#i don’t think any of us knew what we wanted

[bueckersbitch]

greenlight - paige bueckers x reader

☆ warnings : angst, sexual context, toxic!paige

☆ word count : 1.7k

☆ authors note : hi guys! a quick fic bc i loveeee tates new album, the last bit is inspired by her explaination of green light!

☆ taglist : @sierrale8ne @thaatdigitaldiary @pboogerswbb @lupinqs @rosemariiaa @xxloveralways14 @lovegalor333 @mrsarnold @janaelalfysblunt @bueckersfive @vamptizm

The door knob slowly pushes down, almost mocking the way your heart dropped when receiving the text, “I’ve been thinking, we need to talk.” The message wasn’t unexpected; in fact, you had been counting on receiving it after the last couple of weeks between you and Paige. Part of you still wanted it to be your overthinking getting the best of you again, a figment of your imagination trying to self-sabotage you, yet, it was something deeper: the way Paige’s demeanor changed in what felt like an instant, her loving, comforting words turning quickly into scowls of defense when you confronted her about her passive attitude towards your feelings. The doorknob seems to lag, separating the relationship between you two into two: before the conversation that was about to change your relationship, and after.

Her face is revealed after a moment; her normally perfect, slick-back bun is disheveled a bit; however, her face was numb, lacking any emotion. Her sock-clad feet slowly shuffled back when opening the door, silently urging you to step into her apartment, the one you had helped decorate when she had moved to Dallas. Your eyes flicker up to meet her cold, blue ones; her lips become tightly bound, letting out a sigh. You pick at your hangnails that had accumulated unwillingly after your thoughts about everything concerning you two swarmed your mind over the past couple of nights. You step inside, noticing the lack of the feeling of home: candles remaining unlit, tv that usually had a game on left dark, and the vase that rests on the center of her kitchen island, but instead of having purple irises gifted by you—Paige’s favorite flowers—it was clear, water even being drained since the last time you had given them to the blonde, when you were both happy. 

Paige doesn’t say a word, picking up the tv remote and turning on a game. Crashing to the couch, her fixed stare on the tv felt like a punch to the gut. Paige was good at communicating, something you admired even in the early stages of your relationship. The lump in your throat started to grow. Had she changed so much to the point she felt like she couldn’t tell you what she was feeling? “Are you serious?” You questioned, voice shaking a bit. Paige hummed in response, eyes still glued to the tv, making you feel like an afterthought, unimportant. “I didn’t drive half an hour for you to not tell me what you want.” You said, leaning on the kitchen island, tears starting to well now. “I thought it was obvious. We aren’t working, baby.” A tear fell from your eye now, taking your makeup with it to your neck. You knew that, you knew something wasn’t working, but what shocked you was Paige’s lack of effort to try and fix what was wrong. “Tell me what’s not working then, because I feel like recently whenever I try to get to you, what you’re thinking, you feel like I’m a nuisance.” It was different. You leading the conversation about talking about feelings, emotions were something you encouraged yourself to suppress. “I don’t wanna tell you though.” Paige says, resting her elbows on her knees as she turns her head with minimal effort to look at you. Confusion jolts through you, apparently evident on your face through your eyebrows and slight stutter of the start of a sentence beginning with “W-w-wha-” Paige rolls her eyes, cutting you off with, “Don’t you get it? I’m tired. I don’t wanna tell you because I don’t think I wanna fix us.” Your heart really drops, feeling heavy with the weight of her words shutting you down. “Do you hear yourself? Did the past four years mean nothing to you?” Paige scoffs, nodding her head as it dips between her shoulders, “You know it did. I just feel like I’ve grown. I’m not the injured girl you met in sophomore year anymore.” The mention of how you met tugging at your heart strings.

-

Four years ago

The lecture to your psychology class had finally ended, meaning it was time for a nice Friday out  with your girls. You gathered your stuff, placing your iPad in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. Pulling your phone out, you start scrolling through the notifications of ideas for what you guys should do tonight. You walk through the tiled hall, a little too quickly it seems, because you brush past someone, hearing them grunt in annoyance. You whip your head around, to a tall blonde. You had heard about her injury, watched it happen even, how she was projected to be out for six to eight weeks. Her words sliced through your thoughts, “I miss when I could walk mindlessly.” Your eyes widened, baffled at your ignorance to your surroundings. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry-” Paige laughs. “I’m just teasing you. What’s got you rushing to get back though?” You let out an exhale of relief, smiling while telling the girl your plans for the night. Conversation ending with you carrying her stuff for her while walking her back to her apartment. Impulsive thoughts overcoming you, word vomit producing a, “You should totally come!”

-

Present

“Trust me, I know,” you manage to say through a facade. Paige’s brows furrow now. “What’s that ‘supposed to mean?” You exhale, similarly to how you had all those years ago, but this time, it was to brace yourself for what you were about to say. “I mean the Paige I knew back then, fuck, even a month ago, wouldn’t push aside my feelings like it’s something that’s optional in her life!” She leans back again, seemingly unphased by your confession. “I’m not about to pour my heart into something you don’t deserve.” Your mind was clouded now, something you didn’t deserve? If there was the bare minimum of what you deserved, it was an explanation, a reason why your soulmate had turned into someone that looked at you like a burden. “I’m just standing here trying to understand what you want from me, because I’ve tried, Paige, I really have, but it’s obvious that you think I don’t deserve a basic explanation as to why you’ve just shut me out.” You try to reason with her, not ready to accept the truth of what could happen. “I don’t want anything anymore. I don’t know why I gotta spell that shit out for you.” There it was, the admission that had you in a grasp of anxiousness. “So what?” Still finding it hard to accept that your loving, communicative Paige was acting this way, “So, it’s done.” 

Her words rang through your head like a stupid song you couldn’t get out of your head. Your keys gripped so hard in your hand they started to leave indents. Your hood was pulled up over your head, trying to avoid the receptionist that would greet you after the long journey of the elevator, plummeting like your heart had. You push through the revolving door, out into the soft water of the rain, almost like the universe was sad for you. Flinging yourself into your car, you start to drive back to your apartment in silence. You roll to a stop at a red light, finally letting yourself break down in the comfort of your own car.

-

Three months later

The delicate notification rang through your ears again, light turning green as you pushed on the gas. It had chimed a couple of times now, a specific notification sound you had only reserved for a certain blonde. You forgot you even did that, changing the setting when you were so young and lovestruck. Sure, the sound surprised you a week ago when you heard it for the first time in three months, but now? It was almost background noise to your daily tasks. She tried to work her way back, endless texts and voicemails that had her saying “I fucked up” and “Please talk to me, ma” and other things of the sorts. You would’ve gone running straight into her arms had it not been for what you found out. Another girl. One she felt so taken aback by that she felt the need to shut you out, to break up with you. You wanted to make sure she lived with the consequence of losing you. So now, you were on your way out to a restaurant, your therapist encouraging you to get back out into the dating scene again. Skylar, was her name. 

You sat across from the brunette girl, smiling with her as you both talked about your families. It felt nice, feeling like your presence was wanted. A voice rang through your ears, one that was too familiar, one that you had heard every day straight for four years. There she was, talking and laughing with her Wings teammates as she looked over the menu.

You broke. Something about having such a deep history with her coaxing you back to her, pressed up against the very door you had slammed shut in anger a few months ago. Her hands gripping your waist as she confessed how her admiration for you had never left, “Missed you so bad, you’re the only one for me.” Hands trailing past your waistband, finding the pool of arousal that awaited her.

She sweetly talked you back into her bed, but even after pulling three orgasms from you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of what you had found out she had been hiding from you. So, you found your clothes, taking in the way her wavy blonde hair framed her sleeping face, before slipping away in the middle of the night, attempting to avoid the start of a toxic back and forth.

-

One week later

The post sat unliked in your feed, taking a second to take it in. Paige’s new girlfriend. The girl she left you for, the one she was still seeing a week ago when she was fucking you. 

You were shielding your phone from Skylar. Of course, you tried to move on, but a part of you still believed you would get her back, your Paige back. It was wrong, and everyone around you told you to move on. Paige sure had. “Babe?” You quickly locked your phone, looking at your date in the passenger seat of your car. “You were so invested in your phone that you fully sat through that entire green light.” She laughed. You forced a fake laugh, suppressing the solemn feeling that the universe was mocking you through the situation. You sitting still at a green light, while the light is telling you it’s okay to go, is like everybody around you saying it’s okay to move on from Paige, but it still feels impossible.

[yailtsv]

Secret - p.b

💌 Syn: Azzi’s younger sister dates one of their teammates behind Azzi’s back

»»— warnings: none i don’t think

»»— notes: i hate how this one turned out 🤠

»»— word count: 917

»»— pair: Paige x Fudd!Gfreader

“shhh we gotta be quiet” you tell paige after she knocked something off of your dresser when sneaking in

paige just ignores you and picks up what she dropped and then closed and locked your bedroom door - heading towards you.

you and azzi share a dorm together with caroline, carols asleep and azzi’s in her room doing homework, so what did you do? called your girlfriend to come over

but…said girlfriend has to sneak in because you both are hiding your relationship. azzi would not approve of your relationship and you both aren’t gonna ask your teammates to lie for you so you can be public around them, that’s just insane.

so that gets you to where you are right now - watching paige get clothes from the bottom drawer of your dresser, and then changing into those clothes

“movie and cuddles?” paige asked after putting the clothes she just took off, onto your desk chair for her to grab when she leaves

you nod, already getting in your bed and under the covers, making paige do the same

you both fell asleep watching the movie, all cuddled up together. but you both woke up to consistent knocking, only waking up fully when you heard azzi say through the door “alright fine i’m using the key” making both of you sit up startled, but before you could move and push paige into your closet the door had opened and in walked azzi.

you could see azzi’s facial expression change, you could tell when she put the scene in front of her together in her brain, you could also see the look of hurt and betrayal all across her face

“az-“ “no! do not say anything!” she tells you before turning to face paige “you’re sleeping with my sister? AFTER i told you she was off limits?”

paige doesn’t really know what to say. azzi’s right, she did tell paige that you were off limits - and has been telling her since paige and azzi first met - which was years ago. paige did follow through with that, up until last year.

she never showed she was attracted to you - she was even in denial with her feelings for you. she always treated you as a friend - a very close friend but a friend.

she never thought you and her would eventually become a thing, she always fully intended to keep you at arms length - so that azzi wouldn’t be mad at her.

she’s not really sure on the time stamp of when she accepted her feelings, but whenever it was, was one of the greatest days. the even better day, was when she finally decided to do something with her feelings - that’s the day you guys started dating.

you and her have been dating for a little over a year now. she thought you guys wouldn’t be caught this far along, and she was wrong, and she’s having a difficult time on swallowing this pill.

“az- i’m sorry” paige stutters out, kinda overwhelmed with this situation “YOU’RE sorry?! you can date anyone in the world, and you chose the ONE person that i said was off limits, and you’re sorry?!”

“azzi i’m an adult, i can date who i want to date.” you tell her, wanting this conversation to be over

“you’re also my little sister dating MY best friend.” azzi responded back, still mad about the situation “why are you making it sound like she’s not my friend too? we’re all teammates, we’re all friends, we didn’t tell you we were seeing each other because we knew you were gonna act like this.”

“act like what?! i told both of you that i didn’t want you guys to ever date each other and look what’s happening now! you guys couldn’t of just respected that wish? i don’t ask anything of either of you but the one thing i do, you go behind my back and do it any ways?”

“azzi that’s not fair-“ paige starts but got cut off “fair?! you wanna talk about being fair?” “if you would let me talk that would be great!” paige said after cutting azzi off

azzi stopped talking and crossed her arms over her chest looking at paige expectingly “go on”

“we both did what you asked. we ignored each other romantically until last year, we spent all of our time together since me and you met at arms length, we’ve done everything, and unexpectedly fell for each other in that time. we are both adults, we can both do what we want - and what we want is to be with each other. you can’t stop us from dating, we’ve respected your wish this whole time but you never say why we can’t date you just say to not date, and that’s not fair at all. if your gonna forbid us from doing something at least tell us why. and until you can come up with a good reason - we’re gonna continue seeing each other”

azzi just looks at paige, her arms still crossed over her chest “i love her” paige replied again after a few moments of silence

azzi doesn’t say anything but after a few seconds walks out the door and back to her room. you and paige both make eye contact before sighing out loud

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @authentic-girl03 @ldapper

requested on wattpad

[cyber333angel]

TOXIC-EX!ABBY ANDERSON X SWEETHEART!READER

a/n : there is plot to this but we lose it very quickly due to smutty yap i fear, soo much longer than usual, abby is very much of a meanie in this, some manipulation and a dash of hair pulling.. enjoy!

it was was time to get over her. you decided after weeks of crying over your now ex girlfriend it was time to move on, you knew abby wasn’t sitting around crying over the relationship so why should you? you saw peoples stories, abby drinking at parties and already flirting with a bunch of other girls so it was no use to cry over someone who wasn’t even thinking about you.

a friend of yours had invited you out to go to some frat house that lived near your campus to cheer you up but all you could think about was abby. abby always took you to parties that her hockey jock friends threw, abby was the one who had you sat on her lap while she made you take long swigs of her beer that she knew you didn’t like and abby was always teasing you in front of her friends with all her comments about how she had you screaming just last night. but you were going there to get your mind off her not to think of her, so you shoo’ed those thoughts away as you made it to the party with a plastered smile on your face.

so far it had been going good, you had a drink in your hand as you swayed faintly to the rowdy music playing on the speakers and you talked to a friend you knew, having the most fun you���d had in weeks.

all to be ruined when your eyes turn to see the woman you were trying to heal from this whole time, walking in with her arms on the shoulders of some girl. laughing as someone hands her a cup of beer, you really didn’t want to ruin the vibe, didn’t want to get upset. so your eyes flicker away from the scene, hiding amongst the crowd of your friends and talking to take your mind off of it.

but even for such a large house the place felt so small, everywhere you went abby was there, being obnoxious and showing off. it’s something you always complained about when the two of you were together and she would always wave it off, taking your mind off of it in a random bathroom with her fingers stuffed up your dress and her hands clasped at your mouth. you needed some space to breath so you walked up the stairs of the house to find a bathroom or just a empty space to breathe in. you found a room that’s decorated and fitted for a frat guy but it will do. you go to sit down on the bed, sitting with your cup as you played with the fabric of your dress. just breathing as you listen to the sound of the music and the bustling conversations of the people below you.

you were just sobering up when abby saw you sitting there on the bed, still cute as ever with the same sheepish behavior. she sees you before you see her, and she missed teasing you oh so much. you sigh when your eyes connect to hers and the woman of the hour is already looking at you with a conniving grin.

you roll your eyes as you get up to leave when abby finishes talking to whoever she was entertaining and walks into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. “you’ve been avoiding me all night baby what happened?” that nickname was all that was needed to piss your off further, “im not your baby, don’t call me that. please move i need to leave.” referring to the door that abby was currently blocking and not making any effort to move from.

“you know I miss you..been thinking about you ever since you left, you know im sorry.” this was not what you needed to hear tonight, not right now while only on the verge of sobering up and getting over her. you knew exactly what she was up to, abby would always talk to you in that sweet tone when she wanted something from you and you would fall for it every time. it’s exactly why you found the courage to finally leave when you did. “that’s what you always say abby, I left because I was tired of forgiving you over and over.” you say shaking your head, stepping back when you hear abby walk closer to you, all the space in the seemingly large room running away from you as you bump into the bed and abby holds you close.

“just one more chance hm? promise ill be good for you sweet girl.” her body guards you fully, she must have started working out even more since you left, her arms were so massive looking. the proximity was forcing you to take in her intoxicating scent and become drunk all over again. even though you wont admit it, you missed the scent of abby, it was always what you needed after hard day and coming home to lay on her was all you needed. “abby..” you use your last (but weak) attempt to not give in, pushing your head away from her with a whine. “missed this pretty face.. give me one kiss yeah?” she says hooking a finger under your jaw, making you look up at her, smiling when you meet her eyes. “there she is, i know you missed this too mama..” she says, her hands finding the globes of your ass as she lowers her head down to yours.

she kisses you so softly at first, sucking at fat of your lips keenly and with gentle hesitation, but it was clearly an act when she starts kissing you more and more roughly. sliding her tongue deeper down your throat and moving her hand to your waist with the other hand to your neck just to taste you deeper. you automatically melt into abbys hold, months of trying to forget her all down the drain while you take in what you missed so much. “let’s move to the bed kay?” and you nod slightly into her chest, smiling when she lifts you and has you sitting on her lap while she sits on the bed. “arms up.” you don’t falter to raise your arms up, letting abby lift up your shirt and leave you in your bra, letting her take control.

she kisses the skin of your breast that’s spilling out of your bra, warm hands holding your waist close to hers. “missed these too..” and she manages to make you laugh like she used to, “abby!” you say as she bounces her right leg under you. “i can try something else right angel? wanna make you feel good..” and at this point you can’t even think of denying her so you nod, letting abby handle you and move you to the spot in between the pillows of the bed. laying you down with her body in front of your closed legs, peeling them open with her arms as you attempt to hide in the fabric of your shirt, watching her from above. she just handles you so naturally that everything was done without words, tapping your hips with her fingers meaning for you to lift your hips so she could slide your panties off, not so subtlety putting them in her pocket.

now your all spread out for her, already damp from the kissing as your legs fidget over the bed. “anyone else been between these legs since I was gone, try to please you like I can?” you wouldn’t do that t’me would you baby?” she’s acting possessive already and you only just went back to her, but you could care less with how good you knew you were about to feel. you shake your head no quickly as you look at her with needy eyes, “didnt see anyone else abs..only you.” you were completely under her spell and she hadn’t even touched you yet, placing her hand under your chin to smooth her thumb over your cheek, smiling down at you.

“yeah i know you’re my good girl, could never find someone to make this pretty pussy feel good like I do huh?” she whispers, tilting her head to the side as her hand travels down to your cunt, sliding them over your glossy bud slowly. in this moment you wouldn’t think abby could ever be mean, she had the most beautiful smile looking down at you while she pushed the tip of her fingers into your hole, teasing them in and out as your stomach tensed. “you know you have to be quiet right? walls aren’t that thick here and you know how you get..”

but there it was, the mean girl you had forgotten about suddenly making your mind all anxious, because you do know how you get when abby has her hands on you. you let her lay you down with her sweet words and promises without thinking. when your with abby you could never keep your voice down, weather it was your broken moans or pants her hands could never hold them in. and there was a whole crowd of people below you maybe you should take a pause on this, “mm wait abs..” you whine, a nervous croak leaving your throat.

her fingers slide in deeper into you as you writhe, back arching off the bed a bit as you feel her two large fingers stretching at your hole. “you know it’s too late for that, look at how wet you are..” her whispers getting quieter as she dips her head to your lips, kissing you with her fingers prodding so snuggly at your walls. her other hand trails along your body, pinching at your nipples all the way to the back of your head, supporting it so you could reach closer to her.

mewling when you feel a harsh pull at the back of your head, whining into abbys mouth as you hands fly to hers. of course she wasn’t pulling your hair that hard, just enough to alarm you and make you pay attention to what she had to say. “you love me right baby? hm, need you to say it for me..” she sounded desperate almost, a pouted look on her face as her fingers sped up. a third finger prodding at the two already twisting and turning inside you, you could almost cry. “mn lo-love..” you really couldn’t focus with her pressuring you like this, every immanent thing in the room zeroing into your mind. the darkness of the room along with the blue led lights that lit it up, the perfect scene with the music bumping below you and of course abby.

you get pulled back when abby stops kissing at your skin, her breast stop resting against yours as she props herself up. feeling a harsher pull on your hair and the loss of her soaked fingers in your needy cunt. “need you to speak up mama. you love what? love my fingers or my tongue, what is it?” demanding you to speak, and making you so needy for her fingers to be back inside you it’s like you could almost say you did love her fingers. “no i love you abby! love you s-so much..”

god could she get inside your head, you were too busy cumming all over fingers to even notice the smile on her face. “i know you do baby..missed this pretty pussy too..” your hips shook against the bed, grabbing at anything you could get your hands on in the moment. the comforter, the pillows, abbys biceps, she was still thrusting her fingers into you with her thumb circling at your sensitive clit. “oh i know, my good girl is feeling so good huh?”

abby had pulled a good two other orgasms out of you that night, one with her rubbing her pussy against yours and the other with her mouth. she probably could have got more if the two of you weren’t interrupted by a knock on the door, apparently the party was about to be over and you had made such a mess all over a bed that wasn’t even yours, you were mortified to say the least. she teased you about it for a whole week and it made you so embarrassed everytime, always bringing up the look on your face when you heard the bang on the door while she was snickering. though the mission of getting over abby failed, you got your girlfriend back and you couldn’t be happier.

[pitchsidestories]

What do you fancy love ? II (Alexia Putellas x Jenni Hermoso x Reader)

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1495

summary: Reader is just a girl who is sometimes insecure, but her girlfriends remind her how important she is to them. requested

author's note: Hi everyone, thank you anon for the request, and hopefully you and the other readers will like this little fanfic.🩷🩷

disclaimer: Everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality. Slightly smutty ending.

You studied the photo on your phone closely. Tilting the device back and forth to avoid the glare on the screen and to find evidence of what you had told yourself over and over again in the past few days. It was Alexias’s post and naturally she looked stunning on it, smiling into the camera. Jenni was captured in side profile as she was turning towards you. She looked as cool as she always did. You were sandwiched between those two gorgeous women and the longer you stared at the photo, the less you felt like you fit in.

You couldn’t resist, your thumb instinctively clicked at the little speech bubble and the comment section opened. You already knew what was about to come.

Y/n just posted .. (let's pretend reader is Teresa in this picture)

User69: Are all three of them a thing?!

userloveswoso: no way. I mean Alexia and Jenni make sense but…

xXUserXx: yeah, they’re hot together but y/n kinda ruins it. Not sure what they want with her

You felt your stomach drop and your throat tighten immediately. While you continued to scroll through the comments, Alexias’s voice echoed through your shared flat: “Amor, where are you?”

The playful sing-song in felt completely out of place.

You cleared your throat and called: “In the bedroom!”

Instead of Alexia, Jenni shouted from the hallway: “Oh, I’m coming.”

You usually would have smiled about her eagerness to get into bed but right now, your eyes were still glued to that small screen in front of you.

Alexia groaned and scolded your girlfriend: “Jennifer, you can’t possibly always think of that one thing when you hear someone say the word bedroom.”

“What can I say? I was conditioned like a Pavlovian dog.”, Jenni laughed.

You felt their presence before you actually saw them standing in the doorway.

“Hi, did you get everything at the supermarket?”, you asked, forcing your voice to sound as casual as possible without looking up at them.

From the corner of your eye, you caught your girlfriends exchanging a glance.

“So, we’re not doing it?”, Jenni asked jokingly.

“Doing what?” You finally looked up at them and upon seeing Jennis’s smirk, you added: “Oh, you’re sure you don’t want to do it without me?”

Alexia frowned at you, her eyebrows knotting together in concern: “Okay, something is wrong. Tell us what’s going through your pretty head.”

“Pretty? Me?”, you repeated as she sat down on the bed next to you.

“Of course, you, you idiot.”, Jenni grinned from where she was leaning against the wall.

In contrast to hers, Alexias’s face was serious: “You act like we never say that to you.”

“The people seem to disagree.”, you said plainly and handed her your phone with a heavy heart. Jenni came over, leaning over Alexias’s shoulder as they both read through the comments.

The midfielder shook her head in disbelief. She was hurting for you as she saw what random people, complete strangers had to say about you and your relationship with them.:” Why would they say that?”

“Maybe they’re right.”, you whispered.

With a fierce passion Jenni disagreed:” No, those hiding behind their screens are wrong.”

Alexia said your name softly.

You almost couldn’t bring yourself to look in her beautiful hazel eyes. “Hm?”

“Don’t listen to them.”, she gently replied.

In your mind's eye, the hateful comments from the internet jumped out at you, and you quietly admitted: “It’s not that easy.”

“You can’t possibly believe that shit.”, the striker waved her hands in outrage.

In a tone that did not tolerate any protest, Alexia commanded: “Put the phone away for the night.”

“But..”, you started.

The blonde was quick to interrupt you:” You heard me.”

“Yes, relax, babe.”, Jenni tried to calm you down.

However, your thoughts left you no peace: “I don’t want to relax.” You could feel the panic rising in you as you spoke.

“You should though.”, Alexia responded.

Despite the worried look on your girlfriend’s faces, you observed:” No one says those things about any of you.”

“That’s not true, but besides who cares what they think?”, the raven-haired woman countered.

“I care, Jenni!”, you cried out.

It was in this moment that your lovers realized that you were in your early twenties, your career was on the rise, you still needed to learn how to deal with all of that outside pressure which came with being a public person.

The midfielder hated to see you so sad: “Calm down.”

To her great surprise, you got out of bed and announced: ”I’ll go for a walk.”

“Do you want us to join you or..?”, Alexia asked, sounding cautious.

Purposefully, you put on your shoes. You didn't have to think long about your answer to her question: ”No.”

As soon as you were on your way out, the door was just closing, the blonde let herself fall onto the bed with a tired sigh.

“Jenni, what do we do with her?”, her eyes wandered expectantly to her girlfriend who lay next to her.

Without giving it much thought, the older of the two suggested: “We have to show her that we know better than the stupid comments.”

“How?”

A dirty smile appeared on Jennis lips: “Well.”

“What if she’s not in the mood?”, Alexia objected.

The dark-haired woman began to stare at the ceiling, confessing with a wry smile: “Then I’m out of ideas.”

“Okay, we’ll try that.”, the midfielder decided.

A surprised laugh escaped Jenni's mouth: “Really?”

“Yes.”, she confirmed in a matter-of-factly tone.

It was early evening and there was a light breeze coming in from the sea that ran through your hair. The sunset was reflected in the water, which you could see from afar.

At the beginning of your walk, the anxiety weighed heavily on your young shoulders, but now that you were almost home again, you felt the weight lighten. The peace and beauty of the moment outweighed and calmed your inner turmoil.

“I’m back.”, you told your girlfriends once you stepped inside your shared appartement.

Again, it was Alexias voice floating over to you: “Come into the bedroom.”

“Uhm, okay.“, you said before you slipped out of your shoes and took a deep breath. You really didn’t feel like talking to your girlfriends again.

“Don’t let us wait.”, Jenni called too when you took too long to follow Alexias instruction.

You reluctantly did as you were told.

The bedroom looked a little different since you left it. There were candles burning everywhere and rose petals on bed. You had no idea from where they had appeared from. But most importantly, both of your girlfriends stood there in matching lingerie.

They looked incredibly hot but the sight of them like that was so surprising that it almost made you giggle: “Oh my god.”

Alexia reached out to you, gesturing to come closer: “Come here…”

“Seriously?”, you asked with a smile, still unsure if your eyes didn’t betray you.

Alexia nodded: “Yes, you know that I’m a serious person.”

“Hard to tell when you’re standing there in your underwear.”, you laughed.

Jenni, seemingly getting more and more impatient, walked over you with that typical mischievous smirk on her lips.

“Yes, and you, pretty girl, are still wearing way too many clothes.”, she grinned, her face close to yours. Skilfully, she slid her fingers under your sweater and started to lift fabric up.

“Excuse me? I didn’t say take them off.”, you protested jokingly.

Shrugging, Jenni pulled the shirt over your head: “No but I did.”

She immediately moved farther down, opening the button of your jeans.

Laughing, you pushed her away: “Stop.”

Alexia took Jennis spot right in front of you. Her thumb grazed over your cheek while she tenderly kissed your lips.

“Baby girl, do you still want us to stop?”

You blinked at her, your brain incapable of cooperating: “Uhm…”

None of your girlfriends moved until you gave them permission to keep going.

But you couldn’t resist, the desire was too strong.

You shook your head: “No.”

The smile Alexia and Jenni shared almost washed away the memory of these nasty comments again. They seemed genuinely happy that they were allowed to take care of you. You only realised that now. It wasn’t just about what you or anyone else thought. It was about what your girlfriends wanted. And they clearly wanted you.

Before you knew it, you laid on the bed in nothing but your underwear. Jennis fingers and Alexias lips were everywhere on your body. You loved it when they did that. It was almost like their playing styles on the pitch, complimenting and enhancing each other’s skills. There was no room for your own thoughts anymore. You were so absorbed in the action that you didn’t notice your phone sliding off the nightstand and landing under the bed. And if you had, you wouldn’t have cared. Their opinions were theirs, but your girlfriends made pretty clear that you belonged to them. That you were loved and desirable.

[matchatarot]

Hi my little bunny! To pick a pile don’t overthink it and chose the one that draws you in the most while thinking about the reading’s intent. For my first ever tumblr tarot reading I decided to connect with your spirit team and ask them what message they would like to share with you. Hope it resonates! Love, Matcha ♡

Pile 1 ₊˚. ༄

My love stop being so hard on yourself! We love you so much! Everything you need is in your own heart, your light is so loving, so beautiful, so healing, so creative, let it out! Stop looking at other’s expectations of who they want you to be and instead be guided by your inner light. You are not stuck like you think you are! You have everything you need right now. Set yourself free from those mental chains. You are your own savior. Spend time with yourself, not just spending time alone, actually get to know yourself. You need to integrate the shadows, get to know the dark parts of yourself but also get to know what makes your heart full of love and what makes you shine. You don’t need to address other’s doubts when it comes to your path. You’ re the one that knows best.

11:11 333 369hz

Pile 2 ୭̥° ✧

You did it! You listened to us! You’ve let go of that thing that kept holding you back and we’re so proud of you. You don’t have to look back, because you did what had to be done and now so much is coming for you! If you knew how many great things we have prepared for your life you would simply not believe it. Get ready! You changed for the best! The new You deserves compensation for all the work you did to better yourself, to be kind. You give hope to others, you’re a treasure, we’re so lucky to have you on earth. Don’t worry, you did the hard work and now your blessings are coming, settle in your new mindset, your new body. You’re more connected to your soul than you’ve ever been. Balance, justice, harmony and love are coming your way. Don’t stop dreaming, continue evolving.

Wild World by Cat Steven’s, 222 888

Pile 3 ‧₊˚♡

Take a deep breath with me please. There’s something heavy in your energy, there’s something you need to address that you’ve been scared of. But there’s no answers in looking away. Make your research, ask the opinions of your peers, whatever you do start putting your energy in solving this matter, you need it to continue building your future. There’s an addiction controlling your thoughts, what is it? I think you need to talk to someone before you start heading in the wrong direction, there’s some work you’re doing that can’t bare any fruits because you’re not addressing that one thing. The anxiety, the fears are just gonna get worse if you don’t. Please drink enough water and get enough rest. Tune yourself to your intuition. You got this! We love you.

555 888 333 639hz

decks used for this reading: l’oracle du chemin spirituel by Valérie Defour & Valérie Saussez, the angel’s tarot by Doreen Virtue & Radleigh Valentine, modern witch tarot deck by Lisa Steele

[matchalovertrait]

An intimate talk under the stars.

Start from the beginning (Gen 2)

Previous | Next

[Once they arrived at the park, Dulce and Antonio changed into a fresh pair of clothes. Running around in skintight costumes all night was NOT comfortable! They wouldn’t recommend it.]

[They also took this time to catch their breath. The crisp air felt rejuvenating while they embraced the comfortable silence, taking in the crazy night they had. What an insane idea. But they did it. Together.]

[After a few minutes, Dulce cleared her throat.]

DULCE: ..Antonio. I want to say I appreciate you for doing this with me. I know it was ridiculous. You’ve already helped me a lot, and I can’t thank you enough for it.

[Antonio shifted with discomfort.]

ANTONIO: Don’t thank me just yet. We haven’t won the case.

DULCE: Many things could’ve gone wrong, though.

ANTONIO: Technically they did... but we got through them, right? And we got the notebook.

DULCE: We did!!

[Dulce took out her notebook and flipped through the pages in awe.]

DULCE: I wish I could see the look on Caruso’s face once he realizes the notebook is gone.

[The “security”, Caruso, and Isabela should be able to put two and two together. Dulce and Antonio knew that. However, Caruso and Isabela had no proof. The Operation Fox team covered their tracks, and Matthew was able to erase any surveillance camera footage once the power came back on.]

[She looked up at Antonio with a soft smile.]

ANTONIO: I’ll guard that notebook with my life when I take it for the ink dating in the morning.

DULCE: I almost didn’t take it when I was in his room because I felt bad... We’re kind of the same.

ANTONIO: What do you mean?

DULCE: Maybe his video about me was some weird karmic stuff for the Alto exposé video I made. Maybe Caruso is just me as a man and I deserve what I got.

ANTONIO: You’re mistaken. You’re a lot smarter than Caruso. In your video, you didn’t give any names and you were very vague. Quite impressive if you ask me. How old were you? About 16? 17?

DULCE: Around there.

ANTONIO: Second of all, you have more love in your heart. It’s that simple.

ANTONIO: Alright. Picture this: Alfonso Alto watches your video. He laughs but is secretly freaking out. What if people start suspecting his shady business? He contacts his legal team to try to stop you.

ANTONIO: They rewatch your video repeatedly in an attempt to find something to sue you for—which, by the way, only adds onto your view count—but, they have nothing. Absolutely nothing. He’s furious to have been outsmarted by a teen girl. Things lead to another and he’s in prison all because of one video.

[Dulce nodded. Antonio would know from experience.]

DULCE: Hm, yeah.

ANTONIO: Think about all the lives you probably saved too. Caruso can’t live up to that. That’s probably why he’s so vengeful.

DULCE: ..Speaking of which, what about you and Isabela? Is she a vengeful ex-girlfriend of yours?

[Antonio waved his hand in dismissal.]

ANTONIO: Absolutely not.

ANTONIO: Actually, she hates me because I turned her down.

DULCE: What??

ANTONIO: We used work closely as interns at the same firm. We had to. Along the way, she somehow developed feelings for me. When she asked me out, I declined. I explained to her that I’m dedicated to my work. I don’t have time or energy for love.

[Dulce’s heart dropped.]

ANTONIO: I thought she took it well. Then, she started screwing me over in subtle ways. She would provide me with incorrect deadlines or “forget” to tell me about important calls.

ANTONIO: I couldn’t say anything. Isabela was untouchable because her uncle was a senior attorney at the firm. When my internship ended and I looked for jobs, many places rejected me because I received a bad reputation.

DULCE: I’m sorry that happened to you. Isabela’s a witch for doing that.

ANTONIO: It all worked out. I’m fortunate that the firm I work at now took a chance on me. I get to do what I love. And that place has allowed me to meet some incredible people.

DULCE: ..Sometimes I think about possible alternate timelines. “What if I didn’t do that?” or “What if I had done this instead?” ..Maybe I would be in a more fortunate situation.. but maybe I wouldn’t have experienced the good things in this timeline.

ANTONIO: Like what?

[The two looked up at the starry night.]

DULCE: Like adopting Cosi! Caruso was the one who insisted we get a dog on that day, actually. Maybe someone else would’ve taken her.

DULCE: Okay, your turn to name something.

ANTONIO: Hm..... One time I broke my leg. If I didn’t have all that spare time to watch movies, maybe I wouldn’t have found out I like Star Wars. Your turn.

DULCE: I got lost in the city once. If I didn’t make a wrong turn, I wouldn’t have run into the person selling the refurbished iMac G3. I love it! Your turn.

[Suddenly, the two of them turned to face each other at the same time. They hadn’t realize the closing distance between them.]

ANTONIO: I..

DULCE: I think we should leave. Isabela and Caruso could be out looking for us right now.

ANTONIO: Yeah, and it’s getting late.

DULCE: Mhm.

ANTONIO: C’mon. Let’s get you home.

[bradleysass]

Breakup - @rosekillermicrofic - wc: 490

Evan leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping his tea as Barty paced in front of him, hands flailing dramatically. "We need to break up."

Evan barely blinked. "Alright."

Barty stopped mid-step. "Alright? Just like that?"

"You break up with me at least once a week. What’s different this time?" Evan took another sip, unbothered.

Barty crossed his arms, grinning like a lunatic. "This time, it’s for science."

Evan sighed. "Of course."

"I want to see how everyone reacts. Like, do they take your side? Do they take my side? Do they start plotting ways to kill me in my sleep? What if someone confesses their undying love for you? What if—"

"Fine," Evan interrupted, already regretting entertaining this nonsense. "But only because I’m bored."

Barty lit up. "Oh, you love me."

"Not right now, I don’t," Evan deadpanned.

—

They broke the news during a gathering at Dorcas’ flat. It was the perfect setting—close quarters, free alcohol, and plenty of people who had suffered through their relationship long enough to have very strong opinions about it.

Barty dramatically slumped onto the couch. "Well, now that I’m single, I guess I have to start dating again. Any takers?"

Silence.

Marlene looked up from her drink, unimpressed. "Literally no one wants that."

"I do," James said through a mouthful of chips. "Wait, what are we talking about?"

Regulus, sitting stiffly in the corner, looked back and forth between them before sighing. "I don’t believe you."

Barty scoffed. "Wow. Zero faith."

"Evan, say something," Mary prodded.

Evan, who had been staring blankly at his drink, blinked. "Barty’s an unbearable boyfriend. I finally had enough."

"Ah, so you finally came to your senses," Sirius said, nodding approvingly.

Dorcas frowned. "No, wait, this is weird. I always assumed Evan would be the one to murder Barty in cold blood before actually breaking up with him."

Peter chimed in. "I had my money on Barty getting arrested and Evan just moving on like nothing happened."

"You bet on our breakup?" Barty asked, a little too gleeful.

"We bet on everything," Remus corrected.

Lily narrowed her eyes. "Alright, what’s the truth?"

Barty looked offended. "You think we’d lie?"

"Yes," the room chorused.

Evan sighed, placing his glass down. "Fine, we’re still together."

Marlene groaned. "I knew it. You absolute menaces."

Regulus looked relieved, but only slightly. "I was prepared to tolerate Barty’s existence for your sake, Evan. I’d rather not have suffered for nothing."

Sirius huffed. "We should’ve let them keep the act up and watched them suffer."

"Oh, please," Barty snorted. "We’re unbreakable." He slung an arm around Evan, who did not react in the slightest. "Admit it, you all love us."

James threw a pretzel at his head. "Absolutely not."

And just like that, the party resumed, with Barty basking in the attention and Evan making a mental note to never let Barty drag him into one of his dumb plans again. (He absolutely would.)

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Teamwork - part two

George Russell x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Summary: smutty part two of this

Warnings: 18+!, degradation, double penetration, oral (m receiving), p in v, p in a, explicit language, unprotected sex

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: Whooof... I don't know what to say, this idea came today in the morning and it made me feel many things. Sometimes I struggle with words or how to put things together, but I hope you’re gonna enjoy it anyway. Read warnings, because it's filthy and naughty. But you wanted it. ;)

Any feedback is welcomed. :)

---

“It’s too-“ your whines were silenced by Max holding a handful of your hair, pushing his thick cock down your throat. George sat on the bed, palming his hard dick, watching how you were on your knees, your nails digging into Max’s thighs as you tried your best not to gag on his length, which was really not easy task.

“Fuck, I don’t know how can you even think straight when she’s good at this…” Max moaned loudly, his brows furrowed from the intensity of your warm and wet mouth.

George just chuckled darkly, biting into his lip, finding this situation scandalous but arousing at the same time.

“Maybe we should use her more often to clear the bad blood between us.”

You were about to protest, moving your head away from Max’s hardness, but he was in no mood to let you go. 

“Just take it, baby, get used to being our little slut.” Max huffed, sticking himself as far as he could in your throat.

George moved closer to kneel behind you, pulling your skirt over your ass, spanking it, your throat forcing out the gagging sounds, one of your hands trying to pry him off.

He took your hand and placed it around Max’s cock, helping you to pump it while Max was moving your head at a torturous pace.

“Take care of him, nice and slow. Just like you treat me all the time.” George whispered into your hair, looking up at Max to see his shocked expression. Sight of you and George being on your knees for him shot a strange bolt of satisfaction through his body, making him smirk.

Your body shivered, mind filled with many things you wanted to scream out but at the same time you were so turned on, and you started to melt to what is just happening. And the fact that George just ripped your panties off of you wasn’t helping much. 

Pushing two fingers into your gushing pussy, George let out a loud groan. “Love, you’re so freaking wet, unbelievable.” 

Max was still fucking your throat, drool dripping down staining your white shirt. “Prepare her. She’s gonna take us both.” 

Your eyes went wide when you felt George’s thumb circling your butthole. Trying to wiggle yourself away, he grabbed your hips to steady you in place, his other hand still deep in your pussy.

“Don’t worry baby. I’ll make you open and relaxed.” George spit on your lower back only for the fluid to get down between your ass cheeks to lubricate his thumb. With a little pressure he started to probe your tight hole.

“She never let me use her ass before. I'm gonna enjoy this so much.” He shot a brief look of excitement at Max, then he averted his attention back to you, to stretch both of your holes.

Overwhelmed and breathless you started to pass out, Max noticing so and pulling your head gently from him to allow you to take a breath. A loud gasp is heard as your body falls against George’s chest, his thumb now deep inside your tight ass. 

“I c-can’t-“ you manage to whisper, your body trembling violently, eyes half lidded. 

Max took off all his clothes, now standing naked in front of you both, watching you. George moved his fingers slowly but firmly, forcing you to moan softly, leaving your cheeks flushed at the embarrassment of how much you love the position you’re in.

“You like it, don’t you? I knew you’d love this. You’re my filthy girl.” George whispered with a victorious smile, his hard dick pressing against your ass cheek, leaking with precum. 

“N-no-“ you tried to oppose but it was pointless since your body craved to be taken like that.

“Don’t lie. I can see it in your eyes.” Max rumbled under his breath, stroking his cock. You shot him a sharp glare, thinking that if it wasn’t for his talking mouth, they wouldn’t be doing this.

While you were distracted by him, George took advantage of it to replace his thumb with his length, pressing it against the tight entrance of your ass, your body reacting by moving away from him, eyes full of tears, a loud panicked squeak leaving your mouth. “George! No-“ 

“Shhhhh. Relax baby. Or I’ll hurt you and I don’t want to do that. Take it easy.” He pressed a kiss against your temple, one of his hands wandering under your drool stained shirt to grab your breast while his other was on your hip, keeping you in place.

You tried to relax, huffing, your brows furrowing, biting on your lip to leave it swollen, after he was finally fully in. It was like something switched inside your brain, you looked up at Max, eyes filled with filth and lust. 

“You just made her so fucking cock drunk, George.” Max chuckled, his fingers sliding along your jaw taking in your expression. 

“F-fuck, mate, she’s clenching like crazy around me. Come on, help me get her up, and you're gonna fill her pussy.” George grunted, trying to get up, while being deep in your ass when Max grabbed you under your thighs. They were now standing, you between them, George holding you up under your knees, your legs parted widely for Max to look at your leaking pussy. 

“I want to hear her say it.” he stared into your eyes with a wide smirk, while George was railing your ass like there was no tomorrow. 

“I’m not-” you were breathless, tears of pleasure smudging your makeup more than it already was, not able to put in a coherent sentence.

“Say ‘Please, Max, fuck me.’” his sinister expression flipped your stomach around.

George bit onto your shoulder and groaned into your ear. “Just say it, love. And let him finally fuck you, hm? He’s gonna do that anyway, you’re not gonna get out of it.” 

Shiver went down your spine, your face twisting in distaste but the feeling of George being so deep inside you, you simply missed another man in your other hole. 

With a frustrated sigh you moaned desperately. “Max, please. Just fuck me.” 

Max nodded, completely ready to fuck your brains out, he stepped closer, slapping his swollen cock against your clit, making you whimper. George behind you groaned at your clenches of pleasure, feeling it tight. 

Within the moment, you were filled by two men at once. While George held you up from behind, Max gripped your waist, grunting with each thrust. You were losing your mind, moaning and gasping for air, your lungs on fire same as your throat. 

“F-fuck… this is… fuuuck….” was all you could muster out of your mouth and it made the two of them laugh softly.

Max and George found the same pace, thrusting in you in unison, ripping through your insides. 

“How’s that baby girl, huh? Still wanna listen to your shit talking boyfriend?” the fourth time champion mocked you, his hand finding a way to rub that sensitive bundle of nerves of yours, which shot a bolt of pleasure through your body and you squealed loudly. 

“Are you for real right now Max?” George moaned breathlessly, his brows furrowed and he pounded into you more and more due to his annoyance.

“I am so real. You’re full of shit, Russell.” Max chuckled viciously, pulling in and out of you, always getting back harder and harder. 

Your mouth was wide open, eyes rolled to the back of your head as you were nearly limp against George.

“Like if you’re any better, Verstappen. Just stop with this nonsense. Focus on making her cum, she may enjoy this to the fullest, but taking her to her high, that's a real challenge.” George smirked, remembering his own hard way to find the right spot to make you come.

“Hm… Easy.” Max grunted, his cock growing even more harder at the amount of sloppines of your pussy. You suddenly came back to your senses, wrapping your hands around Max’s neck, staring deep into his eyes.

“Make me cum, champion.” 

And well, that was like some kind of drug and he obeyed, flicking your clit like crazy along with deep thrusts. You let out a desperate huff, frowning, not really happy with how he was doing it. Even if he was behind you, George could see your face and he chuckled.

“I bet I can make her come just by fucking her ass. You can’t do a shit, Max.” he picked up the pace, abusing your tight hole, the pleasure pooling in your belly. 

“Fuckfuckfuck, no, I'm gonna make her come!” Max nearly yelled in absolute madness, the grip on your waist endless, as he pushed into you with all his might and he stopped in his tracks, twitching inside you, to make you feel how huge he really was, while circling your clit in different angle. That made you nearly see stars, biting into your lip, avoiding his look.

“Look at me. Fucking look at me.” Max gritted through his teeth, and you turned your head to look at him. “You’re a fucking slut, taking us both, look how freaking soaked you are, you’re all over my cock, darling.” 

You whined, rolling your eyes. 

“That’s it, baby, let go, mhm, yes, yes. Just like that.” his devilish laugh rumbled through his chest, and as he flicked your clit again you were done.

Your shameful screams filled the hotel room, your drenched cunt squeezing Max tight the same as your ass did to George. It was so intense, that you all nearly lost it.

“Shit, dude. I’m gonna get there soon.” George groaned, his hips carving into yours. Max only huffed with a nod. “Let’s fill her to the brim together.” 

A few moans and huffs later, they managed to come together, filling you with their seed. 

Standing at the edge of the bed, watching you laying there on your side, their cum oozing from your holes, seeping to the silky sheets, while you were still breathing heavily, your gaze hazed from the overstimulation, George shot a look at his rival.

“Was it worth it?” 

“Absofuckinglutely.” 

While they chuckled, you lifted your gaze at them with an annoyed and croaked voice. “I’m gonna kill you both.”

“I guess that she needs to be reminded again that her words mean nothing.” Max smirked, his cock getting hard again.

George let out a soft laugh, looking at you, grabbing you by your ankle. “You’re right, let's shut that pretty mouth of hers.” 

———

Please don’t use my writings without my permission! Pictures found on Pinterest.

-

Tags: @chilling-seavey , @tammyfortis , @gracie23x

[snoopychris]

capture the flag

in which... there's a game of capture the flag and life is all sunshine and rainbows

warnings: filler chapter but a necessary filler

as the start of the school year got closer, the camp began getting less and less occupied. even Hermes cabin, usually so full of life, was about to be down to five campers. during the school year, the Camp was down to no more than 25 campers total. the year-rounders, so they were called. as much as Camp Half-Blood felt like home, you had always wished you werent one of them. you had always wished that you could have a family to go home to. a place to feel loved and wanted outside of the protective barrier that Thalia Grace had provided. 

“you think they’ll let us leave one day? like leave forever?” you whisper, feet dipped into the water with chris by your side. your head rested on his shoulder, a place it was typically found. sunny with chris, is like a fork found in a kitchen, was the way percy jackson once described it. “think if they would’ve let us leave they would’ve done it when we turned 18.” chris replies, his voice full of sadness. you knew he had big dreams too, always having been interested in seeing los angeles and any state aside from new york, really. the moment is one you seem to share every year. it’s only interrupted when a throat is cleared behind you. 

your head whips to look behind you, your first thought being that something was wrong with one of the campers. instead, you find yourself locking eyes with matt. the action seems to linger for a little bit too long because chris is the first to speak. “something wrong?” matt shakes his head, twiddling his fingers. “i need to shower.” he states. your eyebrows raise, looking him up and down. “okay…?” chris continues, his voice filled with genuine confusion. matt groans when chris doesn’t understand anything, turning towards you instead. “i don’t have any clothes.” you slap chris’ chest gently, knowing you had told him to give matt a few closet staples after he had arrived the day before. you stood up from the rocky floor, walking over to matt. “aphrodite cabin’s got all the spares. you’ll be able to find something in there.” you smile, walking matt to the cabin. 

it doesn’t take long for you to arrive, opening the baby pink doors to reveal the luscious interior. it’s easily the most organized of the cabins. you point towards the big dresser with various drawers, sitting down on a nearby couch. “take whatever you need. those kids love shopping.” you giggle, looking up at the ceiling. you can’t remember the last time you were in here. “if nothings your style, i can take you to chris’ cabin too. he’s got a lot he doesn’t wear.” you smile, crossing your legs. you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t good looking. the way his tattoos adorned his arms gave him an edge that chris lacked. maybe one day you’d ask what they meant. maybe one day he’d tell you.

it doesn’t take long for him to pick out the clothes he wants. a few tshirts, a few pairs of jeans, a small sweater, and a leather jacket. he was son of Ares, alright. “you’re settling in okay? i know you haven’t left your cabin much. i hear things you know. got eyes all over this place.” you joke, beginning to walk back to his own cabin. he shrugs as he looks around, pursing his lips. “got nobody here.” “you could always try talking to nick. or chris.” an idea pops into your mind, remembering the recent arrival of a camper. “or you could even talk to-“

“sunny!” your voice is cut off by the very person you were thinking of, turning your head to see him. his blonde hair was being pushed around by the wind without any issues, and he seemed to have grown a few inches since the last time you saw him. the blonde makes his way over to you, setting his hand on your shoulder. “matt… meet will solace. will this is matt. ares’ son. he’s chris’ brother… half brother. but not in the way other people here have half brothers” will hums at the sight, moving his arm to instead shake matt’s hand. “nice to meet you. they treating you good here? if they’re not you can always complain to dionysus… he lectures chris good.” you roll your eyes at the comment, stepping away from the conversation that seems to be blooming. 

you’re no more than halfway to the Hermes cabin when you bump into nick. “sunny! oh my god i was just about to come looking for you. some of the kids in there are asking about capture the flag and… some will character being captain? is that like required… or like… and also who’s will? is will single… does he like guys?” nick asks, a bowl of strawberries in his hand. you nod at his question, looking around the camp. “unfortunately it is required. it’s training and a game all in one. if wills a captain then that means tha-” “SUNNY! you’re up! my office! now!” Dionysus. 

“i just feel like it’s chris’ turn.” Dionysus knows you’re referring to being captain of capture the flag teams. you were good at it sometimes, but never against Will. “no” “will always has the best teams. it’s not even fair!” you whine, your face turning into an annoyed expression. “it’s your turn” “is clarisse here?” “nope.” “what about annabeth?” “she’s at school already.” “percy?” “specifically requested to play.” “drew? nico? anybody?” “no. your turn.” Dionysus says smugly, sending you off with a flick of the wrist. “is chiron coming back soon?” you whisper. The God in front of you knew how much the centaur meant to you, always being the closest thing you had to a father. he nods as he sends you a solemn expression. “he’s making strides in Olympus. next week though. promise.” you nod as you grab two bright orange Camp t-shirts, headed out the door to begin planning your teams. it doesn’t take long for it to click in your head when you lock eyes with chris, who’s walking into his dad’s office. “captain?” he asks. you nod, shrugging nonchalantly. “captain!”

it’s only been a few hours by the time you’re standing in a group of 50 or so and people. all eyes are on you and will. “okay! two teams of 23. will and i are your captains! this is the last game of the summer. after this… free time for a lot of the time here but check with your counselors first!” you yell, gripping onto the helmet. you look at will, getting a nod for you to begin picking. “okay! i’m picking first.” an array of hands go up, wanting to be on your team. your eyes glance between the obvious answers, despite your mind being made up earlier. chris is standing right in front of you, his eyes batting like a lost puppy dog. on the side opposite him is percy. his blonde hair is messier than usual, all thanks to his lack of hair products and excess of salt water. theres two perfectly good candidates right there.

on the other hand, there’s two candidates near the back of the group of people who you would rather have. "i want matt and nick to start." 

nick, matt, and chris have never looked more identical. you can’t even see nick and matt properly due to their distance from you. their collective "what" speaks more words than the entirety of taylor swifts discography. "sunny you cant be serious... youre gonna lose." will whispers, his hair looking nearly identical to percy's in this light. "yeah well... luke took a chance on percy once didnt he?" will swallows as he nods, taking his options in. “chris and percy” chris sighs as he walks to Will’s side of the crowd, watching as you pick another random camper. the picking continues until nobody’s left. by the looks of it, your team is incredibly weaker than Will’s. you have hope for them regardless. 

your team quickly makes their way towards your “safe zone.” the helmets that you all have by your sides are goofy looking, but important regardless. you look around, licking your lips. “okay… okay. cat and gracie. you two keep an eye on the flag. nico’s gonna stay and help you with the fighting. right d’angelo?” you whisper, looking towards nico. he nods, gripping onto his sword. “can’t believe you didn’t pick chris this time.” nico adds on, licking his lips mischievously. “he’ll survive. the rest of you. split up. you’re our offense. matt and nick. you two are with me. we’re goin after that flag.” you hear the gulp that nick experiences, following after you with a sword in hand. his hands are shaky. you can tell that he’s scared. on the other hand, matt looks excited. he hadn’t left his cabin much, instead opting to let his anger out on the objects found in the Ares cabin. his grip on the sword was tight, as if he was ready to swing at any moment. 

there’s a small crack of twigs from the woods after you had been walking for a while that catches the attention of all three of you. matt instinctively points his sword out, lowering it when its only chris. “this is a new low sunny. i mean we’re always on the same team.” you shrug at his words, gripping onto his wrist and pulling his arm behind his back. “where’s the flag?” you whisper, earning a wince from chris. “i don’t know. why are you mad at me?” he replies. you shrug, pushing him down onto the floor. “let’s move.” 

matt and nick follow behind you, each watching out for others in their own way. nick is looking out so that he doesn’t get attacked. matt is looking for someone to attack. “are you mad at chris?” nick questions, his shaky hands beginning to calm down. “no. all games. he knows that.” you smile, biting your lip when you see the blue teams flag in the distance. victory is so sweet. of course, you hadn’t won yet, but you were so close.

it was within 200 feet. you swallow as you grip onto your own sword, knowing that if the flag was in eyesight distance, then there would be plenty of guards nearby. “on the count of three… matt’s gonna go left. nick and i are gonna go right… one… two.” matt couldn’t keep in any more excitement. “three!” he yells, running in the opposite direction as you and nick. you begin your sprint, knowing that the two separate direction vectors you were going in would be enough for the other team to be distracted. 

you feel like you’re forgetting something as you’re running through the woods that you’ve grown to love. you’re navigating each turn like it’s nothing. oh. “sunny i really don’t like this game!” nick yells, running close behind you. even though you know these turns like the back of your hand, you realize that nick doesn’t. he doesn’t know about the drop that he’s 15 feet away from.

it’s in the blink of an eye that he’s about to go head first off a cliff, dropped when the back of his shirt has a tight grip on it. someone saved him. for once, nicks grateful to be alive. he catches his breath for a few moments before turning back to see who saved him. “you must be nick.” nick nods, tumbling backwards a few feet. “im will.” you smile at the sight for a moment before running off, leaving the boys behind. 

nick had heard of the boy standing before him, but he hadn’t actually met him in person. sure, they were in the same vicinity of each other earlier during the team picking, but this was different. nick didn’t even know what he was feeling. his heart was racing and his face was getting hot. he wants to say it’s adrenaline. he knows it’s not. “i’m nick… sturniolo. but you knew that i think… sunny wasn’t kidding when she said you’re like sunshine personified.” will chuckles, shrugging. “i get that a lot.”

you were so damn close to victory that it felt incredible. you couldn’t have been more than 50 feet away from the flag when you’re pinned to the floor. you groan at the feeling, attempting to kick yourself away from your opponent. you know who it is— of course you do. it’s a position you’ve been in multiple times before, but never in this environment. “get off me you’re heavy!” “you didn’t pick me.” he whispers, grabbing his sword and holding it close to your neck as a form of intimidation.

“ok fine yes i’m sorry that i didn’t pick you! now can you please get the sword away from my throat you know what that does to me.” chris scoffs as he sets the sword down on the floor next to you. truthfully, you don’t know where matt and nick are right now. chris stands up, reaching out to help you. you grab onto his hand, feeling the sparks you usually feel when you touch him. you smile at him softly, beginning to sprint towards the flag again. someone beats you to it. 

matt’s hand grips the flag, winning the game for everybody on your team. against all odds, you finally won a game against Will Solace. your eyebrows furrow, looking around. “how did i just win against will? how did i just win so fast?” you whisper looking towards chris. he gestures toward nick, still fully immersed in conversation with Will. you smile widely as you lick your lips, walking to the flag. “you did good matt. you have a talent.” he shrugs, looking into the woods he just came out of. “scared some of the campers off i guess” he jokes, earning a cackle from chris. chris has definitely done that before, even accidentally.

you relish in the victory for a moment before a voice calls out to chris away from the crowd. Chris’ eyes meet yours for a moment, shrugging in confusion. he chases after the voice, leaving you in nothing but pure confusion yourself. you turn to look at matt, nodding once. “okay… anyway. you know how to swim?” matt’s terrible week gets a little bit better when you actually make an attempt to get to know him. like really get to know him. 

percy’s cabin—cabin 3–was like a second home to you. it felt so much more welcoming than others, despite how empty it was for most of the year. Matt’s eyes are on you the entire walk over, up until the point that you  open the doors. the breeze of the sea that is always lingering in the room feels nice, especially against the outside weather. you let out a small giggle as you slip off your t-shirt, making your way to the back porch to take a dip into the lake. somewhere along the way, you slip off your shorts before diving into the water. matt hesitates for a moment to do anything, just taking in the way you move. you were a breath of fresh air. somehow, you were a reminder of home.

“you getting in?” you yell, dipping your hair into the water as you look up at matt. “no swimsuit.” he replies, sitting down on the dock. “percy has a ton in there. c’mon. there’s no sea monsters in here. at least not anymore.” you smile, swimming over to him. “im swimming in my underwear. nobody else is gonna judge you. its just me.” matt doesnt usually give in so fast, but theres something about the way you talk that convinces him. he mustve taken too long to decide because you pull him into the water fully clothed before he can think. you giggle as he yelps, swimming away as fast as you possibly can. you hate to admit that you felt sparks when you grabbed his hand. it felt so wrong to feel that with anybody except chris. 

“you could get to the olympics with that speed.” matt yells out, staying near the dock. he slips off his shirt, showing off some of his tattoos in a better way. you shrug as you swim back over, slower this time. “its a gift. always came naturally to me.” matt smiles as he grabs onto your wrist, pulling you towards him. a breath gets stuck in your throat when he does so, swallowing nothing gently. “you remind me of a night in rome.” “im sorry?” “what? youve never listened to role model?” he asks. you shake your head, staring into his bright blue eyes. his eyes are just so so different from chris and nick’s that its hard for you to believe theyre even related.

“i dont listen to much… just um… taylor swift i know her. we dont have much technology here.” you knew that matt pulling you close to him had you within small distance of one another, but you didnt realize just how much room was between you. it was almost nonexistent. “you ever listen to delicate?” he whispers, lips inching closer to yours. you nod slowly, moving yours closer as well. the distance between the two of you is about to be completely closed when percy yells out from inside his cabin. “Matt?!” 

you flinch, swimming away from matt. it was an explanation you werent in the mood for right now. matt frowns, turning his attention to percy. Percy has an unreadable expression on his face. its a mix between fear, worry, and something else. you cant quite put your finger on it. “they need to see you in the big house. like now.” the worry inside you grows, swimming to the dock and climbing out. Matt follows suit and begins walking towards the big house, still soaked. when you go to follow, percy puts a hand on your shoulder and shakes his head. the worry only grows. there’s something that tells you that its the worst case scenario right now. that its a luke situation all over again. “not right now, sun.” 

when matt arrives to the big house, he’s the last triplet brother to arrive. Will is headed out the door when matt walks in, filling him with a sense of insecurity. he hasnt felt at home before. he definitely doesnt feel at home now. “is um… everything alright? Is something wrong?” he whispers, looking between chris and nick. Nick looks frightened. Chris looks annoyed. “I actually think id also like an answer now.” nick speaks, looking between dionysus and chris, the only two who seem to know whats going on right now. Dionysus gestures to chris as a way to tell his son to begin speaking. “I just dont know why I have to be the one to explain anything when youre the one who heard the damn thing.” chris spits, his tongue prodding at the inside of his lip.

Chris goes on to mumble something under his breath, looking towards matt and nick. they both send him looks of confusion. “I said that theres a prophecy about us.” chris’ tone is just slightly louder this time, but it’s loud enough to be understood. Nick furrows his brows, glancing towards matt. “A prophecy? what is that? is that like a bad thing?” nick asks, running a hand through his hair. Chris looks towards his father for a lifeline. Prophecies have never been his specialty. he’s never been a part of one until now. Dionysus sighs as he takes a sip from his soda can, slamming it down on a nearby table. “A prophecy is like a riddle. not a fun one either. its a prediction about a major event. most recent one we had was the rise or fall of olympus being caused by a forbidden child. Percy Jackson caused the rise of Olympus. unfortunately our resident oracle gave another one today while i was within earshot. the connection between foe will cause a God to reap what they sow. until fate’s hand strikes one final blow.” 

“Pardon me. Dionsyus.. is it?” matt asks, pursing his lips. “Just what does this have to do with us?” Dionysus swallows. It’s not a good sign to chris that even his dad is nervous. “it was spoken on August first. go and gather your things. all of you. youre going on a quest.”

a/n: :PPPPPP anyway. this may be just a filler but its one i need in order to do any of the things i want to do. that poll earlier also wasnt for nothing. :P kiss kiss ! - gen (also i think either dbf chris or ta matt coming tomorrow i dont KNOWWWWW)

tags(reply/message to be added!): @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @bluessturniolo @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @emely9274 @princessesgarden @marrykisskilled @cykss @strnilolover @13hoax @oopsiedaisydeer @starlace111 @24kmar @raesturns @allylovescody @sturniolosymphony@esioleren @colorthecosmos444 @jetaimevous @strnilolover @muwapsturniolo @bernardsbendystraws @whore4mattsturniolo @camzeecorner @spideylana @raesturns @starrysturns @pair-of-pantaloons @sturniowhore @strnilolover @pair-of-pantaloons @milo-the-dog @owensbabygirl @stvrnioloslvt i rlly hope im not missing anybody again

[multific]

More Than a Gamble

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: You and Mattheo have been secretly dating, and though you love him, you hate hiding.

The Slytherin common room was dimly lit, the glow of emerald flames flickering against the stone walls.

You moved quietly through the space, your heart fluttering with excitement.

It had been weeks since you and Mattheo started sneaking around together, stealing kisses in empty corridors, meeting in secret corners of the castle. Every touch, every whispered word had convinced you that what you had was real.

You loved him.

And even though you hated keeping your relationship a secret, you held onto the hope that soon, things would change. That one day, he would hold your hand in front of everyone.

But as you neared the hallway leading to the boys’ dormitories, voices carried through the air.

You froze.

“Alright, mate, just admit it,” Theodore’s voice was laced with amusement. “We all knew about the bet. We knew you were dating her.”

Your stomach twisted.

“What’s your point, Nott?” Mattheo’s voice came next, steady, unreadable.

“The point is,” Theo continued, “you lost.” He chuckled. “You were supposed to take her out once. One date. But what’s it been now? Over a month? Don’t tell me you actually caught feelings.”

A cold weight settled in your chest.

Mattheo had to ask you out on a date… as a bet?

Your world blurred as silence stretched between them, each second suffocating you.

Then, finally, Mattheo spoke.

His voice was quiet, but the words were clear.

“I don’t regret it.”

The weight in your chest cracked open into something sharp.

You turned and ran.

You barely registered the sound of your own sobs as you ran through the corridors. You didn’t care if anyone saw you. Didn’t care if they heard. You just needed to be alone.

You threw yourself onto your bed, curling in on yourself as the tears kept coming.

It had been a lie. All of it.

The touches, the kisses, the promises and the late-night whispers.

Had he ever truly wanted you? Or were you just a game to him?

The door to your dorm burst open.

“Y/N.”

You shivered at the sound of his voice.

Mattheo stood in the doorway, his chest rising and falling as he had run straight from the common room. His dark curls were a mess, his lips parted, his eyes filled with something close to desperation.

“Please,” he breathed, stepping inside. “Just-just listen.”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to sit up. Your voice trembled. “So it’s true?”

Mattheo flinched. “No.” Then he exhaled sharply. “I mean-yes, but not the way you think.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “Not the way I think? You made a bet, Mattheo. A bet to take me on a date. Was anything real?”

He took a step closer, his hands clenched at his sides. “You. You were real.”

Tears stung your eyes again. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

His jaw tightened. “Because I was a coward.” His voice cracked, and he ran a hand through his hair. “I never thought I’d fall for you. I asked you out for a stupid, stupid reason. But that first night, when you laughed at something I said when you looked at me like I wasn’t just some reckless bastard, that made it real. And every moment after that was never a joke to me. I never told you because I was afraid you’d walk away.” He let out a shaky breath. “And I couldn’t lose you.”

You stared at him, heart pounding.

Mattheo Riddle, proud and untouchable, stood before you completely unravelled.

And despite everything, despite the pain, you still loved him.

“I hate what you did to me,” you whispered.

“I hate myself for it,” he admitted. “But I swear to you, I would never hurt you like that again.” He stepped closer, reaching out hesitantly. “I love you, Y/N. And if you tell me it’s over, I’ll walk away. But if there’s any part of you that still believes in us-” He swallowed hard. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that I never needed a bet to want you.”

You closed your eyes, your heart waging war against your mind.

But when his fingers brushed yours you realized the truth.

You still wanted him.

But you were no fool.

"I want to believe, I really do. But... I was hiding my love for you, and you played me. I cannot look past that. You lied to me."

"Y/N, please I really meant what I said, I want you. I don't want to hide anymore."

"Would you have said the same if I didn't overhear you? Would you have said that you love me?"

"I don't want to lose you."

"You lost me the moment you played me. Please, leave. I need to be alone." you turned away from him, you only heard as he closed the door behind himself.

You wanted to believe him. But this truly hurt. Knowing he only started dating you because of a bet. Now, all of his words seemed like a lie.

---

Days passed and although Mattheo followed you almost like a lost puppy, you tried your best to ignore him.

He tried to find opportunities to speak to you, but you didn't allow it. You ran away. You figured he would give up.

He will move on.

He will find a new girl to play with.

You just had to hold out until then.

But then days turned into a week, a week turned into a month.

Now the entire school was whispering about you and Mattheo.

He didn't give up.

It got to a point where you had to hide from him, hiding in the school grounds. You finally managed to find a tree that hid you from the others.

But of course, Mattheo found you.

"Can I sit?" he asked but you didn't look up from your book. He sat down next to you on the ground, he kept his distance.

Everything in you told you to leave, except for your heart.

Your heart, as if it had its own way of life, begged for you to go to him so he could hold you as if your heart was missing its other half.

And what your heart desired, made your mind daydream. You were reminded of the way everything used to be.

How you two were hiding behind trees and bushes, how he looked at you. How he still looks at you.

You looked up from your book just as he got ready to light his cigarette.

You groaned and reached out, snatching it from his lips, you broke the thing in half.

"I told you to quit," you said before moving back to your place and trying your best to read your book.

But you were only pretending. You could see him watching you from the corner of your eye.

"I want you back. I need you. I don't think you truly understand just how much." you looked up at him from your book, his eyes were intense, and they held meaning and purpose.

You closed your eyes for a moment, you needed to think. Your next move will decide everything, the weight of that almost crushed you.

So you opened your eyes and whispered, “Then prove it.”

And he did, he moved so fast, your mind didn't even register it.

You only realised that he was right in front of you when his lips met yours, it wasn’t just a kiss.

It was a promise.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[astraljedi]

With you, I serve

With you, I fall down - Joaquin Torres

This wasn't requested and I haven't written in a while for Tumblr, but I suddenly had the itch to write this after watching Captain America yesterday. I've loved this man since forever and its a shame that I started so late to write for him! Warnings: Contains spoilers from Captain America: Brave New World, angst, mention of war & combat trauma, severe injuries (burns, surgery)

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Female OC

Word Count: 2,931

Song: epiphany by Taylor Swift

A/N: For every Joaquin fic I write, I’ll be using my OC. It makes writing easier for me when I can create a character with a backstory. I don't include any detailed descriptions of the OC, other than that she's female.

Unknown Location, Military Base – 08:45

“I want to make this clear: everyone in this room is considered the top of your class as pilots. Your classmates are not your enemy—ego is your enemy,” I begin, scanning the faces of the pilots seated before me. “We are all here for one reason: to protect those who need protecting. We might butt heads during flight practice, but get this through your skulls. We defend the helpless, and we all make it back alive.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the class chants, posture rigidly straight. I stand at the front of the room, just beside the podium I refuse to use. With a nod, I dismiss them to retrieve their flight gear and prepare their planes for their first flight evaluation.

As I gather my belongings to do the same, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I glance at the screen—unknown caller ID.

“Captain, a word.”

I turn to see Colonel Matthews stepping into the classroom. I’ve been under his wing since I started my career and he was still a lieutenant. I enlisted after my mother passed during deployment, and he gave me the support and time to grieve. But he also made sure I knew I was more than my mother’s legendary career. I built my own, becoming a pilot and now a flight instructor.

“Colonel, of course.” I set my phone atop my files and face him.

“What do you think of the class? I need your honest opinion.” His brows are nearly stuck together, and he shifts on his feet, the stress written all over his face.

“Well, on paper, they look good, but I haven’t started their evaluations yet,” I admit. This assignment was suddenly dropped on me, so I only had a few hours to go over their files last night. I barely slept, and during my morning FaceTime with my boyfriend, he didn’t hesitate to scold me for it. As if he has any room to talk when he can knock out the second his head hits the pillow, while I need a full ritual just to get a decent six hours. “I’ll have a solid opinion after their flight practice.”

“Good. With what happened at the White House, Celestial Island, and whatever the hell decides to show up next, we need the best.”

When half the world disappeared, we adjusted and survived. But when suddenly everyone came back, it was chaos. And things just keep happening. Now we live in a new fear—what if the Blip wasn’t the worst? What if something bigger is out there?

“We do.” I nod. “And I know I can push these pilots to their full potential.”

“Oh, I know. That’s why you’re here.” He smiles, patting my shoulder. “Your mother would be proud of you.”

I force a smile, ignoring the faint ache in my chest. “Thank you.”

He glances at my still-vibrating phone and raises a brow. “Looks like someone really wants to talk to you.”

I hesitate, then pick it up. “Excuse me, Colonel. This might be an emergency.”

With a small nod from him, I step into the hallway and answer. “Hello?”

“How’s my gorgeous girl?”

My body melts against the wall as my shoulders loosen, the stress of the morning fading instantly.

“Better now that I’m talking to you.” My cheeks burn. It’s just a phone call, and yet he flusters me so easily. “Why are you calling from an unknown number? Is everything okay?”

“Not really—but we’re okay,” Joaquin sighs. “Listen, I’m going off the grid with Sam. I don’t know when I’ll be able to call or when I’ll be back. That’s all I can say for now.”

I sigh. I really miss him. It’s been weeks since I last saw him. We didn’t even get a proper date night. Instead, we ended up tearing down a wall in the house and pulling out carpet so filthy I don’t even want to guess when it was last cleaned.

“Don’t worry, yo entiendo.” That’s the thing about this job—you never know when you’ll be pulled into a mission or how long you’ll be gone.

“Please try not to worry too much,” he says gently, as if he can already sense my anxiety kicking in. “I’ll call when things clear up.”

I’m proud of him. I really am. But that damn Falcon suit still terrifies me. Some nights, I have to drag him away from working on it and into bed with me. Usually, that’s not an issue, but he’s too damn excited about having his own suit.

“Yo siempre me voy a preocupar por ti, Torres.” I push away the image of him falling from the sky, replacing it with something softer—his smile. The one I catch in the rare quiet of the morning when our schedules align. The one that greeted me at the airport after my deployment. The one he wore when he finally asked me out.

“I have to go,” he says, voice quieter now. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” My throat tightens. “Try to be careful. Please.”

“I’ll try.”

The Following Day, 22:00

“Today wasn’t terrible,” the exhausted group of pilots sighs. Some throw themselves onto the sofa, while others collapse onto the floor.

I could’ve gone easy on them—it’s only their second day with me. But that’s not my style. They’re decent pilots, and with a few tweaks, they’ll graduate as the best.

“Captain Estrada.”

I turn as Captain Sofia Ramos, my best friend, rushes into the common room, her face tight with urgency. “You need to see this.”

My gut clenches. I already know. Even before she grabs the remote and turns on the small TV mounted on the wall, I know.

Joaquin.

The broadcast cuts to footage from Celestial Island, the contested territory between America and Japan. My eyes lock onto the screen, and suddenly, no one else in the room exists. Just me and that damn TV light.

No. No, no, no.

I silently beg any god who will listen as I watch the Falcon in the background, disarming missiles—missiles fired from American fighter pilots.

“Everyone, clear out,” Ramos orders.

The pilots groan but comply, irritated that they’re being kicked out when Captain America is on-screen. They don’t get it. They don’t see what I see.

While everyone else watches Sam, my eyes are locked on the blurry figure in the background, engaging with the other pilots.

“What are they doing?” My voice is barely above a whisper, desperate. Every time Joaquin moves, nausea churns in my stomach.

“All I know is that our guys fired first,” Ramos says, her tone clipped. “It looks like Cap and Falcon are trying to stop them.”

I hear her, but I don’t respond. I can’t. My entire focus is glued to the screen. Paperwork be damned—I have to be here.

Sofia kneels beside me, wrapping a steadying arm around my shoulders. I always worry when Joaquin’s on a mission, not knowing where he is or who he’s fighting. But this—this is my worst nightmare. A front-row seat to him in combat, in the Falcon suit he spent countless hours perfecting. And I can’t do a damn thing.

“What are you doing?” My breath catches as the camera pans to Sam, with Joaquin in the background, flying straight toward two missiles.

“Shoot them down,” I beg the screen, as if he can hear me.

One missile explodes harmlessly in the distance.

The second—

Joaquin flies straight into it as it detonates.

The camera jerks away, refocusing on Sam.

“No—get him back! Move the camera!” I cry, scrambling to my feet, legs unsteady beneath me. “Did you see him fall? Please, tell me you saw him.”

I turn to Sofia, cheeks wet with tears, pleading for an answer neither of us has.

“If he fell, rescue will get to him,” she says firmly, pulling me into her, holding me tight as my body shakes from sobbing. “You and I know how it feels to be on that side. They have only the best there. He will make it home.”

I cling to her words, but fear sinks its claws deep into my chest.

“If I have to pull rank, I will get you on the next flight when he gets back,” she promises.

I nod weakly against her shoulder, unable to say anything past the lump in my throat.

Washington, DC - 14:34

In the end, Sofia didn’t have to pull rank. Colonel Matthews himself got me on a plane and straight to the hospital.

But now, standing outside, I can’t get in.

“Ma’am, I can’t let you in there. Only authorized personnel are allowed.”

I’ve been arguing with this officer for more than ten minutes, but he won’t budge. He won’t even listen.

“I’m his wife! I need to see him,” I shout, my voice cracking. Desperation claws at my throat, but the words don’t seem to reach him.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. You haven’t been cleared to enter the building.”

My hands shake as I pull out my military credentials and shove them toward him. “I work for the Air Force. Isn’t that clearance enough for you?”

His expression doesn’t waver. “I’m sorry, but no.”

I exhale sharply. Behind me, the press stirs, their voices rising, cameras flashing like lightning in a storm. But I can’t be bothered to care.

“You don’t understand—no one will tell me anything. I need to know if he’s okay.” My voice breaks, the hours of agony finally taking their toll. The waiting, the silence, the unanswered calls—it’s been unbearable. Joaquin could be—

No. I can’t let my mind go there.

“Vanessa?”

The familiar voice makes my head snap up.

Sam.

I could’ve kissed his feet right then and there.

“Sam! I need to see him, please.”

He looks like hell. His face is bruised, exhaustion etched deep into his features. His eyes, heavy with worry, probably mirror my own.

Sam doesn’t hesitate. “Officer, thank you for doing your job, but she’s with me.” He reaches for my hand, pulling me gently to his side.

The officer stiffens. “Of course, Captain. I apologize.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sam shakes his hand before leading me inside.

I pick at my nail beds as a nurse guides us toward a gallery room.

“Are you sure you want to see him like this?” Sam asks, his voice low.

I nod. If I try to speak, I’ll break.

He hesitates. “He’s on the table now. He has burns, and it’s not pretty, sweetheart.”

“I’ve been at war too, Sam,” I say carefully.

Sam exhales, then pushes the door open. I step inside first, my pulse thundering in my ears.

I’ve spent years in the force. I’ve seen injuries—horrific, fatal ones. I’ve suffered them myself.

But nothing—nothing—could have prepared me for this.

Joaquin lies on the operating table, his body covered in burns, his skin raw and blistered. Doctors and nurses move around him in a blur, their voices overlapping as they work tirelessly.

My knees buckle.

Sam catches me before I hit the floor.

“It’s one thing being kept in the dark when he’s away,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the hum of machines. “But watching it happen on TV was a living nightmare.” My throat tightens. “I can’t take my eyes off him now. I’m scared that if I blink, he’ll be gone.”

Sam is quiet for a long moment. Then, barely above a whisper, he says, “I’m sorry.” His hands are deep in his pockets, his shoulders tense. “I tried. But I failed the kid.”

I shake my head immediately. “Don’t you dare, Sam Wilson.” My voice steadies, sharp with conviction. “This isn’t your fault. I don’t blame you, and neither will he.”

His jaw clenches. “I could’ve done more.”

“You carry the weight of the world, Sam. We do the best we can out there—we try to save everyone. But sometimes, we can’t.” I reach for his arm, squeezing gently. “You saved the day. You both did. And I’m grateful you made it back home.”

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “You would’ve beaten my ass if I didn’t bring him back in one piece.”

A small, watery smile tugs at my lips. “If the both of you had died out there, I would’ve brought you back just to kill you myself.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, and I nudge his arm playfully, the moment of levity breaking through the weight in the room.

But when I look back at Joaquin, the lump in my throat returns.

“You two are important to me,” I say softly. “Don’t ever forget that.”

And as I watch the machines breathe for Joaquin, I silently pray he heard me too.

A Few Days Later - 13:11

“Surgery went well. There were some complications, but thankfully, he’s stable now,” I say into the phone, my voice still laced with exhaustion.

“I’m glad, honey.” Sofia’s voice is a balm on the other end. “You had me scared for a second there.”

“Thank you. If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve completely broken down in front of everyone.” I exhale, pressing my fingers to my temple. The memory of that moment—when the weight of everything nearly crushed me—is still fresh. If Sofia hadn’t cleared the room before I shattered entirely, I don’t know what I would’ve done. “Honestly? I blacked out. I don’t even remember getting on the plane. It wasn’t until Sam was walking me toward the hospital that my brain seemed to wake up.”

“Has he woken up yet?”

“No. They put him in an induced coma to help his body heal, but he’s been stirring more lately. It won’t be long now.” My voice softens. Joaquin was there for me when my body endured its own battles—now it’s my turn to return the favor. For now, Sofia and Colonel Matthews will oversee my squadron’s training while I stay behind to help Joaquin recover.

“I have to go, but keep me in the loop, babes.” We exchange quick goodbyes before she hangs up, off to oversee flight maneuvers for the team.

I tug at the sleeves of Joaquin’s favorite football hoodie—the one I’ve been practically living in since the moment I stepped into the hospital. His scent lingers in the fabric, the only comfort I’ve had in days. The only time I’ve left his side has been when Isaiah or Sam dragged me away to eat or take a quick shower.

Even now, my stomach twists in knots. Sam brought me food, a thoughtful gesture, but I can barely stomach more than a few bites of fries before nausea wins again. I wrap the leftovers back into the paper bag and sit on the bench in the hospital’s courtyard, letting the late afternoon breeze wash over me. Sam had forced me outside, insisting I needed fresh air that wasn’t recycled through hospital vents.

Eventually, I make my way back inside, my steps heavy with exhaustion. The press has finally cleared out, leaving the entrance eerily quiet. I offer the nurses a small, tired smile as I head toward Joaquin’s room, already dreading another night on that stiff hospital sofa—the damn thing might as well be made of cardboard.

I reach for the door handle but freeze.

A sound echoes from inside.

Laughter.

My pulse spikes.

I push the door open, my breath catching at the sight before me.

Joaquin. Awake.

He and Sam are laughing about something, the warm, familiar sound hitting me like a punch to the chest.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Joaquin says, his voice rough, tired—alive.

Just like that, the tears I’ve been holding back finally spill over.

His face has more color now, the rawness of his injuries still evident but softened by the warmth of his smile—the same smile I fell in love with all those years ago.

It’s only been a few days. But it feels like a lifetime.

“Come here,” he murmurs, opening his arms.

I don’t hesitate. I slip onto the bed carefully, resting my head against his chest, listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart. For the first time in days, the world outside disappears. Neither of us notices when Sam quietly slips out of the room giving us some privacy.

His arms wrap around me, firm despite the exhaustion in his body. A quiet groan slips from him at the movement, and I start to pull back, worried, but he tightens his hold—well, as much as he can.

“Don’t you dare, wife,” Joaquin teases, his thumb brushing my shoulder.

I let out a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “I needed a way to get in and stay here with you.”

“I love the sound of you being my wife, but for now, let’s focus on that fixer-upper you begged me to leave an offer on.”

I roll my eyes. “Begged? Please. I barely had to convince you.”

He chuckles. “The second you mentioned an outdoor kitchen and a barbecue pit, I was done for.”

I grin. “Don’t worry. I’m in no rush.” Because right now, I have everything I need—him, here, safe.

“Mrs. Vanessa Torres has a nice ring to it,” he muses.

I tilt my head, smirking. “Mrs. Vanessa Torres-Estrada sounds even better.”

His lips curl into a slow smile. “You got yourself a deal.”

He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my empty ring finger before pulling me in for the first real kiss we’ve shared in weeks.

And for the first time in days, I finally breathe.

[anyarose011]

Such an Old Fashioned Word {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: The rest of your winter break is spent at Barton, though not completely uneventful. Last minute secrets are shared to ring out the new year, and all seems well for the next semester. Yet, even on the first day, that's not all true.

Part 10 of 10 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Swearing, unserious injury, mention of past child abuse, and the return of Teddy Kountze.

Welp, we've reached the end (of the movie) you guys. Don't worry, I'm making a small epilogue, but just wanted to give this first. Before it's officially over though, I just wanted to thank all of you SO much for all of your support. I am truly forever grateful for all of you guys' enthusiasm. Also, everybody say "Thank you, Anya" for putting the original Queen audio of "Under Pressure" when I was this 🤏close to making it the Aftersun version 🥰🥰

Word Count: 7.5k

The car ride back to Barton was mostly silent. Not a nasty, bitter, awkward silence; no, this was a mix of exhaustion, but also content. Even though it was just an hour and a half drive from Boston, your father and Mary still thought it was best to leave a little bit after dawn; that, and the hotel was kicking you out around that time.

You had no shame either as you laid sideways in the backseat, feet draped over Angus’ lap. He kept his hands glued to his side, but he didn’t look uncomfortable either. You know that there was a hint of it though; it’d be bad if there wasn’t as your father and his teacher drove the car.

It was December 28th when you had returned from your little ‘field trip’. Two more weeks until the spring semester started back at the school…there wasn’t much else to do. So, the five of you, now with Danny deciding to join more days than less, decided to make the most of it.

There were a few, eventful days; you and Angus decided to cook for everyone instead of having Mary do it one night.

(“Alright, a tablespoon of salt.” You poured it into the pot.

He was silent for an odd amount of time, before saying your name. “That was a cup.”)

Perhaps it wasn’t a smart idea to stay up until four in the morning, reading. You didn’t risk sneaking into Angus’ room at night after Boston, considering the conversation you both had to have with your father.

(It wasn’t the first day back in Barton, but the next. It was after lunch that you and Angus were simply sitting on opposite sides of the couch in the large study, reading separately. The door opened, and you both looked up to see your father, looking more nervous than you’d ever seen on a normal day.

“Are you alright, papa?” You sat up, asking him with a hint more affection.

He nodded. “Yes, I just wanted to speak to you both about something.”

You already knew what it was, yet you still hoped it wasn’t it. You and Angus leaned forward in anticipation

Your father took a deep breath. “I noticed that you both have become close over the winter break, especially after Boston…I feel as if I have t know if the two of you are-.”

“-Yes.” Angus nodded. “We’re…together.”

“Ah,” he nodded, exhaling.

“Is that alright?”

“Yes, it’s just,” your father huffed a laugh. “frankly, I didn’t think I’d have this conversation for quite some time.”

“Why,” you jested. “you thought I wasn’t desirable to boys my age?”

“No, you just knew your worth, and we both assumed no boy was capable of amounting to it.” He turned to Angus. “I don’t believe in miracles very often, but perhaps I will just this once. We would not be having this conversation a week ago. Yet, in this short amount of time, you have shown me that you are a respectful and selfless young man. If any one of my students had the privilege of courting my daughter, I’m glad it’s you.”

Angus smiled at the sentiment, no matter how strangely it was worded. “Thank you, Mr. Hunham.”

He nodded. “Now, I will say that there’s a matter of how physically affectionate you two are together-.”

“-Papa,” you stopped him. “out of the three of us in the room, you’re the last one to be scared of me getting pregnant.”

Angus and your father didn’t make a sound; they didn’t need to, their eyes said it all. Still, you said it without a hint of discomfort. Even if you felt it, you didn’t show it; it was a true statement. It was almost as if you would be dealing with the brunt of pregnancy, and Angus would face the other part of it.

“Well…” Your father cleared his throat. “I wasn’t going to say it outright, only allude. Still…just be respectful; in public and not.”

“Okay.” You audibly responded, while Angus kept his head down to hide the pinkness of his skin, nodding.

“Alright.” Your father sighed, then moved swiftly to exit the room. “It was lovely having this talk; one I will go and pretend we never had unless one of us brings it up.”

“Love you, dad.” You said once he left. When the door was shut, you glanced back at Angus. “You good?”

He pursed his lips. “Ask me in an hour.”)

The most notable thing to happen after that talk was New Years. You, Mary, and Angus, had prepared a feast for supper; Angus finally joined to cook simply because he didn’t trust you the last time you held a cooking utensil. Danny joined that night as well as all of you were in the teacher’s lounge, watching Guy Lombardo and the Royal Canadians, waiting for the ball to drop.

(“Man, I sure do wish we had some noisemakers.” Mary commented, sitting in between you and Angus.

“I’ve got one.” Angus pulled one out from his back pocket without missing a beat.

Danny huffed from beside you. “Where the hell did you get that?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “found it.”

You and he went on another “adventure” through the tunnels, broke into the dormitories, and snooped around.

Your father shook his head, taking it. “Well, you’re not deploying that in here.”

“You know, you weren’t so uptight in Boston.” You teased, then turned to Danny. “As the head janitor-.”

“-I’m the only janitor.” He elbowed you.

“Where do you stand on indoor fireworks?”

“About as far away as I can.”

Mary nodded. “Very wise.”

The countdown on the TV began, and all of you stood up. To everyone’s concern though, you and Angus dashed behind the couch.

“What’re you doing?” Your father laughed.

You took the bowl of grapes off the table. “Tradition.”

It was something you yourself started when you were seven after befriending a girl from Puerto Rico in the second grade. You told your parents about it, and your mother took part happily; although, she had you eat half the grapes, and she’d eat the other half so you wouldn’t choke.

You brought it up to Angus one night, and he wanted to do it too. You didn’t even have to suggest it.

As both you and Angus crouched under the table, the three adults counted down in excitement, and you joined them.

“Happy New Year!” You all screamed, and after giving Angus a peck on the cheek, you started devouring the grapes. He soon followed.

It was clumsy, and as you both fought over a grape or two, you had to force yourself not to laugh as you simultaneously ate. Angus would sit up and hit his head on the table, and all you could do was smother your laughter and run your fingers over the spot in an effort to soothe him. You swallowed your last grape just as the clock hit 12:01.

“Shit!” Angus snickered, seeing that there were two more in the bowl.

“Damn.” You shook your head. “You’re gonna have two months of bad luck.”

“Is it January and February, or November and December?”

“I don’t think you get to choose.”

“Children.”

You and Angus perked your heads up at your father’s calling. He held the noisemaker high in his hand. “Would you like to light this sucker off in the kitchen, or outside?”

Angus grinned from ear to ear. “Considering it’s like minus ten outside…”

“The kitchen it is.” Mr. Hunham huffed.

“What?” Both Danny and Mary gasped.

You giggled, crawling out from under the table and helping Angus stand as well. Your father and boyfriend rushed to the kitchen like excited children, Angus holding the firecracker, and your father striking a match. You, Danny, and Mary simply stood outside of the kitchen in a mix of terror and amusement.

Once the noisemaker was bursting with light, Angus threw it down the end of the kitchen where there was nothing else in sight. You didn’t see the explosion but heard it for a second before then a slight ringing entering your ears.

There were three things you heard once your hearing returned: Uncontrollable laughter from everyone around you, Mary playfully scolding everyone, and the echoes of Auld Lang Syne from the TV.

You always thought nostalgia was only something you’d feel as an adult, remembering what it was like to be a child. You never thought you’d feel it all at once as it was happening to you.

It was a joyful day for the most part, but that moment had struck a strange feeling within you.

You told Angus about it that night before you went to bed, and he was honest with you; he hadn’t shared the same feeling, but could understand it.

He kissed you goodnight, and that was that.

You felt a little better.)

The only other interesting thing you did was invite Elise over to Barton on her last day before she’d go home for school.

(You, Elise, and Angus finished building a family of snowmen when you decided to scale up the hill of the chapel with your sleds. After going down a few times, Elise turned to you once you were all back up at the top.

“I dare you to stand while sledding down.” She smirked.

“Done.” Was all you said, setting your sled down.

Angus could only say your name before you took the dare. In short, you ended up falling halfway down, and rolled the rest of the way, twisting your ankle and gaining a fresh set of bruises.

It was actually quite funny the differing reactions in the two as they stood on either side of you, your arms draped around their shoulders.

“I give that an eight out of ten.” Elise teased.

“Why?” you grunted as you hobbled on your feet.

“You didn’t eat enough shit.”

“She’s eaten too much!” Angus stressed.

You cackled. “I did fall in some yellow snow. It was lemony.”

In all honesty, the earful your father gave you for being hurt was less than what Angus gave you for the joke you made).

Everyone except Mary hovered over you after that. Even though all you needed was to wear a brace and wrap your foot for a week, they acted as if you had that foot in the grave. Especially Angus, which actually surprised you.

Still, three days before the end of winter break, and one day before students could show up back on campus, you hobbled out of your bed.

It was half an hour before sunrise, and you had made it a last-minute goal to watch it with him. When winter break was over, you’d return back to the faculty housing; back to your own room which you appreciated, but you’d see Angus far less.

So, just like old times, you tiptoed into his room to wake him up.

Yet…he was awake; for the very first time, he was awake. You saw as how the light of the moon bled into the room, and you watched as he sat up, his knees to his chest, and rubbing his nose.

“Angus?” You whispered. He snapped his gaze over to you but didn’t flinch upon hearing your voice. As you got closer, you saw the unmistakable sight of tears upon his face. “Why are you crying?”

 He swallowed thickly. “I-I had a dream about my dad.”

Your face fell, and you sat beside him on the bed. “Bad?”

“No.” He shook his head. “It was good.”

Where Angus was confused at your feeling of bitter nostalgia on New Years, you were completely bewildered at that moment. Still, you did your best not to show it.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

He inhaled, trembling. “I just…it was weird, but it wasn’t? I was at home, I don’t know if I was ten, or seventeen, but I woke up and felt normal. I was in my childhood house, I went downstairs and saw he was reading the paper and-and my mom was making bread. I thought I woke up and the rest of my life had been a dream. I didn’t know what was real.”

Your heart crumbled at his recounting; not just from how he’d weep over something he described as good, but from it hitting too close to home.

“I had dreams like that.” You confessed in a whisper.

He dropped his gaze from yours, only to then lay fully down on the bed. You followed, draping an arm over him.

“He said sorry.” Angus said, not looking at you.

“For what?”

He didn’t respond right away. “He pushed me off the porch after when I was thirteen…I kind of deserved it, I was being a little shit. I’d gotten into a fight at school with this asshole kid who stole my backpack, and my dad was trying to talk to me about it. I yelled at him when trying to leave the house, and…yeah, he pushed me. He felt bad right away and patched me up; I just got a bruise and a scratch, it wasn’t bad. Mom found out and…we’d already known about his condition, but she called Pinehills as soon as she got home, and he was taken away that night.”

You wanted to say a lot. Say how it wasn’t his fault, how there was no excuse to push him when he was so much younger…but you couldn’t, you know it wouldn’t help. Instead, you brought your hand up to his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek and forcing him to look at you.

“Do you want kids?”

He furrowed his brow. “I-I…what?”

So, you said it again. “Do you want kids when you grow up?”

“I…” he wiped his face. “I don’t even know what I want in the next year.”

“Would you ever push them?” He sighed your name, but you didn’t stop. “Even if they were being an asshole?”

He shook his head. “I know what you’re doing.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I’m serious-.”

“-So am I.”

Angus took a deep breath, leaning into your touch. “No. No I wouldn’t.”

You pulled him into you, and immediately his arms wrapped around your waist. He didn’t make a sound, but his body shook with repressed sobs. All you could do was run your fingers through his hair.

When all was said and done, he was the first to pull away from you, only to kiss you with a gentleness you hadn’t felt before from a man.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

Smiling, you shook your head. “There’s nothing to thank me for. Now, get up.”

He hummed, sitting up once you stood. “Why?”

You took his hand. “I wanna see the sunrise.”

“It’s too cold out-.”

“-I don’t care.”

“Your leg’s bad.”

“So, carry me.”

He snickered, getting out of bed and slipping his shoes and jacket on. He turned away from you, crouching down.

“Come on.”

You shook your head. “It’s actually not that bad, I was just kidding-.”

“-I’m not.”

So, you let him. Well, you both waited until you were outside to get on his back, then saying it was so you wouldn’t get your feet cold. He carried you through the snow for a few minutes until he stumbled, realizing he wasn’t as strong as his ego.

But you both sat at the top of the hill of the chapel, seldomly speaking and just waiting for the sun to rise up from the east. You’d never experienced a twilight so beautiful than in early January of 1971 at Barton. The shade of purple in the sky reflecting off the snow seemed to be more memorable than the sunrise itself.

Still, as the sun peeked up through the trees, and a new day was born, your cheeks started to hurt from smiling so much.

That was the last day of your own personal winter break.

Even though the semester didn’t technically start until two days after that, you and your father had still gone back to the faculty housing, as some teachers had also returned early to prepare for the remainder of the year.

You didn’t notice how lonely you’d been until you step foot back into your room, which you had deemed your sanctuary. While it still served as such, you found yourself missing Angus.

Despite the fact he was just a short walk away, you wanted to take some time apart. You…adored him (it was too early to call it love), but you still needed some space. It was fitting that your father invited you to come in on the first day back.

“Brush up on the Peloponnesian War.” He said at dinner the night of January 10th. “I wanna give the pubescent boys a warmup before their exam retake.”

Not even the Cheshire Cat could form a grin wider than yours.

He didn’t teach Angus’ class until eleven, so you thankfully had time to sleep in and review. It felt strange to enter the school as boys your age and younger rushed past you, either getting to class or fooling around with one another.

The stares were strange too. Although, where you once would shrink into yourself as you walked, every step now had a surge of confidence while they gawked at a girl their age walking the same halls they did.

When turning a corner, you quite literally almost ran into a boy.

“Oh shit, sorry-.” He looked up, and you recognized his voice, but his face and most notably his hair took you by surprise. He smiled upon seeing you. “Miss Hunham.”

You blinked before chuckling. “Jason. You cut your hair.”

“Yeah.” He tucked his hands in his pockets. “Figured it was time; it was getting in my face.”

“Not your dad?”

He didn’t say anything, only smiled before chuckling and giving himself away. “So uh, how was getting stuck over here for Christmas?”

You shrugged. “Not bad, actually. How was skiing?”

“Oh, you know, fun and stuff. I do it every year, so it was nice, but I don’t think I actually would’ve complained a lot if I stayed here.”

Thinning your lips, you still smiled politely. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, would’ve been different.”

It quickly was awkward, but not in the worst way. So, you decided to end it. “Happy New Years, Jason.”

He wished you the same sentiment, and you both were on your way. The second you entered your father’s classroom, all fell silent. Ten boys in that room all stared at you as if you’d grown a second head, and only one of them smiled before glancing back down at his notebook.

“Ah shit.” One of the boys awestricken said perhaps without meaning to.

Still, you walked to your father’s desk, sitting down. “Sorry.”

“We seriously have to deal with you? On the first day?”

You looked over at the aggravating voice you didn’t miss, and promptly nearly fell out of your seat. “Jesus Christ, why do you look like that?!”

A few chuckles were heard as you stared at Teddy Kountze, whose entire face, save for his eyes, was redder than the 1968 presidential election.

He glared at you before smirking. “I was gonna ask you the same thing, Hunham. How was being stuck here with Tully and your shitty dad?”

“It was lovely, thank you.” You decided to do a more “lady like” approach to throw him off.

“Really?” He asked. “You take any pictures?”

You glanced at Angus, whose once lighthearted eyes soon turned dark at the comment. Still, you smiled at him and pondered the question. You actually didn’t take any pictures with him, or anything of that winter break.

“No, actually.” You said. “I should have though.”

Teddy huffed. “Didn’t know you were that much of a slut-.”

“-That’s rich coming from the same species of human that fucked animals and blessed us with STDs.”

The room howled in laughter, even though it was technically a jab at the entirety of the male gender. Still, no one cackled louder than Angus Tully diagonally from you. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself; you’d written that comeback down a few years back, happy that you could finally use it.

All Teddy could do was glare daggers into your skin because soon your father entered the room with. “Welcome back, you snarling Visigoths. I trust you all enjoyed a refreshing holiday.” He walked to the front of the room, eyes falling on you. “Ah, you’ve made yourself comfortable.”

“Quite so.” You smirked.

He then looked at Teddy, flinching. “Oh, hello, Mr. Kountze. Or should I say Icarus? Fly a little too close to the sun, did we?”

The boy furrowed his brow. “Huh?”

“Yeah, all right. Along with your skiing and swimming, I hope you found time to enlighten yourselves about the Peloponnesian War and its implications for today. Just to check, I brought my lovely daughter you all know to test your knowledge before we retake the final from last semester. Omnia ex scrineis vestris praeter stilum.”

All of the boys in the room except for Angus groaned heavily. You stood up and walked to the front of the room with a pep in your step and so begun the third round of your trivia competition.

You were kinder this time; you didn’t immediately ring in your answer as soon as your father finished the question. Except for Teddy; in fact, it was in the middle of a question you decided to answer it.

Of course, the final question was between you and Angus.

“What did Sparta do after the Sicilian Expedition which ultimately helped it win the war?”

Neither of you spoke. Of course, Angus was wondering if you were going easy on him, and you were wondering the exact same thing.

The silence in the room only caused your mind to run into overdrive, going over every page you read in preparation just for this silly little game. Then, it hit you.

You smacked the desk and opened your mouth, but only a strangled syllable escaped before a woman’s voice entered your ears.

“Angus Tully?”

Lydia Crane poked her head into the classroom, and all eyes fell onto her. Angus, in somewhat of a shock, asked. “Yes?”

“Dr. Woodrup would like to see you.”

A chill entered the room, not from the cracked window in the corner of it, but from seven words alone. Angus, after taking them in, glanced at your father.

Keeping his cool, but also tension growing, he nodded. “You can retake it on an off period.”

The last thing Angus did was look at you. He didn’t even need to speak to tell you he was worried beyond compare. Yet…you didn’t know why.

He followed Miss Crane out, and the second he left, Teddy snickered. “One day back, and the basket case is already in trouble.”

“You shut your mouth, Theodore!” You spat.

“Hey!” Your father put his hand on your shoulder. “None of that here, this is a classroom, not the Colosseum. And as for you, Mr. Kountze, we’ll not talk like that any further.”

He shrugged, sheepishly. “Of course, Mr. Hunham.”

Your father said your name gently. “You’re excused. Thank you for attending today.”

Nodding, you marched out of the room and immediately rushed down the hall. You entered the bustling kitchen, half of the cooks cleaning up from breakfast, the other half preparing for lunch that was next period. It wasn’t hard to find Mary, who was the ringleader of the entire operation.

She sighed upon seeing you. “Miss Jane Bennett, I don’t have time for-.”

“-It’s Angus.”

There was a franticness building within your eyes, and it was only then she knew you were serious. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, he just got called to Woodrup’s office and that’s it.” You huffed. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but it feels wrong.”

“Okay.” She soothed, taking your hand, then turned to a woman beside her. “Clara, hold down the fort.”

Clara nodded, and both you and Mary left the kitchen. Despite being stuck in the school for weeks, it felt like a labyrinth to you once everyone came back. It was Mary who had to lead you through the halls until you were finally at the office. Just as you an Mary were approaching it, you watched as both Miss Crane and Angus left.

Their gaze met yours and Mary’s, and time seemed to stand still. It was Miss Crane who broke it. She squeezed Angus’ shoulder comfortingly.

“Go sit down.”

He carried himself over to the bench by the window as if he was a dead man walking, and he sat down as if the weight of the world was upon his shoulders. Before you could say anything, Miss Crane walked past you.

You sat beside Angus, looking at him but he wouldn’t meet your gaze. “What happened?”

“My mother and Stanley are here.”

No build up, no fear before the reveal, he said it like it was.

Yet, while there was no emotion behind his words, his face was the spitting image of one you saw in a history textbook. One that showed a soldier suffering from shell shock.

“I think I’m gonna get kicked out.” He said. “That means military school.”

You wanted to hug him, you wanted to take his hand and run away and move to Boston, New York, Chicago, hell, a little house in Nebraska of all places…but you couldn’t do that. You couldn’t even open your mouth to say something.

So, you just took his hand and placed your head on his shoulder. Mary stood in front of you both, leaning against the wall, and combing her fingers through Angus’ curls.

It felt strange seeing your father walk up to the principal’s door and not saying anything. He glanced at the three of you in confusion before entering the room.

You wanted to ask why, oh why, they were here? What made them of all days return for something so horrible and not to be warm to their son? Still, it didn’t feel right to barge him with questions, so, again, the three of you were there in silence together.

A few minutes passed, and the door opened. Out came your father with a look so solemn you felt like you could cry. He looked between the three of you awaiting his answer for whatever went on in that room.

“It’s this one.” He pointed to his right eye. “This is the one you should look at.”

You all looked at one another in puzzlement, yet even in that, there was a hint of humor in your slight grins.

The door opened, and Dr. Woodrup looked at Angus. “Angus, step inside, please.”

He followed, waiting until the last possible second to let go of your hand. When the door shut, your father looked at you, saying your name softly.

“Would you come with me, please?”

You know he wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t serious. The pain in your had left for just a moment, but then it found its way back when you heard those words. Still, you stood up and followed him.

Your father led you into a hallway that led to nowhere, crossing his arms.

“This…I will not lie and say that this is an easy thing to hear.” He began. “Angus had stolen a snow globe from Miss Crane’s house and gave it to his father at the sanitorium when we visited. It caused his father to have an episode, and he told the orderlies, who then told Angus’ mother. They came here with the conviction that Angus had manipulated us, and that sending him to military school would ‘straighten him’ out so to say…I told them it was solely my idea. I told them I encouraged him to visit his father…and for that, I am being asked to resign.”

“What?” Was all you could choke out.

He took a deep breath, placing his hands on your shoulders. “We’re leaving tomorrow. I’m really sorry, sweetheart.”

“No.” You shook your head. “No, they can’t do that. He-he, you fucking taught the asshole who’s headmaster!”

“I did, but you know that’s not how this works.”

“On-on the first day, are you serious?!” You laughed.

He said your name gently. “I know this upsets you, believe me, I am too-.”

“No, just,” you sighed, pulling away before walking down the hall. “I’m gonna go home.”

Your father shook his head. “You should start packing. We can figure out where we can-.”

“-I’ll see you after school.” Was all you said.

It didn’t feel real. Your father had just told you in less than a minute that you were leaving. Leaving a place you had essentially grown up in but not at the same time. Leaving a friend, a boyfriend, your very first one, leaving Mary…

Oh god…Mary.

You pushed yourself out of the school and rushed back to the faculty housing, doing your best to avoid anyone before you finally entered your room.

You didn’t cry…you felt the pain and sorrow fester within you, yet you didn’t cry. You wanted to break things, wanted to toss your entire desk out the window, but you didn’t.

There was nothing you could do, and that made it worse.

Your father ordered pizza for both of you that night, explaining more about the situation you were in. He had already packed most of his room up, but you hadn’t even started. He said that you’d drop all of your heavy belongings off at an old coworker’s house in Syracuse and then leave.

“I was thinking Carthage sounds nice.” He chimed in. “Then after that, perhaps Egypt? Or Rome even, I remember you said you always wanted to…”

You only nodded along, and you felt like you were out of your body as he helped you pack up a majority of your bedroom in just a few hours. It felt strange; you knew you were going to leave that year, with your unofficial graduation…yet there you were, leaving in the first month unexpectedly.

With a kiss upon your head, your father wished you goodnight, but you only tossed and turned in your bed.

You were nowhere close to drifting off when you heard something at our window. Sitting up, you pulled the curtains back, revealing Angus Tully standing outside below. You opened the window.

“What are you doing?!” You whisper-yelled.

“Come down here!” He responded.

 “It’s freezing, you come up here!”

“How do you expect me to do that?”

“You climb a rope in gym, climb the gutter.”

His eyes drew over to it, and with a heavy sigh, he latched his arms around it. He clumsily climbed his way up, using the house as a crutch. Thankfully, it wasn’t that far of a climb, and you pulled him into your room.

He landed on your bed harshly, nearly letting out a yelp if you didn’t cover his mouth in time.

“I beat you.” Was the first thing you said.

Angus took your hand, furrowing his eyes. “What?”

“The stupid trivia.” You swallowed thickly. “The Spartans started their own fleet and allied with Persia after the Sicilian Expedition. I was going to say that, and I was right. If you let me win, I’ll throw you out the window, I swear to God.”

He sat up, his gaze softening the longer he looked at you. Then, with a tenderness that pained you, he pulled you into an embrace.

That was when you finally cried. You clutched the fabric of his shirt until your knuckles turned white, attempting to muffle your sobs. Angus only held you tighter, kissing this base of your neck and running his hand up and down your back.

“Why’d you take it?” You asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Why’d you give it to him?”

“I…I wanted him to have something.” He pulled away only to see your face. “I’m sorry. I know it means nothing, but I really am. I didn’t…I wasn’t thinking.”

You shook your head. “I think we’re gonna leave the country.”

“What?” His voice was strangled.

“Why not? He’s old and hasn’t gone in forever, and I’ve never been outside of America.”

Angus dropped his head, as if it was only then did the gravity of the situation weigh heavy on him. When he finally looked at you again, he took your face into his hands.

“I’m gonna come clean.” He said. “I’ll tell Dr. Woodrup the truth, and that-.”

“-You’re a fucking idiot.”

You never spoke to him like that. Whenever you were angry at him, you were snarky, you were a know it all, but only then, did you say something horrible like you meant it.

Of course, he was absolutely taken aback, but he already knew you had more to say once you pulled back.

“If you get sent to Fork Union, I’m never speaking to you again.” You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter if you write me a letter or a thousand, I will make myself forget everything that happened this Christmas. You’re too smart, no, too fucking brilliant to do some stupid shit and get yourself thrown into Vietnam. Don’t waste it.’

He nodded as soon as you were finished. “I won’t. I…I’m gonna miss you.”

Exhaustion pulled on you as soon as he said that, and you sighed. “I don’t wanna go.”

Angus kissed your cheek, his eyes then traveling around your almost barren room. On your desk sat a familiar book. He picked it up, flipping through the pages. “I’ve never actually read this before.”

“Really? It’s so short.”

“Did you ever find the one your dad gave you?”

“Yeah, I packed that one up.”

He smiled. “How about I read it to you? It’s one of your favorites, right?”

You snorted. “You have school in the morning.”

“I don’t care.”

That’s how you both came to lie down on your bed, and he read The Little Prince aloud to you. It was a memory you wouldn’t forget, even if he landed himself in military school.

You fell asleep nearing the end of the book, and Angus Tully did not wake you to say goodbye.

You thought you’d woken up from a horrible dream, only to then see that your room was still packed, and The Little Prince was neatly set on your desk with a note from Angus.

I put the number and address of the school at the bottom in case you forgot. Thank you for being the best part of my year.

-Angus

You held the note to your chest, falling back down onto your bed. Whether that was God, Allah, Zues, Aphrodite, or perhaps even the spirit of Jane Austen, you were going to beat the shit out of the author to your story once you were dead.

After a moment to yourself, you got dressed and packed up the last of your things, deciding to put the book in your backpack. You didn’t know what time it was, but you were starving, so you’d gone down into the faculty kitchen, flat out ignoring whatever stares or feigned condolences that were given to you from others.

What surprised you was Mary Lamb sitting at the main table.

“And I thought I helped raise you better to come and say goodbye to me.” She scolded you, but with a hint of playfulness.

You sat down beside her. “I didn’t want to cry again.”

“Cry until your eyes fall out.” She said. “It hurts less than holding it all in.”

“I don’t…” You sighed. “I can’t say goodbye. I think I’ll die the second I step out of this house.”

“Okay, now you’re just being dramatic.”

“I’m not!” You whined dramatically.

She snickered, taking your hand. “You listen to me now; you’re not going to die. You’re going to grow older and do whatever you want. You’re gonna travel the world, and you’re…what do you want to be when you grow up?”

You didn’t have an answer. “I don’t actually know…I’ve always like writing-.”

“-Okay, then you’re gonna be a famous writer, and you’re gonna be taught in classrooms a hundred years from now where the snot nosed brats will be bored. Or you’re just gonna figure it out because you don’t need to know right now. How does that sound?”

Smiling shyly, you squeezed her hand. “It sounds good.”

“Good. Now come on, you have to make me jealous you’re gonna travel the world.”

You shook your head, giggling. “And what are you gonna do?”

“Me?” She scoffed. “I’m staying here until God calls me home. That, and making money to send my nephew to college.”

“Peggy knows it’s a boy?”

“I think it’s gonna be.”

You hummed. “I’m gonna make a lot of money so we can live on the beach for however long you want.”

“And I’m holding you to that.”

She went up to speak with your father, and you began loading your things into the U-Haul trailer connected to your father’s car. As you were picking up your last box, two familiar boys approached you.

“Ah,” you smiled upon seeing Alex and Ye-Joon. “I was wondering if you two survived.”

Ye-Joon gave you a look. “Survived what?”

“Skiing. Sounds quite dangerous.” You set your box into the trailer.

Alex shook his head. “No, it was great! I’m sorry you and Angus couldn’t come.”

“Don’t be. We actually…” you paused, feeling sudden emotion creep up on you. “we became really good friends. Thanks for the suggestion.”

“So,” Ye-Joon asked. “why are you and your dad leaving?”

“Did he get fired?” Alex followed.

You shook your head. “They caught him eating cat shit and saw me dancing naked on the football field while performing a pagan ritual.”

They stared at you with a horror you had never seen in boys.

“No, I’m just messing with you.” You laughed. “They had to make cuts for money reasons and my dad was the first to go. You tell people that if they say something, you hear?”

They nodded, muttering ‘yes’ and ‘of course’. With a final wave and wishing of ‘goodbye!’ they ran back to school. Your father soon came out, hauling out a few more boxes.

“Don’t tell me you scared them before we leave?”

You took one from him. “I made them think I was a witch for a few seconds.”

The two of you laughed, and when you looked up, you then saw one Angus Tully walking towards you. He smiled.

“Hi…”

Your father returned the gesture. “Hello.”

“Look…I don’t know what you said to my mom and Stanley, Woodrup. All I know is that I’m not getting kicked out, and you got fired.”

“I just told the truth; mostly.”

He smiled. “Barton man.”

“Barton man.” The bell rang as soon as the sentiment was spoken, and your father opened the door to the trailer, mumbling. “Fifth period.”

Angus didn’t take his eyes off of you even as you tried to avoid them. You caught a glimpse of red beginning to outline them, as if he was holding back tears. Then, rubbing his face, he said.

“You know, it’s only PE. Maybe I could skip it, and we could head over to the Winning Ticket, grab a burger and a beer?”

“Are you shitting me?” You chuckled.

Your father playfully shoved you. “Language. A Miller High Life, no doubt? You never give up, do you?”

“They already fired you, so I figured it was worth a shot.” He shrugged sheepishly then looked at you. “We never got to play pinball.”

“I would’ve beat you, and you know it.”

“Just because you won trivia doesn’t mean you’ll win everything.”

Your father touched your shoulder to get your attention. “I left something in the house, I’ll be back in a second.”

You had an inkling right away he lied to give you privacy, but he wouldn’t confirm it for another month. Still, you nodded, and he went back into the house, leaving you and Angus alone. He tucked his hands into his pockets, looking down at his shoes.

“I think if I hug you, I’ll start crying.”

“And you can’t look like a sissy in front of the other boys.” You attempted to tease. “No, I get it.”

He still latched his arms around you anyway, and you held him to you like the universe was trying to rip him away. It was unspoken when you would ever see each other again, but it was also unspoken that you would see each other again period.

You were the first to pull away, and you forced a smile. “No tears.”

Angus nodded. “No tears.”

An idea came to mind, and you walked over to the car, opening the passenger door and unzipping the top pocket of your backpack. Searching, you finally pulled out A Little Prince and a pen.

“No,” he shook his head. “I gave it to you-.”

You opened the book to the first page. “I have decided as of this morning that I’m going to be a writer; and when I’m famous, you’ll have my signature before I was, so that if you ever need money, you have something.”

After signing the inside of the book, you handed it back to him. You hadn’t expected him to genuinely smile the whole time, yet there you were. He took it from you. “I’d never sell it, you know.”

“Yeah right.” You pulled him into a kiss. You made sure to not have it last too long, or you don’t think you would’ve stopped. You said when you pulled away. “I’ll write to you first, and I’ll try and call if I can.”

He nodded. “Send me pictures.”

“You too.”

“I’m gonna be stuck here even after I graduate.” He snickered.

“I don’t care.” You shook your head. “I should’ve taken pictures during Christmas, but I didn’t. I don’t wanna forget anything while I’m gone.”

He nodded, the realization hitting him harder now. “Okay.”

You turned when your father came out of the faculty house, carrying nothing. Angus gave a sheepish smile.

“Is that still a no for lunch?”

Your father grinned. “Your logic is flawless, but I’m afraid we’ll have to decline.”

The three of you didn’t say a word, as if by saying nothing at all, you would never have to say goodbye. It was a silence you would have wanted to stay in forever even if it meant staying out in the bitter cold air.

“You keep your head up, alright?” Your father said. “You can do this.”

Angus nodded, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, I was gonna tell you the same thing.”

They shook hands despite how much you knew they wanted to hug. When all was said and done, Angus nodded towards you and abruptly started running back to the school.

“See ya!”

You should’ve yelled something back, but you couldn’t find the words. Yet, you smiled. It broke your heart to say goodbye, but it was filled at the same time as the memories of the winter break came back to you.

Taking your father’s hand, he rubbed his teared-up eyes with the other and you both walked to the car. It was all official; you were leaving the last place that held the remnants of your childhood behind.

You were leaving your mother and Curtis’ grave, you were leaving the summer and winter days with Elise, you were leaving the school you could have attended and thrived in if you were born a son, you were leaving a woman who had come to be your new mother…you were leaving Angus Tully.

And yet…you were also leaving behind Daniel and his new family. You were leaving behind the pain and sorrow you had carried within you ever since you were a child. It would still linger, and it had always been known to you that you were still you no matter where you were; abroad or not. Hell, the only thing that mattered was if you cried in a more beautiful part of the world or not.

So, perhaps it was all welcomed.

“What city do you want to graduate in?”

You chuckled at your father’s question. “That’s not until May.”

“No harm at all in deciding now.”

Humming, it didn’t take long for your answer. “Athens. Mom always wanted to go there.”

“So, Athens it shall be. Could you hand me the rucksack at your feet?”

You did so without question. Your father soon stopped before the main road, and unzipped one of the pockets. He reached in and took out the fanciest bottle of brandy you had ever seen.

“Holy shit!” You laughed. “Is that-?”

“-Dr. Woodrup’s? Yes.” He unscrewed it, taking a sip, then rolling down his window and spitting it out.

You giggled as he handed it to you, and you set it back in the bag. He turned left, starting the five-hour journey to Syracuse.

“How does Copenhagen sound for our first destination?” He asked.

Smiling at him first, you looked back to the road. “Copenhagen sounds great.”

[cuteandhughesy]

3. “we really shouldn’t” “so?” with anthony stolarz

he def seems like the type of guy who’d be ur brothers teammate and you’d sleep with him behind ur brothers back 😶

prompt no.3: “we really shouldn’t.” “so?”

your brother mitch has always been protective. you’re his younger sister, two years younger than him, and have always been super kind and naive. from a young age, he saw the way people took advantage of you and felt that it was his responsibility to keep you safe.

when you got a bit older and started dating, mitch’s protectiveness got worse. no boy was good enough, even when they were. mitch would drive boys away with menacing looks and what he called ‘stern talkings’ which are also known as threats.

eventually when you convinced your brother to chill the fuck out a little bit and let you work things out on your own, he surprisingly agreed.

under one circumstance.

you can’t date his friends, and you certainly can’t date his teammates. ever.

and you could live with that. most of mitch’s friends where your friends, and you didn’t see them that way. and when mitch started getting more serious about hockey, he barley went out or had his teammates come over, so you never even met them. steph would ask all the time if you wanted to come to games, but you weren’t really interested.

“maybe you’ll find a guy,” she used to tease, winking at you discreetly in the dim light of the living room.

you always responded the same way, “im not into hockey players.”

when mitch made it to the nhl, you started going to games more often. you got to drink beers that mitch was paying for, and chat with steph about school and boys without the prying ears of your brother and your family.

as the years passed, mitch never strayed from his dating rule or protectiveness over you.

you never planned on rebuking mitch’s dating rule until anthony stolarz waltzed into toronto with a summer tan and a perfect smile. he’s older than you, mature but doesn’t take himself too seriously. anthony introduced himself to you with a playful and intriguing gleam, and it instantly has you feeling things.

and your sister-in-law knows it too, because anytime mitch brings up anthony or the net minder is in the same room as you, she’s wiggling her brows at you and grinning. you hate her.

and it’s fine, you think. it’s just a stupid crush on a new, older man. you’ll get over it. it’s not reciprocated.

expect it’s totally reciprocated, and after too many glasses of wine and a private bathroom at some bar after a win, you and anthony begin hook up. and it doesn’t just end there. you have sex often, and kiss and go on dates even more frequently.

you find yourself in a secret relationship, and at the same time, betraying your older brother. slowly it becomes harder to keep a secret, and the people in your life start noticing.

it starts with steph who just knows you too well. she straight up just asks you, and you blurt it out like you physically can’t hold it in any longer. steph smirked and said, ‘I fucking knew it.’

next came auston matthews, one of mitch’s closest friends and teammates, walks in on your and anthony making out like teenagers in a guest bathroom. to be fair, you didn’t look the door. and it was also auston’s house. you rushed out after the goal scorer, lips glistening and eyes frantic, begging him not to say anything.

auston just laughed and said, ‘don’t worry kid, your secret is safe with me.’

your parents knew, and your closest friends knew (mostly leaf wags who you sworn to secrecy). it started to feel more real, and you certainly got more comfortable.

so yeah you may of had four too many beers at the game. and yeah, when you see your boyfriend walking out of the leafs dressing room, looking divine after a win, you just want to normal and go up to your boyfriend.

it wasn’t uncommon for you to wait in the tunnels with steph for mitch after games, especially when you’ve all driven to the rink together. anthony would always smile at you, a little too sexy for trying to be discrete, but you never pushed those boundaries. not when mitch could walk out.

but once again, you’re well passed tipsy and you just want to live up on your man like all the other wags get to. before you can think about it, you’re walking up to anthony, heels clicking on the floor as you make your way through the crowd.

anthony’s talking to morgan, completely unaware of the way your striding towards him until you’re right in front of him. you wrap your hand around his bicep, blinking up at him with a glossed over expression.

“hi,” you beam, glossy lips tempting.

anthony swallows, eyes squinting in amusement. he shoots a glance at morgan, who is just stifling laughter like he knows—god damn it tessa. “hi,” he parrots.

“missed you,” you whine, pushing up onto the toe of your heeled boots and pucker your lips, “can I have a kiss?”

anthony laughs, rubbing the back of his neck and subtly scanning the room—checking if anyone was watching. morgan has slipped away now, and there’s only a few lingering people left in the tunnel. he sees steph, eyeing you both sneakily. which means mitch is still here.

“we really shouldn’t.” he mumbles. despite his words, anthony lets his hand wrap around your waist, keeping you against his chest to steady your drink sway. he licks along his bottom lip, “your brother could catch us.”

“so?” you huff, pushing even further up his body. “just a quick kiss.” you say. you’re too happy on wine and in love to think about your brothers stupid rule right now. you couldn’t care less about anything besides your gigantic boyfriend—who is grinning down at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

and you are. more than the nhl. more than the stanley cup. more than breathing.

quickly, anthony leans down, free hand enclosing on the side of your face as he tilts your head up, connecting your lips together.

the kiss doesn’t last nearly as long as you need it to, and you whine when anthony pulls off of you. you’re not caught, thankfully, and that only makes you want to kiss him over and over again.

“i’ll see you later, kay?” anthony whispers softly, talking his hand off your hips.

you nod, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and dropping back down to your heels. “love you.”

“love you too.”

—

(unedited)

[forestdeath1]

Well i wanted to make a post, but then I saw this addition, so here we go. Not to argue!

I can see Sirius as a sub, but with James, and the one I can’t see as submissive is actually James. I mean I kinda get your points and I thought the same, but when I put them in context, I was like “oh wow, ok guys…”. That was unexpected haha

Even though I’m always like “being a dom/sub doesn’t correlate with your character” (tho it kinda does, just not in the “if someone is dominant and assertive irl, they must be a dom in bed” way), I was still drawn to that idea of Sirius being a dom BECAUSE I see him as way more independent and therefore, more dominant in relationships than any of them. Even though we all know real cases of people being more on the dom side irl (ew that sounds weird haha) but loving to be dominated in bed, I was still like “NOOOO WAY! Sirius is a dom. And a top”. But then I changed my mind when I put the characters in context.

My main points are:

1)I’m not going to extrapolate this onto a 24/7 d/s dynamic. I just can’t see that working for any of them. If someone wants to do that with them, I’m not judging at all!!!!! You do you. But I just don’t see Sirius wanting a lifestyle dynamic in any form, so I can’t see Sirius either being on a leash or putting one on someone outside of a short scene

2) I genuinely don’t think they’d be that bdsm-ish in general. Tbh I see all of them as more on the vanilla side than on the power exchange side. (I kinda have my own perspective on “vanilla”, def not in an offensive way, to me everything without power exchange leans towards “vanilla”).

3) And that’s where everything else comes from:

Sirius is super independent, almost to an extreme, and kinda assertive — but not exactly dominant in the sense of taking control in people’s lives — he actually deeply respects others freedom of choice and autonomy. BUT at the same that’s exactly what makes him come across as dominant. Yet deep down, as Ive always said, he has this insecurity, this feeling of not being enough, of not being worthy of love. He doesn’t really care what people think about him, but when he loves someone, he (esp in tough moments) always feels like he’s not enough and needs to be useful to be loved.

I think it’s easier for him to be a dom and a top with people he doesn’t have strong feelings for. At the very least, he knows a lot of people expect a good dom and a good top (tbh I don’t think he’d be all that kinky on his own). He understands what people want and he can be a good dom.

And I can totally see him in that service “top” position with Bella. I see Bella as a dom with strong submissive kinks (dominant “bottom” and dom masochist) but she can’t and doesn’t want to give up control.

At the same time, I just can’t see him as a sub with just anyone. He simply can’t let himself go. He barely trusts anyone completely. Truly giving up control for people like him isnt just about kink — it’s also about having that immense trust in their dom and the deepest respect for them.

But James? Completely different story. James feels a little rigid in how he sees things. And even though I think he’d be more easygoing and even a little “submissive” in a relationship (he wouldn’t mind, even enjoy it), I can absolutely see him taking control in bed. Maybe not right away, but that’s his thing and he’s good at it. He enjoys it , especially seeing someone he deeply respects, someone who doesn’t submit to anyone, actually submit to him. And Sirius? Maybe he’d get off on discovering that feeling of submission with James

So yeah, I don’t see this as some core part of Sirius or something he always knew about himself. More like something that could develop over time or something the right dom could bring out in him

Once again — I’m not here to judge anyone’s headcanons, and I see the reasoning behind the “100% dom/100% sub” Sirius takes, I’m just sharing my perspective on him. More vanilla in general, a top and dom with everyone, a service top w Bella and a bottom sub w James

sorry but i don't see sirius as being submissive in bed. we will have to politely agree to disagree. he's not the obedient dog. do not put a collar on that dog. bc even if he were being submissive ~sexily~ (which i doubt he would), his partner would be like, 'ok if i'm the dom here, why does it still feel like he's telling me exactly what to do?'

[foreverisntenough]

‘Aperture’

Summary: A professional footballer with a playboy reputation finds his world reframed when he meets a talented photographer who captures the light and depth he’s never seen in himself. As their friendship develops, he finds himself illuminated by her presence—a stark contrast to the shallow spotlight he’s used to, but her guarded heart keeps her from fully trusting his intentions. Their friendship develops, like film in a darkroom, shifting into something far more intimate. But when their connection begins to blur the lines between friendship and something more, he realizes she’s the light he’s been chasing without knowing it and fights to prove he’s ready for something real. Yet, their love hangs in the balance—will the film of their story overexpose and fade, or will it develop into something vivid and timeless. Sometimes, love is about adjusting the focus, letting in the right light, and trusting the process.

Chapter Index:

Fashion Index: For all Y/N's looks! No more bad links!

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!]

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Chapter 3- 'See You' | 'Aperture'

word count - 11.6k

‘I don’t want to play with you’ was what you had said to Trent outside in the corridor which was a lie to begin with but in the dark bathroom your body was already begging for his, desperate for any game he wanted. It was hot. Thick, unbearable heat as his grip tightened, pulling you into him. You let out a soft, helpless whimper as his fingers skimmed down, over your ass, to the backs of your thighs. Then—lifted. He lifted you effortlessly, turning, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct, his body pressing flush against yours as he placed you onto the cool marble counter beneath you, the contrast of heat and chill making you shiver. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as felt the hard planes of him between your thighs. Trent stared at you, through you, his pupils blown, deep, rich, desperate, his lips slightly parted, breaths heavy. His fingers dug into your hips, his self-control slipping, shattering by the second. 

“No?” he taunted your blatant lie outside this room that felt like it was about to combust. His voice was drenched in something wicked. He was questioning your verbal rejection, his voice teasing because your body spoke a different language. But his hands—his hands gripped you like he needed you to breathe. “If you want me to stop…” He exhaled sharply, his control was slipping, his forehead nearly pressing to yours. “We don’t have to. You can take your hands off me. If you don’t want this.” He said it laced with genuine care but also in equal measure, it was taunting because you both knew you didn’t, you did want this. You watched as your hands slid down his chest, confirming you wanted them there, feeling the solid warmth beneath his black tee, feeling the heat, the tension rippling beneath the fabric, the way his muscles tensed under your touch. Then you flashed your gaze up to his and shook your head telling him you didn’t want him to stop as one of your hands found the cool metal of his chain, a finger hooking beneath it, while the other slipped to the nape of his neck, your nails raking over the fade of his hair. Trent inhaled sharply, his restraint unraveling thread by thread. His eyes squeezed shut for a brief second before snapping open again, burning with something lethal. “Tell me then,” he murmured, rough and breathless. “I need you to tell me you do.” Your lips parted.

“I do.” A breathless whisper tumbling out before you could stop it, greedy, pulling him closer to you with a tug on his chain. That was it. Trent had his verbal confirmation, consent, you were game to play with him, the very thing you had tried to convince both himself and you, you didn’t And the second the words left your lips, his smirk deepened, pure, male satisfaction flashing in his dark eyes. His hands—big, strong, burning through your skin—slid up your thighs, kneading the soft flesh with slow, deliberate pressure. The contrast of his rough fingertips against your sensitized skin made your head swim, heat pooling low in your belly.

“Yeah? Do I make you wet, baby?” The whisper was low, rasping, thick with something sinful, something that sent a full-body shiver racing through you. Then, his mouth—hot and teasing—brushed against the crook of your neck, his breath fanning over your pulse. Your head lolled to the side, giving him more, unable to stop yourself. The first press of his lips to your skin was like a live wire igniting every nerve in your body. Your stomach flipped, your chest rose with a sharp inhale, and even though you fought to keep yourself composed, your body betrayed you. You arched—just slightly—but he noticed. His hands moved higher, his thumbs dragging the fabric of your dress up, exposing more of your thighs, the smooth heat of his palms pushing against bare skin. One hand slipped higher, gripping the soft crease where your thigh met your hip, his thumb pressing, teasing, lingering dangerously close to where you ached for him most. Your breath hitched, the room impossibly silent save for the steady, muted thrum of bass vibrating through the walls. But inside this space—inside this moment—there was only him. The way his fingers teased, the way his mouth hovered near your neck, the way he was everywhere and nowhere all at once, keeping you in a torturous limbo. He leaned back just enough to look at you again, his lips curled in that smug, knowing smirk, his eyes dark with lust and amusement. “You gonna prove me wrong or something?” His voice was like silk, low and edged with mischief. Your mouth parted—intending to say something, anything—but nothing came. Because you couldn’t. You had never been this turned on in your entire life. He had stolen the air from your lungs, the words from your mind, leaving only the sharp, undeniable pull of him. Trent’s smirk deepened, understanding exactly what your silence meant. He leaned in to the other side of you, his lips ghosting over your ear, his breath hot and taunting. “Tell me your tight pussy isn’t dripping for me.” The words were a sinful whisper, a dark, husky promise, and the second his thumb dipped into the waistband of your lace panties, your entire body clenched. Still, no words. Just a shaky, shallow breath. Trent let out a quiet chuckle—not at you, but at himself, at his words, at the unbearable tension thrumming between you, at how much he wanted this. Needed it. Needed you. “C’mon, baby.” His voice softened, laced with patience, teasing but never pushing too far. “Just let this happen if you want me… I know I turn you on.” His thumb dragged the tiniest circle over the lace covering your core, and your thighs instinctively squeezed together, trapping his hand there, keeping him close.Your pulse pounded in your ears, your resolve unraveling strand by strand. You swallowed thickly.

“I never said you didn’t.” Your voice was weak, breathy, but there was a flicker of defiance there—a last stand. Trent’s brows lifted at your response, intrigued, amused. But more than that—thrilled. Because you were biting back now, challenging him in your own way. And he fucking loved it. You reached for him again, hands sliding up the firm planes of his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tee, tugging. He let you, let you have control for a fleeting second before he moved—stepping fully between your thighs again, locking you in place.

“I get it,” he murmured, voice molten, rough with desire. “You don’t have to say anything.” His smirk was slow, devastating. “Your body speaks for you.” Then his other hand slid up your side, dragging over your ribs, his touch featherlight but scorching, until he reached the curve of your boob. His fingers cupped you through your dress, thumb flicking over your nipple, teasing the sensitive bud through the fabric. A breathy whimper tumbled from your lips before you could stop it. Trent inhaled sharply, his pupils dilating at the sound, his control slipping just a little more. He loved it. He lived for it. But some part of him—some teasing, cocky part—was still playing the game. Because the second that bathroom door has closed, the second you let yourself want him, your walls crumbled. You weren’t resistant anymore. You weren’t immune to the effortless charm, the raw, unchecked attraction between you. He leaned in, his lips a whisper away from yours, close enough that you could feel his breath, taste the tequila lingering on his tongue. “Tell me you don’t want my hands on you.” His voice was a challenge, dark and honeyed, and it sent something desperate and needy crashing through you. Your resolve shattered.

“Please.” It was a whine, a quiet, desperate plea, your eyes wide and burning with need. And the second he saw it—that tiny flicker of surrender—his mouth twitched into a smirk, victorious. There it was. He had broken you down. He had won.

“Good girl,” he murmured. Then his lips crashed into yours. The kiss was all-consuming, a wildfire of hunger and desperation, lips parting, tongues brushing, hands grasping, pulling, taking. His fingers curled into your waist, dragging you against him, pressing you flush to every hard inch of his body. Your nails raked over his scalp, tugging at his hair, swallowing his sharp inhale. And yet, you never wanted it to stop. The air was thick with heat, the scent of liquor and faint perfume swirling in the dimly lit bathroom, the bass from the club pulsing through the walls like a heartbeat. Outside, Ibiza roared—laughter, music, chaos—but in here, it was just the two of you, a slow-burning inferno waiting to consume everything in its path.

And then, the roles reversed.

Trent had kissed a hundreds of lips, felt a hundred hands pulling him in, had women looking at him like they wanted to be devoured by him. But this—this was different. This was dangerous. Because for the first time, he felt like he was losing control. Kissing you felt like slipping into something intoxicating and unstoppable. Want. Need. A hunger that clawed at him from the inside out. Your moan vibrated against his lips as you reached for him, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt, yanking him closer like you could somehow fuse your bodies together. Your hands slipped under the fabric, finding his skin, hot and taut over hard muscle, your fingertips trailing over the ridges of his abs. His stomach flexed at your touch, a shudder rolling through him as if he could barely take it. His mouth broke away from yours, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your jaw, along the column of your throat. But it wasn’t just kisses. No, he was marking you, dragging his teeth over your pulse point, sucking just hard enough to make you gasp. A little pain, a little pleasure. A promise. He groaned against your skin. “Fuck, you’re so sexy, baby.” Your fingers tangled into his curls at the top of his, then your nails scraped back down his scalp as you arched into him, helpless against the way he had you unraveling. His kisses trailed lower, over your collarbone, down, down, as his hands roamed your body like he was memorizing it—soft caresses that felt electric, possessive, worshiping. His hard cock pressed against your core through his trousers, the friction making your breath stutter, a desperate little whimper slipping from your lips. He felt it—how much you wanted him—how your body responded to every brush of his fingers, every teasing stroke of his lips. “Let me have you,” he growled, his voice raw, thick with need. You whimpered as his hands slid lower, gripping your hips harshly, pulling you into him like he couldn’t get close enough. His gaze was molten, sweeping over you in admiration before his lips found yours again. The kiss was desperate, sloppy—tongues tangling, teeth clashing, like neither of you could get enough. His hands roamed your body like they had no patience left, and your own were just as eager, yanking him impossibly closer.

“You have me,” you whispered against his mouth, your hips tilting up into him in silent invitation. Trent exhaled sharply, his restraint disappearing. His fingers curled around your thighs, pulling one leg up around his waist, pressing you tighter against him. “Please… take me,” you breathed. His grin was slow, lazy, drunk off you.

“Let me.” His thumbs dug deeper into the flesh of your thighs before they trailed up, up—until they reached the lace of your panties. His fingers ghosted over the fabric, and then, just barely, he brushed over your sensitive clit. The lightest, cruelest touch. Your breath hitched, your body instinctively jerking forward, seeking more. Trent’s smirk deepened as he watched your reaction, as he felt how wet you were for him. “Look at you,” he murmured, dragging his fingers over the damp lace again, slow, deliberate. “So fucking wet for me.” You shuddered, your hand flying up to his neck, thumb brushing over his sharp jawline, forcing his gaze to meet yours. And then there in that look, there was a silent confessional made - want. But with it, there was hunger there—the pure, unfiltered lust—made your stomach tighten, your thighs clench. His fingers slipped past the waistband of your panties, gliding over your slick folds, teasing, exploring. A sharp gasp left your lips, your body jolting at the first slow, lazy circles over your clit. “There you go,” he praised, voice husky. “I knew you’d be a good girl for me.” His fingers pressed deeper, spreading your slickness before one slid inside, pushing in slow, teasing you open. You clenched around him, a broken moan escaping as your head fell back against the wall. His lips found your neck again, biting, sucking, as he fucked you with his finger, slow at first, then a little faster, until he felt you relax enough to take another. His knuckle pressed against your entrance with every thrust, adding a delicious friction that had your thighs trembling.

“Fuck,” you gasped, your hips rolling into his hand, desperate for more.“Oh my god, that feels so good. Right there.“ Trent’s smirk pressed against your skin as he curled his fingers inside you, hitting that spot that made your entire body jolt.

“Right there, huh?” he murmured, watching the way you came apart under his touch. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your body shuddering as the pressure built, climbing higher and higher. His pace never faltered, his fingers working you open, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “That’s it, hmm?” His voice was velvet, coaxing. “Cum for me, baby.” And then—you shattered. Your orgasm ripped through you, waves of white-hot pleasure crashing over you as you moaned his name, your body convulsing against his, your nails dragging over his skin. Trent groaned at the sight, his fingers slowing, milking every last tremor from your body. Your chest heaved as you slumped against the counter, your legs weak, your body spent but still burning for him.

Trent pulled his fingers from you, slick with your arousal. He watched the way they glistened in the dim light, a flicker of something almost possessive flashing in his eyes before he brought them to his lips. His tongue flicked out, licking them clean. 

“Fuck.” You swallowed hard, watching him, utterly wrecked. He chuckled, dark and knowing. But the look in his eyes told you—he wasn’t done with you yet. The air was thick with heat, perfumed with sweat, sex, and the lingering scent of expensive liquor. Outside, Nikki Beach pulsed—music thrumming like a heartbeat, neon lights flickering, the bass so deep it rattled through your bones. But in here, the world had shrunk to just the two of you. Trent’s breath was ragged, his lips still glistening from the taste of you as he dropped to his knees, dark eyes burning with a hunger that sent a fresh wave of arousal straight to your core. “Taste fucking unreal, baby.” His voice was husky, thick with desire, and the sight of him there—cocky, worshipful, desperate—had your thighs clenching on instinct. But he wouldn’t allow it. Large hands gripped your legs, thumbs pressing into your soft flesh as he spread you open, his gaze locked onto yours with unrelenting intensity. “Need more of you.” His voice was a rasp, his words a promise. “Gonna let me have more of you?”  He asked you as he leaned in slowly, deliberately, his hands sliding up your thighs, fingertips barely brushing your skin as he took his time savoring the moment. You nodded desperately. 

“T please.” The anticipation was unbearable. This was not how you thought this was going to go.  Your breath hitched as his lips ghosted over your inner thigh, and then—his tongue flicked out, tracing the lace of your panties. A jolt of pleasure shot through you, a sharp gasp slipping past your lips. Trent smirked, keeping his gaze chained to yours, and then—rip. The delicate fabric tore in his hands, leaving you bare beneath him. The audacity. The sheer, unhinged need in his eyes. It sent shivers rippling down your spine. “Fuck,” you breathed. He groaned, low and guttural, before his mouth descended, tongue dragging over your soaked folds in a deep, possessive kiss. 

He devoured you.

The first stroke of his tongue was slow, teasing, dragging through your slickness before he lapped at you, tasting, exploring, like he had all the time in the world. A slow hum of satisfaction rumbled from his chest, vibrating against your core. Your fingers found his curls, gripping, tugging, hips jerking toward him, but his hands tightened around your thighs, pinning you in place.

“So greedy,” he murmured against your wet core before sealing his lips around your clit and sucking. A strangled moan ripped from your throat. Your head hit back against the mirror, the cool glass a stark contrast to the fire licking through your veins. He worked you like he needed this, and he felt like he did. You were like a class A drug he was trying for the first time and he was addicted from the first hit. He was drawing pleasure from your pleasure, like nothing had ever tasted sweeter than you on his tongue. His fingers joined the torture, slicking through your folds before one pressed inside you, curling, coaxing. Then another.

“Oh my God. Oh my fucking—” His pace quickened, tongue flicking, fingers thrusting, the obscene, wet sounds of your arousal echoing through the bathroom, mixing with the muffled bass from the club outside. “Please.” Your voice was a whimper, breathless, wrecked. “Please, T. Oh my God, I’m gonna cum.” Trent didn’t let up. If anything, he worked you harder, holding you down as he feasted, his mouth relentless, tongue rubbing against your swollen clit in messy, eager circles. His lips were god like. Not only did they look good, they felt fucking good..  “I’m gonna—” Then you broke. Your body jerked, pleasure crashing over you in violent, shuddering waves. A cry tore from your lips, your thighs trembling against the broad expanse of his shoulders as he kept going, licking you through your orgasm, drinking you in like you were the only thing that had ever mattered. Your hands slipped from his curls, arms going limp as the last tremors of pleasure rippled through you. Your breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, your body boneless, trembling.

Slowly, Trent kissed his way back up, leaving a trail of wet, reverent kisses over your thighs, your stomach, his hands sliding up your dress, brushing over your tits. The fabric was thin, barely there, and his touch sent sparks racing beneath your skin. He finally reached your lips, hovering there, his breath mingling with yours, still tasting like you.

“So fucking good f’me,” he murmured. You grabbed his wrist and dragged his hand to your lips taking two of his fingers in between your lips. Tasting yourself as you swirled your tongue around them teasing Trent with the idea of you doing that to his cock until he pulled them out with a pop. He exhaled and leant forward, his forehead pressed against yours, his hands cradling your face as he looked at you—really looked at you. Like he couldn’t believe you were real. “Knew you’d sound so pretty when you cum.” Your heart clenched. Because it wasn’t just lust anymore. It was more. It was something deeper, something neither of you could name, something dangerous. And as his lips claimed yours in a searing, soul-stealing kiss, you knew—this wasn’t just a night you’d never forget. This was a man you couldn’t forget. Even when the music stopped. Even when the sun rose over the Ibizan shores.

And as you looked at him now, those deep brown eyes blown wide with desire, pupils eclipsing the warm dark hazel, you felt something shift. Something terrifying. Something that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with the way he was staring back at you—like he saw something in you worth worshiping. It was more than attraction. More than just a need to have you. There was softness in his gaze, genuine interest, maybe even something close to love. And that was the scariest thing of all. Your chest still heaved from your orgasm, legs trembling when you decided to slide off the counter, trying to regain some control. But the moment your feet touched the ground, you wobbled, Trent’s hands found your waist, steadying you instinctively, as if they belonged there. As if they’d never let go. You needed to step away. To put space between you before you lost yourself in him completely. But when you tried, he caught your wrist. Not rough. Not demanding. Just a silent plea. A tether, holding you there—not just in this bathroom, but in this moment. Your eyes flashed down in an effort to not be guilted, but instead you caught sight of something that you’d been thinking about for two days now. The hard line of his cock straining against his pants, proof of just how much he wanted you. A thrill ran through you at the thought that just touching you, tasting you, pulling you into this hidden world had wrecked him like this. But there was that guilt, too. Because he’d given you everything, and you had given him nothing in return. 

“I have to get back,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure why. You weren’t sure who you were trying to convince. Trent’s lips parted slightly, a soft exhale as your hand reached for him, drawn by some gravitational pull you couldn’t fight. Your palm cupped his cheek, thumb running across his full lower lip, swollen from his sins. His enviable lashes fluttered for a brief moment before his lips parted, tongue flicking against the pad of your thumb in a slow, torturous tease. He smirked then, the cocky bastard, because he knew. He knew you knew he was hard. But the way he looked at you now, the way he leaned into your touch—it wasn’t just about his arousal. It was about you. He was vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. All the filthy things he had just said, all the pleasure he had given you, now lingering in the air between you. Words he couldn’t take back. He was the one caught out this time. Not you.

“Just tell me something…” His voice was softer now, the bravado slipping, replaced with something real. “I make you feel good?” You swallowed, pulse stuttering.

“Yeah,” you murmured, barely audible. His gaze flickered over your face, searching, reading between the lines. He wasn’t just talking about the way he’d just torn you apart with his tongue. He meant being with him. Just being with him. And you meant it, too.

His fingers curled around your wrist, bringing it to his lips. He kissed the inside of it, right where your pulse fluttered wildly against his mouth. Your heart slammed against your ribs. Because Trent wasn’t just sexy. He wasn’t just the boy you’d met on holiday or the man who had your head spinning. He was soft. He didn’t push. Didn’t demand. Didn’t lock the door or strip you down. He didn’t chase you when you pulled away, didn’t beg. He just… waited.

“Remember that,” he said, his voice low, intimate. “Think of me making you cum. Just… don’t forget, yeah?” His words should have sounded crass. Should have been cocky. But they weren’t. Because he wasn’t just talking about this. He meant more than that. ‘Don’t forget him.’ You nodded, biting your lip as you slipped past him, and this time—he let you go. Was he disappointed and mildly shocked you wanted to leave, yes. He wasn’t nearly close to satisfaction, he was aching for release. He wanted more, he wanted all of you, and yet, a part of him felt lucky to have even gotten a taste. 

-

The hallway swallowed you both back up, reality crashing in as the music roared back to life, vibrating through the walls, chaotic and frenzied. And it was in that moment you realized that even as crazy and famous as he was, cheeky as he was, he somehow managed to be a moment of quiet. Of stillness. Of something unexpectedly safe in a world that was anything but. The quiet was behind you, only chaos up ahead.  You had almost made it back when you felt him again. His touch. Trent’s large hands found your waist, pulling you back against him one last time, not letting you go back just yet, his fingers splaying possessively across your hips.

“C’mere.” The warmth of him, the scent of his cologne, the pure electricity crackling between your bodies—it was too much. You turned in his arms, facing him. “I’m gonna…” His voice was barely above a whisper, a nod toward the VIP section where his brothers and friends still sat, oblivious to what had just happened. A pang of something dangerous hit your chest. You didn’t want to leave this moment. And you hated that you felt that way.

“Gonna fuck someone else now?” you cheekily asked, keeping your voice light, but the question wasn’t a joke. It was a fear. You liked him. Not just for the way he made you come undone but for the way he had looked at you afterward. For the way he saw you. And now, all you’d done is wound him up and were about to push him back into a beach club full of beautiful women. But that didn’t matter. Not to him. Trent let out a low, breathy chuckle, shaking his head. He couldn't believe how certain he was in the answer he was going to give you.

“Nah.” That sound—his laugh—it sent butterflies swarming in your stomach, bursting like fireworks against your ribs. “Nah,” he repeated, smirking. “Gonna go back to the villa and probably have to have a wank now.” The honesty. The humor. It was so him— his smile lazy and lethal all at once. You laughed, shaking your head as your fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt. His grip on you tightened, fingers pressing into the curve of your ass as he leaned in, close enough that his lips nearly brushed yours. “But if you wanna cum for me again tonight,” he murmured, voice dripping with sin. “If you want me…” His lips grazed your cheek, his breath hot against your skin. And the thing was, as Trent said those words, terrifyingly it occurred to him that he wanted you to want him. “You come get me. Yeah?” You swallowed, body betraying you with the way it leaned into him. Unbeknownst to Trent, and surprising to you all the same, the truth was—you did want him. You wanted to come for him again. You wanted him. But you didn’t say it.

“I’ll see you.” You whispered. And the way Trent looked at you then—like he wasn’t entirely sure where he was anymore, like you had just thrown his entire world off its axis—made your heart stutter. You were something he hadn’t expected. Something real. Your hands drifted up, fingernails scratching lightly against the nape of his neck. He closed his eyes for a second, breathing you in, and when they opened, there was something dangerous in them. You were so close. Close enough to taste him. Close enough that one wrong move and you’d be back against the wall, back in his arms, back in a moment that neither of you would be able to come back from. But you knew better than to kiss him. Because you were scared. Scared that if you did, you’d drag him right back down the hall and sink to your knees for him. Trent smirked, but it was softer this time. 

“You’ll see me.” He murmured. Then he turned his head, looking away—because he wanted to kiss you, too. He really really did and he knew if he did, it wouldn’t just be lust. It would be something far more dangerous. Something neither of you were ready for. 

-

The night was alive, breathing, pulsing—thick with heat and wild energy. The bass thrummed through the air, a heartbeat in its own right, rattling through crystal glasses and rippling across skin slick with sweat and spilled liquor. The scent of expensive perfume, spiced rum, and something darker—something untamed—coiled around you, wrapping the club in a haze of sin and seduction. Dim lights flickered like fireflies, dancing across the crowds, casting fleeting golden glows over Trent’s face—the unfairly pretty face that, just moments ago, had been buried between your thighs, worshiping you like a man starved.

“Where the fuck did you go, mate?” Kieran asked, furrowing his brow, confused by Trent’s absence. Trent barely looked at him, instead watching as you slipped back to your friends, looking every bit the picture of mischief and satisfaction. The curve of your lips, the flush in your cheeks—you were radiant. And he was helpless against it.

“Was hungry…” Trent shrugged, voice lazy, but his gaze was locked on you, unashamed. The innuendo went over everyone’s head but Trent’s hunger was fresh in his mind as he stared at you. Marcel turned to him, expectant, suspicious, and when his eyes followed Trent’s line of sight—when he caught the ghost of a smirk threatening to spill across his brother’s lips—he knew. And you—damn you—felt it, too. The tether between you, humming beneath the music, louder than the club, louder than the crowd.

Your head turned, seeking him, as if pulled by some invisible force. And when your eyes met, a current crackled through the space between you, something unspeakable, something dangerously sweet. Trent smirked—slow, knowing—and shot you a wink, and fuck, it hit you like a shot of tequila straight to the veins. Your stomach flipped, a giggle escaping before you could stop it, as you reached for your half-finished bottle of Don Julio. You tipped it back, the burn of the liquor a poor substitute for the fire still licking at your skin, the memory of his mouth still haunting your body. And right then, you wished Don Julio was him. Wished it was his pillowy lips cushioning yours, not the cold glass of the bottle.

-

The late-morning sun hung high over Ibiza, casting golden light over the terrace where you and your best friends lounged, the remnants of last night’s chaos still clinging to your skin like the salty summer air. The scent of fresh oranges and sizzling chorizo wafted from the kitchen, mixing with the crisp bite of mimosas and the familiar comfort of laughter. The four of you were draped lazily around a white linen-covered table, oversized sunglasses shielding tired eyes, but nothing could dull the electric energy bouncing between you as you finally, finally spilled your secret. 

“He what?!?!” Delaney, Foster, and Campbell’s collective scream tore through the quiet hum of the brunch crowd, drawing more than a few curious glances from nearby tables. Not that any of you cared. You shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you.

“He ate me out when I went to the loo last night. You heard what I said.” You took a sip of your drink, acting as if your world hadn’t just tilted on its axis as you looked at them through the blue tint of your Loewe sunnies [ref index]

“Oh my fucking god!” Foster practically shrieked, slamming her hand down on the table. The sheer volume of her excitement sent the group into another round of cackling, heads thrown back, laughter bubbling over like spilled champagne.

“So you did get fucked! Praise the lord!” Delaney grinned, raising her mimosa in a mock toast, her sunglasses sliding down her nose as she smirked at you.

“No! No…” you protested between giggles, shaking your head. “That’s not what I said! I said he ate me out.” You leaned forward, biting your lip, your smile turning impossibly cheekier. Campbell, ever the perceptive to you, eyed you suspiciously.

“So do you have plans? Are you gonna see him again?” She asked and your grin faltered for just a second. A small pause. A flicker of something deeper.

“I don’t have his number.” The admission sat between you like an unfinished sentence. You hadn’t thought about it in the heat of the moment—the tequila haze, the pulse of the music, the way he had made you feel. But now, in the clear light of day, it was glaringly obvious. You didn’t have his number. No plans. No promises. Just a memory. Campbell’s lips curled into a knowing smirk.

“Do you want it?” She meddled knowing it was right in her messages a few days ago. Your instinct was to brush it off, to say no, to play it cool. But your friends knew you too well. Campbell, especially, saw through you like glass. You hesitated, twirling the stem of your glass between your fingers.

“No, he didn’t give it to me.” The way you phrased it sounded… bad. Like you’d been left behind, forgotten. And you hated that. You didn’t want to care. You wanted to be unbothered, unattached. But when Foster leaned forward with a teasing grin, you knew she sensed the shift in you.

“No, he just gave that pussy some yum,” she quipped, waggling her brows. You groaned, throwing a napkin at her, but it did little to distract from the truth pressing at your ribs.

“Stop! I don’t know…” You sighed, running a hand through your hair, the memory of Trent’s touch still ghosting over your skin. “There’s… something there. It’s weird…” The words hung in the air, light but laced with an undeniable weight. “I don’t know what it is,” you admitted softly. And for the first time since last night, the thrill of it all settled into something else. Something scarier. You couldn’t describe it to them but in your mind you knew what it was. It was chemistry The Ibiza heat pressed down on you, thick and heavy, but it wasn’t nearly as suffocating as the realization creeping in. You wanted more. And that? That was dangerous.

-

The sun blazed high above, glinting off the rim of your glass as you took another sip of your mimosa, the cool bubbles popping against your lips. The terrace buzzed with the lazy energy of a late-morning brunch crowd—groups of tanned holiday-goers nursing hangovers, the clinking of silverware against plates, the distant bass of a beach club setting the rhythm for another sun-soaked day. Your friends were still reeling, their laughter slicing through the air like a blade, sharp and amused.

“I’m sure his thirsty ass fucked someone else that night after we left anyways.” You smiled at them, shrugging as if the thought didn’t sting. The rim of your glass met your lips again, but before you could take another sip, Campbell reached out and pulled it away with a pointed look.

“You don’t mean that.” You tilted your head at her, silently pleading with her not to do this—to not look at you like she could see through the paper-thin defense you were trying to hold up.

“No, but for me, best to think it.” You flashed her a smile, one that was meant to end the conversation, but she wasn’t convinced.

“Fair,” Delaney chimed in, adjusting her bikini strap under her sheer cover-up. “But you should follow him on Instagram or something.” She knew you, understood your hesitations, but also didn’t want you to let the moment slip through your fingers. Before you could even react, Campbell and Foster cut in with a unified shriek.

“Fuck no!” The whole table burst into giggles, the tension dissolving into the warm air, but then—

“Ladies, sent for you.” A waiter appeared at the table, a pristine bottle of champagne cradled in his hands like something sacred. It wasn’t just any bottle—it was expensive, way too nice for a casual brunch. The four of you exchanged glances before Foster furrowed her brow, scanning the room with a smirk.

“From who?” she asked, already playing detective. Your curiosity got the best of you, and you turned slightly in your chair, following her gaze, eyes sweeping over the crowd—until they landed on him. Trent.

As if the universe had cast a spotlight just for him, he lounged effortlessly in the distance with his friends, the golden glow of the morning catching the sharp angles of his jaw, the slight curl of his lips, the quiet confidence in the way he sat back in his seat. His eyes found yours easily, as if he had been waiting. You sighed, shaking your head with a soft smile, mouthing a small, ‘No,’ though there was nothing in your expression that said you didn’t appreciate the gesture. Your glossed lips unable to stop from curving. His lips twitched, his dimple peeking through before he tilted his own glass toward you in a subtle toast. You turned back around and Trent silently groaned in his head seeing your exposed back again. He wanted to rip that dress you had on off, and the bikini underneath it. Back at your table, the waiter set down your freshly poured glass, but before he stepped away, he placed a folded napkin down next to you. Your brows furrowed as you reached for it, and the moment your eyes skimmed over the inked words, your breath hitched.

'If I never get to feel your lips again, it was an absolute pleasure, baby.'

You shook your head, but you were smiling, your fingers tightening around the napkin like it was something delicate, something worth keeping. Foster gawked at the message, jaw slack in astonishment. 

“Guess it was yummy, baby.” Campbell hummed into her glass, unsurprised but endlessly amused, while Delaney let out a giggle, sliding the napkin closer to examine it like it held the secrets of the universe. You should have rolled your eyes, should have dismissed it as nothing more than a cheeky playboy move, but you couldn’t. Because as much as you tried to fight it, there was no denying the truth—he didn’t feel like just some momentary thrill and you hoped this wasn't a goodbye as much as it was a see you soon.

–

Trent was cooked. Not by the Ibizan sun—though, yeah, that too. His tan was coming in nicely. But no, the real problem? You. You’d walked out of that brunch picking up your bill, your bag and your friends, and he prayed the napkin, without so much as a goodbye, just a soft, knowing smile that had done irreparable damage to his sanity. You could’ve said something cocky, thrown him a teasing remark, but no—you’d just looked at him like that, mouthed a simple ‘See you’ before leaving him there, heart pounding like some lovesick idiot. But that 'see you' meant confirmation for you. You didn't want never again you wanted a million times over.

Now, hours later, his friends were sprawled across the loungers by the pool, soaking up the afternoon heat, but not Trent. No, Trent was a man on a mission. Under the shade of an umbrella, a towel draped dramatically over his head to block the glare, he squinted at his phone screen. He should’ve been swimming, drinking, doing literally anything else, but instead, he was being a detective. Because Trent Alexander-Arnold did not just let a girl like you walk out of his life without a trace. Except, well—he kind of had. He didn’t have your number. Didn’t even know if he had your last name. Rookie mistake, mate.

But then—divine intervention. Or, well, Campbell’s Instagram story. He clicked on it absentmindedly, expecting to see the usual boozy brunch chaos, but then, in small white font, there it was. Your username. Finally. Thank you, Campbell. He should’ve sent the bottle to her just for her help alone fueling this delusional crush.  Trent hummed, narrowing his eyes as he clicked on your profile, resisting the urge to zoom in on your photos like a creep. God, you were fit. But something in your bio distracted him. A second Instagram handle. A name he recognized. Curious, he clicked. And just like that, the rabbit hole deepened.

Your work page was filled with sleek, polished images—portraits, editorials, behind-the-scenes glimpses of high-profile shoots. But most interestingly…Footballers.

Trent sat up a little straighter, scrolling with a sudden intensity. Did you work for a photographer? Was this someone else’s account? But then he checked the list of people it followed—only about twenty odd names, most of them industry professionals, and there you were again. Your personal account. Oh. Ohhh. He scrolled faster now, realization hitting him like a truck. You weren’t just working for a photographer. You were the photographer.

“Oh…” He said it out loud, eyes fixed on his screen, heart thudding for an entirely new reason now. There it was—your name credited under shots from a Louis Vuitton campaign. A behind-the-scenes snap of you on set. Another post, a carousel of work that included—Marcus Rashford? Trent frowned, his scrolling slowing just a little. How professional were these shoots, exactly? He didn’t really pin you like that and that made the thought of the question all the more embarrassing to him. He clicked on another Instagram dump of yours, searching for clues, for something—anything—to confirm that he wasn’t just another name in your mental archives. But the answer was clear.

Incredibly professional.

Painfully so, in your opinion. You weren’t just some girl who took photos—you were the real deal. You worked with some of the biggest names in the game, and yet… you barely let them get your surname. You were a shadow behind the lens, a quiet force in the industry. A name typed in an email from your agency, a friendly face on set but never more than that. And Trent? Well, he had been more than that. Right?

Trent was in trouble. Deep, deep trouble. He’d started this whole thing with the upper hand—cocky, self-assured, confident. A cheeky line at a club, a wager sealed with a kiss, his name scrawled on a napkin like he was so sure you’d come looking for him. But now? Now, he was sitting under a goddamn poolside umbrella, towel over his head like some desperate gremlin, while you single-handedly ruined his entire summer holiday. He was jealous. Fucking jealous.

Of Rashford. Of the other footballers you’d shot. Of the fact that they’d had your full attention, maybe for hours, maybe days. That they’d been the focus of your lens, your voice giving quiet direction, your hands adjusting lighting, your eyes scanning them like they were the most interesting thing in the room. Meanwhile, he had barely lasted a night in your orbit. Still frowning, Trent kept scrolling, pulling your page down refreshing hoping for a sign of life and then—like the devil had it out for him—you posted.

A new grid post. He swallowed hard, thumb freezing as he took it in. A curated, sun-drenched montage of your trip, effortlessly cool and so you—a pitcher of sangria sweating on the table, Campbell mid-laugh, a perfect row of striped beach umbrellas, delicate gold jewelry scattered on a marble sink. It was the kind of post that made someone wish they were there, wish they’d been part of the moments. And Trent? He didn’t just wish. He ached.

But then—the last slide. He almost didn’t catch it at first, his mind still dazed from the photo of you stretched out on a lounger, back arched, sun dripping over you in a way that should be illegal in only a tiny tiny string bikini. His entire body reacted instantly—groaning, he tipped his head back against the chair, squeezing his eyes shut, forcing himself to breathe through the sudden rush of heat flooding straight to his length. Jesus. You were impossible. You were sexy, effortless, carefree—no calculated poses, no thirst traps, just you. Untouchable. And then, just when he thought he couldn’t take anymore, there it was—the last slide.

A snapshot of the napkin he’d sent to your table. The one with his note, his number, flipped over, the embossed restaurant name a confirmation, the faint tint of his ink leaking through the otherside. Except now, you’d written on it too.

‘They can be yours… again. xx’

Red ink. Perfectly placed. A direct hit to his ego, his gut, his—fuck. Trent stared, his entire world tilting. The words were a play on his first line to you, stolen and thrown right back at him. He’d started this, thinking he had the control. A shot in the dark, a gamble at a club. But now? Now, he was crumbling. Because he’d once offered you his lips for the night. And now? All he could think about was yours.

-

Autumn arrived like a quiet sigh. September rolled in with its crisp air, golden evenings, and a silence that stretched between you and Trent like an unspoken truce. Neither of you reached out. Too proud. Too stubborn to be the first one to bend. Campbell had tried, of course. Tried to nudge, hint, flat-out push you into making a move. But you refused, pretending it was nothing, just a passing holiday fling. Trent? Barely remembered your name. That was the official line you both fed your friends. But it was a lie. Because Trent did remember your name. He remembered the way it felt rolling off his tongue, the way it sounded when you laughed. And he missed it.

He found himself lurking in corners of the internet he knew you might exist in—scrolling through comments on a footballer’s post you recently worked with just to see if you'd left one. Clicking through women’s fashion editorials, hoping for a behind-the-scenes glimpse of you at work. Embarrassing. He’d clear his search history before his mates came over, because God forbid they saw “Trent Alexander-Arnold + photographer + Ibiza” “London + photographer + Y/N + boyfriend” in the search bar.

And you? You were just as bad.

You, who claimed not to care, were now watching random Premier League YouTube videos about players’ favorite foods—just for a two-second clip of Trent laughing. You streamed his matches from your phone, curled up in bed on cold Tuesday nights, letting the sound of  Champions League commentators saying his name lull you to sleep like a damn bedtime story. But like anything worth waiting for, timing mattered.

And as fate—or fashion—would have it, September meant Fashion Week.

Trent was in Paris. Tired. Sore from the weekend’s match, legs still heavy from a knock he’d picked up. He was sprawled across the sofa in his hotel room, waiting for room service, mindlessly scrolling through TikTok. His algorithm had changed—his usual feed of football highlights and music clips replaced with… well, you. Not directly. Not at first. But it had started slow. A fashion week recap here, a vogue clip there, the kinds he usually ignored. But not now. The more he lingered, the more the app fed him exactly what he wanted before he even admitted to himself that he wanted it. And then—there you were. A street-style video. Travis Scott’s voice thumping over muffled reverbed bass. You, yesterday, walking down Rue Jean Goujon.

Golden hour draped over you like a personal spotlight, turning your skin radiant, turning you into something straight out of a daydream. You were wrapped in more layers than he preferred—tragic, really—but even under the high fashion, he saw you. Saw the sharpness of your cheekbones, the slight pout of your lips, the effortless way you moved. Trent let out a slow breath, thumb frozen on the screen. He envied the sun outside his window. Because it got to touch you, while he was stuck inside, watching from a screen.

Trent swallowed hard watching you walk down the Parisian street with all the ease of someone who belonged there. Your tiny exposed waist still visible as the wind blew open your coat [ref index], your heels impractically high, opened toed and potentially making your feet cold. Oh my days was he really worried if you were cold, he shook his head but continued watching the video again and again to see you carry yourself as if the world were tilting to accommodate you.

-

Trent had never been the type to dwell. He prided himself on his ability to let things roll off his back, to keep moving forward without getting caught up in what-ifs or maybes. But this—you—had settled into his mind like an imprint he couldn’t shake. It had been weeks since Ibiza, since that night at the club, since brunch, since you’d walked away without so much as a lingering glance. And yet, here he was, lying on the couch in his Paris hotel room, his mouth going dry trying to remember the taste of you. He shut his eyes for a moment, willing it back but it had been too long. 

He hadn’t seen you in motion since Ibiza, hadn’t been forced to reckon with the way you moved, how you existed so unbothered, so self-assured. His memory had failed him—because this, this was worse. You were stunning in a way that made his body tense. His thumb hovered over the screen. And then— without thinking, without hesitating, without stopping himself—he hit ‘save video.’ The realization struck him a second too late. His stomach dropped.

"What the fuck am I doing…" Trent groaned, immediately opening his camera roll to delete it. His fingers hesitated over the screen before he dropped the phone into his lap, dragging a hand over his face. He needed to get himself together. This was ridiculous. And then—laughter. A quiet, amused sound from across the room.

“I think she’s too bad for you, bro.” Trent’s head snapped up. Marcel was lounging in the chair near the window, watching him with open amusement, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. Trent exhaled sharply. 

“Who are you even on about?” He kept his voice level, uninterested. A lost cause. Marcel merely shook his head. 

“You can pretend all you want, but it’s not like you don’t have a way of seeing her.” He stretched out lazily, as if he had all the time in the world to pick Trent apart. “You stare at her Instagram every week. Just follow it.” He shrugged. “You’ve got mutual friends. It’s not creepy, mate. You’re gonna run into her at some point.”  Marcel explained earnestly to his older brother too wise for Trent to stomach. Trent clenched his jaw.

“Fuck off, bro” Trent curtly replied shifting in his place. 

“She here?” Marcel tilted his head, sharp as ever. “Is that why you’re spinning out?” He asked. He hadn’t seen the video Trent was just watching, he’d seen enough. He knew what was on the screen or who rather.

“I’m not spinning out. Maybe she’s here, maybe she isn’t but it doesn’t matter.” Trent’s voice was firm, a clear dismissal. “Marce, we didn’t hook up. I don’t know the girl.” Trent explained frustration creeping in as he sat up straight. 

“Yeah but you told me you did.” Marcel raised a brow. Trent’s jaw tightened. Mistake. “You did get to know her…” Marcel really wasn’t pestering. Trent knew that but it was easier to pretend he was. He had confided in Marcel once, admitted that breakfast in Ibiza with you was different, that it had turned into something unexpected, something that had stuck with him far longer than it should have. That he made you cum in the toilets of Nikki Beach. But that had been a moment of weakness, a lapse in judgment. He should have known his brother wouldn’t forget.

“I said I did,” Trent muttered, rubbing a hand over his face, “but I didn’t mean it. Just wanted you off my back.” His voice was edged with frustration because that wasn’t what had happened at all and they both knew it. “Drop it, mate.”  Marcel didn’t argue. He just sat there, watching him with that same infuriating expression, the one that said he saw right through him.

“Trentski—” Marcel tried to say more. A knock at the door. Room service. Trent didn’t think he had ever been more grateful for food in his life. He exhaled through his nose, standing up, ready for the distraction, for anything that would pull him out of this spiral. He wasn’t sure what had happened to him, how a brief encounter had turned into something that clung to the edges of his mind like an echo. It made him sick to think that maybe, just maybe, you hadn’t given him a second thought.

“It’s cool, bro,” Trent said, reaching for the door handle, forcing nonchalance he didn’t feel. “I’m cool.” It was a blatant lie but they both just accepted it for now.

-

The Louis Vuitton show was tonight, and Trent sat in his hotel room, high above the hum of Parisian streets, hands resting on his thighs as a stylist crouched to lace up his sneakers. He should have been thinking about the event, about the cameras and the seats filled with people who mattered. But instead, his mind was somewhere else. On you. A stupid smile tugged at his lips before he even realized it. He caught his reflection in the mirror, the gleam in his own eyes betraying him. What the fuck am I doing? This was getting ridiculous. He was acting like some lovesick teenager over a girl he’d barely spent time with. A girl he’d met in a club. A girl who, by all accounts, had walked away from him first. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. Enough. This had to stop.

If—if—he saw you tonight, it wouldn’t be fate. It wouldn’t be some cosmic sign that you were meant to be in his life. It would be a game. And games had to be played in order to be won. If he saw you, he’d make his move.  The game was only on merely so it could end. He wanted to fuck you into the mattress and never see you again because he never wanted to save another Tik Tok, and he definitely never wanted to get butterflies in his stomach or see that stupid smile  on his face again.

He’d get you beneath him, he’d fuck you into the mattress and never see you again. Make sure that you’d never forget the name Trent Alexander-Arnold. And then, that would be it. No more saved TikToks. No more scrolling through the depths of the internet for traces of you. No more fucking butterflies in his stomach because he never wanted to see that stupid smile again. He repeated it to himself like a mantra, like a lifeline. 

And when the show began Trent’s eyes remained forward, his posture composed, his face unreadable. He nodded along as models passed by, keeping his mind disciplined. Jacket, shirt, pants, shoes. Jacket, shirt, pants, shoes. A cycle. A rhythm. An exercise in focus.

I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. But his heart had other plans.

-

The crowd was thick, a sea of bodies moving in waves, all trying to funnel out of the venue. You had no interest in the madness of the main exit, the flashing cameras, the shouting press. You just wanted to slip away unseen. So you took a quieter route—through a back hallway, down a side passage meant for press and staff. Your press pass let you move freely, let you weave between security and through a door meant for celebrities who wanted to dodge the chaos. But even here, in the so-called quiet exit, there was a crowd. Not the screaming kind, but the important kind—editors, models, designers, people waiting for private cars to take them to afterparties hidden behind wrought-iron gates and velvet ropes. You exhaled, shifting on your feet, glancing down at your phone. Maybe you should just take the Métro. This was insane.

And then—it happened. A shift in the atmosphere. A pull at the edges of your consciousness. Trent saw you first. The moment his eyes landed on you, his pulse kicked into something frantic, something desperate. His stomach clenched so hard he thought he might be sick. He hadn’t prepared for this. He hadn’t planned for you. Not out here. Not now. For a split second, he hesitated. The crowd was too thick, the timing was wrong. He hadn’t even figured out what he was going to say yet. And then, his body moved before his mind could catch up.

Through the throng of people, past the blur of conversation and laughter, like some invisible force was pulling him to you. His feet carried him forward, slinking through the crowd with the precision of a man who had spent years anticipating movement before it happened.

And then, there you were standing at the edge of the street, just before an alleyway, huddled with a small group of people you didn’t know, scrolling through your phone. Unbothered. Unaware. He leaned against a lamppost, watching. A smug smile played at his lips, slow and knowing, the kind of smile that belonged to a man who had already made up his mind.

Game on.

-

Paris was a living, breathing entity—golden light from the streetlamps pooling on the damp cobblestones, casting soft halos on the glistening streets. Conversations hummed around Trent, overlapping in a symphony of French and English, punctuated by the low purr of engines as sleek black cars crept along the curb. The air carried a slight chill, the kind that settled deep in the bones, yet Trent barely noticed. At first, it was just a flicker, a passing glimpse of someone impossibly familiar. But then his gaze focused, sharpened, and suddenly it was you standing at the edge of the crowd, head tilted down, your phone balanced in one hand, the other absently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The movement was effortless, thoughtless, and yet Trent felt it like a physical thing—a tether drawing him forward.

The world around him blurred, his pulse tightening in his throat as he took you in. You were in a green miniskirt [ref index] that skimmed high on your thighs, your legs disappearing into over the knee heeled boots that made your posture impossibly poised, effortlessly confident. The dim glow of the streetlights kissed your skin, accentuating the soft curve of your cheekbone, the delicate slope of your nose, the barely-there part of your lips as you focused on something unseen. There was an ease about you, a quiet self-assurance, but Trent saw what others wouldn’t—the slight furrow of your brow, the way your gaze flickered along the line of cars, scanning, searching. You were looking for an escape. The realization settled like a stone in his stomach. Of course you were. You always seemed to slip away just before he could catch you, leaving nothing but the ghost of your presence in your wake. And yet—he moved.  He didn’t think, didn’t second-guess. His body acted before his mind could talk him out of it, guiding him through the clusters of people with the quiet ease of someone used to navigating chaos. His breath stayed steady, his hands loose at his sides, but his pulse was a different story—wild, erratic, pounding in a way that made his fingertips tingle.

Close enough to catch the faintest hint of your perfume, something warm and feminine and so achingly familiar it sent him reeling as he leaned up against that lamppost, waiting  just a moment, allowing the anticipation to settle, to stretch, to coil between you like a taut wire before finally—finally—he spoke.

“Work or play, beautiful?” He asked. It was effortless, a line laced with that easy confidence that had always come naturally to him. But underneath it, beneath the charm, the bravado, there was something else. Something raw. Something desperate. Because he wasn’t sure what would happen if you turned, if you met his gaze and looked at him the way you had all those weeks ago. He wasn’t sure he could survive it. And yet, the moment you stiffened—just a fraction, just enough to betray your awareness of him—he knew he was gone. You turned slowly, deliberately, and his world tilted. The moment stretched, seconds bleeding together as his gaze drank you in. Up close, you were even more devastating. He didn’t forget how you looked up close but he forgot what it felt like to have you up close. Your lips parted on a quiet inhale, the barest flicker of something unreadable flashing across your face before you smoothed it away with a well-practiced ease. But he caught it. He felt it. A thousand things must have been racing through your mind—shock, hesitation, maybe even something close to regret—but you hid it well. Too well. Instead, you smiled, a slow, measured thing that barely curved the corners of your lips but still managed to shake him to his core.

“Working,” you answered lightly, though Trent didn’t miss the way your fingers flexed against your phone. A lie. And not even a particularly good one. You got invited because of work, yeah, but working as in getting paid, and taking photos, no. Not the case. You felt stupid and flustered like a teenage girl with a crush. You turned your head to look down the street as if you could single out your ride in the long line of blacked out suvs.  His gaze flickered over your face, his smirk deepening. He should call you on it, push back, make you squirm. But he couldn’t. His gaze had already dropped, locking onto the bare skin of your arm as if magnetized, and then—he touched you.

“You have any say in the invite, then?” He stepped closer—not enough to overwhelm, just enough to test.  It was instinct more than intention, his fingers wrapping around your forearm, thumb brushing over the delicate skin just below your wrist. It was a fleeting thing, just a squeeze, but it was enough to make your breath catch, enough to send something molten rushing through his veins.  You looked down, lashes lowering, and something in your expression shifted. It was subtle, but he felt it. He watched as you registered the touch, as memory took hold, as your breath hitched just so. Trent watched it unfold in real-time, watched the way your eyes lingered on his hand, how your lashes fluttered just slightly as memory took root.

Ibiza. The press of his hands against your skin. The heat of it. The slow, unrelenting pressure. The way you had melted beneath him, unraveled in his arms, undone by the very same touch you were staring at now. A slow, sharp ache coiled deep in his stomach.But then—you looked up.

“No, sorry.” You exhaled with a barely there smile. You said no. ‘Leave Trent’ was the thought in his head. But you also said sorry, like you wish you had, like maybe you wished he was here. Trent swallowed hard, pushing the thought aside. He should let you go. He should be the one walking away. But he didn’t know you did wish he was here. You just weren’t sure why that want was so scary to you. Why the desire was causing you to feel more hesitant with him. And when your eyes met his, steady and unwavering, suddenly, he was drowning and he didn’t want to come up to the surface.

The noise of the street faded. The weight of the past month settled heavily on his chest. He had spent weeks trying to convince himself that this thing between you was fleeting. That the pull he felt was nothing more than lust. That if he saw you again, he could play the game, win it, end it on his own terms. But standing here, caught in your gaze, he knew the truth. He had already lost.

It was unfair, the way your gaze locked onto his, steady and unwavering, peeling back every ounce of control he had built around himself. The world blurred into a simple ache. The silent war raging inside of him, one he had no hope of winning.

“What you doing tonight?” he asked, keeping his voice smooth, steady, even as his heart hammered wildly in his chest. You hesitated. It was so slight, so fleeting, but he saw it. And for that split second, hope flickered in his chest—reckless and stupid and all-consuming. And then, from the corner of his eye, Trent saw movement. A sleek black SUV rolled up to the curb, a friend leaning out the window, waving you over. Your way out. He knew it the moment your gaze flickered toward the car, knew it when your weight shifted just slightly, when your fingers brushed against his for the briefest moment before—you stepped back. Just enough to break the contact. Just enough to remind him who was in control. And then you smiled—slow, knowing, devastating.

“Maybe you,” you murmured, voice light, teasing, as if you hadn’t just shattered something inside him. And then, because you were cruel, you winked. Before he could react, you turned, heels clicking sharply as you made your way toward the waiting car. As you scurried down the alleyway, the clatter of your boots against the cobblestone echoed between the narrow walls, a hurried rhythm to match the wild thrum of your pulse. The SUV door was open, your friend waiting inside, but something—someone—pulled at you like an unseen force.

Just before climbing in, you turned, glancing over your shoulder, and in the low golden glow of the Parisian street lamp, you found him. Still standing there. Trent. His expression unreadable, caught between frustration and something softer, something raw. The kind of look that could haunt someone if they let it. And then, without thinking, without meaning to hurt—because you hadn’t fully understood yet that you could—you mouthed it.

"See you." Two simple words, weightless in sound but devastating in meaning and in memory. And just like that, it wrecked him. Because as much as Trent tried to convince himself that he didn’t care, that you were just a passing thing, just another pretty girl he could let slip through his fingers without a second thought—those two words sent him hurtling back. Back to Ibiza.

To the way you left him then, slipping through the crowd and into the night like a ghost, like something beautiful and fleeting, something never meant to be his. He remembered standing there, watching you go, the cool ocean breeze doing nothing to soothe the burn of wanting. And now, here you were again—turning away, disappearing into the city, leaving him standing exactly where he swore he’d never be left again. It hurt. More than he was willing to admit. More than he had prepared for. Trent exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his face as a quiet, incredulous laugh slipped past his lips.

“What the fuck…” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Somehow, without even realizing it, he had ended up playing a game he could never seem to win. Worse still? You didn’t even know you were playing.

-

The hum of the city was muffled inside the car, the low murmur of voices and the occasional honk of impatient drivers fading into the background as you exhaled, pressing your head against the cool glass. Outside, Paris moved on—oblivious to the storm raging inside you. Your fingers absentmindedly dipped into your pocket, finding the familiar weight of your Contax camera. A habit. An instinct. You weren’t working tonight, yet here you were, capturing. Framing. Freezing a moment you didn’t understand. Through the tinted window, your lens found him. Trent stood alone in the dimly lit alleyway, his head dipped low, one hand raking through his curls in frustration, in disbelief—in something you didn’t want to name. The glow from a nearby streetlamp cast his silhouette in sharp relief, highlighting the tension in his shoulders, the way his mouth parted slightly like he was about to say something—to call after you—but he didn’t. And you took the shot. The shutter clicked, quiet yet deafening in your ears. A single frame, a flicker in time that would soon exist on film, tangible and unchangeable. But why? Why did you just take that photo?

You swallowed, gripping the camera tighter as a strange, unfamiliar weight settled in your chest. You wanted to remember him. That much was clear.  It was like you wanted to remember him, but he wasn’t going anywhere, you likely were going to the very same place. But why did it feel like he was already slipping away? You were the one who had left. The one who had turned, who had run like some teenage girl with a crush too big to hold. You had thought yourself clever, cheeky—leaving him with that parting line, a playful wink, a final act of control in a game you weren’t even sure you were playing. You began to wonder if it was cringey you just said that at all. And now? Now you weren’t so sure. Because even as the car rolled forward, even as the alley faded into the distance, you felt it—that strange, sinking sensation in the pit of your stomach. The feeling of having lost something before you ever even had the chance to hold it.

And maybe that was the very thing neither of you understood. This wasn’t about winning or losing. It wasn’t a game. It never had been. This was a person. A moment. An imprint on your life, whether you wanted to remember it or not. And you could feel it happening—something irreversible, something already set in motion. The film would develop. It always did. A latent image, unseen yet already there—waiting. Trent had poured himself into your world like chemicals in a darkroom, slipping into your bloodstream, into the spaces between memories you weren’t ready to claim. And now, whether you wanted it or not, the picture was forming.

Permanent. Unchanging. Completely insensitive to the light.

•

Thank you for reading! Welcome to my new fic 'Aperture' I really hope you enjoy this chapter and look forward to what's ahead!

PLEASE like, comment, or message what you think!!!

Next part - Chapter 4 Coming Soon!

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[consume-cs]

valentina (02) ◯○ more than a midnight snack

deep down, when i face it all i want is you | japanese | 🌒 enhypen content | materialist

english isn't my first language. nishimura riki. non idol — both craving for a sweet treat at midnight ﷼

"𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝚄𝚁𝙴? Can we do it?" You take a seat in bed while your boyfriend cross his arms behind his head, staring at you with a subtle smile as you look adorable to him.

“I don’t see any problem with it if we are quiet” He tells and you think about it until you say yes.

Once you’re out of his room, he holds your hand guiding you through his old house. Last night, you landed in Japan by yourself to visit his parents and you haven’t been there that often but the visits are getting more frequent, however, you still not used to exploring the house where he grew up.

It’s late at night and you couldn’t sleep because you’re craving something sweet to eat, and your boyfriend noticed you weren’t sleeping and that’s how you two ended up in the kitchen.

He turned on the lights and you cover your face due to clarity, following your boyfriend from behind as you still hold his hand. Niki opens the refrigerator and he takes out a small container with chocolate chips cookies.

“I knew this would happen so I bought it for you” He says casually with his deep voice, making you melt because you didn’t realize how much he knows you.

His cold hands find your waist and he pulls you up onto the kitchen counter. He makes sure to open the container with cookies for you and give you one as he takes one for him as well.

The silence is dancing around each other and you’re too concentrated looking around that you don’t notice him looking at you until you feel his hand in your hair, placing a piece of it behind your ear.

“Don’t you feel tired?” He asks quietly. He can see your tiredness in your face due to the jet lag but he wants to hear you.

“A little, but I’m happy to be here” You respond with a cute smile.

He’s still touching your hair, looking at you with his lovely eyes and you do it as well, feeling overwhelmed by all the love he’s expressing through a simple glance. This is when his playful side is hidden and this side of him comes out, which you don’t see often.

You continue to stare at each other for what seems like hours, but the time with him seems to be eternal and unforgettable. And suddenly, you feel his lips on yours, kissing you so gentle and warm.

Your cheeks turn red and you look away, being all shy by his deep look.

“Did you like traveling by yourself? I guess not because you can’t live without me” He asks with a smile, teasing you a little bit as he looks for your attention, wanting you to look at him again.

You take a bite of the cookie, without answering his question on purpose.

“I guess I’m right” And he’s right because you felt so lonely and lost without him by your side.

He kiss your forehead and pulls you closer to him, hugging your waist and you wrap your legs around his waist.

“We must go back to my room, it’s getting colder here” He says and he puts his hands on your thighs, carrying you in his arms about to leave the kitchen.

“Wait, let me grab another one” Niki goes back to the kitchen counter and let you take another cookie.

You two go back to his room and finally catch sleep until the next morning.

xoxo girl💋…

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