#stephs are all smooth and golden. she's good even after all these years of not practicing

[welcometogrouchland]

I support the "Batman was unfairly biased to Stephanie for XYZ reasons" crowd so strongly bc DC claims that Bruce is a master planner who is able to understand anyone's psychology but he didn't realize that literally every single one of Steph's problems as a teenager would've been solved by her joining a shitty punk band. If he couldn't figure that much out then he didn't understand her for a minute

[codenamed-queenie]

Who do you think has the best voice in batfam? How do they all sound like? Who has the best soprano voice and who has the jazzy baritone? Who has the customer service voice nailed? Spare voice headcanons please?

Alrighty, now this is my kinda ask!

(I’ll just apologize now for the length...)

I love the idea of a singing batfam, so here are my (long rambly) headcanons:

Bruce: As Batman, he sounds like a chain smoking grizzly bear gargling nails. But as Bruce Wayne, his voice actually isn’t bad. Singing-wise, he was one of those ‘prodigy’ children, growing up. Martha Wayne was best friends with a famous opera singer, so she insisted on teaching Bruce everything she knew about vocal performance. As a result, he has a beautifully rich baritone voice, and a pretty freaking incredible range. And as far as any member of the League or general public are concerned, Bruce/Batman doesn’t sing at all, so don’t ask. But with his family? Bruce has been known to crack a smile and sing a few lines on occasion. When he’s on his own? He lets loose. Sounds like Hugh Freaking Jackman.

Kate: Her voice is very clipped and to-the-point, which kind of fits with her personality. Could not carry a tune in a bucket, but that’s fine by her.

Dick: Dick sings second tenor. He didn’t sing much as a kid, coming from an acrobat family and all. But after Bruce took him in, Alfred took it upon himself to change that. He’s got a pretty great range, all things considered, and once Alfred got him hooked on singing, the boy does it nonstop. He’ll sing on patrols, he’ll sing as he fixes himself breakfast…basically anytime, anywhere. Songs off the radio, songs his friends introduce him to, that annoying jingle for a car commercial that’s this close to driving Tim insane? All fair game. Bruce once walked in on him while he was doing a dramatic rendition of Sia’s Chandelier–while literally swinging from the manor’s crystal chandelier. (Musicals are probably his favorites to do, though, btw.)

Jason: This boy has a deep voice. Definitely a bass. When he talks, it’s a little raspy, but not in a bad way, and he’s also got a bit of a Bowery accent. It especially comes through when he’s tired or ticked off. When he sings, though, he can go higher, all the way up to baritone if he wants. But while he’s been known to sing soulful, heartfelt pieces when he thinks no one’s watching, his true passion is for rap music. On Gotham’s streets, it’s pretty common for street kids to have impromptu rap battles, and you’d best believe Jay could hold his own.

Tim: Let’s face it. His parents were the kind of folks who signed their kid up for every activity under the sun. Soccer, Lacrosse, Underwater Basket Weaving, you name it. Why not vocal lessons? And Tim, ever the perfectionist, worked at his voice until he was satisfied with his own ability. His voice is higher than his brothers’; he sings first tenor, and can go up to second alto if he warms up enough. (I feel like he’d sound like Sam Tsui–check him out on Youtube!)  A few years back on patrol, he was a little too close to an explosion, and suffered a bit of hearing damage. So when he talks, Timmy’s just a little louder than everyone else, unless he works really hard to bring his volume down.

Barbara: As far as anyone else can tell, she’s never taken a voice lesson in her life, yet for whatever reason, this girl is just naturally gifted. (It frustrates the heck out of the others.) Her voice is a smooth alto. She almost never sings, though.

But being both the Oracle and a librarian in her off-time, she deals with dozens upon dozens of frustrated heroes and bookworms on the regular. Her customer-service voice is eerily on-point. So she either sounds pleasantly ‘eager to help’–or vaguely threatening. If she uses it on any of the Bats, they’re 110% more likely to do anything she asks. Especially Dick and Jason.

Stephanie: Huge musical theater kid growing up. When someone’s singing through the comms on patrols, if it’s not Dick, it’s definitely Steph. She’s a soprano, but has the best range out of anyone (aside from Bruce). Because of this, she’s always trying to imitate the others. To their surprise (and chagrin) she’s getting pretty good at it. So far, Steph has Tim, Damian, Cass, and Dick down to a T. She’s still working on the others, and someday hopes to achieve Bruce’s Bat Voice.

When she sings, she loves to initiate duets with her siblings. Tim and Jason will indulge her, more often than not. Sometimes Cass and Barbara will join in. Bruce has only caved once (and if asked, he will deny it). But Dick? He’s her go-to choice, since he’s DTS (down to sing) all day, every day. Once these two get going, they don’t stop until one of them loses their voice or the entire family shouts them down.

Cassandra: Cass has a very clear, soprano tone. It’s absolutely gorgeous, but she’s very shy and sensitive about her voice, and rarely sings. Whenever one of her siblings is injured and/or laid up in bed, though, she’ll softly sing them lullabies while they recover.

When she chooses to speak, Cass is very soft spoken, but has ways of making herself heard if need be.

Harper: She has a thick Jersey accent, and a no-nonsense tone of voice. No one has ever heard her sing, though. (She would not sing if someone put a gun against her head, tbh.)

Duke: Everyone figured he’d be into rap like Jason, since they came from roughly the same part of Gotham, but Duke’s true passion is jazz. His dad was in a jazz group, and Duke inherited his father’s smooth jazzy baritone. Low-key, he has the best voice out of all of them, and he’s super passionate, since music was a huge deal to his biological family. He loves singing during quiet nights in the cave, or on patrol. He’s gotten the most standing ovations from random cops and citizens, and even the mayor asked him to perform for a charity event once. (An offer Duke respectfully declined.) Out of all the others, he was voted ‘Most Likely to Burst Into Brooding Song On A Rooftop Somewhere’. Bruce is so proud.

Damian: Everyone hoped he’d inherit his father’s golden vocal chords, but for now, he seems to have taken after his Aunt Kate. This frustrates Damian to no end, and for a long time, he hated listening to any of his siblings sing, knowing full well that he couldn’t join them. After months of watching the kid shrink away from anything musical, Jason had enough. He sat the youngest Robin down and taught him an art form he’d picked up from the streets of the Gotham City Narrows: beatboxing. At first, Damian thought it was crass and inelegant, but he eventually got into it. Now? He’s very good at it. The kid has mad skills, and more often than not, his siblings’ll ask him to back them up during rap battles or musical numbers. Maybe he’ll grow into his voice someday, but for now, he’s totally fine with just ‘dropping a beat’ for the others.

Alfred: Has a very thick cockney accent, but can mimic just about any other British accent whenever the fancy strikes him. Like every other aspect of the butler’s life, his singing career is an enigma. The others have heard him sing before, and he’s actually pretty good. But sometimes, random people will come up to him on the street, gushing and screaming his name while they beg for an autograph. There’s a running bet amongst the batkids as to what that’s all about, but so far? It’s anyone’s guess.

Headcanons are my favs, guys, so feel free to ask!

[elareine]

Reasons to be jealous

Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, one swear word Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne (side) Additional Tags: Pining, Misunderstandings, Jealousy, Undercover as a Couple, Future Fic, 5+1 Things, Brotherly Bonding, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff Batfam Bingo Square: 5+1 AO3: /18872404

One

“Well, that’s one arsonist behind bars.” Dick closed his laptop with a sigh of deep satisfaction. “Good job, Timmy.”

“Warm in here today,” he remarked absently, still focused on his own screen but knowing that Dick liked a bit of chatter once the tension of a case lessened.

“Oh, yeah, Jay and I were talking about it recently and it just reminded me of how much I like coming home to a warm room.”

Tim actually turned his attention to Dick. Dick and Jason… they talked, sure. The years had even smoothed most of the stiltedness out of it. He would go so far as to call them family.

But they weren’t friends. Tim couldn’t imagine them talking about room temperatures.

“You were?”

Dick laughed. “Weird topic of conversation, right? But you know how boring stake-outs go.”

Tim nodded in a heartfelt manner.

“It’s just a childhood thing. Circus trailers aren’t exactly known for great insulation. And Jay….”, Dick hesitated. Close to two decades later and still none of them liked to think about that child trying to survive on Gotham’s streets.  “Well, he knows cold, too. I thought it would be nice to have it warm if he stops by, is all.”

That was the second time Dick had called Jason ‘Jay’. Tim had thought he was the only one of their family who called Jason that. The only one who regularly saw Jason, too. Apparently not.

He ignored the twinge in his gut and asked, “So you’re getting along better now?”

The smile on Dick’s face was small but genuine. “Yeah.”

“Hey, did you set something on fire? Usually I’m close to freezing in here. See, this is why I bring the food,” Jason joked as he dropped the containers with said food on the kitchen counter.

Tim’s neck felt hot as he moved to take out some plates. “I thought it might be… nice. To be warm.”

It wasn’t a good excuse, he knew that.

Jason’s gaze sharpened. “Nice.”

Tim shrugged as casually as possible.

He thought Jason might ask again - give that man a hint something was up and he would follow it to its bitter end - but the other man finally relaxed into a smile. “Well, it is. Nice.”

When they moved to the couch for their weekly session of greasy food and terrible TV, Jason took his jacket off. Again Tim felt that unease in his gut. He had assumed that Jason kept the jacket on as form of a safety blanket, to hide his guns or even just out of a sense of style. But no, he’d just been freezing because Tim never really noticed the temperature of a room he was in and tended to keep it on the chilly side.

Some detective he was. He’d been doing this - this thing with Jason for years now, being partners, brothers, friends even, but he hadn’t seen something so simple about him. But Dick had.

A knee nudged against his. When he looked up Jason’s eyes were concerned.

“You alright, babybird?”

The nickname, as always, made Tim want to smile, but he just said: “Tired, sorry.”

Two

It was one thing to know that Dick and Jason were getting along better now; another entirely to watch it.

Patrol with just the four of them was always tense. It didn’t happen often. Babs had made plenty of comments about all-men groups being ‘way too testosterone guided’ and Tim absolutely conceded her point. But she was busy and Steph and Cass were away, as was Bruce. The announcement of an upcoming Arkham breakout hadn’t left them with much choice but for the four of them to work together.

Still, Tim had expected it to be tense because Dick and Jason were sniping at each other and Damian at everyone, not because Jason and Dick were goofing around and it was weird.

Dick was laughing and slinging an arm around Jason’s shoulder innocently. Tim knew that move intimately - any moment now Dick’s hand would move under Jason’s right arm and flip him over bodily. He’d done it to Tim and Damian about a thousand times.

Dick’s hand moved and pulled.

Nothing happened.

Jason was grinning under his helmet, Tim was sure. “Bit heavier than you remembered, Nightwing?”

Dick pouted.

Before he could reply, however, he was interrupted by a sharp voice. “Are you done being a distraction?”

Damian was being even more pissy than usual. He’d donned his Batman cowl in Bruce’s absence, but it couldn’t hide the perpetual scowl on his face this night. Tim didn’t need to guess what had caused it. The brat (which was what Damian always would be to him, a head taller than him or not) had always been possessive over Dick, and didn’t Tim know it.

Still, for once, Tim actually agreed with him. They were very distracting.

Luckily, the first inmate chose that moment to break through security forces, and soon they were all too busy for any more flirting.

“Why are you here and not in the shower?” Dick waved a hand in the direction Jason had disappeared to.

“I need to write a mission report,” Tim protested.

“We can do that, right, little D?” Dick smiled at Damian, who grumbled but acquiesced. “Go ahead and have an early night, dude. You look beat.”

“Uh. Thanks.”

Tim made his way to the unofficial changing room they sometimes used after missions, where Jason was just coming out of the shower, a towel around his hips.

He smiled when he saw Tim. “You’re done?”

“Looks like it.”

“Wanna go for some pancakes?”

“Sure.”

With a quiet sigh of relief, Tim peeled out of the tight suit, grimacing mentally at the sweat that made his skin stick to the material. Jason moved next to him to get dressed.

Tim didn’t realise how quiet he’d been until Jason’s hand reached out to poke his newly uncovered cheek. “Something on your mind, babybird?”

“It’s weird,” he admitted, “seeing Dick and you get along.”

Jason laughed. “I bet. Don’t worry, it probably won’t last.”

“What brought the truce on, anyway?”

“Nothing special. Guess we just decided to, to quote a certain Tim Drake, ‘grow up and talk’. Though alcohol was involved. Obviously.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed. Jason wasn’t looking at him and his tone of voice was relaxed, light, even.

He was lying. 

Three

“If he’s coming to Wayne functions now, we might as well make Jason officially a part of the family again.”

“Bruce doesn’t know how to ask and he thinks Jason will say no.”

“He might not.” But Tim was aware that Dick’s attention wasn’t really on their quiet conversation.

Dick was loosening his tie. Tim, curse his brain, couldn’t help but notice the way his throat was flushed, how he swallowed like his mouth was dry.

See, this was the kind of situation where Tim mentally cursed every bit of detective training he’d ever had. He’d really rather not know that his brother was becoming aroused in the middle of a very public ballroom, thank you very much.

Tim followed Dick’s gaze to where Jason and Damian were talking to a group of socialites, the two of them towering over everyone else. Without any conscious input from his brain, his own eyes strayed to where the suit jacket stretched just so over Jason’s broad shoulders, to where the coat flared, perfectly accentuating his waist, down to his thighs just barely contained by the slim suit pants…

Dick’s voice recalled him to the present. “Well, you would know better than anyone else.”

Apparently not, Tim thought. Apparently I don’t know anything about him. If he didn’t even tell me about you…

It was hard to speak around the bitterness in throat. “I know that if he keeps throwing Damian to the wolves like that, he won’t live long enough to answer Bruce.”

Dick laughed. “Aww, you know Damian only means his death threats 30% of the time these days. Still, I’ll go rescue him. Coming?”

Tim waved him off, knowing all three of the official Wayne brothers together would draw a crowd. Worse, it would draw Cass. As much as he loved his sister, he didn’t want her to see the ugly feeling clawing through him.

For a minute, he just watched Dick move through the crowd, a kind word here, a flirtatious smile there, always working his audience. The golden boy. Tim had thought he was over that old jealousy - over fighting for the cowl, for Bruce’s love, for a place in their family, always compared to the first Robin - but now it looked like Jason would be just one more thing he’d lose to Dick and he couldn’t stand it.

There was a familiar presence sidling up to him. For such a big man, Jason could be quite stealthy.

Tim took a deep breath, composing himself. He couldn’t afford to act weird around Jason. Again.

“Hey,” he smiled at him, “Alfred got you into a suit?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to wearing something this expensive.” Jason rolled his shoulders back, stretching the shirt even further. Tim had to look away. “You make it look so natural.”

“I’m always terrified of spilling something.” Tim suppressed a shudder, remembering his mother’s less than understanding attitude when he’d ruined one of his outfits as a child. Alfred, of course, would never do more than cluck disapprovingly, but…

“Well, then you’d better put that glass away and dance with me.” There was a roguish grin on Jason’s face as he offered Tim a hand.

Tim, however, didn’t even really have time to consider that offer before Jason just went and took his hand anyway, his other setting down Tim’s glass on a nearby surface before pulling the younger man to the dance floor.

“Jason,” Tim protested, laughter threatening to break through as Jason pulled him into his arms and began leading him into a quickstep.

“C’mon, the longer we dance, the longer we don’t need to talk to anyone else.” Jason grinned down at him. “Mrs. Quickshaw was already making her way over.”

Now Tim did giggle. “In that case, feel free to whisk me away anytime.”

He thought he saw Dick watching them from the corner of his eyes, but Jason chose that moment to twirl him around and he forgot all about it, breathless with laughter.

Four

“Grayson and Todd.”

Tim looked up from his screen at the cave to the masked crusader sitting next to him. “What about them?” Last time he’d checked, the two were out and about on their usual routes. Jason had even texted him about a particularly funny incident involving two sex workers and a fourteen-year-old wannabe client four minutes ago. Surely even he hadn’t managed to get into trouble in the meantime?

What was he thinking, this was Gotham.

Damian made an impatient gesture. His expression implied that Tim should know exactly what he was talking about, but he deigned to say: “They are closer.”

Oh.

“Yes.” Tim did his best to sound disinterested. There was no way he would bare this wound to Damian.

Damian was frowning up a storm now. “I’ve seen Grayson experience romantic and sexual attraction to someone he believes is out of his reach before. He’s exhibiting all the signs now.”

Tim considered that. In a way, Damian certainly knew Dick better than Tim. (That still smarted a bit, by the way.) The brat had certainly become better about people’s emotions through the years. If Damian said that Dick was in love with Jason, Tim believed him.

For a second, he considered the possibility that it was one-sided with something like joy. Then he squashed it ruthlessly.

It was Dick. How could Jason resist him? Why would he want to? Everyone loved Dick. It didn’t matter that Tim had invested years of his life into supporting Jason through the most difficult times of their lives, into building a relationship that was founded on trust instead of violence. He had never kidded himself that it made Jason obligated or even likely to love him.

It didn’t matter, because who wouldn’t want Dick?

Dick might be pining now, but soon, he would get what he wanted. He always did, in these things.

Tim just hoped for Jason’s sake that Dick wouldn’t get tired of him once he had him.

Shoving the thought away, he said tiredly, “Maybe it is for now.”

There was a loud crack as Damian set down his cup with enough force to split porcelain. “You’re not helpful, Drake,” he spat, jumping up and exiting the cave in his usual dramatic fashion.

Tim watched him leave and wondered why this felt like giving up.

Five

“Oh, I see you have booked our honeymoon suite. May I offer my felicitations?”

Jason smiled and pulled his partner closer into him. “Thank you.”

“Our suite offers everything you need to make it the experience of a lifetime. The rooms include a kitchenette, a secluded balcony with a sea view as well as a whirlpool. I’ll have an attendant bring you a bottle of champagne,” the clerk smiled, “on the house.”

Dick beamed. “Oh, thank you, that’s very kind of you!” He turned to kiss Jason on the cheek. “See, babe, I told you this hotel is the best.”

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Grayson. Now, our restaurant serves dinner between six and ten, though I’m happy to give you recommendations if you choose to dine elsewhere. Room service is available by calling…”

“Will she never stop talking,” a voice in Tim’s feed cut her off.

Tim frowned. “You’re supposed to be working, Robin.”

He could practically hear Damian’s eyeroll. “Not much to do as a valet, you imbecile. I’m assigned to take their luggage up,” that was going according to plan, then, Tim thought, how nice to know, thank you, Damian, “but they are too busy flirting to actually do something.”

“That is what they’re supposed to be doing,” Tim reminded him.

“Tch.” Damian’s feed cut off.

Jason and Dick were finally wrapping things up at the reception desk. Tim watched through the security cameras as they turned towards the elevators, their eyes seemingly never leaving each other.

These days, Jason was the logical choice as a partner on these missions if they wanted to keep it in the family. Mostly because people didn’t know he was family, so they could use their actual names to get into luxury hotels and the like. O was busy and Bruce on another planet, so it made sense that Tim was running the backup side of things. Sure, Dick had been a bit quick to volunteer to be Jason’s partner on this one, leaving Damian to infiltrate the labor side of things, but Damian was still a bit stiff in undercover situations like this one. The entire set-up was entirely logical.

Still, as Jason’s hand dropped down to squeeze a generous handful of Dick’s ass, Tim started to see Damian’s point.

The honeymooners made their way up to their room. Separating as soon as the door closed behind Damian, they silently began to case the room.

Tim let them work for it for a minute, then spoke into the mic. “There are no outgoing signals apart from my camera from your room.”

Jason looked up into said camera and smiled. “Thanks. How are things on your end?”

“Uneventful.”

Dick asked, “Where’s Damian?”

“Making his way through the rooms. He’ll hand your note over to the mark in about five minutes.”  

“Better get undressed then,” Dick said, winking at Jason. “Gotta give her a show, right?”

“You actually want her and Damian to walk in on us?” Jason sighed dramatically. “Tim, you’ll rescue me if Damian tries to kill me, right?”

“I don’t know,” Tim replied drily around the bile in his throat, “if you make me watch you two have sex, I might help him hide the bodies.”

“Ouch.” Jason pressed a hand to his heart. “I’m wounded.”

Dick rolled his eyes and pulled his shirt over his eyes. “Just get undressed.”

“Since you’re asking so nicely, darling.”

“Just for you, honey.”

Tim decided to turn his attention to Damian’s feed, instead.

And one

To say the aftermath of the mission was tense was to make an understatement. They had drawn out the mob contact they’d needed and locked away an entire branch of a drug-smuggling cartel, but Jason and Dick had barely made it back to the cave before Damian had appeared to whisk a confused Dick away, throwing acidic looks at Jason all the way.

Jason, weirdly, didn’t seem to take that to heart at all. Instead, he was grinning at Tim. “Got the brat all upset, huh?”

Tim didn’t know what to say. That Damian had good reason to be upset? That both of them couldn’t stand this new relationship that had been on display so obviously during this mission? ‘He’ll come around’, knowing fully well it would be a lie?

Abruptly, Tim stood up from his chair. Then he didn’t know what to do next. His instincts were screaming at him to get of here, to get away from Jason until he had himself under control again, but he couldn’t just storm past him, could he? Then Jason would definitely know something was wrong.

And this was what he had wanted all these years, right? For Jason to be a part of their family again. To be happy.

(For Jason to happy with Tim.

But he should’ve known better. Who could compete with Dick Grayson, after all?)

“I’m happy for you and Dick.” Tim could say it, but he couldn’t make himself look at Jason as he did.

“Tim.” Jason’s voice was soft.

Tim’s eyes stayed stubbornly on the ground even as he heard Jason move closer to him.

Then there was a large hand cupping his left jawbone, gently tilting his head up.

“Oh, babybird, I’m-“ there was just the slightest brush of Jason’s lips against his own. Then Jason’s mouth moved up, pressing gentle kisses to his cheekbones, the arch of his brow, his forehead.

Tim had to close his eyes against the sudden burn in them, and Jason kissed his eyelid, too.

“I’m sorry,” Jason told him earnestly. “I didn’t realise the acting would affect you. I didn’t think you-“

“Well, I do. Love you, I mean.” Tim stopped himself. “Wait, that is what we’re talking about, right?”

“I was hoping.” Jason kissed him again. This time, it lasted a lot longer, just their lips gently moving against each other, Jason’s hands on his neck, Tim’s hands on Jason’s shoulders.

When he finally moved just fractions of a centimetre away, Jason said, “I do, too.”

Tim wanted to believe, to just let himself give in to Jason, drown in his affection, but he had to open his eyes, had to ask. “But… you and Dick…”

To his surprise, Jason chuckled. “When would that even happen? I’m pretty sure I spend every waking hour of the day either with you or texting you or talking to you on the coms, Tim. I was probably texting you during the stake-out when Dick and I were talking about the ideal room temperature that you were so weird about.” He paused. “We were talking about the ideal room temperature, babybird. How does that scream romantic relationship to you?”

Tim was full-on blushing now, he was sure. “You’re very comfortable with each other. And you did do way more touching than necessary on the mission.”

“Okay, number one - we’ve been in this business long enough to know to never go undercover as a couple with someone you actually have feelings for. They will be exposed and it will be a mess and someone will probably be watching. Number two - I just enjoyed annoying the shit out of Damian.”

Tim actually pulled back a bit to look at Jason. “Wait, that was intentional?”

“On my side at least.”

Some of the interactions Tim had had with Damian fit that, he just hadn’t thought it was reciprocated - oh. Dick’s flush at the ball. Oh. “So Dick is-“

“I knew Dick was fucked the moment Damian turned out to be that tall.”

Tim groaned in exasperation. “How did I miss that?”

“To be fair, I didn’t really know before I mentioned to Dick that I’m, you know, with you and he proceeded to have a slow meltdown about Damian in front of me. There was alcohol and crying involved. Wasn’t pretty, believe me.”

“That’s what broke the ice?”

“Yeah. Pretty difficult to get annoyed at someone after you’ve seen them sobbing with guilt about being attracted to the demon brat.”

With an exhale, all the tension Tim had been carrying for weeks now left his body and he slumped forward into Jason’s embrace, hiding his face in his neck.

“Can we please stop talking about our brothers now?” Jason asked plaintively even as his hands started rubbing soothing circles on Tim’s back. “Because I’m kind of stuck on the part where you said you loved me and let me kiss you, here.”

The smile that rose on Tim’s face was slow to unfold but so very, very happy. “You’re right. You should kiss me again.”

Jason did.

Tim had no occasion to think about Dick Grayson again that evening.

[cemaine1990-blog]

Sculpted In Klay: 

https://www.wattpad.com/story/193052466-sculpted-in-klay?utm_source=web&utm_medium=email&utm_content=share_myworks

"Boo, Thompson sucks balls!" Camilla heard the jeer and the distinctively annoying raspy voice coming from the right side of the bar. She squinted through the dim lighting of the ironically named "W" sports bar to see the culprit: a blonde haired man and his two buddies, all sporting Clippers gear. Weird flex for a bar in the Bay Area, but she decided to let it go. She glanced back at the tv, the Warriors were trailing behind. Jeremy, the bartender, wordlessly replaced her empty tequila glass with a new one (extra ice, he knew her too well). She nodded a silent thanks, and they both turned back to the tv screen. It had been a long day, but then everyday for a pediatric surgeon was a long one. However, today was difficult on a whole other level than your typical tough surgery or overpacked schedule. One of her younger patients, Timmy, was doing worse, and she had to have "that" conversation with his parents. There were two conversations every doctor dreaded having. The first one was telling family members that a loved one passed away during surgery. The second one was preparing family members for the fact that their loved one was not getting any better, and that they had to start getting ready for the worst. That was the conversation she had with six-year-old Timmy's parents today. This conversation frequently—and understandably—included many tears, anger, frustration, yelling, followed by more tears and endless "Why?" and "Can't you do something?" questions. Camilla wasn't good at handling tears or feelings. In fact, she spent a majority of her time avoiding and running away from feelings by throwing herself fully into her work. This ensured that she was a kick ass surgeon, but it also left her little to no time for anything else, quite similarly to someone else that she knew.

The cameraman panned to a close up of his face, and she could tell from the way he rapidly squinted his eyes that he was quickly growing frustrated, and almost like a twin, she felt a similar frustration building in the pit of her own stomach. They've been like that since high-school, Klay and her, creepily in tune to each other's moods. When she broke her arm at the age of sixteen during a Big Bear skiing trip, he called her phone almost right away. When she didn't pick up he called her brother Dominick to find out what happened. Klay explained that he suddenly felt a sharp pain and knew something was wrong with her. Nowadays, when she was in surgery and had to miss one of his games (which she would usually watch at the "W" or her home) she would always know, even before checking the score, whether they won or lost. If she felt a warm glow-like sensation spread through her chest, it meant they won and he was happy and elated. If she felt sharp pangs in her stomach, she knew they had lost and he was upset and disappointed. Currently, the stomach pangs were getting stronger.

She took a large sip of the smooth tequila as Curry airballed a 15-footer, an unfortunate and ridiculously rare occurrence that made Golden Boy Steph seem like a mere mortal after all. Camilla sighed as the frustration in her stomach increased tenfold, suggesting that the other half of the Splash Brothers was on the verge of throwing a tantrum. Klay may have appeared like the most calm and down to earth guy on tv, but when it came to his passion he was incredibly competitive and not above showing his frustration. The tv showed Curry chewing on his mouthguard in sheer disappointment, when suddenly Camilla's iPhone screen lit up. A text message from Ayesha. It read, "Girl, this is bad. Really bad." It was accompanied by a crying face emoji. Camilla nodded at the words on the screen. Ayesha was right, this wasn't looking good. The blonde haired Clippers fan proceeded to get louder in his anti-Warriors chants, and Camilla had to talk herself out of going over there and throwing the tequila in his face. Instead, she took a deep breath. "Have faith, we got this," she texted Ayesha back. The Warriors had to go to the finals, there was no other option in Camilla's mind. And she didn't even want to envision the state Klay would be in if they lost.

She grabbed the pistachio bowl that sat at the edge of the bar and pulled it towards her. As she popped a few in her mouth, the first food she'd had in the last six hours, she noticed a handsome man entering the "W" and looking around, clearly searching for someone in particular. She ducked low, but her efforts to go unnoticed failed as he made a beeline for her.

"Cadell!" he called out, trying a bit too hard to sound like he didn't expect to see her. It was a lie, everyone knew this was her place. Not that she was trying to call dibs on it, but she was the one that actually made this place cool back when it was still known as a dump. Before she set foot here, all the medical staff at the hospital turned their noses at the sports dive bar down the street and would instead go to the fancy wine and cheese bar further down the road. She was the first one to come to the "W" and bring her co-workers in for an afterwork drink. And now it was the hot spot for doctors, nurses and anyone else looking to decompress after a stressful shift at work. But upon seeing Steven here, her own frustration increased as she realized that her afterwork sanctuary had now been invaded and compromised. No bar could ever be relaxing with Steven in it. Meanwhile, somewhere inside of the Oracle Arena, Klay had to be held back by his teammates from having the sudden and inexplicable urge to fight someone on the opposing team.

"Steven, didn't expect to see you here," she mumbled as he pulled out the stool next to her and sat far too close for comfort. His leg brushing against hers, his arm taking up her bar space.

"How's little man Tim doing?" he asked. She hated that he called him that.

"Not so good," she replied shortly and continued making progress on her tequila.

"Ah, sorry about that. Is that straight tequila you're drinking?" he asked, not sounding sorry at all.

"Yep."

"Hardcore, Cadell. Hardcore," he laughed, and ordered a long island ice tea. She found that a strange choice, but made no comment. After all, she didn't want to start off on the wrong foot with her new co-worker, but instinctually she knew that Steven was not somebody she could really be friends with. However, for the sake of a healthy work environment, she would give it her best shot.

Steven took a sip of his drink, which to Camilla's amusement Jeremy side eyed while serving, and blabbed on about his old work and how he loved this new job and about his ex girlfriend and on and on. Camilla had reciprocated with nods, where it was appropriate, and simple "ahh's" and "interesting's" where she felt she needed to insert them in order to be polite. But her head and heart was in the game. The Dubs had their backs against the wall, and it seemed to light a fire in them because they were slowly picking up their pace. Camilla popped a few more pistachios in her mouth when all of a sudden the pitch of Steve's voice shot up, meaning he had asked her a question. A question she completely did not hear.

"What's that?" she asked innocently, trying to mask the fact that she hadn't been listening to him for the past fifteen minutes.

"I was saying that you're really into this game, you like basketball?" he asked in a voice that suggested it was strange if she did in fact like basketball.

"I do, Steven. And you don't?"

"Tennis is more my thing, to be honest. But I can get us really good seats if you want, I know a guy," he replied proud of himself, once again putting Camilla at unease. Not only was he crossing professional boundaries now by practically asking her on a date, he was doing it in the most half-assed way imagined.

"You know a guy," she repeated, unimpressed. If only he knew the type of seats she could get them with one text or a phone call. But she decided not to hurt Steven's pride.

"Yeah, a lawyer friend of mine. If you're interested." But Camilla was no longer listening because Klay just nailed a game-tying triple. She smiled, the pangs in her stomach suddenly gone. She knew they were on a wave now, and nobody was going to stop them.

"Boo, hope that asshole breaks a leg!" the blonde man, now well on his way to a blackout state, yelled out aggressively. Camilla poured the reminder of her tequila down her throat, the burning sensation making her shudder for a moment. She pulled out a few bills and handed them to Jeremy saying "no change." Jeremy gave her an appreciative nod.

"I gotta run Steve-o," she said purposely using a name she knew he disliked, "I'll see you at work on Monday."

On her way out she "accidentally" bumped into the blonde man, who was holding a fresh pitcher of beer, causing him to spill it all over the front of his shirt. She smiled as he called her a bitch, and walked out to cheers from fellow Warriors fans. Nobody was going to wish injury upon Klay Thompson in her presence without going unchecked.

Her Lyft driver was waiting for her outside, and ironically had the radio tuned in to the game, so by the time he dropped her off at her loft, she knew the Warriors took the game.

"Evening Jerry," she nodded at the doorman, or the "concierge" as the building management insisted on calling him now. Jerry was in charge of visitor passes, package deliveries as well as hailing cabs for the residents of Camilla's building. Klay had always teased her about being a pediatric surgeon but living in a loft. But her place suited her lifestyle. It was in close proximity to the hospital, which allowed her to get there in less than fifteen minutes in case of an emergency. It was safe and secure, with Jerry on patrol. It was more than enough for her. It's not like she needed a huge house, when it was just her. No family. "Family", the word stung her soul, but she ignored it.

She opened the door and the nearly empty place greeted her. Klay had always made fun of how minimalistic she was, and how un-homey her places tended to be. He didn't realize she did certain things to protect herself. That she needed to keep this place cold and formal for very specific reasons. Her current place was a two story loft, and the base floor was pretty bare. Upon entering and walking through the hallway there was a neat and modern open kitchen to the right. It featured a large black marble island and black leather bar stools. She didn't have a big dining table, after all nobody really had proper dinners here and most of the food she ate consisted of Chinese takeout. Beyond the kitchen, the wooden floors led to a soft beige couch, a glass table and two beige chairs across from it, and further down were doors to a small balcony with an array of low maintenance plants (gifts from her mom who shared in Klay's sentiments about the place feeling un-homey, and who wanted to make the place appear like someone actually lived in it). The stairs across from the kitchen led upstairs into a spacious and bright bedroom featuring a super cozy king sized bed with a luxurious beige headboard and hotel like white bedding, two night stands on either side, and a huge bookcase featuring an endless array of medical textbooks. Next to the bedroom there was a large bathroom with a walk in shower as well as a separate large bath tub. Could she afford a bigger and cooler place? Of course. But this was her spot, this is who she was, and this is all she needed at the moment.

She pulled her hair into a ponytail, grabbed a vanilla bath bomb and started to run a bath. As the water filled up the bathtub, Camilla put on a face mask. It had been a long day and she was ready to relax and wash it all way. She walked over to her bookcase, and grabbed a crime thriller novel. After the tequila shots she had, she knew there was no way she could retain any new medical knowledge so she didn't even bother picking up any of her textbooks to read. No, a good Stephen King book would do it tonight. She immersed herself in the warm vanilla bath and started to read. But slowly her mind began to drift to him.

No matter how hard she tried, almost every night that she was home alone led up to this. She just couldn't put a stop to all the memories. After all, he was unforgettable.

The way he looked in his basketball uniform.

Her hand made its was underwater, and gently touched her freshly waxed womanhood.

The way his arms glistened with sweat.

Her fingers gently parted her labia and began to slowly circle the small button underneath.

The way he licked his lip in frustration.

She moaned as she remembered those same lips kissing all over her body, and that same tongue deep inside of her.

His fingers clutching the ball.

Her body writhed in pleasure remembering those same fingers being knuckle deep inside of her.

His voice as he answered post game questions.

The waves of orgasm washed over her as she remembered that voice groaning while cumming inside her.

The second she came, she regretted giving in to these fantasies once again. After all, she was the one who ended things (once again) and she needed to stick to her word this time. Their relationship had unfortunately been highly complicated for a variety of reasons, and fantasizing about their sex life was not going to make this any easier on her. And really, it was time to move on now. It had been months since they'd seen each other, and Klay was probably already dating a Hollywood starlet or an Instagram model. She had made her choice, and she needed to be firm in her decision. But a part of her couldn't help but give in from time to time and imagine a life and a world where they were able to be together, happy. She shook the thoughts away as she slipped out of the bath and washed off her face mask. She turned off the lights and fell asleep almost the second her body hit the sheets.

When she woke up the next morning, she remembered with fright that it was her birthday. She wasn't scared because she was getting older, no, she was scared because she forgot she had two days off which meant she would need to actually indulge the people in her life who had most likely planned something nice for her, like a surprise birthday party. What bothered her most was that she fully realized her attitude was completely ungrateful and bratty, and that many people could only dream of having such caring friends and family. Yet every year, she found herself aggressively dodging any and all birthday wishes. She glanced at her phone and sure enough there were already endless texts from family, friends and even some old patients who had her personal number. She sighed, guilty for feeling burdened by this outpouring of birthday love, and proceeded to send everyone a very grateful text of acknowledgment and thanks. If it was up to her birthdays would not be a thing. In fact, she decided she would look into what it took to become a Jehovah's Witness so that next year she would not have to endure this.

After she answered as many people as she could, she scrambled up some eggs and ate them with avocado toast. She did not do good on days off, it gave her too much free time to think. She thrived in her work environment where she was constantly busy and didn't have time to ponder things like her complicated relationship with a certain handsome Warriors shooting guard. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. She scrunched up her face trying to remember if she invited anyone over, but couldn't come up with an answer. However, the person behind the door was a delivery man, and he was holding a ridiculously large bouquet of red roses, which anyone who knew Camilla would know were far from her favorite.

"Are you sure these are for me?" she inquired as politely as possible.

"Are you Camilla Cadell?"

She nodded and accepted the bouquet, still confused. Once back inside she looked at the note card and it immediately explained her questions about the unfortunate flower choice: Steven. She wondered how the hell he even got her address and made a mental note to ask the hospital staff if anyone gave it to him on Monday. The flowers were not at fault and she felt bad so she put them in a vase and placed them on the kitchen island. She then quickly changed into her workout clothes, grabbed her mat and walked to a local studio for a morning yoga session. When she got back, her phone had a new array of endless messages and missed phone calls. "Great," she muttered to herself and proceeded to first make coffee. She could tackle the new messages with some caffeine in her system. She brewed her favorite kind of medium roast, added a splash of half and half and a dash of sweetener and began going through her phone. She listened to the voicemail from her brother first:

"Yo sis! Happy birthday, you're getting hella old. Like fine wine though. Listen, don't even try to say no to this. I've got a little get together planned, alright. I know you don't like that stuff but you're my only sister and you can't stop me from celebrating you. So...do whatever you want with your day, but meet me at Dover Lane at 7:00pm for come cocktails with friends, alright? Call me back when you get this."

She sighed. Dominick meant well, but the last thing she wanted to do with her night was cocktails with friends. Having to listen about everyone's lives and then endure personal questions about her own. It was tiring just thinking about it, when all she really wanted to do was lay on the couch and watch a movie, and maybe eat some ice cream. But he was her brother, and she wasn't going to deny him the joy of throwing her a birthday get together, so she texted him back to let him know she'd be there. Dover Lane was a fancy restaurant with a booming bar and sick private rooms. At least she knew she would eat some decent food for her birthday.

A quick glance at her closet revealed that she didn't have much to wear for the night as she had recently went on a closet purge and donated most of her things to a women's shelter. She glanced at the clock, there was still plenty of time to go shopping. Even though Camilla was frugal 90% of the time, she didn't mind splurging on things on occasion. Money was made to be spent, after all. Of course a lot of her money went to helping her family, donating, and causes dear to her heart, but at times she didn't mind to make a dent in her bank account for something a little extra.

And now that she was standing in the middle of Barneys on her birthday, she knew it was time to get a little crazy. First, she needed a nice dress. And shockingly, it didn't take long to find one. She knew it was "the one" right away. A sexy, simple and sophisticated black Bottega Veneta made in Italy. Plunging V-neck and sleeveless. When the saleslady saw her try it on she gulped for air, which is how Camilla knew this was the right choice. Price tag: $2,220. Next were shoes. Camilla spent most of her life in comfortable hospital shoes, but today she decided to spice things up and a brand new pair of nude patent leather Christian Louboutin pumps would do it. All for the lovely price of $695. Even though she made great money as a surgeon, she still had a tiny pang of guilt for spending all this money on herself, but she quickly forgot all about it as she moved to the jewelry section. She splurged on a pair of gold earrings and a diamond necklace, and begged the salesperson to not even tell her the total but just go ahead and charge her. As she was fishing around in her wallet, a credit card fell out onto the floor. Not just any credit card. It was Klay's American Express, more commonly known as the Black Card, one of the most expensive and prestigious credit cards. Camilla was caught off guard, she completely forgot she had it. Klay, who was also frugal with his money, yet highly generous when it came to those he loved, had given her the card one day as she was going shopping and told her to "have fun." When she told him she didn't need him paying for things, he made an annoyed Klay face and told her it made him feel good to splurge on her. So she took the card with her, and apparently never returned it. She was sure he cancelled it by now and had a new one mailed, but she decided to FedEx it over to him right after leaving Barneys, just in case. She picked the same-day service, and then went home to get ready for her dinner.

After she showered, shaved and moisturized, she began tackling her makeup. An hour later, her face was properly caked up and ready to party. She then quickly curled her blonde tresses into loose waves and squeezed into her sexy nighttime outfit. Nobody would point to her and believe she was a surgeon. Tonight, she resembled an Instagram model. She laughed as she looked at herself in the mirror, it wasn't often that she had the chance to wear an outfit like this. But sometimes a girl had to feel sexy, and if not on her birthday then when?

After she grabbed a Dior purse to go with her outfit, she ordered a Lyft and made her way downstairs. She had to hold back a giggle when she saw Jerry do a double take.

"Have a great evening Miss Cadell," he called out.

"You too Jerry," she replied. No matter how many times she asked him to call her Camilla, he still used Miss Cadell, so eventually she just gave up.

The scene at Dover Lane was predictable. Girls squeezed into sexy little numbers, rich gentlemen looking to get lucky for the night, and a slew of waitstaff waiting for their shift to be over. Dominick had gotten them a private room, and as the hostess brought her inside a gaggle of her friends and family screamed "surprise!" and shot confetti straight in her face. Camilla felt tired already, and she hadn't even begun socializing. But she put on a good face, and began making the rounds with her friends. She thanked people, she caught up with girlfriends who talked about their babies and husbands, she caught up with guy friends who all wanted to know why she was still single, she thanked her family for surprising her and caught them up on her work and life (which was her work). Her mother asked her when she would be getting a grandchild, to which Camilla directed her to ask Dominick. This question infuriated her, for reasons she didn't want to share with her family, and certainly not on her birthday.

The private room was a great experience. The food kept on coming, the drinks kept on flowing and the party seemed to be never ending. But sometime around midnight, Dominick's girlfriend began puking her guts out, and slowly but surely people began realizing it was time to call it a night. Camilla said goodbye to everyone, and accompanied Dom and his lady home to ensure that they would be okay. After making sure the girl didn't have alcohol poisoning, and putting Dom to bed, she was free at last. She was finally going to go home, get into some comfy pj's and shamelessly watch a few episodes of Law and Order SVU.

When she walked into her building the downstairs desk was empty, which was unusual. But she chalked it up to Jerry using the restroom. She took the elevator to her floor, and got out to find an unlikely scene at her door. Jerry wan wrangling with a very annoyed looking Klay Thompson. She stood there speechless was a moment until Jerry noticed her.

"Miss Cadell, this gentleman has been insistent on seeing you and will not leave. Do you want me to call the police?" he asked eagerly, as if he couldn't wait to have Klay arrested.

"No, no, it's fine Jerry," she quickly responded trying to diffuse the situation.

"You know me, Jerry!" an exasperated Klay exclaimed.

"I knew you when Miss Cadell was seeing you. I no longer know you, sir, and unless she says otherwise, you no longer have access to her floor." Jerry was a tough one. Because Camilla didn't exactly explain the reasons for her and Klay's breakup, he naturally took her side and assumed that like many of the other NBA players Klay had cheated on her with a groupie, and that's why they split up. Camilla didn't bother to correct him. It felt nice to have someone so squarely on her side.

Klay looked like he was about to start arguing or throwing punches, so Camilla hurried to open her door.

"It's okay, thank you Jerry, we're fine for now," she gently instructed and Jerry begrudgingly made his way toward the elevator with Klay mad dogging him all the way.

"Come on in, before he actually calls the police," she whispered. Klay followed her inside.

"What...are you doing here?" she asked, setting down all her birthday gift bags by the entrance and flipping on the light switch. The light illuminated Klay's handsome but tired face. Poor guy needed some time off she thought.

"This," he said, waving a FedEx envelope in front of her face.

"It's your card," she said, not understanding why he needed to come all this way to discuss an old credit card.

"I know, but you didn't have to send it back to me on your birthday. It still works, you can use it you know? Get yourself a birthday gift or something," he said and she realized he was slightly intoxicated.

"I don't need to use your card, Klay. Thank you," she replied gently. She felt so many emotions rushing through her upon seeing him again. First she remembered how crazy tall he was. Then she remembered how nice his cologne smelled. And lastly she couldn't stop thinking about how handsome his face was in person. It felt so good to see him again, but she knew him being here was bad news.

"It's your birthday," he stated. "I...I couldn't not say happy birthday. I couldn't not see you, CC," he said using his old nickname for her. It made her heart flutter. He inched closer to her face and she felt her breath stop. Suddenly, his eyes darted to something on the side of her.

"What the hell are those?" he asked, looking at the bouquet of red roses and marching towards the kitchen island to inspect them. Before she had a chance to make something up he exclaimed, "Steve! Who the hell is Steven?"

"Just a co-worker," she hastily replied.

"A co-worker? Sending you red roses? You don't even like roses, or did that change too?" he asked with a passive aggressive tone.

"No, I don't care for them."

"Steven, wow. You said you weren't leaving me for another guy. You said you weren't even looking for another relationship," he stated and squinted his eyes in that way that let Camilla know he was not happy. "Do you wish Steven was here instead of me?" and for a second he sounded like an unsure teenage boy.

"Of course not. I'm...I'm really happy to see you. And trust me, Steven is nobody to me," she replied, trying to reassure him. He didn't look reassured, but he didn't comment on it any further.

"You look...amazing by the way," he said and suddenly she felt self conscious in her tight outfit. "I brought you a gift. Sort of. I know you don't want it, but I don't want it either and I don't want to take it back. So take it, sell it, give it to a friend, donate it, do whatever you want with it. I just can't hold onto it," he said pulling out a little ring box. She felt her face flush at the sight of it and remembered the night he had first shown it to her, got down on one knee and asked her to marry him. That night still replayed in her mind often, and saying "no" to his proposal was the hardest choice she'd ever had to make. And now the ring was back, staring her in the face.

"Klay..." she started.

"Just take it," he said and the tone of his voice left no room for argument. She accepted it, knowing very well that inside was the most gorgeous cushion cut engagement ring she'd ever laid eyes on. It was heartbreaking to think about, because she wanted nothing more than to say yes and be happy with him forever. But it couldn't be so simple, of course not, nothing in her life ever was.

"I hated not spending your birthday with you, and not knowing where you were, and what you were doing, and who you were with," he confessed.

"Klay, you have a game coming up, you have to focus," she said, trying to change the subject because the sight of him was becoming altogether far too distracting.

"I can focus on the game but I need to get you off my mind first," he replied as he closed the space between them. She was too breathless to even try to stop what she knew was about to happen. "I need you," he whispered looking deep into her eyes, and then he pressed his lips to hers.

Their lips met like two forces of nature: strong and wild. She didn't even realize how much she had missed him and his smart mouth. But now she remembered, as his tongue exploring her mouth was the most welcome sensation. His hands traveled further down her back to cup her behind.

"Mmm," he moaned into her mouth and she felt herself getting wet for him. This was bad, this was really bad, but at the speed it was going she had no way to stop it. If she pulled the emergency brake now, they would crash and burn. She had to ride this one out.

Their kiss got more and more hungry and desperate, and his hands began traveling all over her body now, in erratic urgency. She felt an electric shock pulse through her when his finger brushed past her nipple. Klay was the only man who could do this to her, make her completely lose control of herself.

"Oh God baby," she mumbled as the sensations continued to build, and the look in his eyes had her weak. She was completely at his disposal, and would do anything for him in this moment. He picked her up so that her legs were wrapped around his waist, and carried her upstairs into the bedroom. Once he laid her on the bed, with once swift movement he removed his shirt. She loved the way he was built, not skinny but not outrageously muscular either. Just the perfect medium.

"Time to get you out of this sexy little number," he mused, looking down at her little black dress. But first he grabbed her expensive heels and pulled them off her feet, one by one. He then reached around her back and pulled down the zipper of her dress, meanwhile she inhaled his delicious scent. It was a Dior cologne she had bought him a while back, mixed with his own natural scent: a heavenly combination. He pulled off the dress, leaving her in a sexy matching set of black lace underwear.

"This is a sight I could look at forever," he said, then slowly positioned himself on top of her as they began another vigorous kissing session. His tall frame and all two hundred and fifteen pounds of him felt deliciously burdensome on top of her, and she felt herself getting more and more excited with each of his grinds. She also felt his hard manhood press into her underwear. She missed that part of him more than she wanted to admit. Just when she thought she was about to explode from all the overwhelming sensations, she felt his hand make its way inside her panties. She let out a loud moan as his fingers brushed against her sensitive clit, then slowly moved down to her very wet opening. He slid in two fingers with absolute ease, and she was almost embarrassed at how ready she was for him.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groaned into her ear.

"I need you inside me baby," she begged, the sensation of his fingers driving her crazy. She needed to feel him, all of him, in her. He quickly slipped out of his underwear and pulled off her panties, then pushed his deliciously large yet proportionate cock deep inside of her in one smooth movement. They both groaned in complete ecstasy at the feeling of their bodies reuniting once again in this most intimate way.

He began slowly thrusting in and out of her, and as they looked into each others eyes she knew that she wasn't going to last very long, and by the look in his eyes he wasn't going to either. It had been too long, and the build up to this was too great. As his cock pressed into her once again she felt herself getting incredibly close to her climax.

"Cum for me baby," he begged her and she could feel by his cock growing slightly larger inside of her that he was on the verge of letting go. The thought of his hot cum inside her pushed her over the edge, and she began orgasming in strong pulsating waves, gripping his hard cock and pulling it even further into her. Her orgasm was his last straw, and as he let out a loud groan she felt his cum inside her. He remained on top of her and insider her, letting their breathing slow down. She rubbed his back gently.

"God I missed this," he confessed, slowly rolling off of her and onto his side. She smiled. She missed this and him more than she could ever articulate into words. But with a sad realization, she knew this would have to come to an end eventually. Yet she decided to give them one more night to relive the old times.

"Did you watch the game today?" he asked, switching subjects.

"You know I did." He smiled.

"I always do better when I know you're watching," he confessed.

"Really?" she asked, taken aback and flattered.

"Yeah, I guess I probably secretly try to impress you," he said and she admired his sudden vulnerability, since it was rare for him to open up about his feelings like this.

"I'm always impressed by you. I have been since high school. You know that," she stated plainly. It was true, she always found Klay's athletic ability and drive to succeed impressive. But what she found most impressive was his big heart, the way he loved his family, the way he cared about his teammates. He was a good man, an honorable man, despite the fact that the media would sometimes try to paint him otherwise.

"Yeah, I know mami," he replied and rolled onto his back, deep in thought. Now it was her turn to move onto her side as she nuzzled close to him. What was the harm in cuddling for one night? It was her birthday, after all. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her forehead, but she could tell from the expression on his face he was thinking about something. She wouldn't ask, didn't want to start up the subject again and cause an argument. She just wanted to enjoy this last rendezvous for what it was. And it was right when she was on the verge of that precipice, the state between awake and asleep, when she heard him whisper "I love you" into her hair, and she realized that they had just made things a lot more difficult for themselves.

[m-oana-archive]

Heartsease: a Wolfstar fanfiction

Summary: While contemplating the consequences of coming out, Remus finds himself falling more and more in love with Sirius Black everyday. Meanwhile, Sirius seeks out new romances, hopeful it will distract him from the one person he really wants, but knows he can't have.

Part One: “What are you looking for?”

POV: Remus | Words: 5152 | beta: @inflictionofopinions <3 | Read on AO3 | 

The high-speed flashes of green and yellow flying by seemed to intensify the arc of the May rainfall, splattering the crowd with water straight in their still smiling faces. Of course, the players were much worse off, being occasionally caked with thick layers of mud after being pushed off of brooms from high altitudes, or having particularly thick droplets hinder their vision. But from his left, a constant voice rang in Remus’ ears, promising, “Rain games are the absolute best, Moony. It’s about due time we had a good rain game.”

Remus did not mind the rain; if anything, he loved the sensation of its freshness, both in how it felt against his skin and how it left behind cloudless, crisp air in its wake. But despite the enthusiasm that overflowed in James’ delivery, there was no way he could imagine playing Quidditch in these conditions could be enjoyable in the slightest. Still, the energy was tangible; the Slytherin Beater who knocked a Bludger out of its path mere minutes after being pushed into a pit of dirt didn’t seem to be struggling under the weight of mud on his uniform, but thriving from the adrenaline the rain gave him. After the accomplishment, the Beater pumped his fist off and grinned in a way that made Remus feel like all the rain had evaporated from his face. James, the vocal crowd member he was, shouted at the feat, saying something derogatory towards Slytherin House before finishing with, in a rather apologetic tone, “Their Beater is pretty good.”

“Pretty good looking, more like it,” Sirius added. Remus looked over at Sirius, whose messy bun was two gusts of wind from falling out, and almost agreed, but settled for a laugh that he prayed did not sound as fake as it felt. Luckily, the sounds of swooshing rain and James’ scoff washed it out enough that Sirius never replied to it, but only continued speaking. “Almost as hot as the Hufflepuff Seeker, I’d say.”

James responded without peeling his eyes or internal focus off of the game. “Eh, she’s pretty, I guess. No Lily, though—Dear Merlin! How the hell has no one scored yet?”

The laugh that Sirius and Remus shared at his reply was small, but at least it was real. “You know, Prongs,” Remus began, an incredulous smirk plastered on his glistening face, “we all know you are desperately in love with Evans, but I do have to say that if you can’t keep your eyes off of Quidditch while you talk about her, you might love Quidditch more.”

As if his body knew Remus spoke the truth, James’ mouth only managed a small grumble while he continued observing the game with more seriousness than he took most school exams. But Sirius, Sirius’ expression was the exact opposite: a smile almost as wide as his face, twinkling eyes, raised cheekbones. Remus felt completely winded by it, as if he was one of those Quidditch players flying at a high altitude that made breathing a task rather than a given. The prominence of his naturally defined jawline was only exaggerated by his grin, and Remus wondered, for the briefest of moments, if James also thought Sirius was extremely–

“Oi! Moony! What do you think?”

Once again, Remus found himself thankful for the weather, which he could blame for the pinkness of his cheeks if necessary, if Sirius had caught him undeniably scanning every facet of his face with excruciating detail. Remus blinked his eyes twice, feeling the dampness of rain between his lashes, before Sirius turned his way and Remus made eye contact, bravely seeking clarification.

“The Hufflepuff Seeker,” he answered shortly. Remus preferred his annoyance over teasing knowingness, however. He had gotten away with the crime sans punishment.

“Oh,” Remus said while gulping down the remaining presence of shock in his throat. “Yeah, she’s really pretty. Really nice… skin.”

Even James, Quidditch-obsessed and intent on finding new strategies to improve his team for their next game, couldn’t deny himself erupting in laughter alongside Sirius at Remus’ comment. “Ya know, Moons, one of these days you’re going to have to admit to your own cravings,” he mentioned between staggered breaths. “Obviously, don’t like, objectify. But you can say that you like someone’s body, at the very least.”

Remus forced out a laugh that was as uneven as James’ and Sirius’ breathing. But I’m not attracted to her body, he wanted to scream, scream loudly enough for the Ravenclaws sitting on the other side of the stands, separated by panting athletes and the thick stream of rain, to hear. He wanted to yell that confession but leave the honesty there, please, at just one confession and return to the normal monotony of sixth year. Because Remus didn’t exactly know if admitting he never felt attracted to the curviness of a woman’s hips was a key that would open the floodgates to other things, but other things he didn’t want to confess to.

Luckily, Hufflepuff barely missed scoring again when Remus knew he was expected to reply, causing an uproar that raged through the crowd and distracted Sirius and James from what they didn’t know. For years Remus had existed through this kind of careful footwork and fortunate coincidences, leading his friends off the scent, much to his relief.

Even though Sirius never hid the cubic studs he wore. Even though James sat through a months’ worth of detention for publically punching Lucius Malfoy after he charmed Sirius’ flag pin into neatly organized patches of blue, pink, and yellow dust. Even though Remus opened plenty of doors and seen Sirius’ tongue deeply lodged in a boy’s mouth, and even though James only ever teased Remus about walking in on them, again, and not about what Remus had walked in on. Even though everything would be better than fine, would be filled with love and support, it wasn’t just about Remus being attracted to men. It was about which one he was attracted to, the black-haired asshole with graceful hands and an unholy smirk, and the possibility of him finding out through a relentless stream of questioning, and the certainty of how that would destroy their friendship to an irreparable point.

Remus was getting ahead of himself once again, like always. He thought before his logic could get ahead of the train, usually in order to stop the train from running over him. Remus took a deep breath. He was at a Quidditch match with his friends, the Hufflepuff Seeker was pretty, and it was raining. That’s all he knew with complete certainty. And that the now infamous Hufflepuff Seeker had just returned, Golden Snitch in hand, angry Slytherin trailing close behind, mere seconds before the first Quaffle went through the Hufflepuff goal post.

The crowd exploded in a combination of rage and excitement, causing Remus to barely be able to hear the commentator announce the Hufflepuff victory of 150 to zero points, which was some kind of record that left James absolutely flabbergasted beside him. He was an unmoving skeleton, all open-mouthed, and unable to take his wide eyes off of the quickly emptying Quidditch pitch. Sirius and Remus attempted to shake him out of this state of absolute shock for several minutes before a curly-haired girl in canary yellow came out and did the job within a matter of seconds.

“James?” she asked. “You okay?”

James looked at her rather indignantly. “Steph, do you just realized you won 150 to zero, which has never happened in the history of Quidditch? And you did it?”

She laughed softly, as if she was afraid of terrifying James back into his previous state. “I didn’t do it. We did. I wasn’t out there blocking every Bludger and running Slytherin into the ground with exhaustion. I just caught the Snitch. That’s all.” Each of the three of them to reacted to her response differently: James scoffed, Sirius chuckled, and Remus smiled, realizing that this girl with the “really nice skin” actually had beautiful skin, and a smile to match. Steph continued speaking before James seized an opportunity to disagree, inviting the entire Gryffindor House to celebrate alongside Hufflepuff for their tie in Quidditch points.

For the first time in far too long, James’ face held an emotion of joy instead of one of shock, focus, frustration, or a combination of the three. “That sounds awesome. I’ll let everyone know,” he grinned, and Steph had a farewell smile on her face, before James’ continuation forced her to stay. “These are Sirius and Remus, by the way. Both also in Gryffindor.”

“I know,” she said, still wearing that same look, trapped, but now projecting to all three of them, instead of just James. “We had Herbology together last year. I hope to see you guys tonight.”

She left in the same quiet simplicity with which she entered, confirming for Remus that the rain blurring the air between the two of them, while it masked her sweet smile and beautiful hazel eyes, did not hide any attraction towards her. And that’s why, when James turned towards Remus with raised eyebrows and a shit-eating grin, repeating Remus’ earlier line of “really nice skin” with emphasis on the “really,” Remus forced a laugh at the ground, trying to look flustered. But if there was something that Remus was flustered about, it was how the interaction with Steph left Sirius looking at Remus in the same teasing way as James, and Remus couldn’t handle being under Sirius’ gaze like that in the slightest.

“I’m just saying that ‘Hufflepuff’ and ‘party’ seem like they don’t belong in the same sentence.”

Remus cringed at the contrast between James’ buoyant voice and the smooth brass instruments that radiated from his record player, causing a clutter of incompatible sounds that echoed through their dorm room. Sirius sat, rather unbothered by the jostling, on the floor near a pile of James’ clothes that had once graced the man’s body but deemed unworthy during James’ vigorous process of considering an outfit from every possible angle in their full-length mirror. Therefore, the job of challenging James’ statement was left in Remus’ hands.

“If you’re so convinced this will be a flop, why have you gone through your entire wardrobe looking for the perfect outfit?” Remus accused without looking up from the page.

While popping the collar of his flannel up, James responded, “Lily, of course. The entire Gryffindor House is going. And I want to look perfect. And I do.”

Remus only allowed himself to cast a ghost of a look towards James, who spun in a delicate circle while Sirius wolf-whistled, basking in the faux attention. He looked handsome, at best. Not perfect. Perfect was too heavy a word, so heavy that when it is spoken, you could almost reach out and grab it from the mid-conversation air. Perfect was, in Remus’ humble opinion, saved for describing only the most methodically proven flawlessness, like having a test with no errors, sipping and savoring hot chocolate during an intimately shared sunrise, or, when Remus could admit it to himself, maybe even someone he knew he shouldn’t be describing with that term.

But maybe just a glance was permissible, a sideways shy one as Sirius took James’ place and made sure his own outfit of a silver necklace, ripped, black jeans and a dangerously translucent white button down was enough. He smoothed down the fabric against his chest, and suddenly Remus wished those were his hands that got to brush against Sirius. Remus turned back into his novel quickly, scoffing into the worn pages, attempting to decrease his desire by turning it into irritation. As if Sirius needs to check. He could look good in a potato sack.

“Are you really wearing that again?” James asked, interrupting his frustrated thoughts. Remus glanced down at his tan jumper and rolled up jeans, the outfit he did, in fact, wear to the Quidditch game, along with his beige Timberlands that were on the floor, still damp from the rain which would freeze his feet once he stepped outside.

Remus lowered his book slowly and redirected his focus at James’, so there was a stalled moment where his eyes and cocked brows were all that could be seen. Then, once the book was placed on his bedsheets, Remus wordlessly got up, reached under his bed, retrieved his white high-top Converse, slipped them on so his mattress blocked his feet from Sirius and James’ view, then, once they were laced up, stepped into Sirius and James’ line of vision.

All Remus said was, “Different shoes. Happy?”

Sirius’ laughter at the exchange made Remus’ heart pang a little too deeply inside of his chest. James stuck his tongue out at Remus, thankfully distracting him from the heat rising up on his face after having Sirius look at him for that long, and then walked towards the door and left. For a minute, Remus felt his hands beginning to shake, as he was in no state to be left alone with Sirius. Luckily, through the still open door, James wailed, “Hurry up, guys!”

As they descended from the staircase, Remus drowned out James’ babbling about how he was going to be with Lily for the entirety of the night, focusing on calming his shaking hands, and he really could have, if it weren’t for James’ informing that caused Sirius to say, with accidental silkiness, “I guess it will just be us two, then, Moons.” Remus’ foot slipped and he almost fell down the steep decline of the dormitory staircase, really wished he did, to be honest. Anything to get away from Sirius as the preemptive heat of a heavy blush filled up Remus’ face.

It was a difficult decision, but Remus chose to put all his energy in making a quick reply of “sounds great,” in a way that didn’t sound like he was gasping for air instead of fighting back against the painfully obvious redness on his cheeks. And so they kept trudging forwards, James bouncing on the Converse-clad pads of his feet and verbally dreaming up his nightly agenda with Lily, Remus trying to keep his head down at all costs, and Sirius putting his hair up in one of those godforsaken messy buns once more, young moonlight flashing against his studs and necklace.

Surprisingly, it was neither one of his friends that made Remus look up from the concrete that turned into dirt that turned into grass; a large firework of red and gold exploded over their heads, then separated into a “G” and “H” for each house, rendering an equally loud boom of applause from the audience. Once the clapping and arson quieted down, the area near Black Lake was still alive in sounds and colors, as flashing fairy lights strung about the trees changed hues to punctuate the beats of the loud music which was playing from some mysterious source. The laughter, dancing, and talking that ensued only intensified the sight.

“Yeah,” Sirius said with a tone that made the smirk on his face obvious without having to see it. “Hufflepuffs have no idea how to throw a good party.”

Remus wasn’t sure if it was the fact that James was unable to be wrong about the Hufflepuff party, the fact the three of them couldn’t find Lily anywhere, or a combination of the two that placed a semi-permanent scowl on his face as they walked through the party. Other than Lily, James’ initial theory was correct: everyone from Gryffindor was there, even the first years, some of whom were trying to sweet-talk the pale-haired Hufflepuff bartender into giving them “just one glass” of Firewhiskey. Because of the rather immaculately realistic lion’s head that she wore as a headdress and, more obviously, it was Pandora they were talking to, Remus was surprised at the fact she didn’t indulge in the first years’ cravings. It was, therefore, all the more amusing to see the look on their faces when Remus got three glasses of Firewhiskey for himself, Sirius, and James in the middle of their pleading.

“Oh, Remus, I think you’d honestly prefer this,” Pandora said while handing him a half-red, half-yellow mug, filled almost to the point of overflow. “It’s a play on this Muggle drink called Irish Coffee, where Irish whiskey is put in coffee with cream on the top. But, we prefer hot chocolate, so we make it with that instead. We call it Huff HC.” Without further hesitation, Remus took a sip, instantaneously finding himself obsessed with the drink. “It’s what got me through O.W.L.’s, if I’m being honest.”

Remus smiled. “Why the hell haven’t I been to a Hufflepuff party before?” Pandora laughed and shrugged, turning back to the everpresent first years, obviously having nothing else to say. But a voice to Remus’ left answered instead, causing him to turn his body so quickly, he almost dropped the three drinks.

“Because then we have to share the good drinks with you,” Steph retorted with a sarcastic tone that vehemently opposed her immediate reaction of making sure Remus’ grasp on the drinks remained steady. “And then you almost spill them.”

Pandora wordlessly placed another mug of Huff HC between them, which Steph collected quickly to place between her still-smirking lips. “I’m glad you made it,” she said once the cup was lifted from her mouth. “I already said ‘hi’ to Sirius and James, who are waiting for their Firewhiskey, by the way.”

Remus looked over at them, James’ wide hand gestures and Sirius’ unmoving body telling him that they were in some kind of meaningless fight. He chuckled before responding, “Yeah, they’re impatient, aren’t they?” He couldn’t resist taking another sip of his drink, rather haphazardly, after shooting the blow.

“Yeah. They couldn’t make it in Hufflepuff with that kind of impatience.”

Remus had to remind himself he was swallowing a beverage, or else he would have opened his mouth and shot Huff HC down his chin at her remark.

“That’s…” he trailed off, looking for something to say, but only being met with Steph’s cocked eyebrow. “That’s house discrimination, that’s what that is.”

“We are those who are ‘unafraid of toil.’ That has patience written all over it.”

“Well, it takes patience, to, uh, let yourself become brave,” Remus weakly responded, causing Steph to shake in laughter so vigorously he thought her drink might spill out of the two-toned cup. His heart felt dizzier than it should while watching her laugh, and, for once, he let himself not blame it on the alcohol, the alcohol that was taking the place of anxiety in his blood.

Steph quieted down, looking at Remus with a glint of something new in her eye. “Contrary to what you might think, I didn’t come here to offend any house. I actually came over to, uh, ask you if you wanted to dance with me.”

Relief hit Remus like a freight train. His mind unclenched, ceasing worry towards the curves and dips he was unsure of mere hours before, the handsome Slytherin boy that was so far from him, because he could do this, dance with a beautiful girl underneath beautiful lights to shitty music. He could find a way to rid his mind of James and Sirius– James and Sirius!

“I still need to get my friends these drinks,” Remus started, “but then, yeah. I’d love to dance with you.”

Either Steph both had the patience of a Hufflepuff and bravery of a Gryffindor, or she couldn’t feel the sensation on her skin due to the light wind and crisp air billowing through the party, but she blushed at Remus’ comment without any nuance of concern creasing her face, making Remus really wish he could blush, too.

“I actually have an idea,” Steph said to Remus, before shifting her body towards Pandora, still stuck unsuccessfully swatting away desperate first-years. “Dora, would you mind taking these shots to Sirius and James?” The tiredness seemed to lift off of Pandora’s face as she mouthed a sincere “thank you” to Steph, finally able to escape the first-years for but a shining few minutes. Remus was taken aback by Steph’s cleverness.

“That was really smart,” he said, worriless about his shock pouring through his voice as Steph was about letting her blush shine through the lights they walked under.

“I almost got put in Ravenclaw, you know.” Steph was walking beside Remus, leading him towards louder music and more movement, and when Remus realized they were almost there, he was both thankful and angry she didn’t try and lead him over by holding his hand.

“Why didn’t you?”

The shadows cast by the trees almost blocked out her slim smile. “I’m only clever when it helps me.”

As they sat their drinks down at a cluttered table, as they approached the dance floor right when a slow song was beginning, as Steph questioned if it was alright with her eyes and Remus responded by putting his hand on a hip and the other on her shoulder, Remus wanted to let out a scream that would absorb the world and leave him alone at an empty party. Because Steph was so witty, endearing, more than just nice skin but had that, too. She let the pick ups and dips of the song ride into how she approached dancing to it, laughing while enthusiastically singing the lyrics of lighter parts while almost placing her head on Remus’ chest at others. She was fun and amusing and said all the right things, even if they weren’t right for Remus, and she was a girl with curves and more than just pretty skin and a smile to match and she shone almost as brightly as the moonlight they danced under and she was a girl but Remus couldn’t stop wondering what this would feel like with someone else, someone with a thicker necklaced with a silver chain, because when he touched her all he felt was fabric, no fire, while just the thought of dancing with Sirius made him feel like he had fourteen Huff HC’s, not a fourth of one. And Remus wanted to scream.

The dance took too long, left him breathless in the worst form of the phrase. Steph sensed it, too, and that was the worst part. He could feel her asking if he was okay as he glanced back towards James and Sirius; James, who was gone, probably with Lily, and Sirius, who was drinking another glass of Firewhiskey with a look as intoxicating as his drink on his face. His soon empty cup was handed to a tall figure, who spoke shortly with Sirius before leaving him alone, with crossed arms and a complacent gaze. The stature was so lacking in Sirius’ regular energy, his regular openness, something hot hit Remus’ chest, almost taking him down to the floor.

“Shit, I forgot, I told Sirius I’d hang out with him once James left with Lily,” he told Steph with concern not towards his lie but not knowing if the person that just approached Sirius was someone he could trust.

Steph, of course, in all of her unfair perfection, smiled and let Remus leave without a thought. So Remus had to invest all of his energy in not outright running to Sirius, who looked so concerningly complacent.

The smile Sirius greeted Remus with was weak and almost drunken. “Hey! You finally took James’ advice! She’s a beautiful girl, Remus. You should feel really lucky.”

Remus held back another scream. In attempt to rid some of the frustration bursting through his body, Remus took both of his hands and stroked them down the back of his neck. “I… I don’t even know if I like her.” Lie. “I just really don’t want to date right now.” Lie. “I need to leave, Sirius.” Finally, a true statement. Remus almost felt proud despite the circumstances. “Are you coming or staying? I don’t care.” Lie. So close to getting better, too.

“Yeah, I’ll come,” Sirius said while getting up, limbs flying in all directions before he managed to balance on two feet. Seeing his obvious incoordination and slightly slurred speech, Remus took an automatic position as the support, letting Sirius lean on him far too close for comfort as they made their way back to the Gryffindor dormitories in the pale moonlight. Once Remus finally felt able to breathe without it manifesting as some embarrassing staccato stutter, the inhale almost knocked him out. Because even though Sirius half-reeked of whatever combination of drinks he had consumed, Remus still caught a whiff of that horribly expensive coconut conditioner he used as his bun came undone, and shit, why was Sirius allowed to smell nice when he was drunk?

The record was still whirring when they returned, generating a scratchy noise that made Sirius yelp. “I know, I agree,” Remus laughed knowingly. “I’ll turn it off once I get you a pillow and a blanket.” And by some grace of God, Remus was able to lay a foggy Sirius down onto the floor, still wearing shoes and all, so he could make it to the record player whilst Sirius’ complaints of “come back, Remus” rang at a higher pitch than the record player scratches ever could.

Remus pinched himself on the wrist after his heart swelled at Sirius’ constant begs, at Sirius saying his name so sweetly it could give someone a stomachache. He huffed angrily, wanting to switch records, but settling with replaying the same one, just so his pathetically confused body could lay next to a Sirius who wasn’t even sure what he was asking Remus to do.

After unfurling the blanket and letting it settle over Sirius’ curled up body, Remus laid down so his head was next to Sirius’ pillow, but the rest of his body was pointing the other way, and, goddamnit, Sirius was even gorgeous from upside down.

His exhales were doused with alcohol. Remus knew from personal experience that Sirius’ breath had been heavier with scotch or whiskey or brews before, that he probably wouldn’t need to get a bin for Sirius, but Sirius definitely would only remember the events of the night with a fuzzy blur. And maybe it was the knowledge of that perfect balance that lent Remus more safety tonight than any, or maybe it was him being overcome with the fact he felt more laying next to his best friend than with his hand on a girl’s hip, or maybe he was tired of pretending and just needed one moment of exhalation before he could definitely figure things out. So he found himself looking at the ceiling, asking Sirius, “How did you know you were pan?”

Sirius rolled about the ground so his head was facing the ceiling, alongside Remus’. “I was so young, I almost don’t remember.” He laughed, but only for a beat, before killing the sound starkly. “I guess, like, gender didn’t matter when it came to people I found attractive. Regulus, he always talked about girls so much. It was just girls and girls and girls. Like James with Lily. But I felt like I was lying when I agreed with him sometimes– well I technically was. By omission, anyways. But you know when you can feel that? When you agree, even though you know you’re lying?” A chord struck deep within Remus’ chest which he wished was due to his favorite song on the track beginning to play. “And I felt like there was another part of my attraction that I wasn’t talking about that I wish I could. And I think that initial want, that’s what made it clear. Like I wanted to say something like, ‘dude, have you fucking seen Fabian Prewett lately? His ass could cure world hunger.’ Yeah. Talking with Reg was a big influence, I guess.”

Remus gulped, trying to push away all the times he had agreed with James on how hot a girl is while imaging Sirius’ lips. “Were you ever, like, unsure of it?”

“Unsure? No. I mean, my mother beat me on the head with a stick and tried to force me to reconsider. ‘It’s not a pureblood thing to be gay,’ she’d say. So I’d say, ‘well then let’s hope I marry a woman, because I’m pan.’ But I always knew on some level, as they say.”

“As who says?”

Sirius chuckled, not letting this one die prematurely. “You. You say that all the time. ‘I knew, on some level, that lighting a bench on fire would equate to exactly three months of detention,’” Sirius said in a slightly deeper tone, mocking Remus, making him smile. “‘These two characters in my book finally kissed. I knew, on some level, they’d get together. And I was right, of course, because I’m Remus.’” Sirius laughed and laughed, and Remus wondered why he had a record player on when there was music right here, next to him.

“I-I’m not always right,” Remus said, hoping that a buzzed Sirius wouldn’t understand it the depth of the confession.

“Oh, please. Show me a test of yours that didn’t have perfect marks and I’ll believe you.”

“But that’s just studying, Sirius. There’s more to life than that. And all those other parts, relationships, girls, emotions…. I’m usually wrong about those.”

Remus heard Sirius’ hair skim across the pillowcase as Sirius turned his head towards him. “Steph is pretty, though. And really, really cool.”

Remus breathed deeply, hoping the fresh set of oxygen would inspire him to say something that would help him, not continue building up this wall between him and Sirius and James he had been constructing ever since he started questioning who he was really attracted to. “I don’t want to date her, though. We just, we just don’t click like that. She’s not what I’m looking for.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Someone who I feel safe with but also, you know, makes me feel all dizzy inside.”

Sirius nodded into the pillow. Remus tried not to imagine who made Sirius understand that contradiction.  “She’s really hot though…”

Remus gritted his teeth, clenched and unclenched his jaw and fists, before answering, as nonchalantly as possible, “It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m just saying she’s hot. So is Alice, if you saw her walk in with Lily.”

Out of anger, desperation, a flash of jealousy Remus did not want to indulge in, Remus felt himself almost screaming, “Dear Merlin, Sirius, will you stop talking about girls!” But he sucked in the words right when they were at the threshold of his lips, an indescribable emotion blazing through every crevice of his body and soul.

Because, for the love of all things holy, wasn’t that what Sirius had wanted to say to Regulus? When he was deep in hiding but knew, knew with the most certainty, he wasn’t straight?

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KEEP READING: Part Two: “Goodnight, Moon”

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Taglist (let me know if you want to be added): @siriuslyimmoony 

[junker-town]

The 11 best NBA workout videos of Summer 2019

Who put out the hardest workout mixtape of the summer in the NBA? These are our favorites.

The NBA offseason workout video has become a ubiquitous part of basketball’s summer culture. If a player dunks in a dark gym and no one is around to put it on Instagram, did it ever really happen?

Damian Lillard chided his peers with a brilliant spoof last year, but it hasn’t stopped the workout video movement from continuing. NBA players covered every angle this summer: we got big men shooting threes, players working out with their dads, players working out with their kids, stars competing against each other in five-on-five, Dwight Howard competing against nobody, and one of the best young players in the world doing drills while catching a racquetball.

At this point, nothing surprises us. These are our favorite NBA workout videos of summer 2K19.

Karl-Anthony Towns has the most obstacle-heavy mixtape

KAT's workout is tough. (via _zachleach/Instagram) pic.twitter.com/9eEPBK6A9g

— House of Highlights (@HoHighlights) August 3, 2019

The next time someone throws a racquetball at Towns as he dribbles coast-to-coast for a dunk, he is going to be prepared. It’s a new era in Minnesota, people!

This is my favorite genre of the NBA summer workout mixtape: the one that combines basketball with obstacles. It is exactly what Lillard was parodying last year, though it’s also easy to see how these drills could help help a player’s hand-eye coordination, focus, and balance. Towns is already one of the most complete offensive big men in the league at 23 years old, a 7-footer who nearly put up 50/40/90 shooting splits last year. Hopefully the racquetball drills help his defense, too.

Zach LaVine has the most father-friendly mixtape

Zach LaVine's dad is making him work. #Bulls pic.twitter.com/de6cSc9aH9

— Bulls Nation (@BullsNationCP) June 4, 2019

“Get your ass in shape. Stop f*cking around.”

These are the delightful words of wisdom from LaVine’s father as he puts his son through a resistance ban workout in the sand that seems to target LaVine’s finishing ability as he gets tired late in games. Smart thinking, because LaVine was putting up massive usage rate numbers for the Bulls in crunch time last year.

There’s also a video of LaVine splashing threes and dunking from a pickup run earlier this summer if that’s more your style. We’re partial to seeing a dad still helping his son long after he’s grown up and turned himself into a bonafide NBA scorer.

Ben Simmons has the most implausible shooting performance

My La runs player spotlight @BenSimmons25 @swishcultures_ pic.twitter.com/wbvCsY7nVn

— Chris Johnson Hoops (@ChrisJHoops) July 23, 2019

Simmons has never made a three in his NBA career, a stat all Philadelphia fans are deeply aware of. Fear not, #lickface nation: Simmons can shoot now, at least according to this workout video.

That first pull-up three looked flawless, didn’t it? And that fadeaway? Smooth. Even the pull-up jumper from about 18-feet in the third clip would be an enormous addition to Simmons’ offensive arsenal. You have to love that nasty double-pump reverse dunk, too. I agree with Jackson Frank of Liberty Ballers that it’s likely unlikely Simmons ever becomes a competent shooter, but that’s part of what makes summer workout videos so much fun. Simmons has been in a few of these if you want more looks at that jumper.

James Harden created the best new move

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For game. @jharden13 #knowyourbigpicture #familyforever #theblueprint

A post shared by Darico "Rico" Hines (@ricohinesbball) on Aug 18, 2019 at 3:49pm PDT

Harden warned us he was going to come up with a new move that would make y’all mad. He has now blessed us with a sneak preview of what he was working on: a turnaround, side-step, one-footed three. It’s beautiful and perfect and I can’t wait wait to see it in a real game.

The Rockets are going to be a very different team with Russell Westbrook in place of Chris Paul this year, with a lot more emphasis on transition scoring and potentially less isolations in stalled halfcourt sets. That all sounds great, but let’s hope we still get to see Harden work his magic against set defenses with moves like this one.

Carmelo Anthony and Lou Williams were the best parents

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This is so dope!!!! @blackops.basketball @harrington1313

A post shared by Chris Brickley (@cbrickley603) on Aug 26, 2019 at 7:08pm PDT

If you can fight off feeling 100 years old while watching this, it’s so cool to see Anthony pass on his moves to his young son. Bronny James is already a household name as he enters his freshman year of high school. Maybe Kiyan Anthony will be one day, too. No one is going to have a better teacher.

Just as heartwarming: Williams, a standout for the Clippers, doing shooting drills with his daughter. Her jumper is already wetter than Simmons’. She obviously inherited her father’s ball handling ability, too.

Lou Will putting in work with his daughter. (via louwillville/Instagram) pic.twitter.com/4fAYXvC7Ok

— House of Highlights (@HoHighlights) September 5, 2019

Dwight Howard looked the best in an empty gym

Dwight Howard looking good in the gym! pic.twitter.com/1CmWWl2JRd

— ShowtimeForum (@ShowtimeForum) August 28, 2019

Howard has risen from rock bottom to join the Lakers once again, which might be the single most unbelievable storyline of another bonkers NBA summer. Howard reportedly beat out Joakim Noah and others for the job. Maybe the Lakers were really into empty gym workouts like this one.

Please, spare me the fire emojis here. The only thing separating this from the infamous Yi Jianlian workout is the absence of a chair. It would be a wonderful story if Howard could turn into a dependable player in his second stint in Los Angeles, but this video isn’t inspiring much confidence just yet.

D’Angelo Russell had the best Splash Brother audition

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(via @cbrickley603, @harrington1313)

A post shared by House of Highlights (@houseofhighlights) on Aug 9, 2019 at 12:20pm PDT

The Warriors are down a Splash Brother this season because of Klay Thompson’s torn ACL. Russell would like to fill out an application for the open position. He looks damn good here.

Russell’s move to Golden State is one of the most fascinating of the summer. Playing next to Steph Curry should be an amazing opportunity. As long as his Lifetime Fitness range extends to the new Chase Center is San Francisco, the Warriors should be just fine.

Dwyane Wade and Carmelo Anthony are the best tutors

D-Wade said he can’t stay out the gym ( @swishcultures_ @ChrisJHoops ) pic.twitter.com/4CQRZCWTyh

— NBA Central (@TheNBACentral) August 28, 2019

Wade is retired, but as he says in this video, he can’t stay out of the gym. Here he is giving Josh Hart instruction on how to look off the defense on a baseline push shot. It’s little things like this where Wade can be an invaluable mentor to younger players. The Pelicans appreciate the free lesson for Hart.

Anthony isn’t just instructing his son. Watch him give pointers to new Knicks forward Julius Randle, who signed a two-year deal with New York in the offseason. It’s great to see Anthony helping his former team even as he waits for an offer from an NBA team.

#NBA │ Julius Randle soaking up game from Melo (via @tylerrelph10/IG) pic.twitter.com/vsPQIeViJQ

— NOW Hoops (@NOW_Hoops) August 31, 2019

Lonzo Ball has most optimistic workout tape

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Lonzo Ball’s 1st day back on the court. (via @prosvision_, @paul_devia)

A post shared by House of Highlights (@houseofhighlights) on Aug 18, 2019 at 5:06pm PDT

Ball has the most maligned shot in the NBA this side of Ben Simmons. He looks a lot more like the UCLA Lonzo who shot 41 percent from three than the NBA Lonzo who shot 41 percent on free throws last season in this video. The video almost says it’s Ball’s first day back on the court almost six months after being sidelined with a serious ankle injury.

This video also has my favorite Instagram comment: “Man spent all of his VC on tats”. That is an NBA 2K reference for the uninitiated. Lonzo’s ink has gotten a lot of publicity this summer.

Giannis Antetokounmpo had the best shooting instructor

Giannis Antetokounmpo working on his shot with Kyle Korver (IG: BigSack42) pic.twitter.com/dNSNNjUdTt

— NBA Central (@TheNBACentral) July 23, 2019

If Giannis gets a jump shot is one of the most repeated phrases within the NBA discourse right now. The Bucks star is already arguably the best player in the world. Imagine if defenses had to respect his shooting range. We could be talking about GOAT territory.

Credit Antetokounmpo for putting the work in this summer. He he is with Kyle Korver working on his form. There is no better shooting coach to work with.

Anthony Davis had the most *eyes emoji* mixtape

Anthony Davis got handles like THAT (via @dribble2much) pic.twitter.com/cv1T8mSAld

— Overtime (@overtime) June 19, 2019

Davis got his wish with a trade to the Lakers and booked Space Jam 2 this summer. Then he spent the rest of the offseason reminding people he’s basically a guard in a big man’s body by doing some mesmerizing ball handling and shooting drills that were caught on video.

In case the guard training isn’t doing it for you, here’s Davis dunking with a weighted vest on. The Lakers need him at the peak of his abilities to realize their championship dreams this season. Davis looks ready.

[browniefox]

Pro No Evens - YOLMT 5

Pro No Evens - You Only Live Multiple Times 5

In Which People Start To Combine Forces

Part 1 Part 4

“Okay. Tell me about it.”

In the armchair across from Felix, Cry sat, not looking at Felix. His hands kept going up to his face, tracing the smooth, unblemished surface that it was. The Faceless had burst into Felix’s room in the middle of the night, panting heavily like he’d just run a marathon. He’d managed to convince Marzia that it wasn’t anything important enough for her to get out of bed too. 

“In The Realms,” Cry’s voice was... unfocused. He stared past everything, seeming to have aged in the few hours since Felix had last seen him. “I got  burned. My face was scarred from it.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “I wore the same mask there.” 

Felix, for once, doesn’t say anything. He waits patiently for Cry to find words. God knows it took him weeks to properly articulate even a portion of the mess in his head.

“There was a younger girl I cared deeply for.” His finger runs along his chin, following a nonexistent curving scar up to his eyes. “A... sister, I think. She didn’t mean to.”

“Tell me more.” Felix urges. He wonders whether or not to grab some alcohol, if that would help.

“JP, Lady Foxglove’s boy, he was there. He was... close, to my sister.” Cry groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. The lights flicker for a moment, but just the moment. “I can remember a woman, and holding her in my arms. And spending days and nights with her. And the number five.” He looks at the palm of his hand, face pinched in confusion and concentration. “There were small white creatures. Big blank eyes, toothy grins-”

“Sup guys.” Felix blinks in surprise as the name comes to him.

“Yeah, sup guys.” Cry nods. “In the woods and the cave.”

“I remember dresses of black and standing before Felix’s grave.” 

Both men jump and turn to see Marzia standing in the doorway. Her hair is a mess, she is still in her night clothes (but then again, so is Felix) and her eyes look very tired.

“You don’t need to keep things from me Felix.” Marzia walks in, and Cry’s hand flounders around on the side table for his mask. Felix can feel his sudden distress at not having it on, though Marzia has seen his face before. At least, this Marzia has.

“I didn’t want to worry you.” Felix runs his hand through his hair, looking at his wife Marzia. “I didn’t think you’d know, or understand.”

“I can’t ‘remember’ much,” Marzia concedes. “But I want to be here to support you. Whatever we had in that other place, it’s not gone. We can rebuild it.” Felix looks away from her.

“It probably doesn’t matter. It’s just thoughts and dreams.” He tries to brush it off, to keep her from the complicated maze that has become his memories.

“And it’s shattering windows.” She smirks at him. “I’m not deaf or blind Felix.”

And there is a Press, different from the confusion rolling off of Cry. It is comforting and full of love.

And the three of them sit there, in that room, discussing where to go from here. 

oOo

The piano.

Dan had had one in The Realms.

PJ wasn’t sure what had happened to it. 

When Dan had come into Freddy’s tonight, he’d ran his hand across the top of it and set his fingers on the keys lightly, looking down on it. PJ didn’t have to ask to know the war going on in the other’s head. Two separate memories of learning the keys, of different teachers and different concerts and what the piano meant to him. 

In a lull of the music, as Jack gulped down another beer and Dan rested his hands for a moment, PJ looked around Freddy’s, drink in his own hand. Things had been coming easier since his meeting with Dan. The Realms were still skulking in the random corners of his mind, springing on him at the strangest time and reacting to the weirdest thing.

But now they weren’t strange ciphers when they appeared. They were easier to understand, easier to place where it matched up with the other random tidbits. The biggest question that PJ had was what it all meant. It couldn’t just be some kind of shared insanity. No, The Realms seemed too real. But they were a thing of fantasy, a different kind of crazy. 

He looks at Wade, and he sees a man prepared to do what he must for his people. PJ is to take over the Italian Mob and Wade works for Molly. But when he sees the other, he feels a loyalty in his core. Wade meets his eyes from where he is across the room, and his back stiffens. He takes a drink from his glass, but his hand is shaking. PJ takes a leap of faith.

“I’ll be back in second, okay?” PJ smiles at Jack (at least he was still a normal, good friend). 

“Somehow, I’m sure we can make the music work without you, as hard as it will be.” Jack replies with a grin just a bit too crazy. Probably too much to drink. PJ winces as he thinks about the beating Dan’s fingers are about to take. His own are already a bit sore, but that was mostly from pushing pins into a board for a hour or two.

Wade watches him on his entire journey down from the stage and to his table. He sits down on the other side of him as a band of only piano and drums attempt to make something resembling music. They don’t do half bad. When PJ sits down, Wade finally opens his mouth, but PJ just holds up a hand. He sorts through the muddle Realms thoughts.

“Where’s Pat?” 

Wade looks like he could break his glass with the sudden tensing of his body. He stares at PJ more, eyes taking in the details of his face as if it’s the first the time. 

“He’s a cop PJ.”

“And you’re a king.”

Of all the things that PJ had said, he thought it was the more absurd thing he could come up with in the jumble of his head. 

“I... I might be.”

oOo

Stephanie is shaking as she enters the Greenhouse.

She shouldn’t be here. She should trust that her husband knows what he’s doing. She shouldn’t mess with things she knows nothing about. 

She wouldn’t want to end up like Jason. 

But she continues on in through the doors anyway. When a few women approach her, she requests to meet with Madam Foxglove. They look at each other, and whisper, and Stephanie’s hand clenches tighter on the paper in her hand. They guide her to a room and tell her to wait. 

She waits.

Foxglove walks in, and she looks so elegant. She is in her element here. There is another woman behind her, a bodyguard or some sort more likely than not. The door closes behind them. Stephanie notices.

She sees the small marks on the side the bodyguard’s head, an indent similar to what one who wore glasses would have. She sees the small bulge, just barely there, in Foxglove’s dress. A weapon. Steph just barely stops herself from bolting.

“Madam Foxglove,” She says with a strength she doesn’t really feel. “Do you know where Mr. Barnes was last night?” 

“Wade may go where he pleases. He is his own person.” The woman responds, but Steph can see she’s caught the other’s interest. 

“I know where he was, Madam. He was at my house. He ate my soup.” The bodyguard gives a not when Foxglove looks back, like she’s confirming this. “I am Stephanie Patrick. My husband is Detective Matthew Patrick.” 

She half expects this to put the others on edge, and yet she’s not at all surprised when the two women remain completely calm, showing to shock towards this. Stephanie finally stands from the seat she had been sitting in.

“They talked about you, and they talked about me, but more importantly they talked about many other things. I thought that it may do you good, to know what’s going on in his life.” Stephanie offers the crumpled paper. Now, finally, Madam Foxglove looks suspicious, eyes the notes.

“Why?” Is all she says.

“Because I know what it’s like to have one you love shut you out for things they think are bigger than people.” 

Foxglove motions for Stephanie to sit back down.

“Then let’s talk.” 

oOo

Pat can understand worrying about Gar.

Gar’s still in his rookie year, after all.

But checking in on Felix is strange, almost ridiculous

oOo

“I was an orphan, and at the orphanage there was a girl, older than I though still young.”

Ethan took a sip of his coffee. Virid looked into their own, as if reading the past in the dark liquid.

“Her name was Hyacinth, though nicknames were commonly substituted for it. We grew up together, and grew close, and when we got old enough we left the orphanage. For a while, we owned an apartment together. But then Hyacinth started having nightmares. She’d wake in the middle of the night and knock on my door so I could comfort her. She began to look at things differently, noticing random people on the street. I worried for her, but not near as much as she worried about what was happening to her herself. She’d lock herself in her room for hours on end, insisting that was she was doing was important.”

“What happened to her?” Ethan asked.

“She left.” Virid sighed. “She wanted to know what was going on, so she left to find out who she was. She said that one day, perhaps, she’d come back. I’ve sent a letter to the last place I heard from her, but she may already be on her way to another place. So I need your help until she returns.”

“What is it you need help with?” The question had been avoided since they’d begun talking. 

Virid took out a golden medallion from their pocket, sliding it across the table to Ethan.

“When I started having weird thoughts, I went to Hyacinth’s room to see if she had anything to help it. I found these. They need to get to their owners.” Virid sounded so sure of this, and there was a light in their eyes.

“Amazing.” Ethan picked up the medal ran his finger over the pattern. “Who do they go to.”

Virid shifted nervously.

“That’s the problem. I can’t remember. But I’m hoping you can help me find them”

[epcot-anthony]

Golden Globes

The whole thing was surreal. Anthony didn’t expect this, he didn’t expect any of this at all.

When ‘She’s Gotta Have It’ got huge he didn’t expect this. Yeah, it was super cool to see this show get big but he never thought of the possibility of getting nominated for awards at huge awards shows.

So when Anthony got the call from his manager saying that 'She’s Gotta Have It’ could potentially be up for a 'Golden Globe’ his mind was blown.

Weeks after that call he was sitting on the couch with Jasmine, watching the 'Golden Globe’ nominees get announced.

“Babe I’ll be right back,” Anthony stood up, pecking his girlfriend on the cheek.

“Ant,” Jasmine grabbed his hand, “Stay. The category your show may be up for is on next.” She tried to convince him to stay. She had a good feeling about this.

“Okay..” Anthony huffed, sitting back down.

It was silent in the room when the category was announced.

“The nominees for the 'best male leading actor for a comedy series’ are….” The woman announcing started, naming a few names off. “and finally, Anthony Ramos, 'She’s Gotta Have It’.”

“Oh my god,” Is all Jasmine could whisper, “Oh my god…!” She said louder, immediately pulling Anthony close and kissing him.

Once they pulled away the two were in shock.

“You…you got nominated for a fucking golden globe award!” Jasmine exclaimed, Anthony staying silent as he tried to process what was happening.

“Holy shit,” He mumbled in shock.

A few more kisses and drinks later the two were off to celebrate, the actual award ceremony too far in the future for them to be able to freak out about that just yet.

Six months later Jasmine and Anthony were in the back of a Über in California, dressed in the fanciest clothes they’ve ever worn.

“Calm down,” Jasmine whispered, squeezing her boyfriends hand.

“I’m so nervous and the shows up for a award and I’m up for one too and holy shit..” Anthony rushed out.

“You’re gonna win, I know you will. But even if you don’t win, you’re still a winner in my heart,” Jasmine smiled, smoothing out her tight white dress.

The couple wasn’t going for matching this year but they sure as hell looked amazing together. Jasmine was in a tight fitting white dress that fit perfectly around her curves. It had the occasional silver sequin like sparkles trailing down certain parts of the dress. Meanwhile Anthony was in a black suit, his hair pulled back in a neat bun.

It took a while to get through the paparazzi and the interviews when they arrived, but they managed it.

The interviews went smoothly, often including Anthony complimenting Jasmine and her dress which caused her to blush and smile at him.

Finally they were inside, sat next to his fellow co-stars. Everyone was excited, chatting happily.

The award show started soon after, the room slowly getting quiet when needed but reaching another level of loud when needed.

Anthony’s category was slowly approaching and he was getting even more nervous by the minute. Even though Jasmine would grab his hand, gently squeezing it to try to calm him down, it wasn’t working.

The category was announced and time began moving even slower.

“Anthony Ramos, 'She’s Gotta Have It’” The woman read off his name lastly before glancing down at the card in front of her. “And the best male leading actor for a comedy series is..Anthony Ramos, 'She’s Gotta Have It’!”

Time moved slow, nothing feelings real anymore.

The only thing that brought him out of the trance he was in was Jasmine pulling him into a right hug and kissing his cheek and giving him a gentle shove forward.

Okay, you have one minute Anthony, you can’t fuck this shit up, was the only thought going through Anthony’s head.

“Okay..I didn’t expect this. I would like to thank everyone who was involved in this, I love all of you, thank you so much for believing in me. Ma, Mario, Steph…I love you and I wouldn’t be here without you, thank you for letting me do this. My love, Jasmine, thank you..thank you so much for believing in me and sticking with me through this…I love you so much baby. Alright uh the musics playing so I gotta get off stage now..Lin, Leslie, Nicolette, Renée, Sasha, Ephraim, Daveed, all of you, I love you and thank you for always being there for me. God bless.”

Anthony knew he was tearing up towards the end of the speech but he didn’t care anymore. He won this..he never thought he would win but he won and he spent this moment with the love of his life.