be updating, but I come baring different stuff this time :D

Just started this for fun, and I have at least one other chapter of it done, but idk how long this bout of inspiration will last, so I'm just rolling with it for now.

@flamingpudding look! i pulled a jason todd and rose from the grave!

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Danny was tired. The kind of tired you felt behind your eyes and in your bones, and weighed heavy with achievement. He was perched on the edge of a building in his ghost form looking over Amity Park with a soft smile as he watched Youngblood run through the park with human children, Cujo playfully on their heels. His galaxy cloak (which had been a coronation gift) billowed around his lap like a gas with stars twinkling inside.

It had been a few years now since he took up the Crown of Fire and became High King of the Infinite Realms, and while he had accomplished many things since then, graduating from high school wasn't something on that list. It sucked that he wouldn't get to walk across the stage with Sam and Tucker, but in the face of all he'd been able to do for both Amity and the Infinite Realms, it was worth it. They coexisted now. There was still trouble every now and then, but Danny had helped the ghosts who insisted on staying in Amity Park find a place in their city where they could thrive.

Youngblood watched over the children of the city, Box Ghost started a box recycling center, Lunch Lady started a program to get food to families that couldn't afford it, and Pointdexter started reporting bullying at the school since he was already there.

On the Realms' side, Danny shut down Walker's prison. Since it was his lair, he couldn't take it away from him completely, but it no longer housed the many ghosts the warden had considered "rule breakers." He'd given Walker a new set of rules to enforce and essentially took him under his wing as a royal soldier, kept under the close watch of Fight Knight, who'd defected from Pariah Dark so fast after his defeat that it was laughable.

He'd done something similar with Skulker, though he was a harder case to crack. Unlike Walker, who was happy as long as he had a set of rules to enforce, Skulker wanted to keep hunting. He'd been recruited forcefully by Walker and Fright Knight after they caught him on his way to fight Danny again.

All in all, everything had begun to run smoothly now. The fatigue weighing on him reminded him that it had been hard to accomplish, and continuing to lead his double life hadn't made it any less exhausting. A cold breath rushed through his chest as he felt a familiar presence slide up next to him.

"You didn't time out," Danny pointed out without looking to face the ghost beside him. Clockwork hummed in acknowledgment.

"Sometimes it's pleasant to watch time flow in person." It was Danny's turn to hum at him.

"How are you feeling?" The Ancient asked thoughtfully. The younger ghost tilted his head pensively.

"It's hard to say. I'm tired, but I'm happy. And also sad..." he paused to gather his thoughts. "I feel like I've done everything I needed to."

But not everything he wanted to do.

"Go on," Clockwork pressed. The teenager did turn his head now to make a face at his mentor. If the guy knew how he felt and what he was going to say, why would he say it out loud? But the other just arched a brow at him and waited.

"Fine," he pouted. "I've spent so much time and energy finding places for everyone here. The GIW are gone, my parents stopped hunting ghosts, Jazz got into the psychology program at Stanford, Sam and Tucker are graduating today... I helped make that happen, I know I did! But they're moving on without me. They're growing up and I don't feel like I am."

'I don't feel like I'm ready.'

Danny stopped to take a breath and wipe away the icy tears gathering in his eyes. He felt stupid for crying over it. He was 17 for Ancients' sake! Jazz would have told him he grew up too fast, but he still felt like a child. He had no idea what he was doing! And yet! And yet... he felt...

"But you also feel ancient, right? Like you've been around too long and seen too much?" Clockwork said as though he were reading from a script. Danny sulked. Stupid time ghost with his dumb Time Stream TV or whatever.

"Yeah..."

"All Ancients feel that way. Though you may be feeling unbalanced in more ways than one because of how young you died and the fact you are half human."

"What do you mean?" Danny turned his whole body to face him now, tucking his knees under his chin and circling his arms around them. His cloak moved with him in inky black wisps and settled around him again like clouds of galaxies.

Clockworks form shifted to that of a child.

"You feel young because you died young. However, it is the nature of humans to grow and change. While you may have died at 14, your childhood died before that. You yearn to grow and learn, while also being an incredibly powerful Ancient."

He supposed that made sense. He recalled all the years cleaning the lab before the portal had even been built, and the fighting and neglect (Jazz's words, not his) that spawned his disdain of Christmas even longer before. He wanted to go back to school. He wanted a reason to love Christmas. He wanted pets and family dinners that didn't come alive. He wanted to grow up properly.

"But you still want to help people," the ghost said as though Danny had been talking out loud or having his mind read.

"I hate it when you do that," Danny complained. Clockwork just smiled smugly.

"I know." He laughed at the glare Danny threw him.

"I have a proposition for you," the older ghost began. Danny perked up in intrigue. "I know of another earth dimension with some problems that need to be addressed. Your role as High King puts you in a position to be helpful."

"Their problem has to do with the Realms?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Ectoplasm from the Realms is pooling into what are referred to on their planet as Lazarus Pits. They are both helpful and harmful as they do not dissipate into the air so they continually collect and concentrate emotion, but they do sometimes revive the dead."

Danny grimaced in disgust at the thought of dunking a person into a stagnant pool of contaminated ectoplasm. "That sounds disgusting."

"Quite," Clockwork agreed.

"So what's your proposition?"

"Well, if it is agreeable to you, I would like to de-age your physical form and place you with a family that's had dealings with the Pits firsthand. I've found them to be quite charming."

"Ah, so you want me to go in undercover?" Danny couldn't help but roll his eyes a little. It wasn't a half bad idea. He could try his hand at childhood again and still get to handle his duties as King Phantom. Leading a double life again would be easy enough, it was just stepping from one role into another.

"Not at all." Clockwork smiled knowingly. Danny was officially suspicious of his ghost guardian. "This planet has had all kinds of dealings with the occult, and even humans with superpowers isn't that unusual. While I would advise against telling anyone you are a king right away, you are in fact just that: a king. You may do what you wish."

For an ancient and wise time ghost, Danny thought Clockwork was really shit at hiding his expressions. Though he tried to keep the grin off his face, Danny could clearly see the twitching of his lips and gleam in his eyes that promised the old man was scheming.

But to get his childhood back. Or, at least a semblance of one... it deserved consideration. Danny looked back out at the cityscape again. Sam and Tucker... they were down there graduating from high school without him. He'd been the one to encourage them to pull away from Team Phantom activities to zero in on their studies, but he didn't regret it. Sam wanted to major in environmental science and Tucker wanted to go to MIT and he just didn't fit into those plans. After Jazz left for Stanford, his parents often forgot he was still there. He'd managed to convince them to study ghosts properly instead of hunting them, and with a little help from the "friendly ghost King Phantom" they were given a place to start. They dove into their research with the same excitement and fervor they'd had all their lives. Which of course meant he went days, sometimes weeks, without seeing them emerge from the lab. It was easy enough to slip past them to the portal while they were distracted.

The point was that he'd started to feel his anchor to this city, to this realm, start to dissipate as the people who kept him there started to break away from him. He still loved them, wanted to protect them, but they were safe and happy now. He felt fulfilled in his task of protecting them, but there was a buzzing beneath his skin to do more.

Danny took a deep and controlled breath. He didn't need it in his ghost form, but it felt good to feel his lungs stretch to fullness.

"When would I start?" He asked finally. The straight face Clockwork had been trying to keep, and he really was so bad at it, finally broke into a wide grin.

"Right now. Everything is already in place and your duties in the Realms will be taken care of in your absence."

Danny smiled softly at his guardian. Clockwork sure had a funny way of showing it, but he cared so deeply for the boy next to him that when Danny responded with a bad pun, he couldn't even be annoyed.

"Well, no time like the present!" He winked.

Clockwork chuckled, and with a flash of light, he sent Danny on his way.

The more time the older ghost spent with his young ward, the more he appreciated him. The Danny he’d come to know was nothing like the Danny’s from other worlds he’d encountered while trying to prevent Dan from existing. His Danny was now truly one of a kind. None of the others, not even the ones that eventually turned into Dan, had been Ancients. There would never be another Danny like him, and every universe was adjusting to include him should he ever decide to visit them. He had a place in any world, should he choose, but Clockwork knew he was needed most in the one he’d sent him to. It would be truly entertaining to watch the young Ancient settle into his role there, and Clockwork was actually finding himself looking forward to it.

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

It was dark and quiet a long while before Danny opened his eyes. And when he did open them it got really loud and really bright really fast. It belatedly occurred to him that he should have asked like a billion more questions before agreeing to be iseaki’d into a different dimension to join a family he knew literally nothing about.

There was shouting before someone in what looked like a ninja cult uniform shoved a knife into his hand and pushed him in the path of a person in a different uniform. The man in front of him was dressed in blue and black and wearing a mask that covered his eyes, but Danny could see the surprised shape of his mouth before it morphed into something like anger. And then he was being lunged at.

He shrieked as he dodged out of the way. Not his most graceful save, but whatever. His voice was a bit shrill and his center of gravity felt way off. He must have actually been de-aged! He wondered how old he was now. He still felt light on his feet thanks to his ghost half which felt blessedly intact. But the other guy was fast and he ducked into a roll just in time to dodge whatever weapon he was holding. This guy meant business, but he had no idea why he was trying to kill him.

‘Great, thanks Grandfather Clock for throwing me right back into the good ol’ days,’ he thought sarcastically. Nobody had attacked him for no good reason like that since Walker and Fright caught Skulker mid hunt for the very last time.

What he now saw was a baton swung down from overhead and Danny knew he wouldn't dodge it in time, so he caught it with the flat of the blade that had been shoved into his hands.

“Wait! Why are we fighting?” Danny yelled, panicked as the guy pushed more force into it. The man's face twisted into something like confusion for a moment and he backed off just the tiniest bit before the scuffing of shoes to his right had him looking over just in time to see another guy in a mask, this time in red, rushing at him. He threw his hands up in surrender.

“Wait!” He shrieked before he was absolutely bodied sideways into the ground.

Why was he doing this? He was half ghost, he could have just gone intangible and disappeared. He didn't have to be body slammed into the ground. Wasn't he a child now? Did that guy in red actually just slam a whole child into the ground?

“Red, hold on! This one's different!”

“What do you mean?” The guy Red asked. He was still pinning Danny to the ground.

“Yeah, what do you mean?” Danny asked breathlessly, then whimpered, “Someone please tell me what's going on!”

The one hovering over him must have seen something on his face that convinced him to not try and kill him anymore, because he grabbed him by the collar and started dragging him along.

“We'll take him in for questioning. Don't let Robin see him.”

“Who's Robin?!”

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

It had been a long, arduous, and confusing journey from wherever they were to… well, wherever they were now. They'd blindfolded him for the transport so he still had no idea what was going on. He had learned that the guy with batons was Nightwing, and Red was actually Red Robin. The one they called Robin was a feral looking thing with swords, he was very small and stabby. Then there was Batman, and he totally threw off the whole bird theme but was easily the most intimidating. And that was all he knew so far. He'd been restrained at an interrogation table.

Danny groaned and knocked his forehead onto the table. He really, really wished he'd asked Clockwork more questions. He'd at least been able to catch a glimpse of himself in the glass behind Batman. He looked like he was eleven or twelve again, which was not as young as he'd been expecting, but much more preferable than being a literal toddler. The group of people he’d been brought in by seemed to be heroes. They were all incredibly weary of him, but hadn’t gone out of their way to harm him since his capture. Though it was hard to call it a capture when there wasn’t a chase involved.

“How old are you?” Batman asked suddenly. His voice was low and rough and somehow Danny could tell it didn't sound like that naturally.

“Um, maybe eleven or twelve?” Danny replied carefully, picking up his head from the table and having the decency to look a little embarrassed.

“And what's your name?” He looked like he was expecting something.

“My name is Danny, sir.”

“Hmm…”

It was quiet and awkward for a long moment.

“Why are you different from the other clones?”

“Yeeeaaah, I'm not a clone.” Danny absolutely did not jump when the brute slammed the file folder shut in front of him.

“We'll see what your DNA results have to say about that,” he said confidently before turning to leave, his cape dramatically flaring out behind him.

Sheesh, and he thought he’d had a flair for the dramatics.

‘Okay, time for some assessment,’ Danny thought to himself as he looked around the small closed room. It was soundproofed incredibly well. While he didn’t have super crazy hearing, it was enhanced by his ghost half, and combined with his other sharp senses, it tended to help him gather more information than others could. The most he could hear outside the room was a quiet hum of activity and nothing discernible. Still, he needed to decide how much he would say to these people. How much truth did he want to weave into his tale? These people clearly already had their own assumptions about him in mind, and while there was absolutely nothing wrong with being a clone, he knew he didn’t have what it took to keep up an act like that for long, which would just end up being awkward for everyone.

He also would not be telling them about his status as Ghost King, per Clockwork’s suggestion. His captors seemed like the uptight sort, and revealing that he was a big, scary ghost monarch didn’t seem like it’d go over well. Telling them he was a halfa would probably get them off his back over the clone thing, at least. He went over the list in his head.

He was a halfa from another dimension, so he couldn’t be a clone.

He had no plans of fighting with anyone unless absolutely necessary.

He did not have a way back to his other dimension.

His name was Danny, and he didn’t have a family anymore.

He did not know why he was in the middle of whatever fight he woke up in.

No, he didn’t know those people.

Danny must’ve been lost in thought for quite a while because his thoughts were interrupted by Batman bursting back through the door. The man’s demeanor had changed completely and he whipped off his cowl to reveal disheveled dark hair, blue eyes, and an expression of absolute heartbreak that accompanied his shuddering breaths. With the mask off, he reminded Danny a lot of his father.

Batman searched his face and, much like Red Robin had before, seemed to notice something there.

“She did it twice,” he muttered to himself. “Two of them this whole time and she didn’t tell me about either of them,” he said through gritted teeth. His frown deepened. Danny copied his frown.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He still had no idea what was going on.

#dcxdp #danny phantom #batman #danny fenton #fanfiction #damian wayne #batfam #just having fun with all the tropes #danny and damian are twins #except they're also kinda not #danny just wants to be a kid again #clockwork is scheming again #not even damian is safe from it #danny wanted something to do and clockwork dropped him and and said “go fix this”#also this is like barely edited

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bueckets · 25 days ago

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Going UP?

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Description: From missed alarms to broken elevators, your Tuesday couldn't get worse, well, until it gets better. When a late-running grad student's desperate dash to save her thesis turns into an unexpected elevator encounter with UConn basketball sensation Paige Bueckers, she learns that sometimes the best assists come from broken machinery.

Armed with nothing but coffee-fueled anxiety and an encyclopedic knowledge of basketball analytics, you find yourself trading quips with college basketball's golden girl in a stalled elevator. What starts as a disaster turns into something else entirely when basketball theory meets practice, terrible jokes meet dangerous grins, and hot chocolate meets, well, everywhere except the mug.

They say love is a game of chances. But when you're trapped between floors with a girl who can bend physics on the court and make your heart run suicides off it, maybe it's worth taking the shot. Sometimes cupid doesn't use arrows. Sometimes he just breaks the elevator.

Featuring: One (1) very broken elevator Several questionably colored cocktails A security guard who's seen it all Basketball plays drawn in spilled Shirley Temples Analytics-based flirting And a whipped cream fight that definitely isn't regulation play

Coming soon to wherever meet-cutes happen in college sports. (Rated R for excessive basketball puns and gay panic)

WC: 8.1k (roughly)

Genre/Notes: uh, i tried to be funny, floofy, rom-com-ish? (i tried), smut at the end, someone gets their kitty ATE, proof read like 50%

Your sneakers pound against the cracked, patchy sidewalk of North Campus, dodging the construction zone that's been "two weeks from completion" since freshman year. The November air bites at your cheeks, sharp as broken glass, and your laptop bag repeatedly slams into your hip with each stride, probably turning your thesis notes into digital confetti. A gust of wind lashes at you, tugging at your jacket, your hair, your sanity, and sending a rogue candy wrapper tumbling like a lonely tumbleweed across the quad like some 50’s Old West showdown.

You'd woken up to three missed calls from your advisor and an email that made your soul leave your body.

Meeting moved to 9:15 AM. Please bring updated analytics models.

It's 9:12.

The universe is really testing you today. First, your roommate's cat knocked your phone off the nightstand, somehow managing to turn off all five of your alarms. Then, the dining hall’s card reader had the audacity to look at your student ID like it was written in crayon, leaving you to scavenge through your bag for exact change like a Victorian orphan. And now this.

You weave through the crowd of freshmen congregating outside the Student Union like they've never seen stairs before, your thermos of room-temperature coffee sloshing dangerously close to the lid. The wind whips a forgotten syllabus past your feet as you cut across the grass (sorry, campus maintenance), taking the "shortcut" that everyone pretends they don't use. You can practically hear the landscaping team groaning somewhere, shaking their heads at the worn-down dirt trail you and a thousand other students have carved into their perfect lawn.

Gampel Pavilion looms ahead, all glass and steel and architectural hubris. The morning sun hits it at an angle that makes it look like it's on fire, which feels appropriate given your current state of mild panic. You've spent so many hours in this building that the security guard, Mike, doesn't even look up from his crossword puzzle anymore when you scan your ID.

"Running late?" he calls out as you blast past his desk.

"What gave it away?" you shout back, already halfway to the elevators. Your sneakers squeak against the polished floors, leaving behind a faint trail of panic and shame— but most importantly, dirt.

The ancient LED display above the elevator shows it's on the third floor. You slam the up button approximately forty-seven times, as if that's ever made an elevator move faster in the history of vertical transportation.

"Come on, come on," you mutter, shifting your weight between feet like you're doing some demented speed-skating warm-up. Your laptop bag keeps sliding off your shoulder, and you're pretty sure your hair looks like you styled it in a wind tunnel. A strand falls into your eyes, and you blow it away with a frustrated huff. Everything about you screams disaster, and yet the elevator couldn’t care less.

The elevator dings. The doors slide open with all the urgency of a DMV employee on a Friday afternoon.

And there she is.

Paige Bueckers is leaning against the back wall of the elevator, one foot propped up behind her, looking like she just stepped out of a Nike ad. Her practice uniform is pristine, her blonde hair pulled back in a perfect ponytail that somehow hasn't gotten the memo about today's wind situation. She's got AirPods in, absently spinning a basketball between her hands like it's an extension of her body.

Your brain short-circuits.

Time seems to slow down as you stand there, probably looking like a deer caught in very attractive headlights. The elevator dings again, threatening to close its doors on your moment of crisis.

Fuck it.

You lunge forward just as the doors start to close, practically diving into the elevator like you're trying to save a ball going out of bounds. Your coffee sloshes, your bag swings, and you nearly face-plant into the corner.

Paige pulls out one AirPod, her eyebrows raised so high they might achieve orbit. "Nice entrance."

You straighten up, trying to salvage whatever dignity might be hiding in the corners of this elevator. "Thanks, I've been practicing."

The elevator starts its ascent with a concerning rattle that definitely wasn't part of the original design. You adjust your bag for the hundredth time, very aware that you probably look like you just lost a fight with a leaf blower. Meanwhile, Paige keeps spinning that damn basketball, the soft thump-thump of it between her hands matching rhythm with your still-racing heart.

Nine floors to go. Eight if your advisor hasn't moved offices again after the Great Coffee Incident of last semester.

You can handle this. You're an adult. A slightly disheveled, possibly caffeine-deprived adult, but still. Just because you're sharing an elevator with the university's basketball goddess doesn't mean you need to—

The lights flicker once. Twice.

The elevator shudders like it's having an existential crisis.

Then everything stops.

The emergency lights kick in, bathing everything in a red glow that makes Paige look like she's starring in a very stylish apocalypse movie. The basketball stops spinning.

"Well," she says, tucking the ball under her arm and giving you a smile that definitely doesn't make your stomach flip. "Looks like the universe has other plans for us this morning."

You look at your phone: 9:14 AM.

Your advisor is going to kill you.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," you mutter, jabbing at the emergency call button like it personally offended you. "This isn't happening. This can't be happening."

The little red light blinks back at you, mocking your entire existence, as if to say, yeah, good luck with that, idiot. You hit the button again, harder this time, because maybe the elevator just needs some aggressive encouragement.

"I don't think that's helping," Paige says, watching you with a mix of amusement and concern. She's still spinning that goddamn basketball, the rhythmic thump-thump now feeling less like a heartbeat and more like a countdown to your academic doom.

"Yeah? Well, neither are you," you snap, immediately regretting it. Great. Now you're trapped in an elevator AND you've just been rude to Paige fucking Bueckers. "Shit, sorry, I just—" You run both hands through your already catastrophic hair. "My advisor is going to crucify me. Like, actually crucify me. She's probably got a cross picked out and everything."

Paige catches the ball mid-spin. "Dr. Martinez?"

"How did you—"

"The only professor I know who actually might own a cross for student crucifixions." She tucks the ball under her arm. "She made one of our freshmen cry last week just by looking at her."

"That tracks." You slide down the wall opposite her, your legs finally giving up on the whole standing thing. "God, I can't believe this. I've got my entire thesis presentation on this laptop, three months of analytics data that I haven't backed up because I'm an idiot, and now I'm going to die in an elevator with—" You wave vaguely in her direction.

"With?" She raises an eyebrow, and you swear there's a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

"With UConn's basketball savior who's probably missing practice right now because the universe decided today was a great day for some cosmic practical joke." You let your head thunk back against the wall. "Coach Auriemma's probably already got a hit out on me."

Paige laughs, and the sound does something weird to your chest. "Nah, Coach is more of a 'make you run suicides until you puke' kind of guy. Much less paperwork than murder."

"Fantastic. So I'll die from academic execution AND athletic retribution. Perfect way to start a Tuesday."

"You always this dramatic before 9:30?" She's definitely smirking now.

"Only when I'm trapped in elevators with pretty girls who should be at practice."

The words are out before your brain can catch up with your mouth. Your eyes go wide, and you seriously consider trying to pry open the doors and jump down the shaft.

But Paige just grins, wide and dangerous. "Oh, so you think I'm pretty?"

"I think you're deflecting from the fact that we're stuck in a metal box that's older than both of us combined," you say, proud of how steady your voice comes out despite the internal screaming.

"And I think you're deflecting from the fact that you just called me pretty."

You pull out your phone again, desperate for a distraction. "No signal. Perfect. This is fine. Everything is fine."

"Could be worse," Paige says, stretching her legs out in front of her. Her feet almost reach where you're sitting, and you absolutely do not notice how long her legs are. "Could be stuck in here with Dr. Martinez."

That startles a laugh out of you. "Jesus, don't even joke about that. She'd probably make me defend my thesis right here."

"Yeah? What's it about?"

You look up from your phone to find her watching you with what appears to be genuine interest. "You really want to know?"

"Well," she gestures around the elevator, "it's not like I've got anywhere else to be."

You narrow your eyes. "If this is some kind of pity conversation—"

"It's not." She cuts you off, her voice surprisingly firm. "I'm actually curious. Plus, you look like you might spontaneously combust if you don't talk about something other than being stuck in here."

She's not wrong. Your leg has been bouncing non-stop since you sat down, and you're pretty sure you're about to wear a hole in your bottom lip from biting it.

"Fine," you say, setting your phone aside. "But remember, you asked for this. And if you fall asleep, I'm using that basketball as a pillow."

Paige's eyes light up with something that makes your stomach flip. "Deal."

"Okay, so you know how current basketball analytics are basically just glorified box scores?" You shift to face her properly, your earlier panic morphing into the kind of enthusiasm that usually makes people's eyes glaze over. "Like, sure, we can track points and assists and whatever, but that's just the obvious stuff."

"And there's more than the obvious stuff?" Paige asks, settling in like she's actually planning to follow your inevitably chaotic explanation.

"So much more." You pull your laptop out, balancing it on your crossed legs. "Like, imagine being able to track not just who made the shot, but all the little things that made that shot possible. The way players move without the ball, how defensive shifts create spaces that don't show up in any stat sheet.”

Your hands start moving as you talk, painting invisible patterns in the air. Paige has stopped spinning her basketball, her eyes following your gestures with an intensity that makes you warm all over.

"It's like..." You pause, trying to find the right words. "You know how in chess, sometimes the most important move isn't the one that takes the piece, but the three moves before that made it possible?"

She nods, leaning forward slightly. "Like a setup play."

"Exactly!" You're fully animated now, previous elevator crisis temporarily forgotten. "But current systems don't track that. They don't see how Player A moving left makes Player B's defender shift just enough that Player C can—"

The emergency speaker crackles to life, making you both jump.

"Hello? Anyone in there?" The voice sounds bored, like stuck elevators are just another Tuesday morning inconvenience.

Paige reaches over and hits the call button. "Yeah, we're here. Two people."

"Alright, we've got maintenance heading up. Should have you out in about fifteen minutes. Sit tight."

The speaker clicks off, leaving you both in that red-tinted silence again.

"Fifteen minutes," you groan, letting your head fall back against the wall. "Dr. Martinez is definitely going to have that cross ready."

"Hey," Paige says, and something in her voice makes you look at her. "Tell me more about your system. How do you track all those micro-movements?"

You blink at her. "You actually want to hear more?"

"Would I ask if I didn't?" She's got this soft half-smile that does dangerous things to your ability to think straight. "Plus, you get all..." she waves her hand vaguely, "sparkly when you talk about it."

"Sparkly?"

"Yeah, like you're lit up from the inside." She says it so casually, like she hasn't just made your heart do a full court press against your ribs.

You clear your throat, trying to remember how words work. "Right. Well, um, I've been working with the computer vision lab to develop these tracking algorithms..."

The next fifteen minutes dissolve into a blur of technical explanations and basketball theory. Paige asks surprisingly specific questions, and you try not to look too pleased every time she leans in closer to see something on your laptop screen.

When maintenance finally gets the elevator moving again, it feels too soon.

The doors open on the fourth floor – your floor – and you scramble to pack up your laptop, suddenly aware that you've spent the last twenty minutes word-vomiting about analytics to one of the best basketball players in the country.

"Thanks for, uh, keeping me from completely losing it," you say, standing awkwardly in the doorway. "And sorry about the whole..." you gesture vaguely at yourself, "chaos."

Paige stands too, and even in the normal lighting, she's unfairly pretty. "Chaos looks good on you."

Your brain short-circuits. "Can I get your number?"

The words tumble out before you can stop them, and you immediately want to crawl into the nearest trash can. But Paige just grins, that dangerous one that makes her look like she knows exactly what she's doing to you.

"Tell you what," she says, spinning the basketball on one finger because apparently she's physically incapable of not showing off. "Come to Friday's game. If you can spot one of those micro-interactions you were talking about..." She lets the ball roll down her arm and catches it smoothly. "Maybe you'll find out if I give my number to random girls I meet in elevators."

She backs into the elevator, maintaining eye contact until the doors close between you.

You stand there for a solid thirty seconds, staring at the brushed metal doors like they might reveal the secrets of the universe. Or at least explain how you went from having a mental breakdown about your advisor to what definitely felt like flirting with Paige Bueckers.

Your phone buzzes: another email from Dr. Martinez.

Meeting rescheduled to 2PM. Bring coffee. The good kind.

You look back at the elevator doors, then at your phone, then at the ceiling.

Looks like you're going to a basketball game on Friday.

The security guard at Gampel's student entrance looks at your ticket, then at you, then back at the ticket with the kind of suspicion usually reserved for people trying to use expired coupons at Target.

"This is— courtside," he says slowly, like maybe you don't understand what those words mean.

"Yeah, I, uh,” You shift your weight between feet, very aware of the growing line behind you. "I got it in an email?"

It comes out like a question because honestly, you're still not entirely sure this isn't some elaborate fever dream. The past three days have felt surreal, starting with Dr. Martinez actually smiling during your rescheduled meeting (turns out that fancy coffee shop downtown does make a difference) and ending with an email from [email protected] that made you choke on your morning cereal.

The security guard squints at his scanner like it's personally offending him. "These are usually reserved for—"

"Is there a problem?" A familiar voice cuts through the growing awkwardness, and you turn to find Mike, your elevator-lobby guardian angel, approaching with his signature "I've seen too much student nonsense" expression.

"Got a courtside ticket here, but—"

"Oh, yeah," Mike says, shooting you a look that's somewhere between amused and knowing. "This one's good. Let 'em through."

You mouth a 'thank you' as you pass, and he just shakes his head, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like "kids these days" under his breath.

The student section is already packed, a sea of navy and white that ripples with pre-game energy. But your ticket directs you past all that, down, down, down the steps until you're so close to the court you can smell the fresh polish on the hardwood.

"This isn't happening," you mutter to yourself, dropping into your assigned seat—which is literally close enough to high-five players coming off the court. "This is fine. Everything is fine. You're just casually sitting courtside at a sold-out game because you got trapped in an elevator and word-vomited about basketball analytics for twenty minutes. Totally normal Friday night."

The woman next to you, wearing what looks like several hundred dollars worth of UConn gear, gives you a concerned side-eye.

"Sorry," you say, slinking lower in your seat. "I talk to myself when I'm having an existential crisis."

She just nods and shifts slightly away, which, fair.

The arena fills up quickly, the ambient noise growing from a buzz to a roar. You try to look casual, like you totally belong here and didn't spend forty-five minutes earlier having a breakdown about what to wear to a basketball game when you're sitting close enough to be on TV. (You'd finally settled on jeans and a UConn hoodie, figuring if you're going to have a gay panic on national television, you might as well be comfortable.)

The teams come out for warm-ups, and your heart definitely doesn't skip when you spot number 5 leading the layup line. Paige moves like she's got some sort of cheat code for gravity, each motion fluid and precise. She's got her game face on, all focused intensity and practiced routine, but then—

She catches your eye as she circles back to the line, and her serious expression cracks just enough to let through a hint of that dangerous grin from the elevator.

"Oh, I am so screwed," you breathe, and the woman next to you shifts another inch away.

The game itself is a blur of motion and noise. You try to focus on analyzing plays like you promised, looking for those micro-interactions you'd rambled about, but it's hard to think strategically when Paige keeps making passes that shouldn't be physically possible. Your laptop's probably having a stroke trying to track all these movements.

By halftime, UConn's up by twelve, and you've filled three pages of your Notes app with what started as technical observations but has devolved into increasingly incoherent capslock about various impressive plays. The latest note just says "HOW DID SHE EVEN SEE THAT CUTTING GUARD??? PHYSICS???? HELP????"

"Nice analysis."

You nearly drop your phone. Paige is right there, pretending to adjust her shoes by the bench but clearly smirking in your direction.

"I'm being professionally thorough," you whisper-hiss back, trying to ignore how your pulse is doing full-court sprints.

"Uh huh." She stands up, heading back to the huddle, but not before adding, "You look good in UConn blue, by the way."

You spend the entire third quarter trying to remember how to breathe normally.

The fourth quarter is when you see it—one of those perfect setup plays you'd theorized about. Paige moves left, drawing her defender, while simultaneously nodding almost imperceptibly to her teammate. The slight movement causes a chain reaction: the defense shifts, creating a gap that shouldn't exist, and suddenly there's a perfect passing lane that materializes out of seemingly nowhere. The ball flows through it like water finding the path of least resistance, resulting in an easy layup that looks simple but was actually three moves in the making.

You're on your feet before you realize it, pointing and probably looking deranged. "That! That's exactly what I was talking about! The head fake was the trigger but it wasn't even about the—" You cut yourself off, becoming aware that several people are staring at you, including the woman next to you who's now practically in the next seat over.

As the final buzzer sounds (UConn by 18), your phone buzzes with a new email.

From: [email protected]

Subject: Nice catch

Body: 617-555-0147

PS - Your "professional analysis" face is reaaaaallly cute. Even from ten feet away.

You stare at your phone long enough that the arena starts to empty around you, afraid that if you look away the numbers might disappear like some basketball Cinderella story. The woman next to you finally gets up, edging past with the kind of caution usually reserved for wild animals.

"Sorry about all the,” you gesture vaguely at yourself.

She just pats your shoulder with grandmotherly sympathy. "Honey, I've been watching basketball for forty years, and I've never seen someone have a gay awakening quite that enthusiastically. Good luck with number five."

You're still sputtering when she disappears up the stairs, leaving you alone with a phone number and the distinct feeling that the universe is either laughing at you or playing matchmaker.

Possibly both.

Nah— Definitely both.

After what feels like an eternity of staring at your phone like it holds the secrets of the universe, your bladder kindly reminds you that you stress-drank an entire large iced coffee before the game. Fucking wonderful. You glance at the concourse—and immediately regret every life choice that led to this moment.

The bathroom line snakes around the corner like some kind of hydra-headed monster, full of people who clearly had the same brilliant beverage ideas you did. You briefly consider just holding it and dealing with the consequences later, but your body has other plans.

"This is karma," you mutter, taking your place at the end of the line. "This is definitely karma for all those times I made fun of people waiting in long bathroom lines."

The girl in front of you snorts. "If it helps, I'm pretty sure we're all suffering from the same coffee-based poor judgment."

Twenty minutes. Twenty. Entire. Minutes.

You've gone through every social media app twice, responded to three emails you've been avoiding, and played enough Candy Crush to rot your remaining brain cells by the time you finally emerge from the bathroom. The arena is practically empty now, just cleaning crew and a few lingering fans.

Your phone feels heavy in your pocket, that number burning a hole in your mind. You pull it out, staring at the digits like they might rearrange themselves into instructions on how to text your elevator-meet-cute crush without sounding like a complete disaster.

To: 617-555-0147

Hey, this is your favorite elevator analytics nerd. Great game tonight. That fourth-quarter setup play was chef's kiss

You hit send before you can overthink it, then immediately regret every word choice. Chef's kiss? Really? Maybe if you run fast enough, you can catch up to your dignity before it leaves the building entirely.

Your phone buzzes before you can fully commit to your shame spiral.

From: Paige 🏀

some of us are heading to murphy's for dirty shirleys if you want to continue your "professional analysis" in person? promise there won't be any elevators involved

You nearly trip over your own feet.

Will there be a formal presentation required? Should I prepare slides?

just your sparkling personality and maybe an explanation of how you knew that play was coming before I did 😉

Bold of you to assume I wasn't just gesturing wildly at a mosquito

we both know you're too much of a basketball nerd for that. meet you there in 20?

You pause at the arena exit, looking down at your very casual, very not-prepared-to-go-out outfit. But then again, when has anything about this situation been normal?

Your eyes shoot back to your phone and your frantic typing begins once again.

Only if you promise to explain how that behind-the-back pass in the third quarter didn't break several laws of physics

deal. and hey?

Yeah?

the hoodie really does look good on you

Your stomach shoots to your ass and you stand there grinning at your phone like an idiot until Mike, doing his final security rounds, walks by and shakes his head.

"Don't stay out too late, kid," he calls over his shoulder. "These love stories always get complicated when they start in elevators."

"That was literally ONE MOVIE," you shout after him, but he just waves without turning around.

You look down at your phone one more time, then up at the now-empty arena, and can't help but laugh. Somehow, a broken elevator, an understanding security guard, and a basketball player with a dangerous grin have turned your disaster of a week into whatever this is.

Time to find out if Dirty Shirleys taste better when you're sharing them with a girl who can bend physics on a basketball court.

Murphy's is exactly what would happen if a sports bar had a baby with a college town dive and raised it on a strict diet of neon signs and questionable decor choices. The walls are plastered with enough UConn memorabilia to fill a museum, if museums were into collecting signed napkins and mysteriously stained jerseys.

Your stomach is doing Olympic-level gymnastics as you push open the door, immediately hit by the smell of mozzarella sticks and what you really hope is just decades of spilled beer. The place is packed with post-game energy, and you're pretty sure your heart stops completely when you spot Paige at a corner booth, still in her game-day warmups because apparently she just casually walks around looking like a Nike ad.

"Analytics nerd!" she calls out, waving you over with that stupid grin that makes your brain cells commit mass suicide. "We saved you a seat!"

The 'we' turns out to be a collection of players who could probably stack on top of each other and touch the moon. You slide into the only open spot—right next to Paige, because the universe is clearly not done testing your ability to form coherent sentences today.

"Everyone, this is the elevator girl who knows more about our plays than we do," Paige announces, and your face goes hot enough to fry an egg. "Elevator girl, this is everyone."

"I have a name, you know," you manage, trying to ignore how her shoulder is pressed against yours in the crowded booth.

"Yeah, but 'elevator girl' has a better ring to it," she says, sliding a violently pink drink your way. "Plus, it's technically accurate."

"So is 'basketball menace' but you don't see me—" Your mouth snaps shut as her teammates start cackling.

"Oh, I like this one," says a girl you recognize as KK Arnold, grinning like she just got early Christmas. "She's got bite."

"She's got analytics," Paige corrects, but she's looking at you with something that makes your stomach relocate to somewhere in the general vicinity of Jupiter. "Speaking of which, you never did tell me how you caught that play coming."

You take a long sip of your Dirty Shirley to buy time, immediately regretting it when the sugar content threatens to give you instant cavities. "Holy shit, what's in this? Pure pixie stick powder?"

"Don't deflect," Paige says, poking your side. "We've got a whole team of analysts and none of them caught it. So spill."

"Fine, but only because you bought me diabetes in a glass." You shift to face her, accidentally-on-purpose letting your knee rest against hers under the table. "It was your head."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "My head?"

"You've got this tell," you say, getting into it now because apparently basketball analysis is your ideal flirting language. "This tiny little head tilt you do when you're setting up something sneaky. Like a cat about to knock something off a table, but make it basketball."

The entire table goes quiet, then erupts in laughter.

"She's got you there, P," Ice wheezes. "You do look like a menacing cat sometimes!"

Paige is staring at you with a mix of indignation and something else that makes your chest feel too small for your heart. "I do not have a cat tell."

"You absolutely do," you say, emboldened by sugar and the way her eyes keep dropping to your lips. "It's actually kind of cu—"

"SHOTS!" someone yells, and suddenly there's a tray of something alarmingly blue being passed around.

"Oh god," you mutter, watching the liquid slosh ominously. "Is this what happens when a Smurf dies?"

Paige nearly chokes on her drink. "That's terrible!"

"Just like these shots are about to be?"

She leans in close—too close, definitely too close for your remaining brain cells to function—and whispers, "Good thing I like terrible jokes."

Your stomach shoots to your ass (and possibly into another dimension) as she pulls back with a wink that should be illegal in at least forty-eight states.

"I hate you," you inform her, grabbing one of the Smurf funeral shots because if you're going to have a gay crisis in a college bar, you might as well commit fully.

"No you don't," she says with absolute certainty, and the worst part is she's right.

You really, really don't.

The night dissolves into a blur of increasingly ridiculous drinks (who knew they made something called a "Husky Howl"?), basketball stories that get more elaborate with each round, and Paige's thigh pressed warm against yours under the table. You learn that she stress-bakes before big games, that she once tried to teach her dog to play basketball, and that when she really laughs—like, really laughs—she snorts a little and it's possibly the cutest thing you've ever seen.

At some point, Azzi starts drawing up plays on napkins with increasingly chaotic drink-fueled creativity. Aaliyah Edwards keeps stealing her pen to "fix" the defensive rotations, while Nika Mühl throws wadded-up straw wrappers at both of them, critiquing their "absolutely trash spacing."

"No, no, look," KK follows imaginary lines with her finger across the napkin, accidentally dragging it through a puddle of spilled Shirley Temple. "If we run this here, and then—" she grabs your arm— "you're the defense, okay? Stand up."

"I absolutely am not," you protest, but Paige is already pulling you up with that stupid grin that makes your knees forget how joints work.

"Come on, elevator girl," she teases, positioning you near the booth. "Show us those analytics skills in action."

"I hate all of you," you mutter, but you're laughing as KK tries to demonstrate some elaborate defensive scheme that mostly involves her spinning in circles while Aaliyah provides unhelpful commentary.

"Your footwork is trash, bestie," Aaliyah calls out, now using maraschino cherries to build what appears to be a scale model of the paint.

"YOUR footwork is trash," KK shoots back, then promptly trips over nothing.

"Ladies, ladies," Paige steps in, all faux seriousness undermined by the way she can't stop grinning. "Let a professional show you how it's done."

She moves behind you, hands settling lightly on your hips, and your brain immediately flatlines. "See, proper defensive stance is all about—"

"Get a fuckin' room!" Nika yells, launching another straw wrapper that hits Paige square in the forehead.

"Actually," Paige says close to your ear, and your stomach does approximately seventeen backflips, "I've got that new analytics setup at my apartment if you want to see it. You know, for research purposes."

You turn to face her, very aware that her hands haven't moved from your hips. "Research purposes?"

"Mhmm." That dangerous grin is back. "Purely academic, of course."

"Of course," you manage, trying to ignore the way your pulse is doing a full drumline routine.

"Oh my god," KK groans from the booth. "This is worse than when Aaliyah tried to flirt with that barista using coffee puns."

"Hey!" Aaliyah protests. "That was smooth!"

"You asked if she wanted to 'espresso' her feelings!"

"And now we're dating, so who's the real winner here?"

Paige rolls her eyes at their antics, but her thumbs are drawing small circles on your hips that are making it very hard to focus on anything else. "So? Want to help me with some late-night analysis?"

Your stomach shoots to your ass as you meet her eyes, finding them sparkling with something that definitely isn't just about basketball statistics. "I mean, it would be unprofessional to turn down a research opportunity..."

"GET OUT OF HERE," Azzi throws a cherry that sails completely wide of both of you. "Your gay panic is ruining my plays."

"Your plays were already ruined," Nika points out, helpfully redrawing the vodka-smudged X's and O's with what appears to be lip gloss.

Paige grabs her jacket with one hand and your hand with the other, tugging you toward the door. "Don't wait up, nerds!"

"USE PROTECTION!" Aubrey shouts after you, causing several nearby tables to choke on their drinks.

"I mean, analytics can be very dangerous," you say with mock seriousness as you step into the cool night air, very aware that Paige hasn't let go of your hand. "All those numbers flying around."

"Absolutely hazardous," she agrees, pulling you closer as you walk. "Better stick together. For safety."

"For safety," you repeat, hoping she can't feel your pulse racing where your fingers are intertwined. "And research."

"And research," she echoes, giving you that sidelong grin that makes your heart forget how to beat properly. "Though I should warn you..."

"Yeah?"

She stops under a streetlight, turning to face you with eyes that sparkle with mischief. "My elevator works perfectly fine."

Your laugh echoes off the empty street. "Damn. There goes my backup plan."

"I'm sure we can find other ways to get stuck together," she says, and your stomach relocates somewhere in the general vicinity of Mars.

As you follow her down the quiet streets of Storrs, your joined hands swinging between you, you make a mental note to buy Mike the biggest coffee gift card you can afford.

Broken elevators might just be your new favorite thing.

Paige's apartment is exactly what you'd expect from someone who's somehow both a basketball prodigy and a complete dork—there's a literal trophy shelf right next to a collection of Star Wars Funko Pops, and her UConn jersey hangs framed above what appears to be a very elaborate gaming setup.

"Nice lightsaber," you say, nodding to the collector's edition propped in the corner.

"Nice deflection from how your hands are shaking," she shoots back, shrugging off her jacket.

"It's cold outside!"

"Uh huh." She disappears into the kitchen, and you hear cabinets opening. "Want some hot chocolate? I promise it's better than those nuclear waste shots Aubrey kept ordering."

Your stomach does a weird flip at how domestic this feels. "Only if you have—"

"Mini marshmallows and whipped cream? What kind of monster do you think I am?"

You follow her voice to find her already pulling out mugs, one of which has "Ball is Life" written in what appears to be glitter pen. "The kind that owns a bedazzled basketball mug?"

"First of all, Nika made this for my birthday and it's a masterpiece," she says, grabbing milk from the fridge. "Second of all, you're just jealous of my sophisticated taste."

"Oh, absolutely. Nothing says sophistication like..." you pick up a container from the counter, "unicorn hot chocolate mix?"

She snatches it back, fighting a grin. "It's limited edition!"

"Of course, my mistake. Clearly I'm in the presence of a fine dining connoisseur."

The kitchen fills with the smell of chocolate as she heats the milk, and you try not to stare at how she's rolled up her sleeves, forearms on full display as she stirs. You fail miserably.

"See something you like?" she asks without turning around, because apparently she has eyes in the back of her head.

"Just admiring your hot chocolate technique."

"My technique is excellent, thank you very much." She turns, holding up a can of whipped cream with a dangerous glint in her eye. "Want to see?"

Your throat goes dry. "I feel like this is a trap."

"Maybe." She takes a step closer, and your back hits the counter. "But you've been analyzing my moves all night. Shouldn't I get a turn?"

You're about to say something witty—really, you are—but then she's shaking the whipped cream can and all your brain cells collectively abandon ship.

"Don't you dare—"

The words are barely out before she's spraying whipped cream directly at your face. You squeal (not your proudest moment) and grab for the can, resulting in a brief wrestling match that ends with cream basically everywhere except in the actual mugs.

"You're such a menace!" you gasp, trying to wipe cream off your nose while she cackles.

"Says the girl who called me out on my head tilt in front of my whole team!"

"That's different! That was professional analysis!"

"Oh yeah?" She steps closer, effectively pinning you against the counter. "Analyze this."

Your heart stops as she reaches up, thumb gently wiping whipped cream from the corner of your mouth. Time seems to freeze, your entire world narrowing to that point of contact and the way her eyes drop to your lips.

"Your technique could use some work," you manage to whisper, and she laughs—that real laugh, with the little snort that makes your chest feel too small for your heart.

"Maybe you should show me how it's done then."

Your stomach shoots through the floor as you reach up, threading your fingers through her hair (definitely getting whipped cream in it but whatever), and pull her down to meet you.

She tastes like chocolate and whipped cream and something uniquely her, and you can feel her smile against your lips as she wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

"How's that for technique?" you murmur when you finally break apart, both breathing a bit harder.

"Hmm." She pretends to consider it, but her eyes are sparkling and her hands are still firmly on your waist. "Might need more data to make a proper analysis."

"Oh my god, you're actually worse than me with the nerd references."

"You like it," she says with absolute certainty, leaning in again.

"Maybe," you concede against her lips. "But only because you're cute when you're being smug."

She pulls back just enough to give you that dangerous grin that started this whole thing. "Just cute?"

"And modest, clearly."

"I'll show you modest," she growls, and then she's kissing you again, deeper this time, backing you further against the counter until you're pretty sure your soul leaves your body entirely.

The hot chocolate goes cold on the counter,

The hot chocolate goes cold on the counter, forgotten in the haze of warm laughter and sticky fingers. At some point, her lips found their way back to yours, sweet and a little messy, and now you’re on her couch, knees bumping against hers as you both settle into an almost tentative rhythm. She pulls back just slightly, her forehead resting against yours, and her breath fans across your lips in short, uneven bursts.

“You’re trouble,” she whispers, her voice low and a little breathless, her hands sliding up your arms to rest on your shoulders, thumbs brushing the curve of your collarbone.

“You like trouble,” you fire back, and there’s just enough of a spark in your tone to make her grin.

“I really do,” she admits, and before you can respond, her lips are on yours again, slower this time, deliberate. It’s not the playful teasing from before—it’s something heavier, something that makes your heart stutter in your chest and your hands curl into the soft fabric of her sweatshirt.

Her fingers tangle in your hair as she shifts, nudging you gently until your back hits the cushions. She hovers above you, her knees bracketing your thighs, her ponytail spilling over one shoulder as she leans down to kiss you again. This time, it’s a little rougher, her teeth catching on your bottom lip just enough to make you gasp, and the sound seems to light something in her eyes.

“You’re killing me,” you murmur against her mouth, and she pulls back just enough to look at you, her grin sharper now.

“Good,” she says simply, and her hands are on the hem of your hoodie, tugging it up. “This okay?”

You nod, swallowing hard, and she doesn’t wait for a second invitation. The hoodie’s off in a flash, tossed somewhere behind the couch, and her eyes sweep over you like she’s committing every inch to memory. Her hands are warm as they skim over your sides, fingertips brushing against bare skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“You’re gorgeous,” she says softly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and the way she says it makes you believe her, even with your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you manage, trying to sound casual even as she leans back down, her lips finding the curve of your jaw and then lower, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses to your neck. Your hands find her waist, and you can feel the strength of her beneath the soft cotton of her sweatshirt, her muscles flexing slightly as she shifts against you.

“Should we,” she starts, her voice trailing off as she pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. There’s a question there, unspoken but clear, and you answer it by pulling her back down, your lips crashing into hers with more urgency than before.

“Definitely,” you say between kisses, and that’s all the encouragement she needs.

Her sweatshirt joins your hoodie somewhere on the floor, and her hands are everywhere—your waist, your thighs, the curve of your hip. It’s all a blur of heat and soft laughter and the kind of clumsy, sweet desperation that only comes with two people trying to figure out how they fit together.

The couch is too small, the angles all wrong, and at some point, she pulls back just enough to breathe, “Bed?”

You nod, and then she’s pulling you to your feet, her hand sliding down to lace her fingers with yours as she leads you toward her room. There’s something about the way she looks back at you, her grin soft and a little nervous, that makes your heart ache in the best way.

The moment you’re through the door, she’s on you again, her hands sliding up your back as she kisses you like she’s trying to memorize every curve, every shiver. The bed is soft beneath you, and her weight is solid and warm as she follows you down, her knee nudging between yours as she leans over you.

“You’re really good at this whole ‘research’ thing,” you tease, and she laughs against your collarbone, the sound low and husky and so incredibly her.

“Don’t distract me,” she murmurs, and her hands are on you again, her touch firm and sure and just a little shaky in a way that makes your chest swell with affection.

And when she kisses you again, slow and deep, you think, for the first time all week, that maybe the universe actually got something right.

The mattress dips under her weight as Paige pulls back just enough to take you in, her hair falling loose from her ponytail, framing her face in a way that feels criminally unfair. There’s a glint in her eye now, something teasing but focused, like she’s about to run the most calculated play of her life.

“You look nervous,” she says, her lips curling into that sharp grin that’s been undoing you all night.

“I’m not nervous,” you lie, though your voice cracks on the last syllable like your body’s calling you out.

She chuckles, low and throaty, and leans down, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Good. Because I’m about to ruin you, and I don’t need you overthinking it.”

Before you can process what she said, she’s sliding down your body with deliberate slowness, her hands dragging over your sides, down your hips, and hooking around the waistband of your leggings. She raises an eyebrow, silently asking permission, and the second you nod, she pulls them down in one fluid motion, leaving you feeling bare and achingly vulnerable.

“Holy shit,” Paige mutters under her breath, her eyes locked on you like she’s just stumbled on a masterpiece at an art museum. Her hands settle on your thighs, thumbs tracing small circles that send shivers racing up your spine. “You’re so—” She stops, shakes her head, and looks up at you with that cocky grin. “Nah, I’m gonna show you instead of telling you.”

Her lips press to the inside of your knee, soft at first, but as she moves higher, her kisses grow hungrier, her teeth grazing your skin just enough to leave you squirming.

“Paige,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper, but she just hums against your thigh like she’s savoring her favorite meal.

“Patience,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your skin as she shifts lower. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?”

Your response gets caught in your throat as her mouth finally finds you, and every coherent thought you’ve ever had promptly evaporates. Her tongue moves with the same precision she has on the court, all calculated angles and devastating accuracy, and it’s like she’s figured out exactly how to dismantle you.

“Fuck—Paige—” Your hips jerk involuntarily, but her hands hold you steady, her grip firm enough to keep you grounded while her mouth does the opposite.

She pulls back just enough to look up at you, her lips glistening, and there’s a wicked glint in her eye that makes your stomach drop in the best way. “Hang tight,” she says, reaching toward the nightstand.

“What are you—oh my God,” you gasp as she pulls out a vibrator, the sleek little device gleaming like it was made for moments like this.

Paige winks, all confidence and mischief, as she turns it on, the low hum filling the room. “You trust me, right?”

You nod, because at this point, you’d probably trust her to lead you into a cult if it meant feeling like this.

“Good.” She leans back down, her mouth finding you again just as the vibrator presses against you, and the combination is so overwhelming it almost knocks the breath out of you.

Your hands fly to her hair, tugging as the vibrations send shocks of pleasure racing through your body, and her tongue works in tandem, teasing and relentless. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and you can feel yourself unraveling, piece by piece, with every calculated movement.

“Paige, I—” Your words dissolve into a moan that would make your ancestors weep, your thighs trembling as she doubles down, her grip on you tightening.

“That’s it,” she murmurs against you, her voice low and full of something that sounds dangerously like pride. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

And just like that, you do. The orgasm rips through you like a tidal wave, leaving you gasping and clutching at the sheets as your vision whites out. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you swear you hear yourself speaking in tongues.

Paige doesn’t stop until your legs are twitching, and even then, she presses one last kiss to your inner thigh before sitting back with the most self-satisfied grin you’ve ever seen.

“Did I just—” You pause, catching your breath, your voice hoarse. “Did I just have an exorcism?”

Paige laughs, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “If you did, I think I’m gonna need to start charging for holy services.”

“Fuck you,” you say weakly, though the way you’re still grinning probably ruins the effect.

She crawls back up to you, her body warm and solid as she settles next to you, her arm slinging over your waist. “Oh, you’re definitely going to want to do that next,” she teases, pressing a kiss to your temple.

And just like that, you’re laughing, still breathless and a little wrecked, but somehow more at ease than you’ve felt in ages. Paige grins down at you, smug but soft, and you think, maybe, that this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Sometimes the best love stories start with a malfunction.

Just don't tell Mike. He's smug enough already.

The End

806 notes · View notes

solaris-amethyst · 7 days ago

Text

🪻Sleepy adoration🪻

✨Pairing: San x gn!reader ✨Prompt: You're getting ready for bed and your boyfriend refuses to go to bed without you despite the fact that he can barely keep his eyes open. ✨Genre: fluff, slice of life, non idol au, drabble ✨Word count: 0.9k ☀️Authors note: I was hoping to update Cappuccinos and Peonies this weekend but I've managed to get sick so I decided to write this one shot instead which honestly was all I had the energy to sit and write😭🤧

It was dark outside, the only thing lighting up the dark abyss was the moon and the stars. It was a beautiful sight, not a cloud in sight meaning you could truly take your time to appreciate the beauty in front of you while brushing your teeth on the balcony.

The clock in your living room read 23:45 and you knew that you should get to bed soon but tiredness had simply not come to visit you yet unlike your boyfriend who was about one snore away from dreamland.

You had told him countless of times during the night that he could go to bed since he could barely keep his eyes open but he would always give you some excuse of wanting to finish the movie which was currently on tv or that he was simply resting his eyes but weren't actually tired yet.

You would argue with him that he was super tired but the pout and the puppy eyes he'd give you when you were about to start made you purse your lips and decide it was okay for him to be up so late today.

It was Saturday after all and both of you were off tomorrow.

You left the balcony to get to your bathroom so you could start washing your face. Passing your partner you could feel his tired eyes following you and after a few minutes into your nightly skincare routine you could hear the soft padding of your boyfriend making his way over to the bathroom.

He made a little noise at the brightness in the room when he entered and you couldn't help but chuckle as you saw in your peripheral vision that he sat down tiredly onto the toilet. You turned towards him as you patted gently the toner onto your face and there he was sitting there adorably in his big sleeping shirt and a pair of boxers on with a sleepy pout and a pair of eyes that were barely open.

"Oh Sannie." You said fighting back the smile that was growing on your face at the sight of him so sleepy.

"You could just go to bed and sleep, I'll come when I'm done." You tell him and that makes him grunt unhappily before he barely opens his eyes to look at you.

"Can't sleep without you." He mumbles tiredly, refusing to move from his seat.

"I might take a while tho?" You tell him hoping to coax him into bed now rather than having him wait for you but all he does is shake his head stubbornly before closing his eyes again sleepily.

If you were honest he reminded you of a picture you had seen online of someones golden retriever who had followed them in the middle of the night to the bathroom and were sitting there with tired eyes barely awake and tousled fur as they waited tiredly for their owner to be done and go back to bed together.

You giggled at the thought of the golden retriever and how similar this situation was with San. He truly looked like that tired doggo and you would be lying if you said you didn't like the visual of him right now.

As you moved on, taking your time with your serums and creams so everything had the time to absorb you finally heard the soft padding of your precious Byeol coming closer to the bathroom until she too entered the bathroom looking just as tired as her dad did.

She took one look at you tiredly before jumping up in Sans lap to sit there tiredly with him waiting for you.

This time you quickly took your phone and snapped a picture. They were both adorable. This would most likely end up being your favorite wallpaper for your phone.

"You're so beautiful like this." Your boyfriend suddenly mumbled and you looked at him surprised.

"Really?" You ask looking back in the mirror, your hair was kept back by a headband and you had just applied your moisturizer making you a little bit more shiny as you waited for it to absorb into your skin.

"Mhhm, the prettiest." He mumbles again looking at you with a sleepy but adoring smile.

"Thank you, you're incredibly beautiful as well Sannie." You tell him gratefully and he makes a pleased noise at that his smile widening whilst still sitting there with his eyes almost entirely closed.

"I love you."

"I love you too sleepy head." You walk up to him and give his cheek a little kiss. "Let's go to bed now."

You gently take his hand and he makes sure Byeol is secure in his arms before letting you lead him to your shared bedroom. The whole way there he's whispering how much he adores and loves you and it's so cute in your opinion how your boyfriend is just pouring out his loving thoughts to you.

Once you settle in your bed your boyfriend is quick to bring his arms around you as Byeol settles in her designated spot on the bed. He kisses the top of your head mumbling a goodnight before he is out like a light snoring lightly.

"Goodnight my love, sweet dreams." You mumble before closing your eyes as well, letting sleep succumb you as his arms pulls you slightly closer to him and soon you're off to dreamland as well.

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drag0nstardust · 2 years ago

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temtem's nuzlocke mode has a randomizer option

i hoped for the super random nuzlocke mode,, but i didn't think it'd actually get added!!!

this is everything i dreamed of thank you crema! Good Shit.

#in before i set my laptop on fire by playing it all day for a week after it drops #temtem #didn't look at any of the update news things until today #i have been eagerly waiting for this literally since beta launch #i even reset my several hundred hour character to do one of these #i failed and then beat everything but the last boss with one (1) saku #and a fuckload of healing items #oh and the general #couldn't beat him in kisiwa

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gotta-winwin · 1 month ago

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Can I request a full oneshot on that dino when accepting an award like shouting out his wife and watching the internet explode and the members reaction to him I NEED THIS it got me kicking my feet and giggling just by thinking this 🛐🛐🛐 HAHHAHAHA

btw I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS!! 😘

hehehe omg ofc! i was kicking my feet and giggling while writing this dino has no business looking THAT fine and bias wreaking me( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) thank you so much for both requesting and enjoying my work!

where's the trophy... he just comes running over to me <3

masterlist fic that prompted this oneshot

word count: 1.4k tw/cw: idol!dino x wife!reader, childhood friends to lovers, public shoutout, a whole lot of sap, seungkwan clowning dino a/n: writing this just makes me want to see svt with their s/o in real life (we know these boys aint single bro)

It's a quiet and unassuming day until you're reminded that today is the MAMA awards. It didn't help that the award show wasn't hosted in Korea this year, leading to you being stuck on your couch, hands quivering as the show began.

It had been a tough yet rewarding year for Chan and his group mates, and you had been lucky enough to see it all. You felt proud that even with the distance, you had always been the first person Chan would call for anything.

Headlining Glastonbury? He had shined brightly onstage and even brighter during your video call, where he took you through his day, making it feel like you had been with him every step of the way.

Tour? He was texting you in between songs, updating you on the tiniest things despite you scolding him that he needed to concentrate on the show. He just couldn't help it, his mind immediately drifting to you whenever something remotely interesting took place. Baby, DK's pants ripped onstage just now. He'd text you, shoulders still shaking from laughter. Coups hyung got barked at again. Whatever tidbit it was, Chan's name lighting up on your screen was a warm embrace compared to the lonely nights without him.

It'd all be worth it now, you thought, as you let out a gasp of joy when Seventeen's name was announced as Artist of the Year. Your hands were still shaking as you picked up your phone to record the moment.

Chan's face glowed on your tv screen as he walked up with his members to accept the award. You couldn't help but remember how he used to look - kidish, tiny, cute and juvenile. You recalled how drastic the change had been, as you both matured and grew together, leading you to realize how hot he looked - so built and handsome. Yet it was the bubbly glow that stayed with him despite aging that you loved the most.

"Thank you Carats!" Your husband raised the trophy proudly into the air. "You know...I was the only one who didn't get to speak when we won a daesang last year..."

You couldn't help but scoff endearingly at how sassy he could be while receiving an award you knew would make him sob to you later.

"Ever since our debut," He continued, staring at you through the tv screen. "My dream was to be an artist that would remain in history."

You could remember that, even now, years later.

"I'm going to make you a promise." 15 year old Chan had told you, on the rare chance he had gotten a break from training. He had taken the two of you to the park in between Pledis and your house.

"Promise me what?" You had replied, lips feinting a small smile as you watched his eager expression.

"That one day, I'm going to be an artist that will stay throughout history." His face was full of raw determination. "And that you'll be right there with me. On top of the world. One day, I'll be an artist you can be proud of."

Seems like he kept that promise.

"And those feelings..." He continued speaking into the mic. "Those feelings will continue as we go into the future with Carats." The crowed cheered at his words.

You could tell from his face that something was up. He had that mischievous look that would only come out whenever he was about to do something to tease you.

"And..." He took a pause, smiling at the dramatic effect it had caused. "Well..."

You half wanted to reach through the tv and smack him, as your heart raced in anticipation. You had ran through his speech with him on video call days ago. This wasn't part of it.

"I once made a promise to someone," He finally said aloud, and you knew immediately what he was doing, mouth dropping in both surprise and realization. "A long time ago, when we were both very young, I made a promise that I would become an artist she could be proud of." He smiled bashfully at the memory of both the moment and the person. "I also promised her that she would be there with me, on top of the world."

You had to sit down, your legs failing you.

"I kept my promise, didn't I?" He said into the mic, and you could tell he was speaking just to you. "I hope you're proud of everything I've done, my lovely, patient wife. Only you could've stuck by me for fourteen years." He added the last part teasingly. "I love you." He raised the trophy in his hands. "This- this is for you." Pausing, he corrected himself. "Well- for you and the members." He smiled sheepishly at the boys behind him. "It is our award."

Dino had gotten Seungcheol's approval minutes before the award show began, begging the leader to let him shout out his wife. "Please, please, please, hyung." He had pleaded, trying to convey that this was literally his lifelong dream. "I've always wanted to do that. Just drop a bomb into the world and walk off." Seungcheol could only sigh, staring at him with a mix of exasperation and amusement. He nodded, although he knew it would inevitably create a media frenzy for the company to clean up. "Go for it." He patted their maknae on the back. "Not my problem, not my mess."

Jeonghan had been kept blissfully in the dark until he was watching their acceptance speech live. The further Dino's speech went, the further his jaw dropped. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Dino was shouting out his wife on the stage at MAMA awards, accepting an AOTY award. Immediately after, he calls Dino up, scolding him for not telling him sooner and admitting it was a baller move.

Joshua had been busy trying to comfort a near-tears Seungcheol, Dino's speech barely registering in his ears. He's blissfully confused when the crowd goes bonkers, yelling into DK's ear to tell him what on earth happened. He's proud of Dino, acknowledging that their maknae has grown up to the point that the world now knows he has a whole wife.

All the way in China, Jun's watching the show live on his phone from his trailer on set. The connection is spotty, leaving his members in pixels and full of lag. Thankfully, the only clear part is Dino's speech, leaving Jun in deep shock and a little wounded. He wished he had been there for that.

Hoshi's loud ass gasp is the only thing fans can hear from the crowd other than their own screaming. It's clear on his face that he's flabbergasted - leading fans to speculate if he even knew Dino had a wife.

Wonwoo can't help but let out a hearty laugh once the weight of Dino's speech sinks into his bones. He knows the media and fans are going to have sooo much fun with this. He feels bad that you're now in the spotlight and hopes Dino got your permission beforehand...did he?

Very busy trying to will his tears away, Woozi's shocked out of his feels, tears evaporating at the sound of Dino's voice and the word wife. He's shocked, but happiness takes over when he realizes this will overshadow the fact that he's about to ball on global tv.

Minghao's just got that goofy shocked expression on his face as he registers the moment. He's smiling from ear to ear, basking in the joy that's radiating off of Dino. Who is he to stand in the way of Dino finally showing off his love?

Mingyu is over the moon. Having been your biggest supporter, he's elated you and Dino are finally going public. The fact that he's currently onstage accepting a daesang is completely thrown out of his mind, replaced with the joy of seeing Dino thrive.

Poor Woozi has DK's arms wrapped around him as if DK's trying to suffocate the man. He can't contain his excitement and joy at the reveal, accidentally using Woozi as a stress ball. He tackles Dino as they walk offstage, yelling about how CUTE that was and how lucky you are to have each other.

Seungkwan's stunned into complete silence. He's lowkey judging (just a little bit) at how insane Dino is acting right now - knowing this is bound to stir the pot online. He's the first one to tease Dino, going as far as clowning him during his own speech. "I once made a promise..." Seungkwan fails to keep a straight face as he clowned Dino's speech to his wife. "And I-" He's kicked off the mic by Dino before he can finish.

Vernon simply nods in approval as he watches Dino finish his speech. He respects the confidence and craziness to do such a thing, especially with how dating was basically a taboo for them as idols- and bros hard launching a whole ass wife!

#seventeen imagines #seventeen ot13 #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt #seventeen #svt fluff #idolverse #idol fic #idol x reader #dino x reader #seventeen reactions #seventeen fic #svt reactions #svt fanfic #svt fic #svt scenarios #requests

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missadangel · 1 month ago

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The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

XV. The Plan (+18, Smut, MDNI)

“Parcere proditori, proditio est innocenti.”

To spare the traitor is to betray the innocent.

Marcus, after leaving you in the poorhouse, made his way to Palatine Hill. He had a bad feeling about it and it was getting worse. It was tough for him to leave you each time. However, today's council was of greater importance than any that had preceded it. It might be the case that this could alter the course of Rome and his own fate.

He got the latest update from his soldiers before heading into the Domus Severiana. He had trust in the Praetorian guards at the gate and those in the courtyard, but with Geta's safety at stake, he couldn't be sure. Octavius met him in the courtyard and followed him into the armoury to help him put on his armour. The next step was to get Geta to the Curia Julia safely. He must do this on his own, with his most trusted soldiers. As a Roman general, Marcus was an expert in a variety of military strategies and tactics, with a particular focus on offensive operations. It was for this reason that he maintained a considerable military presence on the Field of Mars, prepared for any eventuality. They were ready to act on his orders. He had invested a great deal of time and effort in training them, with the aim of making them all well-raised soldiers and ensuring they were prepared to take action should the need arise. He was certain that he would eventually have to deal with the Praetorian Guard. However, since you came into his life, his priorities have shifted somewhat. He was no longer seeking to overthrow the Emperor, but rather to assist him in becoming a capable leader for Rome. Perhaps he was reluctant to witness further unrest and conflict in the city. He was willing to do whatever he could to ensure a brighter future for his own and for all Roman children.

Marcus put on his armour and armed himself with his sword before heading to the courtyard with Octavius. Geta and his mother, Julia, were there, too, with a few guards awaiting him. As soon as Geta saw them, he walked toward them.

"Acacius, where's my sister? Why didn't you bring her with you?" he asked, a little louder than necessary.

"She's somewhere safe, so there's no need to worry."

"That's nonsense! You should have brought her here with you. I don't think it's a good idea for her to stay outside the palace right now."

Marcus gave him a stern look. "So you're the one who ordered the guards to look for her everywhere?"

"Yes, I wasn't sure how Macrinus would take the council's urgent decision, so I thought maybe I could bring her here this way."

Marcus strode over to him, looking angry, which made Geta tense up.

"You knew she was with me."

"But I didn't know where you were, so I had to get them to look for you both. Roughly half of the guards were still on his side. I just wanted to make sure that my guard could find you before anyone else did."

Marcus tried to calm down, taking a deep breath. "This shows that the palace isn't a safe place either. Fortunately, she's safe now, my men are protecting her," he said then. “May I ask how the Council decided to meet today?” His eyes shifted to Julia, but she averted her gaze.

"It is difficult to convey the extent of my mother's efforts, but we have now gained the upper hand in the council," he said, winking at her. “It was unanimously agreed that an urgent meeting should be convened, today.”

Marcus was not interested in the specifics of her success. “I see.” He murmured.

“So let's proceed with the next steps and conclude this, shall we?”

Marcus nodded. "Indeed."

By noon, Geta and Julia's carriage had arrived at the Roman Forum. As they made their way through the streets, they were accompanied by other soldiers and guards who appeared to be loyal to Geta for the time being. The members of the Senate were already assembled in the Curia Julia. While Geta and Julia proceeded up the stairs, Marcus followed at a distance, taking care to observe his surroundings. However, the issue was not external, but rather within the Council chamber itself. Some of the Council members were absent, and it was not difficult to discern which ones. The other members expressed their concerns about their absence, and Geta was insistent on commencing the session. However, this was contrary to the law. Therefore, they decided to wait, but this was about to exacerbate the situation further. Marcus was concerned that this endless waiting time might be a sign of something bad.

‘What is this place? Where are you taking me?’ you asked Macrinus. You followed him through narrow streets and then through a tunneled passage into a large building.

"You will see it soon enough, my lady." He replied confidently.

You didn't want to come to this strange place with that bastard, but you had no choice. He had his plans for today, no doubt about it. You soon passed through the stone walls that resembled those under the Colosseum and observed a group of men. They were all members of the Senate, and you knew them at once by their white togas.

"What's the meaning of this?" Your voice was loud.

Macrinus ignored you, and the members of the Senate looked at you with a hint of hesitation.

"You really brought her," said one of them.

"I always get what I want, consul. You should have known this by now." Macrinus grinned then clasped his hands. "Now that we have the princess, we shall move on to the next stage."

"Consul Macrinus, I'm not entirely convinced if that's the best course of action. I think it is unwise to abduct General Acasius' wife, the princess, and force them to cooperate." One of them said.

"Council must have met by now. Geta's guards will be looking for us."

"And do not forget the Acacius's soldiers!"

"Cease the complaining!" Macrinus yelled at them. "Why can't you see the opportunity that I see? They can't start the session without us, yet they can't make a decision either. And as for Geta, he is not like Caracalla." He turned towards you. "He values his sister more than you realise.” Then looked at them once again. "So, Acacius will bring us Geta with his own hands and hand him over, and I will kill him. This will make my path to the throne. Then we'll all win. See? It's straightforward. There's no need to complain like old ladies, is there?”

"You'll all be punished for this!" You shouted. “You'll lose your statues, your title, everything you have! Release me at once, I'm warning you!"

The consuls exchanged glances, and Macrinus became visibly upset and approached and grabbed your arm.

"I see you've been very talkative since I last saw you, Aurelia. However, you're wasting your breath. I'll take your brother's life eventually and become an emperor.”

"It will never happen!" You barked. He touched your hair, and you turned your head to the other side in disgust. "You will witness it. I will make sure of that." He looked at the guards. "Take the princess away and lock her up."

"Let go of me!" You resisted, struggling. But the guards ignored you.

It didn't seem like an easy situation to get out of this time. Your chest tightened as you considered the possibility that he might win. If that were to happen, it would undoubtedly mean losing everything. It would be disastrous.

You descended the stone stairs and were taken aback by what you saw. There were cells with iron bars, like a dungeon. You stopped and looked at the guards.

“Please keep walking, my lady.” His tone was stern.

When you refused, the guards looked at each other and one of them grabbed your arm.

"'Let go of my arm!" You yelled, trying to fight back but to no avail. The other one opened the door to one of the cells and they forced you inside.

"I am your princess! You can't do this! Can't you hear me?"

They kept ignoring you, and locked the cell. You gripped the bars.

"Please, don't do this, let me out! Please!" Your voice was pleading this time, but it seemed to have no effect on them. One of them stood by the bars and the other near the stairs. You gave up begging, turned your back on them, and looked into the cell. It was almost the filthiest place you had ever been. The stone walls looked like weathered rock. The floor was dirty, dusty and filthy. You were so tired, that your feet were about to betray you, but you had no intention of sitting down or leaning against the wall, so you decided to cross your arms and just wait. You had never felt so helpless, not even when you were running away from Flavius in the woods. There was nothing more horrible than having your freedom taken away, the feeling of being trapped made your chest ache.

Before long, you heard footsteps echoing through the hall. You looked in that direction and saw the guards nodding to Macrinus. He had his usual self-assured look on his face, bowing respectfully to you as if he had done nothing wrong.

You went over to the iron bars. “Get me out of here at once!’

He gave a little smirk. “I'm really sorry about the poor facilities, my lady, but I am a little unsure that you'd behave yourself. After all, you have a very stubborn and determined temperament.”

You pursed your lips. “What's this place anyway? What gives you the right to lock me in here?”

Macrinus put his hands on the iron bars and observed as if he were seeing them for the first time. “This is where the gladiators stay. They get their first training at this school before heading to the Colosseum."

"Do I look like a gladiator to you?"

Macrinus laughed. "Of course not, my lady. Let's just say I'm playing it safe."

"Locking me up won't convince me of anything."

"Is that so? Hmm, maybe not you, but I think I could easily persuade your brother or your husband. They both care a lot about you after all."

You took a step towards him. "What exactly are you planning? As soon as you ascend to the throne, you will exile my husband, declare our marriage null and void, and force me to marry you?”

“More or less, yes.”

"That's not going to happen! I'm never going to marry you, not in this life, or the next!" Your voice bounced off the cold stone walls with a ringing sound.

Macrinus seemed serious this time. "Then you'll be stuck under home detention for the rest of your life. There won't be a general husband coming to your rescue, nor a foolish brother in hopeless in love with you either."

"Shut your damn mouth!" Your body was shaking with anger.

"I'm giving you one last chance, Aurelia. Think carefully. Once Geta's gone, I'll be the new emperor. And then you'll do what I want." Macrinus put his hands on the bars just above yours. "'I thought it would be better to exile Acacius for his heroism, so that would not provoke a public outrage, but if you try my patience and resist, I will make you watch him die in the Colosseum. I swear I will."

You swallowed, even the thought was enough to make your heart ache. "I am carrying his child, how can you be so heartless, so damned?”

"A child?” He laughed. “As a medicus I'm sure you can find ways to get rid of that.”

"Damn you!" You reached through the bars to hit him in the face, but he grabbed your hand. He made you put your hand on his collar. There was a marking on his chest.

"Take a look at this! Do you know what this is? It's your father's mark!"

You observed the mark. "Were you a slave?"

Macrinus released your hand and you pulled it back.

"I was, during your father's time, but I managed to get into the senate. He was a strong and powerful man, your father. A soldier, a dictator, and a tough opponent. I learned a lot from him, Aurelia. But I still couldn't gain his trust, no matter how hard I tried. Fortunately, his sons weren't like him." He pointed his finger at you. "You're more like your father than they are. I realised the first time I saw you in Egypt. Look, no matter how much you refuse, you can't escape what's coming. I will get what I deserve."

"No, that will never happen. You will lose. No one will remember you."

This time he sounded angry. "I made you a princess! You got your title back thanks to me! How about a little gratitude?”

"I was planning to come here anyway. Vicius and I had been planning to travel to Rome together to find my true family. If circumstances had been different the rebellion hadn't broken out, and the Roman soldiers hadn't come to put it down. That night..." You took a moment to collect your thoughts. Despite the pain that these memories still evoke, you have learned to embrace them because they have led you to meet Marcus. "He had already told me everything, except who my father was. We were going to open the letter together as soon as we arrived in Rome. You only hastened the process.”

"Vicius," he said, sounding annoyed. He then took a deep breath. "I've had some success in this process, but also had a few failures, and that man is one of them. If he'd handed you over to me then, before Geta and Caracalla ascended the throne, things might be different now."

His disrespect for Vicius was unacceptable and made you even angrier.

"What about Gaius? Isn't he also a great failure of yours?"

"Well, not entirely. If he hadn't taken your father's letter to him as an offer to marry you, who knows, he might still be alive now. He was the one who caused his own death. It's in my interest for him to die if there's any chance of him ascending to the throne." He smiled, but then his face turned angry again. "But he's not the biggest failure or obstacle." He said as he approached the bars, his face was close enough to touch the surface of the iron bars. "Acacius. He's the biggest obstacle that needs to be removed from my path, and I'm going to make sure that I do."

You brought your face closer to his. "My husband, Acacius, will be the end of you. You can be sure of that.”

He put a hand to his chin as if he was thinking. "I am doubt about that Aurelia. Because you see, soon, he will be preoccupied with bringing Geta to me. And once he does, I will take your brother's life and that will be the end of your husband as well." He grinned. "My plan is working perfectly and I will get what I want."

"He is not stupid. He will not fall into your trap.”

“He has no choice. He'll do anything to get you back, I know that."

You knew he was right and you hated it.

"Enough talk. Time to take action." He turned towards the guard. "If there's any trouble, kill her."

You swallowed, trying to stay calm. He then bowed his head to you and headed towards the stairs.

As time passed, the atmosphere in the Curia Julia became increasingly tense. Marcus was at breaking point, and Geta was no different. As Octavius rushed into the hall, almost tripping on the stairs, everyone looked at him with curiosity.

"Sir, you need to come outside," he said to Marcus, keeping his voice low.

"Is something wrong?"

Geta stood up and walked towards them.

"What's going on?"

Octavius’ face was grave as he was about to give them bad news. He looked at the councilors and then at his general. "Sir, Macrinus sent a guard to speak with you..." Octavius looked down in distress.

Marcus frowned, wondering if he was about to hear what he feared most.

"What does he want? Speak at once!" Geta shouted.

Julia tried to calm the council members.

"Princess Aurelia..." Octavius exhaled a deep breath. "Macrinus has abducted her-"

Without even thinking, Marcus stormed to the entrance to leave the hall. Geta followed him, but his mother grabbed his arm.

"Your Majesty! You must stay here-"

"You do that!" he said, roughly pulling his arm away from her.

Marcus rushed down the stairs and, noticing the guard Octavius had pointed at, grabbed his sword and held it to the man's throat. The guard let out a little gasp. "Tell me where she is now!' He roared.

All the soldiers and guards tensed and gripped the hilt of their swords.

"General Acacius, Sir Macrinus is waiting for you at his villa." He said, out of breath, struggling to get the words out. "He also said that he wants you to bring Emperor Geta with you."

“How dare he summon me like this?” Geta shouted. "Acacius, round up your men, and let's move to take him out now, shall we?"

The soldiers looked at their general. Seizing the opportunity of Marcus' thoughtful demeanor, Macrinus' guard took a step back.

"Sir Macrinus only wants the general and Emperor Geta." He stated arrogantly. "If you care about the Princess, you'd better do as-”

Suddenly a schwing sound was heard and Octavius's sword severed his jugular, and he collapsed, tumbling down the stairs and staining the marble steps with his blood. They all watched him die with a deadpan expression.

"Why wait? We must leave now Acacius," Geta touched his shoulder.

Marcus shook his head. “No, he'll kill you the moment I take you there, I can't let it.”

"I'm flattered, general, but this is your wife we're talking about, my sister."

Marcus sheathed his sword. "I am aware, but we must act wisely. If we fall into his trap, it will be the end of us all, which is exactly what he wants us to do."

"So we'll just leave Aurelia in his filthy hands?"

Marcus gave him a deadly look. "Don't you dare speak like you care more about my wife than I do!"

"Then act like you do!" Geta barked.

“General Acacius! Emperor Geta!”

They both turned to face the man calling to them. A man in a black cloak, familiar to Marcus, came up the stairs and approached them. The soldiers tensed, but Marcus gestured to them that it was all right.

"Who the hell are you?" Geta asked, squinting at the man.

"I am Lextus, Your Majesty," the man said, bowing. He looked at Marcus and then back at Geta. "I have something very important to tell you, both of you."

"Man of yours?" Geta asked Marcus.

"No, he is a relative of yours, from Leptis Magna, didn't your mother tell you?"

Geta gave him a dirty look.

"Speak up, what's so important?" Marcus asked.

"We've been tracking Macrinus for a while and we know where he is."

"If that's what you wanted to say, you've come in vain," Geta said, pointing to the guard's lifeless body lying at the bottom of the stairs.. "That cunt Macrinus is already waiting for us to go to him."

"It's a trap, he's luring you into it, Your Majesty. The Lady Aurelia is not with him, she is elsewhere," he said, and as soon as he mentioned your name, Marcus and Geta's eyes locked on him. "We know where he's keeping her, that's what I came here to tell you."

Marcus grabbed him by the collar of his cloak. "How do you know? When did you see her? Speak at once!"

"The General asked you a question!" Geta demanded.

Lexus hadn't expected either of them to react this way, he had to take a breath to speak. "Praetorians with Macrinus' lead intercepted Lady Aurelia's carriage in the alleyway. We followed the carriage, which took us straight to Ludus Magnus. We saw Lady Aurelia enter with the guards, and I have men stationed there to keep an eye on things. We are unsure why, but we know some consuls are there."

Geta looked at Marcus. "Why would he take her to the damn gladiator training school? What is he trying to do?"

"Tell me, is Macrinus still there or in his villa?" Marcus demanded.

"He left a few hours ago, we believe he went to there."

"We need to get to Aurelia now!" Geta said.

"The guards will be watching us. If we head there now, they'll inform him. Or even worse, they might hurt her before we get there." Marcus said through clenched teeth.

"What are we going to do then?"

Marcus thought for a moment. He had to think fast and come up with a plan, but he wasn't sure what to do.

It was time to think strategically and take action. As a soldier and general, he was an expert in this. "We need to make some time," he muttered.

"So let's not waste, standing here," Geta whined, adjusting his crown.

Watching him, a plan came to Marcus' mind. "Your Majesty, we must take you to Palatine Hill immediately."

"Are you mad? Macrinus's men are all over the place. Didn't you just say so yourself?”

Marcus exhaled. “That's why we have to leave now. I'm asking you to trust me.”

Geta narrowed his eyes. "In the past, I wouldn't have trusted you, but now I think I do."

"You don't have much choice, after all," Marcus teased as they hurried down the stairs together.

Once Geta was in the carriage, Marcus called Aris over. "Head to the Field of Mars right away and let them know I've ordered the troops to assemble around Macrinus' villa. Try to be as stealthy as you can."

"Yes, sir." He said and quickly walked in the opposite direction.

"The rest of you, come with me," Marcus said. They all nodded and got on their horses.

Geta called out to him as the carriage was moving. "Acacius, I hope you know what you're doing!"

He still didn't fully trust the other guards accompanying Geta, so he didn't want to tell him his plan yet.

"I need both your patience and your trust, Your Majesty."

"You've got both as long as you save my sister.”

Marcus felt his heart beating faster with worry. He really wanted to come and get you out of there as soon as possible. But he had to think carefully. He knew that if he acted without thinking things through, he might lose you. Besides, he had to be absolutely sure that he got Macrinus this time too.

The guards at Palatine Hill were surprised to see the carriage coming earlier than expected. Geta stepped into the courtyard with Marcus. He tried to take Geta away from the guards, however, two of them came over to them.

"General, we want to help you. We are loyal to the emperor Geta, you can trust us."

Marcus seemed unsure.

"They are in a dilemma because their commander has not yet been chosen, Acacius. Macrinus' side and mine." Geta explained.

"Yes, there are others outside who are on Macrinus' side, sir. But I'm not, and my team here are all loyal to you, highness.”

"You were always so keen to be a Praetorian," Marcus said, looking at the guard. He realised that he was his childhood friend.

"Do you remember me? I thought you might have forgotten." He gave a little smile.

"Yes, you weren't eager to join the army, so I didn't hassle you about it too much."

"I wanted to serve the emperor, General Acacius."

"I see," said Marcus, smiling back.

"I was really proud when I saw you become a general of Rome, you know."

Marcus nodded his thanks.

"That's very touching gentleman, but can you tell us what to do now, our glorious general?" Geta said impatiently.

"Cato!" Marcus called him to his side.

He came running at once. "Sir!"

Marcus put his hand on his shoulder. "We need your help."

Geta frowned. "Isn't that your squire? How can he help us?"

Marcus smiled confidently. "He has the same hair colour and the same size as you, your majesty."

"Excuse me?”

"We're going to confuse them. Could you take off your clothes and give them to Cato?"

Geta opened his eyes wide in surprise. "What did you just say? Tell me you are joking!"

Geta wasn't the only one taken aback. Cato and Octavius exchanged glances, clearly surprised.

Marcus let out a sigh. "He'll take your place, so we won't put you in danger."

"So this is your master plan, Acacius? You seem to have forgotten how clever that cunt is. Sooner or later, he'll figure out that your squire doesn't look handsome as I do." He said smugly.

"It's not really a concern," Marcus said, grasping Cato's arm. "This buys us some time, at least. Until I get the Aurelia out of there."

They walked together to Geta's chamber. Geta grumbled the whole way but seemed to be convinced at last. Cato looked a bit out of place in the emperor's clothes. He glanced at them hesitantly. Marcus couldn't help but grin when he saw him in Geta's attire. Geta sized him up.

"Ugh, you look like another evil twin of mine! That is all I need!”

"Forgive me, Your Majesty." Cato said, bowing his head.

Marcus held out his hand to Geta. "Your Majesty, can you give me your crown too?"

"Gods above! This is disrespectful and unacceptable, Acacius!"

Marcus rolled his eyes. "It's just a symbol, an item. It has no significance. You don't need the crown to prove that you are an emperor, do you?"

“Huh, you just enjoy lecturing me, don't you?" Geta pursed his lips.

"We're running out of time here."

"Fine!" He gave his crown to him. Cato held his breath as Marcus placed the crown on his head.

"Hmph, if this won't work, I swear on Vesta's fire that I will punish you Acacius."

Marcus smirked in response.

Geta tugged fabric of his gown which made him look like a commoner. '"Whatever, let's get this done as soon as possible and then I shall drink wine until I get drunk so I can forget all about it." He refused to look at their faces as he left his chamber.

As they descended the stairs, Marcus touched Cato on the shoulder. "Keep your face hidden at all costs. Even if they can't see it from a distance, there's still a risk."

"I'll do my best, general."

Marcus tapped his back. "May the Gods be on our side."

And as they approached the entrance to the great courtyard, they put their plan into action.

"Your Majesty, please," Marcus gestured to Geta.

Geta pursed his lips and involuntarily pulled the deep black cloak further up over his head. The gate opened and Marcus approached the carriage with Cato who was in the Emperor's toga, covering his face as naturally as possible. Cato struggled and pretended to resist him. The guards waiting outside, watching them, did not seem to suspect anything. Marcus swiftly pushed Cato into the carriage and told the coachman to start the horses. He then turned to the guards.

"Lead the way!" He said to them. They kicked their horses toward in front of the carriage. Marcus and the others got on their own horses, following the carriage from behind.

The other guards, those who had stayed behind in the palace to protect the real emperor Geta, put on their cloaks over their armour. They were going to take him back to Curia Julia in secret. It was already pretty quiet, as everyone else had left to accompany the false emperor. As per the plan, Marcus must turn his horse around halfway down the road and head for the Domus Vectiliana (Ludus Magnus).

After all, they were acting as if they didn't know where you were, and leading Geta straight into Macrinus' hands which it was not. So the plan was working perfectly. A little later, Marcus glanced at Octavius, and turned his horse round, making the guards surprised. The carriage kept going forward. They looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Their leader cursed and called out to some of them.

"Go after the general! The others stay with me!”

Marcus looked back over his shoulder at the guards who were chasing him as he rode his horse at a gallop. There were five of them. He needed to get rid of them without attracting attention.

"Come on!" He challenged them, drew his sword and turned his horse. He had one of them in his sights. He aimed at his leg and lunged before he could draw his sword, and the man let out a groan and fell off his horse. They were getting closer to the streets.The others yelled and drew their swords, rushing to attack Marcus but he was quick to dodge the attacks of two of them and managed to knock them off their horses. He rode his horse into the alleys to get rid of the rest. People screamed and ran to get out of the way to avoid being crushed by the horses.

"Where the hell is he heading to?" One of them asked the other.

"I think he found out where the princess is! Go there and warn the others before he gets there!”

As soon as they said that, they were both struck down by arrows from nowhere and fell to the ground. Marcus turned and saw Lexus and his men. He stopped his horse and nodded his thanks. Then, without wasting any time, he ordered the curious people out of the way and kicked his horse forward again. Since there was no obstacle in his way, he should be heading to get to you now.

The minutes and hours passed by, and the pain in your legs became increasingly difficult to bear. And you gave up. As you sat on the floor in the cold, smelly, dirty cell, you played with the wedding ring on your finger. Your mind was racing with questions. Why wasn't anyone coming? Or is it too late for everything now? Marcus, Geta... Your heart ached. It was torture, waiting there helplessly, hoping for rescue desperately, unable to do anything. You suddenly felt a pressure under your belly, right where your womb was. You put your hands right on it.

"Ssshh, calm down, my little one. I know you've been through a lot, but hang in there a little longer, please. Your father will come to save us, I promise you. Take his strength, take his courage and hold on. Our little miracle. We will always love you and protect you. So please try to hang in there.”

All of a sudden, a few shouts and the sound of swords clashing came from upstairs. The guards immediately tensed up and gripped the hilts of their swords. You jumped to your feet, unlike them, you felt excitement. Your heart was filled with hope. The sound of the iron gate opening loudly reverberated off the stone walls, and a moment later you saw a guard rolling down the stairs with the deafening sound of his iron armour ringing in your ears. The guards immediately drew their swords at someone on the stairs. First, you heard his angry roar and then Marcus himself rushed down the stairs, kicked one of the guards, and pushed him against the wall. The other swung his sword at him, Marcus crouched and lunged and cut his leg.

"Marcus!" You called out to him cheerfully.

He looked at you and smiled, but the other guard lunged at him, waving his sword.

"Marcus look out!" You pointed at him.

He managed to avoid the lunge at the last moment and hit his opponent in the back with the handle of his sword, causing him to stumble. As he lunged at him again, Marcus drew his pugio and knocked his sword out of his hand with both sword and pugio. And with a really neat move, he cut his neck. The stone walls were covered in a red, rusty-smelling liquid. You ran over to the iron bars and grabbed them. Marcus wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand and looked at you. He looked at you with an intense gaze, his brown eyes sparkling.

"My lady." He said in a soft, velvety voice. "Forgive me for being late." He reached his hand through the bars to touch your face. "How could he imprison you in such a vile place? Did he hurt you?"

You grasped his hand with both of yours and kissed it. "No, I'm alright, don't worry." You forced a smile.

"How can I not, my love? My beloved. My soul. My breath." He then let out a sigh of relief, stroking your chin with his thumb. "Thank the Gods I found you safe and sound." He then gripped the iron bars and jerked them angrily, cursing.

"That man has the key," you said, pointing to one of the guards lying on the floor. Marcus went to him, bent down, and turned his lifeless body to check.

"Geta? Is he okay?”

"He is for now. We don't have much time, though. We need to get out of here now." He took the keys from the man and approached you. He unlocked the cell, setting you free. You took a step towards him and reached out to hug him.

"My lady, there is some blood on me-" You wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his chest. "...and I'm not very clean." He finished his sentence with a murmur.

"I don't care." You said, closing your eyes and hugging him tighter. You ignored the blood smearing your cheek from his armour and the smell of it.

He lifted his hand to touch your hair, but his hand was covered in blood. He clenched his hand into a fist and wrapped his arm around you, inhaling your scent without touching you. He then pulled back.

"Aurelia, we have to leave, now." His voice was firm.

You nodded and walked towards the stairs while avoiding stepping in the puddle of blood on the ground. Marcus noticed your nervousness and wrapped his arms around you, lifting you into his lap. You looked at his face as he walked up the stairs with you in his arms. He looked very serious and stern, and you could guess what he was feeling, and what he was thinking. It must have been hard for him to find you in a situation where he almost lost you somehow, and to fight to make sure that didn't happen. To kill someone every time, to have blood on his hands. But for Marcus, finding you safe and sound was enough, he didn't care about the rest. He walked through the countless guards lying lifeless on the ground and carried you out in his arms. You were angry that he had to kill them because of Macrinus. It was all his fault, so many people had died because of him so far. Marcus lowered you to the ground beside his horse.

"It may be a bit of a rough ride, but try to hold on, will you?"

You nodded. "I can manage.”

He smiled and moved the saddle back a little so you could sit on it. He then settled in front of you. You put your arms around his waist. Marcus took hold of your arms around him. "Hold on tighter, princess."

Even though you couldn't see his face, you knew he was smiling. He grabbed the horse's reins and kicked his horse forward. You wrapped your arms around him as tightly as you could. With each jolt, your cheek bumped against his back.

"Where are we heading now?" You asked.

As you passed the Colosseum, you noticed the sun was setting over the hills ahead.

"First, I'll take you to the Curia Julia."

You tilted your head to get a better look at his face. "I'm not coming with you?"

He raised an eyebrow and looked at you out of the corner of his eye. "No, Aurelia, I've got a few platoons of my soldiers heading to the area around Macrinus' villa. We need to get ready for the upcoming skirmish."

"You're going to fight the Praetorian Guards?"

He sighed, “I hope not. But if it's necessary to finish off Macrinus, yes.”

You swallowed, nothing was over yet. "Why Curia Julia?"

"Geta is there with the other consuls. The rest of the guards will be guarding them. It's the safest place for you right now.”

Marcus pulled up his horse near the stairs of the Curia Julia. He dismounted and then led you down. A few of the guards came over and nodded at you.

"If there's any trouble, make sure you keep Princess Aurelia and Emperor Geta safe." He spoke to one of them in a firm tone.

"We shall protect them with our lives, general! You just finish him off!" The man put his hand on his chest. "Vae victis.”

Marcus replied. "Vae victis." Then he mounted his horse quickly and looked at you.

"Come back safely!" You said, looking at him.

He nodded and turned his horse around, kicking it forward. You watched him leave until he was out of sight.

"This way, my lady," the guard said.

You felt abandoned as you climbed the stairs with him. Soon you heard a familiar voice.

"Sister!" You looked towards Geta's voice and your eyes widened in surprise. He was wearing a black cloak over regular attire. And what's more, he was in an official building like the Curia Julia with it.

He hugged you and pulled back to look at you. "I was so worried about you, are you alright?"

You nodded your head, it was a little strange to see him like this. "What happened to your fancy toga and crown?"

"Your husband's ingenious plan." He said, rolling his eyes. "Come, rest inside. Your face is as white as marble." He put his arm around you and pulled you inside.

As dusk fell, Marcus was urging his horse to a rapid pace, hastening towards Macrinus' villa. What he saw coming down the hill wasn't quite what he'd expected. His troops had already arrived and it was clear that a battle had taken place and probably been won, but Macrinus was nowhere to be seen.

"General!" One of the soldiers recognised him.

Marcus looked around and noticed Cato in the distance, who was wounded near the carriage ahead. Felix and Aris came over to him. "What the hell happened?" He asked them.

"Sir, the plan worked, but Macrinus wounded Cato and then they attacked us. We managed to kill them all, but unfortunately, he escaped and we couldn't stop him."

"How do you mean he escaped?" Marcus’ voice was like a roar.

"Octavius and a few soldiers went after him, sir."

"Which way did they go?"

"That way," Aris said, pointing down the hill.

"I'll go after them. All of you gather around at once. Take the wounded ones to the Field of Mars."

"Sir, what about them?"

Marcus looked in the direction he was pointing and saw the members of the senate who were loyal to Macrinus. They were looking at him with a look of concern on their faces.

"The rest of you, take them to the Roman Forum and wait there for my arrival." He said, looking at them from a distance. "Can you confirm that the other troops are still controlling the entrances and exits to the city?"

"Yes, sir. The city is currently sealed off."

"Good." He said, pulling on the reins of his horse, which reared up with a loud neigh. "Make them assemble at once and get moving!" He commanded.

As he rode, perhaps faster than he had ever ridden before, determined to catch Macrinus at any cost, he realised that he missed his horse, Dromos. He promised himself that when all this was over, he would return home and see his old friend again. And then he could go out riding with you again. However, at the moment, he just had to focus on finding and getting rid of the source of all his recent problems. Before long, he heard the sound of swords clashing, so he rode towards it. He saw his soldiers and the guards were fighting, but they seemed to be getting along.

"Octavius is following him, sir!" a soldier pointed ahead. Then he killed the guard he was fighting, and he jumped on his horse to follow his general. The other one did the same too.

Marcus was soon excited to realise that Octavius was running after Macrinus on foot. He was very close. Marcus called out to the soldiers behind him.

"Block his way!”

They did as he said and rode their horses around either side of Macrinus, to block him from going any further. He realised this and started running backwards. Marcus seized the chance and leaped off his horse to capture him. They ended up rolling on the ground together. Macrinus tried to fight back, but he was so tired that he gave up and collapsed, taking a few punches to the face from Marcus in the process.

The others walked towards their General. All of them stared down at the panting, treacherous, sixty-year-old dark-skinned man. Marcus drew his sword, Macrinus cursed, crawled back. But Marcus did something that even surprised himself. He thrust his sword into the ground right next to Macrinus.

Octavius touched his shoulder, "Sir." There were a lot of questions in his tone.

‘We're heading to the Roman Forum. Bring him along."

The soldiers looked at each other, confused.

"But sir..." Octavius protested.

"This cunt must be punished by the emperor Geta himself."

Macrinus gave a hysterical laugh, but it was clear he was upset with that decision.

"You don't deserve a painless death," he said, looking at him. "I'm sure the emperor has far more creative ideas for you."

The atmosphere in the Curia Julia was palpably tense, with everyone visibly anxious and on the brink of exhaustion. The noise was unbearable and it was giving you a headache. But Geta was determined. He had no intention of sending anyone home yet. This will be solved today, he said. He made you sit in the imperial seat that belonged to Caracalla, since you were exhausted, you didn't object, despite Julia's glare. Furthermore, it was clear that the Consuls had other matters to discuss, and did not care the fact that you were sitting there. Fortunately the murmuring of the crowd was soon heard outside, and everyone turned their heads in the direction of the footsteps approaching the hall.

Your heart pounded with both excitement and nervousness. You felt immense relief when you saw Marcus a short while later. Geta leapt to his feet and looked at him, his eyes wide open. Since you focused on Marcus' face and only later realised who he had brought to the middle of the great hall. When Macrinus fell to his knees on the floor, the consuls first looked at him in astonishment and then started shouting.

"Traitor!"

"He should be beheaded!"

"Throw him from Tarpeian Rock!"

Geta raised his hand and they all fell silent. You and Marcus looked at each other from a distance, wondering why he hadn't killed him. However, he was in a good mood and you were grateful to finally see his sincere smile.

"General Acacius." Geta called him. "On behalf of the Roman people, I am grateful to you for capturing this traitor and bringing him before me, before the Council. He will be judged here, before Roman law, and his final sentence will be given. The council is now in session."

"Your Majesty," someone stated. "I am afraid a council session is not yet feasible in these circumstances. Since your crown is absent and the attire you are wearing is not fit for this occasion. Furthermore, I must point out that it is inappropriate for two women to be present at this time. I demand that the necessary conditions be imposed."

And they all murmured, some agreeing and some objecting.

"Denied!" Geta said firmly. The man frowned and sat down. "Even without my crown, my true identity remains unchanged. Also, the women you are referring to are my mother, your empress, and my sister, your Princess, Aurelia."

Marcus looked at him with a confident half-smile. You could see the pride in his look.

Geta continued. "If there are no other ridiculous objections I will continue. You have all been waiting here all morning, so I will formalise things for the sake of Rome before I tire you out any further."

He silenced the murmurs and continued. His speech took everyone by surprise, including you. At the end of the session, the verdict was reached: Caracalla was declared a tyrant, and all his decrees, orders, wills, and other belongings were declared null and void. Macrinus tried to object several times, but no one dared to stand up for him or support him. Now it was his turn to be punished.

"He was really into training these gladiators and investing in them. Then I'd like to give him a fitting punishment." Geta said with a grin. Then he turned to him. "You will be thrown into the Colosseum, along with the rest of your followers. Your fate will be decided by the gods and the people of Rome." He looked at the guards. "Now get him out of my sight, I don't want to see his ugly face anymore."

Ignoring the pleas of the councilors who had helped Macrinus, Geta closed the session and everyone began to murmur once more. He came over to you, a big grin on his face.

"I can't wait to see that wretched Macrinus in the Colosseum tomorrow!"

You smiled in response. "You did well, brother."

He smiled widely. Marcus approached you both. Geta looked at him.

"Acacius, I'm surprised you didn't kill him, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad. It'll be fun tomorrow!" He said, clapping his hands. He winked at you and then went over to his mother.

You looked at Marcus. "I think it's finally over now. We can rest easy, can't we?"

"Yes, my lady," he said, holding your hand. "It's over now.”

You just stared at each other for a while, speaking through your eyes. The councilors left the hall, murmuring, while Geta and his mother had a brief argument. All of this faded into the background for you.

"Looks like we'll be spending another night on Palatine Hill."

Marcus smirked. "One last night. Then tomorrow we'll be heading back to the villa, our home."

You smiled. "Thank the Gods. I miss our home so much."

"I know, me too. Shall we leave now? I need a good bath, and as my wife, you can help me, can't you?" He smirked.

You lifted your head to whisper in his ear. "Anything you wish, my love.”

You arrived at Domus Severiana in the late afternoon. As soon as you stepped into the courtyard, you ordered the slaves to prepare the balneum for you two.

The stone walls of the balneum were softly caressed by the soothing steam of the hot water, while a variety of flowers floated on the surface, their sweet scent creating a tranquil atmosphere in this spacious bath house. Marcus was in the water, his head thrown back and his eyes closed. You were right behind him, running your slender fingers over his flesh, rubbing his arms and shoulders, helping him to recover from the fatigue of the day.

"Your healing touch has refreshed my body and soul," he murmured. Then he took your hand and brought it to his lips, his collarbone, his chest, running it all over his body. Then he turned towards you, his movement causing some of the water to spill over. You swallowed as his eyes traveled over your naked body, your heart racing with excitement. He reached out for you, grabbed you around the waist, and pulled you into the water. "Now it's my turn to touch you.”

This time the water overflowed, and a lot of the flowers on the surface ended up floating away.

You giggled as Marcus ran his lips along your neck to your collarbone. "You meant to touch me with your lips? But I am in the water, so how are you going to touch the rest of my body I wonder?" You asked playfully.

"I sense a challenge." He murmured, his warm breath brushing against your collarbone. "I shall accept." He then grabbed your hips and lifted you, placing you on his shoulders. His head was between your thighs, your heels touched his back. You moaned with pleasure and laughed as his lips touched your folds. Your back arched instinctively as you felt his tongue in your most sensitive spot. You gripped his grey hair tightly with your fingers.

"Marcus! I am going to- ow!"

"Isn't it too soon, my love?"

You looked down at his face and saw that he was grinning.

"No, I meant to say that I'm going to fall, not come.”

He pulled his head back, supported your back with one hand and lowered you down onto the edge of the tub. "I've been a bit busy, I must have misheard." He grinned again. Without getting out of the water, he pulled you closer and continued where he left off. He stuck his marvellous tongue out and licked your most sensitive spot. You gasped and hitched your legs around his head, drawing him closer. He rolled his tongue up and down as he used his hand to probe at your lower lips. His beard tickled you as your breathing quickened. Adrenaline flooded your body as your pulled on his hair, bringing him closer, as he sucked and consumed you mercilessly. You bucked into him and he responded in turn with a little nip. You threw your head back as you gasped once more, feeling like you were losing your mind. Shaking, sweating, your entire body pulsed with pleasure as you clamped your legs around him.

You moaned loudly. "I am definitely coming this time!"

"Come for me, my love. Let me taste you.”

And immediately after his command, you came with a loud moan. Marcus kissed your belly and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you into the water. He kissed you on the lips with great passion, you wrapped your arms around him. The water made everything a little slippery, but Marcus was determined to grip your hips roughly, puling you closer. You wrapped your legs firmly against his waist, feeling his need press against you in the most delicious way. You couldn't stop your moans with each and every thrust and neither could he, and you began to feel him deeply inside you, he thrust deeper and deeper, pushing you both closer and closer to the edge. He grabbed your hair, gathering behind the nape of your neck and pulling your face closer, claiming your mouth with his teeth and imploring tongue. And you came for him once more, moaning into his mouth. He then reached his climax right after with a groan.

Breathing heavily, you slumped in the tub, he was holding you close, kissing your chin then beneath your ear. You listened to the peaceful sound of water echoing off the damp walls until your breathing calmed. Without pulling out, he wrapped his arms around you and you rested your head on his shoulder. Once your both breathing and racing hearts had calmed, he stood up and led you out of the tub too.

On the following day, the capital of Rome was on the brink of witnessing one of the most momentous days in its history. The Council's decision, Geta's proclaiming absolute emperorship to the entire populace, was followed by the announcement of the execution of the traitor Macrinus and his supporters in the Colosseum. As the sun reached its zenith, people were making their way towards the colossal structure, engaged in quiet conversation.

The emperor's carriage soon arrived near the Colosseum, where the people greeted Geta with great enthusiasm. You and Marcus were in the other carriage, which you got out of together and waved to the people who were cheering your name. The trumpets were blown, and as you walked towards the Imperial tribune, the announcer called out Geta's name. Everyone stood up and cheered him enthusiastically.

“Caesar! Caesar! Caesar! Caesar!”

Geta raised his hands and gave them the salute, then turned to you and held out his hand. And then they announced your name. You took Geta's hand and stood next to him.

"Princess Aurelia!"

The crowd clapped and cheered even more enthusiastically. You placed your right hand on your chest and saluted the crowd. It was then time for Marcus's name to be announced.

“General Marcus Justus Acacius!”

The crowd roared his name over and over.

“Acacius! Acacius! Acacius! Acacius!”

Marcus gave them a smile and a salute in return. Caracalla's seat has been removed and two seats have been added on either side of the emperor, as per his orders. At Geta's gesture, you took the seat next to him, and Marcus sat next to you.

And the trumpets sounded again. The announcer cut them off and carried on:

"For his treachery against the life of the Emperor and the Roman Empire, Marcus Opellius Macrinus is declared an enemy of the people. He has been stripped of his membership of the Senate and all those who aided and abetted him will bring to the arena in chains today, to face judgement, your judgement, people of Rome!"

When the iron gate sprung open, Macrinus and his supporters were brought into the middle of the arena in chains. The crowd booed them.

"Traitor! Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!"

The Announcer called the crowd to silence, listed his crimes one by one, which Macrinus replied with a smug smile.

Crowded roared. “Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!”

Geta stood up and went over to the balustrade. But then he glanced back at you and beckoned you over. You looked at Marcus and stood up, grabbing his hand and pulling him along with you. He didn’t resist and followed you.

"What do you think, sister? Mercy?"

All three of you were looking at Macrinus. Julia, who was watching you from behind, seemed angry with Geta for not calling her mother to his side. She crossed her arms and made a face.

Looking at Macrinus from a distance, you shook your head. "No mercy." You said firmly.

Geta smiled and looked at Marcus. "Acacius?"

"Having mercy on the traitor is a betrayal to the innocent!" Said Marcus without taking his eyes off Macrinus. You smiled and held his hand, he was so right.

Geta put his arms up. "The gods have spoken!" And then he lowered both hands down. The executioner nodded and separated Macrinus's head from his body in a single stroke.

The crowd cheered. It was the first time you'd ever felt so relieved that a man was dead. Marcus let out a deep sigh, feeling the same way. When it was the turn of the other traitors, they shared Macrinus' fate too. Marcus leaned towards Geta. "Speak to your people, Your Majesty, show that you are a true emperor. They need it."

Geta looked at him, then nodded. He took a deep breath.

"The people of Rome! I promise you that from now on I will restore Rome to its rightful glory! During my reign, there will no longer be any Romans who are hungry or poor. I pledge that no Roman rights will be infringed upon, and that all will enjoy equal conditions. I promise you, as your emperor, that I will strive to make Rome the greatest empire in the world!"

You and Marcus looked at each other as the crowd continued to cheer and applaud, their enthusiasm growing. This was precisely what you had hoped to hear. It seemed that the people were also pleased. You admired Geta's personal development and believed with all your heart that he would do what he promised.

Now it was time. It was time for you and your husband to return to your home in peace.

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myth1cs · 2 months ago

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Getting Revenge (Hirai Momo x M!Reader)

Don't ask (I'm sorry) Word Count: 2166

I was walking through the hallways before I suddenly got shoved into a wall.

"Hey Y/N so any updates on the group assignment?"

I groaned when I realized that it was Momo.

Momo was very popular. When I got assigned to be with her for the group project I was a little excited until I found out Momo didn't have any intention of actually doing any work.

Now I'm pulling her dead weight which isn't easy since I still have major projects from my other classes that I have to do.

"Yeah I'm almost done with it."

"Good anyways see you later Y/N." Momo said as she continued walking down the hallway.

Momo is every teachers favorite student. No one would believe me if I told them she wasn't pulling her weight and since I don't want to fail this assignment then I have no choice but to do it all on my own.

I swear if I ever get a chance to screw her over I will.

I went back to my dorm and saw that my roommate Kim Chaewon was already there.

Chaewon looked up from her laptop and looked at me "Hey Y/N how were classes today."

"You know the same." I said as I sat down next to her on the couch.

"Is that Momo girl still not doing her part of the assignment?"

"Yeah and I'm gonna have to stay up all night doing her part."

"That sucks Y/N. I would help if I could but I have my own class work to do."

I pulled out my laptop and started working on the assignment. Me and Chaewon worked next to each other in silence until she spoke up.

"Before I forget Y/N I invited my friend Yeji over so we can do some karaoke. Is that gonna be a problem?"

Yeji and Chaewon can get pretty loud when they do karaoke. And Chaewon knows that I am going to stay up all night doing work so she's probably asking cause she doesn't want to disturb me. But I didn't want to ruin Chaewons day as she doesn't have much free time and this was likely the only time she could hangout with one of her friends at least until exams ended.

I guess I can suck it up for one night.

"No problem Chaewon but can you try to keep it down this time."

"No promises." Chaewon said before she went back to doing her work.

"I shouldn't be up at this hour." I said as I looked at the clock and saw it was 1:30am.

I tried focusing on my work but I couldn't due to how loud Chaewon and Yeji were.

I texted my friend Haewon if I could stay in her dorm for the night and she quickly replied that I could.

I grabbed my stuff and made my way to her dorm but on my way I heard something coming from the floor below.

"Fuck I'm stuck."

The voice sounded familiar but I couldn't tell who it was because it was so quiet. I'm not sure why someone would be downstairs because the college is doing renovations down there so students shouldn't be their to begin with.

Just in case someone actually needs help I made my way downstairs and saw a bunch of incomplete walls and it looked like someone was stuck.

It was dark so I walked closer to see who it was.

"Wait is there someone there? ... YES I'm stuck can you pull me out!"

I paused as I realized I recognized that voice.

"Momo?"

"Oh great the last person I wanted to see, honestly I'd rather be stuck here until someone else arrives than be helped by you."

"Momo what are you doing here? Students aren't supposed to be down here."

"Well I got curious about what was down here and I tripped. Now I'm stuck in this wall. Happy now Y/N? Now if you can just pull me out we can both act like nothing happened."

I walked in front of Momo and we could barely see each other's faces because of how dark it was.

"I thought you said you'd rather be stuck than have me help you."

"Look Y/N I'm known as a popular student. If a teacher finds me it'll be embarrassing and if another student finds me they'll definitely take pictures and ruin my reputation. So how about you help me out here."

"Help you? Why would I do that if you have never made an effort to help me?"

"Ugh you're so needy. Fine I'll do anything you want if you help me get out of this wall except school work."

I pondered for a moment if I should help out Momo. I mean taking a picture of her stuck in a wall and spreading it to others would ruin her reputation. But on the other hand...

"I'll take that deal."

"Thanks Y/N now just get me out of here and I'll hold up my end of the deal." Momo said desperate to get out of the wall.

"I think you can hold your end of the deal just fine in the wall." I said as I started to pull my pants down.

"Wh-what are you doing." Momo said sounding both shocked and nervous.

"Momo as much as I hate you I can't lie. I find you extremely attractive. So I think I'll pleasure myself with you."

Even though I could barely see Momos face I could tell she was slightly blushing.

"Well ... Fine just know I'm only agreeing because I want to get out of here not because I have any feelings for you."

I pulled my pants all the way down and my cock sprung out. I started smacking it on Momos face which eventually made her groan.

"Y/N stop teasing me."

I decided to listen to her and shoved my cock deep inside her mouth.

Momo was trying to say something but it was muffled. I started to quickly thrust in and out of Momos mouth. I felt extreme pleasure from Momo. I shoved my cock as deep as I could inside Momos mouth and she started gagging. Her throat felt insanely good I didn't want to pull out.

Tears fell down Momos cheek and she tried to push me away but I kept my cock in her mouth.

Eventually I did pull out and Momo started gasping for air. I was more focused on how drenched my cock was. It was completely covered in her spit. I couldn't believe I got the most popular girl in school to choke on my cock.

I got on my knees so I could have my face on the same level as Momos and I started to kiss her.

Momo kissed me back and we started to make out. I slid my tongue into her mouth and our tongues started to fight. I won and the tongue war and started to kiss Momo more roughly.

Momo reached down and started to pump my cock and I moaned into Momos mouth.

My cock started twitching and I knew I was about to cum. I stopped kissing Momo and she looked at me confused.

"Y/N why did you stop? Was I not a good enough kisser?"

"Momo are you on birth control?"

"Yeah wh-" Momo cut herself off as she quickly realized what I wanted to do.

I went to the other side of the wall and pulled her jeans down. When I saw her big ass and her pink panties my cock got hard instantly, and I put my hands on Momos ass and started touching every inch of it.

"Fuck Y/N just do it."

"Well that isn't as fun Momo."

I started to lick Momos ass while rubbing her covered pussy.

"Y/N I fucking swear-"

"Fine since you're so impatient I guess I'll get on with it then Momo."

I decided to get on with it and took her panties off and aligned my cock with her pussy.

"Y/N this is my first time being penetrated by a cock." Momo said in an uneasy tone.

"First time by a cock? Has someone shoved something else in you?"

"Well ... My roommate Sana and I have had lesbian sex every now and then and she has shoved her fingers deep in me before."

I was a little surprised to hear Momo has had lesbian sex before. I thought if someone would be the one to have sex with her first it would be one of the popular boys in college like Lee Felix or Jeon Jungkook.

"So I'm your first guy?" I said as I started to slide my cock into Momos warm pussy.

"Ah ~ yes Y/N your cock is the first cock to enter my pussy."

Hearing Momo moans made me go crazy and it made me want to go rough on her. I started I increase my speed and the sounds of me slamming into Momo could probably be heard from the floor above us.

Momos pussy hugged my cock so tightly it felt like it cut off the blood flow to it. I struggled to even move my cock in her. I smacked Momos ass and left my hand print on it.

"How about you shake that ass for me Momo?"

Momo started to shake her ass and I couldn't help but to continue smacking her ass. Seeing her ass jiggle and get redder every time I smacked it was something I couldn't get enough of and I kept going until Momos ass went fully red.

I ended up cumming into Momo. I filled Momo with a big thick load of cum it almost leaked out of her pussy. I grabbed my cum and put it back into her pussy so it didn't go to waste.

I went back to the side Momos head was and saw that she was covering her mouth.

"Why are you covering your mouth?"

"I didn't want people to hear me."

"Why not I think everyone should hear your pretty moans."

"Don't say that Y/N." Momo looked away from me as she said that.

"So are you gonna get me out now?"

"How about you give me a boob job first."

"Make it quick."

I swiftly took Momos shirt off and saw how tightly her bra was squeezing her tits.

"How about we set these free Momo?" I said as I started playing with her tits with my hands.

"Mhm yes Y/N please take my bra off for me."

I unhooked Momos bra and shoved my face between her breasts. They felt extremely soft and I started to lick them. They tasted like heaven I couldn't get enough of them.

Momo tried to cover her mouth again but I grabbed her wrists to stop her.

"Let me hear your pretty voice Momo. Most people are sleeping at this hour so don't bother covering your moans."

"Agh ~ Y/N keep licking them."

I went back to licking Momos boobs and squeezed them. I pinched Momos nipples and she yelped.

"Y/N that hurts!"

I eventually pulled my face away and started to put my cock in between her soft boobs.

I grabbed both of her tits and squeezed them on my cock. I moaned from the pleasure I felt and started moving her tits up and down on my cock.

I kept going but I felt like I was about to cum. I didn't want to cum on her boobs as it would definitely spill onto the floor.

Momo how about we get you out of here and into my room?

"That'd be great Y/N let's go."

I dressed Momo back up and then helped push Momo free. Afterwards I led her to my dorm room where I was still able to hear Yeji and Chaewon going hard with their karaoke.

I led Momo to my room and we went back to kissing each other. We helped each other take our clothes off and went back to fucking each other.

We did a few more rounds with each other making each other cum.

Out of nowhere Chaewon barged through the door

"Hey Y/N wanna join- WHAT THE FUCK?"

Me and Momo looked at Chaewon and we felt embarrassed. I guess we were so focused on each other that we didn't notice they stopped singing there karaoke.

"I can explain-" but before I could mutter another word Yeji suddenly came into the room also.

"Chaewon what's wrong ... WAIT WHY IS MOMO BEING FUCKED BY YOUR ROOMMATE?!"

Both Yeji and Chaewon started screaming at me. I wasn't able to make out what they were saying but suddenly Haewon entered the room.

"Y/N you never came to my dorm are you-"

Haewon looked at me and Momo on the bed naked, then looked at Yeji and Chaewon before speaking.

"Am I interrupting something important?"

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Stay tuned for part 2 where they all fuck each other (I won't post a part 2)

I was gonna originally name it "Getting revenge on my bully stuck in a wall" But that's just way too long and I didn't end up leaning into the whole "Momo being a bully" thing as much.

#twice smut #momo smut #kpop smut #fanfic #girl group smut #twice ff #twice imagines #twice #twice x reader #yeji #haewon #smut #chaewon

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csainzoperator · 1 year ago

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baby : CL16 ☆

summary: y/n horner has dropped a new single. its a sexy and fun song. but y/n had broken up 4 years ago, and since then there was one superhit album with a sad and shady vibe. new year, new y/n? or new man? let's find out.

(charles leclerc × singer!reader)

trigger warnings: sexual intendos, typos (tried my best to not make any)

face claim: barbara palvin