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lustfulslxt · 1 year ago

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What Are You Doing Step Bro? - Chris Sturniolo

summary : you go on a small trip with your new “family��. you and chris, your stepbrother, test the waters and give into your deepest desires.

warnings : step siblings kink, breeding kink, swearing. think that's it, but probably not. NSFW

a/n : i do not want to hear a single thing about how they're related, it's incest, it's gross, it's weird -- whatever the fuck. there are absolutely no blood relations! if you're not into this kinda thing, simply shut up and keep scrolling while the rest of us get our rocks off :)))))))

His wavy brown hair falls perfectly over his face as he packs his duffel bag. The moonlight illuminates his prominent cheekbones. His long eyelashes brush over his cheeks every time his eyes flutter, the cool light making his bright blue irises damn near glow. His sharp jaw clenches every time his mind runs back to this dreaded 'family' trip. His muscly arms flex with every movement he makes. Every so often, his tongue flicks over his pretty, pink lips. Oh, those lips, how badly I want to feel them dance across my skin. I shouldn't be thinking these kinds of things, but I can't help it. The way he carries himself, so confident and sexy.

It's been a year since our families moved in together. Him, his father, my mother, and me. Our parents got married out of the blue. Honestly, I hadn't even seen much of his father before they announced their engagement, so, it was a surprise they had sprung on us. Then, abruptly uprooting us from our own lives just to come together as a supposed family. We're not family.

His father tries too hard, and Chris is just a douchebag. We bicker so much, yet I can't help but feel extremely attracted to him. There's no doubt in my mind, if he wasn't my stepbrother, I would have been pounced. When we're arguing about who's turn it is for the bathroom, sometimes, I imagine locking us in there and jumping his bones. I know I'm not imagining things, there's an extreme tension between us. However, there's nothing I can do about it.

"Have you even started packing?" His deep voice snaps me from my spiraling thoughts.

I scoff, "Of course, I'm not an idiot. I don't wait until the last minute to do things, like you."

He shakes his head, a smirk pulling to his luscious lips. "I make it work, sweetheart. Just cause you like to be the obedient good little girl."

I turn my head away from him to hide the flush in my cheeks, "Don't call me that."

"Which one?" His smirk grows, "Sweetheart? Or good little girl?"

"Don't call me either of them!" I snap, fulling turning my body to the opposite side of the room.

I can feel my skin burning with desire. I mentally curse myself at my bodily reactions to his simple, yet teasing words. He knows what he's doing, and it's driving me mad. I huff a little before walking off in the direction of my bedroom, his faint chuckling being heard before I close my door.

I jump onto my bed, my limbs sprawling out, and look up at the ceiling. My lips curve upwards, a shit eating grin planting itself on my face. God, I hate him. More so, I hate that I don’t hate him. I hate that I want him as bad as I do. It’s not right.

I spend the rest of the night lying in bed, scrolling through various social medias to keep my mind off of the boy in the room right next to mine. It only seems to work half of the time, my stupid brain continuously wanders back to him. Ugh, why would my mother do this to me? She knows how much I lack self control.

—

The next morning, I spend the first couple of hours getting last minute things ready for our trip. Maybe I lied to Chris last night, saying I had already packed. He doesn’t need to know.

I just got out of the shower and into my room, still wrapped in a towel. I sit on my bed, letting myself cool off and air dry a little bit. After a few minutes of doing nothing, I stand up to dry my hair, only realizing my blow dryer is in the bathroom. I groan and make my way back out into the hall, but when I get to the bathroom door, I realize the shower is running. Of course he’d be in there when I need to grab stuff. After a split second of pondering, I decide to just quickly grab my blow dryer and my brush.

Upon opening the door, steam flows out of the bright room, and I can feel the humidity in there. I scurry to the counter, quickly grabbing my things, when I pause. My eyes staring into the mirror, solely focused on the scene behind me. Our shower door is clear, and though it’s foggy, I can still see right through it.

There, Chris is, in all his glory. His body glistens, water steadily pouring down over him. His hair is stuck to his forehead, his head tilted down while he lets the water run over him. His lean body curving in all the right places. My eyes involuntarily follow his figure down, locking right below his waist. My mouth waters at the sight. His dick hangs down, the same color as his lips, definitely above average. Even from far away, I can see the veins running along side it. My mouth slightly parts at the sight.

“You just gonna stand there and stare at me all day, or you gonna get in?” He asks, his head still facing the floor.

I gasp, slightly embarrassed that he caught me staring at him. “Don’t be weird!”

“Says the one looking at me like she wants to take a bite.” He chuckles, finally turning his head in my direction.

My face catches fire, the rosy shade deepening the longer we make eye contact. I force myself to look away, quickly grabbing my things and running out of there. How humiliating.

Shutting myself in my room, I pause and let out a deep breath. Before I can help it, another grin makes its way to my face. Wow, he’s hung. I shake my head, trying to rid my mind of certain thoughts. Why am I like this?

I set my stuff on my desk, plugging the blow dryer in to get to work. Making sure my towel is securely wrapped around my chest, I start to dry my hair, brushing through it as I go. My hair is super thick, so it usually takes a good minute to fully dry and get it how I like it.

The loud machine blasts in my ears, so loud that I hadn’t notice the presence in my room. The feeling of warm fingertips brushing the back of my thigh, right below my towel, causes me to jump and shriek in fear, my towel falling in the process. I quickly turn around to be met with Chris and his infamous smirk. I hurriedly bend down, yanking my towel back up to cover myself, but it’s too late. He already saw everything, and it’s evident on his features.

“What are you doing?” I squeal.

“What?” He asks, feigning innocence. “You can look at me, but I can’t look at you? That’s not fair, is it?”

“Chris.” I say, swallowing my nerves. “What do you want?”

He grins, flashing his pearly white teeth. “I’m not too sure I’m allowed to answer that. But I won’t tell if you won’t.”

I open my mouth to say something, yet fall short of words. I can’t speak, I can’t even think. He licks his lips and steps closer to me, his hand now brushing against the front of my thigh, just below the towel. My breath hitches in my throat, my skin tingling underneath his touch. He flattens his whole palm against my thigh, leaning in even closer to me.

“Chris!” His dad’s voice calls out from somewhere on the farther side of the house.

He tsks, his lips brushing against my ear, “I guess you’ll have to find out another time, sweetheart.”

Without another word, he walks off, leaving me standing there with a slack jaw as I stare into the distance. I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want him. He’s actually going to be the death of me. He makes it so easy to want to be bad.

I swallow, attempting to lubricate my now dry throat, and get back to getting ready. The entire time, Chris and the way his skin felt on mine never leaving my thoughts. In fact, I spent the remainder of my morning fantasizing about what it would be like to have him. All of him. Safe to say, I had to change my panties before leaving my room.

—

It's been a couple of hours since my little run in with Chris. For the most part, I've managed to keep myself occupied to keep him off of my mind. Yet, every now and then, I can feel my thoughts slipping into a steamy abyss filled with erotic fantasies involving my stepbrother. We're all getting ready to leave, taking trips out to the car, filling it with all of our bags and whatnot.

"The resort just called." My mother announces as we all gather at the front door. "Our room is ready for us."

"Splendid! Let's get this show on the road!" Chris' dad cheers, running off to the car with my mom.

Chris and I watch them before looking at each other. A sly smirk pulls to his lips, yet again, and he nods ahead of him. "After you, sweetheart."

I roll my eyes at the nickname and walk towards the backseat of the car. Whistling rings through the air, causing me to snap my head back. Chris is standing in the same spot, looking me up and down with his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Pervert." I mumble, lifting myself onto the seat and start crawling over towards the opposite side of the car.

Before I can even get to my seat, I leap forward with a yelp emitting from my mouth. My head shoots back, my eyes locking with Chris'. He's got that same devilish grin on his face that makes me want to drop my panties.

"What's wrong?" My mom asks from the front seat.

"He-" I start, only to be cut off by Chris.

"She hit her knee on the door."

I glare at him as he climbs in next to me. He shoots me a wink, which I only huff at. I lean over and pinch his arm, causing him to yank it away from me.

"What was that for?" He questions.

"You pinched my ass!" I whisper shout, appalled by his behavior, yet at the same time, turned on.

"Don't act like you didn't like it." He whispers back, his tongue running over his teeth.

I simply shut up, unable to disagree because he's right. I did like it. In fact, I loved it. I roll my eyes once more, annoyance flooding my veins. Not annoyed at him, more so at myself for being so affected by him. It's not right. I close my eyes and lean my head against the window, hoping sleep overcomes me.

I don't know how long it's been before my eyes flutter open, the sound of faint music waking me. My eyes squint, adjusting to the streetlamps that shine as we pass by them. I'm suddenly very aware of a warmth to my right. Looking over, I see Chris sat next to me rather than the opposite window like he was before.

"What are you doing?" I ask, my voice coming out in a low tone.

He looks over at me with furrowed eyebrows, "Minding my business. You should try it sometime, baby."

"Don't be a dick. I just woke up and you're basically sitting on top of me." I scoff, spreading my legs to push his away from me and give myself more room.

That might not have been a good idea. Chris' eyes trail down my body, boring into my parted thighs. I can practically see the gears turning in his head. He, yet again, smirks at me, licking his lips.

He leans into my ear, his warm breath fanning my ear, his voice husky. "Admit it, sweetheart. You'd love it if I was on top of you."

His hand brushes the top of my thigh, his fingertips lightly grazing my bare skin. I have to bite my lip to hold back the breathy moan that threatens to escape due to his words and his touch. When I don't say anything, his hand presses more firmly into me. Very slowly, his hand trails higher and higher, applying the same amount of pressure the whole way up. Today would be the day that I chose to wear a skirt.

My eyes are wide as I watch his hand, my lips slightly parting. I can feel the heat rushing to my face, as well as my core. I feel like I'm on fire. I quickly look at him and notice his gaze hasn't wavered from my face, his brain soaking in my reaction to his movements, trying to burn the image in his mind, so he never forgets it.

A shaky breath leaves my mouth as his hand slides under my skirt, disappearing to do God knows what. I'm stuck in place, not daring to move. I want to see how far he's going to take this; I don't want him to stop. I let out a small gasp as his fingers make contact with my clothed pussy. But just as quick as they're there, a voice moves through the air, and they're gone.

"Are you guys hungry?" His dad asks us, completely oblivious to what his son was doing.

Chris looks at me, awaiting an answer. I gulp, shaking my head, "N-no."

A small chuckle leaves Chris' mouth, his lips brushing against my ear. "I can feel how wet you are. Makes me want to bend you over the console and devour you."

"Oh my God." I mutter, my ears growing hot as I squeeze my legs shut and turn as much as I can to the door.

There's no way I can make it through this trip, absolutely no way. If he keeps this up, I'm going to lose it. I don't even know what he's trying to get out of this. Is he trying to humiliate me? Does he actually want to fuck? I groan, tossing my head back. I'm so screwed.

After what felt like the longest car ride of my life, we finally get to our destination. Our parents wanted to stop a get something to eat, so it took even longer to get to the hotel. We make our way inside, bags on top of bags in our hands. After we get checked in, my mom hands me a room key.

"You guys can head up, me and Jerry are going to make a quick pitstop." She informs Chris and me.

I look at her with an 'are you serious?' look, before my eyes subconsciously advert to Chris. He smiles at her and nods, letting them walk off to wherever. I keep my mouth shut and head to the elevators, him following my tail.

We get to the elevator and only have to wait a moment before the doors open. Walking inside, I glance at the room key to confirm the floor level. Without a word, I press the number '6', the doors shutting almost instantly.

"You know-" Chris begins, a slight curve on his lips. "You can lie to yourself all you want, but I can see it all over you. You want me as bad as I want you."

I harshly swallow, looking for the right words to say. Again, I'm left stuck stupid. How does he do this? The simplest statements leave me dazed and practically malfunctioning. He slowly walks over to me, backing me into the wall. I stare up at him, anticipating his every move. His body is pressed firmly against mine, causing me to shiver. His face is millimeters from mine. He lifts his free hand, wrapping it around my neck. My breath catches in my throat, my core throbbing at the small yet extreme gesture.

His fingertips slowly trail upwards, grazing over my chin. His thumb rubs across my lips, putting pressure on my bottom one and gently pulling it down. My lips are parted for just a moment before my bottom lips bounces back after he removes his finger. His hand grasps my jaw, his face inching closer and closer to mine.

"I'm going to destroy you." He whispers against my lips.

Before anything else can take place, the elevator dings and the doors open, snapping me from the trance he always seems to put me in. I quickly compose myself and scurry out of there, following the signs on the walls to get to our room. Once I get there, I swipe the card, running in the second the light clicks green. Chris has to catch the door with his foot, because I was not waiting for him.

Getting in, I take my time to admire the place. Everything looks so elegant and luxury. Since our parents are off doing whatever, I take the liberty to choose my bedroom for the week. The first one I walk into is amazing, and I'm satisfied with it. Tossing my bags at the foot of the bed, I lay back on it, stretching my limbs out. My short-lived peace disturbed when Chris comes strolling in with his bags.

"I already got dibs on this room." I say, pushing myself up on my elbows.

He snickers, "Jokes on you, we're roomies now."

"Excuse me?" I gape at him, "Yeah, no."

"Actually, we are. This is a two-bedroom suite."

"Are you serious right now?" I frown.

He hums, "Mhm. As serious as I was about what I said in the elevator."

My face grows hot, and I have to purse my lips to prevent them from curving up into a smile. I'm actually terrible, because why do I love this?

"We're here!" My mom's voice sounds from the living room of the suite.

I let out a breath, slightly relieved, yet slightly disappointed. I'm so conflicted. I can't help but want all the time in the world with Chris, but also never want to be alone with him. I can feel myself losing control, ready to give into the strong temptation. He's not making it easy either.

"I see you guys picked your room." Jerry grins, peeking his head in with a smile.

"As in we have to share?" I question.

"Yeah. I thought your mom told you."

I don't miss Chris' smirk as he listens to us, clearly enjoying the idea of sharing a room. I don't understand why my mother hates me. How could she sign me up for this without even talking to me about it?

"We're all family now, it's no big deal." I hear her chime in as she rounds the corner.

"Yeah, right." I mutter, my face falling at the simple statement.

It's just a slap in the face, a reminder that Chris and I can never be. Regardless of whatever type of relation, it just can't happen. I'll never see them as family, but my mother clearly does. Maybe it's best not to tempt anything.

"I call the right side." Chris smiles at me, our parents now long gone.

"Nice try. You're getting the floor or the couch." I roll my eyes.

He laughs, "Good one, sweetheart. Admit it, you can't wait to share a bed with me."

I only glare at him, a slight pout on my face.

"Cheer up, baby. Just wait until you see I sleep naked." He mutters in my ear, before leaving.

"Fuck me." I whisper to myself, already knowing I'm in for it tonight.

After unpacking my things, I head out into the living room. My mother and Jerry are sitting on the sofa, so I take the loveseat. I sit sideways, kicking my legs up across the rest of it. I cross my arms, relaxing, sinking into the plush cushions. Looking around, I notice the both of them are dressed up. Did we have plans that I'm not aware of?

"Are we going somewhere?" I ask, furrowing my eyebrows.

"Oh, no." Jerry shakes his head, "I'm taking your mom out tonight. You and Chris will have the place to yourselves."

Just as he says that Chris strolls around the loveseat. He lifts my feet and sits down, placing them on his lap. I go to pull back, but his grip on me is firm. Without a word, his hands are kneading the soft tissue of my feet. I look up at him, my eyes almost submissive, cause why is he being like this?

"When are you guys leaving?" Chris asks them.

"Our reservation is at 8."

I glance at the time on my phone, "It's 7:15 now."

They both gasp in unison, instantly getting up to rush out the door.

"You're leaving?!" I shriek, now realizing I'll be left alone with the devil himself.

"Yes, honey. You'll be fine." My mom pats my arm. "You'll have Chris to keep you company. Help yourselves to whatever."

"Make sure you take care of her." Jerry points a finger at his son.

Chris smirks, eyes locking with mine. "You know I will."

I gulp, my eyes watching them leave as they call out quick 'I love you's'. The sound of the door clicking shut practically rattles my brain, my breathing slightly labored. I feel so nervous, already knowing it's going to be a long night.

"Want to watch a movie?" Chris asks me.

My eyes widen in surprise, that's probably the most normal thing he's said to me all day. He's been super flirty and seductive, and it's working so bad. I've never been so conflicted in my life. I know it's not right, and if anyone were to see what's happening, we'd certainly be locked away, but I can't help it. I'm yearning for him. His sultry words and lustful touches leave me throbbing every single time. I feel like I'm going to explode in his presence.

"I'll take that as a yes." He says, before teasing, "Unless you had something else in mind."

I groan, "Just put something on. I need a water."

I get up and saunter to the kitchen, my insides burning at the thought of what can occur tonight. I feel like it's inevitable. At this rate, if he keeps going, I'm folding like origami. I open the fridge and grab two waters out, immediately opening one and downing half of it. I have to practically mentally prepare myself just to go back in there. Once I do, I notice Chris now sitting in the middle of the loveseat. I choose not to say anything this time and simply sit beside him.

He already has a movie started, so we sit in silence as it plays out in front of us. The entire time, my mind is elsewhere. I can't focus on the movie at all. I keep crossing and uncrossing my legs, feeling uncomfortable. I can't get Chris' words out of my head.

I'm going to destroy you.

Oh, how badly I wish for that right now. His hands caressing every inch of my body. His mouth tasting every bit of skin. His body flush against mine. His dick stretching me in all the right ways, drilling into my sweet spot over and over and over. I have to clench my thighs, the inner turmoil growing. I feel like the air around us is thick, making it almost impossible to breathe. Tension running high between us. Surprisingly, we make it through the movie without any slick remarks or unwarranted touches. Part of me is bummed, yet I force the disappointment down, knowing it's for the best.

"Are you hungry?" Chris asks as we both get up from the sofa.

I shake my head, knowing I won't be able to eat with my current state. "No. I think I'm just gonna shower and hit the sheets."

He nods, "Okay."

I walk into our room, grabbing a towel and heading to the conjoined bathroom. I just need a quick shower to soothe me. The sexual frustration built up in me is almost unbearable, I feel feral. After turning the water on and letting it heat up, I strip from my clothes and get in. I stand underneath the showerhead, the hot water trickling down my skin. I stay there, eyes closed, trying to force the craving for Chris away. After a moment, I quickly wash up, then get out.

The bathroom is foggy, steam wafting through the air. The mirror is covered in condensation, I'm unable to see myself. I dry off, wrapping the towel around my body and heading out into the room. I pause in my steps, seeing Chris sprawled out on the bed.

"Sorry. Didn't think you'd be in here." I mutter, suddenly self-conscious being in just a towel.

"All good, sweetheart." He replies, his eyes scanning over me. "Come join me."

I swallow, "I have to get dressed."

"Come here." He repeats, his eyes dark with what I can only assume is lust.

I stand still, staring at him. I'm actually contemplating crawling into bed with my stepbrother, naked. There's no way I'm doing this. I keep cursing myself in my head as my feet bring me to the side of the bed that he's lying on. I stand there, looking down at him while he stares up at me. His hand comes out, his fingertips brushing against the hem of the towel, just like before. My heart is beating out of my chest right now, I wouldn't be surprised if it just exploded.

I'm taken by surprise when he swiftly grabs ahold of my wait, pulling me onto his lap. My thighs straddle his, my hands nervously keeping hold of my towel in attempt to keep it secure. However, my efforts prove futile when his hands grab the top of it, slowly unraveling it and letting it fall from my torso. I feel dizzy, my entire chest exposed to him. My stomach tightens, my veins flooded with anticipation.

"You're so pretty." He whispers, his fingers running over my abdomen.

"Thank you." I whisper back, my desire for him taking over me completely.

I can't think of anything else except for this moment right now, and what's bound to take place. His hands run up my arms and I can feel the goosebumps littering my skin. My breathing is erratic, I can't focus.

"Do I make you nervous?" He asks, his head tilted slightly.

I shake my head, unable to form words.

"Are you lying to me?"

My mouth has run dry. I can't even speak. My mind is hazy with lust. I want him so bad. I can feel the wetness pooling in between my legs, my core aching for his touch. He licks his lips as his eyes rake over my body. His hands run over my shoulders and down my chest, inevitably taking hold of my breasts. I can't help the whimper that falls from my lips. Finally. He grips the plush skin, squeezing gently yet firm. He moves them in circular motions, his palms applying just the right pressure to my sensitive buds.

"So perfect." He mumbles, his voice raspy.

My head lolls to the side, indulging in the feeling of his hands on me. My eyes flutter closed as he continues to knead them. A gasp slips from me when I feel his warm, wet mouth wrap around one of my nipples. My back involuntarily arches into him, his face full of chest. His touch becomes hungrier, his mouth now harshly sucking while his fingers work the opposite tit. Soft moans escape my mouth, my pussy throbbing for him.

He pulls away from my chest, his hands gliding up my back. I can feel his bulge beneath me, and I have to fight the urge to grind against it. He suddenly pulls me down, an abrupt moan emitting from my throat as the quick movement causes his dick to rub against my clit. His hand grabs ahold of my jaw, pulling my face into his.

He stares at my face, his eyes trying to read my emotions. "Say you want this."

I nod.

"Say it."

"I want this." I reply, my voice quiet yet sure.

With that, his lips smash into mine. Our mouths move together, hungry and feverish. Our tongues fighting for dominance, taking turns exploring one another's mouths. Our heads turn every which way, allowing more access. Our teeth clash together, saliva practically dripping out of our mouths. My hands run through his hair while his run along my body, pulling me impossibly closer.

Without one swift motion, I'm lying on my back with Chris towering over me. My towel is now completely removed, lying next to us on the bed. His hand turns my head to the side, his mouth now working on my neck. His tongue licking over the skin, teeth biting down, sucking every part. My breathing is quick, my body tingling with a burning sensation, desperate for more.

"Chris." I breathe out in a whine.

He hums, "Mm, I knew you couldn't resist me."

"Please." I whine again.

"Begging me like such a good girl, just like I said." He smirks against my skin, moving down my chest.

My hands grip at the back of his shirt, tugging at it, wanting to feel his skin on mine. He gets the hint and sits up, removing it with ease. His hands move down to his sweats, yanking the drawstring loose. In one quick movement, he's left in his boxers. I can see his dick fighting against his boxers, begging to be released. I can't help but reach out and palm him through the cloth.

He tosses his head back with a low moan, "Fuck."

His hand reaches forward, spreading my legs open for him. My pussy on show, leaking with arousal. He's practically drooling at the sight before him. His fingers trail up my thigh in an agonizingly slow pace, leaving my hips thrusting up for just the slightest touch.

"So needy." He smirks, "Such a naughty girl."

Finally, his fingers make contact with my aching clit, eliciting a long moan from me. He rubs it in slow circles, making my body tremble with every movement. He stops for a brief moment as he plunges a finger into my entrance, my body jolting from the sudden sensation.

"So, fucking wet." He groans in contentment.

His finger continues pumping in and out me with his thumb rubbing my clit, and I can't help but grind into his hand. It feels so good, but I want more. To my dissatisfaction, he pulls away, leaving me to cry out at the loss of pleasure. I watch as he pulls his boxers off, tossing them with his sweatpants. His fully erect dick flies up, slapping his stomach. His tip is an angry red, needy for stimulation. I saw it in the shower, but now, up close and personal, I am clenching, ready to wrap around him.

His hands grip my hips, flipping me onto my side. He takes ahold of my thigh, hiking it up for better access. His opposite hand grabs ahold of his cock, stroking it before rubbing the tip through my folds. I bite my lip, my stomach tightening, bracing for penetration, my pussy desperate for it. He slowly sinks into me, fully bottoming out. My jaw falls slack, my mouth vocalizing a drawled-out moan. He shudders inside of me, his eyes closing at the feeling of my pussy snugly swallowing him.

His thrusts are slow and hard, setting a rhythm. One of my hands clench the sheets, the other one rubbing his stomach. My eyes squeeze shut, the pressure instantly building in my stomach. I've been waiting for this all day. His free hand runs up my back and around my chest, harshly squeezing my tit. Lewd moans fill the room; him grunting with every deep thrust, constant whines falling from my lips.

"Taking me so well. Just like a good little slut." He says, his hand moving from my boob to my neck.

His strokes pick up in speed, the bed shaking with every thrust. The knot in my stomach continues to grow, my orgasm sneaking up on me faster than ever. He's fucking me so good. I can't hold back the noises he's pulling out of me. The tip of his dick jams into my sweet spot with just the right amount of force. I'm unraveling fairly quickly. It's so wrong but it feels so right.

"Yes, right there." I cry out, clenching around him. "F-fuck, fuck, fuck."

"You close, baby? Gonna cum all over my cock, hm?" He groans out, his body leaning over mine.

"Fuck y-yes. God, please don't stop." I moan, my loud voice bouncing off the walls.

He starts fucking into me even faster, the pleasure almost overwhelming. "I don't plan on it."

My legs shake below him, my knuckles gripping the sheets until they're white. His breath on the back of my neck, his moaning in my ear, both sending me over the edge. My body convulses as euphoria takes over. Pornographic moans leave my mouth as I clench around him, letting go. My juices flowing out, completely coating his dick and dripping down the both of us.

"You feel so good." He whines, "Made just for me."

The bliss is at an all-time high, my mind completely fogged with lust for him. I never want this night to end.

"Mm, want you to fill me up." I whine, pushing back onto him, meeting his thrusts.

His hips sputter as he moans, "Yeah? Filthy little slut wants her stepbrother's baby in her?"

I can't even respond, my mouth hung open as screams leave it. It happens so suddenly, another wave of pleasure washing over me at his words. My hand clings to him, wanting to feel all of him. I'm trembling underneath him as my second orgasm hits. His groans grow louder as his thrusts grow sloppy. With just a few more strokes, his body is heaving over mine as he empties himself inside of me. He pumps a few more times, before completely pulling out and sitting back. Both of us struggle to catch our breaths, exerted from that entire moment.

Suddenly, I'm crying out again as he shoves two fingers into me, pushing his cum back in. "Aht, aht! Can't have that."

I'm still shaking with aftershocks when he lies down beside me, his fingers making their way to my lips and into my mouth. My tongue glides over them, sucking off our mixture. He pulls them away with a groan and turns my head towards his. He places another kiss on my lips; hard and passionate.

"We should probably get dressed." I breathe out after a minute.

"No, just stay like this for a little bit longer. I'll make sure it's taken care of before they get back." He whispers, pulling me into him.

I want to protest, but I'm tired and the thought of sleeping in his arms makes my stomach flutter. So, that's what I do.

a/n : ah bye why do i need this so bad? hope you like it! if it's not for you, just shut up k thanks xx

#lustfulslxt #joss speaks #sturniolo triplets #sturniolos #the sturniolos #imagine #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #step siblings #smut #request

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number-onekidqueen · 5 days ago

Note

pls do Sirius x reader to loml but make it not enough time instead of wrong time

𝓨𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓼𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓛𝓲𝓯𝓮

warnings: mentions of prison, death, alcohol, arguments, swearing, semi-cheating, a whole lot of angst.

wc: 8k

a/n: this is a long one, so i hope that makes up for how long this took to publish. i lowkey forgot what happened exactly with sirius, and all the department of mysteries so if it's inaccurate, my apologies.

It was an understatement to say you and Sirius had a history together.

You'd been in each other's orbit before then, sitting near each other once or twice and sending polite smiles, but everything truly started during fourth year, when the Yule Ball had been announced. Boys in each house began stressing, worrying about how to ask their would-be dates and how they might confess their feelings.

The marauders were not spared. While Remus had already asked a girl he was in a study group with - and she had accepted, luckily for him - he was overthinking ways it could go wrong and how the night could pan into a disaster.

Peter was a wreck, having ceased the little social contact he’d had with his potential date and attempting to change the subject whenever the topic would surface and she was within earshot.

Even James, at least sure in his choice of Lily as a date was anxious in ensuring the details of his proposal to her would be flawless, anxious to please her and praying she accepted.

It was worse than exams. Somehow, using natural talent and a bit of cheating, Sirius and James had always managed passing grades or above in most subjects when it came to getting results back after exam season.

But asking a girl out to the Yule Ball? You couldn’t cruise along easily, hoping for the best outcome. Girls were happy to go on all the Hogsmeade dates that they wanted with Sirius and have it be casual, but the second a ball came up, it all became sentimental to them and they wanted it to “mean something”.

And as irking as that was, it led Sirius to question whether he should take someone he actually liked too.

Which led him to a conundrum. Because when it came down to it, there simply weren’t many options of girls he actually liked, who he could talk to and have fun with.

Sure, there were a few girls in Slytherin that were acquaintances of his family and that were okay to have a chat to once in a while. But he didn’t want to get sucked into all that pureblood shit. It would be fulfilling his parents wishes if he did something like that, and he would be damned if he did anything remotely close to what they wanted.

And so he was left with two options.

The first was a Ravenclaw girl he was often paired up with in potions that tolerated his laidback often bordering on lazy attitude towards the subject. But he knew she’d already been asked and accepted, because he’d had to make the potion on his own the last lesson they’d had, as she’d been distracted, passing notes and giggling with a fellow Ravenclaw boy behind them.

Which left you. Y/N L/N. Friends with Lily, Dorcas, Marlene, Mary, a fair few people. Your friend groups collided often, and he liked that while you enjoyed a laugh, you put James and him in their places when they got too cocky. It took guts to do that, and he respected that.

With the idea becoming more and more appealing, he decided to ask you.

The proposal was nothing special. He remembered from a conversation he’d overheard between you and Lily about nail polish that you liked burgundy. So he’d conjured three red roses in preparation, and ambled up to you in the library where you were studying, with the flowers thrust out.

You'd raised an eyebrow as he placed them beside your books, urging him to speak.

“Look, I know you probably think I’m an idiot. But I like you, and I have no date to the Yule Ball, and I think we could have a lot of fun, so I’d like to ask you to the ball.” He'd proposed.

It was strange. He’d been mostly nonchalant all day leading up to this event, but saying the words left a ball of tension in his throat. He waited with bated breath for your response. For some unknown reason, he knew it would hurt him if you said no.

“Yeah, okay, I’d be happy to come with you.” And you'd smiled at him, just a friendly quirk of the lips, and it made him wonder why he felt jittery afterwards, why he seemed to be in a daze when he left the library after.

The Yule Ball was a success. Sort of.

Remus and his date, Linda, seemed to have a lovely time all night. Peter managed to say a few words to his date every now and then. And Lily had rejected James’ offer, but between both their friend groups, they’d ended up having a single dance together, right towards the end of the night, which James was still rambling about a week and a half later. And as for Sirius, it had been easier than falling asleep to enjoy himself.

He was stunned at first, when you walked down the stairs with the other girls. All of them looked glamorous and attractive, but it still seemed as if you were the star among stones when you stepped out amongst them. The colour of your gown seemed to bring out different shades in your eyes, and the right tones in your skin, or whatever it was supposed to do. He didn’t really know what it was, couldn't put a finger on what made you look so gorgeous, the only thing he knew is that you did.

And suddenly it was intimidating. With every step of yours closer to him and quiet click of your heels, his mind began to race more, and he felt insecure, worried his hair wasn’t neat enough, that perhaps he’d missed the sneaky patch of bristle under the dip of his jaw-

But you’d smiled and laughed once you approached him, and immediately struck up a conversation. It was like that all night - talking, dancing, drinking, eating. Fun and easy.

He'd been to so many balls in his life, used to the impressive and dainty decorations, the fine food and all the dramatic events that occurred. It was just another night to him, but he soon discovered that to you it wasn't.

This was your first ball, and you knew nothing of them. And despite hating them for as long as he could remember, there was something fun about seeing the wonder in your eyes as you took everything in, correcting your occasionally awkward dance movements and advising you on what to eat and what not. All these seemingly useless skills he'd acquired could finally be put to use, and help make you happy. And so it was a pleasant night, teaching you everything there was to know about balls, and sharing new experiences.

Until it wasn't. He hadn’t been aware, but the last song of the ball was slow and heartfelt. Out on the dance floor, still laughing together, the pair of you had been caught up in the tune, following the music as you waltzed and swirled and stepped. And as he’d dipped you, he’d felt a spark in his stomach, as if he’d touched a live wire.

You'd exhaled softly as he gripped the small of your back, and the nervous gesture had cast his eyes onto your lips. Pink, glossed lips. The music seemed to go silent, and all there was were the shared breaths between you as he found himself leaning forward, inch by inch and wanting more, wanting to feel their softness with his own lips. And a rapid glance at your eyes revealed what he felt, a shy but desperate urge to get closer, to explore what hadn't been felt-

The moment had been disrupted when James had bumped into the pair of you, pushing you away from a girl who was hunched over and retching on the floor.

It hit him all at once, when you immediately left his side to hurry over to the poor girl, some Hufflepuff you knew from Herbology. You were good, kind - an amazing girl really. The kind of girl to fearlessly help another girl in need, even if you weren't good friends, even if it was embarrassing. What did he have to offer you? He toyed with girl's feelings, organised pranks on Slytherins and cheated on tests. He wasn't good. He wasn't worthy of you. What in Merlin's name was he doing? No, he couldn't do this.

He walked up to your crouched form beside the Hufflepuff girl, patting you gently on the shoulder, before he walked away, offering a brief goodbye as he headed for his dormitory.

He knew he’d fucked up the next week. The day after the ball, you’d wanted to talk to him, about what had almost happened, about where the pair of you stood. He could feel it when you glanced over at him in classes, when you quickened to his pace when you spotted him walking around the castle.

He couldn’t bring himself to talk to you. If he even felt the things he felt, which he still wasn't completely sure of, he knew he wasn’t good for you at all. His family, his status, his reputation. Sirius and Black would forever be entwined inevitably, and you detested everything the Blacks stood for. And at his core, he knew he was the exact opposite of you, in all the worst ways. It just wouldn’t work.

He tried to tell himself that when he dodged your eyes and exclamations to him, and when he avoided you in the corridors between lessons.

He tried to believe it when he saw your face fall in hurt, saw you and your entire friend group begin to look at him in disdain.

He tried to reassure himself when he lay in bed awake, long after James had began snoring, and wondered what could’ve been if that chick hadn’t puked her guts out.

You weren’t good friends after that at all. Your whole relationship seemed to have been tossed into flames. He realised the extent of that, when he casually slid into a seat beside you in Charms a few months later and you up and left immediately. To sit beside a Slytherin.

For the rest of fourth year, your relationship was frosty at best between you both. He tried to be back in your orbit, and you pushed him out, often obviously. It always made him a little upset, even if he rolled his eyes at your passive aggressive antics in public. He'd still wanted to be your friend, even if he knew he couldn't be more than that for your sake.

He was pleased that by the end of seventh year, he at least had a civil relationship with you. You tolerated him, you were polite to him, and sometimes you even let out a short chuckle at his jokes. He loved it when you did.

It was when you both joined the Order after graduation that he truly began talking to you again and trying to reform the relationship. And it had appeared to be working.

He was different now, more knowing of himself and his personality than his teen self had been. And he knew now that while he wasn't perfect back then and he certainly wasn't now, you had been worth the risk. You had been worth all the differences between the pair of you and all the changes he would've had to have made. And you still were.

But that was when bloody Craig entered the scene.

Sirius couldn’t believe of all the blokes out there, you’d chosen to date him. You weren’t just attractive to him, you were seriously beautiful. In his opinion, you probably could’ve dated a prince or Oscar-winning actor with your looks and your personality, and you'd chosen him?!

Craig was… Merlin's beard, where did he even start? He’d been a stuffy Ravenclaw guy in the year above the both of you. And could you believe it, after seven years at Hogwarts and getting cracking marks in most subjects, what did he do with his credentials? He was a muggle television technician or something. Sirius still didn't really understand what he did exactly, but he'd been seriously disappointed when he found out. What?!

What was worst of all was Sirius knew that secretly, you didn’t like him. He’d be invited for Order dinners, and call you sweetie, give you a wet kiss on the cheek, and Sirius would see your eyes twitch, just slightly, your smile tighten. He’d speak of image quality and specific cords, and Sirius would see you roll your lips inward and look away, the way you always did when you were embarrassed or uncomfortable.

It pissed him off, frankly. If he were dating you, he wouldn’t be talking about bloody televisions. He’d be talking about what you liked, what you were interested in, and trying to crack jokes that would make you laugh, even just a little bit. He'd include you in every conversation, instead of interrupting you mid-sentence to go on tangents about muggle 'technology', whatever that was. He'd kiss you privately, the way he knew you liked, and not blatantly ignore your discomfort and embarrassment at public affection.

When he'd seen your subtle grimace for the fourth time that night, he decided to pour himself another glass of wine, and perhaps a generous one at that. He was going to need it.

Walking into the kitchen, he debated between Merlot and Pinot Noir before choosing the latter option. If this continued, (which he was sure it would) he didn't want to be sober, and he didn't want to remember it at all.

"Do you mind pouring me a glass?"

At your soft question, Sirius nearly dropped his glass in surprise. Spinning around, he faced you and immediately noticed the expression of discomfort on your face, the way your cheeks were coloured and eyes troubled.

Playing it casually, he hummed affirmatively in response, reaching up to get a glass, and beginning to pour the deep red liquid into your glass.

"Oh, woo- that's enough." You chuckled, pulling the glass by its stem to avoid it from filling further. "I don't want to get completely written off."

You laughed and Sirius joined in, although the sound was hollow and fake, even to his own ears.

Frowning, you took a small sip from your glass and tilted your head. "Sirius, what's wrong? I don't mean to be rude, but I feel like you've kind of been off all night."

"I'm fine," he responded tightly, putting the wine back in its place and making to head past you, "there's nothing wrong."

Your hand, small but firm, stopped him on his way past, gripping his bicep. He turned, seeing your look of disbelief and something akin to concern. "Come on. Don't pull this shit with me. I know... we're not friends like we were, but I feel like I know you well enough to know that something's wrong. Just- please tell me."

All right, he thought to himself, I hate that we're not friends anymore, or more than that. I hate your boyfriend. I hate that you hate your boyfriend. I hate myself-

"Fine, tell me nothing," you spoke angrily, when enough time had lapsed that it was clear he wouldn't be speaking, "Hide behind lies, like you always do, Black. But just know, one day the truth might help you. Might save you!"

And just like that he was furious. Because how could you come to him and start preaching of telling the truth and not hiding behind falsehoods like some saint, when your current life was a lie?!

“Right, well if you want me to tell the truth, I will then," He spat bitterly, shaking his arm from your grip, "You don’t-you don’t even like him at all, do you?”

You froze, your eyes narrowing. “What?”

“It’s obvious. Craig! You think he’s a total loser. And he is!”

“Sirius, what the hell?! Just because he’s not in a magic career-“

“It’s not just that," Sirius said, shaking his head, and absolutely bewildered that you were defending him, "He’s a television technician for God’s sake. And he actually enjoys it, and finds it interesting!”

“And what's wrong with that, Sirius?!" You retorted, eyes flashing, and even though you were angry with him, some deeper part within him cheered as you stepped closer, as you brought your nose to his, "Merlin, not everyone finds parading around and pretending to be some magic soldier entertaining!"

"Oh, but you do?" He challenged, and for the way you stuttered for words, he knew that he'd won in a way.

"You... and I- we're very different. In the way we are, in the way we do our jobs, in everything."

"Fine. But d'you you know who's even more different to you? Fucking Craig! Just admit it! You don't love him, you don't even like him!"

"Craig is nice though," you defended, "he makes me feel safe and-"

"Safe? Safe?! Y/N, I know you might've forgotten that poem you loved in fourth year - but I haven't - and I'm pretty sure the line you liked most literally read 'I'd prefer to be starry-eyed rather than safe', and you talked to me for hours about it, because you agreed with it on so many levels, and you wanted to find a love that felt like that," He exhaled, suddenly feeling exhausted, "I-I know you've changed a lot since then. But if you're anything like who you were then, do you really think that Craig makes you feel starry-eyed?"

There was a long, quiet pause. In the dining room, the sounds of Lily laughing at James' joke echoed through to the kitchen. Then-

"No," you whispered.

And then-

"To be honest, only one person ever made me feel starry-eyed."

Sirius felt as if he were about to topple over from the impact of that sentence, as if he was back on his broom in a gruelling match of Quidditch and the quaffle had socked him in the ribs. He held his breath, his eyes searching yours as he prayed you'd continue, prayed you'd say the words his soul craved.

"Yeah?" His voice was croaky, scratchy, but it was as if his vocal cords had stopped functioning.

"Yeah," you breathed, and he wasn't sure whether it was he or you who moved first, but in an instant you were meeting in the middle, skidding on the cold tiles, and your lips were colliding. They were cool and soft, and coated in lip gloss that tasted sweet, and that he was sure would coat his mouth after this encounter. It was better than anything he'd ever guiltily dreamed of, and just thinking about for how long he'd yearned for this made his head spin. He wrapped his arms around your waist to distract himself from those thoughts, groaning from the warmth of your skin beneath the soft wool, so caught up in everything that he only noticed that your wine glass had slipped from your hand and crashed to the floor when your lips stopped on his, breathy and tense.

"Oh, shit. Sirius-"

"Don't care. I'll clean it up later." And he drew you back in, this time caressing your chin and neck, and twisting his fingers through the softness of your hair. It was you who let out a groan then, and then another as he began to trail warm kisses down your throat. And-and it was all that you wanted, but you knew you'd spent a suspicious amount of time as it was in the kitchen, and that soon someone would come to fetch the pair of you. And so, as much as your body screamed in argument, you should stop.

"We-we should-" you murmured, tilting slightly away from his lips which had reached the curve of your shoulder.

"Mm, no. We shouldn't." It was short and decided, which made you laugh lightly.

"They'll see us... and, well-"

"Let them."

But despite his words, even he knew the time had come to venture back into the dining room, before you attracted an audience.

Pulling away, he gave you a long glance that seemed to sear to your very bones before he gave you a final soft peck and retreated. "To be continued," he whispered with a grin, before squeezing your hand and reaching for a new wine glass for you.

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

The night seemed to progress in a way that reminded you of the fast-forward control Craig had shown you on a television, when the show continued twice or thrice as fast in order to get to the part one was up to quicker.

Dinner was over in a heartbeat, with dessert rolling out soon after you and Sirius had returned to the dining room, and everyone only staying for a half hour or so after that before succumbing to their fatigue or intoxication and heading home.

As you'd hugged Sirius goodbye, you'd whispered 'see you soon', and he'd been more than a bit confused, an eyebrow raising as he probed you with a glance for more information. But you'd just smiled at him before apparating away with Craig.

And from there it was easy.

He'd showered, and you'd sat on the sofa twisting your hands about, wondering how you were going to phrase what you'd needed to say. And when he'd come out, hair wet and on his way out to his own apartment, you stood, and you said what you could. Most of it was measly from your it's-not-you-it's-me explanation, to your utterly decided mind that the relationship was over.

But he'd taken it well. In fact, he'd practically shrugged, said something about how he was sure some girl called Grace working at his office would go on a date with him, wished you a good night, and left. It left you so dumfounded you sat on the arm of the sofa for a good few minutes after, simply collecting your thoughts.

And then you left your apartment too.

Back in the kitchen in Sirius' apartment, you wasted no time in making your way to his room, not pausing before opening the door and rushing in, blurting, "I broke up with him."

He was surprised for a moment, sat on his bed, before he rose and walked over to you, tugging you down to sit on his lap. "Couldn't waste another second without me, could you?"

"Oh, shut up, I just didn't want you going to bed sobbing." You teased, shifting from his lap to lie down on his bed, your legs still splaying over his thighs.

"Well you've absolutely saved me the tears. Now I'll be going to bed in a completely different mood," and he smirked as he ducked down to kiss you deeply, before breaking apart with concern in his eyes.

"Did he take it well?"

"Did he ever," you snorted, settling deeper into his pillow, and inhaling the scent that surrounded the bed - the scent of him -, "I'd barely closed my mouth and he was talking about some girl at his office and how he'd be fine."

"Of course he was," Sirius scoffed, scowling at the roof at the thought of discarding you so easily for someone else.

"But let's not talk about him," you complained, raising yourself up only so you could tug him down so he lay beside you.

"Oh, you want to talk about how you're starry-eyed for me?"

"Wanker," you mumbled in embarrassment, as you buried your face into the pillow.

"Princess, don't be ashamed," he said gently, taking your face into his hands so you could meet his eyes. And as riddled with mirth as they were, there was also something deeply profound in them as he said, "I'm also completely starry-eyed for you too."

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

The news came late in the night, as bad news always does.

At first you'd been rather irritated as you felt the bed shift and Sirius slip out, even if you were accustomed to it.

You'd made him promise to tone down his midnight meetings and all the dangerous missions he went on with the Order, begging him to not be involved in it over this weekend when you were supposed to be celebrating your engagement, but you supposed he couldn't necessarily ignore the shrill and desperate shrieks of an owl.

Still, you groaned when you heard him curse, heard him pull his clothes on in a hurry and rush down the stairs. And you were positively pissed when you heard the deep roar of his motorcycle start, and the rush as it zoomed off, as he left you.

What the fuck is going on? you thought to yourself as you rolled out of bed, and stumbled to where he'd left the letter.

Sirius,

Someone spilled it. He's coming for them.

-- Wormtail

No.

No, it couldn't be. You rubbed your eyes, blinked until you saw stars, trying to see anything other than the messy scrawl in front of you.

A desperate need overtook you, much like what you were sure had rushed through Sirius once he'd read the letter from Peter. You needed to help Lily and James, and poor, sweet baby Harry. You couldn't let them- but no, you refused to think of that.

But quickly, you realised there wasn't much you could do. Much like the Potters, most members of the Order had strong spells in place that didn't allow you to apparate to and from their houses, due to some leaks that had resulted in house invasions. And Sirius had taken the motorcycle, which is what the pair of you used to travel from place to place, if you didn't use the bus.

So, unless you walked - which you certainly were not going to do at this hour - there was no way you could make it to Godric's Hollow in time, no way you could help anyone.

The anguish overtook you then, and you couldn't help but cry in the horror of it all. This was supposed to be your engagement weekend with Sirius, something romantic and quiet that you had both longed for after all the dangers of being in the Order. You weren't supposed to be fearing for the lives of your closest friends, of their baby boy - and especially not your fiancé.

The hours trickled by slowly, and you weren't sure how you survived, with the way you paced agonisingly and repeatedly, shook heavily, and wept until your body went numb.

The daylight came and went, and when your watch told you that it was ten o'clock you knew something bad had happened. If things had gone well, Sirius would have been back by now. Which meant-

Getting changed into his old quidditch jersey for comfort, and a pair of jeans, you finally headed downstairs and stepped outside and into the street.

It was a normal late morning in London, with people getting on and off buses, and sitting on benches and reading the paper. But you knew in the muggle streets of London, you would get no answers to the questions you desperately needed answering, and so you rushed into action, hopping onto the approaching bus and beginning your short trip to the Leaky Cauldron.

Even at the early hour, it was bustling with patrons. Which only happened when there were things to talk about. You took this as a bad sign, but swallowing heavily, you pushed through them to get into Diagon Alley, and that was when you stepped into complete chaos.

"Get yer Prophet! Read all 'bout it! Mass murder in Godric's Hollow!" A paper seller shouted into the crowd of people.

There were groups of people standing about, with newspapers in hands and horrified expressions all around as they read what had occurred and friends read over their shoulders. Your stomach sank further as you approached the seller, bending down to pick up a paper someone had discarded in disgust on the cobbles.

AUROR COUPLE FOUND DEAD AT HOME, THEIR BABY SOLE SURVIVOR

James and Lily Potter, prominent members of the Auror community were found dead in their cottage at Godrics Hollow late last night, with only their baby boy Harry surviving the encounter that is believed to be another attack by You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters.

But unlike other Auror deaths that seem similar in nature to this double-homicide, this awful story has another horrifying twist. Friend of the Potter's, Peter Pettigrew, was found later on this morning in a London alley, where he was seemingly trying to catch the mole within the Aurors who caused this tragedy before he was brutally-

"Murdered at the hands of Sirius Black!" The seller crowed once more, "a death eater disguised as an Auror!"

You felt like you might vomit. Or faint. What?! None of what they were saying could be true. James? Lily? Dead? No, that couldn't possibly have happened.

And Sirius? You knew him, you loved him. You couldn't even fathom how someone could even have begun spreading this story of misinformation.

Courage and outrage growing within you, you stormed to the seller, calling, "You've got it wrong. Sirius Black isn't a death eater!"

You didn't care about the stares and attention you got at your bold words, at how murmurs began to spread as people looked at the golden surname stitched on the back of the red jersey you were wearing and connected the dots.

"Lovie, I'm afraid he is. Caught redhanded and everythin'," the seller explained, somewhat sympathetically, as she pointed at the front cover of the Daily Prophet. At the scowling mugshot of Sirius, whose face was sprayed in dark droplets.

No. No. But what was worse was the haunted look in his eyes, the utter pain you could see radiating from his pupils, even in the shaky, monochromatic image.

"Look, I get it's hard to come to terms with, especially if he's ya boyfriend. I knew someone who was a death eater too, and bloody hell was that a hard one to swallow! But lovie, just accept it and everythin'll be easier on ya." She soothed, giving you a ginger pat on your shoulder.

But you stepped away from her sharply. "No, this isn't true, and I'll prove it!"

And you ran and ran and ran. You didn't hear as people began to point you out, recognising you as the girlfriend of that murderer, jeer rude words at you, or even spit at you. You had tunnel vision, only thinking of your destination, which was the Ministry of Magic, and you wouldn't rest until you saw that cherry red telephone box, and until it was transporting you into the depths that were the Ministry.

Your legs began to ache, muscles screaming in protest at the ruthless pace you were sprinting at, but you refused to slow down, not when everyone in the world had got it so wrong and they were going to hurt Sirius. It couldn't be him, you simply didn't believe it at all.

The Ministry was a blur of people, colours and sounds as you pushed through crowds of people in suits, desperate to get to the desk clerk you glimpsed in the distance and ready to fall to your knees and beg to be given an audience with Sirius.

Eventually, you made it to her bench, and began breathing heavily as you faced her. "Please," you panted, as you tried to regain your rapidly escaping breath, "I don't know where he is... what's happened- but... I need to see Sirius Black, now, please-"

"Sirius Black?" The girl asked incredulously, halting her relentless gum chewing to gape at you.

"Yes, he-he... I'm afraid something terrible has happened and he's been framed... I need to sort it all out."

"Look, miss, I can't deny the bloke looks half decent," she proclaimed, leaning forward as she began to whisper the latter half of her sentence, "but he murdered some fella! And it wasn't any clean curse too, you hear? I've got an Auror friend and he said the entire road was coated in blood, Black blew the bloke up and-"

"No, no, I refuse to believe that," you rebutted desperately, "I know him, and this isn't about the fact he looks handsome, for Merlin's sake. Just-just tell me what floor he's on, please? Tell me how to access it?"

The clerk girl pursed her lips, seemingly torn before gesturing to a nearby elevator with her head and saying, "8 should be him."

Calling your thanks back at her, you strode away, dashing to make it to the elevator before the doors closed, when you heard shouts behind you.

"Y/N L/N! L/N, stop where you are!"

Obeying the voice, you swivelled your head to see three Ministry guards with their wands out, briskly making their way over and a crowd of officials following them.

"We've obtained knowledge from a source that you have a certain relationship with a recently detained Sirius Black. Would that be correct?" A guard questioned, now facing you.

"Yes," you breathed, scared suddenly.

"Well, Miss L/N, I'm going to assume that you have heard this morning's tragic news and understand the repercussions," An official interjected, once he had made his way over to face her as well, "The Ministry does not take situations like this lightly. In a reflection of that, the trial of Sirius Black is to begin in a half hour."

You couldn't even question the words leaving his mouth as any semblance of language had disappeared from your mind. You couldn't even begin to understand how this could be possible. You wanted so desperately to wake up, but you could feel the way your palms were sweating, and hear the ticking of the Ministry clock. This was not a nightmare, but reality.

"Now, obviously we cannot allow you to be a witness, as to our knowledge you were not part of last night's events, and we cannot allow you to be a part of the jury, as I think it would be safe to say you are far from impartial to Mr Black. However, what we can offer you is a seat in the viewing gallery when a verdict is reached, and a ten minute time frame with him before your trial, given your close circumstance with him. I trust you will be grateful for this and take advantage of this generous opportunity we've presented you."

And all you could say was, "Yes."

You suppose it was the shock that had set in at that point. At least, that's what the catering lady suspected when she spotted your shaking form in the court break room fifteen minutes later. You couldn't really remember how you had got down there, what path you had taken and who had taken you. Even after a mug of steaming tea and two buttery biscuits, your shaking would not subside, and your mind remained blank. But then-

"Miss Y/N, you will now see Mr Black if you have no objections." The offical called, and you felt rather than heard the doors open, as you stumbled to your feet.

It was as if all of your emotions flooded back into your body, all at once, as your eyes locked with his. The numbing shock faded away as quickly as it had drenched you, and in its wake was a suffocating number of emotions. You felt like you could begin bawling, yelling and smiling all at once as he was brought closer and closer to you by the guards restraining either side of him.

You decided fate was a cruel thing then, as the guards finally let go of his form, and he dashed the final steps to sweep you into his arms. Because the deja vu was not lost on you, of his suit and tie, and his shocked face as you walked towards him, his actions mirroring those of his ones at the Yule Ball all those years ago.

But you quickly forgot your thoughts of deja vu and fate, when you felt his own body quake with restrained sobs, felt his tight grip of you begin to suffocate you. Just as swiftly as he had embraced you however, he pulled away, his fingers staying interlocked with yours as his face took on a pleading expression.

"You don't believe them, do you?" He asked, and your heart broke to think that he'd considered you'd be against him. "I- princess, I don't know how I can make you believe me, but-but, I promise I didn't do it-I didn't-"

You kissed him then, deeply, passionately and hoping to convey all your love through your lips, if that was even possible. He seemed stunned at first, his lips still, before he responded with a fervour that almost made you smile.

"Of course I believe you," you whispered against his lips, when you both had to pull apart to catch your breath, "Sirius, you... you could never have done something like this. Of course not."

Your heart squeezed painfully once more at the broken, haunted look in his eyes, as he glanced away, anywhere but your own eyes. "It was-it was awful-I-I....," he exhaled slowly and shakily before his eyes met yours once more, "My- James is dead, and so is Lily, and I couldn't save them, Y/N. Do you know how fucking hard I accelerated, God, I thought I was going to crash into about fifteen cars and then maybe a few birds. And-and, it was all for nothing, because-" he closed his eyes, and the pain was tangible in the way he winced, "and Merlin, I don't even know what happened to Harry because not a soul will tell me anything and I'm going wild in that cell down there, because the-the bloody people down there with me-they-they howl and they scream in pain, and when they don't it's just me and the darkness, and-Merlin- I don't know how long I can deal with it-"

He buried his face into your shoulder, and when you felt wet warmth on your shoulder, you began to cry too, squeezing him tighter, because you knew that was the only way you could reassure him. "Sirius, I-I-I don't know how, but-I'll get you out of there, I will... you'll be home with me before you know it, and-"

"All right. Mr Black, Miss L/N. That concludes your session. Your trial will begin shortly."

Everything was urgent at once. Sirius pulled back from you, and the desperation in his eyes matched his tone, as he said, "Whatever happens, it happens. Just know, that I love you. I love you so much, and you are the love of my life, even with whatever ends up happening to it."

You didn't have time to say it back before he pulled you into a kiss that rivalled any others you'd ever had. You tried to memorise the feel of it all: of his arms, and the way he held you like you were the finest piece of jewellery in the world; the way his mouth felt and moved, scalding and desperate and unrelenting; and his hands, the way his fingers trailed up and down your spine and curled into your hair. It was over too quickly, and then he was being pulled away from you, and the world was hazy and blurry because your eyes were furiously streaming with tears of utter anguish. You didn't see the significant look from the officials to the catering lady, as your shaking began again. In fact, you were so distraught, that you didn't even notice the white powder she sprinkled into the tea she offered you soon after, and the realisation only sank in when your body felt leaden and you slumped to the floor, your eyes fluttering shut.

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

You thought again of the cruelty of fate when you mistook the catering lady for Sirius shaking you awake.

"Sirius," you mumbled grumpily, rolling away from the hands that shook you, "If you want me to see the bloody sunrise so much, just take a Polaroid of it, why don't you?"

But what followed wasn't a lighthearted argument or tickling kisses on your neck to wake you up, but a gentle, wary voice.

"Love, I think you'll want to wake up for this."

And then you remembered.

In a flash, you were on your feet, turning to her and asking, "Where?"

At the sight of the court room, your stomach bottomed out. Sirius was standing, his back to you and handcuffed, with an officer at either side. As you shuffled into your seat, your eyes remained on his form and barely noted as a member of the jury stepped up to the front.

"We, the jury find Sirius Orion Black guilty of all charges against him."

The banging of the gavel, was in rhythm with bile rising in your throat. And then- and then the other viewers around you in the gallery, the motherfuckers had the nerve to clap. Some cheered. You were at a serious risk of vomiting.

"With that verdict, the Ministry of Magic hence sentences Sirius Orion Black to life in the Prison of Azkaban."

Godric, you actually were going to throw your guts up. This couldn't be possible. You gazed at Sirius' back, wondering how he had not collapsed at the weight of the words they had just said, at what they meant for him and his future. He simply stayed standing, his back straight, his posture firm, as he turned to you.

It had to be fifteen metres between you and he, but you could see the heavy tears in his eyes, see the way his lips were tense as he opened them to mouth 'I love you'. You mouthed them back, just as he was tugged away, and as soon as you burst through the side door, you did vomit.

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

To the loml,

I'm not going to lie to you. Anyone who thinks hell is not on Earth has not visited Azkaban. It's dark, it's cold, it's always, always storming and the prisoners deserve to be here. They're all bloody lunatics, and since I thought the crazies in the Ministry cells were bad, I got one hell of a shock coming here.

But I get through it. Some days, I feel like I want to find a way to squeeze through the bars and impale myself on the rocks below, but that's just because I can't stop hearing them, seeing them. I don't think I can ever forget seeing James and Lily like that, and hearing those muggles scream as Peter blew them up.

You get me through it. And I know you'll think that I'm being all sappy to distract you from the dark shit I told you about before, but princess, it's true, I promise. On days like the ones I was writing about, I just think of you, and it starts to get better. I think a lot about that night you dumped that absolute tosser Craig and came home to me. What a night. And it gets me through hearing the rats in my cell and all the nightmares I get.

But enough about me, what have you been up to? I do hope Kreacher has been treating you well, or I'll find some way to beat his wrinkled arse from here.

With all my love,

yours, Sirius.

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

You didn't heed the rumours at first.

There'd been many, over the years, and while the first few times, you'd hoped and believed with all of your heart that he had in fact escaped, it hurt you too much to try and believe in rumours of his escape, as each time without fail, the truth came crashing down on you like an avalanche.

It was only when you saw him with your own two eyes that you would believe the rumours.

The night began like any other Saturday night, which was one in which you would indulge yourself with thinking about Sirius and remembering him. You dragged out your cassette player from the cupboard and while you cooked dinner you would listen to the many, many mixtapes that you and Sirius had created for each other.

You were halfway through boiling the pasta, stirring the pot with a wooden spoon as you absentmindedly sang that gushy Cher song that you loved and that you knew even Sirius had a soft spot for.

If I could turn back time,

If I could find a way-

"If I could turn back time, I'd have never got out of that bed next to you."

The wooden spoon clattered to the floor beside you, and you inhaled sharply at the sound of the voice you knew all too well. Could it be- was that even possible?

Ever so slowly, you turned your head, prepared to see the empty dining room, prepared to have finally gone mad and to have your mind playing awful tricks on you.

And yet, there he was.

It had been twelve years since you'd seen him, and you could see what the time had done to him. His hair, once silky and reaching his chin, was longer now, and more matted and rough. He had scruff on his face, like the beginnings of a beard and moustache. And under that, you could see faint lines on his face, where his age really had caught up with him.

But he was still your Sirius; you could still see the equal amounts of depth and amusement in his eyes, even if you could also see pain that hadn't been there before.

And-and somehow, he'd come home to you.

Your hands reached forward to touch him, as he stepped closer, but even with your innate desire to fling yourself onto him and never let go, stronger was your curiosity, your disbelief.

"H-how-what?" you stuttered, tears flooding your eyes, as he picked you up as easily as if you were a feather and put you on the bench top, standing between your legs.

"That, princess," he replied, in between kissing you all over, rapidly, softly, "is a long, complicated story. And-"

"You don't have to tell me right now," you murmured, beaming at him, almost high on the fact that he was back, that he was touching her. A roar of triumph echoed through your head as he sent you his signature grin.

"My thoughts exactly. We have more important things to do."

And you and Sirius carried out those important tasks dutifully and enthusiastically, only stopping abruptly when you discovered the pasta pot was boiling over.

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

"I'm going to the Ministry on Order business. Be back soon, princess," Sirius whispered, as he pressed a kiss to your brow, ignoring your groans of protest as he slipped from the bed.

Yes, Sirius Black still had a rather bad habit of leaving you in the middle of the night to partake in Order business.

The first few times he'd done this, you'd had arguments after, because obviously, after what had happened the last time he'd slipped out after midnight, you were scared stiff when you couldn't contact him, or if he came home late.

But after many, many more escapades, and two joyous years of safety, of him returning after a few hours, you'd begrudging relented on scolding him for the nasty habit. For as much as you still felt a large twinge of anxiety for every minute that ticked over sunrise when he still hadn't returned, he always did, in the end. And you knew that as much as you hated it, Sirius was an integral part of the Order, and he had to do what he had to do.

But tonight somehow felt different. Because for as much as you tossed and turned, and told yourself over and over that Sirius would be fine, the little voice inside your head would not be silenced, and it accompanied a feeling of sickness, deep in your stomach.

Cursing as you rose, you swiftly put on a comfortable and practical outfit before you left the house, venturing a few steps from the doorway before you apparated to the the telephone box that would lead you in to the Ministry.

The memories coming back to you did not help soothe your rapidly rising nerves, and neither did the dark, deserted Ministry that you found before you from your wand glow.

Your trepidation only grew when you found broken glass, and obvious signs of a scuffle. There had been a fight here, and recently. What in the name of Merlin was going on?

You were about to say that aloud when Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared beside you, and grabbed your arm, pulling you with him towards an elevator.

"Come on, we must go. They're in the Department of Mysteries." He explained, as he punched in the appropriate floor.

"What? The Order?" You asked, bewildered, as the elevator travelled at its dangerously rapid speed, "why?"

"The kids, you know - Harry, his lot, a few others - they found some death eaters down there and they've been trying to fend them off while the Order get here."

"Shit. Is everyone okay?"

"Well," he turned to face you, looking grim, as a cheery ding alerted you to the fact the elevator was stopping at the selected floor, "we have no way of knowing, but if You-know-who is involved as well as his death eaters, we have to expect the worst."

Expect the worst. You were all too familiar with the worst outcomes of a situation, and images of piles of dead, bloody bodies and Sirius being crucio'd flashed in your mind as you kept up with Kingsley's pace, racing down the corridor to the end door which was slightly ajar.

Inside was a wreck. While you'd never been inside before this moment, you'd heard that the Department of Mysteries was like an orderly maze of wonder, full of shelves that reached the roof groaning with the weight of luminescent orbs and other weird and wacky wonders.

But what was facing you now was nothing like what you had envisioned. There was only wreckage; splintered wood, and piles of glowing shards of glass littered everywhere the eye could see. Further on, you could see dark figures and flashes of green and red as fighting ensued.

Soon enough, you could make out a few familiar faces: Tonks with her fierce expressions and brightly-dyed hair; Remus with his nose streaming red, but arm still firm and strong as he hexed his opponent; Ginny, with her red hair streaming about as she ducked and dived from the many hexes death eaters were shooting at her.

But no Sirius.

You jogged further in, edging into the fight as well, and beginning to hex and curse death eaters in your midst, and those who challenged other Order members who you could reach. All the while, your eyes darted about, longing to see even a glimpse of long, dark hair, that would tell you that Sirius was safe.

But it wasn't his hair that made you notice him; no, it was his voice.

"Nice one, James," He'd called, and you could see that he was grinning with pride at his godson, Harry reflecting the expression, as he ducked from another hex shot at him.

And then the world seemed to go in slow motion.

Because there was Bellatrix - that utter bitch - her face twisted in psychopathic rage as always, as a flash of green erupted from her wand. And you could do nothing but watch, as it sailed through the air, and-

-hit Sirius squarely in the chest.

At once, he was stumbling backwards, and you weren't sure why, but Harry was screaming at this, struggling so hard that Remus had to restrain him, as he began to fall towards a shimmering mirror.

You caught his gaze then, as his hand seemingly went through the mirror. And to add to your confusion, his eyes were somber, the way they only were when something tragic and awful had happened. 'I love you' he mouthed, but you didn't have time to say it back, didn't even have time to react, because-

-then he was gone.

"NO!"

You weren't sure if it was you or Harry who'd screamed that, but you couldn't breathe as you heard Bellatrix laugh maniacally, beginning to taunt Harry. And while Harry was restrained, you weren't.

And if-if she had actually-If Sirius was actually gone, you would not rest until you wiped that evil smirk off her face permanently.

You were certain it was you, when you began charging towards her, screaming bloody murder and death threats at her. Because you weren't just going to let her die, no you were going to make her bleed, and hurt, and scream in pain before you gave her the honour of dying.

Your efforts were stopped by Kingsley however, who grabbed you by the shoulders and dragged you away from the scene, even when you struggled as furiously as Harry had, and began to scream at him. It didn't help anything, as he wrapped both arms around you and apparated away to the top floor of the Ministry. It was only then he released you.

"Kingsley, what the fuck?! How could you?!" You screeched, swivelling towards him and barely restraining the urge to slap him.

"Y/N, you need to calm down," he soothed, rubbing your shoulder, "I know you're upset, I'm upset too. But it wouldn't have solved anything at all if you did that, I can promise-"

"No, you can't promise me anything!" You yelled back, tearing backwards so his hand fell to his side, "How do you know I couldn't have disarmed her? Couldn't have forced her to get him back?"

"I can promise you that," he said slowly, enunciating every word carefully as if it were a statement of high importance, "because you can't come back from that mirror, Y/N. Sirius is gone, and if you went after Bellatrix, you would've followed right behind him."

A world without Sirius, where you couldn't bring him back to you had been unbearable the first time. But this time, you realised, as you fell backwards, as you fainted, there wasn't even a human possibility that you could get Sirius back.

He was gone.

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

The letters were your prized possession.

You kept them in a box in the cupboard, right next to the cassette player. And after a few months, when thinking about him didn't cause you to go into states of inconsolable grief, every Saturday night, you'd allow yourself to reminisce, listening to the mixtapes while you read his letters.

You didn't think there'd been a Saturday night where you hadn't spent the whole time sobbing once you were finished, even though now, you could console yourself afterwards.

You didn't think there would be a Saturday you didn't cry over his letters.

And as you stared at the letters once more, at the ink words that were the only relics you had of Sirius, that you were certain you would see in your mind until you died, you realised that what he'd addressed you as all that time, that small four-lettered anagram that you'd thought so creative and romantic of him, could be rearranged to a word combination that was now more accurate to you than the sweet nickname of the past. Because he wasn't only the love of your life, he was something else.

Loss of my life.

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makethemhoesmad · 5 months ago

Text

liability(pt. 3)

pt 1. pt 2

only a couple months late, but here it is!!

i’m thinking there will be one more part, hopefully coming sooner

thanks to @imaginespazzi, @azzibuckets, @patscorner, and @barbspeaks for dealing with my copious amounts of yap

—

“it’s for the better,” paige says, for the third time. the first two times, she’d whispered it to herself, trying to make herself believe that it was true. now, she said it to nika, who had witnessed azzi’s erratic flight to and from paige’s place, and wanted to know what had happened.

“thats what she said? verbatim?” nika questions. that’s not the azzi she knows. the azzi she knows is the one that would fight, tooth and nail, to keep her and paige together. that, even if they were separated for years, decades, lifetimes, she would be determined to find her way back.

“yes, nika i told you it was crazy. i announce that im staying another year to play with the people i love and.. oh.” paige breathes out the last word, tucking her head into her hands as she realizes something.

“what, paige? why’d you say oh?” nika inquires.

“she thinks i should have left,” paige murmures, standing up. she begins to pace the room, speaking quickly to what seemed to be only herself, forgetting nika was even there.

“she must think that i’m wasting my career by staying here, she must think that it’s her fault and that she’s the one ‘ruining my career’ in her mind. typical azzi. she’s on a spiral right now, she’ll come down, probably. probably.” the last statement seems to bring paige back to reality, and tears start to well up in her eyes. she looks to nika, sniffling and asking, “how am i supposed to make her see that she’s not, and never will be a liability.

in another room on the same campus, yet somehow seeming miles away, azzi is alone in her room, curled up under her blanket that still smells like paige, in paige’s hoodie and paige’s sweatpants. she’s giving herself only tonight to grieve for what she killed, and then she’s going to try and move on. that’s what she keeps telling herself, to justify the way she’s sobbed on and off all night. she’s about to start another round when she hears a loud knocking on her door. grudgingly, she sits up and trudges out of her room, opening up the door.

“paige, what are you doing here?” azzi gasps, even though she knows full well why exactly paige has just knocked on her door a mere five hours after their breakup.

“az, we’re still teammates. we have practice in two hours i don’t want you to ever think that you’re holding me back. i’m doing this because i love you, but also because im doing this for me.” paige says, her eyes glistening. azzi wants to take her back, right there. but she shouldn’t, she can’t. so instead, she says something she’s sure to regret.

“you know, paige, if you had just stayed healthy, this wouldn’t have been a problem.”

paige recoiled at azzi’s words, shocked at the harshness in her voice and the statements she made. in a moment of what she will eventually remember to be nothing but complete stupidity, she fires back.

“damn, i mean, if you hadn’t insisted on continuing to play after you fucked up your knee, you might’ve been able to figure it out instead of hurting it worse.”

“don’t do that, paige.” azzi says, her face going scarlet. “you do this when you get mad, hurt people’s feelings and don’t mean it.”

“i could say the same about you, azzi. we’ve played almost zero games together, and that’s the reason i wanted you here in the first place. it’s almost like i want to play basketball with my girlfriend, you know?”

“ex girlfriend,” azzi corrects quickly. she slams her teeth together, trying to trap the words back into her throat. why did she need to correct her so quickly?

“so that’s what we’re playing at, then? we’re playing pretend? we’re gonna sit here and we’re gonna act like we haven’t lived in each other’s skins for five years? our families are best friends, azzi. we can’t lose all that because you got insecure”

and azzi doesn’t know how to answer that. she doesn’t have a rebuttal, doesn’t have a defense or a witness. it’s just her, her thoughts, and her now seemingly unexplainable reasoning to break up with paige. right now, really all she wants to do is fall into paige’s arms and cry until she feels better, because paige always makes it better. something tells her that paige might not want to hold her, right now, though. so instead, she takes a deep breath, firmly points towards her door, and demands, “out.”

ironically, if azzi had in fact just thrust herself it paige’s arms, they’d probably be reunited right now. but instead, paige is standing outside azzis apartment door, debating whether to speed home and put on her gym clothes and wait for azzi to leave for practice outside her door, or corner her after practice. corner her, paige thought, speed walking to her car and grinning.

#paige bueckers #mutuals💀#azzi fudd #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #pazzi #pat🪦#cessa😗💗🤞🩷#sister wifey #barb��#liability

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strawberryblue-blog · 10 months ago

Text

Disaster. Part 1 —Joao Felix.

summary: You see Joao again after he broke your heart and nothing goes as you expected.

warnings: none. enemy to lovers, exes to lovers, many curses, cute, soft.

words count: +2.3k

#SEXYNOTE: Don't worry, there will be a second part of this and it will come faster than you think. Thanks for waiting, sorry for being late. love y'all 💙

The Uber took you to the place you had indicated when you left home, right outside the restaurant where you were supposed to have dinner. Before entering you took your purse and took out a gloss to put some on your lips, it was just a little gloss to look more appropriate. Even though you had left work an hour ago and after a quick shower and putting on the first thing you found, it wasn't like you were ready for your date.

Yes, a date. A blind date that your best friend had set up for you, which you clearly hadn't asked for but had had to agree to when she was so insistent that you come along.

Camila had taken it upon herself to find the perfect suitor for you, according to her. You had absolutely no idea who this was, you didn't even know if it was true or if it was going to be a joke from your friend. She was very insistent that your partners were invisible because she had never really seen you with one. But you had never done anything official with anyone for a long time, you didn't invest your time in men anymore.

You walked into the fancy restaurant, which you allowed yourself to admire as you closed the door behind you. Your friend had mentioned dressing well and you felt a little offended when she said it, but now you understood. Eating here was probably going to be expensive but you could treat yourself for today and if it all ended badly on the date, you would never come to this place again.

"Hello, excuse me" you called to the receptionist. "The table in the name of Y/LN?" you asked at the girl's kind smile.

"Good evening, your table is table 9" she kindly replied checking on her computer.

You politely thanked her and as you turned to go your way, your legs shook. You were nervous and you were not one to get nervous. But the thought of sitting down to dinner with a complete stranger made you hesitate. However, you plucked up your courage and went on your way, spotting the tables guiding you to find your number.

A man's marked back made you swallow your breath. You were a few steps away from him and when your eyes caught sight of the young man with his back turned, you sighed, calming your nerves. I'll just be a while, eat, chat and then leave. «Be nice» You said in your mind. Above all you were going to be polite, whatever your date, you were going to make a good impression.

You took your last steps, approaching the table and when the boy heard you, he looked up at you.

Oh, no. No way.

"Hello, Y/n" he greeted with a smile.

You, on the other hand, frowned in confusion feeling your legs wobble. Damn it. It couldn't be. This was a dream.

"I'm sorry, I think there's been a mistake" you said trying to pretend you didn't recognize it. Your voice dropped and you looked to your sides in confusion.

But inside you, everything moved. This was not true.

"There isn't" the young man mentioned. "Camila wanted to get us together apparently" came back a chuckle.

Damn it. You couldn't believe it was him sitting there. He looked so changed. He really looked more handsome, more mature, like a real man. But in your mind he was still the young man from a few summers ago, the handsome boy who had been driving you crazy since you were little.

"This has got to be a fucking joke," you sigh in disbelief.

Your friend really is crazy, how could she think she could bring you on a date with Joao? The same guy who had rejected you years ago and broke your heart, you hated him!

"You look great" he announced trying to flirt.

"Not with me, Joao" you warn denying.

You don't know whether to be offended by the situation, whether he had been sent by someone who hated you in this life or what was the reason he was here. But he definitely knew you would be here, while you came here hoping to connect with someone else.

You felt somewhat frustrated by what happened that the hunger or anxiety you felt vanished and the urge to run from the place came over you.

"I-I think I should go" you stammered starting to walk.

"Wait!" you heard him yell but you started running to get out of the place.

Yes, you felt offended, humiliated and weird. How were you supposed to connect with Joao if you guys weren't speaking to each other since that day, you hadn't even thought about seeing him again. You were supposed to move on with your lives and never cross paths again. Had Camila lost her mind? Of course she had. There was no other explanation.

You stood on the sidewalk of the place with your head looking sideways, waiting for a cab to arrive as quickly as possible. Damn it! You'd come here for nothing, now you were hungry and a goddamn craving for Joao!

It was clear that seeing him again had had an effect on you, even more so when he looked as fucking hot as he did. You weren't the same as before, now you were both grown up and you had the strength to face him, but he wasn't going to play with you again.

A sigh escaped your lips as no one seemed to appear in the night. Great, what else could go wrong? You'd already ruined dinner, you'd drive home hungry and embarrassed. There were no cabs around and walking was not an option.

Lights flashed in your view as a car approached you, you sighed gratefully. When it parked in front of you, you bit your lower lip with a grimace. It wasn't a cab or an Uber. It was a damn sports car that was worth more than your entire estate put together. It was Joao's car.

You ignored him as he leaned out the window, averting your eyes to the road praying a cab would show up right now. You weren't going to let him drive you home, you weren't going to let him into your life again.

"Stop acting immature, get in" he indicated after a few minutes.

No one had shown up until then. Not even a damn bus that could take you home. But you couldn't give in.

You turned on your heels and started walking briskly, with your head held high and taking it all in. Getting a little further away was a good option and maybe on the way you would find a cab. Beside you, you could see the car start to approach you, and you pressed your lips together indignantly. Why hadn't he left yet? Wasn't it enough for him to see you running out of the restaurant or to ignore him here?

As you walked, the car's lights still shining on you, you could see out of the corner of your eye how he was getting closer and closer to you. You were starting to get annoyed.

"Get in, Y/n, please" he shouted from inside like a plea. "It's late, let me take you home safe and sound" he said again and you stood up with a start.

You hated it. You had done something wrong in this life for karma to pay you back like this, right where it hurt the most. Of course. It's not easy to forget when a man rejects you in your full youth, much less one you liked very much. And he had hurt you so much.

You sigh cursing and grab the doorknob of the car, opening the door to sit in the seat with a serious little pout on your face. You stare straight ahead at all times, not giving him the pleasure of looking at you even though you know he smiled like he had won the lottery.

"Don't say a word" you point out angrily. Joao nods with a chuckle and sets off.

The silence is overwhelming inside the car and you can feel the nerves stinging on the tips of your toes. Your palms sweat and you don't know what to do. There is no music, no words. There are only sighs and the voice of the geolocator pointing the way to your house.

The tension becomes more and more suffocating, at times you find it hard to breathe and your gaze wanders a little to the boy's place. You swallow as your eyes focus on his muscular thighs and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Joao notices your tension and turns from time to time to look at you, making it increasingly difficult.

Damn it. Through the window you catch a glimpse of his profile and your heart races at the sight of him looking so calm, when you're a mess inside thanks to him. The heat in your neck makes you swallow your saliva nervously, the trip seems to take forever and you start to get anxious about getting home.

A current of electricity runs down your back when Joao's hand releases the steering wheel and goes to your leg. Your breath hitches and you freeze. His fingers dig into your inner thigh and you stifle a gasp in your throat as he gently caresses you. You want to grab his hand and pull it away but you cannot. He's left you speechless. You don't even recognize yourself right now, but the fire begins to grow inside you and you despair that you can't control it.

You're thankful when you start to recognize the houses in your neighborhood, knowing you're close to home makes you feel a little safe. You need to get out of this car before something else grows inside you.

When his car parks in front of your house, you sigh to fill your sick lungs with air. You haven't breathed easy since his hand caressed you and when his hand is removed from your body, the air rushes back into your system. You open the door, staggering, anxious to get out. You listen as Joao also gets out of the car and you watch him from the corner of your eye circle the car.

On his face is a seductive smile, a smile that makes you think he won. Damn it, you should never have let him bring you home. Or let him touch you. «Great, Y/N, you're an idiot!»

When he's close to you, he's leaning against the side of the hood of his car, his hands in his pockets, staring at you. Your body is on its side, you turn your back to him and it's now that you feel humiliated. You have to thank him, it's the least you can do for driving here but your face falls in shame. You hug your body, giving yourself some reassurance and turn around facing him.

"Thanks for the ride" you say simply.

The distance between you is prudent but you know that doesn't ensure you feel your belly contract as you see him there, licking his lips with his exalted gaze on you. Your eyes tremble as they meet his, you try to look away but you can't help but think how cute they are. Everything about him. Damn it.

"My pleasure, Y/n" he says softly. You nod with a grimace.

You make the feint to turn around but stop yourself. You can't, your body acts on its own. You run up to him and kiss him without saying anything. Even though you took him by surprise, Joao rests his hands on your hips and pulls you to him, kissing your lips. Your tongues dance in rhythm, while your hands are busy caressing his chest. The taste of his mouth is still intact in your memory, recalling your first kiss years ago.

When the images of that night that was so special for you (but nothing special for Joao) come into your head, you quickly pull away from him. Your lips are numb and heavy, your heart pounding and the fire in your chest burning.

It was a nice kiss but that will be all.

You won't see him again, you don't want to see him again. This is just part of your mistake in having gone on the date in the first place. Tomorrow you can forget about it as long as you stay away from Joao.

Just like that, you turn and walk quickly for home, escaping his nets before it's too late.

It's not too late, is it?

#football imagines #imagine #football one shot #fc barcelona #joao felix x reader #joao felix x you #joao felix imagine #joao felix #strawberryblue blog

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alwaysonthemend · 1 month ago

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A/N: Happy belated new years, everyone! I hope each of you had a wonderful holiday season. Apologies for this being a day later than intended – I hope you all enjoy it.

Thank you for sticking with me even though I've been MIA lately <3

(and if you saw me accidently post this last night... no you didn't)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY / minors dni / typos, probably / cussing / unrequited love (but not really) / p in v sex / unprotected sex / fluffy smut / jake being amazing

Word Count: 7k

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There was really no one to blame but yourself.

No matter how many times you had tried to logic your way out of this being your fault… well. You always came back to the same conclusion. This was entirely, irrevocably, and utterly your own fault.

Holidays have never been the easiest for you – seasonal depression coupled with a healthy dose of loneliness has never been a mixture that makes the Christmas season particularly enjoyable for you. Not that you weren’t learning to be okay with being single; not at all. In fact, you would much rather be alone than settle for someone who doesn’t treat you right. But something about the holidays just seems to make all that hurt and loneliness more powerful than usual.

Christmas day had been alright – you had spent the day with a few loved ones and exchanged gifts and shared a meal. Looking forward to seeing the people closest to you had been what got you through the dreary, cold days leading up to Christmas. But now that the day has come and gone, now that you’re stuck in the weird in-between of Christmas and New Years, you find yourself particularly lonely.

So, when you had received an invite to a company New Years party, you had been less than thrilled at the thought of spending another New Year with nosy coworkers who cared more about getting to know someone for gossip than actual friendship. You were even less thrilled at the prospect of yet another New Year of being single. In fact, you’d been quite content with skipping the event entirely, but you’d made the mistake of mentioning the affair to your best friend Jake, who had been helping you with some home renovations the week before. He had promptly scolded you for being a spoilsport, insisting on an alternative way to spend your New Years Eve.

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“I don’t want to go alone.”

Jake grins and rolls his eyes playfully at you. “So dramatic. Just come with me to my family’s get together, then.”

“Oh Lord no.” You exclaim. “That’s even worse! I don’t know most of them, other than Josh. I can’t just invite myself to a family function.”

“You’re not.” Jake quips, plopping down beside you on your sofa. “I’m inviting you to my family function.”

“Absolutely not.”

Jake looks at you unimpressed, narrowing his eyes the way he does when he’s thinking. “There’s only one alternative, then.” Jake continues to stare, waiting for you to ask what he means. When you don’t give him the bait he’s looking for, he continues on anyway. “I come to your office party with you, then.”

“How is that the only alternative? I do my thing, you do your family thing. That’s the alternative.” You can feel yourself growing frustrated the longer this argument goes on – Jake may mean well, but he’s like a dog with a bone sometimes and just doesn’t seem to know when to quit… and right now seems to be one of those times. You don’t want to go to someone’s else’s family function; you don’t want to go to a stupid office party – let alone by yourself; you would much rather just be alone at home.

“I can’t let you spend New Year's Eve at a shitty office party or alone here. That would make me the worst best friend ever.” Jake leans backwards onto the sofa, dramatically tossing his head back to rest on the back of the couch. “Besides, it’s in the contract.”

“Jake, nothing is in that damn contract. You made it up.” The Best Friends Contract was something that he had announced was in existence a few years ago in order to explain away his reasoning for always paying for your food when the two of you hang out. “The Best Friend Contract states that a good best friend must never turn down being paid for when the other is more than happy to cover.” You’d called bullshit on the first utterance but it has unfortunately stuck as his go to excuse for anything he did that you tried to argue with him about.

“Don’t you disrespect the contract like that.” He reaches up and pinches a bit of your hair at the ends with his fingers and tugs a little. “It clearly states in the contract that a best friend never lets the other spend New Years Eve alone.” He tugs again just to be a little shit and then grins widely at you. “I don’t make the rules, sweetheart.”

“Yes, you literally do.” You swat his hand away from your hair, fighting back a smile of your own. “And besides, even if you did show up at my office party, it would end up being awkward.”

“Elaborate.” He demands, reaching up to mess with your hair again and then pouting when you smack his hand away for the second time.

“You know how nosy my coworkers are. They’ll all be asking all night if we’re dating and I’ll have to explain: no, he’s not my boyfriend; no, he’s just my best friend; and yes, he’s a guy and yes, he’s still my best friend.” You huff dramatically – you’ve dealt with it all before with him at parties or events where people can’t seem to understand that a man and a woman can be best friends without it meaning more. “It’ll be awkward and annoying for everyone involved, Jake.”

“So we pretend.” He replies simply, shrugging as if it’s an obvious conclusion. “Just say we’re together and no one will be the wiser.”

“Jake… how on Earth do you think that will be less awkward?”

He just shrugs in answer, still grinning like an idiot at you. “It’ll be fun. Like a game.” He leans in closer, his grin turning a little wicked. “Unless you're scared.”

“Of what?” You demand, trying to ignore the way your stomach feels like it’s doing back flips when he looks at you like that.

“Dunno.” He leans back, looking completely innocent again. “You tell me.”

You sigh, knowing that he’s already won. “Fine.”

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The thing is, you don’t know his siblings or the rest of his extended family very well, but you know how much Jake loves them. So why on Earth would he rather come with you as a fake boyfriend to a shitty office party instead of spending time with them? You’d asked him as much… demanded, even, why on Earth he wanted to skip spending the night with his family. He just smiled at you like he’d been doing for the entire stupid argument and said it was in the contract – a best friend never lets the other spend New Years Eve alone, even if it means pretending to be a significant other.

So here you are, waiting anxiously for him to come pick you up. You had chosen a long dress for the occasion – just a little too tight in certain areas that you normally don’t like to draw attention to, but it was a little too late now to find something else. You’d styled your hair the way you normally do, though you had added a little more makeup than usual and a glossy lip to top off the look. You’ve been ready for the better part of an hour now since you always tend to start getting ready early when you’re nervous.

I have no reason to be nervous, you keep telling yourself, it’s just Jake. But that last part is exactly why you’re nervous. You still have no idea why he’s so willing to do this for you – why he’s content with being a fake date at an office party where he doesn’t know anyone instead of spending a fun night partying with his family. Not to mention, the thought alone of Jake in a nice suit makes butterflies erupt in your tummy.

What if he’s only doing this out of pity? What if he’s miserable the whole time? What if it’s awkward pretending to be together and he regrets ever agreeing to this? What if-

The questions swirl through your mind at such a constant rate that you’re quite sure you may vomit from the nerves before he ever even arrives. You’re moments from texting him and calling off the whole thing but then comes the knock at the door – and you know that he’s the only person it could be.

Steeling yourself and resolving to act like a big girl, you rise up from your seat on the sofa and open the front door.

“Wow.” The word slips from your lips without your brain being able to fully process, yet you can’t think of anything else to say. Jake has always been attractive – going from being a cute young man when you first met to the handsome one standing before you right now. The all black outfit suits him; black always does. His hair is freshly washed, the ends delicately curling against his shoulders. His usual necklaces adorn his neck, with a few extra bracelets and rings added to the ones he usually wears.

Chocolate eyes crinkle slightly as he smiles, his head tilting just barely to the left as he regards you. “I hope that was a good “wow” and not a bad one.” He glances down, a tiny hint of shyness to the action.

“No. It-” you clear your throat, “it was a good “wow.” You look very handsome.” You’re quick to recover, mentally shaking yourself.

“And you look wonderful.” His eyes give you a once over, making you feel both emboldened by your choice of dress and slightly embarrassed. “I’m a very lucky man to have you as my fake girlfriend.”

The joke breaks the slight awkwardness of the moment and you laugh softly. He’s always been good at that.

“And I’m a lucky fake girlfriend.” You grab your bag from the hook on the wall and step out into the chilly night with him. He hovers beside you as you lock your door, and then the two of you walk side by side to the warmth of his waiting car.

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Your pulse is racing as you and Jake enter your office building. It only gets faster still as the two of you get onto the elevator.

“Nervous?” Jake asks as you press the button for the correct floor. The doors closing feels like a curtain call of doom.

“A little.” You shrug, but Jake’s concern for you is written all over his face. “Some of my coworkers can just be a lot.” You explain, hoping that will be enough explanation for him and he won’t go digging further into your other fears for tonight.

“I’ll just use my natural boyish charm.” Jake grins and loops his arm with yours as the elevator dings.

“Boyish? You’re almost 30.”

Jake gasps dramatically and then tugs you off the elevator and towards the party that’s already been started for a good 30 minutes. One of the TVs on the wall has been turned to a countdown for midnight. You recognize many of the guests, though there are several that you don’t – likely other people’s plus ones that you’re sure they’ve been dying to show off. Though there’s one woman that stands out… the one woman that you absolutely didn’t want to see tonight.

“Who are you death staring at?” Jake murmurs into your ear, startling you a little. When did he move that close?

“Her name’s Jess. And she’s a stuck up bitch.”

“Woah.” Jake's eyes widen at your harsh words and looks back towards her, his eyes giving her a once over. “She’s definitely, um..” Her dress is skin tight and short, barely covering anything. Big hair and high stilettos makes it so that she sticks out like a sore thumb. “She’s definitely got a style.”

You giggle a little at his attempt to be nice – in all the time you’ve known him, you can’t think of a single time when he’s ever insulted a woman’s appearance or choice of dress, even when it’s totally warranted.

“Aaand she’s walking over here.” Jake supplies, making you scowl at him.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ noticed.” You say lowly, clenching your teeth in what you hope is a convincing smile. “Jess! Hey.”

She smiles widely at you, flashing her overly white teeth. “Y/n! I didn’t think you would show tonight.” Her perfume is so strong you’re pretty sure you’re already getting a headache by the time she makes it to you. You begin to explain that Jake wanted to come but she’s quick to interrupt you as soon as her eyes land on him.

“Well it’s certainly lovely to meet you.” She purrs, stepping closer to him and practically turning her back to you. “I’m Jess.” She extends her hand, which Jake shakes just barely before dropping it again.

“Jake. It’s nice to meet you as well.” His smile is tight, mostly forced, but she either doesn’t care or is too stupid to notice.

“Now tell me how you managed to snag this handsome young man, Y/n?”

Already your heart rate is starting to pick up, anger and hurt at her apparent disbelief that you’re dating him making you want to reach up and rip her obnoxious strip lashes off her eyes. Even though it’s the truth, your brain not-so-kindly reminds you.

“Well, I-”

“We’ve been friends for years.” Jake interrupts you, taking a side step closer to hook his arm with yours once again. “Naturally, I fell in love with her the very first time I met her.” Those chocolate eyes find yours, a comforting warmth in them that instantly makes you feel better. “But I only recently managed to work up the nerve to ask her out.”

His tone is sickeningly love-struck, so believable that you have to stop yourself from openly staring at him in shock as he speaks. You find yourself nodding along, more than happy to play along that you’re both in love with each other.

“Of course, I had feelings for him the whole time, too.” You squeeze his arm a little. “Just never thought he felt the same. Turns out we were both oblivious.”

“But here we are.” Jake turns to look at you again as he speaks, those warm eyes making you feel all melty and gooey inside.

“Here we are.”

Jess, for her part, manages to seem utterly crestfallen as the two of you speak, as if she had known Jake for years and been in love with him, too. Eventually, she turns her nose up in the way she does when she feels offended and plasters a saccharine smile onto her painted lips. “Well how sweet is that?” She asks, though gives no time for either of you to speak further. “Well, there’s still plenty of people for me to see tonight so you two enjoy yourselves.”

She’s gone before either of you can reply, disappearing and leaving nothing but the smell of her sweet perfume.

“See?” Jake asks, tugging you towards the refreshments. “Not so bad.”

“Sure.” You scowl but gratefully take the cup of punch that he offers you.

–

A few other coworkers come to say hello, with the two of you giving the same performance each time you get asked how the two of you met. It gets easier, and each time it happens you can almost picture the story that the two of you weave – Jake shyly admitting he’s been in love with you, you declaring you love him back, you kiss, happily ever after, blah blah blah. It’s too easy to imagine and you find yourself wishing that you were anywhere but here with anyone but him.

Jake glances towards you, probably noticing that you’re standing there as stiff as a board, trying to look romantic and in-love while sipping punch like it’s a secret weapon against the sheer discomfort you’re feeling.

“Hey,” he nudges your shoulder with his, “at least try to look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

You turn to look at him, rolling your eyes at the teasing grin that awaits you. “I don’t know how you’re doing this. This is a nightmare.”

“It’s not so bad. It’s funny watching people try to act like they’re nicer than they are.” Your heart warms a little – Jake very rarely ever complains, no matter how shitty a situation, so of course tonight is no different. His suit is a little wrinkled now from almost an hour of milling about and mingling, and his tie slightly askew in a way that’s almost charming, but also makes you want to reach up and fix it. You hate that you notice things like that about him. “Besides,” he continues, taking a sip of his own punch, “you have plenty of practice with being around these people. You should be used to it.”

You snort at him. “Yeah, well, there’s a difference between working with people and pretending that we’re, you know, in love around them.”

Jake laughs a little. “I think you were doing just fine. But our little charade has become a bit lackluster.” He grins a little, the mischievous one that he does when he’s up to nothing good. “Maybe we could work on a kiss or something. You know, really sell it.”

Your eyes widen as you choke on your punch. “I– what?”

“Okay, maybe not a kiss.” Jake adds on quickly after your reaction. “But we’re barely convincing anyone right now. You look like you’re getting ready to ask me about the office coffee order, not like you want to whisk me away for a midnight kiss.”

Okay, so maybe he’s a little right on that one. You glance around, trying to think of anything other than kissing Jake, when your eyes land on the makeshift dance floor.

“Come dance with me.”

“Um.” Jake answers eloquently, “I don’t dance. You know that.”

“Actually,” you begin, already tugging him forward by the arm, “I’m pretty sure that it’s in the contract that you have to dance with me.” Jake opens his mouth to say something but you speak before he can. “And don’t say it’s not. You make shit up about the contract all the time. It’s my turn.”

Jake groans. “Fine.” He mutters, scowling at you as you tug him through the people who are already dancing with their significant others. It’s only 11 minutes to midnight now according to the countdown so you figure everyone is gearing up for the big New Year’s kiss. “But only for you.”

Your stomach does stupid little somersaults when he says that but you ignore them. The room had been filled with the chatter of voices but as soon as you press closer to Jake they grow silent, as if the world beyond the two of you completely disappears. Jake stands awkwardly, his hands hovering just barely above your waist, unsure of where to land. His gaze maps out every inch of your face except your eyes and a tiny blush dusts his cheeks.

“Are you blushing?”

Jake scoffs, his palms finally settling fully onto your hips. “No, I’m not blushing.” He stage whispers at you, though you’re pretty sure no one is paying enough attention to have heard him. “I’m nervous. I don’t dance.”

Although you feel equally as flustered – probably more so than Jake, you feel oddly at ease this close to him. You choose not to examine that feeling too deeply at the moment. “I can tell…” you tease, taking one of his hands off your waist with your own. “We hold hands with this one.”

“Oh.” He mutters softly, his gaze flickering to your shoes. He offers his hand for you to take, looking as if he was offering a fragile gift.

Hyper-aware of every minute rise and fall of his chest with each breath and every flutter of your own heart, you take his hand. “Right.” You answer, smiling a little at him, noticing every single detail – of his warm fingers, of their roughness, of how perfect his hand feels in yours.

The music shifts to something a little more lively as the countdown hits 7 minutes now, though you and Jake have yet to actually start dancing.

“So, um…” You begin softly, trying to fill the silence that is quickly becoming awkward. “I guess we just… move around a little?”

Jake’s eyes find yours, comedically widened and you can’t help but laugh at the fact that this is what finally has broken his cool demeanor.

“Right. Moving. Moving is good.” Jake’s voice is a little higher than normal and it makes you feel better about your own nerves. “We can, uh, move.”

“You lead.” You remind him, starting to move slowly back and forth with him. “Right? You’re the guy.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” He answers dryly, making you giggle. 5 minutes to midnight. “I thought you were the one who knew how to do this…”

“I do!” You answer, a bit more enthusiastic than you’d meant. “I mean, I do know how to dance. But I’m not… you know, leading.”

He takes a breath, his hand sliding down a fraction to hover over your lower back. You stiffen for just a second before your body relaxes into the contact. “Okay. Leading. I got this,” Jake mutters, his voice carrying an unexpected determination.

Your movements start out a little awkward and timid, but soon the two of you find rhythm with each other, the nerves melting away bit by bit until it feels as if the rest of the world grows muffled – the two of you in your own little universe.

“Not so bad, right?” You ask him, glancing up into those chocolate eyes of his and trying not to get lost in them.

“Nah. Not bad.” He smiles at you, then glances at the countdown on the wall. “Three minutes.”

You nod, your mind suddenly filling with thoughts of what this would feel like if it was real… what it would feel like to kiss him to bring in the new year. It makes your chest squeeze to think about so you say instead, “Thanks again for coming with me to this. I don’t know why you did it… but thank you.”

“Told you… the contract.” He grins but it softens after a moment. “But really, I’d rather be with you, anyway.”

His answer gives you pause. He doesn’t mean… right? Surely he doesn’t mean anything other than that he just enjoys your company as friends. You want so desperately to believe that it could be more. “I feel the same.” You reply quietly. “I mean that- that I would much rather be with you, too. Even at a stupid New Year’s party.”

Jake smiles, a tiny huff of laughter escaping him. He’s so close that you can feel his breath on your face, smell his cologne. His eyes lock with yours and you can’t do anything but stare back. “Speaking of New Years.” His eyes cut to the countdown and then back to you.

Everyone around you begins to count down from ten, their voices blending together – becoming muffled as you once again lose yourself in his gaze.

9….

He wouldn’t be here tonight unless he really wanted to be.

8…

He chose to be here.

7…

With you.

6…

His hand tightens its grip on yours.

5…

Your heart is pounding – so loud it’s like a drum pounding in your ears.

4…

The damn contract… years of wanting him.

3…

God damn it, you’re tired of being afraid and he doesn’t move at all when you lean in.

2…

His eyes flicker to your lips. Fuck it.

1..!

Your lips hit his cheek as he turns his head at the very last second. Stunned, you pull backwards, whipping your hand from his. He looks just as surprised as you do – perhaps even more so. For a moment, neither of you move. The people around you cheer, their excited movements blurring as everything around you moves in slow motion.

“Y/n, I-” Jake cuts himself off as you shake your head, taking a step back from him. Then another. The shame and embarrassment hits all at once, stealing your breath. “Y/n, wait-”

“No!” You shake your head again, walking backwards from him even further. “I- I can’t-” The words won’t come. Nothing you say could ever fix this. Letting instinct take over, you do the only thing you can think of – you turn and run.

People complain and shoot glares as you shove through them, though you pay no mind to anything except getting as far away as possible from him. Distantly, you can hear him call your name again but you don’t look back. The elevator doors open and you practically throw yourself into it, pressing the close button over and over again as you see Jake making his own way through the crowd. In what you can only imagine is an act of pity from the universe, the doors close before he makes it.

–

You manage to hold the tears in until you reach the dark street outside. Fireworks boom in the distance and you can still hear the excited chatter and whoops from inside. The hot tears burn as they run down your face, no doubt ruining your makeup. You must look a mess, but you don’t care. You glance around at the deserted street. He drove. You don’t have a car. But you can’t spend another second with him.

“Y/n!” The building doors slam open and out he comes, his eyes wild and frantically scanning around until he sees you. “Y/n, please!”

You take off running down the pavement. Well… you take off running the best you can in the heels that you had spent so much time picking out because you wanted to impress him. Like a fucking idiot, you think bitterly.

You barely make it 15 feet before his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you backwards and stopping you from going further. He looks so upset, so affected that you almost fall for it. Almost. “What?” You bite out, tugging uselessly at his grip.

“Y/n… please. Give me just one fucking minute to explain.” His voice sounds just as wrecked as he looks.

“There’s nothing to explain. It was a stupid mistake. I don’t- I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking.”

“Just one minute.” He begs and you feel your resolve crumbling. Of course it does. It’s him.

You nod. “One minute.”

“I—” His voice breaks, cracking under the weight of his own panic. He runs a hand through his hair – the way he does when he’s stressed or upset. “I don’t know how to—god, I’m just—I don’t know how to say this.”

“I’m an idiot. And I—I’m in love with you,” he blurts out, the words tumbling out in a rush, like they’ve been stuck in his throat for years and now that they’re coming out too fast to control. “I know it—god, I don’t know why I never said it before. I don’t know how to… to keep pretending I’m just your friend when every time you laugh, or make a stupid joke, or chew on your lip when you’re thinking… it kills me because you’re my best friend and I’m not supposed to love you. But I can’t stop it. I can’t. I’m just—fuck, I’m in love with you.”

What feels like millions of emotions and thoughts hit you all at once, each one slipping away before you can pull a coherent thought together. “Then why… why did you do that?” Confusion, hurt, doubt – each one digging its fingers into the little tiny seed of hope in your chest and throttling it before it can form.

“Because I’m an idiot.” He stresses again, his fingers tightening on your wrist. Without even thinking, you step closer to him, as if your own body is betraying you. “Because I’m scared of fucking this up or of losing you and I can’t-” he rubs his palm over his face with his free hand, his expression scrunching up in frustration. “I didn’t know what it meant. I’d made that stupid joke about us kissing and… and when I realized what was happening I panicked.” The chocolate of his eyes is dimmed, glazed over now with unshed tears. “I was afraid that maybe it didn’t mean anything. And I couldn’t- I wouldn’t survive kissing you and it not meaning anything.”

“But it did!” You insist, finally breaking free from his grasp. “It meant everything.” You wrap your arms around yourself, the chilled breeze finally starting to get to you now that you’re standing still.

“I know. I knew it as soon as I saw your face after and I knew that I’d fucked it up. I knew I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life because it would have meant everything to me, too.” His hands drop defeatedly at his sides, shoulders hanging low – the perfect picture of a man heartbroken. “Let me make it right.” The words are more of a plea, his eyes so sad that you want to reach out and comfort him. “Tell me I can make it right.”

There’s a part of you that wants to keep hiding it forever, to keep burying it deep in your chest where it can’t hurt you. But the louder part of you is tired of waiting, tired of burying it, tired of being afraid.

“I forgive you,” you take a step towards him, closing the gap that had felt like it stretched out for miles, “and I understand why. And I- I love you, too.”

Your eyes flutter closed as his lips find yours at last, his hands finding your hips and guiding you closer to him. You can feel the heat of his skin, the heavy rise and fall of his chest. You can taste the fruity punch from earlier on his tongue, coupled with the taste of him. And you want more of it – more of everything. You want to touch every inch of his skin in the way you’ve always wanted but never been allowed.

He pulls away after what could have been minutes, hours… you can’t tell. All you can focus on is the feeling of him. “I will spend a lifetime making up for what I did to you tonight.” He murmurs, resting his forehead against yours. “I will spend a lifetime making sure that I never see that look on your face ever again – by my own actions or someone else’s.”

“A lifetime?” You ask, loving the feeling of the word on your tongue. A lifetime. A lifetime of him, said so simply – as if he cannot fathom any other ending after this.

“Two lifetimes,” he continues, “three, even. As many as it takes.” His grin turns a little wicked. “Starting with tonight?”

The sudden wave of desire that hits you almost makes you dizzy – you feel yourself nodding, you feel the heat rising from between your thighs and spreading throughout your body like a wildfire. Years of waiting, of wanting. And now you have him. “Take me home, Jake.”

✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉

Your heart is pounding as the two of you tumble through the front door of Jake’s home, both sets of hands exploring each other as his tongue explores your mouth. The ride here is hazy, nothing but a blur as Jake kicks the front door shut behind you. You’ve been to his house plenty of times before so you pay it no mind as Jake starts leading you further into the house and towards the stairs, knowing that his bedroom lies waiting for the two of you upstairs.

You both stumble at the top of the landing, nearly falling over and making you giggle. Jake grins, grabbing your hand and tugging you towards his room. He kicks that door shut, too – and then he’s on you once more, gently pushing you back to the wall. His body cages you in, the feel him pressed so closely making you feel weak in the knees.

“Is this okay?” He asks lowly, his fingers delicately tracing your skin at the tops of your thighs, just barely dipping underneath your dress. Compared to the kiss the two of you just shared, it’s an innocent action, but it feels even more overwhelming because it’s him doing it. At your nod, Jake’s hands continue to explore, his rough fingertips moving higher up and hooking in the elastic band of your panties. “And this?” You nod again and he tugs them down your legs and you step out of them. “Tell me what you want.” Chocolate eyes, almost black, lock onto yours.

“I want you.” You answer him, finding yourself just as breathless as a teenager during her first time.

“As much as I’ve dreamt of hearing that,” he murmurs, “more specific.”

You feel your cheeks grow hot, the words that want to spill out seeming crude in such a delicate moment. But the unbridled want in his eyes makes you say them anyway. “I want you to fuck me.”

He growls a little, a deep rumble in his chest, at that. His hands find your waist and he guides you away from the wall, gently pushing you to the bed. The edge of the mattress presses into the backs of your knees and he guides you to sit.

“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” He answers, sinking down to his knees on the floor in front of you. Deft fingers wrap around your ankle as he lifts your foot slightly and begins to undo the straps of your heels. “But I won’t be doing that tonight.” He lifts your other foot and you glance down at him in confusion. “There’s a million things I want to do to you,” he continues, both shoes now off and placed neatly by the nightstand. “Kiss you, taste you,” he rises, stepping between your parted thighs, “but I won’t be fucking you. I don’t want to do that to you tonight. Ask me what I want to do to you.” He demands softly.

“What,” you can’t help but stare at him, your heart beating so fast you fear it may burst from your chest, “do you want to do to me?”

He grins like a kid in a candy store. “I want to make love to you.” He slips his fingers beneath the straps of your dress and slides them down off your shoulders. “Is that okay?”

Lifting your hips as he helps you out of the dress, you nod. “More than okay.” Summoning every ounce of bravery you have, you reach out and slide his jacket off his shoulders. It falls to the ground alongside your dress. You grab his tie and haul him closer, crashing your lips to his. Frantically, you help him undo the buttons of his shirt, then his slacks, leaving both of you in nothing but his boxers.

“Let me look at you a minute.” He breaks the kiss and pushes you backwards onto the bed. You do your best attempt at scooching backwards in what you hope is a graceful, sexy way, but he pays it no mind. His eyes roam your skin, lingering on your bare breasts, then down to your exposed pussy. You want to cover yourself, to hide yourself away from his piercing gaze but he stops you from moving away with his palms settling on your knees. “Don’t do that,” he whispers, spreading your thighs further, “don’t hide from me. You’re perfect. Stunning.”

Jake lowers himself between your legs, his arms hooking under your thighs and pulling you closer to him. His eyes lift to yours. “Let me taste you? Please?” He begs, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

It’s the “please” that gets you, slick dripping out of you even more. You nod your head. He presses a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh. Then the other side. Then a little higher. Hips squirming, you mutter his name. “Don’t tease.”

“I’m not teasing.” Another kiss, this one closer to where you want him, but still too far. “I’m taking my time. I want to remember every second.”

Finally, his tongue laps against your aching clit and you cry out, one hand fisting in the sheets and the other reaching down to tangle in his hair. Jake moans against you, his eyes closing in concentration as he circles your clit, toying with you, seeing what movements make you squirm the most. His brows furrow as he dips lower, his tongue pressing just barely into your entrance before swiping back upwards to your clit. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever done before – he’s unlike anyone you’ve ever had before. He’s paying attention, finding what makes you tick and using it to coax the warmth in your lower belly to spread.

You feel yourself arching upwards, grinding your soaked pussy against his mouth. He groans into your heat, two fingers now prodding at your entrance as his tongue never lets up. His fingers press in deeper, stretching you out as you climb higher and higher to a peak that you know you won’t return from. Cracking your eyes open, you peak down at him again, and you can barely stand the sight that awaits there. His eyes are still closed, his brows drawn together with determination. His mouth attached to your clit and his fingers hidden inside you, curling so deliciously. But what really gets you – the final nail in the coffin that sends you so deep into pleasure you fear you’ll never return, is the way his hips grind desperately into the mattress, as if the very act of bringing you pleasure has rendered him unable to wait for his own.

“Jake, I’m gonna come.” You warn him, and he only nods his head in answer, his tongue working harder and his fingers faster at your broken warning. Your orgasm is a steady build, starting deep in your belly and working its way outwards, engulfing every nerve-ending with white hot pleasure. Distantly, you hear him moan as your thighs tighten around his face, as your walls clench around his fingers.

Your body is trembling when he finally pulls away, his fingers then instantly being brought to his mouth. He sits up, his eyes closing again as he licks your release from them before they open again and find your dark gaze. He gives you a lazy grin, his chest and face flushed. “I knew you’d taste sweet.” He tells you, climbing his way upwards towards you to kiss you. You can taste yourself on him and you already want more of him.

“I need you inside me.” You demand, your hands mapping out every inch of his skin that you can reach before hooking in the waistband of his boxers and tugging them down.

Every inch of him is just as perfect as you’d imagined it to be. A perfect length and mouth-wateringly thick. His swollen head is flushed and glistening with precum. Slightly bashful, he leans down and kisses you again.

You reach between your bodies and wrap your fingers around him. He draws back and whines, his body going tense as you work him a little, smearing his precum over his throbbing length. “Fuck, Y/n.” He mutters, placing his forearms on either side of you. After a few pumps, you guide him between your legs, lining him up with your entrance. He starts to press in slowly, his lips wrapping around your left nipple and sucking softly as he sheaths himself inside of you. Both of you cry out softly, your quiet, panting breaths mingling with the other’s. He fills you perfectly, the stretch so delicious you never want to be without him inside you again. “You feel…” He never finishes, instead moving over to suckle at your other breast.

“Move, baby.” You beg and he instantly obeys you, drawing out from you and then pushing back in, his pace slow but pointed and powerful. Your hands grip his shoulders, sliding down to hold tightly at his biceps as he rocks into you.

He pulls away from your tit to look down at you, his pupils so wide his eyes look black. The bed frame creaks with each powerful thrust of his hips. “I won’t last with you looking at me like that,” he murmurs, seizing his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You feel so fucking good, baby.” You fight to keep your eyes from fluttering shut – you want to see his face, to see the way it contorts and twists in pleasure.

“You feel even better.” He brings his thumb up to your lips, dragging it across your bottom lip before pressing into your mouth. You suckle at it, moaning around it. He moans too, then pulls the digit from between your lips and drops his hand to rub your swollen clit in time with his thrusts. “Need you to come first, angel. Wanna feel you squeeze around my cock.”

You can feel your second orgasm building, your body starting to tremble as he starts to move faster, his cock twitching inside of you as you both near the edge. His lips part, desperate little groans filling the air between you as he fights back his own release. “Please, baby.” He urges, and that’s all it takes. The band inside your belly finally snaps, your vision going white around the edges as your orgasm rocks through you. He thrusts into you frantically, working you through your release before pulling out of you, ropes of hot cum painting your lower belly as he finishes.

Both of you are left panting, the meaning of what just happened and the weight of what’s been confessed tonight settling over the two of you like a weighted blanket.

“I love you,” Jake offers, pressing his lips to yours for another kiss, “and I’ll keep kissing you as many times a day as you’ll let me to make up for the one I didn’t give you at midnight.”

You can’t help but grin up at him, already knowing that no one could ever hold a candle to the man who’s gazing down at you with nothing but reverence in his eyes. “I love you, too.”

✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉

Fin

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ohmybueckers · 28 days ago

Text

Never Strangers: Chapter One

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: drinking, author who is terrible about being consistent with tenses, incredibly down bad main characters (be gentle with Paige and Maya guys, the first love WLW situationship breakup is ROUGH)

Authors note: Not sure exactly how I feel about this chapter, but I feel like it gives a decent amount of context. Prepare for more flashbacks next chapter. Also this is highkey not proofread so … approach with caution there.

August 26, 2023

The drive from Stamford to Storrs is about two hours, traffic permitting. My mom waits approximately 20 minutes before she begins the inevitable interrogation session into the state of my life. More specifically, the train wreck it has become.

“You know, I really think you should consider rejoining mock trial. You loved it for so long, and look how many friends you made.” She rambles, her eyes never leaving I-95. “You probably would have never met Brooke if you hadn’t joined mock trial.”

Brooke and I met as co-counselors at a mock trial summer intensive for high schoolers at Yale the summer after my freshman year of college. Turns out trying to keep track of a bunch of hormonal fifteen year olds is a bonding experience like no other. She quickly became my formerly long-distance best friend and very soon-to-be roommate.

“I told you, I’ll check it out when I get there.” I say, half telling the truth and half just trying to get her to change the subject. Clearly, my attempt was failing.

“I just want to make sure you’re making the most of college. I know University of Minnesota was not your thing, but I want you to find your why when it comes to Connecticut.”

I sighed. One of the perks of having a therapist as a mother is that you always have someone to listen to your petty problems without judgement. The downside is that she’s always trying to dig deeper, even when I really do not want to. “My why is being close to you. Plus, UConn is close enough to New York.”

“And close to Paige.” This remark nearly makes me choke.

“Mom!”

“Sorry, sorry!” She quickly apologizes, though knowing her she knew damn well what kind of reaction she would receive. I never told her full details of what actually went down between us - maybe because I thought it would be too embarrassing, or maybe because I knew that if she ended up in my mom’s bad graces, there was no coming back from that. All she knew is that at one point we were friends, then we were more than friends, and then things got messed up and we don’t talk anymore. She also knows that I really don’t like talking about it with her. “Does she know you’re coming?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know, I didn’t tell her.”

The last text I had sent Paige was shortly after the basketball player announced she tore her ACL. Despite the tension between us, it felt wrong to say nothing in these circumstances. Basketball was Paige’s world, and I couldn’t even fathom the grief she must have felt. I received a “thank you maya, i hope you’re doing well. miss u” in return. It took everything in me not to call the blonde after reading the last five letters.

Thankfully, my moms line of questioning ends there, and she returns to the driving playlist we made together the night before, an eclectic mix of 80’s hits with the occasional R&B ballad. Occasionally I hear her sing along, letting the crack of fresh air from the car window flow through her almost-black hair. Some people say I’m basically her twin: same dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin, and short stature. I just wish I got a fraction of her curves.

The rest of the car ride, I alternate between reading the newest Emily Henry book and messaging Brooke, who has been sending me updates on our new apartment. She moved into a couple of days ago while my mom and I were still on our girls trip to New York City, and her texts ranged from “ill give you the room with the ensuite bathroom if i can have the bigger room” (deal) to “our neighbors are FINE” (knowing her taste in men, doubtful).

After what feels like too long in the car (maybe I never actually got over my tendency to get carsick), we pull into a lot. there it is: My new apartment, a small building surrounded by others similar to it and tall trees, still wrapped in vibrant green hues untouched by the incoming fall. I hear a yell from across the lot as I step out, but I’m so overwhelmed by the new sensations in Storrs that it takes my brain a moment to process that the tall figure running across the lot with a truly impressive speed was my best friend.

Brooke barrels towards me, wrapping me in a hug that nearly tips me over. “About time you got here!” She grabs my shoulders, her white acrylics a comfortably familiar sensation on my skin, before turning to my mom with her award-winning smile. “It’s so good to finally meet you! I’m Brooke. Wow, you could have convinced me you two were sisters. You’re gonna have to give me your skincare routine before you leave.” She gestures to my mom, who giggles. I can tell that her day has been made.

I will never fail to tell Brooke Jones that she is perhaps the most charismatic person I have ever met. When I’m in Mock Trial, I will fight to make my voice heard. Outside of the courtroom, however, I tend to lean on the more reserved side. On the first day of counselor training, it was as if she could sniff out how nervous I was and made it her personal mission to befriend me. And one thing about Brooke: she will make you talk. Somehow I don’t mind it as much when I’m with her.

So it’s a great sight when Brooke and my mom trail ahead of me, hands filled with various decor items and chatting (I think I hear one of them mention bringing out photos of me in seventh grade, an action I know I will have to intercept later for my own sanity).

About three hours later, with the hard work of the three of us supplemented by SZA’s discography, my space is set up just enough to where I can sleep comfortably for the next few nights. Brooke pulls my mom in first, after getting her phone number “for emergencies”. Next, it’s my turn.

“Alright, you know what I’m about to say.”

“We’re not going to throw a party, I know you’re worried about the security deposit.” Behind my mom’s shoulder, I could see Brooke’s brows furrow as she mouthed don’t promise that.

“No, I meant have fun. Take risks. Find your why,” She grabs my shoulders at the last word for emphasis, and it’s hard to believe that this is my real life and not some after school motivational special.

We embrace one last time. Despite her cheesy moments, I am reminded just how much I’m going to miss seeing my mom every day. After three years of being in closer proximity to my dad, it was nice to spend the summer in Stamford, my days filled with NYT crossword games by the water and day trips into New York City. This summer solidified that it didn’t even need to be Boston - I was just happier on the east coast.

“I like your mom, she’s sweet.” I hear Brooke say as we watch the white Toyota leave the parking lot from our third floor window. Our view is perfect, and I picture what it will be like to watch the leaves change from it as the semester goes on. It makes the last few hours of lugging furniture and suitcases up flights of stairs worth it.

“I love her when she’s not trying to psychoanalyze every decision I make,” I chuckle, moving to continue unpacking some miscellaneous items in the kitchen.

Brooke follows me. “Is that what that whole ‘find your why’ thing was about?”

“Got a whole interrogation in the car. Everyone in my family thinks I’m having some sort of crisis,” I place a stack of plates (a gift from my mom’s boyfriend) in a cabinet. “She even suggested I came here for Paige.”

Brooke stands there, her lips falling into a flat line. She is taking far too long to respond for my preference. My jaw falls, eyes widening. “Stop.”

Brooke lifts her hands in surrender. “Ok, I would be lying if I said it hasn’t crossed my mind.”

My head falls into my hand, fingers pinching the bridge of my nose as my eyes shut. “I swear to god, why does everyone think I chose to go to UConn because of Paige?”

“Maybe because other people definitely have.” Ok, Brooke does have a point. While I have done everything in my power to not think about the blonde, everyone else has been increasingly trying to get in her orbit. I’ve even seen a handful of edits made for her in the past few months as people anticipate her first season back from her injury.

I shake my head. “I’m not that dumb. I’m here for-“

“In-state tuition and to be closer to me and your mom, I know.” Brooke finishes, coming around to wrap one arm around me. It’s her way to both apologize and check in on me. While I appreciate the gesture, a small part of me feels guilty - like I have gotten use to people extending pity to me for one reason or another: my parent’s divorce, the move to Minnesota, Paige, transferring schools. It gets to a point where I just want to win at something.

I lean into her embrace, smelling the citrus in her hair product. “I know I was down bad for a while, but I promise I’m fine.”

I feel Brooke nod above me. “Good, because she’s kinda everywhere on campus. Even if you don’t run into her, people don’t shut up about her.” This was to be expected, a fact I have been preparing myself for months for. I decided it’s just something I’m going to have to get used to, like many things in life.

“Well, why don’t we shut up about Paige and order some food. I’m starving,” I exclaim, moving towards my phone to pull up Doordash. Perhaps my first win can be proving to people that I can thrive at UConn and absolutely not fixate on Paige Bueckers.

“Okay, okay. You good if we invite my cousin Adria to come over too? She’s chill I swear.” I remember Brooke telling me about Adria last summer, how she was entering her freshman year at `UConn at the time. I nod in agreement, excited to host my first get together in my new space.

////

Just an hour and a half later, the three of us are sat in the sparsely furnished living room, eating pad thai surrounded by a large collection of boxes. Upon one look at Adria when she stepped through our front door, I could tell her and Brooke were related: both had the same long legs, clear deep complexion and white smiles that looked like they belonged on billboards. Where they differed was in dress: while Brooke wore the same blue sweat set that she helped me unpack in, Adria was dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a boho white tank top, a cascade of black and blonde braids down her back and an “A” necklace around her neck.

Adria is only a sophomore, and yet from the first hour I have known her she appears far more put together than I was at this time last year. It’s evident in the way she talks about her pre-professional sorority, or in the way she talks about getting ahead of internship applications for the next summer. It would almost be irritating if she wasn’t also so charming.

“So what brought you to UConn?” Adria asks me from the other end of the couch.

“Well, I tried U of M. My dad and his new girlfri… new wife,” The correction felt bitter on my tongue in a way that made me feel guilty. “They live out there, so I got in-state. It just wasn’t for me. I decided to transfer here just in case I still want to go to law school, since my mom lives in-state and I don’t want to go further in debt than I need to.”

“What do you mean if you still want to go to law school?” Brooke questions, her face incredulous. “Wasn’t that your whole plan since you were in, like, fourth grade?”

I love Brooke with everything in me, on the deepest platonic soulmate level there is. I tell her everything - except for the fact that I don’t know if I still want to practice law outside of college. I guess if I said it out loud to her, the girl who I once dreamed of going to law school with, practicing in the same city with before opening a shared practice, it would become more real: that I was seemingly blowing up all I’ve known with no plan B. She already thinks me dropping mock trial is some sign of an incoming mental breakdown.

“I’m just… exploring all of my options.” I muster, though from the furrow in Adria’s brow it must not be as believable as I would have hoped. Judging by the way Brooke’s shoulders appeared to relax, however, it at least worked on her. Eager to switch the attention off of myself, I turn to the younger girl once more. “Adria, what are you studying?”

“I’m kinesiology, trying to become a physical therapist. Maybe do some athletic training?”

Brooke chokes back a laugh, waving her hand. “She’s just saying that because she’s fucking someone on the basketball team.”

If there’s one similarity between Adria and I, it’s the way both of our jaws drop at Brooke’s candor. Her cousin seems particularly taken off guard, throwing her hands up with a, “Jesus Christ, Brooke!”

I can’t help but laugh at the dynamic. “Who is he?”

“She’s on the women’s team.” The word she rings in my ears as my cheeks get hot with embarrassment. I’m literally a lesbian, I thought she was above assuming sexuality based on looks after having it done to me throughout the summer by daddy’s money frat guys in Stamford. Adria scratched the back of her neck, her cheeks flushing. “Um, KK Arnold?”

I’ve only seen the name in passing, during a late night scan of the women’s basketball roster that I would never admit to. KK was the new recruit from Wisconsin to my memory … or was it Indiana?

“She got a job with athletics over the summer. Somehow her and KK crossed paths and they’ve been hooking up since.” Brooke took a bite of her noodles between sentences, filling in the gaps that Adria left.

“We haven’t even had sex, chill.” Adria held a hand up to her sister, but the shy look never left her face. “KK’s nice though. I think I could really like her, which totally sucks because basketball players aren’t exactly the relationship type.”

“Looks like you both have the same type.” Brooke says through another bite.

Silence falls on the room, followed by a confused “What?” from Adria.

A part of me wants to be frustrated with Brooke for bringing it up - the last thing I want is to be known at UConn as just a girl who got with the basketball star. However, Adria seems like a kind person, and she did just confide in me about KK. Part of me feels like I owe her an explanation in some sick way. With a sigh, I give her the context. “Brooke is giving me shit because a long time ago, in high school, I kinda had a thing with Paige Bueckers.”

The younger girl looks at me for a beat as if she can’t believe the words that just came out of my mouth. Once she gets a minute to reboot, she explodes “Like Paige Bueckers Paige Bueckers?Holy shit!”

“Don’t say anything, it was a really, really long time ago,” I plea, recognizing that she was acquainted to one of her teammates. Oh god, the last thing I need is KK telling Paige that her … whatever Adria was … told her that her sister’s friend is still hung up on her or something.

“I won’t, I promise.” Adria holds both hands up, a move that must be genetic. “You’re not gonna hit her up now that you’re on her campus?”

“Yeah, I’ll pass,” I say, taking a bite of my own food. I try to ignore the way my stomach flips at how Adria claimed the entirety of University of Connecticut as belonging to Paige somehow. As if there was no room for me. “She may be great at basketball, but that girl does not do emotions.”

“Well, I’m not exactly surprised.” Adria shrugs. My head snaps back up, and Brooke shoots her cousin a pointed look.

“What do you mean?”

Adria continues, “I mean, its not a secret Paige kinda has a reputation here.”

So much for not fixating on Paige Bueckers. My mind races as I ask, “What kind of reputation?” although based on her tone and the context, I can make my own educated guesses.

“She just gets with a lot of girls on campus.” Adria speaks slowly, her expression somehow guilty. “My freshman year roommates friend got with her. Said she slept with her one night and never talked to her again.”

It’s not like I had no clue that Paige had no issue moving on from me once she got to Storrs. For one, she didn’t seem to have an issue doing such a thing when we were together in the first place. She had also heard rumors through the grapevine at school during her senior year, with people saying that they knew someone whose sister was friends with someone who got with Paige or some outlandish connection like that. Hearing confirmation from someone in Storrs somehow made it more confirmed in my mind. That all Paige wants is to kiss as many girls as possible, touch as many girls as possible, fuck as many girls as possible. Maybe that’s why she started acting so cold and things fell apart. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t enough for her, I can’t help my mind from thinking bitterly.

“Can’t say I’m surprised.” I force myself to breeze past the conversation, knowing that I cannot dwell on the past again. After a year or two of trying to figure out where everything went wrong, I have long since realized that there is nothing else to decode. I preferred to think of Paige as a painful memory that I’ve locked far, far away - it was just easier that way. “Who wants to watch a show?”

“You good, Maya?” Brooke asks, a small smile on her face. I know she feels guilty for bringing it up in the first place. But really, I have no reason to be mad: I was the one who ended things, and years ago at that. Being hung up over Paige Bueckers was ridiculous at this point.

“Yeah.” I answer, my voice more sharp than I intended. Fuck. Shaking my head as if to shake off any sort of doubts in their mind, I smile as I stand and walk towards the kitchen. “Believe me when I say I do not care what that girl does. She can do what she wants, and so can I. And what I want right now is to drink some prosecco and watch the Bachelorette.”

The sight of me pulling out the bottle of wine seems to strip Brooke of her doubts, because she agrees with a “Hell yeah, lets do it.”

Thankfully, once the TV is on we all settle into a groove of gossiping about strangers on our TV, not the very real people in our lives. Brooke in particular is enthralled, even though I had to beg her for weeks last summer to give the show a try. Even Adria chimes in as the two contestants cry over these men with a yell of “stand the fuck up!” I am quickly reminded in this moment that these two girls are, in fact, related. At one point in the night, Adria whips out her phone and snaps a photo of Brooke and I, grinning under a pile of throw blankets with our wine glasses in hand, an act I fail to question. After all, she had been checking her phone sporadically throughout the night.

Soon enough, we catch up on the past two episodes, our heads buzzing with the wine we consumed and our eyes struggling to stay awake as we say our goodbyes for the night. Adria pulls me into a hug, my head surrounded by the scent of her vanilla perfume as she whispers, “I’m so sorry about saying that stuff about Paige. You should know you… you absolutely did not deserve that shit, whatever she did. For the record, I think you’re awesome and that its completely her loss.”

I smile, happy to hear her words even if this is just a wine happy trail of thought. “It’s okay, Adria, I promise. It was so good to finally meet you.”

Brooke walks her out, and I can barely make it through brushing my teeth and washing my face before collapsing on my bed. The mattress is not the best quality and Amazon still says my mattress topper won’t be here for a few days, but I drift off easily, my thoughts filled with nothing except gratitude for my first night in Storrs and eager for my new start.

It’s safe to say this feeling does not extend in the morning, when I am awoken by the sun blazing through my window. My mouth is dry as I reach for my phone, eager to check the time and groaning when I see it is only 7AM. My groan is not audible for long, though, as I am quickly silenced by my most recent notification. One that has been awaiting me since 12:37AM.

Paige (DO NOT CALL): You go to UConn now???

August 26, 2023

“Go, go, go… Let’s fucking go Dorka!” I yell, watching as my old teammate scored in a game against the Liberty. It’s the Saturday night before the start of classes, and while the streets of Storrs are filled with people on their first night out of the semester, my teammates and I have all been moved into our current apartments for a little over two months. When your summer breaks are filled with workouts on campus mixed with brief vacations or visits home, that first night out doesn’t exactly carry the same novelty.

Which is why some of us were sat in Nika and Azzi’s living room, game on the TV as the two hosts prepare whatever alcoholic beverage they are subjecting us to from the kitchen separated by a counter. Three of our freshmen sit in the room with us: Ashlynn is on the floor, Ice is right above her on the couch with Aaliyah and Aubrey, and KK is next to me, typing hurriedly on her phone. Being one of the oldest players this year, I feel it’s especially important for me to get to know them - not just how they play, but who they actually are off the court.

“If UConn gets me playing like that,” Ice gestures to the TV, “I’ll know I made the right decision.”

“No turning back now.” Aubrey clapped her on the back, an over exaggerated grin on her face, which Ice responded to by shoving her off playfully. Ashlynn giggles, but doesn’t respond beyond that. It’s not abnormal for her to be quiet - what is abnormal is how silent KK is, her phone apparently more interesting than any of us. Aubrey seems to notice too, because she calls over to her.

“Hey KK, what did you think of that play?” No response. The typically extroverted girl has her chin in her hand, still staring at the screen in her other hand. Ice grabs the nearest pillow to her and throws it at the girl, prompting a jolt and a startled “What?” from KK and a “Ay, cut it out!” from Nika across the counter as she stirs a pitcher of God knows what.

“Bruh, KK, you’re not even watching,” I roll my eyes.

“Probably busy texting her girl,” Aaliyah mutters, although clearly she wasn’t trying that hard to be quiet. Hold up … her girl? Now the entire room quickly turns away from the game and to the freshman, who sits up from her slouched position with a death glare.

“I told you that in private.”

“Yo what? KK, you’ve been on campus for, like, five seconds,” Nika pops in the room.

“Clearly that’s all she needs,” Ice shrugs, earning her the same pillow thrown right back at her.

“Y’all suck,” KK slumps back into the couch, crossing her arms with a slight pout. I feel bad, wondering if we’ve been too hard on the teasing.

“Ok c’mon, we’ll stop. Let’s see her.” I gesture her to bring her phone closer to me, an act that she ignores for now.

“She’s not even my girl,” she mumbles.

“Do you want her to be?” Nika asks, eyebrows raised as she steps closer. All of us watch as KK bites her bottom lip, looking down at her sneakers. Hold on… she’s blushing. I may have only known the girl for two months, but i’ve never seen her do that before.

“Holy shit,” Nika exclaims. “KK’s a lover girl.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of, just surprising is all,” Aaliyah clarifies, “not many freshmen are too into settling down.”

I notice Aaliyah, Nika, and Aubrey turn to face me, their stares deadpan. “What are you lookin’ at me for?” I exclaim, pointing at my chest. The heat rising to my face reveals that it’s no secret, even to me.

“What do you think?” Azzi calls from the next room. I sigh.

It’s no secret among the team (or anyone, really) that I had a pretty… entertaining first two years at UConn. Once COVID restrictions began lifting and the team was able to see other people outside of other players, some of the older players made it their mission to show the younger ones what they had been missing, one of those things being who they were missing. Honestly, it’s what I thought I needed at the time: being trapped in my dorm the majority of the time I wasn’t in practice gave me a lot of time to think, and with thinking came regret. More than once I jolted up in my bed in the middle of the night, dreams of dark hair, tanned skin, and that laugh replaying in my mind. It was torture.

Being in a different girl’s bed every weekend silenced it, just momentarily. Some people viewed me as a player who got off on getting any girl she wanted. The guilt of it finally caught up to me at the beginning of my sophomore year, when I thought about all of the girls I hurt, the ones who thought I wanted more than just one or two nights. It just reinforced my worst fear about myself: I was a womanizer who was incapable of caring about anything aside from basketball.

“Aight aight,” I surrender, shifting my attention back to KK. “We not talking about me right now. Let’s see her.”

KK unlocked her phone, typing a username into the search bar before handing the phone off to me. Nika and Ice were quickly at my side, craning their necks to see a peek. The girl (Adria Taylor, I discover from her bio) is tall, with deep skin and long braids going down her back.

“She’s so pretty!” Nika gushes, and I would have to agree.

Ice, unable to resist the pink circle surrounding Adria’s profile photo, taps on the waiting story before KK can protest. The phone illuminates with a photo of two girls smiling on a couch, captioned “first night back” with a heart and a couple of mentions, presumably her friends handles. I don’t even need to take a look at what is written, however, because my eyes seem to have zeroed in on the girl further from the camera, and my mouth seems to go dry. It can’t be, but it is.

Because the girl in the photo is Maya.

“Holy fuck.”

I don’t even realize I’ve said it until the three girls turn to look at me, confusion laced in their faces. “What?” Nika asks, concern evident. My heart is racing at a million miles an hour and my hands suddenly feel impossibly sweaty, but I refuse to reveal myself to them.

I fake a cough, covering it with one hand while the other goes to scratch the back of my neck. “Uh, nothing. Thought I saw something but um,” Suddenly the sight of my lap clad in Nike tech sweats is the most interesting sight in the world. “She’s cute, KK.”

Almost like some sort of angel sent to save me, Azzi appears with a tray full of drinks that are a bright pink color and look entirely too sweet. “Drink it slowly guys, I’m not really sure I measured correctly.” She looks embarrassed at the admission, passing them around the room. Upon my first sip, I wince. Yep, definitely not too sweet. Will I still drink it? Yes. It would be a shame to let a perfectly good drink go to waste, and I now have something to run from tonight.

We continue watching the game, or at least I am. During commercials I spark conversations with anyone who will listen, including asking Ashlynn about some country concert she went to with her parents over the summer. I don’t even really listen to country, but it was nice to see the typically shy girl light up over something. Plus, it gave me an excuse not to think too hard.

Truthfully by the end of the night I was fucking hammered, not bothering to keep track of how many shots I chased down after whatever concoction Nika and Azzi made. Everyone in the room knew it too, to the point where Nika took it upon herself to walk me back to my apartment once the game ended, even though I only lived one floor down and KK and Aubrey were both still at her apartment.

After I promised her I would chug some water before bed and take the pain reliever she laid out for me in the morning, she agreed to leave and let me go rest. I collapsed in my bed, which suddenly felt like the most comfortable place I had ever been. My brain, on the other hand, was providing anything but comfort running at around 100 miles an hour. Unable to resist, I look up Adria’s profile on my account, clicking the story. Sober me probably would have thought about how it would look if I showed up in her profile views, but drunk me clearly didn’t care enough.

Sure enough, she’s sat there with a glass of wine in her hands. My heart jumps as I realize that she’s still just as beautiful as she was when I first met her, just more grown up this time. Her face is all defined cheekbones, glistening eyes, and a smile - God, that smile, that never failed to brighten my day if it was directed at me. It’s been a while since I’ve glanced at her profile - though we still follow each other, she barely ever posts and I don’t remember the last time she’s interacted with anything I’ve posted. Viewing her profile is reserved for nights where I’m filled with just enough delusion to convince myself it’s a good idea. Nope, never is.

The girl next to her (Brooke, I assume from the tag) is leaning into her slightly in a way that makes my stomach flip. She’s not entirely unfamiliar to me - I’ve definitely seen her in a photo dump by Maya last summer. A part of me wonders if that’s the next girl that gets to treat her the way I should have. What if she came to UConn for her, I think. Nope. Can’t do that. Maya hasn’t been mine, not for a while.

The urge to reach out has died down through the years, going from entirely unbearable at times to more of a constant dull itch that I feel as though I can’t ever scratch. Her texting me after my ACL tear last summer provided temporary relief. I mean, it had to say something that she cared enough to show that she cared. A person that hates me wouldn’t do that.

But then, she never responded to my reply. A person that hates me would do that.

So yeah, there is nothing I want more in this world than to text Maya one last time, just to tell her I’m sorry. That I still think about the way I treated her, and how I’ve been too afraid to be with another girl since I’m worried I’ll do the same thing. That I know I don’t deserve her, not even platonically, but feelings aside I miss being around her. I wish we could be friends again, or acquaintances who occasionally text each other on birthdays and holidays, or something. At the very least, I want her to know I’m sorry.

But beyond everything, I want her to be happy. And if me not talking to her makes her happy, as stated the last time I saw her physically where she stated she “just needed time”, I was willing to suffer through that.

Somehow knowing she could be anywhere right now, even just a short walk away, made the suffering unbearable right now, in a way that I hadn’t felt since freshman year.

Blame it on the alcohol, or the picture, or whatever you like. Doesn’t change the fact that I opened my contacts in search for one particular one. Doesn’t change the five word text I sent that took an embarrassingly long time to think of. And it doesn’t change how my fingers pressed send before any other doubts could enter my brain. Putting my phone on do not disturb, I plug it in and turn off my lights, deciding that chugging water can wait until tomorrow. For now, I need to sleep off everything I’ve seen tonight and the memory of what I just did.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers angst #paige bueckers fluff

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 year ago

Text

The Other Half Part Twenty Three

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Notes: This is a long one y'all. There's more angst, BUT there's a fluffy ending, so. Ya just gotta trust me.

Length: 6K

Warnings: Angst that ends in fluff, so you're gonna suffer, but you're gonna be happy about it; canon-typical violence; a D-level DC villain that's usually more of a Superman baddie, but he's fought Batman once or twice, so.

Summary: When Michelle had announced that she would be moving to Keystone City, you’d burst into tears. Your other friends had passed it off as you being overcome by the news of your oldest and dearest friend moving, but Michelle knew you, and she knew better. It hadn’t taken her long to drag the truth out of you.

“I never liked him.”

Michelle’s flat insistence makes you splutter a laugh through your tears. You sniffle, raising both hands and scrubbing at your eyes, knowing that you're almost certainly ruining your makeup. You’ve tried to put on a brave face, but Michelle has known since you arrived that something was off. She’s banished everyone else from the kitchen, giving the two of you a quiet space to talk. The odd swell of laughter and conversation reaches you every few moments, reminding you that you’re having an incredibly sensitive conversation just a few feet away from people that would probably sell it to the Gotham Gazette for one corn chip.

“Yes, you did,” You argue, raising your hand and scrubbing a tear away.

“...I mean, a little.” Michelle rips a piece of paper towel off of the roll, passing it over. “Did he tell you why?”

You dab at your eyes, trying to piece a reasonable explanation together—one that wouldn’t shock Michelle and expose Bruce’s secret.

You had waited up for Bruce all night, but he’d never come back. At least, he hadn’t come back to you. You’d realized when you’d gone down for breakfast that Bruce had returned, but slept elsewhere—down in the bat cave, maybe, or in an entirely separate wing of the house? But there he was at the table, genially listening to your father discuss whether or not the Metropolis Metros had any chance of making the playoffs that year. You had gotten yourself some coffee and sat at the opposite end of the table, unable to catch Bruce’s eye. He was avoiding it; he was avoiding you. He’d kept that up as you’d seen your parents to the car, as you’d hugged your mother and dodged her attempts to discuss what had been said last night. You saw the firm handshake that Bruce had shared with your father, the strained smile that he’d managed as your father had insisted that he hoped that there weren't any hard feelings.

The two of you had stood side by side as the car pulled out of the driveway, hands to yourselves, eyes set on the fading red tail lights until they were out of sight.

“Can we talk about it?” You finally hedged.

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about.”

You turned to watch him stride away, stunned. It took you a moment to follow, taking the stairs two at a time to catch up.

“I think there’s a hell of a lot to talk about!”

“I don’t agree.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because they’re right.”

“Excuse me?”

“They’re right!” Bruce barked, whirling around to face you. You froze in place, eyes widening as his yell echoed in the foyer. “I can’t keep you safe.”

“You have kept me safe—You do keep me safe, Bruce!”

“If I could, you never would’ve gotten kidnapped in the first place!”

“I got out of there because of you—”

“You got in there because of me!”

“There are people in this world that are just plain greedy, Bruce. There’s nothing that you can do about that, it is not your fault.”

“It’s my fault that you of all people were taken, and as long as you and I are together, you will continue to be a target.”

“I don’t care!”

“I do!”

“Oh, so you get to go out every night and put people away and get the shit kicked out of you even though you know I hate it and that’s fine, right? Bruce Wayne can make his own damn decisions and put himself in as much danger as he wants, but I get into one little situation and that’s it? You’re decided? I don’t get a say in this?”

“You get a say. You have had a say, but I am through knowing that I’m endangering your life.”

“Well let’s think this through, then. Who else are you putting in harm’s way? Lucius, for one—”

“That’s enough—”

“You’re endangering Alfred. Are you telling him that you’re through putting him in danger?”

“Do not bring Alfred into this.”

“It’s a bullshit argument, Bruce.”

“I’m done talking about this,” He warned coldly, turning away from you. You didn’t let him get far, keeping a pace or two behind him as he strode toward the study.

“What if I’m not?”

“I don’t give a damn.”

“What do you want, Bruce?”

“I want you to leave!”

He stopped short again, but there was no danger of you slamming into him this time. In fact, you took one step back, then another. You searched Bruce’s face desperately as your entire body felt like it was going to cave in on itself. You shook your head a little, hands flexing at your sides as you forced yourself not to reach out, not to tug him in and hold him close and beg him, plead with him to reconsider.

“You don’t mean that,” You insisted.

“I do.” Bruce’s gaze dropped to your shoes.

“Look at me.”

“I’ll have Alfred pack your things—”

“Look me in the goddamn eye and tell me that.”

“You can stay at the penthouse until Michelle can move you back in.”

“Bruce, don’t do this—”

“You can take as long as you need.”

“You—” You reached up, grasping the lariat necklace and yanking it roughly. You felt the clasp break roughly against your skin, heard diamonds scatter as you tossed it at his feet. “You are a fucking coward.”

You hadn’t let him see you cry, but you were sure he’d heard you. You’d hardly made it into your shared bedroom before you’d knelt down and let out a raw, sharp scream—one so long and so loud that you were hoarse when it finally broke. You had spent the day hiding out in your room, and had only managed to stop crying just long enough to fake a few smiles at Friendsgiving.

When Michelle had announced that she would be moving to Keystone City, you’d burst into tears again. Your other friends had passed it off as you being overcome by the news of your oldest and dearest friend moving, but Michelle knew you, and she knew better. It hadn’t taken her long to drag the truth out of you.

“We just, um…” You sniffle. “We just haven’t been seeing eye to eye on a lot of things lately.”

“Marriage? Kids?”

You shake your head at her plying.

“A lot of things.”

“...Does this have anything to do with the fact that your parents were at Thanksgiving?”

“Let’s just say their visit was less than stellar.”

“Oh, hon, I’m sorry,” Michelle shakes her head, taking your hands in hers. You give them a gentle squeeze in turn, eyes swimming as you look down at them. She’s quiet for a few moments before she plies:

“What are you going to do?”

“...May as well move to Metropolis,” You admit. “Mom and dad are there, you’re leaving, and Bruce…” You clear your throat. “There’s nothing keeping me here.”

“Will they let you transfer at work?”

“Something tells me they’ll have the bright idea first thing Monday morning.”

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“He’s stubborn. Once he gets an idea into his head, he won’t shake it.”

“You can be damn stubborn, too.”

You nod a bit. “I can, but I’m just…” You shake your head as the tears well viciously again. “I’m so damn tired, Mish. I can’t keep fighting for him if he doesn't want me.”

“Honey,” Michelle sighs, crowding close and drawing you into her arms. You curl your hands around her arm, keeping her close as the sobs begin to shake you again.

“How is the weather there?”

“We’re really resorting to speaking about the weather?” You smile. “My my, times are desperate. Did you pull the lilies up yet? Must be getting cold over there.”

“Now who is speaking of the weather?”

You chuckle at Alfred’s reminder, shaking your head. The two of you go quiet on your sides of the phone. You focus your gaze on your mom’s macrame plant hanger, shifting from foot to foot. You know how Alfred is (“Just fine, as always, dear.”), but you don’t dare ask how Bruce is.

“Have you settled in?” Alfred presses before you can bring anything else up.

“Um…” Your brow furrows. “The office is nice—bigger desks.”

“And the apartment? The car?”

“I’m with my parents. I don’t have a car.”

Alfred is quiet for a few moments before he offers: “Master Wayne—”

“I know what he did,” You cut in quickly. You'd gotten the email from the newly Wayne-owned apartment building, as well as the message to pick your new car up from the dealership when you'd arrived in Metropolis. “I don’t want anything from him.”

Alfred sighs softly on the other end, and it makes your gut twist. You lean back against the kitchen counter, looking down at the floor.

“...How is he?” You finally mumble.

“He misses you.”

“Funny way of showing it.”

“Buying you an apartment and a car?”

“I don’t care about things, he knows that. If he cared, he would pick up the—...Damn phone,” You trail off in a mumble as you hear yourself growing more and more frustrated. You tried calling him three times before you left Gotham, but you hadn't gotten a single response. You haven't bothered to try since.

“Anyway,” You clear your throat, “You never answered me about the lilies.”

“I have a few weeds to pull up before I cover the beds.”

“You should do that soon. It’s only going to get colder. Are the lights up in the city yet?”

“They are.”

“Must be nice. I love Gotham at Christmas.”

“How is Metropolis?”

“It’s nice! It’s nice. It’s fine. Pretty. Good lights. Not as good as Gotham’s, but good.”

“Are the accommodations at your parents comfortable, at least?”

Comfortable. That isn't the word you’d use. These days, you’re sleeping on a lumpy pullout couch in a cramped living room, living out of a duffel bag. They’re meant to be spending their days comfortably, not with their heartbroken daughter sleeping in the living room and trying to put the pieces of her life together. You’re grateful to them for opening their home, and you feel so ungrateful for feeling crowded, but a week ago, this was not the life that you pictured—

You raise your hand to pinch the bridge of your nose to stem a wave of tears.

“Mhm!” You nod, though Alfred can’t see you, hoping that the affirmative movement will bolster the firmness of your tone. “S’nice, it’s cozy.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

“Yeah! Yeah, thank you.” You clear your throat. “I should get going for work soon, I’ve got a meeting to prep for.”

“Of course. I'll send the remainder of your things tomorrow."

“Sounds great. I’ll call you soon.”

“It will be lovely to hear from you then.”

“It’s lovely to hear from you now.” You smile bitterly. “Bye, Alfred.”

“Goodbye.”

You lower the phone and hang up, raising your hand to swipe at the few tears that have managed to slip. Work, you have got to get to work. Your parents' place is a quick bus and train ride to and from the office, but you’ve been getting in early to get up to speed—and with the hopes of avoiding the paparazzi.

There aren’t nearly as many as there were when you were in Gotham, but so far, you’ve had a handful lingering around the front door when you leave. They always throw out questions—Why’d you leave Gotham? Did you and Wayne break up? Did he cheat on you? Why aren’t you living in the apartment with your name on it? Are you ever going back to Gotham?

You hadn’t bothered to answer a single question, just kept your head down and strode toward the train station. They had the decency not to follow you on, or back to the apartment. When you arrive this morning, there isn’t anyone with a camera outside the building. You give the receptionist a friendly smile before you head to the elevator, pressing the up button with a knuckle to keep from dropping your phone or spilling your coffee.

The office is quiet when you step inside. You can see a couple of other people there, but they don’t acknowledge you as you settle in. You open your laptop, humming to yourself as the laptop begins to boot up. You heard a few carolers performing Silver Bells on your way to the office, and it is stuck in your head now. You rest your chin on your hand, trying to picture what the grounds’ gardens must look like all covered over. You can picture Alfred crouching down, covering the raised beds with chicken wire, with Bruce pulling it taut from the other end—

You shift in your seat, trying to push the thought of Bruce away.

He’d be bundled up, too, maybe using the spare pair of gloves that you bought for Alfred—

Ugh, stop it! Stop, just banish him from your mind. That’s probably impossible, sure, but you can pretend, right? You click on the internet app, and freeze when you see the loaded article on the homepage: Bruce helping a model out of a car. You recognize her. You're sure that you’ve seen her at a couple of Liz’s parties. You can’t quite remember her name, though…Your eyes stray to the description before you force them away again, pulling up your email and biting the inside of your cheek to keep from letting tears fall. It feels like all you can do these days is cry, no matter what you do. You know that getting over Bruce is going to be slow-going.

Your hand strays to your neck, where the lariat necklace used to sit…No. Nope, letting it go. Taking out your headphones, putting on your favorite angsty playlist and letting it go.

“How was your day, honey?”

You poke through your container of leftovers as you lean against the kitchen counter. You give your mom’s question a placid smile, and don’t bother to say a word. You know that an admonishment isn’t far behind.

“Oh, don’t stand and eat,” She tuts just a moment later when she spots you.

“I’m fine standing, mom. I've been sitting all day.”

“Your day, honey.”

“It was okay. We got the invite for the Christmas party, it’s next week.”

“Everyone was nice?”

“It’s an office job, not my first day of kindergarten.”

“Well,” She sniffs, “Forgive me for asking a question.”

You roll your eyes.

“Everyone's pretty nice, yeah, but...I don't know. We reviewed this application for a toy maker who wanted to set up a workshop for the holidays, but the board wound up turning it down. I thought it seemed like a good cause,”

“Oh really, that’s nice.”

Nice. She isn’t listening—but you push on anyway:

“It’s a bummer, you know, this Schott Jr. guy’s application was kinda…Sad. It was a little childish, though. I think the writing on the grant really messed up his chances.”

“You can tell me about it later, hon. I have my quilting group tonight.”

God, your mother has more of a life than you do these days. “Well, have fun. Where’s dad?”

“Late shift.”

“Out on Neville Island? Jeez, how late are they gonna keep him?”

“Your father is a big boy.”

“I know, just…”

Your mom casts you an almost pitying look. “This isn’t Gotham, sweetie. He’ll be fine.”

You nod a little, peering down into your remaining leftovers.

“Have fun at quilt club,” You add as your mom heads for the door.

“Sure! We’ll keep it down when we come in!”

“Yeah, I know you all get really wild while quilting.”

“Oh, and honey?”

“Mm?”

“Try not to spend the night sulking. Maybe…I don’t know, go to a bar, pick someone up—”

You choke roughly as you accidentally inhale the bite of food. You regain your breath, throat throbbing as you gasp, “Mom!”

“The only way to get over someone is to get under someone! Okay, I’m going, I’m going,” She insists, holding her hands up in mock-surrender as she edges for the door, taking up her quilting tote bag. You scoff, turning and practically flinging the remainder of the leftovers into the trash as you hear her footsteps retreat down the hall.

“Only way to get over someone is to get under someone,” You mumble, “Fucking…Unreal.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, glancing toward the trash can. Maybe you shouldn’t have thrown out those leftovers. You’re still hungry. Maybe you ought to get yourself out of the apartment, grab some food. Or...You reach into your pocket, drawing out your phone. You don’t call Alfred again—instead, you dial Michelle’s number and walk over to the couch, plopping onto it. You wince a little, glancing down at the cushions. You really should be more gentle with it, you are sleeping on it all the time.

You set the sound to speaker as you wait. It rings…And rings…And—

“You better not be calling to tell me that you’re back with that jerk.”

You can’t help but smile at Michelle’s candor.

“I haven’t even heard from…Him.”

“That jerk. Call him a jerk.”

“Mish, please.”

“Well, he is. But I guess I’ve said it enough for both of us.”

“How’s Keystone City?”

“Honey, I have never seen so much corn in all my damn life.”

“Is it doing the men out there any good?”

“It would have to be super corn if it did.”

“How’s the apartment?”

“Oh my god, it's fucking huge. Half the price we were paying in Gotham for double the size. You should move down here. With our joint funds, we’d be able to build our own mansion.”

“Mm, I don’t think I could move down just yet. I’ve only been at the Foundation for three months, and just moved to this location a week ago. If I up and left now, I’d lose my job in minutes.”

“We could find you one down here.”

“Is it very busy down there?”

“No. But maybe you could do with slowing down a bit.”

“Maybe. Hey, have you gotten your tree yet?”

“Have you?”

“The couch folds out right where it would go. Mom’s thinking of getting a small one that she can put on the kitchen counter.”

“She wouldn’t.”

“...I think it’s guilt,” You admit. “She’s why I’m here, anyway.”

“Ugh, you’ve hit the point of blaming your mother. Finally—took you long enough.”

“Well,” You grumble, “She wasn’t thinking, but her not thinking kinda got me on her couch. You know what she told me before going quilting?”

“What?”

“That I should go pick up a stranger.”

“What?” Michelle screeches, and you wince, turning your head away from the phone. “Oh, my god! Are you mortified? I would die, oh my god!”

You giggle, a lightness taking over you for the first time in several days.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, the sexual tension between me and the electrical sockets are slowly creeping up. I’ve gotta find my own place.”

“If you need a reference—”

“I’ll call you—”

“I will lie through my teeth.”

“You’re a dear.”

“...Have you spoken to him?”

No. “No.”

“Have you blocked him?”

No. “Yes.”

“Do you miss him?”

Terribly. “Maybe.”

“...Okay, here me out—”

“Oh, no, Mish—”

“I’m just saying, maybe your mom is on to something. Not like that, but—have you taken a moment for yourself since you got to Metropolis?”

You think for a few moments, shifting back on the couch.

“...No, I’m just working,” You admit softly. “I feel like if I let myself do anything but work, I’ll just…I’ll fall apart.” Your words quiver as you say it.

“I’m not saying don’t think about it,” She reassures. “I mean…It was almost a year with him, you know? Just…Don’t let that be the only thing that you think about.”

You sink back into your seat, lips pursing as your eyes begin to wet.

“I don’t,” You protest weakly. Michelle sighs on the other end, and you know that you haven’t fooled her for a moment. You shake your head, resolved to push the conversation in another direction:

“Are you going to paint any rooms in your apartment?”

“...I got a few paint samples.” You can hear how reluctant Michelle is to move on, but feel a swell of gratefulness when she does. “Mostly blues and greens. I’m thinking of some kind of turquoise for the kitchen.”

“Some kind of turquoise? Isn’t there only one kind of turquoise?”

“You know, I used to think that, but the paint section of the store proved me very, very wrong.”

You tuck yourself in early, knowing that you won’t be asleep by the time your parents get in. Still, you’d rather fake it than have them ask you if you had a nice night in. Worse, your mother could ask if you’d gone out and gotten under someone, as it were. You stare up at the ceiling, trying to focus on taking slow, even breaths.

You can’t help that Bruce creeps up in your mind.

What’s he doing right now? Is he creeping through some alley? Swooping down on a wrongdoer? Conferring with Gordon?

Elspeth Emerson, that’s that model’s name. She’d hardly spoken a word to you the couple of times that you had met her. Come to think of it, you couldn’t remember what her voice sounded like.

Can you even remember what Bruce’s voice sounded like?

“I want you to leave!”

You wince at the thought, and you roll onto your side, as if you can pull away from the memory. Yes, you remember what Bruce’s voice sounds like. How long will it take until you forget? You peer through the curtains, chest muddling with pangs of regret and sadness as your mind begins to race—to wonder if things would be different if you’d just fought a little harder—

But how many times can you give your love to a man that’s trying to push you away? A man who only took a few days to get over you—or at least to go out and make it seem like he’s moving on?

He must have known that you wouldn’t use that apartment, or that car. He must have just wanted to seem like the bigger person, as if he wasn't the one that had sent you packing. You huff softly, raising your hand to swipe your tears away as they begin to leak. It’s no use; a few slip. It’s only a moment before the trickle turns into a stream, dampening the pillow beneath your head.

You fall into a rhythm. It isn’t a rut—it is decidedly not a rut. You manage to get up and out of the apartment before your parents are awake in the morning. The paparazzi stop lingering around the office, because your existence ceases to be news. You stop flinching at the mention of Bruce’s name; you stop hearing his voice as you try to fall asleep. The ache of missing him doesn’t disappear, but it lessens, some. You don’t take your mom’s recommendation of getting over Bruce by getting under someone else. You consider it, sure. You download a couple of dating apps, but you never actually make a profile. There’s just nothing about it that feels right.

You speak with Alfred almost daily—usually on the phone, if not over text. You don’t ask about how Bruce is doing, and he doesn’t tell you.

That doesn’t stop you wondering.

“What the hell is that?”

“Did you see it?”

“It’s so cute!”

“Do you think it’s some kind of office Christmas gift or something? A little teaser before the holiday party later?”

“You hear Wayne’s gonna be in attendance? Someone said they thought the saw him in the elevator. Do you think it’s because of…You know—”

“Who cares—Hey, does that thing move or is it just a decoration?”

Your coworker’s chatter draws your focus, and you turn away from your laptop. You can see people crowding around something by the elevators. You stand, joining them and peering around them to try and get a look at what they’re talking about. You can just catch a glimpse of a brightly colored, 5-foot tall nutcracker. Your brow furrows as you take in the fuzzy beard, the crisp blue paint of the nutcracker’s coat, the bright gold buttons, and the rifle tucked at its side. You nod at the painted script on one of the boots.

“What’s that say?”

“Schott and Son.” One of your coworkers steps forward, stepping around it and eyeing the back. “There’s a button back here!”

Schott and Son. God, why does that sound familiar?

“Press it!” Someone else urges. You hear the gears crank and whir, quickly covered by a music box rendition of the Nutcracker Suite. You smile a little, as the Nutcracker’s arms move as if marching. You all startle, then laugh as it steps forward and does a short bow. It reaches around itself, and your stomach churns as it grasps the butt of its rifle. You take a step back, warning,

“Uh, guys—”

“Lighten up,” Someone scoffs, “It’s just a toy.”

Their insistence is stifled by a gunshot, leaving the tip of the rifle smoking. You hear two panicked huffs before someone screams. You whirl around to see blood pouring from your coworker’s shoulder. Their scream is chased by others as the Nutcracker ventures deeper into the office, firing again. You scramble away as the others do, running for whatever cover you can find. You stumble as someone gives you a shove, practically climbing over you to get out of the way. You crawl along the floor, getting beneath a desk and tugging a chair in. You fold yourself in as tight as you can, clasping your hands together and fighting to keep your breathing and quiet as you peer out, watching people scramble to get out of the way of the Nutcracker.

Fuck, you left your phone on your desk, so you can’t call 911—Surely someone has, right? Someone’s heard the commotion from another floor, or an alarm has gone off, something—

You hear a horrifying thud, chased by a few more gunshots. You wince with the furious bashing sounds, raising your hands to press over your ears. You focus on your own pounding heart, your rapid breathing—

The feeling of the chair shifting beside you makes you scream and open your eyes.

The sight of Bruce crouching beside your desk makes you crumble.

“...It’s nice.”

It’s a feeble attempt at a compliment and a conversation starter. It’s also an insane understatement. It seems that Bruce didn’t only buy you this apartment—he’d had it furnished, and filled the fridge and cabinets with groceries, spices, all of your favorite goodies. You look from the fully stocked bar cart by the kitchen over to the living room, where Bruce is hurriedly closing the curtains over the lowered shades.

Maybe it shouldn’t be such a surprise that the apartment he chose is so big.

Just being the bigger person, You remind yourself, He doesn’t want to be the bad guy.

Bruce finally turns to look at you. You see his lips twitch with something unspoken before he purses them and swallows thickly. He looks so wan—pallid, and tired. He’d looked it when he’d found you beneath that desk, after apparently smashing the shit out of that Nutcracker with a printer. The ride to this apartment (in the car that he had bought for you and had driven to the office) hadn’t made it any better. Neither of you had spoken.

“You never, um…” You clear your throat. “What are you doing in Metropolis?"

“It was requested that I make an appearance at the holiday party.”

Your gaze narrows slightly. You smell bullshit...But you're not really in the mood to litigate it right now.

“Right.”

You turn away, finally, shrugging off your coat and tossing it over the back of a chair as you head for the bar cart.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Wayne. Great, even.” You take up a clean glass, setting it windowsill beside the car before you reach for the bottle of whiskey. “You want some?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“More for me, then.”

“Are you sure you wanna do that right now?”

“I can’t think of a better time.”

You reach for the seal, struggling to twist it off before you fling it away. You grasp the bottle firmly, trying to ignore your shaking hands as you lift it and the glass. You can’t steady them no matter how hard you try, but you pour anyway, some of the liquid sloshing over the sides and onto your fingers—

You go still as Bruce crowds up close to you, grasping your hands and forcing them down. The glass connects with the windowsill with a sharp, shrill sound; you wouldn’t be surprised if it was chipped, if not cracked. You squeeze your eyes closed as you just feel him—the heat and strength of him up against your back; the gentle press of his face against your hair, and the sound of him drawing in a deep breath; the warmth of his hands, steady over yours. Your lower lip begins to wobble as Bruce intertwines your fingers, using his grasp on your hands to curl your arms around yourself.

“Good thing I wasn’t in Gotham,” You quip dryly, forcing your stern tone over the your rapidly fracturing resolve, “Or today could’ve been a real disaster.”

You shake Bruce off, stepping out of his arms and snatching your glass from the sill, striding more deeply into the living room. You hear Bruce sigh behind you before he hedges:

“What do you want me to say?”

“An apology would be nice.”

“You want me to apologize for wanting you safe?”

“Was I safe today?” You snap, whirling to face him again. “Was that—Killer nutcracker something I was safe from? You can’t anticipate every moment of my life, Bruce. No matter where I go, I could be in danger. What, do you want me confined to a room somewhere and permanently out of harm’s way? What if someone breaks into that room?”

You search his face, desperate for some kind of recognition, some kind of understanding. Bruce shakes his head, his gaze dropping shamefully to his shoes. You lower yourself into an armchair, peering down at the amber liquid, watching it shift with your still-shaking hands. You hear Bruce cross the room before his shoes come into view. He grasps the wooden coffee table, tugging it closer and sitting on the edge of it.

“I just don’t…I don’t like the idea that someone could come after you again, with the purpose of getting to me, or getting something from me,” He admits softly. “I can’t be the reason that I lose someone I love. I can’t do that again.”

You lift your head as Bruce’s voice breaks, heart stuttering as you see his eyes well with tears. You set the drink aside, taking his hands in yours.

“I know that it scares you. It scares me, too. But Bruce, you cannot protect me from everything. But you do—” Your voice breaks as your face twists with upset, “You do protect me, from so much. You protected me after the kidnapping, you protected me today. If you hadn’t been there, I don’t know what would’ve happened…’Sides between this and the attempted robbery at the store, I think I’ve proven that I can get into plenty of trouble all by myself.”

Bruce huffs a shaky laugh through his nose as he nods. He raises your joined hands to his lips, pressing kisses to your knuckles.

“I’ve missed you so goddamn much,” He murmurs.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“I want…” He winces at the phrasing, and seems to reconsider. “I mean…Would you consider coming home?”

Home. Your chest aches with it—with the thought of the mansion, and Alfred, and the covered garden beds.

“Bruce…I love you so much. I want us to have a life together, but…” You shake your head, steeling yourself as his face falls, “But I can’t keep having this argument. I can’t be pushed away from you over and over again and keep wanting to come back. This nearly broke me—No, Bruce,” You chase his gaze as he averts his, holding his eye as your tone grows more firm. “I understand that you want me in one piece, I get it. But how the fuck do you think I feel, night after night, knowing that every time you leave may be the last time I see you?...If I come back,” You hedge carefully, “This is…It. If we implode, or you change your mind and throw me out again, we’re through, I mean really through—”

“That will never happen again.”

“But—”

“You have my word.” He says it firmly, holding your eye as you held his. “I…I acted like an asshole. I didn’t want you to leave, but I thought it would be better for you.”

“Nothing about this has been better for me.”

“I know, I see that now. I’m sorry.”

You nod a little, looking down at your hands.

“...You just want me back in Gotham so you can keep a closer eye on me.”

Bruce chuckles softly, raising a hand to cup your cheek.

“I want you back in Gotham because nothing has been right since you left.”

You tip your face into his hand, letting your eyes slide closed and allowing your tears to fall as you accept the gentle touch. Bruce shushes you softly, smoothing your tears away and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Tell you what,” He murmurs. “Why don’t you call your parents, let them know you’re alright and you’re spending the night here before we go back. I’ll figure out getting your things back in a couple of days.”

“They’re not gonna like that…And the Foundation’s going to be pissed.”

“S’okay. I think they’ll understand you transferring back after what happened in the office. They've cancelled the holiday party to secure the building, make sure that thing didn't have any extra surprises hiding anywhere.”

“Speaking of which,” You lean back, scrubbing your eyes. “There’s someone you should look into.”

“What do you mean?”

“The uh…The Nutcracker, it had a name on it—”

“Schott and Son.”

“Right. Winslow Schott Jr. put in an application for funding from the Foundation, but it was denied.”

Bruce’s frown deepens. “When did this happen?”

“Uh—Two weeks ago, maybe? He left a few angry calls and emails, but then he dropped off, so we figured he’d given up.”

“Did he have a company he applied through, or was it just him?”

“Umm…” Your brow furrows as you try to remember. “It was…The Toymaker, or…The Toyman, something like that.”

Bruce hums, nodding. “I’ll have Fox pull the file, see what we can find.”

“Okay.”

You stand and step away, and only make it a couple of steps before you hear Bruce stand. He catches hold of your hand, folding you into his arms. You go willingly, pressing your face into his neck and drawing in a deep breath as you cuddle close.

"Bruce?"

"Mm."

"Why are you really in Metropolis? I know you, you hate these parties."

Bruce's thumb sweeps along your lower back as he peers gently at you.

"I needed to see you," He admits softly. "It was just supposed to be for a minute...But I was headed to your floor, and I heard the shots, and..." His face goes tight, his jaw tensing. "I couldn't stop myself."

"I'm glad you didn't," You give him a small, reassuring smile. "But I'm a little biased." You reach up, gently sweeping your fingers across his stubbled cheek.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” You accuse.

“Told you,” He mumbles, “Nothing’s felt right since I lost you.”

You tip your chin, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Then it looks like you found me just in time."

Next Part

#Bruce Wayne x Reader #Bruce Wayne x You #Bruce Wayne/Reader #Bruce Wayne/You #Bruce Wayne fic #Bruce Wayne imagine #The Other Half

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julesdaydreams · 9 months ago

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@rosekillermicrofic II prompt: May 1 - rose II word count: 951

TW: blood (it's nothing major, just a cut, but it's there)

Barty was standing in front of him with a rose.

Barty, his best friend for over six years, was standing in front of him, Evan, with a fucking rose.

And Evan's mind was spinning.

It wasn't like he hadn't dreamt of a moment like this. When the ball at the end of the year was announced, Evan's mind immediately wandered towards Barty. How it would feel to go there with him. His best friend, but more importantly, with the boy he's been madly in love with for the better part of three years.

Evan imagined himself standing in front of Barty, asking him to the dance, and not as friends - like the other times the two of them had attended gatherings together instead of bringing a date because they just couldn't be arsed to ask someone - but as more.

And now Barty was standing in front of him with that damned rose, thorns still adorning the stem because of course Barty wouldn't bother removing them, would like the fact that if he wasn't careful they'd sting and draw blood.

Was this some crude joke of his friend? Was this like all those other times they've gone together to such things instead of bringing someone else? But no, that wouldn't explain the rose. In all those years there had never been a rose and Evan didn’t know what it meant.

“So?”, came the all too familiar voice and Evan's head snapped up and towards those large eyes that looked like Barty's, but also not because Evan had never seen them like this; wide and expecting, but there was fear behind them, a tension, as if Barty was ready to bolt if Evan said something wrong.

“What?” Was all Evan's very unhelpful brain could come up with.

Barty looked exasperated with him already.

“The ball, Evan. You want to go? With- With me?” Barty's voice was higher than usual, if not by much but Evan could tell. He was also fidgety - which was usually pretty normal for the boy, but not with Evan. Not when they were alone.

Finally focusing on the fact that he should probably say something, Evan stepped into action.

“Oh! Yeah sure, mate. You don't have to ask so formally, we always go together to these things, no?”, he laughed lightly but it all came out wrong. Because for once in his life Evan couldn't suppress the hope that this was something else, that this meant more, whatever that more was.

Barty cursed, rolled his eyes, before looking at Evan with so much intensity, he found himself pinned to the floor, not even blinking.

“Rosie, you know that's not what I meant. That's not what this is. I got you a rose for fucks sake! Isn't that obvious enough?! I don't want to go as mates. Not with you. Not anymore. I just- I really hope I haven't been reading this wrong and I'm making a complete arse of myself right now. But- you want this too, right? Want… want us to be more than best friends?”

It all came out in a jumbled mess, just calming down over the last few words and he sounded so unsure. Evan has never seen him like that he wanted to make it go away, now.

So, when his brain finally caught up with him, when his thoughts where finally aligned, focused on the boy in front of him, the boy he loved, he just acted.

He took the rose from Barty's hands, feeling the way the thorns dug into his palm, cutting skin, because he couldn't waste a moment being careful about such a thing when all he wanted was Barty.

His arms wrapped around Barty's neck, pulling him down the few inches he had on Evan, and crashed their mouths together.

It wasn't gentle. Maybe it could've been. If Evan wanted it to. He could've taken Barty's rose gently, instead of crushing the stem in his palm. Could've taken Barty's cheeks in both his hands, cradling them, before planting a sweet kiss to the other boys lips.

But Evan had waited three years for this moment. Had been gentle with his own heart this whole time, trying to protect it, to shield it from every hook-up of Barty's, from every hickey that the other had, that weren't from Evan.

For once he wanted to be reckless and now, here, with Barty he finally could.

Soon it was tongues and teeth clashing together and Evan biting Barty's tongue, drawing blood from the other and loving the taste, loving the whimper it elicited from the taller boy.

Evan would've spent the rest of his life standing there and snogging Barty, but the taller boy took a step back all too soon, looking at Evan with such adoration it made him melt on the insides.

“Is that a yes?”, Barty asked and it wasn't nervous anymore, but cocky. That familiar smirk on his face finally back where it's supposed to be and Evan was so happy with it all.

“That's a fucking yes. I'll go to that stupid dance with you, Barty.”

They kissed again, something long and slightly less brutal, if just as intense.

And if Evan forgot about the rose in his bloody hand and brought it to the side, cradling Barty's neck and jaw; if the thorns stung the other boy's creamy skin, painting it a crimson red… Well. None of them seemed to mind.

#rosekiller #evan x barty #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #hp marauders #marauders #marauders fandom #short story #writing prompt #rosekiller microfic #rosekiller fanfiction

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shyamanuensis · 2 months ago

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The Hit List - HL Smut.

Yep - we're going there. MC (Katie Greene) needs to let laid to get off some stress and steam and there's an unhealthy amount of young horny wizards around the castle a little too eager to help her out. Unhinged and unplanned. Enjoy xo

Girls in the courtyard – Katie’s POV

“You need to get fucking laid.”

The corner of the Transfiguration courtyard we’re huddled in goes silent. Not like when you’ve made a bad joke silent – no this is the kind of silence where everyone falls into agreeance with what’s just been said, and you’ve got no smartass response ready in your arsenal to try and save yourself. There’s a knowing glance exchanged amongst the girls huddled around me and by the smirk I notice on Imelda’s face, it’s clear that she meant what she said ‘literally’.

“I don’t. I’m just stressed with exams – that’s all.”

I feel the burn pierce through me brought on by Poppy and Natty rolling their eyes. My skin is hot – like a fever I just can’t sweat out. The smirks on their faces grow to mimic the expression Imelda’s still sporting and the only option my body has to retaliate is to sigh. As I’m chewing the inside of my cheek to buy my brain a half minute to fully take in what the rest of them are all thinking, Samantha pipes up with a question.

“When was the last time you got laid?”

“Probably never. There are first years I know who get more action than Katie does.” Imelda’s words aren’t far from the truth, but I’ll be damned it I let her be right about this too. How did we even get to having this conversation you might ask? Typical school yard girl gossip. I literally just brought up the fact that I was stressed having learnt my grades had slipped in divination and the girls – as always, have to turn everything into something sexual. It seems impossible to go a day without an innuendo now that we’re in seventh-year. Looking back – the first-year versions of ourselves were abhorrently innocent and uncorrupted.

“I could get laid if I wanted to.” “Then do it.”

My retort is met with a challenge what Imelda just won’t let up on.

“But..” “But you don’t know where to start.”

I want to slap the smirk straight off her face but she’s quick, and again – has a point.

“So start small..”, Natty shrugs. For the most modest dressed girl in school her colourful sex life is a real juxtaposition of what I’m used to. “Yeah – start small”, Poppy agrees, “Just find someone to kiss - a little heavy petting. Then give a hand job to. Then blow. Then you know… make a hit list.”

A hit list? God no.

“Yeah – a hit list. Fuck Poppy, so smart girl - I could kiss you.” Imelda wraps her arms around the shorter Hufflepuff and teasingly pretends to move in for a snog. “Pick 5 guys and work your way up from kissing to fucking.”

The idea is absolutely insane.

“And where am I going to find 5 guys to agree to this?” “Um hello… the castles a walking cesspool pack of needy horny wizards who would do just about anything to get with a virgin..”

Kicking my shoes at the ground, wanting to dig a hole big enough to swallow me; I reluctantly agree. Having sex before graduation wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. I look around at Imelda, Natty, Poppy and Samantha who are eagerly awaiting an answer from me.

“…fine. If it helps with reducing stress, I’ll make a hit list.” “That’s a girl”, Samantha growls with a wink before spanking me. “…babies first hit list.”

“So… kiss, heavy petting, hand job, blow job, full deal…”, Poppy lists, “Who’s first on your list?”

“Um…”, I murmur to myself and bite my lip. “I’m thinking…”

Boys by the quidditch pitch – Garreth’s POV

“KATIE GREENE’S GETTING FUCKING LAAAAIIIIDDD!”

The announcement comes out a little too excited but I can tell by the looks on everyone’s face it was the last thing they expected to hear from me.

“What? By who?”

I scoff and shove Leander out of the way so that I can join the circle the boys have made and run my hand through my hair while wearing shit eating grin; self-righteous on the news I’ve just managed to overhear.

“Fuck off – there’s no way she’s sleeping with you.”

Sebastian’s words are quick to fire out and I place a hand over my heart, dramatically weeping as I drag a fake tear from my eye.

“And you think you’re a better option Sallow.” “Well clearly!”

The clear hype and excitement that’s followed my revelation is instantly wiped out the moment Ominis throws his two cents in.

“First off – she’s a lady. Secondly – how do you even know this?” “She mentioned it in the transfig courtyard...” “You mean you were eavesdropping?” “Look Gaunt - the girls were having pretty open conversation.” “You’re a lascivious fool.”

He has a point. I mean, if it’s got legs and it’s willing….

“Rewind here”, Everett snaps, fingers winding in a circle before he points them to shoot straight at me. “Katie Greene – The Katie Greene… wants to get laid.” “She’s making a hit list.”

The last two words I say are enough start the ruckus back up.

“Fuck me”, Sebastian chokes out, “Never thought I’d live to see the day she willingly became a little minx.” “Wait.. what’s a hit list involve?”

We turn to stare blankly at Leander who’s clearly behind in the conversation.

“Kiss, heavy petting, hand job, blow job, full finale!”

My clarification on the term seems to have turned his brain to mush.

“But this is the best bit”, I add, straightening my posture in front of the lads, “… she doesn’t know that we know. So – we could have a little fun influencing this.”

When the realisation hits the lot of them; there’s a self-ego stroke that grips onto us all just right.

Rosie Greene – just wait and see what we’ve all got install for you.

#hogwarts legacy #smut - just smut #sebastian sallow #garreth weasley #leander prewett #ominis gaunt #everett clopton #not edited - just posted.

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imisscherryboy-blog · 1 year ago

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running back 2 u

enemies to lovers — football player! ajax x sports med! gn reader

part 2 part 3

spotify playlist ★

story: you and ajax have known each other since elementary school. those years haven’t been always the best, as you both parted ways due to your differences in personality. that is, until one hot august night, where the stadium lights illuminate the turf, you find yourself running back to him again.

notes: enemies to lovers, modern au, gender neutral reader, childe is referred to as ajax, last name tartaglia, american football, all characters are 18+ as seniors, highschool setting, use of american education system, reader is in a sports medicine class (if you don’t know what that is it’s basically students that help out at school games, usually water girls/boys/people, assist with injuries) i wrote this with the pov of the reader being a POC but if you’re not just disregard when i say white and stuff lmao + part 1/?, title is an nct reference, debating eventual smut, kaveh and alhaitham are gay

side characters featured: kaveh, alhaitham (alhaitham x kaveh)

warnings: swearing, vivid depiction/description of injury

★ part 1 of an ongoing series ★

you hated ajax and ajax hated you. that much was safe to say. ever since that incident in 9th grade, you never talked to him, let alone acknowledged him. before that, you both had known each other since elementary school. everybody loved ajax, his teachers, his peers, and even you. he just had that personality that made everyone love him; but you knew him underneath that persona. you knew his flaws and he knew yours. he’d tell you things he’d never tell anyone, he trusted you. but, all good things come to an end. in the summer going into your first year at highschool, you found yourself never wanting to speak to him again. he ultimately became the person you two would make fun of together in prior years. a typical, white, football player. but damn was he a good running back. he used to be so charming, but now he was just a playboy that had a new girl in his bed every week. you hated him for it, you hated the person he became, but you mostly hated how he’d plague your mind like a disease.

the day of the game finally came. you and kaveh both wore your school’s varsity jackets and jeans. you guys trudged the god foresaken orange gatorade cooler out to the field for the junior varsity and freshman team. the jv game had just finished, and you began setting up for the varsity game.

“y/n, i can tell you’re scared about ajax.”

“wow kaveh, you’re sooo observant.” you said sarcastically as you both were now in the utility room, filling the water bottles for the players.

“listen, you probably won’t even have to talk to him. as much as he likes to talk behind your back, he’s scared of you. you literally know EVERYTHING about him, you could ruin his reputation in milliseconds.” kaveh had a point. you knew his deepest and darkest secrets, but he unfortunately knew yours as well. you screwed the last lid of the water bottle on tighter than usual as you responded.

“thanks kaveh, but promise me you’ll be the one giving him his water, not me.” kaveh laughed as you said this.

“i’d actually be more than happy too! he’s pretty fine anyways…”

“kaveh— please.” you sighed as kaveh only laughed louder. you walked out to the field, the sky a pretty hue of pink as the jv players left and students filed in the bleachers for the real game. you made your way to the bench, right next to the field and placed the water bottle trays down, as cheering filled the stadium, you both looked behind you.

“ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, our undefeated, five-time league winners, the varsity football team!” the announcer said as the cheers only got louder. the varsity boys ran onto the field, ajax leading the team. you rolled your eyes. you’d admit, he looked good in the navy blue and white jersey, adorning the number 11. ajax was the captain and star of the team, his stats practically outdid any other running back in the county. he ranked first for almost every category, he was a good running back, you’d give him that at least. but at that moment, a feeling came over you. you felt jealous. jealous of the new cheerleader girl he was seeing, jealous of his success, you irrevocably hated him.

“god alhaitham looks good.” kaveh said, very much distracted when they began to sing the national anthem.

“you’re shameless, kaveh.”

“well, the national anthem definitely did not include gay people so…”

the game began, and the annoying and repetitive chants from the cheerleaders almost got stuck in your head. they even had a special one for their glorious star boy tartaglia! you could give zero fucks about him and his stupid chant, but you couldn’t help but notice him staring you down as the rival team took a time out. he gulped his water, sweat dripping from his slicked-back hair, before returning back to the field. as promised, it was kaveh’s job to offer him water, not yours. when one team scored, the other followed suit, the game was neck and neck. watching ajax skillfully receive alhaitham’s (the quarterback) throws and run it was something you could watch all day. but you hated him, so you pretended to look busy every time the home team ran a point. it was halftime now, and you and kaveh hung around the bench. they were up by only two points, it was practically anyone’s game, but that’s what makes the epic highs and lows of highschool football, right?

“swear to god, ajax keeps looking at you.” kaveh whispered to you as you refilled the green water bottles. the boys went into the team room as you and kaveh stayed outside. ajax’s fan girls in the stands had finally calmed down. you just looked at him and looked away as you continued to fill up the water. “like, every time he scores a touch down, he’ll do his stupid little celebration and he’ll glance over here—and then i’d look at you, and of course—‘oh, she’s trying to look distracted and pretend to not care again!’.” kaveh rolled his eyes at you, looking at you for an answer. “you still care about him, don’t you?” this time, you didn’t look at him and just stared at the bottle.

“yeah, like i’d give two shits about the school fuck boy. it’s just, i can’t help but remember how he used to be, that’s all.” it was a blatant lie, and kaveh knew. but he decided to stop pressing where it hurts. and just like that, half time was over and the team looked spent, but they still had 30 minutes to clutch. the cheers started up again. another touchdown, and chants of his name were the only things heard in the stadium. you felt surrounded. you just wanted to go home.

finally, the seventh minute began. the scoreboard emitting a soft glow displayed both home and away teams tied. everyone on the bleachers were all sat for these final minutes. including you. you watched intently with kaveh and your sports med teacher on the bench as they hiked the ball.

“alhaitham, number 9 is going for a throw,” the commentator’s voice reverberated through the field. alhaitham spots ajax, right on the 30 yard line, centered on the field. alhaitham takes a couple steps back and throws, the ball spins with accuracy. the crowd and kaveh all cheer.

“a dot! per usual from quarter back alhaitham, how many yards can their star running back score for the team!” ajax grabbed the ball and went for a right hook, swiftly dodging the defenders. he only got faster and faster as the cheers grew louder. he hooked right, and made his way for that touch down line.

“ajax! ajax! ajax!” the crowd chanted as kaveh and your teacher were now standing. you watched him closely, all of a sudden remembering back to when the two of you competed in your middle school’s flag football tournament. he had signed you up without you knowing, and you both somehow cinched first place.

“oh my god—” kaveh’s gasp snapped you out of your thoughts, as you looked onto the field.

the bleachers were silent now. ajax laid on his side, clutching his knee. the ball was long forgotten now.

“it appears number 11 is down.” the commentator remarked. your heart sank to your ass. you knew that knee injuries could fuck up anyone’s career in seconds. especially a running back’s. before you knew it, you were standing, your teacher yelled something to kaveh as he began running toward him to see what happened, you stood frozen. the cries of his fan girls behind you were the only things you could hear, kaveh was trying to tell you something, but you kept looking at ajax’s writhing body and back to kaveh, and back to ajax, and now at the rival team, and back to kaveh.

“y/n! are you listening? this is serious!” kaveh’s voice was almost a yell.

“i-i’m sorry, what do you need me to do?” you blinked a couple times.

“get the ice pack!” he yelled as kaveh made his way to the scene, the rival team went back to their bench as they were in small groups, most likely talking about what happened. you grabbed the ice pack from the cooler and ran over. his eyes were screwed shut as he cursed loudly, your teacher asking where it hurt.

“ah fuck, my knee! motherfu—” ajax bit back his curses with the back of his hand. your teacher radioed for a golf cart, which made you confused because you’d think someone would be calling 911.

“shouldn’t we be calling an ambulance..?” alhaitham asked, kneeling next to kaveh and ajax’s head. kaveh visibly looked flustered.

“y-yeah. we should! as a matter of fact, why don’t i just call them right—” your teacher cut kaveh off as he interjected.

“it’s a torn acl, if we call an ambulance right now, all they’ll do is give him some ice and painkillers which we very much have. we’re not spending 6k for an ice pack. save that money for the surgery.” your teacher remarked.

“the what..?” ajax looked at him with wide eyes as a campus supervisor came with a golf cart, the crowd was at a stand still.

“kaveh, stay here and take over for me. y/n, come with me.” you knew ajax’s injury was nothing life threatening, but you couldn’t help but worry for his future. you nodded your head as you and your teacher got into the front seat of the golf cart, cursing kaveh in your head, wishing it was him to take your place. ajax’s teammates carefully laid him on the golf cart and he cursed at them to be more careful. you rolled your eyes.

“ajax, we’re gonna need you to talk to us, we can’t have you passing out.” your teacher drove the golf cart to the recovery room, making sure to drive slowly over any bumps.

“you want me to talk? well, a torn acl is gonna ruin my goddamn career—fuck!” the golf cart jerked forward a little, making him curse.

“it’s probably not completely torn, ajax. you’ll recover in no time.” your teacher said.

“you’ll probably be out for the season.” you added, you couldn’t help but add a little salt in the wound.

“you’ll be out for the fucking year if you don’t shut the fuck up.” ajax snapped back at you.

“you need some ice dipshit?” you turned around with the ice pack and tossed it onto his knee, making him yell out in pain.

“what the FUCK is wrong with you—” he yelped in pain again, you just rolled your eyes.

“y/n! cut it out! you too, ajax. we’re here.” the teacher took the key out of the golf cart and looked at you. “i need to call his parents and file a report for the insurance, i’m trusting you to patch any cuts and tape his knee for the time being. keep the ice on it—and please don’t assault him.” your teacher was already on their way as they headed towards the office. you didn’t even get a minute to protest.

“no fucking way they just left me with this loser.” ajax scoffed from the back seat of the golf cart.

“at least my knee still works.” you grabbed the key and unlocked the recovery room, it had a couple of medical beds and cabinets filled with all kinds of medical equipment. you turned the lights on as you heard ajax outside yell.

“now you’re just leaving me? jesus, i couldn’t have asked for someone better to help me.” you ignored him as that was not what you were doing. you went to the smaller room in the back to get a wheelchair to get him onto one of the beds. you walked back outside, ajax’s face turned from one of pain to an angered look the minute you stepped outside. you wheeled the wheel chair to him.

“get on.” you said with little to no remorse.

“yeah let me just fly onto the fucking wheel chair why not. can you help me?” ajax yelled as he tried to sit up straight on the back seat. you scoffed and somehow got him onto the wheel chair. you both were silent, but you knew when ajax went quiet, he was overthinking. you knew he was thinking about what he’d do with his injury. you decided to give him something else to think about.

“it’s not that bad ajax. you survived skateboarding into a brick wall, i’m sure you’ll be fine.” you brought up an old memory the both of you shared.

“everyone saw. even the fucking scouters—i’m done for.” your words seemed to fly past his head. almost like he forgot about you and his’ history. you helped him onto the medical bed and made him sit straight so you could tape his knee. you went into the back room to get more ice. from the main room, you heard him start talking again.

“when i ran into that brick wall, you were the only one there. i didn’t have scouters that could get me d1 scholarships.” he remarked. he did remember at least. you came back with a roll of medical tape and some ice.

“you need to roll you pants up past your knee.” you went for the straight forward route as anything else would’ve gotten too awkward.

“yeah no fucking way that’s happening, cut it off for all i care.” you figured getting the leg of the pants over his injury wouldn’t be the most best of things, so you grabbed a pair of scissors and cut his pants just above his thigh. he hissed in pain even though you didn’t even touch it. he was always this dramatic, you thought to yourself. you unrolled the pieces of tape and got to work. if ajax was good at football, you were the best at sports medicine. you knew how to wrap an ankle like second nature—a big part of the reason why your teacher asked you to assist, not kaveh. he went quiet again, and you’d much rather have him yelling at you than overthinking the situation after all this.

“how’s teucer?” you asked as he hissed whenever you’d place a piece of tape on his knee.

“w-why do you care? can you be any more gentle?” you looked up at him and kept working. you weren’t any gentler, you just worked slower to make it look like you were. he fell for it easily.

“he’s fine. he just graduated elementary—ow, school.” he responded after a minute passed.

“that’s good.” you said in quieter-than-usual tone. you couldn’t deny it was still awkward between you two. you hadn’t had a conversation like this in practically years, and you never thought you would have to. “so what exactly happened out there? you trip or something?” you knew he didn’t trip. you also knew that ajax had a tendency to overestimate himself, overall causing him more harm than good.

“the turf must’ve been off.” he said looking away. ajax was well aware he let himself get cocky. it was the final minutes of the game and he wanted to end it off strong. in doing so, he got himself a torn acl. good going ajax.

“mhm..”

“what? don’t believe me?” before you could answer the question, your teacher walked in. the first thing ajax asked was if they won the game or not. his “half touchdown” didn’t count, leaving them still tied.

“we won. but it was still a close call.”

ajax looked like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. he was already upset with his injury, and a loss especially with their title as undefeated would be 10x worse. you tried to look normal, but in truth, you were a little happy for the team. after all, you had some sense of school pride.

“your mom is outside. i’ve talked to her already and explained the injury in length. please focus on resting, then let’s talk about your next games.” with that, your teacher left you both alone again.

“can you walk?” you asked.

“i’ll try.” he said wincing as he got up. you went to his side and put his arm around you. it was silent. you helped him to the parking lot, occasional swears were heard from him. you said his mom waiting outside of the car.

“oh sweetie!” ajax’s mom held him tightly.

“hi mom, i’m fine.” his words were muffled into her shoulder.

“oh goodness, let’s get you in the car!” she helped him into the passanger seat. they spoke to each other in russian, it sounded like he was getting scolded. it was none of your business anyway. after doing so, she came back out.

“y/n? i remember you!” she said, giving you a hug.

“hi mrs tartaglia.” ajax’s mom had a soft spot for you. she’d always pack you extra food, and would never fail to treat you like one of her own, it made you happy. due to the circumstances, you hadn’t seen her in what felt like years.

“how’ve you been? we’ve missed you!” her hand stayed on your shoulder, her voice was genuine. but who exactly did she mean by “we”?

“i’ve been alright, thanks for asking.”

“ajax still talks about you, you should come over some time! teucer and tonia miss you!”

huh?

did you hear that right?

maybe it she didn’t actually mean it like that, why would ajax still be talking about you?

ajax rolled down the window and stuck his head out.

“mom i’m hurting let’s go.” he half shouted.

“alright, alright. i’ll see you soon hopefully, y/n! thank you for looking after ajax!” she said with a warm smile as she got back in the car before you could say a word. you simply waved and smiled back at her. you glanced over for a second, seeing ajax on his phone. you didn’t understand. did ajax really stil talk about you? you’d have a lot to tell kaveh..

the two of them left the parking lot in their black tahoe suv. you just stood and watched. you cursed to yourself. you couldn’t understand why ajax’s words pulled at your heartstrings a little. you were confused. and things would only get more confusing from there.

-> part 2

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avoxrising · 1 year ago

Text

The Feral One • Ch 15

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

The plot thickens…

Content Warnings - Boggs kills the mood

“Do you really want me to?” he purrs, stepping closer to you. You were sitting on the edge of his bed, looking up at him mischievously.

“Well that depends,” you hum. “Do you love me?”

His lips are on yours before you know it. Despite being in love for years, this was the first time you’d had physical contact of this sort, and damn, you should have done this sooner. Why hadn’t you done this sooner?

He finally pulls away after a few moments, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Always,” he replied.

“Do you love me?” he asks, kissing along your neck.

“Yes idiot!” you exclaim. “Are you that oblivious?”

“You’ve been spending too much time around Johanna,” he laughs, giddy at your confession.

“Shut up,” you state, pulling his lips back onto yours.

His hands roam your waist as yours toy with the buttons on his jumpsuit. The moment heats up and you can tell where this is headed, but his watch buzzes, killing the mood.

“We’ll have to finish this later,” he sighs, checking his watch. “I’m needed in command before dinner and you are needed back in your room.”

“Ugh, fine,” you reply. “But we will be finishing this later.”

And finish it you did, spending the next afternoon making out on Finnick’s bed. He seemed hesitant, however, to take it any further with you.

“Why don’t you want to have sex with me?” you ask him as he pulls away again. He’s a bit shocked by your question.

“I just think it’s not something to rush into,” he explains. “And I didn’t think you wanted to because of what happened before.” You see him wince at the mention of this previous event which only confuses you more.

“What happened before?” you ask, sitting up.

“Your victory tour…” he replies. “The night in the capital.”

“We never had sex in the capital,” you tell him, still confused as to what he’s talking about.

“No we did not,” he confirms. “Do you seriously not remember?”

“I cannot think of anything you could be referring to,” you respond. You had no clue what he was talking about.

“Forget it then,” he says, trying to drop the subject. “I just don’t think we’re at that point yet.”

“Fine,” you pout. “What were you referring to though?”

“It’s nothing,” he says, shaking his head as he avoids eye contact. “It’s probably best not to remind you.”

He was jealous that you could forget the worst night of your life, while he had to constantly relive all of his.

“Finnick and I had the best idea!” you announce as you waltz into command, Finnick following behind you. The two of you had come to a sort of compromise last night that may fix your living situation.

“And what might that be?” Plutarch asks.

“So you won’t let us live together because we aren’t married, right?” you state. Coin mutters a quick “yes” before you continue. “And you guys need more stuff for your propos…”

The two adults just stare at you, unsure of what’s going to be suggested.

“So… we thought of a compromise,” you explain. “We will let you film a fake wedding of us here in 13 if you let us live together. It will not be legally binding but it can appear real enough on camera so people who see it outside of this bunker believe it.”

“What do you think?” Plutarch asks Coin.

“You two still wouldn’t be able to live together as you are not legally married in 13,” she states.

“Oh my god it’s not like we’re going to make any babies!” you exclaim, causing Finnick to cringe. “We literally just want to be roommates, like we have been for nearly 6 years.”

“I like the idea,” Plutarch shrugs, looking over at Coin. “It would definitely be good footage.”

“Fine but I have some caveats to the arrangement,” Coin relents. “Firstly, Miss Y/L/N must still attend regular checkups with our doctors as well as follow an assigned daily schedule like the rest of the district. Mr. Odair must actually follow his schedule and will commence combat training with the other victors.”

“Deal,” you smile.

The district is a buzz with the news of a wedding. You receive congratulations from many people, most of whom you’ve never met, and confused faces from the victors. They knew you two liked each other but what changed?

“You’re engaged?” Johanna asks, nearly choking on her water.

“Fake engaged,” you clarify. “We made a deal with Plutarch that he can film our fake wedding for a propo if Coin lets us be roommates.”

“I see,” Johanna sighs.

“Why don’t you guys just actually get married?” she asks. “It’s gonna happen with you two eventually.”

“Finnick doesn’t want to,” you reply. “He says marriage is something you do because you love someone, not because you want to be roommates.”

“Ugh men,” she groans. “You mean to tell me he doesn’t realize that the two of you are in love?”

“No we’ve established that already,” you explain. “He just doesn’t want to rush into anything.”

“What do you want?” she asks.

“Him,” you respond. “He’s being weird though. The other day I asked him why he didn’t want to do anything past making out with me and he said it’s cause of my victory tour but literally nothing out of the ordinary happened on my victory tour so I’m super confused and he wouldn’t explain it to me and told me to drop the subject.”

Johanna looks at you in shock and you can’t help but get the feeling that everyone knows something you don’t.

“Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?” you ask her.

“Uh if you don’t remember then I don’t think I should remind you,” she responds. Before you can ask her what the hell everyone was hiding from you she suddenly turns serious.

“What did they do to you in the capital?” she asks. “Like what did your treatment include?”

You are a bit taken aback by her change in subject but respond anyways.

“They, um, would take me to a room down the hall and make me sit down in a chair while they gave me some medications,” you respond. “They said they had been recently approved by the capital to treat ptsd and other illnesses I was suffering from. The medicine would make me super sleepy but outside of that I felt fine. I can’t exactly pinpoint when it started working but I know that once it did I felt so much better that I had ever have before.”

“Did they tell you what was in the medicine?” Johanna asks, concerned. “Or what it was called?”

“Nope,” you shrug. “I questioned it at first but after a few dosages I stopped questioning what I was taking because it made me feel better.”

“I think you should tell your doctor about the medicine and treatment,” Johanna tells you. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

Taglist:

@randomgurl2326 @mystargirl-interlude @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @yourdailymemedelivery @americanprometheuss @l3xi3luv @noisyalmonddreamer @nordicvxid @teaganthemorningstar @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @justtrying2getby @heytherellala @notplutos @innercreationflower @nexxus13 @kachelleee @helluvafire @haymitchabernathyslover @memeorydotcom @frostsword @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @giverosespls @honethatty12 @just-levyy @dd122004dd @nekee-lilac02 @impeterporker @nox-the-gay-nerd @redsakura101 @hopefulatrocity @eddiemunson4ever @fangirlvibez @kittimbo @zucchinimalfoy @sleepy-roman @secretsicanthideanymore @writerofadream @vsnrly @mayonesavegana @lilifl0wer @finnickodaddy @abbersreads @fox-bee926 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @isasalom

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#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair smut #the feral one #mockingjay #finnick #finnick smut

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myysaints · 2 years ago

Note

Hello, I saw your requests are open.... if you feel like it and like the idea I'd like to see Japanese kpop idol reader x yuki where reader had been an idol for like 7 years and she's very private like when someone asks about her TMI she's just like i bought this shirt on sale 😐 so when she was asked in an interview if she watches any sports or stuff her members sort of out her for being an f1 fan and then her group gets invited to a race where her and yuki get spotted standing a bit too close (nothing couple worthy but they did look suspicious)... ensure f1 and her fans on twitter being in flames where a lot of her fans are like, lol no I refuse to believe we might lose our queen to a guy that goes vroom vroom but it just gets quite after that so no one thinks about it until a picture of them kissing gets out and people are like I waited three and a half years, Asian man did it in one week only for her company to announce that they had known each other since childhood and they are childhood sweethearts with a 10 year history and like the whole f1 grid being like yuki! You had a girlfriend this entire time

So sorry if this is too specific, if you don't like it you can just skip the request 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

°˖ ⊹ ꒰ YT22 ꒱ REAL OR NO? ─ YUKI TSUNODA

... (PART ONE)

YUKI TSUNODA x f!japanese!kpop idol!reader

⌗︙・ summary — you’ve known yuki tsunoda all your life, but the world doesn’t know that. so when your relationship is accidentally called into the spotlight, fans understandably freak out – after all, who thought that these two worlds would collide?

genre — social media au, fc: sakura from le sserafim

notes — thank you anon for the request!!! it was so cute i spent the whole day absolutely going ham on this fic, which is why it's... so.... so long.... i also changed some details but they're very very minor. hope i did your request justice, and enjoy!

www.youtube.com

[ENG SUB] WHAT SECRET IS LE SSERAFIM’S Y/N HIDING FROM FANS? | KNOWING BROS

yourusername uploaded to their story. 29s

[caption: Thank you alphataurif1 for having me at the Suzuka GP! 파이팅 🤍💙!]

yourusername

Liked by le_sserafim, yukitsunoda0511, alphataurif1, and 3,274,302 others

🏷 alphataurif1

yourusername ただいま (I’m home) ~ 🇯🇵🏎

view all 1,009,284 comments

alphataurif1 かわいい (Cute) 😊

Liked by yukitsunoda0511 yourusername thank you admin!

yukitsunoda0511 幸運をもたらしてくれてありがとう (Thank you for bringing me good luck)！

yourusername どういたしまして (You’re welcome)！おめでとう (Congratulations)！

seulgiphoria SLAY RECOGNISES SLAY

hannitokki begging on my knees for just one chance

landonorris Seeing you in the paddock today made me fearless 😉

yourusername too bad that didn't help you go faster ... dearhyunjin LMFAOOOO SHE HUMBLED HIM REAL QUICK

www.youtube.com/Formula1

PRE-RACE INTERVIEW WITH YUKI TSUNODA | ABU DHABI GRAND PRIX 2023

f1wagupdates

Liked by 932,882 others

f1wagupdates Submitted by anon 🙈 SPOTTED! After the Yuki Tsunoda and an unknown woman (could it be the same girl from Suzuka?) seen entering the driver’s hotel lift together. The pair were clad in matching outfits. According to anon, the woman had a mask over her face and “looked like she didn’t want to be recognised”. 🤔 Who could this mystery woman be?

view all 546,237 comments

miradrivescars THEYRE IN MATCHING OUTFITS 😭😭😭

ynsserafim someone find where y/n is QUICK

isaluvsyn they just finished their world tour right?? i think their last stop was in dubai channieslix that was like 3 weeks ago babe im sure y/n is looooong gone and back in korea by now LOL

bitemelando it’s the same hat as the one in the suzuka picture so it’s probably the same girl

verstrappon yall gotta chill it’s just a regular schmegular black cap damn 🤣

minimumverstappen kpop twt is gonna have a field day with this one lol

...to be continued !

#yuki tsunoda x reader #yuki tsunoda imagine #f1 x reader #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #yuki tsunoda insta au #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 #˖⁺‧₊˚ 📂 ── my writing #꒰ ⁺‧₊˚ [🏁] formula 1 #📬 … you’ve got mail!

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got-ticket-to-ride · 11 months ago

Text

John Lennon talking about "the Beatles break up" in 1970

Breakdown:

Jann asks about the Beatles break up and John says he told Paul he is leaving (like they are the only two people in the band?)

Paul was still making a lot of plans for the band but John was already being stubborn about everything.

Paul probably thought he could/would do damage control while John has not made the announcement yet.

John saying he wasn't angry and then saying "not angry in that way" (what way then, John?) and then slipping to "we" were angry.

Paul calling John on the phone the same day (after crying his heart out for an hour) declaring : he can do the same "John and Yoko" thing

John answering like he was going to be ok with it.

Jann Wenner: You said you quit The Beatles first.

John: Yeah.

Jann Wenner: How?

John:

Well, I said to Paul, I'm leaving.

We're in Apple and I just on the way over to. I knew before I went to Toronto, I told Alan I was leaving. I told Eric Clapton and Klaus that I was leaving and I'd like to probably use them as a group, you know, and it hadn't decided how to do it, to have a permanent new group or or what. And then later on I thought, fuck, I'm not going to get stuck with another set of people in it, whoever they are. So, but I I announced it to myself and to the people around me on the way to Toronto the few days before. And on the plane, Alan came with me. I told Alan, you know, it's over. And then when I got back there was a few meetings and Alan had said, well, cool it cool it because there was a lot to do, you know, business wise it wouldn't have been suitable at the time, you know.

And then we were discussing something in the office with Paul, and Paul said something other, like like to do something or. And I kept saying no, no, no to everything, he said, you see. So it came to a point. I had to say something, of course. And well, what do you mean then? So I said, I mean the group's over, I'm leaving.

And but Alan was there. He'll remember exactly, and she will. This is my how I see it. Alan was saying don't tell.

He didn't want me to tell Paul even you know (pause). And but I couldn't help. So I thought I was out. I couldn't stop.

It came out and Paul and Alan said they were glad that I wasn't going to announce it, that I was going to make an event out of it. Right, but Paul and Alan both. I don't know whether Paul said don't tell anybody, but he was damn pleased that I wasn't, you know, he said, Oh well, that means nothing really happened if you're not going to say anything.

So that's what happened. Well, I mean, like, like anybody when you say divorce, you know, their face goes all sorts of colours. It's like he knew what really that this was the final thing, you know?

And then six months later, he comes out with whatever, you know, I told Ray Connolly. So there's a lot of people knew I'd left, but I was a fool not to do it, you know? Not to do what Paul did, which is use it to sell a record.

Jann Wenner: You were really angry at Paul.

John: No, I wasn't angry. But when he came out with his, I'm leaving. Well, I wasn't angry. I was just shit, you know, I mean, he's a good PR man, Paul. I mean, he's about the best in the world, probably. He really does a job.

I was just. I wasn't angry in that way. I was. We were all hurt that he didn't tell us.

That what he was going to do. But he, I think he claims that he didn't mean that to happen, but that's bullshit. He called me in the afternoon of that day and said I'm doing what you and Yoko were doing last year. And I said good, you know.

Mal Evans during an interview in 1975

MAL (Source): And then… John left. And I remember that well. That was really, truly a heartbreaking experience. We were in Apple, at 3 Savile Row, and John said – “It’s over.” You know? And I drove Paul home. And we got to Paul’s house, and

he spent the next hour in the house crying his eyes out.

And I just wandered around the garden like a lost soul, just crying. It was the end of the world. It was like the end of The Wizard of Oz – when she gets back to the black-and-white reality. All the colour had gone out of life.

#Mclennon Dynamic #John Lennon #Paul Mccartney #Mclennon #1970 #The Beatles #things I read to hurt myself #gttr-beatles

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lees-chaotic-brain · 1 year ago

Note

Hey :) this is the same anon who announced they'd send two requests.

Idea Nr. 2:

Character: Green (Fushiguro Megumi)

Theme: sky (hurt/comfort) idk maybe it's more ocean tho... Not sure.

Prompt: #5 the name of your soulmate appears on your body only after that person falls in love with you. As in: Megumi knows his name is written on reader's body (he's seen it) but he doesn't have reader's name so he thinks either they're not his soulmate or not in love with him and he feels awful, but reader just takes longer to fall in love and in the end reader's name appears on Megumi too? Again: just an idea ;)

hi anon! thanks for sending in this lovely request! your other one will be out soon!

note: in this fic your soulmates name only appears on you after they have said that they are in love with you out loud

Selfish (Megumi x Reader)

Word Count: 1.9K

CW: Insecurity, implied childhood trauma (bullying, abuse, toxic relationships, it's up to the reader), angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, swearing, anxiety

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All your life you had considered yourself unlovable. With the way you were raised, how could you?

No, you believed that you were unlovable, unworthy of good things, and incapable of good.

Because of that, when you started at Jujutsu Tech and met your classmates, you were closed off, opting to sit on the sidelines and be alone. You told yourself that if you joined them, you would ruin their fun. It was impossible for people to enjoy spending time with you. You were annoying, a nuisance, why would they-

“Hey.”

You ignored the voice. They were probably talking to someone else.

“You. Sitting on the bench.”

Startled, you looked up.

You were surprised to see none other than Fushiguro Megumi, one of your peers standing before you.

“Mind if I sit there?”

He nodded his head towards the empty spot next to you on the bench.

“Um, sure.”

“Thanks.”

He sat down, folding an ankle of his knee and propping his chin on his fist.

“Those damn idiots.”

He said, watching Kugisaki and Itadori chase each other around squawking.

“Giving me a headache.”

He turned towards you.

“Say, wanna ditch them and go do something else?”

And so began your friendship with Fushiguro Megumi.

Over time, you began to get closer with Kugisaki and Itadori as well, but Megumi always had a special place in your heart. After all, he was your first friend.

But even as you became more and more comfortable with yourself, a small part of you couldn’t help but to believe that he’s only spent time with you because he pitied you.

So when your soulmates name appeared on your wrist, you couldn’t believe that your fellow first year and friend Megumi had not only fallen for you, but you were his soulmate.

After all, you were unlovable. You were incapable of loving him back the way he deserved.

And he was sweet and kind and caring and awkward and smart and so, so much more.

He deserved so much better than you.

So, logically, the next course of action you took was ignoring him at all costs. You wouldn’t let him be in love with you. If he never saw you, surely he would move on, his name would disappear, and the two of you could go back to being friends.

A small part of you was pained at the idea, but you didn’t dare take a closer look at it. If you did, that meant acknowledging that a small part of you yearned for love and-

No. You mustn’t think about it.

For Megumi’s sake.

Even though it was extremely unlikely that he was your soulmate (you weren't even close to good enough for him) if by a slim chance he was your soulmate, the last thing he needed was your name inked around his wrist, shackling him to you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Megumi had been elated when he noticed his name on your wrist.

After all, when he had realized that he was hopelessly in love with you and quietly confessed his feeling to his empty room, he hadn't dared to hope that he would be lucky enough to have you as his soulmate.

But he hadn't had a chance to talk to you about it, because you were avoiding him like the plague.

It had been months.

Did you really dislike him to the point that the idea of being his soulmate sent you running?

Did you really hate the idea of him loving you that much?

Was he really that unworthy of you?

Suddenly a thought occurred to him.

Maybe he wasn't your soulmate. Maybe your heart belonged to someone else.

Something primal in him writhed merely at the idea of you being with someone else.

He wouldn't, no, couldn't, accept this. He had never asked for much in life. He had never asked people to stay, or for any lofty dreams.

However if you truly loved someone else, or didn't want to be with him, he would have to be okay with it. He had to be. At the end of the day, all he really desired was your happiness.

But for the first time he deeply desired something, and that something was to be with you. And he'd be damned if he let you walk away without even an explanation.

Didn't he deserve at least that much?

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For months you had successfully avoided Megumi, but it appeared that ended now.

When you heard the knock on your door, you assumed it was Nobara coming to ask you to go shopping with her.

Unsuspecting, you had called out that you were coming, and opened the door.

Only to be faced with the one person you were trying to avoid.

Fushiguro Megumi.

"We need to talk."

You panicked and slammed the door in his face.

Shit. Why did you do that? You just want him to fall out of love with you, not think you hate him!

Your internal word vomit was cut off by him speaking.

"I'm not leaving until we talk. And don't even think about leaving through your window. My demon dog is waiting out there for you."

Fuck. Shit. He had you cornered.

"Why do we need to talk?"

"Just let me in."

His voice was slightly muffled by your door, but you could hear the determination in it.

Accepting that you had no other choice, you sighed and took a deep breath to calm your nerves.

Opening the door you gave him a weak smile.

"Want to come in?"

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Minutes had passed, but neither of you had spoken.

You were perched awkwardly on the edge of your bed, and he was sitting in you desk chair that he had pulled in front of you.

Externally, his face was blank, but inside he was in turmoil.

Every time he attempted to open his mouth and speak, his stomach churned and he felt nauseous. What if after he said everything, you still avoided him? What if you decided he wasn't good enough for you?

Still, he had to try. He walked into this ready to accept it if you didn't feel the same way and continued to avoid him.

"I really, really, like you."

You jumped, startled by the sound of his voice breaking the silence.

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I mean like, more than a friend."

"Uh-"

"Although, I know you are already aware of that."

His eyes darted to his name inked around your wrist, and you slapped a hand over it.

Megumi's heart panged at your reaction, but he continued speaking.

"And I understand if you don't return my feelings. I just wanted to say it to you officially, I guess."

"Okay..."

You said hesitantly, unsure of what to do. On one hand you wanted to accept his feelings and vocalize your own, but on the other hand you wanted to cry, because you couldn't do that to him. You couldn't trap him in a life spent with you. You would just hold him back.

You heard him inhale, and tensed, nervous about what he was going to say next.

"But...I have to know- why have you been avoiding me for the last couple of months. Did I do something?"

"You fell in love with me!"

You snapped, unable to keep it in anymore.

The hurt was evident on his face.

"Is it really that bad...that I love you? Am I really that repulsive to you?"

"No. No no no no."

You waved your hands, tears blurring your vision.

"You don't understand."

You broke down in sobs, your body curling in on itself as you heaved.

"Hey, hey. Are you you okay."

Megumi's heart ached watching you sob. Reaching out, he stopped himself right before he touched your shoulder.

"Would-Would it be okay if I held you?"

You didn't respond.

Unable to continue doing nothing, he grabbed your sleeve and tugged you into his chest.

"I've got you."

He murmured, rubbing your back reassuringly.

"I'm here. I'm here. I want to understand."

You sobbed harder, gripping the front of his hoodie.

"I-It's not you -hic- it's just you can't love me."

"Why not?"

"Because-Because I don't deserve your love! You deserve so much more than me, and I won't allow you to resign yourself to a life shacked to me!"

"Why won't you allow me to!? It's my life, isn't it?!"

"Because I love you!"

The words formed wings, forcing themselves up your throat before bursting out of your mouth.

Stunned silence filled the room, then slowly, both of you dared to look down at his wrist.

And in a single second, your worst fears and his greatest desire were fulfilled. For there, inked upon his wrist, was your name.

Several moments passed as the two of you stared at the letters inked on his pale skin.

"Oh my god."

You breathed, covering your mouth with your hands.

"I'm so, so sorry."

His head snapped up.

"For what?!"

"I'm so sorry you're my soulmate- god you deserve so much more, this is why I was avoiding you. I thought if you didn't see me long enough your feelings would disappear. And even if they didn't, at least I wouldn't be holding you back. I'm so sor-"

"Apologize one more time."

His voice was low, and angry.

"Apologize one more time for loving me back, for being my soulmate, for having me as a soulmate. I dare you. Apologize to me one more time for making me the happiest I've ever been in my life."

"What-"

You didn't understand what he was saying.

"It's up to me to decide what I do, and don't deserve. In my book, I don't deserve you."

You let out a little scoff.

"It's true."

He looked you square in the eyes, his jade green eyes fierce and brimming with intense emotion.

"You make me a better version of myself. When I'm around you, I'm softer, happier, kinder. You make me greedy. You made me truly desire something for the first time in my life. You make my world brighter, and more beautiful."

He clasped you hands in his.

"I don't know why you think you don't deserve me, and we'll talk about that later, but for now, can it be okay if the two of us just agree to be undeserving of each other together, and be selfish?"

You stared at him with your mouth slightly open and tear tracks on your cheeks.

"Can we just selfishly be together, just selfishly seek our own happiness? Who cares if we don't deserve each other. If we're both happy, nothing else matters in this world. When I'm with you, everything else fades away. So please, will you be selfish with me?"

Putting aside all of your insecurities and fears, you leaned forwards and captured his lips with your own in response to his question.

"I love you."

You breathed, pulling back.

"I love you more."

He responded before leaning in again.

I love you. The three most selfish words you had ever said. But you would say them again and again, if it meant that you got to stay by his side.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Omg I had so much fun writing this! I just love him so much.

#lee's 1 year anniversary event #jjk x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #hurt/comfort #angst to fluff #soulmate au #megumi x reader #jjk fics #jjk x reader hurt/comfort

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