#because they are the only one in the last few years

[marvelfilth]

A glimpse of you (18+)

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x f!reader

Warnings: dubcon, noncon, somnophilia, oral, fingering, pet names

Summary: She looks down at her chest where your head rests, your back pressed neatly against her front, and smiles when she sees you fast asleep. And then she gasps, because the image twists abruptly, and now you're no longer asleep, but panting, your cheeks red, your forehead glistening with sweat. Wanda's hand moves between your legs, the wet noises her fingers make as they plunge deep inside you make her shudder.

Masterlist

Sometimes, Wanda sees the future.

The glimpses catch her off guard, always appearing without a warning, always vague and always too short to properly comprehend. She only understands them once they come true, after hours of contemplation. That doesn't apply to you.

The first vision you bring her is short and simple to understand - a glimpse into a few days after the New Year's, you, laughing at some silly joke, and her, watching you from afar with a content smile on her lips.

It brings her a sense of comfort. A sense of peace.

The second vision brings nothing, but trouble.

She's late to one of Team-bonding nights Steve made everyone attend, and you're already there, sitting on the floor with your legs tucked under you. She walks up to you, intending to sit by your side, only to gasp when a vision hits her just as her hand comes to rest on your shoulder.

Your face is a mess of mascara and tears, you lips red and swollen, wide open, with saliva and who knows what else dripping down your chin.

She blinks out of it, nearly falling to the floor. You look at her with concern in your eyes, frowning. She struggles to breathe, avoiding your eyes, her face burning with shame.

“What's wrong?” Your voice rings in her ears.

What's wrong? It echoes insides her head and she shuts her eyes forcefully, but the image of you on your knees is still there.

She manages a strangled smile, one that does nothing to convince you, and abruptly walks away, planting herself on the couch near Sam instead.

She avoids you for the rest of the week, hiding in her room. The image of you on your knees for her, your pupils blown with arousal, haunts her, makes her treacherous fingers skim past her underwear and slide inside.

She would be the last to admit her attraction to you, no matter what Nat says about you returning her feelings. The spy claims she sees what the witch doesn't, but her words were never enough for Wanda to muster up the courage to admit her feelings. Now, though, she knows for sure. Her visions are always true.

The information makes her chest flutter. You will be hers. Soon.

Another vision hits her months later, when she finally got over the first one, finally able to stay in your vicinity without completely drenching her panties.

You're cuddling on her bed, watching one of those slashers you're so obsessed with. She grinds her jaw every time you comment on how hot the lead actress is. But then, long after midnight when the movie is almost over, you grow quiet, your body limp in her arms. She looks down at her chest where your head rests, your back pressed neatly against her front, and smiles when she sees you fast asleep.

And then she gasps, because the image twists abruptly, and now you're no longer asleep, but panting, your cheeks red, your forehead glistening with sweat. Wanda's hand moves between your legs, the wet noises her fingers make as they plunge deep inside you make her shudder. Your tank top is pushed down to reveal your supple breasts, pink nipples glistening with her saliva. She pinched one between her fingers, enjoying the way your back arches, your ass pressing against her pelvis.

The vision disappears as quickly as it came, leaving her out of breath and painfully aroused. She gulps, praying her hammering heart does not wake you, her hands hovering over you, unsure.

She closes her eyes, biting her lip hard. She needs to get a grip before she does something she'll regret.

But you're right there, nestled between her legs. The tank top is the one from the vision. She can see your hardened nipples strain against the fabric.

Would it be so bad to tug it down and touch? You will be hers soon, she knows it, so what would it matter if she gets a glimpse before it happens? She hisses in a breath, fighting with herself. It isn't right, but the temptation is too strong.

She'll just look, she decides. One small peak to satisfy her curiosity. It won't be any different from seeing one of her visions, she tells herself.

Slowly her fingers clasp the hem of your top, gently tugging it down. She licks her lips, swallowing down a moan when she finally sees your perfect breasts, so soft and oh so perfect.

How can she help herself now?

She cups your left breast, enjoying the weight of it in her hand, and squeezes softly, her thumb circling your perky nipple. You shift between her legs, burrowing your face in the crook of her neck, and sigh contentedly. She lets out a breath, pressing a kiss to your forehead, her other hand playing with the hem of your shorts almost unconsciously.

She'll stop herself before she gets too far, she's sure of it.

A thought occurs in her head, and she releases your breast and licks her thumb, coating it in her spit. It's not the same as having her mouth on you, but it's the next best thing, so she presses her wet thumb against your nipple, smearing her saliva.

You whine in your sleep, and she sees your legs clench. She startles, and grips you harder, making your hips buckle.

“Shh,” she whispers in your ear, pressing a wet kiss just under it, “it's alright, kitten. It's just a dream.” She can't stop herself now, continuing a wet path of kisses down your throat, biting gently at the juncture of your neck. “Fuck,” she breathes, when you arch into her, your breast spilling from her hand. Her fingers disappear under the waistband of your shorts.

She closes her eyes tightly when she's met with slick, wet heat, her finger gently circling your clit, teasing. You gasp, your brows furrowed, but you don't wake, mumbling something incomprehensible in your sleep.

“Good girl,” she praises your sleeping form, daring to push her fingers inside, stretching your tight pussy around her long digits. “Good fucking girl,” she rasps, panting in your ear, grinding against your ass in search of relief.

She finds the right angle, buckling her hips and thrusting inside you. Slowly and carefully. Holding you tight against her front.

You can't wake up, not now.

Your whines turn into strangled moans and your hips move against her hand. She savour the sight of you. You're hers.

Your cunt clenches as you come, your breathing short and ragged. She's follows suit, burrowing her face in your hair, her walls clenching around nothing.

You turn in her arms, throwing your leg over her hips, and her hand slips out of your shorts. You look so perfect like this, your chest rising with each panting breath you take, your nipples begging for her mouth. Your face scrunches up when she presses her thigh between her legs, and you try to move away, but she doesn't let you. She touches your lower lip with her wet fingers, and pushes inside the heat of your mouth.

“Good kitten,” she whispers feverishly, “You did good, my darling.”

You sag against her, and she feels your wetness drip down her leg. Wands frowns, feeling an undeniable evidence of what she's done.

You'll have questions when you wake up.

That simply won't do.

She shifts, placing you on her pillows, pushing your hair away from your face. She hovers over you, drinking in the sight.

She kisses your chest once, twice, thrice and now she can't stop herself. She needs to worship.

She takes a nipple into her mouth, sucking gently, and moans around it. So fucking perfect. She stays playing with your breasts, nibbling and sucking and licking, leaving it red and wet with her spit.

Your shift away, and she pushes up on her elbows, watching your eyes flutter. Panic explodes in her chest. She rises, face to face with you, and watches your eyes open.

“Wands?” You mumble, your eyes falling shut again.

“It's alright, baby, go back to sleep,” she cooes, nuzzling your cheek, “it's just a dream.”

You nod sleepily, and turn to lay on your stomach, snoring lightly.

She waits a few moments, watching you sleep, and battles with herself. She almost got caught, should she continue?

She licks her lips, and traces patterns at the low of your back. She can't leave you like this now, she decides.

She tugs down your shorts along with your underwear, and pushes a pillow under your hips, gulping when she finally sees your drenched pussy, your pink lips glistening with arousal.

She doesn't waste another moment and presses her mouth against your heat, moaning at the taste. You shudder, your whimpers muffled against the pillow, but she can't be stopped now. She licks your folds, drinking in your wetness, her tongue circling your entrance. She pushes inside without a second thought, and presses her thumb against your clit.

You're simply devine.

Her tongue moves inside you, filling you up, and you're so close already, she can feel your walls clenching around the wet muscle. She hums, palmimg your ass hard enough to leave a bruise, and plays with your clit. Wetness gushes out of you and she cleans you right up, starved.

She licks her way out of your tight cunt, sucking in your clit and pushing her finger inside instead. You moan loudly, grinding against her face, and with one last thrust you come, shaking in her hold.

She pulls out carefully, pressing tiny kisses to your folds, collecting the last bits of your arousal, before sliding your shorts and underwear back up. She wipes her mouth, not bothering to hide her wide smile and lays down beside you, almost purring when you latch onto her.

She pulls you against her chest, enveloping you in her arms, and closes her eyes. She'll worry about the consequences tomorrow.

#wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x female reader #scarlet witch x female reader #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x you #a glimpse of you

[woso-dreamzzz]

Head in the Clouds III

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: Your Champions League final

"And, as the players come out, it's only right to talk about the controversy surrounding Barcelona's starting elven. Coach Giráldez has made the choice to field the team's sixteen-year-old star y/n l/n from the start. Bit of an odd choice as she has no previous Champion's League Final experience but Giráldez has said he's confident in her abilities to rise to the task."

Lyon is a tough opponent, you'd been warned about that. You'd been warned that they were physical and technical and had some of the best players in the world.

You knew that.

It still didn't stop you from being absolutely clattered to the ground on several occasions by Renard the moment you got the ball.

It was a bit frustrating actually.

Lyon were tough and, as Irene helps you to your feet, you know she's feeling it too.

The moments of the first half tick down until you leak into injury time. It's frustrating and clearly Renard is working overtime covering you and Aitana which is probably how it all kicked off.

Renard is covering Aitana, blocking her amazingly well while you lurk in the space she's left behind, between Gilles and Carpenter.

You haven't had much space this game so it's nice to be able to breathe with Renard so focused on not letting Aitana take the shot she's clearly winding up to.

The most she manages to get is a chip over the Lyon player, the ball about to land at your feet.

You act on instinct though, not letting it get there.

Your foot stretches out to keep it in the air.

Carpenter and Gilles start moving towards you but it's already too late.

You've twisted to face goal, foot connecting with the ball mid-air and sending it rocketing past Endler.

She didn't even move, your shot taken and executed too quickly for her to realise.

It buries itself in the top right corner and your eyes bug out of your head.

To be honest, you hadn't really realised what you'd done either. It was pure instinct, in the dying seconds of the first half and you'd scored.

Aitana gets to you first, jumping on your back and sending you both tumbling to the floor. Salma and Keira come next, also joining the pile and you tilt your head up to see Caro beaming down on you.

People say Caro doesn't smile a lot and you don't understand why they lie. Caro always smiles at you.

Irene's the one that gets everyone off, pulling you to your feet before kneeling to retie your laces.

"Good girl," She says to you, cupping your cheeks as the Basque flows into your ears," Keep it up, okay?"

Your cheeks bright red, you nod.

The backline just passes the ball between them in the last few seconds of the first half, unwilling to take the risk of Lyon somehow getting the equaliser.

You come off to raucous applause from the fans and immediately try to divert further into the stadium to queue up to get food.

"No," Lucy laughs," The staff already got your fries. No mingling today for you."

You pout a little because sometimes fans in the queue tell funny stories but Lucy's grip on you is firm as she guides you back into the locker room.

Jona is giving a speech but you're aimlessly poking at your bruises and munching on your fries so you don't pay too much attention. If it's important then someone will remind you.

Alexia's the one that walks you back out. She's saying something but you're a bit distracted by how grimy your shorts are from all the times you've been forced to the ground so you only really tune in when she hugs you.

"Okay?"

"Huh? What?"

Alexia laughs, shaking her head fondly. "Nothing. Just go out there and keep showing Lyon who's boss."

You frown. "But Jona's our boss. They know that."

"One goal separates the two sides. A beautiful volley from l/n, assisted by Aitana. There were serious doubts about her ability to play well in a final like this but her technique and drive have been unmatched this entire game. Lyon's defence really need to kick it up a gear because I have a feeling that once she starts, it's hard for her to stop."

Lyon throws more bodies at you in this second half. It's gotten more intense, harder to take your own shots but you create a few big chances for others that Endler manages to brush away.

Renard hovers over you, clearly thinking you're more of a threat than Aitana. That's a little weird because Aitana is the best player in the world and it's strange of Renard to not treat her as the threat she is.

Silly of her because you receive the ball from Patri, skirt around and over Renard's outstretched leg, nutmegging her in the process before sending it off to Aitana to drive into the box and score.

She laughs breathlessly as she celebrates, pointing at you with a smile as the team mobs her. She gets head pats and hugs and you do too.

You don't get that. All you did was pass the ball to her so she could score. You do it all the time in training.

"Two nil up against Lyon with a goal from the best player in the world and an assist by the best youngster in the world. Lyon really needs to step it up. Renard can't mark two of the world's best on her own."

A few minutes before Ona is set to be subbed on, you go down hard.

Bacha slides in on you just before you can send a pass to where Caro is waiting. You topple over, landing on the ground with a thump. She lands on you and you groan, your ribs flaring up like they did against Chelsea.

Lucy pushes Bacha off you and says a few words in French that you don't really understand before she helps you to your feet, checking you over.

"Go take the free kick," She orders," And if someone does that again you have my permission to push them back."

You frown. "Alexia said not to do anything you've given me permission to do."

Lucy rolls her eyes. "Go and take your free kick."

That's when you're back to what you're usually doing.

Scoring goals that weren't meant to be goals.

You're at the halfway line but you've got a strong free kick so your team lines up on the edge of the box to wait for it.

At training, Jona always told you to aim for the taller players.

Irene is currently busy in a little skirmish against Diani so you try to aim for Ingrid.

Only Ingrid gets pushed over in her own skirmish and there's no head to guide the ball in.

Not that you needed it because it rockets into the goal, no matter how far away you are. It's high and bounces off the underside of the top crossbar and over the goal line.

Endler just watches it go, clearly expecting there to be a person you've picked out ready to head it home. It's clear she's planning to block the shot that was never going to come.

The stadium erupts again and this time, Salma gets to you first. She thumps you on the back and you manage your own little laugh.

"I didn't mean to do that," You say and she shakes her head.

"Doesn't matter!" She laughs," Ballon D'or here you come!"

You frown at that. During this entire season, everyone has been talking about you getting a Ballon D'or but nobody's really explained what it is.

You gather it must be a good thing though because Aitana has one and Alexia has two.

At this point, you're a little worried to confess that you don't know what it is so you just smile and nod.

"Her face makes it clear that it wasn't meant to be a shot but no one can fault her during this match! L/n is really unravelling Lyon today. With about half an hour left of this match, it's going to take a miracle to get Lyon back in this game!"

Ada Hegerberg is one of your idols. She's amazing. She's one of the greatest football players you've ever seen. In your eyes, she's up there with Pernille Harder and Vivianne Miedema and Caro.

Last year, when you got offered contracts, you almost went straight to Lyon just because they had her. If there had been two Adas at Lyon then you probably would have chosen them over Barcelona and their offering of Caro.

But there is only one Ada Hegerberg and Barcelona had Alexia and Aitana on top of Caro so that's where you went.

But, still, Ada Hegerberg is one of the greats and you're a little bit star struck as she runs past you onto the pitch.

"No," Irene says to you," We're still playing a match. You can get her autograph later."

You bite you lip. "But-"

"And no going easy on her, okay?" Irene looks sternly at you, one brow raised. It's the same look she gives her son when he's being a little silly. "We've still got a game to play."

You sigh, scuffing the dirt with your boot. "Fine."

When you first saw Ada run on, you didn't expect your first interaction to go like this.

You execute a perfect slide tackle that would make Mapi proud, steal the ball and immediately start sprinting up the other side of the pitch.

You hope she doesn't hold that against you later on because you really want to talk to her and maybe get her shirt or at least a picture with her.

But still, like Irene said, you have a match to play so you dribble around Horan and pass the ball to Patri as you make a run into the box.

That's another thing about you, you think, that Lyon wasn't prepared for. You're fast.

Very fast and Alexia says you have this uncanny ability to find space where you really shouldn't be able to.

You can find space and you can outpace your markers but you're never quite ready for a Patri cross.

She has this habit of crossing much higher than you actually are.

You only have space for so much longer so you try to guide the ball down with your head only it bounces straight onto your skull and you kind of do an odd little jump to beat Renard to it.

It's enough of a bounce to go over Endler, who has come out of her goal to stop you and roll into the goal behind her.

You hear Renard sigh behind you but you're swept away by Patri shaking you firmly by the shoulders as the rest of the team come in to congratulate you.

"It's Patri's goal really," You try to explain," She just used my head to get it in. She deserves all the credit."

As per usual, no one listens to you.

"And a fantastic header from Barcelona's youngster! You have to wonder, if this is how she fares against Lyon, is there any way to truly stop her?"

Alexia gets subbed on in the last few minutes, getting the armband and immediately starts organising everyone the way that she wants.

You've got the ball at your feet but Carpenter is closing in fast and you're running out of room on the pitch.

You cut it back to where you know Alexia is waiting, tracking back as soon as its left your foot.

You don't see the ball go in but you hear the stadium erupt.

Alexia's shirt is off and she's bowing to the crowd as you jog over.

Her arm is over your shoulder and she's jostling you with a laugh.

A kiss lands on the top of your head and you smile up at her.

"You cannot write this! Putellas coming on and within minutes scoring a goal! It's been a long road back from injury for Alexia Putellas and she was set up perfectly by Barcelona's young talent!"

The final whistle comes all too soon and you're left staring at the score in shock, eyes wide as the team celebrates around you.

A smile appears on your face after several minutes of confusion.

You've won.

You've won the Champion's League and completed a hattrick and a brace of assists.

Caro hoists you up onto her back, bouncing you up and down while you shriek and squeal with laughter.

You're passed off to the rest of the team too as the celebrations begin.

Alexia keeps you close though, holding your hand all the way up to the medal ceremony where she pushes you in front of her second last in the line.

Irene grabs you after that, wedging you onto the step below her so she could make sure you didn't fall.

You're not quite sure how to explain how you feel watching Alexia lift the trophy. In fact, you're not quite sure how to explain how you're feeling about any of this.

It's difficult to explain.

Usually, after a game, you're just hungry but all hunger has left you.

Adrenaline still pumps in your system as celebrations rage around you. You're not quite sure what's going on but one of the staff drags you away to get a weird extra trophy that they say is yours and yours alone.

You don't know what to do with it but the staff member says they'll take it back to the locker room for you so you just let them.

That's when Caro appears again. She's still smiling as she takes your shoulders and guides you over to where the Lyon girls are shuffling back inside.

"Ada!" She calls and her national teammate turns around.

"Caro?"

Caro pushes you forward with a little laugh. "You have quite the fan."

Suddenly, shyness floods your body and you look down. "Hi, Mrs Hegerberg."

"You can call me Ada, you know."

"My Mama says you should always greet women professionally when you first meet them," You say, still not looking at her. You're still at a loss for what to say, just like you were when you first met Caro.

"She's a big fan." Thankfully, that same teammate comes to your rescue. "She was very excited to be playing against you."

You nod in confirmation before finally gaining the courage to look up. "If I find a pen, can I have your autograph please?"

"An autograph?" Ada repeats, almost in disbelief.

"I brought my autograph book with me!" You explain," It's in the locker room!"

She laughs and you suddenly feel awful.

You've just beat her. Of course she doesn't want to sign your autograph book.

"Tell you what," Ada says and you brace yourself to be rejected," I'll sign your book if we can swap shirts."

You look at Caro for permission. There's a rule that you aren't allowed to give away your shirt without adult permission. Alexia doesn't like it because sometimes you forget to put the other person's shirt on and wander around the pitch shirtless.

With Caro's permission, you sprint off to get your book and a pen.

Ada signs it and then swaps shirts with you, where Caro reminds you that you have to put on Ada's shirt before joining in on the celebrations again.

That's when Irene takes custody of you. You're still clutching your autograph book, completely star struck by the fact that you have Ada Hegerberg's signature and her shirt.

"Give me that," Irene says, gently taking your book from you," I'll look after it for you."

You nod.

That's probably the best thing. You almost lost it once so it's better Irene has it.

You end up ping-ponging around the rest of the team for the rest of the celebrations until Alexia lets you know you can bring your family down.

Everyone came for you. Your Mama and Papa and your Nana and Grandpappy and Abuela and Abuelo.

Abuelo brings you food still steaming in a container and you scoff it down as soon as you can.

"Can I take some of this home with me?" You ask him," Did you bring more?"

"I did bring more," He replies," I will pack them up before you get on the plane tomorrow."

You grin. "Thank you, Abuelo."

You get a picture with your whole family and the trophy because Ingrid tells you that's something people do when they win and you trust Ingrid.

It's a great photo and you're smiling so wide wearing Ada Hergerbeg's Lyon shirt and a Barcelona flag doubling as a cape.

Your family leaves soon after that but Nana gives you a big hug and reminds you to take a nap before dinner so you agree because Nana is smart and she used to take care of you a lot when you were younger.

Mama and Papa coo over you, saying embarrassing things like 'look at you' and 'we'll put that photo up in the restaurant'.

Then you get put back in Alexia's custody.

She grins at you.

You take a step back.

You're not the most perceptive. People do and say things that seemingly come out of nowhere but you recognise this look as what it is.

Trouble.

You try to dart away but Alexia's got a tight grip and in one smooth movement, you're up on one of her shoulders.

"Ale!" You squeal," Let me down!"

She's laughing though and she's not letting you down at all.

"Take it all in!" She yells up at you," It's all thanks to you!"

#woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #barca femeni #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

[girlokwhatever]

i have an emily idea cooking … ok so they played together at louisville (maybe reader is a year or two younger than em) and dated. they broke up and emily left for the wnba. reader transferred to uconn bc louisville reminded her too much of emily. two years later reader is drafted and ends up on the mystics with emily 🙈

(guys i’m switching up the draft picks a little bit to fit the plot ok i know washington wasn’t second pick)

𖤓✎⋆·˚ ༘ *✧.*ੈ✩‧₊˚ end of beginning,,

emily engstler x fem!ex!reader

“i am happy for you emily, truly i am.”

“then why are you breaking up with me? you don’t know that long distance won’t work.”

tears stream down both of your faces, a consequence of your decision to end things with emily. she committed to the draft that was only days away and was projected to rank very high. she was leaving louisville, which meant she was leaving you and the life you built together.

you weren’t mad at her at all. you really were happy for her and her accomplishments. it was going to break you to watch her leave and not come back, which is why you made the decision you did. selfishly, you needed to focus on your career. you needed to let her go so that the two of you could grow on your own.

“emily..”

“please don’t do this. we can try. i’ll try. please.”

you meant the world to emily, encouraged her to do great things and be a better person. she felt as if she owed the entire past year to you and your motivation that kept her going even through the darkest moments. you’d been a great comfort to her. there would be late nights when nothing else mattered but the feeling of you in her arms. she’d do anything for you.

she’d do anything for you.

“i can’t,”

your voice is barely above a whisper. you’re trying to hold back the sob threatening to spill over. sometimes the best choices were the hardest ones to make.

emily drags her hands down her face and peers over at you. you’re not looking at her anymore, head turned and eyes squeezed shut. she reaches out for you and cups her hand around the side of your face. when you lean into her touch she feels sick, finally letting the reality of having to let you go sink in.

“it’s okay. i get it, i know. i love you.”

she kisses your forehead as she stands, letting her hand drop back down to her side. you relish in the feeling before it’s gone because you know this will probably be the last time you feel it. that same feeling that still gives you butterflies.

“i love you too, em.”

that was two years ago.

you went to watch her get drafted, eyes teary and gleaming as you followed her figure walking to the stage after getting picked forth overall. you cheered and cried for her as if nothing had changed.

a few days after that you entered the transfer portal. everything reminded you too much of her. her name was still plastered on the cubby next to yours in the locker room, her scent still lingered in your sheets, her spot on the couch was left untouched, her absence in the home court was noted heavily.

you ended up signing with uconn. the last two years of your collegiate career were spent there, growing and expanding as not only a player but a person. the friends you made were phenomenal and helped you grieve with the ones you lost.

due to the extra work you were putting into your dream, you grew exponentially in popularity on social media along with your fellow teammate paige bueckers. you were close to everyone on the team, especially her. it led to people shipping the two of you much to your surprise.

you hadn’t dated anyone since emily.

but now it was your turn to be drafted. you committed to the draft alongside your two teammates nika and aaliyah. life was good. after two years of struggling and trying to find yourself, things were finally falling into place.

you’d gotten second overall pick in the first round. the washington mystics selected you and you were beyond grateful for the opportunity. you turned to give your coach a hug, noticing paige and azzi recording in the back with wide smiles on their faces.

it felt like a fever dream honestly. the rest of the night flew by, interviews and interactions seemingly only lasting seconds before you were pulled off to the next person. through the haze, you forgot what would be waiting for you once you arrived in washington.

or who.

emily watched the draft, nervous with anticipation to see where you’d end up. when she heard your name and washington mystics in the same sentence, her heart started pounding in her chest.

she never got over you. it made starting the league hard for her considering she lost her main pillar of love and support. her year with the indiana fever was full of intense moments and anger, always feeling like she wasn’t giving enough and kept having to prove herself.

the next year was even harder. she suffered a rough shoulder injury, leading to countless days of physical therapy and doctor visits. all without you.

to know that she’d see you again in only a short number of days was terrifying. you’d both be in training camp together which lasted weeks, spending day after day seeing each other. though it made her anxious, emily was also excited. she would get to see you again in all your glory, hopefully being able to smile and laugh together like you used to.

emily walked into the mystics gym, setting her bag down and standing to observe the room. there were a few people there already, you being one of them. her eyes immediately found you and your figure, so recognizable to emily.

you seemed to have this glowing aura around you. a smile was plastered on your face as you talked to ariel. you dribbled a basketball between your hands effortlessly, adjusting to the weight and getting used to your new surroundings. your eyes also wandered after you broke away from ariel, finding emily across the room.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss her. two years without her was a major struggle for you. sometimes, late at night, you wondered what it would’ve been like if you had never broken up with her. there were countless times when you regretted your choice. you never considered the fact that you could possibly be teammates again one day. certainly not so soon.

you wandered onto the court, leaving all your aimless thoughts behind. the rest of the trainees gathered with you and started a simple drill where you and a partner would take turns shooting and guarding one another.

by second nature you and emily found each other, shyly muttering a quick, “do you wanna be my partner?”

“yeah, i’d love to.” her heart was pounding at your words, imagining that maybe, just maybe, you missed her too. she smiled at your shyness, finding it ironic how your relationship had devolved.

emily was considerably taller than you, so shooting over her was not easy feat. at some moments you felt like she was letting you drain shots purposefully, even if she swore she wasn’t. you were even able to block a few of her shots, mostly when she kept her feet planted though.

after awhile and a few rotations, the coach offered a different drill. he split the group in two and let you scrimmage, you and emily somehow ending up on the same team.

it was giving you deja vu. anytime you’d get the ball emily was there either setting a screen or opening a path for you. it felt like she never left, like you never split, like you two were still the dynamic duo you were known to be at one point. like she was still your emily.

being here with her made you feel like your old self. the you from louisville, playing with the emily from louisville. in a time where you were both still in love and happy. another version of yourself was here, the best version of yourself.

after hours of sweating and nearly collapsing from being breathless, the day’s training was coming to an end. you drained one more three point shot, finally feeling satisfied with your performance. everyone cheered for you playfully as you collected your bag, quickly heading back to your car. you made it all the way to the parking lot before hearing a voice.

“you did really good today.”

you turned to see emily standing behind you, slightly disheveled and out of breath. she was smiling softly at you the same way she used to. it still made you flutter to this day, especially when you remember all the memories the two of you share.

“thank you, you too! your defense is still so good.”

“thank you,”

you both stood there in silence, not quite ready to break away. being around her offered you some sense of comfort in such an unfamiliar place.

“how’s paige?”

“paige? i mean, she’s good.”

“are you two, like.. together?”

“what- no. we’re just friends.”

emily nods, satisfied at the information. she’s slightly embarrassed for even asking, but she had to know. she had to know if you moved on with someone else.

“so then, is it okay if i take you out to dinner?”

“like, right now?”

“just tonight. you can shower and stuff of course.”

you don’t even have to think about your answer. you’d been wanting a moment like this for over a year. you missed her so much, too much. it was starting to affect you mentally. you’d wonder about her too often, having to fight some of the strongest urges to reach out to her and ask how she was doing.

“yeah, yeah. i’d really like that.”

she’s smiling, allowing it to reach her eyes as she waves you off. she felt like she was home again, even though she was still thousands of miles away. you were here, and that’s all she needed. any moment with you felt so right.

she took the time apart from you to grow as her own person, but now she was ready to grow again with you.

hopefully, you’d be ready too.

𖤓✎⋆·˚ ༘ *✧.*ੈ✩‧₊˚

guys hopefully the song makes sense for this fic

should i make a part two idk?!!?!

also i will spell check this tomorrow.

#emily engstler i love you #rea loves em #emily engstler fic #emily engstler smut #emily engstler imagine #emily engstler x reader #emily engstler #masc lesbian #lesbian #bisexual #wlw slay #wlw angst #wlw yearning #wlw post #i love my moots #lgbtqia #lgbtq

[devoutekuna]

Family bonding

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Sukuna-

Sukuna never brings his child around his followers, finding them unworthy to grace their eyes upon his offspring. Sat in a vacant room, laid out on the floor as he watched his followers trying to entrain him, dancing around, telling stories or jokes. Nothing could suffice him, a pile of heads adorning the corner of the room, yet to become of everyone. Small giggles being heard from the slightly open door, pink hair sticking out from beside it as he looked at it, hands working magic as he sliced their head off, ushering for the next person. Door slashed open just like those people, leaving wooden remains all around. "Show yourself" crimson eyes peering out from the last standing part of the door. A smile glistening on her face, flashing her canines at him. "Papa!" Running towards the king. A smirk on his face as he felt his daughter's embrace, staring at the one servant who raised their head just for it to be cut off, leaving no witnesses to the matter.

"Next!" Motioning for the next person to come in, only to receive the news that there was nobody left, leaving a pile of corpses in the corner of the room, blood seeping towards him.

Gojo-

"Won't mummy be mad?" Sat in his father's arms as he fought a curse, using his infinity to block all the attacks, still flinching from the idea of them getting through. "Not if she doesn't know" grinning at the little boy, he loved to mess with you, hearing you scold him was some of his favourite highlights. "But still" covering his head in his father's shoulder, white hair rubbing against his neck. "If you're that scared we can go home" exorcising the curse as he looked away, making sure not leave a mess and just use the excuse that it ran away. Kicking his leg into his chest on accident. "No!" Smiling at how much his son wanted to spend time with him.

Nanami-

"If your going to stay in here, help me out" trying to declutter his office. Taking down a box full of files, throwing them onto the sofa since he knew that they were no used to him. Reaching for the next one as he noticed a small pair of hands reaching towards him first. "To me" on her toes as she reached for it, wanting to be helpful like she said. "Don't drop it sweetheart." Handing her the box, noticing how she reacted by lowering her body, waddling over to the sofa since the box was too big for her. "Ooo, what's this daddy?" Pulling out a memory box you two made when you reached your 10 year anniversary. Ripping the box open before he could even get a good look at what she was talking about. Ripping the box from her arms, not knowing what she would discover if she opened it up. "Awh" folding her arms over her chest, trying to act cute to get it back. "Let's leave this up here" straining his arms as he put it back up.

Geto-

He's rambling on about his stupid followers, talking about how useless and belittling them, cup in hand as he took a few sips of the drink before he carried down talking. "Here you go daddy" running up to him with a new glass of milk, having it come out of the microwave, it was warm, but still a little cold. Ripping the other cup from his hands, running back to the kitchen to hand it you. "Thank you sweetheart" smiling at the girl as she seated herself next to him, leaning her body onto his.listening to whatever he had to say despite not understanding the meaning behind it at all. "And then they have the nerve to say something about my actions!" Maybe he was drunk with the way he was acting. Small hands leaning over to grab the felt tips, refusing to get out of her comfortable position only for her father to step in and pass them to her, stroking her hair in the process.

Toji-

"Keep up" strolling in the park, he would've kept his normal quick pace but he had his daughter with him, both dressed up in pyjamas as they walked through the park. He was only here because the lines for the food truck were shorter at nighttime. Nightie swaying in the wind despite her coat. "Wait up daddy!" Running up to him to try and grab his hand, only to grab his fingers because she was too short. Picking the girl up as he sped up, wanting to get back before you woke up since he knew you would scold him.

Sat on the bench eating some ice-cream, it was a quick stop by to the shop before they made it to the food truck since she was so hungry. Wiping the ice-cream off her nose with the spare tissue he had. "We've got to go before your ma' wakes up"

#geto fluff #gojo fluff #nanami fluff #sukuna fluff #toji fluff #geto x reader #gojo x reader #sukuna x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #geto suguru #gojo satoru #sukuna ryomen #nanami kento #toji fushiguro #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader #jjk #𝙳𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚎𝙺𝚞𝚗𝚊

[bellawoso]

bags.

aitana bonmati x reader

desc: aftermath of falling for your bestfriend …. anddd its short and angsty at the start ☹️

shit. this was bad right? realising the longing glances you had been sending to your bestfriend were not strictly platonic. you dont think you would have minded this much if it was anyone else, but aitana was your closest friend, and a girl.

you hated it.

you hated the way your body betrayed your mind as your cheeks flushed red when aitana turned back around to give you one last wave goodbye.

you hated the way the rest of your drive home was clouded by thoughts of aitana, haunted by her sweet melodic voice which always was accompanied by a strong accent when she insisted she spoke english for you, which she had learnt just so she could communicate better with you.

did she learn it for you, only?

did she feel the same way? the thought disgusted you. if it was a one sided thing on your behalf then you could get rid of it quickly, but if she felt the same way? what could you do? aitana would never shy away from her feelings, always rambling on about embracing her sexuality and welcoming new feelings with love.

aitana would tell you, and if she did - god.

things would become real, you would have to reject her, though the thought of saying no to her made you tense up, would you be able to resist? or would you push her away, pushing away your five year old friendship with her?

even worse - what if you confessed to her?

the night after finals were ones to be celebrated with drinks and dances, even alexia ignored her no drinking during season rules for these nights.

you were the only one in the team not drinking, terrified that if you even looked in the direction of the ‘liquid confidence’ at the bar then it would fuel you to tell your bestfriend how you really felt.

except, what would you say? what did you actually feel for her? was it actually love, or just mere confusion?

does everyone feel like this towards their best friend?

hell - you didnt even know if aitana would feel the same way; thoughts of her leaving your house in silence ate away at you, forcing you to bury every romantic feeling you felt for her.

how could you not feel this way? after sleepovers that felt a bit too domestic to be platonic, and kisses on your cheek that lingered too long to be considered friendly, and the hugs where hand slipped lower than they should have between two friends.

———

aitana came round to your house a few days ago. each time she shows up uninvited you cant help but imagine this being what it would be like if she was your girlfriend, would you greet her with a kiss? a kiss between two girls.

you think you have gotten over the whole sexuality thing.

you spent an entire night last month doing those little sexuality quizzes, and after three hours of choosing the straightest answer for each question, you had actually started to choose answers that were real to you.

progress is progress right?

a week after that you went to a gay bar with your friend. you dont like to think about the part where you walked straight back out,

the next night you went back, forcing yourself to stay there, however you spent most of your night hiding in the toilets, too scared you would encounter someone from the team.

two weeks after that, you phoned your dad. he still lived in england, you honestly didnt know where this internalised homophobia came from, your dad always supporting pride movements back home in london. you could just blame it on a lack of exposure, but you werent really sure.

as you tried to tell him, your throat suddenly became dry and closed up, tears pooled in your eyes, threatening to spill as you spoke the words. it was the first time you had actually admitted it out loud; it felt nice.

aitana was moaning about her lack of love life again, you really hoped she hadnt noticed your glances at her lips, movie night went on, and as usual you fell asleep on your bestfriends lap. because that what bestfriends do, right?

———

the girls were at the club yesterday, mapi and ingrid joint by the hip as usual. you wish you were as comfortable about everything as they were.

you were sat down next to aitana when it happened, some man making a snarky comment about two girls being together, you felt aitana tense up next to you, you held her hands in yours, softly whispering in her ear that it was okay as alexia and irene berated this man about his words.

you excused yourself to the bathroom, needing to think for a minute. splashing your face with water as you looked in the mirror, muttering the words “your fine as you are” repeatedly to yourself, wishing that the more you said it the more it would sink in.

it never did.

a girl walked into the bathroom behind you, you recognised her as being someone that patri was talking to earlier, she looked confident and fearless, and you couldnt help but wish to be as content with who you were as she was.

locking eye contact with the girl in the mirror, she offered you a small smile which you returned with an excited grin, the new spark in your eye at the thought of going back to your bestfriend, as you were going to do something. hold her hand. kiss her cheek. you werent sure yet, but you knew it would just happen.

you rushed out of the bathroom back to the table, about to slip into your previous spot next to aitana, who was deeply engaged in a conversation with patri, alexia, mapi and lucy. until some drunk person knocked into you, causing you to lose balance and stumble onto your bestfriends lap, who gripped onto your hips to stabilise you on her lap.

now, it was common for people on the team to sometimes sit on their friends lap, but the wolf whistle from patri made you tense up as lucy laughed and joked that “you and aitana looked like a couple” you missed the blush coating aitanas cheeks and now only feared that your fellow lioness had caught onto your crush.

pushing yourself off aitanas lap and missing the newfound frown on her face, you rushed out of the bar, needing some fresh air to hopefully cool your face and regulate your breathing.

lucy followed you out, making sure you were safe by your self, and came to sit next to you on the curb.

“you alright y/n?” she asked, “do you really think me and aita looked like a couple” you questioned hopefully.

“it was just in the moment y/n, you were on her lap and her hand were on your waist, its no big deal, honestly, im sorry if it made you uncomfortable”

“no, it is a big deal, for me at least, i- i just, im confused, okay? im making myself uncomfortable because ive decided im into girls at 24 years old!”

lucy, to your surprise, didnt look too taken aback by your admittance “well that was the boldest coming out i think i have ever seen, but im proud of you y/n, okay? just know we all accept you.”

“i- i think i like aitana, but, does she feel the same? i dont want to lose her.”

lucy however, was distracted by something behind you, noticing the sound of the club door opening, you turned around to be met with aitana walking over to you two, lucy stood up, giving you a comforting nod as she walked back to the club entrance.

looking at your bestfriends face as she rambled about how stupid lucy and patri were, as you mindlessly played with the rings adorning her hands which rested on your lap.

except this time when you glanced at her lips, you knew if you two kissed then you wouldnt pull away, too in your thoughts to realise her voice trailing off. until you felt a soft pair of lips on your own, as she grabbed your jaw in her hand, tilting your face to how she wanted.

one of your hands went to her soft brunette locks, and tangled in her hair, playing with the short baby hairs at the nape of her neck.

when you two broke apart, you settled on resting your foreheads on each others, panting due to the restriction of oxygen.

until aitana spoke up “go on a date with me?”

except for the first time, you said yes to a romantic activity with a girl.

———

a year later

yourinstagram

♥️ liked by aitanabonmati, lucybronze and 29,857 others

caption: movie nights turned to living with you amor, happy 1 year 🤍

tagged: aitanabonmati

———

aitanabonmati: cariiii, te amo muchooo

-> yourinsta: i love you

-

lucybronze: no credits to me?

-> yourinsta: im telling leah on you

-> lucybronze: kid! for what?!

-> yourinsta: being annoying.

-

user1: they are so cute together

user2: friends to loversss

———

#Spotify #woso #woso community #barcelona femeni #woso fanfics #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #aitana bonmati #mapi leon #mapi león #ona batlle #alexia putellas #lucy bronze #keira walsh #aitana bonmati x reader #aitana

[flickering-chandelier]

The Alchemy

Pairing: Hockey Azriel x Best Friend’s Sister Reader

Summary: The day Azriel met Cassian’s little sister, he knew he was done for. When he finds out years later that she’s just as interested in him, things become complicated as they try to hide their blooming relationship from Cassian while their hockey team is working hard to win the championship.

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: swearing, smut, a sprained ankle lol?

Word Count: 7.1k

The crowd roared as Azriel slapped his stick across the ice, shooting the puck directly past the goalie and into the net. 

His teammates clapped him on the back, grinning as the final buzzer sounded. He had won them the game. People were in his face, excitedly swarming around him on the ice, ready to celebrate, but through it all, his eyes landed on you in the stands. Your smile was bright, your eyes glittering with pride. 

That made his heart flip. He could handle all the reporters, all the overeager fans, all the assholes from his team and opposite teams alike, but your smile could bring him to his knees.

Cassian skated into sight then, and Azriel was immediately brought back down to earth. 

“Congrats bro,” Cassian said. “Maybe the journalists will leave me alone for once,” he smirked.

Azriel rolled his eyes good-naturedly, and sure enough, a woman with a microphone was waiting next to the tunnel, her eyes locked on Azriel, a big smile on her face. 

Cassian was usually the star of the show, the team’s captain, the hotshot golden boy for the fans and media alike. Azriel loved what he did, but he was perfectly happy to blend into Cassian’s shadow. 

It had been that way since they were kids. Azriel and Cassian had met as teenagers at hockey practice. They hated each other at first, but once they started working together, they realized it was better for everyone that way. 

They had been friends for quite a while before Azriel met you. 

It was one of the last games in the season of their senior year. Cassian had stolen the show, but Azirel had gotten a few good shots in, too. The two of them walked out of the locker room together after the game, and you were waiting there, wearing a jersey for the team, your hair tied up with ribbons that matched the team’s colors. 

Azriel was immediately drawn in by your smile, your hair, your eyes. For a moment he fantasized about sauntering up to you, introducing himself, and immediately making you fall in love with him.

But then you looked right past him, grinning at Cassian. “That was so awesome, Cass!”

Cassian grinned, pulling you into a bear hug, before turning to Azriel. “Az, this is my little sister.”

Your smile turned on Azriel for the first time, and he felt his whole world flip on its axis. 

Azriel had already known that Cassian was protective of people that he cared about. He had gotten suspended from a few games the year before because he tackled a player on the other team who had made fun of Azriel. So, he could only imagine how Cassian was with you, with his little sister who clearly looked up to him. 

So, Azriel immediately knew you would never be an option for him. 

That didn’t stop him from falling for you, though. 

---

You cheered at the top of your lungs as Azriel’s shot whizzed into the net, seconds before the final buzzer went off. Your heart soared as his teammates buzzed around him, lifting their sticks in the air in triumph. 

Despite everything around him, his eyes landed on you and you felt your heart lurch. 

It seemed that Azriel had always been able to find you in the stands, no matter what else was happening. You tried to push down the well of emotions in your chest. 

Ever since you had met Azriel, you had felt drawn to him, to his steady, quiet presence. 

He had never shown any interest in you though. In fact, he seemed to avoid you at most functions that you ended up at together. 

You couldn’t exactly blame him. You were just Cassian’s little sister, the annoying girl following them around to all their games. 

Cassian and you had always been close, so you loved being able to support him, but in the privacy of your own mind, you were willing to admit that after you had met Azriel, you were definitely more inclined to go to your brother’s hockey games. 

You watched as Azriel skated toward the reporter, getting through the interview with as few words as possible, as usual. 

The reporter eventually seemed to give up on getting anything substantial from Az, and she called Cassian over, who came up with an easy smile. He had always been good in the spotlight, giving interesting answers, able to work a crowd. 

Azriel looked relieved to get off the ice, out of sight. 

You wished you could follow him, get just a moment with him. 

But you knew that wasn’t in the cards for you.

A few days later, you had gotten out of work early and decided to go watch the boys’ hockey practice. They didn’t let many people in, but Cassian had made sure that you made the list. 

You took a seat fairly close to the rink, your gaze immediately falling on Azriel, mesmerized as you watched him fly across the ice, his brow furrowed with focus, massive frame somehow so graceful in his element. 

Often, you wished you could see his muscles working beneath all that padding, the shape of his shoulders, his biceps, his forearms flexing with each movement.

Cassian barked orders at his teammates, ever the hardworking captain, and you tore your eyes from Azriel long enough to pretend that you were only there to support your brother. 

At the end of practice, Cassian grinned at you, and nodded his head toward the tunnels. “Meet me in the locker room in 10 minutes?”

You gave him a thumbs up and he skated out of sight. You hadn’t been in the locker rooms much. You secretly hoped that Azriel would still be around by the time that you got there. 

Hesitantly, you pushed through the doors into the locker room, your heart racing slightly at the thought of what you might see in there. You were used to being around your brother’s coworkers, but they weren’t usually so... naked.

Frankly you couldn’t tell if your prayers had been answered or if the universe was messing with you as you immediately locked eyes with a shirtless Azriel, a towel wrapped around his waist, his own eyes wide in surprise when he saw you there. 

It took all your strength to maintain eye contact, to not let your gaze dip down to his chiseled chest, still glistening with water droplets from the shower. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice slightly husky. 

Some of their teammates were around in various stages of undress, looking at you and Azriel curiously, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Azriel. “Hi,” you said, and cleared your throat. “Cassian asked me to come…” you trailed off, feeling unsure of yourself. You couldn’t remember the last time you and Azriel had been together without Cassian’s looming presence. 

He swallowed, and nodded. “Right.”

Before you could think of anything else to say, Cassian sauntered in with an easy smile on his face, in shorts and a t-shirt. 

“Hey! I’m glad you came by, I wanted to talk to you,” he said, as he opened his locker and rifled through it. 

You noticed out of the corner of your eye that Azriel retreated to his own locker, behind you. “What’s up?” You asked.

He shot you his sweetest smile, and you immediately rolled your eyes. “What’s the favor, Cass?”

Laughing, he said, “the team’s having a party soon, and I’m supposed to be in charge of appetizers…” he trailed off, grimacing slightly. 

“Who’s idea was that?” you laughed. 

He shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know how it happened. Would you help me out?”

“Do I get to come to the party?” you raised an eyebrow. 

“Of course.”

“Alright, I’m in,” you smiled. 

“You’re a lifesaver,” he grinned. 

“Oh, I know,” you said, hyper aware of Azriel getting dressed out of sight, behind you. 

“Az and I were going to go get lunch, if you want to come?” Cassian asked.

You swore your heart started beating slightly faster. “Sure,” you said, trying to keep your voice even.

 ---

Azriel kept his features schooled into neutrality as Cassian slid out of the booth and went to the bathroom, leaving you and Azriel alone.

He racked his brain for something to say. He wasn’t great at speaking to people under normal circumstances, much less with you.

“That was a really great shot you made at the last game,” you smiled, somewhat sheepishly, Azriel thought. “I was on the edge of my seat.”

He couldn’t help but smile faintly, his heart leaping at the thought of you watching him intently on the ice, hanging on every move he made. “Thanks.”

Your eyes crinkled in amusement. “I don’t think you understand how talented you all are. I can’t even skate.”

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

You nodded. “I tried a few times when I was a kid, but I was always so clumsy. And Cassian was a natural of course, so I guess that made it harder when I kept falling over and over,” you shrugged. 

“If you wanted to learn, I could teach you,” he said, before he could even really think about it. “It took me a long time to get the hang of it, so I understand.” He added, feeling slightly flustered, but trying his best not to show it. 

Azriel felt relieved when your eyes lit up. “You would really do that?”

“Sure,” he said as nonchalantly as he could.

Your smile was bright. “I would love that. When do we start?”

“Tomorrow afternoon?” He asked. “Meet me at the rink?”

You nodded excitedly, just as Cassian came back. “What are you two meeting at the rink for?” he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow at Azriel. 

“Az is helping me finally learn to skate,” you said as Cassian slid into the booth next to you. 

“Az is? I never knew you even wanted to learn,” Cassian said, his brow furrowed. 

You shrugged. “Well, I do.”

Cassian looked between you and Azriel for a moment, somewhat skeptically, but then shrugged easily. “Okay, then.”

Azriel could understand why Cassian was a little confused. In all the years that they had been friends, you and Azriel had barely spent any time together, if only because Azriel was purposely keeping his distance from you, hoping that his feelings would eventually diminish. 

He didn’t think this little endeavor would help him get over you. 

---

Your legs felt a bit shaky as you made your way to the rink and you silently cursed yourself. Maybe this was a bad idea. Being around Azriel made you so nervous, and pairing him with ice skates could be a perfect recipe for a broken ankle.

Azriel was already there, casually skating around. You couldn't help but watch him for a moment. It seemed impossible that he had ever had a hard time skating. He looked like he was born to do it.

He glanced up and saw you there, skated over to you then came to a halt, pointing to a bench just outside the rink. “Got your skates?”

You nodded, and sat down to start putting your skates on, your movements awkward and unsure. He watched your every movement, and came over to you when you started tying.

“May I?” He asked, and you just quirked a brow. He smiled faintly. “They'll have to be a lot tighter than that if you want them to stay on.”

“Oh! Yeah, go ahead,” you said.

Azriel tied your laces quickly, with expert precision.

He offered you his hand when he was done and you took it, trying to push down the swell of excitement in your chest.

As soon as you got onto the ice, your nerves overpowered everything else. Your knees felt wobbly and you were sure you would fall down instantly.

Azriel was in front of you, skating backwards slowly, still holding your hand. You gripped Azriel for dear life and your voice shaky, you croaked out, “Azriel, I don't think I can do this.”

Worry clouded his expression, his eyes softening. “You absolutely can. But you don't have to if you don't want to. There's no pressure here, okay?”

You nodded, your eyes locked on his, on the care that he seemed to have for you. It helped you settle down a bit. “What do I do?” You asked. 

He smiled with pride and said, “Skating is all about balance. Stand with your feet shoulder width apart, and try to evenly distribute your weight between both feet.”

You did as you were told, and you already felt a bit better. He nodded with approval. “I'm going to have to let go of you for this next part, okay?”

Your eyes widened in fear, but you swallowed and nodded.

He smiled reassuringly as he slowly took his hand from yours and skated back the slightest bit. “Before you can glide, like you see most skaters do, you're going to march.”

“March?” You asked skeptically.

Azriel laughed, his face lighting up, and you felt your heart thunder in response. You weren't sure you had ever made him laugh before. “Just trust me, okay? Lift one foot up and bring it forward, then do it again with the other. This helps you learn to balance and rely on the skate that's still on the ice.”

When you hesitated, he skated closer to you, and took your hand in his again. “You've got this.”

You took a deep breath and nodded, and he took his cue to skate in front of you.

Following his instructions, you slowly and awkwardly marched, your movements unsure and wobbly, but at least you hadn't fallen yet.

“Is this how you learned to skate?” You asked, needing a distraction.

He barked out a laugh again. “No. I didn't have anybody to teach me, so I mostly just fell on my ass a lot until I figured out what to do.”

Your heart ached for little Azriel. You didn't know much about his past, but you did know it was a lonely, painful one. 

Suddenly, you wobbled significantly, and Azriel said, “Put your hands on your knees whenever you need to regain your balance.”

Quickly you dropped your hands to your knees and felt more steady.

After a while, you felt confident enough to start skating for real, and Azriel walked you through the motions, his eyes laser focused on every movement you made. 

As soon as you started trying to mimic his movements, you fell. Hard.

He winced, skating over to you. “You okay?”

You nodded, trying to keep your breathing even.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

Despite the pain, his words sent a wave of heat through you. Blinking up at him, you said, “Excuse me?”

His eyes widened slightly, the smallest smile on his face. He cleared his throat. “To get up. You need to start from your hands and knees.”

Your cheeks burned as you maneuvered yourself like he told you. You looked up at him. “Now what?”

Azriel's breathing seemed slightly labored, his eyes burning as he looked down at you. You felt like you could hardly breathe. He swallowed, then said, “Put one skate on the ice, balance yourself with your hands, then push yourself up to standing.”

You tried to follow his instructions, but as soon as you got to your feet, your balance was completely off and you would have fallen again if Azriel hadn't quickly gripped your waist, keeping you steady.

He was so close to you that you could feel the heat from his body. You looked up into his eyes, utterly mesmerized, unable to move.

For a few moments, he just held you, eyes boring into yours. Finally he said, “Ready to try again?”

“Okay,” you said quietly, but you didn't move, unwilling to be the one to pull away from him.

It took another moment for him to remove his hands from you, and you instantly felt cold at the absence of him.

Azriel skated backwards, urging you to catch up to him.

You started moving, focusing on the instructions that he gave you, your eyes continuously glancing down to your feet.

“Don't look down, just look at me,” he said gruffly.

You obeyed, your eyes latching onto his. It was steadying, his gaze. In a few moments, you actually did catch up to him, and you were so excited that you forgot to focus on your movements.

You tumbled into Azriel, bringing him down on the ice with you.

He landed on his back with a groan and you landed on top of him, your head landing on his chest.

“I'm so sorry,” you said, starting to scramble up, but his hands landed on your waist again and you couldn't bring yourself to move.

You looked into his eyes, your hands resting on his chest. Even through his sweatshirt, you could feel the hard lines of his muscles. You could hardly breathe.

He lightly brushed a lock of hair off your forehead, his eyes tracing down your face. “Don't be sorry,” he said, his voice huskier than you'd ever heard it.

Without even realizing you were doing it, you inched your face closer and closer to his, like you were being drawn in by a magnet. 

His hand cupped your cheek gently. He whispered your name. And then his lips were on yours.

An electric shock jolted through your body. You leaned even further into him as he kissed you so gently that you thought you might weep.

Your hands traveled up to his face, his hair. His fingers tightened on your waist, and he groaned quietly as you deepened the kiss. 

Suddenly, he pulled away, sitting up, sliding you off of him. “I’m sorry… We shouldn’t.”

Your heart plummeted. “Why?”

He looked pained as he saw the hurt on your face, putting distance between the two of you again. “Cassian,” he said gruffly. “He would kill me.”

“You think he would?” You asked. In all the years that you had been crushing on Azriel, you had never considered how Cassian would feel if the two of you actually got together. 

Azriel let out a humorless laugh. “You’re his little sister. He’s more protective of you than anyone else. Remember how we had to stop him from beating up that guy who broke up with you?”

You did remember. Cassian had been more mad about that breakup than you were. 

“Az,” you said, willing yourself to say the words you had been keeping to yourself for so long. “I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time… If you feel the same way, we shouldn’t let Cassian get in the way.”

His eyes widened as he studied you, his gaze lingering on your mouth. “I never knew,” he said quietly. 

Before you could say anything else, he was pulling you back into him, kissing you harder than before, his movements faster, more sure as he twined his fingers into your hair. 

You gasped at the sudden change in his demeanor. 

It was impossible to tell how long it was that you and Azriel sat on the cold ice, exploring each other for the first time. 

When he finally pulled away, gazing into your eyes, you said, “Maybe he doesn’t have to know. Not yet.”

And just like that, everything changed. 

---  

Azriel had never felt this way in his life. You and him had been sneaking around for the past several weeks, going on dates, and he could hardly believe it. 

You were incredible. Absolutely incredible, and he thanked his lucky stars every day that you were giving him the time of day. 

But then he would think about Cassian, what he would do when he found out, and Azriel would feel so incredibly panicked and guilty that he could hardly function. 

You weren't doing anything wrong. He knew that. You were two consenting adults spending time together.

The sneaking around was getting difficult though. He didn't like hiding anything from his best friend.

“You okay?” You asked beside him, threading your fingers with his.

His heart leaped at how casually you did it, how comfortable it was between you so quickly. He had taken you out to eat downtown, and now you two were taking a walk through the city, the lights twinkling, dancing off your skin.

“Fine,” he said, smiling down at you. 

“Stressing about Cassian?”

He couldn't help but laugh at how quickly you were able to read him. “I’ve just never hidden anything from him.”

You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “We can tell him, if you want to.”

“We should soon. I just don't know how he's going to react.”

You nodded, and he could tell that you were just as nervous as he was. 

He stopped you with a hand on your arm, leading you into an alcove off of the sidewalk. “It'll be okay,” he said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “We'll tell him when we're ready.” He leaned down and kissed you gently, and you leaned into him, sighing happily.

---

The day of Cassian's party rolled around, and you walked in with him, carrying a platter of appetizers that you made for him. The whole hockey team, as well as their friends and families were milling around the coach’s massive backyard.

Azriel stood out to you like a beacon in the crowd. You had always felt like you could sense his presence, no matter how many people there were or where he was in any given room. You longed to run right to him, but you knew you couldn’t. 

It was too soon, you kept telling yourself. You and Azriel were still figuring out exactly what you were, and you didn’t want to complicate things between the two of you by letting other people get involved or give their opinion. 

You knew everyone on the team at least a little bit, so you mingled through the crowd until you finally found your way over to Azriel, looking up to find that his eyes were already on you. 

“Hi,” you smiled. 

The side of his mouth quirked up slightly, and you knew he was holding in a smile. He stepped a little closer to you, and you longed to hold his hand, to touch him.

Before either of you could say anything else, Cassian strided up, grinning. “You guys wanna go eat?”

You reigned in a sigh, and focused your attention on Cassian. “Sure,” you said, following him, and shooting a smile over your shoulder at Azriel as he followed. 

The three of you each grabbed a plate of food, then settled in at a crowded picnic table. Azriel slid in next to you as Cassian took the seat opposite. 

“So, I never asked, how did those skating lessons go?” Cassian asked as he dug into his plate. 

You swallowed, and nearly jumped out of your seat as Azriel’s hand landed on your thigh, squeezing lightly. “It was good,” you said, trying to keep your voice nonchalant. 

“She’s a really great student,” Azriel said, his eyes on his plate as his thumb ran slow circles over your skin. 

You took a big drink of water to stop yourself from flushing as his hand wandered higher. 

“Seriously? How many times did you fall?” Cassian asked, clearly amused. 

Azriel’s grip tightened on your thigh, probably remembering just like you were, what had happened when you had fallen. “Only a few, actually,” you said, forcing yourself to keep your eyes locked on Cassian. 

“Impressive. You gonna be playing hockey with us anytime soon?” 

You forced out a laugh. “Definitely not. I’ll need a lot more lessons if I have any hope of that.”

Azriel finally looked at you, offering you the faintest of smiles. “Whenever you want another lesson, just let me know.”

“Okay,” you said casually, turning your attention back to your plate. 

You got through the rest of the party without incident, which was impressive considering all the lingering, discreet touches that Azriel kept giving you.

Azriel came to your apartment after the party had ended. As soon as he walked through the door, he had you up against the wall, kissing you fiercely. 

“You were driving me crazy,” you gasped as he kissed down your neck. 

He laughed into your skin. “You think you weren’t doing the same to me?”

His hands trailed from your face, down your body, lingering on your hips before landing on your ass. 

You moaned quietly, taking his hand in yours and leading him to your bedroom. 

He raised his eyebrows in question as you closed the door behind you. 

Wordlessly, you stepped up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. It started out slowly, gently, but quickly turned heated. 

Grabbing the front of his shirt, you pulled him towards your bed and fell back onto it, tugging on his hand to pull him down over you. You toyed with the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head and tossing it to the side. 

Your hands explored his abs, his shoulders, your breath catching at the pure muscle as he kissed your neck down to your collarbone. 

When your hands settled on his belt buckle and started undoing it, Azriel caught your wrist, stilling you. He looked into your eyes, flooded with emotion. “Are you sure?”

You cupped his cheek, studying his face for a moment, your heart swelling with love. “I’m sure.” 

He smiled for a moment, leaning in to kiss you gently before he let go of your wrist. Your hands wandered back down and slowly undid his belt buckle, pushing his pants down past his hips, and he kicked them off from there, not breaking his kiss. 

He pulled back slightly to look at you as he slid the straps of your dress down your arms, kissing your bare shoulders, your exposed chest. He slid your dress down further, just past your breasts. He hummed happily as he ran his tongue over one nipple, his fingers toying with the other. Your toes curled as he raked his teeth along your chest. 

Azriel kept pulling your dress down slowly, kissing his way gently down your stomach, down your legs, until the dress was tossed to the floor. 

“You’re everything,” he murmured, his gaze raking down your naked body. 

You smiled, your heart thundering as you placed your hands on either side of his face and pulled him into a kiss. 

He kissed his way back down your body then, pausing momentarily at your panties, before looking up to you with a smirk, and pulling them down your legs with his teeth.

You gasped as he settled between your legs, licking a line straight up your center, before his tongue dove into you, while his thumb pressed on your clit. 

“Azriel,” you moaned, burying your hands in his hair. 

This just spurred him on further, as he took your ankles in his hands and wrapped your legs around his head, burying himself even deeper in you. 

“Az,” you groaned after a while. “I need you.”

He looked up at you, grinning, before sitting up on his knees, sliding his boxers off, and settling himself over you, his eyes locked on yours. “You ready for me?”

You nodded, your hand threading through the hair at the back of his neck as the other clutched his shoulder. “Please.”

Azriel smiled, nuzzling your nose with his for a moment before he kissed you sweetly, as he slowly slid into you inch by inch. 

He paused when he was fully inside you, pulling back slightly to study your face. 

“I’m good,” you smiled. “More. Now. Please.”

He chuckled, then did as he was told, sliding in and out of you in slow, deep thrusts. 

You groaned, your hands sliding down his muscled back as he leaned down, resting his head in the crook of your neck, sighing contentedly into your skin. 

Together you moved in tandem, until you both found your release, gasping. 

Azriel rolled off of you, pulling your body against his, holding you close. You felt so safe and content, you couldn’t believe it had taken the two of you so long to get to this point.

---

The locker room was empty before the game started. His teammates knew that Azriel often liked to be alone, especially before important games. If they won tonight, they would be in the playoffs. Tensions were high for everyone. 

He was pulling his gear on when you came up behind him, leaning against one of the lockers. You were wearing the team’s colors, your hair tied up with red and gold ribbons, just like the first time he saw you. His heart leaped, as it always did. “How are you feeling?” You asked. 

Azriel shrugged, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you to him, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Better now that you’re here.”

You smiled, leaning into his chest. “You’ve got it, Az.” 

He placed his index finger under your chin, gently tilting your face up to look at him. “Thank you for being here,” he said, kissing you softly. 

Suddenly, you heard someone coming into the locker room, and the two of you sprung apart. Azriel ushered you out the opposite door, into the hallway, near the locker room for the other team.

The two of you breathed a sigh of relief, and Azriel couldn’t help but bring your body to his again. It calmed him down, settled his nerves, to be close to you. 

You tilted your face up to meet his lips in a kiss, and the world melted away until a player from the other team walked out of the locker room, smirking at the two of you. 

“Casey,” Azriel said, his hand resting on the small of your back, trying to keep his cool. He didn’t know Casey well, but he did know that he was an asshole.

Casey looked between the two of you, smirking, before sauntering away without a word. 

Azriel immediately located you as he and his team went out onto the ice. You were out of your seat, clapping and cheering, your eyes locked on him, your smile bright. 

By the second period, Azriel’s team was up two to one, and the other team seemed to be feeling the heat. 

Casey smirked at Azriel as they faced off before the buzzer sounded. “Who was that you were getting cozy with, huh Azriel? Didn't seem like you wanted anyone to know you were with her.”

Azriel knew that he was being baited. He tried to reign in his temper, to keep his cool. He tried to remind himself how important this game was, that he couldn’t afford a penalty right now. 

But then Casey said, “I can see why. She's not exactly spotlight material, is she?”

A growl released from deep in Azriel’s throat, and he launched himself at Casey, slamming him into the ice, before reeling his arm back and connecting his fist with Casey’s jaw. 

Within moments, he was being pulled away and sent to the penalty box, his head spinning, wondering how the hell he was going to explain this to his teammates, to Cassian. He cursed himself for letting Casey get to him, for knowing exactly which buttons to push. 

---

Luckily, they still won the game, despite Azriel’s outburst at the beginning of the final period. You couldn’t comprehend what could have possibly happened to get this reaction from him, and you felt awful as you watched him sitting solemnly in the penalty box while Cassian tried to pull the team together and keep their lead. 

You left right after the game, not wanting to get involved in whatever you knew would go down between Azriel and Cassian. 

Later, after Azriel asked you to come over to his apartment, you practically raced over there, dying to know what happened. 

As soon as he opened the door, his arms were around you, holding you to him like you were the only thing keeping his feet on the ground. 

“Are you okay?” 

He sighed, kissing the top of your head. “I’m getting there. Cassian chewed me out, but I think we’re okay.”

“What happened?” You asked. 

“It was the guy who saw us out in the hallway. He was… he was talking about you. I knew he was baiting me, but I still couldn’t keep it in.”

“It was because of me?”

“No,” he said, running his thumb along your cheekbone. “It was because of him. He just must have known what would make me mad.”

You stood up on your tiptoes to kiss him lightly. “I’m sorry. What did you tell Cassian?”

“That I was feeling tense because of the playoffs, and he baited me,” he raised one shoulder into a shrug. “He didn’t ask for specifics.”

“Well, I’m glad you guys are okay. Congrats on making the playoffs, by the way,” you smiled. 

Azriel smiled faintly, leaning down to kiss you sweetly. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

You sighed, leaning into him further. “We’re going to have to tell him.”

“I know,” he said. “Soon.”

The two of you looked at each other, anchoring yourselves in one another. 

---

For weeks, Azriel had been traveling all over the country with the team for the playoffs, and the two of you had kept in contact as much as possible, face timing whenever Azriel could get alone and texting as often as he could.

Finally, they were playing at home again, the last game before the championship. You didn't want to be a distraction for Az, so you went right to your seat, as close to the ice as you could get. 

You watched them play with bated breath, your eyes glued to Azriel as he soared across the ice. Just before the end of the second period, Azriel made a slapshot, the puck flying right between the goalie's legs and into the net, bringing your team ahead by one. 

The fans erupted into a thunderous applause and as the buzzer sounded, Azriel's eyes locked on you, a grin on his face, his eyes shining. You had no idea how he always managed to find you in a sea of people, but it sent butterflies through your chest every single time.

The energy was high as the players moved into the final period. It seemed like Az's team would take the win without much of a fight from the opponents until the unimaginable happened.

The opponent’s center roughly checked Azriel's shoulder, and when Az stumbled, the center slammed Azriel into the wall, hard. Azriel collapsed onto the ground and another player collided with him.

Even from where you were, you could hear Azriel cry out as he brought his leg up to his chest, wincing in pain.

“Azriel!” You shot up from your seat immediately, racing to the other side of the tunnel where you knew they would take him, praying that they would let you through.

In the chaos, nobody batted an eye at you, and you were waiting for him when Azriel limped into the tunnel, the coach and Cassian holding him up on either side. 

“Az!” You cried, tears brimming in your eyes as you ran up to him, unable to think about the consequences, or anything other than him. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck as gently as you could, and he snaked an arm around your waist. “I'm okay,” he said.

Cassian looked between the two of you, his brow furrowed. “What are you freaking out about? It's probably just a sprain.”

“Oh,” you said hesitantly, forcing yourself to take a step back, out of reach. You looked up at Azriel though. “Are you sure? You looked like you were in a lot of pain.”

He smiled faintly at you, his eyes twinkling. You could tell that he appreciated that you were concerned about him. “Nothing I can't handle.”

Cassian continued to look between the two of you skeptically, then cleared his throat. “I need to get back out there.”

Azriel nodded to both Cassian and their coach. “I can make it by myself.”

They seemed to hesitate, but nodded, and you helped Azriel make his way to see the medics. 

After his ankle was wrapped and it was proven to be just a sprain, you sat with Azriel, running your hand through his hair, leaning against him.

“You were really worried about me back there, huh?” He smiled, kissing your temple.

“Of course I was! I--” you broke off hastily, stopping yourself from saying what you had been feeling for weeks now.

He looked at you expectantly though, raising an eyebrow. “You… what?”

You took a deep breath, and looked into his eyes, placing a hand on his cheek. “I love you, Az.”

His eyes swarmed with emotions for a moment before a smile lit up his face and he kissed you. “I love you, too,” he said.

Moments later, the team rushed into the space, whooping and cheering.

You grinned at Azriel, “Looks like you guys are going to the championship.”

Azriel's smile grew, and he pulled you to him, laughing, before kissing the top of your head.

“I knew it,” Cassian's voice cut through the noise, and you and Azriel froze, looking up to find him staring at the two of you.

“Cass-” you started, but he cut you off.

“What the fuck, guys? How long has this been going on?”

You glanced at Azriel, who settled his hand at your waist comfortingly before looking up to Cassian. “A few months.” 

“Months?” Cassian asked incredulously. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“We weren't sure how you would react,” you said quietly, shrinking into Azriel's side slightly.

Cassian scoffed. “You know what's worse than my best friend dating my little sister? Both of them lying to me about it for months.”

“Cass-” you tried again, but he held up a hand to stop you.

“If we keep talking about this now, I'm going to say something I'll regret,” he said, his voice low. 

He left without another word, throwing a final harrowing glance back at the two of you.

Your heart sank.

---

For days, Cassian avoided Azriel at practice, and from what he’d heard, Cassian wasn’t talking to you at all either. 

“Come on, Cass,” Azriel groaned after practice. “Please talk to me?”

Cassian rounded on him, his eyes burning. “About what? What do you want to talk about?” he said furiously. But then all the tension left his body suddenly and he just looked at Azriel sadly. “She’s my sister, Az. How could you keep this from me?”

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We thought it would be best until we… figured things out. We didn’t want to get you all freaked out if it didn’t go anywhere.”

“And is it? Going anywhere?” Cassian asked. 

Azriel swallowed, he felt his jaw tick. “I love her, Cassian. And she loves me.”

Cassian swore, rolling his eyes. “So at what point were you going to tell me?”

“I -- don’t know,” Azriel said honestly. “I’m so sorry. We both are.”

They were both silent for a moment, until Cassian blew out a breath and said, “Just give me some time, okay? I’m happy for you both, but… I’m going to need time to stop being pissed at you both for lying to me.”

Azriel nodded, partially relieved. Time, he could handle. 

The championship game finally came, and though Azriel and Cassian weren’t quite at the point that they used to be, things were slowly getting better between them. 

Cassian gathered the team before the game, hyping them up, always the strong captain leading his troops into battle. 

The game went by quickly, and every time Azriel would feel some pain in his ankle or get caught up in the stress or the pressure, his eyes would find you, and your smile would ground him, help him lock back into the game, to the task at hand. 

There were only a few seconds left in the game when Azriel found an opening, slapping the puck past the goalie and into the net. 

The crowd cheered, but Azriel only had eyes for you. You formed your hands into a heart and held it up toward him as you cheered, blowing him a kiss. 

The final buzzer sounded off, and everyone celebrated around him, yelling and thumping their chests, thrusting their hockey sticks into the air. Cassian was about to hand him the trophy, but Azriel smirked before skating over to where you were waiting on the sidelines, lifting you up and setting you onto the ice before bending you over his arm and kissing you like he’s never kissed anyone before. 

He could feel you smile against his lips, your hands gripping him for dear life. 

Later, after interviews and photos and speeches, Azriel pulled his jersey over his head and tossed it to you. 

You looked up at him, your eyes dancing with amusement before you slipped it over your head. It was huge on you, and you laughed as you rolled up the sleeves and the hem, tucking it into the front of your jeans. 

“How does it look?”

He growled quietly, pulling your body into his. “Like I want to hear you scream my name while you wear nothing but the jersey.”

Your eyes widened, biting your lip. 

Before Azriel could get any further into his fantasies though, Cassian sauntered up to the two of you, smiling. 

“Hey, it’s my brother, the captain of the champions!” you grinned, bounding up to him and giving him a hug. 

Cassian grinned, wrapping his arms around you. 

“Look,” he said, leveling you both with a serious expression as you pulled away and went back to Azriel’s side. “I love you both, and I’m happy for you, so I’m not going to hold a grudge. It must be the real thing if Az just blew off the trophy like it was nothing,” Cassian smirked at Azriel. “But don’t lie to me ever again,” he said. 

“We won’t,” you cut in quickly, looking at Cassian with pleading eyes. “We’re so sorry, Cass.”

“I know you are,” Cassian said. “Now, let’s go celebrate, shall we?”

Azriel guided you through the huge party long into the night, not taking his hand off you for a moment, showing the whole world who his heart belonged to.

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @melmo567 @evergreenlark @ecliphttlunar @bookloverandalsocats @headacheseason @sillysillygoose444 @yourqueenlilith @mariamay02 @halibshepherd @azrielshadows1nger @cigvrette-dvydrevms @andreperez11

#acotar fic #acotar one shot #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel one shot #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #azriel imagine #azriel modern au #azriel hockey #azriel smut #azriel fic #azriel fanfiction #request

[likeumeanit9497]

please baby | c. s. |

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: chris and y/n have always had what felt like a perfect relationship. that is, until a few weeks ago. chris had been treating y/n poorly, and after one especially hurtful conversation, she is forced to make a difficult decision. when chris comes to the realization that he is about to lose it all, will he swallow his pride and do what he needs to win her back?

warnings: established relationship; smut; angst; fighting; (relatively) toxic chris; crying; unprotected sex; fluff; 18+

notes: based on this request by 🎀. i've never rlly written an angsty fic before, so let me know what u all think! also wrote this super quick so i don't think it's my best work, but still i hope u enjoy <333

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

Through tears, I stared blankly at my phone. My eyes had been glued to my lit up screen for the past two minutes — unmoving, and unable to register what I was reading. Even with blurry vision, Chris’ last message to me was seared into my memory.

Chris: Ffs Y/n, just shut up. I said I’ll get there when i get there jesus.

Just as my brimmed tears finally spilled over, so did the water I was boiling on the stove. The immediate steam and sizzling noises pulled me from my phone, and frustrated for more than one reason, I raced over to the stove and shoved the pot off of the element; leaving the boiling pasta noodles to sit in the water. Just looking at my failed attempt at dinner brought on a new level of pain, as it was a reminder of what I hoped that the night could be.

Chris, my boyfriend of almost one year, was supposed to be coming over tonight. I had been super excited, because both of our schedules had been especially busy lately and we hadn’t been able to spend much time together over the past three weeks, plus I had some good news to share with him about my work. I had wanted to make the night special, so I had decided to cook one of Chris’ favourite meals — chicken alfredo — to surprise him with once he arrived.

He was currently stuck at the warehouse for a merch meeting with Nick, Matt, and his manager, and he had told me that he would come over and spend the night once he was done there. That was a few hours ago, and I had been patiently waiting for an update from him until about thirty minutes ago, when I sent him a simple message asking if he had any idea when he would be done at the warehouse. Little did I know, that singular message would cause a massive storm to erupt.

Y/n: hey babe! just wondering if you have an idea on when you can come over?

Chris: Not rlly sure

Y/n: okay…rough estimate maybe?

Y/n: just have some things i need to get done before u get here hehe

Chris: I’ll get there when I get there.

Y/n: uh..is something wrong?

Chris: No why

Y/n: ur being kinda mean???

Chris: No I’m not

Y/n: ok

Chris: My god Y/n I don’t have time for this rn

Y/n: i just said ok

Y/n: you go ahead and go back to your meeting

Y/n: i was just asking for an update, that’s all.

Y/n: didn’t realize that was such a horrible thing.

Chris: Ffs Y/n, just shut up. I said I’ll get there when i get there jesus.

Even though I hate to admit it, this wasn’t the first time that Chris had been an absolute asshole to me lately. Just last week, he had started a fight that ended with him hanging up the phone on me; only to call back a little while later to apologize. And then a few days before that, he had put zero effort into making time for me when I had tried to make plans for us to go to the movies. And during all of this, he has been incredibly dry over messages. It had been bothering me for a while now, because to me it was clear that he was losing interest. I knew that our relationship would be far from perfect going in to it, considering Chris had never been in a real relationship before me, but deep down I hoped that it would always be as perfect as it was at the beginning. Unfortunately for my hopes and dreams, his actions — or lack thereof — were shattering.

I wasn’t some oblivious girlfriend either; it was clear to me that Chris was going through something. I knew that for a fact, but every time I tried to get him to open up to me about it all, he shut me down with lame excuses: “Oh, I’m just tired,” or, “I’ve just been stressed lately”. I figured that he just needed time, and that eventually he would come to me and explain exactly what had been going on so that I could help him through it.

But now, after his hurtful words to me tonight, I was seriously considering my other options. I had been in far too many toxic relationships in the past, and had learned that I deserve more than what I had been accepting. I wouldn’t let myself be Chris’ punching bag anymore, and I knew right then and there that I had an incredibly painful task to do.

Allowing myself to be overtaken by my build up of tears, I slowly walked into my bedroom; turning off the lights and covering myself with my comforter. My shoulders heaved as I let the tears stream down my face; my brain accepting what I needed to do but my body rejecting it in every way possible. Through the tears, I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to Chris — telling him that I was tired and that he might as well not come at all tonight, but we should talk tomorrow — before curling into a ball and wallowing in my own sorrows.

I stayed in the exact same position for what felt like ages; allowing myself to get all of the emotions out now so that when I had to do what I had to do tomorrow I could do so without breaking down so hard. Eventually, my tears slowed and I felt my burning eyes begin to grow heavy. Sleep was beginning to overtake me, and as I gave into my exhaustion my mind filled with scenes of the nightmare that I was going to have to face tomorrow.

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

I was startled out of my sleep by the sound of keys jangling from the direction of my front door. Disoriented, it took me a moment to be overtaken by the feeling of dread that came from hearing that noise. The only person who had a key to my apartment was Chris. Before, hearing his keys at my door filled my stomach with undeniable excitement — now, my stomach did anxious flips knowing what had to be done.

As I heard the door open and close, I rolled over so that I was facing away from my bedroom door and glued my eyes shut; pretending to still be asleep. I heard his soft footsteps on the other side of the door as he wandered through my dark apartment, before a hushed “shit!” broke the silence. After a few moments, I listened as his footsteps grew closer and closer to my bedroom door, and as I heard it slowly creak open, I braced for impact.

The room stayed silent, though I couldn’t really say that for sure since I couldn’t hear anything above the sound of my own racing heart in my ears. I did my best to stay completely still, though it felt like every part of my body was vibrating; waiting for his next move. Suddenly, I felt a shift in my mattress as his body leaned against it, and physically jumped at the feeling of his hand on my shoulder; shaking it gently.

“Y/n, wake up.” He spoke in a faux whisper, and, even though I had been pretending, I felt my body grow hot in anger that he would have the audacity to wake me from my sleep after showing up to my apartment uninvited. However, my body still not understanding that it wouldn’t belong to him much longer, I shot up from my place on the bed and searched for his eyes. The room was pitch black, but I could sense exactly where he was in front of me.

Rubbing my eyes, I searched the bed for my phone, checking the time to find that it was already nearly 2 a.m. I felt the mattress shift once again and watched his faint outline as he sat on his side of my bed. “Y/n, you left the stove on.” He was still whispering, and his sentence ended in a slight chuckle; clearly oblivious to the decision that I had made on my own just hours before.

Too heartbroken to really care about the stove, I shrugged my shoulders. “Whoops.” Was all I said to the silent room. “What happened? You fall asleep in the middle of making dinner or something?” His voice was still light-hearted, and was far from a tone that matched his previous texts to me. It made it so difficult for me to remember what I had to do.

“Turn the lamp on please.” I said simply, using every ounce of strength in my body to keep my tone monotonous. Chris stayed still for a moment, clearly thrown off by my behaviour. “Uh, okay.” He finally said as he leaned toward the bedside table closest to him and switched on the warm-toned light. After allowing my eyes time to adjust to the sudden brightness, they immediately fell on him.

Oh, my Chris.

His beautiful blue eyes were so kind and bright, his long hair was wet and messily draped across his forehead, and his matching oversized sweat set made me want nothing more than to curl into him and breathe him in. He stared at me blankly for a moment, clearly beginning to register that I was upset, before finally speaking. “I’m really sorry about earlier, baby. I had been in the meeting for hours and was getting really stressed out.” I felt the lump in my throat begin to grow. Some variation of that exact sentence had been the same excuse he had given me each and every time he had hurt me over the past few weeks, and it had lost its sincerity long ago. So, instead of giving into his cheap apology, I sat up in my bed and faced him; taking a deep breath before speaking.

“I have to tell you something. And I need you to let me say this without interrupting, or else I’m scared I won’t be able to go through with it. I’ve had to say this for a while now, and now that we are where we are I know it has to be done. So please, let me say it, okay?” His light eyes were focused intensely on me, he was clearly trying to figure out where this conversation was going. But finally, he swallowed before tentatively nodding his head. “O-okay.”

I closed my eyes, feeling my lower lip quiver as I tried to find my footing on this conversation. After taking a shaky breath, I finally found my voice. “I can’t do this anymore, Chris.” Immediately, my attempt at getting all my tears out of the way earlier proved to be a failure; because as soon as the heavy words left my mouth I broke down into sobs.

Over my crying, I heard Chris’ disbelieving voice. “What do you mean you’re done with this? With what? Me?” His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, clearly being hit with the same emotions that I was. I stayed silent — my eyes screwed shut as I wrapped my arms around my torso; doing my best to comfort myself. “Y/n, please tell me what you’re talking about.” He pleaded, and I felt him scoot closer to me on the bed; placing a hesitant hand on my knee.

After catching my breath, I wiped my tears away and opened my eyes to find his frantically searching my face like an uncertain creature. “I know you’re going through something right now,” My voice was coming out nearly silent, but I continued, “And I tried so hard to be there for you, I really did Chris. But you won’t talk to me! Instead, you’ve been taking out all of your frustrations on me and treating me like absolute shit. Do you really think that’s okay?” I fought the lump in my throat as I got my words out, his shattered face no help in that department. Frantically, Chris shook his head. “No. No, it’s not okay, baby, and I’m really sorry. But please, please don’t do this.” His tone tugged at my heart strings as his desperation grew more and more transparent.

Shaking my head and closing my eyes, I shut him down. “Can you tell me why you’ve been acting the way you have?” I knew my question was pointless before I even asked it, but his silence confirmed it. Releasing an ironic chuckle, I continued. “I promised myself that I would never let another man treat me badly. I’ve put up with it far too many times, and no matter how much I love you, Chris, I can’t allow you to speak to me the way you have been lately.”

I opened my eyes and felt my heart sink at his ghostly expression, clearly on the verge of losing his shit. I brought a hand up to his cheek and stroked it for a moment, and as I did he closed his eyes and let a few tears fall. “I want you to get better, I really do. But I clearly can’t help you, so you need to do it on your own.” My own words felt like a stab in the chest, and I couldn’t help the tears as they streamed down my face. “Come to me when you’ve worked through your shit, and we can see if we can repair things. But for now, I need you to leave.”

At that, Chris’ eyes shot open in a panic and he immediately grabbed onto my leg. “No, Y/n, please. Don’t do this.” I turned my head away from him as his desperation became too much to bear. His hands traveled across my body in anguish, clearly losing all control of his emotions as the reality of our situation began to set in for him. His body slid off of the bed as he dissolved into tears against my comforter. Still having the instinct to comfort him, I scooted towards the edge of the bed, where I let my legs stretch out beside him as I ran my hands through his beautiful curls.

“Please, please baby, I swear to god I can’t do this shit without you.” He wretchedly pleaded with me, clutching my leg and trailing distressed kisses along it. I looked up at the sky, too pained by the scene that was playing out in front of me. “Chris, please, I need you to go.” I begged him, needing to put him out of his misery so that I could hurt in private. He maintained his grasp on my leg, sobbing inconsolably against it. I gave him a moment, in which he slowly began to regain control of his emotions. I watched as his sobbing grew quieter and his breathing slowed, before finally watching as he pulled himself up to his feet; the weight of our conversation evident in the way he held himself weakly.

He glanced down at me quickly, his blue eyes red and puffy, before turning away in what looked like shame. In utter silence, he turned and began walking slowly in the direction of my bedroom door. With his hand on the door knob, he paused for a moment. “I’m sorry.” His words were so quiet I could have easily missed them, but the sincerity cut through my heart like a knife. That sincerity hadn’t been present in any of the other apologies he gave me, and I was gutted that it appeared too late.

And then just like that, he was gone. I felt all the air leave my chest at the realization of what I had just done, and let my body fall back against my bed as tears once again poured down my cheeks. I couldn’t help but immediately question whether or not I had done the right thing. Was I a horrible person for abandoning the man I loved when he was so clearly dealing with something? Did I allow my fears of repeating my past distort my current reality? Were the things he said to me really that bad?

I was pulled out of my tormenting thoughts by a soft voice coming from my doorway.

“My meeting today wasn’t about merch.”

That was all that he said. That was all it took for my heart to begin to beat for him again. One small hint of vulnerability. Feeling humiliated internally, I sat up on my elbows and found him hovering in the doorway. “Talk to me about it Chris.” I sounded exacerbated even to my own ears, feeling frustrated from all of the overwhelming emotions that the evening held. Tentatively, he walked over to the bed and sat beside me on the edge, arms resting on his knees. After clearing his throat, he began to explain. “The meeting today wasn’t about merch, it wasn’t really about anything to be honest.” Confused, I waited in silence for him to continue.

“A few weeks ago, Laura brought up the idea of going on another tour. A European tour.” He paused for a moment. “Nick and Matt immediately agreed and wanted to start planning everything so that we could do it this summer, but I said I didn’t want to do it.” I watched the back of his head, slightly shocked by his words since I knew that he had enjoyed the previous tours so much. “We would be overseas for a month, and I didn’t want to be so far away from you for that long. So I told them I didn’t wanna do it.” He took a deep breath. “Now, Matt and Nick are super pissed at me. They’ve both been giving me the silent treatment for weeks outside of the few times when they’ve just tore me a new one. And sure, we’ve all fought before, but never this bad. It’s been going on for so long, and I feel like I’ve lost sight of everything without having them be there for me.” His voice grew thick with emotion, and I fought the urge to cry along with him.

“Things have gotten so bad between us, that Laura forced us all to come in tonight to basically have a supervised argument. We sat there for hours, Y/n, just screaming at each other. And we got nowhere. I stood firm in what I wanted and so did they, so that’s why it went on for so long. And that’s also why I have been treating you like a complete dick lately. Because even though you had no clue what was going on, I think a part of me was kinda blaming you for all this shit. And I know that wasn’t fair, I really do. I just didn’t know how to tell you all of this because I’ve never been in a situation like this before.”

He turned to look at me, grabbing at my hand that was lying dormant in the space between us. “And I’m so, so sorry that I treated you the way I did. You didn’t deserve it. At all. But please baby, please don’t leave me. Because if you do, I will be completely lost. You are my anchor, and I need you to be there for me.” Tears rolled down my face as his voice cracked in desperation. “And I swear, baby, I won’t treat you like shit ever again. If you can’t believe me, and if you’re really truly done, I’ll understand. But please, Y/n, if there’s any part of you that believes me, please don’t leave.” He dropped his head into my lap, wrapping his arm around my waist and gripping onto my oversized t-shirt. Out of instinct, I brought my hand to his face and began stroking it softly; wiping away his tears as I did.

We stayed that way for a long time, both of us sniffling, heaving messes. I couldn’t lie, his honesty truly impacted me. I knew that he had to have gone against every single one of his instincts to finally tell me what had been going on in his life, and the fact that he did meant so much to me. I knew that Chris was extremely reliant on his brothers being a constant in his life, and couldn’t even imagine how lost he must feel knowing that they’re against him. His problem was much more severe than I thought it would have been prior to him opening up, and I felt an overwhelming amount of empathy for him. I knew that his poor treatment of me — as wrong as it was — had been completely out of character, and as I sat there stroking his soft cheek, I decided that I would believe him.

“Come up here.” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Immediately, Chris lifted his head off of my thighs and sat up, his face inches from mine. Without a moment of hesitation, I leaned forward and engulfed his lips with my own. He immediately reciprocated, and both of our tongues worked in unison to lap up the salty taste of each other’s tears. Chris leaned forward, encouraging me to fall back against my pillows as he continued his passionate assault on my lips. His mouth travelled down my neck, where I shuddered as I felt him place sucks and nibbles sure to leave a trail of purple bruises. His body was warm on top of mine, and I had never before felt so present with him; so aware of his every movement.

He moved down my body, stopping briefly at my chest to remove my shirt, before continuing down below my waist. With his tongue, he created a path from just below my belly button to my right hip bone, where he left another purple bruise; causing my skin to break out in goose bumps. Lifting my hips, he wasted no time in pulling my boy shorts off of my body and leaving me completely bare. He continued to leave gentle kisses along each square inch of my body surrounding my core, but making sure to leave the place where I needed his mouth the most completely untouched.

I began to grow impatient, my body temperature increasing as my body filled with arousal. As he placed a kiss on my inner thigh, I bucked my hips up in frustration; practically begging for contact. Noticing my agitation, Chris almost immediately obliged, and I gasped out in pleasure as his tongue began working its magic against my clit. With each hand holding up my thighs, Chris swirled his tongue relentlessly against my bundle of nerves. I struggled to keep my body still as his movements continued, and failed miserably once he inserted two of his fingers into my core. “Fuck Chris, t-that’s so good.” I moaned out as his tongue and fingers worked my cunt in harmony. The wet sounds of my arousal grew louder and louder as I began to approach my orgasm, and in reflex my hands tangled in his hair; doing everything I could to keep him exactly where I needed him.

“Gonna cum, baby.” I cried out, and his encouraging hum against my clit was enough to get me there. My back arched off of the bed as my body began to convulse. To keep me in place, Chris took his free hand and placed it firmly on my lower stomach; causing me to scream out in pleasure. His mouth and fingers continued to push me through my orgasm, and didn’t stop even after my nerves became over sensitive. “C-Chris please. Can’t take anymore.” I struggled to get out the words, but he listened. Detaching his mouth from my core, he dragged his body back up my own and came face to face with me.

With the glean of my arousal still on his lips, he kissed me so deep I felt my lungs inflate. I could taste myself on his tongue, and my eyes nearly rolled to the back of my head from the intensity of the moment. I broke the kiss for only a moment to pull his hoodie over his head; relishing in the feeling of his bare chest against my own. Through his sweatpants, I could feel his bulging member press against my pelvis, and I reached in between our bodies and pulled his waistband down along with his boxers. Now completely free, his cock dribbled pre-cum down my stomach. With my hand still between us, I collected what was left of his fluid along his slit before slowly stroking my hand up and down his swollen shaft.

His breath hitched as I continued my movements, and he thoughtlessly bucked his hips into my hand to increase the friction along his trembling member. My hand twisted around his dick for a few more pumps, before I slowly guided it down toward my entrance. Once Chris felt the heat of my core at the tip of his cock, he looked down at me with darkened eyes — still slightly puffy from his previous tears — and dropped his jaw as he began to slide into me.

I gasped at the feeling of my walls stretching around his sizeable girth, and released a breathy moan as he bottomed out. Laying on top of me, he grabbed both sides of my face in between his hands and held it firmly as he began thrusting into me. His eyes never left mine as his hips rolled into me, and I watched in ecstasy at the pleasure visible on his face — as I’m sure he was doing to me. Our bodies smacked together in a steady rhythm and the wet sounds filled the room, adding an additional sensation to my arousal.

“I-I’m so sorry, baby.” Grunted Chris through deep thrusts. “It’s — oh fuck — it’s okay Chris.” I replied as I wrapped my legs around his waist. “Just please — please tell me you’re mine.” His voice sounded desperate and choppy, most likely caused by a combination of arousal and real distress. His choice of words and the tone at which he said them caused my stomach to do a flip, and I felt my second orgasm approach. Fighting the urge to give into the overwhelming feeling, I reached up and swiped his glistening lip with my thumb. “I’m yours baby, always.” I managed to respond through my cries of pleasure. Chris smiled down at me lazily before burying his face in my neck; leaving sloppy, breathy kisses along its thin skin.

My walls began to pulse and my skin started to feel like it was being lit on fire; both clear signs that I was extremely overstimulated as I was approaching my orgasm. “Shit, gonna cum again.” I blurted out just as I was hit with a tsunami of an orgasm. My legs tightened around his waist and my nails dug into his arms as I fought to keep my head above water, but my mind grew fuzzy as I spewed guttural profanities into the room as I came in waves.

It didn’t take long for Chris’ orgasm to follow, and that was made clear by his throaty grunts and sloppy pace before he stopped entirely; shouting breathless 'I love yous' into my neck as his cock shot its warm fluid deep inside of me. He eventually pulled out, before curling two fingers into me and shoving all of our conjoined juices up to my cervix. His eyes stayed glued to my cunt as he did so, seemingly in awe of the view.

“You’re all mine, and I’m all yours.” He said it so quiet that he might have just been saying it to himself, before he leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on the crest of my heat; earning a full-body flinch from me.

He came back up to the top of the bed where he laid down beside me, pulling me towards his chest and running a hand up and down my naked back. I felt so secure in his arms — his familiar smell filling my nostrils and calming my mind — that I nearly forgot everything that had happened prior to the past 15 minutes or so. That is, until he spoke.

“So, are we okay?” His voice was tentative, and he was very clearly afraid to hear my answer. I uncurled myself from his body so that I could look up at his lovely face, his desperate eyes scanning my poker face for any sort of hint.

“You will never, ever, speak to me like that again, no matter what.” I kept my voice firm, even when his face immediately relaxed into a grin. “I swear, I won’t baby.” He responded, trying to tuck me back into his chest, but I pushed back slightly. “And, I need you to talk to me about shit you’re going through, Chris. I’m your girlfriend. That’s my job. You need to promise me, you will come to me about anything, and I will do everything I can to help you through it.” He continued to gaze at me, though his wavering eyes and his chewing on his lower lip made it clear that the idea made him anxious. “Promise me, Chris.” I repeated, making it clear how serious I was.

Finally, Chris nodded his head. “I promise, baby. I’ll tell you everything.” I smiled, then, finally feeling secure in our relationship for the first time in weeks. “Then yes, we’re okay.” I responded before planting a soft kiss to his pink lips. “And you and your brothers are going to be okay, too.” His worried expression deepened at the reminder of his conflict with Nick and Matt. “We’ll talk about it more tomorrow once we get some rest, but we can make the tour work. You know, I’ve always wanted to visit Europe.” I watched as his lips began to turn up into a soft smile. “Plus,” I leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “I wouldn’t mind being your groupie.”

He dissolved into giggles at that. “But what about your job?” He asked tentatively. I shrugged. “I actually got promoted today. I was gonna tell you earlier, but y’know.” His face fell momentarily. “I got a raise, but more importantly I got more benefits. Including thirty vacation days.” His face lit up once again, and it was almost like I could see the weight lift off of his shoulders before he attacked my face with kisses. “So let’s have another meeting with Laura and your brothers tomorrow and work this all out. I can come, and we can fix this easily together.” Tears welled in his eyes, and he nodded his head before kissing me hard. “I love you, Y/n.”

I curled myself back into his chest and sighed, taking in the feeling of him mindlessly drawing random shapes on my back. This was the Chris that I knew and loved, and I knew that this is who he really was. He wasn’t perfect, but I never expected him to be. Problems come with every relationship, and of course there was never any guarantee, but I had a feeling that this night would vastly change our relationship for the better.

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo fluff

[goodoldfashionedengineer]

I got reminded by this post by @kittykatninja321 just how much emotional development Jason is missing

Jason was dead for half a year

Batman Annual #25

"Six months later"

Then he was transported to a hospital because he was still severely injured after having crawled out of his own grave

Batman Annual #25

"One year later"

He spends some time homeless on the streets, still catatonic, going on pure instincts. Which lasted also for a year

Batman Annual #25

"One Year Later"

Around that time, Talia found out about him via some of her informants and let him be brought to the league. He spends a year there, still catatonic.

Batman Annual #25

"One Year Later"

It is only around this time that Talia pushes Jason into the Lazarus Pit.

Add all of that up and you get 3.5 years that Jason has missed out on social development.

This places him emotionally younger than Tim.

Because when Tim became Robin, he was 13 years old and Jason had only been dead for a few months, meaning their age gap is only 2 years. 3 years at max.

You want to add more angst?

Jason was around twelve when he became Robin. He was ~15½ years old when he died. Meaning, he spent almost as much time being Robin as he was catatonic

#jason todd #red hood #dc #dc comics #batman comics #tim drake #robin #batman

[kaiijo]

ROMANCE TROPES — [HAIKYUU]

characters: hinata shoyo, miya atsumu, bokuto koutarou, sakusa kiyoomi content: gn! reader, the msby four, rich sakusa (i am a rich sakusa truther until the end), bokuto picks you up, sakusa is implied to be taller than you notes: omg i lowkey want to do a fuller version of sakusa’s part 

hinata shoyo ✶ love at first sight

slouched in a plastic airport seat, hinata’s leg bounces anxiously as he awaits his flight. rain beats down the side of the windows and he prays to whatever universal force there is that the flight leaves at the right time. he couldn’t fly with everyone else earlier since he celebrated his grandmother’s birthday with family but it put him on a late night flight that lined up with an incoming storm. 

he scrolls mindlessly through his social media feed, double-tapping a photo of oikawa’s reunion with his high school team and tanaka’s anniversary post for kiyoko. 

the speaker system crackles to life. “attention, passengers of flight 7644 to sapporo, due to inclement weather conditions, the flight has been delayed an estimated two hours. we apologize for the inconvenience and thank you for your patience.”

hinata curses under his breath, already on his way to pulling up the black jackals’s group chat to tell them. he pulls his cap off, running a hand through his hair with a long sigh. his phone begins to buzz with texts, no doubt from his coach telling him to keep them updated. 

he rests his forearms on his knees, slumping forward and skimming through the messages. then, he feels a cautious tap on his shoulder and a soft voice asks, “excuse me, do you have a charger i could use?”

when he looks up, hinata thinks the greater powers that be answered a different prayer of his. because holy shit he has never seen anyone as beautiful as you. you’re in a comfy-looking pullover and sweatpants and hinata only realizes he’s just been staring silently for a few seconds when your expression turns apologetic. “i’m sorry to bother you, i’ll ask someone else!”

“no, no, i’m sorry,” he says, words tumbling out of his mouth. he scrambles to unzip his backpack, rummaging through until he triumphantly pulls out his charger. he hands it to you and you thank him. before you can leave, he blurts out, “i’m hinata.”

“oh!” you stick your hand out and tell him your name with a small smile and when you do, hinata knows that he’s gone. 

miya atsumu ✶ brother’s best friend

osamu’s not sure how atsumu managed to weasel his way into his plans. it was a bit of a blur, atsumu practically crashing through the door of onigiri miya as osamu closed up shop to go get drinks with you, begging to be included. he supposes to reason was pity and atsumu’s pleading look as well as the fact that you work far away that had him agreeing to his brother tagging along. 

it was in your last year of high school that osamu figured out his brother had a big, fat crush on you. honestly, it should have been more obvious, especially with the way atsumu flaunted himself and often paraded around the house shirtless when he knew you were coming over. it bothered him at first, thinking bitterly that ‘tsumu couldn’t let him just have one thing to himself? but over time, the annoyance faded as he saw atsumu prove that this wasn’t just a flight-of-fancy, and osamu has already made peace with the very real possibility that you could be his in-law someday. that is, is atsumu could even tell you in the first place.

it’s a little disturbing, osamu thinks, watching the way atsumu flirts with you and wondering if he too makes the same googly-eyes at someone he’s crushing on or if that’s the way he sounds. you giggle when atsumu tries to take a sip of your margarita, telling him, “order your own then, ‘tsumu!”

“nah, yours tastes way better.”

“can’t take this scrub anywhere,” osamu says, earning a laugh from you and a glare from his twin.

you pat atsumu’s shoulder and osamu can’t believe you don’t feel how atsumu melts into your touch. “i’m actually glad both of you are here,” you say, “because i wanted to tell you guys that i’m moving back to tokyo! my boss promoted me so i’m back at main headquarters! isn’t that great?”

“that’s awesome,” osamu says, speaking for both himself and atsumu, who looks like he just won the lottery. 

bokuto koutarou ✶ opposites attract

whenever akaashi introduces you and bokuto as a couple to new people, he always gets pulled over to the side and asked in a whisper, “how did those two get together? he’s so… and they’re less…” 

akaashi can’t say that he wasn’t surprised when you and bokuto started dating back in high school, given that they two of you were on very different trajectories. obviously, bokuto was the captain of fukurodani’s volleyball team while you were student council president and vice-president of chess club. bokuto’s grade sat at the lower end of the spectrum while you were always within the top five students in your class. bokuto liked loud, screaming parties while you preferred a quiet night with a few friends. 

so when bokuto grabbed him by the shoulders one day and shook him, saying that he needed to tell you how he felt, akaashi was taken off-guarded. he didn’t even know you knew each other beyond having a mutual friend, him. 

maybe back then, akaashi would have agreed with the person asking him but now, he just tells them to observe the two of you. because when akaashi does, everything falls into place. like right now, as he and bokuto sit in the stands, watching your final chess match. if you win, you’ll hold onto your spot as a national champion and go on to compete internationally. 

out of the corner of his eyes, akaashi watches as bokuto sits at the very edge of his seat, chewing on his bottom lip. it’s clearly killing him not to cheer and it’s a testament to both his devotion to you. your hand hovers above the bishop before you switch quickly to the queen and move the piece with confidence, setting it down and announcing, “checkmate.”

the crowds erupts into the cheers and you’ve only barely finished shaking your opponent’s hand when bokuto flies out of his seat and barrels towards you. he sweeps you off your feet, spinning you once and setting you down before planting a big kiss on your cheek. you’re beaming as you’re handing your trophy, and bokuto steps back to let you soak up your spotlight. akaashi can’t help but notice that bokuto is beaming too and clapping the loudest. 

as the crowd starts to disperse, akaashi and bokuto join you again, ready to take you to your planned dinner. before you leave, bokuto says, “i was going to do this later but i can’t hold it in anymore, babe.” and he gets down on one knee with a ring box akaashi is all-too familiar with. 

sakusa kiyoomi ✶ reunited childhood sweethearts 

“try not to look so dour, sweetheart,” sakusa’s mother tells him as she fixes his tie. sakusa wants to grumble some choice words but he knows better than to complain to her. besides, he’s only partially paying attention, eyes darting about the crowd and back towards the venue’s entrance. 

he settles on adjusting his mask with a barely audible sigh and mumbles a quiet thanks as she flits to fuss over his older siblings. he glances again, disappointed as a different group of people waltzes in. he knows his older sister wouldn’t be so cruel as to lie to him that your family will be in attendance but the anxiety is making his antsy.

the two of you were inseparable as children with you being one of his only friends growing up.  you spent you days squirreled away in some nook reading or outside playing volleyball. your mothers always cooed that you two would get together one day, and as he got older and learned what that really meant, sakusa found himself hoping too. but then your parents took you and your siblings abroad, leaving him alone and heartbroken. he cut you off, hoping the distances and time would make your departure hurt less, but it didn’t.

sakusa doesn’t recognize the voice that calls his name but his head snaps towards the doorway. you’re standing in between your older sister and younger brother, waving at him. his heart skips a beat. your social media postings don’t do you enough justice; you’re even more attractive that the pixels he

s spent hours staring at. 

you still have that ever-present smile on your face and you quickly break-off from your family to bound over to him. without even thinking, his arms close around you as you embrace him tightly. you feel so familiar and he doesn’t want to let you go as you part. evidently, you don’t either as you keep him close still, only leaning away to look at him. “you’re so tall,” you laugh, more shyly you add, “and very handsome.”

this time, sakusa thinks his heart stops. 

#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #msby x reader #black jackals x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines

[endelineinwonderland]

Let The Light In: Part 7

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Words: 2.7K

Pairing: Paige Bueckers/Media Manager! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff (?!), Friends to enemies to lovers, reader is actually so incredibly in the wrong, slow burn (but we're about to be on fire).

A/N: A few hours later than planned but still, as promised! Also, time jump???!!! Lmk if we hate and if it should never be done again.

2/5/24

“Leo, I’ve told you 100 times I’m not comfortable doing shoots with Paige anymore. I really need to be taken off the schedule for tomorrow,” you insist, frustration tinging your voice. This is not the first time the two of you have had this particular conversation and you doubt it will be the last.

The morning after your talk with Paige you’d gone to Leo and told him everything. Over the course of your time at UConn Leo really had become like a second dad to you, but this was the first time you really had bothered him with your personal life. 

Luckily for you, he’d been very understanding and even took you and Charlie out to breakfast. You, because he wasn’t quite sure how to handle a sobbing 20-year-old and he figured throwing free food at the problem would be relatively pacifying, and Charlie because he figured she deserved a thank you for having dealt with a sobbing 20-year-old all night (and for saving him from the unfortunate task).  

The man turns to you with a heavy sigh, his eyes weary. “I’ve tried, for three months now I’ve kept you from being assigned to her, but this time I need the best of the best, and that’s you, kid. I’m sorry.”

The relationship between you and Paige had been hastily sewn back together over the past few months, a single, weak thread intertwining the two of you again. And things have, admittedly, been rougher than you’d like. 

The best conversation the two of you had shared took place over the course of a two-hour-long phone call where you let her know that you’d removed yourself from any future shoots with her. She immediately argued that you hadn’t needed to do that. You disagreed, then she disagreed with that, the process repeating again, and again, and again until the two of you realized that the time on the clock was now well past midnight and it was in both of your best interests to head off to bed.  

She came up to you after games, just like old times, greeting you in a quick hug and stealing your camera off your neck to flip through a couple of the photos before nodding in approval and wandering off again.

After finals you’d run into the team on a night out and joined them. Paige had walked you home, each of you drunk off your asses and using it as an excuse to cling to each other like ivy to an old brick wall. It had started snowing so you’d offered to let her stay the night, she’d said no.  

The holidays stood out only for their flurry of awkward ‘Merry Christmas’ and ‘Happy New Year’ texts.

Everything else, however, had been remarkably unremarkable; seeming so insignificant that even when you were spending hours over analyzing each interaction the two of you have had, remembering these felt like a waste of time. 

But now, standing in Leo’s office, for the first time in months, even with the lack of real communication, you felt that fragile thread between Paige and you threatening to snap.

“Leo, please,” you said, your voice softer now, almost pleading. “I don’t want to mess things up with Paige again. We’re barely holding on as it is.”

Leo looked at you with a mixture of sympathy and frustration. “I get it, but you’re both professionals. You can do this. It’s one shoot. Just one. After that, we can reevaluate.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. “Fine,” you said finally, the word feeling like a lead weight on your tongue. “But if it becomes too much, I’m out.”

Leo nods, relieved. “I understand. Just give it your best shot.”

The next day, you arrive at the shoot early, the familiar buzz of the studio doing very little to calm your nerves. You busy yourself with setting up your equipment, trying to focus on the technical aspects to keep your mind off the impending interaction with Paige, or rather, the interaction in the setting the two of you had been trying your hardest to avoid.

When she finally walks in, your breath catches in your throat.  She looks as beautiful as ever, you had desperately missed being near her, the occasional run-ins the two of you had doing very little to stifle your aching need for the blonde. 

The shoot begins, the atmosphere almost painfully tense but still professional enough that Leo was satisfied. You direct her with a calm, steady voice, doing your best to maintain the distance she seems to need. 

Paige follows your directions flawlessly, her movements graceful and precise. It is almost like old times, except for the invisible barrier she's put up between you.

During a break, Paige approaches you, her expression tentative. “How’s it going?” she asked softly, her eyes searching yours.

You shrug, trying to keep your tone light. “I mean, it's photography and it's you. Hard not to love it.” Admittedly, the last bit was a lie, having to capture her like this again was nerve wracking to say the least.

Sure, the picture of her on the court is what had gotten the two of you here. But in your mind, these shoots marked the beginning of the end, where you had started getting selfish with your art, where you had been given to much control and in turn, abused it.

She nods, biting her lip. “I appreciate you doing this. I know I’m kinda ruining your thing for you right now which I really didn’t want to do.”

You look at her, the sincerity in her eyes tugging at your heart. “I’m trying P.” 

She looks around briefly, confirming that no one is watching before swooping down to briefly press her lips against your cheek. “I know you are.” She whispers before Leo calls everyone back to set. 

By the end of the night, almost everyone had left, leaving you and Paige, who had apparently decided to stay with you a while longer instead of returning to her dorm, to pack up alone. This would have been fine if it wasn’t so eerily reminiscent of all the other times you two had worked together. Everything was just still so painfully raw, even nostalgia hurt.

As you tried desperately to busy yourself, ignoring the blondes lingering stare, Paige finally broke the silence. “Do you remember our first shoot together?” she asked softly.

You paused, a small smile tugging at your lips, there were a only a few moments the two of you have shared that didn't immediately make you tear up for one reason or another when you recall them, this was one of them.

“Yeah, I do. You were so nervous, kept fiddling with your necklace, I had to photoshop like half of those damn pictures so you weren’t grabbing at it in all of them.”

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “I was terrified. But you made it easier. You always did.”

“It only ever felt easy when it was with you." You looked at her, the memories flooding back.

—-

The studio was buzzing with activity. Assistants scurried around, adjusting lights, setting up equipment, and preparing the backdrop. You were standing near the camera, checking the settings one last time.  For you, the energy in the air was nothing short of electric, this was your game day, this was the thing you lived for. 

Paige walked in, her eyes wide and filled with dread. She always liked the end result of getting her picture taken but the process was tedious and dealing with photographers could be just downright unpleasant. 

She was clad in her home jersey, the navy blue 5 contrasting sharply against the stark white. She clutched the necklace around her neck, a small silver cross pendant that she would continue to fiddle with incessantly the whole day. 

You looked up and saw her, your heart skipping a beat. You'd taken pictures of her before, of course, the night at the gym, a few games, and for a few homework assignments that’s she’d, thankfully, agreed to help with, but this was something else entirely, a shoot. A shoot for Leo.

"Hey, Paige," you called out, offering her a reassuring smile. "Ready?” 

She walked over. "Yeah," she replied, her voice missing its usual enthusiasm. 

You positioned her in front of the camera, giving her small tips on how to stand, where to look, and how to relax her shoulders. She followed your instructions diligently, though you could still see the tension in her posture.

"Remember to breathe," you said gently. "And try to think of something that makes you happy. It'll show in your eyes."

Paige closed her eyes for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. When she opened them again, there was a spark of confidence that hadn't been there before. She smiled, and you could see the transformation happening right before your eyes. 

You didn’t know at the time but all she had done was think about the night she met you.

"That's it," you encouraged, your own excitement growing with hers. "Just like that."

As the shoot progressed, Paige began to relax more, her movements becoming more fluid and natural.

You clicked the shutter repeatedly, the two of you inventing a silent language; thumbs up: all done with this look, change your pose, thumbs down: this isn’t working, give me a second to do change things on my end, palm out: stay still, etc, etc. 

By the end of the day, you had captured a series of stunning photographs, each one better than the last as she had gotten more and more used to being in front of your camera. 

As you packed up your equipment, Paige had approached you, her eyes shining with renewed sense of excitement. "Need a ride?” 

"Oh no it’s okay, thank you so much though” you replied, turning to the girl. “I’m just gonna walk.” 

She smiled, her fingers once again playing with her necklace. "No come on, it’s late, I’m driving you.” 

You had hesitated despite already knowing your answer, “only if you’re sure," you said, unable to hide your relief.

The two of you left the studio together, stepping into the crisp evening air. The city was quiet, the hustle and bustle of the day giving way to a serene calm. Paige led you to her car, popping the trunk and helping you load all of your stuff safely in the back. 

Once inside, you both settled into a comfortable silence, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional rustle as Paige adjusted her grip on the steering wheel. You glanced at her, noticing the way the streetlights cast a soft glow on her face.

"Wanna get ice cream?” Paige said suddenly, breaking the silence. “There’s this cute little place nearby and I’m starving, plus there’s no way the dining hall is still serving dinner.” She’d been so nervous that her words had come out in one breath. It would have been more than just bordering on incoherent if you hadn’t been giving her every single ounce of your attention already, clinging to every word.

You looked at her, surprised by the sudden change in plans but also grateful for the suggestion. You were starving. “Let’s do it.”

Paige grinned, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she turned the car around and headed towards the ice cream parlor. The streets were quiet, the cool evening air settling over you two.

When you arrived, the bell above the door had chimed softly as Paige opened the door for you. The smell of freshly made waffle cones and the sound of soft music filled the air.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered that the song playing was the one on an old Etta James record. The same one your grandmother had said was playing at the jazz club her and your grandfather had gone to on their first date. But, you pay in no mind, all of your conscious thoughts consumed by the blonde in front of you.

The parlor was cozy, with a few small tables and a counter displaying a rainbow of ice cream flavors. Paige immediately made her way to the counter, her eyes wide with delight as she scanned the options.

“What are you getting?” she asked, turning to you. 

You took a moment to consider, then decided on your usual favorite. “I do this weird thing, I get two kiddie scoops, one cherry and one strawberry and mix them. When I was a kid, my mom used to get strawberry and I used to get cherry and she’d always let me have her leftovers so I mixed them together one day and now I can’t eat ice cream any other way.” You said, smiling. 

Despite the fact that you had known Paige for a month, the expression on her face when you told her this was one that could only be described as love struck. There was a gentle warmth in her eyes that caused your heartbeat to quicken and your breath to catch in your throat. It was as if the entire world had melted away and all that remained was the two of you, standing there in that moment, caught up in each other's unspoken affection.

“Here, how ‘bout I get strawberry, and we can do that. You’ve got me curious now” she said. 

“Deal. You won’t regret it.” You’d chuckled, reaching your hand out to hers for her to shake, you really had just wanted an excuse to touch her.

You both placed your orders, and the worker, recognizing Paige, had scooped more than generous portions of ice cream into the two cups.

Paige handed you your cherry scoop, and you both sat down at a small table near the window. Paige took a bite of her strawberry scoop, then mixed a bit of it with your cherry. She paused, the spoon still dangling out of her mouth, and her eyes lit up. “Shit this is really good.” 

A smile quickly spread across you face. “Told ya.”

For a moment, you both sat in comfortable silence. Each of you dipping into each others cups, giggling when one of your spoons got caught on the others, inevitably making the dessert fall back into the bowl it had just been scooped from. The world outside the window seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this cozy little bubble.

When Paige had finished hers and the remainder of yours after you’d pushed your leftovers at her, the two of you returned to the car. 

The drive home wasn’t long but the combination of your fatigue from the long day and the gentle rocking of her car had made you fall asleep without even realizing what was happening. 

Pulled up at your dorm, she gently shook your shoulder, “hey, we’re here.” 

You blinked awake, disoriented for a moment, then realized where you were. 

“Oh, sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Paige smiled, her expression tender. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve had a long day.”

You gathered your things and hesitated for a moment, not wanting the evening to end. 

“Thanks for the ice cream, Paige. And for everything else.”

“Anytime,” she replied, her voice sincere. “Get some rest, okay?”

You nodded, stepping out of the car. “You too. Goodnight, Paige.”

“Goodnight,” she said, watching you walk no more than 10 steps away from the car before she was rolling down her car window to talk to you again, “hey, same time next week?” 

You’d turned back to her, confused. “What?” 

“Ice cream, you and me, next Thursday. Come on it’ll be like, our thing.” 

A warmth spread through you at the suggestion, and you found yourself smiling back at her. “Yeah, I’d like that. Ice cream Thursday.”

“Awesome,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s a date then. Goodnight for real this time.”

“Night,” you said, waving as she drove away, her taillights disappearing into the night.

—-

“Hey do you need a ride home, for old times sake?” Paige grabs your attention again as you let the memory fade from into the background.

She's rocking back and forth on her heels as you finish packing up; obviously trying to gauge whether or not she’s overstepping.

You grab the rest of your bags, replying, “that’d be great, thank you" before getting an idea, "hey you know, it’s Thursday, we’ve missed dinner, and if you’re free, I think our ice cream place is still open.” 

Paige’s eyes light up, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You're on."

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige buckets #paige bueckers fic #wcbb #wcbb x reader #wlw #uconn huskies #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers headcannons #fanfic #angst #wbb #paige bueckers angst

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part 15

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader Summary: You get sick and then get hit with your period at the same time. Word Count: 15k (most reasonable word count this story has had in months 🤣) Warnings: Sickness; menstruation; Miguel just wants to look after you!!; Short A/N: I'm ready to read the comments on this one, you guys better not disappoint Previous Part Masterlist Music Inspo (You can find the official Spotify playlist for the fanfic here) "Corazón de Poeta" - Jeanette "Sparks" - Coldplay, Acoustic Guitar Revival (guitar version)

Enjoy and thank you for reading! ❤️

Part 15

The moment you wake up, you feel it. The worst thing to wake up to.

A sore throat.

You sit up, blinking a few times as you adjust to the lighting. The sound of rain reaches your ears as it hits the penthouse’s windows. Glancing around, Miguel is nowhere in sight, though the pillow he used last night is still on the floor near you.

You swallow saliva, finding it hard to do so. Yep, you’re definitely sick. You sigh and push the blanket off you, only then realizing it’s been covering you.

Memories of last night come to mind. The power went out just as Miguel and you were going to have dinner, which led to lit candles and flashlights, and music from cassettes while lightning and thunder filled the sky. You eventually moved to the living room, where you continued to listen to music. You showed Miguel new ideas for his place and talked before you fell asleep next to him. And did you offer Miguel your pinky finger?

Staring at the rain, you remember you did and not only that, Miguel accepted it as you gaze into his eyes before you drifted off, too tired to bother with a blanket, which means Miguel covered you at some point after you fell asleep.

For a few seconds, you think about how you’ve slept on Miguel’s living room floor twice now. With him, Miguel. You never imagined such thing but the thought brings a soft smile to your face despite the ache in your throat.

You look around again, wondering where Miguel is before you stand up, your body feeling off, fatigued.

You still have it in you to fold the blanket before you realize you need to wash it considering you’re sick now. You sigh quietly in disbelief. For the first time in a few years, you’re sick. Your thoughts are interrupted by Miguel’s footsteps coming down the stairs, which makes you realize it must be sometime after 6am.

“Hey, good morning,” Miguel says, stepping into the living room, hair damp from his morning shower. Traces of Miguel’s hygiene products, scents you’re all too familiar with these days, immediately reach your nose when he approaches you, already in his suit. It doesn’t take long for Miguel to sense that something is off. “Are you alright?” Miguel asks, immediately taking in your appearance now that you’re awake.

You nod but then shake your head. “My throat hurts. It feels sore,” you reply, wincing slightly as even talking seems to make the ache worse.

Miguel’s eyes soften as he hears your voice for the first time today, taking notice of the way you wince and how your voice sounds different.

“Mierda [shit],” Miguel says gently, taking several steps closer to you. “Sore throat. Do you have a fever?” he asks.

You lift your hand to your face, unable to tell right now. Are you warm because you just woke up, or are you warm because you have a fever? You wonder to yourself, hand on your cheek, trying to figure it out when you suddenly feel fingers pressed to your forehead. They feel cool against your skin, though not cold.

You blink, realizing.

“Tienes fiebre [you have a fever],” Miguel says, his tone being one of concern while the back of his fingers are still pressed softly on your forehead. His fingers are bare despite the fact that his suit is already activated, making the contact skin to skin. “Your face is burning.” Miguel lowers his hand at last, not even thinking about what he just did, concern for you being the only thing present in his mind.

“You shouldn’t be this close to me then,” you say, stepping back. “I might get you sick.”

“Nonsense,” Miguel replies. “I won’t get sick, don’t worry.” Miguel steps forward again until he’s the same distance he was just seconds ago. “I’ll have one of the doctors at HQ check you.”

“That’s not… necessary, but thank you. I”ll be okay,” you reply, touched by Miguel’s offer and his concern nonetheless.

Your response instantly makes Miguel frown. What do you mean you’ll be okay with a sore throat and fever?

“You’re sick,” he says gently, despite his frown.

Holding on to the blanket, you look away from Miguel. You know you’re sick, you can feel the ache in your throat and how your body feels off, but a part of you doesn’t want to make a big deal out of this. A part of you simply wants to take some over the counter medicine and go on about the day, pushing through your symptoms. It’s what you did in the past the few times you were sick before joining the Spider Society, and after Peter’s death. You learned to take care of yourself since then and now, you’re no longer used to the concern or attention from someone.

“Do you want to go to your universe, or do you want to go HQ?” Miguel offers. “One of the doctors can check you, give you medicine.”

Your gaze meets Miguel’s at last. He’s staring at you, intently, waiting for a response. You nod at last. “HQ. Let me put my suit and get ready.”

“No suit,” Miguel says. “It’s raining and you’re sick. I’m driving us there, no swinging to HQ today. So just… put some regular clothes on, okay?” he adds softly. “Go ahead and get ready, I’ll let my team know we’re going.”

“Alright… thank you,” you say, agreeing with Miguel. You have a feeling that if you were to decline both of his options, he’d probably bring a doctor here to the penthouse to get you checked.

You get ready and change into regular clothes before you meet Miguel downstairs. He’s now wearing regular clothes, too, his suit disengaged to blend in, though that’s not his priority. His priority is to get you treated by a doctor and make you feel better.

The two of you leave the penthouse and head down to the car garage. He unlocks the vehicle and is quick to open and hold the door for you before he gets in the driver’s side. Despite feeling sick, you’re still somewhat aware of how strange it is to watch Miguel drive. It’s like you’ve unlocked another side of him.

The drive to HQ is a short one with Miguel knowing shortcuts around the city. You’re soon walking into the building under an umbrella that Miguel holds to shield you from the rain, walking near you as if he’s your bodyguard.

You head straight to the infirmary sector where a doctor is already waiting for you. Thankfully, the paperwork is short and soon, you’re in a room ready to get checked.

Miguel watches the process, standing by the door as the doctor does basic procedures such as getting your throat swapped and blood work.

“Lab results should take a few minutes. I’ll be back then,” the doctor says before they step out of the room.

You turn to Miguel as he walks over to you, a soft look on his face. He’s already making plans.

“Don’t,” you tell him softly.

Miguel raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me… You’re going home, right?”

You raise an eyebrow.

“You’re not working today, so you’re going home, yes?”

“You don’t want me here?” you ask softly.

Miguel steps closer, placing a hand on the patient’s bed, a few inches from your body, and looks down at you, his gaze gentle. “I’m not telling you what to do, but you need to rest properly on a bed where you’ll be comfortable, cozy. Not here at HQ.”

You nod. “I know, I was just… I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve been sick,” you admit, feeling fatigue. You turn away and yawn, covering your mouth.

Miguel watches you, hating that you feel unwell. He has little time to think about what you’ve said, about it being a while since you’ve been sick, but a quick thought comes to mind. Have you been sick before joining the Spider Society? The door to the room opens, interrupting his thoughts. Miguel turns back to look, removing his hand from the patient’s bed and stepping back to give you and the doctor some space.

“Blood work looks good and the throat swap is negative. It seems to be a simple cold, but I’ll give you medicine. Would you like a shot as well?”

You nod. “Yes, please.”

“I’ll take care of that, let me just write down the prescriptions I’m giving you - record keeping,” she explains looking up at you and then at Miguel for a second before turning back to their paperwork. They scribble quickly, thinking it’s not strange to see the owner of the building, the boss, with you. Not anymore.

They recall when he was here a year ago, injured. You stayed by his side the whole time and it had been briefly discussed by the other infirmary staff that you had taken care of Mr. O’Hara at his home. Clearly, the two of you are close friends, or something like that.

Now, Mr. O’Hara is here with you for less serious reasons, a cold, to show up for you like you did for him.

They finish up and excuse themselves.

“While you get the shot, I’ll be stepping out. I need to take care of something,” Miguel tells you, both to give you privacy since the shot will likely go on your upper buttock, and also because he needs to talk to Jess about today, maybe even about tomorrow.

“Alright, everything okay?” you ask him.

“Yes, don’t worry. I just need to talk to Jess about something,” Miguel reassures you.

You give him a nod, not probing for more information just as the doctor returns. Miguel gives you a small smile, that being his cue to exit the room. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, okay?” he says softly.

“I’ll be out shortly,” you reply giving him a small, reassuring smile.

With that, Miguel steps out of the room to give you privacy. He calls Jess through his gizmo, standing outside the infirmary room. A second later, she answers.

“Miguel.”

“Jess,” Miguel says. “Morning. It’s very sudden, but I want to ask if it’s possible for you to take care of things around here today?”

“I can. Is everything alright?” Jess asks, watching as Miguel turns away.

“Y/N is sick. It’s only a cold, according to the doctors here at the infirmary, but she has a fever…”

“It’s always good for someone to be around when dealing with a fever. It may change,” Jess tells him, knowing already that Miguel doesn’t want to leave you alone.

“Yes,” Miguel replies, turning back to face her. “I’m going to look after her, make sure it goes down.”

“Let me know if you guys need anything. I’d be more than happy to help.”

“Thank you, Jess,” Miguel responds. “I’ll keep that in mind. And I’ll tell Y/N about it. Thank you for today.”

“If you need to, take off tomorrow, too. It might just be a cold, but it can take a toll on the body for days.”

Miguel gives her a nod, relieved that Jess is making such offer so he can look after you. He had already planned for that, if he was honest. “Thank you. I appreciate it, Jess. I hope it doesn’t get worse, but we’ll see. I’ll keep you updated if I do take off tomorrow just to give you a heads up.”

“No need. I’ll know. Just look after her, alright? And tell her I hope she feels better soon. I’ll be sending her a message in a bit but either way.”

“I will,” Miguel replies softly. “I’ll tell her. Thank you again. Do let me know if I’m needed for backup.”

“Alright, take care.”

“You, too,” Miguel says before he ends the call. He gazes down the hallway leading to the infirmary lobby, lowering his arm to the side. Thankfully the floor is empty save for the medical staff, you, and him. No serious injury or someone on the verge of death. He sighs deeply as he remembers the few days he spent on this floor, injured, before he was allowed to go home. It feels like a lifetime since then.

He decides to wait a bit more to give the doctor and you time, so he stands there, just looking around. It’s so silent. He wonders if this is what it was for you, spending so many hours next to him with no one around to talk with. He thinks about you, waiting in the lonely lobby while his injuries were treated that rainy night.

You stuck by his side, like glue. You could’ve easily gone home at some point to rest, asked someone else to take a shift, but no. You stayed by his side every day. Miguel has a suspicion you would’ve stuck by him every second if you had it your way. He believes that especially when he remembers you offering to sleep on his bedroom floor to look after him that first night.

Miguel shakes his head now, still in disbelief. He would never allow such thing. He would’ve shared the bed with you before letting your body lay on the ground while he rested on the mattress. Of course, he didn’t make that offer because it was too personal for either of you back then, but now…

Miguel’s thoughts are interrupted when he hears the door open. He turns and finds the doctor wishing you a speedy recovery before she exits.

“I’ve given Miss Y/N medications and the shot, she’ll be feeling better soon but in any case that she doesn’t, bring her back in and we can give her other treatments,” she tells him. “Also, she’ll need to rest.”

“I understand, I’ll make sure she does. Thank you,” Miguel responds with a nod.

“You guys take care.”

Miguel nods again before he knocks on the door, entering when he hears your voice. He finds you halfway across the room, heading for the door already. You’re carrying a prescription bag just given to you by the doctor.

“You okay?” he asks softly, holding the door open for you as you keep walking.

“Yeah, I got the shot. It’s kind of hurting a bit,” you admit, feeling it sting as you walk. “But hopefully that means I’ll feel better shortly. Along with the medicine.”

“I hope so,” Miguel says genuinely as you walk out, falling in step with you. The two of you walk down the hallway, side by side, towards the lobby. “We can go home now. I’ll cook you some breakfast, something warm to ease the ache in your throat. And you’ll need to rest so you can get better, let the medicine do its job - let your body recover.”

“Rest? I don’t think I need to.”

“Doctor’s orders,” Miguel replies gazing at you, a hint of a smile on his face, wondering if you’ll be stubborn about this.

“She told me the same thing,” you say with a sigh as you both enter the lobby and head for the elevators.

“You’re not going to ignore doctor’s orders, right?” he asks.

“I guess not… What are you cooking?” you ask softly.

Miguel smirks softly to himself as he presses the button, the doors opening in seconds. He gestures for you to enter before he steps in.

“Don’t worry about it. You just rest and get better.”

The doors close and the lobby is once again empty, or so it seems. A nurse and the doctor turn to look at each other after listening to the little snippet of conversation, the interaction between the boss and you catching their attention. They turn to the elevator again, not recognizing the man that just walked by. He’s a different man from the one they met many years ago, one that was distant and stoic.

“To love and be loved, is to be changed,” the doctor mutters before turning to look at a medical chart, smiling to themselves.

-♥︎-

Miguel and you leave HQ, and drive home. You said you didn’t need to rest but the entire drive back to the penthouse suggested otherwise to Miguel. He glanced at you a few times while driving, finding your sleepy gaze each time as you stared out the window.

Upon arriving home, he ushers you upstairs to change into more comfortable clothing, which you obey without question before heading back downstairs, feeling tired.

You find Miguel moving around the kitchen. Pans are already on the stove. He’s changed into sweatpants and a dark t-shirt now that you’re both home, ready to look after you for the day, tomorrow, or however long it takes for you to be back to your healthy self.

You sit down on the counter and grab the medicine bag, taking everything out so you can read the directions and side effects, seeing that you’ll need to eat before taking some of them.

“Breakfast will be ready in just a few minutes, okay? Do you want coffee?” Miguel asks softly, walking up to the counter and standing across from you now.

“I can make-”

“Sit tight,” he says firmly but gently. “I’ll make it.”

“It…” you finish but Miguel has already turned around. A few seconds later, he starts on the coffee. He moves quickly around the kitchen, his moves careful yet determined.

Just as he’s placed two cups on the counter, he turns to the stove and checks on the food.

You lean back and close your eyes, feeling drowsy. You wrap your arms around yourself, glad you’re in cozy pajamas and wearing one of your favorite sweatshirts, the one Miguel gifted you for Christmas. You could actually go to sleep now without eating but knowing Miguel, he’ll probably refuse to let you sleep on an empty stomach and besides, you don’t want to decline his kind gesture when he’s already halfway done. So, you sit back and wait, listening to Miguel’s movement with your eyes closed. It brings you comfort and a sense of home, something not unusual to you in Miguel's presence.

“Café [coffee],” Miguel says gently a few minutes later, careful not to startle you.

Upon opening your eyes, you find Miguel in front of you. You glance down and find a mug of fresh coffee on the counter, steam coming from it. You can already imagine how great the coffee will feel against your throat, soothing the ache.

“Do you mind?” he asks, gesturing to the medicine bottles. He picks them up and reads the labels once you gesture that you don’t. He nods to himself, noticing that they’ll likely make you feel drowsy and dizzy on top of the fact that two of them need to be taken with food. He also memorizes how many times a day you’ll need certain medicines and the hours between to make sure you don’t miss them.

As he reads, you reach for the mug and softly blow on it to cool it off before grabbing the spoon and stirring it. You yawn just as Miguel places the medicine back on the counter, pretty much all the directions locked into his head. He’s going to make sure that you’re taking the medicines the way they need to be taken, his priority is for you to feel better soon.

“Let me get you breakfast,” he says turning away and walking to the stove. He fixes your plate first, doing it with affection and hope that you’ll find it suitable despite your sickness. He grabs the appropriate utensil before walking over to you, plate in hand, and gently places it in front of you, his gaze soft. “Please eat, it’ll help you,” Miguel says as he puts the utensil on the side of your plate.

With a sleepy smile, you nod. “I am, thank you, Miguel,” you say softly, your tone tired. You pick up the utensil, eating because he’s asked you to. You try to cool off the food a bit before taking a bite. Of course, your throat hurts even to eat but it doesn’t take away from Miguel’s amazing cooking, and you feel like it even awakens your appetite. “So good, as always,” you comment before taking another bite.

Miguel smiles, watching you eat and enjoy the food despite being sick. His chest flutters at the sight of your sleepy smile, unable to not find it endearing.

“Are you not eating?” you ask softly, an eyebrow raised.

Miguel blinks, distracted. He nods. “Si [yes], yes, of course. I was just… Making sure your breakfast is okay.” He turns away to fix himself a plate before joining your side. He glances at you every few seconds, wanting to make sure that you’re alright and not in need of something, but you eat silently and peacefully, at least as much as you can while being sick.

You both finish eating and continue to drink your coffees. The rain has not let up since yesterday and so, you both hear the soft pit pat on the penthouse’s windows, filling the silence in a very cozy way. A few minutes later, Miguel watches as you place your empty mug down. He downs the last bit of his and stands up, picking up both mugs to take to the sink.

You watch as he retrieves a glass and fills it with water before he approaches you. He places it on the counter gently and then places the medicines in front of you. “For your medicine. Then, rest.”

You thank him for the water and take your medicine, hoping the ache in your throat will disappear soon. “Hopefully I feel better soon.”

“You’ll feel better soon,” Miguel says, reassuringly. “You just need some rest. Why don’t you go to bed?”

You shake your head. “I’m not sleepy,” you say even though your eyes say another story.

Miguel tilts his head to the side. “Really?”

You nod but end up yawning at the same time, causing Miguel to raise an eyebrow. You give him a sheepish look. “Okay, maybe I am…” you glance at the medicine bottles, thinking about laying down and Miguel heading back to HQ. “Be careful, okay?”

Miguel blinks in confusion. “Be careful? Of what?”

“If you go out on missions. Just - be careful, okay? If you need backup, call for backup. Please.”

He shakes his head, brows knitted as he stares directly at you. He waits until you look back at him to respond. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not…?” you reply, looking up at him, now confused.

“Nowhere. I’m staying here. At the penthouse. With you…”

“Oh.” You look down at the glass with water and take another sip. “I thought…” you trail off, not finishing your sentence. You thought Miguel would head back to HQ after breakfast to work, especially since it’s a work day. You look up at him again, finding a gentle and reassuring look on his face.

“No, I’m staying here… I’m looking after you. I’m not leaving you alone,” Miguel responds softly.

Holding his gaze, you nod, for some reason feeling relieved you won’t be alone, yet you don't want to keep Miguel away from work. “Thank you… Are you sure though? I’ll probably just sleep, so you probably don’t want to waste-” you start, wanting to let Miguel know he doesn’t have to stay at the penthouse all day, that he can go on about his day.

“Por favor [please],” Miguel says, lowering himself on the counter, resting his arms on it to be eye level with you. “Don’t say waste. You’re starting to sound like the old me,” he says gently, internally feeling frustration that you’re thinking like that, as if you don’t matter to him. “The one that didn’t want you to spend an entire day in the infirmary room with me a year ago.”

“That was different, though, you were injured. Seriously injured… Close to death. I’m just sick with a common cold.”

“Thankfully,” Miguel states. “It’s just a common cold and nothing more serious, but that doesn’t make it less important. It doesn’t mean I’m going to leave you all alone here to fend for yourself. I wish to do this, okay?” Miguel pauses and clears his throat quietly. “You’re my best friend.” Miguel's gaze is unwavering, leaving no room for questioning nor arguing with him. He's going to stay home and look after you today, tomorrow, or however long, until you're well. Period. “Déjate cuidar [let yourself be taken care of],” he adds gently.

You hum softly. “I wanted to say that to you a year ago.”

Miguel grins, eyes softening. He knows a year ago your friendship was still unofficial, neither of you had addressed it, so you held on to many of your thoughts, keeping them to yourself with the purpose of not pushing his boundaries. It’s a year later and things are different, at last. Progress has been made and Miguel can say what you are to him without the fear of what it means. He can now say those words you weren’t able to say to him a year ago. “Then, you understand… I ask the same of you now. Let me look after you. Please. It’s what friends do.”

Hearing Miguel’s soft tone and words, not missing the fact that he’s used the same words you said to him a year ago, you nod after several seconds of silence. “I understand,” you say, nodding. You know that feeling too well, of wanting to take care of someone. It was exactly how you felt with him when he was hurt. You just wanted to look after him and make him feel better as best as you could. You wanted him to be back to full health because you hated seeing him hurting and unwell. “Okay,” you add softly, accepting.

“Good,” Miguel replies, happy and relieved you’re not being stubborn about him staying at the penthouse to look after you. “I’ll stay here, if you need anything - anything at all - please let me know, okay?”

“I will, thank you, Miguel.”

“Always,” Miguel says, a hint of a smile on his face.

You give him a smile and nod, really accepting the fact that Miguel is going to look after you today. You understand where he’s coming from but a part of you feels off. It’s not because of Miguel, of course, but rather because it’s been a long time since someone has looked after you when you get sick. You’ve grown used to taking care of yourself ever since Peter died. Now, Miguel wishes to do so, and a part of you is trying to remember what that feels like - trying to accept that it’s something normal for you to experience, to receive, as well. You sigh softly as you feel drowsiness, thinking it’ll take you a moment to get used to receiving this kind of care after so long. You yawn again, covering your mouth. You already felt fatigued after the doctor’s appointment, and now the food and medicines seem to be taking effect, adding to it. “I’ll go upstairs and rest a bit,” you tell Miguel, your voice showing signs of sleepiness.

“You need all the rest you can get,” Miguel says nodding. “I’ll be here, go on and take a nap.”

You finally stand up and give him a nod, thanking him for breakfast before you head upstairs to your room. You quickly find yourself in bed, under the sheets. Snuggling into the pillows and covers, you can definitely feel the medicines kicking in.

Your eyes flutter and you feel yourself slowly falling into a slumber when you hear footsteps - Miguel’s footsteps. You raise your head to see just as he walks in.

“Shh, rest. Duerme [sleep],” he says softly, carrying a blanket.

You lay back down as he comes to a halt next to the bed, your brain trying to process what he’s up to. He gently throws the blanket over you, tucking it in around your feet and legs. The rest, he carefully pulls up your body, just below your shoulders.

“There,” Miguel says quietly, watching your sleepy face, one he’s memorized by now but still beholds with keenness.

You hum softly, half-asleep and half-awake, his scent reaching your drowsy senses. “It smells like you,” you say sleepily, a soft smile grazing your lips, content and comforted by Miguel’s warm and cozy scent.

Miguel grins softly, gazing down at you. He can’t deny that he’s equally surprised and delighted by the fact that you even recognize his scent on the blanket. “Sometimes I sleep with it, so I guess it makes sense it smells like me,” he shares, his fingers still holding on to the edge of the blanket.

“I like it,” you say before you blindly reach for the blanket, your fingers curling around warmness before you tug it towards your face, wanting the scent closer.

Miguel’s brows raise in surprise when he feels your fingers wrap around his, tugging them, and the blanket, closer to you. “You like it?” he repeats gently, something in his chest stirring as he keeps gazing at you, slowly drifting off.

You nod sleepily. “I love it,” you whisper with a soft sigh, still holding on to Miguel’s fingers and the blanket before you let go, unaware that you were even holding them or of what you’ve admitted in your sleepy state.

Miguel exhales softly when you release his fingers, feeling the loss of touch immediately. Your words echo in his mind. You love his scent. A few seconds later, Miguel notices that you’ve surrendered to sleep, the sound of your even breathing reaches his ears in the quietness of your bedroom. “I’m happy you… love it,” he whispers back even though you’re asleep now. He lets go of the blanket, his knuckles brushing under your chin softly, tenderly, before he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger for about four seconds, the gesture so instinctive - so right - Miguel doesn’t realize nor questions it in the moment.

He lets go and steps back, watching for a few minutes as you sleep, listening to your soft breathing. He tells himself it’s time to step out of the bedroom and let you rest, so he does. He leaves your door halfway open and returns downstairs to the kitchen to clean up after breakfast.

Once he’s done, he works from home, checking on a few things that he can do from the penthouse to help the team but unlike previous years, Miguel doesn’t drown himself in work. He doesn’t feel the need nor want to check everything, to ensure that everyone is doing what they’re supposed to.

His focus is you, everything else is secondary.

He checks on you every thirty minutes to make sure you’re okay and resting well. Each time, he checks you to make sure the fever has gone down, pressing the back of his hand to your face, keeping track of how warm your face feels. He also fixes the blanket around you when he notices it’s shifted in your sleep, wanting you to feel the most comfort possible. Miguel watches your face, his eyes searching for any sign of discomfort in your sleep before he exits the bedroom, his steps deliberately gentle to avoid disturbing you each time he’s in the bedroom.

On the two-hour mark, Miguel is pleased when he touches your face once again and finds a normal warmth, no longer burning hot.

“Normal,” he whispers to himself with a relieved smile.

Despite your fever going down, Miguel continues to check on you throughout the day. He cooks lunch and gently wakes you up at midday so you’ll eat and take your medicine again, making sure you hydrate yourself, too.

After lunch with some food and medicine in your system, you decide to stick around in the living room, not wanting to be in bed all day despite Miguel’s gentle comment about you resting more comfortably on a bed rather than the couch.

You fight off sleep as much as you can but you eventually doze off once again after replying to the spider gang chat, who sent you messages stating they hope you feel better soon, even asking if they can send you something.

Upon seeing you fall asleep again, Miguel brings his blanket downstairs and once again, covers you with it before settling on the couch, across from you, to keep watch.

He continues to work from a tablet, spending some time reading about mission updates and replying to questions from spider members, though he still doesn’t spend much time with work related tasks. He reads for a while, too, but even that doesn’t hold his attention. His eyes find their way to you more than he realizes, as if he finds the sight of you much more intriguing than any word in his book.

At some point, Miguel gets up to make dinner while you sleep and as always, he moves around the kitchen with ease. He’s a man that knows his way around such space, the kind that makes cooking look easy as he gathers everything he needs on one counter from the fridge and pantry. He has two goals in mind with the meal he’s cooking for dinner. One, to give you some comfort and make you feel better.

And two, to please you with his food. For months, he’s found happiness seeing that look you always get of pure delight when you take a bite of the food he makes. It used to be twice a month with the weekend dinners at each other’s place but ever since you moved in, temporarily, Miguel has the opportunity to cook more often for the two of you.

He always looks forward to it, wondering what your thoughts will be when he cooks something he hasn’t before. Either way, whether it’s something new or something he’s cooked before, Miguel always cooks with love.

He peels and dices vegetables, each one with precision. He washes the rice and keeps an eye on it to make sure it doesn’t burn once he pours it on a pan before applying some oil. Despite his concentration with the food, Miguel takes a few seconds to check on you, finding you still passed out on the couch, the TV playing quietly in the background.

Some time later, you wake up. You blink the sleep away and sit up slowly, feeling disoriented for a few seconds before you realize you’re in the living room. You breathe in, only to find your nose stuffy, which immediately dampens your mood. You sigh and look for Miguel, finding his usual seat empty. His tablet is on the spot next to his seat along with the TV’s remote, left alone. Glancing around, you hear subtle noise from the kitchen, giving you an idea of where Miguel is. You look down at yourself, finding his blanket over you once again before you tug it close to your face. It’s so soft and you can smell just a bit of his scent on it, unable to truly smell it due to your stuffy nose. Despite thinking about Miguel’s scent, you don’t remember your confession from earlier.

You stand up from the couch and stretch at last. This has to be the most you’ve slept in a while during the day but you feel rested. You follow the scent of food to the kitchen where you find Miguel stirring a spoon in a medium size pot. He’s still in his sweatpants and t-shirt, gizmo on his wrist. He turns suddenly, as if sensing you.

“You’re awake,” he says softly, a smile immediately forming on his face, happy to see you up. “How do you feel?” Miguel asks walking around the counter to meet you, he pats the chair you always sit on, silently gesturing for you to take a seat.

“Better. I can still feel a light ache in my throat but it’s not as bad as it was this morning. It’s doable,” you reply as you move to the chair, Miguel pulling it out for you.

“Is your nose stuffy?” he asks, with a slightly raised eyebrow, making note of how your voice sounds now.

“And my nose is stuffy, yes,” you reply with a sigh.

“Hopefully dinner will help with the discomfort of your throat. It might help a bit with the stuffiness, too. I have something that’ll help for sure, if you’re open to it - after dinner,” Miguel says with a frown on his face, wishing you hadn’t grown sick.

“I’ll accept anything if I can breath properly again,” you state, now sitting.

“I feel that,” he replies leaning on the counter, eye level. His body is pretty close, seemingly not worried about catching a cold from you. He observes your face, his gaze landing on your chin. He suddenly remembers what happened earlier, realizing he brushed his knuckles against your skin, and how he then held your chin for a few seconds. He clears his throat. “Let me check the food, so you can go ahead and eat. I hope you like it,” he says softly, pushing himself off the counter. He flexes his hand, the same one he caressed you with earlier, having the sensation on his skin still.

“What did you cook?” you ask softly, sniffling.

Miguel smiles a bit at the sound of you sniffling before he thinks of something. Instead of walking back to the stove, he walks to the laundry room. “Hold on, just a sec.” You watch as he disappears into the laundry room, before he steps out several seconds later, carrying a small box. He approaches you, reaching you in no time, and offers it to you, which you realize is a tissue box. “For your nose,” Miguel says. “So you don’t hurt your skin with something else, like a napkin, if you need to blow your nose.”

You accept the box with a soft smile and thank him.

“Always,” Miguel says with a little nod and gentle smile. “Now, let me get you some food. I feel certain it’s going to make you feel good. My mom made it for Gabriel and I when we got sick sometimes. It’s caldito de pollo [chicken soup] with vegetables,” he says. “I made some rice, too.”

You lean back on the chair.

“That sounds really good. I think I’m actually hungry.”

“You think?” Miguel asks, amused as he grabs some bowls.

“Okay, I am hungry,” you say, fixing it. You give him a soft smile. “I think I’m still drowsy from the medicine.”

“That’s to be expected. The dosage on one of them is pretty high. If I remember correctly, it’s the same one you have to do double the dosage for bedtime,” Miguel replies as he recalls the instructions. “But maybe you’re also sleepy from hunger. I noticed you didn’t eat much for lunch. You haven’t had much fluids either.” Remembering that, Miguel stirs the pot before he gets you a glass with water. He takes it to you and of course, you catch the message.

Hydrate.

You oblige and drink, making Miguel satisfied. He turns back around and fixes a plate with food for you.

“So Gabriel and you used to eat this sometimes when you were sick?”

“Yes, we always loved eating this. It gave some relief to our sore throats. And well, we both enjoyed it overall, so it was also a comfort food.”

You nod, thinking about a young Miguel and Gabriel, sick and eating caldito de pollo as children. The image painted in your head brings a smile to your face.

Miguel finishes fixing you a plate and his own, so he brings both to the counter, placing yours in front of you with delicacy. He’s quick to get utensils and napkins along with some warm corn tortillas, and refilling your glass with water before he sits next to you.

“Eat,” he says gazing at you. “It’ll help you recover sooner.”

You nod with a small smile before you begin eating, the warmth of the liquid soothing your throat immediately. It’s like easing an itch. You sigh softly in content before you eat more, the flavors hitting you all at once in the most delightful way possible thanks to the rice and vegetables.

“That feels and tastes amazing,” you mumble as you bring another spoonful to your mouth.

Miguel smiles, feeling pleased with himself. You didn’t eat much during lunch but now, he’s hopeful you’ll eat the serving he gave you and that you’ll feel much more nourished.

“Tortilla?” Miguel offers as he grabs one from the tortillero [container used to keep tortillas warm]. “Gabriel and I used to roll it like this before dipping it in the caldo [broth], and then ate it.” Miguel demonstrates as he lays the tortilla flat on his palm, looking smaller than it actually is against his large hand before he rolls it outwardly. The tortilla is now a thin roll. He dips it in his caldo before taking a bite from it, clearly enjoying it.

You grab one yourself, craving it. “I’m very familiar with that,” you say with a little smile as you do the same, dipping it into the warm liquid. “Childhood memories,” you say before taking a bite.

Miguel smiles once more at the sight, watching you eagerly eat. There’s definitely a difference now. You’ve got more of an appetite than you did earlier and your tone sounds less tired.

“Did I miss out on something today? Missions?” you ask, looking at Miguel.

Surprisingly, the man that once used to bury himself in work with data reports on anomalies and missions, the fate of the multiverse, playfully rolls his eyes. “No work talk on a sick day. You worry about resting, and that’s all… but I will say, the spiderlings went on a mission today and their team flow was amazing, well planned out,” Miguel says, a hint of admiration and pride in his voice, like that of a proud mentor, or parent.

You smile. “They’ve grown and learned, so much. Sometimes I forget they’re growing up, but it’s happening.” You look down at your plate. Time is passing, whether you realize it or not. The years have gone by, and maybe it was the loss and grief, but when you lost Peter, it never occurred to you that the years would go by so quickly after his death. You almost feel that a part of you doubted you’d even make it this far without him by your side, but you did.

You have.

Despite the tearful days and nights you spent alone grieving, you made it. You silently hope you’ve made Peter proud, wherever he’s now.

“I forget, too,” Miguel says after a few moments, thinking. “It’s strange. They’re still these kids but much more mature, more experienced in their roles than when I first met them. I’m - proud of them.”

“I am, too,” you reply softly, putting your thoughts on Peter to rest. “Though sometimes…”

Miguel chuckles. “Sometimes they say the craziest things, and it reminds you they’re still kids.”

“Right? They keep us on our toes, for sure,” you say chuckling, feeling a sudden discomfort in your stomach, a cramp. The sudden shot of discomfort reminds you that you’ll be having your period soon.

“Trust me, I know,” Miguel replies, still smiling and talking about the spiderlings.

You both chuckle at that and keep eating, with you deciding to ignore the thought of your period. You ask Miguel what he’s been up to all day and he tells you about it, how he’s worked on some things regarding the society, read, and other miscellaneous things. Of course, he mentions checking up on you, accidentally informing you of how often he did it. You find the fact endearing, that he checked on you every thirty minutes.

Eventually, you both finish eating. You feel better than you have all day, so much that you feel like taking a shower. You offer to help Miguel clean up but of course, he politely declines, telling you to go and rest, and then to go shower once you mention wanting to do that.

After your shower, you come back downstairs, planning to just hang out in the living room. After sleeping for the majority of the day, you don’t feel like being in bed any more. You find Miguel fixing something in his bookcase before he turns, glad to see you again. He takes in your appearance and sees you seem to feel better. You sniffle as you approach the couch, which reminds him about the thing he said he’d give you for your stuffy nose, but before he heads to get it, he notices your little pout when you look at the couch.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, walking over to you, standing just a few inches away.

You look up, surprised he noticed you pouting over the fact that his blanket is gone from where you left it. “I… Nothing,” you say softly, causing Miguel’s head to tilt to the side, thinking. It takes him a few seconds before he realizes. The blanket, which he threw in the wash along with yours from earlier.

“Go ahead and lie down, rest. I’ll be right back,” he says gently, itching to place his hand on your shoulder and give you a soft squeeze to reassure you, to comfort you. Once he sees you lay down, he heads upstairs, a plan in action.

He collects what he needs and heads back downstairs, walking through the living room before you even notice him entering the kitchen and dining area of the penthouse. Silently, you wonder what he’s up to. You try to into the kitchen from the couch, curious. He appears a few seconds later, your face softening at the sight.

There’s Miguel, a 6’9” tall man, walking towards you with a blanket draped over his shoulder and on the other one, what seems to be a sweatshirt. On his hand, there’s a saucer plate with a cup on top, steam rising from it. And in the other, a familiar small blue and green tub. He walks towards you, with purpose, a man on a mission.

He reaches you in no time with his long strides and begins to work, placing the saucer and cup on the coffee table, along with the small container before turning to you.

“Miguel?” you say, gazing up at him from the couch.

“Yes?” he responds as he unfolds the blanket.

You don’t even know what to say as he spreads the blanket over your body. You simply gaze at him with wide eyes and awe as you watch him towering over you while he tucks the blanket around your feet and legs once more, leaving it loose above your knees and pulling it up to your tummy.

The sight stirs something in you, something stronger than endearment and appreciation that grows stronger as Miguel carries on with his pampering.

“Is your nose still stuffy?” he asks and for a moment, you don’t even comprehend his question, still awestruck.

“Ye-yes,” you stutter softly, sniffling once more.

Miguel nods and grabs the small blue and green container from the coffee table before he gets down on his knees, next to you. He’s now more eye level with you, though he still towers over you easily. He opens the tub, a familiar scent hitting his nostrils right away.

“Put some on your chest and rub it in gently,” he instructs softly.

You nod and pick some up from the tub once he holds it out to you. You slip your hand under your top and do as he said, pushing past your undergarment to apply it properly. Once done, Miguel nods.

“Good. It also helps putting some on your back,” he says gently, still holding it out for you.

You nod, knowing that, too. You pick up more and lean forward, reaching behind you and under your top once more. You apply the product as best as possible, it being a bit of a struggle with your undergarment, which Miguel notices.

He looks down at the tub and then back up at you. “Do you need help?” he asks quietly, making you pause.

Shaking your head, you reply. “Thank you but it’s alright, I got it.” You lie. You’re struggling but you’re not about to accept Miguel’s help with something so… Personal. Intimate. Especially when it involves Miguel and physical contact.

For a moment, Miguel wonders if you’re simply uncomfortable with the idea of him, as a man, touching you, a woman. He wonders if he’s pushing boundaries just by merely offering.

You stare at him, noticing the look on his face. He’s questioning his offer. You frown and regret your words instantly, thinking that you might have made Miguel feel rejected.

“It involves physical contact,” you say softly. “I don’t want to push your boundaries, Miguel.”

He glances up at you, listening to your words before he nods. He gives you a reassuring smile, feeling relieved. You’re not rejecting his offer, his gesture, for the reasons he was thinking. You’re as always, looking out to respect him and his boundaries.

“Even when you’re sick, nose stuffy and feeling fatigued, you’re still so considerate… so sweet, you know that?” Miguel says staring right into your eyes, without fear or embarrassment from stating those words. “I don’t mind, at all,” he continues as he looks at the container and collects some of the ointment with his fingers. “If you allow me, I’ll help you.”

You smile and facepalm, chuckling. It’s been so long since someone has looked after you like this. The last person was Peter, of course. You used to look after each other when the other got sick, just like Miguel has done for you today. Still smiling, you nod, accepting his help. You remind yourself to accepting the fact that Miguel is looking after you, that this is normal. That friends look after each other.

“Lean forward for me, please,” Miguel says, giving you a smile back.

You do so and lift your top slightly, just enough to let him slip his hand underneath it. “My - I’m wearing my-” you start, trying to tell him you’re wearing an undergarment to support your chest.

“I know,” Miguel says gently. “I could tell you were struggling because of it. Is it okay if I shift it slightly?” he asks carefully before he even makes a move, being a gentleman as always.

“… Yes, that’s alright,” you reply softly.

Miguel nods. “I’m going to slide my hand under your top now,” he says, letting you know what he’s doing as a way to avoid making you uncomfortable, and aware of his actions. As soon as he slips his hand under your shirt, your warmth radiates off your skin, greeting his own.

You stare right ahead, sensing the warmth from his hand even though he hasn’t even touched you yet. You wait as he moves his hand further up.

“I’m going to apply it now,” Miguel says softly, waiting to see your reaction. Once you nod, he nods back. He presses his fingers to your bare flesh, a second later, he begins to rub the ointment onto your soft skin. His fingers move gently but efficiently, making sure he’s applying the product appropriately so it does what it’s supposed to do.

Your eyes move to your lap as you feel Miguel’s fingers on you. They’re warm, but you’re not surprised. The man always seems to be warm, so it’s not unusual. What’s unusual is his actual touch. From pinky hugs to him touching your forehead and now your back, this is a lot of progress on Miguel’s end. It’s a lot for one day and yet, he’s doing it.

Then, there’s your own progress, you suppose. You haven’t had someone look after you in a long time, haven’t had someone touch your bare skin like this. You try to remember the last time someone, Peter, touched your back when you were sick like this. You find that you can’t remember it. It’s been that long.

Miguel rubs his fingers gently over your skin, unable to ignore how soft your skin feels. “I’m going to move your underwear a side. Is that okay?” he asks again, withdrawing his hand to grab more of the ointment.

“Yes, that’s okay,” you reply softly, returning your attention to the moment.

With permission, Miguel slips his hand once again under your top. He shifts the undergarment aside, gently and respectfully, before pressing his fingers to your skin again. With more space now, he moves his fingers more freely, rubbing in the ointment until he feels it’s been applied properly.

Neither of you truly notice that his fingers have gone still against your skin once he’s done. His fingers remain there, pressed to your soft skin, your warmth marrying his.

It’s seconds later that Miguel realizes, leading him to withdraw his hand in a way that would seem hesitant to anyone watching. He exhales softly and collects more ointment, just a little, not as much as before while you both silently miss the touch and warmth from each other, like the moon misses its stars on a starless night sky.

“And then, for the stuffy nose,” Miguel says, gaining your attention. “Just a little right here.” With you facing him, he reaches with his index finger and gently rubs the ointment on your nose. “It’ll help you breathe a little better,” he whispers, staring at your nose to be precise with the application. “There.” He slowly lowers his hand and meets your gaze. You seem surprise, so Miguel gives you a small and sweet smile. “We need to cover these arms,” he says, pointing at them. “The AC has been turning on, you’ll get cold. Here, you can put this on if you’d like.” Miguel tugs at the cloth still draped over his shoulder. A sweatshirt.

Wordlessly, you accept it. You recognize it as his, Miguel’s. Sometimes he wears it around the penthouse in the evening. You remember him wearing it yesterday, which means it’ll smell like him. You put it on, careful not to rub off the ointment from your nose. The sleeves are a bit long for you but you don’t mind, if anything, that makes it feel even more cozy. You sniffle quietly, noticing how warm and soft it is, and despite the ointment’s fragrance on your nose, you still catch Miguel’s scent on it. You smile as you fix it around your waist before Miguel pulls the blanket higher up your body.

“Thank you,” you say softly, gazing at Miguel who is still on his knees next to you.

He’s still smiling, giving you that sweet and gentle smile, even when he reaches behind him. He offers you the saucer plate with the cup.

“I made you a tea, it’s supposed to help with colds,” he says while you accept it. “Be careful not to burn yourself.”

You take a small drink, the flavor settling well with you and rushing soothingly down your throat and chest.

“Thank you, Miguel. That's really soothing and it tastes great.”

Seeing your smile, Miguel continues to smile back. “Me allegra [I’m happy], I'm glad you like it. Are you comfortable?”

You begin to nod but Miguel gets up. “I should get you a pillow. Hold on.”

“Wait, that's not-” you start but Miguel is already up the stairs. A few seconds later, you hear his approaching footsteps.

“Lean forward, please,” he says gently, so you do. Miguel slides the pillow behind you, fixing it so it'll be positioned just right for your head to rest on. “There.” He steps back and looks at you, trying to think if he’s forgetting something, or if there’s anything else he can do to make you feel better and comfortable.

“I… Thank you, Miguel,” you say, looking up at him, holding your tea. You briefly notice that he didn’t bring a pillow from your bedroom, but one of his own since the pillowcase is grey, just like his bedding set.

Miguel smiles softly at you and nods. “Always,” he says softly. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

You nod once more, giving him a smile. “I will, thank you. You’ve done so much… Thank you, truly.”

Miguel crouches, grabbing the ointment container and closing it. “I’m looking out for you, just the way you looked after me,” he says, turning to look at you. “I don’t like seeing you like this, you know. So rest properly, so you’ll be back to your usual self. Please.”

“I will… I am,” you reply, sounding like you’re making him a promise.

“Good, thank you,” he says, as if you’re doing him a great favor by resting and getting better.

“You should rest, too.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you’ve been - looking after me all day. You’re probably tired, too.”

“I’m good,” Miguel reassures you. “Not tired at all. Promise.”

“Alright… will you at least sit down?”

Miguel smirks softly. “That I can do,” he says before he settles on the couch across from you once more. “TV?”

You nod. “Yes, please.”

With a soft smile, Miguel asks what you want to watch before you both decide on something, settling for a movie. You spend the rest of the evening in the living room together, Miguel watching over you like a loyal knight to his queen, both when you’re awake and when you doze off due to the medicines’ effects.

He makes sure you have everything you need and even notices when your face shows signs of discomfort, your hand pressed to your tummy.

“Is your stomach hurting?” Miguel asks, worried that your cold is turning into something else.

Noticing his concern, you ease his worries by telling him the truth. “It’s my period. It’s coming up soon, probably a few days. Or even tomorrow,” you say, trying to remember what day it is. With running into Harry and then your lunch with him, and now sick, you can’t even remember. “It’s cramps. They’re not bad, thankfully.”

Miguel almost scoffs. They’re not “bad” and yet, your face shows clear discomfort. “I can make you another tea - canelita.”

“No, no, it’s alright. I’ll just take some medicine in a bit,” you reassure him before you ask him a question about the movie, distracting him from the topic for the rest of the night, or so you think.

-♥︎-

The next morning you wake up without an alarm. Miguel and you decided last night to take off today again, for your sake, and yet, you’ve waken up just past 7:30 by the need to use the bathroom.

There, you’re met with the lovely (not) news that your period has begun.

“Yay,” you say, grumpily. “Sick and now on my period.”

Fifteen minutes later, you’re back in bed with brushed teeth and different clothes on. You fall asleep again for some time. Only waking up when you hear Miguel’s gentle voice, coaxing you from your sleep.

You blink softly, your gaze finding his warm gaze and sweet face.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers, gazing back at you. He notices you look better today, back to yourself.

“Better,” you reply in a whisper, eyes fluttering for a few seconds to blink the sleep away.

“I’m relieved to hear that,” he says, crouching next to the bed. “How are you feeling… your period?” he asks softly, worried you’re feeling unwell from it. Last night you may have succeeded in changing the topic but not in erasing the worry and thought from Miguel’s mind. It reminded him of the first time he went to your apartment, how unwell you were. You haven’t missed any days at HQ because of your period since then, he knows that. Ever since that time, you’ve added more self-care steps to your period routine but Miguel hasn’t forgotten how unwell you were.

Over the months, he’s silently, and discreetly, made sure you don’t push yourself too much when he guesses you’re on your period. Thankfully, the new things you’ve been doing has helped you a lot, which include drinking canelita ever since he made it for you the first time. Either way, Miguel still tries his best to figure out if you’re pushing yourself too much because he worries about you.

“You don’t have to tell me… I just - you’re okay?” Miguel adds.

“Yes, I- I started today. I’m feeling alright right now. No cramps, or headaches,” you share, feeling comfortable to talk about your period with Miguel.

He seems relieved to hear that. “Good, I’m glad.” He sighs softly. “I bought you medicine either way, if you’re interested.”

You sit up slowly, fixing the covers. His blanket is sprawled over your bed and you’re still wearing the sweatshirt, the one he gave you last night. “You did? When?” you say, shifting slightly and patting the edge of the mattress, offering Miguel a seat.

He stands up and sits, keeping some distance to avoid disrupting how comfortable you look on the bed right now. “After you went to sleep last night, I ordered some. I got it delivered this morning,” he replies. “I figured I could help and offer you another option just in case what you’re taking now is not working. Plus, I remembered that medicine from this universe might be more effective than what you’re taking from your universe.”

“You think so?” you ask, looking hopeful.

Miguel smiles, his gaze softening because of your face. “I think so. Lyla has done some research and comparisons. Medicines are more effective in some universes than others, from prescriptions for colds to menstruation pain, even birth control pills. Apparently this universe is one of them, so this menstruation medicine might be better than yours.” Miguel pulls out a box from his pocket and offers it to you, the package sealed. “So, if you want, try this out. See if it works better. If it does, I can buy it, or if you’d prefer, I can have the infirmary supply it to you, whatever you wish to do. If you’d like to try another prescription in the future, just let me know, too, and we can look for an alternative,” Miguel offers as he watches you look at the box with hope.

“I’m going to give it a try if the need arises, thank you,” you tell him softly, looking up at him with a smile. “If it does, I’ll definitely be asking you or the infirmary to supply it to me. I’ve been trying new ones but they seem to stop being efficient after some time, so I’m hopeful about this one. Thank you so much, Miguel.” You gaze at him happily, feeling hopeful about this medicine. You’ve been using a different kind ever since the day Miguel showed up to your apartment, realizing the former one only seemed to make you drowsy and since then, you’ve been trying out new ones, hoping to find something more stable. You have hope this new medication will help after what Miguel said.

“Always,” Miguel replies, returning the smile. “Just let me know what you want to do, okay? I’ll happily do either. Do you want breakfast yet?”

You place the medication on the nightstand, considering Miguel’s question for a few seconds before realizing your stomach feels empty. It’s as if the moment he brought up food, your body recognizes it’s hungry.

“I myself, do,” Miguel says. “My stomach feels empty. I didn’t eat anything else after the chicken soup.” He pats his stomach, a bit of a frown on his face. “And neither did you,” he adds.

You chuckle. “So does mine, so I could definitely go for breakfast,” you reply. “What are we making?”

“I’m making something I’m certain you’ll like.”

You grin, hearing him emphasize that it’s him that’ll be doing the cooking. “Alright, alright. I’ll just…”

“Sit on the counter and give me cooking advice,” Miguel says, remembering the first time you cooked for him here at the penthouse when he was injured in the spring. He wanted to help you make food but you declined and told him he could offer conversation and advice, but no physical help considering his injuries. Despite you being capable to use your arms and the rest of your body, Miguel refuses to let you do any kind of work. He wants you to keep resting so you’ll fully recover soon.

“I see how it is,” you reply, shaking your head slightly in amusement. “But I can do that… I have no choice.”

Miguel smiles and stands up from the bed. “You’re still recovering, so take it easy. I’ll wait for you downstairs, okay? I’m going to start on the coffee.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit. I’m going to make the bed.”

He nods with a small smile and heads back downstairs, giving you your time to start your morning routine in peace. He’s relieved to see you feeling so much better this morning, even smiling and playing along with him. You’re almost back to your usual self, the way he likes to see you. If he could, Miguel would take away your sickness for himself. Hell, he’d take the period cramps, too, if it meant you wouldn’t experience pain and discomfort.

As Miguel starts on the coffee and waits for you to come downstairs, he wonders to himself for the first time why you got sick. He wonders if it was the rain, or maybe sleeping on the living room floor, even over the rug. Growing up, he was told that such thing can make someone sick among other things, like walking barefoot, or sleeping with wet hair. He was always warned by his Mexican mother about it but he brushed it off, even when he got sick after doing one of those very things he was warned about.

Miguel sighs softly. Maybe it was sleeping on the ground.

Then, he wonders if it was stress from your encounter with Harry Osborn, a thought that brings a frown to Miguel’s face. The encounter with Osborn left you tense and nervous, and he hated seeing you like that. He doesn’t like how Osborn caused you such stress and is now wanting to be back in your life after years of ghosting you when you needed someone after Peter’s death.

Miguel still doesn’t know what your decision on that is. He hasn’t asked, though he won’t deny he’s curious. At the end of the day, it’ll be your decision.

However, that doesn’t mean that Miguel will let go of the grudge he has for the man. Miguel can’t help it, knowing what Osborn did to you. It does more than upset him.

He clears his mind from Osborn when he hears you approaching the kitchen, deciding to not give a moment of his time to the man when you’re here with him. What matters right now, is you, so he carries on with breakfast.

Miguel gives you a cup of coffee and continues to cooks, filling the penthouse with lovely scents of food. You sit at the counter, drinking coffee and talking with him. At some point music starts playing, surprising both Miguel and you.

“Lyla,” he says, remembering. He hardly saw her yesterday since he stayed home and she was busy helping Jess at HQ.

Both of you wait for her to pop up but she doesn’t.

“I guess she’s busy,” you say softly when she doesn’t show up.

Miguel nods with a grin. “Seems like it. I’m sure she’ll make an appearance later today.”

The two of you continue on and have breakfast, with soft music playing in the background. You take your medicine afterwards, which prompts Miguel to ask you to go and lay down. Even when you offer to help clean the kitchen with him, he declines and gently asks you to rest.

So you do. Feeling better than you did the day before, you think about yesterday and everything Miguel did to help you get better, even pushing his own boundaries regarding physical touch. You softly touch the top of your nose, remembering the way he gently applied the ointment yesterday. That leads you to the fact that he applied some on your back, too. That seems surreal but it did happen.

You smile at the thought, thankful for Miguel, who eventually joins you in the living room where you both watch some TV for a while. He’s truly glad to see you in a better mood today, taking notice that you don’t seem as sleepy as yesterday and that your nose isn’t stuffy either. It seems that you’re recovering quickly, which makes Miguel feel relieved. He still feels some worry about your period, though, but he really hopes that the new medication will at least help lessened your symptoms if you experience any.

He watches you for a few seconds after taking a seat, noticing that you’re still wearing his sweatshirt. With looking after you and making sure you have everything you need, he suddenly remembers yesterday, when you told him in your sleepy state that you “like” and then “love” his scent. The thought brings a warmth to his cheeks.

Did you really mean it? Or, was it just words being said in such sleepy state? He almost wants to ask you now but he stops himself, thinking the topic might embarrass you, and maybe, you really didn’t mean them.

He shakes his head at himself, turning to look at the TV instead. You both watch it for a while and spend the morning together. You manage to stay awake all the way up until after lunch time when you excuse yourself to your room, telling Miguel you’re going to take a nap because the medicines prescribed by the doctor at HQ are making you sleepy.

A few hours later, you wake up to your name being called. Miguel is crouched next to you, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. You’ve been sleeping for a few hours and he’s decided to finally wake you up to ask if you’re feeling unwell due to the cold, your period, or both.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks quietly, trying not to startle you too much with his voice.

You nod and stretch your legs under the covers. “Mhm, I’m okay,” you reply sleepily, making Miguel smile softly. He ends up sitting on the floor, next to your bed, and leans back on the nightstand, his body covering most of it. He stays quiet for a few minutes, looking at the ceiling in silence, thinking about something while waiting for you to fully wake up. Ever since you’ve been sick, he’s had this on his mind but every time he’s about to really think about it, something interrupts his thoughts. He’s wondered about it before but he’s never asked about it. Part of the reason why he hasn’t asked is because the timing was not right. The other part, the main reason, is that Miguel didn’t want to know the answer.

He still doesn’t because if the answer is yes, Miguel knows that it will hurt him. The time has come though. With you being sick and Harry Osborn trying to come back into your life, Miguel finds that this is the best time to ask. Sensing that you’re fully awake now, Miguel decides to ask what’s been on his mind.

“Did you ever - get sick? Before joining the society?” Miguel asks, still staring at the ceiling. “Between Peter’s death and you joining the society?” he continues, quietly, softly.

On your side, facing him, you stare at the wall thinking about his question.

“Yes. I got a few colds here and there but nothing more serious like the flu, thankfully,” you reply a few seconds later after thinking about it, thinking of the few times it happened. “And then a few times because of my period.”

Miguel nods, gulping softly. He turns to face you, remembering when he went to your apartment the first time ever because you were unwell due to your menstruation. You were all alone in pain and discomfort. That was one time alone - one month in many years of solitude. He silently wonders for how many of them did you experience a similar situation? How many times did you lay alone on your bed in an empty apartment while the rest of the world went on about its day?

How many times did you lay half-unconscious, half-awake squirming in pain and clutching your stomach?

It kills Miguel to think about it.

“Hey,” you whisper softly, catching his attention. For several seconds, his eyes have a distant and pained look in them. “What’s wrong?”

“I”m sorry,” he whispers back, blinking and coming back to the present - to you.

“For what?”

Miguel sighs and looks away, leaning his head back. Eyes closed, he wonders if he should tell you.

“Miguel?” you whisper. “What is it? You look upset.”

Miguel’s head snaps back to face you, eyes open. “Not with you.” He shakes his head, making it clear he’s not upset because of you or at you. “Never with you, I’m sorry. I just - you being sick - I’ve thought about it before and now that I’m here to see it, it’s brought back thoughts - questions,” Miguel says in a whisper, eyes meeting yours.

“Questions… About what?” You prop yourself up with one arm, wondering what’s going on inside Miguel’s mind. Whatever it is, is bothering him deeply. You wonder if it has to do with his question about you being sick in the past while alone.

“It hurts me,” Miguel admits softly.

“What hurts?” you ask, brows knitted, concerned.

“To think about you, alone for so long all those years. Especially when I think about you feeling sick, with no one to care for you - to make sure you ate, someone to ease your discomfort. To think that you were on your own,” he whispers.

You inhale deeply, your heart’s strings pulled by how bothered Miguel is by this. It feels as if Miguel really is in pain.

“Don’t think about that, Miguel,” you tell him softly. “It’s in the past now. Those days are over.”

“But you shouldn’t have been alone. Someone should’ve been there with you.”

“It was my fault. I pushed everyone away after Peter died.”

“No,” Miguel says, shaking his head. His tone is somewhat stern. “None of your friends should’ve ever accepted you parting from them. They should’ve kept reaching out. Kept showing up to look for you - to make sure you were okay. You had just lost Peter - you shouldn’t have been alone,” Miguel insists, his voice gentle. “Harry… He should’ve been there for you, especially.”

Surprise rushes to you. You weren’t expecting Miguel to talk about this, for this to be what’s been bothering him so deeply, as if it pains him in a physical way. “I was going to cut ties with him, too,” you reply, trying to lessen his hurt by stating a truth. “I was planning on it.”

“Planning,” Miguel states. “But you didn’t. Maybe you would’ve gone through with it but you didn’t actually do it because he disappeared before you could. He just - left you,” he says softly, shaking his head in disbelief. Ever since he learned about Harry Osborn and the fact that he abandoned you right after Peter’s funeral, it’s been impossible for Miguel to not hold a grudge against him but now, knowing that there were times when you were sick and alone, it only makes that grudge grow. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry you were alone all those years, with no one to look after you.”

“You have no reason to apologize. You didn’t do anything,” you reply gently, wishing that you could lay a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

“No one deserves to be alone,” Miguel says.

You slowly sit up when he says that. “No, no one does. Including you,” you say softly, remembering the time Miguel told you he used to think he was meant to be alone, to live a lonely life.

Miguel’s gaze softens. He nods. “Including me.”

Smiling, you pull the covers higher as Miguel watches you. He returns the smile, feeling some calmness despite his negative emotions about this topic.

“I’m sorry if I’m… Overstepping.”

“You’re not,” you respond, gently.

He gives you a nod. “I just - I hate thinking about it. I wish…” Miguel trails off. “I wish you hadn’t been alone for so many years. If I,” Miguel pauses. “If I was there… I would’ve never left you alone. I would’ve gone to your place, every day, and knocked on your door until you opened up.”

You smile softly, your eyes slowly filling up with tears because of Miguel’s words. You blink them away, trying not to cry in front of him. With a sigh, you nod.

“I have no doubt you would’ve,” you tell him, believing this in your heart.

Miguel smiles, his own eyes glistening while thinking about the past. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he says, sincerely.

You shake your head, sniffling a bit. “Don’t be, Miguel. In the past, I’ve wished I had been here sooner, that I could’ve been here for you when you needed someone, too. Even if you pushed me away, I would’ve kept trying, the same way I did when I first started organizing the lab for you. Knowing what I know now about your life, I’ve wished for that many times. Too many,” you admit. “But you know what? I’m just thankful we’re in each other’s lives now. I wish it had been sooner but the fact that we’re even here now, that makes feel so grateful.”

You sniffle softly, thinking about your past.

“Those years I spent on my own… They’re in the past. Behind me. And although there were many lonely days and nights - days that I can’t even remember anymore because they all blended into one - it makes me appreciate the now so much more. I’m thankful for our friends, the spider gang. This,” you say gesturing to Miguel and yourself. “I’m so - so thankful for it. For all of it. For you,” you answer softly, smiling sweetly at Miguel despite your eyes threatening to spill your tears.

Miguel smiles again and leans forward. He reaches with his hand, placing it on top of the bed. He offers his pinky finger, which you notice immediately. You smile warmly at the offer and take it, wrapping your own pinky around his. Gently, you give it a squeeze, one Miguel returns.

His feelings of hurt regarding this conversation have calmed more. A part of him will always wish he had met you earlier, that he had found you sooner so you could’ve been in his life earlier, but your words and smile - your sweetness - replaces his hurt with pure ternura [endearment], so much the next words simply spilled from his mouth like stardust.

“I’m grateful for you, too, dulzura [sweetness],” Miguel whispers, still smiling. “I have been, for a long time now.”

You stare at each other, smiling, your chests stirring with affection, appreciation, and love. For several minutes, you simply enjoy the moment of such vulnerability with Miguel, calming each other.

You think about the little nickname Miguel gave you. Despite all the feelings you’re experiencing right now, that doesn’t mean you missed that part. You chuckle, still holding his pinky finger.

“Does this mean I can call you ‘Miggle?’” you ask.

Miguel rolls his eyes, playfully, of course. “Only when we’re alone. The spider gang would have a field day with that nickname. Peter B. especially,” he says gently.

You snort softly. “Fair enough.”

Miguel stares at your joined pinky fingers. “You may call me something else.”

Humming softly, you give Miguel’s pinky finger a hug with your own, smiling. “I’m going to think about it, then.”

“I look forward to hearing your ideas,” Miguel replies, amused.

You stare at the wall, beginning to think of a nickname you’d like to give Miguel.

Mig.

Migs.

Miggy.

Fangs.

You feel a cramp in your stomach, interrupting your thoughts. With your free hand, you press your stomach slightly, something that catches Miguel’s attention.

“Does your tummy hurt?” he asks, worried.

“Just a cramp,” you reply. “I’m going to take some of the medicine you gave me.”

He nods. “I can get you a heating pad. I have one.”

“I have… the socks with rice.”

Miguel’s brows raise in surprise. “The ones I made you?” he asks. “From back then?”

You nod, looking away, embarrassed. “Uh, yes, they’re quite efficient, so I… Kept them. They’re in the dresser,” you say nodding at them.

He turns to look, still surprised, only to find them laying next to a clean stack of clothes. He didn’t notice them before until now. He nods after a few seconds, gently squeezing your pinky finger. He doesn’t want to let go, even if he doesn’t voice that, but he also wants to look after you.

“How about I make dinner and then you take the medication? I’ll heat up the rice socks for you, if that’s what you want to use.”

You nod after a few seconds. “I like that plan, but I can help-”

“By resting,” Miguel finishes, somehow standing up without letting go of your pinky finger. “I got it. You rest, alright?”

“Alright,” you say with a sigh, still not used to someone looking after you like this after so long.

“Good. I’ll cook and you can rest. I’ll tell you when dinner is ready.” Miguel stares at your joined fingers once again. He frowns for a second before squeezing your finger one last time for today.

You understand, so you squeeze back before letting go. “I’m going to take a shower while you cook. A hot shower always helps me.”

He nods, smiling softly. “If that helps, then go ahead and take your time. We have unlimited hot water.”

“Trust me, I know,” you say standing up at last from the bed. “I’ve become quite spoiled with the shower here, I feel like I forgot what my shower even looks like.”

Miguel chuckles despite the fact that he remembers that soon you’ll be returning to your universe. Your building will be livable once again and you’ll be gone. He fights the urge to tell you that you can come use the shower whenever you wish to. That you can use all the hot water.

That you can stay here longer, even if your building is ready.

But Miguel doesn’t.

“It hasn’t been that long, has it?” he asks, personally feeling that it hasn’t. Weeks have gone by, but for Miguel, it feels like you moved in just yesterday. “You just got here.”

You laugh softly as you grab something you’ll need for your shower. “It feels like that sometimes, doesn’t it?”

Miguel nods. Always. “Yes, sometimes,” he replies instead, looking away from you and around the bedroom. It looks so homey, so cozy. So you. He wishes the bedroom would look like this for longer. He sighs quietly, shaking his head as you gather what you need. He needs to let it go. He clears his throat. “I’ll be downstairs in the kitchen, alright? Take your time with the shower, no rush.”

You nod with a smile. “Alright. I’ll be downstairs shortly.”

Miguel gives you a little nod and smile, wondering what you’d think about his thoughts. If only he voiced them. He finally steps out of the bedroom and leaves you to get ready for your shower, pushing his thoughts aside and focusing on cooking dinner and making you feel better, even though his mind is whirling with thoughts about you moving back to your universe, about your expressed gratitude for him, his nickname for you, which slipped from his mouth without a thought, and of your joined pinkies.

Two hours later, you lay on the couch. You’re in clean pajamas, wrapped up in Miguel’s blanket. You’re still wearing his sweatshirt, something that pleases Miguel for some reason. The socks with rice are under your clothes, pressed to your tummy. As soon as you came downstairs after your shower, he heated them up for you since he remembered to get them while you were showering.

You also took your medication for your cold and the new medicine Miguel got you for your period, which seems to have helped with the cramping.

And of course, Miguel made canelita for you. Your empty cup is now on the coffee table thanks to Miguel, who noticed you falling asleep still holding on to it.

As you sleep, Miguel sits across from you. The TV is on since you both decided to watch the telenovela again but you fell asleep halfway through it, which is no surprise to him due to the medication, and the fact that you got hit with a cold and your period at once. Definitely too much in a few days.

Miguel sighs softly. At least you’re feeling better. The worse of the cold is over now, at least it seems so, and you have new medicine for your period, so hopefully it’ll be better this month.

“She’s sleeping?”

Miguel blinks in surprise, finding Lyla over you. “Yes,” he says softly.

Lyla nods, watching you. “She always looks very peaceful in her sleep.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow but nods. “She does.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Miguel replies.

“I’m surprised you’re awake.”

“Why?”

Lyla snorts and disappears for a second before appearing over the coffee table. “You fall asleep on the couch sometimes, especially recently.”

“Okay, and?”

“I’m just saying.”

Miguel rolls his eyes, not annoyed but just wondering why Lyla is even bringing that up. “How are things at HQ?” he asks.

“Good. Everything is running just fine. Don’t worry.” Lyla stares off to the side, arms crossed over her chest now. “I learned about a theory the other day.”

“What’s the theory?” he asks.

“Humans sleep better when people they love are around. Sometimes even small things that remind the human of their loved ones help, like the sight of their jewelry, or the smell of their perfume…”

Miguel hums. “That’s interesting. What piqued your interest in that?”

Lyla shrugs. “Nothing, just came across the article. Interesting stuff,” she says looking at Miguel and then at your sleeping form. “Well, I’m glad to see she’s doing well.”

“She is. She was better today. I’m sure the worst is over now,” Miguel says, his tone one of relief.

“I’m glad,” she says, turning to face Miguel again. “Well… I’m going back to HQ. I have some stuff to do.”

Miguel turns to her, nodding. “Okay, that’s alright. Thank you.”

Lyla smiles and nods. “You got it, boss. Take care of Y/N.”

“I will,” he says before Lyla gives him a peace sign and disappears.

He turns to look at you, finding your sleeping face. You truly do look so peaceful when you sleep.

“Always.”

A/N: MIGUEL GAVE US A NICKNAME!!!!! Sorry for screaming but - it was necessary!! You guys... Miguel... 🥺😭 HE WAS SO SWEET AND TENDER AND JSJIDJ why is he not real??? I want to marry him. AND WHEN HE TOUCHED OUR CHIN ??? AND APPLIED VAPORUB ON OUR BACKS AND NOSE????!!!! (Not me screaming about my own fic) Miguel really said f them physical contact boundaries today 😌 for real!!

I really hope you guys enjoyed this update!! Thank you for the support as always, guys 🥺 it really does mean a lot to me!! THANK YOU!!!!

-Alondra ❤️

Also, this was Miguel fr but with a smile and tenderness because it's reader obviously:

taglist: (text block limit sucks) @loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp

@rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea @moonsua1 @darksidescorner @geminis93 @1800-get-alife @hrrtkreuz @oharasfilipinawife @dropyoursocksandgrabyourcrocss @may4ri @t4naiis @f1-hoff @llumetrii

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara scenarios #spiderman 2099 #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel spiderman #across the spiderver fanfiction #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel spiderverse #nonviolent communication #soft!Miguel O'Hara

[often-daydreaming]

Road Trip

It was, it was always just a fight but the last one had been Jason and Bruce had been one of their worst and things only escalated after he accused Jason of having something to do with the Joker's disappearance.

It was another thing to hold against him. Another excuse to keep the Red Hood at arms length but Barbara knows Jason wasn't anywhere near Gotham when the clown went missing. Bruce checked. Tim double checked, but she knows because it wasn't like Jason was even trying to hide from any of them.

He was just traveling.

At first it was with the rest of the Outlaws for a bit and on and after for a while afterwards with the rest of his team joining up at different points along his trip across the country.

Weeks spent on the road from New York to Pennsylvania, a detour down to Atlanta and through Kentucky. A weekend spent traveling between Michigan and Toronto and a surprising sighting in Kansas which was one of the only stops she still didn't understand since he'd have to be traveling all night just to get to that small town he'd been spotted in and Jason didn't seem to be in any hurry.

A part of her had been tempted to call Kara and see if she'd look into the matter for her but cases kept piling up and they got busy. If it wasn't the usual villain of the day causing trouble then it was the power vacuum left behind by the still missing Joker or one the guys getting into trouble. So she left it alone.

Jason didn't seem like he was in any trouble. He'd come back sooner or later. He always came back. Except he didn't. Weeks turned into months, then a full year passed them by as sightings of the Red Hood grew less and less frequent and it was only a preemptive notification she sat up so long ago that reminded her of Jason's absence as she stares down at the computer monitor playing a few seconds of footage displaying a small crowd of people, the Outlaws, some of Young Justice and the Titans along with a few other people who were cheering him on as he slipped a ring on some red haired woman's finger. The context was clear enough but she didn't find out more about the what and why until later that night when Roy sent out an update to the rest of the Titans claiming dibs on being the best man.

The above is just something that I cobbled together after reading a few Jason leaves Gotham fics and the thought of Jazz killing the Joker for (insert reasons) so my mind kind of jumped to Jason living out his best Cinderella moment, chasing after, flirting (along with getting threatened by a pair of overprotective parents) and road tripping with his team while trying to find the woman who lost her bloody baseball bat. After they meet he's just doubling down on everything with the intent of marrying her, Jazz getting her own little road trip, telling Jason where they're going next or even making a game out of if he can find her at the next stop on the Fenton family supernatural hunting/cataloging road trip cause I know they love talking about ghost but the image of Jack and Maddie fighting Bigfoot is amazing.

And the Fentons are happy for the two of them. At least he wasn't another Johnny. They had Tucker check just to be sure while everyone else just kind of assumes the rest of the bat family already knew when it was actually a mix of (we're super busy right now) and (maybe things will be a little peaceful if we give Jason some space) leaving Bruce trying to play catch up and depending on if he's reformed having to outdo Vlad who is already paying for everything.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt

[sainns]

i'll go as long as it's with you ㅤ⊹ㅤ nishimura riki

gnreader ㅤ୨୧ㅤ 𝓒ontent . . .ㅤf2l, riki is kinda cocky help, suicide joke, dialogue heavy, i had no idea how to end this so sorry for the awkward ending, not proofreadㅤ──ㅤ 1.3k ( 🗒 )

it's almost three in the morning when you hear something hit your window along with the buzzing of your phone. you turn over, groaning in annoyance; you know exactly who it is.

nishimura riki, the absolute bane of your existence. the boy you've lived next to since you were five years old, the boy who has unfortunately forced his way into becoming your best friend.

he's not as bad as you make him out to be, not really, he just has an annoying habit of wanting to take you to random abandoned places he's found with his friends. places he insists are better in the middle of the night, when there's no noise nor light in your small town.

you hit answer after the third ring, holding your phone up to your ear, "what?"

"you have bad manners," he replies. you can hear his stupidly endearing smile through the phone, "anyways, get up, i'm taking you somewhere,"

"i don't remember you asking," still, you push the covers away from your body, slipping out of bed.

"i don't have to ask, you'll go," he hums. you hate that he's right.

you hold back a sigh, grabbing a hoodie off of your floor. you don't bother trying to make yourself look decent, pulling the hoodie over your head and leaving on your worn out pajama pants. you slip a random pair of shoes on—you thought about wearing slides but god only knows where he's taking you. the first time he did this you ended up with wet and muddy socks because of your tired decision.

“it's late,” you walk over to your window, pulling it open. you smile when you see riki wave.

“it's late,” he makes his voice an annoyingly high pitch mocking you, “like you haven't been up later,”

you roll your eyes, “whatever. where's the ladder so i can get down?”

it's dark but you can see him shrug, throwing his hands up comically, “don't know. just jump,”

“i'm not jumping out of my window,”

“why not? i'll catch you and it'll be like we're romeo and juliet,”

“juliet doesn't jump out of her window, riki,”

“she should've. maybe then she would still be alive,”

you let out a laugh of disbelief, covering your mouth with your free hand, “you're dumb. go get the ladder, please?”

“i make better grades than you do, but sure. i’ll go look for it, be back as soon as i find where your parents hid it,” he salutes you, hanging up the phone as he walks off.

you watch him for as long as you can see him, losing his figure when he walks the the side of your house. 

he's only gone for a minute or two before you see him again, this time carrying the metal ladder in his hands. you watch as he sets it up, licking his lips in concentration. then he gives you a thumbs up, signaling you to climb down.

you climb out your window, careful not to hit your head and begin your descent down. you've done this a million times at this point, you're practically an expert at sneaking out—if you ignore the one time you were caught but that was ages ago. no matter how much you claim to be an expert, though, once you're in his reach, riki continues to grab your waist to keep you steady for the last few steps.

when you place your foot on the grass, his hands leave your body. sometimes you find yourself missing his touch but you don't acknowledge that feeling.

“so, where are we going?”

he grins, “my backyard,”

you blink at him in astonishment. he woke you up at—you check your phone—2:58AM just to take you into his backyard?

“i'm going back to bed,” you attempt to turn around but riki's hand on your wrist stops you.

“yn,” he drags out the last syllable of your name, “don’t go, please. you're gonna like it,”

you frown at him, “how much?”

“so much. swear on my life,” his hand slips from your wrist into yours, lacing your fingers together.

you look down at your hands, “if i don't like it, you'll kill yourself then?”

“sure. you're gonna have to explain to my mom why i did it, though,”

“i'm think she'll understand,”

“you're annoying,” he tugs on your hand, pulling you towards his house, “come on,”

you let him pull you to his backyard and you let him cover your eyes with his hands as he walks you into his backyard. 

“okay, keep your eyes closed,” he pulls his hands away, making sure your eyes are in fact closed.

“this is scary,”

“it's just my backyard, you dork,”

“what if i open my eyes to a bunch of bodies?” you feel him kick your leg, “what the hell?”

“i don't kill people. shut up, you're ruining the moment,”

“what moment?”

“be quiet and you'll see, yeah?” 

you hum, listening to his steps get farther away from you. you have no clue as to what he's doing or why he's doing it. you figure he could've waited until the morning to show you whatever it is that's in his backyard, but that's how he is. he does whatever he wants and you follow along, even if you probably shouldn't. you can't help it.

“okay, you can open your eyes,” you hear his voice in your ear, sending shivers down your back. you open your eyes, not even bothering to be slow about it.

his backyard is lit up by fairylights, hanging up on the fence and next to the tree is a large blanket laid out with even more blankets on tops of it and pillows against the tree's trunk. you notice a basket of snacks and a laptop sitting in the middle, you smile, “what's this?”

he wraps his arm around your shoulder, “date night. we're gonna watch a movie,”

“date night?”

“uh, yeah,” he clears his throat awkwardly, “like.. a date. a couple thing,”

you look up at him, “are we a couple?”

he frowns, “okay, quit making fun of me. hold on, i need a second,”

you smile at him expectantly, a teasing glint in your eyes as you wait for him to speak.

“i like you,” he grabs your face in between his hands, bringing you closer to him, “i had a way better confession but, like, i’m way too nervous to think right now,”

you push up on feet, rising so that you can press your lips against his. it's a short kiss, nothing too extravagant, but apparently it was enough for him because when you pull away his face is a bright red and he's staring at you as if you grew a second head.

“oh. oh okay,”

“that's the worst thing you can say after kissing someone,”

“sorry! sorry—i'm nervous, i told you,” he presses his hand against your eyes stop you from looking at him so intensely.

“okay,” you hum, “you can be nervous while we're watching a movie,”

you remove his hand from over your eyes and drag him over to the mess of blankets he set up, pulling him down to sit down with you.

he groans, leaning his head against yours, “how are you being normal right now?”

“’cos i'm gonna go home and scream into my pillow then call all my friends about this,”

“you just reminded me that i need to call jake.”

#ㅤ⠀ ૮꒰ ˊᗜˋ ꒱ა ♡ ㅤ⠀ #enhypen x reader #niki x reader #riki x reader #niki x you #niki x y/n #niki fluff #enha x reader #enha x you #enha x y/n #enha fluff #enha scenarios #enhypen x you #enhypen x y/n #enhypen fluff #enhypen headcanons #nishimura riki x reader #ni ki x reader #enhypen scenarios #niki headcanons #nishimura riki fluff #nishimura riki imagines

[lvnleah]

Sunrise Morning’s | Alessia Russo

Based on this request :)

Summary: your 3-year-old twins decide it’s a great idea to wake you and Alessia up and go to the beach.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A flight to Italy used to be easy for you and your wife Alessia, it was a flight that was just short of three hours but now that you were travelling with your three year old twins the flight felt like it lasted forever.

Your three year old twins, Leo and Emilia, were fairly easy three year olds. You and Alessia had gotten lucky because ever since they were born they had been easy babies.

You were halfway through the flight, there was still an hour to go out of the 2 hours and 30 minutes the flight was. The first hour the twins spent napping, Leo napped on Alessia’s chest and Emilia napped on yours.

“Mama, I hungry!” Emilia whined, slouching in the plane seat, “So bored!”

“Not much longer now, Bubs,” you said, pulling Emilia’s top back down as it slipped up, “Would you like a snack?”

She nodded her head and sat up, you pulled the snack box out of your bag. As you reached for the snack box, Leo’s eyes widened with curiosity. He was sat on Alessia’s lap, still sleepy from his nap as he rested his head against her chest.

Leo had always been more of a Mumma’s boy, he was attached to Alessia and went everywhere with her but he had your personality. However, Emilia was more of a Mama’s girl and was clingy to you. She was the louder one of the pair and was a little chatterbox like Alessia, she even was as clumsy as her Mumma.

Leo’s little fingers pointed at the colourful packaging as he leaned forward, trying to get a better look. Alessia shifted him on her lap, her gentle smile mirroring your own.

“Leo, do you want a snack too?” you asked, opening the box and revealing an assortment of crackers, dried fruit, and mini sandwiches.

Emilia had already grabbed a handful of pretzels and was munching away, her hunger temporarily forgotten as she watched the movie on the screen in front of her.

Leo nodded his head, his dirty blonde curls falling in front of his face. You held the box out to him as he leaned over Emilia, he picked out a few small cookies before going back to resting his head on Alessia’s chest.

After a while, Leo started to squirm in his seat beside Alessia that he had moved to. Emilia was still invested in her movie but Leo was starting to become restless.

“Mama, I’m bored.” Leo whined, “We nearly there yet?”

You glance at Alessia, both of you sharing a knowing look. Travelling with young children was always a ride for sure, and this flight was no exception. You reached into your bag again, pulling out a small colouring book and a set of crayons.

"Hey, Leo," Alessia says, leaning over the seat to hand him the colouring book, "How about we colour together? Look, there's a picture of an airplane!"

Leo's eyes lit up, and he eagerly took the colouring book. Alessia shifted him slightly, making room for him to sit up and colour. Meanwhile, Emilia glances over, intrigued by the activity.

"Can I colour too?" she asked, pulling the earphones out of her ears.

"Of course!" Alessia replied, handing her a crayon. "What colour should we make the sky?"

Emilia chose blue, and soon both twins were engrossed in their colouring. Leo carefully stayed within the lines, while Emilia scribbled with enthusiasm.

As you watched your children, you felt a mix of exhaustion and joy. Flights used to be so much easier when they were babies and sometimes you felt like you were disturbing the people around you.

"Only one more hour," Alessia whispered, “Then we can palm them off on my parents.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You and Alessia had now been in Italy with the twins for a few days now, you’d spent that time visiting Alessia’s family, catching up with them and spending days at the beach. You were staying at her grandparents house and they loved the twins, meaning you and Alessia got some time to yourself.

Over the past couple of days, Emilia and Leo had fallen in love with the beach. You’d spent hours on the beach with them and Alessia’s family, every evening it was all they could talk about.

It was currently five in the morning, Alessia’s arm was draped over your stomach whilst her head rested in the crook of your neck. You heard your bedroom door creak open, the sound of tiny feet tapping against the cold floor tiles followed.

"Mama, Mama!" Leo's voice sounded, barely above a whisper, "Can we go swimming? Please?"

Emilia echoed him, her curls bouncing as she climbed on the bed. "Swimming, Mama!"

You hummed, rubbing your eyes as you rolled over onto your back, “Babies, what are you doing up?”

“We wanna go beach, Mama!” Leo smiled, climbing up and sitting on top of you.

A ground sound from Alessia as Emilia flopped on top of her, her sleepy confusion melted into a soft smile as she reached for Emilia, pulling her into a warm hug.

“Bubs, it’s too early,” Alessia murmured, her hand running through Emilia’s golden curls.

"But the beach!" Leo's eyes widened, and he pointed toward the window. "Look! Beach!”

You sighed, “Guys the sun isn’t even up yet, we need to wait for mr sun to wake up before we can go!”

Emilia’s smile turned into a quivering lower lip, slipping out of Alessia’s grip. “No fair, Mama! We want beach now!”

Leo kicked his legs in protest. “Sunrise takes too long, Mama!”

Alessia sat up, “Leo, no. We don’t kick okay?” She said, a stern look that you could never take seriously on her face, “No kicking.”

“Sorry Mumma,” he mumbled, “I just want to go beach!”

Leo flopped on your chest, “And we can bubba, just not right now.” You calmly explained, kissing his forehead, “We can go later on, how about we cuddle.”

“No!” Emilia whined, “We want beach!”

You glanced at Alessia, who smiled as you sighed. You knew the twins wouldn’t fall back to sleep and they definitely weren’t giving in about the beach any time soon.

"Maybe we should just take them," she whispered. "They won't let us sleep anyway."

You nodded, glancing at the time beside you on the clock. 4:50am. Once the twins had gotten their breakfast, you would make it just in time for sunrise.

“Okay, okay!” You gave in, the twins cheering in unison, “we’ll go to the beach, but first we need breakfast!”

“I love you, Mama!” Leo cheered, wrapping his arms around your neck.

You slipped out of bed and threw on a baggy hoodie and black shorts before carrying Emilia downstairs, Alessia carried Leo close behind you.

The twins sat at the kitchen island, chatting between themselves as they coloured whilst you and Alessia tagged teamed on making breakfast. Alessia made breakfast for you and her while you cut up some fruit and pancakes for the twins.

Before you knew it, it was 5:20am and you were getting the twins ready to head to the beach. You dressed Emilia in a little sundress and Leo in a linen shirt and shorts set.

Alessia secured them in the double stroller, and you set off towards the beach. The air smelled of salt as you walked along the narrow back path that led to the see front. The twins chattered about sandcastles and seashells, their excitement contagious.

As you reached the beach, the sky began to blush with pink and orange hues. The twins squealed, pointing at the water. "Look, Mama! Look!"

You and Alessia settled onto a sun chair together, your toes sinking into the sand. The twins wasted no time getting out of the stroller, their little hands scooping up sand to build castles.

The sun peeked above the horizon, casting a warm glow on the water. You was cuddled into Alessia, your head resting against her chest.

“This is perfect.” She murmured, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Mumma look!” Emilia called out to Alessia, pointing at her sandcastle, “look at my castle!”

Alessia gasped, matching the little girls enthusiasm, “Wow bubs!” She smiled, “that’s amazing! Are you going to decorate it?”

“Yeah!” Leo nodded his head, “we find some shells!”

The twins ran around, collecting a bucket of shells to decorate their castles with. You and Alessia watched peacefully together as the sun rose around you.

After an hour or so, the twins' energy slowed down and they curled up on the sun chair beside you. Leo yawned, rubbing his eyes. Emilia curled up against him, her thumb in her mouth.

Their little eyelids began to flutter as they drifted off to sleep. Alessia stood up and covered their bodies with her jumper, tucking them in before rejoining you on the sun chair. She laid down on top of you, her head now resting on your chest.

“We’re so lucky,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

You pressed your lips to her forehead. “We are,” you agreed, “I’m glad we came down here.”

You and Alessia laid together, cuddled into each other's embrace, while the twins peacefully slept together. You watched the sunrise, the different shades mixing together, as you talked about your future. Nothing else in the world mattered to you in the moment, only your little family mattered.

#awfc x reader #woso x reader #alessia russo fluff #alessia russo x reader

[crguang]

love language

Overworked and always putting themselves second, both Himeko and Natasha just need someone to help them relax after a tiring day <3

fluffy smut, sub!himeko, sub!natasha, gn!reader, oral sex, fingering, squirting (himeko), ~3k words for both

A/N: this was in the drafts for 2 months… finally polished it off enough to post it omg.

You’re cozy between warm sheets and fluffy pillows, the light of the cabin dimmed to help you relax as you read the last few sentences of the volume in your hands.

You’re entirely focused on the story’s conclusion until you reach the last words and blink out of the daze you’ve been in for the past… three hours? You glance at the digital clock on the nightstand, disbelievingly at first, then softly close the book. It’s past midnight, you hadn’t planned to finish it tonight and you’re surprised you managed to get through the end without getting interrupted. The day’s fatigue accumulates at the corner of your eyes. For a minute, you sit in the bed, simply taking in the book you just read. It left you somewhat unsatisfied, you’re not a fan of the protagonists walking different paths after spending most of the story working to reunite with each other. It reminds you of the Astral Express, of the bonds you’ve forged with the Nameless; the thought of one day separating from them saddens you. You know each of them have a road to follow but they’ve become family over the years, that also goes for Stelle, who’s the team’s newest addition.

As you reflect on your book, you realize— a little late— that you’re alone in the cabin. The spot beside you is untouched as it was this morning, not a crease on the clean pillows. You frown. Himeko must still be working on the train, even after telling you it wouldn’t be long and that she’d be ready for bed before you could finish another chapter. You don’t care about her not fulfilling her word, concern swells in your chest instead because it’s the third day this week where she’s slept past one in the morning, too preoccupied with making sure the Express runs smoothly. She easily forgoes rest to prioritize her work, and while you’re all grateful for her dedication, you wish she would not consider herself second best.

You lift the comforter off your body and step into your slippers. You stretch your arms over your head as you make your way to the door, softly sliding it open. The train car is quiet, only a low whirring sound can be heard from the archive room, the familiar noise relaxing you. The lights are dimmed, never completely shut in case of emergency. You walk down the corridor to reach the parlor. The door slides open and you hear soft murmurs of conversation as you step into the parlor, blinking a couple times to adjust to the bright lights. Himeko is seated on one of the large couches, discussing something with Pom-Pom, and doesn’t hear you come in. The conductor does since they’re facing you, but they only nod pensively at whatever Himeko is saying.

You cross your arms over your chest and wait, leaning on the wall. It gives you the chance to admire your pretty girlfriend; her coat is discarded somewhere on the train, leaving her shoulders bare, and from this angle you can pinpoint the few dispersed moles on her shoulder blades while the rest are hidden by her silky, red hair. Her face is bare of any makeup, long lashes brushing her cheeks with every blink and plump, pink lips you can’t help but stare at. You can almost smell her signature perfume if you concentrate long enough, it’s usually mixed with a strong coffee aroma to create a scent specific to her. Himeko is a refreshing sight no matter the hour of the day.

You don’t mind waiting for her to notice you, not wanting to interrupt her conversation. She eventually does when she gestures to the phonograph, eyes glossing over you for a second before she turns back to Pom-Pom, then head whirling back to you as she registers your presence in the room. Himeko smiles softly at you, waving in greeting, and you return it easily. You can’t really hear what they’re saying because of how low they’re talking, only snippets and words that make no sense out of context. After another minute where you assume the conversation is getting wrapped up, Himeko stands from the couch and bids the conductor goodnight. She walks over to you and reaches for your hand the moment she’s close enough, fingers lacing with yours.

“You’re still up?” Himeko asks, her thumb absentmindedly rubbing your skin.

“Mhm. I finished my book.”

“Oh, dear, I’m sorry. I had to fix a couple things, then Pom-Pom wanted to share their thoughts on something, I lost track of time. You shouldn’t have waited.”

Her free hand comes up to cup your cheek for an instant before lowering down your bicep. Himeko is always touching you in some way, whether it’s with a palm on your lower back or her fingertips tracing shapes into your forearm. She does it unconsciously, you noticed. It warms you to think that her body seeks yours out whenever you’re in the same room.

“It’s nothing,” you say, “I’m more concerned about you.”

“Me?”

“You’ve been sleeping later and later recently. Are you okay?”

Something gleams in Himeko’s eyes at the worry lacing your words. Her gaze softens like it often does when she looks at you and a small smile grows on her lips, squeezing your hand once.

“Of course. There’s always something to do on the Express, is all. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’ll always worry about you.”

You see appreciation on her face. Himeko leans forward to press a sweet, chaste kiss on your lips. Her hand tugs you along as she opens the parlor door and begins to walk towards her cabin.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

You let her lead you to her room. It’s in the same state you left it, but it feels warmer with her here. You settle onto the bed as Himeko rummages around for the gown she sleeps in and unashamedly take in the curves of her body as she undresses. She shoots you an amused look that has you smiling innocently, pulling the gown over her head and smoothing out her hair. She joins you, lays down against the pillows and wraps her arms around you to gently pull you into her. You inhale slowly into her neck. One hand strokes your hair and you sigh softly at the same time Himeko makes a noise of contentment. A comfortable silence stretches between you for a moment, broken only by the reassuring sound of the Express in the background. You sneak an arm around her waist to hold her tighter.

“I love having you like this…” Himeko murmurs with a slow exhale. “I look forward to it every night.”

You hum, nuzzling into her. Your reply is slightly muffled, “You do so much in a day. You deserve to feel this relaxed more often.”

“Sometimes I don’t know how you have the energy to deal with me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Himeko sighs again, and her hand trails down your back in soothing motions. “You're so understanding with me, indulging me when I need it. You're always there, even when I don't know I need something, you give me the help I need. You don’t mind me working late so often; you have… so much patience for me.”

You pull away from her to look her in the eyes, brows furrowed in confusion. “Himeko, you’re the sweetest, most reliable person alive. How could I not be patient with you?”

She laughs quietly and cups your cheek. Her lidded eyes are full of affection as her thumb caresses your skin.

“You and your sweet words. It's hard not to believe them when you say them with such a sincere tone.”

“That’s because they’re true.”

Himeko brings you close with a hand on the back of your neck. Her lips meet yours in a tender kiss and your eyes shut in bliss at the feeling of her mouth moving against yours. She’s soft and warm and loving, keeping you in place until she’s had her fill and lets you lean back to catch your breath. You rest your foreheads together, noses brushing. Himeko’s hands travel up your body, from your hips to your waist and back down in steady touches, enjoying the feel of your curves. You plant gentle kisses on her jaw and almost feel her melt under you.

“You deserve every ounce of kindness…” your lips trail up to the apple of her cheek, “every show of appreciation…” you kiss her forehead then descend to the bridge of her nose; it scrunches up slightly with her growing smile, “and affection that comes your way.” You press another languid kiss to her lips.

Himeko’s gaze shows only adoration when you pull away to look at her, breathing a little heavier. Her lips are parted ever so slightly, her hands squeezing your waist. You swipe some hair out of her face as your palm rests on her cheek. Any fatigue you previously felt disappears at the sight of her under you like this, looking up at you with such admiration. It still feels a bit unreal, for someone so good to stare at you this way, it makes you believe that perhaps you too are deserving of others’ love.

You lean closer, the tip of your nose grazing hers, voice soft and eyes fluttering shut. “If you’re still in doubt, I could show you, if you’d like.”

Himeko’s smile turns teasing as your hand slips under her nightgown to slide up her knee. She pretends to think about it.

“Mmm… That depends on how you plan to do that.”

“Well, I have a few ideas… They all include you whimpering for me.”

Her chuckle makes you smile.

“Whimpering? You’re confident.”

“With reason, I assure you.”

Himeko welcomes your mouth on hers with enthusiasm, one of her hands curling around your nape. You’ve learned how to make her so dizzy with need that she’s entirely at your mercy, and it starts with the gentle swipe of your tongue over her bottom lip. Her lips part wider to deepen the kiss and you feel her fingers tighten their hold on your neck. Her tongue slides over yours, accustomed to your taste and still so breathless, while you rub her thigh. She hums low against your mouth as you try your best to adjust your position above her without breaking the kiss. Your thigh lodges itself between hers, feeling them clench once before relaxing into the bed.

Himeko is easy to please; loving touches up her torso to her chest makes her gasp softly, your tongue past her lips has her pulling you closer, and the slight pressure from your thigh between her legs is enough for her breathing to stutter. You kiss down her jaw to her neck and she tilts her head to make herself more accessible to your mouth. You know which spot makes her sigh in pleasure and which causes her to jerk her hips into your touch. You suck on her pulse point, humming at the fingers that tangle themselves in your hair at the gesture. The skin of her throat reddens and you lick it to soothe the pain before pulling away from her completely.

You sit up, gazing down at the flush of her cheeks and the rise of her chest. The square neckline of her nightgown gives you a tantalizing view of her cleavage. You bring a hand to touch the mole over her right breast, index finger massaging the flesh around it.

“So beautiful you are,” you say absentmindedly, pulling her clothes down with your free hand to watch how her breasts spill from their confines.

Himeko bites her lip in anticipation. The obvious desire in her gaze spurs you on, and you take handfuls of her heavy breasts to fondle them. The friction of your warm palms on her hardening nipples has her fingers sinking into the sheets. You twist a pink nipple between two fingers, delighting in the quiet moan that follows. Himeko’s breasts are so pliable, so plush, you can’t help lowering your mouth to one and sucking it like a pacifier. Her nipple puffs up under your wet tongue and you swallow a sound of pleasure at the feeling. Your teeth graze the soft skin of her breasts and leave faint marks across her chest everywhere they go. Her breasts shine with a thin coat of saliva when you finally separate yourself from them, and Himeko’s audibly breathing through her mouth, fingers curling around your locks. Her hips seek friction for her pussy by pressing into your thigh, but it’s not enough to relieve the need between her legs. Her nightgown has risen up to the top of her thighs, barely hiding her damp panties from sight.

You take in your work of art on her chest, the glisten of her puffy nipples and the shades of red on her skin slowly shifting into gorgeous blues and purples. Your thumb circles her sensitive bud as you watch Himeko’s brows quiver in pleasure. She won’t beg you for more, yet, even if what she needs is spelled out on her face.

You hook your fingers under the thin strap of her gown and let it snap against her skin as you let go. “Take it off, princess.”

Satisfaction swirls in your gut when she complies, sliding her arms out of the straps and pulling the material down her waist. You move to allow her to take it off completely and discard it somewhere on the bed, leaving her in nothing but her underwear. Your hands greedily travel up her thighs to her waist, squeezing the soft curves of her love handles along the way. Tiny moles decorate her body from her chest to her inner thigh like final touches on a meticulously painted artwork. Blood runs hot under her skin, adding a little color to the painting that she is. She’s stunning, and she’s yours.

You settle between her legs and prop her knees up to spread her thighs. Himeko grips your hair once more, her favorite, as you knead the flesh of her inner thighs.

“Seriously, Hime,” your eyes are glued to the damp patch on her cotton panties, arousal pooling in your belly, “the Knights of Beauty should be worshiping you.”

Himeko’s breathless laugh turns into a low moan when you use two fingers to rub her lower lips over her underwear, feeling her arousal ruin the material until it sticks to her pussy. You can see the outline of her labia under the fabric and you don’t even have it in you to tease her. Your index pulls her panties aside, revealing her glistening cunt and making you bite your bottom lip in lust. You lean forward to kiss around her labia. The smell of her arousal fills your sinuses and you feel desire tighten your stomach. Himeko urges you closer to her pussy with the hand in your hair, hips jerking towards your mouth. Your tongue darts out to lick her leisurely, slithering between her folds and ignoring her twitching clit. You moan into her cunt at the taste of her and Himeko lets out a noise close to a whimper, bucking into you to feel more of your tongue on her pussy.

You quickly tire of keeping her panties at bay, so you waste no time in sliding them down her legs and tossing them on the floor. Her cunt is entirely exposed to you, slick dripping between her ass cheeks. She’s so wet, her clit stands at the ready, waiting for you to wrap your lips around it and suck. You spread her lips with two fingers and lower your mouth to her pussy, licking up her slit like a thirsty kitty.

“Mmngh…” Himeko makes the sweetest noises above you, from breathy moans to quiet whimpers as you work her up, eyes shut in pleasure. Her free hand grabs a fistful of the sheets under her. “Ah… Nnh…”

You tease her entrance with a finger, not quite sliding inside. Your tongue swirls around her aching clit, from base to tip, and you’re rewarded by a poorly restrained moan from your pretty girlfriend. Himeko’s thighs twitch as you lap her up but she finds the strength to keep them spread for you, instead gripping your hair a bit tighter to pull you towards her cunt. A finger tentatively pushes into her pussy to the knuckle and her hips stutter in their steady rocking at the welcomed intrusion. She gets used to the sensation quickly, brows twitching, and you curl the digit to hit a specific spot inside her, a drawn out moan escaping her.

“Nngh…” Himeko whimpers out your name, chest heaving, “m—more…”

You can’t refuse her when she sounds so fucking pretty. You harshly suck her clit, feeling it throb, and push another finger inside her clenching cunt. She squeezes your digits but takes them like a champ, allowing you to plunge deep into her to hit the spongy spot that makes her cry out. You look up at her as she grinds her pussy on the flat of your tongue, lost in pleasure. Her breasts move with every jerk of her hips, her lips are forever parted to let out soft mewls and her creamy skin glows under the lights from the sweat accumulating on her body. The wet sounds of your digits thrusting into her cunt are sinful, they fill the cabin along with Himeko’s barely contained moans. Her belly tightens with need, and she clenches around her fingers with another desperate whimper. You flick your tongue on her engorged clit a few times, drilling into her with a pace you know she likes, hard and fast. Slow, loving touches on her body will turn Himeko on like nothing else but when she gets like this, only thinking about her release, she needs it rough enough to push her over the edge. She meets your efforts halfway and grinds into you, swallowing your fingers further into her wet pussy.

You can tell how close she is by the pitch of her voice; it gets slightly higher with every passing minute you spend with your nose buried into her cunt.

“P–Please—” Himeko babbles, “Let me…”

You find it adorable how the last push she needs is often just the confirmation that she’s allowed to come.

“Come for me, princess.”

Himeko whines, squeezing your fingers tight as she gushes into your mouth. Her cum coats your lips and chin and you lap it up eagerly, moaning at the taste. You clean her up diligently while her thighs threaten to close around your head and her clit throbs with her orgasm. She comes on your tongue with a pretty noise of pleasure and you ease your fingers out of her fluttering pussy to keep her thighs pinned to the mattress. You lick up her slit once, twice, desperate to swallow more of her cum. Himeko inhales sharply when your tongue flicks over her sensitive clit. You know her body inside and out, and so you know that sucking her clit right after an orgasm will make her squirt like she is now, spurts of cum coating your face and her needy cries filling your ears. She makes a mess for you, ruining the sheets under her, until she can’t take it anymore and has to pull you away from her cunt by the hair so she can catch her breath.

You relent, swiping your tongue over your lips and looking up at her with a cocky smirk. Himeko struggles to regulate her breathing, chest heaving and limbs still twitching from the aftershocks. You hover over her to press a gentle kiss to her jaw.

“We really should relax this way more often.”

“You work yourself too hard.”

Your warm, muttered words send a shiver across the skin of Natasha’s nape and the sensation spreads down her back as would a chilling gust of wind, the kind that only appears during Belobog’s most forgiving winters. It leaves goosebumps in its wake that you chase away with the palm of your hands firmly pressing over her shoulder blades, tracing the protruding bones lower down her back before slowly bringing your hands to rest on her shoulders. You hear her soft sigh as you massage her skin and undo knots of long accumulated stress from her muscles. You’re sure her eyes are closed despite being unable to see her.

“I have to,” she replies, her voice just as low, like speaking any louder will disturb the quiet around you.

Your hands run down her arms at an unhurried pace. You love touching her, love the feel of her. It’s a beautiful thing, touch; the warmth of her merging with yours, the particular bumps and wrinkles and stretch marks unique to her can all be felt under your fingertips. You have discovered every crevice, every nook and cranny of her with only your hands. On nights like this one, when the pressure catches up to her, she’s pliable under your touch and all the more enchanting. You bury your nose where her neck meets her shoulder, inhale the scent of the perfumed soap she used in the bath an hour earlier and lace your fingers with hers when your hands end their trek on the sensitive surface of her wrists.

You feel her lean into you a little more when you speak, “One day soon, you’ll be able to take a break without the sky collapsing.”

It’s unfair, though you understand how much the Underworld needs Natasha. She stepped forward when no one else did and naturally took over the responsibility for its citizens’ wellbeing, she is without a doubt an integral part of the small society you built around the mines. She bears this burden with a humble heart and a tired smile. The pride you feel for her goes beyond the Underworld’s dark ceilings, maybe even beyond the white clouds she sometimes tells you about when you question her about the surface. She is a diamond amongst pebbles, wasting her time on even the most worthless of you because she believes that everyone deserves a fighting chance. Her selflessness knows no bounds, and you feel sad. The bags under her eyes get darker every morning. Sleep claims her the minute her pretty hair touches the pillows. You wish she would allow herself some reprieve but Natasha has no self-serving bone in her body. She can’t be selfish, so you have to, lest she gets buried under unreasonable demands and complaints. With the appointment of a new Supreme Guardian, however, and the channels between the two worlds open once again, things are looking brighter. The fragmentum has stopped spreading and for once, you see a glint of hope in the gazes of the Underworlders. The Supreme Guardian’s plans for a painless future lift some of that persistent weight off Natasha’s shoulders. You’re grateful for it.

“I think part of me won’t know what to do when the time does come,” Natasha admits. She brings your arms tighter around her frame and sighs. “I can’t imagine not being needed…”

“People will always need you. You just won’t have the pressure to uphold half a city from the brink of disaster. You deserve that.”

She doesn’t reply to that. You free one hand and lift your head, then delicately grab a hold of her jaw to tilt her face towards yours. Her eyes blink open and you see the fatigue incrusted into their rubied depths.

“You deserve that,” you repeat firmly, watching as her gaze grows softer. “You of all people deserve to be free of anxiety and responsibility. I’ll make you see it one day, too.” Your thumb trails up her chin to her bottom lip. “Until then, I’ll take care of you when you won’t.”

Her lip twitches and her eyelashes flutter, taken with sudden emotion, before she simply leans closer and captures your mouth with hers, an unsaid “thank you” dying in her throat. The hand still intertwined with yours squeezes gently as she kisses you. It keeps you grounded to her presence in your arms and her touch on your body. You taste her chapstick on your tongue when she opens her mouth further to deepen the kiss. It’s the same she wears every day but it’s no less intoxicating.

“Nat…” you murmur against her lips, “I want to help you relax, if only for tonight.”

You hear her intake of breath as you plant open kisses up and down her jaw, following invisible patterns of affection on her skin like carefully woven threads. Natasha nods softly when your lips reach hers once more and the happy smile that grows on your face fills her with warmth even the bulkiest coats couldn’t provide.

She lets you adjust yourself behind her. You guide her to lean back so your chest is flushed against her and her breath tickles your neck.

Your hands brush the sides of her chest over her shirt and curl to hold her breasts properly. Natasha sucks in a breath when you squeeze them a little; you know she’s always been sensitive there, how pleasant it is for her. You palm her flesh, enjoying the softness of it beneath your hands and its quickly hardening tips. Your thumb swipes over one nipple and feels it grow from the sensation. You give the other the same attention and it’s not long before your pointer fingers join the fun to gently pinch the doctor’s nipples. Natasha shifts slightly, bringing one leg up to squeeze her thighs together, and you almost huff out a laugh at the action. You can feel the embarrassment radiating off of her at how easily aroused she’s getting, so you decide not to tease her too much. Verbally, at least, because your hands aren’t leaving her breasts until her underwear is well and truly ruined.

A muffled noise of pleasure escapes Natasha when you twist her nipples just right between two fingers. Her lips are parted and her breathing has gotten heavier. She grabs your thigh with a hand to compose herself somewhat. Though her face is obscured from your sight, you know her eyes are squeezed shut as she allows herself to enjoy your attention.

“Ah…” She breathes out as you finally slip your hands under her shirt and caress the plane of her stomach. Goosebumps follow wherever your touch strays.

Her nipples are like pretty pebbles on her chest, a rosy color you can’t yet see. They’re hard and sensitive judging by the way Natasha squeezes her legs together every so often, and you can’t help the fondness you feel at her compliance. She’s aroused and ready for you to go further, but she takes what you give without complaint or plea. It makes you want to give her everything she needs, patience be damned. You bite your lip at the thought. Tonight is all about Natasha’s pleasure, after all.

Keeping one hand around her breast, you trail the other down her torso until it reaches the edge of her pajama pants. Her thighs spread almost immediately to accommodate you and you coo softly at the sight, breathing out a chuckle when you feel Natasha press further into your neck out of embarrassment.

“Don’t worry,” you say, slipping into her pants to brush her underwear, “I’ll take good care of you.”

“…I know,” she replies, voice soft.

The trust she willingly puts in you is heartwarming, it expands your chest cavity to make place for your inflating heart. You explore her covered sex with two fingers and feel the arousal seeping from the thin cloth. She always gets so wet from nipple stimulation… Cute. Natasha moans when you spread her lips and apply pressure to her clit. You long to feel it twitch under your tongue, but you’ve teased her enough for now. Your hand slithers past her panties to finally give her what she wants. Natasha’s moans are breathy “oh”’s and “ah”’s that she no longer tries to conceal. Your fingers smear her arousal all over her cunt before paying special attention to her puffy clit. Sensitive as it feels, you enjoy the way her thighs twitch as you massage its base while pinching her nipple. The added stimulation coats your hand in warm, sticky fluids.

“Ah! Please…” Natasha mutters with a swallow, grip tightening on your thigh.

You shush her nicely, swiping the pad of your index finger over her clit in firm circles. “I know, Nat. Just relax.”

You imagine her brows twisting in pleasure and her pretty lips trembling. Her chest heaves with uncontrolled breaths and you have half a mind to yank her shirt over her head so you can see her perky nipples rise and fall with the flow.

You give her clit some reprieve and ignore the immediate little whine of indignation that follows. She’s so wet as you trail down her cunt to her entrance that you decide to push two fingers inside her instead of one. You feel her cunt clench around your digits and bite back a groan as you rub her walls. Natasha moans your name, voice breaking in the middle, and her toes curl when you pick up the pace inside her. She’s a vocal mess despite not uttering any actual words. Her panting against your neck is so arousing you only plunge your fingers harder into her.

You twist and pull her nipple with your other hand. Natasha somehow restrains herself from squirming under your touch to make your job easier and you make a mental note of rewarding her for her consideration.

“Just like that,” you encourage her, her cunt squeezing you like a vice. “I’ve got you.”

Your only response is a small whine and the bucking of her hips against your hand. They move in tandem with the rhythm of your fingers, greedily chasing release.

“You’re doing so good, Natty, letting me help you like this…”

Your words make her cunt clench. The noises filling your bedroom are positively filthy as the heel of your palm grazes Natasha’s sensitive clit. She’s close, you can feel it, so you keep up the pace until she comes with a cry into your neck, teeth brushing your skin and hips stuttering. You slow down inside her only slightly to help prolong her orgasm and one of her hands grabs yours on her breast when she arches towards the ceiling. It takes a moment before Natasha settles back against you, breathy and slack. You gently slip out of her.

You let her catch her breath, instead bringing your hand to light to see how her arousal clings to your digits. Spreading them makes a string that connects the two and you hum before turning back to Natasha. You push her forward a little, enough to be able to capture her mouth in a sloppy kiss. Your tongue pushes past her lips to intertwine with hers.

Natasha pulls away to rest her forehead on yours.

“Thank you…” she says softly.

“You’re welcome. But I’m not done with you yet.”

She leans back to look you in the eyes and her incredulous expression makes you laugh.

“You’ve done more than enough. Let me at least—”

“Nuh uh,” you interrupt her, moving from behind her to saddle her waist. She makes a noise of surprise when you push her fully into the bed.

You steal a kiss from her as your hands travel up her torso to raise her shirt over head and toss it to the floor. Leaning back, you can finally appreciate the sight of her bare chest rising to meet you. You take a pink nipple into your mouth, humming in satisfaction when Natasha lets out a little moan. Her hands grip your hair to keep you close. Your tongue swirls around the hardened bud, coating it so it shines in the light when you pull away. You waste no time in sucking the other one, hard and fast, enjoying the feel of it in your mouth and Natasha’s growing pleasure.

Your own lips shine with saliva when you tear your mouth from her chest and look up at her in reverence.

“You’re so pretty, Nat,” her lidded gaze meets yours as you speak, blood rushing to her cheeks. “I wanna fuck you until you can’t walk.”

“Oh…” is all she can say, bringing one hand to partly cover her flushing face.

“But,” you move to take off her pajama pants completely before settling between her thighs and wrapping your arms around them, “I said I’d help you relax, not incapacitate you… I’ll choose my words more carefully next time.”

Her heel digs into your back when you bury your nose in her slick cunt. She’s intoxicating and still so sensitive from her previous orgasm that you only need to blow on her clit for it to twitch. Your tongue darts out to taste her fully, the flat of it licking up her slit to take her pulsing clit into your mouth. Natasha’s hips push against you even as her thighs shake from the stimulation and the hand in your hair pulls you closer to her slippery sex. All you can hear, feel, taste is her. The noises she makes are a melody to your ears and the warmth that overcomes you can’t be put into words. You trail wet kisses all over her cunt, groaning at the way it pulses under you.

You focus on her clit, sucking and licking and teasing until her thighs close in on you, pressing against your ears.

“F-Fuck…”

Natasha rarely swears. Knowing how much of a mess you’re making of her for her to utter such a word is such a turn on. You squeeze your legs together in a failed attempt at relieving the pressure between them. You want tonight to be all about her, so you ignore your needs and slurp her folds like a starved kitten. The tip of your nose bumps her clit as you do and Natasha’s soft mewls spur you on.

It doesn’t take long before she’s coming into your mouth with a long moan, hips bucking closer to your tongue. You lap up the arousal leaking from her puffy cunt and let her grind into your face until her orgasm passes. Natasha falls back into the bed after a moment, audibly panting, eyes still squeezed shut. You look up to see her features slowly morph into a tired, fucked out expression. Pulling away from her sex, you lick your lips and wipe your face with your clean hand.

You climb up the bed to press a tender kiss to her jaw. Her eyes blink open, her gaze warm and in love as she looks at you.

You cup her cheek with a hand and mutter, “I hate to ask more of you, but promise me you’ll make an effort to take better care of yourself. For me?”

Natasha sighs, lips stretching into a small smile. “If I can’t, you’ll be there to do it for me?”

“Of course. Anything for you.”

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #himeko murata #hsr himeko #himeko x reader #sub!hsr #himeko x you #hsr natasha x reader #hsr natasha #hsr natasha x you #hsr smut #hsr x you

[listentoace]

Ruin your life for Gluttony

It's time to make a few things clear. I'm not just here to make you horny. I'm here to fuck you up so much that you'll very soon be wheezing 24/7 as you try carrying your deep hanging gut into the kitchen to get your fat fingers on more snacks. So you better pay attention to what I want you to do.

If you are delusional enough to still have a gym membership because "I'm just experimenting and will lose it again", cancel it now. I'm not kidding. Cancel your fucking gym membership! That money is better spent on snacks and when was the last time you went there anyways? Cancel it. You will be living a sedentary lifestyle from now on. Keep everything you need at arms length, make yourself as comfortable as possible, sleep in, masturbate a lot and stuff yourself all day long.

You'll be exclusively eating greasy, sugary food from now on, loaded with fat and carbs. You'll have absolutely no greens. The only way you'll have some vegetables will be the salad on your burger. Buy your snacks in bulk, look for jumbo boxes of snacks that will keep you occupied for a few days. Consume as much sugar as you possibly can. Really fuck up your appetite and insulin with all that sugar you'll be stuffing down that greedy throat of yours. And don't forget the heavy cream! I only want you to be eating and drinking stuff that is bad for you

Objectify yourself. You had your chance to be human, yet you chose to be a pig. Things such as human rights, respect, moral, privacy, etc. no longer apply to you. Show off your fat, growing body from every angle possible. Make a fat fucktoy and whore of yourself as you'll be depending on people to encourage and feed you even fatter. Fulfill every request sent to you, stuff yourself whenever someone tells you to. Do as you're told. You no longer have free will. Let yourself be used. Being used means that you're desirable and that's what you want, isn't it, piggy?

Wreck your brain. Play games, watch mind-numbing TV shows and do absolutely anything you can to keep your mind occupied. I want you to dumb down so much that your brain activity doesn't differ much from when you're asleep. Whenever you catch yourself thinking about anything but how fat you've gotten or how you want to eat more food, stop thinking. All that matters is food, worthless and endless content to consume, cumming over and over again and just letting your brain rot away.

Screw your limits. You don't wanna grow immobile? Sucks to be you. You'll keep getting fatter until I'm satisfied. You're my pig now and you better keep putting on those pounds or I'll have to force you. I don't care about all the issues that arise, your heart racing, your arteries clogging up from all the grease, you always being short on breath, another pair of jeans you're ripping right through before you've even worn them 3 times. I don't fucking care. All I care about is seeing that number on the scale go up. If you cannot do something as simple as stuffing your fat face, you're of no use to me.

Enjoy the last few years you've got. Soon you'll be fully immobile. You'll be one of the girls you've seen pictures or videos of, watching them struggle move their 800lbs body around, while their feeder still funnels them with heavy cream shakes. You'll be just like them and just like them your health will decline rapidly until you're fully immobile with an oxygen tube in your nose and a feeding tube in your mouth. But I won't be satisfied until I fuck your fat, buried pussy one last time until you flat-line during orgasm because your body just can't handle it anymore. That's when both you and I will finally experience true satisfaction.

And yes, while all this sounds so very extreme and surreal to think about, it strangely turns you on more than other, softer posts. The fantasy of actually becoming that fat is so frightening, yet so strangely appealing. Almost as if you deeply desire just that. Why don't you stuff yourself while imagining how you'd be a fat, 800lb immobile blob? I bet that orgasm would feel sooo good. Go ahead, do it. Grab some food, start masturbating and cum while you think about how fucking fat I'll be making you! Good girl ~

#weight gain encouragement #smut #feedee encouragement #fat encouragement #death feederism