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noralia20 · 1 day ago

Note

your fics are poetry, soooo romantic and dreamy!!! hoping for jannik angst 👉👈 maybe exes who were in a secret relationship but im trusting your vision hehe thank you🙏🙏🙏

My most beautiful tragedy...

sum up : When secrets and expectations are too heavy, decisions are taken. But can you ever take it back ?

Ahhhh I loved that idea. Still French!reader au, I really like that one. She’s in med school because I just finished my first year (hardest one in France) so small tribute. Have fun !

You met in the heat of a Spanish summer — the kind of warmth that clung to your skin and made everything feel half-dream, half-dare. You weren't supposed to be there. He wasn’t supposed to notice.

Your father had been invited to a training camp in Valencia — one of the top sports physicians, always traveling, always surrounded by athletes with aching joints and rising dreams. You'd tagged along only because Lille had begun to feel suffocating, and Spain at least promised a little sun, a little freedom. Your weren't allowed to wander the grounds. The tennis camp had rules. Schedules. Boundaries. But you liked breaking them. And one night, barefoot and bored, you slipped away from the guest quarters and into the shadows of the clay courts.

That’s when you saw him.

A tall figure in the dark, hoodie low over his brow, bouncing a tennis ball against the court wall in steady, hypnotic thumps. You recognized him — of course you did. Jannik Sinner. La volpe. Even back then, people whispered about him like he was more comet than boy. Rising star. Future number one.

He turned, a flicker of surprise on his face.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said, voice soft, in accented English.

You smiled. “Neither are you.”

It started like that — shared glances over protein bars and taped ankles, secret midnight walks under the orange trees behind the courts. He taught you how to serve; youtaught him how to curse in French. There was something thrilling about the quiet, about existing in each other’s lives like a secret nobody else was allowed to touch.

Nobody knew. Not you father, not his coaches. Not your friends. You kept it sacred, hidden. At first, it was for fun — that adolescent thrill of something forbidden. But months bled into years, and the secret only grew deeper, heavier. Like something precious you'd buried in the chest of your ribs.

By 2022, you were both adults, and your love had outgrown the shadows — but you never brought it into the light.

You moved through airports alone, never beside him. Watched his matches in silence, heart clenched every time his name was shouted into stadiums full of strangers. Ypur fingers itched to reach for him when he won, but you stayed in the dark, just as you'd agreed.

And he — he always called when he could. Whispered things in Italian and English, his voice hushed through hotel walls, apologizing when he couldn’t come home for weeks. "You’re my world, even if no one knows it," he used to say. And you believed him.

Until 2023.

He didn’t call that week. Not even a text. You knew something was wrong, but you waited. You always waited.

When he finally came, it wasn’t to see you. It was to end it.

You met in a quiet hotel room in Monte Carlo, just before one of his big matches. He didn’t look like yours anymore — his hair shorter, his smile dimmer. He spoke in short, clean sentences. Clinical. Controlled.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

You laughed, not because it was funny, but because it felt impossible. “Do what?”

“This,” he said. “Us.” You world cracked like thin ice. “Why?”

He didn’t answer at first. Just looked down at his hands — those hands you used to kiss after every match. “Because it’s too complicated,” he said finally. “Because people wouldn’t understand. My family wouldn’t. The public wouldn’t.”

Your voice was hollow. “I thought that’s why we kept it secret. To protect it.” He didn’t meet your eyes. “I need to focus on my career. I have a shot now. A real one. And I can’t… I can’t afford distractions.”

“Is that what I was to you?” you asked, heart breaking open. “A distraction?”

He didn’t say yes. But he didn’t say no. You left before you started crying. Not that he tried to stop you.

No one ever knew you'd loved each other. Not even your father. To the world, Jannik Sinner rose like fire — steady, quiet, brilliant. A golden boy with nothing holding him back.

And you— you became a ghost in his past. A shadow he never had to name.

But you remembered.

You remembered the way he kissed your fingers when he thought you were asleep. The way he once whispered, "Vorrei l'eternità, ma non so se me lo merito." (“I want forever, but I don’t know if I deserve it.”)

You remembered being his secret, and how beautiful and lonely that made you feel.

You didn’t break in the way he expected.

Yes, there were nights where the silence screamed. Where you sat on your bedroom floor in Lyon, clutching a hoodie that still smelled faintly of clay and mint and heartbreak. But you didn’t fall apart.

You rebuilt.

You never told anyone.

Not even your roommate in Lyon, the one who knew how you liked you favourite drink and when you needed space. Not the girls in your study group, or the boy who tried to flirt with you in anatomy class.

Not your father — especially not him.

You carried Jannik like a fading scar beneath your ribcage. A quiet place no one could touch.

Piece by slow, stubborn piece, you found yourself again. Med school in Lyon was grueling, but you threw yourself into it with a kind of fury. Your hands no longer trembled. Your gaze no longer searched the crowd for someone who had made you invisible.

You didn’t watch tennis. Not anymore. So when people talked about Jannik Sinner, the new golden boy — all you did was nod vaguely. As if you barely knew who they meant.

Maybe if you forgot the curve of his jaw in candlelight, or the way he whispered your name in between two languages, the memories would finally dissolve.

And maybe if no one else knew… then none of it had ever existed.

But life — in all its chaos and absurd timing — had other plans. Six months passed like that. You didn’t speak his name, even in your head. Until Carlos.

Carlos Alcaraz was a thunderstorm in human form. Everyone knew it — the energy, the chaos, the kind of joy that seemed to radiate even through a TV screen. You had known him from the sidelines of Jannik’s world. The loud one. The rival. The one who made crowds chant and girls scream. The one your ex always eyed with a kind of quiet, respectful wariness.

You hadn’t expected him. It always starts like that afterall. Not in a sun-soaked café in Nice. Not with that kind of smile — the kind that came with heat and history.

But now, Carlos looked at you like you were the sun and he was done orbiting anyone else. He recognized you instantly. You weren’t sure whether that surprised you or not.

“Eres la hija del médico, ¿verdad?” ("You're the doctor's daughter, right?") he said, with a crooked grin and far too much mischief for one afternoon. "You’re the girl who disappeared."

You rolled your eyes. “And you’re the boy who never learned to stop flirting.”

He laughed — loud, warm, unashamed. The kind of laugh Jannik never allowed himself to have much in public.

He didn’t flirt that day. He talked. About nothing and everything. About back home. About how hard it was to find friends who didn’t want something. About how he hated suits and ties and events where people spoke only to be heard.

You were wary. You had every right to be. But Carlos kept showing up —never pushed.

And he was persistent.

Not in a way that overwhelmed, but in a way that made you laugh when you hadn’t meant to. He texted you memes at 2 a.m., sent you pastries after your night shifts, even memorized your class schedule just to call while you walked home.

He didn’t ask questions you couldn’t answer. Didn’t touch the wound while he never knew the reason it existed.

Carlos was loud — in his affections, in his joy. Where Jannik had whispered, Carlos shouted. Where Jannik hid you like a secret, Carlos made you his anthem. He gave you the world just for you to look at him.

And slowly, painfully, you let him in.

He was everything Jannik wasn’t. Not better. Just… different.

Carlos was loud in every way. Laughed with his whole chest. Took pictures of you at the worst moments and made them his phone background. He posted you after a few months. Because he communicated, because he trusted you and this relationship. And when the press caught on, expecting some tabloid-style scandal from tennis’s golden playboy, they got something else instead.

They got a man whose smile softened when he looked at you.

A man who took you to Ibiza, yes — but who never once left you behind. A man who kissed your forehead on live streams and carried your shoes when you got tired. A man who even started to learn your language when he still had trouble with English sometimes. Who never made you feel like a secret.

He held your hand in airports.

He called you mi cielo in interviews.

And maybe — just maybe — you were beginning to believe that love didn’t have to be hidden to be real.

The day you passed your sixth-year med exams, Lyon was bursting with early summer heat. You stood on your balcony, tired and proud, champagne glass in hand, the city pulsing softly around you.

And that was the day Jannik became number one.

You saw the headline by accident — "Jannik Sinner, the New World No. 1" — and for a moment, your breath caught.

You stared at the screen, at his name. His photo. His triumph. You imagined the weight of the trophy in his hands, the roar of the crowd, the shine of everything he ever wanted coming true.

He did it.

Without you.

You raised your glass to the sky, as if to toast the past — to that quiet, hidden boy who once kissed you behind tennis courts and told you you were everything, even when he was too afraid to say it out loud.

“Félicitations,” (“Congratulations,”) you whispered, to no one.

And then you turned your phone face-down, walked back inside, and into Carlos's arms — where you belonged now.

He had everything.

The number one ranking. The trophies. The endorsement deals. The legacy.

Everything he’d ever told himself he wanted.

And yet.

Sometimes, in hotel rooms that were too quiet, too clean, he would lie awake and feel like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

The cameras followed him now like shadows, constant and glaring. He was the headline. The golden boy. The pride of Italy. And still, some days, he woke up and felt... hollow.

The dream was real. He had climbed the mountain, conquered the court, made history — but he had lost the only thing that made it all feel worth it.

He had lost you.

At first, he told himself it had been necessary. Strategic. Necessary sacrifices, right? That’s what everyone said. Focus, discipline, control. And you— you had been everything but that. You were laughter at midnight, warmth in a hotel bed, a voice that made him forget the match he lost. You made him feel, and for so long he’d convinced himself that feelings were distractions. That needing someone made him weak.

But you had never been his weakness. You had been his home.

And when he let you go, he told himself you'd wait. Or maybe you'd fade. Either way, he’d be fine.

But then came Carlos.

He saw the pictures first — the ones from Madrid, Ibiza, Roland-Garros. The internet couldn’t get enough of it: Carlos Alcaraz and the mystery girl who tamed him. The one who made the golden boy of Spain settle down.

Jannik clicked through them, quietly. He tried to feel nothing. But the look in your eyes — that soft, glowing warmth you once gave to him — it was there again.

Only now, it wasn’t his.

You looked happy. Radiant. You didn’t need to hide anymore. You weren't in the shadows, waiting for phone calls at midnight. You were front-row now, your smile splashed across timelines and headlines. Carlos held your hand like he couldn’t bear to let go. Like he never would.

It made Jannik sick — not out of bitterness, but out of guilt. Out of grief.

Because he remembered your silence after he ended it. How you didn’t fight, didn’t beg. You just... left. And he had convinced himself that meant you didn’t care as much. But maybe it had always meant the opposite — that you loved him enough to let him go.

Anna came after. Blonde. Elegant. Photogenic.

A “match,” people called them. Publicly perfect.

But Jannik always felt like he was wearing someone else’s suit. Something too tight, too glossy. He smiled on red carpets, posed for campaigns, stood beside someone who looked like a partner but never felt like one. Anna loved the spotlight. She thrived in it.

And him? He just wanted to escape it some days.

He tried to drown in work. The gym. Practice. Tournament after tournament. Until tennis was the only voice in his life.

But the quiet always came back.

And in that quiet, he missed you.

The engagement news came in early January, 2025.

He almost missed it — buried in travel, training, fake smiles. But it started as whispers in locker rooms, then headlines on social media: a diamond ring on your hand, shining under Spanish sky.

At first, he brushed it off. Another rumor. People liked to make things up.

But then came the official post. A photo of your hand — the same hand he once kissed at dawn — now wrapped in Carlos’s, ring glittering like a promise. And soon it came into his mail.

Engagement party of Y/N M/N L/N and Carlos Alcaraz Garfia

Set for June 2025, between Grand Slam commitments

The words blurred for a moment. He set the card down. Picked it up again. Read it twice more, just to be sure.

And there you were — not a blurry photo this time, not a passing rumor. No, you were smiling. Laughing. On the official post, avideo showed you twirling in a garden in Valencia, your ring flashing as Carlos kissed your cheek.

And then it hit him.

He thought it would pass. That you and Carlos were a phase. A fling. He thought the fire between them would die out — the way so many short-lived romances do.

But it didn’t.

It bloomed.

And now, you were marrying him.

You were going to marry Carlos — the boy Jannik used to beat on the court, and now the man who had everything Jannik had thrown away. And he had to watch it happen.

Late May, Paris

Six months passed like a blur — joyful, exhausting, sun-drenched and stormy in the ways only a life on the move can be.

You followed Carlos through a whirlwind season, hopping from one city to the next, his hand always finding yours in airports, press rooms, hotel elevators. He held you like a compass — like he needed your calm to steady his storm. And you gave it freely, because he never asked you to be less, or more, or someone you weren’t.

And together, you planned a wedding.

Simple, small. Spanish countryside during december. Olive trees. White linen. A family meal under the stars. You didn’t want extravagance — just honesty. And Carlos, bless his heart, gave it to you in spades. His mother helped with the venue. His father insisted on the music. His cousins would all be there, loud and dancing before the sun even set.

It was going to be perfect.

And then, he mentioned inviting a few tennis friends. "Not too many," he promised, scrolling through names on his phone. "Just the ones who matter."

You hadn’t thought about it.

Hadn’t realized the possibility until it was too late.

Because of course Jannik would be on that list. Carlos liked him — respected him. Called him “mi rival favorito.” Jannik had congratulated him publicly when you got engaged. Of course Carlos wouldn’t see any reason not to invite him.

Because he didn’t know.

No one did.

Not about the summer nights in Spain. The years hidden behind closed doors. The way you once stitched your life around Jannik’s without anyone ever knowing. You never told Carlos, not because you were hiding — but because it didn’t belong in your now. It was part of another life. One you buried gently, and hoped would stay quiet.

But the ghost of it still breathed sometimes.

That night in Paris, a chill ran through the open window, soft with spring. Roland-Garros roared in the background of the city. Carlos had just come back from another win. He was shirtless, warm against your side in bed, his hand resting loosely over your stomach.

He looked at you like he always did — full of unshakable belief. And then he asked, voice low in the quiet dark:

“Estás segura?” (“Are you sure?”)

You turned toward him, blinking slowly. “About what?”

He hesitated, then tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “About us. About the wedding. About everything. You’ve been quiet lately.”

It wasn’t suspicion. It was love, laced with concern. Carlos never needed reassurances for himself — he needed to know you felt safe. You inhaled deeply, then nodded, forehead pressing to his. “Yes. I’m sure.”

And you were.

Because Jannik had once loved you in secret. Carlos loved you out loud. Because Jannik left to chase gold. Carlos stayed and built a home. And because even now, with the past rising like fog in the corners of your thoughts, you knew one thing clearly:

This was where you were supposed to be.

“I don’t doubt you,” you whispered. “I just… want to do this right. It matters to me. You matter.”

Carlos smiled, slow and certain. “Then we’ll do it right. Together.” And you kissed him, long and deep, anchoring yourself to the truth you’d chosen. Even if ghosts walked the aisle too.

Even if one pair of green eyes watched from the crowd, wondering what might have been.

Roland-Garros Final, June 2025

It was the kind of day that smelled like history.

Roland-Garros was buzzing — the sun high, the crowd tense, Paris holding its breath. The men's final was everything the world had hoped for: Jannik Sinner versus Carlos Alcaraz. Titans. Rivals. Fire and ice. One chasing his crown, the other determined to keep it.

And you — you were in the stands, trying not to crumble.

Your sunglasses shielded more than your eyes. They were your armor, a barrier between you and a world that didn’t know. Didn’t know you had kissed both men. Had loved one and lost him. Had built a life with the other.

Carlos’s family surrounded you, already giddy with nerves. His mother clasped your hand, whispering in rapid Spanish when the rallies got too intense. His father clenched his fists beside you like he was trying to will the ball across the net.

You clapped. You cheered. You smiled.

But behind your glasses, your gaze kept drifting — to the figure on the other side of the court, lean and composed, red hair tousled with sweat, blue eyes sharp with focus.

Jannik looked… empty.

At first, he had the upper hand. The first two sets had been his. He played like a man possessed — efficient, distant, almost cruel in his precision. Carlos fought, of course. He always did. But Jannik had been on another level.

Until he wasn’t.

You felt it before it happened. A shift in the atmosphere. Like something inside Jannik cracked.

And Carlos rose.

Set three. Set four. The crowd screamed. Carlos grinned through the chaos, wild and radiant. You were on your feet half the time, heart pounding so loud it blocked out the commentary. Jannik's serve wavered. His shoulders stiffened. His eyes darkened.

Set five was war.

You forgot to breathe. And still they played. Until finally, after 5 hours and 29 minutes, it was over.

And Carlos… Carlos won. He collapsed to his back, hands to his face. And then he was up — running, breathless, laughing. Straight to you.

He jumped through the steps guiding him to the stands. Found you like a beacon. Wrapped you in his arms and lifted you off your feet, spinning you in front of the cameras, the world, and the future.

You laughed and sobbed into his shoulder, holding him like he was the only thing tethering you to the earth. And in that moment — in the haze of the Paris sun and roaring applause — it was all true.

He had won. Not just the title. But everything. Even you.

While he sat still on the bench, a towel draped over his shoulders, clay sticking to his calves, blood rushing in his ears.

He had lost. Not just the match. It wasn’t even about the trophy anymore.

Carlos had beaten him before — it wasn’t new. But this? This was different. Because somewhere between the fourth set and the end of his world, Jannik had realized he wasn’t playing for points.

He had been playing for you. You were the last piece. The last thing he had ever loved without strategy, without calculation. The one thing that made the world slow down instead of spin faster.

And you were in the arms of the man who just shattered him.

He glanced over — once — and saw you wrapped in Carlos’s embrace, laughing through tears, your hand brushing his hair as he kissed your forehead. You looked like home. But not his. Not anymore.

He turned away quickly, gripping the towel like it might ground him. His heart thudded painfully — not with adrenaline, but with loss. The kind that lingers long after the press conferences are over and the cameras stop flashing.

He had given up everything for this sport. Sacrificed privacy. Joy. Love. And now?

Carlos had the girl and the title.

Jannik had clay on his shoes and ghosts in his throat.

For a long time, he didn’t move. Just stared into the void, feeling something final settle in his chest. Not bitterness. Not even anger. Just… regret.

That night, after the stadium cleared, you found a quiet corner backstage. Carlos was still celebrating with his team, his smile electric, infectious.

You stepped out into the corridor and saw Jannik, walking toward the exit alone. He paused when he saw you. Neither of you spoke. The silence was thick. Familiar. Heavy with all the words left unsaid over the years. His eyes searched yours — not pleading, not apologizing. Just… remembering.

You gave him a small smile. Soft. Kind. And then you whispered, “You played beautifully.” He nodded once. Voice rough: “So did he.”

That's all you had to say. And you walked away.

June 11th, 2025 — Paris

Engagement Party

The room was everything Paris promised at night — timeless, warm, and touched with gold.

It sat high in a Haussmannian building, its balconies open to let in the breeze. Inside, lights glowed soft and honey-colored. Laughter bubbled through the air, mixed with clinking glasses and the low hum of music that felt more like background to something much bigger: love, celebrated loudly and without hesitation.

You stood by Carlos, hand resting lightly on his arm as people drifted past — family, old friends, a few faces from the tour. Everyone had something to say, a compliment to offer, a toast to give. You passed around canapés with a smile so effortless it seemed carved from light, your cream dress dancing gently around your legs as you moved.

Carlos couldn’t stop looking at you — everyone could see that. He reached for your hand between conversations, pressed soft kisses to your hair, whispered something in your ear that made you throw your head back in laughter

You didn’t notice the pair of eyes watching you from across the room.

But Jannik did.

He stood near the wall, just out of the crowd’s rhythm, a shadow of a man caught between past and present.

You didn’t see him when he entered. You were mid-conversation with your grandmother, glowing from the inside out. He saw the way you curled slightly toward Carlos when he leaned in to greet your cousin. He saw how your fingers brushed his back when you passed him a flute of champagne. Every gesture subtle, intimate, natural — like you’d been doing it your whole life.

And for a moment, Jannik hated himself.

Because he had known that version of you first.

The quiet intimacy.

The soft glances.

The language of fingertips and silence.

He had known every crevice of your soul — your fears, your dreams, the way you used to close your eyes when the Spanish sun set too fast. He had held you in secret like a treasure he wasn’t brave enough to claim.

And now here you were. Shining. Loved. Belonging.

To someone else.

To him.

Jannik's hand clenched around the stem of the champagne coupe he hadn’t touched. He only snapped out of it when Anna appeared beside him in a flash of red, the shimmer of her gown catching the light like a mirror. She offered the glass with a flirtatious tilt of her head.

“You’re brooding again,” she teased lightly, her voice dripping with effortless glamour. “Smile. People are watching.”

He took the glass without meeting her gaze, pasting on a half-smile that felt like glass in his mouth. “Ovviamente.” ("Of course")

She was already turning away, laughing at something someone said about her dress, soaking in the attention like it was a drug. She didn’t notice he wasn’t drinking. She never asked if he was okay.

He didn’t care. Not really.

Because across the room, you laughed again. Threw your head back again. Let Carlos pull you closer with his hand at your waist, again.

And Jannik stared.

At you.

The future Mrs. Alcaraz.

After all the smiles, the kisses on cheeks, the congratulations that blurred into one, you slipped away quietly.

Your fingers pushed past the linen curtain, revealing a stone balcony bathed in moonlight. The summer air kissed your skin, and for the first time that evening, your chest exhaled fully. You stepped out, heels clicking softly against the aged stone, and leaned onto the railing, gazing out over the city. The balcony was narrow and elegant, stone railing carved with age and care. The night stretched beyond you — the rooftops of Paris lit in a haze of golden windows and blue twilight. From here, the city hummed like a living thing.

Paris looked like it was holding its breath. Cars passed slowly beneath, lights flickered from distant windows, and the air buzzed with quiet life.

You glanced down at your hand.

The diamond shimmered, catching the light. A promise, a future, a life you chose and that chose you back. You smiled. And then—

“Congratulazioni.” ("Congratulations.")

His voice sliced through the silence. Low. Cautious. Familiar. You froze. Your spine straightened as if against a cold wind. Slowly, you turned your head just enough to see him standing there, only steps away — him. Jannik.

Jannik stepped up beside you, but kept his distance — almost two meters away, like the space between you had been measured in guilt. His hands were in the pockets of his suit pants, his tie slightly loose like he’d been tugging at it all night.

Your heart didn’t flutter. It clenched. “Thanks,” you said curtly, your voice steady despite the pounding in your ears.

He shifted awkwardly, hands in the pockets of his slacks, gaze flicking between the skyline and the back of your head. “It’s… really nice out here.”

You didn’t answer. He tried again.

"You look…" he began, but the words fumbled. "Happy. You look happy."

You stayed silent, eyes locked on the skyline.

"I didn’t expect… I mean, I didn’t know you'd—"

"Get engaged?" you cut in flatly. "That tends to happen when people fall in love."

The silence between you was taut. Painful. The noise from inside became muffled behind the glass. Out here, there were no photographers. No spectators. Just ghosts.

��Have you been back to Spain lately?”

Still silence. He exhaled a short, bitter laugh. “God, I sound stupid.” You closed your eyes. “Then stop talking.” That quieted him. For a moment. Then something inside him cracked.

“I can’t believe it.” Your jaw tightened.

“I mean—this... all of this. You. Him. The ring. I—it can’t be real. I didn’t think—I didn’t know.” You turned to face him now, your back no longer a shield. “What didn’t you know, Jannik?”

His eyes were frantic, chest rising fast. “That you were it, the one. That leaving you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. I thought it was for the best. That you’d hold me back. That we’d outgrow each other. That it wouldn’t last. But I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong—”

“Jannik—”

“Please.” His voice cracked. “Please don’t marry him. Don’t do this. Not yet. Not to me.”

Your hands gripped the stone railing until your knuckles paled. He took a step closer, voice breaking with every syllable. “I’ll end things with Anna. I’ll go public. I’ll tell the world everything. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I don’t care if you hate me for the rest of our lives—just let me be in it. You can hold what I did against me for the rest of our lives, I don't care, just be mine. Just… let it be me.”

You stared at him. Eyes wide. Mouth parted. And then— You laughed. Not because it was funny. Because it was unbelievable.

“Let you be in it?” Your voice sharpened. “Where were you when I cried myself to sleep for months, Jannik?” He blinked, stunned. “You disappeared without a fight. Without a word. Just walked away like we had been nothing. Like I was a mistake you couldn’t afford.” He tried to speak, but you stepped forward. “I gave you everything. And you left me alone to pretend it never happened. You made me erase you.” Tears welled in your eyes, hot and fast, but they didn’t fall.

“I rebuilt my life from ashes. I swallowed every sob, every memory, every ‘what if,’ and turned it into silence. Because you made sure no one would ever know what we had. And now? Now you think you can beg for it back like it’s yours to take?”

“I—” he rasped. “I didn’t know it would feel like this. I didn’t know I’d—”

“That’s the thing,” you snapped. “You never knew. You just left.”

His voice cracked, you had never seen the Fox crack. At least not in such a messy way. He looked at the city of love for a moment, then deep into your eyes, the lights reflecting into his welled up tears. "Why him ?" You could only shalke your head. "I could never fall so low and make a guy fall for me to spite you... It happened, that's it. I fell in love, hard. Because he was there to catch me. And I see everyday that it was never a choice, he wasn't the option, he is the one. In the way he loves me, in the way he shows it, in the way he respects me and my family, in the way I hear him butcher up some French but get it right when he thinks I'm not watching. Because he fought for it, where you left."

He looked at you then. Really looked. And for the first time in years, you let it show. Everything. And he saw it. The lack of love in your eyes. The emptiness where his reflection used to live. “Per favore, non sposarlo…” ("Please don’t marry him…") Your eyes burned. But your heart didn’t move.

It didn’t ache. It didn’t crack. It just… stood still.

“I’m not walking away from anything, Jannik,” you said gently. “You did. And now I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.”

He looked at you like the sky had fallen. “I don’t hate you,” you added. “But I also don’t love you anymore.” He looked at you then. Really looked. And for the first time in years, you let it show. Everything. And he saw it. The lack of love in your eyes. The emptiness where his reflection used to live. It hit him like a gut punch.

And before he could speak again, you whispered, low and cutting: “If you have even an ounce of respect for what we once shared… don’t come to the wedding.”

The silence between you stretched, cold and final.

Then, just like that—

“Ah, voilà!”

Carlos’s voice rang out as he stepped onto the balcony, beaming. He held a glass of champagne in one hand, the other slipping naturally around your waist.

“There you are, mi amor. I thought you had vanished.”

His eyes found Jannik and lit up. “Hey! Good to see you, man. Do you guys know each other ? ” Jannik forced a tight smile. “Yeah… you too. Um...” Jannik glanced at you and you took it where he ended. "We met long ago, in Spain, my father was the responsible physio of the camps." Your fiancé nodded, surprised but satisfied with the answer. "Oh, ok. Well I appologize for interupting the reunion but I have to steal her."

Carlos turned to you, dropping to French as he kissed your temple. “Viens, chérie, je viens te chercher pour les toasts. Tout le monde t'attend, mon amour.” (“Come on, darling, I'll get you for toast. Everyone's waiting for you, my love.”), he said slowly with that spanish accent that made it all warmer.

You nodded, lips twitching into something that resembled a smile — tight, composed. You looked back at Jannik one last time. Your eyes softened, not with pity, not with love — but with goodbye.

“Have a good night,” you said simply.

And with that, you slipped back into the warmth of the party, Carlos guiding you gently, the future pulling you forward.

And Jannik? He stood alone on that balcony. The city lights didn’t feel romantic anymore. Just distant.

Game. Set. Match.

And this time, he knew it was truly over. You would always be the one that slipped through his fingers like the sand of a sandcastle that didn't resist the sun. Beautiful and tragic. His most beautiful tragedy.

#jannik sinner #jannik sinner x reader #angst #jannik sinner imagine #jannik sinner x yn #jannik sinner x you #tennis imagine #carlos alcaraz x reader

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kpopgirliez · 1 day ago

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Trending…?

AN: As promised, a fic of the HUNTRX and Saja Boys seeing the fan art. This is my first story published on Tumblr, so be kind. Requests are open

HUNTRX sat back stage, waiting for their turn to perform for the VMAs, Rumi adjusting her braid, Mira hitting the punching bag, while Zoey scrolled on her phone. “I HATE ABS.” Mira fumed, punching harder, while the other girls stayed silent. Zoey’s giggle cut through the silent, and the others looked at her with mild confusion. “What’s so funny?” Rumi asked, head tilted with confusion. Zoey kept laughing, unresponsive, before turning the phone to them. “Our fans are so creative.” She said with another laugh, showing them the Miromabby fan art. Mira scoffed, walking over to inspect it with an irritated look. “I’m gonna smash their fucking faces in.” She growled, and Zoey brought her phone back. “That’s exactly how they were looking at you.” She giggled, zooming in on the boy’s love struck expression, and Rumi walked over, sitting next to Zoey and inspecting the art. “Miro-mabby?” Rumi said slowly, reading the tag. “Honestly, I can picture it.” The purple haired girl grinned, as Zoey scrolled through more Miromabby art. “They did Romance dirty with that hair…” Zoey giggled, and Mira finally sat next to them, leaning on Zoey’s shoulder to look. “Even in the fan art Abby still looks like a total idiot.” She said, chuckling lightly, and Zoey grinned victoriously. “Oh Rumi! Look, there’s some for you and Jinu!” Mira teased, and Rumi looked away blushing. “Rujinu… You were playing footsies with the enemy?” Zoey questioned, laughing. Juno poked his head in through the door, followed by the rest of the Saja Boys, all peeking in like something out of a movie. “I heard you say my name.” Jinu said, before walking in confidently, sitting next to Rumi. The other Saja Boys followed, with Abby helping Romance stand. “Fan art?” Baby asked judgementally, popping his lollipop out of his mouth just long enough to speak. “Look!” Zoey said enthusiastically, unbothered by the demons surrounding her, as she scrolled back up to show him some Miromabby. “Wow. Abby, look. You’ve been exposed.” Baby said, straight-faced, as Abby looked at the art before sitting next to Mira. “Wow, those fans really see everything.” He said, confidence coming off of him in waves as he put his arm over Mira’s shoulder, ignoring the way she leaned away. “Come on Mira, the fans are always right.” Romance said with a smile, sitting on the floor, leaning on Abby’s legs while he gazed at the pink haired girl. “It’s not just me.” Mira complained, scrolling to the Rujinu art. Both Rumi and Jinu blushed, looking anywhere but the screen, and the others burst out laughing. Rumi, still not looking at the screen, reached over and scrolled away from the art, onto the next one. “Woah, Mystery, this one is us.” Zoey said, showing him, as he looked up from his place on the ground. Mystery stayed silent, but there was the faintest smile on his lips, before Zoey moved on, scrolling through the next. They stayed like that, sitting around teasing each other over with ship was trending the most, almost forgetting that they were enemies. “Hi girls! You’re on in- Oh, Saja Boys! Hi!” Bobby said happily, coming into the room, and HUNTRX smiled at him. “Hi Bobby!” The Saja Boys all nodded in acknowledgment, and Bobby continued. “Right, girls, you’re on in five minutes. Let’s do this thing!” The manager cheered, and the girls jumped up to go get ready.

#saja boys #kpop demon hunters #huntrix #miromabby #zoeystery #rujinu #shipping #request #bobby #mira #zoey #rumi #jinu #romance #baby #abby #mystery #kpdh #Fanfic #reqs open #cute #kpop

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not-so-innocent-bi-sander · 1 day ago

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Okay so.. here’s a thought I’m dealing with I guess.

I saw Thomas posted a video today about being part of people’s nostalgia, I haven’t really ever watched his videos on YouTube besides Sides stuff and his short little psuedo-vines.

But I kinda wanted to know what he had to say about it.

***TLDR- I got thinking about how I made so many friends via this fandom and the lack of content has really pushed everyone to move on, which is totally chill and just how being a fan works, but it also kinda bums me out?***

Anyway gonna ramble I guess

So I watched it to see if he’d mention Sides stuff at all, which he didn’t really. It was mostly about Vine. But i decided to see on his channel if he’s really mentioned Sides stuff any time recently.

I’m pretty sure the length of time between the most recent full episode and now is longer than the time between me joining the fandom and that most recent episode.

And he has some little stuff, songs and funny little skits or whatever. The incorrect quotes and the hear me out cakes, the YouTube Shorts.. I watched a couple of the incorrect quote videos and I genuinely laughed. I miss all that.

Basically all my closest friends that I have I met because of this fandom. And it just kinda bums me out that it all sorta fizzled out the way it did. I think like.. if a new episode dropped tomorrow, a lot of us would all watch it. But several people I know have probably moved on entirely, which I have no judgment about. It’s just kinda a fact of things. I don’t know where I’m going with this I just like.. it feels weird that I’m sorta on the other side of something that was such a huge part of my life and still affects my life to this day.

I still have writings and fics I want to finish, just because I want to finish them. I love writing these characters, and I don’t know if it’s because they’re just good frameworks or if it was just because it was my first fandom as an adult and I felt like I was better at writing than I had been before… or maybe it’s because I feel like my writing greatly improved because of how much I wrote them.

I know I’m not losing my friends just because we have different interests now, even though I think that was a concern for a long time. But I just don’t know what to do with this feeling.

I haven’t tried to write anything in so long even though I like doing it, and I don’t know if it’s because I feel like everyones moved on - and if I post something the only responses I’ll get are “I’m not into this anymore don’t tag me in it” even though not needing responses and just doing things I like because I like it has long been something I’ve wanted to be better at - or if some part of me doesn’t want to? I think it’s mental health and general exhaustion, but I don’t know. I think I’m gonna try.. maybe tomorrow I’ll try and just do a little something. See what happens. I don’t know

I still read my old fics sometimes, it’s been so long since I wrote themthat I forgot a lot of the details and it’s kinda like I found a fic written just for me. It’s not really about the source material anymore, I just like all these little guys I’ve been making up stories about for years and years.

It’s nearly midnight and I’m in bed just trying to get all this out on my phone. If you read all this, thank you. Sorry it didn’t go anywhere?? I don’t know I just.. that’s the stuff I’m trying to think on right now.

#sanders sides #Jordan said a thing

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verysillyguy-123 · 2 days ago

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Stobotnik/stipplenik community, I need your help

I have a bunch of ideas for fan arts/fics or whatever, and I need help figuring out which ones are the best

Au explanations under cut:

Mobian stone au – I have a few different ideas for this au, but I know I want to make it in the sonic boom universe. It'll most likely be team sonic being introduced to stone, who is a goat mobian and works for robotnik. Alternatively, it could be a fic based on @technically-human 's mobian stone fic, where eggman turns stone into a goat. I'll put another poll out if this one wins.

Model stone x tech CEO rob – this is probably the one I've put the most thought into, so I have a pretty good idea on what I want for the au. Basically it's just an au where stone is a model, and Ivo is a grumpy tech CEO and one of his fans. Their meeting takes a lot of inspiration from one of the aus by @knuckleheadsandtails where ivos cats keep going missing, and when he goes to the upper apartment to yell at the person to give him his cats back, it turns out to be stone.

Villain stone au – this one will most likely also be in the Sonic boom universe, but I haven't put too much thought into this au otherwise. It's really just between whether I want stone and eggman to be friends, lovers or enemies. (Maybe enemies AND lovers if I'm feeling whimsical) it's kind of a gamble whether or not I'm making it in the perspective of team sonic or eggman, but fuck it we ball.

Sonic x date everything au – I've started writing down some stuff about this au, but it's mostly just what characters would like who. This one is mostly for shits and giggles, and wouldn't really be an actual legitimate storyline, but more a study on how characters would interact with each other, because I think that would be funny.

Stobotnik x alien stage oneshot – this one treads into darker territory, to TW and CW for toxic relationships, blood and violence ig? Basically, it's a rewrite of that one scene from the new episode KARMA, but instead of Ivan and till, it's agent stone and robotnik. This one could be viewed as a character study of stone, and it'll focus on the way that stone gets the urge to hurt Ivo (and in this one he will!)

Agent stone character study – another character study! Yay! And another one that's in the sonic boom universe. This is also one that I've put a lot of thought into. It'll be from Sonics perspective, after getting a bit jealous (?) of the fact that eggmans not fighting him as much as before after agent stone started working for him. It'll basically be Sonic following stone around all day to see what he's doing all the time

Wade x Stone x Rob (healthy & unhealthy versions) – the least thought out ones, the only difference between the two is that in the unhealthy one rob is dead, and stone dates Wade to cope with his death. Very one-sided and miserable.

School kids/orphanage au – it's very straightforward, Stone and Ivo meeting either in the orphanage, or at primary school and becoming friends. There are angst opportunities when it comes to Ivo and stone potentially being bullied, but it'll be pretty fluffy otherwise, with them slowly falling in love.

Casino owner x mafia boss au – if it wasn't clear already, Stone would be the casino owner and Ivo the mafia boss. This is the only one that I've already started making fanart for, but I'm still at the starting stage of its creation. Long story short, it'll be the robotnik family being murder-y and evil, and team sonic trying to stop it. The mobians could be human in this? But that's for me to decide later.

Basically any of these AU's can be used if you want, just please tag me if you use any of them 🙏

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sk1fanfiction · 1 day ago

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ch. 12 rev — writing this before i read the newest chapter !

'Ted hadn't been the sort of person who died. He'd been solid and dependable; he was a Healer. How would he have even gotten killed?'

— oh honey, everyone dies, healers too... especially if they were hit with the killing curse.

"They already have,"

— harry, you were meant to keep that a secret !! i'm glad he spilled though, hopefully sirius informs dumbledore about this

'Sirius's eyebrows knit together, his mouth pressing into a hard line. The expression made Harry distinctly uncomfortable. Something itched at the back of his brain, but he couldn't quite place it.'

— well you see henry, you're being scolded. sort of like how parents scold their children when they do something stupid? it's called parenting !

'Sirius regarded him for a long time. It was like he was seeing Harry through different eyes; almost like the first time he had looked at Harry properly, in the Great Hall after the Siege had ended, and said his father's name instead of his.'

— he's getting flashbacks !! this is so like the marauders (james = harry, ruby = sirius, parvati = peter, lavender = lupin) and he is 100% seeing james in him which must be super painful...

'He would let himself enjoy this, whatever time he had left, before the shadow started chewing at his bones again, eating him alive from the inside out.'

— that is so what the half-blood prince felt like, the calm before the storm and their last chance at being teenagers

'he was glad they had started acting normally around each other again; otherwise, Potions would be even more unbearable.'

— harry being the unwilling third party in so many fights is just hilarious, we love awkward harry who just wants people to shut up and get on with it/make up.

'Hephaestus looked a little disappointed at the disappearance of his prey, and yowled when Harry picked him up to hand him off to Ruby.'

— harry and hephaestus, my favourite duo btw.

'Fang's massive tongue seemingly had attached itself to Ron's face, his tag wagging. It was only when he felt his greeting was satisfactory that Ron was able to stumble his way inside, disgustedly wiping dog saliva off his face before falling into an armchair.'

— okay yuck ! the way i would never step foot in hagrid's hut bc i hate it when dogs slobber so bad (i am also scared of dogs)

'and while she implores the International Confederation of Wizards to step in, she is also prepared to begin the process of an internal investigation.'

— amelia is so badass !! i really love the women in this fic in case you couldn't tell.

'He hadn't been 'only a student' to Barty Crouch, or Pettigrew, or Voldemort.'

— poor harry, he needs compensation asap !

'He thought of the Ministry's 'Redacted' and then he thought of Snape.'

— i'm so curious about both of the traitors

'Not wanting to worry her, or worse, explain, Harry made another mechanical smile.'

— no, talk to someone !! at least your twin, she's quite literally your partner in crime since birth

'Whichever it was, at least Parvati didn't seem to mind.'

— these lesbians, so obvious.

"He's probably got his own… stuff to deal with," said Ruby.' could they not technically just stick lavender and lupin together and have them entertain each other during the full moon? 'Harry could only wonder why Lupin himself wasn't here. He was obviously… experienced. But on the other hand, explaining the presence of two wolves with human-like behaviour was harder than explaining one.'

— i'm wondering too bc you could send them to the shrieking shack, that should still be up right?

"I don't sneak,"

— he's so funny, you're not fooling anyone

"It would be great if there was some way to track all the prefects,"

— omg did fred and george not give harry the marauders map in this?

'a wolf had appeared next to Parvati and was galloping towards the open door.'

— so loyal, they're totally girlfriends.

'Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott were an odd-looking pair'

— FUCK YES, NOTT'S HERE AND HE'S GETTING PUNCHED !!!!!

"I'm here to take you two to Professor Snape's office for harbouring a dangerous werewolf."

— these damn slytherin's and their nosiness when it comes to exposing werewolves...

'As a matter of fact, how did Malfoy and Nott suspect Lavender?'

— they obviously let him onto the school grounds somehow (idk if draco was still dealing with the vanishing cabinet or whatever)

'Maybe someone had been looking from one of the top floors down at the west gates that night.'

— someone did indeed !

'Big deal. He doesn't even have Mordred to back him up this time.'

— period ! you've faced worse, harry.

'he saw Ruby and Malfoy; he knew she was competent, from the Defence and Duelling Club, but he'd never seen her fight with such intensity.'

— badass ruby, we love to see it.

'If all you did was scheme to save your skin, you'd end up like Pettigrew.'

— comparing nott to pettigrew... deserved actually, he's so weaselly.

"Takes one to know—"

— this is why you get your shit rocked, theodore.

'Harry only felt his blood run hot. He didn't think, didn't remember throwing the punch, but his fist had shot out and connected with the soft cartilage of Nott's nose, a satisfying snap below the blow. He drew his hand back, stinging slightly, and realised why Dudley always went for the nose as Nott crumpled in pain, his eyes tearing, cupping his hand over it and howling like a kicked dog. Harry was barely aware of the commotion behind him; Malfoy had ended up bound with ropes and squirming around on the floor like a seal, eyes bulging with fury.'

— this entire paragraph is so satisfying and cathartic, they had this coming for a whileee now.

'A loop of rope had pulled up and over his mouth, too, in a particularly petty stroke — though Harry couldn't honestly say he wouldn't have done it.'

— muzzle that bitch fr !! go ruby !

'poking Malfoy's cheek with her wand, who made a sound between a growl and a hiss.'

— this makes for a very comedic scene btw

'His head snapped up to meet that familiar, hated silhouette. Riddle.' — poor riddle... (this is too funny) 'He must've heard the commotion and come to investigate. How much had he heard?'

— well, he knows everything. i wouldn't put it past him to have been watching the entire time tbh. he's probably proud of the potter twins for their duel as well.

'If he knew it was an attempt to get him to move on, Riddle simply chose not to get the hint.'

— tom and taking the hint:

'blowing his hair against his face, robes snapping in the breeze.'

— okay model 🙄

"Cleanup is the most important part of the job."

— how to get away with murder by tom riddle. he'd be a great author.

'which Harry was sure was unnecessary'

— oh honey... it's absolutely necessary for his drama queen ass.

'he realised that Riddle was actually trying to make this into an Occlumency lesson.' — is this not comedic excellency? "You should watch."

— like come on now... this is just pure gold. he's such a great teacher, i take back everything 😭

'It was surprisingly warm.'

— big fan of the warm tom agenda, it makes him feel human which is something he did NOT think he was.

'He looked quite pleased with himself.'

— ethics and morality aside, this is HIGHLY impressive. you just watched him successfully intercept someones mind despite the protection and he extracted memories without harming their minds AND gave them false ones which made sense... give credit where credit is due.

'Harry only wondered how anyone could be expected to feel safe with him around.'

— tbf i don't think you're meant to...

"What was her name?"

— he already knows it, he needs to stop annoying them 😒

'As they left, Harry heard him call, in an insulted tone: "You're welcome!"'

— kids these days, so ungrateful ! (tom, the hag)

'The thing that had come to define him after the death of Tom Riddle, a pencilled letter scratched into a cheap book by an eleven-year-old boy, a simple and ordinary thing. How grand it looked now!'

— just wow honestly, you're such an amazing writer. you seamlessly connecting the 6 books together and keeping everything on track is just amazing.

'He hefted the silver ouroboros ring cupped in his hand, which he'd slipped off the finger of Harry Potter.'

— I KNEW IT ! he touched harry's hand on purpose, he easily could've shaken him by the shoulder or the arm but the hand touching was so intentional. PICKPOCKET !! hilarious how he's stolen this ring twice tho

'He murmured the words aloud, for, after all, it was a children's bedtime story.'

— petition to get tom to read bedtime stories in his soft tenor say "I" 🗣️

'Tee was not looking for moral guidance.'

— maybe you should...

'Tears formed in his eyes. Who was he, a wizard of rare and terrifying skill, to be frightened by fairytales and tea leaves, hoarding his father's clutter under his bed and his mother's locket, stolen back from Theodore Nott, in the back of his drawer?'

— i audibly awed, he's so... he probably needs a hug 😞

'no one was listening out for him, in this world or the next. He had not even cried for his mother when he was born, because he knew she wasn't going to answer.'

— baby tom... head in hands 💔

'he saw not the ouroboros ring, but something more like an ancient signet. It had a gold band, set with not a precious jewel, but a misshapen black stone. And as he tilted the stone into the light, wondering at the ring's transformation, he saw it: carved deep into the stone, unmistakably, was the symbol of the Deathly Hallows.'

— WAIT WHAT?? i thought the ouroborus was a different ring to the gaunt ring? is that why the parseltongue work?? cass, explain !!!

amazing chapter btw. 10/10, you've outdone yourself once again (harry with the girls, theo getting punched, malfoy being practically bound and gagged, tom appearance and insight... chef's kiss!). very excited for the next chapter with the parental issues and grandfather and grandson bonding time !!

well you see henry, you're being scolded. sort of like how parents scold their children when they do something stupid? it's called parenting !

He isn't properly socialised, I'm afraid

he's getting flashbacks !! this is so like the marauders (james = harry, ruby = sirius, parvati = peter, lavender = lupin) and he is 100% seeing james in him which must be super painful...

Mmmm the way I didn't consciously think of those parallels. I love your brain btw

harry being the unwilling third party in so many fights is just hilarious, we love awkward harry who just wants people to shut up and get on with it/make up.

Struggles of being an introvert :(

Also a super versatile trope, you could stick him with any two characters, and it works.

okay yuck ! the way i would never step foot in hagrid's hut bc i hate it when dogs slobber so bad (i am also scared of dogs)

I don't mind most dogs but the minute that tongue comes out I am like PUT THAT THING AWAY RIGHT NOW

no, talk to someone !! at least your twin, she's quite literally your partner in crime since birth

Harry + Talking About Feelings: Not his strength, I'm afraid

i'm wondering too bc you could send them to the shrieking shack, that should still be up right?

You're right about this being fishy... I'll explain later...

omg did fred and george not give harry the marauders map in this?

Nope! I skipped a lot of the Stations of Canon (Triwizard Tournament, Department of Mysteries fight, etc) so there wasn't a natural time for it to happen.

so loyal, they're totally girlfriends.

They totally are 🩷

Reading this back now, I'm wondering if 'galloping' was really a good way to describe how a wolf runs. Oh well.

they obviously let him onto the school grounds somehow (idk if draco was still dealing with the vanishing cabinet or whatever)

👀

comparing nott to pettigrew... deserved actually, he's so weaselly.

Worst insult actually, there are sooo many shitty people to choose from in HP but Pettigrew has zero aura

this entire paragraph is so satisfying and cathartic, they had this coming for a whileee now.

🎶He had it coming! He had it coming! He only had himself to blame, and if you'd been there! If you'd've seen it! I betcha you would have done the same!🎶

well, he knows everything. i wouldn't put it past him to have been watching the entire time tbh. he's probably proud of the potter twins for their duel as well.

Standing there like 'Damn, why did nothing this interesting happen while I was in school.' They're just free entertainment for him atp.

how to get away with murder by tom riddle. he'd be a great author.

A bestseller, in fact, and he assures you it's all completely hypothetical.

oh honey... it's absolutely necessary for his drama queen ass.

This is, after all, the man who made sentimental/special objects into his Horcruxes and 'hid them' in very obvious places, for the aesthetic.

like come on now... this is just pure gold. he's such a great teacher, i take back everything 😭

Nothing like hands-on learning! But I promise you're going to take back your takeback when Chapter 14 gets posted lol

big fan of the warm tom agenda, it makes him feel human which is something he did NOT think he was.

Tom when he discovers he is a mammal and not a snake 😧

ethics and morality aside, this is HIGHLY impressive. you just watched him successfully intercept someones mind despite the protection and he extracted memories without harming their minds AND gave them false ones which made sense... give credit where credit is due.

Harry Potter, the original hater, chugging his Haterade... Seriously though, Tom/Voldemort's natural talent for psychological violence is underexplored (I keep forgetting about it sometimes). Lockhart could never.

he already knows it, he needs to stop annoying them 😒

Don't overestimate him, you know his track record with names...

kids these days, so ungrateful ! (tom, the hag)

He 100% has muttered this under his breath

tom and taking the hint:

The hint butterfly is flying around his head, trying to get his attention and he's just steadfastly ignoring it.

just wow honestly, you're such an amazing writer. you seamlessly connecting the 6 books together and keeping everything on track is just amazing.

Thank you 💚💚💚💚💚

Trust it is a Mess behind the scenes, my little random notes/planning documents look like that meme from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia

I KNEW IT ! he touched harry's hand on purpose, he easily could've shaken him by the shoulder or the arm but the hand touching was so intentional. PICKPOCKET !! hilarious how he's stolen this ring twice tho

I imagine he liked to watch street magicians as a kid before he found out he was doing real magic and learnt some of the tricks of the trade, like misdirection. You can take the boy out of the diary but not take the petty crime out of him...

petition to get tom to read bedtime stories in his soft tenor say "I" 🗣️

Aye! I also love that he canonically has a higher-pitched voice, it makes him stand out from other characters (and makes the 'innocent' act more believable, of course).

WAIT WHAT?? i thought the ouroborus was a different ring to the gaunt ring? is that why the parseltongue work?? cass, explain !!!

They've always been the same ring (I left Chekhov's Gun sitting on the proverbial shelf since way back in Chapter 9, but I did shoot it). It's also not a Horcrux (that might already be evident). Way back in Book 2, Hermione came up with this conspiracy theory that they are the same ring, as the Gaunt ring disappears with Tom's ancestor, Corvinus Gaunt, the same time the ouroboros ring appears in the hands of his mistress, Aretaphila Selwyn, which is then passed down through the Selwyns (and then unwittingly stolen back by kid!Riddle). The ouroboros is a symbol of resurrection (and death). Like the Invisibility Cloak, it was enchanted by Death, so the charm(s) on it are eternal. Voldemort wore his family heirloom for decades until, not knowing what it was, he gave it to Harry to help win his trust.

#asks #mimi #<3

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mullermilkshake · 2 days ago

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One text to ruin everything

Part 7 <- Part 8 -> Part 9

Satoru takes the bait.

Sperm donor!Satoru Gojo x New mom!reader x Husband!Suguru Geto Tags - Fluff, Angst, Yandere! behaviour, Arguments, Manipulation, Gaslighting

<<< For more Satoru content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or this fics Master list >>>

<<< Mood board >>>

Title font - 1001fonts.com

The morning started off as any usual day.

Suguru ventured downstairs to make coffee, the distant clicking and water running became white noise in Sakura’s routine while you dressed her and yourself.

“Oh, don’t you just look the cutest today?”

She kicked her legs out a little, entirely awake and starting to stir for her morning feed. Sakura cooed, pouting her lips out when she wasn’t smacking them together.

“Now, I was saving this outfit for a special occasion, but I think today is as good as any to look absolutely adorable in, so try no to get milk down it, okay?”

Sakura made a few choice noises at you, blue eyes wide and focused on a spot on your face. You shimmied on the little pants to cover her diaper under the little summer dress, and pulled a few funny faces at her.

“Blughhh… eeeeeh… oooooh… mama, mama, mama…”

Your daughter managed a quick ‘O’ with her lips and carried on kicking with her little socks on. She had her pink bunny on hand and matching pacifier, ready to start the morning with a bottle with her daddy.

She’s so cute.

“There’s my girls.” Suguru was pouring coffee when you came down with Sakura.

“Morning daddy, we have a very special outfit today. Someone is full of beans.”

When he took the baby from you and kissed the top of her head. “Oh? That’s good, and that is a very pretty dress- ah, you smell so good all the time.”

“Doesn't she?” You said, sitting yourself down on the bar stool. “I could smell her literally all day.”

“She’s just perfect. You both are perfect. My perfect girls.” Suguru sat down too, picking up the prepared bottle of milk for Sakura, and pushed a coffee cup across the kitchen island to you. “Breakfast for Sakura, and a decaf for mommy.”

“Lovely.”

You took it with a small smile, sipping what you could from the hot rim of the cup, fiddling with your phone, playing around with the wording of the text message you were preparing to send to Satoru.

Something to lure him, to set him off in the right way.

Suguru placed the bottle teat to Sakura’s lips and waited for her to take it. She was incredibly finicky when she wasn’t breast feeding, often preferring shallower teats to the other ergonomic ones.

You and Suguru sat in a comfortable silence, soaking in the sun through the windows. Just quiet, just… existing.

“Fancy pancakes this morning? I did plan on making you something in bed, but this little one decided to be up at five and never slept again.”

“Ooh, pancakes sound great.”

“Maybe she’d enjoy the carrier? Could make doing the house chores easier, maybe even when I work from home, I can type still while she’s on me. She’ll still be small enough for the carrier in a few months, right?”

“Yeah she’ll still be small enough, I doubt she’ll outgrow it for a while. Maybe getting the laundry done could be easier with her strapped to me, the grocery shopping too.”

Suguru hummed and watched his daughter with an adoring gaze. “We should try it out sometime, they look comfy.”

“My mom bought one, it's at her place, we can give it a try when I go round at the weekend.”

He smiled, adjusting the baby’s head in the crook of his elbow. “I’d like that, maybe give a few chores around the house, see how versatile it is. I have to pay my way over there somehow.”

Your mom loved Suguru like her own child. “I think she’d probably make me do it instead of you, Mr. Golden child.”

“Hey, I can’t help it if your mom has a soft spot for me. I guess it pays to be nice, hm?”

“I’m always nice.” You scoffed. “You just go the extra mile to get in the popular club with my mother.”

Suguru’s smile tickled the butterflies in your stomach while you drank your coffee. “I can’t help it if my own mom keeps everyone at arm's length.”

“Your mother is a busy body.”

“Yeah… she kind of is, right?” He chuckled, placing the bottle down to wind the baby. “I’m sorry how she is sometimes.”

A sigh from your throat filled the room, placating the looming emptiness when you sent that text message. “No, she’s fine. She just gets in her head sometimes. I know she gets lonely.”

“She’ll be alright. Once this is all finished and done with, we’ll all sit down and talk about boundaries again. I know they can get lost on her sometimes.”

Boundaries, now that was a funny word.

Satoru didn’t know boundaries either. He’d messaged you three times already since this morning, one missed call. Obviously silence was lost on him.

“Yeah…”

“It’s alright, honey. I’ll get the pancakes on, you text him when you’re ready.” Suguru reached across the counter top to you. “Let’s do what we have to do.”

You nodded, still fiddling with your phone and sipping your coffee like it was the last one you’d ever have. “Alright.”

“Just try to take a breath. It’ll be okay.”

Stopping the shaking of your fingers on the keyboard linked to Satoru’s number refused to work. Each letter was a prison sentence, a destined path you never thought you’d step down.

You: It’s over. We’re getting a divorce. Suguru’s moving out. Stop calling me.

And like magic, the calls and messages stopped. It took Satoru a whole twenty three minutes to reach the house from wherever he was.

Suguru managed to make a few pancakes and gave Sakura the biggest cuddle and lots of kisses in that time like some fictional superhero. He clocked onto Satoru’s car through the window before you did, coaxing you to stand from the way you anxiously sat hunched over at the counter.

“Now, this could get ugly. Anything I might say, I don’t mean, please remember that.”

“I know.” It still hurt though.

He pulled you close and kissed you quick, meaningfully. You told yourself it wasn't the last time, it wasn’t the final time you’d relax to the cologne in the crook of his neck and seek comfort to the soft palms of his hands, and hearing his delicate words that soothed you in the shower and when he thought you were asleep.

No more smells. Familiar sounds. No lingering gazes and utterly enamoured touches. Being limited to once a week, pulled the loneliness you had stored away right onto your sleeve.

“I love you, Suguru. So much.”

“And I love you, more than you’ll ever know. You and Sakura are my life, my world. My girls.”

Satoru used your loneliness, he picked up on it immediately once the door knocked and you reluctantly opened it after Suguru disappeared into the kitchen.

“Hey, you alright? He’s actually doing it?”

You brushed away Satoru’s grin at his cheeks and hand from your shoulder. He stood there, hands in his pockets not paying a care to your reaction.

“Where’s Sakura? I wanna see my girl.”

“I said stop calling me, not to come over.” You pushed on his chest towards the door, he didn’t move an inch in the direction. “Why did you come over?”

Satoru came over to rub it in Suguru’s face. All part of the bait and the plan to lure him in a direction you and he wanted.

“What do you mean?” He shrugged, looking at you properly. “To support you, you’re getting divorced. Just because I love you and want to be with you doesn’t mean that I misunderstand how difficult this will be for you.” Then, he caressed your cheek. “I’m here for you.”

You pulled away immediately. “I didn’t want help, I wanted to be left alone to mend things with my husband that you broke.”

“C’mon, you and I both know that I never broke anything.” Satoru moved his head in the direction of the kitchen and whispered the rest. “It was Suguru’s lack of trust, he so easily believed it, that is what ended this relationship.”

“No it wasn’t.”

Suguru stood in the kitchen holding the baby, shushing her and swaying from side to side. He whispered how much he loved her in her ear, explaining that he had to go away for a while and that he’d always be there.

Your heart exploded, your eyes welling up as he handed her to you, not saying one word.

“S-Suguru… please- we can work this out, I can’t-“

“No, we can’t. It’s better for all of us involved if this ends.” He didn’t even look at you.

“it doesn’t have to end, we can work through it.”

Suguru huffed, shaking his have disapprovingly. “I wanted to work things out but I… I just can’t.”

“Suguru-“

“If you need anything, you can go through my attorney.”

Satoru leant against the wall by the front door, hands in his pockets like he was waiting for the bus. “She won’t need anything, I’ll make sure they’re taken care of-“

“Will you stop?” Your reaction with Suguru might have been fake, but your erratic breathing wasn’t. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Satoru pushed off from the wall andstood between you and Suguru, folded arms and a pissed off expression. “It does when it concerns my daughter. So no, I won’t stop.”

Suguru picked up his overnight bag at the door, shrugging it on his shoulder. “You can both argue over everything in the open now, I’m done… I’m so done.”

“Arw, c’mon Suguru, it’s not like we planned this. Give us a little class, hm?”

Stunned. Utter silence.

Suguru sighed, it was long and weary. “Fuck you, Satoru.” And then he left.

You stood there, Sakura sleepy and milk drunk in your arms. Satoru stood there too, eyes wider than you’d seen before, mouth open for a second like the talkative idiot was actually speechless.

“Yeah… fuck you, Satoru.” You left too, stomping up the stairs to lay Sakura down so you could sleep.

Though, you didn’t even get to shut the door behind you before Satoru was pushing it open with a glare. “Fuck me? I know you didn’t just say that to me right now.”

“I did.” You nodded eagerly, stepping over to the crib to lay the baby down. “I did say that. You just ruined my marriage and you don’t even feel any remorse for it. If you showed any emotion besides pride and smugness, then I might want to argue with you, But I don’t even want to do that. I never asked you over here and I want you to leave.”

Satoru ran his hands through his hair and tugged at the roots. “I did this for us! Now we can start our family like we should have in the beginning- I need you to give me a chance and shutting me out like this isn’t what people do emotionally. You’re giving me whiplash.”

“Whiplash?” You actually laughed at that. “You’re giving me whiplash. So you’ve had a thing for me for who-really-knows how long, and all of a sudden I’m an object to be won? Yes, my baby is related to you biologically, but she’s mine. Not yours, not anyone else’s. She’s mine. I can’t handle this whole act you have for using her as a tool, you’re here for her, not me.”

Despite your racing heart, you fronted Satoru up right to his chest, looking up at him with the most intimidating look you had on hand. “Don’t ever think you have a right to her just because you came in a cup and allowed a doctor to shove it between my legs. You’re not special, and you’re not the main character here. My daughter is. She always will be…”

You hesitated mentioning the next part, but it was the most crucial.

“I’ve lost the love of my life because of you, and I need some time on my own so I can come to terms with this before we go any further.”

To make him think that he had a chance.

Satoru smiled, looking down at you with that all knowing attractive half smile that seemed to make girls go crazy over him. “I’ve never seen this side of you before… So you're willing to give us a go?”

That’s all he took out of it?

Of course, give the man an inch and he’d take more than a mile.

“Just give me some room, Satoru.” You let your bottom lip quiver and tremble along with more silent tears. “I’m really vulnerable and I need time to lick my wounds before I suffocate.”

He wiped the wet from your cheeks with his index finger, sweeping hair from your face. “I can give you a little space, but I still want to see my daughter. Deal?”

Perfect. Right where you wanted him.

“A-Alright. But not today, later.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Okay.”

“See ya then.”

Satoru pecked your cheek and blew a kiss to Sakura before leaving with an almighty grin on his face, bopping down the stairs with a whistle and cocky jump in his step.

Too bad the man was taking the breadcrumbs suguru had scattered like a rat infested pigeon. You only hoped he’d continue it and not catch on to what you and Suguru were planning.

Part 7 <- Part 8 -> Part 9

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know! 🤗

Tag list - @ryomenslvr @ilovebattinson @ilyannailyanna @charlenexoxo1 @satorupied

@nommingonfood @tweekdoescosplay @gojojjknanami @kiwikeeahwah @ryannae-luuvv

@merceriee @dyavorange @tweekdoescosplay @yesdere @qardasngan

@bubera974 @yourlocalcatscammer @livelaughlovekuni @sugurunugget @cisseadven

@universal-s1ut @thenightperson

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work thank you!

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strangesthirdeye · 2 days ago

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Pretty Boy Problems (Arthur Morgan x male!reader)

Summary: O'Driscoll eh? interesting Warning: This one slightly long.. i guess..welp! every fics i wrote always long btw

based on this request, tq!

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first time Arthur laid eyes on you, you were tied to a tree, smirking like you owned the damn place.

Ann O'Driscoll. Caught snooping around the edge of Clemens Point.

Charles had dragged you in, bloodied but grinning. Dutch had called it "a potential opportunity." Hosea just sighed.

And Arthur?

Arthur crossed his arms, spat in the dirt, and scowled like he was staring down the devil himself.

"Well, look what crawled out of the swamp," he muttered. "Another snake."

You tilted your head and gave him that same cocky grin you wore like a badge. "Funny, cowboy. You look like you wanna kiss me or kill me."

Arthur's brows twitched. "Ain't ruled out both."

They kept you tied up for the first few days. Chained near the horses, fed like a stray dog, watched like a hawk.

You didn't seem to mind.

Every time Arthur passed by, you had something to say.

"Don't walk away, sweetheart. I miss you already."

"Y'know, if you're gonna keep starin', you could at least buy me a drink first."

"Is that your 'I hate how hot you are' face again?"

Arthur threatened to break your nose twice, and you only laughed harder each time.

You weren't just an O'Driscoll — you were a pretty O'Driscoll. That made it worse.

Too clean-cut. Too smooth-talking. And too good at getting under Arthur's skin.

But slowly, things shifted.

You earned a few freedoms. Started chopping wood, helping with chores, sleeping unchained — though Arthur still watched you like you might set the camp on fire with a wink.

One night, as you helped Charles patch a tent, Arthur muttered under his breath, "Still don't trust him."

Charles didn't even look up. "That's because you like him."

Arthur froze. "The hell I do."

Charles gave him a look. "You think I don't notice the way you stare?"

Arthur scowled, but said nothing.

Because maybe he had been staring. Maybe a little too long when you laughed with Javier. Maybe too hard when you bent over the campfire or stripped off your shirt in the summer heat.

Maybe it wasn't just suspicion anymore.

That night, Arthur found you alone by the lake, skipping stones.

You glanced over your shoulder. "Well, well. If it ain't the grumpiest man alive."

"Just needed quiet," Arthur grunted.

You smirked. "Funny. I could've sworn you came to see me."

He didn't answer. Just stood beside you and picked up a rock of his own.

"You ever think," you said, voice quieter now, "that not everyone born an O'Driscoll wanted to be one?"

Arthur's hand paused mid-throw.

You didn't look at him.

"Colm raised boys to fight, not to think. Some of us figured it out too late."

Arthur studied your face in the moonlight — all that easy charm faded now, replaced by something sharper. Sader. Real.

"...Are you serious?" he asked.

You nodded once. "I ain't him. Never wanted to be."

Silence hung between you.

Then Arthur exhaled, low and slow, and sat down beside you.

"...Still think you talk too much."

You grinned. "That's just 'cause you like my voice."

He rolled his eyes.

But didn't walk away.

And maybe — just maybe — that was the beginning of something neither of you could name yet.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Dutch sent a crew to intercept a Lemoyne weapons shipment. You weren't supposed to be involved — "still not enough trust," they said.

But you tagged along anyway. Uninvited. No weapons, just a knife in your boot and that reckless grin Arthur hated more and more each day... mostly because he was starting to like it.

"Why the hell are you here?" Arthur growled as you snuck up beside his horse in the trees.

You winked. "I missed you."

"You got a death wish?"

"Maybe I just like watchin' your ass from this angle."

He cursed under his breath.

But Dutch waved it off. "If he wants to prove himself, let him. He dies, it ain't on us."

You just smiled. Like death didn't scare you.

Arthur hated that, too.

The ambush went sideways.

Of course it did.

Someone tipped off the Lemoyne boys — probably a bounty hunter sniffing around. Shots rang out before the wagon even made it to the clearing.

Arthur ducked behind a stump, smoking rifle. “Goddammit!”

You were ahead of him — too far, too exposed — and then he heard it.

Yell.

Your yell.

When he looked up, you were bleeding, staggering behind a crate, gripping your side.

“Y/n!” he barked.

"I'm fine," you gasped, lying like a bastard.

You weren't fine.

And Arthur's chest burned hotter than the bullet wound you'd taken.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was you and him, alone now — everyone else had scattered or doubled back. The moon rose over the swamp as Arthur stitched you up by the fire, grumbling the whole time.

"This is what I was talking about," he muttered, jabbing the needle a bit harder than necessary. "Rushin' in, thinkin' you're invincible."

You hissed through your teeth. "You worried about me, Morgan?"

"I'm worried about being the idiot who has to drag your dead body home."

"Oh?" you grinned weakly. "So you do care."

Arthur didn't respond. Just kept stitching. Jaw clenched. Eyes hard.

But his hands were gentle.

You watched him in the firelight — his brow furrowed in concentration, the way his lips pressed into a thin line, the way his lashes caught the glow.

"You're prettier when you're not scowlin'," you said softly.

He looked up, ready to bark back.

But stopped.

Something in your voice had shifted — something quieter. Something tired.

Something real.

"...You ever stop running your mouth?" he muttered, but it came out low, rough.

You smiled. "Only when I'm listenin' for your heartbeat."

Arthur rolled his eyes.

But he didn't pull away when your hand found his.

That night, You dozed near the fire, shirt off, bandaged up, mouth slightly open. Arthur sat beside you, arms crossed, still too tense to sleep.

He told himself he was just keeping watch.

But when your head slumped against his shoulder... he didn't move.

Not for a long time.

The next morning, Arthur hauled you off his horse and down into the clearing. You were groggy, limping, sore as hell, but upright.

The others gave curious looks — Sadie raised an eyebrow, Javier grinned knowingly.

"You drag him back, huh?" Dutch asked.

Arthur didn't look up. "He ain't dead."

You leaned against Arthur, still swaying slightly, and said, "He missed me."

Arthur shot you a glare.

You winked.

Dutch gave a satisfied nod. "Maybe we've got ourselves another fool after all."

Arthur scowled, turning to go — but not before you caught it.

That little smirk.

Barely there.

But real.

That night, you found him sitting on the dock, looking out over the water.

You sat beside him, shoulder brushing his.

"You're a damn idiot," Arthur muttered.

"Mm. But I'm your idiot now?"

He sighed, long and low.

“…Guess so.”

You grinned.

And this time, when you leaned in and kissed him — slow, careful, real — he didn't pull away.

He kissed you back.

Like he'd been waiting until all this time.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x male reader #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 x male reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 #rdr2 community #rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption 2 x reader #Spotify #arthur morgan x you

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definitelynotshouting · 1 year ago

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all the words that i forgot to say | (a hunger au oneshot)

Summary:

Grian's wings rustle and shift behind him as he speaks; a soft, raspy susurrus of flexing feathers. Ruffle, smooth back out. Ruffle again; calami rising, spearing scarlet vanes through the air only to judder back down in a cascade of fluttering ripples.

It’s a foreign motion on him, and one that escapes translation entirely; Mumbo is still drawing the map behind these new, unconscious ticks Grian displays when he isn’t paying attention, and the effect is not unlike staggering at the bow of a ship cresting a surge. Stomach churning, queasy, the threat of a capsize hanging over their heads— somewhere between Grian’s abrupt disappearance from Evo and his miraculous, tentative return, he’d fractured into wholly unfamiliar fault lines.

The universe no longer quite makes sense. Grian no longer quite makes sense— although, really, when did he ever. All Mumbo can do now is hold steady course, and hope the rudder hasn’t broken out from underneath him.

Or: Grian has a question, and Mumbo stumbles through the answer.

HI GANG I LIED ABOUT THE WORDCOUNT IT HIT 3.1K LMAOOO

Happy first fic of the new year!! I worked super hard on this for yall since the next chapter of hunger au proper isnt finished yet, so enjoy this in the meantime!! As always, likes are appreciated, reblogs are FANTASTIC, and commentary in the tags or on ao3 will have me swearing my undying fealty to you on the battlefield. Thanks in advance for reading and reblogging, and i hope you enjoy the fic!!

#shouting speaks #grian #mumbo jumbo #watcher!grian #watcher grian #evo watchers #hermitcraft #hermitcraft s6 #mcyt #mcyt fic #hunger au #pre canon #pre canon fic #my fics #tags on this fic are so funny and for what #my mans is a mess #GODSPEED 🫡#lnk

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dbow-darkmode · 4 days ago

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incredible things happening in the robot fucker community right now

#everybody say “thank you Tenna Deltarune”#wireplay #tenna #spamtenna #deltarune #techum #objectum #robophilia #this is all from ao3 and its only a fraction of what I saw #not even getting into what's on twitter/Tumblr/etc.#and no I did not read all these fics. I read like 3 but the tags were sending me #also tag yourself im “rule 32 typa weird kinks”#the wording is just so funny I cant get it out of my head #d-bow wow wow

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27spoons · 6 months ago

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Something to Try | Natalie Scatorccio

summary: A college party and some drinks with your best friend! What could possibly go wrong or irrevocably change your relationship?

pairing: natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

based on: pretty girls - reneé rapp

warnings: smut (afab!reader), internalized homophobia (nat), period typical homophobia (if you squint), alcohol consumption, ambiguously queer!reader, angst in my pants

a/n: i have not written smut in YEARS so this is... like... me getting back into it. i apologize in advance 😭🙏

wc: 5020

part two / ao3

Somewhere between Philadelphia and New York City sits a white two-story house in the middle of a nice suburban neighbourhood. Shitty speakers blast terrible dance music through the walls, and you're already wondering why the neighbours haven't called in noise complaints to the county.

"Well, at least it isn't a frat house this time." You mutter with a scowl, crossing your arms and looking at the scene from the sidewalk.

The girl standing next to you scoffs and shoves her hands in the pocket of her leather jacket, "Y'know, if you're gonna bitch the whole time, you could go back to your dorm…"

"I am not—" You huff and roll your eyes, "I am not going back to the dorms. Let me bitch every now and then."

"You bitch constantly." She returns your eye roll, "There is never a moment in time you are not bitching about something."

You uncross your arms and shove at her shoulder, "You're a prick. Now I'm gonna bitch about you, Natalie. Is that what you wanted?"

"Yes. Because that means you're talking about me, and that feeds my ego." Nat says with a firm nod of her head, unable to hide the dumb grin on her face as she walks with you up to the front door of the house. "So, to clarify, you can only bitch if you're bitching about me."

"One day, I worry your head will explode with how big it's getting." You open the door to the house, and the stench of cheap booze and stale cigarette smoke immediately assaults your senses. "Oh, I lied. This is basically a frat house."

Nat laughs as she steps in behind you, "Nah, this place looks like it has working toilets in all bathrooms. Can't be a frat house." She glances around, eyes searching through the clusters of people scattered around the house. Her face lights up when she apparently finds someone she wants to see, and she turns to face you. "Hey, I'm gonna chat with Kev for a little while, but I'll catch up to you later, yeah?"

You sigh and wave her off, "Yeah, yeah. Just try not to forget I'm here this time."

She gives you an overdramatic gasp, a hand flying over her heart, "How dare you. I would never forget you're here." She's already taking steps back to talk to Kevyn, "You're always my top priority; you should know that by now." She shoots an easy wink at you, then vanishes into the groups of people in the living room.

Well. You really don't know what you were expecting. Nat has a tendency to vanish off to smoke weed or do drugs with a few of her friends, and you don't know why you thought tonight would be any different.

Oh, well. Might as well go see how your friends are doing.

About an hour and three Zimas later, a familiar presence makes herself known by pressing right up against your side. "Told you I wouldn't forget about you." Nat grins to herself, "C'mon. Let's get a drink."

"I'm not done mine—" She's already got your arm in a firm grip and tugging you away from your group of friends.

"Fine. Then I can get one, and we can go smoke after. Either way, you're coming with me."

"I was in the middle of a conversation…" A whine leaves your throat, but you do nothing to stop her from pulling you to the destination she has in mind.

"We can start a new conversation with some alcohol. Away from all the people." For all the parties that Natalie attended, you always found it funny how she preferred to stick to the edge, watching from the sidelines. If it wasn't for the fact she was a starter on the soccer team, she'd probably be considered a wallflower.

Natalie drags you into the kitchen, where the air smells faintly of spilled beer and lime. She lets go of your arm long enough to rummage through the countertop clutter, successfully locating a half-empty bottle of vodka. “Classy,” she mutters, grabbing a plastic cup and pouring herself a generous splash before topping it with soda.

Her eyes flick to you as she takes a sip, leaning casually against the counter. “You’re way too sober to be at a party like this.”

"Mm, trust me, I'm working on it." You raise up the half-empty can you've been nursing for the past fifteen minutes. "You, on the other hand, seem far too eager to get drunk." A sip of your drink, "Like, more eager than usual. And you're already pretty eager to get shitfaced."

Nat scoffs and rolls her eyes, gesturing with her head for you to follow her. "Yeah, well, we played a good game today. Won by two goals. Maybe I'm celebrating." She quips as her shoulder pushes the backdoor open.

But… something in her tone feels off. You can't quite place it, but the words sound slightly strained. Maybe it's because you've known her so long, or maybe she's just getting more obvious, but you swear you see a small crack in the mask she so often wears in public.

"Nah, you're being weird tonight." You murmur, eyes narrowing as you appraise her behaviour. "Why are you being weird tonight?"

"I'm not being weird tonight." She scoffs and grabs a crumpled pack of cigarettes from her pocket, "Maybe you're hallucinating. Take any pills tonight?"

You frown, "Natalie."

She sighs and looks away like a child being chastised. "You're so pushy sometimes." She passes you a cigarette, "Jus' thinkin' about things."

"What things?" You lean against the wall beside her and take the smoke with a slight nod of thanks, letting her light the end for you once it's placed between your lips. "Anything I can help with?"

Nat hesitates momentarily as she lights her cigarette, clearly debating if she should actually speak about what's on her mind.

It takes her half of whatever she dumped into her cup, a handful of drags from her cigarette, and more than a few huffs of frustration on her part.

"You're… I mean… you're into chicks, right?"

You pause on the inhale of the smoke, then proceed to cough it out in surprise at the line of questioning. "Jesus—" A few more coughs, you waving the smoke away from your face. "That's what you wanted to ask me?" You shake your head and blink a few times, "Yeah, uh, I thought I told you that I was into chicks, like, ages ago."

"No, uh, you did." She waves her free hand dismissively, "I… sorry. I didn't—" She groans in frustration, "I think it's cool."

"Cool?" You parrot.

"Yeah." She says immediately, "I just… I think it's cool that you're open with yourself about that stuff." Nat brings her thumb to rub at one of her eyebrows, "Just… we don't talk about stuff like that." She shrugs, "Guess I just wanna check in now and then."

Confusion finds its way onto your face, and you shake your head as you try and put the pieces together of why is she asking this stuff right now? "You… you sure that's it?"

Her facade seems to crumble further as she takes another drag from her cigarette, "Nah, I just…" She glances up at you, "I dunno. If I was gonna, I think you'd be the one I tried."

Your eyes fly open at that comment, because… what???

Your brain short-circuits for a second, trying to process her words. “Wait… what—” You blink and shake your head a few times, trying to pull yourself back together.

"Don't worry about it." Nat interrupts quickly, "I didn't say anything." She snubs the cigarette out on the wall behind her, no longer meeting your gaze.

"No… no… don't do that." You shake your head and push off the wall, heart pounding so hard you can feel it, "You did say something. You can't just… throw that out there then pretend that you didn't say it."

She finishes the rest of her drink and drops the butt of the cigarette into the empty cup, "God, you're annoying sometimes. Just… forget I said anything, okay?"

"No… I'm not gonna forget you said that. 'cus I know you. You wouldn't just… say something like that." You take a step closer, "So if you're gonna say something, say it."

The blonde seems frustrated at the development in the conversation, and for a moment, you worry she's gonna completely shut things down and pull away, but instead, her expression softens. "I don't know." Looking down at her boots, she murmurs, "I don't know what I'm saying. I just… think about it sometimes. About you."

"Like… me? Specifically?" You shake your head, still in shock at this revelation.

A bitter laugh escapes Nat's mouth, "Don't make me spell it out." Her gaze finally meets yours again, and you swear your breath hitches at the sudden tension between the two of you.

"Natalie…" You start, but before you can say anything else, she's cutting you off and closing the difference between you.

"Shut up." She mutters, and then her lips are on yours—urgent, messy, and laced with the taste of vodka and cigarette smoke.

You freeze at the contact, eyes widening even further. This is not how you expected tonight to play out, and yet… you can't find it in you to pull away.

Despite yourself, you kiss her back, quickly matching her intensity. Her hands find their way to your hair as yours find their way to her waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens.

When she finally pulls back, her breathing is uneven, and her eyes are wide, like she can't believe what she just did. "Shit…" she whispers, running her fingers through your hair.

"What… what the hell was that?" You ask in disbelief, still trying to catch your breath.

"I told you," her trembling voice betraying the smirk tugging at her lips. "If I was gonna… you'd be the one I tried."

You swallow down the sudden lump that's appeared in your throat, "I don't… this…" You don't even know what you're trying to say, but you're trying to form coherent phrases. "What?"

A beat of silence as her eyes flick from your eyes to your mouth again, "Do you wanna be the one I try?" She asks quietly, continuing to run her fingers through her hair, making you far weaker than you should be.

"Natalie…" You manage, voice barely above a whisper. She's close now. Too close, really. Close enough that this could complicate everything and—

Her lips are back on yours.

That's enough to shut your thoughts up.

At some point during this exploratory makeout session, some obnoxious douchebag wolf whistles at the two of you making out, to which Nat promptly flips him off and starts pulling you inside the house.

"Come on." Natalie laughs as she tugs you into a spare bedroom, "I need you alone. Without assholes with a God complex interrupting us." She closes and locks the door to the bedroom. When she turns and looks at you, her lower lip is caught between her teeth, and her green eyes have a dangerous glint.

The second the door is locked, the reality of the situation sets in. Are you really about to do this? Are you really about to… God, what are you even gonna do here? Natalie is looking at you like you're a tall glass of water and she's dying of thirst. Meanwhile, you're looking at her like a damn deer in the headlights.

"For the record," She adds, "I'm not… this isn't…" She gestures between the two of you, "This is just some fun. Like… you know I'm not gay, right?"

She doesn't give you a chance to answer that before her lips are on yours, and she's walking you back to the edge of the bed, pushing you down and straddling your waist. "Just to blow off some steam." She murmurs as her lips move to your neck, pressing wet kisses against the soft skin.

If you had half a mind right now, you'd probably say something like, "Straight chicks don't willingly do stuff like this with other chicks," or "I see multiple issues with that logic," but it's hard to form replies when her tongue is tracing along your pulse point, and her lips are oh so warm against your skin.

You vaguely think about all the times you've thought about this happening—but that's just it. They were just supposed to be thoughts. You never actually expected to end up in bed with Natalie—let alone her being the one to initiate it—but here you are, all the same.

"Nat—" You finally manage once you remember you need to breathe, "You—"

She pulls back briefly to tug her shirt over her head, and all rational thought vanishes out the window (along with the last shreds of the restraint you had—if you even had any, to begin with), and she moves her hands to tug off your shirt, which you eagerly help her remove.

"I'm so happy you came to the party." She whispers in awe as her hands trail up and down your torso in appreciation, "God…" Her hand stops to cup your breast, and you find yourself arching into her chest subconsciously.

She looks down at you like you're an experiment—which you are, really—or something to decipher and explore. But, honestly? You're sorta willing to be her experiment right now, even if a part of you knows this will hurt the both of you come morning.

"I wasn't gonna come, you know?" You murmur back, letting her map out your body under her surprisingly careful fingers, "I just… didn't see the point."

"That's your issue, yeah?" Nat replies back just as quietly, "You always think too much rather than just doing. Life is so much more fun when you stop overthinking everything." She brushes her thumb over your clothed nipple, which causes you to let out a small gasp, "And sometimes you talk too much when you should be doing other things. Like this." Her hand leaves your chest and joins her other one behind her back, unclasping her bra and letting it fall down her shoulders.

"Oh, fuck." It's your turn to be awestruck now. "God, you're so…" Your hands trail up her body, running up her sides, her head falling back and a sigh spilling from her lips. "Fucking beautiful. So fucking beautiful." You stop to cup the underside of her breasts, earning a sound of approval from the girl on top of you as she begins to roll her hips against yours slowly.

"Yeah…" Nat breathes out, "Little higher…" She grabs your wrists and moves your hands on your behalf, placing them directly overtop her breasts, "Don't be afraid to touch me, not fragile…"

"Wasn't afraid," You reply as you squeeze gently, "was just trying to take my time. Not rush the good stuff."

She scoffs out a laugh, "Maybe I want you to rush to the good stuff; think of that?"

"Nah, that's no fun. Foreplay is half the excitement. Gotta build tension."

"Tension's been building all night." She rasps with a roll of her hips, "So don't give me that bullshit."

"Fine. Maybe I just want to take my time. Think of that?" You roll a nipple between your thumb and pointer, grinning to yourself at the way she gasps and her hips stutter at the sensation. "I like to play with my food before I eat it."

A low chuckle spills from deep in Nat's chest at your last comment, "Jesus, you're terrible. Has your dirty talk always been this bad?"

"Yep." You respond immediately, "Just another thing I'm skilled at, really."

"Really?" She looks down at you, an assumed smirk on her face. "What other things could you possibly be skilled at?"

You grin right back at her. That was exactly the reply you wanted. And she says your dirty talk is terrible. You're just always five steps ahead, really.

"If you'd let me show you, I've been told my fingers and tongue are pretty talented." You grin wider when she blushes despite herself, "And, honestly? I kinda wanna show you."

Nat scoffs to hide how flustered she is at your teasing, "W-what? Is this the part where you tell me that I've been "missing out," too?"

"Oh, I wasn't gonna say anything. You were the one that did that."

A beat.

You laugh.

"Oh my God. Shut up." And her lips are back on yours before you can protest—not that you would want to, anyways—and you're kissing her back in a heartbeat, her hands leaving your wrists to rest on your collarbones, thumbs tracing the lines of your bra strap.

Your hands find their way to Nat's hips, squeezing the soft flesh there and encouraging their movement as her tongue slides its way into your mouth.

Things move fast after that. You aren't quite sure when she manages to take your bra off, and she isn't quite sure when you managed to get her pants off, but before either of you can think about how fast things are moving, you're both making out in nothing but your underwear.

For one of the first times in your life, you're realising that you're the more experienced one when it comes to this sort of thing. Nat's never been with a girl before, giving you the upper hand.

Something you fully plan on exploiting.

You end up shifted so that she's laying flat on the bed under you while you're propped up on an elbow next to her, using your free arm to run your hand down her body as the two of you continue this heated makeout session you've been in for the past… however long you've been in this room.

When your fingers begin to tease the edge of her panties, Nat gasps and deepens the kiss further, with one of her hands curling around the nape of your neck as the other comes to rest on your shoulder. Which, well, seems like consent if you've ever been given any.

You let your fingers trail under the waistband and lower still, grinning into the kiss when you feel her push herself into your hand despite the fact you haven't even touched her yet.

"Don't be a tease." Nat whines into the kiss, earning a low laugh from you.

"Not teasing. Just taking my time, is all." You properly brush your fingers against her, delving into the warmth but never quite going where she wants you to.

"No, you're being a fucking tease!" She whines again, more petulantly, her nails digging into your shoulder.

You click your tongue at that, "And you're a lot needier than I thought you'd be, Scatorccio. Can't spend five minutes doing some foreplay?"

"What I want to do is spend my time—" You cut her off when your fingers brush against her clit, a feral grin spreading across your features.

"You were saying something, Nat?"

"Oh my God. Shut up." She repeats for the second time tonight, pulling you in for another kiss, using the hand on the nape of your neck to aid in her agenda.

After you decide you've teased her clit for a suitable amount of time, you slide your middle and ring finger down the length of her wetness, then proceed to tease her entrance in slow circles. Nat bites on your lower lip in retaliation for what she still deems as "teasing," but is quick enough to soothe the bite with her tongue.

"You know," You murmur as you break the kiss, pulling back to watch her face, "I think you're gonna enjoy this."

She scoffs, "Yeah, that's sorta the point, dipshit."

"Mm, not what I meant." You sink those two fingers inside of her, enjoying the way her breath catches, and she arches into your touch. "I think you're gonna really enjoy this."

"You've got a big head." She starts rocking her hips against your hand, the motion causing the heel of your palm to rub against her, "You gonna… gonna… back that up?"

"I think I already am, honestly." You murmur back as you begin to move your fingers, "Did you even notice you were humping my hand?" Based on how her hips stutter for the slightest moment, the answer was probably no.

"Is all you do tease?"

You laugh at that, slowly figuring out what she likes based on her reactions to what you do, "Mhm. It's my favourite part of this." You pull your fingers back just as she seems to be really getting into it, which earns you a confused whine, but you don't give her long to worry about it.

You start at her lips, then slowly work your mouth down her body. Admittedly, you spend a little longer than needed lingering in the valley between her breasts, but who can really blame you? They're nice, and you've spent far too long wondering what it would be like to be between them.

You continue moving south once Natalie lets out a frustrated huff and pushes at your shoulders slightly, your lips pausing just under her belly button, glancing up at her for one last okay before you go this far.

She gives you her approval in the form of a slight nod, and you immediately hook your fingers in the waistband of her panties and tug them down once you have it.

You trail your mouth up her leg, starting from her ankle and moving upwards, only slowing down once you reach her thighs.

"Such a fucking tease…" Nat mumbles to herself when you slow down, so you nip her thigh in some form of retaliation at her impatience.

"Good things come to those who wait." And you tease her longer, purposefully avoiding her aching center just to prove your point.

When she starts tugging at your hair in frustration, you finally relent, flattening your tongue and dragging it through her folds once, then twice, then pull back for a moment to look at her.

"Goddamn." You murmur, "We're gonna have fun." You press a chaste kiss to her clit, then immediately dive in, nuzzling your nose against it as your tongue presses in.

Truthfully, you've always liked it a little messy. You don't think Nat minds in the slightest. In fact, one might even say that she prefers it when it's sloppy.

Pornographic slurping sounds fill the small bedroom, coupled with the sharp inhales Nat takes every time you do something she really likes, and you decide you really like those sounds, making it your sole mission to have her make as many of them as possible.

When you move your mouth up to attach to her clit, you replace your tongue with two fingers, delving them back into the warm heat of her pussy. You hum in appreciation at the gasp she makes as you work your fingers in tandem with your mouth.

Nat, you've noticed, isn't very vocal. That's fine; she doesn't need to be. Not when her hips keep rocking against your face. Not when her eyes are shut, and her face is contorted in an expression of pleasure. Not when one of her hands is trembling atop her mouth in a poor attempt to stifle those small sounds.

You pick up on what she likes really quickly, trying to keep your eyes trained on her face as long as possible. Knowing that you're the one making her look like that. You really didn't need the ego boost, but you'll take it anyway.

She lets you know she's about to come with her hand moving from your hair to smack your shoulder a few times, a shaky "F-fuck—" spilling from her lips and her back arching off the mattress. You double down on your actions to get her there, and when her thighs clamp down on either side of your head, you let yourself grin.

Natalie isn't one to give herself time to wind down, however.

Once she finishes riding out her climax, she's immediately tugging you up to mash her lips against yours, rolling you over so you're lying on your back instead of her.

"Mm, wait—" You push her shoulder back when one of her hands goes to trail down your body, "You don't have to… I don't need you to "repay the favour"—"

"I want to." Nat cuts you off, pressing her lips against your neck and working her way down your body. "And, for the record?" She pauses and looks up at you when she reaches your collarbone, "I'm a fast learner." She grins and continues moving her mouth lower, fingers hooking in the waistband of your underwear.

"Fast learner." You huff out as you lift your hips for her, allowing her to tug your panties down your legs and discard them somewhere off to the side.

"Yeah," She agrees as she sits back on her knees, "Real fast learner, actually. And I doubt it's that much different than going down on a guy." A beat, "Who knows? Maybe I'll learn something that could be useful in my… future endeavours."

You bristle slightly at the comment, an uneasy feeling gripping the back of your neck for a reason you can't quite place. "Nat—" And, much like you were doing to her, she cuts you off by attaching her lips straight to your clit, causing you to gasp in shock at the sudden sensation. "F-fuck!" You hiss out. While it's not a bad sensation—far from it— it is unexpected and bypassing any and all forms of teasing.

Nat seems to delight in the sounds you're making and continues her exploration of your pussy. She pays eager attention to your clit at the beginning before realising that she should probably attend to other areas as well, and promptly doing just that.

And, hey, she was right. She is a fast learner. And an eager one, at that.

Her fingers dig into the meat of your thighs with bruising strength, forcing them open and refusing to let you budge from her hold even slightly. And, in true Natalie fashion, she's just as messy about it as you were, never one to be outdone.

However, unlike you, she doesn't seem content to spend the whole time going down on you. She pulls back and pushes her hair out of her face, "God, I wanna try something—" She moves to straddle one of your thighs and presses her own up against your center, hands coming to rest on your shoulders.

"Shit," You murmur as your hands find purchase on her hips, "You sure you haven't been with a chick before? You sure seem to know what you're doing…"

"What can I say? I've done some research here and there." She lets out a low laugh that turns into a breathless sort of moan as her hips roll against your thigh, pushing her thigh further against you in turn.

"Holy fuck, you're so fucking wet," Nat says in astonishment, her head falling forward as you begin rocking against her thigh. "Goddamn…"

"Yeah, you're not any better." You reply breathlessly, "Gonna fuckin' make a mess on my thigh…"

She rakes her nails down your chest and lets out a noise you're pretty sure is supposed to be a growl, "That's the idea. Already made a mess of your face, might as well ruin another part of you." And her lips are back on yours before you can come up with some sort of retort.

You two move against each other with urgency, breaking the kiss to rest your foreheads together as you breathe heavily.

Natalie digs her nails into your waist, lips attaching to your neck again as she continues to rock her hips against your thigh.

It's a mess of animalistic grunts and X-rated gasps that fill your ears. The noises, combined with her lips on your neck and the way she's oh so desperately moving against your thigh? You can't help yourself. It might be one of the hottest things you've ever witnessed.

The woman on top of you comes first with a sharp gasp followed by a low groan. Then, upon realising you still haven't, her fingers replace her thigh, moving with intention.

"Fuck—" You arch up into her hand, "Shit, you don't have to—"

"Shut up." She whispers against your skin, "Let me make you feel good."

And, well, who are you to say no to the girl with her hand between your thighs?

By the end of the evening, you're more relaxed than you've been in a long time. Nat is lying loosely on the bed beside you, her hand playing with your fingers.

"Weren't lying." She murmurs after a long silence between you two, seemingly lost in thought.

"Not lying about what?" You prop yourself up on an elbow, looking down at her as she sighs quietly.

"Really enjoying this." Her voice comes out soft, and it almost appears that even she seems surprised at the words. "I just… I don't know. It was fun."

You smile to yourself at that and squeeze her hand, "Yeah." Despite the haze of lust and alcohol that clouds your mind, at least, that is something you can agree to.

Morning.

The first thing you notice? You have a killer headache.

The second thing? This isn't your bed.

The third thing? You're alone in this bed.

Last night crashes over you in waves. Images of Natalies flushed face underneath you. The way she seemed almost eager to be with you in that way.

The sheets still smell faintly of her—a mix of smoke and something warm, something hers. You reach out instinctively, fingers brushing the cool, empty space beside you. She’s gone. Of course, she’s gone. You should’ve known better.

Last night replays in your mind: the way her hands gripped your shoulders, her voice a low whisper against your skin. You could’ve sworn, for just a moment, she wanted you. Needed you. But maybe that was just the vodka.

Maybe it was just the vodka.

a/n: this is so much longer than I thought it would be and yet not long enough

tragic

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