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kirammanswifey · 1 day ago

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how arcane characters would deal with mental disorders x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: writing this felt like giving myself a warm hug, a comfort that i needed. if anyone reading this is going through or has gone through any of these disorders, i want to tell you that you are very brave because it is not an easy thing, so feel proud of yourself. i hope you liked this as much as i did. as i'm a psychology student, i felt very motivated and i hope that it was quite understandable and enjoyable. as you already know request are open ;)

P.S. i know the other option won in the poll on my profile, but i need more time to refine the ideas and make something high quality that everyone will love, which i’ll be posting tomorrow ;)

Viktor Depression

The world around you feels like a constant weight, a heavy blanket that wraps around you, not letting you breathe. You wake up each day with a sense of emptiness in your chest, as if a black hole is absorbing all your energy, your motivation, your ability to feel anything other than sadness and apathy.

It’s not that you don’t want to get out of bed; it’s that the simple act of moving a finger feels like a titanic task. Fatigue is your constant companion, a shadow that never leaves you. Things that once filled you with joy now seem distant, irrelevant, as if they belonged to a life that is no longer yours.

The dark thoughts are your constant whispers, reminding you that you’re not enough, that it’s all pointless, that there’s no way out. Sometimes, you cry without knowing why; other times, you want to cry, but even that you can’t do. You feel trapped in an invisible prison, with no strength to fight your way out.

Viktor watches you from the doorway of your room, his gaze soft and full of concern. He knows the weight of shadows well, although his are different. Silently, he approaches and sits on the edge of the bed, not invading your space, but close enough for you to feel his presence.

“I have a new project I’m working on,” he says in a quiet voice, trying not to break the fragile bubble of your world. “I thought maybe you could join me today. You don’t have to do anything, just be there. Your company always helps me think.”

He doesn’t pressure you. Viktor understands that words can be hard to find when your mind is clouded by depression. He knows that the solution isn’t to force you to feel better, but to be with you, to offer you a hand, a small step forward.

He gently rises and offers his hand, not expecting you to take it, but hoping that you’ll know he’s there, ready to support you when you’re ready. “The world can wait,” he murmurs. “But I’m here, whenever you want to come back.”

His patience is infinite, his understanding deep. Viktor doesn’t try to fix you, because he doesn’t see you as broken. He knows that depression is a battle you fight every day, and he’s willing to walk alongside you, every small step, every shared silence.

You look at his hand, then his face; he’s concerned even though he tries to hide it. You make a huge effort to get out of bed, and even though your body doesn’t cooperate at first, you manage. You take his hand and gently squeeze it; that’s the most affection you can give him right now, you’re exhausted.

“Let’s go,” you murmur, your voice hoarse and broken; it’s the first time you’ve spoken all day.

You’re sitting next to Viktor in his small workshop, surrounded by pieces of metal and unfinished prototypes. He’s explaining his latest invention, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up his eyes. You feel a little better, enough to enjoy his company, and for a moment, a laugh escapes your lips when you hear one of his stories.

“Did you really say that to Heimerdinger?” you laugh, your eyes shining with a spark of life. It’s a small moment, but for Viktor, it’s like seeing the sun rise after a storm.

He smiles, pleased to have made you laugh. “Yes, and his face... It was certainly indescribable,” he replies with a softness that reflects his pleasure at seeing you enjoy yourself, even if just for an instant.

But suddenly, without warning, the laughter turns into a lump in your throat. The spark of joy fades as quickly as it came, and you find yourself trapped in a wave of overwhelming sadness. The tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you can’t stop them. The confusion in your eyes is evident, as if your body has betrayed the fleeting happiness you just felt.

Viktor notices immediately. He leans toward you, his expression turning serious, but his eyes remain warm and full of understanding. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t seek explanations that may be impossible to give. Instead, he moves a little closer, offering you his silent presence.

“It’s okay,” he says gently, his voice an anchor amidst your internal storm. “You don’t have to explain it. Just breathe.”

He offers you his hand, this time with more intent. You take it, feeling the warmth and firmness in his grip, a reminder that you’re not alone in this moment. You needed that contact. You needed to know that you could feel something other than sadness right now. Viktor doesn’t pull away, doesn’t feel uncomfortable. He knows that depression doesn’t follow rules, that it can strike at any moment, and he’s willing to stay with you, no matter how long it lasts.

“Do you want us to stay here?” he asks, his tone delicate. “Or we can walk a little, if that helps.”

His willingness to adapt to your needs wraps you in a sense of safety. Even though the tears keep falling, Viktor’s presence is a balm, a reminder that, even in the darkest moments, there’s someone who sees you, who understands you, and who’s willing to stay by your side.

“Just... stay here with me,” you say, letting yourself fall against his body, exhausted.

He caught you and wrapped you with care, it was a hug with the right amount of strength.

“Take your time, darling. I won’t go anywhere,” Viktor promised in a whisper, never stopping the caresses on your back.

And that was enough to make you feel less miserable.

Jinx Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

The echo of the explosions still resonates in your mind, even though years have passed since that day when your world crumbled. The night everything you loved was consumed by flames in an attack on the Undercity. The night you lost your family and were left alone, with the screams and the smell of smoke forever etched in your memory.

As you walk beside Jinx through the bustling streets of Zaun, everything seems normal, almost calm, until an explosion in the distance makes your heart stop. It’s a dry, loud sound, far too similar to the one you heard that night. Without warning, your breath becomes shallow, your lungs struggle to take in air, and an overwhelming sense of absolute panic takes hold of you.

Your body freezes, and it feels as if the world around you disappears. The crowd, the lights, even Jinx—all fade away, leaving you alone in that dark place where time doesn’t move. The ground beneath your feet seems to give way, and you feel yourself falling again into that abyss of the past.

"Hey, hey!" Jinx’s voice cuts through the fog in your mind. Her hands grip your shoulders, and her gaze searches for yours with desperation. "You’re not there, do you hear me? You’re here, with me."

Her words feel distant, but the warmth of her hands somehow anchors you, reminding you that you’re not alone. "But... the sound..." you murmur, barely audible, as tears start to fall down your cheeks. "It was the same... the same as that night."

Jinx guides you to a quieter corner, away from the noise, holding your hand firmly. "Breathe, hon, like we always do," she says softly, her voice tinged with controlled urgency. "Fill up those lungs, okay? Like we’re balloons."

You try to follow her instructions, but every time you close your eyes to concentrate, the images of that night hit you with renewed force. "It’s not working," you whisper, trembling. "It’s always there. No matter how much I try, it doesn’t go away. It doesn’t go away!" You scream in panic, the fingers of your hands stiffening, making them immobile.

The worry in Jinx’s eyes softens a little, but there’s something else there, something you can only describe as recognition. "That explosion... it reminded me of something too," she says after a moment, her voice quieter, almost a whisper. "I’ve been there, in that fucked-up place, where the ghosts never stop screaming."

Her words are like a key that opens the door to a deeper understanding.

She falls silent for a moment, gazing into the distance before refocusing her attention on you. "When I have my attacks, you’re always there for me, and I remember I’m not alone. That helps me a lot," she admits, a small, almost sad smile curving her lips. "And you’re not alone either, hon. We’re not broken, just a little bent. And here we are, bent together."

The hug she offers you is warm and firm, a tangible reminder that you’re not alone. You feel her strength, her determination, and something else: her own fear, her own struggle. "You don’t have to fight alone," she whispers, her voice a promise. "If you ever feel like you’re going to fall, we’ll fall together. And then, we’ll rise. Always."

You cling to her like a lifeline, letting her warmth and her words anchor you to the present, if only for a moment. "Thank you, sweets," you whisper, allowing yourself, for the first time in a long time, to feel that it’s okay not to be okay.

Vi Anxiety Disorder

The night drags you into the abyss of your mind, but you find no respite. Instead of waking softly to the day, you're trapped in pure panic. Your chest burns, each breath a lost battle. Your heart gallops wildly, as if trying to escape your chest. You are drenched in sweat, the sheets sticking to your skin, becoming yet another prison.

Your eyes snap open, the darkness of the room seems to close in on you, and the silence is deafening. The sensation of suffocation consumes you. You try to gulp down air, but it's as though your lungs have forgotten how to function. Your hands search for something, anything, to anchor you to reality, but all they find is emptiness.

The door swings open abruptly, and Vi stands there, alert, her eyes filled with concern. She doesn't need to ask what’s wrong; she knows instantly. She moves swiftly but carefully, approaching you without frightening you further.

"Breathe with me," she says gently, her hands finding yours, steady yet comforting. "Inhale through your nose... like this... and exhale through your mouth."

You try to follow her, but your body won’t cooperate. Your breath is shallow, frantic, as though every breath disintegrates before it even reaches your lungs. Tears begin to streak down your cheeks, mixing with the sweat.

"Vi... I can’t... I can't... I’m scared," you stammer, your words broken by sobs. Your mind is caught in a loop of terror, every thought spiraling downward, taking you further away from calm.

Vi sits beside you on the bed, her voice low and constant. "Don’t be afraid. Listen to my voice. I’m here with you, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you." Her tone is firm, anchoring you in the present, pulling you out of the tide of your own fear.

"But it hurts... my chest... I can't breathe..." Your body trembles, and your hands clutch desperately at her grasp. The feeling of control slipping away is overwhelming, leaving you feeling helpless.

Vi pulls you into an embrace, holding you close, offering her calm, her strength. "This is temporary. It won’t last forever," she whispers in your ear. "Trust me. Focus on me."

Slowly, very slowly, her voice cuts through the fog of your mind. You begin to breathe more deeply, following her rhythm, feeling how her presence stabilizes you, like a lighthouse in the storm. The pain in your chest begins to lessen, the pressure relents just a little, and your body starts to remember how to breathe without fighting.

Vi continues to speak, her voice a soft murmur, calming you with every word. "You’re strong. You have control, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now."

The tears still flow, but now they are tears of relief, not fear. "Don’t leave... don’t leave. I need you here," you whisper, your voice broken but sincere.

Vi strokes your hair, her other hand gently squeezing yours. "I’m not going anywhere, little doe," she says affectionately, kissing your forehead, tasting the salty remnants of your sweat.

You remain in her arms a moment longer, allowing yourself to rest, letting her strength hold you as you regain your own. Gradually, the panic fades, leaving only exhaustion and the certainty that Vi will always be by your side, no matter how dark the nights may get.

Caitlyn Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD)

The silence in the apartment is deafening. The only sound that breaks the stillness is the relentless ticking of the wall clock, its rhythm echoing in your ears like a hammer. You’re in the kitchen, eyes fixed on the glasses you’ve meticulously arranged in the cupboard. Each glass must be perfectly spaced, each one aligned to the exact same level. Symmetry isn’t just a preference—it’s a necessity. If something is out of place, you feel as though the whole world could collapse.

Your breathing is uneven, your chest rising and falling in quick succession. "One, two, three..." you murmur to yourself, counting each movement. Your hands tremble, but you can’t stop. You can’t stop. If you do, something terrible will happen. You don’t know what, but the certainty that it will be catastrophic clings to you like a shadow.

Caitlyn enters the apartment after a long day at work. Her expression shifts instantly when she sees you in the kitchen, trapped in your own ritual. She stops in the doorway, watching you with a mix of concern and sadness. It’s not the first time she’s found you like this, but each time, it hurts her as though it were.

"Darling?" Her voice is soft, as if afraid to shatter you. She steps closer, carefully setting her hat down on the table. "What are you doing?"

You don’t answer at first, your eyes still fixed on the glasses. "Almost done... just a few more minutes," you whisper, your voice trembling. You can’t stop. Every glass moved, every small adjustment is a battle between reason and irrational fear.

Caitlyn stops beside you, her eyes scanning the scene, seeing the perfect pattern you’ve created. "You don’t have to do this," she says gently, yet firmly.

Your hands freeze for a moment, but the urge to continue is too strong. "You don’t understand... if I don’t do it right, if they’re not perfectly aligned, something bad is going to happen." Tears begin to well up in your eyes, the pressure in your chest intensifying. "I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, but it’s like my mind... it can’t stop."

Caitlyn takes a deep breath, her hand reaching out to touch your shoulder delicately. "You’re not crazy," she says, locking eyes with you. "I know this is hard, that your mind doesn’t give you peace. But you don’t have to face it alone. Let me help you."

You turn to look at her, your eyes filled with desperation. "I can’t stop, Cait. If I do, I feel like everything will fall apart. I can’t control what’s happening inside my head."

Caitlyn nods slowly, her gaze unwavering from yours. "I know, darling. And I know this won’t be fixed in a day. But I’m here, and I’m going to stay by your side. We’ll face it together."

Her words anchor you, a beacon in the storm that is your mind. Slowly, almost against your will, your hands begin to lower, moving away from the glasses. The fear is still there, a current running just beneath the surface, threatening to overwhelm you, but Caitlyn is beside you, her presence a reminder that you’re not alone.

"Breathe with me," she says, her voice soft and steady. "Inhale... exhale... together."

You follow her instructions, though your lungs seem to resist, full of anxiety. Caitlyn guides you, her hand never leaving your shoulder. "See? We’re doing it! You’re doing it!" She encourages, kissing your neck when she notices you’ve looked away from the glasses for five seconds. It was only five seconds, but Caitlyn knew it was a huge accomplishment, and she celebrated it.

You let out a small sigh, the tension in your muscles easing slightly. Your hands travel to Caitlyn’s waist, moving her so the glasses are no longer in your line of sight. You let your head fall against her chest, breathing in her scent. It’s so much better, especially when you start counting the beats of her heart.

"How brave my wonderful and glorious girlfriend is. I’m so proud of you," she whispered, her fingers weaving through your hair as she praised you.

"Cait, I love you so much. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me," you whisper against her warm chest, unwilling to leave that comforting refuge.

Caitlyn chuckles softly, and it feels like music to your ears.

"I feel the same way, darling," Caitlyn replied, gently swaying your bodies from side to side in a small rhythm.

You know that your compulsions won’t disappear, that the need for control will remain, but with Caitlyn, you feel like you can face it one day at a time.

Jayce Narcissistic Personality Disorder

The mirror in your room is your judge, jury, and executioner. Every imperfection is a sentence, every flaw a conviction. You spend hours in front of it, adjusting, retouching, trying to reach a perfection that always seems to slip through your fingers. Your heart beats fast, not from excitement, but from the constant fear that the world will see the cracks beneath your flawless facade.

Jayce enters quietly, his presence comforting and, at the same time, a threat. What will he think? Does he notice the imperfections you see? He steps closer, his gaze soft, but you feel the weight of his eyes as if he's scrutinizing every flaw.

"Love, it's late. Come to bed," he says in a calm voice, trying to distract you from your self-destructive spiral.

"Just one more moment," you reply without looking at him, your focus still on the mirror, searching for symmetry in your features, perfection in the unattainable.

Jayce sits on the edge of the bed, watching you. "You've been here for hours. You don't have to do this. You're beautiful just as you are."

His statement, though well-intentioned, feels like a white lie. "You don’t understand, Jayce," you murmur, your voice trembling with suppressed frustration. "If I’m not perfect, I’m nobody. I can’t let them see my flaws. I can't let… you see them."

Jayce stands, walking toward you carefully, as if approaching a flickering flame. "You don’t have to be perfect to be loved," he says, his words a whisper in the storm raging in your mind. "You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all to me."

Your gaze finally meets his through the reflection. Tears fight their way out, but you can't allow such weakness. "It's not that simple," you whisper. "Every day, every look, every word, it’s all a test. And if I fail…"

Jayce places his hands on your shoulders, his eyes filled with compassion and infinite patience. "If you fail, I’ll be here to lift you up."

"And what if I’m not enough?" The question slips out before you can stop it, the insecurity behind your narcissism showing in all its rawness. "What if one day you realize you deserve something better?"

Jayce leans in, his forehead touching yours, a gesture so intimate it almost breaks you. "I deserve someone who loves me for who I am, not for what I pretend to be. And that’s exactly what you are to me. I don’t have impossible expectations of you. I just want you to be happy, to find peace in who you are."

The internal struggle within you is fierce. The fear of rejection, the desire for perfection, the need to be seen and admired, all mix together in a whirlwind that consumes you. But in Jayce's arms, for a moment, the noise silences. His love is not a chain, but a refuge, one that offers rest if only you can let yourself fall into it.

"How can you be so sure?" you ask, your voice broken but curious.

"Because I love you," he answers without hesitation. "And love isn’t about waiting for perfection. It’s about accepting every part of you, even the ones you think are flaws."

The tears finally make their way out, releasing something within you that has been held back for so long. Jayce holds you as you cry, whispering words of comfort, letting all the pressure, fear, and anguish flow out of you.

"You’re perfect," you whisper, your voice cracked but full of sincerity. In your mind, Jayce is the epitome of everything you don’t believe you are: strong, confident, unshakable.

Jayce smiles softly, his hand caressing your cheek, wiping away the tears still falling. "No, I’m just a man in love. A man who loves you madly." His voice is warm, filled with a tenderness that disarms you. "Why don’t you show me that precious smile of yours? Please, it would make me so happy."

His sweet words touch your heart, and the corners of your lips stretch on their own, forming a sad smile.

"Gorgeous," Jayce murmured, caressing your lips with his strong, calloused fingers.

"Flatterer," you reply with a more elaborate smile, your eyes still wet, but now with a different shine, one that reflects the spark of hope he’s ignited in you.

"I’m just stating facts. I’m a scientist, honey, so I can tell you that, from my perspective, it’s scientifically proven that you’re gorgeous," he commented wryly, a wit that made you laugh.

Jayce smiled and kissed your forehead, holding you firmly in his arms. Finally, you feel like you can breathe, like air is filling your lungs again without that constant weight on your chest.

Ekko Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD)

The room is silent except for the soft hum of music playing in the background, but your mind cannot stop racing. Your thoughts scatter like arrows shot in every direction. You try to focus on something, anything, but it feels as though your brain is in a constant battle between the ideas that come and go. The light from the lamp flickers irregularly, and for a moment, you wonder if the bulb is about to explode. This makes no sense, you know that, but the unease lingers.

You quickly get up from the bed, taking a misstep, tripping over a chair you hadn’t seen, barely avoiding it. Your heart races. Everything is a series of chaotic jumps in your head, an endless torrent of thoughts that can’t follow a single path. You look at the desk, with papers scattered about—unfinished projects, ideas you can’t ground. Everything calls to you, but you can’t focus on anything.

Your hands tremble slightly as you grab the pen and begin to write down an idea that came to you, but before you finish the sentence, a new image flashes in your mind. You stop, leaving the pen on the desk and staring out the window. Something about the glow of the stars makes you think of something else. You can’t concentrate. Everything distracts you, even the small noises you used to never notice. It’s so annoying.

Suddenly, you feel the stress begin to accumulate in your shoulders. It’s not just the lack of concentration; it’s the sense of constantly running toward something without ever arriving. You try to finish a task, but more and more thoughts pile up, projects, things that need doing. Everything seems urgent, and nothing seems possible to complete. Anxiety settles in your chest.

You’re about to get up again when you hear the sound of the door opening behind you. Ekko enters the room, his calming presence is the only thing that makes you stop for a moment. He watches you in silence for a few seconds, noticing the frenzy of your movements. You hadn’t realized, but your breathing is irregular, and you’ve gotten up twice without purpose. Something isn’t right.

He watches you quietly, understanding the internal struggle you’re facing. He knows what this means, what it costs you every day.

“What’s going on? Why are you so worked up?” he asks, his voice soft but with enough authority to make you stop and listen.

Your eyes focus on a fixed point, but you can’t find the words to explain what you’re feeling. You don’t know how to put into words what’s happening. It’s like you’re trapped in a cycle of thoughts that never stop.

“My mind... it doesn’t stop moving,” you finally manage to say, almost in a whisper. “Every time I try to do something, it’s like something else distracts me. Nothing stays. Everything slips away.”

Ekko watches you silently for a moment, understanding the fight you’re facing. He knows exactly what this feels like.

“I get it, babe,” he responds, his tone firm but gentle. “I know your mind’s all over the place right now, but I promise we can do this one step at a time. We’ll focus on one thing at a time, no pressure. Sound good?”

The fact that Ekko is offering to be there, without judgment, brings you relief. You know that the impulsiveness you feel, the urge to move without a plan, is something that consumes you. Your mind jumps from one thought to another, and each of those thoughts feels like an urgent need, an immediate necessity. But at the same time, nothing makes sense. Everything is scattered and out of control.

“It’s just that...” your words fade into the air, unable to be completed. You feel trapped in your own body, in your own brain. You can’t stop, but you can’t move forward either.

Ekko gently places a hand on your shoulder, his touch calming. “How can we start?” he asks sincerely, not rushing you. “Tell me what you need.”

For a moment, everything seems to stop. The flood of thoughts quiets down, and for the first time in a long while, you can think clearly, even if it’s just for an instant. It’s not about having everything figured out right away; it’s about feeling that someone is there, willing to stand by you while you navigate through the mental whirlwind.

“I just... I don’t know how to do it without jumping from one thing to another,” you murmur, frustration and shame creeping into your voice. “I feel like everything’s overwhelming, and I can’t focus on anything.”

“We’ll take it slow,” Ekko replies, his tone calm and direct. “First, breathe. The first step is to breathe, and then we can start with just one thing. The rest can wait.”

You close your eyes for a moment and follow his words. You breathe deeply, slowly, trying to find the balance that always seems so hard to reach. Ekko is there, not rushing you, waiting for your mind to settle. With his help, little by little, you manage to focus on one small task, one that’s manageable enough not to overwhelm you. It’s just one step, but it’s a step toward calm.

“You don’t have to do it all right now,” Ekko says softly. “What matters is that you’re not alone in this. We’ll go step by step.”

You feel the knot in your stomach loosening, even though there’s still much to do. But at this moment, with him by your side, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you can find a way toward a little peace.

After hours of work and soft laughter, you’re sitting on the floor, with Ekko beside you, both looking at the pieces left to place in a puzzle. It’s almost complete, the pieces fitting perfectly, and though the hours have flown by, you feel lighter, the atmosphere quieter.

“One more,” Ekko says with a smile, holding up a piece in the air. He passes it to you, and together, you place it in its spot, completing the picture. The puzzle is done, and though it’s a small accomplishment, it feels more meaningful than it seems. Not just because of what you’ve completed, but because you’ve managed to feel centered, accompanied.

When you look at the drawing you had left unfinished, now finally complete, you feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Ekko helped bring to life the image that only existed in your mind, his hands working alongside yours, following every line with care.

“You did it,” Ekko says, his eyes shining with pride. “My girl is incredible.” He pulled you into his lap and kissed your forehead.

You look at him, your heart beating a little faster. The fatigue of the afternoon washes over you, but you don’t care. All that matters is that he’s here, by your side, and that, for once, you feel at peace. The air feels lighter, as if the space between you two has been reduced, softened by the stillness of the moment.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your words barely a whisper, but full of gratitude.

Ekko turns toward you, his expression softening. “Don’t thank me. Thank yourself. You’re the one who made it happen, not me.”

The way he looks at you, the way his presence has become part of your space, makes you smile. And, in a moment of impulse, without thinking too much about it, you move a little closer. He seems to understand it instantly, and before you can second-guess yourself, his lips brush against yours. It’s a soft kiss, no rush, no urgency, just a moment where words aren’t needed.

When you pull away, both of you stay there, looking at each other, the air between you charged with something that doesn’t need to be named. Ekko smiles, his eyes sparkling with that glint that makes you feel as though everything is right, as if the world, for a moment, is in its place.

“Everything’s okay now,” Ekko says softly, filling you with calm.

And in that instant, you believe him.

Silco Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)

The air in Silco's office is thick with tension, as always. The sound of the bustling city echoes through the glass windows, but inside, everything is still, almost as rigid as the gaze Silco fixes on you. You're sitting across from him, feeling a familiar dizziness, as if everything is out of control and, at the same time, you're trapped in an empty space. A mix of confusion and anxiety courses through every fiber of your being.

Your hands tremble slightly, and although you try to control your breathing, each inhalation seems to sink you further into the internal chaos. The voices in your head blend together, demanding answers, claiming something you can't give. Silco watches you calmly, but it's a cold, calculated calm, as if everything that's going on inside you is a game he knows how to play.

You feel the emptiness consuming you, and yet an unbearable pressure weighs on your chest. Your mind betrays you, throwing destructive thoughts at you, telling you you're worthless, that everything you do is doomed to fail. The contradiction is overwhelming: on one hand, you feel lost, and on the other, you refuse to give in to the feeling of helplessness.

"Are you alright?" Silco asks, his voice low and steady, but there's a slight intensity in his tone. He doesn't break eye contact, as if he's evaluating every micro-expression on your face, every movement. He knows you're not, but still, he asks. Is it a test? A need to know how far you can go? The silence stretches on, and your thoughts only intensify.

The urge to stand up and run from it all is strong. Everything in you screams to follow your impulses, to escape, to flee from the overwhelming weight of it all. But you stay there, because something in you knows that running will only plunge you deeper into the darkness you're feeling inside. You see yourself fighting, trying to maintain control, but every second makes you feel more lost.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what's happening to me," you whisper, your voice broken, struggling against the avalanche of emotions threatening to drown you. You feel the tears pressing behind your eyes, but you force yourself to keep composure. "It's just... it's all so intense. So confusing."

Silco keeps watching you in silence. There's no judgment in his gaze, only a calculated assessment, as if he's reading between the lines of your suffering. After a long moment, he sighs and stands up from his chair, approaching you slowly. It's not a sudden gesture, but calm, as if he's used to dealing with people who struggle with their own minds. He says nothing, but his presence is the only thing anchoring you in this moment.

With one hand, he takes yours. The contact is firm, but not aggressive, as if he's giving you space to breathe, but also space to not escape. In his eyes, something changes. There's an understanding that you can't fully decipher, but it fills you with a strange sensation, like, for the first time in a long time, you're not alone in the storm raging inside you.

"Your mind is betraying you," Silco says calmly, his voice soft but full of an authority that makes you feel that everything happening has a purpose. "It's an enemy that everyone must face at some point. But you don't have to face it alone."

The words fall on you like a stone, but strangely, they allow you to relax, even if only for a moment. The internal chaos you've always felt halts for an instant. And in that silence, you're finally able to breathe.

"All of this... this emptiness, the feeling that nothing matters, it's not your fault," Silco continues, his tone firm, though not without a strange gentleness. "It's just a phase, a moment that will pass. But you need to control it. Not let it take over you."

You feel vulnerable, but at the same time, a part of you relaxes in his closeness. Silco doesn't tell you that it's okay, nor does he promise easy solutions. He speaks to you with reality, with that harshness that you know comes from someone who understands suffering, but who doesn't have time to sugarcoat the truth.

"What you're feeling is real, but it's also transient. Not everything is as final as you think," he adds, his gaze fixed on yours with intensity. "You can be stronger than this."

The words resonate in your mind as you take a deep breath. You don't know if you fully believe them, but for some reason, in this moment, the darkness feels less imposing. You're not completely free of it, but at least you feel you're not entirely alone. Silco is here, firm and without judgment, waiting for you to take control of your own mind, without expecting you to do it immediately, but giving you the possibility to believe that you'll manage.

The pressure in your chest doesn't disappear completely, but a small crack of calm starts to open within you. And though you know your inner struggles won't end immediately, for the first time in a long while, you don't feel as lost. Silco looks at you one last time, without haste, but with a silent certainty.

"When you're ready, you can get out of this. I'll be here."

You're surprised by how firm his voice sounds, as if, by saying it, he's committed to being a constant presence. And although you don't fully understand how he does it, you realize that, in this moment, his steadiness helps you more than any empty words of comfort.

The world continues around you, but somehow, Silco has given you the strength to face it.

The silence between you and Silco lingers for a moment, but it's no longer the same silence as before. There's a strange peace, almost comforting, in the way he holds you, in the closeness you now feel between you both. The contact of his hand, firm and steady, gives you an anchor amidst the storm that still rages inside you.

A sigh escapes your lips without you noticing, and for a moment, it's not one of despair, but of relief. Silco, still keeping his gaze fixed on you, takes one more step closer. It's not a quick or rushed step, but a calculated one, as if he's sure that, in this moment, the only thing you need is that closeness, that calm presence.

Without saying anything, his fingers gently caress your cheek, a soft gesture that cuts through you. There's a tenderness in his movements that you hadn't anticipated, something that seems in complete contradiction with the person you know, but that, in this moment, comforts you more than any words. You feel vulnerable, but you don't fear it, not now.

Your breathing gradually calms, and Silco, silently, moves a little closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of his body. The space between you is almost nonexistent now, and you can feel his breath in rhythm with yours. There's something in his presence that soothes you, that gives you the feeling that everything will be okay, even though it still feels hard to believe.

Finally, his lips come close to yours with an unexpected softness. It's not a hasty or desperate kiss, but something slower, more measured. The brush of his lips against yours is so gentle that it surprises you, as if he's waiting for you to accept it, for you to be ready. And you are. Though your mind is still filled with doubts and fears, something inside you tells you that this is the moment you can allow yourself to be vulnerable, that you can receive something that won't hurt you.

The kiss deepens slowly, and in that instant, the world seems to fade away around you. All that remains is the warmth of his body, the firmness of his arms around you, and the gentle contact of his lips, like a silent promise that, even though the future is uncertain, for a moment, everything is alright.

When you finally pull away, no words are needed. Silco looks at you with an intensity you've never seen before, but in his eyes, there's something more, something you can't describe, something that makes you feel that, despite everything you've been through, you're not alone.

"I told you you were strong," he whispers, his voice deep and soft at the same time.

And for a moment, everything seems enough.

Mel Chronic Stress Disorder

The atmosphere is thick with tension, but it's a different kind of tension. It's a quiet calm, yet at the same time, it is filled with the constant threat of what could happen. You’re there, in one of the rooms of the mansion, sitting on a chair by the window, gazing out at the illuminated city, but unable to really see anything. The world around you seems to blur, as if a layer of fog has settled over your senses, blurring every detail and leaving only the emptiness of your thoughts.

Mel, who has been watching your behavior for the past few minutes, approaches with a palpable gentleness in her movements. Her presence is firm, but not intrusive. From a distance, she’s observed how the symptoms of your chronic stress have taken over you, how anxiety and mental exhaustion have combined to make you feel beyond your limits.

She crouches slightly to be at your level, her eyes fixed on yours, searching for your attention. “I notice you’re not yourself, and I know it’s because the weight of everything has piled up,” she says in a low voice, her tone soft yet firm. “But I want you to listen. You have the right to rest. You don’t have to carry the world, not all the time.”

Despite her words, you feel a pressure in your chest that won’t ease. Everything feels too big, too heavy. Chronic stress consumes you, leaving your thoughts tangled while your body responds with a deep exhaustion that doesn’t seem to go away no matter what you do.

Mel, noticing the internal struggle that consumes you, steps closer and, without warning, places a firm hand on your shoulder. It’s not a gesture of force, but of support. A sign that she’s here, silently, but available to help you find the balance you need.

“Your body is telling you it needs to stop,” she continues, with a softness that’s hard to deny. “Those moments of despair, of exhaustion... they’re real. But you don’t have to go through it alone, no matter how much you think you can.”

The contact of her hand on you, her quiet strength, begins to offer some relief. Even though the weight still lingers, something in you relaxes. It’s as if her words offer you a rope to hold onto, something tangible in the fog that seems to surround your mind.

You lean forward, your fingers briefly touching your forehead as you try to calm the agitation still coursing through you. The stress, that constant pressure in your life, seems unwilling to let go of you, but at least in this moment, with Mel by your side, you can breathe a little more deeply.

“I’ll be here,” Mel whispers, like an unbreakable promise. “If you need to rest, I’ll help you find peace. You don’t have to go on alone.”

For the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to think that, maybe, it’s possible to let go of some of that burden. Mel’s voice, soft yet full of certainty, is a refuge in the midst of the chaos in your mind.

Mel doesn’t expect you to feel guilty for your exhaustion. She doesn’t demand that you change or “overcome” your chronic stress overnight. She only gives you space to feel what you need to feel and to acknowledge that, even though the road may be long, you don’t have to walk it alone.

When your eyes lift and meet hers, there’s something in your gaze that softens. The stress doesn’t vanish immediately, but the simple fact that someone understands you, that someone is staying with you without judging, gives you something you didn’t have before: the possibility of healing.

The silence between you both is comfortable. It’s a silence of acceptance and understanding. And as Mel remains by your side, her presence becomes something that offers comfort, not an immediate solution, but a step toward the calm you so desperately need.

After a long silence, Mel slowly approaches you, and her eyes, filled with softness and understanding, capture you. She takes your hand, with a delicacy that makes you feel lighter, as if the weight of your mind could lessen just with that contact.

“You know, right?” she whispers, her voice gentle but firm. “I’ve seen you fight, and still, you’re here, being so incredible. And to me, that’s what really matters. Not everything you’ve been through, but who you are now.”

The sparkle in her eyes makes you blush slightly, and your heart beats a little faster.

“Mel...” you whisper, barely able to find the words, feeling your nerves breaking. “I don’t know what I’d do without you…”

She smiles, moving closer. “I’m here, for whatever you need, for anything, always.”

Without saying another word, Mel gently caresses your cheek, as if every movement is a silent promise. Then, you see her lean in toward you, her face so close to yours that you can feel the brush of her breath.

“You’re my refuge, you know that, right?” Mel says, with sincerity that runs deep within you.

And without another word, her lips find yours, in a tender, almost urgent kiss, as if she wanted to convey everything she couldn’t with words. When she pulls away, her eyes shine with an unmistakable softness.

“I love you, with all my being. And that won’t change.”

You shiver slightly at her words, but instead of insecurity, you find comfort. Her eyes transmit calm to you, and for the first time, you realize that she’s willing to be the peace you so need.

Sevika Bipolar Disorder

The darkness surrounds you, but it’s not physical darkness; it’s something denser, creeping through every corner of your mind. It’s one of those days. You don’t know for sure, but you feel it deep in your gut: something has changed. There’s a void in your chest that you don’t know how to fill, and a sensation in your stomach that twists you up. You’ve been through this before. The bipolar disorder drags you, takes you as its own without warning, pushing you from one extreme to the other in a matter of hours, minutes.

You wake up feeling the weight of sadness, a sadness that feels physical, sinking you into the mattress as if the sheets were lead. You don’t want to move, think, or do anything. You just feel empty, as if all your strength has evaporated. The room seems smaller, the walls pressing in on you. Your legs don’t respond when you try to get up. A knot forms in your throat, but the tears won’t come. There’s no energy for that, just the weight of despair.

You don’t see her enter. Her presence is silent, but solid. Sevika knows something is wrong, she feels it even before you tell her. When you look at her, her expression doesn’t change, but there’s something in her eyes that makes you feel that the situation is serious. There’s no surprise, no fear, just a cold, calculating understanding. Sevika isn’t one to lose her calm easily. And that makes you even more confused, making you feel like you don’t belong in that moment, like you’re not the person she expects to see.

“What’s going on?” she asks, not softening anything. The question isn’t condescending, nor filled with concern. It’s direct, almost harsh, she doesn’t beat around the bush. She knows that, when you’re like this, empty words don’t help.

You struggle to form a response. You can’t, really. Your thoughts are tangled in an incomprehensible chaos. But she doesn’t expect you to explain anything. Sevika approaches, sits on the edge of the bed. Her gaze never leaves you, as if she’s evaluating your soul, searching for a point of vulnerability, a sign of what to do next. She has the ability to see beyond your emotions, beyond the depression that consumes you and the anxiety that makes you tremble. She knows that right now there’s nothing rational in your mind, but understanding is her only response. Patience mixes with a slight touch of toughness, as she always does with things she can’t control.

“You’re staying here. You’re not going to do anything impulsive. You’re not going to try to run out of here or make this worse,” she says with a calm coldness that leaves no room for objection. You know that, in this moment, she’s the only voice of reason you can hear.

You’re aware that Sevika is used to dealing with extreme situations, but this one is different. She watches you closely, but from a distance, as if she’s weighing the damage, calculating what she can do to keep you safe. You don’t see fear in her, but you see resolve. She doesn’t switch into “rescuer mode,” she doesn’t try to hug you or tell you that everything will be fine. What she says, she says with authority because she knows that if she gives in, chaos will take control, and everything she’s worked to keep stable will fall apart.

In the internal struggle between your broken mind and the anger that begins to build up inside of you, Sevika is the rock that keeps you from diving into the void. But she also knows she can’t ignore your emotions. Her expression hardens slightly when she realizes there’s something more going on. “I’m telling you this because you know it, not because I need to explain it to you,” she whispers, making it clear that there’s no room for games.

When you finally speak, it’s in whispers, as if your words have weight and could break you. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m... I’m so tired of this constant back and forth. I can’t handle it.”

Sevika doesn’t change her posture. She doesn’t tell you that she’s going to “fix” you, nor does she try to cure you. She knows that what you have doesn’t have an easy fix, but she does have tools to deal with the situation. “You don’t need to fix anything right now. You need to rest. Let what’s going to happen, happen, but don’t make decisions you’ll regret later. Do you understand me?” her voice is firm, but underneath there’s something else, a touch of softness she rarely shows.

The air in the room is heavy, laden with the weight of your thoughts, like a fog that prevents you from seeing beyond. Sevika is there, watching you with the same intensity as always, but with an odd calm, a calm that scares you because it makes you feel like she sees it all: the chaos consuming you, the internal battle between despair and rage.

“I don’t want this to control me. I don’t want to be like this,” you murmur, the words coming out broken. You know you’re saying it more to yourself than to her, but still, the guilt pierces your chest like invisible needles. You feel like you’re not being who she expects.

Sevika stays silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on you. There’s something in her face, a line of tension in her jaw, as if she’s weighing every word before speaking. Finally, she gets a little closer, breaking the distance between your bodies.

“It’s not about what you expect from yourself. It’s about what you need right now. And what you need right now is rest, stop fighting against something you can’t control.”

Your eyes search hers, those eyes that always seem to understand more than you can verbalize. And, somehow, you feel that there’s no judgment in them, just a silent acceptance of what you’re going through. It’s strange. In the middle of the storm in your mind, Sevika gives you the feeling of being the only anchor left in your world.

Suddenly, she stretches out a hand toward you, not rushing, not in a hurry, but with the firmness that characterizes her. You take it without thinking, as if it’s the only thing that can stop the flood of erratic thoughts flooding your mind. Her touch is warm, comforting. There’s a strength in that simple gesture, something that allows you to relax, even if just for a second.

“I’m going to take care of you, understand?” she whispers, her voice low, barely a breath. There are no empty promises in her words, just a statement of fact. But in her tone, you find a softness that she rarely shows. It’s like, for a brief moment, her heart opens a little more, even if she doesn’t fully recognize it.

The moment stretches on, and even though the storm in your mind hasn’t ceased, there’s something in you that feels a little lighter. Sevika doesn’t have the solution to your pain, but her presence, her closeness, gives you a peace you never even imagined.

Without thinking, you move a little closer to her, seeking that warmth. Her fingers interlace with yours, and for the first time all day, you don’t feel completely broken. Sevika has never promised you a happy ending, but in this moment, you don’t need one. The simple fact of being here, of having her close, gives you a reason to keep going, even if just for a little while longer.

“I love you,” you say without thinking, and the words come out with a clarity that surprises you. It’s not a grand declaration, it’s not a promise that everything will be okay, but it’s something real, something you never thought you could say to anyone before.

“I love you too, doll,” she responds with a half-smile, though her eyes seem softer than ever. And, for a second, the world seems to stop. The anxiety, the disorder in your head, dissipate, if only for a brief moment.

She leans in a little toward you, and in that instant, all that matters is the touch of her lips on your forehead, a simple gesture but filled with affection. The silence between you both is comfortable, no pressure, just the comfort of being together, knowing that, even if the world around you falls apart, Sevika will be the one to keep you steady.

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souljahwwitch · 1 day ago

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PINK HAIRED SWEETHEART!

;hc’s for thanos and reader with pink hair who hate eachother

“i fucking hate that pink haired sweetheart”

۫ ꣑ৎ; thanos who immediately noticed you, pink hair and doe eyes—everyone noticed you two, the unusal hair color making you two stand out in amidst of 456 players

۫ ꣑ৎ; thanos who, of course, first flirted with you and, of course, got his ego hurt because you just ignored him—you were here to win, not get distracted by stupid rappers.

۫ ꣑ৎ; thanos who actually saved your life in the very first game, unusally so—he pulled you behind him as people in the row started to slip before the doll turned around

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost, sweetheart—need me to make it all better hm?”

۫ ꣑ৎ; thanos who-when the game was over, approached you with confidence, saying “i saved your life, i think i deserve a little kiss—don’t i?” with that cocky voice of his

“oh fuck off—i just got caught off guard and you were there.” you said—and that’s when the hatred started.

۫ ꣑ৎ; thanos who got offended after you said that-because how could him pulling you behind him be ‘no biggie’ he totally didn’t do that to get in your pants!!!

۫ ꣑ৎ; thanos who would start mocking you, pulling you by your hair everytime you pass by him, throwing your lunch on the ground—everything, and him being actually struck by your pretty eyes, even though you annoyed him so fucking much, he didn’t mind one bit when you yelled at him—in fact, he found it cute.

“stop fucking pulling my hair!” you’d yell—but he’d just smirk

“relax, angel—would be a shame if i actually ruined your pretty pink hair, wouldn’t it?” he’d coo in that annoying tone of his, and you’d just hiss at him, walking away as he watched you with annoyance in his eyes—nam-gyu just watching you two in disbelief

۫ ꣑ৎ; thanos who’d watch you actually being sweet to others, trying to help everyone around you—except him, and that annoyed him to no end, why would you be sweet to those losers when he was right there!!

“man you need to stop looking at her like that.” nam-gyu said as they both watched you sparing your lunch and giving it to some scared boy

“i fucking hate that pink haired sweetheart.”

۫ ꣑ৎ; thanos who, once in this whole time, took a pity on you when he saw you on your bed—hugging your knees and hiding your face in them as you sniffled, too scared of watching people die around you—and him being him, he approached you—his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

“y’know it’s not your fault, right? i know you wanna help everyone but you’re not some kind of savior.” he says to you, but he sees that it doesn’t make it any better

“you know—i fucking hate you, but when we get out of here with shit ton of money, we’re gonna go to some pretty little cafe, and the soda’s on me, deal?” he says, and that actually makes you smile—so you nod in acceptance, and it makes his heart skip a beat

۫ ꣑ৎ; thanos who, in the game mingle, as soon as the number that was shouted was two, he pulled you by your wrist and ran with you to a room, he didn’t know why he did it, he hates you—you hate him. but it’s something you two are gonna talk about when you get out of here.

#squid game #thanos #thanos squid game #thanos x reader #squid game fic #choi su bong x reader #choi su bong #squid game x reader

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smurphette98 · 2 days ago

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So, I did this not with a villain, but with an NPC from a D&D campaign I’m running on a day where the group didn’t meet. It’s under the cut if you wanna give it a read!

(CW: discussion of death, resurrection, the afterlife, and murder)

Subreddit: r/relationshipadvice

Title: I haven’t seen my husband in 5 years (because I was dead) and I just found out that he left our daughter with his mother for that whole time.

Posted by u/Lovemordian

Apologies in advance if my Common isn’t great; it isn’t my first language.

I (21F) was recently resurrected by a party member of my husband’s (now 26M) after dying in his arms five years ago. Admittedly, the experience was wonderful, since I had always hoped that magic was real and not just the stuff of children’s stories, and I am not upset at living once more. The afterlife is…well, it’s beyond what I need to discuss here.

The issue I am having is this: while I was dead, I was comforted in the knowledge that our daughter (now 8F) was not going to grow up completely parentless even if I could not be with her. However, when I saw her again after returning to life, she mentioned that her grandmother, my husband’s mother, had been caring for her this whole time. She did not grow up with her father, and the one thought that had kept me sane while wandering the fields of the waiting became a lie.

He says that he left her behind with his parents to ensure that no one would use her to pressure him, that the Flesh Collectors wouldn’t use her as bait to get to him. Though I understand the logic of this, I can’t help but feel a bit disappointed. It feels like he’s trying to be the man he was 5 years ago, but I know he’s gone through much in my absence and I wish he would just be honest with me about it. Does anyone have any advice for how to talk to him about this? In some ways, it does feel a bit as if I’m approaching him as a stranger once more.

Update: Thank you to all who replied with your advices and your recommendations. I do want to answer a few of the questions I saw most frequently:

1) Apparently, he tried to avenge my murder after the judge had been paid off, stealing a highly advanced prototypical weapon designed by a classmate of ours (27 NB) to do it. This is why the Flesh Collectors were after him and why he apparently joined a guild for thieves and assassins that, if I understood him right, was run by a staff member at the university? I don’t know; he seems more comfortable speaking Common than Lamordian, so I may be misunderstanding things.

2) Flesh Collectors are sort of like a police force, but more than anything they are scavengers who harvest body parts that scientists need for their work. The “ethical” ones wait until a body is dead to harvest. The majority of them are not ethical.

Now, onto the update: I had the open conversation with my husband that so many of you recommended. I just asked him to tell me what kinds of things had happened while I was dead, and he was honest with me, just as I always remember him being.

While he was on the run for his vengeance, he fell in with the guild I mentioned and did “less than honorable things” to put aside money for our daughter’s future. At first, I thought he was implying that he had sold intimate favors, but he clarified that it was killing people. He did put aside quite a bit, over 10,000 gp, so I do think it was well-meant. And our daughter seems to hold no resentment toward him, so I don’t suppose I should either. For anyone out there who has been resurrected after a while, is this distance I’m feeling just a symptom of that, or is it something I should be concerned about? Perhaps I should speak to my mother-in-law, as she has always been a source of wisdom in my life. I don’t think I will need to update further, but if more developments happen, I will be sure to let you all know.

if you're trying to get into the head of your story's antagonist, try writing an "Am I the Asshole" reddit post from their perspective, explaining their problems and their plans for solving them. Let the voice and logic come through.

#d&d #just DM things #these characters are so sweet I love them so much #Odysseus and Penelope in Epic vibes

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tempobaekh · 3 days ago

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Jacked and kind super soldier

Pairings: bucky barnes x civilian!f!reader

Warnings: FLUFFF, cutie, bucky being jacked and kind, maybe ooc bucky?

A/N: this trend is the cutest this everrrr. i HAD to write it for my fav super soldier. i also read a rafe cameron one somewhere a bit ago and got inspired by that lol. also I KNOW THAT IS THE HYDRA ARM IN THE PICTURE i just needed a picture of his metal arm kinda flexing.

The weekend was your sanctuary—a blissful retreat where the rest of the world melted away, leaving just you and Bucky in the warm cocoon of your apartment. The soft hum of the shower from the bathroom filled the air as you lounged on the couch, your phone in hand, scrolling through TikTok aimlessly. Alpine was curled up on the armrest, purring softly as if she, too, reveled in the peace.

As you swiped through your feed, a familiar trend popped up—a montage of strong men lifting their girlfriends effortlessly while Sabrina Carpenter’s “Slim Pickins” played in the background. The lyrics floated through your mind: “A boy who’s jacked and kind…”

Each video showed the guy flashing a proud smile, flexing an arm while the girl laughed, clearly enamored by the display of strength. A wistful sigh escaped your lips. The trend wasn’t new; you’d seen it countless times but never mustered the courage to ask Bucky to try it.

Bucky was still adjusting to modern life, often overwhelmed by the ever-changing whirlwind of social media and trends. While he was always a good sport about trying new things, you were careful not to overwhelm him, only occasionally roping him into your TikTok antics. Even then, you had maybe two or three TikToks of you both on your account.

But this trend? This trend stirred a little thrill in you. You couldn’t help but wonder—how would it feel to be hoisted onto his shoulder, his strength so effortless it was almost unfair? Would he smile that soft, proud smile you loved so much? Would he flex just to humor you?

Your lips twisted thoughtfully. Could you even ask? Would he think it was silly?

“Just ask,” you mutter to yourself, biting your lip as you stare at the video again. The sound of the shower shutting off jolts you out of your thoughts. Moments later, Bucky steps out into the living room, his dark hair damp and tousled, a gray t-shirt clinging to his broad chest. Alpine immediately perks up, trotting over to greet him.

“Hey, doll,” he says with a warm smile, rubbing a towel through his hair. “What’re you up to?”

You stand, heart thudding slightly as you approach him. “Buck, can I ask you for a favor?”

His brows furrow slightly, curiosity flickering in his stormy blue eyes. “Of course. What’s up?”

“Well...” you start, clutching your phone like it’s a lifeline. “There’s this trend on TikTok I’ve seen a lot. It’s harmless, I swear! But it involves... you lifting me. For a video.”

Bucky tilts his head, his expression a mix of amusement and confusion. “Lifting you? Like how?”

You quickly explain, pulling up the video and showing him. As he watches, you can see the flicker of understanding cross his face, followed by a soft chuckle.

“So, you want me to do that?” he asks, a teasing grin tugging at his lips.

“Yes,” you say with an embarrassed laugh, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. “But only if you’re okay with it!”

He pauses for a moment, then shrugs. “Why not? Seems harmless enough. And if it makes you happy...”

Your face lights up, and you throw your arms around him. “Thank you, Buck!"

Setting your phone up on the coffee table, you adjust the camera angle until both of you are perfectly framed. The familiar 10-second countdown begins, and you quickly fluff your hair, glancing back at Bucky, who’s standing behind you with an easy smile.

“Ready?” you ask, your voice tinged with excitement.

“Ready when you are, doll.”

The countdown hits zero, and the familiar opening notes of “Slim Pickins” filled the room. Before you can even do a little jump to help him, Bucky’s large hands—one warm, the other cool and firm—grip your waist. In one effortless motion, he hoists you onto his shoulder like you weigh nothing, his flesh arm supporting you.

“Bucky!” you gasped, laughing as you suddenly found yourself perched on his shoulder, your legs dangling. You clung to his shirt instinctively, though you knew he’d never let you fall.

He looked up at you with that soft, proud smile you adored.

Then, to your utter delight, he glances at the camera and flexes his metal arm, the vibranium glinting under the soft light. You giggle uncontrollably, your cheeks aching from the sheer happiness coursing through you.

When the music ends, he gently sets you down, his hands lingering at your waist as he looks at you with a soft smile. “How’d I do?”

“Amazing,” you say breathlessly, darting over to grab your phone and watch the video. The grin on your face only widens as you replay it.

Bucky walks over and wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You’re cute when you’re excited, you know that?”

“Thank you for doing this,” you say, leaning back into his warmth.

“Anything for you, doll,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Later, as you upload the video, the comments start pouring in, and each one makes you laugh harder.

Each comment had you laughing harder, while Bucky groaned in mock exasperation. “What is wrong with people?” he muttered, though the pink tint to his ears betrayed his embarrassment.

“Oh, c’mon,” you teased, nudging him playfully. “You’re the internet’s new heartthrob. Own it.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. “As long as you’re happy, doll.”

You leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Always. Thank you for indulging me.”

“Like I said, anything for you,” he said softly, pulling you into a warm embrace.

You snuggle closer to him, your heart full as he pulls you against his chest. For a moment, the world fades away, leaving just the two of you and the easy comfort of being together.

Note: gifs, pictures, and header DOES NOT belong to me. CREDITS TO THE RIGHTFUL OWNERS!! Feedback and reblog is appreciated.<3

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strayingawayy · 3 days ago

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doodle princess (dad! hyunjin)

it was a lazy afternoon, and the sound of soft brushes against paper filled the cozy room. the sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. hyunjin sat on the floor, his legs crossed beneath him, a canvas of vibrant colors spread out in front of him. his tiny daughter, only a little over a year old, sat in front of him, a small paintbrush in her hand. the little girl giggled as she dabbed the brush into a cup of water, the bristles swaying playfully as she mimicked her father's every move.

hyunjin was in his element. he had always enjoyed painting, but since becoming a parent, he found himself getting lost in more than just his art. his thoughts often wandered to his family, and now, as he painted, they became the subject of his work. he had always doodled, usually sketches of his love for you—lines that captured your smile, your essence, your very being. but now, his art had evolved. no longer were his doodles just of you; they included the tiny miracle he and you had created together.

as hyunjin worked on his newest piece, he couldn’t help but glance at his daughter sitting beside him. her chubby little hands clutched her brush as she carefully made tiny strokes on her own little paper. the sight made his heart swell, a sense of pride that no canvas could quite capture. his daughter was a masterpiece in her own right, and every day he spent with her was like painting his own personal heaven.

"look, sweetheart," he said, his voice tender, "you’re making art just like daddy."

you stood by the door, arms crossed, watching the scene before you. you had always admired hyunjin’s dedication to his art, but seeing him like this, in such a domestic, tender moment, filled your heart with something more. your little girl was a perfect mix of the two of you, with her father’s expressive eyes and your smile.

she babbled to herself, her eyes locked on the colors in front of her, her tiny face scrunched in concentration. her gaze shifted between the painting and hyunjin’s hands, as if trying to decode the magic behind each stroke.

a giggle broke your thoughts. your daughter’s tiny finger pointed excitedly at one of the doodles hyunjin had painted—a rough but endearing image of her. the likeness was undeniable, though a bit abstract, with big eyes and an exaggerated grin.

“na-ri!” she babbled suddenly, pointing directly at the doodle of herself.

hyunjin’s eyes widened in surprise, and he quickly looked at you, barely able to contain his laughter. “did she… did she just say her name? as her first word at that?”

you blinked, a small chuckle escaping your lips as you approached them. “i think she did. but wait—why is she saying her own name instead of ma or da?"

hyunjin’s expression shifted from surprise to a proud, mischievous grin. “she must be taking after her old man, huh?” he said, giving his daughter a teasing look. "so humble, so self-aware. you definitely take after your daddy, little one. you already know how to recognize your own greatness.”

you snorted, unable to hold back the laughter. "oh, so you’re teaching her narcissism already, huh? at least wait until she's older for that."

“she’s a genius," hyunjin said, his voice dripping with pride. "it’s not narcissism if it’s true.”

your daughter giggled, clearly enjoying the attention. she looked at her father with the same gleam in her eyes that you had seen countless times before. it was the gleam of someone who knew they were loved, who knew they were everything.

“you’re so spoiled,” you said, teasing hyunjin now. “i can't believe you’re making our daughter narcissistic already."

hyunjin chuckled, placing his paintbrush down and scooping her into his lap. “she’s just confident. that’s all. but i guess you’re right. i’ll take it easy on her. let’s see if she says da next time.”

but as he held her close, the little girl turned her attention back to the paper, where her name was written in swirling letters beneath her doodled face. she babbled again, sounding almost like she was repeating the syllables. it was clear that she was as in love with her own name as her father was with his art.

you sat down next to them, leaning against hyunjin. “well, at least she has good taste.”

hyunjin rested his head against yours, a playful smile on his face. “she’s my masterpiece. of course, she’d be a little self-absorbed.”

you couldn't stop laughing as you watched them together- father and daughter, both lost in the magic of art and family. you had always known hyunjin was talented, but there was something even more beautiful about his creations now. they weren’t just art; they were a reflection of the love he had for you, for your little girl, and for the life you had built together.

with a loving sigh, you wrapped your arm around him, your daughter still babbling happily in in his lap. as the laughter echoed through the room, you couldn't help but feel that this was the masterpiece you'd always been waiting for- perfect, in every little way.

___

everybody say thank you @hwajin @astraystayyh for indulging with me 🙂‍↕️

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itsnesss · 1 day ago

Note

hii, i already love your works sm and i was wondering if i could request a jun-ho fic where him and fem!reader search his brother and they can’t keep their hands off of each other? ;) and one day after reader teases jun-ho too much he just fucks her into the bathroom? i’m so sorry if that sounded weird 😭

love ya <333

𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | smut, explicit content, tension-filled interactions, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, slight power dynamics

word count | 2.5 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me thanks ᡣ𐭩

The search for his brother has become more than a mission. It has stopped being just a matter of finding him. Every minute by his side, every stolen glance, every shared sigh... makes you forget everything else. The obsession with finding him has given way to a palpable tension between you and Jun-ho. At every corner, every place where they stop, their hands meet by accident, their bodies brush against each other as if it were inevitable. As if there were something beyond the search, something you can't control.

On one of those long and frustrating nights. They had followed a lead about Jun-ho's brother that had taken them to a small town, but the contact never showed up. They ended up in a rundown motel, sharing a room because the budget couldn't stretch any further.

You had tried to sleep, but between the noise of the old fan and the feeling of Jun-ho just a couple of meters away, it was impossible. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, reviewing some papers under the dim light of the bedside lamp, frowning as always.

"You should rest," you said from your bed, your voice heavy with sleep and annoyance. Keep staring at it won't make your brother magically appear.

Jun-ho looked up, clearly irritated, but also a bit tired.

"I can't".

You got up, leaning against the headboard of the bed, crossing your arms.

"You're such a stubborn one, you know?" you joked, although there was some truth in your words. "You always want to carry everything on your own".

"And you always have something to say, don't you?" he replied, his tone sharp but without real anger.

The conversation continued for a while, small jibes that gradually eased the day's tension. But as they talked, the atmosphere changed. There was something different in the way he looked at you that night, something beyond fatigue or worry.

When you stood up to approach his side, intending to snatch the papers from his hands to force him to rest, his fingers brushed against yours. It was a brief, accidental contact, but the heat it generated made both of them freeze, looking at each other in silence.

"What?" you asked, your voice softer, almost a whisper.

He didn't respond. Instead, he set the papers aside and leaned towards you. The moment was so unexpected that you didn't have time to think. His lips met yours, soft at first, as if he were tasting something he had longed for too long. But the kiss soon became more intense, more needy.

His hands moved up your arms, then to your waist, pulling you closer. You didn't resist. On the contrary, your fingers tangled in his hair as the heat in your chest intensified. You were kneeling in front of him, and you felt his heavy breath against your lips when they barely separated for a moment.

"This isn't right," he murmured, though he made no effort to move away.

"Then stop doing it," you replied, challenging him, and kissed him again, losing yourself in the way his body molded to yours.

That night didn't go beyond that. Although his hands roamed your back, your legs, and his lips left a burning trail on your neck, both stopped before crossing a line they knew would complicate everything. But after that, nothing was ever the same again. The casual touches felt more charged, the glances lingered too long, and the desire between you kept growing.

Jun-ho has never been so straightforward, but you know he is as caught up in this tightrope as you are. The nights spent reviewing clues become an excuse to be close, too close, as the hours fade away and the only thing left between you is unresolved desire.

Today is no different. You are in his apartment, a room cluttered with the mountains of papers they have accumulated during the search, and a constant feeling of discomfort that neither of you can ignore. The brush of his hands as he hands you a cup of coffee, the gentle touch of his fingers as he passes you a photo... everything feels magnified.

"What?" Jun-ho asks, raising an eyebrow when you stare for a second longer than necessary. As if you were evaluating every detail of him, every little gesture that only intensifies what you already know.

"Nothing". You shrug, but the mocking smile that forms on your lips says the exact opposite. There's something about him that makes you feel... powerful. As if you could play with him, put him to the test.

"Don't look at me like that."His voice is deeper than it should be, and his gaze darkens, as if he were waiting for one more provocation. And you know it. You know you did it on purpose.

You've seen him hesitate before, his self-control always on the edge, but this time, you can't help it. You know that what is happening between you is more than just a simple attraction. It's a whirlwind of emotions, of confusion, and above all, of something neither of you can ignore.

You don't stop, and neither does he. The tension remains constant, growing as time passes. The brush of his body near yours while you search for more clues sends shivers down your spine, but you can't pull away. You can't stop looking for an excuse to be near him.

Jun-ho walks back and forth, reviewing papers and murmuring something about clues and possible locations. You see him so serious, so engrossed in his detective role, that you can't resist making a comment to annoy him.

"Are you always this intense?" you ask, resting your chin on your hand.

He stops and glances at you sideways, bewildered.

"What do you mean?"

You smile, innocent but with a touch of mischief.

You know, all that frowning, the rigid posture, the constant "I'm solving an important case" face. I wonder if you ever relax... or if you look the same when you're, you know, at other times.

The insinuation in your voice is impossible to ignore. His eyes narrow, and you see his jaw tighten.

"In other times?" he repeats, clearly caught between confusion and challenge.

You shrug, feigning innocence.

"You know, more... private moments. Are you just as intense or do you follow a whole procedure?"

His reaction is immediate. He leaves the papers on the table and walks towards you with determined steps. Before you can get up, he leans over you, his hands resting on either side of your body.

"Do you want to find out?"

You are left speechless, but he doesn't give you time to respond. In a swift motion, he grabs your wrist and takes you to the bathroom.

The feeling of having him so close, his body pressed against yours, gives you goosebumps. The desire you had contained for so long bursts forth in a wave of need.

"Is this private?" he asks, his lips brushing against yours as he unbuttons his shirt.

"Yes," you affirm, your breath quickening.

"Well". He smiles, his eyes shining with a predatory glint. "So yes, I am just as intense at other times... even more so".

And with those words, his mouth meets yours in a passionate kiss. His hands glide over your body, exploring every part of you, while yours cling to his shoulders with need. The bathroom fills with our sounds, with gasps and sighs as we lose ourselves in this long-repressed need.

"Take off your shirt," he whispers in your ear, his warm breath on your skin, and you obey without thinking. It slides off your shoulders and falls to the ground, and before you can speak, your fingers sink into his hair and you pull him towards you again.

"Is this what you wanted?" he gasps on your lips, his fingers climbing up your ribs and rubbing your skin in circular motions.

You stop. The question makes something change in you. It's as if a veil has been lifted, and everything suddenly became clear.

"I want more," you reply, sincere, not caring that he notices what you feel. I want to feel you. I want to make you moan. I want you to be unable to pull away from me.

And his eyes shine. Her gaze turns dark, predatory, and her lips curve into a smile.

"Wow… that's interesting". He nods, his fingers caressing your lips. "Fortunately, I can fulfill your wishes".

And before you can respond, his fingers slide over your pants. The sound of the zipper opening is loud in the silence of the bathroom, and you barely have time to process it before his hands grab your thighs and sit you on the edge of the sink.

"Strip," he orders, his eyes shifting to your pants, and you don't hesitate to obey.

You remove them immediately, and your underwear slips off with them, revealing your naked body. His eyes roam over every part of you, as if it were the first time he sees you, and his breath quickens suddenly.

"You look beautiful" he gasps, his voice deeper now, filled with need. "So beautiful..."

And again, his lips meet yours in a wild, hungry kiss. His hand moves up your thigh and grabs your leg, pressing it against his waist.

"Do you like it?" he whispers, his hand rubbing you. "Do you like what I'm doing to you?"

You nod, and his smile curves again. His fingers touch you in a way that makes your feet go cold and you tense up.

"That's interesting" he pants. "I think I'm going to need a bit more information".

And with his words, a finger begins to penetrate you. The movement is slow, as if he is unsure, but soon, his fingers begin to move in circular motions, penetrating you again and again, and you curl up, wrapping your legs around his fingers.

"Is this better?" she asks, her voice tense with desire.

"Mmm" you respond with a gasp, your fingers gripping his shoulders.

"Mmm what?"

"Yes…" you manage to say, your breath now more rapid. The pleasure is intense, it makes every part of you tense in an exquisite way. "Continue".

And he does it, his finger moving faster and deeper each time. His lips slide down to your nipples and he begins to suck on them, drawing them in with slow movements. The pleasure makes you arch towards him, trying for more, but his hand suddenly stops.

"Is that what you want?" he whispers. Do you want me to touch you?

"Yes, please" you gasp, pleading. "Don't stop..."

And his hand starts to move again. This time it is two fingers that penetrate you, slowly, but increasingly intensely. You arch towards him, with a cry of pleasure.

"And this?" Jun-ho whispers. Do you want more?

"Yes" you manage to respond, every part of you vibrating with pleasure. "Please".

"Please?" he repeats. I like that.

His fingers stop again, but before you can protest, his body shifts position, lowering slowly, and his mouth meets your sex. His lips begin to suck you, licking every part of you with slow, exquisite movements. Your body arches towards him again, trying more, and his fingers penetrate you once more.

The sensation is indescribable. The pressure inside you, the heat in your breasts, the sensation of his lips on you... everything comes together in an intense, exquisite pleasure.

"Jun-ho" you sob, your fingers sinking into his hair. "Jun-ho!"

"What?" he whispers, his eyes fixed on you.

"More... more..." you manage to stammer, trying to describe the pleasure.

And his mouth fills you up again. His lips suck you with strong movements, his fingers penetrating you faster and faster. Your body shakes with pleasure, but his mouth doesn't stop. He sucks you with frantic movements, devours you with the hunger of a man who hasn't eaten in days. His fingers caress you, touch you in the most exquisite way, and suddenly, the pleasure is overwhelming.

"Oh, god!" you moan, your fingers tugging at his hair. "Yes... yes..."

And everything fades away. The pleasure bursts into an intense orgasm, making you arch against his fingers. Your body shakes back and forth, trying to rid itself of the pleasure, but his fingers and mouth hold you there, not letting you go.

Finally, the orgasm fades, and your body collapses onto the sink. His fingers withdraw, and his mouth kisses you gently. Then, a moment later, his arms wrap around you and lift you, sitting you back on the sink.

"I think you're the best meal I've ever had," he says, his smile mischievous.

You smile too.

"You're not bad either" you tell him.

"No?" He approaches you with slow steps. "Does that mean you might want more?".

You smile at him again.

"It depends". You approach him, wrapping your arms around his waist. "What do you have to offer me?"

"Oh, I think I have something you might find interesting…" He nods, smiling. "Do you want to see it?"

You nod your head, and immediately, his fingers begin to lower his belt. He lowers his pants and lets them fall to the ground. And there it is, his member, erect, strong, ready to penetrate you.

"Do you want to try this?" gasps Jun-ho, his breath already quickened. Do you want to feel me inside you?

You smile mischievously.

"Hmm…" you respond. "I don't know, what do you offer me if I try it?"

"If you try it, I promise you'll feel something incredible". His fingers begin to caress your thighs again. "I'm going to make you feel things you've never imagined".

"Hmm…" you whisper. "Well, then it seems fine to me. I'm going to give it a try".

And immediately, you get up from the sink and approach Jun-ho. His arms close around you and push you against the bathroom wall. His eyes fixate on you, shining with intense desire as he leans against you, his member brushing against your core.

"Do you want?" he whispers.

"Yes".You nod your head. "I want!"

And her hips move forward. His member penetrates you in a gentle yet intense manner. The contact is exquisite, making you sigh with pleasure and fall into his arms.

"Is that okay?" she gasps between breaths.

"Hmm... yes" you murmur, your fingers encircling his shoulders. "Continue..."

And his hips begin to move again. His member penetrates you harder, deeper, and with each movement, the pleasure within you grows. His fingers grip your legs, lifting them towards his waist for easier access, and you let yourself go, trying to absorb all the pleasure you can.

"Do you like this?" he whispers again, his breath quickening more and more. Do you like how I touch you?

"Yes... yes..." you murmur, your breathing also becoming increasingly rapid.

"Well —he gasps with a sigh." Then I'm going to give you more... much more...

Her hips start to move again. This time his member penetrates you harder than before, faster. The pleasure is indescribable, it makes your body tense and contract towards him.

"Oh!" you moan between sighs. "Like this!"

"Like this?" he gasps again. "Do you want it like this?"

"Yes... Yes..." you respond, your fingers gripping it tighter—. Yes!

And he doesn't say anything more. His hips keep moving that way, with quick and deep movements. His arms wrap around you, holding you against him, and your fingers clutch his shoulders. The pleasure is increasingly intense, increasingly unbearable, but his body does not stop.

Finally, his breathing quickens too much, each of his movements becomes increasingly rough, and his member begins to pulse inside you.

"God!" she screams, her breath ragged.

And everything suddenly explodes. His member hardens and begins to release his semen into a hot river. His body shakes back and forth, trying to absorb every sensation, and the pleasure makes you let go with a scream. The orgasm is strong, intense, making your fingers grip him tighter and the walls surround him.

Finally, everything disappears again. Her hips come to a stop, her breathing returns to normal, and her arms relax. Her eyes, however, continue to shine. He approaches you and kisses you on the cheek.

"Was it how you wanted it?" he whispers between your lips.

You smile mischievously again.

"Hmm… I think it was better". You slip out of his arms and start getting dressed. "The thing is, I can't have this whenever I want".

He smiles again.

"That's easy to fix" he says, while also getting dressed. I can give you as much as you want.

"I hope so". And immediately you walk away from him, leaving the bathroom without waiting to see his reaction.

"Don't worry, you won't have to wait long," you hear his words behind you, and a smile curves your lips.

#squid game smut #squid game 2 #squid game #squid games #hwang jun ho x reader #hwang jun ho #hwang jun ho x reader smut #hwang junho #hwang jun ho smut

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1d1195 · 3 days ago

Text

The Lottery V

Read The Lottery here | ~8.7k words

From me: the idea of making this two shorter parts or one long part was a very difficult decision. Hopefully you'll enjoy 💕 I think you'll see Peach and Harry again soon 🥰 you get to find out why I named it The Lottery too

Warnings: you get to find out why Harry is so grumpy so it's angsty and sad af I think. There is def some fluffy and love parts for sure!

Summary: Harry loves peaches. And Peach. She is quite possibly the most important person Harry has ever met.

*I highly recommend listening to Home Run by The Man The Myth The Meatslab*

After work, Harry ran errands. He went to the grocery store for his own house and planned on ordering take out because after working and all the errands, making a whole meal sounded horrible. As he approached the door with arms full of grocery bags, he swore he heard music playing loudly from inside.

He had to be imagining it.

But he tried the handle and was surprised (but also unsurprised) that it was unlocked. The second the door was out of the way she was in front of him. “Hi!” She cheered excitedly, grabbing two bags from his arms and turning quickly to the kitchen to bring them to the table. He stared at her, nearly unblinking as she continued stirring something on the stove. “I found this recipe that I wanted to try,” she explained. Was he dreaming? Most of his dreams involving the pretty bookstore owner and town princess were similar to this moment. Nothing really out of the ordinary except she was in his house, maybe he called it their house in his sleep. But the groceries were heavy on his arm, and he didn’t usually feel pain in the dreams.

“So y’broke into m’house?”

“You break into my house all the time.”

“Because y’leave the door unlocked. You had t’use m’key.”

She huffed. “Look.”

But there was nothing to look at. She kept watching her food cooking. Harry ignored it and put his groceries away. “Do y’need help?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I thought you were going to be home sooner. It’s almost done. I hope you didn’t have plans.”

Any plans Harry would have had would be canceled the moment he saw her. “No plans,” he assured her. “M’jus’... gonna put this stuff away,” he mumbled referring to the bathroom and cleaning items. Harry returned to her putting a plate together and setting it on the table before putting her own plate together. Then they sat and ate at his small dinner table in the middle of his kitchen. It was quiet, they didn’t speak, and she scrolled on her phone as she nibbled on her food. “Peach?” He said quietly. “Something wrong?” He asked.

“What could possibly be wrong?” But whether she realized it or not, she was holding the little moon charm between her fingers, rubbing her thumb along it like it would fix everything.

“Peach. Shouldn’t y’be... I don’t know... out with Malcolm?”

She paused very briefly and put her phone aside before she cut into the delicious-looking fish she prepared. It was covered in a layer of crunchy breadcrumbs and spices. It was beside roasted broccoli with a sprinkle of the same breadcrumbs and spices. Along with cheesy yet somehow creamy scallop potatoes. It smelled incredible and Harry didn’t think he deserved such a nice welcome home. Especially when she was seeing someone else. “No,” she whispered quietly.

Harry wasn’t going to harp on it if she wasn’t. Especially when she looked so upset about it. “Alright,” he said simply and dug into his own delicious food. They ate silently, her scrolling on her phone, reading emails and work orders. She had her to do list notebook beside her as well and she scribbled some thoughts onto the paper. Harry grabbed his book when he got up to grab them drinks. He put more potatoes on his plate and returned to sit across from her reading silently while they ate.

Harry cleaned up while she found a TV show to watch. Something silly and easy to watch. She was snug in the corner of his sofa and Harry sat at the other end. Once he was seated, she stretched out putting her feet in his lap and throwing the blanket along the back of the couch across them. Harry dropped his hand onto her legs and mindlessly rubbed over her blanket covered body. They silently watched TV like they silently ate dinner.

She was used to long periods of silence with Harry. This time was no different. But it was. Because Harry was her very best friend and she was in love with him but couldn’t have him.

“Peach?” He asked. “You’re crying,” he murmured, concern laced in his voice.

“Fuck,” she whispered and turned her head the other way swiping at her cheeks. His grip tightened on her leg.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just... don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” he assured her quickly, squeezing his hold on her shin. “What happened?” He asked.

“It’s not like we were in love or anything,” she mumbled. “I just... I feel so underestimated all the time and so...” she swallowed. “No one in my life seems to believe in me... and not like the people in town. Everyone is so lovely for accepting me. I don’t even know why I need approval from people who I hardly see anymore or new people who hardly care about this place... but I do. I need it more than I realize, and I don’t know why. I don’t know why they don’t believe in me,” her voice was so quiet and soft.

“Then fuck them,” he squeezed her leg again. It was the only thing he could do.

She laughed, tears leaking from her eyes again, but it was an honest to God laugh. Harry hated seeing her vulnerable like that. She was amazing in every possible way. It was a tragedy that she could ever see anything but perfection. He smiled. Not quite those rare, genuine smiles that she saw in his eyes that only really appeared around Gemma or Louis. But it was gentle, warm, and made her feel like she would really be okay. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Yeah, Peach. Of course. Thank you for dinner. Y’didn’t need to do that.”

“Well, I figured if I only ever made food for you when you were sick, you would think we weren’t really friends,” she smiled.

He chuckled quietly, a huff of laughter that he covered with a shake of his head. He turned back to their show and kept his hand moving along the blanket.

“Peach?”

“Hmm?”

“Think you’re m’best friend.”

“Me too, Harry.”

If Harry wasn’t working, he would find himself at her bookshop, sitting between shelves on the floor, reading and watching her at work. Watching her during reading-hour was one of his favorite things. Watching her tutor was also a delight. But watching her read while waiting for customers behind the checkout counter was by far the best. The quiet of the moment, the beautiful, peaceful expression on her perfect face.

“You’re staring at me,” she nearly sang while flipping to the next page.

He looked back at his book.

“Now you’re blushing,” she giggled.

He put his book in front of his face to hide from her.

“Do you like it?” She asked.

“It’s cathartic,” he mumbled.

She grinned. She loved it when Harry read his books in front of her while she worked. There weren’t many ways he could reciprocate the way she sat at his counter and watched him cook breakfast and serve lunch. He was handsome and sweet. Her very best friend.

She came home to find Harry on her sofa laying across it with the clicker in hand. “Hi,” she blinked in surprise.

“I ordered pizza, s’in the kitchen,” he told her.

She nodded. “Sure,” she glanced at him curiously and walked to her bedroom to change into something cozier. The entire time she heard the TV going, which meant Harry was still there. She didn’t mind his presence. Not in the slightest. But she wasn’t used to seeing him laying on her couch like he lived there. He was usually fixing something or making dinner. This was peaceful and gentle. She went to the kitchen next, grabbed the pizza and headed to the living room again. She curled in the chair turned toward the sofa and TV for conversation and Harry merely continued watching TV as if this wasn’t a crazy moment.

“Everything alright?” She asked.

“Mmm,” he hummed.

“So, it’s okay when you break into my house?”

His lips twitched in his signature smirk, and he shrugged one shoulder. She nodded, biting into her pizza and turned her attention to her TV.

They traded off randomly appearing in each other’s homes. But it didn’t take a genius to recognize she wasn’t in his house when she was seeing another guy. Harry still visited her at work but when she talked about the guy she was seeing, he tried to keep his distance at her home to a minimum. It wasn’t fair to her to make that choice and if she was going to be in love she deserved to be in love with someone that wasn’t so grumpy and irritated with the town she loved so much.

But she still came to the diner and even introduced a few of the men in her life to Harry. She convinced Harry to help each Christmas and had him make hot dogs and hamburgers for cookouts in the summer. During the fall he provided hot apple cider per her request and helped her decorate the outside of the bookstore. In the winter he checked on her pipes and after her washing machine broke, he went with her to purchase a new one to make sure they didn’t try to swindle her of more money just because she was sweet and pretty. He even installed it himself.

But one day she came home to get ready for her date with Bodie. She liked him a lot. He was kind, funny, and intelligent. He worked hard and appreciated her love for the small town.

However, instead of heading to her bedroom to change and do her hair and makeup, she found Harry on her sofa. Which was weird as she had noticed the pattern of him staying away from her house when she was in a relationship. “Hey,” she frowned. “You okay, Harry?” She asked.

“Yeah,” his voice was quiet. He was turned toward the back of the couch. “Are y’busy tonight?”

She frowned. “Um... not till later. What’s wrong?”

“Jus’... wanted t’see you,” he mumbled. “Feel like I haven’t seen y’much.”

Did he sniffle? Her heart was going to break. She set her stuff in the middle of the floor and approached him like he was a wild animal. Not because she worried about her safety or that he would attack her. But because Harry was grumpy and angry. He was short and hardly smiled.

Harry was never vulnerable and that terrified her. If he cried, she was done for. Quietly, she sat on the coffee table facing him and watching for signs of trouble or something worse. “Yeah... sorry about that. I’ve been a bit busier than usual lately.” He didn’t respond, just stared at the back of the couch. She reached out. “Harry—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said quickly, his voice shook, and it felt like a knife to her heart. Quickly, she dropped her hand to her lap. After a moment, she nodded, and he turned to lie on his back. He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed heavily. “I shouldn’t have come over,” he said. “I don’t mean t’bother you,” he pulled his hand away and she noted how red his eyes looked. Like he had been crying and so that knife in her heart turned into an entire sword.

“Course you should have, Harry. That’s what friends are for,” she promised.

“Y’have plans,” he mumbled.

She shook her head. “My only plan right now is to be here for you, Harry,” she assured him. “Move your head.” He sat up. She quickly got herself situated at the end of the sofa and then pulled him gently by the shoulder to lay his head in her lap. Her hand immediately dove into his hair. This was the closest they had ever been, and she knew it wasn’t a good move for her heart or her head, but her best friend was sad. So, she couldn’t care about that.

Instead, she watched the show he put on, combed her fingers through his hair, and ignored when the tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

At some point she must have lost track of time, her leg was numb, her fingers were still curled around his soft locks. The TV show had caught her attention more than she thought. Harry was asleep, peaceful and she wished she could have pressed more. It killed her to not help him more, but he was quiet as always. Never letting her in deeper than need be. Sure, she read between the lines, but it hurt a little that he didn’t feel he could open himself up to her. But she understood. Harry was closed off for a reason and that was very okay.

The only reason she ignored the way her leg was losing circulation, and she wasn’t lost in the way his hair felt between her fingers was because of the knock at her door.

Fuck. She mouthed to herself. Slowly she untangled herself from Harry. She carefully lifted his head and placed it gently on the sofa. He turned, settling into sleep and she limped to the door with her leg nearly asleep.

“Hey, love,” Bodie smiled leaning in to peck her cheek. “You ready to go?”

She smiled softly. “I’m so sorry, I should have canceled,” she whispered. “Something’s wrong with Harry and he’s—”

The smile on his face immediately disappeared. “Oh, for the love of God,” he rolled his eyes.

The frown on her face settled and she tilted her head. “What?”

“It’s just... you talk about Harry all the time. He’s your best friend, I get it. But don’t you understand how difficult it is to think about you with another man?”

She bit her lip and looked at her feet. “We’re just friends.”

“I understand, but are you going to put him first forever? Everything you do revolves around this place, the diner, your bookstore. Don’t you want to live?”

She frowned. “I think you should go,” she whispered without looking up.

“Yeah. I was thinking the same thing,” he sighed and headed back to his car. She watched him leave, her heart aching, but it wasn’t hard to notice that it didn’t ache nearly as much as Harry’s sadness made her feel.

When she closed the door, she found Harry sitting on the sofa. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey,” he murmured. “Sorry, I fell asleep.”

She shrugged, sat on the chair. But she missed the way his head felt on her leg and how his hair felt between her fingers. “It’s okay.”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “What are y’doing here, Peach?” He asked.

“I live here,” she laughed.

“Peach,” he sighed. “Here. In this town. Y’could be running a company, or... mayor of an actual town. Y’would probably be making more money in a city with a bigger house that didn’t have bad pipes even after y’replaced them.”

“Well... that’s not—”

“He was right,” Harry interrupted making her chest hurt again. The sword turned into a harpoon. “Don’t y’want t’live, Peach? There’s no living here. S’nearly the same thing all the time.”

She swallowed. “Harry,” she frowned.

“I’ve been here m’whole life and s’not...” he rubbed his hands over his face. “You’re too good for this place.” She felt tears prick her eyes. The heartache about Harry’s sadness, Bodie’s uncalled for breakup (even if she wasn’t upset about the breakup), and now... “Stop, I didn’t mean t’make y’cry,” he said hurriedly. “Fuck. Don’t listen t’me. M’jus’...” he shook his head. “M’fucking sad and m’taking it out on you. After y’were so nice t’me and I ruined your date and—”

She smiled, her heart aching a little less. “I’m glad you did,” she sniffled. “I guess—”

“Peach.”

“—I guess I just never liked the city, and I just wanted the feel of being known and not—”

“Peach.”

“—and not just some random person that no one would ever really know because it’s too big out there. There is so much and I’m not—”

“Peach,” Harry’s voice was soft, and he pulled her toward him and cupped the back of her head as he pulled her into his chest. His chin resting on top of her head and he sighed. “M’sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t want you t’go anywhere,” he promised.

She clung to him and nodded. There was nothing else to say.

For all the guys she brought around, Harry never brought a single girl around and she could never figure out why. But she never asked. She assumed if he didn’t want to tell her, then he didn’t want to talk about it. So instead, she asked him for pancakes that he didn’t want to make. Ordered pizza and only went over to his house when she wasn’t in a relationship.

He smacked her hand when she reached for sugar and cream. He rolled his eyes when she left her stuff on the counter for hours at a time. When she needed help stocking the shelves he was there. When she shoveled the driveways of everyone in town so did he. He hung up her Christmas lights and made sure she had hot chocolate on cold days.

She made him soup when he didn’t feel well. Made sure she stocked books that were cathartic. Helped serve at the diner when it was busy. And most importantly didn’t tell anyone he was dressed as Santa each year.

“Can I have a white chocolate chip pancake and a peach pancake?”

“No.”

“Please, please, please, please!”

“No.”

“Did you see the moon?”

“Yes, Peach, s’very pretty today.”

“Do you know how to change a lighting fixture?”

“I’ll come over later.”

Whenever he returned from the kitchen with pancakes, there was always a peach pancake hiding the one white chocolate chip below it.

“Muffin today?”

“Please.”

“Did you rotate your tires?”

“Every time I drive.”

“I need some new shirts, could y’go with me?”

“Is this so you can take my car to the shop?”

“Yes.”

“I would love to.”

And so, it went on.

Then there was Alex.

No one liked him. They tolerated him for her benefit. There was honestly nothing wrong with him. He was a lot like Bodie. Smart, funny, kind. He had his own business in the city. He supported her. Appreciated her kindness for the small town and like her business. He was also handsome if you were into that sort of thing (which Harry begrudgingly accepted). He didn’t feel threatened by Harry and thought that the idea of settling in a small town was going to be great for family life.

Which was probably why they had been dating for a year. There was sincerely nothing wrong with him.

Except he was not Harry, and everyone in town noticed that for sure.

Alice had no trouble telling Harry that.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Alice,” Ed sighed.

“Harry, we’ve been coming in here for ages and you have never looked at anyone the way you look at her.”

His lips twitched but he hid it because she was still his best friend, and he wanted her to be happy. Harry wasn’t a happy person. Perhaps he never would be. So, if she was in love with Alex, then she was in love with Alex.

And if she stopped coming to his house unannounced then he was fine with that.

Totally, completely fine with it (and he definitely didn’t need to buy a new refrigerator for opening the door so hard it broke at the hinge).

“Did you see the moon!?” There was so much delight in her eyes. Harry had heard her say it so many times, it instinctively brought a smile to his face (internally). He had never met anyone so excited about the moon even when it was out seven days a week.

Harry discreetly glanced out the picture window of the diner and caught a glimpse of it. Alex was looking at his phone while she nearly snapped her neck to get a better view of it.

“Honey, seriously! It’s so pretty today, and you can see Venus next to it and it’s just so lovely,” she sighed and got up grabbing his arm. But he nearly paid no mind to her.

“Alex, look—”

“Oh my god. I don’t want to look at the moon! It’s the same moon I’ve seen for years. I don’t care.”

She swallowed the words in her throat. She took a deep breath and returned to her seat. Not at the counter. Quietly, she poked at her food and sipped her tea. Harry thought her eyes looked shiny. The whole diner heard it. Harry felt the smile (internally) fall off his face.

How could he hurt her like that? He wanted to kill him. It was much too quiet and uncomfortable. Clearing her throat, she started with small talk. Things she was going to do that day, errands she needed to run.

The entire time, her fingers danced along the charm around her neck.

Hey

Hi...

Everything alright?

Yeah, why?

You don’t usually text me. Unless you want to tell me I’m not allowed to leave my stuff at the counter even though I’m coming back later.

He sent an eye roll emoji. It was hard to be nice to her when she was annoying. But not really.

Yeah... fine. Just...

I was taking the trash out behind the diner... and...

The moon looks really pretty tonight. Have you seen it?

Her heart softened reading the message. She knew what he was doing even if he was trying to be sly about it. But she loved the moon. She stretched in her hammock to look between branches of the trees she was sitting below. Yeah, she had seen the moon already. It was all she could look at tonight. But when Harry said it, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell him she already saw it. Not ever.

Oh! Yes, I hadn’t seen it yet. Look at that :)

Hope you’re relaxing. You deserve it. Night, Peach.

Night, Harry. Sleep well ❤️

There was something about looking at the same moon Harry was at that moment. Sharing something that they weren’t even in the same room for. But maybe, mostly because he had remembered how much it meant to her when no one else did.

Harry continued to message her about the moon every time he saw it over the next few months.

He took a screenshot of that sweet message she sent with the little heart emoji. He wanted to frame it and put it in the diner.

Maybe one day he would.

Harry entered his place, and it smelled like baked goods. But to his knowledge they hadn’t broken up. In fact, she hinted that wedding bells were in her future, (so Harry now needed a new stove because the oven door faced the same fate as his refrigerator).

He also wasn’t sick. So, she wasn’t making soup for him. There was no holiday or festival in sight, so she didn’t need help. It wasn’t winter so her pipes probably weren’t broken. So why was she there? Baking in his house? “Peach?” He called.

“Did you move the flour?”

“The cabinet on the right.”

“I’m making cookies for the kids—”

“Peach.”

“—they have their big exams coming up—”

“Peach.”

“I saw this recipe and thought I would give it a try.

“Peach.”

“I thought I had everything, but I always forget something.”

“Peach. Why aren’t y’with Alex?”

She stopped, gripping the side of the counter in front of the sink. She looked at the ceiling. “Because I need my best friend,” her voice cracked, and she sniffled before she wiped her arm across her nose. She shook her head and turned the sink on to wash her hands again.

Harry nodded to himself. Not knowing what was happening but couldn’t bring himself to care. He put his hand on her back briefly and she sniffled again as he grabbed the flour for her. He settled it on the counter and turned her toward him and cupped the back of her head the way he did when Bodie broke up with her. He rubbed his hand up and down her spine while she sobbed into his shirt. The ache he felt for her sadness made him want to cry himself.

He kissed the top of her head. “M’sorry, Peach,” he whispered.

She continued crying for a while. Her hands covering her face as she leaned into Harry’s embrace enjoying the feel of him cradling her like she was something precious. “Did y’see the moon, Peach?” He hummed quietly.

She shook her head. “It’s a new moon today,” she told him.

He snorted. “S’what I get for trying t’help.”

She laughed through her tears making him smile. Perhaps it was because they were in the privacy of his home, and he was heartbroken by her sadness.

But his smile was real and stretched across his face for anyone to see.

Even if it was just the sweet girl in his arms.

Harry didn’t ask any more questions about why she needed him. They baked cookies in silence and Harry made her dinner because it had been a long while since they had a dinner in his place. He made her favorite pasta dish and packaged it up so she could take it home when she ate no more than five bites of it.

Instead, they watched TV in silence. Seated on two different pieces of furniture and he glanced at her way too often assuring himself that she was okay when she didn’t seem to be at all. Eventually, he noted her eyes were shut, her neck awkwardly turned and slumped against the corner of the sofa.

Carefully, he took her shoes off. Brought her feet onto the couch turning her ever so gently because he didn’t want to wake her. He made sure the remote was within reach on the coffee table. Then he covered her with a blanket.

He would be up before her for the early morning breakfast, so he left her a note to come get her silly pancakes. Or her weird omelets if she wanted them. He would even throw in a muffin to go, and her coffee would be cold just the way she liked.

Then Harry went to bed with the sweet bookstore owner on his couch.

They didn’t talk about the night before. Harry didn’t smack her hand away from the cream and sugar but only because she didn’t reach. When she only ate two bites of her pancakes, he packaged them up for her to take home. They didn’t speak and Harry didn’t read her little to-do list.

“Have a good day, Harry,” she murmured getting up from her seat.

“Peach?” He asked.

She looked up at him, her fingers touching the moon charm once more. His eyes flicked to the movement and then back to her eyes. Saddened, exhausted. God, was that what Harry looked like? No wonder she was constantly trying to make him better.

But she couldn’t look that way. No. She was perfect. Pretty and lovely. Intelligent and kind. She couldn’t get grumpy the way Harry had. “New moons symbolize new beginnings.”

She smiled, it hardly reached her eyes, but it was better than the flat expression across her face. Her cheeks glowed a little brighter, her eyes a little less sad. “Yeah,” she nodded. “They do.”

“So... every twenty-nine and a half days... y’can start over if y’have to. If y’need to.”

She nodded again and smirked. “Twenty-nine and a half? Did you do some research?” She laughed from the doorway.

“Something like that.”

What Harry hadn’t anticipated was her coming back for dinner. He assumed with all the leftovers she would be happy at home. Her dose of her grumpy friend no longer necessary. Perhaps she would call Bailey, who was arguably a much better person to assist her in relationship troubles. Or even Louis would have been a better call. At least that may have ended in some laughs at Harry’s expense.

But instead, she was back at the diner. Sitting at the counter as if it were the morning.

Harry headed back to the grill to get plates of food and returned to find Alex sitting beside her. She faced forward. No food in front of her, just her eyes focusing on the pots of coffee that were empty—waiting to be refilled for the morning.

“I didn't mean for it to happen. But when I look at her, my bones ache, love. I want you to have that. I want you to have a love like that. But you won't have it with me,” he told her.

She continued staring at the back wall behind the counter. Swallowing hard. Trying to ignore him. He pleaded with her. Only to make himself feel better for breaking her heart, Harry was sure. For stringing her along. How could she love so hard and not have someone love her back? She won’t ever forgive him. She can’t do it anymore. It’s not fair.

“Alex, just go,” She closed her eyes, and her voice felt weak. She was exhausted. It was plain on her face. She didn’t want to talk anymore. Especially not to Alex.

“Honey...”

“No.” Her voice was just a hair stronger than it was a moment before.

“Please just let me—"

“I really need you to leave,” her words were shaky. Cracking on every other syllable. She squeezed her eyes closed tighter. Like she could make the image of him breaking up with her in front of everybody go away. This was a dream. She was going to wake up any minute. But the pain was a lot. It felt like someone had ripped her tired, broken heart out of her chest.

“I don’t want you to think—"

Without warning, she slammed her fist on the counter gathering the attention of everyone in the diner. “I need you to leave,” her voice was so quiet. So different than the shake she just gave the counter, let alone the entire diner. Harry felt horrible. So completely horrible.

With a long look, Alex stared at her before leaving without so much as another word of apology.

Without truly realizing, Harry had followed him outside after the unending silence.

"Hey!” Harry had never confronted one of her boyfriends before. Not the one that told her she ate too many pancakes. Not the one that told her that her bookstore wouldn’t survive in a small place like this. Not the guy that told her she looked better when she styled her hair on special occasions. Or even Bodie who thought she was more than this town and even if that was true, he could have supported her anyway.

But this one... this one that just stopped loving her. Because of someone else. As if someone else could possibly compare to the most beautiful, kindest, most intelligent person he had ever met.

Alex turned around and sighed, rubbed a hand over his face. "Harry, I didn't mean to—"

"You jus’ lost the lottery,” he interrupted. His heart was pounding, and it felt separate from his brain. Like he is all too aware that his heart shouldn’t beat that fast nor be beating so hard for the girl that was heartbroken at the counter. But he couldn’t figure out why he chose today to confront Alex... and even his own feelings.

There was a deafening silence as he processed Harry’s words. "One in a billion. No. One in eight billion." Harry didn't move, just stared at him. "And you're throwing her away," he shook his head slowly. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and sighed, defeat falling over his posture.

"I'm sorry,” Alex said. “But I couldn’t... we all deserve happiness,” he promised. “Even idiots like me.”

Harry had nothing else to say to him, so he returned inside. People were staring at her silently as they pecked at their plates of food. Individually, Harry headed to each table and quietly requested that every one of them leave.

Food’s on the house.

I think she needs a minute alone.

Please, just go quietly.

Once everyone was outside, he left a crate in front of the door for empty dishes for people to finish and return once they left. Harry flipped the open sign to close. He headed to the kitchen and whipped up the fastest batch of pancakes he had ever made: one peach and one white chocolate chip.

“I wish someone loved me that much,” she whispered to no one.

Harry came from the back and set the two pancakes in front of her. He met her teary gaze with his.

“Eat your pancakes.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Peach,” his voice was gentle but still very firm. “Eat them, please,” he repeated.

She picked up her fork and drowned the plate in syrup. Harry wondered why she didn’t just drink it straight from the bottle. Mum was insistent that food would cure anything. A cold. a broken leg.

A broken heart.

She had tears rolling down her cheeks as she ate but Harry ignored it. “Never had a peach and white chocolate chip pancake before.”

She sniffled. “Yeah?”

He smirked. “Been making them for you for so many years. But no... Never.”

She smirked through her tears. “Figured you were eating them back there to keep your ratios on par,” she cut a piece of each one off and held her fork out to him. He took the bite enjoying the little piece of her that existed in her favorite breakfast. It was delicious. He could see why she would want one of each.

He chuckled around the bite. “Gave up on worrying ‘bout the ratios,” he shrugged.

“How come?”

“Y’eat them enough t’save the ratio in spades.” Harry felt like he won the lottery just by hearing her laugh; especially when she probably didn’t want to. “Do y’want t’watch a film?”

She nodded. Harry picked up her plate and let her lead down the hall. He flicked the lights off to the diner as they walked back to his little apartment home. She fit in the room so easily. Quickly, she made her spot on the sofa, Harry sat close beside her. Harry didn’t pay any mind to the movie he picked. In a matter of minutes, she was drowsy. The movie was nearly irrelevant because she was nearly asleep half a dozen times throughout the movie.

“Did y’fall asleep?” There was a smile in his voice when he asked the first time.

“No,” she mumbled.

“Peach... y’fall asleep?” She muttered a quiet no, again. She could still hear the movie. But the third time, she was simply too tired, physically and emotionally to respond. “Kitten, are y’awake?” She couldn’t speak to even register he called her something new. She was too tired. She simply continued listening to the movie playing and Harry asking her if she was asleep.

“My mum died out of nowhere,” he told her. It felt like someone punched her in the stomach. “It broke me. Broke me t’pieces,” his voice was nostalgic. “I was twenty almost twenty-one. She didn’t even see me graduate.” She should have told him she was awake. He didn’t want him to spill his secrets to her if she was awake. That much was clear in the way he asked the last two times. “Gemma had been stuck here t’see the aftermath of everything. I needed t’finish school even though I didn’t want to. She tried so hard t’keep this place afloat, but she didn’t like cooking, and she didn’t know how t’run a business. I didn’t want t’come home. It broke me all over again. Because I was already weary. Didn’t want t’relive the hometown heartbreak I suffered. This girl I dated from town. She wanted nothing t’do with this place, but I loved this town so much, Peach. I loved it like you do. So maybe s’on me. Because she said she wasn’t going t’stay and it broke m’heart. It broke m’entire plan t’stay here. I hated it here. I hated that it wasn’t enough for her. For us.”

This wasn’t right. Listening to him when he was sharing something personal that he clearly didn’t want to tell...but she was in too deep now. “M’plan turned t’helping Mum find people t’run the diner for her and then move away. Find m’own footing. That had been the plan since I started college. And then Mum...” he sighed and paused. She wondered if he could hear how fast her heart was beating. “I graduated. I cried. I drank.”

Her heart hurt. “I thought maybe I’ll jus’ burn the place down. If Mum’s not here, what’s the point?” His voice was so quiet. “Gemma was heartbroken. She was there when it happened, and she couldn’t stay. Didn’t want t’stay and how could I let her? She was holding everything together. She’s a superhero m’sister,” he whispered so quietly. “She didn’t know what t’do. But she knew she wasn’t any help. She told me it was okay t’sell it. T’move away. T’escape the heartache.”

She tried to think of this little town without the diner. Without Harry. It would be missing something. She was sure. But staying here, the ghost of a girl who was clearly just not good enough for his sweet heart and the ghost of his mother and the family that had to leave because it was too much, she understood. Of course he wanted to leave. How could anyone blame him? “I had a realtor. I had a buyer. A lawyer. I had it all. It was only days away from turning into something and I jus’ had this horrible breakdown before I opened,” he reminisced, his voice was far away. She heard him swallow audibly. His voice cracked. “I was sobbing on the floor over a dozen broken eggs.” The sound of the movie was gone. She couldn’t hear anything but Harry and his soft breathing. Her stomach hurt at the thought of his distress and wanted to make it go away retroactively. If only she had a time machine. If only she could have known him and done something. If only his mom was still there. “I begged Mum for a sign. I wanted her approval. Afraid I wasn’t doing the right thing. Afraid she would hate me for running.”

Of course she wouldn’t have. Harry was... Harry. No one could hate him. Especially not his mother. “I think everyone kinda knew it was coming. Even though I didn’t tell them. I was going t’tell them that day, actually. That I was selling and moving and... the diner would be no more. End of a chapter. End of a life. End of a story.”

She could hardly take how sad it all was. No wonder he was grumpy. She couldn’t figure out why he was telling her. She inhaled a little deeper, ready to tell him she was actually awake and that of course his mother wouldn’t hate him. Never. Not even from wherever her soul was out in—

“But then this insanely intelligent, beautiful girl sat at m’counter. Asked for one peach and one white chocolate chip pancake. Told me the ratios didn’t matter. That she would like t’open a tab.”

She swore her heart stopped. Time stopped. Everything stopped.

“Y’can’t have a tab if there was no diner,” he said simply, a shrug in his voice.

Like it was that simple. That in asking for a tab erased all that heartache. How different her life in this little place would have been without Harry through the years. She couldn’t imagine it. Her best friend just not there. Who would dress as Santa? Or help her rake leaves in the fall? How would she set off the fireworks?

“I didn’t think I would ever be happy again and y’jus’...” there was a quiet pause that seemed to last for hours. Harry’s voice sounded wistful. Like he was remembering every moment since she moved. “Y’were opening a bookshop and y’moved into a house with bad pipes. I didn’t want you t’be stuck in the dead of winter with no hot water,” he continued. “Y’jus’ wanted pancakes and cold coffee, and I didn’t want t’be the one t’stop y’from getting whatever you wanted. Peach, y’love this town like y’grew up here. Y’take care of everyone and everything. Y’are endlessly kind and wonderful and the most annoying person I’ve ever known. Y’love the moon when all anyone can talk about is how nice and warm the sun is. You are everything I wanted and all y’did was waltz into m’diner on one of the worst days of m’life.”

There was no way Harry couldn’t hear her heartrate flying. It felt like a hundred dragonflies were trapped in her ribcage begging to get out. “M’nearly certain I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you. The moment I met you and made you your ridiculous pancakes and all those omelets. M’never going t’stop loving you. No matter how many stupid men you date that don’t know that you’re the best thing that’s ever graced this town, this world, and especially my life.”

The sound of the movie seemed to come back as Harry stopped speaking for a bit of time. The movie filled the silence instead of his words and she felt like she might need to cry again. For several moments she kept quiet, trying to calm her heart. When she felt a sufficient amount of time had passed, she reached up to rub her eye with an exaggerated yawn. “Fell asleep again,” she sniffed turning to Harry. He was smiling at her with a little nod in the way he always did. A smile that didn’t spread across his face, but it was in his eyes.

“I know,” he whispered very softly.

“Sorry. Can we watch the movie another day?” He nodded again, still gazing at her. “Are you okay?” She asked.

“Should be asking you that.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “I think I’m okay.”

“Y’sure?” He asked. “I... I wanted t’kill him. T’be honest.”

She shook her head. “He’s not worth it.”

“No? Thought y’wanted to marry him.”

“He...” she sighed. “He doesn’t like the smalltown life after all,” she shrugged then looked at Harry with a smile. “He doesn’t care about the moon.”

He grinned ever so gently at her. Not quite those secret smiles that he hid from everyone, but it was more than his signature twitch of the lips. “Yeah?”

“I can’t be with someone that doesn’t care about the moon.”

He felt his cheeks warm and was glad the room was dark aside from the glow of the TV. “I never really thought ‘bout the moon until y’rolled into town.”

“No?”

“M’more of a sunrise guy with the diner.”

She smiled. “I like the sun too.”

“The moon is better. Y’can stare at it without hurting y’eyes.”

She giggled. “That’s true.”

“I think ‘bout y’every time I see the moon,” he murmured.

She was closer to him than she ever had been even when he held her the night before and kissed the top of her head. She could feel his breath on her face, and she loved his eyes so much. They were so pretty. “What about when the moon is gone?”

“I think ‘bout the moon in the middle of the day, as soon as I wake up, and as the sun sets.”

She doesn’t know why it was then. Why she didn’t know...how she didn’t know. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. The way he looked at her. The way he always looked at her. Harry was her best friend, and she never thought he loved her beyond that. She thought he only barely tolerated her as a friend. But the look on his face...

“Oh,” she managed. Breathless, her heart pounded. Harry didn’t date. Harry didn’t... love... right? Harry didn’t really love her, did he?

But he did. He told her (albeit, what he thought was her sleeping body). So, she wasn’t supposed to know that. Not really. Maybe he was just saying it because he felt bad for her and how upset she was. But he shook his head and smiled—really, really smiled.

“Peach, y’have m’whole heart,” he shrugged one shoulder as if this wasn’t the biggest deal in the entire world. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said simply. “M’not going anywhere.”

She woke up and it was still pitch-black out. With a glance at the clock on her bedside table she found it was only four thirty and she was so awake. Even Harry wouldn’t be awake yet. She didn’t feel sad about Alex. Why was she crying about him yesterday anyway? He wasn’t Harry. He wasn’t someone who anticipated things she needed done and offered to do them before she knew it. Harry thought about her like she was an extension of him, which is exactly how she thought about him. He showed up when she least expected it but he was there.

Her fingers skimmed the moon charm on her necklace. Something she couldn’t stop wearing if her life depended on it. The thought of losing it made her nauseous. It was so comforting to have a piece of Harry with her all the time. How could she think she could marry someone that wasn't him?

Was it too soon? Maybe. But it was a long time coming. Had been for so many years. Harry was hers. Maybe whether he wanted to be or not. Because she loved him from the moment that she met him, and she couldn’t have imagined a more perfect person than him.

Hard pass. You need a nice bubbly guy like you.

Harry wasn’t bubbly. But he was nice, and he was more than perfect.

Suddenly, she was out the door running. Running through the quiet, sleeping town. Did she close her door? Maybe Edith or David would do it for her. She barely stopped when she got to the front of the diner. Harry wasn’t down yet—of course he wasn’t, it wasn’t even five—so she knocked on the door rapidly; peering through the glass waiting for the most perfect man she knew to appear. She could have used the key, but this was important, and Harry needed to open the door.

After what seemed like eternity, Harry came from the back: hurried, no shoes, and still in his sweatpants.

“Peach, what are y’doing? I hate when y’come here this early when s’dark out. On foot. What if someone snuck up and kidnapped you?”

“Oh my God, Harry. Shut up about being kidnapped. Everyone in town knows me.”

He snorted. “S’not good t’run in the near dark—Fine, whatever. Peach, what’s wro—”

She pulled his face to hers and kissed him. For so many years she dreamed of his lips. How soft they would feel, how nice they would feel. It felt electric. He tasted like toothpaste and summer. His skin was warm, and he loved her.

Harry reached down and cupped the back of her thighs, pulling her legs around his hips. She looped her arms around his neck, clinging to him wishing she could get closer somehow. He closed the door to the diner and fiddled with the signs. Opening late. She imagined the sign was being placed in front of the closed sign. Harry kept one arm beneath her butt, supporting her against him as he walked across the diner and placed her on the same stool she sat on each morning.

He brought his hands to her face, sliding his fingers through her hair, his thumbs skimming across her cheeks as he kissed her again. Her mouth was so warm.

“I could hear you talking last night,” she whispered against his skin as his lips moved to her jaw. "During the movie." She had to tell him the truth about some things. Many things. Some things she hadn’t thought about in ages. Some were still fresh. If this was going to work, she needed Harry to know everything.

“I know y’could, Peach,” he hummed quietly and moved across her collarbone, pausing to kiss the moon charm around the chain. His lips started their ascent up the other side of her throat. Her skin felt hot, tingly from head to toe. "Wanted you t'hear."

Her heart ached a little less. “Is this too soon?” She asked.

He shook his head. “Feels like s’been too long,” his kisses worked up the side of her face, skimming every inch of her like he was going to draw her face with kisses on a canvas and he was measuring what that would look like with an outline.

“Harry,” she whispered, shivering slightly. He didn’t respond as his lips were at the top of her head, kissing her hair line. “I’ve... I’ve known your mom passed away... since I moved in. Alice told me the first week I was here.”

Harry paused his kisses. He drew back to look her in the eye. There was a pucker of confusion between his eyebrows, and he looked at her like he had never seen her before. “Y’never said anything,” it wasn’t accusatory. It wasn’t mad. It wasn’t sad. A statement. That’s all he said.

“You clearly didn’t want to talk about it.”

His heart swelled. “Y’never... treated me differently.”

“I never asked about your mom, Harry. You didn’t notice?”

Well, now it seemed so obvious. “No,” he mumbled.

She smiled weakly. “You weren’t ready to tell me.”

“Y’didn’t look at me with pity.”

She shrugged. “You did that in spades.”

He smirked and rubbed his thumb on her lip before he took it between his again. “S’much as I want t’make more memories on this seat, s’going t’get light soon,” he pecked her lips and scooped her back up. There would be someone walking their dog and they would peer in and see something they shouldn’t. “But ‘ve wanted t’kiss y’in this seat for ages,” he assured her. He gripped behind her thighs again rewrapping them around his hips and lifting her into his arms again. He kissed her the entire way down the hall to his little home behind the diner that made his heart hurt for so many years. Now it was filled with peaches. So many sweet memories to take away the hurt.

“Harry,” she whimpered as he nipped at her skin.

“Y’taste so sweet, Peach,” he mumbled into her mouth. She shivered, making Harry squeeze her tighter. Then she smiled against his lips. Her fingers tangled in the back of his hair. She ground her hips against him in a needy fashion that she never imagined she’d ever get to do to him. He groaned softly into her neck kissing a path across her collarbone again. “Easy Peach,” he hummed. “M’pretty... starved for attention.”

She huffed a breath of laughter. “You can have all my attention,” she promised. “I’m not going anywhere, Harry Styles,” she pulled his face back so she could read his eyes. “Ever. I’m going to die on that stool in your diner eating peach and white chocolate chip pancakes when I’m a hundred years old.”

He smiled. That genuine, gorgeous smile that she loved so much but he kept so hidden. “Perfect,” he whispered and captured her lips in his again.

“I’m glad it was a new moon,” she whispered.

“Me too, Peach,” he laid her gently on his bed, stripped his T-shirt over his head. “I needed a new beginning.”

“Hey Harry?” She whispered.

“Hmm?” He pulled his sweatpants off next. Leaning to get them off his legs which left him in the perfect position to kiss the length of her leg, starting with her ankle and working his way up to her hip.

“I love you too. In case it wasn’t obvious at this point.”

He stopped, looked up at her, peering into her eyes like he was going to gaze at her for eternity. “Peach,” he said simply. “I’ll never stop loving you.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissinthekitchen @boopookie @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @mads3502

@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden @me-undiscovered @you-sunshine

@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo @inlikea-coolway @theseaview @lunaharrygurl

@emmie2308 @fruity-harry @somebunnybaby @avas-queen-black @mema10

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #grumpy!harry x sunshine!reader #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #love at first sight!harry #the lottery

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kaliforniahigh · 2 days ago

Text

maybe you want her, maybe you need her - n.s.

4 times Noah slept with you and 1 time he realized he was falling in love.

Warnings: the expression "slept with" is used loosely in this fic, talks of past experiences, Noah is a little nervous at first, smut (unprotected p in v, oral male receiving, fingering, mutual masturbation) a little bit of dirty talk and realization of feelings.

WC: 3.3k

Requests are closed for now / Click here to be added to the permanent tag list <3

The first Noah slept with you was experimental.

You had just agreed on a friends with benefits relationship a few days ago. He was having a conversation with you on his couch, the guys out there on the back patio grilling some burgers and drinking some beer.

Somehow, the conversation took a turn into the topic of relationships, and Noah expressed to you how he only seemed to find girls looking for a serious relationship. He was young and with a whole career ahead of him, not wanting to settle down with only one person yet.

And you expressed how you only seemed to find uninteresting and rude guys. How you never felt comfortable bringing these people into your home, or even going to their house. And that you weren't looking for a comitted relationship either, and these men only seemed to want a woman to be their housewife.

Then, Noah went into a interesting topic. Casual sex.

He mentioned that he never trusted people enough to have just nice, casual sex with them. He always had this doubt lurking in his head that in the next morning, a picture of him in a compromising position was going to surface on the internet.

You giggled a little at this idea, but completely understood his worries.

You, on the other hand, mentioned how difficult it was to find a guy who was even half decent in bed. Most of them only caring about their pleasure, and just left you unsatisfied while they put on their clothes and left, promising to call to arrange another date.

You blocked their numbers as soon as they left.

As the conversation progressed, you could sense that the same idea was lurking in your and his mind. The more you spoke, the more it sounded like you were the perfect person for each other.

It didn't hurt that Noah was probably the most attractive man you knew. And he's caught himself having dirty thoughts about you more than once.

So, you left his house that day with an arrangement. When you needed someone to satisfy your needs, you would give each other a call.

Turns out, it wasn't exactly a call, but a spur of the moment thing.

Jolly had called you over to help him out with something on his guitar. You knew they were starting to brainstorm ideas for a new album, and being a guitar enthusiast yourself, you participated from time to time.

You ended up staying for the whole afternoon, laughing and playing some tunes, trying to create something that would even resemble a song.

By the time the clock approached 6 PM, everyone was starting to leave. You put your things together, but hanged by the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water. You could hear Noah in the living room bidding everyone goodbye.

Noah entered the kitchen and saw you leaning against the counter, bringing the glass of water to your lips.

"Hmm", se hesitated a little bit, not really sure how to do this. He didn't want to be too straightforward and say things like "Hey, wanna fuck?", but he also couldn't lie and say he hasn't been thinking about you ever since that day. "I was thinking if maybe you'd wanna go up to my room?", he asked instead.

You thought it was adorable how nervous he was about this. A little smiled graced your lips.

"Yeah, sure", you agreed, setting the empty cup down. "Lead the way"

You followed after him as he opened the door to his room. You noticed the place was clean and tidy, and you remembered him saying he was a bit of a clean freak. You stood there, in the middle of his room and watched as he closed the door behind him and turned to face you.

The atmosphere turned a little awkward, and you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. In the years you've known him, things have never felt like this. But the knowledge that you were here so you both could have sex undoubtedly shifted things.

"You can kiss me, you know?", you broke the silence, tilting your head to the side, appraising his reaction. He took a couple of steps closer.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm nervous", he laughed a little and you smiled with him.

'It's ok", you reassured.

He looked at you with the eyes that always held your complete attention anytime they were on you, and you felt his hand take yours, prompting you to get closer to him, until you were standing toe to toe. Slowly, his other hand went up your arm, slightly brushing over your shoulder and finally rested on the back of your neck.

He was soft as he brought his lips forward to rest on top of yours, the kiss tentative at first, but as soon as you gripped the sides of his shirt, it became more urgent.

You took a few steps back and he went with you, lips never separating, until you fell backwards on the bed, and he climbed on top of you.

That night, you found out that Noah was the most attentive partner you've ever been with. He took his time getting to know your body and the things you liked, and he never seemed to be in a hurry to finish soon.

You found yourself blushing everytime you let out a particularly loud moan and he asked "Feels good, angel?", and you couldn't find the words to answer that yes, it does feel really good.

Noah, on the other hand, was trying to cope with the feeling of your fingers tangled in his hair, and the weight of your body on top of his as you rode him until the two of you reached your highs. He observed as you threw your head back, and he wanted to litter your neck and chest with hickeys, but thought that he might take it too far if he did as he wanted.

He got himself dressed along with you and followed you down the stairs, watching you gather your things to leave. He opened the door for you and bid you goodbye and observed as you got in your car to leave.

He stood there for a few seconds after you had already left, thinking about how much he wanted to call you tomorrow and do this all over again.

The second time Noah slept with you was the first time you had his dick down your throat.

It was in a random bathroom, in a party he didn't care about, in a house he didn't even know who it belonged to. But his friends invited him, and he decided to go.

Right now, as he felt your soft and velvety mouth wrapped around his shaft, he was sure it was the best decision he's ever made in his entire life.

"Fuck, that feels so fucking good", he groaned, throwing his head back and hitting it against the wall with a light thud. One of his hands was resting on the back of your head, but not really pushing, leaving it up to you how much of him you wanted to take.

Taking him out of your mouth, he watched as a string of saliva connected his tip to your plush lips, and he almost let himself go right then and there.

He arched his hips forward at the feeling of your delicate hand stroking him up and down.

"Wanna cum in my mouth?", you asked, with an absolute sinful look on your face, as you looked up at him from your position kneeling on the floor. He wanted to take a mental picture of how you looked in this moment.

"Yeah, baby. You gonna swallow everything?", he took advantage of your half open mouth and slipped a digit inside, your warm mouth wrapping around it and sucking his thumb as you hummed in response to his question.

Your hand worked along with your mouth to bring him to the edge, and he could feel himself falling faster and faster as the seconds ticked by.

It was when you took him slightly deeper and he felt his tip hitting the back of your throat that he knew he would cum very soon.

"Keep going, I'm gonna cum", his voice was tight and you looked up to see the veins on his neck straining, a pretty blush covering his chest and neck. Your hands ran up his abdomen, nails scrathing his skin and you felt his muscles go taut underneath your palms. Seconds later he spilled himself down your throat in warm and quick spurts.

"Fucking look at you", he grabbed you by the chin. "Such a good girl, taking all of my cum", he spread a little drop you let escape all over your lips.

You smiled at him. He was absolutely fucked.

The next time Noah slept with you, things got a little dirty.

He had you on his lap, on his couch, two knuckles deep inside your pussy, as you shook on top of him.

"I fucking love your fingers inside of me", you told him, eyes closed and hips shifting a little to get him to go faster.

"That right, baby?", he answered, lips finding your neck and sucking little kisses, feeling the faint taste of your sweat that lingered on your heated skin. "Just getting this pretty cunt ready for my cock", he said, picking up the pace of his fingers, the squelching sound of your wetness making his dick strain against the confines of his sweatpants.

You noticed the lustful look on his face, and your hands moved on their on accord, as you slipped your fingers under the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down enough to take his dick out, and start stroking him up and down. He would tell you to be patient and wait, but he couldn't deny a handjob from you even if he wanted to.

"Fuuuck", he let out a low growl at the feeling. "That's not fucking fair, baby"

"Why not?", you had a fake innocent look on your face, but you knew exactly what you were doing.

"Wanted you to make a mess on my fingers before slipping inside you", he tried to be as clear as possible, but your hands were making it difficult for him to concentrate.

"Yeah?", you leaned closer to him, lips ghosting over his ear. "How about I cum on your fingers and then all over your cock?", you said, and looked to the side to get his reaction.

"Fuck, you're such a dirty girl", he smiled and captured your lips on his.

After a few more pumps of his long fingers, you could feel the knot in your stomach wanting to unravel. Noah could tell, since your walls started to clench around him. The feeling of your warmth and wetness engulfing his fingers were enough to make him spill his release all over his stomach, covering your hand in his cum.

You weren't far behind him, the warm and fuzzy feeling spreading all over your insides, as you shook above him, ultimately gushing all over his fingers and legs. His fingers kept their rhythm until you were too sensitive to take it anymore.

Your head rested over his chest, not caring about the sticky mess between you.

"Fuck, I didn't know you could do that", he observed, admiration all over his voice.

"I didn't know I could do that either", you answered, honestly.

You couldn't see it, but he had a stupid grin on his face. He was the first guy to make you squirt.

The next time Noah slept with you, it was on your bed.

"How do you want it, baby?", he asked you, not giving you much time to recover after he just made you cum on his mouth.

You didn't utter a word, instead, you got on your hands and knees in front of him, lifting your ass up in the air.

Usually, Noah liked to look at your face when he fucked you, but the thought of having you from behind made his head dizzy. Taking your plush ass in his hands, he kneaded the flesh before delivering a harsh slap to your ass cheek, making you jump slightly and whimper in the mattress below you.

"Gonna slip it in, ok?", he muttered above you, leaning down a little so you could hear his words clearly. He always got your reassurance before he started to fuck you, and that turned you on even more.

The feeling of his dick slipping inside of you little by little always made your eyes roll to the back of your head, and mouth hang open in pleasure. There was nothing like that first push.

Once he was shethed inside of you, you wiggled your ass a little just to tease him a little bit. And it worked, as it always does.

"Don't fucking do that", he hissed through his teeth, gripping your flesh harder. You tried to hide your smile from him, but failed.

Every time Noah slipped inside of you, he had to steel himself as to not cum within the first two pumps. He didn't know how it happened, but you had him in a chokehold, and no sex has ever felt like this.

He closed his eyes and looked up, trying to concentrate as he started to move back and forth. Soon, your moans filled the room, and your hands gripped the sheets crumpled beneath you.

Noah grabbed one of your hands and brought them to rest on your back, slipping his fingers in yours and intertwining them. But, soon, the contact wasn't enough for him anymore. His skin felt cold and he needed to feel the blazing heat of you on him.

"C'mere", he muttered, leaning down and hooking his arm on your neck and pulled you up on a kneeling position on the bed, back resting against his chest.

His hand roamed up and took a handful of your breast. You could feel his hot breath on your neck, and the feeling of him slipping in and out multiplied by tenfold.

The feeling of your quickened pulse under his palm, as Noah placed his hand over your neck, made all the filter between his brain and mouth disappear.

"No one feels as good as you do, baby", he whispered in your ear. "Love having you all pliant and fucked out like this"

You whimpered his name, because you too, loved having him pounding you into oblivion.

Your hands reached back to grasp his hair, tugging like your life depended on it. "Make me cum", you told him, looking back to lock your eyes with his.

"You wanna cum?", he asked, a hint of teasing in his voice. "Then tell me who this pussy belongs to, baby", he inquired and gripped your neck harder.

"It belongs to you", you whispered, with no hesitation.

"Say my name", he inquired again.

Your head was spinning, and you were going to cum from his words alone.

"It belongs to you, Noah", you said, and his hands detached from your neck, and started to rub circles on your clit.

Your breath hitched and your eyes closed shut as you came with a cry of his name, shaking and relying on him keep you up, because your body felt like mush all of a sudden.

+1:

Noah replayed the last time in his head over and over again. He felt like he said too much, but then he remembered you never commented on it, and he didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing.

Since then, he's been hesitant to call you, to invite you over or ask if the could come over to your place. And he could tell you noticed it.

His texts have been shorter and fewer than usual, and you had to double text him sometimes to get a response from him. He felt bad, but he didn't know how to approach the feelings blooming in his chest. And he also didn't want to lose what you had.

The thing is, he started to feel like what you had wasn't enough anymore.

By the end of the first week of him being weird with you, you decided to show up at his house to talk to him. You knew Noah, and you knew that if you never approached the subject, he was never gonna talk about it.

Besides, you felt silly for saying what you said the last time you were together. It was clearly only some dirty talk to get you going, but the words falling from his lips felt so true at the time, that you couldn't help but agree with them.

And at the end of the day, they were true. Because you haven't thought about fucking someone else ever since you started this agreement. You didn't even want to.

You pondered over what you were going to say to him as you knocked on his door. You knew he was home, because his car was in the driveway.

He opened the door and greeted you with a hesitant 'hello".

"I think we need to talk", you told him, cutting right to the chase.

Noah felt like a million needles were piercing his heart. He had fucked up. He had fucked up and now you were standing on his doorstep, ready to end it all.

He nooded and stepped aside to let you in. You didn't sit on the couch, you were too anxious to even try and stay still.

You waited until he was right in front of you to start talking.

"Do you wanna end this?", you blurted out, watching as his eyes widened a bit at your inquiry. "Because if you want to, it's totally ok. I just don't want us to get weird with each other, you know? We can still be friends even if you don't want to...", he had to stop your word vomit.

"I don't wanna end this", he stated, quieting the flurry of words coming from your mouth.

"Then why have you been so distant?", you wondered. And watched him go silent for a moment. "Is it something I did? Is it what I said last time?"

"Fuck, no", he turned to look at you. "You did nothing wrong. It was me who shouldn't have said anything to begin with"

"So, you didn't mean it?", you asked, voice quiet this time, as if afraid of his answer. "You didn't mean it when you asked me if I belonged to you?"

"I didn't mean to put you in a uncomfortable situation"

"I meant it", you voiced. "I meant it when I said I belonged to you"

You watched as his expression changed to one of slight shock, and silence fell over the two of you like a weighted blanked.

"Noah, say something, please?", you inquired.

A little laugh fell from his lips, head shaking in incredulity.

"I thought I had fucked up, you know?", he looked at you. "I thought you'd definetely get scared and run away. And here you are, telling me you meant when you said you belonged to me"

"I haven't thought about anyone else ever since we started this", you confessed, and he took a few steps closer to you, taking your face in his hands.

"You've been plaguing my thoughts ever since that first time in my bedroom, baby", he stroked you cheeks lightly with his thumb. "I don't think I want to be with anyone else, and that scared the shit out of me"

"That's good. Because I don't want to be with anyone else either", you mumbled into his lips, smiling and feeling him smiled aling with you.

Maybe you failed at this friends with benefits thing, and maybe you'd have to figure out where to go from here. But the thought of having each other as you navigated this road of newfound feelings, made you feel like you could have everything with him if you wanted.

And Noah was sure he would give you everything if you asked him to.

Tag list: @concreteangel92 @foliosgirl @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @stardustsirenmelody @concretejunglefm @fadingangelwisp @dontwantthemoney @tosoundlessdarkistare @babygirlchuuya @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @lacy1986 @romanreigns-supreme @xmads-omensx @missduffsblog @rumoured-whispers @thisbicc @badomensgoodomens @floatingkiwi @collective-heartbreak @dontwantthemoney @dream-machine-love @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @amelia-acero @montgomery-929496 @stardustsirenmelody @triedbimsoblu333 @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @noyaisasimp @w0manof-flesh44 @geminigirlfromfinland @zozaline @deardelirium @turn-your-life-into-folklore @dominuslunae @shelbyrlxoxo @super-btstrash-posts @shayzillaaaa @wordskeeper @enemiestolovershoe @haehihello @anameunmusical @blade-dressed-in-red @jilliemiw86 @vinyardmauro @ohheykayyyxo @chey-h

Tumblr is not letting me tag some blogs, I don't know why. Sorry :(

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens imagine #bad omens smut #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian imagine #noah sebastian smut #bad omens fluff #noah sebastian fluff #noah thoughts

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airaatsu · 3 days ago

Note

Hiii, I really loved your first fic!!! I was wondering if you could do another threesome request with se-mi again and dae-ho this time 🙈. my absolute faves

Could be with se-mi and reader already being a thing but her gf has a crush on cute little dae-ho. Flirting and teasing him throughout the games while se-mi watches her gf get what she wants.

Dae ho finally gets the pretty girl but doesn’t realize he has to share until he hears her whimper for her pretty gf to join them ;)

«—Se-mi x F!Reader x Dae-ho—»

⁍Sharing is Caring⁌

Summary: Se-mi notices how her girlfriend currently has a crush on Dae-ho. Instead of getting mad and jealous as you suspected she would, she encourages you to hang out with him. Things take a turn and the two of them end up sharing you. Dae-ho and Se-mi reaches an agreement. Se-mi loves seeing her girlfriend get everything she wants, after all, it's what you deserve;)

A/N: This request was in my inbox for like, 2 days? 😭 I'm sorry this took so long😭😭🏃‍♀️💨 Anyway, hope you guys would enjoy this‼️ I'll be working on another fic later, pray I won't get writer's block🥲 (I SUCK AT SUMMARIES🤕)

Warnings: NSFW, p in v, creampie, fingerfucking, handjob, SMUTTTTT

Se-mi leaned against one of the metal beds. Her gaze lingering on you a bit longer, watching you stare at someone from that man, Gi-hun's group. She continued to stare at you before she let out a sigh, when you didn't seem to notice, she sat down next to you and let out another louder sigh.

"What is it?" You murmured, sitting up straight as you faced her. "What do you mean." Se-mi looked away, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. "You've been sighing since earlier. What is it?"

"I don't know. Why were you staring so much at that guy." She questioned, glancing at the group you were staring at earlier. A small pout forming on her lips. You peeked at them over your shoulder before looking back Se-mi, raising a questioning brow at her. "Are you jealous?" You teased, smirking as you poked at her sides.

"No I'm not." She shot you a glare before her gaze softened, grabbing your hands to stop them from poking her. "Why don't you just talk to him? That guy- Dae-ho or whatever his name is." She stood. "Se-mi.. you're not mad?" You asked, stuffing your hands in your pockets. She scoffed,"Mad? Why would I be." She replied, flicking her finger on your nose. You giggled, playfully pushing her. "Maybe because we're in a relationship? And I'm having a crush on someone?" You stood up. Wrapping your arm around hers.

"I'm not mad at you, babe.. besides, I'm quite good at sharing." Se-mi leaned closer, placing a kiss on the corner of your lips before pulling back. "If you really want him, go for it. I don't mind sharing my princess, and it's better with him than those.." She glanced at the purple haired man across the room from them, with that friend of his that was also a drug addict. "Assholes.."

"What do you think, babe?" Se-mi smirked, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. You smiled, shaking your head. "Of course! Thank you!" You pulled her in a hug, peppering kisses on her face. Causing her to laugh at your sudden display of affection. "Alright, alright. Now go get pretty boy." She sighs, nudging you back into the direction of the group Dae-ho is in.

You and Dae-ho hit it off quite well. Perfect, really. He was such a cutie, a gentleman too. The way he blushed when you would tease and flirt with him even during the games was simply too adorable for you. The way he would look away and pull up the zipper of his jacket, causing the fabric to ride up and hide the lower half of his face whenever you teased him made you giggle. Right now, you were sitting beside him wuth his teammates. You listened to them talk and plan for the next game, but you couldn't help your attention being drawn to someone from across the room. Turning your head, you lock eyes with your girlfriend. Se-mi has been keeping her eyes on you ever since you approached Dae-ho. Watching the both of you converse, how your hand would linger on his arm a bit too long for it to be friendly. But she wasn't jealous, no, Se-mi could never be jealous because of that. Instead, she was enjoying the scene. It filled her with pride seeing how her princess could literally pull anyone without even trying much. The way Dae-ho looked at you was already a clear sign that you've already won his heart over with just a few touch and your sweet words. Whenever you giggled or laugh, Se-mi could see Dae-ho's eyes soften and a smile forming on his lips. Who could help it though? You're beautiful, she could see that, anyone and everyone could see that.

You didn't even know how you got here. Well, maybe you did.. making up an excuse to the guard and managing to sneak into the bathroom with Dae-ho in tow was something you thought would never happen. You were just going to tease him more, flirt with him, some subtle touches here and there. You never thought things would get too heated. But then it did. So here you are now, bent over one of the sinks. You're arms could barely hold yourself together, head dangling between your shoulders as Dae-ho's hips snapped against your own. The sound of skin slapping skin echoed in the empty bathroom save for you two. His left hand snaked from your hips to your neck, his hand wrapped around it, but he made sure it didn't hurt nor suffocate you. He pulled your head back gently, making you look at yourself in the mirror. Making you looked at your fucked out face, remnants of tear stains could be seen on your cheeks. You whimpered out his name, feeling his cock throb and twitch inside you. Dae-ho groaned into the nape of your neck, biting down on the sensitive skin, hard enough to leave a mark, but not enough to break skin. He gave your warm, gushing cunt one last sloppy thrust before you felt hot, thick liquid filling you up. Moaning out his name as you came around his cock, a white ring forming on the base of his dick while he continued to thrust in and out of you slowly, helping you come down from your high. He didn't even seem to notice the bathroom door open and close, not until you whimpered out a name.

"..Se-mi..!" You whimpered, your legs trembled, you would've collapsed on the floor if it wasn't for Dae-ho holding you by your hips. Keeping you steady. "Se-mi? Who.. why is she here?" Dae-ho whispered, glancing between you and at the newcomer. Confusion written all over his face. "Hm, you seem to be enjoying yourself, baby." Se-mi smiled, walking over to the two of you. She raised her hand, taking ahold of your chin, tilting it up a bit so you could look at her properly. "You can't even look at me properly, did pretty boy here fuck you that good?" She teased, using her thumb to wipe away the remnants of your tears on your cheeks. "What's happening here?" Dae-ho sounded super confused. His hips still connected to yours.

"Oh, did princess here not tell you?" Se-mi tore her eyes away from you and lands it on the man. "Tell me what?" Dae-ho questioned.

"That you're gonna have to share her." She replied, placing a kiss on the corner of your lips. "Like I shared her to you."

All three of your jackets were now laid on the floor. With you laying on your back on the fabrics. You moaned into Se-mi's mouth, legs wrapped around her hips, her fingers stuffed inside your cunt, Dae-ho's cum oozing out of your tight heat while she pumped her fingers in snd out of you, her thumb flicking over your oversensitive clit. Making your melt under her touch. Meanwhile, Dae-ho was thrusting into your fist. The two of them seemed to have reached an agreement, that the two of them shared you.

"Come on, baby, you can give me one more, hm?" Se-mi whispered so sweetly into your ear,"Pretty boy here looks close too, seems like your hand just feels that good." She smirked, burying her face into the crook of your neck. Nibbling and kissing your neck, leaving subtle marks on the sensitive skin. You didn't last much longer, not with how Dae-ho fucked you earlier, and now with Se-mi.. you were just too sensitive. You came around Se-mi's fingers, making a mess on her hand. Dae-hi didn't last much longer as well, that much you can tell, his cock twitched, spurting out ropes of warm cum on your face.

Now you were an absolute mess.. but you know you love it.

#airaa.writes #squid game x reader #se mi x reader #dae ho x reader #wlw #squid game 2

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doumadono · 14 hours ago

Text

Warnings: smut w/o plot, doggy style, creampie, blowjob, rough s*x

Summary: you and Bakugo went camping, and you couldn’t believe your new shorts were enough to turn the big guy on so quickly

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

As the golden hues of dusk began to settle over the campsite, the thrill of a shared adventure coursed through your body, amplified by the excitement that Katsuki, your usually so gruff boyfriend, had agreed to this escapade into the wild.

It wasn't his idea of a perfect getaway, but the hint of adventure and the rugged trails appealed to his untamed spirit, and that was enough to tilt his decision.

Preparations for the trip unfolded over several days. You meticulously selected a new tent, sleeping bags, and all the essentials needed for survival in the embrace of nature. The excitement bubbled within you, and each item was a promise of the memories you were about to create together.

Upon arrival at the campground, a place chosen for its variety of trails, Bakugo’s eyes - those intense, crimson orbs - surveyed the land with a tactical gaze, as if plotting each step he would conquer on the morrow.

You began setting up the tent, fumbling slightly with the steel profiles. "Kats, could you help me with these?" you asked, trying not to get distracted by his scrutinizing look.

With a gruff nod, Bakugo joined you, his hands adept and sure as he assisted with the tent. "Why don't you start on the fire?" he suggested, his tone brusque but not unkind. "Seems like something you can handle, babe."

You set about gathering dry wood, arranging stones in a careful circle to cradle the fledgling flames you would soon coax to life.

When Bakugo watched you light the fire with practiced ease, a rare smile broke across his face. "Well, well, look at you. I'm starting to think you're a pro at this," he remarked, the rough pad of his thumb brushing a smudge of dirt from your cheek as he approached you.

His compliment warmed you more than the fire, and soon you were searching through your backpack for marshmallows, a sweet treat to end the day. "Hungry?" you asked, glancing back at him.

Bakugo's eyes lingered on you, particularly drawn to the curve of your hips and ass accentuated by your new shorts. “I like your new shorts,” he commented casually, completely skipping the question you asked.

Your cheeks heated under his gaze, and you turned to face him fully. "Do you? They're just material shorts."

"Which hug your ass so nicely," he growled softly, his hand finding its way to your lower back and pulling you closer.

You gasped, turning fully to face him, arms looping around his neck as he lifted you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his hips for stability. "Did my shorts turn you on that much, babe?" you teased, feeling his breath against your ear.

His only response was a husky, affirmative grunt as he carried you towards the tent.

Soon, you lay back on the sleeping bag, Bakugo hovering above, his lips tracing a path along your neck. His hands slipped under your t-shirt, discovering with a pleased murmur that you weren’t wearing anything underneath. "Aren't you being a naughty little shit today?" His voice was rough with arousal.

"You know I like it when you put me in my place," you murmured back, rolling your hips against his, your hands deftly working to remove his clothes.

Bakugo responded with equal fervor, his movements urgent as he shed his layers.

Overwhelmed by a primal urge, you found yourself driven by raw desire, pushing him off yourself and kneeling between his spread thighs. Your tongue darted out, tracing fervent circles around the swollen tip of his penis, the taste of the faint bitterness of your boyfriend’s arousal causing you to moan in delight.

Katsuki began to guide the rhythm, his hips gently grinding forward. The motion coaxed your lips apart, accommodating him fully as he nudged against the welcoming gate of your throat. With each advance, you adjusted, your throat opening to invite him deeper, your initial gag reflex swiftly giving way to a consuming need to take him all in. The feel of his throbbing length, coupled with your swirling tongue, sent vibrations along his shaft, and Katsuki rolled his head back.

You yanked one leg around his one leg to improve your position and started grinding your slick pussy against his knee.

“Fuck, yeah,” the man growled. The sensation was nearly unbearable. Known for his fiery temperament and fierce control, here he was, surrendering to the pleasure you elicited with your little expert ministrations. His pace quickened. The sensation of sliding in and out of your snuggly throat, the slick, rhythmic tightness you provided, pushed him to the edge.

The build-up was intense, his body tightening, a crescendo of raw energy that demanded release. With a guttural cry, he reached the brink. Bakugo’s release was rich, a surge of warmth that he felt from the base of his spine to the tip of his cock while his creamy essence spilled forth in a rush of exhilarating release, filling your mouth and dripping from its corners to your naked neckline.

With a swift motion, he yanked your head off him by your hair and pushed you flat against the sleeping bag. He knelt behind you, spanked your ass a few times, and cupped your cheeks, spreading them to watch your gaping hole, slick with your juices. “Such a whore you are,” Bakugo mused, and aligned himself with your entrance, and the world fell away as he entered you with a single powerful thrust. His presence inside you was overwhelming, a perfect fit that stretched you deliciously.

Your breath caught in your throat, the sensation overwhelming. "Katsuki..." you gasped, your fingers digging into the sleeping bag.

He set a rhythm, each thrust deeper than the last, his groans mixing with your gasps. "I love fucking my sexy girl raw," he confessed, his voice barely above a growl as his hips pistoned in yours. His rock hard cock plunged deep into you with a relentless rhythm.

You met each of his thrusts with an eager push back, your vaginal muscles clenching around his cock in a delicious squeeze that drew a low groan from his lips. Each movement you made was synchronized with his, a dance of desire that had you both teetering on the edge of ecstasy. You played with the limits of sensation, allowing the tip of his dick to nearly escape your snuggly pussy before sliding back down, pressing your ass against his abdomen tightly. Your hips gave a gentle, teasing twerk, enhancing the friction and intensifying the pleasure that thrummed through every nerve of his.

Each powerful thrust forced a sharp gasp from your lips, his rhythm unabating, as if he were carving his desire into your very being. His movements weren't just fervent - they were meticulously measured to break down every barrier you possessed. Each retreat was only a brief prelude to another overwhelming advance, sending ripples through you. The slick, warm precum trickled out of your abused, swollen pussy whenever he pushed back.

Each thrust stole the breath from your lungs, reducing your voice to ragged gasps and involuntary whimpers, as you were rendered pliant under his commanding touch, your body moving with his like a leaf caught in a storm.

“Fuck yeah, just like that, I’m gonna cream your sweet cunt, bitch,” Bakugo's voice was a husky growl, vibrating through the dense air of the tent. His hand landed with a resounding smack against your ass, the sting blooming across your skin.

His words were crude but thrilling, spoken with the certainty of a man on the brink of conquering, his every word as impactful as his movements, promising a culmination that would leave you both shattered.

When the climax overtook you, it was with a shout of his name, your world bursting into a kaleidoscope of sensation. Even as waves of pleasure overwhelmed you, a part of your mind remained acutely aware, sensing the potent surges of Katsuki's climax deep within your abused pussy. You discovered muscles you never knew you had - working on your boyfriend’s cock, pulsing, squeezing and milking him dry.

His muscles ripped and his thrusts became sloppy. Soon, Katsuki shuddered and expelled bolts of thick, warm semen, giving you one of the best creampies you had ever had. “Take all of my seed, bitch,” the man growled, massaging the meat of your ass. “Such a good, little whore.”

After he withdrew, he once again spread your ass, observing your mixed cums leak out of your reddened, swollen entrance. A satisfied, almost wicked grin spread across his face, reflecting a raw, triumphant pleasure.

Afterward, as you both lay catching your breath, Bakugo's arm wrapped protectively around you, his voice was tender. "I love you, Y/N."

"Love you too, Kats. I think I should wear these shorts more often if this is how you react."

Bakugo’s laugh was a sound you’d treasure forever. “Just wait until I get my hands on you again. You’re mine, Y/N, and I'll show you just how wild I can get.”

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thanosscross · 1 day ago

Note

HII I REALLY LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH, i hope your willing to write about pregnant reader x thanos yk, thanos didn't know she was pregnant before they break up and then they meet up again the games and he finds out player 222 and player 333 type stuff 😭

Of course! We love this!!

Good person - Choi Su- Bong x pregnant! reader

Summary: After leaving Thanos, you encounter him again in a serious death game, only this time the stakes are lot higher

Warnings: Not much, just your usual squid game gore

A/n: Sorry it's so short! I'm going to try and start adding some length to my stories again especially my Thanos stories so stay tuned for those longer stories, trust me they are coming, they're just takin a lil time

You had told yourself whenever you signed up, you'd be as careful as possible, and that it was all for your baby, after leaving their father and being disowned for choosing to be single mother, you were left with little to nothing, so of course you took the chance to get money.

As you woke up in the giant room you soon came to regret your decision, seeing your sperm donor just a few feet in front of you, focused on the screen reading off debts "Y/n L/n, 25 million won" The guard shouted, showing you getting smacked across the face, quickly holding an arm over your stomach afterwards. Almost like he knew, as soon as your name was called out, his head snapped to yours "Senorita! You're here!?" He shouted in shock "No Way!" He shouted as he walked closer, you attempted to curl your body up away from him, but due to the six month pregnancy belly, you could only bend your legs closer to you slightly.

"Please leave, Thanos" You grunted, trying your best to keep him at a distance, for all he knew you had taken a plan B after your last hook up and that was it. Instead he just kept approaching until he was standing in front of you "What're you doing here!?" He asked excited, you just shook your head "trying to get my family and I money after my sorry excuse of a boyfriend convinced me to buy stupid ass crypto?" You said like it was obvious, it wasn't like you were entirely lying, you just didn't specify what family.

Going into red light green light, you were cocky at first, knowing you could do this easy, until the shooting started, players falling left and right, while your baby dad just skipped and danced his way to you down the field "You never answered me, Senorita" He repeated, placing his hands on your hips, terrified of what he might do, especially after watching him shove other players to win "I-I'm pregnant" You blurted, you couldn't help it, between your fear of dying by Thanos or the game was too much, you just wanted to get out of this alive, you didn't think it'd be this serious, if you did, you never would've done this. "Haha" He laughed sarcastically before looking at your face as the doll called out red light, he was in front of you now, and you were visibly shaking, Thanos using his body to try and shield you from the sensors "for real, flower?" He asked, his tone a lot more deep and raspy, you could tell he sobered up quick upon the realization you weren't joking. "I-I forgot the pill after hooked up a few months ago! a-and I left because I knew you couldn't be a responsible dad" You blurted, unable to contain your emotions as the hormones in your body were on overdrive.

Thanos was frozen, staring at you in shock before finally snapping out of it as the doll called green light, he grabbed your arm holding you behind him as he followed the others past the red line "Just stay behind me" He whispered, your words stung, how could you be so sure of how he'd be as a dad if you never gave him a chance? As you made your way back to the giant main room, you took notice to Thanos's hand on your back leading you to the bed "Sit, you don't put yourself through too much" He explained softly, helping you over to your bunks before eyeing Nam-Gyu "Give her your bed, man" he demanded, his friend stuttering before giving up and giving you his bed that was floor level, him taking your third bunk bed. "Thanos" You warned, not wanting him to make it a huge deal "What?! You're huge! You don't need to be climbing!" He shouted before catching his tone, apologizing quietly "Okay, well One, that was very very rude, two, I can do whatever I please, if I feel like I can't do something, I'll tell you" You stated poking him in the chest with your finger, he just smirked at you, biting his bottom lip slightly "Have I ever told you, it's hot whenever you yell at me" he asked, trying his best to charm you, but instead you just flicked his forehead in annoyance "Get away, freak" You replied, he just smiled at you, sitting at the foot of your bunk "So it's my baby?" He asked smiling pointing to your stomach "Well, if not I'd be concerned" You said raising your eyebrows at him "Can I..touch it?.." He asked nervously "it's not an it, it's your daughter" you glared, before grabbing his hand slipping it under your jacket, pressing his finger down in just the right spot to get the small baby inside of you to move around "Woah..weird" He said grimacing as he pulled away in disgust "Really!?" You gasped in shock laughing loudly, somehow forgetting you were in a death game for a moment "Yea! You have a whole human inside of you! That's weird!" He laughed, resting his hand on yours "You put it there, Su-bong!" You argued, you swore sometimes you got with a completely dumbass.

"Y/n..If you'll let me...I wanna be there..I don't want to be like my dad" He frowned, squeezing your hand gently "Please?" He begged "I know I fucked up bad, but, I want to try again, please" He continued, you glared at him for a moment before sighing "How can I trust you? And you'll have to get clean, for real clean, not how you're usually clean" You added on, you just watched as he nodded his head, no faces or complaints "You're actually serious aren't you?..." you asked sweetly "I want to be a good person for you, y/n, please" He whispered, pressing his lips to your knuckles "I guess..but you only get one chance" You offered, he just nodded before flopping himself next to you "Thank you!" He cheered pressing multiple kisses all over your face as he chanted his thank you's, not realizing the next 18-19 years were going to be hell for the both of you.

The rest of the games, Thanos was always on you, making sure you didn't over do yourself or risk hurting yourself or your baby, charming you right back into his arms.

Taglist!!

@acehasmyheart

@corrdelia

@ag022123

#t.o.p x reader #thanos x reader #choi su bong x reader #choi seunghyun #squid game thanos #top x reader #squid game #squidgame #thanos squid game #thanos x reader smut #choi seung hyun x reader #thanos/choi su bong #su bong x reader #t.o.p bigbang #bigbang

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megalony · 3 days ago

Text

Cast Under This Spell

This is a new Emperor Geta imagine that @missdreamofendless had an amazing idea for.

I hope you will all like it, please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix @jasmineee05

Main Masterlist

Summary: Geta wants to marry (Y/n), despite the strange spells she suffers. He vows to protect her and keep her secret safe.

(Readers 'spells' are seizures in this fic)

Enjoy.

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

The palace was calmer at night. There weren't as many people roaming the corridors, bustling about in all directions. There were no Senates vying for attention or demanding the Emperors take a look at something or settle some debate or affairs of state. The servants retired to their rooms or to the kitchens when it got dark and it made everything more peaceful.

(Y/n) didn't necessarily like the darkness, but she did like the peace that it brought, opposed to the chaos that occurred during the daylight.

She was sure that both Emperors were calmer when it was evening too, or at least that was how she perceived them. No meetings to wear Caracalla down or make his temper flare and cause arguments between him and his brother. No state affairs to drain Geta and cause him to make big decisions when he would rather be doing anything else. No agreements to oversee, no deals to sign so late at night.

The Emperors could relax, they could go about their pleasures and do as they pleased without being observed.

The thought of Geta plagued (Y/n)'s mind as she continued her descent down the corridor. She wasn't quite sure where she was going or what she was aiming to do, but a walk seemed like a better idea than wallowing alone in her room.

She was fortunate enough to reside at the palace, and that meant she got to be around both Emperors each day. Seeing Geta always brightened (Y/n)'s mood and if he happened to be in a tired or exasperated mood, talking to (Y/n) seemed to help and make him relax.

Rounding the corner, (Y/n) headed down the stairs and out onto a new hallway, lit only by two flames at least ten feet apart.

Three feet down the hallway, (Y/n) could feel a headache forming behind her eyes and igniting at the back of her head and down the base of her neck.

After another five or so feet, (Y/n)'s frame went rigid when she caught sight of a figure looming at the other end of the hall like a spectre. But closer inspection made her relax and sigh; it was Geta. She could tell by the way those broad shoulders straightened out and the gleam of gold and silver cloth donning his frame. Not to mention when he passed one of the flames, it set alight his golden hair that was brushed into neat tendrils all around his forehead and the tops of his ears.

She could barely see the golden crown nestled neatly into his hair and when he approached, (Y/n) noticed he wasn't wearing his usual make up. His face wasn't painted ghostly white and there were no dark circles painted beneath his eyes. Only thin black streaks framing his eyelids. He still looked fetching. He still looked every inch the Emperor he was, the person who made (Y/n)'s heart come close to giving out whenever he was around her.

"Out so late, and all alone?" Geta's voice didn't quite match the smile that glistened on his lips. His smile was darker than the soft tone of his voice, but it made (Y/n)'s knees quake all the same.

The very person who had been at the forefront of her mind was now standing before her.

"I could ask you the same thing, my Emperor." It never felt right to say his name, despite how close they were and how he was always asking her to be informal and use his name. (Y/n) was brought up to be formal, to be polite and this was the Emperor, no less. The highest authority in Rome, someone who could end her life on a whim if he so desired. Formality was a necessity.

"I was on my way back to my chambers, you're very welcome to join me."

The sly smile on his face made (Y/n) grin and bow her head. Somehow, she was sure that Geta knew she wasn't going anywhere in particular, she was simply walking because she had been rather lonesome in her room.

Going back to the Emperor's room with him wasn't the best idea. Not when people already suspected Geta had his sights set on making (Y/n) his wife and being alone in his room with him would be improper. (Y/n) wouldn't want to do anything to ruin her reputation. It was different for Geta, no one would bat an eye who he took to his room or why. But if they saw (Y/n) going into his room, rumours would start and if she somehow did marry Geta, people would question why and if it had something to do with losing her virtue before marriage.

"After you." The smile on Geta's face was almost putting (Y/n) under a trance.

She knew she wouldn't go into his room, but she allowed herself to turn on her heels and slowly walk back the way she had come from, now with Geta by her side and his hand on her lower back. She would enjoy his company for a little while, and he clearly wanted to be around her. How could she refuse?

(Y/n) could feel her headache pulsing through her blood but it wasn't as bad when she felt Geta's hand remain on her lower back and his frame close against her side. Standing so close to his tall figure always made (Y/n) feel protected and safe. He was the Emperor, there was no safer place than being stood by his side.

Geta let his eyes cast down to glance over at (Y/n) every now and then as they walked. He liked the way she held her hands together in front of her waist like she was a bridesmaid holding a bouquet of flowers. And he liked the way her hair curled in ringlets around her ears, even with half of it still pinned to the back of her head.

He found himself becoming lost when he looked at (Y/n), sometimes he wondered if he looked at her for too long he might become lost forever.

The spell (Y/n) cast over him started to break when he watched her steps start to falter and become slower than his, causing him to hang back to let her catch up. But it was when her hand curled around his bicep like a viper's grip that Geta stopped to see what the problem.

"Everything okay?"

When the seconds ticked by and (Y/n) didn't answer him, Geta swept his gaze around the deserted hallway before he moved to stand in front of (Y/n), noticing that her hand stayed gripped around his arm as he did so.

Moving his hands, Geta carefully snaked his fingers along (Y/n)'s jaw and up until he could cup her face in his hands and tilt her head up so they were looking at one another. A deep sigh rattled past his pursed lips when he saw her pupils; they were blown wide like rock pools and her neck muscles were so tense they were popping through her skin. The subtle but noticeable shaking that seeped through (Y/n)'s system made Geta's chest stutter and his teeth sank down into his lower lip as he cast a look around the hallway.

They were still alone, no one else was walking by to witness what was happening here. Good.

She was having one of her spells.

"You're okay, I've got you." Geta lowered his arm that (Y/n) was gripping until his hand ghosted down her waist and he could grip her hip through her dress. His other hand stayed firmly against her cheek and he began swiping his thumb across her cheek to give her something to focus on.

There was nothing he could do but wait for the spell to pass, that was what (Y/n) and the healers had always told them.

Geta had never known anybody suffer the kind of spells and fits that (Y/n) had suffered through since she was ten. The healers couldn't understand why she had them and they had no name for what she was suffering. Nothing seemed to trigger her spells, they didn't happen because she fell or hurt herself or when she was scared or worked up. They just appeared out of nowhere like shooting stars racing across the sky.

Geta only knew about these spells because he had witnessed (Y/n) having one before and he had been seconds away from calling the healers until she begged him not to. (Y/n) didn't want anyone else knowing.

It hurt Geta that she had been so afraid to tell him, that she worried he thought she was cursed or some kind of omen when he thought nothing of the kind. He could see she couldn't help what was happening to her and he did anything he could to try and help her where he could. He understood (Y/n)'s desire not to have anyone else know about these spells. People could be superstitious. And cruel.

At least this kind of spell was easier to handle, if she had to suffer them, ones like these were the easier ones to handle. Ones where her body tensed and sometimes trembled, but stayed relatively motionless and came back to her control after only a few moments.

When the subtle shaking began to subside, Geta moved both hands to her arms and began gliding his hands up and down her skin to try and rouse her and keep her calm.

"I'm sorry,"

"Don't apologise for what you can't control, can you still walk?" He was fairly certain she would be fine on her feet but he knew sometimes (Y/n)'s muscles would tense and lock up or she became too disorientated to move.

"Yes, I'm okay now."

She felt unsteady on her feet but with a little ounce of courage, (Y/n) reached out beside her and curled her hands around Geta's arm to keep herself steady. She was stood so close that her chest was practically glued into his side and the way Geta smiled down at her made her knees tremble.

They proceeded at a slower pace and Geta kept his right arm curled over his chest so (Y/n) could cling to his arm. And he moved his other hand to rest over hers so he could glide his thumb up and down the back of her hand.

"Do they happen often?"

He only knew what (Y/n) had told him, what her mother and family healer knew but no one else did. Geta knew and could see why her family wanted to keep this a secret, they wanted what was best for (Y/n). They wanted her to get married and have a life here in Rome; she was the daughter of a Nobleman and could have a high-class marriage. But it would be a lot harder for her to live her life and find a good marriage if people knew of her illness and feared what she had.

"Not too often,"

Three months was the longest (Y/n) had gone without even just a small spell like the one she had just now. It felt like such a relief, such a great achievement and it surged her and her parents with hope. Maybe she would start to live without them, maybe they would be a distant condition that might taper off. That belief was something that got (Y/n) through the days, but it was also what made her mother want to start looking for betrothals.

(Y/n) was at the age to wed now and if she truly was starting to get better, her mother wanted to get her matched so her life could start properly.

"That's good."

Something ignited in Geta's chest as a smile started to form on his lips while they continued to walk at a slow pace.

He wasn't pleased just for the sake of (Y/n)'s health though. There was a more selfish reason gnawing away at him. If she was getting better, there was a chance he could have her for himself. No one else need find out about her spells. Geta was an Emperor, if he got a healer to assess (Y/n), said healer wouldn't be allowed to gossip or talk about (Y/n) to anyone else so nobody would find out.

He knew her family were aiming to find her a marriage, and Geta wanted to marry her. He was selfish enough to know her family weren't going to turn down an offer like this; an offer from the Emperor.

He would look after (Y/n), he would devote himself to her and love and adore her and he would take care of her. He would protect her from anything. And if her spells continued for the rest of her life, Geta would devote himself to caring for her and keeping her secret and making sure she was okay.

Geta was already caring for his brother, Emperor Caracalla who had syphilis that was starting to attack his brain. Geta made sure no one but the healers knew about his brother. They couldn't have the Senate finding out and try to overthrow them or overrule Caracalla and deem him unfit to rule. As long as they ruled together and had each other, they were okay.

(Y/n) would be just another person for Geta to love and protect with his life, just like his brother.

"I believe my mother wants to find a betrothal for me," (Y/n) slowly unravelled her hands from around Geta's arm and instead clasped them tightly in her lap. "I think I'm better alone, any husband would run a mile when he found out about my spells."

It was a growing fear that if she did marry some nobleman, what would he do when he found out?

Someone would have to be willing to stay with her despite the fact that she suffered these spells and not run around telling people. It would take an entirely devoted person or a very easily persuaded, docile man to marry (Y/n) and her secret.

She would be better staying a spinster and living out her days safely alone in the palace. At least alone no one would say she was possessed by the Devil or paying for her sins or that she was too ill to be a wife or a mother and bear children.

"I wouldn't."

Tears welled in (Y/n)'s eyes when she dared to look up at the Emperor beside her. His dark brown eyes were staring intently at her with a lustful but somehow soft touch to them and the way his earnest lips parted and flushed made silent tears fall from her eyes.

She turned so she was stood in front of him, her head angled to one side and a confusing sadness welling up in her eyes. She didn't deserve to be Empress, she didn't deserve the fondness and the love Geta had for her. He was the Emperor. He needed to marry someone worthy, someone who didn't have any illness like her, someone who could safely give him the heirs he so wanted to secure the throne.

(Y/n) had no idea if she could have children or not. Physically she could, but her illness could complicate things. She might not be such a welcomed Empress or loved by the people if they thought she was reclusive and gave no heir to the throne.

"Geta, I don't think-"

"You would be safe with me. I want to marry you."

A shiver crept down (Y/n)'s spine when Geta pinched her chin between his thumb and finger and turned her head so she was looking up at him despite her tears. When he tipped his forehead against hers, it was like every emotion he felt was radiating through to her.

"I am no good match for an Emperor like you. I'd be a liability and if I didn't give an heir, or a child got my illness… it wouldn't do good for you."

There was nothing (Y/n) wanted more than to be married to Geta, to the Emperor who had stolen her heart from the first moment they met. The person she felt she could be herself around, the person she loved and who clearly love dher despite her illness.

But she didn't want to be the cause of chaos for Geta. He and Caracalla were the Emperors to Rome and they were just finding their way and gaining favour with the people. They each needed to find a suitable match, they needed to find laides of higih honour above reproach who would give them heirs and a good image.

(Y/n) may give Geta a good image only until someone saw her have one of her spells or gossip started to flood the palace. And if she didn't give him an heir, or they had a child who suffered this ailment too, (Y/n) would be blamed. She didn't want to do that to Geta; to give him all of that stress and burden, no matter how much she loved him.

"You'd rather see me go mad with desire for you?"

"N-no…" That's not what (Y/n) meant, although seeing Geta grow jealous might be something worth witnessing. She wasn't saying this to hurt him, she was trying to be practical. Despite how eager her mother was to see (Y/n) get married, she would think the same worries (Y/n) was having right now.

"Then marry me. You are more than a match for me, and I would rather watch Rome burn than see you marry someone else." There was something almost threatening in Geta's words and (Y/n) found herself nodding before she could process what she was agreeing to.

How could she refuse?

The Emperor wanted to marry her. He actually loved her and he was the one who had possession over (Y/n)'s heart since the moment they met and she didn't want it back. If Geta was willing to look out for her and care for her and keep her ailment a secret then (Y/n) truly would be safe with him.

And for all she knew, she might be able to have many children with him and none of them could inherit what she had.

When Geta cupped her jaw and stole the first kiss from her lips, (Y/n) could do nothing but hook her arms around his neck and pull him closer.

She was never going to find someone to love and accept her like the man stood before her. And why enter a loveless union when someone who clearly wanted her and was willing to protect her was right here, asking to marry her?

He was Emperor, he didn't need to seek permission from anyone to marry. Maybe before he and Caracalla ascended to the throne, when their brute of a father was still alive, they would of needed to seek his permission to marry. But they were now the highest authority in Rome. They needed to ask no one for anything.

Geta could raise the subject of marriage to the Senate and seek their advice, but he didn't need their approval. And he knew without a doubt that they would see (Y/n) as a perfect match. She was someone the people would love, someone the people would take to instantly and who would bring yet more peace and power to Rome.

She was a perfect match for Geta, and he wouldn't allow anyone else to have her. Not even his brother. (Y/n) was going to be the one thing he didn't share with his twin; she wasn't like their concubines.

She was going to be Geta's and his alone.

***

"Brother- oh, am I interrupting?" The bright, rambunctous sound of Caracalla's voice combined with the way the chamber doors swung open created a rather loud echo throughout the room.

Geta found off the urge to roll his eyes when he watched his twin blunder into the room like they were children sharing sleeping quarters again. He was used to his brother wandering and barging in whenever he wanted something or whenever Caracalla was starting to feel lonely. He didn't do well alone.

It was all well and good until moments like these happened. Geta had been married a week and this counted as the third time someone had barged into their room without knocking. It being Caracalla meant that Geta wouldn't make a fuss this time. Needless to say the maid who had walked in without knocking two days ago had ran out crying.

"Don't you always?" Geta drawled while he moved one hand to brush his eyes to try and waken himself up a little more.

He kept his left arm draped over (Y/n)'s waist and dropped his head back down so his chin perched on her shoulder. He could feel her fingertips gliding up and down his arm and the way she wriggled beneath him made him cast his eyes down to her.

He couldn't resist the urge to take another kiss from her lips before he groaned and pushed up onto his knees. They had been interrupted and Caracalla wasn't likely to simply walk away now.

"We have a meeting with the council." Caracalla lolled his head to one side while he reached across to the small table near the wall and took one of the glasses to pour himself a drink. He himself wasn't exactly dressed yet, but he was awake and he wanted to make sure his brother was going to accompany him to this meeting.

"Yes, I'm aware."

(Y/n) was sure she heard Geta mutter 'help yourself' when he noticed his brother already pouring a glass of wine.

Her eyes followed Geta as he climbed off the bed, but made the effort to lean across and kiss her again. For this week that they had been married, it had been harder and harder for Geta to climb out of bed in the mornings when all he wanted to do was stay here beneath the sheets with her all day.

He was tempted, very tempted, to call off official business and stay cooped up in here with (Y/n) for the foreseeable future. But Geta knew if he did that he would be less and less likely to go back to official business.

"Aren't you getting dressed?" Geta cast a look over his bare shoulder towards his brother who was scarcely covered in his night gown that was hanging off one pale shoulder.

His brother had no make up cladding his face as of yet therefore instead of looking pasty and regal, Caracalla looked bright crimson. Bright rosy cheeks, spots of acne scattered around and dark circles beneath his eyes. Although Caracalla did look healthier today than he usually did, he seemed to be having a good day today.

Geta set about finding some clothes and began getting dressed while he listened to his brother drawl and hum something incoherent in the background. He was used to hearing his brother ramble, especially in the morning or late into the evening.

"Are you attending the meeting with us?" Caracalla tapped his short nails against the glass in his hand and angled his head towards the bed where his sister in law was laid.

He knew last week when he walked into the room unannounced, he had unintentionally made (Y/n) flustered. He wasn't sure why she was flustered around him, he wasn't a servant, they were family. The twins were always finding each other around the palace and that wasn't going to change now that Geta was married. It simply meant that Caracalla would be finding his sister in law as well as his brother.

His brows furrowed when he didn't receive a response and he turned towards the bed, wondering if his sister in law was now ignoring him.

What he saw surprised him.

Caracalla clicked his head from side to side as he slowly approached the bed and perched down on the edge with his eyes still narrowed and his lips slightly parted. He dared to reach a hand out towards (Y/n), but he wasn't sure what he was trying to do or what indeed she was doing.

"Brother?" Confusion laced through his words while his hand curled around (Y/n)'s trembling wrist. "I fear something is wrong."

There was a sense of curiosity in Caracalla's eyes as he started to glide his thumb across the back of her hand.

He had never seen anyone suffer a state like this before. He had never seen someone lay in bed with their head angled back, their chin jutting out and their body completely succumbed to trembles like this. Caracalla was sure he could see (Y/n)'s eyes moving behind her eyelids and he noticed that her fingers were curled strangely towards her palms while she lightly shuddered up and down on the bed.

Geta fixed a golden cuff to his left forearm just below his wrist and finished adding the rings to his fingers as he walked back towards the bedroom from the adjoining room.

But once he lifted his head and looked for his brother, his upper lip curled in distaste and a shiver tore down his spine. He bolted from his spot on the rug and clambered back onto the bed, kneeling in the centre of the bed beside his wife.

Not now! Not again!

She had been doing so well. Geta made (Y/n) promise to tell him any time she had a spell and she hadn't had one since that night in the halls when he asked- or rather convinced- her to marry him. He had been ignorant enough to hope and believe that maybe, just maybe, (Y/n) wouldn't suffer these spells as much as she used to anymore.

The only relief in this situation was that it was Caracalla witnessing this and not the servants or God forbid, the members of the council or the Senate. Geta would hate to have to fire members of the council if they witnessed this.

He knew what they would say. They would be the same as they would if they found out about Caracalla's illness. They would believe (Y/n) was a bad omen, that she would be no good as an Empress and they would try and persuade Geta to annul the marriage. He wouldn't have anyone thinking badly of (Y/n) or trying to tear her away from him.

She was his, now and forever. And no one was going to part her from him or say one bad word about her.

Reaching his hand out, Geta scrunched up the corner of the sheets and draped them higher over (Y/n)'s frame. Her modesty was something he would always strive to protect, and he would not share her with his brother like he had to share everything else in his life.

His right hand moved to cup the side of her neck and he began to stroke his thumb across her skin while his knees pressed up against her thigh and hip. His other hand moved to rest over the top of her thigh and he pressed down a little to stop her from writhing too much on the bed and so she didn't jolt too much or roll off the bed.

"Okay, my love." His words were hushed against her temple when he finally felt the shaking begin to lessen.

When his eyes lifted to look across at his brother, he saw the intrigue pooling in Caracalla's eyes. And he noticed the way his brother was softly gliding his hand across (Y/n)'s wrist.

Geta was rather surprised that his brother wasn't backing away in fear or screaming or rushing to call for a healer. He seemed oddly calm about this situation considering he had no former knowledge of (Y/n)'s spells and hadn't seen anything like this before.

"She's okay, just a spell." He murmured quietly when he glanced across to his brother.

"Does she have these often?"

"No. And you're not to tell anyone, brother. I mean it."

Geta reached his hand across from (Y/n)'s thigh to take hold of Caracalla's wrist. He gave his twin a stern look that he usually had to use whenever Caracalla was in one of his moods or his fits of rage. Or when his mind began to wander and he needed guidance back to reality.

He didn't want his brother to mention this in passing to anyone. Caracalla had to understand that this wasn't something to gossip about or to go calling the healers for. And he had to see that if the Senates found out, it would cause unnecessary problems.

They would hide this just the same as they kept Caracalla's own condition under wraps.

The way Caracalla nodded with a placid smile made Geta's heart leap and he watched the fondness pool in his brother's eyes as he continued to look down at his sister in law.

"She's strong, truly a wonder."

He wouldn't tell anyone. He wouldn't mention the strange illness his sister in law seemed to be suffering. Or how strong she was for enduring this.

He knew what it was like to be observed, to be watched and second guessed and murmured about behind closed doors. Caracalla didn't want that for his new sister. He didn't want her to feel excluded or strange like that. He would keep her secret to shield her. He would help to look after her.

***

Crossing one leg over the other, Geta leaned back in his chair and reached out for the glass resting on the table beside him. He could feel his back and the base of his neck clicking into place when he pushed back in the chair and tilted his head over the back of the chair.

It was a tempting thought to go wandering the halls of the palace or go and find his brother to see what he was doing. But he knew what Caracalla would most likely be doing at such an hour, and with whom he would be pent up in his room with.

When he was in moods like this, Geta didn't know what to do with himself. The council had angered him with their persistent nagging and today they had just been tiring and badgering. They had wound Geta up and now he didn't know how to rid the excess energy from his system.

When the last remnants of wine were drained from his glass, he uncrossed his legs and stooped over. His hands reached out for the paper and quill in front of him and he started to scrawl.

A tiredness washed over him while shadows cast across his face, but his lips quirked into a smile when he felt a familiar set of arms loop around his neck.

He paused and set his quill down while (Y/n)'s lips attached to the side of his neck and her chest merged over his back and shoulders. He reached a hand up to cup her wrist and he nudged his head to the left so his nose brushed along her cheek.

"Are you okay?" (Y/n) hummed softly into his neck where she felt a shiver course through his blood in response to her question.

She liked the way he started to tap his fingers against her skin and how he peppered light, delicate kisses along her cheek like he was trying to distract himself from the thoughts plaguing his mind.

"What are you up to?" It was clear that Geta was avoiding that line of conversation. He didn't want to talk about the meetings he had been in today which had riled him up, and that was okay with (Y/n). She knew what was going through his mind without him needing to say a word.

"I have a headache, I'm going to lay down." (Y/n) tightened her arms around Geta's neck to give him a squeezing hug before she moved her hand to softly cup the side of his face.

Her thumb stroked across his cheek as she turned his head a little more in her direction so she could kiss him. She could taste the remnants of wine and berries on his lips, especially when his tongue traced her lower lip and clouded her mind enough for her to momentairly forget her headache.

Once their lips parted, (Y/n) leaned her temple against his and let their noses brush while she closed her eyes and took a few moments to take deep breaths and try to clear the fog from her mind.

She felt Geta murmur "Okay?" against her lips and she managed to nod without tearing her temple away from his.

"Don't be long." She whispered, snatching another kiss from his pale lips before she unravelled her arms from his neck and stood up straight.

She was tired; the bath she had earlier had been relaxing but most likely too hot. Her head was now aching and spinning in circles and (Y/n) knew it was time to retire to bed. Although she wasn't sure she would be able to settle or relax without Geta.

It was funny how she had managed perfectly well all her life to sleep alone, with only the distant noises of her parents or servants milling about the house to serve as background noise. But now, here in the palace that was always filled with strange noises, (Y/n) slept better than ever.

She suspected it was down to the feel of Geta's arm over her waist and his frame that was always either up close or laid on top of her. Having someone beside her at night was comforting and she didn't have to worry about having a spell during the night.

(Y/n) always fretted that when she got married, her life would be full of secrets and it would be one big web waiting to be unravelled. She feared she would have spells in the night and her secret would be found out. But that didn't matter now. Before she had been worried about having spells in front of any husband she had to marry, but now she was praying to have them around Geta if they had to happen at all. Because he would keep her safe.

Geta basked in the feeling of her lips lingering against his temple before she disappeared behind him and retreated into the bedroom. While he stayed in the adjoining study, surrounded by flickering candles that matched the soft golden streaks of his hair.

As soon as she retreated, Geta felt the calmness wash away like the tide leaving the sand and he could feel his earlier annoyances fuelling him back up once again.

His hand clenched into a fist and pressed against his chin while he began to scrawl notes on the paper once again.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there. All Geta knew was that it was late, very late, by the time he began to get a headache and the candles were burning low until the wax was all but gone.

He sank back in his chair and moved his hand to cradle his temple that was raging with a headache. But his eyes opened when he heard a feeble knock on the chamber door and he cast his eyes across the room to see a maid sheepishly skulk inside.

She was familiar. Geta didn't know many of the servants by name, only those who impressed him or who had been here since he and Caracalla were but children roaming the palace.

If servants irritated or angered him they would be fired and therefore he had no need to learn their names. But he was starting to notice that (Y/n) made it her mission to learn their names. She offered them kindness without wanting anything in return, it was something Geta admired about his new wife.

"May I tidy the room, Emperor?"

With a wave of his hand, the maid scuttled inside and set about doing her work. She tried to be as quiet as the mice and rats that scuttled down the corridors.

She delicately moved papers from the floor and the chairs and set them on the end of Geta's desk. She placed some fresh cut fruits on the side table and a fresh pitcher of wine near the desk. It was always hit and miss whether Geta would allow the servants in to tidy and turn down the room. Sometimes he was in such a frightful mood that he screamed at them to leave. He used to spend the evenings with his concubines or calming down his brother, so his chamber wasn't in use.

With (Y/n) here now, it was different. Geta might dismiss the servants but he was less likely to do it with an angry manner or shout at them or threaten them. A lot of the staff were relieved when (Y/n) married the Emperor.

"Shall I turn down the bedroom, Emperor?" The maid lifted the second pitcher of wine and pointed to the bedroom. It was usual for them to set fresh wine in the bedroom and place some fruits in there. And the sheets would usually be turned down and the room tidied before the Emperor- and Empress- retired for the night.

"The Empress is sleeping. Take the wine and see if she needs anything."

"Very good, Highness." She nodded her head and walked past the desk when Geta waved his hand towards the bedroom behind him. That made her job easier.

Just as the maid neared the bedroom door, the pitcher shook in her hands and she stumbled on her back foot when a loud crash echoed off the walls and shook the marbled floor.

The maid looked wildly over her shoulder while she shifted the wine pitcher into one hand and reached out to open the door with the other. The noise came from within the bedroom. The Empress was in there; maybe she had fallen, or maybe she had knocked something over. She could have hurt herself.

She stepped one foot into the room before Geta was up on his feet, surging towards her.

His heavy hand found her shoulder and he weaved around her, pushing past the maid to get into the room. Whatever that noise was, Geta didn't like the sound of it. He had to get to (Y/n) first, in case she was in a compromising position.

His eyes cast wildly around the room in search for his wife but when he found her, his expression changed into a grimace and a growl settled deep within his chest.

"Is the Empress alright, do we need a healer?" The pitcher in the young woman's hand shook and her other hand moved to her chest as she tried to look around the Emperor who was blocking her sights. She hadn't seen the Empress. The bed was empty, the sheets were scrunched up on the bed and the pillows were distorted.

But she could still hear some kind of thrashing sound and something that sounded like a strange whimper or groan.

She looked like she wanted to step further into the room, to find the Empress and make sure she was alright. But she couldn't get far when the Emperor turned around so he was in front of her, blocking any view she had until all she could focus on was him.

The dark make up beneath his eyes that made him look haunted and gaunt. The menacing curl of his lips, the scrunch of his nose. The sharp rise of his shoulders and the way his hands were clenched at his sides. It all indicated that he was not in one of his good moods and when he was like this he could be frightening and merciless.

A quiet yet surprised squeak left the maid's lips when the Emperor suddenly gripped her by the chin. His fingers pressed bruisingly into her cheeks and he wrangled with her head until she was staring up at him, not daring to look around him and try and see what was happening.

She didn't seem to realise that the Emperor was pushing her back until she was over the threshold and back on the outside of the bedroom.

"She's fine, all she needs is me. You speak of this to anyone, and I will have your tongue. Do you understand?"

He seemed to puncture his fingers tighter into her cheeks as if to make sure she understood his warning. He would have no issues ordering a guard to cut out her tongue if she dared try and gossip about what she may or may not have witnessed tonight. Geta didn't like tongues wagging in the palace. Especially not regarding his wife or his brother.

When the maid weakly nodded, Geta let go of her chin and watched her head loll to one side. A dribble of wine spilled over the edge of the pitcher and left droplets of the grey marble floor as she scampered off, trying to cease her whimpers as she left the pitcher on the desk and fled the room.

She knew both Emperors could be cruel and merciless when they wanted to be or simply when they were bored. She didn't want to be on the wrong end of those tempers, those mood swings. She would stay quiet and pretend nothing had happened here if that was what the Emperor wanted.

Once she fled the room, Geta stormed back into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him to ensure their privacy was kept sacred.

He did not like the sight he was faced with.

(Y/n), his beautiful wife was laid contorted on the floor with her arms bound trembling to her chest and her whole body fluttering back and forth. But it was the blood pooling and froffing from her lips that made Geta pale significantly.

He fled to the side of the bed and collapsed down on his knees beside her, his wild eyes trying to take in what was happening and if she was hurt.

Geta had never witnessed a spell like this before. She had told him of these kinds, the ones where every limb became possessed of its own will, where she would tremble and jerk and writhe. Where she felt like a statue carved of marble after the spell ended and her limbs felt frozen in place.

But he had never seen one as bad as this before. And he didn't like it. Geta hated the sight of his wife's limbs spasming in all directions, the way she jerked and how her head was thrashing down on the rug.

By the looks of things, she had started to suffer a spell and had fallen from the bed. The sheets were strewn on the bed and one was tangled around her legs which Geta hastily reached across to toss to one side so she wasn't constrained and didn't hurt herself further.

With a deep breath he curled over until his chest was pressing on his bent knees and he reached his hands down to cup (Y/n)'s face. He could see her eyes shaking behind her eyelids and her breaths were raspy and bubbling from the blood welling in her mouth.

The blood momentarily confused Geta until he tried to part her lips and realised her tongue was trapped tight between her teeth. He had never known her- or anyone else- to suffer so badly like this before.

"I'm here, you're okay my love. It's all okay, come back to me." His words hushed against her temple and his thumbs glided over her cheeks as he stayed hunched over her.

It was hard to stop the tears that were threatening to spill over his eyes and Geta had a deep desire to call someone to fetch Caracalla. Having another person here might help, Caracalla had been so calm last week when (Y/n) had her other spell and he didn't seem phased. But he had been disgruntled today and there was no telling if he would be calm in this situation or if indeed this would enrage and panic him.

Geta tried to calm his own breathing while he listened to each froffing, gasping breath (Y/n) took. It sounded like she was moaning, or trying to make a sound but she couldn't say anything when her jaw was stuck tight.

"Come back to me." Hushed again and again over her temple while he moved one hand down to glide his fingertips up and down her arm to try and soothe her. Just in case she could still hear and feel him while cast under this spell. And his other hand slid beneath her neck to cup the base of her head, trying to hold her so she didn't thrash her head against the floor.

The last thing he needed was to call a healer and try to spin a tale of his wife falling out of the bed in her sleep. The healers were wise enough not to question an Emperor, but Geta didn't want to call them unless it was strictly necessary. (Y/n) didn't like healers.

Geta felt like crying when he finally felt her begin to calm down before him. Her head wasn't thrashing in his grasp as much, although he could still feel the tension in her neck like rope about to fray and snap.

Her arms stopped bashing against his thighs and her thrashing changed into a slow shaking that rattled through her body. But it was preferrable to the spasms she had been suffering.

"There's my Empress."

His hand stayed cupping the back of her neck and his thumb glided along her neck and jaw while he watched her slowly start to settle down. Her eyes were still moving behind her eyelids and whatever she tried to murmur was incoherent to Geta, but it was a good start.

Once he was sure she wasn't about to thrash or suffer another spell, he carefully eased her up off the floor so she was sitting up. He let her head loll on his shoulder and his arms moved so one was wrapped around her waist and the other slid beneath her knees.

His jaw ground tight as he lifted her up into his arms, trying to be as careful and gentle as possible. He could feel her trembling vibrating through into his system and it made his knees feel like they were about to give way.

Why did this have to happen to (Y/n), his sweet Empress?

He was careful when he pushed his knees into the bed and lowered (Y/n) down on top of the crumpled sheets that were askew in every direction, much like (Y/n)'s toussled hair.

He took the time to try and rearrange the pillows and push the sheets to one side so they wouldn't become a nuisance.

And when he straightened up, Geta hastily tore the rings from his fingers, the two gold chains from around his neck and he removed the golden crown from his hair that felt like removing a piece of him from how long he wore it each day.

He didn't bother with his robes or changing into something less bulky and heavy, he didn't have the time or the energy for that. With a heavy sigh Geta perched down on the side of the bed and reached down for her.

"Come here," He hushed while he took (Y/n)'s chin between his fingers and tilted her head towards him so he could see the damage done to her.

With a damp cloth from the bowl of water on the side table, Geta busied himself trying to clear the blood from her face. And he parted her lips with his thumb to make sure she wasn't still chomping down on her tongue that was going to be painful come sunrise.

"Geta?" (Y/n)'s voice came out as a quiet mewl along with a trickle of blood that dribbled down her chin.

She tried her best to open her eyes but it hurt to try and get her mind into focus and work out her surroundings. And her hand felt weak and tense when she tried to raise her arm until her hand flopped over Geta's wrist while he dabbed the damp cloth against her burning forehead.

"I'm here, my love."

Shivers bolted up his arm when (Y/n)'s head moved towards his voice. She wanted to be closer to him, she wanted to touch him and be soothed by his touch and his skin and she wanted to keep hearing his voice whispering in her ear.

Heeding to her silent command, Geta placed the cloth back in the bowl and moved to lay down beside her. He slid his arm beneath her neck and shoulders, helping her move slowly until she was laid on her side with her cheek resting on his chest.

She flopped her arm over Geta's waist and nuzzled her cheek into his robes, inhaling his scent that was like a calming herbal remedy.

The feeling of his fingertips gliding up and down her back and across her shoulders was comforting and when his other hand moved to clamp around the flesh of her hip, (Y/n) sighed and melted into him.

Usually after one of her worser spells like this, (Y/n) felt frightened. Afraid for the future, of people finding out and if it would happen again when she was alone and something worse were to happen to her. Not this time. All she could think this time was how safe she felt. How soothing it was to be laid with Geta and have him whispering sweet nothings into her hair.

His lips nuzzled into her hair and he peppered a flurry of kisses against the top of her head while he closed his eyes. If she wanted him to hold her until the sun rose in the sky, that was okay, he would do that. If she didn't feel well in the morning and didn't want him to leave her side, that was okay too. Geta would stay glued to her hip for as long as she needed because it would make him feel better.

He wouldn't be going to any meetings in the morning, he was already sure of that. He didn't want to let his wife out of his sights after this. He wanted her to stay right here, in his arms, where she was safe.

And (Y/n) knew as long as he was with her, she would be okay.

#imagine #emperor geta imagine #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta #emperor caracalla #geta imagine #geta x reader #gladiator imagine #gladiator movie #gladiator ii #gladiator 2

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pbaz7 · 1 day ago

Text

AGAINST THE TIDE: PART ELEVEN

paige x azzi

word count: 5.5k

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this chapter, today felt fake and life can’t be real😭. I just need to have a lil crash out and I’ll work on making the next chapter better lol. Let me know what you think please and I hope everyone has/had a great day :)

—————————————————————————

January 2023

The library wasn’t their usual hangout spot, and for good reason. The last time they’d been here, a fan had spilled Paige’s Shirley Temple all over her book in an overly enthusiastic attempt to get a picture Paige had agreed to. But Paige and Azzi had no other choice today. They’ve been “catching up” with each other quite often— in Paige’s room, in Azzi’s, and even the living room a few times—and they realized they weren’t getting anything productive done and they had a lot to do. So the library was their last resort: a public space where they really had no choice but to not touch each other.

Azzi sat across from Paige, grumbling at her math homework. "Why do I need to do math for a communications degree?" she muttered, glaring at the numbers on her paper as if they’d personally wronged her.

Paige laughed softly, reaching over to take the paper from her. “Lemme see baby.” She skimmed it, already recognizing the concepts—it was the same class she’d taken last semester. Without a word, Paige grabbed her pencil and jotted down some notes in the margins, showing Azzi an easier way to solve the problems.

Handing the paper back, Paige teased, “You’re lucky I love you or I’d charge a pretty penny.”

Azzi grinned, a soft "Thank you, baby," slipping out as she leaned back in her chair. Paige just winked, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smirk before returning her focus to her paper.

The two worked in silence, the scratch of Azzi’s pen and Paige’s typing mixed with the distant hum of whispered conversations were the only sounds between them. Azzi, always needing some kind of contact, lightly tapped her foot against Paige’s under the table. Paige didn’t look up, but a small smile tugged at her lips as she nudged Azzi’s foot back, indulging her.

They were so engrossed in their work that neither noticed someone approaching until a voice broke the quiet.

“Hi, Azzi!”

Paige looked up, her brows knitting in mild confusion at the sight of a girl she didn’t recognize. Azzi, however, smiled in recognition.

“Oh my God, hey! It’s nice to see you outside of class,” Azzi said warmly. She gestured between them. “Paige, this is Elle—she’s in a couple of my classes. Elle, this is Paige.”

Before Paige could say a polite “Nice to meet you,” Elle let out a laugh, shaking her head. “I know who she is, Az. It’s kind of hard not to know who Paige Bueckers is on this campus.”

Paige chuckled, though the comment made her cringe a little inside. She always hated when people did that. Meeting someone and knowing of them were completely different in her mind. Still, she managed a smile, keeping it light. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

Azzi quickly looked between them, having heard Paige ramble about people doing that to her more than once before. Once she realized Paige was fine she turned her attention back to Elle who was chatting about their class. Paige shifted her focus back to her paper, letting Azzi carry the conversation, her foot still brushing against Paige’s under the table as she worked.

At some point, Elle had slid into the seat next to Azzi, the two of them catching up on class and tossing around ideas for a project they had agreed to work on together after Elle asked. Paige stayed quiet, her focus seemingly glued to her laptop as she worked on her paper. But she couldn’t help noticing the way Elle leaned in a little too much, her gaze lingering on Azzi when she thought no one was looking.

Paige didn’t say anything—she wasn’t worried in the slightest. Azzi was hers, and she knew it. Still, she made a mental note of Elle’s overly enthusiastic demeanor, keeping it there for later just in case.

Eventually, their conversation faded, and the table fell into a quiet rhythm. Elle was scribbling in a notebook, Azzi flipping through her math notes, and Paige’s fingers tapped steadily on her keyboard. The library’s soft hum of whispers filled the silence between them, broken only by the occasional shuffle of papers.

It wasn’t until Paige felt a familiar brush of Azzi’s leg against hers under the table that she glanced up. Azzi was already looking at her, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Paige couldn’t help but grin back, warmth spreading through her chest.

Lifting her hand from the keyboard, Paige tapped her finger on the table three times—a silent “I love you.”

Azzi’s cheeks flushed pink, her eyes darting back down to her notes as she quickly gathered herself. She stole a glance at Elle, who seemed oblivious to the exchange, and let out a quiet breath.

Paige, clearly amused, went back to her paper, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips at getting the reaction from Azzi.

…

As the clock crept closer to the library’s closing time, Paige closed her laptop with a soft thud, stretching her arms over her head. “Alright,” she said, glancing at Azzi. “Az you almost ready, I’m done for the night.”

Azzi nodded, letting out a quiet sigh as she began organizing her notes. “Yeah, same. My brain’s fried.”

Elle looked up from her notebook, her gaze flicking between them. “Heading out already?” she asked, her tone light but with a hint of disappointment.

“Yeah,” Paige replied, sliding her notebooks into her bag. “We have an early morning practice tomorrow.”

Azzi added, “And I’m pretty sure I’ve maxed out my tolerance for math tonight.” She gestured to her notes with a dramatic groan.

Elle chuckled. “If you ever need help with it, Azzi, let me know. I know he can be tough—I’d be happy to go over things with you so we can figure it out together. Maybe make it less painful.”

Azzi shook her head, laughing softly. “Thanks, but I’m good for now. Paige already helped me out. She’s like my personal mini Isaac Newton.”

Paige laughed at the comparison, adjusting the strap of her bag. Elle’s eyes flicked toward her, curious. “Wait, you understand this professor? How?”

Paige gave a polite smile. “I took him last semester. He’s not as bad once you figure out his style.”

Elle tilted her head, intrigued. “Ah ok. Are you in communications too?”

Paige shook her head. “Nah, human development and family sciences.”

Elle blinked, her eyebrows lifting slightly. “Oh wow. I wouldn’t have guessed that. I mean… you’re so busy with basketball, I didn’t think you’d have time for something so... strenuous.”

There was a pause at her tone, but Paige’s smile didn’t drop. “I make it work,” she said simply, her tone even but firm.

Azzi, noticing the subtle tension, broke in with a grin. “She’s being modest.”

Paige gave her a look, but her lips twitched with amusement. “Don’t start big head.”

Elle laughed lightly, though her attention lingered on Paige a moment longer. “Well, that’s impressive,” she said, her tone softer now. “Good for you.”

Paige nodded. “Thanks.”

As the conversation ebbed, Elle turned her attention back to Azzi, her tone a little more animated. “By the way, I meant to tell you—your presentation last week? It was really good. Like, you made everything sound so clear and relatable. I was kind of jealous.”

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. “Thanks, but I’m pretty sure I stumbled through half of it.”

“No way,” Elle insisted. “You were amazing. Honestly, I wish I had even half your confidence when I’m up there.”

Paige watched the exchange quietly, her expression unreadable as she scrolled on her phone waiting for Azzi.

Azzi shrugged modestly. “Appreciate it, but it’s all practice. I’m a little lucky with getting the extra practice from interviews. You’ll get there though.”

As they gathered the last of their things, Elle leaned slightly toward Azzi, her voice dropping just enough to seem more personal. “Seriously, though, if you ever want to practice a presentation or go over the project, just text me. I’d love to help out—or just hang out, you know.”

Paige’s brow twitched, but she remained silent, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

Azzi smiled, brushing it off with her usual ease. “Will do. Thanks, Elle.”

As they started walking toward the exit, Elle called after them with a warm smile, her gaze lingering on Azzi. “Goodnight! Azzi, don’t forget—I’m just a text away.”

Azzi turned, waving casually. “Got it. See you in class.”

…

About a week later they found themselves back in the library. This time because Azzi needed to work on her project with Elle and the team made it a point to not have people they didn’t know that well know where their rooms were. Paige had begrudgingly agreed to tag along after Azzi made her turn off the game. Ice, who had been playing the game with Paige and someone who was always up for people-watching and a chance to bother Paige, came along too, settling next to Paige at the table.

Azzi and Elle sat on the opposite side, laptops open and papers spread out between them as they hashed out the finer details of their project. Paige had her own laptop propped up, supposedly working on a presentation, but her focus wavered as her attention drifted to the other pair.

It didn’t escape Paige how Elle seemed to hang on to every word Azzi said, nodding eagerly, her expression animated. And while Paige tried to ignore it, she couldn’t help but notice how Elle’s chair seemed to have mysteriously scooted a couple of inches closer to Azzi since they’d sat down.

A buzz from her phone interrupted her thoughts. Picking it up, Paige saw a text from Ice, who was smirking faintly next to her.

Icy ❄️: She’s eager.

Paige but back a laugh as she typed a reply.

P Boogers ⛹🏼‍♀️: So I’m not crazy?

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

Icy ❄️: If she leans in any closer, she’s falling in Azzi’s lap

Paige let out a quiet snort, her shoulders shaking slightly as she glanced up at Ice. The two exchanged amused looks before Ice added another text.

Icy ❄️: Lowkey feel like we intruding on her plans

That one made Paige laugh under her breath, though she quickly covered it with a cough, glancing down at her screen to hide her amusement.

Azzi, picking up on the movement and muffled sounds, glanced up from her notes. Her brow furrowed in curiosity as she looked between Paige and Ice. “What’s so funny?” she asked, tilting her head.

Paige gave her an innocent look, raising an eyebrow. “Nothing,” she said smoothly, but the slight twitch of her lips betrayed her.

Azzi narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced. “Mhm. Sure.”

Paige just shot her a knowing look that said, I’ll tell you later, before going back to typing on her laptop.

Meanwhile, Elle, seemingly oblivious to the exchange, leaned a little closer to Azzi, pointing at something on the screen. “So, for this part, we could either expand on the point or keep it short. What do you think?”

Azzi considered it for a moment before responding, her tone thoughtful. “I think we should keep it short. Too much detail might make it confusing.”

Elle nodded enthusiastically. “That makes sense. You’re really good at simplifying things. Honestly, I’d be lost without you right now.”

Ice and Paige exchanged another glance, Ice raising an eyebrow as if to say, See what I mean? Paige’s lips twitched in amusement, but she said nothing, focusing instead on her work.

As the day wore on, the dynamic remained the same—Elle constantly seeking Azzi’s input, Paige silently observing, and Ice sneaking occasional texts that kept Paige entertained.

The library was quieter than usual today. Paige had her glasses, that Azzi thankfully grabbed for her, perched on her nose as she typed away on her laptop with her iPad propped up silently playing an NBA game. Next to her Ice scrolled through her phone, occasionally tapping away at her own work. Azzi and Elle, were still engrossed in their project, their heads bent close together over Azzi’s laptop.

The steady rhythm of their work was interrupted when a young woman approached the table nervously. “I’m so sorry to bother you while you’re working,” she said timidly, her eyes flicking to Paige. “But could I get a picture with you?”

Paige looked up, blinking behind her glasses before offering a warm smile. “No, it’s okay. Of course.” She took off her glasses, setting them on the table, and pushed her chair back slightly to make room.

The girl quickly leaned in, snapping a selfie with Paige, her excitement clear. “Thank you so much,” she said breathlessly, clutching her phone like a treasure. “And I’m sorry for bothering you!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Paige replied easily, giving her a quick smile. “Have a good day.”

As the girl walked away, Paige casually slipped her glasses back on and resumed typing as if nothing had happened. Ice didn’t look up from her phone, and Azzi returned her attention to her laptop. Elle, however, was looking at Paige with thinly veiled curiosity.

“Isn’t that a little weird?” Elle finally asked, breaking the silence.

Paige raised an eyebrow, looking at her. “What’s weird?”

“People just… walking up to you like that,” Elle said, gesturing vaguely. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

Paige shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Not really. I’ll always make time for people who support me.”

Elle tilted her head, her curiosity not quite satisfied. “Your girlfriend doesn’t get jealous?”

At this, Paige froze, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Ice’s head snapped up, and Azzi’s shoulders stiffened slightly. A brief silence fell over the table as Paige stared at Elle, confused.

“What?” Paige asked, her tone guarded.

Elle pointed at Paige’s neck, her lips quirking into a faint smile. “Your neck. There’s, um… a lot going on there.”

Realization dawned on Paige, and hand’s moving to adjust her hoodie to cover the faint marks Azzi had left a little too high this time around. Her cheeks tinged pink, but she quickly covered it with a chuckle. “Oh. Guess she got a little overzealous,” as she shoots a brief glare at Azzi.

Azzi’s lips twitched, clearly amused, while Ice smirked knowingly, leaning back in her chair to watch the interaction unfold.

Paige cleared her throat, still adjusting her hoodie. “Why’d you assume it’s a girl?” she asked, glancing at Elle with a curious expression.

Elle shrugged, a faint grin tugging at her lips. “I don’t know. You just… give off those vibes.”

Ice snickered at this, covering her mouth with her hand as Paige shot her a quick glare. Azzi raised an eyebrow, looking more entertained than anything.

Paige chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck. “Uh, thanks, I guess?” she muttered before clearing her throat. “But, um, no, to answer your question... she doesn’t mind.”

Elle looked surprised at Paige’s admission, but her curiosity only deepened. “Really? She’s cool with random people coming up to you all the time? A lot of them probably have crushes.”

Paige’s expression softened slightly, a small smile playing at her lips. “Yeah,” she said, her voice quieter now. “She understands what it’s like.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, carrying a weight that Elle didn’t fully grasp. Azzi glanced at Paige, her features relaxing into a fond smile that she quickly masked by looking down at her notebook.

Ice, however, noticed and smirked again, biting her lip to keep from laughing. “Yeah, I bet she really understands,” Ice muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Paige to hear.

Paige shot her another quick glare but couldn’t fight the grin tugging at her lips. “Mind your business,” she mumbled, turning her focus back to her laptop.

Elle smirked slightly but didn’t press further, turning her attention to Azzi instead. “So, Azzi, are you single?”

Azzi, caught off guard, coughed slightly, shifting in her seat and simultaneously adjusting her hoodie just in case. “No, I’m not,” she said, her voice calm.

Elle blinked, visibly surprised. “Oh, wow. Really? You’ve never mentioned him before.”

Azzi’s lips quirked in a subtle smile as she corrected, “Her.” She glanced at Paige briefly before adding, “And we’re just private people.”

Paige couldn’t stop the small snicker that escaped her lips, amused by Azzi’s excuse. Without missing a beat, Azzi’s foot shot out under the table, connecting lightly with Paige’s shin. Paige bit the inside of her cheek to keep her reaction in check, keeping her gaze fixed on her laptop as if nothing had happened.

Elle tilted her head, her surprise growing at Azzi’s correction. “Oh, I didn’t know you were gay.”

Paige’s jaw immediately tightened at the comment, her fingers pausing over her keyboard. She glanced at Elle, a faint glare flickering in her eyes, but she bit her tongue, waiting to see how Azzi would respond considering Elle was her friend.

Azzi, however, remained composed, her expression calm. “Yeah, I am,” she replied simply, the edge of a confident smile playing on her lips.

Paige’s tension eased slightly at Azzi’s response, but she couldn’t resist shooting Elle one more look before returning her attention to her laptop. Under the table, Azzi’s foot lightly nudged Paige’s again, softer this time, a silent reminder to let it go. Paige exhaled, her irritation fading as she refocused on her screen knowing Azzi was fine.

Elle hesitated, clearly trying to mask her disappointment at Azzi having a girlfriend before nodding. “Oh, that’s cool. But yeah private is good. I totally get it.”

Ice barely suppressed a grin as she glanced between them, but Paige remained focused on her work, her expression unreadable. Azzi, meanwhile, busied herself with her screen, though Paige caught the faint pink tint on her ears, a detail that made her smile to herself.

The group settled back into a rhythm of quiet productivity, but Paige couldn’t help stealing occasional glances at Azzi and Elle. Azzi seemed fully absorbed in her project, her brow furrowed in that cute way Paige loves, as she scrolled through a document while Elle leaned closer than necessary, pointing something out on the screen.

She stole another glance at Azzi, who was now leaning back in her chair, looking at Elle with a little bewilderment.

“You’re sure this part makes sense?” Elle asked, her tone unusually sweet. “I feel like I’m overthinking it.”

Azzi shrugged. “It looks fine to me.”

“But what if—”

“It’s fine, Elle,” Azzi cut her off with a light laugh, leaning forward to tap the screen. “Seriously, stop stressing. This part’s solid.”

Elle relaxed a little, her shoulders dropping as she smiled back. “Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Paige’s grip on her pen tightened slightly now, growing a little tired of Elle throwing herself at her girlfriend. She exchanged another look with Ice, who snorted quietly at Paige’s irritation.

Before the tension could linger, Ice leaned forward, tapping the table with her knuckle. “Hey, Azzi, you about done? Paige and I were thinking of grabbing food after this.”

Azzi glanced at Paige, who was still focused on her laptop. “Yeah, I’m almost ready. Give me a sec.”

Elle looked between them, her smile faltering slightly. “Oh, you’re all going together?”

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. we probably don’t have an ounce of food in our rooms right now.”

“Sounds fun,” Elle said, her tone light but her eyes lingering on Azzi a moment too long.

About five minutes later Azzi zipped up her bag, organizing the last of her notes as Paige stood up from her seat. Paige’s eyes landed on Azzi’s phone sitting on the table. Remembering something the younger girl was hiding, she reached for it, her fingers unlocking it with practiced ease.

Elle looked up from her own computer, eyebrows raising slightly. She expected some sort of protest from Azzi, but none came. Azzi didn’t even glance up, completely unfazed as Paige casually scrolled through her phone.

“Hmm,” Paige muttered to herself, tilting the phone slightly away from wandering eyes before walking around the table to Azzi’s side. She stopped just behind her, holding the screen in front of Azzi. “What’s this for?”

Azzi glanced at the phone, her lips curving into a faint smile. “You weren’t supposed to see that yet.”

Paige leaned down slightly, her voice dropping into a soft whisper, just low enough that Elle couldn’t hear. “Too late now. I like it a lot, though.”

Azzi’s body instinctively leaned back into Paige as she whispered something back to her. Her movement wasn’t much—just the smallest shift—but it was enough to make her posture relax, as if her body naturally sought Paige’s presence.

Elle’s eyes flicked between the two of them watching the subtle exchange, her brows furrowing slightly. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but the way her jaw tightened didn’t go unnoticed by Ice, who stifled a laugh behind her hand.

Paige chuckled softly, straightening up and handing the phone back to Azzi. “I look forward to it.”

Azzi tilted her head, giving Paige a small smile. “Mm I’m sure you do.”

Elle cleared her throat, the sound making both Paige and Azzi glance her way.

“You guys are close,” Elle said, her tone light but tinged with something else.

Ice coughed, failing to hide her snicker.

Paige smiled politely, tucking her hands into her pockets. “Yeah, she’s like my best friend.”

Azzi didn’t add anything, instead focusing on grabbing her bag.

After bidding goodbye, the three of them headed toward the door, leaving Elle at the table as she worked on something else.

…

Later that night, Paige and Azzi were tangled together on Paige’s bed, the room dimly lit by her led lights. Paige hovered over Azzi, her lips brushing against hers before she nipped playfully at Azzi’s bottom lip.

“Ow,” Azzi laughed softly, pulling back just enough to pout at her. “That one actually hurt.”

Paige smirked, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh, come on, you’re fine.” She leaned down to kiss her softly, the pout on Azzi’s face melting away almost immediately.

Azzi deepened the kiss, her hands sliding up Paige’s sides, drawing a quiet sigh from her. Paige pulled away slightly, her lips brushing against Azzi’s as she murmured with a chuckle, “You’re such a hornball.”

Azzi grinned, her fingers tugging lightly at the hem of Paige’s shirt. “Can you blame me?”

Paige laughed, sitting back and pulling her shirt off in one smooth motion. Azzi’s eyes immediately landed on the marks she’d left across Paige’s collarbone and shoulders earlier.

“You got me caught up earlier” Paige teased, leaning back down to kiss Azzi again.

Azzi didn’t respond with words, just a satisfied hum as her hands slid into Paige’s hair, undoing her bun.

The soft buzz of Azzi’s phone on the nightstand interrupted them. Azzi ignored it, her focus entirely on Paige, until the buzzing sounded again, twice in quick succession.

“Popular tonight,” Paige muttered against her lips, but Azzi just shook her head, pulling her closer.

Then the phone started ringing.

Paige sighed and pulled back, reaching over to grab the phone from the nightstand. Azzi groaned, her head falling back against the pillow.

“What?” she grumbled, not even bothering to look as Paige’s fingers swiped across the screen looking at the three messages prior to the call .

Paige raised an eyebrow at all the messages and the call. “Elle,” she said, turning the screen toward Azzi.

Azzi’s eyes opened, her brows furrowing slightly. “Seriously?” she muttered, reaching out for the phone, but Paige pulled it back out of her reach.

“Should I answer it?” Paige asked, a teasing smile on her face, already knowing the answer.

“No, give it to me,” Azzi said, sitting up slightly and reaching for it again, but Paige held firm, her grin widening.

Without waiting for a response, Paige answered the call, putting it on speaker. “Hello?”

There was a brief pause on the other end before Elle’s voice came through, hesitant but upbeat. “Um… Azzi?”

Paige smirked, holding the phone just out of Azzi’s reach for a moment. “Yeah she’s right here one sec,” she said into the receiver, handing it off to Azzi with an innocent smile that Azzi didn’t trust for a second.

Azzi sighed, taking the phone and pressing it to her ear. “Hey, Elle. What’s up?” she asked, forcing her voice to sound casual.

“Oh hey! I just wanted to check if you’ve had a chance to go over the notes I sent over after you left,” Elle said brightly.

“Uh… not yet,” Azzi replied, her voice steady, though her gaze flickered to Paige, who was leaning closer with a grin. “I’ve been… busy.”

Paige leaned back on her elbow for a moment, watching her, but then she leaned forward again, her lips brushing softly against the curve of Azzi’s neck. Azzi’s shoulders tensed as she sent Paige a sharp look, mouthing, Don’t start.

“Oh, no worries,” Elle said cheerfully. “I just thought it might help if we went through them together? Maybe tomorrow after class?”

“Yeah, um… that could work,” Azzi said, her voice faltering slightly as Paige pressed a kiss to her neck, this time lingering. Azzi’s free hand pushed weakly at her shoulder, but Paige didn’t budge, her lips curling into a smirk against Azzi’s skin.

“Great!” Elle continued, completely unaware. “Do you want to meet at the library again? Or maybe somewhere quieter where we won’t get distracted? There’s this pretty private coffee shop I know about.”

Azzi’s grip tightened on the phone as Paige began trailing kisses down her neck, her warm breath sending shivers down Azzi’s spine. “Uh… the library’s fine,” Azzi managed to get out, her voice strained.

“Okay, cool that’s fine! Oh, and by the way,” Elle added, her tone turning slightly sheepish, “I actually wanted to ask you about that third slide. I’m not sure I totally understood the point you were making.”

Azzi groaned softly—not at Elle’s question, but at Paige’s lips finding a particularly sensitive spot. She tried to compose herself. “The third slide?” she repeated, her voice higher than normal.

“Yeah, the one about media convergence. Like, how does that tie back to our overall thesis?” Elle asked, her enthusiasm completely at odds with Azzi’s internal panic.

“Um… well,” Azzi started, her words fumbling as Paige smiled against her skin at her struggling. Paige leaned back just enough to whisper, “You’re doing great,” before moving to another spot, this time lightly nipping. Azzi let out a sharp breath and had to clamp her mouth shut to stop any further noise from slipping out.

“I, uh…” Azzi struggled to focus. “It’s about… the integration of different media platforms. Like—um—it shows how, uh, traditional and digital media can…”

Paige’s quiet laugh at Azzi’s stumbling didn’t help. Azzi sent her a pleading look, but Paige just raised her eyebrows as if to say, Don’t mind me.

“That makes sense!” Elle said, completely oblivious. “But do you think we should include more recent examples, like TikTok trends or streaming platforms? Or is that too specific?”

“Sure,” Azzi said quickly, squeezing her eyes shut as Paige sucked hard above her collarbone, barely registering the question. “Whatever you think works is fine.”

“Okay, cool! I’ll jot that down,” Elle replied. “So, do you think we could finalize that section tomorrow? I feel like if we can tighten it up, the rest of the presentation will fall into place.”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi said, nodding absentmindedly, her resolve crumbling as Paige continued to suck gently on her neck, making her breath hitch time and time again. She bit her lip hard, trying to keep her composure as Paige started trailing further down her chest.

“Oh! And about the intro slide—” Elle started, but Azzi couldn’t take it anymore as Paige tilted her head to the side for more access.

“Elle,” she interrupted, her tone a little sharper than intended. “Let’s… uh… finalize everything tomorrow, okay? I’ll take a look at the notes before we meet, I promise.”

There was a brief pause. “Oh, yeah, of course! Sorry if I’m keeping you from something you sound busy,” Elle said, her tone apologetic now.

Azzi huffed softly, glancing at Paige, who was smirking triumphantly. “It’s fine,” Azzi said quickly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, sounds good! Have a good night!” Elle chirped.

“You too,” Azzi replied before ending the call and tossing the phone onto the bed.

Azzi turned to Paige, her cheeks flushed. “You’re on timeout,” she said firmly, though the hint of her smile betrayed her.

Paige leaned back on her elbows, completely unrepentant. “What? I was just keeping myself entertained while my girl was busy,” she said, her grin widening.

Azzi groaned, running a hand through her hair. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Elle seems to think you are too.”

Azzi’s head snapped toward Paige, frowning. “What? No, she doesn’t,” she said, crossing her arms defensively.

Paige snorted, sitting up straighter. “Yeah, okay. She’s just super friendly, right? Sure.”

“She is just friendly,” Azzi said, rolling her eyes. “That’s just her personality.”

Paige tilted her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “Mmm. I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure she has a little crush on you.”

Azzi huffed, but the faintest hint of pink crept up her neck at herself, possibly being oblivious. “You’re imagining things.”

“Oh, I’m imagining things?” Paige asked. “She doesn’t light up every time you talk? Or scoot her chair closer? Practically trip over herself to help you?”

Azzi hesitated, and Paige continued. “See? You know I’m right.”

“She’s just… enthusiastic,” Azzi muttered, though her tone wasn’t as confident as before.

Paige chuckled, shaking her head. “Okay, how about this then? Let’s make a bet.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “A bet? About what?”

Paige leaned back against the headboard, her smirk growing. “Simple. I bet Elle tries something tomorrow when you meet up.”

Azzi groaned, grabbing a pillow. “Paige, she’s not going to try anything. I told her I have a girlfriend.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. “Yeah, because that always stops people who are already crushing hard.”

Azzi let out a laugh, tossing the pillow at Paige. “You’re so full of it. Fine. What are we betting?”

Paige smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Alright, if I’m right, you gotta let me put her in her place.”

Azzi groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “Paige, no.”

“What?” Paige said, laughing. “I’m not saying I’ll be mean. Just, you know, a little something to make it clear who you belong to.”

Azzi shook her head, though she couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re annoying.”

“I’m hilarious,” Paige corrected, leaning back smugly. “Come on, it’ll be harmless. I swear I won’t be over the top.”

Azzi sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re ridiculous. Fine. But what happens if I win?”

Paige shrugged casually. “I don’t know. You can pick.”

Azzi’s gaze shifted toward the closet, her expression turning mischievous.

Paige immediately sat up, narrowing her eyes. “Hell no.”

Azzi pouted dramatically, clasping her hands together like she was begging. “You’re no fun.”

“That’s never happening Az and you know it,” Paige said firmly, crossing her arms.

“Fine,” Azzi said, sighing as though greatly inconvenienced. “If I win, you’re doing the dishes for a week. And laundry.”

Paige groaned, throwing herself back onto the bed. “Why do your bets always come with chores?”

“Because I’m practical,” Azzi said, grinning as she lay down beside her. “And because I know you’ll lose.”

Paige turned her head, giving Azzi a playful glare. “We’ll see about that.”

Azzi laughed softly, shaking her head. “Alright, deal.”

Paige held out her pinky. “Pinky swear?”

Azzi rolled her eyes but hooked her pinky with Paige’s anyway. “You’re so weird.”

“I love you too,” Paige said, her grin widening.

Azzi rolled her eyes, though the fond smile on her lips betrayed her. “I don’t want to talk about her anymore,” she said, her voice softening as she moved to climb onto Paige’s lap, straddling her with ease.

Paige’s breath hitched slightly, her hands instinctively finding Azzi’s hips. She tilted her head back, her lips curving into a smirk. “Mmm,” she murmured, her thumbs brushing lightly over Azzi’s sides. “What do you wanna talk about then?”

Azzi leaned down, her hands bracing on either side of Paige’s head as her lips hovered just above hers. Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she whispered, “I don’t really want to talk.”

Paige’s smirk deepened, her grip on Azzi’s hips tightening slightly. “Good,” she said, her voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. “Talking’s overrated.”

Azzi chuckled softly before closing the gap between them, her lips pressing against Paige’s with a slow, deliberate intensity. Paige responded immediately, her hands sliding up Azzi’s sides and pulling her closer, deepening the kiss.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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