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singmyaubade · 1 year

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No Longer Yours

James Potter x Female!Reader

IB: In The Cold November Rain by @sweetsweetjellybean (Make sure to check it out, it’s incredible and one of the best I’ve ever read !)

A/N: First, I wanna say thank you to @sweetsweetjellybean for letting me be inspired by her story even though I am stupid, lol, but seriously (not kissing ass), check her series out; it is fantastic. Thank you to everyone for the kind comments, reblogs, and likes. I'm overwhelmed with love, and I'm so thankful that people actually want to read more of what I write but anyways, enjoy!

Summary: James had disregarded you for multiple years, but when you have an epiphany in your final year, how does it feel to taste his own medicine?

Warning: It may contain swearing and soon-to-be smut.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

"Are you sure you don't want me to walk you all the way?" Your mother asked, squeezing your hand.

"I'll be fine," You caressed her hand, "I'm still your baby, though."

She laughed lightly, "Make sure to write always," She held your face with her hands, "Have fun; it's your last year."

You touched her hand on your cheek, "I will."

You hugged her one last time, taking in her scent. Every time you said bye to her, it was as sad as the first, without you crying and begging to stay.

"Okay," She smiled, taking her hands off your face, "Are you still sure you don't wanna wait for James here? I mean, you've done it all these years."

Little did she know, you had been ignoring James's letters, all 128 of them. He had been persistent, asking you what was wrong and begging for a reply to know you were safe.

You even received a letter from his mother, Euphemia Potter, asking how you were and everything was in Paris. You would never have it in your heart to ignore Ms. Potter, so you replied dutifully and happily.

And then you got a letter from him saying,

Dear Y/n,

Are you really going to reply to my mother and not me?

Sincerely,

Your BEST FRIEND, James Potter.

You didn't reply, scoffing at the bolded best friend. The last letter you received was last week, him telling you he couldn't wait to see you and wanted to talk as soon as he got to you.

Bullshit.

"Yeah," You gulped, "I'm just gonna meet him inside."

"Well, I'm sure he misses you," She started fixing your coat, "I mean, you have been in Paris all of this time, and I just think it would be good for you to-"

You cut her off, pecking her cheek, "Love you!" You yelled, going towards the train.

She shook her head, "Be safe!"

You smiled at her, going through the wall to the train. The feeling still felt the same, nostalgic. This was the last time boarding the train, and it felt sad.

You remembered the first time you ever boarded it. James was practically high on excitement on his first day at Hogwarts. You were scared out of your bloody mind, not wanting to leave your mum and dad.

When you had finally stopped crying and holding onto your mother's leg, James was the one to hold your hand and tell you that he would take care of you.

Maybe that was the first time you had realized James was more than a friend to you, or perhaps you were a naive child.

But either way, he was the one that you needed protecting from. You realized he hadn't been your friend since the fourth year.

But this year wasn't about James; it was about you having the best last year of Hogwarts that you could have ever had.

You boarded the train, moving through the compartments to where Marlene, Mary, Dorcas, and Lily usually were.

Compartment 222.

It was pretty lucky; it is where you guys first met.

You opened the compartment, "Did you guys miss me?"

They excitedly cheered, "Now tell me, Y/n, how many French boys did you end up shagging in France?" Marlene asked.

"I would say about thirty, oui oui." You joked in a French accent as they all started laughing.

You sat down next to Dorcas, giving her a side hug. You saw Lily and Mary whisper something to each other, to which Mary said, "Just say it!"

You could see Dorcas in the corner of your eye, shaking her head no aggressively. Apparently, Marlene was the only one not in the plan, continuing to look at her newsletter.

Your eyebrow raised, "Am I missing something?"

"It's really nothing," Lily nervously said.

"Okay, so what is it?" You laughed.

"Well," Lily fiddled with her fingers, "You know how you specifically requested that none of us tell James that you were replying to our letters and not purposely ignoring him."

You said, "Uhuh." Already knowing where this going.

"Well, I accidentally let it slip out over the letter you had spoken to Marlene and me." She admitted.

Your mouth agape, "Lily."

"I know, I know," She groaned, "It was a total accident."

"How do you accidentally slip something out over letter?" Marlene snorted, earning a glare from Lily, but she still looked at her newsletter.

"What did he say after?" You asked, kneading your forehead.

"Why is she ignoring me?" Lily answered, "I just said it was none of my business, nor was I involved."

The group stayed in silence, waiting for you to reply.

You sighed, thinking about how much James would bother you more now that he knew you ignored him.

"Are you mad at me?" Lily asked quietly.

"No, of course not," You smiled, looking at her, "I just don't want to talk to him and explain everything,"

"Who says you have to?" Mary asked.

You looked at her confused, "I just can't ignore him." You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"And why not?" Marlene asked, now looking at you.

You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. You thought about it harder, and why wouldn't you be able to ignore James? Maybe it was hard because you have never done it before.

"So I just don't reply when he tries to talk to me?" You asked.

"Well, I don't support this, but," Lily started, "You could always just walk away when he says something to you."

"Wouldn't that be mean?" You asked.

"What did I tell you in person and in the letter?" Dorcas asked as you looked at her.

"Give him hell."

"So do it." She said.

They were right; you couldn't keep explaining to James what he did wrong; you just had to be done with him. You missed your friendship, but it took a turn years ago; you never said anything.

And you had to start not caring about him.

"So, how was your guy's summer?" You changed the subject, grinning as Marlene went on about how she perfected her Quidditch skills and would finally be the best chaser at Hogwarts.

Then Lily talked about her poetry that she started over the summer and how her sister had ripped a few of them, but she fixed them with a single swish of her wand and appreciated magic more.

Mary talked about how many soap operas she had seen and how she might even go into it after she graduates from Hogwarts.

Lastly, Dorcas talked about how this year was her year to be a seeker and how she got a whole book collection from her sister in New Zealand.

You began talking about how you tasted so many new foods and learned a bit of French, showing off your knowledge of the profound language.

You were interrupted by someone opening the compartment doors, "Hello," Remus greeted as you stood up to hug him immediately.

He caught you as you almost made him fall over by the movement, "Remmy, how much I have missed you," You said, kissing him on the cheek.

"And Y/n, how was France?" He asked, smiling.

"Quite a bore; every man was all over me; I was getting exhausted," You exhaled, sitting back in your seat.

"Well, if you ever want to get with a real man, I'm here, Y/n," Sirius said, nudging next to you as you looked disgusted.

"Did you have to bring him?" Dorcas asked Remus, rolling her eyes.

"He insisted," Remus shrugged.

"There needs to be some form of restraining order against him by all of us," Mary sighed.

"I thought his STDs were enough of a restraining order for us to keep away from him," Marlene teased.

Sirius interrupted before another insult could be made, "Ladies, this Sirius Black hate train is honestly starting to hurt," He pretended to be hurt.

"Aww, poor baby," You said in a baby voice, pinching his cheek as he swooshed your hand away.

"Now, Y/n, why are you ignoring poor Prongs?" Sirius asked as you wanted to throw him out of the train through the window.

"I thought he told you to dance around the question," Remus snorted.

Sirius disregarded, "What did my poor, stupid boy do this time?"

"I'm afraid it's none of your business, Black." You simply said.

"It is my business when my friend is sulking and bringing down my mood," He explained, "So why are you upset with him?" He asked.

Marlene abruptly laughed, "I'm sorry, but he really thought you would be the one Y/n would say something to,"

Sirius fake-laughed, "Oh McKinnon, I'll be laughing like that when you fall off of your arse on the field,"

Marlene mocked his facial expression as he did the same thing to her.

"May I please just arrive in peace without one word of James Potter? I'm begging." You reasoned.

"Well, at least I can tell him I tried and that Moony was no help." He glared at Remus.

"I told you I wasn't going to talk to her for him; it was all up to you," Remus said as Sirius went outside, and Remus waved everyone goodbye before closing the doors.

You could already tell it was going to be a long year.

After finally sorting the first year, everyone was allowed to dine. One thing you always missed about Hogwarts was the fantastic food; it was always incredible.

You were sitting in between Remus and Dorcas when Remus abruptly got up.

"Where are you going?" You asked, mid-laugh from a joke Marlene had made about Dumbledore and McGonagall in their secret chamber.

"Don't kill me," Remus stated before leaving. You looked confused, and James took the spot in front of you. You rolled your eyes, turning back to your meal.

"Please talk to me, Y/n," James pleaded.

You continued to stay silent, not even giving him a look as you looked at Marlene. She shook her head, and you continued to eat.

"I just wanna know what I did," James begged.

When you still didn't respond, he grabbed ahold of your wrist in an attempt for you to look at him.

"Don't fucking touch me." You spat before getting up and leaving the dining hall, telling your friends you were just gonna meet them in the dorm.

You tried rushing to the common room, but James was behind you.

"Y/n!" He yelled, speed-walking after you.

You continued to ignore him, going to the common room until you were stuck with the singing lady at the door who would not give it a rest.

"You have to talk to me," James demanded while the lady continued to screech.

"I don't have to do a thing you say," You scoffed, "In fact, I would prefer if you screwed off and stopped talking to me."

You went to one of the corridors, trying to escape him, but he followed you.

"Can't you just explain to me what I could've done for you to treat me like this?" He said roughly.

You turned to him, "There is not a single, simple explanation of what you could've done; there is a book of things," You snapped, "And treat you like this? Ever since I fucking stepped foot into your life, you have continued to treat me like shit." You stepped closer, "I stuck with you despite Lily, despite what other people said, and despite what you have shown me."

He continued to stay silent, "And now that I finally stick up for myself, I've done you horribly? Bullshit." You spat, "You have continued to show me exactly why I will never ever love you again, and yeah, for a matter of fact, I did love you, but you don't deserve me and never will."

Your words shocked him, not being able to mutter a word.

"Now you have nothing to say?" You manically laughed, "The smooth-talking and fantastic golden boy that shocked the century has nothing to say? What a pathetic-"

He kissed you suddenly precipitously, his tongue entering your mouth, entangling with yours.

For a second, you were drunk on his mouth, engaging with his kiss with as much passion as he gave you. His hand pulls on your hair lightly, making you moan.

His lips went from your mouth to your neck, sucking hard, red marks into your skin, knowing it would bruise.

Then you remembered everything. You remembered James's bitter words, his voice mocking you, and the boys laughing in the locker room.

You pushed his hard chest off you, breathing hard from the whole interaction. He looked at you, breathing as hard as you; realizing what he had done, he tried to touch your hand, but you pushed him again.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, "You're such an asshole," You cried, going to the Gryffindor common room.

You rushed up the stairs, immediately going into your bed. You couldn't believe what had just happened.

A part of you wanted to be grateful, grateful that you pushed him off, and realized that he only wanted to be with you when he felt convenient.

Another part of you wanted to continue kissing him, laughing with him, hugging him. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you had never figured it would be painful.

What if you had loved James for so long that you didn't know anything but to love him?

It was stupid and pathetic.

You were tired of being stupid and pathetic, you just wanted to move on from James Potter and get away from him, and if that wasn't possible, you had to make him regret being friends with you in the first place.

So you did.

You got up fresh and early in the morning when all of your roommates were sleeping, taking a shower immediately.

You looked in the mirror, your mascara smudged and dark red and purple hickies wearing your skin. You placed a shit-load of powder and concealer to cover up the parts you could.

You tried several spells to cover it up as best as possible, changing into your uniform.

You slipped into the most showing tights you could and wore your skirt from the fifth year that you so obviously outgrew, showing almost your ass cheeks.

You would be thankful not to get a write-up from McGonagall.

You unbuttoned two buttons off the top of your shirt, showing a tiny bit of your bra. It wasn't the most rebellious or seductive, but it could work.

The first challenge of that day was Potions; all of your friends were there, including all of the Marauders. But, thanks to Merlin was also Jacob Carrow's class, the Slytherin Captain that James hated with a burning passion.

They both could not be in the same room without spitting a hateful insult at the other. James once had a dream that you and Jacob had gone out, and he refused to talk to you for an entire day until you convinced him you would never do that.

You never considered yourself a liar.

The only problem was that Jacob was a dickhead, but so was James. You were surprised they didn't get along, maybe in another life.

You went inside Potions with your friend group, and you spotted Jacob Carrow in the back with an empty seat next to him as you told your friends you were gonna sit in the back.

You were thankful none of his friends were around him; it would be ten times more unbearable.

You sat next to him with a wide grin painted on your face, trying not to show your pain.

"Sitting next to me, Y/n?" He smirked, "I thought you were Potter's little puppy."

You tried to ignore your annoyance, "Pets tend to lean away from their owner at points; I guess that's my case." You shrugged.

"I am no Potter; I don't like having little girls follow me and do my shit for me." You could tell he was insulting you, but you stood tall.

"Good thing girls don't like to be in your presence." You snickered.

He smiled, "Love a kitty with claws," He leaned into his chair, "What do you want?"

"Do I have to want something?" You asked, popping your chest out to show your tits as he looked down at your face.

"You finally trying to make your boy toy jealous?" He asked.

You dropped the facade, "Are you gonna help me or not?"

"Control the temper, baby; I just wanna know what's in it for me." His body faced you.

"Isn't James being angry enough?" You asked.

"Nah, I can piss off Potter by just existing." He replied.

"What do you want?" You asked, half-annoyed.

"Meadows on a date with me."

You laughed, "Dorcas would never go on a date with you."

"Then no deal." He said with a fake smile.

"Ugh, fine, I'll talk to her if you just make James's life hell for a few minutes." You said.

"Okay, deal." He smiled, "Do you want me to touch you or,"

"Sure, but don't overdo it." You warned.

"I love when you flatter yourself." He said as James walked in, laughing with the Marauders.

Jacob immediately placed a hand on your thigh, slightly higher than preferred, but you continued smiling.

You started fake-laughing at Jacob's joke, which immediately caught James's attention. You looked behind you, and James's head looked like it would explode.

You looked back at Carrow, touching his shoulder and admiring how much muscle he had.

"What else do you want me to do?" He said through his teeth.

"I'll scoot closer to you, and you can put your hand on my waist." You suggested as he nodded.

You faced the front as Jacob touched your waist, tickling you with his fingers as you laughed.

"Mind keeping it down?" James scowled, "Not everyone wants to fucking hear that shit."

"How about you piss off, Potter?" Jacob mocked as he gripped your waist tighter, which pissed off James even more.

Before James could say another word, Slughorn started the class.

Throughout the class, Jacob would squeeze your thigh or tickle you, almost rising to touch your tits. Whenever he did those actions, you would giggle, earning daggers from James.

Once Slughorn instructed everyone to look inside their microscopes at the different ingredients used in Veritaserum, you took the opportunity to sit on Jacob's lap, looking in the microscope as he bounced you with his knee, causing you to laugh.

This really pissed James off, him storming up to you both. He grabbed your arm, practically flying you off of Jacob.

"Mr. Potter!" Slughorn yelled as the class watched the entire thing.

"Don't you dare fucking touch her," James said brusquely.

Jacob scoffed, "What will you do about it, Potter?" He stood, going closer to James.

You rolled your eyes due to the amount of testosterone in this conversation.

James got closer as you grabbed his hand, pushing him back, "Stop it." You said to him as he looked at you.

He grabbed your wrist, dragging you out of the classroom to an abandoned bathroom.

"James, let go of me!" You yelled as he pushed you inside the bathroom.

He was fuming, and you could tell which scared you. You hadn't seen him this angry since he lost a Quidditch match against the very man's lap you were on.

"You dragged me in here, so is there something you have to say?" You looked at him angrily, hands on your hips.

"Us not being friends anymore doesn't allow you to be a slut," He ridiculed.

You slapped him, "Don't you fucking dare call me a slut; I can do whatever the fuck I want,"

He wiped his mouth with a smile, "You think he gives a shit about you? He would fuck you and then dump you." He said as he moved closer, and you backed up.

"You don't know a thing," You replied nervously.

"He wouldn't even clean you up after," He continued, "He would let you rot there like a slut," Another step closer, which you took backward. You didn't understand if he purposely tried to intimidate or lecture you.

He didn't stop.

"He would tell all of his friends after," Another step, "He wouldn't dare spare you a minute after," Another step, "You would mean nothing," You were backed into the wall now, "But it's okay because you can do whatever the fuck you want."

"James." You kept eye contact with him, his eyes beaming into yours.

His mouth lowered to your ear, "But I think you want me to give a shit; you wanna see me mad." His hand snaked to your waist, "I guess you win." His body left yours, storming out of the bathroom.

Did you really win?

A/N: Y/n: 2, James 0??? There is also an alternate chapter to this because I couldn't stop writing two plots LOL.

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palmtreesx3 · 1 year

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Deeper for You

Summary: (5.1 k) It's your annual beach trip with the crew from Hawkins, something you've all been doing together your whole adult life after life forced everyone to part ways. You're all close, but this year, an accidental encounter in the outdoor shower makes you get a little closer with one person in particular.

This is self indulgence at its finest. Fresh off my last week at the beach this summer, I needed a little Beach Steve in my life to tide me over.

Steve x Reader, NSFW 18+ Accidental exposure, friends to lovers, breast play, female oral, fingering, dirty talk encouraged, a little orgasm denial, maybe a spank and unprotected intercourse in the shower.

Crystal water. Crystal skies. Beach chairs circled around umbrellas and coolers. Crisp beers slipped in aging koozies and passed around like old times. You and your friends have been doing this for years. Ever since goals and lives and even some wives have taken the group here and there, Nancy started organizing this annual beach trip for the group from Hawkins. Years and miles have nothing on deep seeded trauma, she said once, in a too cheerful voice despite it's truth.

The heat of the sand between your toes and the smell of suntan lotion have become a comfort to you, just knowing you're back there with your closest friends. As you all creep closer to thirty than you'd like, this week never fails to make you feel nostalgic, youthful and forget all of your problems because it never feels like an ounce of time has passed with any of these people.

This year Nancy had to upgrade the rental - more rooms for yet another married couple in the mix, Eddie adding a wife - a little too sweet but just enough sass for him - into the fold. It was your first time meeting her, really meeting her, because no bride has the time for new friendship on their wedding weekend, and you've had such a nice week spending time with her. Chairs in the sand by the waterline together with a book most afternoons, leaving the raucous energy that comes after some morning beers as background noise to your fantasies.

"What are you two ladies reading over here anyway" Steve pokes at your shoulder on his way down to the water to cool off.

"They're fantasy novels, Steve. Naughty books, if you must know." You tease back, Eddies wife blushing beside you at your brazen honestly.

"Naughty books? Like love stories where they kiss and share a bed?"

"No Steve, like '... And then she felt the tips of his finger circle her clit before toying with her folds and the wetness pooling between her thighs. Edging her, pulling her closer but never giving her cunt what she really wants'" you read in an exaggerated and breathy voice direct from your page, picking up right where you left off. "That, Steve, is Naughty Books. "

"Shit. Okay. Well I'll leave you two to it, then. What the fuck." and he trots off into the waves. Sunkissed skin a perfect contrast to the white, foaming waves he's now floating in.

"So, that… you guys have a thing before or something?" Eddie's wife asks softly. So sweet, you can't even be mad at her for it.

"Steve?" You laugh, "No-no no. Just go way back "

"Oh I'm so sorry" she squeaks out, "I just thought… I mean you guys. Nevermind."

"Don't worry about it. We're all a little too close for comfort sometimes. I get it. We just have always gave each other shit as long as I've known him, that's all."

Later that night, the whole group gathers in the back of the house around a huge built in fire pit, all taking turns sharing, giving updates about life and work and families.

Late nights have been happening all week around this pit, but tonight is cool, and the Sangria Robin and Max mixed up is keeping you chilled.

"Hey, honey. You finally quit or do you want to join us over here?" Steve calls over to you, beckoning to the group of smokers over on the bench seat to the left of the fire.

"Every time I try… someone like you offers me a smoke and here I am again." You shrug as you lean over to snag the pack of cigarettes from Steve's outstretched hand before taking a seat. You slide out a slim cigarette and pull the lighter from it's spot in the back, lighting up and passing it back, kicking your feet out on the coffee table in front.

"Someone like Steve, what's that supposed to mean? You hurling insults again?" Johnathan teases.

"No, no. Byers, shut the fuck up. Lemme enjoy this sweet nicotine with my friends in peace, okay?" You roll your eyes, not actually knowing what you meant either, before shooting a look at Max sitting with the group. "Since when did you sit on the smokers bench? Huh?"

"Don't start with me mom. You've tried to quit four times a year for the past 10 years, so I don't even wanna hear it from you." The redhead sasses back.

Such a beautiful, self assured young women she's grown into, despite having such poor eyesight from…everything that happened…you have always had a soft spot for Max, and she for you. The glasses she wears are thick, despite years of corrective surgeries, but they don't take an ounce away from how lovely she's grown to be.

"Yeah yeah, just shut up and enjoy it. I bet Lucas hates it. Doesn't he? Goodie two shoes." You quip back and Max giggles in agreement, both of you taking a long drag as a follow up.

"You two man-eaters are trouble." Steve jabs.

"Excuse me, man-eaters? The one who has been dating the same guy since middle school and me, who goes on what, maybe 4 dates all year? Yeah total man-eaters, Steve."

After finishing your smokes, you all rejoin the group, playing dollar games of cards and dice, laughing the night away at bad luck and bad jokes. El has been banished to watching over participating and when Eddie's wife asks why, the mutters and mumbling of a wide variety of excuses poured out.

"It's uh - against her religion!" straight from Dustin's mouth won out, mostly because it was the loudest. So now you're all pretending El is Muslim, and that's definitely not going to last the rest of the week.

It's nearing two am as you pad up the stairs, pockets 10 dollars deeper, sand still clinging to your feet just barely and Steve's button up on your shoulders from when he passed it to you to quell your chill. Just like every other night of the trip, you sleep like a baby, tucked in a soft mattress with softer sheets and the blanket of a decent buzz still coursing through your bloodstream.

The next day is the last on the shore and after a late start and breakfast cooked up by Nancy and Johnathan to sop up the hangovers the day goes on much like the rest before it. Relaxing in beach chairs and blankets, music softly humming from a boom box in the shade of the umbrella, balls being tossed in a friendly game of touch football in the loose sand by the dunes.

The tide was rough today and swept you and Eddie's girl away on your chairs once before you slipped your books back in your beach bag and decided if you can't beat it, join it. Frolicking in the waves together, the rest of the group is shortly behind you joining in.

It's not five minutes until Eddie is tackling his wife into the crashing waves, rolling her dramatically in the lapping waves and sand. Max and El are jumping through crashing waves, hand in hand trying to make it past the crest and to where it is calm. Some of the boys are sitting in the sand watching and enjoying the cool breeze you catch when you're closer to the sea.

You, well, you were enjoying yourself wholeheartedly. That is until you're making your way back to shore and a huge wave creeps up behind you and slams you to the ground. Water currents tossing you around a bit like a ragdoll, it's a moment before strong arms pull you up and out, wiping your hair out of your face and brushing the wet globs of sand off you as you regroup. It's Steve who's got you and brings you back to shore, where you flop down on the sand together and burst out in laughter after you're both sure that you're alright, making it even harder to catch your breath.

The day at the beach was way more sandy than usual because of it all, sitting in the sand, being thrown around by gritty waves and soupy sand finding it's way intermingling with your bathing suit. You just can't wait till the end of the day to shower and hose off, so you dip away to hop in the rinse shower along the side of the property. Door swung shut, you run the water cold so it's as refreshing as it is a welcome rinse to your body where the sand is sticking and scratches.

Hair slicked back by the cool droplets, you're realizing quickly that a simple rinse won't rid your swimsuit of all of the caked in sand. Maneuvering your emerald green one piece to shake free the grit of the ocean, you're making progress as you drop your wide set straps off your shoulders and start working out the sand from your upper half.

It's just then that Steve must have had the same idea, and he's traipsing through the door of the shower himself, only to find you, strap down, left breast fully exposed, tan lines of your right crisp and leaving nothing to the imagination the way the suit is bunching down, and your hands coaxing the water over them from the low pressure showerhead to work off the sand.

"Holy fuck!" You both yell at the same time.

Yours an exclamation. A "Holy FUCK!" A barked out reaction to the surprise. The admonishment of your friend who doesn't seem to pay a goddamn mind to anything going on around him or he would have heard the shower tap on and running when he approached.

But his… Well, his was a statement. A "Holy. Fuck." Drawn out. A deep and gravely comment made to acknowledge the surprise he's found. More of an interest than an intrusion.

So when you reached to cover yourself and hide from embarrassment as a knee jerk reaction, he didn't make quite as quick a move to leave you be. He lingered, just enough for you to notice and under his breath whispered out again "Holy fuck."

Adequately covered, or at least enough that you can feel functional at this point, you look at him to quip "Are you just gonna stare or what?" And you expect him to snap out of his titty haze and leave you be to shake out the rest of your sand trap, but he doesn't.

Instead he asks, "Well, is that an invitation?"

Your eyes narrow at him, and he shrugs in reaction. "You can't be serious, Steve. Get outta here."

"I save you, and this is the thanks I get?" He teases, and you can't help but see how his eyes, blown out and black, don't move from your body when he says it.

"Steve." You say, quietly.

"Yeah?"

"I can thank you later." comes out just above a whisper.

"I think I'd rather you thanked me now."

When you don't argue back, or say anything for that matter, he takes that as enough of an answer as he needs. He knows you, and he knows that you have no problem telling someone to take a hike, so if you're not yelling at him like he's a small boy who got his hand caught in the cookie jar, he knows you're inviting him to take a bite.

So he's inside the shower quicker than your mind can even catch up to what's happening. He's crowding your space and reaching backwards to do the one thing you forgot to do yourself, hook the damn lock. You're pretty sure this man hasn't moved his eyes from you since the moment the door opened and at this point, you're meeting his gaze.

A sweeping hand, under your ear and landing on the nape of your neck is what shakes you out of your daze and before you know it his lips are on yours. It's a bruising thing, the way he presses them into yours, pulling you closer still by where his hand is cupping your head with his broad hand. You come up for air just a second before he backs off and you find yourself, open mouthed and smiling into his lips, still pressing into you. "Fuck. Honey. I- you okay? With this? I don't wanna… "

"I know I tell you this all the time, but this is different. Steve, you fuckin talk too much. Shut. Up." You say, emphasizing your words with two little tugs to his own hair where your hands have snaked around, too.

And he takes this welcome advance as an opportunity to wrap his other hand around you, up and under your arm, resting at the center of your back. Pressing together, you're so close. Impossibly so, and every little tick of the hip or twitch of the lips can be felt by the other instantaneously. He's testing you out but getting bolder by the second when he experimentally rolls his hips just a bit before coaxing your legs a bit wider to slot his knee in between. You gasp out at the feeling of him against you and involuntarily find yourself rolling your cunt against his thigh.

"Ah-oh fuck. Shit. Steve." You squeak out, as you look down to see that he's tucked up his swim shorts high enough that your grinding on his exposed thigh. Bristly hair on his legs commingling with the scratch of the sand and sea salt on your own thighs.

"C'mon, honey. You came in here to get clean. Me too. Lemme help you, yeah? '

Nodding your permission, he gently slips his fingers under the still loose straps of your suit, coaxing them down further, fingers ghosting over your arms as he works them down.

You've been doing this trip for years, and you swear the last thing you ever thought would happen was having Steve fucking Harrington peeling off your wet swimsuit in the shower. "You sandy all over, huh? Me too. Gotta rinse you off." he says, as he's reaching up for the shower head, detaching it from its base and bringing it down in between the two of your chests. Holding it there for a moment, he seems to consider this whole thing for the first time. "You-your good, right? I mean, I trust you. Do you trust me? "

"Yeah Steve, I do." You say, pressing your forehead to his and blinking away droplets gathering on your eyelashes.

He pulls the rest of your swimsuit away from where it's suctioned on your tummy and works it down your body, dropping heavy and wet on the shower floor. Once it's out of his way, he's back on your lips, sucking in your bottom lip just as you feel the cool water hitting your clit. Steve moves the shower head gently but purposely around your whole cunt, paying attention to your sensitive bud between passes through your folds. "Gotta get you cleaned up, huh? Need you clean for me. For what I'm gonna do next." He teases and you moan at his words.

Not exactly sure what he has planned just yet, you let him keep working your pussy clean and with every second of the pulsing jets of water hitting your clit rhythmically. "Yeah, baby I think you're all set." He states, replacing the shower head where it belongs and reaching his free hand down to rub through your folds, checking to be sure you're comfortable and free of that pesky sand.

When he's met with yet another whimper he's immediately dropping to his knees on the wet planks of the shower floor "Can I please, please taste you. Please."

"I didn't take you as one to beg, Harrington." You whisper out the tease.

"I will for this - for you. God, would you just answer me?"

You look down at him and nod but he wants your words instead, commanding you to speak up. And so you do, you gasp out confirmation just as his lips latch on to your already sensitive clit. He suckles there a little bit, before moving to make his tongue wide and flat coaxing noises from you that he doesn't want to forget the sound of.

He throws your thigh over his shoulder, giving him deeper, more angled access to your cunt, working you, moving it in and left to right. You cry out as his nose nudges at your clit while he slips a finger in up to his second knuckle and the cry turns silent as he keeps up his ministrations. Droplets of water are tickling down your chest and stomach, soaking his hair and face where he stays tucked in between your thighs. He shakes his head back and forth tapping at your clit with his movement and making you see stars.

Adding in another finger, he keeps lapping at your pussy, taking breaks to nip at the place where your thighs meet your sex and back again. He licks off a trail of water along the seam of your leg before making his way back to your center. Scissoring his fingers, he groans right into you and the vibration of it all drives you wild. "God, you fuckin taste like heaven. So good." And he dives back in, running his wide tongue along your entrance, drawing it front and upward toward your clit.

This time he pauses and presses his tongue up into the base of your clit, holding it there just as he presses both long fingers up and into your spongy spot, freeing the most wanton sound yet from deep within your throat. It spurs him on to keep going, pulsing that tongue and stroking that spot within. You're tensing and shaking under his strong grip and soft tongue, leg still hiked high over him, water cascading around the both of you. You're tumbling over the edge quickly after that.

In a bit of a daze and with wobbly knees, you swing your leg back down off his shoulder and bring him up towards you by his ears, wanting to taste yourself on his tongue in ways you never have before, and he looks beautiful like that. Eyes wide and wanton, hair dripping wet down his hair spattered chest, jaw slack in his own lust and pleasure, lips a deep pink and swollen from working you up down there. You bring him up fully to meet your lips and groan into his mouth, your taste heady and salty and beachy.

"I think you're clean" he laughs out as he pulls back just slightly and you can't help but bark out a laugh back. He takes the opportunity to latch on to your neck and bites at the skin under your ear.

In that moment you decide you're not done with him.

Tugging at the ties of his swim trunks, Steve pulls back to look at you. "N-no, we don't have to."

You hear his words but you also feel the hardness underneath those trunks, "Steve, it's - it's no big deal. You started this. Let me… let's finish, yeah?" You eye him teasingly, eyebrows raised, "Something tells me you want to."

"You're a menace, you know that right? Always have been."

"Yeah, but you're into it, apparently." you stand on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear.

"Fuck. Fuck. Yeah." He gets out as you lick the water droplets up "Seeing you here every year. Highlight of my trip. Swear to God."

And as his soaked trunks hit the floor, the pair of you are both fully exposed standing under the running water together. Running your hand along his chest, playing with the tufts of hair there, you hook your finger though the thin chain hanging from his neck and pull him closer. "Steve." You whisper into his mouth.

"Yeah, whaddya need, honey?"

"You. God just, please fuck me. Okay?"

Clutching you close by the waist, he hikes your leg up and around his hip, reaching down along your ass to rub at your pussy from behind, working you up again. Almost teasing. The rock hard length of him is pressed up between your two tummies, begging to be paid attention to, so you break your bodies apart for just a second to angle him down, slipping if wetly between your lower lips - a mix of water and your hot dripping slick letting him slip through your folds.

A whimper slips out of your lips as his head catches your clit and he takes the opportunity to press into you, sounds something like a growl falling from his own lips at the feeling. Your mind is going blank, but the one thing you're sure of is that Steve Harrington's dick is huge. "Ohmigod, you're, bi- oh" you moan as he adds another few inches, moving slowly for you. "Fuck, you're huge. Jesus, Steve."

"Yeah? Biggest you ever had? God, tell me it's the biggest you've ever took."

"Shit" you hiss, as he bottoms out inside you, yelping out as you both finally meet at the base. "Yeah, shit. No one's ever been that fuckin deep, Steve. Holy shit."

"Fuck, yeah. I'm gonna move now, okay? You're good, right?" And you nod, enthusiastically. Almost too enthusiastically.

You've known Steve almost your whole life. You've played on playground swing sets growing up, rolled your eyes at his antics at your friends' parties in high school, cheered him on at basketball games and worked alongside him as lifeguards at the country club pool. You give him shit, he gives it back to you. You share comfortable silences and close friends. He's had your back in the face of monsters and raging fires… But right now, all that's on your mind is how he's pounding into your pussy in this shower and why this has never ever happened before in all these years. Because Jesus Christ, it's feeling euphoric.

The slapping of skin echoes loudly in the wooden and metal enclosure of the shower, bodies slick with water , hands gliding along your back and along your ass, keeping that knee hiked high for him, yours clutching the front of his shoulders and digging crescent moons into his skin. He's making noises, has he thrusts up into you at a bruising pace, hitting your cervix and making you cry out…but he's holding back all the same and all you want is him to let go a little more.

"Fuck, wait. Holy shit. Lemme just… " you drop your leg down and hear his small whine as he slips out of you, but you're quick to flip your body around, leaning forward and bracing yourself on the beams of the wooden door frame, shaking your ass at him in an invitation to get close to you again. "Wait. Wait… " you gasp out as you feel his tip nudge against your entrance from behind.

"What's wrong? Are you .. are you okay? I can stop." He gets out through heaving breaths.

"No. I'm good… but if you wanna finish me off, you gotta do one thing for me." Looking over your shoulder, giving him a playful but serious look.

"What'dya need. Honey. Anything. What do you want?" He holds his cock, pulsing and screaming to be let back inside your warm and velvety walls, dots of precome rinsed off by the droplets of water as fast as they emerge.

"Don't hold back. Just… .let me hear you. I wanna hear you. Talk to me. Don't shut up. And fuck - fuck me harder" you hiccup out.

"Yeah, yeah okay. I'll … I'll - fuck" he pushes in fully in one slide, no resistance from you in the least. "You wanna hear how good you make me feel huh? Always so cocky. Jesus."

His fingers are pressing into the tops of your thighs, purple mottled marks already blooming there under his fingertips as he pulls you backwards, spearing you on his cock, meeting him thrust for thrust. His other hand is wrapped around your waist, reaching for the soft of your belly, snaking up your chest until he finds your tits, nipples peaked with the chill of the air now that you're not directly under the stream of water. He runs his thumb along your nipples, giving them a playful flick back and forth before massaging them and pulling you up to meet him, back to chest.

In this position, you can drop yourself down as you meet his upward thrusts, bouncing on his cock and you feel his tip nudging a particular spot inside you that makes your walls constrict. "Oh honey, yeah? That's it. That's the spot isn't it?" And you can tell that has Steve's mind going off the deep end, making good on his promises to let you hear him, he's babbling, water splashing and raining down on you both, his grunts getting louder, and your name slipping off his lips in a whisper, like it belongs there.

Reaching back and around his neck, you turn so that you can see him and tilt his down to meet your gaze. Mouths both open, panting into one another, lips touching but never connecting because you can't quite sync up with the way you're both grinding on each other. "Jesus Christ, hnng fuck, I'm gonna… honey. Where do you want me? C'mon. Tell me."

You hear his sharp intake of a breath and feel his lips latch on to your throat, leaving sloppy kisses and sucking a bruise into it that you know you'll have to explain to your friends later. "Nnn-no. No. Not yet. I told you, lemme hear you. You're holding back I can tell."

"Oh-okay yeah. Gimme a sec. " He breathes through his nose taking in the scent of whatever vanilla soap you were using before he barreled in, maybe a little coconut still left over from your sunscreen, too. He exhales as his hand drifts down your front, settling over your mound and expertly finding your clit once again. He's rubbing figure eights, before sliding it between his two fingers, giving it pressure and pull from the sides as he continues to thrust into you from behind, bouncing you with very little effort because of how wet and slick you are from the shower.

"You're a fuckin' piece of work, you know that. Shit - taking me like this… fuck. " He growls out as he bends you forward fully now, holding you up by your chest as he rams into you. Leaning over just enough to get close to your ear he whispers in "Ya gonna let me come now? Fuck - ya gonna let me put it on your back? Huh? Your tits? Where do you wanna have it, honey?" He hisses as you grind your hips backwards and clench down hard on his shaft, squeezing on him and making his thrusts slow down, become more meticulous, more purposeful.

You're gasping in air and squeaking out noises of all kinds in time with his thrusts, telling him just how good he's making you feel between breaths. Just how deep he is hitting you. Just how much you wanna hear him when he comes. He's huffing out breaths and promising you things like next time as he's incoherently babbling praises at you as you ride back on his dick.

"You like when I talk about coming for you? You wanna have it, yeah?"

"Y-yeah I wanna. Inside. Do it inside, fuck!" You shout out, water from the showerhead beating on your back as his thrusts are jolting you forward where you're braced against the door. The janky little rusted metal latch holding on for dear life as he continues his pace, chasing his high and praying to God you let go with him.

He's feeling bold now that his brain is only chasing your orgasms. He groans the loudest moan you've heard from him this whole time as you feel him tense behind you, keeping up his movements but, just barely. His hips are stuttering and his hand falls down on your ass in a loud smack. "Ohhh shit. Honey. Yeah. That's what I'm talking about."

Your walls give him one last squeeze and you grip him tight, legs shaking under you as your orgasms rushes over your whole body. He has to hold you up as it rolls through your body, flashes going off behind your eyes as you cry out with pleasure. The pain from the smack to your ass being washed away with the cool of the water trickling over you.

It takes him only three firm thrusts more to fill you up, stuttering sounds falling from his lips. Incoherent blabbers and praises and gasps of your name spurting out along with his come.

You're both absolutely breathless, heaving chests and deep sighs filling the air while still connected to one another. Steve pulls you up slowly as he slips out of you, and spins you around. Still cradling your body and wrapping you into him, he pulls you both under the water to rinse off and come back down from wherever you both are floating off to right now. As you stand there swaying under the cascade, he brings his lips to your temple with a kiss as he mutters "I did mean it. I love seeing you here every year."

You hum along with him, because you do love seeing him too. You just never thought about it like this before. And now that you have, you're pretty sure it's the only way you can from here on out.

"We should probably get back down to the beach. I'm sure at least one of those nosey dipshits have noticed were both missing by now." Steve says against your skin.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right. But you are the one explaining these marks you left on me. I'm not saying a peep."

"Aw, c'mon sweetheart. You had a lot to say when I was in-"

"Stop that right now. If you wanna even think about doing this again, you're gonna stop right now." You roll your eyes at him while wrapping yourself with a towel and unlatching the door. As you back out and start up towards the house to grab a new swimsuit, he sees the grin on your face.

"Yeah, okay honey. Shutting my mouth now...so I'll definitely see ya later, then." He says with a wink, just as the door shuts and your left naked, wrapped up in Steve Harrington's towel with all your friends gathered round the grill out back making lunch watching you as you make your way around the path.

Eddie snarls a wide grin at you as he brings both thumbs up, his wife slapping his chest when she notices. "Hey Nance!" He yells out. "I think Harrington's got himself a new roommate for next trip!"

#joe keery #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #Spotify

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localcoffeeshop · 4 months

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i never posted this but a few months ago i was kind of toying with a too young rewrite au that wouldve come a bit later in the show and been more about PB's arc than finn's crush... this couldnt have realistically ever played out in the show because i definitely came up with it having the hindsight of uncle gumbald & neddy and stuff but to me it's still fun to think about, like, what if this is how this episode went?

notes abt this au under the cut:

PB resents being reverted back to childhood BECAUSE she's immediately aware of the way that being 'young and powerless' reflects poorly on the status of her empire... other princesses (like breakfast princess), starchy, lemongrab, etc. will look down on her for being 'too young'.

having been responsible for the wellbeing of others from pretty much day 1, childhood was never a time she could be fully nostalgic for (she'd rather be nostalgic for before that, when she was part of the mother gum)

she also associates childhood with the memory of gumbald trying to corner her and dump the dum-dum juice on her, feeling so small and vulnerable.

she personally has to make enough candy mass to re-age herself back into an adult using SCIENCE, however it takes a certain amount of time so the story has this sort of built-in timer where it's inevitable that she'll go back to being an adult SOON, but for now she needs to make do. i just wanted a low stakes vibe

i have to concede that if this version of the story did happen it would completely disrupt a lot of the later arcs from the show by speeding them up (arcs & episodes that i really like!)... an episode where pb learns how to have a childhood as i see it means that she learns the value of stepping back from her controlling tendencies way before the events of the cooler. also, as i see it, finn would fall out of his infatuation with PB at this point as well, rather than continuing to yearn. it's like a merging of too young with too old. so really this au has to kind of exist in a vacuum. ITS JUST FOR FUN.

#adventure time #princess bubblegum #bonnibel bubblegum #art that i drew #i dont really even like these drawings anymore but i wanted to share it anyways

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imaginespazzi · 4 months

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Part 7: Home

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

These hands had to let it go free and this love came back to (us)

(In which with bittersweet feelings, a nostalgic writer, finally writes the end of the story)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst and Fluff

Words: 7.1K

TW: Swearing, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Hello my loves! I can't believe we've actually reached the end, who would have thought huh? I'm not sure if there will be an epilogue, mainly cause I don't know what I'd write but never say never. I don't really know how I feel about this chapter and if I've done the end I pictured justice but I really hope y'all like it anyways. There's a fair amount of creative liberty taken with WNBA logistics but please just accept it for the plot. Per usual, did I edit? Yes. Are there grammar mistakes and typos anyways? Yes. As always, let me know what you liked and disliked. And finally, to all my lovelies who have liked, reblogged, commented, sent in an ask, dm-ed me or simply just silently read this fic, I just wanna say thank you guys so, so, much, y'all have made writing every word worth it and I hope you enjoyed reading this as much I enjoyed writing it <3

August 2018

Paige swears, tonight, there are stars in the Minnesota night sky she’s never seen before in her life. The summer sky has darkened with nightfall, yet the shine of the moon and its companions make it still seem ever so bright. Or maybe, it’s just the girl lying next to Paige that makes tonight feel luminescent, sparkling with the promises of something not quite like friendship that Paige has never felt before. She’d spent the whole day with Azzi at the Minnesota State fair, trying to suppress these new butterflies in her stomach that seemed to have taken birth over their time in Latvia. Or well, maybe they’d been there from the start, but they’d really only started this dance of theirs, the one that makes Paige feel all tingly when Azzi smiles, over the course of this summer.

“Paige it’s cold, stop hogging the blanket,” Azzi chastises, breaking Paige from a trance, as she tugs on the pink and purple blanket covering the two of them, “I knew we should have brought two of them.”

“It’s barely on me” Paige argues for the sake of arguing but she shifts anyway to allow the younger girl to pull the blanket, so clearly meant for one person, a little more towards her, “besides, it’s about sharing body heat.”

“You’re not even warm enough to share body heat,” Azzi mocks as she makes a show of tracing a finger down Paige’s arm and everything in the blonde feels like it’s been lit on fire at the touch. And she wonders if Azzi feels it too, the electricity, the sparks of this could ruin me that scatter through her veins before finding themselves setting her heart ablaze. It’s too much and Paige shakes Azzi’s hand off with a little more force than she means too.

When Azzi sends her questioning look, she splutters through an excuse, “your hands are cold too. Can we just do the boring shit we’re here to do.”

"Stargazing is not boring,” Azzi says indignantly, opening the little stargazing booklet she’d brought with her, flicking through the pages looking for something specific.

To be honest, sitting still in an open field and squinting at the sky trying to figure out a distant constellation isn’t really Paige’s brand of entertainment. She’s a fidgety person by nature, constantly embroiled in the urge to be moving. But Azzi had brought it up the other day, with pleading eyes and a hopeful grin and well, sometimes it felt sinful to deny Azzi of anything she wants. And that’s how they’d ended up at a campsite, not too far from the State fair, lying on the grass, heads tilted towards each other, with a single blanket shielding them from the summer breeze.

“Okay,” Azzi says after a while, using her fingers to point out a pattern in the sky, “I think that one’s Cassiopeia.”

“If you say so,” Paige nods, not really sure what she’s supposed to be looking at.

“Paaaaige,” Azzi whines, “focus.”

“Dude I can barely see anything, the fuck am I supposed to focus o-”

Before Paige can finish her sentence, she feels herself being pulled by the younger girl, the side of her body fitting into the crook’s of Azzi’s like a perfect puzzle piece. She looks over at the brunette, and the protest dies on the tip of her tongue, as she realises just how close Azzi is to her now, all semblance of air leaving her lungs. Paige gulps, eyes tracing every inch of her best friend’s face, stopping of their own accord at Azzi’s lips, before guiltily flashing back to meet the younger girl’s eyes which are just as focused on Paige. And it feels like there’s no force in this world right now that could make either of them look away. Except maybe the force of friends don’t do this.

“Just focus,” Azzi breaks contact first, turning her face back at the stars, before gently grabbing hold of Paige’s hand so she can guide it in the pattern of the constellation. And Paige still doesn’t really see it, doesn’t even particularly care about seeing it, but if it gets Azzi to hold her hand, soft skin putting light pressure against her palm, she thinks she’ll try to see some random lines in the sky forever.

“It’s pretty.”

“You don’t see it do you?”

“Nope,” Paige’s grin widens when Azzi chuckles, shaking her head fondly. Something in her blooms, delighted at being the reason for that. And she’s always prided herself in being funny, she thinks of herself as a little bit of a comedian really, but she’s never wanted to make anyone laugh quite as much as she wants to make Azzi laugh.

“Well that’s enough stargazing for us then,” Azzi rolls her eyes, closing her little booklet and making a move to sit up but Paige is quicker, pulling the younger girl back down and interlocking their fingers. Her own overeagerness causes a tinge of embarrassment to race up her cheeks, and she hopes it’s dark enough that Azzi won’t see the pale pink blush taking over her face.

“It’s peaceful out here,” she says quietly, sounding shy even to her own ears and she can’t help but wonder when the hell that happened, “you wanna stay a little longer?”

“Yeah okay let’s stay longer,,” Azzi agrees and sometimes when Azzi speaks like that, her voice lyrically soft with a secret smile hidden in it, Paige wonders if maybe it would be okay to hope for, to feel something more because maybe, just maybe, Azzi feels it too.

“You know you should come to the state championship,” Paige says after a second of silence, trying to keep her voice nonchalant but she can hear the wishfulness bleeding into it anyways.

Azzi raises an eyebrow, “isn’t that in March? That’s like months and months away.”

“Yeah but- well-” Paige shrugs, cheeks burning just a little bit, “you probably wanna book in advance cause like tickets and stuff you know?”

“You don’t even know if you’ll be in the state championship. There’s still a whole season to go.”

“Oh I know. I know we’re definitely gonna be there.” Paige smirks, cockiness back in full-fledged form.

“Then I’ll be there,” Azzi says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world, “you better win though Bueckers.”

“Watch me,” and she’s jutting her chest out in arrogance sure, but really everything inside her is swelling with something else, a feeling she’s starting to understand a little too well, a feeling that terrifies her, a feeling she doesn’t think she’s quite ready to let herself feel yet, “it would be nice you know, to win a championship together at some point.”

“I don’t think my parents would be on board with moving to Minnesota.”

“I’m sure I could convince them,” Paige feels a little giddy at the thought, “but I meant more like college, like UConn.”

It’s a topic they’ve stumbled upon a couple of times, with each other, and with the other girls at Team USA. And as much as Paige would love for her other teammates to follow her to her dream school, she’s practical enough to know they might have other priorities. But the thing is that with the rest of the girls, it’s just something she’d like to happen but with Azzi, now that Paige has said it out loud, she’s beginning to realise how desperately she wants that, her and Azzi, on the same team, fighting the same battles and winning the same wars, together.

“Don’t think you can win a national championship without me Bueckers?” Azzi smirks, twisting her head towards Paige, eyebrows cocked in arrogance.

“Of course I can,” Paige’s face softens, the vulnerability that only ever seems to come out around her best friend seeping on to her features, “but I think it would be fun to win one with you. Someday.”

“Someday, “ Azzi whispers back, giving Paige’s hand a light squeeze, and then her eyes widen at the sky, “holy shit is that a shooting star? Oh my god Paige look up, quick, it’s beautiful.”

In the dark of the night, a rare flicker of gold shoots across the obsidian Minnesota sky. Paige has never seen one before but it seems fitting really, that she’d see one tonight.

“We have to make a wish,” she whispers and Azzi, never one to really believe, rolls her eyes but she follows Paige’s lead, closing her eyes. And the thing is Paige could wish for a lot of things really, but she finds herself thinking of only one word that sums up all she could ever want: someday.

***

August 2026

They’ve been playing against each other for years now and yet the thrill of the face-off still hasn’t quite worn off. Back in the handful of games in high school, it had been quickfire friendly trash talk, two best friends going at it like the competitors they were. College had been drastically different, each game, each play, underlined with the tension of two people who still hadn’t quite figured it out. But Paige thinks her favourite version of them as opponents is definitely this one, the one where they might be on different teams in the WNBA, but off the court, they both know they’re on the same side, together.

Their relationship isn’t quite a secret; it would have been impossible to hide if after the kiss at the 2025 national championship. But they’d kept as quiet about it as possible, skillfully dodging media questions, wanting to shelter it from the prying eyes of the public. It makes playing each other on national television, just that little bit more entertaining, trying to keep things as cordial as possible. If Paige’s hands end up just a little too close to Azzi’s waist, lingering a little longer than necessary against the patch of skin she’d marked with a hickey earlier this morning, and it makes the younger girl shiver, then that’s just a tactic to win. And if Azzi breathes seductive thoughts of what she’d like to do after the game when guarding Paige, and it makes the blonde want to turn around and kiss the smirk off of her girlfriend’s lips, well that’s just another innovative defensive strategy.

“Be a good girl for me and move,” Paige whispers, the double entendre in her voice apparent, as she tries to dribble the ball past Azzi. There’s only a minute or so left in the last meeting of the regular season between Paige’s Lynx and Azzi’s Mystics -funny how that had worked out- and the score is painfully close, with the Mystics closing in on the Lynx’s two point-lead.

“Always a good girl for you P,” Azzi smirks, her voice the quietest it could possibly be, but Paige hears her next words like they’re on a loudspeaker in the area, “it’s why I’m wearing your favourite purple panties.”

It takes a second, a second where Paige’s eyes gloss over with lust, as her mind rushes back to the last time she’d seen, the last time she’d touched the silky undergarment, for the ball to be stolen from her hands. She’s a step too slow to recover and by that time Azzi’s already scored the easy lay-up to tie up the game, a mischievous grin adorning her normally stoic game face.

On the other end of the court, Napheesa draws a foul and Paige and Azzi end up next to each for free throws. Paige is seething, unsure if the heat curling up her spine is from the game or the girl standing next to her.

“Sorry baby, all’s fair in love and war right?” Azzi teases, pinky brushing against the blonde’s, “I’ll make it up to you later if you want.”

“You’re such a fucking menace,” Paige practically growls. She does want, in fact she’d like it right now if it was possible. Two years they’ve been together, longer if you count the inbetween, and still, every time Azzi lights a match, Paige feels herself burn just as brightly as the first time she’d felt that magnetic pull.

“Learnt from the best,” Azzi hums with a grin as Napheesa hits both free throws.

The rest of the game passes in a blur of frenzied shots and hurried fouls but the Lynx pull out an eventual, much-needed win, to better their chances of clinching a higher seed in the playoffs. After missing the playoffs in 2024, the Lynx, despite having relatively low odds, had secured the no.1 pick and there had never really been a doubt that they would pick Paige. She’d helped the team get back to the playoffs last season but they hadn’t made it out of the first round. A championship doesn’t seem quite possible yet, but Paige has her fingers crossed that they’d at least make it to a semi-final this time.

“The two of you are terrible at this,” Aaliyah’s the first person to hug Paige during the handshake line, “I thought you’d jump each other’s bones in the middle of the game today.”

“We’re not that bad,” Paige rolls her eyes at her former teammate. She high-fives a few more of the Mystics team until she gets to Azzi, who’s already smiling, despite the loss. The cameras are quick to crowd them, clearly wanting a more sensational picture than the one they’re likely to get. Still, despite the unwanted attention, Paige lets herself nestle into the crook of Azzi’s neck.

“You owe me twice tonight,” she whispers into the younger girl’s ear, “one for the win and one for that bullshit you pulled on the court tonight.”

Azzi’s voice is breathless when she replies, “I can give you way more than two.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“It’s a promise.”

***

“With the new rules, after this season you’ll be a free agent, have you given any thought to that?”

Waiting for the Lynx’s turn in the media room, Paige hadn’t been paying much attention to the questions being asked to the Mystics players, her focus solely on how hot her girlfriend always looked post games. But the words ‘free agent’ pique her interest. The W had changed the rookie contract rules for first round draftees to two years and that meant both Paige and Azzi would be free agents after this year. But while it hadn’t reached the media quite yet, the Lynx were likely to use their core designation on Paige. Which meant the only one of them making any decision about next season would be Azzi. It was a subject the two of them were cautiously tip-toeing around, using the shield of distance to avoid talking about what it could mean for them.

“I’m focused on the season, this team and the rest of our games. I’m not really thinking about the future,” Azzi answers diplomatically.

“You’ve obviously got very strong ties to the DC area but you also went to UCLA, if the Sparks or maybe even the Valkyries, considering your connection to Steph Curry, were interested, and there have been rumours that they are, would you consider it?” the same reporter prods.

“Again, I’m not currently thinking about any of that,” to anyone else Azzi probably sounds neutral but Paige has studied the sheet music of Azzi’s voice to the point where she knows what’s hidden behind every note, behind every little indent. The tinge of irritation is masked by a smile, but the line of questioning is clearly unappreciated.

“And what about the Lynx?” the persistently oblivious reporter continues and this time Paige sucks in a breath, “you have some ties to that team don't you? Have you given some thought to maybe going there?”

Azzi’s eye twitches ever so slightly, “the Lynx just beat my team. The only thoughts I have right now are about how to beat them next time.”

That elicits a laugh from the media and finally the rather obtuse reporters seem to understand that he’s not going to be able to pry anything newsworthy from Azzi’s mouth. But even if he hasn’t achieved his desired effect, he’s succeeded in making Paige’s mind start running in circles. She hadn’t let herself think about it yet, the potential of Azzi joining the Lynx, the potential of playing with Azzi, the potential of finally just being with Azzi. Because facing the potential for all of that, facing all the things she wants means also facing the potential that maybe Azzi doesn’t want any of that.

***

The air in Paige’s living room is thick with a suffocating tension as she and Azzi sit on opposite ends of the couch. It reminds Paige a little bit of the before, a dreaded version of them she’d foolishly thought they grown out of, until something reminiscent of their past problems had reared its ugly head, and suddenly it feels a bit like she’s playing a losing game.

“Will you please stop that,” she bites out, referring to where Azzi’s foot is incessantly tapping on the wooden floors, “it’s giving me a headache.”

Azzi’s eyes narrow, flashing with irritation, “is it my tapping or the alcohol giving you a headache Paige?”

“I didn’t even drink that much,” Paige says through gritted teeth and Azzi scoffs.

It’s a lie. After both teams were done with post game pressers, she, Azzi and a couple of the other girls had ended up at a local bar as they often did when the other team didn’t have to fly out til the next day. Paige had been tense the whole evening and trying to pretend not to be, especially when Azzi could see right through her façade, had only made the whole thing worse. She wasn’t one to drink too much, always happy just being sufficiently tipsy but then she’d gotten in her head too much. And when the first shot didn’t quite hit the way she needed it to, she’d kept on going, receiving worried looks from all the girls, until Azzi had finally stepped in. The ride back from the bar had been a sobering experience, one look at Azzi’s stoic face, giving away her irritation.

“That’s why you still reek of tequila?”

“How the fuck would you know? You haven’t come near me all night.”

“Don’t you dare try and turn this on me Paige. I tried to talk to you all night til you decided you wanted to act like freshman frat boy,” Azzi spits out, hurt and anger colliding in her voice, “we barely get to spend time together during the season and the one night in forever that we do, you pull this shit?”

They haven’t had an argument like this since they’ve been officially together, the kind of argument that has them balancing on a delicate tight rope, too afraid to take a step backwards in their relationship, and too prideful to take a step forward towards each other.

“I didn’t think you cared about spending time together during the season,” Paige accuses and there’s a sensible part of her, one that’s currently being held captive by the dangers of liquor, that knows it’s a ridiculous allegation.

Azzi stares at her, lips opening and closing in disbelief, “excuse me?”

“It’s pretty simple really Azzi. If you wanna spend the whole season together, the option is right fucking there, but I- I can’t even tell if you’re interested in taking it,” Paige is pacing now, teeth gnawing at her lips like they always do when she’s nervous.

“What- what are you even talking about?” Azzi asks, clearly confused.

“Free fucking agency. They asked you about it and you said you hadn’t thought about it at all. That’s really great to hear Az, really great to know you haven’t thought about how that could literally change our whole fucking life,” and even as the words waterfall out of her mouth, Paige knows she’s being unreasonable, but the mix of stress and alcohol churning in her stomach is just enough to keep her from taking the words back.

“I didn’t- that’s not even what I said. Jesus fucking christ Paige,” Azzi rubs her face, looking defeated.

“So you have thought about it then?”

“Of course I’ve thought about it, “ Azzi throws her hands up, “but I wasn’t gonna tell the media about all of that. But you- you seriously think I haven’t thought about what this means for us? You don’t- do you really think I’m not thinking about you- about us- while trying to make this decision?”

“Well you definitely didn’t think of me- of us- when you chose UCLA,” Paige’s eyes widen at her own words, knowing immediately that of all things she could have said, those were the worst ones, “I- I didn’t mean it like that.”

In front of her, Azzi has gone deathly still, face completely devoid of emotion, until the first tear drops and all of Paige’s anger dissipates, the guilt clawing back with full force.

“I thought we were over that,” Azzi whispers, voice trembling, as she looks down at her hands, “but maybe we’ll never be over that.”

“We are,” Paige sinks to her knees in front of the younger girl, tugging Azzi’s hands into her own, “we are over it. I just- it just slipped out.”

Azzi’s quiet for a moment before she pulls her hands out of the blonde’s grip, sidestepping her as she stands up and Paige feels empty and cold and just a little bit broken.

“Are you leaving?” she whispers, peering up at Azzi through tear soaked eyelashes.

“I think I should, before anything else just slips out,” Paige flinches and Azzi’s expression softens, “I know- I know you didn’t mean it like that but I just- I need some space.”

Panic filters into Paige’s lungs, wrapping its dirty hands and squeezing so tight that she can barely breathe. She’s not sure when she’ll see Azzi again, now that there’s no more Lynx-Mystics games left in the regular season and it’s unlikely with their expected seedings that they’d meet at some point in the playoffs. It’s not like distance is new to them, but in the last two years, they’ve only ever said goodbye with an i love you attached to the end.

“Are you-,” Paige gasps for air, “are you leaving me?”

And it must be written all over Paige's face, just how petrified she is of this moment, because that's all it takes for Azzi to rush back into Paige’s space, hands cupping her cheeks, “oh baby of course not. I just- you’re still drunk and I’m upset and I don’t want us to say anything we don’t mean. And I- need time to think about free agency and I think you- you need time to think about why that slipped out.”

Paige sighs, melting into Azzi’s touch as the knots in her stomach begin to untangle themselves, “you’re so logical.”

“Someone has to be,” a half-smile flitters across the younger girl’s face as she wipes at Paige’s tears, “we’ll figure this out okay? Just- just give me a little bit of time.”

Give me time. It’s a familiar line, so similar to what Azzi had asked for when she was making a decision about college and Paige would be lying if she said there isn’t a part of her that’s terrified fate is going to make them repeat the same mistakes. But part of growing up, Paige surmises, is letting time test you with the same trials and tribulations, and the next time, coming out of the other end on the right side.

And so she squeezes Azzi’s hand, matching the younger girl's half smile, with a soothing one of her own, “okay.”

***

November 2027

Paige doesn't know when she ended up in a love triangle with Azzi and the state of California but she wishes she was competing against an actual person. At least then she could throw a punch at the other guy. The W season is barely over and it seems like every front office has thrown themselves headfirst into convincing free agents to join their team. There’s a couple of teams interested in Azzi, but no one seems to be trying harder than the Los Angeles Sparks. Paige thinks whoever gave that city a name meaning “the angels” could not have been more wrong because really it’s a city full of devils constantly trying to steal her girl and no she’s not being dramatic.

They’re supposed to be leaving for thanksgiving dinner when Azzi’s phone rings and Paige can’t help but roll her eyes when Cameron Brink’s name flashes on the CallerID. The Sparks seemed to have put her as head of their recruiting Azzi campaign and Cam had been diligently doing her part.

“Azzi, Cam’s calling again,” Paige yells out to her girlfriend who’s still not quite finished getting ready.

“Can you pick it up?”

“Do I have to?”

“Paige,” Azzi whines and Paige sighs, hitting the green answering button.

“The amount of times you’ve called my girlfriend this week, Brink, should I be concerned?”

“Jealous I’m replacing you as her favourite blonde?” Cam’s voice always sounds like she’s smiling and Paige can’t help her own smile. Goddamn Cameron Brink for always being the sweetest soul on this planet.

“As if,” Paige scoffs, “it’s a holiday Cam, give the recruiting a rest.”

“Hey, I’m just calling to wish her a happy thanksgiving,” Cam defends.

“Mmmhmm where’s my thanksgiving wish?”

“Oh please, the two of you are basically a unit. Wishing her is wishing you,” Cam is quiet for a second before speaking again, “the Sparks would be a good fit for her Paige.”

Paige sucks in a sharp breath, “I’m not the one you’re gonna have to convince.”

“I know but you know your opinion means a lot to her. I know you want her in Minnesota and she'd be good there too and I- I know it isn’t my place to say any of this but just- just don’t discourage her from doing what’s best for her,” there’s not a hint of malice in Cam’s words, there never is, but they pierce at Paige’s skin anyways.

“Okay I’m ready, hand me the phone,” she’s saved from having to answer by Azzi waltzing into the living room and prying the phone from her hands.

Paige watches silently as Azzi talks animatedly with Cam, noticing the way her girlfriend’s smile widens while talking about certain spots in L.A. They’d subconsciously decided not to breach the subject of free agency after that night. Paige hadn’t interfered in any of the Lynx’s conversations with Azzi, deciding that this time, she’d stay out of it. It hadn’t been easy, every little bit of her itching to pitch why the Lynx were the perfect fit, why Paige was the perfect fit, but she was determined to give Azzi the space -the time- she’d wanted. This time she’d leave the choice solely up to Azzi and whatever she decided, Paige would find her happiness in that.

“Paige you ready to go,” Azzi waves a hand in front of Paige’s face, eyebrows raised in question when the older girl doesn’t make a move to get off the sofa, “hey, you good?”

“Cam says the Sparks would be a good fit,” Azzi stiffens at Paige’s words.

“Paige-”

“She’s right,” Paige concedes, fingers fidgeting as she averts Azzi’s gaze.

The younger girl blinks at her, clearly not having expected that, “she is?”

“Yeah. They need a shooting guard and you,” Paige smiles, reaching out to pull Azzi onto the couch with her, “you’re the best there is.”

“I wouldn’t go that far-”

“You are to me and it’s why I want you on the Lynx,” they both let out a breath with that. It’s not a secret of course but Paige hasn’t said it out loud before.

“Paige-”

“But it’s okay if you don't wanna be on the Lynx, if you wanna be on the Sparks or stay here with the Mystics or on any other team, if you think it’s the right move for you and for your career then that’s fine. It’s okay and you don’t- you don’t need my permission or anything of course but I just- whatever you decide, I’ll support it okay? What I said that night about UCLA- it wasn't- it wasn’t about you. I thought about it like you asked me to and it’s me. I was scared that I would fuck it up again and I’d lose you again-”

“You won’t,” Azzi grabs Paige’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, “I won’t let you.”

“I know. I know now that whatever happens, we’ll be okay. And so you can choose whatever team you want and it won’t- it won’t affect us, I promise. It won’t be like last time I swear. When you make your decision- I just- I don’t want you to make it for me or for us, cause you and me? Baby we’ll be just fine no matter what. Wherever you go and wherever I am, we’ll make it work, just as we have for the last two years,” Paige smirks, “besides I kinda enjoy kicking your ass.”

Azzi lets out a snort as she climbs onto Paige’s lap, thighs straddling her hips, “you really had to ruin it with that last part huh?”

“Was getting a little too sappy for me,” Paige mumbles and when she looks up, the emotions floating in Azzi’s eyes make Paige’s heart stutter. Because no one else gets this Azzi. This Azzi, who wears her heart on her sleeve, who lets her walls down, only for Paige’s eyes to see, only for Paige’s mind to memorise, only for Paige’s heart to keep.

“You mean it?” Azzi whispers, brushing a strand of hair out of Paige’s face, touching lingering, “you’d be okay with anything?”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Paige cups Azzi’s cheeks, brushing her lips against the younger girl’s, “whatever you choose, we’ll be fine. No matter what, I believe in us.”

***

January 2028

Paige groans when her phone rings at 2 a.m., fumbling around in the dark trying to answer it.

“I swear you better be dying if you’re calling me this late,” she grumbles into the phone, voice scratchy with sleep.

“Not quite,” Azzi says, and Paige’s eyebrows furrow at the amount of background noise she can hear behind her girlfriend.

“Dude where the hell are you at 3 in the morning?” she asks, now a little more awake as she sits up.

“I uh- I had a bit of a revelation,” and Paige can practically picture Azzi, wherever she might be, fidgeting with her fingers and biting her lips.

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

“I know. I know. Shit, I was supposed to do this in person. I had a whole plan but apparently being with you has made me impatient,” Azzi rambles.

“You’re still not making any sense,” but Paige’s heart is starting to beat erratically fast in anticipation.

“I had this realisation while I was in the gym today, it was really quiet and peaceful and I was fine you know- all day I was fine- just doing daily routines and then I just- I missed you. I miss you all the time do you know that?”

Paige does know, knows it far too well. Sometimes she thinks missing Azzi comes as naturally as breathing, an innate part of her day to day, a constant ache that she’s felt since she was 15.

“I miss you too,” she whispers.

“And I’ve learned to survive with that feeling, with missing you constantly. I mean it’s been more than 10 years at this point, how could I not? But what I realised today is that just because I can- just because I can live missing you- doesn’t mean I want to.”

“What are you saying Azzi?”

“DC is my childhood. My family is close to there, it’s part of where I grew up. It’ll always be my first home. And LA is where I found myself, my identity, and for a while it felt like home too.”

“Azzi,” Paige breathes out, hands gripping the phone as tight as possible, wrapping that one syllable in emblems of give me forever.

“But my forever home isn’t in DC or LA and it’s not really in any other place either because- Jesus this might be the clichést thing I’ve ever said but-,” Azzi lets out a chuckle, “my home is wherever you are Paige. Wherever we’re together, that’s home.”

It feels a little bit like the end of a drought, the wetness on Paige’s cheeks like the rain that comes after. In the pitch black of her room, phone clutched closely to her ear with Azzi’s words floating through it like a swan song, Paige swears she’s never felt the world glow quite like this before.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Beating your ass has been fun as hell but I think we’d make a pretty good team Bueckers.”

And it’s a good thing Paige’s walls are soundproof because the delighted whoop she lets out practically vibrates around the room, all previous wisps of tiredness completely gone from her body. Azzi lets out a tearful laugh and Paige wishes they were together right now so she could tattoo this happiness onto both of their skins.

“The greatest team ever,” Paige affirms, “When are you com-”

“Attention passengers Delta Airlines Flight 1248 to Minneapolis will be boarding soon, please have your passport and ticket ready to check at the gate.”

“About that,” Azzi says shyly as Paige’s mouth drops open at the announcement, “I uh- I had a moment of spontaneity.”

“Who the hell are you and what have you done with my overthinking girlfriend?” Paige demands and Azzi giggles on the other end of line.

“I know it’s last minute, like really last minute and it was meant to be a surprise actually but I just- I really wanna see you. Is that okay?”

“Is that okay? Fuck Azzi, it’s all I want. Baby,” Paige breathes out softly, “come home.”

***

Time isn’t going nearly fast enough Paige thinks as she checks the arrivals board for the nth time. She’d tried for about four seconds to fall back asleep after hanging up the phone but her entire body had been buzzing with excitement. And so she’d gotten to the airport far earlier than necessary, and had maybe one too many cups of coffee if the jittery shake in her left hand is anything to go by.

She swears she feels her before she sees her. The air is electric as if the whole city, the whole state is waiting for Azzi too, for them to get their elusive forever. This moment feels like years in the making, and Paige is ready, ready to grasp it and make it hers. And then there’s Azzi, a clearly chosen-at-last minute wrinkled t-shirt, eyes drooping from the tiredness from not having slept all night, baby hairs in a frenzy across her forehead. To Paige, she’s still the prettiest girl in the entire universe.

Azzi’s eyes scan through the airport until they land on Paige, a dazzling smile illuminating her exhausted features. It’s the exact same smile that Paige had first elicited from her on the flight back from Argentina when she’d told Azzi she had a feeling they'd make great friends. It’s her Paige smile. The world is still for a second, everything melting away except them and the whispers of the journey it had taken them to get to this point. Every delicately placed step towards each other feels like an ode to every year they’d spent apart. And then Paige is running, not caring about everyone else around her. She jumps into Azzi’s arm, all 6 feet of her, tangling her legs around the younger girl's waist while her arms fasten around the neck. It forces Azzi to let go of her small carry-on, not caring that it falls to the floor with a thud, as her hands wrap around Paige’s back, steadying her girlfriend’s weight on top of her.

“You’re here,” Paige whispers, still a little in disbelief, “you’re really here.”

“I’ve been in Minny plenty of times before,” Azzi quips, adjusting her balance to properly hold the girl clinging to her like a koala.

“Shut up you know what I mean. You’re here forever this time.”

“Well I don’t know about forever- OW,” Azzi shrieks, as Paige pinches her arm, “do you want me to drop you woman?”

“You’re never allowed to leave.”

“That sounds vaguely threatening.”

“Good because it definitely is a threat,” Paige says before pulling Azzi into a searing kiss, “welcome home baby.”

***

October 2028

There are moments in life you remember forever. Sometimes you know they’re going to happen, sometimes they take you off guard and sometimes, it’s a combination of both. The Minnesota Lynx’s journey to the WNBA finals this season had always felt inevitable but the journey there, for a team that had unexpectedly fallen to the 4-seed despite pre-season clamour of them being number one, had been filled with bitter losses and moments of pure uncertainty. In a way, it perfectly mirrors Paige and Azzi’s relationship.

There’s 11 seconds separating the Lynx from their 5th championship trophy as they lead the Sky by two points. The crowd is up on their feet, ready for their cheering to turn into roars the minute the final buzzer rings. Paige has the ball in her hands on the inbound, Coach Reeves yelling at her from the bench what to do, as she makes eye contact with Azzi. There are no words, not even a gesture that the other team might be able to interpret, but they know exactly what play they’re about to run.

Truth be told it hadn’t been the seamless transition the two of them had expected when Azzi joined the Lynx. They’d been naive to think years of not playing together wouldn’t have affected the backcourt chemistry they’d had almost instantly once upon a time. The first few games, there had been an embarrassing disconnect between the two of them that had resulted in a nasty berating from Coach Reeves and a subsequent argument between the two of them that had lasted into the next morning. It had taken several more practices, and a couple more games of flailing around, for them to finally become the duo Paige had always known they would.

The game buzzer beeps and Paige throws the ball to Azzi who immediately returns it back to her, and then she’s running off screen after screen to get herself open on the wing, her sweet spot. Paige dribble penetrates into the paint, dragging an extra defender with her as they try to prevent her from getting a layup, the other defender blocks her from stepping back into a pull-up. Azzi’s defender has a momentary lapse in judgement, falling for the age-old trick of thinking she should help on defence, and that’s all it takes. A second for Paige to see Azzi open on the corner and pass it to her. A second for Azzi to shoot it.

The three-pointer falls through the next with a perfect swish. Dagger shot.

A small smile flits across Azzi’s face, the only emotion she’s shown all game and Paige can’t help the much larger grin that starts to flash on her own face. She can almost taste victory on the tip of her tongue, the two seconds left in the game are the only thing separating her from finally getting her version of the things we live for. Behind her she can hear Coach Reeves yelling at them to not foul, the 5-point lead enough of a cushion for them to withstand a last minute shot. But the Sky barely make it over midcourt and when Marina Mabrey heaves up a last second prayer, Paige doesn’t bother to see if it goes in as the buzzer sounds throughout Target Arena. The Minnesota crowd explodes in noise and colour as confetti falls from the sky.

Despite the chaos of everything, Paige has never seen Azzi clearer than in this moment. Since she’d met the girl, in all of Paige’s prayers about winning a championship, one thing had always been constant, that when they’d come true, they’d come true with Azzi by her side. And she had been. The high school state champion, the college national championship, Azzi had been there for both but on the bleachers, as a spectator and as Paige’s biggest fan. But this, winning a championship with Azzi as her teammate, as her ally, as her partner, means something more. This win is theirs.

“Do you remember when we saw that shooting star?” Azzi says softly, as they find their way into each other’s arms, not caring that there’s a thousand cameras capturing their every move. Paige pulls Azzi closer to her, every inch of her body pressing into the other girls until she’s not sure where she begins and where Azzi ends.

“That was years ago,” Paige remarks but she can see it clearly, two young girls underneath the stars, unaware of what their future would be but sure that the other would be in it. Those girls would probably laugh at how long it had taken Paige and Azzi to figure out what had seemed so simple back then.

“Yeah, yeah it was. Do you remember what you wished for?” Azzi asks, smiling when Paige nods, “do you wanna know what I wished for?”

“What did you wish for Az?”

“Before we saw the star you- you said it’d be nice to win a championship together someday. And so I-,” Azzi looks down shyly, “so I wished for someday. I wished for today.”

Paige stares at Azzi, drinking in the sincerity on the shooting guard’s face, silently letting herself absorb the meaning of Azzi’s words. And then she lets out a laugh because of course of course.

“I didn’t realise I’d said anything funny for you to be laughing at me,” Azzi scrunches her nose, looking slightly offended.

“God baby no,” Paige cups Azzi’s face, and she thinks this smile on her face will last forever as long as this is her reality, “I’m not laughing at you. I just- do you know what I wished for?”

Azzi shakes her head.

“This. The same exact thing you did. For someday.”

It’s not quite the shade of blue Paige had imagined them in, the Lynx blue its own shade, something inbetween UConn’s navy one and UCLA’s sky one. But it’s perfect nonetheless. And when Azzi crashes her lips against Paige’s, someday feels a lot like forever and always.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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wearebarca · 4 months

Text

3. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character pt. 3

Part 1 part 2 part 3

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed too long at the same place. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

word count: 4,3K

18 + (eventually)

A/N: Hello, notify me if you'd like a little album of the pictures Rosalie takes. Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Enjoy.

The question took the brunette by surprise. She could see that the footballer was getting more comfortable around her but she did not think that the woman would ask such a personal question. The subject had always been quite sensitive for the Canadian but, for unknown reasons she felt that, here, in this empty facility, with the catalonian trusting her with this whole process, she felt like she could share this bit of her story.

“ My uncle was a wedding photographer. When I was younger, he used to bring me with him to some weddings and have me play his little assistant. He would give me one of those single use cameras and tell me to capture what I found beautiful.” The memory put a nostalgic smile to the woman’s face. To this day, she still incredibly misses her uncle and wishes that he could see her today.

“My parents were busy people, so my uncle took me under his wing. He taught me everything he knew and encouraged me to pursue this passion and helped me make a career out of it.” She raised her camera and snapped a shot of the blond who was listening with a small smile on her face. “ Can you angle yourself towards the left please?”

The blond moved to the side and for the first time tonight, really took the time to look at the brunette. Her hair was in a messy bun with a few strands escaping and framing her face. Her high waisted jean shorts showed off her long legs. She had on an oversized gray grandad cardigan on top of her black t–shirt. The sleeves of her sweater were slightly too long and went over her hands. The brunette looked comfortable and at ease, she was relaxed and completely in her element. She looked nothing like the photographer’s Alexia had worked with in the past. She was used to flamboyant people who yelled orders at their models or were constantly harassing her with their camera, not this slightly awkward, caring, beautiful woman who was willingly sharing her story with the footballer.

“ He must be an incredible photographer.”

“ He was yes,” The brunette’s expression dimed at that, Alexia suddenly felt bad for bringing the subject but the smaller woman motionned to her that everything was ok and continued. “ Eleven years ago he was diagnosed with bone cancer. He died a year later, not long after my eighteenth birthday.”

“ I am sorry,”

“ Don’t be, I’m happy to talk about him,” She said smiling, “ What about you? Why football?”

“ My dad, he loved football. He was always very supportive and proud. He got sick.” The blond said, looking down, not wanting the photographer to see her be vulnerable. Rosalie felt the shift in the atmosphere and put down her camera. “ He said that he would not die before seeing his daughter play for Barcelona’s first team, but he went two months before I reached our goal.”

The brunette wanted to hug the girl standing in front of her but could not decide if she would be comfortable enough to do so. “ I am sure he is extremely proud of what you have accomplished, La reina”, the name earned the smaller woman an eye roll from the footballer who shifted in a different position for the photographer.

“ Ok, let’s get this shoot over with, I think we both deserve to go home and finally relax.” They finished up quickly and Rosalie was quite happy with the pictures that came out. While she uploaded the pictures to her computer, the blond helped picking up the equipment. Grateful for her help, the brunette promised the captain that she would bring her coffee next week as a thank you.

They walked out of the empty training center as the sun was starting to set. When the brunette reached her small car, she turned around to see the taller woman standing awkwardly behind her.

“ I just wanted to thank you for making this shooting so casual and easy.”

“ Of course, anything to make you comfortable, Alexia.” She grabbed the blond’s hand and gave it a light squeeze. “ Have a good weekend Capitana,”

“Thank you,” The blond started to walk towards her own car but turned back around after a few steps.

“ Bonne nuit Rosalià.”

The morning air was crisp against her sweat coated skin and the breeze coming from the sea kept the brunette cool even after running for an hour. It was still incredibly early in the morning and the only sounds that could be heard were the odd car passing and the sound of her feet hitting the pavement. Early morning was her favorite time to go run. It allowed her to be completely submerce by the calmness of the still sleeping city. Rosalie didn’t often run with music, preferring to listen to the sounds of her own steps, which acted as some sort of metronome for the torrent of thoughts running in her head lately.

It had been four days since her shooting with the captain and still, the whole ordeal seemed to be the subject her brain would drift back to whenever the French-Canadian would let her mind run free. The fact that the blond seemed to make tremendous effort to stay as far as she could from the photographer had not helped the questions that were quickly multiplying in her head.

Rosalie somehow thought that after that night, Alexia would be more approachable and less standoffish. But clearly the woman was not as comfortable as she thought with how vulnerable they had gotten and now she was probably regretting telling the brunette so much. Or maybe she thought that Rosalie went too far by sharing her story with the footballer. Whatever the reason was, the results were still the same.

Later today, the team will be taking off towards Sevilla for a two day trip. They would all meet at the training center and take the team bus towards the airport. Flying had always been a tricky thing for Rosalie. When she was a teenager she had been on a plane with extremely violent turbulence that had scared the girl and ever since, flying had been one of the woman’s biggest fears. Her friends had always found the thing ironic, since the brunette's job required Rosalie to fly frequently and said that she should’ve gotten used to it by now. But nonetheless, every time the photographer simply thought about flying, she would get restless and anxiety would start creating a pit in her stomach.

This was the reason why she was currently out at such an ungodly hour, trying to literally run away from her anxious thoughts. Around her she could see that the small coffee shops that were lined on the streets were starting to set up their front patios in order to open and the smell of freshly baked pastries was floating in the morning air. A quick look at her watch told her that she still had a good three hours before Lucy and Keira would arrive at her apartment to pick her up, meaning that she still had time to hit the half marathon mark before heading back.

She wasn’t used to running this long on morning runs, but she had gone over her training program with Sara, one of the coaches and switched up her training to make it more challenging. So far her breathing was good and she could feel the slight burn of her legs but overall, her pace was good and she was more than satisfied with her time.

Sara had been a true angel this past week. She had helped the runner organize a new training plan that was focused more on endurance rather than speed. Rosalis had always struggled with long distances which was why marathons were her least favourite type of races. She was extremely hard headed though so she was still focused on mastering this type of event.

She even went as far as going running with the Canadian during the weekend. She was quite impressed by the level of fitness the brunette was displaying and found that she very much appreciated the company of the French-Canadian. After their run they had stopped at a local café and had agreed to room together during the upcoming trip.

When Rosalie arrived at her apartment complex, she noticed the couple’s car parked by the door. She checked her watch to see that she technically still had at least an hour and a half before they were supposed to be here. She opened her door to come face to face with a sleeping form on her couch and Lucy running around in her kitchen.the smell of crêpe was wafting in the space.

“ Took you long enough,” The older woman whispered, handing Rosalie a fresh cup of coffee.

“How did you even get in here?”

“ You’re the one who left her door unlocked Rosie, which is not very safe darling you should be more careful.”

The blob of blankets on the couch stirred enough to reveal disheveled blond reddish hair. “ Lucy, please shut your mouth. I'm trying to sleep here.”

Rosalie made her way to the living room and jumped on the woman who screamed at the Canadian to get off.

“ Frenchy you smell like ass go shower, Mama Bronze isn’t done with food anyway.”

After her shower the brunette put on some comfortable clothes consisting of the staff’s tracksuit pants, a white t-shirt with the Barcelona logo and the Nike club vest that had quickly become one of her favorite articles of clothing. When she came back in the kitchen, everything had been picked up and the kitchen island was dressed up with the food. Lucy and keira were already sitting down and shoveling down food.

“ Mais quel bande d’animal, sincèrement? Vous ne pouviez pas attendre que j’aille fini?”

“ Tais toi femme et viens manger.” Lucy replied with her mouth full.

“ I regret teaching you French, I hope you know that.” She sat down and sipped on her coffee. She wasn’t hungry due to the knot that kept her stomach in check. Knowing that the younger woman would most likely not be able to eat due to her nervousness, Lucy got up and pulled out from the fridge a protein smoothie she had made at home before coming over.

“Here, at least drink this, you just came back from what I assume was a big run. You gotta put something in you.”

Once breakfast was over, Rosalie finished packing up her camera bag while the girls were loading her bags in the car. The drive to the training center was quiet. Keira was still half asleep and Rosalie was simply too stressed to engage in conversation. Lucy didn’t mind the silence, she was relaxing and enjoying the time spent with two of the most important people in her life.

The bus ride with the team was more or less the same, with everyone in pretty much the same state as Keira. As they got closer to the airport, Rosalie’s nerves became worse. Her knee was bouncing up and down and the woman kept zoning out, unable to keep listening to Martina who was going on about a rumor about some people working in management. Thanks to Marcello’s participation in the conversation, Rosalie’s state remained relatively unknown. Or so she thought.

A few seats behind her, Ingrid, Alexia, Mapi, Keira and Lucy were all sitting together. Knowing that the younger girl was quite fragile at the moment, Lucy had kept a close eye on her.

“ Hermana, you keep watching Rosie, is everything good?” Mapi wondered, stretching her neck to catch a glimpse of the photographer.

“She hates flying, it affects her a lot. I just don’t want her to get too bad, you know » Alexia had also noticed the change in the brunette. The normally bubbly woman looked pale and uncharacteristically quiet.

« Can we do something to help? » Ingrid asked.

« Not really, nothing really distracts her in this situation. We just have to let her process this and stay close, just in case. » Keira replied. They were used to flying with the brunette and had tried everything to help her calm down but nothing really did the trick. She usually would put her headphones in and grip the seat as hard as she could until they would land.

Lucy got up and excused herself. Alexia watched her make her way to the front of the bus where the coaches, therapist and the rest of the staff were. “What is she doing?”

“ I think she’s trying to figure out who’s sitting with Frenchy on the plane.” Keira answered, turning towards her girlfriend.

“ They are close, Si?” Alexia’s curiosity had gotten the best of her. She wasn’t jealous, she could see that Lucy and Keira cared a lot about the green-eyed woman and she did not understand why, but she wanted to know as much as she could about her.

“ Yeah, Like sisters they are. Lucy’s very protective of her, she does have much family. We’re hers now, you know.” Keira smiled as she watched Lucy walk back to her seat, but not without stopping to drop a granola bar on The Canadian’s lap and threatening her to eat it before they boarded.

“ So who’s with her?”

“ Apparently she’s the only staff member who didn’t get a ticket in the same area, probably because they booked it after everyone else. She’s gonna sit with the team, but we don’t know our seats yet so..” She said as she sat back down.

“ It’s ok, I can ask whoever is with her to swap with me, I’ll sit with her.” Ingrid said smiling.

“ Thank you Ingrid,” Lucy said, visibly more relaxed knowing that the brunette would be with someone she seemed to trust.

At the airport, security went smoothly and the team collected their boarding passes only to be called moments later to the gate. The speed at which everything was going was a godsend for Rosalie who was too focused on making sure she had all her documents all the while taking pictures of the team, to have time to think about the moment the wheel of the plane would leave the ground.

As she walked in the tunnel leading to the aircraft, Rosalie could feel her heart hammering in her chest and her palms getting increasingly sweaty. Lucy’s grounding presence helped the brunette a little but her fear was fighting hard to gain control. The photographer checked her boarding pass for the first time since receiving it to check what seat she had been assigned.

“ where are you sitting?” The question came from Ingrid who was walking in front of them.

“ I have B47,” her answer came put a lot more calm than the woman felt as she scanned the seats to find her own.

“ That's good, Mapi and I are right in front of you,” As she was answering, the Norwegian stopped and picked up her bag to place it in the overhead bin, which told Rosalie that they had reached their seats. She walked the few steps that separated her from her seat, only to come face to face with the woman that had been occupying her mind for the last few days.

Suddenly, Rosalie’s anxiety found a new target to spiral about. A hand on her shoulder pulled the photographer out of her thoughts.

“Are you ok? We can sit together if you want? I have a few movies downloaded on my tablet. Mapi can sit with Alexia.” Ingrid asked, smiling softly at the brunette. Rosalie appreciated the dark haired girl but there's one thing that woman hated more than flying, and it was pity. She knew that they only wanted to help her but she couldn’t help but feel like they were pitying her and she didn't want to appear weak in front of her new team, which is why she politely declined, thanking the couple and placing her belongings in the bin on top of her seat.

The comotion caught the attention of the blond captain who had not seen who was prepared to sit next to her. She was more than surprised to see the photographer standing in the alley with a nervous small playing on her lips.

“ Hey,”

“Hola,” Alexia said smiling, picking up her bag from the seat next to her. She sat down next to the blond and closed her eyes to try to calm herself before take off.

Looking at the brunette, Alexia felt a strange sense of protectiveness wash over her. She wanted to make the brunette feel better, make that smile that takes her breath away appear on the photographer’s soft features. A few seats away, she could see Lucy watch them with a worried expression which Alexia answered with a reassuring smile. She would not let the brunette spiral.

Surprisingly, Alexia was not the first one to speak. “ I am sorry if I overstepped during the shooting. I didn’t want to male you feel uncomfortable.” She said, eyes still closed and head thrown back. If she was to sit with the blond for this trip, might as well try to make it a little less awkward.

“ What do you mean?”

“ I don’t know, I just don’t want you to think that I’m probing your personal life.”

“ No, no I did not think that, do not worry,” the footballer took a second to think about what she was going to say next. She was aware of her own behaviour towards the photographer. The woman made her nervous and she felt like with the brunette, she did not need to put on a controlled facade like with the rest of the media team, and that scared the Ballon d’Or winner. Alexia hated feeling like she wasn’t in complete control of herself, so the easiest solution in her mind was simply to keep her distances. But staying away from the brunette did not appease her curiosity. “ I am very sorry if I made you feel this way. I appreciate your presence Rosalia.”

The blond’s small confession made Rosalie slightly relax, enough for a small smile to escape her lips. She turned her head towards Alexia, who felt a warm feeling take place at the sight. “ I appreciate your presence as well.”

The plane jolted, signaling the brunette, who had momentarily forgotten where she was, that they would be taking off very soon. She quickly grabbed the arm rest and panic flooded brain. Alexia, who had seen the brunette deteriorate, did the first thing that came to her mind. She grabbed the hand that was gripping the arm rest and held it with her own. She reached with her other hand and gently turned the photographer’s face towards her. Green met Hazel and the brunette was instantly captured by the depth of the footballer’s gaze.

“You’re ok, hey look at me, breathe with me ok?” The blond took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her lips. The brunette followed the footballer’s lead, her eyes never straying from Alexia’s. “ bien, lo estás haciendo muy bien”

Alexia’s words ignited a small flame at the pit of the photographer’s stomach which successfully calmed some of the anxiety, but replaced it with an odd feeling that the French-Canadian was simply not ready to face yet.

“ Here take this, it'll help with the pressure,” the captain pulled out a pack of gum and popped two pieces in Rosalie’s hand. The first bite surprised the photographer who made a face that pulled a chuckle from the footballer.

“ What kind of psycho chews cinnamon gum?”

“Hey it’s good don’t be mean,” the woman answered with a hurt expression. She could see that Rosalie had calmed down quite a bit, but the deadly grip she still had on the blond’s hand showed her just how sacred the photographer was. Suddenly, they could feel the plane gain some speed and the wheel lifting off the ground. The brunette’s gaze shifted quickly towards the small window as panic clouded her eyes.

“ no, no sigue mirándome” With her hand still on Rosalie’s face, she drew the brunette closer still. Only a few inches separating the two. Rosalie could smell Alexia’s perfume, something sweet, like strawberries. She smelled like summer, it was intoxicating. She didn’t understand what the blond had said but it did not matter, since as soon as her gaze met hers, the blond smiled sweetly and Rosalie forgot once again where she was.

“ Tell me one of your happiest memories,” The French-Canadian was surprised by the blond’s question. She had gone from ignoring the photographer to taking care of her during takeoff. She knew that Alexia was simply trying to distract her, but the curiosity she could see shining through her eyes made the brunette realize that maybe, the football player didn’t hate her after all.

“ My first triathlon, it would have to be one of the most meaningful things in my life.” She answered.

“ Tell me about it, si?”

“ It was a few years ago, my uncle loved triathlons. He used to do one every summer. He also volunteered as a photographer for the races. When I got older I would volunteer with him and he used to say that I would be a great triathlete if I wanted.” She said, smiling at the memory.

“ He knew that my football days were over since I had gotten injured and needed surgery on my ankle. He said that once I’d be on my feet again I should give it a try. But I used to think that I would hate running, it was the part I hated the most during training.” Rosalie’s expression darkened.

“When he died, I thought that it would be a good way to honour him in a way, the training was so hard. I had never swum before and my cardio wasn’t great coming back from injury.” She took a deep breath and her gaze left Alexia’s to shift to their intertwined fingers.

“ But the rush of crossing the finish line was electric. It felt like I made him proud.” She looked back up only to see the captain's face lighting up along with hers.

A few seats in front of the two, Lucy was witnessing the whole thing along with Keira. They couldn’t believe what they were seeing. In the time they had known her they had never seen her be so relaxed on a plane, nor being so physically close with someone she had just met. She had always been a bit weird about physical touch, it had taken a while before she started to relax whenever the English women hugged her. But at this moment, hand in hand and only a few inches separating their faces, the photographer looked comfortable, happy almost.

The sound indicating that you could take the seat belts off pulled the two women out of their little bubble. Realizing that she was still gripping the footballer’s hand, Rosalie slowly untangled her fingers from Alexia’s and slightly pulled away from her.

“Thank you for distracting me,”

“My pleasure, I am always happy to know more about you Rosalia” The footballer turned around and pulled out her headphones from her case. Rosalie, still surprised by the blond’s statement, put one headphone back in her ear, letting the other one dangle in on her chest and closed her eyes, listening to the calming sound of her music, all the while keeping an ear out in case anything happened.

A few minutes passed, not much could be heard around. Everyone was either on their phones or had put a movie on their screen. Rosalie could see from the space between seats that Mapi and Ingrid were snuggled up and watching The Lion King on their tablet. An intense shuffling sound pulled her attention away from their screen to see Alexia intensely searching for something in her bag.

“ Ah mierda , where are they?” She sounded frustrated enough for the brunette to lean in to see.

“ Are you ok?”

“ Si, I think I did not bring my headphone charger and they just died,” The blond said frustrated.

“ Here,” The brunette took her headphone that was resting on her chest and offered it to the footballer. “ we can share if you’d like, I’m not using them both.” She said smiling.

“ You don’t mind?”

“Of course not, it’s the least I can do after you helped me like that.” She said, getting closer so the wire wouldn’t pull her other headphone out. “ What do you usually listen to?”

“ You can leave on what you were listening to, I just don’t like working without music.” The blond said, pulling out her laptop. Rosalie pressed play again and the soft piano song started again in her ear. After a moment, the blond stopped typing and spoke again.

“ This is nice, very calm, what is it called?”

“ This is Interlude by this group called London Grammar. The singer’s voice is so powerful, it’s one of my favourite groups.” she said, happy to share her music with the blond.

“ Good, I will look them up then.” The blond went back to her work, softly humming to the music in her ear. Meanwhile, Rosalie was starting to feel like her lack of sleep and intense morning run were slowly taking a toll on her body. Alexia’s calm and grounding presence, along with her perfume that flooded her senses every time she took a breath allowed the photographer to relax enough for her eyelids to become heavy. Slowly her whole body became heavy and her head lolled to the side, resting gently on Alexia’s shoulder.

At the contact, the footballer went rigid, but relaxed as soon as she realized that the photographer had finally succumbed to sleep, after being on edge all morning. Knowing she could not work without disturbing the brunette, Alexia closed her laptop and relaxed in her seat, letting the soft music guide her towards sleep as well.

A/N: feedback is appreciated

#alexia putellas #barca femeni #futfem #keira walsh #lucy bronze #woso imagine #woso community #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas x y/n #ingrid engen #mapi leon #alexia x reader

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scoonsalicious · 5 months

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 21, Unacceptable - Pt. 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

Word Count: 947

Previously On...: Bucky confronted Steve when he thought you two slept together. It got... ugly.

A/N: Last part of Chapter 21! We're off to Atlantic City, baby!

I am probably going to start going back to 1/day updates tomorrow, at least until I make more progress on With Friends Like These.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

“That was pure evil,” Sam said as you both buckled your seatbelts in the convertible you’d be using for the mission. “I knew you were a genius, Baby Girl, but damn! Didn’t realize it was evil genius! Remind me never to get on your bad side!”

You smiled and shrugged, adjusting your hair in the visor mirror and putting on a pair of sunglasses. “Serves them right, acting like I’m a fucking piece of property either one of them can claim ownership of. I hope they break each other’s noses.”

Sam laughed as he pulled the car out of the Tower’s underground parking garage and onto the city street. “We got about a two and a half hour drive,” he said. “What do you feel like listening to?”

You were prevented from answering by the sound of Cherry Pie by Warrant filling the car. You both looked around for a moment before you realized it was coming from your phone. You picked it up, staring at the screen in confusion when you saw Tony’s name flash across the screen.

“You asshole, did you hack my phone?” you asked, putting him on speaker, “Because this was certainly not your ringtone.”

“Can you blame an old man for feeling nostalgic?” Tony asked, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “Did Cap give you my message?”

“Yes,” you said, eying Sam, “and Sam was very hurt when you called him ‘birdbrain.’” Sam did his best to stifle his laugh.

You could practically hear Tony roll his eyes. “Yeah, well Rogers needs to learn not to repeat everything word for word. Listen, kiddo, I meant what I said about visiting, though. You need anything, anything at all while you’re gone, you call me, okay? I can be there before you even hang up the phone.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Jesus, Tony. I’m not a child, and Sam’ll have my back. I know I’m not a mighty Avenger like the rest of you, but I’m not incompetent. I’ve been trained–”

“Whoa, whoa,” Tony interrupted you, “that’s not why I’m worried. Not at all. I know you can more than handle yourself. Hell, I’d send you on this mission solo– that’s how much faith I have in your abilities.” You smiled unexpectedly at that. “I’m concerned about how this mission’s going to affect you mentally and emotionally, given your–”

You immediately took him off speaker and held the phone to your ear as he continued “--history. We’re dealing with missing women who are likely being trafficked for sex. If that’s not gonna be a potential trigger for you, I don’t know what is.”

“I’m not fragile, Boss,” you said, your voice softer now. In all the turmoil you’d gone through since finding out about Bucky and Carthage, you honestly hadn’t given much consideration to what the mission might mean to you on a psychological level. “I never said you were, kiddo. I know you’re strong. But, this is a lot. You’ve just been dealt a major blow because of Barnes and I’m putting you back in a position that’s a lot closer to your old life than you’ve been living in a long, long time. You’ve come so far, and, well, I guess I’m concerned that I’m doing you more harm than good by sending you backwards.”

“Thanks, Tony,” you murmured, touched that he was still looking out for you, even from a distance. “That means a lot.”

“Just promise me– if it gets to be too much, if at any point you're struggling, you’ll tell me. I’ll pull you out, mission be damned.”

“But Boss,” you interjected, “these women need our help! We can’t just–”

“I know that, Pocket,” he countered, “and we will help them. But I’m not going to risk your mental wellbeing to do it. If it gets to be too much, we’ll pull you out, and we’ll find another way. Trust me.”

Your trust was running in short supply these days, but if there was one person who had never failed you, had never let you down, and was deserving of all the trust you had to offer, it was Tony Stark. “Yeah, okay,” you eventually agreed. “I promise. If it gets to be too much for me, I’ll let you know.”

“Good,” said Tony, and you knew he’d probably expected more of a fight from you, but you were too mentally exhausted to put one up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I promised Pepper I’d do a stopover in Havana on my way home from Belize and pick up this massage oil she absolutely loves. See, it warms up when you–”

“Good bye, Tony,” you laughed, ending the call before he could go into further nauseating detail. You shook your head, smiling to yourself. You noticed Sam glancing over at you. “What?” you asked him.

“Nothin’” he said, eyes back on the road. “Just think it’s sweet how much Tony cares about you, that’s all. I knew you two were close, like brother and sister, but I never saw it in action before. It’s nice.”

“Oh,” you said, surprised he hadn’t jumped to the typical conclusions people came to when they considered your relationship. “Yeah, he’s really been the best.”

“So, how did you two meet, anyway?” Sam asked as the two of you pulled onto the highway. “I know Tony said the strip club, but I figure there’s got to be more to it than that. If you don’t mind sharing, that is. I mean, we still have two hours of driving left to do.”

You chuckled. “Nah, it’s alright– I don’t mind telling you. It’s actually kind of a funny story…”

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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xcherryerim · 6 months

Text

Strange Fascination

Part One: A Mocha With A side Of Your Sight

pt.two

Stalker!Mike x gn!reader

“Every morning, in front of you at last, I stand again, as if I'm enchanted. I'm still half-awake, the haziness guiding me towards you.” — Iced Coffee by Red velvet

This story will lead to smut (not this part but the second) If you’re not up for that, do not read this!

Warning: obsession/ stalking | mentions of over-usage (with sleeping pills but yk) | Breaking in readers house

Notes: This part is meant to describe Mike’s fascination on reader and how he ends up breaking into reader’s house so, this part mainly focuses on Mike along side Abby. Part two will focus mainly on reader. (also this was revised like 3 times so, yk not that perfect)

Summary: After not seeing you at school to pick up your brother, his mind is flooded with worry. In an excuse to hangout with his sister, Mike drove near your place, observing your every move through the cafe window.

Mike tends to obsess easily. Whether it's with re-living the events of his lost brother, collecting nostalgic artifacts, or reading a stack load of psychology books. It’s an innocent hobby and it’s not harming anyone, but lately, he started to be captivated by a new subject.

Four months have passed since Abby began attending middle school, but Mike can still vividly recall the very first moment he laid eyes on you. That fateful day remains etched in his memory, as though it happened just yesterday.

Despite the mounting stress surrounding his impending court case against his Aunt, Mike attempted to maintain a composed demeanor for Abby's sake. She was embarking on a significant transition, moving from her familiar surroundings to a larger and more complex educational environment.

As he patiently awaited Abby’s emergence from the classroom, his nerves were further tested when a stranger appeared and positioned themselves near him, close enough for the musky Vanilla scent to reach his nose.

Under normal circumstances, Mike would shy away from making eye contact with strangers, unless he had a specific reason to engage with them. However, on this particular day, he found himself inexplicably drawn to look up, and there you are, standing before him. In his eyes, you appeared as a divine being, an angel who had descended from the heavens, sent to watch over him and him alone.

Your presence sent a shiver down his spine, heightening his nervous energy while simultaneously eliciting a sense of comfort and security.

Though Mike remained silent, his eyes meticulously took in every detail of your visage, committing your likeness to memory. His behavior was not intended to be unsettling; rather, it stemmed from an innate need to capture your image in his mind.

Suddenly, you broke the silence with a timid "Hi," which caught him off guard. Taken aback, Mike responded with a soft, "Hello, you."

While seeing you for mere moments each weekday may seem like a fleeting encounter, Mike's keen observation skills allowed him to make the most of these brief instances. He meticulously studied your routine, scrutinizing the subtle variations in the timing of your arrival to collect your brother.

On Mondays and Thursdays, you could be found arriving precisely at 3:20, while Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays offered slightly longer windows, ranging from 3:30 to 3:46.

Through diligent study and careful attention, Mike managed to piece together a comprehensive understanding of your schedule, ensuring that he wouldn't miss a single opportunity to catch a glimpse of you.

In addition to monitoring your schedule, Mike began to decode the nuances of your moods based on your daily attire. Although you generally stuck to the same color scheme, he discerned subtle differences that hinted at your emotional state.

For instance, a particular long-sleeve shirt signaled haste, while an oversized graphic tee indicated fatigue. Even minor alterations to your hairstyle served as clues to your mental landscape. Over time, Mike committed countless details to memory, even going so far as to surreptitiously follow your vehicle to ascertain your home address.

However, despite these extensive efforts at understanding and learning about you, the interactions remained limited to brief greetings - a tantalizing taste of connection amidst the vast sea of unspoken longing.

On this particular Wednesday, chaos reigned as students spilled from the classroom, jostling one another in their rush to leave. Amidst the pandemonium, Abby found herself standing beside Mike, sensing the turmoil in his gaze.

Intrigued, she queried, "Why are we still here?" Her question snapped him back to the present, and he stammered, struggling to formulate a coherent thought.

Remembering the purpose of their wait, he asked, "Um, Abbs, did your classmate... was it Gregory? Did he come to school today?"

Abby couldn't help but furrow her brow, wondering if Mike's preoccupation was related to you. "No," she replied briefly before leading the way, prompting him to follow reluctantly.

Attempting to shift gears, he inquired about the solar system project Mike helped her with.

"So, how did your presentation go? Did you score a hundred?"

Abby sighed, clarifying, "The science teacher never gives hundreds, but I managed to snag a ninety-seven."

“That’s still pretty good, Abbs. Don’t worry.” He smiled.

Mike struggled to suppress his desire to visit your residence, the concern for your well-being clouding his judgment. His anxiety threatened to derail his focus on the road, nearly resulting in a collision and earning him seven irate honks from fellow drivers.

Abby wondered if her mental prayers on the road helped them get home safely. She was now standing in front of the kitchen table, as his brother, still with his anxious look served her spaghetti. As she polished off her meal, she observed Mike's restless hands continuously picking at his uneaten food.

Unsure whether to approach him about his obvious distress, she hesitated, suspecting that he might dismiss her concerns. Enveloped by the deafening silence, she contemplated retreating to her room or remaining to offer support. Ultimately, it was Mike who broke the quiet standoff, tentatively proposing, "Do you want to go for a walk?"

This unexpected invitation perplexed her; sibling bonds between the two had predominantly revolved around shared chores, academic assistance from Mike, and marathon sessions of cheesy films.

However, the unfamiliarity of a walk piqued Abby’s interest. Sensing hidden intentions, she inquired, "Why?"

Mike attempted to deflect his sister's probing gaze, replying casually, "Just feel like getting some fresh air."

With that, he grabbed his keys and confidently declared, "I know a great spot."

Mike navigated his vehicle to a parking spot near the park, consciously avoiding your location to not seem suspicious. As they walked, Mike maintained a brisk pace, pushing Abby to her limits as she struggled to keep up.

After a few exhausting minutes, the excuse he needed to invite Abby to the coffee shop on your street appeared.

"Oh, you're tired?" he feigned innocence, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. "I think I recall seeing a coffee shop nearby."

Upon reaching the coffee shop, the once-unfamiliar street suddenly held an uncanny familiarity for Abby. Though she couldn't comprehend the reasoning behind this sensation, she was relieved to see a genuine grin spread across Mike's face. While appreciative of his newfound composure, the peculiar nature of his smile continued to nag at her subconscious. Little did she know, her apprehension foreshadowed the depth of his new fixation.

Mike's gaze roamed the coffee shop, absorbing the ambiance - the warm lighting, the rich scent of coffee beans, and the soothing fragrance of lavender. His imagination ran wild, conjuring visions of an intimate date with you in this very locale.

He envisioned himself sitting across from you at a cozy café. As you brought the mug to your lips, he reached out gently, wiping away a stray dollop from your mouth. Your eyes met his, filled with warmth and understanding.

In this fantasy, he leaned in, lips meeting softly in a tender kiss. His fingers traced the softness of your cheek, feeling the warmth beneath his touch. The taste of espresso mingled with the sweetness of your lips, a unique blend that only you could create. In this dream reality, there was no fear, no anxiety, just two people finding comfort in each other's presence.

“What would you like to order?” The Barista on the register repeated.

Startled from his reverie, Mike hastily blurted out his order, "A latte and a mocha, both small!"

Aware of his volume, he flushed with embarrassment, but his impassioned state rendered him indifferent to etiquette. Paying for the drinks without delay, he claimed a seat by the window facing your house, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Despite the glaring sunlight and the parade of cars obscuring his view, Mike strained his eyes to catch sight of you through the window. Your shadowy outline offered solace, indicating that you were safe and sound. In contrast, your brother Gregory appeared increasingly agitated, doodling with shaky hands.

Concerned, you checked on him intermittently, hoping to ease his discomfort.

Your house consumed Mike's attention, leaving him oblivious to the arrival of the drinks. Abby stepped in to retrieve their coffees, presenting Mike with a gentle nudge back to reality.

"How's yours?" she inquired, attempting to break his trance. Snapped out of his daydream, Mike took a sip and confirmed, "Yeah, it's good." Almost immediately, his gaze returned to the reflection of your house in the mirror.

Fixated on your home, Mike caught a glimpse of you speaking on the phone, setting off a barrage of questions in his mind. Who were you speaking to? Was there someone else in your life? Dismissing the thought of a secret partner, he rationalized that he would have detected indicators of such-jewelry, perhaps a ring. Unless…

"You seem to like that house," Abby observed, taking a sip of her latte.

“I like the design. You know I wanted to be a—“

"Contractor," Abby concluded, and Mike nodded vigorously. His fascination with architecture was well-known, but the true extent of his infatuation remained shrouded in mystery.

"Hopefully, you'll get to live in a beautiful home someday, Abby," Mike responded earnestly, his stare fixed on the distant house. While not prone to overt displays of emotion, his wishes for her happiness emanated sincerely. He genuinely cherishes his sister.

"I hope you do too," Abby whispered, her tone laced with warmth. Pondering whether this excursion sprang from simple brotherly camaraderie rather than anything sinister, she allowed herself a flicker of optimism.

Though his gaze remained trained on your place, the tenderness in Abby's voice elicited a faint smile from Mike.

"Let's get a better look," she proposed, rising from her seat.

Inside, Mike wrestled with uncertainty, questioning the wisdom of their actions. Nonetheless, the need to observe you closely trumped his reservations, justifying this intrusion into your privacy.

“I like how you think.” He replied, following his sister out of the coffee shop.

Fortuitously, the absence of traffic allowed Mike to traverse the street without incident, his impulsive stride mirroring a moth drawn to a flickering flame. Unaware of the potential danger, he followed you with unwavering determination, guided by an insatiable curiosity.

While Abby visualized herself residing in such a picturesque abode, lost in dreams of interior decor, Mike scrutinized the property, seeking vulnerabilities. Numerous avenues of entry loomed ominously, igniting a protective instinct within him. The last thing Mike wanted was for a total stranger to be near your house.

Fixated on identifying threats, Mike scanned the landscape from left to right. His focus alighted upon a window, likely your room, taunting him with easy access. Steeling himself against temptation, he decided to not to cross that line- at least, for now.

The sudden noise of crunchy leaves being stomped upon immediately made Mike walk away from the property as he forced Abby out of there, yet his eyes analyzed the new stranger, walking cluelessly at your house with a box of Pizza at hand.

Relief washed over Mike as his insecurities dissolved, only to be supplanted by irritation at the presumed flirtatiousness of the pizza delivery boy. Perhaps he was overreacting, yet his protective instincts screamed for confrontation, longing to rain down retribution upon the perceived transgressor.

Yet, Mike resisted allowing his fury to dictate his actions. With a renewed sense of purpose, he hastily departed from the scene. Your safety brought him solace, but your home's vulnerability haunted him.

As the clock struck 10:30 pm, Mike found himself unable to sleep, despite having ingested more than the recommended dose of his sleeping pills. Typically, these medications ensured a swift descent into slumber, but tonight, they failed to deliver their usual sedative effect.

Despite the meticulously arranged bedding, the soft hum of nature sounds, and the impeccably positioned Nebraska poster, Mike's restlessness persisted. Could it be that thoughts of you encroached upon his subconscious? Unsure of how to quell his turbulent emotions, he lay awake, grappling with his feelings.

At 11:16 am, the silence of the night echoed through. In this deserted hour, as others slumbered, Mike contemplated a surreptitious visit. Perhaps, under the cloak of darkness, he could safeguard your sanctuary from unseen threats.

Wrapping himself in a mantle of darkness, Mike donned a black cap, hoodie, and athletic bottoms - attire atypical for him. Mike did this to devise an alibi. if someone sees him making sure you're safe (which he knows in the sight of strangers it might look weird) he can just say he was exercising. Perfect solution.

Mike walked on his tippy toes, making sure to make no noise, as he grabbed his keys and made sure the house was locked tightly. Locks secure, keys in hand, he commenced the engine.

Despite the pill-induced haze clouding his senses, his concentration sharpened as he navigated deserted streets, only semi-trailers punctuating his journey. Finally arriving at your residence, he prepared to watch over you from the shadows.

The closer Mike got to you, the more his heart raced, pumping blood like a freight train against his ribcage. Every step he took brought forth a flurry of emotions - excitement mingled with anxiety, fear intertwined with anticipation. The fine line between obsession and love blurred in his mind, and it fueled him further into the unknown.

He stopped mere feet away from the window of your room. Peering through the glass pane, he could see the faint silhouette of you under the covers, sleeping peacefully. A wave of relief washed over him, replacing the earlier dread with a strange sense of satisfaction.

He watched you breathe rhythmically, your chest rising and falling gently with each breath. Despite the late hour, there was something comforting about seeing you safe and sound.

His fingers traced the cold surface of the glass, feeling its smooth texture against his palm. A mix of longing and protectiveness swelled within him, making his chest tighten. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed next to you, hold you close, and keep you safe from all harm. Yet, he knew better than to disturb your slumber. This was as close as he dared get.

Mike's heart pounded in his chest as the lights flickered on inside the house. His instincts kicked in, propelling him into the nearest hiding spot - a cluster of dense bushes. He pressed himself against the cool ground, hoping to remain unseen.

What could have caused you to switch on the lights so suddenly? Were you disturbed by something? Or did you have a nightmare?

In the glow of the moonlight, he could see you standing by the window, looking out into the night. Your posture seemed tense and your hoodie confirmed it.

There was an unmistakable air of distress around you, which resonated deeply with Mike's own experiences. Could it be possible that you were going through something similar?

A wave of empathy surged through Mike. He wanted nothing more than to comfort you, to offer you a shoulder to lean on, a warm embrace to banish your fears away. But he knew better than to intrude on your privacy. Instead, he stayed hidden, watching over you from the darkness, praying silently for your well-being.

As you emerged from the room, Mike hesitated briefly. His instincts screamed at him to hide, to disappear into the shadows before being discovered. But something within him rebelled, urging him forward. Before he could think twice, he was lifting the window sash, the squeaky hinge echoing in the silence of the night.

Once inside, he hurriedly shut the window, heart pounding wildly in his chest. He knew this was reckless, yet it felt necessary. As he scanned the slightly messy room, his eyes fell upon the forgotten spot beneath the bed - a haven of security amidst uncertainty. Without giving it a second thought, he squeezed himself underneath, his body brushing against discarded clothes and half-filled notebooks.

In this cramped space, he listened closely for any signs of detection. Sweat trickled down his forehead, mingling with the grit and dust from the floor. He felt exposed yet strangely protected, like a child playing hide and seek.

"Sorry," he whispered under his breath, hoping you would understand his intentions.

Mike was already anxious, the adrenaline of being in your room and the effects of the dosage made him a panicked mess.

The sound of you entering the room sent a ripple of dread through Mike. His heart pounded against his ribcage, beating out an erratic rhythm that threatened to give him away. Sweat dripped from his brow, pooling in the dimly lit corner where he lay concealed. His breath hitched in his throat, each gasp amplified in the quiet space.

When you moved closer to the bed, Mike held his breath, bracing for impact. But instead of anger or fear, a scream echoed through the room. Startled, he scrambled back, knocking into a pile of books that had somehow ended up under the bed. Papers rustled and pages fluttered, creating a symphony of noise that seemed deafening in the silent bedroom.

"I'm fucked," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

To be continued…

Thank you so much for reading. Hope you will support this mini series! xoxo (if you want to be tagged on the next part let me know!)

#Strange Fascination #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt fanfic #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt angst #mike schmidt headcanons #Strange Fascination mini series #mike fnaf #mike schmidt fnaf #mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson #jhutch #jhutch1992 #mike schmidt x y/n #Mike Schmidt x gn!reader #Mike schmidt x gn!reader smut #Stalker Mike Schmidt #Mike Schmidt Stalker

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stellayuta · 3 months

Text

Love on The Grid - Formula 1 AU! Yuta Okkotsu - Pt 5 (FINALE)

Your likes, comments and reblogs really encourage me to write more! So do interact with this post and let me know your thoughts 💙

PART 1 ||| PART 2 ||| PART 3 ||| PART 4 ||| PART 5

synopsis: One-night stands were nothing but a necessary painkiller for your inability to cross paths with true love. Your most recent find at a Vegas Club was no different. He was boring, obedient, SLOW! You leave him high and hanging hoping you'd never see him again until you find yourself gawking at a supersized billboard of him on a Vegas highway with the title 'LEGEND RETURNS TO VEGAS'.

content: 18+ only. Formula one driver! Yuta x f! reader, all sorts of sexy stuff (fingering, oral, orgasm denial), swearing, angsty elements, cheating and discussion of mental health <3 WARNING! Always use protection!

word count: 10k

a/n: part 5 and the final part! For the purpose of this story, Last race of the season takes place in Japan, not Abu Dhabi.

"Y/N..." A voice tries to break your rigid concentration. "Listen, Y/N..."

"What!" you snap finally, turning to face your anxious coworker. You look away from your monitor to find one of the timid interns holding her laptop shakily, mortified at your outburst. You clear your throat and quickly readjust your computer glasses.

"I'm sorry about that, I was just going through some of the client meeting notes." You clarify, pointing at your screen. "What's wrong?"

"No, I just wanted to make sure the tickets were booked right. I've never traveled out of the county. And this is such a big deal as an intern, I-I want to make sure I do everything right!" she blurts out, making you give her a small, nostalgic smile. You remember when you were an intern - tiny, timid, clueless. When you moved out of your small town, you left behind all the things that restricted or haunted you. Now your new job is flashier than ever, in the heart of a metropolitan city, buzzing with people and possibilities and with a promotion on the horizon. It had been a year, and you don't even remember Megumi's face anymore. You had no hard feelings and not even a single second of your time left to give to him anymore.

It was hard at first of course, but encouragement and support from your friends and a lot of self-work soon helped you find balance and self-satisfaction in life. You were at your healthiest at this point. Away from turmoil and away from self-doubt.

"Y/N, did you listen?" the intern looked at you nervously, derailing your train of thought yet again.

"Come again, sorry."

"The other Manager has recommended your name to accompany me at the Tech Summit, with two other interns. He said you'll be able to manage us properly. They've already booked your tickets."

You almost choke on the coffee you're sipping.

"What? Who the hell gave them-" you begin to roar but then looking at the poor girl cower in fear, you sit back down.

"No, no. I'm not mad at you."

You were mad because this was the weekend of the last race. The decider match.

Of course, it had been a year, you had metamorphosized, moved on. But you never forgot the race that got you on the edge of your seat back in Vegas. And neither did you forget the man who drove you crazy with lust. Not even for a single day. His business card was still hidden underneath your phone cover, creaseless. You had never dared to look at his number.

Now, you cheered him on as a fan. Following his races, rooting for him. Every now and then, your heart would ache - but you were happy for him. The only connection you had with him was through your device screen.

After a disappointing end to his last season, you had a lot of guilt. He clearly looked a bit weary, insomnia ridden for sure. Not willing to talk during interviews, keeping a low profile. He had gathered a lot of negative press because of this, people on social media sending him death threats, cyber bullying him, picking apart anything he said or did. It broke you to see him that way and there were many times you wanted to reach out - comfort him. But you knew it wasn't right.

You weren't ready then and he definitely didn't need a reminder that you happened to him. And now, it's too late for any of that.

Yuta maintained his aggressive, dominant racing style that he cultivated over the last year compared to the calm, calculative run he had during the years prior. It was a shock to the grid, but newer fans were very fond of the new beast that the track had birthed. He spoke less, remained polite and stayed out of trouble - focusing everything on winning races.

Fan interaction was the least of his concerns right now because Geto's team, Red Bull - had come up with massive and effective updates making the fight for the title a challenging yet thrilling one. They wanted to continue their laurels from last year and secure Geto his second win. They were closely tailed by Gojo and Geto's teammate, Mahito.

Geto and Yuta were currently tied in the standings. The final match was to take place on Sunday. The decider. Yuta and Geto's home race. And you would now miss it because that stupid manager can't be bothered to move his ass.

"I have plans. I can't make it." you flatly tell the intern who merely frowns. She was probably prepared to get a rejection from me because she is ready with her rebuttal. "The manager said you had committed a few weekends this summer. He just picked this one based on that."

"I'll talk to him." you reply, shaking your head and pinching your throbbing temple. With great responsibilities, come great migraines.

"Where is the summit anyway?" you ask, already typing out a message for her manager.

"Oh, It's in Japan. I'm quite excited, it's a beautiful country."

Japan?

You backspace the entire message.

"Never mind, I'm coming." You leave your laptop open as the split window flashes with a formula one ad - "Decider Race in Suzuka, Japan. Join the Fun, December this Year!"

"Let me meet up with your supervisors and talk more."

*****

The immigration at Japan's Nagoya International Airport, with three kids tailing you, hiding behind you like puppies is a bit of hassle with the language barrier and everything, but you persist regardless.

It's rather comfortably cool but not bitingly cold, even for December, owing to Suzuka's more southern location - compared to Tokyo. There is no sign of snowfall as you witnessed from the airplane while it descended. It would be good conditions for the race - a bit dry perhaps. And of course, the summit, the main attraction!

The interns, though a bit overwhelmed by the new environment, are starting to show signs of excitement as well. Their initial shyness is giving way to curiosity, their eyes wide with wonder at the sights and sounds of the bustling airport. You smile, knowing that this experience will be a memorable adventure for them too.

You are finally able to catch a shuttle to the hotel you're staying at - a five star one (courtesy of your company) and are finally able to relax, staring out the foggy window at the organized and clean Japanese streets, and the people, dressed in plain, formal clothes walking to work perhaps. You almost get lost in the mundanity of it all until the interns alert you that the hotel is here.

You all get down with all your luggage and gawk at the premier hotel building with its cream granite exterior, European design and tall pillars. It looked a bit out of place in the minimalistic spread of Suzuka. There is already a line at the receptionist's desk when you near it, making you sigh.

"Ah foo-" you turn to face your interns. "Can one of you hold the place while I sit somewhere?" The interns hesitantly, but definitively shake their head to say No. Kids, they grow up fast.

You stand in line for what feels like an hour but is only a few minutes until you hear an entourage approach you with their shiny, expensive luggage and matching clothes.

"We have VIP access, let us cut." one of them, a suited and no-nonsense woman tells you. You raise a brow at her, staring at her chapping red lips and burgundy jacket.

"Like hell. Cut after us, we're going first." You tell them flatly.

"Listen, we don't have time for this so please just comply..." the woman tries to negotiate but you don't want to budge.

"I don't have time either." you raise your hand.

"Let me handle this..." A man steps in front of the woman, towering over both of you. He is completely covered head to toe in a red beanie, red track suit and dark glasses with a black face-mask. Before he can say anything though, he simply looks at you and your interns.

"Y/N?" He removes his glasses to show a pair of cerulean eyes that you immediately match with a snowy head and a flashy personality in your brain.

"No way..." you clasp at your mouth. "Gojo Satoru?" you exclaim, confusing the parade of staff, probably Ferrari staff behind him.

"Next!" the receptionist bellows before you two can talk further and you make haste, finishing up the formalities, grabbing the keycard and returning to talk to Gojo, followed by your heard of puppies who look at Gojo skeptically. Of course they would, if a flashy, red man showed up.

"I'm- Where the hell have you been? You just disappeared!" He says and you open your mouth to defend yourself but he clearly has more to say.

"Yuta was distraught! What the hell happened between the two of you anyway! He won't talk to Geto, well they are kind of on weird terms now anyway. But he won't even talk to me!"

Hearing Yuta's name makes you immediately divert your eyes.

"H-How has he been?" you ask, softly.

"Well he was in a mood last season. We were all afraid he'd run us over with his Merc." Gojo admits, recalling some eerie memory of Yuta. "Well, specifically he was angry. But wouldn't talk about it. He got reprimanded by the management of course and started to focus his anger on the races instead." He tells you.

"I mean, he was always a beast on the track, a once in a generation talent. But now, he's simply incomparable. The only races he lost out on this season were ones where he pushed the car so hard, the engine or the mechanism went off."

Internally, you are happy that Yuta seems to be doing well. But somewhere, you feel a pang of discomfort. This isn't the Yuta you know. Or any of his peers know.

"Give me your number by the way..." Gojo asks, excitedly, removing his phone, also bright red. Human Ferrari he is, for sure.

"What for?"

"To leak on the internet..."

"Gojo..."

"What to hang out of course. And I have something to send to you." He says, forcing you to divulge your number which you do, with a grimace. What could go wrong anyway.

"Oh, and I don't know if you're still on talking terms with Yuta but, he's on floor 5 of this hotel, meet him if you want-" Gojo tells you and your heart skips a beat. You sneak a glance at your keycard and feel your throat go dry. You are on floor 5 as well. Before you can say anything else though, the Ferraris are on their way.

"Make sure you are free tomorrow! It's race day!" He says, without turning as their entourage enters the glass elevators.

"How do you know him, Y/N, he was quite hot..." One of the interns tugs at your elbow.

"Was he a former sweetheart?" The other intern grins at you.

"Hell no!" you snap. "That's a professional formula one racer. Watch ESPN a bit more, kids." you say, pulling them along with you to floor 5. You hope and pray with all your might that you don't run into Yuta at any point. Only when you send them off to their suites and enter your own, you finally take a huge breath of relief.

You thought you were over Yuta as well. That you could look at him and interact with him as fan. Maybe that was the case, given you'd never see run into him again. You cover your reddening face with your hands as you slump down to the ground and go into memory mode. It all comes back to you all of a sudden. His height, his dark hair, his large, innocent eyes, his firm, toned body and careful hands. His calming voice and his cozy demeanor. The more you think about him, the soggier your panties feel. You cannot afford to get out of this hotel room and run into him. You have no idea what you will do to him if you see him. Plus, what if he has a girlfriend now? Control yourself, Y/N. Show maturity.

You suck in a harsh breath and get off the carpeted floor, instead removing your laptop from your bag and checking emails to distract yourself. An ad keeps popping up in the corner of your screen though - about the Decider Race in Suzuka. And after all your attempts to ignore it, you finally click on it, annoyed.

You go through the seats and the prices. Even the cheapest, general admission ticket you can find sells for a fortune, making you gasp at the numbers. Great. This gives you a solid reason to NOT go. Now you can use it as an excuse to convince your brain that you are not losing out on an opportunity.

You shut the tab and continue looking at your agenda for tomorrow, smiling and humming to yourself in relief. That is until you hear your phone buzz to life, beside your laptop.

You check it to see a few messages from an unknown number.

"Helloooo!!!"

"Gojo here. Satoru Gojo. Handsomest driver on the grid. Ferrari's muse and face."

"You are already 20 seconds late at replying. Be quicker!"

You cringe at the string of messages and send him a thumbs up emoji as a reply, snickering menacingly when he sends another string of complaints. You wonder if Gojo too has a queue of women waiting for him to notice them. In that case, has he been influencing Yuta too?

You shut the thought down immediately. You're a fan. You remind yourself.

"Look what I got for you. Thank me later."

*Attached File*

Did he send you a trojan virus? nope. It's worse.

You open up the PDF file to find a ticket of some sort. Only it's the paddock VIP ticket for the race tomorrow. You'll be in Ferrari's stands.

You type out a long, long, long message. One full of swears and reprimands. But you backspace all of it and instead hit the call button.

"Ah, hi. Did you see-"

"WHAT'S THE MEANING OF THIS GOJO SATORU!" you shriek into the phone receiver earning a yelp from Gojo.

"It's a once in a lifetime opportunity, Y/N. You can't say no."

"But-"

"I've already paid."

"....."

"Oh, come on. Cheer for me. Come. You'll have fun!"

You are too angry to answer, and you simply cut the call. After your five minutes of anger subsides, anxiety takes its place. So, this is it. You get to see Yuta demolish the track live. Maybe this will be the last time ever. Maybe it's a good thing.

You decide to not think too much about it and just sleep on it instead. And sleep comes fairly easy, after your day-long air travel and the nervousness that maybe Yuta is hugging his blankets with his muscular arms, right next door. You picture those arms around your waist for a second and reminisce his deep blue eyes as you fall asleep, a bit bothered and surely wet.

*****

The next morning, you wake up before the sun even has a chance to show its face. You take a cold shower and prepare everything for the day to come. The Tech Summit will be a crucial stage to showcase your company and you, and your interns have to do a good job. As soon as the clock strikes 7, you go knocking on their doors to wake them up by force.

"Rise and shine, children! We've got some serious networking ahead of us!" you announce with infectious enthusiasm. Suddenly, the volume of your voice strikes you, and a wave of panic sweeps over you at the thought of waking Yuta. The mere idea of him hearing your voice and peeking out from one of the doors sends a shiver down your spine. With your heart racing, you quickly inform the interns that you're heading to the reception area. Without missing a beat, you make your escape, your high heels tapping a rhythm masked by the plush carpet that blankets the entire floor, each step a silent testament to your urgency.

The ground floor lobby of the hotel in the morning is a serene yet bustling oasis of activity. Sunlight streams in through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm, golden glow across the polished marble floors. The air is filled with a subtle blend of fresh coffee and the delicious aroma of breakfast from the lavish dining court, north of the lobby. Plush, modern sofas and armchairs are arranged in cozy clusters, inviting guests to sit and relax.You were too busy with Gojo to notice any of this, last evening.

As you walk around amongst the many hotel guests who are going about their way, enthralled, you take a seat in one of the sofas. You even see familiar colors, worn by some of the people in groups. You see the full teals of Aston Martin, the pinks of Alpine, the orange of McLaren. Looks like the entire grid is housed in this hotel. You gulp as you try to keep an eye out for any sight of black and subtle teal of Mercedes.

Instead, you feel a shifting of feet beside you and find a group of dark blue and red clad people looking rather grave and sitting on adjacent sofas, in a close huddle. It doesn’t take too long to recognize long, sleek hair half tied up and half down. His snake-like eyes scan the huddle, as if he’s commanding them. You don’t forget the aura of Geto Suguru. A pale guy, with wild matted and blue hair sits beside him, with a manic expression on his face, like he’s his lap dog. This must be Mahito. They seem to be having some sort of serious conversation with their team. You can’t help but listen in, keeping your eyes on the ground.

“So what are we going to do about Strategy A?” one of the Red Bull engineers asks Geto, in a low voice, looking around to see if any of the teams are paying attention.

“Act normal, Garner.” Geto tells him, smiling sweetly but darkly. “Don’t act suspicious and no one will notice.”

“We are to proceed with Strategy B. We don’t attack the rest of the grid today. We will only focus on the Mercedes duo.” Geto states.

“That was the plan all along.” The Red Bull staff interjects. “What are you saying?”

“Well your plan was for me to defend against Okkotsu and Mahito to defend against Merc number 2, Inumaki.” Geto begins as the team leans in closer to pay attention. Mahito seems strangely excited to get a mention from Geto.

“My plan is that we leave Inumaki alone. He’s of no consequence to us. He’ll be too busy defending against the Ferraris.” Geto continues and your brows furrow. What is he on to?

“I am sitting on the pole. And Okkotsu is second. The best way to go about it is to get Mahito to play on the offensive. Okkotsu gets rash and risky when faced with competition or close tailers. It is likely Mahito and Okkotsu will take each other out.”

Your eyes widen as you hear this.

“And Inumaki has the slower car. Ferrari’s engineers wouldn’t anticipate number 2 and 3 being knocked out. They are more prepared for a podium finish, not the top finish. This will ensure that Red Bull will go home with the Driver’s Championship trophy.” Geto concludes his idea and the Red Bull team immediately begin discussing its feasibility. From the sound of it, most of them seem on board. Mahito seems to be the most excited, willing to give anything for Geto to get his second title.

The absurdity of the ongoing discussion is enough for you to look up and find yourself directly looking into Geto Suguru’s skeptical eyes. Your nostrils flare and a sweat breaks out atop your forehead at the thought of being caught. He narrows his eyes at you but dismisses you as a fan. He doesn’t recognize you.

Thank GOODNESS.

You smile at him and quickly move away from their group of sofas. As fast as you can. So they are going to use Yuta’s driving style against him today. Which is fine. They are willing to crash into him to take him out as well. This is all a pre-planned, premeditated attempt to injure, or…you gulp… murder.

You lean against one of the reception desks to gather yourself for a minute. The lobby’s morning hustle now feels like a surreal backdrop to the chilling plot you’ve just overheard. The hum of conversations, the clinking of breakfast dishes, and the soft footsteps of guests blend into a muted buzz as your mind races. You need to warn Yuta, but how?

Your interns show up soon, their bright, eager faces a stark contrast to the dark conversation you just overheard. They’re ready to go for the summit, unaware of the dangerous game being plotted in the corner of the lobby. As they approach, you take a deep breath, plaster on a smile, and try to push the sinister revelations to the back of your mind. You don’t see the Mercedes team anywhere in the lobby anyway, so you take your leave for the moment, feeling a tightness in your chest.

While the task at hand is crucial, you are more than confident that you can handle it flawlessly. The Tech Summit is being held at one of the corporate headquarters in the city area, a sleek skyscraper with reflective glass windows that glisten in the morning sun. As you step into the spacious lobby, you are greeted by an impressive display of innovation: booths showcasing various avenues in computing. Executives in sharp suits mingle with tech enthusiasts, the air buzzing with excitement and possibility.

Once you are in, you send off your beaming and well-prepared interns to talk to some big shots, their enthusiasm palpable as they approach various booths and networking clusters. You retire to a quiet corner, checking your phone and brainstorming for your next move. It's only a few hours until the race in Suzuka, Japan, a pivotal event in the Formula One calendar. The summit’s focus on the intersection of technology and sports is evident, with several companies proudly displaying their investments in Formula One.

Tech giants are pouring millions into F1, not just for branding but for the practical applications of cutting-edge technology in car performance, data analytics, and real-time communication systems. The fusion of high-speed racing and high-tech innovation is a perfect synergy, driving advancements that benefit both the automotive and tech industries.

However, the tension from earlier this morning lingers. Despite the engaging presentations and lively discussions around you, the clandestine conversation you overheard refuses to leave your mind. The race in Suzuka today is more than just a sporting event—it’s a battleground where the stakes are life and death, a thought that chills you as you consider Geto’s ruthless strategy.

You open your phone to find a few messages from Gojo and it makes a bulb go off in your head.

“Come to the hotel lobby at around 4PM. I’ll send someone to pick you up. I’m at the track right now.” He has texted. You read the message and pull out Yuta’s card from your phone cover. You don’t waste time and call him right away. A woman receives your call on the other end.

“Hello! Is Yuta free?” you ask, desperately but you can tell from the woman’s silence that it is not the case.

“He won’t be free until after the race. I’m sorry.”

‘I-it’s fine.” you laugh nervously, keeping the phone.

That idea was a bust.

Before you can think more, you are pulled in by one of your interns to help you out with a heated discussion they are having with a company representative on use cases of Artificial Intelligence. The rest of the morning and afternoon goes this way, with your hands full of discussions and debates with Men in Tech, mistaking you for one of the interns until you sigh and show them your badge of ‘Director of Software Engineering’, before obliterating them during the ‘discussions’ with a curt smile.

You don’t think about the race until after you have exited the premises of the Summit along with your pumped up interns who are waxing lyrical about you. They won’t stop talking even on the cab ride back home.

“That was amazing Y/N. You saved our necks.”

“Just be confident and patient till they give you a moment to strike.” you tell them wearily.

Probably a strategy Mahito will be using today.

“Do we go out today for drinks? How about it?” The interns begin discussing among themselves while I tune them out, shaking my leg in agitation.

“Y/N, want to join us?” one of them asks you eagerly and politely reject their invitation.

“I have plans today.”

“What plans?” The male intern asks, curious. The other two also lean in to listen.

“I am going to watch a Formula One Race, it’s in Suzuka.” You tell them and their eyes go all sparkly before they begin smirking at you.

“It’s the hot driver guy isn’t it. He invited you? That’s awesome Y/N! Looks like he’s interested!” This makes you scoff. “He’s just a friend. He’s not the one I have eyes for anyway.”

“Oooo, so there is someone you have eyes for!” they chime together. “Who is it?”

An image instantly pops into your head. One of him hovering over you as you moaned out his name. You smile to yourself and dismiss the interns’ questions, making all of them pout.

As you enter the hotel lobby, a stark contrast from its earlier bustling atmosphere greets you. The lively chatter and movement have dissipated, leaving behind an eerie quiet that amplifies the grandeur of the space. The reception area, usually a hub of activity, is now manned by a solitary staff member who nods politely as you pass.

Heading towards the elevator, a wave of unease washes over you, chilling your hands. Should you attempt to find Yuta by knocking on every door on the fifth floor? No, that would likely result in being ejected from the hotel.

Entering your room with a frustrated grunt, you slam the door shut behind you. Another cold shower helps clear your mind, though your appetite remains nonexistent. Stomach growling, you mechanically brush your teeth and change out of your morning pant suit into a comfortable ensemble: a red sweater, blue jeans, and sneakers. The choice of red is a nod to Ferrari, aligning with your plans for the day.

Feeling more at ease in casual attire, you pause to gather your thoughts. It’s 3:45 PM. You should head out now. You grab your phone, keys and wallets and walk out of the suite, impatiently trotting towards the elevator. You turn the corner just in time to see it close. Maybe you are hallucinating but you barely spot a glint of black and teal behind the doors as they swiftly close.

You stop dead in your tracks for merely a moment before you sprint towards the elevator. But that one is gone now. You press the down button for the second one and tap your foot on the ground, waiting for it to arrive desperately.

When it takes you down to the ground floor, you come out, wildly looking around to see the familiar colors again. When you finally see them, your words all drown in your feelings as you see the black and teal clad man get into the back of a car, giving the driver a quick nod and a short smile.

It was from fairly far away that you saw him, but you were certain. It was Yuta.

You have to hold yourself upright as you nearly begin hyperventilating and the receptionist has to come and check on you.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m fine.” you assure him, as he makes you sit on one of the sofas. You watch intently through the glass windows as Yuta’s car zooms past. That was your chance! If only you had come out two minutes earlier and weren’t drifting away in your fantasies.

You had to focus now. You can’t afford to have your legs turn to jelly or your head spin out of control anymore.

When the person meant to pick you up arrived, donning a red jacket and black pants, you were completely calm and composed — now willing to think clearly about what to do next.

The drive to the Suzuka Circuit is rather short for obvious reasons. The hotel had been picked to be accessible from the circuit. The car your driver has brought along isn’t a Ferrari, unfortunately.

Arriving at Suzuka Circuit as the evening settles in, the atmosphere is electric with anticipation. The sprawling complex is illuminated by bright floodlights, casting long shadows across the paddock and grandstands. The air buzzes with the hum of engines from nearby practice sessions and the excited chatter of fans who have gathered from around the world to witness the fight for domination between Red Bull and Mercedes.

The paddock itself is a hive of activity. Teams in their distinctive colors, now suited up in their race-suits, bustle about, mechanics fine-tuning the cars under the watchful eyes of engineers. Media personnel dart between interviews, capturing the pre-race fervor and probing for insights. Paparazzi lurk at every corner, their cameras flashing intermittently as they seek shots of drivers and celebrities who have shown up to support the drivers/take pictures for social media.You stare at the whole spread, starry eyed and very much in awe. It feels surreal as the world around you moves at 2x speed.

The cars themselves are a spectacle to behold. The sleek, aerodynamic designs gleam under the lights, adorned with sponsor logos and intricate details. Each team’s car reflects their engineering prowess and commitment to performance excellence, poised to navigate the demanding twists and turns of Suzuka Circuit. You want to go ahead and take a closer look but the Ferrari guy who is guiding you around stops you from doing so until later.

“You can see Ferrari’s car later.” he tells you reassuringly but you frown at him.

You spot Mercedes, clad in their silvery-black-teal livery, standing out with their meticulous preparations, but you maintain a straight face. Red Bull, in their vibrant blue and red, exude confidence and determination as you narrow your eyes at them.

You are finally taken to Ferrari’s section — an attractive mix of red and gold flying in the stands and the air. The fans add to the vibrant tapestry of the evening. Dressed in team colors, they wave flags and banners, eagerly awaiting autographs and selfies with their favorite drivers. The scent of food from vendors mixes with the exhaust fumes, creating a unique blend that signifies race day excitement.

“Oh, look. There’s Mr. Gojo!” your guide cheers excitedly pointing to a separated section where two shiny, red cars sit in all their glory, surrounded by an army of mechanics and staff, also dressed in red. Seated in one of Ferrari's cars, a familiar figure catches your eye. He sits in the cockpit, helmet off, his tousled white hair catching the light as he adjusts his gloves with practiced ease. Spotting you amidst the crowd, Gojo flashes a brilliant smile and waves enthusiastically from the cockpit.

“Excited?” He tries to yell out over the crowd as you near him and his team. You nod and smile at his engineers before cornering him.

“Did you see Yuta?” you ask Gojo.

“Busy day man. Haven’t really kept an eye out for him. Why won’t you go talk to him? Mercedes is right over there!” He says, pointing a gloved finger at the black and teal team.

“Won’t allow her… strategic secrets can’t be spilled.” Your guide tells you and Gojo, who seems to be unaware.

“Gojo, there’s something I need to tell you…” you begin, your unwavering eyes grabbing Gojo’s full attention as he puts on a serious face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I-It’s about Geto Suguru.”

“Suguru?” Gojo asks, his voice softening by a note. “What’s up with him?”

“Their team. They’re planning a dangerous strategy.” you say, only to get a few stares from the engineering team over at Ferrari. Gojo narrows his eyes at you, the cerulean blue piercing through you.

“And how do you know about this strategy?”

“I overheard. They’re going to make Yuta crash out.”

“Y/N.” Gojo calls out your name, and for the first time in his life, he sounds serious as hell. “Are you accusing Suguru of conspiracy? You know it’s illegal and could cost him his license.”

“But that’s what I heard!” you try to reason but Gojo doesn’t want to hear any of it.

“Suguru has known us since we were young. He would not do such a thing. And I suggest you don’t say this to anyone, not without evidence. Especially to Yuta, he won’t take kindly to it.” Gojo warns you. You hesitate on your spot before your Ferrari guide has to pull you away from the cars.

“Okay, that’s about it.” He says, dragging you away. “We can’t meddle with his concentration right before the race. Talk with him later, Miss Y/N.”

“B-but, I wasn’t done.” you complain, feeling a sting of pain in your elbow where the man grips you. “Hey, let me go!”

“Listen! I just don’t want you confusing our drivers!” He finally snaps, spitting out at you.

“Their mental state is important! You can’t just say these things to them and bother them right before a crucial race!” he roars as I cringe in the slight flame of fear I feel inside him.

Everyone is way too busy in their chatter and taking photos of cars and drivers to notice what’s happening so you will have to struggle out of this on your own.

You try to break free from his grip but in vain.

“Let them get onto the track. I’ll let you go then.” He tells you, calmly.

“Are you holding me hostage right now? I said I understand, let me go!” you yelp, going for another twist of your arm to break free but the man has an iron grip. You begin panicking again now until you see another arm appear from the corner of your eye and hold on to the guide’s arm.

The arm, covered in silvery black, padded material of a race suit. When you look at his face, your breath nearly stops. He doesn’t make eye contact with you, he barely seems to have noticed you. His penetrating gaze is fixed on your guide and he has him trapped in place.

“What’s the problem here?” He asks, in a rough low voice.

“N-Nothing, I was just escorting her away. Nothing wrong here, Mr. Okkotsu.” the guide stutters away, intimidated by Yuta.

Yuta looks the same, yet noticeably different at the same time. His once doe-like, innocent eyes now are half-lidded and uninterested, hiding secrets and carrying unknown burdens. He barely wants to smile, his lips stuck in a straight, firm line unwilling to curve. His jaw seems a bit more defined now, seemingly as he appears to look slightly manlier, and a lot more unapproachable. He has noticeable purple shadows under his eyes now and an eerily heavy aura.

“Do you not know how to behave with a woman? Leave her at once.” He says, grimly. When the guide finally lets me go and scurries away, Yuta finally looks at me, “Please, take—” but before he can finish his sentences, his lips freeze and his pupils dilate. You yourself let out a small gasp before his name exits your mouth in the sweetest voice possible. “Yuta…”

Yuta stands still for a while, his gaze not moving from you. You see his lips quiver and the muscles in his jaw ripple as he wordlessly takes his leave, moving quickly through the people, running away from you.

Not wanting to let him go to the race like that, you follow him. You follow him into a unisex restroom, closing and locking the door behind you as you find him fidgeting with the tap and the paper towels, unwilling to look at you or the mirror. The dim, dirty lights of the place only highlight his somber features as you frown at him.

You stand next to him until he is forced to acknowledge your presence.

“H-how have you been, Y/N?” he asks, in a shaky voice.

Good? Better? I haven’t moved on from you? What do you tell him?

The stench and claustrophobia of this restroom doesn’t help the situation at all.

“I’ve been doing better, Yuta. How have you been?” you ask, tenderly. He still won’t look at you.

“I’ve been the same really. Just working hard. Racing. Boring stuff. Haha.” He laughs nervously, licking his lips, keeping his eyes down.

“Yuta, if you don’t want to see me right now or talk to me. Tell me.” You say, with concern. “I don’t want to spoil your mood before the race.”

“Not at all. A racer can’t let things like this affect him.” He laughs nervously yet again. “How come you’re here? Gojo invite you or something?”

“He did. That’s besides the point.” You say, getting back to business. “I wanted to meet you to tell you something.”

“Why? Do you want to get laid again? Did Megumi cheat on you again?” He interrupts. “We have all the time after the race, why don’t you excuse me now.” He furrows his brows.

“No, that’s not—”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that.” He confesses. “But, Y/N. I don’t know if I can actually handle seeing your face right now. Because you haunt my waking hours and my nightmares every single day.” He continues.

“I never stopped thinking about how you left me that day. I was begging you to stop. You don’t love me, right? Heck, I haven’t even been able to look at a woman after that. Then let me suffer in peace.” Hearing all of that breaks your heart but you have no right to console him.

“Is there anything left to say Y/N? Do you want to tell me how much you don’t love me?” he asks bitterly now, finally looking into your eyes. Dark blue, not somber anymore but teary. Vulnerable. Evidently, very much in love with you, after all those months apart.

“Well then, the race is going to start soon, I should —”

Before he can finish though, you grab his suit and pull him down to kiss him. Euphoria spreads through your mind and body, a soothing calm coating your entire being as you feel his lips mingle with yours. He doesn’t resist — he too is a victim of his own yearning.

The two of you grab a hold of each other's hair and deepen the kiss. You entirely mess up his perfectly combed hair until it falls to the front of his forehead, brushing against yours. The two of you don’t even surface for a breath of air and keep kissing until it’s physically impossible and you have to separate — your face red, and your lips swollen. Both of you panting.

You swipe your thumb on his plump bottom lip, staring at it as you speak to him.

“Did you get your answer now?”

Yuta seems to be in a daze though, completely bowled over by your bold attempt.

“Listen carefully, Yuta.” you tell him. “The raging maniac I’ve been seeing on the track this past year. That’s not you. You have to play it smart and smooth today, do you understand?”

“Y/N…” he chants, running a hand through your hair and pinching your cheek. “If I don’t drive dominantly, I won’t win.”

“Okkotsu Yuta, if you have ever loved me, promise me you will not drive rashly today.” you tell him clearly, with an air of finality in your voice and he stares at you.

“I’ll do what’s best at that moment, Y/N. Don’t worry about it.”

“No! You have to promise me!”

“Okay, okay!” he says, giving up, separating from you and opening up the restroom door. “Race starts in a few. I’m going for real now.”

“Please, Yuta. Be careful.” you repeat, tearing up now. “There’s so much I want to say to you later.”

“I’ll see you later with the trophy in hand, that’s a promise.” Yuta states. And for the first time in what seems like an eternity, he brings out the smile he always flashed earlier. Your Yuta’s heart-warming, genuine smile.

The two of you leave the restroom at last and he would not let you go back to the Ferrari zone. Instead, making you sit with his black and silver army of curious Mercedes folk. They all look at you like you’re some kind of shiny toy and it makes you blush and hide behind Yuta.

“Take care of her. Don’t scare her, I will know.” Yuta warns them, taking your hand and leading you to one of the fancy pavilions reserved for staff and their guests. They hand you a pair of headphones and make you sit with some of the women who happen to be the WAGs of the crew and the drivers. You have the pleasure of joining Inumaki’s hot as hell girlfriend who is wearing a silken top and an elegant black skirt along with a heart-winning smile. And there you are with your Ferrari sweater.

[Music recommendation, damn even the color of the audio track goes with the story:]

Yuta runs off quickly after that to hop into his car and have a final conversation with his engineers before he and his teammate Inumaki are called off to join the starting order for the formation lap. From your vantage point, you watch as the sleek, powerful machines take their positions. The sight of Yuta in his Mercedes, with his intense focus and determination, fills you with a mixture of pride and anxiety.

As the formation lap begins, the cars glide gracefully around the track, their engines producing a symphony of power. The tension builds with every passing moment, the crowd’s anticipation reaching a fever pitch. You grip the edge of your seat, your heart racing in sync with the machines on the track. After a few minutes, the cars begin lining up in order again and the crowd goes silent — with Geto and Yuta making up the front line and an eager Mahito right on Yuta’s tail.

The race is about to begin, and you can only hope that Yuta will deliver on his promise. You press your palms together in anticipation and pray for Yuta to be safe.

They show the faces of all twenty drivers in a promotional video running over on the giant screens. You spot Yuta just as they announce the beginning of the race.

The five red lights come to life one by one with a beep and at the next beat of your heart, they go off, the car engines revving to life and the crowd going ballistic with cheer as Geto crosses Yuta and Yuta rapidly shifts to the side, going tire to tire with Geto’s Red Bull, sliding past him by a minimal margin and taking lead of the race as the fans erupt into cheer. You find yourself standing up and pumping your fists in the air.

The cars follow the leading duo, creeping along behind them in quick succession.

“That's Good there Yuta. Keep pushing." You here a robotic voice in your ears. Probably Yuta's engineer.

“Copy that." You hear Yuta's voice and blush. Inumaki’s girlfriend eyeing you and grinning.

As the first lap comes to an end and continues into the second lap, there's a buzz of conversation going on in the room. The engineers and staff moving around, barking at each other and some glued to the gigantic screens.

“The car's doing well. Good job guys." Yuta sends out a message.

You overhear two of the engineers discussing among themselves that Yuta was being chattier and nicer than usual today and you smirk internally.

As the second lap progresses through the team witnesses a strange change in positions. Geto slows down ever so slightly to let Mahito’s car pass. There is a bit of commotion going on inside the room, curious discussions about Red Bull’s strategy taking place but you are aware what's going to happen as Mahito's slithering car inches closer to Yuta and activates its DRS.

“No!" You yell out and the entire room turns to look at you.

“Yuta! He needs to get out of the way! He-"

But before the engineers can register what you're saying or what's happening on the track you see Mahito’s car touch Yuta's from the behind, Yuta intercepting this and narrowly avoiding being tossed in the air. He does get pushed off the track though and into the grass until he gains control and slowly makes his way back onto the track. Now in 7th place.

You are the only one who breathes a sigh of relief because you're the only one who is aware of what went down behind the scenes. There is an uproar in the room now, a lot of them cursing out Mahito and Red Bull to no end.

One of them finds the time to connect with Yuta on the Radio and ask if he's fine.

“Yeah, I'm alright guys." He reassures everyone. “Pushed far behind though. That seemed pretty deliberate. Put that up for review please." His voice breaks through the radio.

The crowd collectively gasps as they now see Geto swap places with Mahito and regain his position as the leader.

“Yuta. We can salvage this. Stick to the first strategy. Try to be aggressive.” The engineer instructs Yuta.

"Copy, that. At least until I gain P3" Yuta replies, making the engineers exchange panicked glances.

You see Yuta in action on the big screen and now understand what people have been saying about his feral driving. You witness as he pushes the car to its absolute limit, overtaking two cars — an Aston Martin and Itadori’s Ferrari in one go at one of the fast corners, leaving them startled in his dirty air. He's now racing at P4, after Inumaki lets him pass as per team orders.

“Oh my god, he's up with Gojo now." Inumaki's girlfriend squeaks, holding your hand with an iron grip,making you break out into a sweat two.

Gojo’s Ferrari and Yuta’s Merc go head on, battling each other, getting into each other's way. Gojo is as unpredictable as Yuta is ferocious.

The two of them swap positions a good four times until Yuta is able to zoom past him in a dramatic show, in one of the wider corners, right into the straights.

He's now P3. And the only competition he has in front of him are the red bulls.

“You're in podium position right now. Second place is ensured. Don't do anything stupid." The engineer warns Yuta.

The room doesn't hear back from Yuta for a while until all of you witness his aggressive drive turn to a more smooth one for the first time in over a year.

"Copy that. I've a promise to keep.”

The crowd, the crew, the engineers, the photographers, the journalists, the WAGs and you. All of you watch as time stills, Yuta moving like a stream of water, smooth and direct, inching close to Mahito's car.

They enter the DRS zone and the Mercedes’ flap flips open to let in the air stream.

Yuta slips to the side staying just a tad bit behind Mahito whose intent now seems to push Yuta off the track for good if he attacks.

Mahito who was expecting and anticipating Yuta to fault, for him to aggressively move past keeps waiting as they keep driving on the straight with DRS on.

It isn't until Mahito keeps straight, too drowned in his confusion to notice Yuta speed up right as they turned into a corner.

Without warning, right as the DRS zone ends Yuta hits the throttle and speeds out of Mahito's reach, making the crowd go crazy.

In that moment, everyone on the track and in the stands is rooting for Yuta. They are waiting with bated breathes as the last lap approaches and Yuta's car creeps closer to Geto’s Red Bull.

The engineers have nothing to say now, they too, watch on in awe.

Your hands clasp over your mouth, as you watch without blinking as they enter the last corners.

Call it luck.

Talent and hard work can take you very far. But the harder you work, the better your luck is. And in those final seconds, Yuta happened to have newer, more seasoned tyres compared to Geto's more worn ones owing to an earlier pit stop. Maybe your prayers worked.

And that was it for Red Bull.

Yuta pushes the car and rockets out of the corner, zooming towards the finish line as the checkered flag waves the declaration of victory for him. Leaving the red bull, the ferraris, everyone who ever doubted him in the dust of the track.

He pumps his fists out of the cockpit, screaming profanity into the radio.

“FUCKKK YESSSS!!!!"

“LET'S GO BABY!!! LET'S FUCKING GOOO AAAAHHHH!!!"

He pulls his car aside while the others pass and returns to the track to do some celebratory donuts with his car, the steam from his tyres enveloping the car.

It's like a festival in Mercedes' operations room. Everyone is hugging each, patting each others’ back, crying. Inumaki's girlfriend is mumbling to herself, still holding your hand.

And you?

You are in utter shock. Absolutely unable to form sentences.

One of the engineers has to shake you awake.

“Okkotsu has done it! He's done it! Not just that, Inumaki came in third! We've won both titles! Mercedes has done it!"

"H-huh?” You choke out, tearing up.

"Don't you want to see him? He's coming in right now!” the team exclaims, crowding at the door, aching to get out and meet their winner.

Out in the paddock, the teams have arrived to welcome their hard-fought warriors. The various colors stand together in unison waiting beside the tracks, separated from the drivers by the chain fence.

You see a line of women waiting by, standing out from the teams thanks to their eye-catching, elegant attires. They looked like supermodels — tall, magazine cover beauties. They must be the WAGs.

You suddenly feel very conscious about your sweater and jeans. Just a year ago, you too had the most exquisite outfit possible, completely ruined by Yuta on his Lambo.

The drivers show up one by one as the paddock welcomes them. There is an impressive cheer for the arrival of Gojo Satoru, P4. He winks at the WAGs as they appear totally distracted from their own racer boyfriends but he doesn't stay for long.

He meets up midway with a dejected looking Geto and takes him away to some place you can't quite see.

Looks like they want to have a talk.

If the cheer for Gojo was something, it's nothing compared to the deafening roar championship winner, Yuta receives as soon as his Mercedes pulls in.

He jumps out of the car, removes his gloves, helmet and fireproof and comes running straight towards your lot, jumping onto them as they screech, hoisting him up in the air and ferally rubbing his hair.

“Well done, boy!"

“Well done!" They chant.

When they finally let go and you're able to see Yuta. You don't see any sign of the depressed ghost of a man you saw earlier. This was the Yuta you knew and loved. Happy, shining bright, eyes full of life.

He wipes the sweat of his forehead as he approaches you and grabs you by the waist to pick you up and twirl you around.

He presses his sweaty nose to yours, his dark eyes twinkling.

“We did it, baby. I kept my promise." He laughs between words.

"Now then,” he smiles at me giddily, walking away from the team with me still in his arms.

"What did you want to say to me earlier?”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Telling you just how much I love you will take more than a few minutes, Yuta." You kiss his nose.

“More than a few hot nights." You kiss his forehead.

“And more than a lifetime." You say, finally leaving a kiss on his lips.

“I love you, Okkotsu Yuta."

You press your foreheads together, as a quick paparazzo clicks a picture of the two of you.

a/n: thank you everyone for reading! I was able to power through the chapters and put everything out quickly. Hope you guys enjoyed the tale of Racer Yuta!

----> BONUS<----

You hold the headboard of your bed for support as you grin down at a very engaged Yuta, lost in your juicy womanhood, holding onto your thighs for dear life as you sit on his face. His enthusiasm as he suckles and bites your sensitive zones drives you crazy and you come all over his face for what seems the tenth time in the past three days. He just refuses to let you go whenever he visits you in your city. You have to nearly always put in an extra sick day to cater to his and your needs. The two of you look out onto a bustling city from your high-rise condo. You wonder how many people know that a world-class, champion racing driver is eating your brains out right above their heads. The thought makes you giggle shamelessly.

"Yuta, stop, already." you urge him, laughing between words, pulling at his hair to get him to stop.

"Nope, I can't." he admits, looking up at you, with lust filled eyes. "I only get so many days with you. Need to make the most of this time."

You roll your eyes at him, getting off of him, making him whine loudly.

"Patience, lover-boy." you tease him, turning around to sit on his abs. His abdominal muscles are so well defined that even merely sitting on them sends chills up your wussy.

"Time to give my mini some love." you say, smiling at the bulge forming in Yuta's sweatpants. You uncover it to see his valiant dick stand tall, after being ignored by both you and Yuta for so long.

"It got prettier from last time." you pout at it, examining it as you stroke it with love. It pulls out the prettiest groans out of Yuta.

"Y/N, you saw it yesterday." he complains. "When you said you wanted to bounce on it."

"Well, Yuta. You can't just eat me out for all of eternity. Your dick has needs." you shut him up and take him in your mouth, savoring its thickness. It's just like the first time you ever took him in your mouth. You run and tongue up and down his length as Yuta grabs a hold of your ass, holding on till he's moaning.

You lick at his slit, playing around with the pre-cum he's leaking. His cock is so violent, it beats around inside of your mouth, and you silence it by pushing it to the back of your throat, where it sits snugly.

Your nose pushes into Yuta's balls as you let your throat do the rest of the work and soon enough, Yuta is coming inside your mouth with a monstrous groan, leaving you with plenty of fluid to play around with.

When you finally pull off, mouth full of cum, you see that there is still some life in his dick. You turn out to face him and now sit on his dick, grinding back and forth till he becomes hard again.

Your cheeks stay swollen with loads of his cum and Yuta stares at your face in disbelief.

"You really my cum don't you?"

and you nod fervently.

"Swallow it."

You shake your head.

"God, Y/N.." he closes his eyes, leaning back and letting you ride him, feeling his dick prod at your insides, its outline clearly showing through your abdomen.

"Ah..." he moans out, finding a rhythm he likes and the two of you roll your hips together. You want to moan out so bad but your cum sits in your mouth, marinating. You want to make a mess out of it on Yuta's abs and lick it all off.

How you've waited so long to do so many things to Yuta.

Only, your moment gets interrupted by a rogue phone call. From your phone.

"Buh, ish ma day ff!" you say, your mouth full and unable to speak coherently.

Yuta picks up the call and sticks it between his shoulder and an ear, while grabbing and controlling your hips with both his hands. His messy black hair falls on his sweaty forehead and his lashes brush his cheeks as he talks to the caller in his fucked out voice.

"Who's this?"

"Y/N, oh, she's busy."

"Are we fucking? Seriously, Satoru? Nunya business!"

Gojo Satoru!? The shock at his question makes you accidentally swallow the cum and you almost cry out.

"Uh-huh. Cool, bye." Yuta says, eyeing your reaction and closing his eyes.

"Oh no, I swallowed it!" you complain to Yuta and he's barely listening, chasing his orgasm. Soon enough, the grip on your waist tightens and he's coming inside of you this time. His neck stretching back and his adam's apple bobbing in his wide throat.

When he finally regains his composure, he looks back at you to reply.

"You swallowed. Finally! Good job!"

"Yuta!" you pout.

"Aw, baby..." Yuta teases you. "There's always room to do more." he sees, pinching your perky nipples.

"Your interns ask about you, Gojo told me. He takes them to races, VIP passes whenever he's free. He's made them into Ferrari fans, alas." Yuta tells you.

"Ahem. They were promoted to full time employees after the feedback from the Summit." you correct him. "Plus, they know I'm fucking you every chance I get. That's what I'm up to." you say, sliding off his dick and falling into his arms, allowing him to continue playing with your tender breasts.

"You're all packed up for this weekend's Monaco Grand Prix, right? We leave in two days." Yuta reminds you, biting your lower lip and bursting into a smile.

"Of course, I'm looking forward to it." you tell him. The two of you stare at each other, drowning in each other's passion until you realize something.

"Oops almost forgot. I love you, Yuta."

Yuta blushes pink when he hears it. "You say that every ten minutes."

"Isn't that what I told you..." you remind him.

"I'm saying it every day." You place a tender kiss on his lips.

"Forever."

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sturniolopanini · 2 months

Text

Skinny Dipping - Matthew Sturniolo

Warnings: slight swearing? Pretty much fluff, angst as the chapters go on I think, use of y/n 😈, idk what else.

CHARACTERS - 5973 WORDS - 1153

A/N: this if my first fic and part 1😭 I wanted to do a fic based off a song(sabrina carpenters ‘skinny dipping’)and this is what I ugot 🤷‍♀️(just pretend that Matt drinks an oat milk latte ITS PART OF THE STORY) enjoy 🫢

| if we could take it all off and just exist

y/n - pink

Matt - blue

Backstory/summary???: Matt and y/n started dating when they were just teenagers, their relationship was like every other normal highschool relationship-with the exception of stupid fights. They broke up before graduation and both now live their seperate lives not really ever thinking about eachother. That all stops when y/n spots Matt at a coffee shop after years of not seeing eachother.

Moving to LA was always a weird thought for me, I would be away from my family and my friends, but I needed a new start somewhere. I didn’t expect anyone I know to be in LA either, which is why I chose it. I mean a fresh start in California where I can live on my own and basically make new and non toxic friends. Of course I would go visit my home town in Boston, I already miss all my closest friends and especially my mom and dad. and I’ve barely been here a month. Though I need to move out, I’m turning 20 soon and I just got this perfect kickstart to my special life…..I hope

It was a random Wednesday in the week and I was on a phone call with my mom at my go-to coffee shop. My mom was ranting to me about her new kitten she just got, and other stuff but I wasn’t really focused on that right now, too worried about how I’m going to meet any new people or genuinely convince my mom I’m doing well when my only friend right now is practically the barista and she always spells my name wrong when I order a coffee.

I had one earbud in and glancing around the coffee shop, should I go talk to the girl with the laptop who looks like she’s working on something important? Should I walk up to that cute guy and tell him his fly is down? should I-

“Order for- Matt? Oat milk latte!”

Why is that name and order so familiar? It’s like a memory I can’t quite catch on too. But when I look up and see him, it’s almost as if my eyes popped out of my head (not literally, I was just super shocked)

In reality I was stupid to think I wouldn’t recognize anyone here, but especially Matt? My ex? The one who I cried for weeks about to my best friend? The one I swore I would marry? My first ‘I love you’? Even after the breakup I never hated Matt, I understood it was for the better and we both needed to move on because there was nothing really exciting or super great about our relationship. We’d love bomb, have stupid fights, then make up and it’s a whole routine I’m not going to spend time explaining

Either he recognizes me or he thinks I’m really hot and gained the courage to talk to me but he starts walking over. (I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m smoking hot) My heart beat picking up as I quickly take a sip of my iced coffee and hang up on my mom. I feel a sting of guilt, but I’ll get back to her. Please don’t let this be awkward, maybe this is my sign to reach out and make friends?

“Hey, whats up y/n- I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Well, there goes my theory of him finding me smoking hot and gaining the courage to talk to me. I quickly put my ear bud in my case, standing up from my table and standing face to face with him. An undeniable smile paints my face, I’m almost embarrassed by it. His voice is so nostalgic and so warming to the heart…

“I know right- how are you?”

“Good, everything’s good” he pauses for a moment, the silence filling the air “How’s your family, how’s your mom?”

Yet that reminded me that I had just hung up on her to talk to him… I chuckle softly and glance down at my shoes, so aware now how dirty they look, does he think they look dirty?

“My mom is doing amazing- I mean she just got a little kitten as well!”

“I remember she always talked about wanting a cat- now she finally does. Can I see?”

A soft smile appears on my face, i feel a sort of relief from this small chat, it’s some communication in this new place of mine and even if it’s someone I already know- I’d count this as a step forward.

I glance back and grab my phone off the table, unlocking it and going to my messages with my mom. Ignoring the ones where she’s mad at me for hanging up in the middle of her talking about something-I’m too lazy to brief it, but all I know is her messages are in all caps. It’s a white striped kitten with blue eyes and pink paws

“It looks just like the one you used to have as your background on your phone”

I smile softly at his comment, biting my bottom lip briefly to keep me from smiling. I put my phone back in my pocket. He remembers that? How, after years and maybe briefly having that as my background, does he remember that…..I feel enticed and sort of flustered. After all this time of getting over him, I’m not sure I ever fully did. There’s something about his face that makes me so…..it’s like I just wanna stare at him for hours and endure every perfect feature of him.

I can feel my cheeks heat up as I realize I was pretty much doing that- just staring at him with a look of ‘I’m so happy you’re here’ and ‘I’m so alone please be my friend’ which is embarrassing but he has no idea I’m lonely….yikes just listening to myself makes me feel sorry for myself.

“Well how are Nick and Chris?”

“They’re doing good, I was just stressed and needed a break from- everything”

My smile that I seem to think is oh-so-wide dims down when he says that. A more understanding look on my face as I nod slowly. I can feel the air between us grow thick, I don’t understand what happened but I can’t end on this small talk, I hate small talk so much but I desperately need to talk to someone other than my mom.

“Well, y/n it was really nice seeing you” there’s a pause in his words that gives me a sense of hope that he’ll want to see me again and a nervousness as if he’ll shut me down and leave forever. “maybe we should do this on purpose sometime?”

My eyes widen ever so slightly and a soft blush on my cheeks as I smile again. Brushing my hair behind my ear.

To think back on all those moments we had together, would it be healthy to go back to him? After all those fights even if they were stupid….i think it'll have been long enough that we won't harp on the arguments we had in his garage.

“Of course…”

I say, smitten already and we haven’t even been talking for 5 minutes. My delusional ass was so desperate for communication that I’m talking to my ex. Whatever it’s not like I intended to.

A/N muhahahahah, here’s my story finally @muwapsturniolo, sorry I took a lil while but tell me if it’s good 😘😘🙏(I’m shitting my pants scared as we speak)

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hedgehog-moss · 7 months

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Inspired by your last ask! What are the best French books you’ve read that have no English translation yet? I read Play Boy and Qui a tué mon père (really loved the latter) last year and it feels so fun to read something that other Americans can’t access yet

I'm too nervous to make any list of the Best XYZ Books because I don't want to raise your expectations too high! But okay, here's my No English Translation-themed list of books I've enjoyed in recent years. I tried to make it eclectic in terms of genre as I don't know what you prefer :)

Biographies

• Le dernier inventeur, Héloïse Guay de Bellissen: I just love prehistory and unusual narrators so I enjoyed this one; it's about the kids who discovered the cave of Lascaux, and some of the narration is written from the perspective of the cave <3 I posted a little excerpt here (in English).

• Ces femmes du Grand Siècle, Juliette Benzoni: Just a fun collection of portraits of notable noblewomen during the reign of Louis XIV, I really liked it. For people who like the 17th century. I think it was Emil Cioran who said his favourite historical periods were the Stone Age and the 17th century but tragically the age of salons led to the Reign of Terror and Prehistory led to History.

• La Comtesse Greffulhe, Laure Hillerin: I've mentioned this one before, it's about the fascinating Belle Époque French socialite who was (among other things) the inspiration for Proust's Duchess of Guermantes. I initially picked it up because I will read anything that's even vaguely about Proust but it was also a nice aperçu of the Belle Époque which I didn't know much about.

• Nous les filles, Marie Rouanet: I've also recommended this one before but it's such a sweet little viennoiserie of a book. The author talks about her 1950s childhood in a town in the South of France in the most detailed, colourful, earnest way—she mentions everything, describes all the daft little games children invent like she wants ageless aliens to grasp the concept of human childhood, it's great.

I'll add Trésors d'enfance by Christian SIgnol and La Maison by Madeleine Chapsal which are slightly less great but also sweet short nostalgic books about childhood that I enjoyed.

Fantasy

• Mers mortes, Aurélie Wellenstein: I read this one last year and I found the characters a bit underwhelming / underexplored but I always enjoy SFF books that do interesting things with oceans (like Solaris with its sentient ocean-planet), so I liked the atmosphere here, with the characters trying to navigate a ghost ship in ghost seas...

• Janua Vera, Jean-Philippe Jaworski: Not much to say about it other than they're short stories set in a mediaeval fantasy world and no part of this description is usually my cup of tea, but I really enjoyed this read!

Essays / literary criticism / philosophy

• Eloge du temps perdu, Frank Lanot: I thought this was going to be about idleness, as the title suggests, and I love books about idleness. But it's actually a collection of short essays about (French) literature and some of them made me appreciate new things about authors and books I thought I knew by heart, so I enjoyed it

• Le Pont flottant des rêves, Corinne Atlan: Poetic musings about translation <3 that's all

• Sisyphe est une femme, Geneviève Brisac: Reflections about the works of female writers (Natalia Ginzburg, Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Townsend Warner, etc) that systematically made me want to go read the author in question, even when I'd already read & disliked said author. That's how you know it's good literary criticism

Let's add L'Esprit de solitude by Jacqueline Kelen which as the title suggests, ponders the notion of solitude, and Le Roman du monde by Henri Peña-Ruiz which was so lovely to read in terms of literary style I don't even care what it was about (it's philosophy of foundational myths & stories) (probably difficult to read if you're not fully fluent in French though)

Did not fit in the above categories:

• Entre deux mondes by Olivier Norek—it's been translated in half a dozen languages, I was surprised to find no English translation! It's a crime novel and a pretty bleak read on account of the setting (the Calais migrant camp) but I'd recommend it

• Saga, Tonino Benacquista: Also seems to have been translated in a whole bunch of languages but not English? :( I read it ages ago but I remember it as a really fun read. It's a group of loser screenwriters who get hired to write a TV series, their budget is 15 francs and a stale croissant and it's going to air at 4am so they can do whatever they want seeing as no one will watch it. So they start writing this intentionally ridiculous unhinged show, and of course it acquires Devoted Fans

Books that I didn't think existed in English translation but they do! but you can still read them in French if you want

• Scrabble: A Chadian Childhood, Michaël Ferrier: What it says on the tin! It's a short and well-written account of the author's childhood in Chad just before the civil war. I read it a few days ago and it was a good read, but then again I just love bittersweet stories of childhood

• On the Line, Joseph Ponthus: A short diary-like account of the author's assembly line work in a fish factory. I liked the contrast between the robotic aspect of the job and the poetic nature of the text; how the author used free verse / repetition / scansion to give a very immediate sense of the monotony and rhythm of his work (I don't know if it's good in English)

• The End of Eddy, Edouard Louis: The memoir of a gay man growing up in a poor industrial town in Northern France—pretty brutal but really good

• And There Was Light, Jacques Lusseyran: Yet another memoir sorry, I love people's lives! Jacques Lusseyran lost his sight as a child, and was in the Resistance during WWII despite being blind. It's a great story, both for the historical aspects and for the descriptions of how the author experiences his blindness

• The Adversary: A True Story of Monstrous Deception, Emmanuel Carrère: an account of the Jean-Claude Romand case—a French man who murdered his whole family to avoid being discovered as a fraud, after spending his entire adult life pretending to be a doctor working at the WHO and fooling everyone he knew. Just morbidly fascinating, if you like true crime stuff

#ask #book recs #the book i started reading last night is The Naked Neanderthal by Ludovic Slimak and i also didn't #expect it to have an english translation but it does #i'm only at the beginning and so far it's philosophical ponderings about what kind of creature the neanderthals were #if they were humans in a different way than us. with a different kind of intelligence #and how to understand it without projecting our own way of being in the world onto this other humanity #sorry to quote cioran again but it reminds me of when he said every generation misses the good old days and #if we retrace our steps from regret to regret we'll find the original regret #our nostalgia for a time when humans weren't yet human

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felassan · 3 months

Text

"also, on the broadest line around the edge, you can see those symbols again. I’m thinking now that these 6 symbols represent the 6 factions we can choose from for Rook to belong to."

not only that, but the factions of 6 out of our 7 companions, Harding/the Inquisition aside. from some of the things they've said lately (tho at the moment I can't remember specifically where), it sounds like we will encounter each faction in the game too and that they each play a role in the story. in the center is the Veilguard logo itself; it's like representatives from these 6 factions came together to form Voltron The Veilguard. :> about the symbols btw:

The Warden symbol is closer style-wise to this new seemingly updated or northern Warden[?] symbol than it is to previous game/southern Warden[?] symbology (two). shape of the wing, stylization etc. it being 'half' like that gives it the impression of a shield/heraldic beasts.

The Veil Jumper symbol looks to be a halla. it makes me nostalgic for Clan Sabrae heraldry :') makes sense for a faction based in Arlathan and interested in ancient elvhen ruins.

The Shadow Dragons (Tevene faction) have a snake. dragons are all around in Tevinter imagery, a country where they are a symbol of divine power. Another kind of 'worm'/wyrm also kicks around in Tevinter iconography; snakes. in the Imperium heraldry, a serpentine dragon faces off against a snake (opposition..). (side ramble - As a group the Shadow Dragons are a resistance group, they oppose slavery, corrupt rulers and the worst aspects of Tevinter society. Their name makes them seem like 'a different kind of dragon' - an alternative way for the 'dragon' Tevinter is to be, a different future it could have. a different kind of dragon than the dominant ruling one, but one that is currently still overshadowed. it also carries the implication of them working in the shadows and carrying out operations under the radar - this is contrast to the Lucerni, a faction in the Magisterium whose goal is to redeem and restore Tevinter. They're more like a political party, they operate more in public. "lucerna" is Latin for lantern. light, and shadow. Maybe the Shadow Dragons are basically the stealthy/secret operational arm of the Lucerni? like a left and right hand. end side ramble) Snakes crop up in Neve's design (her leg, her hat). I keep thinking about the snake in the Imperium heraldry. with their symbol, it's like the Shadow Dragons are saying they're fighting for a Tevinter.. without the 'dragon' part. in which.. the dragon is a metaphor for the bad stuff? corruption etc? Snakes also carry the symbolism of stealth and slyness, which again fits with the 'shadow' stuff. Would a dragon be able to see a lowly snake coming...? probably not :> I also can't help but think of the imagery of snakes that's to do with healing and medicine. like they wanna de-corrupt Tevinter, heal it of its rot. ALSO. the other thing thing is The Viper from Minrathous Shadows. well, look at that. The Shadow Dragons' symbol is a snake. "We are the Tevinter you forgot". And what do they want? "Everything". maybe The Viper is the founder of the Shadow Dragons? the story mentions they have a contact, a lady who is lightning-smart (Neve?). in the accompanying art-piece, the dealer's silhouette and other aspects of their design are snake-like, recalling Neve and what seems to be 'Shadow Dragon Rook's clothes.

The Lords of Fortune have a cephalopod. (it reminds me of House Greyjoy). makes sense for a faction with ships, dominion over the coasts of Rivain, a pirate-y aesthetic and originating from a nation almost entirely surrounded by sea. maybe this explains the cephalopod that was portrayed 'on' Rivain in the trailer from a few months ago? like maybe it was supposed to represent the Lords of Fortune, their presence in Rivain, and their storyline.

The Mourn Watcher one is just so cool. it's at once both a humanoid skull (you can see the two eyes and the teeth), recalling the symbol for the broader Mortalitasi itself, and a beetle. it makes me think of stuff like scarab beetles and deathwatch beetles, both of which have lots of cool symbolism/lore and cultural meanings irl on stuff like life and death, the cycle, decomposition etc. beetles are also culturally important in Nevarra, where they are prized. lots of households keep them in cages for good luck, and encrusted beetle wings are part of Nevarran decor.

The Crow one is obviously like looking down at a corvid in flight. its head is the top triangular part, but this shape is also known to be worn by Crows as a mask/disguise, and from that perspective the pointy part at the bottom gives the wearer a beaked appearance, masquerade-ball style. the Crows are always watching :>

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost

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alexxncl · 3 months

Text

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 41 SPOILERS‼️

WE'RE HOME BITCHES

i missed my boys but i also feel bad for the nb!timeline boys bc they'll never see us again :( i miss them

HSHGDHDGD they're so stupid 😭 and ik they knew it was mammon's handwriting bc there's no way they didn't

:((((( i think i mentioned this in my lesson 40 breakdown but this is literally a physical manifestation of the login screen dialogue:

"my love for you transcends time"

if i was mc i'd be BAWLING y'all don't understand

this bg gives me war flashbacks to lesson 76 🫠 sad times man

PLEASE where did this come from 😭 everyone was all nostalgic and crying and shit and then he comes and pulls this outta his ass

NOT HE CALLED MAMMON A BROKE ASS BITCH (we been knew)

but on another note, how does he know the wallet is light if it's levitating ??? like does he feel the heaviness bc he's making it float or is he just bullshitting to piss mammon off 😭

giggling, kicking my feet, i missed her 🫶🏽 my wife, the loml

yk this would be a great time to have our affinity with her go up 😐 COUGH COUGH 😐 why isnt she dateable yet

isn't he canonically really good at math ??? like aside from just counting money

even tho it definitely comes from his greed

they're always downplaying his good qualities 🫠 hate it here /j

also side note, him getting assigned geography is a SET UP like 😭 we all know this man can't focus for the life of him. at LEAST give him math so he'd have a chance 💀

mc and mammon are ESPECIALLY cooked bc dia and barb decided to be tryhards and join every part of the competition

mc better than me bc i'd fight a bitch if he just up and left me after all the stuff that happened in the other timeline 😭 fym you're in the human world while i'm down here struggling

where did all of his development go ???? the whole season 3 arc where luke, mammon, and mc were on a train (?) together and luke learned to let go of his biases just got erased ig

Y'ALL WHAT IF HE BECOMES A DEMON

or what if it's michael messing with him even though he's fallen ??? the teaser has me paranoid idk

ANYWAYS overall 10/10 comeback lesson (i'm biased and i missed my boys 🫶🏽)

(i feel like the bonus story of the normal lesson needed its own post bc...😭)

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f1bordeaux · 1 year

Note

An Verstappen one with “Did you ever really care about me?” and “Please stay.” Thank you

If You Cared (Part 1) | mv1

It's been years since you've indulged in a vacation. What better time is there than summer? Your family, the beach house in Italy-it seems perfect. But, for things to be just like good old times, your family needs to invite his. So of course you are having mixed feelings as the boy who broke your heart re-enters your life like nothing happened. Warnings: None Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader Word count: 2.1k Poetry style | Story style A/n: Hello! This story came to me as soon as I saw this request. I got so many ideas and I'm actually super excited to keep writing this. There will be more parts to follow, so keep a look out. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy! Part One|Part Two|Part Three|Part Four|Part Five

You always longed for the familiarity of summer.

It was by far your favorite season. Something about the warmth, the life, the atmosphere, the memories-something about it all brought you comfort. You were head over heels in love with summer. Or perhaps it was just more exciting this year knowing that you would go on a real vacation for the first time in a long while. “Let’s visit the beach house this year,” your mom had suggested. “Sure there is probably some dust in the corners, but it’s nothing we can't sweep off.”

When thinking of summer memories, the beach house in Elba, Italy, was the primary setting for all of them. From the time you were born until the time you moved out, your family would spend a handful of weeks there, drinking up the sun and inviting friends to visit. You learnt to swim in the pool behind the summer house. You learnt to cook in the kitchen of the summer house. You had your first kiss in the living room of the summer house. Right, that. Something you preferred not to think or talk about.

“Mom!” you wrapped her in a hug the second you could. After moving away from home to pursue work, you rarely saw her in person. You rarely had time to cook yourself dinner let alone come home. It would be nice to get away for a month-just you, your mom, your dad, your brother and sister and the Italian shores of Elba.

“How was your flight, my baby?” She asked, pulling your backpack from off your shoulders.

“Which one? The one from New York to Florence or the one from Florence to Elba?” As a child you always made a fuss about how secluded Elba was. It’s a small, mountainous island off the west coast. A small airport, no larger than the biggest grocery store in town, was all they had to offer. They didn’t take commercial flights from New York. Nope, you had to get on a small, ten person airplane with five other people and fly over that way. It was nostalgic, truly.

Your mom rolled her eyes. “Still dramatic as ever.”

You shrugged, a smile stamped on your face. “What can I say?”

“Let's go, your dad is at home making dinner. It should be ready when we arrive.”

Your heart felt so full, so satisfied. You felt like a child again, like a little girl viewing the world from innocent eyes. Your mom was carrying your backpack, your dad was making dinner. You wondered if they’d offer to tuck you in at night. This is what you needed the most, and you didn’t even realize it until you were in the passenger seat of your mom’s rental car, watching the coast of the island roll by in the dimming sun. New York was busy. It was loud and dirty. Elba was quiet. It was beautiful and clean.

This summer, you told yourself. I’m not going to have a single worry, not a single care in the world.

“The Verstappen’s are coming by next week.”

You almost choked on your food. “What did he just say?” Dinner on the patio was already off to a ravishing start.

You don't notice it-too busy dabbing the corner of your mouth with a napkin-but your mother swatted at your brother who held a smirk on his lips. He knew it would bother you and he also knew that mom hadn’t told you yet. He loved being the bearer of bad news. He loved pestering his older sister.

“You know, Max’s family?” He pushed on. “The boy who left you for cars-”

“Luca.” Your mom cut him off. “Enough.”

Silence hung over the table like it was a light fixture. Your dad and sister said nothing and you knew it was because those two were in favor of the Verstappen’s coming to stay. Hell, your dad was probably the one to extend the invitation. You knew your sister would back him up because she loved Victoria-the younger sibling of the two Verstappen children. Your brother obviously didn’t care. He idolized Max and his racing. It seemed like your mother was the only one on your side.

“Was nobody going to tell me until Max knocked on our front door one day?” You asked, cutting at the food on your plate.

“Max probably won't even be able to make it,” your mother tries to reassure you. “The only ones who have confirmed it are Sophie and Victoria. Ooh-Victoria is bringing the babies so that should be fun-”

“Are you just trying to calm me down, mom?” Again, the silence made itself known. You spoke first, shaking your head with an upside down smile. “You know what? I don’t care. Max or not, I’m here to have a good summer. No childhood crush or-”

“Childhood boyfriend who broke your heart.” Your brother corrected you. You kicked him from under the table, exerting an ouch from him.

“No childhood drama is going to interfere.” You finished.

“She's gone crazy.” Your sister whispered to your dad. You kicked her too.

“I’m going to have a good summer. Nobody will ruin that for me.”

And in the beginning, you did have a good summer. You spent your first full day in Elba catching up on jet lag. When you finally decided to roll out of bed at two pm, you went to the beach with your sister. The two of you had a chance to catch up, sitting on the sand with a small array of fruits to eat while you spoke. The weather was perfect, the ocean was calming, and you were reminded of how much you loved your younger sister.

“What did you do for the big twenty-two?” You asked, referencing her birthday that had preceded about three weeks prior.

She shook her hand, the grapes in her palm shifting. She picked out a bruised one, adding it to a small pile of other undesirable fruits. “Went out with some friends. I had an exam due that day though, so most of it was spent in my room working on that.”

College. Something you tried your hardest to avoid. All was futile, though. After only a few weeks in New York you realized you’d need it. “Sounds fun. Were you mad you had to leave all your friends for the summer?”

“No,” She popped a grape in her mouth. “I was excited to come back to the beach house.”

“Me too.”

“Can I start a conversation without you getting mad at me, y/n?”

You sighed. “If you start by saying that, then no.”

“How are you going to react if Max really does show up on Monday?”

It was your turn to search through the handful of strawberries you had. One strawberry had a large hole. The rest looked fine, you thought. Max. Right, that's where the conversation was. Max Verstappen. Your first crush, your first kiss, your first-boyfriend? Was it ever that? Really, you didn’t know what it was and what it wasn’t. He was Max, and you were y/n. That was all the facts you knew surrounding the two of you.

“I’ll be nice. I have no reason not to be.” You finally responded.

Your sister peeled her sunglasses off her face. She looked at you amusingly through her brow. “No reason? Really?”

A shrug lifted your shoulders. “What? Max and I were never dating.”

“Sixteen-year-old you would say otherwise.”

“Sixteen year old me was delusional.” You looked at the ocean in front of you. You were just a delusional child, right? Max was your first kiss. Max was your biggest crush. Max did break your heart. It’s pretty damn hard to break someone's heart when you’re not together, no? “I don’t care about Max anymore. If he comes, he comes. If he doesn’t? Then so be it. I really don't care, Mia.”

“Alright,” She said dismissively. “I guess we’ll find out.”

The two of you wouldn’t find out for another five days. During your time-waiting for the possible arrival of Max and his mom and sister-you explored the city, you occupied the beaches, you read some books, you went out on the boat with your brother and dad. Life was calm. There were no obligations you had to fill, no tasks at hand, no work to be done. It was you, the Italian sun, the ocean and the breeze. You seriously considered moving there. Mom would let you have the beach house, right? How could she say no to the oldest?

All was good. All was calm.

“Max is here, y/n!” Luca swung open the patio door, yelling at you with a smirk. You were lying on a lounge chair next to your sister-the both of you only wearing swimsuits as you tried to tan. “He’s a fine specimen.”

You picked up your hat from the ground and threw it at your teenage brother. “Fuck off, Luca.”

“I’m serious! Max, Victoria and Sophie are here.”

You looked over at your sister. “Go inspect.” You instructed her.

She groaned, standing up from her chair and wandering inside, not before slapping Luca on the back of the head, however. The two of them shut the door, a waft of cold air swiping across your body before disappearing. There was soft music playing from a speaker near the pool. If a car pulled up, you wouldn’t have been able to hear it. Maybe they were here, but was Max seriously with them? Did you want him here? Would it actually be easier without him here or did you want some fun this summer? Did drama entertain you? Maybe you just wanted something nice to look at while you were here.

The back door slid open. You were lying face down, the sun warming your back. You didn’t bother looking up, assuming it was Mia coming to deliver the news to you. It would be better if she didn’t see your face while telling you. Maybe you would be disappointed at the answer-whatever it may be. “Well? Is he here?” You asked, voice muffled by the lounge chair.

“Is this your hat?”

You looked up so quickly that you pulled a muscle in your neck. “Fuck.” You whispered to yourself, rubbing your fingers over the pain. Did you curse to yourself because Max was standing right infront of you, your ball cap balancing off his index finger, or because of the pain? Both, you decided. It was for both reasons.

“I’ll leave it,” He set it on the table next to you. “Here.”

“Thanks.” You readjusted yourself, sitting up on the edge of the chair. He definitely got a much better view of you than he was hoping for. You were older now, almost by ten years. Sixteen year old you and twenty five year old you looked a lot different. He figured that out pretty quick.

“Good to see you, y/n.” He smiled before turning on his heel to go back inside. His back was broad, his shoulders looked stiff. He had some stubble, but it suited him. He looked-good? No. Stop thinking like that. He probably had a girlfriend or something. He was a rich, famous, Formula One driver. No way he was single walking around looking like that.

“Right.” Nobody was around to hear you say it. So, nobody was around to hear you follow it up with, “What the fuck.”

Hesitantly, you picked up your ball cap, slipping your ponytail through the back. You walked inside, scanning the room before making any more steps forward. Mia and Victoria were in the living room. Sure enough, Victoria had brought her two children and husband. Mia was emitting plenty of ‘aww’s’ and ‘that is so cute’s’. Max was bringing luggage in through the front door. Great, they're planning on staying. Your brother shot you a smirk from where he sat at the kitchen bar. Told ya’ so.

“Max, how’d you manage time off from F1?” Your mother asked.

“It’s summer break,” He said matter-of-factly. “I don’t race again until late August.”

“So you’ll be here for the three weeks you mother and sister will be?”

Please say no, please say no, please say- “I plan to, yes.”

The sliding door snaps behind you as you let go of it. Everyone turns to look at your bikini clad figure. Victoria exchanges a concerning glance with your sister. Victoria’s husband looks at her, confused as to why there is such a thick tension in the air.

“Y/n, go shower and get dressed, we’re all going to dinner in a bit.” Your mother said, her lips pressing into a thin smile.

“Right.” You said, weaving past all the bodies. “I’ll go do that.”

Oh what a summer this was playing out to be.

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