𝐱𝐢. it wasnt even real

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eleven | it wasn't even real


































ALI LIKED ALCOHOL, IT WAS NO SECRET. When she drank, she never did so in moderation but she also wasn't downing a carton of -196's every single day. She saved it for the weekends, usually. Except today and the last day. . . and maybe the one before that—she's not quite sure.

She hadn't charged her phone in three days—the disconnect was a little comforting. She hadn't moved off her couch since Tuesday (except to grab a different spirit out of the cupboard or to pee). She'd binged about eight seasons of Keeping Up With The Kardashians—her last meal was nothing but a distant memory.

As she tried to put on the next episode, the date in the bottom of the screen caught her eye: Friday. Fuck.

One of Jordan's only demands was that she go to every home game. She dragged herself out of her couch cocoon and towards her bedroom—almost stepping on her dead phone as he entered. Clumsily, she bent over and picked it up. Once that was on the charge she walked into her ensuite. She looked at her shower before shaking her head; no time. The blonde got to work on covering her eyes bags with full coverage concealer and brushing out her knots. She'd sprayed almost an entire bottle of Chanel No.5.

She scooped her phone up to order the Uber and saw the weeks worth of messages. Two from her mother, seventeen from the group chat and twenty-two from Jordan. Instead of feeling for ghosting him, she ordered her Uber—she'd make it up to him just by showing up.

The drive was a blur of almost falling asleep and vomiting out the window. Safe to say she wasn't getting five stars.

She stumbled through the back rooms of Suncorp Stadium, trying to remember where the sheds were. An intern graciously lead her in the opposite direction to the one she'd been heading. She could hear plenty of yelling and it made her head hurt but she persevered, pushing the door open.

A few people looked at her for a second before going back to what they were doing. She watched as the long-haired one elbowed Jordan and pointed. Relief and confusion washed over his face as he sped over to her. His fingers caught her wrist, not saying much as he lead her into the hallway—not wanting his teammates to listen-in.

"Where have you been?" He demanded.

Ali put a hand on her hip and frowned up at him. "At home, duh," she slurred.

His eyes were filled with emotions she couldn't quite read. "I've been calling and texting you all week, Ali. I thought— I thought something might've happened to you—"

"I'm fine," she shrugged, losing her balance. Jordan put his hands on her shoulders and stabilised her.

"Are you drunk?"

"Jordy, it's a Friday night," she responded, prying his hands away. "The real question is why aren't you drunk yet?"

💌
































liked by reecewalsh, billywalters & 23,576 others!

JORDANRIKI: Pumped

view 231 comments

REECEWALSH: Father

JESSIEARTHURS: I carried
USER1: trash

PPATTYYCARRIGAN: Uppa

USER2: so much hotter without that slut on your arm
USER4: ugh so true

USER3: Up the brahs! 🐴

































JORDAN DEFINITELY USED REECE BETTING HIM $50 TO SEE WHO COULD FINISH AN ENTIRE 12 PACK THE FASTEST AS AN EXCUSE TO STALL FINDING ALI. He honestly didn't know what to make of her right now. Shock had come over him when she appeared—he'd expected her to be dead somewhere. By the time the beers had been drunk (Jordan won, obviously) he couldn't quite feel his face and he felt quite lighter.

He stumbled out of the shed to where he usually met Ali after games—she hated sitting in the changing rooms, it made her uncomfortable apparently. On the lonely bench in a hallway she sat, as beautiful as ever. He stood still in the distance for a second, admiring her as she tapped away at her phone with laser focus. He grinned a bit as she'd type and then spammed the backspace button over and over.

"Ready to go?" He asked, his slurred voice echoing.

She looked up and nodded, shoving her phone in her pocket. "About time."

He watched her walk towards him, her hips swaying from side to side—it was captivating. Shock washed over him when she didn't stop walking when she was in front of him but instead threw her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down towards her. He hugged her back tightly. Ali usually hated hugging.

"You're all wet," she giggled into his neck.

Jordan laughed. "Sorry, was just in the showers."

Ali almost moaned at the idea of a shower. "Without me?"

Jordan's brain went blank. Did he imagine her saying that? He didn't think he was that wasted. . . then again, he had tried to push a pull door for five minutes before finding her. "You can never have too many showers," he muttered into her hair.

"Are we going to the pub?"

"Only if you want to."

"It's right there, may as well," she slurred, pulling away from him and pulling his hand towards the exit.

Jordan felt a little pang in his chest. Why couldn't they always be like this? They worked so well as a couple. . . why couldn't she see that?

The pub was basically at capacity but that honestly didn't affect them one bit. She'd dragged him into a corner after they'd done shots and had been on top of him ever since. Her thighs were on either side of his and her back arched as his hands roamed her backside. They'd been joined at the lips for at least ten songs. Her hands were running wild in his hair (which was his favourite sensation). He wished they weren't in public because there were so many more things he'd wanted to be doing to her.

As if reading his mind, she broke away and whispered into his ear, "we should get out of her." Her lips brushed against his earrings and one of her hands glided down his chest and towards his pants.

Before she could reach the station, he lifted her up and placed her in front of him. She giggled and let him lead her to the street. She stood in front of him as he held her, looking down at her phone while she ordered the Uber. "We're going to mine for once."

The drive was a blur. He thinks her hands might've ended up in his pants or maybe his went up her skirt (or both?). She definitely didn't have her seatbelt on and he had the time of his life as Pitbull blared in the background.

Jordan doesn't remember how they got upstairs. He only remembers her being under him on her queen sized bed—blankets pushed aside. Both their shirts had been tossed as far as he could throw them. Her fingers ran up and down all the crevices of his pecs—so gentle and slow. He could watch her from this angle forever.

"Can you help me take this off?" She sat up a little as she tried to undo her bra. Jordan reached behind her and removed the clasp—his eyed glued to her chest as they spilt out of the red lace.

"Ali, you're so beautiful," he muttered, placing a gentle kiss on her neck as he laid her back down. She didn't reply—just moaned. His kisses got more passionate and he wanted to leave a mark—of his territory, if you will. Her fingers were back in his hair as his travelled towards her skirt and pulled downwards. It was a bit difficult to manoeuvre them off with how close their bodies were.

Eventually he got them off just as she dug her nails into his back causing him to let out a deep moan. "God, Myl. . . Jordan. . ."

Jordan froze. He felt as though she'd dunked his head in the Arctic ocean. Surely she hadn't just—

"Don't stop, Jordy," she whined and he decided it must've just been his imagination. His mouth went back to work and his hands began pawing at her breasts—switching between pinching and squeezing and rubbing depending on reactions. He tried rolling his thumb around the direct centre of her nipple and her entire grip on him tightened.

Her hands journeyed south and began rubbing his tight pants. He stopped long enough to let her find his fly and fumble with the button until he just did it himself—his shorts flying across her room and knocking over a deodorant can.

His mouth began travelling down her body. Shoulders, breasts, stomach, hips, thighs and then the final stop. Her back arched so far back, he thought she might snap in half. She always tasted amazing—like nectar formed by the gods. Her fingers twisted through his hair and every time he switched up his technique she pulled. Her thighs were locked around his head—locking him in a prison he'd gladly do a life sentence in.

One of his free hands squeezed her boob and she moaned again as he simultaneously feasted. If she wasn't careful with those noises, he might finish before his boxers came off.

Her legs loosened around his head and he felt her grab the sides of his face. He let her pull him up towards her and she kissed him. "Please," she begged, reaching for his waistband.

He wasted no time getting them off, his cock springing out and ready for her. Not detaching his lips from hers, he reached for the condom on the bedside table. His hands gripped her wrists and he pinned them above her head as he prepared to enter.

But before he could, he felt her start to shake and then he realised she'd started crying. Panicking, he let her go and practically jumped off of her. As he sat up, she lay there, sobbing. "Ali—?" He didn't know what to do.

"Go," she sobbed, rolling away from him and curling into the fetal position.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you or something—?" He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder before deciding against it.

"Just go, okay," she said more harshly. "I don't want you here."

The affects of the alcohol seemed to evaporate from his system. "Ali, please, just talk to me, I don't know what I've—"

"You're not my boyfriend, okay?" She snapped, curling into herself more. "This was another drunk mistake."

"Ali—"

"I said go," she cried, throwing his underwear at him.

"I'm sorry," he said again, finally standing up. She didn't respond and he gathered his belongings as fast as he could. His heart was racing as he opened her front door.

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JORDAN RIKI • 3:55AM
Ali, I'm sorry for whatever I did
Please call me when you wake up
so I know you're okay
seen • 10:32AM

JORDAN RIKI • 5:34PM
Ali, please can you talk to me

ALIANNA GREER • 6:47PM
i don't think this is working out.

JORDAN RIKI • 6:47PM
Please don't do this over text
I need to see you

ALIANNA GREER • 6:52PM
i need space.

JORDAN RIKI • 6:53PM
Please tell me what I've done
wrong

ALIANNA GREER • 7:00PM
i don't have feelings for you like
i know you do for me.
seen • 7:01PM


















































☀️KK SPEAKS!
mwahahagahaagahaha

blame my bus being 15 minutes late for this one

     also rare jordan pov

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