#mariam talks

“Stop moving,” you grumble, two warm and too comfortable and still half asleep in the embrace of your - well, was he your boyfriend? Who knows? You were friends for a long time, sleeping in the same bed was normal, but lately things had been getting more intense. Lingering touches and long stares and hugs that lasted longer than necessary (or appropriate) for just friends.

“I need to go, Y/N,” Jamie’s breath fans against your neck and jaw as he speaks. “You gotta let me go, I’ll be late.”

“No,” you whine, refusing to open your eyes when you lean in to kiss him. Your lips land on what feels like his jaw, and he chuckles. “Shut up, you’re not going anywhere, you can be late.”

“Baby,” he mumbles when your mouth finally find his. “C’mon, I gotta go.”

“Absolutely not.” To further prove your point you open your eyes halfway to roll on top of Jamie, sighing in contentment when he holds you in his arms and laying your head on his chest. “Stop moving and love me.” It takes you a second to register the words that you just said, but force yourself not to tense up and freeze and give away the anxiety bubbling inside you.

“I’ll always love you, Y/N,” Jamie murmurs into your hair. You look up at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah?” He kisses you softly. And then again. And then again.

“Yeah,” he grins, kissing you once more. “But right now I gotta go. I’ll show you how much I love you when I get back. Promise.”

7. unbreakable kiss

“Does he make you feel like I did?”

“Get out, Auston,” you don’t look at him when you say it. You can’t. “Leave, you can’t be here.”

“Answer me, Y/N,” Auston grows, grabbing your bicep and turning you towards him. “Does he make you feel like I did? Does he make you scream?” You hate the way the heat coils in your belly. You hate how your body reacts to him. “Answer me.”

“Jesus, Auston, why are you here?” you put your hands on his chest and push but he doesn’t even budge. “If you’re here to ask about my sex life or compare notes or whatever the fuck, then go away.”

“So he doesn’t make you feel like I did,” the smug grin that appears on his face is infuriating.

“What the fuck do you want from me?!” you yell, ripping your arm out of his grasp, storming away into the kitchen. “What the fuck do you want to hear?! Huh, Auston? You’re acting as if we were anything, and we weren’t! We were fuck buddies. That’s it. You didn’t want to be anything. You don’t deserve to be jealous or ask questions.”

Auston grabs your arm again and shoves you up against the counter.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” he growls, before kissing you roughly.

Oh.

Oh no. 

Kissing Auston is addictive and it’s dangerous. Because you were with him, you were with someone else and you couldn’t be kissing Auston, but -

“Stop thinking,” Auston’s voice is low and rough against your mouth. “He doesn’t matter. I’m the only one that can make you feel like this. Me.” And for once in your life, you decide to listen. You give in and let yourself forget everything and everyone except the man who was kissing you right now.

9. distracting kiss

“Baby,” you whine, climbing onto Morgan’s lap. He doesn’t spare you a glance, only shifting so that his arms are wrapped around you, resting his chin on your head and holding the controller behind your back. “Mo, c’mon.”

His eyes stay glued to the screen, the chirping of the other boys coming through the headset placed over one ear. His microphone is off so you whine again. “Morgan, c’mon I want attention.”

“You always want attention, baby,” he chuckles, the clicks of the controller continuing even as he teases you.

“Yeah, but now I want more attention.” He says nothing so you bury your face in his neck, pressing kisses up and down the column of his throat. He swallows and you dart to catch his Adam’s apple with your mouth as it bobs with the action. “C’mon, please, Fortnite will still be here tomorrow.”

“Baby,” the warning tone that Morgan uses is clear. You don’t care. You want your boyfriend right now.

“Mo, please,” you whimper pathetically against his skin. “C’mon, everything’s been so shitty for like, three days, and I miss you, c’mon.” He relaxes slightly, glancing down at you with soft eyes for a moment.

“Baby, I-”

“Please?” you lean back in to kiss his neck, many against his jaw, his cheek, and then his mouth. He lets you capture his lips in a soft, lazy kiss. “I just wanna be with you, Mo.”

oh bet. and thank u sm!

Being with Jamie wasn’t hard. At least, not at first. Everything was easy at first. The first date was beautiful, perfect. He’d picked you up and treated you like a queen, kissed you on the cheek when he took you home again. Held your hand on the second date. Kissed you properly on the third. Asked you to be officially his on the fourth. He posted you on Instagram 3 months in. You moved in after 9 months together.

It was easy to ignore the rumors at first, it was still all so new. Dating a professional athlete came with its challenges, you knew that getting into this relationship. And it was easy to ignore hateful things that fans spewed at you, lies they told about him.

But then you started getting DM’s of pictures. Him lounging around in bars or clubs, top two buttons undone with a lazy smile, talking to this girl or another. There were videos of him with those girls all over him, flirty glances he sent their way.

So you left. Every trace of you wiped from his apartment except a note left on the counter with the key placed on top. I’m sorry. I couldn’t do it anymore, the rumors and the doubt, any of it. It’s not your fault, please don’t blame yourself. I’ll always love you. Move on from me, Jamie. You deserve to. Don’t blame yourself.

Jamie did blame himself though. It was in his nature. He nursed a broken heart for months, retreating into himself, become a shell of the kind, charismatic man he once was. He kept the framed photos of you in his room. To torture himself. To serve as a constant reminder of how he could’ve done better to get rid of the doubts and he didn’t.

So when you show up at knocking his door 4 months after the day you left, Jamie feels his heart break all over again.

“Jamie,” your voice cracks. Your eye makeup is smeared, there’s bags under your eyes, and your hair is messed up. You look exactly how Jamie feels.

He still, god, he still somehow manages to look perfect, even with the dark circles under his eyes and the way his shoulders sag with exhaustion.

“Y/N,” he breathes, as if he can’t believe that you’re actually there.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stutter, “I didn’t know where else to go, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, wait!” he surges forward to catch you before you leave. “Don’t. Don’t go. Come inside. Don’t leave.” Don’t leave me again is what he wants to say, but he doesn’t have to for it to be clear.

You let him pull you inside, let him wipe away the tears that had fallen on your way here, let him undress you and change you into his sweats and his shirt. He doesn’t push you, doesn’t ask you to talk, or tell him about why you showed up at his apartment at 1 in the morning. A photo of you on his bedside table catches your eye, in the same place it was 4 months ago. Then you notice just how many photos of the two of you, or just you, were still up.

“I told you to move on, Jamie,” you murmur, sitting on the edge of his bed while he moves around his bedroom. He comes to kneel in front of you, tilting your face so that you look at him.

“How could I?” he sounds defeated, and your throat tightens at how this is your fault that he’s like this. That he was awake to even open the door the night before a game. “You’re it for me, Y/N, there’s no moving on.”

“Jamie…”

“No, listen to me,” he cuts you up, shuffling on his knees so that he’s closer to you. Even when he’s kneeling, you’re barely taller than him like this. “You’re everything to me, Y/N. You’re it for me. There could never be anyone else. And I should’ve - I should have tried harder. I should have made sure you knew that. I should have made sure you knew exactly what you meant to me and that you were the only one. That you are the only one. There’s never, ever, going to be anyone else. Even if you leave in the morning and I never see you again, you’re always going to be the one.”

A sob escapes your lips and you lean into him to press your forehead against him, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck. “I’m sorry,” you weep pathetically. “I’m sorry for leaving you, I’m sorry for not believing in you, and for doubting you. I’m sorry for doubting us. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He kisses you. It’s hesitant, like he thinks you’ll push him away, but you don’t. You kiss him back full force, the salty taste of your tears mixing into the kiss.

He kisses you again and again between the words he says.

“I’ll always forgive you.” Kiss. “Please.” Kiss. “Can we try again?”

You barely whimper out a “Yes, please.” before he’s kissing you desperately again.

“I’m gonna make sure to never give you a reason to leave ever again.”

ooo a part 2 of sorts (?) to this empty kiss with aus blurb

part 3 - hesitant and can’t let you go yet kiss

Auston feels like he’s going to throw up. It’s been 7 months since you left him, since he fucked up. And you were here now, at a Starbucks next to his hotel in Washington DC, and feels like he’s going to throw up.

“Y-Y/N?”

You turn around at the voice, eyes widening when you see who it is. “Auston,” your voice comes out soft, emotional, and he wants to cry. You don’t look, nor sound, cold and monotone like you did that night. You sound, almost back to normal, like his girl.

“Hi - I - what are you - shit, I -”

“Hey,” you murmur, stepping closer to him, setting your drink down on the table that your things had been set on. “I didn’t realize you were playing in DC this weekend.”

Auston ignores the hurt that flashes through him at the implication, that even with blocking him on social media, and blocking his number after he tried to contact you for weeks after that night, you’d completely cut him out of your life, and everything to do with him. He’d heard from his teammates and his friends that you’d removed them all as followers on Instagram, un-added them as friends on Snapchat, and deleted all their numbers. But he realized now that you got rid of everything about him, including ignoring an entire professional sports league.

“I didn’t know that you’re, that you’re here now.” Auston sounds hurt, which almost makes you want to laugh because how dare he be hurt when he fucked everything up.

“Uh, yeah,” you reign in your emotions, not quite going cold, but not allowing your feelings to fuck with your decisions. “I’ve been here for a few months, 6 or 7 now. I’ve been taking some classes at a community college and I got a job and an apartment here after… after everything.”

“Yeah, listen, Y/N I-”

“I should go, Auston,” you say abruptly, grabbing your drink from the table and slinging your backpack over your shoulder. “I have to meet up with some people to study and… yeah I should go.”

You push past him and out the door before he can protest.

“Y/N, wait! Pleas! Just, please wait,” You keep walking, you don’t want this. You don’t want to hear whatever bullshit excuses and sweet nothings he’ll come up with this time. “Wait.” A hand wraps around your wrist, jerking you backwards into Auston’s embrace. He cups your cheek and leans down to kiss you.

You feel like you can’t breathe. You hate him. You hate him. But to kiss him again feels so good, and you can’t help but kiss him back with just as much vigor. His tongue swipes against your lips, and you suck softly on it in your mouth. Auston moans, pulling back for a moment just to connect your lips again. He disconnects and reconnects your lips another few times before pulling back once more to rest his forehead against yours.

A tear slips down his face when he whispers, “I swear I can fix this. Come home to me.”