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chiumii · 1 day ago

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in sickness and in health ~ sim jaeyun x reader

౨ৎ inspiried by this request ! ♡ .⋆。⊹ ଓ ⋆˙⊹ [ 제이크 ] ☆ in which your lovely husband decides to take care of you when you are sick, in more ways than just one

word count ; 1.8k

softdom! jake x sick! reader drabble. sleepy fingering , Jake is so so sweet gag me w a fork , established marriage , praise , begging , hickeys / markings , begging , slight daddy kink , more .

as you hear the front door open and close, you begin to stir into consciousness after being in and out of sleep for the past few hours. your nose is clogged as your throat feels raw and sore, your head feels like a hollow balloon and your entire body aches. you had found the strength to get up out of bed and change into warmer clothes - settling on one of jake’s larger hoodies simply because it had the familiar scent of his cologne lingering on the fabric, and a pair of sweat pants that were two sizes too big.

you had fallen asleep on his side of the bed, missing the familiar warmth of his body that brought you indescribable comfort every night. your eyes flutter open, instantly finding the faint figure of a silhouette lingering in the door way. your arms reach out on instinct, jake’s figure slowly coming into view as he begins to take his suits jacket off - hanging it on a hanger before putting it back up in his closet. you smile at your husband , a soft pout prominent on your lips. jake chuckles at you before he puts his hand on your forehead, checking to see how hot you were.

“are you feeling any better baby?” you shake your head no with a shrug of your shoulders, a stinging sensation forming in the back of your nose. jake inwardly smiles at you, his eyes watching your face contort into squinted eyes and lips slightly ajar - the face you normally make when you try to force a sneeze out.

after you sneeze a few times, he kisses the top of your forehead longingly before peeling away from you

“i’m sorry sweetheart, do you need anything?” your husband asks you as he begins to unbutton his collared button up shirt, the sight of his forearms exposed making you feel all sorts of things after being left alone all day confined to your bed. you sit up slightly, your eyes gawking at him as he begins to strip himself of his clothes.

“i dunno, maybe now that you’re home ..” you say quietly, but jake hears you as clear as day. he spins around, the first half of his shirt undone and his nice black dress pants unbuttoned and zipped all the way down. your face heats up at his disheveled appearance, drinking in the delicious sight. Jake can tell by the look on your face that you want one thing and one thing only; knowing you like the back of his own hand. jake chuckles at you before sitting down at the foot of the bed, his hand coming up to rub comforting circles on your calf.

“baby, you’re sick. we can’t” he pouts , tilting his head to the side as he speaks. you huff and cross your arms over your chest, turning your head in order to look away from him. you sniff your nose, finding it difficult to breathe in.

“oh honey, don’t be a brat. i’m going to go heat you up some soup and i’ll be back. after that i’ll run you a bath and we can sit together okay?” your lips remain in a pout, still not turning your head to look over at him. jake sighs at your lack of response, his hand still rubbing gentle circles on your calf through the warm blanket.

“baby, i need you to answer me” you huff again, finally deciding on turning your head to face him fully. you look down at your lap, your fingers fidgeting with one another as you remain pouty-faced. you’ve been left alone all day with your thoughts being your only source of company. every time you got on your phone; your head would start to hurt.

throughout the entire day, your mind was filled with jake and jake alone; how well he takes care of you in so many more ways than just one. how he goes to work in order to fuel your shopping addiction, how he makes you your favorite dishes and runs to the store to get you medicine when you’re sick- and especially when he’s buried between your thighs, his fingers reaching so deeply inside you, jake’s name dripping from your tongue.

you were too tired to touch yourself, and fuck the way jake’s hand lightly gripped your jaw in order to tilt your head up this morning to give you a good-bye kiss was the cherry on top.

your face flushes a deep shade of red as you look up at your husband through your eyelashes, a sigh escaping your mouth. jake tilts his eyebrows up at you, amusement flowing through his veins.

“been thinking about you all day… and you come home looking like this, it makes me feel.. i don’t know. crazy…” jake smirks at your words, his free hand coming to rest on the bed behind him as he leans backwards, his eyes racking down your figure.

“what have you been thinking about love?” you whine in frustration, not wanting to elaborate. you kick his thigh that rests next to your foot jokingly, flustered out of your mind.

“uhm… how well you take care of me, all the time. ‘nd how bad i’ve been needing you…” you speak honestly. the two of you haven’t done anything recently because of your fever and sickness, jake being caught up in the worry of hurting you . jake smiles fondly at you, his heart swelling in adoration and pride. he knows your words are the truth; everything he does- he does it for you. he’s your biggest supporter in everything you accomplish, and he would take care of you always.

"yeah? how do you need me pretty?" he asks, leaning down to crawl over your smaller frame - making you sink further into the mattress below you in silence. jake takes your lack of response with a small smirk that spreads slyly across his face, one of his hands coming to trail its way up your thigh in order to find its way under the blanket.

"where do you need me baby?" he asks once more, your breathing coming out in ragged, shallow breaths. your eyes look up into his, pleading with parted lips.

"here?" he asks, his fingers coming in contact with your clothed heat making a whimper drip off your full lips. you hum in response, your head slowly nodding up and down.

"yes please.." you say under your breath quietly. your pussy pulsates at the contact. jake smiles down at you, pressing his forehead against yours. he begins to massage slow, concentrated circles through your sweats, making your yes fall closed. after a moment of agonizing teasing, he pushes his hand under your sweats, making your stomach flip in nervousness.

"please.." another plea sounds from just under him. jake's hand makes its way down to your panties before pulling them to the side in order to snake his cool fingers through the folds of your wet pussy. your back arches off the mattress slightly in anticipation. neediness slips into your veins like a drug, making jake lowly chuckle.

"such a needy girl, aren't you?" he teases, making you pout. jake focuses his attention to your desperate clit, rubbing focused circles gently on your bundle of nerves that has you moaning out his name. your hands snake up to the square of his shoulders, grabbing onto him in order to ground your mind from slipping away from your body.

you can hear your own wetness as he plays with your swollen pussy, the disgusting sounds were like heaven to jakes ears that he could never, ever get enough of.

jake opts in sliding one of his long fingers into your walls, sliding in with ease thanks to the slick you had provided all for him, because of him. your nails scratch at his back, a tired whimper leaving the back of your throat. his fingers work their magic inside your tight, velvety walls, fingertips softly grazing the sweet spot deep inside you.

your body shakes in his hold, making jake kiss your temple. he trails his kisses down the side of your face - resting on the skin of your neck to leave faint, purple marks. you squirm underneath him as another one of his fingers enters your pussy, fingering you from the inside out.

"my girl just wants to be taken care of huh? wants me to help her in every way possible?" you nod your head, a soft 'yes' incoherently leaves your mouth.

"gonna take such good care of my little angel, make her feel so, so good" and thats exactly what he does - fingering your needy pussy so well that when you close your eyes - you're sent seeing stars on the undersides of your lids. jake has that effect on you - knowing your body better than you possibly could. every inch of you engraved into his mind like an open book he just couldn't seem to forget.

"feels so good, i love you s' much" jake's heart feels like its going to explode, his chest tightening at your words.

"i love you sweet thing" he responds, speaking into your skin while his fingers working faster at splitting you apart. your pussy squeezes his fingers delicately, your desperate cries of his name come to a sweet crescendo.

your body curls into jakes front as he detaches from your neck, letting you bury your face into his chest. everything feels overstimulating and warm, making your mind cloud over with lust.

a warm feeling begins to spread throughout your lower abdomen, your hips bucking up into jakes palm in order to chase after the sensation.

"you close angel?" you frantically nod your head, legs shaking and spreading apart further to grant your husband more access to your body.

"yes,,, yes please... wan' cum please... please let me cum" your begging makes jake feel some sort of power, fueling him into his next choice of words.

"i dunno, have you been a good girl recently?" your eyes fly open, the fear of jake denying you permission to cum makes you pout immensely.

"yes.. been such a good girl f' you" your voice is whiny and desperate, making jake mimic the pout plastered on your face. he ponders for a moment before smiling at you fondly.

"yes you have. been such a patient girl for me recently. don't worry baby, daddys gonna make it all better" his fingers reach a deeper spot inside you, making your toes curl and your back inch further off the bed and right into the palm of your husbands mind.

"cum for me baby" is all he says before your pussy clenches down on his digits that work diligently within your gummy walls, your juices squirting out to signal the snap of your release.

"good girl, let me take good care of you" he whispers into your ear, his movements coming to a slow halt. your body collapses back onto the bed, chest heaving up and down in search of much needed air. jake pulls his fingers out of you with a hiss.

"i love you baby, in sickness and in health" he smiles fondly before kissing the skin of your sweaty forehead.

"i love you more"

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thesecondhandwoman · 1 day ago

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I saw your Ambessa x chronically ill reader post, and I was wondering if you could do the same with Sevika?

EASING THE ACHE

Sevika x f!reader

Synopsis: At a young age, your chronic illness clung to you like a leech, and was still barely numbed by the cheap booze of The Last Drop. Seeing this, Sevika stepped in and tried to help you find a better way to deal with it.

Request: Anon 🤍

The Last Drop was always full of noise. The pulse of Zaun’s underground beating in the form of slurred words, clinking glasses, and the faint hum of machinery from the lower districts. But tonight, the chaos in the air seemed different, sharper, as if something was off. Sevika, ever the sentinel in her own way, was scanning the room through the thick smoke, nursing her glass of whiskey while her mind lingered on something else entirely.

There was a nagging feeling in her chest, a quiet, persistent tug that told her something wasn’t right. She scanned the crowd, eyes darting from one face to the next, before landing on you.

You were sitting alone in a booth toward the back, slouched with your cane resting beside you. A bottle of cheap alcohol was in your hand, its contents sloshing dangerously as you brought it to your lips. You hiccupped loudly, then winced, shifting in your seat as if trying to find some relief. Your posture, once strong and composed, was now hunched, fragile—worn down by the weight of something Sevika knew all too well.

Chronic pain.

The harsh realities of growing up in Zaun had left their mark on you, both physically and emotionally. The toll it took on your body was unrelenting, and Sevika knew how hard you fought to keep it under wraps. But tonight, there was no pretending. You were using cheap alcohol to drown out the constant ache, trying to forget, even if only for a little while.

Sevika stood abruptly, her hand tightening around her glass. Her instincts kicked in, and she made her way over to you, pushing through the crowd with a quiet intensity that spoke volumes about her determination.

When she reached your booth, she slid in across from you without a word, her presence heavy, imposing, but not unkind. You blinked up at her, confusion in your hazy gaze.

“Sevika,” you mumbled, slurring your words slightly. “What’s up? Didn’t see you there.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Sevika’s voice was low, her usual gruffness softened by the concern that lined her words. She gestured to the bottle in your hand. “What the hell are you doing, Y/N?”

You just shrugged, the liquid swishing around in your glass as you lazily brought it to your lips again, your face scrunching in discomfort as you downed a mouthful. “Trying to forget, y’know. Pain’s a bitch.”

Sevika’s heart twisted in her chest at the raw honesty in your voice. You’d always kept your pain hidden, never letting it show except on the rare occasions when it got too bad. But tonight? Tonight, you were fighting it with everything you had, and the alcohol was your only ally.

She reached across the table and snatched the bottle from your hand before you could take another drink. You blinked at her, your brow furrowing in irritation.

“Hey, that’s mine,” you slurred, but Sevika didn’t flinch. Instead, she held the bottle out of your reach, watching as your frustration turned to exhaustion.

“You don’t need this,” Sevika said, her voice quieter now, almost gentle. “I know it hurts, but drinking won’t fix it.”

“It’s the only thing that ever does,” you muttered, your voice tight as you lowered your gaze to your lap, clutching at your cane like a lifeline. You were trying to hide it—the way your hands were shaking, the way your breath was a little too shallow—but Sevika could see right through you.

The silence stretched between you both, filled with the weight of unspoken words and feelings too raw to voice. Finally, Sevika stood up and extended a hand toward you.

“Come on. I’m taking you home,” she said, her voice resolute.

You looked at her for a moment, the exhaustion and vulnerability in your eyes making it hard to resist. With a soft sigh, you reached for her hand, letting her help you stand. The pain was so much worse now that you were upright, but you didn’t say anything. You couldn’t.

Sevika’s arm slipped around your waist, steadying you as the two of you made your way out of the Last Drop and into the dirty streets of Zaun. The air was thick with the smell of oil and metal, the underbelly of the city pressing in on all sides, but for the first time that night, the world seemed a little softer. The warmth of Sevika’s presence was grounding, her steady steps and quiet support making you feel just a little less alone.

The walk to your apartment felt like a blur, your body swaying with the weight of exhaustion and the dull, lingering ache in your bones. Every step felt like it took more effort than the last, but Sevika didn’t let go of you. She didn’t rush, didn’t scold you for slowing her down. She was there, present, her strength pulling you along when you couldn’t go any further.

By the time you reached your apartment, you were beyond exhausted, your legs trembling beneath you. Sevika helped you inside, kicking the door shut with her boot and guiding you to the couch.

“Sit,” she commanded, and you obeyed without a word, collapsing onto the cushions. Your body ached, and your head spun, but the worst of it was the overwhelming exhaustion that seemed to press down on you from all sides. You could hardly keep your eyes open.

Sevika disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass of water and a damp cloth. She sat beside you, dabbing the cloth against your forehead with a tenderness that surprised you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured, her fingers gentle as she wiped away the sweat that had gathered on your skin.

You let your head fall back, your eyes fluttering closed. “You don’t have to do this, Sev,” you whispered, your voice thick with exhaustion. “I’m fine. Really.”

“No, you’re not,” Sevika said softly, her hand lingering on your shoulder. “And that’s okay. You don’t have to be fine all the time.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, embarrassed by how vulnerable you felt. You hadn’t meant to fall apart like this—not in front of her, not when she was always so strong, so in control.

“Sevika,” you started, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what to do anymore. It hurts so much. And I, I don’t want to keep relying on things like this,” you gestured weakly at the empty bottle, “But I don’t know how to make it stop.”

Her expression softened, and for a long moment, she said nothing. Then, slowly, she leaned forward, brushing her lips against your forehead in a kiss that was gentle and warm.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Sevika said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m here. You’ve always got me, okay?”

You blinked up at her, your heart swelling at the sincerity in her eyes. Slowly, drunkenly, you leaned forward and kissed her—soft, sweet, a little clumsy, but full of everything you couldn’t say.

Sevika didn’t pull away. Instead, she deepened the kiss, her hand resting on your cheek as she kissed you back, the warmth of her lips grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, you leaned your head against her shoulder, the exhaustion catching up to you. Your body, worn down by both the alcohol and the constant ache, finally gave in to sleep.

Sevika remained by your side, her arms wrapping around you as she held you close. There were no more words, no more need for them. You were safe, you were cared for, and that was enough for tonight.

As you drifted into a peaceful, alcohol-induced sleep, Sevika whispered into your hair, her voice a soft murmur.

“Rest, doll, I’m not going anywhere.”

And this time, for the first time in a long while, you believed her.

A/N: Hey guys, sorry I’ve been kinda slow with posting ever since Christmas, but I plan on doing my daily fanfics again starting tomorrow (around two everyday, since I’ve been working on alot of requests). Either way, hope you guys are doing well, and enjoy this fic!

#sevika x reader #sevika x you #Sevika fanfic #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #Sevika #arcane fanfic #arcane #lesbian fanfic #lesbian #hurt/comfort fanfic #hurt/comfort #light angst fanfic #light angst #fluffy fanfic #fluff #fanfic #fanfic writing

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miumura · 18 hours ago

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TREATIN’ ME LIKE AN ENEMY ｡｡｡｡ 엔하이픈 🪽 ✦

( 𝓢 ) ﹕ in a secret relationship with your “enemy”

──── enhypen hyung line x f ! r ╱ ⌕ est. but secret relationship, workplace / co-workers au, fluff, comfort ( ? ) ∿ w. petnames, rude co-worker + mention of blood in sunghoon’s ( nothing graphic ) wc. 1.6K+ ( 1645 ) ｡｡ might need to make jey into my top 5 bc i love this song 😆

❛❛ 💬 ❞ 𝗦𝗢𝗣𝗛 > 𓂃 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗖𝗞 𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗕𝗢𝗢𝗞𝗦𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗙 ⋮ 🪽

LEE HEESEUNG

“You’ll be working with…Lee Heeseung,” your supervisor said to you during a team meeting, unknowingly dropping a bombshell. It left your co-workers to exchange nervous glances around the room. Everyone knew you and Heeseung were practically sworn enemies, your relentless competitiveness with each other being the worst-kept secret in the office.

“So, go sit with your partner and start working on a new proposal,” your supervisor wrapped up the meeting, leaving everyone to scramble around to switch seats.

You chose to stay put, looking extremely disinterested as Heeseung was making his way over to the empty seat next to you. As you glanced at him, he seemed to wear the same look too as he sat down.

He scooted his chair closer to you, opening up his laptop. “Let’s work on this project with no hiccups, alright?” he says, his voice loud enough for others to hear.

To everyone else, you two were like oil and water—certainly not a good pair in other people’s eyes. What your co-workers didn’t know, however, was how Heeseung sneakily chose to get closer to intertwine his hands with yours under the table.

You subtly squeezed his hand back, both of you trying—and failing—to suppress the smiles threatening to creep onto your faces.

They certainly didn’t know how good of a pair you two could be.

PARK JONGSEONG

“Oh come on, you’re avoiding me even when we’re alone now?” Jay teased after trying to get your attention for the past few minutes. “It was just an act, I promise.”

You didn't even look up from your screen. “Suddenly sending me spam emails at once in front of our co-worker, and telling me I can’t delete them because one of them has important project details…” You tried to grit your teeth to hold back your frustration, but the words still slipped out. “And now I have to go through every single one of these with the same titles but blank emails? That’s a bit mean, don’t you think?”

"People were getting suspicious," he said, rolling his chair closer to you, only for you to shove it away with your leg. He just smirked, clearly amused by your reaction. "They said I’ve been too ‘normal’... or I guess, too nice to you lately."

“Well, I rather have a nice boyfriend right now, instead of him watching me go through these emails,” you huffed, your eyes still fixed on the screen. “You could at least share me another copy of it or just tell me now if it’s actually anything important.”

“I would think it’s rather important,” Jay replied, drawing out the last word in a teasing sing-song tone.

Finally, you glanced over at him, your frustration barely contained. He wore a small but sly smirk, his eyebrows slightly raised, clearly waiting to see what you’d do next.

“Are you going to tell me?” you asked, not sure whether to be more annoyed or curious.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to those emails for that?” He said, causing you to abruptly spin around, with your eyes glued once again.

“You’re really mean,” you said, thinking of the plan to ignore him once again.

He lightly chuckled, getting up from his chair and walking behind you. His hand rested on the back of your chair, and you felt a familiar warmth when his other hand slid over yours on the mouse.

“It’s this one,” he whispered close to your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You jolted slightly, turning to face him, eyes wide in surprise as his heartwarming smile spread across his face. “Why don’t you read it?”

You cleared your throat, your fingers lingering on the mouse as you clicked on the email. But there were no project details—just a simple message:

“Let’s go to the place you’ve always wanted to go to?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You quickly turned to face Jay, lips parted in surprise as you watched his eyes light up, clearly waiting for your reaction.

“So, what do you say?” Jay crouched down to your level, holding your hand gently.

“Let’s go on a date?”

SIM JAEYUN

"Do you not know how to do a single thing?" you asked in disbelief, flipping through the “messy” weekly report Jake had written.

"Are you seriously trying to criticize my work right now?" Jake shot back, his voice sharp enough to make heads turn outside the break room.

He stepped closer, reaching for the paper in your hand. His brows furrowed, and his expression hardened, his frustration clear as he tilted his head to meet your gaze.

“Do you think you’re my bos—” Jake stopped mid-sentence, his ears perking at the sound of hurried footsteps outside. His eyes darted to the window of the door, catching a glimpse of a group of people quickly scurrying away. He walked closer, double checking to make sure everyone was out of sight.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, his serious demeanor melted in an instant. He turned back to you with a cheeky grin, a sight you started to get familiar with. Without hesitation, he crossed the room to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Not at work, babe,” you said as you nudged him away from you, although you still wanted to be in his embrace. His pouty expression had you lightly chuckling as his hands stayed firmly on your hips.

“Are you really the same person a minute ago?” you teased, wondering how your boyfriend was able to change expressions that quick.

“Is my acting that good?” Jake asked, his grin growing even wider, his pride written all over his face.

"A little too good," you admitted with a small laugh, your fingers tracing gentle circles over his knuckles. "I wonder what you were going to say next? Do I think I'm your... what?"

“Boss,” he clarified where he had left off from, his tone softening as he added, “and we both know that’s not what you are.”

“So, what am I?”

“I think you’re my girl,” he said confidently, but then he quickly shook his head. “Scratch that—I know that you’re my girl.”

PARK SUNGHOON

“And… Y/N,” your co-worker trailed off, his tone suddenly sharp as he glanced over your report. The air in the room grew heavy, and an uneasy silence filled the space. “You’ve done better work than this.”

The sound of a pin dropping could have echoed in the room. All eyes shifted to you as heat rose to your face. Your own gaze flickered from the report in his hands to the floor, shame creeping in.

“Are you going to say anything?” he pressed.

“I’m sorry…” you managed to mumble, your voice barely audible.

“That’s it?” His tone grew harsher, and your eyes darted back to him, surprised by the sound in his voice. “Aren’t you going to reassure us that you’ll do better next time?”

“I…” You bit your lip, trying to steady yourself, but the sting from the broken skin sent a jolt through you.

“I don’t know why you’ve been so—“

“If you don’t mind letting her finish her sentence instead of acting like a jerk, that would be greatly appreciated,” Sunghoon’s voice cut him off, making everyone turn toward him.

You blinked, shocked to hear him speak up for you. The whispers started immediately—no one expected Sunghoon to defend you, not given your so-called “bad terms.”

“Instead of giving her constructive criticism, you’re just trying to tear her down,” Sunghoon continued, his voice calm but serious. He picked up a copy of one of the very reports laid out, flipping through it with sharp precision. “And honestly, I don’t think you’re in any position to talk about anyone else’s work.”

“Excuse me?” The co-worker looked both offended and startled.

“When was the last time our supervisor called your report anything more than average?”

The room filled with hushed murmurs, and you saw the co-worker’s face turn red. He fired back, “Why are you defending her? Aren’t you two supposed to hate each other?”

Sunghoon leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. “Should I just leave my morals because of some petty label people decided to put on us? I won’t stand by while you talk to her like that.”

“You two clearly have something going on—” the man started, pointing an accusatory finger at both of you, only to stop mid-sentence when Sunghoon suddenly scraped his chair against the floor and stood up.

The entire room fell silent as Sunghoon grabbed your arm, his touch firm but not forceful. Without a word, you stood as well, letting him guide you toward the door.

“If you’ll excuse us both,” Sunghoon said, his voice having an unmistakable edge, “call us back when this team can manage a respectful meeting.”

The door shut firmly behind you, muffling the chaos of the room. Sunghoon immediately turned to you, his hands gently cupping your face.

“You’re bleeding,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lip with tenderness. You winced slightly, and he frowned. “I’ll get you some ointment.”

“Hoon, you didn’t have to do that…” you said softly.

He shook his head, his hands still framing your face. “Come on, even if everyone thinks we’re enemies, I wasn’t going to just sit there and let someone treat my girlfriend like that. And I’m sorry I didn’t step in sooner. I didn’t think that jerk would keep going like that.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you smiled up at him. “He’s always been like that. I’ve just dealt with it for so long.”

“Well, you don’t have to anymore,” Sunghoon said firmly, his hands moving to gently hold your arms. His eyes softened as he looked at you. “Regardless of what people think or what they call us, I’ll stand up for you.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

‘💬’ ─── this was supposed to be an 0t7 work but i started blanking out 😖 but hey first hyung line work !!

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dc418writes · 2 days ago

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Fuck it, I’m Jealous

✨Pairing✨: TE!Terry Richmondxblack!reader

Summary🪄: Your (secret) feelings for your best friend reach a new height

🚨: teensy bit of angst, brief mention of children, language, allusion to abusive relationship, fluff mixed throughout

Fic inspo:

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

I ain't never been good at sharing

But with you, I practice patience

And I let you do your thing 'cause I'm doin' mine

I was actin' like I'm good when I know I'm lyin'

The rhythmic thud and vibrations from the speakers run through your whole body as you sit at the mini bar watching other guests dancing and laughing. Usually you’d be among the bodies swaying on the dance floor at least once or mingling with whomever was open enough to talk, but tonight you can’t seem to switch your focus from the couple near the tall floor to ceiling windows.

Specifically, your best friend, Terry, and the woman giggling and smiling as she hangs on to his every word.

They’ve nearly been attached at the hip all night - moving from the dance floor to a more private section of the bustling mansion’s living room - and you had to admit, she was gorgeous. Silky, black hair flowing to the middle of her back and face flawlessly clear of blemishes, she was definitely his type with her Hollywood dazzling smile and matching perfect curves. Yet with every flirty glance, you could feel a sickening twinge in your gut.

So much in your head, you fail to realize your other best friend, Ondrea, had joined you after ordering another fruity cocktail. “Her beauty does not take away from yours.”

“I know,” you softly smile attempting to hide your hurt.

“And you, my love, have a line of suitors both in here and outside who’d be blessed with just a minute of your attention.”

You didn’t want them though. Every single one you tried just couldn’t compete - let alone be in the same room - as Terry Richmond. Charming, big eared, jerk.

Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, she leans her head on yours with a soft sigh, “Want me to break them up? Accidentally on purpose spill a drink on her?”

“No,” you chuckle, “and I think you’ve reached your limit on the drinks.” She did tend to be a little more…aggressively protective around her fourth. “Where’s Ali?”

Sipping from the little glass in her hand, her other waves as if she couldn’t care less where her defensive lineman husband was. “I’m grown, okay? I don’t need a babysitter and don’t think I don’t realize you trying to divert! Have you talked to him?”

“Drea we both know I can’t do that.”

“You need to though! If I see you sad about alien eyes one more time imma fight him myself.”

“Aye you supposed to be cut off.” You’ve never been happier to see Ali. You came to this party in hopes to forget your messy feelings. To get a long deserved break from the heaviness - and occasional tears - they caused. “Gimme the glass now Ondrea Marie.”

Rolling her eyes, she’s quick to drain the remainder of the candy green liquid - much to her husband’s dismay - before placing the glass in his large paw of a hand. “Happy?,” she hiccups with a giggle lightly bumping you.

“This woman,” he mumbles in exasperation leaving the empty glass on the shiny bar. “Hey bitty, surprised to see you and Terry separated.”

You’d practically been each other’s shadows since college. Each somehow drifting back after working the room if you didn’t stick together the entire time. It’s why most of those interested became slightly disappointed thinking you were more than friends, which you’d both immediately deny.

“By all means, shoot ya shot. Want me to introduce you?”

“Well, I uh thought it’d be best to give him some privacy since he’s pretty occupied.” Turning to find his teammate among the moving attendees, he smirks watching the mystery, model-esque woman lean in to whisper in the Tight End’s ear. Clearly something salacious from how Terry licked his full lips before handing her his phone. His mouth smoothly whispering something back then moving to her neck as she giggled and playfully smacked his chest.

“Well he’s definitely gonna have a fun night.”

That made one of you. “Yep, and I think I’m gonna head home.”

“Already?”

“Yea it’s been a long day, plus I got more to do tomorrow.” Like sulk in the privacy of your own home. Maybe catch an episode or two of Law and Order.

“Oh okay. You need a ride? Or want me to get T-?”

“Nope I’m alright. I’ll just Uber again,” you quickly answer. From his slightly raised brow, you know Ali can probably sense there’s an issue but he doesn’t press on and you’re grateful he seems to catch the hint.

“Uh uh we can drive you home,” Ondrea speaks up trying to stand on slightly unsteady legs. Luckily Ali’s there to keep her from falling to which she insists she’s got it and he rolls his chocolate eyes.

“No yall stay, I’ll be fine.” Not giving them a chance to utter another word, you slip from your barstool with a quick wave and clutch in your hand as your heels hastily clack along the tiled floor towards the entrance. “I’ll call when I get home!”

“We should have another one,” Terry states staring with proud eyes at the quiet bundle in their white crib. His elbows bent over the railing as he adorably coos while fixing the small blanket that looked like the one from your childhood.

“We just had this one,” you giggle jokingly poking the back of his thigh with your toe. Peering over his shoulder, there’s no hiding that boyish grin you fell in love with.

“She need a friend though, she told me.”

“Mhm..she told you that?” He nods moving to get on his knees and crawl until his head is in your lap. His soft hands bringing yours to his lips to peck as he begins to beg.

“Pleasepleaseplease!”

The melodic chime from your doorbell startles you awake with a racing heart and dull ache in your temple from sitting up too fast. It’s soon followed by a couple thunderous knocks that don’t help your already panicked state.

‘Gimme a break,’ you think shuffling to your door. In retrospect, you should’ve looked on your app before opening the door. Or maybe even pretended you weren’t home.

Black Nike sweats covering his legs and matching sweatshirt over his upper half, Terry wasn’t annoyed but you could tell he was in a mood.

“H-Hey,” you greet with a nervous smile. “Everything okay?”

His brief, low chuckle is far from humorous as he crosses his thick arms across his chest. “I could ask you the same. Haven’t talked to you in almost a month.”

‘And? Haven’t you been busy with what’s her name?’ You want to say, but instead you simply shrug. “I’ve been busy.”

“So busy you can’t text or call me back? Come to my games?”

“Wow, one less fan to watch you out of what..hundreds of thousands?,” you sarcastically retort with an attitude Terry had never been on the receiving end of. “I don’t have to always-,”

“You back with him?”

Him in question being your ex, Chris. From their first meeting, Terry couldn’t stand him and definitely wasn’t shy about telling you.

“You need to let him go.”

“I’m tellin you, he’s no good twin.”

The feeling was mutual with Chris. At the mention of Terry he’d roll his eyes and mood would visibly change. And when your then boyfriend expressed how he didn’t want you around Terry, you reluctantly respected that boundary. Until it seemed he didn’t want you with Ondrea either.

It unfortunately took some time to see that so called boundary was nothing more than control. Although slightly hurt, neither of your friends blamed you when you came back with tearful apologies. They took turns being your shoulder to cry on, but Terry tended to check in and visit more. There were many days he’d be waiting in your apartment’s parking lot - specifically in the spot next to your usual - sat in his black on black Ford truck with bags of food in the passenger seat.

“Don’t you have practice in the morning?,” you asked that first night he appeared.

“Yes, and I’ll be there don’t worry twin,” he winked gathering both takeout bags in his hand before following you to your door.

“No, I’m not.”

“Then what?,” Terry asks. “I do something to you?”

Yes, you made me fall in love with you and complicate my love life dookiehead. “No,” you sigh.

Kissing his teeth, his frustration only builds the more you lie. “Look, I’m not stupid clearly it’s something! You ain’t even invite me in and I’m just supposed to-,”

“I just need space Terry!”

“From me?”

“Yes! And…”

Those words are right there on the tip of your tongue practically tickling your lips ready for their escape. Your fears clutch them at the last moment though, refusing to let them go and potentially ruin the best relationship of your life thus far. Your second home you could always depend on.

“And what?”

Your fingers massage you temple feeling that headache become sharper and more painful. “Can we just…not..tonight?” You were nowhere near ready - mentally or emotionally - for this conversation. However like the stubborn, determined man he is Terry can’t easily let things go. Whenever there’s a problem, he finds a solution then and there.

In double time if it concerns his family or friends.

His long legs swiftly bring him over your threshold before closing the door behind him. His hypnotic green eyes intense and never leaving yours leaning back against the wooden entrance.

“I’m not leaving until you get whatever it is you need to say out! I know something’s wrong and wish you’d-,”

“Fine! You wanna know? It is you T,” you finally reveal with tears beginning to flow down your heated cheeks. He wanted to know? Well he just opened Pandora’s box. “I’m..I’m tired of pretending I’m fine seeing you with other girls and hearing about this one in Vegas and-and that one from the club!”

You don’t know if his silence is him taking in your words or from shock. Maybe even unease. For the first time you can’t read him at all.

You can feel the knot form in your throat as your fear tries once more to stop your vulnerability. As usual, he can tell you’re ready to shut down again prompting him to step closer carefully reaching out to brush your freshest tear away from your face. “What else? Keep goin.”

“I shouldn’t have ignored you, but I knew if I said something then I’d ruin what we already have,” you softly explain trying to steady your heaving chest and hiccups. “I mean there’s a reason we’ve never crossed that line right?”

“And why is that?,” he asks stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Was..was he serious? “B-Because you’re not attracted to me like that. Which is fine-,”

“I never said that.” Now was his turn to struggle finding his next words as he took a break from your angelic features to peer down at the tiled floor. Meanwhile you patiently stood there rubbing your ear in your attempt to self soothe - a habit you had as a kid that surprisingly followed you all these years.

“From that first day we met in the dorms, I could tell you were different-,”

“I was one of the crew,” you interrupt.

“No, I mean…you weren’t one to play around. You were intentional with everything you did, had your shit together, and if it ain’t make sense to you, you didn’t want no parts.

You couldn’t help it, it’s how you were raised. Not to say you didn’t have fun and make time for the things you liked, but at the end of the day you knew the important stuff needed to get done.

“I knew I wasn’t there, so I didn’t bother you. You kept it friendly, so I did too. Doesn’t mean I was never attracted.”

You can feel your heart begin its rapid patters again, but now for a completely different reason. “So…so what?,” you ask still unsure. “You’re saying you’ve liked me this entire time?”

His Jordans lightly squeak as he steps closer once more. The amber from his Tom Ford cologne and body heat radiating from his chest makes you dizzy feeling your knee wobble as your back meets your kitchen island. His grayish-green eyes attached to yours once more after a quick glance at your pouty lips. “I’m saying I’ve been attracted to you since I first saw you, and every day after we got closer I knew you complimented me in the best ways…the yin to my yang, my twin. I didn’t wanna be that guy you thought only was friends with you to get with you.

“And when Lizard-,”

“His name is Chris,” you corrected, rolling your eyes with a sniffled giggle.

“I know what I said.” So petty. “When he did that, I wanted to protect you from anyone else who tried to hurt you,” he bashfully shrugs and you mentally aw at how adorable he could be. “Wanted to be the only one to protect you.”

It’s as if your body’s in control rather than your brain how you eliminate the remaining space, reaching up to press your lips against his. Admittedly, it’s…different at first - reminiscent of your first kiss in middle school - but when his warm hand caresses your cheek and the other slides to your lower back, sparks tingle and ignite from your head to your toes. Your lips moving at their own rhythm as both your tongues soon follow pulling moans from your chest.

Begrudgingly, Terry breaks first needing air - and a moment to collect himself. His low chuckle brushes against your cheek hearing your little whimper from wanting more. “Gimme a minute twin,” he smiles pressing his forehead against yours.

“So…what now?,” you whisper nearly getting lost in the way his fingertips feel grazing along your spine.

“You tell me. What do you want?” The deep baritone of his whisper sends addicting shivers throughout your body.

“You,” you answer gently gripping his sweatshirt not wanting to let go - just in case this was some wild fever dream. “All to myself.”

He can’t help but smile at the way your onyx eyes, mixed with swirls of ebony, innocently peer up at him through your wispy lashes. “You got me,” he replies leaning down to meet your waiting lips once more.

I ain't gon' tell you to drop them other bitches

But drop them other bitches

I never been jealous

But fuck it, I'm jealous

So goddamn invested

A/N🎤: HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE✨💕!! I hope everyone is having a great time and able to rest. Or if you’re going through it this season, I wish healing for you and to remember you are so loved and deserving of love☺️.

This idea has been on my mind for a while and uh…I honestly don’t know how to feel about it lol it took on so many changes and I feel like it might be boring, but then again I’m my own worst critic so hopefully yall enjoy!

I wanted to have a holiday themed story or two out by now but as usual I am late lol, but I’m still trying to have something out before new years (however we’ll see👀 lol)

#Spotify #terry richmond #terry richmond x black reader #Terry Richmond x woc #terry richmond x reader #rebel ridge #aaron pierre

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moody-alcoholic · 3 days ago

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On a Wing and a Prayer

Part 7 - Well This Is Awkward

CW: Angst, mention's of alcohol, mentions of panic attack's, mental health, mentions of injuries, mentions of death.

Did I mention I like medical dramas?

Previous parts - masterlist - next

Your therapist is nice. You’ve been going to her for the past 3 months, you were only supposed to go for a single session. Then the army insisted on more. Johnny was sent home on medical leave a few days after you left. He came to see you and stayed the night.

The next morning you had to tell him to leave, it just wasn’t the same.

‘I’ll be staying at the house if you want to visit?’

Shit, you forgot about the house. The place you all pitched in to buy, so you all had somewhere to stay when you were on leave. Everyone’s flats are too small to accommodate all 5 of you. Besides, flat hopping everyday across London was expensive.

‘I’ll talk to John when he’s back.’ All you want back is the deposit.

“Do you feel guilty?” She asks you. It snaps you out of your thoughts and you turn to look at her.

“No.” You say, she hums. You hate it when she does that. You don’t know why it is a particularly tough session. You just want to go home. “They hurt me. I don't feel guilty about that.”

“You left the unit though.” Bitch. “It’s okay to feel guilty about that.”

“Okay fine. I feel guilty about leaving Johnny and Kyle.” You snap back. Anything to get her to sign you off so you can go. You look up at the clock, you still have at least 40 minutes left in this season.

“Have you got your letter from the university yet?” She asks changing the subject. You nod. After a few weeks of crying on the bathroom floor and drowning yourself in bottles of vodka you decided to get your shit together.

“That’s good, what's the plan going forward?”

“I’ll be posted on a base somewhere where I can get hands-on experience in trauma care. With studying on the side.” You say without going too much into the complications.

“So the army is actively helping you, that's good.”

“Yeah I think they’re willing to do anything so long as I don’t sue them.” You scoff under your breath. She hums.

You don’t know how true that is, maybe it’s just something you tell yourself so you don’t feel so conflicted over how accommodating they’ve been. They’re paying your uni bills and even got you one some army teaching program aimed to fast track you through the ranks.

“What about Kyle and Johnny? Have you heard from them since you spoke to them last?” Fucking bitch. You sigh, turning away from her. The last time you spoke to them was almost a month ago. They text you from time to time, try to call you.

You’ve ignored them, so much that you feel like anything you say to them will just be meaningless.

“Yeah, they’re deployed.” You lie. She smiles. You look back up at the clock.

30 minutes to go.

______________________

Iraq is hot. That you expected but the hospital’s electricity is sketchy at best. You have to keep the air-con off to make sure the ventilators don’t cut out. The US built this place, you’re only supposed to be here for another week at least before you’ll move again.

As soon as the electric is fixed it will be handed over to the UN to run, until then it was getting a dry run as a combat hospital. Lots of blown off limbs and bullets to pull out people. Lots of death.

You told Johnny and Kyle where you were going when you got your placement. You’re trying to patch things up with them after basically leaving them on read for almost 3 months. Your therapist said it would be a good thing to do.

The sun is setting, you're sitting outside watching as it touches the top of the distant mountains. The place is busy, friendly forces are still pretty much living here. It’s the only safe zone in this part of the desert, why the UN wanted a hospital out here you’ll never know.

Something about re-urbanisation of previously controlled territories. You don’t care, you're here to pull bullets out of people and save lives. Other than your mentor-Dr. Sands-you’re the only other doctor on the base. Doctor is a loose term, you’re technically still a student, but you ace all your skills labs, and the army is begging for help apparently.

You let out a breath, finishing the rest of your drink and getting up and pulling your white lab coat on.

“Well, fancy seeing you ‘ere.” You hear a familiar thick accent behind you. You turn to see Johnny standing behind you.

What the fuck.

You’re hugging him before you can stop yourself. You see Kyle, John and Simon stood behind him. They’re all geared up, weapons slung over their chest or back.

You thought you would feel something when you saw them. Maybe you'd want to run, scream, cry, anything. You feel nothing, just numbness.

“What are you doing here?” You ask.

“Oh you know, Shepherd says jump, we say how high.” he says nudging you, it makes you smile and you shake your head.

“Finally going for the MD?” He asks, pointing at the student doctor tag on your coat.

“Yeah well, you like putting bullets in people. I like pulling them out.”

“Oh yeah not even the occasional love tap?” He jokes, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

“Only the bad guys.” You reply. You look up at Kyle who’s smiling. Then John and Simon.

“You look good.” John says.

“Yeah well that’s what 6 months of therapy will do to you.” It’s bitter, harsher than you expected it to be. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him in 6 maybe 7 months. He hasn’t changed a bit. He still smiles at you, his body language open, his hands on his hips.

Simon stands with his arms crossed, his presence is looming, making hairs stand up on the back of your neck.

“It’s good to see you again.” Kyle says, you nod at him.

“Oh when we’re back we should catch a bite to eat.” Johnny says enthusiastically, moving away over to Kyle.

“You can tell us what to avoid in the mess.” Kyle adds. You smile again. You go to open your mouth but your pager beeps. You look down at it. It’s the doctor.

“Yeah, when you’re back, come find me.” You say turning into the building.

“Stay safe!” Johnny calls.

“Yeah you too!” You call back pulling your radio off your hip. When you make it through the door you squeeze your eyes closed for a second and let out a long breath.

Now you hate this hospital even more.

______________________

It’s dark out now. You look over at the clock and it's almost midnight. You’re sat at the nurses station listening to them talk about whatever drama is going on in the next base. You still can’t believe you ended up in the same base as 141.

They’ll be gone soon, even Johnny seemed surprised, maybe he thought you’d be gone by now. Now you have to eat with them at some point. Johnny and Kyle at least.

The doctor left an hour ago to go to another base for a surgery. You’re used to this taking the night shifts. Normally you just sleep and get woken up a few times for the nurses to ask for medication changes. You’ve only ever had one trauma come in at night and the doctor was there to help you with the limited night time staff.

You tried to sleep but you couldn’t, you were restless trying to think about what they were doing here? Who were they after? How long would they be here? At least at the nurses station you can listen to the nurses and let their gossip distract you.

The red trauma phone rings. For a second you think it’s a joke, it’s the normal phone. Nope, the red light is flashing on it. You stand up picking it up.

“Trauma.” You say.

“Got one incoming, ETA 15 minutes. GSW to the chest, breathing unconscious. 30 year old male.” You hear an American voice say as you write it down. You don’t have time to worry or be nervous. This is what you live for, you let the adrenaline pump through you. It clears your mind as you take down the information.

“Copy, what’s the name?”

“Riley.” Your heart stops.

“Say again?”

“Riley, Simon Riley.”

It feels like all the air has been sucked out of your lungs. You’re squeezing the phone in your hand, the pen has fallen to the floor. You look over at the nurses already pulling gowns on and getting into position in the resus bay.

You don’t even register saying copy and putting the phone back. You turn away from the nurses braising yourself on a filing cabernet.

Simon’s shot. All you can see is his face, his body covered in blood. He’s always so careful, he’s always the one dragging people out the field not getting shot. Something must have gone horribly wrong.

You weren't there. He’s shot and you weren't there to save him.

You suck in breaths of air, the adrenaline isn’t helping now.

“Doctor?” You hear one of the nurses call. You turn to look at them, you have to keep it together.

“Page the doctor.”

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queenvidal · 18 hours ago

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The Golden Rose Of Rome

Emperor Geta x Reader

Chapter 1: Thorns

Chapter Summary: The Emperor is not used to being denied. He'll come to find even the most beautiful flowers carry thrones. Drawing his intrigue is dangerous and no prickle will stop him.

Wordcount: 4k.

A/N: Written inclusively, no race mentioned or implied.

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2/ Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

Masterlist

The air of the Imperial Palaces is buzzing with laughter and music. Expensive wine is flowing freely between Rome's Elite, a parade of wealth and charm where every guest is competing for attention in the glittering spectacle. From their golden dais, the twin emperors oversee the festivities, though each is engrossed in his own way.

Caracalla lounges lazily in his gilded seat, the lack of enthusiasm evident. He is barely paying attention, too focused on his beloved monkey that is sitting on the armrest. While taking long, careless sips of wine he occasionally fed Dundus with grapes.

Geta on the other hand is sitting upright but his face is mirroring the boredom of his brother, his dark eyes observing the crowd with mild interest.

These elaborate displays of power and wealth had quickly lost their appeal and soon became tiresome rituals of their rule. Necessary evils, as even Emperors have to maintain appearances.

Caracalla throws a grape in the air, watching Dundus catch it mid-air. His eyes momentarily move towards the crowd before returning back to his monkey. With a sigh, he breaks the silence, gesturing toward a group of dancers performing in the center of the hall. “Do you ever wonder why we bother with all this? I’d wager most of them don’t even remember why we are holding these festivities.”

Geta glances at his brother, with a hint of humor in his voice he asks, “Do you?” Caracalla narrows his eyes at the teasing but keeps silent, his attention back to the monkey.

“It’s necessary,” Geta continues, his eyes resuming to oversee the guests. “The spectacle reminds them of our power.”

“Power,” Caracalla echoes with a grimace. “If they were truly loyal, we wouldn’t need to remind them at all. Loyalty bought with wine and music isn’t loyalty. It’s theater.”

“Perhaps,” Geta shrugs his shoulders. “But the people thrive on theater. It keeps them entertained and compliant.”

Caracalla sighs, swirling his goblet, “We should have asked Marcinus to send some of his gladiators.”

Geta tilts his head, amusement coloring his features. “We can’t have people die at every festive occasion, brother.”

Caracalla’s grin turns wicked as he strokes Dundus’s fur, “Says who?”

That elicits a faint chuckle from his brother. Geta reaches for a new goblet of wine, with his lips curved into a half smile. “The night’s still young, Caracalla. Let’s see what this evening brings before you write it off entirely.”

As if on cue, the grand doors of the atrium swing open, catching both brothers’ attention. A new set of guests enters the hall. Another senator with his family, but something about them is different, their arrival causes a subtle shift in the room. Heads turn and hushed whispers travel through the crowd.

“More senators,” Caracalla releases a tired breath, his attention already elsewhere.

Geta is about to dismiss them as well but then the senator steps aside, revealing two young women trailing behind him. Geta straights in his chair lightly, his attention sharpening.

The elder of the two wears a pale bluish almost lavender colored dress that shimmers in the light of the chandeliers. Her hair is pinned up, exposing her neck and shoulders. An air of quiet confidence surrounds her as she walks, her head held high as she speaks with her father. The younger one, in a soft, rose-colored gown, clings to her sister’s arm. Her movements try to mimic the elder’s, though she lacks the sisters' confidence. They exchange a few words with their father before he drifts off with their brother, leaving the two to stand at the entrance.

Caracalla notices Geta’s interest and raises an eyebrow. “Something worth noting?” But Geta doesn’t reply right away. Caracalla follows his brother’s line of sight, observing the young women briefly before turning back to Dundus. “They’re pretty, I’ll give them that. But half the women here are pretty.”

“True,” Geta murmurs softly.

Caracalla has to smirk, to him they look like every other noble daughter. “Careful, Geta. You seem interested. Should I have them sent up?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Geta scoffs at his brother, before leaning back in his chair, his eyes moving over the crowd again.

Caracalla chuckles softly, tossing another grape to Dundus. “The night’s young, indeed.”

The air smells like flowers and honey. Your eyes dart between the crowd, as you take a deep breath, trying to steel your nerves. The practiced mask of composure quickly slips into place. With a pet of your sister's hand on your arm, you smile at her, “Shall we?”

Sabina nods, giving you a faint smile of her own. Her calm exterior is just an act and you know that. You can feel the unease radiating from her. The court is a beautiful prison, a place where every glance and every word carries meaning. Tonight, the eyes of friends and foes will be on you. A dance you’ve learned long ago but it's still new to your little sister.

With Sabina’s hand securely around your arm, you lead her through the hall, exchanging brief pleasantries with the various nobles and acquaintances you encounter. The conversations are fleeting and filled with hollow friendliness. Not wishing to spend the night with unhonest smiles alone, you two continue moving through the crowd.

When a servant approaches with trays of wine, you take two cups, handing one to Sabina with a quiet instruction. “Drink slowly. It keeps your hands occupied.”

Sabina accepts her cup, taking a quick sip. “It’s impressive how you do it.”

You cast her a small reassuring smile, petting her hand on your arm. “All practice, Sabi. Trust me, soon it’ll come as naturally to you as it does to me.”

She shakes her head softly, moving forward through the guests. “No, it’s not that. When you do it, it looks simple. Like you were born for this.”

With your eyes on the nobles around you, you say, “Thank you for the compliment, but I am born into this and so are you. Soon enough, you’ll handle it with ease. Just watch Marcus and me.”

Sabina nods silently, her steps quickening to match your pace as you lead her further into the hall. You come to stand before one of today's entertainments, beautiful exotic dancers. Their bodies move like water as they glide across the floor in a swirl of colors. As you two watch them, servants continue to offer delicacies, exotic fruits, pastries filled with honey, roasted meats sliced finely. You sample a bit of everything, savoring the fleeting pleasure of it.

As you take a small piece of a fruit you haven't heard from before, you nod subtly toward a woman standing near a pillar. "See Lady Amagus, the one in green? She’ll divorce her husband soon. He fathered a bastard with her youngest sister.”

Sabina’s eyes widen and she covers her mouth, momentarily forgetting to conceal her reaction. The shock fades quickly again. "By Jupiter... the humiliation."

You nod, your gaze following the woman. "I can’t imagine it. But she’s holding herself with outstanding grace despite it."

The two of you continue your way through the crowd, gossiping quietly as you walk. Eventually you stop near the archways leading to one of the many palace gardens. The fresh cool evening air is a welcome gift. You turn your back to the arches, enjoying the air brushing over your shoulders, your little sister quickly following suit.

Sabina leans in, her voice lowered as she speaks. “I’ve heard Julia Meranius will marry into House Heras. Not the son, but the father. Lady Heras just died and they’re already making wedding plans.”

You shake your head, your jaw tightening in disgust. "Tasteless. Makes you wonder if her illness was more than just a coincidence.” Sabina glares at you but you just shrug your shoulders. “Unfortunate, no less.”

The music changes and you allow yourself to breathe, savoring the cooling breeze that drifts through the heated hall. Unfortunately, the peace is short-lived, as from the corner of your eye, you catch Sabina’s gaze wandering, drifting upward to the side, to the golden dais.

The Emperors.

“Stop it.” You admonish her quietly, the calm mask on your face intact despite the warning in your tone. “It’s unwise to draw their notice.”

Sabina startles slightly, her eyes snapping back to the crowd immediately. “They look-” “Don’t.” You cut her off with a sharper edge, casting her a quick warning glare.

Your sister exhales softly, her lips pressing into a thin line as she lifts her cup, sipping in silence.

Shortly after your arrival, you’ve stolen a quick glance at them yourself, when moving through the crowd. You know what she was going to say.

That the twin emperors might as well be statues - cold, motionless, carved from arrogance itself. They can’t even bring themselves to feign interest in the spectacle before them.

You glance at Sabina, ensuring her focus remains elsewhere while your own thoughts betray you. War, death and bloodshed are known to be your ruler's true passions and it seems neither music nor wine can compare. True to their title, the mad twins. A name only uttered in the smallest of whispers in the darkest of Rome's corners.

With a slight shake of your head, you try to banish these traitorous thoughts. You’re not here to dwell on politics, that is reserved for your brother and father. You are here to enjoy the evening.

Sabinas' sudden firm grip on your arm quickly demands your attention. She leans closer to you. “Senator Domitianus just arrived.”

You take another slow sip of your wine, eyes flicking over to where the elderly senator stands. “Pay him no mind. He’s toothless. A few years left to live and even fewer alliances to call his own. In a few months, he’ll be nothing more than a whisper in the wind."

Sabina smiles faintly, her fingers tightening just slightly around your arm. It’s comforting in a way, this quiet understanding between you two. “Hold your head up high, Sabina. He will be soon forgotten, while we are still standing despite his efforts. We are proud and everyone shall see it.”

Up on the golden dais, the emperors still watch the growing crowd. Dundus is squeaking happily, performing tricks for his master, much to his delight.

Geta rolls his eyes, annoyed by the loud, little creature. Resting his head on his hand, he suppresses a sigh. This night really does feel endless, the music and chatter blending into a monotonous hum. His eyes wander over the dancers without much interest. He watches their performance for a moment, before a flicker of blue in his periphery catches his attention. At once his gaze shifts again, landing on the sisters he noticed earlier tonight.

The older sister stands out, not only in her appearance but in her demeanor. The woman in blue carries herself with effortless elegance, a composure that sets her apart from the peacocks who parade themselves before him and his brother. Unlike the other women in the hall, she seems unconcerned with drawing attention to herself, oozing quiet confidence as though she has nothing to prove.

“What do you think of them?” Geta asks, his voice low as he turns to his brother, though his gaze never leaves the sisters. “They seem out of place.”

Caracalla glances over at them, his face twisting into a smirk. “Which one caught your attention, the proud dove or the trembling chick?”

Geta’s lips twitch slightly but he didn’t look away. “The one in blue. There is something about her.”

“That so? And what would that be?” Caracalla asks, his eyes landing on the girls briefly again before looking back at the monkey. “She’s just some noble’s daughter, here to remind us that her family still exists. Probably hoping to secure a good match for herself or the skittish one by her side. And if you’re not careful, she’ll think you’re interested.”

As if sensing their eyes on her, the woman in blue turns her head slowly, her eyes sweeping the room until they nearly meet Geta’s. But before their gazes can lock, a familiar figure strides into the hall, stealing the emperor's attention.

“Fabius Verrinus.” Geta observes quietly, looking at his brother with a knowing grin. He straightens in lazy anticipation. “Finally, some entertainment.”

The brothers share a look of amusement. Senator Verrinus is infamous, known for his sharp mind and even sharper tongue. A man of the kind that thrives on attention and over the time the emperors have become eager spectators.

“Let’s see who he targets tonight,” Caracalla says, leaning forward with rekindled interest.

Verrinus exchanges a few words with a fellow senator when his gaze finds the two sisters. He pauses mid-sentence, his lips curving into a predatory smile. Geta's brows knit together, it seems the sisters haven’t only captured his interest.

The senator excuses himself, making his way towards the two women in purposeful strides. By the looks of it, the elder one notices him first, her posture tensing lightly in anticipation.

Verrinus' voice breaks though the music, loud enough to draw attention of the close by nobles. “Ah, the daughters of House Cassius! A vision, as always.”

The crowd parts slightly as he approaches the sisters. Fabius' voice is laced with honey but his smile fails to reach his eyes. “I must say it's quite surprising to see you in attendance tonight. I’ve heard your family is facing hard times. I heard your father struggles to keep his trading routes safe. Perhaps he should take notes from more capable men.”

His words are calculated, insults cloaked in feigned civility. The younger girl stiffens visibly, her wide eyes darting nervously between her sister and Fabius.

Caracalla chuckles quietly from his seat, leaning in to watch the exchange. “The little one looks like she’s about to cry.”

Geta ignores him, his eyes focused on the elder one. She is completely unmoved by Verrinus' words.

With a small step, she positions herself between the man and her sister, regarding the senator with a calm expression. “It is said that true nobility lies in enduring challenges with grace, my lord. Perhaps that is why my father commands respect, while others must resort to empty words to make themselves feel important.”

Geta arches an eyebrow, surprise evident in his face. Her boldness gains even more attention, subtle murmurs carry through the crowd of onlookers.

Verrinus' smile falters for a brief moment, his eyes narrowing at her. “Lady Y/N, surely you’ve heard about the rumors that your father-”

“Rumors,” she interrupts him, her tone smooth but direct. “Are like smoke, Senator. They may cloud the air for a time, but they vanish quickly when met with light. Only fools grasp at shadows in their search for relevance. It’s truly a blessing to know my family is above such things.”

The crowd’s whispers grow louder, encouraged by her eloquent retort. Verrinus opens his mouth to respond but before he can so much as utter a word, she silences him with a brilliant smile. “If you’ll excuse us, Senator. My sister and I would rather enjoy the tranquility of the garden than linger in such smoke.”

Without waiting for a response, she takes her sister’s arm and guides her through the archway to the garden, leaving Verrinus to stew in the bitter humiliation.

Caracalla bursts into laughter, clapping his hands once. “Oh, she’s good! Did you see his face? Like a fish gasping for air.”

Geta huffs a laugh, his gaze shifting briefly to his brother, then back to the archway where the sisters disappeared. Caracalla leans back, clapping his hands again. “That was entertaining. What did he say her name was?”

Geta gestures to a nearby squire. “The woman in blue, who is she?”

The squire bows deeply before answering. “That is Lady Y/N Cassius, Your Majesty. The oldest daughter of Senator Gaius Cassius. Their grandfather was a merchant who built the family’s fortune. Senator Cassius expanded their influence further before securing a seat in the Senate.”

“Merchants elevated to Patricians,” Caracalla sneers, his earlier respect dimming by the family's status. “Hardly remarkable.”

With his eyes lingeing on the archway to the gardens, Geta points out, “Remarkable enough to silence Verrinus,”

The squire explains further, “House Cassius faced challenges of late, but they are still highly respected by many.”

“Respected,” Geta repeats, deep in thought. “Yes, I see why.” He dismisses the squire with a wave of his hand. Leaning back slowly in his seat again, his expression turns unreadable.

He was no stranger to the name Cassius, the family isn’t unfamiliar but the woman herself is. Geta realizes now that he’s never truly encountered that woman before tonight. That in itself feels like a peculiar oversight on his part. How had he overlooked someone like her, surely he would have noticed her before tonight.

Caracalla's mind is already distracted again as he leans against the armrest, his little Dundus sitting on his shoulder. “You see that one over there?” He gestured idly toward a group of noblewomen, his voice dripping with indifference. “She’s been staring at me for the last hour. Desperate for attention, like the rest of them.”

Geta doesn't reply, his focus still drawn toward the garden. Verrinus' still standing off to the side, his face still flushed from embarrassment or rage, likely a combination of both. The man’s pride is clearly wounded and yet Geta feels no pity nor amusement. There is only a quiet, growing curiosity about the woman who had so effortlessly dismantled the most vicious man of the city.

“Are you even listening, brother?” Caracalla asks, tossing a grape towards him.

“Hm?” Geta responds absently.

Caracalla frowns at him, “Brooding about the girls, are you? Don’t waste your time.”

Geta’s expression remains impassive as he keeps silent, his mind still working. Their father is a senator and by the looks of it, his eldest daughter has more wit than half the Senate combined.

Eventually his eyes shortly move back to his brother before returning to the archways, “If her father’s political acumen matches her wit, House Cassius might prove useful.”

Caracalla laughs, loud enough to make a few nearby guests glance their way. “You always think in terms of politics, brother. Sometimes a woman is just a woman.”

“Sometimes, yes,” Geta agrees quietly. “But not this one.”

Caracalla laughs again, even louder this time. “And what of it? Haven’t you seen that little sister? That girl looked like a frightened fawn. I’ll take her, she seems easy to break. You can have the sharp-tongued one.”

Geta rolls his eyes, his tone dry. “How magnanimous of you.”

Caracalla only grins. “Her tongue will be the death of her. Verrinus won’t forget this. A shame, really. She’d make an entertaining court jester.”

“Or a useful ally,” Geta muses, swirling his wine thoughtfully.

“So? Are you going to sit there brooding all night, or are you going to follow her?” Caracalla teases lightly before tossing a grape into his mouth. “You look like a dog sniffing after a bone.”

“Unlike you, brother,” Geta finally tears his gaze away to meet Caracalla’s amused expression, “I don’t make a habit of chasing every pretty face. And I certainly don’t declare my intentions aloud in the presence of the entire court.”

Caracalla laughs, unbothered by the bait. “Oh, come now, Geta. Admit it - you’re intrigued. The noble merchant’s daughter, standing tall amidst the wolves. It’s practically a tale out of one of those tragic love poems you pretend not to enjoy.”

Geta ignores the jab about poetry, but his curiosity is undeniable. Caracalla's eyes met him again. “But don’t let it distract you from the reality of who we are.”

“And what’s that?” Geta asks, his annoyance clear in his tone.

“Gods,” Caracalla states simply, flashing a sharp grin. “And gods don’t chase mortal girls, no matter how clever they are.”

Geta drains his goblet, setting it down with a decisive clink. Rising from his seat, he adjusts the folds of his imperial robe.

“Oh, so you are going after her,” Caracalla drawls, leaning back with a smug grin. “Be careful, Geta. That rose seems to have thorns.”

Geta doesn’t spare his brother another glance, as he descends the dais. “I’d rather deal with thorns than another evening listening to you.”

The moon is rising behind the horizon, casting its brilliant silver glow across the sprawling opulent gardens of the imperial palace.

You dare to take a deep breath, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart. Verrinus is such a coward. Instead of searching the confrontation he so clearly wished for with your father he chose the assumed easier opponent.

A mistake, clearly. Your father was a good teacher and you an even better student. Still, the confrontation was nerve racking and unnecessary. The rivalry between your two families shouldn't be so open on display.

“That was impressive.” Your little sister beams at you, awe reflecting in her eyes. “He was stunned into silence.”

You two come to stand in front of a marble fountain. You lean against the cool stone lightly, before addressing your concerns. “Father will have a wonderful time in the Forum next time.”

Sabina looks at you with a small smile, petting your shoulder. “But what else could we have done? Ignore him? Surly Father will understand.”

Of course he will but that doesn’t make it any easier. Verrinus is a man who holds grudges. Father will not be thrilled. This will have consequences.

“On another note,” Sabina’s smile grows, “Did mother tell you about her recent encounter with Verrinus' ex-wife?”

Getas' feet take him slowly through the garden, following where the sisters had disappeared earlier. The feast is still lively, the music and laughter echoing in the distance but the Emperor doesn’t take notice. His eyes are set onto the two figures in the middle of the garden.

His pace slows down as he watches the sisters. The younger one is grinning brightly, gesturing wildly as she tells a story. The older one, Y/N as he has learned, listens attentively. The soft blue seems more lavender now, shimmering in the pale light. Her face, shining with a genuine smile, looks like a painting brought to life. Beautiful.

She seems to notice eyes on her, her head turning towards him. In an instant the smile is gone, replaced by the expression of careful composure he came to admire earlier tonight.

“Lady Y/N,” Geta greets, his voice smooth but edged with curiosity. “A word?”

You dip into a respectful curtsy, your heart taking on speed again. Sabina quickly follows suit, though her gaze carefully darts around, as though searching for potential onlookers.

“Your Majesty,” you greet him back, tone carefully measured despite the storm in your chest. “I hope you are enjoying your feast.”

“I was,” Geta lies, his expression unreadable. “But I couldn’t help but notice you earlier. Not many would dare speak to Verrinus in such a way. You have a sharp tongue, though you wield it well. It’s rare to see such grace under pressure.”

Your heart keeps pounding violently in your chest, fearing guests might taking note of this exchange. With a tight smile on your lips, you reply, “Your Majesty is too kind.”

Geta steps closer, his attention fully on the woman in front of him. “And now I find myself wondering why I have not seen you before tonight.”

“You have, Your Majesty,” you dare to correct him carefully, “I am a rare attendant to the court but we were introduced at the Colosseum some years ago, though I wouldn’t expect you to remember. There are many faces demanding your attention. It would be understandable if mine was forgotten.”

Geta’s brow arches, the response only deepening his curiosity. “I assure you, Lady Y/N, your face is not one I would forget.”

His tone is almost playful but there is a weight behind his words that makes you feel even more on edge. “I am honored by your kindness, Your Majesty, but it is likely true. After all, I am one of many.”

Sabinas' eyes move toward a group of men lingering near the garden entrance, Fabius Verrinus among them. She subtly touches your wrist, a silent warning.

Your expression hardened ever so slightly, as you caught the men in the corner of your eye as well. Quickly you return your focus back to the Emperor. “I am honored to have spoken to you, Augustus, but I don’t want to keep you from the feast for too long. Surely you have more pressing matters than to concern yourself with a mere daughter of House Cassius.”

Geta’s eyes narrow subtly. Why does he get the feeling she is trying to leave? At the realization, his voice hardens, “I decide what matters concern me, Lady Y/N. And at this moment, you do.”

Your sister shifts nervously and you place a reassuring hand on her arm. “I am flattered by your attention, but surely it is misplaced.” You attempt a soft laugh. “I doubt I am deserving of it.”

Getas' jaw clenches faintly, “I disagree. You’ve spoken of the arena, do you attend often?”

“Always.” You tell him, a genuine small smile cracking through your mask. “I have never missed a game since my father became senator. I find the games to be fascinating.”

“Fascinating?” The Emperor repeats, intrigued. “Most noblewomen I know prefer the banquets to the arena. Why do you favor the games?”

You hesitate, sensing the weight of his curiosity. “The arena is a place of stories, of triumphs and tragedies. It shows the strength and spirit of Rome and it reminds us of the cost of greatness.”

Slowly Sabina takes your arm, applying soft pressure. A few nobles decided to take a stroll in the garde as well, although they are out of earshot, their discreet glances don't escape the young Cassius.

Your back straightens instinctively. “The hour grows late and I fear we’ve already taken too much of your time, Augustus. With your permission, my sister and I will return to the palace to find our father.”

“You seem eager to leave.” Geta observes, his voice calm but with an edge of suspicion. He steps forward, blocking her path slowly, a silent challenge. He watches her for any crumb of reaction, anything that might shatter her controlled composure.

“Not at all, Your Majesty,” You sling your arm around your sisters, offering a casual smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “But my sister tires easily. It would be remiss of me not to see her safely back to our father.”

Sabina is about to open her mouth to speak, ready to elaborate on the excuse but you subtly squeeze her arm, silencing her before she can undo your carefully chosen words.

Geta’s jaw tightens as he considers the women, his piercing gaze flickering between the two. That little one didn’t look the least bit tired only a few moments ago. A very poor excuse, one Geta recognizes for what it is: a dismissal.

He is the emperor. He does not get dismissed.

Hot frustration blooms in Geta’s chest at her defiance. He considers insisting her to stay, forcing her to remain in his presence, but something about her makes him hesitate.

He has the power to make her yield, to bend her will with a single order. Yet, for now, he lets it go. With a controlled breath, he eventually steps aside, allowing them to pass. “Good night, Lady Cassius.”

The two sisters bow down again in unison, wishing him a good night as well, before walking towards the palace.

The moment you move past him, your grip on your sister’s arm tightens like a vice. With swift, elaborate steps, you steer her back towards the archways. She is about to look back over her shoulder but you tug her forward.

“Move,” you almost bark under your breath, the pressure of the night’s interactions finally catching up to you.

Sabina, despite it, leans in closer, her voice teasingly soft, “He’s handsome.”

With slightly hurried steps, you return to the Atrium, your grip is unrelenting, “I’ve noticed.”

Geta stands still, rooted in place with his mood souring as he watches the women leave. The bitter taste of rejection lingering on his tongue. All the women in the atrium would fall over themselves for his attention, desperate for any scrap of it, but not her.

She evadied him at every turn, so politely and as elegantly, it wasn’t just frustrating - this was fascinating. For a brief, aching moment, Geta is consumed by the thought. But then it shifts into something darker, something sharper. He knows he will see her again. And when he does, he’ll make sure she won't slip through his grasp again so easily.

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reaper2187 · 3 days ago

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Holiday special : Caitlyn kiramman x female reader

The snowfall outside softly blanketed the streets of Piltover, muffling the usual hustle and bustle of the city. Inside Caitlyn Kiramman’s cozy apartment, the atmosphere was anything but calm. Boxes of ornaments and tangled strings of lights were scattered across the floor, a clear sign of the holiday spirit Caitlyn had wholeheartedly embraced. Y/N stood in the corner, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold with a mixture of bemusement and discomfort.

“Y/N, can you please pass me that garland?” Caitlyn’s voice was chipper, her hands deftly unraveling a string of fairy lights. She didn’t even look up from her task.

Y/N raised an eyebrow and gestured vaguely at the pile of decorations. “Which one is the garland?”

Caitlyn paused, her lips quirking into an amused smile. She glanced over her shoulder at Y/N, who stood awkwardly amidst the festive chaos. “The green one that looks like it’s made of pine needles.”

With a sigh, Y/N reached down, picking up the garland and holding it out like it might bite her. Caitlyn laughed softly as she took it from Y/N’s hands, her fingers brushing against the taller woman’s rougher ones.

“You’re really not into Christmas, are you?” Caitlyn asked, her tone light but curious.

Y/N shrugged, her stoic expression softening slightly as she glanced out the window at the falling snow. “Never really celebrated it. Just another day to me.”

Caitlyn’s smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly masked it with her usual determination. “Well, that just means I’ll have to make this one extra special. Maybe you’ll change your mind about the holidays.”

Y/N gave a noncommittal grunt, her eyes scanning the room. She’d always been more comfortable in the shadows, in the chaos of Zaun’s underbelly, or even in the heat of battle. This…this domesticity was foreign to her. But Caitlyn, with her infectious energy and warm smile, made it bearable—even enjoyable, though Y/N would never admit that out loud.

“Here, help me with the lights,” Caitlyn said, holding up a long strand of twinkling bulbs. “We’ll hang them around the window.”

Y/N hesitated but eventually took one end of the lights. Together, they worked in a comfortable silence, Caitlyn giving occasional instructions while Y/N did her best to follow them. Despite her initial reluctance, Y/N found herself getting drawn into the task. The lights cast a warm glow across the room, reflecting in Caitlyn’s bright blue eyes as she stepped back to admire their handiwork.

“Perfect,” Caitlyn said, a satisfied smile on her face.

Y/N’s lips twitched into a small smirk. “Not bad.”

Caitlyn turned to face her, a teasing glint in her eyes. “See? You’re already getting into the spirit.”

Y/N snorted softly, her arms crossing over her broad chest. “Don’t push it, Kiramman.”

They continued decorating, Caitlyn’s cheerful chatter filling the room. Y/N found herself surprisingly at ease, her usual guarded demeanor slipping away in the warmth of Caitlyn’s presence. When they hung the ornaments on the tree, Caitlyn insisted on handing Y/N the most ridiculous ones, like a glitter-covered poro and a miniature cupcake. Y/N rolled her eyes but placed them on the tree without complaint, earning a delighted grin from Caitlyn.

As they worked, Caitlyn retrieved a small sprig of greenery with white berries tied with a red ribbon. She held it up, her smile mischievous. “And this,” she said, “is the finishing touch.”

Y/N tilted her head, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s that?”

Caitlyn’s grin widened. “Mistletoe. It’s a holiday tradition. You hang it up, and if two people find themselves underneath it, they…well, they…”

Y/N’s brow furrowed. “They what?”

Caitlyn hesitated, her cheeks tinged with a faint pink. “They…kiss,” she said softly, her eyes flickering to Y/N’s face.

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, a rare moment of surprise breaking through her usually stoic expression. “Why?”

Caitlyn laughed, the sound light and melodic. “It’s just a tradition. It’s supposed to be romantic.”

Y/N’s gaze shifted to the mistletoe, then back to Caitlyn. Her mind worked quickly, processing the information. “So if someone’s under that thing, they’re expected to kiss whoever’s with them?”

“That’s the idea,” Caitlyn said, her voice a little quieter now, her cheeks growing pinker under Y/N’s steady gaze.

Y/N nodded slowly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Seems like a strange tradition.”

Caitlyn laughed again, nervously this time. She moved to hang the mistletoe above the doorway, stretching onto her toes. “It’s harmless fun,” she said, her voice slightly strained as she tried to reach.

Without a word, Y/N stepped forward, taking the mistletoe from Caitlyn’s hands. Their fingers brushed, and Caitlyn’s breath hitched. Y/N easily reached up and secured the sprig above the doorway, her height making the task effortless.

When she stepped back, she found Caitlyn standing directly beneath the mistletoe, looking up at her with a mixture of nervousness and something else Y/N couldn’t quite place.

“So, does that mean we’re supposed to…” Y/N trailed off, her voice unusually tentative.

Caitlyn’s eyes searched Y/N’s face, her lips curving into a soft smile. “Only if you want to,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N’s heart thudded in her chest, a sensation she wasn’t accustomed to. She’d faced danger and death countless times without flinching, but standing here, under a sprig of mistletoe with Caitlyn Kiramman, she felt…uncertain.

Caitlyn stepped closer, her hand lightly brushing against Y/N’s arm. “It’s okay if you don’t,” she said, her voice gentle. “I just…I wanted you to feel included. To feel like you’re part of something.”

Y/N’s gaze softened, her usual stoicism giving way to something more vulnerable. She looked down at Caitlyn, her voice quiet but steady. “I already do.”

For a moment, they stood there, the room silent except for the faint hum of the fairy lights. Then, slowly, Y/N leaned down, her lips brushing softly against Caitlyn’s. The kiss was brief, almost hesitant, but it held a depth of emotion that words couldn’t convey.

When they pulled apart, Caitlyn’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining with happiness. Y/N’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile, a rare sight that Caitlyn couldn’t help but admire.

“Maybe this holiday isn’t so bad,” Y/N said, her voice low but warm.

Caitlyn laughed softly, her hand slipping into Y/N’s. “I’ll make a Christmas lover out of you yet.”

Y/N chuckled, a sound that was both surprising and comforting. “Don’t push your luck.”

As the snow continued to fall outside, the two of them stood together, their hands entwined and the warmth of the season wrapping around them like a comforting embrace. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt a sense of peace, a feeling of belonging she hadn’t known she’d been missing. And it was all thanks to Caitlyn and her relentless holiday spirit.

Happy holiday y'all. Hope you all had good holidays. Do leave a comment and if you guys have any requests do tell me. BYEEEEEEE

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bingbongsupremacy · 1 day ago

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Surprise Boyfriend

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Plus size reader

Warning: Cursing, mentions that reader is plus size but doesn't emphasises, insecurities

Summary: You're in love with Eddie but he doesn't like you back. Right? You're just friends. That's why it's so surprising when he asks to meet your parents.

*Not Proof Read*

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I’m not sure when things started to change between Eddie and me. We've been friends for a while, hanging out after school, talking about everything from Dungeons & Dragons to heavy metal. We joke around, complain about the crazy world around us, and escape to our own little bubble where things just make sense. But lately? It feels different.

Eddie’s always been a little flirty with me. It's just his nature. He’s got that sarcastic charm that comes with being an all-around badass—a wild, untamed guy that everyone notices. His long, messy hair, the leather jacket he always wears, his constant rock ‘n’ roll vibe, and, of course, the undeniable smirk that’s always on his face. I never really thought much of it. We’re friends. He’s just Eddie being Eddie. But now? I’m starting to wonder if there’s more to it.

The way he looks at me sometimes. The way his arm casually drapes around my shoulders when we sit close. The way he holds my hand, like it’s something natural, like we’ve been doing it forever.

But then I remember—Eddie’s the kind of guy who’s into wild, pretty girls. Not… well, not me. I’m not thin, I’m not what everyone expects. I’ve got extra weight, and I always feel like I’m the last person someone like Eddie would ever want to date. He’s got a reputation to uphold, after all, and I’m just his friend. Nothing more.

It’s a Saturday, and we’re lying on Eddie’s bed again, watching one of those cheesy 80s slasher flicks. We’ve been here for hours, the room filled with the scent of old pizza and the faint smell of smoke from the joint we shared earlier. Eddie’s strumming his guitar quietly in the corner, the soft music blending with the sounds of the TV. He’s so comfortable here, and for the first time in a long while, I feel relaxed too.

"So..." Eddie glances over at me, his eyes mischievous. “When am I gonna meet your parents?”

My heart skips a beat, and I turn to face him, unsure of what he’s getting at. “What?” I ask, the word coming out a little more confused than I intended.

“You know,” he says, still grinning. “I feel like I’ve spent enough time with you, your friends, and your—well, your extended family. What about the folks? When do I get to meet them?”

I blink, unsure if he’s joking or being serious. “Eddie, what the hell? Why would you need to meet my parents?”

He sits up, running a hand through his messy hair, his expression turning slightly more serious, but there’s still a playful edge to it. “Because, Y/N, I’m your boyfriend.”

I laugh a little, but then I catch the look in his eyes. He’s not joking. Or at least, he doesn’t seem to think he’s joking. My breath catches in my throat. “Boyfriend?” I repeat, barely able to hide the confusion in my voice.

Eddie chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Y/N, come on. We’ve been going on dates for months. I even took you to that picnic last weekend, remember? We smoked a little weed, and I bought you dinner afterward. That’s a date, sweetheart. Plus I invite you to my shows and then dinner afterward. I consider that a date.”

I swallow hard. Oh god. I didn’t realize that’s what that was. I thought we were just hanging out, just… being us. I mean, Eddie’s invited people to see his band before, so I just assumed this was another one of those things. He’s always friendly to everyone. And yeah, we’ve shared some quiet moments together, but I never thought it meant what he clearly thinks it does.

“But you invite everyone to your shows, Eddie,” I say, trying to explain myself, my voice trembling a little. “I thought you were just being nice, like you always are. Like, friendly Eddie.”

He narrows his eyes at me, leaning in a little closer. “I’m always nice, sure. But I don't pay for everyone's dinner. Being nice isn't the same thing as asking someone on a date, is it?” He gives me a pointed look, clearly a little frustrated.

I chew on my lip, still unsure of what I’m missing. “I don’t know, Eddie,” I say quietly. “I just thought… we were friends.”

He grins, his usual cocky charm returning. “I thought we were more than that. I mean, come on. We’ve been holding hands, sharing this bed, watching movies together. You’re practically my girlfriend without all the labels.”

I feel a warmth spread across my cheeks as I glance down at my hands. He’s right—we’ve been close. Really close. But I never thought of it in those terms. I’m not used to being the girl who gets that kind of attention. Especially not from someone like Eddie.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whisper. “I didn’t realize you felt that way. I didn’t think you wanted to be with me.”

Eddie gently takes my hand, squeezing it softly. “Why wouldn’t I want to be with you? You’re incredible. You’ve been there for me, Y/N. You come to all my shows, you cheer me on like you’re my biggest fan. You support me—like a girlfriend would. I thought you knew.”

I feel my heart pounding in my chest. Does he really feel that way about me?

The weight of his words settles on me, and I begin to understand. He’s been there for me too, in his own way. He’s always included me, always been there to make me laugh, always made sure I felt important. I start to realize that maybe I’ve been blind to what’s been right in front of me this whole time.

“We’ve been hanging out so much,” I say, a little embarrassed, “I just thought it was normal. I mean, I never thought you were asking me out. I thought you were just… being Eddie.”

Eddie smiles, the tenderness in his eyes making my chest tighten. “I get it,” he says. “But I’ve been asking you out, Y/N. We’ve been going on dates. I don’t do this with anyone else, you know. It’s always been you.”

I nod, trying to process everything. The hand-holding, the moments when he pulls me closer when we’re sitting next to each other, the way he makes sure I’m always part of whatever he’s doing. He’s been showing me, in his own way, that he cares.

“You’re right,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I just… I didn’t know. I didn’t realize.”

Eddie brushes a lock of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle, and I can’t help but melt into it. “Well, now you do,” he says softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

I smile, feeling something shift between us. Maybe I’ve been blind to it all along. Maybe I was the one who didn’t see what was right there in front of me. But now I do. And somehow, knowing that Eddie really does want to be with me makes everything feel right.

As Eddie leans back, his arm sliding across my shoulders, I feel like maybe—just maybe—I’m finally seeing things clearly. And I can’t help but wonder what the next step for us is.

#x you #x reader #x female reader #stranger things x reader #xreader #x chubby reader #fanfiction #fanfic #stranger things #x eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #x fat reader #x plus size reader

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hazzashouse · 19 hours ago

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The Weight of a Name

Author’s Note: This was my first attempt at writing for Anthony Bridgerton, and I loved delving into his intensity and passion. I’m considering writing a part two—let me know if you’d like to see where this story goes!

Triggers: Emotional confrontation, feelings of rejection, societal pressure

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,703

Summary: When Anthony Bridgerton’s relentless pursuit of you reaches its breaking point, a fiery confrontation reveals the depths of his feelings.

The soft hum of violins and lilting laughter echoed throughout the ballroom. It was a scene of perfection, one carefully orchestrated by the host to impress even the most critical members of the ton. You moved with grace, your every step measured and deliberate, but your mind was far from composed.

Anthony Bridgerton was watching you.

You had felt his eyes on you all evening, and no matter how hard you tried to shake the weight of his gaze, it lingered. It wasn’t just that he watched—it was the way he looked at you. As if he already had you. As if his claim was inevitable.

But Anthony Bridgerton wasn’t the kind of man you trusted easily. His reputation was whispered about behind fans and through veiled glances. He was handsome, yes, and powerful, but he was also dangerous. The stories of his past were enough to make even the boldest debutantes wary.

You had no intention of falling for a man like him.

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Later that evening, you had sought refuge on the balcony, eager for a moment of quiet. The cool air kissed your skin as you inhaled deeply, savoring the temporary escape. But your peace was short-lived.

“You’re avoiding me.”

The low, irritated voice made you stiffen. You turned to find Anthony standing just beyond the balcony doors, his jaw set and his dark eyes locked on you.

“I wasn’t aware I was obligated to seek you out,” you replied evenly, though your voice betrayed a hint of exasperation.

Anthony stepped closer, his movements deliberate. “You know precisely what I mean,” he said, his tone clipped. “I’ve been trying to speak with you all evening, but you’ve been too busy entertaining every other man in this room.”

Your temper flared, and you straightened your spine. “Perhaps that’s because every other man in this room doesn’t believe he has some divine right to my attention.”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed, and he took another step closer. “Is that truly what you think of me?” he asked, his voice low but seething.

“What else am I to think?” you shot back, your voice rising. “You stride into every room as if the world should bow at your feet, as if no one could possibly resist the great Viscount Bridgerton. Well, I’m not one of your conquests, my lord, and I won’t be treated as such.”

Anthony’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing. But then he stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a near-growl. “You think I’m trying to conquer you? That this is some sort of game to me? I have been chasing you for months. I’ve ignored every other debutante, turned down every match my mother has pushed my way, and still, you look at me as if I’m nothing more than a rogue.”

Your chest heaved as his words hit their mark. “And why shouldn’t I?” you demanded, your voice trembling with emotion. “Do you deny it? Do you deny the countless women, the scandalous liaisons, the reputation you’ve so carefully crafted? How am I to believe you would ever honor a vow made to me when you’ve broken so many others?”

Anthony flinched, and for a moment, his mask slipped. There was pain in his eyes, a vulnerability you hadn’t expected. “I am not proud of my past,” he said quietly. “But you—you’ve made me want to be better. To be more than what they say I am.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “And I’m supposed to believe that? Because you’ve paid me a few compliments and danced with me a handful of times? Forgive me, my lord, but I’ve seen how easily you charm others. I won’t be another name on your list.”

Anthony’s temper snapped, and he grabbed your wrist—not harshly, but firmly enough to stop you from walking away. “You don’t understand what you’re doing to me,” he said, his voice rough and urgent. “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t think of anything but you. Every time I see you with another man, it feels like a knife to my chest. And yet, you look at me as if I’m nothing, as if I’m unworthy of even your consideration.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. His grip on your wrist softened, and he took a step back, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he continued, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “To feel so completely undone by someone. To want them so desperately, so utterly, and to know they see you as nothing more than a mistake waiting to happen.”

Your eyes stung with unshed tears, but you refused to let them fall. “Do you think this is easy for me?” you asked, your voice cracking. “Do you think I enjoy rejecting you, knowing I might be giving up on something—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “But I can’t ignore the part of me that’s terrified you’ll hurt me. That I’ll wake up one day and realize I was nothing more than a passing infatuation to you.”

Anthony stared at you, his chest heaving. “You think I would hurt you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “After everything I’ve done to prove myself to you?”

“What have you done, Anthony?” you demanded, your voice rising again. “You’ve watched me from across ballrooms and interrupted my dances, but have you ever truly shown me who you are? Or are you still hiding behind the charm and arrogance that the ton has come to expect from you?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Anthony’s jaw clenched, and his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You’re right,” he said finally, his voice trembling with restraint. “You don’t know who I am. But that’s because you’ve never given me the chance to show you.”

Your heart ached at the raw emotion in his voice, but you refused to back down. “Perhaps I would have, if I believed you were capable of being the man I need.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But then he stepped back, his expression hardening into one of cold resolve. “You’ll regret this,” he said quietly, his voice laced with both pain and anger. “You’ll regret not taking the chance when you had it.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone on the balcony with your heart pounding and your hands shaking.

As you stared after him, a single thought echoed in your mind.

Had you made a mistake?

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To Be Continued?

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circeyoru · 2 days ago

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Shell of What’s Left Behind *Alternate End*

[Traumatized!Sung Jinwoo x Former Close Friend!Reader]

Ask —Main Story — Alternate End (here) + Silly Comic

**Note: This is the alternative ending to the story, but you can see this as a continuation end if you want a good/happy end or just some comfort for the angst. I say "Alternate" cause the main story's end is the true end, but you guys choose your preferred end~ (still gotta read the main story though)

When the time came and time was reversed, Jinwoo sought you out immediately. The horrors he endured and will endure would all be worth it if you were back. It was a weekend, so you’d be at the park playing. So he rushed there. He huffed as he scanned the playground for you.

There, in the crowd of noisy children, was you smiling and laughing. You were mature enough to wait for your turn and even put your hand out when a nearby kid was nearly falling or just running too close to you. You’d still put others before yourself. Even at such a young age.

Jinwoo held back and calmly walked over to you.

You greeted him first, “Hi there!”

“Hey.” Jinwoo collapsed on you.

“Woah there!” You caught him a bit flustered and nearly falling over. Your gaze, clouded with shock, turned to concern when you noticed his exhaustion. You opted to push the questions to another time and looked around for a place where you could let him rest.

After setting your sights on a shaded area, you dragged the boy over while hugging him by the waist and his chin on your shoulder. You sat down comfortably, leaning against the bark of the tree and readjusted the boy so he was laying his head in your lap. You hummed softly, your hand placed over his chest and the other combing through his hair.

A giggle escaped your lips as you gazed down at his resting self. “You’re so weird.” Your eyes looked back to the playground where kids and their parents were doing their business, a strange sense of serenity and peace washed over you. Even the stranger resting on you brought you a familiar sense of protectiveness and worry. “So weird…”

Out of sight, Beru and Igris watched the peaceful interaction with relief. Everyone else in the Realm of Eternal Rest cheered for the proper and beautiful reunion of their Liege’s love.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Jinwoo questioned as he saw you poking your food, “Waiting for me?” He placed his meal beside you and sat down. “So nice of you.”

You groaned and leaned against him, “No…” You pouted as memories came up, “You know I have a biology elective and just… Eww…” You shivered, “The teacher showed us a clip about parasitic life forms and how they function.”

As you started sharing, you didn’t notice Jinwoo’s flinch as his particular memories were brought up.

“The way these things control the host’s brain and act similar, then killing the host slowly is so cruel. Well, there are different types but I hate the zombie one. This parasite just goes into a living body and control that host’s life. Can you imagine if a human was- Jinwoo?!”

Your boyfriend hugged your form close to him, so tightly as if you’d disappear if he let go. His face buried between your neck and shoulder, and his larger hand covered the back of your head. You returned his hug and patted his back. You didn’t say anything and let the moment go, sometimes waving to your passing friends or his that gave the two of you snickers or dirty teasing looks.

Not sure when, but you have noticed Jinwoo carried something with him—something he has yet to share with you. You could tell he wanted to but could never bring himself to, even after returning from his disappearance two years ago. You’d notice that look he gave you: worry, longing, pity, and the worst one was guilt. You can’t recall when he wronged you, so you couldn’t understand where it all stemmed from.

Still, you’re not one to push.

“Is everything okay?” You asked when Jinwoo released you.

Jinwoo’s stare at you was hazed and fuzzy. You were right in front of him, healthy and alive, living as you would. Yet, from time to time, that form of you being taken over by that parasitic monster would pop up like a hologram that haunted his mind.

There were so many red flags. Too many to count. But they were there. It felt like he let that monster defile your body and mind. To disrupt your peace.

Īⱦ ⱳⱥꞩ ħīꞩ ӻⱥᵾłⱦ.

“Sung Jinwoo!” You squeezed his face with your hands, your eyebrows furrowed, and a cute angered face of his love was before him.

“Ah, sorry.” Jinwoo snapped out of it and smiled embarrassingly.

“Good, now that you’re back to normal…” You hugged him by the neck with one arm, then another that pointed in a direction. He followed your finger and flinched, his face in complete shock. Before he could get a word out, you shook him to the point he was seeing triple―or more―of everything around him. “What are those giant creatures that keep cheering for us!? And why is there a giant statue of us!?”

Right… The Realm of Eternal Rest… And the two of you were sitting at the fountain with a perfect view of that statue his Shadows created since the day he reunited with you. He must have accidentally pulled you into his realm because of his uncontrolled emotions. This is as good of a time to tell you then.

“Right, the thing is…” Jinwoo chuckled awkwardly, avoiding your glare.

“The Queen is here!”

“All hail the Liege’s beloved!”

“Yeahhhhhhhhhh!”

While you were overwhelmed with the cheers and screams of Jinwoo’s Shadows and other giant creatures, you stuck close to Jinwoo and tried to have him explain the situation. Your attention shifted from shaking Jinwoo to the clacking of metal coming closer. You looked over and saw a tall knight coated from head to toe in black armour with neon purple lining.

The knight kneeled before you and Jinwoo, his voice firm and assertive. “Welcome to the Realm of Eternal Rest. I swear to protect My Liege’s friend and lover till the end of time. This time, this vow is sealed.”

Jinwoo looked at you from the corner of his eyes, observing silently. Back then, he assigned Igris to protect you, but it turned out it was a fake you that he was too blind to see through. It was Igris’ reluctance to protect you after he first gained his voice; he didn’t care for how His Lord and allies wronged him, but he defended your honour and exposed the truth. Hence, that night happened where his knight killed the parasite and freed your body.

You were spellbound, an expression that was hard to tell what you were thinking. “It’s weird, I somehow feel… gratitude towards you… Have we maybe met somewhere before?”

Igris looked up. For a brief moment, like a trick of the light, a look of cruelty and animosity overshadowed your expression. He tilted his head down, taking a moment to compose himself before meeting your gaze again. Right, this was the real you, not the you that was used by a parasite to cause harm to his Lord. “I have been by your side for a long time, at My Liege’s command.”

You clapped your hands together, “Oh! That’s why. I guess you protected me from crazy stalkers or something. Thanks!” You smiled at the loyal knight. “In that case, I’ll be in your care once more.”

“I, too, swear to keep any harm from coming to you! As My Liege’s lover, it is only natural!” Beru quite literally burst into the frame.

“My Liege?” You gave Jinwoo a teasing look and a raised brow.

Jinwoo looked away and mumbled, “Don’t copy him…”

You laughed with a bright smile, cupping Jinwoo’s cheeks and showed it to his crowd of onlookers. “Tell me everything about your Liege! Leave nothing behind! I especially wanna hear the cheeky and embarrassing ones!”

“Hey!” Jinwoo glared at you, but you only responded by squishing his cheeks together to make his complaints incoherent.

Igris watched behind his helmet; the play between His Lord and you was like that of a fairy tale. That smile that looked more natural and divine. That laughter that came from true innocent joy. Whatever expression that parasite used to gain power and sympathy was all in the past. So long as His Liege, him and the rest of the Shadow Army stand, no harm will come to you or threaten your pure smile.

“Yes, My Queen.”

Note: Ta da~~ Now this is over~~ Beru's scenes are added AFTER I saw what @vereimeja drew for me in the inbox. Kudos to them~~ Otherwise, everything's the same really. Thanks for joining this story, even though it's heavy angst.

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: @mydearestbeloved @icefox8155 @loudlylovingcreator-blog @o-qi-shisme @vereimeja @shineinouzen15 @crxscnt @lovelietaciturn @cottonbeeeeeeee

#Circe's Nighty Writings #Circe's requested writings #Solo Leveling #Only I Can Level Up #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling jinwoo #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo #Shell of What’s Left Behind

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ohbueckers · 9 hours ago

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HEART OF A WOMAN. push the reset button we’re becoming something new.

10, CHAPTER TEN. THE RESET BUTTON.

ju speaks. it’s the end. i want to thank everyone so so so much for supporting this story and seeing through it lol. your comments, reblogs, everything you leave in my inbox… it all means so much to me despite half of you being upset most of the time (i get it, nai & paige are very insufferable lmao). NOWWW we can discuss bonus chaps! what do we wanna see? requests are also officially open until i start the next series so i’d totally appreciate some of those as well! pairing. paige bueckers x fem!oc. warnings. bittersweet ending?

present day, august 2025.

i leaned against a wall, arms crossed, trying to act like i wasn’t two seconds from pacing a hole into the floor. the gainbridge fieldhouse was sold out—players shouting, sneakers squeaking on the court, a crowd somewhere above us hyped up and ready for the all-star game.

i should’ve been hyped too. this was my moment. the paige bueckers all-star debut. rookie year, voted in, the whole thing. i’d made it, right?

except, instead of soaking it all in, i was standing in this stupid tunnel, staring at the floor like it had answers. the floor wasn’t talking back, obviously, but it was easier to look at than the people walking past.

“it’s p boogers!”

i looked up just in time to see kk bouncing down the tunnel like she owned the place, azzi trailing behind her with an amused look on her face. “bruh.” i groaned, dragging a hand down my face, but i couldn’t stop the grin creeping in. “we’re not doing that today.” kk was decked out in my all-star jersey, two sizes too big on purpose, and azzi had gone with the team-issued merch.

kk is definitely a good cheer-up method, and i know azzi brought her here on purpose. she knows me, that’s for sure.

“nah, we are,” kk shot back, spinning around to show off her jersey. my jersey. “see this? i’m your biggest fan. autographs are fifty bucks, by the way.”

“you mean my autograph?” i deadpanned, pushing off the wall to meet them halfway.

“nah, mine,” she said, smirking. “i make this look good.”

“yeah, right!” i scoffed with a laugh, pulling her into a quick hug before turning to azzi. “y’all are early.”

“yeah, cam said you’d be back here,” azzi replied, tucking her hands into her jacket pockets. her calmness somehow always made me feel like i needed to explain myself, even when i wasn’t doing anything wrong.

“so… you stalking me now?” i asked, raising an eyebrow. i knew where i was supposed to be. they knew where i was supposed to be. probably not by myself so close to tip-off, that’s for sure.

“not stalk,” kk corrected, already grinning. “just… strategically locate.”

“spell strategically.”

“girl—“

she lunges at me, and i flinch, stepping back with a wide grin. “next time, give me a heads-up so i can, like, actually hide!”

azzi rolled her eyes but smiled. “we just wanted to see you before the game started. make sure you’re not pulling a KD and going ghost or something.”

“why would i do that?” i gestured to myself with mock offense. “i’m the picture of composure right now.”

“right,” azzi dragged the word out, smirking like she didn’t buy it for a second. “feels like forever since we’ve watched you play.” and it hit me again—harder this time.

forever. yeah.

i rubbed the back of my neck, forcing another smile. “yeah, it’s been a minute.” she wasn’t asking to dig—she never did—but she was always good at reading between the lines. and in this case, the line was obvious. it hadn’t been that long.

only a minute since they’d seen me. a minute since i’d seen nai.

well, no. i’d seen her. we couldn’t exactly avoid each other. our jobs made sure of that, but i wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad thing. i mean, seeing her makes it easier, right? gets the pain of it all over with. except it didn’t. it didn’t fill the space that felt empty whenever we weren’t talking. seeing her, hearing her laugh, watching her avoid my eyes at all costs—it didn’t feel the same anymore. there was a wall now. a different circumstance.

we were strangers.

i mean, not really strangers. we could never be that. i still caught myself looking when she walked past. but it was like everything that once made sense between us, everything that came so naturally, had been boxed up and put in storage.

i hate how good i got at pretending it didn’t hurt.

kk didn’t notice, already turning to azzi to ask about grabbing food, but azzi caught the shift, her brows furrowing just enough to make me nervous.

“you good?” she asked, her voice softer now.

i nodded too quick, furrowing my eyebrows like she didn’t have to worry about me. “yeah. fine.”

azzi placed an assuring hand on my shoulder before they walked off, leaving me alone in the tunnel, and just like that, the weight i’d been holding at bay crashed right back down.

i rubbed my chin, huffing and staring down at my shoes. it was stupid to think about her now. stupid to wonder if she was watching or if she even cared.

she wasn’t here. she wasn’t watching.

and i didn’t blame her.

i’m watching the all-star game.

not voluntarily, of course. it happens to be on in yardhouse, and my stupid eyes keep drifting back to this stupid screen.

i pick at my food, dragging my fork around the plate without taking a bite. a couple of my girls from usc—bree, naia… they’re all pretending like they don’t notice, like they don’t hear the cheers or see paige for sure having one of her best games since being in the league right now. they’re avoiding it for my sake, which i appreciate—sort of. it’s just making the air feel heavier.

“hey,” bree tilts her head up in my direction. “you sure about going back to minnesota?”

i glance her, mumbling a, “what?” mid-bite, although i’d heard her perfectly clear.

“the lynx,” she says, gesturing vaguely with her hand. “you’re really gonna go? leave la? what am i supposed to do without my favorite person to drag to runyon canyon at 6am?”

i snort, rolling my eyes. “first of all, i’m not your favorite person. second, i never agreed to runyon canyon. you kidnapped me.”

“it was consensual kidnapping,” she shoots back with a smile, but there’s something softer beneath her all the playfulness, a quiet undertone of, don’t go.

“i’ll miss you guys, obviously,” i say, waving a fry in her direction like it’s a peace offering. “but i’m not doing anything drastic yet. it’s just… something i’m considering.”

naia folds her arms and tilts her head. “considering enough that you’ve already decided to stay with your dad?”

“your dad?” bree cuts in, raising an eyebrow. “you’ve barely mentioned him since college.”

“he’s mellowed out.” i shrug, more defensive than i mean to be. “and it’s temporary. it’s not like i’m moving in with him forever.”

bree pouts dramatically, pushing her glass of soda away as if she’s protesting. “this feels personal. like, what did i do to deserve this? you’re really gonna leave me here with her?” she jabs a thumb toward naia, who glares at her.

“her has a name,” she deadpans.

“and her is not the one moving to the frozen tundra!” bree quips, throwing her hands up. “do you even know how cold minnesota gets? you’re gonna end up as a nai-sicle, and i’m gonna have to fly out and save you.”

bree’s dramatics usually get a laugh out of me, and i lean back in my chair, my hand brushing along the rim of my glass, thinking about what she said—about the tundra, about me leaving.

i love la—God, do i love it. the sunshine, the beaches, the way life feels like it’s always in motion. but now, i’ve convinced myself it’s too loud, too fast. too…paige.

moving back to minnesota was a sudden decision. the kind you make when you’re desperate for air but can’t find any. it wasn’t even on my radar until that night in front of nika’s hotel, paige in the passenger seat, the look in her eyes when she realized she’d completely lost me. i could still feel the weight of her hands on my face. when i told paige she had to let me go, i realized i wasn’t just asking her to stop. i needed to stop too.

the moment she let go of my face and settled into my passenger seat, something shifted in me. it was like the final thread tying me to her snapped, and all i could feel was this overwhelming need to get out.

i told myself the move would give me space to breathe, to find myself again. but the truth is, i made the decision sitting in that car, staring at the road through the rain soaked windshield as the car fell completely silent. it wasn’t logic; it was survival.

i don’t regret ending it. i don’t regret choosing myself. but i hate not having her in my life.

and maybe that’s the real reason i’m thinking about minnesota. it’s not just about starting over—it’s about making sure i don’t get pulled back into something i can’t handle.

bree’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “are you seriously not gonna respond? i just said i’d fly to minnesota to save your life. i think i deserve some credit for that.”

i smirk, grabbing a fry from her plate. “you’re so selfless. really, a true hero.”

my eyes drift back to the tv. she’s there again, all 6’0 of her grinning like she doesn’t have a care in the world, like she isn’t the reason i’m about to pack up everything and move back across the country.

yeah. i have to go.

back in indianapolis, the game had wrapped up with team wnba taking the win in one of those ridiculous, down to the wire finishes that made everyone’s heart stop at least three times. it was the kind of game you dream about, the kind that made the crowd stay on their feet, and the rush of the moment admittedly did help me forget about the static in my head.

“man, y’all really got it all figured out, huh?” i said, leaning my head back against the seat of the bus and watching as natasha cloud scrolled through pictures on her phone. she was showing off shots of her and her fiancée from their last vacation, the kind of photos that looked too perfect to be real, the ones you double tapped without a second thought. beaches, sunsets, matching shades—it was all there.

“you’re telling me paige bueckers, the golden child of the league, doesn’t have somebody?” natasha asked, tilting her phone toward me with a smirk. “no way. i don’t believe that for a second.”

i try to play it off with a shrug of my shoulders. “nah, she’s totally lying,” caitlin clark cut in from across the aisle, balancing a bottle of gatorade on her knee. “she was all about this girl back when we were on team usa together in high school. what was her name? nai? nailea?”

the name hit like a quick jab. i kind of set myself up for that one. “i wasn’t all about her,” i said, dragging the words out, like maybe if i said them slow enough, they’d sound believable.

caitlin’s laugh came quick, along with a raise of her eyebrow. “you kinda were, though. you’d bring her up all the time, like, ‘oh, nai likes that’ or ‘nai said this.’ it was cute, in an annoyingly obvious way.”

i tried for a laugh, but landed somewhere closer to a cough. i scoffed as i crossed my arms. “first of all, no. second of all, you’re remembering wrong.”

“am i, though?” caitlin pressed, grinning as she leaned forward. “so, what happened then? you still talk to her?”

i hesitated, clasping my hands together in the large space between my knees. “nah,” i said finally, running a hand down the length of my ponytail. “we don’t really talk anymore.”

it wasn’t technically a lie. but it wasn’t the full truth either.

sparing the details felt like too much—like the quiet “let me go” she’d whispered that night had somehow traveled with me all the way here, stuck in the back of my mind. the words still clung to me, threading through the days i tried not to think about her and the nights when i couldn’t help it.

natasha frowned slightly. “that’s tough.”

i hated that the conversation had shifted here, hated caitlin even more for bringing it up. but i couldn’t blame her. nai was a huge part of my life then, and somehow, even when she’s not supposed to be, she still is.

“wait—so… what happened? did you mess up? or was it, like, one of those timing things?” caitlin asked. she was genuinely curious, i could tell, but the there was still that teasing tinge.

“clark, let it go,” i said, half-laughing, half-praying she’d drop it before i said something i didn’t want to unpack.

“what?” she replied, holding her hands up. “i’m just saying. it sounded serious back then. you don’t talk about someone like that unless they mean something.”

“it was a long time ago,” i muttered.

natasha glanced at me, her eyes narrowing. “so what’s stopping you now?”

“she doesn’t wanna be in my life,” i said with a huff, and it felt good to say it. admit it to myself. “and, uh. i’ont think i’m really her favorite person right now.” i pressed my lips together, staring at the floor like it might open up and swallow me whole. i’ve been doing a lot of that recently.

“so why not keep her around?” natasha said after a moment. “doesn’t have to be all or nothing, you know. sometimes it’s worth it to just… keep people in your life. even if it’s not the way you thought it’d be.”

“amen to that,” one of the vets added, and i chuckled as i thought about it.

friends. that’s what she was implying, and it felt foreign for us. keeping nai in my life, just not as… her. not as the girl i flew out to connecticut every other weekend to make up for my shenanigans, or the girl who sat on the bathroom counter watching me brush my teeth because “it’s boring out there without you.” not as the girl whose voice i memorized like it was a song stuck in my head, or the one whose stupidly perfect smile made me forget my own name sometimes.

nai had never been in my life as “just a friend,” and i didn’t know if i could put her in that box now. how the hell could i pretend like i could compartmentalize every look, every laugh, every piece of her that’s still stuck in my skin like a tattoo i can’t scrub off? it’d be like trying to stuff something infinite into a container that didn’t fit—like ignoring the fact that she’d always meant more to me than that.

i appreciated the advice, i really did. but now her name was in my head again, and i’d probably be thinking about this for the rest of the night.

and maybe they were right. maybe letting her go didn’t mean losing her completely. but the idea of reaching out—of risking another rejection—it was enough to make me freeze. because what if i tried, and it still wasn’t enough?

i was inside the café grabbing our food, trying to juggle everything—drinks, fries, and some half-assed attempt at balancing the trays without spilling everything—when i caught the tail end of their conversation. it didn’t take long to figure out they were talking about nai.

“yes.”

“no.”

“yes!”

“no!”

“God, cam, you’re so stubborn!” rickea’s voice carried through the door, and i could practically hear her throwing her hands up in mock frustration.

“what can i say?” cam’s voice floated as she added, “i’m right.”

“you’re not!” rickea argued, shaking her head. “minnesota’s not even close to having a shot. i’m telling you, they’re just not—“

“well, if nai wants to go back to minnesota,” cam said casually, sipping her drink, “then she’s got a chance. she said something about being closer to her dad, too.”

i froze for a second, my mind stuttering to catch up with her words. nai. minnesota. closer to her dad. it hit harder than i expected, like a brick to the chest. i tried to keep my cool, but everything about it felt wrong. i didn’t know if i was imagining it or if it was the way the air shifted, but something about her tone made it feel like everything had just paused.

“wait, what?” i forced out. i couldn’t have heard that right.

rae’s head snapped over, her eyes going wide. “bro,” she hissed, kicking cam under the table. “she told you not to say anything.” i dropped the tray, sliding in next to her.

cam’s face froze, her lips still wrapped around the straw. “oh, shit,” she mumbled, glancing at me like a deer caught in headlights. “i mean—”

“why’s she moving back?” it was a stupid question, really. i knew why. the timing of it all.

“i mean, it’s her home,” cam muttered, clearly regretting bringing it up. “and, you know, the lynx could be looking for someone with her skill set if she decides to leave la.”

“betraying us for the lynx,” rae added with a fake scowl, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “cold.”

i didn’t laugh. i didn’t even really hear the joke. this was it, wasn’t it? she was leaving. and this time, there wouldn’t be a next time. no more half-hearted calls or texts that went unanswered. no more moments where we found each other in the same room and pretended everything was fine.

i opened my mouth to say something—anything—but the words got stuck. i fucked it up. that’s what i wanted to say. i fucked it up, and now it was too late.

“i mean, it’s her home,” cam muttered, clearly regretting bringing it up. “and, you know, the lynx could be looking for someone with her skill set if she decides to leave la.”

“you good?” cam’s voice was cautious, and her eyes darted between me and the others, like she wasn’t sure if she’d just kicked over a hornet’s nest.

“i don’t know,” i admitted, my voice barely audible. i leaned back in my chair, running a hand over my face, trying to get a grip. it felt like i was teetering on the edge of something i couldn’t name.

“you look like you’re thinking,” rae cut in.

“i am.”

“about what?”

“don’t know.”

rickea, sitting across from me, didn’t even try to sugarcoat it. “about what you’re gonna do?”

“what am i supposed to do?” i shot back. her eyebrows lifted, and i sighed, softening my tone. “she’s done with me. where we stand’s been pretty clear.”

rickea didn’t blink. “you sure about that?”

my stomach flipped. did she know something i didn’t? “what you saying?”

“i’m saying,” she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, “that maybe she was gonna talk to you before she made up her mind.”

my breath caught. “what do you mean by was?”

“look,” rickea said carefully, glancing at cam and rae like she was asking for backup. “i’m just saying, nai brought you up the other day. something about wanting to figure things out before… whatever happens next. she didn’t go into details, but it sounded like she wasn’t done with you.”

done with me. i didn’t even know what that meant anymore. but just the thought of it—of her even thinking about figuring things out—was enough for me. i’d take what i could get it.

“so talk to her,” rae urged, nudging my knee under the table like she was trying to get me to snap out of it. “you’re acting like this is already over, and you haven’t even tried.”

cam tilted her head. “and maybe… maybe it doesn’t have to be all or nothing, you know? you could start with just—”

“friends,” i finished bitterly, cutting her off.

she shrugged. “it’s better than nothing,” she tried to comfort. “and if she’s willing to have you in her life at all, then maybe that’s something worth trying for.”

friends. it echoed in my head again, this stupid idea that natasha had already planted. something about it felt so wrong, but at the same time, the thought of letting her go completely was unbearable.

“we’d help,” cam offered with a small smile, nudging rickea. “if you need backup or… whatever.”

“hell yeah,” rae agreed, furrowing her eyebrows like it was a given. “just say the word.”

i exhaled slowly, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. my mind was spinning, looping through all the ways i’d messed things up, all the things i could’ve said or done differently. but none of that mattered now. what mattered was what i did next.

“okay,” i said finally. “how?”

when rickea texted, i almost didn’t answer. the day had been long in that draggy, soul-sucking kind of way where everything felt like a chore. i’d spent most of it staring at my computer, half-heartedly working on a report while fighting the urge to crawl back into bed. by the time the sun dipped below the horizon, i was fully settled on the couch, one leg tucked under me, the other dangling off the edge, a bowl of cereal balanced precariously on my thigh. the idea of getting up, let alone leaving the house, felt like too much effort.

then the second text came in.

rickea: please nai 😫😬😅☹️😣😕😭 (don’t make me beg) 11:23pm

rickea had a way of making me laugh even when i didn’t want to. i stared at my phone for a full minute before sighing and putting the bowl down on the coffee table. cereal wasn’t worth the headache i’d get if i ignored her and she found out.

nai: what’d you forget this time?

her response came almost instantly.

rickea: left something on your desk earlier when i came by. i need it.

vague. no specifics, no explanation, just enough to be mildly suspicious. but i was too tired to argue, so i slipped into my slippers, still in my mismatched pajamas that consisted of a faded hoodie and some loose joggers, and grabbed my keys.

you’re too nice, i thought. the drive over was quiet, the streets still packed to the brim, because this city truly never slept. it was august, and even at night, the air was so suffocatingly thick with heat. my car’s ac sputtered in protest every few minutes, and the radio played low, some random playlist i’d thrown on earlier, the songs fading into the background as my mind wandered.

i didn’t know what i expected when i got to the office. maybe a forgotten laptop charger or a stack of papers rickea couldn’t live without. something small, simple, and annoying enough to make me question why i even bothered.

what i didn’t expect was the glow of my desk lamp spilling out into the otherwise dark room.

i froze in the doorway, my hand still on the knob, my pulse quickening just slightly. i hadn’t left it on earlier, i was sure of it. my first thought was that someone else had come in after me, maybe left it on by mistake. but as my eyes adjusted, i saw the flowers.

some were fresh—bright and colorful, but the others… the others were absolutely done for, their edges browned and curling, their stems drooping under the weight of time.

i knew those flowers. they were my flowers.

they were arranged into a single word, their stems carefully twisted and balanced: friends?

my heart jumped into my throat, and my hands moved over my mouth, my pulse roaring in my ears. i froze, torn between laughing at the absurdity of it and something i didn’t have a name for.

my breath hitched, and for a moment, all i could do was stare. i reached out, my fingers brushing one of the fresher blooms, and my mind raced. there was only one person who would—could—do something like this.

the flowers. the stupid lamp left on. the messy bouquet spelling out a word that felt like both an offering and a question. it was all so… her.

my fingers trembled as i traced the edge of one of the wilted flowers, the brittle petals flaking under my touch. these were the same ones she got me for my birthday, the ones i kept in a mason jar way longer than i should’ve, because throwing them out felt wrong. they looked ridiculous now alongside the fresh ones, but the longer i stared, the more it made sense.

it was us. chaotic, mismatched, and somehow still there. still standing.

“my bad for breaking in. kea helped.”

paige stepped out from a corner in the room, and the movement from my peripheral made me spin around.

“my bad for breaking in. kea helped,” she added, throwing it out there like it was no big deal.

“kea?” i repeated, and it suddenly all made sense in one click.

“yeah.”

“your idea?”

“‘course,” paige replied, shrugging her shoulders as she strolled closer. “couldn’t let you get away without letting you know sum’.”

she strolled forward, her hands stuffed into her hoodie pocket, her sneakers making soft thuds against the carpet. her eyes locked onto mine, unflinching, and even from across the room, i could that whatever she was about to say was worth hearing.

“i know i’m probably the last person you wanna hear from right now. and maybe i deserve that. but i’ve been thinkin’, like, this whole time. about you. about us. and maybe we didn’t always get it right, but i still don’t think we got it wrong.”

my stomach twisted, and i folded my arms across my chest, unsure whether to let her keep talking or shut her down. but she kept going anyway, her words spilling out in a rush, like she had to get them out before i could stop her.

she stopped just in front of me, close enough that i could smell the stupidly familiar cologne on her neck that’d probably been lingering for hours after her shower. her hand fell to her side, fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie.

“i don’t wanna lose you,” she said, and i could hear her trying to hold it together. “not again. and i know—trust me, i know—i can’t undo all the shit i did. but if there’s even a chance, like, any chance, that i can be in your life again… i’m taking it. whatever it looks like. friends, coworkers, random people who wave awkwardly at each other in public—i’ont care. i just… i need you to let me show up. show you i’m capable.”

i chuckled, tearing my eyes away from her. her words held a heavier weight than any of the bullshit we’d tried to ignore before. i stared at her, taking in the way her shoulders slumped just a little, the rawness in her voice, and that damn hope in her eyes. it almost killed me. it did kill me. because, shit, i wanted to say it wasn’t enough. that it was too late. that the cracks were too deep and the damage irreversible.

but that wasn’t true. this was different. an entirely different status that didn’t require any promises or heartbreak.

i still cared. i think i always would. it was in the way i couldn’t throw away that stupid bouquet despite how angry i was that she’d walked out on me that day, the way i thought the only way i could forget about her was moving back to minnesota, which i think would no longer be in the question after this.

because if we did it right this time, there was still a shot.

still a shot.

i moved before i could stop myself, crossing the distance between us and wrapping my arms around her, pulling her into a hug that was too tight to be anything but real. “the reset button, yeah?”

she hesitated at first, but then she let out a breath and hugged me back, her arms feeling like a safe place i hadn’t realized i was missing. she rested her head on my shoulder, a lovable habit. “yeah. ‘s gotta be worth somethin’, right?”

it was worth more than she probably thought.

“who are you and what have you done with paige?” i muttered against her shoulder, a snarky grin tugging at my lips. it was easier to do than admit how much i’d missed this—missed her. wouldn’t be very friendly-like.

she pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes.

“i’m whoever you want me to be.”

#paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers x fem #paige bueckers x oc #wnba x reader #paige bueckers blog #hoaw #wlw fanfic

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mistressofstars · 1 day ago

Text

A Lecture on Desire - Part II

Pairing: Kathryn Hahn x Reader

Summary: A lecture on The Price of Salt is supposed to be all about Therese and Carol, but when Professor Hahn locks eyes with you, lines blur. Slow-Burn. Non-magical AU

Word count: 1.1k

Carol looked at her. "How do you become a poet?"

"By feeling things - too much, I suppose," Therese answered conscientiously.

- Patricia Highsmith, The Price of Salt

Part II

The hiss of steaming milk, the sharp whir of grinders blending into a steady hum of conversation. People weave through the space with trays and bags, the occasional burst of laughter cutting through the noise.

It’s your first day behind the counter, and every part of your new barista job feels like an uphill battle.

„Y/N, the line’s building! Keep it moving!” Your colleague snaps, but their words barely register. You slide a latte across the counter to a waiting customer, quickly wiping down a sticky spot before taking the next order. Your apron feels tight against your waist, and the sleeves of your shirt are damp from a botched attempt at steaming milk earlier. The heat from the machines only adds to your flustered state, making your hair stick to your temple as you try to keep up. “Next!” you call, forcing a smile.

After a chaotic morning, the café finally quiets with the lull after morning classes. You tuck a los

A scent reaches you. A faint trace of sweetness, like jasmine and earthy notes of musk and oakmoss …

You‘re about to turn right when you hear a smooth voice „Double espresso, to go dear.“

… something smoky, like tobacco or leather?

You blink, startled, as your brain catches up.

Professor Hahn stands at the counter. Her hair is open, a few strands falling loosely around her face. She wears a dark coat over a purple turtleneck, the same coat you noticed from the other day when you caught sight of her outside the library. She looks just as effortless, just as composed.

“Of course! Just a moment.” Your hands fumble slightly as you prepare the order, the movements automatic but your nerves far from steady. You can feel her watching you, every move sharp and calculating, as if she’s already figured out more about you than you’d like her to know.

„Here you go,“ your voice is steadier than you feel, but there’s a tremor beneath the words that you can’t quite mask. Kathryn takes the cup from you, her fingers brushing yours lightly, sending an unexpected jolt through you. She lets the moment linger before offering a small, knowing smile. “Rough day, honey?” There’s something playful hiding beneath her voice. She glances at the cappuccino stains on your apron before meeting your gaze again.

“I’m still getting the hang of it.” You swallow, trying to keep your composure.

“Mm. I can tell,” she says, her voice teasing.

You nod, your heart racing as she continues. “I liked your take on the reading in class,” she says, removing her glasses slowly before taking a deliberate sip of her espresso.

You open your mouth to respond, but she cuts you off „It’s a good start,” she adds, her gaze lingering on you, making your pulse quicken. You feel a heat rise in your cheeks.

Her lips curl into a knowing smile, and for a moment, the air between you seems to thicken. There’s something almost daring in her tone as she adds, “Well, anyway, you’ll get the hang of it… if you want to, that is.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with more than one meaning. You’re not sure if she’s talking about your class answers, your new job, or something else entirely.

“Well,” she says, as she prepares to leave.

„I‘ll see you in class, Miss Y/LN“, without another word, she turns and heads for the door, the bell above it jingling softly as she steps out into the cool air. The faintest trace of her scent lingers in the space, almost tangible.

Your first shift comes to an and end while wiping the counter you notice them, next to the cash register. Kathryn Hahn’s reading glasses.

…

You walk into class the next day, a bit of nervous energy humming through your veins. It’s been impossible not to think about the way Kathryn looked at you yesterday.

But now, as you settle into your seat the air feels uncomfortably charged as Kathryn walks into the lecture hall, heading straight to the front, taking her place at the podium without so much as a glance.

Your palms feel sweaty, but you try to shake it off. She starts the lecture, as usual, moving into a discussion of The Price of Salt. When you raise your hand and contribute your thoughts.

“I don’t think you’re interpreting it the way it was meant,” she responds curtly. The dismissal is subtle, but it stings just the same. She doesn’t look at you directly, her eyes scanning over the class instead and continues the discussion with someone else, leaving your point hanging in the air.

The rest of the class is uncomfortable, and when it ends, you’re still reeling. You leave the room quickly, trying to shake off the cold feeling in your chest, but as you gather your things, you realise - the glasses. They’re still in your bag, you had meant to return them to her personally today.

You know you should return them, but the thought of facing her now unsettles you, so you decide bring them to her office. The department building is almost empty and you slip into a side corridor near the staircase. Standing outside her office, the glasses feel heavy in your hand.

After a moment of hesitation, you make a quick decision. Instead of knocking, you approach the department assistant, handing her the glasses.

“Excuse me,” you say, “I believe Professor Hahn left these in the lecture hall“, your voice steady but your stomach fluttering. „Could you make sure she gets them back?”.

You get back to your apartment later that evening, feeling the weight of the day settle into your bones. You let the silence of the space swallow you whole, the hum of the city outside muted behind your windows.

Your mind keeps drifting so you you decide to do some reading for class.

The ping of an email snaps you out of your thoughts, and you glance at the open e-mail tab: Kathryn Hahn.

Your eyes widen and your heart picks up a little, and you’re almost afraid to open it. Your hands hover over the mouse. You klick.

Subject: Glasses

Dear Miss Y/Ln,

I assume I must have forgotten my glasses at the café. I’m not usually so forgetful, but it seems that day was an exception. Thank you for returning them to me.

As a gesture of appreciation, I’d like to invite you to lunch this Saturday at 2 p.m. Consider it a thank you for your promptness.

Do let me know if that suits you.

Sincerely,

K. Hahn

#kathryn hahn #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha all along #reader insert #agatha harkness x you #Kathryn Hahn x you #professor x student #Kathryn Hahn‘s personal Cup holder

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corendisguise · 3 days ago

Text

Neighbor‘s Curiosity

Chapter 2

Scott stood frozen, his heart pounding as George’s piercing brown eyes locked onto his. The air between them was thick with tension, a mix of shock and something else—something electric that made Scott’s skin tingle.

George took a step closer, his voice low but firm. “I need my identity back,” he said, his words cutting through the silence like a knife. “I have an important appointment, and I can’t be late.”

Scott swallowed hard, his mind racing. He didn’t want to give back the mask—the power it gave him, the thrill of being someone else—but the thought of running around naked sent a even bigger chill down his spine. What am I supposed to do? he thought, panic rising in his chest.

“Fine,” Scott finally muttered, his voice trembling slightly. “But I’m not going out completely naked. We’ll… we’ll switch.”

A slow, sly smile spread across George’s face. “Agreed,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. “Let’s make this interesting.”

George moved quickly, his hands fumbling as they peeled off his chunky bodysuit. Scott removed his suit from his ankles. The room was filled with the sound of zippers and rustling latex, the scent of sweat and latex mingling in the air. Scott’s heart raced as he slid naked into George’s discarded chunky bodysuit, the material still warm and damp from the other man’s body. It clung to him like a second skin, the sensation both strange and intoxicating.

He hesitated for a moment before pulling on the mask of the older, bearded man. The inside of the mask was slick with sweat, the warmth of it sending a shiver down his spine. As he adjusted the mask over his face, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror—a stranger staring back at him with heavy brows and sharp, weathered features.

This is insane, Scott thought, his breath quickening. But there was no denying the rush of excitement coursing through him, the thrill of stepping into yet another new persona.

Across the room, George was already slipping into Scott’s bodysuit and mask, his movements smooth and deliberate. Then both man dressed in each other clothes. When George turned around, Scott felt a jolt of surprise—despite knowing it was George beneath the disguise, seeing Mikes face staring back at him was unnerving.

“Well?” George said, his voice tinged with mischief. “How do I look?”

Scott opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, a loud knock at the door shattered the moment. Both men froze, their eyes darting toward the sound.

“Hey, Mike? You in there? Everything okay?” came Rick’s voice from the other side of the door.

Scott’s heart skipped a beat. Rick. The name echoed in his mind, bringing with it a flood of memories from their earlier encounter at the bar. His stomach churned with a mix of guilt and arousal, the conflicting emotions making it hard to think straight.

George shot Scott a glance, his lips curling into a wicked grin. Without waiting for a response, he strode toward the door and pulled it open, revealing Rick standing on the threshold. The younger man looked surprised, his dark eyes wide as they landed on George—or rather, the mask of Mike that George now wore.

“Mike?” Rick said, his voice tinged with confusion. “You alright? I heard some noise—”

Before Rick could finish, George reached out and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into the restroom with surprising strength. The door slammed shut behind them, and in one swift motion, George pressed his lips to Rick’s in a deep, searing kiss.

Rick let out a muffled sound of surprise, his body stiffening momentarily before melting into the kiss. His hands found their way to George’s shoulders, gripping tightly as the intensity between them grew.

Scott watched the scene unfold, his breath catching in his throat. The sight of George—wearing Mikes face—kissing Rick so passionately sent a wave of heat through him, stirring something primal deep within. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, even as his mind raced with questions and doubts.

As if sensing Scott’s gaze, George broke the kiss and turned to look at him, his eyes gleaming with hunger. “Join us,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

Rick followed George’s gaze, his eyes landing on Scott—or rather, the older, bearded man he had become. Recognition flickered in Rick’s expression, but it was quickly overshadowed by desire. Without a word, he stepped toward Scott, his hand reaching out to trace the edge of the mask.

Scott’s heart pounded in his chest as Rick’s fingers brushed against his cheek, the touch sending a shiver down his spine. He could feel the warmth of Rick’s body radiating through the thin layer of the bodysuit, the proximity making his head spin.

“Who are you?” Rick whispered, his voice husky with need.

Scott opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. Instead, he leaned forward, capturing Rick’s lips in a tentative kiss. The moment their lips met, something inside Scott snapped, unleashing a flood of pent-up desire. The kiss deepened, growing more urgent and desperate as they lost themselves in each other.

George watched from the sidelines, a smirk playing on his lips. Then, without warning, he stepped forward, pressing his body against Scott’s back. His hands roamed over Scott’s chest, exploring the unfamiliar contours of the older man’s bodysuit.

“Careful,” George murmured, his breath hot against Scott’s ear. “You might lose yourself in this.”

Scott gasped as George’s hands slid lower, teasing and taunting as they moved. The sensation of having both men so close, their bodies pressing against him from all sides, was overwhelming. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of pleasure, every nerve in his body alight with fire.

Rick pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with lust as he glanced between Scott and George. “What’s going on here?” he asked, his voice rough with desire.

George chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. “Just go with it,” he said, leaning in to capture Rick’s lips once more.

And then all three of them were tangled together, their bodies moving in sync as they explored each other with reckless abandon. The restroom became a blur of hands and mouths, the air thick with the sounds of labored breathing and soft moans.

Scott’s mind was a whirlwind of sensation, his thoughts scattered as he surrendered to the moment. The weight of the mask and bodysuit seemed to fade away, leaving only the raw, unfiltered desire that consumed him. He couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the others began—all he knew was the relentless pull of pleasure, drawing him deeper and deeper into the abyss. Rick’s hands moved with a practiced ease, sliding down George’s chest before he dropped to his knees in front of him. His eyes locked with George’s as he unbuckled the older man’s belt and pulled open his fly, revealing the hard length beneath. Rick’s tongue darted out, licking his lips before he leaned forward and took George into his mouth with a low groan.

Scott watched, transfixed, as Rick began to bob his head, his movements slow and deliberate. The sound of wet heat filled the small space, mingling with George’s ragged breaths. Scott felt his own arousal spike, his cock straining against the sheath of the bodysuit he still wore. The material clung to him, damp with sweat, but it did nothing to dull the intensity of what he was seeing.

When Rick finally pulled back, George’s cock glistened with spit, and Rick wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He stood, turning to Scott with a predatory grin. Without a word, he closed the distance between them, his hands coming up to cup Scott’s face. Their mouths crashed together in a heated kiss, and Scott moaned into it, his body trembling under Rick’s touch.

But then something unexpected happened. As Rick’s fingers brushed over Scott’s cheeks, the mask that had been sticked tightly to his skin began to shift. The sweat that had accumulated inside the latex made it slippery, and Scott could feel it slipping slightly, moving just enough to break the seal around his neck.

Rick noticed immediately. He pulled back, his eyes narrowing as he studied Scott’s face. A slow, knowing smile spread across his lips. “Well, well,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Looks like someone else is playing dress-up.”

Scott’s heart pounded in his chest as Rick reached up, his fingers grazing the edge of Scott’s mask. He expected anger, confusion—anything but the calm amusement that flickered in Rick’s eyes. Instead of pulling the mask off, Rick tilted his head, his smile widening.

“You know,” Rick said, his voice dripping with mischief, “I always wondered about Mike. But I never got close enough to find out.” He paused, his gaze shifting to George, who was watching the exchange with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. “And now here we are—three maskers in one room.”

Scott’s breath hitched as Rick’s hands moved to his own face. Before Scott could process what was happening, Rick peeled off his mask, revealing a strikingly young man underneath. His features were soft, almost boyish, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that spoke of experience beyond his years.

George let out a low whistle, stepping closer to examine Rick’s mask and true face. “Well, this just got a hell of a lot more interesting,” he said, his voice thick with desire.

Rick smirked, his confidence unshaken despite being exposed. He turned back to Scott, his hands returning to the edges of the older man’s mask. This time, he didn’t hesitate. With a quick tug to the sides and a pull, he lifted the mask free, revealing Scott’s flushed, sweaty face beneath.

For a moment, Scott felt exposed—vulnerable. But then Rick leaned in, his lips brushing against Scott’s ear. “You look good either way,” he whispered, his breath hot against Scott’s skin.

George stepped forward, his eyes gleaming as he looked between the two younger men. “So, this is promising?” he asked, his tone playful yet commanding.

Rick glanced at George, his smirk returning. “Now… i unfortunately have to go,” George said simply, gesturing toward the door. But let’s meet later in my house. We will have a lot of fun.

Rick raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. But after a beat, he chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair enough,” he said, grabbing the discarded mask of Scott from where it lay on the sink. He slipped it on, the transformation instantaneous. George was immediately hard and understood the gesture clearly. George then turned and left the restroom, leaving Scott and Rick alone.

Rick wasted no time. Withe the older man mask on he pressed Scott against the wall, his hands roaming over the chunky bodysuit that still clung to Scott’s body. “Guess we don’t need these anymore,” he murmured, his fingers finding the zipper and pulling it down in one smooth motion.

The bodysuit fell away, leaving Scott bare underneath. Rick’s eyes darkened as he took in the sight of Scott’s naked form, his gaze lingering on the hard length between his legs. He leaned in, his lips brushing against Scott’s collarbone as he whispered, “Let’s see how far we can take this.” With this Rick grabbed his former face and pulled it apart with both hands inside. He then pulled the mask over Scott’s face and adjusted it easily because of tons of sweat inside it.

Scott’s breath came in short, shallow gasps as Rick’s hands explored his body, mapping every inch of him. The younger man’s touch was electric, sending jolts of pleasure through Scott’s veins. When Rick’s mouth found his nipple, sucking and biting gently, Scott threw his head back, a moan escaping his lips.

But Rick wasn’t done. He dropped to his knees again, his hands gripping Scott’s hips as he leaned forward and took Scott’s cock into his mouth. The beard was tickling his skin. The sensation was overwhelming, and Scott’s knees nearly buckled as Rick worked him with expert precision.

Scott’s fingers tangled in the hair of Rick’s mask, holding him in place as he thrust shallowly into the warmth of Rick’s mouth. The mask slightly slipping on his face. Scott’s mind was a haze of pleasure, the world outside the restroom fading into insignificance. All that mattered was the feel of Rick’s lips around him, the way the masked man’s tongue danced along his length.

When Rick finally pulled back, Scott was panting, his body trembling with need. Rick stood, his own arousal evident as he pressed himself against Scott. “Think you can handle more?” he asked, his voice rough with desire.

Scott nodded, unable to form words. Rick grinned, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small packet of lube. He tore it open with his teeth, coating his fingers before pressing one against Scott’s tight entrance.

The initial intrusion was met with resistance, but Scott relaxed quickly, allowing Rick to push inside. The stretch was intense, but the pleasure that followed was worth it. By the time Rick added a second finger, Scott was writhing, his cock leaking precum.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Rick muttered, his fingers working Scott open with a practiced rhythm. When he was sure Scott was ready, he withdrew his fingers, lead Scott back onto the toilet and then lining himself up with Scott’s entrance.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, everything seemed to pause. Then, with a single thrust, Rick pushed inside, filling Scott (masked with Rick’s face) completely. The gasp that escaped Scott’s lips was swallowed by Rick’s mouth as he kissed him deeply, their bodies moving together in a desperate rhythm.

The restroom echoed with the sounds of their passion—the slap of skin against skin, the ragged breaths, the low murmurs of encouragement. Scott wrapped his legs around Rick’s waist, pulling him deeper as they lost themselves in the heat of the moment.

As their pace quickened, Scott’s pleasure built to a crescendo, his release crashing over him with an intensity that left him breathless. Rick followed soon after, his movements stuttering as he spilled inside Scott.

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies pressed together, hearts racing in unison. Finally, Rick pulled back, his breathing heavy as he looked down at Scott. “We should do this again together with George,” he said, a wicked gleam in his eye.

Scott laughed, the sound breathless and giddy. “Let’s keep the identity switch and see if George finds out.“

Rick grinned……..

to be continued…

#gay #unmasking #gay roleplay #mask #muscle #muscle suit #skinsuit #male bodysuit #fleshsuit

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tkwrites · 1 day ago

Text

Split & Healed - A snapshot in two parts - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from @kawhh

Title: Split & Healed - a Snapshot in two parts - Part 1

Part 2

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn x Sarah

Warnings: talks of Quinns lip injury; hurt/comfort

Summary: Sarah's reaction when Quinn's lip was split.

Word count: 1,800

Anonymous asked: The commentators mentioned Quinn is still struggling to speak with that monster of a split lip. How was Sarah's reaction? Was she there? Does he catch her just staring at him with pity throughout the day because like same 😫

Comments: Nonnie, you sent this in and I had an immediate vision of Sarah putting ointment on Quinns mouth, so I had to write it out. And the actual wounding.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing.

Split & Healed - a Snapshot in two parts - Part 1

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

She was there. It happened, and she was immediately up, pacing back and forth in the family and friends box, clinging to her phone as she waited to hear from him.

When five minutes went by without any word, she sent him a message, hoping to break the tension as well as get an update: If he broke your nose, I swear to God, I’m going to kill him.

Quinn snorted before responding, my nose is fine. My lip is another story.

What happened?

His stick caught me just right and busted through my lip and some of my gums. Have to get stitches.

Through?

A gruesome selfie popped up on her screen and she yelped as her phone flew out of her hand.

“What’s wrong?” Bella asked, running to her side.

Sarah grimaced, “Quinn just sent me a picture of his lip.”

“Really,” Bella reached to pick it up.

“You don’t want to see, I promise.”

Bella turned the device over anyway, and turned a delicate shade of green. “Oh, gross.”

“I did try to warn you,” Sarah said as she took the phone back and clicked out of the image so she could respond.

Oh my god, warn a girl!

Quinn chuckled and was immediately reprimanded by the doctor currently stitching his lip. He went still and tried not to think too much about what was happening on the ice without him.

Even seeing his picture of the gash – which she was pretty certain she could have seen his teeth through if the blood was mopped up and he moved just right – didn’t prepare her for seeing him that night when he got home after the game.

He slumped into the apartment, holding a towel wrapped ice pack to his mouth.

“Hey,” she said tentatively, setting her book aside and standing to greet him.

“Hey,” he echoed morosely.

“Can I see?” she asked, reaching up to take his wrist.

Quinn felt a pained expression flash over his face. Not because it was hurting. They’d numbed his whole lip so they could put the stitches in without any pain and so he could keep playing, but it looked awful. Even though he’d washed the blood off in his post game shower, the wound looked almost worse now that some swelling had set in.

“It’s okay,” she promised, nudging his hand down.

Quinn watched her face as he lowered the ice pack.

“Oh, Quinn.”

He’d expected her to wince, and instead she was looking at him with all this deep pity in her eyes. He couldn’t decide which was worse.

“Is it still numb?” she asked, stopping her hand in midair as it instinctively reached up to touch it.

He nodded. “Doc said –” he broke off, wincing at his voice. It was like getting out of the dentist in the worst way. Not only was his lip numb, it was swollen, and wouldn’t do anything he wanted it to, making talking normally impossible.

“Doc said,” she prompted, ignoring the lisp. If she were in his shoes, she’d hate people reacting to it.

“Said I should ice it,” he said, gesturing with the pack, “help the swelling.”

“Makes sense.”

He sighed heavily.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked as he brought the ice pack up to his mouth again.

He shrugged, that morose look back on his face..

“What would make you feel better?” she tried again.

When he shrugged again, she figured she needed to take matters into her own hands. “Do you want to cuddle? I’ll play with your hair.”

Relief crashed through him like a wave. He didn’t have enough energy to make decisions. He was tired - so, so tired - and now he had this stupid busted lip because Hagel couldn’t keep control of his stick. Even though he knew it probably wasn’t intentional, he still wanted to blame him. It was just the perfectly imperfect set of circumstances. Wrong place, wrong time, hit with just the right portion of the stick to do maximum damage. At least they’d gotten the 4 minute power play.

“Come on,” Sarah said quietly, taking his free hand, “do you want to go to the couch, or bed?”

“Bed.”

She led him up the stairs, and after asking if he wanted to change, pulled out pajamas for them. Once they settled into the sheets and she turned on a baking show for them to watch, he rested his ear on her chest, calmed instantly by the steady, familiar beat of her heart.

Her fingers found their way into his hair, and his eyes fluttered closed. It was still terrible, this busted lip, but at least she was here, and still loved him enough to hold him and play with his hair.

Several days later, as they were snuggled up on the lucky couch reading, he snuffed out a frustrated noise as he tried to get more comfortable.

“What’s up?” she asked as her fingers stilled in their journey down his back.

“Just hurts,” he mumbled, adjusting again so his head was fully in her lap, and he could look up into her face.

Glancing down at him, Sarah felt an ache swell in her chest. Not only was he in pain, his perfect, lovely mouth was marred with stitches and swelling. He was still handsome, of course — sort of roguish looking now — but it would take some getting used to. She wondered how badly it would scar.

“And my lips are dry.”

They looked dry. He’d been licking them, absentmindedly fiddling the stitches with his tongue.

“Here,” she adjusted slightly.

He huffed, not wanting to move.

“I’m just going to get you something,” she said, “I’ll be right back.”

Reluctantly, he sat up and she stood.

She was holding a white tube when she came back a few minutes later. “Here,” she said, handing it to him.

“Aquaphor?” he read.

“It’s basically fancy vaseline, but it’s really nice at keeping moisture in. I use it on my lips at night in the winter.”

That was good enough for him.

“Will you do it?” He felt a little silly requesting it of her, but he knew from experience how much lighter her touch could be compared to his own. And quite frankly, he just wanted her to touch him. She’d been incredibly reluctant to kiss him since it happened, and though he was glad she wasn’t running headlong into anything, he wanted to feel her. He finally had time at home and he couldn’t even kiss her because of this fucking lip. It wasn’t even that they spent all their time kissing. They both had busy lives and things they needed to get done, but the fact that he couldn't do it only made the desire stronger.

He should send Hagel a bunch of hyper-realistic fake donuts, or some shit like that — just so he could experience the disappointment of having something delicious dangled in front of him, only to find he couldn’t actually eat it.

Feeling her touch him wouldn’t be the same, but at least it was something.

“Sure.” Sarah took the tube back. As she settled next to him, the little lights from the Christmas tree reflected in her eyes making them look starry and magical.

The lid clicked open with a quiet snick. He watched her squeeze some of the thick ointment onto the pad of her index finger.

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you?”

When she looked back into his face, she found Quinn watching her intensely. That intensity never failed to awake something within her. She pushed aside the desire that growled to life in her belly and heat that sparked between her legs.

He nodded.

“Ready?” she asked, as she reached out to rest her pinky on the side of his chin for grounding.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to do the bottom or the top first?”

Eyes darting to hers, he asked, “what?”

She gave him a mischievous little smile, but her tone was serious. “Should I start with the top lip to get it over with, or ease into it?”

Disappointment and relief swept through him in equal measure. “Get it over with.” It was always best to get the hard part done first.

Even though she tried to keep her touch as gentle as possible when she spread the salve onto his lip, he still flinched.

“It’s okay,” he assured, reaching up to keep her from pulling her hand away, “just a reflex.”

He intentionally bit back a wince as he lisped over the words, worried she would think it was a response to something she was doing. Trying to figure out how to talk when half of his lip was unnaturally stiff was no cake walk. He hated the way it changed his speech.

She started again, and he held himself still.

Watching her do this, let alone feeling it, soothed him and also awoke something primal in Quinn. Letting his eyes wander down to her mouth, he couldn’t stop thinking about the pleasured noises he could pull from it when he went down on her. Another thing he likely wouldn’t be able to do until the damn thing had healed more.

He wished his mind would stop conjuring up images of everything he wanted to do, but couldn’t because of this stupid injury.

“Better?” she asked, pulling her hand away.

He nodded. “Still want to kiss you,” he mumbled.

“I know, Quinny. I can’t stop thinking about kissing you, either.”

A frustrated noise huffed out of his nose. “You’re not helping.”

She smiled, “maybe we can try…” Leaning in, she pressed a gentle kiss to his bottom lip, doing her best to avoid causing any pain.

He still let out a hissed kind of whine.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, pulling back abruptly.

“It’s just tender,” he sighed, a dark edge of defeat in his voice. “This fucking sucks. I wanna kiss you so bad.”

“I know the feeling,” she said, eyes straying down to the dark stitches again.

Quinn took a measure of comfort in the fact that she, at least, was feeling the same longing he was as he lay down again, settling his head back into her lap.

Her fingers ran into his hair again and he sighed. At least there was this.

Part 2

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

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#quinn & sarah snapshots #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes x ofc #quinn hughes au #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #hockey romance #hurt/comfort

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