#she knows she was just trying to keep her alive | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ohbueckers · 1 day ago

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HEART OF A WOMAN. fuckin’ and arguing, fuckin’ again. after you said we not fuckin’ again, never say never, just say what it is.

07, CHAPTER SEVEN. WE COULD QUIT DELAYING.

ju speaks. rushed to get edit and post this for you guys before i go out tonight but hey, they’re even i guess… the love shown for this fic is UNMATCHED, i love you all. pairing. wnba!paige bueckers x fem!oc. warnings. sexual content… crash out p.

present day, june 2025.

paige: yo why you leave?

you really just gon dip like that after everything i said to you?

read 11:12pm

i stare at the texts, the screen blurring for a second before i blink it back into focus. the strobe of my phone lights up the backseat of ana’s car, where i’m half-sprawled against the leather, her hand creeping up my thigh. my head’s foggy—not drunk, but just tipsy enough to feel audacious. ana’s lips skim along the side of my neck, hot and slow, and i don’t stop her, not at first.

i came straight to her job after i walked out of the game. i wasn’t gonna stay, pace the sidelines all night, pretend i wasn’t watching paige. pretend it didn’t eat me alive when i caught onto everything maya was telling me. showing me. so, i left. let paige have the last laugh (in her own eyes) while i drank my way through ana’s shift.

paige’s texts must mean she’s just now picking up her phone. took her long enough. probably had to say goodbye to maya first. the thought burns, and my fingers tighten around my phone.

“mm,” ana hums against my skin. it feels nice. “you’re so tense.” her fingers trace lazy circles against my inner thigh, lips grazing my jaw now.

i try to fall into it, but i scrunch my face up, pulling away slightly when my phone buzzes again.

paige: i know you saw ts

i do something? 11:14pm

bro answer the phone 11:17pm

i scoff, and ana’s lips pause. she pulls back just enough to look at me, her eyebrow raised. “that her?”

i nod, tucking my bottom lip between my teeth. “keep doing what you’re doing,” i breathe out. she smiles, all thirty two showing as she places a kiss to my lips before dropping to her knees.

paige: where are you? 11:21pm

i don’t think about why that’s her next question, i just stubbornly type back something vague.

nailea: i’m jusr out

paige: don’t play w me

out where?

who you with?

read 11:23pm

nailea: no one

read 11:24pm

i hear her tone through the screen—skeptical, irritated. i wait, expecting her to follow up with another question, but the screen stays stubbornly blank. no more bubbles, no texts.

i furrow my eyebrows, scrolling up the thread, reading her last messages again like i’m missing something. did she give up that fast? doubtful. paige doesn’t give up. she digs in. especially when it comes to me.

ana’s hands tug at the waistband of my shorts, and i lift my hips slightly, letting her pull them down. i yelp, smiling down at her when she pulls me closer to her mouth. my breath stutters as she kisses down low, everywhere but where i need her. she knows what she’s doing, and i almost let myself fully fall.

i almost let it go for the night.

almost.

and then i realize—paige’s last text, the one that asked who i was with—it didn’t feel like just a question. it felt like she knew something. she’s looking at my location.

i fumble with my phone, swiping through settings faster than i’ve ever moved before. the notification pops up immediately after i flick the toggle to off.

i’m probably only making her angrier. paige and i never stopped sharing our locations. not since high school when we weren’t even dating. no matter how bad the argument got, no matter how many times we called for a break up. i can’t find myself caring, though. i’ll match her anger.

you stopped sharing your location with paige at 11:28pm

paige: oh

😂😂😂

ight 11:28pm

imma ask you something 11:30pm

and istg nailea

she takes a moment to type, the text bubble going in and out, almost like she’s bracing herself for her own question. my head falls back against the seat, a shaky exhale escaping me as ana attaches her lips to my cunt, getting straight to work.

you with her?

i am. she knows i am. i don’t know why she’s asking.

nailea: why do you care?

paige: tf you mean why do i care?

are you with her?

somehow, the second ask makes me wanna be honest. the messier, the better. she deserves every ounce of what i throw back at her. my fingers hover over the keyboard, my head foggy from the drinks, from ana, from everything. i feel her pause for a second before her mouth returns to me, a measured dip of her tongue that drags the answer right out of me.

nailea: yuppp

she fucks me sioooo good p

could’ve been you tn

but i’m done

paige: no you’re not bro don’t say shit like that 11:34pm

call me so we can talk? 11:36pm

please baby

nailea: talk? like you talked w maya?

nahhhh i’m good

i know everything

you want her. go have her

paige: nai what the fuck did she tell you? 11:37pm

the part of me that knows better says to put the phone down, but the other part—the one paige always has a hold on—can’t resist. i need her to know what i know. i stare at the messages, my heart twisting in ways i wish it wouldn’t. the denial, the deflection—it’s textbook paige. she’ll never admit it. it’s not enough. it’s never enough.

paige: i told you how i felt

you KNOW how i feel about you???

you think i’d lie about that?

don’t let her mess us up

yes, i do. because you lie about fucking everything.

nailea: you tell maya you love her too?

btw her jeans? unzipped

i think i get the picture

a minute passed. two. three. i screw my eyes shut at the silent confirmation. she really did it, didn’t she?

paige: call me 11:41pm

my stomach drops, but i’m too far gone to care. ana’s hands grip me tighter, and i can’t tell if it’s to keep me grounded or to remind me that she’s the one here, not paige.

i drop the phone, letting it clatter to the seat, paige’s messages lighting up the screen like a flashing red light i refuse to acknowledge. ana’s name falls from my lips now, i let my hand fall into her curls, gripping her hair tighter, letting the anger burn out through her.

“there she is.”

i forget about everything else.

the beach looks perfect tonight, though i’m sure cam planned her and ben’s pre-wedding bonfire down to a tee. the weather, the crowd—everything’s falling into place. i’m happy for her. the fire crackles, sending out occasional pops, and people are lounging on blankets around it, standing, chatting in groups, soaking in the warmth as the sun dips below the horizon. it’s almost like a little piece of paradise.

i force myself to be in the moment, even though my mind keeps drifting back to the mess i’ve been trying to avoid for the past week, nearly two. paige. i’ve been dodging her calls and texts, shutting down every attempt she’s made to get me to talk.

i’ve been doing a fairly great job at it. dodging maya, too. but i spotted them near the pier, paige leaned against the railing, maya going off about something the blonde looks like she doesn’t wanna hear, and i’m right back in it. i furrow my eyebrows, as if squinting hard enough will help me lip-read whatever maya’s laying on her. but i can’t. and it’s infuriating.

oh, and ana? somewhere behind me, i think. i brought her here—like an idiot. i thought it’d help me focus, distract me from paige, but now i’m just starting to think it might’ve been a mistake.

“…you’ve outdone yourself. as usual,” rae says, and i snap my head back over to the conversation in front of me. i take a sip of my cocktail, the condensation dripping onto my fingers.

cam grins, brushing imaginary dust of her shoulders. “ben and i wanted something with everyone since the wedding will be a little smaller.”

i murmur my agreement as i take another drink, and i’m so lost in thought that i don’t notice rickea until she loops an arm through mine, dragging me away.

“hey, back,” i tease, waving away at rae and cam who didn’t seem to mind.

she leans in close, the smell of her coconut lotion wafting as she speaks just loud enough for me to hear. “you wanna tell me why ana is here?”

i shrug, and my eyes scan over the crowd until i finally spot ana by the cocktail bar. too far away. she’s been out of my sight for too long.

“damage control,” i reply, though the explanation feels like a flimsy excuse the second it leaves my lips.

rickea lets out a disbelieving laugh, tugging me a little farther from the group, out of earshot. “you mean paige control?”

the words hit harder than i expect, even in jest. my grip tightens around the glass, nails trying to dig into it. “she’s fine,” i say, but it sounds like i’m trying to convince myself of it.

kea tilts her head, eyes narrowing in that way she does when she’s reading you too closely. “sure she is,” she says, dragging the words out. her gaze shifts past me to the pier, where paige and maya’s conversation seems to have escalated. maya gestures wildly, while paige stands still, her jaw tight.

“it’s not my problem anymore,” i tell her flatly.

rickea stops in front of me, unliking our arms to cross her own, but the smirk stays. “mm-hmm. and ana being here has nothing to do with reminding paige of that, right?”

i nod. “right.”

the lie tastes bitter. because even if it’s true—if ana being here isn’t just about paige—it doesn’t feel that way. not when i feel the same sting of her actions that’s lingered all for nearly two weeks.

rickea studies me for a moment, her smirk morphing into something almost sympathetic, but she doesn’t press further.

“let’s just get you another drink. at the cocktail bar. where ana is.” she speaks in periods, and i shake my head, ultimately agreeing.

i let her pull me along, glancing back one more time at the pier where paige and maya stand like two actors in a scene i don’t want to watch. i catch a familiar set of blue hues already looking my way. ana’s name is still somewhere on my tongue, but it’s the wrong one, isn’t it?

the sun’s fully set now. most people are starting to head towards the house cam had reserved for the night for dinner and games she’d carefully curated. i can’t focus on the bonfire, on the mounds of people who would probably love to talk to me, or the stupidly perfect weather.

she’s over there, somewhere, and i can’t shake the feeling that she’s watching me, even though i know i’m not the one she’s looking at tonight. or at least not the only one.

not with ana here.

i push down the knot tightening in my chest and glance back toward the pier, where maya stormed off to just a few minutes ago. our conversation keeps replaying in my head, and every time it pops back up, it only makes me angrier.

“you’re not being honest with me,” maya had snapped, almost like she was sick of holding it in, and also like she was trying to keep it from carrying to anyone nearby.

“what the hell are you talking about?” i’d asked, leaning against the pier railing. i’d agreed to come over here to talk, and i’m starting to regret it. i didn’t want to be over here.

she gestured vaguely, her face flushed with every ounce of anger she carried. “you know exactly what i mean. you keep dancing around it like i’m stupid! like i don’t see what’s going on between you and nai.”

my stomach had dropped, but i didn’t let it show. “there’s nothing going on, bro.”

maya had then laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “right. that’s why you walked out on me at halftime to go looking for her, huh? that’s why she keeps giving you the cold shoulder every time you’re in the same room.”

she was grasping, but i couldn’t deny that she’d hit too close to home. “you’re imagining things,” i muttered, pushing off the railing, ready to end the conversation.

but then she’d stepped in front of me, her voice lowering. i looked down at her, quirking a brow. “no, i’m not. and you wanna know how i know?” she paused, waiting, and when i didn’t answer, she leaned in just enough to whisper, “i unzipped my pants on purpose.”

those words are still ringing in my ears.

nai walked out on me, angry and hurt, and nothing i’ve said since has convinced her otherwise. now i’m stuck here, catching hell for a mess i didn’t create. i wasn’t sure where it left maya and i, but it was wholeheartedly the last thing on my mind before i left.

i don’t even remember what i said after that—probably something defensive, because i didn’t want to believe it. maya had smirked, though, like she knew she’d hit her mark. “you can’t keep playing both sides, paige. someone was gonna call your bluff.”

i spot nai near the bonfire, rickea by her side. she’s wearing this long, heather grey skims dress that hugs her hips just right. she looks good. too good. she’s laughing, her head tilting back just a little, her hand brushing her hair out of her face, and for a second, it’s like none of it happened.

but i know her. i know the way her fingers curl just a little tighter around her drink when she’s tense, the way her laugh comes too quick, like she’s trying to convince herself she’s having fun. i know the way she’s avoiding looking at me. she’s pretending, and it pisses me off.

but then there’s ana. she’s standing by the cocktail bar, her long legs crossed casually as someone i don’t recognize talks her ear off. she’s everything nai probably thinks she needs right now, and i hate her for it.

ana doesn’t flinch when i slide into the space between her and.. whoever. she just glances at me, taking a slow sip from her drink before setting it down. her smile doesn’t falter, even as her eyes narrow, her stance shifting just enough to face me fully.

“well, if it isn’t the infamous ex,” she announces. somehow, the word ex makes everything remotely cordial i was gonna say fly out the window. “you always this bold, or is tonight special?”

i lean against the bar, letting the corner of my mouth tug into a smirk. “depends who’s askin’.” i glance down, then back up at her. “but you? you’re nothin’ special.”

she laughs, a cocky one, like i’m exactly where she wanted me. “you’re cute,” she says, tilting her head. “but you don’t scare me, paige.”

i furrow my eyebrows, but it doesn’t match the curve of my lips. “scare you?” i chuckle, letting the words roll off my tongue slow. “nah, i ain’t tryna scare you. just makin’ sure you know your place.”

her eyebrows raise. “and what place is that?”

“second,” i say easily, adding a shrug to the jab too. “always second. ‘cause you ain’t got her like i do.”

ana leans closer, her voice dropping to match mine. “you sure about that? ‘cause right now it looks like you don’t got her at all.”

alright.

the words hit where she wanted them to, but i don’t flinch. instead, i lean in just a little closer, my smirk widening. “you think you’ve got her? think she’s moved on?” i shake my head, glancing away from her, as if the ocean is more interesting than this conversation. “she’ll always come back to me, ana. you’re just a pit stop.”

ana doesn’t break eye contact, her smile tight now, but before she can respond, nai’s voice interrupts.

“ana.”

we both turn, and there she is, standing a few feet away, her jaw clenched, eyes not sure where to land, me or her. she ditched her drink, and i look to where rickea is, holding two glasses, and giving me a look like she knows what i’m stirring. i jerk my head up in her direction, as if to say, “what’s up?”

ana steps back immediately, her smile returning like it’s on autopilot. “right here, babe,” she says, moving toward her.

since when is she on babe status? was that another line to get under my skin? it worked.

nai doesn’t even look at me as she grabs ana’s arm, her fingers wrapping tight around her wrist. “let’s go.”

i can’t help myself. “what, no hello for me?” i call out, my voice etched with mock innocence.

nai freezes, her back stiffening before she slowly turns her head toward me. she looks like like she’s trying too hard not to give me anything. “you’re good at one thing, paige,” she says, her tone clipped, like she’s dismissing our talk as soon as it started.

i raise an eyebrow, my smirk deepening. “what’s that?”

“making a mess,” she spits, before yanking ana along without waiting for a response.

i watch them walk away up towards the beach house, and when i’m sure she won’t turn around, i turn towards the bar, stroking my chin.

“another, please.”

the beach feels different at night, quieter in a way that makes everything louder in my head. the waves roll in and out, and the moon is bright enough for me to see out. it should be peaceful, but it’s not.

everyone’s still inside, but after i told cam what happened, she offered me two blankets and a bottle of tequila to clear my head, and i, for one, wouldn’t turn it down. i can hear everyone’s laughter, the music. i couldn’t stay there any longer, let paige stare like she still had access to me.

i dig my fingers into the sand, cool and grainy against my skin, trying to ground myself. it doesn’t work. my thoughts are too loud, too messy, tumbling over each other in a tangle i can’t unravel.

i hear the soft crunch of footsteps on the sand. a pause. then her voice.

“nai?”

i don’t turn around right away, because i already know it’s her. paige. she sounds hesitant, like she’s not sure if i’ll even let her talk. maybe she’s hoping i’ll stay quiet instead.

“what are you doing out here?” she asks, a little too casually.

i finally glance over my shoulder, meeting her eyes for the first time since i stopped her antics by the bar. she’s standing there, a few feet away, her hands shoved in the pockets of her blue jeans, shoulders hunched like she’s trying to make herself smaller. i almost feel sorry for her. almost.

when i don’t respond, she asks another question. “where’s ana?” she takes a seat next to me, and the blanket’s large enough for the two of us. almost like it’s fate again. she wants to know. she’s still jealous, and i can feel the weight of that jealousy in the way she says it. the way she looks at me. like she’s waiting for me to tell her something she doesn’t want to hear.

“she left,” i say, not bothering to explain further. i don’t owe her that. ana has work in the morning, and i wasn’t gonna keep her here any longer as my rebound toy. not while i was already feeling bad about it.

paige exhales, and i hear the relief and frustration in it before she bites down on her lip. she looks down at the ground for a second, like she’s working up the courage to say what’s really on her mind. “look, about earlier… i’m sorry. shouldn’t’ve been bickering with your girl like that.”

i finally turn to look at her. “she’s not my girl.” her lips twitch, like she’s trying not to smile, and it sets something off in me. “that all you’ve gotta apologize for?”

she shifts, close enough that her knee brushes against mine. “that’s not what happened with maya.”

“don’t,” i say, shaking my head as i look away. “don’t sit here and lie to my face.”

“i’m not lyin’, nai,” she defends, leaning forward, trying to catch my eye. she’s almost pleading for me to believe her. “you think i’d do that to you? again?”

“uh? you want me to tell the truth?” i spit, and those seven words shut her right up. “i know. i saw it. her pants were unzipped. she was smiling at me like she got what she wanted. what the fuck am i supposed to believe?”

“me!” paige runs a hand down her face. “me… for once.”

silence. the kind i hate.

“you’re never gonna trust me, are you?”

“no,” i mutter under my breath, closing my eyes for a second, like that might stop the storm brewing inside me. but it doesn’t. it makes it worse. i hate how she’s still able to pull at me like this, how she knows exactly how to get under my skin, how she knows how to feel like home in a way no one else does.

but most importantly, i hate that she can do all these things, make me feel all these things, and still not be a better person for me.

she flinches like i’ve struck her, but she doesn’t back down. “you think you can trust her? ana? you don’t even know her.”

i scoff. “and you wanna argue with me about trust?” i snap, turning to face her fully now. it takes a lot of effort to not yell.

she shakes her head, exhaling slowly. “i don’t wanna argue at all, ma. just wanna have you.”

“just wanna have you.”

the words leave my mouth before i can stop them, and i hate how badly i need her to believe me. it shouldn’t have had to be like this. i don’t want to say it, but i know it’s true. everything else can wait. it’s her. it’s always been her. i just need her to hear me, to feel me—because she hasn’t let me show her anything in too long.

nai looks at me, her eyes softening just enough, and i can see the battle inside her—she’s pissed, but she’s still here. when her lips meet mine, it’s like everything i’ve been holding back for the last week and a half explodes. i sink into her, tasting the tequila in her kiss. everything about this feels wrong, but it feels right too. she’s still here, still letting me touch her.

she pulls back just enough to look at me, her eyes narrowed but warm. vulnerable. it’s a look i know all too well, one i never wanted to see again, but somehow, i’m grateful for it. i hate how much i’ve hurt her, how much i’ve fucked this up, but i’ll be damned if i let her walk away without trying.

“what can i do to make you believe me?” i ask, my voice cracking just a little. there’s desperation there, but there’s also hope—hope i shouldn’t have, but i can’t help it.

“explain,” she whispers, barely audible, her lips still swollen from our kiss.

i don’t even have to think about it. the words spill out like i’d been waiting for the change. “maya knows. she’s… she tried something out, tested you to see if it was true. she knew i was lying to her about us. i didn’t—i didn’t want that to happen. not like that.”

her eyes search mine, like she’s trying to read through me, and it makes me want to break. shit, she’s so close. her body is almost against mine, and the urge to touch her is too much to ignore. before i can stop myself, my lips are trailing down her neck, tasting the skin there, trying to get closer, to make her feel how much i need her to understand.

“i didn’t touch her,” i mutter against her skin, my hands finding their way under her dress, fingertips grazing her hips. “i swear, nai. you’re it. you’re all i want.”

the words are coming faster now, and everything about her—her scent, the way her skin feels beneath my fingers, the way her breath hitches as i kiss lower—it’s too much. i don’t know if i’m trying to make her believe me or if i’m just trying to keep her here, to keep her from leaving me again.

i look up at her, my lips just inches from her own, and i can see the hesitation, the fight still in her eyes, but it’s softer now. she’s softening, letting me in.

“i shouldn’t have made you doubt that,” i whisper, my breath hot against her ear as i lean in closer. i can feel her body trembling under my touch, and it drives me wild. fuck, i’m so close to losing it.

and then i’m kissing her again, this time deeper, more messy. i don’t have time for any more words. all i need is this. her. me and her.

before i know it, she’s guiding me down, her hands threading through my hair as she pulls me closer. she doesn’t say anything more, but i don’t need her to. i can feel it—the way her body moves against mine, the way she breathes my name like it’s the only thing that matters.

and then i’m all the way down in front of her, looking up into her eyes, feeling her breath catch. she’s so fucking beautiful. i don’t care about anything else. just the way she looks at me, like i’m everything she needs, like i’m the only thing that matters.

“fuck,” i murmur, my hands moving up her thighs as i hike her dress up over her hips. i hear her let out a soft gasp as my lips drag over her stomach, leaving kisses in its wake. my fingers hook into the band of her panties, and i look back up at her for confirmation that this is okay.

she’s lost in it, finding my eyes once i stop. i give her a smirk, and she rolls her eyes. “yes, paige.”

“tell me you want it.”

“so badly,” she retorts.

i move more of the grey fabric out of the way before i drop my head again. she spreads her legs further, just enough for me to dip my tongue in between her folds, and sure enough, she’s wet already.

i wrap both of my hands around her thighs, veins poking through from the grip as i pull her closer to my mouth. i suck a little harder, lapping up her juices and pushing it right back in.

she arches her back, indicating i’m doing something right. “feel good?” i mumble, and she meets my eyes, nodding rapidly. i chuckle against her, teeth grazing her cunt, and she jolts.

“shit, paige. don’t do that,” she scolds.

“why not?” i stick my tongue out again, swiping it through her folds slowly before sucking her clit into my mouth. her head falls back, jaw open to let out some whiny, pornographic moan, like she’d been holding it in.

“gonna make me c—ha—ome quicker.”

when i slide a finger in, she tenses up a little, body rising to the sky, not expecting the stretch. “relax, i got you,” i chastised her, diving back in to mouth at her clit. her moans are like music i never wanna turn off, and i’m enjoying myself way too much to think i couldn’t do this for the rest of my damn life.

“paige,” she gasps, biting down on her lip in attempt to refrain from being too loud. i don’t want that. i wanna hear her. my name falls from her lips in a breathless moan, and i groan.

“say my name again,” i purr, finger curling inside her like it’ll drag it right out. “i love hearing it, baby.”

“mm, paigeeeee.” she drags it out purposefully. it makes me smile.

she quickly grinds against my face, hand in my hair pushing me in further. deeper. i place my free hand on her stomach, pushing her dress up as it travels higher, right over one of her tits. she wasn’t wearing a bra.

i groan against her again, continuing my assault on her clit. “you taste so good, nai. so fuckin’ good.” i feel her dripping from my mouth, out her hole, and i know she’s closer to the edge, closer to soaking this blanket up.

she brings her hand up to her chest, embracing her own with mine, adding just enough pressure in the way she likes. “just like that,” she breathed. i added another finger that slid in with no problem, making her yelp out, tightening her grip on my scalp.

“so close, p. just like that,” she repeats.

with one quick curl and movement, i can tell the tension she feels building up in her stomach. i remove my hand from her breast, using it to keep her legs open as she lets go. she repeats my name over and over again. it sounds like sin on tongue.

i stare at her in awe as she finishes on my fingers. they catch most of it, and i dip my head down to taste that too as she falls back completely, chest heaving, dress disheveled.

i give her a moment before i move back up. she stays there, out of breath, not moving once. i place a wet kiss to her lips, and she winces at the sensation, pushing my head away.

“gross!”

i laugh, and my chest warms at her smile, even through the dark. “you were right, you know,” i finally say, leaning to sit up on my elbow, like i didn’t just wreck this girl.

she rolls her eyes. “i always am. about what, though?”

“‘bout me being good at making a mess.”

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hannieween · 2 days ago

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the shadow | yoon jeonghan

› pairings: yoon jeonghan x female reader › aus: demon hunter jeonghan, supernatural au, demon reader › genres: angst, smut (18+) › word count: 10.6k

› proofread by the lovelies @gyuhao5 and @monamipencil ty 🩵

› this one shot is part 3 of the curse - hannieween fest

› warnings after the cut! READ THEM CAREFULLY 🗣️

› warnings: violence: abduction (not jeonghan at reader or the way around), yandere undertones, toxic relationship, smut with plot, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, comfort fuck, switch reader, switch jeonghan, jeonghan is down atrocious, dirty talk, cowgirl, worship. pet names: little demon, baby, (hers)

› disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂

THE GROUND VIBRATED BENEATH YOUR FEET. It was a Friday night, and the city was alive with desire and sin. The streets were busy with people going around, and the buzzing from their souls was distracting, making you hungry.

But, living in the human world as a demon meant that you had to keep your head down. It would be incredibly dumb on your part to start a carnage in the middle of the street. Besides, you were odd, since you liked living amongst them like you were part of their world too.

In that same vein, you had adopted some of their nature too, so you were running late for work. It was your third month working in a small local pub in the town you used to live. It was a simple enough job. You had found out that you had a natural talent for tending to drunken people, and they found themselves naturally attracted to you. So, suffice it to say, that you earned a good amount of tips every night.

“I’m sorry, I’m late,” you said, removing the scarf you wore on your neck and hanging it on the coat rack.

“You’re only wearing that?” your co-worker, Daisy stared at you as though you were an odd bug. “It’s cold as a witch’s teat outside.”

“Witches are cool. That is why I am team cold,” you sighed, grabbing your pen and a notepad. “How’s it been?”

“Slow,” Daisy replied with a dead tone. “A passerby asked for you,” she mentioned offhandedly as she looked at her reflection in a hand mirror, checking out her lipstick.

“Who?” you frowned. You had a few regulars that admittedly only came to see you, but Daisy would know them by name.

“Some random weirdo,” she shrugged. “Didn’t say your name, but he gave your description to the last hair on your head. Creepy.”

You grew more intrigued, turning to her to see the disinterest on her face. “What did you tell him?”

“To fuck off, naturally,” she replied with the same ease. “He refused to give me his name, so I refused to give him details about you.”

“Is he still here?” you asked, walking towards the door and sneaking a glance through the small round window to the pub.

“He’s sitting on one of the stools. If it gets to it, I already warned Mike about him,” she smirked triumphantly, crossing her arms. “I wouldn’t mind having a little fun watching him throw that creep out. It would make my Friday night.”

In the bar, you saw a man, sitting on the far side of the row of stools. He kept his head down, so it was nearly impossible for you to discern the features of his face. But one thing you knew, it was the first time that you had seen him.

“Well, I suppose that my Friday night just got more interesting.”

Daisy sent you a knowing look, her shoulders going slack in a sign of defeat. “Don’t tell me you’re going to talk to that guy?” she asked with an incredulous tone. “I was a bitch to him, I gave him the middle finger already! All for nothing?”

“We’ll find out,” you smirked at her, pushing the door open and stepping out of the backroom of the pub and into the warm and cozy place, buzzing with the sounds of the people gathering, clinking their jars and laughing out loud.

Some people greeted you with nods and waves of their hands, some people called your name whenever you strolled around the pub, between the tables and chairs. Usually, you would make your way to the first table that waved you down, but this time, you walked straight behind the bar.

“Hi, Mikey,” you greeted with a sing-song tone. “How’s it going?”

“Like any Friday night,” the older man spoke, he was about a foot taller than you, his beard adorned with gray hairs. “A guy is looking for you, Daisy told me,” he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. “First sign of trouble, tell me.”

“Thank you, Mikey,” you sighed, showing him a smile. Something within you stirred with something akin to satisfaction. To be surrounded by people who take care of you, in the best way humanely possible, made you feel special, and welcomed.

If only they knew. If they knew that you were very much capable of handling any trouble, even more capable than Mikey to kick out any drunkard without batting an eye. But they did not have to know, in fact, you were trying your best to keep your head down, and avoid drawing attention to yourself.

However, that happened naturally to you. People glanced your way without you even looking for it. So you made your way to the end of the bar, stopping in front of the person sitting on the last stool.

He wore a black leather jacket, his hair equally dark was long and arranged in a ponytail, some hairs hanging on the sides in a messy fringe. He toyed with the rim of his jar, half emptied already.

“You’ve been looking for me?” you placed your elbows neatly on the countertop, leaning slightly so you could sneak a better look to his face.

The man beat you to it, raising his head so he could direct a careful glance over you, sizing you up. Once he gathered with his eyes every detail of your physique, he nodded. “Yeah, that might be you who I’m looking for,” he said offhandedly, tilting his head to one side.

You coughed, getting an uncomfortable feeling as he eyed you up and down. “What can I help you with?”

He pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. You could not make out what he was about, and that was when you started to get a flight or fight feeling. Like a prey who is being sighted by its killer, far between the lines of discretion.

“I want you to tell me,” he began, keeping his voice low and his brown eyes on your face. “Why does a demon live between humans? Isn’t that surpassing the line of playing with your food?”

You froze in an instant, fear of being caught sizzling underneath your skin. “Who are you?” you asked.

“I should be asking that to you,” he frowned. “Listen, I see that you care about the humans that are around you right now, so, I’d suggest that we take this conversation elsewhere, away from any potential casualties.”

“What if I don’t care about the humans around me?” you countered, making him pause and consider your words. “Like you said, what if I like playing with my food?”

He narrowed his brown eyes, his lips forming a syllable, but then they broke into a grin. “You’re lying.”

You looked at him in pure perplexion. You had heard about demon hunters before in your short life as a demon. But you never had the opportunity to come across one, so you never really cared.

“Are you a hunter?” you asked, silently reprimanding yourself for showing that you were actually shaken by his presence.

He was dark. Alluring, even. If you dared to glimpse past his mask, you saw a smoking light dancing inside him, it was his soul.

“I am,” he nodded politely, as though he had a rule to keep diplomacy before he hunted you down.

“Suppose I don’t get a name?” you smirked, trying to keep your nerves in line.

“Only if I get yours first.”

That was smart. The hunter knew that there was a power in knowing your name. Demons were creatures of subservience. They were ruled by sin, by corruption. But as such, they had to be kept in check somehow. And when you knew a demon’s domain, you could practically rule them. If you were strong enough.

You stuck out your hand to him, smiling before uttering your name. “At your service.”

The hunter raised his brown eyes, you saw the confusion in them. Your brazenness was not something out of the ordinary for demons who were in the human world like you, but the nerve to give out your name like that did its work to shake him. But he took your hand, all the same, slightly parting his mouth. “Yoon Jeonghan.”

Both of you stilled, your hand instinctively tightening around his as a foreign, but also so familiar feeling crept inside you, gripping you wholly. You sucked in a breath, your eyes glazing over. Oh, no, your mind echoed. Is this…

A bond. And not just any bond.

Yoon Jeonghan frowned, his mouth agape, his eyes teary as he shared that feeling with you. And you waited to see if he knew the reason behind the preternatural sensation coiling around his heart. But he remained motionless, did not even protest when you slipped your hand out of his grip. The turbulent fire inside him calmed down when his dark eyes met yours.

The hunter cleared his throat, blinking dumbly as he jumped down the stool, exiting the place without saying a word.

And that is how you meet Yoon Jeonghan. Your soulmate.

A year went by like water slipping through your fingers. Seasons changed and you welcomed each one of them like any regular human would, except that instead of wearing a costume on Halloween like everyone else, you would just display your horns on your head. Instead of celebrating Christmas, you would go out on a hunt for sins, which oddly enough was a day with many to choose from.

But one thing that was a constant in your life for the whole year round, was the push and pull with Yoon Jeonghan.

Many nights had passed since your last encounter with him, the night you confessed to having been starving yourself of human sins in the fruitless attempt to become human yourself. Nights had turned into weeks, then months, three to be exact. Now you were running from him, only stopping to feed from him.

You were out one night, enjoying the buzzing from the streets of the city. The excitement you felt around you from human souls was nearly making your mouth water. That was until you felt someone tracking you, a distant shadow that kept you out of your line of sight.

He had been lurking for too long, following you from town to town, through the shadows that the tall buildings of the city cast. Following you like a monster on a leash.

You smirked secretly, looking over your shoulder to see his silhouette wrapped in shadows. Jeonghan had found you again, just like he always would. As long as you and him lived, you would always cross each other’s paths.

It had become a game for you. And now it was time to run.

Being a demon was freeing in so many ways. Now that you were at your full strength, you were also freed from all kinds of inhibitions. You did not need a house or shelter, you did not possess belongings or extra clothes.

So you just sprung into a run, quickly devising a plan to escape from this city, and hit the next town until Jeonghan found you again. The city passed you in a blur, and soon your surroundings turned into walls made of thick trees.

You were not sure if Jeonghan knew you were playing a game. At this point, he was just as enslaved to it as you were, running away, only to be found by him. An endless push and pull.

But this felt different to all the times he loomed on your back. No, this was a first. Jeonghan kept himself far away from you out of shame, yes. However, this time it was not a shame for liking you, nor not being able to resist you.

Jeonghan was sorry.

And he would watch you tear through a different town until he mustered all the strength he needed to come to you, announcing himself between the shadows, tail between his legs. You were completely familiar with that. But now you just decided to make him suffer a little.

Other times, you did not resist him; you would take him wherever you could, an empty alleyway. The last time you did this, you took him in the backseat of his car, fucking him until he was a complete mess. You would wait until he fell asleep to exit his car quietly and leave him to wake up completely alone.

Yoon Jeonghan was no fool. He knew you were playing hard to get. He knew that what you were doing was payback for all the times he tried to resist you. All the times he tried to pretend that what he felt for you was some sort of divine retribution.

But in truth, he could not keep allowing himself to be with you. You showed up in his life like a comet falling out of the sky, crashing and burning everything around him, leaving him blind to all reason, too stupid to do anything. So stupid that he lost whatever made sense in his life, and he lost you as well.

Even if he did not actually have you.

Jeonghan sat alone in a booth pushed up to the corner of the diner, where he was slowly chewing the last bits of his breakfast, looking out the window pensively.

The pull he had towards you grew stronger, sometimes thinner, but it was always there. Now that he knew that what he felt was a result of something bigger than him, and than you, he had resorted to analyzing it.

After finishing up his plate, he raised his hand to flag the waitress down, asking for another cup of coffee.

You slid to the seat in front of him with a short sigh, fixing your hair with your hands as if you had just finished jogging, which, Jeonghan thought, could have been the case.

The waitress refilled the cup of coffee, and Jeonghan kindly thanked the lady, pushing the cup to you to then hand you the sugar.

“Did you know I was close?” you asked, bewildered at noticing how quickly Jeonghan had learned to discern your proximity by using the bond.

Jeonghan was tempted to say that he also knew how you liked your coffee. Two sugars, no milk. But that had nothing to do with the bond. So, he just nodded with his head.

“Well, that’s no fun,” you muttered, pouring the sugar on the teaspoon, one, two and sending him a look, you poured a little more sugar.

Jeonghan smiled quietly, it was not a happy smile. “I supposed you would grow bored if I stopped following you across the country. I was right.”

You rolled your eyes. “No. I’m here because I’m hungry,” you said flatly, raising your hand to flag the waitress down.

He also knew that. And not only that, but he also knew that you did not need waffles and bacon, your favorite. You needed something that would never be found on a diner’s menu. Or any restaurant’s menu for that matter.

“Can I have waffles with syrup, please?” you asked with a sweet tone, beaming at the lady. “Oh, and can I have bacon with that?”

Jeonghan looked at the way you smiled at the waitress, his stomach tightening a little in both nervousness and something more, it was a foreign feeling.

He noticed how the woman tensed up at your presence. Humans had a natural fight-or-flight response to demons, but with you, they just assumed it was because of your natural beauty. Or your assertiveness.

“And you suppose I can help ease your hunger?” Jeonghan asked, keeping an eye on the surroundings for any signs of danger, in case you and him needed to run.

“Yeah,” you responded in an obvious tone, taking a small sip from your cup of coffee.

Jeonghan noticed the way you carefully pressed your lips on the rim, as though you could burn yourself.

“I mean, how else am I going to pay for this?” you smirked, placing your chin on your hands, expecting him to laugh, or to say something quippy at you.

“Fine,” Jeonghan said, releasing a puffy sigh in annoyance.

He wondered if this would lead to a serious conversation about what happened the last time you talked. But chances were, you were just having more fun torturing him.

He deserved it.

Something deep inside him pulsated, kicking the air out of his lungs. The feeling rippled, it went on as he blinked and found you, looking equally astounded. But you recuperated faster than him, you usually did.

“How did you know?” Jeonghan heard himself blurt, his tone rough as though he had been screaming for hours. “About the bond?”

You cleared your throat, composing yourself on the seat by resuming to stir your coffee. “I’ve lived in the underworld, Jeonghan, I know how a bond behaves and feels like,” you said, eyeing the woman closing up to leave your breakfast on the table. “Thank you, ma’am,” you smiled politely.

“I thought bonds were only made after making a deal with a demon,” Jeonghan mumbled, keeping his tone in a volume only you would be able to hear. “You and I have never struck a deal.”

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Einstein,” you quipped, taking a generous piece of waffles bathed in syrup to your mouth. You moaned blissfully, the sound was not sexual, but it had several eyes drawn to you.

Jeonghan knew why, your voice was sweet, appealing to the human senses. It also had an effect on him, but that was because of an entirely different reason. He cleared his throat too.

“Bonds made with deals or promises are quite common. No, this is different,” you said after gulping down the waffles with coffee. “You and I were made with this bond. It’s always existed for us.”

He looked at you confusedly as you tore through your breakfast. “What do you mean we were made with the bond?”

You dragged the last bit of waffles through the pool of syrup on your plate. “We were born with it.”

“You were born…” he trailed off.

“I was made, Jeonghan,” you pointed your fork at him, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I knew that,” he said, blinking slowly. “But following your logic, you had to be born at the same time as me.”

“Time is different in the underworld,” you reminded him, chewing slowly to enjoy the last bit off your plate. “I’m actually a little bit older than you.”

Jeonghan had assumed that as well. Though he knew you were a fairly younger demon from the ones he has faced, you had to be older than him, guessing by your physical strength alone. “So you’ve known all this time.”

You nodded, pushing your empty plate aside. “Ever since we spoke to each other,” you crossed your arms on the table, directing a serious look at him. “I’ve always known, Jeonghan.”

“You could’ve told me just to toss it at my face,” he pointed, there was no venom in his words, he was as confused as he was the night you left him. “All this time, I thought that this was some sort of retribution, a divine cause and effect I had to endure for wanting to be around you. Why didn’t you tell me?”

At that, you lowered your eyes in guilt. “I never thought it would make a difference. I never thought you would believe me, so I never said anything.”

Jeonghan felt a kind of pain he had never felt before he met you. It coiled around his heart, it was remorse because he knew what you did not want to say, what he could not bring himself to do.

Because even after you told him, he did nothing. It did not make a difference. He still refused you, he refused to give in.

“Can I help you with something else?” the waitress approached, addressing him intently.

You kept your head down, so Jeonghan never saw the glimmer in your eyes from the tears that were beginning to form.

“The bill, please,” he said, but he was quickly distracted.

You were sliding on the seat, walking away from the table, and then pushing the door open, exiting the diner.

“Shit,” Jeonghan muttered under his breath, reaching for his wallet, and pulling out a bill, quickly leaving the place to follow you, knowing that by the time he reached outside, you would be gone.

You were nowhere to be seen, Jeonghan scouted with his gaze his surroundings, were you mocking him again?

When he turned around, he let out a short breath in relief. You were sitting on the passenger seat of his car, aloofly checking the roots of your hair, pretending to ignore him while hiding a smile.

Jeonghan sent his gaze skyward, trying to find some patience in the grim-looking sky. It would rain soon, and you did not have somewhere to crash now that you were effectively on the run and alone.

He decided to go along with whatever crazed plan you were crafting, he felt he was in no position to do otherwise, but to follow. Even if you were just toying with him in revenge.

You followed him with your eyes as he went around the car, yanking the door open and sliding to the seat silently. “Where are we heading to?” you asked, primly tucking your hands between your thighs.

“We’re skipping town,” he said, turning the key on the engine.

“Already?” you turned slightly to get your seatbelt on. “I thought you would like this town.”

“Why is that?” he kept his town flat, trying to keep the discontent at bay.

“It’s lonely,” you said sweetly. “For lonely people such as you.”

“We need the opposite of lonely right now,” he replied, trying to ignore to the best of his ability to omit the fact that the last town he lived in was solely because he could keep an eye on you that way.

“Mn,” you hummed pensively. “You’re no fun when you’re angry and quiet,” you pointed with a knowing tone, turning to look out the window.

Jeonghan arched an eyebrow, trying to appear as nonchalant as ever, he leaned his head to his hand, an elbow propped on the windowsill.

You read his silence, your lip curling a little in a smile. “You know that I can also read you, right?”

“I don’t want to fight with you,” he muttered tiredly, avoiding to look your way.

You clicked your tongue but decided to keep quiet. Jeonghan was frustrated, that much you knew, telling from the rigidness of his movements, the way his hand tightened around the steering wheel. Two fingers rubbed his bottom lip harshly, he kept that motion for so long that you thought that it had to burn him at some point.

But aside from that, you could see the enraged flame inside him, dancing erratically from the moment you showed up at the diner. You knew that your tantrum had run its course, and he was now trying not to tell you how miserable you had made him these past few weeks.

And he knew that you were only turning to him so you could feed. That had been obvious from the moment he saw you. Your skin was colorless and dry, the bags under your eyes were prominent, and not only that, Jeonghan probably assumed that you no longer wanted to consume human souls, only his sins.

Soon, you entered a new city that welcomed you with a big sign, Welcome to Veridian Bay! leading to a bridge crossing over the waterfront and into the big city with big, tall buildings.

You leaned to the window to take a look at how tall the buildings stood, the streets were busy with people, and everything was alive with buzzing sounds. Jeonghan kept driving deep into the city, until you reached a quieter part, away from the tall buildings, the shiny stores and flashy signs.

“What are we doing here?” you asked, looking curiously at the big shopping mall he just parked his car in front of.

“We need to buy clothes,” he directed a judging look at you.

“What’s wrong with mine?” you asked to no end. Your clothes were torn and filthy, another reason why people threw you second looks at every place you walked into, demon allure or not.

Jeonghan exited the car, and you followed him closely, as though you were trying not to lose him in between the people.

“I have a question,” you said, sticking to his side to shield yourself from the weird looks you were receiving. You did not care about it, but you wanted to keep a low profile as much as you could. “What happened to the two hunters?”

“They stopped chasing you,” he replied in a quiet tone, leading you to a department store.

Everything was bright with colors, and shiny lights hanging from the ceiling. Rows of clothing racks are laid in front of you in an elaborate maze. You had been to malls before, but never to one as big as this. And definitely never with Jeonghan.

“Do you think I’m free from them, then?” you yanked your gaze from a row of pretty blouses, your fingers itching to touch the fabric.

“Not by a long shot, no,” he answered, tensing beside you when your arm brushed his. “Choose something quickly, the shorter we stay here, the better.”

You grabbed a plain white t-shirt, measuring it over your torso and facing the mirror where Jeonghan stood, watching you intently. “Do you think this one goes with my body type?” you asked fruitlessly.

He just huffed, rolling his eyes swiftly. “Stop playing,” he said, looking around precatively. “We need to find somewhere safe to stay, and you need to feed soon.”

The way he gritted out the words allowed for the quiet rage simmering inside him slip through. A light shock appeared on his face, much as if he heard his own words and quickly forced himself to composure.

Jeonghan was mad, and you were the reason why the flame inside him was growing into a merciless fire burning inside him.

“Alright,” you hummed, picking a pair of jeans, a long t-shirt and undergarments.

Jeonghan followed you as you made your way to the queue line to pay. His mind was once again buzzing with questions, if anything, the conversation back in the diner left him even more confused.

He had thought all this time that what he felt for you was some kind of joke. The insane lust, the deep craving, the endless nights he spent thinking about you, dreaming about you… all because of a supernatural bond he never had control of.

You made a tiny cooing sound, making him snap his gaze to where you stood in line. You were lifting a finger to match with a baby’s pointer finger. The baby girl was looking over the shoulder of her mother who queued up in front of you. Somehow, you had attracted the focus of the baby, and you were now caught up in her big eyes, in her dimpled hands.

Jeonghan’s stomach twisted violently. You smiled at the baby as she wrapped her tiny hand around your finger, laughing with you. The feeling tightening inside him was completely alien to him, he wanted to get rid of it as you would an illness.

He never understood why it was impossible for him to fight against you. He used to think that your innate allure created that attraction he felt for you, he used to think that you were playing games on him.

But that did not explain one thing. As he watched your joyous smile, he realized that what he felt was not entirely carnal. He recalled what he felt that night he knew you were slipping away, the fear of losing you.

The tight feeling coiled inside his chest when you lifted your eyes at him, keeping that joy with you from being paid attention to by an innocent baby. The interaction had been so pure and out of the ordinary for you that it brought a spark to your dark eyes.

The knot inside him broke free, blooming inside him freely, filling his chest with a warmth that was nearly intoxicating.

“Are you okay, hunter?” you asked quietly, noticing the change in his eyes, the quiet rage dying down at the same time the look of bewilderment on his face set in.

“Yeah,” he forced out, pulling out his wallet from the pocket of his jacket and handing it to you.

“Thank you,” you whispered awkwardly, still shocked at how suddenly his erratic mood disappeared. What added to the shock was that Jeonghan did not lie to you, he was indeed fine, however, the shock on his face was confusing to you.

“One bed, again?” you deadpanned.

Jeonghan closed the door to the small motel room. This one had a leather couch that looked decent compared to the thin white curtains that allowed for the light coming from the street outside to seep through.

“What’s the point in asking for two beds?” Jeonghan shrugged, taking off his black leather jacket as he let out a cough.

“I’d appreciate it if you actually made some effort in swaying me,” you mentioned off-handedly as you started zipping down your hoodie. “I’m still a lady, you know?”

At that, Jeonghan chuckled. “You are as much as a lady as I am a gentleman, so,” he shrugged. “There’s the couch, if you care that much.”

“You’re right,” you snapped your fingers at him. “You can sleep on the couch, I’ll sleep on the bed!”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he said, raising his arms to grab his tight black shirt and pull it over his head.

You stopped, dead in your tracks. Jeonghan had a very deceiving build, most would think he was lean and due to his affection for dark clothes, he masked himself well to curious eyes. But in fact, Jeonghan had a toned body, a low bulk that had been built up due to the nature of his work.

His milky white skin was adorned with scars, bruises and bitemarks from creatures he hunted down. As he removed the sleeves from his arms, he sent you a look. “What?” he blurted.

You were too caught up to come up with a lie, but something deep inside you recoiled in nervousness. “I was just looking at you,” you mumbled meekly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed. “You’re gawking.”

You shrugged. “Can’t blame me. You’d be gawking too if I suddenly decided to strip naked.”

“Tsk,” he smiled playfully, throwing the t-shirt on the couch. “It would be fair game, at least.”

“Shut up,” you sighed, rolling your eyes at him. But still, you stared at his fingers undoing the belt of his black denim jeans, pulling it from the hoops.

“Alright, then,” he said, giving his belt the same treatment, discarding it on the couch. He placed his hands on his hips, his torso forming a perfect inverted triangle. “Are you going to keep playing dumb with me?”

You arched one eyebrow at him, too surprised at his bluntness to even speak. Gaping, you stood there for a second, trying to decide on deflection or acceptance.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you turned your back on him, mustering all the will in you to not glance his way. You started rummaging in the bag of clothes, pulling out an I love kitties shirt that you got as a nightgown. It had a doodle of an orange cat on it.

“Please,” he huffed, and you bit your bottom lip. “You can’t lie to me so don’t try to treat me like I’m stupid.”

“Take a hint, hunter. I don’t want to talk about this,” you said but failed to coat your words with enough venom.

A hand circled around your wrist, pulling you to his body, commanding you to face him. With a gasp, you yanked back, looking at him furiously. But his gaze smothered that fire inside you at once. “You left,” he said, the trouble in his mind mirrored in his dark gaze. “You left me.”

“Yeah, I left because you could not even talk to me, Jeonghan,” you replied, trying to step back from him, the back of your knees finding the bed.

He gave you an incredulous look. “I’ve spent three months chasing you across the fucking country,” he said. “You only stop running when you need to feed from me. I’ve paid enough, don’t you think?”

“I’ll be the one to decide that,” you gritted, betraying yourself. Your eyes started brimming with tears, angry tears, sorrowful tears. They carried all the misery that you had lived as his soulmate.

“What do you want from me?” he demanded, his tone rising in exasperation.

“Nothing,” you muttered, shying away. You lowered your face, bringing a hand to wipe the wetness on your cheeks.

“That’s not true.”

As you raised your head, you involuntarily sniffled. “Well, you know what I want, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan gaped at you for a moment, choking on his argument. He knew then that nothing would give peace to this fight because there was no solution to this.

You wanted to become human. In your mind, it was the only way you could stop feeding from his lust, his greed. It was the only way to make you stop feeding from human souls. And by that, you would not be hunted down for being a demon. Jeonghan would not have to feel remorseful every time he looked at you.

But it was something uncertain. You did not know whether the path to becoming human would even work, or if you would survive it.

“Is there a way to end this?” Jeonghan asked, his heart stammering painfully in his chest.

“End what?” you asked slowly.

He blinked for a long second, gathering his strength. “Is there a way to break the bond?”

The question robbed you of air, and Jeonghan could see it in your gentle exhale. Your eyes glinting with sorrow, wide and looking at his face as though you had trouble assimilating his words.

“You-you want to break the bond?” you asked, stuttering under an overwhelming pain.

“Is it possible?” he pressed, breathing hard, trying to shake off the numbing pain in his heart.

“N-no, I don’t know,” you sucked in a breath, which he understood to be a sob. “D-do you want to break it, Jeonghan?”

“If it means we’re free from each other then yes,” he whispered, hating the look in your eyes with a passion that he could not stand. He was causing that pain and in turn, he felt it too.

But maybe what you felt for each other was not real. Maybe once the bond is broken, you would realize that what you felt for him was all a farce, he thought.

You rubbed the pads of your fingers against the corner of your eye. “M-maybe,” you mumbled. “But I don’t think so. One of us would have to die, I think,” you spoke with uncertainty because you were sure that the bond would not be broken, not even then.

“You don’t know if your way of becoming human will work,” he mumbled, trying to reason with you. But the truth was, he felt guilty for making you cry.

And you could feel the guilt, it swarmed around him like an angry cloud.

“I know one thing,” you raised your eyes, heedlessly showing him how affected you were by this. “I wouldn’t have to feel how fucking miserable you are when you’re with me,” you spat.

Jeonghan went still, as though petrified. The only thing that moved in him was his gaze, heavy with a dangerous darkness, it coasted over the features of your face. “Is that what you think I am? Miserable?”

“No, Jeonghan, I know it,” you replied with a shaky tone. “I can feel it in you. When you look at me when you touch me.”

He yanked his gaze from you, running a hand on his face while blinking his anger away rapidly. “You don’t know shit,” he hissed at you, motioning to turn his back on you but quickly decided against it.

“Oh, yeah?” you taunted.

“Yeah, you don’t know shit,” he doubled down, his voice raw. “You think that because you can sense what I feel it means that it’s all because of you,” he spat, taking a step closer to you but you raised a hand, trying to stop him, but he insisted, grabbing your hands to stop you instead.

“Then what is it?” you pressed.

“Ever since I met you nothing has made sense in my life,” he hissed, leaning over you. “I hate myself,” he shuddered, swallowing hard. “I hate myself because even if you were human, I wouldn’t have anything to offer you. I can’t even say that I’m sorry because it’s the truth. I can’t give you what you want.”

You looked at him in plain shock. It was such a shame that the only person in the world who saw you for who you were still rejected you. The pain from that realization shook you hard, so hard in fact that you physically recoiled from him, closing your eyes to let your tears go.

Jeonghan watched your tears roll down your cheeks, the silence in the room broken by the occasional intake of breath coming from you. But he stood there, silently cursing life and its way of making fun of him. He was raised to not want anything in life. Not shelter, nor warmth. His sad world, cold as ice and hard as stone. He would have followed this path blindly until the day of his untimely death.

But the truth was, he did want one thing in life. He wanted you. And it was killing him not to admit that.

“I…” you croaked, opening your eyes after a long second. A gaping hole in your heart tried to suck you in. “I thank you for the clothes, Jeonghan,” you said dejectedly, turning away from him and walking towards the door.

Jeonghan stared at the wall in front of him, your arm brushing his as you passed him by. His mind reeled wildly, considering what he went through the last time you walked away from him. “Where do you think you’re going?” he blurted.

“That is none of your concern.”

“Like hell it is,” he said, grabbing your arm before you could reach for the doorknob. You sent him another one of those looks, a dangerous animal realizing it had been caught. “You’re not safe out there.”

“Like you give a shit,” you said, pushing him away with one hand on his chest.

But he grabbed that hand, pulling you to his frame with a sharp tug. “Yeah, what do you even know about me?” he challenged, his words cold. “I wouldn’t be protecting you, chasing you if I didn’t give a shit about you.”

“I would prefer that you didn’t,” you bit back.

“That’s not true,” he said, but his tone rose in desperation. He released your arm, fear crossing his features when he realized that if you walked, he would have to let you go.

“You have a very weird way to show that you care, Jeonghan,” you mumbled, understanding where that fear came from. Because all this time, you accepted the turbulence in his thoughts, in his soul. If you decided to go, he would let you.

The heavy darkness in his gaze dissolved as the features of his face relaxed. The gentle resignation swept over him, reminding you how hard it was for him to even comprehend what the bond was.

Jeonghan had two ways to show his emotions, either through carnal desire or brute force. One of them was the one that was unleashed in the vicious cycle he had with you.

But you welcomed it all the same. He took one step towards you, reaching for you as though fearful you might step away. His hand found the side of your head, the other sliding on your waist, gripping you gently before his lips met yours.

The kiss was slow, tentative at first, showing you an apologetic need to you. But you were still to fueled up from the argument, finding his bare chest with your hands to push him off you.

Jeonghan looked sad for a second, but he quickly understood that you were angry, and looking to make him pay. You pushed him again, more forcefully, but he was stronger than you, stepping towards you like a magnet that refused to keep away from you.

His hands returned to their previous positions, as you found his shoulder with one hand, his nape with the other, welcoming him with a vehement kiss. He groaned under your touch, revelling at the fact that you were kissing him even though you were being harsh with it.

Jeonghan broke the kiss abruptly. “I’m sorry,” he gasped, the turbulence inside him dying down, like smothering a fire.

“You should be sorry,” you mumbled on his lips, diving for another hungry kiss before pushing him by the shoulders, and shoving him onto the couch behind him. He sat down, gasping in surprise at the brute force you used on him. A wolfish grin appeared on his lips when you walked over to him, sitting down on his lap, straddling him.

His hands welcomed you, grabbing you by the waist to give you a squeeze. He thought of all the nights he has had the opportunity to be like this with you, and the nights he wished he had never let you go. “I don’t want to break it,” he confessed, tilting his head back to meet your eyes. “The bond. I don’t want to break it,” he repeated.

“Then why did you say…?”

“What if what we feel for each other isn’t real?” he blurted the tight feeling inside him protesting in pain when he spoke those words.

You smiled at him sweetly, making him feel worse. “What do you feel for me, Jeonghan?” you baited.

He swallowed hard, instead of communicating with words, he carefully brought a hand to cup your cheek, his fingers caressing your skin in the process. He pulled your face closer to his, eyeing your lips and then your eyes before giving you a sweet kiss. You reciprocated the kiss, outlining his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue, slowly meeting his.

“Do you think all people with bonds feel this for each other, Jeonghan?” you mused. When he was unable to speak out an answer, you continued. “I think the bond only helped us find each other. The rest just happened on its own.”

Jeonghan listened to your words intently, his gaze coasting the features of your face. You’re your eyes, to your mouth and back again. His fingers grabbed the hem of your t-shirt, tugging it up your torso.

You raised your hands, helping him take your t-shirt off. He sighed, his hands returning to hold you, caressing your naked back freely, his breath fanning on the plain of your breasts when he leaned over to plant a kiss on your skin.

You raked his hair with your fingers, getting rid of the hair tie holding his ponytail, making him groan as your fingernails caressed his scalp. His lips reached the swell of one of your breasts, planting wet kisses, enjoying the way you always responded to his touch; your skin prickling in the wake of his lips.

He encircled his arms around your waist, using his strength to trade the positions of your body, placing your body on the sofa, him crawling on top of you. Then he kissed you, he kissed you with such force that you thought you might break. It was electrifying to have his lips on yours, him moaning your name in between kisses.

Your hands explored his chest, fingertips lingering on his scars, his nipples, his bellybutton. You undid the button of his jeans, tucking your hands between his underwear and his ass, feeling his skin freely as you pushed his jeans and boxers down.

Once he was completely bare, and on top of you, he took his turn taking your shorts and underwear off. He did so without wasting time, effectively leaving you bare on the couch, and under his body.

He leaned over you, placing a hand beside your shoulder to prop his weight on it, lowering the lower half of his body on you. His skin was warm, you could feel everything, the beating of his heart, the soft pubic hairs brushing your skin. He was hard already, his cock pressing on your lower tummy.

There was a pause, as soon as your naked bodies came into contact with each other, something came alight inside you. You knew Jeonghan felt it too, because his reaction was the same as yours. Like sparks firing wildly inside your chest, lingering on your skin, robbing you of air.

“Jeonghan,” you whispered shakily, trying to hold onto the feeling fluttering in your chest.

“I know,” he breathed, leaning so he could give soft pecks to your lips. “I know, baby.”

You sighed a moan, it sounding pathetic as you let him adore your skin. He continued kissing you, your lips, your earlobe, your throat. He hummed softly when he breathed in the scent of your skin when he tasted you on his tongue as he licked your breasts.

You sucked in a breath, caressing his hair as he took one of your nipples in his mouth. “Fuck,” you whispered.

But he was in a hurry, trailing down your torso with soft, open-mouthed kisses. You moaned, trembling under him as he inched closer and closer to where you needed him the most. Jeonghan knew you better than anyone else on earth, sometimes, you thought he knew your body better than yourself.

“Shit,” you hissed, clenching your jaw as he kissed your mound, pressing his tongue on you’re your skin with a raspy moan on his part. You parted your legs for him, allowing him to lick a broad stripe between your pussy lips, blissfully drinking you in.

The room was flooded with a series of sweet, airy moans from your part. You called out his name multiple times as he ate you out, licking your pussy with soft smacking sounds and low hums. All you could focus on was his tongue on you, gliding on your folds, teasing your clit with flitting motions.

His hands cupped your breasts, the pads of his thumbs swirling around your nipples, pinching softly to bring out more sweet noises from your mouth. You writhed uncontrollably on the sofa, keeping your hands on the back of his head to try and anchor yourself to enjoy his mouth pleasuring your pussy.

But as you drew nearer to your release, you could not just hold out any longer, pressing your hands on the back of his head and pushing your hips to grind your pussy on his tongue. Your mouth parted. “Jeonghan,” you whined, feeling his mouth relax, letting you ride him.

Moving your hips faster on his mouth, you felt his hands squeezing your tits gently, his thumbs teasing your nipples, pushing you to the edge. You closed your eyes as your sweet, sweet release washed over you, sizzling beneath your skin.

Your muscles went lax on the sofa, moaning out his name repeatedly as you felt like dissolving in the aftershocks of your orgasm. But you decided against it in a second, grabbing Jeonghan by the shoulders and urging him to sit back on the sofa.

“What–,”

“Let me ride you,” you mumbled, cutting in before he could protest.

Jeonghan nodded obediently, and you took one whole second to comprehend that he was just letting you do whatever you wanted to him. No complaints, no snarky comments.

You straddled him, grabbing his cock with one hand and jerking him off a few times just to see the muscles of his face go soft. You smiled, shifting on top of him so you could guide the tip of his cock to your pussy, sinking in him slowly. “Gods,” he breathed, closing his eyes.

“Keep your eyes on me,” you said softly, holding his chin with one hand. You lifted your hips slightly, letting them roll on him as you sat back down, eliciting a short groan from him. “That’s it, baby. Feel me. Do you like that?”

Jeonghan blinked slowly, pushing his tongue on his bottom lip before nodding.

��Words, Jeonghan, use them.”

He obediently kept his gaze on you, like you were the moon, and he was looking at you for the first time in ages. “I love it,” he replied with a strangled tone. “I love your pussy. I love how it feels around me.”

Jeonghan dropped his head back on the headrest of the couch, swallowing his moans, his fingers clenching around your hips. “I love your taste too,” he choked out, much as if he needed to say it but barely found the strength to do so, enraptured by pleasure.

One of the corners of your lips curled slowly as you rolled your hips on him, inch by inch, tortuously slow. “Oh, yeah?” you breathed, closing your eyes briefly to savour the feeling of his worshipping washing over you, making your blood dance under your skin.

“Yes,” he hissed out the word and now you knew he was trying to resist himself. “I miss your smell when you’re not near me. Drives me crazy.”

You giggled quietly, knowing that he was letting go of his deepest thoughts.

His fingers dug into your skin hard enough to leave marks. You opened your eyes, seeing the strain in his voice reflecting on his face, his teary eyes coasting all over your body. “Le-let me come, please. I needed you so much, baby. I don’t think I’ll last any longer.”

You held onto his lean shoulders to lift your hips off him, his wet cock slipping out of your walls and leaning to one side on his lower abdomen, the tip was reddened, a vein tracing on his wet shaft.

Jeonghan groaned, closing his eyes tightly to let out a shaky sigh. “Please,” he sighed. “I want to come inside you,” he said but did not make a move to slip his cock back into your cunt.

“Say you’re sorry,” you murmured.

And there it was, the hole in your chest opening once again, sucking you back in.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, not wasting a second, he said again, “I’m sorry, I let you go.”

You showed him an empty smile, which you pressed onto his lips, grabbing his chin again. “Don’t let me go again,” you pleaded but masked your words to sound sweet, not letting it show that his apology, though forced out of the need for release, was making you feel pain.

Jeonghan returned the light smile, though he was genuine with it. “Never,” he whispered, wrapping an arm on your lower back to keep you in balance as you sank down on his cock again, making him shudder in pleasure. “I promise.”

“Jeonghan–,” you gasped, pausing the sway of your hips on him to look at him perplexedly. “Don’t make promises, you’ll–,”

“I promise I won’t walk away from you,” he said, his dark eyes coasting all over the features of your face.

You closed your eyes, shuddering hard at the tingling rush of blood swimming in your veins; the bond tightening due to the force of the promise setting. “Jeonghan, don’t,” you whispered in plea.

Stopping the movement of your hips completely, you hugged his shoulders, trailing the hair of his nape with your fingers. You breathed raggedly, just as he was by the weight of a new promise binding you both.

“I want this,” he whispered shakily. “Let me.”

“You don’t know what this means for you,” you warned, a violent shudder shaking your body on top of him.

He hugged you tightly to his body as if shielding you from the world. “I do, and I want it,” he reassured.

“Jeonghan…”

But he just went on, “Like you said, we’re meant to be, we’ve always have been,” he said with a low raspy tone, blinking in an enamoured way at you. “And I am sorry it took me so long to accept it. I’m sorry.”

A sob coiled in your throat, fingers curling around the long strands of his dark hair. “I forgive you,” you whispered, daring to give him a shy kiss.

Jeonghan trembled underneath you, reciprocating your kiss with so much delicacy that it could break your heart. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

You stilled completely, your breath coiling in your throat. “Me too,” you finally confessed.

“It’s okay, baby,” he breathed, moving his arms so he no longer wrapped your body in them, but his hands gripped your hips, urging you to retake the motion that he so desperately needed.

So you did, swaying your hips on top of him, moaning sweetly when his hands roved all over your back, caressing your skin, his fingers trailing on the spot he knew your wings grew. You shuddered hard, sinking on his length with more urgency. “Jeonghan,” you moaned, crushing your mouth on him.

Jeonghan hummed in response, smiling at you when you broke the kiss off to see his face. The smile was of genuine bliss, mixed with the pleasure of being so utterly yours, forever. It was something similar to insanity what he felt, but he was aware of it, giving himself into it. “I love you,” he drawled lazily, his eyes glazing over the image of you on top of him.

“J-jeonghan,” you forced out, a euphoric wave swarming inside you, better than anything you had ever felt in your life.

And he felt it too, consuming him in fiery waves. “I love you,” he repeated, enjoying the feeling sizzling beneath his skin, lingering on the muscles of his face.

“F-fuck,” you grabbed onto the headrest of the couch, your fingers ripping into the fabric. “Please–,” you choked out, slamming your hips down on him, moaning out loudly as another orgasm hit you hard.

Jeonghan did not love you. Not like in fairy tales, or romance movies. But he was not lying either, you could feel the genuine calm of his realization as he drawled the words out. He could no longer resist it, nor keep the feeling to himself any further. Jeonghan did not love you, he was worshipping you wholly.

It was rapturing, if it was not before. You came on top of him, loudly, walls clamping around him, making him moan with you. His hands held your hips, urging him to keep moving them so he could also reach his high with you.

But the only thing he needed was to sneak a glance up your face, tears of pleasure brimming in your eyes as your orgasm shook hard inside you. That tipped him over the edge, pushing his hips up so he could spill himself deep inside your walls with a loud, raspy groan that resounded across the room.

“Jeonghan,” you kept moaning his name, hiding your face on the curve of his neck. Your breath fanning on his skin forced out a shudder that made you smile.

He responded with a smile of his own, but his was lazy, drunk over the euphoria coursing through you, the same that coursed through his. “I love you,” he whispered again, clutching your hips gently, moving his hands to your thighs.

Ever since you met him, his lust and need for you have been making you stronger. But now, the near maddening love that brimmed for you drove you to feel so full that you seemed to glow. You stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, breathing hard. He was still inside your body, relishing in the warmth, the wetness, the blissful look in your eyes.

Your hand slid beneath his chin, leaning towards him to prop a featherlight on his lips. “I love you too,” you breathed, feeling like a child who felt pure joy for the first time.

He cursed under his breath, his hands roaming all over your skin as you littered his face with kisses, trailing down to his neck where you sucked his skin into your mouth, marking red spots all over him. He chuckled lazily. “Ready for round three?”

“Mmn, I think I’ll pass out,” you said, giggling at yourself.

“Tired already?” he asked, searching your face with his gaze.

“It’s just…” you sighed, catching your breath but your heart stammered in your chest. “I didn’t expect this.”

“Didn’t you, really? Was it too much?” he hummed bringing his hands to cup your cheeks.

You shook your head slightly, pressing a palm to the back of his hand. “So is this your way to tell me you want this?” you asked.

Jeonghan went still for a second, his gaze lingering on the features of your face illuminated only by the warm light of the lamp. “The odds will be against us,” he said.

“Well I’m willing to bet on us,” you said with a light smirk. “Are you?”

Jeonghan nodded, the avid look in his eyes not quite brushing off. “I’m tired of running from this,” he slipped a hand on your nape, pulling you to a quick kiss. “I want you. I want it to be you and me, as we’re destined to be.”

You drew in a shaky breath, reciprocating the featherlight kiss. “Okay,” you whispered. “Then it’s us.”

“I want nothing more, baby,” Jeonghan said.

You bumped the tip of your nose with his gently, eyeing him. “What about what you said? About not being able to be with me?”

“I don’t care. I’ll quit that life. I’ll stop hunting,” he muttered.

“And then what?” you mused.

“I can adapt quickly,” he replied, and you chuckled. “I’ll take up a boring human job, we could find somewhere to live in a small town. You’re not the only one who can blend in the human world, you know?”

Okay, you breathed, the glint in your eye told him that you were happy. It was the first time he saw that in you, the first time he had been the cause of that glint.

So he kept going. “I can take you to dates, take you to those fairgrounds, do normal boring shit humans do,” he muttered faintly, closing his lips on yours.

“You would do that, Jeonghan?” you asked softly, pulling back to see his face. “I mean, you would quit everything?”

“To be with you, I would.”

You leaned your face forward again, pressing your forehead with his. “I love you,” you mumbled, brushing his lower lip with the pad of your thumb.

Jeonghan shuddered gently, but everything inside him came alight with the strength of a thousand suns. Now, if he knew whether a demon could be capable of loving or not was beyond his lucidity at the moment. You were only capable of feeling such things after you first attempted to become human. So the concept of love was as new to you as it was to him.

“I love you,” he whispered back.

“Can we go to bed?” you asked sheepishly, fighting off the urge to nestle in his warmth, to press your nose against the crook of his neck. “I’m ready to pass out.”

“Let’s go to bed,” he replied, noticing the languor in your eyes, blinking slowly.

That was the first time Jeonghan held you through the night without wondering what the morning would bring. For the first time in knowing you, he did not feel guilty for nestling in your warmth.

He stared at your face as you both shared the bed. You were lying on your tummy, one arm draped over him, your head lying on his chest, sleeping soundly in his arms. He languidly brought the pads of his fingers to draw circles on your shoulder, earning soft hums and sighs from you.

He had never felt this happy.

The following morning, you were skipping town again. Jeonghan had woken up with the idea of searching for a town to settle down for a while, and in the meantime, you and him would start planning.

You were returning to the bedroom, draped in a bath towel, your hair damp as you watched Jeonghan grabbing your clothes and his from the night before. He was dressed already, clad in black clothes: jeans, boots, a sleeveless tank top and a zipper hoodie.

Jeonghan approached you to drop a featherlight kiss on your lips. “I’ll go downstairs to return the key,” he informed you. “See you in the parking lot.”

“Yeah, okay,” you whispered, closing your eyes to enjoy the light kisses he left on your face before he stepped back.

“Don’t take too long,” he advised, reluctant to step away from you. So much so that he came back, taking two steps towards you just so he could kiss you quickly, eliciting a joyful laugh out of you.

“Okay, okay, I won’t,” you replied, watching him leave the room finally.

Jeonghan sucked in a breath, shuddering from the cold air receiving him as he went down the stairs. First, he crossed the parking lot in front of the motel, opening the door to his car to leave your bag on the passenger seat. Closing the door, he walked back to the front desk where he rang the buzzer, propping his elbows on the high top and waited.

He felt you before you could even make it to him, drawing a smile on his face when you hugged him from behind. “Go to the car, I’ll be there in a minute,” he mumbled, turning over his shoulder to see your face.

You showed him a playful smile, standing on your tiptoes to give him a kiss. “Don’t take too long,” you whispered, turning away to cross the parking lot to where his car was parked.

He rang the buzzer again, tapping his fingers impatiently. He looked around, but no one was to be seen or heard around the place. In fact, it was too quiet for a Friday night in a motel. Something’s not right, he thought, leaning over the desk, only to discover that there were no personal items, nothing to indicate that anyone was working in the place.

He focused his hearing, the noise coming from the ice machine making it harder to find another sign of life around him. But the fact was, there was no one else around. His heart sunk to his stomach.

“Jeonghan?” you called, worry echoing in your voice.

He turned around, facing the parking lot. It was too late. “Run!” Jeonghan bellowed from the opposite side, starting to run towards you as two hunters emerged from the thicket of trees, grabbing you. One of them seized you with his arms, while the other brought his fist to the center of your face, knocking you out on the spot.

He would have been able to reach you, but another hunter got to him first, knocking him to the hard ground, making it impossible for him to fight back, or to stop the hunter from getting his car keys out of his pocket.

So he watched as you were shoved into the trunk of his own car, and the two hunters who had grabbed him got into it and drove away, leaving him with another hunter to fight against. And you, being taken from him.

› author's note: heyoooooo

this has been such a ride huh. i never expected my short drabble to turn into series but i guess i should've known better lol

stay tuned for more!

!! PART FOUR COMING SOON !!

toodles

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joaniscruzing · 3 days ago

Text

echoes in the elixirs

WOOHOOOO yay this fic is finally done! i had so much fun writing this! thank you to everyone who supported the last fic i did, i was so happy to see so much interest! special shoutout to @joj0-thesimp for requesting and proofreading beforehand! per usual, requests are ALWAYS welcome! I write for jinx, vi and caitlyn, and do take smut requests.

also, i did my research on the herbs. a good amount of people predict that Jinx struggles with schizophrenia, which its symptoms can be alleviated with ginkgo. please let me know if my research is wrong, that way i can fix this :)

summary: jinx, looking rather off, enters your apothecary, to which you take care of her for the night.

warnings: mention of jinx's mental health issues, mention of seizures, lots of fluff, herbs are basically meds for jinx, jinx needs a hug, one-bed trope, cuddling

“Have a great day!” you called as you gave your product to your client. In the Undercity, every day in the apothecary was quite a busy one. Hundreds of people would file in every day, as they would trade in for your elixirs and remedies that would cure their pain and suffering, even if it was just for a while. The atmosphere was always loud and bustling, making you struggle to keep up.

However, when Jinx would arrive in your shop, things would usually calm down for the amount of time she was there. Business would slow down, and it was usually just you and her alone in the store. Or maybe it wasn’t, and you were just so enamored by Jinx to even notice. Either way, Jinx was your one time to stop and take a breather during the day, which was ironic, considering her electrifying, energetic presence.

“So, do you have my order, sugar?” Jinx would ask when she would enter.

“Sure do! Right here,” you’d always answer. However, today, there was something different. Jinx seemed like there was some sort of hole inside her. She hadn’t shown up for a while, since Silco had died, Piltover had been attacked, and she had had to hide to stay alive.

Today, however, she entered the store, a hood over her head, and her head low. Not to your surprise, instead of greeting you with those words, she browsed the store first, looking around, and generally not communicating with anyone. Understandable. However, you saw she was shaking as if winter’s frost had bitten her, and she had been without a coat. Trying not to overthink it too much, you went on with your business, packing up and giving your orders and occasionally convincing customers to buy more. When your final order was given, you left your table to check up on Jinx.

“Hey Jinx, are you okay?”

She seemed startled by your words, as if she didn’t expect you to come up to her and ask her that. She immediately tried to leave the store, ultimately avoiding your question.

“Jinx!” you called after her, grabbing her arm. “Do you need anything?”

“Yeah,” Jinx admitted, choked up in tone, “I need a shit ton of ginkgo biloba. More than you usually give.” Your stomach drops. Fortunately, now you know exactly what’s going on, and what you can do to help her.

“Is it getting worse?” you ask, turning Jinx around, and holding her shoulder. Her face was all you needed as an answer. Tear streaks lined her face, black and mixed up with her makeup. Her fingernails were unpainted and outlined with her blood from picking at the skin around it so much. The only distinct features that stayed were her two long braids, still hanging off her head and cascading past her waist to her ankles.

“With Silco dead, I just… don’t feel important anymore. They’re getting louder. I can’t sleep, or work, or do anything, I-” Jinx divulges, her head in her hands. You remove her hands from her face and replace them with your own.

“Jinx, do you need to stay here tonight? I can make you some food, and make you a nice tea with the ginkgo, as well as some lavender to calm you down. Whatever you need.”

“How much ginkgo?”

“The usual dosage I give you. Any more could make things a lot worse. Plus, the lavender will calm you down, help you sleep.”

“How much worse? Like what, I pass out for a week or something?”

“Jinx, have you ever heard of a seizure?”

“Oh. I guess I could stay the night. It’s not like I have anything better to do at home or anything.” With that, you closed up your shop, locking the doors, and covering the windows, that way no one knew you were secretly housing Piltover’s most wanted criminal.

You took the time to make Jinx a nice meal, as you knew she already didn’t eat enough, let alone whatever her eating habits were during this tough time of hers. As the meal cooked, you also ground up some lavender and ginkgo, which you then put into a bag in order to prepare her tea. After that, you left the kitchen in the back of your shop real quick to check on Jinx.

“Shut up! She wants to help me, I know it!” you heard her shouting, pacing around the room. Before you knew what you were doing, you ran up to her and hugged her as tightly as you could, making sure she knew that you did care. You heard her breathing slow down, and her body unwind as her tense state left her.

“You good, Jinx?” you asked. She pulled away to look at you, surprised.

“Why do you even care this much?”

“Look, you’ve told me a few things about yourself here and there. And it sucks. Other than the herbs I know you need to calm down, I know you need to be taken care of right now. You need someone to be there for you. And I want to be there for you right now.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re nice to be around.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re funny, and caring, and innovative, and your presence always brightens my day.” With this, Jinx’s round, purple eyes widen.

“I brighten your day?”

“Yes, Jinx. You brighten my day. I look forward to seeing you on the days you’re to come pick up your herbs just so I can see you, even if it’s for a few minutes. Jinx, everyone here is so down to business, and you’re the one who always lingers. Well, sometimes. Other times you were afraid of getting caught for sneaking out, so you were in and out.”

Jinx hugs you this time, burying her face in your chest.

“You’re a good person, don’t ever forget that,” Jinx discloses, tightening her grip.

“Okay, hate to let you go, but I do need to check in on the food and tea.” Jinx holds on as you struggle your way to the kitchen, making sure the food didn’t burn during the moment between the two of you. Luckily, everything was ready, and in about five minutes, dinner had been served for you both. Jinx’s tea helped her greatly, calming her down. The sense of calmness in her eyes brought relief to yours, as you were glad to know that Jinx’s head would slow down for a bit. She was also happy to eat the meal you cooked, which, per your prediction, was the first proper meal she had had in a very long time. After your scrumptious meal, you both prepared for bed. However, there was one small kink in the works of your plan to take care of Jinx; there was only one bed.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you assured, “I can sleep on the floor.”

“Are you sure? I can sleep there too,” Jinx replied. You put your foot down though, insisting that she needed a proper sleep. It truly didn’t worry you at all. You began to lay down on the ground, preparing for your sleep. Just as you were about to close your eyes, you heard Jinx’s voice from the corner.

“Could you maybe sleep in the bed with me?”

“Yeah, is everything okay?”

“I just, haven’t slept in a new place that wasn’t where I was holed up in for a long time. Plus, you’re comforting to be around.” You get up, pillows and blankets in your arms, and settle into the bed with Jinx. She clutches onto your waist, her legs wrapping around yours. It takes every fiber in you to not turn around and spoon Jinx right there and then. However, your bountiful dinner, Jinx’s tea, and the calming atmosphere put both of you right to sleep.

so. i originally was going to make this some sort of a love story, but i felt like i couldn't considering jinx's mental state in this fic. shall i draft a part 2/ time jump where they get together?

taglist: @ananas26t @stupendousbananasharkcop @sarcasm-is-my-form-of-attack @t-wylia @emiliaisdead @ihatethis222 @west-c0ast-00 @shootingc @iliterallyhavenoideawhattosay @sweetstarfalls @klerns-birdie

(btw, this is the largest taglist i've had per explicit requests. thank yall so much for supporting <3)

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soft-beams · 10 hours ago

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caitvi x f!reader, established!vi x reader

caitlyn's nervous and you're there to...help.

-----

"Keep her alive, sweetheart," Vi says to you, leaning in to peck your cheek. "I'll be right back."

Then she's headed down to the hall to see Babette. Leaving you and Caitlyn standing in the hallway of the Brothel, noises of the various sort sounding left and right.

This isn't anything new to you; you're undercity born, and it isn't uncommon to hear unsavory noises now and again. People fuck everywhere down here, it's surprising that a lot of it is happening in the Brothel.

But you can tell Caitlyn is nervous with how she fidgets. Her eyes are darting all over, cheeks delicately flushed as she's exposed to what most Topsiders aren't exposed to. She's on edge, looking as if she's about to burst out of her own skin.

So you attempt to comfort her, aiming a small smile her way which is weakly returns.

"You've gotta try and relax, y'know?" You tell her, leaning against the wall behind you. "Being in here is all about being confident and letting people know you aren't from out of town."

"Easy for you to say," Caitlyn grumbles, still looking around, her body tight and rigid. "I wasn't...I'm not used to—"

"I know," you assure her, smiling and hold out your hand. "I'm here to help so we can, at least, survive until Vi comes back. Let's find an empty room and pretend you're my client or something."

Caitlyn looks down at your hand before grasping it, allowing herself to be led down the hallway. She notes how soft your hands feel, along with the small ridges of callouses that lay on the width of your palm. A stunning contrast that feels...very nice.

You quickly find an empty room and slip the both of you inside it. Then you perch yourself onto the couch, sinking into the cushions with a pleased sigh. Caitlyn watches you from the doorway, wondering what's to happen next.

But you leading her is a common theme this evening, your eyes pining her down as you beckon her with a curl of your finger. Caitlyn feels herself go flush, the sight of someone as beautiful as you calling her forth not going unnoticed to her.

She steps forward, ready to sink into the couch by your side, when she thinks of Vi and stops.

You notice.

"What's wrong?" You ask, concerned, and Caitlyn looks behind her, as if Vi's been there watching her eye up her girlfriend. She swallows and asks:

"Is this okay? It's not going to...make Vi upset?"

You stare at her for a second before your lips curve into a sly smile.

"Why? Do you like me or something?"

Caitlyn quickly shakes her head, so fast it pains her neck and she's saying, "No, of course not! I mean, I do like you as a friend a-and I enjoy your c-company and—"

You lean forward with a laugh, reaching out to take her hands and pull her onto the couch.

"I'm just messing with you!" You exclaim, laughing still. "Listen, Vi's not gonna get mad at me pretending to flirt with you. We've been apart for seven years and are still strong, our relationship is rock solid." Then you smile, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Caitlyn's ear, the touch leaving a burning sensation. "Besides, I really don't think she'd mind. Two hotties sitting real close and personal as they talk about who knows what."

You're really close when you say that, your breath warm over Caitlyn's mouth, your knee pressed against hers and—

Caitlyn swallows.

#vi x reader #caitvi x reader #caitlyn x reader #arcane x reader #arcane league of legends #my writing

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blood-smiles · 17 hours ago

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𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ⊹₊⟡⋆

TW: Gore description at the end of the chapter . icky stuff, reader has a little bit of androphobia.

Ever since you were a little kid you dreamed of being a nurse, any kind of nurse, you really just wanted to help for the greater cause. Was it you trying to indulge a savior complex? Perhaps.

Now that you were in fact at camp, training under a more experienced nurse you came to realize that this place was so so much worse than you expected.

These soldiers were no walk in the park, many of them were traumatized from war, sometimes even refusing to take their medicine because it would numb their pain, the only thing that let them know that they were in fact alive.

It broke your heart.

Then came the harassment, some shouted and tried to swipe at you, doing all they could to keep you away from them. sometimes it was just lustful men, not seeing a woman in so long causing them to grow impatient, some would grab you, look you up and down like a fresh piece of meat. Ugh, disgusting.

You hauled around a basket full of medicine and fresh gauze, turning and weaving through the make shift hospital until reaching a white tent .

You unzipped the “door” and shimmied inside the tent, two people came into view, you greeted your senior nurse and the injured soldier politely.

The nurse turned around, clasping her hands together in what seemed a pleading gesture.

“Oh! (Y/N) there you are, can you take over this one for me? There’s another man badly injured in another tent.”

What? No, please don’t leave me with him!

You sent a pathetic look to the other nurse, begging her not to leave you all alone.

You turned your gaze over to the man sitting on the stretcher, the grip on your basket growing tighter.

He was fucking huge, his body being muscular and tall at the same time. His face obscured by dirtied bandages, all sorts of grime and dried blood splashed on his bandages like faded watercolor.

The nurse gave you a soft pat on the shoulder as she left in a haste.

You cleared your throat, shrugging off the discomfort in your system and getting to work swiftly.

You approached the sink, letting the cold water run over your skin, allowing the soap suds to cleanse the impurities and leave a fresh and pure exterior.

You patted your hands against a paper towel and grabbed the basket containing the various first aid equipment.

“I’m (Y/N) and I will be your nurse for today.” The practiced words rolled off your tongue smoothly, although your expression betrayed your confident rambling.

The man glanced up at you, steely blue-grey eyes glaring at you through golden eyelashes.

You swallowed thickly, quickly observing his physical state, you could point out two or three injuries. But with his face covered you can barely make out if he needs anything to be done on his face.

“I need to remove your bandages to clean injuries below them.” You folded your hands in front of your stomach, furrowing your brows while waiting for him to shout at you.

But the boisterous voice never came, instead a soft grunt answered along with the shuffling of fabric.

The dirtied bandages coiled around his neck, draping over his shoulders as he nodded his head to get his hair out of his vision.

You gazed at his features.. He was beautiful.

Not the delicate flower type of beauty, not something to be gently handled or protected. It was more like a rough, jagged beauty, alike to the beauty of a rusted, jagged claymore, flowers curled along its hilt and blade.

Blonde hair curled in between his eyebrows in a sort of X shape. His features were strong and sharp, his expression stony and serious. His slightly tanned skin decorated with scars and small cuts.

“Are there any serious injuries you have right now?”

The man rolled up his stained tank top to reveal bandages wrapped around his ribs, light pink stains splashed on the surface of the yellowed bandages.

You took a deep breath, putting some gloves on to begin inspecting the wound.

You slowly unraveled the bandages, revealing a half-scabbed half-fresh wound underneath, you glanced up at the large man to get a look at how well he was fairing with the pain.

Only the slightest twitch of his eyebrow and the soft flushing along his cheekbones were telling you that he was feeling pain.

He glanced down at you, pupils dilating for a moment before looking entirely away.

After a little you made sure to send him on his way, his right side was wrapped in bandages and thoroughly disinfected.

You made sure to clean the minor cuts on his face too, medical tape covering some of them.

You grabbed your clipboard, recording his visit today and a simple report on what was done.

“Can you give me your whole name and birthdate?” You asked softly, glancing down at the white boxed paper.

“February 14.” His accented voice answered, folding his old bandages in his own hand.

“..Marcelle Briar.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye shyly.

“Alright, I believe that is it..” you muttered, taking out some pain killers and handing them to him “You can take two every six hours to keep down the pain.. Is there anything else you wanted to speak about?”

Marcelle looked up from his hands, gently taking your in his,

“Yes, right here.” He placed your hand over his chest, right over his heart, it was erratically beating against his ribcage almost as if it were about to jump out of his tórax and run off.

“Every time I look at you. My heart.. em.. how do you say..? Fast.” He explained, pressing your hand into his chest even more.

His cheeks were flushed a red tint, small sweat suds forming over his scarred skin.

You laughed nervously, prying your hand away from his relaxed, soft muscles.

Your ears were beginning to feel warmer, how do you explain this to him without outright embarrassing him?

You started “Erm.. Well—“

“Lieutenant cottontail!! There you are.” Another deep voice cut you off as he stepped into the tent.

“..Salvador.”

It was another burly man of Marcelle’s size, big muscular and intimidating handsome..

But this one was a stark contrast to him, he seemed more extroverted and.. louder, you suppose.

His black hair fell over his face loosely, styled in a messy half-up-half-down type of way.

His gaze shifted to you, eyes widening just a little bit, giving you a curious look.

“hello there.. sorry for the intrusion, muñeca.” He waved at you, his shoulders relaxed.

You stayed quiet, before just nodding your head.

“You must be the new nurse, right?” He walked closer to you, you tried to ignore how his boots were tracking blood and mud into the sterile tent..

“C-correct.” He leaned down to your level for a moment, observing you intently for a moment, his dark eyes narrowed.

You were about to pop a blood vessel, you could hear the blood pumping through your ears frantically, did you do something wrong? Why was he looking at you like that?

“..You’re pretty cute.” He whispered to himself before he backed away completely, swiveling around to greet the blonde man on the cot.

“We have a new unit of rookies, cmon.” The new man(Salvador) motioned with his head for the other male to get moving.

“See you around, (Y/N).” The black haired one bid his goodbye with a nod of his head and a pat to your head.

The blonde one stared at you for a second, you swear you saw the corners of his lips twitch up slightly before muttering a farewell too.

…

Marcelle might have been struck with Cupid’s arrow. Unfortunately it seemed that he wasn’t the only one under the mischievous cherub’s control.

his “friend” had been shot too. Marcelle could tell, Salvador was laidback and a good personality, complete contrast to him but even with that arrogant exterior Salvador adored to display, Marcelle knew that something changed.

When he spoke to you the tips of his ears were slightly flushed, he toned down his prideful side too, truly a miracle.

as far as Marcelle knew, Salvador loathed physical touch. However he didn’t hesitate to brush against you. Male-Whore.

And what did the blonde man do this whole time? Seethe as he watched the interaction. He was pushing 34 years old and he was still too shy to speak to a girl. Pathetic.

He now had competition, he hoped that it was just a puppy crush and would lay over and be forgotten by Salvador and him.

Oh how wrong he was.

…

It had been a while since you begun to feel at home at base, and now you had.. friends, you suppose.

Those two soldiers were becoming close to your heart, both of them paying you almost daily visits, gifting you small trinkets they found and wild flowers from their outings.

Salvador liked giving you flowers, especially red ones for some reason, he was the more flirtatious one out of the pair, but you just laughed it off. not like he could have feelings for a puny person like you, could he? He was probably playing with you..

God, are you dense or do you think he doesn’t like you? Salvador has tried everything, he has flirted, shown that you are special to HIM, he has gotten rid of all the nuisances, he literally worships the ground you walk on and you still don’t get that he is hopelessly I love with you?!

Marcelle was sweet, you honestly didn’t expect it from him, he always had an annoyed look and seemed milliseconds away from tearing your head off your shoulders clean.

But he was.. basically a human sized teddy bear—at least towards you. He liked physical proximity(surprisingly), gently hugging your head closer to his chest, burying his nose into your hair, you name it.

Salvador never had any of it, shooting nasty looks at Marcelle and muttering jabs at him, They were both like two brothers fighting over a plushie.

Somehow they both would always end up hugging a part of your body after bickering for a while.

Lately there has been various soldier deaths, strangely enough they were men you knew, both in your good and not so good graces.

They were admitted into the infirmary for life threatening wounds and most of the time died due to blood loss or a punctured organ.

It was traumatic. Having to drag the body out and into a sealed bag to the corresponding family.

Your ears pricked at the sound of screams, you were used to hearing those cries for help. You learned throughout so many years that you were to mind your business, not to investigate and much less wander near the forest.

Bloodcurdling screams resounded from the woods, only the birds and bears present to hear the sound of death.

A blonde man grabbed onto the lower jaw of the bloodied man lying on the floor, thick fingers lodging onto the frenulum of his mouth.

The sound of cartilage tearing reached his ears, a sick laugh reverberating from his chest as blood streamed out the injured soldiers mouth.

“Fancy seeing you here.” A lax voice sounded from behind Marcelle.

Salvador dragged a body with him, creating a dark trail of guts and blood on the dirt flooring.

The man Marcelle was finishing with flailed and cried on the ground, his tongue sticking out from his mouth as there was no more jaw to hang on to.

He flailed for help to the black haired fellow, only for his hopes to be crushed when he started laughing at his misery.

“I know this guy. He groped (Y/N) did he not?” Salvador cracked a rare smile, walking up to the male on the floor and landing a powerful kick to his gut.

Blood gurgled out his mouth, eyes wide as he stared up at both of the devils with fear.

Marcelle scoffed, nodding his head as he placed his foot on his head, applying pressure on hid frontal lobe until it exploded.

Making a mess of blood and brains under his black boot, even after death Marcelle had decided he hadn’t had enough though.

Lifting his leg he stomped down on his head, over and over. And over. And over again.

The deceased man’s face was unrecognizable, being pulverized into the soil as only remnants of skin and meat suggested there was a head on his body once.

Marcelle ripped his name off his uniform, taking out his lighter and burning it.

Salvador threw his own body next to the headless corpse, nudging it with his foot lightly before spitting on the corpses.

“Let’s go. (Y/N) is waiting for us.” Marcelle mumbled, eyeing the bodies one last time before leaving.

You enjoyed your lunch with both the soldiers. But you couldn’t help but notice the slight red tint to Marcelle’s usually honey blonde hair. The red under Salvador’s nails scared you, but you just figured they must have hurt themselves.

You tried to ignore the insanity behind the pair’s eyes as they stared at you, they were looking at you as if they had placed their hearts on silver platters and were waiting for you to take them.

You just smiled, thinking it was just your mind playing tricks on you from exhaustion. Sadly that wasn’t the case. ♡

#yandere x reader #smilesyanderes #yandere #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oc #MarcellePosting #SalvadorPosting #yandere x darling #im too tired to double check my writing so enjoy!!#COD inspired ig

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d-z20 · 1 day ago

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Not Like Before (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Witch Reader

Summary: You and Agatha go on a date, and when you return home, the evening intensifies as you both get more turned on and you try a new experience.

- OR -

Agatha fucks you with the strap for the first time and its magical

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, smut, top Agatha, enchanted strap, somewhat innocent reader, tiny bit of praise

Words: 2.7k

A/N: Requested fic :) In my head the strap is enchanted in the way she can cum from it being stimulated but like her orgasm is normal, not like gp orgasm if that makes sense?

AO3 | Master List

The night is alive with a quiet hum of energy. The small, upscale cocktail lounge you’ve chosen for tonight’s date thrums with an undercurrent of power that only those attuned to it can feel. It’s a haven for witches—neutral ground where enchantments and glamour are as commonplace as the expertly mixed drinks. The air shimmers faintly with unspoken spells and whispered charms, weaving through the soft candlelight that flickers on the polished wooden tables.

Agatha sits across from you, her presence as commanding as ever. Tonight, she is a vision of sharp elegance in a tailored black suit with a plunging neckline. Her hair is swept back into a sleek style, exposing her jawline and the glint of earrings that catch the dim light with every movement. She exudes control, a master of both her appearance and the simmering magic that radiates from her in subtle waves.

You’ve dressed to match her energy, knowing full well that anything less would pale beside her. Your outfit—a fitted, dark ensemble with just the right amount of daring to complement her sharp sophistication—keeps her eyes lingering on you just a moment too long every time she looks. Those glances, and the way her lips curl into a smirk as her gaze sweeps over you, leave your cheeks warm and your pulse racing.

The two of you play this game all evening. A brush of her fingers against yours as she hands you a drink. The faint spark of magic you send in response—a subtle flicker of warmth at her wrist that makes her eyebrow arch in interest. She teases you with her words, her tone low and syrupy, while you meet her challenge with coy smiles and the occasional playful hex—minor spells to warm her glass or dim the candlelight whenever her smirk grows too smug.

“You’re being particularly bold tonight,” she murmurs, leaning forward with her chin resting on her hand. Her blue eyes bore into yours, her lips curving into that slow, deliberate smile that twists your stomach in the best way.

“And you’re enjoying it,” you shoot back, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass idly. A soft pulse of magic flickers from your touch, making the ice cubes inside melt slightly faster than they should.

Agatha tilts her head, her smirk deepening. “Perhaps,” she allows, her voice rich with amusement. Under the table, her hand brushes up your thigh, the faint static of her magic dancing across your skin. “But don’t think I haven’t noticed your little tricks.”

Her words send a thrill down your spine, though you mask it well. “Oh, those?” you say casually, tilting your head as if bored. “Just keeping you on your toes.”

Her laugh is low and dangerous—the kind of laugh that makes your breath hitch. “Careful, darling,” she murmurs, brushing her thumb over your knuckles. “Keep this up, and I might forget to be gentle.”

The flicker of heat in her voice makes your control slip for just a moment. The candle on your table flares slightly before settling, its light casting flickering shadows that seem to dance to their own rhythm. Agatha notices, of course. She notices everything. Her smirk grows as she leans back in her chair, swirling her wine glass lazily as though savouring her victory.

The tension between you builds all night—an invisible thread pulling tighter with every lingering glance, every casual brush of magic exchanged between you. The air feels electric, charged with unspoken desire and the potent power both of you wield so effortlessly.

When the server comes by to ask if you want dessert, Agatha doesn’t even glance at the menu. “We’ll take whatever’s at the top of the list to go,” she says smoothly, standing with a grace that’s almost otherworldly. She extends a hand toward you, her lips curling into a wicked smile. “Shall we?”

—

The walk home is a blur. The cool night air does little to temper the heat between you, and every step feels like an eternity. You feel the subtle hum of her magic brushing against yours—a silent challenge you can’t help but answer with a flicker of your own. Her hand slides to the small of your back as she guides you up the steps to the door, and the moment you step over the threshold, all pretence of restraint vanishes.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, Agatha’s lips are on yours—hungry, urgent, filled with the fire she’s been stoking all night. You barely have time to gasp before she pushes you back, your spine hitting the wall with a soft thud as her hands pin yours above your head. Her kiss is relentless, her teeth grazing your bottom lip as her nails dig lightly into your wrists. Your knees weaken under the sheer force of her need.

“You’ve been driving me absolutely mad, teasing me, pushing me..." she growls against your lips, her voice rough and breathless. “Did you think I’d let your little games go unanswered? You should know me better than that.”

Before you can respond, she sweeps you into her arms with effortless strength and carries you toward the bedroom. You let out a startled sound as she tosses you onto the bed with surprising roughness, her smirk wicked as she towers over you. Her magic swirls in the air, palpable and electric, making the hairs on your arms stand on end. The fire in her eyes sends a thrill racing through your body.

Agatha wastes no time. With a wave of her hand, your clothes begin to peel away, each piece tugged free with deliberate precision. The fabric slides off your skin as though it has a mind of its own, her magic coaxing and caressing every inch of you it touches. You shiver under the sensation, your breath hitching as her power leaves you bare before her. Her smirk deepens as her eyes rake over you, dark with desire and satisfaction.

“You look absolutely devine like this,” she murmurs, her voice thick with lust. Her hand grazes your cheek, but there’s nothing gentle about the way her magic wraps around you—tight, commanding, and impossible to resist. “Completely at my mercy.”

She climbs onto the bed with the grace of a predator, straddling you as her hands press firmly against your shoulders. Her lips crash down onto yours with a ferocity that leaves you breathless, her teeth scraping against your skin as her nails rake down your arms. The soft flicker of her magic tingles where her hands don’t reach, adding an intoxicating edge to every touch.

You arch beneath her, your own magic surging in response, flickering like fire across her back as your hands grip her waist. She lets out a low, guttural sound that sends heat straight to your core, her lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, then down to your neck. Her teeth nip at the sensitive skin there, and the faint spark of her magic sears against you, making you gasp and clutch her tighter.

“Getting bold again, are we?” She teases, her voice breathless but dripping with amusement as she presses her weight into you, pinning you firmly to the bed.

You barely manage a breathless laugh, your lips brushing against hers as you whisper, “Would you want it any other way?”

Her answering growl is all the warning you get before her lips claim yours again, and the world dissolves into a blur of heat, power, and the relentless pull of her touch. Every brush of Agatha’s lips against yours setting off sparks that race down your spine. Her hands roam freely now, trailing from your shoulders to your sides, exploring every curve and hollow with a possessive kind of hunger. Her lips find your neck again, and the sharp scrape of her teeth leaves you gasping, your fingers tangling in her hair to pull her closer.

“Such a tease,” she murmurs, her voice low and dripping with amusement. Her hands slide lower, her touch firm and deliberate, and the heat pooling in your core intensifies. You shiver as her fingertips trail over your thighs, brushing teasingly close to where you crave her most. When her hand finally cups you, the gasp that escapes your lips is enough to make her smirk against your skin.

Agatha doesn’t stop. Her fingers press just right, her magic thrumming faintly against you, adding an intoxicating edge to her touch. Your breaths come faster, your body arching into her as her lips return to yours in a kiss so heated it leaves you dizzy. She pulls back, hovering above you, her lips curled into a smug, satisfied smile as she brushes stray strands of hair from your face. Her own breathing is ragged; her normally pristine control frayed at the edges in a way that makes her look even more devastatingly beautiful.

You barely manage to form words between pants. "I... I want more tonight. I need more.”

Her eyes darken at your admission, a flicker of surprise mingling with the raw desire that’s already written across her face. She leans in closer, her lips ghosting over yours as she whispers, “Are you sure?” Her tone is soft, but the hunger beneath it is unmistakable. She’s been holding back, waiting until you were ready, but it’s clear how much she wants this.

Rather than answering with words, you pull her into another heated kiss, pouring every ounce of need and certainty into it. Her lips crush against yours, her hands sliding up your body as the kiss deepens, growing more fervent by the second. She groans into your mouth when your own hands begin to explore, trailing down her sides with deliberate curiosity. When your fingers brush between her legs and find a firm bulge beneath the fabric of her suit pants, you freeze.

Your wide-eyed gaze snaps to hers, startled by what you hadn’t expected. She pulls back slightly, her smirk widening as she takes in your reaction, her eyes glittering with amusement and pride. “Did you think I’d wait to put it on after the way you just kissed me?” She teases, her voice low and sultry.

“Oh,” you breathe, momentarily lost for words, “I love magic.”. Then curiosity takes over, your hand exploring the unfamiliar sensation, gently pressing and teasing. The way Agatha’s lips part, a soft moan escaping, sends a thrill through you. Her hips twitch under your touch, and it clicks—you realise she can feel everything.

Her moans grow sharper as your hand strokes the bulge through her pants, and her forehead falls to yours, her breath hot and uneven. “You’re playing a dangerous game, darling,” she groans, her voice trembling with restraint.

You smirk, feeling emboldened by the way she’s unravelling under your touch. “I really, really love magic,” you murmur, your tone dripping with mischief.

Her answering laugh is low and guttural, a sound that sends heat racing through your veins. “You’re going to be the death of me,” she growls, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, her magic sparking faintly against your skin as her control slips.

When she finally pulls away, you’re left breathless, your skin burning with anticipation as she leans back and stands. Her eyes never leave yours; the promise in them is enough to make your pulse race. With a deliberate flick of her wrist, she clicks her fingers, and in an instant, her body is engulfed in a swirling haze of purple smoke. It lingers for only a heartbeat before dissipating, leaving her standing before you completely bare—except for the deep violet strap now secured to her hips.

“Ready for more?” She asks, her voice low and velvet-smooth, a dangerous smirk playing on her lips as she steps toward you.

You nod, your breath catching as she climbs back onto the bed. Her hands glide over your thighs, parting them gently as she settles between your legs. The heat of her body against yours is electrifying, her magic humming faintly where her skin brushes yours.

Agatha’s hands find your hips, her grip firm yet tender as she lines herself up with practiced precision. Her gaze meets yours, her smirk softening into something darker, more intimate. “Tell me if it’s too much,” she murmurs, her voice a low purr.

Her fingers dig slightly into your hips, holding you steady as she takes her time, letting the anticipation build as her body moves closer to yours. Agatha’s gaze never wavers as she presses forward, her movements slow and deliberate, giving you all the time you need to adjust. The initial stretch draws a gasp from your lips, and her grip on your hips tightens, grounding you with her steady touch. “That’s it,” she murmurs, her voice low and soothing despite the obvious strain in it. “You’re doing so well.”

Her pace remains measured, her hips rocking in shallow, careful movements. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you feel the tension in her body as she fights to hold back, letting you catch your breath and find your rhythm.

But restraint has never been Agatha’s strong suit—not when it comes to you. It doesn’t take long before the careful control begins to slip. Your legs wrap around her waist, pulling her closer and urging her on with breathless gasps and moans that spur her to move faster, deeper, and harder. The moment she senses you’re ready for more, any pretence of caution vanishes.

“Fuck, doll, you’re perfect,” she growls, her voice rough and thick with desire. Her hips snap against yours with a growing urgency, and the world dissolves into a blur of heat and movement. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound mixing with the symphony of gasps, moans, and her ragged breaths in your ear.

Her name tumbles from your lips like a prayer, and Agatha responds with a low, guttural sound, burying her face in the curve of your neck as she drives you higher. Her teeth graze your skin, her nails pressing into your thighs, and every thrust sends sparks racing down your spine. You lose yourself in her—her strength, her heat, the raw passion she pours into every movement.

“God,” she groans, her voice heavy with awe and lust. “You feel… incredible.”

Her pace grows erratic, and she moves like a woman possessed, each thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. When your hands clutch at her shoulders, your nails dragging across her back, she lets out a sharp gasp, her hips stuttering for a brief moment before resuming with even more intensity.

You can feel her magic surging, wild and untamed, spilling over in waves that leave you breathless. It’s all-consuming, pulling you under like a riptide. When the climax crashes over you, it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced—a white-hot explosion of pleasure that leaves you shaking beneath her, her name a broken cry on your lips.

Agatha follows moments later, her hips slowing as her head falls to your shoulder, her breath hot and uneven against your skin. For a long moment, the two of you stay like that, tangled together, the room filled with nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing.

When she finally lifts her head, her lips curl into a satisfied smirk as she brushes a strand of hair from your damp forehead. “I told you teasing me was dangerous,” she murmurs, her voice soft but full of smug amusement.

You laugh weakly, your hands still clutching her waist as you try to catch your breath. “And I’d do it all over again.”

Her laugh is low and rich, and she leans down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, her movements now gentle and languid. “Careful, darling,” she purrs, her magic flickering faintly in her fingertips as they trace lazy patterns on your hip. “I’m far from done with you.”

With a sly smirk, she leans back, her fingers snapping once more. The faint glow of purple magic surrounds her, and in an instant, the strap is gone, replaced by an effortlessly regal floral robe that shimmers like liquid starlight. She stretches lazily, her eyes glinting with mischief as she looks down at you.

“Rest while you can,” she murmurs, her tone laced with promise. “We’ve got a long night ahead.”

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vi-tamine · 2 days ago

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Heyyyyy!!!

If you are up for it, I'd love to see you write a Silco x Reader Story🙏🏻

Reader was like an older Sibling to Powder, Vi, Mylo and Clagger, making sure the kids were always okay. So that day, when almost everyone died and Silco took in Powder/Jinx, Reader went with them to keep an eye on Jinx. They turn more into a Parental Figure over time for her. Reader and Silco hated each other at first but tried to remain civil for Jinx. Over time feelings developed and both are in denial. So basically Enemies to Lovers.

Also Reader takes care of like the Bar, since they have already worked there when Vander was still alive. [Either behind the counter as a Bartender or as like Security]

Idc if its Fluffy or Angsty or smutty or smth!

I just need more Silco x Reader🙏🏻😭

at home (silco x reader)

words: 1517

genre(s): fluff, angst (i think..)

warnings: none

n/a: im sooo happy!!! thank u so much for requesting me!! this is my first request and i'm kinda nervous about it! i hope you like it and enjoy it a little!! i did my best!! want to remember that english isn't my first language, so im sorry if there are spelling or grammar mistakes, but this also helps me to improve :]

You were twenty years old when it all happened. When Mylo and Claggor died and Vi ran away after all the tragedy trying to rescue Vander from Silco's hands. You were the oldest of the three sisters, always under your care, even though you allowed them some freedom for their “missions” you always kept an eye on your sisters, in case it was necessary to get them out of some trouble.

That day, you went to help your brothers get Vander back, making Powder promise not to move from the basement. When the whole mess happened, you were barely aware of whatever was going on. One of your arms had been trapped under the rubble and you heard Powder's distant cries for Vi to come back for her. As best you could, you pulled yourself together, pushed away the debris over your arm and made your way to find the youngest of your sisters, the one that sounded closest. The crying seemed to be weaker, and when you looked up Silco had his arms around her as she hugged him, right next to Vander's lifeless body. You approached cautiously, brow furrowed at the whole unfamiliar situation.

“Stay away from her” you addressed Silco with a firm voice and furrowed brows. He did so without complaint, looking at you, keeping his composure and probably waiting for a move on your part that never came. Powder turned to look at you, her blue eyes brimming with tears. She hugged your legs, and before you knew it, you were both leaving with Silco and his people.

Seven years later you decided to take Vander's place in “The Last Drop”. Silco “signed it over” to you while he took one of the rooms to be his office. You were a little grateful that he would let you carry on the legacy of the one he once considered his brother.

You poured one last drink before Jinx sat down on one of the stools and rolled your eyes as you watched her turn in on herself. “Get your feet off the stool if you're going to be sitting here” you scolded her as you cleaned one of the glasses and poured her the juice she always asked for. “Thank you~” she thanked taking a sip from the straw. “I've been working on one of those grenades I showed you, and even though it explodes poorly, it's getting more and more powerful!” she explained somewhat excitedly as she looked at you with a slight smile. During all these years your sister had grown more than you would have liked. Sometimes nostalgia hit you, and all you could think about was how much older she had gotten and how rebellious and uncontrollable she had become.

Mylo and Claggor's death and Vi's abandonment left some aftereffects on your sister. Jinx was the name she had decided to adopt after Vi called her that name before abandoning her to her fate without even knowing if you were alive. Together with Silco you had raised her, and although you always tried to take her on a healthy and untroubled path, she ended up paying more attention to Silco than to you.

During all these years your vision of Silco was changing, and all the resentment and anger you had towards him, had been loosening when you saw the love and effort he put in wanting to take care of your sister. Your attitude towards him became more passive, and his attitude towards you became sweeter and more protective. You both had your sister, Jinx, as your priority.

“Be careful with those gadgets or someday your finger will explode.” you joked with your sister as you leaned your elbows on the bar to look at her. “I do know how to build inventions, sis, not like you” she joked with you before getting a tap on her shoulder from you. You rolled your eyes letting out a light chuckle. “By the way, Silco wants to see you” he spoke as he rubbed his shoulder with a pout. You frowned and sighed. “You take care of the drinks for a while then” you stepped out from behind the bar, you watched out of the corner of your eye as Jinx hopped over the bar to tend to the customers and scolded her for it before walking up to Silco's office.

You felt your heart beating stronger and stronger as you got closer to Silco's office. Since a few days ago your vision of the man who had given (somehow) shelter to you and your sister, apart from starting to respect him, perhaps your feelings towards him had taken a different direction, a more romantic one. Every night you told yourself that it was wrong, if you thought about it, it was against your morals and principles to like Silco, so you tried to hold back that feeling as much as you could.

You knocked on the door, and after hearing a low “Come in”, you entered the room, allowing you to see Silco in his chair as usual and Sevika next to him. They both looked at you, and with a slight gesture, Silco had Sevika leave the room, closing the door behind her. You sat down in the chair in front of the table, sighing and making yourself comfortable as you noticed how her gaze was fixed on you.

“What is it this time, what has Jinx done to what-” you couldn't finish formulating the sentence Silco cut you off. “Your sister is out of jail” your back and your whole body started to bristle. “With the help of a Piltover enforcer.” You discovered that Vi had been arrested and sent to Stillwater. Seven years later she seemed to have gotten out. A confused feeling invaded your body. You were happy, your sister had been released. And at the same time you were filled with rage, she had abandoned you and your sister. Then came the feeling of guilt, you were the oldest, much older than them, and you had let your sister be arrested, you had not fought for her. You swallowed and immediately got up from the couch. “Don't let Jinx know. Not yet, at least.” you left the room without even looking or listening to what Silco would have to tell you.

. . . . . .

Later that night, having just closed the bar and with only the music to keep you company, you finished putting the last chairs back on the tables and mopping the floor. Before you even went to sleep you decided to pour yourself a shot of whiskey. You sat on the freshly cleaned bar and, with your mother's favorite song playing in the background, you thought about everything. Your parents, your sisters, brothers, Vander, Silco, everything. The alcohol scratched your throat as you thought about how you were going to confront Vi at some point, what you would say to her, how she would be, how she would react to seeing who you were with. Maybe she would understand you if she realized you were doing it all for Jinx. Maybe she would martyr you if she knew about your feelings for Silco.

“May I have some?” a voice from behind you shuddered. Turning slightly to grab a glass, you saw Silco planted behind you. You nodded wordlessly, pouring for him as well and watching as he took a long sip. He looked back at you. “Why the long face?” he asked. You laughed wryly. “As if you didn't know” you replied clicking your tongue. You didn't want to talk down to him, but your feelings at that moment were what they were. He seemed to understand, he didn't add a word.

He set the glass down on the bar and one of your hands rested on your shoulder, lightly trailing down your arm. “She's going to understand.” he simply said. You shook your head, also dropping the glass and looking sideways at him. “She's not going to understand. She can't. I don't blame her. I'm a horrible sister.” you sighed. You felt like your eyes were going to release tears at any moment. You noticed Silco's rough hand touch yours, embrace yours with his fingers and with his thumb caress the back of your hand. You let yourself be touched. “We should have left, Silco. We don't belong here. It's not our place. I should have taken Pow-” you couldn't finish your sentence Silco had crashed his lips to yours. You couldn't even react when he broke away. You looked at him still dumbfounded.

“If she doesn't understand, we're going to make her understand. But don't you ever, ever, ever say again that you don't belong here. You do. You belong by my side,” and when he finished speaking you couldn't help but kiss his lips back. Your heart had just exploded like a bomb, and Silco had detonated it. There were probably going to be repercussions, surely none of this was going to go well, but for the first time, when you were dancing in his arms, you felt at home again.

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capquinn · 2 days ago

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can we get a blurb about quinn telling his parents he’s gonna be a dad, pretty pretty please???? i feel like he’d be nervous to tell them but also bursting at the seams wanting them to know. it’s probably hard for him being so far away for most of the year, that he wants them to be involved as much as they can, but he’d also want to respect his partner’s wishes if she wanted to wait to tell people until she was further along in case something happened

The decision about when to tell Quinn’s family about the baby over Thanksgiving weekend had been made weeks ago, but actually doing it was proving to be a whole different story.

For Quinn, the excitement of telling them had been almost overwhelming at first, a buzz of energy thrumming beneath his skin every time he thought about the moment. He could picture their reactions so clearly: Ellen’s face lighting up with joy and then tears, Jim’s steady pride breaking into a wide grin. He’d played it over in his mind again and again, letting the thought carry him through the quiet moments of doubt.

But now, as the reality of actually saying the words settled in, the nerves crept in too. It wasn’t that he doubted their reaction — they would be thrilled, he knew that. They adored him, a love larger than life itself, their pride woven into every word they spoke about him. A love so steadfast it felt unshakable. And over the years, that same love had effortlessly extended to you, not just welcoming you into their family but embracing you as if you’d always been a part of it.

However, the weight of the moment, of what it symbolised, suddenly felt heavier. This wasn’t just a fleeting piece of good news to share. It was life-changing, not just for him and you, but for them as well. They were about to become grandparents, stepping into a new chapter of their lives, and he couldn’t shake the pressure of wanting the moment to be perfect.

The confidence he’d carried on the flight home for the weekend was slipping, giving way to a swirl of emotions he couldn’t quite name. He’d been eager, almost impatient, to share the news, to feel the weight of it lifted and replaced with their joy, their pride, their unwavering support. He wanted them to share in the excitement, to feel connected to this life-changing moment despite the physical miles that often separate them. He needed them to know that their place in this new chapter, as grandparents, was as important to him as the one he was stepping into.

But now, standing on the brink of saying it aloud, a sudden wave of nerves hit him, sharp and unexpected. The enormity of it all — the love, the hope, the vulnerability wrapped in the words — made his throat tighten.

It wasn’t just an announcement. It was a shift, one that would ripple out and reshape everything. Parenthood, after all, was still something the two of you were learning to grasp.

The first evening back home unfolded in the warm glow of Ellen’s kitchen, the scent of roast chicken and fresh-baked bread filling the air. The house alive with warmth — the crackle of the fireplace, the low hum of laughter, and the familiar cadence of Jim’s voice as he spun a tale about the neighbour’s runaway tractor. He gestured animatedly, earning chuckles and interjections from Ellen, who corrected him at every exaggerated turn. It’s a familiar, comforting scene — the kind of moment Quinn usually soaks in without a second thought.

But tonight, his mind is a thousand miles away.

You can feel the tension humming beneath his relaxed posture, the subtle way his fingers tighten around yours every few minutes, like he’s trying to ground himself. His gaze keeps darting to his parents — catching the glint of Ellen’s wedding band as she leans forward in her chair, the crinkle of Jim’s eyes as he laughs at his own joke.

He wants to tell them. You can see it in the way his lips press together, his chest rising and falling with a slow, deliberate breath as though he’s rehearsing the words in his head.

We’re having a baby.

It’s right there, sitting on the tip of his tongue, waiting for the perfect moment.

Quinn shifts in his seat, his free hand sliding up to rub the back of his neck as he leans forward slightly. You can feel the faint tremor in his grip as he laces his fingers tighter with yours, like he’s steadying himself for something big.

Jim’s voice carries on in the background, the rich cadence of his story weaving effortlessly with Ellen’s laughter, but Quinn’s focus isn’t there anymore. His gaze is fixed on the table, the firelight catching in his eyes as he takes a deep, deliberate breath.

You recognise the signs immediately. The way his shoulders draw back just slightly, the faint movement of his lips like he’s practicing the words in his head. It’s coming — you can feel it in the subtle shift of his energy, the way his knee bounces once under the table before he stills it with a hand.

He glances at you, and in the flicker of his gaze, you see everything — the love, the nerves, the overwhelming weight of what he wants to say.

Your expression softens, and you give his hand a gentle squeeze, a quiet I’m here. You’ve got this.

Quinn swallows, his throat working against the knot of emotion rising there.

“So, uh,” he starts, his voice low and hesitant, barely cutting through the warmth of the room.

Ellen turns toward him, her smile easy and expectant, and Jim sets his drink down, his brows lifting in quiet curiosity.

It’s right there. The words are sitting at the edge of his lips, just waiting to fall out. We’re having a baby.

But they don’t.

Quinn falters, his mouth opening slightly before he closes it again, his jaw tightening as he drops his gaze to his lap. His hand squeezes yours, and the quiet pressure feels like an apology.

Ellen’s eyes flit between the two of you, a flicker of concern crossing her face.

“What is it, sweetheart?” she asks gently, her voice laced with the kind of maternal intuition that always catches him off guard.

He looks up at her, his lips curving into a faint, practiced smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Nothing,” he says softly, shaking his head. “Just... it’s good to be home. That’s all.”

You watch as Ellen’s concern melts into warmth, her smile returning as she reaches over to squeeze his arm affectionately.

“Well, we’re glad you’re here, too,” she says simply, her love for him evident in every word.

Quinn nods, his gaze falling back to his lap, and you can see the frustration flickering just beneath the surface. He’s upset with himself — not because he doesn’t want to tell them, but because he does. Desperately. He just… can’t.

You lean into him slightly, your shoulder brushing his, and when he looks at you, you offer the smallest smile. He exhales slowly, his grip on your hand relaxing just a bit, and when Jim launches into another story, the tension eases from Quinn’s shoulders — if only for a moment.

The second opportunity comes the next morning, when the day feels impossibly slow and golden, like it’s giving Quinn every chance in the world to speak up. The two of you lie in bed longer than usual, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains as you talk quietly, voices still hushed with sleep.

“We can’t leave without telling them,” Quinn says suddenly, his voice quiet but resolute, like the realisation is finally settling in. His gaze is fixed somewhere on the ceiling, his brow furrowed in thought, the weight of his words pulling his shoulders just a little tighter. “I just… I want to do it right, you know?”

“I get it,” you reply, turning your head to look at him. His profile is soft in the morning light, his jaw flexing slightly as he wrestles with the thought. “You want it to feel special.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his lips twitching into a faint, almost sheepish smile. “Exactly. And every time I think about actually saying it, I freeze. Like, what if I screw it up and it’s not as perfect as I want it to be?”

You can’t help the way your heart squeezes a little at the vulnerability in his voice, the honesty of it catching you off guard in the best way. Sliding a little closer, you prop yourself up on one elbow, your hand brushing lightly against his arm. The movement pulls his attention, and for a moment, his eyes flicker to yours before settling back on the ceiling.

“Quinn,” you say softly, your voice laced with affection, “they’re going to love it. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be you.”

He doesn’t respond right away, the words settling over him like a quiet balm. His jaw flexes again as he chews on your reassurance, his hand absently dropping to your abdomen. It’s such a natural gesture, like he doesn’t even realise he’s done it, his palm curving gently over the barely-there swell.

The corners of his lips twitch, like he’s debating whether to believe you. Then he lets out a soft laugh, low and self-deprecating, his free hand coming up to rake through his already-messy hair.

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Because it is easy,” you insist, squeezing his arm lightly, your gaze steady on him. “It’s you, Quinn. They’re going to be over the moon no matter how or when you tell them.”

His eyes flick to yours then, something unspoken passing between you — a quiet thank you, maybe, or just an acknowledgment that he’s holding onto your words a little tighter than he lets on. His thumb brushes a slow, thoughtful circle against your skin, and you can feel the tension in his shoulders ease, if only just a little.

“Don’t worry, you’ll tell them today,” you murmur. There’s a quiet encouragement in your voice, a steady belief that seems to seep right into him. Your fingers trace lazy circles over the back of his hand where it rests on your belly.

Quinn nods, his lips twitching into a small, tentative smile. It’s not the full-blown confidence he probably wishes he had, but it’s something — a flicker of determination breaking through the haze of nerves.

“Yeah,” he says softly, the single word carrying more resolve than hesitation. “I will.”

He sounds ready. You believe him. So does he.

And so the morning unfolds beautifully. Ellen, with her usual warmth and efficiency, packs coffee and snacks into a little canvas bag, insisting with a bright smile that everyone take advantage of the clear weather to walk the trails. There’s a lightness to her tone, a sense of simple joy that seems to catch on everyone as they prepare to head out.

Out in the forest, the world feels peaceful, quiet but alive. The rustle of leaves underfoot mingles with the occasional chirp of a bird or the soft swish of wind through the trees. The trail is dappled with sunlight, patches of golden light breaking through the canopy above. Quinn walks beside you, his shoulder bumping yours every now and then as the two of you amble along.

He’s quiet at first, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, but there’s a softness to him that doesn’t feel like nervousness — it feels like he’s soaking it all in. The crisp air, the sound of his parents chatting a few paces ahead, the steady rhythm of your steps beside him.

“You good?” you ask softly, nudging him with your elbow. Your breath fogs slightly in the cool air, and he glances over at you, his lips quirking into a small smile.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low but steady. And for a while, it feels like he means it.

At the overlook at the end of the trail that feels perfect, too. The sunlight glints off the trees, the breeze is cool and gentle, and his parents are close, their laughter light as Ellen unpacks the thermos of coffee. You can feel the moment hanging there, just waiting for Quinn to take it.

He squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing slow circles over your knuckles. You glance up at him, catching the way his jaw tightens just slightly, his lips pressing together like he’s rehearsing the words in his head.

“Now’s a good time,” you say softly, tilting your head toward him. Your voice is quiet, meant just for him, but there’s an encouragement in it that you hope will nudge him past whatever’s holding him back.

Quinn nods, his shoulders straightening a little as he draws in a breath.

His gaze flicks over to his parents, who are standing a few feet away, cups of steaming coffee in their hands as they admire the view. They’re relaxed, happy. Completely unsuspecting.

For a moment, it feels like he’s going to do it. He takes a step forward, clearing his throat softly, and both Ellen and Jim glance over at him.

“What is it, Quinn?” Ellen asks, her voice warm, a smile playing on her lips.

You watch as Quinn’s hand flexes at his side, his fingers twitching like he’s trying to grab hold of the words before they slip away.

“I—” he starts, but then his gaze falters, dropping to the ground for a fraction of a second. He hesitates, just long enough for the nerves to creep in.

Jim’s brow lifts slightly, his smile curious. “Everything okay?”

Quinn freezes, his jaw working as if he’s wrestling with the weight of the moment. You see the exact second he decides against it — the subtle shift in his stance, the way his eyes dart back to the view like he’s searching for an escape.

“Yeah,” he says finally, his voice low but steady. “Yeah, everything’s good.”

There’s a beat of quiet, and then Ellen laughs lightly, her attention shifting back to her cup.

“Good,” she says, clearly not noticing the undercurrent of tension. “Come have some coffee before it gets cold.”

Jim watches Quinn for a second longer, his gaze thoughtful, but he doesn’t press. He just claps a hand on Quinn’s shoulder as he passes, squeezing lightly.

Quinn exhales slowly, his shoulders sagging just slightly as he turns back to you. His lips twitch into a faint, sheepish smile, and he shrugs like he’s trying to laugh it off. But you know him too well to buy it.

You don’t say anything, just lean into his side a little, the warmth of him grounding in a way words wouldn’t be.

“Just… not yet,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost like he’s saying it to himself more than to you.

You nod, giving his hand another squeeze, a quiet reassurance passing between you.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, your voice just as soft. “You’ll know when the time’s right.”

He breathes out slowly, his gaze flickering back to the view for a moment before settling on his parents again. And even though the moment passes, and the group begins to move again, their laughter breaking through the quiet hum of the forest, you can feel it. The way his hand tightens slightly around yours. The way his shoulders stay just a little too tense as you walk.

He’s still building up to it, you know that. But he’s getting closer.

Back at the house, the moment arises again, this time while everyone is lounging in the living room after lunch. Quinn sits beside you on the couch, one hand cradling his coffee mug, the other resting on your thigh. His parents are across from you, their chairs pulled close to the fire, and the warmth of the room feels almost tangible, a gentle weight of familiarity and love.

He’s relaxed now, leaning back into the cushions, his gaze sweeping over the room like he’s soaking it all in. His hand tightens slightly on your leg, and you glance at him, catching the way his eyes flicker with something you recognise — nerves, anticipation, resolve.

Ellen catches his eye and smiles, tilting her head slightly. “What’s on your mind, Quinn? You’ve been out of sorts today.”

Your heart skips, and you sit up just slightly, willing him forward with the quiet encouragement in your expression.

This is it. He’s going to say it. You can feel it.

He clears his throat, straightening a little. “Just... uh,” he starts, his voice steady but hesitant. He glances at you, then back at his mom, and his lips twitch into a small, uncertain smile. “Just thinking how I’m gonna miss this when we leave,” he finishes, his tone light but not entirely convincing.

Your shoulders relax, a mix of understanding and disappointment flooding you as you press your knee gently against his. Quinn glances at you, his jaw tightening as he picks up on your unspoken it’s okay. Next time.

Ellen smiles warmly, tilting her head in that soft, motherly way. “It’s not long until Christmas,” she reminds him, though her voice carries a faint wistfulness, like she’s reminding herself too.

Quinn nods. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Not long.”

The following morning unfolds in the quiet, unhurried way that comes after a weekend of family time, everyone savouring these last hours together. The kitchen is warm and familiar, filled with the smell of coffee and the soft sounds of Ellen moving around, flipping pancakes on the griddle. Jim leans against the counter by the sink, drying dishes, while you’re perched on a stool at the island, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. Quinn stands a little apart, leaned back against the counter with a piece of toast in hand, his damp hair sticking up in every direction, evidence of a quick shower.

The conversation drifts easily — something about Jim’s plans for the yard that afternoon, Ellen’s pancake technique, a joke about Luke’s questionable cooking skills. But Quinn is quiet, and not in the usual, thoughtful way. His eyes flick between his parents, to you, and back again, a pattern he’s been repeating all weekend. You know he’s been carrying the weight of the news, the excitement and nerves tangling together, keeping him from saying it despite countless opportunities.

And then, just like that, it happens.

“We have something to tell you,” he says, his voice steady but quiet enough that it cuts through the easy flow of conversation.

The kitchen stills, all eyes turning toward him. Ellen pauses mid-flip, the spatula poised over the griddle, while Jim straightens from his spot near the sink, his brow furrowing slightly.

“What is it?” Ellen asks, her voice soft but expectant, her gaze darting between you both.

Quinn shifts slightly, his toast forgotten on the counter behind him. His hand brushes over the back of his neck, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s going to back out again, if the nerves will win one last time.

But then he glances at you, his expression searching, and you nod gently, giving him the encouragement he’s been looking for.

“We’re having a baby,” he says, the words tumbling out in a rush but steady, sure. His voice catches just slightly at the end, but his eyes stay locked on his parents, watching as the meaning sinks in.

For a moment, the room is silent. Ellen stares at him, her eyes wide and unblinking, her hand coming up to her mouth. Jim’s towel stills mid-fold in his hands, his gaze flicking to you as if for confirmation. And then Ellen gasps — a sound so full of joy and disbelief it feels like it fills the entire room.

“Oh my God,” Ellen whispers, her voice trembling as her hand covers her mouth. Her eyes dart between Quinn and you, wide and shimmering with emotion. “A baby? You’re having a baby?” She looks at you then, as if she needs your confirmation to believe it’s true.

Quinn nods, and the soft, tentative smile that had been tugging at his lips finally breaks free. It spreads wide, unstoppable, lighting up his entire face.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low and steady but filled with something raw and achingly real. “We’re having a baby.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, the world feels suspended, as if the house itself is holding its breath. Then Ellen moves, her emotions bursting forth as she crosses the kitchen in a blur, her arms outstretched. She pulls Quinn into a fierce hug, her laugh bubbling up through a flood of tears.

“Oh, Quinn,” she says, her voice breaking with joy. “A baby. My baby’s having a baby.” Her hands cradle his face for a moment before she hugs him again, tighter this time, as if she can pour every ounce of love she feels into him.

He laughs softly, wrapping his arms around her as his chin rests against the top of her head. “Thanks, Mom,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

When Ellen pulls back, her focus shifts immediately to you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, rounding the island with tears streaming down her face. “A baby. Oh, I’m so happy for you.” She pulls you into a tight hug, her warmth and joy washing over you in waves. “You’re going to be incredible parents. Both of you.”

Jim moves forward more slowly, his hand landing firmly on Quinn’s shoulder as a wide smile spreads across his face.

“This is incredible news, son,” he says, his voice steady but with an unmistakable quiver of emotion. “Congratulations. To both of you.”

Quinn exhales then, properly exhales, like the weight of all his nerves and hesitations has finally lifted.

For the rest of the morning, the kitchen hums with joy. Ellen flits between the stove and you, her emotions spilling over every time she catches Quinn’s eye. She can’t seem to stop smiling, crying, or imagining the tiny new addition to the family.

“How have you been feeling?” she asks, her eyes searching yours with a mother’s concern. “If you need anything, you’ll let me know, right?”

Her hand briefly brushes over your arm, the gesture warm and reassuring, and you nod, assuring her that you’ve been well, that Quinn has been attentive, that everything is as it should be. It’s impossible not to smile at the way her joy bubbles over, filling every corner of the kitchen like sunlight.

Quinn, for his part, has shed every trace of hesitation. He talks easily now, the nerves replaced by an earnest kind of excitement. He shares the small details — the due date, how you found out, how ready the two of you feel — and every word seems to deepen the pride in Jim’s expression. He stands quietly nearby, his presence grounding and constant, his smile unwavering.

When it’s finally time to leave, the hugs linger. Ellen pulls Quinn close, whispering something through her tears before letting him go to hold you just as tightly. Jim’s hand finds Quinn’s shoulder again, squeezing it once in a way that says everything without words. There’s an unspoken promise in their goodbyes, a warmth that stays even as the front door closes behind you.

Quinn doesn’t say much as he helps you into the car, his hand brushing over your back as he opens the door. But as he settles into the driver’s seat, he glances back at the house one last time, his expression soft, a little dazed. When he turns to you, his smile is quiet, content, the kind that makes your heart ache in the best way.

As you drive away, the crisp Michigan air shifting through the windows, his hand finds yours. His thumb brushes over your knuckles in that familiar, absent minded way, and you realise that for the first time all weekend, there’s nothing holding him back. The weight is gone, replaced by something steadier — joy, contentment, and the simple knowledge that everything is exactly as it should be.

#just a nervous ball of energy!!!!!#dad!quinn #capquinn's writing #capquinn’s requests #quinn hughes x reader

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vamptizm · 17 hours ago

Text

ii. MISSION JEALOUSY — p. bueckers

pairing: paige bueckers x clover amar (oc)

synopsis : in which paige bueckers and clover amar, two uconn wbb stars, have an ongoing mission of making each other jealous and outdoing the other.

warnings : smut, fingering (oc receiving), brief degrading, exhibitionism if you squint, they’re both assholes, no aftercare. please do not read if this makes you uncomfortable!

word count : 3.5k

note : this is my first time writing this stuff and omfg was it HARD, i cringed at myself like 10 times and this might be bad but everyone starts somewhere ig lol

series masterlist

The team weight room was alive with the rhythmic clanking of weights and low murmurs of conversation, but Paige only had ears for Clover. The two had been switching off sets on the bench press, each girl pushing themselves harder than necessary—not to outdo their personal records, but each other. Ice, nearby and unbothered, worked through her squats, seemingly oblivious to the escalating competition between the two.

Clover added another set of plates to the bar and smirked as she lay back, her tattoos flexing with every adjustment of her arms. Paige leaned against the rack, her arms crossed, watching with an unimpressed expression.

"Feeling bold after last night, huh?" Paige's tone was casual, but the edge was unmistakable.

Clover gripped the bar above her, sparing Paige a glance. "Nah, I couldn't care less." she quipped, her voice light as she lifted the bar. "Why? Did I make your little friend cry?"

Paige's jaw tightened with a small scoff, but she kept her composure. "You really thought you ate, huh?" She stepped closer as Clover re-racked the bar with ease. "Maybe next time, try not to scare people off before dessert."

Clover sat up, wiping her hands on her shorts. "Scare her off? Oh, baby. She was hanging by a thread before I said anything." She stood, gesturing for Paige to take her spot. "Maybe don't bring your charity cases to team dinners next time."

Paige slid under the bar, refusing to let Clover see how much that comment—and pet-name—got under her skin. She grabbed the bar with purpose, her fingers tightening around it as she muttered under her breath, "You're insufferable, you know that?"

Clover, now spotting Paige, leaned forward slightly, her grin widening. "Yeah, and you fucking love it."

Paige bit the inside of her cheek, annoyed that she couldn't come up with a retort fast enough. Instead, she pressed through her reps, feeling Clover's eyes on her the whole time. By the time she re-racked the bar, she was already regretting agreeing to partner with Clover.

When Clover took her turn again, she added more weight to the bar, clearly trying to prove a point. Paige didn't bother hiding her scoff. "Sure you don't wanna just tape a 'look at me' sign to your back while you're at it?"

"Jealousy doesn't look good on you, Bueckers," Clover shot back, her voice steady as she lowered the bar with perfect form.

Paige crossed her arms, leaning slightly closer. "You're not that special, Ma."

Clover's laugh echoed through the room as she racked the bar with ease. "Sure, keep telling yourself that. I'm not the one who brought a backup date to dinner."

Paige felt her temper flare, the heat rising up her neck. "You think everything's a game, don't you?" she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as Jia moved to another station.

Clover tilted her head, her expression smug. "Maybe. But you love to play, don't you?"

Paige didn't respond, instead picking up a pair of dumbbells and turning her attention to another exercise. But the tension between them lingered, thicker than the humid air in the weight room.

The weight room grew quieter as the rest of the team filed out, leaving only the steady hum of the overhead lights and the sound of weights being racked. Clover and Paige remained, neither willing to be the first to leave.

Paige pretended to focus on her dumbbells, but her attention kept flickering to Clover, who was at the mirror adjusting the resistance on a cable machine. The gym's fluorescent light caught the sheen of sweat on Clover's skin, highlighting the tattoos curling around her arms and peeking out from the neckline of her tank top.

Clover glanced at Paige's reflection in the mirror, catching her staring. She didn't say anything, but the smirk that tugged at her lips made Paige's stomach twist in equal parts annoyance and something else she refused to name.

"Enjoying the view, Bueckers?" Clover's voice broke the silence, casual and teasing.

Paige huffed, looking away as she set her dumbbells back on the rack. "You wish."

Clover turned, leaning against the cable machine, her arms crossed. "You're still mad about dinner, aren't you? I thought we had fun."

"Fun for you maybe," Paige shot back, stepping closer to grab her water bottle. "I don't make a habit of embarrassing people for sport."

Clover's grin widened. "Oh, come on. Amelia was—what's the word?—forgettable."

Paige glared, taking a long drink to buy herself time. She hated how Clover always knew exactly which buttons to push. But worse than that was how Clover's confidence—the way she carried herself, so effortlessly bold—made it hard to focus on anything else.

"You really can't help yourself, can you?" Paige asked, her voice quieter this time.

Clover tilted her head, her expression softening just enough to catch Paige off guard. "Why would I?"

Paige didn't answer, but the air between them felt charged, almost suffocating. She could feel Clover watching her, and it made her want to walk out—or close the distance between them.

Clover took a step closer, her gaze steady, curious. "What is it about me that gets under your skin so much, huh? Don't act like it's just my big mouth."

Paige's breath caught, her pulse quickening as Clover's words hung in the air. She opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss.

"Nothing to say?" Clover teased, leaning in slightly, her voice dropping. "That's a first."

Paige clenched her fists at her sides, every nerve on edge. "You don't know when to stop, do you?"

"Not when it comes to you," Clover replied, her tone softer now, less playful but no less intense.

For a moment, the weight room felt impossibly small, the space between them shrinking by the second. Paige could feel the tension in her chest, the unspoken words and emotions she wasn't ready to name.

Paige didn't step back. Her smirk turned sharper, her eyes searching Clover's face for any sign of hesitation—but she didn't find any. Instead, Clover stood firm, her confidence unwavering even as the air between them grew impossibly thick.

"You're looking at me like you wanna fuck me, Bueckers," Clover remarked, her voice steady and cocky grin unfaltering, even if her heart was pounding.

"Good," Paige replied, voice low. "Maybe that's exactly what I wanna do."

Before Clover could reply, Paige's hand moved—lightly brushing her hip first, then lingering at her waist, her grip firm but not overbearing. Her touch sent a jolt through Clover, but she didn't pull away. Paige stepped even closer, their bodies nearly touching, her breath warm against Clover's cheek.

"You're bold today," Clover murmured, her voice quieter now but still laced with challenge.

Paige chuckled softly, the sound deep and confident. "Bold, or just tired of you running your mouth?"

The weight room suddenly felt a hundred degrees hotter. Paige's free hand came up, her fingers gently grazing along the line of Clover's jaw, tilting her head up slightly. The smirk on Clover's lips wavered for a second—not out of nerves, but because Paige's sudden boldness had thrown her off her game for the first time.

"Speechless for once?" Paige teased, her thumb brushing the corner of Clover's mouth.

Clover regained her footing quickly, her cocky grin returning as her hands came to rest against Paige's chest. "Not speechless. Just wondering if you're finally gonna back up all that talk."

Paige's response was immediate. She closed the small gap between them, her lips brushing against Clover's as she pinned her against the cold wall, teasing at first but quickly growing firmer, more insistent. Clover matched her energy without hesitation, her fingers curling into the fabric of Paige's shirt as she pressed closer.

The kiss was nothing short of electric—heated, competitive, and every bit as charged as their arguments. Paige's larger hand slipped from Clover's jaw to her ass, pulling her closer, while Clover tilted her head to deepen the kiss, not willing to let Paige take the lead entirely.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily. Clover was the first to speak, her voice soft but edged with humor. "So... does this mean you're done being mad about dinner?"

Paige laughed under her breath, her hand still lingering on Clover's waist. "Not even close." She stepped back slightly, her cocky smile returning as she grabbed her towel. "But that's a conversation for another time, Ma."

And instantly, the blonde's lips crashed back against Clover's, her unoccupied hand snaking back up to the girl's face before finding a light grip around her throat. That was enough to ignite the tamed fire inside of Clover, their kiss growing rougher, teeth clashing and tongues meeting— Paige licking into her mouth like she was seeking water in the Sahara desert. A small whimper escaped Clover into Paige's mouth. One that had the blonde cockily grinning against her lips as her slim fingers lightly squeezed the girl's throat.

"Already got you whimpering for me, Baby?" The blonde's grin was taunting, nothing short of confident in herself like she always was.

Clover, however, wasn't as amused as Paige. Too worked up, too hot to come up with her usual and well known retorts. "Just shut the fuck up." She rolled her eyes, barely able to express her annoyance, that could more so be described as frustration.

Paige didn't make an effort to reply, her hand snaking to the back of Clover's neck, pulling the girl into another rough and messy kiss. Her lips slowly began to trail down, peppering wet kisses along Clover's jaw until she reached her neck.

Clover couldn't help but fist the blonde's shirt, gripping it tightly in hopes of grounding herself. Her head tilts backwards, upper teeth biting down on the bottom of her lips to suppress the whimpers that so desperately wanted to be let out. Paige started out with placing soft kisses down Clover's neck, halting at the crook of her neck. Her grip around the girl's waist tightened, tongue darting out to lick along the inked area, down to the collar bone.

The pooling wetness and the growing heat between Clover's legs was hard to deny, even harder to hide. She almost scolded herself for the way her thighs pressed together—it only gave her away and of course Paige didn't miss that. A smirk tugged on the corners of the blonde's lips, darkness clouding her bright eyes.

"You think you're slick, huh? Spreading them for others all fucking week and now you wanna close those legs?" Her tone was mocking, almost degrading and for some reason it only turned Clover on even more.

She couldn't keep her mouth shut, though. When could she ever? Clover Amar was a loud mouth through and through. "Maybe if you weren't all talk I would've spread them for you instead."

Paige had to hold herself back from rolling her eyes, only a small, amused scoff escaping her. "Oh, I'm so sorry I made you wait, princess. Let me make it up to you, yeah?"

And just like that Paige went back to kissing and nibbling on her collar bones, mouth moving further south with each second before reaching her cleavage. Her hands slid up slowly, fingers playing with the hem of the girl's sports bra. "Can I?" Her gaze was back on Clover's face, blue eyes locking with hers and her tone unusually and bizarrely soft and gentle. As if getting permission meant a great deal to her. Clover could only nod her head, too dazed to trust her own voice.

That wasn't enough for Paige, though. She lifted her head up, standing straight as she shook her her head. "You got words, baby. Use 'em."

Clover had to bite her tongue to not curse the blonde out at that very moment. Even in a moment like this, Paige still needed to tease her about it. Typical. Taking a deep breath, she finally complied. "Yes. You can."

A smug smirk made it's way back onto Paige's lips, triumph painted all over her features. It was clear that she enjoyed this more than Clover herself. "There you go, good job."

And oh, how Clover hated the way those words made her stomach do flips.

Paige's fingers finally hooked into the material of the black sports bra, taking her sweet time in pulling it up until Clover's breast sprang free. She stilled for a moment, breath hitching in her throat as she took the sight in front of her in, mouth already watering. If it had been anyone other than the girl in front of her, she'd make sure to shower them in praise and compliments, but she couldn't do that yet. Clover's full tattoo was now in sight— starting from the valley of her breast and ending only a couple of inches above her navel.

The blonde took a subtly deep breath before her hands continued their abandoned actions. "Arms up," she dryly instructed, tugging the clothing over Clover's head and throwing it to the floor after she complied once again. She had to refrain herself from commenting on how well Clover could listen for once.

Paige took her sweet time admiring the girl's exposed chest, hands instinctively finding their way back to her waist, rubbing and caressing the soft skin up and down. Clover was starting to get impatient, her hand finding one of Paige's, guiding it up and placing it over her breast.

The smug smirk on Paige's face only intensified, exuding her all too known and obnoxious confidence. "Eager, aren't we?"

Clover didn't say a word, she didn't have to because as soon as the blonde spoke those words, her mouth was already back on Clover, lips latching onto one nipple while her hands played with the other one. Fondling, pinching her nipples, suckling and biting on them until she got a satisfying squeal out of the girl.

As much as Clover hated this, she absolutely loved it. In some way she was being worshiped AND pleased right? Technically, she was the winner.

Paige continued to suckle and place open mouthed kisses all over her tits, slowly trailing down along the inked skin, licking and pecking.

It wasn't enough for Clover, though. Not nearly enough to coming anywhere close to stilling her hunger for the annoying blonde. But luckily for her, she didn't have to do or say anything. Paige was already on it, hand sliding to the waistband of the girl's shorts while she straightened up. That's when Clover felt her body ignite with fire, the mere thought of being touched in such a public space where anyone could walk in at any given time—despite it being so late—excited her more than she'd like to admit.

"Can you stop teasing?" She asked in an unintentionally low tone, her question coming off as more of a demand or request.

"I don't know, can you behave for once?" Paige countered, that stupid smirk never leaving her face and if Clover wasn't so turned on in that moment, she'd want to smack it off of her.

She hesitated before replying, voice barely above a whisper and a small pout on her lips. "Yes."

That one word seemed to be enough for Paige. Her hand came back up, two digits hovering over Clover's lips. "Suck."

'Is she serious?' Clover thought to herself. She debated it, fighting her pride and ego all for the sake of pleasure before ultimately complying and parting her lips, slowly wrapping them around Paige's fingers.

"Good girl." The blonde hummed as she watched and Clover wanted to roll her eyes. Her tongue swirled around the digits, sucking on and wetting them all while maintaining eye contact until Paige pulled them out again, a string of saliva connecting them. This was purely for the blonde's own pleasure.

Her hands were back on Clover's hips, but this time she didn't seem to have the patience to tease her. Paige's hand slipped right between the material of her waistband and panties.

Clover let out a huffed breath of relief at the touch of Paige's fingers running over her slick folds. The girl was completely soaked by now—embarrassingly so—something that emitted a raised brow from the blonde. "What's got you all soaked, Ma?"

"Shut the fuck up." is all that Clover could muster to say, her words coming out breathless. Her body was on fire and the last thing she wanted, was to be teased again.

Paige could only chuckle, something that would've aggravated the girl if she wasn't so worked up and desperate. She began to slowly circle Clover's clit, biting back that smug smirk as she studied her expression. Clover made no efforts of hiding her face, nor how good she felt, multiple sighs escaping her lips and her eyes fluttering shut. Her leg lifted to semi-hook around Paige's hip for easier access.

"More, please." She breathed. Clover knew that if there was one way to get what she wanted, it was by playing her cards right. By asking nicely.

And it seemed to work when Paige sped her movements up, rubbing tight circles as her mouth latched back onto the girl's chest. It was as if she couldn't get enough of her.

Paige's movements slowed, two digits circling the girl's entrance for what felt like an eternity before slipping in all at once.

A soft gasp left Clover's lips at the delicious stretch, her head tipped backwards as Paige continued the abuse on her chest. The blonde's fingers were pumping in and out of Clover's sopping cunt, and the sound of wet squelching would've flustered her if she'd cared enough.

"Oh- Fuck, Paige." Clover's hands came up to the girl's shoulders, steadying herself. Soft whimpers and the sound of kisses all across Clover's chest was all that could be heard through the weight room.

"Good, huh?" Her voice was low and sultry, eyes looking up at Clover's already fucked out face, who could only nod her head.

The familiar knot below her stomach started to tighten, nails digging into Paige's skin as she continued her abuse on her cunt, fingers curling deep, hitting that gummy spot just perfectly.

Clover feels like she's floating and suffocating all at once, her muscles and senses trembling with pleasure and she can feel her high approaching. This wasn't what she had planned—being at the mercy of Paige Bueckers—but there wasn't anywhere she'd rather have been in that moment.

"You close, baby?" Paige mumbled against her neck that she was now attacking with kisses, almost as if she could sense it. "Clenching on my fingers like a slut. You're that desperate, Mama?"

Once again, Clover could only nod her head, whimpering and whining were the only form of noise she could muster up.

Paige smirked against the crook of her neck before pulling back to get a good look of Clover. Her unoccupied hand grabbed the girl's chin, tilting her head back forwards. "Look at me or I'll stop." She near to demanded as her movements quickened.

Clover barely had any time to register what was happening, her eyes fluttering open only to be met by Paige's hungry eyes. The intimacy of it should've turned her on even more, should've brought her closer and while it did just that, it also scared her. Looking into Paige's eyes was a form of intimacy and vulnerability that Clover had never expected to experience with her, a language so foreign, one she’d never bothered to learn. Her heart was pounding in her chest, stomach fluttering and she didn't know whether it was due to Paige bringing her closer to her release, or if it was the girl's baby blue eyes staring deeply into her soul, almost as if wanting to find a home within.

Those thoughts were quickly disrupted by the sudden feeling of Clover's climax washing over her, everything except the feeling of her all consuming orgasm, vanishing into thin air.

Just as quickly as it happened, it seemed to end when Paige's hand slipped out again, barely giving Clover the time to register anything. All she could do was watch how the blonde casually licked her fingers clean. "Tastes good." She spoke, but it sounded like she was more so speaking to herself.

Paige turned and a towel along with Clover's sports bra were already being handed to her. "To clean up with." She said, as if it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world.

Before Clover could register anything, the blonde was already making her way towards the door. "See you tomorrow." She called over her shoulder, barely looking back as she left the weight room.

Clover could only stand there in shock. Did that really just happen? Did she really leave just like that? It's not as if she expected any aftercare or something as silly as a kiss, but standing topless and still catching her breath, Clover couldn't help but feel ashamed. Feel as if she had just been used and discarded so easily. It wasn't something she was used to. Heck, even she had the decency to help the girls she hooked up with get cleaned up and dressed before ditching them.

She scoffed humourlessly before putting her bra back on, tightly gripping her towel and walking out of the weight room herself in annoyance, and which she hated to admit, tears of frustration stinging her eyes.

#⇢ ˗ˏˋ vamptizm writes ࿐ྂ #mission jealousy #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies #wnba #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut

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my-religion-greek-myth · 21 hours ago

Text

Forever beyond

This one-shot is written purely for the last part of the story (only 740 words), but the story itself got a little bigger, so it became nearly 16k words.. 🫠 Twisted ver. of maiden, mother, crone

Fem Reader X Agatha X Rio, mainly fem Reader X Agatha

Warning: Depictions of birth (which I've no idea if I did right), blood and character death that may be disturbing to some readers

The moon hung heavy in the inky sky, its silver light slicing through the thick trees. Agatha griped your hand tightly, her blue eyes darting back and forth as the two of you ran through the underbrush. Each step sent tremors through your body, your other hand clutching your heavily pregnant belly.

“Agatha,” you panted, your voice trembling with exhaustion. “I—I can’t… we need to stop.”

“We can’t stop!” Agatha yelled, though her tone was tinged with worry. Her grip on your hand tightened, her own breath ragged. “We’re almost there. Just a little further, love.”

You whimpered, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you stumble. Agatha caught you, steadying you before pulling you along again. Every muscle in your body screamed in protest, and your swollen belly felt impossibly heavy.

Ahead of you, the shadows shifted, alive with something unnatural. Agatha’s jaw clenched, her glowing hands sparking with magic as she glanced behind you. “Don’t look back,” she whispered harshly. “Keep moving.”

But the pain became unbearable. You cried out, doubling over and clutching your stomach. Agatha froze, her face twisting with fear as she turned back to you. “Love, you have to—”

“I can’t!” you sobbed, your knees buckling. “The baby… something’s wrong. It’s too much.”

Before Agatha could answer, a figure emerged from the shadows ahead. Clad in black, with raven hair gleaming under the moonlight, she stepped into the clearing. Her dark eyes shimmered with an unsettling calm, though her face carried the weight of sorrow.

“Rio,” Agatha snarled, her voice thick with rage and desperation.

Rio—your Rio, your lover, and Death—stood motionless. Her presence was an unbearable weight, the air chilling around her. “It’s time,” she said softly, her voice hollow. “You know I can’t fight this.”

“Like hell you can’t!” Agatha hissed, stepping protectively in front of you as you trembled and whimpered in pain on the ground. “You’re not taking them. You’re not taking either of them!”

Rio’s gaze flickered between you and Agatha, and for a moment, her mask slipped. Her voice cracked as she spoke. “Agatha… I don’t want this. Do you think I want this?”

“Then stay back!” Agatha snapped, her voice venomous as her magic surged. A violet shockwave rippled through the clearing, forcing Rio a step back. “You don’t get to touch her!”

Rio raised her hands, her voice trembling with uncharacteristic vulnerability. “Agatha, please. I just want to—”

“No!” Agatha cut her off, her eyes blazing with tears and fury. “You think I’ll let you take her? Take our child? Over my dead body.”

Rio’s dark eyes softened, and her voice faltered. “Agatha,” she whispered. “I don’t want to take her. You know that.”

“Then leave!” Agatha’s magic flared again, cracking through the clearing like thunder. The shadows around Rio wavered, but she didn’t retreat fully. “If you come any closer, I’ll destroy you. I swear I will.”

Rio’s shoulders tense, her face a mask of anguish. “Agatha, I can’t just walk away. I didn’t choose this. It’s fate. The Fate… it’s stronger than I am.”

“Then fight it!” Agatha screamed, tears streaming down her face. “If you ever loved her—if you ever loved me—you’ll stay away.”

Rio’s jaw tightened, her hands curling into fists as her shadowy form flickers. “You think I haven’t tried? You think I don’t want to break this? I have loved you both more than you’ll ever know, but I can’t defy Fate.”

“You can,” Agatha growled, her voice raw and ragged. “You’re just too much of a coward to try.”

You cry out again, clutching at your belly as a fresh wave of pain tears through you. Agatha immediately dropped to her knees, her hands trembling as they cradled your face. “Stay with me, love,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against yours. “I’ll fix this. I’ll fix everything.”

Your voice was barely a whisper, trembling with fear and pain. “Agatha… I don’t want to go.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” she promised fiercely, her voice breaking. Her hands glowed brighter as she channelled her magic, pouring every ounce of her strength into you.

Rio stepped forward again, her dark form wavering as she kneeled near your side. Agatha’s head snapped up, her hand shooting out as another wave of magic struck Rio square in the chest, sending her backward.

“I said stay away!” Agatha roared, her voice thick with rage. “You don’t get to touch her!”

Rio rose slowly, her shadowy form flickering. “Agatha, I can’t do anything,” she said, her voice raw. “If I don’t guide her… if I don’t do this, it could cost both of them.”

“You’re lying!” Agatha screamed, her magic lashing out again, though Rio steadied herself against the impact. “You’re Death! All you do is take! You don’t help anyone!”

Rio flinched but didn’t argue. Instead, she stepped back into the edge of the shadows, her voice soft but firm. “Do what you can, Agatha. I’ll give you time. But I can’t hold this off forever.”

Agatha didn’t waste another second. Her magic surged, brighter and more desperate than ever, as she pressed her glowing hands to your belly. Tears streaked her face as she whispered frantic promises, her voice cracking with emotion.

“You’re staying with me,” she murmurs, her forehead pressed against yours. “Both of you. You’re not leaving me. I won’t let her have you.”

The forest hummed with power, Agatha’s magic blazing like fire as she fought against the inevitable.

And though Death lingered, watching from the shadows, Agatha refused to give up. She would fight until the last spark of her magic burned out—for you, for your child, for the life the three of you had built together.

No matter the cost.

Agatha’s hands trembled as the faint purple glow pulsed from her palms, weaving fragile tendrils of magic around your swollen belly. Each flicker of light was a plea, a desperate attempt to hold onto both you and the unborn child she had promised to protect. Sweat beaded on Agatha’s forehead, her dark curls sticking to her skin as her magic strained under the weight of her determination.

Your breaths came in shallow, laboured gasps, your eyes fluttering open just enough to meet hers. Fear clouded your gaze, tears mingling with the sheen of sweat on your flushed cheeks. “Agatha,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, trembling. “I’m scared.”

Agatha’s chest tightened as if your words had physically struck her. “Don’t be, love,” she murmured, though her own fear pressed against her ribs like a vice. “I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you. Just hold on for me.”

Your lips curved into the faintest of smiles, weak but trusting, as your trembling hand reached up to brush against her face. “You always say that,” you whispered, your voice a ghost of its usual warmth. “And I believe you.”

The glow of Agatha’s magic faltered momentarily, dimming as exhaustion crept in. Panic surged through her veins like fire. “No,” she hissed, her tone sharp as she refocused, pouring more of herself into the spell. “You’re not leaving me. Not like this.”

Behind her, Rio lingered, a cold weight pressing against the clearing as her presence loomed. Agatha didn’t need to turn around to know she was there, silent and watchful. The thought made her fury burn brighter, her determination more unrelenting.

“Stop hovering,” Agatha snapped, her voice biting even as her attention remained fixed on you. “You’re not taking her. Not now, not ever.”

Rio stepped closer, her dark eyes unreadable as she knelt beside the two of you. The air chilled further as her raven hair shimmered in the dim light of Agatha’s magic. “You’re fighting against nature, Agatha,” she said quietly, her voice calm but laden with sorrow. “Even your magic has limits.”

“Shut up,” Agatha growled, her violet energy flaring like a flame fed by gasoline. “I’ll decide when I’ve hit my limit, not you.”

Rio exhaled slowly, her hand twitching as though she wanted to reach for you but restrained herself. Her voice cracked with emotion. “Do you think this is what I want? To stand here, powerless, while you break yourself trying to save her?” She swallowed hard. “Do you think I want to take her from you? From us?”

“Then don’t,” Agatha bit out, her voice as sharp as a blade, cutting through the tension like steel. “Walk away, Rio. Just this once.”

Rio’s shoulders sagged slightly, but her gaze didn’t waver. “You know it doesn’t work like that,” she replied softly, her voice tinged with helplessness. “Fate doesn’t care about what I want.”

A sharp cry from you pulled their attention back to where you lay. Your body convulsed slightly, your hands clawing weakly at the earth as pain wracked your form. “Agatha,” you whimpered, your voice cracking. “The baby…”

Agatha’s heart shattered at the sound of your pain. “I’m here, love,” she said urgently, her hands glowing brighter as she pushed everything she had into stabilising you. “I’m right here. I won’t let you go.”

“She’s slipping,” Rio said softly, her voice almost inaudible over the hum of Agatha’s magic. “Agatha, you need to make a choice.”

“I already made my choice!” Agatha snarled, her magic flaring violently, illuminating the clearing in a burst of violet light. “I’m saving them both.”

Rio’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she moved closer, her hands hovering hesitantly over your stomach. A faint green glow began to emanate from her palms as she channelled her energy into supporting Agatha’s spell.

“What are you doing?” Agatha demanded, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Helping,” Rio said simply, her tone devoid of its usual teasing lilt. “You’re not the only one who loves her, Agatha.”

The admission sent a jolt through Agatha, but there was no time to dwell on it. Together, their magic wove a fragile cocoon around you, a blend of purple and green light that pulsed rhythmically with the faint heartbeat of your child.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours as the two women worked in silence, their energies entwined in a delicate balance. Your breathing began to steady, the sharp cries of pain fading into soft whimpers as the tension in your body eased.

Finally, Agatha collapsed back onto her heels, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. “She’s stable,” she whispered hoarsely. “For now.”

Rio remained kneeling, her gaze fixed on your peaceful face, her expression unreadable. “You bought her time,” she said quietly. “But this isn’t over.”

Agatha’s blue eyes burned as she turned to Rio. “Then we keep buying her time,” she said, her voice resolute. “As much as it takes.”

Rio hesitated, her gaze dropping to your belly. “Agatha,” she began, her voice low and measured. “If it comes down to it… if you have to choose—”

“I won’t,” Agatha interrupted fiercely, her magic sparking faintly at her fingertips. “Don’t you dare ask me to.”

Rio met her gaze evenly, sadness and resolve etched into her features. “You might not have a choice.”

“I always have a choice,” Agatha snapped, her fists clenching as fresh tears burned her eyes. “And I’ll find another way. I always do.”

The tension between them hung heavy in the air, but the stillness was broken when your fingers twitched and your lips parted with a faint murmur. Agatha immediately leaned forward, brushing a damp curl from your forehead. “I’m here, love,” she whispered, her voice softening. “We’re both here.”

Rio reached out hesitantly, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “You’re safe,” she said softly. “We’ve got you.”

Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused but filled with a faint glimmer of recognition. A weak smile tugged at your lips as you looked between them. “You… you’re both here,” you murmured faintly.

Agatha pressed a kiss to your forehead, her tears mingling with the sweat on your skin. “Always,” she said firmly. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Rio nodded silently, her hand lingering on your shoulder as she exchanged a look with Agatha. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the two women shared a moment of unspoken understanding.

No matter what lay ahead, they would face it together.

And for you, they would fight until their last breath.

The cottage was tucked deep into the woods, shrouded in the earthy embrace of ancient trees and the faint hum of magic that Agatha had woven around its perimeter. The air inside was warm, the faint scent of herbs and candles lingering from spells cast earlier in the day. The soft glow of a fire crackled in the stone hearth, its light casting flickering shadows on the walls.

You rested in a small bed nestled against the corner of the room, bundled in blankets. The tension in your body had eased since Agatha and Rio brought you here, but your movements were still slow, your breaths faint and uneven. Agatha had barely left your side since they’d arrived, her hand often resting on yours, as if her touch alone could anchor you to the mortal world.

Rio stood in the doorway, her dark eyes scanning the room as though she didn’t belong there. She lingered, silent but watchful, her presence heavy with something unspoken. Agatha's shoulders tensed every time her gaze flicked toward you, her hand instinctively tightening over yours.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Agatha snapped, not looking up from where she was adjusting the edge of your blanket. Her voice was sharp, brimming with the exhaustion of someone who had barely slept in days. “Or do you have something useful to say?”

Rio stepped further into the room, the firelight catching the glint of her raven hair. “I came to check on her,” she said evenly, her tone measured. “I wasn’t sure if you’d let me.”

“Let you?” Agatha scoffed, finally lifting her eyes to glare at Rio. “You’re lucky I didn’t throw you out of the forest entirely.”

Rio’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. Instead, her gaze softened as it settled on you. “She’s still weak. If there’s anything I can do—”

“You’ve done enough,” Agatha interrupted, her voice dropping to a low growl. She shifted slightly, her body moving to shield you from Rio’s view. “I’m not letting you anywhere near her.”

Rio’s brow furrowed, her expression twisting with something between hurt and frustration. “Agatha,” she said quietly, her voice almost pleading. “You know I’m not here to take her soul. If I wanted to… it would’ve happened already.”

“And I’m supposed to trust that?” Agatha hissed, her magic sparking faintly at her fingertips. “After everything? After you stood there in the clearing, ready to let fate take her from me?”

“I didn’t want to—” Rio started, but her voice faltered as she caught the venom in Agatha’s glare. She sighed, the weight of her eternal role hanging heavily on her shoulders. “You think I had a choice. You always think that. But I didn’t.”

“You always have a choice!” Agatha snapped, her voice rising as she stood, her posture stiff and protective. “You just chose wrong.”

The tension between them thickened, the unspoken wounds of their fractured relationship rising to the surface. Rio’s hands clenched at her sides, and she took a step back, her dark eyes glimmering with frustration. “You think this is easy for me?” she asked, her voice low. “Do you think it doesn’t kill me to see her like this? To see us like this?”

Agatha laughed bitterly, though there was no humour in it. “Don’t you dare make this about you,” she spat. “You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself. Not when she’s the one who nearly died because of you.”

Your fingers twitched weakly against the blanket, and Agatha immediately knelt beside you, her attention snapping back to you as though you were the only thing supporting her. “Love,” she murmured, her voice softening as her hand brushed your cheek. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

You opened your eyes slowly, your gaze hazy as you blinked up at her. “Agatha,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Rio… is she—?”

“She’s here,” Agatha said quickly, her lips pressing into a thin line as her other hand ran through your hair. “But you don’t need to worry about her. She’s not going to touch you.”

Rio stepped closer, her footsteps hesitant. “I wouldn’t hurt her voluntarily,” she said softly, though her words were directed more at you than Agatha. “You know I wouldn’t.”

Agatha’s eyes flashed, and she turned her head sharply to glare at Rio. “Don’t come any closer,” she growled, her magic crackling faintly in the air around her. “I’m warning you.”

Rio froze, her dark eyes filled with something that looked like regret. “Agatha—”

“Don’t test me,” Agatha snarled, her voice low and dangerous. “I’ll fight you again if I have to.”

You weakly reached for Agatha’s hand, your fingers curling around hers in an effort to ease the tension. “Stop,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please… don’t fight.”

Agatha’s expression softened immediately as she turned back to you, her shoulders relaxing as she leaned closer. “I’m sorry, love,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Rio remained where she was, her hands clenched at her sides. She looked at you, her gaze heavy with longing, but she didn’t dare take another step. “I just want to help,” she said quietly. “If you’ll let me.”

Agatha didn’t respond, her focus entirely on you as she brushed a stray curl from your forehead. Her voice was a murmur, meant only for you. “I’m not letting her take you. Not now, not ever.”

Rio lingered in the doorway, the distance between her and the two of you feeling impossibly vast. The rift between them remained, but in the quiet of the cottage, the weight of their love—for you and each other— was like a fragile thread, threatening to snap with the slightest tension.

And as the fire crackled softly, you closed your eyes, exhaustion pulling you under again. Agatha’s touch remained a constant anchor, but even in the haze of sleep, you could feel the heavy presence of Rio, watching from a distance, unable to leave but unable to stay.

The dim light of the realm flickered as Agatha paced back and forth, her blue eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and desperation. Tendrils of purple magic sparked at her fingertips, crackling in the heavy air like distant thunder. Each step she took reverberated with the weight of her emotions. On the other side of the room, Rio leaned against a worn stone pillar, her dark eyes calm but shadowed with an emotion she rarely let surface—guilt.

“You’re telling me you can’t do anything?” Agatha’s voice sliced through the suffocating silence like a blade. Her hands clenched into fists, and the air around her vibrated with the barely restrained power of her magic. “You’re Death, Rio. Death! You’re supposed to have power over this.”

Rio straightened, her dark hair falling around her sharp features like a veil. “And because I’m Death, I know the limits,” she said evenly, though the edge in her voice betrayed her own frustration. “I’ve bought her time. More time than I should have. But it’s catching up, Agatha. You know it as well as I do.”

“Don’t.” Agatha stopped pacing abruptly, turning to face Rio with a look that could have scorched the ground beneath them. Her blue eyes bore into Rio’s, daring her to say more. “Don’t you dare talk about her like she’s just another soul. She’s not some name on your ledger!”

“I never said she was,” Rio snapped, her voice rising as her own composure cracked. She pushed off the pillar and took a step forward, her presence suddenly more commanding. “Do you think this is easy for me? Watching her? Watching you? Knowing I can’t stop what’s coming? Do you think I don’t feel it too?”

Agatha’s chest heaved, her magic flaring dangerously as she closed the distance between them. “Then do something!” she growled, her voice low and venomous. “You have the power, Rio. Use it. Fix this.”

Rio’s expression darkened, her jaw tightening as she stepped even closer. “You think I haven’t tried?” she shot back, her voice breaking with a rare rawness. “You think I don’t want to tear apart every law of existence just to keep her safe? But this isn’t something I can fix with a snap of my fingers. It’s her time, Agatha. And every second I’ve delayed it, I’ve risked tearing everything apart.”

Agatha’s entire body trembled, her hands shaking with the effort of restraining her magic. Her voice cracked as she hissed, “I don’t care about balance. I don’t care about the universe. I care about her. I care about our family. And if you can’t do anything—if you won’t do anything—then what the hell are we even fighting for?”

Rio’s eyes softened, her own frustration melting into an aching sorrow that she couldn’t fully mask. “Agatha,” she said quietly, her voice losing its sharpness. “You know I love her. You know I’d give anything to keep her here. But even I have limits. Even I can’t outrun death forever.”

For a moment, the only sound between them was the faint hum of Agatha’s magic, pulsing in rhythm with her ragged breaths. The silence was heavy, filled with unspoken fears and shared pain that neither of them knew how to voice. Slowly, the violet glow at Agatha’s fingertips dimmed, though her hands still trembled with the weight of her emotions.

“She’s not just anyone,” Agatha whispered, her voice raw with anguish. “She’s F/N. She’s ours.”

Rio nodded, her calm facade cracking just enough to reveal the depths of her pain. “I know,” she said softly, her voice laced with regret. She took another cautious step forward. “But what do you want me to do? Steal time from the universe? Take life from others to give it to her? You know she wouldn’t want that.”

Agatha’s breath hitched, her gaze dropping to the ground as her voice faltered. “I just… I can’t lose her,” she admitted, the words barely audible, trembling in the air like fragile glass. “I can’t lose her again.”

Rio hesitated before reaching out, her hand brushing against Agatha’s arm with a gentleness that felt foreign in the heavy atmosphere. “Neither can I,” she murmured, her voice steady but heavy with sorrow. “But if we keep holding on too tightly, we’ll lose more than just her. We’ll lose ourselves. And she’d never forgive us for that.”

Agatha’s shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of her as Rio’s words seeped into her defences. The sparks of magic around her hands flickered and faded, leaving only a faint hum in the air. Her voice trembled as she finally spoke. “You’re asking me to let her go.”

Rio shook her head slowly, her dark eyes locked onto Agatha’s. “I’m asking you to love her in the way she needs—to let her live without the weight of our desperation crushing her.” She paused, her gaze unwavering. “And to let me do my job when the time comes.”

Agatha looked up, her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her lips quivered as she whispered, “I hate you.”

Rio’s lips curled into a faint, bittersweet smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “I know,” she said softly.

For a moment, the two women stood in silence, their love for you and their pain for what they couldn’t control binding them together even as it tore them apart. Agatha’s fists tightened at her sides, and she turned away, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’ll stay away from her for now.”

Rio hesitated but eventually nodded, stepping back into the shadows. “For now,” she agreed, her voice hollow.

As the light in the realm dimmed once more, Agatha stood frozen, her heart shattering under the weight of what she could not stop. Even as Rio disappeared from view, the heaviness in the air lingered—a reminder of the love they shared for you and the cruel fate that bound them all.

The quiet of the night enveloped the room, broken only by the crackling of the small fire in the hearth. You lay propped up against a mountain of pillows, your face pale but serene, the shadows of exhaustion softening your features. Your hands rested on your swollen belly, your fingers tracing slow, soothing circles. Agatha sat beside you, holding your hand tightly, her piercing blue eyes never straying far from your face. The tension in her body was palpable, every muscle coiled, ready to protect you from a threat she couldn’t touch.

Rio lingered in the doorway, her dark eyes shadowed as she watched the two of you. Her presence was heavy, her silence filled with unspoken words she didn’t know how to say. The air between her and Agatha crackled faintly, not with magic but with the weight of everything unsaid.

Your voice broke the stillness, soft and fragile like the first crack of ice on a frozen lake. “Agatha,” you began, your gaze shifting to meet hers. The intensity of her eyes—the way they softened for you—made your heart ache. “I need you to promise me something.”

Agatha’s brow furrowed deeply, her grip on your hand tightening as though holding you tethered to her would keep you safe. “Anything,” she said immediately, her voice firm despite the emotion trembling beneath it. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

A faint smile flickered across your lips, your hand brushing against hers. “If something happens to me during the birth…” You hesitated, swallowing hard, the words heavy and bitter on your tongue. “Promise me you’ll save the baby.”

Agatha’s expression froze, the colour draining from her face as if the words had struck her physically. Her body stiffened, her entire being rejecting the thought. “Don’t,” she said sharply, her voice low and strained. “Don’t say that. You’re going to be fine. We’re all going to be fine.”

“Agatha.” Your tone was firm, cutting through her resistance as your fingers tightened around hers. “Listen to me. Please. I need you to hear this.”

From the doorway, Rio’s voice came, soft but weighted with the gravity of her role. “She’s right, Agatha,” she said, stepping forward cautiously, her shadow stretching across the room. “You need to—”

“Not now,” you said, raising a hand to silence her, your gaze never leaving Agatha. “This is between me and her.”

Agatha’s jaw clenched, her breathing uneven as she shook her head. “I’m not making that promise,” she said, her voice laced with defiance. The faint purple glow of her magic sparked at her fingertips, betraying the storm raging inside her. “I refuse to make that choice. I won’t lose you, not again. Not after everything we’ve fought for.”

Tears welled in your eyes, though you tried to keep your voice steady. “It’s not about losing me,” you said gently. “It’s about giving our baby a chance to live, to grow, to have a future. You can’t fight Death forever, Agatha. Not even for me.”

Agatha’s gaze dropped to your joined hands, her silence thick with turmoil. When she finally spoke, her voice was hoarse, cracked by the weight of her emotions. “You’re asking me to give up the person I love most in this world.”

“And I’m asking you to love our child enough to do what’s right,” you whispered, your voice trembling but resolute. “Agatha, I need to know that our baby will have you, even if I can’t be there.”

Rio stepped closer, her movements slow, cautious. Her dark eyes softened as they flicked to you. “She’s not wrong,” she said quietly, her tone steady but carrying a deep sadness. “I’ll be here. I’ll do everything I can to make sure our child makes it through.”

You turned your gaze to Rio, offering her a faint, weary smile. “I trust you, Rio,” you murmured. “But this isn’t about magic or power. It’s about being prepared for the worst.” Your attention shifted back to Agatha, your voice breaking as you added, “I need you to promise me.”

Agatha’s shoulders trembled as she inhaled shakily, her lips pressing into a thin, defiant line. The weight of your plea crushed her, an immovable force against the love that burned inside her. Slowly, reluctantly, she nodded, her voice barely audible as she whispered, “I promise.”

You let out a shaky breath, relief mingling with the sadness in your eyes. “Thank you,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against her cheek. “I love you.”

Agatha leaned forward, pressing her forehead against yours. The tears she had held back slipped free, streaking down her cheeks as her voice cracked. “I love you more than anything,” she whispered fiercely. “More than life itself.”

Rio stood silently, her chest tight as she watched the exchange. The shadow of her role as Death loomed over her like a silent spectre, a reminder of what might come. Her hands twitched at her sides, her heart aching with the knowledge of the inevitabilities she could not change.

Agatha turned slightly, her gaze finding Rio as if sensing her presence. “Stay where you are,” she said sharply, her voice low and dangerous. “I don’t want you near her.”

Rio’s brows furrowed, the faintest flicker of pain crossing her face. “Agatha—”

“I said stay back!” Agatha growled, her magic sparking faintly around her. “You’ve already taken enough from us.”

Rio hesitated but nodded, retreating a step, her expression one of quiet understanding. “I’ll be here,” she murmured, her voice soft but resolute. “If you need me.”

The quiet returned, broken only by the crackle of the fire as Agatha’s hand brushed gently against your hair. “Rest,” she murmured, her voice trembling but tender. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

Rio lingered by the doorway, her shadow blending with the flickering light of the fire. Though the bond between the three of you had frayed under the weight of loss and love, her presence remained a silent promise, her own love for you holding her in place.

And as your eyes fluttered closed, Agatha and Rio remained rooted in their shared pain and devotion, bound by the fragile thread of hope that still held you all together.

The room was silent after you drifted back to sleep, your breathing steady, your hand still clutching Agatha’s like a lifeline. Agatha sat motionless beside you, her fingers intertwined with yours as if letting go would allow you to slip away. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting flickering shadows that danced on the walls, but even its warmth couldn’t ease the chill settling over her heart.

Rio leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest, her expression unreadable. The faint glow of the firelight reflected in her dark eyes, but the shadows beneath them betrayed the weight she carried. Finally, after a long moment, she broke the silence, her voice low and cautious. “She’s braver than both of us.”

Agatha didn’t look up, focusing entirely on you as her thumb brushed over your knuckles in a steady rhythm. Her jaw tightened, and her voice, when it came, was thick with restrained emotion. “She shouldn’t have to be,” she murmured. “I’m supposed to protect her. I promised her a life of love, not… this.”

Rio pushed off the doorframe, her movements slow and deliberate as she stepped closer. Her dark eyes softened as she took in the scene before her—the woman she loved, the fragile person they both adored, lying between them like the thread that bound their fractured relationship together. “Agatha,” she said gently, her tone careful. “You’ve done everything you can to keep her safe. You can’t carry all of this on your shoulders.”

“Can’t I?” Agatha’s head snapped up, her sharp blue eyes blazing with frustration. “I’ve spent my life mastering magic, bending the rules of nature itself, to make sure she’d never know this kind of pain. And yet, here we are.”

Rio hesitated, but she moved closer, her hands still at her sides as though afraid to reach out. “You’ve done more than anyone else could,” she said quietly. “More than anyone else ever would. But there are limits to what even you can do, Agatha.”

Agatha’s glare hardened. “Don’t you dare talk to me about limits,” she hissed, her voice sharp enough to cut. “You don’t know what it’s like. You stand there and watch—you let this happen—because you’re too bound by your so-called rules to fight for her.”

Rio flinched, her composure cracking for just a moment before she schooled her features into calm again. “Do you think I don’t feel it too?” she said softly, her voice raw despite her restraint. “Do you think I don’t love her enough to want to change all of this? But you know what I am. You know what I’m bound to.”

Agatha let out a bitter laugh, though it was thick with pain. “You’re Death. The one thing no one can escape. And now you expect me to just sit here and wait for you to take her away.”

“I don’t expect you to do anything,” Rio replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I would never want to take her from you. From us.” Her dark eyes flicked to you, lingering on the peaceful rise and fall of your chest. “But this isn’t something I can control, Agatha. No matter how much I might want to.”

Agatha’s fingers tightened around yours, her free hand trembling as she smoothed a stray lock of hair from your forehead. “She made me promise,” she said, her voice breaking under the weight of the memory. “She asked me to choose the baby over her if it came to that.”

Rio’s gaze softened further, and she crouched down beside Agatha, though she made sure to keep her distance. “She doesn’t want you to carry more pain than you already have,” she murmured. “She loves you enough to think of your future, even if it doesn’t include her.”

“It feels like betrayal,” Agatha admitted, her voice trembling. “How can I promise to let her go when every part of me is screaming to hold on?”

Rio didn’t answer immediately. She stayed still, her presence steady even as her own emotions simmered beneath the surface. Finally, she said softly, “Because that’s what love is, Agatha. It’s not just holding on—it’s knowing when to let go. Even when it breaks you.”

Agatha’s head lowered, her tears falling silently as her shoulders shook. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she whispered, “I hate this. I hate you for being part of it.”

Rio’s dark eyes glistened with unspoken sorrow, but she nodded, her voice steady despite the crack threatening to break it. “I know,” she said simply. “And I’m sorry.”

For a moment, the two women sat in silence, their shared burden heavy between them. Agatha’s anger and Rio’s guilt coiled tightly in the air, but both of them stayed where they were, bound by the love they shared for you and the impossible choices looming ahead.

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its glow painting the room in shades of warmth and shadow. Agatha’s hand brushed gently against yours as she pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles, her voice trembling as she whispered, “I won’t lose you. I can’t.”

Rio didn’t reply. She stayed there, her gaze fixed on you, her hands clenched at her sides. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—speak the truth that hung in the back of her mind: that when the time came, she might not have a choice. Because to say it would only fuel Agatha’s rage, and because, deep down, it was the one inevitability that broke her just as much as it broke Agatha.

The silence stretched long into the night, filled with unspoken fears and a fragile hope that none of them dared to voice. For now, Rio remained in the shadows, watching as Agatha held you close, her love burning brighter than ever.

As the weeks passed, you grew quieter, your strength waning as your belly swelled with the life inside you. Agatha became your constant shadow, rarely leaving your side for more than a few moments. Her entire world seemed to narrow to you and the child you carried, her fierce protectiveness manifesting in every glance, every touch, and every whispered reassurance. She hovered over you like a storm, her presence an unrelenting shield against the world.

Rio, meanwhile, managed the day-to-day practicalities. She ensured the cottage was well-stocked, checked and rechecked the magical wards surrounding the property, and kept watch over the realm for any signs of danger. Her movements were efficient and deliberate, but there was an unspoken heaviness in her gaze whenever it landed on you. She tried not to linger near you and Agatha too long, knowing her presence only added to the tension that simmered beneath the surface.

One evening, as the setting sun bathed the sitting room in warm hues of amber and gold, you lay curled up on the chaise with Agatha. Your head rested against her shoulder as she read to you from an old, leather-bound book, her voice soft and soothing. Her arm was draped protectively around you, her free hand absently tracing circles over your belly. You felt the vibrations of her voice through her chest, supporting you in a way that no spell or charm ever could.

The door creaked open, and Rio entered carrying a tray with tea and biscuits. She hesitated in the doorway for a moment, her dark eyes flicking between the two of you. Her usual calm exterior didn’t waver, but there was a subtle tension in the way she held the tray, as though she were bracing herself.

She set the tray down on the small table near the fire and crossed her arms, leaning against the edge of the chair across the room. “You two look cosy,” she said lightly, her voice tinged with her usual light humour.

You opened your eyes halfway, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite the exhaustion that weighed on you. “You’re jealous,” you murmured, your tone playful even though it came out weak.

Rio’s lips curved into a small smile, though her gaze softened. “Always,” she replied simply, her voice quieter now.

Agatha didn’t respond, focusing entirely on you as she continued tracing gentle patterns on your arm. Her sharp eyes flicked briefly toward Rio but quickly returned to you as if any moment spent acknowledging Rio’s presence might give her an opening to do what Agatha feared most.

You shifted slightly, placing your hand over Agatha’s as you glanced at Rio with a tired but teasing grin. “Lucky kid,” you said softly, your voice carrying a faint lilt of humour. “Gets to have Death as his mama.”

The air in the room shifted, the playful remark landing heavier than you likely intended. Agatha stiffened beside you, her body tensing as her jaw tightened. Her hand stopped moving against your arm, and for a moment, the only sound was the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth.

Rio chuckled faintly, though the sound didn’t carry much humour. “He’ll be luckier to have two mothers who’d do anything for him,” she said, her tone gentle but steady. She didn’t move closer, staying rooted in her spot across the room as her dark gaze lingered on you.

You looked between the two women, sensing the unspoken tension that had grown thicker over the past weeks. Your hand tightened slightly over Agatha’s, supporting her as you leaned back into her warmth. “Do you think he’ll be okay?” you asked softly, your other hand moving to rest on your swollen belly. “Our baby?”

Agatha’s lips parted as if to speak, but her voice faltered. She swallowed hard, her hand covering yours over your belly. It was Rio who broke the silence, her voice steady but low. “He’ll be perfect,” she said firmly, her eyes locking on yours. “And we’ll make sure he’s safe.”

Agatha’s hand trembled slightly as she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “He’ll have everything we didn’t,” she murmured. “Love, safety, and… a future.”

You smiled faintly, the weight of the conversation pulling at your features. “A future,” you repeated softly, your eyes drifting closed for a moment. “That’s all I want for him.”

Agatha’s grip on you tightened imperceptibly, her chin brushing against your hair as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Rest, love,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

Rio stayed where she was, her arms crossed as she watched the two of you. The faintest flicker of a smile touched her lips, but her eyes were heavy with emotions she couldn’t voice. She wanted to step closer, to sit with you and reassure you as much as Agatha did, but she knew better. Agatha’s protectiveness over you had only grown sharper with time, and any attempt to close the distance now would only stoke the flames of her fear.

The firelight flickered softly as the room settled into silence again. Agatha remained at your side, her hand resting protectively on your belly, while Rio lingered in the background, her shadow stretching across the floor. Though they didn’t speak to each other, the love they both felt for you filled the space between them—a love that bound them even as it fractured the fragile balance of their relationship.

And as the fire crackled and you drifted into a light sleep, Agatha’s hold on you didn’t loosen. Her sharp eyes darted briefly to Rio, her jaw tightening as though daring her to make a move. Rio didn’t. She stayed rooted in place, her expression unreadable, her presence a silent reminder of the inevitability neither of them wanted to face.

For now, the tension remained unspoken, the fragile peace held together by their shared devotion to you and the life growing within you.

The days blurred into an anxious haze as your due date crept closer, each moment heavy with anticipation and dread. The tension in the cottage was palpable, a shadow that seemed to stretch across every interaction. Agatha barely left your side, her eyes constantly scanning you for any sign of discomfort or distress. Her presence was fierce and protective, an unrelenting force that seemed determined to shield you from the world.

Rio, ever the silent observer, hovered at the edges of the household. She rarely spoke, her dark eyes watchful and brooding as she moved through the space, preparing for every possibility. Her presence, though quiet, was impossible to ignore—a constant reminder of the inevitabilities that hung over all of you.

One evening, as you leaned against a mountain of pillows in the sitting room, you tried to lighten the mood. “You two are going to smother me before this baby even arrives,” you teased, a faint smile gracing your lips despite the exhaustion etched into your features. Your hands rested protectively on your belly, the simple gesture grounding you amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

“Smothering?” Agatha scoffed, though the faint flicker of purple magic at her fingertips betrayed her anxiety. “I call it being attentive, thank you very much.”

From the doorway, Rio leaned casually against the frame, her dark hair brushing her shoulders as she raised a brow. “Attentive?” she drawled. “More like borderline obsessive.”

Agatha’s head snapped up, her icy eyes narrowing into a sharp glare. “This from the woman who refuses to leave the house because ‘something might happen,’” she shot back, her voice laced with tension.

“Guilty,” Rio admitted unapologetically, her grin faint but genuine. “But let’s not pretend you’re subtle, Agatha. The moment she so much as sneezes, you act like the world’s ending.”

You laughed softly, though the sound carried a hint of weariness. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two are more nervous than I am.”

“Nervous doesn’t begin to cover it,” Agatha muttered, her voice softening as she reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. Her touch lingered, her hand trembling slightly as her gaze searched yours for reassurance. “This baby means everything to us. You mean everything to us.”

Rio’s expression shifted, her usual sharpness giving way to a rare vulnerability. She glanced at you, then at Agatha, her voice quiet when she finally spoke. “You’ve been through a lot,” she admitted, the words tinged with an uncharacteristic rawness. “But this? This is something we can’t afford to lose.”

Your heart ached at the emotion in their voices, the love and fear that bound the three of you together despite the fractures in your relationship. You reached out, taking both of their hands in yours. Agatha’s hand tightened instinctively, while Rio hesitated for a brief moment before letting your fingers close around hers.

“We won’t lose,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the tears glistening in your eyes. “We’ve made it this far together. We’ll make it through this too.”

The words echoed, a balm that eased the tension in the room, if only for a moment. Agatha said nothing, her jaw tight as she looked down at your joined hands. Rio, too, remained quiet, her dark eyes shadowed with something unreadable. Yet, the weight in the room lifted slightly, giving way to a fragile peace.

But as the days passed, the reality of your condition became harder to ignore. The once-fragile peace began to crack under the strain of what lay ahead.

It was early morning when the first sharp pain woke you. The cottage was still, the faint glow of dawn just beginning to peek through the curtains. You gasped, your hand flying instinctively to your belly as a wave of nausea rolled over you, leaving you breathless.

Agatha was at your side in an instant, her blue eyes wide with concern. “What is it?” she said urgently, her hands hovering just above you, trembling slightly as if afraid to touch you and make it worse. “What’s wrong?”

You winced, struggling to steady your breathing as the pain rippled through you again. “I… I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice strained. “It feels… different.”

The door to the room creaked open, and Rio appeared moments later. She didn’t say anything at first, her dark eyes narrowing as she took in the scene—Agatha kneeling by your side, her magic sparking faintly at her fingertips, and you, trembling and clutching your belly.

“Is it time?” Rio asked finally, her voice low but tense. She stayed near the door, her presence looming but not invasive.

Agatha shot her a quick glare, her jaw tightening. “I don’t know,” she admitted through gritted teeth. Her focus returned to you, her hands moving carefully to help you sit up. “But we’re not taking any chances.”

Rio didn’t move closer, her arms crossing tightly over her chest as she stayed rooted near the doorway. Agatha, for her part, barely acknowledged her presence, her attention consumed by you. Her hands brushed over your hair, her voice softening as she murmured, “I’m here, love. I’ve got you.”

You leaned into Agatha’s touch, the pain ebbing slightly under the weight of her presence. Your breath came in shallow gasps, but you managed to nod, gripping her arm weakly. “I… I think it might be starting,” you whispered.

Agatha’s magic surged faintly in response, the violet light at her fingertips casting flickering shadows across the walls. Her expression hardened with determination, even as a flicker of fear glimmered in her blue eyes. “Then we’re ready,” she said, her voice steady but strained.

Rio lingered silently, her gaze fixed on you. Her hands clenched at her sides, but she didn’t move closer. Agatha’s protectiveness burned like a shield around you, and Rio knew better than to test it now. Instead, she stayed where she was, her dark eyes heavy with the weight of everything she couldn’t say.

The tension in the room was palpable, the air charged with both love and fear. And as the morning light crept further into the room, you gripped Agatha’s hand tightly, bracing yourself for what was to come.

The labour room was a maelstrom of chaos and emotion, tension thick enough to suffocate. Your cries of pain tore through the air, raw and unrelenting, as Agatha clung to your hand like it was the only anchor she had left. Blood soaked the sheets beneath you, vivid and horrifying against the white fabric, spilling far too freely for anyone’s comfort. Agatha’s eyes darted between your pale, sweat-slicked face and the midwife’s grim expression, her panic barely restrained behind a mask of determination.

“Push, doll,” Agatha urged, her voice steady despite the tremor of fear deep in her core. She leaned close, brushing damp strands of hair from your flushed face, her grip on your hand unrelenting. “You’re almost there. Just one more.”

Your chest heaved, your breathing ragged as the contraction wracked your body. Tears streaked your cheeks, and your voice broke with exhaustion as you whimpered, “I can’t… I can’t do this… It hurts so much.”

“You can,” Agatha said firmly, her voice commanding and unwavering. “You’re stronger than this. You’ve come too far to stop now. You’re almost there, love.”

The midwife worked frantically at the foot of the bed, barking orders to her assistant, who scrambled to fetch more cloth. Blood was everywhere, a terrifying reminder of the precariousness of the moment. Agatha’s mind raced with incantations, her magic sparking faintly at her fingertips as she searched desperately for something—anything—that could help. But magic, her greatest strength, felt useless here. She couldn’t destroy what threatened to take you from her. And for the first time in centuries, she felt truly powerless.

Rio stood silently in the corner of the room, her dark eyes fixed on you. Her presence was heavy, oppressive even, though her usual commanding aura was muted. Death lingered in her stance, in the tightness of her jaw, in the way her lips pressed into a grim line. She didn’t need to speak for Agatha to feel it—time was slipping away.

“Do something!” Agatha snarled suddenly, her head snapping toward Rio. Her voice was venomous, her blue eyes blazing with fury. “You can’t just stand there and watch!”

Rio’s gaze didn’t waver. Her voice, when it came, was low but steady. “You know I can’t interfere.”

“Like hell you can’t!” Agatha spat, her grip tightening on your hand as another contraction tore through you, wrenching a scream from your throat. “This isn’t just some arbitrary soul, Rio. This is her. This is our life. And I’ll be damned if you take her from me!”

“Agatha…” you whimpered weakly, your voice barely audible over the chaos. Your head rolled to the side as fresh tears slipped down your cheeks. “Stop… please… don’t fight…”

Agatha’s sharp gaze softened, vulnerability cracking through her unyielding façade as she turned back to you. “You have to stay with me,” she whispered fiercely, her hand trembling as she cupped your face. “You hear me? You have to stay.”

Another contraction hit, and you screamed, your body arching as blood poured from you in unrelenting waves. The midwife’s assistant hurriedly replaced the soaked cloth, her hands shaking. “The baby is close,” the midwife said urgently, her tone grim, “but the mother—she’s losing too much blood.”

You gasped faintly, your strength fading. “Save… the baby,” you murmured, your voice so weak it was almost lost beneath the midwife’s hurried commands.

“No,” Agatha barked, her head snapping toward you. “Don’t you dare say that!”

“Please,” you whispered, tears spilling freely now. “Promise me…”

Agatha’s hands trembled as she cradled your face, her magic sparking erratically. “No, love. We’re not doing that,” she choked out, her voice breaking. “You’re going to make it. Both of you are going to make it.”

The tension in the room reached a fever pitch as your final scream shattered the air. Then, finally, the sharp cry of the baby cut through the chaos. The sound was piercing, raw, and beautiful all at once, and for a brief, miraculous moment, the room seemed to pause.

“It’s a boy,” the midwife announced, wrapping the squirming infant in a bloodied cloth before holding him out to Agatha.

Agatha took the tiny bundle into her arms, her breath catching as she stared down at him. His cries were strong, his little fists flailing as if protesting the ordeal of his arrival. “He’s perfect,” Agatha murmured, her tears falling freely as she looked at him. “Absolutely perfect.”

But the moment shattered as you gasped sharply, your body convulsing. Agatha’s head snapped back to you, panic flooding her expression. “No, no, no. F/N!” she cried, clutching your hand. Blood continued to pour from you, staining everything in its path.

“She’s fading,” Rio said quietly, stepping forward. Her voice was steady, but the tightness in her expression betrayed the depth of her own pain.

“No!” Agatha snarled, her magic flaring violently, the room trembling with the force of her power. “You’re not taking her, Rio! I’ll destroy everything if you try.”

Your hand weakly brushed against Agatha’s arm, drawing her attention. “Agatha…” you murmured, your voice faint but full of love. “Stop… I love you…”

“Don’t you dare leave me,” Agatha whispered, her tears falling faster as she pressed a kiss to your clammy forehead. “You stay with me, you hear me?”

Rio knelt beside you both, her expression unreadable as she extended her hands. “Agatha,” she said firmly, “I can help. But you must let me.”

Agatha hesitated, her entire body trembling. For a moment, her magic surged again, crackling in the air around her, but then she relented. Slowly, reluctantly, she loosened her grip on her power. “Do it,” she growled. “But if you take her…”

“I won’t,” Rio said quietly, her hands glowing faintly as her power washed over you like a soft, steady wave. The bleeding slowed, though it didn’t stop completely. Sweat beaded on Rio’s brow as she pushed against her own limits. “This will buy her time,” she said through gritted teeth. “But it’s up to her now.”

Agatha sobbed, clutching the baby close as she pressed another kiss to your forehead. “You hear that, love? You fight. You hold on for us.”

Your lips twitched into a faint smile as your eyes fluttered closed. “Nicky,” you murmured softly.

Agatha’s heart clenched, her voice breaking as she repeated, “Nicky. Our Nicholas.”

The baby’s cries softened as if soothed by your voice. Agatha held him close, her tears falling freely as she whispered, “He’s perfect, F/N. Just like you.”

Rio sat back slightly, her dark eyes heavy as she watched you breathe, each rise and fall of your chest a fragile miracle. Agatha didn’t look at her; her entire world was consumed by you and the tiny life in her arms. For now, you had survived. But the weight of what had almost been lingered between them, a reminder of how close they had come to losing everything.

The tension in the dimly lit room was suffocating, pressing down on every breath. The midwife and her assistant moved swiftly, their hands deft and precise as they worked to stabilise you. The bleeding had slowed, but their faces remained pale with worry. When your breathing evened out, and you fell into a fragile sleep, the midwife looked to Agatha, her voice low but urgent. “She’s stable, for now.”

Agatha nodded sharply, her expression carved from stone. “Thank you,” she said curtly, her voice tight with exhaustion. The midwife hesitated as her gaze flicked between Agatha, you, and the baby in Agatha's arms, but finally, she turned to leave. She and her assistant exited quietly, the door clicking shut behind them.

The silence followed was heavy and oppressive, broken only by the crackling fire and your soft, laboured breaths. Agatha stood at the edge of the bed, her blue eyes fixed on you. Your face, pale and damp with sweat, was peaceful in sleep, though the strain lingered faintly in the lines of your brow. Nicky stirred in Agatha's arms, his tiny body warm and content, blissfully unaware of the storm surrounding him.

Rio stepped forward from her place by the door, her dark eyes shadowed with regret. “She’s alive,” she said quietly, her voice heavy. “For now.”

Agatha didn’t look at her, her attention fixed on you as she carefully craded Nicky. The baby whimpered faintly at the movement, but she pulled him close, murmuring softly until he settled against her chest. “And she’ll stay that way,” Agatha said, her voice low and dangerous.

“You know the cost,” Rio said, her voice carrying an unmistakable weight. “You know what it’ll take.”

Agatha finally turned to her, her blue eyes blazing with unrelenting resolve. “I don’t care.”

Rio hesitated, her dark gaze flicking between Agatha and the child she held. “You’re talking about taking lives, Agatha. This isn’t something you can undo.”

“I don’t want to undo it,” Agatha snapped, her magic sparking faintly at her fingertips. “I’ll give you whatever you need. Whoever you need. Just tell me what to do.”

Rio’s lips tightened into a thin line, her usual calm cracking under the weight of Agatha’s determination. “This isn’t a game,” she said quietly. “These are lives—souls that don’t deserve to be taken.”

“Don’t talk to me about who deserves what,” Agatha hissed, her grip tightening around Nicky protectively. “You want to talk about fairness? About justice? After everything that’s been taken from us?” Her voice cracked slightly, but the fire in her gaze didn’t waver. “If I have to destroy the lives of strangers to save the only family I have, then so be it.”

Rio’s expression softened for a moment, sorrow flickering in her dark eyes. “You’re sure?” she asked quietly, though the answer was already clear.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Agatha said firmly, her voice cold with finality. She glanced down at you, her expression softening as her hand brushed against your damp forehead. “She’s everything. He’s everything. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe.”

Rio exhaled slowly, her shoulders sagging as she stepped closer. “It’s not just the souls,” she murmured. “Once this starts, you’ll have to live with what you’ve done. You’ll carry that weight forever.”

“Then I’ll carry it,” Agatha shot back without hesitation. “I’ll carry it for her. For him. It doesn’t matter what it costs me. I’ll pay it.”

Nicky shifted slightly in her arms, his tiny hand brushing against her chest, and Agatha leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head. Her magic crackled faintly in the air around her, charged with the intensity of her resolve. “You tell me what you need, Rio,” she said, her voice dropping to a low growl. “And I’ll deliver it.”

Rio nodded slowly, her gaze lingering on you as you slept. “You’re not afraid of becoming the monster, are you?” she asked softly, her voice laced with sadness.

Agatha’s laugh was bitter, her eyes narrowing. “If being a monster means keeping her alive, then yes,” she said fiercely. “I’ll be whatever I need to be.”

The fire crackled softly, its light casting flickering shadows across the room. Rio stood silent for a moment, her expression unreadable, before she took a step back. “You’ve made your choice,” she said quietly. “I won’t stop you.”

Agatha turned back to you and Nicky, her focus unyielding. She adjusted the baby in her arms, holding him close as she sat carefully on the edge of the bed. Her free hand brushed against your cheek, her voice softening as she whispered, “You’re going to stay with us, doll. No matter what it takes.”

And as the firelight glimmered in her eyes, there was no hesitation in her heart. Whatever the price, Agatha would pay it. For you. For Nicky. For the family she refused to lose.

Agatha’s determination was as unyielding as the magic crackling at her fingertips. She had made her choice—whatever it took to save you and Nicky, she would do. The cost didn’t matter. The lives she would trade meant nothing compared to the life she had built with you. No one, not even Rio, could dissuade her from the path she had chosen. Agatha Harkness was a witch of extraordinary power, and now, she would wield every ounce of it to keep her family intact.

The coven of witches she sought was notorious—ruthless, power-hungry, and always eager to expand their strength through dangerous and questionable rituals. They were powerful, yes, but not as powerful as Agatha. She arrived at their hidden lair with precision, her expression cold and unyielding. Purple energy sparked faintly at her fingertips as she pushed open the heavy wooden doors with a mere flick of her wrist.

Inside, the witches turned, their eyes narrowing with suspicion and unease. The eldest of the coven, a tall woman with wild grey-streaked hair, stepped forward. “Agatha Harkness,” she said sharply, her tone laced with disdain. “What business do you have here?”

Agatha’s lips curved into a cold smile, her blue eyes gleaming with purpose. “An opportunity,” she said smoothly, her voice steady and confident. “A trade that will give you more power than you’ve ever dreamed of.”

The coven exchanged wary glances, their curiosity battling their mistrust. The leader tilted her head, studying Agatha carefully. “And why would a witch of your strength offer us such a thing?” she asked, her tone biting.

“Because I need something in return,” Agatha replied, stepping forward. The purple glow of her magic intensified slightly, casting flickering shadows across the room. “Something only you can provide.”

The leader’s suspicion deepened, but there was temptation in her gaze. “And what, exactly, do you seek, Harkness?”

Agatha’s smile widened, but it didn’t soften. “Your power,” she said simply, her voice like steel. “All of it.”

Realisation dawned on the witches, and the room erupted into chaos. Spells were cast with desperate speed, bolts of magic crackling through the air as they hurled their attacks at Agatha. But Agatha didn’t flinch. She didn’t need to. As the first strike hit her, her magic flared in response, absorbing the energy like a sponge.

The witches’ attacks fed her power, each strike siphoned into her own magic, amplifying it. The violet tendrils surrounding her lashed out, wrapping around the witches like serpents. They screamed as their energy was torn from them, their bodies withering as their life force drained away. Skin shrivelled, eyes hollowed, and one by one, they collapsed to the floor, their lifeless forms little more than dried husks.

The leader, the last to fall, clawed at the air as Agatha’s magic coiled around her throat. “Mercy,” she croaked, her voice barely audible over the crackling energy.

Agatha tilted her head, her smile fading into something colder. “There’s no mercy here,” she said quietly before the final tendril of magic surged forward, leaving the leader’s body crumpled alongside the others.

When the last echo of their screams faded, Agatha stood in the centre of the carnage, her chest heaving. The power coursing through her was immense, nearly overwhelming, but she embraced it. It was enough. It had to be enough. She’d done it. It was enough—for now.

When Agatha returned to the cottage, the night was unnervingly quiet. Inside, you were sitting by the fire, Nicky cradled in your arms. Your eyes lit up with relief when you saw her, but your face was pale, exhaustion still etched into your features.

“Agatha,” you said softly, your voice faint but warm. “You’re back.”

“I’m here, doll,” she replied, her voice calm despite the raw energy still humming through her veins. She knelt beside you, her eyes softening as they fell on you and the baby. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” you admitted, leaning into her touch as she brushed a curl from your forehead. “But better.”

“Good,” Agatha murmured. Her hand lingered on your cheek as she pressed a kiss to your temple. “You’re going to be fine. Both of you.”

You nodded, your grip on Nicky loosening slightly as the baby stirred in your arms. “I was worried,” you whispered. “You were gone so long.”

“I had to make sure everything was safe,” Agatha said, her voice low and soothing. “But you don’t need to worry anymore. I’ll take care of everything.”

Your eyes fluttered closed as sleep pulled you under, your breathing evening out. Agatha carefully lifted Nicky from your arms, cradling him close as she stood. She rocked him gently, her lips brushing his soft forehead. “You’ll be safe,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “I’ll keep you safe.”

When she was sure you were asleep, she turned toward the doorway. Rio stepped out from the shadows, her dark eyes heavy with something between sorrow and resignation. “It won’t last forever,” Rio said quietly. “You know that.”

“I’ll do what I have to,” Agatha replied sharply, her blue eyes blazing. “I’ll find more. As many as it takes.”

“You’re hunting witches,” Rio said softly, her voice laced with regret. “Draining their lives, stealing their power. How many will it take to keep her alive? How long can you keep this up?”

“As long as I need to,” Agatha said firmly, her grip on Nicky tightening. “I’ll hunt every witch, every creature with the power to give if it means keeping her here.”

Rio’s expression flickered, but she didn’t argue. “And when she finds out?”

“She won’t,” Agatha said quickly, her voice hardening. “She doesn’t need to know. All she needs is to live. That’s all that matters.”

Rio sighed, stepping back into the shadows. “You’ve made your choice, Agatha,” she said softly before disappearing into the night.

Agatha stood for a long moment, her gaze shifting between you and the firelight flickering across the room. She kissed Nicky’s forehead again, holding him close as a faint tremor ran through her. Soon, she would have to leave again. Soon, she would have to hunt. But for now, she knelt beside you, her hand brushing over your sleeping face.

“You’ll never know,” she whispered, her voice a mix of love and despair. “You’ll never know what I’ve done for you.”

And as the fire crackled softly, Agatha’s resolve burned brighter than ever. She would keep you alive—whatever it took, whoever it cost.

The years had not softened Agatha’s resolve nor eased the strain on your heart. Six years had passed since your lives had irreversibly changed—since Rio left not long before Nicky’s birth, leaving you with an ache that had never fully healed. Six years since Agatha made the unrelenting choice to do whatever it took to keep you alive. The three of you moved constantly, never lingering in one place for too long, always leaving whispers of a powerful witch and her family in your wake. No matter how far you travelled, the shadows of the past always followed.

Nicky, now six years old, was the brightest light in your life. He was quick-witted, curious, and kind, with your quiet determination, Agatha’s sharpness, and a smile that was unmistakably Rio’s. That smile—radiant and full of life—warmed your heart and broke it all at once, a reminder of what you had lost and what you still carried.

Tonight, under a canopy of stars, Nicky lay curled against you, his small fingers clasping yours as you hummed a soft lullaby. The fire crackled softly nearby, its warm glow casting flickering shadows. Agatha sat a short distance away, her piercing eyes scanning the horizon. Even in these quiet moments, her vigilance never wavered. She wasn’t just protecting you and Nicky—she was a predator, honed and fierce, her magic thrumming with the energy she had stolen from others. You knew this because you had pieced it together over the years, even if she had never told you.

“Mummy,” Nicky mumbled, his voice muffled as he burrowed against your side, “do you think the stars are watching us?”

You smiled faintly, brushing a strand of dark hair from his forehead. “Maybe, sweetheart,” you said softly. “Maybe they’re watching and keeping us safe.”

He shifted slightly, his bright eyes glancing toward Agatha. “What about you, Mum? Do you think the stars are magic?”

Agatha’s expression softened, and a rare smile touched her lips. “The stars?” she repeated, her tone lighter than usual. “Oh, they’re magic, alright. But they can’t compare to you, my little star.”

Nicky giggled, his laughter warm and unguarded, as he buried his face against you. “I’m not magic, Mum.”

Agatha smirked as she stood, dusting off her hands. “Not yet,” she teased, though her tone carried a seriousness that made your chest tighten.

You glanced at her, smiling softly as you stroked Nicky’s hair. “As long as he’s safe,” you said quietly, “and if one day he can help people who need it… that would be my dream.”

Agatha turned to look at you, her blue eyes flickering with something unreadable before she returned her gaze to the horizon. She didn’t respond, and the silence that followed felt heavier than it should have.

Nicky’s breathing slowed as he drifted into sleep, his small hand relaxing in yours. You stared at his peaceful face, your heart twisting at the sight. There were moments when you saw so much of yourself and Agatha in him—his determination, his sharpness, his playful nature. But then there was his smile, that radiant, mischievous grin that was pure Rio. It was a bittersweet reminder of the love you’d shared and the loss that still haunted you.

You looked at Agatha as she stood watch, her silhouette framed by the firelight. You knew what she had done—the lives she had taken, the sacrifices she had made to keep you alive. You knew because of the way she avoided your eyes after her “trips,” the faint hum of power clinging to her like an echo of her deeds. But you didn’t say anything. How could you? She had done it for you, for Nicky, and the weight of that truth sat like a stone in your chest.

The fire crackled softly, the night air cool against your skin. You leaned down to kiss Nicky’s forehead, your voice a soft whisper. “You’ll grow up safe, my love,” you murmured. “You’ll grow up to help people, to make the world better.”

Agatha turned slightly as though sensing your words. Her blue eyes flickered in the firelight, but she didn’t speak, and you didn’t meet her gaze.

Instead, you rested your cheek against Nicky’s soft curls, letting the silence stretch between you and Agatha. You carried the knowledge of her actions alone, blaming yourself for the path she had taken. If you had been stronger, if you hadn’t needed saving, maybe she wouldn’t have become a killer. Maybe Rio wouldn’t have left. Maybe your family wouldn’t feel so fractured, even in such moments.

You tightened your hold on Nicky as if to ward off the weight of your thoughts. The stars twinkled above, indifferent to your struggles, and the fire crackled softly at your feet. You closed your eyes, letting the night’s quiet lull you into a fragile peace.

But as the night deepened and the fire burned low, your thoughts turned darker. You couldn’t let this continue. Agatha carried the weight of her actions for you, and the love that drove her to do so was breaking her. You couldn’t stand to watch her bear that burden any longer.

Your jaw tightened, your resolve solidifying. It was time to end this. Agatha had fought long enough and sacrificed too much. You owed her more than just gratitude. You owed her freedom—from the guilt, the killing, the endless hunt.

You stroked Nicky’s hair one last time, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. As you stared into the embers of the dying fire, your heart ached with the enormity of what you would have to do.

It’s time, you thought to yourself. Time to end this and free her from the burden.

The night was unnervingly quiet, the kind of silence that pressed heavily on your ears and amplified the flicker of dying embers. You sat near the fire, your fingers tracing absent patterns on the soft blanket draped over your legs. Nicky was fast asleep in the tent behind you, his small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. His peaceful slumber was a reminder of innocence untouched by the turmoil surrounding your family. He had your resilience, Agatha’s sharpness, and—painfully—Rio’s depth, a complexity he carried in his quiet moments and, most strikingly, in his radiant smile.

Agatha was away for the night, having gone to a nearby town to gather supplies. Before leaving, she had lingered, her eyes scanning the perimeter as she conjured a powerful magical shield around the campsite. “Nothing gets in,” she’d said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. “You and Nicky are safe.”

You had nodded, offering her a faint smile as she reluctantly departed, though the unease in your chest lingered. Even with Agatha’s magic protecting you, the absence of her presence felt like a vulnerability you couldn’t shake. Tonight, that vulnerability sharpened, your senses pricking as the air shifted.

It was faint but unmistakable—a presence, cold and familiar, brushing against your awareness like an unseen hand.

“Rio,” you said softly, your voice trembling slightly. You didn’t need to look. You knew she was there.

From the shadows, she emerged, her figure cloaked in an ethereal shimmer. The faint moonlight caught her dark eyes, making them glint like polished onyx as she stepped closer. She looked just as you remembered—beautiful, commanding, hauntingly familiar. Yet now, she carried something else: an aura of power that was both awe-inspiring and deeply unsettling. She was Death, and she was here for you.

“You always know when I’m near,” Rio murmured, her voice low and melodic, resonating with a weight that tugged at your soul.

You exhaled shakily, turning to meet her gaze. “How could I not?” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “You’re a part of me, Rio. You always have been.”

Rio’s lips pressed into a thin line as she stepped closer, her movements deliberate. The firelight flickered across her sharp features, casting her face in a blend of light and shadow. “It’s been years,” she said softly, her voice carrying a mix of grief and regret. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

“You left,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “You walked away when I needed you most.”

Rio flinched, her gaze faltering briefly before returning to yours. “You were dying,” she said quietly. “And I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stand to watch her sacrifice everything for you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you shook your head. “She’s destroying herself,” you whispered. “Killing witches, taking their power, becoming someone I barely recognise. All for me.”

Rio’s jaw tightened, her shoulders squaring. “I warned her. There’s always a price.”

“And what about me?” you asked, your voice trembling. “What’s my price, Rio? To watch her turn into this? To let Nicky grow up with a mother consumed by darkness?”

Rio knelt in front of you, her movements slow and deliberate. Her hand hovered near your cheek, trembling slightly, but she didn’t touch you. “You know what you’re asking,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Take me,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “If that’s what it takes to save her, to save Nicky, then take me.”

Rio’s dark eyes narrowed, her brow furrowing deeply as her voice hardened. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

“Yes, I do,” you said firmly, your voice steadier now. “You’re Death, Rio. You can end this. You can give her peace. You can give Nicky a mother who’s still herself, not someone breaking under the weight of everything she’s done.”

Rio rose abruptly, her figure towering over you as her cloak of shadows shifted and swirled. “You think it’s that simple? That taking you will fix everything?”

You stood too, squaring your shoulders despite the trembling in your frame. “I don’t care if it doesn’t fix everything,” you said fiercely. “I just want it to stop. I want her to stop hurting herself. I want Nicky to have the mother he deserves.”

Rio’s gaze softened, but her voice remained firm. “And what about you? Do you think Agatha will survive losing you?”

You hesitated, your throat tightening as you glanced toward the tent where Nicky slept. “She’ll survive,” you said softly, tears spilling freely now. “She’ll survive because Nicky needs her. She’ll hate you for it, but she’ll survive. For him.”

Rio’s silence stretched unbearably between you, her dark eyes flickering with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, trembling faintly. “You’re asking me to do what I couldn’t before.”

“I’m asking you to save her,” you said, stepping closer to her. “Please.”

Rio’s hands trembled as she reached out again, this time cupping your face with a gentleness that made your chest ache. Her cold touch sent a shiver through you, but it wasn’t fear—it was grief, love, and finality all woven into one. “F/N,” she murmured.

For a moment, she hesitated, her dark eyes searching yours. Then, with a trembling breath, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to hers. The kiss was desperate and tender, filled with all the things you couldn’t say. It was both an ending and a beginning, a goodbye and a promise.

When you pulled back, your forehead rested against hers as you whispered, “Please. End this.”

Rio closed her eyes, her breath trembling against your skin. “I love you,” she murmured, her voice breaking. Then, in a movement so swift and gentle it felt like a dream, her arms wrapped around you, pulling you into an embrace as the world faded.

The fire’s glow dimmed, and the stars above blurred into nothingness. All that remained was the sensation of Rio’s cold lips brushing against your forehead one last time, and the weight of her love and sorrow as she carried you away.

The dawn broke the light yet to be touching the forest. Agatha stirred, her body weary from the journey to the nearby town. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she imagined Nicky’s excitement when she returned with the small treats he had begged for. She turned over, expecting to find F/N resting beside her, warm and safe.

“F/N,” Agatha murmured softly, reaching out. Her fingers brushed against the cool fabric of the blanket draped over F/N’s sleeping form. Something about the stillness of her body made Agatha’s stomach twist.

“F/N?” Agatha’s voice sharpened, her eyes flying open as she sat up, leaning closer. Her hand cupped F/N’s cheek, and the icy chill of her skin sent a jolt through her chest.

“No. No, no, no.” Her voice cracked, panic gripping her as she shook F/N gently at first, then more forcefully. “Wake up, doll. Please, wake up.”

But F/N didn’t move. Her body remained lifeless, her serene face untouched by the pain that now tore through Agatha. Her lips still carried the faintest hint of a smile, as if she had left in peace. It was a look that should have comforted Agatha, but it only shattered her further.

Nicky stirred in his bedroll nearby, his small murmurs pulling Agatha momentarily back to the present. She glanced at him, her heart pounding as if hoping against reason that this was some kind of nightmare. But when her gaze returned to F/N, reality hit with the force of a tidal wave.

She leaned over F/N, her hands trembling as she whispered desperate words, magic crackling faintly at her fingertips. She tried everything—spells, incantations, pouring what energy she could into F/N’s unresponsive form. But no amount of magic could undo what had already been done.

And then she felt it.

Her head snapped up, her icy eyes locking on the treeline in the distance. A shimmer of movement caught her attention, and she stood abruptly, her body trembling with rage and grief.

Rio.

The figure stepped into view, her form cloaked in shadows, her dark eyes glinting with an emotion that Death rarely showed—sorrow. She stood silently, her head bowing slightly as Agatha approached, her steps quick and unrelenting.

“You,” Agatha spat, her voice a venomous growl as she stormed toward Rio. Purple sparks of magic crackled at her fingertips, barely restrained as her fury boiled over. “You took her from me. You took her!”

Rio didn’t flinch. She stood her ground, her gaze heavy with emotion. “She asked me,” Rio said quietly, her voice steady but pained. “She chose this, Agatha. For you. For Nicky.”

“Don’t you dare tell me this was her choice!” Agatha screamed, her magic flaring uncontrollably around her. “She was mine, Rio! Mine to love, mine to protect! And you took her—just like you always take everything!”

Rio’s composure faltered, the weight of Agatha’s words slicing through her. “She was dying,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “Slowly. Painfully. She couldn’t bear to watch you destroy yourself, to watch Nicky lose both his mothers.”

Agatha’s magic lashed out, striking the ground near Rio, causing the earth to tremble. “And now he’s lost her anyway!” she roared. “He’s lost her, and it’s your fault!”

Rio stood motionless, her shoulders sagging under the weight of Agatha’s anger. “It’s my fault,” she admitted quietly. “But it’s also what she wanted. Her last kiss, her last breath—they were mine. She gave them to me so you could live, so Nicky could have you.”

Agatha’s knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground, her hands clawing at the dirt as a raw, animalistic sob tore from her throat. “You took her from me,” she whispered brokenly, her voice barely audible. “You took my heart.”

Rio stepped closer, her movements hesitant. She crouched beside Agatha, her hand hovering over her shoulder before finally resting there gently. “I loved her too,” Rio murmured, her voice cracking. “I always did.”

When Agatha finally returned to the tent, Nicky was awake, crouched beside F/N’s still form. His small hands rested on hers, his tiny fingers trembling as he gently shook her shoulder. His wide eyes, filled with confusion, turned to Agatha as she entered. “Mummy won’t wake up,” he said softly, his voice quivering. “Why won’t she wake up?”

Agatha’s breath caught in her throat as her heart shattered anew. She knelt beside him, her hands trembling as she pulled him into her arms. He came willingly, clutching her tightly as if she could provide the answers he sought.

“She’s gone, sweetheart,” Agatha whispered, her voice breaking as she stroked his hair. “Mummy’s gone.”

Nicky stiffened in her arms, his small sobs breaking free as he buried his face in her shoulder. Agatha held him tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, her tears falling freely as she whispered soothing words.

After a long moment, Nicky’s tearful voice broke the heavy silence. “Where did she go? Is she… gone forever?”

Agatha swallowed hard, struggling to find the words. She leaned back slightly, cupping his tear-streaked face with both hands. “She’s not gone forever, my little star,” she said softly, her blue eyes glistening. “She’s up there now, with the stars, watching over you.”

Nicky sniffled, his eyes lifting to the darkening sky outside the tent. “Like… a star?”

Agatha nodded, her lips trembling as she forced a small smile. “Yes, sweetheart. Mummy’s become the brightest star up there. She’ll always be looking down on you, protecting you, loving you, no matter where you are.”

Nicky’s gaze lingered on the sky, his sobs quieting as the weight of her words settled. “Will she ever come back?” he whispered, his voice trembling with hope.

Agatha’s chest ached, but she kept her voice gentle. “No, love,” she said, stroking his hair. “But every time you look up at the stars, you’ll see her. And she’ll always be with us in our hearts.”

Nicky nodded slowly, his small hands clutching the feather he had been holding earlier. “Do you think she’ll see me if I wave to her?”

Agatha’s tears slipped silently down her cheeks as she kissed his forehead. “I know she will, darling. She’ll see you, and she’ll be so proud of you.”

As the sun climbed higher into the sky, Agatha sat motionless, cradling Nicky as he drifted in and out of restless sleep. Her mind churned with plans, questions, and the single, searing truth that F/N was gone. The weight of her grief pressed down on her, unrelenting, as Nicky’s small body trembled against hers.

Hours passed, and as the day slipped into evening, Agatha rose silently. Her movements were stiff as she began to build a pyre, each action a painful reminder of what she was about to do. The wood creaked under her hands, and the firelight danced faintly in the distance as the stars began to appear.

When the pyre was ready, Agatha carried F/N’s body carefully from the tent, her arms trembling under the weight of love and loss. She cradled F/N as though she were still alive, her face serene, untouched by the agony that gripped Agatha’s heart. Agatha laid her atop the pyre with the same tenderness she had shown her in life, her blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Nicky stood nearby, clutching a small black feather he had found earlier. His young face was streaked with tears, and he looked at Agatha with wide, questioning eyes. She knelt beside him, brushing a tear from his cheek. “She’s with the stars now, sweetheart,” Agatha whispered, her voice soft but trembling. “She’s watching over us.”

“Will she see me?” Nicky asked, his voice quivering as he glanced at the sky.

Agatha pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Always,” she said. “She’ll see you every time you smile, every time you look up at the stars. She’ll be so proud of you.”

Nicky nodded slowly, his small hands gripping the feather tightly as Agatha rose and whispered a spell. The flames flickered to life, their glow illuminating the grief etched into her features. Nicky’s tearful gaze stayed on the fire, and he raised the feather as if offering it to the sky. Agatha stood beside him, her hand firmly holding his.

As the fire consumed the only love Agatha had ever truly known, she stood tall, her grief mingling with her resolve. She didn’t speak; there were no words for the depth of her sorrow. But as the flames burned low, she whispered into the night, “I’ll protect him, F/N. I promise.”

Together, they sat quietly as the last embers faded into ash. Nicky stared up at the darkening sky, his eyes scanning for the star Agatha had promised would now guide him. Agatha held him close, her arms wrapping tightly around his small form. Her heart ached, but there was a faint comfort in knowing that F/N’s love would always shine, forever watching over the child they had both cherished.

Somewhere, far beyond the veil, Rio watched silently. Her dark eyes glistened with unshed tears as she turned and dissolved into shadow once more.

Death moved on, as it always did. But this time, it carried the weight of a love it could never claim.

Years passed, and time softened the edges of Agatha’s pain, though it never truly faded. She and Nicky settled in a small, quiet town, far from the memories of the past. Agatha raised him with fierce love, determined to honour F/N’s sacrifice by giving Nicky the life she would have wanted for him.

Nicky grew into a strong and kind-hearted young man, his laughter a balm to Agatha’s weary soul. He inherited F/N’s quiet determination and Rio’s sharp instincts, and though he sometimes asked about his mother, Agatha always told him the truth.

“She loved you more than anything,” Agatha would say, her voice soft but steady. “She gave everything so you could live, so we could be together. She’s always with us, Nicky. In you, in me. Always.”

And sometimes, when Nicky smiled, Agatha’s chest ached with bittersweet emotion. She thought back to when you used to say his smile was Rio’s—mischievous, radiant, and full of life. And maybe you were right. But for Agatha, every time Nicky smiled, she didn’t see Rio. She saw you. She saw the warmth in your eyes, the love you poured into every moment, and the strength that had carried their family through even the darkest of times. Nicky’s smile wasn’t just Rio’s or yours—it was a blend of all the love that had created him.

In the quiet moments of the night, Agatha swore she could feel your presence—the warmth of your touch, the sound of your laughter. On those nights, she would sit outside under the stars, staring at the sky and wondering which star was yours, watching over them. It was enough to keep her going, enough to remind her that even in death, love never truly faded.

It lived on. In memory, in laughter, in Nicky’s smile.

Forever.

---RAR---

The sky stretched endlessly, painted in hues of gold and lavender, as Agatha opened her eyes. The world around her was soft, timeless, an ethereal plane that hummed with peace. She blinked, her crystal blue eyes taking in the surreal landscape. For a moment, she felt weightless, free of the burdens she’d carried for so long.

“You’re here,” Rio’s voice broke the stillness, steady and familiar. Agatha turned to find her standing there, her black hair cascading like a dark river. Her face was calm, yet her deep brown eyes carried the weight of centuries—a mix of sorrow and acceptance.

Agatha’s lips pressed into a thin line. “So, it’s done,” she said softly, no bitterness in her tone, just quiet resignation.

Rio nodded. “You lived well, Agatha. For Nicky, for yourself. For her.”

The mention of F/N sent a pang through her, though it was no longer sharp. It was more like a gentle tug, a reminder of a love that had burned brighter than anything in her life. “And now?”

Rio tilted her head, her gaze warm despite its depth. “Now, I guide you. As I do all souls.”

Agatha scoffed lightly, though there was no real bite in her voice. “Is that what you told F/N?”

Rio didn’t flinch, her expression softening. “No. She waited for you. She didn’t need my guidance. She knew exactly where she wanted to be.”

Agatha’s breath hitched, her stoic exterior faltering for a moment. “She waited?” Her voice trembled slightly.

“Always,” Rio replied simply, stepping aside and gesturing toward the horizon.

Agatha turned, and there she was.

F/N stood under a sprawling tree atop a gentle hill, her hair shining in the soft, eternal light. She was dressed simply, her form radiant, as though untouched by the years and hardships they had endured together. As Agatha stared, F/N seemed to sense her gaze and turned. A smile broke across her face—warm, familiar, and full of love.

Agatha’s legs moved before she could think, her steps quickening until she was running up the hill. Her heart thundered in her chest, her breath catching with every step. When she reached the top, F/N opened her arms without hesitation.

“Welcome home, Agatha,” F/N said softly, her voice carrying the same tender warmth it always had.

Agatha stumbled into her embrace, her arms wrapping around F/N tightly as tears streamed down her face. She clung to her as though she might vanish, but F/N held her just as firmly, grounding her.

“I’m sorry,” Agatha whispered, her voice breaking. “For everything—for failing you, for—”

“Shh,” F/N murmured, pulling back just enough to cup Agatha’s face. Her thumbs brushed away the tears as her eyes searched Agatha’s. “You didn’t fail me. You gave me everything. And now we have forever.”

Agatha closed her eyes, leaning into F/N’s touch. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the weight of guilt, pain, and loneliness lifted. She felt whole again.

A soft sound drew Agatha’s attention, and she turned to see Rio walking up the hill toward them. Her usual sharpness was tempered by something lighter—a sense of belonging. She stopped a few feet away, her gaze meeting Agatha’s briefly before shifting to F/N.

“I couldn’t stay away,” Rio said, her voice tinged with emotion. “Not anymore.”

F/N smiled warmly, extending her hand toward Rio. “We’ve been waiting for you, too.”

Rio hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, taking F/N’s hand in her own. Agatha watched as F/N guided Rio to sit with them under the tree, the three of them settling into a comfortable, familiar closeness that felt like coming home.

The breeze carried their laughter, soft and unburdened, as they spoke of everything and nothing. Nicky’s name came up often, their love for him weaving through their conversation like a golden thread. Though separated by the veil, they knew his life was their greatest legacy—a living testament to the love they had shared.

As the eternal sun warmed their skin, Agatha looked between F/N and Rio, her heart swelling with a peace she hadn’t known in years. This was home—not a place, but the people who had shaped her, loved her, and stood by her through it all.

The three of them sat together, their fingers intertwined, and for the first time, Agatha truly understood. They were together, they were whole, and they were finally at peace.

Forever.

#agatha harkness #agatha harkness x rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x rio vidal #agatha x rio #fem reader #rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x rio vidal x fem reader

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judesmoonbeauty · 8 hours ago

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Jude Jazza's "The Past Records:" The Tale of A Ruthless, Arrogant Man & A Woman Like the Moon

This is a fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

Warning: This story will be about their relationship after the main story. Caution while reading.

It’s not possible for humans to see the other side of the moon.

The moon has almost the same cycle of rotation and revolution,

It’s said, it’s because the same side is constantly facing the earth.

(But)

“Take me to the moon.”

Declared the moon-like woman named Kate, whom became my girlfriend.

She shows every side of herself so openly.

Yeah, all the time.

Kate: Attacking someone from behind on the street at night is despicable!

Kate: They’re the ones who breached the contract by devious means!

Jude: But ya were so pissed, ya pointed yer gun at ‘em ‘n beat over ‘n over.

Kate: W-well, I….felt like I needed to protect you, Jude.

Jude: Yeah, yeah, that’s great. I’ve gotta terrifyin’ girlfriend.

Kate: Did you just call me your girlfriend?

Jude: Huh, maybe yer hearin’ stuff?

Kate: You definitely said it! Say it again please!

— There are times when you get so angry that I want to laugh.

Kate: Hic…I showed an opening and almost got taken out….how pathetic

Jude: C’mon, ya gonna cry, eat or have a pity party?

Kate: …..I’ll eat.

Kate: [Sniffle]…it’s delicious….the food is delicious, Jude.

Kate: Hi-hic….I’m so glad to be alive….!

Jude: Pfft, whadda ugly lookin’ face.

— There are times when you cry so much that I want to smile.

Kate: Liam’s performance was so amazing! Everyone was glued to him.

Jude: Tell it to him, not me.

Jude: He’ll be jumpin’ with joy, but can’t say for sure.

Kate: Yeah! I’ll tell him as soon as I get back to Crown.

— There are times when you’re so happy I want to laugh.

Jude: Yer such a busy woman.

After finishing up work, I had a smoke in my room as I watched Kate.

Kate: I wonder which Mr. Company President, is keeping me so busy?

(That’s not what I’m talkin’ ‘bout. Well, it’s fine.)

Jude: Yer the masochist who wants to be with me even if it means workin’ for Crown ‘n Raven at the same time.

Kate: And once again you’re being blunt. Jude, do you know the phrase “exploitation motivation”?

Kate: Well…it’s true that I want to be with you, so it’s inevitable.

(Ha, ya didn’t even deny bein’ a masochist.)

Just as I stamped out my cigarette in the ashtray, Kate’s gaze met mine.

(What’s with those feverish eyes?)

Kate doesn’t even try to hide her love.

When she wants me, her entire body reveals her craving unconsciously.

Just as I thought, Kate is a woman who shows every side of herself openly.

That’s why —

(Oh, this’s the first I’ve seen this look.)

Her unknown expressions I’ve never seen appear one after the other.

Just as a moon that goes through phases.

Jude: Somethin’ on my face?

Kate frowned at me sharply.

Kate: ….You’re saying that, even though you know perfectly well.

Jude: Ya give me too much credit, how should I know what yer talkin’ ‘bout.

Kate: ……

(Awww, impatient, poor lil thin’)

(But poor lil you’s so cute.)

Kate: If you don’t know what I’m talking about

Kate sat down on the bed next to me,

Kate: Then I’ll tell you

She grabbed me by the collar, and pressed her lips against mine.

(…Yer desperately clingin’ to me, so I’m gonna mercilessly devour ya.)

I whisper as I bite Kate’s neck.

Jude: Hey, let’s play a game….

Kate: …Ngh, ah….a game?

Jude: The one who looks away first loses.

Kate’s eyes flicker and then she smiles.

Kate: That’s sounds interesting, alright. I don’t feel like I’ll lose.

Jude: So ya say. Then, no matter what, don’t look away, got it?

(Ya just hafta keep lookin’ at me.)

(It ain’t funny if there’s an expression of yers I dunno.)

Kate looked away, succumbing to the relentless, pleasurable torture,

And fell asleep most likely from being worn out.

Jude: ….How vulnerable.

As I played with Kate’s messy bangs, I suddenly remembered something.

Each person receives a fixed amount of happiness in their lifetime, it’s equal for everyone.

That’s right, it was written in a book somewhere.

It’s not all good, it’s not all bad, it’s all created equally.

(I won’t say somethin’ stupid like - since I met a woman named Kate, it’s equaled out.)

The past doesn’t disappear.

Grudges, feelings of resentment, this cycle of hatred will continue until I die.

I’m still a person who’s living in the depths of hell.

(But)

Kate squeezes my finger tightly as she sleeps.

Jude: …Pff-ha, whadda ya a baby?

Jude: Just how much does this woman love me?

Maybe now, I’ve finally learned the feeling of happiness.

I savored my first taste of happiness.

Next to a woman like the moon.

[Past Records Master List]

He FINALLY knows happiness!

Dividers: @.natimiles

Tags List: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger@cosmowgyrall. @lunaaka

#ikevil translations #cybird translations #ikevil jude #jude jazza #jude jazza translations #the past records

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thisischaostragic · 11 hours ago

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i have been holding space for the Agatha finale (i’m in queer media) and am pleased to report that my feelings about it have shifted quite significantly. follow me, my friends, to a more or less coherent, very long text post at the end

primary thing: this show is very much about motherhood. idk why that didn’t totally register for me in the first half given how often they mentioned Nicky, but realizing this changed my analysis a ton. Billy doesn’t just remind Agatha of Nicky — Agatha loves Billy like a son. (i know “like a son” is an oversimplification, but I’m sticking with it for this post.)

with that, my thoughts on Agatha’s arc almost completely flipped. when Rio shows up in E8 and says she has to take Billy, Agatha is revisiting her deepest wound all over again. her reaction is harsh, but it’s not some long-simmering revenge plan or a calculated effort to hurt Rio. Agatha is literally just reacting to the fact that, after all of the almost-reconciliation, the love of her life is taking her son again. i think she was trying to get Rio to fight for her or to say the trade was too high a price and bend the rules. Agatha was trying to get Death to act only as her lover, and looks devastated when Rio actually walks away instead.

and so, when Agatha goes to the morgue trial and says that “sometimes, boys die,” she’s continuing that realization that Rio isn’t personally chasing her down and causing her grief. sometimes, death just… happens. and “out of Death, life” is largely about Agatha realizing that Rio did bend the rules for Nicky, but also doubles down on the Nicky and Billy parallels. both of Agatha’s sons were literally borne of Death and living on stolen time. loss is inevitable.

i think Agatha genuinely believed that Rio could have kept Nicky alive and chose not to. we know that Agatha blamed herself for Nicky dying (“the truth is too awful”). so Agatha, who was taught by her own mother that nobody would ever actually love her for who she is, probably thought that the love of her life just… didn’t love her as much as she thought she did. going back to E1, i think “you don’t have a heart” is equal parts about Nicky as it is about Agatha herself. her main takeaway is that everyone will betray her, even when they claim to love her, and so she hides behind power and a god awful reputation so that she can keep everyone at arm’s length and never get hurt again.

ALL OF THIS IS TO SAY: when Billy is about to die, Agatha almost retreats back into the version of herself she became after Nicky died, but she doesn’t. she turns around and faces the pain head-on.

and I want to take a second to appreciate how immensely hard that would be. Agatha spent centuries killing people so she could be powerful enough to stay numb. Agatha spent all of that time pushing away the love of her life, who still loves her, who still sees her fully, and who Agatha is clearly still desperate to return to. Agatha realizes, probably to absurd amounts of despair, that she was wrong about all of it. and she still turns around.

it’s not about Agatha randomly sacrificing herself for a last minute villain kind-of-redemption. it’s about Agatha breaking the cycle she’s trapped herself in for an unfathomably long time, admitting that she knows Rio couldn’t change the outcome, and acknowledging that, yeah, she actually does love this kid.

and honestly?? i don’t think Agatha becoming a ghost counts as killing her. she’s literally still around, doing stuff, picking up brooches (👀 Rio wya), and getting a second chance at… not motherhood, exactly, but caring for a child. (and a queer child! and the idea of Agatha, who has been queer since the *1600s*, getting to tell this gay kid over and over again that there’s nothing innately wrong with him makes me actually sob.)

HOWEVER! i maintain some criticisms. i think Jen deserved to have an actual fight with the doctor who bound her. (the oops! it was Agatha All Along twist was… complicated. i have mixed feelings. essay for another day, but i wanted Jen to have rage time that everyone was just cheering for.)

i needed Death lore. how is she physically with Agatha so often if, as Agatha states, 120 people die every minute? is she Death the cosmic entity, or are green witches sort of responsible for decay on earth?

some of the plot elements were severely under-developed, and frustratingly, the vast majority of the underdeveloped plotlines had to do with Agatha/Rio’s romantic relationship, Agatha’s mother, and Agatha’s reasons for killing people. (the fact that they said she’s a siphon in interviews and not once on the show will never stop baffling me lmao.) i find it very frustrating that a LARGE chunk of the underdeveloped stuff relates back to Agatha’s queerness in some way.

however… i am willing to be generous about some of that, because i find it difficult to believe that this *extremely queer* creative team actually just disregarded major queer plot elements. i am far more inclined to believe that they were operating under a hostile corporation and pushing as far as they could, and in that case, they did a fucking phenomenal job.

i genuinely think that the way they landed the show opens the door for them to… dare I say it? … give Agatha/Rio a happy ending?? ghost Agatha literally need only show up to Rio’s house or cave or dimension or whatever and be like “heyyyyy, yeah that kiss was forgiveness and also i’m solid enough to use my hands now” and it would be believable. the fact that it would take them only 15 seconds to give us two fucked up lesbians having their version of happily ever after is actually pretty cool

anyway, this is an abridged summary of how my feelings abt the Agatha All Along finale went from like a 4/10 rating to an 8/10.

#agatha all along #agathario #agatha all along spoilers #agatha harkness #agatha x rio #rio vidal

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momentomori24 · 2 days ago

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[This has been sitting in my draft for a while lol]

When it comes to Curly's failings, I always see people bring up his obvious failure to protect Anya and him prioritising Jimmy, who was the rapist in that situation. Which is completely valid btw and we should rake him through the coals for that alone even more. But I also see too many people saying that Curly "didn't enable Jimmy" or playing softball for his actions. And I could maybe see where that comes from if that incident was the only thing we had to point to-- but that wasn't all he did, is it? Curly being indifferent or not taking Jimmy's mistreatment and belittlement of Anya seriously was hinted at so much earlier than that.

Namely, the very first time we play from Curly's point of view. Let's just skip the fact that Curly was putting everyone in danger by not taking his psych evals seriously and simply giving the same answers to pass them even tho he was shown literal minutes after this scene being clearly not-sane, and go straight to the point I actually wanna get into. Which is this:

These scenes in isolation wouldn't be that bad. From his pov, it's played off as comical and it is. Jimmy being a brony (not really lmao) and getting playfully dragged over it is funny. But unfortunately this is the first example out of many for Curly's complacency. Anya is complaining about Jimmy not taking his psych evals or her seriously, which is easy to believe considering how much he rags on her for "not being a good nurse" (she kept Curly alive on hopes and dreams how dare you). So he keeps making her do silly and inappropriate reports she clearly doesn't wanna do, which is kinda shitty (also borders on harassment). But rather than actually saying something about Jimmy's behaviour or even acknowledging how it sucks he says this:

Mate, that's not a good thing 💀 He's clearly aware that the problem is Jimmy's lack of respect for Anya specifically. He knows that if he, his friend and a man in power, were the one doing the evals Jimmy wouldn't try that disrespect. But it's Anya, a meek woman who ranks lower than him so he thinks he can get away with it (which he DOES), and Curly's shown as comfortable in knowing that. He doesn't chew Jimmy out for making Anya uncomfortable nor does he reassure her that he will do something about it. All he does is take it off her hands this once and helps Jimmy power through it to get a good diagnosis (even tho we know he's DEFINITELY not sane either). He doesn't even mention Anya's discomfort or confront him on his inappropriate behaviour, just teases Jimmy in good fun instead because he doesn't think of it as anything serious. It's subtle and pretty minor in comparison to everything else, but I think it's worth pointing out. Especially because this convo takes place after Jimmy had assaulted her, which makes this so much worse.

If you need any more evidence of Curly being an enabler you need not look further than Anya herself. And I'm not just talking about the way he failed her here-- I'm talking about Anya's own view of Curly and the way said view influences her actions.

Just look at her choice of wording. "What would you have done". This is in response to him saying that she could've come to him if she were feeling stressed, which she-- in his eyes-- didn't. The question itself implies that she had no faith in Curly to actually help despite his insistence that he would've, which I think is significant because it shows that she's very much aware of Curly's shortcomings when it comes to her situation AND it's one of the first (or the first time) she actually verbalised her lack of trust towards him or anyone directly. Prior to this scene she had told him about her rape and the rapist, presumably because she trusted him to handle it. And he dismissed her because the rapist was his best friend, and that evidently deeply scarred her. Enough so that she secretly took the gun and hid it someplace else and didn't even tell Curly were that was, because she knows that if Curly has access to it there's a so much greater chance Jimmy will have too, insinuated by the line "the least I can do is make sure he never gets it either". Speaking about the gun:

It sucks so bad that this perception of him isn't even inaccurate nor unjustified. That despite everything Jimmy had done to her and everything he could still do to her, he'd very likely still not allow her access to the gun for protection. Because that's exactly what he didn't do anyway. He didn't attempt to keep her safe from Jimmy, instead he just pretended that nothing was wrong and still let Jimmy's belittlement of her pass. He didn't give her the gun after the incident, because she wouldn't have hid the case if he had. Despite his desperate reassurance that he'd do anything, he did nothing but make it worse for her and she KNOWS that. It's so frustrating knowing he entrusted the axe to Swansea when he needed it but not the gun to Anya when she needed it too. Also this:

The fact that his knee-jerk reaction to her admitting that she's pregnant was "Who would you--" is so fucked, especially considering she's already told him what happened. "Who would you" what? Who would you fuck? Who would you have sex with? That choice of wording drives me up a wall-- SHE wouldn't and didn't do anything or anyone. That was JIMMY. The potential sentence implies that she had any choice or agency in her pregnancy. She didn't. And the fact that Curly had to ask "who" insinuates that he's been putting Jimmy's action out of sight and out of mind the whole time, choosing to not think about them or what happened to Anya at all. And considering he still made her do Jimmy's evaluations despite being able to do them himself and literally didn't even think of making sure she gets psych evals done too--especially AFTER getting sexually assaulted--that might actually be the case (I haven't seen anyone make a stink about that piece of info so I'm going to because what kinda colossal fuck up IS that??).

I vaguely had a post like this in mind but seeing so many people be like "well Anya did some wrong stuff too like leaving Curly alone with Jimmy but you don't get mad at HER for that so why is Curly not doing anything about Jimmy being alone with Anya so different??" actually makes me want to blow some people up. Jimmy's an abuser, sure, but Anya has no real reason to believe that he'd actually harm Curly. From her perspective, they were close, close enough that Curly would not only let Jimmy continuously disrespect her but also get away with assaulting her too. That, and she knows that Jimmy was closer to Curly than anyone and more likely to be civil around him than he ever was to her. She has barely any reasons to suspect Jimmy would harm Curly when they're alone. Curly, on the other hand, has every fucking reason on the planet to think Jimmy would harm her when they're alone. He knows he raped her (likely in her room at night too). He knows that he sexually harasses her. He knows that he doesn't respect her at all. And that was BEFORE the crash. Anya tried insisting on giving Curly his medicine, only for Jimmy to keep aggressively insisting that he'll take care of it despite her protests. Curly didn't try to keep them separate at all even though he was the Captain and had the power to do so. And this should go without saying, but leaving your rapist alone with his best friend that he was close to and enabled/protected him and leaving your friend alone with the woman he raped (and might have repeatedly assaulted given his free access to her) is NOT THE SAME and I'm going to start chucking some people down a waterfall because what the fuck is that argument 💀 Actually leave it to the fandom of the game where the rape of a woman is the catalyst for the events that unfold to use her trauma to defend the guy that enabled it in the first place. Bloody hell.

The reason why this whole Curly discourse pisses me off is because it-- from what I can see-- ONLY brings up his failures 1-0 days before the crash and the Dead Pixel scene (or all the discussion around other points are drowned out by those two). Those scenes, while important to talk about, are not the only things he's done, and focussing on those as the only things is a mistake that comes short of understanding the issue. When it comes to Curly the main defences I see for him are "he was trying not to escalate the situation" and "he was trying to keep things under control the best he can" and "he was waiting for the right time to help Anya", but those don't work when you look at the bigger picture of everything he's done.

He half-assed through his psych eval despite clearly not being sane (and KNOWING he's barely sane, he literally admits it to Jimmy's face). He still continued to task her with Jimmy's psych evals. He brushed over Jimmy's sexual harassment of her as a joke. He didn't think about making sure she got psych evals done herself after being raped. He gave Swansea the axe but didn't give Anya the gun despite it being for "unrest amongst the crew" (whatever the hell THAT means). He let her assault slip his mind that she had to remind him. He's literally a blond man. He took no action to hold Jimmy responsible for anything, and prioritised how his violation of Anya would affect him rather than her. He ignored her demands for him to get rid of Jimmy. He still allowed Jimmy free reign of the ship as co-pilot even after he was openly fantasising about killing everyone and had a major motive and the means to do just that. He was potentially thinking of making her miscarry to cover up what happened. He was so accustomed to her sucking up being disrespected and disturbed that he didn't even notice a difference in her behaviour until she hid the fucking gun. There's so much other shit he's done and hasn't done, and not talking about them or glossing over them makes it so easy for people to argue that he isn't actually an enabler or just minimise the severity of his neglect.

And while I'm already dragging Curly through the mud, I might as well just drag Swansea too. I've seen too many people being like "Anya should've told Swansea instead" and "Swansea was the one that actually took responsibility". Like, y'all realise he's not that much better than Curly, right? He already knew about what happened to Anya-- he admits it to Jimmy's face-- but he didn't do shit. He knew, but he still got completely shitfaced for months despite her earlier protestation to that (for very understandable reasons). He knew, but he still let Jimmy have the axe AND be alone with Anya while having it. He knew, but when Anya locked herself in the Medical and Daisuke and Jimmy asked for his help he didn't budge nor really showed any care. He knew, but the reason he finally decided to do something about Jimmy wasn't Anya, it was Daisuke. Her suffering and her eventual death weren't enough for him to take action either.

This game, on top of everything else, is a great depiction of rape culture. It doesn't just include the rapists, but the people (mostly men) that stay silent, do nothing, make excuses for and protect the perpetrator for whatever reason, and Swansea and Curly (Curly way more so than Swansea) are both active contributors to the environment that allowed for evil to flourish and continue unhindered until it destroyed them all. And while that arguably doesn't make them evil themselves or as bad as Jimmy, they are so much more a part of the bigger problem than the fandom likes to admit.

[Ok since this is kinda gaining a bit of traction please consider helping these guys out here, here and here. Thanks!]

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #curly mouthwashing #captain curly #anya mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #do not come for me curly fans i'm one of y'all i promise. kinda #if i had a nickle for every time i made a post dragging a blond man i'd have three #which isn't a lot now but that number will likely increase in the future lmao #seriously tho i'm so sick of seeing people be all “there's no evidence that he's an enabler” and “he did all he could” like screw you guys #the point of the whole story is that his inaction is what allowed for everything to happen #that his willingness to do nothing put him in a state where he can only watch the horrors without being able to do anything if he wanted to #it's about TWO captains who kept going on about taking responsibility and did anything BUT that #he's not as horrible as jimmy obviously but he doesn't need to be to do damage and be awful #you know what i very well may just be a lot meaner and uncharitable to him than i should be here #but i guess tumblr can be the judge of that. i still rest my case. now time to continue avoiding curly discourse like usual XD #normally i wouldn't care enough to make a post about the way the fandom treats him because it's nothing unique or anything #but something about this game and him being blond specifically made me unable to resist. i just can't be nice to him for that alone #pardon the typos i whipped this up in a hurry and am too lazy to go over everything right now #momento rambles

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insomniac4000 · 2 days ago

Text

Three Peaks-ChrisMD

I had to write this after the video yesterday despite having some requests still in and writing a Charity match fic....

The brisk morning air bit at Chris’s cheeks as he tightened the straps on his hiking backpack. Standing in the shadow of Ben Nevis, the highest peak in Scotland, the mountain loomed like a gray giant, its summit lost in a wisp of cloud. Chris had his hands clasped in front of him as he always did when he did the introductions to his video, addressing the camera ready to capture the beginning of what he hoped would be one of his second channel’s most ambitious videos yet. He was slightly nervous as it was a shift from his usual football content.

“Alright, lads and lady,” Chris called, spinning to face the group with his usual boyish grin. “Let’s get the obligatory intro out of the way before we regret ever agreeing to this.”

“That’s just every ChrisMD video ever,” ArthurTV clapped back causing laughs and jeers from the group, the group being; Harry Lewis who had already taken the role of morale officer, cracking jokes about the group’s preparedness—or lack thereof. Arthur Hill, visibly unsure about what he’d signed up for, leaned heavily on his walking poles, a sheepish smile on his face. ArthurTV and George Clarkeey exchanged knowing glances, already anticipating chaos. ReevHD was characteristically quiet, scanning the trail ahead with determination like he did with every challenge.

And then there was Y/n.

Chris tried not to let his gaze linger on her, but it was impossible not to notice how effortlessly she seemed to fit into the moment. At 5'2", she was dwarfed by the towering peaks around them, but her petite frame radiated confidence. Her auburn curls were tied up in a high pony tail but already a slight bit of frizz was poking out from the tie, showing her imperfections she embarced and her hazel eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and mischief.

“Ready to prove short people can climb mountains too?” Y/n teased, catching Chris’s eye.

“Short people?” Harry cut in with mock horror. “You and Chris barely make one normal-sized person!”

The others burst into laughter as Chris groaned. “Here we go,” he muttered, though he couldn’t help but smile.

“Team Hobbit in full force,” George added, slinging an arm around Chris’s shoulders. “Shire squad, reporting for duty.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but played along, giving Chris a playful nudge. “Come on, Frodo, let’s show them how it’s done.”

The group set off, their boots crunching against the ground. The first leg of the journey was deceptively easy, winding through forests and open meadows. Chris found himself falling into step beside Y/n, their conversation flowing as naturally as the babbling brooks they passed.

“This should be a doddle for you considering your videos,” Chris said, stealing a sideways glance at her. “Any near-death experiences you haven’t told me about yet?”

Y/n chuckled, adjusting her backpack. “Oh, plenty. But I’ll save those stories for when we’re at the summit. You know, motivation to keep climbing.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Chris replied, his smile lingering.

Behind them, Harry and George were already trying to outpace each other, their competitive streaks on full display. Arthur Hill lagged slightly, his breath coming in short gasps.

“You alright back there, Arthur?” Reev called, slowing his pace to check on him.

“Still alive,” Arthur wheezed, earning a round of good-natured laughs.

As the group ascended, the trail grew steeper and more rugged, rocks jutted out at awkward angles.Y/n, used to navigating tricky terrain from her travels, moved with practiced ease, her short legs propelling her upward with surprising speed.

“Alright, we get it,” George said, feigning exasperation as Y/n waited for the rest of them at a particularly steep section. “You’re secretly a mountain goat.”

“Just embrace your inner hobbit,” Y/n shot back, grinning.

“Speaking of hobbits,” Harry said, glancing at Chris, “you keeping up, mate? Or do we need to carry you?”

“Funny,” Chris replied, though he was grateful for the excuse to slow his pace. Y/n waited for him, her expression softening.

“You’re doing great,” she said quietly, her voice carrying only to him.

Chris felt his chest tighten, but he pushed the feeling aside. “Thanks,” he managed, giving her a small smile.

By the time they reached the halfway point, the group was a mix of exhilaration and exhaustion. They paused to refuel, pulling out energy bars and water bottles. The wind whipped around them, colder and more insistent as they climbed higher.

Arthur Hill collapsed onto a rock, his face red but determined. “This is... definitely harder than I thought,” he admitted between gulps of water.

“You’re doing better than I expected,” Y/n encouraged, earning a grateful smile from him.

The teasing eased for a while as the group focused on the gruelling climb. The summit felt tantalizingly close yet maddeningly out of reach as the trail grew steeper and the air thinner. Y/n took the lead, her smaller frame navigating the rocky terrain with agility that left the others scrambling to keep up.

Chris stayed close behind her, his own shorter stature making the climb a little easier compared to the taller guys, who were visibly struggling.

“Bet you’re glad to have another hobbit around now,” Y/n teased over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed from the cold and exertion.

Chris laughed, shaking his head. “Never thought I’d say this, but yeah, maybe it’s not so bad.”

The summit finally came into view, on a good day it probably would have been an incredible view but the British weather was typical and as the group had looked out all they could see was fog. Still though, this was the tallest peak and they were at the top.

“We did it!” Harry yelled, throwing his arms in the air.

Y/n grinned, pulling out her camera to capture the moment. She turned it toward Chris, who was leaning on his trekking pole, looking both exhilarated and exhausted.

“How does it feel to conquer peak one?” she asked, the camera trained on him.

“Cold,” Chris deadpanned, earning a laugh from the group.

They spent a few precious minutes taking in the view, snapping photos, and catching their breath. But the celebration was short-lived as Chris checked his watch.

“We’re behind schedule,” he announced, his tone regretful. “We’ve got to get moving if we’re going to stay on track.”

As they began their descent, the mood remained light despite the ticking clock. The banter continued, with the group teasing Arthur Hill for his earlier struggles and Chris and Y/n for their so-called “hobbit couple” status.

Chris found himself walking beside Y/n again, their shoulders brushing as they navigated the narrow trail.

“Think we’ll survive the next two peaks?” he asked, his tone half-joking.

Y/n glanced at him, her hazel eyes warm. “If you stick with me, Frodo, I think we’ll be alright.”

Chris felt a flicker of hope, small but persistent, that maybe, just maybe, this challenge would lead to more than just a great video.

As the group reached the base of Ben Nevis and prepared to drive to Scafell Pike, the teasing continued, but so did the camaraderie. And for Chris, the chemistry he felt with Y/n was becoming harder to ignore.

Chris adjusted the camera, framing himself in the shadow of Scafell Pike, the tallest mountain in England. The crisp afternoon sunlight bathed the rolling hills of the Lake District, a stark contrast to the biting wind they had endured on Ben Nevis.

"Alright, peak two," Chris’s voiceover rang out. “Quick update: we’ve just finished a very cosy van ride—by cosy, I mean crammed—with practically no leg room. But that wasn’t a problem for two of the members of the group.”

The screen then filled with a picture of Chris and Y/n squeezed into a corner of the van, her head resting sleepily on his shoulder while they both grinned. Their legs, stretched toward the camera, showed just how much space the pair had, still having some room to swing their smaller legs, in stark contrast to the rest of the group.

The video then continued and now it showed the group gathered around, fastening their jackets and strapping on their backpacks. Harry stretched dramatically, groaning about his sore legs, while George filmed Arthur Hill struggling to zip his jacket.

"You alright there, mate?" George teased.

"Not really," Arthur Hill admitted, but his grin betrayed his determination to keep going.

As they started the climb, the monumental task settled on everyone once again, time was ticking away from them. The steep incline and rocky path demanded focus, and the chatter from the Ben Nevis climb faded into heavy breaths and occasional bursts of laughter. Y/n, as usual, took the lead, her smaller frame navigating the terrain with ease. Chris stuck close to her, their steps often falling into sync.

It wasn’t long until Arthur Hill faltered, wincing as he leaned against his trekking pole.

"Hold up," Reev called, motioning for the group to stop. "Arthur, you good?"

Arthur shook his head. "I’ve got an old injury and it was worse yesterday, I work up this morning thinking that I was okay but it’s really not good at all,” the musician whined a little, he was well aware he was the one who was slowing everyone down and he was in a considering amount of pain now too.

The group exchanged concerned glances.

"Are you going to sit this one out?" Chris said gently, resting a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur hesitated, his face a mix of frustration and relief. "Yeah, I think I have to."

They helped him set up a small camp just off the path, ensuring he had water, snacks, and a comfortable spot to rest.

"Don’t worry about me," Arthur said, waving them off. "I’ll cheer you on from here. Just make sure to take loads of embarrassing photos for me to miss out on."

With a final round of reassurances, the group continued upward, joking at Arthur’s position as he laid still on the grass by a rock. As the group continued the summit grew closer with every step. Chris felt his chest tighten, but this time it wasn’t just the exertion.

His parents were waiting at the top.

They had moved to the Lake District from Jersey recently, and while he loved seeing them, introducing them to his friends—especially Y/n—brought a mix of excitement and nerves.

As they reached the peak George and ArthurTV tried to lighten the mood and keep morale up by making jokes about Chris’s mother.

When the group finally crested the summit, they were greeted by Chris’s mum and dad, both bundled in warm coats and waving enthusiastically.

Harry and ArthurTV greeted Chris’s parents like old friends, their laughter and inside jokes echoing across the mountaintop. Y/n, however, hung back, fidgeting with her gloves wondering why she felt so nervous, Chris was only a friend.

Chris noticed and leaned closer to her. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Y/n said quickly, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I just… don’t want to make a bad impression."

Chris chuckled. "You’ve got nothing to worry about. They’ll love you."

As if to prove his point, his mum approached Y/n with open arms. "You must be Y/n," she said warmly. "Chris has told us so much about you."

Y/n’s cheeks flushed, but she returned the hug. "All good things, I hope."

"Of course," Chris’s mum replied with a wink.

To Y/n’s relief, the conversation flowed naturally. She found herself laughing with Chris’s parents, sharing stories about her travels and listening to tales from their new life in the Lake District.

"You’ve got a good group here," Chris’s dad said, clapping him on the back.

"The best," Chris agreed, his gaze flicking to Y/n.

After a round of photos and a quick snack break, they began their descent. The steep path required concentration, but Chris took the opportunity to start a conversation he’d been mulling over for weeks.

The voiceover took over again, this time the tone changing to a more serious one as Chris explained he wanted to do more videos talking about mental health he explained his struggles with anxiety for years, ruminating thoughts, intrusive stuff but also what had helped him try and get through it so he was now in a much better place. One by one he spoke to each of his friends about mental health, opening up to each other and it was a change of pace from their usual jokes and banter.

Y/n was someone who had also been very opened about her mental health and their conversation could have lasted for days.

Y/n, walking beside Chris, glanced at him thoughtfully. "How different is it for men, though?" she asked. "I mean, society’s expectations and all that."

Chris paused, considering her question. "It’s hard. There’s this pressure to be… strong, or like, unemotional. But that’s changing. Slowly. What about you? You’ve been really open about your journey, haven’t you?"

Y/n nodded, adjusting her grip on her trekking pole. "I try to be. It’s not easy, though. There’s still so much stigma. But I think the more we talk about it, the more we help people feel less alone."

Chris smiled at her. "You’ve helped me, you know. Just by being so honest."

Y/n’s cheeks turned pink, and she looked away. "You’ve helped me too."

Their conversation was interrupted when Y/n’s foot slipped on a loose rock. She gasped, her arms flailing, but Chris caught her hand just in time.

"You alright?" he asked, steadying her.

"Yeah, just my dignity taking a hit," she said, laughing as she regained her balance.

Chris didn’t let go of her hand right away, and when he did, it was with a lingering warmth that neither of them acknowledged.

The rest of the descent was filled with lighter conversations, the group joking about their shared exhaustion and Arthur Hill’s missed summit.

As they reached the base of Scafell Pike, Chris felt a renewed sense of purpose. Two peaks down, one to go. They had decided that twenty four hours was now long gone but they were going to enjoy the journey for what it is.

The glow of determination fueled the group as they loaded into the van, but the energy from the morning had shifted. Arthur Hill, sitting on a bench with his leg propped up and wrapped in a bandage, waved them off with Harry by his side.

"Be safe!" Arthur called. "And don’t forget to take a victory photo at the top of Snowdon—preferably one where Jamie doesn’t look like he’s about to pass out!"

Jamie, who had also been struggling a little shot him a mock glare.

With the group a little smaller now, the drive to Snowdonia was quieter. Chris glanced back at Y/n, who had claimed the backseat corner. Her head leaned against the window, her auburn curls falling softly over her face as she watched the scenery blur into darkness.

“You alright back there, Y/n?” Chris asked, his voice low.

She turned and smiled, though it was softer than usual. “Yeah, just thinking about how this’ll feel tomorrow when my legs refuse to work.”

The van erupted into knowing laughter.

“This isn’t about the time,” Chris said as they stretched at the base of the mountain, the cold night air biting at their exposed skin. “It’s about finishing what we started.”

Y/n gave him an approving nod. “That’s what it’s all about. Let’s do it.”

The climb up Snowdon was quieter than the others, the fatigue settling deep in their muscles. The darkness added a layer of challenge, with headlamps and flashlights casting eerie shadows across the rocky path.

“Watch your step,” Reev warned as they navigated a narrow ridge.

There were a few stumbles—George slipping onto his hands and knees, ArthurTV catching himself on a low rock—but no injuries. Every so often, the group paused, catching their breath and sipping water, their chatter growing lighter with every stop.

At last, the summit came into view. The cold wind whipped around them as they reached the peak, and for a moment, no one said a word.

Then Reev broke the silence. “We actually did it.”

“Almost,” Chris corrected. “We still have to get down.”

“Oh, don’t ruin the moment,” Y/n teased, nudging him lightly.

The group broke into hugs, laughing through their exhaustion as they celebrated. Chris lingered in Y/n’s embrace, feeling the warmth of her against the cold air.

Someone snapped a photo, capturing their silhouettes against the starry sky.

The descent was slow and careful especially as night was falling now and torches were failing. The rocks, slick with evening dew, made each step treacherous. Y/n stuck close to Chris, their headlamps bobbing in unison as they navigated the terrain.

“I don’t know how you talked me into this,” Y/n joked, her voice hushed in the quiet of the night.

“You’re the challenge queen,” Chris replied. “I thought this would be your idea of fun.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I usually have better planning, fewer risks of breaking an ankle in the dark.”

Chris smiled but noticed her pensive expression. “You okay?”

Y/n hesitated before answering. “Yeah. I just… I’ve been thinking a lot on this trip. About where I’m going, what I want. It’s hard not to when you’re staring down mountains, you know?”

“I get that,” Chris said, his voice thoughtful. “Climbing a mountain does have a way of putting things in perspective.”

They walked in silence for a moment before Y/n continued. “I’ve been doing YouTube for over a decade. I love it, but sometimes I wonder if I’m just… running away from things by traveling so much. Like, maybe if I stop, I’ll have to face everything I’ve been avoiding.”

Chris’s chest tightened at her honesty. “I don’t think you’re running away,” he said softly. “I think you’re just searching for what makes you happy. And that’s not a bad thing.”

Y/n looked at him, her hazel eyes reflecting the beam of his headlamp. “You really think that?”

“Yeah, I do,” Chris replied. “You’ve inspired so many people—including me. You’ve got this way of making even the toughest situations seem like an adventure.”

Y/n smiled, a genuine, heartfelt expression that made Chris’s stomach flip. “Thanks, Chris. That means a lot.”

They walked a little further before Y/n asked, “What about you? What are you searching for?”

Chris exhaled, his breath visible in the cold air. “Honestly? I’m not sure. I’ve spent so much time focusing on work, on videos, that I’ve kind of lost sight of what’s next. But being here, with you guys, it reminds me of what’s important. It’s not just about the videos or the views—it’s about the connections we make along the way.”

Y/n reached out, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “That’s a good answer.”

Chris chuckled, his heart racing at the contact. “Glad you approve.”

As they continued down the mountain, Chris couldn’t help but glance at Y/n every so often. She looked tired but content, her curls glowing faintly in the moonlight. Chris couldn’t help but think this trip was very special for a multitude for reasons.

In the comments, viewers had plenty to say.

“Y/n and Chris definitely have something going on. The chemistry is undeniable!” “Chris catching Y/n when she slipped? Literal couple goals.” “The ‘hobbit couple’ strikes again! Just admit you’re perfect for each other already.” “Loved the mental health chat. So important to hear men like Chris opening up. Thanks for this, mate.”

Chris scrolled through the comments later that night, a smile tugging at his lips. He glanced at his phone, debating whether to message Y/n.

Before he could decide, his phone buzzed with a message from her.

Y/n: “Can’t believe we actually did it. Thanks for being my rock on the trip. (Haha get it?) 😊”

Chris grinned, his fingers hovering over the keyboard before typing a response.

Chris: “That was awful, but really couldn’t have done it without you. Hobbit squad for life. 🏔️”

Chris bit his lip as he then typed out the message “Dinner?” three times before deleting it each time. Something had changed in him one day but was he ready for another challenge?

#chrismd #chris dixon #chrismd x reader #chris michael dixon

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