#i haven’t played the game in months and I won’t start now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

twistedpink · 4 months ago

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Mc inserts x TWST characters pt.2 (OG post) (Pt.3)

(non-yuu pairings that fit into the plot of twst, if you like this then you might want to look at the first part!)

Savanclaw!Mc x Cater Diamond

Enemies to lovers with your favourite diva!! The two of you compete constantly through magicam and spelldrive, getting progressively pettier until the only solution is to kiss it out.. You’re trying to keep an ear out for your junior, and it just so happens Cater’s sniffing out your plan to go for gold in this year’s tournament. You might as well take the chance to mess with him! It’s so easy to love the face he makes when you give him the slip, and you’re totally making it your wallpaper when this is all over.

“Yo, Babe! If you’re in the same dorm, then you know Ruggie, yeah? We need to have a chat”

“Ohmigod you totally think all beastmen know each other, don’t you?? cancled :)”

Shroud!Mc x Vil Schoenheit

Ids attached himself to engineering and gaming pretty early, but your passion is fully unattainable. You’d clung onto pop idols and the art of stage makeup from an early age. Your longest running interest by far is Vil Schoenheit,, He rescued you from destructive habits and encouraged you to value self improvement. You’ve probably invested millions into his career (every thaumark sent anonymously, you’d die if he started to recognize your attached messages). Supporting Ortho in his SDC audition is your official reason to talk with him, and all the teasing from Idia will be so worth it when your Schoenheit debut palette gets signed! You’ve kept it in mint condition behind glass for years admiring it- and waiting for THE day.

“Mr. Schoenheit? My younger brother performed for you today, and uh, your signature please?”

“Normally I’d send both of you home for this. I’m sure you’re well aware of my paparazzi policy, However, I haven’t seen this particular relic in years! Just what have you done to preserve the quality?”

Pomefiore!Mc x Ruggie Bucchi

You’re #1 in the business of pissing off your parents- shopping copious amounts and then going to school across the country satiated you for awhile, but they’ve done something particularly revenge worthy now. The best scandal you can think of is getting a trashy boytoy to bring home for the break, but you’re not really into idiots.. Ruggie can be a very good actor given the right motivations, and he might even fool you into a real relationship before next semester.

“C’mon it’s not like I’ll need a script, sugar. I’m a natural, scout’s honor!”

“Either way, it won’t hurt to rehearse for convenience :/ Kiss me now so we don’t look stupid later.”

Scarabia!Mc x Floyd leech

God you hate that fish faced idiot >:( It’s bad enough that the housewarden’s moodswings guaranteed your holiday plans were all shot, but now Jamil’s getting hounded by the mafia! It’s your responsibility to get them off his back, but it’s not like you’re enjoying it. Somehow it’s even worse to watch Floyd when he’s playing dumb, and his emotional roller coaster keeps you walking on eggshells. The show must go on though, and if you’ve gotta play “wrestle until the biting stops” then you’ll do it :/

“Floyd, it’s dinner time, and I will tear you a new one if it means you’ll get moving.”

“PLEASEEEE tiger sharky just one more round :( I’ll even give your pen back!!”

Octavinelle!Mc x Kalim Al-Asim

You’re probably one of the most talkative of octavinelle students, and definitely a solid salesman. Kalim’s a prime target for resales and marketing practice, so naturally you join the pop music club. A year of “playing nice for the jackpot” leads you to lie awake at night, terrified that he’ll see through your facade and ditch you- it would cut off your best friendship, you’d be forced to leave the club! At some point you realize you’d stopped selling him things months ago, and your worst nightmare happened right under your nose. You fell in love.

“Hey, that solo was so inspiring! You’re really making progress!”

“It still isn’t on par with yours, though. Are you available to keep practicing after school? I’m sure Jamil would appreciate the break, and I would enjoy the company..”

Staff!Mc x Lilia Vanrouge

Of course your first job would come with some pet bat, it was too good to be true :( Full time at a bits and bobs shop near one of the best schools in the country WITH flexible hours? You must’ve been desperate to accept without reading about your babysitting in the footnote. He comes in everyday during your shift (regardless of the hours you take, it’s like he has a sixth sense), and has the audacity to exist in your space! It’s not like he even does anything to get banned!! He just stands there. Menacingly. You’re waiting for the day where he leaves convincing evidence that he’s there to traffic you or something- because if you didn’t know better you’d think he has a big, fat crush on you.

“Darling, how is the shop? I’ve taken care of those juvenile delinquents for you!”

“Taken care of? Whatever. Get back to class, kid.”

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sugarushwriting · 27 days ago

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red flag heeseung

tw/cw: controlling behavior, guns

i wrote this sooooo long ago, like last year when i first started posting?

i was going to do an entire red flag enhypen storyline but only got far with heeseung and jay

don’t want this sitting in my drafts so here yall go for entertainment! not proof read or updated since i first wrote this months ago!!!

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

“heeseung does this look cute?” you twirled for your boyfriend in your new outfit.

“where do you think you’re going?”

you pouted. “heeseung i told you me and the girls were going out tonight!”

“i don’t recall.” heeseung replied lazily continuing to play his game.

you crossed your arms. “heeseung, ive been telling you for the past week!” you raised your voice a bit. heeseung looked at you with an eyebrow raised pausing him game.

“i don’t recall me telling you that you could go.”

you bit your tongue then looked down to the ground, “heeseung it’s just, it’s my best friend’s birthday and i haven’t seen her in so long! i promised her i would go.”

“don’t make promises you can’t keep.” heeseung got up from his gaming chair. he kissed the top of your head. “now put some sweats on, let’s watch a movie.”

“but heeseung!”

“i said no, angel.” heeseung gave you the look which meant ‘the end’ of the conversation.

your pouting wouldn’t change his mind. “what if i wore—,”

“it doesn’t matter what you wear, angel, there are creeps out there and it’s my job to keep you safe.”

you walked up to your boyfriend grabbing his arm, “and you’re doing such a great job, babe!” you smiled kissing his cheek. “i will be safe.”

heeseung smiled, kissed your lips once. “no”

the entire night you had an attitude. you really liked heeseung, you did, but he was just so possessive and jealous to the point he’s controlling.

you literally learned this kind of behavior in classes, and always blamed those people for not noticing sooner. but now you were one of them.

you sat on the couch with heeseung, watching a movie, as his hand remained tight on your exposed thigh. you weren’t paying attention but he was laughing at whatever was being said.

your phone rang and you went to get it but heeseung beat you to it.

“she can’t make it tonight.” heeseung said into the phone. most likely to your best friend wondering where you were. you heard your friend screaming on the other end.

heeseung just smiled almost terrifyingly, but the smile was wiped off his face at something your friend said.

“goodbye, you are not to see her again.” he spat and hanging up the phone on your friend.

you swallowed, scared to ask what got him upset. about 10 minutes passed and heeseung’s grip had tightened to the point his nails were digging into your skin.

“ouch heeseung—,”

“what did you tell your friend about me? about us?”

“huh?”

heeseung’s dark eyes met yours. “she told me she had warned you about me. warned you about what angel? that im possessive and obsessed? that’s just because i love and care for you.”

heeseung’s tone kept getting deeper with every sentence, heavy breathing as he tried to control himself. he was good at controlling himself around others and in public.

you just made him crazy. mad almost.

his grip was threatening to leave a mark and he quickly let go, rubbing the spot soothingly, “sorry angel, i just don’t like people in our relationship.”

“it’s—it’s okay heeseung. i’m sorry, i won’t tell anyone else about us.”

heeseung smiled. “good girl.” he kissed your lips. “it’s getting late, why don’t we go to sleep?”

you didn’t dare to argue, so you followed heeseung to the bedroom, getting under the covers. he immediately pulled you close to his body, kissing you once.

it was a little after midnight, hearing heeseung softly snore you decided to get up out of bed without stirring him awake.

grabbing your phone, you snuck off to the living room sending your friend a text before immediately deleting the evidence knowing heeseung knew your passcode.

you tiptoed to the door picking up your shoes ready to sneak out until a hand landed on the door closing it.

a chest met your back, your body frozen in fear.

“where are you going this late?”

you turned to face heeseung, “the store. just to get some snacks. i woke up hungry.”

“you were going to go without me? ive told you its so dangerous out there angel. i cant have anything bad happening to you.”

heeseung rubbed your cheek with his thumb.

“so—sorry.” you mumbled looking down afraid to make eye contact with him.

“mhm? what? can’t look me in the eye knowing youre lying to me?” he spat.

looking up quickly, you tried to deny him but he held up his phone showing a text you had obviously sent to your friend.

you stuttered and utter confusion. looking up at him with knotted brows. “ho—how?”

“all your numbers were changed to mine.” heading whispered. “knew you were up to something.”

“heeseung,” you began to defend yourself but how?

“not going anywhere my angel. now let’s get back to bed.”

you walked back to the bedroom, dropping your shoes by the door. getting in bed, you quite literally could not comprehend how you got into a relationship like this. it happened so slowly and quickly.

laying down, you faced looking out the window as heeseung scooted your bodies closer so your back was to his chest.

in your ear he whispered, “try a stunt like that again and you’ll be punished. you belong to me and only me, understood? you ask for my permission first. i just care so much for you, i can’t lose you.”

“yes heeseung.” you replied softly.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

days went past. then weeks.

two months later you’ve became accustomed to heeseung’s routine. his possessiveness. obsession. controlling side.

he told you what to wear. when to wake up. when to go to sleep. what to eat.

you’d only be able to go into public with him. never alone. he couldn’t risk losing you.

he also was telling you to eat more than usual. anytime you would object, stating you’re full, he’d throw his spiel that he just wants to make sure you’re fed.

in reality to believe he was doing it to make you gain weight to become unattractive in the eyes of other men.

you heard him once mutter under his breath, “if she gains anymore weight, no guy will look at her again.”

you haven’t been in contact with any of your family or friends. heeseung stating to them you were taking a break from the use of your phone so if they wanted to contact you, they had to contact him.

heeseung made you quit your job, stating you wanted to focus on your mental health.

“it’s time for me to put a baby in you, babe.” he said one night. sex with heeseung before hand was enjoyable. now it felt like a chore.

you felt slimy cause although the way he was treating you was a big red flag, sex with him was still pleasurable in many ways.

your body betrayed your mind.

today, in a long time, heeseung was taking you to lunch with his friends at a restaurant downtown. usually he would keep you home, keeping an eye on the nanny cams he set up throughout the apartment.

his friends had wanted to see you. heeseung tried to convince them you wouldn’t want to come, but they begged, not buying it.

you walked out of the bathroom, dressed in a simple graphic tshirt, blue jean shorts that rested a few inches above your knees, and simple sneakers.

“can—can i wear this?” you asked your boyfriend shyly.

heeseung turned to you after spraying his cologne. he smiled walking closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “mhm, you know i love you in shorts, but i think i would love you better in pants.” he slapped your butt once then went back to looking at himself in the mirror.

“but heeseung, it’s really humid outside today, and i don’t want to become overheated, you know?” you bit your lip anxiously.

heeseung quickly turned to you, watching you twirl your fingers, before he said your name sternly.

“heeseung, i—i can wear something over my behind, ok?” you grabbed the nearest long sleeve button down that belonged to heeseung and wrapped the sleeves around your waist then turned around. “see!”

heeseung huffed. “fine. but only cause we’re gonna be late if we don’t leave now.”

heeseung kept a protective hand on you the entire time. in the car he held your hand tightly. walking into the restaurant his hand grabbed the hem of your shirt, gripping it between to fingers, before he wrapped his arm around your waist.

at the booth, you sat in between him and the younger, ni-ki, heeseung’s left hand tightly gripped on your thigh.

“so, how have you been?” jungwon asked as he stuffed his face.

you nodded. “good.”

“we haven’t seen you in a while!” jake exclaimed.

“yeah, we were starting to think heeseung had you locked away in a basement.” jay stated.

“i don’t have a basement.” heeseung answered flatly.

“then, we started to think heeseung had you tied to his bed, leaving you for dead.” sunoo joked.

you chuckled nervously, quickly turning the attention away, “anyway, how are you all! how’s university life, ni-ki?”

as the boys explained updated in their life, heeseung kept adding food to your plate. and whether it was new found confidence or because you had witnesses and were in public, you had enough.

“heeseung, i’m full.”

“angel, you need to eat more.”

“but i can’t.” you shot back. “i am full heeseung. to the point if i eat anymore i will get sick.”

“don’t be spoiled or rude. it’s not nice to waste.”

“is it wasting if it’s not my food?” you looked at him angrily. he looked back at you with a blank face.

shit, you were in trouble.

“heeseung—,”

“here, we’ll eat it.” jungwon said, grabbing your plate and splitting it between sunghoon and jake.

you could see heeseung’s nose flare, and you swallowed nervously.

“i need to go to the bathroom.” you blurted, looking at heeseung waiting for him to move.

“i’ll go with you.” he said and got up.

“she can go to the bathroom herself, man.” jay said, continuing to eat.

“she’s a big girl, she can go potty by herself.” jake laughed.

heeseung shook his head. “no, i can take her.”

“sit down, hee!” sunghoon said pointedly. “she can go to the bathroom herself.”

you quickly removed yourself from the booth, going to the bathroom, leaving your phone behind.

the only thing you had was your id and a bit of cash.

heeseung didn’t like being talked to like a child. but sunghoon was scarier then himself when he wanted to be.

heeseung sighed, sitting down, anxiously counting down to the time you’d be back. he’ll give you five minutes, and not a second more.

with time ticking, you quickly used the bathroom, washing your hands, trying to calm yourself.

if you walked back out there, you were done for. you knew you’d be done for. a tear threatened to escape, but you didn’t have time.

you had to escape.

looking up, there was a window in the bathroom, that you could fit through. it was small, but you’d fit.

you wasted no time, squeezing yourself through the window, briefly cutting your knee on a piece of broken glass in the windowsill.

once outside the restaurant, you ran. you ran as fast as you could.

after six minutes (due to the boys mentioning girls can’t pee as fast as dudes), heeseung had enough, and got up to go check on you.

“she’s fine!” jay groaned after him but heeseung didn’t care. he had a bad feeling.

walking to the women’s restroom, an older woman was coming out and heeseung put on his best charming smile. “is there a young girl in there?” he asked, giving the description of you.

the lady shook her head. “no, no girl in there.”

heeseung frowned. “are you sure?”

the woman nodded then went back to her own table.

heeseung ignored all manners and walked in the women’s restroom seeing it empty. no sign of you.

he looked up seeing the women’s window in the bathroom was positioned high off the ground, and it was closed. but there was a tiny speck of of blood on the sill.

“she’s gone.” heeseung spat as he got back to the table.

“what do you mean she’s gone?” jake asked, ignoring the concern and urgency in his friend’s voice.

“she’s not in the damn bathroom!” heeseung said. he felt his chest tightening and the walls caving in. “shit!” he ran a hand through his hair banging his fist on the table.

“calm down dude!” ni-ki said to the oldest.

“maybe she left because she actually did get sick?” sunoo offered with a pout.

“and not say goodbye?” jake asked, eyebrow raised.

“try calling her.” sunghoon said.

heeseung quickly took out his phone from his pocket, dialing your number.

his heart quickened hearing your phone ringing.

ni-ki looked down beside him, seeing the abandoned phone, picking it up, handing it to heeseung.

“maybe it fell out of her pocket?” jungwon shrugged.

or maybe you left it on purpose.

“fuck this shit!” he yelled storming out of the restaurant.

sunghoon quickly followed behind his friend, ni-ki trailing behind.

“what the fuck man? calm your ass down!” sunghoon spat.

heeseung quickly turned, pointing a finger. “don’t tell me what to do, park.” heeseung was seeing red. his hand covered his mouth. he was thinking the worst. “i have to go.”

without even much a goodbye he left his friends in confusion.

you couldn’t have gotten far right? you were on foot, in a neighborhood you barely knew and you were injured, somewhere.

his hand gripped the steering wheel before slamming his fist.

what if you went to the cops? he’d just say you’re insane and going through an episode.

but you don’t have any medical history with mental illness. and they would screen you and you would sure pass.

he only knew one place you would find your way to.

your friends place.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

you did find your way to your friend’s place. however she had moved. you went to her job and found her.

nothing needed to be exchanged or explained. she told everyone at her job not to tell anyone where she lived or that you had stopped by.

she quickly took you to her new place, a gated community on the other side of town.

heeseung knew where she used to live. not her new place. “i even got a new phone just in case that psycho was tracking me too.” she said.

“i’m so sorry.” you sobbed to your bestfriend on her bed.

“you have nothing to apologize for. i promise, i will help you get through this.”

“how?”

“well, we need to change your looks. luckily your bff is a hair dresser with mad skills! then, we need to change your name. i know a guy in the government that can help, no questions asked. then we get you on a plane to like hawaii or alaska.”

“we need to do that now!” you exclaimed sitting up quickly.

“we can do the first two things, but getting you to an airport is too risky. he’ll be watching most likely. trains or buses.”

that night, your friend dyed your hair to a completely different tone and color than what you had. now you understood why people didn’t recognize miley as hannah.

she texted her government friend, and he’d agreed to stop by the next day to help with the name change.

“we need to think of the most common name so if he tried to look you up, at least 100 other women would show up.”

you both agreed.

while over the next few days you and your friend plotted carefully, heeseung was driving himself mad.

your friend had moved. he went to her old place, threatened the new owner, and nearly got castrated by their partner.

he went to your friend’s job and common hang out spots, coworkers claiming they had no idea where your friend now lived (truth) and they hadn’t seen you (lie).

so, he waited outside her job. but you both were smart enough to realize heeseung may do that so she took off until you were safely out of the country.

when the time came to get on a plane with a different persona, you were anxious to say the least. but you knew you had to do this.

only carrying a duffle bag, you wore simple clothing, not wanting to bring too much attention to yourself, only shielding yourself with your new hair color and a hat.

you had 25 minutes until it was time to board your flight. your gripped your passport tightly to your chest, anxiously waiting.

you took in your surroundings, no one even paid attention to you which calmed you down a bit.

someone sat next to you. before you could even wonder why, with the plenty of spots empty, you smelled the familiar cologne.

your body froze.

a menacing chuckle fell from his lips, “you didn’t think you could get away that easy, huh angel?” he taunted.

he wouldn’t do anything irrational would he? you both were in public, with guards around.

you thought was answered when you felt something poke at your side, concealed from his jacket.

a gun.

how the fuck did he get a gun?

“heeseung don’t do anything stupid.” you whispered.

“i could say the same for you angel.” he spat, poking the weapon deeper into your side.

what you both didn’t notice was a younger couple had noticed the uncomfortable expression on your face, and the man noticed just a quick glance of the weapon. without making a fuss, the woman got up calmly to find an officer not in heeseungs view.

“do what i say, you won’t get hurt angel.”

you nodded slowly. “i’m sorry heeseung.”

“only sorry you got caught.” he scoffed.

three officers came up to you two, your eyes widened, heeseung remaining calm with a smile.

“is everything okay here?” one asked, directing his attention to you.

“yeah, everything is fine.” heeseung replied, not taking his eyes off of you, waiting for your response, digging the weapon deeper into your side.

“miss, mind coming with me for a few?”

you didn’t know if you should stay or get up.

“go on with them angel.” heeseung dared with a smile.

you slowly got up, and in a speed of light, heeseung had one arm wrapped against your neck, your back to his chest, gun pointed to your head.

the guards drew their own weapons, more coming to the commotion as people screamed and took cover.

“you make a move, i kill her!” heeseung shouted, cocking the gun.

“oh please no, heeseung! i’ll go with you, i’ll do whatever you want!”

“too late for that angel! i was nothing but good to you and this is how you pay me back?”

“put the weapon down, sir!” one cop yelled.

“if i can’t have my baby, then you all don’t deserve her either!”

baby. baby. baby!

“heeseung, baby, please put the gun down, please!”

he tightened his hold on you. “why should i listen to you, huh? and don’t promise you’ll be with me after this.” heeseung cried. “i know that’s a lie!”

“heeseung think of your baby!” you begged.

“i am thinking about you, baby.” he said kissing the top of your head, using your body as a shield.

“no, heeseung, your baby. our baby.”

heeseung froze, not sure if he understood you correct. “my—our baby?” he whispered, his voice shaking.

“look around hee, there’s children around. what if those were our kids hee? watching a stranger holding a gun to someone’s head?”

heeseung looked around seeing the kids you were talking about, hiding behind their parents.

“it—it worked?” heeseung smiled. “i got you pregnant?”

you nodded. “yes heeseung. please be a good father to our future child, and put the gun down. they need their dad.”

heeseung smiled and listened, putting the gun down. cops quickly got heeseung in cuffs, taking him away.

“i’m gonna be a dad!” he cheered.

a cop came up to you to escort you to an awaiting ambulance. “let’s get you and your baby checked out.”

you shook your head. “i’m not pregnant.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

the next time you saw heeseung was at his trial. and although you had a good lawyer he had a better one. one that ridiculed you to the max.

“so mr. lee, you’re telling me your girlfriend—at the time,” pointing to you, “enjoyed being manhandled and having rough sex?”

you argued, “i told him earlier in our relationship i liked dominate men, not to be abused!” you yelled.

that day, you learned just how gross and conniving heeseung and lawyers could be.

“mr. lee, you stated you even had evidence that she enjoyed rough sex? having it recorded?”

“what! i did not agree to that!” you objected.

you were being crucified, and although your lawyer and the judge tried their best to get it under control and throw out any evidence that wasn’t appropriate or approved, the jury had what they needed to make a decision even though they were told to ignore it.

to them, you were just a girl who thought she enjoyed bdsm but quickly realized you didn’t. making a quick decision to blame your boyfriend.

heeseung was found not guilty of domestic violence, abuse or assault. not guilty of unlawful imprisonment. he was only charged for unlawful possession of a firearm.

2 years. 24 months. he could get out in 6 months for good behavior.

“i’ll see you and my child in 6 months, angel.” heeseung smirked as handcuffs were placed on his wrists.

you looked him dead in the eyes, “i’m not pregnant. i never was.”

he frowned. he had no connection to you whatsoever now. he couldn’t control you through your child.

he failed.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

#enhypen drabbles #fanfiction #engene #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x reader #enhypen ot7 #enhypen heeseung #lee heeseung x you #lee heeseung drabble #lee heeseung #lee heeseung x y/n #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung drabble #heeseung x reader #heeseung #red flags

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on-leatheredwings · 1 year ago

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House Arrest

Yandere! Batfam / Bruce Wayne x (Fem!) Reader

For a request, Munchausen's syndrome by proxy with Bruce? Like, he keeps reader sick so she can't leave him or interact with someone outside the family. And maybe the rest of the batfam is in on it?

[a/n: Didn’t know if you wanted this platonic or not so I didn’t specify! In my head its romantic with bruce though lmao]

> word count: 1581

> Tw: gaslighting, munchausen’s syndrome by proxy, yandere-typical behaviors!

You sit in anticipation, foot tapping against the stone floor. There’s an entire miniature hospital set up for you down here in the Batcave. Respirators, diagnostics machines, and other expensive medical equipment that would be better served in Gotham General.

Helping people recover.

So patients could some day leave.

You used to love being in the Batcave. It was the family’s little secret. When you officially joined the family, the Batcave was now your secret as well. But ever since falling ill months ago, bedridden with a sickness whose cause continues to elude everyone… being here is depressing. You now notice it’s damp down here. Dark. Lifeless.

Bruce sits at the Batcomputer, the screen’s light painting over his face in a green wash. You watch his eyes scan line after line of your results. Reminds you of a typewriter. Methodical. Orderly. Nearly inhuman. When he sighs, your heart stops.

Fuck.

He turns to you, face grave. “You’re still ill.”

Your eyes start stinging with an onset of tears that you furiously try to blink back.

“... H-How ill? How bad? Am I any better?” you ask, as if bartering with him will make the situation any different. As if bartering with God ever made any difference for mere mortals such as yourself.

Bruce’s face is still.

“You haven’t improved.”

Your hopes crash down around you like glass. You aren’t better at all? Even though you haven’t had a fever in weeks? Even though you’ve been working out with enough energy to keep up with Damian? He was exerting perhaps only 10% of his effort, but still. Your lymph nodes aren’t even swollen anymore. Tim had told you as much, accidentally contradicting Bruce’s insistence that they had been earlier that morning.

“But I feel better,” you croak. You hear footsteps behind you approach and you swallow drily, nearly hissing at the offender. It’s Dick, and damn him. You don’t want to be placated right now.

“Are you experiencing any headaches? Shortness of breath?” Bruce asks, eyes still trained on you. You try to recall.

“... I may have had a migraine this morning…” At Bruce’s weary shake of the head, you blurt, “But it’s passed. I’m perfectly fine. And no shortness of breath.”

“... I’m sorry. But if you’ve been having symptoms like that, along with your being immunocompromised…” Bruce doesn’t even have to finish the sentence. You won’t be leaving the Wayne Manor grounds for a long time.

Fuck.

You feel a hand on your shoulder. You look up and see Dick, whose face is somber but offers an encouraging smile.

“Well, I’m back in town for the time being. We can hang out all the time.” His expression brightens as an idea pops into his head. “And I can call Tim, Jason, Duke–! Maybe even Cass and Steph… We can have a board game night tonight!” He sounds as chipper as you are miserable.

Damian approaches from behind, leaving the shadows. His arms are folded. “If that’s the case, I’ll humor Grayson and let him capture some of my fleet for once.” A popular choice was Risk, perfect for the family who’s entire lives revolved around combat and strategy. But you didn’t want to play Risk again. You didn’t want to have a board game night, no matter how many of the family came. You wanted to see people.

Other people. Everyone here is your family.

You want fucking friends again. You wanted a job again – a sentiment you would’ve laughed at even just five months ago. You wanted any semblance of a life again.

Bruce’s eyes haven’t left your trembling form once, two chips of slate-gray peering over steepled hands.

“Thank you, Dick. Damian. But I think she could use some time alone.”

Dick’s hand releases your shoulder, retracting as if burned. None of them are the boss here. It’s Bruce who is my warden, your mind whispers darkly.

“Right! Don’t want you to feel overwhelmed.” Dick sees himself out, taking Damian with him. “See you tonight.” And that feels like a sentencing to your fate.

Now the two of you alone, Bruce stands, offering his arm wordlessly. You know what this means. You take it, linking yours with his without thought or protest. Bruce liked to ensure you were always within his reach, as if you were prone to fainting spells. This was less humiliating for you than him carrying you through the estate, you suppose.

“Why, yes, let’s take a turn around the grounds!” you used to exclaim, making your voice posh and British, mimicking the regency romance movies you had been watching all the time.

Now, months later, you just sullenly allow him to lead you. Your surroundings pass by and you vaguely recognize that you are exiting the Batcave, walking through the manor, and out into the never-ending expanse of a well-kept lawn.

It’s a sunny, idyllic spring day after months of overcast winter.

And thank god you could still traipse outside when you wanted, even if fenced in. Bruce told you when you had first fallen ill that he had installed some high-tech, anti-air pollution gadget. Wayne Manor was effectively your own personal bubble. Fresh air was the only thing keeping you sane, lately.

You two pass by the garden, a labor of love Alfred started. You and Damian tend to it now… and mainly the latter, these days. You haven’t had any energy for gardening as of late. Fatigue is a symptom, you hear Bruce’s voice whisper in the back of your mind. But you don’t feel fatigue… rather, just depressed. But of course, isn’t fatigue a symptom of being depressed…? A familiar brain fog crawls into your mind. Your head was starting to hurt.

You look across the lawn, onto the horizon. Gotham’s dark skyline sits there, enticing. When night falls, it’ll glimmer and twinkle with light. There is a whole world out there. And, God, you love the Waynes, but they aren’t the world. You need to distract yourself. Bruce, ever the lover of pleasant silences, is going to have to distract you from thoughts that make you want to leap off the second story balcony of your bedroom.

Should you ask, “How’s work?” No. You find you don’t care.

“How’s Jason?” you say instead, feeling Bruce stiffen at the mention of his most tenuous relation.

He wasn’t around as much, but when he was, he was always relaxing with you in your room. You have a whole shelf for the knick knacks he brings. “Don’t worry. They’re clean,” he’d snort at his former mentor, because Bruce required everything to be thrice sanitized before coming into your possession.

“... Better.”

You’re glad. That’s one good thing, you guess.

“Bruce,” you croak.

He looks at you, face alight in expectation.

“Maybe I should just go,” you say, small and weak. Your eyes don’t leave the sight of Gotham skyscrapers, stretching to the sky. Bruce stills, stopping you both in your tracks.

“What do you mean, ‘go’?” he says carefully.

You remove yourself from his arm and gesture to the city. “Just go. Leave. I mean, I can’t stay here forever.” Bruce looks genuinely confused, as much as he can.

“Of course you can.”

“No, I can’t!” you screech. Frustrated, you tear at your hair. “I can just be an outpatient somewhere– I can go for hospital treatments every week– or everyday– whatever!

Bruce places his hands on your shoulders.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Rage flares in you and you gnash your teeth at him. By now, that all-too-familiar brain fog has flooded your brain. But you try to fight it. You have to fight it. Like trying to crawl out of rapidly-sinking quicksand, you fight it.

“I-I know what I’m saying. I’m saying–”

“You’re saying to just let you die,” Bruce sharply returns. “To give up, let you die, and leave us to grieve.”

“No–”

“Stephanie.”

You meet his eyes again at the name, which are resolute and as blue as ever.

“Cassandra. Duke.” Your stomach churns, imagining their smiling faces, turned into ash as your hypothetical passing. “Barbara.”

“Bruce,” you croak, pleading inwardly for him to stop.

“Damian.”

“Tim.”

“Jason.”

“Dick. Alfred.” You duck your head and your eyes meet the ground. The listing of all your loved ones pinches your heart, and you feel nauseous. You weren’t trying to leave them. You didn’t want to leave them at all.

“... Me.”

Your eyes sting with tears again. Why did he have to make it sound like that? Like you were seeking some selfish want, rather than trying to improve your quality of life. You feel your ambition and desire wane under the weight of guilt. You feel all sense of struggle start to disintegrate, lost to the fog in your head. Lost. You’ve lost.

Bruce’s eyes scrutinize you.

“As I suspected. You’re acting delirious. Manic. Delusional.”

Any semblance of protest dies in your throat.

“What?” you say. But Bruce is already leading you away towards the looming doors of Wayne Manor, away from the green of the grounds. Away from the light of the sun, and away from the skyline. He comforts you with familiar lines on the way to your bedroom.

You need rest. Alfred will brew his tea for you. I’ll call the kids to come tonight. We can play Risk. He pats your shoulder, stroking soft, deceptively warm circles with his thumb.

“You just need some rest.”

And not for the first time, you believe he may be right.

#yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #tw gaslighting #bruce wayne #mine

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meazalykov · 6 months ago

Text

wrong number

bayern munich frauen x lena oberdorf x reader

1/6, 2/6, 3/6, 4/6, 5/6, 6/6

summary: you're the honorary bayern munich teammate.

the excitement fills your veins as you land in lisbon.

you’re finally here, and it’s hard to believe. lena doesn't even know yet—you wanted to surprise her, to be there in person for the match of her life. it’s been a long journey from buying the ticket, keeping it quiet, and making your way to portugal, but every step felt worth it because nothing, absolutely nothing, would have kept you from being here to support lena in the champions league final.

hours later, you’re waiting anxiously in your hotel room when a knock finally comes. you open the door to find lena, looking tired but smiling, and her face lights up as she sees you.

"you made it," she says, stepping forward to hug you tightly. she lets out a deep breath, and you feel some of the tension melt from her shoulders.

"of course i did," you say, hugging her back, brushing a hand over her back.

"how could i miss this? tomorrow’s the match of your life. are you nervous?"

she pulls back slightly, her smile fading as she flops onto the bed beside you.

"yeah… a little," she admits, looking away.

"it’s more than that, though. i keep thinking about the final in 2023… it’s like this shadow hanging over everything. it won’t go away." her voice goes quieter, and you see just how much she’s carrying from that day that you’re unfamiliar with.

you sit beside her, reaching out to take her hand.

"do you want to talk about it? what happened in 2023?"

she nods, her gaze fixed on a spot across the room.

"it was against barcelona, with wolfsburg. we were up 2-0, and then everything just… fell apart. they scored three goals in, like, eight minutes. i felt so helpless. all those months of training, just to lose like that. sometimes it feels like i haven’t shaken it off."

you squeeze her hand gently.

"i can’t imagine how tough that must’ve been. losing on that stage, with everyone watching… it’s okay that it still hurts. a lot of people would feel the same. i also know that you’re stronger now."

she looks over at you, a small smile finally breaking through before giving you a light kiss.

"thanks. i don’t know… i’ve tried to push it out of my head, but tomorrow feels like a chance to finally put it behind me. i want to prove to myself that i’m not that same person who let it slip away." she whispers against you.

you run your thumb across her knuckles, trying to pour all your reassurance into that small touch.

"and you’re not. you’re here, stronger and smarter, and you’ve learned so much. but whatever happens tomorrow, you’re still amazing. i’m just so proud of you."

a soft blush colors her cheeks as she squeezes your hand back, her gaze meeting yours as her forehead rests against yours.

"thank you. it really helps, having you here. more than you know."

after a while, she heads back to her hotel room for a good night's sleep, leaving you with a warm, happy feeling that stays with you until morning.

it’s surreal, thinking back to a year ago when this whole thing started with a wrong number. now you’re here, in lisbon, to watch the woman you love play in one of the biggest games of her life.

the next day, you find yasmeen at the stadium entrance, her face lighting up when she spots you. she flew in from america just to keep you company, and you feel a rush of gratitude as you hug her.

"ready for the match of your life?" she grins, eyes sparkling.

"more ready than i’ve ever been," you laugh, feeling your own excitement build up. you’re both practically vibrating as you take your seats, and when the game kicks off, it’s all you can focus on.

seeing lena on the bench doesn’t dim your excitement—she’ll get her moment, and you know it.

the game starts off tense. city’s vivianne scores in the 20th minute, and the bayern fans around you groan. you try to keep your spirits up, leaning forward and clapping.

"come on, girls!" you shout in german, even though your voice is quickly swallowed by the roar of the crowd.

yasmeen chuckles beside you, giving you a supportive pat.

"you’re so into it already."

you grin.

"it’s impossible not to be. they’re incredible."

just before halftime, bayern’s perseverance pays off. in the 45th minute, klara sets up a perfect cross, and pernille rises up to head it in, tying the score.

you leap out of your seat, clapping wildly as yasmeen cheers beside you.

"yes! let’s go, harder!" you yell, grinning from ear to ear.

at halftime, a fan behind you taps your shoulder and asks for a photo. she’s wearing a lena jersey, and you assume she just wants a picture with "lena’s girlfriend."

you’re hesitant but smile and take the photo with her. when yasmeen teases you, you roll your eyes and laugh it off, though you can’t deny you’re a little flattered.

"look at you, getting famous," yasmeen nudges you.

"you’re practically the team’s mascot at this point."

"shut up," you laugh, feeling your cheeks warm.

"all i am is lena’s slightly anxious but very supportive girlfriend."

the second half starts off rough. city’s bunny shaw scores twice in under nine minutes, and the atmosphere in the bayern section gets tense. you bite your lip, glancing at yasmeen for reassurance as the clock ticks on.

bayern doesn’t let up. lea schüller scores in the 55th minute just one minute after shaw scored city’s third goal, and it feels like a breath of fresh air.

one more goal, and they’ll be even again. you clap, your hands sore but determined, and yell encouragement, hoping somehow the team can hear you all the way on the bench.

then, in the 68th minute, pernille gets her second goal, equalizing. the stadium erupts, and you jump out of your seat, pulling yasmeen into a hug.

this match has you on the edge of your seat, your heart racing with every pass, every tackle.

a commotion catches your attention near the right side of the pitch, and you see sydney in a heated exchange with alex greenwood. sydney is keeping the ball away from greenwood as the ref tries to intervene. you can’t help but chuckle as yasmeen leans over.

"what’s going on with them?"

"just sydney being sydney," you say, grinning.

"kidding. i’m not sure, maybe sydney just wants to give her team a breather.”

minutes later, in the 79th minute, lena stands at the sideline, preparing to sub in. your heart skips a beat as you slip off your light blue button-up longsleeve to reveal your oberdorf jersey underneath. yasmeen catches sight of it and snickers.

"i wonder if she’ll get a yellow card within the first five minutes."

"probably," you mutter with the pride in your voice. you’re just thrilled to see her out there, part of the game she’s worked so hard to return to.

she’s barely on the pitch when, in the 81st minute, she makes a classic side tackle on mary fowler, and you and yasmeen exchange a look.

lena gets a warning, but she’s unfazed, her focus sharp.

the clock’s ticking, and tension fills the air. then, in the 88th minute, lena sets up an assist to sydney, who powers the ball into the net, bringing the score to 3-3.

you jump up, screaming as loud as you can, caught up in the joy of the moment.

at this point, your mind starts to wander, reflecting on how far you’ve come. a year ago, you were just a student in virginia, living a quiet life. now, you’re in lisbon, watching the woman you love play in a champions league final, surrounded by friends and fans. it feels surreal.

yasmeen nudges you, drawing you back to the game.

"imagine if lena scores the winning goal."

"i hope," you murmur, watching her with bated breath as she passes the ball to tuva, who then lightly passes it to ana.

ana crosses up to klara, who leaps up for a perfect header. the ball sails into the net, and the stadium explodes in cheers. the scoreboard lights up,

4-3.

klara runs to the corner, celebrating, and you watch in awe as the team surrounds her. then she turns and sends a heart your way, her hands forming the shape in the air. you send one back, beaming as yasmeen chuckles beside you.

the final whistle blows, and it’s like the whole stadium erupts at once. the scoreboard is locked at 4-3, with bayern’s victory glowing bright, but it’s hard to believe until you see the girls flood the pitch, their faces breaking into elated, disbelieving smiles.

yasmeen nudges you, and you turn to see her beaming.

“they really did it,” she says, a little in awe herself.

“and they really love you, huh?” you laugh, heart swelling as you watch the team embrace, overcome by what they've achieved.

“guess i just got lucky,” you murmur, and you mean it.

after the immediate celebration dies down a bit, the trophy ceremony begins, the crowd cheering louder as each player receives their medal, eyes glistening with the weight of the win. confetti rains down, golden and shimmering in the stadium lights, and you feel a lump in your throat. they’ve worked so hard for this.

suddenly, you hear a voice calling your name. you turn to see sydney and tuva waving, beckoning you over. before you can process it, they’re running up, reaching over the barricade to pull you across it.

“you’re coming with us,” sydney insists, her grip firm, and tuva laughs, nodding in agreement. they drag you toward the heart of the celebration, and you glance back at yasmeen, who waves you off with a smile.

“go have fun!” she calls, and you smile back gratefully.

you barely have a second to catch your breath before you spot lena jogging toward you, her face flushed with happiness, eyes bright under the stadium lights. she wraps you in her arms, lifting you slightly, and you cling to her, laughing as she swings you back and forth.

“we did it,” she breathes, her voice full of amazement.

“you did it,” you correct, pulling back just enough to look at her. her eyes search yours, and you can see that same mixture of pride and disbelief.

“i still can’t believe it,” she whispers, her hands resting on your shoulders.

“it feels… surreal.”

you smile, brushing a strand of confetti from her hair.

“it’s real. and you deserve every bit of it, obi!”

lena smiles, a little teary-eyed, then leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, lingering there as if she wants to soak up the moment.

“thank you for being here,” she says quietly, and you can hear the depth of her gratitude, her voice soft and genuine.

“i wouldn’t have missed this for anything,” you whisper back, feeling your own emotions rise.

nearby, klara is holding the trophy, posing for pictures, her grin as wide as you’ve ever seen. when she spots you, she waves you over, gesturing for you to come closer. you hesitate, feeling a rush of self-consciousness.

you’re not a player, after all—you didn’t sweat and fight for this trophy like they did.

“come on!” klara calls, laughing at your reluctance.

“get in here!”

you make your way over, feeling a bit out of place, and she hands you the trophy, the massive silver and blue prize weighing heavy in your hands.

the moment feels surreal, and you look at klara, a little overwhelmed.

“are you sure?” you ask, voice soft.

she grins.

“absolutely. you’re part of this team, too, you know.”

lena’s hand slips into the side of your waist as she steps closer, nodding with a warm smile.

“she’s right, you know,” lena says, giving your hand a squeeze.

“you’re like our honorary teammate.”

you smile, heart racing, and glance around at the team gathered around you. it’s a strange feeling—this sense of belonging among these women who have worked and sacrificed so much.

they’re looking at you with genuine affection, the bond you’ve built with them over time stronger than you’d ever realized.

“alright,” you say, laughing, feeling a bit more relaxed as they crowd in around you.

“but only because you all insisted.”

they cheer, pulling you into the picture, arms wrapped around one another, laughing and shouting in excitement as the photographer snaps photo after photo. you can feel the joy radiating from each of them, the weight of this accomplishment shared and celebrated together.

when klara makes a heart with her hands, aiming it at you, your chest tightens with warmth.

yasmeen, watching from the stands, raises her thumbs up and laughs, mouthing “so popular!” and you give her a teasing eye-roll, smiling at her playfully.

finally, as the photos wrap up and the team disperses to greet more of their friends and family, lena pulls you aside to meet her parents, holding you close as you both take in the night.

the lights of the stadium are soft now, the crowd gradually fading, and it’s just you two talking to her family, standing side by side in the quiet after the storm of victory.

“i’m so proud of you,” you say to lena after her family leaves the stadium, voice thick with emotion.

“watching you play, seeing you out there after everything you’ve been through… it’s incredible.”

lena’s eyes soften, her fingers tracing the outline of your hand.

“i couldn’t have done it without you,” she murmurs.

“you’ve been here every step, even when i was sidelined and frustrated. you kept me going.”

you smile, your heart swelling with pride and love.

“that’s what teammates are for, right?”

she laughs softly, her gaze tender.

“then it’s settled,” she says, her smile widening.

“you are officially our honorary bayern teammate.”

the words echo in your mind, wrapping around you like a warm embrace, and you know that this night, this moment, will stay with you forever.

masterlist

authors note: I hope you enjoyed this six parts series :) I started it 10/1 and finished this part last night before a halloween party I had to attend lol

#bayern frauen #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #gerwnt #lena oberdorf #lena oberdorf x reader #lea schuller x reader #lea schüller #georgia stanway #Scottish sam kerr #ana maria guzman #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson #glodis viggosdottir #giulia gwinn

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inside-ptolemaea · 15 days ago

Text

CHAPTER 1: WITH LOVE COMES LOSS

❝ No one ever told me that grief felt so much like fear. ❞ – C. S. Lewis

Warnings: Allusions to PTSD, mention of gun violence, death, & drug overdose.

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

A/N: I had to make the title the instrumental from the last HTTYD movie (it doesn’t exist to me). Also big big shoutout to @clownprincesshq and all their amazing rants on Mark Grayson’s character— not only has it helped on getting a handle of how I’m going to write him in this fic, but it’s also made me actually want to post my writing on a platform.. which I have never done, so!! Their writing is top-tier & if you haven’t checked them out you definitely should.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

The soft ticking of the clock against the warm yellow walls vibrates in your teeth, jolting through your bones and reminding you to stay in the present moment. Across from you was a middle-aged woman with brown hair pulled neatly back into a slick ponytail; her eyes were kind and her posture welcoming. She said her name was Dr. Morgan.

“Uhm— overall or just today?” you ask unsteadily, trying — and failing — to cease the bouncing of your leg. It was only your first session with your therapist. Your aunt had said it was paramount that you seek help, as it’d only been a month since Spencer’s death.

You still couldn’t close your eyes without that moment replaying in your head.

Dr. Morgan smiles softly — the kind of smile that’s pitiful by nature but expertly disguised as sympathy. “Just whatever you’re wanting to discuss. This session is only to get a basic understanding of what it is we need to work on,” she says, but as though she senses your hesitance, she adds, “but don’t feel pressured to lay everything out today. We can work our way up to it.”

You let out a breath, fisting your grey sweatpants in your hands and focusing on the soft fabric.

In. Out. In. Out.

This wasn’t working.

Your head dips downward into your hands where you shield your face from what you suspect is an expectant stare from Dr. Morgan. She only wants to help you— you know this, but every time you tried talking about Spencer’s death, it was like your throat started strangling itself.

“I’m...” the words pause on the tip of your tongue, testing the limits of how much you’re willing to share. “I’m still having nightmares.. about that day, and I think they're getting worse,” you confess, but the tightness in your chest doesn’t alleviate.

You hear a faint scratching of pen against paper, but you keep your face hidden in your hands.

“I can’t sleep, I can’t eat.. I feel like I’m never going to be happy again.” your lip trembles and you’re forced to bite down on it to choke back the sobs. “My whole life has just fallen apart and everyone expects me to.. I dunno, get over it? Like I just need to accept that Spencer’s gone and I can't do anything about it.”

You hadn’t realized how much your voice was shaking until the room had grown uncomfortably silent.

Just as quietly, Dr. Morgan asks, “who's made you feel you can’t mourn? Has someone said this to you or is it something you expect people to say?”

“You don’t see the way they look at me,” you snap, your words harsher than intended. But Dr. Morgan doesn’t flinch— her expression is as gentle as ever. “Like I’m–.. just gonna break and fall apart. But I’m not.. I won’t. I just... can’t keep playing this game of pretend where my life is even remotely back on track.”

Dr. Morgan sets down the notebook in her lap onto the table in front of her. “You don’t have to act like your life is back on track. We don’t bear our souls to the world to get validation for our grief. Mourning is intimate — it’s subjective, and no one but you can tell yourself how to do it.”

You blink your eyes, unaware of the tear that’s now falling down your cheek.

“Fall apart,” Dr. Morgan says. “Fall apart as many times as you need, and tell yourself that it isn’t what defines you. Being here — acknowledging that you need help — does, and you should be proud of that first step.”

A slow nod of your head is the only indication you’re listening to her words.

“There is only one cure for grief: to let yourself grieve.”

─── ·𖥸· ───

It had started with strange occurrences.

After being transferred to the hospital on the night of the bridge collapse, the young girl in the room next to you had died. You didn’t know who she was or what she died from, but the unmistakable sound of a flatlining EKG monitor crushed any possibility of life.

You had listened to the defeated whispers of the medical staff as they walked by your room, either unaware or uncaring for your door that had been wide open.

So you had sat there. Listened to the surrounding sounds of distant footsteps and beeping. It was impossible to have let your mind drift in that moment— even more so when you started hearing the whispers.

And when you heard the voices in the hall, you wished you hadn’t.

A rejected kidney transplant. She was only eleven-years-old.

Death had been surrounding you that day.

You had dragged yourself out of that hospital into the night, numb and unaware to anything but the pain flooding every crevice of your being. You had thought that it was over, that the worst of your night had concluded.

But strange things continued to happen.

A wreck on the street leading to your apartment; a gun fight on the floor above yours, which felt like it had escalated with little warning; an overdose in the apartment below you.

Over a month of unexplained occurrences followed you like a storm cloud, engulfing your existence and plaguing your mind.

Confusion became your solace and uncertainty your charm in the perfectly imbalanced tide of your life. Nothing became something— something became suffering. And suffering was starting to become your normal.

Now, as you sit in the quiet of your living room, propped against the front of your sofa, you reach for the tv remote in the hopes that something of merit would be on. You needed something — anything — to alleviate the distress you had been feeling every day for the past month.

A small flicker of the television spurs it to life, and you’re met with coverage of a recent bank robbery that had been thwarted by Invincible. Your eyes are transfixed on the screen, glued to the every word of the reporter on the scene.

You don’t even realize your phone is ringing on the floor next to you, the name ‘Aunt June’ sprawled across the front.

“Authorities have apprehended the suspect, Michael Morris, after Invincible cleared the scene.”

Red and blue lights flash across the screen, painting your dark apartment walls in the bright hue. Your eyes hurt. Your skin itches. You aren’t aware of when it happens, but your arms are wrapped tightly around your knees, which you’ve pulled against your chest.

There’s a tension in your muscles that bubbles throughout your entire body. You don’t hear the reporter over the news anymore— all you can see, witness, feel is the bright red and blue lights of the police sirens.

Your phone rings again and for a moment, just a moment, you think it’s actual police sirens. Blinking your eyes rapidly, you reach down to grasp your phone; and when you realize your hand is trembling, you bite your lip.

“Hello?” your voice is breathless, but you ignore it.

The voice from the other side is one you’ve heard many times before. “Hey, sweetheart. How was your first appointment?”

“My– uh.. my what?” you ask, rubbing a hand against your forehead to disregard the dull ache behind your eyes.

“Your appointment with Dr. Morgan,” Aunt June says, a small pause in her words before she asks, “you did go, right?”

You want to slap yourself in the head for forgetting about your visit with your therapist only hours after it happened. But that was becoming typical for you— the forgetting.

“Oh, yeah.. yeah, I went. Nice person. Really, uh— really good listener.” you chew on your bottom lip to keep any more words from spilling out.

You can hear Aunt June sigh from the other side of the phone. Out of relief or irritation, you aren’t entirely sure. Part of you almost feels bad for her; that she has to put up with your shortcomings and the grievances that surely came along with tending to you.

“Good. I’m glad,” she finally says after a long stretch of silence. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

There it was.

The real reason Aunt June was calling you. Ever since the night Spencer died, she had been keeping tabs on your sleep schedule. You never asked her to do that— never asked her to care. Why she was so insistent upon it was beyond you.

The anger that surges inside of you is quick and instantaneous, something you know you'll feel guilty about later. “Yup. I’m all good on that front, Aunt June,” you bite with more force than necessary. “Speaking of which, I think I’m gonna go do that right now. Goodnight.”

You hang up the phone before she can respond and drop it on the ground next to you.

When she doesn’t call back, you pull your legs harder against your chest. You tighten your arms around them until you almost can’t breathe. Maybe you don’t want to.

The television in the background has drowned out by now, and you aren't paying any attention to it. Mostly because you don’t want to risk seeing any more flashing lights— too many things remind you of the night your life tipped over the edge. You don’t want to add television to the list of things you needed to avoid.

For all of Aunt June’s good natured worrying, she was right about one thing: you did need more sleep. Your eyes feel heavy and your bones ache. You don’t even know how long you’ve been sitting on the floor.

Pulling yourself to your feet, you feel your stomach flip as the world shifts around you. The only thing that keeps you from plummeting back onto the floor is your grip on your sofa’s armrest.

When was the last time you ate?

Then again, even thinking about food was making you sick.

Dragging yourself to your bedroom, you walk past the dirty clothes that had been begging to be cleaned for a month— but you never could bring yourself to do it. Every time you humor the thought of being productive, your body shuts down.

When you climb into your bed and pull the covers up to your chin, you stare out the window facing the city. Twinkling lights and boisterous gatherings mock you from below— they demand to know why you’re hiding in your apartment on a Saturday night.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve gone out to the city and had fun. It was probably with Spencer.

No. You can’t think about him.

Rolling away from the window so that it’s facing your back, you stare at the opposite wall, trying to ignore the weight in your chest that was suffocating you. You don’t know what to mourn: Spencer, your life, your lack of enjoyment for anything, or the memories of all of it you've tucked away inside a box at the back of your mind.

You lay there contemplating these losses until the nightlife below fizzles out and your clock reads 4:45 a.m.

Giving up on your attempts to find sleep, you sprawl out on your back and drag your hands down your face. You can practically feel the dark circles beneath your eyes growing bigger.

“This is so stupid,” you whisper in the isolation of your apartment bedroom. The only thing that responds is a faint whirring sound from the window.

Panic shoots through your bones and your head jerks in that direction. You’re not sure what you’re expecting when your wild eyes stare out the clear glass— did you just imagine the sound?

No, there was something there.

Slowly, as though whatever it is out there would flee if you move too fast, you close the distance between your bed and the window. Dark gray skies stare back at you, inquiring what it is you’re seeking.

You aren’t hearing things.

Something is out there.

Discomfort churns in your stomach as you remain at the window for a minute longer. You haven’t given in to the notion that your mind is playing tricks on you.

Because as you climb back into your bed and burrow yourself underneath the covers, one thing is abundantly clear.

Someone is watching you.

#invincible #invincible x reader #invincible fanfic #mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #x reader #invincible x fem!reader #mark grayson x fem!reader

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gpcwsl · 5 months ago

Note

Hi! for a caitlin foord request, do you think you could write caitlin foord x williamson!reader? reader isn’t an arsenal player but hangs out with the team a lot. maybe a party at leah’s and the team plays spin the bottle or something. thank you 💕

**Warnings** : Swearing, kissing, making-out, just an little suggestive and not probably read through. I am also not shipping any of theses people, it’s a fan-fiction work.

Caitlin Foord x Williamson/Reader:

An unexpected (spinning) twist.

Teaming bonding night was often. Very often for Y/N’s sake but she adores it either way. She loves her sister’s teammates, could never get sick of them.

Y/n wasn’t an footballer unlike her sister, who was one year younger than she was. She wasn’t as successful as Leah either, but she didn’t care one bit. Y/n actually haven’t got a job currently. She quit her job back in Leicestershire a few months ago when things got, well not great. Leah complained to her so many times to move away from there and come join her in London. So a few months in and things have really started to become so much better for her. And maybe more brilliant to come.

Again, Leah insisted on a team bonding small party at her (now hers and Y/n’) house. Of course, majority coming. Some being busy, having plans with their families or just wanting a chill evening which makes sense since they played a thrilling match. Alessia, Beth, Frida, Kyra, Katie, Caitlin, Emily and Lia. The ones were stocked to come.

Fast forward to around an hour later. Where everyone was talking, laughing around. Then the child, the pest of them all came up with an, terrible but not so terrible for the future, game.

Kyra insists that they should play spin the bottle. Everyone, and I mean everyone immediately deny her wishes. But, after a-lot of pestering. Here they are sat in a circle, on the floor.

“Okay, okay! Who will spin first.” Kyra asks, a big massive smile on her face.

“This is why we don’t invite you to stuffs, Kyra. Seriously? Spin the bottle is for kids, teenagers! Not grown adults!” Lia whines, hating the idea she might have to kiss someone.

“Come on! It won’t mean anything, just a little kiss. But, can’t be a peck. The kiss has to last at least five seconds long.” Kyra says, pointing out the rules which makes some groans and some curse Kyra under their breaths.

“Okay, okay. Lia since yours being mean, you spin first.” Kyra says, smiling smugly at the Swiss midfielder. Who rolls her eyes in return. “Let’s get this over with.”

Spinning the bottle it landing on Leah, who was opposite to her. Everyone ‘ooo’ as the two grow rose-red. Chanting ‘kiss, kiss, kiss.’ like a bunch on three year olds.

Leah makes the first move, leaning forward grabbing Lia’s chin; pulling her in, till there lips touch. Holding her lips on Lia’s for five seconds before slowly pulling away and retreating to her spot on the floor with beat red rosey cheeks, mirroring Lia’s.

Kyra then springs into action, wanting to spin next. Landing on Alessia. She immediately smiles up at her. Alessia rolls her eyes but there is a hint of enjoyment in Kyra’s actions. “Just get it over with.”

“By all means.” Kyra mumbles, smiling as she mirrors Leah’s actions. Gently grabbing Alessia’s chin; leaning forward kissing her softly, for more than five seconds as their lips move together. But then, Alessia breaks the kiss by shoving Kyra back in a playful manner, who then giggles in return. “Enjoyed that, Lessi?”

“Fuck off-“

“Right! Who’s next?” Kyra says, looking among the circle. “Caitlin?”

“Dammit-“ Caitlin whispers, as she shifts forward reaching for the bottle; mumbling curses words as she watching the bottle spin. As the bottle spins, it feels like it’s going in slow motion for Caitlin. Her eyes darting to a pacific figure across from her, who’s watching the bottle intensely. Huffing to herself before moving her eyes back to the bottle when it fully stops. Her eyes widen. Did fate do this? He eyes then going back to the figure, who now was already looking at her.

“No! No, no, no! I forbid for you to kiss anyone. I shouldn’t have even let you play this game.” Leah says, her sister manner coming in quick.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!” Everyone but, Leah, Caitlin and Y/n chant. Y/n smiles at her before leaning in. But whispering. “You sure you wanna do this?”

Caitlin nods her head, her eyes fixated on Y/n lips before being the one to close to gap. Hesitantly connecting their lips. Just like Kyra’s and Alessia’s. The kiss lasted longer than five seconds. But, it lasted longer than ten seconds. As their found a rhythm of the kiss. Caitlin’s hands going on Y/N’s waist does it for Leah. Who immediately pulls them away. “Okay, that’s it. Stop kissing.”

“Cock-blocker.” Y/n says, smirking at Caitlin. Leah rolls her eyes, smacking her sister’s knee. “Don’t care if you guys just expressed some feelings that were just discovered right then and now. Just expressed them alone. I don’t want to see my sister making out with one of my friends.”

Y/n and Caitlin blushes before Y/n steps in. “Could say the same thing for you and Miss Swiss over there.” Leah goes bright red, flipping off her sister. “I’m done, I’m tired; I’m just done.”

“Oh come on- some of you haven’t kissed anyone yet-“

“Kyra, it’s time for you to leave.” Leah says, shaking her head as she pushes Kyra towards the door.

Caitlin grabs Y/N’s hand, holding her back. “Hey, can we talk?” Caitlin smiles softly at her. Y/n instantly smiles back, nodding her head. Looking over her shoddier seeing the others are preoccupied. She moves the two of them to an oboe place, the hallway of the downstairs bathroom and garage. “What’s up?”

“I-I just wanna talk about the kiss we had and I wanna know if it meant something.” Caitlin says, her eyes fixated on the floor.

“Of course it did. I wouldn’t have kissed you longer than ten seconds if I didn’t.” I whisper, having an déjà vu moment as I leans forward cupping her chin. “May I?”

Caitlin nods, her eyes now on Y/N’s lips. Y/n places her lips on Caitlin. Not having any hesitation like last time. Her hands now fully cupping her cheeks as Caitlin’s slide around her waist. Kissing softly with a passion rhythm that gets slighlty out of control. Caitlin pushing her back makes Y/‘s back slam against the wall, groaning in response but doesn’t give any indication to stop the kissing.

Being to invested in the kiss, the two didn’t see or hear someone coming to them. “Caitlin? Are you leaving or- oh my god!”

The two breaks the kiss, breathing heavily, lips swollen as they look at the blonde defender. “Okay, I’m guessing you are staying the night. Just don’t make much of a sound, please.” Leah then walks away, her body shivering at the sight she just encountered. Y/n groans at her sister’s words, flipping her off.

“Am I staying the night?” Caitlin asks, smiling at Y/n. Her hands still in her waist. Y/n smiles back, nodding her head. “Yeah, I would love that.” “Me too.”

#leah williamson #arsenal women #arsenal #woso community #alessia russo #woso fanfics #caitlin foord #lia wälti #kyra cooney cross #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #caitlin foord x reader

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lovecla · 5 months ago

Text

FAKE IT ‘TILL YOU MAKE IT, phase three:

➴ chapter warnings: none :)

➴ word count: 2.5k

💌 from me to you: woke up with devils win and 500 followers this is INSANE! i never thought i’d have 20 followers let alone 500, literally half a thousand. thank you so much. i love you. also, if you haven’t seen it yet, here’s the story’s universe masterlist!

𖧷

A MONTH had passed since you and Nico started fake-dating each other.

You’ve already lost count of how many dates you both went to, how many times he’d held your hand or how many times you called him “baby” in front of his friends.

You can’t really say you’re fine, because you’re not. Apart from the lying thing not really being your thing, it’s exhausting to pretend that what you feel for Nico is just compassion and empathy.

Lying to your friends is terrible and you feel like the worst person ever, especially knowing that you all swore to always tell the truth about everything to each other.

But what really makes you hate yourself is the fact that you can’t help but feel like you’re lying to Nico too. You enjoy way too much the time you spend with him, and you pretend that what you both have is true whenever you’re with him, which isn’t part of the deal you both made. At all.

But now, it doesn’t matter, because today, out of all days, is the most important day of your fake-dating thing.

Today is Friday, and the Devils are going to play against the Chicago Blackhawks. And not only that, but some sort of dinner is going to happen after the game, and no one other than Nora Ellis is going to be there.

So, all this time, all this training, all this faking, led you and Nico to this day. The day you’ll both see if Nora will finally reach out to Nico.

And your plan already went well since last week Nico called you after his game to tell you the news.

“Hi?” you say as you answer the phone, balancing it between your cheeks and shoulder as you continue to cook dinner, stirring the chicken in the oven with a fork. “Nico?”

“Hi, Em,” he says back and you can tell he’s got the biggest smile on his face just by the tone of his voice. “Can you talk right now?”

You close the oven door with your feet and grab your phone with your right hand, properly adjusting it against your ear. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“So, I just got home, right?” he sounds so freaking excited that your heart decides it’s enough to make you happy for the entire week.

“Right?”

“And I opened Instagram to check some shit and you won’t believe it. Nora just followed me and liked three of my most recent photos.”

You stare at the clock that sits on top of your fridge, not really reading the time, just looking and thinking. Of course Nora would do something like this as soon as you and Nico started being more obvious both online and offline.

It infuriates you. It makes you feel something ugly inside your chest, and you have to close your eyes for a few seconds so you can focus. You can’t ruin this for him. Nico’s too precious for you to fuck this up.

“Em?”

“Oh my God, that’s so cool!” you put on your best fake excited face and try your hardest to sound happy. “Did you follow her back?”

Please say no, please say no.

“I kind of already followed her…” he coughs, and you can hear some movement. “But that’s a good thing, right? Your plan is working.”

You bite your lip hard enough to bleed, and the pain brings you back to the present time.

“It’s not… my plan only,” you stutter. “This is teamwork.”

“No, baby,” Nico chuckles. “This is all you. All of this is happening thanks to you.”

This is all you.

“Sure,” you whisper, squeezing the phone. “I’m glad it’s working, then.”

All of this is too confusing, but you don’t have time to try to understand what’s really going on inside you. You have a dinner and a game to attend, and you’ll be on your best behavior.

Thankfully, you managed to convince Mia and Ella to come with you, so when you leave your house and find Mia’s car parked in front of your door you smile, relieved.

At least you wouldn’t have to go through this by yourself.

“Hi, lovelies,” you greet them as you sit in the back seat, kissing both of them on the cheek. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Hi, Em.” Ella smiles at you, always the sweet angel she is.

“Hi, baby,” Mia also grins widely, turning the car on and getting out of the parking spot. “You look so freaking good.”

You look down at your own clothes: Nico’s jersey that he gave you a few weeks ago when you had to attend one of his games, a black, mini-skirt and boots.

“Thanks,” you smile. “I like it too.”

“You look like the perfect WAG.” Mia jokes and you laugh, as Ella shakes her head.

“Well, that’s probably what they’re calling me online so I might as well get used to the name.” You shrug, looking through the window.

“Don’t listen to them, Em,” Ella says, looking at you through the mirror. “They’re just mean and rude.”

“Fuck the haters!” Mia shouts.

“Yeah,” Ella smiles. “I guess you could also say that.”

𖧷

NICO LOOKS like a god.

He plays like one too, defying gravity and moving so fast your eyes can’t barely see where he’s going.

The arena is somewhat full, and you already lost count of how many people took photos of you and your friends, even when you’re in a secluded area, near the ice.

The shouts, the loud music and the sound of the puck being thrown from one side to the other is overwhelming, but you get through the first and second period just fine, Mia and Ella helping you a lot— you laughed more than you watched the game, and if you’re being honest, you were more interest in the gossip Mia was telling you than in the scoreboard.

Still, Nico looks good in his Hockey uniform. Good enough to eat. And even though you know you shouldn’t be thinking things like this, you keep telling yourself that, as long as no one knows what you’re really thinking, it will be fine.

“Here we go.” You hear Mia’s unamused voice and you turn your head back to the game, only to realize there was a huge fight going on.

“It’s so violent.” Ella murmurs beside you, and usually you’d just laugh at her sweetness and tell her that’s just how Hockey works, but when you catch a glimpse of the number thirteen in the midst of the sea of bodies and gloves being thrown, you can help but gasp out loud.

“Oh my God. It’s Nico!” You jump on your seat, getting close to the glass in front of you. “Nico is punching someone!”

“Geez, this is gold.” Mia laughs beside you but you can’t even get mad at her, you’re too focused on the punch party unfolding in front of your eyes.

It’s not the first fight you see, but it’s the first time you see Nico getting involved. It’s the first time you watch a fist hit his perfect, angelic face and it’s the first time you watch him throw the punch back.

He’s winning the fight, a small blessing, but you can see blood on his cheek, and your heart shrinks to the size of a pea.

“Why are the refs just watching?” You say, louder than you probably should’ve. But people are busy watching the fight, so you keep going. “Do something, man!”

As Nico throws another punch, the refs finally decide to jump in and separate all of the players. Nico ends up in the penalty box alongside Jack, who decided that protecting his captain was more important than keeping up with a clean game.

“I wish Jack had gotten punched in the face.” Mia sighs, like the fact that Jack’s face’s still pretty and intact annoys her.

“Mia!” Ella reprimands her, like a mother would, and you can tell they’re going to start their daily bickering about how Mia should stop fighting Jack (from Ella’s point of view) and how Jack should stop being an asshole (from Mia’s point of view).

You stare at Nico sitting in the penalty box with his head down, and you want nothing but to go there and hug him. You know he’s a big boy, and you also know that he was the one who started the fight (and won it), but you feel bad anyway.

The rest of the game flies by and you’re eager to see Nico. You want to hold him and ask him if he’s alright, or if he’s hurt and in pain. You want to see those two dimples adorning his cheeks like they always do, and you want to look into his hazelnut eyes and want them to look back at you.

That’s why you don’t even think twice before walking faster when you spot him entering the room where the dinner would be held, and that’s also why you hug him tightly, surprising him and everyone around you.

“Oh, hey, there.” Is what he says, and you catch yourself inhaling his clean, soapy scent before removing your face from his neck and standing in front of him, your eyes scanning his entire face, barely blinking as you stare at the bruise on his cheek.

“You scared me,” you can’t help but pout— it’s only natural when you’re this upset. “I look away for a second and when I look back you’re there, in the middle of everyone, throwing punches here and there and for what?”

“The guy was an asshole, Em,” he chuckles, only to wince with pain afterwards.

“You’re hurt, Nico,” you whisper, caressing his face with the back of your hand. “It’s not funny…”

“It’s Hockey, baby,” he shrugs. “I’ll end up getting hurt in one way or another.”

“I know, I know,” you whisper. “I just wish it wasn’t like this.”

Before he can answer, someone with a huge camera takes a photo of the two of you and it probably looks awful— you had a worried expression on your face, pouty lips, arms wrapped around Nico’s neck and you were also standing on your tiptoes.

“What—”

“Can I get a photo of the two of you?” the man, probably the photographer, asks and you’re suddenly too stunned to speak. One thing is for you and Nico to post subtle, faceless pictures of each other on your Instagram, another completely different one is for one of the team’s official photographers to take a picture of the two of you as a couple and post it everywhere.

“Well—”

“Yeah, you can,” Nico, always the nice, cool guy, answers for both of you, and before you can explain to him why this isn't a great idea at all, you feel his arms around your waist pulling you closer to his body, while your arms are still resting on his neck.

You try to remove them, only to have Nico tsc-ing at you. “Keep them there.”

You nod, dumbfounded, smiling at the camera in front of you, wincing slightly when the flash momentarily hits your face.

“Beautiful!” the man smiles, angling the camera again. “Now what about a kiss?”

You feel Nico’s body freeze beside yours, and you can sense how tense he is.

“Oh, I don’t think—” he starts speaking, stuttering a lot for someone who has just been asked something as simple as kissing his girlfriend. He’s red too, cheeks flushed like maple leaves during October. “Kids will see that, no?”

“Just a tiny peck, it’s no biggie—”

“Man, no—”

“Come on, captain, give the fans what they want—”

You’re about to intervene in their bickering when you see her. Nora walks in like she owns the place, holding her father’s arm with an elegance that should be illegal. She’s wearing a red, tight dress that holds her curves in all of the right places, her hair is braided and down and her gold jewelry matches her dark-skin so freaking well.

She’s stunning and she’s breathtaking and she’s looking at you and Nico.

“Nico, kiss me.” You whisper, and Nico looks at you with a worried expression.

“Em, we don’t have to do this, it’s fine,” he squeezes your waist and turns his head around, ready to tell the guy to fuck off probably, but you grab his chin and turn his head back to you.

“Nico Hischier, kiss me. Right. Now.”

You don’t give him enough time to answer, you just glue your lips together. His eyelids fluttered closed just seconds before you leaned in, as you closed your own eyes. It was slow at first, tentative, a brief connection that hung in the air before it deepened.

Your lips parted, and his followed, a soft press that turned into something warmer, more certain. Your hands found his arms, a quiet reassurance, while his fingers traced the curve of your jaw, the warmth of your skin sending a ripple of sensation through him.

Nico’s heartbeat was a rhythm, steady but quickening, like the rise and fall of the breath between you. There was a sweetness to it, a soft and tender give-and-take, as you were both tasting each other for the first time, exploring the familiar and the unknown in the same breath.

When you pulled apart, only a fraction of a second later, the world rushed back—sounds, light, movement—but there was still that lingering warmth, a spark that hadn’t quite faded.

And neither of you said anything, not yet. You just stood there for a moment, the kiss still hanging between you, both a question and an answer all at once.

“Woof,” the photographer laughs, putting the camera down. “Now that’s what we’ve been waiting for. Thanks, Cap, thanks Mrs. Roberts.”

Neither of you say anything, because you’re both too busy staring at each other like two…

Idiots.

“Emma—”

“Well, don’t you two make the best couple in town?”

You didn’t expect her voice to be this penetrating, this ethereal. But of course it is. It’s perfect, just like everything else about Nora Ellis.

“Mrs. Ellis,” you hear yourself saying, and suddenly, all of the feelings you didn’t even have time to process after kissing Nico become something horrendous and awful. “Thank you.”

“No need to be so formal, Emma, we’re the same age,” she flicks her hand, addressing you like you’ve been friends for the past ten years. “It’s just Nora for you,” she turns to Nico, her eyes showing something that makes you feel even worse. “And for Nico.”

Nico smiles, but it doesn’t really reach his eyes. “Nora. Nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” she bites her lip, smiling afterwards. It makes you sick to your stomach, and you remove your hands from Nico, placing them on your tummy. “So nice to finally meet you.”

Her words keep replying inside your head for the rest of the night, and you’re reminded of what you’re doing there in the first place.

You’re with Nico to make Nora Ellis fall in love with him.

You’re certainly not with Nico to make him fall in love with you, or the other way around.

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puck-bunnies · 1 year ago

Text

behind closed doors

umich!luke hughes x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw 18+, fingering, praising, choking, not proof read

word count: 2.3k

me and luke were never much of friends, never even talked much. at least, that’s what everyone thought. no one ever knows what happens behind closed doors.

i have not used this app in forever, meaning i haven’t written a fic in quite a long time so this is me trying to get back into writing. sorry if this is not great and a little rushed, i just haven’t written anything in like five months. anyways, try to enjoy this fic and ill try to write more as soon as i can.

i sit in the living room of my best friends boyfriends house, she sits beside me as all of ethan’s roommates take up every other seat. the lightning vs islanders game plays on the tv, having all of our eyes glued to it.

the boys are in a constant state of yelling, wether is celebrating, yelling at how stupid the refs are, or booing the other team. i’m not as invested as usual, my teams aren’t playing, but ill never miss an opportunity to a hockey game.

my mind also focuses on the close proximity as luke sits beside me, our thighs lightly rubbing against each other ever so softly. the warm summer weather left me wearing shorts and a tank top, causing luke’s hand to glide across my bare skin as he secretly places his hand on my thigh.

i never intended on sneaking around with luke, it all just happened one day, the house was empty and quiet. we got to talking, venturing from subjects like our classes, plans for our future, and somehow turning into our sex life.

he learned that i’ve never really gotten quite what i need, never feeling that spark with any guy that i’ve been with. them never wanting to try anything i’ve wanted to, i’ve never been fully satisfied.

he continued to tell me how he has slept around quite a bit. nearly almost always leaving the rink with some new blonde puck bunny stuck to his arm. he didn’t wear it as a trophy, or say that he regretted any of it, all just saying it’s apart of his past. his history he can’t and won’t change.

one thing led to another, his hands roaming my body as my lips bit down on his. my hands squeezing the mattress tightly with every moan escaping my lips.

we didn’t even stop there, whenever we could find a time to be alone, we were tangled in each others arms.

here we are now, not even able to keep our hands to ourselves in sight of one another. i try to shake his hand off, not wanting any of the surrounding eyes to see his intimate gesture. he doesn’t move, squeezing my skin harder. i softly pierce my bottom lip with my teeth, try to calm my nerves. i can feel heat bubbling up to my face, painting my cheeks with a faint blush.

my eyes peer over to him, giving him a pleading look to start behaving. he doesn’t budge, giving me a side smirk before returning his eyes on the game.

rutger groans loudly as the 2nd period finishes, “fuck the lightning.” he swears as they’re pulling a 4-1 lead. he chugs back the rest of his beer, throwing the can on the ground in some grown man temper tantrum.

the ads run during the commercial break, leaving the rest of us to disregard the television for the time being. my heart starts to quicken, without their distraction of the game they’re eyes could fall upon luke’s hand on me.

my mind tries to work fast, but the only thing i can think of doing is grabbing the blanket next to me and covering myself with it, concealing us from the wandering eyes. luke’s lips curl into a smirk, proud of me not forcing him off, knowing that i want it. that i want him.

his hand becomes bolder, rubbing up and down my inner thigh. i bite my bottom lip again, trying to stabilize myself from this new feeling. his fingers become more adventurous, going to the hem of my shorts.

“fuck.” i softly mumble to myself, luke’s soft chuckle tells me that he hears my light groans. his fingers don’t stop there, rubbing up to the bottom of my shirt, toying with the cotton material.

the pads of his fingers brush against my sensitive skin, right across the bottom of my stomach. fire engulfs my stomach, my breath hitches as he rubs softly back and forth, tickling my skin.

the game comes back for the final period, my eyes keep trained on the hockey game, but my mind can only focus on his touch as it drives me insane.

he feels my stomach hitch with my breath, he knows i want him so badly, he knows what he does to me. i squeeze my thighs together, trying to cause some type of sensation in my growing wetness.

i can’t take his teasing fingers anymore, “meet me in my room.” i whisper to him. rising from the couch and walking away from the crowded living room. i head for the direction of the bathroom, making them hear my footsteps as i lead their ears to the door closing. i stay outside the bathroom, tiptoeing to my room in an unsteady waiting of luke.

the door finally opens, luke quickly closing the door silently behind him. a deep breath is all i can hear from him, turning around to look at me patiently sitting on the foot of my bed. he takes a seat beside me, quickly gripping my hips and pulling me onto his lap.

“it’s been awhile since we’ve been alone,” my fingers rake up the back of his head, through his soft brown hair, my finger swirling around a curly lock. “too long.” a soft sigh parts from his lips as my fingers lightly scratch at his scalp.

he keeps his hands on my hips, roughly gripping at my denim shorts. “i missed your hands all over me. you can’t tease me out there and not expect me to want more.”

our bodies come closer, our lips so close together, our hearts syncing their beats. i can barely hold myself back from making up that final inch. “tell me how badly you want me.”

“i want you..” he shyly gives into my need. it’s not enough for me, i feed off of hearing how badly he wants me, his hands rubbing up and down my body, the feeling of his cock being buried deep inside me.

“oh yeah…” my lips attach to his neck, softly kissing down from his jaw.

finally he gives in, “i want to feel you against me, your lips on mine, every inch of your beautiful body baby.”

a devilish smirk spreads on my face, “mmm, is that right?” i mumble against his neck, softly sinking my teeth into his sensitive skin, sucking the spot to soothe it after.

“oh god yes.” luke practically moans out. his hands become adventurous, slowly going down to hold my ass in his hands, gripping at my clothed skin. they make their way down farther, gripping at my exposed thighs while my kisses go back up his jaw.

i crave for his taste, forcefully pressing my lips against his in a hungry state. my tongue quickly sliding into his mouth, hands combing through his messy curls, pushing him closer into me. he guides my hips back and forth on him, i can feel him hardening underneath me.

breaking the kiss to catch my breath, i drop my head onto his shoulders as i feel his hands press against my pussy. my hips still grind on him, but instead of just on his hard cock, it’s on his fingers. “mmm, you want me that bad?” he chuckles, i nod against his shoulder.

he undoes my shorts, exposing the top of my pink lacy panties, his fingers drag down them, going farther into my pants. they settle on my wetness, my hips stop rocking, focusing on the closer touch. “god you’re soaked.”

my lip sticks to my teeth in a harsh lip bite, my walls clench around nothing, begging to be filled by him. his fingers work slow and teasingly, rubbing circles around my clothed clit, watching me squirm on top of him. my back slightly arches, legs slowly opening wider for him to have better access to my aching pussy. “needy, are we?”

i softly whimper, my hips start to grind again, craving more attention from his teasingly slow hands. his fingers move the crotch of my panties aside, touching my wetness with his bare fingers, feeling my folds and them dripping for him. my head lifts off his shoulder, taking a glance down at his hand stuffed down my pants, looking back deep into his eyes.

i take a deep breath out, without a single warning he thrusts a finger in my pussy. making me loudly squeal with surprise. he quickly covers my mouth, stopping his finger in me. “you have to be quiet princess, you don’t want us getting caught, now do you?” he asks. i shake my head no, he hums at my obedience. “good girl.” his voice is in a whisper, softly praising me.

he begins to move his finger once again, letting me adjust to the new sensation before adding another, stretching me out for him. curling his fingers up to my g-spot. finally trusting me enough not to scream, he moves his hand off of my face, settling it down on my hip to keep me steady.

my hands grasp at his curly locks, trying to compose myself. as he adds another finger i bite down on my bottom lip, trying to keep the wanting moans from escaping my lips. a smirk spreads across luke’s face, watching what he can do to me with just his hands. i curse under my breath, dropping my head down to keep my brain straight, the pleasure slowly becoming less bearable.

his fingers quicken, hand comes off my hip and to my chin, lifting my head to force me to stare back into his eyes. “look at me while i’m finger fucking you baby.” my teeth puncture my bottom lip harder, my chest heaving with all the moans i keep to myself. i slip up and let on me out, hard hands hit my throat, softly squeezing. “i thought i told you to keep quiet?”

his grip loosens to allow me to take a breath, closing back up as soon as my chest rises. another finger slips in my cunt, my legs start to squirm, toes curling and hands squeezing his hair. his fingers losen from my throat, falling down to the straps of my tank top. he pulls one strap off each shoulder, one at a time. hooking two fingers at the neckline and pulling down, my tits falling out from my lack of wearing a bra.

he wastes no time before gripping my breast, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive bud. i clench around his fingers, my senses overloading with pleasure. he lowers his head, kitty licking my other nipple. i softly moan, not loud enough for luke to get me in trouble again, but enough for him to know the things he’s doing to me.

my stomach clenches, the feeling i know very well as my head starts to feel light. “i’m so close.” i whimper out. luke doesn’t let up, switching to my other breast, sucking on the nipple before softly biting the skin.

my whole body clenches as i feel my climax, luke’s quick fingers curling inside me quickly. it all comes raining down, my pussy clenching around him as i coat his fingers with myself. he backs up, letting me heave and fall down on his chest to catch my breath.

i quietly curse under my breath, squeezing my eyes shut to recover from my high. i life my head back up to look luke in the eyes. he removes his fingers from my folds, fingers coated with my cum. he slides his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean. my breath catches in my throat again, god damn he makes me want more.

“you’re such a good girl Y/N.” he pops his fingers out of his mouth, “i wish i could fuck you silly right now. but i want to keep all those precious moans to myself, when we can be completely alone.”

before i can even react to his words he puts his lips back onto mine, slipping his tongue in my mouth to let me taste myself. his fingers plant back onto my hips, helping me up to my feet so he can get out from underneath me.

“you go get yourself cleaned up and meet me back in the living room. i pray we weren’t gone too long for anyone to notice.” he whispers, fixing my hair from the sweat that beads on my forehead.

i nod to his words, giving him one last little kiss before he silently slips out of my bedroom. my try to regain my normal breathing patterns, my brain still fuzzy from my previous orgasm.

i obey luke’s wishes, tiptoeing to the bathroom to clean myself off. splashing water into my face to try to remove my blushing red cheeks. i walk back out to the bathroom, seeing everyone engrossed in the final minutes of the third period. i thankfully sigh, slipping back between the guys to sit back down beside luke. he offers me a light smirk, we both then back to the television, watching the game unfold.

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes x you #luke hughes imagine #nhl imagine #luke hughes fic #nhl fanfiction #luke hughes one shot #puck-bunnies

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ordering-milk-at-a-bar · 9 months ago

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The Apothecary’s Travel Guide Chapter 1

Quickly, before we begin, I want to set some things straight about this little fic series.

This fic will use Fem!Reader in both pronouns and body descriptions. I usually stick to gender neutral stuff, but this fic just works better with a female main character in mind (or at least I think so).

While I won’t be going into actual nsfw stuff (maybe in the future, I haven’t decided), this fic will still contain sexual themes and scenarios. This fic is meant for older teens and up. I don’t write with a young audience in mind, both for this fic and in general.

For those of you who are not familiar with The Apothecary Diaries (wtf are you doing here, go watch it), the series takes place in a fictional version of Imperial China. You don’t absolutely need to watch it to read this fic, but you will have a better understanding of things if you have (also, it’s just a really good show, very well written with one of the best female protags I’ve ever seen).

Also, this fic starts before Sunset, so the whole “Twilight is Wolfie” and “Hyrule can heal” things are not known yet.

–

It felt a little strange to be back in the busy streets of the pleasure district after spending months in the rear palace. But it was the good kind of strange. The smell of grilled meat skewers that you missed so much, the paper lanterns hanging overhead, people haggling for better prices in the street side shops, playing games on the side of the road, or drinking tea in teahouses. And of course, beautiful women calling men over to offer ‘special services’ in the many brothels.

It’s a sight you’re all too familiar with. Having grown up here, raised by the women of the famous Verdigris House, these things did not phase you. One would think that working in the palace would be quite the change of pace, but if there’s one thing that you’ve learned over the past however many months, it is that the palace and brothels aren’t all that different. A beautiful caged garden full of flowers for the emperor to enjoy looking upon.

In truth, if you had the choice, you would not want to have anything to do with the imperial palace, but given your situation, what could you do? You certainly didn’t ask to be kidnapped and sold off to the palace back then and you didn’t ask to be promoted to lady in waiting to one of the four highest ranking concubines. You were doing just fine as an apothecary back in the pleasure district, thank you very much.

You had originally attempted to stay low, worked as a simple, low ranking servant until your contract expired and then head home. You hid any signs of value that could get you promoted; you hid your ability to read and write, as well as hid your ‘true beauty’ so you wouldn’t become a concubine (even if a servant could only ever become a low ranking concubine). Any extra money you would have earned from those promotions would just be swiped by your kidnappers, anyway. At least you still got paid for your regular work.

Had things originally gone according to your plan, you would have worked hard and been released within three years. However, now that goal post has been moved quite a bit.

But you shouldn't be thinking about work right now; it was your day off, after all. You were back home (after managing to haggle your way into them letting you leave the palace) and that’s all that matters right now.

I should get some radishes and chicken for soup tonight. You thought as you walked down the street of the makeshift market. You hoped that your father had been eating well. He was never all that good at feeding himself. If he was starving for a few days, the old lady from the Verdigris House would force something down his throat.

Speaking of the Verdigris House, you should probably head there later. Both to say hello to your ‘big sisters,’ but also so you could take a bath there. They’d likely want some medicine, too, now that you thought about it. The last time you delivered medicine there was the day you got kidnapped.

Heh. Even on my day off I’m running errands.

With your little morning shopping excursion done, you stuffed the ingredients into the basket you carried on your back and started heading to that familiar little shack you affectionately called home. Dad should be in the fields tending to the plants right now. Honestly, he was getting too old for that trek, especially with his busted knee, but you couldn’t deny that he loved that little garden he’s cultivated over the years. Not like you were any different when it comes to your passion for medicinal herbs. As your master, he taught you everything you know about medicine; what herbs work in which situations, what to use and what to avoid, how to make medicine, what plants, mushrooms and animals were poisonous and which weren’t, etc. He was a very learned man, having studied both eastern and western medicine. With a few more years of teaching, you might be as good as him, or you hoped so, at least.

Finally you reached the calm little neighbourhood you grew up in. It was on the very outskirts of the city, not even protected by the tall stone brick walls. Looking at the small sizes of the houses, barely larger than your average shack, told people that this was where the poor lived. It wasn’t much, but it was home. Truth be told, your father was an excellent medical expert, even having worked in the palace before from what you’ve heard, but for all his skill and knowledge, he had terrible luck, which is why he ended up living here instead of somewhere more fitting for his stature.

But when you got to your little childhood home, you were met with a worrying sight. A woman you didn’t recognise, worry and uncertainty written on her face, knocking on the front door of your home. That’s strange, did she need medicine? You didn’t recognise her servant uniform, but she seemed to be from one of the inns in the area.

You called out, catching her attention immediately. “Are you looking for the apothecary? He’s currently out, but I can leave him a message.”

“Please help, it’s a medical emergency! Someone’s been poisoned!”

Your face immediately turned serious as you dropped your belongings before running inside the shack to retrieve an emergency med kit. “Lead me to them.”

People had gathered around the doorway of the inn, clearly all in a panic, but not sure on what to do.

“I brought the apothecary. Please step out of the way.” The two of you moved past the seemingly small army of staff and patrons.

What you saw seemed to match what the woman had told you before. A man lying on the bed, restless, breathing erratically, hands clenching at the fabric of his clothes right over his heart. Immediately you entered your ‘work mode,’ practically diving next to the man. First, a physical check up.

You pried open the man’s eyes, looking into them; you checked his pulse and stuck a finger into his mouth. Judging from the spittle running down his chin and trace amounts of sick on the bed sheets and his blue scarf, it’s safe to say that he had vomited. Still, you pressed down on his solar plexus to induce more of it. It would help expel whatever caused this reaction, but it would also dehydrate him. There was a hrrk, and spit came pouring out of his mouth, which you wiped away with the bedsheets you had gripped.

Suddenly, a new man with brown hair and eyes came running through the door with what seemed to be a waterskin in his hands.

He was just about to offer the water to the man you were tending to, but you shouted at him: “Don’t let him drink that! Charcoal- we need charcoal!” The startled man dropped the item onto the floor, but recovered just as quickly, running off once again to retrieve the required item.

You repeated this process several times on the victim; making him vomit, wiping the bile away ad nauseum until nothing but stomach acid came out. The man was able to breathe much easier now, no longer hyperventilating. Thankfully, at your request, the charcoal had arrived just in time, which you quickly ground up with your mortar and pestle.

“This’ll be rough on his throat, but it’ll flush the toxins out of his body.” You spoke as you poured the fine powder into his mouth. Some of the men, who you assumed to be the patient’s associates, had gathered around the two of you, clearly worried.

“Wa… Water. Please…” Those were the first words you heard him speak, weak, but nonetheless a sign that he was recovering.

“Not yet. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to endure this a little bit longer.”

Though unhappy, he accepted and resigned himself to his scratchy and dry throat for the time being. Finally you were able to remove yourself from the bedside, letting the other men move the patient while the inn’s servant ladies removed the soiled linens.

First damn thing in the morning and I already have to deal with an emergency. I only just got back. You grumbled in your mind as you looked at your filthy hand. Ugh. I really need a bath. You sighed both from relief and exhaustion.

“You doin’ okay, Captain?” One of the taller men with brown hair asked while holding him up so he could stand.

The patient - now identified as ‘Captain’ - took a breath. “Much better.” He then turned his attention towards you. “Thank you. I was certain that I was a goner.”

“I am simply doing my job. There is no need to thank me.” Utilising some water in a pitcher that one of the servants offered, you wiped your hands with a damp cloth.

You then took out a wooden slip, wrote just a couple characters on it and handed it over to the servant woman who you first encountered. “Deliver this to doctor Luomen and bring him here. He should be by the south wall.”

With that, the servant gave you and everyone else in the room a small bow before leaving.

The man with a blue hat turned his attention to the patient, who had once again been laid down onto the cleaned up bed. “Now I know that stuff took you out; you didn’t even try to flirt with your “guardian angel”.”

“So that’s your impression of me?” The sarcasm in his voice was evident. “Glad to know that it took me almost kicking the bucket to change your opinion.”

Within about half an hour, the servant had returned, your father in tow. It took longer than you had hoped, but given your father’s age and condition, it wasn’t all that surprising.

He took a good look at the patient and asked some questions.

“I suppose you did an adequate job here.” He gave you his trademark gentle smile after he was done with his examination.

“‘Adequate’?” You ask, annoyed.

A man who you assumed to be the owner of the inn came into the room. “Thank you, doctor Luomen. You are the best medical expert one could ask for.”

“Don’t thank me. My daughter did all the hard work.”

“Tell me, how much do we owe you? Name your price.”

“There’s really no need-”

You nudge your father’s side with your elbow. “Can you pay rent this month?”

“Ah… Well, in that case, I’ll take the usual fee.”

This was one of his habits; undercharging for his work, or even failing to charge at all, much to your distress. You understood the desire not to take money from people who were already struggling to get by, but this was not the case.

A tall blond man in heavy armour came up to you, holding out a small-ish sack. “Please, allow us to reimburse you as well. We owe you a lot.” Seeing no reason not to, you accepted the item.

With that, your father and the inn’s owner head into another room to discuss payment, leaving you to gather up your tools.

From the corner of your eyes, you noticed a few of the men fidgeting nervously or giving each other glances. They obviously wanted to say something. You didn’t know why they were hesitating. Sure, you might have sharp, mean-looking eyes and you didn’t smile all the time, but there’s no reason for these numerous grown men to act like this around you.

“Can I help you?” You broke the ice. No point in delaying this.

The one who you assumed to be the leader cleared his throat. “Actually, we’d like you to answer some questions we have. We’re travellers from afar, you see, and we don’t know much about this place or nation.”

They came all this way here and they don’t know the first thing about where they are? “You’re in the country of Li, specifically in the capital city of both the nation and the Central Province. I’m not going to judge how you choose to spend your time, but if you wanted to go sightseeing, I wouldn’t exactly recommend coming to the pleasure district first.” You raised an eyebrow. Just who were these people?

You saw that a few of the mens’ faces had turned bright red when they realised where they were. “Ha! Told you that this is where we ended up.”

“Are you implying that you frequent these kinds of places, Captain?” It sure seemed like these two had a penchant for arguing. Even during the time while you were waiting for your father to arrive, you noticed that they kept butting heads.

“Enough, you two.” The oldest shot them a quick glare. “Either way, it’s good we left Wind with Four back at the city outskirts. Both because of the inappropriate nature of this place- no offence…”

You shrugged. “None taken.”

“... But so that they wouldn’t have to see you get in trouble like this.”

“You are the apothecary here, right? If so, then you should be familiar with people who have gotten injuries.” You nodded. “Have you heard anything about encounters with any strong monsters, particularly those with black blood?”

Alright, now you were really confused. Monsters? Black blood? Was this some kind of way of informing you of a new disease spreading among the troops of enemy nations? But if so, why not tell this to an army physician instead of a random apothecary?

“Can’t say that I have.” You spoke up after having given it some thought. “Though I have to admit that I have been working in the inner court for the past few months, so I’m not caught up on the goings on outside the palace walls. But if you are telling the truth, I’m certain I would have heard rumours.” Thinking back, Xiaolan - a girl you had grown a friendship with when you were a simple servant at the palace - sure loved her gossip, and if there was one thing she loved more, it was sharing that gossip with you over tasty snacks and food.

“Thank you anyways.”

While this conversation didn’t seem like it yielded much, it did get your gears turning. It was time to do some espionage- or rather, some investigating. Something you’ve gotten pretty good at lately, if you said so yourself.

“Please wait here while I get you some medicine.” With a quick bow you left the room. In truth you had already prepared the medicine while waiting for your father to arrive, but this was still a convenient excuse.

As quietly as you could you hid yourself behind the sliding door and pressed your ear against it. Sure enough, once the men in the room believed you to be gone, they started talking. Words like “monsters,” “eras,” “shadow” and others got thrown around as if it was common knowledge, yet it only served to confuse - and intrigue - you further. One thing was certain; these were not your regular, run-of-the-mill travellers.

Your earlier talk also gave you an opportunity to scrutinise their appearances. Given their unfamiliar clothes and armour, plus features like light coloured hair and eyes, and their utter lack of knowledge of where they even were, you assumed them to be from a distant land, the west, most likely. But that was before you noticed one curious detail that they all shared; pointed ears.

This one thing had you calling things into question. Sure, the world was a large place, but in all your years of studying medicine and the human body, you’ve never heard of any group of peoples with such a distinctive feature.

But now came the question of what to do. What were you going to do about this suspicious group? Should you report them in case they were here to cause trouble? To be honest, you didn’t want to get involved. No point in sticking your neck out for these strangers and possibly risk getting accused of treason. You’ve done your job, you healed them, and you’re about to give them their medicine and leave. There’s no need to let them occupy your mind anymore. You’d steer clear of them from now on. Yeah, that sounded good.

Finally, you pretended to have returned from your ‘excursion’ and knocked on the door. Given the sudden silence from the room, it was safe to assure that whatever they were talking about was not for others to hear.

Walking up to the Captain still in bed, you handed over a small paper bag. “Please take this for the next few days. It’ll ease your stomach and help with getting rid of any lingering toxins. I would recommend drinking it as tea.”

The one who you had identified as ‘Legend’ from when you were listening in groaned. “Ugh. This whole thing’s been a wash. You guys ready to head back to camp?”

A unanimous ‘yes’ was heard.

Ironically enough, you could not get those men out of your head. Was your intuition trying to tell you that there was something wrong with them? Or were you simply curious? They were certainly the most interesting people you’ve met in some time.

They had already left the inn and you had headed in a different direction. You did finally manage to get that warm bath you were looking forward to. And getting to speak to your ‘big sisters’ at the Verdigris House was nice. But still your mind was occupied with something else. Damn it, this was supposed to be your day off, but you haven’t been able to relax completely!

You kicked a small rock in front of you in frustration. Hopefully having dinner with your dad would help alleviate your problem.

Suddenly you felt an all too familiar feeling of being pulled backwards.

Well, this wouldn’t be your first kidnapping.

And Wars will have to suffer through that dry, ashy throat for the remainder of this fic- lol jk.

A.N Fun fact: did you know that other than Twilight (who has lived among humans for a long time), technically, Legend is the one who has interacted with humans the most? The people of Koholint Island had short, round ears, as did the people of Holodrum (Oracle of Seasons), Labrynna (Oracle of Ages) and Hytopia (Tri Force Heroes).

#linked universe x reader #lu x reader #linked universe imagines #lu imagines #the apothecary's travel guide #ta'stg

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brainddeadd · 7 months ago

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Everyone is convinced you aren't actually dating

Matthew Tkachuk x fem!reader

“Are you sure you two are really dating?”

You rolled your eyes for what felt like the millionth time that week. You were standing in the hallway after a game, leaning against the wall while Matthew wrapped up some post-game interviews. The entire team had been convinced for months that you and Matthew were just pretending to date. No matter how much time you spent together or how often you showed up at games, they refused to believe it was real.

“I mean,” Brady Tkachuk, Matthew’s brother, said with a teasing grin, “I haven’t even seen you guys hold hands. Where’s the PDA? The romantic gestures?”

You crossed your arms, giving him an exaggerated look of disbelief. “Just because we’re not all over each other in public doesn’t mean we’re not dating.”

Brady raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “I don’t know... sounds suspicious to me.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, just as Matthew emerged from the interview area. His hair was a little messy, still damp from the shower, and there was a relaxed grin on his face when he spotted you. He walked over, slipping an arm around your waist with ease, and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Hey,” he said softly, then glanced at Brady, noticing the way his brother was giving you both a look. “What now?”

“Brady still thinks we’re faking it,” you sighed dramatically, leaning into Matthew's side.

Matthew laughed, shaking his head. “Really? Again?”

Brady shrugged. “I mean, there’s no *proof*. You’re always so... chill. No cute couple moments, no cringy pet names. It’s like you’re roommates or something.”

You and Matthew exchanged an amused glance. This was an ongoing joke among the team, one you didn’t really mind playing into. It wasn’t that you and Matthew weren’t affectionate; you just didn’t feel the need to show it off constantly. Behind closed doors, things were different. But to everyone else? It was like they wanted proof.

“Well, you’ll just have to keep wondering,” Matthew said with a smirk, tightening his arm around you as you both started walking away from Brady. “We’re mysterious like that.”

“You’re just trying to keep the suspense up!” Brady called after you.

When you were out of earshot, Matthew chuckled and leaned down to kiss the top of your head. “They’re never gonna let this go, huh?”

“Not until we make out in the middle of the locker room or something,” you joked.

He grinned, his eyes full of mischief. “Oh, so that’s the solution?”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Absolutely not. Let them keep guessing. It’s kind of fun, actually.”

Matthew nodded, smiling down at you. “Yeah, you’re right. We don’t need to prove anything to anyone. They’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Or they won’t,” you added, “and we’ll just keep messing with them.”

Matthew smirked, clearly enjoying the idea. “I like the way you think.”

As the two of you made your way toward the exit, the playful banter and constant teasing from the team only solidified what you already knew: you didn’t need grand gestures or flashy moments. The quiet, easy way you and Matthew understood each other said it all.

#matthew tkachuk x reader #° braindead writes

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hyukalyptus · 10 months ago

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i need to tell you—idol!soobin x gn!reader | besties pining after each other, right person/wrong time, angst.

cw. angst, suggestive but not smutty, kissing, swearing, i think its a gn!reader? pls lmk if it's not and i'll fix it, reader is from LA and is a performer, reader had feelings while in a relationship but never cheated, mentions of a breakup, kinda implied it was a shitty relationship, lmk if there's anything else. notes. please lmk if there's anything that isn't gn! wc. 2.8K

I never thought this last night with you would happen—I’d known for months you’d be going on a three-month long tour soon, but I didn’t want to believe it. You’d fly in from LA, we’d hang out, play video games, and hide our feelings from each other. Then you’d go back to California, we’d text and call as much as we could, you’d come back, and it would all start over.

But not seeing my best friend for three months, if not longer, sounds terrible. I take all of you in—your chin resting on your knees that are pulled to your chest, the city lights flickering across your face, the shape of your nose, you look stunning as ever. Your lips are squished by your knee pressing up on your chin and god, I wanna kiss you so fucking bad.

There’s nothing better than being on tour, but part of me wants you here with me forever.

But I can’t tell you any of this. Our feelings are undeniable but they need to stay a secret. You’re in a relationship—albeit a dead relationship, but a relationship nonetheless. More importantly, though, you’ll be leaving for three months tomorrow morning. We can’t start something now.

Or maybe it’s the perfect time to start something. It would be the perfect way to say goodbye. Then again, I don’t wanna add stress to your already stressful tour. You get anxious so easily. Maybe it won’t be that long.

“When do you think you’ll be back in Seoul?”

You blink out of your thoughts and say, “My last show is in Seoul actually, so…late October, early November.” I nod, taking another sip of my soju. “I don’t know how long I’ll stay though.” You shrug, leaning back on your hands. Turning away from me, you say, “I’m gonna miss you.”

Looking over at you, please just look me in the eyes. I want to see your beautiful eyes as much as I can before you leave. I wanna see you look at me the way you do before you say goodbye—a glint of hope and longing. I need to tell you—

“I’m gonna miss you too.” That’ll have to do for now. Surely I’m being overly dramatic about all this. I don’t know. You look at me, but glance down as soon as our gazes meet.

“You’ve become, like, my best friend out here.”

Another reason why I can’t tell you my feelings. I can’t…I can’t do that to you. You need a friend out here. And if you don’t feel the same way about me—even if I think you do—you’d never talk to me again. And then you’d have no one out here.

“You’re one of my best friends too,” I add.

“Ah,” you scoff. “I got hit with the ‘one of’.” I chuckle with you, running my fingers through my hair as you stand to your feet. “I think I should go.”

No. You can’t. I need to tell you—

Standing up to join you, I’m only a few inches from you. I reach for your hand, but you pull it away to adjust your jacket sleeve.

“Are you sure you wanna go?”

“On my tour?” Your eyes finally meet mine, like are you crazy? And yeah, I kinda am. “Yeah, I think I should go still,” you chuckle.

“No, I mean,” I start. “Are you sure you wanna leave right now?”

“Oh.” You sigh, looking down at the cars driving down the street, watching the train that we spent hours on go by, watching the lights of the agency building flash. “I need to.” But you don’t want to. “My flight leaves in six hours and I haven’t even started packing.”

“Let me drive you to your hotel?” Please.

Reluctantly agreeing, we drive in a devastating silence, like we both have the same thing on our minds. And that we both know we have the same thing on our minds.

Arriving at your hotel, I pull up to the drop-off driveway and you start to hop out. No. Don’t go yet. I need to tell you—

“Why don’t you park and walk me upstairs?”

I have no idea where this is going, all I know is I’m walking next to you down this hallway with my hands shoved in my pockets while your arms are crossed. Standing in the doorway, you lean back against the door, fiddling with your thumbs, refusing to look at me or open the door.

Working up the courage, you look up and say, “I’ll see you soon, yeah?” I nod before we say our final goodbyes. The door shuts behind you slowly. No. Not yet. I need to tell you—

Walking away defeated, I hear a door behind me open, but I keep my eyes on the ground. A quiet “Soobin?” comes from behind me. I turn, welcomed by you pulling me into a hug. Your arms wrap around my neck and mine around your waist for what feels like forever. But it’s not enough. No. Don’t pull away yet. I need to tell you—

Looking in my eyes, you bite your lips as you shift your weight. I can't help but think you’re about to say exactly what I want to hear right now. “Thanks for being such a good friend.”

Letting out a soft laugh, I smile and say, “No worries.” You wave at me and turn back toward the door before I say your name. Turning back, you wait for me to say something while your hand rests on the handle. Please. Don’t go yet. I need to tell you— “I, uh…” I need to tell you. But I can’t. “Good luck.”

“One more hug?” Oh, thank god. I nod, managing to keep my excitement from being too obvious. Your arms wrap around my shoulders again while mine fall around your waist, you face digging into my neck. I breathe you in, wishing I could just kiss you already. Pulling apart, you don’t move your arms away. You look in my eyes like you want to say something more. But you don’t know what. Or if you should. “You know,” you start. “I, uh…I wouldn’t be mad if…”

“If…?”

“Are you gonna kiss me or am I gonna have to—“

That’s all I need. My lips crash into yours. It’s slow. And sweet. Your lips are soft, made kissable by that chapstick you’re always making me carry in my pocket. My hand is on your cheek as you smile against my lips and I lean into the kiss to deepen it. Breaking the kiss, you laugh out loud, your head falling back before you look up at me again. You’re so close to me.

“For fuck’s sake—I’ve been trying to get you to kiss me all night,” you say.

“What! No you haven’t.”

“We’ll, maybe I’m not the best at sending signals…” My lips find yours again, but only briefly. “Spend the night?” My eyebrows raise. I don’t know if I should—starting something like that right now is a little risky. And it would make saying goodbye that much harder.

“Don’t you have to leave for the airport in, like, four hours?”

“Eh,” you shrug. “Yeah, I guess so, but I’d like it if you stayed.” You smile— “We don’t have to, like, do anything. I just wanna…” you take a deep breath, “spend more time with you. Wanna say goodbye in the morning, not right now, you know?”

I let go of her, backing away. “I dunno if I should…”

“Oh.” You drop your arms to your sides. “Okay. Yeah.” Crossing your arms, you nod softly and bite the inside of your cheek.

“I want to but,” I sigh. “I just don’t know if it’s a good idea tonight.”

“I-I just meant hang out,” you shrug. “I’m gonna be packing most of the time anyway. I mean, you definitely don’t have to,” you say. “Just thought you might want to.”

I keep repeating to myself you’re in a relationship. You’re in a relationship. You’re in a relationship. We already kissed—what’s the harm in spending the night without sleeping together? No. I don’t want us to start like this.

“I think I should go,” I say, saying our final awkward goodbyes. I’m walking away, but I know you’re still standing there, leaning up against the doorframe. Hope is trying to bubble up as I wait for you to call out my name again. But I’ve told you no. So I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. I would do the same. Although I just wish—

“I broke up with them.”

“What?” I turn to face you, chewing on your thumbnail as you slowly smile at me before giving me a nod. That’s it.

Rushing back to you, I hold your face in my hand before kissing you again. We breathe each other in, arms wrapped around each other.

“Are you being serious?” I ask you through my deep breaths. Biting your lip, you nod with a smirk. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I dunno, I’m sorry,” you start. “I guess I just—I guess I was embarrassed that it took so long,” she says. “And I didn’t want you to think I broke up with them for you. I broke up with them—”

“For you,” I say. You look up at me, mumbling a soft yeah before I say, “It’s okay,” I chuckle, peppering your face and neck with kisses while you giggle and scrunch your shoulders. “God, I’ve been wanting– to tell you–“ I say in between kisses. “For so long– that I have the biggest– crush on you.”

“I know you do,” you laugh. “I have the biggest crush on you too.”

“Seriously?” You nod and I don’t let up with the peppering of your face with my lips.

“Okay, okay—“ you say. “Lemme get the door open.” Laughing, you reach in your back pocket for the key, waiting for the buzz and the green light. As we stumble through, we kiss again, both of us in each other’s trance. The room’s spinning, I feel like I’m floating. Our hands roam everywhere. Mine settle on your backside to squeeze while you hum against my lips. Fuck.

“You know,” I say in between kisses. “I know you said we didn’t have to do anything but I wouldn’t mind—“

“Oh yeah, we’re definitely having sex tonight.”

“Okay, good,” I laugh, picking you up by your waist to walk you to the bed. Sitting down, you straddle my waist—always smiling, giggling, being sweet. “You sure?”

“Ah, you’re so sweet,” you say, holding my face in your hands. “Here is me giving consent, yeah?” I nod. “Soobin, yes, I want you to fuck me.” Smiling into a kiss, you break it before saying, “Your turn.”

I say your name confidently, swiping a thumb across the apple of your cheek. “Yes, I wanna fuck you.”

“Oh shit,” you say, your expression drops. “This is really happening.” My eyebrows stitch together; do you not want to— “I mean, you’re really here,” you say, looking over my face, squishing my cheeks to make my lips pucker. “You’re like…real.”

“Are you okay?” I ask through my pouty lips. Groaning, you lift off me to plop down on your back, rubbing your forehead with your fingertips.

“Fuck, I dunno.”

“Um,” I start, resting my hand on your thigh. “It’s okay. We don’t have to,” I say, watching for your reaction. Even if you do want to, there's a voice in the back of my head screaming at me Don’t do this! It’s not the right time! But there’s another part screaming Remember how long you’ve wanted to be with her!? You sit up, sitting criss-cross while you fiddle with the hem of your jeans.

Looking up, you look into my eyes, trying your hardest to put together the words you want to say but don't know how. But I know what you mean. “Soobin…I’m so sorry.”

Shaking my head, I say, “No, no it’s okay. You don’t need to apologize.”

“I just don’t think right now is a great time to…y’know, start something like this.” Well, at least it sounds like it would’ve started something, not just end with us having sex. “I just think,” you start, reaching to run your fingers through my hair. “It would make saying goodbye harder.”

It would be the perfect way to say goodbye too though, no?

“Yeah, you’re right.” I smile. And you are. I can’t imagine how shitty it would be tomorrow morning waking up next to you knowing I can’t see you for three months. Or even worse—you’ve already left and didn’t wake me up to say goodbye. “Let’s not—”

“I do want to though,” you sigh. “Just not right now,” you say, biting your cheek while playing with the bedsheets. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to, like, get your hopes up, I dunno.”

“Hey, listen,” I say, reaching for your hands. “I was happy when you came out of your room to give me a hug but kissing you…” I hold your face in my hands. “That was—do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?” You shake your head. “I honestly couldn’t tell you either. I don’t remember a time before wanting to kiss you.” Tilting your head, you smile up at me shyly. “But we shouldn’t do anything unless both of us are ready, okay?”

Nodding, you say, “Yeah, okay.”

“You want me to stay?”

“Yes please,” you say. “If you’re comfortable with that?”

“I’ll tell you what…I’ll stay if you let me kiss you again,” I say. “If not…well, then I’ll still stay but you’ll be left kissless.”

“I can’t be left kissless, can I?” You joke, wrapping your arms around your shoulders, pulling me closer. Our lips meet again and it’s just as nice as the first time around. You’re so…perfect is the only way I know how to describe you. We’re trying, trying to tell each other what we want to say. And I think we can both hear it. But not saying it out loud is a pain I don’t know if I can bear. I can feel you start to pull apart, but I can’t yet. This can’t end.

We hesitantly pull apart and you look at me, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. You’re absolutely fine. I promise.” But I know you’re not apologizing for not sleeping with me. You know you wouldn’t need to apologize for that. I know what you’re truly sorry for. And I’m sorry for it too.

Tears start to pool in your eyes. Everything is a bit…much for you right now. You know you’re hurting me, you know you’re hurting yourself, but there’s nothing we can do about it. It’s simply not the right time. You need to focus on work and you need a friend while you’re gone. You don’t need to be dealing with a brand new relationship. I get it. I’m in the same boat as you are.

“Hey…” I hold your face with one hand. “Dance with me?”

Sniffling, you nod while I let go to turn music on my phone. A song I know you love—Unforgettable by Nat King Cole.

“Ugh,” you say, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “You’re too sweet.” Wrapping around each other, this is the closest we’ve ever been. Your arms are around my waist as you cuddle into me, mine are around your shoulders, one of my hands on the back of your head. Your sniffles rattle me inside and out. Our hearts beat against each other as we sway, your cheek against my chest as I place gentle kisses to your forehead.

This song is saying everything we want to but can’t. Except for that one thing. Those three words that are being repeated in our heads over and over. We both want to, need to say it, but we can’t. Now’s not the right time.

Right now, though, this is perfect. You in my arms, moving to the music with me. And it all feels right, despite that one thing that’s missing. Our lips pull at each other like magnets until they’re pressed together gently and softly. I graze my thumb over your tear-stained cheek and you smile subtly against my lips. Your sniffles are dying down, but they’re still there. They’re still breaking my heart.

Breaking the kiss, you look up at me and your lips part to say something—I know exactly what you want to say, but I shake my head. This isn't the right time. Closing your mouth, you keep looking at me, taking deep breaths before laying on my chest again.

Your sniffles start to pick up again—more sporadic, uneven. A tear falls onto my neck and—god, I don’t know if I can handle this.

“I do though.”

Your voice is strained and devastating. I absolutely hate hearing you like this. I can’t even bring myself to try to look at your face. My heart’s already broken. But seeing your face right now…it’d shatter it into a million pieces and would never be mendable.

“I know,” I say, kissing your temple. “I do too.”

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evilwriter37 · 14 days ago

Text

I haven’t publicly said anything about this yet but it’s really weighing on me, so:

I have an oncology appointment next Tuesday.

I’ve been growing more and more tired by the day, which is to say energy is almost nonexistent now. I already have CFS pretty badly, so this drain is completely ruining my quality of life. I can barely do the basic things to take care of myself, never mind the things that I enjoy.

And it’s breaking me.

I want to write and read and create art and pick up that electric violin my partner got me and play video games and—

You get the picture.

Sitting upright is a drain of energy. I have to save a lot of spoons for meal times so I can sit up and eat.

And, oh, yeah, have hardly felt a single hunger signal in about 3 weeks. I’m keeping up with eating to take my meds and because it’s a habit I made for myself in my eating disorder recovery. It’s so fucking hard to do right now though.

I’m now rapidly dropping weight despite changing nothing about my lifestyle save for the fact that I’m even more sedentary than before. I won’t get into my actual weight, but have been seeing my doctor rather frequently to keep track of all this, and I lost 11 pounds in 2 weeks. I just saw my doctor yesterday, and obviously we both found that pretty alarming. I’ve been losing weight over the past two months, but the rate it’s happening at is definitely increasing.

And to tie it all together? My blood work results are bad. Climbing white blood cell count with no sign of an infection, and it doesn’t seem to correlate with my steroid dosage or endocrine system. We went through all my meds and the doctor is pretty damn sure none of them are causing this increase in white blood cells. Not only that, but my neutrophils are very high, as are my immature grans. (Both are different types of blood cells. I have been learning a lot about blood lately.)

So, um, yeah…

Cancer Scare #3. This feels a lot more real than the last two though. Scare #1 was because of high red blood cell count, but that evened out. They’re even at normal levels now! Scare #2 was the multiple tumors in my liver. Those turned out to be hepatic adenomas caused from long term birth control usage, so they were benign, and have since gone away now that I’ve stopped taking Depo Provera.

This is just… very different. Even if it’s not a type of blood or bone marrow cancer, there is something seriously wrong inside my body. It’s terrifying to me. I had a baseline I’d adjusted to with my body and knew what symptoms to expect from it. A chronically ill body is often very unpredictable, but it was still a body I knew and recognized and had grown used to.

I don’t know my body anymore. Not even a little bit. I just feel physically ill all the time, and the brain fog from it is so bad that it’s starting to scare me. My memory is just not there. There’s been a definite decline in my cognitive abilities.

Originally my appointment was May 13th, but I was the top priority on the cancellation list, so it got moved to April 29th. While it feels good to be taken seriously, it’s being taken so seriously that it’s frightening.

I hate this.

I’m not even getting into how this has affected my mental health.

Thank you if you read through all this. It turned out much longer than I expected it to. I’ve told most of my loved ones, but I just needed another place to share it.

TLDR: Buckle up for Archer’s Cancer Scare #3

#personal #vent #cancer #cancer scare #chronic illness #actually chronically ill #medical stuff

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azzibuckets · 1 year ago

Text

For the Love of the Game [Pazzi | Part 10/10]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: the end 🙏

a/n: decided to combine the last two chapters into one! don’t mind the abrupt ending

word count: 2.1k

masterlist w/ all parts

“You and Paige played together on the U16 and U17 USA Basketball teams, where you guys won a championship at the 2018 FIBA World Cup. Has there been a noticeable difference in your on-court chemistry from USA Baskerball to UConn after the development of your more personal relationship?”

Azzi stared at Leo blankly. “With Paige’s ACL, we haven’t gotten many opportunities to play together yet, so I wouldn’t know.”

Leo raised her eyebrows expectantly. When Azzi crossed her arms and looked away, refusing to speak anymore, she sighed in frustration and clicked her pen. “Okay…” she drawled out. Her eyes scanned her notes for the next question. “Paige was the first freshman to win the AP and Naismith Player of the Year. Although she’s still an underclassman, it would be fair to say she has a lot of valuable experience and natural leadership. What have you personally learned from Paige?”

“That she’s a fuck ass bitch,” Azzi whispered under her breath.

Leo leaned forward. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” Azzi smiled charmingly at the blinking red dot on the camera. “Paige definitely makes her presence known on the court.“ She paused, gathering her thoughts. Leo sent her an encouraging smile, her pen finally scribbling for the first time in the entire interview.

Azzi thought back to the way Paige had used to speak to her, both in their time playing together at USA Basketball and in the months leading up to their agreement. “It’s the fact that you can’t shoot a mid ranger without getting the ball turned over. These are basic foundations of basketball, Fudd. You’re playing college ball now. It’s time to grow up.” Paige had spat, months earlier. Azzi pursed her lips, her anger further fueled from the words they’d thrown at each other in the hospital bathroom the week before. “If she sees a weakness or a flaw in your play, she won’t hesitate to point it out. She likes having her way with things.” Leo’s smile slowly faded. “She has a whole system set up at UConn, and if you dare challenge it, she’ll make you regret it.” By the end of her rant, Azzi was rigid in her seat, the tips of her ears on fire as she riled herself up.

Leo’s pen slowly started moving. She aggressively slammed down her pen and paused the camera. “We can’t use that!”

Azzi looked innocently at her. “Why not?”

“No one is gonna watch this film and think you guys are dating with the way you’re speaking about her,” Leo scowled.

Azzi rolled her eyes. “I doubt Paige said anything positive about me either. Why can’t you just bin the interviews and work with the segments you already have?”

“No, she didn’t,” Leo answered roughly. “Paige gave great answers. You’re the one that’s hard to work with.”

Azzi’s leg stopped jittering. “What do you mean great answers?”

Leo clicked away on her laptop before swiveling it around to face the dark haired girl. “Watch,” she demanded, pressing play.

The video was dark and muted at first, until someone adjusted the camera and it showed Paige, sitting in one of those director’s cameras. A mic was attached to the collar of her jersey, and her hair was pinned up in her signature two braids and ponytail. Azzi’s heart ached. This was her first time seeing Paige since their incident in the bathroom, and she looked good. Better than good. She’d obviously recovered well from her surgery; her skin was glowing and the bags under her eyes were lighter than normal. Her deep blue eyes were sparkling, and she looked in a good mood.

Leo’s voice filtered in from off camera. “What do you like about Azzi?”

Paige smiled uneasily. “Basketball wise or uh,” she shifted in her seat, “girlfriend wise?”

“Both.”

“Well, in terms of basketball, I don’t really have to speak for her,” Paige laughed all nervous, and Azzi could feel her blood pumping faster through her veins. “I mean, everyone knows how good she is. She has a killer pull-up and unlimited range. Her jump shot is perfect, and she’s lethal with her catch and shoot threes.”

At that moment, Leo cut in. “Many people have been saying that with you out, UConn suffers a major drawback. Are you worried about the position of your team without your guidance on the court?”

Paige’s expression changed. “I hear that, and I understand that, but honestly, I’m not as worried as people think I am. Each player on the team is a valuable asset. If we’re talking about Azzi, she’s been putting in extra work to expand her offensive role ever since my injury. I’ve been watching her at practice, and let’s just say, I think that other teams should be even more scared of UConn this upcoming season.”

Azzi felt like someone had just dumped an entire bucket of ice water on her head. What was Paige saying? She’d expected Paige to be condescending, that of course the team was going to suffer badly without her, to laugh at the idea that Azzi would be able to compensate for her loss. But here Paige was, talking about Azzi like she’d hung the damn moon.

Leo’s voice on the video brought her back to attention. “Now, what about personally? You and Azzi have been recently named the ‘it couple’ of women’s baseball, even despite your…” Leo hesitated as she searched for the right word, “tumultuous history. We’d love to learn about what you appreciate about who fans have dubbed as the people’s princess.”

Paige smiled tightly. Azzi noticed her tapping her finger against the side of her leg, a nervous tic that not many people knew she had. “Azzi is a really good person.”

“Can you expand on that?”

Paige’s eyes focused on her lap. “She’s very selfless. Especially in the beginning, I struggled a lot mentally with my injury. Basketball means the world to me, and not being able to play it is devastating. But Azzi, you know, she’s torn her ACL before. She was there for me in the whole process, driving me to rehab sessions and making sure I always ate and doing stupid things with me to get my mind off my knee.” A faint smile flickered on the blonde’s lips as she thought to herself. “I probably wouldn’t have survived it without her.”

Azzi swallowed, trying to dissipate the knot forming in her throat. She’d been so furious at Paige just moments before - for minimizing her struggle to find her sexual identity, for trying to make their situation and her feelings so black and white when everything was a muddled grey for her. And now, Azzi was positively vibrating, like she was a little schoolgirl whose crush had just complimented her.

“You see?” Leo shut her laptop, giving Azzi a pointed look. “This is what we’re aiming for.”

Azzi rubbed her palms together, thinking. Paige had callen her confusing, but right now, Paige was the confusing one. She’d essentially told Azzi to go away and never speak to her again, and then pulled shit like this. How could Azzi stay away from her when Paige was putting her name on a banner and waving it for everyone to see?

———————

Paige studied the notepad of plays in front of her. When the circles and xs and lines started blurring together on the paper from her staring at it so hard, she exhaled, letting her eyes shut for a moment.

“Hey,” Geno said gently from besides her. “Stop stressing. The girls got it.”

Paige nodded, looking up to watch her team as they warmed up for the season opener. Every bone in her body itched to be out there, stretching and warming up her shots with her girls. But she couldn’t, and right now she had to trust her team. Besides, she had an important job out here too. She’d helped draw up half of these plays, going over the strategy and who to place where in order to maximize each player’s individual talents and get as many points as possible.

Her eyes fell on Azzi. She looked nervous for her first official debut of her college career, and Paige wanted to mentally send her a message - to tell her to keep her chin up, to play as hard as possible and show everyone why she was the #1 high school recruit of her class. But Paige knew that talking to Azzi now for the first time in a month would probably heighten the girl’s nerves even more, so she kept her mouth shut, forcing herself to look away.

At half time of the game, Azzi had already scored 10 points, but Paige could tell that she was off. The crowds in the stands were large and loud, even for a season opener, and she could tell it was getting to the younger girl’s head by the way she kept missing shots she normally would’ve aced.

Someone tapped Paige’s shoulder from behind her. She turned around and saw a few guys sitting together who looked like they attended UConn. “Hey,” one of them nodded. “You miss being part of the action?”

Paige liked talking to fans, but right now she wanted to focus on the game, so she only gave a quick nod in response before turning around.

Soon, another tap came. Trying not to roll her eyes, she turned around again. “Yes?”

“It looks like your team needs you,” one of the guys chuckled, his eyes fixed on the court. Paige followed his gaze to the girls playing, and right on cue, Azzi sailed another shot. Paige’s heart lurched as the younger girl bit her lip and sprinted back to defense, a hollow look in her eyes.

“You carry the team, bro. Number 35 just missed again. You might need to give her some pointers.” The guy grinned at her, as if what he’d said was a compliment. Then, as if he couldn’t get any more audacity, he whipped out a Sharpie and dropped it on her lap. “By the way, can you sign my jersey?”

Paige stared in disbelief at the Sharpie before she picked it up and threw it at his face. She felt a sadistic sense of satisfaction as the Sharpie hit the guy right in the eye and he howled, hands going to up to massage the area.

“I’m not signing any of your shit,” she growled. “Number 35 has a name, and Azzi Fudd would drop 20 on your sorry ass any day.” With that, she turned around, fury pulsing through her veins and enlivening her senses. She secretly applauded herself for having the self control not to punch the living daylights out of that guy right then and there.

Thankfully, Azzi seemed to get ahold of her nerves after Geno’s inspiring speech at half, going on to score 10 additional points while barely missing any more shots, an impressive performance for a freshman debut. The game ended with Aaliyah pulling through to hit the game-winning buzzer beater.

Deciding that was cause for celebration, the team decided to go to Tim’s for drinks together after. Paige went straight to the bar as soon as they arrived, ordering a Shirley Temple. When she turned around, she came face to face with the guys from the game earlier.

“Hey,” one of them smirked. “Go tell your lesbo girlfriend good job for me. She looked a little rusty tonight but if you give her my number I can help her with that.” Laughing, he threw a crumpled up piece of paper at Paige, hitting her in the chest, and that’s when everything went red.

Flinging her crutches to the side, Paige moved towards him with a ferocity she’d never felt, grabbing the collar of his shirt. “Listen here, motherfucker,” she hissed. “Clearly your mother didn’t teach you any manners so I guess it’s up to me.” She let go, and the guy stumbled back, fear in his eyes. Then she reared her first back and punched him.

The guy cried out in pain, blood gushing from his nose. Incensed, his friends turned on Paige. “Come on,” she becked her hands at them. “Give me all you’ve got.” The guy she’d hit with the Sharpie earlier lunged towards her, but before he could reach her, hands grabbed Paige’s hips and pulled her back.

“What the fuck are you doing?” A familiar voice growled into her ear, restraining Paige as her other teammates rushed to intervene.

“I was giving them what they deserved,” Paige said bitterly, turning away from the scene. She shook out her hand, her knuckles aching.

“In case you haven’t noticed, there’s three of them and one of you.” Azzi forcefully moved Paige’s hips so that they were facing each other now. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

“Azzi! Take Paige away before she does any more damage,” Nika demanded as one of the guys she was pushing away started spitting curses at Paige.

Azzi grabbed Paige’s crutches, marching her off to the bathroom. She slammed the door behind them, anger evident in the slanting of her eyebrows and flattening of her mouth. “Are you serious, Paige? Getting into fights at the bar? You could get a suspension for this!”

“It doesn’t matter.” Paige fixed her eyes on the peeling paint on the wall. “I can’t even play anyways.”

“You said you don’t need my help.” Azzi paced back and forth angrily. “But here you are, throwing yourself at the hands of three grown men.”

“I didn’t need your help. I had the situation under control,” Paige said coldly.

Azzi grabbed Paige’s shoulders, shaking them. “You’re in crutches, Paige. You can barely even move. I get that you’re frustrated with your injury but you can’t just ignore it!” Azzi slumped against the sink, her head in her hands. “Why’d you even start attacking them anyways? Nothing is worth putting yourself in danger like that.”

You’re worth it, Paige thought. But she stayed quiet, hoping Azzi’s anger would blow over.

“Are you serious? You’re not even gonna tell me what started this whole thing?” Azzi threw up her hands in exasperation. “Is this what you’re like now? Being all moody and mysterious and hitting people whenever you feel like it? I don’t even know you anymore.”

Paige clenched and unclenched her fist. The soreness was starting to get her. Azzi must’ve noticed, because she took her hand and examined it.

“It’s gonna bruise,” Azzi said, her voice now soft.

Paige shrugged.

Sighing, Azzi gently led Paige’s hand under the faucet. She gently washed away the blood on her knuckles. Paige flinched - not at the pain, but from the all too familiar feeling of Azzi’s fingers touching her.

Azzi managed to find some bandages after rummaging through the cabinets. She slowly wrapped the gauze around Paige’s knuckles, her touch sending electric sparks through Paige’s hand. Neither of them spoke as Azzi patched her up, the tension in the air thick.

Paige swallowed, the silence becoming overbearing. “They were saying things about you.”

Azzi’s eyes shot up, her hand stilling. “What?”

Paige ducked her head, avoiding her stare. “The guys. They were at the game and making stupid comments the entire time, and I mostly ignored them.” She huffed. “But then they came here, and when they said something else, I just lost it.”

Azzi’s jaw clenched. She finished wounding the bandage, but she didn’t let go of Paige’s hand, and Paige didn’t move either. “I don’t need you defending my honor,” Azzi said quietly. Her thumb brushed once against Paige’s knuckles. “People like those guys are always gonna talk. It’s better to just ignore them and not give them what they want.”

Paige grunted, clearly not heeding Azzi’s words.

Azzi’s lips parted. “I miss you.”

Paige grinded her teeth.

“And I know you miss me too.” Azzi put her finger under Paige’s chin, forcing her to make eye contact. “I watched your interview with Leo.”

Paige cursed. “I told her not to show you that.”

“I would’ve seen it eventually, once she published her film.” Azzi studied the blonde’s face, memorizing the features she’d missed so much. Her long eyelashes, the way they fluttered. The wrinkle in the corner of her eyebrow. The turn of her pretty pink lips.

“I know you’re angry that I couldn’t tell you what I wanted. I was still figuring myself out. And these past few weeks, I’ve been working at it. Trying to come to terms with my sexuality.” Azzi took a deep breath, stepping closer. Paige’s hands instinctively went down, brushing the younger girl’s waist as the distance between them grew closer.

“I think I’m bi,” Azzi breathed out. “And if you can’t respect that, then I don’t think we can be together. But I don’t think my sexuality was the issue. I think that you were hurting, and you were impatient, and you wanted an immediate answer, and when I couldn’t give that to you, you ran away.”

Paige’s eyebrows furrowed.

“We’re killing each other, P,” Azzi whispered. “It’s torture not being able to see you and kiss you every day. And you’re obviously not coping with it any better than I am.” She brought her hands to cup Paige’s face, pressing their foreheads together. Paige relaxed, leaning into her touch.

“I need you, Paige,” Azzi begged. “I need us.”

Paige’s heart erupted, and she closed the gap between them, bringing her lips to Azzi’s and pulling her in for a bruising kiss. Azzi gasped, but recovered quickly, tangling her hands into Paige’s hair.

“‘M sorry,” Paige breathed as soon as they broke apart. “I was so awful. I should’ve never made you feel stupid for trying to figure out your sexuality.” She bit her lip, anguish in her eyes. “It’s just always been so easy for me. I’ve always known I liked girls. I was being hot-headed and I didn’t consider how you were feeling.”

Azzi laughed. “Yeah, that was pretty shitty of you. But I did some selfish shit too.” She nudged her nose with Paige’s. “And I think it’d be fair to call us even.”

Paige trailed her hands up Azzi’s sides. “What I told you at my surgery was complete bullshit. You’re always on my mind, driving me fuckin’ insane. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know. Getting into fights and everything. A little part of me is flattered,” Azzi joked. Paige groaned in embarrassment, hiding her face in the crease of Azzi’s neck. Azzi brought her hands up to rub her back in calming circles. “Everything’s over. We went on the Europe trip, where you ignored me the whole time,” she laughed at that. “And Leo’s done with her film. She’s set to submit it tomorrow.”

Paige nodded, drawing back to look Azzi in the eye. “No more of this fake dating shit. I want you to be my girl for real.” She tenderly caressed Azzi’s cheek, not believing how someone as beautiful and kind as Azzi could want someone like her. “I meant everything I said in the interview, ya know? About how talented you are at basketball and how selfless you are in real life.”

“I know,” Azzi whispered, “I know.”

“I’m gonna take you on a date,” Paige rambled. “A good fucking date. The best date you’ve ever had. Gonna make you forget about all the other girls you’ve ever been with.”

“That sounds great, baby,” Azzi giggled softly, her hand playing with the wisps of hair at the base of Pige’s neck.

“Gonna make you fall in love with me,” Paige mumbled, her head dropping on Azzi’s shoulder. Azzi smiled. You already have, she thought silently.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi #uconnwbb #wcbb #wbb #enemies to lovers

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