It's A Long Way Back To You Masterlist

Fated to Love You || Choi Seungcheol

Pairing: Idol Scoups X Solo Idol Y/n Genre: Romance/Angst/Second chance romance/Drama Plot: After a highly publicized breakup with Seungcheol, Y/n finds herself caught between the past and the present as she navigates love, heartbreak, and the pressures of fame. With the world watching her every move, unexpected encounters, media scandals, and unresolved emotions complicate her journey. As tensions rise and feelings resurface, she is faced with a choice—one that could change everything. Authors note: Hey everyone! I know it’s been a while since I last posted, but I’m finally back with a new story! I’ve put a lot of effort into this one, and I really hope you all give it a chance. Writing this wasn’t easy, but your support always keeps me going. Thank you so much for your patience and for sticking with me—I truly appreciate it! Please keep commenting; your words inspire me more than you know. Hope you enjoy the story! Love you guys 💕✨

Comment which is your favourite part of the story

And also feel free to make any request for any other members or other group

The bustling chaos of the airport filled Y/n’s senses. She pulled her cap lower over her face and adjusted her sunglasses, hoping to slip past unnoticed. It was her first public appearance since announcing the cancellation of her engagement, and she knew the media frenzy that awaited her.

But the fans were relentless. As she walked toward the departure gate, a small crowd gathered around her, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of questions.

“Y/n! Is it true you and Seungcheol broke up because of Sewon?”

“Do you regret ending the engagement?”

“What happened between you and Seungcheol?”

Y/n stopped in her tracks, her heart pounding. She forced a calm expression, though her hands trembled as she gripped the strap of her bag.

“I’m sorry, but I won’t be answering any personal questions today,” she said firmly, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

The cameras continued to flash, and the murmurs grew louder, but Y/n kept walking. Her chest tightened with every step, each question cutting deeper than she cared to admit. By the time she reached her gate, she felt like she could barely breathe.

Finding a quiet corner, she slumped into a seat and closed her eyes, willing the tears to stay hidden. The echoes of the fans’ words lingered in her mind, reopening wounds she thought she had begun to heal. But as painful as it was, Y/n reminded herself why she had made the decision to walk away. It was for her own peace, her own worth things she refused to compromise any longer.

Seungcheol stared at his phone, his thumb hovering over Y/n’s contact. He had hesitated so many times before, unsure if she would even want to hear from him. But tonight, the emptiness in his apartment felt unbearable, and he couldn’t shake the need to hear her voice.

Taking a deep breath, he pressed the call button. The line rang, each tone dragging out the silence he dreaded. Finally, the call went to voicemail.

“Hey, Y/n,” he began, his voice low and uncertain. “It’s me. I… I just wanted to check on you. I know I don’t have the right to ask, but I hope you’re doing okay. I miss you."

He paused, the words catching in his throat.

“I… I’m sorry for everything. I hope someday we can talk. Take care, Y/n.”

Ending the call, Seungcheol let out a shaky breath and set the phone down. The emptiness lingered, but for the first time, he felt a flicker of hope—however small—that things might one day be different.

A day later, Seungcheol sat in front of his phone camera, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. He had debated for hours about making this video, but the backlash Y/n was facing left him no choice.

Pressing record, he took a deep breath and began to speak.

“Hi, this is Seungcheol. I know a lot has been said and speculated about my relationship with Y/n and the engagement we ended. I want to start by saying that Y/n has always been someone I deeply respect and care for. The decision we made to part ways was mutual, and it was a deeply personal matter.”

He paused, his eyes glancing down briefly before returning to the camera. “But what I cannot stand by and watch is the way she’s being harassed and blamed. Y/n does not deserve the hate or the accusations being thrown at her. She made the decision that was best for her, and I respect that wholeheartedly.”

Seungcheol leaned forward slightly, his tone growing firmer. “I also want to address the rumors about Sewon. She is a friend, nothing more. Any assumptions beyond that are untrue and have caused unnecessary pain to everyone involved.”

He exhaled slowly, as if releasing the weight of his words. “I’m asking, sincerely, for everyone to stop harassing Y/n. She deserves peace and privacy, just as any of us do. Please be kind. Thank you.”

With that, he ended the recording and uploaded the video, hoping it would help ease the storm Y/n was facing. As he sat back, he realized that while he couldn’t undo the past, he could at least try to make things right in the present.

Two days later, Seungcheol found himself dialing Y/n’s number once again. To his surprise, this time, she answered.

“Hello?” Y/n’s voice was calm but distant, guarded.

“Y/n,” Seungcheol said, his voice heavy with emotion. “Thank you for answering. I just… I needed to talk to you.”

She remained silent, and he took it as his cue to continue. “I know I hurt you. I know I let you down in ways I can’t even begin to make up for. But I want you to know how sorry I am. Truly. You didn’t deserve any of this—the doubts, the pain, the public scrutiny. None of it.”

“Seungcheol,” she interrupted, her tone sharp yet composed. “I didn’t answer this call to hear your apology. I’ve heard it before. What I needed from you was action, not words. And you failed me when it mattered most.”

He swallowed hard, the weight of her words cutting through him. “I know. I just… I hoped there might be a way to fix this. To fix us.”

“There’s no fixing this,” Y/n said firmly. “Not anymore. I gave everything to this relationship, and I lost myself in the process. I won’t do that again.”

Her words were final, and Seungcheol felt his chest tighten. “I understand,” he said quietly. “I just want you to be happy, Y/n. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I hope you find happiness too,” she replied

Three years ago

Under the bright lights of Y/n’s solo concert, Seungcheol and the members of Seventeen stood backstage, waiting for the show to begin. The crowd’s energy was electric, and their excitement mirrored the audience’s.

When Y/n finally took the stage, she owned it. Her presence was magnetic, her voice captivating as she performed with a passion that seemed to radiate beyond the stage. Seungcheol found himself mesmerized, his admiration growing with every song.

“She’s incredible,” Jeonghan whispered, nudging him. “No wonder everyone’s in love with her.”

Seungkwan nodded enthusiastically. “She’s not just talented; she’s got this aura. It’s impossible not to admire her.”

As Y/n finished her set and thanked the audience, her smile was radiant, lighting up the entire arena. Seungcheol couldn’t help but feel a spark of something deeper—a connection he couldn’t quite explain.

When they were finally introduced backstage, Y/n was gracious and warm despite the exhaustion evident in her eyes. She greeted each member with genuine kindness, and when her gaze met Seungcheol’s, he felt his heart skip a beat.

“You were amazing out there,” he said, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his chest.

“Thank you,” she replied, her smile soft and sincere. “I’ve heard so much about you and your group. It’s an honor to finally meet you all.”

That night, Seungcheol found himself lingering after the others had left, gathering the courage to speak again. “Y/n,” he began, his voice quieter this time, “I was wondering… if you’d like to grab coffee sometime. Just us.”

Her eyebrows rose slightly, surprise flickering across her face. Then, she smiled—a real, genuine smile that made his heart race. “I’d like that,” she said simply.

And so, it began. Coffee turned into late-night conversations, shared laughter, and a deep bond that grew stronger with each passing day. For Seungcheol, falling in love with Y/n was as natural as breathing, and in her presence, he felt like he had found a kindred spirit. The world seemed brighter, and the burdens of their demanding careers felt lighter when they were together.

Though their love story had its share of challenges, those early days were a reminder of the connection that had once brought them so much joy. And even now, as Seungcheol reflected on everything they had lost, he couldn’t help but cherish the moments that had made him fall in love with her in the first place.

As their coffee meetings turned into a weekly ritual, Seungcheol found himself looking forward to those moments more than anything else. Y/n had a way of making him laugh, even on his worst days. She listened intently, offering advice when he needed it and silence when words weren’t enough.

One evening, after a particularly long day of rehearsals, Seungcheol showed up at their favorite cafe, his exhaustion evident. Y/n noticed immediately and pushed a steaming cup of tea toward him.

“You look like you’ve been through a war,” she teased gently.

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Something like that. But seeing you makes it all worth it.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she hid it behind her own cup. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Choi Seungcheol.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he replied with a playful smirk. “It got me here with you, didn’t it?”

Their banter flowed effortlessly, the connection between them growing deeper with every interaction. Over time, Seungcheol began to realize that Y/n wasn’t just someone he admired—she was someone he wanted by his side, through every high and low.

One night, as they walked along a quiet street after another coffee date, Seungcheol stopped abruptly. Y/n turned to him, puzzled.

“What is it?” she asked.

He hesitated, his heart pounding. Then, he took a deep breath. “Y/n, I know we’ve only been seeing each other for a short time, but… I like you. A lot. And I was wondering if you’d give us a chance—like, a real chance.”

Y/n stared at him, her expression unreadable. For a moment, he feared he had ruined everything. But then she smiled, her eyes softening.

“I’d like that,” she said simply.

Relief and joy washed over Seungcheol, and without thinking, he reached for her hand. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she squeezed his hand gently, and they continued walking, their steps perfectly in sync.

It was the beginning of a love story that would change both of their lives forever.

Three years into their relationship, Seungcheol knew he couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted Y/n to know how deeply she meant to him and how much he wanted to build a future together. With the help of the Seventeen members, he meticulously planned the proposal.

The venue was a private rooftop garden, adorned with twinkling fairy lights and surrounded by blooming flowers. It was the same place they had shared their first late-night conversation about their dreams and fears. Seungcheol wanted the moment to feel intimate, just as their relationship had always been—a sanctuary from the chaotic world around them.

Y/n arrived at the venue under the pretense of a casual date. As she stepped onto the rooftop, her breath hitched at the sight before her. A path lined with candles led to Seungcheol, who stood waiting under an arch draped in soft, white fabric and flowers.

He smiled nervously as she approached, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. “You’re here,” he said, his voice tinged with both excitement and nerves.

“What is all this?” she asked, her eyes glimmering with curiosity and emotion.

Taking a deep breath, Seungcheol dropped to one knee, pulling out a small velvet box from his pocket. Y/n gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes.

“Y/n,” he began, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart. “From the moment I met you, you turned my world upside down in the best way possible. You’ve been my rock, my partner, and my greatest love. Every day with you feels like a gift, and I can’t imagine my life without you by my side.”

He opened the box, revealing a delicate ring that sparkled under the soft glow of the lights. “Will you marry me?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.

Tears streamed down Y/n’s face as she nodded, unable to find the words. “Yes,” she finally managed to say, her voice breaking. “A thousand times yes.”

Seungcheol stood, slipping the ring onto her finger before pulling her into a tight embrace. The sound of soft applause broke out as the Seventeen members emerged from their hiding spots, cheering and congratulating the newly engaged couple.

The night was filled with laughter, love, and promises for the future. For Seungcheol and Y/n, it was a moment they would treasure forever—a testament to the love that had grown between them, steady and unwavering, through every challenge and triumph.

But as the weeks passed, cracks began to appear in their seemingly perfect engagement. It started when Seungcheol grew closer to Sewon, a fellow idol he had known for years. Initially, Y/n didn’t mind; she trusted Seungcheol and knew how important friendships were in their industry. But gradually, his priorities seemed to shift.

Missed calls, delayed responses, and canceled plans became more frequent. Whenever Y/n tried to address the issue, Seungcheol brushed it off, claiming he was busy with group schedules and projects. However, Y/n couldn’t ignore the pattern: most of his excuses coincided with him spending time with Sewon.

One evening, after yet another postponed dinner, Y/n decided to confront him. She waited for him in their shared apartment, her heart heavy with unease. When he finally walked through the door, his tired expression did little to soften her resolve.

“Seungcheol, we need to talk,” she said firmly.

He sighed, dropping his bag onto the couch. “Can it wait? I’m exhausted.”

“No, it can’t,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly. “You’ve been distant lately, and I feel like I’m not even a priority anymore. What’s going on?”

He rubbed his temples, frustration flickering across his face. “Y/n, I told you, it’s just work. You know how demanding our schedules are.”

“Is it work?” she pressed, her eyes searching his. “Or is it Sewon?”

At her words, Seungcheol’s expression hardened. “Why are you bringing her into this? She’s just a friend.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m competing with her for your attention?” Y/n’s voice cracked, the pain she had been suppressing spilling out. “You cancel our plans to meet her, you talk about her all the time, and you don’t even see how it’s affecting us.”

“You’re overthinking this,” he snapped, his tone sharper than he intended. “Sewon has nothing to do with us. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

Y/n took a step back, stunned by his dismissiveness. “Nothing?” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you even hear yourself, Seungcheol? I’ve tried to be patient, to understand, but I can’t keep pretending that everything’s fine when it’s not.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to choose us,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “But it feels like you’ve already made your choice.”

The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging heavily between them. Seungcheol opened his mouth to respond but stopped himself. Instead, he turned and walked toward the bedroom, leaving Y/n standing alone in the living room, her heart breaking.

The days that followed were filled with strained conversations and unspoken tension. Y/n tried to hold on, hoping that Seungcheol would realize what was at stake, but his continued indifference only deepened the rift between them. Meanwhile, the rumors about him and Sewon began to spread, fueled by fan speculation and media reports.

Y/n found herself caught in a storm of doubt and heartbreak, unsure of how to salvage a relationship that seemed to be slipping through her fingers. And as much as she loved Seungcheol, she couldn’t ignore the growing feeling that she was fighting for something he no longer valued.

One rainy afternoon, Y/n received a message from Seungcheol, asking to meet at a small café they used to frequent during the early days of their relationship. Despite her reservations, she agreed, hoping for clarity amidst the chaos.

As she entered the café, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of soft jazz music greeted her. Seungcheol was already there, sitting at a corner table, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug. His eyes lit up when he saw her, but there was a hesitance in his gaze.

“Thanks for coming,” he said as she sat down across from him.

Y/n nodded, folding her hands on the table. “What did you want to talk about?”

Seungcheol sighed, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his mug. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us… about everything.”

“And?” Y/n prompted, her heart pounding in anticipation.

“I don’t think I’m ready for marriage,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was, but the more I think about it, the more I realize I’m too young. There’s so much going on in my career, and I feel like I’m being pulled in so many directions.”

Y/n stared at him, her chest tightening. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner? Before proposing?”

“I thought I could handle it,” he said, his eyes filled with regret. “I thought my love for you would be enough to overcome everything else. But now, I’m not so sure.”

Her lips trembled as she spoke. “Do you even want to be with me, Seungcheol? Or am I just another thing you’re unsure about?”

“Of course I want to be with you,” he said quickly, reaching across the table for her hand. She pulled away, shaking her head.

“You can’t have it both ways,” she said, her voice breaking. “You can’t ask me to commit my life to you while you’re unsure about yours.”

Her voice was sharper now, the edge of frustration cutting through. “Is it about Sewon?”

Seungcheol’s silence spoke louder than words. Sewon’s name had become a sore point between them in recent months. A close friend and fellow idol, her bond with Seungcheol had always been evident. While Y/n had trusted him implicitly, the whispers of fans and the media began to seep into her mind, planting seeds of doubt.

“She’s just a friend,” he said, but his tone lacked conviction. “You know that.”

“Do I?” Y/n’s voice cracked, betraying the pain she had tried so hard to mask. “Do you realize how it feels to constantly see her by your side, laughing with you, leaning on you? And the worst part? You’ve never once tried to reassure me."

Seungcheol reached across the table, his hand hovering over hers. “I never meant to hurt you. You have to believe me.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m the only one fighting for this relationship?” She pulled her hand away, tears threatening to spill. “We’re supposed to be partners, Seungcheol. But lately, it feels like I’m competing for your attention.”

“Maybe… maybe we need some time apart,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n felt her heart shatter. The engagement ring on her finger suddenly felt like a burden, its brilliance mocking her pain. She slipped it off and placed it on the table between them.

“If that’s what you want,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “Then I won’t stop you.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, tears brimming in his eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

Y/n felt her heart shatter. The engagement ring on her finger suddenly felt like a burden, its brilliance mocking her pain. She slipped it off and placed it on the table between them.

Y/n stood, her chair scraping against the floor. “You already have.” Without another word, she walked out of the café, leaving Seungcheol sitting alone, the weight of his choices pressing down on him like never before.

*Flashback ends*

In the weeks that followed, Y/n channeled her heartbreak into her music. Late nights in the studio became her solace as she poured her emotions into lyrics and melodies. Each song she wrote was raw and vulnerable, capturing the pain, confusion, and longing she felt.

When her album was released, it became an instant hit, resonating with fans and critics alike. Tracks like "Falling Out of Love" and "Shadows of Us" topped the charts, their haunting lyrics striking a chord with listeners. In interviews, Y/n remained composed, describing the album as a reflection of her personal journey but never delving into specific details about her relationship with Seungcheol.

One particular song, "Unspoken Goodbye," drew widespread attention. Its lyrics painted a vivid picture of unreciprocated efforts and the ache of realizing love wasn’t enough to hold two people together.

“I reached for you in the dark, but you were already gone. Promises turned to whispers, and now I sing alone.”

Fans speculated endlessly, piecing together clues from the lyrics and her recent public appearances. Some sympathized with her, while others continued to draw comparisons between her and Sewon, fueling debates online.

Through it all, Y/n remained focused on her craft, using her art to heal. Though her heart was still mending, her music gave her

Months after the release, Y/n was invited for an exclusive interview with a renowned media outlet. The interviewer, known for their probing questions, eventually brought up the topic that many were curious about.

“How do you feel about Seungcheol now?” they asked, leaning forward slightly. “After everything that’s happened, do you still think about him?”

Y/n paused, her hands resting gently on her lap as she considered her words. She met the interviewer’s gaze, her expression calm but tinged with melancholy. “A piece of my heart will always love him,” she admitted, her voice steady but soft. “I could never hate him. He was a significant part of my life, and what we shared was real and meaningful.”

She took a deep breath before continuing. “It hurts me to see him getting hurt. Despite everything, I don’t wish pain or hardship upon him. I think that’s what love truly is—wanting the best for someone, even if they’re no longer in your life.”

Her candid response resonated with fans and viewers alike, painting a picture of grace and emotional maturity. It reminded everyone that even in heartbreak, love could leave behind a legacy of compassion and understanding.

Seungcheol watched the interview late at night, alone in his apartment. Her words echoed in his mind, filling him with a mix of regret and longing. The song, the interview, everything she had shared publicly—it all made him realize just how deeply he had hurt her and how much he missed having her in his life.

On an impulse, he picked up his phone and dialed her number. It rang twice before she answered, her voice cautious. “Hello?”

“Y/n, it’s me,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “I—I saw the interview. And the song. I just… I needed to tell you how sorry I am. For everything.”

She was silent for a moment before responding. “Seungcheol, we’ve already been through this. I’ve moved on, and you should too.”

“I know I messed up,” he said desperately. “But seeing you, hearing your words—it reminded me of everything we had. I miss you, Y/n. I miss us.”

Her voice remained calm but firm. “You miss what we had, Seungcheol, but that doesn’t change what you did. You made choices that hurt me deeply, and I can’t just forget that.”

“I’ll do anything to make it right,” he pleaded. “Please, just give me another chance.”

She sighed softly, her tone filled with a mixture of sadness and finality. “Sometimes, love isn’t enough. I’ll always wish the best for you, but I can’t go back to the way things were. Take care of yourself, Seungcheol.”

Before he could say anything else, she ended the call, leaving him staring at his phone, the weight of her words sinking in. For the first time, he truly understood that some things, no matter how much he wished otherwise, couldn’t be undone.

Months passed, and Y/n eventually entered a new relationship. Her new boyfriend was kind, understanding, and patient—everything she thought she needed to heal. On the surface, they seemed happy together, and the public saw it as her fresh start.

But deep down, Y/n couldn’t shake the emptiness she felt. The laughter didn’t feel as genuine, the conversations didn’t spark the same warmth, and despite her efforts to move on, her heart still ached for the love she had lost.

She found herself reminiscing about Seungcheol more often than she cared to admit—his bright smile, the way he always made her feel safe, the late-night talks where they dreamed about their future together. No matter how hard she tried to deny it, a part of her still belonged to him.

And no matter how much she wanted to forget, she couldn’t.

One evening, Y/n took the stage at a major rock festival, her energy electrifying the crowd. She had always loved experimenting with different genres, and this performance was one of her most powerful yet—raw, intense, and full of emotion. She poured her heart into every note, her voice carrying the weight of everything she had been through.

Backstage, her old friend Seungkwan watched from the wings, deeply moved by her performance. He had always been close to Y/n and seeing her like this—fierce yet fragile—made him realize how much she was still hurting.

Unable to ignore it any longer, he reached out to Seungcheol. “Hyung, you need to come see her. You need to hear her.”

Despite his initial hesitation, Seungcheol agreed. The two arrived at the concert venue unnoticed, blending into the sea of fans as Y/n performed.

Seungcheol’s heart clenched as he watched her under the bright lights, singing her heart out. He could feel her pain in every lyric, see the lingering sadness in her eyes. It was a painful reminder of everything they had lost.

And in that moment, he realized—he had never stopped loving her.

The moment Y/n stepped off the stage, her adrenaline was still pumping. The roar of the crowd echoed in her ears, but even their deafening cheers couldn’t drown out the heaviness in her heart. She barely had time to catch her breath before a familiar voice cut through the haze.

“Y/n.”

She froze.

That voice. That tone.

She turned slowly, her eyes widening as she met Seungcheol’s gaze. He stood just a few feet away, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—those same eyes she once drowned in—were filled with something raw. Something she wasn’t ready to face.

Before she could say a word, her boyfriend Minseong appeared by her side, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Hey, is everything okay?” he asked, glancing between Y/n and Seungcheol.

The tension was suffocating. The members of Seventeen and her own group lingered nearby, uneasy, unsure if they should step in.

Seungcheol let out a bitter chuckle, shoving his hands into his pockets. “So this is him?” His voice was sharp, edged with something close to resentment. “The guy you moved on with?”

Y/n’s jaw clenched. “Cheol—”

“Did he ever make your heart race the way I did?” Seungcheol asked, his voice rising. “Or did you just force yourself to move on because you were scared?”

The room fell silent.

Y/n took a shaky breath, her eyes burning. “You don’t get to do this,” she snapped. “You don’t get to walk back into my life after all this time and question my choices. You were the one who let me go.”

Seungcheol stepped closer, his frustration bubbling over. “Let you go? Y/n, you walked away!” His voice cracked slightly, and for a moment, the anger wavered, revealing the hurt beneath. “You left me. And now you’re here, acting like none of it meant anything?”

“It meant everything,” she shot back, her voice trembling. “And that’s exactly why I had to leave.”

Her boyfriend shifted awkwardly beside her. “Maybe we should talk about this later—”

“No.” Y/n shook her head, eyes locked onto Seungcheol. “You don’t get to stand here and act like you’re the only one who suffered. Do you think it was easy for me? Do you think I didn’t spend nights wondering if I made the right choice?”

Seungcheol’s breath hitched.

Y/n’s hands balled into fists. “I waited, Cheol. I waited for you to fight for me, to give me a reason to stay. But you didn’t. You let me leave. So don’t you dare show up now, acting like you still have a say in my life.”

Seungcheol stared at her, chest rising and falling with the weight of everything he wanted to say. The members of Seventeen shifted uneasily, exchanging glances.

Seungkwan finally stepped in, his voice gentle but firm. “Hyung, maybe this isn’t the right time—”

But Seungcheol ignored him. His eyes stayed on Y/n, desperate, pleading. “Tell me one thing,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Are you really happy?”

Y/n faltered.

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

And in that silence, Seungcheol got his answer.

The morning after the heated confrontation backstage, the internet was in chaos. News outlets, gossip sites, and social media platforms were flooded with headlines, each twisting the story in its own way.

"Y/n and Seungcheol's Backstage Clash: Former Lovers Turn to Heated Argument at Music Festival!"

"Caught on Camera: Y/n and Seungcheol's Explosive Fight – Tensions Boil Over in Front of Seventeen and Industry Insiders!"

"Seungcheol Confronts Y/n Over Their Past – Did She Ever Move On?"

Fan-recorded videos from the concert venue circulated online, showing snippets of their intense exchange. Though no official statement had been released, lip readers and “insiders” claimed to have deciphered the argument. The drama escalated as netizens took sides.

🗣️ "Y/n deserves to move on. Seungcheol had his chance, why is he acting up now?"

🗣️ "You can literally see the pain in Seungcheol's face... he's still in love with her."

🗣️ "Not Seungcheol pulling a ‘are you really happy?’ moment like it’s a K-drama 😭😭"

🗣️ "Her new boyfriend just standing there while Y/n and Seungcheol basically confess their unresolved feelings 💀"

Within hours, major entertainment news outlets picked up the story. Some reporters speculated on whether the ex-couple had lingering feelings, while others accused Seungcheol of being possessive. Articles broke down the timeline of their past relationship, analyzing every interaction they’d had in public since their breakup.

A particularly viral article from Dispatch read:

"Inside Y/n and Seungcheol’s Emotional Backstage Confrontation: A Love That Never Faded?"

"Sources close to the artists claim that the fight was years in the making. ‘They never fully moved on from each other,’ an anonymous staff member revealed. ‘Everyone knew there was unfinished business between them.’"

Another gossip site went even further:

"Did Y/n Settle for a ‘Safe’ Relationship? Fans Speculate That Her New Boyfriend is Just a Rebound!"

Y/n’s company quickly released a short statement:

"Y/n had a private conversation with a colleague. We ask for your understanding and request that unfounded speculations be avoided."

But Seungcheol’s company remained silent, fueling more rumors. Some fans believed it was because he had nothing to deny.

Meanwhile, Seventeen’s members were being bombarded with questions during schedules. Seungkwan, who had been there that night, looked visibly uncomfortable when asked about it during a live stream.

“Ah… it’s not my place to say anything,” he murmured, avoiding eye contact with the camera. “I just hope people don’t believe everything they read online.”

Three days after the backstage altercation between Y/n and Seungcheol shook the internet, the idol finally addressed the controversy.

At midnight, Seungcheol went live on Weverse, looking visibly tired. Dressed in a simple hoodie and cap, he sighed before speaking, his voice softer than usual.

“First of all, I want to sincerely apologize to the fans,” he began, his fingers laced together as he bowed slightly. “I never wanted to cause a scandal or bring unnecessary attention to anyone, especially Y/n. That night… things got emotional, and I let my feelings get the best of me.”

He paused, exhaling shakily. “I know many of you have seen the videos and read the articles. There’s no excuse for what happened. It was a private conversation that, unfortunately, became very public. And for that, I take full responsibility.”

His eyes flickered with emotion as he hesitated before continuing. “I also won’t lie to you. The truth is… I never stopped caring about Y/n.”

The comment section exploded instantly.

Seungcheol swallowed hard, his hands slightly shaking. “I don’t expect anything to change. She has her own life now, and I respect that. But I also don’t want to pretend anymore.”

💬 “DID HE JUST CONFESS???”

💬 “Wait wait wait HOLD ON.”

💬 “HE STILL LOVES HER??? SEUNGCHEOL WTF”

💬 “Someone check on Y/n’s boyfriend bc there’s no way he’s okay rn 💀”

“I loved her. I still do. And that’s something I can’t hide, no matter how much time passes.”

A heavy silence filled the air. The weight of his confession was undeniable.

“I don’t regret what we had, and I will always be grateful for the memories. But I also know that some things… can’t be undone,” he murmured. “No matter what happens, I just want her to be happy.”

He looked straight into the camera. “To the fans who were disappointed in me, I’m sorry. To Y/n, if you ever see this… I’m sorry for putting you through this again.”

With one final bow, he ended the live.

But the internet was just getting started.

Within minutes, hashtags like #SeungcheolApologizes, #CheolStillLovesY/n, and #Y/nResponseWhen? trended worldwide. Fans were divided—some heartbroken over his pain, others hopeful that this was the beginning of something new.

A few days after Seungcheol’s confession sent the internet into a frenzy, Seungkwan found himself standing outside Y/n’s apartment, nervously shifting on his feet. He had sent her a text earlier, asking if he could talk, and to his surprise, she had agreed.

When the door finally opened, Y/n stood there, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on her face. She looked tired—exhausted, really. And Seungkwan hated knowing that he had contributed to it.

She stepped aside, allowing him in without a word. He hesitated for a second before walking inside, the air between them thick with unspoken tension.

Taking a deep breath, Seungkwan turned to face her. “Y/n, I… I’m so sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

She raised an eyebrow. “For what exactly?”

His stomach twisted. He knew she wasn’t making it easy for him—and honestly, he deserved it.

“For dragging Seungcheol to your concert,” he admitted, guilt evident in his voice. “I thought I was helping. I thought if he saw you, if he heard you sing, he’d finally get some closure. I never meant for things to spiral like this.”

Y/n let out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. “Closure?” She scoffed. “Seungkwan, I was finally starting to move on, and now look at this mess. Do you know how many headlines I’ve had to ignore? How many people have been asking me about my relationship, about Seungcheol, about us?”

Seungkwan lowered his head, shame washing over him. “I know. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am for putting you through this again. I never wanted to make things harder for you.”

She studied him for a moment before sighing. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” she said, voice softer now. “But you should have stayed out of it, Seungkwan. It wasn’t your place to interfere.”

Seungkwan swallowed hard. “I get that now. And if I could take it all back, I would.” His voice cracked slightly. “I just—seeing you like that on stage, I knew you were still hurting. And I saw how much hyung was struggling too. I thought… maybe, deep down, you both just needed a push.”

Y/n’s shoulders slumped, and for the first time, Seungkwan saw the raw emotion in her eyes. “You don’t think I know that?” she whispered. “You don’t think I’ve spent every single day wondering if I made the right choice?”

His breath hitched.

“I still love him, Seungkwan,” she admitted, the words hanging heavy in the air. “But that doesn’t mean we can go back to how things were.”

Seungkwan felt his chest tighten. He had hoped—prayed—that maybe, just maybe, things would fall back into place. But Y/n’s expression told him everything he needed to know.

“I get it,” he murmured. “And I swear, I won’t interfere anymore.” He looked at her with sincerity. “I just want you to be happy, Y/n. Whether that’s with Seungcheol or not.”

For the first time that night, Y/n’s expression softened.

“I know,” she said. “And I appreciate that.”

The tension between them eased, just slightly. And as Seungkwan left that night, he hoped—more than anything—that one day, Y/n and Seungcheol would find the happiness they both deserved.

The buzz surrounding Y/n and Seungcheol hadn’t died down, and after weeks of speculation, Y/n finally agreed to an exclusive interview. It wasn’t to explain herself, nor was it to address the scandal directly—she simply wanted to remind the world who she was beyond the drama.

Sitting across from the interviewer in a beautifully lit studio, Y/n looked poised and elegant, her aura calm despite the chaos that had surrounded her lately.

Halfway through the interview, the inevitable question came.

“Y/n, with everything that has happened recently, I think what everyone wants to know is… are you happy?”

The studio fell into silence, and for a moment, Y/n only blinked, as if carefully choosing her words. The interviewer watched her expectantly, and fans watching from behind their screens held their breath.

Then, Y/n smiled—not forced, not hesitant, but genuine.

“I am happy,” she answered simply, nodding. “I have people around me who love and support me. I’m doing what I love. I’m growing, learning, and becoming a better version of myself every day.”

She paused, her fingers gently running along the armrest of her chair. “I think happiness isn’t just about one person, or one moment. It’s about finding peace within yourself, no matter what’s happening around you.”

Her words sent waves across social media. Some fans cheered her on, proud of her strength, while others couldn’t help but read between the lines.

No matter how people interpreted it, one thing was clear—Y/n wasn’t letting the past define her anymore.

💬 “She didn’t say she moved on. She said she’s happy… but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him anymore.”

💬 “If she’s happy, then that’s all that matters. She deserves it.”

💬 “So this is really the end for her and Seungcheol?”

💬 “What if she’s saying this to convince herself? She looked kind of sad for a second.”

And whether Seungcheol was part of her future or not… that was a story only time would tell.

Just when the internet was beginning to settle down after Y/n’s interview, a single post sent fans into a frenzy once again.

Late at night, Y/n’s boyfriend uploaded a picture to his Instagram story—an intimate yet casual shot of him and Y/n. She was leaning against him, laughing softly, while he had his arm draped over her shoulders.

But what truly set the internet ablaze was the caption.

"Thanks for letting her go."

Within minutes, screenshots flooded Twitter, Instagram, and online forums. Fans and netizens had mixed reactions—some supporting the new relationship, others furious over what they saw as an unnecessary dig at Seungcheol.

It didn’t take long before Seungcheol’s name began trending again, fans anxiously waiting to see if he would respond.

💬 “OHHHHH HE’S PETTY FOR THAT 😭”

💬 “No way he actually posted this 💀💀💀”

💬 “Seungcheol, don’t look at your phone bro.”

💬 “He really said ‘I won.’ But did he, though?”

💬 “This feels kinda insecure… if you’re happy, why throw shade?”

💬 “Y/n deserves to be happy, but this caption was not it.”

However, Seungcheol remained completely silent. No statements. No cryptic posts. No subtle likes or unlikes.

Following the viral Instagram story from Y/n’s new boyfriend, media outlets wasted no time in picking up the drama. Within hours, headlines flooded every major entertainment site, further fueling the ongoing controversy.

📢 K-Buzz News: "Y/n’s New Boyfriend Takes a Dig at Seungcheol—‘Thanks for Letting Her Go’ Sparks Debate!"

📢 AllK-Entertainment: "Is It a Low Blow? Y/n’s Boyfriend Posts Shady Caption Amidst Seungcheol’s Confession!"

📢 Dispatch Exclusive: "Aimed at Seungcheol? Y/n’s Boyfriend Under Fire for His Controversial Instagram Post!"

The articles analyzed every angle of the situation—some supporting Y/n’s boyfriend, claiming he had every right to express his love publicly, while others criticized him for being unnecessarily petty.

One report even included insights from an anonymous industry insider:

"It’s no secret that Seungcheol and Y/n had a deep history. For a new boyfriend to make such a statement so publicly… it seems more like a declaration of victory than genuine love. Fans are divided, and understandably so."

Online discussions became more heated, with netizens and fans picking sides.

After days of silence, Seungcheol finally broke his silence—and he did it in the most Seungcheol way possible.

💬 “I mean… he’s not wrong, Seungcheol DID let her go.”

💬 “There was no need for this. If he was confident in their relationship, he wouldn’t have posted that.”

💬 “Is Y/n okay with this? She’s been trying to move on peacefully.”

💬 “This is getting so messy. I just want all of them to be happy.”

During SEVENTEEN’s sold-out concert, emotions were already running high, but no one expected the leader to address the controversy head-on.

Right before launching into a rap solo, Seungcheol took a deep breath, smirked slightly, and let the mic drop to his side for a second. The crowd fell silent, sensing something was about to go down.

Then, he looked out at the audience and said, “Someone decided to run their mouth… but I can’t just let that go, right?”

The stadium erupted in screams.

Without missing a beat, the beat dropped, and Seungcheol spit bars sharper than knives, delivering what fans immediately recognized as a freestyle diss aimed directly at Y/n’s boyfriend.

“You think you won, but why you still talkin’?

Got my leftovers, but you’re still stalkin’.

Holdin’ her hand, but you checkin’ my page—

You insecure, man, just stay in your lane.

The crowd went wild, some covering their mouths in shock while others jumped, hyped at the unexpected callout. Seungcheol didn’t stop there. He ended the rap with one last line that sent chills through the venue:

Talkin’ like you won but you don’t know the game,

She’s not a trophy, she don’t need a new name.

You flex online but we know it’s pretend,

If you gotta talk about me, are you really her man?”

“Real love don’t need a caption, it just stays.”

🔥 FANS. LOST. THEIR. MINDS. 🔥

💬 “DID CHEOL JUST DISS HIM LIVE???”

💬 “HE REALLY SAID I CANT LET THAT GO LMAOOO”

💬 “That was directed straight at him and everyone knows it 💀”

💬 “The way Seungcheol handled this was straight SAVAGE but CLASSY.”

As expected, clips of the performance exploded online within minutes. Hashtags like #SeungcheolDissTrack #StayInYourLaneand #ICantLetThatGo trended worldwide.

💬 “DID HE JUST CALL HIM INSECURE???”

💬 “Seungcheol said ‘you got her but you’re STILL mad’ LMAOOO”

💬 “This man had enough and snapped 💀💀”

💬 “Y/n’s boyfriend better not check Twitter today.”

💬 “The fact that he did this in a FULL concert with THOUSANDS of people watching… legendary.”

Even fellow SEVENTEEN members couldn’t hide their reactions—Mingyu was seen howling with laughter, Hoshi dramatically clutched his chest, and Jeonghan smirked knowingly.

Meanwhile, Y/n’s boyfriend remained silent on social media. No response. No clapback.

Because at that moment, Seungcheol had already won the battle without even trying.

The K-pop world is ablaze once again as Seungcheol's recent concert performance has sparked a fresh wave of controversy.

Leading outlets like Dispatch, AllKPop, and K-Buzz wasted no time covering the unexpected diss.

📢 Dispatch Headline: "Seungcheol's Savage Rap Sparks Speculation – Is Y/n's Boyfriend the Target?"

📢 K-Buzz: "‘Stay in Your Lane’ – Seungcheol Sends a Clear Message During SEVENTEEN’s Concert!"

📢 AllKPop: "Seungcheol Breaks Silence in the Most K-Pop Way Possible – Fans Call It the Ultimate Clapback!"

The viral moment had fans dissecting every line of the rap, with many convinced that the lyrics were aimed directly at Y/n’s boyfriend following his controversial Instagram post.

The reaction online was immediate:

One industry insider told Dispatch:

"Seungcheol is known for writing deeply personal lyrics, but this performance felt different. It was raw and deliberate—he knew exactly what he was doing."

Neither Seungcheol nor his agency released an official statement, but fans noticed that SEVENTEEN’s official social media accounts carefully avoided posting clips from that performance—further fueling the speculation.

💬 "He didn’t even name-drop, but we all know who he’s talking about."

💬 "Seungcheol said ‘stay in your lane’ and mic dropped. ICONIC."

💬 "If I were Y/n’s boyfriend, I would deactivate every social media app right now."

💬 "Seungcheol is fighting demons with a whole concert tour."

Meanwhile, Y/n’s boyfriend remained silent on the matter, with some fans calling his Instagram caption “the worst mistake of his life.”

As the drama unfolds, all eyes are now on Y/n, waiting to see if she will respond—or if she’ll continue to rise above the storm swirling around her.

After the chaos from Seungcheol’s viral rap performance, Y/n couldn’t stay silent any longer.

Furious over the public spectacle he made, she reached out to him directly—and it wasn’t a pleasant conversation.

The tension was thick the moment he answered.

“What the hell was that, Seungcheol?” Y/n snapped, skipping past pleasantries. “Did you really have to turn this into a public mess?”

Seungcheol sighed, already anticipating this reaction. “I didn’t mention anyone’s name.”

“Don’t play dumb!” Her voice was sharp with frustration. “You knew exactly what you were doing! You turned this into a damn spectacle, and now everyone is talking about it.”

Seungcheol, still heated from everything that had happened, scoffed. “Oh, but your boyfriend’s post wasn’t a spectacle? He went out of his way to take a shot at me, and I was just supposed to stay quiet?”

Y/n exhaled sharply, her patience wearing thin. “You don’t have to stoop to his level! Do you even realize what you’ve done? Fans are eating this up, and now it looks like some childish feud. And me? I’m stuck in the middle of it.”

Seungcheol was silent for a moment before he muttered, “He started it.”

Y/n let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, grow up, Seungcheol. This isn’t about winning or losing. This is my life you keep dragging into the spotlight.”

Her voice softened slightly, but the hurt was still there. “I just wanted to move on. Why couldn’t you let me?”

Seungcheol clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of her words. “Is that really what you wanted?” His voice was quieter now, raw with emotion.

Y/n hesitated for just a second. But she forced herself to stay firm. “Yes. And if you actually cared about me, you would have respected that.”

The call ended before Seungcheol could respond.

For the first time in a long time, he felt like he had truly lost her.

After their heated call, Seungcheol couldn’t shake the guilt gnawing at him. He knew he had hurt Y/n, and no words could undo the mess he had made.

So, instead of words, he chose actions.

Every single day, he sent her favorite flowers, carefully arranged and delivered without a note. He didn’t expect a response—he just wanted her to know that despite everything, he still cared.

At first, Y/n thought it was from a fan or maybe her company, but as the days passed, the steady arrival of fresh bouquets started to make her wonder.

Then, one evening, she finally acknowledged them—posting a picture of the flowers on her Instagram story.

🌸 "One of my fav things." 🌸

Fans immediately flooded the comments with love, but one particular comment caught her attention.

💬 "Minseong is so sweet for doing this!"

Y/n didn’t respond, assuming her boyfriend, Minseong, was the sender. But before she could even process it, a verified comment appeared below.

💬 Seungcheol: "They’re from me."

The internet exploded.

💥 Fans Lost Their Minds 💥

Y/n stared at the comment, her heart dropping into her stomach. She had unknowingly posted a gift from Seungcheol, and now the entire world knew.

💬 "OH MY GOD. SEUNGCHEOL, WHAT?!"

💬 "The audacity… but also… the romance??"

💬 "Minseong is getting secondhand embarrassment right now LMAO."

💬 "This man does NOT give up."

💬 "Y/n, girl, we need a response ASAP."

The moment Minseong saw the comment from Seungcheol, he was furious. His name was trending alongside Seungcheol’s, and fans were speculating about their relationship.

That night, he stormed into Y/n’s apartment, his jaw clenched, his voice laced with anger.

“Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for me?” he snapped, tossing his phone onto the table. “The whole internet thinks I’m some fool who’s been competing with your ex this entire time!”

Y/n, still overwhelmed by everything, took a deep breath. “Minseong, I didn’t know the flowers were from him. I thought—”

“You thought what?!” he cut her off, his voice rising. “That I’d waste my time doing some grand romantic gesture when I know you’re still stuck on him?”

Her eyes widened at his tone. “That’s not fair.”

Minseong let out a bitter laugh. “Fair? You’re the one making me look like an idiot while secretly holding onto the past.” He stepped closer, his presence suddenly suffocating. “You liked it, didn’t you? Knowing he’s still chasing after you?”

Y/n took a step back, her chest tightening. “I didn’t ask for this. I was moving on—with you.”

Minseong scoffed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “No, Y/n. You weren’t. You were just pretending to.”

His words struck deep, but before she could respond, his hand slammed down onto the table, making her flinch. He didn’t hit her, but his anger was dangerously close to boiling over.

That was it. The final straw.

Y/n’s voice was firm, unwavering. “We’re done.”

Minseong froze. “What?”

She exhaled, steadying herself. “This isn’t love, Minseong. You don’t trust me. You don’t respect me. And I refuse to stay in something that makes me feel like this.”

His expression hardened, but he didn’t fight her decision. He knew he had lost. Without another word, he grabbed his things and left, slamming the door behind him.

The moment he was gone, Y/n finally let herself breathe.

It was over. For good.

Following the sudden news of Y/n and Minseong’s breakup, fans speculated about the reasons behind their split—especially after the viral Seungcheol flower incident.

To address the growing rumors, Y/n’s company released an official statement:

📢 [OFFICIAL STATEMENT FROM Y/N’S AGENCY] 📢

*"Hello, this is [Agency Name].

We would like to address recent reports regarding Y/n’s personal life.

After much discussion, Y/n and Minseong have decided to part ways. They will continue to support each other as colleagues and friends. We ask that fans respect their privacy during this time and refrain from spreading speculation that could harm either party.

Regarding the recent online discussions, Y/n has no involvement in any public disputes, and we kindly ask for understanding as she focuses on her career and well-being.

Thank you for your continued support."*

— [Agency Name]

Fan Reactions

Late at night, Y/n’s phone buzzed with a message from a number she hadn’t seen pop up in a long time.

💬 "‘No involvement’?? Her ex-boyfriend literally humiliated her, and they’re acting like nothing happened??"

💬 "I just know Minseong is punching the air right now."

💬 "Seungcheol’s somewhere smirking."

💬 "Hope Y/n is okay. She deserves better."

💬 "They didn’t even deny the flowers were from Seungcheol. Interesting… 👀"

Seungcheol.

Seungcheol: Hey… How are you feeling? Seungcheol: I heard about everything. I just… I wanted to check on you.

Y/n stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She knew she should ignore him. After everything that had happened, after all the chaos, it would be easier to just move on.

But a part of her—the part that still remembered how safe he once made her feel—couldn’t.

Y/n: I’m fine.

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Seconds later, her phone started ringing. Seungcheol was calling.

She hesitated before answering. “What do you want, Seungcheol?”

His voice was gentle, laced with something softer than usual. “I wanted to hear your voice, baby.”

Y/n’s breath hitched. “Don’t call me that.”

He chuckled, but there was an undeniable sadness behind it. “I can’t help it. You’ll always be my baby.”

She closed her eyes, gripping the edge of her blanket. “You don’t get to say that anymore.”

Seungcheol sighed. “I know I messed up. I know I’ve made things worse instead of better. But I meant what I said… I’m not giving up on you.”

Y/n swallowed, her heart racing. “You can’t just decide that.”

“But I can decide to keep trying,” he countered, voice firm. “I let you go once. I’m not making that mistake again.”

Silence stretched between them. Y/n hated how her heart betrayed her in that moment, how it ached at the sound of his voice, how it longed to believe him.

“I don’t know if I can do this again, Seungcheol,” she whispered.

He exhaled, his voice softer this time. “Then let me show you that you can.”

The world was buzzing with excitement—both Seventeen and Y/n had been nominated for the Billboard Music Awards. Social media exploded with congratulations, and fans couldn’t stop talking about how fate kept bringing them back into the same spaces.

That night, Y/n was in her hotel room when her phone lit up. Seungcheol was calling.

She stared at the screen, debating whether to pick up. But a part of her already knew—she would always answer when it was him.

With a sigh, she swiped the call open. “What do you want now, Seungcheol?”

His deep chuckle came through the line. “Can’t I just call to congratulate my baby?”

She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

“I’ll stop when you stop running away from me,” he said smoothly.

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. “I’m not running.”

Seungcheol scoffed. “Then tell me why every time I reach out, you push me away. Every time I try to come closer, you take another step back.”

She clenched her jaw, looking away as if he could see her through the phone. “Because it’s easier that way, Seungcheol. You and I… we always end up hurting each other.”

His voice softened. “Not always.”

“Enough times.”

A pause. Then, “And yet… here we are. Still picking up each other’s calls.”

Y/n closed her eyes. He wasn’t wrong. No matter how hard she tried to stay away, something kept pulling them back together.

“Just tell me one thing, baby.” His voice was quieter now, more vulnerable. “Is there still a part of you that wants me?”

Silence.

Y/n knew her answer. But she also knew that saying it out loud would mean stepping back into a storm she wasn’t sure she could handle.

So instead, she whispered, “Goodnight, Seungcheol.”

And then she hung up—leaving him with the silence that said everything he needed to know.

The stadium roared with cheers as Seventeen was announced as the winner. The members hugged, overwhelmed with emotions as they took the stage to accept their first-ever Billboard Music Award.

Backstage, the energy was electric. Staff members, fellow artists, and friends were congratulating them left and right. Amid the chaos, Y/n found them.

Dressed in a sleek black outfit, she approached with a small smile. “Congratulations, Guys.”

The members turned to her, pleasantly surprised. Seungkwan was the first to pull her into a hug, followed by Joshua and Hoshi. They had always been close to her, and despite everything that had happened, there was no awkwardness—only warmth.

Then, her eyes met Seungcheol’s.

He stepped forward, his expression unreadable. “You are here.”

Y/n smirked. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

The members exchanged knowing looks before slowly dispersing, giving them space.

Now alone in a quieter corner of the backstage area, Seungcheol studied her carefully.

“Thank you for coming,” he said softly.

She shrugged. “You worked hard for it. You deserved to win.”

Seungcheol took a step closer. “And do I deserve another chance?”

Y/n inhaled sharply. “Seungcheol—”

“Listen to me, baby,” he cut in gently. “I know I’ve messed up before. I know I let you go when I shouldn’t have. But I swear to you, I’ve never stopped loving you.”

Her heart pounded, but she kept her face neutral. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know,” he admitted. “But I also know you still feel something for me. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he was right, and they both knew it.

Seungcheol sighed and reached for her hand, his touch hesitant but warm. “One date. That’s all I’m asking. No pressure, no expectations. Just you and me, like old times.”

Y/n bit her lip, her walls threatening to crumble.

One date.

That was all.

What was the worst that could happen?

“…Fine,” she whispered.

Seungcheol’s face broke into a boyish grin, his dimples showing. “Really?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s just one date.”

He chuckled, squeezing her hand. “One date is all I need.”

Breaking News: Seungcheol & Y/n Spotted on a Date!

The entertainment industry was buzzing with new headlines the morning after Seungcheol and Y/n’s long-awaited reunion.

Photos had surfaced of the two enjoying a quiet evening at a luxurious yet cozy restaurant. Fans noted how they laughed easily, leaned close to talk, and looked at each other like no time had passed.

🔹 "Seventeen’s Seungcheol & Y/n Reignite Romance? Spotted on an Intimate Date!"

🔹 "Old Flames Reunite: Seungcheol and Y/n Seen Boarding the Same Flight Together!"

🔹 "Eagle-Eyed Fans Notice Y/n Wearing Her Old Engagement Ring—Is Love Back in the Air?"

“Look at the way Seungcheol is staring at her… He’s so in love.” – A fan commented on Twitter.

“It’s crazy how they just fit together. Like they were never apart.”

If the dinner date wasn’t enough, a bigger surprise came the next morning when both Seungcheol and Y/n were spotted at the airport—boarding the same flight.

Fans went into a frenzy.

A Few Months Later…

“Where are they going together??”

“This feels like a drama plot… a romantic getaway???”

It started with a simple Instagram post.

Y/n wasn’t one to flaunt her personal life, but tonight, something felt different. She uploaded a picture of her hand resting against a bouquet of white roses—and on her ring finger, a brand-new engagement ring sparkled under the dim light.

💍 CAPTION: “Some things are worth finding your way back to.”

The internet exploded.

🔥 BREAKING NEWS: Y/n Is Engaged!

"Months after rekindling her romance with Seungcheol, fans noticed Y/n sporting a dazzling engagement ring. While no official statement has been released, the caption and the ring say it all!"

As the world celebrated, somewhere in the quiet of their own little world, Seungcheol pulled Y/n into his arms and whispered against her forehead:

📝 Fans React:

💬 “THEY’RE REALLY ENDGAME OMG 😭😭”

💬 “Seungcheol, you romantic fool, YOU DID IT!!”

💬 “The way this love story has come full circle… I’M SOBBING.”

“Told you I’d never stop trying, baby."

Seungcheol Confirms Marriage to Y/n—Fans Go Wild!

Seventeen’s leader, Choi Seungcheol, has just dropped the biggest bombshell during an album promotion event—he and Y/n are officially married!

"We Got Married Recently" – Seungcheol’s Unexpected Announcement

During an interview for Seventeen’s latest album, the members were discussing the inspiration behind their new songs. When asked about the meaning behind a particularly heartfelt track, Seungcheol smiled knowingly.

“This one’s special. It’s about someone I love. Actually… I guess it’s the perfect time to say it—Y/n and I recently got married.”

The room went silent for a second before exploding into chaos.

The members clapped and cheered. The interviewers were speechless, fumbling for words before finally stuttering, “Wait—married?! Like, officially?”

Seungcheol grinned. “Yeah. Officially.”

As if that wasn’t enough, minutes after the interview aired, Seungcheol posted a never-before-seen picture of Y/n on his Instagram.

The photo was simple yet stunning—Y/n sitting in their living room, wearing one of Seungcheol’s oversized hoodies, holding a cup of tea with a soft smile.

The caption?

“Wifey. ❤️”

The Internet Breaks: Fans & Celebrities React

Within minutes, social media exploded.

Even celebrities joined in.

🔹 "WHAT DO YOU MEAN WIFEY????? SEUNGCHEOL PLEASE EXPLAIN.”

🔹 “Not only are they back together, THEY’RE ACTUALLY MARRIED. MY HEART CAN’T TAKE THIS.”

🔹 "This man just dropped a marriage announcement like it was a casual Tuesday.”

Jeonghan commented: “Wow, we lost him for real. Congrats, bro.”

Seungkwan: “I DESERVE CREDIT FOR THIS!!!”

Hoshi: “Does this mean I can still be part of your love story? 😭”

Following Seungcheol’s viral "Wifey ❤️" post, fans eagerly waited for Y/n’s response—and she did not disappoint.

She uploaded a candid photo of Seungcheol in their home, wearing a cozy sweater, running a hand through his hair as he smiled at something off-camera.

The caption?

“Hubby ❤️”

As expected, the internet went absolutely wild.

Mingyu: “Wow, you two are really doing this, huh?”

🔹 “WIFEY AND HUBBY POSTS ON THE SAME DAY???? THEY ARE SO IN LOVE I’M CRYING.”

🔹 “Y/n is now officially the luckiest person alive. Like. LOOK AT HIM.”

🔹 “THEY REALLY GOT MARRIED AND NOW THEY’RE CASUALLY POSTING ABOUT IT LIKE THIS ISN’T THE BIGGEST NEWS EVER.”

Jeonghan: “I give it 3 months before Seungcheol starts posting ‘My wife is the most beautiful person in the world’ every single day.”

Woozi: “Congrats, now please stop writing sad songs about her.”

Felix (Stray Kids): “This is actually the cutest thing I’ve seen in my life.”

After days of trending worldwide, Seungcheol and Y/n finally sat down for their first official interview as husband and wife. Fans had been eagerly waiting to hear their love story straight from them, and the couple did not hold back!

1️⃣ Why Did Y/n Give Seungcheol a Second Chance?

💬 Y/n: “A lot of people asked me this, and honestly, I asked myself the same thing at first. But… Seungcheol never stopped trying. Even when I was stubborn, even when I told him to move on, he just kept proving to me—through his actions, not just words—that his love for me never changed.”

💬 Seungcheol: [laughs shyly] “It was never even a question for me. I just knew she was the one, and I was willing to wait however long it took.”

2️⃣ How Did Seungcheol Propose?

💬 Seungcheol: “I was nervous. Like, really nervous. I had planned everything perfectly, but when the moment came, my hands were shaking.”

💬 Y/n: [laughs] “I noticed! He dropped the ring box at one point.”

💬 Seungcheol: “I wanted it to be special, but at the same time, I didn’t want some big public thing. So, I took her to the place where we had our very first date. Just the two of us. I told her everything I felt—why I loved her, why I’d never stop choosing her. And then I got down on one knee and asked.”

💬 Y/n: “And I said yes. Obviously.”

3️⃣ How Did the Seventeen Members Help?

💬 Seungcheol: [groans] “Oh my God. They were worse than me.”

💬 Y/n: “It was adorable, actually.”

💬 Seungcheol: “So, before I proposed, the guys decided they had to be involved. I thought they’d just help with the setup or something, but no… they insisted on singing ‘Marry Me’ by Jason Derulo while I was proposing.”

💬 Y/n: “I walked into the venue and suddenly all of Seventeen was standing there, singing with way too much passion.”

💬 Seungcheol: “Jeonghan was even pretending to wipe tears like he was my mother.”

💬 Y/n: [laughing] “It was so chaotic but also the sweetest thing ever.”

4️⃣ Why Did You Keep the Marriage a Secret for So Long?

💬 Y/n: “We really wanted to enjoy this moment for ourselves first. In this industry, so much of our lives is public, and we just wanted a little while where it was just us.”

5️⃣ How Did Seungcheol Win Y/n Over Again?

💬 Y/n: [teasingly] “He was persistent. Annoyingly so.”

💬 Seungcheol: “I sent her flowers every day, wrote her letters, checked in on her, reminded her of all the little things I remembered about her. I just wanted her to know that no matter how much time passed, my love for her never changed.”

💬 Y/n: “At first, I was so set on keeping my distance, but then one day… I realized I didn’t want to run anymore.”

💬 Seungcheol: “So, you admit I won?”

💬 Y/n: [laughs] “You never had to ‘win.’ You were already the one.”

6️⃣ Final Thoughts?

💬 Seungcheol: “I know our story has been crazy—lots of ups and downs. But I think that’s what makes it special. We grew, we changed, and we still found our way back to each other. And now… I get to call her my wife.”

💬 Y/n: “And I get to call him my husband.”

💬 Seungcheol: [grinning at her] “Best title I’ve ever had.”

As expected, social media exploded with love and admiration for the couple.

🔹 “This is literally a K-drama but real life.”

🔹 “Seventeen SINGING while he proposed? I need a documentary on this whole love story.”

🔹 “They were always meant to be. I’m so happy for them.”

With their love stronger than ever, Seungcheol and Y/n’s journey continues—but this time, as husband and wife.

the life i deserve. final part. LN4. OP81

in which reader unexpectedly falls pregnant but her current boyfriend can't say no to his party lifestyle so he leaves her. who better to fill his place than his teammate.

faceclaim: hailey bieber

author's note: and we have reached the end of this series, thank you all for making this my most successful series yet. have your say on the next one here

part one // part two // part three // part four // part five // part six

y/ninsta posted a story tagging oscarpiastri

written: see you soon aus

logansargeant posted a story tagging rileywhittall

written: heading to aus with this one

y/ninsta posted a story tagging oscarpiastri and logansargeant

written: i wonder if the other driver's are spending their winter break explaining sports to a baby

rileywhittall posted a story

written: spending all month with lil man ready for his first christmas

f1gossip

liked by user36, user37, user38 and 329,283 others

f1gossip: guys this is not a drill oscar and y/n have been spotted cuddling up with one another while out at dinner with riley and logan. does this confirm everyone's suspicions

view all 18,729 comments

user36: poor lando

user37: are you fucking stupid, lando is the one that left y/n pregnant and alone, he will never be the victim here

user38: mum and dad

user39: i am so happy for them

user40: y/n deserves all the happiness imaginable

oscarpiastri posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: never been happier

y/ninsta posted a story tagging oscarpiastri

written: my boys

y/ninsta posted a story

written: merry christmas my loves

logansargeant posted a story

written: got to start them off young

oscarpiastri

liked by y/ninsta, rileywhittall, charlesleclerc and 1,358,839 others

tagged: y/ninsta

oscarpiastri: i didn't need a christmas present this year, i've got all i need

view all 57,928 comments

y/ninsta: we both love you so much

oscarpiastri: i love you both more

georgerussell3: so happy for you mate

oscarpiastri: thank you man

logansargeant: riley is already planning double dates

oscarpiastri: y/n is excited. i'm scared

rileywhittall: see good things happen when you communicate with the person you love

oscarpiastri: words of wisdom

charlesleclerc: does this mean baby luka in the paddock next year

oscarpiastri: of course

charlesleclerc: alex just squealed in my ear, i'm deaf now

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NEW SERIES ALERT!

"the paths we didn't take" - a charles leclerc x female!reader story

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

years ago, charles leclerc and y/n were everything to each other—the kind of love that felt unbreakable, the kind you never see coming but never think will end. but they made a promise, one that broke both their hearts. after high school, they would let each other go. charles had his dreams of racing, and y/n had a world to explore, and they agreed it wasn’t fair to hold each other back.

so they did it. they cut all ties, erased each other from their lives, and tried to move on. no calls, no texts, not even a glance at an old photo. they built separate lives, pretending that what they had was just a chapter—until now.

when a chance meeting brings them back together in the streets of monaco, the weight of everything unsaid crashes down. the years have changed them, but some feelings are impossible to forget. can they face the pain of the choices they made, or are some loves meant to stay lost?

and finally the question remains, can you ever truly let go of your first love?

comment to get added to taglist!

Enraptured {I}

Emperor Geta x Innocent Acacius!Reader request: no gif credits: @freckledjoes divider credits: @arcielee Summary: Geta becomes enraptured with Acacius' innocent daughter Y/n. A dangerous obsession begins to take over. Warnings: 18+, MDNI, sexual thoughts, seduction, obsessive nature, possesive!geta, mentions of oral sex (f receving), dry humping, feelings?, sweet talking, manipulation, geta does have a heart (if you squint), jealous!geta Word Count: 4.7k Disclaimer: I don't own Gladiator II or its characters, nor do I claim them as my own Comments, likes and reblogs are always adored and appreciated xx this fic is inspired by: Florence and the Machine - Howl

If you'd like to, you can also listen to the ambient music that I listened to, which helped me write the story. Preferably in the order I've listed the music, it helps create a more atmospheric reading mood <3 palace gardens (day) palace gardens (night)

oof, i wrote this over the span of three nights at 4am, hope you all enjoy it <3 part II coming soon

Geta took the throne following his father's death, alongside his ill-fated brother, Caracalla. Both twins ruled with a ruthless desire for control—a desire for true power. But instead of focusing solely on politics and war, his mind found itself increasingly occupied by the image of a girl he'd only seen fleetingly. Her name was Y/n, the daughter of General Marcus Acacius, a man whose loyalty to the empire was as unwavering as his reputation was formidable. He had seen her at the victory parade beside her father on their chariot when the General returned from his recent victory conquest in Numidia. It may have only been a brief glimpse, but it had been enough. Y/n was a striking beauty in a bold and ever-changing Roman society. However, she possessed a softer charm, a quiet grace that drew Geta in like a moth to a flame. She was an oasis in the desert of scheming courtiers and ruthless assassins to seek refuge, and Geta fell toward her with such intensity bordering on desperation. Dying of a quenching thirst he had never known until he had laid eyes upon her. Geta, though, was prone to fits of tyrannical rage, yet, beneath the surface, a flicker of softness occasionally surfaced, a vulnerability he fiercely guarded. It was only ever reserved for his brother to ease his own fits due to his illness. No one else had that privilege. However, the constant weight of bearing the whole of Rome on his shoulders and monitoring Caracalla at times grew too much for him to handle. 

That is how he found himself in the palace gardens one day, where he found her. The object of his hidden affections, the reason for his thoughts to drown out the senate's boring words. The very woman who created his obsession to take over his entire being. Geta approached her from behind, listening to her hum a gentle tune. The ever-so-soft breeze blew her strands of hair as her fingers brushed the flowers delicately. A butterfly flittered above, and she held out her finger for the flying insect to land Y/n smiled. “Hello, my friend. What a marvellous day for an adventure.” A light giggle emitted from her plump lips. Geta’s eyes glittered with adoration and masked the lingering hunger inside him before making his presence known.

“It’s not often I find myself in the company of an ethereal goddess like yourself, my lady.” His voice startled her; the sudden sharp movement in her body made the butterfly leave her finger. Her doe eyes found Geta with a frightened stare. Geta immediately realised his mistake, rushing toward her with a hand raised to show he meant no harm. “My sincere apologies, my lady. Do not be afraid.” He smiled. Y/n softly gathered her skirt as she moved away from him slightly. “Emperor Geta.” She bowed her head in respect, loose strands of her hair falling beside her face; the immediate response of obedience made Geta’s heart swell. Tilting her chin to face him, his fingers lingered on her skin longer than he intended. Y/n’s lashes fluttered as she smiled timidly, and a light blush appeared on her cheeks.

Geta removed his fingers, and a soft hum filled his chest. “So…tell me, are the gods displeased?” He smirked, and the glint in his chocolate eyes made her release a light-hearted laugh. “I couldn’t know what you mean; I’ve never met them, Emperor.” She answered with a light tease. Geta’s smirk widened as he leaned forward to whisper. “I believe they would be jealous that you’d rather spend your time here than with them.” Y/n, too, leans forward slightly; her gaze also flickers downwards briefly before meeting Geta’s gaze again. “Why are we whispering Emperor?” She asked. Geta chuckled, looking over his shoulder and then up to the sky. “I may be a vessel for the gods, but that does not mean they would take it lightly; their most beautiful goddess is occupying her time with me.” The tip of his nose caressed hers gently; the sudden close contact made Y/n retract, and her breathing grew heavy. Geta smiled, his fingers tracing her palm before his thumb traced over her pulse in her wrist. “You needn’t be so nervous around me. But perhaps you're a nymph; I’ve read how timid they can be.” He murmured. The compliment made her blush even more. “Your father speaks of you often; my brother and I have asked him to bring you to our festivities; he always seems to have an excuse not to bring you.” He told her with a light pout appearing on his face. 

Y/n took in a small, sharp inhale. “I apologise, Emperor. It’s not my father’s doing entirely; I’m inexperienced with court life. Also, Lucilla and I spend most of the days together. Reading and walking.” She explained to Geta; his head tilted, and the corner of his lips tugged into a grin. “Ah, yes, Lucilla. Between her and your father, they’ve kept you in a gilded cage. Such innocence must be preserved, I understand. But little nymph…” His voice trailed off, and his bronze irises stared into hers. His gaze heated and filled with an intense fire. The sight made Y/n’s breathing falter slightly; the deep crimson eyeshadow around Geta’s eyes made his stare more penetrating. He leaned in a little more, their lips almost touching as if he were teasing her with the promise of a kiss. “Do you not wish for more? To see more? 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞?” He breathed heavily, his fingers caressing her jaw and moving up to her cheek. “I-I do not know what to say…” Y/n’s words fell short, and the combination of Geta’s touch, words, and closeness overwhelmed her. “Emperor Geta.” Y/n moved away and stood quickly, brushing her hands over her dress. “You must forgive me, I-” She began, her breathing growing uneven as she stepped away. “My father, if he were to find out about this exchange…it’s improper. Whispers will be said about us.” Geta’s brows furrowed, his eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched as he stood. “Should anyone feel the need to whisper anything about their Emperor and the General’s daughter improperly, Caracalla has always expressed an interest in servants participating in our games.” He gave a broad smile Y/n still kept her distance as she heard her name being called in the distance by a guard. “Lady Acacius, your father has requested we bring you home. The evening will be upon us soon.” Y/n smiled at her guard, turning to face Geta curtising gracefully. Geta observed her through hooded eyes, flickering down to her body as she stood to her full height, her gaze still on the ground. Geta released a light chuckle before once again tilting her chin up. “Oh sweet nymph, your innocence is most…𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠.” 

⋆。˚☽˚。⋆⋆。˚☽˚。⋆⋆。˚☽˚。⋆

Geta rested his hands on his marble terrace, hearing the loud chatter of his brother entering his private chambers. “Brother! The games begin today, and I am ready to command blood to be spilt!” Caracalla clapped. Geta entered his chambers, a soft smile upon his face at his twin brother. Nodding, he sipped his wine and pointed to Caracalla with a maddening grin. “The gods, they seem quite unmerciful. I can feel it.” They both laughed, and the manic look in their eyes matched the others. All the gladiators would have to pray that today could be their last.

While in the palace, lively chatter and excitement filled the halls and chambers alike, and the joy of the gladiator games took place to honour General Marcus Acacius. Not the same could be said in the home of the Acacius’ home. Marcus fiddled with the ring on his finger as Lucilla adjusted his cloak with a warm smile on her facial features. Marcus’s soulful eyes softened at his wife, finally feeling at peace and being back in her warmth. “Y/n and I have missed you dearly, Y/n more so. As much as I worry and long for your return and safety, your daughter fears the most out of us both. She lost her mother; she does not want to lose you.” Lucilla’s soft-spoken voice made Marcus’ heart clench at the memory of losing Y/n’s mother. “If something were to ever happen to me, she has you. She adores you Lucilla.” Marcus smiled; his brown eyes shined with love. Lucilla’s smile widened her fingers, delicately resting the Acacius brooch on her husband’s cloak. Her eyes looked over Marcus’ shoulder, and her face brightened once again. “Y/n, dear, you look beautiful.” Y/n nervously fiddled with the dress, made from the finest silks and gold embroidery—a gift from Geta. “I’ve never seen that dress before. Is it new?” Marcus asked Y/n nodded as she spun in a circle. “A gift from Emperor Geta. Isn’t it wonderful? Lavender is my favourite colour. Today, he even gifted me my favourite poems by Virgil. He told me it brings him joy to see me happy. However, I do not know how he found out about these things. Perhaps he heard from you, father.” She giggled softly as she ran out of the lavender dress flowing behind her. Y/n’s innocence filled Marcus with dread; his sweet daughter was unaware of Emperor Geta and his true intentions. Marcus felt helpless. To move against an Emperor, especially one as mad and a tyrant as Geta and Caracalla, then Marcus would surely pay with his life. “Lucilla. We must move forward with our plans with the Senate. Y/n is now involved; whatever web Geta has weaved her in, I can not- I will not let him entrap her.” He let out a shaky breath. 

The night festivities Geta loved as much as the games, the loud laughter of the senate filling their body with endless wine and food. The music played as concubines, slaves, and whores danced for entertainment. Geta observed carefully with a heavy glare as Caracalla spoke with Y/n, the two laughing at one of Caracalla’s playful remarks about one of their servants. Geta’s hand gripped his throne, trying to hold his composure. Seeing Y/n in her new lavender dress, which he had gifted her, made her body look even more heavenly and beautiful, even if it were even possible. His eyes constantly raked over her figure, imagining tearing the fabric from her body. Adjusting himself in his throne, he felt his cock harden at the thought of having his way with Y/n. He could see her underneath him, moaning and writhing in pleasure. His gaze darkened further as Dondus jumped up and down on Caracalla’s shoulder, his tiny blue linen dress bouncing in tow. “And this is?” Y/n gestured to Dondus with a bright smile. Caracalla held out his arm for Dondus to approach Y/n, and the capuchin happily rubbed his head on Y/n’s open palm. “This is Dondus, my closest friend and trusted ally.” He expressed with a giggle.

“Aww, he’s so sweet. Does he always embrace strangers so quickly?” Caracalla shook his head. “It seems you may be his new favourite. For that, you may never be able to leave the palace now.” Before laughing, Y/n laughed too as Dondus hopped onto her lap, spinning in circles and clapping his hands. “He’s putting on a show for me. Aren’t you charming?” Y/n cooed. Caracalla turned to Geta with a snide grin. “He dislikes Geta; he’s always peeing on him. Be careful; brother Dondus may do so if you get too close to Y/n now.” Y/n fluttered her lashes over to Geta, smiling at his brother’s comment. Her breath hitched in her throat, seeing Geta’s hungry stare upon her.

“Oh, I’m sure Dondus will understand. The three of you can share me. There’s plenty of love to go around.” She nuzzled her nose against his. The capuchin chittered, climbing up so Y/n could hold him in her hands. Geta smiled, licking his lips as he narrowed his eyes before sipping his wine. After he sat his goblet down, he leant over. “Dondus would think twice about committing such an act toward me, brother. He knows the boundaries. But as our dear Y/n said, I’m sure we can share her. Though it’s fair to say, she’ll become more fond of my company.” He flickered his gaze to Y/n, a wicked grin on his face, standing from his throne.

“Would you like to retreat somewhere quieter, my little nymph?” He bowed with his hand stretched out. Y/n looked up with a nod of her head and stretched out her arm for Dondus to climb back to Caracalla. Slipping her hand into his waiting palm. Geta helped her stand as she bowed to Caracalla. “It was lovely speaking with you, Caracalla. I’m sure we are going to be great friends.” Y/n kissed Caracalla’s ring. The younger twin grinned happily and nodded enthusiastically. “And it was my pleasure becoming acquainted with you, Dondus.” The monkey jumped up and down, spinning in a circle again before posing with his hands in the air. Y/n clapped softly. “Bravo, my dear friend.” She giggled as Geta pulled her to his body with a possessive grip, his jealousy becoming apparent.

If you could only see the beast you've made of me. I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free.

Caracalla smirked knowingly whilst giggling to himself, kicking his feet while doing so. Seeing his brother jealous was the icing on the cake for the evening. Something Caracalla always liked most was making his brother envious; Geta glared at his twin fire burning in his eyes. “Not. A. Word.” He pointed to his brother, removing himself and Y/n from the festivities; Caracalla's distant laughter made Geta’s jealousy burn brighter. The crackling of fire and cicadas filled the night. Geta led Y/n to his private garden near his chambers; the distant sound of a lyre playing created a serene, calming atmosphere. Y/n looked at the blanket of stars glittering in the sky.

“The stars are especially bright tonight. My father and I have always loved observing them and seeing the constellations. The stories of the gods. Do you agree-” Y/n turned to face Geta, whose eyes were only fixed on her. Geta raised his hand to her face, tracing his knuckle along her cheek and ran his fingers through her hair, twirling some loose strands. “If it’s possible, you're even more beautiful in the evening, little nymph. Lavender is your colour; 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲.” Heat spread across her cheeks at his compliment. “You flatter me, Emperor.” She replied, eyes cast down, and her nervousness began to show.

Geta laughed lightly; his fingers touched her chin, tilting her face to look at him. “You may call me Geta when we are alone, my dear.” Geta murmured Y/n’s heart began to race. Both were leaning into one another, their noses brushing, the building infatuation between them growing more apparent with each passing moment. Being this close to a man, let alone an Emperor, made her feel dizzy. “Geta…” Her voice was weak as Geta rubbed his cheek along hers, breathing in the sweet scent of her jasmine bath oils. “I-is this allowed?” She blinked, looking around to see if anyone could be watching. “Mmm, it’s quite alright.” His voice was sultry thick with lust, sending goosebumps all over her body. Geta wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her tightly. His lips found her pulse point, his nose brushing along the side of her throat. Y/n let out a soft moan, her eyes fluttering closed at the sensation. Geta grinned, sweeping his hand up her thigh and moving aside the dress at its slit, exposing her leg. 

The coolness of his rings soothed her heated skin, and Y/n’s body involuntarily moved closer to Geta. The dull ache between her legs made her whine lowly, the unknown sensations in her body making her mind hazy with confusion. “Can you keep a secret?” Geta’s voice was low and intimate, his breath fanning her cheek, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. The tip traced the edge of her lips. A little whimper emitted from her parted lips. “What kind of secret?” Feeling weightless in his embrace, Geta pulled her leg over his waist, and Y/n held onto his shoulder for support. “The very kind that could change your life. I have desires, Y/n—dark ones.” Y/n swallowed, and a tremulous breath escaped her brows furrowed slightly in confusion. “Desires?” She whispered, the word heavy with a sense of curiosity. 

Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart. Drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart.

Geta’s eyes darkened, and the heat in his stare made her feel like an animal caught in a cage. “Would you like me to show you?” His fingers trail over her exposed collarbone slowly toward her chest. He smirked at her little gasp, leaning in to graze his lips along hers, their breathing heavy with anticipation. “If I were to slip my fingers between your legs…” He whispered, moving his hand further up her thigh, dangerously close to where she ached for him the most. “I believe I would know all I need too.” Y/n blinked the moon reflecting in her eyes, making her even more sinless to him. “And what would that be?” She asked him, desperation filling her voice. The young Emperor laughed, biting his lip, his Adam’s apple bopping heavily. “That your body wants me as much as mine wants yours.” Y/n’s lips parted, and a choked moan tumbled out as she adjusted herself to sit on his lap fully. Feeling brave, Y/n licked her lips and pressed her lips to Geta’s; it was all the consent Geta needed; a deep growl rumbled in his chest, and the sweet, innocent kiss soon turned heated. A clash of teeth and tongues melting into one another. A startled moan fell from her lips, allowing Geta to slide his tongue into her mouth. Gathering his robes into balls in her palms, Y/n rolled her hips experimentally, feeling his hard cock press against her aching core. Peppering kisses along her jaw toward her neck, Geta placed his hands on her hips in a deathly hold; the possessive grip made Y/n gasp, clutching onto Geta’s shoulders. “𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐚…” Y/n tried to speak, her voice failing her as Geta breathed heavily, his lips finding hers, silencing her with another hunger-filled kiss. “𝐘/𝐧…” He groaned between pants as she melted into him, the warmth of his body igniting a desire she never knew existed but now setting them alight. Yet with every kiss, every heated touch, the intoxicating thrill of the forbidden. She let herself be swept away, lost in the depths of his chocolate eyes, the rough yet tender touch of his hands upon her body, the promise of something more. Whatever spell he had put her under, Y/n surrendered willingly. Geta’s eyes shined at the uncorrupt girl above him; her angelic sounds made him grow harder. Her flushed cheeks and porcelain-like skin glowed under the moon’s brightness. “You are making it troublesome for me to withhold myself from ravaging you, 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐡.” His tongue darted out to slide along Y/n’s bottom lip, their pants of breath filling one another’s mouths. “You speak so boldly, my Emperor.” Geta smiled, running his fingers through her hair and tugging the strands gently yet firmly. “Boldness is necessary in my position. Those who seek power must be. But with you, I find myself wanting to be more than bold. To be impulsive. Reckless. To… 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞.” He murmured, resting his head on hers, pushing her dress further up her leg to her hips. “Consume?” She whispered, intoxicated by the alluring promise in his words. 

Draping her wrists over his shoulders, rolling her hips faster, the idle yearning inside creeping to the surface at a rapid pace. She knew it could be wrong, forbidden to be involved with a man that is not her husband. Let alone an Emperor. But for so long, she had been sheltered away from the society of Rome, where concubines roamed the streets and delighted in orgies—the violent games filled with spilling of gladiator’s blood—the dangers of being lured into a web of deceit and power-hungry ego-filled men. Y/n understood why her father and Lucilla kept her away from it all, but to keep her away from all of that, they kept her away from Geta. Someone who, the moment she met, she felt an instant pull and attraction. How could you possibly stay away from him now?

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Y/n pulled him closer, her fingers slowly working through his ginger locks. The gold laurel shone from the moon’s beam as she removed it from his head. Geta watched her movements, and a wolfish grin spread across his lips. “A promise, of course, my sweet Y/n. Though perhaps to others it can be seen as a threat.” He replied, his intense and unwavering. No matter how often they shared a gaze, each one grew more fervent than the last. “Consuming something can be dangerous.”

Y/n spoke with a shaky breath, her nerves growing unsteady. Silence fell between them as Geta thrust his hips upwards Y/n cried out, the jolt of pleasure rippling through her.

Kissing the column of her throat, Geta moaned lowly, arms looped around her back, pressing their chests together. He could feel the wetness of her arousal seeping through her undergarments and into his robes. “Will you allow me?” He guided her hips to move harder Y/n moaned, clutching onto his robes, her legs shaking at the contact of her body moving against his. “I can give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Whatever your heart desires, it’s yours. Allow me to have you, all of you. And in return, you will have all of me.” Geta released a broken moan Y/n shivered, nodding wordlessly; she threw her head back as Geta’s eyes gleamed darkly; his hands tugged and pulled at her dress, sourcing any part of skin he could grab. Grunting through his bared teeth, Geta rolled them over, pining her beneath him as he rutted his hips between her parted legs. Y/n arched her back, leaving Geta to assault her with rough kisses and teasing love bites littering her skin—marking her as his.

My fingers claw your skin, try to tear my way in. You are the moon that breaks the night for which I have to howl.

“That’s it, sweet girl. So pretty spread out under me; how would the gods feel to see their precious nymph being seduced by the Emperor? Helplessly watching as she succumbs to his dark charms.” He panted their moans, filling the air, the rustling over the clothes rubbing against each other, Y/n’s whimpers ringing through Geta’s ears and leaning into the whisper in her ear, pressing his body firmly to hers. “I can only imagine how you would look sprawled on my bed, my head between your legs as I feasted on your cunt.” He groaned, his eyes falling closed, imagining the scene in his mind Y/n gripped his hair harder at his words. “Or perhaps you would prefer first I take you with my cock, claim your virtue for myself. Steal you away from your father, bind you to me. Lavish you with jewels, the finest dresses fit for an Empress. We can lay in bed to our heart's content, making love until the early hours of dawn to the late hours of the evening.” He rested a hand on the globe of her ass, wrapping a leg around his waist. “Your heart will be safe with me. I will protect you with my life. Without you, I am nothing.” His voice was laced with temptation and desperation. “This feels…I want it. I want you.” She confessed, eyes wide with wonder and blown with lust. A shattered moan broke free her body, shaking waves of countless pleasure spread through as she came undone. Geta groaned, he too, reaching his release; their bodies grew still. “Good.” He said, a sinister grin spreading across his face. 

⋆。˚☽˚。⋆⋆。˚☽˚。⋆⋆。˚☽˚。⋆

The following morning, Y/n awoke in an unfamiliar bed as she rolled onto her side, her hand falling on a warm chest. The soft breathing of another reached her ears. Raising her head slowly, she saw Geta sound asleep, his features gentle and warm. The early morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a relaxing glow. His eyes blinked open, sensing he was being watched; he stretched his arm out, fingers running over her cheek. “Mmm, this is a sight I could get used to.” He grinned Y/n blushed, running her fingers through her hair before tracing patterns on his chest. “Did you mean anything you spoke of last night? I do not know much of such emotions and how men and women show affection to one another. But I’ve never felt these feelings until I met you in the gardens that day. Tell me, am I risking my heart being broken by you, Geta?” She murmured, fear and uncertainty swirling in her eyes.

Geta sat up, resting on his elbow; he frowned, his thumb pulling her lip gently before swiping down her chin. Y/n caught his wrist; her nervous breathing caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes, tugging her forward. Y/n gasped as he held her hips firmly, pressing her to his body. The corner of his lips curled into a slight smirk, capturing her lips in a breath-stealing possessive kiss Y/n’s inhibitions melted away, feeling Geta cradle her cheek with his hand. After a few moments, Geta pulled away. Y/n chased his lips, and a dreamy sigh was emitting from her. “Does that answer your question, my love?” He purred as Y/n was about to answer, but they were interrupted when Caracalla burst into Geta’s chambers. “Brother! What is taking-” He shouted before pausing in the middle of the room, a wide grin forming.“Oh, have I interrupted your and Lady Y/n’s morning delights?” Geta glared at his twin, shielding Y/n protectively under his bedsheets. “Caracalla, leave now; give us some privacy!” He shouted Y/n tucked her face in Geta’s chest, embarrassment flooding over her as Caracalla snickered, clapping his hands. “Do not be embarrassed in front of me, Lady Y/n. I am…well acquainted with a woman’s figure.” He licked his bottom lip, and a teasing laugh fell from the twin Emperor’s lips.

Geta’s jaw clenched, his grip growing unbearably tight on Y/n’s body. Wincing slightly at the pain, she wriggled in his grasp. “𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚. 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞. 𝐍𝐨𝐰.” His voice fell dark and threatening. Caracalla giggled, then sighed dramatically as he left the chambers. Geta’s grip loosened, much to Y/n’s relief. “Would you like to join me as my guest for today’s games? It’s about the naval wars, quite exciting.” He smiled Y/n hesitantly and nodded whilst taking a breath. “I must apologise in advance, Geta. I do not stomach blood and violence well.” Geta nuzzled his nose against her cheek. “That’s quite alright; you will not dishonour me if you turn away. It’s more of a plea to keep you by my side.” With a playful glint in his chocolate eyes, Y/n giggled, her fingers fiddling with Geta’s robes, his eyes cast down to observe her quietly. “I truly make you nervous, don’t I?” Y/n’s lashes fluttered so she could meet his eyes, a beautiful smile spreading across her lips. “Perhaps. Is that common to feel that way when you…” She trailed off, and a shuddered breath tumbled out. Geta raised his brows, silently beckoning her to continue. “Express your feelings for one another?” She whispered, blushing at her own words. Geta laughed. Y/n tilted her head as she slapped his chest, playfully laughter also escaping her. “Yes, it is. But do not worry; in time, your nerves will leave you. The more time we spend together, the more comfortable we will become around each other. It’s only natural.” Geta slapped her thigh, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. “Now we must dress; a glorious day awaits us; we do not want to keep the gods waiting.”

tags : @chloe-skywalker @everandforeveryours @bel0ved-heretic @doodle-with-rhy @happysparklingshadows @hutx45oovujj @ro-sa-le-en @ladynoonwraith @jakesullyswhore @sociopathic-winchester @flowerdarkx @joyfulyouthlover @i-padfootblack-things @ajourneyforjoy @sst0txx @simsiddy @multific @eddiesxangel @lovebugism @slaytheusurper <3

⭑ When in Rome ⭑ (Domina Mea, Chapter One)

Masterlist

Chapter Warnings: Death (gladiator fight)

Summary: After years you returned to Rome to visit your father, General Marcus Acacius, to celebrate his recent victory. However, when the Emperors Caracalla and Geta get you in their sights, they will not let you go so easily.

Word count: 3.3k

Your fathers victory stretched far and wide, as did the people's love for him. This provided you with an opportunity, a chance to leave one of your fathers estate’s and visit him in Rome after all these years. You were fairly young when your mother died of the horrible antonine plague. It had struck many and even your noble family was not safe. 

It took years for your father to overcome his grief, little by little he started to show pieces of his old self again. And it was Lucilla ‘the mother of Rome’ who fully healed him, you hadn’t spent that much time with her but you knew she was a good woman. You were happy for your father even though after your mothers death he had sent you away for your own safety.

The Aurelian Estate was grand and well protected, it was lonely too. Your mothers death left a gaping hole in your heart, and with your father being the general, he was needed elsewhere. The estate had made you grow bored and even though Rome was still unsafe with the twin emperors in power, you longed to see your father.

Knowing well he would refuse your visit, you lied to the household guard. You informed them how you were to visit your father and attend the games with him at the colosseum, all to celebrate his victory in Numidia. They were hesitant as they had not received orders from the general himself, but agreed after your promises. 

The road to Rome was long but durable, the stench of the city came closer and it made your face contort in disgust. Beggars were divided on each side of the road you were travelling and it made you uneasy. Your father had told you many times why Rome was grand but fragile as well, it was ridden with disease and plots, as well as two emperors who were as unpredictable as they were mad. 

Still, it intrigued you, the last time you were in Rome, you were young and you barely remembered it. The walls of the Aurelian Estate being carved into your mind deeper, while Rome eroded. One of your servants handed you a cloth on which she had poured some lavender oil, she gestured to hold it to your nose. 

You thanked her and glanced out of the carriage again to notice the Capitoline wolf upon the gate of Rome. Your fathers voice echoed through your mind upon recalling the legend that was behind the statue. Soon after passing it, Praetorian guards halted the carriage, demanding to know who you were.

When your name left the lips of Edas, your personal guard, the Praetorian muttered an apology and barked around to make way for the carriage. You had almost forgotten how respected your father was and kept in mind how useful it could be, being his daughter. 

You had, however, not thought about what your father would say or do upon your sudden arrival. It was safe to say he was not pleased that you lied to the household guard and travelled all the way to the most dangerous city without his knowledge. Lucilla however was a bit more enthusiastic, giving you a warm welcome. 

Standing in the inner courtyard of their estate in Rome was like a dream, even though you were born there, it didn’t seem real to you. To be back after all these years. Lucilla guided you to a table where fruit and wine was spread out, while your father continued lecturing you. 

“You know how many times I have warned you of this place, it is not safe! Especially not now these mad-” Marcus stopped himself when he noticed one of the servants being a little too interested in what he was about to say next. 

“You should not have come.” He said now calmer. “Father, I have not seen you in three years. How could you blame me for seeking you out? I miss you.” His expression softened at your words, Lucilla gave your hand a squeeze on the table and smiled at you. “She will be safe here, with me. Nobody would dare lay a hand on my daughter.” 

It was still a bit weird to hear her say that, but you had gotten more used to it a long time ago. You returned her smile and your father seemed to come to terms with your arrival. “I- I’m just afraid of losing my only child, it’s safer for you outside of Rome, protected by thick estate walls and our own men.” 

Lucilla offered him a sympathetic smile, understanding all too well after having lost her own son. “She is here now, safe in our estate. If she stays here, nothing will happen to her.” Marcus gave in and let one of the servants show you to a guest bed chamber. After your servants had unpacked your belongings, you finally got to get some rest.

The next morning you woke up feeling happier than you had in a long time. The dangers of Rome did not seem too much of a concern to you. No, being reunited with your father was what you needed to regain your spirit. 

Lucilla made you realise how much you missed your mother but she made sure you had a maternal figure in her, as she showed you the whole of the estate the next day. You shared stories, meals and laughs with her as you regained your energy from your travels, when evening fell, that peace was shattered. 

A messenger came, announcing during supper how Marcus was commanded to be present at the games in the colosseum on the morrow, alongside his wife… and child. Your father was furious, abandoning his food to isolate himself with his anger. How did the emperors find out you were in Rome?

You had only been ‘home’ for two days, nobody except for the household guard and your fathers own men knew you were here. In truth you were excited to see the colosseum and witness the well loved gladiator battles. “I do not understand how they know, and why they want you there. Oh sweet child, it is not entertainment for a young lady such as yourself.” Lucilla expressed.

You wondered why it was so bad for you to go, of course you knew of the stories surrounding the two ‘mad’ emperors but you were sure that with your fathers station they would not harm you. Your title as step-daughter of a princess and daughter of a loved general made you already liked by the people, you were untouchable, right? 

Sleep evaded you that night, you were excited yet afraid. What Lucilla said haunted you, were gladiator battles really that gruesome? And she was right, why did the emperors want you there? Lucilla told you it was probably in retribution of your fathers ‘rude’ request of taking leave to see his family, but how would they know your father didn’t want you there? 

You were awake early, only having caught some hours of sleep. And so you had already eaten and bathed before your parents were ready. When Marcus and Lucilla at last emerged to leave, the dreadful ride to the colosseum began. Your father didn’t speak a word the entire way. You knew exactly what he was thinking, that it was your fault, if you hadn’t come, you wouldn't be about to be face to face with the sick men that ruled Rome. 

Upon your arrival at the colosseum, your father left the carriage first, helping Lucilla out before he helped you. The ginormous building was riddled with praetorians and onlookers, to your surprise they not only chanted your fathers name but also yours and Lucilla’s. The grand entrance took your breath away, before you were grounded when your father pulled you towards him.

You hadn’t even noticed the man that had walked up to your father and Lucilla. “Daughter, you were asked a question.” Marcus said. The man in front of you looked at you expectantly, he almost looked royal himself, although you did not recognise him at all. “Forgive me, I was distracted by the grandeur of the colosseum, it has been so long since I’ve been in Rome.” 

“Do not worry Lady, I do not fault you. I merely wished to know how your travel had been, no complications I hope?” You shook your head. “No, it was fairly smooth. I am sorry, what was your name?” The man smiled at you and took your hand before kissing the back of it. “Macrinus my lady. Again, no need for apologies.” 

You felt Lucilla’s hand on your back and you were suddenly grateful for her presence, the man seemed kind but your intuition was telling you otherwise. “Thank you, Macrinus, for your warm welcome.” He gave you yet another smile. “Shall I escort you to your seats? The emperors are already there, I’ve heard they are- eager to meet your daughter General.” 

Your fathers lips thinned at Macrinus’ words but before he could snap back the man gestured you to follow him, Lucilla’s hand never left your back, your father keeping a fierce grip around your shoulder. Macrinus led you through the guarded halls and stairs of the colosseum until you noticed the light atop the last staircase. 

It was the emperor's box, nerves suddenly overcame you but you felt the reassuring and protecting grip of your father on your shoulder. As you reached the top, Macrinus greeted the emperors before moving out of the way, so you were face to face with them. 

Your father greeted them first. “Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla.” He said as he bowed, letting go of you for but a short moment before his protective grip returned. However the emperors barely paid attention to him or Lucilla as their eyes burned into yours. 

You were speechless for a moment before Lucilla placed her hand on your lower back, recentering you. “Your Majesties.” You spoke while curtsying. Everyone had always spoken of their madness, their ruthlessness, but no one told you of their beauty. You were taken aback by how handsome they were, though they had a mad look in their eye.

Emperor Geta spoke first. “General, you have quite the beauty at your side. Where have you kept her all these years?” You almost winced as your fathers grip tightened. “After Aurelia’s death, I sent her to a safe estate that was built in honor of her mothers memory. Rome was such a dangerous place to be at the time, your Majesty.” Geta hummed in response and Caracalla simply laughed.

“Mm, of course, what a delight that she has come to visit you then. No doubt wanting to join the celebrations, am I right Lady?” Caracalla spoke, both their voices made your heart thump louder in your chest. “Yes Caesar, that is right.” You answered respectfully, lowering your gaze. 

“Tell me, have you ever witnessed a gladiator battle before Lady?” Geta then asked. “No your Majesty, I have not.” He smiled at your answer and you were relieved that you seemed to please them so far. No one could tell what they would do if you failed. It was then that a tiny monkey appeared on Caracalla’s shoulder, holding on to his hair. 

You smiled brightly at the sight, never had you seen an excotic creature like that before. The only ‘creatures’ at your estate were horses, hounds and birds. Caracalla noticed your sudden change in demeanor. “Have you also never ‘witnessed’ a monkey before Lady?” Your cheeks burned red at his words, they must think you were stupid with how they spoke.

“No, your Majesty.” Caracalla giggled at that and guided the monkey into his arms. Geta’s piercing gaze never left you as Caracalla came closer. It was only then you noticed the weird scratches on his face. “Would you like to meet Dondas?” He giggled. “It would be an honor Caesar.” Your father reluctantly let go of you, as did Lucilla.

You caught Macrinus watching in the corner of your eye. Caracalla then led Dondas into your arms, you couldn’t help the big smile on your lips as the monkey made some adorable noises before holding onto the expensive fabric of your toga. Dondas inspected your necklace for a bit before he climbed around your shoulders and back into the Emperor's arms. 

“He likes you!” Caracalla exclaimed excitedly, followed by a fit of giggles you already secretly found adorable. You smiled at him. “Well I like him too your Majesty, you have a very sweet monkey.” He grinned widely and his golden tooth met your eyes, why did it suit him so well? 

“Since you have never witnessed a battle such as this before, Lady, why don’t you sit at the front, with us?” Geta spoke, although he rather commanded it then asked. You looked to your side at your father, who tried not to show his fury, Lucilla looked down. It seemed you had no choice, even though that did not bother you as much as it probably should.

“Of course Caesar, how thoughtful of you, thank you.” You answered politely, and relief washed over you once more when he smiled brightly. He commanded servants to move one of the large luxurious chairs to the front, between the thrones of the emperors. Then he gave the signal that the speaker could announce their arrival and that of your father.

“Emperor Caracalla! Emperor Geta! Citizens of Rome!” The speaker's voice echoed through the colosseum as the emperors now stood all the way up front of the box, in clear view of the audience. “These sacred games are in honor of General Acacius’ victory in Numidia!” Loud cheers and applause came from the audience. 

“Acacius.” “General.” The twins gestured for your father to join them so the citizens could see him. He raised his hand and loud cheers filled your ears once more. “Speak to them.” You could faintly hear Geta say. Your fathers words faded in your mind as you took in the colosseum. 

When he returned to go to his seat, he gave your shoulder a loving squeeze before taking his place. Lucilla was then announced and she too was welcomed with a loud applause and cheers from the crowd. Then both the emperors gestured for you to come forward, as you stood between them, the speaker's loud voice boomed through the colosseum again. 

“In attendance today is the beloved daughter of General Acacius himself!” Your brows furrowed as people chanted your name. It confused you, they did not know you. Nor had you conquered lands or won battles like your father. It showed you how much your parentage could mean. 

Lucilla had already taken her seat and after you too had raised your hand to the crowd, you took your seat just like the emperors on either side. The speaker then announced the gladiators, the slaves from Numidia, before announcing the gladiator of Geta and Caracalla themselves. 

The gladiators had taken their place in the low arena of the colosseum before a giant gate opened. Your mouth parted at the sight, an animal you had never seen before with the gladiator standing on his back entered the arena. You didn’t even notice both the emperors grinning at your reaction. Neither did you notice the sharp gaze of your father.

You leaned forward a bit and watched as the big animal came closer. It then stopped before the gladiator greeted the emperors. “Heil Caesars!” He roared, his low voice sent a shiver down your spine, he looked terrifying and you couldn’t help but feel bad for the ‘slaves’ from Numidia. 

Geta and Caracalla raised their hands in response before their gladiator made his first charge, the arena beneath you seemed to shake with the animal's heavy strides. The gladiators jumped out of the way at the last moment, except for one, who was launched into a nearby pillar and died upon impact. 

Your eyes widened at the scene, you were slightly frightened but also intrigued. Maybe you understand now why people like the games. Both Geta and Caracalla clapped beside you, feeling victorious through their warrior. You were on the edge of your seat as you watched how the large animal and its rider turned back around.

One of the gladiators caught your attention as he stuck his sword in the ground before clasping his hands together to cup some sand. He then waited for the animal to charge, let it come closer, before releasing the sand into the air, creating a dust cloud. When it seemed he would get hit by the animal's large horn, he jumped out of the way, causing the animal to crash into the wall. 

The audience as well as the emperors jumped from their seat, the animal was injured badly and the gladiator had been launched from his seat. You joined the emperors to see how the gladiator got up to fight the slave from Numidia. 

It only took a little while before the gladiator had taken the sword from the Numidian and already raised his arms to excite the crowd. You moved back to your seat before Geta spoke. “Brother, it’s that poet is it not?” You had no idea what Geta was talking about. “I can’t remember, that night was a blur.” Caracalla responded before taking his seat as well. 

“The gates of hell… are… open night and day- smooth- I forget-” Your brows furrowed, you knew that poem, Lucilla had once read it to you the night after their wedding, as she wanted to bond with her new daughter. “Smooth is the descent, easy is the way.” You answered. 

Geta looked at you and seemed pleased, thank the gods. The slave had gotten up again in the meantime and fought back against the gladiator with a shield, they fought back and forth until the gladiator had picked up the Numidian and launched him over his shoulder, causing his back to collide hard with the ground. 

The gladiator pointed his sword and looked up expectantly at Geta, the crowd chanted ‘mercy’. It seemed the emperors got to make the decision on who eventually got killed in the arena. Geta looked at Caracalla who almost immediately said ‘blood’. “My Lady, shall we show mercy?” You did not expect Geta to ask your opinion.

You did not want the poor Numidian to die at your hands. “Mercy.” You nodded, Geta smiled before turning to the crowd to raise his hand. While lowering it he balled it into a fist with his thumb out, before pointing it up. “No mercy!” The Numidian yelled. “Your life has been spared by the gods-” 

“I would rather face your blade than accept Roman mercy!” You almost cringed at his words, he was clearly stupid to ignore such a presence as Emperor Geta. He then rolled over to grab a blade from the sand before launching it into the gladiator's chest. It was then he looked at the emperors expectantly instead, to which Geta gave the crowd what they wanted by pointing his thumb down.

The Numidian slave then beheaded the gladiator, leaving the emperor's champion defeated. Caracalla stood and clapped his hands loudly while Geta, on the other hand, stormed out. You turned in your seat to look at your father, who gestured that it was time to go. You stood, and curtseyed to Emperor Caracalla, “Your Majesty.” He gave you a nod, and you joined your father and Lucilla towards the exit.  

When you had gotten back to the estate, your father retired to his rooms, not saying a word the entire way back either. You were relaxing in the garden with Lucilla, when that man, Macrinus, from the colosseum arrived. To your disappointment Lucilla requested you take a bath after all that happened and you left the two alone. The whole time you were bathing you couldn’t get the emperors out of your mind, neither the man that had won that day.

rhaenyra thought she needed dragons as if she simply couldn’t take king’s landing using the power of the face card of team black men

dragons' scars

summary: And after the events that happened during Lady Laena’s funeral at Driftmark, two dragons were left scarred.

pairings: cregan stark x velaryon!reader (no use of y/n), platonic (familial) relationship between the targs/velaryon and reader

word count: 6.4k

warnings: blood, fighting, grief, graphic description of wounds, vomiting, probably medical inaccuracies, representation of alicent and viserys' failmarriage at its best

author's note: whoof. this was a whole lot to write. sorry for the delay, I've been on vacation, but I still hope you all like it! in the next few chapters we'll see reader head first in her position as heir and enter a bit of a rebellious phase. i'm not sure i'm completely satisfied by this chapter, but i hope you all enjoy!

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The raven announcing Ser Harwin Strong’s death arrives at Dragonstone barely a day after the one announcing Laena Velaryon’s passing — as if moving to Dragonstone hasn’t already been hard enough on your family. Now not only is your father unresponsive, but your mother, too. 

Laenor had taken quite badly Lady Laena’s passing. He disappeared until supper, only to come back completely black out drunk after, carried by Ser Qarl. Your mother didn’t have the heart to get mad at him, and simply asked the knight to accompany him back to his chambers; she is closing off, too. 

You’re left to look after your brothers, since your parents are still barely at the start of their grieving; you visit them in the nursery, you play with them, you tell them how good they did with their lessons. You suspect Jace knows the truth about Ser Harwin probably being their real father and maybe he would like to drown in his own misery, too, but you won’t let him. Not when your parents are already going downhill. 

None of you knew aunt Laena, even if your father had promised multiple times to bring you to Pentos to visit her, but her death is still a tragedy. Burnt by her own dragon, per her own request, during childbirth. The fact that your mother survived the same thing not too long ago makes you shiver. 

It’s night when you hear the door of your chambers being opened, and you rouse, a bit alarmed, until you recognize the silhouette of your father under the moonlight. “Father? Is– is everything alright?”

He sniffs, standing beside your bed, then sitting down on the ground. “Do you mind if I stay here? Even for a little while will do.”

“I… sure. For as long as you think you need, father.” He reeks of wine, but you don’t point it out to him, turning in the bed so that you’re facing him. You give him your hand and he gladly takes it, squeezing it. “You know,” Laenor mumbles, “She would’ve loved you.” he wipes his nose with the back of his free hand, eyes red and cheeks blotchy. “I promised you that one day you would have met her, but I couldn't keep my promise. I was waiting for her to come back to Westeros — but I should’ve just flown to Pentos once you were born. Now my sister never got to know my daughter — nor any of my children.”

He laughs; a bitter, teary laugh. “She would’ve really loved you. You could’ve ridden Vhagar and Nādrēsy together — the biggest dragons in the world finally flying together.” another sniff, “I always wrote to her about you, and she said that she had bought some jewellery to give to you. That was years ago, though.” he lets out a choked sob, “I haven’t heard from her in what feels like a lifetime.”

You can’t even imagine being away from Jace and Luke for more than a sennight — Joffrey, maybe, yes, but that’s just because he only cries, eats, sleeps and poops. In a few years you won’t be able to part from him either, let alone grieve for him. You’ve known your brothers for most of your life, while they’ve known you for the entirety of theirs. Losing them, in such a way… you don’t even want to think about it. 

“Where’s aunt Laena now?” you ask him. She may have passed, but she has to be somewhere, right? How can a person just… stop existing?. She still has to be somewhere. Maybe she’s with Merrax.

Your father shakes his head. “I don’t know. For us Velaryons, once we die, the sea takes us back. We’re buried in it, so that it may take back all that we owe it. But Laena was also a Targaryen, and for Targaryens death means going back to Old Valyria with their dragons — but Vhagar’s still alive, so I don’t know how she could be able to reach Old Valyria. For the Faith of the Seven, there are Seven Hells and Seven Heavens, and everyone is judged for their sins and actions, and put where the Gods find adequate.”

“I don’t want to be judged when I die. Isn’t death a punishment enough as it is?” 

“I…” Laenor shakes his head. “I understand that for you it might be hard to comprehend, but death isn’t exactly a punishment. Truth is, men are executed just to prevent other people from committing their crimes by scaring them, and also to prevent them from doing it again; but death itself isn’t a punishment. Sometimes it’s a relief. I suppose that’s how your aunt perceived it.” 

You confusedly nod, still not understanding how she could find it a relief. She had two daughters, a husband, a good name for herself; some people would have given anything to be her. So, why? 

Your father has tears in his eyes. “There are fates way worse than death. I guess Laena thought she had enough.”

He leaves you to sleep with a choppy kiss on the forehead and a cracked goodnight, but you barely close an eye. You ask yourself if your mother would have ever left you and your brothers in favour of a quick death, had the situation been the same. 

Three days later, you depart for Driftmark on your dragons. Your parents carry one of your brothers each, while Joffrey is left on Dragonstone under the attentive care of the wetnurses and maids. The ride to Driftmark isn't too long, and you're one of the last ones to arrive for the funeral — as your grandsire, along with your uncles and his entourage, is already there, and so are many others. 

You see what probably is your uncle Daemon with his daughters, Baela and Rhaena, talking to your grandparents — Corlys a collected expression on his face, Rhaenys with teary eyes. There are a few Velaryon family members, who you recognise from your various visits to Driftmark in the last few years, and your grandsire, sitting on a makeshift throne under the gazebo of High Tide’s courtyard — where the tables with wine and refreshments are already placed. 

A guard announces the start of the ceremony, for Laena’s casket has been placed and is ready to be honoured, and you all move towards the cliff, where your aunt's body is ready to be dragged down and thrown onto the sea; you hold on tight to your father's hand as uncle Vaemond starts his eulogy. He squeezes back, sending you a tender glance full of tears. 

The eulogy is in Valyrian, and you are surprised to find barely any mentions of Laena's life. It sounds more like a praise to House Velaryon, of the thick blood that runs through it, and somehow an attempt at something. You can't decide if he's referring to your brother's not-so-Valyrian features or if he's simply trying to get on your grandfather's good side. Probably both.

“Salt courses through Velaryon blood. Ours runs thick. Ours runs true. And ours must never thin.”

Laena's casket is slowly dragged down the rocks, and soon enough, it falls into the waters below. 

You look up at your father, tugging on his vest. “Father, will we be buried like this too?” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “I will be. One day, I shall be united with my sister again and join her in the sea. But you'll be buried like a Targaryen, sweetling. You are destined to be something far greater than to be just a Lady Velaryon.”

You don't like it. You don't like the way he's saying it, like being a Velaryon is a curse. “Why? I want to be buried with you.”

He shakes his head again, almost stoically. It seems this is a talk that, at this moment, is too difficult for you to understand. “You'll be a Targaryen, sitting on the throne. You're destined to be burned by dragonfire.” he sniffs. “Or, or maybe you'll be buried by your lord husband’s family traditions; that's not unusual. I'll be a mere Lord, one day. I am your father, but I am not your duty.”

Your lower lip is trembling, and you bite it to hold in the tears that almost manage to escape. “Father, what are you even saying?” it isn’t fair that you can’t choose where to end up, even in death.

He grimaces. As soon as the ceremony ends, he lets go of your hand and simply disappears, as you all gather back in the courtyard stationed on the cliffside of High Tide. Your mother quickly comes to the rescue, holding you under one arm and your brothers under the others, promising you all lemon cakes and sweets once the ceremony is over.

You soon go to your grandparents, giving them your condolences like your mother told you to and then hugging them tight. Rhaenys almost bursts into tears, but actually, she’s great at hiding them for someone who just lost her only daughter. She pats you on the cheek and just stares for a moment, like she’s searching for something, before your grandfather brings her out of her stupor, gently nudging her to other courtesans. 

You greet your grandsire after that, who kisses your temple and hugs you tight, blabbering about how much he has missed you. “The Red Keep has become dull,” he murmurs, coughing a bit. “My children are in no way as bright as you are. Why don’t you come visit sometime? I could use some laughter, you know, and with your witts you often bring me to tears from it.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Grandsire, I’ve been gone for not even a moon.”

He huffs. “Forgive this old man for missing his only granddaughter. You and your brothers are children, behaving like children; that's why your presence is dearly missed.” his gaze goes to your uncles; Aemond is staring dully in the distance, and Aegon is eyeing the maids while being on his… what? Fourth cup of wine? “Meanwhile, I’ve got… children behaving like forsaken adults. A drunkard, a spiteful brat, and… I don’t even know what to say about Helaena. At least she’s quiet.”

You’ve never understood why everyone describes Aemond as spiteful. He’s awkward, maybe even unpleasant at moments, but you wouldn't say exactly spiteful. “Grandsire, that is not a nice thing to say. Helaena is very good at embroidering, for one. Aemond is good with books. Aegon… well, I’m not really sure what, but there has to be something good about him.”

He lets out a disappointed noise, shaking his head. “They all excel at giving me headaches. But you know who’s best at it? Their mother.” he grunts, “She’s been insufferable as of lately. I fear I will go mad.”

You desperately try to take the conversation away from your uncles and aunt, not liking the way he talks about them. “If the Queen gives you trouble, I have a dragon. We could either run away on Nādrēsy or make sure he takes care of her.” as if on cue, a dragon roar is heard from the other side of the cliff.

Your grandsire chuckles and pinches your cheek. “Aren’t you a little rascal? That could be considered treason, sweetling. You’re lucky you’re cute.” 

Soon after you leave him, too, in favour of your cousins Rhaena and Baela. They stay out of the crowd, sitting on a little bench, looking completely inconsolable. You near them, not quite knowing how to start a conversation, since they must have heard condolences all day. 

“Uh, I, uh,” not really the best ice breaker, but you surely have their attention now. “I have some dresses — they do not fit me anymore. But I think that they’d fit you both nicely. If you ever need to take a breather, or, or, some time to think and have some fun, you could come to Dragonstone.” you try to smile, but surely it comes out crooked. “I’d be delighted to have you there. I’m always available if you need me.”

Rhaena tries to smile, too, while Baela barely nods. “Thanks, cousin.” 

Corlys comes up to you three, laying a hand on your shoulder. “Could you go fetch your father, dear?” He looks stiff, and you soon understand why: your father is standing in the waters below, on the beach, kneeling in the saltwater and looking completely lost. It does not take you long to join him, holding up your dress so that only your shoes and collants get wet. 

“Father,” you call out. You can’t go too much farther. “Father, are you alright?” He doesn’t reply. He just stares ahead of him, into the vastity of the Narrow Sea, like he can almost see his sister again. You’ve never seen your father so lost, so… unlike himself. It’s like Laena brought with her a part of him. Is he buried in the sea now, too? Am I destined to never see him again? Not even in death?

“Father,” you try again. You get a bit closer, the cold water biting your skin. “Please.”

Laenor barely turns his head to look at you. He looks like a shell of himself, and you think that maybe, it’s just now that he has realised that Laena’s never coming back. Earlier, he had you to ground him; but once he let go of your hand, he suddenly understood that he was alone. His sister is dead. There’s no one else with whom he has shared the same experiences he shared with her, no one else so willing to understand him as she was, no one else who will look at him as an older brother. 

Laena Velaryon is no more, and you are sure she has dragged your father with her in the depths of the sea. 

It’s well past midnight when you are rudely woken up. It’s Rhaena, you realise, and she is calling your name quite insistently. “What?” you hiss, softening once you remember that you were the one to tell the twins that you were always available if needed. You intended by day, but if they need you, then you’ll gladly get up and get going. 

“Someone has stolen Vhagar,” she murmurs, tears brimming in her eyes. You can hear the she-dragon roaring outside, and she doesn’t sound too happy. “Jacaerys, Lucerys and Baela are already going out — but you have a dragon. Can’t you just… follow her?”

She doesn’t have to repeat it twice, because you’re already putting on your riding pants and a tunic, going for the balcony and calling for Nādrēsy. The infamous Cannibal doesn’t take long to arrive, always at your beck and call, and you soon mount him, as Rhaena runs off — probably to where your brothers and her sister were headed. 

It’s almost impossible not to spot Vhagar: she’s an old, gigantic dragon, that in the years has lost all her spikes and now looks like a giant lizard. Her scales are green, fading into a deep bronze, and her saddle is vacant — not really, you think, as you see your uncle Aemond barely clinging to the ropes of the saddle, almost flying away. 

Nādrēsy roars, unhappy to see his mother, you imagine. He moves to turn away, away from her, and you try to hold tight on the reins, keeping him in place. “Daor, Nādrēsy, daor!” No, Nādrēsy, no!

He whines, rebelling against you for what is maybe the first time in over two years, and you can feel how unsettled he is. It radiates off of him, and before you can even understand what is happening, he’s turning back and going for the beach — searching for a landing. Every attempt to stop him, to make him obey, is vain; he roars over your voice, tuning you out, even when you punch and kick at his neck — it seems the only one hurt by this is you, actually. His spikes are not going to fall off for a while, it seems. Unlike Vhagar he still has them all. 

He lands on the beach, roaring loudly and huffing fire. Since now Vhagar is landing, too, and she is pretty far away, you decide to forget about the stunt your dragon has just pulled in order to catch up with the others — you’d hate to miss Rhaena and Baela, or anyone really, going ballistic against Aemond. 

Except, once you finally reach the entrance of High Tide, you find yourself in front of a scene that will surely haunt you in your dreams for a good while. 

Now, you don’t like Aemond. Not really, since he supports his brother in constantly calling your brothers bastards and mostly keeps to himself. That doesn’t mean that him being beaten up by four children way younger than him isn’t honestly pitiful. You had hoped for a fight, yes, but the kind with screams and insults, not the kind with punches and blood, where one of your brothers could easily get injured. 

Aemond is three-and-ten. The twins are a year younger than you, while Jace is six, barely a year older than Luke. The way they easily win against him almost saddens you, and despite the fact that you have nothing against seeing him beaten to a pulp, your mother is already having a hard time adjusting to the changes of the last few weeks — Joff’s birth, Harwin’s death, moving to Dragonstone — and, you think, your brothers and cousins killing your uncle surely wouldn’t help her. So, against all your best wishes, you stand up for Aemond.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?” you scream, prying them all off of him. You take Jacaerys and Luke by their ears, making them whine as you throw them around. “Is this what Ser Cole taught you? Four against one? It’s not a fair fight!” 

“Whose side are you on? He stole my dragon!” Rhaena screeches, outraged. “Vhagar was supposed to be mine!”

“Well, now it isn’t!” you find yourself saying. “I lost my dragon too, and guess what? I found another one! If he was able to claim Vhagar, then maybe she wasn’t meant to be yours. And I say that with the utmost respect and affection for you, cousin, trust me. If Vhagar accepted him, then maybe she’s not worth that much.”

You turn, leaving your brothers with red ears, looking at your uncle, left groaning on the ground. You offer him your hand, leaning a bit. “Uncle, let’s just go to sleep and forget about all that has happened.”

He glances at you, then at your hand. He takes it, and before you can react, he drags you down towards him. 

He’s got a pointed rock in his free hand. 

Luke and Jace scream before you even feel the impact of the stone with your temple, and it’s not a light throw. It’s one with intent, probably aimed to kill. The pain explodes and leaves you in shambles on the ground where your uncle was just a moment ago, and as he prepares himself for another hit, Jacaerys tackles him. 

Aemond lets go of the rock to fight against your brother, who apparently didn’t come here unprepared, because he’s got a knife that he promptly sheathes. “How dare you?” he roars. “My sister helped you! She reprimanded us about not fighting fairly and you maim her!” 

He tries to fight off the grip on his wrist, his knife pointed at Aemond’s throat. “She should’ve let us kill you!”

His uncle manages to shove him off, throwing him on the ground right next to you, barely conscious and hopefully still breathing. “Come at me again and I’ll feed you to my dragon!” you never quite understood why people described Aemond as spiteful, but now, laying on the ground in a pool of your own blood, you incoherently understand why. “You will die screaming in flames like your father did, bastards!”

The knife is on the ground, too, but as Aemond reaches for it, Lucerys is quicker. 

When the Kingsguard finally comes to the scene, they find a disfigured prince and an unconscious — dead-looking — princess, both still bleeding, both in immense pain. 

The first to snap out of his daze is Ser Harrold, who immediately comes to your side, glancing at the open wound and reaching for his handkerchief, pressing on the bleeding gash with it. This seems to snap you out of your trance, too, because you let out a blood curdling scream, thrashing against him. “Princess!” he exclaims, trying to calm you down. “I am merely trying to stop the bleeding!”

But it looks like you don’t comprehend anything anymore, blood covering your face and teeth, you find yourself spitting it. All you can think about is the fact that Aemond was going for a second strike. And suddenly, you hold no more pity for him, and find yourself agreeing with your grandsire. A spiteful brat, he had described him. 

Your grip on Ser Harrold’s arm would surely draw blood if it wasn’t for his armour, and you can see the terrified gazes of your brothers and cousins, clouded with tears, as the guards keep them away. As your vision darkens and your head spins, you think you can hear Nādrēsy roaring from outside. 

You are unable to stay conscious for much, slipping between being completely passed out and being awake but quite comatose, and you barely register Ser Harrold taking you in his arms — a guard with a screaming Aemond right behind — and getting you out of there. The thundering from your dragon outside just keeps getting louder and louder, pounding in your ears and shaking High Tide. 

The Grand Maester looks horrified when Ser Harrold brings you into his chambers, screaming about needing immediate help, but soon gets to work. Him and his apprentices work overtime, roughly patching Aemond up for the meanwhile because they have a dying girl in their hands, and it doesn’t take much for you to be mostly drunk off of milk of the poppy. 

When you wake, your head is in a tight bandage, and you’re laid down on a daybed, Rhaenys and Corlys by your side along with your brothers, still covered in blood. Their little butchered faces make you want to cry — you failed. As an older sister, you have one job — protecting your brothers — and you have failed. 

“Mummy,” is the first word that comes out of your mouth — like the scared little girl you are, you are searching for the comfort of the same person who has always given it to you, ever since you were but a blob in her womb: your mother. It’s rasped and barely a whisper, but Luke hears it. 

“Sister!” he screams, jumping on the daybed. “You are awake!”

Your head is pounding and your vision is blurred, but you recognize this room to be the best guest chambers of High Tide, the ones your grandparents sometimes let you to sleep in. If you are correct, right now it’s your grandsire who resides in them. There are murmurs around you, a maester nearing, and a heavy hand settling on your shoulder. 

“She’s not here, sweetling,” it’s your grandfather Corlys, but you don’t recognize him. “Daddy?” you ask, as the maester puts in your trembling hands a calice. You hesitantly drink from it, but as soon as the liquid touches your lips, the first instinct is to spit it out. Corlys grimaces. “He’s… he’s not here either, but we sent for them. They both should be here any moment now.”

“I thought you had died,” Jace sobs, “I could see your skull.”

“It will surely scar,” the maester murmurs, tightening the bandages. “Hopefully, it will do only that.”

A wave of nausea comes over you. The maester seems to notice, and he’s quick to ask for a bucket, passing it to you and patting your shoulder as you vomit in it, ears ringing. “That’s normal. She’ll probably have constant nausea for a while.”

The people around you murmur, and another voice makes itself known in the crowd. “—re’s my granddaughter? Where’s my granddaughter?!”

It’s your grandsire, the King, and he stops once he sees you, bandages bloody and bleary eyes, skin pale and covered in sweat. “What have they done to you, my girl?” he whispers, shaking his head in disbelief. He looks at the maester, “Is it serious?”

“I– we have no actual idea of how much it’ll affect her in the long term. In the best scenario, it’ll only scar and leave her with migraines every once in a while,” he grimaces, probably fearing for his life as the King looks furious, “I– in the worst… it, it could have some… permanent effects. Intellect-wise.”

Your grandsire shakes his head. “If you really value your head, dear maester, then you’ll make sure she doesn’t have any repercussions. Don’t forget you have the heir to the Iron Throne in your hands.”

The maester gulps, and Viserys sits by your feet on the daybed, gently placing a hand on your knee. “How are you feeling, sweetling?”

You whine, too nauseated at the moment to speak. The door is thrown open, your mother and uncle Daemon running in, Rhaenyra screaming your names. “Jace, Luke– dear Gods, my girl, what has happened to you?”

Her trembling eyes are frantic, looking at your bandaged wound and the blood splattered on your face, but she is quick to compose herself, putting up a facade in front of the whole court. Later, in the privacy of her chambers, she will hold her three babies and weep as much as she needs, but for now, she has to stay strong. 

Unexpectedly, it is you who starts crying first. Just a little girl crying for her mother, covered in blood and scared for what’s to come. Are you going to be ridiculed for your scar as Mushroom the fool is for his height? You sure hope not.

This enrages your grandsire even more, and he raises back on his feet, throwing his hands in the air. “Gods be good, how could this happen?” he turns to Ser Harrold, “How could you allow such a thing to happen?”

“The princes were supposed to be abed, my King,” the knight replies, tense himself. 

Viserys snarls. “And who had the night watch?”

The Lord Commander’s eyes dart towards Ser Criston, who speaks before he can even be interpelled. “The Prince was attacked by his own cousins, Your Grace.”

Viserys barely spares a glance at Aemond, sitting by the fireplace, his left eye socket being stitched by the Grand Maester. “The Prince?” he says in disbelief. “The Prince? The heir to the Iron Throne could've been killed! You swore to protect my blood!”

A moment of silence. Ser Harrold speaks up. “I’m very sorry, Your Grace.” 

Ser Criston straightens. “The Kingsguard has never had to defend princes from other princes, Your Grace.”

“That is no answer!” your grandsire yells, shaking his head. He looks at the Grand Maester, who is now almost finished with Aemond. “It will heal, will it not?” 

“The flesh will heal, but the eye is lost, Your Grace.”

The King sighs. Rhaenyra nods. “That is not even near enough punishment for what he has done to my daughter.”

Alicent’s eyebrows raise up to her hairline. “What he has done? My son has lost an eye. Over what? An innocent scuffle?” “That’s not true!” Jace screams. “He attacked Baela!”

“He broke Luke’s nose!”

“He stole my mother’s dragon!” 

“He tried to kill our sister!”

“Enough!” Viserys rages, immediately shutting down the children. He looks over to you, eyes softening. “My dear, dear girl, are you able to tell me what has happened?”

You sniff. The tears have stopped by now, but the ringing is persistent. “I arrived a bit later than the others.” you murmur, eyes downcast, to your hand, tightly held in your mother’s grasp. “I… I tried to help Aemond. Gave him my hand.” 

You raise your eyes, still full of fear and regret. “Grandsire, he went for another strike.”

“It should be my son telling the story!” Alicent interrupts, voice cracking. “Lucerys Velaryon had a knife– Aemond was ambushed! They meant to kill my son!”

Before your grandsire can reply, you shake your head. Your mother is surprised to find no rage in your words, only… confusion. Disbelief, maybe. “Your son maimed at me when I was simply trying to help him.”

She scoffs. “He was merely defending himself.”

“I gave him my hand to help him off the ground. I had no bad intentions nor weapons with me.” 

You are just discovering one of the bad traits of the human species, Rhaenyra realises. Betrayal, and the worst kind. The one that comes when the intentions are the purest, but the receiver takes advantage. She wonders if after this you’ll be able to help anyone without doubts or second thoughts ever again. 

“He aimed for a kill.”

Viserys turns to his son. “Aemond, I will have the truth of what has happened, now.”

He looks lost. A little kid coming up with a lie. He’s older than you and yet so stupid. “T… they attacked me.”

“That's not true!” Jace bursts. “You called us bastards!”

Silence falls upon the room; you stare at your brother. Had you known that was the motif of the whole ordeal, you would have happily let them beat Aemond till he was no longer recognisable. Your mother pales, and opens her mouth to speak again. “Your Grace, my sons were attacked and forced to defend themselves and their sister, already struck down. My daughter is heir and my sons are in line for the Iron Throne; this is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might know where he heard such slanders from.”

“Over an insult?” Alicent asks, voice trembling. “My son has lost an eye.”

“Your son has permanently damaged the heir to the Iron Throne,” Viserys corrects her. “Now, you tell me, boy. Where did you hear these lies?”

“The insult was but a training yard buster,” his wife interjects, again. “The lot of boys. It was nothing.”

“Aemond,” your grandsire presses firmly. “I asked you a question.”

“Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? Where is the children’s father? Perhaps he might have something to say on the matter.” 

“I…” your grandsire seems to agree, even if doubtfully. “Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?”

“I do not know, Your Grace,” your mother quickly replies. “ I... could not find sleep. I had gone out to walk.”

“Entertaining his young squires, I would venture,” the Queen mumbles. The King chooses the best strategy — just ignoring her. “Aemond, look at me. Your King demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?”

This is turning messy, you think, too many cards on the table. Your injury, Aemond’s lost eye, your brother’s questioned legitimacy, your father’s absence. For what specific thing are you here? For the fight that broke out or the years of bottled up rage and hatred? 

Aemond’s trembling too, you realise. Yet, for the first time in your life, you can’t find it in yourself to hold even a little bit of pity for him. “It… it was Aegon.”

His brother stands straighter beside him, taken aback. “Me?” 

“And you, boy? Where did you learn such calumnies?” the boy hesitates, “Aegon! tell me the truth of it, now!”

“I…” your uncle sighs, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “We… we know, Father. Everyone knows. Just look at them,”

Your grandsire is silent for a moment, shaking his head. “This interminable infighting must cease! All of you! We are family! Now make your apologies and show good will to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your King demands it!”

You’ve never seen him so enraged — Viserys The Peaceful, the smallfolk calls him, and not as to jest. He really is a calm and collected person; he has simply had enough, it seems. 

“That is insufficient,” Alicent declares. “My son has been damaged permanently, my King. ‘Good will’ cannot make him whole.”

Your grandsire sighs. “I cannot restore his eye, Alicent. He has wound the heir to the throne. He should repute himself lucky to not have lost his head.”

His wife shakes her head, bewildered. “He is your son, Viserys, your blood! There is a debt to be paid!”

“My granddaughter has already paid more than enough for your son’s thoughtlessness!” Viserys screams. “He wounded an innocent child who was acting in good faith! She helped him and he spat in her face! That is how you are raising your children, Alicent? Aemond is three-and-ten, almost a man, and yet he attacked a girl not even nine summers old! He should be ashamed of himself.”

The Queen looks dazed. “He has paid more than it is acceptable.” her eyes flicker to you; a glimmer of greed, typical of HIghtowers, sits in them. “We… we could wed the children. Who would want the Princess, now that she has been ruined? My son would have a bride as consolation for the lost eye and she wouldn't have to worry about her future husband finding her… hideous, or worse, not finding a husband at all.”

Viserys takes a deep breath. “Alicent, the girl is only eight…”

Rhaenyra's eye twitches. The only thought of one of Alicent’s spawns getting on the throne by marrying you would've been enough to send her on a rampage. "So that she can say that her husband abused her even before the start of their marriage and you can have one of your children on the throne? I would rather my daughter die a spinster than to see that happen. Besides, she’s a Princess — a scar inflicted by your animal of a son could never manage to taint her beauty. It surely won’t help him in the search for a bride, though, so I can’t say I’m really surprised by this proposal.” your mother is trembling in anger as she says this, “I had already proposed something like this, Your Grace, so I don’t see why my proposal should be denied while you expect yours to be happily welcomed.”

A piece of information is missing, you realise, because you have no idea what your mother is talking about. “Very well,” replies Alicent, voice stone cold. “There is still a debt to be paid, and if the King doesn’t bring justice, the Queen will. I shall have one of your sons’ eyes in return. Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon.”

Luke screeches and you jump up from the bed, fighting nausea and headache, just to try to keep him safe. Your mother is already making sure of that, hiding him behind her, grabbing you too in the meanwhile, holding you close to her. “Mother!”

“Alicent,” your grandsire chastises.

“He can choose which eye he wants to keep — a luxury that was not granted to my son.”

“You will do no such thing,” the King commands to the knight, who looks conflicted. “Stay your hand.” 

“No, you are sworn to me!”

It seems Ser Cole is not that much of a fool to cut a prince’s eye out of his socket, and he takes a step back. “As your protector, my Queen.” 

“Alicent,” your grandsire starts, “this matter... is finished. Do you understand? And let it be known, anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's sons should have it removed.”

Your mother takes a breath, and her grip on you and your brothers loosens. “Thank you, father.” 

It all happens so fast. 

In a second or two, Alicent has a knife in her hands — snatched from your grandsire’s belt — and your mother has bolted forward, holding her wrist in place, preventing her from attacking any of you. “Stay behind!” she yells, barely looking at you all — and before you can move to obviously disobey and try to smack Alicent as hard as you can, it’s uncle Daemon who comes up behind you to hold you back as the guards do the same to your brothers. 

You shriek, “Let me go, let me go! I’ll cut her eye out since she wants one so bad!” 

“And then what?” he taunts, putting a hand over your mouth. “For this all to escalate even more?”

“Stay with the King!”

“Alicent!”

“Hold your approach!”

“Stay your hand, Cole!”

Your trashing and turning against Daemon’s hold doesn’t cease, only worsening as your mother grunts in fatigue. “You’ve gone too far,” she grits, glaring at the Queen, steadily holding her wrist and preventing her from wounding her. 

“I?” Alicent asks. “What have I done but was expected of me?” she shakes her head, trembling. “Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law, while you flout it all to do as you please!”

“Alicent, let her go!”

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It's trampled under your pretty foot again!”

“Alicent, release the blade!”

“And now you take my son's eye, and to even that, you feel entitled!”

“Your son almost killed my daughter!” your mother screams, her rage finally exploding. She snickers, but it’s clearly sarcastic. “Exhausting, isn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness.” she shakes her head, and her voice softens. “But now they see you as you are.”

Alicent manages to free herself from your mother’s grip; Rhaenyra is sent tumbling behind, but luckily there’s your grandfather to catch her. Her arm is profusely bleeding — the wench managed to cut her — and the dagger falls on the ground with a loud thud. 

Daemon finally lets you go, and you sprint to your mother, holding her wounded arm tight and sniffing into her dress. Despite everything, she still manages to hold you close — as she always does — pressing her nose into your hairline, murmuring sweet nothings and reassurances. 

Your grandsire is speechless; his eyes dart to your mother, then to Alicent, then to your mother again. In the end, he looks at his wife, an unreadable gaze in his eyes. “I accept Princess Rhaenyra’s proposal of marriage,” he declares, the room eerily silent. “and I declare my youngest daughter, Helaena, and my oldest grandson, Jacaerys, betrothed, to put an end to this rift between our family. They are to be married once the boy reaches the age of sixteen.” 

His face holds something you’ve never seen in his face, as he looks at the Queen. Is it disdain? You are too young to really know. “I hope you are happy now, wife.”

---

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I’m back…

social media au

-> you and Lando have a past that it’s quite complicated… what happens when you go up to Formula 1 to race against him?

•

f1 Y/N Y/L/N is joining Aston Martin for the 2024 season.

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astonmartinf1 welcome to our team yourusername!

-> yourusername let’s make magic together 🫰🏻

username1 omg she and Lando on the same paddock????

-> username2 what’s the lore??? I’m unaware

-> username3 apparently they were dating back in f3 and he cheated on her and the guys all called her a dramatic b*tch. She crashed the next race, probably from all the bullying and pressure and was out for a whole year.

-> username2 wowww I hope she kicks his ass next season 💅

fernandoalo_oficial welcome teammate! yourusername

-> yourusername thank u nando! I’m fangirling rn <3

alex_albon missed you bestie

-> yourusername missed you albonooo 😚

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yourusername helloooo Australia!! 🇦🇺 I was so happy to answer your questions today, now let’s get racin 🏁

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username1 girl you were SOO funny!! Loved it 🫶🏻

-> username2 she’s adorable

-> username3 let’s hope she can race too

danielricciardo you’re stealing my thunder on my own home country 🥹

-> yourusername hang in there cowboy 🤠

-> oscarpiastri OUR home country danielricciardo

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astonmartin our girl just made p4 in her first f1 race! 😍

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fernandoalo_oficial p5 just felt more special with you in front of me! what a way to start our season 😜

alex_albon way to go!!

username1 the fact that she gave Lando the finger after passing him HAHA

-> username2 ICONIC

landonorris 🥱

-> username3 Lando is TRIGGERED

-> username4 omg we’re just starting the season and there’s already dramaaaa

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f1gossip Aston Martin driver Y/N Y/L/N gave Lando Norris the finger after overtaking him. Note that in their F3 season Y/N was out of action for a year after Lando cheated on her and rumor has it the hole paddock was also bullying her. Is she having her revenge?

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yourusername just posted a story

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real life

Y/N was sitting in the coffee area inside the Aston Martin headquarters when Fernando slowly approaches her.

“Can I sit?” He asks, pointing to the empty chair that’s in front of the young driver.

She looks up from her coffee and nods with her head, to busy drinking her much needed caffeine to let words out.

“Just saw what you posted in Instagram.” He says, talking about the video where she tries to clean the air after she gave the finger in live race.

“Yeah, just wanted to kinda explain myself after what happened.” She says.

“What exactly happened between you two?” He asks.

Y/N looks at him. She knows she can trust him, despite really knowing him for just a couple of months. He’s like the father she never had. Always having her back and giving her the best advices.

“We were teenagers. Stupid kids. I was in love, he apparently wasn’t. One day we were just chilling together when his phone starts getting texts. He brushes it off, saying it’s just a friend and when he falls asleep I go through his phone. They weren’t just friends. There were thousands of texts for months between the two. He lied to me… I just wanted him to be honest and he straight lied to me! We had a race the next weekend and I was able to brush the situation off, because when I enter the track I forget about the outside world. But when I enter the paddock, the guys just start shoving me and stuff like that. Me being the only girl was not easy in any way but I managed it the best I could. Then, I don’t know… I just loose the control of the car and the next thing I know I’m into a wall. I don’t even know how it happened, I can’t even remember. I just remember having this tremendous amount of pain in my leg. After two surgeries and a lot of recovery and rehab I was back in that car.”

Fernando just looks at the young woman, whose eyes have unshed tears.

“If you ask me if I hold a grudge towards him, yes, I really do. He never apologized, never spoke to me again. But that’s what keeps me going. This fire I feel inside of me is what brought me here to formula 1.”

•

part 2 coming soon.

folded ✸ jww

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