#she tried to do this and lost all of it. everything she'd been through and everything she became‚ even before the metacrisis. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cloudtransprncy · 17 days ago

Text

Tease

Chaewon x Male Reader | 8k words Tags: manager x idol, secret relationship, pent up, semi-public, sneaking away, horny as fuck, chaewon is hot as fuck, I wish it was me

Chaewon looks too good in that dress. Three weeks without sex. How long before you snap?

Jus sumn quick for yall.

Chaewon [1:42 AM]: I've been touching myself thinking about you every night this week. It's not enough.

Chaewon [1:43 AM]: Good luck keeping it professional tomorrow when you see what they have me wearing for the HOT trailer shoot 😈

You stare at your phone, heat flooding through your body. Three weeks without her. The longest you've gone since you started dating a year ago.

Fuck, she knows exactly what she's doing to you.

Three weeks without her touch has made every message like this a form of exquisite torture. You can practically hear her voice in your head as you read her texts.

You're dating Kim Chaewon. LE SSERAFIM's leader. And you're one of their managers.

It started on a company retreat last spring—a late-night conversation about music that turned into coffee, then dinner a week later, then her pressed against your apartment door, whispering that she'd wanted this since the moment you'd been assigned to their team.

You'd both agreed it would be just once.

That agreement lasted approximately 8 hours.

No one knows. Not the company. Not the members.

Not even Jiyeon, the other manager who works with you handling the girls' schedules.

And right now, your girlfriend is driving you fucking crazy.

The comeback prep for "HOT" has been exactly that—hot, intense, and keeping you both so busy you can barely catch your breath, let alone sneak away to be alone together.

You've tried everything to deal with the frustration. Late-night FaceTiming while she touches herself in her dorm room, biting her pillow to stay quiet. Watching the videos you've made together—her riding you on your couch, her bent over your bathroom sink, her on her knees looking up at you with those eyes.

None of it is enough. You need her. You need to taste her, feel her skin against yours, be inside her.

The warehouse set is all sleek white surfaces and ribbed glass partitions. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in cold natural light that makes everything look clean, sterile, and expensive. The perfect contrast to the fire they're trying to create with this concept.

Staff members in black hurry around with clipboards and equipment, speaking in hushed, urgent tones. This "BORN FIRE" trailer shoot has to be perfect—it's launching LE SSERAFIM's most ambitious album "HOT" yet.

You check your own clipboard, making sure everything's on schedule while trying not to think about Chaewon and whatever outfit has her texting you at 2 AM.

The irony isn't lost on you. Here you are, supervising the filming of a teaser—literally called "BORN FIRE"—while Chaewon herself is the true teaser. She's igniting something in you that's becoming increasingly difficult to contain. The line between her performance for the video and her performance for you is blurring dangerously.

"Manager-oppa, the director wants to run through the toy car scene again," Eunchae says, bouncing up to you in her feathered white outfit. "Have you seen Chaewon unnie? She's next."

"Still in wardrobe," you answer, keeping your voice steady. Like you're not thinking about how Chaewon moaned your name in that hotel in Jeju last month, her body shaking beneath yours as she came for the third time that night.

Sakura walks past with her stylist, the long white dress trailing behind her. You spot Kazuha already positioned on one of the white block structures that fill the set. The whole group is scattered around the space in various stages of preparation.

"Jiyeon-ssi," you call to your fellow manager, "can you check if hair and makeup are done with Chaewon?"

Jiyeon nods and heads toward the dressing area. You turn your attention back to the monitor, where the director is reviewing footage.

Then it happens.

The quiet murmur of the set shifts. You feel it before you see it.

Chaewon walks onto set, and your entire body goes rigid.

Your throat goes dry instantly. God, you love her in white—the way it makes her skin glow, how it emphasizes every curve you've memorized with your hands, your mouth. You force yourself to breathe normally even as memories flood your mind unbidden. She knows what this does to you. She's counting on it.

The white strapless dress is even shorter than it looked in the concept sketches and fittings you'd seen last week. It hugs her body perfectly, showing off shoulders you've kissed a hundred times.

The black belt cinches her waist—the waist you've held in your hands while she rode you until you both saw stars. But it's the boots that kill you. Thigh-high, black, lace-up boots that make her legs look endless.

You force yourself to look away, back at your clipboard. Professional. You're a professional.

But memories flood your mind anyway:

Chaewon straddling you in the backseat of your car, hand pressed against your mouth to keep you quiet while security guards walked past.

Chaewon pressed against your kitchen counter, panties around one ankle, begging you not to stop as you dropped to your knees.

Chaewon in your bed, hair spread across your pillow, eyes locked with yours as you moved inside her, whispering that she loves you.

You still remember the first time she said those words—three months in, both of you sweaty and breathless, her eyes wide with something like surprise at her own admission. You'd felt it too, that terrifying, exhilarating free-fall into something neither of you had planned for.

"You good?" asks one of the camera assistants, noticing how you've been staring at nothing.

"Fine," you say, the word clipped.

On set, Chaewon takes her position. In one scene, she stands tall on a miniature white car, the contrast of the boots against the white making her look like some kind of goddess. In another setup, she holds a diagram against her bare shoulder, eyes focused directly at the camera.

She's perfect. Professional. The director loves every take.

But then, during a lighting adjustment, when everyone's attention is elsewhere, she looks directly at you.

It's quick—barely a second—but in that moment, her professional mask slips. Her eyes darken. The corner of her mouth quirks up.

It's the same look she gave you the first time you told her to get on her knees.

The director calls for the next setup. Chaewon moves into position with the other members, all of them in white, creating a visual that's both innocent and somehow sinful.

You take a deep breath. You've been so good. So professional.

But when she walks past you, she whispers, "Bet you want to take this off me so bad," so quietly only you can hear it, you know exactly how this day is going to end.

You are completely, totally fucked.

You're in hell.

Not the burning, fire-and-brimstone kind. The sleek, white, glass-walled kind.

A special kind of hell designed with surgical precision by Kim Chaewon—your weakness, your fucking undoing.

The "BORN FIRE" shoot continues. It's been three hours. You've managed to stay professional for exactly none of them.

"Cut! Five minute break," the director calls.

The set erupts into controlled chaos—stylists rushing to touch up makeup, lighting techs adjusting gear, Kazuha and Eunchae huddled near the white blocks watching practice videos on their phones.

You stare at your clipboard like it contains the secrets of the universe.

Chaewon moves through the space like she owns it, boots clicking against the polished concrete floor. The sound alone makes your pulse kick.

She stands by the glass partition, sunlight catching on her hair, making it glow against all the sterile white. Your eyes follow her despite your brain screaming not to.

"Manager-oppa," she calls, voice sweet and professional. The sound hits you low in your stomach—the same tone she uses right before she begs you to fuck her harder.

"Can you bring me some water?"

She knows exactly what she's doing. Every staff member sees a hardworking idol asking her manager for a simple favor.

You know better.

You grab a bottle and walk it over to her. That's when she strikes.

Her fingers brush yours as she takes the bottle—deliberate, electric—the touch lasting a half-second too long to be accidental.

"Had a dream about you last night," she murmurs, voice pitched for your ears only.

The cap of the water bottle clicks as she twists it open. She drinks slowly, throat working in a way that triggers a vivid flashback—her on her knees three weeks ago, swallowing around you, looking up with those same dark eyes. You'd gripped her hair so tight she'd moaned around you.

Her tongue darts out to catch a drop on her lower lip. Her eyes never leave yours.

You say nothing. Your grip on the clipboard turns your knuckles white.

Jiyeon passes by, checking her watch. "Chaewon-ah, wardrobe wants to check your outfit before the next shot."

Chaewon nods, all professional sweetness. "Coming!"

She brushes past you, close enough that you catch her scent—something floral and expensive that you've tasted on her skin a hundred times before.

The stylist adjusts something on the back of her dress while she stands in front of the monitor. You try to focus on the schedule, on anything but the curve of her shoulder blades, the way the belt cinches her waist.

"Everything good?" the stylist asks.

Chaewon nods, then turns slightly. Her eyes find yours in the reflection of the monitor. "Perfect."

The tech walks away. You're about to do the same when—

"Woke up so wet this morning."

The words hit you like a physical blow. Your body responds instantly, a rush of heat that makes you grit your teeth.

She doesn't even look at you. Just keeps checking her reflection, adjusting a strand of hair like she didn't just set you on fire.

You step closer, voice low. "Watch yourself."

She smiles—sweet, sharp, fucking dangerous. "Always do. That's why I look so good."

The director calls everyone back. You retreat to the safety of the production table.

You adjust your clipboard, grateful for its coverage. This is what she reduces you to—a professional with years of industry experience hiding an erection like a teenager. The thought should embarrass you, but instead, there's a twisted pride in how she still affects you this way, even after a year together.

For exactly twelve minutes, you breathe. Focus. Reset.

Then she slides into the chair next to you.

"Can I see the schedule?" she asks, loud enough for others to hear. Professional. Proper.

You hand her your tablet without looking up. Three staff members hover nearby, discussing lighting for the next scene.

Sakura sits across the table, focused on crocheting something delicate and blue, her fingers moving with practiced precision. The click of her crochet hook provides a steady rhythm to the chaos around you.

That's when you feel it—her hand on your thigh under the table. Casual. Like it belongs there.

Your entire body goes rigid.

"Chaewon," you warn, barely a whisper.

"Mmm?" She leans in, pretending to point at something on the screen. Her fingers start to move. Slow strokes up, then down. Teasing.

You inhale sharply, willing your face to stay neutral.

The staff members move away. But Sakura is still there, focused on her project, the hook moving in and out of the yarn.

Chaewon's hand inches higher, bolder than she's ever been. Her pinky grazes dangerously close to where you're already hardening against your will.

"Stop," you hiss.

She leans closer, her breath against your ear. "I'm ovulating, you know."

Your vision blurs. Blood rushes in your ears.

"You'd feel it the moment you were inside me—"

Sakura looks up suddenly, her eyes meeting yours across the table.

Your heart stops.

Chaewon doesn't move her hand. Instead, she laughs at something on the screen, all innocent charm. "Manager-oppa, the schedule looks too tight. Don't you think?"

Sakura tilts her head, then returns to her crocheting, seemingly oblivious to the fact that your girlfriend's hand is still on your thigh, still dangerously high.

You wrap your fingers around her wrist under the table, stopping her hand but not removing it. A dangerous compromise.

Her pupils dilate. That's when you see it—she's not just playing with you. She's affected too. Her cheeks flushed, her breathing just a little too quick.

She's as desperate as you are.

The realization hits you like a kick to the chest.

"Two minutes!" someone calls.

She extracts her hand slowly, deliberately. Stands up, smooths down her dress. The movement pulls the hem even higher on her thigh.

"Think you can last the rest of the day?" she asks, a challenge glinting in her eyes.

Before you can answer, Jiyeon approaches. "Chaewon-ah, they need you for the car shot."

Chaewon nods, all business again. But as she walks away, she glances back—just once. Just enough for you to see the hunger there, mirroring your own.

The next hour is psychological warfare.

Around you, the set buzzes with activity. Makeup artists touch up the members between shots. The director argues with the cinematographer about lighting. A production assistant nearly trips over a cable, sending everyone scrambling.

And through it all, Chaewon wages her private campaign against your sanity.

This is high-stakes chess played under fluorescent lights.

Every staff member represents a potential career-ending leak. The director who's worked with three generations of idol groups and has seen every possible scandal. The company photographer who reports directly to the CEO. The stylists who know every whispered secret in the industry.

One wrong move, one lingering glance held too long, and everything you've both worked for collapses.

She steps onto the miniature white car, boots planted wide, the dress riding up her thighs as she poses. The camera loves her. Every angle is perfection.

You remember the first time you took her for a drive, six months into your secret relationship. She'd climbed into your lap at a deserted scenic point, the gear shift digging into her leg as she rode you, both of you half-clothed, desperate, her breath fogging the windows as she came.

Now, as she stands on that toy car, her eyes find yours between every take.

During the group shot with the white blocks, she trails her fingers along the edge of the structure, the same way she's traced paths across your chest in the dark of your bedroom. Her fingernails scrape lightly against the white surface, and you swear you can feel phantom scratches down your back.

Each pose becomes more provocative. Each glance more daring.

When the stylist adjusts her dress between shots, Chaewon stretches her arms overhead, making the hem ride dangerously high. The movement fills your nostrils with the scent of her perfume—jasmine and something deeper—that clings to your sheets for days after she leaves.

In the solo shot with the diagram pressed against her bare shoulder, she turns just enough that only you can see how her teeth catch her bottom lip—the same way they do when you're deep inside her.

Your heart hammers against your ribs. Your skin feels too tight. Every minute is torture, and the fact that you're surrounded by people—Jiyeon checking the time, Eunchae asking you questions, staff members constantly brushing past—only makes it worse.

This isn't just teasing anymore. This is Chaewon pushing both of you to the edge.

Then comes the final blow.

During the last break, when the set is buzzing with activity, she passes by the narrow space between the equipment cases where you're checking inventory.

No one can see you here. Just a sliver of space hidden from the main floor.

She stops, just for a second. Leans in.

"Just fuck me in the changing room already."

The clipboard nearly snaps in your grip.

She walks away, satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

And something in you—the last thread of your control—finally snaps.

You count to ten. Wait until she's back in position on set.

Then you move through the space with purpose, face composed, steps measured.

Professional.

You reach her just as the director calls for a lighting check.

Your fingers wrap around her wrist—firm, decisive.

She looks up, triumph flashing in her eyes.

"Do you wanna get caught, you stupid bitch?" you whisper, the words harsh but your tone almost loving.

Her lips part. A small gasp that only you can hear.

"Manager-nim, is something wrong?" the director asks.

"Wardrobe issue," you say smoothly. "Won't take long."

You pull her away from the set, past curious eyes, past Jiyeon's raised eyebrow.

The changing room is too exposed. Too many people.

Five years in this industry has taught you one thing: discretion isn't just preferred, it's survival.

You've built your reputation on professionalism, on being the manager who anticipates problems before they happen.

Chaewon is the one variable you can never fully calculate, the one risk you can't mitigate. And God help you, you wouldn't have it any other way.

You spot it—a storage room door, slightly ajar. Dark. Empty.

Perfect.

Her breath catches as you change direction, leading her toward it.

"What are you—"

You push the door open. Pull her inside The storage room door closes with a soft click.

And finally—fucking finally—you're alone.

One second passes.

Two.

Then Chaewon launches herself at you.

Her hands grab your face with bruising intensity, fingernails digging into your scalp, your jaw, anywhere she can grip. The heat of her palms sears your skin as her mouth finds yours with desperate precision. The kiss is nuclear—all teeth and tongue and hunger. She bites your lower lip, hard enough to make you taste the metallic hint of blood, then soothes it with the velvety warmth of her tongue, exploring your mouth like she's trying to devour you whole.

Her body presses against yours, tits crushed against your chest, her hips grinding with shameless need. She grabs your hands and places them on her ass, demanding your touch without saying a word.

"Fuck, I missed your mouth," she gasps, her breath hot against your lips as she pulls at your clothes, fingers trembling and scrabbling at your belt, nails occasionally scraping against your abdomen. She can't seem to decide where to touch you—her hands moving from your chest to your shoulders to your neck, back to your belt, frantic and greedy. "Missed your hands. Missed your cock."

You slam her against the shelves, the metal rattling with a satisfying clang that echoes her gasp. Your hands are everywhere—her face, flushed and warm beneath your palms; her throat, pulse hammering wildly under your fingertips; the soft swell of her breasts rising and falling with each ragged breath; the dramatic curve of her waist that fits perfectly in your grip. Every touch relearns the terrain you've been starved of for three endless weeks.

She reaches behind and grabs your wrists, dragging your hands to her ass, forcing you to squeeze the firm flesh. "Touch me everywhere," she demands, voice thick with need. "I've been dying for it."

"You took too fucking long," she pants against your lips, her voice vibrating through you as her hands finally get your pants open, the sudden coolness of air a sharp contrast to the heat of her touch. Her fingers brush against your cock, a teasing touch that makes your jaw clench.

The storage room closes around you—metal shelves on one wall digging into her back, garment racks crowded with costumes exhaling the scent of fabric softener and makeup, cardboard boxes stacked in the corner threatening to topple with each movement. A single fluorescent light buzzes overhead, casting harsh shadows that carve her features into something almost feral with need, highlighting the sheen of sweat beginning to form at her temples, at the hollow of her throat.

She makes quick work of the black safety shorts beneath her dress, the fabric making a soft whisper as it slides down her legs before she kicks them away. The movement is so fluid, so urgent, that your mouth goes dry with anticipation. She grabs your hand, guiding it between her legs, letting you feel how ready she is. "See what you do to me?" she whispers, eyes locked on yours.

You spin her around, the quick motion making her gasp. For a moment, you just look at her—the elegant column of her neck where a few baby hairs escape her bob cut, curling with perspiration; the delicate slope of her shoulders, pale and perfect under the harsh light; the dramatic curve where her waist meets the swell of her ass, emphasized by the black belt that begs to be gripped. The white dress clings to every inch, revealing the heat she's generating beneath it. Your mouth waters just looking at her, tongue dragging across suddenly parched lips.

Your hand comes down on her ass with a sharp crack, the sound startlingly loud in the confined space. She jerks forward, a surprised gasp escaping her lips. The pale skin instantly flushes pink under your palm.

"Hurry up," she demands, looking back at you over her shoulder, eyes dark and glassy with impatience, pupils blown wide until only a thin ring of brown remains. She arches her back, pushing her ass against your hand, silently begging for more.

You grip her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave impressions. "Shut the fuck up."

Her breath catches with an audible hitch. You know she loves it when you talk to her like this—can feel it in the goosebumps that rise under your touch, in the way her thighs tremble slightly.

You run your hands up her sides, feeling the heat radiating through the thin fabric, then down to the hem of her dress, bunching the material as you start to lift it. The fabric makes a soft rustling sound that seems obscenely loud in the small space. Your hands slide up her thighs, skin like silk beneath your calloused palms, finding the lace edge of her panties. Black, of course. The contrast against her pale skin is stark and mouthwatering.

Another smack lands on her ass, harder this time. You watch the flesh jiggle under the impact, the imprint of your hand blooming pink against her porcelain skin. "You like that?" you ask, already knowing the answer as she pushes back against you.

"Yes," she hisses, grinding back against your hand. "Again. Harder."

You comply, landing another sharp slap, watching the way her body jerks forward before pressing back, seeking more. "Look at you," you murmur, "So perfect for the cameras, but in here, you're just a dirty little slut who gets wet from being spanked."

She moans at your words, the sound vibrating through her entire body. "Only for you," she whispers, the admission hanging heavy in the air between you.

Spinning her back around, you claim her mouth again, tasting mint and desperation on her tongue as your hand slips between her legs, pressing the lace against her. The fabric is soaked through, warm and clinging to her folds. Her hands are everywhere—gripping your shoulders, sliding down your chest, grabbing at your ass to pull you closer, like she can't get enough of touching you.

"Goddamn," you mutter against her lips, the words a vibration between your connected mouths. "Your pussy's fucking drenched."

You hook your fingers into the lace and yank it aside, the elastic snapping against her thigh. Your middle finger slides through her folds, gathering her wetness, feeling how swollen and ready she is—hot and slick and perfect against your fingertips.

"Look how fucking wet you are," you murmur, watching her face contort with pleasure as you circle her clit, feeling it harden beneath your touch. "Been thinking about this all day, haven't you?"

She whimpers, a high, needy sound that goes straight to your cock as she grinds against your hand. "I told you I've been wet since I woke up," she pants, her breath coming in short, hot puffs against your face. "Thinking about you. About this. About you bending me over and fucking me until I can't remember my own name."

She tries to reach for you, but you catch her wrist with your free hand, her pulse jumping beneath your grip as you pin it above her head against the shelves. The metal is cold against her skin, making her hiss.

"Not yet," you tell her, voice dropping to a growl. "I want you desperate first."

"I'm already desperate," she hisses, trying to rock against your hand, the movement making her belt buckle clink against itself. Her free hand grabs at your shirt, your arm, anywhere she can reach. "Just fuck me already."

You turn her again, pressing her face-first against the metal shelving. The cold surface makes her gasp, back arching instinctively away from it. She braces herself, legs automatically spreading wider on the concrete floor, the heel of her boots making a sharp click as she repositions.

You grab her belt from behind, leather warm from her body heat, using it to arch her back, positioning her ass higher. The positioning makes the dress ride up further, exposing more of her thighs, making her stance more obscene, more perfect.

Another smack lands on her exposed ass, harder than before, the sound cracking through the small room. She jerks forward, a moan ripping from her throat.

"Fucking perfect," you mutter, kneading the flesh you just struck, watching the pink handprint fade and bloom again under your touch. You land another blow on the opposite cheek, evening her out, making her squirm.

The scent of her arousal hits you fully now—musky, sweet, unmistakable. Your mouth waters at the smell of her, cock throbbing painfully in response.

You reach up, fingers finding her hair, gripping the short strands of her bob at the nape of her neck. Not pulling, just holding, controlling. The sensation makes her moan, her head falling back into your grip.

"Please," she whispers, the word a broken, ragged thing as she tries to push back against you.

You keep her in place with your dual grip on her belt and hair. "Please what?"

"Please fuck me," she begs, all teasing gone from her voice, replaced with raw need. "I need your cock inside me. Now."

You release her hair to lean over her, your chest pressing against her back, trapping her heat between your bodies. Your mouth finds her ear, teeth grazing the sensitive lobe. "After all that teasing? All those filthy little comments with people right fucking there?"

You land another hard slap on her ass, watching the flesh redden under your palm. "This what you wanted? Getting your ass slapped while the whole crew is just outside?"

"Yes," she admits, voice small but sure. "Needed it so bad."

You drag the head of your cock through her slick folds, the sensation making both of you groan—her wetness hot and silky against you, making everything gloriously frictionless. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't make you wait longer."

"Because," she pants, voice vibrating with need, "you want this as bad as I do."

She's right, and you both know it.

You guide yourself to her entrance and thrust in with one brutal stroke, burying yourself to the hilt in her tight, clinging heat.

The sound she makes is primal—half gasp, half moan, pure fucking need. Your hand clamps over her mouth immediately, palm registering the warm wetness of her breath, the softness of her lips.

"Shhh," you warn even as you pull back and drive in again, the slick sound of your joining obscenely loud in the small space. "You want the whole fucking staff to hear how you take cock? How their perfect Kim Chaewon is just a dirty little whore in here?"

She shakes her head, but her pussy clenches around you at the words, a vice-like grip that sends stars exploding behind your eyelids. You know she loves the risk, the filth, the knowledge that just outside this door, she's Kim Chaewon of LE SSERAFIM, but in here, she's just yours to use.

"That's what gets you off, isn't it?" you growl against her ear, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. "Knowing they all think you're so sweet, so professional, when really you're in here letting me fuck you raw in a storage room."

Moving your hand from her mouth to her throat, you feel her swallow against your palm, her pulse racing beneath your fingers. You don't squeeze, just hold, feeling the vibrations of her moans traveling through her slender neck.

"That's right," you growl against her ear, teeth scraping the shell. "Remember who you belong to."

Her response is a full-body shudder, her inner walls clenching around you, making you groan at the sensation.

You fuck her hard, each thrust making her body jolt against the shelves. The metal creaks ominously, the sound mixing with the wet slap of skin on skin, the harsh sounds of your combined breathing. Your hand comes down on her ass again, the sting making her gasp, her pussy clenching around you in response.

"You love that, don't you?" you murmur, watching the red handprint bloom on her pale skin. "Love getting your ass slapped while your tight little pussy gets stretched around my cock."

"Yes," she admits, voice breaking around the word. "Love it. Love everything you do to me."

Without pulling out, you grab her left thigh and lift it, the smooth leather of her boot sliding against your palm as you plant her foot against a lower shelf. The new position opens her up, lets you sink even deeper into her molten core.

"Fuck," she whimpers, head falling forward against her braced arm, the tendons in her neck standing out in sharp relief.

"That's it," you growl, watching yourself disappear inside her over and over, mesmerized by the sight of her taking you, by the glistening evidence of her arousal coating you. "Take it deeper."

You grip her belt with one hand, bunching her dress even higher with the other until it's completely out of the way. The sight of her perfect ass jiggling with each impact makes your head swim, blood rushing in your ears. It's already pink from your earlier attention, the skin warm to the touch.

Your hand slides up her spine to grip her hair again, this time with purpose. You gather the short strands in your fist, tugging just enough to make her back arch further, to make her gasp, throat exposed and vulnerable.

"Look at you," you say, voice rough with exertion, the words punched out of you with each thrust. "LE SSERAFIM's perfect leader, taking cock in a storage room, being such a whore. Such a pretty little slut with your ass all red from my hands, your pussy dripping all over my cock."

She pushes back against you, taking you deeper, her body greedily swallowing every inch. "Harder," she demands, voice breaking on the word. "Fuck me harder. Make me feel it tomorrow."

You grip both her hips now, fingers digging into soft flesh, and pick up the pace. The new angle has you hitting that spot inside her that makes her whole body tremble, makes her walls flutter and clench around you. The wet sounds of her pussy taking your cock fill the small space—obscene, filthy, perfect.

"You're so fucking tight," you groan, feeling her walls grip you like a silken vice. "Squeezing my cock like you're trying to milk it dry."

You switch your grip, one hand finding her throat again, feeling her swallow against your palm as you apply the gentlest pressure. Just enough to remind her who's in control, to make her breath catch. Your other hand comes down hard on her ass again, the smack loud enough to make you both freeze for a second, worried it might have been heard outside.

"You've been a fucking menace all day," you growl, your pace relentless, the sound of your bodies coming together a wet percussion. "Strutting around in this dress, whispering that shit in my ear, touching me under the table."

Your grip on her throat tightens fractionally, making her pulse jump against your fingers. Her only response is to push back harder, taking you deeper, her body yielding and demanding all at once.

"You'd let me do anything to you, wouldn't you?" you ask, voice low and rough in her ear. "Slap your ass, pull your hair, fuck you where anyone could walk in and see you—see what a desperate little whore you really are."

"Yes," she admits, the confession barely audible. "Anything. Everything."

The tension builds between you, a tangible thing in the small, overheated room. The air is thick with the scent of sex, with the sounds of pleasure barely contained, with the electric certainty that this is exactly where you both need to be.

You change the angle again, leaning over her back to reach around to her front. The new position grinds your pelvis against her ass with each thrust, your cock hitting new spots inside her. Your fingers find her clit, circling it in tight, firm motions, feeling it swell and harden under your touch.

"Oh fuck," she gasps, her inner walls fluttering around you like wings. "Right there, don't stop."

You don't stop. You keep up the relentless pace, feeling her get wetter around you with each stroke, her arousal making everything slick and hot and perfect. Your fingers on her clit get slicker, the combination of her arousal and your spit making obscene wet sounds that mix with the slap of skin on skin.

"That's right, take it just like that," you encourage, voice strained. "Take it like the cock-hungry little slut you are."

Instead of being offended, she moans louder, her body responding to your words as much as to your touch. You know exactly what she likes to hear, exactly how far to push the fantasy of degradation that excites her so much.

The pleasure is so intense you have to grit your teeth to keep from coming too soon. Three weeks without this—without her tight heat squeezing you, without her desperate little sounds, without the feeling of being buried inside her—has left you balanced on a knife's edge of control.

"You close?" you ask, voice strained, the words feeling like they're being ripped from your chest.

"Yes," she pants, the word almost a sob. "So close."

You reach up with your free hand, tangling your fingers in her hair again, carefully pulling her head back to expose the elegant line of her neck, watching the muscles work beneath the skin as she swallows. You bend to press open-mouthed kisses along her shoulder, right where the dress leaves her skin bare, tasting salt and sweetness.

"Think about this tomorrow," you murmur against her skin, lips dragging over the goosebumps your breath creates. "When you're sitting in meetings, when you're in practice, when you're smiling for the cameras—remember how fucked you look right now. Remember how your ass felt getting spanked while my cock was inside you. Remember what a perfect little whore you are for me."

Her breath catches. Her pussy clenches around you. She's right on the edge, her body wound tight as a bowstring.

"Remember you're fucking mine," you growl, punctuating the words with a particularly deep thrust that makes her cry out before she can stop herself, the sound sharp and startling in the quiet room.

You cover her mouth again, palm feeling the heat of her breath, the wetness of her lips, but it's too late—the sound echoed in the small room. Both of you freeze, hearts pounding, listening for any reaction from outside.

Nothing. Just the continued sounds of the busy set.

The moment of fear transforms quickly back into desperate need. Your thrusts become harder, deeper, more deliberate. Her body responds with renewed hunger, pushing back to meet you stroke for stroke, the rhythm between you perfect and instinctive.

Your hand slips from her mouth to her throat, not squeezing, just feeling her pulse race under your palm, feeling the vibrations of her moans travel through your fingertips.

"You gonna come for me?" you ask, feeling your own orgasm building at the base of your spine, heat coiling tight and insistent. "Gonna come all over my cock like the needy little slut you are?"

She nods frantically, beyond words now. Her body tightens around you, clenching with each thrust, the pressure building visibly in the arch of her back, the tension in her thighs, the way her fingers curl against the metal shelf.

You can feel your own release building, the tight grip of her pussy dragging you toward the edge. You've been thinking about this for weeks—dreaming about it, jerking off to memories of it—and now you're finally here, buried inside her, both of you desperate and filthy and perfect.

Her breath hitches. Her pussy flutters around your cock. You know the signs—she's right there, teetering on the precipice.

One more hard slap on her ass, the sting making her gasp, her inner walls clenching around you in response.

You lower her leg from the shelf, repositioning her with both feet on the ground, but spread wide. You grip her belt again with one hand, keeping up the pressure on her clit with the other. The new angle has you grinding against that spot inside her that makes her go crazy, makes her whole body tremble.

"Come on," you urge, your own control slipping, voice rough and broken. "Come on my cock, Chaewon. Let me feel it. Let me feel what a fucking whore you are for me."

Her body responds instantly, like your words were the final trigger she needed. She buries her face against her arm to muffle the sound as her orgasm rips through her, her pussy clamping down on you in rhythmic pulses, a flood of warmth surrounding you. Her legs shake so hard you have to hold her up with the grip on her belt, feeling the tremors travel through her entire body.

The sight of her completely wrecked, the feel of her convulsing around you, the knowledge that you did this to her—it all sends you over the edge. You thrust deep one last time, grinding against her ass as you come, filling her up with pulse after pulse, the pleasure so intense it's almost pain, radiating from your core to the tips of your fingers, the backs of your knees, the top of your skull.

"Fuck, Chaewon, fuck," you chant, forehead pressed between her shoulder blades as you empty yourself inside her, feeling the way she milks every drop from you, her body greedy even in its exhaustion.

For a long moment, neither of you moves. Just the sound of ragged breathing, your heartbeats gradually slowing from their frantic pace, the distant muffled voices of the set filtering back into your awareness.

You're still inside her, softening but reluctant to break the connection. Her body occasionally trembles with aftershocks, her pussy giving your cock little squeezes that make you hiss with oversensitivity, the sensation bordering on too much.

You run your hand gently over her ass, soothing the skin you'd been striking moments ago. It's still warm to the touch, a faint pink that will fade before she has to be back on set. Your touch is gentle now, a stark contrast to the roughness from before.

"You okay?" you murmur against her ear, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her neck.

"Better than okay," she whispers back, voice wrecked but satisfied.

Eventually, you pull out slowly, both of you groaning at the sensation. You watch as a trickle of your come leaks from her, sliding down her inner thigh. The sight sends a possessive thrill through you, primal and satisfying.

She straightens, turning to face you. Her makeup is smeared, her lips swollen and red, her cheeks flushed. Her eyes have that dazed, satisfied look that only comes after she's been thoroughly fucked. A thin sheen of sweat makes her skin glow under the fluorescent light. Her short hair is disheveled where you'd gripped it, sticking up in places that you smooth down with gentle fingers.

You grab tissues from a box on the shelf, gently cleaning between her legs. She watches you, a soft smile playing on her lips—so different from the smirk she's been tormenting you with all day.

"Did I hurt you?" you ask, suddenly aware of how rough you were, eyes searching for marks on her throat, her wrists, her hips, ghosting your fingers over her ass where you'd struck her.

She shakes her head, running her fingers through your hair, nails scraping lightly against your scalp in a way that makes you shiver. "Babe, It was perfect."

You retrieve her safety shorts from the floor and help her back into them, then smooth down her dress. Your hands linger on her waist, not quite ready to let go, feeling the warmth of her through the fabric.

A smirk forms slowly on her face, eyes glittering with mischief as she leans in close, her breath warm against your ear. "Think they heard?"

You press a final kiss to her shoulder, lingering there, inhaling deeply—tasting salt and perfume and her, that essence that's uniquely Chaewon beneath the expensive fragrance. Your lips trace a path to the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, feeling her pulse still racing beneath your mouth.

"Not if you keep your mouth shut next time," you murmur against her skin, unable to resist giving her one more gentle bite.

She hums, the sound vibrating against your lips. "But where's the fun in that?" she whispers, that familiar playful defiance in her voice.

As she attempts to take a step back, her legs buckle. She grabs your shoulders to steady herself, her usual composure completely absent, the bratty confidence from seconds ago vanishing.

"I can't move," she whispers, voice wrecked, blinking up at you with unfocused eyes. All the sharp edges of her personality momentarily dissolved, leaving her soft and vulnerable in a way no one else ever sees. "My legs won't work."

"Good," you murmur, unable to hide your satisfaction as you press a kiss to her forehead, supporting her weight. You hold her close for a moment, feeling the way she melts against you, completely undone.

After a moment, that familiar glint of mischief gradually returns to her eyes. The transformation is beginning; the desperate, wrecked woman slowly rebuilding herself into the polished idol.

In this moment, with her guard completely down, she looks younger, softer. The harsh fluorescent lighting should be unflattering, but somehow it just makes her look more real—smudged eyeshadow, faint red marks on her throat where your fingers were, her hair disheveled despite her attempts to smooth it. For a few seconds more, she's just yours.

She reaches up, her hand cupping your cheek with surprising tenderness. Her eyes, usually sharp and mischievous, soften as she looks at you. She leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips—so different from the desperate ones you shared minutes ago. This one is deliberate, unhurried.

"I love you," she whispers against your mouth, the words barely audible but unmistakable. It's not something she says often—both of you knowing how dangerous those words can be in your situation.

Your hand comes up to cover hers where it rests against your face, holding her there for a moment. "I love you too," you reply quietly, the words filling the small space between you. "Even when you're being a menace."

Her eyes crinkle at the corners. "Especially when I'm being a menace," she corrects, and you can't help but smile.

You glare at her playfully, and she giggles—the sound at complete odds with what just happened, with the filthy things you both just did, with the woman who was begging for your cock and calling herself your whore minutes ago. The contrast is jarring and perfect; this duality of hers that only you get to witness.

She leans in and kisses you deeply, but without the desperate edge from before. This kiss is softer, a promise.

When she pulls back, you can see the clock ticking in her head. Reality intruding.

"You go first," you say, checking your watch. "They'll be looking for you. The shoot needs to wrap in twenty minutes."

She nods, takes a deep breath, and you watch in fascination as she transforms back into LE SSERAFIM's leader right before your eyes. Her shoulders straighten, her chin lifts, her expression becomes more controlled. It's like watching an actress step into character—except you know both versions are equally real.

She checks her reflection in her phone, adjusts her belt, smooths her hair with practiced precision. Only you would notice the slight tremble in her fingers, the pink marks on her hips where your hands were, the satisfied glow in her eyes that the camera won't quite catch but you can see clearly.

"How do I look?" she asks, voice steady now, almost back to the professional tone she uses with everyone else.

Like she's just been thoroughly fucked. Like her thighs are still sticky with both of you. Like she's hiding a universe of secrets behind that poised expression. Like she's yours.

"Perfect," you say instead, swallowing the possessive thoughts.

She smiles—not the coy smirk from before, but something genuine that crinkles the corners of her eyes. Then it's gone, replaced by the polished mask she wears for everyone else.

Just as you think she's about to leave, she presses one last kiss to your jaw, her fingers trailing down your chest with deliberate slowness. Her lips move to your ear, breath hot against your skin.

"I'll be thinking about this all night," she whispers, voice dropping to that register that makes your pulse quicken despite your recent release. Then, even lower, just for you: "And touching myself the second I get back to the dorm."

Before you can respond, she's slipped out the door with a final squeeze of your hand, leaving you alone in the storage room with her promise echoing in your mind, the scent of sex still hanging in the air, mingling with her perfume.

You give it two minutes before following, clipboard held strategically in front of you, expression carefully neutral as you adjust your own mask—the efficient manager, all business.

By the time you return, Chaewon is already back on set, taking direction for the next shot, nodding professionally at the photographer's instructions. Her posture is immaculate, her expression perfectly calibrated—looking as composed and professional as if she'd just been touching up her makeup instead of being bent over a shelf with your hand prints on her ass.

No one looks at her twice. No one notices the way she stands slightly differently, favoring one leg. No one sees the slight darkening at the base of her throat where your mouth had been.

You watch from behind the monitor, maintaining a careful distance, occasionally checking your phone or making notes on your clipboard. The perfect picture of professionalism.

She gets into position, poised and beautiful under the lights, following direction flawlessly. The camera loves her—captures her elegance, her poise, but misses completely the woman you know.

Then she glances directly at the camera, and for just a second—

The look she gives—half-lidded eyes, the barest hint of teeth catching her lower lip, a fleeting microexpression of remembered pleasure—that's just for you.

And you know, watching her seamlessly return to her perfect idol persona, that you'll both be counting the minutes until you can be alone again.

...

AN: Yes I'm a certified CHAEWON simp. This is strike 3 chaewon from me with more coming.

#cloudtrnsprncy #cloudtsmut #malereader #kpop smut #chaewon x reader #kim chaewon #chaewon #chaewon x male reader #lesserafim #chaewon hot

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queeniewithabeanie · 1 month ago

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Lady Gotham

Dpxdc Prompt #47

When Danny Fenton moved to Gotham for university the city noticed.

After all, before Lady Gotham was Gotham she was Samantha Manson.

It all started with the Nasty Burger explosion.

Mr. Lancer, Mrs. and Mr. Fenton, Jazz, Danny, Tucker, and Sam were all there. One moment, Danny was being confronted about cheating on his career aptitude test and the next all Sam could see was the familiar toxic green of the Ghost Zone.

Sam's first thought was did anyone survive? and her second was i need to find Danny.

She wasn't sure of the fate of anyone caught in the explosion, for all she knew she could've been the only one to die (unlikely), and if not that the only one to form into a ghost (sadly, plausible).

With worst case scenarios flooding her head, Sam began looking for anything familiar in the Zone. She'd never been without the infi-map before and now that she didn't have it she was lost.

She never had a chance of finding Danny because she fell into a portal after she'd barely begun searching.

When Sam became aware again, she found herself in a world similar to her home, but very different at the same time.

The times were different, this world barely in the 1700s. She was in a different location, somewhere in the northeast, but she couldn't tell exactly where yet. And most importantly, the world seemed more magical than the one she came from.

Of course, she tried to get home, but there were no natural portals opening up and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't make them herself.

After spending 20 years, more time than she had lived in her home dimension, in what had come to be named Gotham, Sam had settled down. She made friends with a family named the Waynes and though she would never forget Danny and Tucker she had an afterlife in this new dimension now too.

Sam protected the city best she could from anything that tried to harm it, making it her own haunt. Eventually the people around town started calling her The Lady of Gotham, later shortened to just Lady Gotham.

A century after joining the world, Sam was cursed and by extension Gotham was cursed too. She could no longer speak, and while she still tried her best to protect the city from outside harm there was nothing she could do about the corruption within.

She watched over the Waynes inside the limits of her haunt, them having become her family in this new world. And in return the Waynes tried to keep Gotham the best place it could be, attempting to keep it from becoming a cesspool.

Sam did her best, she did what she could and in return Gothamites had a certain pride in their city.

"It's terrible, but it's home" was the general sentiment shared by the citizens.

Soon enough the times were approaching to when she had been alive, and a new generation of Waynes emerged in her streets. When she failed to protect Martha and Thomas, Sam felt sorrow and let the shadows gather around Bruce to show him she was grieving too.

He left, but as many Gothamites did he came back. And when he came back it was with vengeance.

Her streets were more corrupt than they had ever been before, but Bruce came in like a knight in shining armor. No—not shining, but dark. Dark and jagged, but home and just as much a part of Gotham as Sam herself.

With Bruce becoming Batman, his partners weren't far behind. First Dick, then Babs, Jason, Tim, Steph, Cass, Damian, and Duke. And with so many Waynes, not in blood but in everything that mattered, trying to save her Sam felt more loved than ever before.

And then she felt a Danny Fenton, older than her's had ever gotten to be at 18-years-old, enter the streets. Sam, for the first time in forever, she longed for what could have been.

That night, the skies were clearer and the streets were quieter as Sam held on to Danny through the shadows and didn't let go.

Her knights wouldn't mind one more addition, she hoped.

#the sam from dan's universe became lady gotham #i have had this idea for a while #and i finally got possessed into writing it today #sam manson #danny fenton #batfam #dpxdc #dp x dc prompt #queenie-prompts

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talesofesther · 4 months ago

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sweet serenity

Lucanis Dellamorte x Rook

Summary: After it all, Lucanis finds his serenity.

A/N: I wasn't planning on writing something for Lucanis so soon, but this sweet little thought came to my mind, and I couldn't let it slide. No spoilers ahead. I hope you enjoy it. Do let me know if you want to see more of him here! Requests are open, as usual.

Masterlist

An air of serenity engulfs Rook's meditation chamber, all quiet and calm. It's late into the night, or at least, what would be the equivalent of it in the fade. The large aquarium that covers an entire wall created ripples of liquid light on the floor and over Rook's skin. She watches for a moment as the fish swim lazily in the water, wondering still, in the back of her mind, how exactly they came to be in the fade.

Her attention wavers quickly, however, when her lips brush against raven hair. A smile comes to Rook's lips, one of her hands gingerly tracing shapes over his naked back. Her fingertips feel over a few bumps, some small, others not so much. Each scar on his skin had already felt the touch of her lips, too.

Lucanis is lying with her, or rather, on her. His head nests snuggly on the curve of her neck, facing away from the aquarium. One of his arms is over her stomach, and a steady and warm grip keeps her as close as humanly possible to him. He'd refused to leave her side, ever since he nearly lost her. Once is enough—the Crow had told her, his eyes glinting with pools of unshed worry, hurt, and longing.

Rook doesn't mind, much on the contrary. It feels almost healing to be so tangled with Lucanis, not knowing where he ends and she begins. She nuzzles onto the crown of his head, laying a chaste kiss there. It makes him shiver, she feels it in the goosebumps that rise on his skin.

He'd reacted the same way on their first night together, too; She had taken his cheeks between both her hands, only so she could touch his forehead with hers, noses bumping together while her fingers buried into his hair with the care of someone holding their world in their hands. And from her touch, she felt something wet drop onto her cheeks, once and then twice. His hands trembled where he held onto her waist. She had opened her eyes to find tear tracks down Lucanis' face. It had worried her, but in the same breath, he clutched at her hand like a lifeline and placed it more firmly onto his skin. On that night, she leaned forward again, her lips then tracing a path from below his eye, down to his cheeks, and until she found his lips again. There had been a distant salty taste to it as she kissed his tears away.

His goosebumps under her fingertips tonight bring the memory to the forefront of her mind, and she smiles, all sweet and adoring.

Everything is all too new for him, she knows. He even tried to deny his own feelings in the beginning. Rook still remembers the words Lucanis had told her not that long ago. You deserve better than to deal with my mess. Many times, he tried to give her an out, to keep her away; in his mind, it was safer that way. She deserved better, and Lucanis feared the possibility of him, or Spite, ever hurting her.

She'd convinced him otherwise. Showed him otherwise. She always did.

And now, Lucanis can happily drown in her embrace. He fears though, that it's without it that he might suffocate.

The quietness lingers, and Lucanis feels faint with the way she loved on him. Her touch is all too gentle and tender, he can't remember a time before her that he'd ever felt something like it. Perhaps never. He buries his nose further against her skin, a shuddering breath passing through his lips. There is a burning in the back of his eyes, but this time it doesn't come from Spite, for the demon has been blissfully quiet for a while now.

Lucanis felt her kiss, her fingers brushing over his scars—as delicate as rose petals on his skin. And he could crumble. He would get on his knees and promise her the world over and over if it meant she'd keep touching him with the gentleness of her hands.

"You're quiet tonight," Rook's soft voice says. It's a mere observation, as she selfishly missed the sound of his voice.

Lucanis hums, all sleepy, as his thumb traces the skin of her hip. "For too long," he holds a pause, they have the time all for themselves anyway, "I've wished for this… peace." The crow can feel her hand wandering, his eyes remain closed but her presence is intoxicating and he can't help but be aware of it. She's fidgeting with his hair, he feels the gentle tugs on the long strands.

"Spite?" Rook inquires, a little distracted.

"Is silent," he sighs. "With you, he's always calm." Lucanis' accent is heavy on his words and Rook smiles again. "I think… you are stuck with me now." There's the slightest bit of hesitation as he says it, still. Lucanis holds onto his breath, a little more awake now.

"Good. I was hoping to be." Warmth and affection drips from Rook's words, and the crow eases the air in his lungs.

Silence engulfs them again, but Lucanis is mindful of her movements. He senses her touch on multiple strands of his hair, working one over the other in a neat, small braid. He assumes as much, at least. It's more than welcome, he nearly purrs at her ministrations. Lucanis' hand lays flat against her stomach, drawing a pattern over her ribs, down to her hip, and back again.

Rook smooths one hand over his hair, fingers burying between soft dark locks, careful of the little braid now resting beside his ear. She picks out three strands and begins anew.

"What are you doing there, mi amor?"

Rook's cheeks become warm, a sheepish tilt to her lips as she bites back a smile. "Hmm, nothing."

She feels the shape of Lucanis' own smile against her skin, though, before he gives a kiss to the skin of her collarbone.

"I am not taking them off, you know," he mumbles, referring to the little artwork she's been doing to his hair.

She buries her nose against him to muffle a chuckle, and Lucanis can't take it anymore. He pushes himself up on his elbows, looking down at her with something that could only be described as adoration. All blown pupils and flushed cheeks.

He kisses her, over and over. He feels privileged.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Lucanis' taglist is open, let me know if you'd like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

#lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #dragon age lucanis #da4 lucanis #lucanis romance #lucanis fanfiction #lucanis imagine #lucanis x reader #dragon age the veilguard #da: the veilguard #dragon age fanfiction #lucanis x you #fanfic #angst #fluff #lucanis dellamorte x rook #my story

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wileys-russo · 1 year ago

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filling the void (4) II a.putellas x sister!reader

prequel one two three

filling the void (4) II a.putellas x sister!reader

you looked up from your coffee as the front door opened, your sister walking through and pulling her headphones down around her neck clearly having gone for a run.

"bon dia hermana." she greeted as you only nodded, sipping on your coffee and breathing a small sigh of relief when alexia headed toward her bedroom.

when she returned a few minutes later her headphones were gone and she'd taken off her runners, padding her way into the kitchen to make herself a coffee and start breakfast.

as you sat at the bench drifting away into your own world alexia was stuck in her head just as much as you were, between worries for eli and worries for you her mind was a mess, only worsening after your confession last night.

a confession which you were praying to every and all god that alexia wouldn't bring up, already incredibly embarrassed about your outburst at the hospital you didn't think you'd handle having to confront anything else head on right now.

olga could sense the tension in the room before she even entered, needing to head off to madrid for a few days for work she'd spent most of this morning worrying about what might happen while she was away but alexia had been firm that it was important she still go.

"hola pequeña." the older girl greeted you as you sent her a smile, alexia glancing over her shoulder in surprise when you didn't make any comment on the use of the nickname, though really she should figure she'd lost the right to battle you about that anyway with her behavior lately.

"amor you called jona sí?" olga murmered, alexia nodding and stealing a kiss when you weren't looking as if you were still a child, the captain having taken the next two days off from training to make sure she was around with everything going on.

"two days, more if i need them." alexia murmured, olga smiling appreciatively knowing how hard it was for her girlfriend to take time off, her work ethic just as dangerous as it was admirable at times.

both girls turned their heads as you awkwardly cleared your throat, alexia wordlessly raising an eyebrow as your fingers drummed anxiously against the ceramic walls of the coffee mug clenched tightly in hand, the beverage itself now long gone luke warm.

"can you take me home please? i have work at nine." you asked quietly, alexia hesitating for a moment as if unsure of a response. "you don't want to come to the hospital?" your sister asked carefully, olgas hand moving to rest on top of hers on the counter.

"i have to work." you answered again, a little firmer this time. "hermana if you call your boss and explain i am sure that-" alexia tried again as you shook your head. "i have to work. i have my routine and i need to be home to follow it, all my things are there. alexia can you please take me home?" you stood abruptly, jaw clenched as you smoothed out the clothes you'd been wearing for the last near twelve hours.

as alexia opened her mouth her girlfriend gently tapped a finger against her knuckles in a silent warning. "i can take you on my way to the gym nena." olga stepped in with a smile as you nodded, alexia watching you hurry away to the bedroom to grab your phone and house keys.

"why does she not want to-" alexia frowned as her girlfriend shook her head, cutting her off. "leave it ale. you need what you need, and fresa needs what fresa needs." olga warned softly, hand tracing the catalan's sharp jawline which tensed but none the less the blonde nodded.

"do you want-" "i'll cook something when i get back before my flight mi vida, go see your mami." olga kissed her cheek, alexia sending her a small smile and pecking her lips a few times in silent appreciation before you returned.

"ready to go?"

"-no there's still no update, she's still not really awake yet and she's still on the ventilator." alexia explained with a sigh, on her way back to the car and on the phone for what felt like the hundredth time today, having swallowed the bullet and starting to reach out to close family members to let them know what happened.

"tía i promise as soon as she is awake and less high risk i will call you right away, for now she is not allowed many visitors. alba and i only saw her for a few minutes today and we were waiting for hours." alexia fished her keys out of her pocket and hummed, the rapid spanish on the other end of the line the same thing she'd heard all day.

"sí fresa is okay, alba and i are looking after her." alexia spoke on autopilot despite the way the words felt like ashes in her mouth, an incoming call having her rapidly finish up the conversation, abruptly hanging up and clicking accept.

"hola hermana." alexia sighed tiredly, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder as she paid for her parking and rolled her eyes at the high price but tapping her card none the less.

"were you picking fresa up from work?" alba asked, a slight worry to her tone as alexia frowned, stopping in her tracks. "no. she said you were picking her up, olga dropped her off this morning." alexia answered, hurrying to her car.

"well thats what i thought too. but i am here, the clinic is closed and she is not here, nobody is." alba replied, having left the hospital a couple of hours ago. "mierda. maybe she took the bus? i can go past mami's house now to check if she is there." alexia decided, promising to keep alba in the loop as she hurried out of the parking garage.

alexia wasn't sure to be relieved or annoyed when she pulled into the driveway and noticed the house lights were on, the blurred shadows of a figure moving behind the drawn curtains could be just faintly seen.

knocking on the front door a few times alexia tapped her foot, frowning when the door only opened a slight crack and your head poked out. "what?" you asked, a little bluntly as your sister seemed taken aback.

"alba went to pick you up from work and you were not there, we were worried." alexia started as you rolled your eyes, still refusing to open the door properly. "i finish early on mondays." you answered.

"oh, i didn't know." your sister frowned as you scoffed slightly. "why would you alexia? i'm surprised you both even know where i work." the older girls cheeks flushed a little with warmth.

"hermanita-" 'don't, please." you cut her off before she could speak, not in the mood for the conversation you knew she'd want to start right now.

"pack a bag then, you can stay with me again tonight." your sister forced a smile as you gave her an odd look as if she'd grown a second head. "why?" though when all you received in response was a knowing look, your eyes rolled once more.

"alexia, go home. i am fine here by myself, i have work tomorrow again and i already told you i have a routine." you sighed trying to close the door, frustration growing as the blondes foot wedged in the way.

"then i will stay here, i still have some things in my room." the girl persisted as you shook your head. "you don't need to, and i don't want you to." you replied sharply, though you winced as something thudded behind you.

"oh but you are fine by yourself? who is here with you." alexia's demeanor switched as you kicked at her foot and attempted to shove the door closed but to no avail as your sister easily overpowered your attempts and pushed it open, nearly sending you to the floor as she marched in like a mad woman.

"who is that!?"

you scrambled to your feet and quickly snatched up the four year old who went running toward your sister, sitting her on your hip as alexia stared at you wide eyed and in shock.

"whose niña is this?" alexia stammered out as you sighed and closed the front door. "this is sofía." you introduced, alexia's face softening a little at the shy gap toothed smile the small girl gave her.

"sof this is alexia, she's mi hermana." you introduced back, alexia giving a small wave and melting even further at the way sofía tucked her head into your neck. "since when are you shy pequeña?" you teased, a giggle sounding as you poked at her stomach.

"okay sof, how about you go watch your show while i finish dinner and talk to alexia. if you need anything you come get me or just yell out, vale?" you placed her back down as she immediately hid behind your leg, peeking out at alexia who gave her another wave.

"vale." the four year old chirped, tugging on the hem of your shorts as you bent down to her level, something whispered in your ear making you laugh and tickle her again as she giggled and raced back off to the living room.

"she's one of my friends daughters, her baby sitters sick so i offered to watch her." you explained to your sister who nodded, a little dumbfounded as she followed you back to the kitchen.

"have you been here alone with her all day?" alexia asked with an air of concern as you stirred whatever you were cooking, which your sister wouldn't deny smelt leagues better than anything she made herself these days.

"no, just a couple hours. elena does night school monday through wednesday to get her doctorate, whenever her baby sitter isn't free i watch sofía. normally i'd go to her house but with everyone going on she thought it might be better if i had sof here." you spoke quietly, glancing over your shoulder every couple of minutes to check in on the tiny brunette giggling away at a brightly coloured kids show on screen.

"you look after her by yourself?" alexia asked, shock hardly disguised as you rolled your eyes moving the sauce off the heat and huffing.

"yes alexia, believe it or not i can keep another human being alive for a few hours. i've had enough practice looking after myself!" you snapped, pausing to close your eyes and take a breath.

"i don't want to argue in front of her. i told you i'm fine, you've seen i'm okay, go home alexia, your home." you sighed, turning your back to her again after you'd peeked at the living room over the top of her head.

"fresa i also don't want to argue." your sister started a lot softer as you began to dish up dinner. "you know i want to fix this, alba and i want to fix things." alexia promised as you stayed silent, though before either one of you could speak a new voice piped up.

"you're really tall. way taller than my mami!" alexia jumped a little in surprise as sofía now stood next to her looking up in wonder. "is dinner nearly done?" she shot now next to you, tugging again on the hem of your shorts as you looked down with a soft smile.

"nearly. you hungry?" you questioned as the four year old nodded enthusiastically. "so hungry!" she groaned dramatically sagging against your leg as alexia smiled, suddenly slammed back into the memory of when she and alba would look after you at that age and you too would never leave her alone when she was trying to cook.

one memory in particular sat heavily with the captain as she watched you teasingly shove sofía away and take a test mouthful of the food, groaning loudly and happily as the girl hit your leg and huffed opening her mouth wanting to try for herself.

it was another night where both her parents were working night shifts and a sixteen year old alexia had been left to look after her sisters, alba hidden away in her room taking another one of her teenage angst my life is awful i hate everyone naps she so adored at that age.

alexia had been at training all afternoon, currently playing at Levante, and received the news from the coach that she wouldn't be starting this weekend which now made three weeks in a row.

it had put a dampen on the girls mood significantly, feeling quite lost as to what else she could do to prove herself. she already stayed back, arrived early, trained at home, worked on her skills in every way possible she could but still, nothing seemed to be good enough.

it hadn't helped that with eli only recently picking up night shifts you were still adjusting to the change in your routine, used to your papi not being around after dinner but missing your mami, which lead to you being even more clingier than usual.

"fresa!" alexia huffed as she turned and nearly stepped on you as you hovered by her feet after being sent away a few minutes ago, hugging her leg and refusing to let go no matter what.

"fresa please let go." alexia asked as nicely as she could manage, temper rapidly becoming shorter and shorter as you refused to listen to a single word she said.

first it had been refusing to take a bath, hiding under alexia's bed right against the wall where she couldn't reach you and even going as far as to bite the tip of her finger as she finally grabbed a fistful of your shirt and pulled you out.

next it was trying to drown her in a tidal wave of soapy water when she finally got you into a bath, soaking the clothes she'd not long changed into after her own shower.

but still alexia managed to hold her tongue, speaking to you softly and encouragingly as eventually you sat down and allowed her to wash your hair.

but then you'd ran around half dressed and still wet for half an hour, finding endless amusement in the way your older sister just couldn't catch you, giggling and screaming with delight as alexia resisted the urge to kick you like a football when she finally scooped you up and forced you into the rest of your pyjamas, towel drying and braiding your hair so it was out of your face.

well braiding it as best she could as you'd squirmed and wriggled and kicked, whining that alexia didn't do it right and that it was too tight and then it was too loose and that only your mami knew how to do your hair right.

a full blown tantrum over your hair which took alexia a good half an hour to calm you down again had seemingly tired you out as your sister left you on the sofa with your favourite movie on.

alexia now an hour later than planned started on dinner, stress building as it rapidly neared your bed time and the brunette feared any more disruptions would only worsen your behaviour.

she'd gotten halfway done with dinner before you grew bored of your movie, alexia's attempts to wake up alba to help only resulting in a shoe flung at her head and a door slammed in her face as she resisted the urge to strangle the younger girl.

it seemed the cure to your boredom was to latch yourself firmly to your eldest sisters leg, curling around her like a monkey as no amount of shaking or begging had you letting go.

with all of that happening alexia had almost burned dinner, patience now a thin veil as she firmly yanked you off her leg and placed you down, shooing you away and promising dinner was almost done.

though of course you hadn't listened and immediately returned to hover under her feet now bringing a toy crane your papi had gifted you. and it was the small piece of plastic alexia had stepped on with barefeet, causing her to trip and a hand to shoot out to stop herself from falling.

that hand falling on the stove had meant another wave of pain rocked her body as she hissed and saw red, nearly tripping over you once again as you made noises with your mouth and sat on the floor between her legs refusing to move.

"why do you have to be such a pain! why can't you listen! i said to leave me be and you hover under my feet and trip me and do not go away! go away fresa!" alexia had lost it at this point, flying entirely of a dangerously unbalanced handle as she yelled.

but all of that anger drained from her body in a millisecond like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her head as she watched your eyes well up with tears, crane clattering to the floor.

"no no no hey pequeña-" alexia cooed softly immediately dropping to her knees and reaching for you but you were gone, sprinting away as fast as your small legs could take you as alexia's heart broke and she stood, quickly pulling the pot off the stove and running after you.

she checked your room first in all the usual hiding places but came up with nothing, calling out for you and begging you to come out, apologizing over and over but even in her own room she couldn't find you, worries growing with each passing second.

alba's door now locked she knew that was out of contention, and her body flooded with relief as she stepped into her parents bedroom and caught sight of your leg in the mirror where you'd wedged yourself under their bed.

"fresita." alexia called out softly, her chest aching at the sniffles which could be heard from your hiding spot, the older girl sitting cross legged on the floor and begging you to come out with no luck.

you refused to say a word bar the tiny sniffles and hiccups that left you, sounds of pain which were much too large for a body as tiny as yours as alexia's own flooded with guilt for her outburst.

"hey fresa ven aquí. nena i am so so so sorry for yelling, i didn't mean it promesa. please come out, lo siento mucho hermanita please." alexia continued to beg, leaning down to peer at you under the bed as you caught her eye with another sniffle, rolling over so you were facing the wall and tucking into yourself even tighter.

with a sigh alexia ran a hand through her hair, jumping as a hand landed on her shoulder, surprised to see alba now stood behind her. she frowned a little as the younger girl sat beside her, pulling something from her pocket and placing it just under the bed.

"fresita." alba cooed, voice thick with sleep as you turned under the bed, spotting your favorite chocolate bar sat a few feet away.

as alba noticed your tiny hand reach out for it she placed a finger on top, pulling the treat a little further away as you frowned and wiggled closer, though again it was tugged just out of reach.

this game of cat and mouse continued for a while until the chocolate bar sat on the floor between your sisters and eventually your head peeked out from under the bed cautiously, both older girls smiling down at you.

you watched them for a moment as neither of them made any move to reach for you, aware one sudden movement could be all it took for you to reatreat again.

when they didn't move you slowly wiggled the rest of your body out, reaching for the chocolate and snatching it, both your sisters holding their breath but sighing quietly as you sat up and didn't seem inclined to return under the bed.

"i'll go finish dinner." alba murmured as you struggled to open the chocolate, alexia sending her a grateful smile as she disapeared out of the room.

"do you want me to open it pequeña?" alexia asked softly as you nodded, shuffling a littler closer as your sister took it from your outstretched palm and opened it, handing it back.

as you took a bite this time alexia reached for you, relieved when you put up no fight as she sat you in her lap, arms protectively wound around you and her face buried in your hair.

"tickles!" you huffed as alexia exhaled tiredly, wriggling around as your sister smiled and turned you in her lap, grabbing under your arms and standing you up so you were both eye to eye.

"fresa. i am very very very sorry for yelling and for if i scared you, i am not mad at you." alexia promised as you nodded and her thumb swiped at the tear tracks under your eyes with a pained smile.

"sorry i tripped you." you whispered out, looking down guiltily as alexia's finger tilted your chin back up so your eyes locked with hers once again.

"its okay hermanita, i know you did not mean to. you just miss mami, sí?" you nodded at that as alexia tugged you into a tight hug, peppering kisses along the crown of your forehead.

"i miss her too fresa, but we will get better at this, we will." alexia promised, cradling your head as you nodded into her chest. "but sometimes when mami is not here and i ask you to do something, i need you to do it, vale?" alexia murmered as you pulled your head back.

"vale. sorry ale." your bottom lip wobbled again as alexia was quick to catch the rogue tear with her finger, kissing your cheek repeatedly and carefully standing still with you held tightly in her arms.

"the kitchen can be dangerous sometimes fresa, especially sat on the floor or attached to my leg like a little monkey." alexia warned tickling at your stomach as you giggled and a wave of relief washed over her seeing you smile again.

"you're just my best friend ale and i don't know what to do without you." you mumbled tiredly with a yawn as your head slumped on her shoulder, fatigue clawing at you as it was now past your normal bed time as alexia melted and almost cried, exhaustion hitting her as well.

"oh mi precioso fresa you are my best friend too. forever and ever and ever nena, promesa."

"my mami stabs people! what do you do?" sofía was now stood back next to alexia, smiling up at her clearly no longer as shy as the older girl was flung into reality, blinking a few times as she adjusted and tuned back in.

"elena works with me at the clinic." you quickly clarified with a small amount of amusement seeing the mild horror flicker through the older girls eyes as she registered what sofía had said.

"i play football. do you like football?" your sister dropped down to the girls level, the two of them chattering away and before you could blink suddenly sofía was tugging her away to the living room with her.

you glanced over a few minutes later to see the two of them sat cross legged on the floor, alexia trying to teach sofía some sort of clapping game as you sighed and dished up a third bowl of the meal.

"dinner is done." you called out, ensuring the stove was fully off as within a blink there was an eager four year old climbing up into her chair as you chuckled and handed her a fork.

"you may as well stay, i know olga is the cook anyway." you gave your sister a small smile as alexia did her best not to let a grin overtake her face as she sat down across from the two of you and you slid her a fork.

"gracias fresa." alexia smiled as sofía paused mid mouthful to give you a curious look. "she calls you strawberry." the brunette pointed out as you nodded. "she does, thats my favourite fruit." you poked at her nose as she huffed and smacked your hand away.

"when she was your age all she wanted to eat was strawberries, for every single meal." alexia added on pulling a stupid face at the girl who giggled. "you can't do that silly!" sofía shook her head at you.

"can too, and strawberry milk." you grabbed a napkin and sofía's chin in your hand, wiping the copious amount of food which missed her mouth away as she whined and tried to push you off.

again alexia was hit with a wave of nostalgia, vivid memories of when she sat in your chair and you sat in sofia's, the smile fading from her face as her stomach churned with guilt, somewhat grateful for the small four year olds constant chatter meaning neither you or alexia really had to interact much.

"alexia do you have a football? can we play?" sofía grabbed your sisters hand once she was done helping you clear the table, hitting the catalan with the best puppy dog eyes she could muster not unlike you did all those years ago when you were determined to get your own way.

you caught her eye and the slight raise of her eyebrow, pausing for a moment before sending the blonde a curt nod. "i'll wash up." you declared, dismissing her attempts to offer help as sofía pulled impatiently on your sisters hand.

"sí, i have lots of footballs nena. ven conmigo and you can choose one!"

you'd been keeping a close eye on the pair as they raced and chased one another around the backyard, the summer evening sun starting to fade fast as you dried and put away the last plate.

you'd like if you said it hadn't shocked you a little to see your at times quite awkward sister be so open and care free with sofía, you having caught her earlier chase the small girl around the backyard pretending to be a football eating monster.

you'd be lying to yourself if similarly to alexia watching their interactions didn't bring up any thoughts or feelings toward your own childhood but in no state of mind to unpack that just yet you squashed it deep deep down and refused to acknowledge it.

you were stood on the back steps just about to call the two of them in now the sun was near fully set when it happened.

all it took was a misplaced step and suddenly sofía was falling head over heels, skinning her knee on the brick retaining wall of the small vegetable patch in the corner.

alexia's sisterly instincts kicked in as she raced across to comfort the now crying girl but you beat her to it, quickly lifting sofía up and into your arms as you bounced her up and down.

"hey hey hey nena its okay! you're okay. just a little fall sof, you're okay." you repeated over and over, your sister watching on a little dumbfounded as you hurried inside, alexia grabbing the football and following.

"hey you're a big girl right? big girls get skinned knees! its all a part of growing up sof." you sat her down on the kitchen counter as her cries turned to hiccups and she nodded.

"its okay to cry though nena, its good to cry sometimes! never let anyone tell you you're not allowed to. sometimes tears can be happy as well!" you kept the girl engaged as you cleaned her knee, poking at her stomach and making jokes, her giggling distracting her from the alcohol swab wiping away at the small graze.

"now, i need someone really really special to help me make a very important decision. anyone?" you asked, holding something behind your back and making a silly face, sofía nodding eagerly as her hand shot into the air.

"anyone? does anyone want to help?" you pretended not to notice, looking around as the four year old huffed and alexia smiled softly hovering nearby watching the interaction. "me! me me me!" sofía chanted impatiently as you sighed.

"i guess nobody wants to help!" you threw your hands up and turned to go as a small hand grabbed a fistful of your t-shirt and tugged. "oh! do you want to help me sof? why didn't you tell me!" you teased, jabbing playfully at her sides as she squealed and kicked at you.

"i will help." the girl nodded as you did the same. "okay. mickey mouse, or goofy?" you held up two different plasters as sofía's face lit up and she instantly pointed to the goofy one.

asking her to sit still for a moment you carefully applied the plaster over the small graze, kissing the top of her knee and standing up straight away. "all fixed! i think we do not need to cut this off...yet." you grabbed her foot and inspected her leg with a frown.

"hey!" the brunette gasped as you pulled a shocked face and ruffled her hair, picking her back up again. "bath and bed." you pinched her nose as she groaned but made no move to fight, going limp in your arms as you smiled and kissed her cheek.

"i'm just gonna..." you jolted a little admittedly having forgotten alexia was still here as you noticed her, your sister nodding in understanding.

"don't go yet! i wanna say goodnight." sofía yelled to alexia over your shoulder as the girl promised she wouldn't and took a seat on the sofa, exhaling as she did so, head swamped with a tidal wave of memories, only worsened as she stared around at her childhood home.

alexia hadn't realised how long she'd been trapped in her own mind but what felt like mere seconds later a body was latched to her leg and you were waiting in the hallway, arms crossed and a large wet patch on your shirt where the four year old had gotten a little too enthusiastic with the plastic duck she always had with her.

"buenas noches alexia. it was fun playing with you!" sofía smiled a little more tiredly now, climbing onto the sofa and hugging the older girl tightly who perhaps clung on a second or so too long, flashes of when it was you hugging her goodnight still lingering at the back of her mind.

"it was very nice to meet you nena, remember drive through!" your sister pretended to kick a ball as sofía giggled and copied the action before waving and racing back to your side as the two of you disappeared again.

when you returned around fifteen minutes later now changed into dry clothes and the four year old sleeping peacefully in your bed it wasn't a surprise to see alexia curled up on the corner of the lounge watching something.

you didn't say anything at first as you settled at the opposite end, a somewhat uncomfortable unspoken tension filling the gap between the two of you.

"i assume you are staying the night then." you spoke up first, knowing alexia well enough that when she had her mind set on something it was near impossible to change it.

"sí." your sister confirmed as you gave a small nod. "you are very good with her." the blonde commented next, throwing you a small look as your own eyes stayed fixated on the tv.

"as kids go she's pretty easy." you gave a shrug, tucking your knees up to your chest. "everything you do with her, i used to do with you." and there it was.

"alexia-" you started with a small sigh. "no, fresa i know. we don't need to speak about it, i just wanted to say it. she reminds me a lot of you is all, and i miss it sometimes." alexia admitted, nervous that with one wrong word it might send you recoiling into yourself and off to your room, worsening things.

a beat of silence paused and alexia took that as a silent cue you were done, turning her head back toward the tv.

"sometimes i miss it too."

you'd spoken so quietly you weren't even sure if your sister had heard you, grateful that if she did she chose not to comment on it, the two of you sitting in silence that albeit awkward was a little less tense watching television.

alexia looked up from where she was getting some water in the kitchen at a soft knock at the door, watching you hurry over to pull it open, an unfamiliar girl just visible through the window as alexia leaned against the counter.

no words were exchanged as you lead the girl inside and the two of you returned a moment later, sofia back in her mothers arms as the girl who didn't look much older than twenty two or three loaded her into a carseat.

when she returned to speak with you alexia hadn't meant to eavesdrop and overhear, she really hadn't.

"thank you so so much for this chica, she adores you and i appreciate you." elena sighed pulling you into a hug as you assured it was no problem and you were always happy to help out if needed.

"please don't give me that look." you sighed after you told her you'd see her at work tomorrow. "mateo said you could have the whole week off and with pay! why are you working?" elena told you off firmly but not unkindly.

"i like working." you justified with a shrug, the older girl not buying it as she raised an eyebrow and you deflated a little. "i can't see her like that el, i can't." you whispered out, voice on the cusp of cracking as alexia's eyebrows furrowed from where she stood within earshot.

"she's your mami amiga she would want you there with your sisters, supporting each other through this. not stabbing grumpy old men with low iron!" elena teased with a soft smile as you barely cracked one of your own.

"your sisters are trying, sí? let them try, i am sure that they love you very much." elena promised as alexia was taken aback at her words, the jealousy which had been simmering at the surface of the comfort this stranger was providing you instead of her, easing a little.

"i know. but i can't see her like that, i can't." you repeated with a shake of your head. "why?" elena asked softly, a hand sat on your shoulder with a gentle squeeze as you shook your head.

"you can talk to me about anything chica, you know this. we all love you and are here for anything you need!" your friend encouraged gently, alexia's grip on her glass tightening as she heard the unmistakable sound of you choking back a slight sob before the next words you whispered shattered her heart completely.

"because the last time someone i loved when into hospital, he never came back."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

five

#woso community #woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #🍓☀️

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moonchildxoxx · 7 months ago

Text

Are we a moment, or a lifetime Part 2

A/N: You are responsible for your own media consumption. MDNI 18+

Warning: talk about terminating a pregnancy, Fetus called a baby multiple times, and semi graphic birth scene ( it’s really not that bad)

Pairing: Tsu’teyx human ! Female! Reader

Word count3,673k

Synopsis: it continues right from part one

[ Request are open]

Master List

Rules

[Previous] // [Next]

"We need to keep this quiet" He murmurs, his voice quiet. The last thing she needed was everyone hounding her, demanding answers about this. Mo'at nods, agreeing that this should be kept quiet before turning and going to a small side room, searching for something. He keeps his arms firmly around her , his face buried in her hair as he murmurs reassurances and tries to soothe his own racing mind "It'll be alright"

He repeated, as if he was trying to convince himself more than her. Mo'at re-emerged with a small, woven basket. It was full of various things, but he couldn't see what exactly through the woven cloth She set it down beside him, gesturing for him to look inside. He gently shifted her out his lap for a moment so he could lean forwards, looking inside the basket. His long fingers pull back the lid, his brow furrowed as he looks at the contents. The basket was filled with various things. Some herbs, some berries, and a few other bits and pieces he doesn't notice Mo'at motions to them, pointing at specific things "Make sure she takes these everyday. Some of the herbs will help with the nausea, the berries will help replenish the energy. I will try to find more" Tsu'tey just nods silently, still trying to process that he was going to be a father.

The next few months had gone by slowly and quietly. Tsu'tey had kept her pregnancy a secret, much to the growing frustration of the scientists as she avoided them more. He was almost overly protective of her , following her everywhere and trying to keep her from anything even slightly dangerous or tiring. Mo'at had been of great help, bringing over herbs and berries to help with her sickness and any other issue she had had. But as she grew, it became more and more obvious to the others that something was wrong

She was more tired, her stomach was obviously bigger, and everyone was starting to notice. They tried to bring her to the lab for tests and scans, but Tsu'tey stood in their way, refusing for them to do anything more. He knew they would poke and prod and study her, not even considering her as a person anymore.

He would bring her to Mo'at every time she had even a slight pain or issue, worried that anything unusual was a bad sign. Mo'at assured him that it would be okay, but every time she looked at (Y/N) distended stomach, you could see the worry in her eyes. Tsu'tey was always at her side, his touch gentle and warm. He would soothe her nausea with a few berries and a cool rag, and soothe his own worries by pressing his giant hands against her stomach and talking quietly to you both.

The other's, particularly the scientists, were becoming more and more frustrated at her and Tsu'tey's secrecy, getting more demanding and more desperate to get (Y/N) in the lab. Tsu'tey's temper was wearing thin and he eventually snapped at Max when the scientist tried to force her in for a scan. It had been a long day, and she was feeling particularly exhausted from being on

her feet all day. Tsu'tey had taken her to the lab to work on a project with Max and Norm, but she was starting to feel faint. Max had tried to gently persuade her into the medical room, saying it was just a quick check to make sure everything was going okay and that it would only take a couple minutes. Tsu'tey had lost his temper and shoved Max aside, forcing him to get away from her. "No" He snaps, his voice low and quiet. His golden eyes almost glow with anger as he glares at Max. She'd never seen him this angry. He turns to look at (Y/N), the anger leaving him immediately as he looks at her face. Her face was pale and her hands were shaking from the effort of staying upright. Tsu'tey instantly steps in to support her, gathering her in his arms and gently holding (Y/N) against his chest. Max was frustrated , his jaw

clenching. "I don't see why we can't just do a quick scan. We don't have to do anything invasive, it's just to check everything's going well" Norm intervened

"Max-" But Max cuts him off, his eyes locked on Tsu'tey

"it's literally our job to collect data" "And what are you going to do when you get that data and if you don’t like it , huh?" Tsu'tey snaps back, his whole body tense.

"What if you get some readings you don't like, what then, huh?" He keeps one arm firmly wrapped around her , holding her to his chest while he glares at Max, almost shaking with anger "If the fetus is unhealthy or showing signs of abnormality, then it may need to be terminated-" Max keeps going but Tsu'tey doesn't even give him the chance to finish the sentence before his fist clenches at his side, his knuckles turning white even as he holds her with his other arm "There will be no 'terminating'" Tsu'tey practically growls that last word, his body practically shaking with anger "This baby is not a data point. It's not an experiment. It's our child" Max's eyes narrow, but he holds his hands up "okay, fine, it's your child. But don't you think a scan could be helpful? I mean we can find out the gender, we can see how it's developing-" (Y/N) cut him off “ Tsu'tey I want to go home” In an instant, all of Tsu'tey focus switches to her.

He instantly notices how pale she was and how tired she looked, and gently scoops her up in his arms, holding her against his chest. He shoots another glare at Max and Norm as he starts carrying her out towards their home. He practically ignores her protests, gently shushing her and murmuring reassurances as he carries her back to their home. As soon as they got home, he carefully set (Y/N) down on the soft, woven pile of blankets that served as their bed. He carefully lowers himself down behind her, pressing up to her back and gently wrapping an arm around her waist. He nuzzles his face into her neck and breathes out a long, slow breath, finally letting his guard down for a moment

He presses his hand gently to her stomach, his long fingers splayed across her skin. He can feel the swell of her belly, the bump of the baby inside. He kept his eyes closed as he breathed her in, nuzzling his face against her. She nuzzled back ,she was exhausted

He tightened his grip around her waist as he pulled her even closer against his chest. He can tell she was tired, her whole body shaking with exhaustion. His lips pressed against the back of her shoulder as he tried to soothe her. She fell asleep on him. He feels (Y/N) relax against him as she sleeps , her breathing slowly evening out. He keeps his arms around you, holding her tight against him and burying his face into her hair

He stayed awake, watching her face as she slept. His mind still races, but his mind is calmer than it was earlier. Now she is here, safe and sound and asleep, he can finally allow himself to properly relax. She stayed asleep. He stayed awake for a while longer, simply watching her sleep. He gently pulls the covers up around her, making sure she is properly tucked up and comfortable. After a while, he slowly feels himself start to doze off too.

She slept till early morning. The sun raised slowly, filtering through the woven shelter and casting it in a soft, warm glow. Tsu'tey slowly wakens a few hours later, opening his eyes to see (Y/N) ace softly lit by the morning sunlight He slowly sits up, propping himself up on one elbow as he looks down at her. She was starting to stir, her eyes fluttering open. He watches her for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he watches her wake "Good morning" He murmurs gently, reaching out to brush his fingers gently over her cheek He lets his hand cup her face, his calloused fingertips gently tracing over her skin, as if he was trying to commit every little part of her to his memory She nuzzled him. He feels her nuzzle against him, and his smile widens slightly. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He lets his arms wrap around her, pulling her close against his chest as if he can't get close enough to her. Her skin is warm against his, and he nuzzles against her hair and the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her. He feels his own anxiety from the other night ebb away, replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest. She gently grunted " I want this baby out " she muttered. He couldn't help but let out a small huff of a laugh at her comment, his chest rumbling with a quiet chuckle. "I know, I know" he says, his hand gently rubbing her stomach. She lay back yawning again. He follows her down, lying back with her as he continues rubbing her belly. He can feel the baby moving under her skin, shifting around inside her .He leans in, gently pressing his lips to her stomach He murmurs against her stomach "your mommy is getting impatient with you" He lets his lips linger, pressing soft kisses against her skin. She laughed softly " hey you would too if you carrying a watermelon He smiled up at her, his lips still against her stomach "You're right, I would" He glances down at your belly again "it's your fault, you know" he jokingly murmurs to the baby "You've given your mother a difficult time" He gently starts massaging her stomach, his hand large enough to span almost all of it at once His fingers gently rub in soft circles, as if he's trying to soothe the baby as well as her. He can feel the taut skin of her stomach under his fingers, still stretched tight around the bump (Y/N) started to doze off again. He notices her starting to fall asleep again, and he can't help but smile a little. He knows she’s tired, and knows she needs the extra rest. He nuzzles against her stomach again, then leans in to press a kiss to her cheek "get some sleep" He gently pulls the covers up around her, making sure she is warm and comfortable. He shifts to lie behind her, his large, muscular body pressed up against hers as he wraps one arm around her waist and pulls her close

The next month or so passes in a similar fashion, Tsu'tey being overbearing and overprotective.

Every time she not feeling well, he's at her side, and he's constantly trying to keep her from getting tired or exerting herself As her due date approaches, he gets increasingly apprehensive and nervous, spending almost every minute at her side and fussing over every small issue she had until she hit a breaking point. “Why don't you go for a short huh?" (Y/N) suggested He glances at her, raising an eyebrow. His first response is to protest and say he doesn't want to leave her, but he can tell she was feeling smothered and fed up with how overprotective he's been, and he sighs "You really want me to?" “ I think it'd do you some good besides I'm not leaving our marui" He lets out a small huff of a sigh, knowing she was probably right, and reluctantly nods "Alright, alright. I'll go" he says, already missing her before he has to leave. She nuzzles him. He nuzzles her back, letting his forehead rest against hers for a moment "I'll see you later" he says softly, before reluctantly pulling away from her and grabbing his bow. She grabbed her tablet and read for a little while before taking a nap. It takes a few hours before Tsu'tey comes back to the marui. He's carrying a couple of fish in one hand, He sees her lying there with the tablet and a part of him relaxes, relieved to know she hasn't left the marui like he was afraid she would, She was curled up asleep in the nest. He sets the fish down, before gently laying down beside her. He tries not to disturb her, as he knows how tired she had been. But he can't help gently nuzzling his face into her hair, breathing in her familiar scent

He lets out a soft sigh as he wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her close against his chest. He can feel the bump of her stomach against his , the baby growing more restless and running out of space in her belly. He gently shifts himself to where he's lying behind her, spooning against her back and resting his hand on her stomach. He lets his fingers rub in gentle circles against her skin, hoping to soothe not just the baby but her as well

As her due date approaches, Tsu'tey becomes more and more stressed and restless. He spends every single minute of the day by her side, refusing to leave her unattended at all. He has nightmares nearly every night while he's supposed to be asleep, about the baby being born dead, or dying soon after, while she is bleeding out and fading right before his eyes. He'll occasionally wake up in a cold sweat, but tries to stay quiet to avoid waking her up. He stays as quiet as possible as he pulls her closer to him, his arms wrapping around her and holding her tight against his chest. He buries his face into her hair, trying to calm his hammering heart and steady his breathing

(Y/N) hummed in her sleep nuzzling him. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, his nose pressed against her skin. He lets himself breathe in her scent, taking in just how alive she was. He can feel her heart beating against his, the steady thump of it calming and reassuring him. He lets his hand rest on her stomach, feeling the bump of the baby. They've gotten so big, it's easy for him to feel every kick and squirm they give. He can't keep the smallest smile off his face as he feels them stirring inside her, but the anxiety and stress over the impending birth is still weighing down on him

He tries to shake himself out of the dark thoughts, instead focusing on the baby. He rubs her belly in small circles, silently praying to Eywa that it goes well, that everyone will be okay. He tries to keep his voice soft and quiet, but he can't stop the quiet words from leaving his lips as he murmurs against her skin, "please let it be okay, please let them both be okay..."

He keeps his nose against her skin, breathing in ragged breaths as he tries to will himself to sleep.

But the dark dreams keep coming back, the images of the baby crying out weakly as she slowly fade away, the blood staining his hands and clothes, the image burned into his mind. His grip around her tightens as he shakes those images away, nuzzling against the nape of her neck. He wills himself to think of happier things, of the baby being born healthy, of the first time he will get to hold them, of the joy that would bring.

It had been a long, hard few months . (Y/N) had been monitored by Mo'at carefully, and Tsu'tey was more overprotective than usual, watching for any signs of distress.

The days ticked by, slowly approaching the moment. She was laying back on a sleep mat Tsu'tey by her side keeping her up. Mo'at knelt between her legs, guiding her through the process. She was gripping Tsu'teys hand tight. He was kneeling beside her , leaning his head on her as she squeezed the life out of his hand. Mo'at occasionally spoke, encouraging her to push and reassuring her that she was doing well "Good, good, push. You're doing so well" Mo'at's voice was as encouraging as she could be, trying to get her to do what was needed. She could already make out the head. Tsu'tey pressed his forehead against hers , his fingers intertwined with hers . "You're doing so well, you're perfect" He breathed, his breath hot against her skin as he tried to distract her from the pain "Nearly there, you're nearly there. Push again" Mo'at knew it would be hard, but she also knew (Y/N) was strong. "That's it, you're almost there" (Y/N) cried out, the pain intense and burning. She couldn't do it anymore, she felt like she was going to pass out. "I can't, I can't-"

"Yes you can, you're doing so well" Tsu'tey assured her, his free hand moving to the side of her face, trying to soothe her , she let out a low, guttural sound, gripping Tsu'tey hand even tighter. The pain was nearly blinding now, and she was exhausted but she was almost there. So incredibly close. "One more push for me, come on child. You're doing so well" The encouraging words from Mo'at spurred her on, gritting her teeth as she used all her strength to push one last time. The push seemed to last forever, but the moment it was done, a soft wail filled the air. The sound of a baby crying.

Mo'at smiled, gently picking up the baby and holding them in her hands. A moment later, Tsu'tey raised his head from (Y/N) shoulder and looked at the baby

"Is, is it-" he couldn't form a coherent sentence. His chest was heaving and he was shaking from the adrenaline.

“It's a girl" Mo’at's words were said softly, her voice quieter than usual as she spoke. A girl, a beautiful, perfect little girl. The crying baby was placed on (Y/N) chest, still covered in birth fluids and the cord looped around her. You could see the pure disbelief and love on Tsu’teys face. He was in shock "Congratulations"

Mo'at's normally sharp voice was quiet, a small smile on her face. She reached out and patted (Y/N) thigh gently "You did well, child”.

Tsu’tey leant over her , his lips brushing against her forehead, his breath hot against her skin. "You did so well" He murmured, his voice cracking slightly as he looked down at the little squirming baby in her arms.

The baby seemed to calm as she held her, her crying ceasing and being replaced with little sounds like tiny chirrups. He reached out and stroked a finger down the baby's cheek, his touch as gentle as he could. He couldn't believe how small she was, this tiny little baby, this perfect little thing .Tsu'tey raised his head again to look at (Y/N). She was exhausted, and covered in sweat and blood, but she never looked more beautiful to him . “She’s perfect” He murmured, his voice a mix of awe and tiredness. He carefully sat down on the ground next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. The baby was still in her hold, and she could feel the protective way Tsu’tey was wrapped around her (Y/N) nuzzled her baby. The baby squeaked under her affection, her tiny limbs wiggling again as she let out a soft sort of purring noise. Tsu'tey watched the two of you with a soft expression, his fingers tracing small circles on the baby's tummy

"What are you going to name her?" Mo'at's sharp voiced interrupted the moment, her eyes on her and Tsu'tey as she watched (Y/N) with the tiny baby

“Kamari " Tsu'tey's eyes flicked away from the baby and over to her, a quizzical look on his face "Kamari?" He repeated, tilting his head a little as he tested the name she nodded, a satisfied smile on her face. It was the first thing that popped into her mind when she looked at her. Tsu'tey thought about it for a moment before giving a small nod "Kamari.." He said again, his eyes falling back down to the baby in his arms. "You like that, little one?" Kamari gave a small noise as if she was agreeing with her father. The baby wrapped one of her tiny hands around Tsu’teys finger, gripping it tightly. Her hand was so tiny, yet her grip was remarkably strong. Tsu’tey chuckled breathlessly as he gently tugged his finger, watching her not let go with an adoring look in his eyes “Oh you're totally screwed " spoke (Y/N) Tsu'tey gave her a side eye, his mouth tilting up in a small smirk "What do you mean by that?" He asked, his thumb tracing soft circles over the back of Kamari's tiny hand "She's got you wrapped around her little finger". "She's not the only one, you know" He murmurs, his eyes flicking up to look towards her, that smirk on his lips. Then his gaze falls back to the baby in his arms, his expression immediately softening Kamari let out what sounded like a little squeak, her tiny fingers grasping onto her father's finger with her surprising strength. Mo'at chuckled quietly, crossing her arms as she watched Tsu'tey interact with the baby

"You're in trouble already, Olo’eyktan “ Tsu'tey huffed in response to Mo'at's comment but didn't disagree. He knew exactly what she meant, He was completely enraptured, this little girl was the perfect combination of you both. He knew he was falling in love already . The baby let out a tiny gurgling sound, wiggling its tiny little arms as it snuggled against (Y/N) chest.

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butmakeitgayblog · 8 months ago

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god that gif set goes so crazy every time, no one is doing it like them. Heda wanted her SO. BAD. ‼️

Listen I get it ok. I was there in the camp of losing my fucking mind when this happened. But man I just... it's a shame that we get so lost in the gay sauce over this moment —

— that we really don't give enough credit to the rest of what's going on

Cuz like,,, at no point was Lexa actually afraid of Clarke. She'd just had her storm her ass into her tent in the midst of a hissy fit while holding a gun to a warrior's back, and Lexa's only response was to be offended that her makeup regimen got interrupted

Literally the girl was not fazed beyond just, "... what the fuck 😒?" And you know that because Clarke continued following her around the tent while they argued, HER PISTOL STILL VERY MUCH IN HAND, and the whole time Lexa is just flat out sassing tf out of her.

I just cannot stress enough how not at all intimidated by Clarke Lexa was.

But when Clarke called her out on her facade of having no feelings? When she blatantly called her a liar for pretending that she didn't care about the losses of her loved ones as deeply as she clearly did???

That's when Lexa's demeanor changed.

That's the moment Clarke became a danger.

Not because she ever thought Clarke would physically hurt her, but because she knew in that moment that Clarke actually saw her.

And it terrified the hell out of her.

Because you have this strong, fearless warrior. One who has accepted the reality of her own death since she was a child. One who has done everything she can to push away everyone and anything that makes her feel vulnerable. One who has spent years trying to bury all these feelings that she's convinced herself are a weakness.

And then this smartass, reckless, blonde little 👏menace👏to👏society just takes the very boot that Lexa had given her, and kicks the whole thing down.

And you see that in that moment. Not a fear for her safety or any intimidation of Clarke. You see that brave little toaster trying to keep it together while feeling the entire house of cards come tumbling down.

Because she already cared about Clarke. She admits that only a moment later. Because she is emotionally flailing here.

Desperately clinging to this mask with her normally regal tip of her chin that now only manages to come off shaky and unsure.

Every step she backs up is another piece of that facade falling, but she can't stop it because if she lets Clarke actually touch her, then that facade wouldn't just fall.

It would completely shatter.

And oh, oh this sweet summer child. She tries so valiantly one last time to save herself. Back pressed against the table, and clinging to her belief that to be alone is to be strong. But that snarled "Get. Out." through beared teeth and trembling lips is nothing more than the death rattle of that mantra, because the damage has already been done. Because the second Clarke even begins to include herself in that people that Lexa says she doesn't care about, Lexa immediately has to correct her.

Cuz the jig is up, and she knows it. Clarke has invaded her lands, stomped her way into her personal space, and terrifyingly made a place for herself in Lexa's very fragile heart.

And there was just nowhere left to run.

#anon #clexa #lexa kom trikru #the vid is mine but the gifs are borrowed obvs and they're lovely #you can tell the vid is mine cuz it's potato quality 🥴

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scissorcentral · 1 month ago

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Abby with a reader who's just •_• bug eyed and silent lmao, very oblivious to everything, always in their own world, but very endearing and sweet to abs <3

Abby with a more silent reader-

warnings- (there aren't really i don't think)

-Abby literally thinks you are the most adorable human being ever. Whenever you space out during group discussions, she literally can't help but laugh to herself before slinging her arm around you and holding you against her until you come back to reality (because of course you're always directly next to her).

-If anyone tries to make little jokes or tease you about your speaking habits or anything about you, she will shut them up so fast you literally won't even have time to notice. It gets a point where nobody even thinks about trying because Abby will either clap back, aiming to destroy their ego, or give them the most insane death glare. Like the type of look that could kill, and it probably could if she tried hard enough.

-You can't help but mess with her fingers and drift off sometimes and she literally will have like hearts in her eyes as she watches you. You're completely silent just running your fingers all over her hands and she will just watch in awe with a soft blush on her cheeks. She's literally enamored by you and whatever you do.

-Whenever you are out on patrol together, she ALWAYS makes sure to keep an eye on you no matter what. She knows you can get a little off track, your mind sometimes wandering causing you to wander a bit to. After her dad's death she refuses to lose you so she makes sure to never let you out of her sight as long as she can help it.

-Sometimes you guys will sneak off and find a building with an accessible roof and you will just sit for hours. Sometimes you guys won't even speak, and other times Abby will talk for the entire time as you listen to every word she says. Sometimes its rant and other times it's some stupid store that sends you both into a fit of giggles. Her main goal is always getting some laughs out of you which she always does, rant or not. She lives for the sound of your laughter.

-Her dream is to be able to see the world through your eyes. How you are able to get through most of your days without talking or talking so little. How you can be so oblivious to things but also so insightful to other things. She is so obsessed with you and how you go about your life. She wishes she could know what it's like, but even though she really can't she does everything in her power to understand you.

-Before you guys got together, Abby had been literally in love with you, but you never noticed her advances. She would get so angry, like screaming into her pillow angry. It would make her so embarrassed how pathetic she'd get but she still continued to try. Eventually you caught on after she had to be so extremely blunt. Now the whole thing is something she just teases you about, but your obliviousness is something she has grown to completely love. It's so cute to her now(it wasn't cute when she was putting her reputation on the line with her extremely obvious advances(well obvious to everyone but you))

-If you ever get lost in your head she's always there to try and ease you out. It becomes a thing she is really good at. Holding you close to her, her thumbs rubbing softly over your skin, light kisses on your temple. It's sweet and something you become incredibly grateful for. You will always show your appreciation by leaving a new coin on her nightstand that you had secretly found on a patrol.

-Abby makes it her fucking mission to see you smile. Whatever she has to do she will do (which can be a little concerning). She thinks your smile is the cutest thing in the world and would literally die to see it once more.

-If anyone in the stadium says legit one negative word about you, she will lose it. Nobody is allowed to talk bad about you. Ever. She is so extremely protective of you. You're her everything. She knows you aren't classified as a "completely normal person" by everyone's else's standards but that's why she loves you so much. The way your eyes will glaze over slightly when you space out, the way you'll just stare at people when they send you a backhanded compliment, and the way she's the only person who gets to hear you speak and even then, it's usually quiet whispers. You've got her completely whipped. You got the Abby Anderson completely and utterly whipped.

notes- Hi. I am actually horrified to post this as I haven't written and posted on Tumblr in multiple years so it's weird to be back. This is such shit, but I hope you do enjoy. To me this writing feels like a fourth grader who just learned a few new vocab words but whatever. I'll probably go back and fix it and add more but I'm still having a crisis from just writing this so we will see. Hope you like it.

(also i didn't know how to word the title but i tried.)

#abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou2 #abby x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson x reader #the last of us part 2

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marril96 · 1 month ago

Text

Mirrors

Chapter 1: Shattered

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: Your plan to talk about your and Agatha's strained relationship is put on hold when she collapses after hiding a serious injury.

Editor: @fruityhahn

The latest Trial — your very own — had taken a lot out of you. You were exhausted, your eyes yearning to close and sleep the events of the day away.

The first two Trials — Jen and Alice's — were difficult to get through, had even cost you a coven member and gained you a new one along the way (who just happened to be Agatha's ex girlfriend, but neither one of you was ready for that conversation), but they were nowhere near as anxiety-inducing as yours had been.

If not for Agatha talking you through the entire thing, offering encouragement despite your strained relationship, you never would have been able to pass it.

"That was… something," you said as the two of you walked down the Road.

The rest of the Coven was a good way ahead, too lost in chatter and laughter to notice the two of you had fallen behind.

Not that you cared — Agatha even less so. You wanted some alone time with her, a chance to talk about the day's events. A chance to approach the elephant that had been in the room since before the Road had even come into existence.

You'd tried to broach the subject multiple times, to no avail. Agatha had shut down each of your attempts, claiming she needed to focus on the situation at hand — the Road that shouldn't exist; the Trials she'd had to bullshit her way through; the boy whose name nobody could hear, who may or may not have been Wanda Maximoff's son. The topic of before — of your relationship, of the things you'd both done to fuck everything up — would be dealt with later.

Only, later never came. There was always something new, something more urgent that demanded her attention. In classic Agatha fashion, she avoided, avoided, avoided. Why deal with a problem when she could pretend it didn't exist? Why confront it when she could deflect? Why talk when she could just… not?

It was one of her most irritating traits. You knew she was just trying to protect herself, that all she wanted to do was hold back the pain — as temporary as it was — that inevitably came with such conversations, but that didn't make it any less frustrating.

She should know by now that she was safe with you. That her hurt and tears were safe, never to be exploited or used against her. That, as scary as it was to open up, she had nothing to be afraid of. You had never harmed her on purpose, and never would.

On purpose being the keyword.

What you'd done by accident — or rather, what you hadn't done — was the root cause of the issue.

"It sure was," Agatha said, nervously looking around, her hands firmly placed in her pockets, no doubt gripping the fabric tightly between her fingers.

"Thanks for having my back in there," you said. Then, with a smile, you added, "Literally."

At one point, near the end of your Trial, the mirrors in the posh, castle-like room you were stuck in had started shattering. Agatha, having noticed the cracks forming, had leapt and thrown herself over you just as the first mirror had exploded.

She'd held you in her embrace, her body a shield from the flying glass, until the commotion had stopped, and the door, red as blood, leading back to the Road had appeared amidst the pale white walls.

Agatha shrugged, feigning indifference, nonchalance. "I just didn't want us to have to resort to summoning another backup witch."

You knew her better than that. "Right. It was more practical to save me."

"Exactly."

You sighed. She was a horrible liar when it came to things like this. The truth was written all over her face, woven into her voice, a tattoo that she wasn't even trying that hard to conceal. She knew that you knew the truth, that you could see right through her thinly veiled bullshit, and she didn't care.

She could always shut down and walk away from this conversation. She could always say something new had demanded her attention. She could scream at you to leave her alone, that, after what you'd done, you didn't deserve a heart-to-heart.

So far, while clearly displeased by the direction the conversation was taking, she was playing along.

You decided to make the most of it.

"Agatha." You made sure to say it in that way that told her enough was enough, that you needed to talk like adults. That avoiding it was a tantrum you were losing tolerance for.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes straight ahead, refusing to meet yours. "What?"

"We need to talk."

"Do we?"

"You know we do."

Agatha swallowed. She straightened out her coat and pressed her mouth into a line that would be cute if it wasn't frustrating. Her own little way of rebellion, one you knew all too well.

If she couldn't avoid the issue, she could pretend it wasn't there. She could pretend that she didn't see what was right in front of her, that she didn't hear the words spoken right beside her ears.

You weren't going to let her.

Noticing she's fallen behind, you stopped in your tracks and turned to look at her. She was pale as a ghost, her lips a purplish color that looked unsettling even under the Road's odd lighting.

"You okay?" you asked for your own peace of mind. Surely, she couldn't have dreaded the conversation that much.

Agatha frowned, uneasy at being asked. People usually didn't check on her. Nobody cared how the infamous Witch Killer was doing.

Nobody but you.

"I'm fine," she said abrasively. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You look a bit pale."

She scoffed. "This place doesn't exactly do wonders for one's complexion."

Fair point.

"You're sure you're okay?"

"Just peachy."

As soon as the words left her mouth, her left hand — her dominant one — shot out to grab onto your arm. Her fingers, unusually pale, deathly cold to the touch, dug into your flesh. Her nails, long and sharp as talons, cut crescents into your skin, pinching, almost drawing blood.

"Agatha?"

She responded by finally allowing her eyes to meet yours. The glassy, haunted look in them sent a concerned shiver down your spine.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

Agatha pulled in a breath to steady herself. "N-Nothing, I'm-I'm fine."

In contrast to her words, her grip on you tightened. She could lie all she wanted; her body never did. Not to you.

"Don't do that. Tell me what's wrong."

She forced a chuckle. "Why? So you can leave again?"

You flinched as if slapped. Was that seriously how she wanted to play it? You'd done wrong here, of course you had, but she didn't get to twist it. She didn't get to rewrite history as if it was an article that needed revision.

She didn't get to strike that low while you were already on the ground.

"You're the one who left!" you snapped, sick of her nonsense. Waiting for days to let it all out, wild and free from the constraints of your self-control.

"And you didn't follow!" Agatha shot back.

She was right.

You didn't follow.

You'd stayed home and waited.

And waited.

You'd cried yourself to sleep for many nights, thinking she'd left you for good. Thinking, in the years that had followed, that she'd shacked up with someone new and had forgotten all about you.

She had forgotten you, but not out of choice. Not out of want.

All she needed was for you to come and get her.

Yet you never did.

"How long are you gonna keep punishing me for that?"

As if you weren't punishing yourself enough. Every time you were alone with your thoughts, the unpleasant reality hit you like a pile of bricks straight to the face. Agatha was there, locked inside her own mind, begging for help, but it never came. You never came.

Even if she were to ever forgive you, you would never forgive yourself.

"I'm sorry," you said with tears in your eyes, begging to be let free. "For the thousandth time, I'm sorry.

You could say it a million more times — it wouldn't change what had happened. Nothing could ever possibly change it.

Agatha breathed in, taking in your words. Swishing them through her head like a mouthful of water.

"What do I have to do to get you to forgive me?"

If she could find it in her heart to forgive you, to absolve you of your infraction, maybe, eventually, you would be able to try to forgive yourself. Maybe this pain, this hurt that ravaged you from the inside — that had been ravaging you since Agatha had shown up at your door with Teen, pissed as high hell, demanding answers — would subside.

Just as Agatha took in a few resolving breaths, preparing to respond, her right knee gave way and she tumbled forwards.

"Oh, my god," you breathed as your arms, led by instinct you'd grown into over your centuries together, leapt up to catch her.

You pressed her against you, holding her upright as tightly as you could, even as the full weight of her on you threatened to topple you both.

"Sweetheart, what's going on?"

"It's n-n-nothing." Her voice was strained, tired, as if she were forcing the response out. As if each and every word that left her mouth scorched her throat.

You grit your teeth, frustrated. Exasperated by her stubbornness, by her complete and utter refusal to talk, even at times like this.

"Agatha, please, talk to me. Let me help."

"I d-don't…" The words died in her throat. She tried to raise her hands to push you away, to get you to let go, but her arms, as deathly pale as her face, remained hanging at her sides. Dead. Useless.

"It's okay. I got you," you assured her, nuzzling her neck like you always did when you held her. "You can hate me all you want. I'm not letting you go."

"I don't hate you," she uttered weakly, as if it took all of her to force the words out. Then her head fell against your shoulder, and her body, limp, unusually heavy, slumped against you.

It took everything in you to remain on your feet. Your grip around her tightened, squeezing her to you. Pressing her against you as firmly as you could.

"Agatha? Agatha?" you called, but no response came. No words. No grunts. No moans. Just deadly, deafening silence.

Blood ran cold in your veins. This wasn't good. Whatever was going on, Agatha wasn't doing well.

"Sweetheart, please."

Something sticky engulfed your hand that was pressing against her side. You raised it to inspect it, and your eyes widened at the substance glistening under the Road's dim lighting.

Blood.

Scarlet. Warm. Vibrant.

So much of it that it soaked through her coat.

The smell of pennies clung to your tongue, so thick that you could taste it.

"Oh, god!" you exclaimed, your heart racing as you stared at your smeared hand, at the blood coating your skin. Blood that shouldn't be there. Blood that Agatha didn't tell you about. "Guys! Help! Please, help!"

The coven, far up ahead of you, turned their heads and looked back, startled from their carefree conversation.

"What happened?" Teen said, the first one to run towards you, having sensed the urgency, the sheer panic in your tone.

"Agatha's hurt," you whimpered through tears that drenched your face and obscured your vision. You kept your arms firmly around Agatha, focused on keeping her upright, on making sure whatever injury she had wouldn't be made worse.

"What? How?" Teen asked, worried, as Alice bent down to examine the bloodstain on Agatha's coat.

"She protected me when the mirrors shattered."

She'd more than protected you. She'd shielded you. Had taken on the impact of each and every shard of glass. Had grit her teeth and beared it. All for your sake. For your safety. As strained as your relationship was, the last thing she wanted was for you to get hurt.

She'd risked her life for yours.

"I didn't-I didn't know she got hurt. She didn't tell me." You swallowed a hard, heavy lump in your throat. Shook the tears from your eyes. "Why didn't you tell me? Why?"

Because she didn't want to show weakness. Because this was yet another problem she could avoid and ignore until, eventually, she no longer could. Until the pain became too much and her body had lost too much blood to keep her on her feet, and she collapsed in your arms.

With Lilia and Alice's help, you lowered Agatha to the ground, gently, carefully. The other witches removed her coat and raised her shirt, exposing her back. Her skin, usually smooth and silky, was speckled with cuts of various shapes and sizes, as if someone had marked her with a thin, red marker. On her right side, just below her ribs, blossomed a large, bleeding wound.

"Oh, my god," you gasped, bewildered at the sight.

It had to have hurt like a bitch. Why didn't she tell you? Why didn't she ask for help? Why did she think she had to bite back the pain and suffer in silence?

Alice pressed her hands over the wound, closing it as much as she could. "This is bad. We have to stop the bleeding."

"Jen, can you do something?" you asked.

The witch in question stared, unmoved, unbothered. As if the scene before her didn't faze her a single bit. As if she didn't have it in her to care.

Agatha was easy to hate, easy to leave for dead.

Loving her, on the other hand, was difficult. Challenging. Near impossible for most people.

Not for you.

Never for you.

"Do the thing you did with Teen!" you shouted; an order, a command. Leaving no place for debate.

The woman you loved was bleeding out, and there was nothing you could do about it. Your skills, your magic, everything you knew and had was useless. You were useless.

The only one who could do something,who could help her in any meaningful way, was Jen.

"Please!" you begged, holding on to Agatha, whose head was resting on your lap, as if your life depended on it. As if she would disappear if you were to let go. "Don't let her die. I know you don't like her, but please help her."

As much bad blood there was between them, Agatha didn't deserve to die. Not like this.

She didn't deserve to be abandoned again.

"I'll owe you," you said through sobs that, no matter how hard you tried to suppress them, kept coming, one after another. Choking you. Suffocating you. "Please."

Jen sighed, then shook her head. "You know how this works. Water. Moonlight."

Lilia jumped at the task, Teen following in her stead.

Rio watched the scene unfolding before her, amused, like a cat playing with her food.

As your brain registered her presence, you bent over, hiding Agatha from her line of sight. As if that would do anything. As if anyone could ever hide from Death, herself. "You stay away from her! You're not taking her!"

Rio smiled, the picture of innocence. As fake as the Road that you were on.

"Stay back!"

She raised her hands in mock defeat and walked away. Alice and Jen shot you a glance, baffled by your outburst. You must have come across as hysterical. The new girlfriend, jealous of the ex who just happened to join you on the Road. Too lost in panic, in concern to think straight.

They didn't know who — what — Rio was. They didn't know that she wanted Agatha dead. They didn't know their history.

A long time ago, Agatha had filled you in on everything that had transpired between them. Their failed relationship. The loss of her son. You'd never seen her cry as much as she had that day; not before, and not since.

Everything that had transpired between them was still a gaping wound on her heart and soul; forever to bleed, never to close.

There was nothing you could do to make that pain go away. Nothing you could do to lessen it, to soothe that never-healing ache. The woman you loved more than life itself would forever bear that pain.

The only thing you could do was not add to it.

Today wasn't Agatha's day to die. You would be damned if you let Rio try to speed the process along.

You closed your eyes as Jen started chanting her healing spell, your arms firm around Agatha. Please, work, you begged as your tears dripped onto her hair, onto her deathly cold cheek. Please, stay with me. I can't lose you.

You would forever regret the three long years you'd spent without her.

She never should have stormed out that day.

You should have followed after her.

She should have told you she was going to Westview.

You never should have thought that that was it, that she was done with you for good.

Agatha said she didn't hate you. You hoped it was true, that it wasn't delirium brought upon by blood loss. There was still hope for you to make things right. To make her forgive you.

If she didn't — couldn't — that was okay with you. You could live with that. So long as she lived.

It would hurt, probably forever, but you would learn to deal with it. You would learn to live without her, as you had for the past three years.

All that mattered was that she kept her life. Even if she wasn't in yours.

As Jen finished her spell, Alice removed her hands from Agatha's injury, allowing Teen and Lilia to pour the enchanted water over it. You allowed yourself a peek, squeezing Agatha's shoulder. Please, work. Please. Please. Please.

You held your breath as Alice, as tenderly as she could, brushed her hand over the blood, smearing it away.

Revealing perfect, untouched flesh underneath it.

You released a long breath, relief flooding your veins like a long-awaited high.

The spell had worked.

The wound was gone.

"Thank you," you whispered, loud enough for Jen to hear. Hoping she knew how much this meant to you. How much you appreciated it. "Thank you so much."

You pulled Agatha closer, holding her tightly against you, rocking her back and forth like a sleeping child. She was still as cold as a corpse, but she was no longer bleeding. Her breathing, while shallow, was steady. Her heart beat in a healthy rhythm.

"She'll be okay, right?"

You needed someone to tell you that she would. To assure you that the worst had passed.

Lilia laid a tender, comforting hand on your shoulder. "She's strong."

"She has to be okay.

"She will be." It was a statement of fact. A promise. Her tone leaving no room for doubt.

You believed her.

"She's lost a lot of blood," Alice said. "She needs rest."

You gave a small nod. Agatha would get all the rest her body required. She would be warm and comfortable. Safe from any further calm.

Anything she needed, she would get.

You would make sure of it.

"Jen, I owe you."

The witch in question shook her head and allowed a small smile to graze her face. "You don't owe me anything. Agatha, on the other hand…"

The others chuckled at the remark.

You didn't have it in you to join them, Agatha's condition the one and only thing occupying your scrambled mind. You needed to look after her. To tend to her until she opened her eyes and uttered one of her sarcastic remarks that would be insulting to anyone who didn't know her enough to know she meant it with love.

Right now, that was all that mattered.

Anything else could wait.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos @fruityhahn @midnight-lestrange @lift-heavy-be-gay @katieswain123 @riovidalharkness @revleftshark

*****

Next chapter.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness #aaa #agatha all along #marvel #mcu #fanfic #fanfiction #my fics #edit

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girlgenius1111 · 1 year ago

Text

always want you

ingrid x mapi x reader

with mapi injured, and ingrid running herself ragged with the team, r does everything she can think of to take some of the stress of them. she neglects herself in the process though, until an injury forces her to slow down. she doesn't take it very well.

You'd truly never been so stressed in your life. Your to do list felt never ending, and it was your own doing. Obviously, you'd taken on more at home, cleaning, laundry, and cooking, when Mapi had gotten hurt. She was still on crutches weeks later, and still incredibly needy. It had been manageable, with Ingrid helping you take care of her. The teams demands had a huge impact on Ingrid, though, as she tried to figure out her new role in the squad. She'd been doing amazing, something you and Mapi reminded her everyday, but she was so tense all the time, constantly thinking about how she could improve. She wasn't used to being relied upon at this level by the team, and she was struggling to handle it, you could tell.

You'd taken more and more chores off her hands, unable to sit back and watch her fight through tears cooking dinner after another long day, until you were insisting on her doing the same amount that Mapi was allowed; nothing. It was completely self imposed; either one of them would be happy to help you, but you wouldn't let them.

They were aware of how much you were doing, trying to help you with it all, but the more they pushed, the more you pulled away. They needed you, both of them, and you couldn't let them down. You couldn't need them back, not when there was so much to do.

You were having a rough time playing too, not that you'd ever admit it. You felt like you weren't playing well enough, not scoring enough, not good enough. You were training more, exhausting yourself. It was inevitable, really, that you would get hurt. You were overworking yourself, and you weren't invincible. Realistically, it should have happened sooner, and it should have been muscular. You'd taken a shoulder to the head during the last game, ending up with a concussion. You were more angry with yourself than your team had ever seen you, convinced that you should have avoided the body falling on top of you.

Half the team had tried to make you feel better after the game, and none of them were successful. It was a home game, so Mapi was in the stands, and Ingrid drove the three of you home. You were completely silent the whole way, Ingrid and Mapi talking quietly in the front seat while you sat in the back, fighting dizziness and pain in your head. You were spacing out, thinking about the laundry that really needed to be done, not even noticing when Ingrid pulled into the driveway.

"Y/n?"

You turned your attention forward, seeing both of your girlfriends anxious faces looking back at you. It was obvious that it was not their first time trying to get your attention.

"Yeah?"

"We're home, corazón," Mapi said, eyes searching yours.

"Right, yeah." you mumbled, moving to get out of the car. They followed you, Mapi taking longer with her crutches. You'd barely taken a step when you wobbled, dizziness taking over.

"Easy, elskling," Ingrid said, holding you upright.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," you insisted, shrugging out from her hands. She looked like she wanted to disagree, but the dizziness had passed, and you didn't look at her as you grabbed both of your bags out of the back, heading inside. You held the door for her and Mapi, lost in your thoughts, missing completely the way both of their eyes lingered on you as they passed.

Both you and Ingrid had showered in the locker room, and your girlfriends were looking forward to a lazy night on the couch. Both of them collapsed onto the couch once inside, looking expectantly at you to join them. You wanted to join them, you really did. Snuggle up right in the middle, in your spot. It was so appealing, Ingrid's curly wet hair, smelling of coconut, Mapi's warm sweatshirt. You wanted to bury yourself in between them, and never come out. Of course, you didn't. Instead, you put your bags away, eyes scrunched as you tried to get used to the light, heading into the bedroom to get a load of laundry going.

"She's going to make herself sick, Ingrid, especially with this concussion," Mapi said quietly.

"I know," Ingrid sighed. "I don't know how to get her to listen, though, you know how off she's been recently. She won't let me help."

"Try Stern Ingrid, that usually works," Mapi suggested. Ingrid schooled her features, throwing Mapi a glare, making her snort. "Perfect." She assured the Norwegian.

You're heading back out of the bedroom, laundry basket in hand, when Ingrid rises from the couch and stops you in your tracks, a soft hand resting on your shoulder.

"Leave the laundry, love, come relax with us. I'll do it tomorrow." Her words are kind but her tone leaves little room for argument. You're the most stubborn person she knows, though, and she's not surprised when her first try is unsuccessful.

"No, I got it," you said, attempting to move past her. Her hand tightens on your shoulder, and you roll your eyes, again trying to shake her off.

"I'm serious, elskling, you don't need to do that tonight. You need to rest."

"Listen to Ingrid, princesa, come relax with us," Mapi chimed in, peaking over the edge of the couch at you.

"I don't have time to relax," you said, finally pulling free of Ingrid and stomping towards the washing machine. She's faster than you, no doubt in her mind that you're reaction time is slower with your concussion, grabbing the laundry basket out of your hands, and holding it behind her back when you whirl around, scowling. The fast turn ends up being a mistake, as the world tilts and spins around you. You sway, squeezing your eyes shut. Ingrid drops the basket carelessly, reaching out to steady you. You allow it for only a moment, even briefly leaning into the contact, before you pull back, a frustrated noise leaving your mouth.

"You need to sit down, y/n, now." Ingrid says, moving closer to you.

"NO!" you yelled, startling both girls. Mapi's never hated being so immobile before; your face is scrunched in pain, hands clenched tightly into fists at your side, and you look so exhausted, it makes her chest ache.

"I don't need to sit down, I need to get this done. I don't have time to relax, do you not understand that? There isn't enough time in the fucking day for me to do everything I need to, and you guys are only making it harder," you shouted, voice still raised.

Ingrid and Mapi stare at you for a minute, stunned. You never yelled. Ever. Neither of them were really sure how to respond. Ingrid took a chance, walking forward and grabbing your wrist, before pulling you towards the couch. You fight her grip again, but it's unrelenting, and she points at the couch, looking at you with one raised eyebrow.

"Ingrid-"

"-No. Lay down. I'm not asking."

Your tears finally escape, sliding down your cheeks as you give up, sitting on the edge of the couch, spine completely straight, as if afraid to let yourself relax. Ingrid is grabbing your legs before you know it, pulling them up on the couch, while Mapi guides your head into her lap. She's in the corner of the sectional, and you fit perfectly against her, both of you able to recline.

"I can't-" you try again, although you don't try to move.

"Yes, you can. Don't move." Ingrid warns, before disappearing into the kitchen.

Mapi ran her fingers through your hair comfortingly, occasionally wiping away the tears falling from your eyes. Ingrid returns with some pills and a glass of water, and you follow her unspoken instructions, swallowing dutifully, before sinking back down into Mapi's lap. Now that you've laid down, you aren't sure you'd be able to get back up, even if you wanted to. It's quiet for a couple moments, none of you quite sure what to say.

"Let's go to bed, yeah?" Ingrid says quietly, and you shrug noncomitally. You move off Mapi, allowing her to slowly make her way into the bedroom, sitting up with your head in your hands on the couch.

"Can I just have a second, please?" You whisper, resisting Ingrid's insistent attempts at eye contact. The Norwegian hesitates, before leaving a kiss on the top of your head, and following Mapi down the hall.

You feel horrible, wracked with guilt. They were just trying to help you, and you'd shouted at them for no reason. They needed space from you now, you're sure. Being around them is intoxicating, almost always makes you fold, makes you break. The distance now, though, allows you to refocus, and you force yourself to pull it together until you can be alone again. You take a few deep breaths, wiping your face off on your shirt, and walking down towards the bedroom. You stop in the doorway. Mapi is laying on the bed, eyes on you, while Ingrid has her back to you, rifling through her pajama drawer.

"I'm gonna sleep in the extra bedroom," you say, unsuccessfully trying not to let your voice crack, showing the emotion you are valiantly attempting to hide.

Both girls' heads snap to look at you, and they speak in perfect unison. "No, you are not."

You can only shake your head, biting down on your lip, not willing to cry in front of them, not when you were in the wrong.

"Princesa," Mapi coos, holding out a hand towards you. "Please just come get in bed."

"No, it's okay, you guys need space from me, you definitely don't want to be around me right now," you say, beginning to ramble. Ingrid silently moves closer to you, taking your face in her hands. Her thumb delicately swipes a tear off your cheek. She feels her own eyes welling with tears as she takes in the agonized expression on your face.

"We never need space from you, my girl. Come get in bed. Please." Ingrid states, tone almost begging, not that she cares. You don't move, and Ingrid takes the opportunity to guide you over to the bed, sitting you on the edge, before tossing you some pajamas. You change into them mechanically, both your girlfriends watching you closely, watching the way your eyes stay stuck on the doorway, as if you're about to bolt any second. You stay on the edge of the bed, until Ingrid climbs onto her side, and gently tugs the back of your shirt. You turn towards her, eyes still downcast.

"Are you sure?" you mumble.

"Yes," they assure you, again speaking at the same time. Your body is stiff as you scoot up the bed, sliding under the covers in between them. You make yourself as small as possible, curling up on your side facing Mapi. It's quiet in the room, the only sounds audible being the occasional uneven breath, occasional sniffle from you. You've kept your eyes shut, not feeling capable of looking either of them in the eye right now.

Ingrid moves slowly, at first just splaying a hand across your back. You're so tense it looks uncomfortable, and she moves closer, curling herself around your back, larger body enveloping yours.

"Relax, baby." she whispers in your ear. The contact is pushing you closer and closer to the edge of a breakdown, one you aren't even sure you don't want anymore. You relax slightly into Ingrid's body, and only then does Mapi move, sliding down and propping herself up on her elbow, free hand tracing lightly over your cheek. She leans forward after a minute, lips lightly leaving a kiss on your nose, then one on each cheek, one on your forehead, and finally, one on your lips. When she pulls away, you grip onto her shirt, taking a deep, stuttering breath.

"I can't," you start, trying to get them to leave you alone. Don't they understand that if they keep being so soft, so kind, you'll break?

"Yes, you can. You don't need to be strong all the time. We're here, you can just let go." Mapi says. You shake your head stubbornly.

"Come on, love. You don't have to pretend around us," Ingrid promises. "We want you even when you are sad."

You aren't sure if you just reach your breaking point, or if her last sentence pushes you over the edge, but you let out a harsh sob, pressing your face into the pillow under you. Ingrid clings to your back, feeling your body shake under her. Mapi moves forward again, allowing you to bury your face in her chest. Your cries are muffled now, squished between your two favorite people. You have no control, no ability to stop yourself from falling apart in front of them.

They're support is unyielding, though, neither of them moving away from you for even a second. You're soaking Mapi's shirt with tears, but both of them are whispering soft reassurances to you, ones you try to let yourself hear. You cry for a while, long enough that your head is pounding, though that might be from the concussion, and your throat feels raw. You don't really remember stopping, either. You must, pathetically, have fallen asleep whilst crying.

Ingrid and Mapi hear your breathing even out, tears having finally stopped falling down your face. The Norwegian looks up at your other girlfriend, then, looking devastated, and Mapi sighs roughly, reaching a hand over to cradle Ingrid's cheek.

"It's not your fault, Ingrid,"

"I shouldn't have let her do everything, and I should have noticed she was struggling." Ingrid whispered, looking down at you like you're the most precious thing in the world, and she's broken you.

"Then I should have too, but you don't blame me, do you?"

"You have one working leg, María, I'm completely fine, yet I let her go crazy taking over everything in the house." Ingrid argued miserably.

"Don't pretend you haven't been stressed too, Ingrid," Mapi said sternly. "You don't get to blame yourself. That won't help her, and it won't help you."

"How do we help her?" Ingrid asks after a minute, looking between the two of you.

"We get her to talk. Something is going on, or she wouldn't be acting so weird. And I've never seen her cry this hard." Mapi swallows thickly. "We get her to tell us what's bothering her, and we fix it."

Ingrid gets the impression that if you told Mapi that going to the moon would make you feel better, the Spaniard would find a way to do it. She softens at this thought, heart overwhelmingly full looking between the two of you. Even though your face is stained with tears, and Mapi's leg is wrapped in white gauze, there isn't a more beautiful sight. Not to her.

"Sleep, princesa," Mapi tells her, leaning over you to kiss Ingrid softly on the lips. "Te amo." She leans down to you, kissing your forehead as you sleep, whispering the same thing against your skin.

Ingrid does the same, pulling you closer into her body as she gets comfortable. It's harder for Mapi, but she manages to shift so that she's on her back, head tilted so her face is pressed into your shoulder. You wake up, just slightly, at the movement around you.

"Love you," you mumble, deciding that both of them are going to have to make do with not being addressed specifically. You relax back into them, the stress and anxiety that had been plaguing you for weeks unable to touch you while you slept, completely surrounded by your girls' love.

-----

You're confused when you hear the sound of an alarm, and are then shaken awake what feels like only a couple hours later. Grumpily, you crack your eyes open, seeing Mapi's face above you, hidden by darkness.

"Why?" You groan, shutting your eyes again. Mapi laughs quietly.

"You have a concussion, amor. Just needed to check on you."

"Hmph," you grumble. If you were more awake, you'd marvel at the fact that they remembered to wake you, even after the way you'd acted. Even with Mapi's knee messed up, definitely needing rest, her first thought was always you.

"Are you feeling alright? Nauseous? Dizzy?"

"I'm fine. A little dizzy."

"Promise you are okay?" She asks, smoothing your hair back.

"Promise." She nods, satisfied, and you roll into her, keeping a tight grip on Ingrid's shirt on your other side, drifting off again.

-----

They wake you a few more times throughout the night; each time you are annoyed at first, and each time they are so gentle, so kind, you feel like a wave of love is washing over you.

The next morning, when you blink your eyes open, seeing light flooding in around the curtains, you hear them speaking lightly to each other over you. The light is making your head pound, and you let out an involuntary groan of pain, pulling the covers over your head. They're conversation cuts off, and you can picture them exchanging looks.

"Amor?" Mapi asks, concerned.

"Too bright. Hurts." you say, having woken up only seconds ago, unwilling to really form full sentences.

There's some shuffling, and then someone is pulling insistently on the covers. You allow them to be pulled off your head, and frowning up at Ingrid and Mapi through half shut eyes. They're both fighting smiles at your disheveled hair, and the grouchy expression on your face. Mapi slides a pair of sunglasses onto your face, and you thank her quietly. Ingrid moves to slide out of the bed, but your hand pulling on her shirt stops her.

"Stay. I'm comfy."

"You don't want coffee?" she asks, expecting you to relent.

You shake your head though, and she looks at Mapi briefly, before climbing back into the bed, and pulling you into her. You sigh contentedly, burrowing in.

Something has changed, your girlfriends can tell. Your breakdown last night has left you clingy- not that they mind. It's just worrying, as you rarely act that way.

"Princesa," Mapi begins. "Can we talk about last night?"

You stiffen noticeably against Ingrid, rolling away from her chest to stare up at the ceiling.

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you guys, there's no excuse."

"Thank you for apologizing, elskling, but that isn't really what we're talking about." Ingrid chimes in, her voice quiet and low, as if she's talking to a cornered animal.

"I'm sorry I lost it, I don't know what happened."

Both girls shake their heads. This time it's Mapi that responds.

"Please do not apologize for having emotions, amor. You needed that, and we were happy to be there for you."

Your eyes shift to hers. "What is there to talk about then?"

Ingrid rolls her eyes, as your attention is on Mapi, at how little weight you put on your emotions and wellbeing. If her or Mapi had broken down like you had last night, you'd be worried sick.

"You're taking on too much. You need to let us help you, it's too much for one person, and both of us are completely capable of doing chores."

"You guys have a lot going on, I'm barely doing anything." You argue weakly.

"You know that isn't true. This has to stop, it's not sustainable. You're exhausted, and now you're hurt. We're putting you on bedrest for the next week." Ingrid says. It has an air of finality to it, but you try anyway.

"But-"

"-No arguments." Mapi cuts in.

"You guys need me." You say quietly, trying to get them to understand why you needed to do this stuff for them.

"We do. We need you happy, and healthy. And you need us too, love. It's your turn to let us take care of you."

"I've been in a horrible mood, I wouldn't even want to be around me. And I don't deserve- need to be taken care of. I'm fine." You pause briefly, biting your lip, trying to decide if you should voice the thing thats been bothering you the most. "If anything, I need to work harder, I've been playing so badly."

Your voice breaks on the last word, and you shut your eyes again, reaching under the sunglasses to furiously wipe a tear away. A hand grips your chin, turning your face towards Ingrid. She has a intense blazing expression on her face, one of anger, and you're honestly confused.

"First of all, we always want to be around you. Second, you absolutely have not been playing badly. You've been working so hard, darling, and it's been paying off." You scoff in disbelief. Ingrid's jaw clenches, and she looks at Mapi almost helplessly, as if she isn't sure what to say. The Spaniard is turning your face towards her now. Mapi's warm eyes bore into yours through your sunglasses, begging you to listen.

"You always deserve to be taken care of, princesa." You winced, you'd been hoping they wouldn't catch that slip up. "Even if you had been playing badly, which you absolutely haven't, you still deserve our love, amor. Always."

"Then why don't I feel like I do?" you whisper.

"Oh, love," Ingrid says sadly, leaning in to rest her lips on your forehead, leaving several pecks there. "I don't know why, but I promise that you do."

"We'll just have to remind you more, hmm? That you are our niña bonita, and we always love you. We always want you, and want to give you what you need. Okay?" Mapi finishes.

Hesitantly, you nod. Their anxious faces break into smiles at your agreement, and they both lean in, pressing simultaneous kisses to your cheeks. You laugh, feeling their matching grins against your cheeks, and wonder how you possibly got so lucky.

-----

I tried to end this like 16 paragraphs ago but I was unsuccessful.

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #mapi leon x ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x ingrid engen

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ashwhowrites · 2 years ago

Note

Can you please write something where Chrissy continuously tries flirting with Eddie just because she doesn’t really like you (which she makes known every time you’re even in her general area) and thinks she’d be a better match for Eddie. Fortunately in the end, Eddie chooses you because you’re the love of his life and Chrissy is just some girl he liked in high school

Please please please?

You have asked with a lot of "please" so I will. I hope this is what you were looking for. I did tweak it a little where Eddie never liked Chrissy in the first place, so I'm sorry about that change

Never proofread

~~~

Y/N had a crush on Eddie Munson ever since she first saw him. She was a grade below him so they never had classes together. She'd watch him during lunch, drooling over his sweet eyes, soft nose, and kissable lips. She had a crush on him since last year when she accidentally walked into hellfire. She was searching for her class when she walked into the wrong room. Her eyes connected with his. He looked at her confused as she looked lost. He directed her to the right class but he never left her mind after that.

And now? She was part of hellfire, all for the purpose of the leader. She took the time to learn how to play and create her character. That doesn't mean she knew what she was doing. When she first joined she lied and said she's played countless times, but once he asked what her class and statistics were, it was clear she had no idea of an answer.

For the past few months, Eddie has been tutoring her on how to play. He said she couldn't be part of Hellfire until after she learned some more. Which she was fine with, alone time with Eddie standing behind her as he leaned down to point things out? God, she was in heaven.

The more she spent time with him the more she grew confident in flirting. She liked him, and he seemed to enjoy having her around. From what she has heard, Eddie doesn't care to talk with "sheep." And he didn't accept new people in Hellfire, but she must have been different. He must have liked something about her.

She'd scoot closer, always resting her hand on his thigh. Giggling at all his jokes and softly smacking his arm. She'd compliment his rings, running her fingers around his hands, slipping off his ring, and putting it on herself.

Their DND dates turned into real dates, sitting in his van as they shared a milkshake. Talking about everything other than DND. Some of the dates ended in making out.

Practically dating at this point, just not official, Y/N felt herself growing irritated at Chrissy's obvious advances toward Eddie. It was like she appeared out of nowhere. Squeezing herself in the way of her and Eddie.

Y/N hated to admit it, but it made her jealous and insecure. Chrissy was a cheerleader, popular, and knew how to have guys wrapped around her finger. And Y/N was just a girl a grade below that learned to play DND to impress her crush.

Eddie Munson had a cheerleader flirting with him, what kind of chance did Y/N even have.

Since Y/N was a member, she got to join the Hellfire lunch table. She sat next to Eddie, always sharing her lunch since Eddie only packed a snack and his drugs for his deals. Between lunch, hellfire, their DND study sessions, and small dates in his van, they were never too far apart. But Chrissy began to change that.

~~~

Eddie had his arm thrown over Y/N's shoulder as he walked them to his van. Hellfire ended late and he offered to bring her home. They were talking about the campaign as they walked through the parking lot. Only to be stopped when Chrissy bounced in front of them.

Chrissy's blue eyes stayed on Eddie and Eddie only. Not acknowledging Y/N's presence at all.

"Thank gosh I caught you, Eds, could you help me with my car? It's not starting and I really need to get home." A pout on her lips as she asked.

"oh yeah, of course." Eddie smiled. Eddie was a nice guy, no matter what people thought.

Chrissy smiled and ran off to her car, Eddie took his arm off of Y/N's shoulder and handed her his keys.

"Okay to wait for me in the van, gorgeous?" He winked as the keys landed in her hand. Y/N hated that the nickname and wink made her whole body burn.

"I'm okay to wait, Eds" a little more aggressive with the nickname than she hoped. Quickly walking to his van, praying he didn't hear the change in her voice.

Eddie watched her to make sure she made it into the van, once she shut the door, he turned and made his way to Chrissy.

Y/N hated but also was happy she could see them from his van. Her eyes burning as she watched Chrissy flirt with him the whole time. She couldn't make out words, but she could read body language. Chrissy was facing Eddie completely, leaning in close to him as he talked, probably about the car. Chrissy was twirling her hair, smiling the whole time, and never once looking away from him.

Once she tried her car and it began to run, she jumped out and threw herself in his arms. He looked caught off guard but hugged her back. Y/N hated the twisting in her gut.

Then she watched as Chrissy leaned up and kissed Eddie's cheek. Y/N decided that was enough for her eyes to see. Turning her attention to her backpack, pulling out her notebook and going over today's campaign in her head. Her eyes caught sight of the random doodles Eddie drew as they played. Her attention shifted when the driver side door opened and slammed shut.

Y/N greeted Eddie's arrival and put away her notebook. Her eyes catching as Eddie placed a piece of paper in his cup holder. Black ink written with a phone number and heart. Y/N felt her heart sink.

"I see you got the cheerleaders phone number? That's quite big." Y/N said, clenching her jaw as she tried not to sound incredibly jealous.

Eddie shrugged it off, starting to pull out of the parking lot as he said, "Just in case she has car troubles again, she wanted me to recognize her number."

But Y/N knew that was not the reason Chrissy gave Eddie her phone number.

"Oh.... car troubles." She mumbled to herself.

~~~

And she was right. Over the past few days, Chrissy flirted more with Eddie, still ignoring Y/N's existence.

Y/N was on Eddie's lap, his hands holding her hips as she rocked against him. Her tongue twirled with his as they panted into each other. Eddie moaned at the taste of her tongue, moving her hips faster against his growing bulge.

His lips began to move down her neck when his phone started ringing. He pulled away with an apologetic smile, lifting her off of his lap and setting her on the cushion next to her.

She cleaned off her lips and watched as he fixed his jeans and walked towards the phone.

"Chrissy? Hey."

Y/N could feel any sort of good mood she had just vanished. The urge to roll her eyes grew stronger with every minute.

Eddie wrapped up the call and returned to Y/N's side. Smirking as he went to grab her hips again when she shuffled out of his reach. He eyed her closely.

"What's up?" He asked, resting his hand on her thigh.

"So I see she just calls whenever now" Y/N huffed out, she wanted to sound calm, but she was failing. She could practically watch the wheels turn in his head.

"Um yeah, sometimes about random stuff. Is that upsetting you?" He asked, and he was genuinely asking. She could tell he wasn't teasing or mocking her. But it made her feel stupid to even answer. What would she say? Oh yes, you taking the pretty cheerleader's phone number is making me jealous.

"Nope, I'm fine." She brushed it off

"You sure? You don't seem fine." He tried, and that was a mistake.

Eddie watched as she jumped off the couch.

"My god! I said I was fine. I don't care that Chrissy flirts with you, rubs your arm during school, and giggles at your jokes at a lunch table she's not even supposed to be part of. I don't care that she calls you while we are in the middle of making out. I don't fucking care!" She snapped, slamming the door on her way out.

Eddie was quick to race after her. She sat on the ground, picking at the grass as he walked down his trailer's steps.

"Didn't make it too far." He tried to joke, but all she did was shrug.

"I realized you were my ride." She mumbled to herself.

"How about we talk about what just happened, and then I can take you home." He offered, sitting next to her.

"Nothing to talk about. I said I was fine." She said, turning to him with what she hoped was a convincing smile.

"Okay well even if you are fine, I would still like to talk about it. We were having a good time before Chrissy called and after that, you stormed out." Eddie explained

"Sorry that I don't feel like making out after precious Chrissy called." Y/N snapped.

"See! That right there. You are not fine. Chrissy upsets you....and it's because she flirts with me?" Eddie questioned.

"Look, I know it is stupid so can we just forget it? " Y/N sighed. She just wanted to go home and forget about this whole conversation.

"I never said it was stupid." He said softly, grabbing her hand that was yanking the grass and holding it in his lap.

"I just got jealous." She finally confessed

"Why?"

With that question, she felt like she could have smacked him.

"Why? Jesus Eddie, do you even pay attention? I fucking like you, I joined Hellfire to spend time with you. And we started getting closer and then Chrissy showed up with her perfect eyes, perfect smile, and perfect everything and just swept herself on in. How am I supposed to compete with that?" She rushed out, and the grip on his hand grew tight.

"Who said you had to compete with her?" Eddie questioned her, a teasing smile on his face.

She scoffed and shook her head, "Come on Eddie, it is between an average girl and a cheerleader. It's obvious who you will pick."

"I don't think I made it obvious enough, otherwise we wouldn't have to have this conversation."

"What?" Now she was confused.

"There is no competition, there is no Chrissy and I. You are wrong about everything. It's not between an average girl and a cheerleader. It's my girl and my girl only. I like you. I broke every rule I set about Hellfire just to let you join. I don't notice her, I never did and I never will. But I've always noticed you and I always will. If you so desperately want me to pick between my girl and just a cheerleader, I pick you." He spoke softly, practically whispering at the end of his speech. His hand cupped her jaw as he tilted her head to look at him.

She wasn't sure what to say so she didn't try. Just reaching up to press her lips against his.

After a few minutes, Eddie pulled away. "Will you be my girlfriend? Let me show you it's just you and you only."

"Yes," she whispered and pressed her lips against his again.

Maybe the competition was in her head all along, either way, she was in Eddie's arms and that's where she wanted to be.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @slightlyvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergent @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson request #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #ashwhowrites

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bigfootsboytoy · 2 years ago

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Robin is positive that Steve isn't straight. At first, she thought she was projecting. Maybe she just wanted to share another aspect of herself with her best friend, but no. She's very confident now. The way Steve acts sometimes makes it so obvious. He's listened to her talk about how scary it is, being a lesbian in a town like Hawkins, and he talks to her about it like he undertands, even if he doesn't realize it. She roped him into watching a movie with a gay couple in it, and Steve's eyes lit up seeing two men kiss on screen. He once cracked a joke about going on a date with a guy that sounded far too sincere to be a joke. She knows, deep in the depths of her very soul, that Steve is a little bit queer.

And she could prove it if she could just figure out what his type is

She's been doing research, real genuine research into what male celebrities are considered hot. Finding movies with said supposedly hot men and making Steve watch them with her. But there's nothing! No reaction, not even the slightest blush when Harrison Ford was sweaty and shirtless right before his eyes. It isn't until she gets him to watch Rocky Horror that she finally catches something. Tim Curry in all his fishnet-clad glory brings a flush to Steve's cheeks. One that gets even worse when the character dons a leather jacket halfway through. It isn't much, but it's enough.

She mentally tallys everything about Tim Curry in that movie. Dark eyes, curls, makeup, tights, and especially the leather. She tries not to get her hopes up too high, knows that Tim Curry was wearing feminine clothes and makeup in the movie, so maybe Steve was just thrown off and confused, but it's a start at least. She makes a new list of movies, and pays close attention to his reactions.

The real breakthroughs come with The Lost Boys and The Breakfast Club. Lost Boys had been planned, one of her choices designed to illicit a response from Steve. Lots of pretty boys, some with dark curly hair, some with big dark eyes, and quite a few wearing leather jackets. Steve had been interested, that was for sure, a lot more than he had in the other movies she'd shown him. The Breakfast Club was a surprise. It had been one of Steve's picks, and Robin hadn't even been paying close attention. But it was impossible to miss the way Steve's eyes shot to the screen every time John Bender was speaking.

So, Robin has an answer. Steve Harrington liked bad boys. Men with dark hair and dark eyes, clad in leather with attitude for miles. Not what she had been expecting, but she's delighted, to say the least.

The delight only grows when Eddie Munson comes into their lives, and she gets a front row seat to Steve Harrington's Big Gay Meltdown. Eddie ticks off all Steve's boxes. Dark curly hair, big brown doe eyes, leather and denim from head to toe, and he has the attitude. But he checks off other boxes too, ones Robin hadn't even realized existed. He checks off the 'great big nerd' box. Because when she thinks about it, yes. Steve surrounds himself with exclusively nerds. He checks off the 'good with kids' box effortlessly, to the point that Robin almost screams when she hears Steve telling Nancy about his six kids and a winnebago dream, because Eddie basically already has part-time custody of Steve's weird gaggle of gremlin children. He tickes off the 'queer as fuck' box too, if Robin's judgement is any good, and she was pretty sure it was. The bandana in his pocket seems like a pretty good sign, if the zines she had smuggled on a family trip to Indy were to be trusted.

Eddie Munson is perfect for Steve, in every way possible, Robin is sure of it. So needless to say, shes thrilled when Steve finally, FINALLY pulls her into the crappy little bathroom at Family Video and asks her how she realized she was gay. This is going to be the start of a beautiful little journey for them both, Robin is going to welcome it with open arms.

Part 2

#steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #Robin Buckley #Platonic Stobin #Robin is already wingmanning steve before he even realizes he likes men #And she certainly doesnt miss the way Eddie blushes when they watch Indiana Jones as a group #and Shirtless Harrison Ford is on screen #ficlet #steddie ficlet

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wbbfannnnnn13 · 5 days ago

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Almost, Always - Chapter 10

paige x azzi

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

A/N - Here it is, chapter 10!!! I know I'm putting you through it readers, but I told ya'll this series was going to be full of angst... I love reading unexpected twists and turns and just feeling like characters have to work and fight through things to get to the fluff so that's how I approach writing :) from here on out, chapters will probably come out slower, I do have a life and things to do despite what last week showed lol

WC: close to 3k Theme: angst, that's it...

Chapter 10 – Mixed Signals

Azzi hadn’t meant to wait so long. She told herself she needed space, time to clear her head, but as days passed, the silence between her and Paige began to thicken into something heavier than she'd anticipated. It wasn’t out of anger, and it wasn’t meant to be cold—it was hesitation, wrapped in confusion, threaded with guilt she hadn’t fully admitted to herself yet. Each day that passed without responding made it harder to reach out, even though the ache to hear Paige’s voice only grew stronger.

She wasn’t angry anymore. That emotion had burned hot in the beginning, but now it had cooled into something heavier. Not rage, not resentment—just a low ache. Unresolved. Restless. Something that sat behind her ribs and made everything else feel quieter. And maybe that was harder to carry.

She sat on the edge of her bed, scrolling through headlines she hadn’t asked for, refreshing her notifications out of habit. Her name. Paige’s name. The stories were still circulating—photos, old videos, reaction threads, podcast commentary from people who didn’t know them at all, but acted like experts on their love life. The photo of Paige leaving that restaurant lingered in her mind more than she wanted to admit. Azzi didn’t recognize the woman beside her. She wasn’t from their shared circles, not a teammate, not someone Azzi could place. That unfamiliarity unsettled her. It wasn’t jealousy exactly, but something sharper, more complicated. A quiet unease that clawed at the edges of trust, whispering questions Azzi didn’t want to ask out loud. What if there was more to that night than Paige let on? What if Azzi had been foolish to assume it meant nothing? And even though she hated the thought, it stuck, threading doubt into the silence that still stretched between them.

She unlocked her phone, opened their text thread, and stared at the last message from Paige: I just want to hear your voice.

Azzi's thumb hovered over the screen. That one sentence hit her harder than any headline or comment thread ever could. Because the truth was, she wanted to hear Paige’s voice, too. More than anything. But the longer she avoided it, the more it scared her. How much damage it might have already done. She knew her thoughts would only spiral the longer she stayed quiet, feeding doubts and questions she couldn’t answer alone. If she didn’t speak soon, she risked letting her fear speak for her, and that terrified her more than anything Paige could say.

The irony wasn’t lost on her—how she’d once begged Paige not to let fear dictate their love, not to hide from the world, not to retreat when things got hard. And now here she was, paralyzed by her own. Caught in the same silence she’d once accused Paige of clinging to. It made her feel like a hypocrite, and worse, like maybe she wasn’t any stronger than the fear she’d tried to pull Paige through. Maybe she’d underestimated just how heavy the weight of outside noise could be—how much harder it was to hold love steady when the world kept trying to knock it loose. But if she’d learned anything from watching Paige push through that fear, it was that silence only grew heavier the longer you let it sit. And Azzi had let it sit long enough. Whatever uncertainty she still carried, Paige didn’t deserve to carry it alone. So she took a breath, pulled out her phone, and opened their thread.

Her thumb hovered for a second, then typed.

AZZI: I didn’t answer because I was trying to process everything. I needed space to clear my head, but I know that’s not an excuse. I’m sorry for going quiet on you, for shutting you out when I should’ve said something sooner.

A beat passed. Then another.

AZZI: Are you okay?

It took less than a minute for the reply to come through.

PAIGE: Just thankful to hear from you. I miss you, Az. Can we talk later tonight? I’ve been going a little crazy not hearing from you, if I’m being honest.

AZZI: I miss you too. I'll call you later, promise.

Azzi’s chest tightened. The thought of hearing Paige’s voice again made her eyes sting. Guilt pressed in with it, heavy and sharp. She should’ve answered sooner. She should’ve called, even if she didn’t know what to say. Her mind flicked back to freshman year, a different kind of silence, another time she’d ignored Paige on purpose, but for a completely different reason, all to pull off a surprise visit for her birthday.

She’d spent the whole morning hiding out on campus, coordinating with Paige’s roommates, trying to make it perfect—texting in group chats, sneaking in through a side door, even bribing one of Paige’s teammates to keep her distracted for a bit. Meanwhile, Paige had been a wreck.

Azzi still remembered the steady stream of texts from Nika lighting up her phone as she hid in the stairwell just outside Paige’s dorm room.

NIKA: "Yo, you better get here soon. Paige is spiraling."

NIKA: "She’s pacing like a caged animal. Keeps checking her phone every 30 seconds."

NIKA: "I swear if she asks me one more time if your phone died, I’m gonna throw mine at her."

Azzi had stifled a laugh, clutching the cake box tighter to her chest.

AZZI: "Tell her to chill. I’m literally at the door."

NIKA: "Good. Because I can’t take any more of her ‘What if Azzi’s mad at me?’ whining. She’s dramatic as hell."

Azzi had paused for a second, heart full. She hadn’t meant for it to be a big thing. Just a birthday surprise. But now she could picture Paige on the other side of the door—worried, restless, overthinking.

She slipped quietly inside, creeping down the hallway until she reached the door to Paige’s room. When she pushed it open, Paige turned around so fast it startled her—wide-eyed, tense, like she’d been bracing for something else entirely. The look on her face was etched into Azzi’s memory: relief crashing into disbelief, like she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Her shoulders dropped, her breath caught, and for a second, she just stared—like Azzi wasn’t real until that moment.

“I thought you ghosted me,” Paige had said, breath catching. “I was about to call the FBI.”

Azzi had grinned, holding up the cake. “Surprise?”

Paige crossed the room in seconds, pulling her into a hug so tight Azzi thought her lungs might give out.

“Never do that again,” Paige mumbled into her hair. “I was going out of my mind.”

Azzi laughed softly. “Noted.”

They’d spent the rest of the night curled up in bed, a movie playing in the background while they passed the cake back and forth between bites. No pressure, no noise, just quiet comfort and soft laughter. It was the kind of night that made everything feel uncomplicated—steady, familiar, full in a way that lingered long after the credits rolled.

Now, thinking about how different this silence had felt—the weight of it, the ache of it—Azzi felt selfish. She hadn’t meant for it to go this far. She thought she was buying herself time to breathe, make sense of everything, and regain her footing after the world suddenly turned their relationship into a headline. But the longer the silence dragged on, the more it started to feel like avoidance. And now, she was starting to wonder if maybe it wasn’t just about processing, maybe it was fear, too.

Not fear of Paige. Fear of everything that came with loving her in public.

She had pushed Paige so hard to be open, to stop hiding, to choose their relationship out loud. And Paige had done it. She’d stepped up, made it visible, made it real in a way Azzi had craved for so long. But now, with the media storm swirling around them, the old videos resurfacing, strangers dissecting their lives, podcasts turning their history into clickbait, Azzi was starting to understand the weight Paige had been carrying all along.

And it terrified her to admit that maybe Paige had been right to be afraid.

Because now Azzi wasn’t sure if she could handle it. Not the noise, not the scrutiny, not the constant pressure of being watched and picked apart. She hated how quickly it crept in—how doubt took root in the quiet spaces, how her chest tightened every time her phone lit up with another headline. She didn’t want to care what people thought. But she did. And maybe that was the part she hadn’t been ready to admit before.

She had always believed their love was strong enough to withstand anything. But now she found herself wondering… what if it wasn’t about love at all? What if love wasn’t the problem? What if it was everything else? The eyes, the judgment, the pressure. What if she was the one who wasn’t built for it?

Azzi had to push through the rest of her day, even as her mind stayed tethered to that call with Paige. Despite the chaos in her head, basketball didn’t pause. Practices ran long, the weight room demanded her focus, film sessions left no room for drifting thoughts. Her teammates noticed the shift in her, but no one pressed. They gave her space when she needed it, filling the gaps with quiet support—handshakes, shoulder taps, subtle encouragement passed between drills. Aaliyah cracked a few jokes, trying to get her to smile. Stefanie pulled her aside during water breaks, offering quick words of reassurance.

Later that day, the playoff bracket dropped. The Mystics were in. So were the Wings. And, of course, they’d been matched against each other in the first round.

They found out during a team meeting. Coach pulled the matchup up on screen, and the room erupted with energy—cheers, groans, the hum of excited chatter. Teammates exchanged quick reactions, the buzz of adrenaline filling the space. Azzi leaned forward in her seat, heart skipping once, then again, when she saw the Wings logo lined up across from theirs. Paige’s team.

Aaliyah bumped her shoulder. “This oughta be interesting.”

“Yeah,” Azzi said quietly, already thinking ahead. Already thinking of Paige.

She figured Paige was probably in a room like this too, surrounded by her own teammates, watching the same bracket unfold on a screen. Seeing their team’s name next to hers. In just a couple weeks, they’d be face to face again—on opposite sides this time. The thought hit hard, sharp and strange. Azzi reached for her phone. Maybe a quick text would make it feel a little more normal. Something light, something simple.

AZZI: So… guess I’ll see you in the first round.

PAIGE: That you will. You ready to get cooked?

AZZI: You wish. I’ll try not to distract you too much out there.

It was a light exchange. Easy. Familiar. The kind of back-and-forth that used to come naturally between them, without thinking. The trading of texts, that little bit of teasing, settled something in Azzi she hadn’t realized was tense.

She smiled—really smiled—for the first time in days, not just the polite version she’d been putting on for everyone else. She felt her shoulders drop, like a weight she hadn’t named was finally loosening. It didn’t solve everything. It didn’t erase what still lingered between them. But it was something. A thread tugging back into place, reminding her that they still knew how to reach each other.

After their afternoon practice, Azzi sat quietly in the corner of the locker room, towel draped over her shoulders, half-listening to the hum of conversation around her. Her teammates were laughing about something one of the rookies had said, trading playlist recs and dinner plans like the world outside didn’t exist. Like nothing followed them off the court except soreness and sweat.

And for a moment, Azzi envied that ease.

None of them were headline material right now. No one was pulling clips from their college days or analyzing their body language in tunnel photos. No one was digging through their personal lives, stitching together narratives from grainy screenshots and speculation. They got to play the game, go home, live quietly. Azzi couldn’t remember the last time anything about her life had felt quiet.

She didn’t resent them—of course not. But still, the contrast sat heavy in her chest. A reminder of how exposed she felt lately. How exhausting it was to carry a relationship that wasn’t just hers anymore. How lonely it could feel to be watched by a world that didn’t know her but still had something to say.

Azzi stared at her phone for a long time before making the call. It wasn’t about Paige picking up. She knew she would. That wasn’t the fear. The fear was in what would come after. The conversation. The weight of what they hadn’t said yet. The possibility that her silence had done more damage than she realized.

Azzi chewed on her bottom lip, thumb hovering over the screen. She wasn’t sure she was ready. But she also knew it wasn’t fair to make Paige wait any longer.

She pressed Call before she could second-guess herself again.

Azzi’s screen lit up with Paige’s face. Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun, shadows under her eyes, a kind of tired that went deeper than physical exhaustion. Azzi felt something in her chest pinch. A flicker of guilt. A flicker of missing her so badly it almost made her breath catch.

“Hey,” Azzi said softly.

“Hey,” Paige echoed.

They sat in the quiet for a moment, just looking at each other. No one rushed to fill the silence. It should’ve felt awkward, but it didn’t. It just felt like a pause — a breath they’d both been needing, but didn’t know how to take.

“You look tired,” Azzi said.

“I am.”

The honesty in Paige’s voice made Azzi hesitate. She’d had things she wanted to say — a hundred half-formed thoughts she’d been sorting all day — but now they tangled up again, caught between her throat and the fear of saying it wrong.

“I’ve been thinking…” she started, then trailed off. Paige tilted her head slightly, waiting. Azzi swallowed. “I want to talk more — really talk — but I think maybe for now… we just need a breather.”

Paige’s brow creased. “A breather?”

“Not from us,” Azzi said quickly, waving a hand in front of the screen like she could erase whatever Paige was already assuming. “Just from… everything else. The media, the stories, all the press stuff that’s gonna blow up once the series starts. I just think maybe we should hold off on trying to make sense of all that until it’s over.”

Paige’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You mean… like keeping things private again?”

“No, I mean—” Azzi hesitated again. “Not like hiding. Just… hitting pause on everything around us. The noise. I don’t want it bleeding into our games or distracting us. I just want to focus on basketball without everything else piling on top of it.”

Paige didn’t say anything right away. She just nodded slowly — too slowly. Azzi could see the shift happen in real-time, the slight pullback in her posture, the subtle way her voice dimmed when she finally answered.

“Yeah. Okay. If that’s what you want.”

Azzi frowned. “Paige, I’m not saying I want space from you. I’m not asking for a break or anything like that.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Paige replied. But her tone was off — softer, guarded. Something about it made Azzi’s stomach sink.

“Then what did you hear?” Azzi asked gently.

“I heard you say pause,” Paige said, her eyes not quite meeting hers through the screen. “And I guess I just don’t know what that means.”

Azzi opened her mouth to explain again but stopped. She didn’t know how else to say it. Because she wasn’t sure what she meant, either. She wasn’t asking for distance, but she also didn’t know how to carry their relationship and the noise it attracted while trying to compete in her first playoffs.

“I just want to protect what we have,” she said finally, quiet and unsure. “That’s all.”

Paige nodded again, but it was faint. Automatic. Not real. Azzi could tell — the same way she always could.

“Focus on the series,” Paige said. “Then we’ll talk.”

Azzi wanted to push back, to explain more clearly, to say, I still want you. I’m not pulling away. But everything in her felt tangled. Nothing she could say right now would land the way she meant it to. So she just nodded too, even though it didn’t feel right.

As she sat in the quiet after their call, Azzi’s thoughts kept circling back—not just to Paige’s reaction tonight, but to everything Paige had fought through to get here. A few months ago, Paige had been the one gripped by fear. Hesitant. Guarded. Afraid of what the world might do to something she held sacred. And Azzi had pushed her. Gently, then fiercely. Told her their love deserved to be seen. That hiding wasn’t safety—it was surrender.

And Paige listened. She stepped up. She chose Azzi out loud. Again and again.

Now, Azzi couldn’t stop wondering—if the roles had been reversed, if she had been the one asked to stand in that spotlight first, would she have been brave enough to do it? Would she have chosen Paige as boldly as Paige had chosen her?

She wanted to believe the answer was yes. But sitting in this quiet, heavy with hesitation, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

And that unsettled her in a way no headline ever could.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics #paige bueckers #azzi fudd

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