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embrassemoi · 3 years

Text

when ur sober ☽ R.L

MARAUDERS MODERN TEXTING AU:

Remus felt his heart pound in his chest and he wondered briefly if he was going to faint. Those words he’d been desperate to hear finally happened. But she was drunk. The ringing in his ears intensified and in a panic, he hung up the phone; shakily texting back: call me when ur sober.

NAVIGATION ☽ MASTERLIST ☽ AO3

PAIRINGS: Remus Lupin x F!Reader ft. Jily, Dorlene

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

CONTENT: Fluff, swearing, sexual jokes, blink and you’ll miss the angst, love confessions, brief mention of food, cringe lol

NOTES: I'm a firm believer that Remus would've loved 'the real slim shady.’ Also, lowkey badly written but I’m too lazy to go back and rewrite

USERNAME GUIDE:

Remus — my moony Sirius — padfoot Peter — peeps James — evan’s bitch Lily — petals Marlene — marling Dorcas — meadowes in meadows Y/N — me (for her POVs (for Remus it’s: sunshine)) Me — refers to the owner of the cell who’s texting

EDIT: there's something wrong with the formatting but Tumblr keeps glitching out so I can't fix it. I apologize

[Besties]

7:45 PM

petals: are we still going out tonight?

padfoot: ofc. don’t back out now

petals: i’m not

my moony: can’t. i got an upcoming exam

my moony: gotta study

padfoot: BUT REMUSSSSSSS!

evan’s bitch: gonna be late. need to finish something up at work but i’m driving everyone home. pretty sure pete can’t either

peeps: made plans with my s/o. another time?

padfoot: what happened to the MARAUDERS???

(padfoot removed peeps from Besties)

petals: ...

petals: damn. didn’t give him a chance

my moony: ruthless.

my moony: wait

my moony: sirius. don’t you fucking dare

(padfoot removed my moony from Besties)

(padfoot changed the group name from Besties to bad bitches ONLY)

━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━

[my moony]

7:50 PM

my moony: he’s insufferable

my moony: can you add me back

me: lol

me: no

my moony: 0:

━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━

[bad bitches ONLY]

7:51 PM

me: GET THEM SNUFFLES

marlings: LMFAOOO NO

marlings: IM FUCKING CRYINGG

evan’s bitch: WAIT

evan’s bitch: LET ME MAKE MY CASE

evan’s bitch: i’m the driver! u can’t kick me unless u want to walk home

me: valid point

meadowes in meadows: i agree

petals: still remove him

evan’s bitch: >:(

padfoot: kinda wanna add remus back

padfoot: he’s going to beat the shit out of me

petals: dramatic much

me: tough luck buddy

evan’s bitch: rip. getaway driver?

meadowes in meadows: wait where r we going??

marling: pub?

padfoot: pub

me: we should go to the one in diagon alley

padfoot: !!!

padfoot: good idea! It’s close

━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━

[padfoot]

8:04 PM

padfoot: babes

padfoot: darling

padfoot: send me a pic of ur outfit for tonight

padfoot: wanna match

me: [sent image]

padfoot: OMFG UR GOING TO LOOK HOT

padfoot: AS FUCK

me: hot as fuck together*

padfoot: is ur bf coming?

me: he’s not my bf

padfoot: moony is literally in love with u. idk why ur not jumping each others' bones yet

me: u don’t know that

me: he’s just friendly

padfoot: …

me: shut the fuck up

me: ANYWAYYYY

━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━

[bad bitches ONLY]

8:09 PM

petals: does 9 sound good?

marling: peffffecttttt

me: yup yup

evan’s bitch: i’m off work around 9 30. I’ll meet you guys there

meadowes in meadows: thanks mama james

meadowes in meadows: everyone say thank you to james

me: thxs bambi

petals: eh. thanks

evan’s bitch: whatever you want my beautiful flower

marling: thankkkk youuu

padfoot: 2/4 marauders bonding time!

━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━

[petals]

8:13 PM

petals: did you want to spend the night at my place?

petals: james is offering and it’s been so long

me: sure. of course!!!

me: are my clothes still there?

petals: washed and folded

me: k. def then

Locking her home screen, she tossed her phone to the side, getting up to walk over to Remus in their shared apartment. She made her way soundlessly as he tirelessly worked away at his study notes.

“Hey.” She rubbed a supportive hand up and down his back. “Do you need anything?”

He sighed, finally putting down his pencil to look up at her.

Green eyes had never been so alluring.

“Fuckin’ tired,” he says, pulling off his glasses. “A hug would be nice though..?”

She smiles, gladly wrapping her arms around Remus, his head dropping into the crook of her neck. Her fingers dance with the honey auburn curls on the nape of his neck while his hands wrap around her waist; little ghosts of touch and brushes of fingers. Even his slightest touch flooded her veins with extremities, as she’d just been touched with livewire.

His presence cast a protective bubble over her, safe from the distress that life often brings. With him, she felt a strength and stability she didn’t know she was lacking. And being with him, she felt so loved, despite all her acknowledged imperfections. The happiness of being understood and cared for despite the voluminous flaws was comforting.

Loving Remus is calm. Joyful. Peaceful and sturdy.

Her heart clenched, wondering if he felt the same.

She was the one that pulled away. “I wish you could come tonight.”

“Mmhm. Me too.”

“If you want, I can stay to help out.”

But Remus was unrelenting as he shook his head. “Have fun, you deserve it.”

“And not my little Moony?” She jokes.

“Little Moony?” His lip quirks up, a small blush settling on his face. And every time he laughs, it is even more dazzling than the last. A victory is written in every bone at the sound.

And she saves it to auditory memory.

“If you don’t need anything else, I’m gonna get ready.”

He simply nodded his head, sinking into his chair to return to studying.

“I’m staying at Lily’s tonight!” She calls out, only to have Remus shout back in acknowledgment.

In record time, she managed to get in the shower, dry, slip on a beautiful dress and put on her makeup. She shoved her phone into her bag, heels in one hand while heading to the living room, surprised to find Remus not studying, but in the kitchen.

He was dancing a little, shuffling around as the soft playing of music encircled them.

“What are you making?” She questions. Remus’ head snaps up. And the way he looks at her, gaze scorching her skin, maybe she thinks, maybe he does feel something too.

He forcibly coughs, gaze lingering on her a beat before forcing himself to stare at the ground. “Sauce — y’know James’ spaghetti recipe. Ugh — you look okay.”

“Okay?” She mused, stalking up beside him, staring at the fresh oregano he put into the tomato sauce. “Just okay?”

He squirms a little in his spot. “You’re humble, aren’t you?”

She laughs and Remus relaxes.

“Be my taste tester?” Gesturing to the food in front.

Brow raised, she agrees as he brings the wooden spoon to her lips. Her eyes never leaving his.

“Mmhm.” The sauce is sublime, so much so that she has to close her eyes to take in the richness of flavour. When she opens them again, Remus is staring down at her lips, eyes flashing a brilliant gold in the midst of his green hues. “That’s good.”

He pulls the spoon away,

And then a moment later, his brows raise. “Oh, you got a bit on your mouth just —”

The pad of his thumb brushes softly against her lower lip, wiping away the excess tomato sauce before he rips back his hand. Surprise written on his face and no doubt, hers too.

There was always that air of flirtatiousness, both always pushing boundaries.

“Okay!” She exclaims, nearly jumping back while he pulls away, coughing. “I better head out.”

“Y-yeah. Right!” Remus adds too quickly, forcing his head down to start cutting up vegetables speedily. “Um — text me when you get there and when you leave.”

“Sure! Bye!”

She stumbles out, feeling her skin ablaze as she shoves on her shoes, practically sprinting out the door.

What the fuck was that?

The cool air did nothing to chill the burning of her skin as October wore on. The crunching of freshly fallen leaves were crushed under each step. Only the buzzing of her phone seemed to snap her out of her distant state.

[marling]

9:21 PM

marling: she’s so beautiful

marling: i’m gonna cryyyy

marling: holy christ almighty i’m so lucky

marling: dorcas looks so pretty

━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━

[padfoot]

9:32 PM

padfoot: this is it. I’m done

padfoot: i was flirting with this really hot guy and i accidentally spilt my drink on him

Padfoot: where r u???????

She slid open the notification.

me: running late

me: are you already drunk?

padfoot: ...mildy…

padfoot: i just got really nervous okay he’s hot

me: lmfao whore

padfoot: … ok u got me there

padfoot: at least i don’t want to suck my best friends dick

me: fuck all the way off you right dickhead

me: shit. nvm i’m a hypocrite

padfoot: ?????????? spill

me: omg i fucking hate myself

padfoot: TELL ME

me: remus just fUCKING TOUCHED MY LIPS

padfoot: WAHT?????

padfoot: WHATTTTTTT???!?!?!?!?!?!

padfoot: HE KISSED YOU??????

padfoot: bestie what the UFFCk

But then her phone lights up, receiving an incoming call from Sirius.

“What the fuck happened?!” Sirius practically roars from the other end of the receiver.

“I was trying his pasta sauce and —”

“Hah, are you sure it was pasta sauce?”

“Shut up! Anyway, some must have been left on my mouth and he wiped it off with his fingers!”

There was a high, muffled screaming from the other end of the phone and she chuckled, her heels clicking down on the pavement as she speedily walked to Diagon Alley.

“Oh my god! It’s happening! It's been years and it’s finally happening!”

But then there was a familiar ache that returned. “He probably didn’t realize what he was doing.”

There was a long pause on Sirius’ end, the only thing she could make out was the loud music and harsh whispering.

“You dumb bitch and I mean that with love”

That wasn’t Sirius.

“Excuse me?!”

Marlene sighs, and it’s evident she’s already drunk by the slight slur of her words. “How oblivious do you two mother fuckers have to be? I swear you guys could take a shower together, naked — you two could literally fuck and still say, but we’re just friends.’ Bullshit. Open your eyes!”

“Okay Marls. I’m going to hang up now —”

“Stop! You need to listen to me!

“— I’ll see you there.”

With the swipe of her thumb, the call ended and she felt like she could finally breathe.

It was all too confusing.

When she entered the pub, Sirius let out a low whistle, snapping his fingers a few times to gain her attention. She sent a quick text to Remus before shutting her phone off.

“There’s my fucking bestie!” He yells as she stalks up to the group.

James raises his hands. “What am I then?”

Sirius wraps an arm around her. “Moony doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

“How much did he drink?” She asks, a bit worried as she has to pull Sirius off from getting on the table.

“Not sure,” James sighs into his seat, keeping a close eye on Lily, Marlene and Dorcas.

Before she could respond, Sirius pulled her away to the dance floor and the familiar buzz settled its way into her heart. Her main goal: get fucking plastered and forget about… him.

━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━

The only sound that filled the room was the flip of pages every few seconds.

Remus combed a hand through his hair. He’d been going over his review notes for hours now. All the dates, numbers and facts weren’t sticking as he leaned back against his chair, kicking his feet up on the desk as he listened to the crickets and cars zipping by.

He couldn't stop thinking about her.

Reaching over, he turned off the small night light shining on his table. With a small sigh, he kicked off his feet, opening the table drawer, pulling out a lighter and a package of cigarettes. Making it to the balcony and shutting the glass door behind him.

Remus leaned over the railing of their balcony, stretching his shoulders while a cigarette was pinched between his indeed and pointer finger. With a flick of his lighter, he brought it to his lips. The smell of a pungent herb smell floated around as he pulled back, billows of smoke travelling through the light breeze.

He was a fucking idiot. Through and through.

Remus groaned out in embarrassment, hand wanding to pockets and pulled out his phone. The light illuminated his face in the dim glowing city lights.

He typed in his password, tapping on the messaging icon; sliding straight to her number. But he hesitated.

[sunshine]

12:57 PM

me: hello!

No, that looks too exciting. Deleting.

me: what's up?

No, that was stupid. He already knew ‘what was up.’ Deleting.

me: hey

That was good. Sent.

me: wanted to check in. u ok?

Sent.

Not even a few seconds later, the phone buzzed, an incoming call coming from his sunshine.

Correction, not his.

He picked up, placing the phone to his ear. The music must have been so loud because Remus could hear the blaring nightclub music, having to pull the phone away from his ear.

May I have your attention, please? Will the real Slim Shady please stand up?

“Remusss,” she slurred into the phone and he couldn’t help but feel his face heat and heart-clenching.

She was too cute.

“They’re playing your song!”

He gave a deep chuckle, unable to stop smiling as his weight shifted, already feeling the stress leave his body.

She was still his friend above all else. That triumphed over any kind of awkwardness.

“I can hear. Are you okay?”

“Mmhm!” Her voice was high and giggly and Remus was entranced by it. “I wish you were here to dance with me.”

And he wished he was too.

“Go have fun,” he said reluctantly. “Text me when you get to Lily’s place.”

“No! No, no, no! Don’t hang up!” She chirped bubbly. “I’ll just dance while calling you. Same thing, right?”

“Love, it’s okay. I don’t want to ruin your —“

“Don’t go! Please?”

Remus didn’t have the heart to say no, he never did when it came to her so he simply said, “Of course.”

He could hear her little happy squeal.

“Okay it’s coming up — I’m Slim Shady, yes, I’m the real Shady! All you other Slim Shadys are just imitating —“

Remus felt his eyes brimming with tears of mirth, a smile breaking into a wide grin at her drunken rapping and breaths coming out short and rushed. He subbed the cigarette, that euphoric feeling he got with her never could compare to nicotine.

She was a drug. Magical ecstasy.

“Well, I do, so fuck him and fuck you too! You think I give a damn about a Grammy?”

He didn’t even have to see her to know she was glowing. But really, Remus couldn’t think of a time where she was anything but beautiful.

Everything in his body yearned for her, reaching out for her constantly. His body ached, skin burned at her touch.

He wanted to hold her hands. Wanted her to play with his hair. Wanted to kiss her, hold her, call her his.

Love came to Remus slowly, but once he realized it, it hit him all at once.

Love for Remus is good and bad. Love is kissing each other softly in the mornings, love is asking if they need anything from the store. Love is also fighting but apologizing with sweet nothing and kisses. Crying but having a shoulder to cry on. Love is fighting for the other person, no matter how hard it gets. It's those stupid fucking butterflies that erupted in the base of your stomach that travel up and made you want to explode into pure light.

Love is checking your phone to see if they texted you, and then doing the stupid happy dance when you see a notification from them.

Sharing an umbrella with them in the rain — but them getting the most coverage and your arm drenched in water.

Love was small and big. And to him, she is the very definition of what makes love, love.

“Aw! It’s over!” She whined. “I’m getting another drink.”

“Hold on!” He quipped. “Why don’t you take a second? Breathe some fresh air in?”

She babbled about him being a party crasher, but he could hear the smirk in her voice.

Several voices flittered in and out before she shouted out to James and Sirius that she would be outside. Then it became significantly quieter, only the clicking of her heels and the soft buzzing from cars and her voice could be heard.

“After your exams, we have to celebrate.”

He shifted again. "Sure thing."

“Get you a couple of party hats.”

“Remember the last time we did that?” Remus continued to speak for a while, retelling the sudden memory until realizing that she had been peculiarly silent throughout his story.

“Am I that boring?” He teased, although it’s layered in worry and tension. There was another long pause. “Sorry, I should shut up —”

But swiftly interrupted with a soft whispered but still firm phrase enough that he barely registered it.

“I love you, Remus.”

Even then, the logical part of Remus‘ brain hadn’t quite caught up to speed yet and her confession was muddled with confusion and pure shook for minutes. It was quiet, long and he could hear her soft breathing.

He felt his heart pound in his chest and he wondered briefly if he was going to faint. Those words he’d been desperate to hear finally happened. His heart exploded, body buzzing with a warmth he’d never known before and —

And she was very obviously drunk.

The ringing in his ears intensified and in a panic, he hung up the phone; shakily texting back.

[sunshine]

1:12 AM

me: call me when ur sober

me: and then you can tell me how you really feel

He opened the door as a trembling blossom in his heart sent a sharp, warm stab of yearning through him.

The phone rang and he could see her user ID. But he didn’t pick up. If anything that made Remus panic more.

━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━

When he gets a call from James around two in the morning, Remus was still wide awake, mulling over her words.

“James?”

“Open your door. Your girlfriend wouldn’t stop talking about wanting to spend the night with you instead.”

“She’s not my —”

“Shut it. Come out and help me.”

Remus hops out of bed, slipping on his shoes and grabbing the keys before dashing out the door.

James is laughing at whatever she said before she turns to him, lighting up brightly.

“Moony!”

He jogs, taking an arm and wrapping it around her waist to pull her flush against his chest. She grabs onto him like a koala bear as he prickles like a cat.

“You’re very attractive,” she whispers into his ear, lips brushing against his skin that Remus almost jerks up in shock. “Good for you.”

James doesn’t help as he begins to laugh, clutching his stomach.

“H-how much did she drink?” His usual deep voice jumps octaves high. A thrilling sensation shoots through him.

James shook his head, wiping the tears from his face. “A fucking lot. I’ve never seen her throw that many back. Make sure she drinks a lot of water.”

James leaves, getting into his car along with a loud Marlene and Sirius, chanting almost ritualistically to a Taylor Swift song while Lily looked like she was on the verge of tears, gripping James’ arm while shoving a phone in front of his face; a picture of a dozen cats reflected off his glasses.

“Alright,” Remus says, mostly to himself. “Let's get you inside.”

He immediately swung open the door, ushering her to lay down on the couch.

A thin ray of moonlight silvered between them as he bent down, kneeling at the couch. He rubbed a hand over her arm, observing. Her makeup was smudged, hair a mess, clothes rumpled, but even then as he held her, fingers grazing the smooth skin of her arm, he was floored by how pretty she was.

“Alright, pretty girl,” he murmurs, “We got to get you cleaned up okay?”

“No,” is all that she manages to get out.

Remus sighs, walking into the bathroom and flicks on the lights, searches through the mirror door for makeup wipes before returning to her side.

He gently wipes it away, dragging the wipe softly against her kin while he watches the fatigue settle deep into her bones.

Remus ran around the apartment, grabbing a couple of blankets and pillows as she but she admittedly refuses to sleep in her bed.

Luckily, she does accept the multiple glasses of water and ultimately, she agrees to brush her teeth.

“Time for you to go to sleep, okay?”

But as he turned to leave, exhaustion written in every scar of his face, he felt a tug on the hem of his shirt.

“Please stay with me.”

Her voice was soft, wavering and he was conflicted.

“Please?”

He couldn’t say no.

He shuffled beside her, and she laid her head on his chest, legs wrapped around him.

“Goodnight, my Moony.” And she pressed a soft kiss to the scar on his nose, falling asleep within seconds.

Remus felt a terrible jolt of his heart. The steady rise and cal of her chest were calming, and he closed his eyes, basking in their warmth while a whisper of a smile was engraved in his face.

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, bidding goodnight as he slipped into a comforting sleep.

Was this what heaven felt like?

━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━

The next morning, when Remus woke up, the first thing he noticed was the body pressed against him. Soft morning rays cascading over them gently and he knew almost instantly that she was awake.

And she knows the moment he wakes too.

“Remus?”

He wonders if she remembered last night.

“Yes?” He breathes out shakily.

Is this where their friendship ends?

“I’m sober now.” she shifts her head to peer up at him through batted eyelashes.

She definitely remembers.

She looks more angelic than usual. A ball of warmth and pure glow.

“Ask me again,” she shifted her body to look at him. “Ask me that question from last night.”

A deep inhale. A moment passes.

“Tell me how you really feel.”

“I love you.”

Then another moment passes as he takes a moment to process her words for the second time. Then, he laughs; radiant with relief. Whispers of electricity through his skin.

His hand curled to the shape of her face, thumb brushing her cheek, all the distress and rejection leaving his body instantly.

She’s waiting for a verbal answer.

And he gives it.

“I’m yours. Always have been.”

She beamed and Remus felt his heart expand and thump wildly. She purchased a hand on his chest, bunching the fabric in her hand.

Voices breathy and their faces are barely centimetres away.

And finally, their lips meet.

Her lips were soft and warm, impossibly pillowy against his own. The soft tickling of their breaths was soothing and her lips were slightly parted, allowing his tongue to slip inside. She fit perfectly against him, and he could feel the rapid thuds of their combined heartbeats.

A tingling feeling spread across his body, heart igniting in glowing sparks. Her touch was intoxicating, the scent of her perfume was dizzying, she was so warm and it consumed him.

They only pulled back for a gasp of air, and his eyes fluttered open.

She was already looking at him, eyes alight.

And it washed over him, now realizing that he saw his entire future there, wrapped in his arms with a smile so sweet, so radiant.

Whatever it was, fate or destiny or just by sheer luck, Remus was thankful that his path led to her.

984 notes · View notes

theyarebothgunshot · 3 years

Note

ROSE I AM FREAKING OUT HAVE YOU SEEN THE PREQUEL STUFF???? WHAT IS GOING ON, my god... I was literally about to go to sleep, decided to check Tumblr one last time and see this.... what WHAT!! WHATTTT!!!!!! I don't even know if this is good bad or what but just JENSEN IS PRODUCING A SUPERNATURAL PREQUEL AND DEAN'S GONNA BE THE NARRATOR OR Sth LIKE???? -🐸

YEAH i am normal about this <3 (jk i am also freaking out) welcome to: people screaming to me in my inbox about prequelgate ft. j/2 fallout theory. let's goooo!

Another copypasta and suddenly chaos machine is full on gay I love this prophecy

you know whats funny i just checked the j/2 tag and i feel like for the first time in a long time they are starting to realise that maybe THEY should be the ones who are "gutted" *sips tea*

ROSE HOLY SHIT ROOOOOOOOSE ITS HAPPENING HOLY SHIIIIIT

YEAH

Nevermind just read prequel and well good luck I guess but just you know kind of bleh who wants to watch John Winchester well let’s have hope anyways

i know a lot of people are bummed out but i am kind of very excited actually?? i trust robbie and even though yeah j*hn winchester turned into a nasty abusive bastard, it can be interesting to explore how it all started (imo). it's just the first of many stories they can tell.

I can only accept this circus if it’s Dean telling the stories to his and Cas’ kids and then we have a revival to show that the whole finale was in fact the end Chuck wanted there Jensen I fixed it

i would not say no to this

heyloo bee anon here

um- wtf is happening?

jackles prequel series?? why? i want to be excited about this but sheesh im scared

because supernatural is never dead <3

okay, but, jensen... john winchester ≠ jdm, you don’t have to go /that/ hard for him 🙃

true true... though i am waiting for jdm to comment on this, please i need it

WAIT A SECOND J2 FALLOUT THEORY TRUE??

LMAO HELL YEAH BESTIE

Rose you really picked the worst time to sleep for real

bestie it was literally 4 in the morning, what do you expect from me sdfjsfhsf

I can’t literally can’t we were all right LMAO j2 fallout theory is real and cockles (Misha supporting Jensen) is [gunshots] I’m just laughing cause what the hell is this timeline we’re living LMAOOOOOOOOOO

we would always end up here <3

Do we have the copypaste anons to thank for JP basically confirming the J2 fallout? lol 🦚

yes, everybody say 'thanks annoying idiots!'

ROSE, WAKE UP, COME HERE,

THERE'S A LOT GOING ON FFS

YEAH I KNOW BUT I NEEDED SLEEP

Anticipating that there's going to be a lot of yelling about the prequel on here: I am cackling, but also, I mean, the first time Dean got a look into his parent's past, Cas was the catalyst: literally entered Dean's mind and catapulted him to the 70s. So idk, it's not completely unreasonable to expect some Cas cameos, maybe setting up a parallel timeline since Dean is narrating. What I'm saying is, this is Jackles, he's getting JDM and Misha in on this lmao -Honeymoon Anon

you were right lmfaooo also i fully agree. misha's tweet further cemented that thought for me. he knew about this prequel and i dont think he is cas-baiting us, i think he'll be involved. i'd also be obsessed to see jensen and jdm act together again (though idk who jdm could play seeing as it's a prequel and he is way too old to play young j*hn)

longlivethetribbles heeft gevraagd:

Heyyyyyy bestie, are you SEEING the absolute madness going on right now holy shit

well a little late but I SURE AM BESTIE

bestie wake up pls s16 finale just dropped.

- 🍯

and WHAT a great one it was

I love coming home from work to see all of the chaos unfolding on Tumblr and Twitter. I'm absolutely buzzing right now. I'll probably still be here by the time you wake up and check tumblr 😂 - 🐢

lmaooo and were you still awake?? did you see my freak out??

Oooh bestie wake the fuck up, I know you’re gonna be excited for this one jsnsjsj

god i had SUCH a morning like. it's 12:00 now and all i did since i woke up is check tumblr rip

short summary: jen and dee gain the rights, they post on ig/twitter about a prequel ft john and mary that no one asked for, the fandom loses its everloving shit as usual, they trend on twitter thanks to the beloved twt intern who missed us, misha qt’s jen about cas possibly benefiting from being in the prequel, then j*red qt’s jensen abt how his feelings got hurt by him not being told about a prequel his character as no involvement in & he initially throws a tantrum, and the rest is history - 🦋 anon (ps: i hope this helps a little, i’ve been scattered brained trying to keep up with it all night lmao so pls let me know if i missed anything, bug crew !!)

thank you so much darling i figured it out eventually but this is a helpful summary!!!

I hope you enjoyed waking up to all of this XD -🐢

i sure did!!! also that answers my question about you being awake lmao

I WILL NEVER EVER EVER FORGIVE MYSELF FOR SLEEPING THROUGH ALL OF THIS DRAMA AND NOT EXPERIENCING IT IN PERSON I DIDN'T NEED THIS SLEEP - tea anon

well the party was still going strong this morning so im not TOO "gutted" see what i did there lmaooo

Now that you are caught up with the news... So idk if you remember this but...didn't jarpad tell jackles he was up for a reboot in an online panel? And jackles answered that this was news to him??

-🍯

yeah i think you are right but he was clearly joking and didnt expect jackles to actually be working on something already

J2 anon spare more of those anons let's finish this - tea anon

please, we're having a ball in this bitch

I saw a post on tumblr where someone said now that Kripke gave J&D the rights, maybe they’re starting with a prequel just to end on a reboot in years time and honestly ? I wanna believe that so badly. This is tinhatty but what if this is all calculated in a way that makes it so that Jensen is slowly starting to fix everything that was wrong with spn - now that he has the rights and he’s slowly making spn his own story ?! I mean he did say in his ig post he wants to ‘fill in the rest’ - and maybe Mary and John’s story is only the beginning of spn related content from J&D to come ??? Maybe he wants to give spn the justice it deserves ?? Thoughts ??

i dont think this is tinhatty at all i think this is very possible and not that much of a reach. i could see this happening yeah for sure

want to hear something funny. I found out I had a ruptured blood vessel in my eye because I was sending my friend a video freaking out when the prequel news dropped and I noticed the corner of my eye was red af. and when I got back online jared had tweeted.

DJFHSJD ANON THE CHAOS OF IT ALL, HELP, are you okay? <3

rose.. bestie... how are you feeling about The News? nsfshsf being european is a curse </3 🐞

i feel GREAT im living for it i feel on top of the world tbh (and yeah it really is dsjfhs)

What am I waking up to I can't WHAT I rested my eyes for like 5 minutes help *hits reblog button* - anon anon

yep yep essentially djfhs

“Jensen and Misha are Co workers who barley talk”

I can’t be sure of course but I’m fairly certain that this is the copypasta that brought the j/2 fallout theory back to life. Who’s apparently ‘barely talking’ now? skansjsjsj. It’s almost prophetic, these j/2 anons have superpowers I’m telling ya.

-poker face anon

next time we get one of them we should be thanking them lmaooo

ok, but are we gonna talk about the "When Daneel and I formed Chaos Machine Productions, we knew that the first story we wanted to tell was the story of John and Mary Winchester [...]"-quote because the way this is phrased implies they formed CHAOS MACHINE Productions with the intent of telling this story (first), i haven't been in this dumpster long enough but the name just tickles me in that Misha way, isn't it so sus??? am i missing something???? i mean with this announcement they SURE lived up to that name... 🧩-anon

you are absolutely right, chaos machine SCREAMS misha and we are all here for it!!

hey hey hey. joining the clownverse, there's no way THEE cas girl danneel doesn't know just how much the fandom loves misha and cas. so 2 + 2 = misha in the spn prequel!

AGREED

So I think I finally managed to catch up on wtf happened while I was asleep and my brain melted. What a shit show to wake up to.

Anyway thoughts.

I don't hate the idea of a Mary&John sequel. I think it has the potential to be good (It has the potential to be really bad too, so I'm kind scared).

🕯️🕯️🕯️ manifesting Mary being badass and John being kinda useless🕯️🕯️🕯️

As for the Jensen and J*red thing.

I can see Jensen not telling J*red even if they are still friends, because J*red is kinda good at accidentally telling Secrets. He could have told him right before he announced it so, so that J*red didn't have to find out from twitter. He was on the show for 15 years, he is bound to get asked about it. The public twitter meltdown was really unprofessional so. Like you have Jensen's number J*red. You could have sorted that out in private like a normal person, but instead you choose to act like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Is it weird that I'm actually going to be kinda that for them if the actually had a falling out, even tho I don't like J*red all that much. They seemed to be really important to each other and while I thought before that the might have triefted apart a bit, I didn't think that the where actively fighting.

- 🐌 anon

the thing is, the polite/normal thing for jensen to do was text him before announcing it on twitter. it's weird he didn't, and that makes me believe that maybe yeah they did have a falling out. especially with the way j*red responded to it on twitter. if he had no other reason to be this upset (no prior beef or falling out) you'd think that he wouldn't be responding like this. on the other hand, the man is a mysterie to me so who the hell knows. i'm not gonna mourn about it if they did/do grow apart because j*red is just.... awful imo.

#frog anon #bee anon #peacock anon #subtlerainy #honeymoon anon #bestie mutual #honeypot anon #turtle anon #butterfly anon #tea anon #ladybug anon #anon anon #poker face anon #puzzle pieces anon #snail anon #good lord i think i got more anons about this than about anything else before lmao #good luck to anybody who actually reads this <3

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wonderstvrs · 4 years

Text

2 AM Essays | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

In which Reader stays up to finish an essay, but Bakugou steps in.

WORD COUNT: 1,375 words

WARNINGS: Explicit Swearing, Reader is Gender Neutral

You really hated being such a chronic procrastinator. You’d think that after how stressful your first year at UA was for you that you’d learn how to stop putting off your schoolwork until the last minute. But here you were at 2 AM, frantically trying to finish a five-page essay.

It didn’t help that you were exhausted from your work-study. There had been an incident during patrol that required your intervention. By the end of it, you were sore and—judging from the pounding in your head—had overused your Quirk. You should be resting—as your mentor had strictly ordered you to do—but this essay had other plans for you.

Right now, it was being a brat and refusing to cooperate. You stare at the document in front of you, eyes bleary, and threatening to droop. You’ve been writing for hours, that was at least three pages, right? You check your word count: 2 ½ pages.

You let your head fall back into the couch cushion and groan in frustration. At this point, you’re not even sure if you can even form a coherent thought, let alone write another sentence about some Pre-Quirk war.

“What the hell are you doing up, dumbass?”

You pause the curse you were sending whoever invented essays to turn your heard to the direction of the voice. Bakugou Katsuki stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, and a scowl on his face. Even in your sleep-deprived state, you couldn’t help but ogle at his arms. Thank the gods for this man’s obsession with tank-tops.

“Oh, hey, Bakugou.” You manage to tear your eyes away from his bulging biceps to greet him. “What—”

Your brain short circuits. You have no idea what you were going to say, but you don’t really care because Bakugou had bed hair. You didn’t think your embarrassing crush on him could get any stronger. But, here he was, standing in front of you with bed hair and the most endearing scowl on his face.

“Spit it out, dumbass,” he snaps at you. You blink at him, which only seems to irritate him further. “What the hell are you doing being loud at 2 AM?”

Damn, so you did wake him up.

“Sorry.” You lift your laptop into his view. “Trying to finish Snipe’s World War I essay.”

He’s quiet for a moment. You’ve been friends with him long enough to know that he’s trying to think of the words to say. You marvel at how much he’s changed over the past year. While he was still the same crude and short-tempered Bakugou that you met in 1st year, the months he spent in therapy following the fight with Shigaraki had mellowed him out. He now thought twice before he spoke and took the time to formulate thoughtful responses to delicate situations.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

And then sometimes he says shit like that. You scowl at him, mood even worse than before.

“Thanks, you didn’t have to remind me.” You turn back around, focusing your eyes on your laptop. Crush or not, he really pissed you off sometimes. “You can go back to bed. I promise I’ll be quiet.”

You stare at the last sentence that you wrote, not comprehending anything. You’re contemplating just pressing random keys and hoping they form a sentence when Bakugou pulls the laptop away from you. What the hell? When did he get there? And also—

“Hey! Give it back!” You stand up, trying to take the laptop back from him. You’re a little sluggish, probably because of the lack of sleep, which leaves you helpless as he saves your work and turns off your laptop. “Bakugou, that’s due tomorrow!”

“Yeah, in 5th period, which is after lunch. You can do it then,” he says. He keeps the laptop away from your each. His other hand comes up to flick your forehead.

“You can’t get any work done fucking sleep-deprived, idiot.”

You pull a face, rubbing your forehead, “You’re so mean.”

He rolls his eyes at you, “That’s because you’re a fucking dumbass. Let’s go. It’s too fucking early for this.”

He turns away, heading up the stairs. You watch his retreating back, a warm feeling in your chest. Ugh, and just as you were telling yourself to get over him, he pulls shit like this.

“Are you fucking coming, or are you just gonna stand there like an idiot?” He calls from the top of the stairs.

“Yeah, yeah. Hold your horses.”

You gather the papers spread across the coffee table and follow him up. The elevator ride up to your floor is silent. You find that you don’t mind and take the opportunity to steal glances at him. You knew that he had just turned seventeen in April, but you could already see the traces of young adulthood in his face.

He had stubble growing in, barely noticeable because of how light his hair is, but there nonetheless. His jaw was so sharp that it could probably cut someone, and his face was becoming more defined. He must have noticed you staring because he looked over at you.

“What?” He asked. He looked just as tired as you did, which made sense. Of all the people that you knew, Bakugou was the only one who slept at 8 PM. Even Iida, their resident goody-goody, slept at 10 PM.

“Nothing,” you answered. He didn’t look like he believed you, but was probably too tired to push it.

He walks you to your door (you’re definitely gonna scream about this to Ochaco later), your laptop still under his arm. He doesn’t hand it to you even when you stop in front of your room.

“So, are you ever going to give my laptop back, or what?” You ask when he just stands there.

He doesn’t respond, looking like he wanted to say something, but he needed to think of the words first. You waited patiently, even if you wanted nothing more than to crash on your bed.

“You’re finishing this during lunch,” he finally says. You nod, trying to follow his train of thought.

“At the table,” he continues. You nod again. “With me.”

“Yes, Bakugou, of course. We sit at the same table.” You really don’t know where this conversation was going. He looked at you in exasperation, like he expected you to get what he was saying already.

“No, not with the other extras. With me, like alone. On another table.”

You blink. Your brain, running on its last battery percentage, is trying to process what he just said. He wanted you to finish the essay with him, on a table different from your usual, alone. Did he? Wait, oh my god. Did he mean like a study date?

Your face feels warm as the thought finally dawns on you. Oh my god, Bakugou wanted to have a study date with you. He must have seen the look of realization on your face because he turned red. He looked away pushing the laptop into your hand.

“Whatever. See you at lunch tomorrow, or not. I don’t care.” He put his hands into the pockets of his chairs and turns away, heading back to the elevator to head up to his room. Your brain is screaming at you to tell him something, but your mouth is a little slow on the uptake.

“Bakugou!” You call out. He stops but doesn’t turn. You feel the smile creeping up on your face, so wide that it threatens to split it in two, “I’d love to have a study date with you.”

You can’t see his face, but from the way the tips of his ears turn red, you know that he’s red again.

“Whatever,” he says before he walks briskly down the hallway. You don’t enter your room until you hear the elevator doors close. You can’t help the scream you let out in your pillow or the fast beating of your heart.

Bakugou just asked you out on a study date. It didn’t matter that he didn’t say it in those exact words, you knew from his reaction that he meant it.

As you drifted off to sleep, you thought, ‘Thank you whoever invented essays. I will never curse your name ever again.’

I finished writing this at 4:53 A.M. lmfaooo. Inspiration strikes at the weirdest times, I swear. Feel free to hmu if you want me to write something hehe.

#bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #mine: bakugou katsuki

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charged-wanderlust · 3 years

Text

a beautiful hurricane, pt. 3 | jett slater x mc x remy chevalier

THIS... THIS IS ALMOST 3K WORDS LMFAOOO well. i hope that makes up for the wait SDFGJSDHDS warning for mild smut ahead!!! anyway thank you so much @mcira for commissioning me, it helps me greatly and was so fun to do! if anyone else wants me to write them something, my commission prices are here!

What you really end up doing, instead of talking to Remy, is first, talking to Nikolai.

It only felt right - nobody knew Remy like Nikolai did, you’re pretty sure they dated once upon a time but refuse to talk about it, and Nikolai working with all of you made his approval very significant to the matter at hand.

“You’re asking for my blessing… to ask out Remy?” He blinks, dazed and confused, an uncommon expression from the mastermind himself. “Why do I have a say in who he dates?”

“It’s less asking for permission and more like asking for advice,” you explain quickly, scratching awkwardly at the back of your neck. “We know Remy is the jealous type, that much is obvious. So we just wanna know what you think on the whole polyamory thing - would Remy try it? Do you know how he feels about.. about us?”

Nikolai scoffs, his signature smirk returning. “The real question is, who doesn’t know how he feels about you two?” His words make you and Jett flush parallel shades of red, but you let him continue. “Yes, he’s definitely in love with you both. And that’s precisely why he hasn’t done anything about it; he doesn’t think he deserves one partner, let alone two. Instead, he drags out this con as long as physically possible just so he can pretend to be your husband a little bit longer, pretend like he can have you before you inevitably end up with Jett.”

Jett strokes his chin in thought, gears turning in his brain. “That would also explain why he’s been a lot more forward with me lately, but only when MC isn’t around… wow, he really thinks it’s his last chance, huh?”

He nods. “Exactly. In his head, he’s not worthy of love and you two deserve each other and are perfect together. I don’t even think the thought of polyamory has even crossed his mind.”

“Well it should!” Jett protests, like it means anything to Nikolai. “We both wanna date him, and he wants both of us! What now?”

“What do you think?” Nikolai asks it like it’s the most obvious question in the world. “You ask him.”

It has to be dramatic, you’d decided. Something awe-inducing, something solid and concrete so he can’t argue - because if there’s one thing Remy Chevalier knows how to do, it’s argue. You work with the Poppy to get Remy out of the penthouse - Vivienne might have poisoned him just a little to get the job done - long enough to stuff his room with lilies of the valley, and you help Jett paint the border of Remy’s mirror with all the little things you can think of that have some semblance of importance to you.

Making sure to use easy-to-remove paints, the two of you get carried away, branching from the edges of his mirror onto the walls, painting sunsets shared and fireworks made and foods had together. You and Jett work in perfect tandem with each other, art connecting to make one big picture that almost looks like a time-lapse of all the time you’d spent with him; the sunset where Jett realised his love for Remy all those years ago fading into the ice cream shop you discovered Remy’s favourite flavour was vanilla, fading into the river you all boated down together and learned that Remy has a surprisingly sweet singing voice.

Jett keeps pausing in the middle of his paintings, though, and eventually it becomes enough to make you ask.

“Jett? At first I thought you were just thinking about the painting real hard, but you’re not even looking at it. What’s wrong?”

You thought he was starting to get insecure, but instead, he laughs. He laughs and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

“Nothing’s wrong, love, I’m looking at you.”

“Oh.”

“You’re most attractive when you’re in your element like this, I think,” he explains, touching up the clouds on his side of the wall. “I just can’t help but think of how lucky I am.”

About an hour too early, the door flies open, and both of you whip around to find Remy in the doorway.

“Ah-ha I knew you guys were… up to… something…..” His voice trails off as he takes in the view before him, the flowers he’d only ever given those he’d loved, the paintings that he recognised the meanings of instantly, his own face in the mirror with a little crown painted atop his head- “What… what is all this? I thought it’d be another prank but… this… this is beautiful…”

You exchange a look with Jett, grinning from ear to ear, and gesture Remy to come sit on the bed with you.

“Oh-ho-ho, this is a really elaborate one is it? Let me guess. All of this for a really well-timed whoopee cushion?”

“How you wound me,” Jett sighs, bringing his hand to his forehead. “You really think that low of us?”

“I assure you, Remy,” you chip in, “I wouldn’t spend this much effort on a prank.”

“Then what else?”

Once again, you turn to Jett, who looks just as uncertain of what to say as you are. “Uh. Something important?”

Taking a deep breath, you figure you’re going to have to do the talking for the both of you.

“I’m gonna start talking, Remy, and I don’t want you to say shit till I say I’m finished. Okay?”

Remy is completely and utterly bewildered, but he nods slowly and sits on the bed, door shutting behind him as he observes the memories plastered all over his bedroom wall.

“We’re in love with you,” Jett blurts out, and it startles you so much you elbow him in the rib.

“What was that for?!”

“Ever heard of laying it on slowly?!”

“You’re… what?”

You sigh, gathering the courage to look Remy in the eyes as you talk. “Remy… over these past few months, working with you, getting to know you, the real you - the Remy underneath all those masks you wear to please people - I find I don’t want to stop being yours when the con ends. I-If you’ll have me, that is. And if you’ll have Jett, too.”

“It wasn’t the marriage con we did once that made me fall for you, actually,” Jett laughs, running a hand through his hair. “It was before that. That one kiss on the rooftop in Buenos Aires when the sun rose, when we didn’t go any further than that. All of a sudden it wasn’t about the sex anymore, or how good of a kisser you are - it was about you. Just you.”

“And before you butt in about me falling in love with you because you’re acting as my husband,” you interject, giving him a stern, knowing look that makes him shrink a little, “You’ve been teaching me all your tricks. I know when you’re being real or not. You can even test me.”

Something changes is Remy’s eyes when you say that, and he fixes them on yours.

“I love you.”

“That’s real.”

He smiles, but it’s the smile of a broken man, getting up to leave. “It’s not, ma cherie. You’re not as good as you think you are.”

“That’s also a lie!” He freezes, pinned under your glare, and you grab his hand, threading your fingers with his. Jett does the same with his other hand, face uncharacteristically solemn, and once again, Remy is speechless. “That’s what you want to believe, Remy, you’re lying to yourself more than anyone else. You think you’re getting in the way of us, you think you don’t deserve it but let me tell you, there’s a way. We can love you as much as we love each other - we do, and if you don’t wanna believe it that’s your own loss because we really, really care about you!”

The silence is is deafening enough to make your hands tremble.

“That- That’s all I have to say. Jett?”

“I’ve never been good with words,” Jett huffs, bringing Remy’s hand to his mouth and pressing a gentle kiss across the man’s knuckles. “But I can prove how I feel about you in any way you ask, Remy. Through touch, through action, hell, through painting-” he gestures at the colourful wall behind him in exasperation, “-it’s all for you. These are all memories-”

“The time we had brunch on a boat,” Remy cut in, gazing fondly at the river painted atop his mirror. “The time in Bruges we kissed to be inconspicuous… the time I brought you ice cream tasting…” His eyes landed on the flowers adorning the sides of his room. “The flowers I’d given you.”

His mouth opens and closes like he’s trying to speak underwater, but he’s ran out of air - ran out of words - so instead, he wraps an arm around each of you and pulls you in for a soul-crushing hug, burying his face in your shoulders. He doesn’t make a noise, but his body quivers, and you and Jett realise he’s crying at the same time.

“I-I love you both, too.” His voice is small, but not weary - it’s just for you and Jett only, not the ears in the walls. “I love you both so much it-it- it hurts and I didn’t know what to do with myself and I just-”

He sits back up, wiping the tears from his face and giving you a real smile this time, the smile you see in your sketchbook, your dreams, your future - “It’s just too good to be true, almost. Like there’s meant to be a catch.”

Jett cups Remy’s face, kissing him softly, briefly, but enough to send tingles down his spine.

“The catch is you’re going to have to deal with both of us and all the shenanigans that ensue.”

Remy returns the kiss, just as chaste but just as lovingly. “I guess I have my hands full, then.”

“You sure do!” You laugh, climbing into his lap, jokingly shoving Jett aside - to which he yelps, “hey!” - and bringing your face close to Remy’s. “My turn, Remy. You told me a real kiss could tear open the sky. Care to demonstrate?”

He doesn’t waste a moment. You feel his smirk against your lips before you see it, welcoming the blistering heat as he pulls you closer to him, chest to chest. Finally, finally, finally - you thread your fingers in his long, silky hair, just like you’ve imagined so long, and all the teasing was so worth it because he kisses you like he can’t live without it. Maybe he can’t, not now that he’s had a taste and it really does break open the sky; the whole galaxy and beyond.

Getting impatient, Jett moves behind you, knocking Remy back onto the mattress and pinning you between them. He doesn’t expect you to stop kissing Remy - he knows firsthand how addicting his kiss is - instead, he tosses your hair over one shoulder and places his lips upon your now exposed neck, light, not tentative but tantalizing.

“Jett…”

“Oh, don’t let me interrupt you two,” he purrs next to your ear, ghosting his lips across the shell. “I’m quite enjoying the show.”

“You tease,” Remy half-chuckles-half-rasps, reaching past you to grab Jett’s collar and yank him down into another searing kiss, only to bite his lip harsh enough to make him gasp, then pulling back to leave him hanging.

Jett licks his lips, eyes flashing at the unspoken challenge. “So how are we doing this, then?”

“We’ve danced this dance before, you and I,” Remy muses, tracing Jett’s jawline with the pad of his thumb, “We should let MC decide.”

“I’ve danced this dance with both of you,” Jett snickers, peeling off the two of you to start working the buckles of his suspenders, giving you a cheeky wink. “Maybe I should give you tips. For example…”

He rolls you off Remy, pinning your wrists above your head, “MC likes being manhandled a little bit. And she’s really sensitive right here-” He sucks at the soft skin above your collarbone and you let out a soft whine on instinct, embarrassment painted all over your face, but you don’t miss the way Remy’s eyes darken at the sound.

“Good to know… any other tips I should know?”

“Ah-ah-ah, it should be fair for both of you.”

This time, he cages Remy to the bed, and you watch with rapt attention as he hikes the other man’s shirt up, giving you a brilliant view of his toned muscles. Jett leans down and drags his teeth along his v-line, making his legs twitch beneath him.

“Ah- Jett, you’re a menace.”

“You love it.”

A disgruntled sigh is the only confirmation he gives, but the smile on his face says it all as he shrugs off his shirt entirely, throwing it somewhere else in the room. “I quite preferred MC on top of me, actually.”

“Mm, it is a good look on you,” Jett agrees, helping you out of your clothes with surprising calmness compared to his usual frenzied movements. Clearly, Remy brings out the side of him that likes to really savour it.

Remy can’t help but groan at the sight of you in all your glory, taking Jett’s advice from earlier and tugging you atop him impatiently - maybe Jett brought out the beast in Remy, too.

Emboldened by his eagerness, you grind down on him, and the low rumble you hear from him in response is music to your ears. “I didn’t know our Remy was so… vocal.”

“Oh, you haven’t heard him when he’s taking it-”

“If we have to bring that up, mon coeur, I think you have me beat.”

You giggle, magnetically drawn to his lips once more while your hands fumble with his belt; Jett helps you discard the remaining cloth in the way so you and Remy finally, finally come together - it’s electric. You feel the static buzz all the way down to your toes, and it’s so, so good.

“Think you can handle both of us, love?” Jett peppers your shoulder blades with kisses, and while just the thought makes you shudder - you nod, almost too enthusiastically.

“I want it.”

“Good girl.”

The addition of Jett fills the room the with a chorus of moans that you can barely tell who from who. They give you a minute to adjust - ever the gentlemen - and next thing you know is an all-encompassing pleasure that pulses through your whole body, and you swear you can see stars. You have to bite down on Remy’s shoulder to not alert the entire building of the debauchery going on in the room, but he just grips your hips harder, growling deep in his chest.

“Don’t hold back on me, ma reveuse. Let us hear you.”

Who are you to deny him?

Noise complaints be damned, you think - the Poppy had stayed in town for this very reason. With every movement from Remy and Jett, your mind goes blank, only able to focus on the two of them working in perfect harmony, their hips, their lips, their hands, their voices, just them, them, them.

“C-Christ, you’re incredible- you’re both incredible. I’m- I’m-”

Jett’s pace stutters, but Remy keeps going, absolutely voracious, and your highs all crash down at once. Your back arches, toes curl, and you don’t even recognise the sounds leaving your mouth, but your two boyfriends ride out the wave with you, muttering choked-up praise in your ear and hushed I love you’s until your soul finally returns to your body.

The three of you collapse on the bed, a tangle of limbs and sweat, and Jett has the audacity to laugh. Not even having the breath to reply, you just tilt your head at him, raising a brow in question.

“Hah- If I knew this was how it would’ve ended up, I would’ve asked you both out a lot sooner, fuck…”

You gave him a worn-out, lazy grin. “I don’t think I can feel my legs.”

Remy pecks your cheek affectionately, rolling out of bed to head for the bathroom. “I’ll get you a towel.”

“You did great, love,” Jett hums softly, stroking your hair rhythmically, gazing at you with entire galaxies behind his eyes. “Don’t worry. Between me and Remy, we can carry you everywhere until you can walk again.”

“I’d kiss that stupid smirk off your face if I had the energy,” you huff, crossing your arms. “You’re way too smug for your own good.”

“You love it.”

Remy returns with a damp towel, gently wiping you down with enough care to turn your limbs to jelly if they weren’t already bone-tired. “We do, unfortunately. What a shame.”

Jett weakly whacks him on the shoulder, and the three of you laugh together like the notes of a perfect chord. It’s hectic, all of you being together, but it’s perfect. Life never did stop being a hurricane, but with these two by your side, you know you can surrender to the harsh winds, letting it carry you along like a roller coaster - heart always thumping, eyes always shining.

You never knew a hurricane could be so beautiful.

#FINALLY THIS HULK OF A FIC IS DONE #well its not the longest thing ive written by far but #it sure is for lovestruck anyway #lovestruck voltage #queen of thieves #qot mc #jett slater #remy chevalier #jett x mc #jett x remy #remy x mc #jett x remy x mc #lovestruck fanfiction

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anxiety-trademark · 4 years

Text

The week in review:

Raw 12/14 NXT 12/16 NXT UK 12/17 Smackdown 12/18 TLC 12/20 + Main Event 12/17

Raw:

“This Sunday at tlc, it’s gonna be you and me against Nia and Shayna,” Lana says to Asuka, as a quiet ‘woo’ can be heard in the distance.

Lana facing her fears and fighting Nia Jax makes her the bravest person Asuka knows. Rolling. Fucking Asuka. ASUKA. wwe, stop.

Why isn’t Asuka accompanying Lana to the ring?

I like Lana’s gear.

Joe just compared Lana to a mosquito, goodbye.

Oh snap look how fast Lana did that headscissors takedown. We’re witnessing her progression, ladies and gents.

You know, I knew Lana would win this match, I knew exactly how she would win this match, but jfc what a treat watching it myself.

Nia’s face lmfao.

Shayna wrecking Asuka so she can’t save Lana from her inevitable fate. Still curious on whether or not this beatdown injured her, if she was injured going into the match, or if it was all really just a storyline.

Yikes this is sad.

Man that leg drop onto Lana’s ankle actually looked kinda wicked, ngl.

*distant woo intensifies*

Wow we got real tears from Lana. Points.

Becky and Charlotte have been gone, Alexa hasn’t been on tv, the Raw women’s championship has become a meaningless prop... what a dead period for this roster.

Hi why is this match happening?

I will never not be impressed by Dana’s entrance.

Is Mandy actually hurt? Why did they take her off tv for so long? Is Shayna the resident kayfabe shelver? “Hey this girl is actually injured, have her written off by Shayna” ?? Cuz I know they’re not splitting Dana and Mandy up, and Dana has been on tv every week since Mandy left. Must be genuine.

These 2 are running roughshod over the entire division at this point.

OH SHIT MANDY’S BACK WITH A KENDO STICK

Lmfao the babyfaces are fucking done with Nia and Shayna. Honestly that’s great, I love it when babyfaces band together to stand up to dominant duos. This has been going on long enough. They took out Mandy, took out Lana, were about to take out Dana. Totally fair.

Highlight: Lana getting a clean win over Nia & being taken out so my queen can return

---

NXT:

It’s a funny thing with Toni and Rhea. Toni says she’s the reason Rhea came to nxt, but she’s also the reason I became such a huge fan of Rhea’s. Heard they were having some big TakeOver match and everyone was always praising Toni. So I checked into Blackpool solely to see what the Toni Storm fuss was about, and I left that ppv solely impressed by Rhea Ripley. Then I took particular notice of Rhea in the Royal Rumble a few weeks later, and I’ve been watching NXT UK for her ever since (til she moved). To see her growth has been tremendous, and she’s so young. Such a bright future.

The music to this is great.

Toni says she isn’t scared of Rhea, as if Rhea’s mere theme music didn’t scare the absolute shit out of Toni the week prior lol.

Toni’s not even a terrible promo, but the timing of her blinks could not be worse. Yes, it matters.

I can’t stop laughing at how fucking intensely Shotzi started this interview.

She does pissed off interviews well. I can feel her annoyance.

Really don’t want to see a Candice/Shotzi feud tbh but okay, I’ll try.

aaand there’s the howl. Awful.

Lmfao Rhea called Toni a piece of trash. This is gonna be interesting to see with the alignments reversed.

I don’t remember who won this match, but I’m betting it was Toni. Which is fair tbh. Rhea is probably on the “put some peeps over before moving up to the main roster” path that everyone in the women’s division walks on. They always eat at least one monumental, or a couple meaningful, loss(es).

Oh man that is fucked up. To not only be forced to continue punching/kicking a human (fun fact: the person on the offense takes quite the damage doing so) but to have the defenseless victim bleed out and beg for you to stop. That’s rough.

This was shot really well. That music holy shit, I’m creeped out. It’s like a horror movie.

I see the point. Numbs him to pain and breaks his will, while numbing her to mercy. Ruthless stuff.

Oh are we finally done with Indi’s neck brace? Cool.

I can’t believe wwe invested in this upgraded tank. I still don’t think it’d work on the MR, but points to the boss for shelling out the cash.

Wtf was that stumble and “fall” by Indi lmao.

If Candice was a real bully, she’d distract Shotzi by fucking with her tank at ringside.

Indi does need a mentor, she’s a hell of a lot greener than my mutuals have made it sound. oof.

Shotzi looks like she has no idea how to work with Indi, and Indi looks gassed, confused, and slow as hell.

All Indi knows it going from spot to spot while Shotzi waits around for her to get there.

Lol Indi failed at getting a dirty win. I don’t really care if this is a part of her The Way storyline, what a mess.

The only redeeming part of this piss poor segment was Theory shaking the troll’s head at Shotzi.

I’ll give wwe an extra $9.99 if they let this match have a clean ending.

“[Rhea] was at one point the biggest superstar in the world,” that isn’t even close to being true because Becky Lynch exists, but I’ll let it slide and pretend you said “in nxt”.

Their paths will be so similar to Becky and Charlotte in the future.

Wow what a sequence. That would’ve received an applause on the MR. Traded headlocks for restholds, threw around their strength, then went into a battle of pinfall reversals. Instead of following that with some stalemate, they didn’t take a breath and proceeded to dance with each other and showcase some chemistry before rolling back into a battle of pinfall reversals. The sequence started with a kick by Toni to Rhea’s midsection, and it ends with a kick by Rhea to Toni’s midsection. Peep that match production, good stuff.

My, my, those slaps to Toni’s back. Whew.

Yeah actually it’s really fucking cool that these 2 get to main event nxt together, come to think of it.

They sell well for each other.

Rhea has the best dropkicks, lesbireal.

Holy shit Toni’s headbutts make my own head hurt. God I wish she wouldn’t. Most people put their hands between the heads so no contact can be made, but Toni’s just like “lol fuck it”

This is a great match. This duo works a lot better with these specific alignments. Watching face Toni try to chop down Rhea is not as good as heel Toni being impossibly hard for Rhea to put away.

Women’s matches and never having a clean ending. Name a more iconic duo. Winter of overbooked women’s matches continues.

Like I had guessed Toni was gonna win anyway, but fucking come on.

*Bonus* online exclusive: Toni says playing by the rules got her diddly and squat, but like... she was a champion lol. “It ain’t even Toni time right now, it’s party time.” Alright.

Highlight: Rhea vs Toni minus the ending

---

NXT UK:

I don’t know why we’re getting Isla Dawn vs KLR but anytime I get to see KLR fight, I’m here for it.

Hell even Isla’s song never kicks it out of first gear. Song has so much potential but it never goes to the next level.

Ahhhh my Scottish queen is here.

No, don’t compare Sasha’s basement meteora to the double knees Isla did. That was pitiful.

Anyway, KLR vs any of the 4hw would be fantastic, take my money. Sasha, Bayley, Charlotte, or the woman KLR wanted to face at TO Dublin, Dublin native Becky Lynch.

That back body drop is horrendous as a finisher. It’s like when Becky won her debut match the exploder suplex. Awful lmao. Imagine if KLR lost to a back body drop ffs.

You don’t get to be this frustrated for not being able to beat the champion when you’ve only been fighting for like 3 mins.

Isla’s pisspoor speed going in the corner, and her pisspoor roll off of KLR’s tornado ddt. Shame.

Such a clean transition from a failed pinfall attempt into a submission by KLR, whew.

This whole match was just a flex by KLR lmao.

There was a time where we had Becky Lynch, Bayley, Rhea Ripley and KLR as our champions. Wow, take me back plz.

The background music of this stupid recording is so unnecessarily dramatic, wow.

All for the delivery of a chair. Of a fucking chair. Piper... shut up and handle your shit.

For someone so much larger than the little man, Piper is insanely unintimidating.

Highlight: I got to see KLR wrestle

---

Smackdown:

Bayley does run her mouth a lot. She’s kind of the EST at saying dumb shit that gets her into trouble lmao.

Bianca is so friggin good at interviews and in backstage segments. She hasn’t received much of a chance to do promos in the ring, let alone obviously to a live crowd, but I hope she shines there, too.

Has Liv reverted back to being a dumb blonde, or is it drugs? Stop letting her speak.

Love Riott Squad’s everchanging gear. Wonder who makes it for them.

Billie Kay claims that she’s a ‘seasoned’ ring announcer, and somehow that would not surprise me.

Tamina “get the fuck out of my face until I get a nap and a vat of coffee” Snuka, everyone.

Lmfaooo Tamina fucking chucked Liv across the damn ring. What a good job by Liv.

Ruby is exceptional at running the ropes. She gets a good spring off of it.

Tamina’s hair is always so beautiful, she gets points there.

Dropkick into a faceplant. Billie Kay gets pinned rofl. She’s so bad at wrestling and yet here I am ridiculously entertained.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Carmella’s current persona, but man I wish she’d come out in a cut off tank top, camo pants, high tops and a printed hat.

I mean people are at home cuz covid, but go off.

Aye putting over Sasha. Good heel Mella.

Sasha has held the title for like a whopping 2 months and we’re already marking calendars. Sad.

In kf, Sasha is kind of mentally weak, so I’ll give Mella that. I’m not sure what it’s gonna take to shake that perception, either.

“Who is Sasha Banks if she’s not the Boss? Who is Sasha Banks if she’s not the best? It’s sad because that’s a question that not even Sasha Banks knows the answer too.” So I get that wwe are trying to help Sasha develop and fight off her past demons, but man these women are ripping her a new one. Sasha’s only 29 so she can grow and develop however she wants, but jeeze. Salt, meet the dagger Bayley stuck in Sasha’s back.

I like Mella cuz she knows how to hype her opponent’s accolades and strengths while cutting an immaculate heel promo where she hits them RIGHT where it hurts. She’s a pro. Heels should take notes.

This music is like the Jazz Vibes playlist I always listen to.

She just called Sasha cheap and frantic lmaoooo

Oh damn Sasha be out here looking like MONEY. That girl has style, even if it doesn’t always hit with me, she got style.

oof the crack of that slap to Reggie.

OOF the crack of the bottle shattering over Sasha’s poor back. rip.

Match at TLC should’ve been a champagne match. That entails whatever your mind comes up with; pouring alcohol on your opponent, dumping their head in a bucket of ice, breaking bottles over spines. It don’t matter.

“You don’t see me going around here bragging about how damn good I am,” lmao WHAT. Bayley is equal parts delusional and obnoxiously annoying.

One size heel does not fit all, but I think her version suits her beautifully.

If I were her I’d pick your brain too, but I’d also want a match, cuz people leave matches with you looking as good as humanly possible. Equal parts selfless as well.

She didn’t lie, this was absolutely her putting Bianca on the map on the main roster.

wwe: wants to strap a rocket to Bianca and make her a star. Also fucking wwe: “lol no we’re not gonna show you her full entrance, cry more scrub.”

Bayley still looks weird without a title.

Bayley mocks Bianca’s entrance and then gets swept onto the apron lmao. Idiot.

Bianca is a lot of flash and showboating, which is great from an entertainment standpoint, but she needs to do a little... less.

Fantastic snap of the hand against the led board. Bayley wrecking Bianca’s arm gonna hinder the flips.

“I’m the ER. I’m BET-TER. haha.” lmao Bayley is such a fucking dork. Got sent into the ring steps for her bravado. Love that there’s always immediate repercussions for Bayley’s arrogance.

Bayley turned midway going down onto Bianca’s knee for that backbreaker, there. Hope she doesn’t have a massive bruise. Looked like it’d leave a massive bruise.

3 things I’ll apparently never get to see again: Bianca’s hair whip, Bianca’s full entrance, and Bianca’s 450 splash. I’m tired.

These stupid fucking squats while Bianca is dangling off the top rope rofl I swear Bayley is something else. Girl knows how to entertain. “Bayley got a bit cute and Bianca made her pay,” story of Bayley’s life.

Beautiful spinebuster by Bianca. At least SOMEONE in the women’s division will use it.

Bit of a miscommunication there it seems. Bayley goes for a B2B, Bianca tries to block it, Bayley drops down to dodge and go for a cradle. She rolls Bianca all the way back, stands up and hesitates before running at Bianca with an elbow - even though Bianca is not in position to receive it - which Bianca counters by rolling Bayley up, but it was super obvious Bianca was just scouting the next spot. Bianca goes to pick her up for a powerbomb but Bayley has to kick out twice to prevent herself from being pinned while Bianca tries to lift her. That entire sequence was super messy.

Then Bianca nearly drops her lifting her all the way up lol. Yikes. Gotta be pretty fluent to pull that off. Not to plug my fav (but I’m totally gonna plug my fav); it’s a move Charlotte does in almost every match against Asuka or Becky, and you gotta be not only built to pull it off, but you need to have impeccable timing to make the transition look smooth. Extra points if you lift them off the mat RIGHT before a 3 (which Charlotte usually does)

Anyway, good match with a messy last 2 sequences. Bayley did what Bayley does best.

Highlight: Bayley vs Bianca

---

TLC:

They really took Eva Marie and Sasha Banks’ characters and meshed them together while keeping Carmella’s obsession for animal print lol.

Really don’t like that gear. That’s a miss, Mikaze.

Beautiful arm drag. Sasha taking the idea of wrestling like a Lucha more seriously? Cuz she should, ain’t nobody else in the MR doing it.

Commentators say the trash talk is continuing, I say Sasha is quietly leading this match with a grimace. Peeped that “hit me”.

Carmella goes to suicide dive through the ropes just for Reggie to catch her, cept she got caught up and started turning in midair. Would’ve hit her neck and shoulder HARD had he not been there. Great catch indeed.

Sasha “rip my back” Banks.

Not to be douchey, but if you have to adjust your gear in the middle of a match and it’s not just to fill time or be used as character work, then you need to redesign your gear.

Sasha’s a great babyface once that bell rings man. I wish she could carry that energy everywhere.

Holy fuck that facebuster. SPIKED her head, oh my god. I have never seen anyone make a facebuster look so impactful. Points if intentional.

Oh the timing of Sasha blocking that superkick from legit connecting. God she’s good.

You know how I know this is a good match? I’m watching some of these near pinfalls and submissions knowing damn well Sasha’s gonna win, yet my anxiety is still spiking thinking Carmella might walk out with the title. I KNOW she doesn’t though lmao. Good sequences, believable offense, great near pinfalls. They work well together (I’m not surprised, Mella and Sasha both work well with almost anyone)

What a fantastic transition into the bank statement. Points.

That match should’ve ended by dq the second Reggie pulled Mella out.

Sasha could’ve sold that double superkick pinfall attempt a little bit more.

Carmella having a breakdown. What does that mean? That means she’s about to lose this match lmao. There it is, not even 10 seconds later hahaha.

Sasha sells pain so damn well. Good for her. Good defense of her title. Points to Sasha, she’s phenomenal every time she has an actual match. Post-match and she’s already annoyed me though lol. Ugh. Maybe she’ll get it soon enough.

Nice “replay” wwe. Billion dollar company btw.

Billie, drawing a horizontal line is not how you write ‘clairvoyant’.

“proficient in Japanese” aw Asuka was so excited for a split second lmao.

Oh no, she made a mask to match Asuka’s with a paper plate. Oh no no no. Travesty.

Ugh I’m so excited. I’ve already seen this and yet I’m excited. Here we are, the whole damn reason I started catching up on everything I basically refused to watch since June 22.

SHE LOOKS LIKE MONEY, WHEW. The queen IS back. She’s so fucking beautiful man.

Love how annoyed Nia looks. This is your comeuppance tbh. Could’ve just faced a measly Lana, but no, you had to play too much.

Really Charlotte shouldn’t be in the tag division, and really she shouldn’t give half of a fuck about Asuka, but we’ll get to that more in the future since this is already nearly 2 months old.

Nia’s doing a great job selling Charlotte’s return, and she’s not even active in the match rn. She does good work.

Bad camera angle on Asuka hitting the ring post.

Asuka getting wrecked lol.

I really despise that the Raw women’s championship was tied up in all of these storylines that have nothing to do with the Raw women’s championship. The Lana crap, the Charlotte crap, the tag teaming in general crap.

In hindsight, I now find it curious that Ric Flair was in the back for this match. Very curious. I swear, if the past 2 real time months weren’t a part of some master plan the Flairs came up with together, I will be SHOCKED.

Charlotte’s fucking crazy for doing those moonsaults to the outside though, for real. I know she was a gymnast and an exceptional cheerleader, but MAN you could not pay me to do fucking blind back flips that high up. Crazy.

She should’ve given us a spear in this match. I wanna go rewatch her work just to see some spears.

Good match. They needed to not focus on destroying Asuka for as long as they did, pacing was off for a little bit there.

Love how Charlotte sticks her tongue out when she bridges up into the figure 8. She’s such an asshole lmao.

If I could’ve changed one thing about that finish, I would’ve had Charlotte bounce off the ropes before hitting Natural Selection. Other than that, it was great.

Charlotte looks good with a title, idk *shrug*

The way Charlotte looked over at Asuka though. I really don’t trust her in hindsight lol.

Like how this Firefly Funhouse is setting the spotlight on Alexa before Bray takes his leave of absence, only wish she hadn’t missed 2-3 wks of tv.

What a fun way of running a video package.

Inferno matches are insane and I’m not sure why anyone would participate in such.

Think it’s smart they’re both leaving their jackets on tbh.

Alright that was cool. The way Fiend called up the flames was fucking cool. It looks amazing aesthetically. They could’ve never done the set quite like this if there had been fans.

WE HAVE STRAPS?! IS FIRE NOT ENOUGH?!? Man. Randy is a fucking trooper.

Guys. Guys excuse me, that strap is on fire, can... can we not, please??

Man is swinging a god damn pick axe at Randy Orton, I--

I hope that wasn’t actually flammable liquid cuz otherwise Randy is now soaked in it, and that’s insanely dangerous. Oh that’s great editing. So it was flammable, but Randy was out of the chair before the fire rushed at him. Also covered the chair in blood. That was cool.

Orton just pull the damn string out of the jacket real quick lol.

Caught Orton’s attempt at an rko with a mandable claw. Points.

Can someone... put him out? Editing trick? Were the flames real? Am I real??

Shouldn’t the bell ring? Match is over, right??

The dummy was kind of obvious ngl. Not to sound like an asshole, but they should’ve made it a bit thicker and more solid lol. Doesn’t really take me out of it though, cuz even though I’m sure it was a stunt double that got lit on fire by the ramp, someone was on fucking fire, and that’s intimidating in itself.

Also the dummy is melting. I’d say they should’ve used pig meat, but I’m sure vegans and animal rights activists would’ve had a field day writing to Snickers about that.

Was a good match, for what it was. I was entertained.

---

*BONUS*

Main Event:

“Nasty Nikki” lol okay.

“The only reason people even know you exist is because you were Alexa Bliss’ best friend,” ouch. Truth is pain.

Ahahahah Lacey has hand sanitizer again.

Love that submission Lacey jumped into through the ropes, plus an eye rake. Fantastic.

That’s curious. Lacey and Peyton are arguing over the hand sanitizer as Lacey wants to squirt it on Nikki, while Peyton is claiming it’ll get her DQd. Now I’m on Peyton’s side in the sense that it should absolutely be illegal, but Lacey’s done it in a match against Nikki before, sooo ???

I like how Nikki fell trying to get back into the ring before the 10 count. Adds credibility.

Haha Nikki gets the pinfall over Lacey because Peyton was being a nuisance on the outside. Lacey big mad. That’s great.

---

*Smackdown easily shined the brightest in what was a great week of wrestling. Utilized 8 women in 3 different storylines, couldn’t possibly complain about that.

#wwe #issa review #feel free to ignore these #cuz who tf cares lesbihonest #today's props goes to:#charlotte flair

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icyharrington · 5 years

Text

Is It Wrong?- Part 7 (Michael Langdon X Reader)

hello!!! so i have been trying so hard these past few weeks trying to get this final part of iiw right. i am insanely nervous to put this out there, because i don’t wanna disappoint any of the amazing people who followed this series from the beginning. i wanna thank all the thirsty hoes who have supported this fic and given me feedback, because y’all are the reason i had the motivation to finish the series. this is the most fun i’ve ever had writing anything, ever. i can’t believe this series is finally coming to an end 🤧BUTTTTT don’t forget that there will be an additional, shorter epilogue chapter! so stay tuned for that ;) I LOVE Y’ALL!!!!

plot: michael langdon is a picture-perfect fuckboy, and, lucky for you, he’s also your stepbrother. how will you survive?

warnings: inappropriate relationships, fuckboy michael, fem!Reader, high school au, teen angst, like seriously A FUCK TON OF TEEN ANGST, fluff, vaginal fingering, handjobs, sexual intercourse, (semi?) public sex, dirty talk

word count: 12.8k (IM SORRY LMFAOOO)

tags: @alicecooper19 @ritualmichael @blackfyrez @bbyduncan @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @michaelsapostle @trelaney @kissydevil @langdonalien @langdonsdemon @sloppy-wrist @michael-langdon-appreciation @wroteclassicaly @cocosfern @sojournmichael @starwlkers @theinevitableprophecy @sodanova @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @divinelangdon @maso-xchrist @space-princesssss @ahslangdon101 @isabellaserpentiawesson @stupidocupido @nana15774 @urlocalgothb @hexqueensupreme @gold-dragon-slayer @pr1ncessd1e @langdonsboots @langdonstrash @prophesieddarling @isoldedax @fckinsupreme @lvngdvns @hisgirlwonder @telexnesis @venusxxlangdon @obsessivenostalgicbaby @noelle525 @kleinegamerin @lambofcairo @kiiteiru @anacerta @nuke-em-from-orbit @thingsthatoncemeantnothing @littledemondani @beriveri @dcvilrising @grossgayartist @featherpool-852 @imjustasadhoe @cryptid-coalition @nu-tt @diamcndscarred @michaelsfrenchtoast @ms-mead @sarcasticbxtch20 @ringpop-poppy @coollangdon @s7venwonders @littlehouseofleaves @elvahavax @king-of-mischief-and-bitchez @alternativepetewentz @maytheforcebewithqueen

(sorry to anyone who asked to be tagged but isn’t in my tag list!! tumblr won’t let me tag certain blogs for some reason!!)

“Goddamn it, how hard is it for you to follow simple GPS directions?” Miriam’s voice was pitched in annoyance as she scolded your father, whose knuckles were near white from how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel.

“You know what? Why don’t I just pull over, and you drive instead?” your father snapped. You and Michael exchanged a glance in the back seat for what seemed like the thousandth time since you’d all loaded into the car several hours before.

In celebration of summer vacation, and you and Michael’s recent graduation from high school, your father and Miriam had decided to arrange something of an impromptu vacation. Your father was far too cheap to travel anywhere of any significant distance, so he’d decided that the next best option was to take a road trip down to Myrtle Beach, Florida.

“Oh my god, yes,” Michael had said to you after your parents had broken the news to you both. “Do you know how many half-naked sluts we’re gonna see there? Myrtle Beach is like, white trash central.”

That comment had been the fuel for one of the many arguments you and Michael had engaged in following graduation; there was tension in the air, hanging thick and heavy over your heads as the days crept along, and the mindless bickering between you and Michael was at an all time high.

Not that it stopped either of you from having sex. Quite the contrary, in fact— you and Michael had been having so much sex that it was maybe even getting a little ridiculous.

“Seriously, Michael?” you’d said after his crude comment, your tone far whinier than originally intended. “Go fuck one of those half-naked white trash sluts instead of me, then.”

It’d taken him several minutes to convince you that he’d been joking (even though you were still fairly certain that he’d been dead serious) followed by some admittedly top-quality make up sex, which proved to be enough to convince you to move on.

Maybe something was in the water, you thought. Even Miriam and your father had seemed to be fighting constantly as of late, and the stressful atmosphere of the household made you feel constantly on edge; it almost felt like there was an impending disaster coming, one that was impossible to prevent. You only hoped that whatever disaster might be on its way would avoid you and Michael.

Right now, Michael was leaning with his forehead resting against the window, a bored look on his face as he skipped through the music playing on his phone. He only had one earbud in, the other draped over his shoulder (presumably so he could eavesdrop on your parents’ ridiculous arguments), dressed casually in light gray sweatpants and a faded Jimi Hendrix shirt.

Fuck, he looked good. He was jostled slightly with each slight motion of the car as it moved forward, the muscles in his arms subtly flexing as he reached up to run his fingers through his soft, tousled blond hair. For a second, your mind was clouded with images of a beach-bound Michael, his tanned, water-speckled torso lean but still toned, swimming trunks clinging to the lowest point of his narrow hips and leaving almost nothing up to the imagination. Your mouth watered.

“You know, if I’d driven, we would’ve actually arrived at the hotel by the time the GPS said,” Miriam said.

“So why didn’t you!?” your father exclaimed.

You locked eyes with Michael yet again, whose pale eyes glimmered with slight amusement at the nonstop back-and-forth between your parents.

“Because you insisted on driving.”

“Insisted? All I did was offer to drive out of the kindness of my— oh fuck, I think we just passed the hotel.”

“We did,” offered Michael flatly from the backseat, the soft glow of the neon hotel sign reflecting in his pupils as he craned his neck to follow the building.

“Goddamn it,” your father muttered, scanning the road for somewhere to make a U-turn.

“Nice going,” Miriam muttered under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest.

You were jerked forward as your father abruptly turned the car around in an act that you were ninety-nine percent sure was illegal; in a matter of seconds, the car was parked in the hotel parking lot, officially marking the end of the several-hour-long trek. Everyone seemed to let out a unanimous sigh of relief.

“Fucking finally,” said Michael, opening the door and swinging his legs outside so his ratty Converse sneakers made contact with the asphalt. You followed suit, making your way around to the trunk, which you popped open to retrieve your colorful travel bag.

The sound of crickets chirping through the mild Florida night was soothing despite its incessantness, and you found yourself smiling idly, a warm breeze gently caressing your face. So maybe you weren’t in the goddamn Dominican Republic, but you were still prepared to enjoy your time here.

Once everyone had taken their respective belongings from the trunk, your father led the way to the front entrance of the hotel.

The hotel lobby was nice, but certainly nothing special; it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the sole reason your father had chosen this place above all others was because it was the cheapest. Your father, weighed down with his overstuffed black bag, trudged over to the front desk with a pained look on his face.

“Imagine this place is infested with roaches,” said Michael lowly, flashing you a shit-eating grin when your face paled at this terrifying prospect.

“Shut up. My dad isn’t that much of a cheapskate.”

“Or what if it’s haunted?” he said, furrowing his brows to mimic a deadly serious expression.

“It’ll be haunted by your ghost in about five seconds if you don’t shut your mouth.”

“I saw this thing online about a girl who went missing, and then they found her in the water tower of the hotel,” he continued, and you rolled your eyes. It wasn’t at all surprising that he was trying to scare you. “And like, all the people staying there were showering and stuff, but little did they know they were washing themselves in dead body water.”

“Can you shut up, please?”

His plump lips contorted into a devious smile. “What, am I scaring you?”

“No, you’re just being really fucking annoying.”

“Aww, don’t worry, (y/n). I’ll protect you from any ghosts or cockroaches that might be here.” He pulled you into a side hug, squeezing you against him with an iron grip as he nuzzled the top of your head with his chin. You pulled away, exerting minimal strength but still managing to evade his grasp.

“Are you going to be this obnoxious the entire trip?” you said, watching as your father appeared to be looking for something in his pockets. After patting himself down for several seconds, he said something to the man behind the front desk; whatever it was that he’d said resulted in Miriam’s face contorting into a look that could easily kill anyone three times over.

“Here we go,” Michael whispered, mouth twitching at the corners as he averted his attention away from you and onto your parents instead.

“You’re an idiot,” Miriam was saying, practically seething as she spoke. “A goddamn idiot. How the hell did you manage to forget the credit card?!”

Your father’s mouth opened and closed as he attempted to come up with a response good enough to satiate his fuming wife, but of course there was none.

“How did he forget the credit card?” Michael said.

You shrugged.

Miriam huffed loudly as she began to dig through her purse, shooting your father a contemptuous glare when her hand emerged, leather wallet in tow. You watched as she pulled out her credit card, handing it over the front desk to the visibly uncomfortable man standing there.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, the muscles in your arms starting to burn from the weight of your travel bag.

Michael, having apparently lost interest in your parents’ altercation, suddenly turned back to face you. “You think I’ll be able to pass for over 21 at the hotel bar?”

Before you could respond, your father was making his way over to you, brandishing two key cards in either hand. “We decided it’d be best for all of us if you and Michael had your own room. You guys don’t mind, do you?”

He handed you a card, and as you looked it over, you tried your hardest not to pay any attention to Michael.

It was truly astounding how clueless everyone seemed to be in regards to your relationship (if you could call it that) with your stepbrother, but you definitely weren’t complaining. Just the thought of having a room all to yourselves was enough to make your heart race.

“Of course we don’t mind,” you said with a smile.

“Just— y’know. Miriam and I have some things we need to work out, and, well, I don’t want you guys swept up in any of the drama,” said your father.

“Totally understandable, dad,” said Michael, beaming as he snaked his free arm around your shoulders. “I’m sure we’ll be able to manage. What do you think, (y/n)?”

Michael widened his eyes at you, the contorted features of his porcelain face dripping with faux-innocence.

“Yeah, I think so,” you said, tone cheerful and sweet.

In unison, you and Michael looked away from one another and back to your father. His eyes were shadowed with deep rings, and he looked more like he was about to head off to a 9-to-5 shift at a dead-end job rather than a vacation with his family. “You kids be good, all right?”

“Don’t worry,” you said, ripples of electricity making their way up your spine as Michael lightly stroked your shoulder with his calloused fingertips. “We will.”

ii.

“Room number 69, huh?” Michael said with a quirk of his eyebrow, licking his lips as he plucked the key card from your hand and slid it into its designated slot by the door. “It’s like they knew we were gonna be staying here.”

“You are eighteen years old,” you said in a monotone, though secretly Michael’s immature sense of humor and silliness were qualities that never failed in making your heart swell.

There was a subtle beep as the light next to the slot flickered green, and Michael pushed open the door with one shoulder, the other occupied with his bag. “How fucking awesome is this?”

You followed him into the modestly-sized room, discarding your bag at the end of one of the two pristinely made beds. Michael did the same, and without even giving you time to settle into your new surroundings, he pushed you firmly up against the nearest empty wall.

Even despite the fact that he’d been sitting in a hot car for several hours (unsurprisingly, your father was very stingy with the air conditioning), Michael still managed to smell good; the intoxicating mixture of his shampoo, paired alongside his boyish deodorant and woodsy cologne, was dizzying from such a close proximity.

“You didn’t waste any time,” you chuckled, cheeks flushing as he began to pepper kisses along your neck and behind your ear, lifting one hand to brush your hair over your shoulder.

“Why would I?” he said, his voice low and seductive. He took a moment to playfully nip at your earlobe, and you squealed, wrapping your arms around him so you could pull his firm torso closer to yours. “What else are you supposed to do when you’re left all alone with such a pretty girl?”

As much as you weren’t willing to admit it, your heart soared at this validation- Michael thought you were a pretty girl. Those words, coming from that perfect mouth, made you feel a childish sense of giddiness, gave you butterflies in the pit of your stomach like an innocent playground crush.

Michael wandered one hand up over the curve of your hip and onto your waist, lips still moving open-mouthed against your jugular and around to the front of your throat. Reaching up to the back of Michael’s head, you took a fistful of butterscotch-colored hair at the root, using it to guide him back towards your face. Then you kissed him, hard and passionate, your fingers threading easily through his waves as his tongue slipped past yours and into your mouth.

Ding!

You assumed Michael’s phone had just gone off, but neither of you paid it any mind, your breath hitching as Michael slid one veined hand up under your tank top to grope your left breast.

Ding!

“My pretty baby sis,” Michael breathed, swollen mouth slick with saliva. Panting softly, he continued to ignore his phone, tugging his t-shirt over his head and tossing it behind him haphazardly.

With his upper body exposed to you now, you took the opportunity to trace your fingers down the length of his subtly defined abs, stopping just beneath his navel. Just below that, after the cute trail of fuzzy blond hair that paved the way to his v-line, was the low-hanging waistband of his gray sweatpants; you hooked your fingers there, just barely pulling the fabric down as you eyed the mouthwatering bulge prominent in the front of his pants.

You couldn’t help yourself- biting your lower lip, you brought your hand between Michael’s legs and grasped his semi-erect length through the soft material of his pants.

Ding! Ding!

Michael hissed, but he seemed to be somewhat distracted now; you knit your eyebrows as he twisted around to face the source of the interruption- his phone, which he’d left on one of the beds.

Ding!

“What is that?” you asked, frowning. It wasn’t often that Michael tolerated anything getting in the way of his hookups, so you found it mildly concerning when he broke away from you entirely to go and grab his phone.

His tongue poked out of the corner of his lips as he looked at his screen, and you could tell that he was stifling a smirk. “Oh. Uh, it’s nothing.”

You moved from your place against the wall, approaching Michael with your arms crossed in front of your chest. Sure, maybe it was none of your business, seeing that you weren’t Michael’s girlfriend or anything, but he’d piqued your curiosity.

Ding! Ding! Michael fumbled with the phone for a second before turning it on silent.

You cocked your head to one side. “No really, what is that?”

Michael had hidden his phone behind his back now, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet.

“I told you, it’s nothing.”

Okay, now you had to know.

“C’mon, lemme see,” you said, trying your hardest not to sound upset. Why were you upset, anyway? You reached around Michael to take his phone from his hand, which, surprisingly, he allowed you to do without much protest.

You looked down at his phone, jaw dropping as you began reading over the several notifications stretching down the length of his screen.

NEW MATCH! With Sofi

NEW MATCH! With Katherine

NEW MATCH! With Kristen

NEW MATCH! With Mallory

NEW MATCH! With Caitlin

NEW MATCH! With Anna

Your eyes flickered up to Michael’s face, down to the phone screen, and then back again, unsure of how exactly you were supposed to react to such a discovery. Michael just offered you a sheepish shrug, somehow only pissing you off further, and angrily you shoved his phone back into his hands.

“Are you fucking kidding? We’ve been here for less than an hour and you’re already trying to find hoes on Tinder?”

“Well, I mean, that’s one way to put it,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wanted to see what kind of girls live around here, I swear. I wasn’t actually gonna-“

“-Whatever,” you mumbled, bending over to unzip your travel bag. It wasn’t like you had any sort of right to be pissed- Michael could do what he wanted, and if what he wanted was to hook up with random Tinder girls, then so be it. Still, though, you couldn’t help but feel a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You rifled around in your bag until you came upon the neat ziploc bag full of travel-sized shower essentials, which you tucked under your arm. “I’m gonna go take a shower. I feel gross.”

“Wait, (y/n). Are you mad at me?” You weren’t sure if he actually cared about hurting your feelings, or if he was worried that you wouldn’t want to fuck him anymore; either way, you didn’t think right now was the best of times to be honest about your feelings.

“Why would I be mad at you?” Your voice sounded dangerously close to breaking, and you knew it (and so did Michael, most likely).

“Well… I dunno. You seemed pretty pissed just now.”

“No, no. Do whatever you want. Fuck as many Tinder girls as your heart desires. It’s not like we’re exclusive.” You continued to search through your bag, pulling out your pajamas and hair towel and tucking them alongside your shower supplies.

“Someone sounds bitter,” Michael mused, causing you to narrow your eyes at him in a focused, pointed glare.

“I thought it was sort of established already that this-“ he motioned at himself, and then to you- “isn’t gonna go anywhere. So I don’t really see the harm in looking around.”

Instantly, you felt a lump form in the back of your throat.

He was right. You’d even said it yourself, that nothing good would ever become of this thing you had with Michael; as much as you wanted it to, it was impossible. So why did it hurt so bad to hear it coming from him?

“Which is why I’m not mad,” you said, swallowing thickly. “Do what you want. I don’t care.”

But, like the cliché you were, you did care. Thinking of Michael with anyone else made you feel sick to your stomach. But what were you supposed to do about it? You were his stepsister.

God, if only things had been different. If only the universe hadn’t brought you together in the most inconvenient and unconventional of ways.

You turned on your heels, leaving Michael behind as you made your way to the bathroom without another word.

Once you’d started the shower and adjusted the temperature, you stripped down, catching a glimpse in the mirror of the many marks adorning your body that Michael had left behind at some point or another- hickeys (some bright lilac and navy blue, while others were fading shades of yellow and pink, all speckled down your chest and over your breasts), fingerprint-shaped bruises, shallow scratches.

And those were just the physical ways that Michael had marked you; you were sure that if you turned yourself inside out, there would be thousands more markings to be found.

You thought maybe this was exactly what you needed right now: a long, hot shower to clear your head. Maybe, if the mood struck, you’d even cry a little bit, just to get your emotions in order.

You stepped into the shower, flinching at the intensity of the stream as it cascaded relentlessly over your body. Shutting your eyes, you ran your palms over your face, skin prickling at the pleasant warmth of the water. After you’d allowed your hair to get sufficiently soaked, you reached for your travel-sized bottle of shampoo, squirting some of the coconut-scented gel into your hand and working up a lather.

You were halfway through your usual hair-washing routine when you heard the bathroom door open; you opened one eye, hardly wider than a squint, to see a tall, blond-haired figure through the steamy glass shower door entering the bathroom. Though the thick layer of steam on the door heavily obscured the intruder, you were still able to see that whoever had entered was butt fucking naked.

Fucking Michael.

There was a metallic squeak as the shower door slid open, revealing an image to you that must’ve been hand-delivered by an angel. There, in all his naked glory, stood Michael, one hand positioned by his side and the other gripping his impressively hard cock.

It was a miracle you didn’t slip and crack your skull open right then.

“Hey,” said Michael coolly, a smug smirk appearing on his lips when he noticed you staring at his length.

“Michael, what are you doing?” you asked, attempting to sound just a little less eager than you were feeling. You tilted your head back, quickly washing away the excess shampoo in your hair, and as you did this, Michael joined you in the shower.

“Saving water,” Michael replied, pulling the door shut and enclosing the two of you within the stream.

“How environmentally friendly of you.”

“Aww, are you still mad at me?” You tensed as he grabbed your hips and brought you closer to him, the head of his cock brushing your stomach and sending chills throughout your body.

“I was never mad at you,” you said flatly. You kept rinsing your hair, refusing to give Michael the attention he clearly was so desperately seeking (not yet, at least).

“You were a little jealous though, weren’t you?” he teased, squeezing your tits without warning and making you jump. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ve already told you before that your pussy is my favorite.”

“I was never worried,” you snapped, but you couldn’t deny the arousal that immediately resulted from Michael’s words.

“Whatever you say, baby,” said Michael, spinning you around so that your back was pressed against his bare chest. You shivered at the feeling of his big cock on your ass, and all at once, whatever snarky comeback you’d been formulating disintegrated into nothingness.

Your eyes fell shut as Michael’s hands traveled over your body, his touch gentle but still possessive; he stopped at your tits, kneading the smooth peaks in both hands until they stung, kissing your shoulder when you squirmed at the slight discomfort. “Just relax and let your big brother take care of you.”

He retrieved your body wash off the ledge in the shower, gathering some in his palms and returning his attention to your tits. You leaned back, resting the back of your head on his broad shoulder as he began rubbing the body wash all over you (mainly focusing on your breasts, because what else would you expect from Michael Langdon?).

His slippery hands felt like heaven on your tits, pinching and toying with your nipples just the way you liked. It wasn’t until his hand began dipping lower, though, that your breath caught in your throat.

His fingers trailed past your stomach and down to cup your cunt, goosebumps erupting across your skin as he hummed in your ear. Your entire body reacted to his touch, muscles tightening and thighs trembling, hips rolling back so you could better feel his deliciously thick cock against your back.

“You like that? Like how I touch you?” he murmured, his words reverberating against your throat and igniting a fresh wave of arousal between your legs.

With one hand, he used his fingers to splay apart your outer lips, gathering some of your wetness by stroking up and down your slit while his other hand worked at your tits. A familiar heat began to spread from behind your navel, and paired with the near-scalding warmth and great pressure of the shower stream, you felt your head start to spin.

You laid your head back on Michael’s shoulder, trusting him to keep you balanced as you reclined limply against him. His fingers moved upwards again, using the sticky arousal on the tips of his fingers to massage slow, lazy circles over your aching bud; you let out a gravelly moan just as Michael administered a sharp pinch to your hardened nipple.

“Fuck, Michael… feels so good.”

You were well past the point of preserving your pride, bucking your hips against Michael’s hand while trying to squeeze your thighs shut around it, keeping him close to you.

“Hm? Is that right? You like when I touch your pussy?” His voice was husky, rich and warm like a roll of tropical thunder; swallowing noisily, you bobbed your head up and down in agreement.

Garnering what little energy you had left, you extended your arm behind you, spreading your fingers in search of Michael’s erection; tongue darting out to wet your chapped lips at the feeling of his stiff, smooth skin, you followed the slightly jutting vein that wound up the side of his length, stopping at the head of his cock and running your thumb over his leaking slit.

He groaned at the sensation, encouraging you on. You returned your hand to the base of his cock, grazing your fingers along his sensitive balls before taking a firm hold of his shaft, pumping your fist up and down his length with as much vigor as you could manage.

“Fuck,” he grunted, and although he now had the added task of awaiting his own impending orgasm alongside bringing you to yours, his fingers did not falter between your legs. Every throaty groan passing his lips seemed to drive his fingers into more of a frenzy, forming fast, sloppy shapes on your aching bud until you were crying out.

“That’s a good- fuck- girl. Keep jerking your big brother’s cock, just like that. Feels so fucking good,” he breathed against your skin, making you shiver even despite the heavy, humid warmth of the bathroom. You could no longer see anything through the glass door, which had become entirely overtaken with thick fog; for a moment you felt like this was the only place on earth that existed- a closed-off world of steam and water and porcelain made just for you and Michael.

With your eyes shut tight as the coil in your belly prepared to snap, all you could do was listen to the melodic blend of sounds enveloping the small space and attempt to move your body in time with the makeshift rhythm. Not one sound fell upon deaf ears- you were hyper-aware of every vulgar, human noise; every breath and every moan; every squeak of wet feet on the slick white floor.

This might be the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard, you thought.

“Fuck, Michael— more.” Stretching your other arm back to desperately grab at Michael’s damp mop of waves, you allowed yourself to come undone, arching your back so your erect nipples were pointed up towards the ceiling.

Michael brought his free hand away from your breasts, instead using it to brace himself against the shower door, creating a hand-shaped imprint in the steam that immediately began to drip with condensation.

Without thinking, you let go of Michael’s hair to join his hand on the glass; lacing your fingers through his, you worked at his cock with your opposite hand until his breaths grew ragged and choppy- a sure-fire sign that he was about to cum.

“Fuck, (y/n), keep going,” he moaned breathlessly, pressing his thumb harshly against your clit and nearly causing your knees to buckle underneath you. “Gonna- fuck.”

His cock twitched in your hand, and with that, he was cumming, shooting his thick load all over your ass and lower back. Miraculously, even as he recovered from his orgasm, he still continued to touch you; his fingers were like magic on your clit, and within a matter of seconds, you, too, were being sent over the edge.

“Oh god, Michael—“

Even during an earth-shattering orgasm like the one you were experiencing, you still were able to notice the way that Michael had switched spots on the glass with you, his large hand enclosing around yours and squeezing.

He didn’t remove his hand from between your thighs until you were twitching and overstimulated, and once he did, he pulled you into a hug, his strong arms cradling you against his chest.

Your eyes fluttered open and shut again, like a person caught between life and death, when he planted a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m never gonna find anyone else like you,” he said, hardly louder than a whisper. You weren’t sure whether it was a reassurance to you, or a solemn statement of distress.

Either way, you swore you could hear something like sadness behind his words.

iii.

Since Miriam and your father were too preoccupied with their arguing to arrange any family excursions, you and Michael were left to your own devices.

Those next few days in Florida, your life was about as close to a teen romance movie as it could get. You and Michael spent the days exploring the nearby towns, trying out restaurants (it’d taken a startlingly long while for you to convince Michael to try out one of the local cafés for breakfast instead of McDonald’s, which had been his original idea) and going shopping; on one occasion, you shared a joint with Michael before dragging him to the local aquarium, which he’d pretended to be entirely disinterested in (even though you could see the wonder and fear in his eyes whilst staring at the shark exhibit- what would happen if the glass broke? he’d asked, nervously drumming his fingers on the paneling as a particularly large shark swam by).

You shared ice cream with him on the boardwalk, licking the chocolate soft serve that had melted off the cone and onto Michael’s hand off his fingers; you rubbed sunscreen on each other at the beach (although Michael wasn’t nearly as thorough as you were, and most of the time you’d wind up with a nasty sunburn thanks to his negligence); you bought 99-cent popsicles from a vendor, making out with cherry-stained lips while the sun went down.

At night, you’d sit on the beach, sometimes stoned, talking and laughing as the waves rolled in and out on the shore.

It was 3 am on your last night in Florida, and you and Michael had snuck out of the hotel room and walked down to the beach, large checkered blanket and a bottle of red wine in tow (Michael had charmed the woman behind the counter in a sketchy liquor store in order to obtain this). You were sitting side-by-side, thoughts clouded from the effects of the alcohol with your knees drawn to your chest, when a sudden realization washed upon you like one of the rumbling waves breaking against the shore.

You were in love with Michael Langdon.

This was an unwavering, undeniable fact; you were in love with him. You loved him, even the parts of him that, at one point, you had hated. The realization was both peaceful and upsetting.

“Michael,” you said, huddling closer to yourself as a cool breeze cut through the night. What were you going to say to him? You couldn’t very well tell him about the epiphany you’d just had- he’d been on Tinder just a few days ago, for god’s sake. But, still, you felt compelled to say something.

“Hmm?” He stretched out his legs, running his palms up and down his sand-covered calves. In the darkness, you could hardly make out the features of his face, save for the sparkling reflection in his eyes as he looked out towards the ocean.

You licked your lips, taking a swig from the half-empty bottle of wine that had been positioned upright in the sand. You winced at the bittersweet taste washing over your tongue, the blood-colored liquid sloshing noisily against its glass confines as you brought it back down to your side.

“I don’t know,” you said, suddenly feeling stupid. “It’s just- I don’t want this all to be over.”

“Me either,” he said, putting his arm around you and drawing you closer to him. You inhaled sharply, breathing in the scent of wine and stale cigarettes and salt water like it was oxygen and you’d just been saved from drowning. “I didn’t think I would, but I had a really great time this week.”

You shook your head. “I’m not just talking about this week. I just mean in general. I feel like it’s all ending so soon.”

“Oh.” He took in a breath, an especially large wave hitting the shore with a startling crash. “God, this fucking sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Michael, I-“ I love you. The remaining words settled on the back of your tongue, refusing to roll off, but perhaps it was for the better. “-I think in another life, we could’ve worked out. Could’ve been something more than what we are. You know?”

If only, if only, if fucking only.

“Lucky us, being born in the universe where we’re fucking step siblings,” Michael laughed, but there was a deep sadness in his voice that you’d never heard before. “But, (y/n). Even though shit isn’t working out the way we wanted it to, and even though it’s gonna hurt when we both go away to college, I’m still so glad that I met you.”

“I’m glad I met you, too.”

There was only silence for a long moment as Michael reached for the wine bottle and took an indulgent sip. “There’s so much shit I wish could’ve been different,” he said finally, angling his head up towards the velvet blackness of the night sky. “I wish I’d treated you differently. I wish I hadn’t been so fucking scared of feeling something.”

You ran your fingers through the soft sand, forming meaningless patterns there as you listened to Michael open up for what felt like the first time since you’d met him.

“I used to lie awake at night and think of how fucking unfair this all is. That the one girl I’ve ever really wanted is the one girl I can’t have. I used to think if maybe I pushed you away, treated you like shit, that everything would hurt less. But it just hurt me more, seeing you in pain from the shit I put you through. And now I realize that it’s all gonna hurt the same either way. ‘Cause I’ll never have you the way I want.”

You felt a well-known pinching behind your eyes, and you blinked, silently willing away the tears that were threatening to escape. You kept your eyes on the drawings you’d made in the ground, knowing that if you were to look into Michael’s eyes, you’d probably break.

“What’s gonna happen to us, Michael? We can’t just wait for each other while we’re away at college and miss out on life. But god, I wanna be with you,” you said, voice quivering.

“I don’t know,” he said softly, shaking his head. “I say we just…live our lives. And if it’s meant to be, it will be. One day.”

You nodded, dragging your fingers through the sand and destroying the mindless spirals and swirls you’d formed. “One day.”

“But enough with all that sad shit,” said Michael, taking your chin in hand and moving it so you were looking at him. “What’s important is that we have each other right now. So let’s make the most of that, hm?”

The look in Michael’s eyes told you right away what he meant by making the most of your time together; your cheeks were hot, prickling from the red wine, fingertips burning to touch something. So you did- you grabbed the front of Michael’s shirt, yanking him towards you and placing a haphazard, open-mouthed kiss on his lips.

The kiss was aggressive and feverish; it didn’t take long for Michael to lay you down on the checkered blanket, his hands wandering your body like it belonged to him (and, in a way, it did).

When Michael broke away to catch his breath, panting, you decided to try something new: with all the strength you could muster, you pushed Michael off of you and promptly rolled on top of him instead, straddling him with your knees on either side of his torso.

In the faint glow of the silvery moonlight, you could see an indistinct smirk playing at his lips; it wasn’t often that you were the one to take control, but it was obvious, from the growing protrusion in the front of his pants, that he liked the change.

You leaned down to reattach your lips to his, hips rocking back and forth over his bulge until the friction sent shock waves up your spine. With you bent forward, Michael was easily able to slide his veined hands up the back of your short skirt, taking two greedy fistfuls of your ass.

Almost frantically, you tore your shirt off over your head, not bothering to worry about where it landed. Now, the only thing separating your breasts from the nighttime air was a thin lace bralette, which Michael took to palming you through.

“Fuck, (y/n),” murmured Michael, rolling one of your hardened nipples between two fingers. “You have seriously got the best tits.”

“Yeah? You think so?” you said, a twinge of playful mocking to your voice; you wrapped your fingers around Michael’s wrists, maneuvering them so that both his hands were fondling your breasts.

“Fuck yeah, I think so,” he said, and you only wished there was just a bit more light so you could properly admire him in his disheveled, lustful state.

“Even better than those girls on Tinder you matched with?” you taunted, grinding your hips down hard against Michael’s erection. “I wonder what they’d think about all the times you’ve been balls deep in your stepsister.”

At this, he tightened his grip on your tits, twisting them almost painfully before hoisting up the thin fabric of your bralette so your nipples were exposed. You helped him in removing the garment, pulling it off and throwing it alongside your shirt, never once ceasing the motion of your hips against his clothed, twitching cock.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” Michael said, running his thumbs over your nipples. “Otherwise I’d take you over my lap and spank your ass raw for being such a little bitch.”

“And you’re lucky you have a big dick,” you shot back, words catching in your throat when he tugged hard on one of your nipples. “Otherwise I never would’ve given your fuckboy ass the time of day.”

This was a lie, of course, but your lighthearted tone of voice was enough to let him know that you were only messing around.

Michael scoffed. “No, I think you’re the one who’s lucky that I have a big dick, considering that you’re a total fucking cock-hungry slut.”

You stifled a laugh. Well, he’s not wrong.

“Is that a complaint?” you said, lips quirking as you scooted your body slightly downward, giving yourself room to pull Michael’s now-fully hard cock out. Sinking your teeth into your lower lip, you took the pulsing length in hand, moving your thin panties to the side and repositioning yourself so that the head of Michael’s cock was nestled just barely against your entrance.

Michael shook his head rapidly, a throaty grunt passing his lips. “Obviously- fuck- not.”

It was almost amusing to you, the way you and Michael had gone from having a heartfelt conversation to teasing each other relentlessly, but you supposed that was what you loved about your dynamic anyway. Unable to hold off any longer, you guided Michael’s cock inside you, gliding down easily on his length until he was fully seated inside. Your mouth fell open, and as you began to properly ride him, he brought his hands to grip your hips with a tight, bruising hold.

“Fuck, Michael,” you sighed, tits bouncing as you rolled your hips forward, increasing your momentum. Michael slid one hand from your hip to your inner thigh, pinching the tender skin before bringing his thumb to your clit and rubbing firm circles over it.

A pleasant, salt water-scented breeze passed by as you rode Michael, further disheveling your hair, which you ran your fingers through; the lewd noises of your body connecting with Michael’s were overtaken by the unmistakable sounds of the tide.

“Good girl, riding my cock so fucking good,” Michael breathed, lifting up his free hand so he could push two fingers into your mouth. Your eyelids fluttered at the salt of his skin, lips instinctively wrapping around his calloused digits and sucking.

Swirling your tongue over Michael’s fingers, you continued riding him, swaying your hips in figure-eight motions; the thick girth of his cock stretched your tight walls, and from this angle, you could practically feel him in your stomach.

The pad of Michael’s thumb pressed against your clit again, and as electric pleasure rippled up your spine, it took everything inside you not to cum right then and there. Your pussy was clenching tight around him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let go—you didn’t want to be apart from him. Not yet.

For a second, you could see every contoured feature of Michael’s face illuminated in the pale light of the moon, the exaggerated shadows and highlights coming together to form an image that was almost otherworldly. His eyes were droopy-lidded, so much so that you might’ve thought his eyes were shut if it weren’t for the glint of his pupils; he’d sucked his full lower lip into his mouth, nibbling on the rosy pink flesh as he admired your curved, supple figure on top of him.

I love him, you thought, matter-of-fact, as he pulled his spit-soaked fingers from your mouth and dragged them down between your tits, leaving a shiny trail of saliva in their wake.

I love him, you thought, bowing your body forward to kiss him hungrily, moaning into his mouth as you hurried your pace on his cock.

I love him.

Why the fuck did you have to love him? It wasn’t fair. Your insides churned with jealousy at the thought of all the other teenage girls who were currently experiencing their first love; you thought of the constant Instagram posts of girls in new, happy relationships, the public displays of affection against lockers between classes. Those things, so seemingly insignificant, would never become a part of your reality (or at least not any reality involving Michael).

In another life you’d have Michael over for dinner to meet your father, holding his hand under the table when you’d notice his thigh jiggling anxiously. You’d kiss him freely without the underlying fear, swirling deep in the pit of your belly, that someone might catch you. You’d be his prom date, match your gown to his bow tie and take awkward pictures with him, his strong arms holding you from behind.

In another life, things would be normal. In another life, you and Michael would be happy together.

“(Y/n),” groaned Michael; the sound of his raspy voice calling your name was enough to send you over the edge, bracing your tense body with one hand next to his head as you rode out your orgasm.

You were able to move even faster now, both of his hands holding your ass as you leaned far enough forward that you could bury your head in his neck. The feeling of his cock pulsing inside of you was almost too much now that you’d orgasmed, but you didn’t stop, eager to witness Michael drift into his own realm of bliss.

“Fuck—“ was all that could leave Michael’s lips before he came, using your ass to hold you in place as he spilled his warm load inside of you. You didn’t move, keeping your face by his neck so you could listen to him catch his breath.

When you finally picked yourself up, Michael looked down to his shoulder and furrowed his eyebrows. “Were you just crying?”

Fuck. Yes, yes you were. Tears had apparently leaked from the corners of your eyes without you realizing, wetting his neck and the cotton fabric of his t-shirt. You said nothing, pulling off him to retrieve the clothing articles that you’d discarded in the sand earlier.

“Just a little,” you said, embarrassed, shaking the sand off your bralette and putting it on. “Red wine makes me angsty.”

“Oh.” There was a pregnant pause as Michael cleared his throat. “C’mon, (y/n), it’s not so bad.”

There was wavering uncertainty veiled beneath the confidence of his words, and you could tell he was trying to convince himself of this sentiment just as much as he was trying to convince you. Your back was to him as you slipped your shirt over your head, willing yourself not to start crying again.

“(Y/n)?”

His hand was on your back, the tips of his fingers circling lightly over the fabric of your shirt. You turned to face him, slowly. “Yes?”

“I…” He halted for a moment, contemplating something. “I really, really like you. More than I’ve ever liked anyone before.”

“I really, really like you too.” Somewhere, a chorus of crickets were unknowingly performing a custom symphony for your own teen romance movie moment. Michael took your hand in his, lacing his long fingers through yours, and you swallowed.

He looked down at your joined hands, an almost solemn look on his face. “Just. I don’t want you to forget, all right? No matter what happens.”

No matter what happens. You didn’t want to think of what he could mean by that.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered, as if to shield your words from the ocean’s prying ears. “I won’t forget.”

And that, you knew, was an irrefutable fact.

iv.

Late August hit you like a truck, coming by so unexpectedly that you thought surely you’d been caught in some kind of time slip. Your college move-in date was a week before Michael’s, and so Michael had spent the days leading up to your departure helping you pack (he’d also, of course, made plenty of time for “breaks” throughout the process, one of which consisted of you being fucked on the floor amidst the vast array of brown moving boxes).

Your bedroom was now a shell of what it’d once been- the comfortable teenage clutter you’d been so accustomed to was now gone, and you’d finally gotten around to throwing out the pictures and stickers you’d had on your wall since freshman year. It was depressing, hollow.

On the morning of your move-in date, your father helped you bring your belongings to the car and load the trunk. The car ride was going to be fairly long, and you were dreading it, especially since Michael wasn’t coming along. He had his own matters to attend to, what with his own move-in date creeping near, and the car would be far too crowded with all your things there anyway.

You were scheduled to leave at 9, and downstairs you could hear your father and Miriam shuffling around as they prepared for the trip. You sat at the edge of your bed, surrounded by the pale purple sheets you’d had for as long as you could remember, idly scraping the toe of your sneaker back and forth along the wooden floor.

You weren’t ready to say goodbye to all of this, but when had you ever been ready for anything life had thrown your way? You hadn’t been ready to fall in love with your stepbrother, and yet that had happened all the same.

From across the hall, Michael’s bedroom door cracked open, and out he came in his flannel sleep pants and plain white t-shirt (which now perfectly complemented the slight summertime hue of bronze to his skin), blond hair in beautiful disarray. Your heart ached- you were going to miss seeing him in the morning, all sleepy and soft, voice pitched lower than usual from sleep.

You recalled all the times you’d passed him as he stood at the counter in the bathroom, brushing his teeth; he’d look at you with a lazy half-smile, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, his elbows resting on the edge of the sink. He always looked so handsome even when he wasn’t trying, a quality you almost envied him for.

He noticed you watching him from the corner of your bed as he approached the doorway, waving at you as he balanced his shoulder against the frame.

“‘Morning,” he said, his bleary-eyed gaze meeting yours. He looked tired, dark rings prevalent beneath his crystal blue eyes, and you briefly wondered if he’d gotten much sleep the night before. “You should be grateful that I got up at the ass crack of dawn to say goodbye to you.”

“The ass crack of dawn? Michael, it’s 8:45,” you said, and if you really tried, you could almost pretend that this was a regular conversation between the two of you, and not the very last time you’d be interacting face-to-face until November.

“Yeah, well, 8:45 is the ass crack of dawn to me,” he said, and you stood up, meeting him halfway in the middle of your barren room. He flashed you a grin, but there wasn’t much happiness behind it, and you could see that he was… uncomfortable? Sad? Angry?— you couldn’t quite tell— from the way he’d folded his arms in front of his stomach. “So yeah. I, uh, wanted to say goodbye. And also remind you not to fuck too many frat guys. You could, like, catch something.”

“I’ll try not to, but I can’t promise anything,” you joked, following the sentence with a forced-sounding chuckle. “Bye, Michael.”

You stepped forward, winding your arms around Michael’s waist and placing your head against his chest; you could just barely hear his heart beating, the warmth of his skin touching your cheek even through the fabric of his t-shirt.

“I’m gonna miss you,” he murmured, his chin resting on the top of your head, strong arms holding you to him in an unyielding embrace. “So much.”

There were too many things you wanted to say, racing through your mind so quickly that it’d be impossible to articulate them aloud. Instead, you let out a shaky sigh, eyes falling shut as you tried your hardest to immerse yourself completely in Michael’s touch. Sometimes, there didn’t need to be any words for you to understand each other.

“Don’t be sad about this, (y/n). When you’re at college, you’re gonna meet so many guys who are so much better than I am. And you’re gonna wonder why you ever were hung up on a dumbass like me.” His tone was lighthearted, but you knew better than to really believe that he was unbothered. “But I don’t think I’ll ever find someone better than you. I’m so fucking lucky that you gave me as many chances as you did. I didn’t deserve them.”

“You’re wrong,” you said, pulling away so you could look pointedly into Michael’s eyes. God, his eyes were beautiful, and you drank in the moment, knowing this was your last chance to really look into them face-to-face. “I gave you those chances because even though you acted like a total fucking asshole, I still knew there was good in you. I could just… feel it.”

He cocked an eyebrow skepticall y. “No, you gave me all those second chances because I give good head and have a big dick.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, maybe those were contributing factors, but they weren’t the only reasons I stuck around.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he said, licking his lips and settling his hands on your hips. “For the record, your pussy really is my favorite. Like, I wasn’t just saying that.”

“I’m honored.”

The interaction was cut short by the sound of your father calling you from downstairs, indicating that it was time to leave, and your heart sank deep into your stomach. Standing up on the tips of your toes, you planted a chaste kiss on his lips before hurrying out into the hall, waving over your shoulder as you went.

“Bye, (y/n),” Michael said, not moving from where he stood in your bedroom. He’d dug his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, shoulders slumped forward as he watched you go. For a moment, you wished you’d hugged him for longer. “See you in November.”

“See you,” you called back, imitating nonchalance to the best of your ability, only averting your gaze when you felt tears wobbling along your waterline, threatening to overflow and spill down your cheeks.

In that last moment before you turned, you could almost swear that he had tears in his eyes, too.

When you finally made your way up those familiar porch steps again, the November air chilling you slightly even despite the thick sweater you wore, you felt like an entirely different person.

Those first few months of college had been a blur; your life was far more interesting than it’d ever been while you were in high school (if you didn’t count the whole ‘fucking your stepbrother’ thing), with a surplus of boys at your disposal at all times. You’d gotten perhaps a bit carried away with the dating and partying and hookups, but you figured you were simply making up for all the experiences you’d missed out on in high school.

Michael was a thought that you trained yourself to keep tucked away. During those first few weeks, you’d spent several nights crying yourself to sleep, the stiff dorm room bed so uninviting compared to the way Michael’s arms had always felt around you. At parties, you’d scan the crowds for boys with blond hair and blue eyes, hoping that one of them could temporarily stand in for Michael during your time away from him. None of them fulfilled the requirements, of course- you’d come to realize early on that nobody was quite as good as Michael Langdon. It took a while for you to stop searching for Michael in every boy you became acquainted with, but with practice, you became rather skilled in the art of forgetting.

You and Michael kept in contact, albeit only sometimes. His messages to you were comprised mainly of memes he’d found on Instagram that he thought you’d appreciate, along with the occasional drunk text late at night (‘Cna you send me a pci of your tits/??? Lmfao’ was one of your favorite messages from him that you’d received thus far). It made you feel special to know that he was thinking of you, even despite being surrounded by girls like you assumed he probably was.

You tried not to think of him too much, though- you knew you’d drive yourself crazy if you did.

When Thanksgiving time rolled around, you were confronted with the fact that you’d be seeing Michael again for the first time in months, a prospect that ignited your nerves far more than you were willing to admit. As excited as you were to see him, you also couldn’t help but worry: what if he announced that he’d found a girlfriend? What if he wasn’t attracted to you anymore? What if you weren’t attracted to him anymore?

It probably would be easier for the both of you if things played out that way, but you didn’t want things to be easy. It was unrealistic, but part of you was praying that things would be exactly as they were before you’d gone away.

Your hand trembled a bit as you raised it to the doorbell, and you braced yourself before jamming your finger into the button. From inside the house, you heard the muffled, off-key tone as it resounded throughout the upstairs area, followed by bounding footsteps down the stairs that you pinpointed as belonging to your father.

The front swung open and there was your father, a wide smile stretched across his face as he ushered you inside, taking it upon himself to bring in your travel bag for you. “(Y/n)! Finally! How was the train ride?”

“Not bad,” you said as he pulled you into a hug. As soon as you were apart, you started up the stairs, your pulse quickening as you came closer and closer to the moment you’d been anticipating for months. “Did Michael get back already?”

“Yeah, about an hour ago.”

Your heart skipped at this revelation; your legs couldn’t bring you to the top of the stairs fast enough, and, sensing your heightened enthusiasm, your father chuckled from behind you. “Hey, hold on a second. I haven’t seen you in months.”

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” you said breathlessly, the rubber soles of your sneakers making noisy contact with the wooden upstairs floor. You supposed that maybe you should’ve spent more time greeting your father, but you could no longer contain yourself- you needed to see Michael.

Leaving your bag at the top of the stairs, you hurried to the hallway where your bedrooms were located, unable to stifle your eagerness. You felt like a starved animal, finally being presented with food by a pair of benevolent hands, and you were ready to devour.

You didn’t bother knocking on Michael’s door when you approached it, bursting in with such force that you stumbled over your feet. The room was dim, what with the blinds being open so only a few rays of late-afternoon sunlight could peek through; seated in front of his once-cluttered empty desk, now occupied only by a laptop, was Michael, massive headphones positioned over his ears as he fixated on whatever stupid game he was currently playing (does he still play fortnite? you wondered).

The sound of your intrusion was loud enough to catch his attention, and as his head turned from his computer screen to your face, something shifted in his eyes. Immediately, he tore off his headphones, jumping to his feet so abruptly that they clattered to the ground. “Holy fuck, (y/n).”

It was evident, from the way you fell easily into his arms, that the attraction hadn’t faded. If anything, the distance apart seemed to have only made the magnetic connection between you grow even stronger.

Your lips clashed together feverishly (you had no idea who had been the one to initiate this— it seemed that you’d both moved in perfect unison into one another), hands wandering freely over each other’s bodies and teeth bumping against teeth. When you broke away, a string of saliva stretching and breaking between your faces, Michael beamed down at you.

The slight layer of baby fat that had once rounded out Michael’s cheeks appeared to have dissipated, his cheekbones even more pronounced than you remembered them being. His sharp jaw was shadowed with the smallest touch of brown stubble, (which you assumed was there because he’d been too lazy to shave), but you thought the more mature look suited him well.

“Jesus, (y/n), I missed you.” His voice was like smooth velvet; you’d inject it into your bloodstream if you could. “You’re even more fucking beautiful than I remembered.”

“Oh, good. I was worried you’d be grossed out by my freshman fifteen,” you laughed.

“Fuck no. The fatter the ass, the better,” he said with a devious smirk, running his long fingers through his overgrown mop of blond hair. He smelled just like you remembered, a mixture of cinnamon gum and cigarettes and cologne (and the faintest hint of marijuana, of course), and you wished you could bottle up his scent and take it with you.

“So you’re still a fuckboy, I see,” you teased, twisting the front of Michael’s t-shirt in your hands and pulling him towards you. “Some things just never change, I guess.”

“Guess not.” He was speaking lowly now, assuming the smooth tone he always used when he was attempting to seduce you, and as if on cue came a dull, throbbing ache between your legs. “I wonder if your pussy is as good as I remember?”

His fingers found their way to the bottom of your sweater, fumbling with the chunky fabric and swiftly maneuvering it off over your head. You mirrored his actions, pulling off his shirt and exposing his torso, pressing your lips back against his with urgency once his upper half had been disrobed.

“Fuck…” you breathed against his parted mouth, palming the growing erection in the front of his pale gray sweatpants (your favorite pair of pants that he owned). “Need you to fuck me, Mikey…”

“Is that right?” He tilted his head to one side, kissing you deeply as he bent his knees, using his own weight as leverage to lift you up. You intertwined your ankles behind Michael’s back, securing your place in his toned arms as he carried you over to his bed; the vulgar, wet sound of your tongues melding together filled the room as he laid you down on his checkered comforter, your legs still wrapped snugly around him. “Did my baby sis miss having her pussy split on her big bro’s cock?”

“Mhm,” you purred; there truly was no man in existence better at dirty talking than Michael. You tensed in excitement when he began fumbling with the top button of your jeans, proceeding to deftly work the form-fitting denim material down your thighs once he’d freed it from its hold. “Can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

Impatiently, you reached between your bodies, your fingers coming upon the thick outline of his bulge as he peppered your throat with sloppy kisses. You moved your hand up to the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging the elastic as far back as you could; this resulted in him chuckling against your flesh, your body erupting in goosebumps at the sensation.

“So needy,” he mumbled, the vibrations of his plump lips traveling straight down to your cunt. “Did you touch yourself when you were away at school, thinking of me? Thinking of how good I touch you, how hard I make you cum?”

“M-Michael,” you whimpered, rolling your hips in melodic time with his, his clothed cock making friction against your thinly veiled pussy. “C’mon, just fuck me already. Please.”

“I like it when you beg,” he said, smug, standing so he could pull down his sweatpants and boxers, putting his long, weighted cock on display for you. You lifted your knees up for him, and in one swift motion he stripped you of your flimsy black thong. “Beg me again.”

You squirmed, sliding your flat palm down your stomach so you could touch yourself between your parted thighs; slowly, you coated your fingers with your own sticky essence, looking up at Michael from under a canopy of thick lashes. “Fuck me, Michael. I need you.”

“Ask nicely,” he chided, hoisting your thigh up to drape around his waist, eyes darkening as he observed your fingers spreading your slick wetness around your folds.

“Pleeaaaaseeee, Mikey,” you pleaded, syllables so drawn out that it almost sounded like you were singing. “It’s been so long.”

“Fuck.” He brought his lower lip into his mouth, sucking for a moment as he lined the flushed head of his cock up with your dripping entrance. When he released it, it was several shades darker than it’d been before, completely swollen and glossy with spit. “I’ve been thinking about this since the last time I saw you.”

Taking a firm grip of your thighs, he slid effortlessly into your tight heat, your jaw unhinging at the intrusion; you’d definitely be feeling him for the next few days, his thick shaft stretching out your narrow walls to the point where it was almost painful. You liked it, though, liked the delicious burn that only he could create, reminding you of who you belonged to.

“Shit,” he hissed, pausing momentarily to compose himself before assuming a deep, hard rhythm to fuck you with. “You’re so fucking tight. Must not’ve fucked anyone as big as me while you were away.”

All you could manage was a broken moan, your head lolling back towards the ceiling. He bottomed out inside you, bringing himself down to press his chest against yours, indulging in the feel of your warm, wet cunt as it spasmed around his massive length. When you started whining for more, he retracted his hips back until only the head of his cock was inside you, slamming back inside so hard that you were sent halfway up the bed.

“Oh god, Michael…” Your fingernails scraped aimlessly along the warm skin of his back, eyelids flickering open and shut in a fucked-out daze. You’d slept with a handful of guys at college, but none of them even came close to fucking you the way Michael did. He was just… special.

Fuck, I love him.

The thought startled you; you’d almost been able to forget about the little epiphany you’d had, that night in Florida when you and Michael sat side-by-side by the ocean. But now that you were with him— under him, taking every last agonizing inch of his cock, it became obvious that those feelings had remained stagnant.

After all the boys you’d been through at college, you still loved him.

God, were you fucked.

“Missed my baby girl so much,” Michael murmured, tucking your hair behind your ear and peering down at you. His forehead was glowing, the sides of his face framed with cute, damp curls of blond hair; he was so beautiful, you thought. How had you survived so long without him?

He impaled you again with a sharp upwards thrust, a string of expletives passing your lips and mixing with the lewd sounds of sex swimming through the air. “I missed you— fuck!— too.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” he said, tucking his head into the crook of your neck and running his tongue along the salty skin. “Your pussy is fucking dripping for me.”

“Keep going,” you panted, wetting your chapped lips; with each brutal thrust of Michael’s cock, you bucked your hips forward to meet him halfway, desperate for all that he had to offer. “Feels so fucking good.”

“Yeah? You like that? Like how I split you open?” His hips pounded against yours with a bruising intensity, his chest pinning you down as you writhed beneath his lean frame. His voice was becoming hoarse, breaths short and choppy, letting you know that he was close.

“Yes, yes, yes, please, more…” Your affirmations were like a prayer, encouraging Michael to fuck you even deeper, his torso making electric contact with your clit as he moved his body in time with yours. “Make me cum, Mikey, please..”

The wind was knocked from your lungs each time he pumped his length into you, and by the time the coil in your stomach was unwinding, you were struggling to catch your breath. You ran your hands through Michael’s sweat-soaked hair, letting the strands stretch around your fingers as you tugged at the root; Your toes curled when Michael administered a particularly hard thrust inside you, your lips falling open in a silent scream; there was a burst of brilliant colors behind your eyelids as you finally reached your climax, your thighs shaking as they clasped firmly around Michael’s waist.

Like a perfect teen-movie cliché, Michael came just as you did; the feeling of his hot load as it spilled deep inside your cunt was a welcomed one, and your spongey inner walls instinctively clamped down, milking his cock for all it was worth.

With a throaty grunt, Michael pulled out of you, his cum dribbling crudely down your inner thigh and onto his bedspread, which he didn’t appear to pay any attention to. Lying down beside you, he sighed, bare chest shining with slick perspiration.

“I missed doing that,” Michael rasped, eyes focused up towards the ceiling rather than on you.

“So did I,” you said, tracing idle patterns along the expanse of Michael’s torso, watching his stomach rise and fall with each breath he took. “I can’t wait to have you all Christmas break.”

Michael’s lips turned downwards at the corners, his eyebrows knitting together in a pained display. “Oh. Yeah.”

It seemed as though he’d wanted to say more, but he pressed his lips shut into a thin line, Adam’s apple bobbing. What the hell? All at once you felt nauseous- there was something about the way he’d said those two words that made you very, very uneasy.

You sat up, your mind already starting to overflow with horrid possibilities. “What, Michael?”

“I, um. I have to tell you something.” Michael’s eyes darted throughout the room before settling on his palms. You frowned, mouth going dry at his apparent reluctance to talk to you, thoughts racing in all directions to try and pinpoint what exactly he might say.

“Michael…”

“So. Um.” He was stalling, extending his arms up so his palms were flat on his forehead, still refusing to look at you as he contemplated his words. “So you remember over the summer when I spilled Red Bull on my laptop?”

You raised an eyebrow. Where exactly was he going with this? “Yeah?”

“And remember how I would borrow my mom’s laptop to play video games while I was waiting for it to get repaired?”

“Yes, I remember. Can you just get to the point?” You were growing impatient, the anxiety increasing with each additional second that Michael continued to leave you in the dark.

“Okay, well…” He inhaled sharply. “I was borrowing her laptop one night and ended up looking at the search history because, well… you can probably guess why. Anyway. I ended up seeing all these searches for, like, new apartments and divorce lawyers.”

Oh shit. Divorce lawyers? Was he about to say what you were thinking he was about to say? “You mean…?”

Michael held up a hand as if to say let me finish, and you held your tongue. “So like, I asked her about it. And she told me that her and your dad are, like, splitting up or whatever. But she told me not to mention anything about it in case they ended up working shit out.”

You didn’t understand— wasn’t this good news? If your parents divorced, wouldn’t you finally be able to be with Michael the way you wanted? You forced down the giddiness that started to bubble up from your stomach and into your throat, knowing that there had to be a catch if Michael was acting so serious.

“So our parents are getting a divorce?”

“Well… there’s more.” He licked his lips, finally gathering the courage to look at you, the expression on his face so grim that it scared you a little. “She found an apartment in California. And she’s moving us there next month.”

California!?

No, this couldn’t be happening. How could this be happening? This was perhaps even worse than the predicament you were already in. If Michael moved to California, it was pretty fucking likely that you’d never see him again.

“I… what? And you’ve known all this for how long!?” Your voice was pitched several octaves higher now, eyes watering uncontrollably, and you felt as though you were on the brink of having a total fucking meltdown.

“I always thought there was a chance they’d get things worked out, or that my mom would change her mind about moving so far away. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I already knew you were sad about us going away to college, so I just thought-”

“-Answer the question, Michael! How long have you known this for?” Hot, angry tears were falling down your face and onto your bare chest, your entire body shaking with an overwhelming mixture of rage and despair.

He sighed. “Since August.”

Your mouth fell open in disbelief. How could he have hidden this from you for so long? “And you never thought to tell me? So I could at least come to terms with the fact that I’ll probably never see you again once you move?”

“I didn’t wanna ruin the rest of our time together,” he said softly, eyes glossy with tears that were still yet to fall. “I fucked up, okay? I should’ve told you as soon as I found out. But I kept thinking that maybe something would change, and…I don’t know. I’m sorry, (y/n).”

“Fuck,” you mumbled. Your limbs felt numb and heavy, your heart hollow. “Why did your mom have to choose fucking California, of all places?”

“I dunno. I think it has to do with this weird religion thing she’s into,” he said. “Look, (y/n), if I had any choice, I’d stay here. But you know I can’t afford my own place right now.”

“I know. It’s just-“ you collapsed backwards, your back making contact with the bed below with a soft thud. “This is so fucking unfair. We’re finally able to be together- like, really be together. But of course there has to be a catch.”

“Remember what I said, (y/n)? How if things are meant to be, they will be?” It sounded to you like Michael was attempting to make sense of a senseless situation, but you let him speak, somewhat comforted by his words. “I only have to stay in California until I can afford my own place. And I’ll still be going to the same college, so we won’t be too far from each other during the school year.”

Your college was a five hour drive away from Michael’s. Would he really be willing to make such a long trip up to see you? Would you be willing to take a trip to see him, with the new knowledge looming on your conscience that he would no longer be an arm’s length away once the school year was up? You wanted to be optimistic, but how could you be? A fresh wave of tears escaped your eyes, blurring your vision, but your cries faded to soft whimpers when Michael pulled you up against his chest.

You tried not to remind yourself of the fact that this would likely be one of the last times you’d be able to feel him there against you, one of the last times you’d absorb the heat from his skin, his distinct scent overtaking you like a natural aphrodisiac, intoxicating you.

You tried to reason with reality: if the universe had tried so hard to keep you apart all this time, maybe you and Michael being together had simply not been written in the stars (or at least that’s what you tried to convince yourself— how could a connection so strong not be meant to be?, you asked yourself dejectedly). The way you felt for Michael was special, unlike anything else you’d ever experienced before. He was a natural high, a gust of fresh springtime air, a golden ray of good in a gray-black world of bad.

But, as the saying went, all good things must come to an end. Don’t they?

Perhaps you’d always known, in the very back of your mind, that things would never work out. Perhaps you’d always known that your heart would wind up broken (no, not broken— incinerated). The cards had never been in your favor, and there had been a hundred million warning signs that you’d blatantly ignored time and time again.

But it hurt.

And you doubted it would ever stop hurting. The pain of losing Michael might one day fade from a stabbing agony to a dull ache, but that initial wound would likely never heal completely.

The only thing left to do now was stay entangled in Michael’s warmth for as long as possible, and make weary peace with the tragic ending your time with Michael had come to.

“If we survived being stepsiblings, we can survive this,” Michael said, his lips against your knotted hair, firm arms holding your naked body with a delicate tenderness that you weren’t used to. “You know that when I want something, I make sure that I get it. And what I want, (y/n), is you.”

You nodded, curling into Michael, your bodies fitting together like two perfectly-cut puzzle pieces.

“And I’m gonna have you.” You felt his hand smooth your hair out, and then he placed a kiss on your forehead, as if to imprint his words into your brain. “One day.”

Your eyes fluttered open, and all at once you were lost in a rushing sea of crystal blue, like the one that had lapped against the shore that night you’d fallen in love. As you reached up to caress Michael’s porcelain cheek, thumb grazing the rough stubble that had gathered along his jaw, you couldn’t help but believe him.

One day.

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