#we could totally do a star gazing date we’re in the same time zone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lunaekalenda · 3 years

Note

Heyo can I get an Armin x fem reader where he’s currently dating Annie and reader is a new student and Armin and reader start to get to know each other more and start to gain feelings for each other and reader doesn’t know he’s dating Annie and shes on pretty good terms with her since Annie sort of envies her cuz she’s sweet and outgoing, so reader asks him out he says yes and things are great for them until Annie starts to realize Armins been distancing himself from her and hanging out with reader a lot and she confronts him about it and he admits that he just fell out of love and started gaining heavy feelings for reader and they break up even though Annie’s hurt she tries to stay happy and accepts reader and armins new found relationship:3 (can it be a modern AU and can it be in 1st POV from either reader or Armin please and thank you)

hiii!! :D omg yes!! i hope you like it! sorry if i took long to write it :’) and i think it’s a little messed up sorry

i hope it is what you’ve asked for! i didn’t want to make it longer, so this is it!

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

❁ Private lessons

❁ Armin x female reader

❁ !! : cheating

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

"So this is your new classmate, I hope you get along well."

Everybody smiles, specially a blue-eyed girl on the first row. The professor tells me to sit next to her.

"Hi, I'm Historia." She smiles sweetly. I smile back at her. Professor Keith starts his class, and I do my best to follow his explanations.

I used to study in a south zone institute, but my dad was posted north which made me move and switch to this institute. Near to Historia, and looking at her, is a tall girl with brown eyes and a low ponytail. On my other side, there’s a brown-haired boy with freckles, looking nice and smiling. Behind him, a boy with an undercut looks bored. The professor starts talking about history, and Historia passes me a paper.

“I can give you my notes for you to copy” I smile at her and nod. An hour after, the class is finished.

“Okay, I’ll introduce you to all. This girl here is Ymir.” she points to the tall girl, that is walking towards us. She hugs Historia while talking.

“I hate history classes, oh, my sweet and beloved Historia, if you...”

“I’ll help you to study this afternoon.” Ymir smiles at her and kisses her cheek in signal of thanks. “Oh, the new one.” I smile at Ymir and she does the same.

Historia points a huge blonde boy, that was sitting behind me. He’s talking with a black-haired tall guy. “Those two are Reiner and Bertholdt. And the blonde girl coming is Annie” A girl with a bun goes to the door, followed by a boy. “And that’s Armin. He’s always with Eren and Eren is always with Mikasa.” They are following Armin. The boy with freckles comes and smiles at me.

“Hi, I’m Marco! I hope we can became friends! He’s Jean, my best friend.” The boy with the undercut waves his hand at me.

“Oh, and the two fighting for cup of ramen are Connie and Sasha. Now, should we eat together?” I nod to Marco and Historia. They pull their tables together and star eating. They tell me how was the first semester and try to know if my institute on the south was giving the same subjects than here, and told me to join their study group.

“Armin gives us classes. He’s really smart and catches up all the subjects, and he also likes to explain.” They tell me that the next session is going to be tomorrow afternoon on Reiner’s. “We take turns studying at each other's house, so it's not always the same host” Actually that’s a good plan, so I guess someday I’ll have to be a host too. My face darkens as I remember that my house is too small to accommodate more than three people in the same room. Mom and Dad live in a flat that dad's company gave them, but the distance between that apartment and the institute made them decide to rent a one-man flat for me. We keep eating and attending the next classes.

Faster than I thought, the afternoon of the study group arrived. I took all the books before leaving home, and walked towards the entrance, where Marco, that lives literally next door, was waiting to help me arrive to Reiner’s home. He was dressing casually, not a huge difference between seeing him on the school uniform.

“Good morning!” Marco says when I left the entrance. I wave my hand at him. “Ready for a studying session?”

“I think so, but everybody raves about how well Armin explains, so I’m impatient to see it! I think I need a lot of help to pass this course.”

“That’s normal, you arrived in the middle of it! But I’m sure you’ll be okay, your grades on the other institute were pretty high!” Marco, as the class delegate, had to pass my expedient to the new institute, and he looked at my grades to do it. We walk in silence while he explains me some streets or where our classmates lived.

“Reiner’s house is the one furthest from the institute, the rest of us live near it.”

Once were in Reiner’s house, a lot of classmates were waiting outside. Jean walked towards Marco.

“I knew you could guide the new girl here without problem!” Jean smiles at me and Historia comes, followed by Ymir.

“Oh, you arrived!” Historia says. Then, Reiner makes us enter his house. We all sit when Armin arrives. He has his blonde hair messy, and his hands are occupied with some papers.

The studio group is outgoing and nice to me, but when Armin starts to explain history of the north, I’m totally lost. He looks at me with curiosity.

Armin’s eyes were so beautiful, and every time he looks at me my heart flutters.

“Do you understand it?” I shake my head. The north history is totally new for me, I never studied it. “Don’t worry, are you free tomorrow?”

“Hm, yes, I am” He smiles before writing something on a paper. “There’s were I live. Come at four and I’ll explain everything to you, with detail.”

He was so sweet I couldn’t say no, so I nod and smile at him.

Walking back home, Marco explains me where Armin lives.

“Up that street, the last house. He lives in front of Eren and Mikasa.”

Marco invited me to have dinner with him and Jean in a near bar, where, surprisingly, also Connie was having dinner. When I asked him why he was there alone, he told me.

“I took some dinner with me but Sasha ate it, and now I have to have some dinner because I’m about to pass out of hunger.”

“Can we sit here, Conn?” Marco asks and Connie nods. We have dinner between laughs and stories. and everybody leaves once we’re finished.

The next day, I'm in front of Armin's house, waiting for him. He makes me go into his house.

"Sorry if my room is messed up, I just woke up." He says, with his hand on his neck. I laugh.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure your room is more organized than mine.” He lets me pass in front of him to a clear and enormous room. It has a lot of books and a shelf full of seashells. He tells me to take off my jacket and put it on a near chair. We sit on the floor, near to the coffee table he has in the middle of the room. He takes some books with him.

“Okay, so North History.” I nod. He starts to explain me with calm and quiet voice, making sure I understand everything, and looking me in the eyes.

I can’t concentrate if his ocean eyes are fixed on mine. Once Armin ends explaining me the unit, we agreed in having a little break. He passes me a cup of coffee and a couple cookies.

“So, do you like the city?” he asks. I nod while swallowing the coffee.

“Yes, it’s pretty cool. In the south we don’t have this big cities like in the north, Is more like a rural place. So at first it was complicated for me to move.” Armin nods, telling me without words that he understands me.

“Well, I can show you the city. I’m not a talkative person but I know a lot about the history of the place, so I can tell you about some of the famous buildings.”

“That would be amazing...” Thanks to my parents, I was born without the gift of shame. Armin had caught my eye, so why not give it a try? “Something like a date?”

Armin laughs, kinda blushing.

“Yes, something like a date.” he answers.

A couple weeks later, after passing a lot of time with Armin, we decided to go and explore the city. I choose a yellow dress my mum bought me for our date. He was there when I arrived.

“Hi!” He looks at me when I talk to him. He smiles a bit.

“Hi” answers. We start walking. Where do you want to start?”

“What about the park?” He nods. We walk, and he tells me a lot of curious things about the city. “Did you know this was a prison?”

The, he invites me, buying me an ice cream. We sit on a cool park, and we eat the ice creams in silence. His phone starts to sound. He looks the name of the person who’s calling, but he puts his phone again on his pocket.

“Sorry, you know how many times a day do telephone companies call.” I nod, totally clueless. He was kinda nervous after that, and it made me think he maybe wasn’t talking with telephone companies.

After the long day out, my feet hurt. Armin laughs and accompanies me home. Once we’re at my door, Armin smiles sweetly.

“Do you want to enter?” I ask. Armin’s face blushes. “N-No! I wasn’t asking like that?!”

“I know, I know.” he laughs, “Anyway, I should go home. It’s kinda late.” he looks the hour on his phone. I can glimpse a blonde girl on his wallpaper, smiling at the camera.

“Well, thanks for today...” I say, in low voice, He smiles and lends closer to me. His gaze fixed on my mouth.

“See you tomorrow?” I ask. He hums before leaning even closer and he kisses me.

I kiss him back. I was literally hoping for this to happen. His arms are around my waist. When we part, I’m kinda dizzy. He’s an awesome kisser, not gonna lie.

“Bye, then.”

He’s about to leave, but what kind of boy leaves a girl right after kissing her? I took his hand.

“Does this mean that now we are dating?” I ask. He smiles wide.

“Probably. I’ll wait for you tomorrow.” He kisses me again, lightly, and then he leaves.

Our relationship grew really fast, but he didn’t want to look that closer at school.

“You know, professors might think we’re not fixed on our studies.”

And he also was really close to Annie. I wasn’t jealous, he spends a lot of time at my house, my mum loves him and we are so in love...

Annie looks at me with anger while we’re in music class. She’s fixed on me. When she comes to talk with me, Armin intercepts her.

“Annie! can we talk outside a bit?” He says. She looks at me, but then nods. I stand up and follow them. They’re talking in the corridor. I tell myself to sit and mind my own business, but her tone makes me stay there, listening,

“You’re really close to her now.” she says. Armin asks her to be quiet.

“Annie, I only love you...”

“You’ve been lying for a fucking month. Stop it already, Armin. Tell me the truth, or I’ll ask her.”

“I...” I can hear Annie’s steps, but it’s late to go back to my seat. Fortunately, Armin calls her. “Wait, Annie! See... I... I don’t love you. It was fast, but I fell in love with her. She’s really sweet and I couldn’t handle it. She studied so close to me... Her lips so close... And admit it, our relationship was about to die.” He says. Annie doesn’t make a sound.

Were Annie and Armin dating?

Did I break a couple?

Oh, no.

“Well, we...”

“We were sinking, And because of you.” he says. “You wasted a lot of time with Reiner and Bert. You were the one always occupied to see me. The one that never came to our dates. I need someone to be with, Annie, and you weren’t filling that desire, so I started to feel less and less for you. And she loves me. She always asks me to do something with her, either watch a movie or just lay down together. She counts me on her plans. I deserve something like what I give. So, I hope you can be happy with another one.”

“But why you waited so long to break up with me?”

“I thought you knew I was cheating on you. I was kinda obvious.”

Annie keeps being quiet.

“Hope you two be happy then.” she says, before walking to the opposite direction.

Maybe their relationship was made to sink. Armin enters again, and I look interested to the books on the shelf.

“You’re so cute...” he says. I smile a bit.

The doubt about asking him or not about what just happened dissapears when I feel his lips on mine.

“We don’t have to hide now?” I ask. He shakes his head.

“No more.”

59 notes · View notes

peraltasames · 4 years

Text

stars are just beginning to appear (and i have never in my life before been here)

28. “I have never felt this way about anyone” requested by anonymous with some early relationship fluff 💘💘💘

read on ao3

Amy collapses on Jake’s couch the second they cross the threshold into his studio apartment and take off their shoes and jackets. Her feet are beyond sore from their day spent walking around the city, and her poor out-of-shape boyfriend seems to be on the cusp of total debilitation.

“Can’t...make it,” Jake huffs dramatically, leaning against the back of the door that he’s just locked behind him. “Too far.”

She rolls her eyes, patting the seat next to her. “Get over here, idiot.”

Jake, very theatrically, stumbles over and plops down next to her, spreading out his limbs so that he’s occupying most of the couch. She doesn’t mind - it just gives her an excuse to lean back against his chest and kick her feet up on the coffee table, nuzzling into his chest as he wraps his arm around her waist.

“Did you have a good day?” she asks, playing with the hem of his t-shirt.

“I mean, I wish you had let us take the subway instead of walking like eighty blocks, but it was really fun.”

Amy had woken up that morning to sunlight and a cool autumn breeze creeping in through the window, and she knew immediately that it was the perfect day to be tourists in their own city. He hadn’t taken much convincing - a few kisses to his shoulder and the promise of a cup of coffee from his favourite place seemed to do the trick.

“It’s part of the experience! I mean, when was the last time you walked across the Brooklyn Bridge?”

“I don’t know, that’s what the F train is for!”

She laughs softly, already reminiscing on their day together. Aside from the bickering over the best way to see the city (which is obviously by foot, with the bonus of getting some exercise) and having to navigate the swell of tourists, it was picture-perfect; she’s certain she could spend every moment of every day walking through the autumn foliage of Central Park with Jake Peralta’s hand firmly in hers.

She even brought him to her absolute favourite spot in the city, the cafe right across from the largest New York Public Library branch at 42nd and Fifth. It’s one of the first places she went when she moved to New York for college, and their croissants and vanilla lattes still bring her an unparalleled sense of comfort and warmth.

“You know, that was one of the best lattes I’ve ever had,” Jake admits, squeezing his arm around her. “So I guess the walk to Midtown was worth it.”

“It’s my favourite place for a reason,” she grins. “I’m glad you liked it. It was...really nice, you know. Being there with you.”

He smiles brightly at her, but still teases, because he’s still Jake, “I bet you say that to all the guys, Santiago.”

Her heart flutters as she comes to the realization that she’s never brought a boyfriend there. Even in relationships longer than this one, relationships that looked better on paper, she’s never considered taking a guy to her little oasis in the bustling city. It’s too sacred to be tainted by memories of an ex-boyfriend when the relationship comes to an end.

But she didn’t run through the worst-case scenarios before dragging Jake down Fifth this morning. She didn’t even consider the possibility that she might break up with him, because - subconsciously or otherwise - she wants this to last...for a long time.

(She’s reluctant to use the F word, but “forever” doesn’t even sound that scary right now.)

“You’re actually the first,” she confesses, the words tumbling out of her mouth before her brain can decide whether or not this is information she really wants to share with him.

He quirks an eyebrow. “Really?”

Emboldening herself by sitting up straighter, her hand tightly wrapping around his where it rests on her thigh, she nods her head.

“Really. I’ve never felt like taking any of my past boyfriends there.”

His tone remains light and curious, but he holds her hand just as tightly and she can see his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows nervously. “Why not?”

“I guess cause I...” She bites her lip, forcing herself to look him directly in the eye. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”

Amy knows she’s just dropped a bomb, one big enough to blow up a relationship this new. She shouldn’t be surprised by the way Jake’s face falls completely and he loosens his grip on her hand, and yet it’s the most soul-crushing, life-destroying thing in the world that he might not be falling for her as hard and as quickly as she is for him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - that was a lot-”

“No!” Jake exclaims, his eyes widening as she pulls away from him and shifts to the other side of the couch. “No, Ames, oh my god, I was just surprised - I obviously feel the same way.”

His words pull her back from the verge of bursting into tears and running out the door, his hands warm and reassuring as they grip hers.

“You do?”

“Are you kidding me, Santiago?” He rolls his eyes, shaking his head with evident adoration. “I pined for you for over a year, I wanted to give up my job to be with you after six days of dating. I drank Orangina for you, babe.”

She smiles, both at his overly dramatic face of disgust and the ease with which he slips between calling her “Santiago” and “babe” these days.

“I’m sorry if it wasn’t obvious, but I’ve definitely never felt like this before,” he assures her. “I almost let a perp escape the other day because a car drove by playing that Coldplay song you like and I got distracted.”

Amy laughs softly, her hand sliding up his arm and shoulder to cup the pack of his neck and draw him in for a slow kiss. When she pulls away, his reassuring smile has faded into the passionate gaze she only gets to bear witness to in certain precious moments - right after sex, when the world seems to consist of only them; after particularly mind-blowing kisses like this one; when she brings him a coffee at work and kisses his cheek while nobody’s watching.

“Glad we’re on the same page then, Peralta,” she murmurs reverently, her hand sliding up his thigh and squeezing lightly.

It’s enough to convey the message that she wants him here and now. He pulls her closer, diving back in to kiss her immediately; she responds in turn by climbing into his lap and straddling his thighs, slowly rolling her hips against his. He breaks the kiss as a moan escapes him, his desperate hands tugging her sweater over her head and tossing it on the floor.

He’s predictably distracted by the lacy black bra she wore specifically for him, so she takes advantage of the moment to peel off his grey t-shirt and run her hands over his bare shoulders and biceps.

“Mm, we should go to the bed,” Amy mumbles half-heartedly between the kisses he’s leaving on her neck, trailing down to the zone not visible in work clothes where she lets him mark her skin. “You didn’t spend all that money on a new mattress for us to have sex on your couch.”

He keeps kissing her, sliding the straps of her bra down, and gently pushes her down against the couch cushions until he’s hovering over her, every inch of his body pressed against hers.

“Not yet.”

His lips travel down her stomach and her thighs start tingling with anticipation, the thought of Jake going down on her enough to make her melt in even the most professional or serious moments - and it has, when her brain unfortunately chose to replay the events of her morning in a meeting with Captain Holt a few weeks ago - but he pauses.

“Jake, please-”

He cuts her off with a firm kiss to her lips, so passionate and intense that it makes her forget for a moment the activities at hand and her lust-driven train of thought and also everything else in the universe. It’s somehow also impossibly affectionate, his hand cupping her face while the other tangles in her hair. It’s both infinite and far too short, but once he pulls away she’s seeing stars that don’t disappear after her eyes slowly open.

“What was that for?” she asks quietly, her heart beating so loud that she’s sure he can feel it against his chest.

She’s not sure she’s ever been kissed like that in her life. Jake’s an incredible kisser, and though she at first partially attributed it to the emotional and physical buildup of wanting to do that for so long, he just seems to be getting better every time. His kisses are like pure magic, leaving her dazed and in awe.

“No reason.”

The reason, she suspects deep in her gut and will learn a few short months from now is accurate, is that they’re madly in love and can never get enough of each other.

But for now, she’s satisfied with kissing him again and letting him work more of his Jake Peralta magic.

#title from good intentions paving co by jnew of course!!#jake x amy #b99 fic #also this is fr how much my best friend made me walk when we went to nyc last year #it was v painful

169 notes · View notes

merflk · 4 years

Text

if your cascade, ocean wave blues come.

main pairing: ginny weasley x blaise zabini background pairings: neville longbottom x astoria greengrass, percy weasley x pansy parkinson, oliver wood x marcus flint words: 6021 link: ao3 soundtrack: peace - taylor swift

Every wedding she’s attended since the war reminds her of Bill and Fleur’s.

She can’t help it. No matter the venue, or the people getting married, or the guests attending, every single time she’s pulled back into that tent in her parents’ backyard.

It was bad the first few times. The war sparked a lot of tragedy, but the war ending made people feel like taking the leap together. In the past seven years, she’s been to thirteen weddings total. The first time, it was like she was transported back into the war in the middle of the ceremony. She had a quiet panic attack that no one noticed and, eventually, got home absolutely plastered. After that happened a second time, she realised that it was a wedding thing. So for a little bit she attended none.

That didn’t last very long. Hard to get to wedding number fourteen otherwise.

The thing that saved her was her camera. As it turned out, taking pictures was a ton of fun, and she was kind of good at it. At first, it was because she ignored every single ‘rule’ photography had. She paid next to no attention to classic perspective and lighting. She just went ahead and snapped. People said it was artistic. That made her feel a little proud, so she kept taking them.

At some point, the camera became an extension of herself. And she became a photographer.

Now, wedding photography is like a little treat. She only does it for friends and family, not as an actual career choice, choosing to stick to other subjects for that. When Neville asked if she would take the pictures for his wedding to Astoria, she agreed to it immediately. They’re having a spring wedding, full of flowers and sunshine, and now that she’s standing here, looking around, she feels free from Bill and Fleur’s wedding for the first time.

Ginny smiles and snaps a picture of Harry, Ron and Hermione, who are laughing loudly near the buffet. The wedding is outside, in the large garden of the Greengrass estate. As far as Ginny knows, it took a lot of convincing to get Astoria’s parents on board with her marrying Neville, but with the help of her sister Daphne (who was a grade A politician) they had managed to figure something out.

The gardens are huge, and the wedding is smack in the middle of them, so the house seems pretty far away from here. Even so, she can still make out its luxurious white exterior. Neville is marrying into big money. But…

Ginny glances over at Neville and Astoria, who are quietly dancing in the middle of the dance floor, their foreheads pressed together. The hem of Astoria’s dress is slightly smudged with mud, and she has three flowers in her hair. It’s like they’re their own little sun with the amount of love and happiness radiating from them. The other dancing couples orbit them, basking in their light.

She takes a picture.

Even if Astoria’s parents never accepted Neville, even if they had disowned their daughter like they’d originally threatened to do, neither of them would have wavered. They would have had a tiny wedding somewhere in a forest, and Ginny would have taken the exact same picture there.

Damn, love is kind of beautiful.

Thinking of Neville and Astoria as the sun puts the wedding in a different light, though. Ginny looks around carefully, looking at the way that groups of people move together through the space. Although this wedding is one between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, that mixing of houses doesn’t extend to the party guests. Now that she’s looking for it, Ginny notices the way that there are clusters of isolated guests spread out. A couple of former Slytherins here, a few former Gryffindors there. There are two or three places where the houses meet, and of course there are people of all houses here. Hannah Abbott is chatting with Romilda Vane. Padma Patil is having a very playful conversation with George. Pansy Parkinson says something to Percy as she steals his glass of champagne right from his hands. But, afterwards, they move towards their own group of people – Percy to Fred and Angelina, Pansy to Daphne and Blaise Zabini.

When Ginny follows her with her gaze, her eyes land on Zabini for a moment, and she catches him looking back at her. Perhaps it would be more fair to say that he catches her looking at him. As a reflex, finding the perfect excuse, Ginny lifts up her camera and takes a picture of the three of them from a distance.

When she looks at the screen briefly to check the photo, she notices that Blaise is smiling in it, looking straight into the camera. He looks so good that she wonders if that was his reflex – put on the model face. He probably has modelled for something or other, right? She thinks she heard that rumour somewhere at some point. That his parents live in Italy and he’s done some modelling there after the war. No, wait – just his mom. She’s notoriously remarried a bunch of times. Lady Zabini is a bad bitch.

“Did it come out well?”

Ginny jumps and almost drops her camera, like she’s been caught red-handed doing something embarrassing.

When she looks up, Blaise Zabini is right in front of her, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his perfectly-tailored suit and a smile on his face that tells her he knows exactly why she just almost jumped out of her skin.

Get it together, Ginny, she scolds herself. You’re the wedding photographer, for Merlin’s sake. You’re just doing your job. He can’t prove anything.

“Yeah, I got a good one,” she says with a polite smile, “Astoria expressly asked me to take some extra pictures of the friends and family today. I think she’s making an album.”

Blaise snorts, and his smile softens for a moment. “Sounds like her.”

His response piques her curiosity a little bit. “Are you close with the family?”

“I suppose.” He smiles at her, something sly that makes her feel like they’re sharing a secret. “We’re all pretty tight-knit.”

Ah. So he’s aware of it too, hm?

“I can tell.” Ginny looks around again. “People stick together.”

Blaise sighs. “People are obsessed with the comfort zone.” He scrutinises her face for a moment, and Ginny has to think of ice water to keep from getting flustered. This man has a very intense gaze.

Shark eyes, she thinks to herself.

“Not you, though, aren’t you?”

It’s supposed to be a compliment, she thinks, but it feels undeserved. “I’m not so sure,” she tells him honestly, “If that was really the case, maybe I wouldn’t be standing behind a screen the entire time.” She holds up her camera.

Blaise hums softly, a deep, warm sound. Unexpectedly, Ginny feels something inside of her light up.

“But you’re brave,” he presses, “With that, uh… Gryffindor spunk?”

She laughs, and he smiles like that was what he was angling for in the first place.

“I guess. At least I can be honest about it. Not sure if that’s the Gryffindor spunk, but well.”

“So maybe it’s the Weasley?”

She arches an eyebrow at him. “I’d like to think it’s the Ginny.”

He tilts his head. “Fair enough. It’s admirable, in any case.” He grins. “And kind of sexy.”

She laughs again, the flame inside of her glowing brighter. She wonders if that’s how love works – if a sun like Neville and Astoria makes all the other stars brighter too. Maybe she’s getting swept up in the atmosphere. But…

She looks over Blaise curiously. “Smooth,” she teases.

He’s still smiling at her, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “I tend to speak my mind.”

“I like that.”

“Good. Can I get you something to drink?”

She can’t help but laugh again. She likes how obvious he’s being about it. It’s bold.

“Sure,” she says, “But no alcohol. I’m on the job.”

“Ah, yes,” he grins, “We can’t have you distracted now, can we, miss Weasley?”

“Thank Merlin I have an iron will.”

He chuckles. “We’ll see about that.”

She stares straight back at him, issuing a challenge. “Don’t tempt me.”

***

The next wedding sucks.

And, no, it’s not because things didn’t work out between Blaise and her. That has nothing to do with it. It’s fine. She’s fine.

It’s not even like it lasted very long. They dated for three months, then were together for eight. That’s less than a year. Nothing to write home about.

Of course, that had been one of the biggest issues: home. She hadn’t expected her parents to be so against her dating Blaise. He continuously made a bad impression on them. It was in the way he talked, the way he walked, the things he did, the things he said… Blaise and her family just didn’t match.

She didn’t do much better with his family. Lady Zabini is an incredible woman in her own right, but she definitely can’t stand Ginny’s attitude.

But that should have been fine. If it were real, they could have worked around it. Instead, they just fell apart.

Maybe we don’t want the same things in life, was their conclusion, maybe we’re too different.

Now, almost a full year later, she can admit that maybe they are too similar. Both too stubborn for their own good. Both too fucking scared of all of it. The real commitment, the intimacy, the vulnerability. Maybe it wasn’t that it didn’t work, it was just that they weren’t…

They weren’t ready.

But how the fuck were they supposed to know that?

It doesn’t matter. It didn’t work out. It happens. It’s fine.

Ginny lifts up her camera and takes a picture of her parents, the biggest traitors in history, who are laughing and chatting with Pansy in her gorgeous white dress. Pansy managed to do what Blaise couldn’t: she completely won over the Weasleys, despite her Slytherin heritage.

It probably had something to do with Percy’s attitude as well. Percy saw the way her parents treated Blaise, and when he started dating Pansy he wouldn’t stand for that kind of behaviour. He refused to talk to them until they gave her a fair chance. Ginny remembers a family dinner which ended in a very uncomfortable screaming match. When it came down to it, Percy had screamed that it didn’t fucking matter whether Pansy was a bitch or not. She was his. And if they could accept him for who he was, they very well could except the girl he loved as well. And that was that.

That night, Ginny kept her mouth shut. She regrets that more than anything. But maybe the fact that her parents didn’t like Blaise was just the perfect excuse not to bring him home to them. Not to let him get that close.

Frustrated, Ginny grabs one of the nearby waiters and downs a flute of champagne. These days, she kinds of hates herself.

She can forgive herself for the shitshow that was her relationship with Blaise Zabini. She can forgive herself for her mistakes. She can even be proud of what she’s learned from the whole experience. She knows more about who she is and what she wants now than ever before.

She just can’t stand that she’s still so fucking sad about it.

She locks eyes with Blaise over the rim of her empty champagne flute and for a moment the world stops turning. They look at each other. He arches one of his perfect eyebrows, and she remembers the moment she told him that she doesn’t drink on the job like it happened three minutes ago. She flushes in shame.

But fuck him, honestly.

She represses the urge to flip him off, hopes she conveys the emotion with her gaze, and walks the fuck away.

She absolutely hates that they now move in the same circles more than they did before. Since Pansy and Percy got engaged, every party she’s been to has seen a number of Slytherins that she would have never been able to predict hanging out with. Moreover, they’re great. They’re fun. People are falling in love all over the place. It’s kind of beautiful. But it would be so nice to just not see Blaise for a little while.

He knows her better than she would like, so she knows he’s aware that she hasn’t been doing great since their break-up. Sure, she’s been going to therapy, which was about fucking time, and that’s been very helpful, and she’s been learning a lot about herself, but it’s all been so exhausting and it shows. It shows on her face, it shows in her art, it shows in the state of her relationships. She’s lost a bunch of friends rather suddenly, but she’s kept the important ones close-by (Luna has been an actual saint) and she thinks that’s fine for now. Weirdly, she’s grown pretty close to Percy through it all.

He’s a little bitch, of course, and doesn’t let her get away with anything, but he sticks around anyway. And that’s just how her brother is, she supposes. She’s pretty sure he’s really annoyed with her most of the time, but he’s there anyway. He picks her up for brunch. He responds to the memes she sends him. He lets her make one harsh comment about Blaise every few weeks, and if she tries to do more he tells her to stop deflecting and take some responsibility for her life. It stings, but it’s a sting she welcomes. She needs a Percy in her life.

Just one, though. That’s enough. And sometimes, she really needs a break.

She takes a picture of him now, standing with some of his friends near the back of the room. He has a good, solid smile on his face, one that makes him look like their dad, and he’s clearly enjoying himself. She’s happy for him. The ceremony went well. Pansy looks like a fucking dream. Everyone’s behaving themselves. She might actually be the biggest problem factor at the entire event, nursing her little grudges, and she feels like she’s done a decent job of keeping that under wraps.

She glances at Blaise again. He’s talking to a woman at the bar, and she hates him. She hates it. She hates this. She hates that she cares. The woman is gorgeous. Maybe she should walk over there and hit on her. That would be a double win – hot lady and sticking one to her ex.

She doesn’t like the bitterness of her own thoughts, and represses the itch to get more alcohol in her system. It’s her brother’s wedding. She’s not going to get smashed. He deserves better, and she’s definitely not going to give Blaise the satisfaction.

She points her camera at Percy again, but he’s already looking at her with a frown on his face, annoyance flashing across his features.

Ginny looks down in surprise, wondering if she spilled something on her dress or something, but she looks fine. Still, when she looks back up, Percy is stalking towards her.

He didn’t read her mind, did he? No. No, he can’t do that. He doesn’t have the… Can he do that?

“You’re doing that thing,” he accuses her when he reaches her.

“What thing? I have several things.”

They’ve done in depth analyses of all of them. Him, accusing her of being a brat. Her, impatiently explaining to him that some coping mechanisms and behavioural patterns aren’t pretty. All over a bottle of whiskey in the middle of the night.

She’d never imagined she would one day be the closest to Percy out of all of her brothers. But here they are.

Percy shoves his hands into his pockets. “The thing where you look like you’re trying to set someone on fire by sheer force of will.”

She is trying to set someone on fire by sheer force of will.

But she’s not going to admit that to him.

“Come on, you couldn’t pick out a look like that from all the way over there, that’s ridiculous. At most you saw me glaring a little bit.”

Percy doesn’t let up on his accusatory stare, so Ginny shows him the palms of her hands in defeat.

“Look, I’m trying, okay? I’m doing alright, aren’t I? I’m not bothering anyone. You’re the only one who picks up on these things. And you can’t tell me that you’re not having the time of your life. You’re practically glowing.”

He is. He looks healthier than he has in years. Pansy makes him wear fashionable glasses, and he has leaned into all the better aspects of himself since they got together. Now, having just married her, he looks proud and satisfied, like a cat in the sun.

“As you should, by the way.” Ginny nods her head in Pansy’s direction. “She looks like a dream.”

He follows her gaze. “She does, doesn’t she?”

Percy smiles like he has a secret. Ginny wants to shake him until he shares it. Instead, she focuses on how seeing him happy kind of makes her happy too.

She nudges him with her elbow. “I’m fine. I’m not setting anyone on fire. Go dance with Mrs Parkinson-Weasley over there.”

He looks back at her, but she can tell he’s already halfway to Pansy’s side. “Don’t set anyone on fire,” he warns her.

“Promise,” Ginny grins.

She doesn’t set anyone on fire after that. If she’s still thinking about it, no one else calls her out for it. She gets through the night, her brief chat with Percy fuelling her determination to be okay for him. This is not the time and place to wallow. Maybe the time for wallowing is pretty much over in general. Maybe it’s time for her to finally take the next step towards growth by letting go of some of this bitterness over that one failed relationship.

Perhaps she could meet someone new.

***

She probably would have been alright after that if it weren’t for Blaise motherfucking Zabini.

Initially, she’s off to a great start. By the end of Percy and Pansy’s wedding, she had taken one picture of Blaise, where he was smiling into the camera with his arm around Theo, and she’d given him a brief nod to let him know it turned out the way she knew he liked. He was nearly floored by the gesture, she’s pretty sure, but he nodded back. That was progress.

After that, it was almost like they could become friends. At the very least acquaintances. She had lost contact with most of their mutual friends at that point, but she ran into him when she wanted to show up for Percy. Percy had practically disappeared into Pansy’s friend group at that point. The only person he really stayed close with outside of them and his direct family was Oliver. Of course, it helped that Oliver and Marcus finally stopped bullshitting each other and admitted that their rivalry was perhaps more of a romantic-tension thing than anything else by that point.

But for Ginny it mostly meant that she spent a night every few weeks in the presence of Blaise and maybe six to ten other people. Pansy and Percy had moved after their wedding, but their new place was only slightly bigger than their former one, so there really was no avoiding each other on nights they hung out.

It helped with some of the lingering bitterness. But it also kept him in her orbit. And that just made it very clear that Blaise Zabini? He’s impossible to forget.

Every time she wasn’t annoyed with him, she liked everything that came out of his mouth. When they bantered, she felt alive. When he looked her up and down as she entered the room, she couldn’t keep herself from grinning.

She missed him.

That wasn’t new. She knew that she missed him. It didn’t mean anything. At least, it didn’t change anything. They didn’t work. She realised why. She missed him. She wasn’t falling for anyone new. The facts weren’t great, but not a threat in any way.

Except that some nights, when she was more sober than she would have liked to admit afterwards, that feeling of missing him crossed the line into exceptionally dangerous territory.

I want him, she’d admit to herself, I want him for myself again.

During nights like that, it was especially nice to have Oliver there. She could distract herself by bringing up Quidditch with Oliver and Marcus and then the night would fly by. In the end, they grew rather close.

So, yes, of course, when Oliver asked her to do the photography for their wedding, she happily agreed.

So here she is at another wedding.

Admittedly, she’s having a pretty great time. Oliver and Marcus decided to have their wedding on a small island off the coast of Scotland, underneath the wide open sky. There isn’t a theme, but, just like with Neville and Astoria’s wedding, Ginny manages to find something like a theme – freedom. Both men flew into the ceremony on their brooms. There are aerial artists at the reception. The air smells of salt and seaweed and a hearty wind has been blowing through the clusters of guests since the moment they stepped onto the island.

Some of the guests are complaining, running after hats or constantly brushing their hair out of their faces. But most of them are enjoying breathing a little deeper than normally, feeling the fresh ocean air fill up their lungs and making their minds expand beyond the walls they usually find themselves enclosed in.

The wind makes Ginny’s job a little harder, since it’s hard to catch people being photogenetic with hair in their faces, but she likes a challenge. Moreover, with conditions like these, the good shots she does take aren’t just good – they’re brilliant.

She’s caught Oliver and Marcus a couple of times, grinning brightly and holding hands. They fit each other so well that it perplexes her sometimes. Every time that happens, she feels her gaze wander, looking for the shark-eyed man who recalibrates her sense of gravity.

She tries not to. It’s just so hard not to indulge – Blaise looks like a Greek hero, briefly sequestered on some island or other while he is on his way back home to Athens. The ceremony was in the morning, at eleven, so the party is in the middle of the day. Although the sky isn’t as blue as it was this morning, instead turning a cloudy light-grey, the day is still warm and as wonderful as they could have hoped for. The island is rocks and weeds, mostly, so sand isn’t much of an issue, and since the island isn’t lived on, it’s like they’re out in a piece of wildness.

Blaise has taken off his jacket, like most of the men who are bothered by the heat and inspired by the free feeling on the island. Most of the women have taken their heels off and are walking around bare-foot. It’s like they’re all letting their hair down and taking a break from social conventions, even while politely asking after each other’s families and addressing people by their formal titles.

She catches someone teasingly calling Neville ‘professor’ and looks over to see him grinning at Hannah, who is holding Millicent’s hand. With a smile, Ginny brings up her camera and snaps a picture of them.

Then she returns her attention to Blaise.

He’s grinning with Draco and Adrian. Adrian and he are bare-footed already, and Draco is toeing of his shoes, leaning against Adrian to keep his balance. Marcus calls out a jab to them and Draco flips him off good-heartedly.

Blaise looks up and catches her gaze like he was expecting her to be looking at him.

“Gin!” he calls out, making her chest ache, “Please, this has to be memorialised!”

Ginny pushes through the pain and laughs, taking a photo of Draco stumbling around with one shoe and a stark white sock in his hand. Blaise lets out a cackle just as she takes it, and when she checks the picture her eyes are immediately drawn to the perfect, joyful expression on his face. No matter what he’s doing, she has never managed to take a bad picture of this stupidly photogenetic asshole.

The second she sees the picture, she knows she’s going to cherish it. Something about this feels right. She’s here with her friends and family, and everyone is happy, and the air is as fresh as the first day of the world.

She loves him, she realises. It’s all very simple suddenly. She loves him.

And, with that, everything doesn’t feel so right anymore. Because even though they’re all here, together, and Blaise is right there for her to smile at and touch, and she loves everyone, and she loves him, she isn’t with him. They’re just existing in the same space.

Tears blur her vision and she flinches. Panic shoots through her at the thought of everyone being able to see, so she whips her hair in front of her face with a nod and backs away from the scene, her fingers shaking. She needs more air.

Ginny walks briskly towards the edge of the party, where the people are more spread out and engaged in deep conversations. She finds a nice rock and sits down on it, pretending to look through the images on her camera while she tries to find her bearings.

Well fuck. This is just excessive, isn’t it? Love him? When the fuck did that happen?

Somewhere between spending a year in his arms and another year wanting him back, she guesses. Still, aren’t you supposed to notice when you start loving someone? She definitely didn’t start just now. So why hasn’t she noticed before?

Fuck. It doesn’t matter. It’s going to take a while for her to process this. The best thing she can do right now is gather herself up and get back to the party. She’s going to have to put this off.

Ah, crap, Percy is going to have a field day with this.

“Are you alright?”

Blaise is frowning down at her, his hands shoved into his pockets, looking wind-swept and perfect.

Of all the goddamn times for him to be considerate…

“Hm?” she says, frantically trying to get her erratic heartbeat under control.

He purses his lips. “You alright?” he repeats.

She forces a smile. “Yup. Lovely ceremony, didn’t you think?”

She couldn’t make it more obvious that she’s trying to change the subject, but if he’s in a considerate mood, then maybe-

“Cut the crap, Ginny.” He sits down beside her, cocking his head in her direction. “What’s wrong?”

Ah, hell.

“I don’t want to get into it.” She returns her attention to her camera.

He nudges her. “You can talk to me.”

There’s something weird about his voice, so she looks back up at him. The wind blows her hair into her face, obscuring him. But she can make out the expression on his face – it matches his tone.

Nervous. A little hopeful.

Her lips part in surprise, and suddenly she is all ears for whatever he has to say. The monster of hope roars up in her chest, threatening to swallow her whole.

“Why?” she asks, “Do you have something you wanted to talk about?”

Blaise freezes for a moment and then glances to the side, in the direction of their friends and family. He’s getting somewhere, though. She can tell.

“I’ve been thinking,�� he finally says, looking back at her. Now that he’s made up his mind, he completely zones in on her. From one moment to the next, it’s like the rest of the world around them doesn’t exist anymore.

He has a look on his face that she remembers very clearly. He’s hovering right on the edge of vulnerability – of letting her in. Most of their relationship had been spent dancing on that knife’s edge.

But this time, he does something that he has never done before: he takes a shaky breath and plunges right off that edge.

“Can we try this again?” he asks, his expression open and pleading, “Us?”

Something inside of her is pulled taut. “You’ve been thinking about that?”

“Yes.”

There’s no hesitation or reluctance in his expression. She traces the lines of his face with her eyes, looking for anything even remotely unsure. Despite how he may present himself, Blaise is an overthinker. He overcompensates for his insecurities by pretending to be sure about things.

But right now…

She’s learned to read him, over the years. She’s seeing nothing of that now.

He’s serious.

The corners of her mouth turn up into a smile as hope turns into elation. “Yes,” she tells him.

His gaze flits across her face, and she knows he’s looking for the same things she was looking for just now. He won’t find any. She’s never been more sure about anything in her life.

“Yes,” she repeats, reaching out to take his hand. And because he has shown her how to do it, she lets her walls down for a second and squeezes his hand. “Please.”

A smile similar to her own unfurls on his face and he grips her hand more tightly. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” she states with a nod. She starts laughing.

He reaches for her like he can’t stop himself, pressing his hand into her cheek and scooting closer towards her so he can press their foreheads together, his fingers tangling in her hair.

Ginny laughs again, so overwhelmingly happy in that moment. She turns her head to press her lips to the palm of his hand, then moves back to press her forehead square against his.

She’s still holding his other hand. She never wants to let it go.

She’s not going to.

***

“Smile,” he whispers into her cheek, his hand pressing against her lower back.

“My jaws hurt,” she complains, but her lips curve up into a smile anyway.

She listens to Blaise chuckle while she poses for the camera, trying not to flinch when the flash goes off. The photographer looks at the image for a moment and then sticks up his thumb with a grin. Ginny gives him a polite nod and turns to Blaise as he walks away.

“That shot did not need a flash.”

Blaise smiles at her and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You can lecture him tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, I’m going to be lounging in a pool in Italy,” she corrects him, brightening up at the thought.

“Tomorrow, you’ll be passed out until three,” he correct her in turn, grinning at her.

She elbows him for the innuendo she knows is in there, but he’s right. Even if they do nothing but sleep tonight, she’s going to be absolutely floored tomorrow. All of the preparations have taken a bigger toll on her than she expected, and this day is very wonderful, but also very long.

Worth it, though.

She places a hand on Blaise’s cheek, looking at him while his gaze glides over their surroundings. People seem to be having fun, at least. The twins are drunk, which is rude, she supposes, but she just thinks it’s great. Plus, it’s hilarious to see their genuine interactions with all of Blaise’s stuck-up cousins. She’s pretty sure they’ve pranked at least three of them already.

She joins Blaise in his surveillance of the scene. They’re standing in the middle of their own backyard, where a dance floor has been put out, surrounded by fairy lights that her father insisted on buying for them. She kicked off her shoes before their first dance and Blaise keeps playing with her hair, which probably looks nothing like the elegant up-do that Fleur helped her with earlier that day.

She has never been happier in her life.

Everyone is there. Every single couple she’s ever photographed for, all of their family, their friends… Even Lady Zabini has a small smile on her face now, despite her company. She insisted on paying for the entire wedding, so Blaise and Ginny decided to have it in their backyard to spite her. Although Lady Zabini has come around to Ginny since she and Blaise got back together, she’s still stupidly hoity-toity about power and status when it comes down to it, and isn’t too happy about her son marrying into the Weasley family.

Well, she’ll have to get used to it. Against all odds, Blaise is a Weasley now.

And she’s a Zabini.

She looks back at her husband – her husband – and lets that sink in for another moment. Before she’s through, one of Blaise’s cousins has come up to congratulate them personally, and she’s swept back into polite conversation. As soon as the guy leaves, she groans and scrunches up her nose.

“We should have eloped.”

Blaise fondly rolls his eyes at her. “You’re the one who didn’t want to.”

“I’m an idiot.”

I told you that you’d hate a big wedding.”

“I don’t hate it. I love it. I would just also love to sit down.”

He shakes his head at her and her gaze drifts down to the new ring on his finger. After months and months of planning, today finally came. The ceremony is over. She’s all set. For life. It’s incredible.

Blaise pulls her against himself and presses a kiss to her crown. “I told you,” he says again.

She sighs. “Fine. You were right.”

“I usually am.”

She sticks out her tongue at him. Behind her, she hears the click of a camera. She turns her head to spot the photographer, not able to resists checking whether he’s doing an okay job. But Blaise catches her and sweeps down to kiss her. He doesn’t hold back either – he kisses her thoroughly, until some of the guests start cheering and whistling at them. Then he pulls back and kisses the tip of her nose before standing up straight again with a satisfied grin.

She can’t help but laugh at him. Ridiculous, perfect man.

“Let the man do his job,” he teases her.

“I am!”

“You’re hovering.”

She gasps. “You take that back.”

“It’s true.”

“Goddammit.”

He’s right. She needs to let this go. The next wedding she attends, she’ll be able to take her own pictures again. She’ll use all of the tools she likes best and play with the light and look for the best angles. She’ll have her settings just right and will get down into the dirt to get that perfect shot. For now, she just has to enjoy her own wedding for a change. It’s going to be the last one she’ll ever have, if it’s up to her.

She smiles at her husband. “Well, then, Zabini. How about you distract me?”

“Am I a joke to you? What have I been doing for the past hour?”

“Your best, I’m sure.”

“Ohohohoho… You did not.”

He pulls her against him, making her laugh, and drags her back onto the dance floor for another lazy waltz. She presses her cheek against his chest and closes her eyes, feeling the heat of his body against hers, the thump of his heart; her favourite sound. Around them, the party goes on, filling the evening air with drunken laughter and laid-back conversations. Blaise is humming along with the song, his chin on top of her head. Everything settles into place for a brief moment.

According to some people, time isn’t real, so this moment will last forever. Even when the night passes and she gets on a plane to Italy, holding her husband’s hand. When she spends the next few weeks lounging in his arms and making him feed her grapes and bruschetta. When they wake up on a Sunday morning twenty years from now. When she’s old and brittle and every memory she’s ever had begins to fade.

She will still be right here. With him.

#blinny #blaise x ginny #ginny x blaise #hp #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #original #slytherdornet #hprarepairnet

49 notes · View notes

destiel-love-forever · 5 years

Note

Hello! I saw your post about wanting prompts.... As a cheerleader in the midst of my competition season, I've recently been itching for some kind of cheerleading au, but it's kind of hard to find. I love your work and if you find time to write something like this, I'd def give it a read!

Thank you Anon!! Here it is (:

Dean Winchester is the Angel's star quarterback. It's his senior year and he should be focused on one thing: getting a college scholarship. That's what his dad - and coach - has been telling him. Then a distraction in the form of a new cheerleader with bright blue eyes and a gorgeous body comes along and things change. Will Castiel ruin Dean's chances at a future, or will he turn out to be his lucky charm?

AO3 link:

Lucky Charm

The warm sun falls on Dean’s exposed back as he leans over his extended legs in the grass, stretching them out. He holds the position longer than necessary because of how good the lingering summer heat feels on his skin. Any day now, autumn will sweep its way into the small town and even though it’s his favorite time of year because of football, he’ll still miss the hot days out on the lake and the warm nights around bonfires with friends.

Nothing compares to football season, though. The freedom he feels out on that field. How everything melts away. And the cheerleaders. Oh boy, does he love the cheerleaders.

“Winchester,” his best friend Benny grunts, flopping down onto the field with him and beginning his stretches.

“Lafitte,” Dean says back in acknowledgment, looking over at him and grinning when he sees his best friend’s bare chest and neck is covered in scratches and hickies. “Better put a shirt on or coach will be pissed.”

Benny rolls his eyes. Dean’s dad is the coach and he’s a total hardass, but he has a soft spot for Benny. John Winchester gets a kick out of Benny, the young boy from wealthy parents, destined for greatness, no cares in the world. Sure, he gets pissed when the boy drops passes or shows up to practice hungover or late, but it’s always a few extra sprints and he’s letting it go.

Unfortunately, Dean doesn’t have the same privilege. John Winchester puts the weight of the world on Dean’s shoulders, the young boy with a widowed father, no money to send him to college, not intelligent enough for good grades, so many cares in the world he could suffocate on them. Dean’s father planned his future before the boy could even throw a football. The rage that comes out when Dean fucks with the plans is violent and terrifying.

“Where the fuck is Ash?” Benny asks, referring to their other best friend. The three of them are captains this year and John wanted them to come do drills and review plays before the first practice of the night tonight, when the entire town is welcome to come watch the season officially begin at midnight.

Dean pulls himself out of his anxious thought tornado and shrugs. “Probably getting laid. Or napping.”

“Fuck both of ya. I’m right here.” Ash throws his bag down and sits beside it, not bothering to stretch yet. Instead, he lays on his back with his four limbs spread out, soaking up the sun. “Can you guys believe school starts in a week? Senior year. I can’t wait.”

“We’re going to be kings of the school,” Benny adds.

Dean just looks over at the two of them, snorting. “We already were. But, yeah, it’ll be fun.”

Benny rolls his eyes and looks at Ash. “Someone’s being grumpy today.”

“This should cheer ya up,” Ash says with a smile in his voice. Dean looks in the direction he’s pointing and straightens his back, puffing out his chest without meaning to. It’s only a group of five cheerleaders but all five are scantily dressed and gorgeous. Especially the one with black hair and bright blue eyes, his strong legs sticking out from short-shorts in the blue color of their school. His belly button shows beneath his t-shirt he’s made into a cut off, the hem stopping where he cut through the team’s logo.

Fucking gorgeous.

“Who is that?” Dean half asks, half demands. Both of his friends just shrug, neither having any information on the new guy.

The group comes closer, since they’re sitting right next to the table set up with the water jug and the stereo. Jo, the squad’s captain, goes to the stereo and plugs her phone in like she’s going to play music. Benny, her nearly permanent on again/off again boyfriend, hops up and waves his hand in the air. “Woah, woah. No. We’re using that today during warmups.”

“Well, you can have it then, Benjamin,” she spits over her shoulder. Dean wasn’t aware they were off again, but it’s looking like that’s the case. “We have the field for the next forty minutes. We’re practicing our routine for Midnight Madness.”

“Right. Midnight Madness.” Benny walks toward her with a goofy smile as he talks about the kick off practice they have tonight. “I could drive you to that. Pick you up. Drop you off after.”

“Oh, you think so?”

They continue going back and forth, Benny’s flirting softening her up. Dean stops listening though. He can’t concentrate when blue eyes starts stretching. The boy brings an arm behind his head, grabbing his elbow and pulling, his gaze falling somewhere off in the distance. His shirt rides up and with Dean sitting on the ground he can see his rosy nipples. He licks his lips.

Something hard hits him in the side and he jumps, grunting before yelling, “What the fuck?”

Ash has a knowing smile as he wiggles his eyebrows at him. “Careful there. You’re popping a hard on.”

Blushing, Dean grumbles something generic about Ash’s mom giving him a hard on as he hurries to adjust himself. His friend laughs at him and he’s seriously considering punching him until he glances up to see blue eyes looking straight at him.

Act cool, Dean. Act cool. You’re the star quarterback of a team who won the State Championship last year. You can handle a cute boy. Act. Fucking. Cool.

“Hey,” he says with a - if he does say so himself - very casual head nod.

The boy’s cheeks turn pink and he looks at the ground. “Hey.”

High on the fact that he made him blush, Dean pushes further. “What’s your name?”

“Oh. Um.” The boy fidgets, looking at him with wide eyes. “Castiel. Cas. Castiel.” He laughs nervously. “Either works.”

“Alright, Cas. I’m Dean.”

“Hi, Dean.”

Dean gives Castiel the smile everyone tells him is charming. “You must be new? I’d remember a face like yours.”

He hears Ash whistle and say under his breath, “Smoothe.”

Ignoring his idiot friend, he waits for Castiel to respond. It takes the boy a minute. He rocks on his heels and looks at the grass instead of Dean before nodding and saying, “Yeah. New.”

“Where ya from?”

“New York.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

Dean tilts his head, having decided this is definitely his conquest for the school year. There’s an irresistible pull to the boy and they’ve known each other for five minutes. Hell, he’s not even thinking about just hooking up with him. He’d bring this boy out on a date. Dean Winchester’s first ever date.

“So, you’re a senior?” The boy nods. Dean smiles. “Nice. Me too. And you’re a cheerleader. That’s exciting.”

Castiel blushes. “Yeah. Uh, are you a football player?”

Dean laughs softly. Understatement of the year. “Yeah. Quarterback.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah. So, I guess we’ll be seein’ each other often.”

The boy bites his lip and looks over at his new friends. They’re all staring at him in wonder, probably because they’ve gone to this school long enough to know Dean’s reputation. Castiel looks back at Dean with a nervous smile. “Great.”

“Great.”

“Yes. Great,” Ash says with a dramatic eye roll. “How about we put an end to the most boring conversation I’ve ever had to endure?”

“How about the football idiots stop talking to the cheerleaders?” Jo snaps, grabbing Castiel’s hand and tugging him. She tells a girl sitting in jean shorts and a shirt, presumably a friend not on the team, to start the music when she gives the signal. Then the group all heads out onto the field.

Free to look without any risk of getting caught, Dean tilts his head to the side and appreciates the view of Castiel’s ass bouncing slightly as he hurries with the others. “Fucking hell,” he whispers in amazement.

“Oh, boy,” Ash laughs. “You’re fucked.”

---------

Castiel’s thankful that the only obligation he has for Midnight Madness is the team’s dance routine. The rest of the time he can sit with his new friends and zone out on the hot as fuck quarterback that’s prancing around in a shirt with the sleeves cut off, the slits going to the bottom of his ribcage to reveal the tanned skin beneath the fabric. His black shorts hang loose on his hips and skim the tops of his knees. He’s the opposite of Castiel. Huge muscles, flirty smile, high confidence, extremely attractive, and popular. At his old school, Castiel wouldn’t have even been on the cheer squad. He was far too shy and geeky. But he promised himself at this new school he’d reinvent himself. So here he is. And now the quarterback was flirting with him. Surely only for fun, not because he’s actually interested, but it still has Castiel flustered.

“Popcorn?” his new friend Chuck offers, pointing the bucket in his direction.

With a thankful smile, Castiel takes a few kernels and pops them in his mouth. He’s not sure how he got so lucky. Chuck’s his neighbor so when he moved in earlier this month he had an almost instant friend. It was him who convinced Castiel to go out for the cheer squad. He had great logic. It was something Castiel actually thought he’d enjoy, and their school was the perfect place for a guy to be on a cheer team, because the popular kids at the school didn’t put up with any jokes about being a fag or whatever. At the time, Chuck had said it was because the most popular guy at the school is openly gay. Now he’s burning to ask if Chuck meant Dean.

The coach blows the whistle and all the boys hurry over to the sidelines for water. Castiel watches as Dean takes off his helmet and squirts his water bottle over his head before tilting his chin back to squirt some in his mouth. Once he swallows, he shakes his head, wet hair going wild. One of his friends - the one Jo claims she hates but Castiel thinks she loves - says something, and Dean laughs. Hard. It carries through the air and Castiel shivers at the sound.

“Damn, that boy is hot,” Chuck mutters, looking in the exact same spot as Castiel.

Castiel’s stomach drops. The way Chuck said that was wistful, a tone Castiel’s used himself multiple times. The sound of a gay man appreciating a straight one. Since there’s no harm in agreeing with Chuck, though, Castiel sighs wistfully himself. “Yeah. He is.”

“Great kisser too. God, his mouth, man. I’m tellin’ ya - you haven’t been kissed until you’ve been kissed by Dean Winchester.”

Nearly choking on his second bite of popcorn, Castiel coughs and asks in a squeaky voice, “You’ve kissed him?”

“Well, jeez. Don’t act so shocked. I’m an attractive guy.”

“No. I mean, yes. You are.” Castiel doesn’t bother being embarrassed by admitting that. Within days of knowing each other, Castiel knew nothing was going to happen between them. Ever. They’re just great friends. “Dean’s gay?”

“Yeah. Well, he’s bi, actually. But yeah.”

Castiel turns his gaze to the field, stunned by the revelation. The swirl of possibility makes him ten times more nervous about Dean Winchester. It was one thing getting flustered by a straight boy being flirty but an entirely different thing if Dean is someone he could realistically be with. That makes the fear of rejection so much worse.

“Did you guys date?” he asks quietly, eyes tracking Dean as he backs up with the ball in his hand, then throws it across the field in a high arc. The ball goes toward some other boy but Castiel keeps his eyes on Dean.

“No. We were just fuck buddies for a while.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I wanted to be exclusive, to maybe try and date. Dean Winchester doesn’t do that.”

“Why?”

Chuck shrugs. “He claims he doesn’t believe in love but he’s a great guy and I don’t believe that for a second. Once you know him, you’ll see what I mean. He loves everything. One of those people that’s just completely full of life, you know? Always smiling.”

Castiel nods, still watching Dean. He can definitely see that, yes, but he has a feeling there’s much more to the story. Dean stands in front of his coach now. His helmet is on so Castiel can’t see his face, but his hands are in a constant state of clenching and unclenching by his sides. He notices that when the coach begins to yell, Dean takes the slightest step back, a shiver running through him.

“Why do you think he doesn’t date, then?” Castiel asks, wondering out loud.

“Everyone thinks it’s because of his dad. Relationships are a distraction.”

“Distraction from what?”

Chuck gestures to Dean and the coach. “Football.”

“God forbid,” Castiel mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Really god forbid, though. Dean’s getting scouted by Division 1 schools. People think he could one day make it to the NFL. A long shot, but a possibility. He’s good. Wait until you see him play.”

The coach advances on Dean and grabs the front of his jersey, yanking him forward and screaming into his face. Castiel leans forward, alarmed. “Oh my god. He can’t do that, can he?”

“Who? What?” Chuck looks in the same direction as Castiel and cringes, his frown deep. “Oh. Actually, he can.”

“Dean’s parents don’t get upset?”

The look Chuck gives him is incredibly sad. “Cas, that is his parents. His mom’s dead and his dad is right there.”

“His dad is the coach?”

“Yup. Real loving guy, hey?” Chuck shakes his head. “Wait until you see him during a real game.”

Castiel looks at the field. Dean’s getting a drink again, along with the others, but this time he doesn’t laugh afterward. He just ducks his head and places his hands on his hips, glaring at the grass in silence. Everyone gives him a wide berth. They must know better than to bother him.

Castiel knows for sure now. There’s something else lingering beneath the surface of Dean Winchester. A version of himself that’s not happy all the time. That doesn’t smile. That believes in love. That desperately wants love.

In seconds, Castiel has fallen for the boy. The boy beneath the surface.

-------

A hand hits the back of Dean’s head and he snaps his head in the direction of the person hitting him, cheeks turning red as he worries he got caught. His dad looks at him with a scowl and his eyebrows pulled in. Dean prays he didn’t notice Dean watching a certain cheerleader on the sidelines. When his dad’s eyes look over his shoulder at Castiel, he deflates.

“Somethin’ more important than the game, boy?”

“No, sir. Of course not.”

“You sure?” His dad turns to gesture at the field, where the other team is only ten yards from scoring a touchdown and tying the game. There’s only three minutes left and the Angel’s defense is exhausted. It’s not looking good. “Because the game is this way. Not that way.”

Dean bites the inside of his cheek and tries to remain calm so he can play this off. “Someone was shouting. I looked over there quick. Sorry.”

His dad just stares at him, unimpressed and probably not believing him either. The ball is snapped and a play begins. His dad leaves Dean alone to start coaching. It takes everything inside the young boy not to look at Castiel again. He gets closer to the white chalk of the field’s official edge and tightens his fists at his sides. His dad is right. He has to focus.

The opposing team scores on the next play and Dean’s gut sinks. He glances at the clock. Now there’s only two minutes and ten seconds left. It’s not impossible but it’ll be hard. As the players start to switch, Dean’s dad grabs him and yanks him close before he can run off. “This is your fault. That interception in the first could cost us this game. Go out there and fucking fix it.”

“Yes, sir.”

His dad shoves him toward the field and Dean stumbles for a second before jogging to his position. The other players start to line up. He feels sick as he waits for the ball. His dad is right, this is his problem to fix now. They can’t start the season off with a loss. Especially when the loss would be his fault.

His throat clenches and makes it hard for him to breathe. He hears the crowd shouting and the cheerleaders cheering and his dad screaming at them. The cheerleaders. Dean sucks in a breath and takes a chance, glancing over at the sidelines. The cheerleaders are facing the team right now instead of the crowd. Castiel’s in the front, right next to Jo in the center. He’s shaking his pom poms but his mouth is closed as his eyes bore into Dean. When he realizes the quarterback is looking at him, he gives a wave of a pom and a nervous smile.

The anxiety in Dean’s chest unfurls and he’s left with a floaty feeling. When he turns back to the game, he feels invincible.

-----

Castiel stands on the sidelines, anxiously waving his pom poms. His knees are wobbling in anticipation as he keeps his eyes glued to Dean’s every move. The clock is winding down and Dean’s managed to push the team down the field a good amount. They’re only thirty yards from the end zone now. The problem? There’s also only twenty-four seconds left on the clock.

The coach calls a time out and Jo orders them to spin around and do a certain cheer. He goes through the motions, forcing his eyes to stay on the audience, forcing his mouth to stay in a perky smile. The second they’re turned back around to watch the game, his face is serious again, his heart racing.

“Come on, Dean,” he whispers below his breath. “You can do it. Come on.”

The ball is snapped and Dean takes his steps backward, arm cocking in the air. His head swivels and Castiel scans the players, trying to find an open spot, praying there is one. Praying wherever it is, Dean sees it.

Castiel holds his breath when the ball is launched through the air. He watches it’s slow descent, realizing it’s heading for Benny Lafitte. The entire stadium turns quiet. It’s as if the air is charged with electricity.

When the ball lands on the ground, two or three yards further left than Benny, the opposing team cheers and the whistle blows as Dean’s dad calls another timeout. From his left, Castiel hears Chuck suck in a breath and whisper, “Shit.”

He doesn’t have to ask what’s wrong. The second Dean’s within reach, the coach is grabbing his face mask and yanking him to the sideline. The boy’s neck twists in a way that must have been painful - and quite honestly dangerous - and then the coach’s bright red face is pressing right up against the face mask as he screams. They’re close enough to hear parts and bits but too far to make sense of much of it. Castiel hears something about a ‘goddamn failure’ and ‘home.’ Something else about ‘embarrassment’ and ‘benched.’

Castiel’s eyes burn as he watches the scene. He glances around, astonished that no one cares that this coach - this father - is manhandling his son and screaming at him. When he looks at Chuck, his friend gives him a sad smile. Castiel just shakes his head, still shocked, and looks back at Dean and his dad. The whistle blows to signal the timeout is over and Castiel wonders if the man even had time to tell Dean a play or what to do. It seems he spent the entire time berating him. He says something else, something not yelled, then slams the palm of his hand twice against the side of Dean’s helmet and sends him off.

Six seconds. Final play. Too far away still to kick a field goal. “Come on, Dean,” Castiel shouts without meaning too. His cheeks burn with embarrassment but the other cheerleaders join him with words of their own. Then the Angel’s side of the bleachers start shouting encouragement at the young quarterback. Dean glances at the crowd, scanning it, then his helmet drops lower and he looks at Castiel like he did earlier. Instead of getting flustered this time, Castiel nods once, reassuring, and yells, “You can do it!”

The boy’s shoulders straighten and he turns to the team. The ball is snapped. Dean falls back. His arm is cocked. The crowd goes silent. The air becomes electric.

The ball flies through the air. Toward Benny again.

This time, it lands right in the boy’s arms. Three steps and he’s in the endzone. The crowd freaks out, jumping up and screaming. The boys on the sidelines storm the field to celebrate. The other cheerleaders are yelling and kicking their legs up in excitement. Castiel sees Jo fly away from the squad, heading straight for Benny, and something idiotic takes over his own body. One second he’s wishing he could hug Dean and the next second, he’s sprinting toward the boy with the number one on his blue jersey.

He launches himself at the boy, taking him by surprise. Dean releases a soft grunt before chuckling and returning his hug. His large arms wrap around Castiel’s bare waist, huge hands spreading across the small of his back, and he shivers at the calloused touch. One of the hands leaves so Dean can pull his helmet off. His hair is all over the place as sweat clumps it together, and sweat is rolling down the side of his face from his temple. Castiel’s mouth goes dry watching it travel down to his strong jaw. He wonders what it would taste like it.

Staring up at him in awe, Castiel accidently whispers, “You’re amazing.”

Instead of the cocky or flirty response he expects, Dean smiles softly and holds him tighter. “I’m pretty fond of you, too, Cas.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Dean leans down, slowly, making sure Castiel understands his intentions. When the cheerleader does nothing but lift up on his toes to make the journey shorter for him, he smiles and closes the distance, molding his lips over Castiel’s. Dean drops his helmet to the field so he can use the hand to cup the back of Castiel’s neck and hold him steady, his other hand increasing pressure on his back to pull him in closer. When he breaks the kiss off, he stays with their lips almost touching, so he can breathe him in. He whispers against Castiel’s mouth, “I think you’re my lucky charm.”

Castiel leans back to look him in the eyes, grinning like a total idiot. “Then I guess you’ll just have to keep me around.”

“Yeah.” Dean nods, feeling dizzy with happiness. “I guess so.”

89 notes · View notes

psychospeak-blog · 6 years

Text

Breaking Point

Warnings: Smut. Swearing. The standards.

Heavily inspired by this.

You hated the idea of it, honestly.

Female sports reporter gets together with star player.

Maybe they just flirt.

Maybe they just date.

Maybe they just bang.

Maybe they end up getting married and, the next thing you know, they've got two kids and another one on the way, and a totally curated, Instagram-worthy life.

Nope, that wasn't why you got into this at all.

It started with a love of the game. As a little girl, your dream was to become a play-by-play announcer, often turning down the sound of the television when a game was on to try and call it yourself, and practicing your "He shoots, He Scores!" every night before bed.

In high school, it sort of calmed down a bit. You still rarely missed a game, but it consisted mostly of you yelling at the T.V. or clutching your hands in nervousness as you watched during the playoffs.

It wasn't until you were a senior in high school that your realized that a reporter was what you were meant to do. Not just because you loved the game, but because you loved reading people, asking them questions that made them think in a different way, breaking down their walls just a little bit. So it would kill you to have anyone thing that you just took this job to date a hockey player. Because, honestly, you were never intending to do so. And, yet, here you were.

And it had happened so organically that you didn't even have the time to realize what was happening and resist it before it was too late.

Sometimes he was nice to you, and gave you extra time. Sometimes he was a little sassy towards you which, was truly a bit infuriating when he singled you out like that, and for awhile you thought you were annoying him. But then the next time you spoke to him he'd be nothing but generous, giving you his complete and full attention. So, you thought maybe he was just moody.

Until you were taxed with doing a special feature and your nerves went a little crazy because it was your first big gig. Nolan had just looked at you, ignoring your question and the cameras and producers behind them, placing his hand on your shoulder and turning his body so his words were shielded. "Hey, relax, it's just me. We're just two friends, chatting, and there just happen to be cameras here."

And in your head, you were just thinking he was just trying to get you to calm down. But then, afterwards, you were sitting down at the coffee shop around the corner, eating a chocolate chip cookie about the size of your head while looking over your notes, and guess who just walked in and sat down in the chair across from yours?

Yep. You had that moment like when you're a kid and you see your teacher out in public and it seems so obscure that they exist beyond school and have an actual life, so you blurted out "What are you doing here?"

He just laughed, leaning back in his chair, taking a sip of his coffee, "Friends have coffee, you know. It's like a normal thing."

Parts of your head were screaming at you that you weren't friends, not yet anyways, because all of your conversations up until that point had been work-related, but he said you were friends, so you accepted it as truth just because it came out of his mouth.

And then, on your next road trip, you were checking out a local aquarium on your off day, heading to check out the penguins, and guess who just walked in? Yep.

You made some stupid comment asking him if he was following you, and he protested immediately, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his camera roll to show you that he'd, indeed, been there for awhile. And then he said he couldn't help it if the two of you just happened to like the same places.

So you saw the penguins together. And the polar bears. And there may have been dolphins.

And he may have hugged you goodbye. But you were friends, right?

And then, the next day, after the morning skate, he came up behind you and said it wasn't fair that you got to ask all the questions, because he had a question for you. And you just looked up from your papers, thinking he was going to ask you something normal. Something work related. But he asked you what date number you liked to kiss on.

And you looked up at him and practically had to sit down because it just came out of left field, and he should not be asking you at work. "That's kind of...not really a question you should be asking me?" you said.

But he just scowled at you and ran his fingers through his hair, "I just need to know. Because, I mean, the next one is going to be our third."

"What!" you blurted out, and a couple of faces turned to look at you, so you hushed your voice, leaning your head down, "What are you talking about?" you asked in a harsh whisper.

"The coffee shop, the aquarium," he counted on his fingers, and then looked up at you, "Oh, were you counting that interview too?"

"Those were not..." you said, shaking your head, "You have to ask someone out first."

And he just said "oh" and blush forming on his cheeks and then he just up and walked away. And you were so confused, wanting to kick yourself because you'd just embarrassed him. And he'd probably done this way, way more than you, and he probably knew better than you did.

And then, of course, you had to interview him later than night. Even though they'd won, he was overly direct and almost terse with you, and you wondered if you screwed something up. He reached his hand out after to shake your hand and you just stared at it, because this was something that you didn't usually do, but he just nodded towards his hand and you shook it quickly because you were still on camera and you were looking like an idiot, but he just pressed that piece of paper into your palm and you smiled, making it look like you were just resting your hand in your pocket rather than tucking something inside.

Of course you went to the bathroom right after to read it, squinting to read his writing, which was incredibly messy and boy-ish, honestly, but you still got the point: "Will you go out with me?" and his number. You might have spent the whole night running through scenarios in your head.

You might have waited until you were on the plane, to text him nothing but the word "yes", making it look like you were just stretching your neck but really you were watching for the look on his face when he read it, and then looked up to search for you, smiling when he met your gaze.

It turns out that you didn't go out, but stayed in instead, going over to his place for breakfast because you were back in Philadelphia and knew he would be recognized right away, and you'd probably be identified pretty quickly, as well. And neither of you could seem to wait for dinner. So you walked through his building, looking around like you were in some sort of spy movie, but all the while knowing that you weren't as stealth as you might like to think you were. A little bit of it felt wrong, even though it technically wasn't against any rules, but a big part of it felt exciting and right, too.

He had pancakes from the place down the street, the place he said he wanted to take you to. But also because he really couldn't cook. And you talked, a lot, about the implications of this for you. How you didn't want him to show his favoritism towards you in the locker room or the hallway. How you were nervous about why this might affect your career. About why you got into this job in the first place.

And there was kissing. Kind of a lot of kissing, really, for your 1st or 3rd or whatever date this was, but, really, you practically saw each other every day anyways. It wasn't even particularly heated, either, just like you were were making up for all the lost time you could have been kissing each other hello and goodbye.

He did take you out, eventually, a walk through the park, followed by cupcakes on a bench overlooking a fountain, his pinky just touching yours on the bench, but casual enough to look like you'd just happened on it by accident.

You'd had a fun night at an arcade/bar, followed by an incredibly heated make-out session in his car afterwards, which ended way too quickly considering that you both had to get up in about 4 hours to head out on the next road trip. He offered for you to at least sleep at his place, just to soak up a little more alone time together but, of course, you hadn't packed yet, so you had no choice but to head home.

Which brought you to your current problem. You were in the middle of the longest road trip of the season, an extended two-week stretch.

And you saw him practically everyday. Sweating. Panting. Cheeks red with heat. He was like a big red button that said "Don't touch."

It was easy to spend time together, since you always in such close proximity, and make it seem like you were just friends or hanging out with a group. But you couldn't touch. And you really wanted to touch.

And he knew this, teasing you when you got just a moment alone, that if you just told everyone, you could kiss him whenever you wanted. Or do anything whenever you wanted, really. It was kind of a bit of contention between you. He wanted to share it, because, by now, people were catching on that he was seeing someone yet keeping that certain special someone secret. But you weren't ready yet.

Christ, you hadn't even slept together yet because of this stupid road trip you were trapped on.

It was torture.

And you hated that you weren't more organized with your packing. If only you had a bag ready to go, you could have gotten laid the night before you left. Or maybe you could have at least had the foresight to pack your vibrator.

But, you didn't, because you were too distracted by actually enjoying your time with him. So now you had no choice but torture.

And he knew it. Game 1 consisted of him answering your question with, "You know, I think if we just keep going really hard like have been, we'll be able to get some more time in the o-zone." And you could tell from the look in his eyes and the slight lift of his eyebrows at the end, that he knew exactly what he was saying.

By this point, you'd taken notice of how his eyes always lingered a little longer when you wore a pencil skirt, so you'd switched exclusively to wearing those. You'd even pulled out the big guns, opting for your black pencil skirt's sister - a little tighter around the ass, and complete with pin stripes. It was definitely nothing overt (you were professional), but enough to show him that you'd taken notice. You even made sure to wear one of the sexiest bras you'd own that day, making like you were fixing your mic as you stepped towards him with the cameras at your back, flashing him a little peek of lace. You saw him swallow on that one, adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

When you came into the room after game 3 and saw him, you literally stopped in your tracks. So much so that your camera man almost walked right into you. And he looked at you, smiling lightly like you were just clumsy and forgot how to walk or something. "You alright?" he asked, "Ready to go?" "Uh...I...uh.. don't you want to put a shirt on first?" you asked, clearly frazzled. He was just standing there in shorts, a towel hanging around his neck. His cheeks were flushed and his hand was wet with sweat, and you could see in your peripheral vision that his chest was red too, all the blood rushing to the service.

"Nah, I'm comfortable like this," he said so easily that it made you almost want to kick him in the balls. You probably would have, except that might also mean taking the risk of injuring him and possibly delaying the sex even further. You had to remind yourself throughout the entire interview that you could do this. That you were a profession. Look him in the eyes, Y/N, focus on his forehead so you don't get distracted by his nipples. And, whatever you do, do NOT look at his abs or check to see if he has sex lines.

Somehow you managed to make it through, until he held out his hand for you to shake (because that was a thing you did now), and he took it, making like he was shaking it but really moving his thumb in a firm line across your palm. You were pretty sure you whimpered because you felt it right between your legs. By the end of the first week, you'd come up with a brilliant idea for your interview time after their practice. A fun piece about packing, that took advantage of the fact that this was an extended road trip. And your boss loved it, because fans always ate up these kind of fun, lighthearted pieces that got to show a little bit of the players' personality.

You moved through your list of other players quickly, keeping Nolan for last, asking them all the same question, "What's the one thing you always forget to pack?"

The answers were pretty standard - a phone charger (have to try and steal somebody's else's), sunglasses, socks.

When it was Nolan's turn, you repeated the question. You were pretty sure you were grinning so brightly, but you didn't care. Honestly, he seemed a little surprised with the question.

"What do I always forget to pack?" he whispered under his breath, "Um, I'm a pretty good packer, honestly."

Well, that would make for a great segment. "You don't ever forget anything?" you prodded, silently begging him to just say something, say anything. "I mean, I used to always forget shampoo, but now I don't even try to bring it anymore. I just use whatever's in the hotel. Body wash, too."

And now you were picturing him in the shower. Naked, water running all down his...

"Great!" you said enthusiastically, and both Nolan and the camera man were looking at you a little curiously, and you thought maybe he was actually answering that one honestly and not trying to get you to imagine him in the shower. Professional. Be professional, "And what's one thing you must always pack?"

"Uh, I mean, probably my Ipad for movies and stuff." "Okay, great," you said, "I think we're all done here then." The camera man nodded at you and started packing up. "Thanks, Nolan," you said, because that's what you were supposed to say, as you walked over to where you'd left your notes.

"Uh, yeah, sure. No problem."

You picked up your papers, purposefully holding them with a lose grip so a couple fluttered to the ground. As you crouched down to pick them up, Nolan appeared next to you, just like you knew he would, helping you gather them.

"You know what I always forget?" you asked, your voice at a normal tone. "No, what?"

"Underwear," you said under your breath, so no one but him could hear you, gathering the papers back up and standing up, returning your voice to normal, "I always have to go the second half of the trip without."

There was that visual swallow again, his eyes even widening this time too. "Hey Nolan, would you mind showing me how you want your sticks cut down?" an equipment manager interrupted, his eyes noticing you, "Oh, sorry, were you done with him?"

"Yeah, yep," you answered. You watched Nolan's eyes dart back and forth, like he was trying to decide what to do, but, eventually, he followed the equipment manager.

You went to the bathroom after that, only because you needed a place to freak out in private, washing your hands slowly to enjoy the feeling of the cool water against your skin. You emerged, and were pulling your phone out of your pocket to check the time, wondering if you had time to head back to the hotel and get changed and grab a coffee before you were supposed to meet with the producers, walking through the hallway as you did so, when a hand reached out from behind a door, grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside.

Your heart was beating wildly until you realized it was Nolan who now had you shoved up against...something...in this dark room, and then it sped up again for an entirely different reason. He wasn't doing anything, not really, just had his palms pressed against your hips, his face inches from yours, and you could hear him breathing rapidly, his eyes darting back and forth in his head like they couldn't quite focus just yet.

" What are you doing?"

He didn't say anything, just sinking to his knees before you, which really was a lovely sight quite honestly. You blinked in disbelief, your eyes adjusting to the dark light to see that you were in a janitor' s closet. You gasped as Nolan's hand settled between your knees, his hand upwards, parting your legs as much as your skirt allowed. "I'm checking to see if you're telling the truth," he said, looking up at you through his lashes, "that's good journalism, right?"

"I mean, I'm not.." you panted. Words, you needed words. But what were words anyway?

All you knew is that you were suddenly thankful that you, in fact, wren’t wearing panties. Not because you thought something was going to happen. But because you were tired of ruining another pair at just how wet you kept getting in his presence.

You were shuddering by the time he reached your inner thigh, so close, but he sweeper it around your legs quickly at the last second, growling when he grabbed a handful of your bare ass.

He moved back just as quickly as he had moved in, sitting back on his heels, and you couldn't help but take notice of the bulge forming in his shorts. You watched as his jaw went slack, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick his bottom lip, and your knees went weak.

And then he was standing up slowly, and your head leaned back just a little in frustration, annoyed that he was literally right there and yet hasn't touched you, not even a little.

But once he was back on his feet, he slammed against you so hard that something fell off the cart you were leaning against. His hand grasped the back of your head, pulling you to him as he completely devoured you. He moved his leg between yours and you wanted nothing more than to ground yourself down against his hard thigh, but this stupid, stupid skirt was way to tight. You heard yourself make a little noise and weren't sure if it was from frustration or from how goddamned good his tongue felt against yours.

"Fuck," he breathed hard when he pulled away from you, attacking your neck with his lips, "you're driving me crazy."

"Me?" You inhaled quickly, your body preparing itself for his lips being attached to yours again, "I'm, like, going insane."

He kind of looked at you for a moment, eyes searching yours. You knew you sounded needed, but he looked just a desperate, so you gripped his shirt, pulling him hard to you.

"Mmfp...you're gorgeous," he mumbled against your lips, breaking away from you. His hands grazed you sides, slowly sinking to his knees again. "So sexy." He didn't even do anything once he got there, just held the skin about your hips, turning head and laying his cheek against where your blouse tucked into your skirt. You couldn't tell if he was just resting his head against your pubic bone because he needed a moment, or if he was just trying to be as close to you for as long as possible.

After what seemed like several minutes but was probably only a few seconds, his hands started to roam, edging to the top of your skirt and running around the band. "Is there a zipper on this thing?" He asked against the fabric of your skirt. "Mmmm..yeah, yeah," your fingers went to the hook and eye clasp on the side, undoing it surprisingly easily even though your hands were shaking, You went for the zipper next, but his strong hands pushed yours out of the way, sliding it down himself. Rather than pulling it off, his hands just went to the bottom and pushed it up, the fabric gathering above your hips like he couldn't get the offending garment out of the way fast enough. And he just sat there, staring up at you bare for him, eyes wide, one hand slowly coming up to rest on the outside of your thigh. "Nolan..." you said needfully.

"Shh...shhh..." his fingers came just to play between your lips, your fingers going to grip his shoulder hard, the words "God" and "please" just shooting through your mind, but only a small sound came out of your mouth. You gripped your hand around his shoulder even harder, digging your fingers into the skin, and that seemed to be the right move, because you were rewarded with a thick finger being pushed slowly into you, your head leaning back, letting out a low and slow moan.

"Sh...." he whispered again, keeping his finger inside you but running his hand up and down your inner thigh slowly like he was trying to calm you down, "Gotta be quiet." You nodded helplessly, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth, because that was likely the only thing that was going to give you any hope at staying quiet at this point.

His hand just stayed there, but he rubbed your clit lightly with his thumb, looking up at you the whole time, like he was trying to check to see if you could handle it. You could hear, as well as feel, just how wet you are. He made a little noise of appreciation, his eyes dropping as he added another finger, curving them within you, rubbing your swollen clit in circles just a little harder and faster. Your legs were already shaking, your hips grounding down harder around his hand. His other hand came quickly up your body, hurriedly unbuttoning your blouse, just where it stretched across your breasts, revealing your bra. "Fuck," he breathed, standing up quickly, and you whimpered at the loss of his hands. But then he was gripping one breast, and you were positive he could feel your swollen nipple against his hand, even through your bra. His head dropped, mouthing at the skin that was exposed just over your bra, swearing again. You gasped when he thrust his tongue into your mouth again, smashing his lips against yours. "Mmm...there are so many things I want to do to you," he said, breaking away and kissing your hurriedly again, only to pull back and move down your body again, hand curving over your ass, "But there is not enough time or space."

You looked down at him on his knees again, cheeks red and lips swollen. "There's a lot of things I want to do to you, too."

"Fuck," he grumbled out unexpectedly, shaking his head, "don't, don't say stuff like that."

You could feel him panting against your thigh, lips moving upwards over your sensitive skin, licking a strip up your slit, your head arching back, your mouth opening with a moan. His fingernails dug into your side quickly in warning, and you lifted your head back up, your eyes fluttering and lips pursed together as you concentrated hard on not making any noise, your breath coming out in little pants. You were gripping his shoulder hard again, just trying to stay upright, his tongue licking over your entrance, and you felt yourself throb around his tongue. Hard.

He made another little noise under his breath, pushing your hand away, gripping your thigh and tossing it over your shoulder, diving back in. You were so far gone at this point, you honestly didn't give a fuck in that moment if your boss, or an entire camera crew walked in for that matter, just so long as he didn't stop what he was doing. Your hand which had been on his shoulder went for his hair, half because you felt like you needed something solid for balance and half just to ensure that he stayed right where he was. You gripped his hair, using your fingers to brush it back from his face. His eyes were slid shut, like he was enjoying this just as much as you were.

His nose pressed hard against your clit as he moved, his lips coming to settle around it. He was moving his lips all around the swollen bundle of nerves, and you couldn't help but moan when he began tonguing it. Your hips were rolling against his face, pressing against his chin, and two fingers thrust into you hard, causing you to pull his hair a bit. It was almost too much, your hand looking for anything to grab onto, white knuckling the handle of the cart your were pressed up against. He only pushing into you harder, and you shifted so his fingers hit that spot within your walls, pushing back down against his fingers, mouth and tongue. You were whimpering softly, shaking all over, that hand that was in his hair coming to grip your own breast, hard enough that it might leave marks, just to keep from making obscene noises as you starting cumming in waves, legs going weak. He gripped your leg harder, holding you to him, curving his fingers as your walls spasmed around them, mouth circled around your clit, giving you little licks throughout the whole thing.

Eventually, your body relaxed, his fingers slipping out of you easily, his tongue lapping at you easily. Even though you were impressively quiet, you still didn't feel like you could talk, so you pushed helplessly at his head, dropping your leg from his shoulder, feeling your shaky legs under you. "Nolan," you pleaded, voice feeling weak as you tried to push him from you.

He pulled back only to speak, looking up at you, lips wet and swollen, hand still gripping your leg "Let me clean you up. You don't have any panties..."

You breathed out a weak "oh god," your eyes rolling back in your head. Even though his tongue was soft and gentle against you, several more shockwaves ran throughout your body. He finally released you, and you were certain you looked absolutely wrecked, but he was looking up at you with heat in his eyes. You dropped to your knees, climbing over his lap and kissing him with renewed fire, feeling just how turned on he was against your thigh. You tried to push him back, because you needed to get horizontal, but he held your shoulders steady, keeping you seated upwards, his face looking pained. "As much as I want to," he spoke, his hands holding your arms hard, "I really don't think our first time together should be on the floor. In a closet."

You sighed, because even though you agreed, it was still incredibly frustrating. You inched back, your hands sliding to the tops of his shorts. "Well, let me...." "No," he said harshly gripping your wrists but then softening when he saw your expression, and laughed self-depreciatingly. "I honestly don't think I can hold back if you touch me," he admitted, "So I think it's just better if you don't, for now.." You stood up slowly, gripping each other and both on shaky legs, trying to adjust your skirt. He looked at you softly, lovingly, and kissed you gently, not like he had just given you an incredible orgasm. His hands were running through your hair, trying to fix it, butting up those three buttons he'd undone on your shirt, gentle fingers dancing against your sternum. He moved back slowly, like he didn't want to, breathing deeply, sweeping one last strand of hair away, "I just wanted to give you something to take the edge off," his finger ran down your neck, and off your body, "Seriously, I have so many plans for you once we get home and I get you in my bed."

You almost felt like you were going to cry, "But that's a whole week away," you pleaded, full well knowing that it would be far too impossible for you to try actually get in a bedroom together, with the whole team, the staff, your bosses, all staying in the same place.

He kind of laughed under his breath, kissing your cheek but keeping his body strategically off your, his lips going to your ear, "Hey, call me tonight. After you get in bed. We'll see if we can take the edge off just a little bit more." Your knees went weak, gripping the wall, watching him disappear back into the hall.

#hockey imagines #hockey smut #hockey imagine #hockey one shot #nhl smut #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nolan patrick imagine

1K notes · View notes

sunsetcurve · 6 years

Text

Just What Best Friends Do

Request: ooh can I request a bree/skylar fic? maybe they're trying to keep them dating a secret from the EF and hilarity ensues? > by @its-tuscan-bean

Summary: Keeping a relationship a secret is hard. Especially when three of your friends live in the same apartment. Especially when your brother seems to notice everything. Bree and Skylar do their best.

Relationships: Bree/Skylar, Minor Chase/Kaz

Rating: Teen for minor swearing

Word Count: 1,623

A/N: I love this request! I don’t write fluff or humor all that much, so it’s a little out of my comfort zone, but I think I did alright. I think you’d be a better judge of that, though, lol. I took advantage of the fact that everyone in a Disney show is a terrible liar, and somehow no one ever questions it...anyway, I also threw a bit of Chase/Kaz in there too, so I hope that’s okay. Enjoy!

***

It all happens so fast, almost too quickly for her to comprehend, and that's ironic, because--hello, superspeed. But one minute they're sitting on the couch, watching Titanic together because Skylar has somehow never seen it before, and Jack's hands are around Rose's waist and she's flying and there's this great crescendo in the music--and then Skylar is kissing her.

It catches Bree by surprise, so much so that she almost jumps back, because holy shit, Skylar is kissing her and what is she supposed to do?

Kiss her back, stupid, the little voice in her head nags, and so she does. She kisses Skylar, softly, and still with everything inside of her that's been pent up forever now. She brings her hand up to cup Skylar's cheek, run through her hair, and everything seems to slow down for just a moment, like in the cheesy romance films Adam pretends he doesn't watch. When they finally pull apart, she takes a breath, inhales Skylar's scent, Skylar's everything.

"Is that my mango shampoo?" is the first thing her brain figures out how to say, catching the fruity aroma that lingers on the superhero's dark curls.

"Maybe...?" Skylar shrugs, drawing out the word. When Bree raises an eyebrow, she says, "Oh c'mon, it smelled so good, I couldn't help myself."

Bree can't help herself; she breaks into laughter. It's half out of joy, and half out of relief because they've just kissed, but nothing's changed, and maybe that's what she's been afraid of this whole time. Well, that, and--

"So, how do you want to tell the others about this?" she asks Skylar after a moment. "I mean, assuming there's--something to tell, if you want there to be..." she trails, her voice lifting hopefully.

"Of course I want this to be something," Skylar says, taking Bree's hands in hers over the pile of blankets on the couch. "But...I don't know if we should tell the others just yet. With everything that's going on, Roman and Riker, the other superheroes..."

" And Oliver," Bree finishes for her.

Skylar nods slowly. "He's a good guy, Bree, and he's been through a lot recently. I don't want to do that to him right now. Besides, it'll mess up the whole team's dynamic..."

"Okay, I get it," she says finally. "If you don't feel comfortable telling them, we don't have to. It'll just be...our little secret."

"Our little secret," Skylar repeats, and then she beams, and in all honesty, that smile is worth hiding the world.

***

At first, it's not all that difficult. The boys are wrapped in a world of their own, and Skylar and Bree are already constantly with one another, so no one bats an eye if they disappear once in a while.

The trouble is keeping the little things hidden. More than once, Bree curses her brother's uncanny perceptiveness, because he just seems to notice everything.

Like, they're in the elevator, fingers intertwined, and the doors open very suddenly and they don't even have time to realize that the rest of the team is there before Chase says, "Why are you guys holding hands?"

Skylar blinks, but Bree holds their locked hands up and says quickly--maybe too quickly, "We're best friends, Chase. Best friends hold hands all the time. Don't you ever hold hands with your friends?"

Chase scoffs. "No. Dudes don't hold hands."

"Then...why were you and Kaz holding hands during the Star Wars marathon?"

Her brother goes red to the tips of his ears and exchanges a quick, furtive look with Kaz, whose eyes have gone very, very wide. "Because, uh--" he gapes like a fish for a moment, and then grabs Kaz's hand. "Because best friends hold hands all the time!" He gives his angelic-innocence grin and jerks a thumb behind him, "We're gonna take the stairs." With that, he darts off so fast that his sneakers skid on the floor, yanking Kaz behind him.

Bree and Skylar exchange looks and dissolve into laughter, and then Oliver steps into the elevator with them, his brow furrowed. "You guys don't think there's something going on between them, do you?" he asks, eyes still focused on where they'd just run away. "I mean, they'd tell us, right? They have no reason not to tell us. That would just be dumb."

Bree drops Skylar's hand quickly and gives a short, very convincing laugh. "Yeah, totally. So...dumb."

Oliver looks at her funny, and she purses her lips together. "Uh, we're just gonna get off here," she says, plastering an innocent smile over her face. "Bye!" And then she grabs Skylar's hand and tugs her out of the elevator just as the doors begin to close.

"Sometimes I think you and Chase are more alike than you think," Skylar teases when Oliver disappears and Bree exhales a sigh of relief.

"Shut up," she replies simply, punching Skylar's shoulder and leading her towards the stairs.

***

All in all, Bree thinks she's done a fairly good job at keeping their secret. She successfully manages to avoid Chase's prying questions and to keep herself from hitting Oliver every time he (desperately, almost creepily) tries flirting with Skylar, and it's not easy, but she'd slay dragons for her girlfriend. So this is nothing.

But all it takes is one slip-up, and their plan, much like what seems to be most things in Bree's life, goes south very quickly.

In retrospect, she probably should pay more attention to what she's doing, but over the past couple weeks, there are a few things that have just become natural around Skylar.

So it's just reflexive that day after a successful mission, when she approaches her girlfriend. "Good job, babe," she says, and, without even registering that she's doing it, brushes her lips swiftly against Skylar's.

Oliver's jaw drops.

"Babe?" Chase demands.

"Babe?" Skylar echoes, eyes wide with shock.

"Shit," is all Bree can find the words to say.

And then Kaz starts laughing, and Chase says, "Language!" in an affronted manner that makes Bree roll her eyes.

"Oh, don't pretend you never curse, Captain America," she fires back, and Oliver holds up his hands in a wait gesture.

"Can we get back to the 'babe', please? And the--kissing?" He sounds distraught.

Chase nods his agreement. "Uh, yeah. Explain. And if you say, that's just what best friends do, I'm going to lose it," he warns.

Bree locks eyes with Skylar, who presses her lips together and sighs slowly. "Okay, fine. Bree and I are...kind of...dating?"

Kaz's eyes narrow just a little. "Kind of?"

"We're dating," Bree says, with a little more conviction, and her eyes sweep over Chase's raised eyebrows, the mixture of bewilderment and hurt on Oliver's face, and Kaz's squint and titlted head, as though he's trying hard to see something.

There's a beat of tense silence in which Bree's stomach does backflips, and then Chase says at last, "Finally."

This catches her by surprise. "Finally?" she repeats.

He huffs a laugh, dropping onto their couch. "Uh, yeah. Look, I'm no master of romance, but even I could tell," he says, rolling his eyes with the hint of a fond smile curving his lips upward.

"Hold on, you knew?" Oliver demands, like he's been betrayed, and Chase shrugs his shoulders.

"I had a hunch."

The superhero turns back to Bree and Skylar, his nose wrinkled slightly as though he's trying to wrap his head around this. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"We didn't want this to change anything with the team," Skylar says gently, putting a hand on his arm. "We were worried it would make things tense, or awkward--"

"More awkward than this?" Kaz grins from his seat next to Chase on the couch. Skylar, Bree, and Oliver give him matching glares, and he ducks his head and coughs. "Sorry. Continue."

"With everything that's going on," Bree makes a vague sort of gesture with her hand, "we were worried it would mess up the team's dynamic."

Oliver nods slowly. "I guess...I guess that makes sense," he exhales.

Skylar slips her hand into Bree's and squeezes it gently. Chase looks at them, his expression thoughtful, and says, "You guys know you don't have to keep secrets from us, right? We're better as a team--and as friends--if everyone's honest with each other."

Bree looks at Skylar, who nods her head. "Okay. No more secrets."

Kaz claps his hands together and stands up. "Well, I'm happy for you guys," he smiles. "You make a good couple."

"Agreed," Chase nods, following him up to their room.

Oliver lingers for a moment, opening his mouth and then shutting it again, as though he's trying to decide what to say.

"Oliver, I'm so-"

He shakes his head immediately. "You don't have to apologize, Skylar. It's okay. I mean, yeah, it hurts, but..." he locks eyes with Bree for a second, and then his gaze returns to the alien girl, "as long as you're happy, so am I. I'm glad you guys found each other."

Skylar smiles. "Thank you, Oliver. That means a lot," she says, and Oliver nods before going to join the boys upstairs.

That leaves the two girls to collapse onto the couch, Bree curling against Skylar's side, her head on her girlfriend's shoulder. "That went better than expected," she comments with a soft, content sigh.

She feels Skylar nod. "Yeah. They actually seemed really cool with it. And Oliver didn't take it too hard." Bree can hear the relief in her voice as she looks up at the superhero.

"I'm glad we don't have to hide anymore," she smiles.

Skylar works her fingers into Bree's hair. "Me too." There's a brief pause. "So what happens next?"

"We..." Bree humms in thought, and then a grin spreads across her face, "we could figure out a way to get Chase and Kaz to realize they're in love with each other?"

The alien's eyes glint mischeivously. "I bet I can get them to admit it first."

"Oh you are so on."

126 notes · View notes

kootenaygoon · 5 years

Photo

So,

Her name was Becca, and she was nothing like Paisley.

It was a Monday evening in early March 2016 and we’d driven down to the Pacific Ocean in the dark to sit on weather-beaten Adirondack chairs and swap stories about our artistic ambitions. We squinted at the blinking lighthouse in the distance with our hoodies up while waves crashed and slithered amongst the barnacles below. Becca was my first-ever Tinder date, an ultra-voluptuous blonde who literally bounced with positive energy, and it seemed like she was legitimately into me. As I stood gazing at her mixed media pieces, hung all over her Victoria living room, I couldn’t help but compare her to my ex. In almost every relevant way, she was the complete opposite of the woman I’d just finished devoting half a decade of my life to.

“Where did you get all these words in the background of your paintings?” I asked, leaning in close to read them. “Do you source them all from the same place?”

“John Grisham novels.”

I snorted. “Really? That’s so random. What’s the relevance there?”

“I just get a kick out of John Grisham novels, that’s all.”

A few hours earlier I’d been bored at my sister’s house, jonesing for pot but determined to take a few days off, when I came across Becca’s profile. In one of her photos she was sprawled across the hood of a car in an intriguingly short dress, while in another she crouched like a rap star, flipping her blonde hair to one side. She was thoroughly West Coast, with environmentalist sensibilities, and her energy was contagious even through a screen. I found images of her posing with signs that read “OIL FREE COAST” and “UNITED AGAINST ENBRIDGE”. One mixed media piece simply said: “LIFE’S DOPE”. I knew that I was still an emotional disaster zone but figured at the very least we could have some fun. She just seemed like a good person to know.

Back in the Kootenays, things were in flux. Part of me was ready to give up and head back to the coast, the other part was hopelessly addicted to being a Nelson Star reporter. I’d never felt more professionally fulfilled than working under Greg, and I had a huge amount of respect for Ed and Kai. We’d begun having team editorial meetings, mapping out our ambitions and refining our story lists, and I loved sitting around a table with journalists I respected. Not only that: we had just received news that the Carpenters were preparing to transition out of the job, so I figured all I had to do was hold on for a few more months and all my workplace angst would float off into the ether. Their exit would be a giant boon to my mental health, and I greedily envisioned a future where I was free of their meddling bullshit. It wasn’t comfortable, how much I hated them, and it was turning me into someone I didn’t like.

Meanwhile I’d found temporary housing with Niles, who had chosen to forget our spat over coverage of his pot dispensary. I emailed him desperate the day Paisley asked me to move out, and received a reply almost immediately.

“Love’s a bitch, then you move in with your wing nut pal. Consider your pillow fluffed, buddy!”

Becca loved hearing my stories about Nelson, especially ones that featured weirdos or freaks. I knew that she would fit in perfectly, though she’d never been there before, and I regaled her with tales of everything from the Andrew Stevenson bank robberies to my experiences at Shambhala. The one downside of my whole adventure was that I’d become stupidly addicted to cannabis, and it was messing with my ambitions. I wanted to get control of the situation, mostly because I didn’t want to be enslaved by my cravings but also because my financial situation was absolutely fucked. She giggled at my earnestness as we lay facedown on her bed.

“I quit smoking for a few months there. It’s really hard for the first few weeks, then it gets way easier.”

“I haven’t made it more than a couple days since I got to Nelson. Paisley and I kept trying to quit but we never could. We were fucking hemorrhaging cash and begging our parents for help all the time.”

“So how long has it been since you smoked now?”

I thought about it. “Almost 24 hours.”

She laughed. “Well, I’ve got some really awesome bud here if you change your mind. I won’t judge you.”

I was ashamed by own relief. It was one thing to crave escape when I was feeling like shit, but these days I couldn’t even enjoy the moments that were good. Here I was totally enraptured by this girl’s presence and stoked on my chances of engaging with her physically, and still I was hung up with my own mental gymnastics. I kept telling myself it wasn’t a real addiction, it was just a dependence, but the fact was my body went into panic mode without it. My mind was a barren landscape that only cannabis could populate with greenery.

Becca straddled my lap while she lit the joint, letting her body roll in sultry undulations. She wasn’t shy or coy; she had an overwhelming personality and wasn’t afraid to deploy it. It felt like being under the spell of a shaman or a genie. In a way, it was like hooking up with a female version of myself.

Between tokes we kissed aggressively, surging into each other, while I dragged off her clothes.

“Wait,” Becca said, as I yanked at her bra. “I feel like I’m being mauled.”

I stopped, breathing hard, while she took another toke. “You shouldn’t just paw away all intense like that, you know? You gotta make a little show of it.”

My consciousness was just beginning to soften as she hooked her thumb under one strap and let it drop to her elbow. She had a look on her face like she’d just swallowed a spoonful of ice cream. She playfully murmured a little ditty, wagging her barely concealed tits in my face, letting the cups droop off her chest to expose nipples that looked like dark pink chocolate chip cookies. I lunged towards them hungrily but she pushed me back with one hand, amused at my enthusiasm.

She enjoyed telling me no.

“We’re not doing this your way,” she said. “We’re doing it my way.”

The Kootenay Goon

0 notes

thatlongspringnight · 7 years

Text

Important Lessons Ch. 5

Oh my dears. So sorry for the delay, but here it goes! Thank you for continuing to come back to this fic chapter after chapter, and here is chapter 5.

Ch. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

You shifted uncomfortably in your pencil skirt, glancing up at the clock with more than a bit of anxious energy.

Only five more minutes until freedom.

Today had been a speech day, and a speech you had given, dolled up and stern, hoping to portray the businesslike air necessary for all the recommendations your teachers had been giving you.

Graduation was fast approaching.

Soon enough you’d be free, with a degree, thrust into the workforce like a bird being pushed out of its nest.

Exciting and terrifying stuff.

You tapped your pen in a rhythm against the desk, completely zoned out as class continued. Honestly, you had managed to push aside many of your personal problems in favor of educational ones this last week.

You hadn’t even found time to really feel shell shocked about Oichi’s request, or to really put much thought into what that meant for your relationship with Saizo.

Whatever.

So what if Sanada Yukimura and Oda Oichi were dating? So what if you were having sex with your professor? So what if you were in love with your professor and he wasn’t willing to feel the same way?

Not important. School was what was important.

So, that had all been pushed to the back of your mind, school winning out, as it always had. If that left certain crimson-eyed professors feeling out of sorts you really didn’t know.

Although maybe you hoped he was.

After all you had told him point blank you couldn’t meet with him until after this speech was over and done, and he had given you his trademark smirk and wished you all the best, as though he wouldn’t even miss you at all.

And you had done a good job of keeping your word, not that it was particularly difficult, although you couldn’t help but see him in class, not that you minded.

You didn’t mind, in fact every time you laid eyes on him you felt your self control crumble just a bit more.

Wait did that mean that you did mind?

In fact, you had gotten so bad you all but ducked into classrooms or ran down halls to avoid him, and you were sure that he had noticed.

Almost positive considering that look he’d given you during class the other day, with an eyebrow raised on his beautiful face, his crimson eyes glittering in amusement.

You hummed softly to yourself, maybe he was still on campus and you could pop in and visit him? Now you were done and nothing could stop you, after all.

It didn’t matter if he missed you, because you missed him, and that is what mattered to you.

So at the first sign of weakness from your communications professor you all but dashed out of the classroom, your body eager and filled with anxious energy.

And you ran right into a very familiar face.

“Yukimura!” You pulled away from the very, very firm chest you found yourself pressed against, meeting the gaze of the flustered sports-star. “Sorry about that.”

“Ah, n-no, its fine. Its...uh...my fault?” This poor boy. Really, how Oichi hadn’t eaten him alive at this point was beyond you. Better to change the subject.

“Its nice to see you again” You smiled at him, trying to diffuse the awkwardness in the air.“Do you have class in here?”

“No, I was waiting on Sai-, I mean Professor Kirigakure.” He rubbed the back of his head and you nodded, Saizo did not have a class in here, so you weren’t sure why he was waiting for him at this specific spot.

“Ah, I see.” You rocked on your heels, thankful for the flats that had replaced the heels you had been wearing for the presentation. “Does Professor Kirigakure have a class in here?”

“Oh, er, No.” Yukimura shook his head, his blue eyes shining in the light of late afternoon. “This is where we meet before practice.”

“Practice?”

“Yeah! Kendo. We have an intramural club and he sponsors it. “ You stared at him, surprise evident on your face. Yukimura played intramurals on top of actual soccer? That was some dedication for sure.

More than that.

Saizo sponsored the Kendo club?

The fact that you didn’t know that rubbed you the wrong way. There was still so much you didn’t know, had a feeling you weren’t meant to know. Although kendo felt like such a small thing to keep hidden...

Should you get going before he arrived?

As much as you wanted to see him, if he hadn’t’ told you, maybe he had a reason? You worried your bottom lip, rolling the skin between your teeth. You could always try and catch him tomorrow.

“Oh, well I will leave you to that.” You smiled at Yukimura, trying your best to not let the disappointment show, “I’ll see you this weekend right? Oichi invited me to hangout with you guys.” Before he had a chance to respond another voice cut through.

“What do we have here?” Smooth and slightly exasperated, it could belong only to one man. You felt a flush grow up your cheeks. A hand ghosted your shoulder as he walked up and you glanced at him, unable to stop a smile from taking over your face..

“Saizo!” Yukimura grinned, seeing his teacher seem to melt from the shadows.

“Professor Kirigakure.” His name was like silk on your lips, and you couldn’t help that hint of longing out of your tone. “Its nice to see you outside of class.”

“Students 1 and 2.” He stood, arms crossed, leaning against the wall, the definition of sex appeal. “I didn’t realize you had an interest in intramural sports.” That was directed at you.

“I don’t really, sir.” You confessed. “I bumped into Yukimura after my class got out.” You pointed at the now very empty classroom. “I was just about to go.”

“Were you? A shame. Our team could use more girls.” He was as distant and bored as you expected, even with Yukimura’s clear boundless energy. “Although you certainly aren’t dressed for the part.”

“I had a speech to perform. Unfortunately, professional dress was required.” you lifted your hand, revealing the heels you had been wearing. “Not the best for kendo, I would imagine.”

“You’d probably be good at it, though!” Yukimura grinned at you, obviously more relaxed in Saizo’s presence, his blue eyes almost as captivating as his dazzling smile. “You seem pretty quick on your feet. If you had a change of clothes, I think we’d make you try out.”

“Oh really?” You slid into a stance, mimicking holding a sword. “I’m not sure you’d want to do that, I bet I could beat you.” You really doubted it, but he was infectious.

“Yukimura can you go get the room set up for practice?” Saizo asked, seemingly ignoring your statement. “I’ll do my best to convince her to join in your absence.”

“I gotcha! I’ll get everything ready!” Yukimura nodded, shooting a thumbs up before dashing down the hall.

And then you two were alone

You looked up at him, your bottom lip drawn again between your teeth. The hallway was empty. You were alone. He seemed to notice your train of thought, a chuckle being drawn from his lips as his hands snaked around your waist, yanking you to him.

“S-Saizo!”

“That’s my name, Should I remind you that we’re still at school?”

“H-Huh?” “Should you be calling me Saizo so openly here?” His lips pressed against yours, hard and bruising. Hot.

Your hands grasped at his shirt as he kissed you, desire bubbling in your stomach as you leaned against him. Soon enough he pulled away and allowed you to settle against him, leaving you staring into his eyes in confusion.

“Why’d you stop?” It clicked before he deigned to respond. “Sorry...Professor Kirigakure.”

“Good girl.” He pushed your hair out of your face. “I take it you must have done well with your speech.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well for one, little lady, you didn’t run away from me like you have been doing all week.”

“I-i haven’t been running.” You totally have been running.

“Oh really?” He smirked. “What would you call it then?”

“Protecting my virtue.” You pouted at him, “For educational purposes”

“Do you have any virtue left to protect?” He backed you against the wall, his breath on your neck.

“P-Professor…” You arched your back against him, a soft sigh leaving your lips.

“That precious virtue of yours seems very easy to break, little lady.” his teeth grazed your skin and you shuddered, pressing yourself against him.

“Only for you.” Your hands were at his shoulders, fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt.

“Pretty words.”

‘That's important isn’t it, setting the mood?” He kissed your neck as you responded, your fingers carding through his hair. “I think you taught a lesson on that.”

“I might have.” His hands wandered, and you were growing uncomfortably warm. “Would you like me to teach you something else?”

“I’ll gladly take the extra credit.” The predatory gleam in his eyes had only increased as his hands moved to your blouse, you gave a sharp intake of breath-

And then a phone began to ring.

His phone.

“Dammit.” He frowned, pulling away from you. “The little lord needs to learn some patience.” Still he didn’t answer the phone, but the moment was over.

“You should go?” You trailed off, looking down at the floor.

“I would imagine so, little lady.” His hand patted your hair as he stepped away. “Wouldn’t want to get caught by Yukimura.”

“Okay.” Your voice was small, and you couldn’t help the small bubble of sadness as you looked up at him.

“If you look at me like that, should I assume you want me to do unspeakable things to you?” Saizo chuckled, tilting your face up with his hand.

“W-What!?’ You yelped, yanking your body back and away from him. “I...I don’t.” Your blush told a different story altogether and it was clearly amusing your professor.

“We are defensive, aren’t we?” He was already walking down the hallway. “Too bad, I’ll have to save your punishment for another day.”

You watched him walk away, before shaking your head.

He was really going to be the death of you.

“Professor.”

“Little Lady.” He trailed a hand up your bare back and you felt goosebumps form up your skin.

“You sponsor the kendo club?”

“I do.”

“Did you ever do kendo?” You kissed his bicep, enjoying the taste of his skin.

“I did.”

“Ah.” A silence settled as you looked at him, he gazed back, eyes unreadable. After a moment he spoke again.

“Yukimura asked me to sponsor it.” You nodded, that was almost obvious. Yukimura and Saizo definitely had a long standing friendship.

“You and he are really close, aren’t you?” He shifted under you as you spoke, grabbing the throw blanket off of the floor and pulling it over the two of you. You couldn’t help think that perhaps the bed would be better than the couch, but you didn’t broach it. You’d been rebuffed one to many times, his eyes going cold at the suggestion.

“I would say so, I’ve been tutoring him since he was in middle school.” You laughed at that, picturing a teenage Saizo, trying to wrangle the ball of energy that Yukimura almost certainly was.

“That’s great.”

“How long have you known your friend, little lady?”

“Oh Oichi?”

“The one who dropped my class so unceremoniously.”

“That is her” You giggled, and he drew you closer, so that your face was in the crook of his neck. “Since we were kids. We were in basically in daycare together.”

“You seem like a troublesome pair.”

“I was a good kid.”

“I believe it.” His tone was teasing and you could feel your face heating up. What was he implying?

“W-Whats that supposed to mean?”

“You said it yourself. You were a good kid.”

“I wasn’t boring or anything, if that is what you mean.”

“I don’t think you’re boring at all.” Ugh, you could hear his smirk, he wasn’t even hiding it! You placed your hands on his chest, pushing yourself up so you could look him eye to eye.

“Boring girls don’t have this much fun.” You looked down his chest, implication clear.

“My my, we’ve gotten bolder haven’t we?” You lowered yourself down, gliding your teeth over the skin of his neck.

“Let's find out”

“I look good, right?”

“You look fine.”

“Good.” Oichi grinned, twirling in her dress. Midlength, adorable, like her. She looked great, as always, and you couldn’t help but smile back at her. She huffed, pinching your cheek.

“Stop looking so glum.”

“I don’t look glum!” Not on purpose at least. You’d done your part, even agreeing to attend this little ‘double date’ as Oichi had called it. Even though every time she said it, it drove you a bit closer to the edge.

Oichi just seemed so happy.

So happy with her normal relationship, that she could openly have.

And not for the first time since this all started… you had the thought, no matter how selfish it was, that you wanted that too.

You knew you could, there were boys who would take you out, and treat you fairly, glad to show you off.

But you wanted it with Saizo.

You wanted to be with Saizo.

“Do you really like him?” You asked, a bit suddenly, vocalizing the thoughts in your head. “Yukimura, I mean.” Oichi dropped her hands from your face, biting the inside of her cheek. A nervous habit she had acquired sometime in grade school.

“I do.” She decided, nodding to herself. “I like him as a person. He’s kind and thoughtful. I enjoy being around him.” she fiddled with the hem of her dress. “He’s definitely something right? He’s really shy, and he isn’t pushy at all. It's refreshing, you know?”

“Oichi, you sound besotted.” You teased, winking at her.

“I would never.”

“But he sounds so perfect when you describe him.” You sighed, mimicking a lovelorn girl.

“Please stop.” She huffed.

“Well he’s a dude, so I’m sure he has some flaw.” You teased, and she laughed, which made you smile.

“Oh you should have seen him on our first date. He really did get a nosebleed.” She laughed. “It was terrible, it got everywhere.”

“Oichi, that is too much information.” You wrinkled your nose, having heard this story several times now, although she hadn’t wanted to tell it in the beginning.

“And he was so sad when he had to reschedule this date. But sports, you know?”

“Right, I know.” You shook your head, you didn’t not know. “Such a man.”

“Such a man!” She rolled her eyes “But what good has a man ever given me.” She put her hand on her hip, glaring at you.

“Ain’t it the truth!” You echoed.

Oichi paused, got quiet.

“I think Yukimura is a good man, and I want to see what that is like.”

“Fair enough.” You stepped away from her, grabbing her hand. “Time to go face the good man, Oichi.”

How did you find yourself third-wheeling Oichi and Yukimura so hard? You could hardly stand it.

It was cute. Cute enough to curdle in your stomach.

Oichi was a tease, certainly, and Yukimura was blushing so hard you were sure he’d die before the evening was out, and you…

Where the hell was Saizo.

You pulled out your phone, intent to send him a text, when a knock at the door startled you.

You were up before Yukimura could budge, all but climbing over the couch to reach the door. When you swung it open, there in front of you, as casual as ever, was your professor.

“Dr. Kirigakure.” You breathed, as he walked past you.

“You can call me Saizo if you like.” He turned to look at you, almost brazen in the way he moved his eyes down your body. “We are outside of the classroom.”

“S-Saizo.” You blushed, your voice a harsh whisper, looking away from him. How...How could he be so nonchalant?

“A fast learner.” He echo’d words he had spoken to you in much different circumstances before as he dropped down on the couch next to Yukimura. You returned to your love-seat, intent on monopolizing your teacher. “Little Lord, I assume we’re eating?”

“Ah yeah, I ordered Pizza and stuff, it should be here soon.” Yukimura grinned, throwing an arm over Oichi’s shoulder, and you all but winced at the contact.

Perhaps it rubbed you the wrong way that they acted so close.

Even though they didn’t know each other as long as you and Saizo had...They hadn’t even been together as long.

Hah, together. Well you weren’t together were you?

And yet he touched her like that so openly.

Saizo had never.

Even when you were alone, just the two of you...He’d always been so professional.

You pressed your hands together, clenching your fingers. You needed to rid yourself of these thoughts, or this night was really going to drag.

Fake it till you make it, as they say.

You smiled, perking up at the mention of food. Try not to be suspiciously quiet, or Oichi would notice. She would notice and call you out on it.

You did not need that.

“Oichi, you better had ordered something yummy.” You stuck your tongue out at her, and she grinned.

“Nope. No one likes Pineapple Pizza but you.”

Yukimura was teaching Oichi to play some soccer game.

Or at least that was his excuse to have her cuddled up on his lap that way. As they cuddled, you couldn’t help but turn to Saizo.

Maybe you could use this to your advantage.

Now was your chance, after all. As good a time as any.

“So, professor- Ah, I mean Saizo.” You leaned against the armrest of the love-seat, locking you eyes with his. “Why’d you go into teaching?”

“Hm?” He looked at you, almost amused. “Is that the question you are choosing to go with?”

“I figure.” You drawled, “No better time than the present, since it is rare to get someone like you alone.”

“Is it?” He leaned a little towards you, and it sent a thrill down your spine. “I decided to go into teaching because I needed a day job.”

“A day job?” “Something to fill the space between me writing erotica.” He smirked as color bloomed on your cheeks. Right, you had known that, didn’t you? “I figured a college campus was as good a place as any. I am qualified, after all.”

“Does writing erotica qualify you to teach college English?”

“No, but you do call me professor, so something must.”

“So professor Saizo.” Oichi piped up, looking at the two of you with interest. “Are you seeing anyone?” You blinked, trying to keep your expression steady. Of course she would.

“If I was, don’t you think I would have brought her?” It took every piece of you not to laugh.

“Come on Saizo, don’t be like that.” It was Yukimura this time. “You’re always a bachelor, don’t you ever want to settle down?”

Oichi didn’t want to settle down anytime soon. You glanced over at her, and she shrugged. You doubted Saizo wanted to either.

“Well Yukimura. I can’t see what use I would have with simpering college students, if that is what you are suggesting.” Oh.

Oh ouch.

That was almost directly aimed at you.

Oichi gave you the ‘look’. The one that communicated, what's wrong with this asshole? It was your turn to shrug. You didn’t know, you tried to communicate back. Perhaps you did know.

Maybe he was just being a dick.

Maybe he was doing it as cover?

“It doesn’t have to be a student, you know.” Oichi swooped in, and you could tell her Oda temper had been riled.

She was not someone to talk down to.

“I’m not interested.” Saizo continued, unabashed. “There is no point in pursuing things like that. I can get what I want from a woman without all the hassle.”

“Oh and what’s that”

“Oh I wouldn’t dare say it in front of our little lord.”

“What a jaded writer you are.” Oichi huffed, settling herself against Yukimura. “I worry for every woman you ever run into.”

She ought to be worried for you. You had gone quiet, looking down at the ground.

What a perfect rejection.

Yukimura had fallen silent at the sharp comment. In fact the whole room had.

This was so awkward.

___________________________

“Seriously that man is the worst. I don’t know who he thinks he is.” You were back at home, Oichi sitting next to you on your bed. She was pretty livid, and you didn’t blame her. Saizo had not been on his best behavior.

Still.

“Maybe he thinks he’s a college professor at a kid’s date.” You mused back to her, running your fingers through her hair in a soothing motion. “Yukimura didn’t seem too torn up about it.”

“Why are you defending him?”

“I dunno.”

“Still haven’t gotten over your crush I see.” This time you didn’t blush, only turned your head.

“Maybe not.”

___________________

“Professor.” You stood in his office. It was Monday, and you had an entire weekend to panic and stew. He hadn’t texted you, abnormal for him. Of course, it wasn’t like you were going to text him. He had hurt your feelings, regardless of the reason behind it.

“To what do I owe the honor?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Nothing really...I just...wanted to see you.” You trailed off, not entirely lying. It wasn’t healthy, you knew. But maybe you were looking for him to tell you that it was a joke, he hadn’t meant what he’d said, it was just a front.

“You look displeased little lady.”

You tilted your head to look at him.

“No, I’m not.” Your voice was measured. You were not displeased. There was nothing to be displeased about, right? Saizo sighed, a resigned sound.

“Well then why are we making that face.”

“I just… I wanted to talk to you about the other night-.”

“Dear oh dear,” He cut you off, looking exasperated. “You lasted longer than I thought you would.” His tone was amused but sharp, cutting. You stared at him, willing him not to continue.

“Saizo-” You interjected, only to be cut off.

“It's time to end it.” He said you name with a measured coolness, and you visibly recoiled. “I told you. No feelings.”

“I...I don’t.” You crossed your arms “I-”

“Why lie? It's not going to do you any favors, if you make the ending messier than it has to be.” His hand was on your shoulder and suddenly you were furious.

“I don’t think I know what you mean.”

“You spent the entire night staring at me with doe eyes, looking like a stricken animal. You should be glad that Yukimura doesn’t notice these things and Oichi chose to ignore it.”

“Are you serious with me right now?” You slapped his hand away from you, taking a step from him.

“What a risk you are taking all the sudden. Coming to my office, making a scene, and then claiming you don’t have feelings for me.”

“It's been months, months! Are you going to tell me that I seriously can’t have feelings?”

“I’m telling you that your feelings have unnecessarily complicated this situation.” His crimson eyes had turned as cold as his voice. “So its time to terminate our agreement.”

“You’re saying it like you don’t have any feelings at all!” It was tumbling out of you, a torrent of words you had kept locked inside of you. “You’re telling me, honestly, that you have no sort of feelings for me at all?” Your voice cracked on the last note, and you could feel tears threaten at your eyes. “That this has all really been meaningless fucking?”

No, no. He didn’t deserve your tears. You wouldn’t cry.

That was when he laughed, a low chuckle that burned your ears.

“Are you stupid?” He walked over to his desk, pulling a drawer open. “I thought that someone who parades around like you do would have a bit more common sense.”

“W-What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re just another girl with daddy issues and a desire to break the rules.” He all but hissed, slamming something onto the desk.

A manuscript.

“S-Saizo?” The tears that had threatened to spill, did, hot and fierce.

“Easy to manipulate, and in my opinion a bit boring, but great content, little lady.” The name rang hollow in your ears as you were confronted with something that registered as a nightmare. “People eat stories like that up.” He gestured at the papers on his desk. Stories. Saizo, a writer first before a professor, although you hadn’t really realized it. All the grooming, teaching you to tell a better story. The odd stuff, not touching him, not going into his room. His light cruelty in front of Yukimura, the clandestine situations he put you in.

“Oh...Oh my God” You stared at him, your vision swimming.

“So you finally get it.” He was as smooth as ever. “I had a bit of writer's’ block that I needed to alleviate, and it was easy to see you wanted me. What was the harm in killing two birds with one stone. So long as there were no feelings.”

He was using you for his book. Inspiration. You were nothing more than a plaything, a means to an end. All his actions, those lingering looks, his searing touch, it was all like poison swirling in under your skin.

“You….you used me for your book.” Your words sounded flat, you had stopped crying, but you couldn’t stop staring at him. You couldn’t rationalize it. Sure, maybe he wasn’t a good person, but he had never...you couldn’t imagine he would do something like that.

“You could say so. Not all the way, just enough.” He shrugged, indifferent. Completely indifferent. Always so fucking indifferent. “I was hoping you could make it to the end of the semester. But really, it doesn’t matter. I’m sure you can pass my class just fine.”

“Sai-”

“Professor Kirigakure.” He corrected. “You’re just my student now. I suggest, you take a moment and realize your situation.”

He was right, the semester would be over in less than a month, you needed his class to graduate. He had told you, told you right up front and you had been too stupid and caught up to listen. You just thought...You had hoped he would change his mind, that you would be enough to sway him.

But no.

No you were wrong, you were wrong about a lot of things.

“Professor Kirigakure.” Your voice was soft. “Professor. Right.” You sniffled and hated yourself for it, although you tried to keep your wavering voice cold. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for disturbing you. I’m going to go.”

“If you like, I can get you a copy of the book, since you did help inspire it.” A deathblow. You all but staggered out of his office, and ran down the hall.”

If he watched you leave, you didn’t know. You didn’t see if his shoulders sagged as the door shut, if he sat in his seat and stared at his desk. He might have even picked up the manuscript, tearing it to pieces page by page.

You didn’t know.

And if it was up to him, you never would.

Hey y’all. Sorry for the angst (sorry not sorry) The ball had to drop sometime. Its a bit cliche, but I couldn’t help it. The time is now, but we aren’t done.

Please stay with me. <3

Tagging: @jemchew @han-pan @lexiiferr @you-mass-effect-my-dragon-age @frywen-babbles @tearscrime @nairil-daeris @honeybeelily @carolithe

#slbp #samurai love ballad party #saizo kirigakure #oda oichi #sanada yukimura #college au #angst #professo/student #professor saizo #feel the pain #angst to get a happy ending?#julie writes

133 notes · View notes

wrestlewriting · 7 years

Text

Insolence, Pt. 11 [Adam Cole]

Title: Insolence, Part Eleven of ? (Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten)

Characters: Adam Cole/OC(Brenna)

Genre: Fluff. Sexy Times.

Length: ~4,800

Warnings: Language. Somewhat rated-M shenanigans (what?! Yes! It’s true!)

Summary/Inspo: “No star is ever lost we once have seen; we always may be what we might have been.” - Adelaide Anne Procter

“Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time. It’s easy. All you need is love.” - The Beatles

@catie-kaboom @libby-rose-2016 @legitlunatic @valeonmars @superkixbaybay @danapotterwwe @alexahood21 @rollinstrash @covergirlcollarbones @hiitsmecharlie @tearsropsandtiedye @thedeboniardevistation @ily-zaddy @wweismyguiltypleasure @darwarsnoam @bulletbaybay @megan-monroe @pjanina13

AUTHOR NOTE: I am sooooo not a smut writer. But here’s my loving attempt at it all the same. So this isn’t really smut but like, happy sexy times? (Please, 1000x over, let me know your thoughts on this one! So out of my comfort zone. Also, just in general, what’s up? Good stuff? Only a chapter or two left sooo…..)

These are the days we’ve been waiting for. Neither of us knows what’s in store. You just roll your window down and place your bets. These are the days we won’t regret. These are the days we will never forget!

“So what exactly are we doing?” Adam inquired, watching you from the doorway of the bathroom as you did your hair; two braids coming from the front, meeting at the back of your head, where you were pinning them to rest over your hair that was down.

“Regretting letting me plan today?” you asked, throwing a coy but mocking smile at him quickly, before focusing back on your appearance.

“Nah, I’m sure you’re not getting me killed or anything,” he stated with a chuckle, leaning against the door-frame.

“You don’t know that,” you argued, looking at him through the mirror. “I could totally have gotten in contact with the mob already. Or Jay.”

“…too soon,” Adam grumbled, making you giggle. “Can we not talk about him?”

“We’re gonna have to face it eventually,” you pointed out, finishing with your hair, turning to face him.

“Yea, eventually. But not now. Today and tomorrow…this is us, just us, OK?”

“Got it,” you agreed, walking to him, standing up straight to kiss him briefly “You and me.”

“You and me.”

“Now let’s go so I can date the hell out of you,” you declared, causing him to laugh outright, as you walked past him out of the bathroom.

“Oh, is that what this is?” he asked amused, turning and watching you as you grabbed your shoes, and sat down on the bed to put them on.

“Yes,” you answered, tying your red low top shoes. “Because we did this whole thing ass backwards.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong,” he conceded. “But we also haven’t exactly had time with each other that didn’t also involve work.”

“Well, now we do. So we’re gonna be normal,” you explained, standing up. You fixed the flowy black shirt you were wearing, which was over a light pair of jean capris. Adam was similarly dressed in a jeans and a t-shirt. Las Vegas wasn’t sweltering at this time in the day, but it was warm enough for you to just bring a light sweater and be fine.

After getting back from the show last night, the both of you had realized you hadn’t made actual plans for the next two days. So it had been determined, with a coin toss, that you would be in charge of today’s activities, and Adam was to plan tomorrow.

This morning you had slept in together, enjoying a lazy morning in bed with the TV. Adam had, courteously, kept his own hotel room booked for the days, but you were happy to wake up beside him, and told him as much.

Once the day had turned to afternoon, you went downstairs to the hotel restaurant for lunch. It was just shy of 4PM now, and you were finally heading out for the other activities you’d chosen. Which you were keeping secret from Adam.

Though, to be fair, he hadn’t told you what he planned for tomorrow.

Making sure you both had any needed items from the room, you went downstairs and out to the car. Adam, begrudgingly, let you drive. You had to give him points for thinking you’d let him and he could figure out the plans that way.

Las Vegas traffic was a bitch, even later on a Sunday. But you eventually arrived to your pre-planned destination. The same venue you’d had Ring of Honor shows at this weekend; Sam Town’s Live.

“…what?” Adam asked, his eyes scanning over the building. “We’ve been here for the last two nights. Why are we back?”

“How many times have we been here, like in total?” you responded, parking the car.

“I don’t know. Probably ten? Maybe?”

“And none of those times did any of us ever do any of the fun stuff that’s here,” you specified. “We’ve talked about it on plenty of occasions, just never did it.” The two of you got out of the vehicle, meeting at the trunk. “So, we’re gonna see a movie and get dinner and then I am so kicking your ass at bowling.”

“You are taking this ‘normal’ date plan very seriously,” Adam observed with a chuckle. You just grinned cheekily at him, took his hand, and made sure he was coming along with you into the building.

You found it was easier to just be you when it was only Adam. There was no worrying over what others thought or said or saw. There was little opportunity for your mind to go elsewhere. Adam was engaging, fun, entirely aware of you…you’d forgotten part of that somewhere along the way it seemed. But if you thought about it, it was what attracted you to him. Your friendship way back when had started with him because of these things.

Adam was beyond excited that you’d picked the movie Fist Fight to see. You giggled at his enthusiasm, and internally praised yourself for the choice. To be fair, it was also a movie you wanted to see.

It was about 6PM when you left the theater, still laughing and going over your favorite parts of the movie. You grabbed dinner at the in-building steakhouse, which was full of genuine catching up with one another; talk of each other’s families, Adam asking about your other job, you asking about his recent time in Japan, and his upcoming trip to England.

By the time you headed over to the bowling alley, a couple hours later, you were slightly tipsy. Not drunk, but feeling a bit looser.

The man working the counter was a big wrestling fan you found out. So after some talking, a couple autographs and pictures, he gave you what would essentially be free games for the night. After many assurances it wasn’t necessary, and then thanks, you headed over to get your bowling shoes.

“How come they haven’t made cuter shoes by now?”

“I don’t know,” Adam answered, picking up his pair from the counter.

“Like, this does not match my outfit, at all,” you disapproved.

“Well, that’s the joy of bowling, isn’t it? You get to wear stupid shoes and throw things at other things,” he detailed, as you finally reached your assigned lane.

“I do like throwing things,” you conceded almost dreamily, causing him to chuckle. Sitting down on one of the plastic benches, stowing your purse underneath, you took off your shoes and put on the tan and red shoes.

“Do I look good, or do I look good?” you asked jokingly, standing up and striking a dramatic pose to show off your temporary footwear.

“Sexiest you’ve ever looked,” Adam established.

The first two games went by quickly, leaving you each with one win. Jokes and trash talk were exchanged throughout. Adam attempted to distract you by sneaking up behind you, and you attempted to throw him off his game by teasingly pulling up your shirt a few inches.

“I will return with more drinks,” you decided, kissing his cheek, and standing up after the second game had ended, and the waitress circling around hadn’t been seen in a while.

“Alright,” Adam said, and you could feel his gaze on you as you walked away.

Making your way to the bar, you leaned your forearms against it, waiting for the bartender to notice you. She was currently filling a larger order, so you knew it would take a moment. In the interim, you let your eyes scan around, casually people watching. Vegas sure brought out an eclectic grouping of people; from families to couples to girls getting drunk together, to dudes trying to hit on those girls. It was an interesting mixture, and entertaining to observe.

“Who knew a Sunday night would be so busy?” Looking over, you found a man standing beside you. He was cute enough, in the conventional preppy-boy style; wearing a graphic tee and jeans. He had to be in his mid-20s you figured, around your age.

“Vegas never sleeps,” you replied.

“Can’t really blame it,” he stated. “It’s not for a lack of anything to do.”

“This is true,” you agreed, your eyes trying to catch that of the bartender’s.

“Are you here on vacation?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, I’m Nate,” he introduced himself.

“Nice to meet you.”

“No name for you?”

“I’m a mystery,” you identified, your voice monotone. You could chit-chat with the best of them, if their intentions seemed innocent or sweet. But something in this man’s posture, presentation, told you he wasn’t either of these things. And that made him unwelcome to you.

“I bet I can figure you out,” Nate decreed, suggestively. You continued to stare at the bartender, in hopes she’d come over soon.

Thankfully, she did. You ordered another round of liquor for you and Adam, watching as she walked off to make the drinks.

“Didn’t take you for a vodka girl,” Nate commented.

“Eavesdropping is rude,” you highlighted.

“Feisty.” You had to work very hard to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes, and giving him a piece of your mind. “Don’t girls usually like their cute little mixed drinks?”

“Anyone can like a good mixed drink whenever they choose to,” you explained, your tone biting. “I don’t recall drink menus coming with gender assignments.”

“Hey.” Adam’s voice was music to your ears. Not that you couldn’t handle yourself, you had for years. But backup was always welcomed. Especially when you just weren’t in the mood to handle pushy men.

“Hi,” you turned you hip against the bar, allowing him to come to your side, an arm going around your waist. You didn’t miss that his kiss was a little bit more possessive than usual. You guessed he’d been watching you at the bar, and had read the situation the same way you had.

“Have you even ordered yet?” Adam inquired.

“Yes.”

“Good.” From the corner of your eye, you noticed the scowl on Nate’s face beside you. Adam turned his gaze to the man, and you could almost feel the cockiness, protectiveness, radiating from him. “Hey, man.”

“Hey,” the other reciprocated. “Busy night, huh?”

“Definitely,” Adam granted, his stare never leaving Nate’s. “But my girlfriend and I are having fun all the same.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his statement.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Nate, begrudgingly, said. “Well, keep enjoying your night.”

“You too,” Adam replied, before coming closer to the bar, turning himself enough to keep Nate from being able to fully see you. The bartender came back a moment later with your drinks, each of you picking up yours. You took a long drink from the glass.

“Girlfriend, huh?” you questioned, looking up at Adam. He appeared unfazed on the surface about your inquiry, but his eyes told a different story.

“Too far?”

“Just right,” you ensured, kissing him shortly, before walking away and back to the lane you had been assigned. Honestly, you were still trying to process through his sudden declaration and use of defined terms for what you were. While you appreciated it, liked it, you still hadn’t expected it. It did sound nice to hear. But was it too much? Too soon?

Not seconds later did you feel Adam’s hand on your hip, stopping you from punching in for your third game to start on the computer.

“Bren, I’m serious,” he stated, his voice close to your ear, as you set your drink down on the table. “I need you to tell me if that was too far.”

Apparently Insecure Adam was making another, rare, appearance. It would probably never cease to surprise you any time you heard worry or uncertainty in his tone. But you preferred this to Insolent Adam any day of the week.

“Do you regret saying it?”

“What? No.”

“Then…what’s the issue?” You turned yourself enough to face him. “You told me you weren’t messing around with me. And I’m clearly not looking to be with anyone else. So…what else would we call this? Friends with benefits?”

“…what benefits?”

“Don’t be an ass,” you demanded, causing the suggestive smirk to fall from his face after his ill-timed joked.

“Hey, Bren, you’re right,” Adam conceded gently. “I just…don’t want you to think I’m pushing you towards something you’re not ready for.”

“I’ve literally told my best friends to get fucked. I’m in Vegas alone with you. These are my choices,” you confirmed. “I know I haven’t been the best at being open about what I want and what’s in my head before. But I’m trying to be better. I’m trying to not second-guess and hesitate and worry. I’m trying to just do what feels right.”

“And this does?”

“Do you think I would be here if it didn’t?” you challenged.

“No.”

“So, then, boyfriend, can we get back to me kicking your ass at bowling?”

“We’re tied.”

“Not for long.”

Before you could turn back to the lane screen, Adam pulled you to him, kissing you. It wasn’t deep in the physical sense, but you knew it was meaningful. He needed you to feel, know, he meant this. There was now structure, titles, boundaries, instilled in your relationship. While part of you was still very nervous, the other part of you was thrilled. And you were trying your best to let the happy part overshadow anything else.

“My date today is gonna be so better than yours.”

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t decide what you wanted to be more offended by; the fact that he thought he had a better plan than you, or that he basically implied your date day had been bad.

“I’m just sayin’,” he shrugged, grinning over at you. You didn’t smile back.

“So yesterday sucked then?”

“What? No.”

“Then explain yourself.”

“I had fun yesterday, of course I did. I didn’t mean… I was just joking, Jesus,” he finally got out, looking entirely uncomfortable under your stare.

“Mmhmm,” you murmured, looking him up and down once, before turning to gaze out the cab’s window. You struggled to keep the smile from coming to your face as you felt him glancing over at you. Giving Adam a hard time was quickly becoming a new hobby for you. When he took your hand in his, lifting it to kiss the back of it, you broke and let out a giggle.

Your day had been another lazy one. Another lunch in the hotel. An afternoon nap. Some day-drinks in the hotel room.

Now that you found yourself driving away from the hotel, you already had a good idea that his plans for the night were far different than yours. The fact that he had told you to wear the short ruffled nude-gold dress and heels gave enough away to tell you that you wouldn’t be hanging at a bowling alley and bar tonight.

So when you pulled up to the Mirage hotel, you weren’t entirely shocked. But you were still very curious as to what you’d be doing here.

Adam was quick to take care of the cab and lead you in to the hotel. It was beautiful inside, you had to say; full of trees and different places to veer off to. You followed beside Adam into the hotel and along the side, arriving at a restaurant called Japonais. It was darker in atmosphere; mysterious, sexy, cool.

The hostess sat the two of you quickly, at a small table against the wall further inside. Within moments a waiter came over to welcome you, as well as take your drink order. You felt adventurous, trying one of their specialty cocktails, while Adam had settled on a Japanese beer.

Dinner was incredibly enjoyable. The food, specifically sushi, was amazing; the conversation flowing with ease. You and Adam spoke about your dreams for your careers, you worries about accomplishing these things. Hopes for your lives beyond wrestling; kids a desire for the both of you, along with a quiet suburban life.

You realized how many things you had known about him before, and how many you still had to learn.

Adam eventually informed you that you needed to leave to make the next event he had planned, which came sooner than you anticipated. Time had seemingly flown during dinner. Downing your third drink, he paid, before you headed back out in to the hotel. Walking with your arm tucked in to his, you eventually came upon a theater.

The words ‘The Beatles, Cirque Du Soleil’ read across the marquee.

“Adam, oh my god,” you gasped, taking in the large British flag projected on the ceiling above you.

“I figured you’d like this.”

“You should like it too,” you resolved, looking to him.

“It’s The Beatles. Who the hell doesn’t like The Beatles?”

“Fair,” you said with a giggle. Pulling him closer, you stood up straight to kiss him lightly a few times. “This is awesome. Thank you.”

“Anything to see you happy.” A blush came to your face almost instantly at his declaration. After giving your tickets, you made your way to your seats, to enjoy the show.

The show ended up being incredible. Every part of it amazed you. While you were fairly athletic as a wrestler, acrobats took the cake as far as flexibility and physical skill. You wished you could do many of the things they did. The music, the colors, the movements…it was absolutely breathtaking.

It ended far too soon in your opinion. You could have watched hours and hours more of it.

Adam guided you out of the theater, and back into the hotels’ atrium. He took you over to one of the bars, which was surrounded by palm trees and other bits of outdoorsy-décor. Sitting at a table, a waiter came over and took your drink orders.

You gushed to Adam about the show over drinks, how much you had enjoyed the entire experience, the entire night to be honest. Conversation changed to other topics; other bands you loved, concerts you’d been to, concerts you wanted to go to. Drinks continued to come, as topics in your talks changed to movies and friends and places you wanted to travel to.

A loud collection of people broke your concentration on one another as they made their way in to the bar just shy of midnight. Based on the short white dress, and the sloppy way a man hung on her, kissing her, you had one guess as to what had happened.

“I can’t believe people actually do that,” you commented, watching the couple giddily ordering drinks at the bar with their friends, some of their loud voices commenting on the ‘crazy wedding’ that had just occurred.

“To each their own,” Adam shrugged, looking amused at the drunken party of people. “How come you and Evan never got married?”

“Didn’t get around to it,” you replied, taking a strong drink from your glass, as he faced you again. The mention of your former love, surprisingly, didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. “We didn’t want it to be all crazy and stressful, more than it had to be anyways. So we were just waiting for, I guess, my life and career to settle a bit. It never mattered to us though. I called him my husband more often than not.”

“You guys were engaged for a while….”

“Almost three years,” you clarified. “We waited until he was done with college for that part. But like I said, it just wasn’t a huge thing for us that we felt we had to do. We were together, everything was good as it was. Words and titles and legalities weren’t important then.”

“I genuinely didn’t know you guys weren’t married more than once,” Adam stated, causing a bittersweet grin to come to your face.

“A lot of people didn’t; still don’t probably. It just got easier to tell people we were than explain what we actually were. I mean, I didn’t even wear my ring a lot because I was always afraid of losing it on the road.”

“You do lose things, a lot.”

“So much,” you admitted, with a laugh. “Ya know, I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to talk about exes on dates.”

“…we’re really shitty at this.”

“The worst,” you grinned, and after a pause, spoke again. “So, Kelsey….”

“Ha, fucking, ha,” Adam muttered, taking his own long drink from his glass.

“Kidding!” You smiled widely at him, causing him to give you a fake, short smirk of his own, before a genuine smile came to his lips. The conversation fell off for a minute, as you each sipped more at your drinks. While it had been easy to talk about Evan, and joke about Adam’s past relationship, you knew that it also brought up feelings for both of you. Things that didn’t really need to be relevant right now. Things that shouldn’t be bothered with at this time.

“So, good couple days?”

“Great couple days,” you corrected, grateful for the subject change. “I needed this. We needed this.”

“Yea,” Adam agreed, his eyes catching yours. “I’m not ready for it to end, honestly.”

“We’ve still got tonight…and the morning,” you replied, biting at your lip. You knew your statement held promise, suggestion.

It was intentional.

“Let me know when you’re ready to head back,” he offered, his tone equally indicative of more to come.

“After this drink?”

“Sounds good.”

There was a solid chance you put some hurry into finishing your liquor. After closing out the tab, Adam tucked you into his side, heading out front to get a cab. Throughout the ride back to your hotel, you stayed against his side, your hand resting on his thigh.

Heading up to your room seemed to take longer than you wanted.

As soon as the door was closed, you had your shoes off, kicked somewhere against the wall. You reached behind yourself, sloppily tugging at the zipper on your dress.

“Help me,” you pouted, looking over your shoulder at Adam, who was slowly making his way in to the room, observing you. After toeing off his shoes, he eventually came to you, his hands gently pulling down the zipper, exposing your back to him.

Turning towards him, you immediately put your hands on his cheeks, pulling him into a strong kiss. Adam seemed to take a second to take stock of the situation, before his hands rested against your hips, pulling you flush against him.

It was barely moments before the kiss turned to tongue and teeth, emotion and urgency flowing between the two of you.

“Bren….” Your name was practically a breath from him as he parted slightly from you.

“Adam, don’t,” you requested, your hands slowly sliding down his shoulders, his torso, stopping as they met the waistband of his pants. “If I didn’t want this, I wouldn’t do this. You have to know that by now.”

“…I do,” he assured. “I just….”

“Don’t turn in to a gentleman now,” you smirked.

“I will always be that way to you,” Adam affirmed, his seriousness catching you off guard.

“…I know,” you recovered. “Which is why I’m confident in this. I trust you. I’m safe with you, right?”

“Always.”

“Then kiss me. And get this dress off of me,” you declared, your fingers curling into his belt, pulling him further into you. “Trust me when I say I want this.”

Instead of replying, Adam placed his mouth against yours. You had enough sense about you to reciprocate the action, your mouths opening quickly, tongues meeting the others. You felt his hands move up to the straps of your dress, pushing them down your arms, letting the material fall down your body.

Trying to keep things equal, you had your hands working open his belt within a moment, unbuttoning his pants, causing them to hang loosely on his hips. You let go of him, and moved your arms out of your dress, the clothing bunching at your hips. Adam moved his hands to continue pushing your dress down, as you put your hands so they cradled his jaw, pressing his lips closer into yours. You barely acknowledged the feeling of your dress falling to your feet, but you stepped out of it all the same, leaving you in just your lingerie.

While his mouth traveled down your cheek to your neck, you worked at unbuttoning his shirt. It seemed to happen far faster than you could comprehend; he slid out of his shirt, you got off your bra, he moved you so the back of your legs met the bed. He made sure you were eventually on your back, your feet just dangling over the edge of the mattress. Adam was above you quickly, his lips working smoothly down your chest, to your stomach.

When his kisses made it below your belly button, you stopped him, with a hand to his head gently, your stomach flexing tightly.

“…don’t,” you murmured, causing his eyes to come up and meet yours, his breath hot against your skin. “Don’t.”

“Sweetheart….”

“I just want you right now.”

Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, you guided Adam back up to meet you in a kiss. Gliding your hands down as far as you could, you pushed at his pants that were still hanging on to his body. He lifted himself from the bed, finishing what you started, leaving himself naked. Reaching towards you, he gently pulled at your panties, sliding them down your legs, leaving you equally exposed.

Your breath caught as you realized the situation. This had gotten really real. And as much as you wanted this, you couldn’t help but feel a miniscule amount of hesitance. This was a significant step, for you personally, and for the both of you in this relationship.

“Hey,” Adam got your attention, sensing your mood as he settled himself above you, causing your eyes to go to his. “It’s me, Bren.”

“That’s the issue,” you chuckled humorlessly. “How the fuck did you get so into my head?”

“Because I wanted to,” Adam stated. “But mostly because you let me.”

With that, and a high-pressured kiss, you felt him finally slide his way into you. It had been over a year now since you’d last had sex, and your body was certainly reminding your brain of that as he entered you. You knew the alcohol was dulling some of your feelings, but you were highly aware all the same.

What you knew, above it all, was that you did want this. And really, really liked this. Adam had the good grace to pause a moment, but when you let out a breath, he stopped being still. He felt really good moving within you, and when he put his thumb on your clit, you immediately arched up in to him, a moan bubbling up your throat.

“Shit,” you hummed, your nails involuntarily biting in to the skin of his shoulder.

“Yea?”

“Yes,” you gasped, screwing your eyes shut, as he increased the movement of his thumb. His lips found your neck again as you met him thrust for thrust.

You never wanted to forget what this felt like. You felt warm, tingly, all over; pleasantly taut physically but relaxed emotionally. Adam’s mouth on you, hands on you, body on you…you felt wanted, safe, cherished.

God, he was good.

“Bren…” his voice was broken, lust-loaded, as he came back up to kiss you deeply.

“Adam,” you practically whimpered.

“I got you, gorgeous,” he comforted, pushing in deeper somehow.

It was minutes later you felt your core tightening, as your hips pushed up firmly against his. Adam finished not too long after.

After each of you caught your breath, Adam moved himself to your side, your shoulders pressed against each other’s. Your heart was still beating fast, and you still felt small tingles trickling through your body. Adam seemed equally effected still beside you.

“Fuck,” you realized, breaking the silence. “I totally just put out after only the second date.”

“Slut.”

“Right back atcha,” you asserted. Adam laughed, turning his head, to which you moved your own, meeting his eyes.

“You were right; we’re shit at this.”

“At least we’re in it together?”

“Exactly,” he concurred. You couldn’t help but giggle, as a smile formed on Adam’s face. He moved closer, kissing you gently, before pulling you into his side, your head going to his chest.

This had been a busy two days. A lot have been done, a lot of been discussed, and a lot had changed. You were in a relationship. With a really good person. In spite of all the changes and what such things usually did to you, you felt calm. Content. Happy. You didn’t feel questioning and panicky like you tended to do.

This felt…right.

You never wanted to leave the bubble you’d made in Vegas with Adam.

I never saw it happening. I’d given up and given in. I just couldn’t take the hurt again - What a feeling. I didn’t have the strength to fight. Suddenly, you seemed so right. Me and you - What a feeling. What a feeling in my soul - Love burns brighter than sunshine. It’s brighter than sunshine.

Let the rain fall, I don’t care. I’m yours, and suddenly you’re mine. Suddenly, you’re mine.

UPDATE: Chapter Twelve is up.

#adam cole imagine #adam cole fanfic #adam cole fan fiction #adam cole fan fic #wrestling imagine #wrestling fan fiction #wrestling fanfic #wrestling fan fic #roh imagine #roh fanfic #Adam Cole

81 notes · View notes

keqingcatears · 4 years

Text

Wolf Moon (Part 3)

Summary: Beacon Hills looked like a normal town on textbook, but creatures from fairy tales lurk in the dark unbeknownst to everyone. Serena Masters is one of these people. Former best friends to Scott and Stiles, Serena reunites with them after a frightful event that’s going to change the town forever and secrets will begin to unfold. This story will follow the plot line of TW with occasional changes to accommodate Serena’s backstory.

Characters/Pairings: Serena/OC, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Lydia Martin, Allison Argent, Jackson Whittemore, Serena x Stiles!platonic

Word Count: 1625

A/N: the last part of the first episode! hope you enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2

Serena did the last touchup of her makeup. Tonight was the party at Lydia’s house and everyone was going to be there. Usually she would be excited but after learning that Scott may be a danger to himself and others tonight, she was far from happy to be partying. Light footsteps entered her room.

“Oh, sweetie you look gorgeous.” Her step-mother said. She stopped behind Serena and played with the strands of her hair. “I bet you have every boy falling for you.”

“That’s a total lie,” Serena said giggling.

“Do you have a date?”

“Nope.”

“What about Sti--” Before her step-mother could respond, Serena made a huge frown in the mirror and she caught on. “Oh that’s right, I’m sorry sweetie. It’s just you guys used to hang out all the time with Scott.”

Serena closed her makeup palettes and put the brushes on top to remind her to clean them. “Yeah, we used to,” she mumbled. She swiveled in her chair. “I better get going or I’m going to be late. Lydia wanted me over early to help her set up the last decorations before people get there.”

Her step-mom gave a kiss on her temple. “Be safe, it’s a full moon tonight.” Serena knew it wasn't a warning for her.

Serena arrived at Lydia's house and earned a full lecture on how everything was absolutely perfect for the first party of the semester. Serena agreed with everything she said but sometimes she would zone out when she caught a glimpse of the full moon leering down at them. She hoped Derek’s theory was wrong and that perhaps Scott wasn’t a werewolf and he was a perfectly good teenager that just got good at lacrosse over break.

Serena found herself near the drink and food area as the party went on. More and more people piled in and she politely said her greetings to everyone who passed by her. Her head always whipped up whenever someone new came through the door in hopes that one of them might be Scott. When she heard a familiar voice, her head whipped up to see if he walked through the door but her eyes met with someone she didn’t expect to meet. Stiles walked through the door in a nice button down and tie with basic khaki pants. They both noticed each other and quickly diverted their gaze somewhere more interesting. She thought that if Stiles walked through the door then surely Scott would have joined him.

Just as she thought this, the new star player walked through the doors with someone beside his side. It was Allison. Serena furrowed her brows. Since when did Scott ask girls out? As he passed by her at the drinks table, the two made eye contact and shot each other a sly smile. Allison gave a quick hello and Serena did the same but she knew that Scott wanted his time alone with her so she broke away from her scouting position and headed towards one of the hallways.

The party was going well so far. Even though the moon was at its highest peak, there seems to be no complications whatsoever. Serena was talking with a couple of classmates when suddenly, someone stumbled past them and doubled over like they were gonna throw up. She didn’t care at first thinking that it was one of the people who over drank, but the familiar flop of hair made her do a double take.

“Scott, are you okay?” She knew that was a dumb question to ask. Scott muttered something before pushing past the crowd of people in the hallways. She excused herself from the group and tailed Scott until they made it outside. Not before long, Stiles was right behind her almost colliding into her back. He definitely grew taller. He brushed past her and ran to his Jeep.

“Wait!” She ran to the passenger side. “Take me with you. I think I can help.”

Stiles looked at her across the hood of the car. He licked his lips in frustration. After three years of not speaking to each other and finally she spoke to him. She didn’t what compelled her to do so but she knew that Stiles could take her right to where Scott ran off to. If he said no, she’ll still be able to track him down but something inside of her wanted to be with him.

“Fine, get in,” he said. They both hopped into the car and Stiles sped down the road. In the side-view mirror, Serena saw two figures walking towards a black side on the side of the road. At first she didn’t care for them until she noticed that one of them was wearing a black leather jacket.

“Derek?” she whispered.

Stiles looked to his side at his former best friend. “Like Derek Hale? He’s here?” He tried to look at his side-view mirror but when they veered to the left a little, he focused his attention back to the front. “What’s he doing?” He didn’t even question that Serena called Derek on a first name basis.

“I think he’s taking Allison home.” She saw her friend’s curly hair disappear into the black Camaro. Stiles didn’t say anything and continued to speed down the road to get to Scott in time.

It wasn’t long before they got to Scott’s house. They jumped out of the car and headed towards the front door. Stiles ran up the stairs but Serena stopped at the foot of them. She could have followed him but something inside of her told her to stay put until further notice. She looked around. His house was the same as ever.

“No!” Scott growled. Serena perked her ears up to catch the conversation. “Listen, you gotta find Allison.” Judging from his growling and clenched speech, Serena knew that Scott wasn’t having a great time with the transformation.

“She’s fine, all right? I saw her get a ride from the party. She’s totally fine, all right?” Stiles said.

“No, I think I know who it is.”

“You just let me in. We can try--”

“It’s Derek,” Scott said. Serena’s eyes shot wide open. “Derek Hale is the werewolf. He’s the one that bit me. He’s the one that killed the girl in the woods.”

“Scott, Derek’s the one who drove Aliison from the party.” As Stiles said that, the door slammed shut and the repeated pounding from Stiles’ was imminent that Scott locked him out. After a couple more tries to get inside, Stiles ran downstairs almost slipping on the carpet below.

“Where’s Scott?” Serena followed him to the Jeep. She stopped besides the driver’s side with Stiles. “Where did he go?”

Stiles ran a hand through his buzz cut. Serena missed his longer hair but thought he still looked good either way.

“The woods probably.”

“And where are you going?” She moved to the side to give room for Stiles to climb into his seat. He turned on the engine and waited for her to get next to him.

“Allison’s to see if she made it alive.”

Serena handed her phone to him. “Her address is in my contact books. I’ll go look for Scott.” Before she sprinted away, she felt his hand tug on her wrist. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you know what you’re even doing?”

“Trust me on this. I know a lot more than you think.” She pulled away and dashed towards Beacon Hills Reserves.

She tracked down Scott’s scent until she saw two figures wrestling around on the leaf ridden floor. She thought about stopping them until she heard more footsteps approaching the two werewolves. Derek mouthed something to Scott and took off leaving the poor newly transformed werewolf in a state of confusion. Scott stumbled forward but before he could follow Derek a flash bolt flew into the tree near him. Serena found Derek through his scent.

“I thought I told you to keep an eye on him,” he growled.

“I’m trying!”

The two heard the footsteps approaching closer to Scott. The poor boy had an arrow stuck in his arm leaving him rooted in his place. Three guys came into view. Two men, who Serena could tell were the henchmen, were holding a shotgun and the one in the middle was wielding a large crossbow.

“I’ll take the one on the right,” Derek said.

“And I’ll take the left.”

They moved in sync, being careful not to make their locations known. Derek took the first guy out to distract the leader. When he was taken care of, Serena grabbed a handful of the man’s jacket and flung him into the tree behind. She quickly ran away to avoid being caught.

As she caught up with Derek and Scott, she heard the two engaged in a very heated discussion.

“I don’t want it,” Scott said. His chest heaved from exhaustion and adrenaline.

“You will.” Derek crouched closer to meet his face. “And you’re gonna need me if you want to learn how to control it. So you and me Scott, we’re brothers now.” He sat up and walked away into the darkness of the forest.

Serena jogged up to Scott and crouched down to meet his eye. “You alright?”

“Why are you here?” She could see the one hundred questions in his eyes. “Do you know about this stuff?”

She sighed. It was bound to come up someday. “Yeah. I’m sorry for keeping this secret for so long.” She helped him to his feet.

“Then you’re a werewolf too?”

She brushed from bits of leaf and soil from his body. “Oh no, I’m different. Come on, let’s get you home.” She gently guided him towards the edge of the forest.

The sun already came up by the time they ventured out onto the road. The two engaged in a very friendly conversation even as to catch up on each other's lives. She told Scott of her engagement with werewolves but she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to reveal what she was. That detail remained hidden. She switched the topic to Allison and bombarded Scott with questions upon questions as to how he scored a date with a beautiful girl like her. He chuckled at her disbelief.

“You probably healed by now.” She nodded at his hand covering his right arm where he got struck.

“But it still hurts.” He winced thinking about the pain.

“Probably because you don’t know how to fight against the wound.”

“How do you do it?”

“You’ll learn.”

A baby blue jeep stopped next to them. Serena hid behind Scott who already opened the door to the passenger seat. He turned around to signal her to get in first but awkwardly stood there when he realized the situation. After an awkward second, Stiles nodded at her and she climbed into the backseat.

“You know what actually worries me the most?” Scott said, leaning against the window. They were a couple of minutes into the ride.

Stiles looked in the rearview mirror and rolled his eyes with Serena. Despite not being around each other, they knew exactly what they always thought.

“If you say Allison, I’m gonna punch you in the head,” Stiles said.

Scott winced, not at the pain, but at the cold-shoulder he could get from his crush. “She probably hates me now.”

“I don’t think so,” Serena said. “But, you may want to come up with an amazing apology for ditching her at the party.”

“Or, you know, you could just tell her the truth and revel in the awesomeness of the fact that you’re a frickin’ werewolf,” Stiles added. This earned him a smack on the shoulder from Serena and a glare from Scott. “Okay, bad idea.” He patted his best friend. “We’ll get through this. Come on, if I have to, I’ll chain you up myself on full moon nights and feed you live mice. I had a boa once. I could do it.”

Serena chuckled while looking down at some loose threads from her skirt. Stiles looked in the rear-view mirror and smiled with her.

Somehow it felt like the old days when they hang as a trio. Sometimes Serena hated herself for ditching them. She loved them and still did even when they weren't on speaking terms. She always thought that she should have been the one to apologize but her stubbornness got in the way. To think that a werewolf bite was what got them to be together again, it was something out of a storybook.

#teen wolf #tw #tw fanfic

0 notes

redlemonz · 7 years

Text

Day #6

Wow, so that was.. something. Day 6 began part way through what resulted in phone calls equating to about 3 hours late last night. Honestly, there’s not much to say from it all - nothing’s changed, as expected. We’re still in the same predicament, maybe worse because I may have pushed a lot of her buttons through testing limits. By being a cheeky fuck.And of course, time was both our enemies as we both felt the intense loneliness and missed each other from the same time last weekend (+ sick day monday). But she’s dead set on achieving one thing when it comes to all this - getting over me. She perseveres and will never give into the heart’s desires as her brain overrides that. Assumptions and general conclusions of how things would play out have already been confirmed to her, due to her negative outlook upon our history. It’s not a conceivable idea that this thing lingering, is actually not necessary just part of the remaining strings of us, but rather the start of something new. Oh well, I don’t blame her - anything I do think of or say is either insanity or a fantasy supposedly, so be it. The strangest thing is, that as much as I want her in that moment, and in general, most of me is actually keeping pretty sane and calm. I once told her about a year ago that she taught me, without having to do anything but be her natural self, the concept of unconditional love. I feel as though I do in fact seem to be living that concept. I’m mostly okay with everything, and am happy just knowing she’s happy. Though it could be argued that there was some much needed tough love, I’ve benefited most from her, as she’s sculpted me into the man I am actually proud to be today. I’ve grown up so much more than I imagined along side her, and she’s taught & inspired me further to just be a better human being. Looking back at the absolute simplistic formula of last night - I’m just glad that she was able to have a few laughs and smile a bit by the end, and there was nothing more rewarding than turning that night around. Obviously she did the same with me - the sound of her voice and picturing her smile brought a gleeful ending to the night.

Day 6 - simple, familiar pleasures

Early morning, as I awoke - we started snap-conversing for over an hour regarding, well generally speaking, humanity. We had an intellectual exchange of our minds that found us both to be quite the philosophers - not to be arrogant or anything.. but we should definitely totally rule the world together. Or she should; she’s always been a Queen after all. Nevertheless, details of our conversation aside - a few words apparently reminded her of me which were shared.. “in a society that profits from your self doubt, liking yourself is a rebellious act”. This does in fact speak volumes. Feeling so fucked up and insecure feeds everyone around you, and it’s easier for them and yourself to take advantage of your head through your vulnerabilities. Though a lot of this can be attributed to your own overthinking. Not giving a shit is indeed the key solution - although that factor’s also limited by your own enemy ultimately, the mind. Easier said than done after all. You gotta be careful not to be an asshole, and to carefully pick the fucks you give out of that limiting bucket - it can certainly be life changing when you’re on the right path. But I digress from everything, as all I simply wished to convey is that I had the perfect start to my day - a smile upon my face, and the feeling that she was right here with me, in my mind and heart. I won’t unnecessarily let the reality of the circumstances between us change this moment, as those are just unneeded complications that make situations way worse than they actually are. Turns out that there’s always hope for a better future, and that love and care for another as simply people can truly go a long way. Poor cutie was cold last night and didn’t sleep enough though. Wish I could’ve kept her warm. Please note that my thoughts are currently scattered all over the place though, but in a atypical, less fucked up mindset sort of way that I’m use to. It’s just been a really long, eventful day that followed.

So the family went to lunch on the northern part of town, next to the beach. Another beautiful day with the sun shining - I can only imagine the expression on her face as she walks along the beach, so content and in her zone. Then there’s me, at times when I’m not beside her, i’d likely be slightly away or behind, taking pictures of this beauty in all her true nature & habitat. So as I stepped on that beach and felt the sound of the waves grasp my memories with her, I cherished every moment. The best part of this extravaganza is seeing my nieces in this environment. My sister was way too overly concerned and strict with the fact that their shoes and clothing would get dirty and filled with sand, rather than let them be free to live and love the spectacle that was. You see, my family’s never been quite use to this view of possibilities, and this sort of freedom, due to their own personal upbringing and harshly overprotective nature. I experienced this similarly as a result during my own childhood - until I learned to be that very rebellious act and live as I wanted to. She opened my eyes to this much further in the many adventures we’ve experienced together in such a short time. So inspired by her in that moment, and picturing what she would’ve been like in the shoes of my nieces at that age, I voiced my opposition to my sister and took charge. I took my nieces by the hand to the sand and let them go crazy. They had the time of their lives, and their faces lit up, similar to seeing them at Christmas morning. I gotta admit, I had these quick flashing-forecasted thoughts almost, of the father I dreamed to be some day in this moment, and knew I would make her proud as my partner in life. Though I know it’s just another silly fantasy as always of what could have been, don’t worry. I watched as the elder niece hunted for shells on the beach, and assisted her. All of a sudden, I was captivated and entranced by her actions that I decided it was adventure time once again. So I drove. Long story short, I ended up at 9 different beaches around the city within a timeframe of approximately 5 hours or so. I also had the support of a friend, now known as local homie (I just decided that - she lives down the road) for the second half, who assisted me on my mission and kept me sane enough (considering I’m pretty good at making hasty decisions such as this, of which 90% end up having some sort of negative repercussion). It was actually a ridiculously enjoyable journey to once again experience the familiarities of every beach - as when arriving at each one, I knew I’d been here with her. Walking and running on the sand with her. Singing songs with her. Swimming (or attempting to, in my case) with her. Laying next to her as she soaked in the sun. Gazing at the stars with her (though I didn’t get the opportunity to visit that one). Even be caught in a thunderstorm at night on what was our first non-date date in which I initially confessed my feelings to her and wound up in the friend-zone for many months (worth! She always is). Once again, I felt content and my soul calmly rested - my heart satisfied with what my brain offered, a refreshing change of events. We also snapped and conversed here and there during the day after our initial morning chat, which just felt natural and right. I understand that there certainly is an ardent possibility, that I could have expanded plenty more upon the details of today’s events, our conversations, utilise better and more varied vocabulary (that one’s always an ongoing case however), and just my usual general mindset, but I can’t seem to.. or want to. It was a good day.. and I’m going to try to not let overthinking ruin this one. What a surprisingly, unexpected, positive weekend #1. I very much hope she also had a splendid time herself, and is okay with me. Though that’s not to say the week ahead can’t alter that. I’ve learned that this feeling can only last so long, right? Correct - because it’s likely that my idiot self will find a route that will lead to ruining everything once again by making further shit choices, regardless of my good intentions. Because our mindsets and perception just drastically differ, and I’m a risk taker - with a history of bad luck. But I keep persevering. And though I just wish to be the sweet friend who’s displaying that this City misses her, the mission I embarked on today with the assistance of local homie.. may yet be regrettable in the near future.

0 notes