#I think the other was a tournament too but I can’t remember but I do remember having a second silver medal 😒

[stopfunkinwmyheart]

It’s cool to think there are wrestling stat guy stans like how there is with baseball

[azsazz]

Sprinkles of Luck & Doubt

Hockey!Azriel x Ice Skater!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Do you think hockey!Azriel would sneak into the girls locker room/showers just to see figure skating reader? 👀

Warnings: Light sexual themes, angst

Word Count: 1752

Other Fics in the Hockey!Az AU: Penance, Shut Out, Out of Order, All's Well That Ends Well, Brr-eakdown Shots & Spins

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“What the—”

Your shriek is abruptly cut off when a palm lies flat across your mouth. Your heart hammers into your chest as you react, hands clamping down on the thick forearm that feels nothing like a woman’s, which is concerning considering you’re standing in the middle of the shower, soaking wet, in the women’s locker room.

“Easy, sweetheart,” a voice you know all too well purrs in your ear. You go lax against the body behind you, shutting your eyes and trying to regain some semblance of a normal heart rate when his hand slips away from your mouth. He plants it on your hip, and his touch alone only sets your heart into a stampede again.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper, mustering up the strength to scold Azriel when you turn to face him instead of sidling right up into his side and giving into every ounce of pleasure that him sneaking into the women’s showers with you brings.

“I needed to say goodbye to you before we leave for Briarwood,” he answers, and the way that he said he needs to say goodbye is not lost on you. It makes your stomach twist and your heart beat happily in your chest, your cunt perking up at the words.

“And that couldn’t have waited until I got out of the shower?”

His hazel eyes peruse your body in a slow trail, drinking you in like you’re his prey. His pupils dilate with arousal, and Azriel shifts on his feet as his cock begins to fill. If he doesn’t stop looking, he’s going to have the worst case of blue balls on the bus, and his teammates might not pick up on why he’s being so stiff since he’s normally a silent, brooding guy before big games, but he knows that Cassian and Rhys will clock him the second he steps foot onto the bus.

“Couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see you in my favorite outfit of yours,” he smirks, trailing the tips of his fingers up your sides. You shiver, near violently, clenching your thighs together when his thumbs brush over your nipples.

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensations zipping up your spine. You lean into Azriel, fingers fisting into his black t-shirt, uncaring that you’re getting his clothes all wet. He doesn’t care either, especially when he bends down into the onslaught of water to capture your lips against his own.

“You’re all wet,” you protest when you finally part, blushing red hot when he winks at you.

“Can’t be as wet as you, sweetheart,” Azriel jokes, but his cock is rock fucking hard. This was a terrible idea, in theory, to sneak into the women’s locker room and even more so to slip into the shower with you when he has only minutes before the bus leaves. But he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t not see you one more time before the tournament this weekend. He needed a kiss from his good luck charm. Needs much more than that, if he’s being honest with himself, but he doesn’t have the time.

“Ha ha,” you laugh drily, flicking water at him. “Just remember that while I’m here under the warm water with it’s perfect pressure,” you tease, fluttering your lashes at him when his eyes grow dark. To frustrate Azriel further, you slide your hands down your body, following the water cascading across your skin, right between your thighs. Azriel follows the movement with a wild look in his eyes that makes you want to back away, make you want him to chase you, touch you until you can’t stand, can’t see straight. The muscles of your legs twitch in agreement. “And you’re sitting on the bus with your hands in your lap, wishing you were between my legs instead of in your hand.”

Azriel growls softly and it goes straight to your core. It takes all your effort to turn away from him and plant yourself fully under the spray, slicking your hair back and shimmying your hips for affect.

“You are so getting punished when I get back, sweetheart.”

“What?” You whirl around, completely unprepared for him to be only inches away. You gasp and lose your footing, but Azriel’s already wrapping an arm around your waist and hauling you into his body. His cock strains against his pants, and the jeans he’s wearing only increase the sensations of his body against yours, rubbing across your sensitive, flushed skin. “You’re the one that started this mess, I should be punishing you!”

His hazel eyes glow at the prospect, a challenge. He dips his chin, his words fanning across your lips as he speaks. “Do you want to punish me, sweetheart?”

No, you want to drop to the tiles and suck him down your throat, no matter how much your knee might protest. You want to see his cock, touch it, taste it, feel it, but you know he won’t let you. Not right now.

It’s going to be a long and lonely weekend without Azriel here. And now that you’ve seen his cock, had the immense pleasure of having it inside of you, you know that the sad vibrator in your bedside table back at the dorms will in no way compare to the man with his arms wrapped around you.

On the other hand, you could see yourself stripping him bare, climbing over his lap and teasing his cock with your soaked cunt in punishment for the teasing. With him gone all weekend, there will be ample time for thinking up ways to tease him until he’s begging for you. You think you’d like to see that, Azriel whimpering and pleading for you to ride his cock. It would be a nice change from you always being the one worked up until there are tears in your eyes.

“Earth to sweetheart,” Azriel’s gruff voice draws you back to the present. You didn’t even realize you were grinding up against him, your breaths sharp and quick until you remember where you are, who you’re with, and what you’re doing.

You blink, feeling your chest flush when you meet Azriel’s gaze. His eyes are heady with lust, mouth set in a firm line because he’s trying to hold back the grunts and groans that threaten to slip form his throat. He doesn’t want to get caught, no matter how much he likes how you’re dry humping him.

Maybe he can sneak you with. Surely, coach won’t notice an extra body on the bus. Of course, that’s a lie. Nothing gets passed him. But maybe Azriel can convince you to drive down, and he can sneak you into his room for a little pre-game good luck romp in his bed. Yes, that might work. If he can get Rhys and Cass to leave him alone in the room for more than thirty minutes.

“Sorry,” you respond softly, trying to pry yourself away from him. You’re embarrassed that you lost yourself in a daydream right in front of Azriel and wanted more, but his hands are gripping you tighter, squeezing you closely to his chest.

“Look at me,” Azriel demands when you refuse to meet his gaze. You’re hot with embarrassment, and the water pouring down your back isn’t helping. Your name is a soft-spoken warning on his tongue, like if you don’t look up, you’ll be the one that’s getting punished instead.

You can get on board with that, but realization strikes as loud as the giggling of girls on the other side of the curtain does. You’re in the women’s locker room with a boy who’s not supposed to be in here, and he’s supposed to be on a bus leaving for the beach town on the coast to defend their undefeated season against the Sparrows.

You peek up at Azriel, melting under his tender gaze. Your heart pounds hard in your chest, so much to the point that it hurts. How he’s so easily able to calm you, to make you feel better with a single glance, probably means that you’re in way too deep with him. You should’ve been more cautious.

“Don’t be sorry,” he continues, his thumb stroking a soothing pattern across your hip. It lights you on fire, that touch, leaves you craving more. Azriel’s grin is crooked. “I like it when you want me.”

“I want you all the time,” you breathe like some panting girl. Why can’t you stop admitting things like this around him? You’re going to scare him off.

His eyes glitter, and at least you can take relief in the fact that he wants you back, might just want you like you want him.

“I want you all of the time too,” he says against your mouth, because he’s barely grasping onto his self-control by a thread. He kissed you like you’re the missing piece of him, and you allow yourself to fall into it too, brushing your tongue against his. Everything goes out the window when he’s with you; schooling, hockey, everything. There’s a twist in his stomach at the thought of that, that he shouldn’t be putting all his eggs in one basket with you, shouldn’t be letting you distract him like this when there’s so much pressure on his shoulders this year…

You feel it in the way his body locks. It’s quick, but it’s there, and the clapping of flip-flops on the wet tile stomping into the shower beside yours is the perfect excuse for him to pull away.

You don’t know why, but the way he avoids your gaze has you shrinking back under the spray and covering your body with your hands. You don’t know what just happened, to make Azriel go from doting and attentive to closed off and dare you say shy within a nanosecond. It couldn’t have been your admission, because he responded just the same.

You don’t get the chance to find out because he’s peering at you from under his thick, dark lashes, offering you a soft, sad smile, and parting with a quiet goodbye that feels more like a breakup than a see you next week.

“I’ll be seeing you, sweetheart…” He trails off, and it feels like a lie, even more so when he slips past the curtain of your shower without a look back.

It’s funny, that you can trick yourself into thinking you’re not crying when your tears mix with the water from the shower head that’s long gone cold.

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Azriel Hockey!AU Tags:

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks @bloodicka @whyshouldihaveanam3 @elle4404 @cherry-cin @quinzzelx @i-am-infinite @feeriqueivre @blightyblinders @kennedy-brooke @nyxbranwenn @dee-writes-smut @konaanaria13

[martinmuhl]

⋆✧˚ ༘ prove it (part 1)

pair: paige bueckers x reader

warnings: cussing, tension .. that’s it lol

summary: notorious player paige wants to take the star volleyball player out on a date

authors note: hey yall i’m actually really proud of this one!! it’s gonna be a series so i hope you enjoy it hehe

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

you were ecstatic. your team had just upset creighton in the big east volleyball conference championship. you were a standout transfer looking to be closer to family in connecticut, but also had hopes of turning the volleyball program around. these hopes obviously turned out to be successful because of this victory. your team had earned their bid to the championship tournament.

of course your teammates wanted to celebrate after this huge win, so they headed to your favorite local bar. feeling sentimental and high on adrenaline though, you wanted to stay back for a bit after the game was over. you sat alone in the front row of the stands, just thinking and taking in what had happened. you hadn’t heard the gym doors open, but a few seconds later, you heard the dribbling of a ball from across the court.

tall, built, blonde slick back bun. paige bueckers. the women’s basketball star in all her glory. just like everybody else, you thought she was insanely attractive. you had never talked to her though, she was a notorious player and probably didn’t even know who you were. sighing because your alone time was over, you got up to head to the bar.

“hey, y/n.” you heard a voice call out. turning around, it was paige, ball in hand looking straight at you.

“oh uh hi.” you replied, shocked. you couldn’t believe she knew who you were, even if you were the star of the volleyball team.

“im paige… uh i just wanted to say that you played a great game tonight. you’re really good, i was like mesmerized.” she laughed, stepping closer to you. she stood in front of you now. this was the closest you had been to her, and wow was she just as beautiful up close.

“i know who you are, paige. and thank you, i can’t believe we just won that. im surprised you’re here though, i figured you’d be at the bar celebrating.” you replied. a small blush crept onto your cheeks, but immediately went away, remembering her persona.

“i could say the same for you. i was there though, but it wasn’t my vibe.” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

“the bar wasn’t your vibe? what does that even mean?” you laughed. if your team was there, it most definitely was her vibe.

she looked taken aback, cocking her head. “it means that i went there looking for the star of the volleyball team, and she wasn’t there. it means i asked around and your teammates said you were here. it means i came here deliberately hoping to run into you to ask you out.”

you were definitely flattered and you could feel your face get hot, but really? you knew exactly who she was and paige bueckers fucked. she certainly did not date. “really paige? do you remember how many of my teammates you’ve slept with? you’re not a relationship type of girl and we both know that. if you came here in hopes of fucking me, you’re out of luck.” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“y/n look, i know what my reputation is and how my past makes me look, but that’s not who i am anymore. i genuinely came here to ask you on a date. i’ve come to all of your games and ive just been too afraid to ask you before.” paige frowns, actually looking hurt by your words.

“paige, you slept with my teammate three months ago. i’m really not that convinced that you want me for the right reasons. flattered yes, but convinced no. i can’t trust that you’re not the same old player everyone knows you to be.” you say, feeling a bit bad for her, but also wanting to protect your heart. maybe she really was trying to change, but how could you be sure?

“what can i do to show you that you can trust me?” she asks, anxiously switching the ball from one hand to the other.

“one month.” you say. paige cocks her head waiting for you to finish. “one month of no sex and no other girls. if i hear that you’re sleeping around or talking to anybody else, no date. and trust me, i will hear about it. if you can go one month without that, i’ll go out with you.”

“oh bet. one month? that’s easy. i’ve been doing it for the past two anyways.” she replies, a huge smile forming on her face. you can’t help but blush, hoping she really can do it.

realizing you’ve missed so much of your teammates bar celebration already, you turn to leave. “one month. prove it, bueckers.” you walk out of the gym toward the bar. what the hell just happened?

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ok but what if I had to continue this story about Knight!Ghost and Presumptuous maiden!reader

She can still feel his breath on her, but the huge body pinning her to the wall ceases to move.

"...What?"

It’s pure shock.

She’s dropped so quickly she has to take support from the stones behind her.

She wouldn’t have to: Simon grabs her by the arm and prevents her from falling forward and back towards that plated chest. His eyes search for hers, and she looks up at the knight who almost raped her – in the corridor of all places like she’s nothing but a common whore. But for the first time ever there’s genuine shock, even fear in his stare. The remnants of lust flicker back alive every now and then, but mostly he looks like she just hurled a powerful curse at him when she told him she’s a virgin.

"I'm sorry,” she tries. “I’ll–I’ll never do it again. I promise."

"Bloody fucking…"

He looks her up and down, the leather straps of his armour wailing from his still heaving chest. She should bolt, now, when Simon has taken a step away from her and is clearly puzzled and confused. But she can’t: those eyes rise to hold her captive again. And now, there’s anger in them.

"You should be whipped."

"For what...?"

Her chest is heaving, too. She never knew how low her voice could get when there's want in the air and in her veins.

"You attacked me, sir. I should have you whipped," she continues like an absolute fool.

"Don't test me, girl," he slurs behind bared teeth. She finally remembers how to shut up.

"Tsk."

Simon nudges his head towards the stairway leading to her quarters. Get out while you can, the gesture says, and she gathers the hem of her heavy woollen dress and flees.

She never believed her miserable begging would stop or sway him. Simon is bound by oath and honour, or then he doesn’t want his master’s wrath upon him. Her worth is between her legs; they both know it. Defiling the king’s daughter could lose him his head.

She climbs the stairs, slips into her room and bolts the door. It should probably be strange that she’s left aching by what just happened. It should make her wake up from her silly dreams, that the only thing stopping this man from raping her is other men, not her feelings and sensibilities.

It should be considered a doom, not fate, that she only wants him more.

…

Simon never participates in the tournaments, but this time, rumour has it that he’s planning to join.

In a distressed hurry, she makes preparations for the great day. There can be no other reason for him to joust other than the wish to win her favour back. His actions speak louder than any words, and just for the sake of that, she has kept her promise. She walks the halls as if the knight called Simon never even existed. She won’t look his way even when he has his back turned on her. She only dreams about him when the moon is full and there are no more candles burning in her lonely room.

But it’s hard.

It’s difficult, and it’s a horrible fate she has to suffer, because now it’s he who can’t keep his eyes off her. Now it’s Simon who has suddenly caught her scent, who is suddenly interested in dangerous, stupid sports such as jousting that could injure or kill a man. But he’s willing to do the thing he apparently hates most – along with the fevered attention of insufferable, flirtatious maidens – because he needs a token of her favour. She’s sure of it: that’s why she embroiders a tiny ‘S’ on her finest, most precious handkerchief.

The tournament day is as beautiful as can be. Her heart is about to rend itself out of her chest when Simon approaches her, riding across the field in his heaviest grey armour. He’s surrendering himself at her mercy, and at the mercy of other people’s ridicule, rumour and gossip by making it known that he thinks himself worthy of her blessing. She wonders if she’s the one being played now: she can’t decipher why he would refuse her one day, then fight to gain her favour the next.

He accepts her silken handkerchief with a blank expression, but his eyes betray the inner turmoil when he sees the embroidery. A plain, simple token would have sufficed – the adorned ‘S’ is a bit too much, it's a clear sign. It’s ten times more clear than her earlier games, ten times more blaring than her vivacious little flirt. She could've embroidered the sentence “If you come up to my room at nightfall, I will let you in,” on it and the meaning would've been just as obvious.

He tucks it under his breastplate and gives her a sideways look that is filled with both distaste and longing. Only Simon can speak entire sentences through his eyes. They say, “You’ve gone too far,” and “If I come out of this alive, you’ll get whipped, or fucked, or both.”

And one thing she never knew about Simon was that he could joust better than anyone. There’s one dead, three wounded and five humiliated by the time Simon is declared the winner of the tournament. Everyone understands now why he never joins these things: he will only rob the fun of other knights by toying with them.

Her chosen one accepts the king’s words and the crowd’s applause with a stern but slightly painful expression. Simon would rather be anywhere but here, but endures being the centre of attention for the rest of the afternoon like a good, patient dog. Then he disappears somewhere, done with being the sudden pet of the people. The next time she sees him is in the morning as she descends the stairs.

“Fawn.”

She flinches from the now familiar dark voice. He’s been waiting for her, and almost prowls forth from the shadows when she’s floating down the steps. There’s a good few feet between them, but she can feel the heat emanating from him. Simon is always blazing like the sun, and he's always tired, downright exhausted, encumbered by pain or something worse.

“Do you always forget your promises so quickly?”

She corrects her posture under his tall shadow; she should’ve known there would be consequences for that handkerchief.

"What crime have I committed now?"

Simon never expects it when she fights back. Long, pale lashes cover the brief bafflement in his eyes, then he reaches for something under his tunic. Her heart skips a beat – he has kept it against his skin, right over his heart, instead of under the plate where he tucked it at the joust.

"This belongs to you," he holds it between them like it’s nothing but a piece of dirty cotton he wants to get rid of. Or then he doesn’t want to stain it with his hands – who knows? This man is so full of contradictions she’s having a hard time getting to the bottom of his soul. She has all the time in the world to study different characters here in the castle, but Simon remains a tightly locked mystery.

"No,” she lifts her chin proudly. “It belongs to you."

His nostrils flare for a moment – a sign of anger or exhilaration; you’d need a powerful witch to tell.

“A knight should return the lady’s favour if he survives the joust,” he mutters, clearly trying to make an effort to speak finely to a fine lady.

“You don’t have to. I made it for you.”

He grunts with frustration, then shoves her gift back inside his tunic. Then he tilts his head. A strange, dark little smile rises on his lips.

"Fawn. Did your father ever beat you?"

It’s only morning, but Simon makes it feel like they’re having this conversation in the cold, damp dungeons. Her heart shudders at the foul words, and yet, she fights to maintain eye contact. She fights both tooth and nail to look straight into the abyss.

"No."

"I can tell."

Insolent bastard, is her first thought at such audacity, but two can play this game, is the second. She takes a slow step forward and rejoices silently when Simon struggles to remain still.

"If I was your wife…" she starts softly, "Would you beat me?"

His nostrils flare again as he looks for a trap where there is none. She’s standing before him without any shields, with no weapons, and he still can’t tell, the poor man.

"I don't beat women," he finally spits. Then he succumbs to the impulse to get away from her, although it looks like he’s struggling to do so, too. He has to wrench himself free, and it gives her more power to rise rooted: to meet his crude manners, the arrogance of a dog.

"You'd never be my wife," is the last thing he says, so quietly that it’s nothing but a mutter; a sullen whisper. The birds have fallen silent, or then she can’t hear them anymore. The golden light that pours from the narrow windows makes it suddenly seem like this morning could last an eternity.

"Why not?" She whispers back.

The moment shatters – her knight escapes like he’s the fragile little fawn now. The clatter of his armour makes it known how much of a hurry he’s in to get away from the golden light... And from her.

[reminiscingtonight]

Sisters Know Best

Ana-Maria Crnogorčević x Wälti!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I may or may not have forgotten the Olympics was a thing. Oops

[WOSO Masterlist]

Consciousness comes to you slowly. Eyes gently fluttering open, your smile is automatic at both the feel and sight of your favorite person wrapped around you.

Ana’s face is peaceful and relaxed as she still remains fast asleep, arms securely locking you against her body.

You’ve missed this. Being able to fall asleep and wake up to Ana is something you took for granted until suddenly you weren’t able to do so anymore.

Her departure from Barcelona was unexpected, for both you and her. None of your teammates knew it was coming as well. A relationship that blossomed during the last half of your one year overlap at Barcelona was suddenly subjected to the distance between your club teams. 

But the two of you made things work. Facetime dates were a regular occurrence, so were the trips to visit one another during short breaks of play. One and a half years after you began dating, your relationship is still going strong.

As much as you would have loved to stay trapped against Ana until she woke, eventually your bladder wins, urging you to find an escape to the bathroom. It takes a couple minutes, but eventually you wiggle your way to freedom without waking Ana. 

After relieving yourself, you’re halfway between the bathroom and your bedroom when you notice the jacket hanging from the hook by the front door. The jacket that very much was not present when you and Ana got to the house earlier in the day.

Eyes wide, you have to remind yourself to stay calm.

A year and a half into dating, you’re already certain Ana’s the love of your life. But that doesn’t negate the fact that you’ve known her nearly almost all of your life. And of course you had no one but Lia to thank for that fact.

Ana’s been your sister’s best friend for as long as you could remember.

And that would be cool, everything would be 100% fine. Except… maybe Lia’s still unaware of your relationship.

Initially, the two of you kept it under wraps, not wanting Lia’s unwanted opinions to potentially interfere with whatever was happening between the two of you. But then as time moved on, as you and Ana settled down into a smooth relationship, separated from your sister by both a country and the English Channel, you didn’t feel the rush to disclose your relationship to her.

The stress of the world cup last year allowed your relationship to remain undetected during the off-season. Lia didn’t have the time or brainpower to focus on anything other than keeping your national team together and functioning under the direction of your head coach who could barely string a coherent play together. 

But that was last year. And now, more than a year after you and Ana made things official, you still have not told Lia about your relationship. And with the beginning of this off-season, you’re about to spend the majority of two months together with no major tournaments to act as a distraction.

A part of you is really hoping you just missed the jacket when you arrived earlier, but the more logical side of your brain tells you you’re as fucked as you think you are.

Tip-toeing down the stairs, you pop your head around the corner into the kitchen.

Lia looks up from where she’s sat by the counter when you push the door open. You were already expecting to see her there, but you still can’t mask the surprise in your voice. “Lia? What are you-- You’re home!”

Your sister raises an amused eyebrow at the tone in your voice. “It’s great to see you too.”

Shaking yourself out of your shock, you lunge forward, letting Lia pull you into the comforts of her arms. “Missed you,” you grin, momentarily forgetting your girlfriend is fast asleep upstairs. 

Though the thought quickly returns when Lia gestures towards the front door, hidden behind the wall. “I noticed you got new shoes?”

Paling, you remember the way you had to bribe Ana with kisses to neatly place her shoes next to yours by the rack. 

“Yeah! I did a little bit of shopping in Barcelona before coming home,” is the first lie that passes through your mind, something you’re quick to voice.

“I can see that,” Lia chuckles, tugging at your unfamiliar but also so obviously worn down sweatshirt. It’s just your luck that you’re also wearing one of Ana’s sweatshirts right as this moment. You find yourself wanting to curse your girlfriend out. Dubbed Ana’s ‘favorite,’ this piece of clothing is your go-to for stealing. It just always smells like her and makes you feel safe, but safe is the last thing you feel as you are quick to nod again, lying that you did indeed get a new piece of clothing too.

The two of you chat about everything and nothing, making up for lost time. While you’re so obviously just trying to buy time as you try to come up with a way to either sneak Ana out of the house or come clean to Lia without facing her wrath, you come bask in the presence of your sister. You really have missed Lia.

After spending the majority of your career chasing Lia from club to club, you finally made your break away from her two seasons ago to Barcelona. Leaving Arsenal was hard, but you were ready for something new. And Lia was more than happy to support you.

Some time in between Lia praising how well the new Arsenal players have cemented their place on the team over the season and discussing which possible movie the two of you should go put on, Lia ducks under the cabinet to pull out the kettle, intent on making some tea. You use the brief moment of distraction to make your getaway.

“Oh shoot, I forgot my phone upstairs in my room. Do you mind waiting here for me while I quickly go get it?”

Lia chuckles, gesturing to stove. “Go for it. I won’t be joining you until our tea’s done.”

Your trainers at Barcelona would be proud of the speed to which you race out of the kitchen and then back up the stairs to your room.

To your delight, and horror, Ana’s already awake, sleepy smile sent your way when you shut the door behind you. 

“Hi baby--”

“Lia’s home,” you whisper, cutting Ana off.

The blonde’s eyes grow in size as she bolts upright in your bed.

“What do you mean? I thought you said she wouldn’t be back until…” Ana’s words trail off when she flips over her phone and sees the time.

The two of you definitely napped for longer than you originally intended to.

“You’ve got to go. Lia’s about to hunker me down with a movie marathon. God knows how long you’ll be stuck here if you don’t try sneaking out now.”

Ana blinks. “How exactly are you going to sneak me out then?” 

You point towards the window in your room. “I’ve snuck out of the house multiple times growing up. There’s a tree that you can climb out and get into the front yard from.”

Ana balks, looking at you as if you just grew three heads. “You want me to sneak out the window and climb down a tree?!”

You roll your eyes, pressing a sweet kiss against Ana’s panic-stricken face. “Don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe.”

Turning around, you head for your closest. After a bit of digging you finally pull out an old pair of tennis shoes.

“Here, wear these,” you whisper, shoving the shoes into Ana’s hands

Ana frowns, though she does as you say and slips on the offered shoes. “Why can’t I just wear mine?”

“Lia was asking me whose shoes they were and I said I got some new shoes in Barcelona.”

Ana shoots you a look that tells you she’s less than impressed with your white lie. “I better get those shoes back. They were expensive.”

You have to muffle your snort, both of you knowing very well the chances of you returning them would be close to 0. “I know, I was there when you bought them.”

Ana pinches your cheek for the sass, and you respond by giving her ass a little slap as she slips pass you towards the window.

Though she rolls her eyes, you can see the smile on her lips.

“If I break my neck before the international break I’m blaming you,” she mumbles, swinging her legs through the opening. 

“Such a sweet-talker,” you shoot back, ignoring her huff of faux-annoyance. Instead, you lean in to press a light kiss against Ana’s lips.

“Call me?”

You nod. “As soon as Lia lets me go.”

With one last grin over her shoulder Ana shuffles fully out the window onto the roof. You only wait until you see Ana begin her descent before hurrying back down the stairs towards Lia.

The brunette’s already sitting in the living room, movie pulled up when you come skidding to a stop next to her. To your relief it seems as if Lia’s been engrossed in her phone the whole time you’ve been gone. 

She looks up with a grin, lifting up a corner of her blanket for you. 

“I’m thinking we can start with The Sorcerer’s Stone and make our way down from there.”

It isn’t until the sun’s long set and the two of you have switched to watching cooking shows for the past two hours that Lia rises with a yawn. 

She pats your leg, stretching as she stands. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”

Sleepily nodding, you sink deeper into the blankets. “I’ll probably watch another episode or something before heading up,” you mumble, fully content with letting your sleepiness take over right here right now. Though your body would most likely hate you tomorrow when you wake, your bed on the second floor just seems so far away.

Lia doesn’t say anything else, giving you a gentle hum as she makes her way towards the light switch. Dimming the lights a bit, she watches with amusement as your eyes slowly flutter, trying, but failing, to keep yourself awake.

You’re two seconds from drifting off into a peaceful sleep when Lia speaks up, not having fully left the living room yet. Spoken over her shoulder almost as an afterthought, her parting words have you suddenly snapping wide awake. 

“Next time Ana comes over let her know she can use the front door to enter and leave like a normal person.”

---

Closing the door as quietly behind her as she can, Lia pops her head over the wall separating the front door from the living room.

Her face falls into a frown when she doesn’t see you anywhere on the first floor. 

You had texted your sister that you made it back to Switzerland only hours ago. Surely you haven’t already left the house without waiting to see her first?

Sighing, she toes off her shoes, not without noticing a new pair of shoes sitting by the shoe rack. You must have gone shopping or something, Lia muses before heading for the stairs.

There’s really only one other place you could possibly be if you were still in the house. Dropping her bag off in her room, Lia lightly skips towards your bedroom. It’s only been two months since you last saw each other in person, but you and Lia have always been extremely close, and paired with how her season ended, Lia just really wanted to see you.

Quietly cracking open your door, Lia pokes her head into your room.

The first thing she notices is how dark it is. The blinds in your room have been drawn, the only light filtering into the room being through the door she has opened.

It takes a couple seconds for Lia’s eyes to adjust, and when it finally does, she can’t stop her mouth from dropping open.

Well there you were, definitely not roaming the streets of your childhood town. But what she’s not expecting is the extremely familiar head of blonde hair tucked around you like a protective shield. 

The shock quickly turns to affection as Lia smiles to herself at the adorable sight of you and Ana cuddled together in your sleep. Pulling her phone out to snap a quick picture of the two of you deep in sleep, Lia quietly closes the door behind her as she sets her sights for the kitchen.

Her sister and best friend? Together? Totally unexpected but Lia couldn't be more than happy for the two of you.

And when you sleepily stumble into the kitchen nearly an hour later, panic crossing your face at the sight of Lia already home, well who can blame Lia for having a bit of fun at your expense?

Especially when it means she gets to see Ana ungracefully scale the tree outside your bedroom window.

[kendyzzlewp]

Creatures in Heaven||ART DONALDSON

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: you run into your old college sweetheart, art, in a hotel bar. old wounds resurface as you tried to make sense of it all.

tags: college sweethearts, angst, non graphic smut?, reconnecting, pain, sad!art, divorced!reader, tears

“I don’t think I realize just how much I miss you sometimes. We were young and so in love. We were just creatures in heaven.”

You’ve always loved hotel bars.

The dimly lit space, the chatter of the guests around you, the overpriced drinks. Sitting down on a stool at the hotel you frequent after a particularly hard day at work, you can’t help but let your mind drift off. The TV above you plays a recap of the latest tennis match. Your old friend shows up on the screen, brown head stuck to his forehead, a huge goofy victorious smile on his face.

You quickly pull up your phone, sending a congratulatory text to Patrick. Making plans to meet before he leaves town.

A glass of wine gets placed in front of you, the maroon liquid swirling slightly.

“Y/N?”

You could recognize that voice anywhere. Turning slightly in your stool, your eyes met surprised blue ones. The pounding of your heart could be heard from miles away. He looked older, fitter. His blonde hair was now shorter, a stark difference to his Stanford days.

“Art,” you whispered, placing your drink down with trembling hands. “Wow, it’s been so long.”

As your gaze meets Art's, memories flood back, and you're reminded of the countless conversations and shared moments in your college dorm. You could lie and say you haven’t been following his career but you weren’t kidding anyone but yourself. You watched every tournament, every match, cheered silently from your apartment as took the tennis world by storm.

As he sits down beside you, you can't help but feel a rush of emotions—nostalgia mixed with a tinge of sadness. The memories of your last encounter weigh heavily on your mind, the pain and heartache still fresh despite the passing years.

"I can't believe it's really you," Art says, breaking the silence. "I've thought about you so often, wondered how you were doing. You look great.”

You look into his eyes, seeing a mix of emotions mirrored back at you. There's regret, longing, and a hint of hope.

"I've thought about you too," you admit, a sad smile playing on your lips. "I watched your matches, saw your rise to the top. I'm so proud of you, Art.

"Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot to me." Art's expression softens, a bittersweet smile crossing his face. “Wouldn’t be where I am without your support.”

The air between you is heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. You both know there's much to discuss, but the weight of the past sits between you like a barrier.

“How’s Tashi?”

You had to ask. Patrick talked about them all the time. Even drunkenly confessing he had slept with Tashi in Atlanta when they bumped into each other for a tournament. You wonder if Art knew, you wonder if he hurt the way he hurt you.

“She’s Tashi,” he whispers, motioning the bartender for a drink. “Same as always.”

Art's response is cryptic, and you can sense the tension in his voice. You remember the pain of hearing about his relationship with Tashi, and it stirs up a mix of emotions within you.

"I heard about your marriage," you say softly, searching his eyes for any reaction. "I hope she makes you happy."

Art looks down at his drink, swirling the liquid around in his glass. His silver wedding band caught the bar’s overhead yellow light.

"It's complicated. Things are... not what they seem."

You nod silently, understanding how complicated a marriage like that could be. You think about your own failed relationship, how it was necessary for you to let your husband go because he couldn’t compare. He could never compare to the man sitting next to you.

“Are you married?” He asked, taking a sip of his whisky.

You hesitate for a moment, the weight of Art's question sinking in. It's a question that holds so much significance, one that forces you to confront your own feelings and past decisions.

"Divorced," you reply softly, meeting his gaze steadily.

There's a flicker of something in Art's eyes, a mix of surprise and curiosity. You wonder if he can sense the unspoken truth behind your words, the lingering emotions that still tie you to him despite the passage of time.

"I've had my share of relationships," you continue, your eyes fixed on the drink in front of you. "But they just… didn’t compare."

Art's gaze intensifies, his eyes searching yours for any hint of what you're feeling. The air between you crackles with tension, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the dimly lit space of the hotel bar.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he says softly, his voice tinged with regret. "But I'm glad you're here now."

You feel a rush of emotions at his words, the familiar warmth of his presence washing over you like a comforting embrace. Despite the years apart and the pain of the past, there's still a connection between you that refuses to fade. You were only really yourself around Art. The rest just got this fucked up, fake version of you.

“I heard you have a daughter,” you said, changing the subject. “How is she?”

A pang of sadness hits you as you see the light in his eyes at the mention of his daughter. You wished you were the one to give him a child, just like you planned together all those years ago. Laid up together in your small dorm bed, hand intertwined, whispering promises and dreams at three in the morning.

“Lily,” Art's expression softens even more at the mention of his daughter, a warm smile spreading across his face. "She's the light of my life."

You can't help but smile at the genuine love and pride in his voice. Despite the complexities of his marriage and the challenges he may face, it's clear that his daughter brings him immense joy and fulfillment.

"I'm so glad to hear that," you say sincerely, feeling a bittersweet tug at your heartstrings. "She's lucky to have a father like you."

Art's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, it feels as though the weight of the past and the uncertainties of the future fade away, leaving only the warmth of the connection between you.

"Thank you," he murmurs, his voice filled with emotion.

As you continue to talk about Lily, you can't help but feel a sense of warmth and nostalgia enveloping you. Despite the complexities of your past and the uncertainties of the future, there's a comfort in the shared memories and the genuine connection between you and Art.

As the conversation flows, you find yourself opening up more than you ever expected, sharing stories and laughter in the dimly lit space of the hotel bar. It's as if the years apart have melted away, leaving only the familiar ease and familiarity of your college days.

You look down at your phone, eyes widening at the time. “Wow,” you exclaimed. “It’s three am.”

Art chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Time really flies when you're lost in conversation, doesn't it?"

You nod, feeling a mixture of surprise and contentment at how quickly the hours have passed. Despite the late hour, you find yourself reluctant to leave the comfort of Art's company and the warm ambiance of the hotel bar.

"It's been so wonderful catching up with you," you say, a genuine smile tugging at your lips. "I've missed this."

Art's smile mirrors yours, his expression filled with warmth and sincerity. "Me too, Y/N. It's been far too long."

As you gather your things and prepare to leave, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected reunion and the chance to reconnect with Art after so many years apart. Despite the complexities of your past and the uncertainties of the future, you know that this moment will always hold a special place in your heart.

As you bid Art farewell and step out into the cool night air, you feel a sense of renewal and hope stirring within you. You start walking down the street, your heart bleeding from reopening old wounds you swore to never touch again.

“Wait!”

You turn around to see Art jogging to catch up to you. He slows down as he approaches you, panting slightly.

“Is everything okay?" you ask, a hint of concern in your voice.

Art looks at you, tears pooling in his eyes. "I know it’s too late, but I just don’t think you realize just how much I miss you sometimes.”

His voice trembles, and you can see the raw emotion in his eyes. He steps closer, his hands trembling slightly as he reaches out to take your hand.

“Y/N, it’s been almost ten years, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about you. I miss the way you laugh, the way you’d stay up with me all night just to help me study, the way you believed in me when no one else did. I miss us.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you listen to his heartfelt confession. His words hit you with the force of all the years you’ve spent apart, all the moments you’ve both lived without each other.

“Art…” you begin, but he shakes his head, needing to say more.

“I thought marrying Tashi was the right thing to do, but it never felt right because she wasn’t you. Every achievement, every milestone—it felt hollow because you weren’t there to share it with me. I’ve tried to move on, to live my life, but no one ever came close to making me feel the way you did. I still love you, Y/N. I never stopped. And seeing you tonight, it’s like all those feelings just came rushing back.”

You’re overwhelmed, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to process his words. You feel a mix of hope, fear, and an undeniable longing.

“Art,” you whisper, tears streaming down your cheeks. “We can’t.”

He takes a step closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. “I don’t know what the future holds, and I know we both have a lot of shit to deal with, but I can’t let you walk away again. I refuse.”

You look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and desperation in his gaze. Despite the years apart and the complications of your pasts, the connection between you is undeniable.

“I don’t know what the future holds either,” you admit, your voice shaking. “But I do know that I’ve never stopped loving you.”

Without another word, he leans forward and presses his lips against yours, the taste of whiskey and longing lingering in the air. In that fleeting moment, everything else fades away—the pain of the past, the uncertainties of the future—leaving only the warmth of the connection between you and Art.

You both pull back, foreheads pressed together, heavy panting as you both try to catch your breath. Your heartbeat resonating in your ears as you find his hand, interlocking your fingers.

“Take me home?” You asked, silently hoping he understood the underlying tone of your invitation.

Art nods, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I'd love to."

Together, you walk through the quiet streets, the only sound being the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. The world feels hushed and intimate, as if it's just the two of you in your own little bubble of time.

As you reach your apartment building, you turn to face Art, your heart pounding in your chest. The moment feels charged with emotion, a mix of longing and uncertainty swirling between you.

"Do you want to come in?," you say softly, searching his eyes for any hint of what he's feeling. "I think I have some wine…”

He leans in and kisses you again, his lips soft and warm against yours. In that moment, all doubts and fears melt away, leaving only the certainty of your feelings for each other. You opened the door to your apartment, still locked in the passionate kiss.

Art kicks the door closed, walking you further into the room. His hands getting reacquainted with your body, muscle memory kicking in as he lifts you.

“That way,” you mumble against his lips, motioning to a door in the back.

With a soft chuckle, Art carries you towards the direction you indicated, his lips never leaving yours. The heat of the moment ignites a fire within you both as you stumble towards the bedroom.

You want to savor each moment. You need to remember it in case it’s the last time. There’s no rush as your hands lift his shirt over his head, his pale skin glowing with the moonlight that streams from your window. You press a kiss to the scar on his shoulder, feeling goosebumps appear on his skin.

Art does the same, tenderly lifting your dress over your head. His fingers tracing stroking every inch of your skin as he lays you down on your bed.

The room is filled with the sound of your breath mingling with the soft hum of the city outside. In this intimate space, you find solace and connection in each other's arms, lost in a whirlwind of passion and longing.

As the night stretches on, you lose yourself in each other, exploring every inch of each other's bodies as if trying to memorize every detail. Time seems to stand still as you become lost in the moment, consumed by the intensity of your shared desire.

—

Hours later, as the first light of dawn filters through the curtains, you find yourselves tangled together in the sheets, your bodies still humming with the echoes of your passion. Clothes strewn around the floor of your bedroom. With a contented sigh, you bury your face in Art's chest, feeling a sense of peace and fulfillment wash over you.

As you lie there in the quiet stillness of the morning, you realize that this is where you belong—wrapped in Art's arms. He holds you as if you were made just for him, so tightly and close. Trying to bound the pieces of you he broke, together.

And as you drift off to sleep, you know that no matter what the future may hold, you will always belong to Art Donaldson.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Feelings (2)

Hi!

This is the second part of Feelings, I hope you will like it too :)

I'm taking things slow for now, but some other things would happens in the next chapter.

Feel free to let me think what you think about it.

And enjoy! ♥

TW : Mention of smut

PART 1 |

______________________________________________________________

The next day, when you woke up, you stay with your eyes closed. You remember perfectly what happened last night, but you are scared. Scared that it was a dream or that Alessia was in reality drunk and thought you take advantage of her. You would never do something like that obviously, you asked her several times yesterday if she was ok and if what you are doing is ok too. And asks for her consent before each new movement too.

And you know you are not dreaming; you have some aches that are particular of this kind of activities.

When you open your eyes, Alessia is still in your bed. Lying on her side, she’s looking at you. And you are straight in the light blue of her eyes, but you can’t determine what feelings are in it.

“Hi” you say softly.

“Hello” she answers only.

“Did you sleep well?”

She nods, before rolling on her back to rub her eyes. She putted her shirt back during the night, but that’s not what you realize. She seems a little strange this morning, like something is bothering her. Once again, you don’t expect everything from her, maybe it was just a one-time thing for her. So you get up from your bed, looking for your clothes too.

With a shirt, you fell better to have a difficult conversation. You sit on the bed right after, looking at Alessia. You can’t remember how many times you told her that she’s beautiful yesterday. But she is this morning too. You don’t say it anyway, only looking at her. She seems nervous and almost breathless when she finally talks.

“Look Y/N…”

She seems lost too and you already have understood. You raise your hand and she looks at you.

“It’s ok, Lessi. If you want to pretend that nothing ever happened… It’s ok.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to yesterday or even today. But I feel like this is maybe not the right time to start something like this. We are at the beginning of the World Cup and…”

“It’s ok” you repeat, cutting her again.

The bitterness that fills your mouth make you unable to offer her a real smile, the one you are making now must looks like a grimace to be honest. You don’t know what she understood about your feelings yesterday, and you don’t know if the way she looks really sorry helps you or not.

“I better go.”

You only nod, not being able to speak or even look at her when she takes her other clothes, all around the room on the floor. She kisses your cheek softly and left the room soon after. And you never feel so empty in your life.

********

Some days passed. You and your team played other games and managed to qualify for the next round of the tournament. You never talk to Alessia again after that morning and you can’t even just look at her. You told her that it was ok, and you really thought that you were going to be ok. One night with her was way more than what you ever expected.

But you were wrong. What’s happening to you right now is way more difficult to deal with than your breakup with Alma. People don’t come to talk to you, assuming that you were struggling with that. It was a good excuse.

You only talk about what happened to Maya and Sofia, a good friend you made in Spain. Maya met her several times when she came to Barcelona to see you. You even make some videos call the three of you, your friends trying to ease your mind.

“But she said basically that it wasn’t the right time. It means that maybe when the World Cup is ending…” was saying Sofia.

“There is no way that it’s happening, Sofia. She doesn’t even look at me.”

It would be stupid of yourself to still be hopeful about something like this. The only time you had eyes contact, she looks the other way so fast that her eyes must have burn.

“Maybe she regrets what happened between us” you sigh, pinching your nose.

“No, I know Less” Maya answers. “She would have told you if it was something like this. She doesn’t take things so easy, making a think to regret it the day after. She only had two boyfriends and sleeping around isn’t her thing.”

Maya knows Alessia well, they played together for years in Manchester United. You are a little jealous sometimes, but in another way, it would be harder to see her every day. You feel a little better hearing Maya and for one time you fall asleep without too much struggle.

Next morning, like every morning, you get for a walk on the beach after the breakfast. You ate with Georgia and Keira, who takes you under their wing, probably at Leah’s request. But they were still busy, and you don’t want to be a burden for them.

You were sitting on the beach you discovered at your first day here when you feel a presence behind you. Turning, you realize that it’s Lucy.

“You alright Kiddo?” she asks, and you answer with a smile. “Mind if I sit with you?”

“Nah, please do.”

Lucy sits and looks at the water in front of you when you resume your looking. Some peaceful minutes passed before Lucy talks.

“I know I’m not the most observant person in the world, but I see how much you struggle those days. You’re making a good job hiding it and I probably wouldn’t be able to realize it if I never passed by the same things.”

Curious, you look at Lucy. You were close with her, more than with Keira to be honest. You are the only three English at Barcelona, it helps to create a great bond.

“When Keira and I broke up…”

“Oh. No Luce, I stop you right there. It has nothing to do with my breakup with Alma.”

Lucy looks at you curiously too, her arms around her knees.

“What I wanted to say, it’s that maybe you can think it’s the end of your world. But life has sometimes something better looking for you. Look at my old ass, I still found something even better that what I had.”

“Ona?” you ask with a smirk.

You can’t help but laugh when you see the light red coloring Lucy’s cheeks.

“Lucy Bronze, are you blushing?”

“I’m trying to help you and you give it back to me by making fun of me?”

She looks disappointed but you know that she is only joking. You laugh softly and decide to tease her a little bit.

“Ok, when do you present her to me then if she’s so perfect? I’m way closer to her age than you are.”

“Shut up.”

She throws you some sand and you laugh a little more before looking up at the sky. It’s bright blue, the sun is shinning and you really love the Australian vibes. But you think about Lucy’s words, and you decide to ask her the question that is running in your mind.

“What am I supposed to do if Life gave me the best thing and take it back from me?”

Lucy stays silenced for some times, and you know that she’s looking at the best answer she can give you.

“If it’s the one thing you have to have, then you will have it back. Maybe it wasn’t the right time now.”

It’s funny that it’s almost the same words than Alessia said. But “maybe” is the keyword of the sentence and you can’t hope it anymore. So you just hum before sighting.

Little did you know that Alessia was actually talking about you too, finally.

********

“I kissed Y/N.”

Ella was peacefully drinking her coffee and spit it around, making Mary grunt. Alessia was holding this information for too long, she needed to take it out. And she trusts no one more than Ella and Mary.

“What did you just say?!” Ella almost shout when she can breathe again.

“Ella” Mary growls.

Mary realized that something was off with Alessia, but she didn’t want to push the younger girl to confess anything. She was far from imagine that it was something like that though.

“Sorry, sorry. I mean, did you kiss her or did she kiss you?” Ella asks.

“I don’t know? We kiss each other I guess; it was a mutual thing.”

Alessia shrugs, looking at her best friend with attention. Like Maya told you at the phone, she only had two relationships and only with boys. And she never said anything about being gay or having a crush on a girl.

“Is it why you are all weird those days? Are you regretting it or something?”

Mary facepalm at Tooney’s lack of tact. For the good of everyone, she decides to take the lead of this conversation.

“Have you talk to her since the kiss?” Mary asks gently.

“No, not really. We just are very busy and… well maybe I kind of ignore her.”

Alessia seems lost, so is Ella, for once unable to say anything. So Mary just put a comforting hand on Alessia’s knee, trying to be the most soft possible.

“You know that it’s ok right? Kissing girl?”

“Yeah” Alessia mumble.

“Of course it is!” Ella exclaimed herself. “Don’t let anyone or yourself saying you otherwise. You have to do what you need to do to be happy. Only your happiness matter.”

“I hate to say that, but she’s right” Mary smirks.

Alessia laughs hearing her friends, feeling a little lighter. Maybe it’s because of her confession, maybe it’s because of their reaction. Or maybe the two. But she’s way more at ease when someone from the staff came to take Ella for some physical exercises. Alessia stays with Mary only and give her a look before talking again.

“We didn’t only kiss” Alessia whispers, looking at her fingers “I… We slept together too.”

Mary doesn’t say that she thought it was the case, but she kind of knew it. In her opinion, Alessia’s reaction would have been a little too much is it would have involved only one kiss.

“Was she good?” Mary asks with an angelic air.

“Mary!”

“What? I’m just asking!”

She raises both of her hand and Alessia rolls her eyes, unable to hide a little smile. This conversation is taking an unexpected turn.

“She was good. She was so sweet and gentle… And very affectionate and careful. I didn’t know it was possible to be this and… I don’t know, very hot and sensual at the same time?”

“Well you’re a lucky girl.” Mary laughs.

Alessia have red cheeks but seems interested by Mary’s comment. She won’t say at loud, but what she shared with you that night was better than everything of her precedents “bedroom stuff”, how she likes to name it.

“Is it always like this?”

“Mh all girls aren’t good too, I think. Like in straight world, you can find everything.”

“How can sex with a girl feels so different?”

Mary smiles softly, touched by Alessia’s naivety and cuteness. She doesn’t know why Alessia chose not to talk about it with Ella around, but she’s determined to be a good friend and advise her instead of teasing her.

“I don’t know Love, I never been with a man before. But have you thought that maybe it’s not because of the gender of the person, but the person herself?”

Alessia raise her eyes on Mary, biting her lips. Her cheeks are now a little redder and Mary understands quickly that she was kind of right. Like your other teammates, Mary knows you like girls. Everyone knows. You had some flings with other players, but the goalkeeper don’t know a lot about your love life.

“What happened after you slept with her?” Mary asks softly.

“I told her that it wasn’t the right moment to start something serious. She told me that it was ok, but she still seems strange don’t you think?”

“A little, yes. Why isn’t it the right moment?”

Alessia shrugs and looks away this time. She wasn’t really proud of her behavior with you, but it was to protect herself in a way. She is scared about her feelings for you and the way you make her feel that night.

“Because we are literally at the World Cup? And she’s living in Spain, I don’t think I can do a long-distance relationship… And… Well, I never been with a girl before. It’s kind of scary. And she just broke up with her girlfriend who cheated on her.”

“If you are sure that it’s the good choice for you, then you were right to do it Less. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Alessia nods and hug her friend when Mary extends her arms to her. She’s not really sure if it’s the good choice to make actually. But she can’t go back to the morning after. She’s grateful for Mary though, even if she chooses a way that Mary wouldn’t, the goalkeeper never tries to change her mind. She adapts herself at the other person.

********

The game against Nigeria is the worst memory of your tournament. You came in for Lauren Hemp at the second period, but with LJ’s red card it was a though game. You are exhausted at the end of the second prolongation, but you still have your penalty to shoot. Georgia missed hers and you are the last of the five on Sarina’s list to take your shoot.

Your hands are shaking when you put the ball on the ground, and you try to breath correctly when the referee talks to the other goalkeeper. You look at the bench and it was the first time that you really crossed Alessia’s gaze since you slept together. Her eyes are even more blue than you remember. She nods at you and gives you a half-smile. You don’t answer to her, but this contact as small as it was, gives you some confidence back. You have this. You can do it.

Taking a deep breath, you take three big steps back and look right in the other goalkeeper’s eyes. Some seconds after you start to run, hit the ball who go straight in the left corner of the net.

You feel your knees gives up when Lucy jumps on your back and soon you are with other players on top of you. The relief is amazing, and you are still shacking when someone takes your hand to help you getting up. You realize when she hugs you that it’s Keira.

“Well done” Sarina says to you when she pats your back.

When she calls you later, Leah was a little more polite about your achievements, and told you to shut up when you answer that it was a teamwork. You laugh though, happy to hear your friend.

“You are sure you still don’t want to come to play at Arsenal?”

“No Leah, stop” you laugh.

“Whatever. I will have Alessia next season anyway, she makes good choice, unlike you.”

You can her Leah’s smirk while she talks, but it’s not the information that stay in your head.

“Lessi is coming to Arsenal?”

“Oh shit. Yes, it supposed to be a secret, please don’t say anything to anyone. I’m not even supposed to know it myself.”

“What did you do Williamson?” you grin.

You don’t know why this information is disturbing to you. Maybe because you have hopped that the blonde would like to come to Barcelona? But you know that she won’t do it, her family is in England, and she has another bond with them than you have. Plus, she already left to the USA before, she probably wants to stay as close as possible to them.

Thanks God, you have Leah’s adventures tonight to keep you entertained and to help you a little to forget about this information. You don’t talk to her about what happened with Alessia, you don’t really know why. Maybe because she knows the girl, but in reality, you prefer to have an advice from someone in front of you.

[moon-lit-petal]

Believe Me

Neville Longbottom x Fem!Beauxbatons!Reader

Summary: 5 times Dean and Seamus don't believe Neville and the time He proved them wrong.

Warning: not proof read, possibly not so nice friends, Neville being totally in love.

Word Count: 5k

Notes: this takes place when they are much older, I'd like to think that moldy V doesn't exist and the triwizard tournament happens much later in their hogwarts career :) I tried to keep it as ambiguous

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The Gryffindor common room was a cozy haven, illuminated by the flickering flames of the fireplace that cast warm shadows on the maroon and gold walls. A rowdy bunch of Gryffindors lounged comfortably on the oversized sofas, laughter and chatter filling the air as they reminisced about their latest escapades at Hogwarts.

"Honestly," Ron said, a frown spreading across his face, "I don’t know what’s worse—having a crush or trying to figure out what to say when you actually talk to them!"

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Tell me about it. I thought I was doing well with Cho until I accidentally called her 'Hermione' in the middle of a conversation!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, a playful smirk on her lips. "That’s not going to help your case, Harry."

The boys erupted into laughter, the sound bouncing off the stone walls. Dean leaned back, his arms behind his head, a hint of frustration in his voice. "I can’t even get a proper conversation going. It’s like every time I try to flirt, I end up sounding like a complete idiot."

Seamus snickered. "Remember when you tried to impress that girl from Slytherin with your 'amazing' Quidditch skills? You barely made it through the first sentence!"

"That was one time!" Dean retorted, though he couldn’t suppress a sheepish grin.

Just then, Neville spoke up with hesitant confidence.

"I mean, dating isn't that hard when you're with the right person."

The room fell silent, a few eyebrows raised in curiosity. Ron snorted, breaking the stillness. "No offense, Neville, but what do you know about dating? You've never had a girlfriend before, right?"

With a half-hearted shrug and a giddy smile, he looks at his friends. “Well actually, I've been dating this girl for a little while now.”

"Wait, who is she?" Harry asked, genuinely curious.

"She’s from Beauxbatons!" Neville said, his voice gaining confidence. "Her name is Y/N. She’s really nice, we met over the summer when she was visiting some family”"

Seamus squinted skeptically. "A Beauxbatons girl? Come on, Neville, that sounds a bit too good to be true."

Hermione frowned, clearly disapproving of the boys’ reactions. "Guys, come on you shouldn't just dismiss him, I'm sure she's a nice girl Neville." She gave him a small smile, Neville could tell she too, didn't believe him

Ginny crossed her arms and chimed in. "Exactly. Just because you lot can’t seem to get dates doesn’t mean you should tear him down."

Ron raised his hands in mock surrender. "I’m not tearing him down! I’m just saying it’s hard to believe. Neville and a girl from Beauxbatons?"

Neville’s face turned a shade of crimson. "I’m serious! We’ve been writing to each other, and she even sent me a few drawings, she does portraits and sent one shed done of herself"

Laughter erupted around the room, the sound mingling with Neville’s embarrassed smile.

Hermione’s expression softened. "That sounds just lovely Neville. Maybe you could show us next time?"

Neville blushed even deeper. "I’m planning to! Well, I was… but they fell in the black lake the other day and got ruined..”

Seamus grinned. "Well, that's just a bloody shame, isn't it?”

"I swear! I'm not lying!!" Neville replied, sounding both desperate for someone to believe him and annoyed they would think he'd lie about something like this, to begin with.

Ginny smirked. "It's ok Neville, we believe you really."

The boys continued their good-natured teasing, but Hermione and Ginny shot them looks that conveyed they should ease off. Gradually, the teasing softened, and Hermione quickly sought to change the subject.

"So, what about that new potion Professor Snape was on about?" she suggested, her smile brightening, and at the mention of Professor Snape everyone groaned out a whine.

The conversation shifted effortlessly as they delved into tales of misadventures in Potions class, leaving the topic of girlfriends behind, at least for the moment. Laughter filled the room once more, but Neville couldn’t help but shake his head at his friends. He knows they mean well, and as long as he knows he's telling the truth, then they'd eat their words eventually

----------

The greenhouses were buzzing with the sound of shovels scraping soil and the occasional screech from a particularly unruly Mandrake. Neville Longbottom, expertly handling a Venomous Tentacula with gloved hands, chatted absently with Ron as they worked together.

“I was talking to Y/N the other day,” Neville said, his tone casual as he patted down the soil around the plant. “She gave me some really good advice on how to deal with these sorts of plants. Apparently, they grow some massive ones in the Beauxbatons greenhouses.”

Ron looked up from his struggle with his own plant. “Oh yeah? Beauxbatons, right?”

Neville nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, she said they have this whole section dedicated to magical flora that we don’t even study here. She told me about this method they use to calm them down, so they don’t snap at you when you get close.”

Hermione overheard and looked over, curiosity piqued. “Really? I’d love to read up on that. Beauxbatons must have a fantastic Herbology program. Did she mention any specific techniques?”

Neville smiled. “Yeah, something about using lavender essence mixed with dragon dung fertilizer. It keeps them relaxed but still healthy. I’m thinking about trying it on one of the plants here.”

Ron gave him a sideways glance, his expression caught between amusement and doubt. “You’ve got an answer for everything these days, don’t you, Neville? Y/N’s always helping you out, eh?”

“Well, she knows a lot about Herbology,” Neville said earnestly. “We talk about plants all the time.”

Harry, busy with his own re-potting, chuckled softly. “Sounds like you two have a lot in common, Neville. It’s nice to have someone who shares your interests.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. “Exactly. And Beauxbatons is known for their magical plants, so it’s not surprising she’d know a lot. What else has she taught you?”

Before Neville could respond, Seamus, who was struggling with his own plant a few tables away, joined the conversation. “Wait a minute, are we still talking about the mysterious Beauxbatons girlfriend? You’ve got to admit, Neville, it sounds a bit too good to be true. A French girl who’s an expert in magical plants? What are the odds?”

Dean snorted in amusement. “Yeah, Neville, no offense, but you talk about her like she’s perfect. She’s beautiful, smart, loves Herbology… I’m starting to think you’ve been reading too many romance novels.”

Neville flushed, but he shook his head. “No, it’s not like that. She’s real, I promise. She just… understands me. We have a lot in common.”

Ron patted Neville on the back, grinning. “We believe you, mate. It’s just hard to imagine someone who’s basically a Herbology goddess and happens to be your girlfriend. We’ll believe it when we see her.”

Harry, who had been silent for most of the exchange, gave Neville an encouraging smile. “Well, I’m sure she’s real, Neville. It’d be great to meet her one day.”

Seamus, however, couldn’t resist another quip. “Maybe she’ll show up with a rare magical plant to prove it, eh?”

Neville forced a smile but didn’t push the subject further. He knew they didn’t mean to be harsh, but it was clear that, despite their friendly tones, his friends still had their doubts about Y/N. He returned to his work, focusing on the plants.

----------

It was a typical morning in the Great Hall, sunlight streaming through the tall enchanted windows, casting golden beams across the long tables filled with Hogwarts students enjoying their breakfast. The scent of fresh bread, eggs, and pumpkin juice filled the air. Chatter echoed from all sides, students murmuring about Quidditch matches, homework assignments, and weekend plans.

Neville sat at the Gryffindor table, absently pushing his scrambled eggs around his plate. His thoughts were far from breakfast. He had been waiting for weeks now—hoping for a letter or, even better, a package from Y/N.. Their relationship had been going strong, though the distance often made it difficult. But lately, he'd mentioned her so many times that his friends had begun to give him knowing looks, and their teasing, though lighthearted, always made him feel a little self-conscious.

“Oi, Neville! You alright, mate?” Seamus Finnigan asked, nudging him gently. “You’ve been staring at those eggs for ten minutes. Something on your mind?”

Neville smiled faintly, trying to shake off his nervous anticipation. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… waiting for the post.”

At that moment, as if on cue, the familiar sound of wings fluttering through the air filled the hall. Dozens of owls soared through the enchanted ceiling, delivering letters and parcels to their waiting owners. Neville’s heart raced as he scanned the sea of wings, hoping to see something special. And then he saw it—a stunning, silvery owl with long, elegant wings gliding toward him, catching the light as it flew. It was unlike any owl he’d ever seen at Hogwarts.

The owl swooped down gracefully, landing right in front of Neville with a soft hoot. In its talons was a thick package wrapped in delicate lavender-colored paper, sealed with the distinctive wax crest of Beauxbatons. Neville’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, he just stared at the package in his lap, hardly believing it.

“Blimey, Neville,” Ron said from across the table, his eyebrows raised. “That’s a fancy delivery.”

“Is that… from your girlfriend?” Hermione asked, looking at the package curiously.

Neville nodded, trying not to look too pleased. “Yeah, it’s from Y/N.”

His friends exchanged glances, but there wasn’t any teasing, just mild surprise. Neville had spoken about Y/N often, but she seemed almost like a mythical figure to them—this beautiful, mysterious girl from France whom none of them had ever met.

“That’s some owl she’s got,” Dean commented, leaning over to get a better look at the package. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one like that.”

Neville nodded again, feeling a bit self-conscious under their gazes. “She mentioned it once. Said it’s a rare breed from France. She’s… pretty proud of it.”

Seamus grinned. “Well, go on then, mate. Open it! Let’s see what she’s sent you.”

Neville hesitated for a moment, feeling all eyes on him. He knew they weren’t trying to be skeptical or mean, but he could sense the curiosity behind their words. His friends had never outright doubted him, but it was clear that after months of hearing about Y/N and not seeing any proof, they were a bit… unsure. Still, there was no mockery in their faces—just genuine interest.

With a deep breath, Neville carefully broke the wax seal and unwrapped the package. Inside was a beautifully embroidered scarf in the deep blue and silver colors of Beauxbatons, along with a folded letter. The scarf was soft, clearly handmade, and it smelled faintly of lavender.

“Wow,” Hermione said, leaning in closer. “That’s lovely, Neville. She made this for you?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Neville said quietly, running his fingers over the delicate stitches. “She’s been learning how to embroider. I, um… mentioned I needed a new scarf for winter, and I guess she remembered.”

Ron nodded appreciatively. “That’s impressive. Not many people make things like this anymore.”

Harry smiled from beside him. “Looks like she really cares about you, Neville.”

Neville smiled, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the scarf. It felt good to hear that—not just because it was true, but because it seemed like, for once, his friends weren’t doubting him.

But then Seamus, ever the joker, raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You’ve got to admit, though, Neville—it’s almost too perfect. A hand-embroidered scarf? From a Beauxbatons girl who sends you packages by a rare French owl? It’s like something out of a storybook.”

Neville laughed, shaking his head. “I know it sounds a bit… unbelievable, but I swear it’s true. She’s real.”

Dean, who had been eyeing the letter, grinned. “Well, if she keeps sending you things like this, we’ll start believing in miracles.”

Hermione shot Dean a disapproving look, but Neville chuckled along with the others. It wasn’t mean-spirited—they were just having fun. He didn’t mind the light teasing, especially now that he had proof to show them. And even if they found it hard to believe, they weren’t questioning him outright, just amused at the unlikely situation.

“That’ll be the day,” Ron said with a grin, though he quickly added, “But hey, She sounds great.”

Neville folded the scarf carefully and slipped it into his bag, feeling a little lighter. “She is.”

As the conversation shifted back to Quidditch and schoolwork, Neville glanced down at the unopened letter in his hands. He could read it later, in private. For now, he felt content knowing that, whether his friends believed him or not, Y/N was real—and she cared about him enough to send something as special as this.

Even if they still found it hard to imagine, that was enough for Neville. And maybe, just maybe, one day soon, his friends would get to meet her and see for themselves that she wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. But until then, he’d hold on to the scarf, the letter, and the quiet certainty that she was thinking of him as much as he was thinking of her.

----------

The Gryffindor common room was quieter than usual, the usual hustle and bustle replaced with a mellow atmosphere as the school year drew to a close. Most of the students had already packed their things, their trunks neatly stacked and waiting by the fireplace. The chairs around the room were occupied by groups of friends chatting, playing games, or simply lounging around, savoring the last few moments before heading home for the summer.

Neville sat with Seamus, Dean, and a couple of other Gryffindors near the windows, gazing out at the grounds. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow on the stone walls.

“I can't believe the year’s over already,” Dean said, leaning back in his chair. “Feels like we were just getting back from Christmas break.”

“Yeah, crazy,” Seamus agreed, his tone relaxed. “But I’m not going to miss the essays.”

Neville, absently fiddling with his wand, smiled. “I was telling Y/N about how busy it’s been. She’s had a lot going on too. The end of the year at Beauxbatons is apparently just as hectic as here.”

Seamus shot him a quick glance, his expression neutral, though Dean exchanged a brief look with him. “Y/N, huh?” Seamus said, not missing a beat. “Sounds like she’s got it rough over there.”

Neville nodded, completely unaware of Seamus’s inner skepticism. “Yeah, she’s been swamped. But we’re planning to meet up over the summer. She might even come to England for a bit.”

“That’s great, mate,” Dean chimed in, his voice casual though he raised his eyebrows slightly.

Neville stood up suddenly as if remembering something important. “Oh no! I forgot to pack my Astrronomy textbooks. I’ll be right back.”

With that, he hurried off to his dorm room, leaving the rest of them sitting there. The moment Neville was out of earshot, Seamus turned to the others with an exaggerated sigh.

“Alright,” Seamus said, leaning forward. “I like Neville, you all know that, but I’m telling you, there is no way Y/N exists.”

Dean grinned, leaning in as well. “You’re still stuck on that?”

Seamus shrugged, but the look on his face said he was convinced. “Come on, Dean. You’ve heard him talk about her for months—perfect French girlfriend from Beauxbatons who just happens to love magical plants as much as he does? I mean, sure, it could be true, but she’s never sent a picture, she’s never visited Hogwarts, and the only proof we’ve got are a few letters that could be from anyone.”

One of the younger Gryffindors, who had been listening in, piped up. “So, you think Neville’s lying? He doesn’t seem like the type to make something like that up.”

Seamus shook his head quickly. “No, I don’t think he’s lying, not really. I think he believes it. But I’m just saying—it sounds like he’s being catfished. It’s not like he’s met her in person since they started writing. For all we know, it could be some bloke from Durmstrang having a laugh.”

Dean chuckled. “You reckon someone’s really going that far to mess with Neville? That’s pretty dedicated.”

Seamus leaned back, his arms crossed. “Look, I’m not trying to be mean. I just don’t think she’s real. Or if she is, maybe she’s not exactly what Neville thinks. It’s just a bit… convenient, isn’t it? All these grand stories, but no one’s ever seen her.”

One of the girls nearby, who had been half-listening, frowned. “But Neville doesn’t seem like he’s making it up. He talks about her like she’s the real deal.”

“I know, that’s what makes me feel bad about doubting him,” Seamus admitted. “But you’ve got to admit it’s a bit suspicious. Every time she’s supposed to visit, something comes up. She’s ‘too busy,’ or ‘there’s something going on at Beauxbatons.’ It’s been almost a year and still no sign of her.”

Dean raised a hand to stop Seamus. “Alright, alright. But what if she is real and just… busy?”

Seamus snorted softly, though his tone was lighter. “Then she’s the busiest girlfriend in the world. Look, I’m not saying I’d tell Neville to his face that I don’t believe her. The poor bloke would be crushed. But between us… I just don’t see it.”

There was a brief lull in the conversation, and Seamus’s words hung in the air. The group seemed divided—some more skeptical, others wanting to believe in Neville’s story.

“Maybe she’ll surprise us,” one of the younger students said. “Maybe she’ll show up next year and you’ll all feel silly.”

Seamus grinned, though his expression remained doubtful. “If she shows up, I’ll buy Neville a drink. But until then… I’m betting we’re in for another year of stories about a girl we’ll never meet.”

As they laughed and talked, the door to the boys’ dormitory creaked open, and Neville came back down the stairs, his arms full of books.

“Found them,” Neville said, smiling as he returned to his spot by the window. “I almost forgot the Mooncalf studies Y/N recommended too.”

Seamus caught Dean’s eye but quickly smiled at Neville. “Glad you found everything, mate. All set for the summer, then?”

“Yeah,” Neville said, sitting down and looking a little wistful. “Just can’t wait to see her.”

Seamus nodded, his tone friendlier now. “Hope it all works out, Nev.”

As the conversation moved on to other things, the quiet skepticism lingered, but none of them had the heart to say anything to Neville directly. As much as they doubted Y/N’s existence, they couldn’t bring themselves to crush Neville’s enthusiasm. They just hoped, in their own way, that somehow, Y/N would turn out to be real after all.

----------

The Hogwarts Express rattled along the tracks, carrying its excited students back to school for another year. Laughter, chatter, and the occasional call of a vendor selling sweets filled the air as students reunited after the summer holiday, exchanging stories and catching up on the latest news.

In one of the compartments, Neville sat with Seamus, Dean, and a few other Gryffindors, a wide grin on his face as he animatedly recounted his summer adventures.

“… and then we went to this amazing garden in Kew! She couldn’t believe how many magical plants were hidden in plain sight. I’ve never seen her so excited,” Neville said, his eyes sparkling as he spoke about Y/N for the umpteenth time since they’d boarded the train.

Seamus leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, nodding along. “That sounds pretty great, Neville. So, you finally got to go on a proper date, huh?”

Neville beamed. “Yeah! We went on a few, actually. We had the best time. She was in London visiting her family for a couple of weeks, so we got to meet up almost every day.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, curious. “You said she was visiting family before, right? Didn’t she have plans to stay longer?”

“Yeah, she did,” Neville admitted, his tone dropping slightly, “but something came up. Her family had to leave earlier than expected, so she didn’t get to meet you guys like we’d planned.” He looked apologetic as he said it, clearly disappointed that his friends hadn’t been able to meet Y/N again.

“That’s too bad,” Dean said, sharing a glance with Seamus. “We were looking forward to it.”

“Yeah, me too,” Neville sighed, but then perked up again. “But we did take loads of pictures! I wanted to show you all, but… uh…” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “She took the photos with her by accident when she left. We were using her camera, and she packed it with all her stuff.”

Seamus blinked, his expression carefully neutral. “So, no pictures?”

Neville shook his head, he saw the clear skepticism beneath Seamus’s question but brushed it off. “No, but she’s going to send them by owl as soon as she can. She promised. There were some really good ones too—us in front of the Leaky Cauldron, at Kew Gardens, and a few near the Tower of London. I can’t wait to show you all.”

Seamus exchanged another glance with Dean, a small smile tugging at his lips, though he kept it from looking too patronizing. “Sounds like it was a great time, mate.”

“Oh, it was,” Neville said earnestly. “Y/N’s amazing. We even talked about coming up with ways to visit more often during the year. Maybe meet up during the Hogsmeade weekends. I’m going to send her a letter as soon as we get back to Hogwarts.”

Seamus nodded along, though his smile faltered slightly. “Yeah, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Dean shifted in his seat, glancing out the window for a moment before leaning forward. “So, Neville, you said her family comes to London often, right? Does she have a lot of family here?”

“Her dad’s English,” Neville explained. “Her mum is French, so they stay over there most of the time but they come back to visit every summer, and sometimes during the holidays. That’s how we managed to spend so much time together.”

Dean nodded slowly, while Seamus leaned forward just a little. “And you didn’t think to borrow one picture, maybe a keepsake for yourself?” he asked lightly. There was no malice in his voice, but there was an unmistakable undertone of doubt.

Neville ignored it. “I didn’t need to. We’ve been writing so much, and she’s going to send the pictures soon. Besides, I’ve got her letters, and I brought back a few things we picked up together. Look.” He pulled out a small, intricately woven bracelet from his bag. “We got these matching bracelets from a little magical shop near Diagon Alley. Hers has a charm for luck, and mine’s for protection.”

Seamus studied the bracelet for a moment before leaning back. “That’s nice, Neville.”

Dean smiled at the bracelet, genuinely trying to be supportive. “Yeah, it looks great. You two must’ve had a good time.”

“We did,” Neville replied, relaxing now that he was surrounded by his friends. “She’s just… brilliant. I really wish you could’ve met her. I know you’d all get along.”

Seamus offered a friendly smile, though his eyes flickered with doubt. “Yeah, maybe next time, Neville.”

The compartment grew quiet for a moment, and the sound of the train clacking along the tracks filled the space. Outside, the countryside whizzed by in a blur of green fields and distant hills, and the feeling of excitement for the new school year was still palpable.

Dean, always the diplomat, broke the silence. “Well, I’m glad you had a good summer, Neville. Hopefully next time, the timing will work out better.”

Neville nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I’m sure it will. She really wants to meet you all. She’s heard so much about you.”

Seamus shot Dean a look, and Dean just shrugged, his face carefully neutral. No one wanted to say it, but the story about Y/N was starting to sound a bit too convenient—another summer gone by, another set of plans that didn’t quite line up. And now, no photos to show for it, either.

But despite their growing doubts, Seamus and Dean weren’t about to crush Neville’s enthusiasm. Not after he had spent the entire train ride practically glowing with happiness. Still, once Neville got up to stretch his legs and grab some snacks from the trolley, Seamus leaned toward Dean with a raised eyebrow.

“So… still no Y/N, huh?”

Dean chuckled quietly. “Still no Y/N.”

“I swear, if she’s real, I’ll eat my own shoe,” Seamus muttered under his breath. “Every time he gets close to introducing her, something comes up.”

Dean glanced out the window again before replying. “I don’t know, Seamus. Maybe she’s real, but there’s just bad timing. Or maybe…”

“Maybe she’s in his head,” Seamus finished, his tone soft but resigned. “I just don’t get how one person could have this much bad luck when it comes to us meeting her.”

Dean shook his head, a small smile on his lips. “At this point, I just hope for Neville’s sake that she’s real. You can see how much he cares about her.”

“Yeah,” Seamus sighed, leaning back in his seat. “I hope so too.”

When Neville returned with a handful of Chocolate Frogs and a Butterbeer, his smile was as bright as ever, blissfully unaware of the quiet conversation that had just passed between his friends. And as the Hogwarts Express continued its journey, his thoughts were already on the letters he’d be sending to Y/N once they arrived at school.

----------

The atmosphere in the Great Hall was buzzing with excitement. The start of a new school year always brought surprises, but this time, there was something different in the air. The students were seated at their house tables, eagerly awaiting the feast, when Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat to address the hall.

“Welcome, students, to another year at Hogwarts!” Dumbledore’s voice echoed throughout the room, immediately capturing everyone’s attention. “I am particularly pleased to announce that this year, we will be hosting a most extraordinary event… the Triwizard Tournament!”

A murmur spread through the hall, rippling with whispers and shocked expressions. Neville, seated at the Gryffindor table with Seamus, Dean, Harry, Hermione, and Ron, exchanged confused glances with the others.

“Triwizard Tournament?” Dean muttered. “That wasn’t in the usual announcements.”

“Yeah, didn’t see that coming,” Seamus added, leaning in to hear more.

Dumbledore continued, explaining the rich history of the tournament, how it had been revived, and the prestigious honor of being chosen as a champion. Then, with a wave of his hand, he motioned to the entrance of the hall.

“And now, may I introduce our esteemed guests from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and Durmstrang Institute.”

The heavy doors at the end of the hall swung open, and the students of Beauxbatons Academy entered. They moved with grace and poise that captivated everyone, wearing their sky-blue silk robes as they marched in perfect unison. Neville’s heart raced as he scanned the group, but he couldn’t spot Y/N among them.

“Who are they?” Harry asked, squinting to get a better look.

“I don’t know,” Hermione replied, intrigued. “But they look amazing.”

“They’re all so… elegant,” Ron said, trying to take it all in. “Do you think they’re all that good-looking?”

“Probably,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes playfully.

As the Beauxbatons students completed their entrance, Neville’s heart dropped when he didn’t see Y/N. Just when he thought he might be imagining things, she stepped forward, performing acrobatic flips and graceful spins, her hair flowing behind her like a cascade of river waves. She looked more stunning than Neville could ever have described.

“Bloody hell, who is that?” Dean whispered, eyes wide in disbelief.

Seamus was staring, frozen in place. “No way…”

When the introductions were done, Neville leaned closer to his friends. “That’s her! That’s Y/N!”

Harry raised an eyebrow, glancing between Neville and the group. “Wait, who’s Y/N? Which one?”

Neville pointed toward Y/N, who was beaming with joy alongside her classmates. “The one in the front! I didn’t know she was coming!”

The others turned to look, their expressions shifting from curiosity to disbelief. “No way!” Ron exclaimed, glancing at Neville. “You weren’t joking about her being real?”

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “She’s absolutely brilliant!”

Before anyone could say another word, a voice called out from across the hall.

“Neville!”

Neville’s head snapped up, and there she was, weaving through the crowd, her face lighting up when she spotted him. “Y/N!” he breathed.

The next thing he knew, Y/N was rushing toward him, a wide smile on her face. “Neville!” she called again, and in an instant, she was there, throwing her arms around him.

Without hesitation, she began planting kisses all over his face—on his cheeks, forehead, and nose—her laughter bubbling up as she clung to him. “I’ve missed you so much!” she said between kisses.

The entire Gryffindor table stared in stunned silence. Seamus’s mouth was hanging open, while Dean could only blink in disbelief. All around the hall, students who had been casually talking or laughing stopped to watch the unexpected display. Whispers started spreading like wildfire, but Neville didn’t care—he was too overjoyed, too caught up in the moment.

“Y/N!” Neville finally managed to say, his face flushed from the attention. “I—I missed you too! I didn’t know you were coming! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N giggled and pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, her hands still resting on his shoulders. “I wanted to surprise you, silly. You should’ve seen your face when I came in!” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

Neville was too overwhelmed to respond properly. His heart felt like it was about to burst from happiness. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, grinning ear to ear.

“I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” Y/N said softly, wrapping her arms around him again in a tight hug.

The Gryffindor table was still frozen in place, watching the entire scene unfold with wide eyes. Seamus finally found his voice and leaned toward Dean, whispering, “Well… that is not what I expected at all...”

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “You’re not the only one, mate.”

Y/N finally pulled away from Neville, her smile never fading. She glanced around at his friends, who were still recovering from the shock. “You must be Neville’s friends,” she said brightly, offering them a cheerful wave. “It’s so nice to finally meet you all!”

“Y-Yeah, we’ve heard… a lot about you,” Dean stammered, offering a friendly, albeit awkward smile.

Y/N laughed, completely oblivious to the lingering disbelief. “I hope all good things!”

“Definitely,” Seamus managed to say, shooting Neville a look that was a mixture of awe and apology. “Welcome to Hogwarts, Y/N.”

As the rest of the Great Hall resumed their chatter, Neville stood there with Y/N by his side, his face glowing with pride. After a year of doubt, teasing, and skepticism, here she was—real, vibrant, and wonderful.

For once, Neville didn’t need to say anything. His friends finally believed him.

[togrowoldinv]

Batter, Batter

Jock!Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

On an overnight team trip, Wanda decides to make a move on you. It goes better than she expected

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, oblivious reader in the beginning, oral (W and R receiving), fingering, very confident Wanda

Note: I got this idea and couldn’t let it go until I wrote it. Yes, I made them softball players. I know what sports I know. Enjoy!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

Wanda Maximoff is by far and wide your favorite teammate. The girl always cheers you on the loudest and picks you up when you make an error.

So, you weren’t surprised when Wanda was designated as your roommate for the team’s overnight final tournament.

Now, you sit on the hotel bed in your uniform and wait for Wanda to finish getting dressed. She comes out of the bathroom in just her unbuttoned pants and socks with a sports bra on.

“Y/n, have you seen my jersey?” She asks you.

You look up from your phone and your mouth goes dry. Wanda’s abs are on display. You try to avert your gaze, but it’s no use.

“Earth to y/n,” Wanda says, a chuckle escaping from her lips.

“Sorry- uh- yeah I think it’s over on the dresser,” you stumble through your words.

Wanda nods and finds the jersey. She slips it over her head and tucks it into her pants. Then she looks around again.

“Any chance you’ve seen my belt?” Wanda asks.

“By your bag,” you say.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she says. She puts the belt through her pant loops, but she stops short of buckling it. “Could you help me?”

“Oh- um-”

“My hand still hurts from taking that ball to my knuckles yesterday,” Wanda explains.

You’re sure you would remember if that happened, but who are you to deny helping her? You cross the room and buckle her belt. You don’t see how Wanda stares at you as you do it, her eyes searching for the same want in yours.

When you’re done, you step back and look at her face. She smiles and places a hand on your arm.

“We should get going to make team breakfast,” you say.

“Right,” Wanda agrees. “Let’s go.”

The two of you slip on your shoes and go down to the hotel lobby to meet the rest of the team. You greet Natasha and Carol as Wanda walks off to talk to other teammates.

“So, how is it rooming with Maximoff?” Carol asks you, a hint of teasing in her voice.

“It’s cool, yeah,” you say. “We get along.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Natasha teases.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Natasha shares a glance with Carol wondering if she should tell you. She doesn’t get the chance when your coach starts talking to the team.

After listening to the speech, Wanda finds herself sitting next to Monica at breakfast.

“I’m guessing you haven’t made a move yet,” Monica says to her.

Wanda sighs, “No. I can’t tell if it will scare her off if I do.”

“I’ve seen how she looks at you,” Monica says. “She may not know it, but she is definitely in love with you.”

Wanda grins at that.

“I think I’ll do it tonight after the game,” Wanda decides. It’s usually easier than this for her to make moves on girls, but she really likes you and that scares her a bit.

The rest of the day goes by quickly. Both you and Wanda play well, and the team moves on to the next round of playoffs. The team is off celebrating, but you hang back in the hotel room.

You thought Wanda was going out, but she enters the room.

“Oh hey,” she says. “Not going to celebrate?”

“Nah, I’m too tired,” you say. “What about you?”

She shakes her head. “A night in with you sounds better.”

You smile and try to find a movie on the tv. Wanda sits on her bed, but she glances over at you. If she’s going to make a move, she needs to make it now. She stands up and walks to your bed.

“Can I sit with you?” Wanda asks.

“Yeah- okay,” you say.

You scoot over and Wanda sits next to you. She’s close enough that her thigh is brushing against yours. At some point, she places her hand on your thigh and leans her head against your shoulder.

You don’t know why her closeness makes your heart flutter. She stays like that for the whole movie.

Afterward, she sits up straight again and looks at you.

“Y/n,” Wanda begins. She is close to you, close enough that you can see every feature on her face. She is absolutely perfect. Wanda leans her lips closer to yours. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whisper. All other words escaping you.

Wanda closes the distance between you two. Her fingers brush softly over your cheek as her lips move against yours. You gasp when Wanda deepens the kiss, her tongue entering your mouth.

She pulls away slightly. Wanda examines your face.

“Have you never had a woman’s tongue in your mouth before?” Wanda asks. Her words have an effect on your body, making you ache for her. You shake your head. “Use your words, baby.”

“No. I haven’t,” you say.

“Just follow my lead, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, anticipation building up in you.

Wanda kisses you again. This time she wastes no moment. She deepens the kiss. Wanda pushes you back onto the bed. Her eyes rake over your body before her hands begin to wander.

“Tell me you want this,” Wanda says, her hand hovering over your shorts. You had changed into them after a quick shower following the game.

“I want this, Wanda,” you say. You never thought this day would come.

Wanda smiles and slips her hand under the waistband of your shorts. She slides the material down your legs, grinning when you aren’t wearing any underwear. Wanda notices the tint of blush on your face. It makes her heart flutter. She sits up and takes her own pants off, leaving her in a t-shirt and panties.

“You’re so beautiful,” you find yourself telling her.

Your hand comes to her thigh as she straddles your waist again. Wanda looks at you with her big, green eyes. They rake over your lower half before making a silent plea for you to remove the rest of your clothing.

While you’re lifting your shirt over your head, Wanda discards her own. She lays on top of you again, and her breasts brush against yours. The material of your bras annoys her. Wanda takes off your bra and her own.

“So good,” Wanda mumbles as she takes your nipple in her mouth. You haven’t felt anything like this before. Your senses are on overload as she licks and sucks you.

“Oh Wanda,” your moan radiates through the room.

She hums and switches to your other nipple. Her hand makes its way down your stomach to your wet folds. Wanda is no stranger to making a woman feel good. She moves two fingers around your pussy and slips a finger in while she’s still paying rapt attention to your breasts.

“So wet and tight,” Wanda moans out.

You take her break from your breasts an opportunity to lean and kiss her. Wanda’s tongue battles with yours in full force this time.

“Fuck,” you say when she pulls away. She adds another finger as she hits you right where you need her. “That feels so good.”

“Yeah?” She asks. You nod. “Am I the only person who’s ever touched you like this?”

“Yes,” you breathe out.

Wanda replies with another kiss before she slides down your body. Her tongue joins her fingers in pleasing you. With every stroke, she sucks on your clit, pulling the loudest moans from you.

“I want you to come for me, y/n,” Wanda says once she feels you’re close. “I want you to shout my name and come.”

“Wanda,” you whimper, almost coming but not quite yet. Wanda picks up her pace, and with a couple more seconds, you’re shouting her name.

“Yes, that’s a good girl,” Wanda coos as you come down from your high. Your body aches in the best way.

You reach for her, and she hovers over you again. Your hands move through her perfect hair as you pull her down for a kiss. It’s slow and sinful. You realize how much you want her to feel the way you do.

“I haven’t done it before, but can I take care of you?” You ask her.

“Of course, baby,” Wanda agrees. The term of endearment slips off her tongue easily.

You kiss her once more before you switch positions. You lay next to her a bit, so you can pay attention to her breasts. Doing as she did, you take your time licking and sucking her perfect nipples. Her moans encourage you to keep going, even daring to bite her nipple softly.

“I need you,” Wanda says. She pushes on your head to kiss a trail down her chest to her stomach and right where she wants you.

“You have me,” you tell her. “Tell me what to do?”

“Lick me,” Wanda says. Sounds simple enough.

You lick her folds, much like she did to you. You try to replicate what she did. Wanda moans and tells you how to proceed. Once you get the hang of it, Wanda lays her head back on the bed in pleasure.

“I’m going to come,” she moans out when she’s close.

You feel yourself pick up the pace. Wanda’s mouth is open as her face is twisted with pleasure. She comes, and you lick her until she’s begging for you to stop.

“Fuck that was so hot,” Wanda says, her voice breathy.

You kiss her and lie on the bed next to her. Both of you catch your breath.

“I’ve peaked,” you say.

Wanda chuckles, turning to look at you again. You take her hand in yours and bring it to your lips. You kiss the back, and Wanda smiles at your sweetness.

“So, what are we?” Wanda asks.

“Teammates with benefits?” You wonder aloud. Wanda’s hand comes to your cheek. She looks over your face. She wants to do this right.

“How about we go on a date? And then I could ask you to be my girlfriend?” Wanda suggests.

“Even better,” you agree.

Wanda kisses your forehead softly. You spend the rest of the night kissing each other, getting to know each other better, and thanking goodness for an out-of-town tournament that brought you two together.

It was better than any win you could’ve ever foreseen. With Wanda by your side, you’re always a winner.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 2: If Only You'd Been Here

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you (but ain't nobody love you like I do)

(In which a sadistic writer tortures her beloved ship a fair amount and maybe her readers too)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt/Comfort and maybe Fluff if you squint

Words: 6.5K (someone please be proud that it is in fact shorter 🙈)

TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Injuries, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Good morning my lovelies <3 Just a couple of things I changed that you should know before you read. If you follow WCBB, you know UCLA didn't win the Pac-12 tournament in 2023 but in this universe they did. You also probably know they lost in the NCAA tournament last year to SC in the Greenville region but in this universe, for plot purposes, they're gonna be in the Seattle region. I kept their seeding and who they were playing vague because it was gonna get too complicated to figure out. Also if you saw my list of part titles a while ago, no you didn't lol. As always, feel free to know what you liked, what you didn't, and anything you'd like to see in future parts. And as you're reading, let's just remember y'all love me and everything I do is for the plot. Happy reading and have a wonderful week lovelies!

December 2022

The distinctly “car” smell of her car is starting to make Paige more than a little nauseous. Going by the way Drew is pouting in the passenger seat, he’s also clearly over it. They’ve been driving in circles for what feels like hours. At first, still enamoured with being allowed to sit in the front, her little brother had gone along with her ridiculousness. Now, as they approach maybe the 12th or so lap around the neighbourhood, he seems less than thrilled. 

“Alright let me out and you keep driving,” Drew says, fiddling agitatedly with his seatbelt, “I think I’m gonna puke.”

“Well hold it in,” Paige retorts unhelpfully as they re-round the block. She keeps her eyes focused on the road, ignoring the glare her brother sends her away. He takes in a dramatic breath and leans back onto his seat. She grips the steering wheel tighter as they pass the house again, still not brave enough to pull into the driveaway of a place she’d once considered just as much a home as her own. 

Drew lets out another groan, “I shoulda just stayed home.”

“Well you didn’t-” Paige’s reply is cut off by the sound of a phone call reverberating around the car. The CallerID reads “Azzi (DON’T YOU DARE IGNORE)”, a name the younger girl had plugged in herself with a warning look the day Paige had left LA. Chewing whatever dry skin is still left on her bitten-to-death lips, Paige clicks accept on the call. 

“What number lap is this?” comes Azzi’s exasperated voice and Paige can’t help the smile that creeps onto her face. 

“Oh you know my car’s feeling the need to exercise today,” Paige hums back, suddenly feeling a lot lighter than she had just a couple of seconds ago. Sometimes, she’s not sure how she managed to go a year with this constant heavy weight pressing down on her ribs, and no Azzi to slowly ease her out from under it. 

“Azziiiiii,” Drew whines dramatically, “please come save me. I’m gonna die in this car.”

Affronted, Paige splutters, “nobody forced you to come.”

“You begged me to come,” her young brother quips back and it elicits a laugh from the girl on the other end of the line. 

“I did-”

“Paige,” Azzi cuts her off, “just come inside okay? You’re wasting gas for nothing.”

“I- it’s just-,” Paige’s hands tighten even more around the wheel, as she stops on the sidewalk, switching on her turn signal, but still not entering the driveway. She leans her head against the wheel, overwhelmed by emotions she can’t quite name. Drew places a comforting hand on her back and she sends him a reassuring smile, trying to shield her younger brother from the havoc in her brain. 

“Hey,” Azzi’s voice floats through the fog, “it’s just me okay? Me and you and us. It’ll be okay. I promise.”

It’s like a child being soothed with their favourite binkie, that’s what Azzi’s promise feels like to Paige. She finally turns into the driveaway, and both Drew and Azzi cheer in tandem. The knot in her chest loosens just a little bit at that because the large crowds that scream for her make her feel adored, but this, her own personal cheer squad for her littlest of achievements, well it makes her feel loved. 

“Freedom,” Drew yells as he practically flings himself out of Paige’s barely parked car. She rolls her eyes fondly at her mini me as he dramatically pretends to kiss the ground. It’s a small distraction from the memories that are swirling like a tornado in her mind. Minnesota is home, it’ll always be home but this place, this had been her safe haven, something she could hold onto at a time where everything else was slipping out of her hands. And then, like a fool, she’d let go of it. 

The door opens even before they’ve made it halfway to the door and Azzi’s brothers run out into the front yard. Jon pretends to take pictures and José practically falls to his knees as they swarm around the blonde. 

“Paige, Paige, can we get a picture or an autograph please,” they yell teasingly, “please Miss Bueckers we’re your biggest fans.”

“Move over boys,” Tim Fudd’s booming voice hollers, as he swats his children away, “her biggest fan is actually me eh Paige?”

The girl in question nods solemnly, her smile stretching the full length of her face, and both Jon and José let out a groan as their father beams at Paige. And then Katie’s there, not a hint of anything but pure happiness on her face as she wraps the younger girl into a hug. Paige melts into the embrace, trying her hardest not to burst into tears. Because all she can think about is the hundreds of calls and texts from Azzi that she’d left unanswered, all she can think of is Azzi's devastated face as she’d told Paige about just how hard she’d tried and that wretched ache of i don’t deserve this i broke your daughters heart wraps itself around Paige’s  heart. 

Over Katie’s shoulder, Paige watches as Azzi finally walks out into the law, her cheeks immediately turning red from the cold. The younger girl winks at Paige with a radiant smile, before giving all her attention to Drew who almost trips as he excitedly launches himself into Azzi, tiny hands wrapping around her waist. Paige watches, still buried in the warmth of Katie’s arms, as Drew animatedly tells Azzi all the stories he possibly can and Azzi nods along emphatically as if she’s being told the most important facts of her life. And Paige takes a snapshot of it to add to her ever growing collection of moments i just knew. 

***

January 2023

“Call her.”

Paige doesn’t bother replying, burying her face further into her tear-soaked pillow. Maybe if she ignores her teammate, Caroline will get the message and go away. The earth-shattering pain that she’d subdued for the last couple of months had finally reared its ugly head. And that too at the worst time possible, when her team needed to be a source of strength and with cameras catching the teardrops falling as she mourned the loss of not being able to play in the epic UConn-Tennessee rivalry. She’d done so well at holding it in, breaking apart only a couple of times, sometimes alone and sometimes with Azzi on the other end of the line. Until tonight, when the bright lights and roaring crowd had reignited the itch to just fucking play ball. 

“Paige,” Caroline says again, “stop being stubborn and call her.”

“She has a game tomorrow, she doesn’t need my dramatic ass worrying her right now,” Paige replies, getting into a sitting position when she realises the other girl isn’t about to just let this go. 

“You’re eventually going to call her. The two of you haven’t gone one day without talking to each other since this summer,” Caroline gives her a look, a hint of a smirk play on her face when it tints Paige’s cheeks pink, “seriously, just call her.”

It’s not that Paige doesn’t want to. She’d scrolled through her contacts and stopped at Azzi’s one too many time’s tonight. And each time, just as her fingers had hovered over the green call button, she’d felt guilt claw at her neck. Since she’d shown up in LA, Azzi had shown up for Paige every step of the way, checking in regularly, listening to Paige vent her anger at the world and whispering words of comfort that only sounded true when they came from Azzi’s mouth. Sometimes, if she tries really hard, Paige can feel the ghost of Azzi’s arms wrapping themselves around her shoulders, just as they had that one night in LA when Azzi had held her, so delicately as if she was made of porcelain, through the worst of her breakdowns. 

“She needs to focus on her game,” Paige says after a moment. 

Caroline sighs, mind wandering to the countless texts on her phone from Azzi begging her to take care of Paige and to let her know when the blonde wasn’t doing okay, “I know but she’d want you to call her if she knew. You need her.”

“And where was I when she needed me?” it’s the word need that triggers it, the quick snap because it’s all Paige has been able to think about lately. 

Without basketball, she’d had far too much time on her hands and she’d ended up going down a spiral of watching Azzi’s games from her freshman year, something she’d religiously avoided doing when they had happened live. At first, it had just been this immense feeling of pride, seeing her best friend be the college basketball phenomenon Paige had always known she would be. She’d shoved away the envy of it was supposed to be us that immersed her seeing the way the Bruins celebrated their new star player, and just let herself be happy in her best friend’s happiness. 

And then something changed around at the beginning of January 2022. It had only lasted a couple of games, but Azzi had hit a wall. Threes were short, cuts were made at the wrong time and she kept on getting lost on defence in a way that was very unlike her. And all Paige could focus on, eyes glued to the screen, was how completely and utterly exhausted Azzi looked during that stretch, despite the fact that she’d just come back from winter break. The smile had vanished off her face, replaced by stress lines Paige wished she could go back in time and erase. 

It wasn’t until she’d binged through all the games, cheering silently as Azzi slowly returned to form, that the realisation had hit Paige. She’d been slapped with the memory of a store decorated brightly for Christmas and a familiar voice calling her name, as she’d purposely walked the other way, pretending she hadn’t heard and the more than deserved i’m done trying text that had followed right after. For a year, perhaps longer, Paige had convinced herself that she was the only one who had lost something, she was the only one who had a right to hurt, to break. And still, she thinks she’d take all of that pain again a thousand times, if it means she could erase the fact that in all of her self-pity, she’d broken Azzi too.

“Where was I when she needed me?” she repeats again to Caroline, as the brunette stares at her in confusion, “the answer to that Carol, is that I was anywhere but with her.”

Caroline’s eyes soften in realisation as she takes a cautious step towards Paige, “oh P don’t do this to yourself.”

“I want to call her,” Paige confesses in a whisper, tears brimming in her eyes, “it’s the only thing I’ve wanted to do all day and maybe- maybe I should have but I’m just- I’ve been so unfair to her.”

“You were hurt Paige.”

“I know- I know that. But so was she. You don’t- god Carol- you don’t even know the things I said to her before she left for LA. And she’s still here,” the first tears fall from her blue eyes, and then the next and the next until there’s a steady waterfall streaming down her face, “you know I almost didn’t let her in when she first came over this summer?”

Caroline doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to come sit next to Paige and wrap her arms around the point guard. 

“I didn’t answer her calls or her texts for a year and still, still she’s picked up every call, replied to every text I’ve sent her since summer. I know- I know I need her and she’s going to be there of course she is. But when she needed me, where was I?” Paige drops her face into her hands, “I just- I don’t deserve her.”

There’s a moment of silence as Caroline rubs Paige’s back and lets the older girl wallow in her guilt. And then she reaches for Paige’s phone on the nightstand, ignoring the little grunt of protest. When the screen lights up, there’s already a notification of new messages from Azzi and Caroline can’t help but smile. 

“I think,” she begins softly, “Azzi’s a smart girl so maybe give that tiny little brain of yours a little bit of rest and let her decide who deserves her,” she hands Paige her phone “let her be there for you. I think maybe she needs that too.”

Caroline gives Paige’s shoulders a little squeeze before heading out the doors, giving the older girl a moment of privacy. Paige sighs, getting herself comfortable against her pillows, and rubbing away her tears, before finally giving in and pressing the facetime call button. 

“Do you want a distraction or do you want to talk about it?” Azzi says as soon as she picks up and Paige can see the concern etched all over her face.

“Or maybe I’m perfectly fine?”

“Ah we’re playing the pretend game tonight. Should have cleared your throat for a second longer maybe Miss Perfectly Fine, your eyes are red as fuck and you sound like a dying cat.” 

“Wow, that was rude. Maybe I’m sick?” 

“With what? The “lies to her best friend” flu?”

“That UCLA education has you making up illnesses now? Damn Az, you’re supposed to get smarter in college.”

“You’re so funny, like so funny,” Azzi huffs sarcastically before they both dissolve into giggles. It’s always just been so easy with them. And Paige’s isn’t a poet, but if she was, she’d write sonnets about the sound of Azzi’s laughter, and the way it makes the corner of her eyes crinkle. 

“I watched the game,” Azzi says after a second, “and I saw you.”

Paige smirks, “so you didn’t actually watch the game, just stared at my gorgeous face the whole time?”

“There’s that comedian streak of yours again.”

“Hey you’re the one who said you were watching me instead of the game. But who could blame you really?”

“I didn’t-” Azzi rolls her eyes, as Paige’s cocky smirk deepens, “stop it.”

“You can admit I’m a pretty girl Az,” she teases, delighted when it makes the younger girl blush. 

“Fuck off, you have enough people telling you you’re a pretty girl.”

“Yeah but it means more coming from you,” she says quietly, biting her lip. It’s not the kind of thing you’re supposed to say to your best friend, at least not in the soft, wanting way that Paige says it. Except they both know that the lines in their friendship are far more blurred than they should be, even if they've both done a pretty fantastic job at ignoring that kiss. Paige had learned over Christmas that Azzi was exceptionally good at the pretending part, moving away the moment Paige’s hands lingered a little longer than they should, changing topics if they even got anywhere near addressing the something between them. It shouldn’t have hurt but it did and Paige doesn’t understand how she can so desperately miss something that she never even had in the first place. 

“So distraction then?” Azzi says after a second, changing the subject back to her initial question. 

Paige closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath, “it was just- it was a lot tonight. I didn’t realise I was being that obvious.”

“You weren’t. I just know you a little too well.”

“These are my favourite types of games, you know. The rivalry, the crowd booing my name and getting the chance to quiet them, that’s- that’s the type of game players live for and I just- I miss it Azzi. I miss shooting, I miss defending, I miss just standing on the fucking court sometimes. I miss playing basketball. So. Fucking. Much,” a fresh set of tears leak out of Paige's eyes, as her free hand fists at her bedsheets. 

There’s silence as Paige’s words linger in the air. In a way it’s freeing to be able to say it out loud, to just let herself feel how she feels instead of fighting them. 

“You’re gonna miss it every day until you play again,” Azzi says quietly, her own voice thick with emotions, “and it’s not really gonna get easier until you get it back. But when you finally do, just- just imagine it okay, your first game back. The feeling of the crowd. Dribbling up the court. Making that first shot as everybody loses their minds. Finally just playing the game you love. That’s when that feeling of loss will finally go away.”

Using Azzi’s steady breathing as an anchor to still her erratic heartbeat, Paige lets herself get lost in the picture the younger girl has just painted for her. She lets her mind run to the future that lies ahead of her and if she focuses hard enough she can almost hear the Gampel crowds roaring as she finally returns to the court. 

“It’s kinda really fucking annoying how you always know what to say,” no it isn’t, it’s the only thing that’s keeping Paige going these days. 

“Surviving an ACL injury will do that to a girl,” Azzi says with a pained smile. 

That’s not it Paige thinks, it’s not experience, it’s you and I really wish you were here. But she can’t say that, so she changes the subject instead. 

“Tell me about your game tomorrow.”

They both settle back into their pillows, getting into more comfortable positions. Azzi tells Paige all about her upcoming game and then moves onto another topic, then another and another and another. They’ll wake up tomorrow morning to phones that died and no memory of when they’d fallen asleep. And then they’ll remember who was on the other end of the line, and if that makes them smile a little too hard, well that’s just another thing they’ll pretend didn’t happen. 

***

March 2023

It’s only natural that when Paige finally feels like she can learn to live with just having a little bit of Azzi, that the world would show her just how wrong she could be. She’s been in a much better headspace these days, her knee finally starting to feel like itself again, bit by bit. The guilt of not being able to help her team is still settled into the pits of her stomach but even with that, she’s reached a sort of acceptance. And while she’s still struggling to fight the part of her heart that wants so much more, she’s learning to be content with just having her best friend back.

It’s that little bit of time in between conference tournaments and the NCAA tournament when it feels like the calm before the storm and it’s the first weekend since before the season that the UConn team finally gets to go out and let loose for a bit. They’re riding the height of winning another Big East title and even if it’s a little bittersweet that they did it without her, Paige is beyond the moon happy for her team. 

She turns up the music in her room and changes the lights for the sake of a little ambience, before sitting down at her desk, to call Azzi and do what little of her makeup she knows how to do. Normally she’d get one of the other girls or Kayla to do it, but she’d rather sacrifice a flawless makeup look then miss out on having Azzi tease her about how she still didn’t quite know how to do her eyeliner properly yet. 

The fact that it takes Azzi longer than the third ring to pick up should be Paige’s first warning sign but instead she’s sucking in a deep breath at the sight of her best friend who looks breathtakingly beautiful tonight. Paige’s heart stutters as she takes in Azzi’s face, the light layer of red lipstick (that Paige wants to kiss off), the blush-tinged cheeks (that Paige wants to caress delicately) and the perfectly done mascara on her eyelashes (that Paige wants to feel flutter against her own skin). 

She lets out a low appreciative whistle, “celebrating that Pac-12 championship in style huh?”

“Something like that,” Azzi bites her lip and really that should have been warning sign number two, “was there- was there something you needed?’

“I can’t just call you?” Paige asks, noticing the tension on Azzi’s face, “are you busy?”

“No it’s not-”

“She is actually,” a different voice cuts in aggressively and Azzi immediately gives whoever it is an exasperated look. Paige doesn’t know who it is, but she guesses it’s one of the UCLA players. It’s no secret they aren’t huge fans of her. They’d made that much clear the few times they’d met Paige during September, always regarding her with a wary eyes. It wasn’t their fault really, Paige understood their protectiveness, in fact she appreciated it more than they would ever understand. 

“Chill Angela.” 

“Are you not busy then?” the other voice who Paige assumes is Angela Dugalic says, clearly a little annoyed. And then Azzi’s phone is being shifted away from her and instead it’s Angela’s face that covers Paige’s screen. 

“Oh,” the blonde manages to get out, taken aback by the sudden change, “hi Angela.”

“Hi Paige,” the other girl says, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. 

“Angela,” there’s a clear warning in Azzi’s voice and Paige already knows, even before the words are let out into the open, that whatever Dugalic is about to say is going to tear her apart. 

“Azzi has a date tonight,” Angela pronounces the last words with a gleeful lilt. 

The world spins and Paige’s head spins with it, as she grips onto her desk for some semblance of stability. She can hear Azzi spluttering in the background as she tries to get her phone back but it’s of no use as the UCLA forward powers on. 

“With a really pretty girl,” Angela smirks at the camera, clearly trying to prove something, “Zoe’s really wonderful. You’d like her, Paige.”

Zoe. Recognition registers in Paige’s brain. She remembers seeing the name flashing on Azzi’s phone a couple of times, accompanied by a photo she never quite caught a glimpse of. But as she tended to do with most phone calls that came during her time with Paige, Azzi had simply just declined the call and texted whoever that she’d call her back later. And so Paige hadn’t really bothered caring about Zoe, chalking her up to being some random friend Azzi had made. But fuck, maybe she should have cared. 

“And Azzi really likes her I think. They’ve been tiptoeing around it for ages you know? But we all knew it was only a matter of time.”

A strangled noise escapes Paige’s throat and she tries her best to disguise it as anything but the cry of despair it is. It feels like there’s a thousand knives digging into her skin, pressing harder and harder until she has no blood left to bleed. 

“They’re gonna make the cu-”

“Give me my phone back Angela,” Azzi’s voice cuts in harshly and Paige hurriedly rushes to contort her features into a smile right before the camera’s back to facing her best friend. 

“So you’re all dressed up for a date then?” Paige manages to get out and the word date sounds like bile on her tongue. 

“Doesn’t she look lovely?” comes Angela’s voice again; the girl seemingly on a mission to break Paige as much as possible, “give her a proper look Az.”

“Angela,” Azzi hisses through gritted teeth. 

“N-no show me the fit,” Paige counters, because that’s what a best friend’s supposed to say right? Show me how fucking perfect you look for a girl that’s not me

Azzi hesitates, swallowing nervously, before she takes a couple of steps back so the camera captures all of her. And Paige wishes she’d never asked to be shown in the first place, hell she wishes she’d never bothered to call tonight. Because she thinks the image of Azzi’s casual light blue jeans and simple green off-the shoulder top will be etched in her mind forever, captioned with the words not for you. 

“You look lovely Azzi,” she whispers quietly, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Zoe won’t be able to keep her fucking hands off of you,” Angela supplies and this time the glare Azzi shoots her is murderous. 

“I think I hear Emily calling your name Angela.”

“I don’t-”

“Yes,” Azzi says pointedly, “yes you do.”

Angela rolls her eyes but doesn’t protest this time. She turns to the phone with a devilish grin, clearly feeling accomplished in being a menace, “nice talking to you Paige.”

She waltzes out, leaving Paige, Azzi and a silence that feels like it could drown them. 

“You could have told me,” the blond says after a second, averting her eyes from the screen, “aren’t dates the kind of thing best friends are supposed to tell each other?”

“Paige-”

“It’s good though- you-uh- you deserve a night out.”

“P-”

“Listen, I uh- I’m going out too so- I- umm- I better get going but-,” Paige takes in a deep breath, “have a- have wonderful time on your date Az.”

She hangs up before Azzi can reply, the concern in the younger girl's eyes becoming too much to bear. For a moment, she stares straight ahead at the wall, just processing. And then she lets herself fall apart. 

***

It’s 1 a.m., Paige is drunk and miserable and so fucking tired; it’s an extremely dangerous combination. Aaliyah and Amari had practically had to carry her to her dorm because she’d been stumbling far too much and everyone was worried she’d eventually fall flat on her face. Personally, Paige thought they just didn’t have enough faith in her. She wasn’t even that drunk, she couldn’t be. After all she could still feel that stupid Azzi-sized scar on heart and wasn’t the whole point of being drunk supposed to be not being able to feel? But she has to be drunk because sober her would know better than to do what she does next, would know better than to call Azzi when she has no control over herself. 

“Paige? Is everything okay? Are you okay,” Azzi’s voice is filled with concern when she answers.

“Azziiiii,” Paige slurs, “areyoustillwithyourdate?”

“What?”

“Are. you. still. with. your. date?” Paige pronounces each word slowly. 

“I- yeah. She’s in a different room. Paige, are you okay?” 

“Interesting,” the blonde remarks quietly, “you never picked up her calls when you were with me. And we weren’t even dating.”

She hears Azzi’s breath hitch on the other end, can almost picture her doing that nervous swallow of hers, “ I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“You didn’t care if she was okay then? Those times she called you?”

“That’s not- she didn’t call me at 1 a.m.” the younger girl justifies hollowly. 

“Bullshit,” Paige scoffs, “1 a.m. isn’t even that fucking late. Why is it so hard for you to admit you care about me waaaayyyyy more than you care about Zara or whatever?”

“Zoe. You’re drunk Paige, go to bed,” and Paige really should listen to the edge in Azzi’s voice.

“Where did y’all go?” she asks lightly, changing the subject, “c’mon Az, best friends share their date stories right?”

“Baltaire,” Azzi relents, choosing to let this battle go. 

“Oooh that restaurant we passed that one time wow,” Paige coos, “too fucking bad you hate fine dining huh? But she wouldn’t know that now would she? Because she doesn’t fucking know you.”

“Paige please,” Azzi breathes out quietly in a pained voice.

“But you know who does know you? Me. And I would have never taken you to some boring old fancy ass piece of shit restaurant like that.”

“Don’t-”

“I would have taken you on a picnic. Do you remember that park you loved, the one by my air bnb? There, that’s where I would have taken you. And I’d have gotten you supermarket sushi even though I fucking hate that shit but I know, I know, you like it. And flowers. Did she get you flowers? Because I- I would have. Roses and peonies and lilies, a whole fucking bouquet.”

And Paige is crying again, for the second time tonight, one hand gripping at her phone as the other one tries to wipe away the frantically falling teardrops. 

“And we’d stay at that park til the sun goes out and I’d take a polaroid of you in the sunset and I’d keep it forever. I swear Azzi, I’d keep it forever and I’d put it on my wall.”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, as if it’s the only word she knows, as if it’s the only word that matters. 

“I’d bring my laptop so that when it finally gets dark, we can watch a movie. You choose Az, whatever you want. And I’d get distracted and start playing with your hair or something and you’ll pretend it’s annoying you but you’d be smiling. Fuck I love your smile.”

“You can’t- you can’t just say these things Paige.”

“Why not? It’s the truth right- why can’t I say the truth?,” Paige says petulantly, “but hush okay I’m not- I’m not finished yet. And then, then we’d just lie under the stars and it'd just be you, me and the sky. Perfect.” 

Azzi lets out a broken sob and Paige hates it, she hates it but she keeps on talking. 

“And then I’d take you home and I’d kiss you,” she whispers the last bit like a confession, “everywhere. Fuck, I’d make it so good for you Az. So good. Everything you wanted, everything you needed, I’d give you all of it. I’d make you come apart on my fingers and then my tongue-”

“Shut up,” Azzi’s voice is suddenly cold and frosty and it feels like all the heat has been sucked out of Paige’s room as well, “shut up, shut up, shut up.”

“Azzi-”

“No,” Azzi all but yells, “you don’t get to say all of that to me.”

“Then who does? Her? Zia or whatever? Who the fuck even is she?” Paige spits out venomously.

“Zoe. Her name is Zoe and you wanna know she is Paige?” 

She should say no. She should apologise for interrupting Azzi’s date and hang up the phone, but no, Paige doesn’t do any of that, “enlighten me why don’t you.”

“She’s the girl who was there,” Azzi says, her voice cracking, “she’s the girl who held me last year when I was going through the worst time of my life. She was there when I couldn’t make a fucking shot and I thought maybe I’d never be good enough. She was there when I let the pressure and the media and all of it get to my head. She was there when I was crying my eyes out over losing the one person I was sure would always stay. She- she’s who you were supposed to be because she was there, and you weren’t.”

Paige isn’t sure if it’s the bitterness behind Azzi’s words or the brokenness of her sobs that is the reason for the ache in her own chest. All she knows is that she still remembers tearing her ACL, and she doesn’t think it hurt as much as this. 

“It was supposed to be you,” Azzi sniffles, “I wanted it to be you. Because I’d have let you- fuck- Paige- I’d have let you take me on a picninc and if you brought me sushi I’d have brought you your favorite mac and cheese. I- I know you don’t really care about flowers so I’d get you chocolate, the rum-filled ones that you love. And that sunset polaroid would have been a selfie of us, where you’re kissing my cheek and I’d have it framed. I’d pick out a movie but first- first you could watch whatever basketball game was on and you’d get exasperated when I don’t know the team because I’m literally a basketball player,” she lets out a wet laugh, “but I know you secretly like explaining the NBA to me. And then- then I’d have let you take me home and I’d let you take everything. Whatever you wanted, it’d be yours.”

The vivid image of a date that never happened fills every inch of Paige’s brain. She feels like she’s in a bad dream, trying so hard to reach for a happiness that keeps on evading her grasp. 

“But you weren’t there then Paige, and you aren’t here now.” 

“Azzi-” Paige chokes out. 

“Go to bed Paige,” the younger girl says, her voice shaky but adamant, ‘Get some sleep. Maybe you’re drunk enough that you won’t remember this when I call you tomorrow.”

“Right. So we’re gonna pretend this never happened. Again. We’ll just keep on pretending forever I guess,” Paige retorts bitterly. 

“Yes, we will. Because if I stop pretending, I don’t think I’ll be able to survive.”

***

The buzzer rings around Climate Pledge Arena as the UCLA women’s basketball team loses in the Elite 8 on a last second buzzer beater. Azzi’s face contorts into one of sheer disappointment, and in the stands, Paige feels her own heart drop. She’s not one to root for a team outside of her own and god knows what would happen if Nika found out that she’d been screaming her head off each time the Bruins, or at least one specific Bruin, scored, but for Azzi, well, there’s not many of her own rules that Paige follows when it comes to her best friend. 

It had taken a fair amount of convincing on Paige’s part to even be able to come to this game. Everyone had wanted to leave immediately after the Sweet 16 loss but Paige had insisted they needed to stay in Seattle, do something to get the team’s mind off of the terrible end to their season. And that wasn’t a complete lie because even if she hadn’t been able to help when they needed it on the court, she could try and help boost morale. But she knew her teammates weren’t fooled. They knew the schedule just as well as she did and they knew exactly what or better yet, who she wanted to stay for. 

On the court, Paige can tell Azzi’s fighting back tears. The brunette had given it her all, scoring an efficient 34 points and really the game could have gone any way. That last minute heave from the opposing team really probably shouldn’t have gone in, but at the end of the day the NCAA tournament was a lot about skill but also a little about luck. But Paige knows, Azzi isn’t thinking about any of that, too busy finding a way to blame herself even though she’d had a near perfect night. They were just too similar sometimes. 

Azzi’s eyes flicker through the stands, clearly looking for a familiar face. Paige resists the urge to run on to the court and pull the younger girl into her arms and soothe away the defeated look in her eyes, if only for the fact that Azzi doesn’t actually even know she’d figured out a way to stay back for this game. Despite being in the same city, they hadn’t been able to spend nearly as much time together and while Paige’s teammates had tried to be of some help, Azzi’s teammates had seemed determined to pull her away as much as possible. All of that on top of the fact that they’re still playing that stupid game of pretend had left Paige wanting for just one moment alone for the two of them. 

As soon as the UCLA team starts heading back to their locker room, and the crowd starts leaving, Paige scurries towards where she knows Azzi will be. Their assigned locker room isn’t that far from where UConn’s had been and Paige gets there in almost record time, her mind firmly planted on being there for Azzi. She’d missed so many opportunities, but this time, this time she’d be there. 

Azzi’s leaning against the wall, her eyes closed and Paige has to take in a breath at the sight of her. Sweat sheens against her tan skin and her gameday braids are falling apart just a little but still, she’s perfect. Before Paige can take a step towards her, there’s another girl, all dark hair and long legs, brushing past her, rushing to get to Azzi’s side. It’s like the world has stopped and yet is spinning too fast all at the same time, as Paige watches this girl, Zoe, pull Azzi, Paige’s Azzi, into her arms. 

After the night of the date (and everything else they’re ignoring), Paige hadn’t bothered to bring it up and Azzi had never said anything about it again. Naively, the blonde had thought that maybe that meant nothing much had transpired after the date, silently patting herself on the back for possibly even having had a hand in that. Except, the way Zoe holds Azzi isn’t fucking platonic and the way Azzi relaxes in Zoe’s arms, isn’t fucking friendly. 

“I”ve got you Az,” Zoe whispers into Azzi’s hair and Paige wants to die. She should look away, she should walk away but her feet seem to be glued to the ground. And she remembers the way Azzi’s eyes were searching the crowd and oh- she’d been looking for- Paige can’t even let herself complete the thought because she’s sure she’ll burst into flames the second she does. 

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Azzi says quietly to Zoe. To Zoe, and not Paige. If she could feel anything beyond the dagger twisting in her heart, maybe Paige would hear the way there’s still a tinge of disappointment in Azzi’s voice, as if she’s wishing it was someone else. 

It takes Zoe pressing a kiss into Azzi’s forehead, eliciting a sigh from the brunette for Paige to finally tear her eyes away. Her feet finally move and then she’s running faster than she has in a long time, ignoring the way it causes her muscle to ache. She can’t tell if her rapid blinking is to usher away the tears or to try and prevent the memory of Azzi with some other girl from welding itself into her eyelids. It blurs her vision and in the speed of things, she can barely tell where she’s going. Paige runs chest-first into a wall, bruising her elbow. Her phone slips out of her hands, falling to the ground with a loud thud, the screen protector cracking into pieces. 

And when Paige looks at the mess of her phone on the floor, she thinks it couldn’t possibly have cracked harder than this silly little stupid heart of hers.

[updownlately]

i hope he's home for you (even though i had to lose you)

| leah williamson x reader

~~~

“Leah, are you kidding me?”

You couldn’t believe this. You never thought you’d be put in a position where you’d have to fight for your girlfriend’s affection yet here you were, doing exactly that. 

You only got a shrug in response, the blonde shuffling on the couch, trying to get more comfy as she continued texting on her phone. 

“I’m going for a little over a month and you’re already replacing me?” The incredulous look on your face didn’t do your emotions justice, the thought of the blonde not cherishing your last few days together absolutely shocking you.

“It’s nothing serious, I promise. Plus, he’s cute, outgoing, and really friendly…it’s going to be a good time,” she replied, not bothering to look up from her phone.

The nonchalant retort didn’t have the comforting effect that the blonde had hoped, actions not lining up with words, only managing to irritate you further. 

Eyebrows furrowing, you got up from your place at your kitchen island, making your way to stand near her. “I hope you do realize that these are our last couple days together before I literally fly across the world for the tournament for a whole month and then some?”

Just barely getting a nod in reply, you huffed, face twisting in annoyance.

You continued, hoping the midfielder would rethink her decision. “You’re gonna miss me you know? Especially when he can’t cook any of your favourite foods. And when our usual Sunday dates don’t happen, you’re going to feel it.”

“It won’t be that bad…he’ll be good company while you’re gone…”

You threw your hands up in exasperation, not believing that these were the words coming out of Leah’s mouth. The same Leah that had practically moved into your apartment after you had made things official. The same Leah that would constantly plan date nights for the two of you, wanting to spend as much time together as possible during the season. The same Leah that would complain every morning when you’d leave your shared bed to only start the coffee pot for the both of you. The same Leah that was now treating you like a spare choice, too caught up in the novelty of the new to even bother to remember the good times you two shared thus far. 

Silence hung in the air, disbelief making you momentarily mute, the other girl too caught up in texting that verbal communication was a hindrance.

It was only when Leah spoke again that you snapped out of your bewilderment.

“Actually, I think I’m going to go out today with him, I’ve just texted Beth and she’s free too…”

You couldn’t believe it. You really couldn’t. This was actually happening. Throwing your head back, you took in a deep breath, one that Leah could hear even from her seat a handful of feet away.

“So what? You’re going to make time for him but not for me? That’s how important I am to you? I leave soon Leah!”

“Oh come on, you’re acting like I’ve gotten a new boyfriend or something!” It was Leah’s turn to be annoyed, the blonde turning towards you as she got up, mild amusement littering her face. 

“You practically have!” You whined back, shoulders dropping, foot gently stomping petulantly.

“Babe, Cheeto won’t be replacing you, he’s just going to keep me company while you’re gone.” Leah was fully smiling now, hands on her hips as she observed your little temper tantrum, it amusing her more than she’d ever let on.

You raised your eyebrows at the skipper, not pleased with her reply.  

“He’ll be here when I’m back…he’s not gonna go away.” You were aware that you sounded absolutely childish right now but the thought of him being here and getting all of Leah’s attention while you were oceans away didn’t seem fair to you.

“Love, trust me, you’ll like him, he’s full of love.” The fond smile Leah expressed as she spoke the words set an uneasy feeling in your stomach. 

“You realize he probably won’t like exercising right? He’ll be more trouble than peace? And what kind of name is ‘Cheeto’? It just sounds stupid.”

Leah couldn’t help but laugh at your last comment, the immatureness of it finally breaking her. 

“It’s not like I can move much anyways? And he’ll keep things interesting. Plus, I think the name’s fitting, he does look like a ‘Cheeto’.” 

With the blonde recovering from her ACL, you knew she was right. Another presence around would help. Still, it didn’t mean you had to like it.

Rolling your eyes, well aware that you had no retort, you turned away from the Englishwoman and hoped that your body language spoke your aversion.

You heard a gentle laugh behind you before the patter of Leah’s footsteps filled your ears, her hand coming to rest on your waist and turning you to face her quickly after.

Bringing both of her hands to intertwine with yours, the blonde waited for you to meet her eyes before speaking.

“Listen…I’m not replacing you. Especially not with Cheeto. Yes he’s a great puppy but he’s no you, okay? Also you love dogs, especially corgis. You’ll love him, I promise.”

Finally giving up your act, you let yourself be pulled into Leah, letting go of her hands in favour of wrapping them around her while she did the same.

“I hope he treats you better than I ever could,” you mumbled into her neck, a teasing smile present on your face as you cuddled further into her warmth.

Leah’s laugh rang melodically throughout the apartment, her arms wrapping tighter around you. “Oh shut it you.”

Grinning, you knew you wouldn’t mind having Cheeto around, glad that Leah had something to fill her heart while you were gone, even if you weren’t the one she was choosing. 

“You deserve the world times two and I hope Cheeto and I can give that to you…” 

Feeling Leah’s pull you impossibly closer at your whispered words, you sighed in comfort, contentness spreading through your body.

[hyper-fixated-delusions]

All is fair in love and Mario Kart.

Wanda Maximoff x Avenger fem!reader.

A/N: I hope you enjoy and I apologize for any mistakes! Also comments, reblogs, shares and likes are super appreciated, thank you! :)

Translation: “Sestra.” Sister.

“Detka.” Baby.

“Amor.” Love.

Word count: 1,446.

Masterlist.

You should have known.

You should have known agreeing to a Mario Kart tournament with the Avengers was a bad idea.

But you were excited to try out one of the many new versions of the game.

Excited at the prospect of the nostalgia it would bring as it reminded you of simpler times.

Times where you weren't too worried about the next big bad. Times where aliens weren't invading and wreaking havoc on earth.

Honestly, this was all just supposed to be innocent fun. You relaxing while you played your favorite childhood game.

But when Tony caught you playing in the TV room of the compound and he made a bet that you just couldn't refuse, you found it hard to back down, and as many of your other teammates joined, your girlfriend included, it all got too out of hand.

On one team it was Pietro, Natasha, Steve, Bucky, Peter and you.

On the other team it was Vision, Thor, Bruce, Clint, Wanda and Tony.

Once the tournament began, you all played like your lives depended on it, pouring out all of your skills into each round. The competitiveness arising in all of you a tenfold at the stakes that were given.

There was coercion, and threats being thrown around, anything to ensure a win that didn’t include using your powers, it was there and having both teams at a tie as the final round was about to commence, you can feel the tension in the air as the last two players are randomly chosen and you gulp when you realize it’s you versus Wanda.

“Alright lovebirds, it all comes down to you two,” Tony begins as you shake your arms up and down, bouncing on your toes as if you're about to enter the boxing match of your life. “Whoever wins this round ensures the win of their team. Remember the winning team has no chores for 3 months, losers must take on those chores, got it?” He says, and both you and Wanda nod, “okay, go!”

Beginning the round against your girlfriend had you nervous to say the least, Wanda showing promising skills from her previous rounds as she quickly picked up ways to ensure her success. But as you finish the first lap of the race you quickly realize you're definitely going to beat your girlfriend, your skills slightly better than hers as you’ve played many times before and your loud thoughts cause Wanda to throw you a quick side glare.

“So smug detka, already thinking you’ve won when there's still 2 more laps to go,” she says, accent prominent in her competitiveness.

“Sorry amor, but what can I say? I'm just that good,” you say, shrugging with a smirk as Wanda gapes when you hit her with a series of objects, making her character move onto last place.

“Oh, you are so going down sestra,” Pietro exclaims happily, bouncing in his spot.

“Shut it Piet,” Wanda grumbles angrily. “Baby,” the witch begins with a sweet voice, causing you to tense, “if I lose, just know that no kisses will be given to you for the 3 months that it takes for me to complete my punishment,” your girlfriend says in a singsong tone and her threat makes you falter, making you immediately go from 1st to 5th place.

“Whoa, no, no wait. You can't do that! You can’t take kissing away from me,” you pout, “that's not fair!”

Wanda merely shrugs, a smug smirk on her face, knowing that you can't live without her kisses.

“Okay, hey! No!” Natasha exclaims suddenly, snapping her fingers beside you, “focus up Y/L/N, because if we lose this tournament, I will make sure you don't get to kiss Wanda for 3 months, you got that?” The redhead threatens back and you gulp using your objects to make it back to first place.

It's the final lap and Wanda's character is in 2nd place trailing right behind you, you could feel the tension in the air at this moment, everyone holding their breaths as they await a winner.

Quickly you cast your eyes to the bottom corner of the screen and see that Wanda has one final shell in her arsenal as you have a banana peel and by the looks of the approaching finish line, you know for certain your girlfriend is going to use it on you to help ensure her win.

So what you do before she has a chance to hit you is, you place yourself right in front of her character and deploy the banana peel causing Wanda's character to spin out of control just before she has a chance to hit you with her shell, making you win first place.

“Fuck yeah! Way to go Y/N,” someone from your team exclaims, as the rest of the group have their hands thrown in the air in celebration, rounding you immediately to hug you for ensuring their victory.

As you and your team celebrate your win Pietro suddenly jumps up onto the coffee table.

“Do you know how many basic bitches would kill to be like me,” he says as he fake sweeps his shoulders, “so many! I am a king, I am unstoppable, I rule the world!” He exclaims and the opposing team roll their eyes at the speedster’s antics.

“Oh please Piet, you didn't even win one of your Mario Kart rounds, get down,” Wanda says, pulling her brother off the table.

Smiling widely due to your victory and your girlfriend's actions you approach Wanda and pucker up your lips jokingly, “celebratory kiss?” You ask, as you get close to her face.

But before you can reach her lips, Wanda's hand comes in between your faces, “no, shut up, I'm mad at you for winning, so get away from me,” the redhead says, shoving your face softly causing you to let out a laugh.

“I'm sorry amor,” you begin, approaching your girlfriend slowly, “but I had to win, Nat is scary!" You say as you reach her, your arms go around Wanda's waist, “I definitely did not want to know what she was going to do to prevent me from kissing you for three months if I lost us the tournament,” you whisper, eyes quickly glancing towards the redhead assassin that's standing across the room and Wanda chuckles softly, arms going around your neck to play with the baby hairs at your nape.

“Oh, my poor big baby,” your girlfriend teases with a smirk and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, that’s easy for you to say, she didn't threaten you! She may be small, but she's mighty,” you say, whispering softly in order to prevent your words from reaching the assassin's ears.

“Oh really, so I’m small? You want to start shit Y/L/N, is that it?” Natasha asks, as she suddenly stands behind you.

You turn around quickly, “no. No! I'm not starting anything! Also how the fuck are you already behind me?” You exclaim, eyes wide in shock and fear, “and hey, I said small, but mighty! So please don't hurt me,” you say, going behind Wanda for protection and the team laughs at your antics due to your fear of Natasha and the height difference between you and your girlfriend, your frame still in clear view behind Wanda.

“You won us the tournament, which means no chores for three months, so you're safe for now, but next time I won't be so kind,” Natasha says, a teasing glare on her face.

“Okay, okay. I'm sorry,” you say hands up in surrender, then you grab Wanda's hand and softly pull her towards you, “also, you know what? I'm just going to go to bed before I put my foot in my mouth again, so bye. Goodnight losers, enjoy your chores,” you say grinning smugly as you walk away from the group. Suddenly stopping when you feel Wanda stop from beside you, her hand being pulled out of your grasp and you turn to see a frown on your girlfriend’s face as a slight glare is directed at you, “oh shit, wait, no, not you baby, not you. They’re the losers,” you say, smiling sheepishly.

“Hey, so uh, where's that foot at Y/L/N?” Clint teases with a laugh.

“Hey, so uh, mind your business Clint,” you retort, blushing red as you turn to look at the witch, “baby, come on. I was talking about them being losers, not you,” you say as Wanda begins storming away from you, “Max, come on amor, I swear I wasn’t talking about you,” you exclaim as you jog to catch up to your girlfriend.

[yanxidarlings]

hello !! I've been really interested in your "not slytherin" writing and i think i have reread it more than 20-ish times hahahah since it's really good and you're the reason why i am invested in all these fan characters (since i didnt see what their appeal was before reading your work).

and now speaking of it, I'm now thinking about a specific "what if?" scenario, and that is; what if the suffering the reader goes through becomes so much to the point it transforms them into an obscurial? they have pretty much oppressed all their emotions, all their negativity, for four years— and it broke them. and the angst would be so good for this. the reader would definitely be more than distrustful. they're afraid that since their name has already been burnt off their own family; they would soon be expelled or even worse taken into the ministry for how dangerous they are to the other students. and this would definitely up the yandere factor to another level. they're aware theyre at fault for most of the reader's suffering, and that a single trigger would cause them to burst but then they can't do a single fucking thing about it or else.

not a request, but it's something ive been thinking about for a long time now !! (I'm really new to the hp fandom and ur writing definitely made me want to read more into them so I'm glad i stumbled upon it suddenly ^^)

dude, broski, broskilenski, ur a wizard of some sort because HOW ELSE COULD YOU READ MY MIND

i was considering making the reader an obscurial (my favourite fanfiction trope by far) but hesitent incase it was too farfetched but I HAVE BEEN GIVEN A SIGN

was sitting on not slytherin aye p2 but this ask has given me the inspiration to write

so without further adieu, with compliments to the other not slytherin p2 ask

jaythes1mp asked:

Could you do a part two of your latest fic (at this time) — YANDERE SLYTHERIN BOYS: NOT SLYTHERIN, AYE?

Where all the sudden suffocating affection they’re showing him after years of tournament makes him leave Hogwarts because he’s so terrified. He knows they couldn’t have changed, since they’re still threatening anyone near him. But once news gets around to them that he’s leaving for good? How would they take the news? And if they learn that he’s been disowned from his family? Would that be a good or bad thing — because now they can’t arrange a marriage. And it would be harder to find him if he got out of their grasps.

Would they be forced to team up? Would they force him into an unbreakable vow or blood pact??

Please do my request, I’ll beg. Just ask, I will actually get on my knees and beg. 🙏🙏🙏🙏

i present

YANDERE SLYTHERIN BOYS: NOT SLYTHERIN, AYE? P2

“remember, you have to do anything to be slytherin, no matter what it takes” draco's words replayed in m/n's head. he'd replayed that sentance so much it had become distorted, is that even what he said m/n thought to himself, watching the train pass by.

under his eyes were bags the size of boulders, he hadn't slept in days. not since..

"excuse me, sir" a voice rung in his head. m/n shook his head, he wanted it all to go away, go away, go away- "mister, i'm gonna have to ask you for ID" somesort of internal wiring within him snapped "GO AWAY" m/n screamed, finally turning to face to the person- man.. muggle police officer, that had been addressing him.

the officer moved back, taking a strange device off his uniform and speaking into it "i'm gonna need back-up, barkley" whilst the man was engaged, m/n made a run for it.

"GET BACK HERE YOUNG MAN" the police officer bellowed, chasing after the teenage boy.

running through, down the subway and onto the train tracks, the officer gave up the pursuit. sooner or later the boy would be run over by an oncoming train in the tunnels.

after running for who knows how long, m/n finally slowed to a walking pace. then he stopped. the sound of a horn filled his ears, the pitch black tunnel illuminated by the vehicles headlights. i

it was getting closer

m/n looked around, there was nowhere to go in the narrow tunnel

closer

tears filled his eyes, but instead of sobbing he began laughing, only to break out into a fit of sobs and then revert back to laughter.

it was too close

suddenly a BANG was heard as the train came to a stop, the tunnel filled with black mist, which had somehow crushed the head of the train.

it was not natural, it was.. dark magic.

• it was on the front page of the daily prophet the next day 'OBSCURIAL SIGHTING IN SOUTH LONDON SUBWAY' obscurials were no common occurance, the last one was reported in the 1930's, new york.

• it wasn't a cured illness, no, the circumstances of it's development had simply become less common. children of all blood status' had access to education in order to facilitate their powers, and there were muggleborn programs across the world to ensure they did not develop one either.

• it had the ministry stumped. there were no leads on the obscurus, nor was a body found to sugget the outburst had caused the hosts death.

• albus dumbledore was no stranger to obscurials, he had lost so much to them, his sister, his nephew — but he knew well what power the host of one held. and the key role one could play in the coming war.

• which is why he had to find the obscurial before the ministry, or lord voldemort did.

"i am not here to hurt you, m/n" the headmaster called out, slowly approaching the young wizard, who's wand was drawn. "what spell do you plan to use, child?" the older man chimed, it was no secret m/n l/n was never the best with applied magic, like he was with potions or magical creatures

m/n's wand arm shook, "petrificus totalus" upon speaking the words, his wand shot out a spell, of which dumbledore blocked. hitting into the ground, the concrete began to degrade.

terrified, m/n dropped his wand, eyes glassy and wide "i didn't- i have to go" he stuttered out

"there are people who will hurt you, who will use you as a weapon" dumbledore moved closer to the boy who was now shaking "i can help, you can help, you don't have to be the monster the obscurus compels you to be" they were now face to face, or beard to cheek, as m/n couldn't break his eyes away from the concrete.

when the boy nodded, the headmaster took his arm, and a loud POP sounded through the air.

the next day, m/n attended breakfast as if he had not been missing for the past two weeks.

the headmaster had given him his own room under the guise of spacing issues, perhaps having an escape would make this year less hellish, or maybe spending too much time alone would exuberate his growing instability.

at least he could kill one of his tormenters without any witnesses now.

a couple people stared at him as he made his way to the great hall, lovegood had even greeted him. albeit she held the quibbler she had with her close to her chest.

"salazar!" he heard a familiar voice exclaim from behind him, arms wrapping around him "where have you been, l/n" he didn't like the way malfoy was looking at him, it was soft "i thought- i thought you had done something stup-"

m/n was quick to shove off malfoys embrace, rather roughly, before turning around to walk away.

he was pulled back, he now saw malfoys eyes were glassy, as if he was about to cry. what a baby, m/n thought, he wasn't listening to whatever bollocks was coming out malfoys mouth, instead he just glared "and i'm sorry if i was the reason-"

"malfoy, just go cry about this to the house elves, they get paid to care i don't"

and with that, m/n was off, ignoring zabini and nott who were staring at him as he shoved past.

• as the days went by, his tormentors wouldn't leave him alone, but they weren't doing what they always had, they were being nice. which scared him even more. perhaps because niceness was so foreign or because he knew it had to be a ploy for their next big trick.

• he wanted to be left alone by them but there was no way out. they held him in chokeholds they called hugs and suffocated him with what they called kisses.

• they sat with him in class and one of them was always partnered up with him, but they just wanted to sabotage his grades, and get him expelled.

• they were no longer hostile towards him but towards each other, whenever one caught him with another, they'd fight each other with wits or fists.

• they dragged him to their dorm every night and drew sticks to decide who he would be stuck with for the night. he never slept those nights, they were just waiting for him to fall asleep so they could do something horrible.

• but he rarely ever slept at all these days, which is what contributed to the paranoia that led him to leaving.

• the only reason he stayed was for headmaster dumbledore, who had been attempting to help him learn to control the obscurus, to no avail. when the headmaster was outcast by the ministry, there was no reason to stay and wait to get caught for what he was.

"do you understand your fault, mr l/n" the sickeningly sweet sound of umbridges voice filled his ears, it was more painful than the cuts inflicted on him by the quill he had been forced to write with.

blood was trickling down to the floor, the words that he had been made to write indecipherable, covered in the blood they had drawn. "i must not disrespect the high inquisitor" he uttered, teeth clenched.

"i don't think you understand, mr l/n, twenty more lines"

he remained still, staring at the blood on the carpet, then at the decorative plates embeded with cats, and then at umbridges face.

"i quit"

"pardon, mr l/n?"

m/n stood up out of his chair, dropping the quill on the floor "i'm leaving hogwarts" he threw his wand on the table he had been forced to maim himself at, before storming out of the room.

• the news soon reached the slytherins that their beloved m/n had left the school, leaving them bewildered.

• when draco tried to find the reader by having his father get in contact with the l/n's, it finally hit them that m/n had been disowned, rendering their previous efforts to keep him useless.

BLAISE ZABINI

• blaise is probably the most crushed. his entire plan involved arranging a marriage with the reader, which was now impossible. but what upsets him more is that m/n never even told him. five months and not one mention of being disowned.

• he's mad at the reader until he comes to know the reason for the reader being disowened - because of all he and the other slytherins had done to make it seem like he was a blood traitor.

• blaise hated himself for being a part of it all, but above all, he hated the other slytherins for starting it all. it was draco's fault they all started tormenting him, it was mattheos fault they took it to the extreme.

DRACO MALFOY

• draco had his suspicions from the moment m/n returned, his father had mentioned in passing about the l/n's and how dissapointed they were in their son. but it usually ended in lucius praising draco for being such a good son, so he had never paid it much mind.

• it was his fault, he knew it. he hated feeling powerless but that's what he felt as his father told him m/n hadn't gone back home. m/n didn't have a home. he could be out there all on his own, exposed to the dangers of the muggle world..

• his obsession only grew after m/n left hogwarts, every moment of every day he wondered where he was, if he was okay, if he was with anyone. if he was with anyone he'd end them.

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

• enzo had been told by his parents a few months ago they were unable to arrange a marriage because m/n had been disowned. not that he told anyone else, let them think they have him whilst lorenzo makes m/n fall in love with him.

• except his every advance was met with rejection or hostility. and when m/n left for good he was devastated, how were they supposed to live out their love story now?

• lorenzo confronts the other slytherins when the news m/n had left reached them, which is what led to the realization that they were all sickly obsessed with the ravenclaw.

MATTHEO RIDDLE

• something had been strange about m/n the moment he returned, mattheo saw it in his eyes. whether it was what he had gone through the previous years still haunting him, or something else, mattheo tries to get m/n to talk to him, but he's.. mattheo, who once broke m/n's ribcage from beating him.

• it was impossible to foster any trust no matter what he did. he tries to talk about his own struggles, his cruel father and upbringing. he tries to treat m/n like a porcelain doll, but the walls never go down.

• hell hath no rage like a riddle scorned, mattheo would have killed umbridge if tom hadn't stopped him. but he wasn't done with just her, the l/n's were next on his path of rage, and there was little anyone could do to stop him from inflicting a painful death on them

THEODORE NOTT

• theo could barely handle m/n's reluctance to warm up to him, it took every bit of strength in him not to yell and force m/n into opening up, accepting his affection, but m/n not being there at all? theo goes off the rails.

• he fears the worst, what if.. m/n.. theo thinks to himself every moment he's not thinking about how to get him back. when draco tells him m/n was disowned, he broke down crying in the bathroom when he was alone later.

• the world was not safe for a young wizard with no wand or money. what if the dark lord went after him for being a blood traitor. theo went with mattheo to threaten umbridge, and figure out where m/n would have gone.

TOM RIDDLE

• tom could see all the pain m/n was going through when he used legilimency on him. he saw the abuse, the torment, the self hatred, and he knew what the reader had been through and become.

• he's furious that m/n's own parents would disown him, as if he was disposable. it reminded him too much of his own father. but he puts his emotions aside to focus on what really mattered, finding and keeping m/n.

• tom was the only one who had figured out m/n's condition, and used it to his advantage, telling his father that the reader was the obscurus the ministry had been looking for, making m/n voldemorts new target for capture.

tracking down an obscurial was not as simple as the dark lord had anticipated it to be, which is why he delegated the task to his eldest son who had first hand experience with the boy, m/n l/n.

coming to a stop as the sight of the boy filled tom vision, the young death eater watched as m/n stared down his reflection in the water. tom slowly came closer, wand at the ready, until his own reflection revealed his presence.

"you look horrible" the boy turned to face tom as he spoke "you here to kill me, riddle?" m/n sounded resigned, like he had already accepted it.

but that was not what tom was there for. "the dark lord wants you within his ranks" tom stated, avoiding m/n's dead gaze. "what the dark lord wants does not concern me" m/n took a step back, he was scared, tom could tell.

"are you going to make this difficult for me, m/n?" tom took a step closer, snaking an arm around the males waist.

before m/n had the chance to try and stab him in the eye with his own wand, tom stunned him, knocking him out, as lord voldemort came out of the shadows "well done, son" tom looked down at m/n's unconscious face as they apparated. you'll love me oneday.

• the readers condition certainly complicates things for the slytherins, it's no longer simply just subjugate him whether he likes it or not, the readers stability is the difference between life or death, freedom or azkaban for them.

• he becomes the dark lords puppet project, a weapon to use against the order of the phoenix and a tool to keep the future of the death eaters loyal.

• he never returns to hogwarts, tom made sure he was outted as the obscurial so that he'd never have anywhere to run, everywhere he could go he would be seen as a threat, a monster.

• an all-out war breaks out bewteen the slytherins once they have the reader in their grasp again. no one is willing to relent, m/n belongs to them. not the others, them.

• the slytherins would slowly come to the realisation there was no single 'winner', none of them could ever have a normal life with him now the dark lord was back and he had developed an obscurus.

• instead the focus would switch into keeping m/n safe, from voldemort, from himself, from the ministry, from everything.

TOM RIDDLE

• out of all of them, tom can handle m/n's obscurus the best. mostly because he's level headed enough not to set him off. sure he has some sadistic tendencies but at the cost of his own, and surrounding lives?

• tom's obsession was exuberated by the obscurus, it made his darling all the more appealing. to hold such power over someone so powerful is what drives him to sometimes provoke the obscurus, to see what potential m/n truly holds.

• sometimes he goes to far and gets someone or himself seriously injured. he wants to help his darling learn to control the obscurus, but it's hard to acheive when he himself also wants to control his darling.

THEODORE NOTT

• theo is frankly horrified when he finds out m/n had developed an obscurus. he had only ever heard stories about obscurials dying young, after an outburst they can't control.

• he wonders how long m/n had suffered with it for. in the back of his mind, he hopes it was before hogwarts, or else he truly was an absolute piece of shit, to help torment the one he loves most into such a despairful illness.

• theo spends the time he's not with his darling searching through the old pureblood libraries for even a hint of a cure. he wanted to be with his darling forever, but the oldest obscurial only ever lived until 23. theo won't stop until he can figure out how to get rid of the obscurus.

MATTHEO RIDDLE

• mattheo knows he's most likely the reason, above all the other slytherins, for the readers affliction. he was the one who chased him into dark hallways and used the torture curse, the one who said the nastiest things, the one who went the furthest with the torment.

• he wishes he could take all his darlings pain away. because one wrong word, one accidental touch, could send him over the edge. a world without his darling is what scares him the most, above everything fucked up in the wizarding world.

• so he treats m/n like a single bump would shatter him. it's difficult, mattheo isn't exactly the super soft type, but he tries, he knows if any of the slytherins caught m/n looking upset around him they'd end him.

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

• enzo underestimates the readers condition, until he finally see's it for himself one day when snape had called m/n a freak, and he exploded. safe to say, it terrified enzo.

• he's under the impression that if he loves m/n enough, the obscurus will go away. deep down he knows it won't, but it helps him justify the heap of affection he doses his darling in. his heart breaks when he's pushed away and he knows pushing back could result in the worst.

• lorenzo is the readers number one caretaker. he always reminds them to eat and get sleep and not to stress about anything. he tries to treat them as normally as possible but it gets difficult when the obscurus mentality kicks in and m/n starts talking about killing them all.

DRACO MALFOY

• draco isn't quite sure how to approach his dear darling after finding out he's an obscurial. draco is overcome with guilt for the hand he had in it, and abominably frustrated he can't just force the reader into doing what he wants.

• when he becomes a death eater he begins to fear for his darlings safety, he hears what the dark lord says about his plans including m/n, and it scares him. there's no regard for m/n's safety or survival, the dark lords only goal is to set m/n off when he takes hogwarts for a quick and easy victory.

• draco tries to get closer to m/n by playing the dependent rich boy, who doesn't know how to do anything for himself. draco figures that if m/n starts to feel responsible for him, it'll be harder for him to leave or say no.

BLAISE ZABINI

• blaises mother told him to stay far away from m/n when she found out. if it were anyone else he would take her advice, but this was his darling, and he could never abandon him over a small imperfection.

• he's the easiest to be around among them all, he doesn't feel the need to always been touching or talking to the reader which is usually what sets him off.

• blaise tries to help m/n settle back into normal life (normal meaning non socially isolated endlessly tormented), but years of torment has taken it's toll in more ways than one. sometimes m/n will accuse blaise and the others of the strangest things, but they all have to take it in stride, or else risk an outburst.

[challenger-fan-club]

We can’t do this to Art

((You’re left alone after a party with Patrick Zweig and we can’t do this to Art))

Art left the party early. He’s a good boy who needs his sleep ahead of the tournament. He had maybe three drinks and then got an early night. It’s what you should have done but instead it’s two am and you’re semi drunk and left alone with Patrick Zweig in his room. You don’t remember everyone else leaving and you definitely should have left before now but there was still beer and Patrick makes you laugh. You didn’t know why he didn’t kick you out or get another girl to stay to keep him company. As Arts girlfriend, you had heard all of his stories. You thought that he thinks of you as one of the boys more than anything. He kept switching the music until he found something he liked.

“So, cmon, what is it about Art you like so much?” He bit his lip asking the question. “You know Art, he’s smart and sweet and kind.” Patrick nodded with your words. “Not sexy?” He prodded. “Of course.” You said. “What’s he like?” Patrick sat closer to you. You queried him, not really sure what he was asking, not really sure that THATS what he was asking. “He’s sweet and kind… you know, considerate.” You shrugged your shoulders at him. “I don’t think that’s the compliment you think it is.” Patrick laughed. “I can imagine him being a baby in bed, you should have seen the first time I beat him at tennis, he sobbed himself to sleep.” He was smirking as you shared the last beer. “I didn’t say he was a baby. You’re twisting my words.” You laughed. “No but cmon, he is a baby. Cherub faced, puppy eyes, constantly needs attention.” You held back a laugh. “Stop, he a great boyfriend.” Your eyes lingered on Patrick a little too long. “Yeah but he’s not great fuck.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Not everything is about sex Patrick, Art and I have a connection and trust and respect.” Patrick got closer to you as he switched the beer between you and him, allowing him to take his drink. “It’s not a relationship without good sex y’know. It’s friendship, it’s roommates.” You scoffed at his words. “Look I know you don’t get it but…” Patrick looked slightly hurt by your words. “I get it.” You took the beer from him. “I just think you both deserve to have great sex.” He shrugged off the words. “We have good sex!”

Patrick wrinkled his nose at the thought. “But it’s not hard, rough, toe curling, screaming so hard that the neighbours worry sex though is it?” He closed the gap between you, almost touching. You didn’t answer the question but looked down at his lips. “He doesn’t make you beg to cum, bet he doesn’t even know how to make you cum hard all over him.” He moved the hair from your next. “Poor Artie, didn’t even know how to touch himself until I taught him, bet I could teach him how to ruin you.” He whispered the words in your ear as his nose touched your ear lobes and lips gently on your neck. You had to try control your breathing as his words were like music to your ears. “We can’t do this to Art.” You whispered back, afraid to move your face. “You’re not doing anything.” He started kissing your neck, rough and sloppily as his hand started to run your back.

You still didn’t say anything as he kissed your neck other than letting out a ‘mhm’ as he kissed you. “Big bad Patrick will do everything, and you’re just being a good girl, taking it.” He almost growled the words as you sank into his kisses. His hands moved roughly over your body as he pulled the collar of your dress down, exposing your chest. Patrick grabbed your nipples roughly pulling them and rubbing them in between his fingers. He had manoeuvred himself behind you, pulling you on his lap without his lips leaving your neck. You could feel yourself relax under his touch as you moaned at his touch. You could feel how hard he was while you were on his lap. “Suuuch a good girl.” You could feel yourself instinctively grinding your hips against his rock hard cock. He put one hand on your thighs to hold you closer. “See, you’re not doing annnything.” He started thrusting his hips back to you as you gasped against him. His fingers trailed along the inside of your thigh until he reached your wet, underwear.

“Not doing anything yet you’re still desperate for me aren’t you?” His words made you moan, almost involuntarily as he continued to tease you. He reached his hand up from your chest and pulled chunks of your hair backwards to give him more access to your neck, more control. “You’re such a good little cockslut for me.” He thrusted harder, straining against his boxers. “If you want to stop just say.” He teased. Knowing full well you weren’t going to tell him to stop. He shoved you slightly so you were off his knees so he could take his trousers and shorts off and then pulled you back on his lap. He pushed himself inside of your underwear, but not inside you. “You’re so fucking wet for me.” He panted as he thrusted against you. You could feel his length and thickness and couldn’t help but moan as he took control of your body. “Beg for me.” Patrick commanded and you did as he told. You were so needy for him, pushing your thighs together so you could get more, trying to get him to slip inside you as you pleaded. Patrick held your hips whilst biting your neck. “Fuck me, please, god I need you, fuck, I want you so fucking badly, please just fuck me.” The words fell out of your mouth, you couldn’t really think straight.

“Good girl.” He growled in your ear and he continued to thrust, tormenting you with his cock. “Are you thinking about him now?” You were moaning as each thrust slid against you. Your pants got louder and louder and Patrick pulled your nipple a little harder. “Tell me.” He picked up the pace of the thrusts. “No.” You shook your head. “No, because you wouldn’t do this to Art right?” He wrapped his arm around you and put his hand into your underwear, reaching for your clit. His fingers brushed against you as he continued to tease. You felt a pang of guilt but it felt too good in that moment. “Cmon good girl, say it.” You were bouncing on his lap now as he pushed himself against your underwear. “I’m not… I’m not doing anything.” Patrick was smirking against your back. “Because you’re a toy being used.” He was relentless. “Because I’m a toy being used.” He moved his fingers closer on your clit and adjusted himself so you sat down on his cock. You squealed as you took him in you. “Good girl.” He wasn’t stopping until you came and it was close. The teasing, the dirty talk, the betrayal was all getting you so worked up. “You want to cum for me don’t you?” He teased, he knew exactly what you wanted. What you needed. He put his head over your shoulder so you could see him, you turned to look at him. You felt like you hadn’t had your eyes opened for the entire time. “This isn’t about what you want.” He groans as he continued to fuck your over and over again, making you beg for him. Each request he denied you, so much so that you were close to tears with each thrust. You felt like he was never going to let you. Never going to give you what you need. “Come for me.” He whispers gently against your ear and you do as he wished, finally able to release what you had been begging for.

“Arts not going to find out.” He whispered to you as he finished, filling you, enough that you could feel him dripping down the side of you. You gasped trying to steady your breath. “God, you’re so fucking good.” He whispered to you as he held you on his cock. He inspected the bruises that he left on your neck. “We will have to do something about your neck, sorry, got carried away.” He put his head against your shoulder. “Maybe your chest too, Jesus you bruise like a peach.” The guilt falls on you immediately after you finished. “What the fuck have we just done?” You say, still wrapped around him.

[tenderlyrenjun]

Playing Video Games

"Jisung, this is so difficult," you huff, tossing the control on the couch, narrowly avoiding his face.

Your boyfriend rotates his head 90-degrees on your lap, backwards, to look up at the deep frown settling in your eyebrows.

"I don't understand why you like it" you pout, sinking deeper into the cushions.

Jisung laughs (and you frown deeper) and grabs the controller before sitting up with you. "It's the thrill of the game, baby." He takes both your hands in his and adjusts them neatly across the joysticks. You wiggle them under his fingers, clacking them loudly until he laughs again. "See, you know how to move them. You just have to get the timing right."

"You just have to get the timing right," you mock, with an exaggeratedly high pitch that doesn't quiet match your boyfriend’s deep voice. You sigh and let the controller drop into your lap again as you bury your face in his firm chest. "Can't we do something else? I'm sorry for making you die in Wizard 101 last night, okay? Next time l'll patiently wait for you to fuck me in your bed after your tournaments."

Jisung laughs once more at you, the entire sound vibrating through his heartbeat, shaking you out of his arms. "First of all, baby, it was Overwatch." He squishes your cheeks in both hands. "And second, this is just me showing you something that I like - not Overwatch, but it's something I think is fun."

You scrunch your nose. "Now I feel bad for making fun of it." You slap his hands off your face. "How am I supposed to know the difference between Overwatch and Wizard 101? Are they the same thing?"

Jisung gasps. "Baby. I love you,” he says, almost as if reminding himself. He picks up your hands and stares into your eyes. "Please don't make us go through computer games tonight too. I don’t think we’d be able to sleep.”

And you snatch your hands back too, rolling your eyes to the ceiling.

"Jisung, I'm serious," you whine, drawing out the last syllable. “I don't get why you like these games."

"Remember when we had sex in my car?"

"What does that have to do with anything??"

Jisung kisses your knuckles. "Babe, please."

You roll your eyes again. Incorrigible. "Yes, I remember every time we've had sex in your new car since you bought it this year."

"’Cause it’s fun!" he reminds you. "It's like a video game." he emphasizes. "We're sneaking around and getting the adrenaline pumping."

"I get that" you tell him, "but I know how to have sex with you." You point at the TV. "I don't know how to play first person shooter games."

"Maybe, you're just not getting enough adrenaline."

"What is that supposed to mean - Park Jisung!" you gasp.

Jisung situates himself on the ground between your legs, his large hands pushing open your thighs. He gets your underwear off your ankles, leaving you in just a t-shirt and restrictive bra. Your breathing labors, just watching him, as he runs all his fingers up and down your pussy. His middle finger barely strokes from your clit to hole, leaving phantom feelings in its wake.

“Jisung, love, what - what are you doing?”

He puts one of your knees on his broad shoulder. Instinctively, you tighten behind his neck, dragging him forward.

“Giving you a little adrenaline,” he says with a boyish smile. Jisung gently pushes your other thigh more open and situates himself a little taller, breath exhaling through his nose onto your nerves. He really does have a perfect nose, perfect face - perfect lips that kiss and bite and pull at your clit, all so gently. You scratch your way into his bangs, brushing back all his hair until you can fist his crown. But he stops you. He pecks your wet pussy airily, giving you suction-less pressure before looking up at you with that same boyish smile. “Grab the controller.”

“Huh? What?” You close both your legs around his cheeks. “Jisung, you can’t be serious.” He just smiles at you, eyes sparkling like Puss in Boots. And you groan, picking it off the cushion. “What now?”

“Now”, he emphasizes, unzipping his own hoodie to show off his defined chest and yanking your hips to the edge of the couch, “you play the game.” He slips his third finger inside your hole, ring and all, knuckles hitting your lips. “You’ll see why I like you giving me head during my games, baby.” He wetly kisses your clit and slips in his middle finger as the video game music picks up.

You throw your head on the couch, shutting your eyes at the ceiling for a second. His two fingers find a steady pace, gradually sheathing all the way inside. And when he does, Jisung twists his wrist ceiling-side up, and chafes your roof with the pads of his fingers.

“Baby, you’re gonna die.”

“Huh?”

Jisung rubs your hip with his free hand and lifts off your cunt with a smack of his lips. “In the game, baby. You’re gonna die in the game.”

"Jisungie," you pout. There are so many better things to be doing right now, at this pressing moment.

"Come on, baby." Jisung mouths your pussy, hot breath evilly replacing his tongue. "You'll like it, promise. Just try. You’ll see why I like it.”

And see, you do.

You hate that he's right. Only a little though, because you make him swear that you will cum by the end of the round. He just smirked at you, saying something about how he wins entire tournaments before you even finish.

Jisung balances between directing you through the first campaign and fingering you. His words breathing hotly down your ear. He moved you onto your stomach sometime between your second respawn and your first orgasm, finding it difficult to help you win from the ground.

"Baby," he grunts, shallowly thrusting to get your attention. Jisung straddles behind your hips, pushing your ass cheeks up for a better view of your cunt taking him so well. “You have - you have to hide around the corner. There’s a chest there, too, and - shit, stop clenching, you need to heal.”

Your character runs in circles, almost glitching the game as your thumbs toy with the joysticks, simply flicking them back and forth. “Jiji,” you whine again, mouth parted. You pause the game and drop your forehead onto your arms. “Can I cum first? Please? I’ve already done so much. I think I’m better at the game now.” Or you would be, if you could focus. Though, now, you understand why he skips out on the winners' ceremonies and literally throws you on his bed; he is never really, otherwise, so rough with you.

"Just a little more, baby," he shakes his head. "You're so close to the end."

"I'm so close to cumming."

You bury your face in the cushions and dip your back a bit lower to push his dick further inside your pussy. Jisung only really has one thing to focus on right now: you. He guides you through the game, noting every detail about your game and body, telling you where to go and how to react. But it's hard. It's more difficult than when you first started - sitting on the couch with his head in your lap. He would kiss your knee every time you missed a shot or give you a slight praise whenever you respawned. And he keeps it up, while fucking you.

Jisung plants his fists close to your hips. He leans down to your ear, gently biting the helix before whispering, in his deep, raspy voice, "Pick up the game, baby. You're. Almost. There, fuck." He punctures every syllable with an inch of his dick until all of him rests inside you again.

"Jisung," you sniffle. "I'm gonna cry, please just let me cum."

He only smirks, pulling out slightly. "Cute."

Ugh. You groan into your wrists, biting superficially into the bone. Your boyfriend - the freak - would probably enjoy that - you crying, and you know he has no problem withholding those sharp dancer moves. So, you listen and obey, and pick up the damn PlayStation controller.

As you restart the game, someone steals the first aid chest that Jisung told you to grab, eliciting a snarky 'I told you so' in your ear and forcing you to endure the rest of the game on quarter health. You run around random buildings, biting your lip to not moan too loudly and ruin your own concentration. But still, you can feel your heart rate beat erratically and your cunt abrade the dip in the couch cushion. And fuck, he's right. Jisung is right. Each time you narrowly dodge an attack or finally make your own kill, your entire body tingles; your pussy throbs; your nipples get more sensitive, regardless of what Jisung does - not to say that he doesn't do much.

Your boyfriend steadily pounds your cunt, grinding his pelvis on your ass each time. His balls somehow sneak under your thighs, hitting your clit at each thrust. And he gets as affected by the game as you do. Often, when you are the one on your knees, under his gaming desk, Jisung will accidentally bang his thigh on the keyboard drawer, followed both by rapid clicking and shoving his cock deeper down your throat. You only partially understood it, that he wanted the game over as soon as possible to fuck you for being needy and impatient. But this shows you a whole other side. The urgency and thrill mix together, prompting you to find the metaphorical finish line. It's like a test of patience, and wow, your boyfriend has a lot.

You narrowly miss the last shots at your character and run through a nearby checkpoint, before throwing the controller on a decorative ottoman.

"Good job, baby," Jisung praises.

You quickly push him against the backrest, sinking down completely on his cock cowgirl style. He watches you with pretty eyes, lips parted slightly, waiting for you to fuck him the exact way he fucks you after his games. You grab his neck kiss him breathlessly.

"Oh, I am going to fuck you so hard tonight, Park Jisung."

You can feel him smirk.

“Wanna make it a game?”

[lightning-water]

i don’t think Jays amnesia is accidental or legitimate

here’s why:

Jay knows his name his full name, implying that he knew it even with memory loss, and you might be thinking couldn’t the agents just tell him his name if he didn’t remember? well no one in the administration seemed to know who LLOYD GARMADON WAS until they broke zane out, they didn’t even Acknowledge Zane as a ninja when they arrested him implying that they have no idea who THE HEROS OF NINJAGO are

He knows he had lightning powers but nobody else knows this, which also connects to the administration didn’t know who jay was before or they would’ve informed him of his powers themselves and he would’ve known that they knew but he makes it seem like it’s a bad thing like bad things happen to Elemental Powers so if that is true why would they put somebody in the administration knowing that they have Elemental powers?

Still has similar personality traits to before (video games) so the memory loss didn’t cause Jay to completely loose himself, he still holds the similar traits to before. this seems more like someone took out the people and things he was doing and not erasing him as a person? idk if that makes sense but when Nya and Zane got their amnesia they blindly trusted people, the first person they saw who told them things and they believed them and they kind of acted differently but also they had no idea who they were they couldn’t even remember their name, so it just makes Jays amnesia more purposeful and thought out

he can’t remember anything before the administration- now he remembers all of his life at the administration but not a single thing before that? Also this tells us that if he woke up at the administration with no memory why would they give him a guy who knows nothing but his name a good position like a manager? it just doesn’t make sense unless they brought him in specifically, and why nothing before the administration, what happened to his mech? Did it crash and if so how did he not remember waking up at the crash and going to the administration, did they take him from the crash sight? And Nya told Zane that the merge was years ago no matter how many years it’s been wouldn’t Jay had to have had some sort of memories come back like anything? a face? a single memory? a name?

i had this theory i posted about where he also woke up at a monastery copy because i think there’s more out there because he walked right into where Bonzle was with no backup, none. Why would they send in an agent alone unless he didn’t say where he was going and instead just went along with his muscle memory and he was going to where Bonzle came from too so he knew where he was going he did not look lost once.

My ending point: somebody or something erased Jays memories it wasn’t just an accident or a bump on the head and i think most fingers are point to the administration/administrator, because it’s just weird timing that it’s just the administration that he remembers along with just his name, it just kind of seems thought out like they wanted him for a reason or something. There are things about himself that he knows, he doesn’t seem to be having an identity crisis so it’s almost as if someone picked and chose which things he could remember and which he would have to forget like people and his previous life. All the agents seem like they have something off about them too, maybe it’s requirement that they examine people who they believe would be good agents and erase their memories and take them which is why nobody questions it, it’s just what they know. Or maybe the Administrator works for Ras too and gives Ras amnesiac Elemental Masters for him like where did Tox come from? and why does it look like she’s on the bad guy side now? Maybe Ras’ plan B was getting other elemental masters to fight for him in the tournament of sources instead of the Forbidden 5 and to do that he had the administrator provide them and erasing their memories knowing that they wouldn’t willingly help Lord Ras.

Anyway that’s just a few (a lot) of things i think about at night