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pboogerswbb · 2 months ago

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SO IT GOES - chapter 13

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: sexual language & content (smut), hoops written by lila, kiran being clueless, language Wordcount: 11.5K (told y'all this was long) A/C: ty SOME OF YOU for being patient (the ones begging for a chapter 24/7... go touch grass), this chapter is SO LONG but it's what y'all wanted so buckle up!! ily guys i know most of you are respectful, once again i love reading y'all's thoughts so send them to my inbox :)) have fun reading this and sorry for the basketball content and if it doesn't make sense, in my head it did ok (also ty @thaatdigitaldiary for making sure the hoops made sense <33 ily)

Before London

The early morning rays of sun penetrate through the slight gap between my curtains, hitting my eyes in a way that makes me stir. My eyelids feel heavy, as my nose nuzzles the soft silk of the pillowcase underneath my head. I’m still half asleep when I hear faint snoring and steady breathing behind my back. Letting it guide me to consciousness, I focus on the gentle rumbling, the weight of a warm arm wrapped tightly around my waist. My hand is gripping on this very arm, holding it tight and flush against my exposed midriff. As I wake from my slumber, finally fluttering my eyes open I feel the heat of someone’s presence tingling against my back, pressing into my shoulders, the curve of my butt. My heart flutters.

Entangling our legs carefully, I turn around to find Paige, lips parted and face smashed against the pillow, rounding her cheek. The soft snores joint with the AC humming offer a steady lull, making part of me want to close my eyes and doze off again. But I can’t bear to look away. Paige’s long, dark eyelashes are pressed against her tan face, blonde strands falling over her eyes in her sleep. I reach over carefully brushing them back to see more of her, careful not to disturb her. I had never slept in her arms before. Sure, we had slept next to each other on some occasions, but I always made sure to turn around and take my space.

I didn’t do it to be mean or cruel. Matter of fact it felt more cruel towards myself, because every fibre of my existence ached to curl up next to her and lie on her chest. I had never wanted to be close to someone so bad it hurt. Until now.

But I was terrified of getting used to her, her proximity, the warmth of her body in my bed. I couldn’t bear another heartache. I was still utterly fucked up from the last one, I knew it started with letting myself get used to sleeping in her arms which would lead to daily ‘good morning’ texts which would lead to me falling deeper, head over heels for her. I feared getting used to her presence, her affection. Because it would mean I’d start needing it.

But something in me last night didn’t care. Perhaps it was the way she had helped me all night, cleared up plates, made small talk with the guests effortlessly, anticipated all my needs, grew closer with my brother, I’m not sure what. But something had me backing myself into her as I lied on my side, somewhere between sleep and consciousness. She didn’t force anything, didn’t move an inch. But the moment she felt me scooching over her arm was ready to wrap around me. And I grabbed hold of it tightly, clinging to her all night.

I admire her beauty, her sharp nose and soft pink lips, faint lines on her forehead, the star-shaped pimple patch on her cheek. I don’t even realise that I’m smiling, or that the blonde is awake before she smiles too, blinking her tired eyes open.

“You’re staring,” she says hoarsely, voice raspy and rough from sleep.

“No I’m not,” I feebly defend myself, my fingertip tracing along the blonde’s jawline and neck, down to her arm. Paige hums contentedly, wrapping that very arm around my waist and pulling me flush to her warm body. I let her, scratching up and down her shoulder and bicep in a soothing manner.

Her blue eyes watch my sleepy face, our noses nearly brushing as our gazes meet. Her glare has always been intense, but it seems more so at this moment.

“Good mornin’ mama,” she murmurs sleepily. I blush at the nickname, shutting my eyes from the intensity of her stare that’s sending goosebumps up and down my body.

“Good morning love.”

A comforting silence falls upon us, as we slowly allow our minds to wake up.

“I think Rike and Lala know,” Paige says softly, her eyes shut now too as my nails drag up and down her bare back.

“I know,” I chuckle in a gentle way. “Lou too.”

“They not gon’ tell nobody, y’know.”

“I know,” I hum, knowing it was the truth. I suspected Lala had known for longer than me and Paige even have. I stir a little on my side, a familiar tension in my shoulder.

“You okay?” The blonde asks, pulling back the slightest bit. “‘M sorry, I get really warm when I sleep.”

I chuckle, shaking my head, “no, it’s my shoulder.”

“You need to see a massage therapist.”

I grimace, shaking my head, trying to find a comfortable position. “I don’t like strangers touching me.”

“C’mon, c’mere,” Paige coos, maneuvering me with ease so I’m lying on my stomach, most of my weight on her as my leg wraps around her waist. Her hand rubs up and down my back comfortingly, soothing the ache. “Better?”

“Better,” I repeat, chills spreading everywhere. In my tired and blissful haze, I wrap my hand around her chest and kiss her shoulder tenderly as a thank you.

“You need better curtains, it’s so bright,” the blonde groans, throwing a dramatic arm over her face.

“No it’s not,” I giggle. “There’s barely any light coming in. Besides, it’s morning.”

“Too much light, goin’ blind.”

I reach my hands up over the girl’s face, covering her eyes with my palms. “There. Dark. You happy now?”

“Stoppp,” she whines, grabbing my wrists harshly and pulling them away from her. We both laugh sleepily, Paige pressing a gentle kiss on top of my head, smoothing over my wild locks.

“You ready for this game against the Storms tomorrow?” I ask gently, knowing games had become a sensitive subject for the blonde. She shifts, inhaling heavily before answering.

“I’m hyped I guess, wish Nika was comin’,” she says and hesitates. “Can’t wait to play against her next season, God willing.”

I smile, glad to see she’s thinking positively. Paige kept her feelings inside, but I knew the off start to the season was bothering her much more than she was willing to admit. Quickly, talks of Rookie of The Season had shifted from the blonde to Olivia Miles, and the media discourse hadn’t been helping Paige’s confidence.

“Is this the end of the great Paige Buckets? Her rookie season has been disappointing to say the least. She seems to be distracted and in her head, missing threes and middies she used to hit with ease. Many people speculate that Geno Auriemma’s coaching is to bl-” blared from my phone just yesterday as I opened TikTok. It made me want to throw the device onto the ground, but the most I could do was to report the video. If I got content like that on my page, I couldn’t even imagine what the blonde saw on her’s.

“Uh- So what’s the plan for breakfast?” Paige asks, eager to change the subject. I catch onto the hint and let her - knowing that pushing it right now wouldn’t be smart.

“The schedule says blueberry pancakes,” I murmur. The blonde smiles, blue eyes flickering to my face on her chest.

“You memorise it?”

“Course I do,” I scoff. Something about this sets the girl off, pearls of gentle chuckles filling the room as she wraps her arms around me and squeezes tight. I giggle too, feeling her lift me on top of her. As she does the door handle makes a sound and before I know it, a shirtless Kiran is stepping into the bedroom.

“Morni- Oh, whoa.”

I’m lying flat on top of Paige, whose arms are wrapped tightly around my waist under the covers. The blonde quickly pulls the blanket upwards, covering both of us up to our shoulders. It was already an incriminating scene, but even worse would be if he realised the lack of clothes on us from last night’s activities.

Kiran’s eyes are wide, brows raised as he looks over at us. I rummage my mind for an excuse, any sorry reason I’m on top of the blonde in bed. He blinks for a while, as if resetting his brain. But he doesn’t say a word.

“I- Paige was cold,” I murmur in a panic. The blonde nods, pulling the blanket tighter around us.

“I really was, been freezin’ my ass off all night.” Her voice is so genuine and confident even I nearly believe it.

Kiran keeps looking at us, cheeks reddening slightly at the sight. “I was just wondering how, uh, how to use the coffee machine.”

“I’ll come help,” I mumble, about to climb out when Paige pulls me flush against her. It’s then I remember I’m nearly completely naked.

“No!” She yelps, rolling me over to my back, throwing the covers over my body. “I’mma go, you rest mama, had a long night last night,” she smiles, patting my hip carefully. Thankfully the sports bra and basketball shorts on her had stayed on last night. She grabs a hoodie off the ground, throwing it on casually.

Kiran, still red in the face, is processing (now on top of everything, the nickname too). The blonde grabs him by the shoulder to turn him around, walking him out of the room. Flipping over, I groan into the pillow, embarrassed. My ears burn and my heart is pounding, trying to find a way to make sense of this to Kiran without exposing the truth to him.

Throwing on Paige’s shirt from last night, I button it up lazily. But as my hand wraps around the door handle, I realise this probably was the worst possible choice of clothing to walk out in after… that. Cursing internally at my brother who never knew how to knock, I undress and dress again in a pair of leggings and a sports bra, both dark brown and matching.

I exhale deeply before stepping out, prepared to stay composed no matter how flustered I felt. However, I’m surprised to find Paige and Kiran laughing together in the kitchen, making blueberry pancakes and talking about video games - something I never understood.

“Well good morning,” Kiran smiles, mixing the batter. Paige, tired but gleaming with quiet joy, gets up from leaning against the wrap-around island, handing me a large cup of coffee.

“Mm mornin’,” she says with a lopsided smile, fingers rubbing my forearm behind my brother’s back.

“Good morning,” I say, still a little flustered, turning towards him. “Uh, Kiran, so that was probably quite strange to walk into, I just-”

“Oh no, don’t worry. I know how girls are,” he chuckles, and seems to genuinely mean it. I glance at Paige who nods, covering the lower part of her face, hiding the smile that’s forming.

“Sure,” I mumble confused.

“You know, girl stuff,” Kiran adds as the blonde grabs a pan from the bottom drawer, placing it on the stove with a sly smile.

“Right, girl stuff,” I chuckle, shaking my head in disbelief behind my brother’s back. At this point I was beginning to question his intelligence. I was also concerned about what he thinks girls do behind closed doors. Standing beside Paige, sipping my coffee, I feel her hand run down my lower back to my ass, copping a feel just for a second while Kiran’s back is facing us. Giggling silently, I push her hand away, the sneaky touch leaving my skin tingling.

Unsurprisingly, keeping my hands off Izara felt impossible. I knew it would be a challenge, it always was. But at least usually I knew the moment we got home we’d get the chance to do what we’d been craving all day. I had completely taken it for granted. Because now with Kiran constantly around, my hands were subconsciously itching to touch his sister’s arm here, or waist there. To wrap my arm around her and kiss the side of her head. Keeping my hands busy had felt like torture. So I was grateful for the controller in my hands, just to have something to keep them to myself.

“Wh- How are you this good? I’m fucked,” Kiran groans, Fortnite blasting on the TV. He’s leaning back on the leather armchair, rubbing his jaw annoyed. Poor guy wasn’t doing too good. Izzie’s curled up on the corner of my couch with a book in her hand - a sight I’d gotten selfishly used to, trying to remember not to take it for granted like I had the touches and kisses.

“We played a lot with my girls back in Uconn,” I grin, leaning forward in concentration and resting my elbows on my knees, manspreading enough so my skin tingles against the girl beside me. “Back in the good ole days.”

Kiran laughs. “You don’t like it in Dallas?”

I contemplate, long fingers sliding over the controller. I guess that’s how I felt at first, and then again when me and Iz weren’t talking. But whenever she was in my life, the whole city seemed brighter, more vibrant. Especially now. As my eyes glance around the living room for the first time I realise this is my home. I could tell by the framed UConn jersey on my wall, surrounded by posters of my favourite players, the Lego Air Jordan decorating the TV stand, my Bible sitting on the coffee table next to the GQ, the decorative pillows Izzie helped me choose - oh and the girl next to me. Without even noticing, somewhere down the line, Dallas had become my home.

“Was thinkin’ I never would,” I tell Kiran, chewing on my lower lip to concentrate on the game. “But it’s lookin up.” I glance at Izara next to me, absentmindedly scrunching her face as she reads over the page. She always looked so beautiful like that, when she was really using her beautiful mind and having to focus.

The beautiful sight is interrupted, however, by the ringing of Izara’s phone. The girl lifts her head up, reaching for it and sighs.

“It’s Trey, must be work,” she murmurs, leaving the room in a hurry to lock herself into my bedroom. I roll my eyes in annoyance, feeling jealousy simmering somewhere in my stomach. I miss a shot but barely notice, eyeing the bedroom door. To my surprise, Kiran scoffs.

“Slimy guy,” he says.

“Tell me about it,” I reply, grip so tight on the white controller my knuckles turn pale.

“You get bad energy from him too?”

I lean back on the couch, fully aware my t-shirt was hiking up, showing some of my boxers underneath the basketball shorts I had on. “Never liked him,” I chuckle bitterly, feeling some sort of enjoyment as if Kiran was justifying my hatred. It felt satisfying knowing someone was on my side, finally.

“He just wants to shag Izzie so bad, it’s so obvious,” Kiran shakes his head, finally giving up and letting the controller fall off his hand to his lap. “The entire dinner party he was trying to suck up to me, I swear.”

“I saw,” I huff. “He loves to kiss ass, especially Izzie’s.”

“Izzie won’t believe that he likes her.”

I kiss my teeth, finally exiting the game, too engaged in the conversation. I always would be if it meant I got to talk shit about Trey. “Bro I know, I tried tellin’ her.”

Kiran shakes his head, looking at me from the leather chair. “She just has bad judgement with men. Like with her ex too.”

“Jasper?” I ask, reaching my hands up to fix the low messy bun my hair is in.

“Yup,” he nods. “What an asshole that one, a complete nonce. I saw it the minute I met him. Tried to warn her, but you know how she is.”

Yes I did. “Stubborn as hell,” I grin. Kiran looks at me knowingly.

“I just wish I was here to look after her.”

“I’ve been lookin after her,” I say without hesitation. The younger boy looks at me, eyes softening.

“She’s changed a lot,” he mumbles. “In a good way. She seems more… at peace, joyful even.” He laughs. “Wow, never thought I’d be calling my big sister joyful.”

I smile and maybe it was narcissistic of me to think so but I hoped that at least some of that was my doing. I could tell the difference from when she first arrived and now - like night and day. I adored her both ways.

“She was always serious, even as a child,” Kiran starts, smiling to himself. “One time she forgot to do her homework, she must have been like seven, and she beat herself up so bad over it and put these pink sticky notes everywhere around the house, reminding her to do her homework. Mind you, she had never forgotten to do it before. That lasted for many many months.”

I laugh, my heart fluttering at the idea of little Izara and her dramatic little gestures, sticking notes on doors and walls and mirrors.

“Our mum hated those notes, would try to tell her that one was enough but everytime she took them down they were up the next day.”

“That sounds like Iz,” I laugh. “She still lowkey that dramatic.” My face falls, glancing towards the bedroom. The door is still closed. Phew.

Kiran nods, chuckling. “Better not let her hear that,” he grins. “She’s strict. Just like mum.”

“Oh, I know,” I laugh. The times I’d gotten in trouble with that girl. I loved it though, she kept me grounded. She was exactly the type of person I could see myself with for a long, long time.

“When we were kids she was so strict about rules too. One time our granny tried to give us sweets before lunch and she told mum. She kept saying “granny broke the rules”. It was hilarious,” he smiles. “Well, not in the moment because I’d eaten the sweets and she told on me too.”

“Oh trust, it’s strict over here too. One time I got her to get ice cream with me before dinner but it took like, an hour of convincing,” I grin, playing with the ring on my thumb.

“That’s Izzie alright,” Kiran smiles. “The only person I ever saw her bend the rules for was this boy she had a crush on as a kid. Was the funniest thing, she would just walk around yanking his sleeves and if that wasn’t enough to get him to notice her, she’d just pull on the hood of his coat.”

I think for a while, warmth spreading all over my body as I listen to Kiran’s stories. “Well she don’t bend no rules for me.”

The boy looks at me for a while before shrugging and grabbing the controller up from his lap. “Another round then?”

“Look at my girl!” Lala grins, taking hurried steps in her strappy heels when she sees me.

“Hey Lala,” I chuckle, wrapping my arms around her to greet the girl. Even with my heels on she was still much taller than me. Our voices echo around the players’ corridors, loud chatter of the girls, especially Arike’s, coming through the closed door behind us where the team was getting ready, hyping each other up.

“You’ll go sit with Kiran right?” I ask, worried I had to abandon my brother who was sitting amongst the crowd all alone - he wasn’t allowed back here.

“Of course, I’ll take care of your baby brother, don’t you worry girl,” the older woman smiles, smoothing over the cropped baby t-shirt and denim skirt I’m wearing. “This is so cute, I’m not used to seeing you so dressed down.”

I chuckle awkwardly, fixing my straightened hair. “You don’t like it?”

“No I love it, pretty girl,” she smiles comfortingly, raising her brow just a little. “I can see some… Paige's influence.”

“Oh, yeah she helped me pick,” I smile bashfully, knowing Lala knew exactly what me and Paige had been up to. There was no reason to say it out loud though.

“She good to you?” She asks, voice lowering just for me to hear. “Because if she’s not you know who to call.”

“She’s perfectly good,” I giggle, my cheeks heating up.

“Who is?”

I know who it is before I turn, that voice at this point burnt into my brain, engraved into me like a tattoo.

“Mind your business,” Lala laughs, wrapping an arm around Arike who emerges from behind Paige. I laugh, feeling the blondes hands hold my waist as she spins me around, to see all of my fit. My body tenses, breath hitches as a natural reaction to her touch. It was impossible to keep my feelings beneath the surface.

“I knew this fit was gon’ be fire. You look fine mama,” she grins, eyeing me up and down. My knees nearly give in.

“Thank you,” I giggle, all desire to hide what’s going on between us disappearing in front of the engaged couple. Who cares, they already knew. I turn to Paige with watchful eyes, her face softening the moment we make eye contact. I loved the way she looked in her jersey, how broad her shoulders seemed, how well the black contrasted her pale skin. I could never get sick of looking at her, though I’d never tell her this.

Not just anyone could’ve told Paige was nervous - but I saw it written all over her. The picking of her cuticles, the smiles she offered others that fell off her face much too quickly, the way she was shifting her weight back and forth, looking around for any distraction from her growing nerves. I had become an expert at reading her.

“Did you watch the new Love Island episode?” I ask the taller girl, elbowing her gently, offering a distraction. Her skin is sticky from the warm-ups earlier.

Paige looks around for a while before even realising she’s being spoken to. “Uhh, nah, didn’t have time,” she murmurs, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“Five minutes ladies,” one of the assistant coaches yells. The girl beside me exhales heavily, and it was enough for me to know what she was thinking about. The late night discussions we’d had about Olivia Miles, the guilt Paige felt over the jealousy eating away at her. All current projections were showing Miles to be the Rookie of The Year and now she had to play against her, like some personal battle they were fighting. More than just Wings vs Storm. I tried to remind the blonde it was still early, and even Clark had her issues in the beginning. It was bound to happen. I’m not sure if this helped or made it worse for Paige.

“Heyyy, my favourite team!” Trey beams, approaching all of us gathered in the corridors, making our way towards the court. Immediately Paige’s jaw flexes, and I can tell the man’s presence was not appreciated at this moment.

“Shh,” I tell Trey sternly. “Let them get focused,” I shoo him away, hoping this will help the blonde’s nerves. No pep talks, or reassurance, or encouragement had worked before. I had been nothing but sweet and caring and gentle, but it seemed to have no effect on her game. So I decide to change tactics - she was coached by Geno after all. Gentle words might not be what she needs.

As we stand in the dark tunnel with the team, I face Paige, watching the nervous tapping of her hand on her thigh.

“Stop, look at me.”

Without hesitation, her blue eyes flicker to mine, my hand holding her wrist still.

“You’re more than these people say about you, who gives a shit about Olivia Miles? You bust your ass every single day, and for what? Just to give up the crown that easily? I don’t think so, you’ve gone through way worse,” I tell her sternly, my voice quiet but authoritative in the low chatter filling the tunnel. “You’re not here to entertain, you’re not here to let the media use you as a joke, fuck that. Stop playing scared. Stop playing small. If you screw up at least screw up big, keep looking for your shot even if you can’t get a single one in. You’ve got something to prove Paige. Not to me, not to the fans or the haters but to yourself. Remind yourself who you are.”

She stares at me, face blank as she internalises my words.

“Okay girls, let’s go.”

The team begins to head towards the court, but Paige stands still for a second before glancing up, her teammates far gone.

“Wait,” I murmur, my hands reaching for the hem of her jersey and tucking the fabric into her shorts, all around her waist from the back to the front. “Okay, you can go.”

The crowd roars for yet another layup for Gabby, but I barely hear them. It’s as if the crowd is closing in, my ears ringing due to their screaming. I missed both my jumpers, already getting me back into the mindset I had been in the entire season. I’m not good enough, I peaked in college, I wasn’t the player I used to be. On top of everything she is like a pest, constantly on me.

Sweat drips down my back, the jersey that still felt like a stranger’s clinging to me. Olivia is bringing the ball up the court, eyeing for options. We’re face to face, my hands active to find any moment for a stop. She had been on fire all night, the first half of the game gone much like the media expected. Olivia was hot with 16 points, me? A hard earned six, though the five assists were making me feel a little better. Still not confident in the way I used to be.

Miles glances to the side, looking for help from beyond the arc. Everyone’s locked down. Suddenly our eyes meet. I see it. I feel it. She explodes. Her shoulder brushes against mine as she speeds towards the freethrow line. I follow with fast feet and fast hands, matching her steps, staying locked in. No way she was getting this one.

But I’m not fast enough. She hits me with a quick and nasty hesitation move, then snatching back. I stumble, nearly crashing to the ground. By the time I recover, the ball has already left her fingertips. An “ooh” from the ground and a swish. Easy two.

“That’s rookie of the year for you,” she yells at me as her teammates surround her.

She waves at the crowd to get louder, glowing with an ease I couldn’t have felt more jealous over. An ease I used to have. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Not to me. My jaw flexes and I grind my teeth together, trying to keep my composure the UConn way. She jogs past me, shooting me a smile that says “you got nothin’ on me”. The pounding in my head grows with the noise of the crowd. It’s as if they’re all mocking me, reminding me of who I used to be.

“C’mon P,” Arike screams, patting my butt as she jogs by. I glance to the sidelines, my eyes finding the dark haired girl standing by the team, clasping her hands and furrowing her brows. On top of everything now I was disappointing her too.

“Fuck!” I scream, hitting the cubby as we walk into the dressing room. My anger had been growing exponentially the last few minutes of the first half, but the almost lazy deep three by Miles right in my face had been the cherry on top. It kept playing over and over in my head, the late hand, the way the crowd got on their feet and roared. My face is burning as I throw the towel over my head and groan.

“I need a minute,” I hiss, pushing out of the room as my team rolls in, past Satou and Lou into the tunnel. I rub the bridge of my nose vigorously, leaning my sweaty back against the cool tile of the walls. The whole room was spinning, all my frustration accumulated along the season peaking - all of it directed at Miles. I couldn’t handle having to face the fact it was my own doing. Blaming someone else was so much easier.

“Paige,” Iz sighs, the tapping of her heels echoing around the tunnel. I remain quiet, focusing on the ringing and pounding in my head.

“Paige,” she repeats, more sternly. I open my eyes to find her standing in front of me, looking serious as ever.

“God dammit,” I complain, sliding against the wall onto the floor, my legs bent at the knees as I lean my elbows against them.

“Get up, c’mon,” Izzie mumbles, pulling onto my forearm but with not much success. So instead she sits on the cold floor in front of me, her hands rubbing on my bare calves, not caring that they were dripping with sweat.

“What do I have to say to get you out of your head?” She asks, green eyes roaming my face. I could feel anger, frustration bubbling right underneath.

“I dunno,” I mumble. I felt imprisoned in my mind, stuck in a cage without a way out, locked in without a key.

“Think!” She scoffs, pushing on my arm. My chest heaves as I take deep breaths, rummaging my mind for anything. “What did you do at UConn when you got in your head?”

I chuckle bitterly. “I didn’t have time to, Geno was too quick to get on my ass.”

Izzie looks at me, raising her brows. “Okay, and what would Geno say now?”

He would cuss me out, first of all. Telling me he’s never seen a person play this shit in his life. That I’m the worst person he’s ever coached, that I think I know better even though I don’t know anything. That I might as well stop playing and be benched for the rest of the season because it seems I don’t want it bad enough. That Miles wants it more than I do and that’s why she’s winning. That I’ve gotten lazy, weak. Acting like I don’t even care.

I feel a fire in the pit of my stomach, just a wavering flame now. But it’s reminiscent of something I felt what seemed like a long time ago. In March. The sense of urgency. It’s right there, it’s been there the entire time. I thought it was gone for good.

“Bueckers, inside,” Chris says as he enters the tunnel, pointing at the door. I don’t have the time or sense to say a word to Izzie as I help her off the ground. But before I turn she squeezes my arm encouragingly.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, time to wake up P. This isn’t her court, it’s yours.”

The gentle flame was growing, stirring within me now. Beginning of the third quarter had the crowd buzzing with newfound energy, I could feel it echoing around the court, bouncing off the walls, onto me. Time to stop feeling sorry for yourself. Remember who you are. This is my court. My team. I want this more than she does.

I’m face to face with Miles again as I bring the ball up the court, seeing Satou and Arike prepared for any play that I would run. I dribble the ball between my legs thinking for the smartest move, the game like a chess match in my head, when I realise I’ve got a checkmate right here.

I fake trying to push past Miles, who takes steps back accordingly. Before she has time to catch up to what I’m doing, I step back beyond the arc and get settled, letting the ball fly. I had done this a thousand times before. Please God, give it back to me.

Swish.

“Bueckers with a stepback three, and… It’s good!”

The crowd rises to its feet, cheering for my first made three in the last six games. I don’t celebrate, the UConn discipline still running blue in my veins. But Arike grins, tapping my butt when she runs past. I feel a wave of relief, looking up in a silent prayer of gratitude.

The jealousy and anger I felt towards Miles quickly turned to a newfound fire, making use of my aggression in defence. I’m quick, keeping up with her like a pest. She’s nearly completely locked down, having no other choice but to pass the ball over and over again.

“Another steal for Bueckers, her third of the quarter. She is hot right now. Haven't seen her like this all season.”

I finish with an easy layup, Storm’s defense was not fast enough to catch up. Satou laughs, squeezing my shoulders.

“That’s our rookie!” She exclaims, and I finally allow myself a smile. I can tell Olivia’s getting frustrated as a timeout is called, walking to the bench looking down, rubbing her sweaty face. I’m back, baby.

“Bueckers scored 12 in that quarter alone, it’s looking up for her. If she keeps this up this might be her first 20 point game of the season. Something we’re used to seeing from Bueckers in college but have been waiting patiently for in the league.”

The fourth has her getting desperate, frustrated. I can see it in her eyes, even the way she’s moving with the ball. Hectic, messy. I hope Geno’s watching the game. He’d give me a tap on the shoulder now. I got Olivia Miles stressing.

Her desperate shot at a three is disrupted by my quick hand, hitting the board. Before I can even think about boxing anyone out, Arike is catching the rebound, eyes on me. It’s all I need to know what to do.

I run up the court, Miles right behind me. But I’m faster, catching the long pass from Arike. As I jump into the air for the fast layup, Miles’ body crashes into mine, both of us tumbling to the ground. My eyes remain on the ball, the adrenaline in my body making the collision that would surely bruise my shoulder feel like a playful poke. As the ball falls through the net for the finish, I hear a whistle. And one.

The crowd cheers, the team in the Wings jerseys running to me to help me up. I laugh on the ground as Miles curses, her teammates holding her back to cool her down. As I rise, Arike chest bumps me, screaming something I barely hear into my ear, too focused on watching Miles shake her team off, stomping to the refs to complain about the whistle.

“Fuck is you talkin’ bout!” I yell at Miles, to rile her up even further. Our eyes meet, her nostrils flared with frustration. My chest heaves and my body burns with confidence and a fire as I make my way to the freethrow line. I had finally arrived in Dallas.

“Shot Clock off, ball with the Wings.”

I glance at the score, 78-80. I just need a two pointer, maybe a middie would be the best bet. I thread the ball between my legs, Miles right where she had been the entire game. In my face. She’s focused now, using her anger as fuel. I know there’s a better option than me to take this shot. Yeah I’d been hot, but I wasn’t reliable this season. I pass the ball to Arike, setting a screen for a three. But she won’t take it, passing the ball into the paint to Satou. Gabby got her way too locked down. I move to the weakside corner beyond the arc, as Satou draws in defence by working the paint, instead passing the ball to now open Arike. Defence follows, just a tiny bit too slow. But she won’t shoot it.

Arike glances at me, gets settled to draw in more of the defence leaving me completely open. Instead she passes the ball to me, her eyes locked onto my face. Expression full of confidence, telling me she believes in me. She could have shot the game-winning three, but she knew it was me who needed this win. Not her. Not the rest of the team. Me.

I let the ball fly, blue eyes following as it glides in the air. Olivia jumps, but just a little too late, stumbling as she hits the ground. It feels as if the arena is silent, the only sound is the pounding in my head as the ball comes down. Swish.

I’m not even sure what’s happening when my teammates crash into me, shoving and pushing on me hard enough to leave bruises. But I don’t care, a smile so wide on my face my cheeks begin to hurt. The crowd is on its feet, jumping up and down as I begin to jog around the court, like some sort of victory lap. In a way it sort of was.

My eyes find our bench, Chris smiling widely at me. But my gaze eventually lands on Izzie who’s jumping up and down, telling Trey to keep the camera on me. Her face is sparkling with pride and glee, the aggression and fire still in flames inside me.

“Paige!” A reporter stops me, as I try to catch my breath, smiling with joy. “Paige, 27 points, 10 assists. Your first 20 point game of the season. First double-double of the season. Great game from you overall, how do you feel right now?”

I grin at the camera, squeezing my eyes shut from how wide my lips are spreading. “‘Bout time,” I laugh, wiping the sweat off my neck.

“Paige, where are we going?” I whisper as the blonde drags me by my wrist into the very familiar storage room. She wasn’t talking. Matter of fact she hadn’t said a word, gripping my arm tightly the second we entered the tunnel and pulling me away from everyone. Her fingertips were pressing tightly enough to leave a bruise, as she closes the door behind us, turning on the fluorescent light.

“Paige, you were unbelievable, I know you co-” but I’m interrupted by a starved, harsh kiss. Teeth colliding as she grabs my dark hair tenaciously, pulling on it to maneuver my movements. Her other hand finds the hem of my baby tee with ease, pulling it up to reveal the see through lace bra underneath. Suddenly my body turns to putty, knees trembling at the force which with the blonde is kissing me. Taking control in a way I wasn’t accustomed to. Just like she had of her game on the court.

“P-paige,” I gasp as her lips kiss sloppily around my jaw, getting saliva all over my face and neck. “You’ve got press soon,” I remind her, my voice weak and shaky, already a puddle between my thighs as the girl holds me, lips working me with ease.

“Shut up,” she says, a strange authoritative tone in her voice. I pull back, glancing up at her.

“Excuse me.”

But Paige grabs my jaw, eyeing me underneath her heavy lids in a way that makes me feel small. Not the one in control.

“Shut the fuck up Iz,” she hisses, pushing me harshly into the wall behind me. My breathing grows ragged, the blonde’s lips back on my neck, sucking desperately. The room is spinning, and I’m getting overwhelmingly wet at Paige’s newfound dominance.

“You think you can just wear a skirt like this and I won’t fuck you? Nah, you’re a smart girl. You knew whatchu were doin’.” She murmurs into my ear, grabbing my thighs. There are chills running up and down my body, driving me wild.

“Paige,” I mumble, not sure what for as she pulls my shirt off, unbuckling my bra. My cheeks turn red, overwhelmed by the way she’s handling me.

“Need to see these tits,” she groans, pulling back to eye them. I feel a little unsure under the bright, unforgiving light but the look the blonde gets on her face quickly reassures me.

“Goddamn, you’re so sexy,” she moans and latches onto my nipple, her plump lips sucking on it. I bring my hands to her hair, but she grabs onto my wrists and pushes them against the cool wall. I gasp at her aggressiveness.

“But the lights,” I mumble, feeling my thighs burn as if on fire.

“Baby, you gotta keep your pretty mouth shut and lemme fuck you.”

Suddenly her fingertips are pushing against my thigh, forcing the denim skirt to ride up all the way to my waist. Her hand travels straight to my core, rubbing the fabric of my panties along the slit with her thumb. It’s no shock to me when the satin grows wet in a matter of seconds, my cunt already crying out for the blonde. A desperate whine leaves my mouth as I bite my lower lip, trying not to worry about the press conference that would be starting in a matter of minutes.

“Such a slut,” Paige hisses, kissing my breasts. I’m nearly offended, but for some reason her words were making me want her even more, making me more desperate. I had never been talked to like that before. I could feel my body submitting to her.

I’m too dumbfounded to answer when she spins me around with rough hands, pressing my front into the cold tile of the wall, hand gripping my hair to yank my head back. “Answer me. You’re a slut huh? Wantin’ me to fuck you so bad couldn’t even wait till we got home?”

“Paige,” my voice is breathy, trembling badly. She’s right of course, but my ego or my pride won’t allow the words to come out.

“You wanna cum ma?” She hisses, her breath hot in my ear. I nod eagerly, feeling my wetness begin to gather enough to drip down the insides of my thighs.

“Yes baby,” I cry out in a quiet voice. Paige grins in that familiar, arrogant way, chuckling smugly. It feels humiliating, which only drives me wilder for some reason.

“I can tell,” she teases, smacking my ass. It echoes around the tight storage room, surely loud enough to be heard from the outside. But neither of us care, especially when she swiftly hooks her fingers around my panties and pulls them down, letting them pool at my ankles. I feel the blonde move back, gripping the skin of my ass harshly to get a better view of my dripping cunt, glistening in the fluorescent light.

“Shit, ma,” she groans, unable to resist. Suddenly, three of her fingers slide into me, the stretch causing a jolt to run through my body.

I gasp loudly at the sudden intrusion, reaching back to grip Paige’s wrist. It was too much, way too intense for the setting, for me to remain quiet. But the blonde grabs onto my hand, pushing it away roughly. I nearly resist but then, her fingers curl inside me, against the soft tissue of my walls, and I nearly crash down. I let out a soft moan, nails scratching against the wall as she fucks me from behind with her fingers, my wetness gushing enough to be dripping down to her wrist and forearm.

“That’s it,” she praises, watching my ass jiggle each time she thrusts her fingers. “Goddamn I need to strap you.”

At this I let out a louder moan, the idea getting me even slicker. Paige chuckles, groaning to herself again.

“Yeah? You’d like that ma?”

I turn my head to glance back at her, cheek against the tile of the wall as I nod, eyes low with pleasure.

“Course you would,” she hisses, speeding up the movement of her fingers. “You act like you so sweet and classy, but I know you like to be fucked like a slut.”

I nod, eyes watering from how fast Paige’s fingers are curling inside my dripping cunt, the stretch turning from pain into something heavenly. I could feel my pussy squeezing her long digits, pulsing around them in desperation, gripping onto them as hard as it could.

“Tell me,” Paige says sternly, meeting my gaze. Her eyes are low and heavy, lips parted with want, hair falling out of her low pony, onto her face.

“Like the way you fuck me P,” I whine, embarrassed by the words. But it only riles the blonde on, as she brings her other hand to my front, reaching down to start rubbing tight, fast circles on my clit.

“Oh fuck,” I gasp, eyes rolling back as the pit in my stomach grows almost humiliatingly fast. The sound of the squelching a constant reminder of how much, no matter what I liked to pretend, Paige was the one to have control over me, instead of me over her.

“C’mon baby, be a good girl,” she groans, pressing sloppy kisses into my neck.

“I-” I gasp, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten and tighten, on the edge of bursting. “I’m close.”

“You wanna cum?” She asks to which I nod. “Ask nicely.”

I groan, eyes rolling back. I never liked being told what to do. But the way Paige’s fingers were slipping in and out of me, hitting the perfect spot to make me drip all over her hand, was making me weak, desperate. I would do anything right now. Just to cum. The idea of that felt filthy.

“Please P, please let me cum,” I whine, mind completely blank and forgotten about the press conference, or the possibility of people outside. No, the only thing that existed was me, Paige and her heavy breathing in my ear. “Please,” I cry out, doing everything I can to hold back.

“Good girl,” she coos into my eyes, nuzzling my neck with her nose. “Come on mama, cum.”

Obediently, my body finally rolls over the edge, trembling and shaking as Paige’s hands work my cunt skillfully. I’m gasping for air, the waves of pleasure making goosebumps rise all over my skin, my nipples hardening against the tile. My eyes roll back in ecstasy as the blonde pumps her fingers harshly, eventually slowing down to let me ride it out.

We’re both breathing loudly when she finally pulls away, leaving me with a strange kind of emptiness. I dress in silence, Paige watching me closely. Once I’m all covered up, she walks over and presses a kiss on my forehead. I hum, checking my phone.

“Shit, Paige you must go,” I hurry her, unlocking the door back into the tunnels. Empty, thank God. “You’re late, everyone’s looking for you.”

“Aight, I’m going,” she sighs, about to step out when she turns back around, grabbing my face and kissing it. I kiss her back, smiling against her lips.

“Go!” I giggle, pushing her away.

“Fine!” She laughs, walking out of the room backwards, to keep watching me for as long as she possibly could.

“That was some game Bueckers,” I tell her, which only makes her smile even more as she turns around and begins to jog towards the conference.

“And that three at the end was insane! Dude, you were all in Olivia’s face she looked like she was going to cry honestly…” Kiran explains excitedly, hands flailing around the air as he reimagines his favourite moments of the game. I grin, leaning back in the booth and sipping my hard earned beer. Arike nods, as engaged in the conversation as the boy beside me, clapping her hands together loudly.

“Yo, when Miles got into the refs faces I thought she was gon’ get a tech for sureeee,” Rike chimes in, barely containing her grin.

“Keep playing like that and we got rookie of the year right here,” Lou smiles, clinking the glass bottle with mine. I smile bashfully, looking around the bar a little embarrassed. It was a dingy, quiet one with low lighting, filled with people but we were definitely the loudest ones here.

“Fuck rookie of the year, how’ bout we get that ring,” Arike says confidently. I cover my face with my hand. We both knew that it would be far from our reach this year, but perhaps after a few years of playing together we could have a shot. It was bound to happen. Still, as I got to know Arike more, I learned she liked to exaggerate.

“Aight, enough,” I tell them, patting Kiran on the shoulder. “Let’s get you another drink,” I smile, waving the waitress over.

“Iz will be mad if you get me drunk,” he jokes.

I shrug, finishing my beer. “Let her, it’s your last night here.”

The waitress walks over, long braids and a sweet, Texas smile on her face as she approaches.

“What can I get y’all?” She asks. There’s a perky lilt to her voice, a glimmer in her eye that was far too familiar to me. Her brown eyes stay on mine, before looking me up and down noticeably.

“Two beers,” I simply say, not so affected by the clear hints the girl was giving me although she was clearly gorgeous. Honestly, since I met Iz, I couldn’t even think about another girl. Who would’ve thought. College me would be flabbergasted.

“Nothin’ else for you baby?” She asks, the pet name making Kiran snicker underneath his breath. I grin in a polite way, shaking my head at the waitress.

“Nah, thank you, we’re good.”

She nods, getting the hint. “Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

“Wow, that’s brave,” Kiran laughs as the waitress walks away. “Thinking you’re a lesbian.”

Me, Arike and Lou all turn to Kiran, raising our brows at the same time.

“Hollup,” Arike says, pointing at me. “You think this girl right here is straight?”

Suddenly Kiran’s face turns red, eyes flickering between me and the woman next to me.

“Uhh,” he mumbles. “I mean, Izzie said you’re gay but I thought that was just her joking around.”

At the same exact time, Arike and Lou burst into a choir of laughter, the corners of my mouth curling into a smile as well.

“Oh Kiran,” Lou gasps between laughs, reaching over to ruffle his hair. He had honestly become almost like a little brother only in the week he had spent with us. I knew I’d miss him once he was gone.

“W- So,” He mumbles, looking at me. “You’re gay?”

I nod, pressing my lips together in a tight smile. “Yeah, Kiran, I’m gay.”

“Ohhhh,” he says in realisation. “That makes sense then.”

“You know me and Lala ain’t just friends either?” Arike jokes, making the boy roll his eyes, much like his sister would. God I missed her, but she had to stay behind after the post game conference to schedule some content. Still, even a couple hours apart felt like torture.

“Well yes, you’ve got your hand on her ass 24/7.”

We all chuckle, as the waitress returns, holding two beer bottles in her hands.

“Thank you,” I grin, grabbing it from her. She flashes me a wide smile, before returning behind the bar.

“So why won’t you ask her out then?” Kiran asks, pointing to the pretty waitress with his bottle.

I shift nervously, rummaging my head for an excuse.

“Is she not your type?”

“Nah, it’s not that,” I quickly answer, looking at the girls beside me for any help. But both of them are looking away, pretending to be engaged in a conversation of their own. Traitors.

“Uh, just wanna focus on hoops for a bit.”

Kiran chuckles. “Well, you don’t have to look for a relationship. Why not get with her just for a shag.”

“Uhh, well,” I mumble, my face turning red. Just as Kiran begins to wave the waitress over, Izzie’s voice stops him.

“Are you drinking again?” She scolds her brother. I turn my head to find her standing behind me, arms crossed and face scrunched. I guess it had been a stressful evening for her. My heart aches, wanting nothing more than to sit her beside me, let her order anything she wanted and drive her home to take care of her, to allow her to relax. Every cell in my being wanted to serve her.

“Paige said it’s okay,” Kiran argues. Her green eyes flicker to me, making me nervous and regretful.

“Paige,” she scoffs, everyone around us laughing at our dynamic.

“‘M sorry, it’s the beer. It’s bad for my judgement,” I whine, earning a smile from the girl. It makes me want to burst.

“You’re a constant pain my ass Paige,” she jokes, signalling for her brother to stand up so she can sit beside me. The minute I feel her bare thigh pressing into mine, my body calms down, all my muscles relaxing miraculously.

“I think you like it,” I whisper into her ear, giving her cheek a kiss. Platonic enough to seem friendly to her brother.

“So,” Kiran says, leaning forward. “Paige thinks that waitress is fit.”

Oh God. I watch as Izzie’s eyes follow where her brother is pointing, eyeing the girl before looking at me. Her gaze sharpens, entire demeanor growing tense.

“Oh,” she mutters, furrowing her dark brows. “I see.”

“No, no, that’s not what I said,” I immediately jump in, scolding Kiran. But he simply shakes his head.

“I reckon she should go ask for her number, what do you think Iz?”

The girl shifts so our sides aren’t touching anymore, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s upset, a blind man could tell.

“I think Paige can do what she wants,” she says coldly, avoiding my gaze. Arike covers her mouth to hide her laughter.

“Kiran,” Rike hisses, trying to get him to stop. It’s no use.

“Yeah, she came over and was calling her baby and everything,” Kiran continues, my cheeks burning bright red now.

“I see, well that’s nice,” Izzie mumbles, pulling out her phone just to slide back and forth between her home screens. “Go ahead, do it.”

“No Iz, c’mon,” I say, my hand coming to stroke her thigh gently underneath the table. But she pulls away. I couldn’t lie though, there was a part of me feeling satisfied - Izzie liked me enough to get upset over something like this.

I exhale, knowing this might be stupid move. But I couldn’t bare to have Izzie upset with me. “Kiran, I’m already sorta seeing someone,” I say hesitantly, knowing this was the only way. “She’s awesome, Ion wanna ruin it. I’m so into her.”

Izzie’s green eyes turn to me, our gazes meeting. Her face softens, and slowly she presses against my side again. I feel flutters overwhelming my chest, wanting nothing more than to kiss her right now.

“Oh, my apologies,” Kiran says understandingly, though his hazel eyes remain on me and Iz, watchful.

“Is it someone I know?” He asks.

Me and Izara stare into each other for a moment, and I can tell she’s considering, mulling it over in her head. Maybe her brother deserved to know, maybe he would even like us being together. He certainly liked me, and I liked him.

But the reality is, no one should know, and far too many people already did. As much as I wanted to show everyone she was mine, to shout it from the rooftops, I wanted to keep her here much more.

“Uh, no,” I mumble, finally breaking eye contact. Iz does the same, smiling awkwardly at her brother. Kiran nods, eyes flickering between me and his sister for a while.

“I’m kinda hungry,” Lou complains, eyes skimming the bar. “They do any food here?”

“I think so,” Izzie says, standing up in the booth to look for a menu, until she spots a pile of them stacked at the corner of the bar. “I hope they have mozzarella sticks.”

“You and your damn mozzarella sticks,” I laugh, still aware of Kiran’s hazel eyes locked on me and Iz. I ignore it, standing up with Izara and following her to the bar. She grabs the maroon menu with her slender fingers decorated with gold rings, skimming over the pages.

“They do have mozzarella sticks!” She grins. I smile at her warmly, her excitement heating up my chest. “You girls probably want some wings huh?”

“Yes ma’am,” I smile, leaning over her shoulder to read the menu from behind her. Discreetly, the girl presses her butt into my hips, ever so slightly leaning backwards to send jolts all over my body. My hands are itching to touch her, to hold her waist - in an attempt to resist I slide them into the pocket of my hoodie, keeping them restricted.

“Kiran too, and maybe some fries?” She asks. I turn around, yelling to Kiran over the chatter of the bar.

“Yo, Kiran,” I shout. “Whatchu want?”

Izzie murmurs something, but I barely hear her, trying to make sense of what Kiran is trying to reply all the way from our booth.

“Paigeuhh!” Izzie whines, her hand reaching up and yanking on my sleeve, and then my hood, in an attempt to get my attention. But I don’t turn, because I can see Kiran’s movements stop for a millisecond, eyes suddenly widening in shock, realisation finally hitting him. It’s then I remember the story of Izara, and her childhood crush, and the pulling on the hood. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

We stare at each other, frozen in time. I rummage my mind for a reason, for an excuse, for anything I could use to hide what’s been going on. But the evidence is stacked against us and for the first time, Kiran is finally realising it.

He stands up from the booth, walking briskly to me and Izzie. For a second I think he’s just going to blurt it out, chew Izzie off for not telling him. And I know she’d blame me for it, maybe even start questioning our relationship. I feel my chest aching, my breathing getting heavy.

“Oh, Ki, should we get fries?” Izara asks, oblivious to the past half a minute as her pretty green eyes skim the menu.

“Paige, you got a sec? Can we talk?” Kiran asks, with the authoritative, stern voice of his sister. I knew they were similar, but in this moment as the boy’s face hardened, the family resemblance really came through.

“Uh, sure,” I mumble, cheeks burning up. I hand Izzie my card, tapping her on the arm as platonically as I can, now feeling bashful under Kiran’s knowing eyes. “Order whatever you want Iz.”

Me and Kiran walk around the bar, to the terrace buzzing with people, clumsy and tipsy with alcohol. It smells like dried up beer, and sunscreen as we push through to a less crowded corner, me following right behind the boy.

Finally he stops, turning around. There’s a moment he doesn’t speak, and I think he’s about to punch me. But as he exhales, a sly smile grows on his face,

“Man, I had a feeling something was up. I’ve never seen Izzie acting like that around her friends,” he chuckles, but I’m still having a hard time reading how he really feels about it. For a moment I consider just lying, pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about. But it’s too late, and I’m too tired. I want him to know.

“Kiran, I shoulda said sumn,” I murmur, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

“Nah, my sister should have,” Kiran says, sipping his beer.

“She’s just tryna protect us, we’re tryna keep it on the low y’know,” I immediately defend Izzie.

“No, I understand,” he nods, thinking for a while. “I just feel so stupid. She came out to me a few years ago, before, y’know, Jasper, but I didn’t believe her. I just thought she was one of those girls who wanted to be interesting by saying they like girls too. Never thought she’d actually… Be with a girl.”

I swallow, looking at my feet. “Is that bad? That… uh, that she’s with a girl?”

“No, not at all,” Kiran immediately stops me, making his stance on the thing clear. “She’s just been through so much, I worry about her. She always picks the wrong people.”

I chuckle, nodding. “Yeah, so I heard,” I say. “But I’m not like that. Would rather die than hurt that girl.”

He looks at me, wondering. “So is this like a thing-thing, or just something casual?”

I meet his hazel eyes. “We ain’t talk yet,” I say truthfully. “But personally? I’m pretty locked down.”

Kiran keeps watching me.

“She’s amazing, wouldn’t even dream of hurtin’ her.”

“Good, because if you do, we got trouble,” he says, and I believe him. Truthfully, it’s her who could really hurt me. Not the other way around.

“I’m countin’ on that,” I grin. After a moment of hesitation, Kiran wraps an arm around me, and hugs me just for a moment, patting my back.

“You’re a good person, I know you’ll take care of her.”

“Always gonna,” I hug him back, before pulling away.

“We shouldn’t tell her that I know, she’s going to freak out.”

I laugh. “Yeah, let’s just keep it between us, yeah?”

“Just so you know,” Kiran chuckles as we begin to head back inside. “If this ends badly I’m always siding with her.”

I laugh, finishing my beer. “Yeah, I’d side with her too.”

“Oh, you got it that bad?”

“Worse.”

“Passport? Charger? Wallet? Waterbottle? Did you remember to pack your jersey?” I ask as me and Kiran head towards TSA, Paige following a little behind.

“You’re acting like I didn’t make a list,” Kiran groans, earning a snicker from the blonde.

“Okay and you still forget stuff so what’s your point?”

My brother stops, grabbing my shoulders and looking at me reassuringly. “Izara, I have everything. Stop worrying. You’re being like mum.”

The truth was I wasn’t worrying about his luggage, I was worrying about him leaving. My chest ached with anxiety and dread, thinking of the moment we had to say goodbye. I loved Dallas, but my God I wanted my brother here more than anything.

“Okay,” I sigh, fully aware that it was time to say goodbye. I wanted to delay the moment, do anything to push it back just a minute more. But there was no choice, I’d have to face it sometime. Paige, noticing my anxiety, places a big hand on my shoulder and rubs. It’s a comforting and grounding presence that I’m glad to have right now.

“We’ll see each other soon, yeah?” Kiran comforts me. I nod, feeling my eyes begin to well up. Great. I hate crying in front of people.

My brother turns to Paige, smiling in a way that meant something more, but what? I couldn’t tell.

“Take care of her,” Kiran says before hugging the blonde. Paige pats his upper back, nodding as she really takes the words in, like they mean more than what’s being said.

“Always, you take care bro.”

“And come to London, Izzie will bring you.”

I scoff. “I will?”

“You must,” Kiran smiles, pulling back. “And don’t be too hard on her,” he says half jokingly, turning to me. I’m not sure what he means, but before I can ask, he’s wrapping his arms around me. I hug him back, fighting the tears threatening to spill over.

“I’ll miss you,” I simply say, wishing I could keep my brother here forever.

“I’ll miss you too Iz,” he replies, his voice softer than usual.

“Tell mum and dad I said hi.”

“Okay.”

“And text me when you land.”

“Okay.”

“A-and when you board.”

“Iz,” he laughs, pulling back. “I’ll text you the entire way home, okay?”

I nod, exhaling heavily before letting my hands fall to my side from around him. My eyes burn, my throat feels like it’s about to close. But I don’t cry. I refuse.

“Okay, see you,” he flashes that bright, familiar smile, grabbing his carry-on and finally turning around.

“Safe travels,” I mumble, watching as he stands in the queue, waiting for his turn. Paige’s arm snakes around my waist comfortingly as I chew on my bottom lip, anxiety washing over me. I lean my head to her side, not caring about Kiran possibly noticing.

“C’mon,” Paige says carefully, “Let's go home.”

The drive is silent, as I stare out the window, trying to ignore the pain spreading over my chest and throat. It’s like Dallas knew that Kiran left, the sky a gloomy grey and the mixture of humidity and heat making it overbearing and sticky. There’s a storm brewing. You could feel it. The air shifts, the wind picks up.

Paige walks me to my door, leaning against the frame as I take off my shoes.

“You okay mama?” The blonde asks, watching me closely. The moment she does, I burst into tears, finally getting relief from the burning of my eyes. Without hesitating for a second, Paige steps in and wraps me in her arms, like a cocoon of comfort, closing the door behind her.

“Hey,” she comforts, holding me tightly and kissing the top of my head. “Shh, you’re okay Iz.”

She scoops me in her arms, like I’m the lightest person in the world. I cling to her, holding onto her hood as she’s walking me to my couch and placing me down as carefully as she could. Before I can even notice she’s brought me snacks, water, tissues and there’s a movie on, though I’m barely watching, my eyes wet and red with tears.

“I hate goodbyes,” I sniffle.

“I know,” Paige mumbles softly, wiping a tear from my soft cheek, her fingertips cold against my skin.

“Thanks for staying.”

Paige scoots herself between me and the corner of the couch, letting me sit in her lap while she holds me all evening, simply letting me cry. Not trying to distract me, or make me feel bad. She simply lets me feel it all, making me feel safe to do so for the first time in years.

My arm grows tingly and numb, but I’m too afraid to move it in case it might disturb the sleeping girl. Izzie’s eyes are closed, long lashes pressed against her cheeks as she breathes heavily in her slumber. Her face is puffy and red from crying, lips uncharacteristically chapped from all the biting. I kiss her forehead gently, pulling my arm from under her as carefully as I possibly could.

I stop as she stirs, but quickly becomes motionless again, giving me a chance to escape just for a moment. I climb over the corner of the couch, fixing the blanket over the girl. It felt special to know she felt comfortable enough to be this vulnerable with me. I knew it wasn’t easy for her. Yet she still lets me take care of her like this. Not Trey, not Jasper, me.

I take light steps into her bedroom, rummaging my brain for any sort of chapstick she might have. I check her purse, but there’s nothing. No sign of chapstick. Frustrated, I begin to go through the drawers of her nightstand, finally getting to the bottom one. I kneel over it, moving piles of neatly organised papers out of the way when I see it.

Together with their parents, Jasper Hughes and Izara Chopra request the honor of your presence at their wedding on June 20th 2025 at one o’clock in the afternoon Syon Park Brent Lea, Brentford Reception immediately after Black tie required

The words are printed on a thick, cream coloured paper that feels silky to the touch, heavy in my hands. It’s clean, timeless - the calligraphy gold-embellished and elegant against a backdrop of soft ivory, a silk ribbon carelessly left open around it. My blue eyes read it again and again before I take it in. A wedding. Izara’s wedding. Izzie’s and Jasper’s. Wedding. A wedding I had never heard about. A past kept hidden from me, for a reason I didn’t want to find out.

I drop the invite back into the drawer, crashing down onto the ground, frustration growing within me. My chest heaves and feels tight, like I might be sick. Why would she have kept this from me? She was engaged? The room feels like closing in, my eyes burning hot all of a sudden.

I feel like a joke, checking the date on my phone. June 20th. Kiran had come here to be with her so she could make it through this time. And here I was comforting her, over something I thought was completely different thinking we were something more. I felt like a fool, like an idiot. Just a rebound to someone who had been getting married. Fucking married. Without telling me. I thought we told each other everything.

taglist:@wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @bueckersfive @lupinqs @sierrale8ne @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @janaelalfysblunt @omg-imtumbling @angryflowerwitch @ohbueckers @ohmybueckers @potatobears-world @st4yyyy @wnbawag @maryjanewatsons @naeswrrldd @she-is-my-unrequited-love34 @paige05bby @paigebaby5

#so it goes #lilas writing yaps #paige bueckers fanfic #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x fem reader #wlw smut #paige bueckers x fem oc

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pomefioredove · 5 months ago

Text

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ requiem of a cringe

did something embarrassing last night and was like "I need to go crawl in a hole and die. OR I could write"

type of post: blurbs characters: cater, rook, jack, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral (the term "damsel in distress" is used in vil's part, but it's meant to be teasing and not indicative of the reader's gender), reader is yuu, rook is rook

I. Talks Too Much

It's not that you're trying to be annoying.

Your mouth simply moves faster than your mind, and before you know it, you've been talking for twenty uninterrupted minutes about... well... nothing.

You always notice that uncomfortable, irritated look on their face just after you're done. And then you keep rambling in an attempt to make it less awkward (it never does).

And now you're here, hiding in the hedge maze outside Heartslabyul, thinking about getting lost and never coming out of it.

Of course, if anyone were to find you now, it'd be him.

"Hey, hon~ you busy?"

"Please, not now, Cater," you mutter.

The boy stills, looking a little taken aback by how miserable you sound.

"Are you still upset about that thing at the Unbirthday Party? That was hours ago, babe! I bet no one even remembers,"

You physically cringe. The faces of your uncomfortable tablemates won't seem to leave your memory...

"I remember it," you murmur, burying your face in your hands. "I'm so annoying."

For once, Cater is quiet. A minute goes by, and you think he may have left, until you hear the grass crunching under his knees as he kneels down and pulls you into a hug.

"You are not annoying. And even if you were, it'd only make me like you more," he mutters, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Understand?"

Your surprise at his change in tone doesn't stop you from hugging back. "Understood,"

You hadn't meant to say all of that.

You just spilled a potion you'd been working on for hours, and amidst your frustrated floor-scrubbing, you had vented about your entire week to your poor lab partner, a person you had been trying to impress all semester.

He had, gracefully, let you finish your rant, and then let you sit in it, just like the harmless potion now coating your knees as you cleaned up the floor.

Then, he awkwardly said: "That... sucks. I guess. I don't know what to say,"

There had probably never, in your whole life, been a person who looked more unhappy to be around you.

Afterwards, you found a nice spot in the woods behind campus to die.

You lie there, hoping nature would reclaim you before next alchemy class, when some purposefully loud rustling in the bushes catches your eye.

"Ah, Trickster! You really should not lie like that- a predator will take that as weakness, non? Are you injured?"

"Only my pride,"

"Talking about it will make you feel better," Rook says. It's more of a demand than a question.

You sigh. "I think I've done enough talking for... ever, actually,"

"Nonsense," he suddenly straddles your waist and pins your wrists to the earth. "I will not move until you tell me the problem, mon cœur."

You're like an animal in a snare. Once Rook has made up his mind, that's it. He will find out.

And so, with a sigh, you let him take the kill- that is, you tell him everything. Your whole, terrible week, the potion incident, the look on your lab partner's face...

When you're done, he's just. Smiling. "I see now. You are embarrassed,"

"Well... yes. You don't think that's embarrassing?"

He beams. "You are simply overflowing with beautiful emotion and passion for la vie! How could I ever find that embarrassing? You and I are not so different,"

In a weird way, that makes sense. Rook is never one to let shame hold him back from expressing his feelings.

He smiles at your pensive expression, and gives you a kiss on the head.

"Mais, next time you are upset, maybe you should come to me first, non?"

II. Clumsy

Forgetful, scatterbrained, oblivious, dimwitted are all words you've become used to hearing.

As well as a few colorful swears.

You have two left feet, even when you're not dancing- you're used to walking into walls, tripping, and dropping things- it just sucks that you have an audience now.

The first years that had gathered around the mess you made- tripping over your own feet and spilling the papers you were meant to deliver to Ace and Deuce all over the floor- are watching with grins and phones out.

You pretend they're not there, even with their taunts and whistles and laughter.

"Hey! Loitering is a waste of time!" someone barks. Literally.

You look up to see Jack moving through the crowd, scolding the other first years for blocking the hall.

When he sees you in the eye of the storm, on your hands and knees picking up your spilled papers, something upset takes his usually-stoic demeanor.

"What's the matter with you?!" he snarls at the boys. "Didn't anyone teach you any manners?! It's rude to stare- and laugh!"

His ears are flattened against his head when he kneels down beside you to help, collecting the papers, and putting them in your hands.

"Come on, we'll be late if you keep 'sittin there,"

Jack pulls you to your feet and gives one final snarl to the other first years before walking you off.

"...Thanks,"

"Eh? Don't mention it," he says. "Leona woulda had my tail if I just walked by..."

You know there's more to it than that, but you don't push. You're just happy he's forgotten to take his hand out of yours.

You can't handle being the center of attention.

For good reason, too- you're awkward, clumsy, and about the least graceful a person can get.

A true Ugly Duckling at a place like NRC. But Vil Schoenheit sees the swan in you. Perhaps that's why he's always been so patient and sweet.

It's a little distracting.

So much is obvious when he waves at you in the hall and, distracted by his smile, you walk right into a wall.

Though you can't see anything but stars after falling on your butt, the stares and snickers of everyone else are hard to miss.

Vil glares them away with a look that could kill twice over, and then stands over you as you lay on the floor.

"Come on," he says, holding out a hand. "I'll check you for concussion."

He brings you to Pomefiore and sits you down, shooing off a few curious underclassmen as he checks your pupils. "Do you feel nauseous?"

"Not really,"

"Then you'll be fine. Just a bump. You really should be more careful, though,"

You've heard that one before. Vil smiles at your dazed expression, and presses a cold compress against your head.

"This will help with the swelling,"

"Thanks," you mutter, still a little out of it. "You're my hero."

His eyebrows raise in true surprise, and then he chuckles. "And that makes you a damsel in distress?"

He doesn't give you a chance to respond before taking away the compress and kissing the red mark on your head.

"Don't think that being so cute is going to distract me. I'll make some time for lessons on poise this weekend,"

III. Unsociable

You'd think that being quiet and staying out of people's ways would get them to leave you alone, but it really just attracts more attention.

And after a grueling period of your tablemates making you the butt of every joke ("wow, I didn't know you could even talk!" "are you quiet because you hate us? come onnn, you can tell me!") you were ready to bury yourself alive.

"I don't ever want to leave," You mumble into the bundle of sheets and blankets on Idia's unmade bed.

"You could stay, y'know," Idia says from his desk, mindlessly scrolling through some gaming forum. "I should blackmail Crowley into letting you stay down here at least half the year."

"Couldn't it be the whole?"

"Nah. You need like, sunlight and stuff,"

"And you don't?!"

Idia snickers. "I'm built different. You know that. I get all my nutrients from blue light... You could at least stay for the weekend, though,"

You roll your eyes.

"...And I'll leak those normies' data. I'm sure I could get into their browser histories and have that emailed to their parents,"

Hm. You genuinely consider it for a moment, but eventually decide to give mercy. You're basically a saint.

"I think I just wanna pretend like I don't exist right now,"

Idia nods in understanding and pushes his gaming chair over to the edge of the bed, before crawling in and wrapping himself around you.

"That can be done. Pancakes tomorrow?"

Sure, there were people who talked to you, but you didn't talk back.

You just don't know how, you suppose. Every time you try, you end up saying the wrong thing, or are accidentally rude, or do something embarrassing.

You don't understand the references people make. You don't get social cues or hints. You have the social skills of an oyster.

Four months at Night Raven College, and you didn't have a single friend.

Well- except for him.

"How are you enjoying your tea?" Malleus asks, polite and curt as ever.

You take another sip- it's tangy, sweet, with a hint of bitterness. Some sort of Briar Valley blend that Malleus had imported just for you.

"I really like it,"

He smiles. "I'm pleased,"

One of the things you find so agreeable about Malleus is his simplicity. He often says exactly what he means; albeit, in a sort of 13th century Lord sort of way.

There's less stress with him. You don't have to pretend to be interesting, or outgoing, or cool. You can just be... you.

Because he likes you.

"You know," you say with a faint smile. "You're so nice to me. Sometimes I think that you're the only person I need. I could be happy with just you for the rest of my life."

You had meant that casually, but when you look back up from your cup, Malleus has this... look.

Wide-eyed, his lips pressed firmly together. There's even a dusting of color on his cheeks.

"Oh," you internally panic. Was that too much? Was that weird? Did you make things awkward again? Crap, you should have just acted normal, what's wrong with you?! "S-sorry, I-"

"Do you truly mean that?"

You go quiet, looking back at him with wide eyes. Your heart is pounding against your chest.

"...Yes,"

Malleus hums, his expression becoming more... pensive, and then...

He smiles. "I feel the same. Shall we go for a walk while the night is still young?"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #cater diamond x reader #rook hunt x reader #jack howl x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader

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himasgod · 20 days ago

Note

bubbly sunshine reader x grumpy moon leona ......nnnm,mm.....ss..,.

LEONA X READER

Where you are his ray of sunshine, and he your grumpy moon <3

The sun shines brightly that day on the grounds of NRC, but even that isn't as bright as you.

Literally, you.

"Good morning, Leona!" you sing in your cheerful tone as you peek into the usual corner where he sleeps among the flowers.

The grumpy lion, half-buried in the shade of a tree, covers his face with his arm.

"You again?"

"Of course! You promised me you'd study for the Potions exam, remember? And I'm your official tutor now!"

You sit down next to him without waiting for an invitation, unfolding your notes decorated with colorful drawings.

Leona sighs. His tail twitches lazily, as if debating whether to give you a swipe or simply resign himself to your presence.

"I don't need to study. I have photographic memory."

"And yet you failed Crewel's last exam!" You thrust a piece of paper with a giant red 3 in front of his face.

"You're not fooling me, Leona."

He pushes the paper away with a huff, half annoyed, half surrendered. Then he turns and looks at you out of the corner of his eye.

"Why do I even bother arguing with you? You're like a nuisance on legs. That sparkles."

"Thanks!" you respond with a radiant smile, as if it hadn't been an insult.

And there it is. That's the reason he hasn't kicked you out yet. That silly, invincible sweetness, that warmth that even his cynicism can't quite extinguish. Or for example, other day...

"Leonaaaa," you sing as you enter in his dorm in Savannaclaw.

"I brought snacks!"

He doesn't answer.

"Ruggie told me you haven't been out in two days. Are you sick?"

Instead of a complaint or an insult, you hear something almost unheard of: a snort.

You find him lying on his bed, frowning, more serious than usual.

"…What's wrong?" you ask, lowering your voice now, sitting closer. "Did you have a bad night?"

"I'm just tired."

"Leona. You can tell me, you know? Not everything has to be a battle. I'm here for you, even when you don't want to study or eat cookies with me."

There's a long silence.

And then, he whispers:

"I'm sick of pretending not to care. Carrying expectations, only for everyone to assume I'll fail. Being second place. Always."

"Oh, Leona…" your voice softens like a caress. "What if I told you that, to me, you're not second at anything?"

"Tch. Don't say nonsense," he replies, turning his face away.

"It's not nonsense," you say firmly, taking his hand.

"You're strong, smart, stubborn as a mule, yes, but you're also someone who deserves to be truly loved!"

He looks at you then. Without a trace of sarcasm.

"And you… love me?"

Your smile widens, and your cheeks tinge with a faint blush.

"Of course I do! Even though you're grumpy and half-cat and sometimes smell like grass."

He narrows his eyes.

"I'm not a cat. I'm a lion."

"So I can say I'm your personal sunshine? Cuz lions love to lie in the sun, don't they?"

A low growl. A sigh. And then, a hand rises to your head to stroke it lightly.

"Maybe you're more useful than I thought, herbivore."

"That was almost a compliment!"

"Don't get used to it."

Or, weeks later...

"Leona? Are you studying… voluntarily?"

"Shut up and sit down. I need you to explain this to me again."

"I knew it! My sun is melting your icy heart!"

"…I'm going to bite you if you don't stop."

"I'd let you if you promise to kiss me afterward!"

And this time, Leona doesn't growl. This time, he rolls her eyes… and leans in to give you that kiss.

Because at the end of the day, even the proudest lion can love the sun that dared to shine for him.

#leona x reader #twisted x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona #leona kingscholar #leona x yuu #leona kingscholar x reader

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losers-clvb · 2 months ago

Text

"what am i supposed to do, if there's no you?" dean winchester x wife!reader

content: canon typical violence, depictions of blood, death, depictions of grief, angry grief, pre-death grief, angst, denial, mentions of cancer (and treatments), non-descriptive mentions of throwing up, death, dean shows emotions, fluff

word count: 5.5k

note: this one gets pretty heavy, but ultimately there is a happy ending. be careful with yourself if any of the content listed above is harmful to you. also, there is some mary winchester erasure because i didn't feel like writing her (sorry girl). and, jack has been given some special secret powers in order to fit this plot.

m.list

You hadn’t known there was so much blood in the human body.

All of it seemed to be laid out on the ground around you, puddling up in the creases of your elbows.

You had to be dead. There was no way your heart could still beat when you were drowning in a sea of red.

You could remember the pain of the initial slash, claws digging into your side as you ran from the attacker.

But now?

Now you were numb.

The only sensation you had was cold. You shivered in the warm night air, staring up at the tree branches looming over you. You wished you could see the sky, just glimpse the stars one last time.

“Shit,” you heard breathed out from the side of you.

Dean.

Your Dean.

His hands grazed over your wound, making you flinch away out of instinct.

“Honey, please,” Dean begged, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. You didn’t know exactly what he was asking for.

You to not be hurt? You to not die?

It wasn’t as if it was up to you.

Dean, you tried to say, but his name caught in your throat. You couldn’t talk, you could barely move.

“Shh, shh,” he tried to soothe, but you could hear the tremble in his voice. You could always hear the tremble when he was scared. “Don’t move.”

Dean glanced around wildly, his eyes falling on dead leaves and broken branches.

“Sammy!” He yelled, tears streaking through the dirt coating his face.

This was all his fault.

It was supposed to be an easy hunt.

One werewolf ripping hearts from the chests of anyone who stood in its way. Dean was gonna kill the poor bastard and get back in time for dinner.

That was the plan, until you begged to come along with him. He’d been hurt on the last hunt, an injury that left him in your care for weeks afterwards. You were nervous about him getting back out there. You didn’t want it to be the last time you’d see him.

He’d agreed on your tagging along under the condition that you stay locked in the car, safe with a sweater wrapped around you.

The same sweater that was tattered beyond belief.

Blood, your blood, trickled over your ring, turning the diamond a splotchy red.

“No, no, no,” Dean mumbled, brushing his hand over your cheek to get your attention. Your eyes fluttered back open.

“You gotta stay with me, sweetheart. Please--,” he choked on a cry that almost escaped, “please just… stay awake.”

Your breath was shallow. Not good. Black dots spotted your vision. Not good. Dean looked scared. Not good.

Footsteps ran up, nearly tripping on the soft grass when their owner saw the scene in front of him. Sam stared down at you, Dean crouched over you.

“Sam, get over here, now.” Dean demanded, heaving out breaths.

“Dean--,” Sam started, but his brother cut him off.

“Get the hell over here!” Dean yelled, chin trembling.

Sam stumbled over, helping Dean hoist you up.

Suddenly, you could feel the pain.

You cried out, head lolling back into Dean’s chest.

“I know, honey, I know,” Dean choked, trying not to utterly lose it while you were in this condition. He’d seen people, good people, die from wounds less intense than this.

Stop.

He couldn’t think about that right now.

You were going to live. There wasn’t any way he could live without you.

“Sammy, faster!” Dean had urged from the backseat, where he cradled your head in his lap.

They needed a hospital now. He would figure out a lie to tell the doctors later, something that would explain how you had gotten so hurt. He couldn’t think right now, not with the blood still flowing out.

“Dean,” you crackled out, your hand falling onto where his help pressure on the injury. His eyes snapped to your face, searching wildly for a clue of what you were gonna say.

“I,” you took in a breath, wincing when the inflation of your lungs pushed more pain through you, “I love you.” You were whispering as loudly as you could muster up.

Dean shook his head, brushing your hair from your forehead.

“You’re fine.” He promised you, but his voice wavered. You weren’t fine. You were dying.

“I love you so much.” You felt tears stream from your eyes. You didn’t know if it was from the thrumming pain or the fact that you were scared to die. Maybe a mix of both.

“You--,” Dean started to say, but the screech of Baby’s tires skidding to a stop in front of the emergency room doors cut him off.

Sam helped pull you from the car, placing you in Dean’s arms to be rushed into the hospital.

That had been almost seven months ago.

You had almost died. Almost.

And so had Dean, not from any monster or slice in his skin. He almost lost you. You, his only reason to live, his lifeline, his everything. In his eyes, the sun rose and set with you.

Now, he sat by your side on the light blue couch you had picked out from a second-hand store. The quilt you had spent weeks sewing together lay over your legs.

“We should get this.” You pointed a finger at the laptop screen in front of you, a book pulled up just under your fingertip. On the cover was a trio of bears, two big, one little. Baby Bear’s Family stood out in thick letters. Dean raised an eyebrow and looked at you.

“Babies can’t read, honey.” He reminded you, eliciting an eye roll from you.

“We read to the baby, Winchester.” You added it to your cart regardless. A pop-up message informing you there would be a wait on the item showed, but you figured it would show up in a timely manner.

“You read to the baby, Winchester.” Dean added that last part with a grab of your hand, your wedding band cold against his skin. You furrowed your brows. “I teach it what real music is.”

“It? You can’t call our baby it.” You laughed, a sound that Dean let sink into his being. He loved your laugh.

“What else do I say?”

“Umm…,” you hummed as you thought, searching around for a name to put to the nonexistent person.

You weren’t pregnant, not yet, at least. You and Dean had begun to care less about using condoms, opting to let fate decide whether or not you two would be parents. It wasn’t until two days ago when you had woken up from a dream in the middle of the night, nudging Dean awake with a I want a baby that you two had really started trying.

He wasn’t complaining.

He hadn’t let himself imagine much of a future before you, but with you as his? He could see it all: white-picket fence, you waking up with him every morning, little feet tittering across floorboards. Now he had it.

Well, the fence was a red color, and there were many times he’d woken up to the smell of bacon, you having gotten up before him. No matter, it was still perfect. You were perfect.

He was ready to have perfect children with you.

“Baby Bear.” You decided, eyes falling back to the book. Dean snorted a laugh.

“I am not saying Baby Bear,” he argued, not catching onto the fact that he just did.

“Why not?” You frowned, memorizing every line of the artwork on the front of your new favorite book.

“It’s girly. I’m a man.”

“Dean, you were wearing my fluffy pink bathrobe yesterday.” You reminded him. If he was going to claim to be a man, whatever his definition of it was, you weren’t going to let him make exceptions.

“It’s warm!” He defended, a smile crossing his face. You two had fought over who would wear the robe all morning, up until the point you had pulled it off of him before pushing him back into bed, continuing on your mission of making a baby.

“Baby Bear.” You said with finality, letting him know you weren’t letting this go.

“Baby Bear.” Dean begrudgingly let out, giving you a soft kiss.

You pushed the laptop to the coffee table in front of you two, letting him guide you onto your back as he deepened the kiss, his hand snaking up your shirt.

That must have been the time it stuck. Or maybe it was from the next day, or that night after.

Either way, you were one-hundred-percent, without a doubt, sure that you were pregnant.

You’d been more tired than usual, getting some morning sickness, and your breasts were sore.

It had to be pregnancy, right?

“Why can’t I go get you one of those sticks to pee on?” Dean asked, watching you flutter around the bedroom in preparation for your doctor’s appointment.

“Those things are wrong all the time, I wanna know for sure.” You muttered, brushing through your hair.

“You really think Baby Bear is makin’ an appearance?” Dean looked to your middle. You weren’t showing, obviously, but he could imagine a little baby taking form in there. You stopped in front of him, giving him a kiss on the nose.

“I know it.” You assured him.

The trip to the doctor’s office was filled with your plans for the nursery, what dress you would wear for the baby shower, what Baby Bear’s first birthday party would look like.

You couldn’t stop chattering on to everyone you interacted with: Dean, the nurses, the older woman waiting next to you in the waiting room.

You talked and talked, a bright smile on your face. You had just moved onto what brand stroller you wanted when the doctor entered the room again, a clipboard in hand.

You looked at him expectantly, but confusion sparked at the second physician that entered. She was about your height, with light purple scrubs. An enamel pin of a pink ribbon was fastened to the pocket on her chest.

Your face dropped as the doctor, the one who was supposed to tell you those words you had waited to hear all your life, explained the test results.

His words blurred in your mind, like you had dunked your head under water. Dean’s grip on your hand tightened.

There was something growing in you, but it wasn’t Baby Bear.

Metastatic stage IV breast cancer.

I don’t know how they didn’t catch it before, the doctor had told you. Apparently, this foreign thing had been growing in you since before your werewolf attack. Maybe it was the reason why the scratch hadn’t turned you, why you hadn’t been given lupine abilities.

You would have preferred that to this.

Chemo, radiation, pills upon pills.

Those were your options.

No surgery could get all of the cancer.

Nothing could. You weren’t going to get better, you would just slow down the dying. You knew it, the doctors knew it, your friends and family knew it. The only one who didn’t seem to get the memo was Dean.

He carted you around to every appointment. He made notes in that illegible scrawl of his. He set alarms for every round of pills you had to take, waking you up and making you swallow each and every one. He held your thinning hair back when you got sick after the chemo, sitting on the bathroom floor with you.

He had work, yes, his mechanic job he had picked up after quitting hunting. His boss, thankfully, was kind. He let Dean miss work, even offering to have his wife bring you to appointments. Dean always declined. He could take care of his girl.

You were sitting on the couch in the same spots you had just a few months ago, only this time you were watching Dean scroll through articles on cancer treatments instead of ones about different baby cries.

You wore the hat that Jody and the girls had gifted you when you had to shave your hair, their initials stitched into the side by Donna. It was your favorite. It reminded you of all the love that was around you, even if the hat only existed because of the poison coursing through your veins.

“Look at this one,” Dean pointed, much like you had to the baby book, the same one that still hadn’t arrived. Not that it mattered now.

“It’s in Toronto.” You told him after reading the first few lines. You and Dean lived in South Dakota, only an hour or so from Sioux Falls.

“We can move.” He said as he scrolled through the different tabs of the article.

“I don’t want to.” You argued, exhaustion lacing your voice. You were always tired lately.

“It won’t be forever, just until you’re better.”

“I’m not going to get better.”

That made Dean pause to look at you. His grief from your words, words he knew were true, was masked by disappointment and irritation. He hated when you talked like this.

“Yes, you are.” He gritted out, determination in his eyes.

“No, Dean, I’m not. I’m dying.” You looked away at the mention of the “D” word. You weren’t supposed say it, no one was supposed to say it. Dean had forbidden it.

“No. Don’t say that. You’re not--,” he cut himself off, unable to say the word himself. He felt the emotion choking at him, a metaphorical hand around his throat restricting air flow.

“Yes, I am.” The constant denial of what was really happening was weighing on you. You didn't want to pretend like everything was okay, that this was just a flu you needed to get over.

“I need you to understand, Dean.” You took in a shaky breath. “I need you to tell me that you know I'm dying.”

“I'm not sayin’ it because it's not happenin’.” Dean stood up, laptop resting on the couch cushion next to you. “You're not dying.” His voice shook on the last word.

You pulled your cardigan tighter around you, goosebumps chilling on your arms. As you lost weight from your treatments, you got colder.

“Dean--,” you began, but he already knew you were going to say a bunch of the same stuff. He shook his head, running a hand down his face.

“No. I'm not gonna listen to you talk like you're already dead. We can fix this. I can fix this.” Dean watched your face contort to anger, but he spoke before you could. “Cas can--,”

“Cas said he can't. You were there.” You cut him off, fumbling with the loose thread on your quilt.

The angel had been Dean's first call when the diagnosis came. It’d taken Castiel less than five seconds of his hand on your shoulder to know he couldn’t do anything. The masses had weaved themselves so deep into your body that even divine intervention couldn’t save it. Couldn’t save you.

“He can try again.” Dean almost growled, pacing in front of you. He was on the verge of a breakdown.

He hadn’t cried. He hadn’t screamed. He hadn’t done much of anything other than refuse to accept the situation.

He was teetering on a very thin tightrope that was about to snap from the weight of everything.

“No.”

Dean stumbled to a halt. He turned his head to you, a wild look in his eyes. You matched him, narrowing yours to him.

“I don’t want him to.”

It wasn’t that you wanted to die. You had just become less scared of it, more okay with the idea of a semi-peaceful death.

“You don’t want him to?” Dean seethed. You scoffed and looked away.

You hadn’t fought much before this whole thing, maybe a spat here and there, but never anything that hurt.

This? This was a war, one that had been brewing since the word cancer left the doctor’s mouth.

You’d seen something switch in Dean. He’d gone from that borderline-suicidal man you had met almost ten years ago to… whatever the hell he was now. Uncharacteristically optimistic, you had decided to name it.

But Dean Winchester could only look on the bright side for so long before he reverted back to that disbelief in anything good.

“What do you mean you don’t want him to?” Dean repeated your words again. He was looking at you like you had said something offensive, which, to be fair, it was offensive to him.

“I’m tired, Dean. Exhausted. Nothing is going to make this better. I just want to live the rest of my life peacefully, with love.” You argued back, fists clenching in anger. You were getting a migraine again, the same one that seemed to never go away, only crashing and retreating like the ocean.

Dean opened his mouth to talk, but squeezed his eyes shut and took in a breath instead.

“I love you. That’s why I’m doing this.” Dean tried to keep his voice steady, but as he spoke, the anger rushed in, taking hold and raising the volume of his words.

“I know you love me. And I love you. That’s why I’m doing this.” You rose to your feet, legs feeling slightly weak. You hadn’t eaten much that day, nausea crawling it’s way up your throat everytime you looked at the kitchen.

“And what is it that you think you’re doing?” Dean asked, jutting his head out in question, gesturing to you. “Do you think this is good, that this is healthy? Do you think it’s healthy to talk like you already have a death announcement posted?”

“Yes, Dean, I do. I really, truly do.” You spat at him, nodding your head. “You need to accept it. I’m dying,” Dean flinched at that goddamn “D” word, “and you need to understand that. I can’t be here to coddle you when it happens.”

“Shut up.” Dean was growling now, fire flaring in his green eyes. You winced, looking at him like he was batshit insane. He had never told you to shut up. He’d shushed you a few times, maybe asked you to be quiet, but never to shut up.

It slammed through the last of your strength to hold back. Your frustration, all of the fucking pain of the last few months, hell, even your grief for everything you would be missing out on unleashed into a monster you would be forced to regret later.

“No, Dean, you shut up!” You yelled, pointing a finger at him. “I have to listen to you talk like I have a future every fucking day, like you’re gonna magically fix everything and I’ll grow old and we’ll have a family. You talk like Baby Bear,” you hadn’t said that name since the day of your appointment, “is gonna be real. Well, newsflash: you can’t fix this. A goddamn angel of the Lord can’t heal me. What makes you think you, a human man, can do anything to stop this?” You had swayed a bit on your feet, the intense situation making you even more light headed than usual. You wanted to throw up, you needed to throw up, but instead you stood staring at Dean.

His eye twitched and you saw it, just for a split second, but it was still there. He wanted to fight back, he wanted to scream and yell and insult you. You watched a wall build back up. It was flimsy and you could have easily broken it back down, but he turned away before you could decide if you wanted to.

“I’m goin’ out.” Dean muttered tersely as he stomped to the garage, swiping up his keys from the little bowl you made him keep them in. The keychain you had bought for him after your fifth date swung down, the little rubber duck looking back at you with the same malice you had spotted on Dean’s face.

The door slammed at the same time you made a run for the bathroom, a mix of emotions flying out with the minimal contents of your stomach. You heaved over the porcelain of the toilet, an image you knew too well after so many trips to it.

You slumped against the wall as the water swirled down, carrying away any agitation you had felt.

You just wanted your husband, your Dean, here. He would help you get through your bouts of nausea, then tuck you into your favorite fuzzy throw blanket. He’d even begun to brush your teeth for you, moving the bristles about your mouth to wash away any sour taste while you fluttered your eyes shut.

You were still thinking about his gentle care when he came back home, boots slipping off before tip-toeing to the bedroom. You had to be asleep, he figured. It was late, maybe too late, but that would be a problem for morning-Dean.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw the bed empty, sinking when he heard the retching in the room over.

He rushed to the bathroom, flipping on the light to show you, bent over. Tears streamed down your face, giving your pretty eyes a tinge of red that Dean noticed when you looked up at him.

He sank to his knees, pulling you into his arms once your body relaxed. You were wearing the same clothes from earlier, meaning you hadn’t even tried to go to bed. Had you been here the whole time, through all the hours he had spent crashing through the nearby woods like the monsters he used to hunt?

“I’m sorry.” He whispered into your hair, rocking you. You curled into him, body shaking with soft cries.

You cried for the way your body rejected everything. You cried for the words he had said. You cried for the words you had said. You cried for the future you would never have.

“I’m so sorry, honey. I love you.”

Those had also been the last words he’d said to you as you drifted off into a sleep you would never wake from. You were in a hospital bed stationed in your home, surrounded by your favorite flowers.

Dean had walked out of the room after your final breath, placing a shaky kiss on your forehead. His tears had fallen to your face and he brushed those away like he used to brush your hair away.

Everyone was there. Your family and his own, makeshift version of a family. He had swallowed down a sob, not wanting to break in front of a crowd. That resolve had crumbled when Jody had wrapped her arms around him.

He’d soaked her shirt, knees nearly buckling underneath him as he tried to think of what life would be like without you. He couldn’t even imagine it.

There was no life without you.

The next few weeks he hadn’t remembered. He didn’t dare to go back to the house. He stayed with Jody, taking up residence in her last remaining guest room after your funeral. He only left the room to go to the bar, only left the bar to cry in the Impala.

It was torture.

Everything was.

It wasn’t until he had decided enough was enough, he would go back home, that he moved onto the next stage of grief: anger.

He thought he had been familiar with the emotion, but whatever he had felt before was nothing compared to what surged through him when he saw that book.

There had been a package on the front steps, raindrops sliding down the plastic of the envelope. He’d picked it up with curiosity. He didn’t remember ordering anything.

He ripped through the covering to reveal a trio of bears, two big, one little. Baby Bear’s Family stood out in thick letters.

His blood ran cold.

Dean must have blacked out, because the next thing he remembered was the ringing of his phone. All around him was a mess; table flipped over, dishes shattered, splintered wood on the hinges of what was once a cupboard door.

In the middle of it all was him, panting and crying, and the book, untouched by his destruction.

Dean scrambled to the phone, hoping, despite knowing better, that it would be you.

Sammy

The caller ID broke his heart further, but he answered. He couldn’t ignore his little brother forever.

“Dean,” Sam breathed out, like he had been in a fight just moments prior, “we need you.”

If he’d known what exactly they needed help with, he would have hung up and rotted away in a pile of your clothing.

Instead, he now found himself sitting in the bunker, a place you had found homey but in a dungeon kind of way, across from this newborn twenty-something kid that wouldn’t shut the hell up. He found a fascination in everything, from the salt shakers to the water that flowed from the sink.

You would have loved Jack.

The thought made Dean shoot up and stomp to his room, cutting off Jack’s ramble about what kind of lightbulbs he preferred.

The boy frowned, looking down at the glass of whiskey Dean had left behind.

“I don’t know why he hates me.” Jack breathed out, heart aching. He didn’t like this emotion. He just wanted Dean to love him as the others did.

“He doesn’t hate you, he hates himself.” Sam sighed, tapping a finger against the glass of his own glass.

“Sam--,” Castiel started, but Sam shook his head, cutting the angel off.

“He needs to know, Cas. I can’t keep ignoring her.” Sam argued back, but his voice softened. “She was my family, too.”

So, Sam told Jack all about you. He left nothing out. The flour-kisses you had given to Dean during your baking phase. The way you always made sure to adjust Castiel’s tie if it was even slightly off-center. The piles of books you would bring to Sam whenever he would visit you and Dean.

He told Jack about Baby Bear and the way you had tried to get Sam to download dating apps during your frequent phone calls. Your love for flowers and the color blue and the ugly fish everyone always made fun of.

Jack couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he had decided to do it, but an idea had popped into his head during Sam’s sad laughter.

He found himself standing in a white hallway, identical doors lining the walls. On a plaque read your first name followed by Winchester. He was sure this was yours.

Pushing it open, he instantly felt warm.

The smell of cookies, ones he could tell would be the best he’d ever have without even tasting them, filled the air.

A pretty woman stood by a counter, cradling her swollen stomach and humming. Pictures of her and Dean lined the walls of the house your heaven was in.

He knew it without seeing a picture: this woman was you.

Jack called your name, startling you. You scanned his face, a frown on your face. He wasn’t a threat, but you hadn’t been expecting visitors.

“Who are you?” You asked, a hand shielding your stomach as best as possible.

“You’re her. You’re Dean’s honey.” Jack nodded his head while he spoke, making sure to use the pet name Sam had told him Dean would call you. “And that’s Baby Bear.” He pointed to your stomach.

You felt a rush of warmth at your baby’s name. You hadn’t picked a real one yet, but you had time. You had nothing but time.

“How do you know that?”

“I’m Jack.” He waved, giving you that gap-toothed smile everyone but Dean found adorable. You smiled warmly at him, confusion still lacing your expression.

“Do you want a cookie?” You offered, gesturing to the worn table, the same table Dean had destroyed.

Jack filled you in on everything, a flash of painful memories hitting you with every word about your death. He explained that you were in Heaven and that he was here to bring you back.

You had ached to see Dean again. You tried to think back on whether or not he had been here, in your heaven, but something was blocking you from it. It didn’t make sense: if this was Heaven, why weren’t you completely happy?

You weren’t in pain, you didn’t feel sadness, or anger, or anything. You only felt content.

It was Dean.

He wasn’t here. He was your heaven as much as you were his.

You agreed to go back to earth, ignoring the fact that it would mean Baby Bear would be gone, that this perfect life would go away. Scratch that, it wasn’t perfect. It couldn’t be, not without Dean.

You saw a flash of white and suddenly you were standing in a grassy outlook of a town. Not any town. Lebanon, Kansas.

You frowned and turned to Jack, but the nephilim only beamed at you.

Behind you, the Impala -- Dean’s Impala -- was parked. You caught a glimpse of dirty blond hair over the top of the car.

“Dean.” You whispered, not wanting to spook him.

Dean heard it. He always heard every noise you made, even if he was across the house.

He shrugged it off, taking a swig from his flask and letting the whiskey burn away the heartache.

“Dean.” You said again, a little louder.

He couldn’t shrug this off. That was definitely your voice.

Dean’s hunting instincts, the ones that had been engraved into him since he was a kid, forced him to his feet, hand flying to the knife on his side. He spun around, searching for you, or whatever thing was pretending to be you.

He choked on a breath when his eyes landed on you. You looked heavenly. You didn’t look how you had on your deathbed. In fact, you looked even younger than you had at the appointment where the doctor gave you your diagnosis.

It was as if your aura, the one Dean could never see but knew was warm and lovely, was glowing around you, cascading down the dress you wore. That dress. It was the same one you’d worn when he’d asked you to marry him.

He remembered that day, getting down on one knee in the middle of the garden you loved so much. It had been sunny, as it was now, and Dean swore the sun shone around your head like a halo. He’d suspected it before, but he knew it at that moment: you were his guardian angel.

You were the only thing that could save him.

There you were, standing a few feet from him, here to save him.

Save him from the grief. From the anger. From himself.

His hands flew open, the knife and flask clattering to the ground. He didn’t care that his whiskey, the good whiskey that he’d spent far too much money on, was flowing into the grass. The only thing that mattered was you.

Dean stumbled to you, but you met him halfway, crashing into him. He wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your hair. You smelled the same. His favorite scent, the one he would never forget.

A little piece of him was screaming that this wasn’t real, you were a shapeshifter or a revenant or a demon or a million other things.

The part of him that had beaten down his happiness every day fought back. If he was killed by holding you one last time, that was okay with him. Life wasn’t much without you anyway.

Your bodies shook out sobs in sync. You couldn’t remember how long you’d been dead for, the days shifting into one perfect event of cookie baking.

But Dean?

Dean had it down to the minute. One year, three days, and twenty-two minutes -- twenty-three now. Each second had been worse than the last, leading up to this moment.

He didn’t let you go.

He was afraid if he even loosened his grip, you would dissipate into a mist, leaving him with nothing all over again.

“I missed you.” You shook out, brushing your thumb over the nape of his neck just like you had done every night before falling asleep. Dean heaved out a sound, like he couldn’t even speak.

He focused on you to calm him down.

Your hair, your skin, your warmth. It grounded him, and he twisted his fingers into the fabric of your dress.

“How?” He asked, a simple breath of air forming into one word. You knew what he meant. It reminded you of the fact that Jack was still standing behind you.

“Jack.” You mumbled, pulling your Dean in closer.

Dean’s eyes shot open and, through wet eyelashes, he saw the same boy he had resented for so long. Jack smiled at him, that innocent, little kid kind that told Dean all he needed to know.

Jack had done this for him.

He’d somehow found a way to harness all of his power to bring you back, just to make Dean happy.

Just to make him like him.

Dean would talk to him later. He would find the words to explain his gratitude, explain what this was.

Now, he let his ears catch on your heartbeat, focusing on the steady thumping reminding him that you were alive.

“You’re my heaven, Dean.”

everything taglist : @littlesoulshine @sacr1ficialang3l @blossomingorchids @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @mostlymarvelgirl

jensen ackles taglist : @arcannaa

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #taylor swift #soon you’ll get better

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onaswife · 1 month ago

Text

A new member

Couple: Alpha! Mapi León x Alpha! Ingrid Engen x Omega! reader

Au! Omegaverse, Alpha x Omega

Word count: 3,9k

Warning: SMUT, +18, TRIO.

The roar of the crowd in the stadium was deafening. You were focused on the game, your muscles tense with the adrenaline coursing through your body. It was a tough game, the opponent was pressing hard, and Barça needed that win. If it weren't for the recent loss, perhaps no one on the team would be so tense and upset when a ball crossed the halfway line, but those were things that couldn't be changed.

From the defensive line, you felt Mapi give you a quick glance. Ingrid was also alert, as if she sensed something wasn't right. You'd been feeling strange lately, with constant fatigue and sporadic dizziness, sometimes even morning sickness or when you smelled strong odors, which was strange. Although you always feel nauseous when smelling strong, these times felt strange, as if something was really happening inside you. But you were strong. You had always been strong.

Until you couldn't be anymore.

The world suddenly spun, the voices around you becoming a distant echo and small, droning murmurs, the ground seeming to approach too quickly. Your vision blurred, and before you could react, your body collapsed onto the grass.

Suddenly, the world around you began to spin. The crowd, the stadium, your teammates—everything went blurry. You felt your legs weaken and you were falling. Mapi and Ingrid looked at you with concern, but couldn't react in time.

You fell to the ground, feeling a sharp blow to your head. The crowd suddenly fell silent, and only the awkward silence could be heard. Mapi and Ingrid knelt beside you, holding your head and speaking to you in low voices.

"Y/N? Y/N, can you hear me?" Mapi asked, her voice filled with concern.

Ingrid checked your pulse, her face tense. "Call the medics," she shouted to the other players.

The scene blurred, with people moving around you and talking loudly. But you could only think about one thing: what was happening to your body?

“Y/N!” Mapi’s voice cracked with concern.

“Shit, baby, talk to us,” Ingrid crouched down next to her.

The game stopped immediately, and the Barcelona players swarmed around her as medics rushed onto the field. Mapi held her face in both hands, her thumb gently stroking her cheek. Ingrid held her hand tightly, feeling like if she let go, you might disappear.

“I’m okay now…” Y/N whispered, her voice faint. But then, darkness enveloped her.

Something was wrong with her.

The thought struck you suddenly, like a flash of light in the darkness. You could be… pregnant. The possibility sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn't be sure, but something inside you told you it was possible.

As soon as you woke up, Mapi and Ingrid helped you sit up slowly, without forcing you, and held you while you recovered. The team doctor approached and quickly examined you.

"What happened?" the doctor asked.

"I don't know," you replied, still trying to catch your breath. "I felt dizzy and fell."

The doctor nodded and took your pulse. "Let's take you to the locker room for a closer examination." Mapi and Ingrid offered to accompany you, but the doctor declined, and neither did the coach. Both were crucial parts of the team and their continued dominance in the game. As they wheeled you into the locker room, you couldn't stop thinking about the possibility of being pregnant. What would it mean for you and your alphas? How would it affect your career as a soccer player?

You arrived at the locker room and sat down on a stretcher. The doctor asked you to lie down and examined you completely. They would need to find out why you fainted, as well as evaluate a possible concussion from when you fell and hit your head. After a moment, he stopped and looked at you with a serious expression.

"Y/n, Ingrid told me before we left the field that you've been experiencing certain symptoms… Nausea, dizziness, headaches, you get tired more quickly," the doctor said. "I think the best thing we could do to rule out pregnancy is for you to take a test."

The room fell silent. You looked anywhere but at the doctor, feeling your hands sweat. What if it came back positive? What would Mapi and Ingrid say? Would they be happy?

"If you feel unsafe or scared, the team is by your side… there's always the option of an abortion."

You felt nerves running through your body, but you had to get over your doubts. What if it wasn't a pregnancy? Maybe it could be a very serious illness. “Yes, I will. I want to be sure… just… don't tell Ingrid or Mapi.”

The doctor gave you the go-ahead, so you slowly got up from the table, feeling your legs tremble as your mind raced over what was going to happen. Anxiety was eating away at you. The doctor said he'd run two tests to be sure, and he'd clear you.

After taking your blood and leaving you alone to go to the bathroom, you were able to think clearly. Maria would give her life for you if necessary, and Ingrid was willing to lower every star in existence to make you happy. You knew they wouldn't react badly; they might be quite surprised, but they would support your decision no matter what.

You returned to your place on the table after giving the test to the doctor, fiddling with your hands.

"God, finally!" Mapi exclaimed, crossing the room in two strides. Ingrid was right behind her, her normally calm face showing an unusual anxiety. They both leaned over the table, each taking one of your hands.

"You scared us, darling," Ingrid whispered, kissing your forehead and then beginning to stroke your hair with her characteristic affection. "What happened…?" Maria asked, her voice hoarse.

“Everything’s fine, it was a mild concussion. I’ll have to rest,” you explained, their eyes shining with concern.

Before you could say anything else, the doctor walked in with a neutral expression, holding some papers.

“Well, I have some news for you,” the doctor said, looking at you. Mapi and Ingrid immediately tensed. Y/N gulped.

“Would you prefer we talk about this in private?”

The doctor smiled slightly.

“Could you… wait outside for me, please?” You looked at them with doe-eyed eyes, hoping they wouldn’t worry too much. “It’s just… I need to discuss things with him.”

Silence.

The Alphas blinked in confusion. Once. Twice.

“What?” her voice was barely above a whisper.

“You’re approximately eight weeks pregnant,” the doctor confirmed, a small, soft smile spreading across his face. You went into a state of shock at what he said. A pregnancy. But not just any pregnancy. Your pregnancy.

Your eyes filled with tears before you could stop them.

“A baby? My baby?” you whispered, as if the word were sacred.

“That's right, congratulations, Mommy… although, if you're not sure you want to keep it, we can talk about a solution.”

“No, I do want to keep it.” You gave her a moist look, your eyes watering at the news you'd just received. You felt like you could explode from the happiness that was eating you up at that moment. The doctor gave you instructions on how you could best manage the pregnancy given your profession, while you listened attentively. You were going to take care of that little being still growing inside you as if your life depended on it.

You left the office, walking slowly, still feeling your head spin from the blow you'd taken, but it wasn't that severe. Mapi and Ingrid were waiting for you, both anxious as they leaned against the wall facing the medical room. “Is everything okay? Why did we have to leave? Is it because you're dying from that blow to the head? If so, I'm going to smash the face of whoever threw and injured you.” Mapi began speaking quickly, almost as if she were rapping an Eminem song, while Ingrid approached and placed her hands on your shoulders, analyzing your face to see what was wrong.

“Yes, Maria, everything's fine. I just needed to talk to the doctor about something… You know, Omega stuff, and no, you don't need to go hit someone.” You brought your hand to Mapi's right cheek, where you placed a light, affectionate caress.

After that rare exchange (on Ingrid and Maria's part), they continued with their post-game routine. They showered, put away all their things, and after saying goodbye to the others, they headed to the car. Y/N walked between the two alphas, surrounded by their scents. The walk home was peaceful. They were singing and talking about the game after you left the field. Despite everything that had happened, the three of them were walking home quite happy.

Just then, Y/N felt her phone vibrate with a message. It was from Ona. "Have you told them about your pregnancy yet? Because, girl, Jana and I have already noticed a change in your scent, and it's not because of your mark." After reading her message, you started thinking about how you would tell your Alphas. Maybe at dinner, or when they went to bed, maybe tomorrow at practice, or maybe you wouldn't tell them with words, but rather a gift that would show the positive test.

You were so focused on how to tell them that you didn't hear Ingrid speaking to you. When you looked up and looked in the rearview mirror, you saw Mapi and Ingrid looking worried.

"Sorry, they were saying, Ona was asking me something." A deeply apologetic smile crossed your face.

“What do you want for dinner today, honey?” Ingrid turned around in her seat to look at you directly.

“Anything’s fine, Love, I’m really hungry.”

The Alphas exchanged a quick glance; they both knew something was up with their Omega, but they would wait for her to tell them.

When they got home, the three of them got out with their things, walking a little tired. They walked slowly to the elevator while talking about what they could make for dinner. Y/N was only thinking about getting there to lie down next to Bagheera and get some relief from her headache. Mapi opened the apartment door, letting the Omega in first, who entered slowly.

"Bagheera, baby," you entered, looking for your feline daughter. "It's impressive how she seems to love Bagheera more than us," Mapi said with feigned pain, watching the cat jump into the arms of her Italian girlfriend.

"You have to accept it, sweetheart, Bagheera has more of a heart than we do."

They both entered, greeted Bagheera, and placed a kiss on the head of the guard and the Omega, grabbing Y/N's bag to go put the dirty clothes in the washing machine and organize the other things they had brought. "Stay on the couch, honey. We'll take care of you. We don't want anything to happen to you." Maria placed a kiss on your lips after giving you that order.

You walked to the couch, where you sat down and settled in with Bagheera on your chest, taking advantage of the warm moment with her. You were still thinking about how to tell your girlfriends the news, but you couldn't help it. She stayed there while the Alphas took care of her.

When the food was ready, Ingrid found you on the couch, sitting next to your hip, where she placed her hand on your abdomen, leaving small caresses. "Come on, Kjære, the food is waiting for you." She leaned in and placed a small kiss on your lips. Your hormones had been on a roller coaster lately, which is why there were times when the mere touch of one of your alphas would set you off like a fire. You tugged at the back of Ingrid's neck, pulling her closer to your body. The kiss was pure lust and passion, teeth and tongue in the midst of the kiss as you brought your hands to her hair, tugging at it, hoping it would help her take you and claim you.

Ingrid slowly broke away from the kiss, placing a small kiss on each of your cheeks. "Let's eat, honey. I don't know if it's a good idea to have sex after a concussion." A frustrated moan left your throat. Your pussy felt damp and wet, waiting for one of your Alphas' cocks, which never came.

You stood up, hugging the Norwegian girl from behind, while complaining. You sat down at the table while complaining to María about what Ingrid had done. The three of you continued eating, laughing and joking.

"I'm expecting a baby. I mean, I'm pregnant… like, eight weeks pregnant, your baby." Your voice was thick with nerves as you began to tell her the news. As soon as you finished speaking, your voice trembled with fear of your girlfriends' reaction. You knew they wouldn't take it the wrong way, but even so, you felt an irrational fear. Mapi ran a hand through her hair, her jaw tensing before a shaky smile formed on her face.

“Are we going to be…?”

Y/N nodded, her chest tight with excitement.

“We’re going to be moms.”

Mapi let out a strangled sound, a laugh mixed with a sob as she hugged her tightly. Ingrid joined in, kissing your hair tenderly.

“We love you,” Mapi whispered.

“So much,” Ingrid added.

Y/N bridled, feeling her heart overflow with love.

“I love you too.”

Mapi and Ingrid spoiled you completely, showering you with kisses, caresses, and sweet whispers. They made you feel adored, protected, and loved every moment.

After eating amidst small cries of excitement over the next new member of their little family, the three of them sat on the couch, Y/N sandwiched between the two Alphas, engulfed in their scents. You loved it when they did that, you liked it when you felt like they were possessive of you, and well, in your current state, that was reflected in how horny you started to get.

You grabbed Maria's right hand and brought it to your thigh, where she placed a light squeeze there. Ingrid, for her part, was eager to kiss you. You brought one of your free hands to Ingrid's cock, beginning to caress it and leave small squeezes.

You wanted to feel them; your hormones were going crazy.

"I don't understand how we didn't realize you were pregnant…" Ingrid spoke from her position on your neck, leaving small bites. "The change in your scent is so obvious… There's a hint of milky scent…" Maria let out a moan when she felt your wetness. “I think we missed it.”

Maria moved her hand to your waist, where with a light squeeze, you knew what she wanted. You quickly changed position, placing yourself on her thighs, where you began to make circular movements on her cock, moaning at the sensation. All you could think about was being able to feel them fucking you.

“Please, Maria… Ingrid… I need you.” Ingrid had stood behind you. She brought her hand to your neck, closed her hand over your throat, and made you look up, looking straight into her eyes. “What do you need, baby? You know we like it when you talk.” You felt your senses clouded with pleasure, her touch feeling more powerful. Normally, it always took you longer to ask for what you wanted, but today you were truly needy.

“I want to feel them, please, I need your cocks."

Maria had a firm grip on your hips, helping you move better on top of her. When she looked over your shoulder and saw the other Alpha's eyes, she stopped moving.

"Come here, kjære." Ingrid lowered her hands to the hem of your shirt, helping you pull it over your head. She helped you stand, and as soon as you stood up, you turned around to face her. You felt Maria's hands run over your body, first on your back, where she helped unclasp your bra, then slowly descended to the waistband of your pants (which were actually Ingrid's). She slowly pulled them down along with your underwear. When you looked down at where your clothes were bunching up, you saw Ingrid begin to pull down her own pants.

After Ingrid was naked, she gently pushed you by the shoulders, making you sit with your back to Maria. Before you sat down, Mapi aligned his cock at your entrance.

As soon as she entered, you felt a strange release, a very pleasant sensation of warmth running through your body. Feeling your girlfriend's big cock stretching your pussy was the best feeling. You began to moan, gradually getting louder. Ingrid, for her part, placed her hand on Y/N's neck, causing her to look up. "Will you be our good girl, baby?"

You nodded quickly, trying to find your own voice. "The words, Love, otherwise, I'll tell Maria to stop." You automatically felt Maria stop moving.

"Please… I need them. I'll be your good girl, just please." Your eyes felt wet with the tears that threatened to fall. As soon as Ingrid heard what you said, she nodded at Maria, who, upon hearing your affirmative, began to move again with her usual swaying motion. Ingrid, for her part, made you lean forward, placing your hands on Maria's knees. Maria was already moaning, her head resting on the couch, her gaze rising toward the ceiling of the apartment. Ingrid squeezed your cheeks, causing you to automatically open your mouth.

You looked up, watching your Norwegian girlfriend's green eyes darken with lust and pleasure. "Will you let me have your little mouth, kjære?"

You quickly nodded. "Yes, love, please."

First, she brought her fingers to your mouth, where she began to make you suck them. After a few minutes of this, she moved one of her hands to her cock and guided it to your mouth. Meanwhile, you moaned because Maria had started moving faster. The sound of your ass hitting her thighs was almost the only thing heard in the room, apart from your moans, which led to the moans of the two alphas. Slowly, Ingrid began to move her hips, always respecting your comfort. As soon as you could move more freely, you brought one hand to the base of Ingrid's cock, where you began to move it up and down, making her feel even more pleasure.

You felt tears fall from your eyes from the pleasure of having the Spanish woman constantly burying herself in your pussy and the Norwegian woman's cock in your mouth.

You stopped for a moment to catch your breath as Maria buried herself deeper. You lowered your head. "God, Maria… Keep going like that." You brought your hand back to Ingrid's cock and began to masturbate it in front of your face, while you rode Maria.

"Yes… yes there… Mhh." Moans and gasps left your lips in an almost pornographic way, but the heat of the moment was overwhelming. You were getting closer and closer, feeling that characteristic tug in your belly, getting closer and closer to orgasm. Ingrid made you look at her again, taking her cock to your mouth again.

“God, baby… yes, do it on my cock.” María rested her forehead on your back as she dug her fingers into your waist, where you knew they would leave marks.

The pleasure continued to build, closer and closer, until you couldn't help it. It was simply feeling Mapi bury herself in your pussy, her hands squeezing your waist, feeling Ingrid's cock deep in your mouth, and hearing the sounds that filled the room, moans and wet sounds of their bodies. It was at that moment that you felt it, that familiar, pleasant sensation.

It ran through your body like a shock of electricity.

As soon as the moment passed, you brought your hand back to Ingrid's cock, wrapping your mouth around it, waiting to feel it fill your mouth. María simply stayed buried in your pussy, where it formed a knot after having filled you with her semen. “You look so pretty with my cock buried inside you and Ingrid’s cock occupying your little mouth.” Mapi leaned closer to your ear, her hands snaking down your body, one resting on your breast and the other moving down to your clitoris. Ingrid moved her hand to the back of your neck, tugging at your hair. You knew she was close; you could see it in the way her abdomen tensed more often.

In less than two minutes, you felt the thick, hot liquid fill your mouth, so you slowly pulled it out.

As soon as Maria saw Ingrid leave your mouth, she led you into a heated kiss.

“We should go rest… Cairño needs to take a shower… I'll go get everything ready.”

She placed a small kiss on your forehead, while her thumb wiped the corner of your lips.

“I love you, baby. Thanks for making us so happy.” Maria began trailing kisses down my neck, hugging me tightly.

And there, in the midst of the moment you'd just had with your girlfriends, you knew you'd chosen the right alphas with whom you wanted to start a family.

Here's what I promised. It hasn't been reviewed yet. I'll do it as soon as I have time. Thanks for reading. bon dia, bona tarda o bona nit <3

#woso x reader #barca femeni #woso omegaverse #mapi leon x reader #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen x mapi leon x reader

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lustlovehart · 9 months ago

Text

Prologue Chapter, Beginnings

A/n: Non of the main cast are in this piece, this is just the prologue before the real writing starts buuut they are mentioned if that counts?

Pairing: Monster!Twst x Reader, Ft. Rollo Flamme & Crowley (Voice only).

Summary: Getting rid of things that go bump in the night has always been your job, yet, when the time comes to finally kill them, you can’t bring yourself to do it. Such mistakes, will return their grievances in full, and you’re now made to pay the price of letting monsters continue to live their wretched lives.

Warnings: Bruising, and like maybeeee hints of posseviness?? That’s it though.

Hands, dozens, are maybe more? So many words are being whispered into your ear as each finger practically possesses your body with a desperation akin to hunger.

A snake wraps around your arm, a gargoyle looks down at you, and heat encased your body until it practically swallows you, yet it feels like you're drowning at the same time when sand pours on you. You don’t know what any of it is signaling to you, you’re not even sure if you wish to understand.

“Off with their head!” “Let the tall grass swallow you.” “The deep isn’t so scary when you know what’s in it.” “Wishes are deceiving.” “Reach your full potential here” “… These joints, I can’t stop.” “Is it so bad to sleep in this castle with us?”

These voices sound scarily familiar. Yet, you don’t recall any of their voices despite feeling like you know them on some basis. You don’t move, even when one hand intertwines with your own as if you were a prize to be won, a want or need they must have.

A feint mantra of your name reaches out to you in your dream, a savior from this purgatory. But… there’s something wrong, their attempt to save you, is shrouded in danger. Even when their hand reaches to break you out, the under lying feeling of dread spreads through your body.

Whoever is saving you, is hiding something from you—

“[Name].” Your figure is quick to jump awake, your eyes immediately going blind from the morning sun shining through your windows. When you turn, you’re immediately met with Rollo at your bedside, a cup of tea and warm food in his palm. “Did you plan to sleep in?” It’s typical for him to invite himself into your home, it’s not like you’re opposed anyhow, he feeds you for free, and even cleans your house. When you told him why you don’t feel worry when he enters your abode, he compared you to a wild raccoon. “With your job, you should be more… precise…” his eyes had trailed down from your face to your arm.

His hand slowly gravitates towards you, ringed finger slowly tracing above your skin before grabbing onto you. If you were fully awake, you would’ve questioned why such a small action… was so sensual.

Alas, you’re still tired.

“Pray tell,” lifting the appendage into view, he reveals what it was that caught his attention, “How did you get… These?” Dark bruises have flourished into your skin. “I hope you didn’t lie about going to sleep early.”

“Wha…? I didn’t, I swear. I don’t know what these are…” he eyes you with suspicion before deciding against interrogation. Though that’s always the case, he has a habit of letting go of whatever you say or do with only a slap on the wrist.

“Well, I hope, it doesn’t matter. You’re going to have a very eventful couple of months, Crowley is sending us off for work again,” he takes a seat next to your bedside, patting your lap down to flatten your blanket before setting a tray down with your breakfast. “He says you’re going to those places. ” Before you even have the chance to drink, you’re already putting down the tea, looking back at him in utter confusion.

“… Hah?”

If he’s being truthful, which, he always is, unfortunately, those areas are notorious amongst people of your occupation, said to have the most violent of fiends.

And… Crowley is sending… you??

“I argued with him not to let you go. Jack was very adamant about not letting that happen either. In fact… He seemed more determined than me. Which is a cause for concern.”

“That is concerning… I only have room for one overbearing partner.” His face goes sour at your poorly placed joke, like some miscreant he’s met on the street, rather than one of the few people he doesn’t mind talking to. His expression quickly softens once more when he remembers who it is that said the joke, you “Sorry…”

“The point is, You’re going there, alone.” He emphasizes the word heavily, as if he really needed to remind you just how dire your situation is.

Alone. The words echo through your room like an unspoken curse, condemned to feed your suffrage. If you’re going to be alone, there’s no doubt you’ll go mad from solitude, void of communication for months.

In your state of conflict, a sharp pang is felt in your neck, as if a blade had gone through your skin and cut off all feeling from your body. A sense of foreboding makes your worry only increase.

“Eat now before you leave.” The feeling is gone as quickly as it came. You look back to Rollo, you wonder why Rollo goes out of his way to do what he does for you. He’s a nice distraction from the dreams that cling to your consciousness.

So is Jack… he's kind to you too.

He was stationed in Sunset Savana if you’re correct. Maybe you’ll see him again when you travel to the second location…

You’re pulled out of your trance when the warm feeling of tea dripping down the corner of your mouth is felt, Rollo, being the culprit as he forces you to drink the beverage. “I said eat now.”

You would’ve pinched him if it weren’t for how tired you were, all is forgiven when he wipes the drink from your jaw with that prized handkerchief of his.

The rocky terrain of the floor annoys you to no end, with each step you take a small pebble flies off somewhere to the side. Considering Crowley instructed you to be stealthy, you probably shouldn’t be flinging things around. You don’t care though, you keep doing it the thought of Crowley might’ve increased how much force you put into your kicks.

“Rules must be followed, I don’t appreciate those who don’t obey.”

A chill goes down your spine. Those words are so familiar, but you can’t place where you’ve heard them before…

Before you can keep dwelling on the disembodied memory, you’re suddenly struck by the unfortunate reminder of Crowley, and 7 high-class missions.

7 missions he’s barely compensating you for.

“Greedy bird…” Honestly, you only accept the transfer under Crowley because of Crewel. Your former boss may have been strict, but at least he paid you well and made you somewhat okay with your job. The thought makes you reminisce of simpler times before the sound of a crow echoes through the sky, and a scroll drops on the path in front of you.

You recognize it, it’s a special communicator used among hunters, it’s a bit outdated, but Crowley is insistent on using it. You kneel bunching the paper in your hand, unraveling the parchment.

It’s Crowley. You toss it away. The paper comes back to your feet, freakishly bouncing on the dirt. He’s calling again, and you throw the paper away again. He won’t stop coming back.

“Leave me alone” He’s your boss, you don’t exactly treat him like one though. Knowing the lack of people in the job field, you not dying on the first week of work is rare, making you an asset he can’t just throw away, so in revenge for every act of greed he commits, you return him the attitude of a snarky employee.

Along with that, you’re still spiteful that he made you do this alone rather than with someone like Rollo or Jack.

“Wait! Wait! Don’t hang up! After all my generosity you continue to disregard me, your own boss no less–!”

The sound of paper beginning to tear immediately sets the sheet to panic mode, aggressively shaking to avoid being ripped to shreds.

“Stop, Stop! I have something to tell you about your job, so don’t you dare, little one!” Chances are, he can sense your disappointment on the other side of the line, the both of you simultaneously sighing before he continues the rest of his talk. “Those seven locations, you don’t have to kill them, running them out of the area is all you’re required to do” You pause for a moment, moving off your intended path into a forest. Your connection gets a little choppy, but if it means you don’t have to listen to him anymore, it might be worth it.

“Run them out only? Are you sure that’s all I have to do, don’t we usually kill them?”

“Yes typically but, it seems our dear commissioners only asked to be rid of them, now why would we hunt them when we’re not being paid? That would just be a waste of time.” Your side is completely silent after his statement, concerned hellos beginning to leave Crowley's side of the paper.

“… So you’re stingy.”

“Not stingy! But, we are a business.” You leave him at that, not wanting to draw out an already lengthy conversation. “So, are you ready for your next assignment, little birdie?”

“Unlike you, I’m not cheap so,” snickers are heard from your boss, instead of a retort to such a blow, all he says is a smug “oh?” before the rest of your words spill. “I’ll really get rid of them. For the people.”

You had intended to waste time before heading to your first job, but luck isn’t on your side, as it turns out your off-course path was an accidental shortcut.

Crowley isn’t talking anymore, you must’ve lost connection. You quickly tear the paper in sweet relief… that’s short-lived. Your eyes are magnetized to the sign in front of the eroded building.

“Heartslaybul Hospital” a tinier sign in the corner with sloppy handwriting, which you can only assume to be from a child reads, “For wonderful and rule-abiding patients only!”

You take one glance back at where you came from, your last chance to truly walk away, before heading inside.

When you look back at it after finishing all 7 locations, you truly should’ve just run them out. For once, you wish you had listened to Crowley, maybe doing that, or maybe even sacrificing your pride would’ve worked, turning around and leaving the hospital might’ve been the optimal solution.

It would’ve saved you from your current predicament.

Trapped in a room filled with monstrosities that can no longer bear to let you go.

A/n: Heartslaybul chapter (hopefully) coming very soon *Insert emoji deviously rubbing hands together*. Originally, this Au was meant to be specifically Yandere, but the more I wrote, the more I realized, These monster counterparts, are well, monsters, so I decided, it’s entirely up to you whether or not you want to view it as Yandere or not. With that said, they will still be possessive in some right, so let that help you determine your choice.

#vesperwrites #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yan twst #twst x yuu #twisted wonderland x yuu #monster!twst

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tangyneon · 1 month ago

Text

too busy being yours

Gojo has no need for the sun to break through the dark clouds of rain, when you're standing in front of him, frowning so sweetly at him.

There's nothing brighter than you in his eyes—be they Six, or be they just two—in any case.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader tags: teen!gojo; fluffy and not-too-mildly sappy; lovesick gojo; realisation of feelings; gojo loves you while you tolerate him; he's somewhat obsessed with you but not in a toxic way—yet; very heavy on the 'one-sided enemies to lovers' vibes; word count–2487. warnings: implied bullying—gojo isn't involved!! but that doesn't mean he isn't a warning—the boy very much is, along with his extreme want to be your knight in shining armour and beat the bad guys up. this is a sequel of sorts to 'it was over from the start', but please feel free to treat it as a stand-alone if you wanna!! notes: not me rewriting and reposting one of my most popular works from my old blog—ONCE MORE!!!! the fic title is from "Do I Wanna Know?" by Arctic Monkeys. hope you'll enjoy reading this!! ❤️❤️

Gojo believes, there exist two kinds of people.

One: those who aren't but love to pretend being better than everyone else. And, two: those who aren't, but will do anything to be viewed as the worst in the world—the latter category housing no one but you—

Tingles dancing behind his ribs, down his arms, and right to the tips of his fingers, the boy hums when questioned why he wants to meet you out of all the people he could. That too now, when the sky is darkening from a mix of night and storm. That too—to meet you.

Candy crushed between molars, Gojo grins.

"Let's just say I'm a little curious about her, shall we?"

Then pauses, grin mellowing when he finally feels your cursed energy—if his Six Eyes were working as usual now and weren't fatigued after today's spree of killing curses, maybe he could have determined your location too in a moment or so, and not have had to rely on others for that...

The blinding beacon, which your cursed signature is, brushes soothingly against his exhausted self—he adds, "Also maybe because I'm a little in love with her—she's really sweet, y'know?"

Whatever response he might have been expecting, a scoff is definitely not one of them.

Utahime makes a face. Almost as if she just bit into a lemon... Almost as if she doesn't believe Gojo can fall in love... Almost as if she deems you to be not sweet... That last implication nearly makes him want to throw hands with the girl, opting to ignore the fact that she's Shoko's girlfriend—

But he stops when she jabs a thumb to the corridor to the left.

Your cursed energy caresses his Six Eyes gently. Something burns behind his two eyes. The boy begs his mind to listen to the directions being given to him—the directions to you!!

"Go down this hallway, then turn right at the end. She'll still be in the gardens—" The rest of the sentence doesn't reach Gojo.

Nor does anything else, for that matter.

Nothing does—except for the steady thump! thump! thump! against his ribs and in his ears. And, of course—how did he even forget this—the lodestar your brilliance is to his too impatient self, too stumbling feet, this squally evening as he skids past empty hallways...

Your smile is the first thing the boy notices.

So sweet. So sweet.

It's the sweetest thing Gojo reckons to have ever seen in his life. The pretty little smile carving your lips and illuminating your equally lovely face, as you lie on your stomach on the grass. Legs swaying with the wind. Gaze dancing over the fluttering pages—

Everything changes in a beat—or perhaps even less than that—with your eyes no longer on the book.

They're on him. Drowning him. Suffocating him. Squeezing whatever infinitesimal life left in him after the past three days' missions. Taking every bit of who he is, all for themselves to glare at so sweetly.

Your pretty little smile falls into an adorable frown. "Why are you here, Senpai?"

"Why am i here?" he echoes your ask. Your frown deepens. He grins, brushing his bangs away out of his view. "To see you, of course!! Mind if I take a seat beside you?"

You do mind. Gojo knows, yet doesn't find a fault in you minding him so—shutting your book, you don't waste an extra second to move to sit upright. Nor to scoot away when the boy takes your absence of an answer as an invitation to plop down onto the grass.

Your scowl stays unfazed, he watches, heart lurching and tumbling. Falling onto his back, he shifts to lie on his side, an elbow propped up to support his head, and hums.

"Why do you look so mad, sweet—"

"Please don't call me by such terms," you cut him off, sharp and terse, "And, please don't pretend you don't know why I'm mad—acting like a fool doesn't suit you."

"Acting like a fool doesn't suit you either, darling," The boy replies, not borrowing even a moment to mull over his words. It's honestly so like playing with fire... arguing with you, that is. But he is nothing if not an extremely devoted lover of danger, so he will keep doing whatever he is doing now—plus, don't the two of you appear so 'married couple'-y right now, huh?

He continues—not disturbed, rather delighted by how your features tighten and stiffen: eyes narrowing a touch, lips pursed a pinch. The boy wonders if you know how much you're endearing yourself to him the longer you keep looking at him that way—

He allows his grin to simmer down to a sly twist of lips.

"But i'm not going to question that... your love for your family is pretty cool—" Not really. He finds it boring at best, and stupid at worst. But since it's you... he tries to deem it as neither. "—so whatever amazing plan you've concocted: pretending to be weak, so that you aren't sent to any difficult mission, and you have a 100% chance of staying alive, ANDDD your dear family doesn't have to get sad—"

"Why are you here, senpai?"

Obviously, to see you, silly!!

—is what Gojo should say. Is what Gojo wants to say. But he finds his tongue numb and unmoving; rendered useless by the sight you, your cursed energy, both have become...

If you were a fire before, you're nothing less than a solar flare now.

And the boy loves it. His Six Eyes love it. The boy loves you—

Your brows gather close. His stomach does a flip. Your voice assumes an adorably serious tone, "You didn't come here to ask me out, again, did you, Senpai?"

Did he?

Oh, Gojo doesn't really know.

Maybe he did... he does want to take you to his favourite restaurants. But maybe he didn't... seeing you has been the only thing on his mind ever since he was informed of his mission being in Otsu, Shiga.

Only fifteen kilometres away from the Kyoto Jujutsu Tech—you don't allow him to utter a single syllable in reply, however. Gojo wonders if this is how all your future arguments will be like—he decides it is not that bad.

Not when you lean a little towards him. Narrowed gaze. Earnest tone.

"Look—I know keeping another's secrets is a big deal, and some folks need some sort of... uh, reward for that—but how about this? Instead of me going out on a date with you, why don't I buy you a box of gourmet chocolates? Or a ticket to your favorite band's concert? Or a gift voucher of your favourite clothing store—this is better, isn't it?"

Better... it would have been... if only he was dead set on making you reward him, as you oh so eloquently put it, for keeping your secrets.

But the thing is, he isn't. The boy doesn't want any sort of silly reward from you—he just wants to take you out on a date. Always has, since his eyes met yours few weeks ago and he felt something strange and sweet unfurl within his chest—

Making it seem like a payment for him shutting his mouth about you, was only a tactic. A very cheap tactic, the boy chides himself, looking at the worry etched into the dip of your lips.

Slipping his shades off, he sits up and offers a tiny smile. It feels... too weird... too soft on his lips.

"You do know who you're talking to, don't you?"

It takes you a while to reply—throwing back a question of your own, "Is this you telling me I can't buy a rich guy's silence, Senpai?"

He is. He very much is. But heaven knows why you make it sound this rude—the same as before, you don't stop speaking. Not allowing him squeeze a single word in.

"But everyone likes free stuff, don't they? I mean, I'll be buying all that for you, and you won't have to spend even a single yen..." you heave a sigh. So minute, he almost misses it. But he doesn't 'cause he's pretty much focused his every sense on you—

Exhaling yet another sigh, you ask, "Don't you like freebies, Senpai?"

He does. He very much does. Even more when you say it that way with your cute little frown and exasperated little tone—

"You're too sweet, y'know?" he breathes out, hoping he sounds just as fond as he feels of you now—extremely likely, forever. "I don't get why Utahime doesn't see you to be so."

You make some sort of a noise then.

It isn't quite a chuckle... nor is it a snort... it's very cute, nonetheless.

You hum, "Iori-senpai's the kindest out of everyone here. If she thinks I'm not someone sweet... I don't know but doesn't it ring some sort of warning bell inside your head, hm?"

"Hell no," Gojo mutters in that same instant—a bit miffed at how you refer to Utahime, a quiet respect lacing every letter you say—not-too-little miffed at the implications behind you calling that sharp-tongued girl the kindest here—

For the first time in your company, the boy feels his lips collapse into a frown.

It's something, he realises you realise too, the way your lips part a touch, in something akin surprise... but not the very pleased kind.

He doesn't really think before adding, "The only bells i can hear when I look at you are—" You frown. He bites his tongue. Maybe... he ought to think a bit before speaking...

Chuckling, he continues as if you did not just shoot his soul a look.

"Never mind what I can hear... but the thing is you can never be one who rings warning bells in others' minds—like, hell no!!" he repeats. Letting some force seep into his syllables, into his unwavering stare, fixed on you—on every minute expression you're making—

He really decides to think, however. Softening himself on noting your shaky exhale, your nails digging into the cover of your book—Gojo lets himself borrow a beat before resuming.

Forcing his face into a bright grin when he does so.

"Feel free to text me the names of the dipshits who have ever made you feel bad, by the way—but, don't worry," he adds, the memories of his previous error of ways hitting him in the face.

"I won't ask you out on a date in return for that—I'm just in need of an intensive punching practice, and you will do me a big favour by doing as I asked you to—you will text me, won't ya?"

Yeah. No. Thank you. Fuck you—

You say nothing.

Nothing, nothing, nothing at all.

For a very painfully long ten seconds.

During which you do nothing except look at him—just look, only look. Neither glare nor gape nor gawk—just a quiet, scarily quiet looking—Gojo swears his heart skips a beat when you finally open your mouth.

And inquire, words so slow and soft.

"This isn't some ploy of yours to get my number, right?"

"Hey, no—" he rushes to explain, fuming at himself because how the hell did he fuck up this bad again!?!?—but as is the norm, you do not allow him to speak any more than that. Cutting him off with yet another one of your queries—except this time, it is not too slow.

And more of a statement than a question, now that he thinks about it—"You did not really tell anyone about my secret in these past weeks, did you?"

No, he didn't. Obviously, he didn't.

Gojo Satoru may be several things, but an intentional villain isn't one of them. Something skids across your face when the boy tells you as much—but he finds himself not too sure.

Thanks to the lightning streaking across the sky.

And the torrential rains following not an instant late.

And the way your gaze jumps from him to the sky, to the book in your hold—only to come back to his face. Wide, unblinking, all-consuming for a scanty moment there—

Gojo tries his best not to collapse into the mud when you break into a sprint for cover from the downpour. He tries his best not to follow you as he feels your warmth go farther and farther away, and the boy's Six Eyes stare at the trail of your addictively bright and hot—and they are not talking about just the temperature—cursed energy—

He tries his damnedest best not to shout, overwhelmingly happy and relieved as he realises the rapidly reducing distance between him and your cursed signature.

The thud of your sneakers on the cement floor of the building sounds nothing less than the best music the boy's ever heard. Or, maybe, it is the best music in this whole wide world...

Yet another lightning streaks across the sky. He twists himself around just in time to catch the awe-filled look you offer at its sight—features something out of this realm as your eyes trace its path, not even a bit bothered by the deafening thunder that sounds next—

Gojo thinks he'll die happy if he dies now.

Or, maybe, he'll die later, he changes his stance quickly—on noticing you dash towards him through the mud, face fixed in a deep scowl as you struggle to open an umbrella, and balance a pretty heavy-looking bag off your forearm.

You huff when you reach him.

The boy wonders if it's your finally-open umbrella, or you, who shields him from the numbing cold of the torrential rains—

Crouching down before him, you drop the bag into his lap.

And, exhale a soft sigh. His breath catches in his chest when he spies a hint of something... maybe fondness? curling up the corners of your frown, as you speak.

"Next time you wanna flirt with someone, try not to do that immediately after your missions—it is awfully difficult to get mad at a person if they look just a push away from passing out, y'know?"

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

No—Gojo does not really know.

But as he lets you press the handle of the umbrella into his palm—an odd look flittering over your features before you turn on your heel and hurry back into the school building—and his eyes fall on the contents of the bag you've left with him—

Cans of green tea. Chamomile tea. Dark chocolate. Biscuits. Water—

The boy muses if this is your bid to buy his silence—by giving him enough food and drinks to prevent him from blacking out from sheer exhaustion while on the train ride back to Tokyo...

Oh—it's enough for him to not worry about tonight's dinner as well, he tells himself on finding two cups of instant noodles at the bottom of the bag—

Gojo smiles.

Deciding not only his silence to be yours, but also a part of his heart—although... weren't either of them yours to begin with, huh?

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rosylix143 · 2 months ago

Text

sweet angel | h. hyunjin

pairing: demon!hyunjin x angel!reader (fem)

genre: fantasy, angst (some comfort ig)

synopsis: you’re an angel who escaped the heavenly palace from your extremely possessive guardian angel, only for you to stumble into a forbidden territory of a demon who finds you a little peculiar.

cw: MDNI (putting this warning here just to be safe), abusive relationships (not with hyunjin), descriptions of abusive behavior (also not with hyunjin), captivity, manipulation, not everything is religiously accurate, hyunjin's lowkey an asshole but also not really lol.

let me know if i’m missing anything

wc: 2985

other parts: sweet angel | fallen angel

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Your feet were tired. Your legs were burning, and air was constantly forcing itself in and out of your lungs rapidly. Your head was spinning, and your wings hurt from resisting the pin so much. You just wanted to fly instead of run, but you couldn’t. You didn’t even know where you were going. You just wanted to be as far away from the Heavenly Palace as possible. It didn’t matter where you were. You just needed to be out of any angel’s sight.

Suddenly, a scream escaped your throat as you tripped over one of the larger roots of the trees. You fell face-flat onto the grass. Your nose burned from the rough landing. You groaned and tried to get up. You winced a little, noticing the trail of blood coming down from your knee. You then took a moment to see how your perfect white dress was now torn and covered in dirt.

You tried to get up, but you were exhausted. How long have you been running for, you had no idea. You didn’t even know where you were. You panted heavily and looked around to take in your surroundings. Turns out that you ran into some deep forest. The trees were tall and lively, most of them were growing delicious fruits. The sunlight was glimmering through the branches, and the water was flowing peacefully. The flowers were even blooming. Everything in the forest was beautiful. But everything in Heaven was beautiful. It’s so beautiful that no one could see the darkness within.

No one knew what living in the Heavenly Palace entailed. At least for you. Every angel around you found pleasures in the littlest things in the palace: all the wine, fruits, music, and holy books. You wondered if they ever had to go through the same things as you. There had to be something wrong in their lives at least. Or maybe you were just so naive that you never knew of some test you had to pass to achieve great success. Did they ever have a Guardian Angel like him?

You wondered so many things, but you didn’t have the time to think about it all. You only needed to run and run and run until he couldn't find you. You tried to get up, but your legs were so tired. It was like they gave up on you. Or maybe you were paralyzed, you didn’t know. You wanted to just lie down and rest somewhere, but your mind was screaming at you to keep going because if you don’t…he’ll find you.

I have to keep going….God, please let me move….

“Oh my…I didn’t expect to see an angel around here.”

You stopped, and so did your heart. The voice was unfamiliar, but if it was a fellow angel, there’s a chance that he’s found his way close to you. You looked around frantically, wondering who could be nearby. Your eyes then met those of a man dressed in all black: a black sheer button up with intricate maroon patterns, black trousers, and black pointed shoes. His hair was a little long, dark, and luscious. His lips were full and red like a very ripe plum, and his eyes were a deep crimson, mischief brewing in them. His dark wings were spread out, and his thin and pointed tail was wailing around like a whip. A demon?!

“Who are you?!” you asked, your voice shaking.

“What does it look like, Angel?” he laughed a little, “Don’t tell me you’re unfamiliar with my kind.”

He stepped closer to you, and you couldn’t do anything about it but brace your arms for anything. Your legs were still not bothering to move, and your wings were a lost cause. The demon was finally standing right before you. He was tall, and he looked at you with curiosity. It’s not every day he sees a battered angel. Normally, angels are well-kept, and their wings are never pinned and clipped. A smirk crept up his lips, and he crouched down to meet you at eye level.

“So this angel is rather…unfortunate,” he said, his voice had a little dryness, but there was something a little melodious about it. “What could have you possibly done to get you looking like this, sweetheart?”

You didn’t look at him. Meeting a demon was the last thing you needed to deal with. Your whole life, you have been told to avoid demons in whatever way you can. They are evil, they encourage nothing but sin, they come from a place of constant torture and endless pain, and they try to corrupt as many angels and humans as they can to take them away from the righteous path. To meet a demon is the equivalent of meeting your demise.

“Not that much of a talker, huh?” the demon asked. “I thought angels loved to talk and talk. But again, angels don’t get their wings clipped and pinned like a treasured bird.”

He laughed a little. You couldn’t say anything about it because he was, in fact, right. You aren’t like other angels. The demon circled around you like you were some zoo animal. If you had any strength or energy to run, you would’ve been far away from him by now. Shivers were sent down your spine when you felt his fingertips glide across your wings.

“Very pretty and soft wings,” the demon purred, touching your feathers like it was a cat’s back.

You couldn’t help but think of the many times your Guardian Angel sat you in front of the mirror, your bare body fully on display. Your skin was warm and rosy, and he held you close, kissing your neck softly while touching your wings. He did it with the same kind of gentleness, whispering soft praises into your ear of how good you’ve been for the whole day, right before he brought out the long and sharp golden shears. You quickly cowered away from the demon’s touch, shaking and hiding behind the large tree that was closest to you.

“Don’t touch me,” you said.

The demon raised his eyebrows, becoming even more curious. He then smirked once more.

“So the angel can talk,” he said. “Don’t worry, Sweetheart, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“That’s rich coming from a demon,” you spat out.

“And you know what I am. Good, good. I was beginning to worry that you didn’t. Oh, silly me, I haven’t even introduced myself. My name is Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin bowed his head toward you like a gentleman. You just stared at him while he looked deeply into your eyes. If you were being honest with yourself, something stirred deep within you from his gaze. You weren’t so sure why. Maybe it was just his intimidating presence or devilishly handsome face.

“Well, I’m no one…” you said, finally feeling your strength return to your legs. You got up and turned your back to him.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Hyunjin said, “I thought angels couldn’t lie.”

“Your perception of angels is skewed.”

You crossed your arms and started walking away from him. You didn’t hear anything from Hyunjin for a moment. Maybe he was pondering your words. You kept walking, and you felt something cold and scaly slither up your leg. Your eyes widened, and you jumped, letting out a squeal. The black snake quickly wrapped itself around your arms and waist, keeping your body still, and Hyunjin was suddenly standing right in front of you.

“What do you mean by that, Sweet Angel?” he asked, “You're telling me that all the angels up in Heaven are truly not the God fearing divine beings they claim themselves to be? Has my whole life been a lie?”

He asked with such a sarcastic tone, like it was laughable that angels are capable of being anything other than God fearing and perfect. You wanted to slap the demon before you, but you couldn’t because of the snake wrapped around you.

“What are you doing?” you asked, irritated, “Let me go!”

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Hyunjin rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. The snake immediately disappeared, turning into a red smoke, and you were free to move again. Well…mostly. Your wings were still pinned. “Come on, Angel, I was simply asking a question, and you haven’t given me an answer.”

“Why should I answer to a demon of all things?”

“Because you ran into my territory.”

You stopped for a moment. His territory? You looked around, and the forest around you seemed clearer than before. Sure, it was beautiful on the surface as you thought, but the wind was cold—very cold. The sky changed from blue and bright to dull and gray. The trees were slowly decaying, and all the cute animals you’d normally see in Heaven were laid dead, decomposing on the ground. This place didn’t feel like Heaven to you.

“Oh…the poor angel doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into,” Hyunjin teased. “Well, to be fair, it did look like you were running away from somewhere. It’s only unfortunate that you bumped into me.”

“Am I in Hell?!” you asked, a little panicked.

“I’d say the In Between. One step closer to me, and you, Sweet Angel, will end up in Hell.”

“I can’t be here!! I have to leave…”

“Leave? And go back to Heaven so soon?”

You froze a little at his response. You couldn’t go back to Heaven. Not after running away for so long. You couldn’t bear to imagine the look on your Guardian Angel’s face once he sees you crawl back to him. The punishments he’d give you for being a disobedient angel, or the humiliation you’d feel if he forced other angels to see you looking so broken and ruined, making an example out of you for why angels shouldn’t disobey their Guardians and God.

Hyunjin looked at your conflicted expression. He didn’t understand why an angel would be so torn about returning to Heaven. It’s their safe haven, is it not? But he then looked at your state once more: your clipped wings, held together by a golden pin, your torn up and dirtied white dress, the bloodied scrape on your knee, and the red marks on your wrists, ankles, and neck. Not to mention, the scars on your skin that looked like the aftermath of severe burns.

“You were running away from Heaven, weren’t you?” he asked.

Your silence was enough of an answer.

“Let me guess,” Hyunjin continued, “You disobeyed your God, and you’re dealing with the consequences—”

“I didn’t disobey Him,” you said, “I did nothing wrong.”

“Oh really? Well, what else could’ve happened?”

It was clear Hyunjin didn’t believe you.

“Fine. You wanna know the truth?” Your patience was wearing thin, and your hands were trembling. “My Guardian Angel did this to me. I didn’t do anything wrong. I just existed, and he punished me for it. He claimed that he was protecting me from the cruel Hell demons and whatever sinful things were lurking around. I was too precious to him, he said. But then it got to a point where he just locked me up in his home and then later his room and then eventually a cage….”

The memories were flooding your mind once more: from the beginning where your Guardian Angel gave you a beautiful smile with the words “I will keep you happy and safe” to the many times he clipped your wings and pinned them together, the many times he kept you in a gilded cage, your wrists, ankles, and neck bound by golden chains, and the most recent memory of running away from him the second he opened your cage to check on the burns he left on your skin with hot iron.

Your heart clenched, and even while thinking about it all, nothing made sense to you. The number of times he said he loved you more than anything and how lucky he was that God put you into his life. His kisses, his embraces, his hands tying the strings of your dress together and putting your hair up. They were so soft and gentle, unlike his harsh grip and his loud, haunting voice. Your Guardian Angel was meant to love and protect you, but he instead tortured you for even thinking of stepping outside. Tears streamed down your cheeks and landed on your ruined white dress.

Hyunjin watched as you were crouched on the ground, sobbing your pain away and feeling weak and helpless. He’s seen and done many cruel things in his lifetime, but he’s never seen anything like this. An angel all broken because of another angel. He didn’t even believe that it was possible. All he’s ever known was that angels were incapable of doing anything heinous, let alone lying. But here you are, crying because of your Guardian Angel’s abuse. He wasn’t sure why, but Hyunjin felt something stir within him. He couldn’t exactly define it, but he wanted nothing more than to have you in his arms.

“Oh, angel,” Hyunjin said. He lowered himself to your level. His dark demon wings spread out and covered you like a blanket. You couldn’t see anything except for him. His hands gently reached for your face, his crimson eyes staring into yours. “It’s awful that you had to go through that.”

“Are you pitying me?” you cried, “I don’t need it.”

“No, no, I’m not pitying you. It’s just….They don’t deserve you. How could anyone be so cruel to their own?”

You sniffed, feeling so confused yet comforted by Hyunjin’s words. His touch was surprisingly gentle and not threatening. You had a fuzzy feeling in your stomach, and you didn’t understand why. Why was a demon comforting you? Demons are supposed to be evil and heartless, aren’t they? Hyunjin’s expression and embrace, from both his arms and wings, reminded you of something. You remembered the night your Guardian Angel scolded you for even thinking about walking to the Garden of Eden by yourself.

It was dark outside, and you read a lovely poem about the Garden of Eden. Your Guardian Angel was finishing up his nightly prayers to the Almighty. You innocently asked if you could go to the Garden, and he firmly said no.

“Why can’t I go to the Garden?” you asked, “Every angel gets to see it so why can’t I?”

“Because demons can still lurk there, Y/N,” your Guardian Angel said, his tone very annoyed. “They’ll give you an apple, and your lovely wings will disappear. Besides, we have a garden of our own, and it’s just as beautiful as Eden.”

“But—”

“No buts. My job is to protect you from harm, and I can’t afford letting you walk out there into any demon’s trap.”

“This is Heaven though, and I never hear anything about a demon lurking around from other angels.”

“Yes, but demons are still going to find an excuse to be here.”

“You’re acting like I can’t protect myself.”

“That’s because you can’t!!” he yelled, his voice booming through the whole room. “Look at yourself. You’re too naive, too pure, and too innocent for this universe! You don’t understand just how different you are from other angels, Y/N. If any demon gets its hands on you….I won’t ever forgive myself. God wouldn’t forgive me.”

Silence was between you both, and your Guardian Angel’s hands were clenched into fists. Meanwhile, you were twiddling your thumbs, your whole body slightly shaking. He looked deep into your eyes, and he couldn’t help but feel weak for just how scared and guilty you looked. Your Guardian Angel sighed and approached you, pulling you into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he said calmly. “You know how protective I am of you…I’ll go to the Garden tomorrow and pick out something for you. I’ll get you anything you like.”

You were completely enveloped in his arms and wings. His hand was gently gliding on your smooth, silky hair, and your warm face was right up against his defined and soft chest. His scent was so strong that it made you dizzy. You weren’t so sure how to feel within that moment, but the thought of having anything from the Garden of Eden seemed like a good compromise.

“Anything?” you asked.

“Anything, Love,” he said, kissing your forehead.

You opened your eyes once more, and Hyunjin looked at you with such sincerity. Maybe this was some demon’s trap like your Guardian Angel said many times. Hyunjin was holding you so tenderly, and his wings were not like anything you’ve ever seen: so dark, sharp, and leathery, unlike your soft, fragile, and feathered. His tail was one of a kind. It could pierce through anything, but it probably wouldn’t hurt as much as the hot iron staff your Guardian Angel pressed against your bare skin more than once.

“Will you protect me?” you asked.

Hyunjin looked into your eyes, and without thinking, he leaned in close. His lips pressed against yours.

“Yes, I will,” he said, “I’ll treat you better than any angel has in their lifetime.”

He held you close, gently kissing you just like your Guardian Angel did many times. However, this time, you felt the urge to kiss him back. You kissed Hyunjin back, and his hands traveled down to your waist. You weren’t so sure if this was his demon magic or if you were severely starved for love. But you melted into his touch anyway. Maybe your Guardian Angel was right. You were too naive, too pure, too innocent for this universe, but at that moment, you didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore. If Hyunjin’s so bad, then what makes him any different from your Guardian Angel? If losing your wings meant never having to be in endless pain and suffering ever again, then you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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a/n: here's a new fic to take a small breather from the LADS AU lol. this type of fic isn't what i normally write, but the idea was killing me, so i had to get it out there. also, happy birthday, hyunjin. love you to pieces, pookie bear :333 comment down your thoughts, and ofc reblog/like if you enjoyed it. see y'all in my next post hehe <3

masterlist | taglist

#stray kids #skz #skz stay #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #kpop #kpop fanfic

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