#I was told they’d be leaving at 6:15 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

no-144444 · 4 months ago

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my girl- (o.piastri no.81)

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summary: fans made an edit of oscar and you being in love since your prema days.

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x fem! driver! reader (no.28)

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Oscar Piastri being in love with Y/n Y/l/n for 15 minutes straight, and vice versa (F2 -> F1)

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Clip 1: Prema video

Bahrain Airport, F2 season beginning, March.

“And here we have the 3 year reigning champion of the Indycar Junior series, making her F2 pivot, Y/n Y/l/n!” Rob cheered as he woke you from your nap on the plane.

“Shut up,” you groaned, pushing the camera away with a chuckle. “I'm tired, leave me be.”

“The plane is landing, idiot!”

“Hush!” you laughed. “That means ages until we get off, get your camera away Rob!”

Rob and you had gotten the same flight from London, and you’d become fast friends. He was eccentric and overtop, but a good laugh. You were sure you looked crazy. 6 hour flights do that to a person. You and Rob chatted to the camera about the weekend, and you introduced yourself to the Prema fans. Not many people gave a shit about Indycar, and even less cared about Indycar junior.

As you disembarked the plane and got through security, people stopped you and Rob for photos and whatnot, then you finally got out of the airport. Angelina was standing there with a camera and a big ‘welcome’ sign, and another two very tired teenage boys beside her.

“Y/n!” she cheered, pulling you both into a hug. “Rob!”

Little did you know, Rob’s camera was pointed at Oscar, who turned to Fred with a shocked expression and whispered: “She’s gorgeous.”

Beside him, Fred chuckled. “Go for her.”

“No way I have any chance with her, I-”

“I can hear you, y’know?” you cut in, coming over to introduce yourself.

He went redder than a tomato, and you all just laughed.

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Clip 2: Sky Sports channel

Bahrain International Circuit, 27th of March

“And it’s No. 28 who sees the chequered flag first, the rookie, and the only girl on the grid, Y/n Y/l/n! Pole position in her first race!”

“That’s P1 Y/n, congratulations,” your race engineer, Pedro, beamed as you crossed the finish line.

“Motherfuck Guanyu is fast mate, we need to watch out for him- oh, and the other Alpine boy that was trying to flirt with me, what’s his name?” you answered. The Prema garage was full of laughter as you outed Oscar.

“Oscar Piastri? No.2,” Pedro chuckled. “He failed to flirt with you?”

“Well, bless him, he tried to,” you chuckled as you parked the car. “He’s cute though.”

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“That’s P6 Oscar, and just to let you know, Y/n Y/l/n has outed you on the radio and on live television saying that you tried and failed to flirt with her,” his race engineer said.

Oscar laughed, finding the situation funny. “My mum’s going to tweet about that.”

“She also called you ‘cute’, if that helps with any bruised ego?”

Oscar’s face lit up under his helmet. “It definitely does,” he chuckled. “Thanks mate.”

“I’d wingman you any time,” he chuckled.

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Clip 3: Prema video

Prema Headquarters, Grisignano di Zocco, Italy, April.

“Hello everyone,” Robert smiled at the camera. “Today we will be going for a drive, I’d better call Oscar in.”

Oscar sat in the passenger seat and did his belt as they caught up and told the viewers what they’d be watching.

“So, today, you will be joining us for a drive around the Italian countryside,” Rob smiled. “And we will be answering your questions.”

“Let the questions begin,” Oscar added. He pulled one out of the bowl and read it aloud. “Who’s your favourite Prema team member?”

Rob smiled. “That’s hard, I love the whole Prema team so much, but… yeah, that’s hard. Maybe my race engineer, Fred? I get along quite well with him,” Rob giggled as Oscar nodded.

“What?” Oscar laughed.

“I know your favourite,” Rob smirked.

Oscar looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Who?”

“La tua ragazza,” Rob chuckled as Oscar rolled his eyes. “What? It is true! You love her!” (La tua ragazza = your girl in Italian)

“I’ve met her once, mate!” Oscar laughed.

“So you don’t like her? I can ask her out?” Rob deadpanned.

“Well, no, you can't-” Oscar was cut off by Rob’s laughter and he decided to stop trying to fight him about it. Everyone on the team knew that Oscar Piastri was infatuated with you.

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Clip 4: Georgie O’Hara’s deleted youtube video.

Haileybury and Imperial Service College, England.

“Ok, that’s an awful idea!” Oscar yelled over his friends. “They already know you’re the ones doing it!”

“It’s fine! It’ll be fine!” Elijah, a good friend of his, smiled. They wanted to set off the fire alarms again, for the third time that week. Deodorant and stupid teenage boys did not mix, especially when they refused to put it on themselves and waste it on fire drills instead.

Georgie turned to his phone, addressing the viewers "Oscar's a goody-two-shoes, if you couldn't tell."

Suddenly his phone rang from an unknown number, and before he could leave it ring, Anthony (another friend of his) answered. “Oscar Piastri, incoming F2 champion’s phone, how may I help you?”

Oscar laughed, but suddenly stopped when he heard you.

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” you chuckled at his friend. “Anyways, can you just ask him to ask Elijah not to do the fire alarm thing between 11pm and 2am? The girls in my room and I are sneaking downstairs to watch a film and we don’t really want to get caught.”

Oscar covered his face and groaned, then took the phone off Georgie. “Hey-hi, Y/n. Yes, of course, we won’t do the fire alarm thing, ever again. Sorry.”

He turned his back as his friends made kissing noises and certain gestures at him.

“All good, thanks Osc,” you smiled. “You and your friends are welcome to join us if you want.”

Oscar could’ve sworn his heart stopped beating. “I’ll ask them,” he smiled. He turned to his friends. “Y/n’s inviting us all to a movie, we’re sneaking out tonight,” he informed them.

“I don’t want to-” Anthony started, but Georgie silenced him with a kick to the shin.

“Mate, this is Oscar’s one fucking chance with his girl, shut up,” He scoffed.

“Is that a yes?” You asked over the phone.

“Yes!” they all answered.

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As the night went on, you found yourself getting more and more tired. Oscar was beside you and you could tell how he was trying to play it cool, but failing miserably. You could practically see the way his heart leapt out of his chest when you held his hand. As ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ ended, you squeezed his hand before getting up and letting go.

“Alright, I’ll clean up, everyone else go back upstairs before you get caught,” you whispered. The ‘movie room’ as the students called it (it was technically the staff room but no one really cared) was a mess. Blankets, cups, wrappers and pillows were everywhere. The group slowly shuffled out as you were left with only Oscar. Georgie had forgotten about his camera and it was still recording where he’d put it down to get some shots of everyone watching the film.

“I can help,” Oscar whispered.

You shook your head. “Seriously, you go ahead. They already hate me at this school anyways,” you chuckled.

“Please let me help?” he asked again. You couldn’t exactly say ‘no’ to his puppy dog eyes, could you?

“Fine,” you smiled.

You two chatted quietly as you cleaned up the room, and finally met at the door to leave.

“I really enjoyed tonight-” You started, but you were cut off by Oscar kissing you. His arms wrapped around your waist and your arms wrapped around his neck once the initial shock wore off. You both pulled away after a few seconds. You stared up at him as his usually-blank face turned to one of panic.

“Sorry if that was forward, or-or weird- or-” He started, but now it was your turn to cut him off with a kiss.

He pulled back smiling, and he didn’t move his hands, or try to move away from you. There was a moment of silence. “Can I take you on a date?”

You chuckled. “Yes.”

Oscar was elated.

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Clip 5: Sky sports channel and Prema footage

Circuit de Monaco, Monaco, Monaco, May 22nd.

You were excited as you stepped onto the podium, victorious. It had been a difficult few laps at the end, Guanyu overtaking, then you overtaking, and over and over, but you got the chequered flag first. You were breaking records, breaking barriers as a woman in motorsports. You’d won Monaco, your first time racing there. In the Sprint, and the feature race. You were on top of the world. As you raised your trophy, the crowd cheered and Oscar was cheering the loudest.

You looked to your left, him standing on the podium for the first time this season, and you smiled.

“Feels good, huh?” you smirked.

“Feels great, but I’ll be coming for your step next,” he smirked.

“You wish Piastri,” you scoffed, then uncorked your champagne bottle and sprayed it on him and Zhou.

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Clip 6: Sky Sports channel, Prema footage

Autodromo Nazionale di Monza, Monza, 17th of July, Sprint Race.

“And it’s Y/n Y/l/n into the wall in a bad collision with Liam Lawson, only 2 laps till the end!”

Everything was in slow motion, one second you were in control, the next you were flipping into the wall.

“Red flag, red flag Oscar, huge crash in sector 3, come in, come in,” his race engineer said.

“Who was it?” He asked, slowing his pace.

“Y/l/n and Lawson, straight into the wall.”

“Is she ok? Is she out of the car?” he asked calmly.

“Not yet,” he answered grimly. The Prema garage was eerily silent as they watched the stewards struggle to get you out of the car.

As he came up on sector 3, he saw you. The car was upside down leaning against the barrier, they were putting out the fire. Shit. Shit. Shit.

You and Oscar had been dating for a few months now, and he really liked you. He passed by in horror as he saw that you weren’t out of the car yet. He was getting more and more nervous as the moments went on. He caught sight of Liam. He was out of the car. He beckoned Oscar over and he obliged, letting him hitch a ride back to the pitlane with him as he drove slowly. As they got back to the pitlane, they both jumped out as the race was finally deemed as cancelled, and the boys walked off, waiting for news.

“What happened?” he asked.

“It was a total mistake, my car had mad fucking oversteer and I just hit the throttle too hard, and then she was in the wall,” he answered. “She’s not even out yet.”

“She’ll be ok,” Oscar said, trying to convince himself as well as Liam. “She’s strong.”

Liam nodded, and went off to the RedBull garage with his head held low. Oscar walked into the Prema garage and his mom immediately pulled him in for a hug. Beside her was your parents, looking terrified.

“You’re ok, thank god,” she whispered. She didn’t care about the multiple cameras pointing at them, her son was alright.

“Is there any news yet?”

“They’ve pulled her out of the car,” your dad answered, eyes glued to the screen.

“Is she responsive?” Nicole asked.

“Yes!” You race engineer answered, happy that you were alive. There was a collective sigh of relief throughout the garage. “Complaining about lower back and leg pain, as well as a definite broken arm. She won’t be racing for a while,” he added, his tone becoming more and more sombre. Oscar watched as your mother broke down in your father’s arms, and he felt like throwing up. You wouldn’t be racing, you wouldn’t get to do the thing you loved.

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Clip 6: Prema video

ASST Brianza - Vimercate Hospital, 18th of July.

You woke up in blinding pain a few hours earlier. Everyone had worked so hard to make everything ok, to make you comfortable, but all night all you did was sob. The pain was unbearable in the car, you thought you were going to die, you thought you weren’t getting out of the car. 5 fractured vertebrae, 3 broken ribs, a fractured hip bone, and a broken arm apparently wasn’t a joke. No racing for the rest of the year. Your life was over.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you sat up and pain shot up your back.

“Hey,” Oscar’s soft voice brought you out of your upset, and back into the room. He took your hand. You felt bad, he’d been there the entire time, and honestly, he should probably be at the track already, ahead of today’s race. You’d tried to shoo him but he wasn’t having it, much more in favour of being with you and cluing you in on how your parents reacted to him being your boyfriend. Awkward. “Take your time.”

You nodded, grateful that he was there, then turned your attention to the camera Angelina had brought with her and set up to take a ‘statement’ video. “Hi Prema fans, and my fans. Yesterday was pretty rough, and with a heavy heart I have to tell you that I won’t be able to continue this season in F2. My back was badly damaged yesterday in my collision with Liam, which was a complete accident and not anyone's fault, and I definitely don’t blame Liam. I love racing, and I’ll still be at the majority of the races to support my teammates, and my boyfriend. This is just a very unfortunate event that pulls me out of the game for a while, but I’ll be back. I hope you miss me on track, and just know that I’m alright. Thank you for the support, bye for now, Prema family.”

Oscar wrapped his arms around you and smiled. “I’m the boyfriend,” he added, making you laugh.

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Clip 7: Prema footage

Jeddah Corniche Circuit, Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, 4th of December

“And Oscar Piastri sees the chequered flag first! Winning a sprint race and the feature race this weekend!”

You jumped up and down beside Chris, his father, as he came into the pitlane. He was the lead of the championship. He was going to win F2. No doubt about it.

The past 5 months had been difficult. You’d been back at school for a while, only now cleared to travel again, but you were happy to be back at the tracks. It felt good to watch Oscar win in person.

Chris wrapped his arms around you as you both celebrated. Oscar’s radio came on.

“God guys, good drive. Looks like Y/n is my lucky charm,” he laughed over the radio. The last races hadn’t gone so well for him, but he was straight back to winning with you here.

You were smiling the whole way to the barricade, but that ended when about 50 people were against your back, pushing violently. Chris and Mark were trying desperately to get them to back off, but they couldn’t stop them. You promised them you’d be ok, but the pain was getting unbearable, and Oscar hadn’t come over yet.

“Guys, move back!” He shouted as he ran over, just finished taking off his helmet. “Make some space!” The team obliged, but he still decided to be dramatic and lift you over the barrier. “You alright?” he asked, but you just wrapped your arms around him.

“You’re incredible Osc,” you smiled. “I love you so much.”

And there it was, out in the open for the first time. Too bad you forgot you both had microphones on.

He smiled wider than you ever thought possible for his face. “I love you too. So much baby,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You should be up here with me,” he added and you nodded, it still being a sore subject. “And you will be. Next year.”

You nodded, grateful for the hope and support he offered you. “Go! Go to your team!” you laughed, pushing him on. Before he let you out of his grasp, he grabbed your waist and stole a sweet, quick kiss.

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Clip 8: Prema footage

Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi, 12th of December

He’d done it. He was the F2 champion. Sadly next year he would only get to be the Alpine F1 reserve driver, which meant no consistent racing, but that was still incredible.

You waited by the barricade as he came in, and he went straight over to you. He pulled his helmet off, then his bandana, and pulled you in for a kiss. The rest of the team ‘ohh’ed and ‘aww’ed but neither of you cared at all. He’d won.

“Congratulations F2 winner,” you smirked, pulling away.

“Thanks baby,” he smiled.

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Post-race interview

“So, how does this feel, Oscar?” she asked.

“It feels amazing, y’know, we’ve all worked so hard at this for the whole year and it’s just really special to have everyone here, especially my girlfriend Y/n. I’m missing her on track, so it’s good to still at least have her in the paddock,” he smiled, and the camera cut to you, beaming up at him.

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Clip 9: Prema footage and Sky Sports channel

Bahrain International Circuit, Sakhir, 19th of March, Sprint 1.

“We’re in the Prema garage,” Oscar explained to the camera in front of him. He was in full Alpine gear, being a reserve driver meant being a marketing machine, but this wasn’t for Alpine, this was for you. “And my girlfriend is about to go and do her first race back since the accident last season. Let’s go interview her about it!” He walked through the garage, searching for you, and finally found you. “Y/n! Any time for an interview?”

You turned to him and smiled. “I always have time for you,” you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him close. His grip on you was tight but you didn’t mind. You pulled away and turned to the camera.

“So, how does it feel to be back?” He asked.

“Amazing. I thought my life was over when I was told I wasn’t allowed to race for half a year.”

“And who helped nurse you back to health?” He smirked, batting his eyelashes at you.

“Your mom mostly,” you chuckled. You’d spent the entire off-season in Australia with Oscar and his family, and Nicole had been so considerate and careful about your healing injuries.

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Yeah… that’s probably true,” he chuckled. “How do you feel being on Pole?”

“It feels good. We just have to stay quick this season. I didn’t rush my healing just to lose,” you smiled then pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ve to get in the car now, love you,” you smiled. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed his lips to yours with a ‘good luck’, then let you go.

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“And can she do it? Yes she can! Y/n Y/l/n is coming in with a bang! A Sprint Pole and a Sprint win! That is a statement, ‘I never left’!”

“That’s P1 Y/n, well done!” Pedro called over the radio as the Prema garage went crazy.

“Thanks for everything guys, great car, great drive-”

“Great driver,” he added.

You pulled into the pitlane and got out of the car, celebrating as they got the photo of you on the car. You ran over to Oscar at the barricade as you pulled off your helmet and balaclava.

“That’s my girl!” he cheered as you pulled him in for a hug. “See? Nothing's changed.”

You pressed your lips to his. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he smiled and pressed his lips to your cheek. “I’m loving this WAG lifestyle,” he chuckled.

You laughed. “It suits you.”

He chuckled. “Alright, you’re being called for the interview. Love you,” he smiled as you walked off, giving your hand a squeeze. You blew him a kiss back.

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Clip 10: Prema video

Prema Headquarters, Grisignano di Zocco, Italy.

You were laughing with Logan, doing a ‘Who knows who best’ challenge and both of you were failing miserably.

You put the headphones on and the music started, making it impossible to hear him. You watched as the room erupted in laughter, then Logan nudged you to take the headphones off.

“What is the most annoying thing about you?” He asked, holding back giggles.

“I know what you’d say,” you chuckled. “Me and Oscar.”

The room erupted in laughter as he nodded. “Exactly!”

“You’re just jealous,” you chuckled.

“Why? ‘Cause I don’t have a girlfriend?”

“No, because I have Oscar and you don’t,” you shot back, and everyone started laughing again.

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Clip 11: Sky Sports Channel

Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi, 20th of November

“And after a season of domination from the woman in red, Y/n Y/l/n sees the chequered flag first with a staggering 425 points! This F2 season will go down in history!”

You’d done it. You’d done it. You were an F2 champion, and next season you’d be in an F1 car fulltime, racing alongside Oscar, Logan, and Nick. You’d made it.

You jumped out of the car, amazed at your season. It’d been win after win, fastest lap after fastest lap, pole position after pole position. You’d worked so hard.

“You did it baby!” Oscar shouted as you ran over. You jumped into his arms, and let him hold you up. He looked at you like you held the sky up, like you were the greatest thing on the planet. “You’re incredible.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” you smiled. “ I love you so much.”

“I love you so much more,” he pressed kisses to any inch of skin he could, more than proud to be yours.

You chuckled as he tickled you with his kisses, before you realised that you needed to go fulfil your duties. He put you down, but before you could leave, he grabbed your waist again. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Osc.”

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Clip 12: Sky Sports channel, McLaren footage, and RedBull footage

Bahrain International Circuit, Sakhir, 2023.

“A disappointing result for Oscar Piastri, but an incredible run for Y/n Y/l/n, P1 in her first race! I’m sure he’ll be pleased with that for his long-time girlfriend!”

Oscar was pissed off, but his mood was lifted by your result. You were incredible. He cheered in his own garage, happy for your win. You’d won your first race. Who else did that? The first woman to ever do so.

He was in awe of you.

He exited his garage, ready to see you after your win. He saw you getting out of the car and running straight into the arms of your team and he smiled. He finally caught your eye after some time, and you ran over, wrapping your arms around him.

“I’m so sorry,” were the first words out of your mouth. “If I could trade our cars, I would Osc, I really would,” you sighed.

“Don’t even joke about that. Don’t make your first win about me. This is about you, my brilliant, incredible, winner,” he pressed his lips to yours in a short, victory kiss. “I love you, yeah?” “I love you too,” you smiled.

“You were amazing out there,” he smiled.

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Clip 13: McLaren video

Jeddah Corniche Circuit, Jeddah, Saudi Arabia

“Who is your teammate's favourite person?” Lando asked, then looked at the camera and rolled his eyes. “Oscar’s is Y/n because he’s a traitor.”

Oscar burst into laughter and looked at Lando. “That’s not fair! We started dating as teammates!”

“Oh sure Osc!” Lando sighed, playing up the drama. “That’s what they all say.”

“But it’s the truth!”

“Anyways, moving on from Oscar and his traitor girlfriend, who’s my favourite person Oscar?”

“Max Fewtrell?”

Lando thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Him or my parents or siblings.”

Oscar took another question out of the bowl and chuckled. “What’s the other person’s red flag?”

Little did he know, you’d come in to visit him and were actively sneaking up behind him.

“Yours is your refusal to ever use a hairbrush,” you answered for Lando, and Oscar jumped, making everyone laugh, especially Lando, who fell off his chair. You chuckled and wrapped your arms around Oscar's neck from behind, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Came to say hi,” you smiled, kissing his cheek.

“Came to air out my business online?” He questioned, laughing. He took your hands and led you around his chair, sitting you on his lap. “When did you get in?” he asked, resting his head on your shoulder as Lando tried to compose himself.

“Just now, came straight from the airport,” you nodded, leaning back against him.

“Bad flight?”

“Nah, I was on Max’s jet. He’s offered me to ask you two if you want to go back to Monaco after this weekend with him. I am,” you answered. He nodded, gently playing with your hands as he listened to you.

“Sounds good to me,” he smiled. “Tell him ‘thanks’, yeah?”

You nodded. “‘Course,” you got up to leave but he pulled you down by the arm and pressed your lips together quickly, then let you go. “Love you,” you called after yourself.

“Love you too,” he called back, ready to get back to the interview.

“Can we keep that in?” Ellie, their marketing manager asked.

He shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

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Clip 14: Hattie Piastri’s tiktok vlog

Piastri residence, Melbourne, 2023

“Y/n’s over there with Oscar, and Addie is with May and mum and dad are with Tim over there,” she explained to the camera pointing everything out. In the video you and Oscar were laying on the grass in the setting sun, utterly exhausted from your weekend of racing where you’d gotten p2 and Oscar had gotten p8. His arms were wrapped around you as you lay on top of him, smiling.

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Clip 15: Sky Sports channel, RedBull footage and Nicole Piastri’s instagram

Circuit Zandvoort, Zandvoort, Holland

“And can she do it? Yes she can! Y/n Y/l/n beats teammate Max Verstappen to first place, and she sees the chequered flag first! What an incredible season this has been for the rookie!”

As you crossed the finish line, you almost felt sick. You’d beaten Max, giving you a lead in the Driver’s Championship. He’d been 10 points ahead. Now, you were 15 points ahead of him.

“That’s P1, P1 Y/n congratulations,” Pedro smiled.

“Thanks Pedro, and thanks everyone, really well done. Car is perfect, thank you all so much!”

“And Oscar’s P9, if you're wondering.”

“When I get my fucking hands on Zak Brown I will rip his fake fucking toupée off for giving him such a shit car,” You groaned. “Great drive guys, thanks.”

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You walked into the paddock as they all cheered both you and Max on. Max had gotten P2, unhappy with not winning, but not mad that you’d won. He saw what you were doing for motorsports all around the world, how much pressure you were under as the first female driver in a long time, and how hard you were working. He wasn’t going to make your life harder by being an asshole off the track too. He gave you a celebratory hug and moved onto his driver’s room, as you stayed out with the engineers, chatting and celebrating with them.

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Nicole Piatri’s instagram live

“Hi everyone, Osc and I are right now, trying to sneak into the RedBull garage to see Y/n,” Nicole explained and behind her, Oscar smiled and put both thumbs up.

“I’m going to be told off for this by Zak, so, sorry Zak. I want to see my girlfriend, my bad,” he chuckled, his apology only half-assed.

Nicole and him continued faffing around the paddock for a while, until Nicole caught your eye through the window. You ran over to the door beside them and let them in, pulling Nicole in for a huge hug as Oscar waited behind her with a wide smile.

He spoke to the live. “Apparently my girlfriend likes my mum better than me-"

You cut him off with a kiss as you laughed at his antics. “Shut the fuck up,” you chuckled. “You’re such a baby.”

“I missed seeing you in the conference,” he shrugged, holding you close as his mum took the phone and documented this moment between the two of you. “I love you,” he smiled.

“I love you too,” you chuckled, kissing his cheek. “P9? Not bad.”

He rolled his eyes and smiled. “P1? Not bad,” he lifted you into his arms making you squeal.

“Osc! Put me down!” You squealed.

“Let me win next time,” he chuckled. “Then I’ll put you down.”

“What do you want me to do? Switch our cars?”

“Ideally,” he chuckled, kissing your cheek and putting you down. “But I guess I’ll settle for watching you be gorgeous on the podium every week.”

“The fans are loving this!” Christian joked as he watched over Nicole’s shoulder, seeing how the chat was going crazy.

You both turned to Nicole with confused faces.

“You’re still filming mum?!”

This live has now been ended by the host.

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Clip 16: Sky sports channel

Lusail International Circuit, Lusail, Qatar

“Oscar Piastri has done the job brilliantly, the Australian driver will see the chequered flag first! Oscar Piastri wins the sprint to take McLaren to the top step once again!”

“That’s P2 Y/n, Oscar P1,” Pedro announced.

“WOOOOO!” You screamed, elated for him. “Fucking legend!”

“I said P2 for you,” he reminded.

“Shut up and be happy for him, just once,” you chuckled, pulling into the pit lane to park. You watched as Oscar got out of the car as you got out of your own car. Immediately, he ran over to you, wrapping you up in his arms as you celebrated together.

“You did it!” You shouted, jumped around in each other's arms. “You’re fucking incredible.”

“You put up a good fucking fight,” he chuckled, smiling like a kid.

“You’re going to look so sexy at the top of the podium,” you smirked and he blushed hard.

“I wish you wouldn’t say stuff like that in public,” he chuckled, then hid his face in your neck as you laughed.

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Post-sprint conference

“So, this is a question for Y/n and Oscar,” an interviewer started. Both of you looked up, exhausted from the late night race. “Does your relationship prohibit you from racing to your full potential? I believe Y/n, you could’ve caught up. Did you give him this win?”

You scoffed, appalled that anyone would have the audacity to ask such a thing. “For fuck’s sake,” you sighed. “No. I couldn’t have. You know how you know that? Because I would’ve if I could’ve. I love Oscar, and I’ve loved him since I was about 14 years old, but that doesn’t mean that I let him win. He’s a ridiculously talented driver, and a fucking genius with strategy. His car is great too. But out there today? That was pure talent. I can love him, and wholeheartedly race him too,” you answered, getting annoyed at the comments like these you two constantly got. “And another thing, I’m getting really fucking sick of the questions about our relationship. Do you really think we’d be together if we couldn’t race each other and not come back to each other and be proud of each other? Seriously? Where is your critical thinking?”

The room was full of whispered conversation as you dropped the last diss, and beside you Oscar was looking at you with huge heart eyes. Anyone could see it from a mile away, he loved you. He chuckled, wanting to add his two cents as well. “Yeah, exactly. The only thing she lets me win in is chess, right?” He looked at you with a smirk and you rolled your eyes.

“You won once, asshole,” you chuckled, pushing his hand off your thigh.

“Then we stopped playing,” he shrugged, a cocky smirk very-present on his face.

“We ran out of time,” you shrugged, feigning innocence.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Sure.”

The tension in the room had been dissolved in the comedic moment, and you were thankful for Oscar’s calm exterior. You moved closer to him on the couch, and he wrapped an arm around you, smiling wide as you pressed a kiss to his hand, the one closest to your face.

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Clip 17: Drive to Survive

Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi

“How are you feeling?” Oscar asked, sitting in your driver’s room with you before the race. He knew how worried you were, how much you wanted this. You had to win. You and Max were neck and neck. You just had to get more points than him, starting from P2.

You sighed, standing between his legs and messing with his hair, favouring trying not to think about it rather than talking about it. He grabbed ahold of your waist and pressed his face into your torso, pressing kisses to wherever he could reach, trying to make you laugh.

You chuckled and pushed him away, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m alright, I promise. Just stressed.”

“You won’t be stressed in a week,” he smiled. “We’ll be in Melbourne.”

You smiled, and kissed him again. “We will. Waves and relaxing. Nothing else.”

“Well, and Logan,” he chuckled. “So… ‘Merica and all that,” he smiled as you laughed at his bad joke. He got you down to his lap and he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You’ve got this, don’t worry.”

“Wow, anxiety cured,” you replied sarcastically, making him laugh.

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Clip 18: Sky Sports Channel

Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi

“And it is an incredible season for the first female in modern F1, Y/n Y/l/n sees the chequered flag first, with a Driver’s Championship 1-2 with her teammate Max Verstappen! This makes her the first female ever to win the F1 Driver’s Championship title! What an inspiration!”

You’d done it. You won your rookie season. You were World Champion. You were a legend.

“WOOOOO!” You screamed as tears rolled down beneath your hemet. “We did it! We did it!”

“We did it!” Pedro screamed. You knew the entire RedBull garage was going crazy right now. “You did it Y/n!”

“Thank you, everyone! This would’ve been impossible without you all! Amazing year! Incredible work!” you beamed.

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“That’s P6, P6 Oscar,” his race engineer announced.

“Did Y/n get it? Did she win?”

“Yes, your girl is a World Champion,” he smiled.

“YES! YES! THAT’S MY FUCKING GIRL!” he screamed, elated at the news. He knew you could do it. He’d always known you could do it.

He rushed to get to the pit lane, ready to celebrate with you. He jumped out of the car and pulled off his helmet as fast as he could, watching as you ran over to him.

“You did it!” He cheered. “My fucking girl.”

“I did it!” You cried, over the moon. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” you smiled.

His eyes filled with tears as his heart swelled with pride. “You’re amazing. I love you so much Y/n.”

Neither of you cared about the cameras around you as you went in for a kiss. You didn’t care about how sweaty and gross you both were, you didn’t care about the grief that the pr team would give you, you didn’t care.

You were a World Champion. He was your everything. You were his everything.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula one imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula one #mclaren #oscar piastri x fem!reader #f1 fluff

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xotaemintol · 2 months ago

Text

MARKHYUCK X FEMBLACK READER //APT.// <PT.1>

♡ “All you gotta do is meet me at the…” ♡

[She/Her pronouns, plus size friendly. Warning, this fanfiction will contain; heavy drinking, cursing, drunk sex, oral sex, vaginal sex, kissing, unprotected sex, implications of cheating, and more. Part one contains; Heavy Drinking, stripping, and cursing. If any of these things are triggering for you, please look away, thank you.]

[What is APT? 아파트 (AH/PA/TU), is an Korean drinking game. Two players or more stack their hands and chant: “아파트, 파트, 아파트, 파트, 아파트.” as they wave their hands, alternating them between each other. One player picks a number and another counts, as this player counts everyone moves their hands to the top starting from the bottom. The player with their hand on the top takes a shot and the game continues.]

(Please ignore any mistakes 😭 this was deleted 2 times, and I’ve rewritten all of this from memory, so bear with me. I’m also debating on finishing this, but you let me know what I should do.)

Leave it to Jisung Park to cancel plans he made at the last minute. You should’ve known better than to listen to him when he said he wanted to join Mark and Haechan to throw you a small house warning party. Not even 30 minutes later and he had already backtracked.

“Sorry, I can’t make it tonight, another night okay?” He said. You could strangle him. You had ordered enough food to feed four grown men, and just as you expected, he canceled.

But, luckily for you Mark and Donghyuck were on there way. They sent a text to the groupchat reassuring you that they’d be coming tonight, unlike Jisung.

You sigh and grab three shot glasses to sat them on the coffee table. Placing them down you smile. At least you can count on the two of them, so you don’t feel too bad. It’s not even 15 minutes after their text that you hear your doorbell ring, excited, you squeal and rush over to the door as you call out in a singing tone; “Coming!”

You check the small monitor beside the door, just to be sure that it’s them before—just as you assumed, it is. With a large smile on your face you open the door and squeal happily.

“You came!” You hug them both as Mark laughs. “Duh, we told you we were.” Haechan says jokingly in a snarky tone.

You roll your eyes playfully and look down at the bags in his hands. “Whoa, is that just alcohol?” You ask. Mark nods, “I told him we don’t need that much, but he said-“ “What’s a house warming party without enough alcohol to kill a bear?” You laugh and nod your head in agreement as you step aside to let them in.

Mark shakes his head, they take off their shoes by the door and you lead them back inside.

“It’s just the three of us though, we can’t drink all of that.” Mark agrees with you, but Haechan only waves the two of you off. “It’ll be fine, you can keep whatever you don’t drink tonight—think of it as a gift from your favorite man.” You snicker and sit down on the floor in front of your couch.

They look around the apartment for a second before sitting down. “Damn, this might be nicer than my place.” Mark says. You scoff and look up at him with a smile, “You mean your hundred billion dollar apartment? Yeah, right.” Haechan grunts softly as he sits on the couch beside you.

He sits the bags down on the table and begins to empty the contents out. “Might be? Mark could spend ten billion dollars and his apartment would still suck compared to yours.” You watch as he empties the bottles out of the bags. “What? Why?” Mark asks. Haechan look at him with a smug expression and says; “Because, your apartment doesn’t have a pretty woman.” He says simply.

“Yours doesn’t have one either.” “Says who? Y/N comes over all the time.” “Sure she does. She basically lived with me before she moved.” The pair continue to bicker, but your attention shifts to the sheer amount of alcohol Donghyuck bought. Silently, you count the bottles.

‘1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11…’

Your eyes widen and you turn to Haechan saying; “How much do you expect us to drink tonight? Aren’t you both lightweights?!” Mark immediately disagrees, so does Donghyuck. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.”

After giving them a tour of your apartment, you decided that it would be nice to watch a movie while waiting for the food to come. None of the three of you had even acknowledged the bottles of soju sitting on the table. You were too busy trying to figure out what to do next to beat the settling boredom.

“Let’s watch another movie.” You suggest, “There’s nothing to watch.” Donghyuck states. You hum softly as you scroll through the endless movies on the screen. “Terrifier?” Mark immediately disagrees. “Absolutely not, it’s just gore and cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Ballerina?” “We watched that last month.” “A quiet place?” “No, we watched that too.”

You continue going back and forth with Mark until Haechan finally speaks up and says; “Let’s play 아파트!” You turn to look at Haechan and with a confused expression you ask; “What’s that?” He grins.

“A drinking game.” He slips off the couch and sits on the floor beside you. “So, we all put our hands on top of each others and go ‘아파트 파트, 아파트 파트,아파트 파트.’ And then we start move our hands up to the top of the stack and then who’s ever hand is on top has to drink.” You stare at Donghyuck slightly confused, slowly nodding your head with a puzzled expression.

He shakes his head and sucks his teeth. “Mark,” he says, “Come here.” Mark—seemingly already knowing what the game is, sits beside you on the floor and rolls his eyes. “Look, we’ll show you.” Mark puts his hand in the middle and Haechan places his hand on top, Mark puts his hand above Haechans and then Haechan puts his other above Marks.

“Okay, now—since I suggested the game, we say ‘Hyuck’s game, Donghyuck game, game start’ and then we wave are hands like this.”

To demonstrate, they begin waving their hands while alternating which one is on top and which one is on the bottom while chanting; “아파트 파트, 아파트 파트, 아파트 파트.” When they stop Haechan’s hand is on the bottom, while one of Mark’s is on the top. “Okay, so since my hand is on the bottom, I pick a number and Mark counts.” You nod and watch. “9.” Mark rolls his eyes and sighs before counting to nine.

“1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.” After counting Mark’s hand is on top again. “Since Mark’s hand is on top he has to take a shot, and then it’s his turn to choose and I count.” He says, “Sounds easy, right?” You nod, this time fully understanding.

“Yeah, easy when he isn’t cheating.” Mark mutters, “There is no cheating, you’re just bad at the game.”

After just 20 minutes Mark is 5 shots deep, you’re 4, and Haechan is only 1. You quickly realized after your third shot that Donghyuck is strangely good at this game, and Mark is strangely bad at it. Luckily, it was your turn and you were really starting to grasp how to win.

“아파트 파트, 아파트 파트, 아파트 파트, 아파트 파트!” The three of you chant, your hand ends on the bottom and you look over at Haechan with a grin. His poker face is killer. He’s been so calm this whole time, laughing as you and Mark—mostly Mark, filled your glasses to the brim and took shot after shot. But you can’t let him win, so before shouting out a number you think. You glance around you for a second before hesitantly shouting out; “7!”

Mark begins to count and you nervously move your hands upward. “5, 6, 7.” “YES!” You jump up as Donghyuck’s hand lands on top. You laugh as he presses his tongue against his cheek, chuckling as Mark pats his shoulder. “Bottoms up Hyuck!” You tease.

You quickly sit down and pour his shot, pouring until the alcohol is almost overflowing. “Drink! Drink! Drink!” He laughs in amusement at your cute reaction and takes the shot to his head. Just like the first one, he makes it look easy.

As he sits his glass down you gasp and lean onto Mark in a playful manner, you place on hand on his chest and the other on his thigh. "Watch out Mark," You say in a fake whisper; "I think he's planning something." But Mark doesn't respond. His foggy mind is distracted by the smell of your lotion.

Usually he's used to you being so close, but in his impaired state he feels a little shameless. His desire to get a better smell of your scent is a little stronger than his morality, so, he leans in close to smell you a little more. But, just as he does you turn around and look at him. He flinches back and quickly looks away from you, turning red from his neck up as he nervously laughs.

"Be careful, we can't let him win." You add. Haechan, who watched silently laughs and adds in a teasing tone. "Yeah Markie Pooh, don't let me win." You snap your head over to Haechan and jokingly poke his chest as you glare at him. "I'm watching you, don't get cocky Hyuck." He smirks and looks down at you with his eyebrows raised. "Watch all you want," He says. "I don't mind."

You laugh and roll your eyes as you sit up. "Alright. Let's keep going."

The game continues and once again the three of you begin the chant. This time, Mark's hand is at the bottom and Donghyuck counts. Just as expected your hand ends up on top. "Damn it!"

You grab your glass and Haechan fills it to the brim. You huff and quickly down the drink, "Alright! Let's go." Haechan laughs and nods.

"아파트 파트, 아파트 파트, 아파트 파트, 아파트 파트!" This time, his hand is at the bottom. "8." Haechan calls out. Mark inhales deeply and begins to count. "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8." You silently prayed for Donghyuck's hand to end up on top—but, conveniently for him, this time it's Mark.

You grab another bottle of soju and fill Mark's shot glass. The game continues like this for another five minutes until it's finally Haechan's turn to drink again, but before taking his shot he looks at the two of you and says. "Let's make this more fun." "How?" You ask. His grin tells you that he has a mischievous idea in mind.

"Let's strip after every shot." He suggests. "What?! No!" "Okay." Your reaction is completely different from Mark's. In your mind, the added element of stripping would add a million times more thrill to the game. Currently, there isn't much at stake other than a hangover for everyone. But stripping, adds a certain type of excitement and risk that would make this game even more fun.

As you turn to Mark you ask; "Why not?" Donghyuck leans over your shoulder and repeats after you asking in a teasing tone; "Yeah Mark, why not?" Mark rolls his eyes but before he can respond you say; "C'mon Mark, it'll be fun!" Mark looks at the both of you for a second, the mischievous look on Haechan's face and the excited one on yours spell danger, but—he agrees either way.

"Okay, fine." "Yes!" Haechan takes his shot and this time, instead of continuing the game, he begins to peel his shirt off his body. As he does so you watch with wide and surprises eyes. As he does so you watch with wide and surprises eyes. You grin as he tosses his shirt aside and reach to touch his chest, but he covers his body with his arms and stops you.

"Uh, uh! This isn't free ma'am!" He says jokingly, "But for you..." He moves his arms and allows you to freely touch his chest. You laugh as your hands roam his chest saying; "I love this game." You look over at Mark and grin. "Sorry Mark," Your hand pauses for a moment and you give him a fake pout. "But I hope you lose."

"What?! Why?" Mark asks with a laugh, you grin and shrug your shoulders saying; "I gotta see how much you have in common with Spider-Man." He scoffs and rolls his eyes, but Haechan laughs at your joke.

"Whatever, let's keep playing."

Again the chanting starts. "아파트 파트, 아파트 파트, 아파트 파트, 아파트 파트!" Now that the stakes have been raised, every time the word leaves your mouth your hands feel sweater and your heart seems to beat a little faster. A mixture between excitement and anxiety fill your drunken body, and when your hands finally stop—with yours at the bottom, you almost jump up in excitement as you yell out; "YES!"

They laugh at your excitement, but as soon as you throw out a number, Mark's laughter stops. Donghyuck counts and your hands begin to move. "3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10." "DAMN IT!" Mark curses as his hand ends up on top, but you can't help but cheer. "Yeah baby! Strip! Strip! Strip!" Haechan laughs loudly at your reaction and at Mark's loss as he pours him a shot, only filling the glass half way this time.

Mark huffs loudly and takes it, he slowly drinks it down and then slams the glass on the table. "Take it off! Take it off! Take-" You stop and cover your mouth as he glares at you playfully. You retreat to Haechan and lean your back against him while chanting a bit quieter, "Take it off, take it off." Haechan now following along behind you to further antagonize Mark.

Reluctantly, Mark slowly strips himself of his shirt—only to reveal a white tank top underneath his T-shirt.

“Aw man! What the hell?” You roll your eyes in annoyance and sit up. Mark can’t help but laugh at your reaction. “What?” He teases, “Were you that excited to see me naked?” With zero hesitation you say yes. “Why are you wearing two shirts anyways?” “I always wear an under shirt.” You roll your eyes and look away from him.

“Yeah, alright.”

The game continues and this time Mark’s hand is at the bottom, the two of you stare at him—waiting for him to shout out a number. You can tell he’s nervous from the way his eyes dart around. His cute smile as he thinks gives you butterflies.

“Uhm, 12!” You laugh and shake your head as you begin to count. “1, 2, 3…” You slowly, the anticipation is killing Mark, but entertaining for you and Haechan. “7, 8, 9, 10, 11…” You laugh, knowing that it’ll be on Mark again and finally say 12. Mark groans loudly as Haechan bursts into laughter.

“Take it off! Take it off!” This time, you’re fully expecting him to take off his shirt. But of course not. “Socks count as clothing.” Mark says. You whine and roll your eyes. “What?! How! That’s not even fair!” Haechan stops you and says in a calm tone. “No no, let him take of his socks.” “After that, he’ll have to take his shirt off.”

You look at Donghyuck and softly gasp in excitement. “You’re right!” Mark laughs in disbelief at the both of you and takes both his socks off.

As the game starts again you feel even more determined. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but the room suddenly feels a bit hotter. Tension rises with every second but it only makes the game even more entertaining.

Your hands stop again, but this time Haechan’s hand on the bottom.

In a relaxed manner Haechan calls out his number; “7.” Both you and Mark, are expecting him to have set up Mark to take his shirt off, it only makes sense. Nervously, Mark begins to count, but unexpectedly, your hand ends up on top. “NO!” Mark laughs as he claps his hands. “Ha!” Donghyuck joins him and pours your shot.

“Whatever, youll end up taking it off either way.” You take off your shirt and then drink the alcohol in your glass. When you sit it down the two of them are shamelessly, staring at your breast.

“If you’re gonna stare at least don’t make it so obvious.” You joke. “Hey, it’s not my fault your heart is behind your breasts.” Haechan says, you laugh and playfully shove him as Mark sits silently, turning red as he tries his hardest not to stare.

“Okay, let’s go.”

This time, the chanting is a lot slower. The game feels more fun, but you also feel a little anxious. Sitting between the two of them like this isn’t completely out of the ordinary, you’ve changed in front of them more times than you can count on your fingers and toes—but something about this, the energy and the heat radiating of their bodies makes it feel different.

“아파트 파트, 아파트 파트, 아파트 파트…” repeating the process, only this time you’ve picked the number—Haechan counts and your hands move. Your breathing becomes deeper and slower. Finally, your hands stop and to your luck, Mark’s hand is on top .

You high five Donghyuck before pouring Mark’s shot, only filling it half way. “Drink up.” Mark shakes his head and picks up the glass. He takes a second before sipping it down, and when it’s all gone he sits it down then slowly slips his shirt off.

He tossing his shirt next to yours, before he can say anything your hands are already on his body as if they have a mind of their own. He doesn’t even stop you. Instead he watches with a smirk on his flushed face

“Are you happy now?” He asks, you nod and look at him. “Very.” You respond. He leans his head back and smiles with his tongue pressed against his cheek, “You act like you’ve never seen us without a shirt on before.” Haechan says. “Yeah, but usually y’all act like I’m a criminal for looking.” Mark grabs your hands and raises his eyebrow at you. “You’re acting like one.” He says playfully.

You laugh and put your hands up. “Can you blame me?” “Yes.” Again, the game starts. “아파트 파트, 아파트 파트, 아파트 파트!” The pace picks up again as excitement builds and your hand is on the bottom. “13!” Mark counts, his speed also picking up. “9, 10, 11, 12, 12!”

The two of them cheer loudly as you hand lands on top. “Let’s go!” Mark shouts, they high five and laugh—but after you’ve taken your shot they both realize what comes next and their excite smiles slowly fade.

“Oh, wait. You don’t have to-“ Before Mark can finish you stand up and begin unbuttoning your pants. “Rules are rules.” You shove your pants down, trying not to let your underwear get caught—when they’re down to your calf’s you place your hand on Haechan’s shoulder to keep your balance.

You struggle to get them off your leg, it only hits you now just how drunk you are. Luckily, Mark notices and helps you. He looks up at you as he slowly slides the pant leg down your calf, the look in his hazy eyes is a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. Your own reflection almost the same thing.

You look down at him a little longer, staring into his eyes as the tension stirs—quickly becoming sexual. It’s only when Haechan clears his throat that you look away. You chuckle anxiously and stumble a little as you place your other hand on Marks shoulder so you can get the other leg down. But just as Mark did, Haechan helps you get it off.

Placing one hand on your foot and the other on your knee, just above your shin he looks up at you with a look similar to Marks. A confident one, one that’s equally as sexual. His hand slowly slides down your leg to push the fabric off your—now, warm skin. When it’s bunched up at the bottom he pulls it all the way down then tosses them to the side with his own shirt.

Slowly, you sit down with the help of Haechan and inhale deeply.

“Should we keep going?” He asks, you nod your head and then look to Mark who seemed to be waiting for your answer before giving his own. “You aren’t gonna quit now, right?” Mark shakes his head. “What about you?” Haechan shakes his head as well. “Okay, good!”

You clap your hands together and put them in the middle, they quickly follow suit—in your stomach the heat you felt becomes a scorching sensation. As you move your hands the tingling sensation in the depths of your body becomes stronger.

“9.” Mark says. As he slurs his words, Haechan counts to nine. Mark moves his hand, then you move yours, then Haechan, then Mark, then you, then Haechan, then Mark, then you again, and finally Haechan.

Standing up Haechan locks his lips and slowly pulls the strings to his feet sweats loose. As they come undone you feel a soft throb between your legs, you watch shamelessly. Too intoxicated to pretend that you hadn’t ever thought about a moment like this. He slowly shoves them down his thighs, his face turning red as the bulge in his underwear is put on full display.

The moment you notice it you feel a sensation similar to having to pee, that heat quickly turns into a wetness.

Neither you or Mark make a comment about the erection in his boxers. At this point, you’re sure Mark must be on the same page. It’d be pointless to point it out.

“Should we keep going?” Mark asks, before Haechan could answer you respond for him. “Why would we stop?” Both your words are slurred. “Exactly, I’ll be damned if I’m the only one exposed tonight.” Donghyuck sits down and you laugh a little. “See, this is why I’m glad I don’t have a penis.” You comment, “What does that mean?” Donghyuck asks.

“Exactly what I said.” You look at him, but his expression makes you look away immediately. His eyes are low and the grin on his face makes you feel unbelievably horny. “But anyways…” You clear your throat and sit up. ‘Relax.’ You think to yourself. But the feeling between your legs is so intense already.

“C’mon, you said we should keep going.” Everyone places their hands in the middle again, but now, there’s no chant. You move your hands and when your hand is on the bottom, you give a number and silently pray that it doesn’t end up in you being completely bare. “1…2…3…4…5…6..7…8…” To your luck, Mark’s hand is on the top. This time, he doesn’t reach to grab his glass; instead, he stands up and unbuckles his belt.

Again, you sit mesmerized. Admiring the way his hands look as he yanks his belt through the loops, even in your drunken state you can still recall all the times you’ve thought about being on your knees in front of him as he took his pants off.

His belt hits the floor with a loud clanking sound, but you don’t look away to see where it landed; you’re too busy watching him remove his pants in a rushed manner. You lick your lips as you see the band of his boxers. Just like Donghyuck, when he’s finally removed them you can see that you were right. He’s in the same boat. The erection in his boxers is as clear as day…..

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moonbaby26 · 2 months ago

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Title: Trust

(Chapter 19 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader, Smoker x Reader (in the past)

Chapter Warnings: language, toxic relationships, Doflamingo is still insane, breeding kink

Chapter Synopsis: As the marines begin to react further in response to Doflamingo’s public ensnarement of you and their true helplessness in it all, the warlord still grapples with the mistakes of his past that he now refuses to repeat.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19

Fic Masterlist

——————————

Only once in Sengoku’s life could he remember ever truly yelling at this woman. And he’d had tears running down his face the night that he’d done so.

Five years ago, when they’d also been on the phone together, oceans apart much like they were now.

And to his shame, in the grief of that moment, Sengoku had had the gall to accuse Tsuru of holding back. He’d told her that her softness had allowed Doflamingo one too many second chances.

Sengoku had blamed her for still wishing to save what was already long gone within that boy, and thereby enabling every subsequent tragedy which followed from his actions.

He remembered yelling that it should have been Doflamingo lying cold and dead two decks below her in that makeshift morgue on her warship, and not his precious Rosinante instead.

He’d berated a woman he trusted more than any other in this world. As if she hadn’t been sitting there in silence with that very same pain in her heart that night.

Sengoku had been too consumed in his own emotions then, when it’d only been Tsuru who had had to personally oversee the retrieval of the body once Doflamingo’s ship had again escaped over the horizon.

Only she had been the one barking orders at her entirely confused crew. Telling them to treat a former Donquixote executive’s remains with care befitting one of their own as they’d unknowingly dug Sengoku’s adopted son from the still falling snow with their bare hands.

“I gave you as many days as I could.” Is what she told him now.

And her voice was as cold as that snow must have been then. Though she still didn’t yell at him in the way he deserved. Tsuru didn’t return that cruelty that he’d given her those years ago.

Not yet.

The fleet admiral’s eyes were closed behind his glasses in guilt regardless. His forehead rested against his hand in his disgust for what these webs had really become.

Somehow they had all become entwined.

Somehow this nightmare had still never stopped.

Rosinante had sworn to him that he would not go back to his brother in the end. Because they had all known the danger and most likely final result.

And Tsuru had never expected you to have needed to make that same promise to them.

Rosinante had gone to Minion Island willingly. Just as you’d gone to Scylla, specifically requesting leave there that Momonga hadn’t known enough to deny.

And Doflamingo had been ready and waiting both times.

Neither you or Rosinante had left that devil again after stepping willfully back into his strings.

And why?

Why could Doflamingo never be sated? Why did it always have to be those that they already loved that he took?

“Every day, Tsuru. Every day I have been asking the Five Elders of when enough is enough. Or even for them to give me a single goddamn reason. A reason of why he’s now become this untouchable.”

Sengoku had taken all the criticism from his admirals, from Garp, and from Tsuru. But he had never stopped working towards a resolution behind the scenes.

Because this was so deeply personal.

It didn’t matter that you were only a captain, only a single marine in his ranks of thousands.

He’d never wanted Tsuru to have to go through this as he had with Rosinante.

But today’s newspaper and the lies within had been her final straw.

This phone line was encrypted. But it may not have mattered today. She was that furious.

“I want you to understand that this call is simply a courtesy. I will not be returning to HQ. I will not be maintaining the blockade here. Cipher Pol is welcome to keep chasing my ship as they see fit. But we’re crossing the calm belt and heading for Dressrosa.”

His most steadfast vice admiral was now abandoning her post in Lyra.

“I’ll deal with Cipher Pol.” Sengoku muttered. He’d have to lie that he had given her specific orders to leave.

Lyra was still under full World Government quarantine. No one was allowed in or out as they finished whatever bioweapon testing they’d really chosen that island and its rebels as horrific test subjects for.

Tsuru had hated that too of course, as anyone with a soul should.

But this additional stress with Doflamingo had broken what remained of that dam and all she’d been holding in. She would not be cooperating a moment further.

“I also want you to check with Mariejois for a marriage registration in his name. I suspect he’s already signed her over to him if he was willing to make this public declaration and antagonize us outright this way.”

Sengoku’s eyes finally opened again there.

He also knew Tsuru well enough to understand that the false calmness as she said these things meant nothing of her true intentions.

“And if he has done that…what are you going to do with that information?” He asked her with the tension far clearer in his own tone.

The silence hung for a moment.

“You understand what he’s really doing, don’t you?” Her voice sounded briefly more cutting there.

“I don’t try to understand the reasonings of the insane.” Sengoku’s bitterness was reemerging as well.

An enemy would always be an enemy. And Sengoku lived for the day that Doflamingo’s immunity would finally fail him.

But that day was not today.

“He lost his previous marine. By his own hand.” Tsuru said next, somber but factual.

An assumption they always knew must be true. Though Doflamingo had never once confessed to Rosinante’s murder to them outright.

“He thinks she’s strong enough to survive his madness where so many others have not. He’s betting on that. Because he’s terrified of ending up alone. He always has been.” She said so surely, with that additional impatience that meant she would be hanging up momentarily.

The fleet admiral’s eyes narrowed. But he knew it was already futile. He could stop his own admirals easier than he could this woman once she had made up her mind.

“And how do you know this isn’t exactly what he wants you to do, Tsuru? Just to draw you in as well?”

“I’m an old woman. So it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m not letting her endure this alone. Just be ready to mobilize if the winds change in Mariejois.” Her finality was clear.

And it still hurt. Be it today, five years ago, ten years ago, twenty, or more. Sengoku had lost too many loved ones already.

One day she wouldn’t come back to him either.

This was the way of their world.

“Be safe, Tsuru-chan.” Sengoku’s voice quieted. “Please.”

The snail’s eyes looked out in that knowing silence.

“You know my answer to that.” She spoke one last time before hanging up.

And he could only smirk sadly. “I do.”

Sengoku, Garp, and Tsuru had once considered themselves a trio. They used to laugh about inescapable danger.

Death will come when my purpose is done.

That had been their irreverent rhyme of a saying. One far easier said in the arrogance of youth. And not from the aged veterans they’d become, just trying to protect their vulnerable seeds of the future.

——————————

“Oh, boo hoo! Just get over it already! If you didn’t want to share your notes, then you should have encrypted your data better!” Caesar’s golden eyes had gleamed as he floated closer, the newspaper still spread taut within his grip.

He was grinning too, flipping through the pages again and the pictures that graced them. “What a lovely couple! So how could you be so selfish as to not grant their hearts’ desire?”

Vegapunk made another disinterested noise, looking through large goggles and still trying to resume the experiment he had so frustratingly been interrupted from when Caesar had first burst into his lab.

“If you had any ethics or common sense at all, you would drop this subject immediately. It’s not our place to interfere in something like that.” The older scientist tried to rebuff again.

“You think I don’t have common sense!?” Caesar’s voice was immediately more grating as his thin lips moved back into a scowl.

“I look the other way repeatedly for you,” Vegapunk reminded, already used to these theatrics from the other. Though still watching the beaker in front of him as its contents began to change in density and color.

“I’ve ignored your greed and resulting moonlighting of still selling illicit compounds right from our backdoor. As well as your questionable tastes in companionship at all hours in your quarters. Your ‘socializing’ is quite loud and distracting.” Vegapunk also criticized.

Caesar blinked. So what? When he did have escorts over to visit from Dressrosa, they were paid very well for their trip. And he’d be damned if after spending that much of his payments from Joker on such entertainment, that he would have just let those women lay in his bed quietly.

“Ugh, spare me your false modesty! You dirty old hypocrite.” Caesar clucked, waving a gloved hand dismissively even as he now floated to Vegapunk’s other side like an insistent child.

“These two are my friends, I’m telling you. And they are desperate to start a family!” He just went on, then trying to shove the newspaper in front of the other scientist again.

“I already read it.” Vegapunk responded flatly. “And you don’t have any friends. I know Doflamingo must be your client. There is no other reason for you to be as fixated as you are with him. Money and cruelty are the only things which have ever enticed you to this degree.”

“Well he enjoys my creativity! And he knows a real genius when he sees one!” Caesar didn’t even bother to fully deny the accusation that time. If Vegapunk really was going to tattle on him just for taking money under the table, he already would have. Though Caesar was sure even Dr. Vegapunk didn’t know all the things they’d been cooking up together.

“He’s just using you. And you’re insecure enough to encourage it.”

“He is not just-” Caesar’s quick temper nearly got away from him all the way there, before he briefly bit his own lip to stop it. “Okay, fine! Doflamingo wants a child with her. I don’t even know this girl or care what she thinks! But look at the full picture. What happens to queens that don’t hold up their end of the bargain in giving a man like that his heirs?”

Caesar rather gleefully made an exaggerated pantomime of moving his finger in a sharp slice against his own throat to this.

And finally, only at that insinuation of barbarism to a supposed innocent like yourself, did Vegapunk actually look him in the eyes. Secretly sympathetic as that fool could often be.

“And how could I trust he wouldn’t still harm her regardless?” The older man asked, rightfully skeptical.

“Because it doesn’t matter of course! Doflamingo will be here tomorrow night to pick this up either way!” Caesar exclaimed, lifting the small vial he’d already made from his gaseous coat pocket.

“But my serum for her will be meaningless if he isn’t capable of delivering on the other half of the equation!” Caesar attempted to reiterate that need for urgency as well. “After all these years of working together, you’re really just going to leave me hanging like this, Vegapunk?”

“You should be embarrassed is what you should be. You got yourself into this mess. And now you come to my lab, interrupting me just to admit you don’t know how to mitigate something as simple as varicoceles in the testes?” Vegapunk asked with further incredulousness.

Yet Caesar ignored that heavier insult just this once, eyes widening as he pointed at the other scientist instead. “Aha! So you did already look at the data to figure out a solution! I knew it! Your ego couldn’t help it, could it? You prideful monster!”

“Of course I can correct it! At least temporarily at least. His lineage factors are a mess of recessive alleles.” Vegapunk did look properly shamed for only that moment to be so called out though. “But how far were you planning on going? What’s in your serum that could conflict with mine if I do make one? Is this full blown eugenics?“

Caesar paused, his seeming victory only weakened in his belated realization that Vegapunk may have indeed noticed more disfunction in Doflamingo’s bloodline than he had at first glance.

But Caesar would never admit aloud that his own concoction could be even further insufficient then. Yet he knew just how to give Vegapunk that extra, personal investment to do the rest of the hard work for him.

“He was aware of Vinsmoke’s wife.” Caesar admitted abruptly there, feigning an extra somber expression even if this was actually the truth. “And Doflamingo was explicit about wanting both his baby and the womb owner to survive without permanent damage this time. So I’d say whatever it takes to ensure that.”

Vegapunk lifted up his goggles then, watching the gas logia user carefully. Those stressed brow lines were now wrinkling all the way up the older scientist’s unnaturally large forehead.

He had indeed taken that emotional bait when it came to thinking of Sora’s death.

A tragedy that his weaker heart did not think worth repeating.

“If you’re going to be like Judge to do this to some poor woman either way…it might as well be safe. Give me your serum so I can analyze it. I’ll come up with something.” Vegapunk sighed.

And Caesar smiled.

It really was too easy.

—————————

The sun was beating down by midday. Hot and relentless, just the way Doflamingo wanted it to be for this as he stretched his long legs across your lap, relaxing on his outdoor couch together by the pool.

At least he was relaxing anyway. You were quite a different story.

You hadn’t yet recovered from his confessions of this morning. And well…also from the totality of every other thing that had occurred from the moment he’d first kissed your hand in front of those camera flashes in the bloodied ballroom in Scylla to today.

And it had only been days, not weeks since then. But he lived a fast paced life.

One which you were now living too.

The newspaper had finally come as well, just as over the top and simultaneously aghast and excited by his manufactured drama as expected. The world would be salivating to see the navy’s next official reaction to your and his sordid love story he was sure.

But you’d refused to read a word of it yet.

Just as you also refused the untouched food still on the tray in front of you.

Only Doflamingo and his crew ate. Enjoying lunch and drinks as he took a few more phone calls while the other Donquixote members either sunbathed or played cards in the shade beneath the archways.

He’d left the palace gates closed. There were no money hungry sycophants in their little string bikinis bouncing around to distract him today.

He already had the pretty toy he wanted most right now.

Though you had needed a bit of help. He’d made you change out of the ugly clothes he knew you’d been hiding your wounds in this morning.

So you were currently in a very short sundress he’d chosen instead. One he could tell you hated as his gaze rarely left your more exposed figure and bared shoulders while he talked on the phone.

He didn’t conduct any business conversations he was too concerned with you hearing though. He made sure of that. It was mostly just receiving flattery as other high ranking contacts of his called to offer their mix of congratulations and surprise.

Everyone wanted to know a wedding date. They wanted to know his next move with the marines. And if they knew him even a little better than most, then they were trying to get a sense of his motives too.

What was in it for Joker?

Surely Donquixote Doflamingo didn’t have a heart.

They all knew he already had money, power, and more lovers waiting in the wings than he could possibly run his cock through on any given night.

So what the hell could a random marine provide to him now?

And such burning curiosity about you apparently extended to his uninvited guests as well, just as Doflamingo had ended another call, returning the receiver back to his snail beside him.

The Tontattas had been especially bold ever since your arrival in Dressrosa. As if they really thought he hadn’t noticed their little scouts flitting about more and more often.

Target practice was all he’d call them whenever they failed to stay on his blind side though. And he enjoyed the way he did see you startle as that bullet string left his fingertip without warning.

The resulting pop of the then exploding terracotta roof tile he’d hit had his officers looking briefly skyward as well.

But there was no blood spatter running down the eaves this time, a rare miss for him.

“Just clearing some of the bigger bugs we get around here.” Doflamingo chuckled as his vague explanation to you anyway, kicking his shoes off then as he kept his legs still across your thighs. “They’re a nuisance.”

“I didn’t see anything.” You said quietly. The first words you’d spoken in a few hours at least.

“They’re fast.” He answered simply, albeit smiling just to hear your voice again.

It was true he hadn’t intended to have this morning go as oddly as it had with you.

But he hadn’t expected to find your tired eyes boring through him just like his brother’s used to either. Only complimented by the haunting smell of the cigarette smoke as it’d drifted from you like a vengeful ghost, there to grab a hold of him as soon as he’d reentered his suite.

It was too many memories for him, too many feelings all at once. And things had just started falling from his lips afterward.

He’d told you how you did remind him of Corazon.

And how he couldn’t lose that twice.

How badly he wanted his blood family back.

And how he would make you be the means to that end in any way necessary.

But he hadn’t yet taken your contraceptive pills away either. Because you were this stressed already, even with you believing there was still more time for you.

He’d let you think you were still being protected by those pills for now. Not so much as a real mercy to you, but more because he wanted you to eat again. He needed you to relax again.

So that he could have you functioning to do what he needed to do with you. It made his life easier if you weren’t in a full blown breakdown twenty-four seven.

Though since you were already this upset this morning. There was one other thing he’d planned to now get out of the way as he felt that first bead of sweat running down his chest in this oppressive heat.

Doflamingo smiled wider at you as he slid his legs back off of your lap for his bare feet to meet the warm ground.

This dangerous idea was yet another reason he’d shut everyone but his most trusted out of the courtyard now.

“I think we should cool off, love.” He said so casually then too. His head turning to look briefly towards that tranquil water which sparkled in the sunlight without a soul yet within it.

And his sunglasses were just as reflective as that deep water when he looked back to you. You and the dark realization already beginning across your own face while his hand grazed your bandaged thigh.

That wrapping would just have to be redone again.

“I’ll get in if you do.” He promised then, but unable to keep the cruelty from his resulting smirk either. You were just too smart as he saw the correct assumption fill your eyes, hungover or not. You were learning the proper times to assume the worst in his intentions.

“But yes…you first. I want to see you swim for me.” He confirmed as his smirk grew into a grin.

“You already know I’m not a devil fruit user. A test isn’t necessary.” Came your first attempt at argument regardless.

And he’d known it would be this way. He had no illusions of you going easily to anything right now.

His executives were already getting up though, listening to you both as they began to spread out around the pool.

He had warned them of this earlier.

“Just like we knew my brother wasn’t hiding a power from us either?” Doflamingo tutted at you anyway. “Official records can lie, darling. And you’re so good at what you do. I just need to be sure this time. I’d hate to ever carry doubt of my own wife…that’d just be miserable for me.”

For him.

At least he said it out loud this time.

Because his own emotions were all he thought of as he refused any further stalling on your part. The sooner this was over, the faster he could return to the pleasure he wanted.

“I’ll be waiting for you on the steps. That will be your only way out.” Doflamingo spoke so calmly, even as he’d yanked you off that couch by your arm when he’d stood.

And you’d still almost set him off balance in return when the struggle began. No small feat for someone already injured and only partly his size. But his strings pulled your legs out from under you with equal vigor before you could kick him.

He had to be fast, very fast, throwing you before your strong grip could get a solid hold on him either.

There was no guilt in him either of course. No matter how many times you’d already gotten further upset over this exact kind of rough treatment.

Part of his shirt sleeve which you’d ripped still ended up in the pool however. Floating, torn on the water’s surface once that large splash collapsed back in on itself after you’d hit the water.

“She sank!” Trebol exclaimed, sounding delighted.

“Everyone does at first. It’s whether she comes back up or not.” Diamante answered slightly more sensibly, but looking at the still rippling water with an eager anticipation all his own.

Doflamingo knew there was some jealousy at play in their excitement of course. They thought you hadn’t yet earned your place at his side.

And only they’d seen the mess he’d really been after Rosinante. To which they’d all vowed never again.

They had every right to be this overprotective of him now.

Doflamingo’s own grin had vanished with your body as he’d stalked the edge of the pool in that brief time between. His height giving him an excellent vantage point while the still disturbed water now lapped the sides.

“How long do you want to wait, Doffy?” Pica was the only one already sounding anxious by comparison. Pica’s devil fruit could lift the entire courtyard, and dump all that water in an instant if his master only bid it.

“Her wounded leg certainly won’t help her. Give it a little longer.” Doflamingo answered firmly.

He couldn’t let them rush things. Because this trial was actually two fold after all.

Part one was just to clear the last of his anxiety of your hiding any secrets like his last Corazon.

And part two…

“Remember, if she comes up at any of the sides, don’t let her out. She only leaves the pool through me.” Doflamingo reminded his men as he now removed the rest of his torn shirt.

He had seen the warped shape of you finally moving along the bottom. You weren’t paralyzed, though he hadn’t truly expected you to be. His stress could now shift to what he had to do next to himself.

His men hadn’t liked this portion of the plan earlier when he’d said it in private. And they certainly didn’t enjoy seeing it in action now as Doflamingo first stepped off the side and onto the underwater stairs which led to the pool’s bottom.

But he’d timed it well, wading in only in his capris pants. The cooler water was all the way to his knees just as your head at last broke the surface.

You looked initially furious of course. Spitting out water and barely staying afloat, fighting your weakened leg just as he’d thought while you kicked hard to stay upright. Your feet were nowhere near the bottom in that deepest section of the pool.

And just as you’d spun to curse or even fight one of them, his breath had caught as he felt the paralysis begin through his own lower body all at once when the water met his thighs.

Doflamingo’s power was fully ripped away as he landed on his ass on one of those submerged steps. The water then up to his chest so quickly as he panted, his weight falling back just enough to touch his shoulders to the pool wall.

He’d barely managed to keep his arms above the water. Now only able to move them weakly as they laid limply stretched on either side of him along the pool’s edge.

This was much deeper than the time he’d sat in the bath with you. That time had only made him feel pleasantly sluggish on top of disconnecting from his devil fruit.

But right now, he couldn’t even have stood up if he’d tried.

And if he slipped further down or fell forward instead…

“So you can swim.” Doflamingo spoke through his now labored breathing, forcing a smile regardless of that near atrophy then spreading into his chest muscles.

There was still a very specific high in this for him of course. The rush of experiencing such primal fear he rarely got to play with. Not when he was so much stronger than anyone else he normally faced.

His crew was horror stricken to silence however. But the executives were keeping the officers dutifully back. Letting their insane master do as he wished. Even if it meant now handing himself to you on a platter just to see your reaction.

This second test was him wishing to confirm that additional difference between you and his brother in the end.

And all the more reason he really had thrown you into the deep as violently as he could.

Because humans showed their true colors most in times of duress. And he already had an idea of what you really were.

But he wanted to show the others. And he wanted to remind himself after he’d briefly seen his brother staring back at him this morning.

“The fuck.”

He saw you mouth those two words more than you actually said them as you finally saw him and his too precarious placement on those steps.

Your eyes narrowed and you took a sharp breath before going immediately back under.

It was easier for you to swim just beneath the surface, not fighting to keep yourself above it as the shape of you then moved towards him quicker than even he’d expected.

And he could still feel everything so acutely too as his body beautifully suffered. Your soft hands as they opened against his bare chest. Your knees as they bumped against his inner thighs.

You emerged right in front of him in no time at all, shoving him to put his back harder against that pool wall. The texture was so rough, scraping against his shoulders as he breathed louder.

“Was I already slipping, my love?” Doflamingo asked, trying to keep his head raised to watch you as a chuckle rumbled through him. You were fully holding his torso up by then.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!? You think this shit is funny!?” You bitched loud enough that every member of his crew surely heard you that time.

And it was a little frustrating to him, not to be able to just kiss you then and there with that lovely fear still in your eyes.

But he couldn’t move his body enough to do it. So he had to settle for another intoxicated smile instead. He couldn’t get enough of you like this.

“You surpass every expectation…you really do.” He tried to purr through his panting.

Because he knew it.

It wasn’t just about this silly game for you. It wasn’t anything about this goddamn pool at all really.

Your eyes said everything you were feeling.

And so Doflamingo laughed, even as your smaller arms tried to catch under his and force him up one stair step at a time. Wet skin to wet skin as you fought his dead weight with no help from his crew.

Donquixote Doflamingo could make anyone do anything. He could beat them, break them, cut them, or shoot them.

But he couldn’t make someone care.

Not the way you did, so naturally and sincerely.

You were too obvious, and he was loving every moment even as his back finally fell out flat and hard to the ground. Laying beside the pool with only his legs then still in the water as you nearly fell on top of him after forcing him out.

“You are too damn big! You fucking asshole!” You were breathing harder, in clear pain for the unexpected exertion you’d just endured.

No, you were not at all the next Rosinante in his mind at least.

Because your feelings for him were different than that, and his anxiety of this morning had finally quieted in this affirmation.

The heated air now against Doflamingo’s skin revitalized him rather quickly too. Only his knees were still bent over the pool edge with his calves and feet in the water as he grabbed you quickly before you could think twice.

“And you were so upset this morning…and for what?” He teased, pulling you down onto his chest to stop you from getting away.

He didn’t care if the girls in his crew would already be blushing now.

The two of you were laid in quite the compromising way then, glistening in the sunlight together.

Doflamingo was already strong enough again to grab one of your hands as he forced it over his still racing heart, continuing to talk to you. “Yes, you’re a marine. But the last one that lived with me aimed a pistol to this instead.” He said in reference to that hotly beating muscle inside, his mouth almost against yours too by then. “If I hadn’t answered with my own, none of this would be possible. Do you understand? He wanted to erase me…and you…” Doflamingo smiled, searching your still emotional eyes from behind his glasses.

“You only want to save me.”

He kissed you right after those words had left his lips, pulling you to him even tighter as he forced his tongue up into your mouth.

He might have heard Baby 5 gasp.

Maybe Dellinger had made a retching sound.

But they’d just have to get used to it.

You were here to stay. And soon enough they’d have a new little brother or sister to go along with this perfect family addition.

—————————

“Vice Admiral Tsuru has abandoned her post in Lyra and is no longer updating her coordinates. At least on our channels.” Tashigi said quietly. “The fleet admiral has ordered no one to speak to the press. And there is still a travel embargo in place to Dressrosa per HQ. No navy ships are allowed to port there until further notice. This order will be strictly enforced by the sailors of base G-5 and their commander Vice Admiral Vergo.”

Smoker remained silent, looking out to sea as his subordinate gave her latest updates from the bulletins that had been coming periodically across the snails all day.

Some transmissions were official, some more secondhand, leap frogged in communications from navy ship to navy ship here in the New World as everyone clamored to make any real sense of this new humiliation.

“We’ll still beat Tsuru there.” Smoker finally said gruffly.

He was standing alone otherwise.

Even as much of a rookie as Tashigi still was, she was the only one willing to approach him after he’d exploded on the rest of the crew earlier.

Smoker had yelled, asking how braindead they had to be to believe these steaming piles of dogshit being purported as the truth about you now.

And he could rage at his own men to knock sense into them all he wanted. But he knew their opinions would now reflect the majority of marines regardless.

Doflamingo was purposefully cutting off your support.

Just as Smoker and Aokiji had both assumed that pirate would further try to.

Yet that didn’t mean that Smoker was reacting well either. And he was certain Aokiji would be laid over a bar somewhere in Marineford by tonight.

“Are you okay…Captain?”

Tashigi’s damned soft voice only irritated him further as he bit against his cigars. “Shut off all our snails from here out until Dressrosa is in sight. Then start the S.O.S. signals. Tsuru has the right idea about going dark. There’s nothing else we need to know about this. We stick to the plan and that’s the end of it.”

“Yes, Captain.” She saluted only half heartedly however before walking away to deliver those orders to the communications room.

She even had the audacity to look back over her shoulder too. Her concern so insultingly etched over every bit of her body language as Smoker tried and failed to focus only on the ocean’s windswept whitecaps still in the distance.

He was a practical man. A straight forward man who loathed the idea of ever living within the failures of the past.

Everything should only be the next step forward. The next answer to what existed now, not to what was before.

But even his resolve was not enough to overcome this twisting thing, now eating through his heart and mind as he went through cigar after cigar.

He didn’t care if you hated him any longer.

He only cared if you hated yourself. And if he had so stupidly contributed to it in the end when he’d thought he’d only been pressing you to be better.

You had never been in love with him. Smoker was still certain of this. You’d just been killing time. The two of you were friends that’d gone too far, because it had felt good and you’d both been so similar.

He could trust you and you could trust him. And for almost two years that had been enough.

Until it wasn’t. Until he’d wanted more and it had started to hurt. But you’d never change. And you couldn’t understand why it was wrong.

Smoker had tried to pull back, expecting you to see it and cut him off with a vengeance. He had no insecurities that made him need to be the first to end it.

He’d wanted you to. To say you’d dumped him so you could walk on with your head held high. You’d needed that win far more than he did.

But you’d clung to him in your own way. And he’d been so irritated by it. Because in every other aspect of your life you were one of the fiercest women he’d ever known.

Yet you just wouldn’t walk away from him as many times as he’d tried to push you towards freedom.

The true end in his mind, being that last time the two of you had ever been physically intimate. Both your ships had been in a port in the East Blue at the same time. He had tried to have an honest conversation with you alone then. Because he’d never wanted to do something that serious over the phone.

But you’d wanted to go drinking instead, and he’d gotten all the more frustrated. Culminating in bending you over in the bathroom of the bar as he’d used himself up again inside of you.

He’d still wanted you so fully and he’d hated it. Because he’d seen your own anger and hurt. Drunk as you’d been, wanting his attention and affection even in the aftermath.

He didn’t enable you further to give it that night though as he’d only refastened his pants and helped you straighten your skirt before making sure you made it back to your ship safely.

You were never ready to listen to him. And you’d probably cried that night. He’d stayed awake the entire time on his own ship, waiting by his snail.

Surely he’d thought you’d call cursing and fussing by then. That you’d finally break up with him and wake up to what you were really doing to yourself.

But it was so much worse than he’d ever believed.

Because the next time he’d seen you had finally been in Mariejois. And he couldn’t wait any longer by then. He’d prepared to say what you wouldn’t and cut you loose.

And he’d known you wouldn’t handle it well. Tashigi had followed him to the courtyard, worrying as always. But Smoker had felt a rare dread in himself that morning.

Much like he did today.

You’d been using him to feel something. And he’d let you, until the day he couldn’t anymore.

It’d hurt like hell.

And it still hurt because he knew you’d learned nothing even as many times as he’d tried to show you.

You’d pour yourself into every goddamn other thing but actually saving yourself. Chiefly your career and your shitty taste in men, himself included.

You didn’t trust yourself to deserve better. You didn’t know your real worth. And now the absolute worst fucking candidate Smoker could ever think of had to have learned this about you too.

Smoker had done his damndest to make you take flight.

And all you’d done was double back right into the strings of the next man in waiting.

One that wasn’t a man at all, but a demon to be beaten back before he broke your wings entirely.

But did you want Doflamingo to lose when it came to you? That was a question Smoker still couldn’t answer either. Despite all his bluster, defending you so doggedly before his own crew.

All he could really do would be to try and wake you one more time.

And hope that this would finally be enough to be different somehow. That you would want to be free instead of just holding tighter to the chains you’d already made in your own mind.

The ones Doflamingo surely kept tightening once he had found them.

Hell itself couldn’t have dreamed of a worse combination than the two of you.

———————————

T⨂ BE

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

Author’s note: I’m pretty sure that in canon Law is the only person ever shown knowing of Rosinante’s devil fruit ability. For purposes of this story, I’m assuming some of the marines Rosi served with ended up also knowing. And Doflamingo dug up that information after his death, bothered by just how much else his brother may have been hiding from him. I didn’t want to spoil Doffy’s “are you or aren’t you a witch?” pool trick by posting this note at the beginning. 🫣

145 notes · View notes

imaginespazzi · 10 months ago

Text

Part 1: Don't Be A Stranger

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

But if (my) world was ending, you'd come over right?

(In which UCLA anon's roman empire became this writer's roman empire and we've finally reached the beginning)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff

Words: 8.4 K (other parts will be shorter....maybe)

TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Injuries, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Gonna keep this as short and sweet as possible but we've finally, finally gotten to the UCLA fic. A huge shout out to UCLA anon, because this is their master idea. Couple of things, I've never been to LA or UCLA and therefore some things are out of whack. The timeline is also a little out of whack but I swear I will try to keep it as consistent as possible. In the mean time, just ignore some of the inconsistencies pretty please. As always, feel free to let me know what's bad, what's good and what else you'd like to see. I hope y'all enjoy this first part and let's get another W today!

August 2021

where are you

i literally have to be at the airport in an hour paige where are you

dude

are you on your way?

you better be driving and that’s why you’re not answering

PAIGE

i’m sorry about last night i shouldn’t have said that

but you said a lot of shit too so call it even?

this isn’t funny where are you?

i have to leave in 15 mins

are you actually not coming?

wtf????

this is actually bullshit

get over yourself bueckers

wow

fuck you

just landed

thought you might like to know

sorry my plane didn’t crash i guess

September 2021

dude enough okay

can you just call me back??

i just wanna talk

i know you're mad i get it but i miss you

November 2021

hi i’mma be in dc over christmas

nvm

idk why i’m trying again

maybe i should block you

this is kinda pathetic of me what the fuck

December 2021

i thought i saw you today but idk

couldn’t have been you cause if it was

would you really not even say hi?

i’m done trying paige

merry christmas i guess

March 2022

i misz you

lyke a wot

love uuuuu pppppp

even if ur a bwtich

pkese pick up

ignore that

people drunk text exes apparently i drunk text you

wait

i don’t need to tell you that

you already ignore it all anyways

August 2022

i heard about the acl

i’m sorry

idk if it means anything, but if you wanna talk

nvm

***

September 2022

When the doorbell rings, on a quiet Thursday afternoon during a rare moment of alone time, Paige expects it to be a lot of people. One of her parents deciding that they actually weren’t going to leave her alone. Someone else in her family showing up out of the blue to provide comfort. Maybe one of her teammates popping up to keep her entertained. She even thinks it might be some random fan who got too invested and figured out the address for her air BnB. It’s the saddest testament to how broken they are, that the idea of it being Azzi Fudd standing outside her door, never once crosses her mind. But there she is, when Paige opens the door, dressed in ripped jean shorts and a light blue tank top, the girl that had been her best friend, and maybe a little bit more.

Silence stretches between them as Azzi fidgets with her hands and Paige continues to stoically stare at her. It’s been almost a year since they’ve seen each other, even longer since they’d last shared a happy smile. And you’d have to go back to before she’d told her about her future plans, to find the last time Azzi had properly looked Paige in the eyes.

“Hi,” Azzi says finally, mustering up a small smile. Paige doesn’t know if hearing that voice, soft and subdued but still so familiar, fixes a crack or breaks her heart even further. She wills herself to be polite in response, to match Azzi’s polite greeting with a greeting of her own. But there’s clear discord between her mouth and her head, because her words are harsh and hollowed.

“What are you doing here?”

Azzi swallows, smile disappearing as she immediately digs her fingernails into her palms and Paige feels the guilt settle into her stomach. It’s like the night before all over again. If she closes her eyes, Paige can still hear her voice loudly echoing in Azzi’s childhood bedroom. She can hear the angry words that she’d hurled at her best friend, each one like a well-aimed arrow piercing the other’s girl's heart and tearing into Paige’s own soul. Some would call what she’d done self-preservation. She’d call it her biggest mistake.

“I um-,” Azzi sucks in her bottom lip, “I was in the area and thought, maybe I’d check in.”

“How did you even know where I was?” Paige hates how cold and accusatory her voice sounds. It’s a version of herself she doesn’t quite know how to deal with, one that hasn’t ever appeared for anyone other than the girl in front of her, “I know I didn’t tell you.”

Any semblance of calm is gone from Azzi’s face, as she seems to realise that she’s not going to be getting any cordiality from her old friend.

“And we’re off to a great start,” she mutters under her breath before replying to Paige’s exact question, “no you didn’t. Your dad-”

“You talked to my dad?”

“Yeah. I mean you know Drew looks up to Jon and José so much and they still talk and stuff and he came over- Drew I mean- and then your dad was there and we just got to talking and you came up and yeah. He told me and well I live here, kinda, so I thought- well I thought maybe you’d like some company?”

As Azzi’s rambling explanation comes to an end, Paige doesn’t miss the tinge of hopefulness in her voice at the last bit. The younger girl shuffles her feet, as she stares at the blonde expectantly.

“I don’t-” Paige struggles to draw in a breath as the voices in her head argue, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Her words are met with silence as Azzi stares at her blankly.

“I- you,” she blinks rapidly, clearly at a loss for what to say at the blatant rejection, “I can’t come in?”

“It’s just- I’ve had a lot of people visit you know,” Paige bullshits, suddenly feeling very exhausted, “and my family were here a couple days and my friends are coming soon and-”

“And I’m neither of those things,” Azzi says, her tone low and breathy.

“That’s not what-”

“It is,” Azzi closes her eyes for a brief second, when she opens them, the flash of hurt in them feels like a dagger through Paige’s chest, “it is like that and it is what you meant and it’s- it’s fine.”

“Az-” Paige chokes out, feeling her lungs collapse when the other girl moves to leave, “please,” and she’s not even sure she’s asking for, but it’s not this. It’s never been this.

Azzi stops and when she turns back around, there’s a determined look on her face.

“I just-” she rubs her face, composing herself before focusing her eyes on Paige, “you’re the strongest person I know. And you’re going to come back from this, better than ever. I know it. The whole world knows it. Because you’re Paige Bueckers. You’re something else. You’re the hardest worker, you’re just- you’re the best.”

“You don’t-”

“Just- just let me finish okay and then, then I’ll go or whatever but Paige, you’re all of those things you know? Strong, brave, the best fucking player- but, it’s also okay if sometimes-, if sometimes you aren’t. It’s okay because this- this is hard, I know it is. So if sometimes you’re not strong or-, or brave- or not feeling like working hard- it’s okay. And if there are moments where you- where you want to give up, that’s okay too. It doesn’t make you- it doesn’t make you any less than what you are. It just makes you human, and it’s okay you know- to be human. It’s okay if- if you hurt and it’s okay if you’re not okay. It’s- it’s okay.”

The two girls stare at each other, eyes shining with tears, as Paige let’s Azzi’s words wash over her. She’s been told a lot of platitudes about her injury, from her coaches to her teammates to her family. And she knows she has plenty of people in her corner, who root for her and who genuinely do believe she’ll have the greatest comeback ever. But the motivational speeches get draining after a while and all she’s wanted to do for the last couple of weeks is wallow. Then she felt guilty about wallowing, that little voice in her head yelling at her to be productive and work on getting back to herself because that’s what everybody expected. Paige hadn’t even realised how badly she needed someone to give her permission to not be okay, not until the only person who’d ever known that part of her, had finally said the words she so desperately needed to hear.

The thing is, when she was younger, Paige used to keep everything bottled inside. She’d always been hyper aware of her privilege and her problems had always just seemed so insignificant in front of her parents’ or her friends. So she’d kept them to herself, trapping herself in a web of her own burdens that sometimes threatened to strangle her. And then she’d met a girl at a USA basketball camp when she was 15, a girl who had gently flicked her fingers and Paige’s walls had fallen like dominoes. She hadn’t even known she was drowning, until Azzi had shown up with a lifeboat.

“I just-,” Azzi breaks Paige out of her trance by breaking the eye contact between them, “I didn’t know if anybody had said that to you yet and I just- I wanted you to hear it.”

In the span of a minute, a thousand and one phrases take birth in Paige’s mind and then die on the tip of her tongue. She opens and closes her mouth, trying to express even one of the myriad of emotions that are swirling like a tornado in her brain. But nothing comes out except a litany of incomprehensible noises. And Azzi seems to find the wrong answer in the silence, giving the blonde a timid nod.

“Take care of yourself P,” her voice catches on the familiar nickname, as she shoots Paige a sad smile, before beginning to walk away. When Azzi chose UCLA, she’d lit Paige's heart on fire. So, Paige had drowned their friendship. And while all this time Azzi has struggled to breathe, Paige has burned but god, is she so fucking tired of it.

“Fuck, Azzi wait,” Paige curses, hobbling to catch up to the brunette, who stops with a sigh but doesn’t make a move to return. Stubborn as always, Paige thinks, continuing her way over. When she does catch up, she’s not fully sure what to say and so, “I uh- I’m out of milk.”

Azzi raises her eyebrows in question, crossing her arms protectively around her chest.

“I can’t drive,” Paige explains slowly, “or walk obviously.”

Realisation dawns on Azzi’s face, “you’re asking me to drive you to the grocery store?”

“I guess,” Paige shrugs, trying to be nonchalant.

“Seems like the kind of favour someone asks of their family, or their friends,” Azzi emphasises bitterly, never one to let go of an opportunity for sarcasm.

Paige flinches, “right, I kinda deserved that one.”

She gets a raised eyebrow in response that very much says “ya think?”

“I’m trying here,” she says quietly, and Azzi’s hard demeanour softens, “I’m raising a white flag Az, calling a truce or whatever but it kinda needs to go both ways.”

“What do you think me coming here was supposed to be?” the younger girl says exasperatedly, but she’s smiling again. It’s the third one Paige has gotten out of her today, and finally, she smiles back. They look a little foolish, standing in the apartment hallway, cheshire-cat-grinning at each other like idiots, but it feels like something has clicked into place again.

“I’ll go grab my wallet, you go heat up the car.”

“It’s like 110 degrees dude.”

“Bro shut up, you know what I mean,” Paige huffs and when it makes Azzi laugh, she feels like she’s floating. It’s not as if she hasn’t been happy in a year because won’t you look at that, her world did keep turning after that one decision. But this is different. She feels airy and light, like she could jump off a cliff and fly instead of fall.

“Well hurry up, I have things to do outside of just being your chauffeur.”

“Poor passenger princess, how the roles have reversed,” Paige mocks and it earns her an ever so familiar fond eye roll and for the first time in a year, she feels free.

***

When she gets downstairs, Azzi’s leaning against her car door, a pair of sunglasses shielding her eyes. The hot California sun shines brightly against her tan skin, and Paige’s heart stutters because fuck, Azzi is golden. She looks every bit reminiscent of the girl Paige still has memorised and yet, every bit the promise of a girl Paige wants to learn by heart.

“Nice car,” Paige smirks, alerting the younger girl of her presence.

“It does the job,” Azzi says, looking up with a smile of her own, opening the passenger door for Paige to get in, “not all of us are raking in NIL deals to get the big guns, but we make do.”

“Steph Curry brand ambassador say what now?” the blonde girl teases as she slides into the car. When she looks up, Azzi’s frozen in place, “what?”

“Nothing I just-” she’s wearing sunglasses, but Paige knows Azzi's trying to avert her gaze, “I’m kinda surprised you know that.”

It’s Paige’s turn to look away, their newfound comfort giving away to that old awkwardness, “I keep up with most basketball news.”

To Azzi’s credit she doesn’t push. Instead, she makes her way into the driver seat without another sound. She’s about to connect her phone to the aux but Paige beats her to it.

“Hey,” Azzi squeals, making grabby hands, “my car, my rules, my music.”

“Nuh-uh injury privileges,” Paige gloats, sticking out her tongue.

“That’s not a thing.”

“Is too.”

“Fine, we’ll listen to your crap music.”

“I resent that,” Paige retorts, as Drake blasts through the speakers. The sound of it makes Azzi groan, and she dramatically bangs her head against the steering wheel. Paige spends the rest of the car ride singing at the top of her lungs. Azzi spends the rest of the car ride alternating between shaking her head and joining in with the singing. It’s like they’re back in 2020 all over again, back before they found themselves in the whirlwind of life, back when they were just Paige and Azzi.

***

Their trip inside the grocery store takes less time than the ride to get there, even if Paige takes her time dilly-dallying in the dairy section, pretending she’s going to get anything other than just regular milk. She’s overly conscious of the fact that their time together might be coming to an end, that this time she might actually have to deal with saying goodbye. But she’s not ready to go back to missing Azzi just yet.

“Maybe you can show me your dorm,” she says quietly, once they're both back in the car, playing with the hem of her shirt. Beside her, Azzi draws in a sharp intake of breath, clearly not having expected Paige to want that of all things. In all honesty, the idea of stepping into the world that had stolen Azzi from her is not all that appealing to Paige but she wants to hold onto this moment just a little bit longer.

“You wanna see my dorm?”

“A chance to see how the non-blue blood peasants live? I’d never pass it up.”

“Non blue blood,” Azzi scoffs, "Ever heard of John Wooden?”

“I was talking about women’s basketball but yeah I have heard of him. I won the award last year. Over you,” Paige smirks, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Not everyone’s a phenom their freshman year,” Azzi retorts fondly, unable to mask the hint of pride in her voice.

“Well we’ll see this year-” Paige stops herself, cold seeping into her lungs, as she remembers why she’s in the stupid state of California in the first place. The lighthearted mood in the car goes tumbling out the window as her words hang like a dagger in the air.

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, trying to wrap that one syllable in comfort. She reaches out to touch the blonde’s shoulder but must think better of it because her hand hovers mid-air for a second, before she pulls it back. Paige is suddenly hyper aware of the fact they haven’t touched yet. It’s a reminder of the fact that whatever progress they’ve made today, there’s still so much they haven’t even begun to unpack.

“It’s fine,” Paige’s voice is steely, “just drive.”

Azzi opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, before simply nodding and starting the ignition. She’s clearly holding back and Paige doesn’t know how to feel about it. There’s a part of her that wants Azzi to push her to talk like she would before, but there's another part of her that knows this new rope they’re trying to string between them is fragile.

They ride in silence to Azzi’s apartment, both of them too caught up in their own thoughts to bother with music this time. As the UCLA campus nears, Paige can’t help but hate it just a little bit. She’s aware she’s being petty. Acting like Storrs, Connecticut is some hub of beauty is probably a stretch of the imagination for anyone but she’s determined to dislike this place out of principle.

“Hmm not too shabby but like where’s the fucking cows?” Paige jokes, as the car comes to a stop in front of Azzi’s apartment building. She steps out gingerly, pretending to inspect her surroundings, making tsk-tsk noises at the most random things.

“I’ve seen your apartment Bueckers, don’t even try,” Azzi retorts.

It shouldn’t surprise Paige to see one of Azzi’s teammates when they enter her living room. It’s just like UConn really in the sense that there’s always someone there when you walk in but something about seeing Charisma Osborne just chilling in Azzi’s space suddenly makes it more real that the younger girl is definitely a UCLA Bruin.

“Oh,” Charisma gives Paige a once-over, clearly not having expected to see her, “hi Paige.”

Paige waves, shuffling her weight on her crutches, unsure what to say. It’s not like she doesn’t know Charisma, they’ve literally won a gold medal together for USA basketball. She’s even met the girl a couple of times after and she likes her, she does. But her bitter brain is focused on the fact that this is one of those girls who had gotten Azzi as their teammate, one of the girls who got to see Azzi everyday. All things Paige had not gotten.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing company Az,” Charisma says pointedly, looking at Azzi and Paige bristles at the use of the nickname. She’s being all sorts of ridiculous but at least she’s self-aware of it.

“Last minute decisions,” Azzi replies airily. The two girls lock eyes and Paige can tell they’re having some sort of unspoken conversation and now the green-eyed envy monster is out in full force.

“I insisted on seeing her dorm,” she says finally, breaking into whatever staring competition the two UCLA guards are having.

“It’s not a problem,” Charisma reassures, standing up from her position on the couch, and coming over to give Paige a tentative hug, “I just didn’t know you were coming. But it’s good to see you, Paige.”

“Yeah,” Paige tries to muster up a proper smile as she leans in to return the hug but it comes out more like a grimace, “you too.”

“We’re gonna go chill in my room,” Azzi says, beckoning to one of the doors in the hallways and Paige obediently follows her, waving a half-hearted goodbye to Charisma. She’s secretly pleased to have Azzi back to herself.

The room is nothing out of the ordinary except it has Azzi all over it. She’s in the pink comforter that is thrown haphazardly over a clearly not made bed. She’s in the unicorn plushies laid delicately over a dark blue couch. She’s in the little flower stickers that outline the mirror on the far side of the room. There’s a wall dedicated solely to pictures and fairy lights on one side and Paige is immediately drawn to it. A familiar ache reverberates in her chest as her eyes flicker over the pictures of Azzi’s family. She’s missed them. Then there’s the photographs of Azzi in her UCLA uniform, her teammates surrounding her and Paige has to resist the dangerous urge to rip those off the wall. Be happy for her happiness, the logical part of her brain yells, not seeming to realise she’d left any chance of that in the dirt a year ago. As she tears her eyes away from those offending pictures, they land instead on a whole other set of photographs and she feels her heart catch in her throat.

It’s a set of three images of her and Azzi, taken at various moments. Paige brushes her thumb against the one of the two of them with their arms around each other at the Minnesota state fair. Azzi’s beaming at the camera and Paige is beaming at Azzi. They look so young, so naive, so happy.

“I’m on your wall,” Paige breathes out, turning to face her best friend, “Fuck, I’m on you wall.”

“Of course you are,” Azzi affirms, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world but she shuffles nervously, giving away the reality behind her stable demeanour.

“I never answered your texts. I didn’t call you back,” Paige lists quietly as the first tear falls from her eyes; she’s been holding them back all day, “and I’m on your fucking wall.”

Azzi looks away, unsure how to deal with the fact that apparently they’re no longer tip-toeing around the past. She doesn’t know how to tell the blonde that there had never really been a second thought about whether or not those photos were going up on the wall.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs finally, “you’re my best friend. You’re always gonna be my best friend. Ride or die right?”

“Ride or die,” Paige repeats in a whisper before she all but throws herself at Azzi, practically moulding herself into the younger girl’s body. Caught off guard, Azzi stiffens for a second, before relaxing into it. It’s late outside and the sun has set, but in this moment, the world shines the brightest it has in a year as two stubborn girls finally find their way home to each other.

***

That night, Azzi asks her tentatively if she wants to stay over and of course Paige agrees. Lying awake next to a familiar stranger, she lets herself finally remember the day things had first started unravelling.

November 2020

“You’ll probably get one of the upstairs apartments, so we probably won’t actually be living together which is good because can you imagine if I had to see your goofy ass 24/7?” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her forehead, as she leads Azzi into her room.

She’s too caught up in her excitement having Azzi at UConn, and planning what’ll happen next year, to notice that the girl in question isn’t participating at all in her enthusiasm. Paige has been waiting for what feels like a year (in reality it’s only been a few months) to finally have her best friend come visit. The minute the car had pulled up, she’d taken it upon herself to start her sales pitch all over again, missing the sympathetic smiles she’d gotten from the rest of the Fudd family as she pulled Azzi away to show her the glories of the campus.

“Did you see my assist to Christyn today?” Paige gloats, falling onto her bed with a smirk.

“It was pretty great,” Azzi concedes.

“It was fucking perfect thank you very much. I set her up perfectly, exactly how she likes it.”

“Right.”

“And then did you see how excited the team was for her? For everyone? Never gonna find a greater group of girls.”

“They seem wonderful P.”

Paige furrows her eyebrows as she catches Azzi still lingering by the door instead of joining her on the bed. The brunette fidgets with the sleeve of her sweater, chewing on her lips.

“Are you allergic to my bed?” Paige waits for some smartass response. When she doesn’t get one, she frowns, instincts going haywire, “Az, you good?”

“I- '' Azzi looks away, swallowing nervously, “I need to tell you something and I- I’m not sure how you’re gonna react.”

“You get a boyfriend or a girlfriend or something in the last few months that I don’t know about?” She says it light-heartedly enough, but the thought of it sends a sharp sting through Paige’s heart. In hindsight, she thinks maybe she could have dealt with it having been that.

“What? No. Just- just don’t- dont take it personally okay. Like you can be upset about it but- but don’t hold it against me yeah? My parents- they said- they said you’d get it. You’d be upset but you’d- you’d get it because you- you get me right?”

Paige’s chest hammers as she watches the younger girl draw in a deep breath, “you’re scaring the shit out of me right now.”

“I’mcommittingtoUCLA” Azzi says all in one breath, the words blending together.

She’s sure she’s heard it wrong. There’s no way. After all this time, after all their conversations, all the pitches, how hard she had worked, there was no way this was going to be the end to all of Paige’s efforts.

“What?” she whispers, crossing her fingers that she has in fact misheard.

When Azzi averts her eyes, she knows she hasn’t, “I’m committing to UCLA.”

The first time Paige and Azzi met was somewhat awkward, what with Azzi’s shyness and Paige being slightly overeager to make a new friend. When they’d become bus buddies, they’d progressed to being casual acquaintances who could small talk and share smiles. And then the flight back to Minnesota happened and everything had changed. Every moment after was filled with conversation or laughs or a comfortable silence. Until this one, where the sudden silence between them foreshadows an ominous future.

“Say something,” Azzi says finally, her voice shaking.

Paige stares at her for a second before, “you named your dog Stewie.”

“What?”

“You named your dog Stewie. After Breanna Stewart who played at UConn. It’s not-” Paige wracks her brain, hands flying animatedly “it’s not Meyers or something, after someone who played at fucking UCLA. You named your dog after a UConn great. How are you going to take him to UCLA with you?”

Azzi stares at her, clearly not having expected that level of questioning of all things. Who could blame her when Paige herself feels a little insane.

“This is a joke right? You’re fucking with me? Ha ha ha very funny,” she claps deliriously, “hilarious prank seriously, like hats off you’ve outdone yourself but enough okay? Say sike right fucking now.”

Azzi makes a strangled noise, “it’s not a joke Paige. That’s- that’s my decision.”

“Then change it,” Paige yells, catapulting off the bed.

“Paige-”

“Have you told UCLA yet?”

“I wanted to tell my family and you first.”

“Oh wow, how kind of you. How fucking generous of you to do that Azzi,” Paige bites back sarcastically and Azzi flinches.

In a flash, Paige’s expression goes from angry to desperate, “you still have time to change your mind . Please just- just think about it again okay? You still have so much time and you know what, stay here for a couple more days. Spend time with the team, with the coaches, with me and you’ll see-. UCLA just sounds nice you know? California, the sun, I get it, of course it’s tempting. But just- just stay here okay? And you’ll see this is where you belong,” she leaves the, with me, unsaid.

“Paige,” Azzi’s voice cracks. She takes a step toward her and then pauses. It’s the first time in a long time that Azzi’s hesitated when it comes to Paige. It won’t be the last. And when she looks at Paige through her long eyelashes, tears threatening to fall from her dark brown eyes, Paige knows she’s lost.

“No,” she’s pacing now, chest heaving up and down in a combination of frustration, anger and misery, “this is not fucking happening. We’re not doing this. I made you a whole recruitment video. Did you watch it? Do you know how long it took me to make it? Has the last year been a fucking joke to you?”

“Of course not-”

“Don’t even. Because clearly- clearly it has. Must’ve been hilarious watching me beg and plead with you when you already fucking knew you were going to committ somewhere else.”

“That’s not fair,” Azzi’s voice rises at the accusation, “I had no idea where I was going until a couple of weeks ago. You can’t seriously think that low of me.”

“Not fair? You know what’s not fair, Azzi? We’ve been talking about playing together, about finally being on the same team, the same fucking state, for years. What’s not fair is you throwing all of that away on a whim.”

“I’m not committing to UCLA on a whim. This is my whole future we’re talking about. You don’t even know how much thought I’ve put into it. And I’m choosing what’s best for me. You can’t hold that against me Paige. You can’t.”

They stand on opposite sides of the room, taking in harsh staggered breaths and glaring at each other. The tension in the room is electric as the string connecting them frays. Paige and Azzi bicker, they don’t argue. Or at least, that’s how it used to be.

“Az?” their stare down is broken by a knock on the door as Katie Fudd lets herself in. Immediately, as she stares between her daughter and the girl who’d become just as important, Katie knows what has happened, “we’re going back to the air BnB, are you staying here?”

The answer should be obvious, like it used to be. Of course she would stay here. It was meant to be a no-brainer. But before Azzi can say that, Paige intervenes and the string snaps.

“She’s going with you,” the blonde says firmly, before turning her back. She won’t let Azzi see the tears, she won’t. For her part, the brunette stares at Paige’s back silently for a couple of seconds, before a mask of determination slips on.

“Fine. If that’s what you fucking want,” Azzi sneers before brushing past her mom, eager to get away and hide her own tears.

When Paige turns back around, Katie is already looking at her. The older woman walks the length of the room and pulls the younger girl into a hug that she readily melts into. Paige sniffles as Azzi’s mom soothingly rubs her back.

“We’re driving back tomorrow morning,” Katie whispers quietly into Paige’s hair, “I know you’re mad sweetheart but come say goodbye okay?”

And she does. She shows up with only half an hour or so remaining before Azzi leaves, but Paige shows up. They hug stiffly, exchanging maybe a sentence or two but in that moment it’s enough. They’ll call later when Azzi gets home and it’ll be awkward for a little bit but they’ll break through. They’ll figure out a way to go on without having to talk about the “big thing”. They’ll hold on as long as they can, until they can’t anymore.

***

September 2022

After the night Paige stays over at Azzi’s apartment, they're attached at the hip for the next few weeks, just like old times. They’ve fallen into a routine of sorts. Azzi shows up without fail every day after practice to pick Paige up from her rehab, and then the rest of the younger girl’s time is Paige’s. The first time she’d seen the brunette leaning casually against her car, Paige had had to stop herself from jumping into her arms. She’d played it as nonchalant as possible, joking about Azzi being stalker, but inside, she could feel it again, the dangerously familiar tap of this is all I’ll ever need.

On days Paige doesn’t have rehab, Azzi still shows up right on time on her doorstep with a board game or food or something. It’s gotten to the point where every time the doorbell rings, Paige opens it expecting Azzi. The couple times it’s not, she tries and fails to hide the disappointment on her face. It earns her an eye roll from the delivery guy but it’s worth it for the laugh it elicits from Azzi when she tells her the story. They fall back together as if they’d never fallen apart. And what’s more terrifying than finding out that she’d never truly gotten over old Azzi, is realising how easy it would be to fall in love with new Azzi.

When Caroline, Nika and Piath come to visit the weekend after, all three of them can immediately tell that something's changed. Their teammate seems lighter, as if she’s finally found a sense of calm. But their incessant prodding and raised eyebrows are only met with shrugs from a tight-lipped Paige. It isn’t until Azzi calls, and Nika snatches the phone out of Paige’s hands, gasping at the callerID, that they finally figure out why their point guard has a new kick in her step.

“You should invite her out with us tonight,” Caroline is the first to speak, giving Paige an encouraging smile.

“Carol,” Nika hisses, “we can’t just invite the enemy.”

“She’s not the enemy,” Paige defends immediately, “we don’t even have a rivalry with UCLA.”

Nika scoffs indignantly, “of course she is. She picked a different school over us. Over UConn! That’s weird. Who even does that?”

“Lots of people do,” Caroline, who occasionally texts Azzi (albeit she’s kept that somewhat of a secret), supplies helpfully, shrugging when the Croatian glares at her.

Piath nudges Paige when she notices the other girl has gone quiet, “ignore Nika. She doesn’t mean it, you know that. If you wanna invite her, invite her.”

And she does, she wants to so badly. It’s insane really because it hasn’t even been a full day since they’d last seen each other but Paige swears something inside her has been missing since. There’s something awfully terrifying about letting Azzi back into the UConn version of her world, the world that the younger girl had once rejected. Still, if they’re going to try this again, she supposes sooner or later, it’ll have to happen.

“Put her on speaker,” Nika orders when Paige grabs her phone back from her.

“Nika,” Caroline, younger only by age, warns, pulling the other girl away, “we’re supposed to be cheering her up, not making life harder.”

Azzi answers on the third ring, her voice teasing “miss me already?”

Yes, Paige thinks, sometimes I think I miss you even when you’re right here next to me, sometimes I think I’ll miss you forever. But she doesn’t say any of that.

“Not a chance,” she scoffs instead, “besides you called me first.”

“Butt dial.”

“Mmmhmm I’m sure.”

“Shut up,” Azzi laughs and Paige is glad her teammates aren’t here to see the goofy grin that appears on her face at the sound of it, “I just wanted to see if we were doing something tonight?”

“Yeah- umm- you remember I told you about the girls coming down this weekend. They- uh- they wanted to go out tonight and uh- you could come along?”

There’s a pause on the other end and Paige knows Azzi’s going through the same thought process as her.

“I don’t wanna intrude on your time with your team P-”

“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Paige cuts in immediately and although she figured her teammates were definitely eavesdropping, Nika cursing about her being “pussywhipped” followed by in-sync shushing from Piath and Caroline, gives them away.

On the other end of the line, Azzi’s quiet again, “it’s okay P, you go have fun with your friends. We don’t have to spend every night together. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

What she doesn’t say is that maybe they need to learn how to live like that again, how to live apart again. Paige is almost done with the LA part of her rehab, something both of them are still in denial about. It’s only a matter of time before they return back to their two separate worlds and neither of them are sure they’ve managed to repair their friendship enough to not slip back into their foolishness again.

“But I wanna see you tonight,” Paige whines, her tone teetering on the edge of sounding like a desperate girlfriend, “please.”

“Paige-”

“Pleaseeeeeee. I’m literally injured and begging Az, it’d be mean to say no.”

“What does your injury even have to do with any of this?” Azzi sighs exasperatedly, “but yeah okay fine calm down Bueckers. Send me an address, I’ll be there.”

“You don’t wanna come pregame here?”

“Dude, let's not push it, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah okay see you,” Paige pauses, “hey Az?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really happy you’re coming tonight.”

“I’m really happy you’re happy P.”

***

Azzi Fudd is a menace. See, people often get fooled by her soft-spoken nature and shy demeanour, but Paige has been around her long enough to know the truth. In the beginning it was the witty quips the younger girl always had ready whenever they were having some ridiculous argument. After that, it was the direct pranks that wreaked havoc on Paige’s life. But tonight, in Paige’s opinion, tonight is Azzi’s worst offence. She had to have done it on purpose, had to have known the sheer effect it would have on Paige to see her dressed like that. The red criss-cross tank top fits her like a mould and the way her ripped jeans shorts cling to her hips leaves little to the imagination. Her diamond belly button piercing shines against her skin, taunting Paige. She wants to touch, she wants to feel, she wants to do all the unspeakable things in her mind but she’s forced to just watch.

What she hates most though, is that everybody else is watching too. Since Azzi’s walked into the club, Paige has had to fight the urge to strangle every stranger who had given her best friend an appraising once-over. Some of them let their eyes linger long enough to give her time to plot out the perfect murder strategy (it’s the only way she can stop herself from actually committing a crime tonight). And, as Azzi dances with Caroline, hips swaying to the beat and holding the other girl a little closely, Paige has the irrational urge to hit sweet, kind Caroline of all people.

The thing is, Azzi’s been a little too attached to Caroline since she got here in Paige’s opinion. And she gets it. Piath, bless her soul, is trying but has always been a little awkward around new people. Nika is definitely not trying, loyally holding onto a grudge on behalf of Paige. Which leaves Caroline, who’s already familiar territory and the younger girl has grasped onto her like a lifeline. But enough is enough Paige decides, as she slips out of her seat with a determined look. Smoothly, she cuts right in between Caroline and Azzi.

“Nika’s a little wasted and I don’t want to deal with,” it’s a blatant lie but Paige knows appealing to Caroline’s more motherly instincts will get her what she wants. She gets a raised eyebrow in return, her teammate clearly catching her ruse because Nika looks visibly fine. But it works anyway and Paige gets Azzi to herself. She reaches for the other girl’s hand, twirling her just so she can hear that stupid silly laugh, and then pulling her back so she’s facing Paige.

“You having fun?”

“Always have fun with you P,” Azzi replies. She’s clearly tipsy but there’s no hint of insincerity in her voice. It makes Paige’s breath hitch.

“Yeah?” she whispers, taking a step closer, “more than with Carol?”

Azzi giggles, “more than anyone.”

The song in the club changes and as the crowd adjusts to it, someone jostles Azzi and immediately Paige grabs at her hips to steady her. As she finds her balance, Azzi’s giggles subside, realising just how close she is to the blonde now. They’re stuck in slow motion as the world dances around them. The combination of adrenaline and alcohol pumping through her veins is what convinces Paige to test the limits. One hand still squeezing at Azzi’s bare waist, revelling in finally getting to touch, she brings up her thumb to trace around Azzi’s lips. The younger girl gulps, but when she doesn’t try to move away, confidence pulses through Paige. Her heart is beating frantically out of her chest, years and years of want and need that she’d shoved as far away as possible, desperately fighting to get to the surface.

Pushing herself closer, so their chests are now pressed to each other and Azzi’s hands have no choice but to latch onto her biceps, Paige places a delicate, teasing kiss to the corner of Azzi’s lips. She wishes she could record the whine it elicits and listen to it on loop for hours. Smirking, she moves to place another one on the other side, this time pressing her lips a little harder, a little longer. Azzi’s eyes are closed shut, hands gripping onto Paige so tightly, she knows there’ll be a mark on her biceps tomorrow. She cups Azzi’s face with both hands now, her own eyes shutting involuntarily, as she finally, finally brushes their lips together.

This time, the strangled noise that leaves Azzi’s throat, is one Paige wishes she could forget as the younger girl rips herself away from Paige, the force of it creating almost a foot of distance between them. It doesn’t take long for the familiar sting of rejection to make itself home in her heart. Azzi’s eyes are brimming with tears as she manically shakes her head. Without a word, she rushes through the crowd, making a beeline for the exit, leaving Paige confused and craving for another taste.

***

It takes Paige a second to gather her thoughts before following the brunette. She ignores the confused glances from her teammates, making some bullshit excuse about fresh air as she fights her way outside. When she gets there, Azzi’s leaning against the wall, eyes closed as she takes in long deep breaths.

“That’s not usually how girls react when I try to kiss them,” Paige says after a second, trying to make light of the situation, even if her heart is heavy with anxiety.

It’s the wrong thing to say because Azzi scoffs, “you kiss a lot of girls don’t you.”

“Yeah and most of them kiss me back,” Paige bites back.

She’s taken aback by the fire in the darker-skinned girl’s eyes as Azzi finally opens them, heaving herself off the wall.

“I won’t be one of your groupies Paige. I won’t be one of your desperate one night stands. I won’t be just some other hookup. I won’t!”

Frankly she’s a little offended Azzi would even think that of her. She’s aware of her reputation. In fact she’d probably fed into it a little bit, exaggerating her escapades to Azzi on the phone her freshman year, when they had been on the verge of combusing and she’d been desperate to get a rise out of the younger girl. Last year though, last year was different. But Azzi doesn’t know that.

“I don’t want you to be any of that,” she replies feebly.

“Then what, do you want me to be?” Azzi’s voice rises with each syllable.

Paige stutters, the words getting stuck in her throat. The truth is she wants Azzi to be everything. The truth is, Azzi already is everything. Except there’s too much between them and she just can’t say it. They stand in silence until Azzi finally breaks it.

“I think these last few weeks of summer might have been the best of my life,” she says miserably, “and that might be the worst thing ever you know? Because it’s not real. You’re gonna go back to your world and you’ll- you’ll stop replying to my texts and you’ll stop- you’ll stop calling me and I- I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“That’s an awful lot of assumptions you’re making about me,” Paige is on defensive mode now, feeling a fight brewing.

“Because that’s what happened. Go back through your fucking phone Paige. Look at all the times I tried. And all the times you never did. You just- you cut me out Paige.”

“That’s not fair. You chose fucking UCLA. Over me.”

“No,” Azzi corrects immediately, anger seeping into her tone, “I chose UCLA over UConn. You made it about yourself.”

Paige swallows back a bitter response in favour of trying to prevent a full-fledged argument, “okay, okay let’s not- let’s not do this okay. It’ll be better this time- I- I won’t ignore your calls or texts or you okay? Just- can we just go back inside please?”

“That’s the thing,” Azzi’s anger is gone, replaced by a sad wistful smile, “I don’t know if I believe that you will,” a single tear rolls down her cheek, “I- I don’t fully trust you and you haven’t fully forgiven me. So where do we go from here?”

It’s a lie what they say about the truth setting you free, Paige thinks as Azzi’s words squeeze at her heart, because all it’s done is unleash shackles of despair that holds them both hostage. It had been easy the last couple of weeks, to pretend the last year had never happened. It had been easy for Paige to pretend that she was over what happened, to ignore the part of her brain that still felt so utterly betrayed.

“Azzi, what are you saying? You don’t- you don’t wanna be friends?” Paige feels nauseous even saying it.

“No I-” Azzi chews at her bottom lip, “I’m saying this- us- we’re too fragile to complicate even more. I barely- fuck- Paige, I barely survived losing my best friend. I don’t think I could survive losing something more.”

The worst thing about it all, is that it makes sense. And really, Paige doesn’t know what she’d expected to happen if Azzi hadn’t pulled away when she did. They’d kiss, maybe give in and do more and then what? Shake hands and walk away? Or make false promises that would ultimately lead to resentment? No, Years and years of something deserved better than either of those masochistic endings. It makes sense, it does but it doesn’t mean Paige has to like it.

In front of her, all the fight evaporates from Azzi’s body, as the younger girl leans back against the brick wall of the club, sliding down and pulling her knees to her chest. She looks every bit as miserable as Paige feels and all the blonde wants to do is wipe away the stress lines creasing against the younger girl’s beautiful phase. She moves to sit down next to her best friend, shuffling so their shoulders are pressed together and intertwines their fingers together. A sigh of relief escapes her when Azzi doesn’t immediately pull away. Instead, she squeezes their hands tighter, as if she’s scared that if she lets go, Paige will disappear.

“You didn’t lose me you know,” Paige says softly after a second, nudging Azzi’s shoulder when the other girl lets out a noise of protest, “I know, I know it feels like you did. It felt like that to me too except- every time something good or bad happened to me, I heard your voice or- or maybe I just really wanted too. We got lost a little bit but I didn’t- I didn’t lose you and you didn’t lose me. There’s a difference. I don’t think we could ever lose each other like that. Not really.”

When Azzi turns to look at her, the golden glow of the street lights illuminate the emotions in her eyes. She gives Paige a soft smile, “well Bueckers, if basketball doesn’t work out, maybe you have a future in poetry.”

“I could do whatever I wanted,” except what I want to do the most.

It doesn’t take long for the Uber Azzi’s already called to start pulling up and that familiar ache of longing creeps into Paige’s spine. She knows tonight isn’t their final goodbye; they still have a couple more days. But those days will be spent ignoring and pretending, unlike tonight and the firm grip they have on reality. They rise off of the cold pavement together, dusting themselves off. It takes a second of awkward glances before they’re surging into each other’s arms, squeezing each other so tightly that it’s hard to breathe. Paige wills herself not to cry, hiding her face in the crook of Azzi’s neck.

“We’ll be okay,” she whispers, unsure if it’s more for her benefit or Azzi’s.

The unwanted beep of a car is the only reason they reluctantly pull away, hurriedly wiping away unshed tears, they pretend the other can’t see. Azzi musters up a brave smile, before slowly moving away and it takes everything in Paige not to crumble and begs her to stay. Azzi’s halfway to the car when she turns back and it feels like Paige can breathe again. The brunette’s face is conflicted for a second before turning determined, as she starts walking back up.

“Az-”

Paige’s confusion is stifled as Azzi fists her shirt, pulling her into a searing kiss. It’s desperate and needy and it’s only a few seconds before the dark-haired girl is pulling away again, but it sets Paige’s entire world off balance.

“I just-” Azzi’s breathing is rapid and uneven, “I’ve wanted to do that since I was fifteen and- just- fuck- I just-,” she blinks up at Paige, “I hate- I hate leaving things unfinished and for fucks sake if you don’t call me back this time Bueckers- just- don’t be a stranger.”

Paige doesn’t get time to answer, she doesn’t think she could even if she did, because Azzi scurries away almost immediately. She stops when she gets to the car, turning back to give Paige one final look, a look that will haunt Paige forever, before getting into the backseat. As Paige watches the back of Azzi’s uber gets smaller and smaller, her tongue darts across her lips as she tries to memorise the faintest taste of Azzi’s strawberry-flavoured lipstick. And she knows, she’s so utterly and completely and terribly fucked.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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shanastoryteller · 1 year ago

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Happy Birthday grandma! How about BFF WWX LXC and NMJ? Or female!MXY? Your choice🌻🌻🌻🌻🎉🎉🎉🎉

Ps. Made it?!?!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

Lan Xichen arrives to his brother and Xuanyu in the middle of an argument.

They’re surrounded by corpses, Xue Yang inexplicably among them, and the missing Xiao Xingchen is standing there huddled against Song Lan’s side, looking strangely small, while a blind girl stands on his other side.

Sizhui and Jingyi are staying several steps back in an attempt not to get caught in the couple’s argument.

He almost regrets leaving A-Yao behind with the rest of the disciples. It had made sense at the time, with the low but present chance that they’d run into trouble, but now he wishes he could be the one dealing with their siblings instead of him.

“-not just going to – XICHEN-GE! GET DOWN HERE!”

The disciples, who’d demanded to come along, cringe away and even send him sympathetic looks.

She only calls him Xichen-ge when she wants something. He’s pretty sure A-Yao taught her that.

He descends, jumping off his sword, and frowning when he gets a closer look at her. She has wounds around her waist and shoulder even though they seemed to have stopped bleeding and there’s a variety of colorful bruises on the bits of skin he can see on her, which means there’s even more hiding beneath her robes. “You’re injured.”

“It’s nothing,” she says dismissively. Wangji’s eyebrow twitches. “I want Song Lan, Xiao Xingchen, and A-Qing to accompany us to Koi Tower.”

He assumes A-Qing is the blind girl. “Ah.”

“It’s not proper,” Wangji says, enough irritation bleeding though that this is clearly not the first time he’s said that.

She sends him a scathing look. “We can’t send them back to Cloud Recesses, Lan Qiren will eat them alive, and we can’t leave them alone. Look at them! Look around! They need help.”

“Ah, Madame Lan,” Song Lan says tentatively, “you’ve already done-”

“Shut up,” she says and his mouth snaps shut. Lan Xichen stares. He’s encountered Song Lan many times and has never seen him act like this. “Where are you going to go? What are you going to do? You deserve rest, all three of you, and while I would hardly call the Jin restful, it’s at least better than having to watch you back on the road.” She frowns. “Also, what’s with Madame Lan? I told you to call me Xuanyu. If you fight an army of the undead together, you don’t have to use titles. It’s a rule, or something.”

Wangji’s eyes narrow and Song Lan smiles at Xuanyu before he catches sight of Wangji’s expression and then his lips thin out into a straight line.

Lan Xichen can already feel a headache building.

She’s only been missing for a few hours. How did any of this even happen?

If he wants to find out, then he’s going to have to give in to her. She won’t tell him anything otherwise, he assumes, because A-Yao definitely wouldn’t. Besides, he has no reason to deny her. She is Madame Lan and Lady Jin and she’s more than entitled to add people to their traveling party and to invite wandering cultivators to Koi Tower.

“The rest of our party is nearby,” he says finally. “We’re happy for you to join us.”

His brother glares at him, but what does he expect him to do? She’s Wangji's wife.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #awayinthewind #untamed

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cursedwerewolf · 1 year ago

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Bears in Trees, Starting Fires // Maggie Stiefvater, The Raven Cycle

do you ever listen to a song that fits a character dynamic almost too well?

[ID below the cut]

Image 1: Lyrics from Starting Fires by Bears in Trees reading: I keep lighting fires and I keep punching walls / I keep holding my breath and I keep poking holes

Image 2: A quote from The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater reading: Both of them stopped breathing. Gansey knew he’d gone too far. It was too far, too late, too much. Adam shoved open the door. “Fuck you, Gansey. Fuck you,” he said, voice low and furious. Gansey closed his eyes

Image 3: Lyrics reading: I keep smashing glasses and I keep falling down / I lay in the pieces and I keep rolling around

Image 4: A quote reading: With a sudden twist, he swept all of the figurines from the Queen Anne table. Foxes in breeches and terriers seized in midflight. They all plunged to the floor with a satisfying and diseased smash. He raised his voice. “World’s ending, folks!”

Image 5: Lyrics reading: I'll sleep on my sofa and you can sleep in my bed / I'll never feel whole but you're as close as I'll get

Image 6: A quote reading: Gansey said immediately, “You’re leaving with me.” “It will only make it worse when I come back,” Adam told him. “I mean for good. Move into Monmouth. Enough’s enough.”

Image 7: Lyrics reading: You can be the husband, I can be your wife / We can pretend we can cope with real life

Image 8: A quote reading: Gansey jerked his arm out of Adam’s grasp. Again his eyes darted down the hall and back. “You should look at yourself in the mirror.” Adam didn’t. “We do this, we do it as equals,” Adam said.

Image 9: Lyrics reading: White picket fences and stable jobs / Three little faces and a couple of dogs

Image 10: A quote reading: Out loud, Gansey said, “Fine, then. We’d find another good school. We play the game. We make up a new life for you.” Adam reached past him to find a rag and began to wipe between each greasy finger. “I would have to find jobs, too. This didn’t happen overnight. Do you know how long it took me to find these?”

Image 11: Lyrics reading: You can be the husband, I can be your wife / We can pretend we'll get over our strife

Image 12: A quote reading: Thank God we’re not fighting thank God we’re not fighting thank God we’re not fighting how can I keep it from happening again—

Image 13: Lyrics reading: Having conversations we’ve never had before / You’ll be drinking whisky as I walk out the door

Image 14: This was a conversation they’d had before, and entire days of arguments were replayed in the few moments of quiet. The words had been said often enough that they didn’t need to be said again.

Image 15: Lyrics reading: I walk to the seafront and jump in fully clothed (Ohh) / And I keep wandering aimless, oh shit, I don't even know (Ohh)

Image 16: A quote reading: Gansey couldn’t shake the image of Adam by the side of the interstate, walking, walking, walking. Knowing he was forgetting what he was doing, but unable to stop. Unable to remember Gansey’s number, even when people did stop to help.

Image 17: Lyrics reading: I keep starting fires and I keep poking holes / I keep holding my breath 'cause I am nothing at all

Image 18 : A quote reading: Adam inhaled. Gansey didn’t. He didn’t breathe at all. He just stood, frozen, his hands gripped around his king’s helmet. He told himself to breathe in, and he did. He told himself to breathe out, and he did. He didn’t move, though, and he didn’t speak

#i don't think i'll ever truly be able to represent the dots i'm connecting between this song and adansey but i did my best #as always with my web weaves questions are very welcome i put a lot of thought into every aspect even if it only makes sense to me <3 #trc #the raven cycle #adam parrish #richard gansey #adansey #bears in trees #noah's stuff #long post #web weaving

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suckerfordylansstuff · 4 months ago

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New Journey (S.H.) Chapter 5 Season 4

Pairing: Steve Harrington x henderson!reader

Summary: Back to Hawkins for spring break. Y/n believed it would just be a quiet time to cherish with her loved ones, but one day in and another mess had already began.

Warnings: cursing

Notes: This chapter is slightly longer than the rest because I realized this season is going to be like... idk 15 chapters by the time I finish, so... yeah. Getting closer to the action so excited for you to see that. Enjoy this chapter and stay safe!💕

Chapter 4 << Masterlist >> Chapter 6

You arrived at Hawkins High quickly, rushing to get inside and find the rest. When you spotted Steve and the kids, you felt relief to see them alive. But that feeling was quickly replaced by dread as Steve was over Max who was lying on the floor.

“It was here. Right here.” the redhead explained to you after she got off the ground and calmed herself down. She was looking forward to a wall in front of you, searching for something that clearly wasn’t there.

“A grandfather clock?” Nancy asked.

“It was so real. And then, when I got closer, suddenly I just… I woke up.”

“It was like she was in a trance or something. Exactly what Eddie said happened to Chrissy.” Dustin’s face was filled with worry, even though he wanted to mask it. Hearing his words made you all imagine the worst about your dear friend.

“Fred and Chrissy, they both came to Miss Kelley for help. Uh, they both were having headaches, bad headaches that wouldn’t go away. And then… then the nightmares. Trouble sleeping. They’d wake up in a cold sweat. And then they started seeing things. Bad things. From their pasts. And these visions, they just… they kept on getting worse and worse, until eventually… everything ended.” Max explained to you and the girls who had missed their part of the plan.

“Vecna’s curse.” Robin stated.

“Chrissy’s headaches started a week ago. Fred’s six days ago. I’ve been having them for five days. I don’t know how long I have.” you immediately opened your mouth to argue but Max shot her hand up, stopping you before moving on “All I know is that, for Fred and Chrissy, they both died less than 24 hours after their first vision. And I just saw that goddamn clock, so… looks like I’m gonna die tomorrow.”

Before any of you could say anything, clanging began echoing through the halls. You tensed up and looked at Steve to see his next move. His eyes fell on you and without hesitation took the responsibility in his shoulders.

“Stay here.” he told all of you before picking up a lamp that was next to him, leaving the room and you behind. You knew that he was never scared to confront anything that came your way, but he also knew that none of you ever listened to him, so it was a matter of time before he heard footsteps following him.

You were right behind him, ready to assist him in any way possible. You focused on the noises, the sound of footsteps coming closer and closer to you. Steve lifted his arms and the lamp, ready to strike when he saw the intruder round the corner you were in. However, a yelp fell from your mouth the moment you saw the face before you was a familiar one. Luckily, Steve’s reflexes were quick so he stopped his movement before he could hit Lucas, who started screaming along with the rest of you.

“It’s me!” the poor boy exclaimed, his voice heavy as he panted.

“Lucas?” Nancy asked out of pure confusion.

“It’s me!”

“Jesus. What’s wrong with you, Sinclair?” Steve yelled at the kid.

“I’m sorry.” Lucas exhaled deeply, trying to find his breath.

“I could’ve taken you out with this lamp.” your boyfriend cried out, clearly shaken up over this.

“Lucas, what are you doing here?” you asked, trying to find some answers to this whole mess. Why is he here? Did he follow you?

“I’m sorry, guys. Sorry. I was… I was biking for eight miles. Give me a second.” he held up his finger to you, as he took deep breaths in and out “Shit. We’ve got a code red.”

“What?” Steve asked, the lamp now on the floor next to him.

“Dustin.” Lucas walked up to your brother “I’ve been with Jason, Patrick, and Andy, and they’ve gone like totally off the rails. They’re trying to capture Eddie, and they think you know where he is. You’re in terrible danger.” your eyes opened wide at his words.

“All right, yeah, that- that definitely sucks, but we’ve got bigger problems than Jason right now.” Dustin looked over at Max, Lucas quickly following his eyes. You watched as the boy’s face fell and the realization hit him the moment he saw the girl he loved. Something was wrong and it was far bigger than Jason.

After last night’s crazy adventure, you returned back to safety but this time you spent the night at the Wheeler’s basement. It was kind of weird being here without Mike. You kept trying to reach out to the rest in California, but the line was always busy. Dustin blamed Joyce’s new job.

So, since you couldn’t find anyone else to help, you figured it was up to you to solve this mystery. Just like old times you thought.

Nancy and Robin had talked with you early in the morning about what they were planning on doing. You nodded as you listened to the plan “Your only job right now is to inform the rest about what we found. Easy peasy.” and sure, you would have agreed with Nancy’s statement if you weren’t dealing with three boys who share three brain cells.

“Okay, be honest. Uh… You guys understand any of this?”

“No.”

“Pretty straightforward.”

You were showing Steve, Lucas and Dustin, the newspaper article you had found at the library, and your brother, being the group’s, know-it-all decided to showcase his smarts to the rest who clearly weren’t having it, especially your boyfriend. He was pacing back and forth as he read the papers in his hands, while you were sat in the armchair, the kids on the sofa next to you.

“Oh, straightforward, really?” Steve asked Dustin impatiently.

“Well, what’s confusing to you? So far, everyone Vecna has cursed has died, except for this old Victor Creel dude Nancy found. He’s the only known survivor. If anyone knows how to beat this curse, it’s him.” Dustin explained as you sat and listened to their conversation, waiting for a moment to let you explain your findings.

“Yeah, that’s assuming he was cursed, Henderson, which we don’t even know. How can Vecna have existed back in the ‘50s? It doesn’t even make sense.” Steve said, mostly to himself as he scratched his head, trying to make sense of what you told him.

“As far as we know, Eleven didn’t create the Upside Down. She opened a gate to it. The Upside Down has probably been around for thousands of years. Millions. I wouldn’t be surprised if it predated the dinosaurs.”

“Dinosaurs? Okay, what are we-” Steve was ready to argue with him when Lucas’s voice cut him off.

“Okay, okay, but if a gate didn’t exist in the ‘50s, how did Vecna get through?”

“Oh, and how’s he getting through now?” Steve pointed at Lucas, continuing on the question.

“And why now?”

“And why then? Just pops out in the ‘50s, kills one family, and he’s like, ‘Eh, I’m good’. And poof, he just disappears. Just… gone? Only to return 30 years later and start killing some random teens? No, I don’t buy it. Have you guys thought of anything?” your eyes landed on Steve when you realized he was asking you something, but you were quick to turn down his hopes over an explanation.

“Not anything that you haven’t said right now. I mean, it makes sense that this is connected to the Upside Down, you can’t explain it any other way. But how is it connected? How he came into our world now and then is something we haven’t solved. I just- I don’t know…” you sighed and shrugged your shoulders, accepting defeat.

“See, Henderson, it’s 3 to 1. Straightforward, my ass. You know, honestly, a little humility every now and then, it wouldn’t hurt you.” your eyes followed Steve who moved to sit on the armchair opposite to you, pointing his finger at Dustin.

“Sorry.” he said, but you could tell he didn’t mean it.

Silence filled you for a moment before Dustin’s interest picked up again when his eyes fell on Max “Any idea what she’s writing?” you and the rest followed his eyes and watched the said girl, hunched over the desk in the basement, writing on papers without ever stopping “Did she sleep?”

“I mean… would you?” Lucas asked him.

Just then the door at the top of the stairs opened, revealing Nancy and Robin who had just returned after perfecting the plan you had come up with.

“Okay, so… We have a plan.” Nancy announced, passing to you the 2 folders she had on her hands. After checking out their work, you handed it to the rest of the group.

“Thanks to Nancy’s newspaper minions, we are now rock-star psychology students at the University of Notre Dame.” Robin started explaining enthusiastically. She was leaning on the staircase while Nancy sat on a stool next to her.

“I’m now Ruth.”

“And I’m Rose.” Nancy and Robin told you one by one.

“Ruth?” Steve questioned as he looked over one of the folders.

“Nice GPA.” Dustin started which made Nancy smile.

“Thanks. So, we called Pennhurst Asylum, told them we’d like to speak with Victor Creel for a thesis we’re co-writing on paranoid schizophrenics-”

“To which they said no.” Robin cut in, her words making you scoff.

“Can’t imagine why.”

“But we landed a 3 o’clock with the director.” Nancy informed you.

“Now all we have to do is charm him and convince him to let us talk to Victor.” Robin continued the plan.

“And then maybe we can rid Max of this curse.” your friend’s eyes fell on Max’s figure.

“Yeah, about that? We’ve been doing our Victor Creel homework, and, uh… we got some questions.”

“Lots of questions.” Lucas agreed with Steve’s statement, to which Nancy and Robin could only nod their heads to.

“So do we. Hopefully, Victor has the answers.”

“Wait, wait, wait a second.” Steve said immediately after Nancy stopped talking. Confusion had filled his face as he pointed between the two of you “Uh… Where’s ours?” he held up one of the folder’s, chuckling as if he missed a vital piece of information.

“Steve. We’re not going.” you explained to him as a matter of fact.

And with this simple sentence, chaos erupted. You were now following behind Steve, who was following Nancy to her room to get prepared for the plan, arguing about his place in the group.

“You guys are outta your mind if you think I’m babysitting again.” Steve’s voice was loud as you stepped inside Nancy’s room.

“We need to keep them safe. What don’t you understand about that?” you argued back, your hands on your hips. Nancy was ignoring the situation as she started searching her closet.

“I know, but why does it always have to be me?” his body was now facing you, throwing his hands around with exaggeration.

Suddenly Robin came through, which pulled your attention from the arguing “Oh my God, you have a Tom Cruise poster. You have a Tom Cruise poster.” her smile was sly and aimed at Nancy who immediately got flustered.

“That’s old. It’s just. Can you please not touch anything?” you shook your head, removing yourself from that conversation, and returned to the one that mattered to you.

“Steve, what is the problem? Please, just say what you’re thinking for once.” you pleaded him, and after a moment of stuttering he pulled his thoughts together.

“I just- I can’t- I can’t do anything here to actually help. Do you feel like you’re helping?”

“Max is in danger, Steve. There is no way she’s staying here alone without an adult to help her. You don’t think that’s important?” you looked up at him. You knew you sounded like a mother scolding her child, but when he’s acting like a kid not getting his way, your behavior was called for.

“No, of course I do, but I do kind of want to get out into the field just once. You know maybe I can truly help with the asylum director. Maybe, like, turn on my charm.”

“Not the kind of charm we need.” Nancy interrupted you, which made Steve turn his head to her, a frown on his face.

“Ouch.”

“No, I just… I did a little digging last night, and it turns out this Dr. Hatch is a distinguished fellow of the American Psychiatric Association and a Harvard visiting scholar, okay? This is a lifelong student of the world, and if we’re gonna win him over, we’re gonna have to convince that him we are too. That like him, we are true academic scholars.”

“Holy shit. There’s a little ballerina in here.” Robin was once again in her own little world, making Steve scoff.

“Academic scholar? She’s giving you an academic scholar vibe? Yeah.” he said sarcastically making Nancy shrug her shoulders.

“Well, Y/n refused to join so we didn’t really have a choice.”

“You would have gone without me?” Steve whined at you.

“Did you miss the part where I said no?”

Before you could continue disagreeing, Nancy took your attention by holding up a pink dress she had pulled out of her closet “But it doesn’t matter because anyone will look the part with this…” the silence made Robin look up and stop her snooping when she realized the dress was meant for her.

“Oh, please, tell me that you’re joking?”

Steve had never felt more defeated as he sat on the couch, squished between Dustin and Lucas, trying to find something to focus on except for Max who was sitting right opposite of them, still writing.

“I know you guys are staring at me.”

“What? Sorry?”

“You said you needed something?”

“Just hanging out.”

“Yeah.”

You all told her at once, grabbing anything nearby to act as if she didn’t catch you staring at her. You busied yourself with a yo-yo that was lying on the floor.

“How do you think your eyes boring into the back of my head is protecting me from Vecna, I don’t know.” you could see from the corner of your eye that Max was now out of her sacred chair and was walking towards you, but you were still focused on the very tangled yo-yo on your hands “You can look at me now.”

You let out a breath, letting the yo-yo fall from your hands back on the floor and lifting your head to watch her from your seat on the armchair.

“For you. For you. For you. For you, and, um, you.” you frowned when she began handing each of you letters “Oh, and, um, give these to Mike, El, and Will. If you can ever get a hold of them again.” she handed the rest to Lucas. You stole a glance at the guys and began opening the letter when Max’s voice stopped you “Hey what are you doing? No, don’t. That’s not for now. Don’t open it now.”

You lifted your hands up as if you surrendered to her demands when Dustin spoke up, asking the very thing you were all thinking “Don’t. Okay. I’m sorry. What is this?”

“It’s, um… It’s a fail-safe. For after… You know if things don’t work out.” your mouth fell open after hearing her words, your defense, or better denial, walls lifted up.

“What? Max, no.” you shook your head.

“Things are gonna work out.” Lucas tried to reassure her as well, but you quickly realized that this wasn’t what she was looking for.

“No! No, I don’t need you to reassure me right now and tell me it’s all gonna work out, because people have been telling me that my entire life and it’s almost never true. I mean, of course this asshole curses me. Should’ve seen that one coming.”

You teared up at her words, because even if you didn’t want to believe it, even if you knew all of you would do anything in your power to help her and keep her safe, the Upside Down was cruel, never showing mercy. You feared that her words were true and her fate was sealed, but till anything happened you were okay with being in denial. Just for a moment.

Max’s gaze traveled along the basement, finally landing on one of the radios on the table. She grabbed it and turned to ask Dustin a question “If we go to East Hawkins, will this reach Pennhurst?”

“Of course. Yeah.”

“Wait, why are we talking about East Hawkins?” you waited for an answer to come after Steve’s question, but instead of words, Max responded with a look on her face that made you incredibly anxious “No. No. No!”

“Max, we’re not going anywhere.” you stood up, trying to stop the kids from getting ready, but before you knew it you were running after Max who had walked out the basement door and headed straight for Steve’s car.

“Max! Max. Seriously. Seriously, we’re not joking, okay? I’m not driving you anywhere.” Steve’s tone was firm, but Max’s was firmer.

“If you two think I’m going to spend what is likely the last day of my life in the armpit that is Mike Wheeler’s basement, then you’re out of your minds. So, either take me where I need to go or you’re gonna have to tie me down, which is technically kidnapping of a minor. And if I live to see another day, Steve, Y/N, I swear to God, I will prosecute.” she failed to open the car door, which made her even more frustrated “Open the door.”

“Uh, no.” Steve was assertive. You, not so much.

“I know a good lawyer.” Max glared at you. She knew you were the easy one to crack, especially when deep down you knew she was right.

“Open the car.” you told Steve, making him whip his head to stare at you.

“Y/n?”

“She scares me.” you explained and nodded towards the car, silently telling him to open it. He looked into your eyes for a second before sighing and doing as he was told.

“Henderson, that super walkie of yours better reach Pennhurst.” you got inside after he unlocked the car and placed yourself in the passenger’s seat “And you’re wondering why I wanted to go on team Pennhurst. If I’m gonna be bossed around, I would prefer it not be kids doing it.” Steve was mumbling under his breath, his words winning a chuckle out of you.

“Drive.” Max demanded.

“Fine!”

The first stop you made was to her and her mom’s trailer. It was easy to get there now since all the cop cars, ambulances, and reporters had disappeared. You waited longer than you would have liked but when you were ready to go search for her, she appeared as if out of thin air, instructing you to start the car without any explanation as to what had happened or where you were now heading.

She just kept giving you the directions as you went along your way. By the time you had realized where she was taking you, you didn’t know if it was the right choice to come here, but if this was what she felt she needed, then it was the correct one.

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up just sitting here.”

Just because it was the right choice didn’t mean it was easy for any of you. You couldn’t even imagine how Max was feeling.

“Yeah, me too. It’s been long enough.” Steve agreed with you, already taking off along with you to check on her.

“Please, just give her some time.” Lucas told you, but you wouldn’t listen, worry taking control over your body.

“I have, all right, Sinclair? I’m calling it. She wants to get a lawyer, she can.” Steve answered for the both of you.

As you walked up the mill, you began calling out for her “Max? Sweetheart, is everything okay?”

“Time to giddy up, Max, yeah?” you crouched before Max, Steve’s body a little behind you. He stood there waiting for a response from the redhead, but all he got was a gasp and a cry for help coming out of your mouth.

Vecna had Max.

That’s all you could think about. Panic filled you as you and Steve tried to snap her out of the trance he had put her in. Watching Max’s still body and her blank eyes made your insides do flips.

Steve eventually calls out for the kids to come and help. After seeing that shaking your friend’s body is unhelpful, you tell Dustin to go and quickly call Nancy and Robin, to see if they have found anything useful.

It wasn’t long before your brother returned, carrying something in his arms. He let the stuff fall to the ground, in front of Max. It was then that you realized he had brought you Max’s Walkman and some of her music.

“What is this?” Lucas questioned, unable to guess how this would help at all.

“Her song. What’s her favorite song?” Dustin asked him, his voice raised.

“Why? Why?”

“Robin said if- if she listens- It’s too much to explain right now. What’s her favorite song?” Dustin was yelling at this point, making your brain go blank.

“It’s here. It’s right here! I got it!” luckily Lucas found the tape, and passed it to Steve, who put it in her Walkman. You placed the headphones on her head and signaled for Dustin to hit play.

You waited for something to happen but still tried calling out to her. However, when her body began lifting up in the air, you all lost your voices. You stood up, your eyes never leaving her levitating body. You yelled out her name again and again, desperately trying to wake her up.

After feeling like you were screaming for an eternity, Max’s body surrendered to gravity and fell to the ground, quickly coming out of the trance scared and panicked. Lucas took her into his arms to calm her down.

“Hey, Dustin, this is Eddie the Banished. You there? Dustin, can you hear me? Dustin?”

Your eyes fluttered open when a voice interrupted your slumber. You lifted your head up, trying to focus on the voice. You were sleeping uncomfortably on one of the armchairs, while Steve was sleeping even more uncomfortably on the floor next to you, his back supported by the armchair.

It wasn't hard to let sleep take over you after the eventful day you had yesterday, but the sleep felt short, so you were cursing the person who was right now interrupting your one moment of calm.

“Earth to Dustin.” you looked around the room to locate the noise and when you realized it was coming out of the walkie-talkie, you rushed forward to answer Eddie, careful to not knock Steve’s head.

“Yeah, Eddie, it’s Y/n.” your voice was harsh, so you slightly coughed to get it back to normal.

“The other Henderson! Hey. Um, I’m gonna need a food delivery, like, really soon, unless you want me going out into the world.” Eddie told you but you shook your head at his words.

“No. No, no, no. Don’t do that. Stay there, and we’ll come as fast as we can.” you heard a groan from your right and you looked over to see Nancy waking up due to your talking. You gave her a quick smile before focusing back on Eddie’s voice.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Listen, um… can you pick me up a six-pack? I know, it’s stupid as shit, drinking right now, but uh… cold beer would really calm my jangled nerves.”

You opened your mouth to agree with his request, but Nancy spoke up, catching your attention “Hey. Where’s Max?” your head whipped around to look at the couch Max was supposed to be sleeping on, finding it empty.

“Sure, um… I have to go…” you turned the radio off and shook your brother’s body.

“Dustin!” the boy just groaned “Wake up.”

“What?” Dustin asked, his whole body jerking him awake. In the process, his head rolled back and hit the TV making him groan again. You rolled your eyes, Nancy taking the detective role.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on Max watch?”

“Yep. Yep, yep, yep. Sorry.” Dustin rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to wake up.

“Okay, well- Then where is she?” you questioned.

“She’s right there.” Dustin answered quickly, for a moment thinking you were dumb for not seeing that Max was right there, but his eyes widened when he saw the makeshift bed empty, realizing he had screwed up “A second ago. I swear, I just dozed off for…” he checked his watched and cringed “… an hour.”

“Shit.” you exclaimed and got up to look for Max. Nancy followed behind you. Your first thought was to get out of the basement and search the entire house. Luckily you didn’t have to get more stressed, because when you entered the kitchen you saw that Max was as safe and sound as she could be at the Wheeler’s residence, sitting with Holly at the kitchen table, drawing.

“Morning, girls. Everything okay?” Karen, Nancy’s mom, asked you. She had the sweetest smile on her face. You nodded your head at her question even though it was a lie.

“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s okay.” Nancy answered her mother. Dustin was now with you after exiting the basement, looking at the breakfast Karen had prepared.

“I think it’s so sweet that you guys are sticking together like this.” the woman told you, but your attention was focused on Max who had just noticed you.

“Could try sticking together at a different house for a change.” you ignored Mr. Wheeler’s snide comment and headed over to the table, sitting opposite Max and next to Nancy.

“Hey.” the girl said after removing the headphones from her ears.

“Hi. You okay?” you asked with a soft voice.

“Just couldn’t sleep. People kept blasting music in my ears for some reason.” you both chuckled a little at her joke “But Holly let me borrow some of her crayons. We’ve been having fun, right, Holly?” the little girl hummed but was clearly not paying a lot of attention to the three of you, focusing on her own toy.

“Is this… what you saw last night?” Nancy pointed at the red drawings filling the wooden table.

“I mean, it’s supposed to be. I thought it’d be easier to draw it out than to explain it, but… not so much.”

“Is that?” Nancy couldn’t finish the question, just took the drawing in her hands. You leaned over to take a look, your eyes widening when you realized who she had drawn.

“It was like they were on display or something.” the girl could not shake the memory from her mind, seeing Chrissy and Fred’s bodies like this was unforgettable “And then there was this red fog everywhere. It was like a dream. A nightmare.” Max explained, her eyes almost distant.

“Do you think it was on purpose? Trying to scare you?” you asked her.

“With Billy? Yeah. But when I made it here… I dunno, something was different. He seemed surprised, almost.” you took a glance to your left and saw Dustin sit next to you, his plate filled with pancakes “Like he didn’t want me there.”

“Maybe you infiltrated his mind. He invaded your mind, right? Is it that big of a leap to suggest you somehow wound up in his? Like Freddie Krueger’s boiler room.” Dustin suggested and Holly’s head lifted up, his words catching her attention.

“Freddie Krueger?” the small girl questioned.

“He’s a super burned-up dude with razors for fingers. And he kills you in your dreams.” Dustin told her like it was not a big deal to say something like that to a girl.

“Dustin! Seriously?” Nancy told your brother who, after taking a look at your scolding face, realized that what he had said was wrong.

“Sorry. It’s a movie. It’s not real.” he said to Holly and quickly got back into the matter at hand “Just… think about it. What if you somehow unlocked a backdoor to Vecna’s world? Like, maybe the answer we’re looking for is…” he took one of the drawings in his hands “…somewhere in this incredibly vague drawing. God, we need Will.”

“Yeah, no shit. But I tried them all this morning and it’s the same usual busy signal.” Max complained.

Dustin placed down the paper he had grabbed and your eyes landed on it while the rest talked. Something about it felt familiar to you, and when you realized how, a gasp fell from your lips.

“Nancy?” the girl hummed at the mention of her name “Doesn’t this look like…” your finger pointed at the sketch. Nancy grabbed the paper when she saw it.

“Is this a window?” she asked Max, who nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Stained glass with roses.” you told Nancy, the gears already turning in her head.

“Yeah. See? I’m not so terrible after all.” Max said.

“Yeah, well, it helps that we’ve seen it before.” Nancy began aligning the papers to make out the image you had in your heads. She took one of the markers from the table and lined out the outlines of the house that had formed from the drawings.

“It’s pieces of a house.” Max said in realization.

“Not just any house. It’s Victor Creel’s house.” you looked at them, your words widening their eyes.

You stole a glance at Nancy, before you both got up from your seats.

“Where are you going?” Dustin asked Nancy, his mouth full of pancakes.

“Waking the others.” Nancy answered him.

You made your way back to the basement, your first stop being Steve.

“Get up. Get up. Get up.” you shook his shoulder. A groan left his lips.

“Just five more minutes.” he tried to sway your hand away, but you continued to shake him.

“Now.”

He recognized the seriousness in your voice so he opened his eyes, even if the light hurt them “Hey, what’s the matter?”

“We have a lead, so we need to go. Now!”

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jarofstyles · 2 years ago

Text

Reaper

surprise! we have a new story we'd like to share with you. It's a bit different than our other stories, but as you know we love to put our spin on classic tropes. This reminds us of our roots of fic writing-- please read the warnings for every part as this story contains some toxic behavior and many red flags from both of the characters, but it's all for the sake of entertainment. it's going to be a darker fic so we aren't offended if it isn't your cup of tea! just thought we would spice things up for those who have been asking :)

Check out our Patreon for exclusive writing and early access!

warnings: y/n has a stalker, angst, toxic behaviors, gang violence and activities, mentions of guns and murder, age gap (6 years y/n 21, h 27)

wc: 6.7k

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He was going to kill her.

She probably should have told him the second she started noticing something was off, but after three months of taking different routes home and keeping busy by being out with her friends, she thought she had escaped its escalation.

“Harry, someone’s been in my room.” Y/N breathed into the phone, “I know it wasn’t my ma, she’s working a double today, I left it out on purpose and it’s gone!“

There was too much for Harry to unpack in that sentence. He was wondering whether it was even worth it to question her when she was in a shaken state, she already had trouble using her words as it was.

“Pack a bag, I’ll be there in 15.” His tone was flat despite the worry that had filled his entire being.

Harry had been best friends with Y/N’s older brother Sterling since they were both prospects for the Devil’s Keepers. Being in a biker club is not something Harry expected a guy like Sterling to get into. The scrawny kid with a friendly approachable face, but that man had a punch that could knock teeth out— and it has. On multiple occasions.

Sterling went nomad earlier this year, hopped on his bike, and took off leaving Harry with very simple instructions:

“Look after my girls, yeah?”

It seemed that Sterling forgot who his sister was.

Worry and anger radiated off of him like heat on a car hood in the middle of summer. He knew damn well his stance said not to fuck with him as he stalked up her front porch, opening the front door to find her standing in front of him.

“I don’t see a bag.”

His tone was clipped. Harry wasn’t a man of many words to begin with. He loved the open road, his bike, the leather cut with the Devil’s Keepers logo on the back and his patches, and his mom- but words? Words weren’t something he loved. People talked too damn much to say nothing at all.

Someone had been inside her house, someone had been watching her. Bunny. Little Bunny, Y/N to most but Bunny to him and the rest of the club. He was tasked with keeping her safe- the whole club was, but him especially- and she had been messed with.

“Explain.” His arms crossed, the inked skin stretching and catching her eye. As intimidating as he may be, he was attractive as all hell. Distractingly so.

“They were right here,” Y/N walked to her desk, tapping the spot with her fingernail. Of course, it was empty now, but she’d left her panties on her desk for a reason. “I left a pair of panties on my desk and they’re gone.” She knew it was a bold move, but she wanted to leave something a potential creepy stalker would actually be interested in. Y/N didn’t think that they’d actually take them. She’d done it to prove herself wrong, she thought she had been imagining things.

“Don’t make that face, Harry, listen—“ The girl sighed, “things have been moving around my room for a few months or so now, but this is proof! Someone’s been in here.” Y/N didn’t want to admit that she had been dealing with a stalker for the past 3 months. She logically knew she should have told him sooner, but it didn’t feel real until now. She had been handling it just fine on her own.

Y/N swallowed thickly as she saw his demeanor change, still not able to read him after all these years. She’d never been one to miss a change in his usually expressionless face, but she’d never seen him make this face before.

“And now would probably be a good time to tell you that I also think whoever took them has also been following me around… and please spare me the speech on how I should have told you. I was doing fine on my own and now I’m telling you because I need help.”

His face was tight. Jaw clenched, eyes a dark, cloudy green as she could see his displeasure. Harry was not happy at all. In fact, he was more pissed than she had remembered seeing him.

This wasn’t good.

“Months?” He grit out. “This has been going on for months?” He felt the rage rising in him. Both from her not telling him and the fact someone would dare try to break into her space. Follow her. Stalk her.

Harry had promised to take care of her and had told her to call him whenever something happened. Of course, her stubborn pain in the ass self didn’t. And now he was fuming, looking at an empty spot where a perverted, deranged stalker had snatched her panties from.

How did they get in? His boots were loud against the hardwood as he messed with the window, moving the lock back and forth- only to find it broken.

He closed his eyes, his back to her as he took a deep breath to try and even his temper out. This wasn’t safe. At all.

“Pack the bag.” He snapped. “Now. You aren’t staying here.”

“And where will I be staying then?” She asked, letting out a breathy laugh. “I’m sure whoever this is won’t have a problem finding me again so what difference will it make?”

Truth be told, Y/N didn’t want to leave her house. She felt safe here even after realizing that there was someone who had been breaking in regularly. It had comforting memories, her favorite bed sheets to hold her a night, and her mother among other things that would actually help her cope with her new reality.

“Easy. You’re staying with me.” Harry spoke the words as if he couldn’t believe she’d ask such a stupid question. He was the only one who’d keep her safe, from now on he wasn’t letting her out of his sight.

“With you?” She tried her best not to act excited. Y/N had always liked Harry the most out of all the members of the Devil’s Keepers… a little too much. He was her brother's best friend, but he was also a strong, sexy, intimidating, and powerful man. A strong, sexy intimidating, and powerful man who had always shown her the patience others failed to.

“That’s what I said. Keep up.” He grunted, going into her closer and grabbing the Mickey Mouse duffel bag he knew she had gotten at Disney world and taken on every trip with her. It was tossed on the bed as he gave her an expectant look.

His place was safer. Far safer than here. Her mother was a nurse, she worked nights when she was sleeping and he knew that would be the time that the stalker would try and hurt her. That usually was the goal. To take or harm. He wouldn’t let her find out.

He had top-of-the-line security systems in place, his own personal armory, and the rage in his gut that had been brewing since the initial phone call to keep her safe. There was nowhere safer than with him. She should know that.

“Move. Or you’ll be forced to wear the same shit every day. I’ve got shit to do.”

It didn’t take long for her duffel bag to be stuffed to the brim with all the essentials. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be staying, but she had a feeling Harry appreciated not having to make any back-and-forth trips.

With one final scan of the room, she stopped in her tracks in an attempt to remember anything she had forgotten.

Her journal.

She couldn’t believe she had almost left it there. That journal knew everything about her, and could potentially create even more trouble if her stalker somehow managed to find it and read it. Thankfully, she’d kept it hidden in a secret compartment her brother had built into her bedside table.

Harry watched as she carefully placed the book into the pocket of the duffle. He was glad she’d thought to bring it, lord knows he wasn’t good with feelings. Judging by how quiet she was now, she’d have quite a few to write about.

The ride to his house was quicker than usual. For once, he wasn’t in the mood for a ride, instead opting to get the girl into a comfortable and safe environment as soon as possible.

The door was unlocked with the code and key, something he would show her later. Bunny walked in first, her duffel bag falling to the ground with a ‘splat’ as she began her scan of the place.

Harry never let people come here. It was his safe space, literally. Photos of the people he considered family hung up and his record player and records in the corner, his bedroom tucked away as the open concept floor plan left everything else to the eye.

He picked up the duffel with a sigh, wordlessly hauling it into his room as he heard her pad around looking at things. Harry wasn’t one that willingly shared a lot and Bunny was a nosy girl, so he knew she was going to take every opportunity to analyze something else about him.

“Bathroom.” He pointed to the door beside the bedroom. “Bedroom.” He looked around. “You have eyes.” For the rest. His kitchen wasn’t huge but it was decent for the apartment, and it had dual ovens. For what reason? He didn’t know. But he knew she would eat it up.

“Don’t touch my guns. Don’t care about the rest.”

“Okay cool. Are you hungry?” Y/N spoke up, immediately going to his fridge to see what he had for her to work with. “I’m starving, please tell me you have something good in here please…” Y/N hummed a tune to herself as she rummaged through the shelves in search of inspiration.

“These peppers are about to go bad, you know?” She pulled them out of the fridge along with some other vegetables and then went to check his freezer. “Wow. Okay, so you invite me over and you have no food?” She teased, expecting a reaction out of him. If there was one thing about Y/N, she loved to push his buttons.

Looking through his cupboards she managed to find some rice and pasta— ultimately picking pasta because it was quicker and she was starving. It wasn’t long before she had a vegetable sauce going, the apartment smelled incredible, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder in to see what she was up to.

“Here,” Y/N took a spoon and picked up a bit of the sauce, bringing it up to his lips for him to try. “Tell me if you think it’s missing something.”

Harry wasn’t quite sure what to think.

In the small time he had gone to the bedroom, showered, and changed his sheets, she had come up with some sort of something for them to eat.

It wasn’t something that he expected. He had his small menu of meals that he kept in rotation and a lot of it was instant ready-made stuff. Takeout was his favorite so he was going to get pizza or some shit, but Bunny had been standing at his stove like a little housewife. Like she owned the place.

He gave her a look, one of apprehension as he opened his mouth to try it. It seemed… oddly intimate for them. Sure, they had been around each other for years but he always kept a distance.

The sauce though? He was very pleasantly surprised. “Looks like culinary school’s done you good.” He said simply, nodding in approval before moving away.

He had been too close to her. Having her here was probably a bad idea, but it was the only option besides the clubhouse. God knew he wasn’t taking her there. As much as he loved it, it was pure debauchery as soon as the sun fell and the moon came up.

“I’ll take you to the shop tomorrow.” He sat down on the couch, spreading his legs as he cracked his knuckles. His body usually was a bit sore from riding and… other activities of the not-so-legal variety, but the tenseness he usually held had increased tenfold.

Someone was stalking her. Someone he had no clue who they were, but damned if he didn’t find out soon.

Y/N was used to him being tense. His jaw was perpetually clenched, brooding, carrying himself like he was ready to throw down at any given moment. Most people thought Harry was abrasive and hard to know. Hell if she hadn’t known his heart, she probably would have thought the same about him.

From what Sterling had shared with her, Harry had a rough upbringing. In and out of Foster care, homelessness, the biker club. There wasn’t much softness in his life aside from his mother he had reconnected with, whom he sent a large chunk of money every month to support.

Y/N didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable in his own home, so she opted to give him space as she plated a meal for him and brought it to the living room for him to eat while he worked on god knows what.

“Here. There is more in the kitchen if you need—" She kept her voice calm and low, seeing the man was on edge, likely thinking about the stalker issue she had brought on to him. Y/N knew he would help, and knew the guy would be dead the minute they found him. It brought her great comfort, to a point where she probably was desensitized to the idea of someone actually hurting her.

He’d never let that happen. Club rules.

“Hold on.” He grumbled, pointing to the other side of the couch. “You will tell me about this shit as soon as you’re done. No more hiding. I need to know every little thing.” He steeled her with a look that made sure she was well aware of how serious he was.

It was his job, his promise to protect her. In a way, he had failed. While he wasn’t sure what he could have done to prevent it, if he had known earlier he could have gotten the club to dig into shit. Stood watch all night. She was family.

He’d always been fond of her. Perhaps a little too fond in the recent year or two, so he kept a distance to ensure that never wriggled out of control. That only seemed to make it worse.

Harry wasn’t a good guy. He really wasn’t. There were reasons his road name was Reaper and that’s what people knew him by. Bunny didn’t need to get caught up in the shit he was involved in. It’s why he and her brother had kept her as far as possible from the club life as they could.

“Well, I’m not exactly sure what else there is to tell.” Y/N answered him with a shrug, “I’ve told you what I know, but I’m sure you have questions I could answer.” She explained further, knowing this wasn’t a time to play games or joke around with him.

“I started noticing it in February. I transferred to culinary school and I was always getting home late, I thought it was just my tired brain telling me I was misplacing things.” Y/N was trying her best to remember the events as they were, but again, she wasn’t scared so she wasn’t registering it. She just had a bad feeling.

“And when I visited Hannah back at my old campus, she noticed that there was a guy following us one night a few weeks after… but I figured it was just some drunk guy headed to the dorms. So every day after, I took a different route home just in case.” Y/N had the basic knowledge of this stuff, her brother had drilled it in her to stay alert and what to do in case something did start happening.

“I’ve seen the same car around the area around the same time I was coming home, but everyone around here drives the same fucking black truck so that could be a reach. The only thing is the plates changed and that wouldn’t be my first thought but it had a massive scratch all up the front of the hood so it sort of made it obvious.”

He stayed silent, listening to her explanation. Each tidbit of information was filed away for further use.

What bothered him was how casual she was. Did she not realize how dangerous it was? Sure, she had been scared when she called him but this was serious. Did she not think to call him?

“You should have called me the minute you realized someone was following you.” His tone was cold as he looked over her. She had no scratches or bruises yet but what if she hadn’t told him and stayed at home? He could obviously get into the house very easily at any time he wanted.

“I don’t think you’re understanding how serious it is. We could have fixed it- I could have handled it months ago when you noticed someone messing with your shit. When you noticed someone was following you.” He was obviously angry.

“You know to call me. That’s what your brother said to do. I know you think you’re all grown up now, whatever the fuck, but you are still vulnerable. We told you to always come to us.” He was a little hurt, too. Did she not trust him?

“I know that— I just told you I didn’t think it was an issue till now. I didn’t want to have to get you involved, what if I was just being paranoid? You guys have better shit to do than follow me around like a lost puppy.” Y/N had been made to think she was incapable her whole life and frankly, hearing those words from Harry stung.

“Fix it now. What difference does it make? I’m here anyway, should be fine shouldn’t I?” Her attitude was masking her true feelings. “Can't go back in time can I, Harry? Don’t talk to me as if I wanted this to happen, how the fuck is this my fault now?”

She was definitely taking it the wrong way. His tone had struck a nerve and she was too proud and too embarrassed to care if she was being irrational. She wanted him to think she was strong. She wanted him to believe she didn’t need the protection, that she could handle things on her own. That she wasn’t 17 anymore and that she was an equal.

“What would you prefer for me to do huh? Call you every time something feels off? I’m not the boy who cried wolf, this shit happens to women all the time. I’m always on edge about these things— I know what could happen. Do you really think I’m being careless? Please, be serious.” She rolled her eyes.

His teeth grit, jaw clenched as she spoke to him with an attitude. He was angry, far too angry to deal with this shit. Her attitude would get her nowhere with him.

His palm itched, wanting to spank the hell out of her ass for speaking to him like that and taking her safety for granted. Where the hell had this come from? Why would she do this?

“I’m not saying you wanted or asked for that shit. Don’t put words in my mouth.” He warned, his glare cold. “I’d rather you waste my time and be safe than not call me and end up in a Fuckin’ ditch. Are you kidding me?”

He stood up, crossing his arms as he looked down at her. She was too witty and too smart for this shit. “Guys who stalk like that? They aren’t there to be a friend. They either want to take you or take you out. I’m fuckin’ serious. I’ve lived in this fucked up world long enough to know and deal with some of the worst.” Bunny had a clue about the fact the club definitely didn’t do the most moral things, but still. She hadn’t expected him to say it.

“So yeah, I’d rather get annoyed at somethin being nothing than have you in trouble. Fucks sake.” He rolled his head back. He needed to get away before he hurt her feelings.

“Going out for a smoke. Don’t follow me.”

She didn’t have to be told twice, staying silent while she cleared their plates from dinner and packed up the rest. Y/N was fuming. She didn’t like being talked down to, especially by Harry. Telling her off for not saying something sooner, making her feel like she did something wrong.

She was just living her life! This happened to happen, sure she should have called, but what could she do about it now? Not that she was expecting him to be all lovey dovey with her or baby her, but he’d always been more understanding with her. Why was it so different now?

Y/N took herself from the kitchen to the bathroom, aiming to shower away all the icky feelings left in her body from the conversation. She hated it. The scolding hot water wasn’t enough to soothe her, the tears flowing down her face as quickly as the water down her back.

She’d messed something up again. Made it difficult for them, again. Harry would surely think she was stupid now if he hadn’t before.

---

He could pinpoint why it bothered him so much as he stood on the balcony.

He cared. He cared far too much, and the idea of something happening to her sent an absolute panic into his bloodstream.

Bunny was special to him. She was someone he grew up protecting and someone he always wanted to make sure felt at ease. He couldn’t always figure out why, but she had always been a bit delicate. That wasn’t a bad thing at all.

He admired her softer traits. The sweetness of her voice and the softness of her skin. She looked like a dream and smelled like one too. It’s why he wouldn’t let himself get too close to her. She was a good one. He wasn’t. His life would chew her up and spit her out.

But what choice did he have now? Someone was stalking her and he hadn’t been there to protect her. Maybe he would have noticed if he hadn’t been so weak in his convictions. Nervous that if he spent more than his check-up times with her, that she would wiggle her way into the soft spot she had already been chipping into his icy heart.

He groaned quietly, sending a text to the President of the club, Viper. Letting him know he had a situation to speak to him about. He would know what to do. There weren’t many people Harry respected, but his brothers in the club? He would lay down his life for.

By the time Y/N had finished up with her shower, Harry was back inside sitting on his place on the couch typing away at his phone trying to find answers and solutions for the situation that had been causing him to feel more than he’d felt in years.

It was strange. He hasn’t been this worked up in… well, ever. Not in a violent way at least.

Seeing her walk out in her comfy clothes, hair still damp, face clear of makeup, eyes puffy, Harry felt the pang in his heart again. Had he pushed too far? Had he said too much? He was simply expressing his feelings, he didn’t think she would take his words to heart, she had always been good at understanding where he was coming from.

Y/N put the kettle on in silence, avoiding walking to the couch and facing him again. Not when she was so obviously vulnerable.

He sighed to himself as he felt a little antsy. Foot tapping against the floor he tried to figure out what to do.

He wasn’t… a comforting person. He was the last person a lot of people saw before meeting Hades. But christ, he wanted to make her comfortable. He just wasn’t good at it.

He stood up from the couch and approached her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter.

“You’re going to the clubhouse with me in the mornin’.” He said quietly. It was something she had always wanted to do, but he always refused.

It wasn’t too bad during the day. Of course, it was extremely safe considering it was where they all met and kept their shit. But he didn’t want to introduce her to the people. They’d like her, they’d love her even. He didn’t want her to integrate into the society there because she deserved more.

It wasn’t a knock to his brothers. They didn’t want their sisters or daughters, hell even their wives or girlfriends around it sometimes. It put a target on their backs- but it seemed she already had one there.

She was Sterling’s sister, she was a low risk but they had enemies. They had to make sure it wasn’t one of them. “I know you’ve built it up in your head but I just gotta say it isn’t anything special.” It was a compound with a large garage to work on their bikes, a house with an open downstairs with a large bar and couches and pool tables, a meeting room and tables to eat the food the girls who worked there made. “You good with that?”

She looked up at him with a cautious look. She hasn’t expected that. It was something he said he would never do, she wondered why the change of heart but decided not to push it. Y/N simply nodded, giving him an ‘Mhm’ and a small smile before passing him a mug of tea.

It was clear he wanted to smooth things over but wasn’t sure how. She wondered if maybe this was his way of trying to comfort her. Either way, she would definitely need more from him than that.

Y/N was never really aware of Harry’s love life or lack thereof. She knew he definitely had slept with loads of women but she never heard about any of them. She wondered if he even liked intimacy and if he ever got it from someone properly.

She always did her best to show it to him in the ways she would allow herself to. His reactions were always so wholesome despite his tough appearance. He practically melted, always so shocked that she would do something like that for him so easily.

He slowly rose the cup of tea to his mouth. He loved tea but rarely had anyone make it for him anymore. She knew how to do it right, for some reason, which always did freak him out a little.

“Thanks.” He mumbled. There was a bit of silence in the kitchen as his eyes stayed locked on her form, watching as she puttered around the kitchen, looking over the shit in his fridge and pantry. It was pretty bare bones and he could practically hear her remarks about how he could ‘live like this’ and how he ‘stayed in shape when all he had was blueberry pop tarts.’

“Make a list.” His words broke his silence and made her jump. It made him want to smile seeing her jump and squeak, gripping her chest in fright. It was a harmless scare. “If you’re gonna complain… I’ll buy you whatever shit you want to cook. Put the shit you want to snack on too. You’re gonna be on lockdown for a bit.” He didn’t take for granted that she had come with him without a fight. She knew far better than to fight him on that when danger was around.

Lockdown made things sound a lot scarier. She knew having a stalker was a big deal but Harry was making it seem like it was a whole operation. To him it was. Y/N decided not to think too much about it, opting to make the list full of their favorites.

When Harry and Sterling first became friends, Y/N used to cook for them all the time when being a chef was just a pipe dream. Harry used to compliment her cooking even when it tasted shit, he never let her think she wasn’t good at it, but she could tell when it started improving just by the way his eyes would widen and his brows would furrow as he took another bite.

Y/N decided she needed to wind down after making the list, night had fallen and she knew they’d be going to sleep soon. A little bit of TV couldn’t hurt, right?

—

Harry finished up his third cigarette, smashing it on the ashtray as he finished the phone call.

Tomorrow wasn’t going to be easy. They had to hatch a plan on how to best keep her safe and he had a feeling she wasn’t going to love the ideas they’d been mulling over the call. But he trusted Viper.

He stretched his aching bones, opening the sliding glass door to find her curled up in a ball on his couch. In the corner of the sectional, she watched Gordon Ramsey yell at someone about unclean kitchens, her eyes falling as she sat there. How she slept with his incessant yelling, he had no idea, but it was time for bed.

“Time to sleep.” He grabbed the remote and turned the tv off, ignoring her pout. He didn’t want to think about it being cute, or how soft and sleepy she looked. Warm. Like if he laid down with her and tucked his face between her breast, he could fall asleep to the sound of her breathing.

That thought was quickly shaken away as she stretched out, standing up like a kitten waking from a nap. “You can just show me where the extra pillows and blankets are.” She murmured, wrapping her arms around herself.

“No.” He blinked. “Come on.” He didn’t give her a choice but to follow him, walking across the room to his bedroom. The light flickered on and he tossed his house shoes to the side, adjusting them with his feet.

“In.” He didn’t have to look at her to know she was behind him as he took each ring off of his fingers, plopping them in the ring dish.

“Are you sure?” She asked with caution. Harry was used to being alone and she didn’t want to crowd his space. It was his bedroom after all. “Where are you going to sleep?” Surely it wouldn’t be in the bed with her.

She could already feel herself getting giddy at the thought, unsure if she’d actually be able to get any sleep lying next to him. It was always so easy to deal with her crush because it wasn’t often that they had spent time together alone.

With Sterling being away he had come to visit her more often, but even that didn’t compare to being surrounded by his smell in the comfort of his home. How he had no issues with her doing whatever she wanted here, how he was always close by keeping an eye on her.

“Here.” He said simply. “Couch hurts my back, you don’t want me weaker.” He untucked the gun from his waistband and tucked it into the bedside table drawer after checking the safety. The knife attached to his ankle was next, the holster tucked neatly away.

He could feel her eyes on him, heard the uptick in her breathing. She wasn’t used to Harry like this. Harry… being himself in the way other people saw him. Of course she knew he was dangerous but seeing him place the gun into the drawer, knowing he had the capability to use it and has in the past? It made her insides twist.

She couldn’t decipher if it was a good or bad way quite yet. It was a mix of nerves and arousal. That certainly didn’t help her keeping cool. She made her way over to the bed, leaving her hoodie on the side and stripping from her sweats so she could be comfy in her t-shirt and sleep shorts. The left side of the bed because Harry seemed to have his own little setup on the right.

“I sleep closest to the door. If we separate and someone gets in through the balcony, which they won’t- I have take first hit.” He knew it wouldn’t happen though.

“You’re against the wall.” He didn’t look at her as he undid his belt, back to her as he grabbed sweatpants from his drawer. Naked sleeping would have to wait until this was all resolved.

“Put up a pillow if it makes you feel better. But until I find out where this piece of shit is, you aren’t leaving the sight of me or someone from the club.”

“Oh…”

It was all she could really manage to say as she realized that this wouldn’t be the only night she spent sleeping next to him. He said she was going to be on lockdown for a while. It was finally clicking that she was going to be locked down with him.

Y/N climbed under the covers, his scent-soaked sheets invading her senses. She practically purred, letting out an audible hum that she pass off as a sleepy coo.

“It’s really comfy…” She mumbled, shoving her face into the pillow with another hum. “What time do we have to be up tomorrow?” Y/N wanted to continue the conversation so she didn’t get too lost in the fact that he was shirtless and in grey sweats in front of her.

It’s like he was doing it on purpose.

“7. You take forever to get ready.” He remembered Sterling bitching about it all the time when they’d go out. Bunny always managed to look incredibly pretty and put together though, so he assumed it probably was for the greater good.

A selfish part of him wanted her disheveled and sloppy so maybe the guys wouldn’t be as interested- but it wouldn’t matter. Bunny was a fucking model regardless of makeup or clothing. It stroked an irritated, possessive cord he didn’t want to be strummed.

“We get there at 8. Meet with Viper, then breakfast.” He was making up for his coldness before by filling her in. His body was tense knowing she was snuggled into his bed, getting her scent all over his sheets. It seemed like he was a glutton for punishment.

His hair was put into a loose bun so it didn’t get fucked up immensely when he slept, but he knew he’d have to fix it again in the morning.

He wordlessly excused himself to the bathroom, brushing his teeth quickly to get the smokes off of his breath, and gave himself a once over. He looked like every father’s worst nightmare for their daughter- and it was true. Harry was quite literally the worst thing that could happen to a girl. He fucked and left, and while he left them satisfied, never went there again. One and dones were his thing, even if the club girls who volunteered themselves liked to think he would give in one day.

He wouldn’t. People got attached.

He came back into the room to see her staring at the ceiling. It wasn’t like her, really. Bunny was nosy and noisy and giggly. A seed of discomfort welled in his throat, unsure how to approach it.

“Y’good?” Was his attempt, throwing the covers back and sitting in the bed.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She nodded as she looked over his body once more and gently closed her eyes. Letting out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in, she turned on her side to face him and wondered how he felt about all of this.

It wasn’t until he turned off the lights and got comfortable that she spoke up again, letting the darkness fuel her courage.

“Thank you for letting me stay here.” She was feeling guilty for giving him an attitude earlier. She knew he was just trying to help even though his delivery did hurt her feelings. Harry had her best interest at heart, she knew that. She was just craving emotional support.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Damn it.

He chewed his inner cheek. He felt the guilt inside of him grow. Of course, he didn’t have to be so coarse with her but it was hard to find a happy medium. If he leaned into the softness in his gut it could put him in a situation where he liked her more than he should. Sterling would kick his ass, and in turn, it would make her life even more dangerous than needed.

He exhaled slowly, looking over to where she was laying. “Told you I’d protect you. I’d do it if Sterling was here or not.” He mumbled. “M’not gonna let this dick hurt you. Yeah, should have told me sooner but….” He paused to lick his lips, thinking his words through. He didn’t talk this much to other people. Didn’t want or need to.

“Can’t do anything about it now. You’re safe. Got me and the club to take care of you. Just… listen to me. Don’t be reckless. Don’t fight me at every turn. Kay?”

It was as good as it was going to get to comforting for him tonight. It was still not where she wanted it to be, but from him, it was what it was.

Y/N felt content with his answer, it’s the most she’d ever gotten out of him and she didn’t feel like pressing him for more. She wanted to let him choose if and when he wanted to open up more. However, she still wanted to ease his worries even if he claimed it was part of the job.

“Kay.” She mumbled, lifting her head off of the pillow so she could lean into his frame and press a sweet kiss to his cheek. The small gesture made her feel giddy as she pulled back and got comfortable under the covers again.

“Goodnight, Harry.” She whispered, not trusting her voice due to how fast her heart was beating. She felt like a teenager again, giddy at the idea of him feeling flustered. Of course, she couldn’t tell because she had her eyes closed and it was dark, but still! She hoped maybe it made him feel good and appreciated because he deserved that.

It was so simple for her, but for someone like him, softness wasn’t always well received. She felt honored to be one of the ones he allowed to be soft with him.

His cheek burned. Both from the blush and her kiss, making him feel a bit squirmy.

It was annoying how much she had an effect on him. He was a grown man who’d had plenty of pussy in a variety of ways, who looked death in the face every day. And yet here he was. Blushing over a cheek kiss.

“Night.” He said gruffly, eyes wide open as he took his turn to lay back and look at the ceiling.

This wasn’t like him. He wasn’t someone who likes this sort of shit or tolerated it. He simply didn’t. He hated softness and touches it was rough and hard and hands tied behind backs and faces buried in mattresses. Not a fucking cheek kiss. It was disarming to feel something when he was so used to being numb.

The real option Viper had offered him today had been weighing on his mind. Could he do it without losing himself in it? Could Bunny? He wasn’t sure. But he’d rather it end up with her mad at him than her hurt. It pissed him off fully to know she was in any sort of danger, he was working hard to make sure that it wouldn’t be the case again.

His eyes eventually drifted close as he turned to look at the dark outline of her, listening to her breathing and sleepy noises. In another world, he would let himself crave intimacy like this every night- but he couldn’t.

Especially not with her.

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matttgirlies · 7 months ago

Text

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - mentions of drug use

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 11

Matt Sturniolo created his own world; only in his own environment did he feel secure, comfortable, and protected. A genuine camaraderie was created at Graceland. We lived as one big family, eating, talking, arguing, joking, playing, and traveling together.

Although I became friends with the guys in Matt’s retinue, he never let me, or anyone else, forget that I was his girl. I was never to get too close or become too familiar with any of the regulars.

One evening, after we came home from a movie, we said good night to everyone and went upstairs. Returning to the kitchen a few minutes later to get something to eat, I found Jerry Schilling, who’d just started working for Matt, making himself a snack. We started talking. A few minutes later, Matt appeared.

“What the hell are you two doing down here?” he shouted at us.

Intimidated, Jerry said, “Well, Matt, we were just talking. I was asking her how she felt, because she didn’t feel well this afternoon.”

“I came down to get something to eat,” I explained.

“y/nn, you don’t need to be roaming around here late at night,” he said, angrily ordering me upstairs.

Behind me, I could hear him lashing out at Jerry. “If you want to keep this job, son, you mind your own business. If there’s anyone who’s going to ask her how she feels, it’ll be me. You better mind your own goddamn business.”

I liked Jerry. He was warm, sincere, and very personable; just a couple of years older than I, he was one of the few people who I could relate to. But from that time on, it was a dodging match every time we’d run into each other. Now Jerry and I laugh about the “good old days” when we reminisce.

Most of the boys who worked for Matt had been around from the beginning and they knew all about him—his sense of humor, his sensitivity, and his temper. He stripped himself bare in front of them, and they accepted him for what he was.

Yet working for Matt was a twenty-four-hour-a-day job, and the boys were at his beck and call constantly. They played when he played and slept when he slept. It took a certain kind of personality to put up with his demands, whether they made sense or not.

“Come on, y/nn, let’s go to Los Angeles. I’ll show you where I film movies.,” he said one afternoon when we’d only been up for a few hours. He called downstairs and told Alan to alert everyone that he wanted to leave within the hour.

Alan said, “Okay, Boss. I think Richard and Gene are still sleeping. I’ll give ’em a call and tell ’em to come right over.”

“Their lazy asses are still sleeping?” Matt asked. “I’ve been up for two goddamn hours. They should have been over here by now. Alan, from now on, when I call down for my breakfast, call the boys and tell them I’m up and to be ready for anything, and that may include me not even coming downstairs. I just want them here.”

Demanding? Yes, but Matt could be just as generous. By today’s standards the boys’ salaries were not high—the average paycheck was $250 a week—but if the boys ever felt the pinch by the end of the month, they would go to Matt. They’d ask him if he could help them out with a down payment on a house or the first and last months’ payments on an apartment. Matt always came through for them, lending them the one thousand or five thousand or ten thousand dollars they asked for. He was rarely if ever paid back.

There also was no limit to the expensive gifts he gave them—television consoles for Christmas, bonus checks, Cadillac convertibles, Mercedes-Benzes. If he heard someone was sad or depressed, he loved to surprise them with a gift, usually a brand-new car. When he gave to one, he would usually end up giving to all.

James didn’t have much respect for the guys. He said Matt just gave and gave and gave, and they took and took and took. He’d say, “Son, we have to save.” Matt would answer, “It’s only money, Dad. I just have to go out and make more.”

James resented the regulars acting as if Graceland was their personal club. They’d go into the kitchen at any hour and order anything they wanted. Naturally, everyone ordered something different. The cooks worked night and day keeping them happy. James felt, “To hell with the boys. Their main concern should be Matt.”

What was really outrageous was that the regulars were ordering sirloin steaks or prime ribs while Matt usually ate hamburgers or peanut butter and banana sandwiches.

I wasn’t too popular around Graceland when I started reorganizing the kitchen. I set down a policy of having one menu per meal, and anyone who didn’t like what was on it could go to a local restaurant. This new edict resulted in much grumbling from the guys, but the cooks were relieved, and James sanctioned my decision, announcing, “It’s about time someone organized the meals. It was beginning to look like we were feeding half of Boston.”

Matt was the boss, the provider, and the power. Both the boys and I had to protect him from people who annoyed or irritated him and were no longer in his favor. Before coming down for the evening, he’d have me call downstairs to check who was there. I’d run down the guests, aware that certain names would strike him wrong.

“Shit,” he’d say, his mood destroyed. “What’s he want? Bring me some more bad news?” He’d stay up in his room rather than spend an evening with someone he didn’t like. There was one particular regular who had incurred his disfavor, and Matt told everyone he didn’t want him around. “Don’t let him through those goddamn gates!” Matt ordered. “All I have to do is look at his face and I get depressed.” Matt barred him from Graceland for a number of years, saying, “If he changes his morbid attitude, maybe I’ll change my mind.” His perceptions were correct, as these “friends” eventually betrayed him.

Matt and James kept some of their relatives at a distance because, as Matt explained to me, they’d shunned him when he was growing up, ridiculing him as a sissy, a mama’s boy. Mary Lou stood up for Matt and told his tormentors to go their own way. Angrily, she had said, “Don’t bother us with these accusations.”

Then fame and fortune hit, and suddenly all the kinfolk came around, begging for jobs or crying that they needed help. Sometimes Matt got upset, charging, “The only time they visit is with their hand out. It’d be nice if they’d come around just to see how I was doing. But hell no, it’s always, ‘Ah, Matt, I could use a little extra cash. Could you help me out?’ Hell, I’ll bet when I’m dead and gone, they’ll still be taking advantage.” But Matt ended up slipping each of them a hundred dollars or more every time they came around. If it had been up to James, he would have gotten rid of every one of them. But Matt kept saying, “No, Dad, they don’t have any place to go. They couldn’t work anywhere. Keep them here.”

From the beginning of his success, Matt put many family members on salary, and all had titles. James was his business manager; Patsy, his personal secretary; uncles Vester Sturniolo and Johnny and Travis Smith, and cousin Harold Lloyd, gate guards; cousins Billy, Bobby, and Gene, personal aides; and then there was Tracy Smith, who seemed to go from brother to brother for support. Matt took care of everyone.

I remember one night at Graceland when Matt came back to the kitchen and saw Tracy pacing the floor. “Hey, Tracy,” he said, “How ya doing, man?” Tracy, his hands in his pockets, could hardly look Matt in the eye. “I don’t know, Matt,” he sighed. “What do ya mean, you don’t know? Everyone knows how they’re doin’, man.”

Tracy, shifting back and forth, mumbled, “I got my nerves in the dirt, Matt.” Matt staggered back, laughing. “Nerves in the dirt! Hell, I never heard it expressed like that before. You need some money, Tracy?”

Again, Tracy just shifted back and forth, as Matt called Nate over and told him to give Tracy a bill. A big smile covered Tracy’s lined face as he happily took his hundred dollars and walked out the door.

Matt knew that having his nerves in the dirt was Tracy’s way of saying he was down and out—and worried sick about it. He never forgot that phrase. “Poor ol’ Matt,” he’d say. “I’ll never forget the look on his face that night, poor ol’ guy.”

That was Matt—always caring, always sensitive to everyone’s needs, even while presenting a macho image to his fans and friends.

Anything I could think of doing for him, I did. I made sure Graceland was always warm and inviting, with the lights turned low, as he preferred them, the temperature in his bedroom set to his exact desire (freezing), and the kitchen filled with the aroma of his favorite meals.

Every night before dinner was served, I came downstairs first, checked with the maids to see that his food was just the way he liked it—his mashed potatoes creamily whipped, plenty of cornbread, and his meat burnt to perfection. I always had candles on the dining room table to create a romantic atmosphere despite the fact that we always ate with several of the regulars.

I loved babying Matt. He had a little-boy quality that could bring out the mother instinct in any woman, a beguiling way of seeming utterly dependent. It was this aspect of his charm that made me want to hold him, shower him with affection, protect him, fight for him, and yes, even die for him. I went to extremes in taking care of him, from cutting his steak at dinner to making sure his water glass was always filled. I enjoyed pampering and spoiling him and found myself jealous of others vying for his attention and approval.

But I didn’t always receive his approval. If something went wrong with his dinner, Matt blew up. “Why isn’t this steak done? Why didn’t you make sure the maids cooked it right? If you’d have done your job, it wouldn’t have turned out like this.” Obviously something else was wrong, and I didn’t recognize it at the time. Because of the continuous pressures and problems in Matt’s life, all magnified by taking prescribed drugs, little things would set him off. I took responsibility for everything in his life and always took it all too personally.

I wanted to be with Matt as much as I could, but while going to the movies or the fairgrounds every night might have been a wonderful way for him to relax, it posed an enormous problem for me. Often I wouldn’t get home until 5 or 6 a.m., and I’d have to be at school two hours later. Sometimes I never went to sleep. When I did, I could barely make it out of bed. I would lie there trying to drum up the strength to face the day, Matt making it even harder by suggesting that I sleep in and cut classes. It would have been so easy to go along with his suggestion, but hanging over me was the agreement I’d made with my parents. They trusted me and even though I was letting them down, I still had to keep up the facade.

Day after day I drove to school, attended classes till noon, then returned to Graceland to slip back into bed and cuddle next to Matt, who was still sound asleep. When he awoke at 3 or 4 p.m., I might never have left his side for all he knew. I was there to give him his usual order of orange juice, a Spanish omelet, home-fried potatoes, a mere two pounds of bacon, and—first and foremost—his black coffee.

Everyone who knew Matt was aware that it took him at least two to three hours to wake up fully. Asking him to make a decision, even a simple one such as what movie he wanted to see that night, was ill-advised. He was just too groggy and irritable from the sleeping pills, which were causing him to sleep as many as fourteen hours a day. It seemed only natural for him to take some Dexedrine to wake up.

I was always concerned about his intake of sleeping pills. His horror of insomnia, compounded with a family history of compulsive worrying, caused him to down three or four Placidyls, Seconals, Quaaludes, or Tuinals almost every night—and often it was a combination of all four. When I expressed my concern, he just picked up the medical dictionary, always near at hand on his night table.

“In here is the explanation for every type of pill on the market, their ingredients, side effects, cures, everything about them,” he assured me. “There isn’t anything I can’t find out.”

It was true. He was always reading up on pills, always checking to see what was on the market, and which ones had received FDA approval. He referred to them by their medical names and knew all their ingredients. Like everyone else around him, I was impressed with his knowledge and certain that he was an expert. One would think he had a degree in pharmacology. He always assured me that he didn’t need pills, that he could never become dependent on them. This difference in opinion resulted in many serious confrontations; I always compromised my integrity and ended up taking his viewpoint.

I began taking sleeping pills and diet pills too. Two Placidyls for him and one for me. A Dexedrine for him and one for me. Eventually Matt’s consumption of pills seemed as normal to me as watching him eat a pound of bacon with his Spanish omelet. I routinely took “helpers” in order to get to sleep after wild rides at the fairgrounds or early-morning jam sessions. And I routinely took more “helpers” when I woke up in order to maintain the fast pace and, more importantly, to study for my final exams.

During the last month before finals, I started popping more dexies than before. They seemed to give me the energy I needed to get through classes and homework. Every free moment was devoted to cramming a whole semester’s work into a few weeks. But my concentration was scattered; the strain of life at Graceland had finally caught up with me.

I had already been warned by Sister Adrian that in order for me to graduate, I had to pass all my subjects. During a talk in her office, I wanted desperately to confide in her and explained how hard it was to maintain my grade level with the late hours I kept: But how could I tell that to a nun?

I had no real goals after graduation, but I did sometimes dream of becoming a dancer or possibly enrolling in an art academy. Now I realize that I was deeply influenced by Matt’s casual attitude toward continued schooling. He figured I didn’t need it and I agreed. Just being with him most of the time would provide an education—not to mention experience—that no school could give me. He wanted me to be his totally, free to go to him in an instant if he needed me.

That sounded great to me. I’d never planned on a future without Matt. Therefore, while my classmates were deciding which colleges to apply to, I was deciding which gun to wear with what sequined dress. I was tempted to say to Sister Adrian, “Oh, by the way, Sister, does gunmetal gray go with royal blue sequins?” With that attitude it was no surprise that I was still woefully unprepared for my most hated subject, algebra, the week before finals.

On the day of the test, I sat in the crowded classroom, hyper from downing a dexy, trying to work out the problems. Despite my effort, I knew there was no way I was going to pass. I started to panic. I had to graduate. I had an obligation to Matt and to my parents, who I knew would yank me out of Graceland the minute I failed this test. I glanced at the girl next to me—and at her completed test paper. It’s my last resort, I thought. I’m going for it. I was not willing to face the consequences of being sent home for failing this test.

Her name was Janet and she was a straight A student. I tapped her on the shoulder and flashed my brightest smile, whispering, “Are you a Matt fan?” Taken aback by my question, Janet nodded yes. “How would you like to come to one of his parties?” I asked.

“Are you kidding?” she replied. “I’d love to.”

“Well, I know a way that it can be arranged.”

I eyed her test paper and explained. Janet instantly grasped my dilemma and, without a word, slid her paper to the edge of her desk. Now I had a full view of her answers. I spent the rest of the hour furiously copying them down and I not only passed, but I got an A on that test.

I hadn’t expected Matt to make much of my graduation. His attitude was, “A diploma’s not that important; life’s experiences are.” But to my surprise, he really looked forward to it and arranged to have a big party for our friends after the ceremony. There he presented a beautiful red Corvair, my first car.

On the big night he was like a proud parent. Nervous about what he should wear to the ceremony, he finally settled on a dark blue suit, and I put on my navy blue gown. I couldn’t possibly keep the cap on over that mass of teased hair.

Matt had a limo waiting for us out front. But there was one problem: I did not want him to come to the actual ceremony. It would attract a lot of attention, and all eyes would be focused on him instead of the graduating seniors.

Finally I worked up enough courage to ask him to wait outside, and explained why. Smiling his funny little grin, the one that came to his lips when he was hurt or upset, he agreed without hesitation. “I hadn’t thought about that,” he said. “I won’t come in. I’ll just be outside in the car waiting for you. That way I’ll kinda be there.”

And that was what he did. I accepted my diploma with mixed emotions. I would have loved for him to have been watching, but only I knew what a physical, emotional, and mental strain it had been to get that piece of paper. To me, it represented freedom, freedom to stay out until dawn if I wanted and sleep all day if I wanted. It represented freedom from my school uniform and from the teasing the entourage subjected me to every time they caught me in it trying to sneak past them at Graceland. I was a big girl playing in the big leagues.

As soon as I could get away, I ran outside. In front of the church, Matt and the boys were standing by the long black limo, looking like the Chicago Mafia in their dark glasses and suits, each concealing a.38. Around them a group of nuns were clamoring for Matt’s autograph.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - so cute🎀

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