#girls club ny | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

delfiore · 1 year ago

Text

—NOT STRONG ENOUGH.

pairing: leah williamson x fem!reader

synopsis: you spend a few days in london with your daughter as you and your wife leah are filing for divorce.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i don't even want kids why am i getting attached to this nonexistent child

“Mama!!” The sweet sound of your baby’s voice filled your ears the moment you stepped through the door.

You had been dragging your suitcase along the walkway, but dropped it by the door to catch the little girl and lift her into your arms.

“Hi, baby!” You exclaimed and shook her side-to-side. “Oh, I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, Mama,” she giggled and writhed her way out of your kisses on the cheek. “I drew a picture for you with your new trophy!”

Without protest, the five-year-old thrust a piece of A4 paper in your face. You let out a quick laugh when you make out the figure in the middle—you—surrounded by bats and the Gotham logo with a golden trophy in your hand.

It was your first season at NY/NJ Gotham, and you managed to win the NWSL Championship for the first time for your club. Instead of returning to New York after the final to celebrate with your teammates, you hopped on the first flight back to London. You needed to see your little girl; after months of constant competitive matches, you were able to finally make time to fly back home.

“You did! Wow, Maevey, this is amazing! You drew this?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wow, wow, wow. We’ll have to hang this up by the fridge, right?”

You walked into the kitchen with your daughter in your arms, heading towards the fridge behind the island. You were aware of your wife’s presence in the room by the oven but focused on balancing Maeve in one arm and hanging her drawing on the fridge with the other instead.

“There we go. That looks so good,” you cooed at her. “Thanks, Maevey!”

“You’re welcome, Mama.”

When you set the girl down, like lightning, she was on her feet sprinting towards the living room, no doubt grabbing a toy she had left somewhere on the ground. “Hey, no running, remember?” You called behind her and shook your head.

You glanced back at your wife, who, whilst stirring a pasty white batter in a clear bowl, still hadn’t made the effort to return your gaze.

“Congrats on the Championship,” she said without looking at you.

“Thanks.” And that was the extent of your conversation.

The house you once called home was cold when you left it, now it was even colder. The only warmth left came from a single tiny candle that managed you the smallest relief, and it was Maeve.

“Mama?”

“Yes, bub?”

“Why don’t you sleep in your room anymore? With Mummy?”

You had dreaded the question that had just come out of your daughter’s lips right after you tucked her in. Maeve was a smart kid, and you knew she would have been able to put two and two together when she saw you unpacking your suitcase in the guest room.

“Well, kiddo,” you started, brushing the stray hairs away from Maeve’s eyes. She looked so much like Leah when she pouted. “Mummy’s not too happy with me right now. So I’m giving her some space.”

“Is it because of me?” She said quietly, making your heart squeeze.

“No, of course not. Of course not, bub. How about you go to sleep now, and we will talk about this some other time, hm?” You poked her cheek gently. “Whatever happens, your Mummy and I will never stop loving you, and we will always do what’s best for you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.” You leaned over the edge of the bed to kiss your little girl on the forehead. “Now, remember what I always say? ‘You are strong, you are capable, you are loved.’”

“‘I am strong, I am capable, I am loved.’” Maeve repeated your words, almost immediately as you said them.

It was a mantra you repeated to yourself when your doubts started to get in the way of your potential, ever since you were a young girl making your debut for Arsenal until now. Those were the words you echoed to Leah when she had done her ACL, and when she wasn’t strong enough to chase away the clouds one day.

“I’m strong,” Leah had just managed to say through the tears, “I’m capable, I’m loved.”

“That’s right,” you whispered and smiled softly. “Now go to sleep, or I’ll sell all your toys.”

This elicited a giggle from the girl, as you turned off the lights. Making your way back to the guest room, you noticed the light in the living room was on downstairs. The tranquility you felt after spending time reading and talking with your daughter made you feel brave to face Leah, brave that whatever interaction you would have with her would not end in screaming and arguing. The woman was sitting on the couch, scrolling on her phone, a match played on the TV, as it always was.

“Maevey seems used to sleeping on her own now,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Soon enough she’ll be off to college.”

The best you got out of her was a short smile, and you would take it at that point. Your last conversation wasn’t the friendliest, and you had hoped Maeve wasn’t aware.

“She cried for you the night you left,” Leah spoke. “Slept in our bed for two weeks.”

Maybe it was the fact that Leah’s head was pressed against the side of the couch—the way she used to do every time you two had enough time off to sit down on the couch—or the fact that she still referred to the master bedroom as both yours and hers, that made your heart squeeze. For a moment it felt as if you had your family back, and things would eventually go back to the way it was.

“Only two?” You scoffed but smiled.

“Y/N, you know this isn’t a long-term solution. Maeve needs you. You can’t just fuck off to America and come back to visit for a few days every few months.”

“I know,” you said, clenching your jaw. “My agent’s looking at options within Europe. Germany, maybe.”

“Why not in England?”

“That is if any club wants me,” you shrugged. “Frankfurt seems interested, so.”

You’d like to think there would always be a place for you at Arsenal. Growing up, while your peers had posters of Mia Hamm, Kristine Lilly, or Abby Wambach on their walls, you were looking eastwards to the likes of Rachel Yankey and Kelly Smith for inspiration. Your heart was red, white and North London and it broke into pieces the day you had to leave—not because of your performance, but because by then London had started becoming too suffocating. And if you were going to be a good parent to Maeve, you had to put the oxygen mask on yourself first.

“I do want to be close to Maeve,” you said, more to yourself.

Leah hummed. A moment later, she opened the drawer next to the couch and pulled out a thin folder. Placing it on the cushion between you and her, she made the decision to leave the living room to go upstairs.

The respondent line on the first page awaited your name and signature. Hers was already printed on the line above that, the ink was already dry like she had made this decision long ago. You were frozen to the seat with the divorce papers in your hands, and that night you cried yourself to sleep.

You took Maeve to the park the next day. You had extended an invitation to Leah, but she declined, saying she had errands to run. Maeve wanted to go to the playground in the park, so you packed the two of you a small picnic, and a football, in case she was up for a kick-about.

She was telling you about a goal she scored at school the previous Friday when you returned home. Upon entering the two-story house, you heard laughter coming from the kitchen. As much as you wanted to listen to your daughter recount her story, your ears focused in on the conversation and what sounded like two female voices, and laughter . . . Leah’s laugh, something you haven’t heard in a long while. You regretted that that was the case.

“Mummy! I played at the park today, and I scored so many goals against Mama!”

“Is that right?” Leah gasped and picked up Maeve in her arms. “Looks like Mama’s got some competition in the striker position.”

“Hi, Auntie Lia,” Maeve said to the other woman in the room.

You barely managed a smile as you watched your former teammate greet your daughter, trying not to freak out at the fact that she was standing much too close to your wife when you first came in. You couldn’t help the uneasy feeling that harbored in the pit of your stomach seeing it, and, as selfish as it sounded, you couldn’t stomach the thought that Leah might have started to move on.

“Hi, Y/N. It’s good to see you again,” Lia smiled at you.

“Long time no see,” you said.

“Come on, little one. Will you show me how you scored those goals at school?” The Swiss woman extended a hand to Maeve and led her to the backyard.

“Don’t,” Leah said as soon as your daughter was out of sight.

“Don’t what?”

“I know you’re giving me that look.”

“I’m not giving you any looks, Leah,” you smiled sadly, and unpacked your daypack, putting the dirty Tupperware containers into the dishwasher.

“Lia’s been a great help with Maeve. Without her, I don’t think I would have been able to get through the first few months.” Her tone had a slight edge to it, but you understood why.

“I know,” you replied, “I’m not saying anything.”

“That’s the fucking problem, Y/N. You never say anything you’re thinking! You make me do this fucking guessing game with you, and you don’t even bother defending yourself when I assumed the worst about you, and you run away! Do you truly just not give a shit about anything?”

You took a sharp exhale, checking to see if Maeve was looking. Through the sliding door, you could see that wasn’t, she was playing 1v1 against Lia instead.

“Please, Leah. Not now,” you sighed. “I’ll sign the papers, alright? And then I’ll be out of your hair.”

You didn’t see because your back was turned to her, but your wife shook her head, causing a few tears that had collected in the corner of her eyes to fall. Then, you heard her storming past you out to the backyard.

“I do give a shit,” you mumbled to yourself. You did, so much, but maybe your family was better off without you. Watching Maeve kicking her ball into the little goal you got her whilst your wife and Lia pretended to defend her, you wondered if maybe they really were better off.

Your relationship was never perfect. She was Leah, and you were you. You used to love the routine you two shared until it turned sour and you would arrive to training in separate cars. You didn’t know when your marriage crumbled, just that when you looked back to assess the damage, it was already beyond repair. Leah telling you one night that she wished to separate was your wake-up call.

You had seen your friends and colleagues date and break up, and pretend that being in the same room afterward wasn’t the most torturous thing they’d ever had to endure. You never imagined that it would be your turn, and how much it hurt. How does someone be a human being whilst going through a divorce, and be a good parent at the same time?

“Mama, why are you crying?”

You quickly turned away and wiped at your eyes when you heard the tiny voice coming from your bedroom door. You must not have shut it properly. Maeve was standing in front of the door in her adorable dinosaur pajamas, and her favorite plush toy beneath her one arm. You would have given your entire world for that adorable punk right then.

“It’s okay, kiddo. I’m just a bit sad. What are still you doing up?” You gestured for her to come inside. Normally, Maeve would not hesitate to jump into your lap right away, but instead, she climbed onto the bed, and sat next to you like an adult.

“Why are you sad, Mama?” She said quietly, fiddling with her stuffed animal, her round eyes looking up at you with concern. “Everyone is sad.”

“What do you mean, bub?”

“Mummy is sad too. She was crying before you came home,” Maeve said, her bottom lip quivering. “She said it was because she missed you.”

The revelation left you speechless.

Your daughter turned to you. “Should I be sad too? Everyone is so sad.”

“No, baby, come here.” As soon as you pulled her into your lap, she started crying.

“Oh, baby. My little Maevey,” you hated that you made your little girl so upset, arms wrapped around your neck and broken sobs raking from her chest against yours. “Sometimes, people argue, and it’s very sad when they do, but it’s all a part of life, Maevey. Me and Mummy are arguing, but it has never been about you.”

“But I don’t want you and Mummy to argue anymore.”

“I know, baby,” you had nothing else to say that might offer her some comfort. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been around as much. It was my fault, nothing to do with you.”

You held Maeve for another minute or two until her cries subsided into choked sniffles and tearful sighs. “It’s okay,” you would repeat, “I love you so much”, hoping that it might reassure your daughter until she removed her head from your shoulder, wiped her tears away, and through hiccups, said, “You are strong, you are capable, you are loved.”

Letting out the smallest sob, you nodded and pulled her back into your chest. Your little girl, your heir, your legacy, only five years of age, yet she understood the significance of those words. You had won trophies and championships, but nothing compared to the burst of joy in your heart having her echo them back to you. It meant you meant something to her. It meant you were doing something right.

The next morning, after you and Leah had seen Maeve off to kindergarten, you gently placed the divorce papers that Leah had given you a couple of nights ago on the table opposite her. As you sat down by the dining table opposite her, you saw the way she eyed the files like you had just handed her a pack of poison and expected her to swallow it.

“I’ll agree to everything you bring to the table, within reason of course. This needn’t be a whole ruckus for Maeve. Whatever you want,” you started, darting your eyes up to Leah.

She continued to stare at the divorce papers on the table but kept silent.

“But . . . If you still have even just a tiny drop of affection left for me, I’m asking you—begging you—to reconsider this and give me another chance.” You took a deep breath. “This year away from you, from Maeve, made me realize that you two are the most important thing in my life. You make me a better person by just giving me grace and being who you are. And I failed you, I know. I’ve not been the wife and partner you needed, but if you give me one more chance to right my wrongs, I’d give everything to have my family back. I’ll go to therapy, we can go to couples counseling together, whatever you want, just please . . . please give me one more chance to make this right.”

Leah shook her head quietly when you looked up, but then she sunk her head into her palm and you heard a shaky exhale.

“I’ve tried so hard since March to move on from you, eight months since then, and just from one of your little speeches, I’m back to square one,” she laughed bitterly, wiping her eyes of salty tears. “You always give me false hope that it’ll get better, and I hate you for that, because it never does.”

You swallowed and moved to kneel in front of her. Your hands were shaking, but you reached for her hands.

“I know that. I know I’ve been apathetic before. I lost sight of what’s important. I used football as my excuse, and I did it. I won the championship, but there’s still this void in my heart that no trophy can fill,” you squeezed her hand with both of yours. “Please, Lee. I love you, and I need you back in my life. I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you and Maeve, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it. If you’ll let me.”

By then, Leah didn’t bother hiding her sobs. Tears were flowing down the curves of her cheeks like waterfalls, as she leaned forward into your touch, clutching your hands like they might save her. You cursed under your breath. Watching your wife fall apart at the seams when she had been ice-cold with you the past few days broke your heart to pieces, as you pressed soft kisses to her wet cheek and whispered loving words in her ear.

“Okay,” she said quietly and sniffled.

“Yeah?” You smiled hopefully.

Leah nodded tearfully. “Please. This is the last time, Y/N.”

You knew that. You knew if you fucked this up you would lose everything, Maeve might never have a relationship with you again, and you lose the one person that keeps you grounded.

Maybe Leah would be much happier with someone else, someone who treated her well and could fill the co-parenting role for Maeve. You were sure there were others out there who fit the bill, but you were selfish, and you would fight for them because this was your family, your home, your love.

“I’ll tell my agent to work on the move. I’ll try looking in England again, Frankfurt will be the worst-case scenario. Even if the only option is to resign at Gotham, I’ll make it work. I’ll fly home more often, I’ll help you with—”

You were cut off with Leah pressing her lips against yours desperately. You couldn’t restrain the grin that made its way onto your face, as you kissed your wife back.

“God, I got you to talk and now you wouldn’t shut up,” she mumbled, which made you laugh.

“Well, get used to it,” you said. “I’m gonna tell you how much I love you every day, and I’ve got eight months to make up for too, so it’s a lot of talking.”

“How about you show me how much you love me, huh? Actions speak louder than words, right?”

epilogue. A month later.

A blaring alarm awoke you from your warm slumber. It was a Sunday, and you had forgotten you had the alarm switched on. You felt Leah stir next to you, and the corner of your mouth pulled up.

“Christ, what time is it?” She asked, her voice low and cracking. You’d always adored the way her voice becomes raspy in the morning.

“Eight,” you said, combing your fingers through her hair. Leaning in to plant a kiss on your cheeks, you whispered. “We have to get Maeve ready for football.”

“Hmm,” you heard her sigh, and snuggle deeper into your chest. “Five more minutes.”

Your wife opened one eye and grinned. You thanked the Heavens that she granted you another chance.

“Okay,” you kissed her head, “five more minutes.”

Just as soon as you lay back down, and Leah had gotten comfortable again, you heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet, the speed and agility of which you could only attribute to a five-year-old whose enthusiasm for football might be a little too much at 8 o’clock in the morning.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagines #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x you #leah williamson angst #leah williamson #woso fanfics #woso imagines #woso x reader

1K notes · View notes

sierrale8ne · 1 month ago

Text

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER ELEVEN

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l

warnings angst, allusions to sex, more julian mentions

kalena speakss 🪽! yall will hate me and thank me for this chapter, sorry :(

July 2025 — Hartford, Connecticut

“Nuh uh! I’m standing next to Boogers, she was my senior!”

“She was everyone’s senior, she was here for too damn long.” Sarah responds, making the bunch of my former teammates laugh.

I don’t even bother to fight back. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss these girls until I was across the country. Connecticut has become home to me, five years of lessons and friendships that I’ll hold into forever. It’s my first time back in Connecticut since the national championship, and the feeling is unreal.

The amount of UConn jerseys is unreal, cheers each time I checked in, after every shot. It became normal to me, loudest crowds in LA, then Minnesota, and now Connecticut. My third home.

We all stand at center court at Mohegan Sun, all of my former teammates excluding Aubrey who’s in New York and Kaitlyn who’s in San Francisco.

We take the picture and everyone disperses, breaking into a multitude of conversations.

“So, we going out tonight? Like old times?” Ice is beaming at me, a smile fitting her face as she tugs me down with an arm around my neck.

I chuckle. “I’m too damn old to be showing up at Ted’s again.” I mutter. My shoes squeak against the hardwood with each step I take to get out of her hold.

“No, not Ted’s, a different— that doesn’t matter. You coming? Please?”

I nod, tugging on the gatorade towel that accumulates the sweat around my neck. “Cam’s coming too.”

“Perfect! The more the merrier.”

—

The more the merrier was right.

The club was loud and fucking packed, from athletes to college kids, anyone that you could imagine. My leg bounces along to the music playing while Allie and Azzi talk about God knows what a few feet in front of me. The beer I’m drinking glides down my throat while I look around.

“This place is jumpin’.” I murmur to Caroline next to me.

She nods, the hair that frames her face swinging over her shoulder as she looks at me. “I know. Maybe you can get some play tonight.”

“You think I’m not gettin’ any in LA?” I laugh, taking another swig.

“I know you’re not getting any. I have my sources.”

I roll my eyes, spinning back around in my bar stool for another drink.

There was definitely enough alcohol in my system. Tequila burning in my chest and a couple beers downed as well. I’m well beyond thinking straight, which to me is fine since we don’t play again for another two days.

“Lemme get a dirty shirley.” I tell the nice bartender who’s probably cringing at my alcohol breath.

“Can I get one of those too? And two shots of vanilla crown, please?”

The voice literally makes me freeze.

I know it well, so well, that I’m not even surprised when I look to my right and Nyla sits there with a smile towards the bartender. I haven’t seen her in what feels like years, even if the last time was in Tampa during the tourney.

She looks good. I mean, she always does. It’s why I let her walk all over me for so long. Why I kept going back no matter how much it hurt.

Nyla wears a blue corset top, it contrasts beautifully with her brown skin and cups her breasts in a way that drags my eyes down to them. Sober, I wouldn’t have paid her any mind. But right now my head is spinning and I can’t help it.

“Good to see you.” She feeds me a tight lipped smile.

I look over my shoulder at Caroline, who is no longer paying any attention to me.

“You look good, Ny.” I say through squinted eyes.

The bartender slides my drink to me over the table, her’s as well. And when Nyla picks up her drink, and her lips purse around the small black straw, my mind immediately goes to Maraye.

I haven’t thought about her in a while, not since she left my apartment. Yet, the second I look at Nyla I think of her. The way her hands, done up with pretty french tips, would wrap around the glass cup. Or the way she smiled at me when I bought her a drink that night in Atlanta.

I turn away, feeling the wood of the bar dug into my back as I watch Allie, and now Cameron and Caroline. They’re inebriated, definitely more than me, and dancing freely to Teenage Dream by Katy Perry.

“You don’t wanna talk?”

“What’s there to talk about, Nyla.” The statement navigates through the air, and the second it reaches her ears she huffs.

“You’ve never been good at talking about things.” Nyla laughs.

I’m quick to scoff and take another hefty gulp of my shirley. “I’ve always been good at that. You just don’t seem to listen to me.”

We sit in an uncomfortable silence, her heal taps against the tiled floor in a rhythm I wish would stop.

“We should talk, P. About Tampa, about everything. You ghosted me the morning after.”

“And you ghosted me after I told you I had feelings for you.” I returned. “It was forever ago, Nyla. Move on.”

I see her down one of her shots before slamming the small glass down on the counter. She takes in a sharp breath of air, swiveling in her chair to look at me. Nyla’s upset.

So many months of me getting angry, then realizing how badly I need her, then going right back. Countless times spent having sex with her rather than realizing how much I was letting myself go by just being around her.

She ruined me, and now that I’m not falling for it, she’s upset.

“Why’re you being such an ass about this?” She yells, the music drowns out the noise but I can still make out the bass in her voice. “It’s that bitch in LA, huh? That’s why you can’t talk to me?”

“Watch your fucking mouth.” I snap almost instantly.

It’s too often that I forget that Maraye and I aren’t the only two people in the world. That everyone around us still sees the way we look at each other or act around one another.

We co-exist with everyone else. They are also affected by the shit we do. The things we say.

The way we kiss each other.

“Oh so she is your girlfriend?”

“You’on’t get to be mad about shit. I’m setting boundaries with you.” I say, refusing to bring Raye’s name up again and make things worse. I care about Maraye, obviously, and if I had to hear a girl who literally ripped my heart out of my chest and stomped on it repeatedly call her out of her name again, I might get suspended.

I finish what’s left of my vodka filled drink, mouth tasting of grenadine and tingling faintly from the sprite.

“I want you, P. Y’know that.” Nyla hums. She’s so damn sadistic. She knows the exact way to get under my skin all the while turning my brain to mush for her.

“No you don’t.” I scoff. “You don’t know what you want, Ny. That’s why I ended all this shit.”

This conversation is entirely reminiscent of the one I had with Raye earlier this week. Which makes me think that she didn’t do anything about the pressing Julian-situation.

Then I’m getting angry all over again. Pissed off that not only is the girl that I want is probably at home pillow talking her boyfriend, but that the girl I once was fucking helpless over is sitting in front of me telling me everything I want to hear from her. Not her–Nyla, her–Maraye.

Even though I have on shorts and t-shirt, my body still feels like I’m on fire as if I was wearing a full snow suit. The alcohol and combined anger has my brain running in laps, from Maraye to Nyla to the fucking flight I have to be on time for in the morning.

And it’s hard to keep it all intact with the way Nyla fucking looks at me. Like she hates me but there’s still a glint in her eye that reminds me of the first time we met. When I saw her in the stands sophomore year, her hair was short and brown with blonde streaks. She was everything then.

“Paige.”

“No, Nyla.”

But now, I don't even recognize her. Her voice sounds like a fever dream, or a fragment of my imagination.

“I can fix this.”

Her hand rests on my knee. I should jump or push her away but I just stare at it like an idiot.

My legs spread apart subconsciously, welcoming her between them. And I am an idiot, allowing her to stand in this place that I have decided belongs to Maraye.

“Lemme fix it, P. Like old times.”

We’re at eye level like this. Her hand trailing up my thigh and to my shoulder. I need to push her away. Tell her to get off me, and then head back to the hotel. By myself.

But I can’t.

For whatever damn reason. I can’t.

—

July 2025 — Los Angeles, California

I rock awkwardly on my heels, bottom lip tucked between my teeth so tight it might bleed.

My heart beats rapidly in my chest while I wait for the door to swing open. I can hear the hum of the air conditioning system blow through the hallway and the sound of my breaths coming out heavy and ragged.

The lock click echos when the door finally does pull open and there he stands. Hand stuffed in the pocket of his black dress pants.

It’s crazy, that just months ago I was head over heels over this man. The sight of him like this would’ve sent me into orbit, but now it’s like he’s just here. Just another person in my world.

“We need to talk.” I stutter, eyes glued to him.

“Yeah.” Julian responds, turning around and walking into his apartment. He doesn’t close the door, leaving it open for me to follow him, I do so not forgetting to lock it behind me.

“This needa be quick. I got a meeting.” He murmurs as we approach his bedroom.

I haven’t been here in forever, and that’s totally and completely my own fault. I’ve been so damn avoidant. Sure I was always working, but I made time in my day to go see Paige or Rickea or my sister. But with Julian I just chose not to.

“That’s fine.” I say. “We uh, Ion think this is working, Ju.”

He hums, nodding and throwing on a button up shirt over his wife beater shirt.

I don’t even think he’s surprised, more content with the result. Like he expected this the second I rang his doorbell. Maybe even earlier than that.

“Damn.” It’s not a disappointing damn, quite the opposite actually.

“I’m sorry. I just— I can’t give you what you want. We’re one opposite ends of life right now, and I don’t wanna hurt you. Really.”

I don’t know how much is the truth and how much is meant to be a lie to get him to not talk about our last argument. I know I can’t give him what he needs, it’s not because of my alleged time management struggles.

My heart wasn’t in it. Even if it wasn’t for Paige, I’d be calling it quits because I’m not into him the way I should be. She taught me that. The lengths I’d go to for someone I had feelings for, I simply don’t think I could do for him.

“That’s it? Y’just can’t make time for me?”

I huff at the undertone of his voice.

“Nah, this isn’t me arguing. You really think that?”

I nod. “Among other things, yes.” I can’t look at him. Because even though I think he doesn’t, Julian knows me well. He knows my tells and the way I react under pressure. “You deserve better than me, Julian.”

His cologne burns through the air when he sprits it out across his skin. I’m sure that the second I leave, that damned scent would be ingrained into my mind forever, I’d never forget it.

“And this has nothing to do with her?”

Julian doesn’t look away from me for a second, staring holes into my soul that make me feel naked. My hands sweat, and I stuff them in the back pockets of my jeans.

I’d be dumb to stand here and keep lying. I’m already an idiot for thinking that everything would be peaches and cream after this. So I take a breath of air, which basically confirms any doubts Julian has running in his head.

“I— Ju.”

“I fuckin’ knew it. You sleepin’ with her?”

“No. No, Ju. She just— it’s so easy to be myself around her, and I feel like I'm always fighting to be myself with you.” I explain, partially trying to save my ass. “I dunno.”

“So that’s it. You cheat on me and think shit just gonna work out with her?”

“All I can control is this. We aren’t working, so we’re breaking up. That’s it, Julian.” I say, fully aware of how disgusted he looks with me right now.

Never in a million years did I think this shit could happen to me. I’m so conflicted, I don’t deserve whatever happy ending may come with Paige. I don’t deserve his forgiveness either, that’s for damn sure.

“Whatever.” Julian shrugs, walking out of the room with his shoes in hand. I follow behind him, trying to meditate the situation any way I can. It doesn’t work, as I expected.

He trots to the door, unlocking it again and pulling it open. He stands in the doorway, looking at me expectantly. His height looms over me as he waits.

Words form on my tongue and instantly die there. I shut my mouth, slipping through the corridor and hearing it slam behind me.

And for a brief second, I feel good. Like everything is going the way it’s supposed to.

Then the reality of it all hits me, and I feel like I want to run into a wall.

—

July 2025 — Hartford, Connecticut

My heartbeat rings in my ears while I make an attempt to catch my breath.

Nyla lays next to me, sweaty and naked, and months ago I would’ve been completely enamored by the sight. But now I’m just fucking disgusted.

She’s gorgeous, always has been. That’s not the issue.

The issue is her lips don’t taste like that vanilla sweet cream I would always taste after being with Raye. It’s almost bitter, just pure alcohol.

I eagerly throw my legs off the side of the bed. We’re at her apartment, not too far from my hotel. I feel her stare into my back, piercing through me and suddenly I’m well aware of my own nakedness. I toss my bra followed by my shirt over my head before picking up my boxers and putting them on too. The bed shifts, dipping slightly before I feel her hand on my arms.

The events of the last hour have sobered me up tremendously, her hands that once were burning hot to the touch are suddenly freezing. Almost dead.

“Where you goin’?” Nyla asks. Her voice is raspy from the screaming of my name. It should make me feel good, as it always seems to no matter who I’m with.

This time it doesn’t.

I shrug her off of me standing up from the bed and searching for the rest of my clothes. My shorts, socks, shoes all scattered somewhere. I threw the hair tie that kept my hair in a ponytail somewhere too, and Nyla was definitely crazy enough to use it to make a clone of myself.

“Paige, I said—”

“I heard what you said. I’m getttin’ the fuck outta here.”

“You’re not doing this shit again.” She grumbles, pulling on her panties and trying to chase after me. Nyla grabs my arm as she spins me around, looking up at me while I stare up at the ceiling in an attempt to avoid her tits in my face.

“This was a mistake.” I explain, pushing her off of me and finally putting on my shorts. My shoes follow. “You and me are fuckin’ done. Ion know how many times I gotta say that for it to click in your damn head.”

“‘Cause you say shit like that and then come crawling right back!” She’s yelling now, and I can only imagine how irritated her neighbors have become with us. “You wanna act like you didn’t just fuck me? Or that you didn’t tell me you missed me.”

“I’m fucking drunk! That’s the only reason why I do any of this shit with you.” I yell, back. “Ion want shit to do with you, Nyla. I’m moving on.”

“Moving onto that ho, in LA? Is she better than me?”

“You got one more fuckin’ time to—” I cut myself off with a heavy breath, shaking my head and grabbing the rest of my belongings off her nightstand. “Get over it. We’re done. This is never, and I mean never, fuckin’ happening again.” I muse. I’m quick to rush out of the apartment, phone in hand, while I shut the door.

I feel dirty. Like I just committed a fucking felony and was on the run.

The cool air finally hits me like a breath of fresh air when I finally touch the streets. My hotel wasn’t far, a block, maybe more, away.

I’m ashamed of myself, for going back to Nyla and falling for her dumbass words as if they meant something. They never did.

Then it hits me.

Maraye.

I nearly stop in the middle of the street before picking up my pace and walking into the hotel building.

God knows what decision she’s made. She could be with Julian right now telling him everything he wants to hear. Or she could be waiting for me. To call her, to text her, to tell her that I miss her.

And believe it or not, I do. I fucking miss her crazy. Her voice and those gorgeous fucking eyes. The way she listens to me like I’m the only person left on Earth, like it’s just me and her. I miss her smell, the Chanel no.5 combined with some vanilla body spray that she almost always seemed to have on, that permanently left its mark on my nose and my soul. Everything about her being, I miss it like crazy.

I’m in the elevator, the hum of the gears and the corny ass elevator music that plays only leaves me with my thoughts. Feelings of disparity and fucking anger.

How could I be so stupid. All it took was a few drinks and a fucking glare and now I’ve made arguably the biggest mistake of my life.

My phone starts ringing when I pull out my key card. I stand in the hallway, flipping the device over and staring at it.

Her name, in bright and bold font with the anatomical heart emoji next to it. It’s so intimate, an emoji that I think I’ve only ever used in correspondence with her. The picture is recent, I changed it after she left my place that night. It’s the two of us seated on my couch, her head resting on my shoulder with her lips in that cute pout she does in almost all her photos. My eyes are red from sleep but I still keep a nose-scrunched smile on my face.

I catch myself just standing there, looking at her looking at me until the call goes to voicemail.

I’m glad that it does, because I know that if I were to pick up the phone and hear her voice as she talks I might break down.

I unlock the door, kicking my shoes off the minute the door closes. I rest my back against it, head tossed onto the white painted portal.

Then my phone buzzes again.

i miss you. call me in the morning k?

I fucked up. Fucked it all up.

#sierrale8ne #kalena’s works ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers smut #uconn wbb #la sparks #lesbian #my fic #40 days and 40 nights

187 notes · View notes

nysrage · 11 months ago

Text

Rollin’ To Love, Onyankapon.

synopsis: you and your friends scheduled a girls night at cascade for valentines & love seemed to roll your way.

content: romance, fluff, hard to get reader, & barely suggestive themes.

ny’s notes: so while taking a short break to reflect & improve my writing i came up with this new au inspired by @kaegetsmewetter. i advise listening to the songs i linked during their little moment to really immerse yourselves & hope you enjoy! happy love day babies! 🏹🩷

“I-I’m going to fall!”

You didn’t think your valentine’s would be going this way but it was debatable that it was better than how you’d normally spend it. This same recycled day had been the same for as long as you could remember. Just you alone in your room eating ice cream and watching your favorite movie— love jones. The few romances you had never made it past this societies ‘talking stage’ or either ended up as one of those emotionally draining situationships. It was as if love and romance never truly worked for you and only brought trouble.

Slowly you’d come to accept it, until there was a ring of your doorbell. Opening the door to your friends holding balloons, roses and some valentines cookies, “HAPPY VALENTINES BOO!” brushing past you and welcoming themselves into your home. The sight putting a smile on your face, it’d been so long that someone had done something so special for you beside your parents. “Awe y’all really didn’t have to do this..” engulfing them into a group hug and holding them tight, grateful for such attentive friends.

“Girl you deserve to feel loved on this special day too! That’s why we decided to spend the night with you.” kyndall reassured, popping one of the pink candies in her mouth.

“So go get dressed loser, we’re going to cascade!” Dallas giggled, pushing you towards your room. Whirling around in her hold with a questioning brow. “Really cascade..?”

“What.? I’m tired of the club scene and we could use some good fun like when we were teens!” Dallas shrugged, with that soft glint of excitement in her eyes. “C’mon it’ll be fun..” kyndall coaxed, fluttering those volume lashes until you gave in. surrendering your hands in the air and walking towards your room.

“Okay, okay! No promises i’m getting in that rink tho!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Oh my god, i’m never letting yall convince me into coming here againn!” you whined, gripping onto your bestfriend’s jacket for dear life. Legs wobbling from the rolling skates gliding across the smooth floor not seeking to stop anytime soon, especially not with the crowd of people blocking your way to get to that safety wall you could hold onto.

Saturdays were still apparently the hottest for cascade, everyone seeking for fun outlet for the night. The flashing multicolored lights dancing around the walls and floors, as you and your friends entered. A upbeat set of early 2000’s song blasting over the speakers, as you waited in line to secure a pair of skates. “girl, girl girl. the niggas is out, look!” her constant tapping in of your arm made you finally look up. the group of skaters in particular that caught kyndall’s eye, vibing along to ray j’s ‘sex can i’ with their routines. the front two standing out from the rest, one with a colored buzz cut and street wear fashion. The other a fine chocolate man with a white fitted polo tee that hugged his slim-muscular build, and head full of soft deep waves. Beautiful smile still white and flashing even beneath the hues that illuminated the floor.

“Yeah, we got to get to that floor. Now.” kyndall swooned, grabbing her skates and footing towards the nearest bench to get them on.

“Damn bitch. wait for us!” Dallas laughed, the two of you following behind your eager friend.

Leading you right to this moment, settled into an uneasy stance and terrified of the little control you had over your legs right now. Skates clunking against one another as you tried your best to glide smoothly across the floor. “you got it, glide one foot after the other..” Dallas instructed, but it just seemed as if your uncoordinated body just couldn’t get with it. Wobbling above the laminated floor. Hands wrapped tightly around hers as a effort to keep yourself steady and upright, praying that you wouldn’t eat up the floor.

“Okay, m’gonna let go.” Dallas nodded, eyes on yours as she slowly released your hand. “Don’t overthink it boo.” Your body wobbling a little before it steadied as you continued to roll slowly. “I-I think i got it..” you breathed out, hand cautiously out in front of you.

“Think you’ll be good while i take a few quick laps?” She questioned and you nodded, waving her off trying to concentrate on keeping yourself steady. Counting your steps to yourself as you try not to fall on your ass in front of the big ass crowd of people. Smiling to yourself at the slightest improvement and increase in speed until another skater brushed past you, bumping into your side with a scoff. “Girl move your non-skating ass out the rink, tryna be seen n’ shit..”

Tripping over your skates and stumbling forward when suddenly a quick hand caught your arm. One strong hand resting on your waist and steadying your body before your feet could’ve swept up off the ground. “woah, you good ma?” A shaky breath left your lips as you brush your crimped hair from out of your face, “Yea, i-i’m just gonna—” refusing to look up, rolling away with a face full of embarrassment. Strong hand still holding onto your arm until you sat firmly along the bench. “Don’t trip, it’s a lot of people showing out for the crowd.”

“Slow sets the best to roll to.”

If it was even possible you became more embarrassed once your eyes met the person talking to you, The man being one of the smooth skaters that led one of the groups from earlier. Now that he was up close you could take him in fully, from his perfectly sculpted jawline to his tattoo covered arms. Those pearly white canines covered with custom open faced grills on display as he expressed his love for slow sets. barely even realizing you’d been staring awkwardly as you looked him over, but he paid it no mind just properly introducing himself to you. “Shit my bad I’m onyankapon, most just call me ony tho.”

“y/n.” briefly introducing yourself, “i can’t see how y’all do all this without falling on your ass..” you huffed, frustrated from the short time you spent out in the rink.

Ony laughed at your cute little pout, taking a seat next to you. He couldn’t lie you caught his eyes from the moment he saw you. Pretty skin glowing beneath the illuminated lights as you cautiously rolled within the crowd of people, lip tucked behind your pretty teeth with focus in your eyes. “Been doing this since grade school, plenty of practice.”

“but you just feel and move with the beat” he further explained, pointing out the many people that demonstrated his words. “Don’t think just let your body do all the work and it’ll come to you..”

The dj mixed into a slow set, the lights dimming into soft romantic hues as the ‘unthinkable’ remix by alicia keys and drake began blasting through the speakers. Mood quickly setting in as the skaters eased into the tempo, dj extending the intro as he shares his quick sentiment over the mic. “This for all my single people that hadn’t quite found that one, or even haven’t found the right words to say your ready for more. but ima help you get to ‘em tonight!”

Unbeknownst it was a song the both of you found yourselves listening to quite often these days. Not knowing when that right person would come into your life and changing that lonely destiny you found yourself believing more and more. Mindlessly swaying to the beat, ony gave you a quick glance before standing with his hand held out for you. Your eyes widening in panic when he suddenly ask you to skate with him but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, not when this had been that meant to be feeling this exact song had spoken of. Not waiting for him to finally get his one on one time with you eventually while he was in his element, and if he had to take the lead then he’d do exactly that.

“oh, no, no, no.” reaching back for a seat that was no longer in your grasp, ony shooting that same charming smile that caught your sights earlier as he pulled you onto the floor against your will. “i got you pretty, you trust me..?”

A small look of uncertainty occupying your face as you look over the crowd of skaters that vanished as you look back into his sincere eyes, giving in and uneasily skating forward to get closer to his towering form. Ony met you halfway and suavely spun your body into his, arms snaking around your waist as you took a slow unsteady breath as his hands rest just above your inner thighs. Heart thumping wildly in your chest as your body grows warm from those minuscule touches. Mind filled with nothing but him in that moment, that intoxicating jimmy choo cologne took over your senses as his protective arms tightened around you. Body turning to putty as you practically melting into his arms, nothing but a soft whisper leaving your lips.

“ony..”

“just focus on me…” warm breath fanning against your skin as his lip brushed the shell of your ear, keeping you pressed flush against him. Helping guide your movement to the slow rhythmic beat of the song, your small soft hands resting atop of his comfortably. Body submissively relaxing into his as you following his lead, swaying in sync as the two of you lose yourselves in a sensual stroll “there you go, feel the beat.” tapping softly to the beat against your thigh.

Maintaining a steady speed as if there were no one else in the building but the two of you. Strolling together for the rest of the night until the dj came to a satisfied close, happy with the outcome his slow sensual set had for the day of love. The two of you walking out the building together as the muffled music leaking through the doors. “Thank you for tonight.” you smiled, nervously pushing a loose crimp behind your ear. “Your a really good instructor.”

“Well I had a good partner.” he chuckled, that charm of his now in full swing “If you ever wanted to learn some more moves, I could give you my number..”

“Maybe even make into a little weekly date.”

“Maybe..” you hummed, looking him over as you backed away towards your friends. “same day and time next week?”

“bet, I never got your number tho.” reaching for his phone, as you giggled in the distance. Testing his patience on how much time and effort he’d really put into getting to know you, Opening the passenger door with a small smirk. “I know, see you next week ony..”

Leaving ony nothing but the memory of you and a mental note to be here waiting for you the next week.

#nysrage works ✭#black writers #onyankopon x reader #rollerskater!ony au #ony #aot onyankopon #aot x black!reader #aot x chubby reader #onyankapon #aot onyankopon x black y/n #aot onyankopon x black!reader #onyankopon x chubby reader #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x black!reader #onyankopon x black reader smut #onyankopon smut #onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon #ony x black reader

559 notes · View notes

madridfangirl · 6 months ago

Text

Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fic)

Chapter 7

(Series Link)

Jude * female reader. Mature Language in parts.

Synopsis: A chance encounter in a tiny Madrid cafe with the newest superstar of her fav club. The two couldn't be more different, yet both feel the pull toward the other. Would this girl be the one he finally falls for? Would she make him change his ways? Even though she resists him every step of the way, would he fight all odds (& her) to have her in his life? Or would life come in the way of these star-crossed lovers?

.............................................................................................

Wednesday morning started off on a foul note for Jude. The team landed after a red eye flight & below is what he saw at 6:30 am.

Ananya: Heyy. Listen, I am so sorry but I can’t make it tonight. NY office just got back and we have tons more to do. All hands on deck. Will be MIA most of today & tmrw. Hope you put something on your bruises. Take care & see ya soon!

He groaned in frustration. Yesterday had been horrible & he was really looking forward to seeing her tonight. It was his primary motivation to get through the day. But the universe seemed to be conspiring against him.

He stayed in a pissy mood for a bit but sanity prevailed some time later.

Jude: Heyy, it’s fine. Work is work. Go kick some ass. Lemme know if you get done soon ya?

His message remained unseen till 10:30 pm. She hadn’t come online. He knew, since he had checked more than a few times.

He was about to crash when his phone buzzed.

Ananya: Still in office. Will be a long night. How was your day?

He perked up immediately & grabbed his phone.

Jude: Talk for a few mins?

Ananya: In conference room with folks, can’t step out.

Deflated, he fell back on the bed, trying to find a comfortable spot. All he needed was some attention from her tonight. For her to fuss over him like she had done yesterday. But alas.

Jude: Day was ok I guess. Debriefed on the game, lads were being extra nice which was irritating but had a good chat with Boss. How was yours?

Ananya: Hectic, but this deal is so cool it’s blowing my mind.

Jude smiled for the first time today. Her ambition & drive was relatable. Admirable. And so so attractive.

Ananya: Ok gotta go now. Ciao.

And just like that, his smile faded.

Jude: Ciao. Eat something. C ya soon!

He twisted & turned in bed a few times. Finally, exhaustion took over and he drifted off to sleep.

Next day was worse, if that was even possible.

He again woke up irritated. The UK tabloids were going to run a trashy story about him & some girl. His team had been contacted for comments & the decision was to not entertain them at all. The story could drop any time now - that was the heads-up he had gotten.

Great, just what he needed.

The message that he wanted to see was not there. Not a single peep from Ananya. He scrolled through the previous messages, re-reading some. And then he froze.

She was going to see the article too.

Such gossip pieces on him were not uncommon but he mostly ignored them earlier. As did his team.

But this time, it was different. Because of her.

He had to get ahead of the situation.

Jude: Morning dove. I know you are busy. Quick heads up - you may see a tabloid piece today about my ‘girlfriend’. It’s all bull ok? I will explain when we talk.

Burying himself with work seemed like the best solution today. He went extra hard in the gym, pushing himself more, & then some. Letting his irritation be sucked out through sweat and sore muscles.

He was extra feisty in training, didn’t joke around & was super competitive in duels, earning all the applause of the coaching staff and some jeers from his teammates.

Cama and Vini teased him about his new girlfriend who he was apparently smitten by - the article was splashed all over social media by now. He evaded them after engaging in some superficial locker room banter.

Still no reply from her, even though she had seen the first message.

Jude: (Link) - This is what I was referring to. Like I said, it’s bull. How’s your day going?

When the messages were still unread after 2 hours, he started getting jittery. And did something he wouldn’t have done had he been thinking with a clear head.

He called her, knowing fully well she was dying at work today.

The number was unreachable. He tried again. Same message.

The jitters got stronger. Of the zillion things he was capable of doing to mess this up, this shouldn’t have been it.

It was one of those moments when the house looked emptier. Felt lonelier. He missed his home in Birmingham. He wished his mom were here with him.

She had called him earlier today to check on him, & could tell something was off in his voice. She didn’t push, knowing that he wanted to be left to his own devices.

Boy, he could do with her hug right now.

It was 8:30 pm. He had done everything he could for the day. There was nothing else to busy himself with. His friends from the team were all otherwise occupied tonight. He had no other real, normal friends in the city - ones he trusted/liked enough to hang out with.

He didn’t wanna talk to his Birmingham friends either - didn’t wanna bring up the article or the match. Wanted to block those out. Jobe was busy with his training too.

So he gulped his dinner while watching some random episodes of The Great British Bake Off. Something that used to be a family ritual back home.

Still no word from her. It was 10 pm.

It wasn’t fair. He hated feeling this restless. That’s why he stayed away from the complications of attachments - too much fucking drama that he absolutely didn’t need in his life right now. As if the pressures on him weren’t enough already.

His treacherous messed up self didn’t comply with his brain though.

Jude: Don’t overthink this. Talk to me once.

10:30 pm. Still nothing.

He was about to get up from his couch & drag himself to bed, when he saw the blue ticks started coming on her chat. She hadn’t blocked him then?

He grabbed his phone & dialled her number, shoving his pride aside. She picked up in two rings.

‘Heyyyy Judeyyy.’

She slurred on the line. Jude was stunned. Was this for real?

He channelled all his inner calmness - wanting to get the facts first.

‘Ananya - are you drunk?’

‘Siiii. We just downed half a bottle of tequila in three sixty minutes. No thirty-six. I meant thirty-six mins.’

He took a few deep breaths, as she giggled on the line.

‘Tell me where you are. I am picking you up.’

‘I am in a moving car - how will you pick me up from a moving car?’

‘What the fuck do you mean you are in a car? Who are you with? And why the fuck are you drinking in a car?’

He lost his patience despite his best efforts.

‘Yikes why the screaming? Hurting my ears Jude. So rude. Heyyy, that rhymed.’

He nearly pulled out a few of his flawlessly trimmed hair in frustration. When he spoke next, he broke up each word like he was talking to a child.

‘One step at a time yeah? Send me your live location.’

She managed to do that after a few failed attempts. Relief flooded over him when he saw she wasn’t too far from her home & on the right route.

‘Good girl. Now, are you alone, or is someone with you?’

‘I am in a limo. A black limo. Like in the movies. Can you believe it?’

‘That’s great. Not what I asked though. Is someone with you, Ananya?’

‘Roma. But she’s passed out. Wait let me see again? Yup - passed out.’

‘Was it such a smart thing to drink so much that you pass out in the back of a car? When you are alone?’

‘Hey, she passed out. Not me. Pls - my capacity is legendary. Ask me the square root of 1576 & I'll tell you.’

He was amused but had to remind himself that he was still mad.

‘Where were you today?’

Somehow, from her broken sentences, he gathered that the MD of their team lived on the outskirts of Madrid and there was a presentation of the final work at his mansion today. It was his limos that were dropping the team home. And the girls found the tequila in the car & just went for it after the grueling last 48 hours of work.

He also understood that her phone was on airplane mode most of the day. So she hadn’t seen his messages. Hadn’t seen the article either.

Suddenly, there was some commotion on the line.

‘Roma is hitting me to talk to you. Putting you on speaker.’

‘Heyyy lover boyyyy - finally.’

This time he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

‘Well hello to you too.’

‘You should know that you owe me. I convinced Ananya to go to the match. And, most importantly, I convinced her to GO WITH YOU after the match.’

‘Oh, I thought she came because of me. How sad.’

‘A little coz of you. But mostly it was me.’

‘I see. Then I definitely owe you one, Roma.’

‘Remember that when I ask for signed jerseys of the WHOLE TEAM. And Zidane. And of course our one true love Ronaldo.’

‘Ahh you too.’

‘Of course, we share a common love. But Ananya loves him more.’

‘Believe me, I know.’

The car swerved to their street soon after, stopping outside their apartment building.

‘Girls, focus now, ya? - watch your step, go inside, lock the door. Ananya - call me after. I am waiting.’

‘Sir yes sir.’

‘Byeee lover boyyyyy.’

Jude groaned as they hung up - staring at the phone for it to ring again. Praying that they don’t trip & fall on their assess.

The wait was excruciating. He got to his room, changed into his sleeping shorts, paced around, still nothing. How fuckin irresponsible. Finally, after 13 long mins, she called.

‘What took you so long?’

‘Code wasn’t working. Had to call neighbors to buzz us in.’

‘Wasn’t working or you forgot it?’

‘Pretty sure it wasn’t working.’

He shook his head & let it go, understanding how it was a lost cause.

Then he started blurting out some instructions to her like ‘re-check the door’, ‘grab some water’, ‘tell me you ate something before drinking’ etc.

Ananya followed them diligently, and the slurring reduced as the liqueur settled down. Still quite out of it, but he could hear the girl he knew in there.

Knowing she was safe now, his mood improved, and her antics even started looking cute.

‘Facetime?’

It felt like forever since he had seen her last. Held her last.

When he finally laid eyes on her, all his frustration & anxiety of last two days started to evaporate.

‘Hey you.’

She waved back happily, snuggled into her pillow, still in her work clothes. All dopey from the alcohol.

‘If I fall asleep on you tonight, don’t take it personally. Haven’t slept in 2 days.’

‘But you kicked ass though didn’t ya?

Her face brightened, despite the exhaustion.

‘Kinda did.’

‘Knew it. Proud of ya.’

He really was. She could tell. She was starting to learn how to read his bright, expressive, goofy eyes. Tonight, they were deep & sincere. And a little anxious.

‘How’s your mood now?’

20 minutes ago he would have had a very different answer.

‘Now? All fine, dove.’

She was about to tease him, call him cheesy & sickly sweet but he doubled down with his big brown doe eyes.

‘Missed you.’

Again, the sincerity hit her square in her heart. Throwing her off guard. He seemed different tonight. Vulnerable. The trademark blend of cocky flair & casual nonchalance not at the forefront.

‘Missed you too.’

She sighed, as her eyes fluttered shut. Not that she had had much time for any active thought the last few days. But seeing him like this just reminded her how much she was looking forward to meeting him last night.

As she gathered herself, he took in her surroundings. The baby pink pillows amused him the most; somehow he hadn’t associated that with her.

‘Can’t believe this is how I get to see your bedroom. On FaceTime.’

He didn't realize he had said it out loud. She giggled at his groans, batting her eyelashes at him. The vixen.

‘Yeah? What else did you have in mind?’

Jude shifted uncomfortably in the sheets.

‘Don’t tease. Not tonight.’

‘When’s a good time, then?’

‘When I am in touching distance of you, tease away, by all means.’

‘I am not stupid, Jude.’

‘Never thought you were, dove.’

Challenging each other was kind of becoming their thing. Neither liked backing down & both loved the dynamic.

But she was tired. Ready to drop dead anytime.

‘Gimme 2. Need to change out of these.’

‘Cool, I’ll stay here.’

She placed the phone on the bed. Then, on second thoughts, she covered the phone with her blanket. Suddenly, his screen was filled with baby pandas.

‘Seriously? I was facing the ceiling, what was I gonna see?’

‘Don’t trust you & your peripheral vision.’

Jude groaned audibly, facing the disorienting pandas, starting to seriously dislike the otherwise adorable creatures.

He could hear her bouncing around her room, humming something in a foreign tongue, heels clicking on the floor. Still quite buzzed, clearly.

And then, a loud thump.

‘What happened? You ok?’

‘Zipper got stuck in heels. Knocked over a carton. Am fine.’

Jude turned & buried his face in the pillow, trying very hard to drown out the thoughts of what she was doing right now.

He couldn’t afford to let himself wander, since they hadn’t yet discussed the matter at hand.

But it was hard, he nearly bit the pillow to rein himself in.

That’s how she found him when she returned in her tank top. The same one she had on that night, when he kissed her. Great.

‘What’s with you?’

She eyed him curiously, and he recovered quickly, game face back on.

‘Need to talk about something.’

‘Go on.’

Something had shifted in the environment. In him. Putting her on the edge.

Ripping off the band-aid quickly seemed like the best strategy to him.

‘A tabloid piece came out today about me & a girl, saying she is my girlfriend and we have been dating for 2 months. Which is not true. Never dated her. No idea how they came up with this. Wanted to give you a heads-up. Sent you the link in chat earlier today.’

He got it all out quickly. Then zeroed in on her face to gauge her reaction.

Her face had hardened like she was preparing for something unpleasant. Expressions too neutral, too blank for his liking. Almost cold. A more agitated reaction would have been less unsettling.

Ananya had a feeling it was something like this. The shield was up. Plus she was too spent to give any kind of outward reaction.

She replayed his words in her head, and read through the article, while he waited patiently.

Her insta feed was also full of this now. This was everywhere. She found the ID of the woman and clicked on her profile.

‘She is pretty.’

This was not the first thing he had expected to hear. But he had the good sense to know that no response was the best response. Both confirmation and denial would have been scoffed at.

‘You say you didn’t date her, but you do know her, right? Didn’t hear you deny that.’

Her tone was matter-of-fact, business-like. As if she was slicing & dicing a work project.

‘Yes. I do.’

‘Elaborate.’

‘Met her through insta. Liked some pics of each other. Chatted on DM. Then, met in person. Once.’

‘When?’

‘Two months ago.’

So the article had gotten at least something right.

‘Slept with her?’

Both were surprised by her cutting to the chase like this. The alcohol had lowered her inhibitions significantly plus she wasn't in the mood to entertain any nonsense.

‘Yes.’

‘Why only once?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Why not again? She is pretty.’

‘Umm…she is not from here.’

That wasn’t a good answer, he knew it the moment he said it. It wasn’t the complete truth either. But the damage was done.

‘Any exchanges after?’

‘Not from me.’

The unsaid hung heavily in the air. She chose to not address it.

Mindlessly, she kept scrolling through the girl’s profile and the details in the article, not wanting to say anything more immediately. Not wanting to look at him, while his eyes were glued to her face throughout.

Eventually, he couldn’t handle the silence & spoke softly.

‘Remember, this was in the past. Nothing has happened since we met. Nothing will happen.’

The deep baritone was back, trying to lull her into a sense of security.

She smiled wryly. If only it were that simple to believe. If only her mind was not filled with images of him frolicking at his home with this woman, as was so definitively stated in the article.

He felt the chasm widening between them, pulling her further away.

Some core truths, albeit crude, needed to be said out loud now.

‘Ananya - I’ve never lied to you. Never not answered anything you threw my way. Never painted a false picture of my lifestyle. We’ve discussed these encounters before. Yes this put a face to it & I get it’s hard. But that doesn’t change the fact that I was single, and both consenting adults always knew it was just sex, nothing more.’

Her eyes shot up at him at the last line, which he was expecting. But he stood his ground.

‘I can see you are judging me hard, and them too. Look…’

She cut him off sharply.

‘THEM? Who are they to me? Why should I judge women I don’t know anything about?’

‘And me?’

‘YOU? I am TRYING to understand you. Your DECISIONS. It is NOT EASY. Not something I ever imagined dealing with.’

‘I get it.’

He really did. She didn’t hear what he said though, still stuck on his previous words.

‘And THEM? Seriously how many are there? How many such GIRLFRIENDS should I be prepared for?’

He blanked & panicked simultaneously. How was he supposed to answer that? Thankfully, she intervened.

‘You know what? Scratch that. Don’t answer that, I don’t ever wanna know. I don’t care.’

She jerked her face away, trying to compose herself.

But he couldn’t stop staring at her. The usually calm, jovial features a picture of irritation & exhaustion right now. The need to hold her close & comfort her paralyzed him.

‘Can we do this in person? I can be there in 20-25 mins.’

‘NO.’

It was a firm, decisive no. Leaving no scope for discussion. He figured it was also her showing him he wasn’t just gonna get his way with her, that she wasn’t like the others.

But he knew that already. That’s what had fascinated him so about her. She was unlike anyone he had been with before. How he wished she could see that too.

For the first time, the silence between them was not comfortable. Or comforting.

The silence was interrupted by constant pings on her phone - two calls followed by a few messages. He saw her eyes go wide as she focused on the screen.

It was 12 am. Jude had a sinking feeling who it could be from. Last two days, he had really behaved himself. Despite knowing she would have spent every waking minute at work around that insufferable colleague of hers. Sticking to her like a leech. Pinging her at odd times.

But, in a grand display of restraint, Jude hadn't uttered a word to her. It was her work after all.

‘Jude I’m gonna need two mins.’

She muttered urgently, getting up from the bed.

‘I will stay online if that’s ok.’

‘Fine.’

She was already out the door, leaving the phone, leaving him behind.

Jude found himself facing the ceiling of her room again. Seriously, what the fuck just happened? Could this day get any more rotten?

She returned in a minute. He could hear her but not see her yet. Bile rose in his throat when he realised who she was talking to.

‘Hey Arjun, yes I found it. It’s with me now. Thank you so much for letting me know, this could have gone anywhere. You are a lifesaver.’

A pause for a few seconds, in which Jude plotted getting that cockroach permanently banned from the Bernabeu (Ananya had mentioned how big a fan he was), and then her voice again. Filled with genuine gratitude. Jude wanted to puke.

‘Yeah all good, thanks again. Good night, see you tmrw.’

If her intent was to hurt Jude, then someone should hand her the Balon d’or immediately.

Ananya hung up, came back to the bed, and realized her phone was not on mute. She couldn’t find it in herself to care though, not right now.

‘All ok?’

Jude would have put monks to shame at the evenness he was able to muster in his voice.

‘Roma was drunk-texting on our work group. Some questionable stuff. Hv deleted the texts, will keep her phone tonight. Glad Arjun alerted me.’

And just like that, evenness went out the window. Replaced with sarcasm, laced with disdain.

‘How sweet of him, what a gentleman.’

Ananya turned the full force of her glare at Jude, which he met head on. Fire dancing in both their eyes.

‘Would you GROW UP? Not everything is about you. And yes, he IS a gentleman. Your petulance will not change that.’

‘A FUCKIN TWAT is what he is. Always interrupting us. Always trying to cozy up to you. Even when he doesn’t have a shot. Classic small-dick energy. Quite fuckin LITERALLY in his case.’

Ananya could punch him through the screen. The insufferable, entitled, derisive prick that he was being. So full of himself. He needed to be put in his place.

‘Yeah? Maybe I should verify that.’

The bodyblow landed as intended. Making him double over with pain.

Jude felt like someone had kicked him in the gut and in the nuts at the same time. His throat went dry and his hands turned clammy.

The numbness hitting his brain, then his body. The rage dissipated & he realised he didn’t have a leg to stand on, given how they had gotten here tonight.

Plus she would never do the thing she hates the most. She would never cheat, he was convinced.

His tone went down several notches, as did his attitude.

‘I know you are angry. I know you didn’t mean it.’

‘Oh no - I really do want..’

‘ANANYA PLEASE. Please. Slap me if you want to, smack me all that you like but NOT THIS. Please.’

The distress in his choked voice made her stop. Knocking the fight out of her.

Her voice lost its edge, coming out in a whisper.

‘A hypothetical scenario broke you. Whereas….you…..you have actually..’

She didn’t finish the sentence. But the message was well understood.

‘I know it’s unfair. Even hypocritical of me. But I can’t help it. Can’t handle even the idea of you with anyone else. I want all of you. All for me. All the time. I’d go nuts otherwise I swear.’

This moment, she saw a young, sensitive, insecure boy in Jude, not the mature, articulate, sorted, in-control grown man known to the world.

She found it strangely healing; a distinct warmth seeping into her skin and settling into the pit of her stomach.

It was 12:30. Two emotionally charged hours they had spent on the phone. Dead tired from work. Yet, the idea of hanging up & calling it a night never occurred to either.

Just then, her doorbell rang, making her jump.

‘Don’t be alarmed. Answer it.’

She eyed him curiously, checking his background again. He was still in his bed.

‘What did you do now?’

‘Answer the door & you’ll see.’

Huffing, she got out of bed & walked out. Leaving him facing the ceiling again. Third time that night.

When she came back, he finally saw a ghost of a smile on her lips. And the light returned to her gorgeous soft eyes.

She was still gazing at the bouquet, stroking & smelling with contentment.

‘White Tulips for dove. Thought it’d be fitting.’

‘Jude.’

She sighed deeply, and buried her head in the flowers, letting the strong scent drown her senses.

This was never going to be easy, she knew that from the start. But every time she got wobbly, he steadied her. Every time doubts pulled her away, he clawed his way back to her. Lack of effort was definitely not something she could hold against him.

Maybe he means what he says. Maybe it is different for him this time.

She turned to look at his smiling face, still leaning on the flowers.

‘How did you even find these in the middle of the night?’

‘To be fair I ordered them in the evening, when I thought you blocked me.’

‘Blocked you?’

He just shrugged in response. Slightly embarrassed but trying to not show it.

She laughed at the absurdity of it all, and he finally let go too, letting himself relax. The sound of his little giggles bounced on her ears, doing things to her.

‘You are such a loon.’

‘Wanna be your loon.’

She was starting to melt now and wanted to arrest the fall. So she switched gears.

‘Tell me - what was the plan if I had blocked you?’

There had to be a plan. He wasn’t the kind to take things lying down.

‘Cheesecake & churros from our cafe tmrw morning. Along with a letter stating how a 20-year-old boy has the same psychological maturity as a 15-year-old girl. Therefore you should cut me some slack given women are far smarter biologically and also coz you are you. I’m not saying it, science is. Facts.’

‘Reallyyyyy? So a 20 yr old boy lacks psychological maturity, but somehow that’s not a problem when he fucks half the world with impunity? What does science say about that? No disadvantage there?’

Jude’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, still trying to process how his attempted humour had backfired in about 50,000 ways.

To his credit, he recovered fast.

‘See? A smart person would not have walked into that hole like I did. Exhibit A of how dumb I am. This just proves my point.’

‘How come the world fawns over your intelligence & maturity then?

‘They don’t know me. It’s a scam. Trent says I should still be in diapers. He said that to Jobe once & the little scoundrel agreed.'

He had done it again. Pacified her without her even realising. Yeah, she wasn’t buying the dumb act. This boy knew his power & used it unabashedly, to his full advantage.

It was 1 am. She yawned while checking the time & Jude suddenly got hit by pangs of guilt.

He would let her go soon, just needed to hear one thing.

‘We ok?

He barely blinked till she responded.

‘I guess so.’

She shrugged, realising she wasn’t mad anymore.

He figured that’s the best he would get tonight. But soon, when they are together, he’ll make up for this mess.

It was time to let her get some well deserved rest.

Jude leaned in, eyes firmly locked into hers, and kissed his phone screen. He had never done that for another girl before. But this one, she made him do this twice in a span of 2 days.

She followed his movement closely, meeting his gaze. Somehow feeling his lips brush her skin.

‘End my misery and meet me soon?’

She nodded, and he flashed her a trademark ear-to-ear Jude smile. Crinkling eyes n all. Making her heart leap in her chest.

‘Now go, get some rest. And since you won’t let me come over, hug the flowers instead when you sleep tonight. You’ll feel me around.’

‘Bye Jude.’

‘Bye dove.’

Goes without saying, she did hug the flowers as she slept that night.

...............................................................................................

This chapter was very different in my head when I posted the previous one. But then, stuff happened the last few days & I felt like writing about it.

As always, would love to hear your thoughts / comments / feedback. Hope you are liking the story & these two, lots more to come :)

#real madrid #jude bellingham #bellingham #bellingham x reader #jude fanfic #jude #jb5 #jb #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham smut #desi girl

153 notes · View notes

tvchi · 3 days ago

Text

The Rhythm of You

Disclaimers: DO NOT COPY OR REPOST MY WORK. DO NOT TRAIN AI WITH MY WORK.

Warnings: Mature Audiences ONLY: Minors DNI- Profanity, Use of the N word. Pairing: black male x black female Words: 5,419k

A/N: Hey yall hey. Happy Holidays and a Very Happy New Year to you all. I've been gone for a minute, and now I'm back with the jump off/goons in the club case--- my fault; let me get serious. During the holiday season, I took some intentional time off to be present with family and get some much needed rest. I've been enjoying so many other fanfics, liking and reblogging them for your viewing pleasure, so please check them out. When I got back, work just steamrolled me, and then I found myself reminiscing about the past with friends and fantasizing about this new fic. It just wouldn't leave me alone and I found myself disengaging from Terry's drama to look into an unexpected chapter in Aldis' life (lol). I will be writing part 4 of Veiled Intentions soon don't worry!

Summary: Aldis has been working really hard and had finally finished Season 1 of Cross. I had been a grueling 10 months filming this role and getting into character. Now, he can finally decompress and return to the one thing that means the world to him, his baby girl. Everything was all figured out until he met someone unexpected, someone alluring, someone who will add a much needed song to the soundtrack of his life.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------- Delicate golden embers arose from the stringed lights hung all over the ceiling. Their glow illuminated the bodies that swayed underneath. The sounds of the speakers blaring the Top 40 hits now transitioned to R&B. The calm electricity throughout the room brought a warm buzz to my chest. It was a sight to behold. Everyone I had grown close to over the past couple of years gathered under this two-story NY loft to celebrate the significant milestone. It made me smile.

I usually enjoy the wrap of all of my work. It gives me time to pause, decompress, reflect on the journey, make a little time to note what I could have done better, and dig deep inside myself to practice the celebration of all of the things I had done right. Taking on this role was a huge undertaking, but I got it right. Really right. I was already getting calls offering me other roles in other limited series. I even got offered a chance to make my directorial debut on a project that I’ve had my eye on for a while.

Knocking back another swig of my drink. I couldn’t help smiling at the thought of going home and hugging my daughter tight. It was a wrap ritual for me. Ever since she was born, I’ve been obsessed with the little extension of myself. The way she looked up at me, face pressed tightly against my chest, asking me all kinds of questions and clinging to every answer. I thought I knew love until I held her.

I downed the last of my drink and started saying my goodbyes. It wasn’t until I had hugged the last person that I heard the commotion coming from the dancefloor. They were playing some song featuring Kehlani, the only voice I recognized at the moment, and it was smooth. Curious, I let my feet guide me to the edge of the formed crowd. I stepped in closer, and that is when I saw …her.

Her skin was a toffee brown, and under the streams of warm light, she glowed. The second thing I noticed was how she seemed to glide around the enclosed circle she maneuvered around. It was almost as if her feet weren’t even hitting the floor. Where her feet went, her hips trailed behind, snaking around, causing her ass to tick and shake precisely as the percussion dropped. She was in perfect sync with the beat. There came a point where she switched her movements to emulate the rhythm of the words the artists’ crooned. She turned around to where I was standing, body still enthralled by the trance of the song, and started mouthing the words.

The way she moved her hands to trace the outline of her hills and valleys enticed something in my carnal nature. My eyes wouldn’t move from her. Her eyes fluttered open and closed, influenced by the song's sentiment. If she were the premise of the music video, this song would win so many awards. I continued watching her intently, and then she suddenly peered up at me, still mouthing the words of the song and moving those perfectly sculpted hips and thighs. She snaked to the right and folded over, allowing the right side of the room a full view of a plump, round ass and the rest of us a delectable side view. Her eyes never left me. It was almost like she was daring me to make my way over to her and dance with her. My feet remained planted where they were, and I just stared, wondering how she would look doing this routine in my bedroom— on my dick.

My thoughts were interrupted by my castmate and newfound brother, Isaiah, coming up to my right. “Incredible,” he said, practically moaning.

“Who is she?”

“I don’t even know. The little intel I was able to pick up from some of the cast mates who were familiar with her was that she’s a choreographer or dancer or something. She came as a plus on.”

The DJ continued to egg her on while transitioning to ‘Can I’ by Kehlani. She started another routine that didn’t seem routine at all. Isaiah and I kept our eyes glued to her every movement. Again, she seemed entranced by the rhythm of the song. She looked like she was… home.

After the song went off and the DJ transitioned to another song, she straightened up and peered around at the small crowd cheering for her. She blushed, waved a vote of thanks, and whispered something to Golden Madison, another of our castmates. I'm not sure how or why, but my feet started moving toward the pair. I could sense that Isaiah wasn’t far behind.

“No, girl, you can’t leave now. You are literally the life of the party, and the night is young!” I overheard Golden saying.

“I agreed to be your plus one on one of my sacred days off to congratulate you and love on you. It’s almost 2 am; I think I’ve done my fair share of ‘plus-oneing’. I need to get to my bed,” the mystery girl said playfully.

“Please, we’ll leave in like another hour or so. I promise,” Golden begged.

“Girl! I have errands to run and other things to do tomorrow. I have to go, but I love you deep! I’m so proud of you!” the girl kissed. Golden pouted and noticed Izzy and I standing there.

“Hey yall,” Golden squeaked. Her friend turned around to see who Golden was speaking to, and our eyes locked for the second time tonight.

“Hey, Goldie,” I said.

“I thought you left already. I know you don’t stay out late much,” she stated.

“Yea, I was on my way out, and then I heard all the commotion coming from the dancefloor and thought I’d see what was going on,” I replied.

“And there was a lot going on,” Izzy chimed, staring suggestively at the girl we both couldn’t take our eyes off of.

“My girl is and has ALWAYS been the truth!”

“Does your girl have a name?”

“Yea, you not gonna introduce us? Rude!”

“Shut up, Izzy. Aldis, Izzy, this is my best friend Amara. Amara, these clowns are the co-stars of the Alex Cross, Alex and Izzy,”

“It’s nice to meet you both,” she shook our hands. Hers were so soft, and her handshake was firm. I held her hand a little longer than customary before letting her go. The absence of the warmth of her hand when I let go of her instantly felt unnatural. Wrong even.

“Goldie, I gotta go. Love you,” Amara said, turning toward Goldie

“Ugh, you’re being so lame!” Goldie let out in frustration.

The DJ started playing ‘Hot’ by Efosa. I watched her close her eyes in loathing. She turned to Goldie and said, “This is my damn song, and I feel like you told him to play this!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Goldie said, feigning innocence. “If you going then, go!”

Amara lets out a long sigh. The next thing I knew, my right hand was in hers, and she was leading me back onto the dancefloor. She laid it on me. Her hips moved left and right. She planted her ass directly where my dick laid dormant until — now. Looking at the view of her sculpted, exposed lower back up close while she practically whined on my member was mesmerizing. Her hips rotated clockwise then, suddenly with the change of the synths, counterclockwise like she pressed rewind on her previous movement.

She was a force, and I desperately tried to keep up with her while taking her all in. I was pretty sure pre-cum was leaking all in my boxers as I watched her ass ripple up and down as I collided with her. I needed to make her mine, to have the pleasure of being inside her, to learn every twist and turn of that body. By the end of the song, I didn’t care that she was feeling how hard I was at this point. This was all her doing. At the final climax of the song, she threw her head back and tilted to the left to look back at me as she wiggled her ass at warped speed to match the beat. I was gone.

She owned me, and she knew it. When the DJ transitioned, she gave a final bump to my third leg with her ass and rose to her full height. She walked to Goldie and hugged her, followed by a kiss on her cheek. My feet were still planted where they were, missing her warmth and showcasing a hefty hard-on. While walking towards the exit, she glanced at me and flashed a knowing smile. Then she was gone.

“Daaaaaaaaamn, bruh. She left and put the $200 on the dresser, cuz the way she was handling you back there, you definitely got fuck,” he said laughing. He was right, and there was nothing I could do about it. I should’ve ran after her and asked for her information but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I just felt.

————————————————————————-

“Hey baby, what you doing?” Looking at my greatest accomplishment with pride and joy. According to her teachers, she’s ahead of the class in all her subjects. They’ve been testing her to see whether she can skip classes. It was fascinating watching her in her element.

“I’m building a house,” she answered curtly, zipping around to find another piece to glue on. One thing I loved about babygirl was the fact that she did her own thing. It didn’t bother her that the other girls her age were more preoccupied with tea parties and painting their nails. She liked those things, too, but she also loved working with her hands and playing basketball with the other boys in the neighborhood.

She didn’t let the other kids push her around either. You never knew what you were going to get with her. One day, she demanded to go to school in her “princess gown,” the next day, she would wear a snapback, jeans, and the pair of Jays we got together. Her mom thought she sometimes dressed like me when she missed me the most. That was another subject… her mom.

“Ok, well, I want my room facing the backyard. I don’t wanna hear all that noise from the street. Oh, and make sure you hook me up, too. I want a big-screen TV in there.”

“Imma do your room last cause you ain't say ‘please’! That's rude, Daddy.”

I chuckled. “That’s fair, babygirl. That’s fair. My bad. Please and thank you.”

“Mhmm. Now that your movie is done, how long you staying this time?”

“I’m going be here until I get another role that I wanna do, then it’s the usual. I take the meetings and talk to some people, and if they like me, they’ll tell me when I start.”

“They always like you, Daddy. You’re the best!”

I beamed. “Thank you, baby girl. That means a lot coming from you. They can give me all the awards they want to, but–”

“But if you don’t get one from me, then nothing matters. I know, Daddy. You say that every time.” She smiled, and half rolled her eyes.

“That’s because I mean it!” I exclaimed, tapping her nose with my index finger.

“I know.”

“So now that you got me all to yourself for a while, what you wanna do?”

“Well, Imma finish the house, then maybe later you can make me a burger cause imma be hungry. After that, we can go to the movies. After that, maybe we can go to a basketball game. Eric said ain't no way I’m going to the Knicks game. I told him that my daddy takes me when he’s home, and he called me a liar. So we gotta go to the Knicks game so I can see Karl-Anthony, then we gotta take pictures so he can shut up. After that, I wanna go to the skating rink because Tina and Tasha said we gotta get good by the summer so we can skate outside. Then after that—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I see you got a lot of plans. Tell you what, for today, I’ll leave you to your house and get the burgers ready. We’ll go to the movies later on tonight. Tomorrow, we can go to Home Depot and get some lights and other stuff to hook your house up. How’s that sound?”

“YAAAAAAAY!!! Daddy, how you know I wanted to put some lights in here?!?!”

“Cause you been on the computer watching YouTube videos of mini houses and how to put lights up,” I replied with a smirk.

“You can see that?”

“I can see everything, babygirl. Remember that.” I finished, giving her a peck on the forehead, and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

I worked quickly, seasoning the ground turkey and forming the patties. They were ready in no time. While working on the last batch of seasoned fries, my phone rang.

“Nigga, whatchu doing?” Isaiah blurted.

“Me and babygirl finna eat these burgers. What’s good?” I declared, gazing proudly at the meal I drummed up.

“Oh, so you back? Good,” he asked, referring to my choice to stay another week in LA to decompress before flying back to New York.

“Yea I got back in yesterday.”

“Yea, well, remember lil mama from the wrap party?”

“Who?”

“Nigga, the one you was drooling over. Don’t play like you don’t know who I’m talking about.”

I laughed sheepishly. I couldn’t forget her if I tried. “Whatever. Wussup?”

“Uh huh, anyway, I saw her at one of the studios on Kingston Ave in the Heights.” I marveled at how your friend, who was anxious about riding the subway just last month when he first got here, is rattling off streets in Brooklyn like a pro even though he lives in Harlem. I loved how he was getting comfortable in a place that would always be home.

“And what were you doing in Brooklyn?” I asked curiously.

“Never you mind what I was doing in Brooklyn. Did you hear what I said? Your girl is dancing her fine ass up and down Brooklyn with some brown-skinned Dominican muthafucka! You talmbout ‘what you doing in Brooklyn’? Anyway, I just texted you the address to the dance studio. Make your way over there.”

“Uh huh, leave that Zina girl alone, nigga. You’re married. I ain't gon’ tell you bout that shit no more. Tighten up!” I snapped.

As much as I loved having Isaiah in my city, bending blocks, booking gigs, and getting closer, he’s been losing his way. I’ve always looked up to him in more ways than one. He held so much knowledge and experience. Lately, I’ve noticed him putting off his responsibilities to his house and home. Especially when it came to Zina, a 39-year-old creative director of Epic Records who worked closely with us on the soundtrack of Cross.

She lived in Brooklyn and returned home 2 weeks before we wrapped. Isaiah was supposed to go home and spend time with his wife and two kids. Instead, he bought a brownstone in Harlem and moved some of his things out here. I pressed him about his sudden decision, and he said that he needed some time to think and that Lisa agreed. I knew there was more to the story, but I didn’t press him.

I introduced him to some of my friends and showed him around so that he would get more acclimated. Sometime later, I heard he was running up to Brooklyn to see some girl. I started putting two and two together. When I finally confronted him, he fell silent and told me to let him straighten his shit out, and he would let me do the same with mine. I left him knowing that I disapproved and that if I was asked, I wouldn’t lie to him. Now, I see none of my words struck a chord with him.

“Yea whatever, nigga. Get to that studio.” he said and hung up. I pondered what would be the reason for me to barge into a dance studio with my size and build. I did not want to make it obvious that I was there for her but I needed to see her. I wasn’t sure why.

After getting babygirl fed, we headed to the movies. Wicked was a dope movie. Babygirl and I discussed the different themes and lessons she picked up in the film. This girl was so bright and full of life. I couldn’t believe how perfect she was. Blessed and proud, I couldn’t even begin to cover it. Next morning, we did our morning routine of hygiene, outfit choices, breakfast, and affirmations, and I dropped babygirl off at school.

“Aye, man, you the guy from Underground, right?” I heard a voice say as I entered one of my favorite coffee shops. I turned around to face him.

“Yea, man. How you doing?”

“Oh man, my girl gon flip. She loves you. You dope or whatever. Can I get a pic witchu?”

“Yea man, C’mon”

We took a couple of pictures, and I dapped him up. I told him about Cross, and he said he would spread the word. I reached the counter to order my favorite drink, and my favorite barista was there.

“Oh, shit, everybody. My favorite actor after Denzel is here!” Assata shouted.

“Here you go! You gotta do that every time I come up here? You know I’m tryna be incognegro” I responded, feigning annoyance.

“Shut up. You love my announcements, and I love doing ‘em”

“Whatever, ya pops and Man man here. I wanted to say wussup to them real quick before I start a little bit of work.”

“Al, you just finished working. When you gonna take a minute to breathe? Enjoy that little girl before you jet off.”

“First of all, you in my business. Second, babygirl says ‘hey’ and that the last time she came in here and got a hot chocolate Man Man made it too hot, and she burned her tongue. So I’m here to beat his ass. Next, I did take time to decompress but I got a baby now and like everybody else, I’m tryna make sure everybody eats. Lastly, go get ya Pops!”

“Mhmm. You ain’t gotta jump down my throat. I’m just saying that you can take more than a week and some change to relax and enjoy your accomplishments,” she said, making her way to the back room.

A second later, Pops, aka Mr. Johnson, came from behind. As far as I was concerned, he was part of the family. My family had been coming to his coffee shop and bakery since I was a kid. He looked out for me when my own father was busy working three jobs, and when we didn’t have what we needed for school, he looked out in every way possible. Every time I’m home, I make sure I see him and see if he needs anything. He always declines my help, but I always end up getting my way.

We spoke for a while about what was going on in the neighborhood and how he kept getting incessant calls trying to get him to sell his property. I knew from how he spoke about the neighborhood and this shop that he would never sell. He wasn't going anywhere if I had anything to do with it. He was one of the few black businesses left in the neighborhood and probably the only one that wasn’t drowning in massive debt. I saw to that.

After an hour or so, I excused myself and headed to one of the tables across from the window to start looking at a list of upcoming films and shows that have been greenlit and looking to cast. Then, I took a couple of meetings and started finishing up some work I had been putting off for my side projects. Everybody knows I keep a job. I was always working. At first, it started out as a way to get out of debt and make sure that I was never homeless or destitute again. Then, I kept going because I feared that everything I had could be taken from me at any moment, and I needed something. Then I started making excuses about why I couldn’t sit still. That reminded me I had to check in with my guy Mark for our therapy session I had to reschedule.

When that was completed, I googled the address Isaiah sent me. Google maps street view allowed me to see the inside and outside of the building. It was definitely of a modern design. It also looked like it doubled as a community center for the youth. Going down a rabbit hole, I learned about the studio's founder and watched a couple of interviews about the community center and why it was founded. Then she appeared.

Amara Omena talked about how the center was a refuge for her to explore her talent as a dancer when her parents admonished and banished her from their home when she stood firm in her decision to pursue dancing full-time instead of becoming an engineer. I was transfixed as she spoke and couldn’t peel my eyes from hers. I also wondered what kind of people would force their kids out in the cold because they wanted to go for their dreams.

I thought to babygirl, and how I would be over the moon if she told me that she wanted to dance or be a plumber… shit, she could tell me that she wanted to sell her collection of rocks, and I would find a way for her to make that happen. My heart felt for Amara in more ways than one. Before I knew what was happening, I was on the phone with the center's founder and told them I would be there on Monday. I discussed a couple of other things with them and hung up.

The weekend came and went and babygirl and I went everywhere she could possibly think to go. I even went back to the coffee shop and play-fought Man Man for making babygirl’s hot chocolate too hot. I threatened to whoop his ass again if he burned my baby. Babygirl got a kick outta that. I dropped her off at her mom’s house, hopped on the A express, got off at Hoyt-Schermerhorn, then got on the C and rode that down to Crown and Utica station. As I walked to Kingston Ave, I took in the sights.

There were some new establishments, but I was glad to see that some of the old ones I grew up with were still there. I made a mental note to take babygirl to the Brooklyn Museum. Finally, I arrived at the Kingston Community Center and went inside. I signed in at the front desk and asked the receptionist where I could sit while I waited for Dr. Simmons to meet me.

“I know you, baby. You don’t need to sign in. I already told Dr. Simmons that you were here when I saw you walking up, witcho fine ass. She’s coming down,” the receptionist said, winking at me. I chuckled.

“Thank you ma’am”

“Anything for you, baby. My name is Linda Brentwell, but everybody calls me Ms. Lee. You single?” she asked. I choked, caught off guard. This woman was firmly in her 60s and flirting with me unabashedly.

“That’s enough, Ms. Lee. Thank you,” a voice said from behind her. “Hell,o Mr. Hodge, I’m Dr. Simmons. We spoke over the phone.”

I shook her hand. “Nice to meet yo,u Dr. Simmons”

“Follow me. The kids are down the hall,” she announced.

She told me how grateful she was to receive a call from me and how much it would mean to the kids. She gave me a working itinerary of how the day would go. I spoke with the kids first, signing autographs. They’d watch an episode of Underground, and then I would get a tour of the facility. I chopped it up with the kids and had a blast. I knew babygirl was a riot, but these kids were talented and full of life. They came from all kinds of bullshit out there, and despite everything, they found some semblance of hope and peace at the center.

Its establishments like these mean everything to the community. I made a mental note of everything the kids said about the place and assured them this wouldn’t be the last they saw of me. I took a picture with each of them and then gave them autographs. I’ll tell my assistant to check in with the center and give the kids goodie bags.

A teen named Keith waited for me by the door to give me a tour of the center. I chopped it up with him as we walked around the building. I asked him to deviate from the routine and to show me the dance studio last. He mentioned how a generous donor, a contact from one of the instructors of the dance studio, helped remodel the building, which gave them a lot of space. It was about 6:30pm when we finally made it to the dance studio.

It was on the 4th floor and bathed in a soft, amber sunset that filtered through the tall windows, casting elongated shadows on the polished wooden floor. The air was thick with the scent of fresh wood and a hint of sweat, the lingering evidence of hours of movement—the walls lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors. A single barre ran the length of one side, worn smooth by countless hands. At the far end, a stereo system hummed, its speakers poised like silent sentinels.

A bin was riddled with worn ballet shoes, jazz heels, and some tap shoes. Gym bags and jacks piled next to the cubbies found next to the door. The loud thud of landing jumps and shifting feet quickly hit your ears when you opened the door. I looked around until I spotted her. Her hips swayed and shifted to the beat, the familiar sight melting my resolve. The choreographer’s next formation led her to the front, where she twirled, leaped in the air, and landed in a split.

“Damn,” is all that escaped me as I watched her pop her ass in the split and look directly into the mirror. She knew exactly what she was doing, making me wonder what else she knew. “I know. Amara is cold. You see all the dudes we passed getting to the door?” “Yea” “They here to watch her. Every time. They stay on her body,” he said. “Is that right?” “On God.”

That bit of information only strengthened my resolve to make sure that I was the only one “on her body,” as he put it.

“Class. We have a special guest with us today. Everyone say ‘Hello’ to Mr. Aldis Hodge, actor, philanthropist, artist, and watchmaker,” she finished as everyone clapped. I gestured my vote of thanks for their warm welcome.

“Thank you so much for your warm welcome. Wait, hold up. How did you know I made watches and painted them? Let me find out if you've been stalkin a brother,” I joked. The room erupted in laughter. I looked at her, and a small smile crept onto her face. “I was given a great tour. Keith did an excellent job, and we stopped by the studio last to see if I could get some time to learn a few moves real quick.”

“We’d be honored to have you. Here, you can partner with one of our finest, Amara.” “Only if it isn’t a bother,” I posited, looking at her. “No. Not at all,” she said softly. “Alright, y'all all since Mr. Hodge is joining us, we will take it down and practice or choreo to Toni’s ‘You’re Makin’ Me High,’” the instructor, who answered to the name Jamaica, said. She went over the first part of the choreography step by step. It was simple enough, even though I got a couple of chuckles and redirects from Amara. After a couple of individual practices, we all came together and rehearsed them. For someone who only two steps, ya boi was getting it in. I didn’t look out of place. When I got to pull Amara in and dance with her, I felt the same rush I felt two months ago when she took my breath away with the whining of her waist.

Can’t get my mind off you/ Think I might be obsessed/ The very thought of you makes me wanna get undressed/ I wanna be with you in spite of what my heart says/ I guess I want you too bad…

Toni was speaking my exact sentiments through the speakers, which must have shown because once we were done with steps, a round of applause erupted.

“Okay, chemistry!!! Mr. Hodge, how long you gonna be in town because we may need you to perform this with us?” Jamaica asked. Reluctantly I broke eye contact with Amara in order to answer Jamaica. “I can move some things around. Let me know what yall need.” “Oh, don’t tell me that 'cause I’mma hit your line about it too!” “I got you,” I replied, looking back at Amara.

I learned a couple of other things, and by the time the class was over, I had come out of my quarter zip and drenched my beater. I walked over to get a towel.

“Of all the dance studios in Brooklyn, you walk into this one?” I heard a voice beside me say. I removed the towel from my face to look at her. “Aint that something?” She looked at me intently. “You aren’t following me, are you?” “You cute and all, but I don’t need to stalk women to speak to them,” I replied. I lied. She wasn’t cute, she was gorgeous. The way a single bead of sweat curved around her brown slid down her temple and cheek, and curved down her jaw made me want to lick it. While it was a happy coincidence that Isaiah’s cheating ass happened to run into her going into the studio, the rest was all me. I definitely was looking into her and learning all I could about her. She looked at me momentarily, said, “Ok then,” and turned on her heels. I fucked up. I didn’t want to make it seem as though I wasn’t interested at all, but that was the energy it was giving. I had to save the moment.

“But since we are both here and it’s late, is there a place you like to go to grab something to eat?” I asked, hoping this would bring the conversation back to a good place. “The bodega around the corner has bomb sandwiches.” “You wanna walk together?” “You cute and all, but I usually don't go with men places unless I know them.” “So you think I’m cute?” “I think you’re capable of finding a bodega and getting a sandwich.”

I smirked. “You got it. If you change ya mind, that’s where I’ll be headed.” I cleaned myself off, threw on my quarter zip and jacket, and headed down with Keith. After saying goodbye to Keith and the other kids waiting to be picked up, I headed to the bodega she had mentioned. There was a high possibility that I fucked things up back there, but something in me hoped— prayed she would just see it as nerves and come anyway.

When I got to the bodega, I placed my order and got two more orders. I walked around the store and stopped in the back. I pulled out my phone and checked a couple of texts. I got two drinks out of the fridge and returned to the side of the store where they were making the sandwiches. Like clockwork, the store manager came out to inspect the ground. He was orange with long whiskers and a striped tail. If you’re in NY and you don’t see a bodega cat, be suspicious. “Papi, ya order is next," said the Bodega owner. “Thank you.” I went back to check my phone to pass the time. I responded to one email about a potential role and thought about some others. “Three orders? You just knew I was coming, huh!” I heard from behind me. I turned around, and there she stood.

--------------------------------------------------------- Thanks for reading this very elaborate meet-cute and hopefully the start of yet another series that I will finish (lol). I've tagged everyone that I could remember too, but if you're coming across me for the first time and want to be tagged in this fic or any others, please comment and let me know you wanna be tagged!

Tags: @thecapodomme @writers-of-tmblr @melaninpov @spaceslutsworld @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @mymusicbias @the-black-label @master-builder42 @miraculously-dumb-bitch @megamindsecretlair @hopefulromantic1 @tranquilfandomer @thadelightfulone @vivalaorgasm @hotgrlcece @planetblaque @blackgurlnhermoods @andriaharris @theblacklewinsky @kumkaniudaku @lovelyflames @girlbeblogging @toiadeenovels @longpause-awkwardsmile @sweettea-and-honeybutter @sirenmouths @almostelectroniccheesecake @liquorlaughslove @meleekabenjamin @19jammmy @thoseprettywords @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @stellarxfresh @noirelyfe @moooonluvr @kinginwithbreezy-blog @bunniibooooo @sk1121-blog1 @luckydaye777 @hgabdakhtui @ovohanna24 @bratattack209 @greantii @rue0224 @jazziejax @whatdreamsaremadeofbitch @absentmindeddreamer @soft-persephone @dragonfly1207 @strawberrymoon45 @kxngkaykay @nayaesworld @uzumaki-rebellion @wolfiediaries @off-pink @zoey101-2 As always, let me know what you think about this fic. Comment, Reblog, Like, Tell A Friend!

23 notes · View notes

chiriwritesstuff · 11 months ago

Note

i stumbled upon those meet cute nyc tik toks where the guy asks random couples on the street how they met

PICTURE THIS:

Joel and Sugar walking around NY together maybe after some conference that they went to together. He’s got his protective hand on her lower back as she’s chatting away about some random interaction with a squirrel she had while waiting for him when he was in the toilet.

They get stopped by the guy and he’s like are you a couple and before she even processes the question Joel’s proudly proclaims” Yes, yes we are” and proceeds to tell their story (skipping the more nsfw stuff). Readers a bit camera shy but butts in every once in a while to correct him jokingly.

I just see Joel going like “this one did this” or “this one here had no idea what she was getting into” as you playfully pat his chest. I see this happening a few years after marriage so they do a shout-out to all the kids.

*bonus* the internet goes crazy for them in the comments.

*bonus two* it does the rounds a bit around sugars parents club and they get this glimpse into the life they’re no longer a part of (fuck them)

OH NONNIE. I love that TikTok account! I could totally see this happening with Joel and Sugar in the future, so let's flash forward a few years...

Meet Cute NYC - Joel and Sugar, from Austin, Texas

(Also, I had a BALL laughing at the thing with the squirrel and Joel being on the toilet!)

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.3k

"… and then I asked its name, and the squirrel quirks its head at me and said, 'Well, I'm Bill!' and I was like, 'OH MY GOD, I know a Bill, and he's one of the best people I know-"

"Wait, Mami. Are you seriously telling me a squirrel introduced itself as Bill? … and all this happened while I was on the toilet?" Joel indulges you, a hearty laugh escaping as you both make your way to Gray's Papaya, Joel's sole request for accompanying you to the IT convention in New York. He guides you towards the wall of a building, noticing a man with a tiny microphone focused on both of you from the corner of his eye. Raising an eyebrow at the stranger, Joel positions you so that your conversation is shielded from prying ears.

"Hey, hey, are you guys a couple?!" The man with the tiny microphone shouts, waving at the both of you, his iPhone pointed forward, eager to capture any response.

Joel stops in his tracks, the hand that was on your lower back circling your waist as he pulls you into his side, a playful smile on his lips. "Yeah, this is my girl right here. Even the squirrels know it."

"Papi!" you squeak, burying your face into his chest. "That's private!"

The man laughs at that, a wide smile forming on his face. "Well, do you mind me asking how the both of you met?!"

"Well," Joel exhales, "Do you have time? because it's a doozy-"

"Oh, it was not-" you cut him off, playfully slapping his chest.

"… as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted by my beautiful wife," he presses a kiss on your forehead, winking. "I actually met her in the mall back in Austin while she was being dragged against her will to go spend time with her mama."

You nod. "This is true."

"She was back home from college. You know, she was getting her Masters," he adds proudly, "… and she was the cutest fucking thing I've ever laid my eyes on. Absolutely fucking beautiful, she took my breath away," he gets a faraway look on his face, his eyes a little misty.

"Anyway, I had met her mother before, because I was gonna fix their roof that she managed to set on fire with an antenna she tried to mount, poor thing didn't realize that there was gonna be a lightning storm, her father was furious with her!"

"He was," you quip, blushing. "The whole side of the roof was just burnt to a crisp!"

"And what did you think of your husband then?"

"Well, I thought he was hot, and thought of myself as shameful, having impure thoughts about him right in the presence of my mother. Thought I should go to hell with him at the gates, waiting for me." You gush, blushing at the memory.

"So how did you guys get together?"

"Well, we met 15 years ago. She was too young for me at that point, and well, I was just getting my business out the door. We didn't see each other for ten years until I saw her mama at the same mall one day, and we got to talking… and my baby needed a job, and I needed an IT specialist… and I thought to myself, fuck, I've been biding my time, I will never get a chance again if I don't take this one, so I told her mama to have her call me. That was five years ago."

"I used to go to these Sunday dinners at my parent's house, and my mama goes on and on about how she's seen Joseph or James at the mall-"

"That's what she called me?!" Joel exclaims, shocked.

"Yeah! So I go and tell her, 'I think his name's-', playing like it wasn't the best thing that's ever come out of her mouth. She told me that the job was basically mine and that I should wear some heels and a skirt to meet him-"

"God, that was the best fucking gift-"

You giggle, holding Joel tighter. "Anyway, I got the job, and apparently, my husband was completely technology inept, didn't know the difference between a printer and a copy machine-"

"Hey!" Joel exclaims, shaking his head and chuckling.

"… and then one night, he emailed me at midnight about some crisis he was having about pop-ups," you laugh, clutching at your middle. "… and while I was fixing his computer at one in the morning, well, I stumbled upon a bucket list of his, and the rest was history."

The host laughs. "What kind of bucket list was it?"

"Oh, well, let's just say-"

"It was one I made with her in mind," Joel cuts you off, blushing. "I figured, these were the things I would do with her if she gave me a chance again, and she did, after confronting me about it."

"I did, and I'm glad that fate connected us one more," you muse. "… because now, we're happily married and are taking our first trip together without our kids, and it's been a blast!"

"Hi Amie, Hi Bruno!" Joel interjects, waving to the camera. "I hope your older sisters are not losing their minds watching you both!" he winces at the camera, knowing damn well that they're probably up to no good. "Sorry Sarah and Ellie, promise to bring you guys back something good!"

"So what brings you guys to New York?"

"Well, my baby here was a speaker at an IT convention, held a panel and everything!" Joel gushes, pushing you forward slightly towards the camera. "I'm just here for the ride, as her proud husband!"

"Oh Papi, stop!" you exclaim, smiling widely. "It was nothing, really."

"Don't sell yourself short like that, baby!" Joel chides, "You fucking killed it, I was so fucking proud of her! She's not one for public speaking, but her panel was sold out! all 200 seats!"

"So what's your favorite thing about one another?"

"I love everything about him," you reply honestly, locking eyes with Joel as he hugs you. "I love how persistent and driven he is, how he takes charge and makes sure that everyone he loves is taken care of."

"I love her soul," Joel smiles back at you, caressing your cheek. "She does these things that might seem weird to people but is the most endearing shit to me. Like just right now, she was having a chat with Bill the squirrel-"

"BABY!" you scream, hiding your face in his chest. "That didn't happen," you mumble into the fabric, clearly embarrassed.

"One last question: Five years married, four kids, what's the secret to a successful marriage?"

"You lose the girl for a bit, make a shit ton of money, become a millionaire, and tell your asshole in-laws to suck a dick!" Joel exclaims, laughing. "Sorry, baby," he adds, putting his arm around your shoulder as he leads you away.

"What's your guys' names?" the host yells after you. Joel turns around once more, smiling into the iPhone.

With a wink, he yells, "Joel and Sugar Miller!"

Comments 10.5K mami94794: OMG GOALS ConnieBaby: YOU GUYS THAT'S MY BOSS! Hit me up, I have all of the tea… Reply (109): GIVE ME THE TEA, GIRL! girldad808: wow 10 years of waiting my god the kitty must be good! S.Miller: DAD??? EllieBellie123: You guys better be getting me something good! Bruno drew something on my ukelele! ohheythere5478734: Damn where can I find me a rich ol daddy out on these streets?!?

Meanwhile, at the Austin County Country Club…

"Have you seen that video that went viral on the news?" your mother's friend says as she sips her Old Fashion, her eyebrows quirked conspiratorily.

"What video?" your mother asks.

"The one of your son-in-law, telling the world for you and your husband to suck a dick," she laughs, giving your mother a smirk. "I'm assuming that's why you didn't know they got hitched in Hawaii all those years ago? How embarrassing is it to be called out by someone on the Fortune 500 list, huh?"

#the girl in it #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #pedro pascal characters #joel x reader #joel miller fic #the last of us hbo #joel miller tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #tlou fic

125 notes · View notes

thehelltingvilleclub · 6 days ago

Text

OKAY OC POSTING

If you don't gimmie your OC lore in the replies I'm gonna take your toes--

Introducing:: May Osewai - Secretary of Manga Theme Songs:: Living Dead Girl - Rob Zombie | She's Out Of Her Mind - blink-182 | FUNERAL GREY - Waterparks Favorite Shit:: Anime Adaptations, Visual novels, Horror / Guro, Battle Royale(s), Monster Movies, Slasher Flicks, Acrylic Stands, Hard Covers, Asian horror, Foreign Films, Evangelion : Neon Genesis, Ghost in the Shell, Corpse Party, Torrent Sites, X-Men, Spawn, Teen Titans, Accurate Translations, Uncensored Doujins, Silent Hill, Serial Experiments : Lain

Japanese Native, although only half japanese, who moved to the suburbs of NY with her father while she was still in middle school. Outwardly, you'd think she wouldn't belong in the Eltingville Club (Aside from.. Girl--) She's quiet, generally keeps to herself.. UNTIL You try to mention anything related to Manga, Mythology Monsters, or Movies, ESPECIALLY foreign movies. A toxic fan just like the rest of them, she belittles "improper" American remakes, English Dub IS for posers, and she will die on the hill that Evangelion is an under rated masterpiece and that nobody actually understands the ending. If she saw how people interpret Serial Experiments: Lain in this day and age of the internet she would actually have a stroke. She became friends with the boys through Pete, though she attended school with all of them throughout their teens. One of her many nicknames was "Sadako", (and yes she would absolutely yell at you if you tried to call her "Samara" instead) due to her generally dead-tired expression and her hair, which used to be significantly longer when she was a kid, to the point that it eventually became her AOL handle (sadako_chan) as a joke to herself. She lives with just her dad, her mom having passed away before they moved to Eltingville, and according to him, Mr. Osewai wanted to try and find her a "less hectic" environment than a tiny Tokyo Apartment. Suffering from the curse of gifted kid burnout and also an only child, she extra didn't have anybody to build social skills with when she was young, so her outlets were manga and cartoons which turned into movies as she got older. She also will randomly blurt out facts she knows about franchises/films she is watching when she is with others (and.. honestly she does it even when she's by herself like a goof), but will get PISSED if people are talking during a scene she likes or something she deems "important to the plot". She also loves to rewatch movies, but gets frustrated when people don't notice or understand things the first time they watch something. She owns dozens, if not nearly a hundred different figures from various franchises, Western or Japanese, including the entire Teen Titans roster as poseable figmas that are practically her prized possession-- That's reserved for her signed poster for the original Battle Royale and her art book for corpse party. She is a bit of a gore weirdo, there's a reason she gets along with Pete after all, so don't be shocked if she starts going off about some random underground 4Chan shit like Metamorphosis on steroids.

Her birthday is September 9th, she thinks Mecha-Fans are a bunch of man-babies that couldn't decide if they wanted to be or fuck Optimus Prime, and absolutely will roundhouse kick you in the shins if you try to use her as an armrest.

Also, some of her favorite game franchises include: Resident Evil/Biohazard, Final Fantasy, Xenoblade, Silent Hill (Yes, even The Room), Mortal Kombat, Corpse Party (obviously), RPG Horror Games, and Legend of Zelda Majora's Mask to name a few. Oh, and the Lego Star Wars and Lego Batman games, but those are guilty pleasures she'll never admit to unless someone offered to play it with her--

#eltingville oc #eltingville fanart #the eltingville club #welcome to eltingville #may osewai #my art #ask me about my ocs #my ocs #give me your ocs #let me obsess over them all #please i beg you gimmie gimmie #I have so many things to say about her #im so sorry evan dorkin #im sorry if this makes no sense #Have Mayumi lore wordvom #Thank you all so much for letting me infodump omg

24 notes · View notes

strniohoeee · 1 year ago

Text

Racketeer Pt. 3

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N hates Chris hoodrat lifestyle, but when something goes wrong she’s ready to protect her man👥 Okay this is part 3 of a series I just made for shits and giggles for my best friend, but the fact that so many people like it is shocking and also amazing!!! Love this for us, I’m a hoe for hoodrat Chris even though I’m a Matt girl🧎🏽‍♀️

Warnings⚠️: uhh d*ath threats, Chris with a pewpew, pistol whipping, and uhhh I think that’s all…hope you enjoy 🖤

Song for the imagine: 308-22Gz (this is pure hoodrat NY trap music I LOVE IT)

When we spin through, it’s a D-O-A

We caught a opp at like 3:08

Fuck it and fuck up a B-O-A

Flashback

“Chris I’m not fucking holding your gun, so I’m definitely not fucking shooting it” I told Chris as he had his pistol on the kitchen table

“Baby why not? We literally got targets on our back because of who I am. I want my lady to be able to handle her own if I’m not there” he said in a matter of fact way

“Yeah a target on our back because of the life YOU chose to run with….plus I will always have you, so no” I said drinking my water

“What if I’m in a headlock, the pistols on the ground, and any one of his goons could come and pop me, and then pop you” he said raising his eyebrows

“Well then the lord better be on our side cause I ain’t picking up your gun” I said shrugging my shoulders

He picks up his gun and points it at me

“CHRISTOPHER HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND” I said flinching

“BANG BANG BANG, you’re dead” and then he turns the gun on himself “BANG BANG BANG, I’m dead” he said laughing

“Put the fucking gun down now” I said getting upset with him

“Baby the clips empty, and I took the bullet out” he said showing me the gun

“Give me the fucking gun, and show me how to use it” I said getting annoyed

“YES IM TEACHING MY BABYYY, I’m gonna have my own personal shooter” he said getting excited

Flashback over

Tonight Chris’s friends were having a party after one of the guys got released from prison. They rented out a whole club for this kid

“I don’t want to go” I said to Chris dragging my feet

“Come on, why not it’s a nice area. The club is only open for us, and you know ima protect you” he said getting dressed

I was already ready, but I just didn’t want to go anymore. I felt like this was our whole life…. parties, fast cars and thugs….but I digress

“Fine I’ll fucking go” I said getting my outfit picked out. It was cold in Boston, so I decided on a long sleeve fitted black shirt, medium wash baggy boyfriend jeans, and my black Air Force 1s (shawty on demon time). I flat ironed my hair, and put on my black north face puffer jacket

“The black air forces?? Whose head are you stompin on tonight?” Chris asked laughing

“Anybody who fucks with you” I said putting my perfume on

“Blue jeans or black” he asked me

“Black” I said back

Chris came out in an all black shirt, with black jeans, his timberland boots on, and his black puffer coat

“Alright baby Boston Red Sox black and white hat, or Yankees” he asked

“Boston….HELLOOO” I said laughing at him

“Duhhh how could I be so stupid” he said making a dumb face

We had driven to the location of the club, and it was indeed a nice area, but it was known for gangs so there were some dodgy people out.

“Don’t leave my side at all” Chris said helping me out the passenger side, and shutting the door behind me

“Never baby” I said, and he locked the car

We walked to the club, and immediately I recognized everybody there. I even seen some of my girl friends who were either dating or messing around with one of these guys

The whole night we had such a blast, laughing, talking, drinking and dancing. Although these people had some crazy shit under their belt, they were actually super nice and respectful people.

“Yoo there’s some kids out there, talking about Drew’s gang or whatever” one of Chris friends came up and said to all of us

“That little fucking kid with the tattoos on his face?” Chris asked

“Yeah, he’s getting mad staticy outside, and wallin out. The security guards about to lay his ass out” he said

“Tell that fucking kid that I’m going to be dealing with his soon” Chris said taking a sip of his drink

“Ai, he’s alone so he ain’t gonna try some shit” he said to Chris

“Even if he does…I’m strapped tonight” Chri said lifting his shirt up exposing the pistol in his waistband

His friend nodded at him, and went to head back out to relay the message to the other guy.

“Baby….for once not tonight” I said looking at Chris

“I’m not gonna do anything, but if people start talking crazy” he said raising his hands up

“No Chris! You have to stop this” I told him taking a sip of my drink

“What?? I’ll bust him in his medulla….nobody will fuck wit me after that” Chris said laughing

I just shook my head and laughed at him

At this point it was about 2AM, and we all started to head out. We walked outside, and Chris was saying bye to the security guard and some of his friends

I was waiting for Chris to finish chatting with his security guard, when I saw someone in the corner of my eye. For once can someone not try Chris and I

“Yoo this your man?” The kid said coming up to me and pointing at Chris

I just ignored him, me being from New York…you never ever turn your head when someone’s coming up from behind you to ask you, or tell you something. That’s a death wish.

“You deaf ma?” I heard him say again

“Yo get the fuck outta here” I heard Chris say from behind me

“Yo get the fuck outta here Chris, Drew’s people got something for your ass, and it’s gonna start with your lady here” he said nodding his head at me

“Did you just threaten my woman” I heard Chris say, and he started to walk towards him, so I turned around to watch this glancing at the security guard to keep an eye out

“Don’t shoot the messenger…..you keep fucking wit our guys…they gonna come for you” he said

“I’ll shoot you, and the motherfucka who sent you” Chris said getting closer to the guy

“Babe stop” I said trying to keep Chris calm

“Yeah listen to your lady…wouldn’t want her with a hole between her eyes now would we?” He asked smuggly

All of a sudden I just see Chris swing at the guy, his right fist connecting with his cheek

“DONT YOU EVER FUCKING SAY SOME SHIT ABOUT KILLING MY GIRL. ILL FUCKING KILL YOUR WHOLE LIFELINE BITCH” Chris screamed at him and they started to throw punches

“CHRIS PLEASE STOP, THIS HAS TO FUCKING STOP PLEASE” I said begging, but not wanting to get in between them because I was not about to get cracked in the jaw

I'm not sure what happened but they started to struggle with each other, and were just scuffling. I had a feeling the guy felt Chris’s gun, and was trying to grab it

“FUCK YOU” Chris started to scream and started throwing punches at the guys ribs, as he had Chris in a headlock

All of a sudden his pistol fell out, and at the same time the guy got Chris on his back on the ground, and they were throwing punches.

The pistol slid pretty far, and I was contemplating on if I wanted to pick it up or not…..Fuck it…this is my man, and I will fucking do anything to protect him

I picked up the pistol, and cocked it back

“GET THE FUCK OFF OF MY MAN, OR I WILL BLOW YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF” I yelled at the guy, both of them turning to look at me

“You’re a little bitch, you ain’t pulling no fucking trigger fuck outta here” he said still struggling with Chris

I don’t know what came over me, but I moved the gun from pointed at his head to pointed just behind it, and then I pulled the trigger

The bullet flew right past his head, and it was so fucking loud, everybody froze including me

“THE FUCK” the guy yelled, and while he was looking at me Chris used this to punch him on the jaw knocking him backwards

Chris got up, and came over to me, and grabbed the pistol out of my hands

He walked over to the guy, standing over him and grabbed him by his shirt

All of a sudden Chris pistol whipped the guy, and I gasped covering my mouth

“If you ever come around me and my people, and my FUCKING woman again talking out your neck I’m going to come for your whole fucking blood line, got it” he said as he held the pistol under the kids chin

“Yeah yeah” the guy said out of it

“NO FUCKING YEAH YEAH, YOU GET IT OR YOU DONT WE WOULDNT WANT TO SEND YOU BACK TO DREW WHTH A BULLET BETWEEN YOUR BROWS NOW WOULD WE” Chris said laying the gun in between the guys brows

“No no….I promise you’re all good. I’ll never fucking look at yall ever again” he said in fear

“Yeah you better not, and if we ever cross paths again…you better cross to the other side of the street. Cause you just earned a target on your back, and when I’m ready to pop you and your people I'm coming for yous ….cause all my opps is targets, see the red dot no target got it bitch” he said throwing the guy down onto the ground

Chris looked at his security and nodded for him to get rid of the kid, and keep everything on hush. He tucked the pistol into his waistband and grabbed my hand

“Lets go ma” he said walking with me

We got into the car, and I was still so shocked by everything

“Look at you….almost boomed the kids face off for me” he said smirking

“I don’t know what took over me, but I knew I wanted to hurt him to protect you” I said to Chris

“That’s exactly how I feel everytime someone fucks with you” he said leaning in and kissing me

“You’re not going to go after him right?” I asked

“No, but it creates enough fear in his heart that he won’t even fuck with us ever again” he said putting the car in drive, and grabbing my hand to interlock it

“Chris we have to stop this lifestyle” I told him

“And we will baby, I promise you” he said kissing my hand as he drove off

The End

Alright this was part 3, and I may or may not write a part 4 depending on the feedback, but this one was my favorite one to write 💋💋

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo #Spotify

171 notes · View notes

sgiandubh · 1 year ago

Text

A tale of two brands

Sophie Mancini's Departures paper on S in NY started a flurry of comments even before the whole content was made available on blogs. That people - mostly in Mordor - jumped in to add their two booing cents on the matter, based on two or three Instagram Story screencaps only, is a testimony to Tumblr's community deep interest in S's slightest PR/sales move and the easiness with which people like *urv managed to push their own agenda, in the process, to her unsuspecting, bicep-loving crowd.

Many of these comments asked just one question, more or less kindly and more or less openly: who are you, Sam Roland Heughan? Some of them, more along my alley, took a different angle: who are you talking to, Sam Roland Heughan?

Let me count the US crowds: the Wall Street yuppie crowd? the old money, WASP Knickerbocker / Colony Club crowd? Tribeca's sophisticated, culture-ish snob crowd? the UN international crowd? the laid-back (-ish) brownstone Brooklyn crowd? the DC politico types? the Boston Brahmin crowd? the Silicon Valley Bitcoin crowd? the Florida Latino crowd? the Bible Belt crowd? the Deep South charmingly old-fashioned crowd? the yee-haw, witty and ambitious Texans? the gourmet, nature-loving Seattle crowd? I am sure I am missing some (it's been a while I haven't traveled to the States and I have to say I miss all 50 of them, plus and perhaps above all my beloved DC :), but you get the idea. And the problem, or rather its first layer.

The second question this very poorly written article prompted is: what are you talking about, Sam Roland Heughan? I mean, what destination are you trying to promote? Scotland, through your Scottish gin, which I truly believe is exceptional? The Big Apple, like a counterpart to Sting, you know - a Scotsman in New York? That's not very clear, since that superficial girl just whirled you to a couple Chinatown speakeasies, rat pitter-patter included (bye-bye, Knickerbocker crowd right there) and that's pretty much it. New Zealand, that you mention at length, Maori tattoo story re-hashed, just because the book comes out next Tuesday? Ha-wa-wee, perhaps in a belated attempt to mitigate Tunagate? California, even, because it takes you back to humble beginnings? Granted, the Frisco one, not LA: that would be a horrible faux-pas, in a NY centered paper, much like me whimsically and idiotically mentioning Istanbul (instead of Constantinople), in a conversation with my Greek friends.

My head spins. And then let's add to that a ladle of recycled talking points, yours and C's altogether, like this gem:

Aspirational. Mmmhm. She said that. You said that. Multiple times, in multiple contexts that probably didn't even call for it. This is *** PR right there. I am not JAMMF. I am not Claire. But we aspire to that. Stop thinking we are these characters. No sane fan ever did: the insistence is unnecessary and has a real backfire potential. Stop thinking, period. But let it be my shipper sin, then, not to believe an iota of it and stubbornly think you people are, by now, way past the aspirational stage.

So, I took a long walk down memory lane today, while driving, trying to understand what the hell your personal brand is. Once upon a time, things were clear: you and C were a single brand. S&C - the fresh-faced, candid, witty and funny and oh, so in love new kids on the block. The spark was real and it was strong (it still is, only dampened and muted by PR-prompted shenanigans) and OL's audience was under its spell. People loved you, both of you, and some of us still do. You showed us as much as you could and for a while, it seemed to be convenient for just about everybody. That created expectations, but at the same time, you could have sold us land concessions on the Moon and we would have bought them, no questions asked.

And then, things happened. We know what: IFH, EFH, Remarkable Week-end. The spell was broken for many, who left in droves. Fans turned into bashing other fans. The S&C brand was progressively compromised and along with it, your Barbour Ambassadorship (for different reasons). Let's stop a bit at this point, in fond remembrance: that was the perfect pitch, for the perfect kind of corporate brand, for the perfect niche, for the perfect guy. A guy who had a credible, authentic story to tell, with a really strong potential to attract people outside of OL's crowd. Image and message perfectly aligned. Best case scenario.

So, with ***'s and your own PR benediction, what once was your solid gold starting point was ridiculed, trampled, shot to shambles, in a (failed) attempt to be sent to complete oblivion. You then had to think of something and try to branch out of both the blessing and curse of it.

MPC suddenly became more important than just any other charity project, of which there were a few (Cahonas Scotland comes to mind, the blood cancer one, as well). Cue in Sam the Athlete, Sam the Healthy Living Evangelist. The project was turned into a lucrative business, with a strong charity side. People bought subscriptions, people changed their eating and lifestyle habits, people lost weight - but really, I shouldn't write 'people', but 'women'. This was a women-oriented endeavor. A problem, again, on the long term.

Ha-wa-wee 1 happened, to more scandal and shrieks (that, I believe, was the reason you lost the Barbour project, another gold opportunity squandered because ten Internet bitches knew better). Then we were told another avatar was born: Sam the Entrepreneur. With a genuine, carefully curated, labor of love first alcohol product that clearly used the discarded S&C brand: The Sassenach and believe what you want, but just buy it. Mommies obliged. Antis obliged. Shippers obliged. All wallets are created equal, as I (often) use to say. And then COVID-19 came, putting a very real, very dangerous logistic strain on it.

Yet, you still had to somehow mitigate delays and losses. The Sassenach went exotic, with that limited edition tequila that probably won't be remembered by many outside OL's fandom, and that is a pity and a shame. The reason it won't be remembered is that you almost did not promote it, spare one or two Tick-Tock and Instagram clips. Does that justify the investment, the trips to Mexico, the very expensive retainers and commissions your tequila friends took for their trouble? I very much doubt it. That was, until being proved completely wrong, a flop. It brought absolutely nothing in terms of personal branding, spare perhaps a new faction in this paranoid cesspool of a fandom: the Gay Crowd, fueled by the image of a Lonely Bandana Cowboy, instead of the intended Sophisticated Traveler and Connoisseur. Yes, people are stupid, like that. Your PR and Sales team, too - and this comes from a place of deep understanding and appreciation.

We are now talking gin and boy, am I glad we do! This is perhaps an opportunity. Finally, a more democratically price-tagged, carefully tailored (again) drawing card product. But who is selling it to me? The California Boat Party Host? In that case, I won't buy it, but never mind me: maybe the fun-loving California Millennials would (we know the Smuggling Mommies would do it, anyways). The Sophisticated Traveler and Connoisseur you tried to show us again in Mancini's abysmal Departures paper and who is invited to important events, in recognition of his efforts?

You can't have the two of them, Sam, whatever those incompetents told you. You're either a 43-years old midlife crisis-stricken and shirtless clown or an Old World Industrious Thespian, with a stature and a status to match. A real Entrepreneur, not a cartoon scuba diver/beach boy Influencer. Eye Candy vs. Brain Power: after all, you are a '3x NYT best selling author', aren't you? Your pick, not mine. Stop the Sri Mataji-style Hugging and Booze tours: it's nonsense and that geriatric crowd is nowhere near what you need to make your dream come true. Do some real soul searching and stop listening to clueless 28-year old journalists, who tell you tacky rings are fun: they aren't. They make you look like an ageing Atlantic City Sinatra wannabe:

Sam Roland Heughan: currently at crossroads, trying to not choose between two opposite personal brands. Tricky position and an even trickier context, with the strike still lingering on and the pressing need to find an after OL strategy.

I promised you a tale of two brands and I think you wonder, by now, what happened to C, the other half of the primary SC brand?

The answer is, I honestly believe, not much. She has no personal brand, so to speak. Until now, she is just an Enthusiastic Dilettante. Book Club - started, unfinished and with that, farewell to any fan engagement. Cinema production rights - bought and then silence. Botanical Gin - first batch released (?) with no promo, no interviews (mentioning it in a podcast does not count), no reviews. Then teasing, then crickets again: a bit late, now, for the end of year celebrations. And I have to say I miss her or the part of her I never witnessed in real time (is such a thing possible?). I miss that starry-eyed, funny and witty girl. That girl was somehow completely swallowed by an Acrid Matron, who thought it was intelligent to yell at an Internet nobody, on Christmas Day, 'I am not married to Sam!' (ok, you aren't, but you're still lying). And I honestly don't know which one is best (or worst, for that matter): try to build something and make mistakes and try again until you hopefully find your way, or say nothing, do nothing and of course, never be controversial.

Now I am really interested to see how is she going to promote her gin. But you know what, I am not holding my breath, for some reason.

#BoozeWars

159 notes · View notes