#her pride i guess the way she carries herself

[theket]

genuinely mourning jackie taylor every day for the rest of my life because not only was she just a girl in an unhappy relationship (comphet if you ask me) trying her best to cheer up her friends during AWFUL times but then those friends brushed her off because they didnt want to talk about the shit they did. leading to her death. she was genuinely one of the only sane people out in the wilderness (while if she lived it probably wouldve gotten to her too) and while she wasnt necessarily a good best friend at least she didnt carry this unspoken hatred and bitterness that she probably never planned to address until she absolutely had to born out of insecurity and jealousy and then blaming it all on someone else when you couldve very easily fixed it by TALKING about it. instead you let it build up and express it by sudden outbursts and fucking her boyfriend. and yeah, jackie ignored shauna, probably brushed her off so many times, assumed shauna wanted to do all of stuff she wanted to do, but you know what shauna did? NOTHING! she said absolutely nothing about it and let it happen. she needs someone to blame besides herself after all. and then the two fight and shauna's over here going "tragic, boring, insecure, peaked in high school" (aka PROJECTING!) and jackie quotes a fucking movie. not because she cant come up with an original insult about someone, but because she cant or wont about shauna. because she actually fucking cares about her, even though she didnt act like it sometimes. if shauna wasnt fucking wallowing in self-pity all the fucking time she wouldve seen that (simply in the way jackie looks at her honestly) and she only sees the half of it when jackie FUCKING DIES. you dont know what you have until it's gone, i guess.

(this did not mean to be a whole ass rant it was just supposed to be "happy pride month to jackie taylor i wish you couldve been a proud lesbian")

[linkspooky]

wip wednesday

Updated WIP for my Azulaang fic.

The worst part was that Aang had found her beautiful. Aang was suddenly forced to bear witness to a naked truth. Azula was a girl. Not only was she a girl, she was a beautiful girl.  Until now, he’d believed Azula hard and made of steel like a machine of war with a fire burning inside her. Now he saw her soft flesh.What he'd thought was a blazing inferno that burned everything that touched her was a gentle warmth that permeated her skin. The girl that had always been hiding underneath the fire nation black and red armor. A beautiful girl. 

It was tradition in this household to cleanse one’s body before being let into the spiritual archives. Aang respected tradition, even if spiritualism in the fire nation was different from the air nomads. 

(He also needed a bath, running away from conflict worked up quite a sweat). Step by step, he followed the little footpath of smooth, colorful pebbles under the luxuriant canopy of flowering wisteria blossoms until he found the entrance to the bath. Inside the changing room a low shelf carved from the bluestone had been placed to hold the bather’s clothes. In his eagerness to get into the water on a cold winter day (by fire nation standards) he failed to notice two other tubs packed with clothing sitting on the shelf. Aang took off his clothing, it was easy to get undressed with the simple way airbenders dressed. Imagine how many layers Zuko had to take off to bathe, especially with those huge shoulde roads.  He left his clothes in a wooden washtub, and after lifting the thin hemp curtain with one hand strode inside. 

Stream drifted through the air, it gently unfurled out from the pool, drifting slowly, filling every corner and crevice blurring his vision.  With that and the dim moonlight it was difficult to see more than a few shuka in front of you. It gave the baths a spiritual aura, like he’d stepped in the river that separated this world from the far shore.Flowers bloomed along the borders of the pool, their shed petals floated on the surface, and there was a small waterfall at the end of the pond for rinsing. 

It was pleasantly warm. Aang couldn't help the soft sigh of content that escaped him. He felt like a kid again bathing in the air temple hot springs with the other children. He let loose for a moment, extending his slender limbs and swimming all the way to the waterfall with a splash. 

Just as he rose from the water and wiped his face, he noticed someone was already showering in the surging waterfall with their back turned.

Lio. Aang should have known better to watch Lio from someplace unseen like a total stalker creep weirdo, but he stopped to watch their back as if possessed by some kind of spell. 

Their back was held tall and straight, the contours sharp and defined. But with the stars illuminating the steam Aang could make out countless scars, burn scars, and what looked to be whip marks on the center of their back. A body full of wounds. A body full of scars. So many it was impossible to find a piece of untouched flesh. 

There was no need to mention how much those wounds should hurt. 

Water fell down from above almost as if to cool off those burns, cascading over their body, rivulets gathering into a stream down the wide expanse of their back, down the valleys and peaks of their intricately carved muscles and finally into the divet between their buttocks. The water seemed infatuated with their body, clinging to them in a light stream that was loath to part. 

Lio’s head turned halfway to meet Aang’s gaze, just as Aang jerked his head up to preserve some of Lio’s dignity, “Hey, Aangie have you come to do some naked male bonding?”

“My best features are my back and my butt? What do you think, Aangie?”

Lio said , strode out from under the waterfall and pressed his hands on the rock wall blocking everything behind his massive back from view. 

That back took up Aang’s entire view. Their hair had grown out and fell in black, wild tangles just past their shoulder. Those shoulder blades slid down the small of their back. Aang’s esys followed the downward curve of their spine, their full and firm buttocks, and eyes ficxed on those fair plump curves for a moment because his head jerked up again. . “I think you are uh, very attractive, and you are connvingly using your attractiveness to try to distract me from asking about how you got that scar on your back.”

“Oh, I was a naughty boy and I was whipped before I was banished. It’s nothing… compared to the trouble I caused Li and my family back then it was absolutely nothing.” .” 

“Your pain isn’t nothing.” “Haha, what pretty words. Did the airbenders teach you to talk that way, or are you just that cheesy naturally?” Lio noticed Aang’s wince at the mention of the airbenders, “I’m sorry, Aangie, baby. I’m a bad, rude man. I just don’t like you looking at me like I’m some poor dying animal you found on the side of the road.” 

Lio’ s shoulder’s rose and fell, as they heaved a sigh. They weren’t some broken thing, it was easy to see the lean strength in those lines. Those shoulder blades were strong and massive, moving beneath the scarred skin. 

At that moment all Aang could think of was how adult Lio looked, even though they were only two years older. It wasn’t just the enormous height, it was the comfort they displayed wearing their own body, it was enough to make Aang feel like a fucking child in comparison. 

Graceful Lio suddenly gracelessly lost their balance and fell a step back from the wall. Lio quickly turned around, still hiding something behind their back, “I’m sorry Aangie, can we continue this conversation later? I thought we could bond in our nakedness, but human relationships aren’t so simple.”

Aang caught sight of it then, a smaller, curvier figure trying to slip away into the steam just then. Oh. Li mentioned Lio wanted to get married. Aang walked in on both of them in the bath. Mix gender bathing was normal in the fire nation, he told himself. Completely normal.

He caught sight of a feminine figure through the steam turning to leave. He didn’t initially recognize her - because under normal circumstances, that girl would never do something as ungraceful as stumbling and falling face first into the pool, sending a spray of water into the air. 

“Lazuli, watch your step.” One hand around Azula’s arm, Lio supported her from behind. The difference in their heights was such that their breath puffed against Azula’s ear as they lowered their head to speak, “If you’re not careful you might just fall for me.” 

“Cough, cough.” Azula inadvertently swallowed a mouthful of water in her panic. Swallowing bathwater she became indignant and disgusted discarding all appearance of calm composure, scrambling and flailing as she tried to find her footing.

Aang saw Azula, it was the closest he’d ever seen her, she looked quite different than when she had appeared on the opposite side of a battlefield. Aang saw Azula, but his brain refused to process the image. He wanted to ask what she was doing here, but it got stuck in his throat. He suddenly felt pathetic and spineless. Silence only continued to fan the flames of the situation. 

Aula naked and exposed. When people shed their clothes and exposed themselves they usually exposed their inner ugliness, but Azula was different.

He couldn’t look away. Even though his brain registered she was naked. When people shed their clothes and exposed themselves they usually exposed their inner ugliness, but Azula was different. The horrfiyng part, of this situation wasn’t that he’d humiliated Azula completely by accident. No, the true horror had been something that should not have even been possible. Something that would make a clown like Lio laugh.  The unsettling horror of it all was that Aang had found her beautiful.

Aang was suddenly forced to bear witness to a naked truth. Azula was a girl. Not only was she a girl, she was a beautiful girl. 

Until now, he’d believed Azula hard and made of steel like a machine of war with a fire burning inside her. Now he saw her soft flesh. The girl that had always been hiding underneath the fire nation army. 

A beautiful girl. It wasn’t something as perverted as being attracted to her naked body, it was just seeing the naked truth finally in front of his eyes, that Azula was a girl not yet fully mature barely older than him. Though it was sacreligious to compare her to Katara, it was like the first time he woke up to Katara’s face. It was different from Katara though, because she was lacking many of the qualities one would typically ascribe to ‘beauty’. 

When she was fourteen years old she was certainly eye catching in a dangerous way. Now she’d lost a lot of her ‘beauty’ from when she was fourteen. He wouldn’t call her skin pale in a way that evoked purity, or compare it to porcelain, she looked almost physically ill. She wasn’t thin, or lithe, but emaciated. There were dark rings that eclipsed her sun-colored eyes. She was like a plucked flower withering away within a bell jar, and yet, there was something about her. Something so… 

“Why are you staring, avatar? Have you not gone any farther than hand holding with your little water tribe girlfriend?” Something so…“...Beautiful.” 

He should not have said it. He should not have acknowledged that feeling. These were feelings he wasn’t supposed to have because Azula was… well, Azula. 

“What is it…? Speak clearly, don’t mumble, and look into the eyes of the person you’re talking to.” “Err… beautiful…” “Is your mouth broken? Oh no, I believe I broke the avatar. Again.” He confessed again. “I’m staring because you’re beautiful.” “You’re right, I am beautiful. I guess your eyes aren’t broken.” She was… She was definitely still Azula. Whatever had happened in the three months since he last saw her hadn’t changed her fundamental “Azula-Ness.” Then his sight of Azula was cut off as Lio pulled Azula close to them, stepping in front of her to obscure most of Aang’s view. 

Aang had several questions, but the first one that jumped to mind when he saw the two of them acting so close was, “Why are you bathing with Lio?”

“Mixed bathing is normal, and besides I’d never stare at a girl to make her uncomfortable. I’m a beautiful girl myself, and you don’t know how many creeps have stared at me, ” Lio said. 

That’s right, mixed bathing was normal in fire nation culture Aang reminded himself for the thousandth time. 

Bathing under the stars. Girls and boys together. No tension there whatsoever. Nope, not at all. 

Azula looked at Aang, “There’s nothing untoward about bathing with my betrothed.” “...Your betrothed.” “Yes.” “You’re getting married?” “Yes.” “To who?” “To Lio.” “You’re getting married to Lio.” “Can you not hear me? I thought those big ears of yours would at least be good for listening.” 

“Are my ears too big? Why didn’t anyone tell me? Were they just trying to be nice?” He was suddenly, very self conscious about the size of his ears but that was besides the point. “Why are you getting married to Lio?” “I fail to see how it’s any business of yours.” That’s right it wasn’t any business of his. 

So, why did he care? 

[solelifauna]

So this NOT to imply the writing is bad

But so far the Batfam fic as me genuinely shaking in anger , the fact that dick is convinced that y/n as to prove herself to be "worthy" genuinely got to me to the point I need a pallete cleanser

Could we please get a small drabble of reader growing close with one of the "outside" batfam members?

Like maybe Kate(batwoman) and Luke (batwing) because they are under used

Or hell, maybe to really grind the family gears, reader gets close to azrael

(you know Bruce would've able to do shit if reader got close with Kate, she would fucking eat him alive)

Hey, You're all good bro! I also just want to put out that my fic is based on an au! The portrayals of any characters in my fic are based off of their canon and fanon counterparts, just with my own twist. Since this is a darker universe/au, the Bats along with other heroes are going to be a lot more brutal and jaded.

Also love your idea bro. But, I'll do you one better. Constantine. Bruce absolutely can't stand him and the reader being friends with/getting along with him? Oh, that's bound to grind Bruce's gears. It would also be easier to meet Constantine too.

Let's just say one day the reader gets caught up in some Justice League Dark stuff that Constantine is trying to solve. She gets kidnapped by a cult that wants to use her as a sacrifice. I mean, she is a pretty huge target, being the daughter of a Billionaire after all. Anyways, shes kidnapped, nobody is coming to get her, not from her family at least. Long story short, Constantine arrives too late to stop the ritual, but things don't go according to plan for the cultists anyway. Turns out that the person sacrificed wouldn't be killed, but would instead become a vessel.

Great, now you have some old, eldrich being living rent-free in your mind. The being is old, donning the title "Keeper of Hell", but you'll just call it (they? him? her?), Adam. Yeah, Adam wasn't too happy with the name. When Constantine arrives, however, hes pleasantly surprised to find you alive. When he realizes that you, a 15-year-old, now carry the presence and power of an eldritch being older than Gotham itself, he groans while lighting up a cigarette. Looks like he'd have to deal with you now.

He checks over you making sure you have no internal and external injuries before explaining your situation. He feels a little sorry for you, but he is in no condition to train you. He asks around to other JL dark members, hoping to see if anyone is willing to help you control your new powers. He sighs again when nobody steps up to the plate, too busy with their own sidekicks and quests.

Reluctantly, he tells you he'd help you figure stuff out. And there begins the blossoming of the amazing "Grumpy old man and kid they didn't ask for" troupe. When you tell Constantine your name, he blanks, because of course he gets stuck with one of the bat's kids. However, based on your tone of voice when discussing your family (and the way you begged him not to let Bruce/Batman know of your predicament), he's guessing things aren't all too great between you all. Well, thats not his problem, his only job was to train you and make sure you don't end up accidentally killing someone.

Yeah...like that thought process is going to last. Training sessions start out bleak and professional, he's only doing a job. Then as time continues, he finds himself enjoying your company, your enthusiasm to learn and your rambunctious/sarcastic comebacks always have him fighting off a smile. It's been a while since he's had company like this. Soon, you're both going out on missions, and then ice cream breaks afterward. He lets you fall asleep on his shoulder, drooling all over his trench coat after particularly difficult missions and he can't bring himself to mind.

He's fond of you, although he never admits it out loud. It's okay though, because even though he's never said it out loud, his actions speak louder than words. You could feel his love and pride for you. Although he wasn't exactly your dad per se, he was still something to you, maybe the wine uncle? You don't know, and you don't particularly care to put a label on what Constantine was to you, you're just glad that he's there.

Shit hits the fan, however, when one day you decide to go on a solo mission. It's nothing crazy, just getting rid of some poltergeists and low-level demons and shades. Now, were you given permission to go on this mission alone? No, but in a normal teenage manner, you decide to go anyway. Everything was fine, you got rid of all the poltergeists in the area and even some of the shades too! It's all going well until you realize that the demon mentioned before was not as weak as you were told. You gulped when its blood red eyes turned to you.

"Well shit." Constantine was going to kill you.

It immediately lunges at you, you barely rolling out of its sharp claws. You hit it with a couple of spells, causing the demon to roar out in pain, burn marks now littering its side. Its tail whips at you, colliding with your stomach as you fly into a wall with a loud thud. You groan as you pick yourself up, clutching your ribs, each breath a jagged pain that ripples through your chest. Your arm is slick with blood, the gashes from the demon's claws burning as if its very essence were trying to sear your flesh. You grit your teeth and weave another spell, calling on Adam’s power to knock the demon back. This time, a burst of raw energy slams into it, shattering its leg with a sickening crack.

For a brief moment, you think it's over, ready to strike the final blow. But the demon’s leg snaps back into place, bone and flesh knitting together as if the injury had never happened.

“Of course,” you mutter under your breath. “Why would this be easy?”

The demon lunges again, and you’re just a split second too slow. Burning pain flares through your right arm as its claws tear into you, ripping through your flesh like paper. You scream, the sound involuntary, but you push through the pain, refusing to go down without a fight.

Drawing back, you unleash another spell, a sharp projectile of energy aimed at its neck. The demon flinches, letting out a low growl. That reaction—panic—gives you the first glimmer of hope. Its neck. That's its weak spot.

With renewed determination, you gather every ounce of strength you have left. The cuts across your body throb, and your arm feels like it’s on fire, but you push it all aside. You can do this. You have to do this.

You unleash a volley of cutting spells, each one aimed at the demon’s throat. It fights back viciously, throwing you around the room with a strength that makes your vision blur. Every hit you take feels like your bones are splintering, but you keep going. You keep attacking.

Finally, one of your spells strikes true.

The demon lets out a gurgling screech as your spell cuts deep into its neck. Blood—thick and dark—pours from the wound, and it claws at its own throat, choking. Its body spasms violently, and then, as if collapsing in on itself, it begins to disintegrate. In a few seconds, all that’s left is dust.

You stand there, panting, barely able to process the fact that you did it. You won. A grin spreads across your face, and despite the pain radiating from every part of your body, you let out a weak cheer.

But the celebration is short-lived.

Pain cuts through you like a knife, sharp and sudden, reminding you of just how battered you are. Blood is still oozing from the various gashes across your body, and your arm feels like it’s hanging by a thread. You stumble, nearly falling, but catch yourself at the last second.

“Crap… I’m bleeding out,” you mumble, wincing. “Whoops.”

With what little energy you have left, you remember the spell Constantine taught you, the one that would tether you to him no matter where you were. He warned you not to use it unless it was an emergency—and bleeding out from demon-inflicted wounds definitely qualifies.

You lift your shaking hand and cast the spell, a sluggish flick of your wrist sending out a ripple of energy. A portal forms, shimmering and unstable, but functional enough. Without much grace, you stumble through it, disappearing from the demon’s lair.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Constantine was currently in a Justice League meeting.

The first thing you feel is a sudden drop, like the ground beneath you has vanished. You barely register the sensation of falling before you crash, hard, onto something solid. Groaning, you blink through the haze of pain and find yourself sprawled across a massive table.

You can hear voices—muffled, alarmed—but the world is spinning too much for you to focus. All you know is that you're lying on something cold and hard, and you’re absolutely drenched in blood.

Forcing your eyes open, you see several figures standing around you, staring in shock. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out Superman’s cape and Wonder Woman’s armor. You try to process what's happening, but the pain in your arm and ribs keeps pulling you under.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. Fuckkkk." You cry out.

Suddenly, the scent of smoke fills the air. You don't even have to look to know who it is. Constantine’s familiar trench coat brushes against your arm as he crouches beside you, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. His eyes flicker with a dangerous mix of exasperation and barely concealed anger.

“What in the bloody fuck, kid?” he snaps, his tone harsher than usual, but the concern underlies his words.

You wince, the situation hitting you all at once. Crap. Now I've got to deal with this.

You muster a weak, sheepish grin, wincing as you turn your head to face him. “Heyyy Constantine, how are ya?”

His brow furrows deeper, and he’s clearly not amused. “What did you do?”

You swallow hard, trying to think of how to explain yourself without getting ripped to shreds—verbally or otherwise. “I—well, promise you won’t get mad?”

“Too late for that, kid. I’m already halfway there,” he growls, his eyes narrowing as he looks over your wounds. “Now get to it.”

You bite your lip, trying to find the least disastrous way to explain. “So… I sorta… mighta… gone on a solo demon-hunting mission,” you blurt out quickly, hoping he’d just move past it.

The way Constantine’s eyes widen, and the immediate twitch in his jaw tell you that he’s definitely not going to move past it.

“You did what?!” His voice rises as he stands up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh bloody— I thought I specifically told you not to go by yourself! And this is what happens!”

“Hey, well, I’m alive, aren’t I?” you say, grinning nervously, trying to play it off.

“That’s besides the point!” He throws his arms up, pacing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Bloody hell, I should’ve known better with you kids. I swear, this is why I never—”

Just then, a dark, grim voice cuts through the chaos, and your heart nearly stops.

“Constantine,” Batman’s tone is low, authoritative. “Why is my daughter bleeding on our table?”

Oh no. No, no, no. Not now.

You freeze, your mind going blank as you feel the weight of Batman’s presence at the end of the table. You slowly, painfully turn your head to see him standing there, cape draped over his shoulders, his gaze icy and locked onto you. His usual stoic expression somehow looks even more intense.

“Ah… shit,” you mutter under your breath, groaning inwardly as you realize you’ve just landed yourself in the absolute worst situation imaginable. “I completely forgot he was still here.” Wait, did you say that out loud?

Constantine gives you a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, kid, you did. And now we’ve got more than just your wounds to worry about, don’t we?” He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples, already anticipating the fallout.

Batman’s eyes narrow, arms crossed as he takes a step closer to you, his voice low and dangerous. “Care to explain yourself?”

You’re still bleeding, your head is pounding, and you’re pretty sure at least a few bones are broken, but none of that compares to the fear creeping up your spine as you look up at your father. Your mind races for an answer, but every excuse you can think of feels flimsy at best.

Constantine clears his throat, sensing the rising tension in the room. “Right. Let’s get her fixed up before this turns into an interrogation, yeah? Kid’s bleeding all over the place, and she’s already taken a beating. We’ll save the lecture for later.” He waves his hand, muttering something under his breath as he kneels beside you again.

The tension between Constantine and Batman lingers in the air, thick and heavy, but Batman finally relents. His eyes soften—slightly—as he watches Constantine work to stabilize your injuries with magic.

You can feel yourself growing weaker, the adrenaline finally wearing off as the pain becomes unbearable. Constantine mutters a healing spell, one that slows the bleeding and knits some of the less serious cuts together. It's not perfect, but it’s enough for now.

“I think it’s time to get you all fixed up, huh?” Constantine says softly, his earlier anger tempered by concern as he helps you sit up, his hand firm on your back to support you.

You nod weakly, not daring to meet Batman’s eyes again. You’re in deep trouble, but for now, at least, you’re still breathing. As Constantine gets ready to teleport you to a safer place to heal, you hear Batman’s voice, calm but steely.

“We’re not done here.”

And with that ominous promise hanging in the air, Constantine picks you up, and the world around you shifts once again.

Constantine gently carries you through the halls toward the Justice League’s med bay, muttering curses under his breath with every step. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, and now, in the quiet aftermath of the fight, guilt begins to settle in your chest. The adrenaline from the battle has worn off, and now you're left with the consequences of your reckless actions.

“Hey, Constantine… I—I’m sorry for not listening to you. I really am,” you say, your voice soft and heavy with regret.

He sighs, not looking at you, but his tone is stern. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not mad at you, kid. You didn’t just ignore my warnings—you put yourself in danger. There are rules for a reason. What if you got seriously hurt and couldn’t cast a spell back to me? Even worse, what if you died or got possessed?”

His words hit you hard, and you wither under the weight of them. You know he’s right. All those rules and restrictions aren’t just him being overprotective or controlling, they’re because he cares. He’s seen the kind of darkness that can swallow people whole, and the thought of that happening to you terrifies him, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

By the time you reach the med bay, the guilt feels like it’s pressing down on you as much as the pain in your ribs. Constantine lowers you onto a cot, tucking you in with a gruff gentleness that only he could pull off. He sits down on the side of the bed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick of his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What I’m trying to say, kid,” he starts, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “is that I care. I care about you, I care about what happens to you. I don’t want—” He pauses, his voice softening. “I don’t want to ever have to find your body one day. So please, from now on, let me know before you do something stupid like this.”

His words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered. You nod, trying to process it all, and then something clicks in your mind. Wait… did he just say let him know?

“Let you know? Does this mean—” Your eyes widen as realization hits you. “Does this mean I can go on solo missions?”

Constantine lets out a resigned sigh. “Yes, yes, you can start going on solo missions—”

“Hell yeah!” you exclaim, sitting up a little too quickly. Pain shoots through your ribs, but you can’t help the excitement bubbling inside you.

“—but, only the ones I sanction and authorize,” Constantine finishes, cutting through your excitement with a stern look. You deflate a little at his words, but it’s still a victory in your book.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, ignoring the sharp pain it causes in your ribs. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I won’t let you down!”

He chuckles, patting your back awkwardly before pulling away. “Yeah, yeah, I know you won’t. Now, lay back down and get some rest. You still have dark and brooding to deal with.” He gestures toward the direction of the meeting room, clearly dreading the inevitable confrontation with Batman. “And by extension, I do too,” he adds with a heavy sigh.

You groan, sinking back into the cot, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. “I don’t know why he even cares. If he did, he would’ve figured this out ages ago.”

Constantine glances at you, his expression softening for a moment. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “He cares, kid. He just… doesn’t always show it the way you want him to. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it.”

You scoff, though part of you knows he’s right. “Yeah, well, doesn’t feel like it.”

Constantine stands, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it into a nearby ashtray. “Doesn’t matter how it feels right now. The Bat’s going to want answers, and if I know him, he’s going to want to have a very long talk with you. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

You wince at the thought of the upcoming conversation, knowing that Batman’s interrogation will be thorough and far less forgiving than Constantine’s.

“Great,” you mutter, closing your eyes and sinking deeper into the cot. “Just what I need.”

Constantine gives you a small, almost affectionate smile before turning to leave. “Get some rest, kid. You’ve earned it. I’ll deal with the big bad Bat for now.”

And with that, he walks out, leaving you alone in the med bay. As much as you’re dreading what’s to come, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the pain and the mistakes you made, you know that Constantine’s got your back. And, maybe, just maybe, Batman does too, even if it’s buried under a mountain of brooding and silence.

For now, though, you let the exhaustion pull you under, trusting that everything else can wait until tomorrow.

-

As you rest, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion, your breathing evens out and your mind drifts into sleep. The med bay is quiet, sterile, but the tension in the air lingers, waiting for the inevitable. Eventually, a dark, caped figure glides into the room silently, his form casting long shadows across the walls.

Batman—no, Bruce—stands over you, his sharp eyes tracing every bruise, every cut that mars your face. His jaw clenches as a million thoughts swirl in his head, none of them offering any comfort.

What the hell happened to you? Why are you and Constantine so close? How did you even know Constantine? How much had he missed—how little attention had he been paying—to not notice any of this?

Bruce sighs, a deep and frustrated sound. He removes his cowl, setting it on the side table with a weary hand. Without it, he seems less intimidating, less imposing. He stares down at you, seeing the cuts and bruises marking your skin, but what hits him harder is the way your face, in sleep, is still so achingly young. You're his daughter, and yet it feels like you're a stranger to him now.

How did you get so far away?

He knows the answer. The fault lies with him, with the choices he made, the excuses he repeated to himself—telling himself he was too busy, telling himself he would check in later. Later never came, though, and the space between you widened, until it wasn't just him you were drifting away from, but your brothers too.

Bruce noticed the way your brothers treated you, the harsh words, the cold shoulders. He saw the distance, but he justified it, telling himself it was sibling rivalry or something that would pass. He didn't step in. And now, as he looks at you lying there, bruised and battered from a fight he wasn’t even aware of, the reality sinks in: he has no excuse.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce reaches out, his rough but careful hand carding gently through your hair. The gesture is tender, hesitant, as if he's not sure whether he has the right to touch you like this anymore. But as his fingers comb through your hair, you stir in your sleep, a quiet murmur escaping your lips as you unconsciously lean into his touch. It's such a sweet, innocent moment, and for a brief second, Bruce allows himself to feel the warmth of it.

But the moment is fleeting.

He feels the presence before he sees it, the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke filling the room. His jaw tightens as his hand stills. He doesn’t turn right away, but his voice cuts through the silence.

“Constantine,” Bruce says, his tone gruff even without the cowl to disguise it.

Constantine steps into the room more fully, leaning against the wall, a half-smoked cigarette between his lips. He regards Bruce with that same nonchalance he carries everywhere, though there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something more cautious.

"Thought you’d still be brooding over in the corner," Constantine says, taking a drag of his cigarette. His eyes drift to you, lying peacefully on the cot. “Didn’t expect to see this version of you.”

Bruce doesn’t respond right away. He pulls his hand back from your hair, his gaze hardening. "What happened?" The question is direct, but underneath it, Constantine can hear the concern, the frustration Bruce doesn't voice aloud.

"She went off on her own," Constantine mutters, taking another drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Went after a demon. Got roughed up pretty bad, but she handled it in the end. Strong kid. Stubborn too. Wonder where she gets that from, eh?"

Bruce's eyes narrow. "And you let her?"

"Let her?" Constantine laughs, a short, sharp sound. "Mate, I didn’t let her. She went behind my back, just like she’s gone behind yours for who knows how long. Difference is, I’m the one she actually came back to.”

That lands like a punch to Bruce's gut. He doesn’t react visibly, but Constantine can see the tension in his posture.

"I didn't know she was…" Bruce starts, then stops, shaking his head. The words feel inadequate. "I didn't know she was involved with this stuff, i didn't even know she was a meta. Or that she knew you."

"Yeah, well, she found her way to me," Constantine says with a shrug, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall. “And she's not a meta by the way, she's a vessel for some eldritch being"

A vague expression of surprise appears on Bruce's face.

"I don't blame you, mate. I was surprised to find her alive afterwards. Not just anyone survives that kind of transformation, she's strong.”

Bruce crosses his arms, his gaze flickering between you and Constantine. “I know she’s strong.”

“Do you?” Constantine raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his tone. “Because she’s been running herself ragged trying to prove it. To you. To herself. And, hell, maybe to me too, but at least I see it.”

There’s silence for a moment. Bruce clenches his jaw, turning to look at you again, sleeping soundly despite the tension in the room. He knew Constantine was right. You'd been pushing yourself, fighting to show that you didn’t need them—that you were strong enough on your own. And he had let you. He'd let you because he didn't even care to notice.

Constantine sighs, sensing the weight of the silence. “Look, I didn’t come here to throw stones. But you’ve got to get your shit together with her. She’s tough, but she’s still a kid, and she’s your kid. She needs you.”

Bruce doesn’t answer, but his silence speaks volumes. He watches you, the soft rise and fall of your chest, and feels the regret gnawing at him.

“I’ll handle it,” Bruce finally says, though the words feel hollow.

Constantine gives him a long look, then nods. “You better. Because if you don’t, she’ll be right back with me..”

With that, Constantine pushes off the wall, flicking away the last of his cigarette. “I’ll check in on her later. Try not to fuck this up, mate.” And with one last glance at you, Constantine leaves, the tension in the room ebbing with him.

Bruce remains, standing over you, his mind a whirlwind of regret, guilt, and the desire to fix what’s been broken for far too long. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead—something he hasn’t done in what feels like years—before stepping back, pulling the chair beside your bed to sit vigil over you.

He’s still not sure how to bridge the gap, but for now, he stays. It’s a start.

Well, thats all folks! I really enjoyed writing this au, so thanks for the idea! Maybe ill even make a pt. 2 to this? Who knows? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it.

[punkitt-is-here]

Had to write a three-page screenplay script for a "Discovery" for class. Didn't have any further instructions. It's super off-the-cuff, but I wanted to share it. Happy pride <3

INT. COLLEGE DORM - NIGHT.

A college student sits at his desk, sketching. It's a one room apartment, and his roommate is sound asleep. He's sketching in the light of a single lamp, being quiet. The student, GABE (male, 19) is drawing a cartoon version of himself. He's studying outfits from a fashion catalogue, drawing himself in different ones. He bites the tip of his pencil, not feeling the piece he's working on. He rolls his chair back, reeling away from the desk. Gabe puts his hands in his hair, leaning back and looking at the ceiling. He lets out a long exhale. It's late.

After a moment, he rolls back to the desk. Tapping the pencil to his head, he flips through the pages. It's an unremarkable task, stopping on a random page. Oh, the women's fashion section. It has simple, practical outfits for girls, including a jean skirt. Gabe peers at it. Fuck it, it's late. He erases the pants of one of his drawings and pencils in a skirt instead.

He pauses.

He stares at it.

Something here is weird.

He goes to erase it, but once he does, he just draws it in again. This time with more care. More detail. He stares at it again.

Tears well up in his eyes.

GABE

(whispering)

…what the fuck?

Gabe, confused, touches his hand to his eye. He looks at the tear on his finger. Huh? He stares at the drawing again. He looks back at his roommate, sound asleep. He's having some sort of moment, but he has to be quiet. He frantically looks back at his sketchbook.

GABE

(whispering)

Uh…

A beat.

Gabe starts drawing himself again. In the women's fashion this time. It's like a whole different world. He's drawing like crazy. It's all flowing out of him. He draws another.

And another. Slowly, details start to adjust in his art.

Longer hair. Longer eyelashes. Daintier poses. More smiles.

He's got tears running down his face, but he's not wearing any emotion. He's not sure what to think.

CUT TO

An indeterminate amount of time later. Gabe stares at his notebook. It's full. It's lots of drawings of him.

As…well, he guesses as a girl. But he's not one. He flips through the book again, then turns towards the dark window his desk resides next to. He looks at himself. Patchy facial hair and a shaggy haircut.

CUT TO

INT. DORM HALLWAY - NIGHT

Gabe rushes down the hallway, looking frantic. He's carrying a bag.

INT. DORM BATHROOM - NIGHT

It's quiet inside the bathroom. No one else occupies the space. It's just him and his reflection. His reflection? Maybe their reflection. Her reflection? No, that's not right. Is it right? Gabe stares at himself intently. The whirring of a trimmer cuts through the silence. He brings it up to his facial hair, shearing away a week's worth of fuzz.

He looks at himself like it's not him in the mirror. He holds a hand up to his face, feeling it.

It's not enough. Not yet. He has to know.

He gets out his phone and starts typing.

HOW TO SHAVE FACIAL HAIR OFHG

He frantically types, misspelling. He backspaces like his life depends on it.

HOW TO SHAVE FACIAL HAIR OFF ALL

THE WAY

He quickly scans an article and then gets to work, pulling some miscellaneous bathroom supplies out of his bag. Shaving cream. A razor. Gifts for cleaning up at college. He wets his face. Applies the shaving cream. Does careful strokes down his cheeks and neck. Slowly, someone reveals themselves.

They lean down, splashing themselves with water. They look up, and it's a different person. She's completely shaved her facial hair off. Gabe hasn't seen herself like this since she was in freshman year of high school, before facial hair was even an option. She reaches up and touches her face, smooth to the touch. She stares, enamored. A moment. She grabs a towel and dries her face off, and then looks again. She's so…different. But that's her! That's Gabe! Is it Gabe? She doesn't know anymore. A close up to her eyes. Her nose. Her lips. Her neck. It's all so new. She starts laughing. She laughs, and tears well up in her eyes a little. She laughs some more. In moments, she's full on crying tears of joy. She doesn't know why. But she is! That's her!

CUT TO

INT. SECONDHAND - DAY

Gabe is at a clothing rack, searching for something. She looks around, a little embarrassed. She browses for a moment before finding what she wants. She passes by some more racks carefully, trying not to be too obvious. She slips into the changing room, then locks the door.

GABE

…okay.

Gabe unbuckles her belt. In a moment, she's wearing black leggings. She hikes them up, then unclips a gaudy skirt from the clothes-hanger. She stares at it, a little scared of it and what it represents. She bites her lip. She stretches it out and then steps in. She looks up at the mirror.

Oh shit, that's her! That's her!

Gabe is wearing a long, patterned skirt and a tee-shirt. The colors don't match at all, and the patterns don't either.

She looks a bit like a yard sale of a person. But it's her!

She spins around, watching the fabric flow out from her hips in a whirlwind of stripes and insignia. She laughs again.

This is her! This is her!

This is her!

[fireinmoonshot]

gold rush | joaquín torres x fem!reader

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: When Joaquín gets recognised for the first time, you find yourself unable to ignore your feelings of jealousy. Joaquín sets out to prove you have no reason to be jealous. Warnings: It's a little suggestive at parts and the reader has thoughts of not being good enough and briefly compares herself to other women in terms of looks. Word Count: 2.9k A/N: I am so terrible at writing spicy/suggestive scenes so I hope this isn't too bad and you guys still enjoy it 😅 I loved this idea when I came up with it and it was so enjoyable to write. I love domestic Joaquín! Title comes from Gold Rush by Taylor cause it came on shuffle as I was writing it and I realised some of the lyrics fit the storyline 💗

“Joaquin, let me–”

“No.”

“Seriously, you’re carrying like six heavy bags. I have two hands. Just let me carry–”

“No.”

“Fine, let me carry one then!”

“No.”

You groan and cross your arms over your chest, giving your boyfriend a pretty impressive side-eye as you walk beside him, heading back to your car after doing the weekly grocery shopping. No matter how many times you went grocery shopping with Joaquin, it always ended the same way – with him carrying all the bags and refusing to let you carry any.

He was fairly similar when it came to getting the actual groceries in the store. He pushed the cart and held the shopping list. He told you what you needed and you got it and put it into the cart – and he sneakily added in a few things here and there that you never noticed until it came time to go through the checkout. 

“Joaquin, baby… just one bag,” you attempt to convince him again, already knowing that it’s not going to work. Joaquin can be incredibly stubborn when he wants to be.

He shakes his head. “I’m so strong that these bags feel so light it’s like I’m holding feathers, angel,” he glances at you. “Besides, I can see our car from here. We’re almost there.”

You sigh, giving up on attempting to help, and start to search for the car key in your bag. By the time you get to your car, you still haven’t found it but Joaquin doesn’t mind, standing by the side of the car until you do so he can put the groceries in the trunk – he won’t even let you do that, insisting on carrying them all the way to the car, into it and then from the car into your kitchen. 

You’re so invested in trying to find the key, likely right at the very bottom of the bag, that you don’t notice the group of girls getting out of the car parked opposite yours. You don’t notice the way they all gasp at the sight of your boyfriend or the way they all push one girl in particular to walk over towards your car. It’s only when you hear her speak that you look up, your car key finally in your hand.

“Hey… sorry to bother you, but you look so much like the new Falcon… Joaquin, right?” The girl asks, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. She has to be fairly young, in her early twenties at most, you’d guess.

Joaquin grins, glancing between you and the girl. He’s never been recognised in person before, not since he officially became the Falcon and people found out who he is. “Yeah, that’s me, actually, no joke,” he laughs, bending down to put the groceries on the ground next to the car and stepping closer to the girl.

From your spot, standing behind your car near the trunk, you can’t ignore the feeling that settles in the pit of your stomach. You swallow, hating how it feels. This is exciting for him – the first time he’s been recognised – but Joaquin never puts the groceries down for anything or anyone, and yet he’s doing it for this girl.

“No way!” The girl gasps, putting a hand to her mouth. “Oh my god, you’re so good looking in real life – and on TV too, of course. Could I get your autograph?”

Joaquin clearly enjoys the compliment – he knows he’s not too terrible looking and he takes pride in that. “Yeah, of course. Do you have a pen and paper though? I, uh, I’m not quite at the stage of fame where I carry them around yet, y’know?” He chuckles.

You’re holding your car key so tightly in your hand that it starts to dig into your palm and it’s only at the first touch of pain that you realise, unclenching your fist. This is fine. Nothing wrong is happening here. You are not feeling jealous. What even is there to feel jealous about? Just… this gorgeous young girl fawning over your boyfriend… and your boyfriend clearly enjoying the attention.

She reaches into her purse and pulls out a small notebook and a pen – clearly something that she carries around with her, despite her lack of fame. Joaquin takes them in his hands, signing an autograph that he’s been practicing for months, and hands them back to her, still grinning from ear to ear.

“Did you want a picture, too? Your friends can be in it as well,” he says, waving to the other girls waiting by the car. They all squeal in joy, obviously taking that as a sign to come over, and come running over to Joaquin and their friend. 

“Oh my god, this is a dream come true. We’re meeting an Avenger!” One of them says excitedly. 

Joaquin takes the phone of one of the girls in his hands and turns around, putting his back to the girls as they all smile and pose for the photo. He snaps a couple of pictures before handing it back to them. “You have a good rest of your day, all right, ladies? I gotta go, I’ve kept my girl waiting long enough,” he says.

You watch as the girls all head off, talking and making noises of pure excitement as they head towards the shopping centre you’d just exited. Joaquin stands in the same spot, running a hand through his hair, the smile on his face unshakeable. 

“How cool was that, angel?” He says, finally picking the shopping bags up again.

You clear your throat and press the button to unlock the car as well as the button to open the trunk. “That was pretty exciting for you,” you manage, stepping back so Joaquin can put the six bags of groceries in there. When he’s done, you hand him the key and walk around to the passenger side. Joaquin always insists on driving you.

Joaquin closes the trunk and heads around to the drivers side, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at your reaction. You hadn’t sounded nearly as excited as he’d expected you to. He closes the door behind him and does his seatbelt up before turning to you.

“Everything all right, angel?” He asks.

He watches as you fiddle with the sleeve of your cardigan – a sure fire way to know that everything is not, in fact, all right. But then you do the thing he hates and brush him off.

“Yeah, it’s all good. Just a little overwhelmed by shopping. Can we head home?” You ask, barely even looking at him when you speak. You’re too busy trying to sort out the million feelings in your head. Jealousy, insecurity, a hundred others you can’t pinpoint.

Joaquin stares at you for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, of course, angel.”

The car ride home is quiet except for the music he puts on and the sound of the car on the road. His hand rests on your thigh, like it always does when he’s driving – a habit he started not long after he started dating you. You look out the window the entire time, head leant against the head rest behind you.

Why were you jealous of what had happened back at the parking lot? You had nothing to be jealous of, not really. Joaquin has always been friendly with other people and it just so happens that the first time he gets recognised is by a bunch of young, beautiful women? You don’t think you’re not attractive, but compared to them? Well… you can’t help but compare yourself even when you know that you shouldn’t. And he’d clearly loved how excited they were to meet the Falcon – but you and Joaquin had started dating before he even met Sam and the Avengers. 

You were always so proud of him becoming Falcon and you could see how much it meant to him, but you never fawned over him the way those girls had. You never thought about his fame and status in the same way those girls clearly did.

For the first time in your entire relationship, the fact that he’s the Falcon starts to scare you a little. He’s practically an Avenger, is best friends with the Captain America and is so recognisable now that people can recognise him on the street.

By the time you get home, the thoughts in your head have multiplied tenfold. Joaquin can feel the emotions coming off of you in waves, even though you have no clue that you’re even being that obvious.

He carries the groceries into the house but you’re already inside, leaving the front door open for him. He kicks it shut behind him and hauls the six bags up onto the counter. They can wait, he decides, until after he figures out what’s wrong.

“Angel?” He calls out, poking his head into your bedroom where you’re standing in front of your closet, picking out some clothes to change into that are more comfortable than the ones you’d worn out. “Will you come here a sec?”

You sigh, putting the clothes you’d picked down on the bed and crossing the room towards him. He leans down to take your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. His thumb swipes gently over your skin. 

“What’s going on? You’ve been quiet ever since we got into the car. Was it those girls?”

You shake your head. “It’s nothing, Joaquin. I just got reminded that you’re famous now.”

Joaquin pauses for a second. There’s something that you’re not saying, that you’re purposely holding back. A thought enters his mind. Surely you’re not… no, you can’t be… “Angel, are you jealous?” 

“No!” You’re quick to reply, removing your hands from his and taking a few steps away from him. “I’m not jealous that you’re famous, Joaquin. I’m not jealous at all.”

“I didn’t mean jealous that I’m famous… I meant jealous about those girls.”

Your eyes flash up at him and he immediately knows he’s hit the nail on the head. You’re jealous… he was giving those girls attention simply because they knew who he was and he wanted to leave a good impression. He’d never met fans in person before. He would have reacted the same way even if it was a group of 80 year old men. 

“Oh, mi cariño…” He steps towards you, trying to stop his lips from quirking up into a smirk. He can’t remember you ever being jealous when it came to him.

“Don’t,” you shake your head and sit down on the edge of your bed. You don’t even want to make eye contact with him, you’re so embarrassed. “I’m not… I’m not jealous. I just… well, they were gorgeous and young and so excited to meet you, so excited about you being Falcon and I… well, I never gave you that kind of attention and I could see you thrived off of it. But I don’t want to focus on it. I don’t want to ruin your first experience with someone recognising you in public, so let’s just forget this ever happened, okay?”

Joaquin frowns. The last thing he was ever going to do was sweep your feelings under the rug and pretend like they didn’t exist. With a sigh, Joaquin takes the few steps towards you and crouches down on the ground in front of you, taking your hands in his again. “Will you look at me, angel?” He asks softly.

He can sense the hesitation as you slowly raise your eyes to look at him. 

“We will not be forgetting this ever happened because the last thing I want to do is undermine your feelings. I never cared about how excited you were about me becoming the Falcon. I knew you were already excited for me because you signed up to be happy for me with everything I do in life when you said yes when I asked you to be mine,” Joaquin explains, his tone gentle and soft. He stands up, keeping your hands in his. “Come with me?”

You stand up, letting go of one of his hands as he leads you into the bathroom just off of your bedroom. He spins you to turn around and look in the mirror, placing his hands on your shoulders so you have no choice but to stand there and look at yourself and the beautiful, kind, caring man behind you.

“What are you doing?” You question.

“I wanted you to look at yourself when I say these next things,” Joaquin says, giving your shoulders a squeeze. “I didn’t notice if those girls were gorgeous or not when they came up to me. All I noticed was that there were a group of young girls who were a fan of me because I’m basically an Avenger now,” he starts, attempting not to sound as cocky as the words probably come across as. He watches your lips quirk up into a small smile and feels confident that this is going to go well. “And because I had the most gorgeous woman standing waiting for me to hurry up and put the damn groceries in the car.” 

You laugh a little at that and a smile comes to Joaquin’s face at the sound of it.

“You are the most gorgeous woman to me, angel,” he continues. “The way your hair falls around your face,” he says, tucking a strand of it behind your ear. He looks at you for a moment and then abandons his plans of having you look at yourself in the mirror for this.

He spins you around, leaning you up against the bathroom counter as he cups your face in his hands. “The way your eyelashes flutter over your cheeks when you blink,” he leans down and gently brushes his lips over one of your eyes. “The way your lips part when you look at me sometimes,” his lips move to press against the corner of your lips. “The way your smile lights up your whole face,” his thumb brushes over your lips.  “All of the little things that you don’t even think about are the most attractive things to me.”

“Joaquin…” your voice is a little breathless.

“Angel,” he replies, smiling slightly.

You surprise him by reaching up and putting your hand on the back of his neck so you can pull his lips to yours. He immediately reacts to the kiss, his hands falling to your hips and holding you tightly, thumbs pressing into you. You kiss him like you’ve never kissed him before, passionately and messily.

Joaquin almost groans as you nip at his bottom lip, his hand tightening on your hip. He’s unable to stop himself when you do it a second time and he can feel the smile on your lips at the sound. Your kiss consumes him entirely and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When you eventually break apart, you rest your foreheads against each others, breathing heavily. 

“I’m sorry,” you eventually manage to whisper. “I lied. I was jealous.”

Joaquin chuckles. “You should be jealous more often if you’ll kiss me like this.”

You lean in and peck his lips again before pressing your arms to his chest to push him away from you just a little. “Today awakened insecurities in my mind regarding us that I honestly never knew existed, but… you love me and I love you, so I’m going to try not to let them affect me like I did earlier.”

“It’s okay if they do, though,” Joaquin says. “You might be dating an Avenger, but you’re still human.”

“So are you, Joaquin.”

“That’s news to me.”

You roll your eyes at him playfully before properly pushing him away and moving to walk back into your bedroom and get changed into your comfy clothes. You only make it two steps before Joaquin’s hands fall on your hips again and he tugs you back to him. 

He presses a kiss just beneath your ear before spinning you around again and catching your lips with his. You moan at the sudden contact just as he gently pushes you back against the door of the bathroom. It’s not fully open, though, and it hits the wall as your weight presses into it. Neither of you care to break apart to see if it’s done any damage. 

One of his hands weaves into your hair and the other stays resting on your hip as he kisses you, tongue brushing against your bottom lip as you open your mouth to allow him access. The groan you let out only spurs Joaquin on more.

Then, just as quickly as it began, Joaquin pulls away, his eyes wide.

“What is it?” You ask, somehow managing to find your voice.

“We bought ice cream,” he says simply.

“Yes?”

“I didn’t put it in the freezer.” 

You laugh, your forehead falling against his again. He’d ended the kiss because he’d remembered that your ice cream was sitting out on the counter, slowly melting. “Go off and try and save it, pretty boy.”

Joaquin steps back away from you, hating having to remove his hands from your waist and hair. He already misses the taste of your lips and the feeling of them on his. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks before he goes.

“No,” you shake your head. “But give me some time and I will be. Especially if you keep kissing me like I’m the only girl in the world.”

He grins, then steps towards you again and kisses you, swift but passionate. “It’s cause you are the only girl in the world to me, angel,” he admits. “Now, the ice cream…”

[pitchsidestories]

¡vamos! II Laia Codina x Arsenal!Reader

GIF by idontknowwfc

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1528

summary: amid the joy and chaos after the final whistle in Lyon, Laia wasn’t just capturing the moment with her camera—she was capturing your love too. requested

author's note: hi everyone, this video was our inspiration for the fanfic. We can't wait to hear what you think ! 🥰🥰

disclaimer: everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.

Excited, Laia turned the film camera towards herself, her grip steady as she smirked at the lens, promising: “I’m going to film everything. Don’t worry.”

“Who gave you a camera?”, Katie raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-bewildered. The Irish woman hadn’t noticed when one of the staff had handed the Spanish defender the small, portable device.

The atmosphere was electric. Arsenal had done what few believed possible at their chaotic start of the season. Now, as the final whistle pierced the air of the Lyon stadium, the players seated on the elevated bench began to rise, one by one, drawn to the pitch by sheer disbelief and joy.

Laia didn’t so much as blink at Katie’s question. She was already on her feet, swept up in the tide of teammates spilling down the steps.

“¡Vamos!”, she cried, beaming as the spring sun which bathed the pitch in golden light.

“Did she just fucking ignore me?”, Katie shook her head.

Chloe, hearing her, turned with a lifted brow and a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes: “She really does film everything, doesn’t she?”

“She doesn’t even know what she’s filming anymore. Laia’s just carrying that cam like it’s glued to her hand.”, Katie observed.

Up ahead, players surged towards their coach. Renée stood on the touchline, arms wide open, her face lit with pride and wonder. They vaulted the barrier in a blur of movement, laughter spilling out, boots thudding softly against the green grass, tears mingling with shouts of triumph.

“Laia!”, Mariona’s voice rang out, trying to flag her down, remind her, maybe, of what the camera might catch.

But Laia didn’t hear her. She had turned already, her eyes scanning, searching—until they landed on you.

The camera hung loosely now, forgotten at her side. Her whole face lit up, transformed by that unmistakable smile, the kind only meant for you.

You were standing with Alessia and Leah, all three of you suspended in that strange, shimmering moment after victory.

“Hi.”, Laia said, simply.

Mirroring her smile, your cheeks still flushed from the match, you answered softly: “Oh, hey.”

“You were great.”, she whispered into your ear, her voice low, proud.

Your face turned redder, but you smiled wider: “Thank you.”

“Y/n, they want to do a double interview with you and Lessi.”, Renée’s voice cut gently through the moment.

“Coming.”, you assured her, then turned to Laia, ready to say goodbye, but before you could move, she reached for you, tugging you in. Her arms wrapped around you.

And then she kissed you fiercely, without hesitation, like it was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Laia stood there for a second after your lips separated, a huge grin plastered across her face. She just nodded and said, “Okay, cool.”

You winked at her one last time before heading to your interview.

While you mentally prepared what to say, Laia continued across the pitch. joy radiating from her as she made her way to Arsenal’s captain.

“Kimmy!”, she called out, pulling the smaller woman into a tight hug.

Kims eyes widened with surprise. “Did you just kiss her on the mouth while recording?”, she asked, half incredulous, half scolding, as she pointed to the camera still in Laia’s hand.

Laia followed her gaze and flinched: “What? Shit!”

“It’s fine. I’m sure they can cut it out before posting.“, Lotte said calmly as she joined them. Then, with a crooked smirk, she added, “Unless you want to go public with it.”

Laia shrugged: “I guess I’ll have to talk to her about it.”

“You should.”, Kim agreed with a firm nod.

“I will. But first I have to make more videos.”, the defender said, already raising the camera again and heading off to film more celebrations.

Meanwhile, you and Alessia were standing side by side at the interview area. Multiple microphones and a camera were pointed at you both, but you could barely take any of it seriously. You were still exhilarated from the game, the performance and the end result. It all felt like a dream.

So when Alessia was asked how she felt after the game and replied: “Yeah, we’re obviously buzzing.“, you couldn’t hold it together anymore. Her go-to word even made an appearance after such an important game. You had to fight to keep from bursting out laughing, though a little snort still escaped.

Alessia elbowed you in the side: “Y/n, stop laughing.”

“Sorry, Lessi.”, you coughed to cover your smile and trying to compose yourself

Alessia professionally ignored you and continued to reply to the question: “Everyone was just incredibly today.”

“Agreed, it was truly a masterclass from the team on and off the pitch.”, you added, pride clear in your voice.

“It really was.”

Just as the young journalist opened his mouth to ask another question, Katie appeared out of nowhere, grabbing both of you by the arms.

“Time to party!”, she announced as she dragged you off.

The reporter could only watch one as you were swept away and you almost felt bad for him. But celebrating this milestone with your teammates seemed much more important than answering a few more boring questions.

 “Follow us, we’re celebrating.”, you called out as soon as you spotted your girlfriend.

Nervously, Laia cleared her throat and pulled you into a quieter corner. “Amor? Can we talk?”

“Of course.”, you replied, though her sudden seriousness left you puzzled. Where had the cheerful Spaniard gone?

“So... I accidentally filmed our kiss and unfortunately, we look very cute on camera.”, the defender confessed, offering a charmingly shy smile.

It was clearly not the explanation you had expected; a disbelieving laugh escaped your lips: “Wait, you did what?”

“Yes?”, the brunette replied, her chocolate-brown eyes sparkling with amusement.

You both jumped slightly as Daphne’s voice chimed in: “I told you, you two look great on film. I still have those photos from our last day out.”

For a moment, you closed your eyes, recalling the picnic the goalkeeper had mentioned, one of those first warm days in a London park when everything felt lighter, the sun warming the grass beneath you. It had been clear then that you and Laia were in love. The memory brought you a sense of calm.

“What do you think, amor? Should we post Daphne’s pictures of us before the video comes out? No more hiding.”, you proposed your idea.

Your girlfriend agreed: “I think we should.”

On the flight home, night had already fallen, and the lights below twinkled like stars. You settled into your seat beside Laia, who was rewatching the video she’d recorded earlier.

“We have to save this, so our future children can see how cool we were.”, the Spaniard suggested with a grin.

Mariona, seated directly behind you, immediately protested: “You two might have been together longer than Lia and me, but you’re far too young to be thinking about kids!”

Her Swiss girlfriend nodded in agreement, chuckling: “Yes—no baby talk on this flight.”

“Alright, alright, we hear you. Katie, hand us the drink.”, you requested with a mischievous smile, glancing over at the Irish defender.

She shook her head and protectively covered her champagne bottle. “Nope, it’s mine.” “Katie.” “You girls can have it, she’s clearly had enough already.”, Caitlin cut in, smoothly taking the bottle from her girlfriend’s grasp.

“Rude.”, Katie muttered, pouting.

“Gracias.”,  Laia said brightly as you both took a sip of the golden liquid.

Smiling, Mariona raised her own glass:” Cheers, chicas.”

“Cheers,” Laia replied.

Suddenly, you stood up, your voice thick with emotion as you lifted your glass for a toast: “To a day we’ll hopefully never forget.”

“We won’t! This is historic!”, Leah yelled. Earlier, in the post-match huddle, she’d reminded everyone just how special this moment was for Arsenal.

Kim’s eyes glistened once more. She had given nearly seventeen years to the club when the midfielder first arrived, memories of their last European Cup win were still vivid. And now, they’d done it again.

“We made history today.”, she murmured softly.

Beth quickly pulled her into a hug.

“Don’t start crying again.”, she laughed.

“Shut up, Beffy. I’m not crying but you and Leah are.”, the captain protested, pointing at the two players.

Beth didn’t respond, just wiped at her glazed-over eyes.

Katie interrupted, raising her glass solemnly.

“Now it’s my turn. Tonight, we won through the power of friendship and lesbianism!”

It was such a ridiculous toast that the whole team burst into giggles. “You can’t say that!” Kim scolded with a smile. “Yes, I can,” Katie shot back, completely unfazed.

You knew they’d be bickering about this for a while, so you turned to Laia.

Her face was soft and full of love as she watched the other players.

“Our team…”, she whispered.

You smiled at her: “Yeah, I know. I love them too.”

“Yes,” Laia said, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips. “But I love you the most of all of them.”

You smiled against her lips, knowing this night would live in your heart forever, not just for the history you made, but for the people you made it with.

[pbaz7]

CROSSING THE LINE — PART SIX ♡

paige x azzi

warning: explicit language, sexual content

word count: 11.3k

A/N: Alright so this is long as hell 😭. Like I was saying earlier the spicy scene is a little detailed so be prepared for that. If you recognize the outfits I mentioned for their date you know they both looked good as hell in them lol. The comments and live reactions everyone leaves after they read makes my day so please keep it up!

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

 December 2023 

Paige and Azzi had spent the last few weeks navigating the complexities of their new dynamic. It wasn’t exactly a smooth transition, but it wasn’t a complete disaster either. Their conversations, jokes, and banter came back effortlessly, as though no time had passed. But, now there was an added layer of tension in each interaction that they both struggled to ignore. 

They had crossed the line, and the memory of it lingered on both of their minds constantly. Laying in one another’s beds all the time or sharing a quick or playful touch carried a tension that hadn’t been there before Halloween. So they were both trying to find their footing in this uncharted territory. 

Despite the fact that they both clearly wanted to go there again, they agreed they needed to take time to fully trust one another and build their foundation before jumping into something. Paige had to learn to trust that Azzi wasn’t going to just up and leave, she had to learn how to allow herself to be with someone. Azzi had to trust that Paige was genuinely in it for the long haul, not the old Paige who would get bored and discard her like a fleeting hookup. The agreement seemed reasonable, even necessary. But despite their best intentions, they found themselves slipping up all the time. 

One of the first times happened after practice. They were lounging casually in Paige’s room, a routine born out of habit and comfort because Paige swore her bed was more comfortable. Azzi’s leg was thrown over Paige’s as Paige sat up, massaging out the lingering soreness from the last road game. Azzi’s old injury from her time at UMD still had a way of acting up sometimes, and Paige, being a good ‘teammate,’ insisted on helping every time.

“I still don’t get how this keeps happening,” Paige said, pressing her thumbs into the muscle just above Azzi’s knee. Her brow slightly furrowed in concentration as she continued to apply firm pressure. “You’ve been so good with your recovery lately.”

Azzi shrugged lightly, her head resting back against the headboard. “Guess my body didn’t get the memo about the long plane ride.”

Paige huffed a small laugh. “Well, lucky for you, I’m basically a pro at this now.” Her hands worked skillfully over Azzi’s leg, her fingers kneading the muscle with a mix of care and precision.

Azzi let out a quiet hum of appreciation. “Mm. You are really good at this.”

Paige smirked, her eyes flicking up to meet Azzi’s briefly. “I’m just good with my hands,” she replied smoothly, her tone teasing but carrying a hint of pride.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Yeah trust me I remember.”

The words lingered between them, heavy just as Azzi intended. Paige kept her focus on Azzi’s leg, but the silence spoke volumes, the air between them a little thick with tension.

Azzi broke it first, her voice soft but pointed. “You tense up every time I hint at us having sex, you know.”

Paige blinked, her hands faltering for a moment before continuing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said, feigning confusion.

Azzi’s gaze stayed steady. “You know what I’m talking about.” Her tone was light, but there was a seriousness beneath it.

Paige swallowed hard, her hands resuming their work as she focused intently on Azzi’s knee which was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “You’re imagining things,” she muttered. “Maybe one of those dreams of yours was too detailed Az.”

Azzi chuckled softly, tilting her head to the side as she studied Paige. “Am I?” she asked, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. “Because I seem to remember you were very, very thorough.”

Paige, usually brimming with confidence that bordered on cocky, faltered slightly, her usual composure slipping. “You’re insane,” she muttered, shaking her head, though a faint flush crept up her neck.

Azzi’s lips curved into a smirk as she leaned back against the headboard, completely at ease. “Right. My mistake,” she said smoothly, her eyes locking with Paige’s deliberately. Her voice dropped slightly, taking on a warmth that sent a shiver down Paige’s spine. “But seriously though, don’t stop. It feels so good.”

Clearing her throat, Paige tried to play it off. “You’re crazy,” she muttered, focusing her attention back on Azzi’s knee.

“You started it,” Azzi countered, her voice light but tinged with something Paige couldn’t place.

Paige let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Fair enough.” She adjusted her grip, her thumbs pressing into a particularly tight spot.

The sound that escaped Azzi was too close to something Paige had heard in an entirely different context. The sound sent a jolt through her, and she froze for a moment, her hands stilling against Azzi’s leg.

Paige glanced up, her pupils now slightly dilated as her eyes locked onto Azzi’s. The look Azzi gave her was steady, unflinching, but there was something in it that made Paige’s pulse quicken. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry, and quickly looked away.

“I, uh… I need water,” Paige mumbled, already shifting Azzi’s leg to stand.

Before she could move, Azzi’s hand reached out, wrapping gently around her wrist. “Wait,” Azzi said softly, her tone was calm but insistent.

Paige hesitated, her gaze flicking to where Azzi’s fingers held her. She could feel the warmth of Azzi’s touch, the quiet undeniable firmness in the gesture. Slowly, Paige looked back at her, her expression slightly guarded.

“Azzi…” Paige said, her voice low, her tone almost a warning.

Azzi didn’t let go. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied Paige’s face. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?” Paige asked, the slight waver in her voice betraying her.

“Run,” Azzi said simply, her voice steady but laced with meaning. “Every time things get… interesting…you find an excuse to leave.”

Paige blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “I’m not running,” she protested weakly, though even she didn’t believe the words.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Then stay.”

The challenge in Azzi’s voice was clear, and it made Paige’s stomach flip. She opened her mouth to respond but found she didn’t have the words.

Azzi’s grip on her wrist tightened slightly, enough to pull Paige forward, closer to her on the bed. Paige could see the resolve in her eyes, the quiet determination that didn’t really leave room for disagreement. Then, without warning, Azzi tugged her closer, closing the distance between them. The moment their lips touched everything seemed to pause. A stillness that made Paige’s heart skip before it began racing. 

So Paige froze at first, her mind running a dozen directions and a dozen scenarios, but then Azzi’s arms wrapped around her neck, tugging her deeper into the kiss as her hands wrapped softly around the nape of her neck. It wasn’t rushed, but it was intense, as if Azzi was pulling her into something that didn’t allow for hesitation. Paige felt the tension in her chest begin to loosen, the heat spreading as instinct took over and her free hand found its way to Azzi’s cheek as she deepened the kiss.

For a moment, everything else fell away—the doubts, the fears, all the questions. All that mattered was the way Azzi’s lips felt against hers, the way their bodies seemed to gravitate towards one another so naturally.

But as their bodies pressed closer and the kiss deepend, something in Paige stirred, so she broke the kiss softly pulling back just enough to catch her breath much to Azzi’s protest. 

Paige’s voice was barely a whisper as she murmured, “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, eyes searching Paige's face. “Why not?”

Paige shook her head, feeling the way her mind was racing. “We’re not ready yet Az.”

Azzi furrowed her brow. “Why can’t we just let things happen naturally? We’re in a good place, aren’t we? I’m fine, P I promise.”

Without a word, Paige reached over and unlocked her phone and passed it to Azzi. She watched her closely, her expression softening.

Azzi took the phone, her eyes reflecting her confusion. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Go through it,” Paige urged, her voice soft yet insistent.

Azzi hesitated, a knot of doubt forming in her stomach; she wasn’t sure she wanted to see what was behind that request although part of her knew it was absolutely nothing. “I don’t know, Paige…”

Paige’s tone softened, almost pleading. “I swear, there’s nothing in there. It's just... I need you to trust me and see for yourself.” 

Azzi sighed, fighting the anxiety that bubbled inside her. Paige was constantly reassuring her, but part of her still feared what she might find. So with a resigned sigh, Azzi locked the phone again and tossed it gently back to Paige.

“I don’t need to see it, Paige,” Azzi muttered, her voice strained.

Paige's now softly pointing out, “You can’t even go through my phone without being scared, Az. We’re not ready, and I want us to be ready before we go there again.”

Azzi’s eyes dropped to her hands, fingers nervously playing with each other. A wave of sadness washed over her, guilt twisting in her chest. She felt torn—wanting to trust Paige, but something in her held back, unsure, afraid of what she might find. A mix of emotions swirled through her brain making it hard to breathe for a moment.

Paige, sensing the internal struggle, moved closer. She gently grabbed Azzi's jaw, lifting her head until their eyes met. Her voice was soft but firm, the sincerity clear in every word. “It’s okay. We’ll get there. We just need a little more time.”

Azzi nodded silently, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. Paige smiled, her touch gentle as she settled back into her previous position, resuming the soothing massage on Azzi’s knee as the energy in the room slowly shifted back to normal.

…

Then there was today, a few weeks later Paige was leaning casually against the wall waiting for Azzi to get out of class, her backpack slung over one shoulder as she chatted with a girl Azzi didn’t recognize. Azzi was walking toward her, her pace slowing slightly as she took in the sight. Paige’s easy smile, the way she gestured animatedly, and the way the girl was giving Paige her undivided attention—all of it caused something to simmer in Azzi’s chest.

But Azzi didn’t let it show. She schooled her expression into neutrality as she approached, stopping just short of Paige. Paige caught sight of her and broke into a huge smile, her face lighting up effortlessly.

“Hey Azzi” Paige said, her voice casual as she turned to the girl. “Thank you, I appreciate the support!”

The girl nodded, her gaze lingering on Paige for just a second too long before walking away. Azzi’s eyes followed her briefly, her jaw tightening.

As they made their way to Paige’s car, she threw her arm around Azzi’s shoulders the way she always did now when they were walking but the walk was silent. To Paige, it was a comfortable kind of silence, one she didn’t think twice about. For Azzi, it was anything but.

By the time they arrived at their empty suite, Azzi’s frustration had bubbled to the surface at Paige not saying anything. She shut the door behind her with a little more force than necessary and turned to Paige.

“Who was that?” Azzi asked, her tone clipped.

Paige blinked, confused as these were the first words Azzi was saying to her. “Who was who?”

Azzi crossed her arms. “The girl you were talking to.”

Paige shrugged, her expression indifferent. “I don’t know. Some random fan asking about our next game.”

Azzi scoffed, her expression tightening. “A fan, huh? Right. Because you’re always just casually talking to fans.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Paige asked, her confusion evident

Azzi’s voice was sharp, but quieter now, as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to say it out loud. “It means I’ve seen how you are with people, Paige. I know how easy it is for you to flirt without even realizing it.”

Paige groaned, throwing her hands up. “Azzi, come on. She was literally asking about the next game. I wasn’t flirting with her.”

Azzi muttered something under her breath, something Paige couldn’t quite catch.

“What?” Paige asked again, her voice growing slightly.

Azzi let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Maybe you weren’t trying to. But she didn’t look like she was asking about the game, Paige.”

Paige huffed, her frustration mounting. “I don’t get it. I didn’t do anything wrong, and you’re acting like I cheated or something!”

Azzi’s jaw clenched, and her voice dropped even further. “I’m not saying that. But it’s hard not to wonder sometimes… to wonder if maybe you’re getting bored.”

Paige froze, her eyebrows knitting together. “Bored? Azzi, what are you talking about?”

Azzi’s gaze fell, and her voice softened, no longer sharp but tinged with vulnerability. “We just haven’t defined anything. And we haven’t… you know… since that first time. I just—sometimes I don’t know where we stand, Paige and I don’t know if us trying to figure this out is enough for you. If us waiting is boring to you.”

Paige blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. Her frustration tangled with guilt, but she couldn’t find the words to make Azzi feel better. “Azzi…”

Azzi stepped back slightly.. “You’re so used to being wanted by everyone and getting what you want whenever you want it. It’s not like I don’t know that. I just..waiting is a little frustrating and—” She cut herself off, exhaling sharply. “Forget it.”

“Forget it?” Paige repeated, her voice rising slightly. “No, Azzi, don’t do that. Don’t act like this is just on me. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m literally here with you.”

Azzi shook her head, her tone weary now. “I don’t want to argue with you, Paige. Not about this right now, I was just being jealous it’s stupid.”

She turned and started toward her room, but Paige followed her. “No, wait. Don’t walk away.”

Azzi stopped just inside her room, bending over to grab something from her desk. Without looking back, she said lightly, “Seriously, Paige, I don’t want to do this right now. We can talk later.”

Paige’s frustration was boiling over. She hated the weight in Azzi’s voice, hated how the words stuck in her own throat. She didn’t know how to explain herself, how to make Azzi see that there was nothing else—no one else—that mattered to her. That waiting for Azzi didn’t bother her. 

Before she could think twice about it, Paige crossed the room in two quick strides. Without hesitation she grabbed Azi’s arm, softly spinning her around. Before either of them could speak, Paige’s lips crashed against Azzi’s. The kiss was full of frustration, need, and every unspoken word between them. 

For a moment, Azzi froze, caught off guard, but then her body melted into Paige’s. Her hands clenching the fabric of Paige’s shirt pulling her closer as she kissed her back with just as much intensity. The argument dissolved between them, replaced by something much more raw.

Paige pulled Azzi backwards, guiding her with each step. Their lips never parted, each kiss growing deeper and more desperate as each of them let out their frustration at their situation. Paige barely registered the edge of the bed hitting the back of her knees before she fell onto it, Azzi following instantly. Azzi straddled her, her hands gripping Paige’s shirt tightly as their mouths locked in a rhythm that burned away their anger and replaced it with pure desire. 

Paige groaned into Azzi’s mouth as Azzi rolled her hips into Paige’s pressing their bodies closer, the kiss growing heavier with every second. Paige’s hands instinctively wrapped firmly around Azz’s waist, trying to steady herself but pull Azzi closer at the same time. The touch seemed to encourage Azzi who broke from Paige’s lips and began trailing urgent kisses down her neck. 

Paige’s breath hitched, her head tilting back as a shiver ran through her. “Fuck Azzi–” she whispered, her voice caught between a desperate plea and a low moan. 

At the sound of this Azzi froze. Her lips hovered over Paige’s skin, the weight of the moment crashing down on her. Slowly Azzi pulled back, her breathing uneven as she propped herself up slightly with a hand on Paige’s chest, her dark eyes clouded with something indecipherable. 

Paige lay beneath her, her blue eyes dark with pure desire but also something softer—a quiet vulnerability that tugged at Azzi’s chest, that made Azzi want to just say forget it. But Azzi sighed, pressing the bridge of her nose between her fingers before climbing off of Paige entirely.

The abruptness of the movement made Paige sit up on her elbows, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Azzi,” she started, her voice hesitant, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Azzi shook her head, cutting her off gently. “You don’t need to apologize.”

Paige watched her closely, but her heart clenched when she saw Azzi grab her gym bag. A sudden panic flared within her. Paige scrambled to her feet, her voice pitching higher. “Where are you going?”

Azzi slung the bag over her shoulder, glancing at Paige with a calmness that didn’t match the rising tension in Paige’s chest. “I’m going to the gym.”

Paige’s stomach twisted. Azzi’s response was completely rational, but it didn’t stop the surge of panic that overtook her. She stepped forward, her voice shaky. “Azzi, wait. Please don’t go.”

Azzi’s expression softened already knowing what was going through Paige’s head. “Paige—”

“I’m sorry,” Paige interrupted, her words tumbling out. “I didn’t mean to push—I don’t know why I did that. Just, don’t go. Please.”

Azzi exhaled, the weight of Paige’s fear pressing down on her. “You don’t need to apologize,” she said softly, stepping closer, her voice dripping with warmth. “It’s not what you think. I’m not leaving. I just need to clear my head, okay?

But Paige’s unease was written all over her face. Her blue eyes glistened with unshed tears, her lips parted as if to plead further. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But you’re walking out. You’re just…leaving. And what if–”

Azzi sighed again, cutting her off gently but firmly, before dropping her bag and stepping forward grabbing Paige’s hand. She led her to sit down on the edge of the bed. Azzi knelt in front of her, placing her hands gently on Paige’s knees.

“Paige,” she started, her voice firm but tender. Paige tried to interrupt, shaking her head, but Azzi caught her face in her hands, making her look directly at her.

“Listen to me,” Azzi said, her voice steady. “I’m not leaving. Baby, I promise you, I’m not leaving you.”

Paige’s breath hitched, the emotions swirling in her chest almost too much to bear. “But you’re going to the gym,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “And I–I don’t know, it feels like…like you’re leaving because I messed up, and I–”

“Hey. I’m just going to the gym,” Azzi cut in gently, her thumbs brushing over Paige’s cheeks. “You didn’t mess up. This isn’t about that. We were arguing about something that doesn’t even matter, and I just need a little time to clear my head. That’s all. I don’t want to fight with you, and I don’t want this to spiral. We both just need a little time to settle and calm down.”

Paige blinked, her mind beginning to grasp Azzi’s words. Slowly, she nodded, the realization dawning on her as her breathing steadied. “You promise?”

Azzi smiled softly, letting her hands linger on Paige’s cheeks for a moment whispering “I promise P,” before she pulled back. She slowly stood and grabbed her phone and gym bag again, heading toward the door. But as she reached the threshold, she glanced back at Paige, noticing the way her mind still seemed to race, her unease still faintly visible.

Azzi hesitated for a moment before walking back to her. She bent down in front of Paige again, her brown eyes warm as they met Paige’s. “Paige I promise you I’ll be back. I was being irrational and I just need a little time to think baby.”

Paige nodded again, her lips quirking into the faintest smile at the word ‘baby.’

Then, Azzi leaned in and kissed Paige—softly, gently, with a tenderness that melted away the last of Paige’s fears.

When Azzi pulled back, Paige managed a small smile, her chest feeling a little lighter. “Okay,” she whispered.

Azzi gave her one last reassuring look before standing and heading out, the door clicking softly behind her. This time, when Azzi walked out, Paige didn’t panic. She sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers brushing her lips as she continued to smile faintly.  Her heart settled as her mind finally began to quiet. 

Later that night, Azzi returned to the suite with a steaming bag of Noodles & Company and a shirley temple. The soft glow from the TV lit up Paige’s face as she sat with her legs spread on the couch, her headset slightly askew as she focused on her game of Fortnite yelling about who knows what. When Paige looked up and saw Azzi standing there, her smile was radiant—so pure and full of warmth that Azzi swore she’d never forget it as it made her heart skip a beat. 

“I’m back,” Azzi said softly, holding up the food.

Ice, sprawled on the armchair groaned dramatically, flicking a chip at Azzi. “I see how it is–bring noodles for Paige but nothing for me. Your favorite child”

Azzi laughed, her eyes never leaving Paige. “You can have what I got for myself,” she teased, handing Ice the bottle of water with a smirk.

Ice rolled her eyes. “You’re such a simp.”

Paige chuckled at that, but Azzi didn’t care. With a soft smile, she walked over and plucked Paige’s headset off her head.

“Hey!” Paige protested, reaching for it, but Azzi was already tugging her to her feet.

“Time to take a break,” Azzi said, her voice playful but firm.

“One more game,” Paige whined, her lips jutting into a pout.

Azzi shook her head, laughing. “Nope. My room. Now.”

Paige huffed but followed Azzi willingly, shooting a teasing glance at Ice, who muttered something about third-wheeling and how they never feed their child as they disappeared into Azzi’s room.

Once inside, Azzi set the food on her desk, but Paige crossed her arms, staring her down. “You’re eating some of this,” she insisted.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “I brought it for you, you know.”

“And I’m sharing it with you,” Paige said, already opening the box and poking around with a fork. “Sit.”

Azzi chuckled, stepping back and sitting on the bed, leaning back against the pillows with a grin. Paige sat on the bed beside her, the container of noodles in her hand. She held out a forkful of noodles, her gaze locked on Azzi’s as she leaned in a little closer.

“Really?” Azzi asked, amusement flickering in her eyes.

“Really,” Paige replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Azzi sighed but leaned forward, letting Paige feed her. They laughed as Paige made a show of wiping a stray noodle from Azzi’s chin, her touch lingering just a second too long.

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You’re not being subtle, you know.”

Paige grinned, giving her a playful shrug. “I’m just making sure you don’t go hungry.”

Azzi laughed softly, her hand brushing over Paige’s, lingering just for a second. “If you keep looking at me like that, I might start getting other ideas about where this night is going.”

Paige's smile widened, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. “Oh, trust me, there’s plenty more where that came from. ”

This statement makes Azzi raise her eyebrow at the blonde sitting in front of her.

Paige just laughs, shaking her head as she takes a bite of her food. “Get your head out of the gutter, we’re watching Kyrie highlights.” 

This immediately makes Azzi groan. 

They continued eating as the quiet settled around them, neither of them noticing how natural it all felt—how their earlier tension had dissolved into something lighter, softer.

As Paige scooped up another bite of noodles and tried to offer it to her, Azzi caught her wrist gently, stopping her. Paige looked at her, confused.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Azzi said softly, her brown eyes filled with admiration.

Paige’s cheeks flushed, her lips twitching into a shy smile. “I think you’re pretty amazing too.”

Azzi leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to Paige’s cheek. “I don’t deserve you.”

Paige shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “You deserve the world, Azzi.”

They continued eating, sharing the container of noodles as a comfortable quiet settled between them. Every now and then, Paige would sneak a bite in Azzi’s direction, insisting she eat more despite Azzi’s protests. Paige was adamant, though, grinning as she held out another forkful until Azzi rolled her eyes and relented, letting out a playful sigh of defeat.

When Paige reached for her shirley temple, Azzi playfully made a grab for it, earning a sharp glare and a dramatic clutch of the cup from Paige. “Don’t even think about it this is where I draw the line,” Paige warned, her tone light but firm, causing Azzi to laugh, her head shaking at Paige’s possessiveness over the drink.

The quiet moments stretched between them, filled with warmth and contentment. As Paige leaned back against the headboard, her mind felt unusually calm. The endless worries, the fears that usually gnawed at her, were nowhere to be found. Azzi’s presence anchored her—a steady, quiet reassurance she hadn’t realized she’d needed until now.

Azzi, meanwhile, watched Paige smile and laugh, her heart swelling with an emotion she hadn’t fully allowed herself to feel until now. She could see it in the way Paige looked at her, in the easy way Paige seemed to settle into their shared space. Paige being at home waiting for her. This wasn’t fleeting; it wasn’t temporary. Paige wasn’t going anywhere.

As Paige set the empty container aside, she leaned back against the headboard, a thoughtful look crossing her face. Out of nowhere, she broke the silence. “Let me take you on a date,” she said, her voice casual, as if she were suggesting they go for a walk.

Azzi blinked, slightly caught off guard. “A date?” she repeated, her tone curious, as if needing to clarify what she’d just heard.

“Yeah,” Paige said simply, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why not?”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Paige, you’ve never been on a date in your life,” she teased, the corners of her lips lifting into a smirk.

Paige grinned, unfazed. “Then you can be my first. It’ll just be dinner. That’s what people do on first dates, right?”

Azzi couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her, a warm sound that filled the room. “Sure, P,” she said softly, her gaze lingering on Paige’s earnest expression. “You can take me on a date.”

“Perfect,” Paige said, her grin widening. “Tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow?” Azzi repeated, her eyebrows shooting up in mock surprise. “What if I’m busy?”

Paige tilted her head, giving Azzi a pointed look. “We have the same schedule. You’re free.”

Azzi playfully scoffed, crossing her arms. “Fine, tomorrow,” she said, her lips curling into an amused smile. “But don’t think this means I’m easy to impress.”

Paige leaned closer, her confidence never wavering. “Oh, I don’t need to impress you,” she teased, her voice dropping just enough to send a slight shiver through Azzi. “You’re already impressed by everything I do.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the blush creeping up her neck betrayed her. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, unable to hide her smile.

“Ridiculous enough for you to go on a date with me,” Paige shot back, settling back into the pillows with a triumphant grin.

…

The next night rolled around, and Paige found herself standing outside the door of her own suite, a bouquet of flowers in her hand. She’d insisted that if this was going to be a real date, she had to pick Azzi up properly. So to make it authentic, she’d gotten ready in Nika’s room, leaving Azzi to prepare in the suite they shared.

Now, as she stood there, her nerves betrayed her usual confidence. Paige wiped her hands on her pants and took a steadying breath, the flowers trembling slightly in her grip. When the door finally opened, any composure she’d mustered vanished.

Azzi stood before her in a matching hot pink set: shorts and a blazer-like jacket that hung open to reveal an extremely cropped black shirt underneath, leaving little to the imagination. The outfit framed her toned stomach perfectly, her belly piercing catching the light, while the silver heart necklace Paige had given her rested against her skin.

Paige’s breath hitched, her words disappearing entirely as she stared. Azzi, blushing ever so slightly under the weight of Paige’s gaze, let out a soft laugh. “Do you like it?” she teased, her voice laced with a hint of shyness despite her confident appearance.

Paige finally snapped her mouth shut, her lips curving into a goofy smile. “Woah… yeah…you look amazing, Azzi,” she managed, her voice quieter than usual.

Then she remembered the flowers still in her hand and thrust them forward a little awkwardly. “These are for you.”

Azzi’s smile softened, her brown eyes sparkling as she took the bouquet. “Thank you,” she said warmly, clearly charmed by how flustered Paige was—a rarity for the usually self-absorbed blonde.

Azzi turned and walked back into the suite to find a vase for the flowers. Paige stayed rooted in place, still lingering by the doorway. Her gaze followed Azzi as the other girl moved effortlessly, her perfume lingering in the air where she had stood. Paige exhaled slowly, her heart pounding as she realized how completely Azzi had captivated her.

As Azzi walked back toward the door, her eyes flickered over Paige, taking in every detail. Paige had her hair down, slightly wavy—just the way Azzi liked it—and was wearing a knitted cardigan adorned with delicate flowers and a white shirt underneath it. Her patchwork blue jeans, with their various shades of denim, added a casual yet stylish touch that somehow made her look a little too good in Azzi’s eyes. 

Azzi’s gaze lingered as she raked her eyes over Paige’s figure, a subtle appreciation shining in her expression. Paige, noticing this, seemed to regain her usual confidence. The nervous energy from earlier faded, replaced by a smirk that tugged at the corner of her lips.

“What?” Paige teased, her voice low and playful as she tilted her head. “You already eye fucking me, and we haven’t even left yet?”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by Paige’s sudden shift in demeanor, but her cheeks warmed as she laughed softly. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she shot back, brushing past Paige and bumping her shoulder lightly.

Paige chuckled, stepping aside to let Azzi pass, but her smirk only deepened. “Come on,” she said, holding out her hand for Azzi to take. “Let’s get this date started before you decide you can’t wait.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that crept across her face as she slipped her hand into Paige’s. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t already decided.”

…

When they arrived at the restaurant, Paige made a point to pull Azzi’s seat out for her, earning a soft, amused smile. After ensuring Azzi was comfortably seated, Paige settled into her own chair, her fingers lightly drumming on the table.

Azzi noticed the subtle nervous energy radiating from Paige and leaned forward, her smile warm and reassuring. “You know you don’t need to be nervous, right? It’s just us. We’ve had dinner together hundreds of times.”

Paige, not one to admit she was rattled, plastered on a confident grin. “Psh, nervous? Me? I’ve got this in the bag,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively, though her knee bouncing under the table told a different story.

Azzi tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re such a liar. You’re literally fidgeting right now.”

Paige stilled her hands and raised a brow. “Okay, first of all, I’m not fidgeting. I’m just... uh, practicing my reflexes. Athletes do that, you know. Second, this is going to be the best date you’ve ever been on, so sit back and enjoy, Ms. Fudd.”

Azzi chuckled, leaning her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand. “Alright then, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Paige smirked, relaxing slightly as they fell into their usual rhythm. The conversation shifted to light teasing like always 

Azzi grinned as Paige described an admittedly clumsy move during practice earlier that week that led to a turnover. “So you’re saying your hands couldn’t keep up, huh?” Azzi teased, her voice dropping just enough to add a layer of meaning.

Paige rolled her eyes, biting back a smile. “Not everyone has your freakishly perfect coordination, Az.”

“Good thing I remember you being pretty coordinated when it actually counts…” Azzi replied smoothly, her voice low and full of suggestion.

Paige froze mid-breath, her jaw dropping open as her brain scrambled to process Azzi’s words.

Azzi leaned back in her chair, her smirk wide as she watched Paige’s stunned expression. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

Before Paige could even think of a response, the waiter approached their table, her attention immediately drawn to Paige. With a charming smile, she addressed Paige warmly, completely ignoring Azzi.

Paige, however, didn’t even notice the waiter’s presence. Her wide-eyed gaze remained fixed on Azzi, her expression a mix of desire, admiration, and pure shock.

Azzi glanced at the waiter, then back at Paige, raising an eyebrow as she crossed her arms. “Earth to Paige,” she said teasingly, lightly kicking her under the table.

Paige blinked, finally snapping out of her daze. “Huh?” she mumbled, her head jerking toward the waiter, who was now waiting patiently with an amused expression.

The waiter gave Paige a quick once-over before flashing a flirtatious smile. “I was just asking, if you’re ready to order? I’m sure whatever you choose will be just as good as you look,” she said, her tone light and teasing.

Paige, still a little dazed, didn’t even acknowledge the compliment, her eyes having already drifted back to Azzi. Without missing a beat, she motioned toward Azzi, murmuring, “Um she’ll order for both of us.”

Azzi smirked at the subtle way Paige brushed the girl off. “I’ll have the grilled salmon, and she’ll have the filet mignon, medium, with a side of the mashed potatoes,” she said smoothly, locking eyes with the waiter.

The waiter gave a quick nod, clearly a little taken aback by Azzi’s effortless command, before she turned and walked away. 

Azzi, not letting her teasing moment pass, leaned in and whispered, “You’re so easy to fluster, you know that?”

Paige finally shook herself out of her stupor, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “You like making me do that, don’t you?”

Azzi’s smirk deepened, and she leaned back in her chair. “Maybe. It’s cute how much I can get to you with just a few words.”

Azzi and Paige continued their light conversation, the air between them easy and familiar as they waited for their food to come out. 

As she returned with their food, her smile widening as she set the plates down in front of them. Her gaze lingered on Paige once more, and she leaned slightly closer than necessary. “Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked, her voice soft, her tone unmistakably suggestive.

Paige, busy unwrapping her silverware, didn’t bother looking at the waiter. Instead, she gestured toward Azzi. “You can ask her,” she said dismissively, her tone a little flat.

Azzi’s lips twitched with amusement as she leaned back in her chair. With deliberate ease, she reached across the table, letting her hand rest just near Paige’s wrist. She kept her touch subtle, a silent claim that didn’t go unnoticed by Paige, whose posture relaxed slightly as she smiled to herself.

Azzi finally turned her gaze to the waiter, her smile polite but sharp. “We’re all set, thanks,” she said smoothly, her tone leaving no room for interpretation.

The waiter hesitated, clearly missing—or choosing to ignore—the subtext. She turned her attention back to Paige, leaning forward slightly. “Well, if you change your mind... you know where to find me,” she said, her eyes glinting with boldness as she lingered at the table longer than necessary.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her amusement growing at the audacity of the girl in front of her. So her fingers shifted, brushing just barely against Paige’s wrist now, her touch featherlight but deliberate. Paige’s breath slightly hitched, her eyes darting to Azzi as her face began to flush at the soft touch.

Azzi, clearly enjoying herself, leaned forward slightly. Her voice dropped, soft and teasing but with a possessive undertone that was impossible to miss. “Paige, baby,” she murmured, her thumb starting a slow, deliberate stroke against the inside of Paige’s wrist as she looked her in the eyes. “Is there anything you need from her?”

Paige’s lips parted, her breath slightly stuttering as she stared at Azzi in awe. She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “No... I'm good,” she said, the words rushed but sincere, clearly immersed in the control Azzi was putting forward.

Azzi smirked, her fingers sliding down to lightly intertwine with Paige’s. She didn’t grip too tightly, just enough to make her point as she finally turned her attention back to the waiter. “See? She’s good,” Azzi said, her tone sweet but pointed, her eyes narrowing slightly.

The waiter faltered, her confidence cracking as her eyes flicked between them, taking in the subtle shift in Paige’s demeanor as she was once again completely immersed in Azzi. “I was just being friendly,” she said, her smile now strained.

Azzi’s smile tightened, and her grip on Paige’s hand squeezed just slightly, her thumb brushing along the back of Paige’s knuckles. “Friendly’s fine,” she said lightly, her tone still sweet but carrying an unmistakable edge. “Just not with her.” 

The waiter finally seemed to understand she was losing ground. With a tight, awkward smile, she mumbled, “Well... enjoy your meal,” before walking away without another word.

As the waiter disappeared, Azzi let out a soft chuckle, her thumb lazily resuming its strokes against Paige’s hand. “That was cute,” Azzi teased, her smirk widening as she watched Paige squirm.

Paige groaned, finally tugging her hand free and leaning forward to hide her face in her hands. “You’re kinda crazy Az,” she muttered, though her soft laugh betrayed her words.

Azzi leaned back in her chair, her smirk still firmly in place as she picked up her fork. “Well I guess that’s the first new thing you’ll learn about me,” she said casually, giving Paige a look. “I really don’t like sharing.”

Paige peeked at her from between her fingers, her lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Hmm. Wouldn’t have pegged you as the jealous type,” she said, her voice light but edged with curiosity.

Azzi’s smile widened as she shrugged. “I didn’t say anything about being jealous,” she replied smoothly.. She tilted her head toward where the waiter had retreated. “I just know how to put people in their place.”

Paige laughed, rolling her eyes as she leaned back in her chair. “No need,” she said casually. “I don’t see anybody but you at this point.”

The simplicity of Paige's words struck Azzi unexpectedly, and her heart fluttered in her chest. There was a warmth in the sincerity of it all, a reassurance that settled deep in her, and in that moment, Azzi realized how much she wanted to give herself over completely to Paige. It wasn’t just about the date or the playful teasing anymore—it was about something real, something she could feel in her bones.

A while later Azzi was grinning as Paige gave her another bite of her food, making her comment softly, “You know, this is the first date I’ve actually enjoyed.”

Paige cocked an eyebrow, her lips curving into a cocky grin. “Of course it is,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “It’s me.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, her smile never wavering. “Whatever,” she muttered playfully, but the affection in her voice was unmistakable. She couldn’t deny how much this meant to her.

Paige, with a teasing glint in her eye, reached for another bite of food, offering it to Azzi again. But Azzi raised an eyebrow, giving her a mock glare. “Are you actually going to eat any of your food, or are you just planning on giving it all to me?”

Paige shrugged with a mischievous grin. “You need to eat.”

Azzi glanced down at her plate, clearly making progress in her meal. “I’m eating,” she said, giving Paige an exaggerated look. Azzi picked up a forkful of her salmon and waved it in front of Paige’s face. “Here. You try it. It’s actually pretty good.”

Paige recoiled dramatically, holding up her hands. “Oh no, I’m good. You know I don’t do salmon.”

Azzi made a face, then went for the classic move. She looked at Paige with the most exaggerated, pleading puppy dog eyes she could muster. “Please? Just one bite? For me?”

Paige sighed dramatically, resisting for only a moment. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

But before Azzi could even manage a victorious grin, Paige relented. “Fine. One bite.” She said with mock reluctance and let Azzi feed her a bite of the salmon.

Paige chewed it slowly, her face a picture of careful deliberation. She swallowed and then, after a long pause, gave Azzi a look that was half-amused, half-disgusted.

Azzi was already smiling, clearly pleased with herself. “See? It wasn’t that bad.”

Paige grumbles in disagreement as she eats some of her food to get rid of the taste. 

As they continued talking Paige was mid-bite when a small bit of mashed potato found its way to her lip. She didn’t notice at first but Azzi did. So with a playful smirk, Azzi reached across the table, her fingers brushing lightly against Paige's skin as she gently wiped the spot from her lip with her index finger. As she pulled her hand back, Azzi made a deliberate show of slowly licking the mashed potato off her finger, her gaze locked with Paige’s the entire time. The movement was teasing, a mix of subtle flirtation and confidence that left Paige a little breathless.

Paige couldn’t pull her eyes away from Azzi as she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. When she managed to speak, her voice low, almost a whisper as she simply said, “Azzi please.”

Azzi tilted her head innocently, her lips curling into a playful smile. “Yes, Paige?” she asked, her tone casual, but her eyes sparkled with mischief, knowing exactly what she was doing, loving the control she had over Paige. 

Paige swallowed hard, her heart racing as she licked her lips. “You’re killing me tonight,” she murmured, her gaze never breaking from Azzi’s.

Azzi’s smile widened, her voice dripping with teasing confidence as she leaned just slightly closer across the table. “I know, baby,” she replied smoothly.

The air around them seemed to shift. The noise of the restaurant, the clink of cutlery, the hum of conversations—all faded into the background as Paige and Azzi stayed locked in each other’s gaze. Paige’s pupils dilated, her blue eyes growing darker under the intensity of Azzi’s stare. 

Azzi, fully aware of the effect she was having, didn’t look away. There was a challenge in her gaze now, an unspoken dare, almost as if she was silently urging Paige to make the next move. 

Paige clenched her jaw, fighting the urge to pull Azzi closer, to end the dinner and take her home. She could feel her composure slipping away, and Azzi, with that smile still firmly in place, was more than happy to push her further.

Azzi’s gaze never wavered as she subtly shifted her hand, her fingers brushing against Paige's with a deliberate slowness as she let their fingers intertwine, a small yet intimate gesture that sent a jolt of heat through Paige’s body. Azzi’s touch was light, almost teasing, but it was enough to completely throw off Paige’s concentration.

Paige had to close her eyes for a moment, trying to regain some semblance of control. She could barely think straight with the way Azzi was looking at her. So she took a slow breath, trying to ground herself, but Azzi’s hand holding hers kept her tethered in the moment. 

“Open your eyes P,” Azzi’s voice was a whisper, but it carried authority, a command wrapped in sweetness. The edge in her tone made Paige’s stomach tighten.

Paige slowly opened her eyes, finding herself once again lost in the depths of Azzi’s gaze immediately. There was no escaping it now. She was completely under Azzi’s spell, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to escape at all. Azzi’s fingers tightened around hers, their palms pressed together as the world around them seemed to fade, leaving only them.

Azzi’s gaze softened, her voice barely above a whisper. “What are you thinking about?” she asked, her words carrying a mix of curiosity and something darker, something that Paige could feel even before the question left her lips.

Paige, unable to look away, let a slow smile curl at the corners of her mouth. “You know exactly what I’m thinking about,” she said, her voice low. 

Azzi’s smile widened, her eyes flickering with mischief and desire. “Take me home then,” she said, the words slipping from her lips like a secret, a command wrapped in temptation.

That was all it took.

Paige didn’t hesitate. She threw a couple of bills onto the table—definitely more than enough to cover the tab—and stood up. Both of them heading for Paige’s car with a little extra pep in their step. 

…

Once they get to the suite, Azzi starts walking towards her room, but Paige grabs her hand pulling her towards her room that’s further from Ice’s, trying to spare the girl. 

Azzi raises an eyebrow but doesn’t protest as she lets Paige lead her. As they step into Paige’s room she wastes no time shutting the door behind them and locking it. 

Paige flicks on her led lamp to lightly illuminate the room and before she can gather her bearings, Azzi’s hands were on her, as she gently pushed her back against the door. Paige’s back hit it with a soft thud, her breath catching in her throat at Azzi’s confidence and her pulse quickening slightly as she met Azzi’s smile with a grin of her own. Azzi’s smile was a slow, teasing smile–one that made Paige feel like she was already a step behind in whatever was happening in Azzi’s head. 

Azzi studied her for a moment, clearly enjoying the way Paige’s body seemed to melt at her touch. Without breaking eye contact, she reached for the buttons on Paige's cardigan, her fingers grazing the fabric as she slowly started unbuttoning it. "You always look so damn good," Azzi murmured, her voice soft but filled with heat. "You have no idea what you do to me. How you make me feel."

With each button undone, the white shirt underneath was revealed, the fabric clinging slightly to Paige’s frame, teasing Azzi. The room felt unbearably warm, and Paige was basically trembling, unsure if it was from desire or the intensity of Azzi's gaze.

Azzi stopped halfway through unbuttoning, her fingers still resting on the cardigan. "Tell me…" she whispered, leaning in close, her breath brushing against Paige's cheek. "What are you thinking about now?"

Paige’s breath hitched, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts, none of them coherent enough to form an answer. She could feel the heat of Azzi's body so close to hers, her lips barely brushing her ear with each whispered word. She couldn’t even formulate a response. She had never felt like this before, had never been the one with a loss of words.

Azzi smiled softly at Paige’s flustered expression, enjoying the way Paige’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink as she finished unbuttoning Paige’s sweater. With a deliberate slowness Azzi brushed the cardigan off Paige’s shoulders, letting it fall carelessly to the floor.

Her fingers trailed down Paige’s waist, coming to rest on her belt as she began undoing it as she watched Paige’s every reaction. Azzi's touch was firm but gentle, pulling Paige just slightly towards her, guiding them slowly toward the bed. Their eyes met, and in that moment, Azzi's gaze was soft but undeniably commanding, filled with an unspoken promise that sent a shiver down Paige’s spine.

“I want you,” Azz whispered, her voice low and laced with desire. “I want you to do whatever you want to me.” 

Paige finally found her voice, her tone softer, almost vulnerable as she asked, “Are you sure?”

Azzi didn’t hesitate. Without a flicker of doubt in her eyes, she nodded, the softness of her gaze only intensifying the fire between them.

Azzi’s confirmation was all Paige needed as she immediately reached for Azzi, pulling her into a kiss that was equal parts tender and passionate, their breaths mingling as the moment consumed them. Azzi’s fingers, still toying with Paige’s belt, moved to undo it with an effortless confidence that made Paige’s pulse quicken. 

Before she knew it, Paige was guiding Azzi backward the rest of the way toward the bed, her grip steady but filled with an unspoken urgency. Azzi smirked against Paige’s lips, letting herself be pushed down, her body melting into the mattress. 

The sight of Paige standing above her, her belt now hanging open and her eyes completely dilated with want was enough to make Azzi bite her lip, her gaze also dark. Her hand found its way to Paige’s loose belt gently tugging Paige toward her. “Don’t make me wait anymore,” she teased, her voice dripping with desire. 

Azzi watches as Paige takes off her jeans, never breaking eye contact. As soon as she’s done she’s climbing on the bed, hovering over Azzi as their lips meet again, this time softer but no less consuming, Each kiss feeling like a promise, a declaration as they become lost in one another. 

Paige’s hands moved expertly, finding the edges of Azzi’s blazer. With a gentle tug, she slipped it off Azzi’s shoulder, her fingertips brushing against Azzi's warm skin. Azzi sat up slightly to help, her eyes never leaving Paige’s as the blazer fell away, leaving her in the cropped black shirt that clung to her frame tightly. 

Paige’s breath caught for a moment as her gaze roamed over Azzi, her hands lightly tracing along the hem of her shirt. “You’re incredible,” Paige whispered, her voice tinged with awe. 

Azzi smiles at Paige’s words, her expression soft at the girl on top of her. Without saying a word, she reached up, pulling Paige toward her again, capturing her lips in a kiss that was much more intense than the last. 

The kiss grew heavier with each moment, Paige swiping her tongue across Azzi’s lips asking for access that Azzi immediately grants as the world outside the room fades away, their focus narrowing to just the two of them. Azzi’s hands roam Paige’s sides, her touch firm, sending jolts of excitement through Paige’s skin. 

Azzi breaks the kiss briefly, pushing Paige slightly back with a playful smirk. Paige looked at her, breathless, as Azzi’s hands reached for the hem of her shirt. With a smooth motion, Azzi pulled the shirt over her head, tossing it aside before meeting Paige’s gaze again who had also quickly discarded her white shirt. 

The sight of Azzi like this left Paige momentarily stunned. But before she could linger on the image too long trying to capture it for memory, Azzi pulled her back in, their lips meeting again matching the intensity right where they left off. 

Azzi began making soft noises into Paige’s mouth, each sound sending a warmth through her body. It drove Paige absolutely crazy, her restraint slipping more and more with every passing second. 

“Fuck Azzi,” Paige murmured, her voice low as she pulled back just enough to begin pressing her lips to Azzi’s neck. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” 

Azzi let out another quiet, breathy moan at the attention she was getting, her hands grabbing Paige’s waist as she tilted her head to the side granting Paige better access. “I think I do,” she whispered, her voice teasing but strained.

Paige’s lips and teeth worked along Azzi’s neck, her kisses alternating between soft and firm as she trailed down to the delicate curve where Azzi’s shoulder met her collarbone. Azzi’s hands slide up Paige’s back, pulling her impossibly closer. “Right there baby,” Azzi whispered, her voice breaking slightly as Paige’s lips and tongue lingered on a particularly sensitive spot. 

“Shit you feel so good,” Azzi breathed, her words almost inaudible but thick with emotion. 

Her voice was like music to Paige’s ears, the way it shook with every touch drove her to keep going. Paige’s lips curled into a slight smile against Azzi’s skin as she dragged her mouth lower, savoring the soft gasps and whispered encouragement Azzi continued to spill. 

“Perfect,” Azzi murmured, when Paige’s lips met her waist. Her voice melted into something low and satisfied. “You’re perfect.”

Paige groaned softly at the words, her hands tightening on Azzi’s hips as she whispered back, “You’re killing me Azzi baby.”

Azzi laughed softly, though it was laced with breathlessness. “Then don’t hold back,” she murmured, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair. “I don’t want you to.” Before Azzi could even process what she was asking for, the rest of her clothes were pulled off skilfully in a quick motion. 

Paige’s actions fueled by Azzi’s words, every whispered encouragement and breathless murmur driving her as she finally gave Azzi exactly what she wanted, pouring every ounce of her desire and affection into her touch. 

Azzi made sure Paige knew exactly how much she was enjoying every moment of it. Her voice a symphony of soft gasps, murmured praises, and loud moans, echoing through the room without a care for who might hear. 

“Fuck baby…yes just like that,” Azzi said breathlessly, her hands threading through Paige’s hair, tugging lightly as her head titled back and her hips moved to reach Paige’s movements. “Don’t stop..please, don’t stop.”

Paige just hummed as she pressed closer, her lips and hands working in perfect rhythm, completely consumed by Azzi’s responses. Each sound Azzi made spurring her on more, her own restraint dissolving as she focused on the girl beneath her. 

“You’re amazing,” Azzi murmured, her voice trembling with raw emotion, her nails grabbing Paige’s shoulders. “I need you, Paige. Just you.” 

Paige’s heart raced at the confession, her fingers growing more intense as she kissed her way back to Azzi’s lips, capturing her in a passionate kiss that left them both breathless. 

Azzi’s laughter bubbled up between gasps, a mix of pure joy and overwhelming sensation at the way Paige was touching her. “You’re going to make me lose my mind,” she admitted, her voice shaky but full of affection, her lips brushing against Paige’s as she spoke. 

Paige’s fingers continued their rhythm inside Azzi, as her voice dipped into a tone so soft yet full of conviction. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, her words wrapping around Azzi. “Every part of you, Azzi…I could get lost in your forever.” 

Azzi’s breath hitched at the sincerity in Paige’s voice, her chest rising and falling as she clung to the words. Paige didn’t stop there, leaning closer, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she added, “You’re everything to me Az. So perfect. I promise you I’m only yours.”

The praise sent so much warmth through Azzi and she arched slightly, her head tilting back as her lips parted. “Paige..” she murmured her voice trembling with emotion. Azzi’s hands found their way to Paige’s back, holding onto her as if she were her anchor, grounding her in this moment. 

Azzi’s gaze was unwavering, her brown eyes dark with passion yet soft with adoration. Paige’s blue eyes mirrored the same intensity, her pupils dilated as she took in every inch of the girl beneath her. 

“You’re so fucking incredible,” Azzi whispered, her voice breathy but firm, her fingers digging into Paige’s skin as her fingers curled perfectly inside of her. 

Azzi began trembling beneath Paige biting her lip trying to hold onto some resemblance of control, her body completely attuned to every touch, every word, the way their gaze was locked onto one another. Her breathing became uneven, her chest rising and falling as if she was trying to steady herself but kept failing. Her eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, but Paige wasn’t having it. 

“Azzi,” Paige whispered, her voice low but commanding, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she hovered over her. “Look at me,” 

Azzi’s long lashes flickered as she tried to open her eyes but the feeling was too much for her. Paige’s free hand gently cupped her jaw, her thumb brushing over her cheek as she spoke again, this time softer but just as firm. “Open your eyes, Az. I want you to look at me while you finish for me baby.” 

Azzi let out a shaky breath, her lids lifting slowly until their eyes met once more. The second their gazes locked it was like Azzi couldn’t take anymore as her mouth fell open, the sheer intimacy of the moment causing a sound to escape Azzi’s lips–louder and more unrestrained than she expected. It was uncharacteristically loud for someone usually so composed but she didn’t care. “God, baby right there... please Paige... don't���fuck please don’t stop,” every word laced with need and vulnerability before she’s throwing her head back coming undone for Paige. 

Paige smiles at the sound of Azzi's voice as she leans in and kisses her slowly, their tongue tasting every part of each other as Paige's pace slows, just enough to make Azzi's body ache with the contrast. Azzi's breath comes in shallow gasps, every inch of her skin alive with need.

Paige’s lips curled into a soft, knowing smile, her thumb still stroking Azzi’s cheek. “You did so good for me,” she murmured, her words laced with affection and pride.

Azzi’s grip tightened on Paige’s back as she was still trying to anchor herself. Her voice trembled as she replied, “You… you’re going to ruin me, Paige.”

Paige leaned closer, her lips barely brushing against Azzi’s as she whispered, “I won’t baby, I got you. I promise.”

The exchange sent another wave of shivers through Azzi, her body arching instinctively toward Paige as she started moving again, unable to resist the pull between them. She looks up at Paige pleading for something-anything more.

Paige notices the way Azzi's body trembles under her, how her breath hitches every time she curls her fingers. Her voice drops, soothing but commanding, "Breathe, baby. Just breathe."

The words themselves are almost a command, but they're gentle, like a touch trying to calm the chaos in Azzi’s chest as it rises and falls rapidly, trying to obey, but she feels the pressure inside her building again, tighter this time. Paige's thumb presses into her as she continues her movements deliberate but slow, a stark contrast to how Azzi's body wants to react.

Paige can tell Azzi’s body is going into overdrive so she starts speaking to her. "Focus on me," Paige murmurs near Azzi’s ear, her voice smooth and low, sending ripples of warmth through Azzi. "Focus on your breathing. In and out, nice and slow." She moves her hand in small, measured circles, pushing Azzi right to the edge and pulling her back. "You're doing so good Azzi. Just breathe through it, baby. Let me guide you."

Azzi's entire body is trembling, her mind racing to keep up with the ebb and flow of pleasure. It feels like it's almost too much, but Paige's steady control-her voice, her hands keeps her grounded. The way she talks to her, calm but firm, drives Azzi crazy, and all she can do is follow, surrendering her body to the rhythm Paige has set.

"Tell me how it feels," Paige says, softly. "I wanna hear you some more for me baby."

Azzi opens her mouth, but no coherent words come out-only the sound of desperate, broken breaths as she forces herself to focus on Paige, her voice, her eyes, her touch.

"Feels... feels so good, Paige baby... I can't-" Her voice cracks, the tension too much to contain, but Paige doesn't speed up. She waits, her touch still steady.

"Good just like that baby. Breathe. You're almost there," Paige whispers, coaxing Azzi through it, her own voice filled with desire and pure admiration of the girl underneath her.

Azzi looks up at Paige, her eyes glazed over with need as she’s straining to keep them open. She trembles slightly, her voice barely a whisper as she murmurs, "P I can’t— I can't take anymore."

Paige’s hand shifts to lightly wrap around Azzi’s neck, gently but firmly guiding her gaze to her eyes, making sure she doesn’t look away. She squeezes slightly, her thumb brushing across Azzi’s skin as she speaks, her voice steady but soft, full of encouragement. “Yes, you can. Just relax baby. Let me make you feel good.” 

Azzi nods, trying to steady her racing heart, her breaths shallow as she sinks into the rhythm of Paige's touch. As Paige squeezes again, Azzi’s hand moves to cover Paige’s, her fingers curling around hers, squeezing tighter as she gazes directly into Paige’s eyes. The sensation sparks something deep inside her, and without breaking eye contact, she whispers, "Harder, baby."

The words are a desperate plea, the intensity of her need clear in her voice. Paige’s eyes never leave Azzi’s as her breath hitches and the pressure builds. Azzi, feeling her body react, presses her hips closer to Paige’s movements, her chest rising and falling faster. “Fuck Paige right there, don’t stop,” Azzi breathes out, her voice low and almost frantic. “Mmm make me feel it baby, show me how much you miss fucking me.”

Paige tightens her grip, feeling Azzi’s pulse beneath her fingertips, and Azzi’s body continues to tremble with anticipation as Paige quickens her movements, fingers curling as she moves in and out of Azzi. Paige’s voice is low, almost teasing, as she murmurs, “You’re taking it so well baby fuck, you look so good under me.”

Azzi’s fingers curl tighter around Paige’s wrist, urging her on. “Yes, just like that,” Azzi whispers, her voice filled with a desire that only Paige can satisfy. “Harder, please Paige, don’t stop. You feel so good.”

Paige’s touch becomes more deliberate, the pressure firm and her movements unrelenting as Azzi’s breathing quickens. She feels the way Azzi’s body reacts, every tremble and sigh pushing her to give her more. Paige leans in, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she whispers, “You’re so gorgeous baby, so perfect…I always knew how pretty you would sound.”

Azzi moans softly, unable to stop the sounds escaping her lips, each one more desperate than the last as Paige’s gaze burns into her. For a moment, neither of them speaks. The air between them thick a shared silence where only the sound of their heavy breathing and Paige’s fingers moving in and out of Azzi remains. 

After a few more seconds, Azzi's body gives in, a burning release overtaking her body again as she arches her back off the bed. A chorus of breathless moans escaping her lips.

Paige's heart stirs at the sight as she removes her hand from Azzi’s neck immediately and without hesitation. She leans down, kissing her cheek gently as if she's taking away the last bit of tension that still clung to Azzi's body. She whispers, "God you're so beautiful Az. You mean everything to me," before leaning her lips down to Azzi's, their kiss soft, almost loving.

Azzi's eyes flutter shut, her hands coming down to wrap around Paige's head as she lets the kiss ground her. It's slow and tender and everything Azzi needs. 

Paige starts kissing down Azzi’s body, ready to keep going but Azzi’s hand shoots out, gently but firmly stopping her. Her breath comes in shaky gasps as she looks at Paige with exhaustion and a small sight of desire. “Baby…I can’t. Physically… I can’t take anymore right now, I need a break.” She says, her voice strained, the edge of exhaustion clear.

Paige’s lips curl into a teasing smirk, the challenge in her eyes only growing more playful. Before she can say anything, Azzi—still struggling to catch her breath—manages a shaky smile and jokes, “Shut up, Paige. Seriously, just… shut up for a second."

Paige’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “I’ll give you a break but I hope you can keep up because I plan on doing this all night,” she teased softly, her voice low and dripping with warmth.

Azzi responded with a quiet hum of agreement, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair to pull her back into another soft slow kiss, one that carried all the unspoken promises of the night still ahead.

…

The next morning, Paige woke up groggily, the bright sunlight streaming through the window making it impossible to stay asleep. She stirred, trying to stretch, but stopped when she felt a comforting weight pinning her down. Azzi’s body was draped halfway over her, the other half sprawled across the bed. Paige couldn’t help but smile as her gaze landed on Azzi’s face, her soft features illuminated by the morning light.

A quiet laugh escaped Paige’s lips as she realized Azzi was definitely going to blame her for letting her fall asleep without her bonnet, she could already hear the teasing tone in her voice.

As if sensing Paige’s thoughts, Azzi began to stir, a groan slipping past her lips as she shielded her eyes from the sun. “Ugh, why is it so bright?” she mumbled, echoing Paige’s earlier thoughts.

Paige chuckled softly, shifting her body to block the sunlight from hitting Azzi’s face. “Better?” she asked gently, her voice warm and teasing.

When Azzi finally looked up at her, a sleepy smile spread across her face, her dimples appearing as her cheeks flushed slightly. “Good morning, pretty girl,” Paige said, her voice soft but filled with affection.

Azzi’s smile grew wider at the compliment, but she quickly tried to hide her face against Paige’s chest. “Mmm, too sleepy,” she mumbled, her voice muffled.

Paige laughed quietly and carefully shifted out from under Azzi, earning a small, dissatisfied grumble from her. She walked over to the window, pulling the blackout curtains closed and plunging the room into a comforting darkness.

As she returned to the bed, Azzi wasted no time, tugging Paige back down and pulling her close but before Paige could settle in, Azzi leaned up to press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. Paige’s heart immediately fluttered at the tenderness of the moment, how casual Azzi was about it.

“Go back to sleep,” Azzi whispered, her words barely audible as she rested her head on Paige’s chest once more.

Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and with Azzi’s steady breaths against her, Paige felt a sense of peace she hadn’t ever experienced. Slowly, they both drifted back to sleep as Paige realized she was completely in love with the girl laying on her chest.

[knavcsblade]

haiiii! i love you works sm and i was wondering if i could request a subby!transfem!arle x f!reader oneshot wherein we ride her to oblivion? it’s totally fine if you dont wanna^^ but if you do, thank you sm!

surrender.

+18.

cw: transfem sub!arlecchino x reader. praise. dom arle turned sub. choking, if you squint.

wc: 2.0k

summary: arlecchino is awfully exhausted, so you help her unwind.

a/n: well, this was interesting to write… it’s hard for me to see arle as a sub, so i gave it a little twist, i guess... also hi! i'm back

Morning, afternoon, evening—they all blurred into the same dreadful hell for Arlecchino. Whether it was the moon or the sun high in the sky, it didn’t matter. She always found herself stuck in drawn-out journeys across Teyvat to carry out her missions.

Yes, her job as a Harbinger was practically her entire life. But if she were to be realistic, she was still human despite the powers she wielded and took pride in. It all managed to leave her drained. Weary. She would be lying if she said it didn’t drive her mad every now and then.

And here she was, after months away, dragging herself into her private study at the House. Her limbs felt like lead, every step a silent battle against gravity which threatened to pull her down. It wasn’t physical exhaustion she felt, no. She had the endurance of a warrior forged in battle. But she felt hollowed-out. Depleted beyond the bodily sense.

As Arlecchino sank into the plush material of the artfully designed chair behind her desk, which sighed and dipped beneath her weight, her shoulders slumped. She was home, at last.

She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep going like this—but she always did, out of habit more than will.

Her mind buzzed with static, thoughts coming slow and disjointed as she analyzed her performance back in a distant nation. But then, as if on cue, the door creaked open.

Her expression remained sober as you stepped inside. It was as calculating as that of a predator sizing up their prey, as it usually was. It belied the fact that she felt like a limbless creature at the moment. The sight of anyone, including yourself, interrupting her vulnerable musings… It wasn’t something she enjoyed much.

“Is there a reason you’re awake at this hour?” She asked after a stretched-out silence that threatened to consume the room.

“I was waiting for you.”

The statement made her eyebrow arch. She hadn’t exactly informed you of her arrival. Perhaps it was your own intuition that had led you to stay up, as if somehow you knew she would be returning that night.

To clear any impending questions she saw coming her way as you opened your mouth, she spoke again. Her voice was rough, unusually so as she interrupted you. “I’m doing fine.”

She gauged a singular reaction from you. A long exhale. She could already see the gears turning in your head, the way you shifted your weight from one foot to the other like you wanted to protest.

Which you did.

“Are you, now?” You asked, quiet concern lacing those three words.

Arlecchino already knew you weren’t the easiest person to deceive. No, not at all. Somehow you managed to see past her dismissals and refusals like they were nothing more than a fragile wall of glass blocking your path. As much as it served to infuriate her, it was a nice change of pace.

She studied you for some time. Those red crosses examined every last inch of skin your robe exposed, her forefinger tapping a staccato rhythm on her crossed leg. She took in the sight of blemishes, scars, and tender flesh silently. You were a pretty little thing. If she hadn’t felt so jaded, she would’ve given you what her body was already aching for.

When she met your gaze once more, her eyes narrowed. It was an imperceptible thing, barely a twitch of her eyelids. She still was unused to the way you didn’t mind defying her so brazenly. “It seems you are quite… observant,” she remarked. “I lied. I’m fatigued.”

You nodded at her admissal, already feeling triumphant deep down. As much as you wished to celebrate this win, since Arlecchino oddly revealed such things, you couldn’t. Not when you could now see it.

The woman had stamina for days—years, even. Seeing her there, sitting on her chair, gave you pause. You saw the way her eyes hooded slightly, the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed like her throat was dry, the way her chest rose and fell with each shallow breath.

You now knew you had a duty to care for her, just as she had been caring for you for months. As unconventional as this relationship of yours was, it wouldn’t be one-sided.

“I see,” you eventually said, your bare feet already beginning to lead you towards her.

She watched, transfixed, as the silky fabric rode up your thighs with each step. She was beyond caring for being discreet. As if she hadn’t had you moaning and writhing beneath her before. As if she hadn’t felt every ounce of your being under her palms and tongue in lazy mornings. There was no point in hiding her desire, and there never had been.

Once you gently guided her legs to unfold so you could straddle them, she snapped out of her daze. Your weight pressing down on her made it so her eyes flicked back to your face, all just to take in your lightly determined expression.

This was new.

Arlecchino always took the reins. She always guided, always led. This position is compromising, she thought, but she didn’t find it in herself to stop you. As uncharted as the territory was, she… liked it. As much as she could really like anything.

“What is this about?” She breathed out, her darkened hands finding their spot on the armrests of the chair the moment she felt that well-known stirring in her tailored pants.

Maybe she’d lost herself in the moment an awful lot. The tiredness she felt seeping into the back of her mind, adding the unexpected surge of want, produced a heavy cocktail in which she slowly began to drown. If you had given her an answer, she wouldn't have heard.

Not even the warmth of your hands pressed on her chest broke her out of it. Time blurred and warped right before her very eyes, and the throbbing ache she felt due to your closeness was more like a distant discomfort she couldn’t—didn’t—want to shake.

It wasn’t like anything she had experienced before. Every second of your open-mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin of her neck was divine in its own right. It was reverent. It was all she needed and never thought she’d deserve.

And then, the sudden heat enveloping her cock hit her like a stampede.

She blinked back the remnants of her trance. She could see your barely covered body, the way your robe had fallen open to reveal the tantalizing form she had worshipped inside and out several times. She saw it in a new light now.

She took in the valley of your breasts—which she had trailed her hand through like clockwork whenever she found enough time in her schedule—. The sight of your abdomen. The way in which your pussy engulfed her length and didn’t seem to want to let go anytime soon.

The faint glow of red her eyes cast upon your features only made you look more like sin and temptation rather than the human she had grown strangely fond of. And now, Arlecchino’s usually calm heart stammered in her chest for some unknown reason, like a caged bird flapping its wings and hoping to fly away.

“Don’t worry,” you murmured, voice filtering through her ears like a purr that sent a shiver down her spine. “I’ll take care of you.”

Then you moved, and her composure shattered to pieces.

The first roll of your hips was her undoing. She gasped, softly. It was barely audible to those without keen ears, but you heard it. You always did. It was as rewarding as a soft breeze on a warm summer afternoon.

As soon as your soft hands cupped her jaw just to close the distance, you gauged another reaction. A quick whimper. It was a brand new sound. A perfect, needy sound that sent a rush of desire coursing through your veins.

Arlecchino, on her end, was dissipating. She melted against your lips like ice cream under the scorching sun, like wax that sat too close to the flames and didn’t mind burning. The taste of that sweetness in your tongue was almost like an aphrodisiac to a woman like her—a sip for the parched.

Every delicious noise that escaped from her mouth, you swallowed it greedily. You bounced on her lap leisurely, which would’ve made her lose her patience on a regular day, but this wasn’t one. This was otherworldly. The feeling of your delicate fingers around her throat didn’t feel like a threat, but like the caress it truly was.

Once you picked up the pace, she moaned. Once. Twice. Then she was fully letting go. Then she was looking at the spot in which you two became one and let her hands fly to grip your hips. It was usually the controlling gesture she would give when in the throes of passion, but it was different this once. It was more relaxed.

“You’re beautiful.”

The suddenness of the comment made her gasp. Had she ever been called that? Had she ever been seen in such a vulnerable state, but didn’t feel like fighting?

She held you close, but didn’t lead. She surrendered beneath you and let you do as you pleased, because she was enjoying it. Because she could feel the knots she carried along with herself every day slowly untangling.

So there she was, eyes half-lidded as she watched her cock disappearing inside you with each movement, throwing her head back from time to time as the tip rubbed deliciously against your velvety walls. All you had to do was watch and stroke her pulse point with the pad of your thumb.

Each and every clenching sensation around her shaft made her nails dig into the flesh of your hips, merely as an instinctive reaction. She heaved, her vision blurry as she focused on the way your tits bounced so close to her face. She reached out, of course, strong hand cupping the swell of one of them before you grabbed her wrist and guided it back to your hip.

She was stunned for a beat. How dare you? She always touched. Always grabbed. But, oh my. This was thrilling. You were almost lucky she hadn’t the energy to protest.

She wouldn’t have, either way.

Even as you smirked down at her and then bit your lip to stifle a moan. Even as you leaned in to capture her lips in a searing kiss without permission once more. She held onto the pillowy globes of your ass and allowed you to suck on her tongue. If anything, it drew a sharp exhale from her.

Before Arlecchino even knew it, the usually silent study was filled with the sound of moans, deep breaths, and the creaking of the chair beneath your combined weight. She felt drops of sweat dripping from her temples and down her face, all just for them to disappear somewhere between where your palm met her neck and the column of her throat.

Then your movements grew erratic as your thighs trembled against hers, and she was already feeling like a live wire ready to snap. The coiled tension in her belly was almost unbearable, and so was yours.

All it took was just another roll of your hips. Just one singular movement that drew a sharp cry from the depths of your chest and a shaky moan from Arlecchino. Then you were spasming on top of her, and her cock sprung free from the tight grip of your cunt just for it to spurt thick ropes of cum.

Now you were fully drenched in more ways than one. Your body jerked in the aftershocks of an all-consuming orgasm that dripped onto the fabric of her pants, and her own fluids cascaded slowly down your abdomen.

It was an awfully erotic picture she wished to capture and never forget.

“Was this… your attempt at looking after me?” She breathlessly asked after a long pause.

You chuckled as your eyes flicked down to take in the mess you had created together. “Yes.”

She hummed. “Well… Nicely done.”

[wlw-imagines]

old bruises - JJ x Reader (Criminal Minds)

requested: Reader is Derek's best friend from when he was a little kid (from Chicago) and she joins his team, her and JJ get closer and reader is kidnapped and tortured by an unsub and the team is sent a live fed of said torture and JJ loses it(?) The team find r, barely clinging to life. (JJ being there when r wakes in the hospital.) - anon

a/n: an almost 8k whopper - i got carried away 

cw: torture-ish (verbal rather than physical !)

summary: Y/N, Derek Morgan’s childhood best friend from Chicago, is a new recruit of the BAU. She’s smart, intuitive, and tough - shaped by the same streets that made Morgan who he is. From the beginning, JJ and Y/N gravitate toward each other. The tension builds between them over weeks. Then everything falls apart.

Part of the May Prompts: Day One, an old bruise

It was a good day when you transferred to the BAU. It had been what you were dreaming of for a very long time - ever since Derek had come home with stories of his new co-workers, of the work he did, of the lives he saved (and occasionally, on darker nights where he needed you the most, he talked about the lives they lost too).

You could still remember how Derek had paraded you around the BAU like a proud older brother, hand on your shoulder, introducing you to everyone. The only times he’d let you out of his sight were to take a phone call from your old boss - and to pee.

Now, he stood planted in the middle of the bullpen like your personal bodyguard, arms crossed, jaw set with protective pride. He wasn’t playing around.

“Any of you hurt her,” Derek said, eyes narrowing on his teammates, specifically Emily Prentiss, “and I will bury you. Smiling.”

Emily raised a perfectly arched brow and slowly lifted both hands in mock surrender, “Jeez, okay,” she muttered. “To be fair, I don’t think it’s me you have to worry about.”

Derek frowned, brow furrowing at her cryptic tone. “What-?”

JJ cut in quickly, her voice a little too casual, trying to wedge in a question before you returned. Something had been gnawing at her all morning, and even though she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer, she found herself needing it.

“Have you two…” JJ paused, trying to sound offhand but failing entirely. “Ever… y’know, been-”

“God, no,” Derek scoffed immediately, shaking his head with a grin. His focus shifted to JJ, though he was still casting protective glances in Emily’s direction, just in case. “She’s like my little sister. We go way back. First grade. It started with a shared cookie… and ended with her trying to fight all the bullies.”

JJ’s shoulders eased, just slightly. The tension she didn’t know she was holding loosened at the edges.

Emily, ever observant, filed the entire exchange away with an amused smile, eyes flicking between JJ and the bullpen entrance.

Just as JJ’s lips started to tug into something softer, you strolled back in, still tucking your phone into your back pocket. “Is he telling you all about my heroic youth?” you grinned, swinging an arm around Derek’s broad back. It didn’t quite reach over his shoulder, but he leaned down to help you make it work.

“She’s a fighter,” Derek said fondly, ruffling your hair. “Been saving people since she was seven.”

“Oh, there must be some stories,” JJ said, eyes lighting up in a way she tried to pass off as casual curiosity.

“That particular time involved a Scooby-Doo action figure,” Derek said, voice lowering like he was about to tell a campfire tale, “and three marbles.”

You opened your mouth to elaborate, but Hotch’s voice cut through the moment, sharp and direct from across the room. “We’ve got a case.”

You sighed, mock-dramatic. “Fine. Guess you guys’ll have to wait to see my heroics in action.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Less Scooby-Doo action figures in this line of work than you’d think…”

You grinned, falling into step beside JJ as the team gathered.

“Oh yeah?” you tossed back over your shoulder. “What about marbles?”

 JJ just smiled, tight-lipped, a little brighter than before.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

You don’t notice JJ standing there at first - you were too hunched over a printout, squinting at a string of timestamps that no longer make any damn sense. The uncapped highlighter in your hand hovers mid-air, unmoving for at least ten minutes.

“You’re going to burn a hole through that page.”

The voice startles you. You jump slightly and glance up, eyes tired and blinking into focus. JJ’s standing across your desk, arms folded, watching you with a soft, amused expression.

“Sorry,” you mumble, giving her a sheepish smile. “Didn’t hear you come over.”

“That’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?” she replies, tilting her head. “You didn’t hear anything. Not even your stomach growling.”

You blink, then glance at the clock. Realize you haven’t eaten since... what, 6 a.m.? Maybe not even then.

JJ steps closer, resting her hand lightly on the desk’s edge. “Come on. Lunch. My treat.”

You wave her off, already turning back to the file. “I’m good. I just want to figure out-”

“You’ll figure it out faster with food in you.” Her voice is gentle, but there’s a steel edge tucked into it. “Don’t argue. I can be stubborn too.”

There’s something flickering behind her eyes, humour, maybe. Or something quieter. Concern, soft and steady. You study her for a moment, then sigh, letting your pen clatter onto the desk. “Fine. But only because I’m pretty sure I forgot how to read.”

The café down the street is quiet this time of day. Warm enough outside to justify a little table by the window. JJ orders a salad and tea. You order grilled cheese and soup, and your body practically sighs with relief when the food arrives.

“You always push yourself this hard?” she asks, stabbing her fork through several layers of lettuce.

“Comes with the territory,” you answer, lifting your spoon. “Chicago trains you early.”

JJ hums in response. “So does Quantico. You’re allowed to take a breath, you know.”

You glance at her over the rim of your mug. “And you’re always this nice?”

She shrugs, smiling faintly. The kind of smile that feels like it’s just for you. “Only with the people I like.”

The air shifts between you. Not awkward, but quieter, more aware. You look down at your bowl, then back at her, slower this time.

“You don’t have to keep checking in on me,” you say, softly. “I can handle myself.”

“I know.” JJ’s gaze holds yours. Steady. Sure. “But maybe I just wanted to have lunch with you.”

That stuns you more than you expect. You cover it with a sip of water, hiding the way your throat tightens slightly.

The two of you don’t talk about work again. Not until you’re almost back at the BAU, at least. But JJ notices your steps are just a little lighter. And you notice she walks a little slower than usual, like she doesn’t mind dragging the moment out just a bit longer.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

A case had just finished. You’re both exhausted. You are very aware that both of your suits are wrinkled, you have bags under your eyes. The elevator lurches slightly and JJ sways. You steady her with a light hand at her elbow, bringing your bodies closer togther under the guise of helping.

JJ doesn’t step away. Your bodies remain close. Not touching - but almost. Enough to feel the heat between you.

JJ clears her throat and lets a small smile pull at her lips, “Thanks.” 

“Always.” you reply simply, connecting your gaze with JJ’s, a genuine look passing between you.

Your vaguely aware of the elevator ding as the doors drag open to your floor. Neither of you move for a second. You don’t want to step out and break this fragile thing between the two of you.

Eventually you do.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

You’re sitting side by side, the silence of late hours settling soft around the bullpen. JJ’s got a stack of paperwork in her lap, a coffee on the go next to her, eyes scanning steadily. You’re leaned back in your chair, head tipped against the wall, eyes half-closed, one earbud tucked in and music playing low.

Without a word, you lift the spare bud and offer it to her.

JJ takes it.

A slow song hums between you. Nothing overtly romantic, just gentle. Steady. The kind of song that wraps around the edges of silence without needing to fill it.

Your head tilts slightly, shoulder brushing hers. She doesn’t move. Doesn’t tense. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment longer than necessary, long enough to feel the moment, and not just let it pass.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

JJ slides into the backseat beside you, the city lights begin blurring past outside as Emily pulls out of the car park, already distracted and in conversation with Derek, their voices a low murmur. JJ passes you a thermos, still warm in your hands. Your fingers brush in the exchange, neither of you pulls away immediately.

“Thought you could use something hot,” JJ says, voice low, a little rough with exhaustion.

Your brain short-circuits for half a second. Your eyes flick to hers, catching the line of her jaw, the way she’s half-turned toward you. A teasing quip sits on your tongue but you swallow it back. Instead, you offer a quiet smile. “I think you’re the only one who ever remembers my coffee order.” You look down at your coffee cup.

JJ shrugs, casual on the surface. But her voice is softer now when she says, “I remember a lot of things about you.”

You turn to her, slowly. She’s already looking out the window like she didn’t just say something that shifted the air between you. Like her heart isn’t thudding under her ribs in a rhythm she hopes you can’t hear.

You don’t respond.

You don’t have to.

The silence settles between you again but it’s not the same. It’s warmer. Tighter. Felt.

Later, JJ’s the one driving. Work is done for the day. You’re in the passenger seat, slouched down, hair tied back messily, eyes heavy from too little sleep and too much adrenaline. Post-case silence stretches, familiar and sacred.

And then, out of nowhere, “By the way,” JJ says, her voice cutting gently through the quiet, “you did good today.”

You let out a soft grumble, your head tipping back against the headrest. Your fingers twist together in your lap. “I kept second-guessing everything.”

“And still figured out what we missed,” JJ says, firm. “You see things differently. That’s... good. We need that.”

You glance over at her, voice low. “Thanks for having my back in there.” JJ keeps her eyes on the road. But her hand flexes slightly on the wheel. Her voice is steady when she replies.

“Of course.”

And that’s it. Simple. Sure.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

“Got it chasing a guy through a broken window,” you say, flexing your hand as you unwrap the gauze. “You should’ve seen the glass.” You mime the size of the glass that had been embedded in your own skin.

JJ doesn’t smile, not quite. Her eyes flick to the cut trailing along your forearm, sharp against your skin. She steps closer, instinctively reaching out, her fingers brushing gently over the edge of the wound.

“You should be more careful,” she murmurs, voice soft but threaded with something heavier. Her hand lingers on your shoulder, grounding, warm. The contact draws your gaze to hers, your breath catching just slightly in your throat.

For a moment, everything around you, the hum of voices, the scrape of chairs, the shuffle of papers - it all dims.

“I guess careful isn’t really in the job description, huh?” you say, voice lower now, like it’s meant just for her.

JJ’s lips curve into something faint but real. She doesn’t move her hand.

“No,” she says quietly. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to try.”

And you don’t say anything because there’s too much in your chest, too much you’d spill if you did. Instead, you nod, just once.

And she stays a second longer than she needs to.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

The bullpen is emptying, slowly. Agents dragging their feet, stretching out aching shoulders, trading low murmurs as they collect files and jackets. The latest case, a string of missing persons scattered across D.C, has kept them all running on fumes.

You sit cross-legged in your chair, a pen tapping rhythmically against your lower lip, eyes scanning the case file for the third time tonight. There’s something there. A thread you haven’t pulled yet. It hums at the edges of your mind. It’s taunting, familiar.

JJ leans against the edge of your desk, arms folded, her posture casual but her gaze sharp. There’s concern in it, softened at the edges, masked by fondness, but unmistakably there. “You’re still here?”

You glance up at her with a tired, crooked smile. “Someone’s gotta make sure we’re not missing the forest for the trees.”

JJ raises an eyebrow. “Pretty sure Hotch would say the forest can wait until tomorrow.”

“Maybe,” you murmur, eyes flicking back to the page, “but something’s not lining up. Give me a few more minutes.”

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t push. Just watches you quietly, tracking the furrow in your brow, the tension in your jaw, the way your determination has always sat just a little too heavy on your shoulders. “You push yourself too hard,” she says, not quite scolding.

You don’t look up. “And you care too much.”

“Not possible.”

There’s a pause, barely a second but it stretches. You lift your gaze, and for a flicker of a moment, it’s all right there. Everything unsaid. Everything hovering on the edge of maybe.

“Go home, JJ.” Your voice is quiet. “I’ll be right behind you.”

She hesitates. Wants to argue. To stay. To insist you come with her. But she knows that look in your eyes too well, halfway to a breakthrough, halfway to letting someone in.

So instead, she nods.

“Don’t stay too late,” she says, voice soft. Then, more tentative, “Text me when you get home?”

You smile, distracted but sincere. “Promise.”

JJ lingers by the door. Just for a second longer. Just long enough to turn back once more. But you’re already bent over the file again, completely absorbed.

She leaves.

And the silence settles in.

Overhead, the lights hum. One flickers.

You turn another page.

In the end, you don’t text her. Not because you’re one to break a promise or anything. It’s just that you never make it home.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

JJ’s the first to arrive the next morning.

It’s habit, mostly. A quiet building. A few minutes of stillness before the day starts. But something is off the moment she pulls into the parking garage.

Your car is still there, in the same place it always is.

At first, she tells herself it’s nothing. Maybe you came in early. You’re always like that, last to leave, first to arrive. Dedicated to a fault. It’s possible.

But when she steps off the elevator into the bullpen, the lights are still off. The air feels untouched. No fresh coffee. No rustle of papers. Just the low hum of the building, waiting.

JJ flicks on a lamp and glances at your desk. It is still messy. Still lived in. Still yours. 

She checks her phone. Nothing. No messages. No text. Not even the ‘made it home’ she was promised.

Her stomach tightens.

Hotch arrives next. Then Rossi, trading tired greetings. Derek follows a few minutes later, coffee in hand, smile halfway to forming, until JJ turns to him.

“Have you heard from Y/N?” Derek blinks. His face shifts almost immediately.

“She was still here when I left,” he says, frowning now, all trace of ease gone. “Said she wanted to go over the local files again.” He shakes his head. “So like her. Can’t let anything go. Too damn stubborn for her own good.”

JJ doesn’t smile. “She told me she’d text me when she got home.”

Derek pauses, then meets her eyes more carefully this time. But he doesn’t say anything.

They check the security logs. Your badge never swiped out. Your jacket is still draped over the back of your chair. The elevator cam shows you at around midnight - shoulders tense, files in hand, rushing out of the building.

But you never got into your car.

Garcia’s called in from home. She’s already pulling ATM camera footage, hospital intakes, traffic cams, anything. JJ stands frozen at your desk, eyes locked on the half-full mug you left behind. It went cold a long time ago. Like everything else in the room.

“I should’ve stayed,” she says quietly.

No one responds.

Because now they all feel it - the pull of dread sinking into their chests.

You didn’t leave. You’re not coming back. You’re missing.

And the worst part?

Whatever you saw in those files... no one else saw it.

Within seconds, the team is moving. Files spread. Names divided. Leads checked and re-checked. They won't stop until they find you.

But JJ's still standing by your desk, fingers hovering above your coffee mug like touching it might anchor her. Her jaw clenches. She's not going to let this be the last place you were seen.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

It’s been sixteen hours since this nightmare began.

The clock ticks past midnight. The bullpen buzzes with low voices and clacking keys, but no one’s pretending they’re close to anything. They’re exactly where they were this morning, maybe even worse.

JJ’s nerves are threadbare. Her shoulders are locked, muscles screaming from tension. She’s lost count of how many times someone’s told her to go home. If one more person tries again, she might scream. Or cry. Or both.

She paces now, tightly, arms crossed, phone clutched in her hand like she’s waiting for it to ring. She knows it won’t. At least not with the name she aches to see.

Across the room, Derek leans forward on a table, fingers steepled beneath his chin. JJ hasn’t seen him this on edge in years. His knee bounces restlessly. His jaw is tight enough to crack. He’s going through the same hell she is. Of course he is. He loves you. And JJ understands that, more than she ever admitted out loud.

A sudden shout slices through the static hum of tension.

“Guys, we’ve been sent a link!”

The bullpen shifts all at once. Chairs scrape. People stand. Every agent in the room joins together toward the screen. JJ doesn’t remember moving, just that she’s suddenly at the front, heart hammering.

The monitor flickers. Static. Then, a feed stabilizes. Low-res. Cold. A basement.

The camera’s mounted high in the corner, angled down. The walls are cement, grey and sterile. There’s a metal pole in the background, some pipes overhead. No windows. No light but a single bulb swaying slightly overhead.

You’re tied to a chair in the middle of it.

JJ’s stomach plummets. Her breath catches sharp in her chest.

You’re slouched, unmoving. Your face is bruised, one eye swelling shut. Blood is crusted at your temple. Your arms are behind the chair, shoulders tense, wrists bound so tightly the skin looks torn.

You aren’t moving. Not much. Please let that mean you’re conserving energy. Please. Not anything else.

Then, offscreen, a man’s voice, calm and measured. Too calm.

“Do you know why this is happening, Y/N?” You don’t answer. Don’t move. JJ sees your throat twitch, just a swallow. Her heart leaps at the tiny sign of life.

“I'm protecting you really. From them. They left you. Didn’t they?” JJ’s jaw locks. She watches you, not the screen, like she can will you to react, to hold on. She memorizes every inch of you, every twitch and flinch.

Your jaw clenches. Barely.

She sees it.

“Even her. The blonde one. JJ. She’s not coming for you. Not really.” JJ stands stock-still. Her arms are wrapped around herself now, tight and unforgiving. Her nails dig into the soft skin of her sides. Her throat burns. But her eyes don’t move. “She said all the right things, didn’t she? Nice things. But where is she now?”

And then-

You lift your head. Barely. Your voice is raw and cracked, but it cuts through like a blade. “You talk too much.”

JJ exhales sharply. Her lips twitch for just a second, like her heart’s trying to smile through the ache. But it doesn’t last. The unsub appears then, just a blur of movement as he storms into frame and strikes you hard across the face. You reel sideways, nearly tipping the chair. Another blow, this time a kick to the ribs. You groan, body curling in on itself.

JJ flinches violently. Her feet shift like she might run through the screen.

Across the room, Derek turns. His hands clench into fists, and he slams one onto the nearest desk. The unsub keeps speaking, voice dripping with cruelty. “You think you’re strong. But you’re alone. You’ve always been alone.”

JJ’s hands are trembling now. She forces them into fists, holds them tight at her sides to stop it. Hotch steps up beside her, his voice low. “JJ… maybe you shouldn’t-”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.

Hotch nods, backing off. He knows that voice. A voice formed, not of duty, but of love. He knows it, even if JJ hasn’t voiced it.

The unsub walks back into frame. He leans close behind you. JJ leans forward too, unconsciously mirroring the motion, like she can block him with her body.

“She won’t save you.”

JJ shakes her head softly, whispering like you can hear her. “No. I’ve got you. You just need to hold on.”

The unsub’s voice drops lower, colder. “Derek left you too, didn’t he?” Derek storms back toward the screen, face pale and drawn. JJ can see him processing, hating himself. But she doesn’t take her eyes off you.

“Your best friend. Your brother. Morgan. He got out. Left the streets behind… left you behind.” Your fingers twitch against the ropes. JJ notices. Her breath hitches. “He joined the BAU. Made something of himself. What did he do when you showed up?” He knelt down, face close to yours, voice dangerously soft, “He tried to send you back. Didn’t want you there. Not really.”

You shift again. This time, it’s not fear. It’s anger. JJ can feel it through the screen, like a current building in your body. The words hit somewhere you weren’t ready for. That makes them dangerous.

You’re burning.

JJ’s eyes flick to Hotch. “He’s targeting her worst fears. Isolation. Abandonment.” Hotch nods grimly.

“That’s how he breaks them.”

“Not her,” JJ replies, steady now. “Not this time.”

The unsub circles again. Leans down one more time, venom thick in his words. “And why don’t we return to that girl of yours. JJ? She’s just being polite. That’s what she does, right? The soft voice. The smile. Pretends to care. But she doesn’t. You’re a liability to them.” His voice raised in anger, “To her.”

You raise your head. It’s slight, but purposeful. Blood streaks your chin. Your eyes are red, swollen. But they’re clear. Defiant.

“You don’t know her.”

The unsub goes still.

JJ goes still too, her chest aching. You defended her. Even now. Even here.

“She left you.” The Unsub shouted, enunciating each word.

JJ’s voice cracks, but she says it again, louder this time. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Hotch doesn’t reply. He just walks away. Derek remains beside her. He reaches out, placing a steady hand on her shoulder. His voice is thick.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it.” A pause. “You love her.”

JJ’s eyes are locked on the screen. Her heart’s already there.

“I never said it. I should have.”

Derek squeezes her shoulder gently.

“You will.”

A sharp voice cuts in from the back.

“We might have found something!”

JJ turns slightly, still holding the screen in her periphery. Her pulse pounds louder than the noise around her.

She’s not moving. Not yet. Not until she’s bringing you home.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

JJ can hardly remember the moments leading up to the cabin. The drive was a blur of flashing sirens, shouting over comms, the sound of her own pulse thundering in her ears. She must have convinced Hotch she was okay to go. Or maybe she hadn’t. Maybe he’d just seen the look in her eyes and known there was no stopping her.

Maybe he forgot to stop her.

She doesn’t care. She’s here now. And nothing, nothing, is going to keep her from getting to you. From telling you the things she should have said a long time ago.

The morning is still barely formed. A little after 5AM, the sky is a muted navy, just beginning to pale at the edges. The forest is thick with shadows, trees black against the dawn. The agents’ breath fogs in the cool air. The beams of swinging flashlights cut through the dark.

JJ is running. Branches scrape against her coat, twigs snap underfoot, but she doesn’t feel any of it. The cabin is ahead. She sees it between the trees - a squat, rotting structure. It looks like nothing. But she knows.

Derek is beside her. Wordless. Focused. Ready.

Someone shouts, “Go! Go!” and a boot hits the door. It crashes inward.

They flood inside, guns drawn, eyes scanning.

JJ sees him. Before her brain even catches up, before her body knows what to feel. The man who took you. He stands in the center of the room like he’s been waiting. Like this was the plan all along. And he smiles.

He really smiles. It’s the kind of grin that turns her stomach.

Then, slowly, he reaches his hands behind his back.

“Drop the weapon! Hands where I can see them!” JJ yells, her voice cracking at the edges. There’s a tremor in it, rage, fear, desperation, and maybe that’s why he pauses. Just for a second. Long enough.

Someone else moves. A tackle. The weapon clatters to the floor. The unsub goes down hard. There’s shouting, metallic clinks of cuffs.

But JJ’s already gone.

She shoves past him, to the stairs leading down into the cold basement. She barely even sees him now.

She sees you.

And nothing else matters.

You’re suspended against the far wall, arms strung up above you, your weight sagging against the restraints. You’re bloodied, bruised, barely conscious. JJ stops cold for half a second, her heart threatening to split in two.

Then she’s moving, running.

She reaches up, fingers scrambling to undo the ropes, breath shaking. Your body is limp against her, toes just barely brushing the floor. She catches you as the restraints fall away, cradles you in her arms, lowering you gently.

“See? See, you're okay, right?” she’s saying, her voice breaking as she shifts to support your head, brushing hair away from your forehead with trembling fingers. “Y/N, come on, baby. Show me you're okay. Please.”

For a second, there’s nothing. Her blood runs cold.

Then, you groan. A wheezy, painful sound, but it’s you.

“Told you,” you rasp, barely audible, “being careful… not in the job description.”

JJ lets out a breath that’s half a laugh, half a sob. Her hands slide down to cup your face, her thumbs brushing over the dirt and blood.

“You’re an idiot,” she murmurs back, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your temple, lingering. “You don’t get to be brave. Not like this. You just need to come home.”

Your voice is a whisper now, but it still reaches her.

“I am... home. Here. With you.”

JJ’s throat tightens. She blinks rapidly, pulling you in closer.

“We’re going to get you help. Medics are on the way. Just... just stay with me, okay? Eyes on me. Right here.”

Your eyelids flutter, struggling to stay open.

“And you?” you ask, voice thin. “You’ll… stay?”

She presses her forehead to yours, voice fierce and tender all at once.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Behind her, Derek’s voice breaks through, hushed and full of relief.

“She’s alive?”

JJ doesn’t turn around. She keeps her eyes on you, one hand clutching yours, the other smoothing over your hair.

“She’s okay.”

And maybe it’s not true yet.

But she’s here. And she’ll make it true.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

The room is quiet, too quiet, except for the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. It’s sterile, cold in a way that has nothing to do with temperature.

You’re lying in the hospital bed, broken, bruised, but safe. For now. There's a fresh IV taped to the inside of your arm, the skin around it is still raw. Sterile sheets are tucked tight around you, and the scratch of gauze across your temple itches every time you shift.

You stare at the ceiling. Blank. Somewhere between exhausted and numb. Everything hurts, but it’s far away, like your body belongs to someone else.

A chair creaks softly beside you.

JJ sits there, still in her field clothes. Her bulletproof vest unzipped, dirt streaked across her cheek, hair pulled hastily back into a low ponytail. Her elbows rest on her knees, hands clasped tightly between them like she’s praying, though her eyes never close. Her coat lies on the floor nearby, twigs and leaves still clinging to the fabric.

She hasn’t left since they brought you in.

“You’re still here,” you croak out, voice raw and gravelly.

JJ’s head snaps up like she'd been holding her breath, and the second her eyes meet yours, her lips curve into a small, tired smile. “Told you I wouldn’t leave.”

You try to smile, too. It barely twitches at the corners of your mouth. Your throat works as you swallow. “You didn’t have to stay,” you rasp, gaze drifting toward the window. “I know it’s late. Or early. Or whatever…”

Your brow furrows. You’ve lost track of time. Of everything.

JJ sits back a little, expression unwavering. “You think I could sleep not knowing if you were okay?”

You blink, surprised, once more, by the steel in her voice.

“Everyone’s told me to go home,” she adds. “Hotch, the nurses… hell, even Derek. Don’t you start on me now.” Her tone softens just slightly, but the weight remains. “I thought you’d have my back.”

You let out a quiet exhale. You turn your head to look at her, slowly, stiffly, everything aching.

“Of course I do.” But there’s something behind your eyes. Something distant. JJ sees it instantly. You turn away, staring at the wall now, brows drawing together.

“Talk to me,” JJ says, voice still gentle, but more sure now. A command wrapped in concern.

Your lips part. It takes effort to speak. “He said a lot of things, you know,” you murmur. “About Derek. About… you.”

The air seems to shift. Heavy again.

Your eyes lock on hers, tentative but searching.

“He said I don’t belong. That I’m a liability.”

JJ goes still. Her jaw sets, shoulders tensing just slightly.

Then she leans forward again, eyes blazing, not with anger, but with fierce, protective conviction. “Then he’s just as much a liar as he is a monster.”

You hesitate. “You sure? ‘Cause I’m not exactly textbook BAU…”

JJ’s face softens just slightly, but there’s conviction in her voice. “Textbook agents don’t survive what you did,” she says, her voice growing more intense with every word. “You held on. You stayed strong. You fought. That doesn’t make you a liability. That makes you a warrior.”

She catches herself, breathing in deep, reining in the emotion that’s starting to creep into her tone.

“You being here doesn’t weaken us. It makes us stronger. You make us stronger.” Her fingers curl slightly against yours. “You make me stronger.”

Your breath catches. You blink rapidly, trying to laugh, but it gets caught halfway in your throat.

JJ notices, and her hand moves up to brush lightly against your cheek, carefully avoiding the bruises. Her touch is soft. Grounding.

“Hey,” she murmurs, “you don’t have to be tough right now. You don’t have to prove anything. Not to me. Not to anyone.”

Your eyes flutter shut for a second. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“I just wanted to see you alive.”

The words hang in the air between you.

Then, JJ swallows. Her grip tightens just slightly.

“To tell you-” she starts, but breaks off, breath catching. “You scared me,” she says, finally. “And I don’t scare easy.”

You swallow hard. “That’s… that’s what you wanted to tell me?”

She huffs out a breath, part bitter laugh, part confession. “No.” Her gaze drops to where your hands are entwined, then lifts back to your face. “I watched that footage,” she says softly. “You tied up. Hurt. Bloody. And I didn’t blink. Not once. Because if I blinked, I might miss something. Anything. A sign that you were still fighting.”

You flinch, a trace of guilt shadowing your face. “You shouldn’t have watched that,” you whisper.

“I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t leave you alone.” Another long silence stretches between you. Heavier than the last. But this one isn’t from fear. It’s full of everything else. The words you both haven’t said.

You clear your throat softly. “I was scared too.”

JJ lets out a breath. It is long and slow, as though your honesty cracked something in her.

Her thumb strokes over your knuckles. She’s quiet for a beat. Then:

“I’ve loved you,” she says, voice hushed. “For a little while now. I didn’t say anything because... God, I don’t even know. Timing? Fear?” A bitter laugh. “Maybe I thought you already knew.”

“I think I did,” you whisper. Your eyes are glassy, but your voice is steady. “I just… didn’t let myself believe it.”

The tension between you slowly begins to melt. Not completely. But enough.

Outside the room, a familiar figure leans quietly against the doorframe. Derek Morgan watches with his arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. Then, slowly, he breaks into a small proud smile.

He shakes his head with a quiet exhale.“About damn time.”

xxxxxxxxxxxx

You wince as you limp down the corridor toward the bullpen, each step sending a dull throb through your body. Every inch of movement takes effort. You're immensely grateful for the elevator. Just the thought of climbing stairs makes your stomach turn. Even pressing the right button felt like a battle. But you push forward, jaw clenched, focusing on anything but the pain.

You're barely halfway down the hall when a familiar figure slips beside you. JJ. Two coffees in hand, and an expression of gentle exasperation mixed with something much softer, something closer to awe.

She gives you a once-over. “Where does it hurt?”

You smirk faintly. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

JJ’s lips twitch, but she doesn’t rise to the bait. “You shouldn’t be in.”

“I was going crazy sitting at home,” you reply with a shrug, or what passes for one. “Besides, I missed the paperwork. Thought I’d come back for all the fun.”

JJ raises an eyebrow and presses one of the coffee cups into your hand. “You’re lucky I brought you this.” She gives you a sidelong look. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Completely.” Then you pause. “Okay, well... not completely, but-”

“You should’ve stayed home.”

“JJ, I’m fine,” you insist, even as your steps falter slightly. “Just a few bruises.”

“You do remember I saw you, right?” Her voice dips, softer now. “I know what he did.”

“Just old bruises,” you say quickly.

“Oh, and a few dozen stitches, huh? No big deal.” She rises to your sarcasm but doesn’t give in.

You grin through the ache. “Exactly.”

JJ sighs. “You’re an idiot.”

“Doesn’t that just make you fall for me even more?”

“Hmm, no. Surprisingly, idiocy isn’t a selling point.”

“Oh come on,” you tease, trying to keep the air light, “normally this roguish charm works pretty well on the ladies.”

Her expression changes then. One that is sharper, more serious. She stops walking. “I saw what you went through,” she says, voice low. “I went through it with you. And I don’t need to recover from that by laughing it off. I need you to be honest with me.” Her eyes meet yours, unwavering. “You don’t have to pretend with me. Not now. Not ever.”

You hesitate. For a second, your shoulders drop, and the performance slips.

“Noted,” you murmur. “So the whole ‘I’m fine, tough as ever’ act is never going to work on you?”

Derek appears at your side and snorts. “You’re about as fine as a cracked sidewalk, Y/N. Sit down before you fall down.” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, already guiding you toward your desk chair.

“I’ll sit when you admit I was always faster than you.” You grin, trying to straighten up, to prove you’re okay, slipping back into the old bravado.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles. “You were fast, whatever. Still dumb as hell trying to play hero over here, Frankenstein.”

“Oh, I get it,” you add, nodding at his joke, gesturing to the various stitches, “very clever—but just so you know, it’s Frankenstein’s monster—”

“Miss Know-It-All,” he groans, rolling his eyes. “We both know I copied all your English homework in school. Don’t start showing off now.”

You gasp with mock outrage. “Wow. I get tortured and this is the thanks I get?”

As he guides you into the chair, shaking his head with a chuckle, you smile.

Or try to.

The second you're sitting and his back is turned (he’s off to find some funny casework he’s been writing up and wants to show you) your expression crumples. Just a little. You exhale slowly, one hand drifting unconsciously to your side, fingers grazing the worst of your healing wounds.

JJ notices instantly, she’s been at your side the whole time, hovering lovingly. Her smile fades as she watches you.

“So, about that whole honesty thing…”

You don’t meet her eyes. “God, I know, JJ. It’s just… I hate being weak.”

JJ steps closer, perching on the corner of the desk nearest to you. There’s no judgment in her face. Just warmth. Understanding.

“You’re not weak,” she says firmly. “You got hurt. And instead of giving yourself time to heal, you’re pretending you’re okay because you’re scared of slowing down.”

“If I slow down,” you admit quietly, “I feel it. And if I feel it, I…” Your voice catches. “I remember too much.”

JJ doesn’t flinch. She just nods, like she’s known this all along.

“Then let me help you carry it,” she says, her hand finding yours again, anchoring you. You swallow thickly, emotion rising like a tide. Your eyes flick to hers, glassy now.

“I don’t want to be alone,” you whisper, squeezing her hand lightly.

“You’re not,” JJ says, steady as a vow.

She moves to the chair beside you and gently takes the coffee from your hand, slipping her arm around your shoulders with practiced care. You don’t resist. You let yourself lean into her, just a little, just enough.

“Come on,” she says. “You can heal at my place. No more pretending.”

“You sure?”

JJ smiles, this time soft and certain. “I’ve been sure. About this. About you. For weeks.”

Together, you stand (slowly) and start walking out of the bullpen (even slower). The world outside is still too bright, too loud... but for now, this is enough. You. Her. Moving slowly. Quietly. Together.

As you near the door, you glance back over your shoulder with a tired grin. Derek calls out your name, knowing, under his own bravado, that you’re still piecing yourself together.

“Don’t think this gets you out of paperwork forever, tough girl,” he warns with a wink.

“Just long enough to make you miss me,” you call back.

“Yeah, yeah. Next time, come back a little less mashed up, would you?” Derek mutters.

JJ’s breath hitches. She squeezes your side lightly.

He continues, softer now, “You gotta take care of yourself.” A pause, a glance at the woman next to you. “And let others take care of you, too.”

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Sunlight spills into the kitchen, soft and hazy. The world feels like it’s still waking up. Outside, birds call faintly, and somewhere nearby, coffee mugs clink gently.

JJ stands at the stove in a worn hoodie and leggings, hair pulled back in a messy bun. She moves quietly, instinctively, with one hand cradling a mug of coffee, the other flipping something in a pan.

Behind her, there was the shuffle of bare feet. She doesn’t need to turn around. “You’re up early.”

Your voice is still thick with sleep, a rasp clinging to the edges. “Didn’t mean to be. Your bed’s too comfortable.” You wrap your arms around her and press a kiss to her shoulder. “Too quiet, though.”

JJ turns to look at you, wrapped in the blanket the two of you slept with, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands. Your hair is a mess. Your eyes are still a little puffy. You look soft. Real.

She smiles. “I was going to bring you breakfast. You’re supposed to be milking this for all it’s worth.”

“I’m not so great at the whole ‘let someone take care of me’ thing,” you admit, easing away from her and settling into a chair, your body still aching. Less than before but always there.

JJ follows, plate in hand. “Lucky for you, I’m great at ignoring that.”

You chuckle as she slides the plate in front of you, scrambled eggs, toast, sliced fruit. Simple. But it feels like more than that.

“You didn’t have to do all this.” Your shoulders tense, caught between gratitude and guilt.

“I know,” she says softly. “I wanted to.” And with that, the guilt dissolves, “You take care of everyone else,” she adds. “Let me do it for you. Just for a while.”

You look down at the plate, blinking a little too fast. Your voice, when it comes, is barely above a whisper.

“It’s just... he said I was forgettable. That I’d disappear, and no one would even notice.”

JJ doesn’t speak right away. She steps around the counter, slipping her arms gently around you from behind, chin resting on your shoulder, mirroring how you’d held her earlier.

“I noticed,” she says. “Every minute you were gone. I couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t breathe.”

You lean back against her. Let your eyes flutter shut. “And while I’m being honest,” you murmur, “I was afraid I’d never see you again. That I’d never get this. Just… a quiet morning. With you.”

JJ presses a kiss to your ear. “You’re not going anywhere,” she whispers. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” She leans forward, kissing your cheek. “And I do,” she adds, warm and certain. “I have lots to say about it.”

A quiet beat.

“JJ?”

She moves to sit beside you, her hand trailing to rest gently on your thigh. She touches you often, grounding you, and you're grateful for it.

“Yeah?”

“I’m so glad I have you.”

JJ’s smile softens. “I’m glad I have you too.”

xxxxxxxxxxxx

The sun is low now, casting warm amber light across the yard, painting long shadows that sway with the breeze. The air is soft, still holding onto the last of the day’s warmth. You and JJ sit side by side on the porch steps, her thigh pressed gently against yours. The silence between you is companionable, comfortable in a way it wasn’t just a week ago. You’ve settled in what is close to a domestic life over the past week. Her hand rests near yours on the step, not quite touching, but close enough to count.

You’ve taken time to heal, together. Just the two of you. No work involved.

The back gate creaks open.

“Well damn,” a familiar voice calls, all swagger and affection. “So you are alive.”

Derek Morgan’s grin is unmistakable as he strolls in, flanked by the rest of the BAU. Garcia’s bright hair catches the light, Rossi’s hands are caught in his pockets, and Spencer lingers just behind, his smile small but sincere.

Your head jerks toward them, breath catching. You laugh, a sound halfway between a choke and a sigh of relief. JJ squeezes your shoulder and rises, giving you a knowing look before slipping quietly inside, letting the team filter past her into the house. She doesn’t need to say anything. She knows you need this moment.

Derek takes his time walking up to you. There’s mischief in his eyes, sure, but it’s softened around the edges. Protective. Grateful. His hands are in his pockets, but his posture is open and grounded.

“Took you long enough,” you say, smirking through the emotion building behind your ribs.

“Traffic was hell,” he shoots back. “Also had to emotionally prepare for how bad you probably smell, cooped up, recovering.”

You roll your eyes, but Derek’s smile falters as he gets a better look at you, really sees you. You're not quite the same. There’s still pain in your eyes, exhaustion in the lines of your face. But there’s colour in your skin again. Strength, even in your stillness. A light that wasn’t there before.

He closes the last few feet and pulls you into a hug. Not a tentative one. Not the kind people give when they’re worried you’ll break. A real one. Fierce. Familiar.

You melt into it, letting your arms wrap tight around him, clinging a second longer than you mean to.

“You okay?” you ask, voice low now.

You pull back just enough to look at him. He shakes his head, smiling, “I should be asking you that.”

You snort, eyes scanning him again. “I’m good. Better now.” You pause, hesitate, before deciding you have to tell him and tell him now, “JJ and I…” You pause. “We’re… something.”

Derek grins. “Oh, I knew that a long time ago.” He nudges your side. “Neither one of you subtle types could hide it if you tried. Big brother instincts don’t lie.” He softens, “She’s brought you back to being you over this past week. I never thought that was just a friendship.”

You laugh, eyes glinting. “Rumor has it you had a pool going. You were targeting Em.”

“Please.” He waves it off. “Look at you... traumatized, stubborn, full of backtalk. It’s like we never left Chicago.”

“Don’t forget emotionally repressed and slightly feral.”

“Mmm. Only slightly?” He tilts his head toward the house, then back to you. “She takes good care of you, though. Right?”

You nod, gaze softening. “Always did. Even when I didn’t know how to let her.”

Derek’s smile fades into something more heartfelt. His brow furrows slightly, like he’s holding back the weight of everything that could’ve been lost.

“You scared the hell outta all of us,” he says quietly. “You know that, right?”

Your throat tightens, but you meet his gaze. “I was scared too. I thought... I thought I’d disappear, and no one would notice.”

His expression hardens, gentle but fierce. “Hey. Look at me.”

You do.

“We’re family. We don’t let each other go out like that. You didn’t disappear. You lit up a goddamn flare. JJ nearly burned the world down getting to you.”

That breaks something open inside you, and you laugh, wiping quickly at your eyes.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “She’s like that.”

Derek pulls you back into a brief hug, one hand ruffling your hair before he releases you. “You deserve this. Her. All of it. You always did.”

You smile, the kind that sticks. The kind that means something.

“You’re gonna make me cry again, man.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t go soft on me now,” he teases. “You still owe me a drink when you’re done milking the whole ‘recovering hostage’ angle.”

From inside the house, JJ’s voice rings out: “Wine? Both of you?”

The sound of laughter follows, Garcia’s high and bright, Spencer’s soft and amused, Rossi muttering something about finally opening the good bottle.

“I’m in,” Derek calls back. “We both are.”

He throws an arm around your shoulders, tugging you close as you both head toward the door. You lean into him for a step longer than needed but he doesn’t mind. He just squeezes your shoulder.

“You got your people now, sweetheart,” he says, nodding toward the house. “Don’t forget that.”

Your hand brushes the doorway as you step inside. Warmth, light, voices. A second chance waiting on the other side.

You smile, real and certain. “I won’t ever forget.”

[aventurineswife]

imagine wife reader getting jealous when her and jiaoqiu dan heng and avens 2 years old old daughter says dada before mama

First Words, Forever Bonds

Tags: Jiaoqiu x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Female/Wife!Reader, Family, Parenting, Jealousy, First Words, Love and Affection, Emotional Growth, Supportive Partners, Tender Moments, Quiet Reflection.

Warnings: Emotional themes (jealousy, self-doubt), Mild tension in relationship dynamics, Mild angst (resolved with reassurance).

It was a moment you had been waiting for—one you had dreamed about since the day you found out you were pregnant with your little girl. You and Jiaoqiu had created a life together, nurtured it, and now, as the days passed, the excitement of witnessing her first word filled you both with joy.

The morning was calm, with the sun gently spilling through the windows of your shared home. You held your daughter in your arms, softly rocking her as Jiaoqiu prepared breakfast in the kitchen. His usual smile was absent today, replaced by a soft but distant expression as he worked. You could tell something was weighing on his mind, but you didn't press him on it; you were focused on the tender moment before you.

"Say mama," you cooed, pressing a kiss to your daughter's forehead. She giggled, her little hands grabbing at your face as you smiled at her, but she remained silent.

"Say mama," you repeated, your voice filled with hope. This was your moment, the one where she'd finally say the word you longed to hear.

Jiaoqiu paused from the kitchen, turning his head toward you with a warm, silent smile, despite the sadness in his eyes. He never voiced it, but you knew the emotional burden he carried. The heartbreak, the self-doubt, the internal scars he tried to hide behind his gentle and strategic nature.

Your daughter’s giggle grew louder, her tiny mouth opening and closing as she tried to mimic sounds. But what happened next caught you by surprise.

"Dada," she said clearly, her voice soft and innocent, but there was no mistaking it. The word she spoke was not what you had expected. Not "mama."

You froze, a strange, sharp feeling in your chest. The room felt suddenly heavy, and you swallowed thickly. You tried to smile, tried to reassure yourself, but there was a small knot forming in your stomach. The jealousy was unbidden, unexpected. Why had she said "Dada"? Was it because of Jiaoqiu's ever-present warmth or his ability to always make others feel seen, even when he didn’t fully see himself?

You turned to glance at him. He was still watching you both, a gentle smile on his lips as he seemed completely content with the situation. But there was something in the way he held his hand over his heart—a subtle, tender gesture that told you more than words ever could.

"You heard that, Jiaoqiu?" you asked, your voice soft, your tone catching just slightly.

His face softened, a hint of emotion flashing in his eyes, though he quickly concealed it behind a slight tilt of his head. "I did," he replied gently, stepping toward you both. He reached out with his hands, carefully adjusting his grip on the counter before slowly making his way over to you. Though his movements were cautious due to his blindness, the tenderness in his actions never wavered. His attention to your daughter remained unwavering as he reached out to her, his face lighting up with pride and joy at her development.

You bit your lip. You didn't want to show it. You didn't want to admit it. But the sting of jealousy, of that slight pain in your chest, was there. And you couldn’t shake it.

Jiaoqiu reached out, his hand grazing the soft skin of your daughter’s cheek as she beamed up at him. He didn’t need to see her face to know she was proud of herself. He didn’t need his vision to feel the bond between them grow, stronger than ever.

"I guess she’s growing up," you murmured, your heart both aching and swelling with love. You wished you could feel only the joy of the moment, but your emotions were tangled—so deeply tangled in a way you had never expected.

Jiaoqiu leaned down and pressed a kiss to your daughter’s forehead, a soft breath escaping him. He straightened slowly, his lips brushing your cheek in a loving, silent gesture. "It’s a good sign," he whispered, as if reading your mind. "She said ‘Dada,’ but that doesn’t mean she loves you any less."

You closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you. Jiaoqiu always knew what to say, even when you couldn’t express it yourself.

But in that moment, you realized that it didn’t matter. Your daughter had spoken her first word, and it was a word that bonded her even more to both of you. There was no need to compete for love—there was plenty to go around, and you were all wrapped in the warmth of it.

"Maybe next time she’ll say ‘Mama,’" you smiled softly, your jealousy fading away as you held your daughter closer to your chest.

Jiaoqiu smiled too, a quiet promise in his eyes. "I’m sure of it."

The soft morning light streamed through the windows of the Astral Express, casting long shadows on the polished floors. The train was peaceful today, a rare moment of calm amidst the usual hustle and bustle. Dan Heng stood near the cockpit, keeping watch over the crew’s safety, his stoic demeanor as steadfast as ever.

You were sitting with your daughter, the two of you in the lounge area, quietly playing with her toys. She was sitting in front of you, giggling and reaching for the blocks you had set up in a tower. You smiled down at her, a tenderness in your gaze. She was growing fast, and every day brought new surprises.

"Say mama," you whispered, holding up a small doll in front of her. Your heart swelled with affection. You had been waiting for this moment for what felt like forever—the day your daughter would say her first word.

But she only stared at the doll, blinking with wide eyes as her tiny hands fumbled to grab it.

You repeated the words again, this time more softly, coaxing her with your gentle voice. "Mama."

"Say mama."

From the corner of your eye, you saw Dan Heng enter the room, his presence a quiet one. He always seemed to slip in unnoticed, a shadow in the background, observing everything around him with his usual reserved expression.

Your daughter seemed to notice him then, her eyes lighting up. She reached out to him, a bright, innocent smile on her face.

"Dada," she said, her tiny voice clear and sweet.

The word echoed in your mind, the small knot in your stomach tightening as you heard it. "Dada," she repeated, beaming at Dan Heng.

You froze, momentarily stunned. Your heart skipped a beat. Was it jealousy? Perhaps. There it was, a fleeting sting of something you hadn’t expected. She had said "Dada" first, not "Mama."

Dan Heng smiled gently, his hand reaching down to brush a stray lock of hair from his face as he crouched beside your daughter. He placed a hand on her tiny back and softly spoke to her. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice calm and warm as ever.

You didn’t move for a moment, just watching him interact with your daughter. There was a sense of pride and joy in the way he looked at her, but something deeper—more unspoken—lingered beneath his gaze. His silent appreciation for this simple moment of bonding, for the preciousness of life that he often kept hidden under the weight of his duties, was palpable.

You forced a smile, the jealousy still lingering but melting away as you realized how deeply Dan Heng cherished both of you, how precious these moments were.

You leaned down to your daughter, brushing a kiss to her cheek. "Next time, you’ll say ‘Mama,’ won’t you?" you whispered, though your voice was soft and teasing.

Dan Heng turned to you then, his expression unreadable but his eyes softening with that quiet affection he never fully expressed. "She’ll say ‘Mama’ when she’s ready," he replied, his voice as steady as ever.

You let out a small sigh, your jealousy dissipating. You knew it was a fleeting feeling, one that was more about your own insecurities than anything else. You leaned into the moment, feeling Dan Heng’s reassuring presence next to you. Your daughter’s first words—though a small part of you wished for "Mama"—were a symbol of her growing bond with both of you, and you cherished that more than anything.

"Well," you said softly, "at least she’s saying something."

Dan Heng smiled, a rare, quiet expression that held so much meaning in it. "And that’s enough."

The soft morning light filtered through the windows of your shared quarters, casting a warm glow over the room. You sat on the plush carpet with your daughter in your arms, her soft giggles filling the air as she reached for the colorful blocks scattered before her. You smiled down at her, your heart swelling with affection. She was growing so quickly, each day bringing new milestones, and today… today was the day you had been waiting for.

"Say mama," you cooed, your voice filled with gentle excitement as you cupped your daughter's small hands in yours. You leaned in, brushing a kiss to her forehead, trying to coax the word from her little mouth. It was the word you had dreamed of hearing since the moment you knew you were pregnant with her. Mama.

You glanced over to Aventurine, standing near the window with his ever-present, enigmatic smile. His eyes, as always, held a depth of mystery. Yet today, something seemed slightly different in his posture, a quiet tension lingering in the air. Despite that, you knew that he too was watching the scene unfold, just as eager as you to hear their first words.

"Say mama, sweetie," you whispered again, your voice filled with anticipation.

Your daughter looked up at you, her bright eyes sparkling as her tiny fingers grabbed at the air, but she didn't respond. She seemed too distracted by the blocks before her, her chubby hands fumbling to stack them.

Aventurine's expression softened as he leaned against the doorframe, his gaze never leaving you or your daughter. He was patient, always patient, but today, a subtle change in his demeanor caught your attention.

And then, it happened.

"Dada," your daughter said clearly, her voice soft and innocent, but unmistakably distinct.

You froze, your heart fluttering in your chest. Dada. It wasn’t mama. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the room seemed to close in on you. A strange feeling gripped your chest, a bitter sting you hadn't expected.

Aventurine’s smile widened as he took a step toward the two of you. "Dada," your daughter repeated, her face lighting up at the sight of him. He knelt down in front of her, his hand reaching for her small back, the love and tenderness in his touch evident.

"Well, look at that," Aventurine murmured, his voice smooth and velvety, tinged with pride. "My little strategist is already learning how to win the game."

He turned to look at you, that familiar smile still on his lips, but there was something unreadable in his gaze. He tilted his head slightly, as if waiting for your reaction.

A strange, unbidden jealousy surged within you. You hadn't expected it—of course, your daughter would say "Dada" at some point, but the timing… the emotional weight of that moment hit you harder than you'd anticipated.

You smiled weakly, trying to mask the feeling, but it lingered, a knot twisting inside you. Why didn’t she say mama first?

Aventurine seemed to sense the change in the air, his ever-sharp instincts picking up on the subtle shift in your emotions. He straightened, turning slightly to give you a sidelong glance. "You know, it’s a good thing, darling," he said softly, his voice laced with a hint of something sincere. "It means she’s growing up. And that’s always a reason to celebrate."

His words, usually so carefully measured, seemed more genuine than usual, and it made your heart ache a little.

Still, the jealousy gnawed at you, unrelenting. "I suppose," you murmured, your eyes trained on your daughter as she reached for Aventurine’s face, babbling happily in a language only he seemed to understand.

Aventurine didn’t miss a beat. "Is it really a bad thing, though?" He was standing now, a few steps closer to you. He reached out, gently touching your arm in that subtle way that always seemed to bring you a sense of calm. "Does it matter if she said 'Dada' first? What matters is that she’s happy. That she’s learning. That she’s surrounded by love. And that, my dear, is more than enough."

You took a deep breath, feeling the sting of jealousy melt away under the weight of his words. There was truth in them, of course. Your daughter loved you both equally, even if her first word wasn’t what you had hoped for.

"I suppose you’re right," you said with a soft sigh, leaning in to kiss your daughter’s cheek. She giggled in response, reaching up to tug at your hair playfully.

Aventurine’s smile softened as he knelt beside you both, brushing a hand through your daughter’s hair. "Next time, maybe she’ll say Mama," he said quietly, his gaze meeting yours, his voice filled with quiet understanding.

You chuckled, the knot in your chest completely unraveling now. "Maybe," you whispered, the jealousy long forgotten. "But for now, Dada will do."

Aventurine leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead, his usual charm tempered with a rare sincerity. "You’ll always be Mama to her," he murmured. "And that, my love, is something no first word can take away."

With a final lingering smile, he looked down at your daughter, his eyes gleaming with love. Your heart swelled, feeling the bond between the three of you grow even stronger, in ways that words, even those spoken first, couldn’t express.

"Next time," he said with a teasing grin, "we’ll make sure she says both, won’t we?"

You laughed softly, the tension in the air dissipating entirely. "Deal."

And with that, you both sat back, content in the quiet joy of your little family—Dada and Mama, equally loved, equally needed.

[yestrday]

so imagine offhandedly complimenting the third years about something niche, like diluc's bangs or venti's skin, or maybe kaeya's veins, and the next day they start trying to show off those niche parts about themselves to an embarrassing degree

and make that a request from me because I'd love to see how the third years would embarrass themselves, especially in front of the first and second years.

: ̗̀➛ YOU BETTER STOP WHILE YOU'RE AT IT...

one little compliment and these third years won't stop flaunting themselves. as always, harem shenanigans ensue.

( harem shenanigans, they're just silly guys here :p, nevermind the murder and manipulation that goes behind the scenes )

"what are they doing?" aether asks his sister, sharing her amused smile. lumine shrugs, sipping on her slurpee as she continues to entertain herself with their antics.

"embarassing themselves," she simply answers, and hands the drink to aether for him to sip on too.

CHILDE is rolling up his track pants as he's shooting hoops at the outdoor court. what better way to show off those sculpted thighs that you oh-so love as he's jumping and running around. he might have gotten carried away with it, with how high up he's rolled them that they're practically shorts. even his own teammates are a bit flustered as they sneak glances at his bare thighs and blush. childe, of course, does not care about their gaze when he's busy sneaking glances at you on the bleachers.

"my, senior childe, you look positively straight out from an erotica!" xingqiu comments while childe is chugging down water on his break. the younger boy is smiling at him with faux innocence, but he can clearly see the mocking in his eyes. "such a bold choice of fashion and for what? mx [y. name] is too invested in their book to bother looking at you." childe puffs his chest out in pride. "you wouldn't know, kid, especially with those skinny thighs of yours, but [y. name] adores these babies." he gives his thighs a firm slap, and the taut skin barely jiggles. "so how about you fuck off and study your voodoo shit with your boyfriend?" xingqiu rolls his eyes. "it was one compliment."

VENTI knows no shame, rolling up his school uniform to show off his navel. he's the effeminate type of boy, and he finds pleasure in catching you sneaking glances at him before quickly looking away with a blush. he could only guess what kind of inner turmoil must be going in that pretty head of yours! with a mischievous smile, he saddles up to your side and revels in your surprised squeak. guiding your shaking hand to his side, he welcomes your palm on the plush on the side of his tummy. then he watches how your face explodes into a million different shades of red before you fizzle out and slump into the crook of his neck with a pathetic whimper.

"s-senior venti...!" bennett squeaks, hiding his blushing face with two hands the moment he walks in and sees you two in such a promiscuous position on the bench. "th- i don't...! i think that's highly inappropriate!" venti pouts, snuggling even closer to you in spite of his junior's admonitions. "eh~? no way, this is a ve~ery normal behavior between loving seniors and their dear juniors! besides!" he points a finger at bennett (now daring to look at them through the gaps between his fingers) and wags it. "if you wanna even have a shot at [y. name], then you gotta take the initiative!" but bennett sighs sadly, looking at his senior's smooth tummy and his scarred one. "but i'm not as pretty as you :("

these days, KAEYA has been taking off those leather gloves and rolling up his white sleeves so he can flex those veins whenever he gets. women and men alike swoon whenever he swaggers down the hallways with such a scandalous getup, and even you find himself flustered and stealing peeks whenever he offers to carry your bag for you. the sinful trail of those veins bulging from his dark skin and fading back, paired with the captivating grin he sends your way whenever he catches you staring... it's all a bit too much!

SMACK! kaeya is taken by surprise when he feels a dull impact on the back of his head. you are surprised as well, and the two of you turn around to see cyno holding a rolled-up newspaper like it's a weapon. he continues staring blankly at kaeya, who looks back at him incredulously and says, "what... was that for?" SMACK! again, the perpetrator hits him with the newspaper on the forehead this time. "indecent exposure." SMACK! "roll down your sleeves," SMACK! "button up your cleavage," SMACK! "and put the gloves back on.'" are the gloves even part of the uniform—? SMACK SMACK SMACK! "ow ow owww," kaeya whines, frowning childishly at the student council patroller as he continues to give him a smackdown. "fine, fine, you're jealous, i get it— SMACK! — public indecency! okay, okay! stop hitting me!"

[03jyh23]

🌷⌇the weight of fatherhood finding our way back part 6; a choi jongho mini-series

ex-boyfriend! idol! jongho x ex-girlfriend! single-mom! reader

│ series masterlist│ next │

│synopsis: five years have passed since jongho last saw you. your lives have taken drastically different paths, with jongho achieving fame and you focusing on raising your daughter, nari, in quiet anonymity. when jongho discovers he has a daughter, he's determined to be a part of her life.

│genre: a slice of life, romance, fluff, some angst

│trigger warnings: unplanned pregnancy, illegitimate child, single parenthood

│words: 6.5 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there my lovely people! we are finally back! thank you guys for being patient with me, and waiting for this update! as always do let me know if you enjoyed it!

love, mon ♡

│taglist: │ @seventeenthingsblr │@DALSUWAHA │

│ @ateez-atiny380 │ @yoonshiiu │ @sndeoki │ @bomi-ja │

│ @vixensss │ @all-fandoms-rise │ @finnydraws │

│ @jonghosbrainrot │ @ateezswonderland │ @stayatinykatsy

│@chickenscoups │ @ana-stasssiaaa │ @starryunho │

│ @originalcupcakenacho │ @ultrapinkvoidbouquet │

│ @sweetinsaniiity│ @jennifermakmur│ @mitchii │

│ @hannah-97 │ @hyuckiesgf │ @treehouse-mouse │

│ if you wish to be tagged let me know here! ♡

"Uncle Wooyoung!" Nari's joyful scream reverberated through the KQ building, filling the air with childlike excitement. Wooyoung, who had been in the middle of his stretching routine, instantly perked up at the sound of her voice. A wide, infectious grin spread across his face as he caught sight of Nari running towards him, her tiny legs pumping as fast as they could carry her. Her hair bounced with each step, and her eyes shone with happiness. Without hesitation, Wooyoung crouched down, arms spread wide, ready to envelop her in a warm, welcoming embrace.

"There's my favorite girl in the whole wide world!" Wooyoung exclaimed exuberantly, scooping her up into his arms and spinning her around, eliciting a delighted squeal from Nari. As he settled her on his hip, he gave her an affectionate squeeze and asked, "How's my little princess doing today?"

Nari's giggles filled the air, her eyes sparkling with joy and mischief. She wriggled excitedly in Wooyoung's arms, barely able to contain herself. "Uncle Wooyoung, guess what? Uncle Jongho gave me a new toy! Look!" With that, she proudly held up a remote-controlled car, her little hands gripping it tightly as if it were the most precious treasure in the world. Nari's face beamed with pride as she presented her new toy, eagerly awaiting Wooyoung's reaction to this marvelous gift.

Wooyoung's eyes widened dramatically, his expression a perfect mix of surprise and amazement. "Wow, Nari! That's the coolest toy I've ever seen!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. He examined the car closely, turning it over in his hand as Nari watched eagerly. "This is absolutely amazing! I can't wait to see it in action," he said, giving her another affectionate squeeze. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he added, "But first, how about a super special high-five for being such an awesome girl and bringing this incredible toy to show me?" Nari's face lit up at the suggestion, and she enthusiastically raised her tiny hand, meeting Wooyoung's palm with a resounding smack. Her smile grew even wider, if that was possible, pride radiating from her entire being.

The practice room door swung open as Wooyoung and Nari continued their playful interaction. Jongho entered, with Hongjoong right beside him. The leader's gestures and hushed tones suggested he was catching Jongho up on some important details - perhaps about an upcoming performance or a change in their schedule. Jongho nodded attentively, his brows furrowed slightly in concentration. However, his eyes kept darting to where Nari was playing with Wooyoung, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth every time he glanced their way.

San followed shortly after, stepping into the practice room with a knowing smile playing on his lips. As he caught Jongho's eye, he gave a subtle nod, a silent acknowledgment of their successful maneuver outside.

As Hongjoong continued to fill Jongho in on the details, his voice a low murmur in the background, San's attention was drawn to Nari and Wooyoung. He approached them slowly, his heart swelling with a complex mixture of emotions as he observed his best friend holding the little girl so close. The bond between Wooyoung and Nari was palpable, filled with genuine affection and joy. San couldn't help but think that Wooyoung was simply made to be a father - it was evident in every interaction he had with kids. Looking at him now, holding Nari close, San saw it in the way Wooyoung's eyes softened, in his patience and enthusiasm for her every word and action. Watching them together filled San with a warmth that spread through his chest, but it was tinged with a hint of something else - perhaps a touch of envy, or a longing for something he couldn't quite name. He stood there, taking in the scene before him: Nari's tiny arms wrapped around Wooyoung's neck, her infectious giggles filling the air, and her eyes sparkling with pure, joy. Wooyoung was responding to her excitement with equal fervor, his face animated as he listened to her chatter about her new toy.

As San approached, Wooyoung couldn't resist the opportunity for some playful banter. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in close to Nari, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that was still loud enough for San to hear. "Hey Nari," he said, his lips curving into a teasing smile, "I think Uncle San is getting a little jealous. Look at that pout on his face!" He exaggerated a sad expression, causing Nari to giggle uncontrollably. Wooyoung then winked at his friend, his smile widening into a full-fledged grin that radiated warmth and affection.

San, catching on to Wooyoung's playful mood, dramatically clutched his chest and feigned a hurt expression. "Oh, the betrayal!" he exclaimed, his voice dripping with mock indignation. "And here I thought I was your favorite uncle, Nari!" He then chuckled, shaking his head as he reached them. "Come on, Wooyoung," he said, playfully rolling his eyes. "You know there's more than enough of Nari's love to go around. Besides, who could resist this charming face?" He struck a comical pose, causing both Wooyoung and Nari to burst into laughter. San then extended his arms towards Nari, who immediately reached out to him with unbridled excitement, her tiny hands grasping at the air.

With a theatrical sigh of resignation, Wooyoung gently transferred Nari into San's waiting arms. Nari nestled comfortably against his chest, her tiny hands instinctively clutching the fabric of his shirt. The sight of the little girl so at ease in his arms brought a soft, tender expression to San's face. "Well, hello there, my little princess," he greeted her, his voice warm and filled with genuine affection. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled down at her. "Did you miss your Uncle San? Because I certainly missed you!"

Nari's response was immediate and enthusiastic. She nodded vigorously, her eyes, wide and shining with unbridled happiness, locked onto San's face. "Yes, Uncle San!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with childlike excitement. "I missed you so, so much! This much!" She stretched her arms out as wide as they could go, nearly losing her balance in San's arms in her eagerness to demonstrate the extent of her affection.

San's heart melted at her words and actions, a wave of warmth washing over him. He tightened his hold on her ever so slightly, giving her a gentle, protective squeeze. "Aww, I missed you too, Nari," he replied softly, his voice thick with emotion. "More than you can imagine." He paused for a moment, savoring the feeling of holding her close before his eyes lit up with an idea. "Hey, I've got a great idea! How about we all play with your new car together? I bet we can come up with some really cool tricks."

Wooyoung, who had been watching the interaction with a fond smile, perked up at the suggestion. His eyes twinkled with excitement, matching Nari's enthusiasm. "Oh, yes!" he chimed in, clapping his hands together. "Let's see what this amazing car of yours can do, Nari! I bet it can do some pretty impressive stunts. Maybe we can set up an obstacle course for it!" He gave Nari an encouraging nod, his smile wide and infectious.

With Nari still securely in his arms, San led the way to a clear space in the practice room. The anticipation was palpable as he gently set her down on her feet. Both he and Wooyoung watched with rapt attention as Nari, barely able to contain her excitement, eagerly began to demonstrate how to operate the remote-controlled car. Her tiny fingers moved deftly over the controls, and her face was a picture of concentration mixed with pure joy.

From the sidelines, Jongho observed the heartwarming scene unfolding before him. A warm, content smile spread across his face as he watched Nari's joyful interactions with his bandmates. It was in moments like these that Jongho truly appreciated the strong bond they all shared. They were more than just colleagues or bandmates; they were a family.

As if on cue, the door to the practice room swung open. In walked Mingi, Yeosang, and Yunho, their curious gazes immediately drawn to the lively scene before them. Yunho's face, in particular, broke into a wide, mischievous grin as he saw San and Wooyoung playing with Nari. His eyes twinkled with amusement as he nudged Mingi and Yeosang, gesturing towards the trio with a tilt of his head.

"Well, well, well," Yunho called out, his voice carrying a teasing lilt. "What do we have here? Hey, lovebirds!" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at San and Wooyoung. "You two look good like that, you know. All domestic and cozy. Practicing for the future, are we?" His grin widened as he watched for their reactions, clearly enjoying the opportunity to poke fun at his friends.

Wooyoung's head snapped up at Yunho's words, a mix of surprise and amusement crossing his features. His cheeks flushed slightly, though whether from embarrassment or exertion from playing was hard to tell. "Yah! Yunho!" he exclaimed, trying his best to sound indignant but failing miserably as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "We're just playing with Nari. Instead of standing there making jokes, why don't you come and join us? I bet Nari would love to show you her awesome car skills!"

San handled the teasing well. He laughed and shook his head at Yunho's jokes. "You know," he said with a smile, gently patting Nari's hair, "if we look good, it's because of this little princess. She makes us seem cooler than we really are. Isn't that right, Nari?" He gave the little girl a playful wink, and she smiled brightly back at him.

Mingi and Yeosang, standing slightly behind Yunho, exchanged amused glances at the banter. They couldn't help but smile, without a word, they shared a look of understanding before making their way over to join the group. The practice room, usually filled with the sounds of music and choreography, now echoed with the joyous laughter of friends enjoying a moment of pure, unadulterated fun.

Yeosang crouched down next to Nari, his usually composed demeanor softening into a warm, inviting smile. His eyes sparkled with genuine interest as he regarded the little girl and her new toy. "Well, hello there, Nari," he said, his voice gentle and filled with affection. "That's quite an impressive car you've got there. I bet it can do all sorts of cool tricks, can't it? Would you mind if we joined in on the fun?’’

Nari's face lit up, she nodded enthusiastically, a giggle escaping her lips as she thrust the remote control towards Yeosang with both hands. "Yes, yes, please play with us, Uncle Yeosang!" she exclaimed, her voice brimming with joy. As Yeosang carefully accepted the controls from Nari's tiny hands, Mingi's towering figure appeared beside them. With a dramatic flourish, he folded his long limbs, attempting to squeeze into the small circle formed by the others. The sight was comical - his knees nearly touching his chin as he tried to make himself compact enough to join the play session.

"Alright, folks," he announced, his deep voice tinged with childlike wonder, "let's see what it’s capable of."

Yunho joined the group, sitting down next to Wooyoung, nudging him playfully with his elbow. Leaning in conspiratorially, he spoke in an exaggerated whisper that was clearly meant for everyone to hear. "So, tell me," he began, his voice dripping with playful teasing, "in this little family scenario we've got going on here, which one of you two lovebirds is playing the role of mom, and who's the dad? I really want to know!"

Wooyoung reacted quickly with a mock gasp of indignation, he gave Yunho a light push, making him fall back dramatically. "Oh, keep talking like that," Wooyoung said, laughing even though he tried to sound serious. He stuck out his tongue childishly before continuing, "and you'll find yourself playing the part of the weird uncle that nobody ever invites to family events. How do you like that?"

As the laughter from Wooyoung's joke faded, San's mood changed. The smile left his eyes, replaced by a thoughtful look. He gazed at Wooyoung, who was still joking with Yunho. San felt something in his chest - a mix of familiar and new feelings. It was warm but also a bit unsettling. He couldn't quite name this feeling, but it made him both excited and nervous. Without meaning to, San cleared his throat, catching everyone's attention. "You know," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, a stark contrast to the atmosphere of moments ago. He paused, weighing his words carefully before continuing, "I've been thinking... and I wouldn't mind it, actually. The idea of raising a child with Wooyoung, I mean." He let the words hang in the air for a moment, acutely aware of the surprised looks being exchanged around him. Gathering his courage, he pressed on, his voice gaining a hint of conviction. "We've always worked well together, haven't we? In everything we do. I can't help but think we'd make a pretty great team as parents too. Don't you think?" The playful atmosphere in the room evaporated in an instant, replaced by a tension that seemed to thicken the air. The other members exchanged uncertain glances, clearly caught off guard by San's unexpected revelation. Wooyoung's eyes widened, his gaze locked on San with an intensity that spoke volumes. A myriad of emotions flashed across his face - surprise, confusion, and something deeper, more complex, that he wasn't quite ready to acknowledge or name. San, acutely aware of the sudden shift in mood and the weight of his words, felt a wave of nervousness wash over him. With a slightly forced chuckle, he quickly attempted to lighten the mood. "I mean, hypothetically speaking, of course," he added hastily, his hand moving to ruffle Nari's hair in a gesture that seemed more for his own comfort than hers. "We're already doing a pretty great job with Nari, aren't we? It's not that big of a leap, right?" San's attempt to lighten the mood didn't work. His words hung in the air, and the tense atmosphere remained. No one seemed to know how to respond, and the silence felt uncomfortable.

Wooyoung, still visibly stunned by San's words, managed to compose himself enough to offer a small, albeit slightly shaky, smile. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice barely audible. "We are." The look he gave San was a complex tapestry of emotions - a mix of confusion and hope, intertwined with something deeper, more profound. It was a feeling that Wooyoung wasn't quite ready to name or fully acknowledge, but it was there, unmistakable in the depths of his eyes.

Yunho noticed the group's mood had changed. He wanted to make things less tense. So, he cleared his throat and spoke in a kind voice, even though he had been joking around earlier. "You know what? I think you two would make fantastic parents," he said, his words carrying a weight of genuine belief. "You both have so much love to give, and you're already amazing with kids." He paused, a warm smile spreading across his face as he continued, "But hey, let's not get ahead of ourselves, alright? For now, why don't we focus on being the best uncles we can be for our little Nari here?" With that, he turned to the little girl, his smile brightening even further. "What do you say, princess? How about we have a little competition to see who can make that awesome car of yours do the coolest trick? I bet Uncle Yeosang has some moves up his sleeve!"

Just as the group was about to dive back into their playtime with renewed enthusiasm, Hongjoong's voice cut through the air, gently but firmly bringing everyone's attention back to the reason they were all gathered in the practice room. "Alright, everyone," he said, his tone carrying the subtle authority of a leader, "I hate to be the one to break up the fun, but how about we carry on with our practice? We've got a lot to cover today." His words, while apologetic, served as a clear reminder of their responsibilities and the work that lay ahead of them.

"Hold on," Yeosang interjected, his brow furrowing slightly with concern as he glanced around the room. "Seonghwa still hasn't returned. Should we wait for him?"

Hongjoong shook his head, "He's still with one of the producers," he explained, his tone reassuring. "They needed him to re-record some parts. We'll have to continue without him today."

The members exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from the playful mood of moments ago to a more focused, professional demeanor. Wooyoung turned his attention back to Nari, giving her one last affectionate pat on the head before rising to his feet. "Alright, princess," he said softly, his voice filled with warmth and a hint of regret at having to end their playtime. "It's time for your uncles to do some work now. But don't worry, okay? We'll definitely play more later. I promise."

Nari's lower lip jutted out in a slight pout, but she nodded bravely. She understood, in her own way, that her beloved uncles had important things to do. San quickly scanned the room and found a comfortable spot where Nari could sit and watch their practice. With gentle hands, he guided her to the spot, making sure she was settled comfortably. "Here you go, sweetheart," he said, his voice soft and caring. "You've got the best seat in the house to watch us practice."

As the members began to take their positions for practice, Jongho couldn't help but cast one last glance in Nari's direction. His eyes softened as he saw her sitting there, her eyes wide with excitement, ready to watch her uncles in action. The little girl caught his gaze and gave him a reassuring smile, as if to say she was perfectly content. Jongho felt a warmth spread through his chest at the sight. With a subtle nod to Hongjoong, signaling he was ready, Jongho took a deep breath. He was prepared to focus on the task at hand, but a part of his attention remained attuned to their precious little spectator, ready to ensure her comfort and safety throughout their practice session.

The practice session was intense, with each member pouring their heart and soul into perfecting their intricate moves and harmonizing their voices. As they ran through their routines, the air in the room crackled with energy and determination. Nari, seated comfortably in her designated spot, watched with wide-eyed wonder, her gaze never leaving the synchronized movements of her uncles. Occasionally, she would break into spontaneous applause or let out an excited cheer, her enthusiasm infectious. The members, feeling Nari's eyes on them, seemed to draw strength from her presence, pushing themselves even harder to deliver flawless performances.

As the grueling practice session began to wind down, the members, their shirts damp with sweat and chests heaving from exertion, gathered around Nari. Jongho, despite his fatigue, managed to crouch down beside her, a warm smile spreading across his face. His eyes, filled with affection, met Nari's as he gently ruffled her hair. "So, little one," he said, his voice slightly breathless but filled with warmth, "what did you think of our performance?"

Nari's response was immediate and enthusiastic. She nodded vigorously, her eyes sparkling with excitement and admiration. "You were all so amazing!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with awe as she bounced in her seat, unable to contain her excitement. Her next words tumbled out in a rush of eagerness, "Can I learn to dance like that too? Please? I want to move like you all do!"

The members exchanged amused glances, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten as they chuckled at Nari's unbridled enthusiasm. Yunho, his face breaking into a wide grin, stepped forward. He crouched down to Nari's eye level, his voice warm and encouraging. "Of course you can, princess!" he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief and affection. "In fact, why wait? How about we teach you a few moves right now? What do you say, guys?"

With that suggestion, the atmosphere in the practice room shifted dramatically. The space that had moments ago been filled with intense concentration now buzzed with playful energy. Each member took turns showing Nari simple steps, their movements exaggerated and slow to make it easier for her to follow. They watched with fond smiles and encouraging words as the little girl attempted to mimic their moves, her face scrunched up in concentration.

The room soon filled with a symphony of laughter and cheers as Nari twirled, hopped, and swayed, her small body moving with the uncoordinated enthusiasm of a child. Her face beamed with pure joy, lighting up the room and warming the hearts of everyone present. The members, despite their exhaustion, found themselves reinvigorated by Nari's infectious happiness, their own movements becoming more animated as they joined in her dance party.

As their dance lesson began to wind down, Hongjoong clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "Alright, everyone," he said, a mix of pride and amusement in his tone, "great work today - both the practice and the dance lesson. But it's time we call it a day and get some rest. We've got a busy week ahead of us, after all."

The members nodded in agreement, their faces a mix of satisfaction from a productive practice and lingering amusement from their dance session with Nari. They began to gather their things, moving with the slow, careful movements of those whose muscles were just beginning to feel the strain of a hard day's work. Jongho made his way to Nari, who was now showing signs of tiredness after all the excitement. He scooped her up gently, his strong arms cradling her small form. "Ready to go home, sweetheart?" he asked softly, his voice tender.

Nari nodded sleepily, her earlier boundless energy now giving way to drowsiness. She rested her head on Jongho's shoulder, her voice a soft murmur. "Can we come back tomorrow?" she asked, her words slightly slurred with impending sleep. "I want to dance with everyone again."

Jongho couldn't help but chuckle, his chest rumbling with the sound. He exchanged fond glances with his bandmates, all of whom wore similar expressions of affection and amusement. "We'll see, Nari," he said gently, rubbing her back soothingly. "We'll see. For now, let's get you home and into bed, okay?"

As they made their way out of the practice room, Jongho felt a profound sense of warmth and contentment wash over him. The day had been filled with unexpected moments of joy and precious memories with Nari. He knew that balancing his responsibilities as an idol with caring for Nari will be challenging, but today - seeing her joy, feeling the support of his members, experiencing the unique blend of his two worlds - made it all worthwhile.

As they prepared to leave the building, Wooyoung and San approached Jongho and the now sleepy Nari. Wooyoung reached out, gently stroking Nari's hair, his touch feather-light to avoid disturbing her. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, "Goodbye, little one. We had so much fun today, didn't we? You're going to be a great dancer someday, just like your uncles."

Nari managed a sleepy nod, a small smile gracing her face even as her eyes struggled to stay open. San leaned in, placing a light kiss on her forehead, his actions filled with tenderness. "Sweet dreams, princess," he murmured, his voice warm with affection. "We'll see you again soon. Maybe next time, you can teach us some of your dance moves."

The three men made their way to the parking lot, Jongho carrying the now-dozing Nari. The cool night air was a welcome relief after the stuffy practice room, and they breathed deeply, savoring the freshness. As they reached Jongho's car, Wooyoung stepped forward, opening the back door with careful quietness. Jongho maneuvered carefully, gently placing Nari in her car seat without waking her. His movements were practiced and tender, speaking of the care and love he held for the little girl.

Once Nari was securely fastened, San placed a hand on Jongho's shoulder, giving it a supportive squeeze. His voice was low but filled with sincerity, "You did great today, Jongho. Not just with the practice, but with Nari too. It's not easy balancing all of this, but you're handling it wonderfully. We're all proud of you."

Wooyoung nodded in agreement, his expression serious but warm. "And remember," he added, his voice equally low to avoid disturbing Nari, "we're always here if you need anything. For you and for Nari. Whether it's babysitting, or just someone to talk to, or even dance lessons," he finished with a small chuckle, referencing their earlier antics.

Jongho felt a lump form in his throat, touched by his friend's words and support. He smiled gratefully at them, his eyes shining with emotion. "Thanks, guys," he managed, his voice slightly husky. "It means more than you know." He glanced at the sleeping Nari in the backseat, his expression softening further. "She loves you all so much. You're making this transition easier for both of us. I don't know what we'd do without you all."

With final waves and whispered goodbyes, Wooyoung and San stepped back, allowing Jongho to climb into the driver's seat. As he started the engine, Jongho took a moment to look at his sleeping charge in the rearview mirror, then at his friends standing in the parking lot, illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights. With a final wave, he pulled out of the parking space and drove off into the night, his heart full of warmth from the day's events and gratitude for the family he had found in his members.

As Jongho carefully maneuvered his car into a parking spot near your apartment building, the events of the day played through his mind like a gentle melody. With delicate movements, he unbuckled Nari from her car seat. The little girl, exhausted from her day barely stirred as Jongho lifted her into his arms. Her small form nestled against his chest, her head finding its perfect resting place on his shoulder as if it were made just for her.

Jongho's steps were slow and measured as he made his way towards the building entrance only not to wake the little girl up. As he approached the elevator, a wave of contentment washed over him, the day had been long, filled with the rigorous demands of practice and the unexpected delight of Nari's presence, but it left Jongho feeling fulfilled in a way he hadn't experienced before. His heart quickened slightly at the thought of seeing you again, however, as the elevator doors parted on your floor, Jongho's peaceful thoughts suddenly changed. Standing at the door to your apartment was a man Jongho didn't recognize. Almost unconsciously, he tightened his hold on Nari, drawing her closer to his chest as if to shield her. Jongho moved forward, his eyes never straying from the unknown man. As Jongho got closer, he noticed the man acting nervous. The stranger kept fidgeting and looking at his watch. Jongho's heart pounded in his chest, he positioned himself strategically between the stranger and the door, his body language a clear statement of protection. With a soft clearing of his throat, careful not to disturb Nari's peaceful slumber but loud enough to catch the man's attention, Jongho prepared to address the unexpected visitor. His voice, when he spoke, was low but firm, "Excuse me," Jongho said, his words cutting through the tense silence, "Can I help you?"

"She was with you the entire time?" The man's sudden exclamation startled Jongho, causing him to take a few steps back instinctively. His eyebrows shot up in shock, his expression a mix of confusion and wariness. "Nari was with you the entire time?" the stranger repeated, his eyes fixed on the sleeping Nari in Jongho's arms.

Jongho's protective instincts kicked into overdrive. He shifted his stance, angling his body to further shield Nari from the man's intense gaze. His voice, when he spoke, was cautious and measured. "Yes, she was. May I ask who you are and why you're asking about my daughter?" The tension in the hallway was palpable as Jongho waited for the man's response, his mind racing with possibilities and concerns. He tightened his hold on Nari ever so slightly, ready to act if necessary to ensure her safety.

The man's eyes narrowed, a scoff escaping his lips. His earlier nervousness had completely evaporated, replaced by a confrontational demeanor that sent a chill down Jongho's spine. "Oh, so now she's suddenly yours?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm and barely contained anger. The words hung in the air, heavy with accusation and resentment. "That's rich, coming from someone who's been absent all this time."

Jongho's confusion deepened, his protective instincts flaring even more intensely. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation. He was about to respond, to defend himself and his relationship with Nari, when suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, recognition struck him. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and with a jolt that felt almost physical, Jongho realized who he was facing. "Hyunwoo?" The name left his lips in a whisper, part question, part dawning comprehension. He adjusted his hold on Nari, preparing himself for what was sure to be a difficult and emotionally charged conversation. The tension in the air thickened as recognition dawned on both men, the atmosphere electric with unspoken words and barely suppressed emotions. Hyunwoo's eyes darted between Jongho and sleeping Nari, a tumultuous mix of emotions flashing across his face - anger, hurt, confusion, and something that looked almost like longing. The silence stretched between them, fraught with unspoken accusations and years of complicated history. Jongho took a deep breath, steeling himself for the confrontation that was sure to follow. He knew he had to tread carefully, for Nari's sake if nothing else. "Look, man," Jongho said, his voice low but firm, every word measured and deliberate. "I'm not sure what you're doing here, and I understand you probably have a lot to say. But this isn't the time or place for this conversation. It's late, and I need to put my daughter to bed. We can talk another time if we need to."

"What gives you the right to call her that?" Hyunwoo scoffed, his face contorting into a mixture of disbelief and indignation. A wry, almost bitter smile played on his lips as his eyes narrowed, challenging Jongho's claim with an intensity that seemed to crackle in the air between them. The tension in the hallway escalated palpably, the atmosphere thick with unspoken accusations and emotions barely held in check.

Jongho's jaw clenched, the muscles in his face tightening as he fought to maintain his composure. His patience was wearing thin, but he was acutely aware of the sleeping girl in his arms. "I'm her father, Hyunwoo," he said, his voice low but carrying a firmness that brooked no argument. "That gives me every right." As he spoke, he could feel Nari stirring slightly against his chest, a gentle reminder of the need to keep his emotions in check.

Hyunwoo's face twisted further, a kaleidoscope of emotions flashing across his features - anger, disbelief, and something that looked almost like pain. "Father?" he spat out, the word laced with venom. "Where were you all these years, huh? While you were off chasing your dreams, living the high life of an idol, I was here. I was the one who was there for Nari, for Y/N. I've been the one taking care of them, supporting them, being there for every milestone, every tear, every laugh. Where were you then?"

The accusation hit Jongho like a physical blow, the words cutting deep. For a moment, doubt flickered in his eyes, but he steeled himself, holding his ground. "Look, Hyunwoo," he began, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside, "I understand you care about them. I get that you've been there. But things have changed now. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. This isn't the time or place for this conversation. We're in a hallway, and Nari is sleeping."

Hyunwoo took a step closer, his body tense with barely contained anger. His voice rose slightly, the words tumbling out in a rush of pent-up emotion. "You can't just waltz back into their lives and expect everything to be okay, Jongho. You have no idea what they've been through, what I've-"

Jongho cut him off abruptly, his voice low but carrying an edge of steel. "I'm not going to listen to any of that," he said, his eyes flashing with a determination that seemed to catch Hyunwoo off guard. "And if it was my choice, I don't want you anywhere near my daughter." Hyunwoo recoiled, visibly taken aback by Jongho's sudden assertiveness. The air between them crackled with tension as Jongho continued, his voice barely above a whisper to avoid disturbing Nari. "Look, I appreciate what you might have done in the past. I truly do. But things are different now. I'm here, I'm her father, and I'm not going anywhere. Please, leave."

Hyunwoo's face darkened, a storm of emotions playing across his features. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. For a long, tense moment, it seemed like he might argue further, might escalate the confrontation. But then, as suddenly as it had come, the fight seemed to drain out of him. His shoulders sagged, the anger giving way to a bone-deep weariness. He cast one last, longing look at the sleeping Nari, his eyes softening for just a moment before he turned away. His footsteps echoed in the quiet hallway as he left, each one seeming to carry the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled promises.

As Hyunwoo disappeared around the corner, Jongho let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. A wave of relief washed over him mingled with a mix of other emotions - guilt, sadness, determination. He looked down at Nari, still peacefully asleep in his arms, oblivious to the storm that had just passed.

Suddenly, Nari stirred, her small body shifting against Jongho's chest. Her eyes fluttered open, confusion evident in her sleepy gaze as she took in her surroundings. "Uncle Jongho?" she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. Jongho's heart melted at the sound, his earlier tension dissipating in an instant.

"Shh, it's okay, sweetheart," he whispered, gently rubbing her back. "We're home now. Let's get you to bed." With a gentle sigh, he turned to unlock the apartment door, his mind still racing with thoughts of the challenges that lay ahead. But for now, all that mattered was comforting Nari and finding a moment of peace in the quiet of the night.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│♡

[simmplerussiangirl]

Her Princess

Part one

Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Synopsis: The only daughter of the Ras family is exchanged with the Medard clan for a peace treaty. Thanks to her pride and the hard core inside her, she doesn't falls into despair and continues to live. She continues to live to take revenge on her family for literally selling her to a clan of enemies.

word count: 1.6k

cw: selfharm, hatred, aggression, death, defiant behavior, Ambressa is a sweet bun.

Part One

- Princess Ras, you are invited to the throne room.

 I knew this was going to happen. I was informed about this three nights ago, but my heart still did not believe that my own family would do this to me. Of course, we were not an ideal family, but rather the most ordinary, aristocratic one. With an infinitely angry and indifferent mother who hated her daughter, with a tyrannical father who, like the mother, did not participate in the child's life in any way because of his busy schedule and unwillingness. It seemed to me that we were not a bad family anyway. I guess I was just imagining it.

 I got out of bed, straightening my clothes.

I was wearing a light burgundy dress, the hems of which moved from any wind current, it was spectacular, just the kind I needed. And also, more importantly, it was in the colors of the Medard clan. I wanted my parents to realize that I knew. I knew what was going to happen today. But, nevertheless, I forced them to make that cherished speech on their own, looking straight into my eyes.

As I walked along the corridor, I took one last look around my ancestral mansion. There was no fear inside, I knew I wouldn't be killed or tortured. Firstly, I am quite a valuable exhibit because of my abilities. Secondly, I would kill myself faster than anyone would want to bring me harm. I will not allow myself to die at the hands of the Medard clan. Never in my life will I allow it. I will not give such joy.

 A flame of hatred burned inside me with every step I took. Each heel strike against the marble floor was accompanied by a strengthening of inner resolve.

 Disappointment at what they'd done to me. It hardened me even more, preventing me from crying or fleeing. Rather, it pushed me to think of new ideas for revenge.

 I felt more and more confident, clutching the amulet around my neck that I'd inherited from my late grandmother. It carried no magical potential, but when I touched it, I felt myself fill with the strength to go on. To go on, no matter what. 

Already standing at the door, I was brimming with determination. No blade, no arrow, no word could break me, shake my confidence.

-Princess Ros. - I entered the hall with my head held high and shoulders squared. I wore a mask of infinite calm on my face.

 The room was quiet. There were no whispers, no sighs. There was no sound at all, even the ever-noisy clock mechanism was silent, and no candles crackled in the candelabra. Everything froze, as if at a funeral.

 The clack of my heels was like a hammer hammering nails into a coffin lid. I stopped in front of my parents, who were now sitting on the throne. But this time I didn't bow, just stared at them as if they were dirt under my feet. In fact, they were now. I had lost all respect for them, and even the thought of bowing to them made me gag. From this moment on, they were no longer my family.

 Behind me I felt Medard's warriors, led by Umbressa herself. I could almost physically feel their gaze. Uncomprehending, even stunned by my antics. I wanted to shrink and cower under the oppression, but I could not allow myself to do so.

 I looked at my father, who opened and closed his mouth, staring at my clothes in shock. It was beautiful. Watching the echoes of realization appear on his face. That I knew everything. Just waiting for him to ruin his daughter's life with his own hands. When he literally sells her out.

- "In the war with Noxus," his trembling voice broke the silence of the hall, and I saw him wince at his own weakness, "we lost too many soldiers, too many civilians, too many resources. And we made the decision to retreat, to sit down at the negotiating table. And we came to the conclusion that we would end the war and sign a peace treaty. On the condition that we give Clan Medard something of extraordinary value. Something that could replace our territories.

  My father stared at me unblinkingly as I stood there, smirking in his face. But what was going on inside of me...A storm of emotions, my chest tightening, tugging as if I were about to pass out. I wanted to cuddle up to someone and cry at how painful and hurtful it was to hear those words. To realize that they see me as a resource to be exchanged for something.

-Ambressa,- my father finally took his gaze off me and looked somewhere behind me. - I'm handing you my only daughter, Sophie. She is naturally endowed with an extraordinary gift of magic. I am sure she will be useful in your future operations.

 I heard measured footsteps behind me. Soon two of Medard's warriors appeared beside me and were about to take me under their arms so that I would not run away, but I just looked calmly into the eyes of one of them and shook my head slightly. They immediately lowered their hands without touching me.

 Ambressa stood a little ahead of me, her back covered in a multitude of scars that stood out strongly in white stripes on her skin. I looked at her with mild interest, for this was the first time I had ever seen someone so strong, much less a girl. I smirked at the thought that she could take on our soldiers by herself and not even get tired. Surprisingly, I felt nothing for her. No emotion whatsoever.

-I accept this...an offering of sorts. It was an interesting negotiation, glad we all got what we wanted. As of this moment, the peace treaty is now in effect. Have a good day.

 Without bowing, the girl turned and walked away from the hall. One of the warriors gently touched my shoulder, hinting that it was time to leave. But I had something else to do.

-Can I say goodbye to my parents? - I turned my head to the side, looking at the wall instead of at the general. My pride wouldn't let me turn around to look her in the eye.

-Of course we'll wait. Family is sacred.

Ambressa laughed a little at the comicality of the statement. I, too, smiled a little and began to slowly and quietly climb up to my parents, who were sitting on the throne. As soon as I reached a flat surface, my mother approached me.

-It's best for all of us, - she said dryly and unemotionally as always. Mother pressed me lightly against her, patting me on the back and pushing me away, as if my embrace and closeness might stain her.

-Absolutely.

It hurt to hear that, but I buried it deep inside me, not letting any emotion come out. Someday I'll cry about it. Someday, but not now.

My father came over to me, pulling me quickly against him. I smiled a bloodthirsty smile, anticipating my actions.

-I want you to know, - I spoke softly in his ear, hugging his back, - I've wanted this for the past few years. I've literally dreamed about it. - I knew my father didn't know what I was talking about yet, but that was just for now. - Remember when you told me that everything in the world boomerangs back?

 Quickly using my magic I created a fiery dagger that was suspended in the air. I heard a commotion nearby and sharply plunged the dagger into my father's heart. The man instantly collapsed in my arms and I threw him to the floor, a small trickle of blood flowed from his mouth, quickly drenching the expensive uniform, the floor and the hem of my dress. I instantly created an air shield around me and my father, which helped me protect myself from my mother, who was already running to her beloved husband in tears. Either wanting to kill me or spend the last seconds of her life next to him, looking into his eyes.

-So your boomerang didn't go as far as you thought.

 I saw the light of life go out in his eyes, but he couldn't even say goodbye to his wife because I wouldn't let him.

-I hope you burn in hell.

I felt my mother begin to thrash into my shield and saw my mother take her last hoarse breath and close her eyes. I, still remaining infinitely calm, got to my feet and took small steps down the stairs. I walked with my head held high, hearing my own mother's curses and hysterics behind me. I walked straight toward Ambessa, who stood with an impenetrable face. The girl might not have expected something like this, but at least she didn't show it.

 As I approached her, she held out her hand to help me down the stairs. I put my hand in hers.

 My life has changed 180 degrees in just a few minutes. I was traded for a peace treaty, I killed my own father, and I'm going after the girl who ruined my life. This is not how I envisioned my future.

I would be very grateful for feedback, as English is a language I am only practicing. I accept criticism in a milder form, do not break my heart, pls.

[hsjazebel]

Lost in the margins

Between the lines part three: as a storm trap them in the bookstore, a shared cup of tea and soft literary banter gradually dissolve the barriers between two guarded hearts

Wordcount: 6k+

———

The shop bell jingled softly as she pushed open the door, the familiar scent of old pages and fresh coffee wrapping around her like a well-worn sweater. She had never minded the quiet hum of the bookstore—it was a place of stillness, of stories waiting to be discovered, of thoughts left lingering between the margins.

Today, though, the air carried something different. A tension, almost imperceptible, yet present. Or maybe she was just imagining it.

Harry was behind the counter, as always, his head bent slightly over a book, curls falling over his forehead. His brows were drawn together in that perpetual expression of quiet concentration, the same one he always wore when he was pretending not to notice her.

He noticed her.

He always did.

And lately, it was starting to bother him how easily she unsettled him. How effortlessly she fit into the space he had carved out for himself in his quiet, undisturbed world.

“Morning,” she greeted, her voice warm, effortlessly bright, like the first streak of sunlight through a rain-streaked window.

He only hummed in response, flipping a page. But she caught the way his fingers stilled for just a second, betraying him.

She smiled to herself.

She didn’t push him. Never did. She had learned, at some point in their quiet, slow-building interactions, that Harry wasn’t someone you could force into conversation. He spoke when he wanted to. And, despite his best efforts, he always ended up speaking to her.

She wandered between the bookshelves, trailing her fingers along the spines of books as she went. It was something he had noticed about her—she always touched the books, as if she could absorb their stories through her fingertips.

“Do you do that with every book, or just the ones you want to buy?”

His voice startled her. She turned, surprised to see him leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching her.

She blinked at him, then looked down at her hand, still resting on the spine of a worn-out novel.

“Maybe I just like to know which ones feel right,” she said lightly.

Harry huffed, shaking his head. “That’s not how books work.”

She grinned. “Maybe not for you.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t look away. She had that effect on him—she made him look.

And he hated that he didn’t mind.

—

It had started happening more often—the noticing.

The way she hummed softly under her breath when she browsed the shelves. The way she tilted her head slightly when she read, eyes flickering over the words as if she were absorbing them, not just reading. The way she always tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before turning a page, a tiny, absentminded habit that was somehow far more distracting than it should have been.

She didn’t do these things on purpose. That’s what made them worse.

Harry prided himself on being someone who didn’t get distracted easily. He had learned how to exist in his own world, undisturbed. But then she had walked in, with her sunshine warmth and quiet stubbornness, and suddenly, he was all too aware of every moment she spent in the shop.

And apparently, she was here to stay.

“It’s pouring outside,” she said, pulling his attention away from the book he hadn’t actually been reading. She was standing by the window, watching the rain blur the world beyond the glass. “Guess I’m stuck here for a while.”

Harry didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he let his eyes linger on the raindrops racing each other down the windowpane, his grip tightening slightly on the edges of his book.

She turned to him then, waiting, and he knew she expected him to offer something—maybe a suggestion, maybe just a few words to fill the silence.

Instead, he said the first thing that came to mind.

“There’s tea in the back.”

Her lips twitched, amused. “Is that an invitation?”

He rolled his eyes, already regretting his words. “It’s a fact.”

But she was already moving, heading toward the back of the shop like she belonged there. And the worst part?

He didn’t mind.

—

The tea had long since gone cold.

She sat cross-legged on the floor between two shelves, a book resting in her lap, completely at ease. The storm outside hadn’t let up, and Harry, despite his initial reluctance, had ended up sitting near her, leaning against the bookshelf with a novel in hand.

Or at least, he was pretending to read.

Because in reality, he had spent the last twenty minutes stealing glances at her, watching the way she absentmindedly tapped her fingers against her knee, the way her brow furrowed in concentration.

At some point, she shifted slightly, her shoulder brushing against his. It was the lightest touch, barely anything at all, and yet it sent a jolt through him like an electric current.

She must have felt it too, because she glanced up at him, something curious in her eyes.

“What?” she asked softly.

Harry cleared his throat, looking away. “Nothing.”

A small, knowing smile played on her lips, but she didn’t press. Instead, she looked back down at her book, flipping the page.

After a moment, he spoke again.

“What are you reading?”

She lifted the book slightly so he could see the cover. Pride and Prejudice.

Harry huffed out a quiet laugh. “Of course.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smirked, closing his own book and resting it on his knee. “Just that it suits you.”

She pretended to consider that. “Because I love romance?”

“Because you’re stubborn.”

She gasped, pressing a hand over her heart in mock offense. “Excuse you, I am not stubborn.”

Harry gave her a look.

She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Okay, maybe a little.”

He shook his head, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward despite himself.

And for a moment, just a moment, it was easy—like they weren’t two completely different people, like they weren’t supposed to be nothing more than a customer and a bookseller who barely tolerated each other.

Like maybe, just maybe, they had been something else all along.

———

Taglist: @harryssunflower17 @honeymoonluvv

[hiiikiko]

𝕤𝕝𝕚𝕞 𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕤

tlou m.list | ellie x reader

“since the lord forgot my gay awakenin”

ellie is fed up with your moaning and bitchin’ about how horrible the guys in your small town are

︶⊹︶︶⠀୨୧⠀︶︶⊹︶

“Guess I’ll end this life alone,” you sigh dramatically, stumbling over the rocky forest ground.

You were let down by, yet, another guy, more specifically a ranch hand.

“You’re so damn dramatic,” Ellie rolled her eyes, taking your hand in hers and helping you step off a little ledge.

You were surprised that Ellie was being so tolerant of you today, usually she’d shoo you off, going on about how she didn’t want you following her around like a lost puppy but you couldn’t help it, she was the only other girl on the farm and for the longest time, you’d been craving female friendship. For christ’s sake, you had grown up on an overly testosterone fueled farm, sure, there were girls who joined but none of them were your age like Ellie was. So, when you first laid eyes on Ellie, you were determined to befriend her no matter what, even if she was a little mean and sarcastic.

“I am not dramatic,” you huff, “All these douchebags in my phone are the absolute worst!”

Ellie rolls her eyes again and turns to walk along the creek, “They aren’t the worst, you just have shit standards.”

“I do not.. all I’ve ever wanted was good guy, you know, someone jacked, kind, nice, sweet, preferably one that knows the difference between there, their, and they are,” you earn a chuckle from Ellie, a small ball of pride wells up in you, “Oh, it’s slim pickins,” you sigh, your eyes fixated on the ground, moving your feet carefully over the stones embedded in the creek bed.

Ellie groans before turning back to face you, the sudden turn jolts you into stopping in your tracks, “If it’s such ‘slim pickins,’ why don’t you go somewhere else, huh?”

“And what, leave you? You’d be so lonely without me,” you giggle and take a step forward, Ellie snorts are your comment, “Don’t turn your nose up at me, you know it’s true, if I leave, you’d have no one to hangout with besides the other ranch hands.”

Ellie begins her walk back, “Please, at least I wouldn’t have to deal with your moanin’ and bitchin’.”

You scoff, taking offence at her words, “Oh, shut your mouth.”

Ellie chuckles a bit, her eyes scanning the wooded area. Today, Ellie had been tasked with hunting down a lost calf. Her boots were muddy, brown button up flannel with a white wife beater underneath, shotgun slung over her left shoulder, and the bottoms of her flared jeans wet from stepping in the creek so that she could pick you up and place you on the other side because you had whined about getting your own jeans dirty.

You really were grateful for Ellie, even if she did roll her eyes every time you talked about your boy troubles, got mud on your white dresses, and called you names. She really was great girl, hell, if she were a guy, you’d be head over heels.

She’d be the perfect gentleman, from the way she carries you across creeks, gives you her jacket when she notices you’re shivering (even if it’s in the guise of her being too hot), and the way she decked that guy across the face last night for talking about how ‘easy’ you were.

“You know, Ellie,” your eyes scan her face as she hums out a ‘what’, “If you were a guy, you’d be perfect for me,” you giggle.

Ellie’s movements stutter, her cheeks dusted a pink (probably from the heat, right?), before she turned to face you with a scowl, “Shut up.”

Ellie’s eyes go back to scanning the forest, hoping that the landscape would help her to put you out of her mind. She was used to hearing you say stuff like that, complimenting her, giggling, making her gut twist at your would-be flirty behaviour. You were doing it to get a rise out of her but in all honesty, she loved it maybe it was because of the fact that she had a slight crush on you but, of course, you were oblivious and straight, at least that’s what she tells herself to stop herself from pouncing on you. If she acknowledged the fact that she thought you were into girls, her heart might implode from sheer joy.

You giggle and continue to walk alongside her.

Ellie can’t help but steal glimpses at you between glances through the forest. She can’t help but noice the way your hips sway back and forth as you walk, the way your braided pigtails bounce slightly as you make your way over the rocky ground, how your tank top rides up a little bit, and how—.

She clears her throat and runs a hand through her messy auburn locks, annoyed with herself for being so focused on you when she should be out looking for that damn calf. She buries those thoughts deep down and tries to keep her usual stoic expression, though it gets harder when she sees you fall straight into the creek, the water enveloping your body and causing your clothes to stick to your frame and for the white cloth of your tank top to become see through, allowing Ellie an almost full view of your lacey bra.

Ellie’s eyes widen at the sight, a slight blush spreads across her cheeks, she couldn’t help but stare, her mind suddenly filled with thoughts that, normally, she’d never allow herself to have. She clears her throat, trying to compose herself as she jumps into the shallow creek, “God, are you alright?” she grabs you by the arm, her eyes locked onto yours so that she doesn’t dare let them drift down to your chest, her mind is working double time from the way she’s trying her goddamn best to push the dirty thoughts away.

You sniffle and nod, “Y-Yeah, I-I slipped on a rock.”

Ellie can’t help but notice how your soggy shirt clings to your body, she tries to keep her gaze off you but it was getting too goddamn difficult. She holds her tongue, scared that whatever words threatening to leave her mouth will expose how much you are affecting her, she tenderly holds your hand to keep you steady, “Careful,” she mutters.

Her hand is rough, a clear indicator of all the hard work she puts into the farm and yours are so soft and fragile in hers.

Ellie realizes that she’s been holding your hand for a bit too long. She practically throws it down, clearing her throat again. She’s desperately trying to keep her cool but her the rosy tint on her cheeks is a dead giveaway, “You.. you should probably head back and change.”

“Are you kidding me? The farm is miles away,” you sigh and take your shirt off, wringing it out before tossing it over a nearby fallen tree, “It’ll dry off in no time if we let it hang up for a bit.”

Ellie’s mouth goes dry and she can’t help but stare as you strip out of your clothes. She’s never seen this much of your skin before and it’s making her head spin. She tries to look away but her gaze is stuck to you, almost like she has tunnel vision. She quickly averts her eyes, “Christ! Are you crazy?” She turns around, her back now towards you, slapping a hand over her eyes for good measure, “What if someone sees you, huh? Your father’ll have my head mounted on his wall,” she manages to sputter out.

You giggle softly, “Oh come on, we’re both girls and no one else is going to be out this far.”

Ellie swallows hard, forcing herself to keep her back towards you but allowing for her hand to fall to the side, putting her hands on her hips and looking down at the ground, “But-but still, its not…,” she sighs, “I know that, alright?,” she stammers out, her eyes fixating on a pebble, “Jesus, are you tryin’ to kill me?”

“What’re you talking about,” you laugh, “If it’s about my daddy, I’ll talk to him and tell him to mount your head in a nice place.”

Ellie groans, how could you be so oblivious, “It’s not about your dad,” she muttered, her gaze flickering back over her shoulder, allowing herself to take in the sight of you in your lacy panties and bra, “I just.. fuck, you should really cover yourself up, someone could stumble upon us and you’re too damn pretty, they’ll probably—.”

“What?”

“Fuck,” she says under her breath. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud but the sight of you damn near naked form was clouding her thoughts and making it difficult to think straight.

She hesitates for another moment, “Nothing, forget it,” she mutters, praying to god that you didn’t hear what she just said. but… of course her prayers weren’t answered.

“You think I’m pretty?” you giggle.

Ellie’s heart pounds as she wraps her flannel around you, her fingertips gently brushing against your bare skin, “Come on, you know you’re pretty,” she scoffs, putting up a wall and hoping you don’t think that the blush on her cheeks is for you.

You blush a bit from the way her raspy voice mumbles the words, “Thanks,” is all you can manage to say.

Ellie’s gaze softens a bit at the sight of you going all shy on her and how damn cute you looked in her oversized flannel, she looks away for a moment, trying to regain her composure. The proximity of your bodies is making it hard for her to think, the smell of your flowery sweet perfume is doing nothing to help, “Yeah, of course.”

“See, you’d totally be my type if you were a guy,” you laugh awkwardly, “No other guy compares you you but since the lord forgot my gay awakening, guess I’m stuck with slim pickins.”

Ellie’s annoyance spikes at your comment. It’s like youre constantly waving a big old pride flag in her face and you don’t even know it. She clenches her jaw, trying to contain her frustration at you obliviousness, she wants so badly to smack you across the face to knock some sense into you but instead, she bites the inside of her cheek and forces herself to take a deep breath and calm down, “Yeah.. slim pickins..” she says under her breath.

Ellie takes a seat by the creek bank, her eyes fixated on the rippling water as you take a seat next to you.

“Did I say somethin’ wrong?” you sit next to her.

Ellie shakes her head, trying to brush off the annoyance festering deep inside her, “No you didn’t,” she muttered.

“Then what’s wrong,” you sigh.

“Nothin’, alright?” she says through gritted teeth, frustration and desire bubbling to the surface and she snaps at you.

She regrets snapping at you immediately as she sees your expression fall, she knows she shouldn’t take it out on you, you’re just ‘confused’ or whatever. She takes a deep breath, her irritation spikes again when her eyes land on your bare thighs, slightly exposed underneath her flannel, “It’s just..” she began, her voice quieter now, “You don’t know how god damn frustrating it is to hear you complain about boys and shit all the time but you never stop to think about how hard it is for me. I’m right here in front of you, yet, you’re completely oblivious to the fact that I’m head over heels for you,” your eyes widen but she continues, “You said that you just want someone strong, sweet, kind, nice and know the difference between there, their, and they are, well, I’m all of those things! Hell, I could write a whole essay about the difference between the three of them, there is for places, their is for—,” before you can stop yourself, you press your lips firmly against hers.

Ellie’s words die on her lips, your sudden kiss surprises her and her eyes widen before shutting, her hands hesitantly fall on your hips, it’s almost like she’s scared that if she touches you, she’ll realize that you’re a hallucination of some sort.

After a moment, she returns the kiss, her hands moving from your wait to your face, her heart races with a mix of excitement and disbelief. Her kiss is hungry, it’s like a switch has been flipped, and all the pentup feelings she’d been holding back come rushing to the surface, she moves closer to you, her body pushing against yours, the of her’s warmth spreading through your soaked, shivering one.

Ellie pulls back for a moment, putting her forearms on either side of you, “God, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” she moves to kiss you again, pulling you closer to you by your waist and muttering between kisses, “I want you.. so fuckin’.. badly.. christ.. you have no idea..” she whimpers into the kiss, her hands move to the buttons on the shrit and she makes quick work of undoing them, despite her trembling fingers. Her mouth finds your neck, trailing kisses and soft nods along the delicate skin, her breath is hot against you as she continues to explore your body, she moans softly, “You’re driving me crazy.”

You let out soft pants as her hand makes it way into your bra, every noise that escapes your lips makes Ellie’s heart nearly leap out of her chest, the sounds sending a surge of desire through her. She moans into your chest as she nips at the skin, her hands roving over your bare skin, mapping out the curves and ridges, completely lost in you.

“This is so much better than I imagined,” she captures your lips in a headed kiss again, “You taste like honey.”

You tangle your hands in her auburn locks and pull her back in for another kiss, she moans into the kiss, biting your bottom lip softly as her fingers find their way into your panties.

She lets out a whine into the kiss as she feels how wet you are, her fingers rubbing you slowly, “You’re so wet.”

She smiles into the kiss as you let out a moan, “You like that? So much better than any guy you’ve had, huh?”

It’s like she can read your thoughts, can tell that you’re thinking about how she’s treating you better than any other guy ever did, her smile is cocky as she pushes two fingers inside, “Those guys didn’t know how to treat you right,” she growls against your lips, “Fuck, do you know how many times I wanted to finish the job whenever they’d leave you dissatisfied.”

You whimper around her fingers as they fuck into your poor cunt at a brutal pace, “E-Ellie, I-It feels too good,” you whine.

Her eyes gleam as she hears you whimper, she adds another finger and curls them upwards, hitting your sweet spot, “I’ll show you that you don’t need dumb boys.”

She places soft kisses against your neck, occasionally leaving a mark on you, desperate to claim what she’s wanted for so long, her fingers move in and out of you for awhile but right as you’re about to cum, she pulls them out.

Her eyes lock with yours as she brings them up to her lips, her pink lips wrapping around her now slick fingers. Ellie lets out a moan at the taste of you, the taste only making her hunger for you more desperate.

Ellie practically rips off her jeans before grabbing your waist and grinding her hips down against yours, she lets out a shaky moan at the feeling, she grinds her thigh against your bare leg, creating friction between her clothed pussy and yours, “Fuck, I can’t hold back anymore,” she whimpers and bucks her hips.

Your hands fall on her hips as you buck yours against hers. she leans her forehead against your shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut to focus on moving her hips at the same rhythm of yours, her panties becoming damp with her arousal, “Fuck, you’re moving so impatiently, huh? You did want this as much as I did.”

You whine against her shoulder, your brain becoming cloudy with need, “Ellie, y-you feel so good.”

She leans her head back and moans loudly, “I love when you say my name.”

With her head back, you take the opportunity to kiss her neck. She gasps and lets out a whine at the feeling of your kisses on her neck, her hips start to stutter as if she’s about to lose control.

“I-I’m already so close,” she whimpers, “Y-you feel so good, shit, keep moving, I wanna feel you cum against me.”

You buck your hips even faster, “E-Ellie, I’m close.”

She groans, the thought of you cumming is enough to almost send her over the edge, “Fuck, please, please cum against me, j-just let go, I-I need you to cum,” she brings her hands up to tangle in your hair.

You pull back, your glazed over eyes raking over her, her face is flushed with desperation and her body glistening with sweat, her chest bouncing slightly as she moves, it’s all too much for you to handle and it sends you over the edge, Ellie soon cumming after.

You both come at the same time, her cum and yours dripping down each other’s thighs, Ellie clings to you as she rides out her orgasm, trying to catch her breath.

She falls onto you, panning and after her body finally relaxes, breathing heavily, her eyes flutter shut before opening again. She pulls back slightly and smiles weakly at you, exhausted but satisfied. She kisses your forehead and caresses your cheek, “We should… we should look for that calf..,” she stammers awkwardly, unsure of what to do as she pulls back and pulls her jeans and boots back on, “Your clothes should be dry now too.”

︶⊹︶︶⠀୨୧⠀︶︶⊹︶

[a/n:] brokeback mountain?? more like uh… brokeback um…. LESBIAN SEX :D

[starset21]

Forgetful

Standard disclaimer: I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may currently be found is on tumblr .

A/N: Just a small little comfort blurb I guess. kinda feeling some feelings.

wc: 793

Warnings: reader feels unappreciated by her family. Google translated dutch.

Y/n had always prided herself on being the glue that held everything together. For years, she had juggled her job, her family, and her relationship, always giving a little more than she had to make sure everything ran smoothly. The laundry was always folded, the meals were always warm, and the schedules were always synced up. But lately, something had been off. It had started small, the way her family didn’t notice when she kept the house running, or when she made sure everything was perfect for their gatherings. The gratitude had dwindled, replaced by a list of things she had forgotten to do.

“You forgot the milk again, Y/n,” her brother, Alex, said that morning, his tone clipped, like it was the end of the world. “I asked you to pick up the dry cleaning. It’s not that hard,” her mom added as Y/n packed her bag, already late for work. “Why didn’t you make the calls to the insurance company?” her sister asked, like it was the fifth time she’d failed them this month.

Y/n stood there, her hands frozen, a familiar ache settling in her chest. She had done everything—everything—for them. She had been the one to keep track of birthdays, to organize pickups, to be the one who was always available to listen, even when she was exhausted. But today, all she had done was forget a couple of small things, and suddenly, she was the failure. It felt like she was invisible, like none of her efforts mattered.

Maybe it was time to take a step back, she thought. Maybe they didn’t need her the way she thought they did.

As the door slammed behind her, Y/n grabbed her keys, drove through the traffic, and headed to the place she could always find some peace: her boyfriend Max’s apartment.

Max Verstappen was not only the world’s fastest Formula 1 driver—he was, to Y/n, the calm in her storm. He was the one person who made her feel like she mattered without needing to ask for it. Every time she was with him, she could feel the weight of the world lift off her shoulders. She arrived at his place, a sleek, modern flat overlooking the city. When he opened the door, his face lit up in that familiar way. The rush of comfort she felt just seeing him was enough to make her heart soften.

“Schatje” he said, pulling her into a tight hug, the warmth of his embrace instantly making her feel a little lighter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she murmured, resting her head against his chest. He smiled softly, his fingers threading through her hair. “You could never interrupt me. You know that.” Y/n sighed, feeling the sting of frustration still lingering. “It’s just… everything’s so much lately. My family, they don’t appreciate what I do. I’m always the one taking care of everything, and when I slip up—just once—they act like I’ve done nothing for them. Like I’m invisible.”

Max pulled back, his hands resting on her shoulders as he looked into her eyes. His gaze was steady, unwavering. “You’re not invisible to me,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You’re the reason I can be the person I am. You take care of everything, but that doesn’t mean you’re meant to carry it all alone.” She bit her lip, holding back tears that threatened to spill. She had never asked for much from him, knowing how demanding his life was. But hearing those words made something inside her unravel.

“I’m tired of feeling like I’m not enough,” she admitted quietly.

Max stepped forward, cupping her face gently. “You’re more than enough, Y/n. You’re everything. And anyone who doesn’t see that… well, they’re blind.”

The words, so simple, yet so profound, hit her like a wave. In that moment, she realized something: she didn’t need validation from everyone. Not from her family, not from anyone. What mattered was that she was enough—for herself.

Max’s thumb stroked the side of her cheek. “You don’t need to do everything, Y/n. You deserve to rest, too. Let me take care of you for once, okay?” Her lips quivered into a small smile. “I think I’d like that.” Max chuckled, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Good. Because for the first time in a while, I’m not letting you go anywhere.” She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. As Max led her to the couch, wrapping her in his warmth, she finally felt like she was more than just the list of things she did for others. She was Y/n. And for the first time in a long time, that was enough.