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gghostwriter · 5 months ago

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Death of a Love Affair

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times you understood and the final time you couldn’t.

Warning: angst with no happy ending

A/n: this felt oddly personal to me this is my first time writing in the Y/N perspective and in a one shot format so please be kind. I kinda left a possibly for p2, not sure about that yet, but let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

Main masterlist || Part 2A (happy end) || Part 2B (sad end)

The first time it happened, you completely understood.

You had an inkling as to what you were getting into when you started dating a 187 genius who graduated at a young age and who was scouted straight from college by the FBI. It wasn’t hard to comprehend these external circumstances mixed with his internal need to prove himself worthy of belonging with the big boys would result in missed personal events. It was a given, you expected it.

You just didn’t count on him missing your graduation. After all, he gave his word that he’ll be there to see you walk the stage and receive your diploma. He promised you and yet, as you scanned the crowd of loved ones hugging the attendees, there was no sign of his tie wearing, button up lithe form weaving through the crowd, no sign of his slicked hair, meticulously tucked behind his ears and no sign his doe eyed hazel eyes shining with pride as you joined the ranks of adulthood and unemployment.

You reach for your phone, now finally free from the nerves and adrenaline of going up the stage, with a single unread message from the one you wished to be here with you.

I’m sorry, angel. There’s a case and Gideon needs me.

You sighed with a mild smile sprouting on your glossed lips as you sent back a reply.

No worries! We can celebrate when you get back. Be safe, I love you.

“Oh honey, I’m so proud of you!” Your mom exclaimed, reaching for a hug. “You graduated and with so many achievements—I mean look at all these cords hanging around your neck!”

You laughed as you stepped out from her warm embrace and watched joyful tears gather under her eyes. “Thanks, Mom! Hopefully all these cords help me get a job soon, huh, or else I’ll be moving back home with you.”

“Oh honey, stop joking! As if I wouldn’t welcome you back with open arms,” she quipped back.

A hand holding a bouquet of flowers shot up to your face. It was a bundle of your favorite, carnations, in ranges of different colors.

“Congratulations, lil sis,” your older brother, Trevor, breathed out. “Do I get a hug too or is that just for Mom?”

You giggled as you stepped into his arms, happy to be sharing this moment with your ever loving protector of a brother, no matter how busy he might be as a head chef for his own highly rated restaurant.

“Hey big brother, thanks for being here,” you mumbled in his tight grasp. “Did you pass along my invite to Dad?”

You felt him subtly shake his head causing your smile to slightly falter. You knew better than to expect the man who gifted you half of his genes to show up—a workaholic, absentee of a father whose love language was to deposit checks to your bank account from his fattened pockets as a lawyer for the rich. It was the cause of your parents’ separation when you were five years old. The matriarch tired from taking up the mantle as both the paternal and maternal figure for both you and your brother. Your mother exhausted from repeatedly believing broken promises uttered to herself and to her babies.

Having seen first hand how each lie wrapped as an oath chipped a piece of the loving and bright woman who gave birth to you and your brother, you vowed to never let that happen to you. It was a cautionary tale engrained in your mind. A fable—a curse really and in hindsight, you should have seen the markings of history repeating itself.

“Now, where is your nerdy pipe cleaner of a boyfriend?” He asked as he scanned around the vicinity for a sight of Spencer.

You shrugged, genuinely alright with your FBI agent of a boyfriend missing this milestone in your life. “Duty called. But that’s okay, we’ll celebrate when he gets back.”

A pair of eyes, similar to yours, inquisitively studied you as if making sure there was no hidden hurt behind those words uttered. “If you say so,” he stated, turning to your mother who was smiling at the both of you—her greatest treasures. “Mom, let’s get out of here. I had John prep the kitchen for a feast.”

You and your mom chattered excitedly at the passenger back seat as Trevor backed the four-door navy sedan out of the parking and drove off to his restaurant for the promised lunch graduation.

———

It was well into the night as you were settling in bed when the tell-tale signs of the main door being unlocked echoed through the dark green walls of his apartment.

“Spence?” You called out, letting him know that you were there instead of in your own apartment, 30 minutes away.

More shuffling was heard before the object of your love and affection rounded the bedroom door with a set of his own flowers on hand. He breathed out your name in reverence as he went for a kiss, pleased that he had still caught you awake.

“Congratulations, my love,” he smiled as he pulled away from your soft lips. “These are for you and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”

You smiled back, gladly accepting his apologies and flowers. “It’s all good, Spence. I know how demanding your job is. I missed you.”

“I missed you too. I told Gideon and Hotch that’ll I’ll be unavailable this weekend. It’s just you and me,” he said as he went in for another kiss, unable to resist any longer. Not long after, his outside clothes and your sleepwear were strewn all around the bedroom floor as both your bodies merged into one and reached a mutual crescendo with your gasps and his groans as the choir.

***

The second time, you moderately understood.

You noted that the BAU was back in full swing with Gideon being brought back to the saddle after what happened in Boston. As his birthday treat, you both agreed to fly in for the weekend to Vegas to visit his mother at the facility. He never would have gone alone should it not have been for your enthusiasm to come with. You loved talking to Diana about Spencer’s childhood during her good days and you also loved being in her presence still even when she was lost in her teaching past—acting out as a student as you got to hear her lectures about literature.

The bustling at the airport had you tip toeing up to catch a sight of Spencer, your flight departing in about an hour. It was a late Friday afternoon, travelers were piling in for a weekend trip, and he promised to head straight from the Bureau to the airport to meet you by the entrance. Your head swiveled from left to right, biting your lip as the minutes ticked by with no sign of your boyfriend running towards you.

The phone in your jean pocket rang and your heart slightly dropped at the sight of the caller ID.

“Hey pretty boy,” you greeted, naively wishing that this phone call wasn’t a bearer of bad news. “Are you almost at the airport?”

There were muffled voices heard in the background. “Uhm—actually—”

You sighed, understanding what he wanted to say. “There’s a case,” you stated as a matter of fact. “It’s alright, Spence. I’ll tell your mom something popped up. No worries.”

“You—you don’t have to go alone. We can always reschedule,” he suggested, the timber of his voice going up an octave as if he was in a panic at the idea of disappointing you.

“You and I both know Diana’s excited about this trip,” you chuckled as you recalled how her doctor had described his mother’s face lighting up every time she was reminded of the visit. “I’ll go and spend some time with her. Maybe even get her to tell me more embarrassing childhood stories about her perfect boy.”

He lightly laughed at your joke to ease the tension and remorse he was feeling. “I could have told you all of it if you just asked.”

“Well, does it include pictures of you too?” You teased as you were checking in at the counter.

There was a stern voice calling for his name in the background, it was Hotch, you silently guessed.

“Listen, I have to go. The team is about to give the profile,” he rushed out to inform you. “I’ll see you when we both get back. I love you.”

The call ended without so much of a chance for you to say it back.

As the plane got ready to take off, your mood continued to further dampen. He promised to go—to you and to his own mother via the phone. An ivy seed of doubt was planted in your mind. Did he try to excuse himself from the case to his boss as some sort of birthday gift? It really didn’t work that way, you knew, with how of a high demand his job is but still, you wondered if his team was informed about the plans for this weekend or were they purposely kept out of the loop. That notion wouldn’t surprise you at the slightest, thinking back. The profilers weren’t even aware of his mother’s state and condition. Hell, they didn’t even know that you existed, a girlfriend of two years, until well into his first year at the BAU.

Deep down you grasped why he keeps Diana a secret. You were aware of the shame and embarrassment he felt for himself, having had to have her institutionalized by the time he reached the age of eighteen. You got that, didn’t mean you understood it but nonetheless, you respected his decision and was even proud of him for reaching out for professional help no matter how much he viewed that action of his cowardly. But what you weren’t really privy to was really why your relationship was kept in the dark. It could have saved him from Morgan’s incessant ribbing of his inability to pick up women.

During one night where your insecurities got the best of you, you asked in a small voice if he was ashamed of the relationship. He vehemently denied it, repeatedly saying that he just wanted to have a secret solace—a happy home to return to that was untouched by the worst human terrors that he encounters on the daily. That was what you were, he explained, a sunlit luscious reprieve filled with flowers and laughter where he could rest his weary bones from the ravaging, dark waves. His own piece of heaven here on earth. He then kissed your fears away that night, hugged you tight into his chest—the vibrations from his humming lulling you to slumber.

———

“I always knew it would take a special girl to understand my special boy,” Diana mused out loud as you plated a slice of cake for her.

You blushed, sitting down beside her with your own. “He’s perfect. I wouldn’t trade him for anyone else.”

She affectionately combed through your hair, similar to how her son would. “Thank you. For visiting and being understanding of his erratic schedule.”

“It’s no problem at all, Diana. I love him, I knew what I was getting into when we started dating.” You stated as the ivy seed of doubt sprouted in your mind—did you really? Did you really understand what you were getting into?

***

The third time, you still tried to understand.

There you were surrounded by the purest celebration of love and matrimony, sans your long-haired, sweater vest wearing plus one. Your brother was getting married to the love of his life, vowing himself to be with her for better, for worse and your other half was in another state catching criminals. Fiddling with the diamond engagement ring adorning your finger, you recalled how you ended up alone, dateless, in this joyous occasion.

You RSVP’ed with a date when the invitation arrived four months ago. Your brother even calling in to make sure that he, your well-celebrated FBI fiancée, will be able to attend a month before the wedding. You internally scoffed at his repeated checking but in retrospect, maybe he saw the end well before you did. You promised to him, as Spencer did to you, that he’ll be available to watch the union and to save all the slow dances with him. But the day before the wedding, the phone rang for a case in Dallas and you knew what it meant. Without so much of a fight, you kissed him goodbye by the door of his now shared apartment and let the dreary silence enveloped you as you think of how to inform your brother of the new change without hearing the pity and patronization in his voice.

Nursing a glass of red wine, you watched your brother dance with his newly wedded wife and in your peripheral, you spotted your mother approaching you at the table.

“Now why are you being such a sourpuss during this festive event?” She chimed out as she pulled a chair beside you. “You should be out there, dancing and getting to know our new extended family.”

You shrugged, unsure on what to say. She was right, of course. All the guests were enjoying themselves and basking in the warm, infectious glow of the happy couple but you didn’t have the courage in you to mask the despondent emotions inside of you.

Your mother sighed and took your left hand in hers. “You know, when your dad and I were going through the proceedings of the divorce, I had moments when I wanted to back out from it. I loved your father, still holds a piece of my heart till this day, and I thought the small moments of happiness when he was around would be enough to tied me through the days when he wasn’t. I thought those times and our love for you kids were sufficient to keep our love from wilting. If I poured out affection and devotion to the home we once built, it wouldn’t crumble surely. But you know what I forgot—”

You turned to face her somber eyes, looking into yours as if searching for something that seemed to no longer be there.

“—I forgot to take care of myself. I gave a pieces of me away so willing and so many times that when I reached the end of the marriage, I no longer knew who I was. Where the piece of me started and where it ended. You’re withering, my flower. The vibrant life that I once longed to protect in your eyes is slowly dying. I don’t want you to reach the finish line and not know how you got up there. How you ended up giving all yourself away with not a flower bud left to blossom just for you.”

You felt your hackles rise to defend the relationship. In hindsight, this was you denying the truth that was staring you right in the face. “It’s not like that with Spencer, Mom. It’s just—the job is hectic and it’s been his forever dream. He had finally started to gain his footing when Gideon and Elle left and then the kidnapping happened and that pushed his progress back a bit. But he’s getting there now. We’re stabilizing and we had a discussion—there’s less broken promises. It’s just that this recent case in Dallas was urgent and they needed the team to solve crime. I don’t want to take him away from the country and the people who needs his help and from his dream of solving crimes. I love him, Mom, in all of his entirety and he deserves all the respect and understanding from me as his partner.”

She squeezed the hand in hers—the left hand adorning the ring, the material manifestation of his vow to you that you had happily accepted. “I‘ve grown fond of Spencer. I see him as another son of mine but darling, sometimes the love you feel for each other is not enough. A relationship takes continuous work—a task that both individuals must pull in the effort and prioritize. Just think about it,” she stated as she stood up. “Now, no more of this depressing talk and this serious energy from you. Go around, dance with your brother, and enjoy.”

You mustered up a smile as you proceeded to do just what you were told until your feet were sore from all the dancing. But no matter the joyous occasion, it didn’t stop the realization in the form of ivy from taking roots and slowly covering all corners of your mind.

***

And the final time, you could no longer understand.

The grandfather clock stationed at the corner of the dimly lit apartment struck at two. Your figure was still dressed in your purple fitted dress as you waited for your soon-to-be other half to walk through the door. It was another night of getting your hopes up and broken promises and you were no longer sure how much you could take before the love you held in your heart festers and turns into resentment.

You promised yourself you’d never be in a situation that you had seen your mother once be in. You became the careful daughter of a careless man who gave little to no effort to cherish the love a woman had freely given to him. You thought with all your cautiousness and logical thinking, the mistakes of the mother would never be repeated. That was naive thinking—you realized now. By actively being aware of the past, you’d forgotten to look ahead and fell deep into the pitfalls of doing the same as your mother did.

Spencer once mentioned that there was a high divorce rate in his line of duty. How he worried and vowed that you both will never join that rate. And that was a promise he’ll be able to keep, you scoffed to yourself, as you spun the ring on the table.

Another shared piece of information floated to the forefront of your mind. How Haley had recently served Hotch, his unit chief divorce papers. You’ve grown close with her over the years, being the only two constant partners to someone working in the BAU. You’ve seen first hand all the missed milestones in Haley’s and Jack’s life as her husband flew around the country with the cavalry, saving the innocent one case at a time. Never taking the time to realize that the once solid foundation of their marriage was crumbling down with every flight he took. Similar to what was happening in the doctor’s own home.

A set of keys unlatched the mahogany door and a fresh batch of florals were the first that entered through, followed by Spencer looking sheepish as he noted your presence by the sofa. “Angel, I’m so sorry I missed your promotion dinner.”

Silence greeted him as he stumbled to get to where you were. “Carnations for you.”

Tears started to form under your eyes. You didn’t want to break but the reality of your decision was setting in. You wanted to falter, to change your mind, to give him another chance but you knew you couldn’t. You’ve given too much of your understanding away and you doubted you have any more to give to this beautiful man who once promised to make you his top priority.

“I can’t accept them, Spencer.”

His eyebrows furrowed and his body tensing as if sensing the finality behind your words. “Why not? They’re your favorite.”

“They are but—” you took a deep breath, steeling your resolve. “—I think we should stop.”

“W-what? No. No, please,” he stammered out as his own set of tears started flooding his eyes, blurring you from his vision. “I’m sorry I missed the dinner. I’ll make it up to you—I promise just—”

The dam of your emotions broke causing you to freely sob out all the sadness and anger that had collected in your heart. “I’m tired, Spencer. You can’t promise anything to me anymore. You’ve broken so many promises that you’ll only end up breaking them again.”

He took your hands into his, letting the bouquet fall crushed on the hardwood floor, recognizing the ring missing in your finger. “This time, this time it’ll be different. Please, don’t leave me.”

“The country needs you, the BAU needs you. But I need you too, Spencer. I love you, I really do but I can’t be your third priority anymore. I don’t deserve that—don’t I deserve to come first before the country and the job?”

He tightened his hold on your hands as if afraid that you were slipping through his fingers, denying the reality that you already had. “I love you so much. I don’t want to live without you by my side. Tell me how to fix this. Do you want me to leave the BAU? I’ll—I’ll do it, just stay with me, please.”

You shook your head. “I don’t want you to leave the FBI. Your ambition and integrity is one of the facets that I loved about you and you might end up resenting me down the line if you leave now. It’s not yet your time to leave the BAU, you and I both know that,” you pulled your hands away and slid the ring in front of him. “This belongs to you, I’m giving it back.”

His shoulder caved in on itself, the weight of it all too much for him to carry. “I don’t want this to be our end. I just don’t.”

“I don’t want this too, but I need to,” you whispered as your hand reached out to push shoulder length hair out of the way. “Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe in the future we’d meet again and continue the pages of our love story but for now, I have to do this Spencer. I can’t keep giving a piece of me every time your top priority needs you, I’ll end up hating you if I stay.”

You leaned in for one final kiss. A salty, tear filled kiss of death to a future you had once envisioned with the beautiful boy before you. A white picket fence with children laughing at the backyard—the American dream fading into nothing as you start to pull away.

“Goodbye for now, Spencer.”

He stared at all the curves and dips in your face one last time as if etching every detail into his already perfect memory.

“Goodbye for now, Y/N.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer Reid oneshot

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aperrywilliams · 6 months ago

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Has a Nice Ring to It (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Wife!BAU!Reader.

Request: Hi, I would like to request one where the reader and Spencer adopt a 4-year-old boy that they rescued in a case.

Summary: It's pretty much the same as the request says, but focused on how they met with the boy and took the decision to adopt him.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Hurt/comfort and angst with a happy ending. CM typical stuff, murder, unsubs, death of relatives, orphancy. Pregnancy and adoption are discussed. I don't know how the adoption system works in the US, so bear with me.

A/N: I loved the request. Dad!Spencer lives rent-free in my mind. Tell me your thoughts.

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

‘(Y/N)? What's your location and status? I repeat, what's your location and status?'

Hotch's voice echoes through your earpiece, but you are not able to speak. Not when the scenario in front of you is so overwhelming.

Although in your eight years working at the BAU, you have seen the most horrendous things one human being can do to another, from time to time, some cases can still paralyze you.

Like now.

As you look around, you can only think of the terrible minutes those who lived in this home must have gone through when the unsub forced its way in.

But something snaps you out of your stupor, and it's not Hotch's voice shouting in your ear; it's the sound of sobs.

The sobs of a child.

You take off your earpiece to get a better notion of where the sound is coming from, and you notice that at the back of the room, there is a closet with its door closed.

You quickly run over there and open the door, only to find a little boy sitting on the floor, hugging his knees and with teary eyes. When he looks at you, you can see the shock and fear in his eyes. The little one must be four years old at most. It breaks your heart to see him like this, but it immediately makes you go into alert mode again. You holster your gun first so as not to scare the kid.

"Hey, sweetheart. It's okay. My name is (Y/N), and I'm a cop. Everything is okay. You're safe," you tell him with a reassuring voice and kind eyes while you crouch to get to his level.

His hazel orbs are glued to your form as he blinks a few times.

Before you can talk again, he launches to wrap his little arms around one of your legs. With an arm, you hug him back as you block his view of the room with your body. He doesn't need to see the same you did as you got there.

"I've got you, sweetheart. You're okay," you repeat him as you put on your earpiece again. "I'm in the master bedroom. No unsub, but I found the kid," you murmured into the com.

Yet crouched, you lean back to look at the boy. "I'm gonna get you out of here now, okay? But I need you to keep your eyes on me until we get outside. Can you do that for me?"

The kid nods timidly. Removing your FBI jacket, you take him in your arms, covering you both with it as you make your way out. A bunch of agents enter the room at the time, but you keep your eyes on the boy, using your peripheral vision to keep walking and not fall.

Spencer is waiting for you at the base of the stairs. Concern is visible on his face when he sees you coming down with a child. When you reach the first floor, you withdraw the jacket that covers both of you.

"Good job, honey," you say to the boy with a smile. And then you briefly exchange a knowing look with Spencer. He nods, and you continue your way out of the house with the kid in your arms.

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

It turns out the child, named Elliot, is the son of the unsub's two recent victims. Unsub that you have been chasing all over DC for three days now.

You get confirmation of this information from Garcia by phone as the EMTs are checking Elliot in an ambulance parked outside the house where you found him.

It's still unclear what really happened inside. Still, it's likely Elliot's mom hid him in the closet before the unsub got upstairs. You don't know for sure because the little boy hasn't said a word to anyone yet.

And although it's heartbreaking, you know you have to make him talk about what he saw and heard.

Hotch, a few meters apart, beckons you to approach.

"I'll be right back, okay?" You say to Elliot. But as you're about to step away from him, he starts crying and grabs your sleeve so you don't go. You look at your boss, confused as to what to do, and Hotch nods, showing you his cell phone, a sign that he'll text or call you so you don't have to leave Elliot's side.

A ping of your phone signals a text from Hotch.

'We need to know what he knows. You'll ride with him to the quarters. Spencer is going to drive you.'

You think it's reasonable due to the rapport it seems you already have with the boy.

"It's okay, Elliot. I'm not leaving you. But we need to go to another place now, okay? So we can be more comfortable. It's getting cold here," you point it out as the reason why you need to leave and not because he needs to be questioned.

A faint 'okay' escape from the boy's lips, and it's the first word you hear him say. And a lump forms in your throat, acknowledging the vulnerability of that little human being.

From the corner of your eye, you see Spencer getting closer, presumably having talked to Hotch.

"Elliot, this is Spencer. He will drive us to a comfy place. He is a good friend and will take care of us," you announce.

"Hi, Elliot," Spencer says as he waves.

"Hi," the child murmurs as he waves back.

The ride to the station starts mostly quiet. You are in the back seat with little Elliot as Spencer drives. From time to time, he looks at you both from the rearview.

Spencer knows you are trying to come up with a strategy to talk to the child, so he takes the lead in doing the small talk to give you some insights.

"So, Elliot. Can I ask you a question?" Spencer starts, and the kid perks his head up and nods, with a 'yes' slipping from his lips.

"What is your favorite food?"

The boy pouts a bit while contemplating his response. "Pizza," he decides. "I like pizza."

"Pizza is cool," Spencer agrees. "Would you like some now? I can stop by and get one," Spencer offers.

"With ham?" Elliot quirks an eyebrow questioningly.

"If you like ham, then ham it is."

"I like ham and tomatoes," he adds. Spencer smiles.

"Did you know pizza with ham and tomatoes is (Y/N) 's favorite?" Elliot's gaze turns to you, asking for confirmation. You nod, backing Spencer's statement. A timid smile crosses Elliot's face, and you could have melted right then and there.

Spencer continues asking the boy little questions; that's how you know he likes airplanes, his favorite color is green, and he prefers Hulk over Ironman.

At the BAU, you head with Elliot to one of the meeting rooms—the most little and cozy so that the boy could settle in a less intimidating environment. Spencer follows you back, stopping by to grab from Garcia the pizza box and drinks he asked her for earlier.

"Here it is. Pizza with ham and tomatoes. I got some drinks, too," Spencer announces, placing everything on the table. He knows you have to talk to Elliot about what happened in the house, so he suspects you need privacy with the kid. He stops at the door and looks at you. You stand to approach him while Elliot is occupied with a slice of pizza.

He grabs your hand and, after kissing it lovingly, gives it a reassuring squeeze.

"You're doing good. It's for the better. He trusts you. We need to catch the guy."

It's just what you need to hear. You're still unsure about the whole situation, and Spencer, as always, can see it. Your husband of two years can read you like a book, and it's not because of his profile skills. You both have been through a lot together in the years of working together, being friends at first and then as a couple.

You nod, and Spencer kisses you on the cheek before letting you alone with Elliot.

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

It's shocking the wretched details that a 4-year-old's mind can retain and still see the world innocently. In some way, you're grateful Elliot can't understand everything that's happening around him.

You pass the information he gives you on to the team to improve the profile and get better clues about how to catch the guy. Spencer was right; Elliot trusts you, and that's why you feel responsible for his well-being. After tiring hours, he falls asleep on the couch, where you tuck him in and watch him sleep.

Spencer peaks into the room. He wants to talk with you.

You leave the little one sleeping while you go out and leave the door half open.

"You need a break. You hadn't eaten or slept in hours."

"I'm okay," you say flatly. Spencer raises an eyebrow. "I can't leave him, Spence. You know that."

"Baby, I know you're worried for him, but you need to take care of yourself too. I can stay with him for a couple of hours."

You know Spencer is right, but you don't want to admit it. Instead, you try to change the subject.

"Did Garcia locate any relatives?"

Spencer sighs. He knows the answer to your question, and it's not a good one.

"There is literally no one in his family except those who were in the house: his parents and an aunt. There is a distant cousin, but she lives in Sweden, and she doesn't even know his existence. And even if she wanted, she could not do the adoption procedures because she lost her American nationality."

That means Elliot will fall into the system, waiting for someone to adopt him. You don't even know how to respond to the news. They are devastating and break your heart.

Spencer looks at you with concern.

"Are you okay?" your husband cautiously asks, although he knows the answer from the look you return to him. It's a look that says, 'I'm not okay, and there is nothing I or you can do about it right now.'

In silence, he envelops you in a tight embrace that you reciprocate, hiding your face in his chest.

"I'm sorry," you mumble after some minutes. Spencer leans back to look at you.

"Why are you saying sorry?"

"Because I should be working my ass right now to catch the son of the bitch who did that to his parents," you pause to control the anger that starts bubbling inside of you. "Instead of being a mess and useless here."

Spencer cups your cheeks so you can look at him.

"Hey, don't say that. You are doing even more than it is expected from our job here. You are the only one Elliot has talked to about what happened, and it has given us solid leads. Beyond that, you are helping him, caring about him, and being by his side in this horrible time."

"It's so unfair, Spencer."

He knows what you are talking about and nods in agreement. You continue talking.

"And I know there are so many other children that have to go through something as horrible as this, and they, too, have no one to take care of them. But with Elliot, I - God, I don't know why it feels different with him. The mere idea of him in the system makes me sick."

Spencer feels his chest tight, but he doesn't want to be vulnerable when you're the one who needs to be comforted. He pulls your body towards him again, holding you tight.

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

A whole two days have passed, and after much insistence and even convincing Elliot to tell you not to feel bad about leaving him for a few hours, Spencer gets you to take a break. So you can take a shower, eat and sleep.

The rest of the team works full-time and around the clock to catch the unsub. With the new clues you had him identify, it was only a matter of hours before they could finally get him.

Spencer is with Elliot while he colors with crayons. On the sheet, he is painting the sky blue.

"Do you know why the sky is blue?" Elliot asks Spencer, whose lips quirked up in a smile.

"Well. It's because of something called the scattering of sunlight by the atmosphere." Elliot's eyes widen in confusion.

"Scattering of sunlight? What's that?"

"It's like when you bounce a ball off a wall, but with sunlight and tiny air particles."

Elliot giggles, picturing what Spencer just said.

"So the sun is playing ball with the sky?"

Spencer laughs, amused by the kid's imagination.

"Haha. Well, sort of. You could say that."

An excited Elliot decides what he wants to do next.

"I wanna play ball with the sun too! Can we?"

Spencer raises an eyebrow, contemplating his response.

"Maybe not with the sun directly, but we can definitely play ball later. How about that?"

"Yes! Can I get my red ball? It's my favorite!" Elliot chirps and Spencer's heart swells.

"Sounds like a plan, buddy."

Spencer's answer seems to satisfy Elliot, who continues coloring.

He doesn't have the heart to tell the kid that maybe he will have to leave soon once a child service professional gets assigned to his case.

After a while, Elliot finishes his drawing and passes it to Spencer, who examines it curiously.

In it, there is something that resembles a woman holding hands with a child. Next to it is a sketch of what appears to be a tall man, and in the blue sky, two winged figures.

Spencer asks him who they are, pointing to the drawing.

"She's (Y/N)," Elliot points to the woman holding hands with the child.

"That's me after she found me," he explains, putting his finger over the drawn kid. "That's you," he continues, indicating to the tall man.

"I look really good here," Spencer jokes. "And these? Spencer now points to the figures in the sky."

"Mom and Dad," Elliot says, and Spencer's breath hitches in his throat. "They are in heaven now and look after me. They sent (Y/N). Mom told me."

Spencer doesn't know how to respond to that, although he's curious about the last thing he said.

"What did your mom tell you?"

"When she left me in the closet. She told me I was going to be fine. That good people would find me and take care of me. And (Y/N) found me. She's good people."

Spencer's heart protrudes with pride and love as he sees how the boy recognizes you as a good person and seems to appreciate you much more than he thought.

"She is," Spencer concedes, with a little tremble in his voice.

"You like her?"

Spencer's cheeks blush. Even a 4-year-old can catch how hooked he is for you.

"What makes you think so?"

"You look at her like dad looks to mom. And my mom told me when people look like that is because they like each other."

"You're a very clever boy, Elliot. And you're right. I like her. We are married, actually. Do you know what is that?"

The kid nods, pointing to the gold band adorning Spencer's ring finger.

"Exactly."

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

After a few hours, you return to the BAU and find Elliot asleep in Spencer's arms, who is lying on the office couch.

A sad smile crosses your face. On the one hand, the image triggers so much sweetness, seeing your husband, the love of your life, taking care of a little one who needs so much love and care. But on the other hand, the certainty that there is nothing you can do to change the destiny of that little boy who, at such a young age, has already experienced such terrible things.

You are so absorbed in the image that you don't hear Garcia until she is next to you.

"This pair hasn't wasted any time. Elliot colored for a long time while he asked Spencer everything he could think of. Of course, Boy Wonder was fascinated to answer all his questions. Afterward, they gave a tour of the floor; they even ran through the hallways. They even went to play football in the parking lot. That's why they are both exhausted."

"My husband running through the hallways and playing football? Who would have thought," You joke. Garcia nods, smiling and placing a hand on your shoulder.

"How do you feel?" She also realizes how difficult this case has been for you.

"More rested, although until this is over, I don't know how I'll really deal with this."

You wouldn't have to wait long to get to that point. Just as the social worker comes to check Elliot's case and, inevitably, takes him away, Garcia gets a call from Hotch saying they have the unsub in custody.

Everything happens too fast to process, and the only thing you manage to do is sit next to Elliot while Spencer talks to Nancy, the social worker, and tells her the details of the case. The kid is awake now and telling you everything about his afternoon with Spencer.

When Nancy and Spencer peek in the door, you know what it's about. Turning to Elliot, you talk to him softly.

"Sweetheart, this is Nancy. She wants to ask you some questions. Is that okay with you?" you probe. The kid lifts his gaze to the woman at the door and frowns.

"About mommy and daddy?"

He's too smart and perceptive for his own good, you tell yourself.

"A few, yes. But you can say only what you are comfortable with, okay?"

Elliot does not look very convinced.

"Can you stay?"

Your eyes soften as you exchange a knowing look with Spencer.

"I'm sorry, dear, but I can't."

"And Spencer can stay?"

"I can't either. I'm sorry, buddy. But we promise we are going to be right outside," Spencer affirms.

Elliot reluctantly agrees, and you leave him with Nancy. Once you're out of their sight, you feel tears begin to roll down your cheeks. You turn to look at Spencer, and you see his glassy eyes, too.

He takes your hand. "Let's talk in a more private place," he tells you, entering another of the offices nearby.

Closing the door, you give free rein to your emotions and begin to sob. Spencer hugs you tight, and he cries with you. You two know you need to hold each other up right now.

When you feel you have released some of the tension, you both separate from your embrace and sit in chairs adjacent to each other. Spencer holds your hand.

You still can't believe the little boy is going to get into the system. You bite your lip in pure frustration.

"I know," Spencer says. "I don't like the idea either, but someone has to take care of him. More so now that the case is closed."

"Does the bastard even understand the damage he has caused?"

It is a rhetorical question because even if the answer were positive, it does not change the fate of little Elliot in any way.

Spencer is affected, too. During the time they spent together, he became fond of Elliot and stole his heart in the same way he did with you.

To be honest, in the last few hours, Spencer has been mulling over an idea, but he needs to talk to you first. Although he already guesses what your position could be in the matter.

"Maybe we can do something," Spencer muses, and you look at him baffled.

"We do?" you question. Spencer nods, smiling at you.

You are trying to read your husband, but his warm smile and understanding eyes won't let you anticipate what he will say to you.

With a hand stroking your cheek, he spoke next.

"Well, if you ask me, Elliot Reid has a nice ring to it."

Your eyes widen at his words.

"What? Are you saying that we- Spencer, you are suggesting that we -"

It's not that it hasn't crossed your mind. But you didn't think it was something Spencer might have considered. Although thinking about it and knowing your husband, his heart and kindness have no limits.

"We can do it. I mean, it's not going to be easy, but we could try. I think Elliot is worth it the effort."

For a moment, you're at a loss for words. Shaking your head, you are debating the idea.

"Spencer, if you only are thinking of doing this for me, it's not fair."

This time, he shakes his head before cupping your cheeks with both hands.

"Hey. If I'm suggesting the idea, it is for all of us. Elliot needs who can take care of him. And we talked about having kids a while ago, remember?"

It's true. Before getting married, you talked about it and agreed it was something you both wanted, but not yet. After two years of marriage, you had not discussed the topic again because it was tacit that you both wanted it eventually.

"Yeah, but what we talked about was me getting pregnant. This is different."

Spencer chuckles. You're right about that. But for him, it doesn't change his mind about it.

"The method? Yes. But the outcome is the same. A family. Our family."

"Are you serious about this?" You ask him, locking eyes with him as you hold his hands, pulling them out of your face.

"Absolutely," Spencer replies right away. "Is this something you want too? It won't be easy, though. There will be a lot of paperwork and interviews, and we'll have to make adjustments to our routines. And if everything goes well, we could move to a bigger house, in a neighborhood with good schools. I could lower my workload here and start teaching," he rambles, and you start giggling out of nervousness and excitement.

"I want to try this. And there is no other person more perfect than you, with whom I want to try it. I love you, Spencer Reid."

"And I love you, (Y/N) Reid."

A tender kiss seals the moment, and you're sure you've never felt so confident about doing something like this. Or at least try.

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

Spencer was right.

It took time and work.

Months passed before you got the news that you could actually adopt Elliot.

However, while the process was happening, you became Elliot's temporary home.

If Hotch did something to make that happen, nobody mentioned it.

With periodic visits from the social worker, you showed how well cared for he was and how good he adapted to your family.

You stopped working at the BAU and started teaching. Something Spencer had suggested for him, but you decided to give it a try first.

And you never have regretted your decision.

Elliot is now part of your family. The boy you found scared inside a closet can now smile again and feel safe with you and Spencer next to him.

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

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #aperrywilliams #amanda perry williams

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livwritesstuff · 8 months ago

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“Steve,” Eddie mutters, “Stop it, you’re staring.”

Steve is staring, eyes fixed on a family sitting in a cluster of seats two rows ahead of them on the commuter rail — a mom and dad with three kids, the oldest no older than ten, the youngest four or five. They’re not too much older than Steve and Eddie’s own kids (who are seven, five, and two), and by the looks of the princess dresses and mouse ears and branded souvenir bags they’re also on their way home from the afternoon Disney on Ice show at the TD Garden.

“That mom,” Steve says, addressing Eddie even though his gaze doesn’t shift away from the unsuspecting targets of his relentless judginess, “is upset because her kids are whining and misbehaving, but they asked for food and she said no, and they said they were bored and she ignored them.”

In Steve’s defense (not that Eddie would actually say any of this to him; he doesn’t need the egging on), his assessment isn’t exactly incorrect. All three of those kids are either colossally melting down or just on the verge of doing so, and both of their parents are mostly ignoring them.

“God, and they’re gonna grow up learning they can’t rely on their parents for help,” Steve continues, “I just...I just don’t get why we had to go through all those evals and interviews and home visits and shit before we were deemed suitable parents when any idiot straight couple can just have a kid with no regulation whatsoever.”

“Steve,” Eddie says through gritted teeth as he glances at their own daughters to make sure they aren’t eavesdropping (they’re not – Moe and Robbie are sitting by the window and playing with the toys they’d gotten to pick out during intermission, and Hazel is halfway to asleep in Steve’s lap), “My love — little pitchers.”

Steve only shrugs, but he does drop the subject for the rest of the train ride.

The universe must hate Eddie (or love Steve) because that family gets off at the same station as them. Hazel is completely sacked out by then, and Steve had taken her while Eddie manned the older two and they’re busy running ahead of him to the car so there’s literally nothing he can do when Steve detours away from them to follow a few yards behind the other family.

When he finally makes his way back over to them, it’s with a gleeful grin on his face.

“I knew it.” Steve says with a gleeful grin, “I knew they had to be shitty parents.”

Eddie eyebrows flew up, because – seriously, the fucking audacity on this guy.

“You know what I always say – you can either be a good parent or have a clean car, and that car was fucking spotless.”

“Steve Harrington.”

#all eddie had wanted to talk about was how they manage to turn the ice rink into a basketball court #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie dads #judgy steve my beloved #<- new tag let's party

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luvsupa · 1 month ago

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tags: neighbour!nanami x fem!reader, fluff-ish, crack, reader is in mid 20s and nanami is mid 30s, readers obsessed with nanami w.c: 800

you peek through the blinds in your living room, squinting for a better view of your neighbour. a frown crosses your face as you notice a gathering of children and mothers around his front door, which is beautifully decorated for halloween. you watch as the mothers twirl their hair and giggle in unison, but you still can’t see what your neighbour is wearing. you feel like a creep, lurking behind the blinds just to catch a glimpse of the new guy.

your heart races when you finally spot nanami. damn, he looks incredible in his costume—a vampire. you’ve heard whispers about the mysterious man who just moved in, and even the married women have been known to stand outside early in the morning just to greet him.

“do i seriously have to dress up?” you retreat from the window as you hear your nephew whine while entering the living room. you burst into laughter at the sight of him squeezing into the ghostbusters costume he wore a few years ago- the sleeves barely reach his wrists.

“well, yes!” you reply, snapping photos of him as he glares with frustration. in one picture, he slightly raises his middle finger, and you gasp, realizing he’s picking up on your habits. oops.

“i’m too old for trick ‘r treating! i don’t even wanna stay here,” he grumbles, his temper flaring as you giggle at the photos and send them to your sister, his mom, just as he threatens to rip off the costume.

“can you just behave? i’m trying to meet the love of my life,” you say, putting your phone away to prevent him from ruining your plans.

“he doesn’t even know you exist, dummy.” your jaw drops at his bluntness, and he starts pointing at you, laughing like a little brat.

“tch, you’re laughing a bit too much for someone who lost his girlfriend to a stuffed animal,” you retort, laughter spilling from your lips as he shoots you a ‘really’ look.

“at least i was in a relationship! dunno about you, hag,” he fires back, leaving you choking on a laugh. seriously, who’s teaching this kid all this at twelve years old?

you don’t say anything as you pull him toward the front door, making him put on his shoes and grab his trick or treat bag before stepping outside. your gaze is fixed on nanami’s house, now swarming with kids and mothers.

i know why you mothers are here…

“ow, let go!” your nephew winces, pushing your hand away from his shoulder as you realize you’ve been gripping him too tightly. you both end up in a long line in front of his house because these mothers won’t leave! impatience gnaws at you- you just want a chance to see him.

finally, you reach the front of the line, and you scold your nephew to behave before giving him a gentle push toward the door.

“trick or treat.” he says in an unenthusiastic tone, while you stand behind him, practically buzzing with excitement. nanami steps outside with a fresh batch of candy, smiling at your nephew’s costume. when his hazel eyes shift to yours, your breath hitches.

he definitely wants me.

“your son is so adorable,” he says.

what?

oh hell no.

“son? n-no, he’s my nephew! he was dying to come to your house,” you stammer, and he chuckles, revealing his fake fangs.

“what? you forced me—” your nephew starts, but you quickly cover his mouth to prevent him from ruining everything, sharing a warm chuckle with nanami as you stand awkwardly on his doorstep.

“d-do you have any kids?” you ask, hoping he says no. your heart would shatter if he did.

“ahh, no, i don’t—though i do wish to have a family of my own someday,” he admits, and you nod, intrigued by his almost wistful tone.

“yeaaa, i want a family with you—of my own too!” you blurt out, instantly regretting your words as his smirk widens, and your eyes practically sparkle with embarrassment.

“she stalks you everyday,” your annoying nephew pipes up, and you feel your face heat up as you wish you could disappear. nanami quirks his brows in surprise, bursting into laughter, while you stand frozen, your eyes twitching. seriously, someone needs to watch for this kid.

“heh, she’s not the only one,” he replies, and you swear you must be dreaming. nanami quickly grabs something from inside his house, scribbles on a notepad, and attaches it to your nephew’s bag of candy before handing the candy directly to you.

you’re so starstruck you can’t move as your nephew tugs on your arm, dragging you away while the interaction feels surreal. you walk past the mothers, who scoff at you, and hear him wish the two of you a happy halloween.

you glance down at the notepad he gave you:

I’ll be waiting for your call, stalker

nanami kento

you gasp, noticing his phone number written beneath it. you just bagged the hottest man alive and these mothers didn’t.

“you two are a buncha freaks,” your nephew comments as he pulls you back toward your house. honestly, you don’t care—you’re just so thrilled that you’re the one he chose.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #nanami kento x you #jjk fluff #jjk crack #kento nanami #divider from @enchanthings

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reasonsforhope · 9 months ago

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Hazel Chandler was at home taking care of her son when she began flipping through a document that detailed how burning fossil fuels would soon jeopardize the planet.

She can’t quite remember who gave her the report — this was in 1969 — but the moment stands out to her vividly: After reading a list of extreme climate events that would materialize in the coming decades, she looked down at the baby she was nursing, filled with dread.

“‘Oh my God, I’ve got to do something,’” she remembered thinking...

It was one of several such moments throughout Chandler’s life that propelled her into activist spaces — against the Vietnam War, for civil rights and women’s rights, and in support of environmental causes.

She participated in letter-writing campaigns and helped gather others to write to legislators about vital pieces of environmental legislation including the Clean Air Act and the Clean Water Act, passed in 1970 and 1972, respectively. At the child care center she worked at, she helped plan celebrations around the first Earth Day in 1970.

Now at 78, after working in child care and health care for most of her life, she’s more engaged than ever. In 2015, she began volunteering with Elder Climate Action, which focuses on activating older people to fight for the environment. She then took a job as a consultant for the Union for Concerned Scientists, a nonprofit science advocacy organization.

More recently, her activism has revolved around her role as the Arizona field coordinator of Moms Clean Air Force, a nonprofit environmental advocacy group. Chandler helps rally volunteers to take action on climate and environmental justice issues, recruiting residents to testify and meet with lawmakers.

Pictured: Hazel Chandler tables at Environment Day at Wesley Bolin Plaza in front of the Arizona State Capitol in Phoenix, Arizona, in January 2024.

Her motivation now is the same as it was decades ago.

“When I look my grandchildren and my great-grandchildren, my children, in the eye, I have to be able to say, ‘I did everything I could to protect you,’” Chandler said. “I have to be able to tell them that I’ve done everything possible within my ability to help move us forward.”

Chandler is part of a largely unrecognized contingent of the climate movement in the United States: the climate grannies.

The most prominent example perhaps, is the actor Jane Fonda. The octogenarian grandmother has been arrested during climate protests a number of times and has her own PAC that funds the campaigns of “climate champions” in local and state elections.

Climate grannies come equipped with decades of activism experience and aim to pressure the government and corporations to curb fossil fuel emissions. As a result they, alongside women of every age group, are turning out in bigger numbers, both at protests and the polls. All of the climate grandmothers The 19th interviewed for this piece noted one unifying theme: concern for their grandchildren’s futures.

According to research conducted by Dana R. Fisher, director for the Center of Environment, Community and Equity at American University, while the mainstream environmental movement has typically been dominated by men, women make up 61 percent of climate activists today. The average age of climate activists was 52 with 24 percent being 69 and older...

A similar trend holds true at the ballot box, according to data collected by the Environmental Voter Project, a nonpartisan organization focused on turning out climate voters in elections.

A report released by the Environmental Voter Project in December that looked at the patterns of registered voters in 18 different states found that after the Gen Z vote, people 65 and older represent the next largest climate voter group, with older women far exceeding older men in their propensity to list climate as their No. 1 reason for voting. The organization defines climate voters as those who are most likely to list climate change, the environment, or clean air and water as their top political priority.

“Grandmothers are now at the vanguard of today’s climate movement,” said Nathaniel Stinnett, founder of the Environmental Voter Project.

“Older people are three times as likely to list climate as a top priority than middle-aged people. On top of that, women in all age groups are more likely to care about climate than men,” he said. “So you put those two things together … and you can safely say that grandma is much more likely to be a climate voter than your middle-aged man.”

In Arizona, where Chandler lives, older climate voters make up 231,000 registered voters in the state. The presidential election in the crucial swing state was decided by just 11,000 votes, Stinnett noted.

“Older climate voters can really throw their weight around in Arizona if they organize and if they make sure that everybody goes to the polls,” he said.

Pictured: Hazel Chandler’s recent activism revolves around her role as the Arizona field coordinator of Moms Clean Air Force, a nonprofit environmental advocacy group.

In some cases, their identities as grandmothers have become an organizing force.

In California, 1000 Grandmothers for Future Generations formed in 2016, after older women from the Bay Area traveled to be in solidarity with Indigenous grandmothers protesting the construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline at the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation.

“When they came back, they decided to form an organization that would continue to mobilize women on behalf of the climate justice movement,” said Nancy Hollander, a member of the group.

1000 Grandmothers — in this case, the term encompasses all older women, not just the literal grandmothers — is rooted at the intersection of social justice and the climate crisis, supporting people of color and Indigenous-led causes in the Bay Area. The organization is divided into various working groups, each with a different focus: elections, bank divestments from fossil fuels, legislative work, nonviolent direct actions, among others...

“There are women in the nonviolent direct action part of the organization who really do feel that elder women — it’s their time to stand up and be counted and to get arrested,” Hollander said. “They consider it a historical responsibility and put themselves out there to protect the more vulnerable.”

But 1000 Grandmothers credits another grandmother activist, Pennie Opal Plant, for helping train their members in nonviolent direct action and for inspiring them to take the lead of Indigenous women in the fight.

Plant, 66 — an enrolled member of the Yaqui of Southern California tribe, and of undocumented Choctaw and Cherokee ancestry — has started various organizations over the years, including Idle No More SF Bay, which she co-founded with a group of Indigenous grandmothers in 2013, first in solidarity with a group formed by First Nations women in Canada to defend treaty rights and to protect the environment from exploitation.

Pictured: Pennie Opal Plant has started various organizations over the years, including Idle No More SF Bay, which she founded in 2013 alongside Indigenous grandmothers.

In 2016, Plant gathered with others in front of Wells Fargo Corporate offices in San Francisco, blocking the road in protest of the Dakota Access Pipeline, when she realized the advantages she had as an older woman in the fight.

As a police liaison — or a person who aims to defuse tension with law enforcement — she went to speak to an officer who was trying to interrupt the action. When she saw him maneuvering his car over a sidewalk, she stood in front of it, her gray hair flowing. “I opened my arms really wide and was like, are you going to run over a grandmother?”

A new idea was born: The Society of Fearless Grandmothers. Once an in-person training — it now mostly exists online as a Facebook page — it helped teach other grandmothers how to protect the youth at protests.

For Plant, the role of grandmothers in the fight to protect the planet is about a simple Indigenous principle: ensuring the future for the next seven generations.

“What we’re seeing is a shift starting with Indigenous women, that is lifting up the good things that mothers have to share, the good things that women that love children can share, that will help bring back balance in the world,” Plant said...

[Kathleen] Sullivan is one of approximately 70,000 people over the age of 60 who’ve joined Third Act, a group specifically formed to engage people 60 and older to mobilize for climate action across the country.

“This is an act of moral responsibility. It’s an act of care. And It’s an act of reciprocity to the way in which we are cared for by the planet,” Sullivan said. “It’s an act of interconnection to your peers, because there can be great joy and great sense of solidarity with other people around this.”

-via The 19th, January 31, 2024

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ptolemaeacles · 1 year ago

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♡ becoming hazel callahan's cheerleader gf hcs

pairing: hazel callahan x cheerleader!reader

synopsis: headcanons i have about becoming hazel's cheerleader gf.

notes: … i did rush the ending a bit because i have school and i did not proofread the entire thing but hope guys liked :))))

word count: 1.3k

i'd imagine you guys meet when you decide to join the self defense club that pj and josie were teaching.

she always admired you from afar but being the loser lesbian that she was, she never made a move on you.

eventually, the both of you got paired up to fight. poor baby was so scared she might hurt you, she barely hit you. more like slightly aggressive taps rather than punches.

"c'mon hazel! hit her!" pj yelled from behind you. you had hazel on the ground, crouched over her body. her nose was dripping blood and it was all over her teeth. no matter how many punches you threw her way, she never retaliated. not a single kick or punch was given back to you. the sight of you on top of her certainly wasn't helping her win this fight.

now that you guys were acquainted, she would get so nervous around you. of course she was always nervous around you but more so now since you actually knew who she was.

you guys would actually speak to each other in the classes you shared instead of her just staring at you. (and you taking quick glances because you're a lot more slick than she is)

hazel convinced herself you were pin straight. to her, there was no way someone so hot was gay. (god damn cheerleader stereotypes) so when she heard from isabel that you liked girls, she had no idea what to do. she had no idea what to do even when she thought you were straight but now it was 10x worse.

she started second guessing every compliment, every time your hand brushed past her when you guys were getting lunch, every single time your eyes held her gaze a little too strongly.

you always thought she was cute. even when she acted a little crazy. the whole bomb situation was actually a bit endearing to you, as concerning as that is. while everyone was in the car, yelling at hazel for setting off a fucking bomb on jeff's car, you squeezed her hand and sent a sweet smile her way. that smile alone erased any feeling of guilt or blame within an instant.

and when pj had said hazel had no friends and called her mom a skank, you were the first person running after her. you searched half the school campus before finding her hiding under the bleachers,

"haze, oh my god, i was so worried about you!" you crouched down and brought hazel into your arms. the nickname brought a warmth to hazel's heart. you were the only person who called her that.

"everything that pj said is not true at all," you let go of her to hold the sides of her face in your hands, "forget all that shit about your mom. and you have friends. you have josie, you have isabel and brittany, you have me."

hazel looked up to you slowly with a new look in her eyes.

"i don't want to be your friend." you felt your heart get heavier for a second. hazel leaned in without thinking. she caught your bottom lip between hers and-

she was kissing you. hazel was kissing you. and to her surprise, you were kissing her back.

after the unexpected love confession under the bleachers (typical high school romance), hazel decided she wanted to take you out on a proper date. it's what you deserved. (plus she's not getting caught in the 'u-haul lesbian' allegations crossfire). unfortunately, those plans were postponed.

she never told you that pj and josie lied about juvie or that she agreed to fight the school's star boxer. (you later find out she had no idea she was fighting him too.)

the aftermath of the fight was terrifying for you. of course, you had seen her bloody face before (and had even been the cause of it before) but it was never this bad.

you stayed with her for a long while after that. always taking notes for her in class and coming by her house to check up on her. the other girls would come by as well. it made you happy that they were all there for her, even after the club disbanded.

you opted to sleep over from time to time which she was always appreciated. it quickly got old when you guys could barely hear each other talk over the sound of ms. callahan and jeff going at it.

both you and hazel were in her bed, laying on your backs, next to each other. hazel laid with her hands behind her head, elbows facing outwards, and you laid with your hands on your stomach, palms facing down. both of you still giggling over a joke hazel made about your shared english teacher earlier.

"hey so, uh, i wanted to ask you something." hazel turned to face you, resting her head against her arm on her pillow.

"yeah? go for it." you turned your head to her.

"well, um, i wanted to ask if you wanted to go on a da-" hazel's question was interrupted by loud moans and rhythmic thumping coming from her mom's room.

'goddamn it...' hazel thought. it was jeff and her mom again.

"you know what, never mind, it was stupid."

eventually, the game against huntington arrived. hazel was nervous for the game and she wasn't even playing nor did she care about sports. she was going to officially ask you out. and she wasn't going to let anything ruin it this time. she watched you do your cheerleading routine, admiring your uniform. (she was obsessed with it and wanted to see you wearing it all the time. but not even batman could beat that information out of her...)

once again her plans were cut short, when a frantic pj and josie came up to her in bleachers asking her for another distraction. you were in the middle of your routine when you saw hazel running across the field towards the girls from the club. (you didn’t happen to see the little device she had in her hands)

what confused you even more was when hazel ran up to you mid-routine.

you moved your pom poms in a choreographed motion, the way you had been practicing for weeks.

the girls from the club had been running around in the corner of your eye and you couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. they looked distressed but you had to focus on your routine. that was until hazel came up to you.

she called out your name, loud enough for you to show some concern and put your pom poms downs.

“come ‘ere” she murmured. she wrapped her arms around your waist, slotting her lips between yours.

to say it took you by surprise was an understatement. you tilted your head, deepening the kiss, and brought your hands to either side of her face.

when the both of you pulled away, the mixed groans and cheers finally met your ears. but by then, it seemed you guys had bigger problems.

the fight was chaotic to say the least. the huntington players were known to be ruthless and unforgiving. throughout the entire fight, you and hazel fought back to back, constantly covering the other. more like hazel stared you while you broke a guys nose in. and your mouth definitely didn’t get a little dry when she kicked a guy unconscious.

the fight felt like it had been going on forever, especially with the way your body was aching. you and hazel looked around the field and you see tim getting on the ground, sticking his tongue onto the wet field.

“it’s pineapple juice!” he exclaimed as he got up.

you finally put 2 and 2 together.

you turn to hazel.

“we did all that for jeff?”, you huffed, “god, we’re just as brain dead as the rest of the school.” hazel chuckled before bringing her bloody, bruised hands to either sides of your waist.

“i wanted to ask you something and i’m not letting anyone ruin it this time,” she looked at you with a newfound confidence, “will you go out with me? i know it took me a long time to ask, i was looking for a good moment-“

you crashed your lips into hers, shutting her up. which she took as a definite yes.

taglist: @heartrobynn @masclover111

#hazel callahan #bottoms (2023)#hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan imagine

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steddiealltheway · 1 year ago

Text

Eddie’s eyes are brown.

At least, that’s what Steve would’ve said before staring into his eyes for…ten seconds? Thirty seconds? Five minutes? … he’s lost track of time.

But the time is certainly not wasted.

Steve’s not sure how he’s never noticed that brown eyes aren’t just brown. It’s a silly thought, and he knows that he should probably know this considering he also has brown eyes, but maybe he’s been too focused on his hair. And maybe he’s been a little too focused on Eddie’s lips…

He fights to glance down at them as Eddie stares back at him, his pupils blown wide, but every now and then when he leans a little to the side, the sunlight from the windows hits his eyes just right and his pupils contract, showing off all the color in his eyes. And Steve loves when this happens.

The brown turns into an almost amber color, deep brown highlighted by hints of warm red and orange. And at the bottom of his eyes, there’s small patches of gold standing out against the deep brown ring that circles the whole iris.

Steve thinks he could get lost in it all and stare for hours.

He leans in a little closer, trying to see more of that gold, and nearly groaning when Eddie shifts away from the light again, eyes becoming such a deep brown that Steve can easily see his reflection.

But he doesn’t want to see himself, he wants to see how that dark chocolate turns into that gold and red in the sunlight.

Then, something Steve didn’t fathom happens.

Eddie closes his eyes.

“Steve won!” Dustin shouts, as the other kids carry on loudly, and Steve is harshly startled back into reality.

A staring contest. That’s what this was supposed to be. A staring contest, not a Steve gets lost in his friend’s eyes for so long that he forgets to blink contest. Christ.

He glances sheepishly at Eddie and takes in all his features, the furrowed brow and the slight frown to his lips as Eddie tugs at a stand of hair.

As the kids file out of the room, moving onto whatever activity is going to keep them entertained next, Steve asks, “Are you that upset about losing?”

Eddie shakes his head and leans forward, staring into Steve’s eyes again. Steve fights not to look too deeply, afraid he’ll get lost in the depths forever if he gives himself the chance.

“I saw something I hadn’t seen before,” Eddie comments, looking back and forth between his two eyes.

“I did too,” Steve admits, allowing himself to stare a bit. He reaches out and pulls Eddie closer to him, getting both his eyes directly in the sunlight. “I see a whiskey my dad used to always keep on his desk, with hints of gold that reminds me of the jewelry my dad got for my mom, back when they still loved each other.”

His heart pounds at the memories, back to a time when things almost seemed normal. When he thought he would always be happy.

Steve shakes his head and glances away, unsure of how the colors he saw before could bring up the deep memories he spewed to Eddie. He changes the subject and asks, “What did you see in mine?”

He expects maybe an analysis of green and brown, or hazel as many girls tell him after staring at him for long enough to make him feel uncomfortable. He wonders why Eddie doesn’t make him feel that way.

A finger lifts Steve’s chin, turning his gaze back to Eddie whose stare sends chills down his spines. “I saw longing,” Eddie states and continues, “Was it for those things? Those memories?”

Steve finds himself shaking his head as his eyes glance down to Eddie’s lips which twitch as he swallows. “Was it longing?” Eddie asks, nervousness seeping into his tone.

Steve glances back at his eyes and nods. It’s not like he’s unaware of his deeper feelings for Eddie, but he didn’t expect to fall so hard in just a few moments as he stared into his eyes. And he definitely didn’t expect to have those emotions read so clearly in his own eyes.

Eddie’s hand slowly moves to cup Steve’s face as he says, “Steve, read my own eyes for a moment. Please see the-”

“Can you guys give us a ride to the arcade?!” Dustin yells from the other room.

Steve sees Eddie’s eyes flash with annoyance which is much different from the loving expression from before.

Loving.

Steve takes a deep breath and steps back as he hears multiple footsteps hurriedly making their way back to the kitchen.

“Did you hear us?” Mike asks, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, “Get to the car.”

He lingers back with Eddie as he watches all the kids run to his car, and when Steve gets to the door with Eddie behind him, he yells, “Give me a minute, I need to grab my wallet!”

He closes the door quickly and rushes into Eddie’s space, cupping his face, and asking, “Am I reading this wrong?”

“Not at all,” Eddie says, hope and deep longing shining in his eyes.

“Good,” Steve says, leaning forward and meeting Eddie in the middle as they hurriedly kiss, pouring in all the longing they’ve both experienced for months now but were too oblivious to see before.

(Robin laughs for minutes on end when she hears that a staring contest is what got them together when they’ve been having multiple for months without the label. Steve just rolls his eyes, but as soon as Eddie asks, “Want to have another staring contest?” He can’t resist.)

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet

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rubycruzin4abruzin · 8 months ago

Text

we can’t be friends

Summary: Hazel, who has a giant crush on you, gets paired with you for a class project. She’s convinced you could never like her back because she thinks you’re straight, what happens when she’s proven wrong?

Pairing: Hazel Callahan x Fem!reader

Contains: mature language and content, hurt/comfort, smut, fingering (both receiving), oral, scissoring kinda, floor sex, loser!hazel, dom!hazel, fem!reader, sub!reader, 18+, MDNI

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: (loosely) based off the song We Can’t Be Friends by Ariana Grande, and requested by anonymous. Requests are still open for Hazel Callahan and Kit Tanthalos! Enjoy!

———

Hazel stared at you from across the classroom, a deep longing in her eyes. Mr. G was rambling something about 9/11 and how it somehow pertained to his divorce but she wasn’t absorbing a word of his lecture. All her attention was focused on you.

PJ noticed Hazel’s obvious sense of distraction and rolled her eyes. “It’s never gonna happen, Hazel.”

Hazel’s face fell slightly as she looked down at her lap. “You don’t know that…” she mumbled.

“I do, actually. My gaydar is perfect, and she…” PJ motioned her head towards you. “…is not.”

Hazel's head shot straight up to look at PJ. “Weren’t you the one who thought Brittany was gay?”

PJ scoffed. “Ok? So my gaydar had a malfunction. It’s fine now, and trust me. You do not occupy that pretty little head of hers.” She shot a pointed look at Hazel. “She doesn’t want you. She wants a boyfriend. With a penis.”

A sad puppy dog look covered Hazel’s face as she turned back to look at you. You certainly did have a pretty little head, with long silky hair falling over your shoulders, perfectly framing your face. Maybe it was because Hazel had little to no experience with makeup, but she always thought yours was flawless, with your eyeshadow consistently color coordinated with your outfits. Today it was hot pink to match your miniskirt and pink pumps, paired with fishnets and a black tank top with writing on it that Hazel couldn’t quite make out.

You took a break from taking notes to reach into your backpack and find your lipgloss, carefully reapplying a layer. A dopey smile formed on Hazel’s face as she watched the sparkly pink solution trace your lips, wondering how it would taste against her own. PJ rolled her eyes once again. “Get over it, Hazel.”

Before Hazel could even open her mouth to respond, the sound of Mr. G’s voice echoed across the room, turning everyone’s attention to the front. He was going on about some new partner project, Hazel could barely focus. She soon, however, perked up when he mentioned your name.

“You’re partnered with Hazel.” He finished.

Hazel’s heart leapt into her throat. She turned to look at you, and you met her gaze with a bright smile. She offered an awkward nod back, and quickly looked away.

Mr. G soon finished with the list of partners and the bell rang to signify the end of class. PJ walked out with Josie, who could be heard panicking over being partnered with Isabel. Hazel was packing up her stuff for her next class when she saw a figure out of the corner of her eye. She looked up to see you standing over her desk, a glossy grin spread across your face. “Hey Hazel.”

Hazel tried to swallow, but found her mouth was completely dry. She managed to squeak out a low “…hey.”

“Looks like we’re partners for this assignment. I wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to work on it after school? Today?” You brushed a lock of hair out of your face, making Hazel wish she could do it for you.

She licked her dry lips and nodded enthusiastically. “Sure.”

You pressed your phone into Hazel’s shaking hands and you both exchanged numbers before “bye’s” and “see you later’s.” Throughout the rest of the day, it was agreed over text that you would meet at your locker after school before heading to Hazel’s house to work on the project. You had originally suggested your place, but after Hazel mentioned her mom being out of town on business, you were all for meeting at her’s instead.

When the last bell rang, Hazel ran to the bathroom and spent fifteen minutes fussing over her hair, trying to get it to swoop just the right way. Unfortunately, PJ’s voice saying “she’s not gay, it’s never gonna happen” rang through her head. After deciding it just wasn’t worth it then, she gave up and dejectedly made her way over to your locker.

You were already there waiting for her, and seeing you lean against your locker in the empty hallway made Hazel’s heart flutter. You looked just as perfect as you had earlier today (except Hazel could’ve sworn you had pulled your black tank top just a little farther down). You noticed her approaching you, and flashed her a bright smile.

“Hey Hazel, ready to go?” You asked. Hazel nodded. “Sure.”

“Great! I’m excited to be paired with you. I’m sure after this project we’ll become great friends.” You lifted your hand to squeeze Hazel’s upper arm, but she couldn’t feel it over the pang in her chest. Your words swam around in her mind.

“Great friends…” she didn’t want to be your friend. She wanted to be more. She wanted to be the one to laugh with you, and hold you when you cried. She wanted to take you out on dates, and slow dance with you at prom. She wanted you to look up at her with your big doe eyes right before you kiss her, and wrap your arms around her shoulders to pull her closer while she savored the taste of your signature lip gloss. She wanted to touch you. God how she wanted to touch you…

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t do any of that. Not if you were too busy making goo-goo eyes at some football player.

You wanted to be friends. Hazel wanted you… but more than anything she wanted you in her life. If being friends was the only way to do that, then so be it.

—————

The drive to Hazel’s house was pretty much silent, minus a few attempts at small talk from you. Hazel made a few attempts to respond, but mainly kept her focus on the grip of her steering wheel and the road ahead.

Hazel turned into her driveway, and walked you through her front door, up the stairs, and into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She motioned for you to sit next to her on the floor, and got out her pencils and the project rubric. After about five minutes of complete silence, Hazel’s head shot up. “Snacks!”

You looked up from the rubric in confusion. “What?”

“Snacks! I forgot to offer you snacks when we came in. Shit, I’m sorry! I’m a terrible host.” Hazel panicked. You had to stifle a giggle under your hand. Somehow, Hazel was being so adorable right now.

“It’s ok, Hazel. I’m not hungry. I promise.” Hazel rubbed the back of her neck as a faint shade of red crept up on her cheeks.

“Sorry. You just…” Hazel trailed off. You cocked your head in question. “I… what?”

“You just… sometimes you make me nervous…” Hazel mumbled, staring down at her lap.

Your lips parted slightly in shock at her confession. “I make you nervous?”

“Look… just forget I said anything.” Hazel picked the project rubric back up. “So, do you have any idea what this project is supposed to be on? I wasn’t really paying attention…”

You pulled the rubric out of Hazel’s hands and tossed it to the side, forcing her to look at you. “I’m not gonna forget what you said. Hazel, how do I make you nervous?”

A defeated sigh left Hazel’s lips as she realized you weren’t going to give this up. She squeezed her eyes shut, choking out your name before her next words. “I’m sorry but… we can’t be friends.”

It took a moment for you to process Hazel’s words, but as soon as you did, your face crumpled out of hurt. You were trying not to cry, but you couldn’t decide if it was from hurt or confusion. “What do you mean?”

“We can’t be friends.” Hazel repeated, refusing to make eye contact with you. “Whenever I’m around you, my hands get all sweaty and my mouth gets dry, and I can barely get any words out because… I don’t know. You do this thing to me. I can’t focus in class because all I can think about is how pretty you are and what flavor your lip gloss is and…”

Hazel’s incessant rambling was interrupted by the feeling of something wet and sticky against her cheek. She blinked, trying to process what just happened.

You kissed her. On the cheek.

A faint blush crept onto her face as she lifted her hand to feel where your kiss still lingered. She finally met your gaze to see you staring back at her, a giddy smile covering your face.

“You kissed me.”

You brushed another lock out of your face and smiled down at your lap. “Yeah. I did.”

“But I’m not a boy.”

You shot your head up and gaped at her, bewildered. Did you hear her correctly?

“Huh? I know…” you trailed off as realization set into you. “You think I’m straight?”

“Well, yeah. You’re all like… feminine and stuff…” Hazel mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

A thick silence filled the room as you stared at her, wide eyed. Hazel held her breath and refused to look at you. She thought for sure she fucked up before she heard… laughter?

Hazel looked up to see you in absolute stitches from laughing so hard. On one hand, she was glad you didn’t seem mad at her, but on the other… she really had no idea what you were laughing at.

After a moment, you calmed down, and stuck out one of your wrists to show Hazel a pink, white, and orange threaded bracelet. “Trust me, I’m not straight. And this…” you gestured to your outfit. “…is called hyperfem, and it’s actually meant to deter the male population.”

Several thoughts swirled around Hazel’s mind. Some “fuck PJ” or “how did I not notice the bracelet?” But mostly, all she could think about was how you were sitting in front of her, out and proud, in an empty house, and beaming from ear to ear.

You giggled at Hazel’s astonished expression and looked down at your lap. “I was kind of wondering why you had never talked to me before. Guess I know now.”

Hazel gulped. “I’m sorry, I…”

Suddenly, you decided to cut her off by tossing all the papers between you to the side, and crawling over to her lap. You put one hand on her knee and brought your face as close to hers as you could without touching. Hazel’s breath hitched at this new position, and you hummed as your eyes dropped to her lips. “Now that you know I’m gay… what do you plan to do about it?”

It took a moment for your words to settle into Hazel’s mind, but as soon as they did, she brought her face forward and kissed you, melting instantly at your touch. Her stomach filled with butterflies as she shivered from the pure adrenaline. She couldn’t believe how soft your lips were, and the taste of your lipgloss felt absolutely intoxicating.

You pulled away suddenly, smirking as Hazel whined at the loss of your touch. “So… what flavor is my lip gloss?”

Hazel hummed in thought, running the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip. “Watermelon?”

“Bingo.”

A devilish grin spread across Hazel’s face before she grabbed your jaw and pulled you back in, forcing you to tuck your knee into her lap to keep balance. Her tongue danced against your bottom lip, begging for entrance. A small giggle escaped from the back of your throat as you parted your lips and let her deepen the kiss.

Hazel’s hand left your jaw and slowly made its way down to gently caress the thigh you still had perched in her lap. You felt your body shiver at this new sensation, causing Hazel to pull away and survey your reaction.

“Is this ok?” She asked in a low voice. You nodded, your half-lidded eyes clouded with lust. “Please.”

Hazel caught your lips in hers again, and gripped at your fishnet-clad thigh. You moaned at the feeling of her fingertips caressing your nearly-bare skin. You had no idea your thighs could be so sensitive, but here you were, falling apart at her literal fingertips.

By now you were mentally begging Hazel to push her hand up just a little higher, so you grabbed the chain around her neck and pulled her close until you were on your back and she was hovering over you. Her big blue eyes looked like pools you were dying to swim in as she peered down at you with a look of nothing but content.

You dragged your top teeth against your bottom lip and giggled. “Tell me again how pretty I am?”

Hazel smirked as she continued to rub her thumb along the inside of your thigh. “So pretty. Like a princess.”

Your body involuntarily shivered at this new nickname, and Hazel found it impossible not to notice. “Oh, you like that? Princess?”

A muffled moan vibrated against your puffy pink lips in response. Fuck, when did Hazel get so… dominant?

She ran her hand just under the edge of your tank top, looking up at you for approval. You nodded, and she got to work pulling it up and over your head, leaving your stomach exposed and your chest covered with nothing but a black lace bralette. Hazel gulped at the sight of you, her spontaneous dominance momentarily leaving her. She swore she had never seen anything this beautiful. She leaned down again to kiss you once, softly and sweetly, before slowly leaving a trail of kisses to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, and down to the top of your breasts.

Hazel’s big blue eyes stared up at you as she ran her tongue across the top of one of your tits, gently testing the waters. You let out a gentle moan, purely from the eroticism of it all. You swore you could cum just from looking into Hazel’s fuck me eyes.

“Hazel,” you breathed out, sitting up slightly to lean on your elbows. “You can take it off.”

A nervous look clouded Hazel’s features for a brief moment before being replaced by one dark with desire. “Whatever you want, Princess.”

God, you could feel yourself get wetter every time she used that stupid nickname.

Getting your bra off wasn’t necessarily a fast and flawless task for Hazel, as she was used to the simplicity of sports bras rather than the confusing clasps of a bralette. Luckily, you both had a good sense of humor about it, which made the situation far less awkward. Eventually, Hazel opted to just pull it over your head like a t-shirt, tossing it over her shoulder immediately after.

Hazel never thought she’d see the day where she’d have the Popular Princess of Rockbridge High’s tits practically served to her on a silver platter, but here they were, exposed in all their glory, and hers for the taking. She took one of your nipples in her mouth, running her tongue along the erect bud as she used her hand to gently massage the other. It felt incredible, but as much as you loved watching Hazel Callahan play with your tits, there was another part of you that was much more desperate to be played with.

Your hips involuntarily bucked against Hazel’s stomach, forcing her to pull away and click her tongue disapprovingly. “So impatient. Never took you for a sub.”

“Never took you for a dom.” You fired back, surprisingly quickly considering how mushy your brain felt.

Hazel simply shrugged and flashed a wicked grin. “Guess you do something to me.”

She slipped one hand down to the waistband of your skirt and started to undo your belt buckle until it was loose enough for her to slide it down your legs. Her fingers danced along your now completely exposed fishnets while she plucked at the delicate little strings.

“Funny,” she started, gently pulling at the thin threads. “If you weren’t wearing anything under these, I would totally keep them on while I fucked you.”

Her blunt choice of words sent palpitations straight to your clit, forcing a shiver down the length of your entire body. She either didn’t notice or pretended not to because she just shrugged. “Too bad you are. Gotta take them off.”

In a way, you were grateful for the black panties you had worn under your fishnets. Watching Hazel undress you to any capacity was a bigger turn on than anything any porn site had to offer. You made a mental note to wear more clothes next time.

By now you were down to nothing but the aforementioned silky black panties. Hazel moved her hand back to your thigh, rubbing her thumb along the inside teasingly. She reached up and allowed her finger to gently brush over the tiny crease where your leg ended and your panties began, looking up at you for affirmation before continuing.

You sighed, rolling your bottom lip between your front teeth. “Please Hazel. Please touch me.”

Hazel’s stomach couldn’t help but flutter every time one of your desperate pleas hit her ears, but she tried not to let it show. Still, it was difficult to ignore the dampness in her boxers, thankfully still hidden by her shorts. On the other hand, your panties were on full display, the black color managing to hide your wet spot from Hazel’s vision, but failing to keep your secret when she dragged her finger up your clothed cunt.

“Holy shit.” Hazel muttered under her breath. “So fucking wet already?”

You were far too turned on to even begin to respond to her taunts, opting instead to raise your hips and signify Hazel to take off your panties. Hazel, however, had other plans. She continued to stroke the length of your covered cunt, enjoying watching your hips stutter every time she so much as grazed your clit.

As much as you loved the cloth friction rubbing against your slit, the growing pool of wetness that resulted was beginning to make you feel suffocated. You lifted your hips to chase her touch, moaning with desperation. Hazel smirked, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Patience, pretty girl. I can’t do anything until you tell me what you want.”

Hazel’s finger picked at the waistband of your panties, while her darkened eyes stared down at you. You struggled to speak, your brain far too mushy to form a complete sentence. How in the hell were you this fucked out, and Hazel had barely touched you?

“P-please Haze… I need you mph… take them off…”

Another wicked grin appeared on Hazel's face as she leaned down again to praise your obedience. “Such a good girl.”

Her mouth latched onto your jaw as her fingers curled over the top of your waistband. You raised your hips, and Hazel pulled off your panties in one quick motion.

Now that you were completely exposed, you felt completely exposed, which wasn’t necessarily the most comfortable feeling. Your legs began to shut involuntarily, catching the attention of the girl hovered above you.

Her eyes went wide as she crawled off of you and put her hands up. “Hey, woah, are you ok? Do you wanna stop? I’m sorry! I should have checked in more. We can stop if you want. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Hazel’s sudden transition out of her dominant alter ego caught you off guard. Still though, you couldn’t help but melt a little. She was being so sweet, making sure you were ok, you almost felt a little bad for her. You didn’t mean to freak her out.

You sheepishly smiled up at her, a little embarrassed. “I’m fine. Really. It’s just a little weird being the only one naked is all.”

Hazel blinked at you, processing your words. Almost like a lightbulb went off in her head, she jumped up and practically tore all the clothing off her body, throwing each piece over her shoulder as soon as it was off. You couldn’t help but notice a string of arousal momentarily connecting her slick to her boxers, breaking only after she slid them down her legs.

Hazel’s body read like a painting, with each brush stroke precisely positioned to perfect the masterpiece. Her wetness glistened from in between her legs, and you couldn’t help but admire the beauty standing before you. However, you didn’t get to admire for long, as Hazel was already repositioning herself over you.

“Better?” She asked.

You sighed. “Definitely.”

Hazel immediately got to work trailing kisses down your body while thumbing through the folds of your slit. Soft moans echoed from your lips every time she’d slightly dip into your entrance for some more lubricant, and then frustrated groans would roll out whenever she immediately pulled out. God, she had access to every part of you and still managed to be such a tease.

Eventually, Hazel kissed her way down to your pelvic bone, hovering her face just over where you wanted her the most. Her hot breath tickled your dripping wet folds, making you tremble with anticipation. She stuck out her tongue and gently kitten-licked your clit to gauge your reaction, staring up at you as she did. A soft whimper left your throat, causing a smug smirk to form on Hazel’s face. Starting to gain some confidence back, she locked eyes with you and slowly licked up the entire length of your cunt, from your entrance all the way to the hood of your clit. You whined, throwing your head back against the carpet.

“Feel good?” Hazel asked, not bothering to wait for your response as she already knew the answer.

Hazel dived into you like a starved woman, lapping up your slick like it contained the very thing she needed to survive. Broken moans fell from your parted lips as you desperately grasped at her hair, trying to keep her exactly where you wanted her. Your hips bucked against her face, a part of you dying to see her features covered in your juices.

Her name found its way out of your mouth, almost involuntarily. “Hazel I… mph… fuck…”

“Fuck yeah. I love it when you say my name, pretty girl.” Hazel exclaimed, eyes rolling in the back of her head. You groaned. Dominant Hazel could have very easily put you into cardiac arrest, you were pretty sure.

The feeling of Hazel’s tongue against your engorged clit was hypnotizing, but your entrance was also twitching for attention. You wanted, no, you needed her inside you.

You grabbed Hazel’s hair and pulled it to lift her off you. She started to whine at the loss of your taste, but quickly looked up at you to make sure you were alright. “Everything ok, princess?”

“Hazel, I… I wanna ride your fingers. Please.” You panted breathlessly.

Hazel’s body shifted at your bold choice of words before a dark desire clouded her face again. “Of course.”

She reached up and crashed her lips against yours again, the taste of your own pussy still lingering on her tongue and coating your mouth in the most arousing way. You both readjusted to where she was on her back and you were now hovering over top of her. She adjusted her right hand in the “come here” position with her middle and ring fingers standing, and rested it in the middle of her thigh.

“All yours, honey.” She looked up at you with a goofy smile and half lidded eyes.

You positioned your entrance over her fingertips, shifting slightly before sliding down onto her knuckles. Hazel's fingers curled to hit your g-spot, forcing your head to fall back with a throaty groan.

“Feel good, gorgeous?” Another one of Hazel’s praises fell from her lips.

“Fuck Hazel, those nicknames are gonna kill me…” you whined.

Hazel smirked. “Oh yeah, you like that? Gorgeous? Pretty girl? My princess?”

As you were drinking in Hazel’s sweet nothings and riding her long fingers, your eyes fell down to her lap. Her exposed cunt glistened with her own arousal, dripping down her thighs and onto your carpet. A wicked idea popped into your head, and you couldn’t help but smirk.

Your hand traveled down to the folds of Hazel's slick, forcing the brunette beauty underneath you to jump at the sudden touch. “Honey, what are you…”

“Is this ok?” You asked softly. Hazel nodded quickly, realizing what you were getting at. You hastily licked your fingers and slid them into her twitching cunt.

Hazel moaned at the feeling of your fingers inside her. “Fuck, baby. Feels so good. So good to me.”

The longer you bounced on Hazel’s hand, the more you felt that familiar tight feeling in your abdomen. “Hazel, I’m…”

“Yeah… mph… me too.” She managed to whisper under her breath.

Hazel positioned her thumb to rub against your clit, forcing your body to tremble in sputtered shocks. You curled your palm to stimulate her clit, and you could tell she was almost as close as you were.

“Hazel, can we… mph… cum together?” You asked, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth.

The brunette underneath you was already starting to fall apart. “Fuck baby… so close… let go… I’ll follow… yeah?”

You rolled your hips against her, using your free hand to position her wrist where you needed her to touch you. Your hips sputtered, your core tightened, your clit throbbed. “Hazel, I… mph fUCK!”

Your head rolled back as you let out a sound so primal, you weren’t even sure it was sexy. Hazel soon followed, her groans and whimpers reverberating around the room as her hips sputtered under you. You rode out your climaxes together, the erotic sounds of sex disappearing into the nearly empty house.

Hazel couldn’t believe it. Not only was her longtime crush gay, not only was she fucking you, but she had just given you a mind-blowing orgasm at the same time you gave her one. Fuck, the very thought almost made her cum a second time.

You rolled off of her, and snuggled into her chest while she wrapped her arm around you. “Wow…”

“That was… unexpected…” Hazel muttered breathlessly.

You giggled. “Yeah, no kidding.”

A comfortable silence filled the room, both of you just enjoying the presence of the other, the project from before long forgotten.

You looked up at her, planting a soft kiss on her jaw. “Still think we can’t be friends?”

“I think we’re a little more than friends now.” Hazel chuckled.

Your heart fluttered at her suggestion. “Yeah? You want to?”

“I mean, yeah, if you want to.”

You nodded, snuggling back into her chest, close to falling asleep after so much activity. Hazel continued to stare up at the ceiling, a goofy grin plastered across her features.

“PJ is gonna lose her mind after this.”

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan smut #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x reader smut #kit tanthalos #ruby cruz #ruby cruz x reader #sapphic #fanfic #hurt/comfort

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dixons-sunshine · 1 month ago

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Trick Or Treat | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was that time of the year. An event you loved celebrating as a child, one you wished to teach your own daughter about. You wanted to make her first Halloween memorable. Meeting a potential new friend was only an added plus to that.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: No apocalypse.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU.

Warnings: None, really. Small mention of death.

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: Hi, hello @dix0nvix3n. Thank you for allowing me to add your AU into my AU. I hope I managed to capture your reader and her daughter at least half decently. Also, this fic concludes my participation to @lazyneonrabbitt’s Halloween challenge. I hope y’all like this!

“Trick or treat!”

“Oh my gosh, you two are adorable! Power Rangers, right?”

You smiled at the children that beamed up at you, their expressions screaming that they only wanted candy, but they were polite nonetheless. The kids’ mom smiled at you, her gaze drifting down from your face to the little girl in your arms—yours and Daryl’s one year old girl, Hazel River Dixon, dressed up as a little hazelnut, in honour of the affectionate nickname given to her by her father.

“Aww, well isn’t she just the cutest little thing!” the woman cooed to the baby girl in your arms, successfully coaxing a small smile from Hazel.

“Thank you,” you replied to her statement with a smile, acutely aware of how cute your daughter was, before chuckling when you noticed the impatient looks on her two kids’ faces. You picked up the huge bowl of candy that rested on the table next to your rocking chair, and extended it towards them. “Here you go.”

The kids laughed and reached forward to grab multiple candies from the bowl, before placing them in their respective pillow cases. “Thank you!” the both of them echoed in sync, before giggling and running off down your porch steps.

The mom laughed lightly. “Sorry. Have a nice Halloween!”

You waved to her as she walked away. You sighed and leaned back in your rocking chair, holding Hazel close to your chest as she closed her eyes. You smoothed your palm over her back, pressing a soft, tender kiss on top of her head.

“Tired, Baby?” you asked rhetorically. She did not say anything—not that you had expected her to—but she nuzzled her face into your chest in response. You chuckled fondly at her. “I know, Sweetheart. Daddy and I will put you to bed in a bit, okay?”

Hazel opened her eyes and looked up at you, before her eyes drifted to something over your shoulder. She smiled happily, her chubby cheeks pulling up to reveal her adorable dimples. You did not have to turn your head to figure out who was behind you. The familiar touch of your husband soon rested on your shoulder, along with a soft press of his lips to the top of your head.

“How’s my girls doin’?” Daryl inquired in an affectionate tone of voice, a softness reserved only for you and your daughter evident in it.

You turned your head to peer up at him, sending him a small smile. “We’re good. Hazie is tired, though. I think after the next family comes up, it’ll be time to call it.”

“That’s probably for the best, yeah. S’gettin’ pretty late,” Daryl agreed. He reached forward and gently ruffled the wispy hair on Hazel’s head, smiling fondly when he successfully elicited a giggle from her. “How ‘bout I get her a bottle?”

You nodded in agreement to his suggestion. “That would be great. Thank you, Dar.”

“Ain’t nothin’, but yer welcome.” He leaned down and pressed one last kiss to the top of your head, doing the same to Hazel, before disappearing into the house with his task in mind.

You turned your attention back to the busy streets of your neighbourhood in King County. You felt content as you watched parents walk around with their happy, bubbly children, waving to one of the mom’s and her child, who was in the class you taught. You had a few regrets in your life, but if there was one thing you did not regret, it was agreeing to buy this house in the small town. It was a big adjustment to the bustling city life you had grown accustomed to whilst living in Atlanta, but you did not mind the change. The move was needed, especially after all the bad things that happened over the past two years.

You shook your head to rid yourself of the unwanted negative thoughts. You did not want to dampen the good mood you had sported the whole day. Daryl was fine now. You did not need to worry anymore.

Your salvation from your steadily wandering thoughts came in the form of a mom and her daughter. You smiled at the outfits they were wearing, thinking to yourself that it was truly amazing. Morticia and Wednesday Addams from The Addams Family. They absolutely nailed the outfits.

“Hi!” you greeted the pair enthusiastically, getting up from the rocking chair and smiling at the mother and daughter duo. “Morticia and Wednesday Addams, right?”

The mom smiled at you brightly, and nodded. “Yeah!” She nudged her daughter slightly, who giggled and looked up at you with a bright smile. “It was her idea. She even got her dad to dress up as Gomez. I wish you could see his costume. He had to run into the corner store for something, though.”

“It’s okay. If your outfits are anything to go by, I bet his is just as amazing.” You jiggled Hazel slightly when she began fussing, shushing her quietly with whispered words of reassurance. “Sorry. She’s tired. She usually has no trouble falling asleep around noises but she wants to stay up and greet all her new friends, it looks like.”

The woman waved you off with a reassuring smile. “It’s fine. I get it. My husband and I did something like this with Delilah when she was about her age. She got a bit fussy towards the end, too.”

“The Halloween when I was a pumpkin?” the girl—Delilah—asked with a big smile, laughing softly when her mom nodded. “Awesome.”

You grabbed the bowl from the table with one hand, extending it towards Delilah. “Here you go, Sweetheart. Take as much as you want.”

“Really?” Delilah asked with a bright smile.

You nodded. “Of course.” Delilah reached forward and grabbed a handful of different candies, placing them in her basket. You noted that she did not go back for a second handful, and you smiled. “That enough, Sweetie?”

Delilah nodded. “Yes, thank you. I don’t wanna take more than my share. Other kids might want some more.”

“That’s really considerate of you. You’re so sweet,” you complimented her, placing the bowl back on the table.

Delilah’s mom smiled at you. “We try to raise her right.”

“Well, you’re doing an amazing job.”

“Mama, I see Daddy!” Delilah exclaimed excitedly. She turned back to you momentarily, not forgetting her manners. “Thank you, ma’am!” Then she sprinted away, rushing towards her father. You could vaguely make out his figure, but other than that, you could not see anything else.

The mom smiled at you and shook her head. “I should probably go. It was nice meeting you… I never caught your name.”

“Y/N,” you replied. The woman repeated her name to you as well, and the two of you exchanged handshakes. “It was nice meeting you too. I’m sure I’ll see you around. Hit me up if you ever wanna go for a drink or something. You know where I live.��

She chuckled and nodded. “I’ll definitely take you up on that offer.” Almost instinctively, her eyes drifted down to Hazel, who you had cooed at quietly a moment ago to soothe her fussing, successfully coaxing a giggle from her. “She’s absolutely precious.”

You looked up from Hazel and looked up at the woman. You noticed a look in her eyes, one that you could only classify as nostalgia. It was a look you were all too familiar with back when you had visited your mom when she was still alive. Your heart went out to the woman. You could see how much she loved her daughter, and seeing Hazel must have transferred her back to the days when Delilah was Hazel’s age. You got emotional looking back at pictures of Hazel when she was a newborn, almost a year prior. You were sure you would be in her boat soon enough.

“Thank you,” you thanked her with a smile. “She’s my absolute pride and joy.”

“I can tell,” she replied, a sweet smile on her face. “Well, I have to get going now, for real this time. It was nice meeting you. I’ll see you for that drink soon. I’m not letting that one go.”

You chuckled and shrugged. “I don’t mind. Just tell me when.”

“Will do.” She sent you one final smile. “It was really nice meeting you. I’ll catch up with you another time.”

With that, she walked away and met up with her husband and daughter, leaving you alone on the porch once more. With one last wave at her and Delilah, you turned around and grabbed the bowl from the table again, deciding to call it a night. Hazel had rested her head against your shoulder during your exchange with the mother and daughter duo, but she had not fallen asleep yet. However, you were sure she would do so after her bottle.

You walked into the kitchen, where you found Daryl testing the heat of the milk against his wrist. He looked up when he heard your footsteps, and sent you a small smile.

“Done for the night?” he asked softly.

You nodded and placed the bowl of candy down on the counter in your kitchen. “Yeah.” You walked towards Daryl and leaned back against the kitchen island, rubbing Hazel’s back soothingly. “We’re both beat, her probably more than me.”

Daryl chuckled and reached forward to gently take Hazel from your arms. Hazel made no protest, melting against her daddy’s chest almost instantly and making grabby hands at the bottle in his hand.

“Let’s get her settled down for the night,” Daryl suggested, bringing the bottle up to her mouth and laughing when she eagerly latched onto it. “I think she agrees.”

“That sounds like a good plan.” You pushed yourself away from the kitchen island and motioned over to the leftover candy in the bowl. “And then we can overeat on a bunch of stuff that’s probably not good for us.”

“Now that,” Daryl began, “sounds like a good plan.”

Taglist: @holdmytesseract (comment/DM me to be added/removed.)

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saltandburnheathens · 8 months ago

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Good morning Miss Winnie.

Part II

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader.

Rating: Gen.

Summary:

You've just given birth to Dean's baby and are a enjoying a quiet family moment in the days afterwards.

Notes: Non-canon, no time line. And I don't ever want kids. But I just became an aunt and I sort of need to get this out of my system! Short and I'm not promising that I won't continue this. Who knows really. Finally this was written after I'd taken my usual nightly gummy.

The bunker was quiet first thing in the morning except for the usual hum of the circulation fans. You’d been there so long that they barely registered anymore, and you were extremely thankful that the consistent noise wasn’t a problem for the baby. That would have been a horror show. Trying to navigate parenthood with a baby awoken by the simplest of sounds.

You shuddered at the thought.

Life was always loud when you lived with Dean Winchester and his posse of colour characters. Between unexpected visitors and the brothers coming and going at odd hours, there was something new every day and often that new wasn’t good.

But in that moment things were perfect. The monsters outside didn’t exist and you were a regular mom with a new baby and a husband who loved you. His bother Sam and best friend Castiel were an added bonus, the former serving as an unexpected asset when both you and Dean needed some rest.

You crept carefully out of bed, your body still feeling weak, and quietly crossed to the crib by the wall. A set of hazel eyes stared up at you and your heart melted.

“Good morning Miss Winnie.” You cooed, “Let’s get you up and at ‘em before you wake daddy.”

You heard a small scoff followed by the shuffling of blankets.

“Winnie?” Dean asked with a sleep-laden voice, “We ain’t calling her Winnie, sweetheart. I’ll accept those new-agey-hippy-names like Kendell and Kloe with a K before I’ll take Winnie.”

“I’m just calling her that until we choose a name.” You laughed, lifting the little girl up into your arms, her head coming to rest on your chest, “And Winnie is short for Winchester in case you hadn’t pieced that together.”

“I don’t care if it’s short for ‘daddy’s-little-angel’, it ain’t happening.”

“I’ll cross that off my list then shall I?” You sat back on the bed, Dean coming up to nest beside you and his eyes immediately going to the baby in your arms.

He smiled, creases forming at the corners of his eyes.

“You’re not a Winnie, are ya’ princess?” In that voice he seemed to only have adapted five days ago after the birth of your daughter; that voice reserved for her.

“Maybe not. What about Meghan?” You suggest.

“Oh nope. No can do. Knew a Meg once. Demon.”

You nodded knowingly. No one wanted to name their child after a monster.

“Stevie?” Dean carried on, his eyes still fixed on the baby.

“Like Stevie Nicks?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not seeing it. Samatha?”

“Already got one Sam in this bunker and that’s more than enough. Alice?”

“Can’t do it. All I’ll keep hearing is ‘who the fuck is Alice’, and I don’t want my kid to be subjected to that for the rest of their life.”

You both laughed, interrupted only by the whine building in the little one’s chest. You quickly jumped to action and proceeded to the morning routine you’d been adjusting to since getting back home. Dean followed you, rubbing at his eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve had hangovers that made me feel quite as bad as waking up five times at night.” He yawned.

You handed him a dirty diaper and smiled as he grimaced.

“You can go back to bed if you want. I can manage by myself.”

“Sweetheart, you just damn near broke your pelvis giving birth to my kid a few days ago. I’m in this from start to finish, and if that means running on caffeine and a prayer, then I’m game. Even for the diapers.”

Dean rummaged through the first drawer of their dresser and pulled out a small onesie covered in colourful dinosaurs. He held it up in front of him and smiled.

“It’s hard to believe how small she is, huh?”

“She didn’t feel so small coming out of me.” You quipped, taking the clothing from him to finally cover the squirming child on the changer, “I’m pretty sure my vagina will never be the same.”

“That’s blasphemy.” Dean gasped playfully, “But seriously, baby, the doctor said that it’ll take a few weeks before you start to feel normal.”

“Normal is subjective when you’re postpartum.”

Holding his baby tight to his chest, Dean lent down and kissed you softly on the lips. His green eyes fluttered up to meet yours.

“Let’s face it, ain’t nothing normal about either of us in the first place.”

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dad!dean winchester #dad!dean

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bubbleberryuniverse · 4 months ago

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- GHOST PERI AU -

(AKA Petrified!Peri because that name is cool as FUCK.)

REFERENCES ALSO AVAILABLE HERE!

REGULAR COLORS / HIS BODY [NOT GHOST]

GHOST COLORS / HIM AS A GHOST

SO. You may be asking, "what happened to him?" And I am here to EXPLAIN! :]

This AU is still a fairly [pun unintended] big WIP, so some details are still all over the place/undecided, and some may change over time; constructive criticism, opinions/thoughts, questions, are all appreciated!

The general idea is, well... divergent from the finale. What if, after the chip is grabbed and Hazel, Wanda, [and maybe Cosmo? I don't recall if he goes with them/ends up somewhere else] go to fix the wand, Peri explodes. And it gets undone when Hazel wishes to fix Fairy World. Buuuttt... not quite!

It wasn't her 1 Millionth Wish that she used up on Fairy World— which is why it Doesn't Quite Fix Him Going Kaboomey. But I imagine that having 1Mil Wishes had a mild influence on What Happened and why exploding DID get fixed... sort of. [I need to brainstorm specifics on this.]

ANYWAY.

Peri looks GENERALLY normal most of the time, except for, well, *gestures at reference.* Outside of THAT [cracked wand, cracked crown [crack hidden by the glow], slightly off color pallete], there's some other stuff that's just a Hint of Wrong.

Like coughing up confetti and/or rainbows [without any other sign of magical backup [which he can't experience anymore because he did technically already die via backup.]] And sometimes the funny silly wacky expressions that happened during buildup [big ol' eyes/pupils, star shaped pupils, funny faces [like when he was talking to Dev.]

Throwing this in here. Sometimes he just stares like the TBH Creature. It's kinda silly kinda funny. I need to make a Petrified!Peri TBH emote because that fits well.

I was ALSO thinking about the idea that sometimes limbs can detach [the ghost fairy in that one ep is what gave me this thought], mostly for expressive purposes/fun silly purposes. It can be seen in this image here! Still DEBATING on this, though.

ANYWAY.

Cosmo and Wanda Don't Know He Died [because of not being right there] But something Is Off. Peri probably doesn't at first either until they [themself] put it together through context clues, and then they're like, "ooohh no, mom and dad probably don't know I exploded!" And he gets REALLY nervous about them finding out because that'd be A Lot and he doesn't want to Worry Them [because... he fucking died.]

So. There's a lot of him just trying not to Act Suspicious. Which only makes them both concerned! I have so many silly funny interactions between them that I imagine, actually!

Like...

Peri: *Talking. Suddenly... star pupils!*

Wanda: Um. Sweetie?

Peri: Hey do you see that?

Cosmo: Oooh, see what?

Peri: Over there! *Points.*

Cosmo + Wanda: *Looks over.*

Peri: *Disappears.*

WHICH. YEAH. SO. GHOST FORM. They're completely hidden when they're actually a GHOST, and has no wand/wings when they're a ghost, either [they do have wings normally, I just forgot to include them in the reference.] And I imagine whenever they poof into their ghost form that they leave a tiny bit of confetti behind!

ALSO.

He reassigns himself to Dev on his own [who didn't forget after the finale.] And his magic is kind of fucked up. Cause he's DEAD and look at his fucking WAND. So wishes kinda get fucked up when granted a bit sometimes ehehehaha...

ANYWAY.

I am also dumping my Peri headcanons onto him. They're transmasc nonbinary and use he/they pronouns and they're also aroace! :3

PLEASE. PLEASE send me any asks if you have any questions! You don't have to ask to draw them, either— just tag me in any art if you ever make any, please! :]

#fairly oddparents a new wish #fairly oddparents #fop #fop a new wish #fopanw #fop:anw #fop: a new wish #fairly oddparents: a new wish #fop au #periwinkle fairly oddparents #perwinkle fairywinkle cosma #peri fop #peri fairly oddparents #fop poof #alternate universe #fop spoilers #petrified!peri au

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thesunisatangerine · 1 year ago

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against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part nine

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: mentions of grief, suggestive material, hurt/comfort

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 6.6k

words in italics: whatever language you like

Before this misunderstanding could get any bigger, you stepped in quickly.

“Alexia, this is Elisa, my daughter and that’s my brother’s husband, Robert. Elisa, Robert, this is Alexia.”

At that, Alexia’s gaze softened but when she met your eyes, questions swam in those hazel pools, ones that you sensed concerned your daughter. You gave Alexia a tight-lipped smile in answer–this was neither the time nor place to talk about something like that.

“Oh, I see. It’s nice to meet you both,” Alexia spoke in English.

She walked closer to the stands to where Robert stood and reached out a hand for him to shake. Robert–who finally got some of his color back after Alexia stopped leering at him–regarded Alexia’s hand with an uneasy look like it was something dangerous before he eventually shook it. Then Alexia turned to Elisa and offered her a closed fist while your daughter only gawked at Alexia, obviously starstruck. “And it’s nice to meet you, too, Elisa.”

Elisa remained still and unusually quiet so you coaxed softly, “ladybug?”

That seemed to snap Elisa out from her starstruck stupor and as she came back to herself, her eyes darted to you. You smiled at her, encouraging, then you tilted your head at Alexia’s direction. Slowly, Elisa bumped her fist against Alexia’s, cheeks reddening immediately as she scurried off behind Robert right after, peeking through the gap between her uncle’s hip and arm to look at Alexia shyly.

“Do you want me to sign your shirt?”

Elisa nodded. Robert passed the shirt to Alexia, who signed it, before she passed it back to Robert.

“Thank you,” came Elisa’s bashful gratitude.

When your eyes flitted back to Alexia’s face, you found her brows tilted upwards which allowed the stadium lights to brighten her already fair eyes. She looked on at Elisa’s timid display with warmth and the sight of such softness in her demeanour tugged at your heartstring.

Without tearing her attention away from Elisa, Alexia said through a small smile, “she’s adorable, no?”

“She’s a little shy but she’s actually a big fan of yours. You should see her practicing your moves–”

“Mom…” Elisa whined, stopping you from embarrassing her further. You sent her an apologetic smile before you mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’ to her.

“Oh, you play football? How old are you?” Alexia asked softly.

After a moment of silence, you took the helm when you noticed Elisa wasn’t going to answer. Her reaction to Alexia was completely understandable. Alexia, despite being one of the warmest people you knew, could easily intimidate some with her presence due to her reserved and stoic nature. Her gaze–especially for the ones who were new to meet her–could be so intense and disarming that it was hard not to look away or, in this case, shy away from her.

“She turned twelve last February. And yes, she’s actually enrolled in a Barça Academy located near our city.”

Alexia’s brows rose with interest. She regarded Elisa again as she spoke, switching to Spanish this time, with clear approval in her tone. “So she has Blaugrana in her blood. What position does she play?”

“Barça is by far her favorite club and it doesn’t help that you play in it. And she plays forward.” You answered in the same tongue.

Alexia hummed, the corner of her lips quirking up. You knew that look so when she turned back to you, you raised a brow at her.

“What? Disappointed she doesn’t play midfield like you?”

She flashed you a sheepish half-smile and rubbed her cheek with a finger, a gesture that you still found so endearing, before she threw her hands up in false surrender. “I’m just saying! And you can’t really blame me for having a bias.”

“No, of course not. How could I hold that against you?” You said in an excessively dry tone. What you didn’t expect was for Alexia to throw her head back as laughter bubbled out from her throat in a familiar melody that tickled your ear, and you couldn’t help the grin that made its way to your lips at her amusement. She looked so beautiful like this: her hair–now back to its light brown shade–untamed with the way baby strands clung to the slight dampness on her temple, and the rosy blush painted upon her cheeks and nose from the events that just occurred; she looked so carefree in this moment, in the aftermath of their victory, that the glow of her youth shone right through, unfiltered.

When your eyes flitted over to Elisa and Robert, you found them gaping at your interaction with wide eyes, looking very much unsure on what to make of it. Then you also realised Alexia’d stopped laughing and she was now looking at you with a small smile on her lips. Your cheeks warmed at the attention, at having been caught staring, so you casted your eyes down to your feet, clearing your throat as you kicked an invisible pebble.

It surprised you, the ease with which you were able to fall back in playful banter with Alexia as if the fifteen months that made strangers from the both you never existed. Alexia must’d thought the same thing because when you looked at her again, Alexia’s smile had dimmed somewhat but the warmth in her eyes never left.

“Congratulations on the win, by the way. You earned it. All of you did.” You said, indicating at the golden medal around her neck. The urge to hug her as you spoke pervaded you but you managed to brush it off.

Alexia looked down at it, her lips quirking up into a small proud smile.

“Thank you.” A pause as she regarded you. And then, “want to hold it?”

The suggestion took you aback and you were quick to dismiss her. “Oh, no, I’m good–”

Alexia, being Alexia, stepped into you space anyway, took your right hand and placed the medal on your palm. You tried not to focus too much on how her touch electrified you by focusing on how the surface of the metal cooled your skin, its weight surprisingly heavier than it looked, and you traced its intricate engravings with the pads of your fingers, admiring the details.

“Can we talk?” Alexia said in a low voice that only the both of you would be able to hear. She was standing less than an arm’s length away from you–when did she get so close?–and the softness you found in her hazel eyes when you gazed up at her made you want to reach out and brush your thumb over the skin beneath them.

At your silence Alexia touched your right wrist and you felt her thumb grazed ove the bracelet she gave you. Her gaze was magnetic and you were powerless against her pull.

You began, “I–”

“Alexia! Come on, we have to go!” Both of your heads turned to the voice. It was Misa who was waving Alexia over to where their other teammates were gathering. Alexia gave Misa a gesture to wait and she looked back at you again but with desperation now in her eyes.

“Go. I’ll be in Barcelona for a week starting next Thursday. We can talk sometime then?”

Alexia nodded, gave you a small smile before she turned to walk away. She startled you when she faced you again and before you knew it, her arms were wrapped around your shoulders.

“Same place?” She whispered in your ear.

You snaked your arms around her waist.

“You know where to find me.”

So it was then on this late, warm Friday evening in Barcelona the week after the Olympics final, you found yourself opening the door to Alexia.

You had agreed to meet the next day for lunch so it was more than a surprise to you to find her under the warm glow of the porch light right then. And before a word could even leave your mouth to voice your confusion, Alexia strode into your space, crowding you until your back hit the cool surface of the wall next to the door as it swung close.

Alexia was in front of you now, the distance between you so sparse that you could feel the heat that emanated from her body. You stared up at her, breathless when you were finally able to speak, “Alexia–”

“Are you seeing someone right now?” Her tone was even though the crease in her brows and the fervid depth in her eyes made you shiver.

“Wait, what are–”

“Just answer me!”

“No! Why–”

Before you knew it, her hand cradled your jaw as she brought her lips to yours, and the only thing you could do was gasp from the sudden heat of it all. It was filled with such ardour, Alexia’s kiss, that each movement of her lips threatened to both destroy and mend you again, each pull as devastating and as sweet as the last. But the sweetness didn’t last long; not after you felt the warmth against your cheeks and tasted salt on your tongue.

Alexia was crying.

She was aching, you knew it–could feel it in the slight quiver of her lips, in the frantic way with which her fingers tangled in your hair. And from her pain came yours, unfurling from your heart, into your throat, longing–reaching–to comfort and be soothed by her, your almost lover. Though it hurt, it made your teeth ache with the bittersweetness of it all because here she was breathing the same air as you, sharing the same heat as her lips melted with yours, and, god, how it felt like coming home–like the first breath once you breached the surface after being submerged for so long.

Was this what it felt like to be exhumed? Was this what life tasted like?

The kiss was slow and deep, the way only two almost lovers knew how to; the both of you took your time mapping each other’s lips, learning how to move in the same rhythm again. It was familiar but the tenderness–that gentle ardour–was above all else amplified, warming your flesh and blood to a delicate simmer.

You sighed against Alexia’s lips as you pressed your body further into her, and in response she to you, and you relished how in spite of the strength that rested beneath the firmness of her self, everything about her remained, oh, so soft. And it was this want for more closeness that prompted you to tighten the grip around her hand that cupped your jaw, an unspoken plea for her to not let go–to not let you go.

How had you gone on for so long without her touch?

A familiar scream ruptured the silence, shattering the moment instantly.

It was automatic and immediate your reaction to it: you tore yourself from Alexia’s embrace and rushed towards Elisa’s bedroom, ignoring the way your vision blurred from the sudden exertion, your lungs protested as you hurried up the stairs. You were already expecting it but like all the times you were faced with it, your heart broke all the same at the sight of Elisa sitting up by the headboard of her bed, spine crooked as she curled in on herself, head lowered to the top of her knees while her hands pressed against her ears. Upon your intrusion, she lifted her head to reveal wide eyes that darted to you, frantic at first, but the apprehension in them dimmed when she saw you.

You tried to compose yourself as you approached her slowly, before you placed yourself just by the edge of her bed.

Gently, you called out, “ladybug?”

Not a second later did Elisa throw herself into your embrace and immediately hid her face in the crook of your neck, her hands clawing and gripping at the fabric of your shirt while her sobs made rattles from her bones. All of her self was tense, taught and coiled, her pain’s physical manifestation–all the intangible grief violently wrought into existence.

Elisa clung to you as she cried and you could do nothing in the moment but offer comfort through your embrace, hugging her just as tight, brushing back her hair–consoling–as you began a common lullaby in her mother tongue, rocking her to its gentle rhythm in the hopes that it could salve the wounds of her past even a little.

In her own time, Elisa emerged from the throes of her grief, her grip on your soaked shirt loosened, her sobs now reduced to hiccups and sniffles. You carded your fingers through her damp hair and wiped the sweat that lined her forehead.

As softly as you could, you whispered, “want to talk about it, ladybug?”

Elisa didn’t answer as she seemed to gather herself, gnawing on her lower lips, brows creased in a pained frown. You were about to remind her that she didn’t have to when she answered in a voice so small that made the rawness in it all the more pronounced.

“I saw Mother’s… I saw her dead beside me again.” She cuddled closer to you before she continued, “it’s always been her but when I looked this time I–”

Fresh tears sprung to her eyes, they fell when she squeezed them shut, and your heart broke a little more. You were quick to hug her tighter, pressing a kiss on the top of her head to console her. Elisa sniffled then she continued, “this time I–I saw you instead. I saw you dead.”

Elisa whimpered and she clung to you again.

“Oh, ladybug. That must have been difficult to see.” You hugged her tighter. “Were you scared?”

Nod.

“What were you scared of?”

Silence.

“I was scared because I thought I was alone again. I was scared you left me, too.”

Her answer made you pause and you regarded her, your worry now twofold.

“What else do you feel, Elisa?”

“I don’t know,” Elisa shrugged. She pressed a fist to her chest, “but it hurts right here. I hate it. I want it to disappear. Why does it still hurt so much?”

The state of her pained you enough as it was but how much more agonising this must be for Elisa? So you pressed your temple on her head as you began, soft but firm when the words passed through your lips.

“It aches so it’s not surprising you want it to go away. And you hate it because it stays with you. And it hurts because you’re still grieving, Elisa. A year may feel like a long time but what happened to you is not an easy thing to move on from. You’re still trying to heal.”

“If there is part of you that’s telling you it’s your fault your family died, I want you to remember that it isn’t. It isn’t your fault. You were so loved, Elisa, and you loved them just as much. And you still are loved.”

“I won’t leave you. As long as we’re here–your Uncle Derek, Uncle Robert, Nana, and I–as long as you want us to be, we’ll be your family and we love you. And death might come for all of us, and it is scary, terrifying and painful most times, but our love will never fade. The love given to you and the love that made you, they will never leave you, Elisa. Love comes and goes, and it may change its form, but it is never lost. You’re right here with me and you’re safe, and I love you. You’re never alone, ladybug, don’t you ever forget that.”

Elisa turned her head to look up at you and in the warm glow of her nightlight, you saw her chin quiver. “Promise you’ll never leave me?”

“As long as I breathe, I promise.”

You pressed a kiss on the top of her head, on her temple, then on her forehead before you hugged her again. Elisa sagged in your embrace as a watery sigh escaped her lips, and though she sniffled, she shed no more tears.

“I love you, too, Mom.”

In response, you kissed her forehead.

“How are you feeling now, ladybug?”

“A lot better, thank you.”

“Do you need me to get you anything?”

“Water, please?”

“Okay. Do you want to come with me downstairs or are you alright with me going for a bit?”

Elisa thought about it before she said, “I’ll be alright here.”

You smiled at your daughter, half encouraging and more than proud, as your chest filled with warmth at her display of bravery. You stood, grabbed a fresh shirt from her closet and placed it on her lap so she could change out of her damp one. “Okay. How about you change into this while I’m gone, hmm? I’ll be right back.”

She nodded and you darted out of the room but not after you placed another kiss on top of her head and squeezed her knee for reassurance. So engrossed were you in your aim that you nearly ran into Alexia who was just standing off to the side of the doorway, an unopened bottle of water in hand. As soon as she saw you, she offered it to you without a word with a soft look in her eyes made warmer by the dim, yellow glow of the wall lamp beside her head. It was a simple gesture but your heart expanded from the thought behind it, so much so that you nearly cried when you took the bottle from her.

“Is there anything else you need?” Alexia whispered as she stepped into your space, brushing the back of her hand over your cheek gently. You leant into the comfort of her touch and sighed, before you shook your head in answer.

“This is more than enough, thank you.” You met Alexia’s gaze one more time before you knocked on Elisa’s door and slipped back into it upon her consent. Once inside, you opened the bottle and gave it to Elisa and as she sipped from it, you ventured into her closet again to grab a small towel to dry her sweat with.

“How do you feel, ladybug?” You asked as you ran the towel over her face and the back of her neck.

“Sleepy,” she said with a small smile. You returned it in kind.

“Do you want to try going back to sleep? I’ll stay here if you want.”

Elisa yawned her agreement as she nodded so you tucked her in. Then you reclined against her headboard and began a lullaby, gently dragging the back of your finger in the space between her eyes until her eyelids fluttered close before her breathing deepened and eventually evened out. You remained there until you were certain Elisa had fallen asleep completely before you slipped back out, making sure to leave a slight gap between the door and the frame just in case Elisa woke up again.

It wasn’t a surprise when you found Alexia still patiently waiting out in the hall, who pushed herself from the wall she was leaning on upon seeing you.

“Is she okay?” She asked softly, looking over your shoulder at Elisa’s door, concern apparent in her tone and the crease between her brows.

“She’s… she’ll get there. She’s been through a lot for someone so young but she’s getting better.” It was getting frequent again, you noted with more than a hint of worry, Elisa’s recurring nightmares about the horrors she’d witnessed. You knew you needed to talk to Elisa about her therapy and if she’d be inclined to take more sessions to unpack this because there was only so much you could do to help her.

“What happened to her?”

You looked at Alexia at that, unable to answer her–had no desire to if you were being honest. How could you come up with the words to explain it especially when doing so would lead to questions about what happened to you? And that was something you truly didn’t want to, or even knew how to, talk about.

Alexia must had found something in your eyes because she just nodded at your reticence and casted her gaze down. You grazed your knuckles over the back of her hand, partly in appreciation for her respect and partly for her to follow you, while you stepped past her to the stairs down to the living room, Alexia’s footsteps not too far behind you.

The both of you entered the living room in silence, the tension from what transpired between the two of you upon Alexia’s arrival and the weight of what you were about to talk about made the air thick for breathing.

With crossed arms you settled on the wingback chair on the far side of the coffee table while Alexia situated herself on the other at the opposite side, leaving the couch unoccupied; the memories in it far too intimate for two people who’d grown apart.

During this reprieve, you finally allowed yourself the luxury to take Alexia in. You didn’t really get the chance to, it had all been a blur the moment she strode through the door, but now your eyes roamed over her freely.

She had a pair of low rise denims on, a leather jacket over a white shirt that revealed a strip of her stomach while her loose, light brown hair framed her face. Even when sitting down, her character remained undiminished especially with the way she sat with her legs parted, one hand hanging over the chair’s arm while the other was on her chin, fingers splayed over her lips as she regarded you quietly in a fixing gaze that left you feeling exposed–vulnerable.

Alexia brushed her lower lip with her fingers as she sank further against the upholstered back of the chair, tilting her chin up slightly as she kept her eyes trained at you. Her movement caused the warm glow of the light to touch her lips, drawing your attention to them, and you noted how they still glistened from the sheen of your lip balm from when she’d kissed you before, and the reminder made you burn, unpleasant in the way it ached, a bittersweet mixture of your immense desire and longing for the woman before you. It was intentional the way she moved; you knew it from the way Alexia’s eyes challenged you to speak up but you couldn’t quite find the words to say–you didn’t dare to.

“Are they real?” Came the question.

It was low and even, how Alexia posed it, but the abruptness with which the silence was broken made you flinch. That didn’t go unnoticed by Alexia it seemed because her gaze immediately softened.

“Are what real?”

“What you wrote in those notes you left me. Are they?”

The silence that settled in the space between you pressed against your chest, made even heavier with the weight in Alexia’s eyes. You tore your gaze away from her and you didn’t dare look back up.

“Look at me and tell me those didn’t mean a thing and I’ll leave.” ‘Just like you left me’, you heard the words Alexia left unspoken and then she continued, “I’ll leave and I won’t bother you again.”

She was serious. You knew if you lied and told her otherwise, she’d keep her word; she’d be out of your life completely. Were you willing to run? Were you ready to live a life without her for good?

Still without meeting her eyes you voiced barely above a whisper, “I… I can’t.”

Then you heard Alexia draw a breath, long and deep, followed by the unmistakable rustle of clothes before the air stilled once more. Not a moment later though a choked sound broke the quiet and immediately, your head whipped to the sound and found Alexia now bent forward, elbows resting on the top of her knees, her head bowed into the cradle of her open palms while her hair formed a curtain around her face.

“‘What’s happening to me? I’ve not know desire like this–like how it is with you. How, then, can I go on without you now that I found you?’” Each word came out strained as her breath stuttered and yours, too, hitched at what Alexia just recited. Then she lifted her head up a fraction but it was enough for you to see the undisguised pain reflected in those eyes and the sight of them made yours burn.

“You didn’t even give me a chance. You wrote and left those words to me but what was I supposed to do with them? What was I meant to do?”

A pause.

“I thought I knew what feeling lost was like. My ACL taught me that and when my father–” Alexia screwed her eyes shut as she drew in a heavy breath. She continued after a moment, “but after you went away, I felt lost again. I didn’t know what to do with myself, didn’t know how or what to feel. All I knew was I was mad at you for leaving, for what you said to me, for not responding… I was hurt. And I felt so empty that I didn’t look through that damn bag you left me.”

“But I missed you. God, I missed you, so I opened it and what did I find? Your fucking notes.” Alexia laughed, flat and void of any warmth, and she shook her head as if in disbelief, digging the heels of her palms into her sockets before looking back at you with raw eyes. “‘With every kiss, every touch, I become more yours. If you ask me to, I will surrender myself to you.’ If you truly meant that, why did you leave?”

“Won’t you even tell me why?” Alexia repeated, now pleading.

“I–” You began but the words caught in your throat as you turned her question over in her head because why, why did you leave?

“I was… I was afraid.” You admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Afraid of what?”

“To hear that I meant nothing to you, to know I felt more for you than you did for me. I was just one of your girls, right?” You laughed bitterly, hating the way tears immediately fell down your cheeks, as you looked over Alexia’s shoulder, unable to look her in the eye as you spoke. You were weak enough as it was, so bare that one word from her could make you bleed if she wanted to.

“I couldn’t bear to hear that from you so I left. And perhaps it was cruel of me to leave those notes behind but I didn’t want to take them with me. I didn’t want the reminder of what we had and what we could’ve been. And I guess, deep down, I just wanted you to know how you made me feel because even if it ended, even if it meant nothing to you, that doesn’t change the fact that you made me happy.”

“‘Nothing?’ What do you mean–” Confusion first swam in her hazel eyes but her eyes suddenly widened. “That day… you were there?”

You hastily wiped your tears away with the back of your hand. “Yes.”

“Oh my god,” Alexia whispered as she lowered her head even further, fingers digging into her scalp as she shook her head. You heard her mutter something in Catalan that you couldn’t quite understand, barely catching the familiar Spanish words for ‘kill’ and ‘two’ from whatever she said.

Then Alexia gazed up at you with fire in her eyes. “If what we had meant nothing to me, I wouldn’t be here. Whatever you heard that day, there’s no truth to it.”

“All of it? Then tell me, what did Mapi mean when she said I’m one of your girls?”

At that, Alexia opened her mouth before closing it again, then she casted her gaze aside.

Your heart dropped.

She wrung her fingers, the muscle in her jaw ticked while her frown deepened but she found the courage to look you in the eye again as she began to speak. “After I got injured, I was a wreck. It was one of the lowest points of my life. I felt like I was stuck, like my life was playing out in front of me and I couldn’t do anything but watch.”

“The world moved on but I couldn’t. I couldn’t get past it, what happened and what would come after. It was a constant one step forward, three steps back. So I… I slept around because I needed control. I was spiralling when you met me and it’s–it’s true I had others while I was with you.”

Oh, how her words branded you! Perhaps there was still a small part of you that hoped Alexia would deny it but as the words spilled from Alexia’s lips, that vision was immediately dashed and in its place bloomed anguish. Your eyes burnt as you took Alexia in, she–with her lips pressed in a thin line and the corners of them crooked downwards, brows furrowed so deep her eyes were almost covered–looked guilty and in as much pain as you upon her own admittance.

“I had others but not after the first time we had dinner together. At that point, I stopped. I stopped because I hoped… I hoped that we could be more. I still do. But it never meant nothing to me, you never meant nothing to me. I just want you to know that.”

You bit your lip as her words sank in, and your stomach dropped even further as you realised something. The falling out, it was all your fault, wasn’t it? If you’d just talked to her, none of this would’ve happened.

The silence must had lasted longer than you realised because you heard Alexia’s whispered plea, “please, say something.”

“I… I want nothing more than to be with you, Alexia. In my mind, it had always been you and instead of telling you, I didn’t do anything. I didn’t make my intentions clear and it was unfair of me to expect you to know them. I was going to–I was going to ask you to be mine that night but when I heard you say those words, I lost it.”

Tears tracked down your cheeks as you choked out, “I’m sorry. I broke us, didn’t I?”

Alexia was quick to answer.

“No, you were scared and hurting. I can’t hold that against you. And it’s not just you, it’s not like I was very vocal about what I wanted either. I should’ve told you what you meant to me, I should’ve made it clear what I wanted from this–from us.” Alexia looked into your eye with an ardent disposition that made you shiver while a small, hopeful smile graced her lips. “I still want you. If you still want me, have me.”

Her declaration moved you and this wasn’t the first time tonight that her words made your heart ache–fed fuel to the fire that was your yearning. The temptation to accept her offer was too much but you stopped yourself; the logical part of you who knew that you weren’t the same person as the one Alexia met prevented you from saying yes.

“I’m not the same person I was from before, Alexia. And I have a child. I don’t want you to trick yourself into thinking you want what comes with me just because you want me.”

“Then let me in! Let me know this version of yourself and don’t decide for me if I want or don’t want to be with you. Let me make that choice this time.” Alexia said, almost exasperated in the way she threw her hands up but desperation weighed heavier in her voice. “We don’t need to label it. You’re mine and I’m yours, isn’t that what matters?”

“And if it doesn’t work out?”

“And if it does? And now that we know what we want from each other, it’s not like how it was before.” Alexia countered easily. Then she added with a half smile, teasing. “C’mon. I thought you’re the optimistic one in this relationship?”

You couldn’t help it, you smiled at her lightness. Then you nodded.

“Okay. So, can we start over slow?”

“That sounds good.” Then Alexia grinned, mischievous with the way she brushed her thumb over her nose and how her dimple gilded the corner of her lips. “Hi, I’m Alexia. What’s your name?”

The absurdity of what she said caught you off guard, even more so the laughter that bubbled out from your throat. As your laughter faded and Alexia’s grin dimmed to a small smile, a vacuous silence settled over the both of you, a welcome reprieve from the weight and tension that filled the air moments ago. Your eyes roamed over Alexia’s figure in silent appraisal, and hers over yours, as you mapped the familiar contours of her silhouette. Then you noticed a change in her demeanour: her eyes darkened, a look you were well acquainted with fifteen months–a look that your body remembered all too well with the way your flesh burnt.

“Did you have others?” The question took you aback and you were sure that you weren’t able to hide the surprise from your face because where the hell did that come from? Still, you indulged her.

“Not in the way you think. I can’t even kiss anyone without thinking of you. It’s not fair to them if I take them on as my lover when I know I’m still hung up on you.”

“‘Still’, huh?” Alexia hummed in response and her gaze only became darker, eyes now lidded.

You scoffed at her arrogance but it lacked any real bite because it was true anyway. Your cheeks warmed at her attention and you crossed your legs, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Alexia–the way she bit her lower lip made it known to you she knew just what she was doing to you–before you casted your eyes aside, down to the floor. “Don’t be an ass about it.”

At the sound of clothes rustling, you looked back up only to find Alexia had already crossed the distance and now stood an arm’s length away. Your body, always in tune to her presence, parted your legs before you could think better of it and Alexia claimed what little space between you, her knees now against the edge of the chair.

She planted both hands on either side of your chair’s arms as she leant down, craning her neck so that you could feel the warmth of her breath against your cheek.

“I’m being serious.”

The words were whispered so close to your lips that you could feel the heat of hers as they brushed over yours.

“I tried. But you… you had others, didn’t you? I saw the photos.” You tilted your head, relished the way Alexia followed and ghosted over your lips as you did so, whispering the words against her jaw.

She shivered.

“One. Just the one before I read your notes.” And she leant in again and this time, you could almost taste her lips from how close she was to you. “She never touched me. And besides, who do you think she looked like?”

An image of the woman came to your mind. You didn’t realise it then but now her resemblance to you became apparent: the colour of her hair and the length of it, the colour of her eyes, her height. They were all similar to you.

“But you touched her.” It wasn’t a question and the silence that followed was confirmation enough. You didn’t hold that against her–couldn’t–but it hurt you still. You didn’t even know you’d teared up until Alexia swept her thumb over the corner of your eye, soft and careful; apologetic. And then a fire sparked in you, an all consuming green that prompted you to ghost your lips back to Alexia’s neck. You didn’t miss the way her pulse jumped when you left a light kiss there.

“Tell me, Ale. Did she feel better than me?”

“No,” Alexia choked out and the heat of it warmed your ear.

A kiss to the corner of her jaw. “Did she moan your name like I did?”

“No.”

You placed another kiss to the lobe of her ear before you whispered, low and cruel, and obscenely shameless.

“Did she come for you like I did?”

That did it.

Alexia took the back of your head in her hand and pulled you in for a kiss. A soft moan left your mouth–or was it from Alexia–as you surrendered to her heat, melting instantly and lips parting for her and her only. You felt her other hand creep down to the small of your back where she pulled you forward, urging you to stand up. When you did, and without breaking the kiss, Alexia manoeuvred the both of you until you felt the soft texture of the couch against the skin of your calves.

You pulled away with a gasp and before Alexia could upon her eyes, you stepped aside and pushed her just enough for her to end up on the couch, eyes flying in surprise at the sudden change of position. She opened her mouth, as if to protest, but she quickly shut it when you straddled her lap, hands automatically over her jaw and neck as you sank into her lips again.

Alexia dragged her lips away from yours and you were about to sigh in disappointment until you felt her tracing the lobe of your ear with her tongue. Then she nipped along your jaw as she whispered, a smile clear in her voice, “that’s right… You like being on top.”

You shivered as her hands traced your silhouette but when you felt her hands move from your ass to the edge of your shirt, brushing against the skin of your back with clear intentions, the haze lifted immediately as apprehension filled you. The words didn’t even leave your mouth before Alexia stopped her ministrations, pulling away from your lips gently, and she opened her eyes, which revealed at first the deep desire in them, now replaced with concern as she met your gaze.

“Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

Shaking your head, you placed a slow, lingering kiss on her lips before you broke away again, breathing heavily as you rested your forehead on hers.

“I’m sorry. And no, you didn’t. It’s not that I don’t want you because I do. God, I want you so much, you don’t even know, but I’m not–I think we’re going too fast and Elisa…” You trailed off, cheeks warming.

Without another word, Alexia fixed the hem of your shirt so the strip of exposed skin was covered, and placed a tender kiss on your cheek. Then she shifted beneath you, shrugged off her leather jacket and placed it on the coffee table, before she lied down.

A gentle hand on your back urged you down on her chest and upon doing so, you sighed as a sense of peace washed over you and you found yourself sinking into her tender warmth, into the safety of her arms wrapped around your waist.

She brushed back hair from your temple and you felt the flutter of her hum against your cheek before you heard it. “Are you comfortable?”

The gesture made you ache and you feared your words would fail you if you spoke so you only nodded, nuzzling the column of her neck with your nose and placed a kiss there as a form of gratitude.

Alexia pressed her lips on top of your head and then you heard her sigh, content. “Good.”

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n:#i told yall last time words will be spoken so here they are finally #kept changing my mind on where to put some of the scenes/dialogues. i cut out a pretty juicy one from this part for future use (hopefully)#dead tired but i finished it yall 🥲 i dont have fresh eyes atm so extra sorry for any mistakes in grammar/prose/spelling etc.#hope you guys like this and would love to know what you think about the story so far #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

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calicough · 1 year ago

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hi hi hi :) could u maybe write a thing abt like reader and hazel being childhood friends who slowly start to fall for each other but don’t say anything for a long time and then maybe they get into an argument of some kind and confess their feelings??

idk if you’ve done something like that but it just crossed my mind!

sour grapes – hazel callahan

— your scent is still unripe and green.

childhood friends to lovers. fluff. yearning. kind of long!

hazel could still remember the first time she became your friend. it was back in kindergarten. you had just moved into town and you were the new kid. but to her, you were known as the kid with the mcdonald's strawberry shortcake keychain where her hat slides to the side to reveal a lip balm.

little hazel was collecting all four characters— she had around 3 orange blossoms, 2 ginger snaps, and at least 5 angel cakes —but she couldn't get her hands on the strawberry shortcake one because it's always out. so when she saw your strawberry shortcake dangling from your backpack, she came up with a plan that she spent two days devising; she'll steal your keychain in exchange for one of her angel cakes.

of course her plan didn't work. it was snack time when she found herself in front of your backpack, smiling at the sight of strawberry shortcake. she was about to take the keychain off after applying the balm on her lips rather messily when she heard a loud gasp behind her. hazel quickly turned around to see you already stomping towards your teacher. "miss sandy!"

panicking, hazel ran after you and pulled on your hair to try to stop you. it did stop you, but it also made you start crying. a concerned miss sandy marched towards where you were standing. "hey guys, what's happening here?" she crouched down to your eye level while rubbing your back to calm you down, her pretty pink floral dress creasing. "what's wrong sweetie?"

"hazel was trying to steal my strawberry shortcake and she pulled my hair," you pointed at her as tears came out of your eyes and snot came out of your nose. you were sobbing so hard that miss sandy didn't understand a single word you said, but deduced that it had something to do with your keychain. you had gotten it on your birthday. you liked strawberry shortcake but you weren't much of a big fan, you only liked her strawberry scent on her head. but nonetheless, it was a birthday present and you cherished it with all your heart.

when you saw hazel's bag with an angel cake keychain, you were elighted because you both have a lip balm keychain from mcdonald's. you wanted to become her friend but you were too shy to approach her that's why you planned on sharing your grapes with her that day. which is why your heart sank when you saw her hands about to take strawberry shortcake off your bag that has your grapes in it.

"i didn't mean to!" hazel started crying as well, her mouth and cheeks glistening under the light because of the lip balm. she was embarrassed that you caught her in the act and was nervous that you would hate her for eternity after this incident. after your mothers were called to school by miss sandy to discuss what happened and after hazel got scolded by her mother, the both of you found yourself sitting across each other in mcdonald's with your moms. mrs. callahan lightly nudged hazel to apologize, which hazel hesitantly did. "i'm sorry," she looked down at her lap, kicking her little feet as you stare at her.

"honey, what will you say?" your mom cooed, nodding towards hazel's direction. you didn't want to forgive her for what she did. that keychain was still yours and you're stingy when it comes to things that belongs to you. but then you felt bad because you wanted to be her friend and you'd gladly share your lip balm with her if only she had asked you in the first place.

she noticed that you took a pink item out of your mother's bag. it was the strawberry shortcake lip balm keychain. "let's share," you grinned as you hand her the keychain. hazel looked at you with wide eyes, her blue eyes shining in excitement. the two of you played in the playplace after that.

from then on, you and hazel were inseparable. every trip, every dinner, your family and hazel's family were together. the both of you would also have sleepovers at each other's place. most of the time, you preferred to stay over at hazel's. you would spend hours on playing tekken or grand theft auto or bratz on her playstation before getting scolded by mrs. callahan for staying up late.

as years went on, your friendship grew closer and closer until it doesn't feel like friendship anymore. hazel was the first one to have this epiphany back in ninth grade. she couldn't pinpoint the exact moment but one day, everything about you seemed loud; in a good way. you were radiating like sunbeams in the sky, blinding hazel by your beauty and your presence. since then, she keeps forgetting that you've been friends for years. who could blame her. you always took her breath away every time you'd smile.

confused at this newfound feeling, hazel decided to keep this feeling all to herself. after all, it would probably go away soon enough.

she thought it would go away. she really hoped it would. but it never did. there have been multiple instances where she was so close to confessing, but the fear of getting hurt by your rejection and the fear of your friendship ending would always stop her from doing so.

you realized that you were falling for hazel during the year the fight club was created. you were inseparable up until this point in your lives as she became more busy and involved with the club as one of its founding members. when she invited you to join, you rejected her invitation, joking that you don't want to ruin your beautiful face. she somehow took this joke very seriously and distanced you from the club, eventually distancing herself in the process. this, of course, hurted you but it didn't come as a surprise. hazel seemed to be walking on eggshells around you. at first, you thought nothing of it. you became concerned when it continued after that. you found it weird as she had never acted that way before but you brushed it off, assuming it was nothing.

it was lonely without her and it would be a lie to say that you weren't jealous of her club. she's your best friend since kindergarten, why is she spending more time with them than you? they don't know her like you do. from your point of view, it seemed like she was too engrossed in the club that she forgot that you existed. but from her point of view, she was suffering from not hanging out with you despite preoccupying herself with the club to get you out of her mind, that same feeling still lingering in her chest.

you took care of hazel when she got beaten up by tucker. mrs. callahan— who's now different in your eyes after learning that she was sleeping with jeff —was glad that her "daughters" were hanging out again, recalling that time you poured alcohol on the cut on hazel's knee. unlike before, you were more gentle at cleaning the multiple cuts on her swollen face.

the sight ultimately broke you. you could still hear her head making contact with the gymasium floor, making you wince every time you remembered it. you wanted to run towards her, shield her from the big white guy— seriously, why the fuck is he not expelled yet? this school is a joke, you thought. but he was tucker and he was caged for a reason, and you don't know a thing or two about self defense. all you could do was watch in fear.

on the second night of your so-called "shift", you sat at the corner of her bed after putting away the ice pack and the antiseptics to see if she's in any discomfort while sleeping. she looked peaceful in her slumber despite her swollen eyelids painted in disgusting red, black and blue hues. you just wished that the healing process would speed up so that you could see her bright eyes again. your eyes travelled down to her parted lips, finding yourself staring at it for a long amount of time. you were aware of hazel's unbroken routine of always applying lip balm which obviously started back when you were little but this was the first time that you noticed how soft they looked. you wondered what her lips would feel like on your—

you were snapped out of your daydream when hazel stirred in her sleep, making you abruptly but gently standing up from her bed to avoid interrupting her rest. what was that about? you don't just randomly daydream about kissing your friend, especially when they're in a horrible state. cringing internally, you laid down on the sleeping bag on the floor, shutting your eyes so you could quickly fall asleep and forget about your thoughts. this is normal right? right?

you were in denial the whole time you were at hers, attempting to be your usual self around her. but because of your recent thoughts, you found yourself unintentionally hesitant and self conscious with your actions. you were pretty sure that her fight club friends— minus pj and josie —found you weird for checking on her band-aids every minute and for acting like a mom the whole time they were over. but they were nice and you despised yourself for not liking them in the first place.

hazel was thankful that you stayed by her side and took care of her no matter how distant she became. she wasn't proud of what she did and apologized to you after the fight club left her house, leaving the both of you alone in the living room. "it's not a big deal," you wearily smiled. she hoped that you weren't tired of her.

you and hazel hung out like you used to. playing games until early in the morning, talking shit about the people you hated in school, cooking in the middle of the night. she even invited you to watch the football game against huntington with her. it's been awhile since the both of you went out together. this made you happy. maybe the previous thoughts that you had were only because you missed your dear friend. it was nothing.

you thought it was nothing. but when you saw pj and hazel making out in front of you, you felt like you were going to puke. you hurriedly left the bleachers and ran all the way home. your heart was clenching in your chest and you couldn't help the tears from streaming down your face. why did it hurt so much? why did you have to see it? you wished that you never met her in the first place. that you didn't become friends. if you did, maybe this wouldn't have happened. you stopped running as your legs made contact with the ground, heaving as you did so.

during the following weeks, you were now avoiding hazel. you shut down all of her attempts trying to talk to you, wanting to ask you about your whereabouts that night after they knocked out all of the football players. hazel was beyond frustrated that you were ignoring her calls and messages. she tried ambushing you in the classes that you both shared and didn't share together, but you had somehow left the classroom without her noticing.

after the fourth week, hazel finally got you cornered at your house. screw your mom for being so fond of her. your house lacks female solidarity.

"why have you been ignoring me?" hazel spoke after glaring at you intensely that you're pretty sure if she was a deadly laser right now, your skeleton will be left behind. you looked away from her eyes and stared at your pillows. you were both standing in the middle of the room, your arms crossed over your chests.

you shook her head and muttered, "you wouldn't understand." you don't want to let her know that you like her more than a friend. you don't want to get in between her and pj's relationship. you don't want to be that kind of girl.

hazel huffed and rolled her eyes, her hands now resting on her hips and her tongue pressing against the insides of her cheeks. "oh i'd love to understand why you decided to ignore me out of fucking nowhere."

your brows furrowed as you stepped a little closer. "that's ironic," you chuckled at her. "like you didn't ignore me when you started your little fight club."

her eyes widened a little bit. hazel was thrown off at what you said, the knot in her stomach getting tighter. "no, i—"

"wow..." you breathed out, shaking your head in disbelief. "so it's only okay when you do it?"

"you didn't talk to me!" she stepped closer.

"you didn't talk to me either!" you stepped closer. hazel could see that your eyes were filled with rage. bottled up emotions from when she was ignoring you started to peek through. "if you were going to ignore me for pj, you could've just fucking told me! you could've been honest!"

she cocked her head to the side. "pj? what does pj have to do with this?"

you stepped back and paced the room, one hand on your hips and the other on your forehead. hazel was confused when you brought up pj. sure, they kissed, but it was for a distraction. the whole time she was kissing her, you were on her mind. but of course, you don't know that.

"you didn't have to hide your girlfriend, hazel."

huh? hazel thought. "what girlfriend?"

now you were confused. "pj? i mean... you guys made out in front of the entire school—"

"that was for a distraction!" hazel then started pacing around the room while you stopped and watched her.

"distraction for what?!"

"huntington was about to kill jeff by spraying pineapple across the field during the game," hazel explained while you try to search for any lies in her eyes and words. "my bomb didn't work so we needed another distraction to stall the game— wait, shouldn't you know this? weren't you at the game?"

you swallowed and wiped your hands on your shorts, trying to calm yourself down and not cringe at what you're about to say next. "i left... when you and pj... y'know..."

hazel took a step closer to where you were. "why'd you leave?"

"because..." you stuttered, looking at anywhere but in front of you, words stuck in your throat as she took another step closer. "you wouldn't want to know."

"tell me," her voice dropped into a whisper, now only inches away from you, blue eyes piercing into yours. "why'd you leave?"

you took a deep breath and pursed your lips, mentally cursing yourself and everyone in the world. "i couldn't stand watching you kiss pj."

"why?" she took one step closer.

"because i like you." closer.

"of course you do," she chuckled and walked once more until her face is centimeters away from yours. "it'd be weird for our friendship if you don't."

she didn't want to jump into conclusions. you wanted to rip your hair out at her obliviousness. you could feel her breath on your face. her eyes glancing at your lips. the both of you wanted to let each other know about your feelings, your sweet intentions. but you were afraid that it'll be sour, bitter. that your emotions are still unripe.

"hazel... you don't understand—"

"make me."

with that, you closed the space that was in between you both, connecting your lips to her soft ones. it felt right. it wasn't sour. the kiss was gentle and sweet, much like a strawberry shortcake lip balm.

AAAAAA ive been writing this one for awhile i hope u liked it!! ;v;

#hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan fluff #hazel bottoms #hazel callahan #bottoms (2023)

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 7 months ago

Text

a/n: i am so proud of the boys and what they accomplished after everyone counted them out 💙🧡 can’t wait for next year when they’ve had a full training camp with patrick and they come back better than ever 🤍

tw: child goes “missing” for a brief moment, mild innuendo

word count: 2.9k

summary: the msg broadcast gets double the barzal men for a little bit

Offering to take the girls to the arena for a game seems like it’s a great idea until you’ve got Talia, both Martin girls, and Tulsa Horvat begging for pretzels mid-way through the second. Normally you’d have at least one of Syd or Holly with you, but since the outing is for Talia’s birthday, you’d thought it would be fine to just take the girls yourself. That you’d be a good friend, letting Syd and Holly have their Thursday night free, since all of your husbands are retired now and they don’t have to come to the arena if they don’t want to.

But Max is getting antsy and Talia is yapping your ear off - much like her father - begging for snacks.

“Mom, please, I’m starving,” she pokes her lip out at you in a pout and widens her hazel eyes. She looks unfairly like Mat when she makes that expression even though her general looks had shifted to favor yours as she got older. You’ve never really been able to say no to either kid anyway.

“Can you at least watch your brother while I go get snacks?” You ask, lifting your eyebrow and twisting your hair back into a slightly sloppy ponytail. Max swings his legs in his seat next to you, grinning at his big sister. His hat dips over his eyes and you make a mental note to adjust the strap.

Talia looks at you as if you just asked her to swallow a cup of live spiders. “Mom, please no! I don’t even know why we brought him, today was supposed to be for my birthday,” she whines a little, those pre-teen hormones working overtime. Two weeks from turning eleven, and you find yourself missing your baby girl more and more each day. She’s usually a pretty polite and delightful kid, but something about that upcoming eleventh birthday is creating that familiar teenage whine you’d been so good at back in the day. You should really call and apologize to your mother.

Max pipes up without taking his eyes off the action on the ice, “your birthday’s not even today!”

“Thank you, Max,” you hold a hand out in front of his face, covering his mouth, as Talia shoots him a glare. Max wiggles away from your hand, his head bobbing in every direction as he tries to see the players. “I should’ve known this would happen.” You pinch the bridge of your nose with your free hand.

The only reason Talia had picked this game for her birthday is because of Jack Cizikas’s last minute call up from the AHL. Her puppy crush on him is something you and Kristy like to joke about, but right now you’re not laughing. Casey, Kristy, Reese, and Cole are up in a suite with the grandparents for the moment and you should’ve just sent Max up there to join them, but your five-year-old is still a little clingy. He loves the Cizikas family, hero-worships ten-year-old Cole, but when you’d suggested it, his face had crumpled and he’d said, “I wanna stay with you, Mama!”

Who were you to argue with that?

“Okay, I’ll take Max with me, but Win,” you raise your voice and look down a few seats at Winnie Martin, the oldest of your babysitting charges at fifteen, “do not leave these seats until I get back, okay?”

Winnie grins at you, Matt’s smile copy and pasted onto her face. She gives you a little salute and nods, “you got it.”

Talia turns back to the girls, completely ignoring you, and you roll your eyes a little before holding out your hand to Max. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go get some snacks,” you say, savoring the feeling of his little hand in yours. You never know when he’ll start thinking he’s too cool for his mom, so you’ll enjoy it while it lasts.

“Can I get ice cream?” He asks, skipping along next to you. He gives Sparky a high five when you pass the mascot at the top of the stairs.

You laugh a little and point Sparky and his handler in the direction of the girls. “I’m sure Winnie will love to see you,” you say, nostalgia washing over you as you think about the early years of your relationship with Mat and Winnie’s love for the dragon. Sparky nods and gives you an enthusiastic thumbs up, before bounding down the stairs. It’s a different person in the costume now, obviously, but you all had made sure to keep Winnie humbled by making sure each iteration of the Sparky knew to stop and see her at a game. The teen plays along gamely, her mother’s daughter.

Max tugs on your hand, drawing your attention. “Mama! Can I get ice cream?” He repeats his request and you shake your head.

“Nope, sorry, kid. It’s past your sugar cutoff,” you shake his arm when he pouts and kicks his Nike against the floor, nearly tripping himself as he tries to keep walking. “I’ll split a pretzel with you though.”

“I don’t wanna pretzel,” he whines, dragging his feet as he traipses behind you. You dodge a few people, tugging Max along. He keeps whining a little, complaining under his breath, and you pinch at the bridge of your nose before squatting down so you’re at his eye level.

Max goes quiet, but his whole face scrunches up in annoyance and you smile softly. “If you have ice cream now, you’re not going to be able to sleep. And remember that Daddy’s coming on your field trip tomorrow so don’t you want to be well rested for that?” You raise an eyebrow at him while Max considers your explanation.

The line shifts forward while Max is considering and you smile awkwardly up at the family in line behind you, silently apologizing for not moving. The mother waves you off with a polite smile too. Solidarity.

“Can I have ice cream tomorrow then?” Max finally asks and negotiating with the tiny terrorist wasn’t on your to do list today, but you nod anyway, knowing it’ll bite you in the ass tomorrow.

“Yes, after your field trip you can have a little ice cream,” you stand up, knees creaking a bit, and move forward on the line. Matter settled, you hook your fingers in the back collar of Max’s Horvat jersey, worn because ‘Uncle Bo is the coolest!’ much to Mat’s annoyance and your amusement. At the self-serve counter, you grab five pretzels - even if Max doesn’t want to share, you still want a snack - and a Diet Coke, hoping for a quick burst of energy. You let go of Max’s jersey to fish your phone out of your back pocket and tap it against the reader.

“Okay, Max, back to -“ you cut yourself off, looking down at your side and not seeing Max. “Max? Oh, fuck. Where did he go?”

Your heart hammers in your chest, slight panic rising when you scan the concourse and don’t spot your kindergartener. “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, the only thing keeping your panic at a reasonable level is the fact that Max was quite literally almost born in the arena and knows it better than anyone. Of course that also means he could be hiding literally anywhere and never be found.

“I…okay, think like Max,” you step off to the side, against the wall, so you can figure out what to do. “Where the hell is he going to go?”

The muffled cheers of the crowd filter through the arena, signifying that the Islanders have added to their lead late in the second. You smile faintly and, like a lightning bolt to the head, realize where Max wandered off to. Or where you hope he wandered off to.

You book it towards the Lab and the MSG broadcast set up, trying to see around the crowds of people that are leaving their seats now that the second period is over. Obviously, you can’t see anything around all the people and the closer you get to the main stairs, the more panic you’re starting to feel, thinking about the girls back at the seats and what you’ll do if Max isn’t with Mat.

Once the cameras and desk come into view, your entire body unclenches, Max is happily perched on Mat’s hip, chattering away with Shannon while Mat and Thomas discuss the second period’s play. The cameras are on and your son is broadcasting live on MSG. You wiggle your way through the little crowd of people around the set and get to the front, by the retractable belt barriers, and try to catch Mat’s eye.

The second he spots you, his entire expression changes, a delighted smile stretching across his face and his eyes crinkling up at the corners. He looks like a twenty-something again, not the nearly forty-year-old he actually is.

“Max!” You hiss, trying not to be heard. “Send him over here!” You wave your free hand at the duo, Diet Coke wedged under your arm and pretzels getting squished in your hand.

Mat shakes his head at you and Thomas and Shannon look over too, all three of them laughing. Mat turns back to the camera, Max smiling like the cat that got the canary. “My wife’s trying to get our broadcast sidekick back,” he says, laughing. Mat bounces Max in his arms. “But I think we’ll keep him around for his color commentary.”

“No, oh my god,” you shake your head and gesture for Max to come back to you. “Mat, stop it.”

“Max,” Mat turns to look at your son, totally ignoring you, “what did you think of the game so far?”

Embracing the fact that Mat’s going to let Max join them for a while at least, you sigh and relax into the moment, watching Max perk up as he gets to discuss his favorite thing.

“I missed Matt’s goal,” he complains, Matt Maggio must’ve been the one to score when you noticed Max was missing. “But I like Jack the best ‘cause he’s funny and plays mini sticks. And also he gave me a piggy-back all day at Easter.”

Shannon laughs and chimes in, “we like Jack around here too. But hey, Max, I can show you Matt’s goal while your dad and Thomas discuss some of the finer points of the game.”

Max wiggles out of Mat’s arms and darts around Thomas’s back so he can stand with Shannon and watch the goal he missed. You snap a picture of Max’s head poking over the desk, heart melting at the sheer excitement on his face. You also notice the dozen texts littering your phone’s screen - a multitude of laughing emojis sent from the girls while they watch at home.

The fans around you are clearly eating up Max’s presence and you feel a little spike of anxiety thinking about how exposed he is to the public now, after keeping his and Talia’s faces mostly hidden on your social media pages. It’s always a little inevitable that the kids are seen with Mat out in public, but you almost wish you could snatch up all the phones recording video and taking pictures of Max as he points something out to Shannon on the iPad.

You take a nervous bite out of your pretzel and try to just enjoy the moment until they go to commercial when you can duck under the belt barrier. Mat grins boyishly at you, grabbing your waist to pull you in for a quick kiss. “Well, this is fun,” he says, pulling back from the kiss. “Family broadcast.”

“He is so stupid sneaky,” you shake your head, offering Mat the pretzel that you’d taken a bite out of. He accepts it and tears off a piece of his own. “And fast.”

Thomas laughs, leaning his forearms on the desk. “That’ll be helpful when he’s zipping around defensemen and scoring goals,” he teases before going to say hi to the fans and take selfies.

“Mom, look!” Max pops up at your side, holding a puck. Where did he get that?

“Pretty cool,” you smile down at him and let Mat lift him back up onto his hip. Max’s long legs kick at Mat’s thighs. “Where’d you get that, bud?”

“From Dad when I got here,” Max chirps. “Can I stay? Cause I don’t wanna be with the girls.”

He cuddles up against Mat’s shoulder, the father-son duo wearing matching hangdog, pleading expressions on their faces. The day Mat taught both kids the look was the worst day of your life, weakening your already minimal willpower. This time you have to say no, interrupting Mat while he’s working is only cute for so long.

“Sorry, Maxy,” you reply sympathetically. “We have to get back to the girls, but we’ll see Dad right after the game.”

Max whines loudly, reminding you that he’s still only five, and you chew on the inside of your lip. Mat pats Max on the back and whispers something in his ear, the extra lighting catching on the few greys that are starting to form in Mat’s dark hair. You wait while Mat talks quietly to your son, trying not to worry about coming back from commercial while you’re all standing in the middle of everything. Eventually, Max huffs an exasperated sigh and wiggles out of Mat’s grip again, slumping his way over to your side.

You smirk a little, “gee, don’t look so thrilled to come hang with your mom.”

Mat laughs and you roll your eyes at him.

“I wanted to stay with Dad,” Max pouts, little fingers gripping tightly onto the puck. “But he said that he’d take me to the locker room if I go with you.”

“Bribery,” Mat winks at you. “A dad’s best weapon.”

The ten second warning that the commercial is ending blinks and you grab Max’s hand, “okay, time to go back to the girls. We’ll see Dad later, okay?”

Max waves at Mat as you guide him away from the set. “Bye, Dad! Don’t forget I wanna see Jack and the locker room,” he shouts and you can hear Mat’s laughter boom over the noise of the crowd.

“I won’t forget Max, be good for Mom,” Mat calls out.

You hurry back to your seats, Max hopping along and waving to people as you go. He gives big, cheerful greetings to the ushers and security guards he recognizes, forcing you to stop when Sparky passes by so he can give the mascot a high-five and a hug around the legs.

“Max, baby, please. We can see Sparky later,” you sigh, a little worried about leaving the girls alone for so long. You know they’ll listen and not leave the seats, but you feel vaguely like a terribly mother/babysitter since they’ve been sitting by themselves for nearly twenty minutes.

Max pouts, but takes a hold of the hand you’re holding out for him and dutifully follows you back to the seats. He clambers over the couple at the end of the row and you apologize quickly for him, making another mental note to work on the kid’s manners.

“Where did you go?” Talia pops up in her seat like a meerkat, wrinkling her face at you in confusion. “We thought you, like, got kidnapped!”

“We didn’t get kidnapped,” you huff, passing around the pretzels. The girls thank you and turn back to the on-ice intermission action. Max reaches for your half eaten one too and you’re glad you at least got a bite in earlier. “Max ran off to see Dad.”

Max grins at his sister, mouth full of chewed pretzel. “Dad gave me a puck and I got to be on TV with him,” he manages to sound smug and excited all at the same time, waving the gifted puck in one hand.

Talia pouts a little, still childish despite how she tries to mimic the older girls.

“Eat your pretzel,” you twirl your finger to get her to look back at the ice. “There are a thousand pucks at home. Oh,” you add, “we’re going to head down to the locker room after the game. Dad promised Max.”

That gets the girls going, chattering about how they get to see Jack and the rest of the players, giggling like crazy while huddled together. You lean back in your seat, smiling softly at how cute they all are. Max is on his feet, dancing along to the arena music, waving both hands in the air - your little party animal. You send Mat a video of him dancing, teasing that father and son have the same moves.

He shoots back a gif of himself dancing at the Martins’ wedding more than fifteen years ago, making you laugh out loud, drawing the attention of all five kids. “Ignore me,” you laugh, waving a hand at them.

Another message from Mat vibrates your phone: leave the kids with marts and syd when you drop the girls off after the game, i wanna show you more of my moves 👀

Giggling like a high schooler with a crush, you take a minute to appreciate that Mat still makes you feel floaty and dizzy with love. Over ten years together and he still makes your heart skip a beat.

“Mom,” Talia’s voice slices through your thoughts, “what’s Dad saying? Because you look so weird.”

Schooling your features into a more neutral expression, you lean forward over the seat and ask, “how do you guys feel about a sleepover at Aunt Syd and Uncle Matt’s?”

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal fic #nhl fic

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