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cacoetheswriting · 3 days ago

Note

I have a request. Bare with me new at this request bit.

Eddie wakes up hands cuffed to his bed with reader blowing him. Then has sex with him.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 2.2k

content warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI: explicit and mature themes, smut, established relationship, cnc, somno, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, use of toys, adult language / dirty talk, use of pet names, a little pervy, more plot than porn tbh ‘cause i don’t know how else to write smutty content, slightly possessive!reader, jealousy, slightly dom!eddie but also slightly dom!reader - unedited - pls let me know if i missed any!

a/n: pls have your age / age range stated in your bio when requesting 18+ content. cleared here in the dm’s, but it saves a lot of back and forth when it’s in the bio - for any future requests.

He’s flustered. Stumbling over his words, cheeks a deep red. He’s avoiding your gaze. Staring instead at his beat up sneakers as he rolls a twig around with the sole of his shoe.

You can’t help the smirk that circles your lips as he stammers through the pros and cons of his proposition as if it’s a thesis and he’s aiming for top marks; or a close equivalent. If only he put this much care in his homework, you think to say but bite your tongue since he’s clearly nervous enough.

“What do you think?” He asks, finally meeting your eyes.

The look behind the brown is hopeful, eager. Like a little boy waiting in line for a shiny new comic. Only, he’s not wanting a superhero book. No.

Eddie Munson has a request of a far different variety and you’d be lying if it didn’t excite you as well.

“You want me to suck you off while you’re sleeping?”

Eddie nods.

“If you think it’s too much, you can obviously say no and we can forget I-I even suggested it.” He’s stammering again. “I-I just thought it’d be a cool thing to try—”

“I’m not opposed to it,” you say, interrupting, and shrug your shoulders to showcase indifference although you’re feeling anything other than that.

You’ve been not-so-casually hooking up with Eddie for a little over a year.

One would say — Robin — this situationship you have with the curly-haired metal-head is the reason you haven’t been able to find a real boyfriend, but what does she know about relationships anyway? Okay, harsh. She actually knows a lot considering she’s in one. Point being, it’s Eddie. And you’d forgo any connection just to hear him moan your name every single night: even if it means absolutely nothing the next morning.

“Are you putting a timeline on this, or do you want it to be a surprise?” You ask.

“Definitely a surprise.”

A week goes by.

You think about his proposition often. Sheer excitement mixed with a fuck ton of nerves. You’ve blown him before, numerous times. He says he loves when you do. Thinks about it afterwards. Jacks off to the memory of your lips around his dick.

This is different, however. He won’t talk to you. Won’t tell you how pretty you look on your knees for him. And you get off on his words.

You sleep over at the trailer twice during the week.

The first night, you don’t want to seem too eager and make point to show Eddie how tired you are after he’s fucked you raw. He knows not to expect it then. Instead, he opens his arms and lets you cuddle him until dreams take over.

The second night, you sort of psych yourself out. His light snores ripple through the bedroom. It’s all you can hear, aside from the thumping of your heart. You think about this situation you have found yourself in with Eddie, and wonder if perhaps Robin is right about this whole thing between you and the metal-head. Maybe you should reserve the more kinky stuff for an actual boyfriend. Especially because there’s a lot of trust required to act on deviance when the other person is asleep and trust is often reserved for more traditional relationships, you think. What you and Eddie have is lust.

Then, one afternoon the following week, Eddie surprises you.

Unfortunately, not in a nice way. He’s talking to a girl. Flirting, actually. You can see them at the bar. He says something, which must be funny because the girl places a hand on his leather-clad shoulder and pushes him gently while throwing her head back in giggles. Eddie’s not funny. Okay, he’s hilarious but he’s not a make-a-girl-flirty-laugh funny. And your blood boils.

“A vicious thing, jealousy.” Steve mumbles next to you.

“Can you even be jealous if you’re not actually with the other person?” Robin asks.

You tell them both to shut up then force yourself to look away from the bar. From the guy that’s not your boyfriend, but rather the best hookup of your life, and the pretty girl he’s flirting with, who may one day very well become his real girlfriend. One could call this thing you’re doing now spiraling. Your friends do, they say it simultaneously because they see the look in your eyes.

Wanting to save yourself from further embarrassment, you grab your handbag and your jacket, and tell your friends goodbye. They plead with you not to go, but only for a moment because Nancy is back with the next round of drinks and they forget all about your problems of the heart (and vagina).

You push past the sweaty bodies of Hideout goers and slip out the front door, into the cool breeze. The sound of your heels against the pavement grows louder the further you get away from the dingy bar. Eddie was your ride home. He drew the short straw on being everyone’s designated driver for the night. He’ll have one stop less to make, you think, can spend that extra time with this girl he met.

Twenty minutes on foot and you’re home. You shed the night off your back. A quick shower, a fresh set of pyjama shorts. You down a cold glass of water, then another for good measure. And just like that, you’re feeling sober and ready for bed. Ready to forget the sight of Eddie and that girl.

The night however, has other plans.

There’s a knock on your door. Metal on wood. With a sigh, you cross the living room towards it and press down on the handle. Eddie’s standing in the corridor. His head snaps up as you open to reveal the inside of your apartment.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“I came to see if you were okay,” he answers. “You left so abruptly. Didn’t even say goodbye.”

You shrug. “You seemed busy. I assumed you wouldn’t notice I left.”

Eddie’s brows string together.

“Why wouldn’t I notice?” He sounds genuinely confused, then recognition feigns on his features. “Is this because of the girl?”

You shrug again, because what else is there for you to do without completely spilling your guts.

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“You know there’s only you for me, right?” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Dollface, I’m not interested in anyone else. That was just harmless flirting.”

You drop your arms and step aside, letting him pass. You shut the door behind him before turning to face him once more.

“Eddie, I’m not an idiot, okay?” You begin, “I know what we’re doing is casual and that one day it might end.”

“Who says anything about wanting anything to end?” He counters with a smirk and walks away, down the hallway, towards your bedroom.

By the time you join him, the metal-head has stripped down to a T-shirt and boxers. Wordlessly, he gets into your bed and lifts the covers up, waiting for you to join him. You drop your arms with an exaggerated sigh and he laughs. Smooth, music to your ears.

Once you do, Eddie’s asleep in minutes. But not before he murmurs, “You’re the only girl I’d let anywhere near my dick and heart.”.

You giggle. “Aren’t they one and the same?”

He snorts. “Exactly, dollface.” And proceeds to place a kiss to the top of your head before sleep takes over.

Satisfied with how the night ended up — Eddie in your bed; the usual — you get comfortable in his embrace. Feeling safe and content, it doesn’t take long for you to also fall asleep.

When you wake, it’s still dark, aside from the bedside lamp you left switched on. Eddie’s snoring next to you, but that’s not what your sleepy self is paying attention to. Your focus is on something hard pressing into your thigh and call it possessiveness or whatever, but suddenly you think to act on his offer from a few weeks ago. Make it that much more difficult for him to leave you for ‘the real deal’.

There’s a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs locked to your iron-rod headboard (from the last time Eddie stayed over). Tentatively, you reach for it and click the loose ring around Eddie’s wrist — the hand that’s so perfectly placed above his head, since he fell asleep resting on it.

Satisfied, a smirk circling your still sleepy expression, you run your hand down his chest, stomach, until you reach the band of his boxers. You glance at the metal-head, still sleeping, his erection now in your gentle grasp. So you sit up fully, pushing the covers aside.

Without further hesitation, you first circle your tongue around the tip of his cock, lick down his shaft, and then slowly drag it up along the underside. Lightly, you flick your tongue across the vein, just under the head. Eddie shivers underneath you, but makes no further indication that he’s awake, so you let your lips envelop around his head, taking him into your mouth.

Cheeks hollow, you suck, then swirl your tongue around and lick his shaft again. He moans in his sleep, shifts under you and the handcuff rattles. You glance at him from under your lashes and wet your lips before continuing.

You slide his cock across your mouth, once, twice, then wrap your mouth around it once more. A moment passes as you hold him, erect. His cock fills your cheeks, nudges at the back of your throat, throbbing with need. Sucking, you slide your lips upwards, licking around the tip.

A groan escapes his lips. The sound is magical and it fuels your own desires further. You feel a little bit pervy, a pool of wetness pouring between your own thighs as your lips work on his release. You pick up speed, hands cradling his balls as you take him as deep into your mouth as you can.

“Mhmmm…” Eddie moans awake, “Baby, baby, baby…”

“Let me take care of you,” you say in a sweet tone, batting your lashes for good measure, although you know he can’t see, face buried into your pillows.

You take him back into your mouth, one hand now holding him in place. You slide up and down every inch of him, again taking him as far as you can into your throat while letting your hand do the rest. At the top of the stroke, you swirl your tongue around his head.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re making my wildest dreams come true, dollface.”

Flicking your eyes up to Eddie’s face, you find him watching, his own mouth open, his eyes glassy. He tries to reach for you, but the handcuff is keeping him in place and he groans — a mix of frustration and pleasure. As you work your magic, he braces his body on the bed, so he can jerk his hips up towards your face and you smile into his crotch, his eagerness fuelling your own.

“Mhm fuck, you’re going to make me cum,” he grits.

“Please do, baby. I need your cum in my mouth.”

And you increase your speed as he drops his lock of hair back onto the pillow below. You bop your head up and down his rock-hard length, encouraging him to give in and let go. Face a sticky mess of saliva and precum, you can feel him pulsing and throbbing in your mouth. Suddenly, his hips still and his cock swells between your lips.

He gasps. Chanting your name like a prayer, the metal-head shoots his load into your mouth, feeling more awake than ever. Rhythmically, you squeeze him and press your tongue against the back of his cockhead, drawing every drop out of him. Hot, thick, liquid splatters against the inside of your cheeks and runs down your throat as you straighten, satisfied.

Eddie sits up too, or tries to at least with the fluffy cuff around his wrist. On the elbow he can rest on, he does, looking at you as if you’re an angel sent from above, just for him.

“God,” he grounds out, “You’re unbelievable, dollface.”

A smile circles your lips while you lick them clean. You shuffle closer, hovering over his chest until your mouth finds him, capturing it in a deep kiss.

“I hope this is what you had in mind when you asked me?” You ask in a soft whisper.

He huffs out a laugh. “You exceeded any expectations. You always do.”

“Good.”

And you kiss him again, but not before freeing his wrist. He shakes it, cracks it, and reaches for your face. When his lips find yours for a third time, his dominant side takes over. The moment blooms. His hands work your body, over then under your skimpy pyjama set. Breathless, sweaty. Perfect.

Unable to contain himself much longer, Eddie pulls you on top of him, one set of fingers digging into your hip bone as the other pulls your shorts aside. He’s smooth with his motions and settles you on his, once again, fully erect dick with ease.

“It’s only you for me, baby.” He says with conviction. “Never doubt that.”

His hand on your throat, squeezing gently as you roll your hips and moan his name until you see stars.

as always, thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

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camerahaterlittle · 2 days ago

Text

We're from the same pack but from rivaling herds | Alexia Putellas

Summary: Alexia has never been a good mother to you and finally you snap and she finally realizes her mistake as a mother

Warnings: Bad writing grammer and mentions of purposeful self harm Alexia's a bad guy here yall if this seems like something that you wouldn't enjoy please don't read

Ever since Alexia was pregnant with you, she never really thought about the future and whether you'd take on her legacy and continue to play football with your name of the back of the jersey even when you were born she never felt that connection that her mother told her she would feel with you she was just numb she didn't necessarily like you but she loved you.

Whether that was because she felt like she had to or because she actually did was always unclear to her and only her because she never told anyone how she actually felt about having you but deep down she knew that she didn't want you by any means in her kind she was young in love and free.

You always thought that's why you always sat alone at the dinner table eating dinner with one of Alexia's old jerseys on one of the chairs stretched out so it'd fit there pretending it was her when you were only 5 years old with whatever interview you could find of her playing in the background while Alba slept on the couch.

Ever since those days you swore, you wouldn't let your mother hurt you any longer, yet it didn't work all that well since you always bit back your words every time you were talking to her (it was really arguments) and those talks always left you in tears at a random gym taking your pain out on a punching back was your form correct no not at all your fists always hurt in the first ten minutes because you didn't wrap your hands right but in some way you enjoyed the pain since it took your mind off everything else.

Boxing was your thing it let you relieve whatever emotions you were feeling without any form of consequence if you didn't count the fact your knuckles would be killing you after the session with barely any breaks boxing was more of your thing than football ever was and maybe that's why you and your mother got pushed further away there wasn't anything you could bond over since your hate for football from when you were 5 stayed all the way until now.

And that was why to your self adopted coach, said you were the best fighter in Spain, at least that's what he told you that you could be if you let him help you and get you to that point you only nodded barely listening to the guy only 'agreeing' because you wanted to get back to hitting the bag like it offended you in some way.

Did Alexia know about your fighting? No, she didn't. No one really knew if you didn't count Ingrid and Mapi in that statement because they knew everything, yet you made them promise not to say anything or do anything when you broke down in front of them spilling everything that's been happening.

The couple had become your anchor through everything they were the only thing holding you above the crashing water, keeping you a float helping you swim through everything you knew you could always count on them no matter the situation they were always there and that was something you'd never take for granted since you never got that much growing up.

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

You looked around, trying to spot Mapi and Ingrid in the small crowd of people. After your fight, you ended up winning, which wasn't a surprise to your coach or any of the small number of fans you had since you normally won every fight of yours with barely any struggle.

But to your surprise, when you finally found the couple, you saw Alexia standing right next to them, a small frown on her face with her arms crossed against her chest. Your expression hardened immediately. Your jaw clenched as you took off your gloves so you could finally wipe the sweat and blood off your face.

You were zoned out the entire conversation with your coach, only humming or mumbling a small okay in response to whatever he was saying the moment he was finished talking to you, you were out of the ring walking over to Mapi, Ingrid, and Alexia the couple pulling you into their arms like they were trying to shield you away from Alexia's gaze.

"You did amazing out there cariño best fight I ever saw." Mapi murmured in your ear as she held you closer to her as Ingrid started a somewhat friendly conversation with Alexia, trying to get her attention off of you and Mapi.

You had the smallest smile on your face from her praise as your arms slightly tightened around her, enjoying the warmth and love you got from the fellow Spaniard. "Thank you, Maps," you said quietly, a small shiver going down your spine when her hand started to scratch at your scalp, ignoring the way the slightly wet strands felt against her fingertips.

Mapi looked up and away from you when Alexia cleared her throat, rolling her eyes at the sight of you and her best friend together. Mapi slowly pulled you out of her arms so you could actually see your mother, yet you stayed close to one of your favorite people, not like the arm Mapi still had around you was gonna let you go anywhere at all.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were boxing now, huh?" Alexia spoke her tone sharp and calculated just like it always was when she spoke to you. Mapi, in response to Alexia's words, pulled you a bit closer to you, offering you a silent comfort from Alexia's coldness.

"I didn't think it was such a big deal it's just a hobby." Your words came out quiet less harsh than Alexia's the somewhat happiness you felt from before vanishing as she continued. You knew she wouldn't drop this topic even if you just wished she would.

"Just a hobby, then explain why you've been doing this for the past year. If it's just a hobby, why are you continuing this Y/n." Alexia stepped closer to you, her frame towering over yours the moment the Norwegian who was standing on the side saw this she came between the two of you immediately something that surprised Alexia since Ingrid wasn't one for getting in between things often.

"Why don't you leave Alexia she will be home later on in the night. I think you need to cool down some, and then you guys can talk." Ingrid's words were sharp and calculated as she chose her words wisely, stopping whatever possible fight that could've been caused because of this.

You let out a sigh of relief Ingrid's words acting as a life jacket in the horrible waves of the sea keeping you above the water. Mapi pressed a soft kiss to your forehead as she walked away with you, leaving the Norwegian to deal with whatever Alexia could possibly say in response to things.

"She needs to come home now. Engen, there's conversations that we have to have." Alexia's expression hardened as she stared at her teammate, wondering why she was stopping her from getting her child and bringing her home to have a conversation.

"And that's not happening, not right now, Alexia she's not coming home until she's ready to talk to you, and until then, she will be staying with me and Mapi she is safe with us for the time being" Ingrid responded her own expression hardening the longer she stayed with Alexia she knew no conversation would be had it would be one sided the Spaniard in front of her being the only one who spoke while you sat in silence.

Alexia scoffed, shaking her head she had a feeling no matter what she said. Ingrid wouldn't let her take you home, so she left it at that, muttering something in Spainsh that the Norwegian couldn't quite catch in the moment.

Ingrid watched Alexia walk away, making sure she actually left before going to find you and Mapi finding the two of you in the back room of this gym you ended up fighting in a soft smile appearing on hee face as she saw you and Mapi messing around while talking she partly knew that her girlfriend was only doing this to distract you from what had just happened and it was clearly working.

The midfielder eventually walked over to the two of you, interrupting the mini fight/conversation you two were having "Alright you two, we've got to go home and get some food in our stomachs." Both you and Mapi turned, hearing the Ingrid's words pouting a bit since what you two were planning was interrupted but compiled anyways."Yes, mom." "Aye Aye, captain." Came from the both of you, Ingrid chuckling in response as the three of you left ready to get home.

All three of you hopped into the car, buckling yourselves in the car windows immediately being put down some the drive to your favorite restaurant being made while you got the aux cord and you took full control over that playing every Frozen song since in your words "It's not my fault it has one of the best soundtracks" which only resulted in groans.

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

By the time you walked into the house, you saw Alexia on the couch it had only been a couple hours since you last saw her, and you felt your heart clench at the sight of her sitting there zoned out to the point she didn't even notice walking inside the house.

You sighed, walking into the kitchen, grabbing an energy drink, cracking it open, taking a long sip from it. You heard Alexia getting up, making out the sounds of her clothes russling as she made her way into the kitchen after her gaze felt weird like she was staring straight through you or something and you most definitely didn't like that at all.

"Y/n, we need to talk about things." Alexia's tone was for once surprisingly softer than it normally was when she was talking to you, and that threw you off guard.

"You mean you're gonna talk, and I have to listen." Your tone was sharp just like hers was earlier at your fight, and yet instead of you being caught off guard, it was Alexia she never heard you take that tone with her once in her life.

"And quite frankly, I'm tired of listening to you talk and you expecting me to just take it and listen." You continued not giving her a chance to speak you were tired of listening and that was clear.

You took another swig from your drink, not daring to face her because you knew if you did, you'd crumble and wouldn't get everything you felt off of your chest nothing you were thinking in this moment was making sense and that meant everything came out oddly not making much sense but you knew Alexia was smart enough to get the point.

"I know i wasn't ever your baby and that I was only a maybe to you, and it took me forever to accept that hell I don't think I've even accepted it now I think I'm just okay with it now even if it hurts because my own mother doesn't care unless it affects her and even then you couldn't care less." You wiped the tears that were already falling. You expected that you wouldn't be able to hold yourself together during this. What made you say all of this to her was unknown. Maybe it was the softness in her tone, or maybe you were done with everything.

"I only wanted to feel loved by you, but you didn't even give me that all I got was you talking and ignoring what I had to say I got your jerseys on chairs in the kitchen because you were too busy to come home I sat alone pretending you were there with an interview of you playing wishing you'd care or love me just as much as you love football no five year old should have to do that." You could hear your words coming out shaky as you spoke, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You glanced at Alexia seeing her standing there tears in her eyes but you didn't care not when she was your first heartbreak.

"I just want you to love me as much as you love Pina or Vicky. I'm your actual daughter, and yet they somehow get more love and attention from you. I tried everything to get your attention, and yet I still couldn't get it. I wanted your attention good or bad." You took a shaky deep breath, putting your drink down on the counter rubbing your face, trying to get rid of the tears that were freely falling.

"But I didn't ever get that from you. I got it from Mapi and Ingrid. I got it from Alba and Jenni, but never you, the one person's love and attention i wanted i didn't get ever and I don't think you know how much that shaped me as a person." You turned around facing her. You could see she was going through every emotion possible as you continued.

"I don't need it now anymore, but she needed it she needed it more than me. I've grown to accept what you've done, but she hasn't she's still wondering what made you not love her as much as you loved everyone else." Alexia felt her heart break at your words she knew exactly what you meant by she without you even saying it, and it hurt her more than she ever thought.

You picked up your can once again, downing the rest of it before setting it back on the counter just staring into her eyes. Both of your eyes were red, tears staining your cheeks, and in that moment, it really felt like you were looking into a mirror staring back at yourself when, in all reality, it was just two hurt people one hurting more than the other.

You stood there like there for a few more moments, looking away from her as your lip trembled a bit. You just wanted Alexia to answer one question, and one only but you knew the answer would probably break you even more. "Did you ever actually love me? Did you ever even want me?".

You waited for her to respond, and it took her minutes to respond, but when she finally did, your heart broke even more just like you expected. "I don't know. I wish I had a better answer." Alexia was ashamed of herself for the way everything turned out for the way she treated her own daughter.

You nodded, walking over to the door and leaving the house without another word for once it was pouring outside. You wanted to turn around and go back inside the house, but you didn't. You kept walking without a set place in your mind on where to go.

Alexia watched you leave her heartbreaking even more. If that was even possible, she walked over to the couch sitting down head in her hands as she cried, wondering what had happened to make this turn out this way even if she knew the answer deep down.

It had been more than an hour since you left, and Alexia was still crying over everything, her heart aching in a way she didn't know was possible she picked up her phone when it started to ring answering it waiting to see who it was.

"Hello, is this Alexia Putellas" A man's voice spoke his voice ringing through Alexia's ears.

"Yes, this is her. What's this call for." Alexia thought this was just another photoshot guy or anything of that sort but she couldn't have been anymore wrong.

"I'm sorry to inform you, but your daughter Y/n is currently in the hospital in critical condition." The man responded, but he didn't get a response. The call ended immediately as Alexia jumped up, grabbing her keys and leaving her phone behind as she ran out the door, getting in her car driving to the nearest hospital breaking all kinds of laws just to get there.

Okay, I feel like this is incredibly short, but enjoy this while I work on other requests

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dannyriccsystem · 7 hours ago

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hi Z! I have scoliosis (around 20 degrees) and sometimes people like us experience back pain during sex, especially if it’s rough. so imagine the reader has scoliosis. her and the driver just finished having sex but they were really rough on her and she was in pain but didn’t want to say anything because she didn’t want to ruin the moment. she tries to get up or move around and the drivers see her struggling, they thought at first that she was so sore because of them (they’re like 😏😏). but they realize she was in instead pain and she tells them about her scoliosis, and they feel bad for not knowing and promise to go softer or at her pace next time. then cue the soft aftercare. thank you for indulging in my delusions ��‍↕️🙂‍↕️

NOT SO ROUGH!

FORMULA ONE DRIVERS X READER

SUMMARY: You have scoliosis, and the drivers go just a tad bit too rough on you! Cue the aftercare.

WARNINGS: Rough sex causing pain (not intentional), aftercare, fluff, Y/N usage, smut/mentions of smut, not entirely proofread

FEATURING: MV1, DR3, LN4, CL16, LH44, CS55, GR63, OP81

I actually dropped everything to do this request this is so cute.

MAX VERSTAPPEN - MV1

Sex with Max was unlike any other, and you found that out the hard way— Literally. You never thought it was relevant to mention the scoliosis, because you hadn’t expected it to be an issue. It never proved as one before, but you were beginning to realize the mistake you’ve made.

He was rough, to sum it up. At first it was fine, your body gently rocking on the soft mattress with every pound of his hips against yours. Then, like a train, it hit you all at once. Your back started to throb, and your cries of pain mixed in with your soft moans, which fueled him more. You climaxed hard, finally falling flat against the mattress as he pulled out.

“You were so good my love,” He whispered as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. You groaned, trying to sit up, but it just hurt even more. He chuckled softly, mistaking your pain for soreness. “Can’t move?”

You hissed, eyes welling with tears. He paused, freezing up immediately. He cupped your face, hands suddenly so gentle. The same hands that were roughing you around just moments ago. “Y/N, hey. What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“Just-… Just a little,” You breathed in slowly, letting his hands pull you up into a sitting position. “I should have told you, I have scoliosis… It really hurts, I just… I was enjoying it, and I didn’t want to ruin your moment.”

“Oh, lieverd.” He pulled you towards him softly, peppering your face with kisses. “I will always prioritize your comfort over my pleasure. I want you to feel good too.” He propped up some pillow behind you, helping you lean back against them. “I’m glad you felt good, but next time, tell me as soon as it starts hurting.”

He kissed away your tears, sitting down beside you. “Okay… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He climbed off the bed and stepped into the connecting bathroom, returning seconds later with a towel. Max carefully wiped the sweat and arousal from your naked body, before draping you with a soft blanket. You hummed, your soreness seeping away. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, I think I’m okay.” He climbed in beside you, softly kissing your forehead again. You smiled softly, relaxing against your mountain of pillows.

“You did great, I’m sorry I hurt you.” With those final words, you pressed yourself against his side and drifted off into a gentle snore.

—

DANIEL RICCIARDO - DR3

Unfortunately for you, it was hard for Daniel to tell the difference between whines of pain and whines of pleasure, which is why he didn’t take note of the excruciating back pain you were in. It was partially stupid on your end to hold back the information from him, as it could prove to be helpful, especially in a time like this. However, in your defense, you didn’t know that your first night together would be so rough.

And I mean literally. He was manhandling you, slamming his hips against yours. Of course, you enjoyed it at first, but as the minutes went by, the pain in your back grew. You hissed out in pain, clawing at his back. He figured this was part of your expression of arousal, and continued. It wasn’t until the tears began to well that he got the hint.

He slowly withdrew his length, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks. You breathed heavily, your back throbbing in pain. “Hey, hey…” He whispered in a hushed tone as you quietly cried. “Too rough? I’m sorry, sweetheart.” His hands softened as he lowered you back against the mattress.

You twitched, trying to shift into an upright position, and then cried out in pain. With quick reaction time, he grabbed your waist to steady you, brows furrowed. “What’s going on? Did I hurt you?” The sincerity in his eyes pained your heart.

“No- Well, yes, but it’s not your fault.” Your voice was shaking. With his help you sat up, your legs feeling like jelly and your back hurting like hell. “I have scoliosis, Danny. It was just a bit too rough for me.” You felt ashamed saying it, because you realized you should have said something sooner.

“Oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry.” He kissed your cheeks apologetically, hands rubbing soothing circles across your exposed back. “I wish you would have told me, I would have been much more careful.” You shook your head.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be okay, it just hurt,” You giggled softly at his worried expression, and leaned back against the headboard.

“Next time I’ll be more mindful. We can establish a safe word just in case it starts to hurt again.” You nodded in agreement, and shortly after Danny scampered off to collect some items to help soothe your pain.

—

LANDO NORRIS - LN4

Lando was a pent up guy. Racing really restricted his access to his lover, you, and when he was traveling so much he barely had any time to get himself off. It sounded gross, but the guy desperately needed a release. Thankfully, the week after the triple header was a free week, meaning he could come home and cherish you like he had been yearning for.

Cherish you he did. Your first time was a wild ride with Lando. He had assured your pleasure came first before he finally let himself enjoy you, sinking into your plush walls and losing control of himself. He hammered his hips into yours at a relentless pace, truly sinking in the glory of it all.

It felt great at first— Better than anything you had tried yourself, but the pleasure had melted into pain as soon as he started getting rougher. You hissed in pain, which was subsided by loud and uncontrollable moans. It felt like ages you were laying there until he pulled out, releasing on your stomach.

You breathed in shakily as he flopped onto the bed beside you, panting from over exertion. Even an athlete like himself would get tired after that. He rolled onto his side to face you, chuckling under his breath when he saw you struggling to move. “Sore?” He asked softly, amusement in his tone.

Except the color drained from his face when he realized you were in pain. He should have noticed it instantly, but he was caught up in the adrenaline of it all still. He sat up quickly, cupping your cheek with his palm and soothingly brushing his thumb over your soft skin. “Hey, Y/N? What’s happening?”

“Pain,” You uttered out. His heart immediately shattered for you, and he lifted to cradle your head in his lap, brushing a few baby hairs away from your face. “My back— Scoliosis flaring up-”

“Oh, Y/N… I didn’t know,” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “What can I do?” You huffed, breathing out shakily. You slowly tried to lift yourself, and he took the hint to help you sit up. In a more steady position, you felt like you could breathe clearly again.

“‘M sorry, Lan. I should have told you.” He gently rubbed circles onto your back, checking your eyes for clarity. “I never thought it would be necessary until now.” You locked eyes with him, and he offered an apologetic smile. “I felt really good, but… Maybe we should take it slow next time.”

He nodded immediately, pulling a blanket up to cover your exposed skin. You softened, feeling the throbbing pain start to slowly creep away. “Yes, thank you for understanding.” You felt your lips quirk into a smile as you shared a gentle kiss.

—

CHARLES LECLERC - CL16

Maybe it was the position. Sitting up straight with no support, moving your hips as you rode your boyfriend, was probably not the best idea considering your back condition. Charles could barely contain himself, his passion too strong to hold back.

You hadn’t expressed your pain, trying to push it aside. It wasn’t until you went limp against his body that he realized something was wrong. Charles slowly pulled himself out of your tight heat, feeling himself soften instantly. He cupped your cheeks, shaking you fully awake.

“Y/N? Hey, Y/N-” He froze when you blinked your eyes, seeming barely awake. He gave a sigh of relief. “Are you okay? Too rough?” He tried to keep calm, but it was hard. Pain was the last feeling he wanted you to experience during sex, unless you asked for it of course.

“Just a little bit.” You tried to push yourself up, but pain shot up your spine and you froze. “I should have told you. Charles, I have scoliosis. I never thought it would be important to mention.” You frowned, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry, I wish I had known. Either way, I should have checked in to make sure you felt good.” He lifted you carefully, his strong arms picking you up with ease. He placed you back on the mattress, tucking the covers in around you. “What can I get for you?”

“Maybe some painkillers and a heating pad.” You weren’t mad, just in pain, and thankfully… Charles was willing to care for you.

He rushed off out of the bedroom to gather your things. Roughly five minutes later he returned with some tea, medicine, and a heating pad for you to lay on. After you were situated, he climbed in beside you and carefully held you in the safety of his arms.

He drew patterns into the skin of your arm with his finger, tracing random shapes. You were 90% sure some of them were outlines of circuits. “Next time, we can go at your pace. Maybe even use a safe word, hm?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“I’d like that.”

—

LEWIS HAMILTON - LH44

Lewis was a sincere guy. He always asked for permission, and assured that you were comfortable and safe during the act of sex. Tonight was no different, except he was testing the waters to see how rough he could go.

He was unaware of your scoliosis, and you were equally unaware of how much of an issue it would pose. Your pleasure had softened into pain, and your moans started to sound more like desperate cries. It didn’t take long for him to notice.

He tried to keep a good eye on you, and when he realized the subtle change, he froze his movements. “Everything okay?” Lewis asked, brushing a stray tear from your eyes. You shook your head softly, and he pulled out, his focus now entirely on you. “Okay, okay… Shh..”

He scooped you up into his arms and carried you off the hard couch, and set you down on his bed. You could barely move any part of your body without an unbearable ache. He kissed your jaw and collarbones, soothing your muscles. “Talk to me, pretty. What’s going on?”

“My scoliosis is acting up.” You watched his brows furrow.

“I didn’t realize you had scoliosis.” You seemed to shrink down into yourself, feeling slightly ashamed for not saying anything. “Well now I know, and I won’t cross that line again.” He positioned both hands on your waist. “Can you roll onto your stomach? How about a back massage?”

—

CARLOS SAINZ - CS55

This was a new position for the both of you. You always liked missionary, because you liked to see the expressions Carlos made, and it was nice and relaxing that way. Sex felt so much more intimate, but after a particularly grueling race, he came back to your hotel room feeling a little more wound up than usual.

You ended up on your hands and knees on the bed, back slightly arched. You were in pain from the start, but the pleasure helped to mask it. Right up until the end. You managed to stick it out until you both came, leaving each of your satisfactory. It was after your climax that you collapsed against the uncomfortable hotel bed, quivering.

You felt Carlos lean over you, his chest brushing against the bareness of your back as he left little kisses all over the skin. “Sore, mi amor?” His accent was thick as he whispered against you. You shuddered, but it wasn’t like the typical one. Something felt off.

He lifted himself up and helped you tilt your head to the side, realizing you were in pain. He helped you roll onto your back and sit up, making sure your every move was supported. After giving you some water and helping you breathe again, you looked away and explained yourself. “Carlos, I should have told you earlier but I didn’t want to ruin the moment… I have scoliosis.”

“Ah, amor…” He kissed your temple, holding the side of your head with his large hand. “I don’t care about that, I just care that you’re okay and safe. In the future, tell me if I’m too rough. I’ll never be too out of it to listen to your wishes, especially during intimate moment.”

His sincere response made you feel emotional. You buried your face in his neck, letting him cradle you gently to ease the pain.

—

GEORGE RUSSELL - GR63

Your relationship with George had been practically perfect, but things were still going at a slower pace. Tonight in itself was a big step, because it was the first night you both showed interest in having sex— So you did.

You wanted to tell him, you really did, but it never came up naturally. It was hard to talk about, because even though it didn’t look too obvious, scoliosis made a lot of everyday things difficult for you. What you didn’t realize was that sex would be one of these things.

You initially were fine, but as George lost himself in the pleasure, the pain started to become more prominent. You seethed between gritted teeth, clinging to him tight. He took this as a sign to continue his efforts, letting the both of you climax simultaneously. He laid down beside you, rolling the two of you onto your sides as he held you.

You winced, tears finally spilling. Finally paying attention fully, George quickly realized and hopped out of bed, ready to do whatever you asked of him. “Y/N? What’s wrong? Can I get you anything?”

You almost laughed, but the pain was too prevalent. You just shook your head. “Scoliosis- Back hurts.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He helped you shift into a position that was comfortable, and sat down beside you. “Deep breaths with me, like this.”

Once he was certain you would be okay, he gathered some towels, fresh clothes, some hot tea, and put on your favorite movie while he gently massaged your aching back muscles, reassuring you that this would not be a repeat cause. It was safe to say you felt very loved that night.

—

OSCAR PIASTRI - OP81

It actually started as your idea. You and Oscar had always been fairly vanilla in bed, and while you loved it, you wanted to experiment more- Find out what you were really in to. He didn’t mind your request to be a bit rougher, even if it was awkward for him at first. He was used to being gentle with you.

You really did enjoy it at first, and then rough turned into hurtful, and your back started throbbing like hell. You scratched his bare back, for sure leaving deep marks from your nails. He groaned, head dipping down to bury into your neck. You whispered out a hoarse, “stop,” and he didn’t even have to think twice.

There was no safe word in place, but he didn’t want to take any chances. Oscar pulled out immediately, staring down at your face and searching for emotion. He could tell you were hurting, and your pain usually meant he felt pain too.

“What? What happened?” He stared down at you, and you slowly tried to reach up, but couldn’t really move your arm. Even that alone hurt like hell.

“Scoliosis. I think you went too rough,” Her tone wasn’t accusatory or mad, but he still felt awful. “Help me sit,” He did it without question, pulling your body up to sit against the headboards. He stood up and grabbed his hoodie off the floor, helping you pull it over your head.

“What can I get for you, baby?” He kissed your forehead, voice soft as he rubbed your arms soothingly. You shook your head.

“Nothing, it’ll pass… I just need to relax.” After dressing himself, he joined you on the bed and let you get settled in his arms.

“Maybe we should stick to being gentle.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

201 notes · View notes

kxsagi · 2 days ago

Note

Could you do something about the Blue Lock Boys with a girlfriend who practices a sport like Muay Thai or boxing professionally and is quite famous for dragging her opponents? 💘

“𝐊𝐎: 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝”

a/n: get em girl boss

ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, kaiser michael, karasu tabito, bachira meguru, shidou ryusei

itoshi rin

silently obsessed. he never says anything, but you catch him rewinding your fight clips with laser focus like he’s decoding national secrets.

“your weight distribution was off by 3% in round two.” bro how do you even know that?

secretly has your “top 10 verbal takedowns” saved to his phone. watches them when he needs cheering up.

he’s not impressed when you trash talk. he’s turned on.

you call someone “a wet mop with delusions” and he just raises an eyebrow like, hot.

refuses to sit in the VIP section, instead sits in the back so no one sees how fast he’s clapping when you land a KO.

“that punch was sloppy.” five minutes later in private: “... you looked good though.”

itoshi sae

you could be dragging your opponent across the ring by their hair and sae would still be in the front row sipping iced coffee like it’s a spa day.

literally unfazed. she’s choking someone? cool. what’s for dinner?

sometimes you don’t even notice he’s there until he shows up behind you post-match like, “hey. you’re bleeding. want tacos?”

thinks your trash talk is theatrical brilliance.

“she said ‘i’m gonna turn you into a cautionary tale’ and then actually did. love that for her.”

got banned from interviews because he kept answering on your behalf. “how do you feel about the win?” “she’s hungry. move.”

you're punching people, he's posting “date night ❤️” selfies.

isagi yoichi

isagi fell for your smile. the public fell for your fists.

he watches your matches like he’s witnessing a crime. jaw clenched, eyes wide, muttering prayers like a soccer mom watching an MMA bloodbath.

you’re standing over your KO’d opponent, shouting, “tell your coach to pick better fighters,” and he’s clapping like “yay baby good sportsmanship 👍”

pre-fight: “good luck, you got this ❤️”

post-fight: googling how to hide a body because you just ended someone's career.

once tried to “trash talk” your rival to hype you up and said, “you’re gonna get dropped so hard, your sponsors are gonna ghost you. better hope your wifi connection is stronger than your jaw.”

kisses your bruised knuckles gently like you’re a porcelain doll, not the reason three people retired early.

nagi seishiro

doesn’t understand anything about boxing but calls you “champ” with his whole chest.

falls asleep watching your replays. wakes up like, “oh nice punch babe.”

once live-tweeted your match with absolutely zero context: “she kicked someone. she’s mad. i want a sandwich.”

wore your merch to your match, but accidentally put it on backwards.

lets you practice moves on him but flops like a ragdoll after one jab. “ugh too hard. let me lay here. i’m your emotional support floor.”

told the team your pre-fight stare “felt like being hunted by a hot panther.”

thinks your trash talk is poetry. “you said she hits like a toddler with pool noodles? iconic.”

mikage reo

you’re the fists, he’s the PR team. this man markets your violence like a startup.

“she punches, she profits, she slays. watch the brand grow.”

always wearing your custom gloves around his neck like a necklace. people think he boxes, too. he does not.

posts ringside selfies with captions like: “date night 🥰✨ (she sent someone to the ER xoxo)”

gets personally offended when your opponent breathes in your direction.

“did she just look at you funny? okay, but WHO gave her that right.”

hands out business cards that say “a maneater’s boyfriend 💋”

has your catchphrases trademarked. yes, even the one where you threatened to turn someone’s ribs into origami.

kaiser michael

somehow thinks your fights are about him.

“she wins because she’s inspired by my greatness.” kaiser pls.

stands ringside with his arms crossed and a smirk like he’s the final boss of the match.

you said “i’m gonna fold her like a beach chair” and he printed it on a hoodie. wears it proudly.

reporters: “kaiser, are you afraid of your girlfriend’s aggression?”

kaiser: “afraid? i fuel it.”

makes you couple’s merch that says “she hits / he hollas”

once kissed you mid-match. literally interrupted the referee. said it was “good luck.” you still won.

karasu tabito

you flame someone during weigh-ins and he’s behind you whispering, “YEAH. GET HER ASS.”

follows your rival’s private account on twitter just to “hate more efficiently.”

“i’m not petty. i’m supportive.”

once shouted “THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND!!!” when you dislocated someone’s shoulder.

analyzes your fights like a reality show. “did you see her face when you landed that hook? chef’s kiss.”

lets you demonstrate chokeholds on him just so he can say, “yeah, she does this to me at home, too.”

acts scared around you for fun. “i told her i forgot to do the dishes and she did a spinning elbow. i think i blacked out. she’s so cute.”

bachira meguru

paints your face on a flag. brings it to every match.

screams “GET HER, BABE! TURN HER INTO A HUMAN PRETZEL!!” from the sidelines.

once tried to jump into the ring mid-fight because “your foot looked lonely. i wanted to help.”

you: death glares your opponent pre-match.

bachira: “aw she’s so pretty when she’s homicidal 🥰”

makes you fan edits that go viral.

also made one of your KO punches into a meme template. it’s now used in sports arguments across the internet.

your opponent: “you suck.”

bachira, holding up a glitter sign: “say that again but louder so everyone can hear my girlfriend crack your jaw.”

shidou ryusei

lives for the chaos. you throw one punch and he’s tearing his shirt off in the stands.

“THAT’S MY GIRL!!! KICK HER IN THE TEETH!!!”

got banned from five venues for excessive screaming. wears it like a badge of honor.

tried to propose mid-fight once. while you were punching someone.

rewatches your KO clips with suspicious enthusiasm. “look at that form. look at that power. i’m so in love with her violence.”

also calls you pet names like “bloodthirsty babe” and “my precious little war crime.”

100% believes you could take him in a fight. wants you to prove it.

246 notes · View notes

vianeptvne · 3 days ago

Text

ASTRO PLACEMENTS/ASPECTS NOTES [01]

🕯️ MERCURY SQUARE NEPTUNE ੈ✩‧₊˚

── this aspect can indicate difficulties surrounding one's ability to effectively connect with those around them. the native may communicate in a way that is "elusive" to others, resulting in feeling misunderstood or isolated. this can also indicate a very literal barrier in terms of language or one's speaking abilities, or struggling in neurotypical learning environments. this doesn't mean that the native is unintelligent, or intentionally trying to come across as deceptive to others. rather, their understanding of the world and reality as a whole is vastly different than the average person. they tend to be very imaginative and artistic individuals, and as a result they usually have a "spiritual" or poetic way of interpreting and explaining things.

── it would benefit these natives to take on habits or practices that grant them the ability to stay grounded, all the while holding space for their need to escape to the imaginative worlds they create for themselves. they may need to work towards developing the ability to remain practical in situations that call for objectivity, rather than being too passive. despite their hardships, when these natives maintain balance between self-discipline and their creativity, they're able utilize both of these skills to to navigate life and excel in their endeavors. in terms of spirituality, they tend to manifest things very easily, and typically encounter messages in the astral realm that provide clarity to the things that they experience in their reality.

🕯️ MOON SQUARE SATURN ੈ✩‧₊˚

── this is one of the most difficult aspects in astrology, in my personal opinion. these natives tend to struggle with a significant amount of emotional turmoil as a result of challenges in their childhood, and/or strife between themselves and their mothers (or any relevant maternal figures). due to a lack of control in their youth, they can come across as authoritative or domineering to others. they tend to exhibit this behavior so as to not feel like they're being subjected to the same "coldness" they encountered growing up. this can manifest in the opposite way, where the native could struggle with self-compassion, and adopt extremely codependent, self-destructive habits as a means to find it through other people.

── these natives could benefit from having mentors, or older, wise figures they can look to for guidance and clarity in times of strife. they tend to encounter situations in adulthood that call for them to unlearn the unhealthy mindsets they developed as children. it's not an easy process, but it's crucial that these natives grow and evolve to a point where they can feel and express their emotions without feelings of fear, shame, or guilt. as doing so will lead to far more fulfilling relationships, both with others and with themselves.

🕯️ JUPITER TRINE URANUS ੈ✩‧₊˚

── those with this aspect tend to have a very enthusiastic, open-minded approach to life. these natives usually have an innate interest in all things unorthodox, and seek to research and learn about more unconventional matters. their lifestyle could also revolve heavily around technology in some way shape or form. the quote, "being right too soon is socially unacceptable," by Robert Heinlein could be applicable to their lives, as their ideals tend to be very progressive in nature as a result of their extremely strong foresight. they can carry themselves in a way that others may deem contentious, but with the harmony of the trine, this could be a trait that is actually deemed admirable by others, and they may even be viewed as pioneers of their generation as a result.

── these natives tend to attract the attention of others by default, even if it's not necessarily their intent. they have a way of expressing their individuality that innately draws people in. as a result of their independent nature, coupled with their ability to be optimistic in the face of whatever it is that life throws at them, they could find themselves in positions of leadership. their creativity lends itself in their favor in times of crisis, as they are more likely to view hardships as opportunities, rather than challenges.

🕯️ MERCURY SEXTILE ASCENDANT ੈ✩‧₊˚

── these natives are typically viewed by others as clever, quick-witted individuals. even if they're more on the reserved side, their intelligence is usually something that doesn't go unnoticed by others. they tend to be excellent communicators, and may have a habit of being very expressive, specifically with their hands and arms. their ability to articulate their thoughts and ideas to others is probably their most favorable characteristic, alongside their ability to adapt when collaborating with other people. they could also have a knack for reading others through their body language as well.

── understanding new or unfamiliar information usually comes easy to them due to their open-minded, optimistic outlook on life. they tend to have a habit of jumping from idea to idea and have the capacity to see things from every perspective. while this could manifest as a sense of restlessness or anxiousness (depending on the full context of the chart), the sextile here provides an ease to this mercurial energy. while these natives may have to work towards developing the ability to focus on the bigger picture rather than the minutia, their need to tend to the latter still works in their favor more often than not, and is typically lends itself as more of a skill rather than a detriment.

🕯️ MARS TRINE PLUTO ੈ✩‧₊˚

── this aspect provides the native with an extremely strong-willed approach to their goals. they tend to have a very prominent sense of ambition and determination, but these tend to be underlying characteristics that the native holds close to themselves. despite their reserved nature, this energy is usually something that others are able to pick up on very easily. these natives usually find that others tend to be very receptive in cases where they assert themselves, and it could even be something that others find attractive as well. there's a prominent sex appeal that these natives tend to have that they're able to utilize in order to achieve their goals, and their sexuality generally may be of great importance to them. they tend to have a lot of stamina when it comes to intimacy, and they usually seek a partner that can match that energy.

── power struggles can be prevalent with this aspect, but these struggles typically don't manifest as negatively as they would with the square or opposition. mars/pluto natives tend to push back against authoritative behavior from others and don't react kindly when put in situations where others seek to control them. with the trine, there's usually more of a constructive approach to the expression of the energy between these planets. a healthy manifestation of this aspect would appear as dedicating this intense, persistent energy towards self-transformation. these natives need to ensure that they're using their power as a means to heal, rather than exerting it upon others as a means for control.

🕯️ JUPITER CONJUNCT SATURN ੈ✩‧₊˚

── natives with this aspect tend to have a pretty good grasp on how to maintain harmony between their need for expansion and their need for structure. if the full context of the natal chart points to this aspect manifesting positively, this can indicate that the native will reap the benefits of their hard work and dedication to attaining the life that they aspire to have, typically later in life or post their first saturn return. they tend to have very grand dreams and desires, and saturn's influence here forges a stable, structured pathway to achieve them. on the contrary, if jupiter or saturn are afflicted, this can indicate struggling with feelings of restlessness or apprehensiveness. they can struggle at times with overestimating their capacity to get things done, or struggle with being too immovable and stuck in their ways.

── these natives typically have to work towards maintaining equilibrium between their optimistic, open-minded nature, alongside their rational, more objective side. generally, these natives tend to excel as mentors and teachers, due to their innate fascination of knowledge and disciplined approach to learning. philosophy specifically could be of great interest to them, as well as religion and spirituality. they tend to be very dedicated to living life by the ideals that they believe in. this can also indicate inheritance through death as well.

🕯️ MARS SQUARE NEPTUNE ੈ✩‧₊˚

── with this aspect, there tends to be a lack of discernment in terms of taking action. they can stumble their way through trying to reach their goals, if they even get to taking the first steps at all. they may struggle at times with having an illusionary approach to life, and grow resentful or self-victimizing when they inevitability come face to face with reality. they can have difficulties surrounding their self-image, and as a result struggle with asserting themselves, addictive tendencies, or feelings of internalized shame. in conflict, others may view them as passive aggressive or vindictive. those around them can suspect them as having covert motives or being dishonest, even if that isn't indicative of their true behavior. this can also manifest in the opposite way, where they struggle to recognize the true intentions of others.

── these natives benefit greatly by implementing habits into their daily routines that keep them grounded. exercising, yoga (tantric specifically), or any practice where they're able to move their bodies and enter a meditative state could be beneficial to their mental and physical well being. journaling can be of value to them as well, as it grants them the ability to put words to their feelings and keep track of their emotions. having a creative outlet can help as well, as this is an aspect that grants the native with an innate artistic streak that they're able to express themselves through. they would also benefit from having reliable people around them who motivate them feel self-assured, to be accountable, and to stay on course to accomplish their goals.

🕯️ VENUS CONJUNCT MARS IN THE 7H ੈ✩‧₊˚

── natives with this aspect tend to be very charismatic and determined in relationships (both platonic and romantic). they're typically very dedicated, protective lovers, and can definitely have something of a "jealous streak", but this typically doesn't manifest in a detrimental way like the venus/mars square or opposition. this can indicate having an energy that others find attractive and benevolent, which can benefit the native not only in terms of romance, but also in terms of business partnerships. this aspect can lean itself to aiding the native in terms of work and career opportunities, as this indicates getting on well with their peers and social circle. their sexuality tends to be a significant aspect of their lives, and they may struggle at times to remain in long-term relationships where sex is mundane or boring, as they require excitability and stimulation when it comes to intimacy.

── if venus or mars are conflicted in the natal chart, and depending on the planetary ruler of the 7H, there could be difficulties with codependent and/or domineering behavior. in this case, the native must work towards finding harmony between their venusian and martian energy. typically, the relationship that the native had with the opposite sex parent growing up plays a significant role in how they show up in relationships as an adult, and it may be useful to look towards that dynamic to unpack what parts of themselves need to be healed in order to have healthy, functional relationships in adulthood.

🕯️ SUN SQUARE MOON ੈ✩‧₊˚

── with this aspect, there is innate tension between the head and the heart. these natives struggle to find unity between what it is that they need to feel accomplished and what it is that they need in order to feel safe. there may have been tension between the parents, or tension between themselves and either (or both) of their parents that had a major impact on their identity and confidence. they may be perceived at times as emotionally unstable by others, and struggle at times to rein in their feelings and act from a place of objectivity. these difficulties can also have a negative impact on the native's personal relationships, and ultimately influence self-sabotaging behavior.

── these natives typically need to work towards unpacking their inner turmoil and where this tension stems from, so that they can approach conflict in their everyday life from a place that is rational rather than reactive. through growth and acceptance, they can attain harmony between their need for independence and their need to feel emotionally secure. regardless of their hardships, these natives have the determination and strength that grants them the ability to power through whatever obstacle life throws their way.

🕯️ SATURN TRINE ASCENDANT ੈ✩‧₊˚

── this aspect can indicate being perceived as someone who is very knowledgable, responsible, and perhaps too rigid at times. these natives tend to have an air of authority to them, and because of this people can be inclined to turn to them for leadership or assistance in times of crisis. while this isn't inherently as negative as the square or opposition, these natives may grow to feel overburdened with taking accountability for others if they don't implement boundaries in their relationships. they typically have a very measured approach to life, and are usually respected for their ability to focus and remain on track in high-stake situations.

── saturn on the ascendant can provide something akin to a "mask" when it comes to the native's emotions, due to this they can come off as aloof or distant to those around them. they may find that they get on easier with authority figures, mentors, or older people rather than their peers as a result of their more mature or "serious" demeanor. in terms of physicality, their bones/tendons/ligaments, teeth, skin, etc. can be prominent in terms of both vitality and appearance. personally, i've noticed that saturn/ascendant natives tend to have issues with their back, and/or start greying younger than most.

🕯️ MERCURY SEXTILE MARS ੈ✩‧₊˚

── these natives tend to have very agile, fast-paced minds. they can be somewhat blunt when communicating with others, but this tendency is usually perceived more so as honesty rather than aggression. they also have a charm to them that allows them to get away with more than someone with the opposition/square between these planets could. they typically view knowledge as an extremely valuable tool, which is why they usually take joy in debates and intellectual spars with others. these natives may also have a flirtatious nature about them, or simply appear that way to others whether they intend to or not.

── while there can be a difficulty for them to focus at times, their restless nature can work in their favor more often than not, as they are typically very inspired and ambitious in their pursuit of learning and processing new information. this, paired with their risk-taking nature, can lead them to positions of power and leadership. they may have to work towards not being too self aggrandizing, and recognize the value in what they can learn from those around them and how much they can benefit from working alongside others.

🕯️ SUN SQUARE JUPITER ੈ✩‧₊˚

── with this aspect, misjudgment can be a prominent, recurring theme in the natives life. with sun/jupiter placements, there's typically an innate ease when it comes to manifesting one's desires, with the square, difficulties can arise with overconsumption, and more specifically, with overestimating one's abilities. as i've said before, jupiter is a planet that will match your energy, which is why it's important to have moderation and self-control when it's aspecting a personal planet. with the sun square jupiter, pride and gluttony can have disastrous effects to the native's life and relationships with others.

── these natives may struggle with seeking affirmation and approval from others when it comes to their talents and accomplishments. it's important for these natives to recognize that their worth is not derivative of materialism or external praise, rather, it's something that is innate, that you have to find within yourself. this can also manifest as a stubborn, over-dedication to one's ideals or spiritual beliefs that can cause friction in their day to day lives. ultimately, it's important for these natives to recognize the importance in approaching life from a place tact and objectivity. this doesn't mean that they must dilute their optimistic, jovial nature. rather, they need to find balance, and know when to take off the rose-colored lenses and take a more rational approach.

🕯️ URANUS SEXITLE PLUTO ੈ✩‧₊˚

[this is a generational aspect, meaning the people born under this transit will collectively share this energy. the "relevance" it has in your chart will be reflected by how tight the orb is, as well as where uranus and pluto fall in your houses, and what personal planets they're aspecting.]

── these natives tend to be very radical and unconventional in their approach to life. they can encounter a lot of transformative experiences in their lives that push them towards growth and self-actualization. in turn, they wish to see the collective as a whole evolve for the better, and due to their strong foresight, they're able to visualize the steps that must be taken in order to bring change to our reality. what others may view as being disruption or chaos, these natives view as opportunities for development.

── if this is a prominent aspect in one's natal chart, it can indicate that they will be something of a "pioneer" for their generation. the role they play will be related to dismantling and rebuilding traditional structures in order to make way for more relevant, updated means of living as a society. activism and humanitarian work can be of great importance to them, and they may excel in these fields due to their open-minded understanding of both themselves, and of others.

🕯️ MARS OPPOSITE SATURN ੈ✩‧₊˚

── with this aspect, there tends to be an push and pull between one's desire to act and their need for structure. these natives may encounter their fair share of hardships on their path to success. a major lesson for these natives may be learning to approach these obstacles with a level head, rather than from a place from resentment and anger. if this is a prominent aspect in the natal chart, it's possible that these natives have a reputation for their temperament, due to their instinct to bottle up their feelings and hold on to residual discontent, which can result in outbursts that can have a negative impact on their character, relationships, and health.

── it's crucial that they have outlets that allow them to release any pent up energy in a healthy, constructive way. in doing so, this also helps them to develop a sense of self-control and confidence. this is also an aspect that can struggle with others impeding upon their independence. it's important that these natives heal any wounds regarding authority, as the un-evolved energy of this aspect can lead to domineering behavior and control issues. when worked through, the energy of this aspect can lend itself to aid the native in effectively working towards and accomplishing their goals.

🕯️ MOON CONJUNCT SOUTH NODE ੈ✩‧₊˚

── with this aspect, the domestic life and matters related to the family/maternal figures reveal what the native needs to let go of in order to evolve spiritually. there may be habits or beliefs passed down from one's family that restrict the native from connecting to their higher self. despite this, they tend to have a very strong intuition and are able to pick up on the emotions of others very easily, although, they may struggle at times with feelings of insecurity and not feeling stable. their childhood, or home life in general, could be where these feelings of anxiety stem from specifically.

── if unchecked, this aspect can fester into feelings of codependency, or a "savior-complex", especially in romantic connections. it's crucial for these natives to sit with themselves and unpack their relationship to giving and receiving nourishment, as this will help in healing the turbulent, emotional wounds they house within themselves. they must work to recognize that their sensitivity is not a flaw or something to be ashamed of, rather, it's a characteristic that has the capacity to aid in their growth, rather than hinder them.

🕯️ VENUS SQUARE SATURN ੈ✩‧₊˚

── those with this aspect can encounter a fair amount of hardships regarding relationships and self-worth. they may have struggled with insecurities regarding their physical appearance in youth that follow them into adulthood, which can impact how they navigate romantic connections with others. they may attract partners that are domineering or controlling, or they may exhibit this behavior towards their partner themselves. it's also possible that these relationships are long-distance, or there is an age-gap present. with age and maturity, these natives may find more ease not only in romance, but in their relationship to themselves as well.

── working with this aspect requires healing the parts of yourself that are deeper than the superficialities assigned to venus; you will not love or respect yourself more by adhering to unattainable beauty standards or over-consuming trending products and fashion. with venus square saturn, there is innate restriction placed upon one's values, specifically, the worth that the native assigns to themselves, resulting in depression or a pessimistic approach to life. to heal this aspect means to develop a sense of love and respect for oneself that is innate, rather than looking to material means or other people to provide it for them.

🕯️ MARS SQUARE NORTH NODE ੈ✩‧₊˚

── with this aspect, one's impulse and temperament can cause difficulties in their ability to grow towards the person that they need to become. these natives can be stubborn or immovable in how they approach their goals, and more specifically, how they engage with their personal growth and evolution. for these natives, it's important for them to practice patience, and to seek fulfillment through working with others, rather than prioritizing their independence.

── it's usually with age that we're able to grow and evolve to a point where we can embrace the qualities that our north node pushes us towards. with mars square north node, the lesson to be learned here is understanding when a risk is worth being taken, versus knowing when to recede and step down. these natives must recognize the importance in expressing their passion from a place of determination, rather than resentment or rage.

🕯️ MIDHEAVEN SEXTILE PLUTO ੈ✩‧₊˚

── this aspect can indicate having an tenacious, relentless approach to one's career. these natives can be perceived as polarizing by the public, or have a reputation that is somewhat controversial in nature. they may go through many changes in their professions, work in fields that are taboo in nature, or work with people who are deemed outcasts by society (e.g. social work, counseling, the occult, sex work, creative arts, psychology, research, etc.) these natives can find themselves in positions of power quite easily, as they tend to have a magnetic energy about them that they can use to their advantage.

── their dedication to the careers can be obsessive in nature, and as a result they may need to work to implement balance between their work and home life. if pluto falls in the 10H, it's possible that these natives may have had a relationship to either of their parents (or any relevant authority figures in their youth) that was deeply transformative in nature, and shaped the way that they approach their professional lives and are received by the public and their peers. they have an innate understanding of the human psyche, and are able to utilize this knowledge to achieve goals in their career.

🕯️ URANUS IN THE 3H ੈ✩‧₊˚

── this placement can be indicative of experiencing a large amount of change in one's immediate environment. these natives may have moved around frequently growing up, changed schools a lot, or encountered frequent upheaval in their home lives, specifically related to any potential siblings. this can also manifest as a sense of "restlessness" regarding the native's immediate environment, they may struggle with having a mundane routine, and change their habits or travel frequently as a result.

── this can also indicate that the native's sense of individuality is very important to them. specifically, they may have very unorthodox, innovative ways of thinking and communicating their ideas, and can struggle when they feel as though those ideas are not understood or being taken seriously. this is an issue that could've been more prevalent in their early education, specifically in regards to their relationship with teachers or authority figures. these natives benefit most when they're around fellow, like-minded people, and generally seek to implement new ideas and thought processes to further advance those around them and the collective as a whole.

dividers by dollywons

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tarotlexa · 2 days ago

Text

PICK A PILE READING- how you treat others vs. how they treat you!

welcome back my loves to another pick a pile reading with yours truly, how is everyone doing? i hope you're all doing great <3

what i'm inviting you to do in this reading is self reflection, especially if you're one of those souls that gives more than they receive.

anyway, you know the drill. this is a collective reading so take what resonates and leave what does not, luv u <3

⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　.

.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　　　　,　　　　　　　　　*

　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　⠀　　　⠀.　

　　˚　　　⠀　⠀ 　　,　　　　　　.

　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀ 　　　　　⠀✦⠀　

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　.　　　　.　　　⠀

　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　.

　.⠀　　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,

　　　*　　⠀.

　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　⠀✦

　˚　　　　　　　　　　　　　　*

.⠀ 　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　.

　　　　　✦⠀　　　　,　　　　　　　　　　.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　.

.　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　　　　,　　　　　　　　　*

　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　⠀　　　⠀.　

　　˚　　　⠀　⠀ 　　,　　　　　　.

　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀ 　　　　　⠀✦⠀　

　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

　　　　.　　　　.　　　

　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　.

　.⠀　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,

　　　　　✦⠀　　　　,

pile 1: this pile made me feel so much tbh...it's like there's an innate hope inside you that's slowly fading away from dealing with shitty people. you want friends, you want love, you want connection but you're also afraid of it. you are such a kind soul to be honest, it's very possible that you have been taken advantage of before and i am truly sorry about that.

you want to be open, spontaneous, fun and careless (the fool) but you have been burned a few too many times to keep people at arm's length, by this point you simply know better. you are so guarded when it comes to new people into your life and i do not blame you for it, i believe it is natural to fear others after an array of bad events, one after the other.

you might be one of those souls that sees potential in people before the reality and you might confuse fantasy with love which is why you got let down before. there is a deep fear of loss or betrayal under the surface so you tend to withhold vulnerability until it feels safe enough to do so. you are also someone who tends to suppress their needs, you give people space to disappoint you because you are investing more in what they could be rather than what they actually are. you might gravitate towards passive partners/friends in your life, someone who won't plan anything until you do it yourself. the truth is, you don't need to do that. you don't need to earn love by doing more.

how others treat you: as i mentioned before, people don't really want to plan or actively participate in building something with you in terms of activities or connection because they feel like there's innate emotional distance between you and them. they're curious, they might even offer some consistency but they don't really take risks emotionally speaking, they tend to keep you in limbo (the hanged man) with stagnant situations, unsolved dynamics, it's like they forget you exist until you actually hit them up. people might also randomly text you to hang out last minute because they don't really prioritize you or your friendship or they promise you to hang out with you sometime soon and they never do. you might also be someone who had to switch friend groups often because people are attracted but they're sort of not ready to invest long term, you find yourself waiting and waiting, and just when you're about to give up they drop a breadcrumb or rush in with a surge of attention or promises only to not follow through once again. it is exhausting but at the same time i feel like you're sort of allowing for it to happen by staying friends/dating this type of people. they do not serve you well at all.

you are carrying emotional loads that were never yours to bear in the first place, you deserve to be someone's priority rather than a last minute back up plan. you don’t have to carry the weight of every unspoken conversation, every failed connection. your healing starts when you choose ease. choose someone who shares the burden, not someone who adds to it. you are absolutely worthy of reciprocity pile one and i hope you'll stop accepting crumbs soon.

pile 2: you are someone who loves and supports people in silence or in secret. you study people before deciding to interact with them, you get to know their soul before sharing yours. you are someone who really cares about loyalty, you are protective of your circle and you are extremely patient with them but something tells me that you're lonely, even if you hide it with intellect and sarcasm. you want to be known but you rarely let yourself be seen and then you wonder why nobody gets you, you're the friend who always checks in but never says "hey i'm actually struggling too" and i feel like that adds another layer of complexity to you, pile 2. it's hard to admit to be human too when others expect you to be the total opposite of that in a way. you're always the strong one, in all of your relationships and that makes you retreat further more emotionally.

how others treat you: people admire you, especially for your ride or die attitude for your friends. unfortunately there's also this feeling of an imbalanced dynamic where people expect you to act the way they want you to, everything has to be done on their terms and your feelings and needs might get cast aside, especially in planning. people around you might want you around yes but on their terms, your time is taken for granted and the roles here seem pretty rigid to me. they assume you have it all together, you might be the therapist or confidante friend. people also kind of want to control you, like they want you to fix them?? lol it's weird because they do respect you (again, in their own way) but they also want you to fit into their ideal. they expect you to be this ultimate hype girl persona without giving the same in return, weird. you deserve tenderness and someone who sees through your armor, you're strong but it doesn't mean that you don't deserve to be held, not just admired. your softness is not a weakness, let others nurture it too. you are a gift, not a burden. <3

pile 3: you always show up for others, you are the ultimate support friend. life of the party mixed with the therapist and mom friend all at the same time. you love in a truly generous, nostalgic way, you also tend to be the emotional anchor in your relationships, offering others insights on their needs and emotions. it's like people need you to tell them what's wrong with them and how they can fix it lmao, they feel like they need you because you're someone who's seen as a problem solver. you always know what to do. you are supportive, loyal and VERY invested in your circles and mutual growth and seeing others win. truly a one of a kind friend. you bring memories, magic, devotion and fairy dust to any of your relationships, you make people feel so seen and safe pile 3, but do they extend the same love to you? you create so many core memories for people, you're someone who's always present in other people's stories and fun facts but i feel like those people are simply not giving you back the same energy.

how others treat you: this is heavy because you might be someone who attracts narcissists or unavailable numbed individuals into your life, they're not here to extend the same sort of love to you, they're here to be healed by you. you give soul level love to people who are emotionally bankrupt, especially in love. i am sorry but it feels like people in your life are lowkey disappointing, they ghost you, they leave you even after all of that. you offer them true, pure partnership and they offer regret and pain, thanks i guess? many of the people you love are emotionally unavailable and don't know how to give back, not out of malice but because they're empty. you cannot fix them. you're not a shelter on a mission to rescue wounded people from themselves or their apathy, you are a LIGHT in this world and you deserve someone present and way better than anybody else who has left you before. you are allowed to move on from people who can't meet you in your fullness, new beginnings are always possible. you are a literal angel, your emotional generosity is sacred. stop chasing ghosts, i beg you.

thank you so much for reading, have a lovely day/night <3

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purplereina11 · 19 hours ago

Text

In a match where the scoreboard tells only half the story, a fierce on-pitch rivalry between you and football royalty, Alexia Putellas, evolves into something electric — something unspoken, but deeply felt. Between the lines two players lock eyes, trade touches, and blur the line between competition and connection. What begins as a game becomes a gravity neither can resist.

Part 3: 36 hours in Munich

Word Count: 8k

⚽️

You’re in the locker room, post-session. Freshly changed but, pulse still settling, water bottle half-drunk and rolling somewhere near your bench. Everyone’s moving slow — stretches, recovery gear, shower queues. Typical post-training lull.

But you’re pacing already packing away, quicker than normal, you normally linger for longer. You sit finally. Jacket half-zipped. Legs twitchy, breath short, heart doing sprints while your teammates are winding down.

You check your phone for the sixth time in two minutes. Still nothing. Still soon.

“Alright,” a voice cuts through behind you. “Who is it?”

You look toward the voice. Georgia. Leaning against the wall, towel over her shoulder, one brow cocked. You blink. “What?”

“You’re all… shifty.” She waves a vague circle around you. “Nicely-dressed, hair down. You keep checking your phone like it's gonna grow lips.”

You try to brush it off. “It’s nothing.”

Georgia doesn’t even flinch. “Liar. Spill it.”

You stare at her for a second. You weren’t going to tell anyone. But something about her tone — casual but not cruel — makes your chest loosen. And you need to say it out loud. Just once.

You sigh, grab your other boot, and sit. “She’s flying in.”

Georgia pauses. “She?” You assumed Beth would of blabbed by now.

You swallow. “Alexia.”

That name lands like a stone in a calm pool. Georgia blinks once. “Putellas?”

“Yeah.”

She’s staring now. Like full-body-turn, jaw-slightly-dropped, towel-falling-off-the-shoulder staring. “For… ?” she tries.

You sigh a hand going through your freshly washed hair. “For a day.”

Her mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again. “As in…”

You shrug, but you can’t help the way your face warms. “Yeah. As in that. She followed me after the home game against Barca, after the away game, that's when she first started DM'ing me" You smile at Georgia's mouth hanging open.

"Saying what?"

"Football stuff mainly, about the games, but after the last game at Wembley, she asked if she could come here to see me. I said yes.”

Georgia whistles low. “Bloody hell. You’re actually—” she stops herself. “Wait. Are you nervous?”

You nod, fast and helpless. “I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

She laughs, loud and bright. “You scored a free kick at Wembley in front of ninety thousand, but you’re sweating because the Queen of Barcelona herself is flying in for a sleepover?”

You put your hand out, "You say it like they're not both just as equally massive" You groan, head in hands. “Why did I tell you.”

Georgia grins. “Because you needed to.” She slaps your back once, warm and steady. “She’ll have a nice time I'm sure. And you're interesting when your social battery is full. Just don’t overthink it.” You look up. Georgia’s still smiling — not teasing now. Just sure. “Go get the girl from the airport,” she says. “Don't over think it, just take it for what it is, it's her idea to come here so let her lead what it is"

You roll your eyes. But you’re nodding too. Because yeah — it’s real now. She’s coming. And you have to be ready.

“Meado knows about mine and Alexia’s conversations, she doesn’t know about her coming. If you know, you need to freak out about this when I’m gone”

⚽️

The car is parked just beyond the pickup loop, engine idling low. Your hoodie’s half-zipped, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other drumming nervously against your thigh. You’ve been here twenty minutes early, but you’d never admit it.

Your phone lights up with a text.

Alexia: Just got my bag. Coming out now.

You swallow hard.

You glance in the rearview mirror, tug at your hair, check your reflection. You don’t even know why — it’s her, you’ve already been through matches and mud and bruises together — but somehow, this is different.

It’s real. And quiet. And outside the lines. The terminal doors slide open again. A few people walk out. Not her. Another group. Still not. Your fingers tap faster.

Then there she is. Alexia. Dressed in all black, sunglasses pushed up into her hair, duffel bag over her shoulder. She walks out calm, casual, that familiar captain’s posture in every step. But her eyes are already searching.

And the second she sees you, they soften. You watch her approach through the windshield, heart thudding so hard you’re sure she’ll hear it before she even opens the door.

She pulls it open and slides into the passenger seat with that impossible grace, dropping her bag between her feet. You look at her.

She looks at you. And for a second, neither of you says a thing.

“Hey,” you breathe, voice barely above the hum of the engine.

“Hey,” she says back, softer.

You both smile. It’s awkward and perfect and so much. “I can’t believe you’re actually here,” you say as you pull out into traffic.

She leans back in the seat, eyes still on you. “I told you,” she murmurs. “I didn’t want to miss you.”

The city rolls past in a blur of grey and gold. Low sunlight spills across the dashboard, and the soft thrum of music — something wordless and warm — fills the quiet between you.

You’re both a little awkward. Not painfully so. Just… cautiously new.

It’s strange, this version of her — in your passenger seat, seatbelt clicking into place, fingers drumming lightly on her thigh. She’s looking out the window, but keeps glancing at you when she thinks you won’t notice.

You notice. “Airport was easy, then?” you ask, just to fill the silence.

She nods. “Very. One person tried to sneak a photo. But I gave them the look.”

You smirk. “The full ‘Putellas Death Glare’?”

“Level three only,” she says, mock serious. “Mild warning.”

You laugh under your breath, relaxing a little. Her accent’s thicker in person, softer in a car. You don’t know why that makes your stomach twist the way it does.

She glances at you again, a little longer this time. “It’s weird,” she murmurs. “Hearing you talk without a crowd around us.”

You smile. “You’ll get used to it.”

You make it through another light, and the silence stretches — still easy, but expectant.

Then suddenly — you freeze. “Oh shit.”

Alexia blinks. “What?”

You wince. “I forgot to tell you something kind of… important.”

She turns in her seat, curious. “What did you forget?”

You drum your fingers on the wheel. “I have a dog.”

Alexia blinks again. Then a slow smile tugs at her lips. “That’s what you forgot?”

“Well, yeah,” you say, already cringing. “I just—I meant to tell you. I’m not one of those people who spring dogs on people. He’s sweet. I swear.”

She’s laughing now — full, rich, effortless. “You make it sound like you’ve got a bear waiting at the door.”

“He’s just… enthusiastic,” you say, biting your lip. “His name’s Teddy.”

Alexia tilts her head, teasing. “Named after?”

“Teddy bear. Don’t judge me.”

She holds up both hands. “No judgment. But I can’t believe you didn’t lead with that.”

You glance at her. “Still time to turn around, you know.”

She smiles wider, looking straight ahead again. “I came here to see you,” she says softly. “Teddy’s just a bonus.”

And just like that, the nerves quiet. Just a little.

⚽️

You pull into the parking spot in the street, heart suddenly faster than it was on the pitch at Wembley.

Alexia’s quiet beside you, seatbelt undone, hands folded in her lap. But you feel her eyes on you as you kill the engine and sit for a second longer than necessary.

“This is it,” you say, finally, looking up at your loft apartment on the third floor

She nods. “Cute street.”

You grin. “Cute flat.”

She smirks. “Cute dog?”

You shoot her a look. “He’s trying his best.”

You both laugh as you get out. The early evening air is cool, the sky dipping into that soft lilac blue. You grab her small bag from the boot, and as you unlock the door, you hesitate.

“He might bark.”

“I can handle it,” she says, smiling.

You push the door open. It takes exactly one second.

Teddy barrels around the corner, all paws and excitement, nails tapping on the floor like a drumroll. His tail is going wild, and he’s already launching toward you when he spots the new presence behind you.

Alexia steps in, closing the door behind her. Teddy freezes. Then bolts straight for her.

You open your mouth to intervene—“Teddy, no!”—but before you can, Alexia’s already crouching down, calm and soft.

“Hola, precioso,” she murmurs, holding out a hand. And Teddy melts.

Tail wagging, head pressing into her palm, tongue ready for her cheek like she’s his long-lost soulmate.

You blink. “Well,” you mutter, “traitor.”

Alexia looks up at you, grinning as she scratches behind his ears. “He has taste,” she says. “Clearly.”

You lean against the doorframe, watching her — hair falling into her face, Teddy now rolling onto his back like he’s never known loyalty — and something in your chest settles. Warms.

Alexia stands, finally, brushing dog fur from her knees.

“Welcome to Germany,” you say, quieter now.

She doesn’t look away when she answers. “Thanks,” she says. “It already feels like a good idea.”

And for the first time all day, you believe you can relax. Because she’s here. This is just the beginning.

You toe off your shoes by the door, glance back to find Alexia standing just inside, Teddy still sniffing reverently at her shoes like he’s found royalty. Her bag’s at her feet, her jacket draped over her arm.

You clear your throat. “Right—um. Tour.”

She smiles like she’s already charmed. “I’m ready.”

You lead her into the main space — open-plan living room and kitchen. The walls are clean, but lived-in. A few photos on a shelf — one of the squad after a cup match, another of you and Beth pulling stupid faces at the camera. A soft throw blanket is half-fallen off the back of the couch. A candle you forgot you lit earlier is still flickering on the coffee table.

“This is the, uh—living-slash-existing space,” you say, gesturing vaguely. “Teddy thinks it belongs to him.”

Teddy immediately hops onto the couch, circles twice, and settles like you’ve just proven his point. Alexia grins.

You lead her into the kitchen, flicking on the under-counter light. “I don’t cook much, but the kettle works. Coffee pods are in here.” You tap a cupboard. “Mugs — there.”

She opens it, scans the shelves. “All mismatched.”

You shrug. “I collect them. Kind of.”

“I like it,” she says, softly. “It feels like someone lives here.”

You duck your head, smiling.

You show her the bathroom next — small, clean, stocked with too many hair ties and one towel you warn her not to use because it’s definitely Teddy’s now.

And then the hallway. Two doors.

“That one’s mine,” you say, thumb over your shoulder. “The other’s yours while you’re here.”

She doesn’t hesitate. Just peeks inside. A double bed, made neatly. Fresh towels folded at the foot.

She steps inside. Smiles softly looking around more.

You clear your throat. “I didn’t want it to feel weird.”

“It doesn’t,” she says. “It feels like you thought about it.”

“I did,” you admit.

It slips out quieter than you mean it to, but you don’t take it back.

Alexia meets your eyes. “Thank you. For having me.”

You nod toward the room. “Make yourself at home, yeah? My place is your place.”

She steps a little closer. Not much. Just enough that you feel her presence like a hum. “I already feel at home,” she says.

And the way she says it. It makes your chest ache. In the best way. You raise your eyes when they moved away from hers, "I'll um, leave you to unpack" you take a step back, "Teddy" you call, he appears around the foot of the bed, "Come" you give Alexia one final look and you walk back down the hallway.

She smiled opening her bag as she heard you chatting away to Teddy about getting him some treats, asking for various tricks from him.

⚽️

You tried to cook. You really did. But somewhere between boiling the pasta and burning the garlic, you gave up and ordered takeaway. Alexia didn’t mind. In fact, she looked almost relieved.

Now you’re both curled up on the couch, watching a show on a streaming app neither of you are paying attention to, warm plates in your laps and the soft, flickering glow of your fairy lights stretching across the ceiling.

She’s in one of your hoodies now. You hadn’t meant to offer it — just handed it over without thinking when she mentioned how cold planes make her feel.

It swallows her in all the right ways.

Teddy’s curled at your feet. Loyal again. For now.

“Okay,” she says mid-bite, glancing at you. “I need to know something.”

You look over, wiping your fingers on a napkin. “What?”

She gestures with her fork. “Do you actually like this pasta place, or is it just close?”

You fake a gasp. “You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that,” she says, trying to hide her smile. “I just—your face when you handed it to me said, ‘This is the best I’ve got, but I know it’s not the best in the world.’”

You laugh. “Alright, yeah. It’s proximity-based love.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Respect.”

The TV plays something forgettable in the background — neither of you are really watching it. The kind of background noise that just fills in the edges of something far more focused. Like the way she’s sitting. One leg folded beneath her, turned just slightly toward you. Or the way you’re watching her mouth more than listening to her words.

She puts her plate down on the coffee table, wipes her hands, then leans back. “You were nervous,” she says suddenly.

You blink. “When?”

“Earlier. At the airport. In the car.”

You roll your eyes. “Was it that obvious?”

She smiles, soft and real. “A little.”

You look down at your plate, then back at her. “I just… didn’t want it to feel weird.”

Alexia tilts her head slightly. “It doesn’t. You make it easy.”

That catches you off guard. You blink once, then set your plate down too. The silence stretches. But it’s not awkward. It’s warm. “I’m glad you came,” you say.

She leans her head back against the couch, eyes on you now in that slow, deliberate way she does everything. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” she says.

Alexia is fiddling with the sleeve of your hoodie — pulling at the hem with her thumb like she doesn’t realise she’s doing it. She’s not really looking at you. Not often. Just quick glances. Then back down. Then away.

You’re talking about random things. Easy things. Football. Training. Travel. Things you are confident you have in common.

She tells you about a weird airport coffee she had in Zurich. You tell her about the time Teddy accidentally got locked in your bathroom for 20 minutes and emerged looking personally betrayed.

And every now and then, there’s a pause that lasts a little longer than it should. But neither of you fill it. You just let it be. Eventually, you nudge your leg gently against hers. “You’re quiet.”

Alexia shifts. “Am I?”

You smile. “A little. For someone who just flew here to hang out with me.”

She huffs a quiet laugh. It’s barely there. “I’m just…” She trails off. Shrugs. “I’m not good at this part.”

You tilt your head. “What part?”

She stares at the coffee table like it’s got answers. “The talking part.” You wait. She finally looks at you — really looks. “I know how to show up to a match,” she says, voice low. “How to lead. How to win. That makes sense to me. But this?” She gestures between you. “This is…” She doesn’t finish.

You finish it for her. “New.”

She nods. And for a second, you think maybe she’s going to stand up, shift away, hide behind something safe. But she doesn’t. She just sits there. Awkward. Present. Willing.

You offer a small, understanding smile. “We don’t have to figure it all out tonight.”

She exhales, a little lighter now. “Good. Because I didn’t bring a tactics board.”

You both laugh. Softly. Easily. She doesn’t say anything else for a while — just leans back again, arms crossed over her chest now, head tilted slightly in your direction.

Eventually, she mumbles, almost like it’s for herself, “I’m glad I came too.” You nudge her foot with yours, with a gentle smile.

Alexia’s sitting sideways on the couch, one leg tucked under her, the other stretched out slightly, your hoodie sleeves pushed halfway up her forearms. You’re close, but not quite touching.

The conversation’s slowed to a hum — soft music talk, playlists, half-confessions about guilty pleasure songs. She mentions a Catalan band you’ve never heard of, and while she’s scrolling through her phone to find a song, your eyes drift downward.

And then you see it. A couple of faint lines on her knee. Pale, clean, but unmistakable. The scar. You pause. Not out of shock — you knew. You remember the coverage, the months out, the comeback.

But seeing it? That’s different. It’s not just a story now. It’s her. She notices your eyes drop. And for the first time all night, she goes still.

“Yeah,” she says softly, not quite looking at you. “That’s… that.”

You meet her eyes again. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t hide. But there’s something guarded in her voice. Like she’s used to people staring at it, asking about it, expecting something from it. You don’t ask. You just nod once, gentle. “Looks like strength,” you say, matter-of-fact.

Alexia’s brow furrows, unsure if you’re serious. But you are. She shifts slightly — not closer, but more open somehow. Her hand moves instinctively toward her knee, fingers grazing the scar once, like she’s reminding herself it’s still there.

“Sometimes it feels like I left a part of myself in there,” she murmurs. “The version of me from before.”

You let that hang. Then, quietly, “The version of you now scored against me. Twice.”

She huffs a breath. “Only one actually went in.”

“Still counts.”

She glances at you — and her smile is tired, genuine, laced with something like gratitude. Not for the words. For the way you didn’t try to fix it. Just saw it. And stayed.

The playlist she queued has faded into a quiet acoustic hum — soft, wordless, like it knows it shouldn’t interrupt. The light in the room has gone warm and low, one lamp casting golden arcs over her face as she leans back into the couch, knee still bent, hand still ghosting near the scar.

You don’t speak. You wait. And eventually — slowly — she does.

“I didn’t think I’d come back,” she says, voice low, eyes fixed on the ceiling like it’s easier not to look at you. “Not really.”

You blink, still, letting her keep control of it.

“Everyone kept saying I would. That I’d be fine. That I was strong, that I’d be back in a year. But inside…” She swallows. “I didn’t feel strong. I didn’t even feel whole. I felt… like I’d been cut out of myself.”

You shift just slightly. Not closer — not yet. But enough to let her know, I’m here. She breathes, slow.

“I’d watch games and feel like I didn’t belong anymore. Like I’d already been replaced. And I didn’t want anyone to know how scared I was because… I’m not supposed to be scared. I’m her, you know?” She finally looks at you now. “La Reina” You meet her eyes, steady. She adds, barely audible, “But I felt like glass.”

The words hang in the room — fragile, but not broken. You nod once. Then say the only thing you really believe in this moment. “I think you’re better now.”

Her brow pulls, confused. “What?”

You lean back, resting your head on the couch, looking up like she did. “You’re smarter. Sharper. Your passes don’t just thread — they cut. You’ve got control most people don’t even understand. And there’s a weight to the way you move now, like you know exactly what it costs to step back onto the pitch.”

You turn your head to her again.

“I’ve watched you before. Really watched you. You were always brilliant. But now?” You shrug. “You’re something else.”

Alexia stares at you, mouth parted slightly — like no one’s ever said it that way. Not like that. Not to her. She doesn’t say thank you. She just shifts — this time closer. Not dramatic. Just enough. Her shoulder brushes yours. Her knee bumps your thigh. And she lets out a breath that sounds a little like relief. “Thank you,” she murmurs eventually, eyes back on the scar. And then, softer: “I’ve never said that stuff out loud.”

You nod. “I know.” The quiet returns — not heavy this time. Comfortable. Like something sacred just happened, and you both know it.

She’s close now. Arm resting lightly against yours. Your hoodie sleeves bunching at her wrists. The scar still visible — but no longer raw. You glance down at her, the way her gaze has softened since she spoke, how her edges feel less guarded, like your living room gave her permission she didn’t even know she needed.

You swallow once. Think. Then speak. “You know… when I moved to Germany, people said it was career suicide.”

Alexia turns her head slightly, brows faintly drawn. Listening now. Not out of politeness. Intention. You stare ahead.

“Agents stopped calling. Interviews dried up. One coach — someone I used to really trust — told me I’d disappear. That I’d ‘fade out quietly.’” You huff a laugh, but there’s no humour in it. “I hadn’t even unpacked yet.”

Alexia is silent. Not interrupting. Just there.

“I’d scroll through social media and see all the squad updates, the camps, the conversations I wasn’t in anymore. And I thought… maybe they’re right. Maybe I peaked.”

You pause. Swallow.

“I started believing it. Like I was a mistake that was just waiting to happen.”

Alexia shifts slightly, her arm pressing into yours, grounding you.

“But then,” you continue, voice quieter now, “I played. I worked. And I kept showing up. And slowly… something changed. Not in them. In me.”

Alexia tilts her head. You glance at her.

“I stopped playing to prove people wrong,” you say. “And I started playing like they didn’t get a say.”

There’s a pause. And then—so soft you almost miss it—she says, “I noticed.”

You look at her. She’s watching you now — full on. Not blinking. Not shrinking. And when she speaks again, it’s steady.

“You didn’t disappear. You became better.”

You smile, but there’s a knot in your throat. Because you know she means it. And you never expected to hear it from her. Alexia leans her head back against the couch, her body still relaxed but her voice dipped low again.

“I know what that doubt feels like,” she says. “And I know how heavy it is to prove yourself to people who already made up their minds.”

You nod. “It’s exhausting.”

She murmurs, “And lonely.”

The room goes quiet again. But this time? Not lonely. Just two people sitting in a space neither of you were sure existed — honest, open, real. No spotlight. No pressure. Just you and her. And the ache you’ve both come back from.

⚽️

It’s late.

So late the playlist stopped a while ago. So late the city outside your windows feels like it’s on mute. You both stretch at almost the same time — that lazy, reluctant movement that means okay, maybe we should sleep but neither of you want to break the quiet just yet.

You stand first. Alexia follows. She’s still in your hoodie, tugging it down slightly, bare feet padding across the floor as you walk her to the guest room — side by side in a hush that feels warmer than anything words could’ve done.

You pause at the door.

She turns to face you, one hand on the doorframe. Her hair’s a little messy now, eyes slightly glassy with exhaustion. Her voice, when it comes, is soft and almost shy.

“Thanks for tonight.”

You smile, slow. “Thanks for coming.”

She nods, then looks down like she might say something else. But she doesn’t. You step back slightly, hands in your hoodie pockets, eyes flicking to hers.

“Goodnight, Alexia.”

She looks up at that. And for a second — just one second — the look on her face says everything else she didn’t say. Then she nods, once. Barely a smile. But it reaches her eyes. “Goodnight.”

She slips into the room. You don’t linger. Just turn toward your own — quiet footsteps down the short hall. You push the door open and Teddy. Right there, already curled up in the middle of your bed. One eye open, tail thumping lazily against the duvet like, about time.

You smile, rubbing the back of your neck as you sit on the edge of the bed. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You pick it up.

Alexia: Sleep well. You talk less than I thought you would. I liked it.

You stare at the message for a second, then type back:

You: You talk more than I thought you would. I liked it too.

Teddy sighs dramatically. You laugh under your breath. Then switch off the light. And for the first time in a long time, you fall asleep not needing to prove anything. Because she’s here. And you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

⚽️

You wake to the smell of coffee. And the distinct sound of Teddy betraying you. You roll out of bed, hair a mess, hoodie tugged low over your hands, padding barefoot into the kitchen where—There she is.

Alexia.

Still in your hoodie. One sock on, one foot bare. Mug in hand, eyes still puffy with sleep, standing at your counter while Teddy leans against her legs like he’s never loved anyone else.

She glances up when you walk in, and her smile is soft. Unbrushed. Unfiltered. Real.

“Morning,” she says, voice husky.

You squint. “How’d you find the biscuits?”

She holds up the mug in salute. “I’m elite. And you left a post-it that said ‘left cupboard, top shelf, if teddy won't leave you alone'.”

You grin. “I knew past-me had potential.”

She turns back to the counter, pouring more water into the kettle, while Teddy attempts to wedge himself between her and the cabinets, tail sweeping the floor like a metronome.

“You realise he’s using you,” you say, grabbing a clean mug.

“He can use me all he wants,” she says, reaching down to scratch his ears. “He’s warm.”

You watch her — the way her fingers slide under Teddy’s collar, the way her mouth twitches when he tries to climb into her actual lap. It’s not a moment. Not a capital-letter Event. But something in your chest aches anyway.

Because she looks right here.

You grab the eggs, start cracking them into the pan. She pulls down two plates without being asked. Neither of you talks much. Just a few sleepy comments, heads bumping once as you both reach for the cutlery drawer.

When you sit across from her at the little kitchen table — plates steaming, dog underfoot — she catches your eye as you tuck your leg up under you. She doesn’t look away. Not for a while.

You hold it. You hold her. And the smile she gives you. It says I see this. I feel it. I’m here.

After breakfast, you throw a hoodie over your tee, pull on your trainers, and rattle Teddy’s lead. He loses his mind, of course — spinning, barking, pawing at the door like it personally wronged him.

“You wanna come?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder at Alexia.

She shrugs. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

She throws on a coat of yours on hook, slips into her trainers, and follows you out the door — hair tied up, sleeves rolled down, sunglasses perched on her head like she forgot the sun lives here too despite the cold.

You walk through quiet neighbourhood streets, Teddy darting side to side, nose in every hedge. You and her? Side by side. Not touching. Not saying much. But every now and then, you catch her watching you. And when you glance back— She doesn’t look away.

You loop around the quiet end of the park, the noise of the street fading behind you, and find your bench — tucked under a tree just starting to bloom, a little weathered, sun-warmed. Teddy bounds ahead, lead dropped loose in your hand, tail sweeping in wide arcs like a painter’s brush.

Alexia sits first, arms wrapped around herself like she’s trying not to take up space but still wants to stay close. You drop beside her, leg stretched long, hands resting over your thighs.

For a while, you both just sit. Watching Teddy. Letting the quiet settle.

Then Alexia speaks, voice dry. “You really weren’t kidding about him being enthusiastic.”

You glance at her. She’s staring at Teddy, who’s currently rolling in something deeply questionable on the grass. You sigh.

“Yeah but he’s loyal.. until someone has better snacks anyway.”

She snorts. “I didn’t even have snacks.”

“Exactly,” you say, nudging her foot with yours. “He’s just shallow.”

She smirks, then leans back a little, adjusting the sleeves of your coat again. “He’s got taste, though. He likes me.”

You raise a brow. “Are you calling yourself a snack?”

“I’m not denying it.”

You laugh — sharp, sudden, surprised. And it makes her smile wider “You’ve got this whole mysterious captain thing,” you say, squinting at her. “But secretly, you’re kind of cocky.”

She tilts her head, smug. “Only when I’m right.” You roll your eyes, but your grin’s too soft to mean it. There’s a pause. Then, more gently “I like this,” she says, not looking at you now — just forward, at the dog, at the path.

You shift, the warmth of her words settling low in your ribs. “This?” you echo.

She nods. “The quiet. You. Teddy. This bench.” She pauses, then smirks again. “Even your coat.”

You laugh, quieter this time. “You make it look better than I do.”

“I know.” She meets your eyes then. And the silence that follows doesn't last long until you're leaning into each other laughing about it.

You clear your throat, picking at a thread on your sleeve, when the little old lady that you see everyday was eyeing you with annoyance, "So, um… are you always like this when you’re off the pitch?”

Alexia blinks. “Like what?”

You shrug. “A bit smug. Surprisingly funny. Secretly soft.”

She narrows her eyes, mock offended. “Secretly?”

You smirk. “I mean, the brand is very serious captain with cheekbones that could cut glass.”

Alexia hums. “Cheekbones and a scar. Very dramatic.”

“Oh, absolutely. You’re one trench coat away from being a Bond villain.” That gets a real laugh — full-bodied and sudden. She leans her head back against the bench, still smiling.

Then, “You make this easy,” she says, softer now. “Being here.”

You glance at her. And for a second, it’s all there again — the pitch, the free kick, the weight of it all.

But here, it’s light. You bump your knee gently against hers. “I’m glad you came, Alexia.” She doesn’t look away this time.

“I am too.”

You stretch your legs out in front of you, glancing sideways at her — Alexia, sitting there so casually now, one foot tucked beneath her, face tilted toward the sun like she’s been here a dozen times instead of just once.

You reach down to pat Teddy’s back as he wanders close.

Then glance at her.

“Do you like clichés?”

She lifts a brow. “What kind of question is that?”

You shrug, casual. “Like, romantic comedies. Grand gestures. Saying the same dumb things everyone else does. Standing on famous streets pretending you’re having an authentic experience.”

Alexia leans back, lips twitching. “You’re stalling.”

You grin. “Maybe.”

She squints at you now, playful. “Okay. Ask me properly.”

You turn toward her fully, arms folded over your chest like you’re about to deliver something serious.

“Would you like to do all the ridiculously cliché tourist things in Munich with me today?”

Alexia’s head tips slightly to the side, considering.

You keep going.

“I mean the whole deal — the Marienplatz selfie. Pretending to care about the Glockenspiel. Giant pretzels. A walk through the Englischer Garten where I’ll tell you lies about German history I definitely make up.”

Her smile creeps in slowly — then fully.

“I want lederhosen photos.”

You gasp, dramatically. “That’s advanced cliché.”

“I’m committed.”

You laugh. “God help us.”

She leans in slightly. “Only if you wear them too.”

You groan. “I’ve made a mistake.”

“You offered.”

You hold her gaze for a second, heart kicking a little louder now beneath all the lightness.

And she’s still smiling.

But there’s something genuine behind it.

Like maybe, for the first time in a long time, she’s just saying yes to a day that doesn’t come with pressure, or cameras, or expectations.

Just you.

She nudges your knee with hers. “So? We going or what?”

You whistle for Teddy. “Marienplatz, prepare yourself.”

⚽️

You start with Marienplatz. Because of course you do.

The crowds are already gathering under the watchful clock of the Neues Rathaus, phones out and necks craning toward the tower. You know the Glockenspiel starts at eleven. You’ve seen it a dozen times. It’s slow. It’s slightly underwhelming. But you still pretend like it’s sacred.

“People clap after this?” Alexia murmurs beside you, watching a small bronze knight rotate in a slow, juddering circle.

“Every time,” you whisper back. “It’s powerful.”

She gives you the driest look you’ve ever seen and it almost takes you out.

You snap a selfie right there — her unimpressed expression next to your exaggerated awe. It’s perfect. You don't even check it before saving.

From there it’s Viktualienmarkt — where you insist on finding the most absurdly oversized pretzel possible. Alexia watches you barter with a vendor and somehow ends up paying instead. She splits it with you anyway. You walk through the stalls like locals, even though you're both definitely not.

You buy her a little pin shaped like a beer stein. You stick it to her jacket pocket. “Souvenir,” she says.

You end up in the Englischer Garten by early afternoon, the kind of place where the trees stretch wide and people picnic like they’ve got nowhere else to be. Teddy loses his mind over a pigeon and nearly pulls Alexia into a fountain.

You don’t let that one go quietly. “Two time Ballon D'or, and you still couldn’t hold the line.”

“It was a very fast pigeon.”

You laugh until you’re leaning against her, shoulder to shoulder, catching your breath while Teddy runs victory laps around you both.

At the beer garden, you sit under the shade of chestnut trees, and Alexia orders something she can’t pronounce while you pretend to translate and definitely make it worse.

She tries white sausage and doesn’t hide her reaction.

You raise a brow. “Too real?”

“I can mark out midfielders. I can’t defend this texture.”

You toast anyway.

Later, you wander without purpose — through side streets with painted shutters and ivy-streaked balconies, past musicians playing under archways and little kids holding balloon strings tight to their wrists. Alexia keeps her sunglasses low on her nose, watching it all.

“I get why you like it here,” she says.

You glance over. “Yeah?”

She nods, then adds softly, “You fit here.”

It sticks.

You end up near the river as golden hour starts to take the edge off the buildings. There’s a stone ledge overlooking the water. You sit. She leans back on her hands, face turned to the sky.

“Okay,” she says finally. “This was... fun.”

You grin. “You sound surprised.”

“I am. I didn’t think cliché could feel like this.”

“Like what?”

She glances at you. Her expression doesn’t change much — but her voice does. “Easy.”

You don’t say anything for a second. Just smile. Then bump her knee gently with yours. “Think we earned ice cream?”

She tilts her head. “Is that part of the cliché package?”

“Obviously.”

You walk back into the city with cones in hand, Teddy leading the way again, tail wagging like a metronome keeping time with your steps.

And somewhere along that walk — maybe crossing a street, or brushing hands as you trade bites of each other’s flavours — something soft settles between you.

Not tension. Not expectation. Just understanding.

⚽️

You swing by the flat first — the front door barely closed before Teddy flops dramatically across the hallway floor like he’s survived something immense.

Alexia kneels down beside him, ruffles behind his ears, and says, “You’ll be alright without us.”

He sighs like he won’t.

You both change quickly — nothing fancy, just different hoodies, fresh faces, the kind of casual that looks better on her than it has any right to.

The bar you pick is a local one — tucked into a side street off the main square, part wine bar, part café, part 'we might have regulars but we won’t pretend to know your name unless you want us to.'

You take the corner table. The lights are soft and golden, the walls cluttered with mismatched frames and shelves of wine bottles. You order a bottle of white you’ve had before — one you hope she’ll like — and a snack board that arrives faster than expected: warm bread, cheese, olives, salted almonds.

She looks around, impressed. “You bring all your international friends here?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Only the ones who knock me out the champions league.”

“Fair,” she says, hiding a smile behind her glass.

You’ve barely had a sip before you reach into your bag and pull out a battered Uno deck.

Alexia blinks. “You brought cards?”

“They have them as you walk in. I’m competitive,” you say, shrugging. “And brave.”

She laughs once, short and sharp. “You’re going to regret this.”

“I’ve already accepted that.” You deal. And it begins.

It starts civil. Friendly. Smirks over skips. Light jabs when she stacks draw twos. You both pick at the snack board between plays, hands brushing occasionally as you reach for the same olive.

But by the second game, It’s personal.

She slams down a reverse like it’s a tactical sub in a final. You pull a draw four from your hoodie pocket like a weapon of war. She narrows her eyes. You lift your brows, mock-innocent.

It’s deadly serious. It’s ridiculous. And you’re both grinning like you haven’t stopped since this morning.

The bar starts to fill in slowly, but your little corner stays quiet — like a bubble you haven’t noticed growing around you. Just you, her, your wine glasses catching the light, and a stack of discarded cards that tells a very messy, very entertaining story.

Somewhere between games, you pause — mid-sip, watching her draw her hand.

“Are you always like this?” you ask. “Lowkey evil under all that calm?”

She looks up, unbothered. “Only when provoked.”

You laugh, leaning back. “Remind me not to cross you again.”

She smirks, eyes flicking up at you over her cards. “You already did,” she says, laying down a wild card.

The round ends. She wins.

You groan dramatically and throw your cards onto the table. She raises her hands in mock celebration, then quietly steals another piece of cheese from your side of the board.

“You know,” she says casually, chewing, “This might be the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

You blink. She doesn’t look up right away — just flips the deck over and starts reshuffling it absentmindedly.

But you’re watching her. And there’s no doubt in your mind. She means it.

⚽️

The walk home from the bar is slow. No rush. No real conversation either. Just a lot of little smiles. Shoulders brushing sometimes. The city quieter now — streetlights pooling in soft circles at your feet.

When you reach your building, you both slip inside quietly, Teddy greeting you at the door with a sleepy grumble and a thump of his tail.

You toe off your shoes, hang your jacket, glance over at her — and then, impulsively:

“Wanna see something stupid?”

Alexia blinks. “Not usually the way someone convinces me to follow them, but… sure.”

You grin.

You lead her through the flat — past the living room, into your bedroom. Teddy hops onto the bed like he’s reclaiming his kingdom. You move to the window — the one you always leave cracked just a little — and unlatch it the rest of the way.

You glance back at her.

She’s standing with her arms folded, watching you like she’s bracing for something truly ridiculous.

You duck out first — onto the sloped bit of roofing just beyond the window, socks scraping softly against the tiles. You crouch low, then stand carefully, balancing with practiced ease.

You turn and beckon. Alexia just stares. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

She steps closer, looks out.

The drop’s not that bad. 22 feet, maybe. But the tiles are slick with dew, and there’s no railing, no barrier, no sensible adult supervision.

“This is wildly unsafe,” she mutters.

You just smile. “Come on. I’m not gonna let you fall.”

She glares at you, muttering something in Catalan that sounds very judgmental. But you can see it — the twitch at the corner of her mouth. She’s not really mad.

She’s just concerned. Which somehow only makes it better.

After a few more seconds of muttering under her breath, she sighs dramatically, steps up onto the ledge, and eases herself through the window with surprising grace — a little unsteady at first, reaching for your hand instinctively.

You catch it. Steady her. “See?” you say, squeezing her fingers lightly. “Easy.”

“Still stupid,” she mutters.

But she doesn’t pull away. You lead her a few steps up — careful, slow — until you both settle onto the slightly flatter part of the roof, side by side, legs pulled up to your chest..

She finally looks up the whole city stretches out in front of her.

The rooftops curve into the skyline, lights twinkling like fallen stars. The dark river cuts a lazy path through the buildings. A few stray sirens whine in the distance, but mostly it’s just quiet. Wide and open and impossibly still.

Alexia exhales — a soft, almost disbelieving sound. The corners of her mouth lift. And whatever worry she had before melts off her shoulders.

“Okay,” she says, voice lighter now. “Maybe it’s worth the risk.”

You bump your knee against hers. “Told you.”

You sit like that for a long time — no rush, no plan. Just the two of you, the city breathing around you, your hands close enough to touch if you dared.

Every now and then, you glance over and catch her watching the lights, the horizon, the night itself like she’s letting herself believe she could belong to something this simple.

The climb back in through the window is quieter than the climb out.

Alexia moves slower now, heavy with the kind of tired that comes after a day full of laughter and nowhere to be but here. She drops softly into your bedroom, feet padding across the floor, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands again.

You follow behind, closing the window gently behind you.

Teddy’s already curled up on the bed, barely lifting his head to acknowledge your return. He gives Alexia one approving thump of the tail. You’re not sure if it’s for coming back safely or for still being here.

You rub at the back of your neck, eyes a little hazy, wine long gone.

Alexia stands in the doorway to the guest room now, hand on the frame. Her expression is soft — not sleepy exactly, just settled.

She looks at you. And it hits again — this moment. How simple it is. How much it means. You lean against the wall across from her, arms crossed loosely, smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“I’ll make sure you don’t miss your flight in the morning,” you say.

She smirks faintly. “You better.”

“I’ll set three alarms.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Four.”

You laugh, quiet and tired. “Pushy.”

She shrugs. “Punctual.”

The pause that follows isn’t awkward. It’s full. Of all the things neither of you are saying right now. But it’s okay. You already said so much.

She shifts slightly, head tilting. “Today was…”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She doesn’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t have to.

You step forward, and without thinking, you pull her into a light hug — not long, not heavy, but enough. Enough to feel the warmth of her hoodie, the steady beat of her breath, the soft slide of her hand as it rests briefly on the back of your head.

You pull back just a little. She’s still close. “Goodnight, Alexia.”

Her eyes flicker — tired and unreadable, but warmer now “Goodnight.”

She steps into the guest room and closes the door behind her with a gentle click. You exhale.

Teddy stretches across your bed with a groan like he just ran the city.

You flick off the hallway light, pad back into your room, and crawl beneath the covers.

The room is dark now. But your chest is full. And your alarms are definitely set. Tomorrow she leaves.

⚽️

The alarms buzz you awake just after six.

Teddy barely lifts his head as you stumble into the kitchen, yawning, the world outside still caught between night and day.

Alexia’s already up. You find her sitting on the edge of the couch, tying her sneakers — hair messy, hoodie slung loose over her frame, backpack by her feet.

She looks up when you walk in, and there’s a small, tired smile waiting for you. “Morning,” she says, voice thick with sleep.

You hum a reply, rubbing your eyes. Neither of you rush.

You load Teddy into the backseat. He whines a little, sensing something is different. The drive to the airport is quiet — warm coffee cups in the holders, the radio playing something soft neither of you bother to change.

She leans her forehead against the window once, watching the fields blur into concrete. When you pull up to Departures, you leave the car idling, glancing over at her.

She’s already unbuckling her seatbelt, but neither of you move right away.

The city is waking up outside. You’re wide awake here. Alexia shifts in her seat to face you. “This was…” She trails off, the words sticking again.

You smile, small. “Yeah. It was.”

She fiddles with the ring on her finger.

You grip the steering wheel lightly. “You’ll make your flight.”

She nods. “Thanks for not letting me oversleep.”

You bump your shoulder against hers gently. “Thanks for making it hard to say goodbye.”

That gets a real smile — tired, fond, a little crooked. She opens the door, stepping out into the sharp morning air. You get out too.

You meet her around the back of the car — not rushed, not dramatic. Just standing there, with a sea of taxis and early travelers moving around you like another current you’re not ready to step into yet.

She shoulders her bag. You jam your hands into your hoodie pockets.

Then — simply — she steps closer. You think she might hug you. You think you might need her to.

But instead, she reaches up — slow, careful — and hooks one finger lightly around your hoodie drawstring. Tugs it once. Soft. Playful.

“Text me when you get home,” you say, even though you’re already sure she will.

Alexia nods. “You too.”

And then — because she knows when to let things stay perfect — she turns and walks toward the entrance. You watch her weave through the doors. She doesn’t look back. Not until she’s just inside, bag slung over one shoulder, ticket in hand. Then she does. Just once.

She finds you through the glass — through the crowd and the noise and the press of the world. She smiles. Small. Sure. Enough.

You lift a hand. She does too. Then she’s gone, swallowed into the current of the airport.

You stand there a moment longer, breath fogging in the chill, Teddy’s nose nudging your hand.

You pat his head. Then you climb back into the car. And drive home, to grab a few more hours of sleep before training.

#alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #woso fanfics #alexia putellas #woso #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas imagine #woso imagine #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas one shot #fcb femeni

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 1 day ago

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⋆⭒˚.⋆ can I call her what she is? ⋆⭒˚.⋆

summary: Doyoung has a new girlfriend and she makes it very clear to you and you alone that she doesn't like you. Too bad no one believes you

(cw: f!reader, cursing, side character is a bitch, the guys are idiots, angsty with a happy ending!)

You liked to think you were a likable person. You were kind, you had good manners, you were polite, you were never rude, but now you were starting to rethink it all. Ever since Doyoung's girlfriend, Jane, started hanging around, actually. They hadn't been together long, but she was a strong character so it was no wonder she wormed her way into hanging around with you guys.

It wasn't that she was outright mean, but she was snide and passive aggressive. Only to you it seemed. You really should have been in a better state of mind too, you and fratboy!Jaehyun had been official now for a few weeks now. There was a lot of texting over winter break and a lot of time spent together since school started back up. However, you were still a little iffy about you two being together. Old insecurities hadn't yet been quelled and Jane being a bitch just made you feel worse.

Somehow Jane had finagled her way into a Sunday dinner, an event usually reserved the brothers and their partners. It made sense, but usually partners didn't show up within the first month of dating. Jane and Doyoung had only been together for three weeks from what you understood, and you knew better than anyone that being around this group of guys could be a lot. You'd attended a few times before you and Jaehyun were official and you remember being beyond overwhelmed.

You and Taeyong were in the kitchen, plating up the take out you guys had ordered. The kitchen was loud since everyone was hanging out waiting for the last few people to show up. It was like every other Sunday dinner, loud laughing, lots of talking, and complaining about Johnny being gone, some kind of family emergency.

Doyoung led Jane into the kitchen and you watched as she went around the room and greeted everyone. You exhaled a long breath, watching as she greeted Taeyong with a wave and a smile on her face. You waved at her, smiling, "Hey Jane, it's so good to see you again."

The smile on her face freezes, the smile no longer reaching her eyes, "right, so good to see you too."

The weird feeling you always get around her settles into your stomach as dinner progresses. The guys hang on Jane's every word as she explains some kind of biological chemistry phenomenon. Even you have to admit it's interesting, but then she turns to you. The smile on her face is sweet, but you know that look. She's about to say something rude to you.

She clears her throat as she turns to you, "and I'm sorry, what was your major again? Something with children, right?"

"Yeah, I'm an elementary education major," you nod. Jaehyun smiles as he rubs your back, encouraging this connection between the ladies of Nu Chi Theta.

"Of course you are," Jane nods, "you know, times have changed. Women are more than able to pick something in fields that aren't already overrun by females."

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out and Jane's attention is drawn elsewhere with a smug smirk in your direction. What the fuck was her problem?

The dinner ends not too much later, though you had hoped it would have ended sooner. Jane has gone home, something about chemistry homework or whatever. You stay at the table gnawing on your bottom lip as the guys continue to talk around you. You turn to Jaehyun on your right, your voice low, "do you think Jane is mean to me?"

His brows furrow, "what are you talking about? She's nice to everyone."

You helplessly turn to Haechan who sits on your left. He's always had your back, surely he'll believe you, right? "Do you think Jane is weird with me?"

"Did she say something mean to you?" Haechan asks, you nod sincerely, "I didn't catch that. What did she say?"

"About my major being overrun with females," you explain slowly.

Haechan cocks his head to the side, "well, teaching is a field dominated by women so she wasn't really wrong though was she?"

After that night you start to second guess yourself. Were you overthinking it? Was she not being mean to you? Were you making it all up? Still, you find that you don't attend the Sunday dinners because you know she'll be there. When you can't avoid her, you just get quiet and don't interact as much as you normally would.

Tonight though, you cant avoid it. All your excuses have run out and unfortunately telling Jaehyun your pet chinchilla was sick didn't work. You sit in your usual seat, poking at the food on your plate with a blank look on your face.

You can feel Jane's bitchy energy focused right on you. Great, here comes another blow. She sets her cup down, "so did you help Taeyong make dinner tonight?"

You shake your head, not looking up from your plate, "no."

"No wonder it tastes better," she laughs and to your dismay, the rest of the table bursts out in chuckles too.

"But we usually order take out, so she doesn't cook anyway," you hear Johnny pipe up. You look up, feeling a sense of hope and an immense sense of appreciation for your friend.

It's barely enough to deter Jane. She waves off Johnny's comment with another laugh, "so how long have Sunday dinners been for official partners? I know you and Jaehyun haven't been official for very long, right?"

Jaehyun pipes up, "Since the middle of December, happiest days of my life since then."

The other guys roll their eyes playfully, having heard enough about the two of you to know that they won't miss out on anything as they return to their own conversations. Her brows furrow as she leans in from her seat across from you, "Doyoung mentioned that you two had a think going on for months before, so were you just a booty call? Did you trick him into making it official?"

"Ha, trick me," Jaehyun chuckles. Your brows furrow as you look at him with a look of complete hurt. Did he not hear everything she said?

"And I mean really, besides his good looks, what was so appealing about Jaehyun? He had a reputation for sticking his dick anywhere didn't he? I don't think I'd ever let a man disrespect me the way he disrespected you," she shrugs her shoulders, looking around the table at all the guys who have now gone silent.

Johnny coughs out in shock, "yo, what the fuck, Jane?"

"I'm just being honest," Jane shrugs, "it's not that serious."

"No! It is that serious. No one asked you to be honest about shit that doesn't have the slightest thing to do with you," Johnny counters.

"It's just girl talk John, typical female conversation," Jane rolls her eyes.

"But it's not a conversation when Sweets hasn't even said more than one word. You're being really fucking rude. There's no reason to dredge up old wounds for my friends and make a mess where you're not involved at all," Jonnny argues.

"She also implied that I'm a slut," Jaehyun pipes up.

Johnny holds his open palm out in Jaehyun's direction, "I just watched you let Jane stomp all over your girlfriend and decimate her self esteem, you don't get to be defended right now. You fucking laughed about Jane saying Sweets was just a booty call, bro!"

"Johnny, it's alright..." you offer quietly.

"It's really not though. Is this the first time she's talked to you like this?" Johnny asks.

Beside you Haechan shakes his head softly, "it's not. She made some comments a few weeks ago and Sweets asked us about it."

"And that's why you haven't been coming to the dinners, isn't it?" Johnny asks.

You're barely able to nod before Jaehyun is tugging you into his arms in a tight hug and apologizing profusely right in your ear, "I was such an idiot. I'm so sorry, Sweetheart. I'm always going to listen to whatever you say and agree no matter what."

Johnny clears his throat, "I'm sorry to do this to your girlfriend, Doyoung, but I'm going to have to invoke my power as vice president of this frat and ask that you leave, Jane."

Doyoung chokes on his drink, "have you been telling people you're my girlfriend?"

"Yes, because I said I am," Jane rolls her eyes as she stands.

"You're my lab partner in chemistry that can't tell when she's overstayed her welcome. You heard Johnny, bye," Doyoung waves.

She strides away with a scoff, telling Doyoung she was breaking up with him. Everyone looks around the table awkwardly before Haechan clears his throat, "we owe you an apology Sweets."

The table of frat boys nods, all expressing their words of apology as Jaehyun holds you tightly and presses a kiss to the top of your head. Haechan groans, "well, can I call her what she is without anyone getting offended? She was a mega bitch!"

"Cheers to that," Jaehyun chuckles, raising his cup.

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #nct drabbles #nct blurbs #fratboy!jaehyun #frat!jaehyun #frat!nct #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #jaehyun scenarios

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astroismypassion · 1 day ago

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Astrology observations 🐏🌾🐰

Credit goes to my Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

🌾 If you have Jupiter at 19 (Libra) degree or Jupiter in the 7th house in the Natal chart, people that enter your life in form of a romantic partner, a friend, co-worker, business partner, you can get an opportunity through them, they bring you luck or because of them you can expand in your own individual life.

🐰 But the thing with this placement, there can also be some kind of "downside" to it. Because of that this placement often finds a romantic truly only when they are NOT looking or even when you are somewhat oblivious of partnerships. When you are actively looking, you find yourself unlucky, because with you it works the opposite way. You get more lucky, when you are not actively looking. You have to get more passive when searching for partnerships.

🐏 Saturn in the 4th house: can also be a cold home (quite literally, low heating at home), emotionally aloof or emotionally unstable parents (or just one of them, usually the mother, but it could also be the father) or a feeling that you have to play a role of a grownup at home, because of your parents. It can be that you had a very structured, disciplined childhood. You were probably taught that anger is "bad", so you repressed a lot of angry impulses. Or that early on you had to prove in your family circle that you are "worthy" of being loved. What you secretly crave is actually comfort, stability and safety, but you feel like the road to get there is full of obstacles and challenges at the moment. If you have this, you likely didn't "inherit" a peaceful home. But you have to build it yourself. You usually create that "real home" a bit later in life, but at that time is stable and calm. For example: if you grew up in dysfunctional family, you might create rules for your own home that there is peace and no yelling. Big thing with this placement is that when they learn with time that not everything is your responsibility, they are unstoppable, because they learn how to get a healthy feeling for naturally setting boudaries and limits in connections.

🌾 Oh you have Jupiter in the 7th house? And your romantic partner doesn't uplift you intellectually, emotionally, financially and spiritually? This relationship ain't it. But still beware of blind faith in relationships or having too high expectations for a connection that is not even committed yet. You can expect fair play, open-mindedness and fairness in connection too early on and you end up disappointed. Also beware of blindly following your partner's dreams instead of your own.

🐰 Aries Saturn people often supported their parents emotionally and materially/financially early in life.

🐏 If you are on the Virgo North Node/Pisces South Node axis, it's interesting, because you were probably born with the feeling of wanting to help others. But throughout life, you get to understand that you have to give that help with a system, on a schedule and with order. That's why you can't just mindlessly help people around you. Also, stop thinking "everything that could be", instead start setting and choosing "what will be".

🌾 With Jupiter in the 7th house you can be prone to attract educators, teachers, counsellors, lawyers.

🐰 Gemini/Virgo MC get promoted only then when they stop jumping from a career to career, from one work field to another. You get a promotion or see progress when you are long enough in your work field to actually specialise in it.

🐏 With Virgo North Node the key is NOT to serve others, but to create something concrete that serves others. You have to accept responsibility (not run away from it, Pisces South Node) and make that responsibility into something useful, either in your work field, in society or even art.

🌾 Also, Pisces South Node people keep searching for their "purpose", when in reality, for them is not searching for it, but instead "creating your own purpose" in life. When others just dream about their goals, you are building up those dream goals.

🐰 People, who have both Pisces and Aries over the 4th house, usually grew up in a home where emotions took over or were not expressed clearly (Pisces), yet there was a feeling of fighting for yourself (Aries). You felt you yourself can create safety. In adulthood, instead of chaos at home, you recognize your need for peace and order.

🐏 I noticed Virgo Midheavens excelling in fields of therapy, counseling, oganization, coaching, nutrition, psychology or analytics.

🌾 For Virgo North Nodes it's crucial to have a schedule, your rituals, excellent sleeping and eating schedule.

🐰 If you have Part of Fortune in the 1st house the only real gift you can give others, is your body, your presence and your energy.

🐏 Sagittarius Part of Fortune means you are a natural motivator and you feel the happiest when you are in movement or learning. You have a gift for seeing the bigger picture.

🌾 Gemini Part of Fortune means that you have very precise and excellent intuition for timing of your words, ideas and information.

Credit goes to my Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

#astrology #astroismypassion #astro notes #astroblr #astro community #astro note #astro observations #natal chart #astrology blog #chart reading #pisces south node #virgo north node #pisces sn #jupiter in the 7th house #part of fortune in the 1st house

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masorciereviolette · 1 day ago

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Could I request one of Agatha Harkness x reader? Friends with benefits to lovers!

Agatha and Reader are friends with benefits but their connection is deeper despite that they don't say it out loud. Reader is the one who takes the initiative, Reader asks Agatha to spent the night together, because they are already sleeping together, so why not actually sleep together in the same bed. Agatha doesn't accept

After that, Reader surprises Agatha with the end of her agreement. Reader wants them to be just friends again without sex.

Agatha accepts but, in truth, she doesn't want to finish what they have even though she pretends it doesn't affect her. Agatha tries to get on with her life and even tries to sleep with other people (maybe Rio) but those encounters don't feel the same as with Reader, they don't feel good

Agatha is still in denial and increasingly in a worse mood. Then Agatha hears from mutual friends that Reader is looking for a real relationship. Agatha tries not to take it seriously until she can't take it anymore, she realizes that she fell in love with Reader and doesn't want Reader to go out or sleep with anyone else

Agatha asks her friends about Reader but they tell her that Reader is on a date. Although Agatha looks for her in all the places she can think of, she doesn’t find Reader so Agatha stays waiting at the door of Reader's house for her to return - begging her to return - because that Reader doesn’t return means that Reader will spend the night with her date

Reader returns late. Her date brings her home and tries to kiss her and Agatha loses control

Angst with happy ending (+ smut)

Sorry if it's too long. Maybe it's worth two requests 😂 so multi chapter(?). I just love your writing. Have a great day/evening 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Never, Just Friends.

Pairing: Au Agatha Harkness x Reader

Warnings: Small Time Jumps, Unresolved Emotions, Hurt, Angst, Pining, Comfort, Minors DNI 18+, Jealousy, Graphic Sexual Descriptions, Happy Ending.

Word count: 10.8k

A/N: Thank you!!! Dude this request was phenomenal to read and more fun to write, stg y’all are literally amazing, please keep these coming✋🏽😭. If yall can’t already tell, climactic romantic tropes are quite literally my kryptonite. Slight POV switching but not too bad.

Taglist: @harknessshi

Masterlist Link

The sheets are still warm from the way Agatha moved against them. From the way her hands held your hips like they were the last thing tethering her to the earth—fingertips digging in just a little too long, a little too desperately, like she didn’t want to let go even as she pulled away.

Her breath had still been shallow against your skin when she collapsed beside you for a moment, her arm slung over your waist, legs tangled lazily in yours. For a heartbeat, it felt like something real. Like something that meant more than it should.

Now she’s already halfway out of bed. The absence of her weight beside you is instant. The cool air rushes in where her body used to be, and it stings. You sit up slowly, pulling the blanket over your chest like armor, trying not to show how exposed you suddenly feel.

Her silhouette is dimly lit by the lamp she didn’t bother to turn off, bent at the waist as she grabs her shirt from the floor. Her bare back is tense, every line of her spine sharp with hesitation. You’re breathless. Undone. And somehow—still not satisfied. Not in the way you need to be “Agatha,” you say softly. She doesn’t turn “I know it’s late,” you continue, voice careful, unsure. “You don’t have to leave tonight.”

She stills, her hand frozen around the bra she just picked up. The muscles in her shoulders go rigid “You could stay,” you murmur. “Actually stay.” There’s a silence that follows—thick, weighted, fragile. It takes everything in you not to reach for her. To ask her again. Beg her, even. But you don’t. You just wait “We sleep together all the time,” you say gently. “So why not sleep, too?”

That gets her. She straightens slowly, back still to you, her breath a little sharper now. Her arms move mechanically as she slides the bra straps up and over her shoulders, fumbling slightly with the clasp behind her back.

You watch her chest rise and fall. Watch her try to compose herself. Then she glances back, just for a moment, eyes flicking toward you with something you can’t name “You know that’s not what this is,” she says finally, her voice low. Measured. Controlled. Like she’s forcing herself not to say too much.

Your heart twists. “I know,” you whisper. “But I want more.”

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. Because it’s already written across her face—conflict, fear, maybe guilt. But not agreement. Never that. She slips her shirt over her head and finishes dressing without another word, without another glance. Her silence cuts deeper than a no.

You nod once, slow and small. It’s enough. Not for your heart. Not for the ache that keeps crawling further up your throat. But it’s enough to stop you from asking again. And that, somehow, hurts the most.

Agatha shifts on the edge of the bed, clearly uncomfortable now. Her back is half-turned to you, and her fingers are fumbling with the clasp of her bra like she’s racing against a clock only she can hear. Her movements are sharp, too quick, like the silence between you has become unbearable.

“I—I should go,” she says abruptly, her voice a little too high, a little too rushed. “I’ve got some early calls tomorrow.”

She doesn’t look at you when she says it. You nod anyway, slow and steady, like your heart isn’t fracturing one quiet crack at a time. Like you believe her. But you know her schedule. You always do. Brunch at eleven, drinks with a friend she doesn’t even like at four.

Nothing urgent. Nothing that should pull her away from you. But you don’t say any of that. Instead, you pull the blanket tighter around yourself, the edges clutched in your fists like they can hold you together. The warmth of her touch is already cooling on your skin, leaving behind a hollow echo that your body doesn’t know how to fill.

She fumbles for her shirt next, pulling it over her head backward. The tag pokes out near her throat. She curses softly under her breath, dragging it back off in a flurry of annoyance, then flips it right and tries again. You watch her—not because you want to make this harder on yourself, but because you can’t help it. Because she’s still beautiful in this state: disheveled, uncertain.

She grabs her jeans next, hopping a little on one leg as she pulls them on, her hair falling in messy waves around her face “I’ll text you soon” she says lightly, flashing a smile that’s too casual, too forced. A smirk meant to play it cool. “We’ll… set something up again. I promise.”

You return it with a smile of your own—tight, automatic, practiced. The kind of smile that’s meant to make everything easier, even when it costs you something to wear it “Sure,” you say. Your voice doesn’t shake. Not yet. You won’t let it. She leans down to grab her boots, tugging one on, then the other, in silence. She still doesn’t look at you. Not once. Not even a glance.

And maybe that’s what hurts the most. Not the excuse. Not even the way she’s be already halfway out the door before her body’s fully dressed. But the way she avoids your eyes like they might tell the truth too loudly. Like if she meets your gaze, she’ll crumble—or worse, you will. When the door finally closes behind her, the sound is louder than it should be. Too final. Too sharp. It echoes through the apartment like something breaking.

You don’t move for a moment. You just sit there, blanketed in fading warmth and growing silence, staring at the same spot on the wall you’ve looked at a hundred times before. It never felt empty until now.

You try to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. But your chest feels tight, too full and too hollow all at once. Your lip trembles before you can stop it. Your eyes sting. And then the tears come—not fast, not dramatic, just soft. Quiet. Unapologetic. They trail down your cheeks as if they’ve been waiting for her to leave. As if your body knew what she’d take with her when she did.

Because you weren’t asking her to love you. You weren’t even asking her to say it. You just wanted her to stay. To want you in the stillness, not just the heat. To want you when there was nothing left to take. But Agatha Harkness always leaves before morning. And this time, she didn’t even say goodbye.

It’s almost two days later before you hear from her again. The café is loud. Too loud. The kind of overstimulating clatter that would usually fade into the background like white noise—comforting in its own way. But today, it feels like every cup clink and every hiss of steam from the espresso machine is a jab to your nerves. The chatter is too bright, too alive. And your heart won’t stop pounding.

You spot her before she spots you. She’s tucked into the corner booth, sunglasses perched on her head like a crown she forgot to take off, her fingers lazily stirring a drink that’s already watered down. She looks… casual. Effortless. Comfortable in her skin in the way only Agatha Harkness ever could be. Like none of this is serious. Like she has no idea what’s coming.

Her hair is half-pinned back, a few strands slipping free to frame her face. She looks soft in the sunlight, radiant and out of reach. You almost turn around, running feels easier. Your hand even twitches toward the door—but then she looks up and sees you.

Her face shifts. Not dramatically. Not in the way people do in movies. Just a small smile curling at the corners of her lips. A spark of familiarity in her eyes. The kind of expression she never gives anyone else. The kind you used to live for. It hits you right in the chest.

She stands when you reach the table, slow and graceful, like always. She leans in without thinking, arms coming around you in that easy, instinctive way that speaks to how often you’ve done this before. You let her. Let yourself be held for just a second, inhaling the familiar scent of her skin—cedar and something warm, something uniquely her.

You pull away, carefully, and sit down across from her. She mirrors you, sliding back into her seat, fingers brushing over the rim of her glass. “Sorry for bailing the other night,” she says casually. “I really did have an early morning.”

You meet her eyes. You nod “Don’t worry about it.” The lie comes out smooth. Polished. You’ve had forty eight hours to practice it.

She relaxes slightly, as if that’s all she needed—permission to believe her own excuse. Her shoulders drop, and she toys with her straw, glancing at you with a flicker of something hopeful “I was thinking,” she starts, her voice lighter now, like she’s testing the waters, “maybe this weekend—”

“I don’t think we should do this anymore.” Your voice cuts in gently. Not sharp. Not cold. Just… final. Even. Honest. You watch as her expression freezes, the words hanging between you like broken glass. Her fingers still against her glass. Her lips part slightly, but no sound comes out.

You can see it happen in real time—the shift in her posture, the flicker of confusion that gives way to something darker. But she doesn’t say anything. Not yet. And you don’t move. Because this is the moment there’s no going back from it “What?”

Her voice is quiet but sharp, like she heard you the first time and still needed to ask again, just to be sure she didn’t imagine it.

You glance around the café, suddenly all too aware of how public this is. Of the couple laughing two tables over, the barista shouting out names, the clatter of cups and silverware. But in your world, in this tiny bubble between you and Agatha, everything else blurs.

“This.” You gesture vaguely between the two of you, fingers trembling slightly before you curl them into a loose fist in your lap. “The sex. The… ‘benefits.’ I think we should just be friends. Real friends.”

She blinks at you—once, then again—her mouth parted like she’s struggling to catch up. Her brows rise, almost incredulously, like she’s expecting a laugh to follow. A grin. Some sign this is all a joke “You’re being serious?”

You nod, your stomach twisting with the movement. It feels like a betrayal—to her, to yourself—but you do it anyway. Because it’s the only thing left to do. Her smile falters. That easy, cocky grin that so often saves her from sincerity slips from her face. “Is this about the other night?”

“No,” you lied smoothly, though it tasted like ash on your tongue. “It’s about all the nights.” You take a breath, then another “I just… I need something else. Something dependable, real—” The silence that follows is thick, heavy. Like a storm on the edge of breaking.

Agatha leans back slowly, folding her arms across her chest—not casually, not comfortably, but like she’s building a wall between you. Her jaw tightens, her eyes flicker down and away “So you’re saying you don’t want me anymore?” The question lands between you like a knife. Your chest clenches.

“I’m saying,” you construed your next answer carefully, voice softer now, “that I want more than you’re offering. And if you can’t give me that… I’d rather just be your friend than keep pretending this isn’t hurting me. I don’t want to hate you, but if we stay this way I fear I might—”

Her mouth opens like she has a retort ready, like she wants to fire something sharp back at you. But nothing comes out. She looks down at her drink, her fingers tracing the condensation on the glass like it might hold the answer she needs.

You wonder if she feels the same pressure in her chest. That suffocating ache that tells you you’re doing the right thing while it tears you apart “Okay,” she says finally, and the word is so small it barely makes it across the table. “If that’s what you want.”

You nod again, slower this time. Every motion feels like walking uphill through water. You manage a smile—tight around the edges, brittle behind the eyes—but you give it to her anyway. Agatha’s expression goes still. Neutral. Like a mask sliding into place. “So….. friends.”

“Friends,” you echo, and it feels like the word tastes different in your mouth than it does in hers. She nods again, but it’s almost mechanical now. Like she’s trying to practice it. To rehearse for a role she never wanted.

She finishes her drink in silence, the ice clinking softly against the glass. Neither of you says anything else. When she finally stands, she doesn’t touch you. Not a brush of her hand. Not a teasing nudge of her knee against yours. Nothing. She walks away without looking back. And you let her.

You sit there long after she’s gone, staring at the seat she left behind, the ghost of her presence still imprinted in the cushion, in your lungs, in every aching inch of you. You tell yourself it was the right decision. Even though it feels like you just cut out a part of yourself and watched it walk out the door.

Weeks pass. Not a single text from you. Not a half-thought “hope you’re good,” not a late-night question mark, not even a like on her Instagram story. It’s complete silence. And Agatha… Agatha pretends that’s fine.

Because that’s what she does. She pretends. She wakes up with her cheek pressed against the cool side of the pillow, throws on her robe like it’s armor, makes her coffee too strong, and moves through her morning routine like muscle memory. Her makeup is flawless.

Her smirks are still sharp. Her laugh still comes easy—too easy. But underneath all of it, there’s something burning. Low and constant. A slow ache that tightens in her chest when her phone lights up and it’s not your name.

She tells herself it’s for the best. You wanted this. You asked for it. You said friends, and she agreed. She told herself she didn’t need more than that. But the silence? That wasn’t part of the deal.

So she starts going out again. Dull, meaningless dates arranged by friends or stumbled into at events. Glasses of wine with strangers who ask too many questions or not enough. She leans into it, into the distraction, the performance.

One woman takes her to an overpriced French bistro and spends the entire night talking about her vacation home in Italy. She smiles, nods, stabs at her food like it personally offended her. When she leans in to kiss her, she lets her. It’s short, dry, disconnected. Like she’s checking a box off a list.

She never texts the woman back. The next is a woman named Cora, who wears red lipstick and leans too far forward when she talks. Her stories are wild. Her laugh is real. But the moment she brushes her hand across Agatha’s wrist, something twists inside her. It’s not the same. None of them are. Then comes the infamous Rio Vidal.

They bump into each other at an art opening downtown, one of the first times they’ve seen each other since the break up. Its one of those sleek, modern installations full of tortured sculptures and overpriced wine. The room buzzes with chatter, the kind that clings to Agatha’s skin and feels more exhausting than thrilling.

And then she hears that voice “Well, well,” Rio says from behind her. “I didn’t know they let witches into this place.”

Agatha turns, already smirking. “Only the hot ones I fear…..” Rio looks good, almost sinisterly so. Tailored black blazer over a dark satin top, heels that click with every step like punctuation. She moves like she owns the space. Like she always knows exactly what she’s doing.

They talk. They flirt. It’s easy. Agatha laughs more than she means to. Lets Rio pour her another drink. Lets the brush of fingers along her arm linger too long. By the time they end up back at Rio’s apartment, it feels like inevitability. When Rio kisses her—mouth confident, hands roaming, breath hot against her jaw—Agatha doesn’t feel a thing. No thrill. No heat. No ache. Not like she felt with you.

Not like she still feels with you. She breaks the kiss first, gently stepping back, her palm on Rio’s chest to create space she desperately needs “I should go,” she says, breathless but not because of desire. “Early morning.”

Rio cocks an eyebrow, smirking as she leans against the back of her sleek leather couch. “You’re a terrible liar. You’re hung up on someone—I can almost taste it. ”

Agatha doesn’t argue. She just grabs her coat from where it’s draped over a nearby chair, fingers shaking slightly as she slips it on. “Goodnight, Rio.” And then she’s out the door. The next morning, she tries everything to get the feeling out of her system. Coffee. Tea. A strong pour of whiskey before noon. A long shower so hot it scalds her skin. Loud music. Work. A run around the park until her lungs burn and her legs feel like jelly. But nothing works. Because no matter what she tries, the touch left lingering isn’t Rio’s. It’s yours. And it won’t go away.

It gets worse when she hears it from a friend. A mutual friend, no less. The kind who always overshares without realizing it—who means well but doesn’t know when to stop talking. They’re seated outside at a sunny sidewalk café, umbrellas flaring overhead, silverware clinking, the clatter of weekend traffic just far enough away to dull into a hum. Agatha’s wearing her sunglasses, oversized and tinted, but even that doesn’t hide the exhaustion behind her eyes.

She’s halfway through her second cappuccino when she unknowingly spills it, just like that—casual, careless, and cruel in its innocence “She’s dating now, you know?” A sip of mimosa. A swipe of lipstick from the rim of her glass. “Finally looking for something serious.”

Agatha freezes mid-sip. The coffee burns against her tongue, but she doesn’t react. Not visibly. Not yet. “She deserves that,” the friend continues, totally oblivious to the way Agatha’s posture shifts, her spine just a little straighter, her grip on the mug just a little tighter. “Someone to settle down with.”

The words punch harder than they should. Agatha forces a smile. It feels like pulling a rubber band to its breaking point. “Yeah,” she says smoothly, her voice even, her tone betraying nothing. “She does.”

She takes another drink, her eyes hidden behind the tinted lenses, her lips pressed tight. The conversation moves on. Brunch is finished. She parts ways with the friend, gives the usual air-kiss goodbye, waves like she’s unbothered. She even makes it to the next block before she lets herself breathe again.

But her mood?

Ruined.

For the rest of the day, she’s quiet, distracted. The next day, the restlessness sets in. The one after that, she doesn’t even pretend to try. She stops answering Rio’s texts, the ones that ping with a brightness she suddenly finds annoying. She leaves them unread, doesn’t even bother coming up with an excuse.

She cancels a dinner date she wasn’t excited about. Deletes an unopened dating app. Lets her phone sit face-down on her desk for hours at a time. Her house feels colder somehow, even with the thermostat cranked up and every candle she owns flickering like little distractions. The music she plays is too loud and too curated—an attempt to fill the space, to drown out the silence she swore she liked.

It doesn’t work.

Because every time she turns a corner, she thinks of you. Every time her phone lights up, her heart stutters like maybe, maybe, you finally reached out. You haven’t. And when she’s alone, when the noise dies down, when it’s just her and the ache she refuses to name—she does the one thing she swore she wouldn’t.

She opens your profile. Scrolls. Lingers. Refreshes. Just to see if you’re smiling. Just to see if you’re with someone new. Just to see if you look happy without her. But what finally breaks her is a Thursday night, cold and sharp, the city lights smeared by mist on her windshield as she drives in circles with nowhere in mind. The evening feels too quiet, too still, until she picks up her phone and, without thinking, sends a text to one of your mutual friends. Something harmless. Something casual.

“Hey. You heard from y/n tonight?” The reply comes fast. Thoughtless as always. “Oh, she’s out on another date with that finance type woman I think. Sweet. Polite. Took her to that Italian place on Fifth.”

Agatha stares at the message, fingers frozen around her phone. Her heart skips once. Then again. The air feels too thin. Her throat too tight. She reads the message over and over, like it might change if she just blinks enough times. You’re out. With someone else. Again. And this time, you’re at that place— specifically the little Italian spot with the wine you liked, the one you used to walk past together, always saying we should go there sometime, make an evening of it. The same one she never grew the courage to take you to….

Her pulse kicks up. Her skin feels too hot under her coat. She doesn’t even remember turning the car around, but suddenly she’s there—parked across the street from the restaurant, craning her neck to peer through the fogged windows. You’re not there.

She steps out anyway. Paces once. Twice. The air stings her cheeks. Still, no sign of you. So she tries the bookstore. The cozy one tucked on the corner with crooked shelves and handwritten staff picks. You always linger there, fingers trailing spines like secrets. It’s quiet now. Closing.

You’re not there either. She moves quickly now, her panic disguised as urgency. The wine bar. The café with the rooftop you always loved. The bench near the fountain where you often like to sit and talk about nothing for hours.

Empty. All of it. It’s only then that she finally lets herself go to your house. She sits on the front steps , breath visible in the cool night air, her coat drawn tight around her like a poor excuse for comfort. Her hair’s a mess from the wind—loose strands clinging to her lips, the pins long fallen out. Her mascara’s smudged at the corners of her eyes, not from crying—not yet—but from rubbing at her face in frustration. In disbelief.

Her hands are shaking. She clasps them together, digging her nails into her palms just to feel something solid. Something real. Because if you don’t come home alone tonight, If you don’t come home at all��Agatha knows she won’t be able to take it. She can lie to herself about a lot of things. She’s had a lifetime of practice. But not this. Not the thought of someone else holding you the way she used to.

Not the image of your laugh softened under someone else’s hands. Not the finality of knowing she pushed you too far, too fast, and now there’s no going back. Because if you don’t return…Then she’s lost you. Completely. And this time—it’s no one’s fault but her own.

11:42 p.m.

Agatha is still sitting on your front steps. The stone beneath her is biting cold, seeping through her coat and jeans, but she doesn’t move. Her legs have gone numb, her fingers trembling where they clutch the wrought iron railing beside her. She shifts slightly, trying to relieve the ache in her back, but it’s no use—the stiffness has settled in, just like the dread blooming in her chest.

Every sound on the street makes her flinch. The hum of a car engine blocks away. A group of teenagers laughing as they pass, their sneakers scuffing the sidewalk. Someone’s dog barking behind a fence across the street. And none of it is you.

She pulls her coat tighter, tucking her knees closer to her chest. Her hair is a wind-blown mess, strands clinging to her damp cheeks. The air is damp with the kind of cold that clings to skin and makes everything feel heavier. She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting there—an hour? Two? Time warped the second she realized you weren’t at the restaurant. Or anywhere she hoped you’d be for that matter.

Now she’s waiting—without a plan, without dignity, without a single excuse for being here except the ache in her ribs and the words she never said when it still would’ve mattered. She’s been rehearsing the whole time—what she’ll say, how she’ll say it. She runs over every version in her head. An apology. A confession. A plea.

I’m sorry.

I love you.

Please don’t choose her. But none of it feels like enough. None of it sounds right. And then, finally—headlights. They wash across the street slowly, the engine quiet as the car creeps toward your driveway. Her breath hitches when the vehicle pulls to a stop, tires crunching softly over gravel.

A familiar silhouette sits in the passenger seat. You. Agatha stands too quickly, her knees protesting the movement. She runs her palms down the front of her coat, trying to smooth out the wrinkles, trying to look composed—but her hands are shaking too hard.

You don’t see her at first. You’re laughing. That laugh she used to think belonged only to her. The one that melted every wall she ever put up. You toss your head back slightly, your eyes crinkling at something your date says. Agatha watches from the shadows, stomach lurching.

Your date—gets out first. She’s tall. Polished. Confident. She opens your door and walks you to the porch with a sense of ease that makes Agatha’s teeth clench. And then she leans in. Agatha sees red. Not rage. Not exactly. Just heat. Panic. Something visceral and splitting in her chest. Something old and terrifying and unspoken. But then you tilt your head, gently—deliberately avoiding the kiss “Thank you for tonight,” you say, soft and kind. “I had a nice time.”

And then your eyes lift.

They land on her standing just behind your date in the dark, her figure barely lit by the porch light. Her face pale. Her shoulders hunched like she’s been holding the weight of the world and only now realized how heavy it truly is.

Your body stiffens. “Agatha?” Her name comes out quiet. Surprised. Disbelieving. You take a half-step back, instinctive, your date completely forgotten. The warmth from the conversation dies instantly.

Agatha exhales a shaky breath, one that almost sounds like a laugh—but there’s nothing funny about the way she looks at you. Like you’re the only thing tethering her to the ground. Your date glances between the two of you, her brow creased. “Everything okay?”

Agatha doesn’t even blink in her direction. Her eyes are on you. Only you. You manage a quick, quiet: “I’ll call you,” but even you know it’s not true. Not really. The other woman hesitates, then nods. She gives Agatha one last look—part wary, part understanding—and walks back to her car.

Then it’s just the two of you. Silence crashes in, thick and breathless. Agatha’s lips part. Her hands twitch at her sides. She looks like she wants to speak, to explain herself, to crawl inside your skin just to be closer—but nothing comes out.

You step forward making your way up the porch, unlocking your front door. You don’t look at her when you say it, but your voice slices through the air “Are you coming in,” you murmur, “or just planning to haunt my steps all night?”

You step inside. And without a word, she follows. You shrug out of your coat with trembling hands, hanging it on the hook by the door out of habit, even as your heart thuds wildly against your ribs. Your shoes come off next, the scrape of the soles against the floor impossibly loud in the heavy silence between you. The space feels too small now. Too intimate. Like your home is holding its breath along with you.

Agatha doesn’t move. She stands just inside the doorway, soaked in moonlight and hesitation. Her coat hangs awkwardly off one shoulder, hair slightly wind-tossed, eyes wide and unguarded in a way you’ve almost never seen. She looks like a storm that finally broke open “I didn’t mean to interrupt your date,” she says finally, her voice low and hoarse.

You glance at her, tired and unimpressed. “Yes, you did.” Her lips twitch in a ghost of a smile, the guilt clear in the tilt of her brows, the faint flush rising in her cheeks. Caught.

You cross your arms, trying to keep your voice steady. “What do you want, Agatha?” She hesitates. Opens her mouth. Shuts it. You see the war behind her eyes—the part of her that wants to run and the part that dragged her to your front steps to begin with. Finally, she draws in a shaky breath.

“I want you.” You blink. Your throat tightens.

“For the night?” you ask, your voice sharper than intended. It’s a defense. A scar.

“No,” she blurts, voice breaking with urgency. “Not like that. Not anymore.” She looks at you like she’s standing on a ledge with no safety net beneath her.

“I know I ruined it,” she says, stepping forward, her voice trembling. “I know you offered me something real, and I—God—I was too scared to take it. I thought I didn’t need it. That I could keep you close without letting you in. But I was wrong.”

She stops in front of you now, barely a foot away. The tension between you is thick, alive “You’re all I think about,” she whispers. “I can’t sleep. I can’t breathe without wondering if someone else is holding you the way I used to. I don’t want that. I don’t want anyone else to touch you. I—” Her voice breaks off completely.

Then, softer than anything she’s said tonight “I love you. I’m in love with you.” The words are raw. Terrified. Honest in a way that steals the air from the room. You don’t answer. Not right away. You just stare at her, the sting of every lonely night and unanswered ache sitting in your chest like a bruise. She watches you too, eyes rimmed with the threat of tears, but she doesn’t dare move “you don’t have to say it back,” she adds quickly, voice cracking. “I just… I needed you to know. Before I lost you completely.”

You take a breath. One shaky, reluctant breath. And then, you take a step toward her “You already did lose me, Agatha.” She flinches like you slapped her “But…” you say, eyes on hers, “I didn’t stop loving you.” Her breath catches, lips parting. “I just got tired of begging for scraps…” you add, voice barely above a whisper.

Agatha nods, a tear finally breaking loose and slipping down her cheek. “You won’t have to again. I swear it. I swear it.” And when you reach for her—fingers sliding along her coat, gripping the lapels, dragging her toward you like you can’t stand the distance anymore—she falls into your arms like gravity itself gave up trying to hold her back.

She doesn’t kiss you gently. She kisses you like she’s been drowning for weeks and just found oxygen. Like she’s starving and you’re the only thing she’s ever wanted. It’s desperate. Fierce. Her hands tangle in your hair, pulling you in closer like she’s terrified you’ll vanish again if she lets go for even a second.

There’s no teasing, no hesitation, no games. Just heat. Possession. Truth. She kisses you like she’s furious at herself for ever letting you go. And you kiss her back like you’re done pretending it didn’t kill you to watch her leave. When you finally pull apart, breathless, her hands are still gripping your face like she’s anchoring herself to it.

“Mine,” she breathes, the word not a question, not a plea—just a fact. A vow. And you nod. Because of course you are. You always were. Your back hits the nearest wall with a soft thud, her mouth meeting yours once more. Agatha’s hands are everywhere—your jaw, your waist, the curve of your spine, like she can’t decide where to anchor herself first. She kisses you with a desperation that’s part apology, part hunger, and part something she’s never let herself say out loud until now.

You kiss her like you’re trying to burn every moment of pain out of your skin. Like you’re reclaiming the pieces of yourself that were left behind in every night she walked away. It’s not soft. Not at first. It’s fire. Her coat slips from her shoulders as your fingers work blindly at the tie.

Yours is next, discarded somewhere by your feet. Agatha’s lips move to your jaw, your throat, your collarbone—like she’s trying to memorize every inch of you with her mouth “I missed you,” she breathes between kisses, her voice wrecked. “God, I missed you.”

You tangle your fingers in her hair, tugging just enough to make her gasp. “You don’t get to miss me,” you say, though the words lack real venom. They come out wounded. “You left.”

She pulls back, just enough to look you in the eye. Her chest rises and falls in uneven bursts. Her hands come to cup your face, her thumbs brushing over your cheekbones like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she blinks “I know,” she whispers. “And it kills me.”

Tears mix with the heat on both your cheeks, your mouths crashing together again before either of you can say something softer—something that might shatter what’s already so fragile. The dam breaks. You stumble together down the hall, still kissing, hands shedding clothing like it’s holding you back from something inevitable. Shirts pulled off, discarded without care. Skin meets skin, and everything feels sharper—like a reminder, like a promise.

She lifts you—literally lifts you—and you let her, legs wrapping around her waist like second nature. Her mouth trails down your neck, nipping, worshiping, claiming. You gasp her name like a prayer, and she groans against your skin like she’s been waiting weeks to hear it again.

By the time she lays you down on your bed, both of you are flushed, breathless, wide-eyed and aching. But this isn’t the same as before. Because when she looks at you now—bare beneath her, hair splayed across your pillow, eyes full of everything you never said—her expression shifts. Softens. And something raw glows behind her gaze.

Love. Not lust. Not curiosity. Not convenience. Love. She leans down and kisses you slow this time. Reverent. Like she’s sorry it took this long. Like she’s not sure she deserves to be here—but she’s going to spend the rest of her life proving that she does “I’m yours,” she murmurs against your lips. “If you’ll still have me.”

You run your fingers down her back, anchoring her there. Right where she belongs “Stay,” you whisper. “Just… stay.”

Agatha pauses, her breath catching in her throat at your whispered plea. She looks into your eyes, searching for any hint of uncertainty or doubt. But all she finds is a steady, sure gaze that mirrors her own longing. With a soft, shuddering breath, she nods, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

She settles her weight more fully onto you, fitting the curves of her body against yours like two puzzle pieces clicking into place. Her hands roam over your skin, mapping the dips and swells of your form, committing every inch of you to memory. Agatha leans in, resting her forehead against yours, nose to nose, breath intermingling with each exhale. "I'm not going anywhere," she murmurs, "Not now, not ever again if I can help it."

Her fingers trace the delicate line of your jaw, the angle of your cheekbone, the flutter of your lashes as you blink up at her. "You're mine," she whispers, "And I am irrevocably, completely, yours." She seals her promise with another kiss, softer this time - a brush of lips against yours, a breath shared, a silent vow. Her heart beats against your own, a steady, slowly building rhythm that syncs with your own as if they've always been one.

You pressed yourself harder into the kiss, arms tightening around her neck, nipping her bottom lip roughly, you pulled away soothing the skin with your tongue “Then prove it-“ you whispered into her mouth, one of you legs dropping from around her waist and slipping deftly between her own, grinding up against her waiting core. Agatha groans into the fierce kiss, your arms pulling her impossibly closer, your teasing nips sending sparks of pleasure-pain straight to her core. When you whisper the challenge against her mouth, she feels a surge of determination, a hunger to prove to you the depth of her devotion.

As your leg slips between her own, pressing against her aching sex, Agatha rocked her hips forward, grinding down to spread her folds against your thigh, her clit grazing your skin on each pass, she moans softly into your mouth. You can feel the slick heat of her arousal coating your skin, the evidence of her own desire stoking the flames of your own.

"Fuck, baby..." Agatha pants against your lips, her hands slipping down to grip your ass, holding you in place as she grinds against you with increasing urgency. "I'll prove it. I'll prove it in every way imaginable..." She claims your mouth in another searing kiss, her tongue delving deep, swirling around yours, tasting every inch of you. At the same time, one of her hands slips between your bodies, fingers cupping your dripping sex, stroking and teasing your sensitive flesh.

Agatha breaks the kiss to trail her lips down your neck, sucking and nipping at the delicate skin as her fingers continue their teasing assault. Spreading your slick folds apart, stroking her fingers languidly against your sensitive flesh "I'll prove it every day," she murmurs against you, her breath hot and heavy on your throat. "Every fucking day, until you never doubt it again...never doubt me again"

Two fingers slipped lower, sinking deep into your tight heat, pumping slowly, steadily. Agatha sets a sensual rhythm, her touch intent on building you back up to that peak "Tell me what you need, sweetheart," she urges, fingers never pausing their sensual dance.

Her thumb circles your clit, rubbing firm and fast, the dual sensations of her fingers delving deep and stroking your most sensitive place pushing you towards your climax. Agatha can feel your walls starting to flutter, your body tensing as your pleasure builds. Your head lolled to the side fully exposing your neck to her assault “Fuck—mommy please—“ you whimpered hips rolling pathetically against her hand chasing her restless pleasure “need you so bad…”

Agatha growls against the column of your throat when as expose more of your delicate skin to her hungry mouth, your breathless plea spurring on the raging lust that's been building inside her "Fuck—" she rasps, sinking her teeth into the tender flesh where your neck meets your shoulder, marking you momentarily as her own.

Emboldened by your begging, Agatha pistons her fingers faster, driving into you harder, the obscene sound of your juices squelching filling the room. She grinds the heel of her palm against your clit with each thrust, a delicious pressure that borders on pain but brings only pleasure "You need mommy to ruin this perfect pussy don’t you sweetheart?" Agatha purrs, voice dripping with filthy promise. “Need me to stuff you so full that the only thing this slutty thing remembers is the feeling of my fingers?"

Her fingers curl against your inner walls, stroking that secret spot inside you that makes your vision go spotty and your toes curl. She rubs it firmly, relentlessly, while her thumb strums your clit with expert precision "Come all over mommy like a good girl…please baby"

Agatha rears back just enough to meet your gaze head-on, her eyes blazing with a fever that threatens to consume you both. She looks like a woman possessed, a woman on a mission to utterly wreck you, to ruin you for all others "Now baby," Agatha commands, punctuating her words with a harsh twist of her fingers, a vicious grind of her thumb. "Come now."

You hands shoot up around her back as you nails raked her delicate skin, leaving a trail of red marks in their wake “Fuck—Mommy I—“ you could form much more of a sentence, breath seizing in your chest. Agatha whimpers as your nails scraped down her back, the sharp sting only fueling her. She grins fiercely when your breath hitches and catches, your body going rigid beneath her touch as your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave.

"That's it, sweetheart. Fuck yes, give it to me—" Agatha growls, fucking you through your orgasm with wild abandon, every thrust pushing you higher, every jolt of her hips driving you closer to oblivion.

Your cunt clamps down viciously around her invading fingers, the rhythmic squeezing and fluttering sending bolts of pleasure shooting up Agatha's arm. She can feel every clench, every spasm, your climax playing out exquisitely across her fingers, painting them with your slick release.

"That my girl" Agatha hums out, pressure building at the base of her spine from the exquisite sensation of feeling you come undone. "Fuck, just like that sweetheart—absolutely fucking perfect” With a final thrust, Agatha buries her fingers deep inside your spasming cunt, grinding against your bundle of nerves, your eyes rolled back in your head as your orgasm crests, pushing you to the very brink of euphoria.

"Good girl..." Agatha praises breathlessly as your spasms slowly start to ease, your walls fluttering and clenching around her fingers as your climax recedes. She leans down to brush a tender kiss against your sweat-slicked brow, a stark contrast to the ferocious passion of just moments before. "Such a perfect, beautiful girl..."

With ragged breath you skimmed you hand up her side rest on her jaw, grip slightly tight. Turning her gaze to your own you leaned up brushing your nose against her own “I think it’s only fair you clean up the mess you made…” you whisper leg slowly drawing from between her own opening your up to her once more.

Agatha settled back between your spread thighs, the loss of your touch against her aching sex making her groan. But tonight wasn’t about her, she knew that. It was about convincing you. Agatha shivers at your commanding touch, your grip tightening almost possessively on her jaw. She turns her gaze to meet yours, Her eyes locking with your own, the air between you charged with lingering lust and something deeper, more profound.

A slow, wicked smile spreads across her face at your whispered words, the corner of her mouth kicking up in a grin that holds a promise of sin and satisfaction. "You may be right my love—" Agatha purrs, her voice a low, husky rasp in the aftermath of your shared passion. She leans in, brushing her nose against yours in a gesture of intimate familiarity, her breath mingling with your own as she speaks. "And I intend to clean up every last trace..."

With a final, gentle caress of your inner walls, Agatha slowly withdraws her fingers, dragging them out in a way that makes you whimper and squirm. She brings them up between your bodies, coated in your slick, glistening with your climax. She makes a show of suckling your essence from her fingers, her tongue laving each digit clean until not a single trace of your release remains. "Delicious," she murmurs, eyes fluttering closed in bliss. "The sweetest fuckin' nectar..."

She leans down to capture your lips in a deep, filthy kiss, your mixed flavors mingling on your tongue as she presses you back against the mattress. One of her hands tangles in your hair, gripping gently as she ravages your mouth with a renewed sense of hunger. Nipping you bottom lip she begins a trail across your jaw, down your neck and chest stop just at you stomach, stopping to suck a deep claiming mark.

Your fingers tangled in her hair and your hips starting to rock forward softly, her mouth always was a weakness of yours, your nails dug into her scalp in an exquisite blend of pleasure and slight pain. A low, approving growl rumbles from her throat at your touch, telling a story of desperate, aching need.

Your hips start to undulate, rocking slowly against her as her mouth blazes a searing path down your over-sensitized skin. Agatha can feel the heat radiating from your core, the residual warmth of your climax against her belly as you grind yourself against her "How do you want me to clean you up, sweetheart?" Agatha murmurs against your skin teasingly, her breath hot and heavy, her words disjointed and ragged with lingering lust. "Tell me, baby. Tell me just how much you need mommy’s mouth—"

She nips and sucks at the soft skin just below your belly button, pausing to circle the small indentation with the tip of her tongue. Her hands skim up your ribcage, cupping the soft swell of your breasts, palming the tender flesh and rolling your nipples between her fingers until they stiffen into tight, aching peaks.

"Do you want mommy's tongue buried deep in this greedy little cunt?" Agatha purrs, one hand drifting down to stroke through your soaked folds, teasingly spreading them, brushing against your clit as she spoke. She licks a slow broad stripe up your slit, her tongue delving deep to gather your slick on every pass. "Or maybe you want me here…." Agatha continued on, now circling your puckered rear hole with the tip of her finger, pressing teasingly at the entrance. "Stuff it full of mommy's fingers and tongue until this gorgeous body remembers nothing but the feeling of me..."

“Oh fuck—“ you whimpered softly hips snapping forward. Even in the few short weeks apart you’ve truly forgotten just how bad you missed this—missed her. Agatha feels your grip tighten almost painfully in her hair, your fingers pulling the strands nearly to the point of tears springing to your eyes. The sharp sting only serves to ignite the hunger burning inside her, the need to utterly consume you, to claim you in every way possible.

With a low, feral growl, Agatha surges forward, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises as she throws your legs over her shoulders. She buried her face between your thighs, inhaling deeply the musky, heady scent of your arousal "Fuck, I love how fuckin' wet you always are for me," Agatha rasps, her voice muffled against your sex.

She doesn't waste any more time, her tongue delving deep into your folds to lap up the slick evidence of your pleasure. Agatha groans at the taste of you, hot and sweet and utterly intoxicating on her tongue. She can't get enough, can't seem to stop until she's tased every inch.

Her tongue swirls around your clit, flicking and sucking at the sensitive bud until your hips buck and writhe beneath her touch. At the same time, Agatha plunges two fingers knuckle-deep into your dripping channel, pumping slowly, steadily, curling against that spot inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids.

"Come on, baby," Agatha coaxes, voice heavy with lust as she fucks you with single-minded determination. She seals her lips around your clit and sucks hard, flicking the tip of her tongue against it rapidly as she drives her fingers deeper, fucking you harder, pushing you towards your peak with every thrust. The obscene sound of your juices fills the room, the slick squelch of her fingers pumping into your soaked hole spurring on your impending climax.

Agatha can feel your body tensing, your breath coming in sharp, keening cries as your pleasure builds to a fevered pitch. She doubles her efforts, fucking you with wild abandon, the obscene slap of flesh against flesh echoing through the room as she chases your release with single-minded focus.

Suddenly, your grip on her hair tightens once more as your back arches clean off the bed, a silent scream tearing from your throat. Agatha feels your pussy clamp down viciously around her fingers, the rhythmic squeezing and fluttering a telltale sign of your impending climax.

"Yes baby, fuck yes!" Agatha growls against your sex, the vibrations sending shockwaves of ecstasy straight up your spine. "Come on my fucking face sweetheart " She pistons her fingers in tandem with the movements of her tongue, each curl and thrust pushing you closer to the edge. Just as your scream turns into a hoarse, piercing wail, Agatha feels your pussy spasm around her invading digits, milking them, greedily trying to suck them in deeper.

"FUCK! Oh god—!" you cry out, body writhing as your orgasm crashes over you in fierce, unrelenting waves. Your release gushes from your cunt in thick, creamy spurts, flooding Agatha's mouth and chin as she works tirelessly to prolong your pleasure. Agatha swallows every drop, greedy for your essence, starved for the taste of your completion. She laps and suckles until your thighs start to tremble, until your grip on her hair turns to gentle petting as the aftershocks start to ebb.

Finally, as the last waves of your release roll through you, leaving you boneless and spent beneath her, Agatha slowly lifts her head. She keeps your thighs hitched high over her shoulders, her fingers still buried deep inside your fluttering sheath as she gazes up at you with a look of pure, unadulterated adoration.

"Just as addictive as I remembered," she murmurs, voice low and sated. She leans in to brush a tender kiss against your inner thigh before slowly, reluctantly, withdrawing her fingers from your still-twitching hole. Bringing them up to her mouth, Agatha makes a show of licking them clean, savoring the flavor of your climax on her tongue.

Satisfied that every last drop has been licked away, Agatha shifts back softly placing your legs down before crawling up to lie beside you, draping one arm across your waist and pulling your limp, pliant body flush against her own. She buries her face in the sweat-damp hair at the nape of your neck, breathing in the scent of sex and satisfaction.

“There’s no place I’d rather be than right here, sweetheart,” Agatha murmurs, her voice low and intimate, the kind of tone that vibrates against your skin more than it touches your ears. Her hand glides slowly, reverently, down your side—her fingers tracing the gentle slope of your waist, the soft give of your hip. The caress is tender, almost worshipful, her palm wide and warm as it soothes the small tremors still lingering in your muscles.

You can’t speak yet. Your body’s still humming, the aftershocks of your intense climax still pulsing through your limbs like echoes. But it’s different now. No longer electric, just… warm. Lingering. Gentle. Like your body finally knows it’s safe to let go.

Agatha feels the shift. She senses the way you begin to melt against her, the way your breathing evens out as your cheek presses to her chest. Her arms wrap tighter around you, holding you close like something she can’t believe she gets to keep. And she cradles you like that—protective, unyielding, reverent. As if you’re something sacred.

As if she’ll never let you go again. You nuzzle instinctively into the crook of her neck, your nose brushing the soft line beneath her jaw, chasing her warmth. You breathe her in—her scent, her skin, her presence—like it’s air and you’d been starving for it.

Agatha tilts her head to press a kiss to the top of your hair—soft, lingering, full of something unspoken and endless. Her fingers resume their slow path down your spine, tracing every curve and hollow with care, memorizing the feel of you beneath her touch.

“I’ve got you, baby—” she whispers, her breath a soothing rush over your ear. “You’re safe with me…” The words settle into your bones like a lullaby. Her voice is warm and steady, a low, calming rumble that sinks into the quiet spaces inside you and fills them with something like peace.

She shifts then, gently guiding you as she rolls onto her back, taking you with her. Your body drapes over hers effortlessly, like you were always meant to fit there. One of her arms wraps securely around your waist, fingers spreading over the small of your back, grounding you. The other rises to cup your cheek, thumb stroking softly along the edge of your jaw before brushing against your bottom lip.

You feel her eyes on you, and when you look up, what you see nearly steals your breath. Agatha is gazing at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. Her eyes are darker, molten with warmth, glowing with a depth of tenderness that makes your heart ache in the best possible way.

“You were so good for me, sweetheart,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “So perfect. So beautiful. I’m so fuckin’ proud of you…” She leans in slowly, giving you time to meet her halfway—and when your lips touch again, it’s nothing like before. This kiss isn’t rushed. It’s not urgent, or desperate, or wild. It’s slow. Deep. Full.

Agatha kisses you like she’s laying down roots. Like she’s planting something in you that will never stop growing. She pours everything into that kiss—every apology she never voiced, every night she spent aching for you, every ounce of devotion she only now feels brave enough to show. It seeps into you with every press of her lips, every sigh, every quiet, sacred pass of her thumb along your skin.

When she finally pulls back, her forehead rests gently against yours, nose brushing yours, breaths intermingling in the soft dark. “I’m not going anywhere,” she murmurs, the promise stitched into every syllable. “And I need you to know I mean that—”She pauses, her thumb sweeping across your cheek. “Not now. Not ever again.” Her fingers trail across your face, gentle as starlight, tracing the curve of your cheekbone, the line of your jaw, the flutter of your lashes as you blink up at her. Her gaze never leaves yours.

“You’re mine,” she whispers, voice breaking just slightly. “And I am irrevocably, completely, yours.” She seals the vow with another kiss. This one is soft—barely a brush. A breath shared. A silent promise. Her hand settles at the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, holding you close.

Your heartbeat syncs with hers as your body fully relaxes against her, chests rising and falling in tandem, the rhythm natural, familiar. Home. Agatha kisses your forehead, then your temple, then your lips one last time before pulling the blanket up around your shoulders. She keeps you pressed to her, arm tight around you, skin-to-skin, heart-to-heart.

“I love you,” she says again, so quietly it’s almost a prayer. Wonder drips from her voice, like she still can’t believe she’s allowed to say it. “I love you so damn much.” You respond only by curling into her, your breath warm against her collarbone, your body sighing against hers. And finally, together, limbs tangled and hearts steady, you both begin to drift—safe, wrapped in each other, love settling around you like the softest kind of peace.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha x reader #kathryn hahn x reader #kathryn hahn #rio vidal

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russo-woso · 17 hours ago

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New feelings || Aggie Beever-Jones x reader

Request + Request | Masterlist

Warning smut 18+, strap on, breeding kink, squirting, fingering, cunnilingus

Summary Some new feelings arise when you see Aggie with a baby

“Oh, hi.” Aggie cooed as she took the fans baby in her arms. “How old is he?”

“Three months. We decided it was time for him to see Chelsea play for the first time.” The fan responded

You continued to watch Aggie with the baby, your stomach doing flips as she cradled the baby so gently.

You’d been saying Aggie since the Under 17 England camps and the talk of your future had come up many times before - the two of you dreaming of children with each other - but you’d never actually seen Aggie with a baby.

You quickly walked through the tunnel and into the changing rooms, trying to think of something other than Aggie with the baby but it was impossible.

“Hiya, love. You played so well today.” Aggie said, her hands coming to rest on your ass as she kissed you. “I just met the cutest little fella. He was so small.”

“I saw.” You said, your cheeks reddened as you imagined Aggie with a baby - your baby.

“Oh, that was quite a reaction.” Again smirked, gripping your hips as you hid your face in embarrassment. “I’ll keep that in mind for later.”

“Aggie…” you whined, hiding your face in her neck.

“What’s going through your head, darling?”

“You with the baby made me think things.” You revealed, Aggie knowing what you meant.

“Did it now?” Aggie laughed

“Please, just forget it. It’s embarrassing.”

“Hey, I’m not forgetting this, darlin’. Try get some sleep on the coach because we’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

Just like Aggie said, you were in for a long night.

As soon as you stepped into your apartment, you knew what was going to happen.

Aggie had dropped the bags, before pushing you against the wall, her hands on your hips as she kissed you deeply.

“When you saw me with the baby, did you think about us having a baby?” Aggie asked, the two of you breathless from the kiss.

You nodded before taking a deep breath.

“I also thought about you trying to get me pregnant.” You said with a smirk, Aggie bringing you back into a kiss.

“Fuck, I know I cant but tonight I’m gonna try my hardest.” Aggie told you, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom.

You may have crashed into a few things on the way there but you had bigger things on your mind.

“Take your shirt off, baby.” Aggie said and you did, leaving you in your bra.

Aggie lips immediately connected to your upper left breast where the lace of your bra sat.

She sucked harshly, marking you - marking what’s hers.

You lifted yourself onto your forearms so Aggie could reach your back, undoing your bra with expertise.

You let it fall off you as she threw it to one side.

Her tongue immediately ran over your hardened nipple.

She sucked gently as you squirmed under her.

Her fingers came to play with your other nipple, pinching and pulling at it.

Your back arched as she kissed down your chest, getting closer and closer to where you needed her.

“Gonna make you a mummy tonight.” Aggie whispered against your pussy as you let out a breathy moan.

Her tongue ran through your folds as she lapped gently at them.

She moaned helplessly as she tasted you.

“Fuck.” You muttered as her tongue flicked at your clit. “Feels so good, Aggie.”

She gripped your thighs to stop you from squirming.

“Aggie.” You moaned, pulling at her hair as you felt your pleasure building.

She continued to lap at your pussy, before sucking at your clit.

“Aggie, baby…”

“Close, darling?”

“So close. Fuck ‘m gonna cum. Please don’t stop.” You begged

Aggie continued sucking at you clit but just as you were about to reach your high, she pulled away leaving you shocked and desperate.

“Aggie!” You whined, throwing your head back in frustration.

“Sit in front of the mirror for me.” Aggie said.

You gave her a confused look, moving to fit in front of the mirror you had on your wardrobe that faced the bed.

Aggie came and sat behind you, he hands spreading your legs revealing your soaked pussy in the mirror.

Her fingers travelled to your clit as she rubbed it gently.

You tilted your head so it rested against her shoulder, small whimpers leaving your mouth at the sensitivity.

“Look at the mess you’re making, darling. Making a mess for me.” Aggie whispered in your ear as she pushed her middle finger into your soaked core.

Your back arched away from her chest at the action.

She pumped her finger into and out, as she sucked at your neck.

“Look in the mirror.”

You obeyed her command, looking at the mess you were making on her fingers.

She thrusted in and out with pace, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust.

“Fuck, Aggie, I’m gonna cum already.” You warned her, desperate to come.

“You can cum for me, darling. Cum on my fingers for me.”

You threw your head back against her as you came, a cry leaving your mouth as your pussy tightened around her fingers.

“Such a good girl for me. Gonna be an even better girl and gonna take my dick. Gonna let me make you a mummy.” Aggie said, whispering the last bit in your ear.

The words itself made you moan.

“Please make me a mummy. Let me have your baby.”

Aggie grabbed the strap and put it on herself, lining it up with your entrance and slowly pushing in.

You’d taken it many a times before but this felt different.

Your eyes shut as you felt Aggie bury the strap in you.

“Such a good girl.” She cooed, rubbing your clit to take away the sting.

She slowly moved in and out, stretching you out gently.

She had no issue moving in and out, your previous orgasm having made you dripping.

“Fuck.” You moaned, the feeling overwhelming as you clawed at Aggie’s back.

“I know, love.”

She started moving quicker, your body squirming as she thrusted in and out of you.

“Feels good.” You managed to say through moans.

“I’m gonna cum in you, love. Gonna make you a mummy. You’re gonna carry my baby. God you’d look so gorgeous with my baby.”

The feeling of her cock pounding into you along with her words made you closer to your impending orgasm.

She grabbed your legs, spreading them even further as she pounded into you.

You cried out as she reached the deepest part of your pussy.

“Oh my god. I’m gonna cum. Fuck, please make me a mummy. Aggie, let me have your baby. Fuck I’m coming!” You babbled as you pulled her into you, her hips relentlessly pounding into you.

A wave of pleasure ran through you as clear liquid soaked the sheets and Aggie’s torso.

“Fuck, baby. You squirted.” Aggie muttered, looking at the strap that was buried inside you.

You hummed, too overwhelmed and tired to speak.

“Oh, love. Do you want me to get you anything? Water? A snack? Do you want me to run you a bath?” Aggie asked, having pulled the strap out of you and taking it off herself.

“I just want cuddles.”

“Okay, come on then.”

Aggie laid down, pulling you onto her chest as you listened to her heartbeat.

Although you were definitely too young for a baby, you knew one day, Aggie would make you a mummy.

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #womens football #woso fanfics #woso smut #aggie beever jones

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theatre-gay-they · 2 days ago

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This makes me feel like maybe I should try some really old windows machine (not connected to the internet for obvious reasons) and see if it actually is better to use the office-suite stuff. (rn I have LibreOffice if I need to like open the relevant file formats but I rarely use it bc I take lab notes and such in text documents lmao)

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inseobts · 2 days ago

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Heartstrings pt.1

trafalgar law x reader

amid the chaos of punk hazard, you reunite with trafalgar law, stirring old memories, buried emotions, and a shared past haunted by corazon’s death. but there's no time to dwell—doflamingo’s name resurfaces, and this time, you refuse to let history repeat itself.

tags: punk hazard and dressrosa spoilers I guess, angst to fluff, childhood friends, slow burn

word count: 3.9k

masterlist || ko-fi

The battlefield of Punk Hazard is complete chaos. Flames roar, metal groans under the heat, and the sharp scent of burning chemicals stings your nose. In other words? It’s just a typical Tuesday with the Strawhats.

You arrive later on the fight. Heart pounding, mind racing. This island is already a disaster zone, and at the center of it all is the man you never thought you’d see again.

Trafalgar Law.

He’s standing a few yards away, dressed in that ridiculous yellow hoodie, his sword resting against his shoulder. His golden eyes widen the second they land on you, freezing in place.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The sounds of battle fade into the background, drowned out by the roaring in your ears.

He looks… older. Sharper. But still him.

You exhale sharply, not actually connecting your mouth to your brain, so all you could say is “Well, damn. You actually got taller.”

Law blinks “What the hell…?”

The shock in his voice makes something in your chest tighten, but you shove the feeling aside. There's no time for that.

Luffy, being Luffy, swings by on a random piece of debris, grinning like an idiot “Oi! Y/N, you know Tra-guy?!”

Law groans “Don’t call me that”

You snort. Still the same old grump.

Flashback – Many Years Ago “You hate nicknames, don’t you?” you muse, watching Law scowl as Corazon ruffles his hair. The little boy smacks Corazon’s hand away “They’re annoying.” You smirk “So if I call you Law-chan...” “Don’t.”

Back to the Present

Your smirk widens “Some things never change.”

Law crosses his arms, studying you carefully. You can practically see the gears turning in his head.

“You’re with them?”

“Yup.”

“How?”

You shrug “Just happened to meet them on my way”

Law stares and before he can respond, Zoro rushes towards the group, resting a hand on his sword “We done with the staring contest? We got a fight to win.”

Law finally shakes his head, exhaling sharply “We’ll talk later.”

You grin “Looking forward to it... Captain.”

He groans. This is going to be a long day.

Law is still staring at you like you just came back from the dead. To be fair, you might as well have.

“Seriously...” he says, voice flat “You’re with them?”

You stretch your arms behind your head, nodding “Yup. You’re repeating yourself, Captain Law.”

His eye twitches.

Luffy, still hanging off a random metal pipe, grins like this is the funniest thing ever “Oi, Tra-guy! You should’ve seen your face when you saw Y/N! It was all like—” He scrunches up his face, trying (and failing) to mimic Law’s perpetual scowl.

Law glares at him, jaw tightening “We have more important things to deal with than my face.”

Flashback – Many Years Ago “You’re so grumpy” you tease, watching as little-kid Law glares at the deck of cards in his hands. The two of you are sitting outside a small, dimly lit inn, the sounds of the ocean lapping against the dock in the distance. Corazon snores quietly a few feet away, passed out in an awkward position against some barrels. Law, still scowling, slaps his cards down “This game is stupid.” You snicker “You’re just losing.” His scowl deepens. “You never know how to just relax...” you continue, leaning back against the crate “Do you even have any fun?” “I don’t have time for fun.” You roll your eyes, flicking one of his cards at him “You say that like you’re forty.” He grumbles under his breath, shuffling the cards again, because even if he pretends not to care, he actually just refuses to lose.

Back to the Present

Looking at Law now, arms crossed, brow furrowed, looking two seconds away from throwing someone off a cliff, you have to bite back a smirk.

He's always the same Law you knew years and years ago.

“So,” you continue, tilting your head “are we gonna talk about the fact that you look like you literally saw a ghost?”

Law exhales through his nose, looking at you with a very unimpressed look “I thought you were dead.”

You blink “…What?”

He gestures vaguely “After everything that happened, after Cora-san… you just disappeared. I didn't know where you went or what happened to you.”

Oh.

For the first time since you saw him again, your playful demeanor falters slightly. Your chest tightens, old memories stirring... memories of fire, blood, and loss.

“I didn’t disappear,” you say quietly “I just… didn’t know how to find you.”

The words hang between you, unspoken things left unsaid. Law stares at you for a long moment, and just for a second you think you see something soften in his expression.

And then BOOM.

A nearby explosion sends rubble flying, and Law immediately turns, jaw tightening. Back to business.

“We’ll talk later” he says firmly.

You smirk, shaking off the heaviness in your chest “Looking forward to it.”

As you both sprint back into battle.

The battlefield is pure chaos. You’re currently dodging a sword swipe from some grinning lunatic in a gas mask.

“Damn it!” You twist out of the way, rolling across the wreckage-covered ground.

The masked guy lets out a laugh, lunging at you again only for his head to suddenly detach from his body.

"What the—?" You blink, watching as the severed head tumbles to the ground. The body doesn't collapse, it stops like it's... confused. The head groans.

“Ugh… my body…”

You glance at the blue glow surrounding the air. Then, slowly, you turn.

Law is standing a few feet away, looking completely unbothered. His sword is still drawn, golden eyes sharp and calculating.

You let out a low whistle “Still dramatic as ever, huh?”

Law huffs, flicking his sword to the side “You were taking too long.”

Flashback – Years Ago “Any day now” Law mutters, arms crossed as he watches you struggle. You glare at him, sweating as you try to pick the lock on the cell “This is harder than it looks, okay?!” He sighs heavily, kneeling beside you “Move” Before you can protest, he effortlessly picks the lock in under ten seconds. The door swings open with a creak. You stare at him. He shrugs “You were taking too long.” You roll your eyes “Show-off.”

Back to the Present

You shake your head, smirking “You haven’t changed at all.”

Law ignores you, already moving forward like he hasn’t just casually decapitated a man “Come on. We don’t have time to waste.”

You jog after him, stepping over the still-whining head “You could at least pretend to be happy to see me.”

“I don’t have time for that, either.”

You scoff “No time for emotions, huh? That’s very on-brand for you, Captain.”

He rolls his eyes before walking off, and you follow him into battle.

Flames crackle from a collapsed wall, the ground is littered with rubble and unconscious enemies, and the air is thick with smoke and chaos. Luffy is somewhere still fighting Caesar Clown, while the rest of the crew is scattered across the battlefield.

And you?

You’re stuck with Trafalgar Law, currently running for your life down a crumbling hallway while a wave of toxic gas rushes after you.

“Do you ever think things through before jumping into danger?” Law shouts over the deafening roar of destruction behind you.

You flash him a grin “Nope! That’s what makes life fun!”

His eye twitches “You’re insufferable.”

“Aw, you missed me.”

“I absolutely did not—”

A sudden explosion cuts him off, sending debris crashing down from above. Your eyes widen.

“Shit—”

You shove Law forward, forcing both of you into a dive just as the ceiling collapses behind you, sealing off the corridor. A massive cloud of dust kicks up, making you cough as you push yourself up onto your elbows.

For a moment, silence.

“You’re insane.”

You glance up to see Law, still flat on his back, staring at you like you’re the most exhausting person in the world.

You smirk “Yeah, but you like that about me.”

He exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose “I don’t.”

“You always used to do this” Law mutters, standing up and dusting himself off.

“Do what?” you ask, doing the same.

“Throw yourself into danger like you have a death wish.”

You roll your eyes “I don’t have a death wish, I just...” You pause.

Law raises an eyebrow “Just what?”

You glance at him, hesitating for a split second before shrugging “I just don’t think twice when someone needs help... especially if it's for someone I care about.”

Law is silent for a moment, eyes scanning your face. Then, with an unreadable expression, he turns “Come on. We’re not done here.”

You grin, falling into step beside him “You’re such a softie, you know that?”

He groans “Shut up, Y/N.”

The battle is finally over.

You stand on the charred ground, catching your breath as the cold sea breeze blows through the wreckage. Your body aches, your clothes are torn, and there’s a smudge of soot on your cheek.

Luffy, of course, is grinning like he didn’t just go toe-to-toe with some of the most dangerous people in the New World “That was fun!”

Law, standing a few feet away, looks like he wants to strangle him “You nearly got yourself killed, Luffy-ya.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t!”

Law pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks two seconds away from throwing himself into the ocean.

You laugh, patting his shoulder “Told you, you get used to them.”

He shoots you a deadpan look “No. I don’t.”

Law watches you carefully, as if he’s still trying to figure out how you ended up here, with Luffy of all people.

Before he can say anything, Robin speaks up “So, what’s next?”

Law exhales, finally turning back to the group “We set sail. Now that Caesar is captured, we move forward with the next phase of the plan.”

“And what plan is that?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Law’s golden eyes flicker to you.

“Doflamingo.”

The name alone makes the air heavier. The casual atmosphere from before vanishes.

You freeze.

Doflamingo.

The name alone pulls you straight back to the past.

Your chest tightens. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears.

Law is still talking, explaining the next steps of his alliance with Luffy, but your mind is already made up.

All you feel is fear.

Because you’ve just heard the name that still haunts your nightmares after so many years.

You barely hear the rest of the conversation, his plan, the alliance with Luffy, the decision to go to Dressrosa and face him.

Your blood runs cold.

No. No, no, no—

“You can’t” you say, voice sharp.

Law stops mid-sentence. Everyone turns to look at you.

He raises an eyebrow “What?”

“You can’t go after him” you say again, louder this time.

Luffy tilts his head “Eh? Why not?”

“Because he’ll kill you!” your voice shakes, but you don’t care. You turn to Law, expecting him to understand “You should know better than anyone!”

Law’s expression darkens. The others exchange looks, but you don’t care about them right now.

“You don’t understand what you’re dealing with” you continue, now glaring at all of them “Doflamingo isn’t just some pirate, he’s a monster. He’ll tear you apart without even breaking a sweat.”

Luffy shrugs “So? We’ll just beat him up.”

You snap.

“This isn’t some stupid adventure, Luffy! This isn’t about finding treasure or having fun! This is Doflamingo! He’s destroyed more lives than you can count! He—” Your voice catches, you now turn to Law with tears in your eyes “He killed Corazon.”

Silence.

No one says anything.

Law’s golden eyes are locked on you, unreadable. The weight of your words lingers in the cold air.

You swallow hard, chest tight “I can’t—I can’t lose anyone else by him”

Because you remember.

You remember holding Corazon’s hand as his blood soaked into the snow. You remember screaming for help that never came. You remember losing him, losing Law, losing everything.

And now, after all these years, after finally finding him again, Law is walking into the same fate.

You shake your head, fists clenched “I won’t let you do this.”

Law, for a moment, just stares. His face is carefully blank, but you know him too well.

Then, finally, he speaks.

“You think I don’t know what’s at stake?” His voice is low, controlled but there’s an edge to it, something raw “You think I don’t remember what he did?”

You open your mouth but he cuts you off.

“I’ve spent my entire life planning this” he continues, stepping closer. His golden eyes burn with something fierce, something painful “This isn’t just revenge. This is about ending him. For Corazon. For Dressrosa. For everyone he’s ever used and discarded. For you.”

Your breath catches.

Law holds your gaze, unwavering “I’m not asking you to like it. I’m not asking you to approve. But I am asking you...” His voice softens “Do you still trust me?”

Your chest tightens.

Because of course you do. You always have and you always will.

Law doesn’t break eye contact, waiting for your answer.

Finally, you exhale. You close your eyes, steadying yourself and then look back at him.

“…Fine” you say quietly “I’m coming with you.”

Law nods once, like he expected nothing less.

Luffy grins “You can stay on the ship if you want, y’know!”

You snort “Not a chance.”

Because if Law is going into hell again you’re going with him.

The ship is calm for now, headed to Dressrosa to face Doflamingo and you are going to make sure no one, not a single person you care about, gets lost along the way.

You sit at the edge of the ship, the wind pulling at your hair, while the others are belowdeck, preparing, resting, no one else is up here. Just you and the open ocean stretching out before you.

And him.

Law is leaning against the ship’s railing, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, eyes watching the horizon. His expression is unreadable, like always, but there’s a weight in the air between you.

You stay quiet, unsure of what to say, as the distance between you two feels as heavy as the ocean.

Finally, Law speaks, his voice cutting through the silence “You really don’t have to come.”

You glance at him, but he doesn’t look at you.

“I’m not staying behind, Law” you reply. Your voice is steady, though inside, it feels like your heart is pounding against your ribs “I’m going with you. End of the story.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment.

Then, softly, he asks “Why?”

Your breath catches. You think about it for a second.

“I—I’m not going to lose you too” you say quietly, eyes still locked on the horizon, not daring to look at him “I couldn’t handle it again. Not after…” Your voice breaks, and you quickly swallow the lump in your throat.

Law shifts slightly, as if he’s processing your words. He doesn’t interrupt, just watches you closely.

Finally, after a long pause, he speaks again “I can’t promise you nothing will happen.”

You finally look at him, searching his eyes “I know.”

For a second, there’s a flicker of something fragile and vulnerable across his face, but it disappears almost instantly. Law looks away, his gaze returning to the horizon.

“I don’t need you getting in the way” he says, his voice quieter now, but there’s a hint of something deeper underneath.

“Don’t worry,” you reply with a wry smile “I’m not going anywhere. But, seriously, I’m helping. And if you try to stop me, I’ll probably make things worse.”

He raises an eyebrow “You’re already making things worse.”

You laugh, that familiar, comfortable tension between you rising again “Good. I like to keep you on your toes”

Law sighs, exasperated but not really surprised “I’ll never understand you, Y/N.”

“I’m not asking you to” you smile, the warmth of the moment softening the edges of everything else.

The two of you stand there for a while longer, watching the ocean, the silent understanding between you both deepening.

“I...” you hesitate, wondering if now’s the right time, but you push through, because you can’t keep avoiding it forever “I’ve been looking for you...”

Law raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t speak, so you continue.

“You know, after everything happened, I...” you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself “I never stopped looking for you, Law. Ever.”

This time, he turns his head just slightly, eyes catching yours, though his expression is still hard to read “You’ve been looking for me?”

You nod “Yeah. Everywhere. When Corazon… When he died, I couldn't find you. For years I didn’t know what to do. Then, I started looking for you following the news, the reports on pirates, on the underworld. Anything that might give me a clue where you were.”

Law frowns, his eyes narrowing slightly. You can see the flicker of confusion, but he doesn’t say anything yet.

“But I actually had no idea where to start, there was no news about you” you continue “But after some time, I finally caught wind of you... Law, the Surgeon of Death, the pirate captain of the Heart Pirates” Your chest tightens as you recall those dark days “I saw reports of you here and there, and I followed the trail. And that’s how I ended up with the Strawhats... since you wanted to know how I ended up with them”

You watch his face closely, trying to gauge his reaction, but his eyes are still shadowed with something you can’t quite place.

You take a slow, shaky breath before continuing “After what happened to Corazon I was never sure you were still alive. I hoped. But after years of silence, I started to think the worst. That maybe you were… At least until I saw a grown up version of you on a bounty poster. For the first time ever, I was actually relieved and happy seeing your ugly face”

Finally, Law speaks, his voice low “You shouldn’t have followed me. It wasn’t safe.”

You stiffen at his words “I couldn’t just sit back while I had no idea where you were, what happened to you. I had to meet you.”

The tension between you both thickens, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

Finally, Law sighs, turning his back to the railing and facing you directly “I didn’t want you to get hurt, y/n. After everything that happened, I thought you were...” His voice cracks, and he cuts himself off, clearly uncomfortable.

You can’t help but soften a little, the edge of your anger fading as you see the vulnerability beneath his words.

“Dead?” you finish quietly, your eyes not leaving his.

Law looks away, his jaw tightening, like he’s trying to keep his emotions locked inside “I thought you were dead. After what happened with Corazon, and everything that came after… I thought you were gone too. And there were no news about you around, you don't have a bounty poster... I'm sorry.”

For a moment, you’re not sure what to say. But then, slowly, you step closer to him “It’s okay. I get it. You don’t need to apologize. Also, I have a bounty poster but they used my nickname instead of a real name, and I used to hide my face with a mask. At least before meeting Luffy a few months ago.”

The silence between you both feels less suffocating now, but there’s still something unspoken between you. A promise, maybe. An understanding.

Finally, you speak again, voice quieter this time “I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere. Not until this is over. Not until we’re done with Doflamingo.”

Law’s eyes are searching yours, like he’s looking for something. Then, after a moment, he nods, just the slightest inclination of his head “Good.”

You both stand there for a few more moments, neither of you needing to say anything else.

But in this moment, the weight of the past doesn’t feel so heavy. There’s a fragility between you both now, an unspoken promise that no matter what happens next, you’ll be facing it together.

“You’re still scared” he says.

You scoff “Of course I am. You should be too.”

Flashback The cold stone halls of the Donquixote estate stretch endlessly around you, silent except for the faint echo of distant voices. You’re small, a child, but you know better than to let your guard down. A shadow looms ahead. Him. Doflamingo stands at the end of the corridor, golden sunglasses catching the dim light. His presence is suffocating, his smile sharp like a knife. “You should be grateful” he says, his voice calm, almost amused “Not many get to live under my protection.” You say nothing. You never say anything when he talks like this. You remember Corazon’s warning: Don’t let him see your fear. But it’s hard, when every instinct in your body screams to run. Doflamingo takes a step closer “And yet, you look at me like you want to disappear.” Your fists clench at your sides. You don’t answer. His smile doesn’t falter. Then, suddenly Law bursts between you, arms outstretched like a shield. His breathing is heavy, but his glare is sharp. Doflamingo chuckles “How touching.” “Leave y/n alone” Law growls. Doflamingo tilts his head, amused “Or what?” Law doesn’t answer. He just stands his ground and for a long moment, there’s silence. Then, Doflamingo laughs while walking away “pathetic.” “…You didn’t have to do that” you murmur. He finally looks at you, his expression unreadable “Yes, I did.” You don’t argue. Because he’s right. Because back then, all you had was each other.

Back to the Present

You let out a humorless laugh “Funny, isn’t it? After all these years, we’re back where we started. Facing him. Again.”

Law’s voice is quiet, but firm “It’s different this time.”

You turn to him, searching his face “How?”

His eyes meet yours “Because this time, we’re strong enough to end it.”

Your breath catches.

Law keeps watching you with that unreadable expression of his.

And suddenly, it’s too much. The space between you feels unbearable.

You spent years looking for him, chasing rumors, hoping, praying, that you’d find him alive and when you finally did you froze.

Because part of you was afraid that if you touched him, he’d disappear. That he wasn’t real. That the universe would rip him away like it did before.

But now, standing here and knowing what’s ahead, you can’t hold it in anymore.

You step forward.

Law’s eyes widen slightly in surprise as you close the distance between you. Before he can say anything you throw your arms around him.

His body stiffens.

For a second, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t breathe, and then slowly you feel him relax.

It’s subtle, but he doesn’t pull away. His arms remain at his sides, but he doesn’t stop you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, gripping the fabric of his coat. You whisper, voice trembling “For years, Law. I thought... I thought I lost you, too.”

Law doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move.

Your fingers curl tighter into his jacket “I should have done this sooner,” you murmur “back on Punk Hazard. When I first saw you again.”

There’s a pause. Then, finally, he moves.

“…You’re an idiot.”

You laugh, though it’s watery and weak “Yeah,” you say, tightening your grip “I know.”

Law doesn’t push you away. For a moment he lets himself lean into you.

It’s not much. It’s barely anything. But after everything, after the years of loss, of loneliness, of silence...

It’s everything.

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