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mountainsandmayhem · 2 days ago

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BDSMaid - Chapter 9

Series Summary: In order to save money for law school, you accept a job working as a maid for high end clients. You aren’t supposed to know whose home you’re cleaning, but your curiosity is peaked by your first client, and when the two of you have a shocking and surprising run in more than just your curiosity peaks. Word Count: 5k CW: see small red lettering below the cut AN: I'm going to miss them!! I'm absolutely heartbroken that I'm done, but so fucking proud of myself for what I've created. Thank you to @lotusbxtch for being my beta from pretty much the very beginning. I am so grateful to you and so honoured (yes, with a u because I'm Canadian lol) to call you my friend. Also little shoutouts to @for-a-longlongtime, @alltheirdamn, @mermaidgirl30 and @littlevenicebitch69 for listening to me go on about them for 80% of 2024. As always, graphics and dividers by @saradika-graphics

My Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: unprotected p in v, one spank, multiple orgasms and Overstim hinted at, pining, heartbreak

Eight Months Later

Joel

“I got yelled at by a feisty brunette last night at that gala,” Tommy says as the two of them sip whiskey at the bar of the club.

“Probably deserved it.” Joel deadpans and closes the folder of invoices he’s looking over.

He should be doing this in his fancy, and newly renovated, office across the street. He was in the large office for all of three minutes the day after you left when he could only see the ghost of you. From the chair you sat in when you first asked him to teach you how to be a sub, to the door he pinned you against and confessed how out of his mind he was over you, everything was you, and it had to go if he had any chance of following what you needed from him. Joel hasn’t even been in his room at the club out of the fear of what it would do to him. Would I still be able to smell the lavender of her shampoo in there? Still be able to hear her beautiful cries of pleasure and pain bouncing off the walls?

“She thought I was you,” Tommy says, glancing over at his brother and interrupting Joel’s impending spiral.

Joel sighs, slipping his reading glasses from his face before taking a long pull of the amber liquor from his crystal glass. Tommy looks straight ahead as he continues.

“She’s doing great, by the way. Or at least that’s what her friend said when she was scolding me.”

Joel winces at his words, “Of course she is, Tommy.” Even though it's been almost a year since you left, just the mention of you rips his barely-mended heart back in half. It doesn’t seem to matter how much time passes, he still feels like he did in his kitchen.

The very fibers of his being ache just as hard for you now as they did then. He longs to see you and touch you, to feel your warm, soft skin under his hands again. Anyone before you was always, ‘Yes, Mister Miller,’ even when they weren’t in a scene; but not you. You weren’t afraid to be curious and unapologetically yourself. He hasn’t laughed as hard with anyone, including Tiffany, as he did with you. But the part that he misses the most is the way you look at him the first time you see him. Your eyes soften, velvety pink lips parting slightly before they curl into a smile that makes his heart hammer behind his ribs. Then, he watches your shoulders relax and it makes him feel like he hung the moon and stars for you, and if he could have, he would have.

He clears his throat and then rasps, “She’s too smart to not be doing well.”

Tommy stands, bringing his hands to rub at Joel's shoulders. He squeezes his tense deltoid muscles and with a hint of mischief in his voice he says, “Lots of pretty girls here tonight if you feel like moving on.”

Joel shakes his head and pulls away from Tommy’s grasp with a grunt. “Never gonna happen. Get outta here before you get yelled at two nights in a row.”

“Just too bad for me that you aren’t a hot brunette,” Tommy says with a laugh.

“I have brown hair,” Joel replies defensively, running his fingers through the grown out curls.

“Not to kick you when you’re down, but it’s mostly grey at this point.”

Joel holds up a single finger at Tommy over his shoulder as he laughs and walks away.

Two and a half years later

You

You’ve been up to your eyeballs in studying as you prepare for your finals. These last few years in California have been the hardest yet most fulfilling time of your life. Two nights in a row now, you’ve fallen asleep in the library, only waking when your Spotify would switch from the white noise playlist you use to help you focus, to your “getting ready” playlist. After dragging yourself to your dorm room in the dead of the night, you’d get a few restless hours of sleep before heading right back to your favourite studying spot. You can’t believe that in just a few short weeks you’ll be graduating and stepping into the life you’ve always envisioned for yourself.

The unmistakable FaceTime jingle fills your AirPods. Jamie’s name is splayed across the screen of your phone, along with a photo of the two of you at Albany Beach when she visited this past Christmas break. You put your highlighter down and slide the answer toggle over.

“Hey!” She says, her warm smile shining up at you. You squint, trying to place where she is. You don’t often let yourself think of Joel, but the cracks across your screen make FaceTiming difficult, and the selfish side of you always wishes you had grabbed that new phone before you left. Your head cocks to the side; broken screen or not, you don’t recognize the background.

“Where are you?” You ask.

“Oh, I’m good, thanks. How are you?” She jests with a mocking eye roll. “I’m at a cabin.”

“What cabin?” You say, glaring at her jokingly. A deep laugh comes from the otherside of the phone and your eyes widen. “Who’s that?”

The man's voice comes from offscreen, “I can’t believe you thought she wouldn’t ask where you were. She’s going to be a lawyer, for god's sake.”

“Jamie, who is that? What is going on here? Blink twice if you need rescuing!” You joke.

Jamie blushes, looking over the phone at whoever that voice is coming from. “I just wanted to call to see how the studying is going, and to let you know that I got the graduation tickets.”

A glass of white wine appears in front of Jamie and she smiles before puckering her lips in a kissing motion towards the man in the room with her. “Ok, seriously, who the fuck is that and where are you?”

“I was also calling to let you know that Laren can’t make it anymore and Odette is in New York,” she takes a small sip of her wine.

“Oh, well that’s ok,” you say, trying to squash the disappointment and hoping it doesn’t show in your voice or face. You wished that at least two of your three best friends would be there for you. “It can just be me and you, baby!”

“Well…I’m wondering if I could maybe bring my boyfriend? Might be a good opportunity for you two to meet.”

“What? What boyfriend?” You say, officially abandoning all study materials until you get some answers. Jamie raises a perfectly manicured finger and calls the mystery man over.

You swallow hard as Tommy Miller appears beside her.

Jamie glances up at him, her bright green eyes full of admiration, his mirroring hers. The starry look in their eyes tells you everything you need to know; they’re so far gone for that even a search and rescue team wouldn’t be able to save them. She looks back at you. “Meet again, I guess.”

You try to push for answers, but either of them give in, claiming you need to focus on finals. Before you hang up, Jamie promises to tell you the entire story when you see each other next. You’re happy for your friend, especially seeing the way Tommy looked back at her. Even through your cracked screen you could see the love, but as you try to go back to studying you have a hollow feeling in your stomach.

Graduation Day

You

The late afternoon sun fills your dorm room, boxes of your belongings stacked haphazardly around you. After walking the stage tonight, you are going out to dinner with Jamie and Tommy, and then he has paid for a hotel suite so the two of you can have a girls’ night. You can’t wait to hear how Tommy went from, in Jamie’s previous words, “my dad’s new asshole friend” to her boyfriend.

You step in front of your floor length mirror, zipping up the black graduation gown over your knee length, form fitting, deep emerald velvet dress. The California sun has been good to you, your tanned legs and sunkissed nose and cheeks are glowing. You place your blue and yellow Berkeley Law stole over your head and then grab your cap, ensuring the ‘Class of ‘28’ tassel is secure. You fluff your curls one last time as a light knock comes from your door.

“Ready to graduate, gorgeous?” Ronan smiles at you, eyes trailing down your gown. He’s the type of handsome that’s almost painful to look at, but more importantly - you wouldn’t have made it through these last three years without him. You met the first day - the lock on your door wasn’t working, and he waltzed in on you half naked when he mistook your room as his.

You smile at him in your doorway now; remembering the way you screamed at him that first time, trying to cover your chest, and him scrambling to close the door. His eyes were clamped shut, and he slammed his finger so hard that you had to take him for stitches. Now, several years later, he fills out his graduation gown perfectly with those wide rugby shoulders, a sight you couldn’t even have imagined back then. Whichever angel made him didn’t make a single mistake - he’s tall and insanely broad, with dark sandy blonde hair, and clover green eyes that in the right light are a golden hazel. He’s easily one of the smartest men you’ve ever met and an incredible athlete. The cherry on top, because of course there’s more: he’s an international student and has a panty-melting Irish accent.

“Beyond ready. Let's become lawyers, babe.”

He steps aside, one arm out in a ‘ladies first’ gesture. Handsome, charming, and thoughtful - a dangerous trifecta. You slide your hand in the crook of his muscle-lined arm and walk across campus together.

Ronan jerks his head towards the coffee cart. “Remember when you spilled your entire coffee on your new puffer jacket?”

You glare up at him, you saved for weeks to buy that jacket. “No, but I remember you throwing up in that trash can after the Halloween party last year.”

“Well, if Beach Party Barbie had helped Lifeguard Ken with all those shots we wouldn’t have had that problem, would we?” You laugh as Ronan puffs out his chest, but you both know he was more than willing to take your half of the ‘Best Couples Costume' shots.

Finally, you reach the courtyard where the law students will be walking across a stage that acts as the symbolic bridge to the rest of their lives. I’m a lawyer, you think to yourself and try to force a smile. The magnitude of the day only really starts to sink into your bones as you see the friends and families of your classmates start to take their seats. The excited feeling you had earlier starts to morph. You’re proud of yourself for what you’ve done these last three years, and this was just the first step. You have so much to look forward to, so why do you feel a sense of dread building in the pit of your stomach?

Ronan walks you to where you need to line up alphabetically, kissing your cheek and then, after leaning in and placing his large hand on your lower back, he whispers a joke about how you better not trip. You glance around the thick crowd for Jamie and Tommy. After realizing it’s hopeless to try and spot them in a group this large, you slip your cap over your hair and get in the procession line.

You try to soak in every minute of the day, from the speeches to the birds chirping in the background, but something akin to loss flutters at the base of your spine. You’re just as sad to be leaving Berkely as you are excited to carve out your future. Leaving here isn’t what’s causing you to feel this way, however. You try to tell yourself that maybe it’s just nerves; even with all the job offers coming in from your internships, it’s normal to be nervous about what comes next.

As the student union president gives his toast to the family and friends, you look down at your lap, pushing back the cuticle on your left thumb. Maybe it’s leaving Ronan. He’s been an anchor for you, grounding you almost every day of the last three years and you don’t know how you let yourself become this dependent on anyone, especially a man, again.

You shake your head at yourself and try to move your focus to the cuticle on your other thumb. Seeing the skin clean from the nail bed eases the tension slightly for you. ‘I’m allowed to be nervous when leaning on people, but not everyone will leave me,’ you recite almost automatically in your mind, the mantra you’ve had these past few years whenever you feel yourself getting this anxious. Just as you finish the thought, a car revs in the distance and the realization of what - or who - you’re actually missing slams through you so hard that you almost feel winded. Your lungs ache, tears pushing behind your eyes as his name rings loudly through your mind.

Joel.

You kept yourself busy since the minute you left Austin. The busier you were, the less time you had to focus on the void in your heart. During the school year, you didn’t have to find things to stay busy with; law school nearly chewed you up and spit you out. Over the summers, you worked as an intern and visited your friends. There was never a quiet moment, never too much time alone with your thoughts, and it was better this way. You can confidently say that you’d only thought of Joel six times since you walked out of his house that day: when you fell asleep on the beach and were so sunburnt you could barely move for three days; when you failed your first test; when your rusted SUV, that acted as your ticket to freedom at eighteen, died on the freeway in rush hour (from that point on you had to rely on public transportation to get you to the homes you cleaned). When you experienced your first earthquake; when you stayed up for forty-two hours straight after your partner in a group project didn’t have their side of the work done; and, lastly, this past New Year’s Eve when you were in Austin and thought you saw him at a party.

“Is he here?”, that little box of feelings that you shut away in a vault long ago wonders. “Has anything changed for him in the last three years?”

The small smile that pulls at your cheeks, and the excited flutter of your heart when you think about the possibility of seeing him again, proves that maybe nothing has changed for you. As the minutes tick by, your mind races with all the possible scenarios for after the ceremony. What if he is here? What will you say? What will he say? How will Ronan react, you know he has strong feelings about what happened between you and Joel. Even worse though, what if he’s not here? But maybe he’s at the hotel where Tommy and Jamie are staying?

Before you know it, your row is standing and walking single file towards the stage. With each strike of your high-heeled strappy sandals against the concrete, a memory of Joel floods your system. The toast he made you in his kitchen, the kiss in that dimly lit hallway on your birthday, the way he walked you through his club and how calmly he talked about you being in charge before going into the voyeur room. The multitude of orgasms he gave you within the four walls of his private room. Him singing on the small stage of the dive bar you found, followed by him spanking you right there in the bathroom with his hand clamped to your face to keep you quiet. His strong hand grasping your thigh as he drove you to his house. The way he tasted on your tongue. The smell of his skin: all ash and leather, occasionally mixed with whiskey or mint. The feel of his body: hard, broad and hot. His shuddered breaths as he confessed so many things in so few words.

‘It’s only you, sweet girl.’

‘Just call me Joel.’

‘I know, and I’m so proud of you, sweet girl.’

You carefully walk up the stairs, forcing the thoughts of Joel from your mind, just in time to hear your name announced as a graduate of Berkeley Law. You float across the stage, grabbing the piece of paper that acts as your degree until the real one comes, shaking the hand of the Dean who flips your tassel before you walk to the stairs on the other side; the stairs that symbolize the ending of your time here and the beginning of the rest of your life.

As you reach the top of the steps, you look out into the audience and see Jamie. She pumps her fist in the air and before you can process the empty seat beside her, you feel it; a strong tug from behind your navel. It takes you less than a heartbeat to find him and the sight before you floods your body with a familiar warmth. Standing under a large tree at the edge of the audience, dressed in all black, and holding his Stetson hat to his heart, is Joel. For the first time in years you feel whole again.

You keep your gaze on him, worried that if you so much as blink that he’ll be gone. You are supposed to follow your classmates, but you veer left, walking towards Joel. The closer you get, the more at ease you feel. He’s real, you think, he’s here. You stop a foot or so in front of him.

“Hi, Freckles,” he whispers, his voice cracking slightly. His eyes dance around your face, almost as if he’s trying to memorize this moment. You can’t help but wonder if he’s feeling exactly how you are.

“Hi, Sweet Cheeks,” you say, the same tremble in your voice, as you try desperately to hold it together. “You’re here.”

He nods and you give him a tight-lipped smile as your mind races. There’s so much you want to say, but now that he’s standing right there in front of you after three years, you don’t know where to start.

Joel breaks the silence, jutting his chin in the direction of the other graduates as he says, “I saw you come in with your boyfriend. When I saw you kiss, I was going to leave, but I made you a promise.”

You knit your eyebrows together and take a step closer. “Boyfriend?”

“The man you walked over here with,” Joel says, his black Stetson sliding down the chest you so desperately want to touch as he drops his hands to his sides. He’s left no barriers between the two of you except the heartbreak that’s evident on his face.

You laugh quietly, “No, he’s - that’s Ronan.”

Joel nods. “Okay.”

“He’s my friend,” you clarify, and when Joel’s face stays the same, you add, “And he’s still as gay as the day we first met!”

Joel lets out a whoosh of a breath and closes the distance between the two of you, his free hand comes to one of your curls, twirling the end of it around his thick fingers. Soft and silky meets rough and calloused. “I’m so proud of you, Freckles.”

You don’t miss how he watches your tongue dart between your lips, “Thank you.”

“So? How does it feel?” He gives you a soft crooked smile, his dimple carving into the short facial hair of his salt and pepper beard. Between that smile, and the way his brown eyes wash over you, you’re overcome with affection. He let you go. He did exactly as you asked him. He didn’t chase you or try to convince you to stay. You told him if he really loved you, then he’d do exactly this; and in turn, he did what he said he would.

He showed up.

“I love you,” you state and the air between you turns electric, almost like this moment could either set you both aflame or act as a generator for your future together. Joel gives you that look, the one that makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe. He lets the curled end of your hair slip from his fingers, reaching up towards your graduation cap but hesitating.

“May I?” He rasps and swallows hard.

You nod, and knowing exactly what he’s going for, you take the Stetson from his other hand and place it on your head after he removes your cap. The brim of it blocks out everything but the two of you.

“Say that again, sweet girl,” he murmurs.

“I love you,” it’s barely a whisper this time. “Even after three years apart, you are everything to me. I asked you to let me go so I could accomplish this, and you did. You’ve always done what I asked, what I needed. I’m not sorry for what happened between us, but I am sorry that I missed out on getting to spend the last three years with you looking at me how you are now. I love you, Joel Miller.”

He brings his lips within a breath of yours, and your body practically vibrates with the knowledge that if you leaned just a bit forward, you’d finally have his mouth on you again. You can almost taste the mint on his tongue as the familiar fragrance of ash and leather surround you. “I have dreamed of hearing those three words leave your beautiful lips more times than I can count, baby. You’re it for me. I’ll do anything for you, even if it means breaking my own heart, but I’m always going to be here for you, rooting for you and encouraging you. I’m glad you’re not sorry, because I’m not, I’m so fucking proud of you. I love you, too, my sweet girl.”

Finally, he presses his warm, firm lips against yours while pulling you tight to his body. You wrap an arm around his neck, holding the black cowboy hat against your head with your other hand. It doesn’t matter that the ceremony isn’t done, or that there are hundreds of people to your right. For the first time in three years, everything goes quiet. He hums contentedly and you feel yourself melt against him, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss. He parts his lips, letting you take the first swipe of your tongue against his. Need floods your system, and based on the way he grinds into you, he’s feeling the same.

He breaks the kiss, but doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours. “Take me home,” you practically purr.

“Where do you want home to be? I’ll go anywhere,” Joel rasps, running his nose down the bridge of yours.

“Austin,” you respond, your breath catching as his lips ghost along the side of your mouth.

“I sold my portion of the club to Tommy and Tess. I don’t have anything holding me in Austin anymore, sweet girl. If you have a job offer you really want, that’s where we’ll go.” You pull back to look at him. You can tell by the set of his jaw that he’s serious.

“I want to go to Austin. I have a job offer there.”

“Good thing I told Tommy not to touch my room at the club then.”

“That’s a very good thing,” you moan and then pull him in to kiss again. The audience behind you erupts into cheers, celebrating the accomplishments of every student in that crowd.

You’re a lawyer, and suddenly, the future doesn’t seem so scary.

Joel

Taking you home to Austin that night unfortunately wasn’t an option. After finding Jamie in the crowd, and being formally introduced to Ronan, he called the car to pick up the three of you. You all met Tommy at the restaurant, celebrating with all the expensive homemade pasta and overpriced wine that you wanted; even though seeing you in that curve-hugging velvet dress was slowly killing him. Joel had kept at least one hand on you since seeing you again, and he doesn’t plan on changing that anytime soon.

He didn’t want to rush you on your big night, so he waited patiently, listening to you tell stories of your last three years, and revelling in the evident joy that you and Jamie share over being together again. When dessert comes around he catches Tommy’s attention and gives him a small smile. It’s fitting that the two brothers, who have been so close their entire lives, would fall in love with best friends.

Once in his room, he spent two hours stripping you down at an almost painfully slow pace. He kissed every inch of your skin twice over and has pulled five orgasms, and counting, out of you so far.

Now, Joel is seated in the wide velvet arm chair in the corner of his hotel suite. His cock is buried deep inside of your tight cunt as you straddle him. Your skin feels like butter under his hands as he trails them along your back and the globes of your perfect ass. He’s missed tying you up, but this is what he longed for: the earth shattering intimacy he feels with you in these moments.

“Please,” you mumble into his neck, desperate to move your hips.

“Not until you answer me,” he demands softly. “How many times was it that you needed me, but were too stubborn to reach out?”

Earlier tonight you told him about the six times you really needed him. He’d kissed you softly after each confession, returning the trust with a time he needed you. After the last one, he’d pulled back to look at you with dark eyes. He’d hated that you needed him and he couldn’t be there. He’d clenched his back molars twice before he said you’d be denied six orgasms the next time you were at the club, but tonight you have permission to come as often as you need to.

He swats your already reddened ass cheek and your pussy flutters as you cry out. “Mister Miller, stop. Please, just let me move.”

“Do you need to use your safeword?”

“No,” you respond with a pout.

“How many times?” He says again through gritted teeth, even though already knows the answer.

“Six,” you sob.

He tuts and then growls, “That doesn’t sound like my good girl, does it?”

You shake your head against his throat and moan a sound of disagreement.

“Do you want to come for me again?”

“Yes, Mister Miller. Please!”

He trails his fingers up and down your back again, the thin sheen of sweat on your skin makes it easy for him to caress you. He smiles to himself at the shiver that racks through your body at his touch. You react so beautifully to him. “Yeah? You wanna grind your swollen little clit on my piercing, baby girl?”

“Please,” you whine again, stretching out all the vowels in the word.

“Show me. Ride my cock, take what you need.”

You lift your head from the crook in his neck and pull back slightly, rocking your hips back and forth; a sultry laugh leaves his lips at your eagerness. You look at him with hooded eyes, hair stuck to your forehead. His eyes trail down your neck to the bruises he sucked into your collar bone earlier and then to your breasts; both of which are covered in his marks. He watches the little gold nipple clamps, and the chain that connects them, bounce with each flick of your hips.

“That’s it, sweet girl. You look like a goddess, my goddess. Who do you belong to?”

“I’m yours, baby,” you say through shallow breaths. He pulls at the chain and you cry out in pain. “S-sorry, Mister Miller.”

“Again, sweet girl. Tell me who you belong to.”

“Oh fuck, y-you, Mist -” his hands come to your face and when he whispers your name the rest of your sentence dies on your tongue.

“Just call me Joel.” The commanding voice of his alter ego is gone as he says it.

Your hips slow, changing from a frantic back and forth to a sensual swirling motion. “I’m yours, Joel. Forever.”

He kisses you softly, a silent telling of how vulnerable he is at this moment. “Don’t ask me to let you go ever again.”

The smile you give him causes his heart to skip, “I won’t.”

“You might, sweet girl. I won't survive it if you do, so I’m going to remind you of this moment as often as possible for the rest of my life. Remind you how much you’re loved and supported. You’re mine, Freckles.” Your hips swirl and he feels you tighten up around him. “Come for me, my sweet girl.”

“Fuck, fuck, Joel!” It’s a cry and moan all at once.

“I’m here, it’s ok, baby.” With that, your body shudders and you fall into him as you shatter. Your pussy clenches and releases rapidly around his length. His cock twitches, and once he can’t hold it anymore he relaxes, letting his orgasm rock through him in time with yours.

“I’m yours, too,” he gasps as he melts into you.

The End

Coming Soon:

Curious how Jamie ended up with her "dads new asshole friend?"

Part 2 of the BDSMaid Trilogy coming mid 2025!

Also, stay tuned for the epilogue for Joel and Sweet Girl.

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moonstruckme · 18 hours ago

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hi mae!!! i absolutely love your writing and am evidently irrevocably in love with wolfstar. i just got my wisdom teeth taken out, and i know you already wrote something for poly!marauders with that, but could i request something for poly!wolfstar taking care of reader a few days after? so less loopy and more pain with lots of fluff and cuddles! feel free to ignore, love you darling!

Thanks for requesting lovely! Hope you feel better soon <3

cw: allusion to chronic pain

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 627 words

“Hello,” Sirius says when the front door shushes open. He starts to fold over the page of his magazine. He hardly catches a bit of motion from the corner of his eye before you’re flopping down on top of him, forcing a soft oof from his sternum. “Oh, hello. Everything okay?”

You make a tortured groaning sound, forehead pushing into his neck.

“You’re alright, sweetheart.” Remus passes a loving hand over Sirius’ head in greeting, en route to the kitchen. “I’ll get your ice.”

“Aw,” Sirius tuts, letting his magazine lay tented over your back. He palms the back of your head gently. “Hard first day back at work?”

“It feels like it hurts worse,” you mumble into the space below his throat. The tip of your nose is cool where it presses to his skin. “I’m so tired.”

“Oh, I know, baby.” Sirius kisses the top of your head. “It’s not very fair, is it?”

“Pain is tiring,” Remus agrees. He passes Sirius an ice pack to settle against your cheek, holding onto another while he leans on the back of the couch. “It’ll get better over the next few days. Tomorrow should be easier.”

“I can’t think about tomorrow.” Your voice is softer, lips barely moving as Sirius holds the ice to your jaw. You shift your face from his neck, turning your eyes up to his. “Keep me here forever?”

Sirius feels his mouth spread in a grin. “You know I will, gorgeous. And I’ll do you one better, lift your head and I’ll put two ice packs on your cheeks.”

You pick your head up as directed. Remus passes Sirius the other ice pack, and he sandwiches your face between the two with a smile. Your poor cheeks are swollen and bruised, but Sirius thinks you look lovely despite it, even pouting the way you are. You look between your boyfriends as though waiting for them to do something about it.

Remus breaks first. “Oh, my love.” He gives a pitying laugh, folding over the back of the couch to hug your shoulders. “I’m sorry. The pain won’t last much longer, though. Just give yourself some time to heal.”

“Count yourself lucky you had wisdom to take,” Sirius says. “I didn’t have anything they wanted at all.”

“I’m so tired of this,” you sigh, leaning into Remus. “Sorry, I know it’s only been a couple of days, just. It’s just constant, you know?”

Remus hums. He knows better than most, better than Sirius for sure. Sirius feels overcome by a fond protectiveness for you both.

He touches a pinkie to Remus’ forearm where it’s wrapped around your clavicle. “Alright, that’s enough,” he says, rubbing. “It’s cruel and unjust to have either of you ever work again. I won’t entertain it.”

“Oh, you’re going to be our sole breadwinner now?” Remus asks, smiling.

“Quite right. I’ll need the two of you to carry your weight in homemaking, of course, but I’ll manage the rest.”

“And you reckon your income can cover our portions of the rent and groceries and all that?”

“Don’t worry your pretty head over it, darling. It’s well in hand.”

“Let me lie about for the rest of the week,” you sigh. “Then I’ll go back to work and you can stay here, Rem.”

Remus turns his smile into the top of your head, nose denting into your hair. “Yeah? You sure?”

“M’sure.” You shut your eyes. Sirius grins at Remus, thinking that he has about thirty seconds to change positions before you fall asleep and he has to hold you this way all night. “Just need a few days.”

But Remus will indulge you in anything; he stays perfectly still. “Sure, sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing your head. “Whatever you need.”

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seat-safety-switch · 3 hours ago

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The news gets all upset about "leftism." All the editorialists are mad about it, because the people who buy them gifts and make them feel important told them to be mad about it. I'm not much of a politics guy, but I do know that I'm right-handed. Even though I benefit from this privilege, I think it's terrible that we discriminate against the sinister-handed folks in this way.

To understand the leftist movement in my country, I joined a commune. These folks have been so oppressed by right-makes-right civilization that they've fled to the desert, where they set up an equitable, people-powered organization dedicated to meeting one anothers' needs. Pretty cool thing, honestly. I wish there was a name for it. Anyway, I asked them how being left-handed was an obstacle in our society, and a bunch of them looked at me with confusion. One guy, though, one guy got me the line I needed for my big piece.

His name was Roderick (not his real name,) and he was a left-handed elevator repairman. This skill is not in great demand at the leftist commune, where there are no elevators and even the hierarchy is flat. Even though he could not ply his trade, he said, life was better here. In the outside world, he was discriminated against, refused work because of his way of life. And it didn't stop there. All of his wrenches had to be bent into funny shapes so he could use them. Tightened nuts backward, I think. I didn't really pay too much attention to that part when he was showing me: his story was amazing, and also his husband brought over some delicious madeleines, the recipe of which I stole and then submitted to the newspaper as my article.

The world will continue to stand in the way of leftist progress, but they must never give up. I myself am travelling to a large city outside my hometown, because I've heard there are centrists there. It must be very hard for them to live with an arm growing right out of the middle of their chests, and my editor really wants a picture of the freakshow.

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shoresoftheshadowlands · 2 days ago

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For me this is part of my aversion to small-talk and verbal chatting. If its in text, I can usually glance back right away at what was said. When its verbal, I have to struggle so hard and I get headaches quickly trying to hold everything together. It isn't anything against anyone trying to talk to me, it's just I cannot follow it, especially if people are talking too slow, or being too roundabout on what they're trying to convey, which I know is part of the art of small talk. I know its an important skill to have, but damn, it sucks.

It's even worse when it isn't small talk but some kind of lecture I'm getting for some reason, especially when it's complete BS (I live in a household of far rights, if you know you know), or if it's something that is a non issue that, for some reason 'today', it is suddenly their problem (For example, I organize the space behind my desk in a way that works for ME. It is in MY room which I pay rent for. It may look disorganized at first glance but isn't actually messy. Got a lecture today about how I must clean up and organize and so on because partner is coming to visit.

And I basically just said 'Look, this is organized in a way that works for me,' (I did not bother trying to explain how or why it does because it wouldn't matter in the long run trust me) and I explained that anything that does need tidying up I've already begun working on (Which she did not notice whatsoever, and instead got on my ass about 'all the dishes and stuff' which are clean, or was a take out container I'd only just been using moments prior to her walking in so it wasn't like it was sitting here moldy) Queue the 'Well I know you love me but I am beginning to suspect you don't like me very much!' because I am short and to the point and we've done this dance countless times and I'm so tired. I say 'While I'm gone please DO NOT DECORATE MY ROOM FOR ME.'

I come home. Wow, looks like my room is decorated! And there's nick-nacks and shit in place of where my things need to go! Great! I hate it! Exactly what I asked you not to do! COOL! I'm so glad you value your 37 year old disabled adult child's wishes and boundaries!

But even trying to maintain a conversation about it, verbally because her reading comprehension is shit and she doesn't understand what I'm saying even when I write it down very clearly, we are always at an impass of 'wow this lecture is going on for so long I don't even know how we started' or 'nod and agree, it will be over sooner'

the curse of adhd:

i will remember with absolute clarity, when the thought strikes me that i have a text to send someone, that this is the fourth time in three days i've attempted to send this specific text

i will forget, in the time it takes me to pick up my phone, that i picked it up intending to send a text

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rafedaddy01 · 3 days ago

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Sleeping over at your best friends place

Walking into rafes office in the house in the middle of the night (hes still working)

Stripping out of your pjs infront of him and telling him "either you f me or I am gonna start screaming for help"

Rafe telling you over and over how much he hates you as he is thrusting into you

"If you hate me soo much , why are you so hard?"

When hes about to pull out "pull out and I will scream for help"

“You have two choices,” you say calmly, letting your clothes fall to the floor. “Either you give me what I want, or I scream loud enough to wake the whole house. Imagine what your wife would think… or worse, your daughter.”

“Fuck you,” Rafe mutters under his breath, his jaw tightening as he reluctantly pushes himself up from his office chair. “Get over here.”

He grabs you by the waist, his grip firm as he sweeps the clutter off his desk with one hand. Pinning you down against the cold surface, he leans in close, his voice low and dripping with venom. “I hate you so much.”

He freezes for a moment, his breath heavy as he hovers over you. The tension crackles in the air like a live wire, his anger barely masking something darker, something undeniable. You smirk, your voice dripping with mockery as you tilt your head to meet his heated gaze. "If you hate me so much," you purr, letting the words linger, "then why is your dick hard?"

“Fuck you, Y/N,” he growls through clenched teeth, his frustration spilling over as his grip on your waist tightens. His eyes blaze with a mix of anger and something he refuses to name, the war between his words and actions written all over his face.

A smug smirk spreads across your lips as you get exactly what you want. Your fingers trail to his belt, undoing the buckle with deliberate precision before pulling it free from the loops. The sound of his zipper sliding down fills the charged air as your hand slips inside, palming him through the fabric. His head falls back, a low groan escaping his lips, raw and unrestrained. When his eyes meet yours again, the anger has melted away, replaced by an unmistakable hunger. Without hesitation, he frees himself and thrusts into you, drawing a shared moan from both of you as the tension finally snaps.

His hips slam into you at a relentless pace, each thrust stealing the breath from your lungs. His mouth finds your chest, lips hot and desperate as he licks, sucks, and nips at your sensitive skin. "That's it," you cry out, your voice breaking with each movement. "Just like that-don't stop!"

His bangs fall messily in front of his face, damp with sweat from the force of his movements. They cling to his forehead, and your fingers instinctively reach up to brush them away, exposing his flushed features. Your eyes meet, and the truth is written all over him-he's enjoying this far more than he's willing to admit. His pupils are blown wide, his nostrils flaring with every squeeze your pussy gives around his cock, dragging a guttural groan from deep within him.

The room is consumed by the sounds of your ragged breaths mingling with his, the wet squelch of your pussy taking him in over and over, and the relentless creak of the desk rocking beneath you with every thrust. Each sound only fuels the intensity, amplifying the raw, desperate energy between you.

The desk digging into your back was sure to leave bruises by tomorrow, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. All that mattered was Rafe Cameron, fucking you raw against it, fulfilling the forbidden desire you'd harbored since the day you befriended his daughter.

You met each of his thrusts with equal intensity, your body pushing back against him as you spread your legs wider, giving him more. His growl rumbled through the room, and his grip on your hips tightened, his movements becoming rougher as he drove into you.

"Rafe," you moaned, your voice desperate. "I'm gonna cum-don't stop, please."

He groans, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he watches you move beneath him, each thrust deep and relentless. His breathing becomes more erratic, his eyes dark with desire as he feels your body clenching around him. "Fuck," he gasps, his voice thick with lust. "This pussy is squeezing me so good." His words are barely a whisper, but they send a jolt of heat through you, making the moment feel even more intense.

His hand came up to your throat. His possessiveness showing, he wrapped his thick digits around and squeezed. “Such a good girl for daddy”

“But also such a naughty girl for manipulating me into fucking you”

Your gaze locks with his, intensity building between you, as your fingers trail down your body, finding your clit, your touch deliberate and teasing.

“Are you close to cumming daddy?” You teased him as you felt his cock twitch inside you.

The word slips from his lips in a low, strained breath as he feels the tension building between you, his body reacting instinctively to the pressure mounting. His grip on you tightens, his jaw clenched, and his eyes flicker with a mix of frustration and desire. “Shit,” he mutters, unable to hold back any longer.

“Uh uh, I want your cum inside me”

Rafes about to pull out until you speak. Your legs wrap around him tighter and hold him in place as your eyes challenge him. “Fuck, your such a manipulative bitch”

Unable to pull out, he starts thrusting faster. Chasing his high.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck”.

“Yes, right there!”

He grits his teeth, his body trembling as the wave of sensation hits him. “Holy shit,” he breathes out, his voice strained with surprise and intensity, unable to keep the reaction from escaping.

You feel the warmth of him till you up. Twitching as you both come down from your highs. A feeling of mixed emotions settled in the air between you. Rafe knows he’s pussy whipped and you know that you have him in your control. This is going to be a fun game.

He slowly pulls out of you as he redresses without saying a single word. He runs his fingers through his soaked hair a few times as he watches you still sitting on his table, spread out and not having a care in the world about his own cum dripping out of you and all over his desk.

You slip a finger in between your slit and gather both your juices, holding out for rafe. And of course he complies, leaning in and sucking your fingers clean as you call him a good boy.

“Such a good boy” you rub his cheek before standing up and redressing.

Rafe looks at you, his gaze intense but quiet, a hint of something deeper in his eyes. “Thank you,” he says, his voice low, almost inaudible. There’s an unmistakable edge to it, a sense that he’s already hooked, addicted to whatever it is between you two.

You smirk, watching the shift in his expression, the way his posture changes as the realization hits him. The vulnerability, the need in his eyes—it’s all there, and you’ve got him right where you want him. “That’s more like it, Rafe,” you say with a teasing tone, your voice dripping with satisfaction. The words hang in the air, a reminder that you’ve got control now, and he’s already hooked.

Rafe’s eyes narrow, his tone low and serious as he looks at you. There’s an undeniable intensity in his gaze, a mixture of caution and something more possessive. “Not a word of this to anyone,” he says firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. He’s clearly aware of the consequences if anyone finds out, but the underlying tension suggests he might not mind keeping this between you two, for now.

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @starkeysheart @wearemadeofstardust0 @theoraekenslover @mema10 @writingroom21 @wtfdudesblog @akobx @obxrafeandjj

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lostatsea-blog · 2 days ago

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Aftermath Part 3 (Final Part)

Alexia Putellas x England Reader

Warnings: None

The immediate aftermath of the ACL injury. This is a 3 part fic and will go between different POVs

Alexia’s POV

The knocking continued and you felt yourself becoming frustrated. It was likely one of you team and while you knew they meant well; you wanted to be left alone. You managed to use your crutch to hobble over to the door and pulled it open ready to scold whoever was on the other side but the words died on your lips when your eyes landed on the one face you had wanted to see since this nightmare started.

Y/N stood on the other side of your door, her eyes filled with concern as she took in your appearance and in that instant, you felt the dam break. Tears streamed down your face and your body began to crumple. Strong hands caught you before you hit the floor and manoeuvred you back to the bed. You felt her strong arms wrap around you and she held you while you cried. She did not say anything or tell you that it would all be okay, which you appreciated, she was just there. Her presence bringing you comfort.

“I’ve got you baby,” she whispered in your ear whilst stroking your hair “I’ve got you”

After what felt like an eternity, you finally ran out of tears. Your body, which had been rigid with tension since your injury this morning, slumped against your girlfriend. Her strong steady heartbeat under your ear bringing a sense of clam to your exhausted brain.

“què fas aquí? (What are you doing here?)” You finally ask, “You are supposed to be in camp.”

“Maria contacted Serena” she explained “Sarina has given me time to come here and be with you. Maria was worried, she said you hadn’t spoken to anyone, wouldn’t eat and hadn’t cried”

“You did not have to come” You whisper trying to pull yourself together “You have a tournament to try and win and don’t need to be pulled down by a failure like me” Your self-deprecating words triggered something in Y/N and she took a firm hold of your face, forcing you to look at her

“Stop” she commanded you firmly “Stop with this self-depreciation. You are Alexia fucking Putellas and you are far from a failure! I have never known anyone to work as hard as you do for their team. This is a setback, a devastating setback but a setback. You will come back stronger than ever”

“What if I don’t want to come back?” You ask, your voice barely about a whisper “I am so tired, what if this how it ends”

“My love, you are tired because you carry so much on your shoulders and do not allow yourself time to rest” Y/N sighed “Alexia, you do not have to carry the expectation of an entire nation on your shoulders, there are others who can help carry that burden” she kisses the side of your face as she finishes her words

“I am scared” you admit and Y/N pulls you closer ensuring you can feel her support “I am scared of coming back different and not being able to play the way I have. I do not want to be an embarrassment to you” You utter these last words while staring at the bedsheets below. You could not bring yourself to look and see your fears confirmed. After your recovery, you will come to understand that you were projecting your own fears onto Y/N but she was a woman who didn’t take anyone’s shit. You felt her fingers lifting your chin so that you were looking in her eyes.

“I did not fall in love with you because you are Alexia Putellas, La Reina, Ballon d’Or winner. I fell in love with Alexia, my Lex, funny, kind, sweet, goofy, clumsy, shy but above all perfectly imperfect. I fell in love with you, not your football persona” She wiped away tears that you did not realise had started to fall “If you never kick a football again, I will still love you and be immensely proud of you” she promised “but I know that is not how you want to bow out”

“How do you come here and turn everything on it’s side” you ask finding it difficult to understand the change in your mood. Everything felt a little less dark

“On it’s head” she corrected and at your raised eyebrow she clarified “The saying is turn everything on it’s head and to answer, the most important job I have is my job as your partner. I have always told you if you need me, I don’t care what I am doing, I will be there” she leaned forward and took your lips in a gentle kiss. You felt her love surge through your connected lips and again, things felt a little less dark. You knew that the road ahead would be long and it would bring challenges but you had all the support you needed to get through it. while the Euros were not on the cards for you - you had twelve months to make it to the World Cup.

#alexia x reader #fc barcelona femeni #fcb femeni x reader #fcb femení #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni #barcelona women #alexia putellas

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29daffodils · 1 day ago

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and besides, who has ever shown him mercy?

i know the fandom has different takes on this man. and a lot of it is... unsavory, to me at least, who loves him best out of all the four characters. so this is just something that struck me really hard while watching.

in the moments before he jumps off the boat, kant waited. maybe for bison to show mercy, to take pity on him, to maybe show him some humanity and spare him this torture. kant had already told him before that he is afraid of the ocean, and in this scene he reiterates it. for all the lies he has told, he has never lied about himself (through omission : yes, directly : no). and maybe it's just his last resort, hoping that bison's love (or whatever of it was left there anyway) would soften him a little and make him take back those words.

he waits and hopes, and the moment he realises this too is just a card he has been dealt that can't be changed, he makes his choice and jumps.

now let's flashback a little.

we have a boy, in the middle of the ocean, presumably having lost his parents. he grows up with the responsibility of an older brother — but that's in name only, because he has to be a father, a mother and a sibling, all at the same time. for babe to have grown up kind and empathetic and sorted the way we see him to be, all the credit goes to kant. kant is 29 and babe is in highschool, so he must be what, 18 at best? now imagine an 11 year old orphan having to shoulder the responsibilities of not only himself, but his newborn brother as well (i am assuming the drowning accident happened around this timeline from how young baby kant seems to be in the flashback).

to nurture a child into teenage while juggling work, schooling, whatever else. kant probably didn't exist in any of those moments. maybe the little bits of him that bloomed into existence happened when he was with bison. when he fell head over heels for a man who could snuff out his life in the blink of an eye.

throughout the show we see him put himself last. stealing cars because he needs to feed his brother, getting landed in a suicide mission because if he is out of the picture, his brother won't survive. falling for a man he can't be with, whose actions he cannot predict because they come from different parts of life.

and what if kant had thought chris was right about bison? he didn't get shot dead, but he sure got kidnapped, his trauma made into a mockery. and even here, as he waits for bison to change his mind, he understands him. not once do we see kant defend himself besides saying, “i was forced to”, and ultimately, none of it matters. because he knows he hurt the one he claimed to love. he knows the nature of a hitman. he knew he'd end up at death's door but he went in hoping it won't come down to that, because the alternative was his brother suffering. and he makes peace with the card he's been dealt once again.

and through all this, who was there for him? who showed him mercy? who nurtured his heart?

so like he has done every single time, kant takes a breath, shuts his eyes tight, and takes a plunge.

extra #1 | ---

#kant pattanawat #meta #my meta #the heart killers #the heart killers the series #kantbison #first kanaphan puitrakul #first kanaphan

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gifsbysimplysonia · 3 days ago

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Hola otra vez! For anyone not familiar with my annoying rambly feedback, ahead there be

This is the end of the first paragraph of the story and it's just so fcking ... like it works SO well for me, it makes me wanna spike a football

it's hard to find places where he's thought of as a stranger. no familiar faces, no conversation, no fuss. just logan, a bottle of whisky and time.

logan had no reason to keep count. until he saw you.

Well, if there's any indication a man is smitten, I'd say it's when he decides to keep counting after 200 years on Earth cuz of YOU *ded*

the bar was busy, as it normally was. he didn't mind it this way, less attention on him, less chances of someone trying to pick a fight with a specific stranger. not that they'd win, but logan had grown too tired for petty fights these days.

It's super interesting to think about Logan in relation to time and age. We just went from him deciding he's got a reason to keep counting the years to him being so tired that he doesn't want to get into petty fights. And as someone who grew up with Logan on the XMen cartoon lol, I know Logan to BE petty. So whilst we can't always think of Logan in terms of age, cuz looking at his appearance can make us forget, to hear that he's so TIRED that he doesn't even wanna squabble up on occasion? Well, that's impactful. The author makes it hit home in this other way and I really like it.

And here's another example of the author getting across to us where Logan is at when we meet him in life:

you're easy on the eyes, especially to these tired old hues that have grown accustomed to staring at the same old walls.

Straight up now we have the word tired, but also old. And not in relation to himself, but what he's got eyes on. It's such a clever thing the author has done here, and I really am appreciative of it.

logan can't let himself look too much, he isn't allowed nice things, especially not pretty little things such as yourself. he's poison, tainting everything he touches, spoiling it. he's experienced enough heartbreak, enough losses for a lifetime and more.

Sad face. This is very in line with the Logan I think most of us know (and adore). Gotta take all the blame, gotta punish yourself, gotta try to protect others from you by denying yourself connections. Wanna hug him.

he wonders if you know most of the tips you receive by the end of the night are from him. you're diligent, you work hard, and you deserve more than the minimum wage you're probably getting.

Also very on brand for Logan. Sees a need, fills the need, but doesn't want credit for it. He's also seeing someone he believes is worthy (and perhaps not in a way he feels he could ever be?) of more so he tries to be the provider.

it's not even lust on his mind either, he just finds himself captivated by your presence. he wonders about your life, your interests, your dreams. . .

And again, we are seeing how smitten he is because the man who has been painted as weary and bored suddenly has questions and wonderings again. That is, in the context of Logan's long a$$ existence, quite magical. But that magic is immediately followed by

though he'd be lying if he said he'd never pictured bending you over against the bar and fucking you senseless. he is an animal, after all.

and it's like

relying on others was a weakness. besides, what would you be to him but just another person he'd lose someday? it wasn't worth it. you weren't worth it. fuck.

"Relying on others was a weakness" is just hella relatable to me, so I key in on that. And then that ire being followed by showing vulnerability by thinking of her as another person he'd lose; Logan's heart has always been huge and you just know he remembers the faces and details of each person he has had to lose and she has that status already. Logan trying to lie to himself with the "not worth it" talk only to have to curse himself cuz he KNOW he's lying is also peak Logan behavior, and once again on a personal level, hiiiiiiiiiiiiiighly relatable lol. I'm always lying to myself about my own feelings.

you were strangers, this was stupid, it was all fucking stupid. but the mind of a lonely old man is a desperate one, and what logan really craves isn't just eye candy.

"Lonely and desperate" self descriptions and Logan referring to himself as "stupid." I'm sure we all wanna shake this old man, right? LOL because when he let's himself think about the truth:

he craves a touch, that first touch that sparks electricity throughout your every nerve ending, causes goosebumps to ripple along the skins surface. he craves something, anything. he was so fucking hungry. always so fucking hungry. a rumbling hunger that starts at the pit of his stomach and gnaws through him like a rabid animal frantically trying to escape a suffocating metal cage. it's a hunger he can't satisfy, he knows he can't satisfy. but he'd been alone so long.

It's connection, and it's gnawing at him. Loneliness is a helluva thing, and I think a lot of us know this. But this author is shining in the way she is describing it for us, outside of the usual age/years gone by methods. Tired, lonely, and now ravenous. And while we are in the space of a more spiritual hunger, here, it so easily slides right back to physical as well because he's thinking about a woman and wonders

surely one bite couldn't hurt?

Me literally screaming into my pumpkin pillow cuz I'm like NO IT COULDN'T LOGAN, GO GET HERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR cuz I know what's gonna follow is gonna be liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

switching bars wasn't particularly appealing to him, but it was better than having to look at you and feel that familiar ache.

The self loathing and denial is top tier Logan. He will inconvenience and punish himself just as long as it's in line with denying himself cuz he just "doesn't deserve it." Siiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

Logan then proceeds to go drain the snake before he beings his newest self inflicted penance, but she comes in to clean the bathrooms thinking they were empty.

Gurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrl lol

your eyes lock on one another for just a split second before you quickly busy yourself with the mop again. but that split second was enough. it was enough to notice how you were looking at him.

HOW WAS SHE LOOKING AT YOU, LOGAN?!?! It's funny how if it was almost any other man, I'd snort and be like, sure buddy. But it's Logan so I have ZERO issue believing whatever he saw in her eyes let her know she DOES indeed know him and want ... well, something.

you lean back against the bathroom stall divider, eyes drifting across logan's figure. he was tall, big. this is the first time you're really able to look at him, to study the features of his face. this time he's not hiding behind a glass or a bottle.

How interesting to see the contrast of her view of Logan because while he's always looking at her and sworn that he never caught her looking his way, she's letting us know she has definitely looked his way enough to notice he was a man in hiding. And she actually acted respectfully to respect that and not ogle him, which bummed Logan out lol.

the hunger in his gaze is obvious, but it's dulled, like he's just barely holding back. you think he looks lonely, there's a distinct air about him that practically screams that he needs to be touched.

Oof, she's intuitive! So she SEES what he needs and seems to be quite willing to, ahem, deliver for him but WILL HE LET HER is the big question.

logan pushes himself from the sink and approaches you slowly. was he really doing this? after a month of pining and longing for you, a stranger in a bar, was he really going to give in to his desires? would you let him? the lust was clear in your eyes and he knew he was reflecting it right back tenfold.

you eye the stranger who's been watching you, tipping you. of course you've noticed, you'd have to be pretty stupid or oblivious not to. you've come to expect him at each shift, but his presence intrigued you more than the other regulars. not just because he was more handsome, considerably more handsome. no, it was those sad eyes that seemed to say a million words while his mouth remained firmly shut that had you curious. even now as he stands before you so silent you could hear a pin drop, when you look into his eyes you can feel a sea of words brewing.

I do so love the fact that she's intuitive, curious and sees beyond the big burly handsome cover. He never speaks but look at his eyes and boy, are there a thousand stories waiting to be told. And it's the SAME WAY in the present with her. Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike, it's about to go off.

oh how you wanted to open him up, to peer inside behind that rough exterior, to take a peek behind the facade. you're sure you're easier to read than he is.

Again, I love that this goes beyond physical with her and that she's genuinely intrigued by him and by what probably most others don't see in Logan.

"i've seen you, you know," you mumble bravely, "looking at me." logan doesn't seem surprised, he brings a hand up to hold your chin, turning your face from side to side to get a proper look at you now that he has you up close. "yeah?" "yeah," you reply shakily, "thought i was imagining it at first. but by the second night it was obvious." he smirks, so he's not as subtle as he thinks.

No because how is he the King of Self Denial but somehow automatically is giving Dom the first time he approaches a woman he means to get to know? Not even embarrassing at being caught at his blatant perusal of her. SIR.

logan grips your wrists, not the suit. he wasn't talking about that now, he had to shut you up.

When I tell you this BROKE me. King of Self Inflicted Penance. I stg. And it's quite the conundrum to be going through an emotional gut punch when it's immediately followed up with

he leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as his strong hands keep a firm grip on your wrists. you submit, leaning back against the cubicle divider as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth.

and we know it is OFF TO THE RACES!!!

"taste so fuckin' sweet," he mumbles against your lips, kissing you between words, "you do this often? let men kiss you in the bathroom?" you mumble a 'no' under your breath, ". . . just the ones who tip good," you grin.

OH SH!T, WE HAVE HAN AND LEIA BANTER! They are my OTP so I'm always gonna call a combative in love couple that, but this dynamic is MY JAM and I love that what we seem to have here is a clearly dominant male with a bratty female. I am in Heaven lol

logan feels himself chuckling, biting your lower lip. oh, he liked you.

WE DO TOO, LOGAN!

his hand travels upwards, finding purchase around your neck. you gasp in response, moaning. he eagerly swallows your moan with his mouth, drowning out any sound that threatens to escape.

Always a trip when I am personally attacked by a fic lmaoooooooooo

he kisses you like a man starved, like he'd devour you if you let him. and you would, you think, if it felt this good.

"shhh, shhh," he whispers against your lips, "feel good? i know it feels good, but you gotta stay nice and quiet."

I want to diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie at the giving of instructions and reminder that, HEY WE ARE IN PUBLIC but we are absolutely NOT stopping.

"you wanted this just as much as i did, huh?" he growls into your ear, "need it, need me to fuck you."

Excellent dirty taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalk

he nods against the side of your cheek, his stubble scratching against your soft skin, "there we go, attagirl. . ."

And he praises? *dies again*

"yeah i am," logan smirks, he knows he's big, and he knows exactly how to use it. you just have time to gasp before you feel one of his hands connect harshly with your skin, the sound ringing out in the small bathroom of the bar.

"you've been thinkin' about this since you started your shift," logan says confidently, his words confirmed by how you drip around him, "thought about me fillin' you up, nice and full?"

I once again must mention top tier dirty talk!

and fuck does it make him harder to know that you've thought about this just as much as he has.

Once again, Logan's vulnerability is illustrated here because it's very human and natural to WANT TO BE WANTED so that it's exciting for him makes all the sense.

he knows if he lets you look at him, look up at him for too long, he'll lose it. he can't have your soft eyes on him while he fucks you, he doesn't deserve it.

*shakes him* He's still so Logan. Trying to convince himself again he is just not worthy. But I also do this to myself which is no doubt why I key on it, mention it, react to it. That just means the author is striking a chord with me and isn't that what we want? To feel resonance and know we are not alone in our experiences?

because he can't describe the shame that swirls in his stomach, that this is how he relieves himself, a quick fuck in a bar. this dirty older man who's seen so much sin, perpetuated sin with his own hands, who longed for the young pretty little thing in the bar. logan doesn't deserve nice things, this he knows.

It's a jarring feeling to be really into some hot smut and then have there be an intermission of this caliber. Cuz again, we are seeing into Logan's heart and his internal self who just screams and screams about not being worthy. And it's so painful and wretched for us as an audience cuz we KNOW it's not true and we just wish HE WOULD SEE IT.

you can't help but smirk, mouth stuck open as you moan softly, he likes it when you talk to him during, huh?

Even in her blissful state, she is noticing what he likes and trying to provide that for him and I love her for considering him and being thoughtful with him. HE doesn't think he deserves it, but we readers know that he absolutely does so it's sweetness in this midst of lust and shows us that she cares beyond whatever is happening now in this bathroom.

Y'all NEED to go read this cuz the smut is rough but because of the well established connection the author built between these two, it's very intimate despite the circumstances which don't necessarily lend themselves to anything other than a "quickie." Because of what's going on between these two and how well laid out that is for us, we know that the reason this is so rough and intimate is BECAUSE it's not meant for just here and now. But will Logan allow anything more?

standing on trembling legs, you lean up, giving him a surprisingly soft kiss. your hands take over his, helping him back into his jeans, zipping them up, clasping the buttons together and buckling his belt. all the while your lips are on his, slowly, passionately intertwining together.

And again, I love her for her thoughtfulness. She's being soft and tender with him. I'm not sure if it's a conscious effort to keep him from screwing things up (by trying to now brush her off) or if it's just naturally who she is and giving into her instinct to want to be gentle with him and keep him close. Either way, I love love love this moment.

". . . does that count as your tip for the night?" you joke with a smirk, hoping to see a flash of his smile again, hoping to alleviate some of that shame he's carrying.

Adore her for infusing humor into the situation and wanting to bring light back into his eyes. Whoever is going to be with Logan needs to have a sense of humor and give him as good as he gives.

the shame seems to settle, begins to dissipate. it feels less like satisfying an urge and more like. . . exploring something new. his eyes drift back to you.

Is Logan ACTUALLY going to give this thing a chance, and more importantly, HIMSELF a chance?!?!

I hate to quote too much in a story, especially an ending becuase I WANT PEOPLE TO GO READ FOR THEMSELVES but I need @silverskyeline to know that the last 3 paragraphs of this piece are SO FCKING GOOD.

The breakthrough and revelation he has, the tentative willingness to let himself release a burden and not self flagellate? OMGGGGGGGGGGG. Literally all the applause and bravo on this amazing piece. I really really fcking enjoyed it and am so grateful to you for creating and sharing.

It's really a wonderful character analysis or look at who Logan is, the person he think he has to be, with some hot smut that actually isn't a pause in the narrative but continues the throughline of exploring who he is and what he thinks he deserves and how he's giving himself permission to be a man again. I just ... I love this so so much. Thank you again.

'hunger' 18+

worst!wolverine x f!reader (3.9k words) summary: logan can't tear his mind away from the new barmaid at his usual haunt. he tries to resist you, he really does. but when you're both alone in the bathroom, he finds he's not the only one plagued with filthy thoughts. tags: for the 'longing' prompt for logan promptober, set in the bar from the movie, kind of angsty, filthy, pent up logan, alcohol consumption, doggy style, creampie, biting, light choking, pinning wrists, hair pulling, spanking, rough sex, implied age gap, sweet ending.

his usual haunts offer comfort, safe nests tucked away down isolated roads, usually requiring quite the drive to find - it's hard to find places where he's thought of as a stranger. no familiar faces, no conversation, no fuss. just logan, a bottle of whisky and time.

time spent staring into the grain of the old wood on the bar wondering how the fuck he ended up here. he'd stopped keeping count a long time ago, how long he'd been around, been alive. things get kind of hazy after two hundred years. logan had no reason to keep count.

until he saw you.

he's sat at the bar when the bartender clocks off, switching with someone new, someone he'd never seen before. you walk in and his eyes immediately scan your face, your build, your outfit. it's a habit of his, one he hoped he'd grow out of - but logan has learned that he'll never stop assessing for new threats. it's just in his dna.

but what he finds isn't a threat.

you're easy on the eyes, especially to these tired old hues that have grown accustomed to staring at the same old walls. he drags his eyes back down to his glass like he's forcing himself to look down the barrel of a gun rather than looking at you, before settling on you once more.

. . . but what harm can looking do?

a few weeks pass, logan notices you're in every few nights from now on, must have been put on the regular rota. he wonders if you know most of the tips you receive by the end of the night are from him. you're diligent, you work hard, and you deserve more than the minimum wage you're probably getting.

you've never noticed him, or at least, he's never caught you looking in his direction. but he finds himself craving it, willing your eyes to meet his even for a second. the extent of your interactions have been sliding a glass or a bottle in his direction before continuing with your other duties.

it's not even lust on his mind either, he just finds himself captivated by your presence. he wonders about your life, your interests, your dreams. . . though he'd be lying if he said he'd never pictured bending you over against the bar and fucking you senseless.

he is an animal, after all.

he wonders if he should switch bars just to distance himself. he couldn't let himself become comfortable with the idea of you. relying on others was a weakness. besides, what would you be to him but just another person he'd lose someday? it wasn't worth it. you weren't worth it.

fuck.

logan curses himself under his breath for even having this internal debate. you were strangers, this was stupid, it was all fucking stupid. but the mind of a lonely old man is a desperate one, and what logan really craves isn't just eye candy. he craves a touch, that first touch that sparks electricity throughout your every nerve ending, causes goosebumps to ripple along the skins surface. he craves something, anything.

he was so fucking hungry. always so fucking hungry. a rumbling hunger that starts at the pit of his stomach and gnaws through him like a rabid animal frantically trying to escape a suffocating metal cage. it's a hunger he can't satisfy, he knows he can't satisfy. but he'd been alone so long.

surely one bite couldn't hurt?

no, he finds himself shaking his head as he stands from the bar. he'd take a leak, and leave early. it'd only been a month since he first saw you, he could get over this. switching bars wasn't particularly appealing to him, but it was better than having to look at you and feel that familiar ache.

the bathroom door swings open and he walks inside, situating himself at one of the urinals. a few moments later, the door swings open again, logan doesn't bother to look over.

"oh, thought these were empty, sorry."

his head turns quickly. it's you, mop in hand. there's an uncomfortable silence that follows.

speak, fucking speak. "it's fine."

you pause, then nod a little and begin mopping the floor.

his eyes are back on the urinal, swallowing hard. was this really going to be your first conversation? with his eyes glaring into old porcelain, dick in his hand? he tries not to picture you stealing glances at him, but he can't help it. is that what he wants?

maybe.

finishing up, he quickly makes his way over to the sinks, pushing his hands under the cool water and rubbing with soap. his eyes flit up to the mirror. and he catches you.

your eyes lock on one another for just a split second before you quickly busy yourself with the mop again.

but that split second was enough. it was enough to notice how you were looking at him.

"all done," you say with a sigh after a few moments, standing straight and gripping the mop but making no effort to leave just yet.

logan eyes you in the mirror, watches how your eyes dance across the room before inevitably landing on him again. he turns to face you, noting the distance between you both in the room.

you rest your mop against the wall, "you're in here often." you state, it's not a question.

"guess i'm a regular," he replies curtly.

swallowing hard, you continue, "i noticed. i always have to restock the whisky when you come by."

"i like a drink." he says with a subtle shrug, just a step away now, eyes never leaving yours.

a small smile tugs at your lips, "i know."

you're not sure what you're really doing. you're supposed to be on shift, designated five minutes to clean the bathrooms. five minutes you'd much rather spend doing someone something else.

no, it was those sad eyes that seemed to say a million words while his mouth remained firmly shut that had you curious. even now as he stands before you so silent you could hear a pin drop, when you look into his eyes you can feel a sea of words brewing.

oh how you wanted to open him up, to peer inside behind that rough exterior, to take a peek behind the facade. you're sure you're easier to read than he is.

you're not sure when or how it happened, but he's right in front of you now, his body almost touching yours. you look up at him with a feigned innocent look.

"i've seen you, you know," you mumble bravely, "looking at me."

logan doesn't seem surprised, he brings a hand up to hold your chin, turning your face from side to side to get a proper look at you now that he has you up close. "yeah?"

"yeah," you reply shakily, "thought i was imagining it at first. but by the second night it was obvious."

he smirks, so he's not as subtle as he thinks.

your hands snake down, finding his belt buckle and brazingly begin to unbuckle it. he watches you, eyes fixated on the way your fingers move. he swears he's about to start drooling. but then you move, hands winding up to the buttons on his shirt. you splay your hands across the fabric, eyes widening when you feel what's underneath.

"are you. . . is that-"

logan grips your wrists, not the suit. he wasn't talking about that now, he had to shut you up. he leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as his strong hands keep a firm grip on your wrists. you submit, leaning back against the cubicle divider as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth.

he moans, relishing the taste of you, the taste he's thought about for so fucking long. he brings your hands up, pinning them above your head, shifting his grip so one hand easily pins your wrists, leaving his other hand free.

his free hand plants firmly across your upper chest, the rough pads of his fingers brushing against your collarbone as he explores your mouth with his tongue. you're lost in the sensation, knees going weak as you allow the older man to have his way with you. he needs this, you know it.

"taste so fuckin' sweet," he mumbles against your lips, kissing you between words, "you do this often? let men kiss you in the bathroom?"

you mumble a 'no' under your breath, ". . . just the ones who tip good," you grin.

logan feels himself chuckling, biting your lower lip. oh, he liked you. his hand travels upwards, finding purchase around your neck. you gasp in response, moaning. he eagerly swallows your moan with his mouth, drowning out any sound that threatens to escape.

the kiss grows in intensity, you wonder how long it's been since he's kissed someone. he kisses you like a man starved, like he'd devour you if you let him. and you would, you think, if it felt this good.

his hand on your neck gives a gentle squeeze before running down your torso, palming at your jeans suddenly. you try to whimper in pleasure, but he's silencing you with his lips again.

"shhh, shhh," he whispers against your lips, "feel good? i know it feels good, but you gotta stay nice and quiet." logan can feel the material of your jeans begin to damp and he resists the urge to growl, feeling the way the fabric beneath gives way.

you nod, whispering small affirmatives as he touches you through the material. "just give me more," you whine.

and that spurs him on. in a flash he's pushing you into the stall, stealing a few more kisses where he can before he turns you, pushing your back against his chest. his lips find your neck, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses along the skin he finds there.

you're like putty in his hands, melting back against him as his hand returns to your crotch, rough hands massaging circles against your clothed core. you resist a moan, exhaling shakily instead as you let him use you.

"you wanted this just as much as i did, huh?" he growls into your ear, "need it, need me to fuck you."

you nod quickly as you feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin.

"yeah, thought so," he nibbles on your earlobe, breathing deeply through his nose as he tries to steady himself, preserve the moment. but how can he when you feel this good beneath his fingers, taste this good on his tongue? "tell me you want it."

"want you to fuck me," you whimper almost immediately, suddenly feeling so very needy. there's a hot ache growing between your legs, one you're desperate for him to fill.

logan laughs, "you can do better than that, honey, know you can."

"please," your voice cracks and you swallow back moans as you squirm beneath his touch, "please fuck me-" it becomes apparent to you at that moment that you don't even know his name. your cheeks flush at the thought of letting this stranger, this older man fuck you in the bar bathroom, but actually, you kind of like it that way.

he nods against the side of your cheek, his stubble scratching against your soft skin, "there we go, attagirl. . ."

with that, he pushes you forward, forcing your hands onto the tank of the toilet to support yourself as he bends you over. his hands find your waist, his hips connecting with yours and slowly grinding his very apparent, large bulge against you.

you let out a whimper, arching your back a little at the sudden contact.

"feel that?" he mumbles, guiding your hips to grind back against him, "feel what you do to me?"

a gasp, "fuck, you're big." you can already tell, the way his bulge is pressing against you, demanding to be felt. you swear you can almost feel it throb through the material.

"yeah i am," logan smirks, he knows he's big, and he knows exactly how to use it.

pulling back slightly, he roughly pulls your jeans down, practically manhandling you, your underwear disappearing with it. he grabs handfuls of your ass before kneading the skin. "look at that, pretty little ass, all for me."

you just have time to gasp before you feel one of his hands connect harshly with your skin, the sound ringing out in the small bathroom of the bar. "f-fuck!" you whine, feeling the sharp sting, knowing there's a bright red imprint in the shape of his large palm on your ass.

there's some jingling, the sound of his belt being moved out of the way, a zipper. you prepare yourself, or at least you try to, but his cock is already slapping against your backside before you have time to steady your hazy mind.

"you gonna take all of me?" he asks, biting his lip as his aching length slaps against your skin, "think you can?"

you nod quickly, looking over your shoulder at him, "mhm!"

"if you say so. . ." he smirks and positions himself, one hand on your hip and one aiming his cock at your tight little hole.

then, all at once he's sinking in. you gasp, he gasps. and fuck, he is big. you feel that sweet stretch, his cock throbbing against your tight walls as it slowly glides inside. you're whining as it slowly fills you, eyes rolling back at the sensation. but he pulls out a little, only to push back in again.

he's working you up just right, mesmerised by the way you take his cock. his eyes are fixed on your tight hole begging him to enter, loving the slick sound as it pushes inside.

"you've been thinkin' about this since you started your shift," logan says confidently, his words confirmed by how you drip around him, "thought about me fillin' you up, nice and full?"

despite the way your cheeks flush bright red, you can't deny it. you've thought about it more than once, fantasised about it in bed, hoping that one day that stranger from the bar would fuck you so good you forget your own name.

you don't need to reply either, because he knows. he knows from the way your wet hole flutters around him, and fuck does it make him harder to know that you've thought about this just as much as he has. he begins to pump into you at a leisurely pace, firm hands on your hips.

"holy fuck, so fuckin' tight," logan grumbles, his deep slow strokes hitting you deep as he bottoms out inside of you.

you try to turn your head, to look up at him, but he grasps the back of your hair, pushing your head down. "nu-uh, keep that head down."

he knows if he lets you look at him, look up at him for too long, he'll lose it. he can't have your soft eyes on him while he fucks you, he doesn't deserve it. he'll take you, just like this, with your head down and your ass up and his cock buried deep inside you.

you feel his thrusts grow rougher, your legs slipping apart as you attempt to hold yourself up, hands planted firmly on the tank of the toilet. you're squeaking softly with each pump, feeling him use you to release his pent-up frustrations. and it felt so fucking good.

with his firm grip on your hair tightening by the second and his other large hand digging into your hip, you begin to bounce back against his motions, sending him even deeper. you both moan in sync with the feeling and you pant softly, cheeks flushing further at the soft 'plap plap plap' of his hips connecting with you, the sound reverberating around the small cubicle.

"that feels so fucking good," you sing, closing your eyes. logan gives a particularly hard thrust, speed picking up. you can't help but smirk, mouth stuck open as you moan softly, he likes it when you talk to him during, huh? "keep fuckin' me, just like that, so good. . ."

he groans, wrapping your hair around his fist as he relentlessly pounds into you. harder and harder, deeper and deeper, you're sure you'll have bruises littered over your body before the day is through.

"harder!" you cry, feeling your legs tremble. you're not gonna last long like this, and by the way his cock is twitching inside of you, he isn't either. "i'm gonna cum, you're gonna make me fuckin' cum!"

another groan slips from his lips, gritting his teeth as he uses you, watching you take his throbbing cock beneath him. "look so pretty like this, bent over, takin' what i fuckin- shit. . . takin' what i give you."

your body grows hotter, sweat forming on your forehead, each impact pushing you forward roughly. you're really not gonna last long.

he begins to hunch over, his chest flush with your back as he huffs against your neck, fucking you like a rabid animal. you're squealing now, the pleasure swirling in your lower stomach, threatening to send you crashing into bliss. at this point, you don't fucking care if someone walks in and finds you like this, sees his feet planted behind yours underneath the stall. in fact, the thought of the risk sends a bolt straight to your gut.

"yes yes yes," you mutter, feeling your orgasm approaching steadily. you swear you can feel him in your guts. you begin to flutter around him, begging for release, knowing it's going to completely destroy you.

logan can't even form words, just grunts slipping from his lips against the side of your neck. and then he feels it, his cock twitches, his mind reeling with the imminent release. he needs this, oh he fucking needs this.

he bites down on your neck, teeth sinking in slightly as he feels himself release deep inside you, his cum spilling out in strong waves. you feel your knees buckle, but a strong hand planted on your tummy helps keep you upright as he fucks his release deeper into you.

the animalistic nature of his thrusts combined with the sensation of his hot cum painting your insides sends you flying over the edge, your orgasm milking him as you clamp around his aching cock. he slams his hand against the stall wall with a loud metallic bang, splaying his fingers across the metal as if to ground himself as his thrusts falter.

his tongue lazily licks the indents of his bite mark against your neck, groans easing their way from the back of his throat. you can hardly catch your breath, legs still shaking from such an intense release. it's hard to think straight with his dick still buried deep inside, feeling it twitch with every aftershock.

you both stay like that for a solid minute, panting, coming down together. he's planting soft kisses along your neck as your breath slowly comes back to you.

he pulls out, stepping back as he stuffs himself into his jeans. you collapse onto the toilet seat, shakily pulling your jeans and underwear back up as you look up at him. it's clear he's looking to leave, a distant look in his eye, maybe a little shame creeping into his features.

you pull back, buttoning your own jeans as you continue to look up at him. ". . . does that count as your tip for the night?" you joke with a smirk, hoping to see a flash of his smile again, hoping to alleviate some of that shame he's carrying.

and there it is, a small smirk on his lips as he glances away. "maybe."

the shame seems to settle, begins to dissipate. it feels less like satisfying an urge and more like. . . exploring something new. his eyes drift back to you.

"i'll see you tomorrow?" you ask, tilting your head.

he blinks, suddenly remembering time exists outside this small space seemingly crafted just for the two of you. "yeah," he says, quietly.

"good," you pat his chest before moving past him, leaving the stall. you stand, looking back at him. a beat, "or, you can meet me after my shift ends?"

his eyes widen, taken aback. fuck, had he forgotten how to do this? his eyes flit to the side, before making up his mind. he gives a firm nod.

you smile before leaving him in the bathroom, returning to the bar through the door.

logan stands there for a few moments, running his fingers through his hair. he smooths down his shirt, feeling the suit beneath, a stark reminder always of his past.

but maybe he could begin to take a few steps forward. maybe he deserves more than to suffer forever, forced to keep everyone at arm's length. maybe he could allow himself this small happiness, a date, or whatever this was.

maybe it was time to satisfy his hunger, his loneliness, for good.

#wolverine #logan howlett #marvel #fan fiction #feedback #drag queen #trixie mattel #bebe zahara benet #miz cracker #michelle visage #vanessa vanjie mateo #nicole byer #trinity taylor #animations #AND mine

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airybcby · 12 hours ago

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જ⁀♡⊹｡° always picking a fight

( alexis ness x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — i love ness so here's ts i wrote at 1:30 AM ( MANGA SPOILERS FOR MOST RECENT CHAPTER )

♡ word count — 1.1k

♡ content — alexis ness x fem! reader, fem! reader, established relationship, hinted that ness and reader have known each other for a while, kaiser's an ass, kaiser and reader fighting, violence ( reader slaps kaiser )

♡ synopsis — There was only two ways to describe Alexis Ness—loyal to a fault, and yours completely.

Alexis Ness thinks you’re insane.

Because who in their right mind would walk up to the star of Bastard München, Michael Kaiser, and slap him? Who would storm past the press, security, and their own boyfriend to get in the face of The Emperor himself?

But here you are—eyes blazing, voice steady despite the storm brewing in your chest—standing toe-to-toe with Michael Kaiser like you’ve got nothing to lose.

And then your hand strikes his face, sharp enough to leave a faint red mark blooming across his cheek.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you spit, words laced with venom. “How dare you talk to him like that?”

Kaiser barely flinches, though the press of his tongue to his cheek betrays his surprise. “Excuse me?” he says, voice dripping with condescension, his gaze flicking past you to where Ness is awkwardly hovering. “Ness, is this your girlfriend? You should teach her some manners.”

Your glare sharpens, and Ness stiffens behind you, already moving to intervene. “Kaiser, let’s not—”

“No, Alexis,” you cut him off, your voice slicing through the tension like a knife. “Let’s not pretend this is okay.” You take a step closer to Kaiser, finger pointed at his chest. “Do you think you’re untouchable? That you can just say whatever you want and everyone’s supposed to bow down and take it? You told him to quit soccer. Do you know how hard he’s worked for this? How much he’s given up just to stand on the same damn field as you?”

Kaiser smirks, the kind of infuriating grin that makes your blood boil. “Oh, please. If he’s so delicate that one comment from me shakes him, maybe he should quit. I don’t have time to babysit dead weight.”

“Dead weight?” you echo, incredulous. “You’re one to talk. You’d be nothing without someone to pass you the ball. Or did you forget that soccer is a team sport, Your Highness?” The tone you spoke the nickname full of nothing but sarcasm and distain.

Ness steps forward, his voice soft and pleading. “(Y/N), please, it’s fine. I—”

“It’s not fine!” you snap, turning briefly to look at him, your expression softening for a fraction of a second before you whip back around to face Kaiser.

“You’re not fine. You’re allowed to make mistakes, Alexis. You’re human, no matter how much this prick thinks he’s better than everyone else.”

Kaiser raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Wow, Ness, you’ve got yourself a firecracker. Tell me, do you keep her on a leash, or does she just run wild?”

' Oh. ' Ness thinks.

" Oh ?" You say, your eyes narrowing and before you can think twice, your hand raises again, but Ness catches your wrist just in time. “(Y/N), stop,” he murmurs, his voice strained but gentle. “It’s over. Let’s go.”

For a moment, you’re frozen, chest heaving with anger, your glare still locked on Kaiser. But then you see the way Ness’s shoulders are hunched, how his eyes are darting to the ground as if he’s trying to make himself smaller.

And just like that, the fight drains out of you.

You let Ness guide you away, your hand still trembling in his. You can feel Kaiser’s smug gaze burning into your back, but you don’t look back.

The walk back to your shared apartment is silent, the tension thick enough to choke on. Ness doesn’t say a word, and neither do you. You’re still fuming, but the anger isn’t directed at him.

When you finally step inside, the silence feels suffocating. Ness closes the door softly, setting his bag down by the wall, and you shrug off your coat with more force than necessary.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ness asks quietly, his voice cautious, like he’s testing the waters.

You shake your head, avoiding his gaze. “No.” Your voice is thick with emotion, the one syllable wavering as you hid your face from him.

But he knows you better than that. He always has.

He’s seen this pattern too many times—how your fiery outbursts always burn brightest when you’re protecting someone you love, and how the aftermath leaves you raw and vulnerable. He knows you’re trying to hold it together, but the cracks are already showing.

“(Y/N)...” Ness starts, his voice hesitant. He takes a tentative step closer, watching you carefully, like you might break if he moves too fast.

“I’m not crying,” you blurt out, your voice shaky.

His lips press into a thin line. “I didn’t say you were.”

You let out a bitter laugh, and that’s when the tears start to spill, hot and unrelenting. “He shouldn’t talk to you like that,” you choke out, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve any of it.”

Ness is by your side in an instant, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle but firm embrace. “Hey, hey,” he murmurs, his voice soothing. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not,” you whisper, burying your face in his chest. “You just don’t want to say it. You’ve always been too nice, too... loyal. Even when people don’t deserve it.”

He sighs softly, resting his chin on top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says, and the sincerity in his voice makes your heart ache. “I didn’t mean to make you so upset.”

You pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him through tear-filled eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do. That’s the problem, Alexis. You let people like that shaggy haired fuck walk all over you, and it’s not fair.”

He brushes a tear from your cheek with his thumb, his touch impossibly gentle. “I don’t care what Kaiser thinks of me,” he says softly. A lie, and you both know it.

“I care about you. And seeing you like this... it hurts more than anything he could ever say to me.” Alexis Ness had taken many verbal lashings from Kaiser, but nothing would hurt him more than seeing you hurt because of him.

You sniffle, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. “I just... I hate seeing people treat you like you’re nothing. Because you’re everything to me, Alexis. You always have been.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, his eyes searching yours. Then he pulls you close again, holding you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

“Yes, you do,” you reply fiercely, your words muffled against his chest. “You deserve everything, Alexis.”

The two of you stand there in the quiet of your apartment, holding each other as the weight of the day slowly starts to fade. You know the fight isn’t over—not with Kaiser, not with the world—but in this moment, it doesn’t matter.

All that matters is the way Alexis holds you, steady and unwavering, as if he’s trying to absorb all your pain and make it his own.

And maybe he is. Because that’s just who Alexis Ness is—loyal to a fault, and yours completely.

is ness also batshit crazy? sometimes, but i think he'd be more vulnerable with a gf

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

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godhandler · 2 days ago

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Ex-boyfriend Gojo who shows up at your house 5 years later. He looks a bit different now.

|Souls are laid to rest after the death of the body. As for Gojo Satoru, his soul rests with you. In other words, your terrible ex-boyfriend is having way too much fun haunting you|

|satoru gojo x reader, fluff, lil bitty angst, gojo being gojo, 700 words, desi-coded reader|

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Satoru flashes his 24-carat grin ear to ear when you come to. “All this 'cause you don’t take iron supplements. How many times have I told you again?” He shakes his head. “Your voodoo spicy diarrhoea jar won’t fix everything, you know.”

The human body has two directors of the nervous system. While mostly the wondrous brain lords over man, there come times that the castle of the body comes under attack by such impossibility (like a rampage by demonic forces or worse, the ghost of your terrible ex come alive) that the coward brain hides and the spinal cord, which does not have the complexity to understand emotional duress, takes control.

“Don’t insult Chawanprash.” Satoru might be a translucent mist after his untimely death floating in front of you and breaking all existing laws of physics. But your spinal cord does not care for such trivialities. “I’m not even anaemic anymore.”

“Is that why a silly surprise sent you lying on the floor?”

Ghost boy correct, says your spinal cord. Get up body, cook dinner.

“I have to get up and cook dinner.” Your voice is too hollow for Satoru. It’s the shock sending you to robotic autopilot, he hopes, you’ve been out for a couple hours after all. It’s 2 am now. “Merry Christmas, Satoru.”

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

My love. Satoru called you that. He used to call you that. It’s been 5 years. The floor is cold. It’s Christmas. The sofa you grab to pull yourself up is soft, the walls you lean on your path to the kitchen hard. Satoru is here. Satoru called you his love. The stove is hot. My love. Satoru’s love. 5 years ago he called the wedding off. Oven is steamy inside, a fully baked cinnamon cake sweet. Your mouth is full of cake. Warm and sweet. You created the recipe for Satoru. Satoru is a ghost now. He called you- My love. Satoru is dead.

“Satoru is dead.” Disbelieving words slip through your mouth. You stare straight ahead at the kitchen wall, refusing to look at the ghost floating behind your shoulder.

He doesn’t reply.

“How are you dead? Satoru?”

Nothing.

“Is it that terrorist in Shibuya? I guessed it was something curse related. But I still don’t understand. How could you die?”

Nothing but a slight swish as the ghost moves.

“How could you die?”

Another swish– “I wish I could taste the cake, it looks incredible. Say, we could sprinkle powdered sugar on it too. And honey. Cookie crumbs, red bean paste, chocolate syrup.”

Ah. Infinity is nothing compared to the emotional barrier Satoru surrounds himself with. Even to you. Even after death.

Not a big deal. It’s just that you’ve known him since you were in kindergarten together as babies, grew up playing together, still kept in touch even after he went away to study jujutsu and you to art college, supported him through the pit he fell into after Geto’s defection, officially dated for four years and engaged for one until he called it quits.

But hey, it’s not like your story ended there. It wasn't all so tragic. Break ups happen everyday.

Life goes on. He had his life and you had yours. The work report was due on Saturday. Your elderly neighbour needed help moving their fridge. Satoru blocked you on everything a week later. Your cousin had a baby shower. Taxes have to be filed soon. Your mom broke her hip, needed to be driven to the hospital. Whispers said that he’s found a woman to marry, that she’s the one, some said it’s all idle gossip, they’re just close friends and nothing more. You got a promotion at work. The washing machine had to be fixed. Mom needed help getting around so you moved in with her temporarily. Taxes again. Your cousin had another baby shower, a little girl this time. Life goes on.

It’s fine.

You sit with your mug of mulled wine and cinnamon cake at the dinner table. You’ve kept the same apartment all these years, it’s a familiar memory as Satoru pulls a chair to sit beside you. His hand goes right through the cake to his despair. You laugh. He giggles.

It’s fine.

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mofongomuncher · 23 hours ago

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𝙏𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 [!𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏¡]

(Ekko X Reader)

❥ cast : ! Ekko and Reader ¡

Ekko stood at the far end of his room, his back to you, arms resting on the edge of his table. He was awfully quiet, his chest rising and falling with unspoken thoughts.

You watched him from a far, leaning against the doorway. His shoulders were tense, muscles coiled as if he were carrying more than he'd ever admit. But that was Ekko, wasn't it?

"You're brooding again..." you said, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

He turned his head slightly, a small smirk tugged at his lips. "And you're lurking again..Guess we're both predictable."

You stepped into the room, your boots scuffing softly against the floor. The air between you two felt electric, like it always did—charged with tension that neither of you could name, let alone tame.

"Still working on that time device?" you asked, gesturing to the intricate gears and wires scattered across the bench.

He turned fully to face you, leaning back against the table. His eyes—sharp, brown, trailed over you for a moment longer than necessary. "Nah.." he said, his voice low, steady. "That's on pause for today. Had other things on my mind."

You raised an eyebrow. "Hm, Like what?"

His smirk deepened, but it wasn't playful this time. "You. Of course.."

The single word hung in the air, heavy and deliberate. It sent a rush through you, but you didn't flinch. You never did—not in front of Ekko.

Instead, you took another step closer.

"Huh, I don't remember giving you permission to think about me?" you teased, crossing your arms.

Ekko tilted his head, his expression softening. "I didn't think I needed permission"

Your breath hitched, but you masked it with a quiet laugh. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," he said, pushing off the table and closing the distance between you in two slow, deliberate steps. "And you know what? I think you like it don't you!The way you show up, act like you're just here to check on me...But it's more than that, isn't it?"

His words were careful, measured. You felt the heat rise in your chest, spreading through your body like wildfire. He was too close now, the earthy scent of his was now filling your senses.

"You've got a big ego for someone who spends most of his time hiding in here." you shot back.

He chuckled, the sound low and rough. "Yeah maybe...But I'm not wrong, am I?"

Your silence was answered enough, and he knew it. His hand came up, his rough fingers brushing lightly against your jaw. The touch was barely there, but it sent a shiver down your spine. You didn't pull away.

You couldn't.

"You make it hard to stay focused, you know that right? " he murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Every time you walk in, it's like... nothing else even matters anymore."

The weight of his confession settled over you, heavy and intoxicating. You searched his face, looking for any hint of deception, but there was none.

Ekko never played games—not like this.

"You really are trouble aren't you Ekko.." you said softly, the words more for yourself than him.

He smiled, a real one this time, warm and genuine. "So are you huh.."

His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until there was nothing but the sound of your breaths mingling, the heat of his body against yours. When his lips finally met yours, it wasn't gentle. It was raw, a clash of need and want and months of unspoken tension.

You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, his arms, gripping the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. He deepened the kiss, his other hand finding your waist, pulling you even closer.

When you two finally broke apart, gasping for air, his eyes focused on yours, his breath warm against your skin.

"Tell me you don't feel it Y/N.." he whispered, his voice almost desperate.

You swallowed hard, your hands still pressed against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

"I can't" you admitted, your voice barely audible.

His grip on you tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. "Then don't push me away."

"I'm not," you said, shaking your head. "But I'm hoping you can handle all of this."

He smiled at your comment, that same reckless, confident grin that made your heart race.

Before you could say anything about his silence, his hands slid lower, gripping your waist. His eyes searched yours, waiting for the moment you might pull away. But you didn't. You leaned into him instead, giving him silent permission to keep going.

"I feel like you're testing me now.." he murmured, his voice low and rough as his lips brushed the shell of your ear. "Like you want to see just how far I'll go."

Your breath hitched as his hands tightened, pulling you flush against him. You felt the tension radiating off his body, the restraint he was barely holding onto. You could feel it too—an ache building in the pit of your stomach, something you'd ignored for too long.

"how far will you go, Ekko?" you whispered.

He exhaled a soft laugh, the sound laced with both amusement and desire. "Far enough to make you forget how much you like to act all tough." he said, tilting your chin up with a single finger. "You talk all big, but you and I both know you've been waiting for this."

You didn't answer—not with words. Instead, you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down to you, crashing your lips against his. He groaned against your mouth, the sound deep and primal as his hands roamed your body, exploring every curve like he'd been imagining this for months.

The kiss grew heated, messy. He guided you back until your hips hit the edge of the workbench, and in one swift motion, he lifted you onto it. His hands moved to your thighs, spreading them apart as he stepped between them, pressing himself against you in a way that made your head spin.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he said against your lips, his voice rough with restraint as his fingers brushed the bare skin of your legs.

"Good.." you whispered, your nails digging into his shoulders as you pulled him closer. "Now you know how I feel."

He chuckled, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a path of open-mouthed kisses that made your breath hitch. His teeth grazed your skin, just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

His hands moved with purpose, gripping your thighs and pulling you further into him. The heat between you was so overwhelming, as his lips returned to yours—capturing you in a kiss. You were his now, and he was going to make sure you knew it.

With a low growl, Ekko pulled away just long enough to guide you back, his hands never leaving your body as he laid you gently on his bed. The room felt smaller, the air thick with tension, every heartbeat quickening. His eyes never left yours as he hovered above you. His hands brushed the strand of hair from your face, his lips grazing your cheek before pressing a soft kiss.

"And I thought you were all talk.." he muttered, his voice rough, but a faint smirk played on his lips. "Guess I was wrong, hm."

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile curling on your lips. "You think I'm just talk?" you whispered, your fingers trailing down his chest, moving deliberately slow. "Maybe, I'm just making you work for it."

You watched as his confidence didn't sway, but there was something in his eyes—something more—that told you this game wasn't as easy for him as he was letting on. Smirking, you slid your hands down his chest to his waist, and with a deliberate movement, you pushed him back onto the bed. He didn't resist, and as he fell back, you crawled over him, straddling him with a mischievous grin.

"Wow, would you look at that?" you teased, your fingers lightly brushing over his chest as you leaned down, your lips hovering just above his. "Who's all tough now, hm?"

His breath hitched slightly, but his gaze remained focused. "You really think laying me down means you've got control here?" he asked, his voice smooth, but there was an edge to it that let you know he wasn't entirely sure about where this was going.

"Mmm, Maybe." you purred, leaning in just enough to brush your lips against his.

You lowered yourself, your lips trailing down his neck as you ground your hips against him, teasing him just enough to make his restraint snap. His hands gripped the sheets beneath him, and you could feel the tension building again, both of you barely keeping control.

"What are you trying to do here doll.." he muttered, but you could hear the hint of amusement in his voice.

You pulled away, hovering over him with a wicked grin. "Mmmm" you hummed, your voice soft but full of challenge "I'm just trying to see how you'll react to me.."

The words hung in the space between you, charged and deliberate, and you watched as his throat tried working to swallow whatever response he thought might be appropriate. But there wasn't one.

Not now.

Not when you could see the flicker of tension in his eyes, the way they darted from your lips to yours, searching for permission, for confirmation, for something—anything. But you weren't giving him answers.

You were giving him a challenge.

His hands finally moved, as they found their place on your hips, his touch firm. You felt the heat of his palms through the thin fabric of your clothes, and it sent a shiver racing up your spine. Still, you didn't move. Not yet. You wanted him to squirm a little longer, to feel the weight of your patience pressing down on him, reminding him just how much control you had in this moment.

When you finally leaned in, it wasn't sudden or rushed. It was deliberate, calculated, your lips brushing against his in a slow, teasing kiss that left him gasping for more. His grip tightened on your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, no room for hesitation. He kissed you back with a desperation that surprised even himself, his mouth moving greedily against yours as if he couldn't get enough.

It was exactly what you wanted.

You pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss just long enough to catch your breath, and grinned down at him. "Wow, took you long enough." you murmured, your voice thick with satisfaction.

He let out a shaky laugh, his hands sliding up your sides until they reached the hem of your shirt. "You really are something else, you know that?" he said, his tone equal parts exasperation and awe.

"And yet..." you trailed off, arching an eyebrow as you shifted your weight, grinding against him just enough to make him groan.

"You can't seem to resist me hm?."

That did it. His hands were under your shirt in an instant, pushing the fabric up and over your head in one swift motion. The cool air hit your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze, taking in every inch of exposed flesh. You didn't give him time to linger, though. Leaning down, you captured his lips again, your tongue sliding against his in a way that left no doubt about what you wanted—what you needed.

His hands were everywhere all at once, exploring your body with a hunger that matched your own. You could feel his cock pressing against you, hard and insistent, and it only fueled the fire burning in your veins. Shifting your hips, you grind against him again, earning another desperate moan that vibrated against your lips.

Breaking the kiss, you sat back just enough to take in the sight of his boner beneath you—his cheeks flushed, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes dark with need. "You look so good like this Ekko" you said, trailing a finger down the center of his chest.

"Helpless. And Desperate."

He chuckled weakly, shaking his head.

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"Oh, I so am" you agreed without hesitation, your grin widening as you leaned down to nip at his neck.

"Don't act like you aren't too."

His breath hitched as your teeth grazed his skin, his hands tightening on your waist. "I am..." he managed, his voice strangled.

You smirked against his neck, kissing the spot you'd just bitten before sitting up again. Your hands went to the button of his jeans, and you made quick work of it, tugging them down his legs along with his boxers. He hissed as the cool air hit his sensitive skin, but the sound turned into a groan when your hand wrapped around his thick cock, stroking him slowly, teasingly.

"F-Fuck.." he muttered, his hips jerking up into your touch.

"Patience Ekko.." you scolded, squeezing lightly just to watch him squirm.

He groaned again, but he didn't argue. Instead, his hands found their way to your thighs, gripping them tightly as if he needed something to anchor him. You took your time, exploring every inch of him with your hands, your lips, your tongue, until he was trembling beneath you, his body taut with restraint.

Finally, when you couldn't take the anticipation any longer, you lifted yourself up, removing your pants, tossing it across the room—and positioning yourself over him. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with a mixture of longing and disbelief, and you smiled softly. "Ready?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded wordlessly, his hands moving to your hips to guide you. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, feeling every inch of him stretch and fill you. It was so overwhelming, the sensation so intense that it nearly stole your breath away. By the time you were fully seated, your thighs pressed against his, you were both panting.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You simply stayed there, enjoying in the connection, the closeness, the way he seemed to fit perfectly inside you. Then, with a soft exhale, you began to move.

It started slow, a gentle rocking of your hips that drew a low moan from him, his fingers digging into your skin. But it didn't stay slow for long. The pace quickened, your movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, as the pleasure built within you. His hips met yours with every thrust, driving him deeper, harder—until the room was filled with the sounds of your mingled gasps and moans.

You could feel it building, that coil of heat tightening in your belly, threatening to snap with every movement. Overwhelmed by the sensation, you dropped your forehead to his, your breath coming in short, ragged pants. "Don't stop baby" you pleaded, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat.

His hands gripped you tighter as he drove into you with renewed fervor

His hands roamed over your body, tracing the curve of your spine, gripping your hips, sliding up to cup your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through you, and you arched into his touch, a moan escaping your lips.

"Look at you.." he murmured, his voice rough. His words sent a flush of heat through you, and you increased your pace, your hips rocking faster, harder, chasing that delicious tension building low in your belly. His hands moved to your hips, guiding you, helping you find that perfect rhythm that had both of you gasping for air.

The room was filled with the sounds of your breathing, the slap of skin against skin, the low, guttural noises neither of you could hold back. His eyes never left yours, the connection between you as intense as the physical pleasure coursing through your bodies. You could feel yourself tightening around him, the coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter, threatening to snap.

"Fu—fuck d-don't stop..." you gasped, your nails digging into his chest as you rode him harder, faster, chasing that sweet oblivion. He obliged, his thrusts meeting yours, each one driving you closer to the edge. And then, with a cry, you shattered—cumming all over his warm dick, your body convulsing around him. He followed seconds later, his own release triggering another spike of ecstasy that left you both trembling, clinging to each other as the aftershocks rippled through your bodies.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. You simply stayed there, breathing in sync, basking in the glow of what you'd just shared. Then, with a soft laugh, you leaned down to press a kiss to his lips, slow and tender.

"Let's go again." you hummed, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat.

"....Guess you can't get enough of me, huh?" he murmured, voice low as he tried to catch his breath, yet the tension in his tone made it clear he was just as eager as you.

Jeezussssss

Check out my Ekko one shots on Wattpad for more stories!! :3

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smileybasics · 1 day ago

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Defending @lil-liaa

I usually don’t post in this blog cause i have other ones but i don’t think this is being fair, me and Lia have been moots for a year and I have seen all her work over the years, I don't know a more creative person than her and I have been with her while she makes her moodboards by call and it is simply impressive the hours she invests in doing it, today I She wrote so devastated and we made a call talking, she has worked on this for so long, I remember how excited she was when she reached 1k, what I mean is that her community and her blog are very important to her, these people are accusing her because three Posts are similar to those of other blogs and that seems stupid to me since you have not even seen her other posts to know if she really makes an effort or not, Lia has made collages, dividers, banners, and a lot of other things, to she is really passionate about digital art and the only time she left her blog was because of the loss of a loved one and the truth is I don't care how many people are going to believe me after this post I just want them to leave her alone, here I am attaching some evidence...

This doesn’t even have so much in common just a three pics, in case you don’t know how moodboards are made, 2 or more colors are taken as a base and the images that best match the tones are searched on Pinterest, not only what she "copied" are just two photos but she also made a divider and a collage

Here’s just pinterest pics (proofs that are from pinterest in keep reading) and again i saw a lot of rude comments towards her that so unfair and hurt feelings cause considering how long Lia has been on her blog it's like invalidating all her hard work!!

In this post she even clarify that the divider isn’t made by her but the collage it is, also it’s just 2 pics that are similar!

This pictures are from pinterest, everyone can use it!

People bullying her

This doesn't just happen on the internet, but in real life, one of Lia's moots simply republished the post where they accused her of copying, she asked him/her why he/her did it so quickly, If they were supposed to be moots, if someone betrays you so quickly without questioning anything, they were never your friend and instead of responding privately she/him made a post just to make her/him moots laugh and the comments are gross, my god it's disgusting, this is directly bullying, if you are a thinking person and if you have ever had some kind of link you should try to talk something privately instead of calling the crazy girl and tagging all your moots so they can laugh, the worst thing is that you can tell that this girl only wants interaction because when she and Lia were chatting she threatened Lia with blocking her but then when Lia blocked her she made another post like "she blocked me" it's like, besides being a treacherous rat you can't have the decency to talk to her about it, Lia has been so nice to everyone but after all, this is where you can see who the ones who truly supported her are, and not the fake friends.

I'm not going to censor his/her username, he deserves it, tumblr is as much as real life, the importance of moots is like friends in real life, because if you want you can just harass someone and all your friends will laugh without question anything.

Also, Lia has a tutorial of a lot of things that she made! If she knows how to do it, why would she steal or copy from other blogs?

She has tutorials of gifs, texts, banners, etc, if she really stole and copy, why she knows how to do it by herself?, and if she knows how to do it by herself she doesn’t even need to stole!

LIKE SHE DIDN’T CARE?! Sorry but this is so wrong, i can tell that, SHE CARES, all these people who are making posts mocking her and calling her crazy because according to them she "copied" three measly posts, when if I were in her place and all my years of work were at stake I would also act like a crazy person because it's worth it, here it is demonstrated clearly her hypocrisy, if Lia wants to defend all her hard work or defend herself from bullying by blocking you she is crazy but if she makes a post explaining everything it seems like she doesn't care, this frustrates me so much

Here more evidence of Lia’s drafts

youtube

Just a few of her drafts

And last but not least I want to give credit to Lia's great work these years, so you can see that there is a true artist behind all this nonsense controversy, here are some of her moodboards, my personal favorites that I can't imagine how much time it would have taken

Extra: “Lia we know it’s you” Don’t acuse me of being Lia, i’m just a real friend

Evidence: Contact of Lia and me

Hi guys, it's come to my attention that someone in the moodboard community known as lil-liaa has been copying / taking heavy "inspo" from other creators like @y-unjins and @iluvrei view more for more info + evidence + my opinions on the whole situation

before i start, i'm not trying to run lil-liaa off the platform nor am i trying to stur up drama, this is just to bring light to the situation as not many people know and many people (including myself) defended her when this first happened, i also want liia to realize that what she's doing isn't right and that she shouldn't just brush off "accusations" like these when there is evidence.

proofs

you can see the similarities as lil-liaa used 3 of the exact same pics as iluvrei's including one edited by the original creator without adding credits to the post.

2nd

here you can instantly tell that the moodboard was copied (lil-liaas on the right being an exact replica of y-unjins), only changing 2 pics excluding the idol change and

3rd / last

lastly, you can see how one lia used the exact same divider (+ didnt give creds), two she uses the same images not only in the moodboard but also in her gif (same pics from y-unjins moodboard including the png)

now, lil-liaa was sent multiple anonymous ask from last year and one recently accusing her of stealing moodboards, although a lot of people defended her last year including me due to the ask having no sorts of proof of moodboards being stolen and no one else speaking on it but now the recent ask she has received included proof and her response to it was very (in my opinion) rude and just sounded like she didn't care.

in my opinion, i don't believe this was just a draft she had premade and i don't believe she somehow got the same exact photos from y-unjins moodboard recommended, i believe since this isnt the first accusation and now there's proof of this i believe she has been copying moodboards since last year when she was accused. i don't believe lil-liaa cares about this, the fact she's stealing from other creators and when she gets called out for it she pushes it off with the same excuses

tags

@miujo @rkkuri @lvioung @ciestial @aeraras @sugarish @gyareii @i-kyujin @daddldee @i-mmaculatus @haerinism @chaeryeos @bloomqi @h-yeoni @p-oisn @bitchey @yeritos @yonkiibums @y-vna @y-urios @fairytopea @shuaver @yeoniis

#Youtube #kpop moodboard #lil-liaa #kpop aesthetic #kpop gg #danielle moodboard #bylilliaa #moodboardcommunity #clean moodboard #new jeans #kpop moots #twice moodboard

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leftoverghosts · 2 days ago

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(challengers)tennisplayer!rafe x manipulativeprotégé!reader

warnings: nsfw!! cunnilingus, rafe f*cks reader in the v*gina with a tennis racket, curse words, obsessive rafe. probably others, so consume at your own discretion!!!! no y/n. not beta read.

nori says: i know that i kept promising this was on the top of my list, but here we finally are!!!! i am going to seek mental help. as always tell me if you like it! xoxoxo

word count: ~2,050?

The afterparty was a blur of lights, laughter, and champagne. You floated through it all, basking in the glow of your victory, the women’s US Open trophy still fresh in your mind. Art, your head coach, had been beaming, his pride unmistakable as he stood on stage and introduced you as “the epitome of tennis.”

Rafe had been there too, of course.

His brooding figure stood in the corner, nursing a drink, and his presence pressed down on you even from across the room.

You noticed him, as you always did, but chalked up his silence to his second-place finish in the men’s division—a tough pill to swallow for someone as fiercely competitive as him.

When you both retreated to your hotel suite, the atmosphere did not lighten.

Rafe's body leaned against the doorframe, arms tightly crossed over his chest as his gaze followed your every move. You could feel a dark energy pulsating off of him, unrelenting and dangerous.

“You’ve been quiet all night,” you said lightly, trying to cut through the tension. “Come on, baby, second place at the US Open? That’s huge.”

He scoffed, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. “Don’t patronize me.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I’m not—”

“You don’t get it, do you?” he cut in, his voice sharp as a knife. “Jumping into Art’s arms like a goddamn bitch in heat. Do you have any idea how that looked?”

His words sliced through the glow of your win. “Rafe, I was excited. You know how hard coach and I have worked for this. It wasn’t about—”

“Not about me?” he interrupted, his tone bitter. “It’s never about me, is it? Not with Art breathing down my neck, not with Tashi looking at me like I’m some charity case, and definitely not with you parading around like any-fucking-body can just touch you.”

His voice dripped with bitterness, leaving you momentarily speechless. "That's not fair," you responded, your tone softer now. "We’ve all been by your side this whole time—especially me." It was true; you were a media darling, and Tashi had strategically sacrificed some of that adoration to clean up after Rafe and his wild, drug-induced behavior on multiple occasions.

“Have you?” he challenged, stepping closer until the space between you felt suffocating. “Because it sure as hell didn’t feel that way when you ran past me to hug Art after your win—like I was nothing. Just another loser in your storybook ending.”

“Rafe, stop,” you said firmly, though your voice wavered. “You’re twisting a simple hug into something it’s not.”

He didn’t stop. Instead, he closed the distance, his eyes locking onto yours with an ferocity that made your pulse quicken. “You don’t get it, do you?” he murmured, his voice dropping to something darker, quieter.

Before you could react, he moved. His hands gripped your waist, and in one swift motion, he pushed you onto the bed.

The world tilted as your back hit the mattress, the bounce jarring you. You barely had time to catch your breath before he loomed over you, his jaw clenched, his stormy eyes drilling into yours.

“You really didn’t think, did you?” he was simmering with anger.

“Rafe—” you started, but he cut you off, his hand pressing into the bed beside you, caging you in.

“Don’t,” he snapped, his face so close you could feel the heat of his breath. “Don’t say my name like that. Like you didn’t spend the whole night pretending I don’t exist.”

“That’s not what I was doing,” you said quickly, your chest tightening. “I see you, Rafe. More than you realize.”

“Then why the fuck do you make me feel like this?” he demanded, his voice raw and breaking.

He pulled back slightly, his hand brushing over your waist as if searching for control. “You let Art touch you,” he muttered, his voice trembling with restrained fury. “You let him claim you in front of everyone.”

Your stomach soured. “Art is my coach, Rafe. He’s like a father to me.”

“I don’t care,” he snapped, his voice cracking. “He looks at you like you belong to him. And you let him.”

You stared up at him, trying to keep irritation from bleeding into your tone. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” he shot back, his eyes blazing. “Because I want to kill him for touching what’s mine.”

The intensity of his words sent a shiver down your spine. You weren’t naive, nor were you the ‘good girl’ Art Donaldson thought you were. You’d been recruited onto his team by Tashi, who saw you for who you really were—her protégé. You, your little skirt and your overwhelming talent, were as much there to breathe life into Art Donaldson’s ego as you were for Tashi to watch you play some damn good tennis.

What’s more, you knew how Art felt about you.

Rafe wasn’t crazy—at least not about this. But you couldn’t let him have control. You couldn’t let Tashi, the reason you’d even picked up this sport in the first place, and her preaching about men being tools to wield, down. So, as much as Rafe’s emotions and obsession weighed on you, a strange joy stirred inside you from knowing you held the power to provoke his protective nature.

“Let me make it up to you,” you said softly, your voice smooth and placating. You were frustrated that he hadn’t brought home a trophy today, but with a little encouragement, he might still find his way. He might not land a career Grand Slam, but Tashi had once told you that, in the long run, if he were your husband, it was better for him to be a champion than not. “Let me make you feel good. I’m yours, Rafe. No one else can claim that.”

He froze, his gaze mellowing just slightly before the anger surged again. “Prove it,” he murmured, stepping back to gather the things he was going to use to torment you.

Terror and arousal coiled together in your stomach as you waited, your pulse thundering in your ears.

"Close your eyes," he commanded, and you snapped them shut, hearing him approach.

With expert hands, Rafe pulled you by the legs towards the edge of the bed and hiked up your cocktail dress. His fingers, adorned with his signature rings, trailed along your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine as goosebumps rose on your heated skin. He parted your legs and settled between them, his broad shoulders forcing them open even wider.

His fingers brushed over your lace panties, the delicate material already damp with your arousal. He traced the lacy edge, teasing, before hooking a finger under and pulling the flimsy barrier aside. Cool air kissed your exposed flesh and you whimpered, squirming against the rumpled sheets.

"Stay still," Rafe commanded.

You froze, breath catching as he explored your body, gliding through the evidence of your desire. Slowly and torturously, he circled your entrance with a thick digit, teasing and drawing out the aching need within you before finally pushing deep inside. His mouth descended on you, tongue swirling around your sensitive bud as he sucked it between his lips.

Your back arched off the bed as he hummed low in his throat, sending vibrations rippling through you.

A second finger joined the first, stretching you deliciously as his tongue continued to flick relentlessly over your clit, grazing it lightly with his teeth before circling it with the tip of his tongue in electrifying patterns that had you gasping and writhing.

"Rafe," you moaned, hips bucking against his face. In response, his other hand gripped your thigh, holding you still, open and exposed to his hungry mouth.

He worked you mercilessly, fingers pumping, twisting in just the right way to make your thighs quake. His tongue swirled and flicked, alternating between feather-light brushes and firm, focused pressure that had you seeing stars.

The pressure built tighter and tighter in your stomach.

"Oh God, Rafe," you whimpered, hands fisting the bedspread. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth working you over filled the room.

He released your clitoris with a lewd pop. "That's it, baby. Let me hear you, I want the whole fucking hotel to know who's making you feel this good."

You were startled by the sudden sound of a condom being ripped open, and your heart thumped even faster with anticipation. Then, you felt something hard and sleek against your entrance. Bewildered, you opened your eyes and reached out to grab the object—your beloved tennis racket handle covered in a condom.

“Didn’t I explicitly instruct you to stay still?" He pushed your hand away with a swat. "You thought you could manipulate me with your sweet words and I would give in, didn't you?” He spat on your entrance for extra lubrication, shaking his head at you. "You're going to take this."

After a moment, you nodded your consent, but the sensations were unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

Rafe took his time, gently working the makeshift dildo in and out. He started slowly, letting you adjust to the unique shape and size, before gradually increasing his speed.

Your body quivered with delight as he angled the handle to stimulate your most sensitive areas. The condom covering the racket provided a smooth glide, allowing Rafe to thrust powerfully while still being careful. His other hand roamed your curves, leaving trails of tingling heat behind each touch

The stretch and fullness was divine. Soft moans escaped your lips with each plunge of the handle. Rafe groaned appreciatively at the erotic sight of the improvised toy disappearing into your depths again and again.

Rafe worked the racket handle further and faster, the ribbed grip plunging in and out of your dripping center, the friction bordering on overwhelming. You gasped and arched your back at the intense stimulation, hands gripping the bedsheets.

"That's it, take it all," he laughed. "Art could never fuck you like this, could he? I bet he fantasizes about pounding your tight little pussy with his wrinkled cock."

You could only moan in response, the vulgar words sending a twisted thrill through you as he violated you with the very tool of your trade. It felt so wrong but so incredibly good at the same time.

He chuckled darkly. "Old man probably can't even get it up anymore."

You shook your head, lost in the forcefulness of the sensations consuming your body. Art was the furthest thing from your mind right now.

"And what about Tashi, huh? You let her touch you like this? She’d love to shove her fingers in your greedy hole, make you her little bitch."

"N-no, only you Rafe," you choked out between moans, the crude language still heightening your arousal.

"Damn right. This pussy belongs to me." To punctuate his point, he bullied the handle in hard, burying it to the hilt.

Filthy wet sounds filled the room as Rafe set a ruthless pace, fucking your tender flesh with brutal thrusts. Your inner walls fluttered and clenched around the hard shaft, drawing it impossibly deeper.

"Shit, look at you, I bet you wish the cameras were here now. Let everyone see the women's champion getting off on her own racket like a desperate whore."

His thumb found your clit, rubbing unforgiving circles as the handle slammed into you.

"Art and Tashi can praise you all they want," he said lowly, possessively. "But never forget that I'm the only one who can wreck you like this."

With a few more well-timed prods, your body was overcome with ecstasy. Tears streamed down your face as you called out Rafe's name, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. He continued to work the tennis racket in and out of you, prolonging your orgasm for his own amusement.

As the aftershocks subsided, you collapsed. Rafe delicately discarded the handle and repositioned you so your head dangled over the edge. The sound of his pants unzipping echoed through the room as he freed himself.

He stroked, once, twice, then tapped his erection on your tear-streaked cheek to get your attention.

You struggled to focus on his expression— that maddening smirk.

"Open up, slut."

105 notes · View notes

shesoutofhere · 3 days ago

Text

With Perfection Comes Obsession

Hockey James Potter x Figure Skater Reader

Summary- You're back in the rink, training for a medal you lost out on the year before. Nothing is going to get in your way this year. Or so you think.

Warnings- Description of a panic attack, Unhealthy habits

Wordcount- 10k

Translation: Lapin - Rabbit

Ignore all typos <3

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

Spin

“Again”

Spin

“Again

Spin

“Again”

You hit the ice just as aggressively as you did the time before that. You're finding it hard to breathe and everything aches.

“Again Lapin!”

You pump your legs, moving them fast and hard. You're mid-jump when you hear the shrieking of the arena buzzer. Thrown off, your footing is off and you fall to your knees.

You hear your coach scoff, moving to get off the ice. You get up, wincing at the sting in your knees, that’ll be a nasty bruise.

When you walk off the ice, Coach hands you your blade covers. You mentally prepare yourself for the lecture you’ll receive when you return to the locker room.

You feel a tight grip on your arm. Okay, looks like you’ll get your lecture right here.

“Lapin, If you get distracted by a buzzer, what makes you think you’ll be fine in an arena full of people? Have you learned nothing from your last performance?”

She asks you questions but doesn’t give you time to respond, she immediately cuts in. “And your jumps, how is it that you haven’t managed to master your jumps? You are well past the age to be scared of falling. Your hesitation will cost you this title.”

Silence falls over the both of you, Coach has her hands on her sides and just stares. You know what she's doing. She’s thinking of how you’ll be punished for this oh-so-horrible performance today.

“Tomorrow you will march yourself to the management office and ask for an extended time.”

Your eyes go wide, “Coach, they’ll never give me more time. And what about my professors? They’re already at their wits end with me being gone all the time.”

Coach’s eyes sharpen, “I’m sorry, have your priorities changed? Am I wasting your time Lapin? Cause if that’s the case then say so, and may we be free of this doomed partnership.”

You cower under her stare, “No, no of course not Coach, I’ll talk to management tomorrow and see what deal I can work up with my professors.”

Pleased with the conversation going her way, Coach smiles. “Good, I’ll see you soon.”

With that, she saunters off, reaching for her phone to call god knows who.

When you’re sure she’s out of eyesight you slump down onto the bench next to you. You close your eyes and take a minute to finally catch your breath. You bring your hand to your chest, hoping to alleviate some of the tightness and discomfort.

The bench shakes and you hear something hit the ground with a thud. You open one eye and close it again when you see who it is who’s disturbed your peace.

“How oh how will you ever convince management to give you any more practice time?”

You sigh, hoping that if you ignore the nuisance next to you, he’ll get the hint and leave you alone.

“They won’t even give the team extra time, let alone one person.”

You open your eyes and turn to look at the boy sitting next to you. “I can be very persuasive.”

James, who’s lacing up his skates, mumbles a quiet “Don’t I know it.”

You stand up and gather your things. “Who Knows James, win some games and maybe you’ll get the extra time you need.”

James pauses his movement, looking up at you with a deadly glare.

It’s a sore subject and you know it. After Peter Pettigrew, one of the university's star players decided to transfer, James and the rest of the team have been dethroned. They’ve known no peace since then and are grappling with everything to win this season.

James turns back to his laces. “Hey and maybe if you learn to stop being so skittish on the ice, you’ll land that jump for once Lapin.”

This is why you’ll never feel bad for being so hostile toward James. He’s a wolf in sheep's clothing and you lose your mind every day knowing that everybody has fallen for his golden boy act.

You throw your bag over your shoulder, swatting at the back of James' head on your way out of the arena.

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

You’re pacing back and forth in front of the management office. You’ve gone over every possible excuse that could convince them to give you more time. You will convince them, or Coach will have your head on a platter. You’ll butter up the sweet old lady who works the front desk, you’ll dazzle her, and she’ll sign whatever she needs to.

With one final pep talk, you walk into the office and freeze at the door.

Shit.

It’s not the sweet old lady.

Sitting at the front desk is Remus Lupin. ‘This is fine’ you try to convince yourself.

You saunter up to the desk “Good morning Remus, you look fantastic today, do anything different with your hair?”

Remus puts his book down, looking up with a sweet smile, “No, did the same thing I always do. How can I help you?”

You lean onto the counter and start messing with the pen jar. “You, my love, can sign off on my extra ice time.” you choose not to make eye contact, continuing to swivel the pens around the jar.

Remus sighs, dragging your name out, “You know I can’t approve any more time for you, the school won’t allow it.”

You stomp your foot out of habit, “ But Remus, I got all my professors to give me as many extensions as I need, really all I need is for you to say yes.”

Remus, always bursting your bubble, “It’s not about class love, It’s about your health. You know how the system works.”

You groan and bring your head down onto the counter. You knew this would be your biggest obstacle. All athletes have to adhere to certain rules. The university claims that it’s to protect the athlete's health but everyone knows it's so they don’t get backlash for overworking their student-athletes. You're allotted a certain amount of hours but anything over that has to be flagged and reported.

“Listen,” Your head shoots up, “I can maybe convince them to a lot you a bit more time, but you’ve got to go to your physical therapy sessions. Doc has to report when you don’t show you know.”

“Okay yes, fine, I pinky promise that I will see Doc, and stretch and stay off the ice for 30 minutes after eating, and-”

Remus cuts you off with a laugh, “Okay, okay I get it. I’ll talk to the board and see what I can do.”

You squeal, reaching over the counter to smack a kiss on Remus’s forehead. “You are a lifesaver Remus Lupin.”

Remus just shakes his head, “Yeah yeah, whatever, get out of here.”

You happily skip out of the office, so happy, that not even running into James Potter in his gear could upset you.

You offer a simple “James” and go to walk past him.

“Woah, what's got you all happy?”

You give him a sly smile, “Oh nothing, I’m just having a lovely morning.”

James furrows his brows at you, “Okayyy. Was Rem in the office?”

You nod at him, “Yes, my sweet, beautiful, lovely Remus is in there. How he’s friends with the lot of you, I’ll never understand.”

James is insulted but is weirded out more than anything.

Not caring to interact any further you wave goodbye.

James, still confused, continues into the office.

You don’t get far down the before James is yelling your name down the hallway. You roll your eyes, continuing on your way. You hear thumping and there’s a yank on your wrist.

You yelp out of surprise. James without a word is dragging you back towards the office. You both enter and Remus is shaking his head.

You rip your wrist out of James' grip, “I’d like that back thank you.”

You smile at Remus, “Hi love, so good to see you again.”

“Likewise.”

James snaps his fingers, “Quit it you two, Remus just told me you’re getting more time on the ice.”

“Why yes I am. I told you James, do better at your sport and good things come your way.”

“Guys please don’t start. I don’t want to have to kick you out again,” Remus says.

James disregards your insult, “You can’t get more time, you’re already maxed out on hours, they’ll never approve it.”

You shake your head in faux symphony “Oh James, I told you I was very persuasive.”

This seems to bring his attention back to his friend. “You” he points a finger aggressively toward Remus’s direction, “How could you say yes? You're the iron wall, no one shakes you down.”

Remus gives a weak shrug, “Okay, I wasn’t shaken down, we made a deal”

James rolls his eyes, “Oh yeah, and what was that?”

“She’ll see Doc, every appointment, she has to go.”

James looks confused. “How is that a deal? It's protocol.”

“Wellll” Remus drags.

The look on James’ face darkens. His attention is on you now. “You don’t see the Doc?”

You try not to be intimidated by his glare. “I just don’t see the point of seeing him after every practice. I mean come on, my body is my instrument, of course, I know how to take care of it.”

Whatever lightness was in the air, is gone now. James is genuinely upset and you can’t wrap your head around why.

“Are you kidding me, so what, you’ve just been skipping out on all your appointments?”

All you can do is shrug. Remus, who can sense the shift in the atmosphere, tries to intervene. “Look, I don’t even know if it’s a guarantee, I still have to ask the board.”

Your heart drops. “No. I need the time. You said you’d get me the time.”

Remus, who has unfortunately been caught in both James and your fury, doesn't know how to turn this conversation around.

“And what about your work, do you even go to class anymore?”

“I’m doing great in all my classes.”

“That doesn't answer whether you're going.”

“What does it matter? Virtual or not, It’s only until after the competition.”

James takes his glasses off and rubs at his forehead like he’s trying to ward off an oncoming headache. “So, just like that, you get the time, extensions on school work, and a pass from all the appointments you missed with Doc.”

You sigh, “I don’t get it James, are you jealous, is that what it is?”

This strikes a nerve in James. “You think that's what this is about?”

“Well” you throw your hands up, “what else could be?”

James puts his glasses back on and steps up to you, “You know what, if you want to overwork yourself and fuck up any chance you get at the actual competition, go ahead, seems like everyone is right behind you.” with that, James storms out the office.

Remus walks out from behind the desk and gives a light squeeze to your shoulder, “I don’t understand why you two work each other up so much.”

“He’s wrong,” you say quietly. Remus listens. “I’m better than I’ve ever been. I need this Remus, I need to win this. I need to show everyone that I can do it.”

Remus, with a sad look in his eyes, pulls you in for a hug. “Everyone knows you can, you’re amazing.”

You sigh and pull away. “It doesn’t matter how good I am, all everyone sees now is the girl who messed up last year. All my hard work was reduced to one stupid mistake. I have to get it right this time.”

Remus just sighs, he’s seen this version of you before, and he doesn’t like where it’s going.

He grabs you by the shoulders, “Promise that you’ll go to Doc.”

“Promise that you’ll get me my time.”

He sticks out his pinky, encouraging you to lock yours with his. You do.

“Thank Rem”

“Don’t make me regret love.”

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

To everyone's surprise, the board does accept your request for additional time. You're ecstatic. Coach won’t show it but you know she’s semi-impressed.

With the new time, the ending of your practice marked the beginning of the kid's ice class. Every time you did any sort of jump or spin you could hear a dozen little aws and wows.

You felt fantastic, Coach was in a decent mood, and practice was long but the scary women had minimal feedback. For the first time in a long time, you felt on top of the world.

“Okay, that’s enough for today.”

You walk off the ice, putting your guards on. Coach gives you final pointers and is out of the building before you can say bye.

You sat on the bench, undoing the laces of your skates when a group of the girls from before comes up to you. They flutter around you, asking all sorts of questions and giving endless praises. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t feel your heart swell with pride and joy.

You're talking about costumes when you hear your name being called. Standing towards the entryway are Doc and James.

You knew this day was going to well, you had forgotten that today was your scheduled appointment with Doc. As for James, every time you see him your day is ruined. The two of you hadn’t spoken since the whole incident in the office. Remus had tried to get the both of you to make amends but neither of you had the intention of doing so.

You put your slipper on and make your way over to pair.

“Hey remember me? Long time no see.” You know Doc is trying to be silly but your heart beating faster at the mere thought of having to get checked up.

The bespectacled figure clears his throat. “Haven't you heard Doc, our ice princess got more ice time so she's been pretty busy.”

You cross your arms. Reaching a hand to rest on your sternum, feeling a slight tug at every breath you take.

Doc disregards James petty comment, immediately picking up on your discomfort. “You okay?”

James looks puzzled, glancing back and forth between the two of you, looking for whatever he missed.

You shrug. “Yeah, it's just, well..you know.” Doc just nods.

“Know what?” James blurts out. From the look on his face, you can tell that he didn't mean to say that out loud.

You frown, “It’s nothing.”

“It’s clearly something.”

“Okay, well it’s none of your business is it.”

“OKAY,” Doc yells, cutting both of you off. “James I’ll do what we talk about, now move along.”

James lingers for a bit before he finally walks off.

“Now you” Doc starts, “Shall come with me.”

You know that there isn’t any way to avoid this and follow right behind him.

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

Doc makes small talk throughout your checkup. You give replies, trying your best not to come off like you don’t want to be there.

You’re in the middle of doing a stretch when Doc says “So, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?”

You lay on your back and bring a knee up to your chest, staring up at the ceiling. “Do we have to?”

Doc hums, “I think we should.”

You bring your leg down and lift the other to your chest “Okay, well then I guess.”

Doc stands at your side and offers a hand to bring you up from the ground. You sit on the ground and Doc sits in front of you. “I need you to know that what I did, was not only part of my job as your doctor but as someone who cares deeply for you lot.”

You fidget with your fingers as Doc continues. “And I had to report the appointments that you were missing. I know you guys like to joke around with me but I am a healthcare provider before anything else and you can loathe me all you want but know my actions are never meant to harm you.”

Ugh, you feel like such an asshole now. “I don’t hate you Doc, I know you're just doing your job. I think-” you pause, trying to gather your thoughts, “I think in my head If I didn’t do my checkups, there wouldn’t be anyone to tell me that something could potentially be wrong.”

Doc nods, and you continue “I should’ve listened to you back then, with or without the jump I would've lost anyway.” You say with a sad smile. “This time has to be different, I have to land that jump, I have to win this one.”

Doc gives you an odd look. “I’ll be watching you like a hawk, you need to take care of yourself. I won’t watch you hurt yourself for this again, will you hate me then?”

You feel your body stiffen, you need this, so you think you might.

“I mean it when I say this one is mine this year.” you have never been more serious in your life.

“Oh trust me, I believe you.”

It doesn’t have to be said, but you think that you and Doc might be a bit further apart than before.

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

You’re counting down the weeks. The competition is getting closer with each day that passes. You’ve spent more time at the arena over the past couple of weeks than you have in your dorm.

Practice isn’t until later today, but you ambushed Remus when he was walking into the rink this morning.

Now here you are, skating freely in the dimly lit rink. Remus gets horrible migraines and chooses to leave the lights off for as long as he can.

You glide across the rink, twisting and turning whenever you please. Some time has passed when you come to a stop. All you can hear is the sound of your labored breath. You do your breathing techniques, trying your best to regulate your heartbeat.

Your nerves spike back up when you see James skating towards you and feel speed.

He halts right in front of you. “Are you okay?”

All you can do is nod, not being able to form words quite yet. James doesn’t say anything else for a while. He watches and waits as you catch your breath.

When you seem to have calmed down he jumps to question you. “What on earth was that?”

You shrug, “I just got a bit winded I guess.” He blinks at you, “That's not the first time it happened though.”

James, always so annoyingly inquisitive.

“I’m fine James, where the hell did you come from anyway? The rink isn’t open yet.”

You both kick into a slow skate around the rink. “That's rich, considering you’re here too. Also, you forget that Remus is one of my best friends.”

“How could I forget, you remind me every time I interact with him.”

“Well, that's because I can’t seem to understand what hold you’ve got over him. He folds instantly when it comes to you. You know I had to beg him for 20 minutes to let me in.”

You give a triumphant smile, “Remus and I have a bond that exceeds any and all relationship types, I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

James scowls, ‘Stop talking about your special bond with Remus.”

“Jealous?”

“No!” James responded a bit too quickly. “More like deeply disturbed.”

“Not as disturbing as you and Sirius,” you say, skating a bit faster to get ahead of him.

“Hey! Don’t bring Sirius into this.”

You tsk, “So quick to defend his honor. Tell him I’m still waiting on our date by the way.”

“Oh please, Sirius goes on dates with anything that moves so don’t hold your breath.” Whatever honor and respect James had for his best friend earlier is out the window.

You hum, not offering him a real response. James, changing the subject, “Was that a routine earlier?”

“A routine with no music?” you ask sarcastically.

James rolls his eyes, “I'm just asking because it looked familiar.”

Familiar? Why would it look familiar?

“Spend your days off watching figure skating routines?” you say as you skate backward in front of him.

He shakes his head, “No, just yours.” he doubles down quickly, “Well cause, we skate at the same rink and all that.”

It’s too late, what he’s said has already gone to your head. You bring a hand to your heart mockingly, “The James Potter, Hockey legend, watches my routines. What an honor.”

James makes a face at you, “Oh whatever, forget I said anything.”

You continue “I can’t believe I am skating with James Potter.” you say as you skate around him.

James can’t help but laugh. “Okay quit it you’re gonna make me dizzy. God knows how you spin the way you do without throwing up.”

You continue at his side. “Years and years of practice.”

“So, the routine, what's it from?”

You let out a long sigh, “It was bits and pieces from my finals routine last year.”

James says a quiet ‘oh’

“Mhm” is all you can offer back.

“I was there, you know?” James fidgets with his glasses. “Well, I mean, me and the whole team—half of the university, really.”

This shocks you. You knew a lot of peers and locals from your university town showed overwhelming support, but for some reason, knowing James was there makes you…happy?

“Well, you picked the worst one to turn up to.” You try to make a light-hearted joke, but it doesn’t work.

James comes to a stop on the ice. You stop with him. “You really scared everyone.”

You scoff, “More like disappointed everyone.”

“No” James replies sharply, “I can assure you that no one in that arena was disappointed and you’ve got to stop thinking that.”

You feel an argument brewing. “And what about you James? What did you feel? Please share with the gallery.”

“I-” he pauses for a second. “I was scared too, and then I was angry.”

“Angry?”

He nods, “Angry. I was angry at you. I was angry that you’d attempt to do something so-”

He cuts himself off, trying to restrain himself.

“Something so what James? Go on say it” You egg him on.

He yanks his glasses off his face, a habit he has when he’s frustrated. “Fine! Something so stupid. I couldn’t, for the life of me wrap my head around why you would purposely do something so stupid.” James doesn’t stop there. “I couldn’t understand why you would disregard Doc's orders. I was angry that you had such little regard for yourself and your body.” James throws his hands up,” and all for what?”

You clench your fist tight at your side. You feel the anger flare up inside you. “All for what?” you laugh bitterly. “Is that how you see what I do?”

James doesn’t respond. His silence only angers you more. “I did what I thought was necessary okay? I worked too hard all last year to just give it up. I made a mistake, I understand that, and I have spent every moment since then trying to make it up.”

You inch closer towards James, “Do you know how humiliating it is to have all my hard work be reduced down to one single mistake? I am perfect my whole career but the second I have one slip-up I'm stripped of all my wins, all my medals. Everything I’ve worked for, completely disregarded.”

James stares at you with wide eyes. “Is this what this is about? About ruining your perfect reign? Do you know how insane that sounds?”

You groan, “I could hold my tongue hearing this from anyone else, but you of all people James, Seriously? You are such a hypocrite.”

James glares at you. “And what exactly are you alluding to?”

“You,” you say, shoving a finger in his chest, “are a hypocrite. You think I don’t see what you’ve been doing. Ever since Pete left you have been overcompensating, trying to fill a role all by yourself. The late night and early morning practices. Taking on extra responsibility on the ice. Spreading yourself thin to make it to nationals.

“That’s different.”

You laugh “How on earth is different James?” you can't believe this guy.

“It’s different because It’s temporary until we find someone else. It’s different because I take care of myself. It’s different because it’s a whole team of us that care about each other. Yeah, I'm stepping up right now but I can always step back and rely on the guys if I need to. You, however, have..well you just don’t..” he sighs, “you’re alone.”

You back up from him, “You’re unbelievable.” you start skating to exit the rink. You hear James call after you. “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Whatever James, just leave me alone.”

“Would you just let me explain?” he desperately calls out. You swivel around the ice quickly, turning to face him. You have a snarky remark to give but it's out the window when James fully runs into you. Before both of you can catch yourselves, you both fall onto the ice.

You yelp out in pain when James falls right onto your foot. He’s off of you quickly. “Holy shit are you okay?”

You don’t answer, attempting to stand up. When you put pressure on your right foot, a sharp pain shoots through your ankle. James must see the pain in your face, “I'm so sorry I didn’t think you were going to stop. Let me help you back.”

You shake him off, “No it’s fine, I’m fine.” you go to kick off the ice and the pain brings you to your knees. James reaches for you but you push his hands away.

No no no, this can’t be happening. You feel your heart start to pick up. You can barely hear James over the ringing in your ear. You stand up one more time, pushing off with your left leg this time. You make it somewhere but when you push off your right leg out of habit you double over in pain.

You hear James grimace from behind you. “Alright, that's enough.” James wraps your arm over his shoulder and takes most of your weight. You can’t deny him, having no other way to get off the ice. He glides the both of you to the exit. The second your feet reach the matted floors you push away from him and limp to the nearest bench. You're pulling and tugging at your laces aggressively. When your skate is loose enough you yank your foot out, crying out in pain. You roll your sock down both you and James gasp. You throw the skate that’s in your hand.

You bring your hands to your eyes, feeling that annoying sting. “Fuck!” This is not happening. You did not just ruin your chances for this year because of one little accident.

“I have to get Remus.” you grip James' wrist stopping him in his tracks. “Absolutely not!”

James tries to pull his wrist from you but you bring your other hand to grab at it. “Don’t say anything, please. I promise I’m fine.” James looks at you bewildered, “Are you insane? Your ankle is purple.”

“I bruise easily. I promise it's fine.”

“Walk on it.”

What. “What?”

James shrugs, “Walk on it. Walk from here to those bleachers.”

You go stand up, his eyes never leaving you. You take your first step and feel the same sharp pain you flinch but take your next step. You take step after step, pushing through the blinding pain. You make it to the bleachers and turn to face James. “See, it’s fine.”

James stares at you in disbelief. He walks up to you “You are unbelievable.” He grits out.

James leaves without saying anything else. Leaving you in the dark arena.

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

It’s been three days. You managed to convince Coach to give you time off, telling her that you had some projects to catch up on. Pleased with your recent performance, she reluctantly granted you some free time. No practice meant no Doc visits. Three days and radio silence from James. You were so sure that he would've said something to someone by now but you aren't called in for any meeting or evaluations.

Three days later and your ankle is still purple and throbbing. You’ve taken way too many painkillers for it to be safe but it’s your first day back and you have to act like you feel fine.

You walk into the building. You put on a smile and are prepared to give the best performance of your lifetime. Coach is already standing by the ice. You go towards the locker rooms but you stop when she yells your name.

She looks annoyed when you walk up to her. “Hey Coach”

She puts her phone down. “Look, they are cutting into your time today because they have to get the ice ready for the game tonight. I’m going to need you to do a quick warm-up and get right into running the routine. Jumps and all.”

You nod, “Yes ma’am.”

You put your bag down on the bench and start getting ready. You’re lacing up your skates when you hear a chorus of laughter. You lift your head to see James, Remus, and Sirius all chit-chatting while exiting the office hallway. Sirius catches your eye and you’re too slow to look away. He’s caught you.

“Lapin!”

Oh god.

You hear them make their way over.

“Where have you been? We haven’t seen you in ages.”

You yank tightly at your laces and wrap them around your ankle. “Oh don’t exaggerate. It was only three days.”

Sirius scoffs, slouching down onto the bench next to you. “Yeah, that’s forever for you. I feel like lately you’ve been here every day.” you roll your eyes at him.

“I had schoolwork to catch up on.”

Remus hums, “Look at you. Working hard.”

You lean back on the bench. “What can I say? Anyway, I’m back. Try not to stare too hard Sirius.”

Sirius' shoulder bumps you. “Hey, what about Remus?”

You stand up, “You my darling.” pointing a finger at Remus. “Can stare as long and hard as you’d like to.”

There is a slight tinge of pink on Remus’s face but he laughs it off. “Quit you two.”

Your attention turns to James clearing his throat. This whole time he hadn’t said anything, just staring at you, analyzing your every move.

The two of you stare at each other, tension thick in the air. He drags his eyes slowly down your body. Any other person would think he has no shame but you know it’s nothing like that. You know exactly what he’s looking for. James' eyes linger on your ankle, mostly hidden by your skates.

James tilts his head, “Hmm”

Sirius and Remus, having no idea what's going on, simply stand there.

“Hmm? That’s all you're gonna say?”

Jamea shrugs. “What else is there to say? Everythings fine.”

For the past three days you’ve done nothing but worry about James snitching on you. It’s brought you nothing but stress and anxiety. Why hasn’t he said anything?

You open your mouth to say something. “Yeah sure everythi-”

“Lapin! On the ice. Now!”

James continues staring at you. If he thinks you’re going to crack, he’s going to be waiting for the rest of the day.

You walk away with as much ease and poise as you can.

The pain in your foot isn’t gone. You’ve got a purple bump to prove it but you’ve taken enough pain meds to hold off some of the pain for now. You skate around the ice, warming up. Every time you kick off you feel the twinging pain but do your best to ignore it. Coach doesn’t let you warm up for long.

“Lapin, run the routine.”

You’re heart drops, you didn’t think she’d get straight into it but she must want to take advantage of the time you had on the ice.

You take a deep breath, already feeling the normal burning sensation in your lungs. You get into position. You steady yourself into your starting pose. You lock eyes with James. They’re all leaning onto barriers. Neither of you breaks eye contact. Finally, you hear the starting notes of your music and begin. You kick off beautifully, moving across the rink in a matter of seconds. You glide elegantly across the ice. The music begins to swell, the first jump is coming up. You breathe in, brace yourself, and jump. You spin, almost landing perfectly. There is a bit of wobble but nothing you can't make up in the next couple of jumps. You continue your program. You jump again. Spinning and landing. This one is perfect, no wobble. You keep moving, swelling with pride. You can’t see anyone but the lack of yelling lets you know that Coach is somewhat satisfied with the jumps. You push on, beginning to feel the pain in your foot. You ignore it as best you can. It’s when you're landing your third jump that the pain shoots up through your ankle. It leaves you breathless for a second but you compose yourself. You skate, you skate and skate and skate until you hear yelling over the music.

“Get her off the ice right now!”

You bring yourself to a stop. You look over to the commotion and see the coach with Doc. Standing right next to both of them is James.

You stay on the ice, trying to catch your breath.

It’s Coach's turn to yell at you. “Lapin, come here right this instance.”

Your heart continues beating quickly. You make your way over and when you're at the exit, Coach is pulling you by the arm, heading straight for the benches.

“Sit.”

You look between her and Doc, you can’t even bear to look at James.

“What on Earth is going on?!”

“Take your skates off!”

“Excuse me?”

“Skates. Off. Now.”

You reach to slowly start untying your skates. It doesn’t matter how slow you move. They all sit and wait.

Once they’re both off Doc kneels and reaches for your ankles immediately.

“Woah what the hell are you doing?”

“Which one James?”

Your head snaps towards James. You’re caught, you know it, but if James says something now you’ll hate him for the rest of your life.

James must see it in your face. He’s silent for a second.

“Which one is James? I'm not going to ask again.”

James looks away and answers. “The right one.”

Without another second wasted, Doc is yanking your sock down, revealing a swollen purple ankle. Both Doc and Coach gasp.

“Lapin, what the hell were you thinking?”

You scramble to save this. “It’s not as bad as it looks! I promise!”

You look between Coach and Doc and all you see is pure disappointment. Coach runs a hand through her hair.

“Why? Why are you so adamant about hurting yourself? Do you not realize that you could mess this up beyond repair. What will you do then?”

Your eyes start to sting and you feel them watering up. “I didn’t mean to. It was a stupid accident.”

“Well, that’s exactly my point. You are a star athlete. What are you doing having stupid accidents? You are meant to be taking care of yourself.”

You feel the tears begin to fall. “Oh, now you care? Where was this lecture when you let me skate last year? Or how about all the times I skipped my appointments? How many appointments did you let go unattended? How many times did you look the other way?”

You stare at your coach in anger and she looks right back at you with a look you can’t place.

Doc cuts in. “We need to get it checked out.” You go to stand up and Doc tries to help you immediately. “You really shouldn’t be walking on it.”

“I’ve been doing it just fine.”

Doc shakes his head and reaches to help again. “I mean it. I don’t want you walking on it. James can you come hel-”

You cut him off immediately. “Absolutely not. I said I’m fine. I can walk by myself.”

Realizing that he can’t stop you, Doc lets you start making your way to his office. James follows behind immediately, calling you names. You ignore him but he won’t stop. He grabs your arm. You hear him quietly beg “Please, can you just listen.”

You yank your arm out of his grasp. “I never want to hear from you again, James Potter. I hate you.” you spit out venomously. James displays a clear look of hurt. You leave him there, making your way down the hall alone.

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

After a thorough investigation, Doc diagnoses you with a bad sprain. It would have been fine if you had sought medical help immediately, or so he says. You don’t speak if you don’t have to, only offering quiet yes’s and no’s.

Doc is finishing up when you do finally speak a full sentence. “When am I cleared to skate again?”

Doc sighs, like who knew the question was coming. “Well, that’ll be up to you.”

He moves around the room, gathering things for your kit while speaking. “You wanna get better fast, you’re gonna have to take care of that ankle.” he walks over, handing you the kit and paperwork. “That means no agitating it, no skating, and definitely no competition.”

You knew this was coming but hearing it breaks your heart. You feel your eyes start to water again.

“Look,” Doc starts. “I'm really sorry. I knew how much this meant to you.” His words go in one ear and out the other. You silently stand up and grab all your things. You can’t bear to be in this rink anymore. You reach for the newly prescribed crutches and adjust yourself. Doc watches silently. You whisper a quiet thank you and goodbye. You make your way out of the building, trying your best to ignore all the stares. The rink, now busy with people waiting for the upcoming game.

Everyone pushes to get in when you want nothing more than to get out. Every look you receive is filled with pity that you don’t want. You finally make it out, trekking through the parking lot to get to your car. Once you're in you turn it on and drive in silence. When you're in your dorm you head straight to bed. Holding onto one last hope that all of this is just a dream.

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

You know you shouldn’t be here. Well, technically nothing is stopping you from being here. But with Coach currently giving you the cold shoulder, Doc banning you from skating, and James on your hate list, Coming to the rink might not be the smartest of ideas.

That is why you are here right now, at night. You’ve been out for over a week and feel like you’ve been going stir-crazy in your room. Technically the rink is closed. It has been for the past three hours. However, you know Burnie, the maintenance man, doesn’t leave until a while after.

You’re shaking in the cold when you see him walk out the front, going to lock it. He smiles when he sees you. You can't help but smile back. “Hey Burnie.”

“Hey sweetheart” He greets you with just as much enthusiasm as always. “Whatcha doing here?”

“I forgot a couple of things in the locker room. Thought it might be time I come and get it.”

He eyes you suspiciously. You can’t help but laugh. “Burnie I promise I’m just here for some things. Look, no bag, no skates,” you say as you spin in a circle for him.

He reaches to steady you. “Woah okay now. Be careful on that foot.” he sighs. “Alright sweetheart, I'm gonna trust you on this, run in and grab your things and I’ll wait for you right here.”

“What, Burnie no. I'm not gonna make you wait out here in the cold. Plus you shouldn’t have to stay a second later. I already feel bad keeping you right now.”

Burnie’s still wavering. You sigh. “Look Burnie, I’m in a boot and I don’t know if you know this but these are a pain to take off. Both literally and physically. I just need to grab my things but I don’t want you waiting out here on me when you could be halfway home.”

“Fine. You’ve convinced me. Don’t let me find out that you were skating or we're gonna have some problems, sweetheart.”

You giggle pointing at your boot. “Burnie, I already told you I can’t.”

He waves a hand, walking away. “Knowing you? You’d find a way. There are keys in Remus's desk. Lock the front door when you're done.”

“Sir yes Sir.”

You make your way into the lockers, finding your bag of things that you always leave here. You grab it and walk out to the rink. You slump down onto the bench. You start rummaging through your bag. You smile as you find all sorts of knick-knacks.

You pull out what you were looking for, your old skates. You smile fondly as you remember the skating you did in them. Your happiness morphed into sadness when remembering the people who bought you the skates. You hadn’t seen your parents since you moved out to college. Your skating was too mediocre for them to fly out and watch. You remember every single time they turned down your invitations, telling you it would be “A waste of time”.

How could that be? You had everyone telling you you’re the best skater they’ve seen in ages. You have a world champion for a coach. You have so many people coming out to watch you. How can you have all of that and it still not be enough to make your parents see you?

This is why you had to be fantastic. You were supposed to be perfect this year and the last and you ruined it. You still hadn’t told your parents about your injury. You could still hear your mother on the phone from last year. The disappointment, the lack of worry for her child, and worst of all, her deadpan voice muttering into the phone, “What did we expect, knowing you.”

You’re squeezing the skates tightly, you feel your breath pick up. You pinch your eyes shut. Nonono this cannot be happening. You know this feeling all too well. You put your hands over your ears and bring your head down. You feel the familiar tightness in your chest. You try to breathe in and out but your airways feel constricted. You sit up and start rummaging through your bag looking for an inhaler. You find one and pull it out, panicking more when you realize that it’s out of pumps. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. Hearing the heavy thump over and over again. You get up. You know you have one in your car, you just have to make it out there.

You start walking, trying your best to slow down your breathing. You can start to see the light coming from the front when you hear someone unlocking the door. You walk around the corner, fully expecting to see Burnie who’s come back to kick you out. You freeze when the person turns around.

You and James both stop in your places both gasping in shock.

“Jesus Christ you scared the shit out of me,” he says with a hand over his heart.

You don’t have time for James, so you walk right past him. James takes your silence as an insult.

“Are you still ignoring me?” you don’t answer, you fumble to get the keys out of your pocket. Reaching to unlock the door. When you do, you book it out to the parking lot. You can hear James following you.

“Seriously, you don’t show up for a week and then I find you here in the middle of the night. What were you doing anyways?” he continues behind you. James' tone changes, seeming to land on the only possible explanation. “You were skating weren’t you?” you get your car keys out of your pocket and start clicking on the unlock button over and over again.

“God” he scoffs, “You’re insane. That has to be the only explanation.” whatever else James says you can’t hear. The pain in your chest is unbearable and you start to cough at the lack of air in your lungs. The cold makes every sharp inhale burn. You finally make it to your car and swing the back door open. You jump in, yanking your bag out from under the seat. You dig through it and pull your inhaler out. You bring it to your mouth and inhale instantly.

You sit up, breathing in. Your eyes are closed but you can hear James' shoes scuff to a stop right outside your open door. You stay like this for a while. You finally feel your heart start to slow and the burning in your chest is subsiding. You open your eyes and see James staring back at you with wide eyes.

“Holy shit you have asthma?”

His complete 180 in emotions gives you whiplash.

“Yes you dickhead, I have asthma.”

James completely disregards the insult. “You had asthma this whole time. That's what Doc was asking about right? Or that time on the ice? When you get winded?”

You just nod.

“Yeah, you’re definitely insane.” you lean forward to smack his arm. “Quit calling me crazy!”

James rests a hand on the top of the car, leaning in, getting a better look at you in the back seat.

“I’m not calling you crazy. I’m calling you insane.”

You cross your arms. “So what, I have asthma. Plenty of athletes have asthma,” you say, looking up at him.

James runs a hand through his hair. “That isn’t the point. I just wish- If you could just-” Without another word he’s getting into the backseat, pushing you over to make room for him.

James clears his throat. “Listen, I’m going to say something and I need you to listen.”

Whatever you're about to say, James doesn’t let you. “Promise. Promise you won’t say anything until I’m finished talking.” You stare down at James' hand, pinky extended, waiting for yours.

You wrap your pinky around his. He drops his hand but keeps his finger interlocked with yours. You don’t pull away.

“I think you should take a break from skating.”

You roll your eyes. You push away from James but his pinky tightens around yours.

“Wait! You promised you’d listen.”

He’s got a desperate look on his face. “I watch you.”

“James what?”

“Okay no, but yes.” He clarifies. “God I’m really bad at this. What I want to say is that I notice you okay? The second you started skating here I noticed you.”

“You are frustratingly good on the ice. You’ve gotten title after title and it's got everything to do with you” James looks down, fidgeting with your joint pinkies. Ears red. “But ever since your incident last year you’ve gotten so…” he trails off looking for the right word. “Aggressive”

“You’ve gotten so aggressive with your technique, on the ice, and with yourself. There’s something different about you. Everyone thinks it's a newfound determination but I can see it in your eyes, it’s something else. You skate with no regard for your body. What happens when you push it too far? What happens when you force yourself so hard that your body gives up on you? What will you do then?”

The silence is heavy over you both. You look at James and he looks back at you with so much emotion, searching for an answer.

You let out a shaky breath. “What am I if I can’t skate? Can you tell me, James?”

He stumbles over his words, clearly thrown off by your question. He comes up blank.

“Exactly. Skating is all I have, it’s all I am.”

James shakes his head. “No, that isn’t true.”

You let out an exasperated laugh. “Do you think I’d be here right now if it weren’t for my skating? I’m here because it’s what I'm good at. I have so many people betting on me, so many expectations to uphold, so many people to prove that I’m worth it.”

James leans in closer and speaks gently. “Why do you think that you aren’t already the best? Why is it so hard to believe that you are amazing at what you do?”

His gentle tone does little to comfort you. He doesn’t get it. “If I’m so great how come my parents won’t come to see me?” you yell, your tone coming off harsher than you had intended.

You recognize the emotion behind James' stare, it’s pity and you hate it.

You can’t bear to look at him, embarrassed by your outburst.

“Hey,” you keep your gaze towards your lap.

“Hey, look at me.” you feel his hand come under your chin as he lifts your face to meet his eyes.

He unlatches his pinky from yours and brings his hand up to hold your face.

“Is that what it is, you feel like you’ve got a crowd to appeal to? Well, guess what? You don’t owe anyone anything. You skate because you love it not because you feel the need to meet intangible expectations. If your parents can’t see how good you are then that's on them, you don’t need them.”

You groan and reach for his wrist, pulling his hand away from your face. “That's easy for you to say.”

James furrows his brows at that, “What’s that supposed to mean.”

“You have your parents here offering you endless support. No offense, but you could sit out an entire game and they’d still whoop and holler about how proud they are of you. You have a team that worships the ground you walk on. You have Remus and Sirius. What do I have? Who do I have? Coach?” You raise a hand to wipe away your tears but it’s no use. “I’m a thousand miles away from everything and everyone that I love. Being good, no, being fucking fantastic is the only way to get their attention. So if that’s what I need to be then so be it.”

You let out one shaky breath and it all breaks loose. You bury your head in your hands, trying to muffle whatever mess you look like from James. After a short moment of sobbing into your hands, you feel hands pull at your arms. Before you know it, James is pulling you into a warm embrace.

The angle is a bit awkward, considering the size of your backseat but he still manages to get his arms wrapped around you. Your head lands on his chest, ear pressed against it. You stiffen at first but slowly wrap your arms around him. You both sit in silence. He gently runs a hand up and down your back, while the other rests on the back of your head, holding it. You listen to the beat of his heart, which moves rapidly. You can’t help but smile slightly. Despite being the one to make a bold gesture, he’s the nervous one.

“You aren’t as alone as you think.”

“What?” You go to lift your head but James pushes it back onto his chest. Heart beating quicker.

“You're Not alone. You have Sirius and Remus, just as much as I do if not more. They adore you a little too much. And whether you believe it or not you have Doc and just about everyone else who you cross paths with in the rink.”

He clears his throat for the next one. “And you have me.”

It’s said so quickly you almost miss it. You’re sure you would’ve if you weren’t so close to him.

You go to lift your head again but he pushes it back down. You groan. “James.”

He doesn’t respond. You go to move but he holds you in place again. “James Potter, let me look at you.”

He doesn’t budge, “I’d rather you didn’t”

“James, if you don’t let me move, so help me god.”

Your tone seems to do it. His hand slips from where it rested on your head. Once you get a good look at him, you almost laugh at the sight in front of you. James Potter, Red in the face, with a look of embarrassment so bad, he could die. He looks everywhere but at you. Eyes darting around the car.

“James”

“Yes?”

“Look at me.”

He does for a second and then looks away.

“James,” you say sternly.

“Yes?” He says picking at the seats.

Without putting much thought into it you smack both hands on his face, forcing him to look at you. You seemed to surprise him more than yourself. James stares at you with wide eyes. You’d done it without thinking and how you have no course of action.

You both blink at each other.

“What was it that you said just now?”

He doesn’t turn away this time. That's progress. “What were we talking about?” he says with a dazy voice. You look at him expectantly. James, who realizes he has nowhere to go, blurts it out.

“I said that you have me. There. Happy?” he doesn't stop there. “I said you have me because you do. All the time, every day I'm thinking about you, which is crazy considering how much you berate me. But that must be it. I must be crazy because I love it all the same. I care about you, even though half the time you make me want to slam my head into a locker, I care. So, yes, you have me.”

Through your hands, you feel the heat of his face. Despite the strong blush and red ears, James looks at you so earnestly that you can’t help what comes next.

Hands still on his face you pull him forward into a kiss. He freezes and you pull away. Just for a split moment, you worry that you made a mistake. But before you know it James surges forward, reconnecting your lips. Whatever hesitation there was before, is gone now.

His lips move against yours slowly, tentatively, exploring. You feel a finger trace the line of your jaw. Then the hand slips behind your head, bringing you closer. The sweet kiss now deepened with the hunger shared between you both. You raise your arms to wrap around his neck. You feel like you can’t breathe but you don’t stop.

With his newfound confidence, James moves forward. Your back hits the seat and James hovers over you now. He moves to lay himself over you. You feel his hand running up and down your side. You gasp into the kiss when a cold hand slips under your shirt, resting on your bare waist. James groans at the feeling of your bare skin, squeezing your side. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. You don’t want to stop, ever. But the more James runs his hands over you and kisses you with an insatiable passion, the less you can breathe.

You ignore it at first, but the aching in your chest only gets stronger. You feel like you’re drowning, and you decide that hyperventilating while making out isn’t the way to go so in one swift motion you sit up, pushing James off of you.

You breathe in harshly. James now sits up straight, staring at you wide-eyed, glasses askew. You laugh but it sends you right into a coughing fit. You start to panic a bit and search for your inhaler. James snaps out of his daze and seems to get the memo. After what feels like forever, James lifts the inhaler. “Got it” he yells triumphantly.

Snatching it from his hand, you take a couple of puffs, breathing in and out slowly.

“Woah. I guess you could say I took your breath away.”

You shoot him a look but can’t help but burst out laughing. James' laugh follows.

“No, seriously though. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just a bit winded.”

James smirks, seemingly a bit too proud. “Sorry about that,” he says with fake sympathy.

“Sorry about what? Trying to eat my face off or trying to take me in the back of my car?”

James' face goes bright red. You don’t understand how he can be so confident yet so easily embarrassed.

“I-I okay, woah, I-” He stutters over his words.

“Gosh James, I thought you’d have a bit more class than that.”

He scoffs, “I have plenty of class and I don’t think I heard any complaints from you.”

You shrug, “Could’ve been better.”

James' jaw falls open in disbelief. “Oh really now.”

“Yup”

Before you know it he’s bringing you down to your back and you let out a yelp of surprise.

“Well since you’re so great I guess you’ll have to help me practice.”

You hum. “Oh yes, you’ll need all the practice you can get.”

James lets out a loud laugh, making your heart flutter. “Yeah, well let's hope you don’t have to reach for your inhaler every 5 minutes.”

You smack his shoulder. “Hey! I am a star athlete. I don’t think a little acti-”

James cuts you off, bringing his lips to yours. This time it's soft and sweet. James pulls away. “Talking to you is going to be a lot easier now that I can do that.”

“Keep talking and that’ll be the last time you get to do that.”

James nods quickly. “Yes ma’am. Message received.”

With a nod from you, James is back on you. He leans into you heavily, moving his lips with yours. You reach up for his glasses, feeling them start to dig into your face. James' hand comes to your wrist, stopping you. Pulling away, he rushes out a ‘wait!’

You look at him confused. “What?”

“Don’t take them off.”

“James, as much as I love your glasses, they’re digging into my face.”

James blinks at you with a slight pout on his face. “I can’t see anything when I take them off.”

“Okay?”

He sighs, “I can’t see you when I take them off.”

You roll your eyes at him. “James Potter you are such a sap.”

He rolls his eyes back at you. “Yeah, well you’ll just have to deal with it.”

“I suppose I will. Okay they can stay on”

James smiles brightly. “Yay! Now shut up and let me kiss you.”

And who are you to deny him?

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

“Alright, you guys did great today! Don’t forget to tell your parents that there won't be any classes next week.” you hear a chorus of answers promising they will. Considering you’re talking to a bunch of toddlers, you make a mental note to send out an email.

You guide them off the ice and towards their parents, waving bye to them all.

You’ve been helping teach the toddler class while their coach is out of town. Doc hadn't fully cleared you but gave you the green light to teach the little ones.

You make your way towards the office to drop off the sign-in forms. When you walk in, you’re greeted by a smiling Remus.

“Hello, love. How are the tots?”

You give him a tired smile, “Rambunctious as always.”

Remus laughs, taking the papers from you. “You think you’d take this opportunity to get away from this place but no.”

You lean forward on the counter. “And miss out on seeing you every day? No way.”

Remus shakes his head, turning away from you. Ears slightly pink. “You’re insufferable.”

Before you can respond you hear someone else enter the office. More like two someones.

James and Sirius walk over to where you’re talking to Remus. James' eyes shift from you to Remus’ red ears and then back to you.

“Hey, I thought I told you to stop flirting with Remus.” He says with a slight frown.

You shrug, “I’ve done no such thing.”

James rolls his eyes. “Yeah right. Liar.”

Sirius and Remus erupt in laughter as James pouts.

Sirius ruffles James' hair. “Oh James, it’s sweet that you think you can stop whatever it is they’ve got going on.”

James huffs, pointing at Remus. “You’ve got to stop whatever alluring charm you’ve got going on.”

Sirius laughs harder. Remus gives James a cheeky smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just myself.”

You swoon dramatically at his words. “Oh, Remus.”

“Hey! No, don't swoon!” James says, looking frantically between the two of you.

Remus and Sirius roar in laughter at his reaction.

With the other two still laughing, James walks over to you. You give him a sweet smile.

He frowns at you. “Why do you insist on giving me a hard time?”

“Someone's got to keep you on your toes, humble you a bit.” He glares at you but breaks into a smile of his own.

With Sirius and Remus now wrapped up in their own conversation, James leans in a bit closer.

“Hm, humble me? How can I be humble when you’re praising me all the time when we-” You slap a hand over his mouth, blushing furiously. You feel him smirk against your hand.

He reaches for your wrist, pulling your hand away, giving it a soft kiss. “How were the lessons?” He says changing the subject.

“They were great. Lenny didn’t cry at all this time.”

He gives you an encouraging pat on the waist. "Nice, and what about your foot?”

You shrug, “It feels fine. I think stretching before ice time helps.”

James smiles. “You’ve been doing the stretches?”

You nod. He gives you a high five “That's my girl.”

He goes silent, looking between you and his friend's chit-chatting. He leans in, whispering into your ear.

“Hey, when's your appointment with Doc again?”

You think for a minute. “Um, not till this afternoon, why?”

“So you’re free right now?”

“Yeah”

“What a coincidence, so am I.” He says with a mischievous look in his eyes.

A moment pauses.

“Well. What are you waiting for?”

James springs into action. His hand grabs yours, leading the both of you out of the office.

“Hey, where are the two going?”

Without turning around James yells out “Practice” You can’t help but laugh at the confused responses you get from Sirius and Remus.

James continues down his path, determined.

“Wait James, what about my bag and my-”

He pats the side of his bag. Hanging from a chain is one of your backup inhalers. You stare at him in shock. With a quick kiss on the forehead and a cheeky smile, James continues to drag you both out of the rink.

Practice does ensue.

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A present to you all for being MIA.

I pinky promise I'm working on the Peter series!

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter fanfiction #james potter x you #marauders era

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