#I still remember exactly where I wrote that first chapter and that it was a Friday and I was feeling a bit adventurous | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jungwnies · 19 days ago

Text

F1 GRID | the end of the season '24

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : quiet nights at the hotel after a long race

୨ৎ : genre : some are happy & some are sad ୨ৎ : tws : none ୨ৎ : word count : 2531

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : i am so proud of lando for being able to secure that wcc for mclaren, but i am SO sad seeing carlos drive in red for the last time, and seeing lewis have his last drive with mercedes :c

ʚ・max verstappen

the post-race buzz of abu dhabi had faded, leaving a quiet calm in max's hotel suite. he sprawled on the sofa, phone in hand, scrolling through memes with that trademark deadpan expression. p6 wasn't great—definitely not how he wanted to wrap the season—but the world championship trophy on his shelf said it all. he was untouchable, even on an off day.

you dropped onto the couch next to him, giving him a small smile. "not quite the result we were hoping for, huh?"

he tilted his head, barely fazed. "meh. one bad race doesn’t erase a good season." he tossed his phone onto the table, already over it. "at least now i don’t have to hear the word 'tyre degradation' for a while."

"exactly," you agreed, nudging his arm. "just endless beaches, lazy mornings, and maybe some sketchy tourist traps."

he smirked, his eyes lighting up for the first time all evening. "knowing you, that probably means camel racing or some falcon photo op where i end up holding a bird for instagram."

you laughed. "don’t pretend like you wouldn’t secretly enjoy it."

"maybe," he admitted with a faint grin. "but only if there’s good food after. priorities, you know?"

as you leaned into his side, you felt the tension melt away from him. the season was done, the pressure gone. and for once, max verstappen, the reigning world champion, was just a guy on a couch, ready to trade apexes for sunsets and podiums for bad tourist selfies.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

a bittersweet stillness filled the room—p4 after starting sixteenth was nothing short of remarkable, but tonight marked the end of an era. his last race with mercedes. the silver star that had defined his legacy, his dominance, was now in the rearview mirror.

you leaned into him, your head resting lightly on his shoulder. "what a drive, lewis," you murmured, pride laced in your voice. "it was magic out there, just like always."

he smiled faintly, his gaze fixed on the city lights beyond the window. "it felt good, you know? pushing through the field like that. it’s how i want to remember this team—fighting, always fighting." his voice was steady, but there was a weight behind it, a depth only you could hear.

"it’s hard to see this chapter end," you said softly, running your fingers along the edge of his hand. "so many years, so much history. but watching you today—watching you fight with every ounce of heart you’ve got—it’s impossible not to feel proud."

he turned to you then, his eyes warm, a quiet fire still flickering in them. "it’s sad, yeah. mercedes is family. but every journey has its end, and every end makes way for something new. it’s time. time for a new challenge."

you smiled, squeezing his hand. "and ferrari red will suit you, no doubt about it."

that earned a laugh from him, light but genuine, his shoulders finally easing. "we’ll see. it’ll be... different. but i’m ready for different. i have to be."

"you’ll thrive," you said, meeting his gaze with steady confidence. "because that’s who you are, lewis. you don’t just race—you redefine what’s possible."

he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "and having you by my side, that makes it all the better."

the evening stretched on as you reminisced about mercedes—about the victories, the struggles, the growth. there was sadness, yes, but also hope, an electric anticipation for the future. ferrari would be a new challenge, but lewis hamilton was built for challenges. and you? you’d be there, through it all, cheering him on as he wrote the next chapter of his already legendary story.

ʚ・george russell

the air in george’s hotel room was thick with emotions. lewis—his teammate, his mentor, his benchmark—was leaving for ferrari. the weight of it sat heavily on his shoulders, a silent pressure he hadn’t quite found the words to unpack.

you settled beside him on the bed, your hand resting lightly on his back. "you drove brilliantly today, george," you said softly, your tone filled with pride.

he gave you a faint smile, though his usual spark was dimmed. "thanks. it’s just... weird, you know? lewis not being here next season. he's been... well, everything. a teammate, a rival, someone to learn from."

"it’s a huge change," you agreed, your voice gentle. "but today, you showed exactly what you’re made of. you didn’t just race—you fought, george. and everyone saw it."

he turned to look at you, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "but can i really lead this team now? without him?"

you met his gaze firmly, your conviction unwavering. "you don’t have to be lewis, george. you’ve already proven you're your own kind of leader—sharp, determined, and always hungry for more. you don’t need to fill anyone’s shoes because you’re carving out your own legacy."

his shoulders relaxed slightly, the tension giving way to a spark of confidence. "it’s just... lewis set such a high bar. and stepping into that space—it’s a lot."

"you don’t need to step into his space," you reminded him with a reassuring smile. "you’ve earned your own, george. you’ve fought for it, and you’re more than ready to take the reins."

he took a deep breath, the weight on his chest easing as resolve began to take its place. "this is my chance, isn’t it? to really prove myself."

"absolutely," you said, squeezing his hand. "and i’ll be right here, every step of the way, cheering for you."

his smile widened, more genuine this time, and he leaned in to kiss you softly. "thank you, love" he murmured. "that means everything."

as the night stretched on, you stayed by his side, feeling his determination grow stronger with each passing moment. george russell was ready to rise, ready to lead, and ready to show the world exactly why he belonged at the front of the pack. and you couldn’t wait to witness it all.

ʚ・carlos sainz

arlos sank onto the balcony of his hotel suite, the cool night air brushing against his skin, a sharp contrast to the adrenaline and heat of the race. it his last race with ferrari, the team that had become more than a job.

you slipped behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, resting your chin lightly on him. "carlos," you said softly, your voice thick with emotion, "you were amazing today. truly incredible."

he let out a quiet sigh, leaning back into your embrace, his eyes fixed on the city lights. "yeah, it was a good one. but leaving ferrari? that’s… it’s hard. really hard."

"i know," you murmured, your cheek pressing against his. "you and charles, ferrari… it felt like it fit, like it was meant to be."

he nodded slowly, a small, wistful smile tugging at his lips. "we were a good team, weren’t we? two competitive guys who somehow managed not to kill each other every weekend," he joked, though his voice carried a faint sadness. "but, ah, next season? it’s going to feel strange not seeing his stupid smile in the garage."

you chuckled softly. "but you’ll always have the memories," you reminded him. "and you’ll make new ones, new rivalries, new podiums."

he turned to look at you, his warm brown eyes meeting yours. "do you remember my first race with ferrari?" he asked, a grin breaking through the sadness. "lando was on the podium with me. and now he’s here again for my last one. crazy, no?"

"it’s like the universe has a sense of humor," you said, your smile mirroring his. "full circle moments like that don’t just happen by chance."

he laughed softly, his shoulders relaxing a bit. "yeah, maybe. or maybe it’s just one of those little things that reminds me to enjoy the journey."

you held him close, knowing how much leaving ferrari meant to him. the passion, the heart, the pure determination he’d poured into every single lap. but you also knew that carlos was unstoppable—wherever he went, whatever he faced, he would find his way to the top.

"wherever you go, whatever happens," you said, your voice steady and filled with love, "i’ll be right there, cheering you on."

his arms wrapped around you, pulling you in tightly. "i know," he whispered, his voice thick with gratitude. "and that’s what keeps me grounded. thank you, mi amor."

ʚ・charles leclerc

the roar of the abu dhabi crowd had faded, leaving only the soft hum of the air conditioning in charles’ hotel room. he sat on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the trophy for his third-place finish. starting p19 after that engine penalty, clawing his way up to the podium—it was an extraordinary drive. but there was a weight in his gaze, a shadow of disappointment.

you sat beside him, your hand finding his. "charles," you said gently, your voice full of admiration, "that was incredible. you were on fire out there."

he offered a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "it wasn’t enough," he muttered, his voice heavy with frustration. "we were so close to the WCC... but mclaren just had too much."

"you did everything you could," you assured him, squeezing his hand. "no one could have driven that race better. you started from the back, charles. and you still ended up on the podium. that’s... that’s amazing."

he ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. "i know, i know. it's just hard. we were so close. it stings."

you gently cupped his face, lifting his chin so his eyes met yours. "charles leclerc, you are one of the best out there. don’t let this one race make you forget everything you've accomplished this season. you fought for every position, you never gave up, and you made us all proud."

a real smile tugged at his lips, the weight on his shoulders easing slightly. "thank you," he whispered, leaning into your touch. "i needed that."

there was a brief pause, and a flicker of sadness passed through his eyes. "it’s gonna be strange without carlos next year," he said quietly, his voice low.

you felt a pang for him. you knew how close he and carlos were, both on and off the track. "i know," you murmured, your heart aching. "but you'll still have him as a friend. and you’ll both keep achieving incredible things."

he nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "he’s like a brother to me. it won’t be the same without him."

you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. "i know it won’t," you whispered, running your fingers through his hair. "but i know you ,charles. you'll adapt. you’ll keep shining."

he held you tighter, drawing comfort from your embrace, "what would i do without you mon amour."

you let out a soft laugh and place a gentle peck on his lips, "you'd probably be a mess without me, i love you."

"i love you too." he told you, snuggling closer.

ʚ・lando norris

the echoes of the abu dhabi celebrations had finally faded, leaving a peaceful quiet in lando's hotel suite. he was sprawled on the sofa, the trophy resting on his chest, his eyes half-closed as a contented sigh escaped his lips. the excitement from the victory was still buzzing inside him, but a calm had settled in, like he was finally letting everything sink in.

you curled up beside him, your finger tracing the lines of the trophy. "still can't believe it, huh?" you whispered, a soft smile on your face.

lando chuckled, a grin tugging at his lips. "yeah, it's still kinda crazy. like, i feel like i'm dreaming, but don't wanna wake up."

"you were amazing today, lando," you said, your voice filled with pride. "and the whole season, really. you led mclaren to victory. it’s historic."

he grinned, his eyes lighting up. "yeah, it really is, isn’t it? bringing mclaren back to the top after all this time... feels unreal. but in the best way possible."

"you deserve all the praise," you reassured him, snuggling closer. "you’ve worked so hard, and you’ve grown so much as a driver. i'm so proud of you."

he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in closer. "couldn’t have done it without you, honestly," he murmured, his voice warm. "you’ve been with me through all of it—my biggest supporter."

"and i always will be," you promised, feeling your heart swell. "through the wins, the losses, i’ll be right here."

he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft kiss. "and that's all i need," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

as you lay together, bathed in the soft glow of the hotel room lights, the weight of his achievement settled in. lando norris, the man who led mclaren to the top of the world again, securing the WCC after 26 years. this moment, this victory, would be something you both would remember forever. the future was bright, and you couldn’t wait for the next adventure—together.

ʚ・oscar piastri

back in the comfort of his hotel room, oscar kicked back with a grin plastered on his face, the adrenaline from the race replaced by his usual playful energy. p10 wasn’t the podium he’d wanted, but who cared? mclaren had just clinched the WCC, and that was more than enough for him.

“we did it!” he shouted, arms thrown up in the air, his grin wider than ever. “champions, baby!”

you chuckled, shaking your head at his excitement. “you guys were incredible today, oscar. especially lando, bringing home the win.”

“yeah, lando was on fire!” oscar agreed, grabbing a celebratory drink from the minibar. “though, i wouldn’t mind a podium myself…” he paused, a glint of mischief lighting up his eyes. “if it weren’t for someone deciding to use my car as a brake early on.”

you raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your smile. “ah, yes. max verstappen. saw that incident. bit of a rough start, huh?”

“rough is putting it lightly,” oscar grumbled with a smirk, taking a swig of his drink. “the guy treated me like a bowling pin! swear i saw stars, maybe even a few constellations.”

“well, you can’t deny it made for some exciting racing,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

“exciting for you, maybe,” he shot back with a grin. “i was just trying to survive out there! dodging debris, angry drivers... felt like a demolition derby.”

“but you made it through,” you pointed out. “and you contributed to the team’s victory. that’s what counts.”

he gave a dramatic nod, his humor returning full force. “true, true. who needs a podium when you’ve got bragging rights for surviving a verstappen torpedo?”

you burst out laughing, unable to hold back. “that’s the spirit babe."

as laughter filled the room, you couldn’t help but admire oscar’s resilience and ability to keep things light, even when things didn’t go his way. he might’ve been a little salty about the verstappen incident, but he was genuinely happy for the team, and that’s what made him such an asset. next season was going to be one to remember, and you couldn’t wait to see what this rising star would achieve.

760 notes · View notes

punkshort · 1 year ago

Text

i'll be home for christmas | part one

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Having just caught your fiancé cheating on you, you decide to come back home from the big city to Austin for the month of December to try to figure out your next step. You had no idea you would be getting more than you bargained for with the handsome single dad who built your parents' house.

Chapter Warnings: no outbreak, modern day but Joel is 40, language, fluff, flirting, reader has a childhood nickname only her family uses, Hallmark tropes up the wazoo, soft!joel, reader's sister is pregnant, talks of infidelity, talks of divorce, alcohol use, kissing, (smut in part two)

WC: 9.1K

A/N: this is my take on a cheesy, fluffy, soft, smutty, Joel Miller Hallmark Christmas movie. It's just sweet and silly and makes me smile, and I hope it does the same for you. I also wrote this in less than 2 days and didn't really edit it much, so sorry in advance if there's any errors.

Found the pic on Twitter but can't remember the source, if you know please send me a message and i will credit them

Series Masterlist

It was the second week of December as you stood inside the airport in Austin, Texas, waiting for your luggage to emerge on the conveyor belt. You thought by coming home early, you would have avoided the holiday traffic, but you were wrong. All around you, people squealed with excitement and embraced, dragging their worn out luggage behind them as they made their way out of the bustling airport. You tried to keep the scowl from your face as you watched, but it was next to impossible, so you wrapped your Burberry scarf around your neck instead, hoping to hide your displeasure.

This was not the plan you had for Christmas. You should be in New York in a high-rise apartment in front of a roaring fireplace with a glass of wine and your fiancé - ex-fiancé - not back in Austin with your parents, who begged you to come visit for the holidays after you told them the news.

Coming home to visit wasn't your favorite thing, but you felt guilty having avoided the holidays with your family for so many years, and you would have ended up all alone in the city anyway. So you caved, using up all the PTO you saved for the wedding, and took the rest of the year off from work.

Your designer luggage stood out like a sore thumb when it tumbled down the conveyor belt. You winced after watching the impact and snatched it up quickly. Glancing around, you saw a beacon in the storm: a familiar green, glowing sign in the distance - Starbucks. The line was long, but your flight was early, so you waited and got a latte, hoping it would lift your spirits a bit before you had to face your parents.

You tapped the side of your coffee cup anxiously as you rode the escalator down to the first floor, scanning the crowd for your mom and dad. There were a few people holding up signs with names on them, and when you saw the sign that said "Bucket" on it, you cringed.

Your dad's tall, round frame came into view when the people in front of him dispersed. He looked almost exactly the same, except a little greyer. Still sporting a shockingly full head of hair and his signature thick mustache, he grinned and pulled you into a warm hug.

"Really, Dad? 'Bucket'?"

"Well, that's what we call you, ain't it?" he said with a smile. You rolled your eyes and tried to be annoyed, but you had to admit that you were happy to see him.

"Where's Mom?" you asked.

"She's waitin' in the car, didn't wanna pay for parking so we're in a pick up zone, let's hustle," he said, wrapping his arm around you as he led you outside. "How was the flight?"

"Long," you said, then gasped when the cold air hit you. "Wow, I didn't think it would be this cold yet."

"It's been a cold one so far this year," he nodded, directing you to the left where you could see your mom smiling and waving from the passenger seat of their white SUV. You waved back and grinned. Maybe coming home wasn't such a bad idea, after all.

"Hiya, Bucky!" your mom said happily, leaning out of the window to give you a half hug while your dad loaded up your belongings in the back.

"Hey, Mom," you replied. "I like your sweater."

She was wearing one of her tacky Christmas sweaters that she wore every year - unironically. It amazed you how some things never change.

You climbed into the back seat as your dad carefully exited the parking spot and joined the line of cars that were slowly inching towards the main road.

"We're so glad you decided to come home this year, you can finally see the new house!" your mom said excitedly. They had built a brand new house, and the way she provided updates and pictures to you over the phone for the past year, you felt like you had already seen it.

"Yeah, can't wait," you said, staring out the window.

"Hope you don't mind, but we're throwin' a party tomorrow night," your dad said, glancing at you in the review mirror. "Wanted to have our friends over to see the place and have an early holiday party. They'll be so happy to see you, it's been so long since you've been home, Buck."

You had been hoping to spend most of the next three weeks in bed moping and scrolling on your phone. The thought of a party and seeing all those people looking at you with pity made your stomach turn. Your mom must have sensed your discomfort.

"It's alright, honey. They won't say anything," she said softly, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

"Okay," you replied, your voice pained as you opened your eyes to stare at the passing traffic on the thruway.

You'll make an appearance for an hour, and then try to sneak back upstairs until the party ends, already fabricating a headache to blame it on.

The house your parents built was impressive, even you had to admit. It was a two story colonial with four bedrooms and three bathrooms. The open floor plan was stunning as you made your way from room to room. The first floor alone had a spacious living room with vaulted ceilings, a kitchen with an attached dining room, and a separate family room off the back. There was even a small office by the front door that you missed the first time around, and a pantry as big as your closet back home.

You cringed at the thought, reminding yourself that it was no longer your home. That was part of the problem. You had moved in with Will, and when you discovered he had been cheating on you, you crashed at your friend Melanie's place. When you tearfully told your parents the news a few days later, they asked you to come home. Just for the holidays, your mom had said. Just to give you time to figure out your next move.

"This is beautiful, Mom," you said honestly, admiring the fine details on the cabinets.

"Thank you, sweetie. Took a long time, but Joel built it just right for us," she said, beaming.

"Oh, the contractor, right?" you replied, distracted now by the backsplash above the counters.

"He's such a sweet man, he was so patient with us when we changed our minds a million times over every little thing."

"Well, tell him he did a great job," you murmured, opening and shutting different drawers.

"You can tell him yourself, he'll be at the party tomorrow," your dad said, opening the fridge to scrounge for some snacks.

"You invited your contractor to your holiday party?" you asked in disbelief.

"Sure we did. We either saw him or spoke to him almost every single day for a year. He's a good man."

"Okay," you said slowly, still finding it a bit strange, but reminding yourself that things worked a little differently in the south.

"Bucket!" you heard your sister call from the front of the house. A smile plastered across your face instantly as you rushed to the door, both of you squealing as you wrapped your arms around each other and jumped in a circle, unable to contain your excitement.

"Cassie!" you said, pulling back to look at her, brushing her sleek, dark brown hair over her shoulder. "You look fantastic!"

"Ugh, I feel like shit," she said, and you laughed, glancing down at her barely swollen belly.

"How far along are you again?" you asked.

"Twenty weeks, but I'm ready for this to be over! I'm so tired all the time, it sucks," she said, flopping down on the couch in the living room after she gave your parents quick hugs.

"Where's Josh?" your mom asked, referring to your brother in law.

"He's still working, he'll be by later," Cassie said, waving her hand. "Gives us a chance to catch up," she added with a wink.

"You girls do that, we need to go to the store for tomorrow night. Do you need anything?" your mom asked, and you shook your head, eager for them to leave so you could be alone with your sister.

"Tell me everything," Cassie said the moment the door clicked shut.

If it were anyone else, you wouldn't have been in the mood to talk about the mess that was currently your life, but you've always been able to talk about anything with your sister. You trusted each other implicitly and there was no judgement, no matter if you had cheated on a test or gotten drunk during prom, you told each other everything.

So you did. You told her how for months, you felt like something was off with Will. How he would stay out late and say it was for work, but none of his work friends ever posted about going anywhere those nights on social media. He grew more distant and you tried to ignore your paranoia, but when he collapsed into bed one night, too out of it to wash up, and you saw the lipstick on his neck the next morning, you lost it. He hardly even tried to explain himself, barely even attempted to lie, and you began to think maybe he wanted to get caught. Maybe he wanted you to do the dirty work and end things so he didn't have to. Fucking coward.

"What a piece of shit. I never liked him," Cassie said when you were finished. "He acted like he was so much better than everyone when he was here, do you remember the comments he made about the wine mom had? It was so fucking rude."

"Yeah, I know," you agreed.

"So why were you even with him?"

"We had been together since college, Cas," you said, exasperated. "I knew him before he was like that. He used to be sweet and fun. Then he got that finance job and met all those assholes and he became just like them."

"Well, I'm just glad you didn't end up married before finding out what he's really like," she said, shifting her weight on the couch with her hand cupping her small stomach. "That would have been a huge mess."

"It's still a huge mess, I have no where to live now, and I can only couch surf for so long," you said, burying your face in your hands.

"You'll figure it out, Buck. I'll help you look for places online while you're here. Maybe set up some appointments so you can tour them when you get back."

"Thanks," you said, giving her a weak smile. "That would actually be great."

"Now, on to more important things," your sister said, slapping her palms against her knees to stand.

"Baby names?" you asked.

"No! Let's figure out what you'll wear to the party tomorrow," she said, wiggling her eyebrows. "I wanna look through all your fancy designer clothes."

You giggled and stood to join her.

"Fine, but I'm still dropping baby names while you look," you replied.

After spending a majority of the next day helping your parents decorate and prepare food for the party, you finally were able to excuse yourself to shower and get ready. Cassie had picked out a Ralph Lauren lace cocktail dress that Will had bought for your birthday last year. You slipped it on, running your hands over the fabric as you adjusted the dress in the mirror. Just because he bought it didn't mean you couldn't wear it again. You snatched the glass of wine from your dresser and took a sip, trying to push the thought of him from your head as you made your way downstairs.

Cassie and Josh were already in the kitchen, munching on appetizers and chatting with your parents. Cassie let out a low whistle when you entered the room. You waved her off and gave Josh a big hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Good to see you," you told him with a smile. "All ready for the baby?"

"Getting there," Josh replied, wrapping an arm around Cassie's waist. You tried to ignore the ugly, jealous pit in your stomach as he told you how the nursery was coming along. You wasted so many years of your life on Will. Your sister was already married and starting a family, and here you were, basically homeless and starting over. Pathetic.

Family friends slowly began to trickle into the house, luckily being whisked away by your parents to give them a tour after you meekly greeted them and hid back in the kitchen. As more and more people arrived, you began to wonder how your parents kept so many close friends when you barely had a handful back in New York.

A few kids raced by you in the kitchen as you made your way to the bar to refill your wine. Even though it was loud, you could still hear your dad's booming voice as he regaled a friend with a fishing story. You wandered around a bit, trying to find Cassie and Josh so you didn't look out of place, but stopped dead in your tracks when you saw them chatting with Mr. Tanner and his son, Troy, backing away before they could see you. Troy used to have the biggest crush on you when you were kids. If he found out you were single, you wouldn't be able to shake him all night.

You eventually found yourself alone, back in front of the snacks. You picked at the chips on your plate, not really interested in eating but hoping to avoid any awkward conversations, so you kept your eyes down, scrolling mindlessly on your phone. Apparently, it wasn't good enough because you felt someone sidle up next to you.

"Those any good?" a deep, unfamiliar drawl spoke from your side. You looked up to find the softest pair of brown eyes you've ever seen on a man. Blinking, you took a moment as your gaze raked over his patchy beard and the dark, tousled curls on his head. They looked so soft, you had to resist the urge to reach out and touch them. What was wrong with you?

"Huh?" you managed to squeak out after you realized you had waited too long to reply. Idiot.

"The, uh, chips," he said, pointing at your plate before rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh!" you said, looking at your plate, completely forgetting you even had it. "Yeah, they're alright."

He nodded and glanced around the room, unsure of what to say next. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"How do you know Paul and Martha?"

Distracted, you watched as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, stretching the fabric of his red flannel over his shoulders, pulling the material taught. You had to remind yourself to pay attention and stop gawking at this man like he was a piece of meat. Jesus, maybe you should stop drinking.

"They're my parents," you said after a moment, your eyes flicking across the room, finding them with a group of their friends with your dad's arm wrapped around your mom's shoulder as she giggled and gazed up at him adoringly.

"Oh, you're Cassie," the man said, his eyes dropping from your face to your stomach, and you swore you saw a glimmer of disappointment.

"No!" you said quickly, your hand subconsciously resting on your midsection. "That's my sister, I'm their other daughter." You told him your name and briefly explained you lived in New York and were just visiting for the holidays.

"They must be real happy, havin' you home for so long," he replied, and you shrugged.

"Yeah, it's been a while since I've come home for a visit. I was feeling pretty bad about that," you said, choosing to leave out the biggest reason you were there. This stranger didn't need to be burdened with your love life drama. "Besides, they were so excited to show off the new house," you continued, waving your arm around the room.

"Took us long enough, but it finally came together," he replied with a smile.

"Oh! You must be Joel," you said, realization finally dawning on you.

"Yeah, sorry," he said, shaking his head and stretching out his arm. "That was rude of me, don't know what I was thinkin'." His cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you shook his hand.

"My parents always have such wonderful things to say about you. The house is beautiful, I was blown away when I first saw it," you told him. "I especially love the little details on the cabinets."

"Thanks," he said with a soft smile, averting his gaze to look at the cabinet behind you. "I actually did that myself. It's kind of a hobby of mine. Closest to art I'll ever get, I guess."

"I don't think it's just 'close' to art, I think it is art. It's stunning," you told him, running your fingertips over the intricate floral design. "You're very talented."

"Well, thank you," he said sheepishly, rubbing his beard to hide his smile. You could see the blush creeping up his neck and you bit your lip with a grin, turning your head to try to give him a moment. Were you making him nervous? He was painfully good looking, could this guy actually be into you? Were you even interested? The break up was still so fresh and it had been so long since you've dated anyone besides Will, you hadn't even considered it yet.

"So, how long have you worked in construction?" you asked after a minute, discarding your plate on the counter to give him your full attention.

"Oh, my whole life. Me and my brother started the business when we were in our twenties. Only thing we were any good at, and luckily it pays the bills," he told you with a shrug, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "What do you-"

Joel's question was cut off by a young girl with curly brown hair in a red velvet dress bouncing up to him.

"Dad! Can Uncle Tommy take me outside so we can look at the pool?" she asked. Dad? You looked down when he pulled his hands out of his pockets, palming one of the girl's shoulders to quiet her down, and noticed the gold wedding band. Of fucking course.

"The pool? Sarah, it's freezin' out," Joel said, and she grinned.

"I'm not going in, Dad, I just wanna see," she said, rolling her eyes. She glanced over, noticing you for the first time, and smiled. "I really like your dress," she said.

"Thank you," you said, running your hand down the fabric. "I like yours, too."

"Uh, yeah, that's fine. Just make sure Uncle Tommy sticks with you, alright?" Joel relented, and she clapped her hands gleefully before running off again.

"She's cute, how old is she?" you asked him, looking around the room to see if Sarah had run back to a woman who could be Joel's wife.

"She's sixteen," he said, eyeing you carefully. He hadn't thought this far ahead and hoped he wasn't scaring you off.

You turned to him, startled, having guessed she was younger.

"You must have had her young," you said, the words slipping out before you could catch them. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that like it sounded-"

"No, it's alright," he said with a chuckle. "I did. I'm forty."

You nodded and took a sip from your glass, letting your eyes drift away, rethinking your conversation. Maybe you misread him and he was just being friendly. There was no way he would be flirting with you at a party with his kid right there. But then he cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him.

"Listen, I hope I'm not bein' too forward, but are you here with anyone?"

You raised your eyebrows at him over your glass. There was no misreading that. Blinking rapidly, you tried to formulate a reply that wouldn't cause a scene. Was he seriously hitting on you with a ring on his finger? You put your glass down on the counter and opened your mouth to reply when your sister's voice interrupted you.

"Bucket! Come here, you remember Troy, right?"

You cringed, at both the nickname and the person in question, before slowly turning your body towards her and forcing a fake smile.

"Of course. How are you?" you said with a hug.

"Doing great, just got a new job with a law firm downtown," Troy said, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans and shifting his weight nervously. He began to ramble about his new job as your sister introduced herself to Joel behind you. You resisted the urge to strangle her, reminding yourself she was carrying your baby niece or nephew and that you'll have to wait until after she gave birth to kill her. She knew you couldn't stand Troy, but she probably couldn't get rid of him, either.

You stood there, draining your wine glass while he prattled on for the next twenty minutes. By the time Troy's dad walked over and ushered him away, Joel was nowhere to be found.

Probably for the best, anyway. You were getting really sick and tired of only attracting unfaithful men.

You hadn't considered how annoying it would be to have your parents hovering around you all the time, worried that you were slipping into a depression and trying to get you to join them on activities outside the house. After you felt forced to go sledding with them the day before, you decided to make yourself scarce today, which is why you found yourself at the mall in downtown Austin browsing for a Christmas gift for your future niece or nephew.

As you were looking through a storefront window, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Taking it out, you saw a text from a friend back home.

Sydney: You'll never guess who i just bumped into

You were typing out your response, chin tucked into your chest, when you felt someone knock into you. Startled, you looked up only to lock eyes with Joel the contractor.

"Oh!" you managed to stammer out. His deep brown eyes lit up and a warm smile spread across his face when he looked up and recognized you.

"Sorry, wasn't payin' attention," he said. "How, uh, how are you?"

"Good," you said, nodding and clutching your phone in your hand. "You?"

"Good. Was actually just thinkin' about you," he admitted, looking down and shifting the bag he was carrying from one hand to the other. "Never got to say goodbye to you the other night."

"Yeah, it was pretty crowded. I didn't realize my parents were so popular," you joked. "Is Sarah with you?"

"No, she's in school," he replied, and you bumped the heel of your hand against your forehead, rolling your eyes. Of course she was, it's the middle of the day.

"Duh," you said quietly, finding it hard to hold his gaze without getting butterflies, so you looked away.

"So, uh, I hope this doesn't sound creepy, but I asked your sister if you were seein' anyone the other night," he began, and you felt your face instantly heat up. Why didn't Cassie warn you?? "-was wonderin' if I could get your number."

"Huh?" you asked, your eyes widening as you tried to control your breathing. You glanced down at his hand again when he looked away and saw he was definitely wearing a ring.

"Thought we could go out sometime? If you're interested?" he asked, his own nerves wreaking havoc as he shifted his weight and chewed on the inside of his cheek, praying his face wasn't as red as it felt.

"Are you serious?" you asked him, narrowing your eyes. The audacity of some men!

"'Course I'm serious," he said with a nervous smile. "Thought we hit it off the other night-"

"Joel, listen. I'm not going to say what I'm really thinking for the sake of my parents and everything you did for them, but I am not interested in dating married men," you said with a scowl. He frowned, giving you a confused look before you turned on your heel and stormed away, joining the crowd of Christmas shoppers bustling by.

He looked down at his hand, making a tight fist before swiveling his head around, trying to locate you in the crowd before he lost you.

"Hey, wait!" he called out, pushing past clusters of people as he jogged to try and keep up with you. He called out your name as he got closer. You stopped suddenly but didn't turn around, causing surprised shoppers to have to redirect at the last minute to avoid running into you.

"Hey, I'm sorry-"

"You should apologize to your wife!" you said loudly, causing a few people to turn their heads in your direction as they walked past. Joel looked around nervously.

"I'm not married," he clarified quietly. You looked down at his hand again and he flexed his fingers.

"Can we get a coffee or somethin'? And I'll explain," he begged, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each second that passed as you considered your answer. "Please."

"Fine," you agreed, and his face relaxed once again.

You sat down at a coffee shop within Barnes and Noble as Joel ordered you both something to drink. As you watched him at the counter, you admired his long legs and broad shoulders underneath his brown coat and wondered what possible excuse he was going to come up with.

Oh my god, what if she died?

You rubbed your eyes, hoping you didn't just insult a widower in the middle of a crowded mall.

Joel joined you at the table and set your coffee down in front of you with a smile.

"Thank you," you said softly, fiddling with the cup and avoiding his eyes as he shrugged his coat off, revealing a navy blue V-neck sweater underneath. Your eyes drifted to the small patch of bare chest that was exposed and your stomach clenched. Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to meet his gaze, but he was staring down at his ring finger.

"I'm not married anymore, just wanna make that crystal clear," he began, still staring at his ring.

"Okay," you said slowly, waiting for him to continue. He sighed.

"We've been divorced for a few years now," he said, finally looking at you. "It was... hard. Really hard. I, uh," he scratched his beard as he struggled to find the words. "I've had a tough time lettin' go. Thought for a while we might get back together, so I didn't take it off. Then I guess I just got so used to it, I never thought... I'm sorry, I sound like a mess," he said with a sad smile.

"It's alright, I think I understand," you told him, and he looked at you with renewed optimism, encouraged to continue.

"I never took it off because I never thought 'bout askin' anyone out til now," he said. "Didn't realize how that would come across, you just took me by surprise that night and I couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you."

You blushed and looked down at your coffee, trying to hide your smile behind your cup, but he saw it and grinned.

"Are you still in love with her?" you asked him. You didn't want to get wrapped up in something that would end up hurting you in the end.

"No," he said firmly. "I mean, I'll always care for her. She gave me Sarah, how could I not? But I'm not in love with her anymore."

You nodded as you absorbed his words, glancing around the little coffee shop before dragging your eyes back to his. He was looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to ask anything else that would make you comfortable with accepting a date from him.

"Well, thank you for being honest with me, but I'm not sure I'm ready for a relationship just yet."

Joel tried to hide the disappointment in his face as he nodded in understanding. The first time in five years he asked someone out and he got shot down.

"It's not you," you clarified. "It's bad timing. I just got out of a really long term relationship. Well, I was actually engaged, and I caught him cheating," you explained with a wince, not expecting to bring this up today. "Probably why I was so sensitive about the wedding ring," you said with a half smirk. He nodded quietly and looked down at the ring on his hand, twisting the metal around with the pad of his thumb as you spoke.

"Sounds like we've both been through a tough time," he murmured, and you quietly agreed.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping your coffees and trying to figure out how to end this awkward interaction without making things worse. You were going to lie about having plans so you could leave when he suddenly spoke up.

"No pressure, but, uh, what if we just went on one very casual date?" He looked at you with those soft, brown eyes and you felt your resolve crumbling. "Sounds like we could both use some practice. You're leavin' at the end of the month anyway. Could just be fun, help get us both back out there."

You paused, not expecting that. He had a good point. It's been so long since you've gone on a date with anyone, and it sounded like he was just as rusty. Besides, what else would you be doing with your time over the next three weeks?

"Okay," you agreed softly. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, parting his lips slightly as he straightened up in his chair.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you said with a grin. "Why not?"

Early the next morning, you heard your phone buzz on the nightstand next to your bed. With a groan, you cracked an eye open to look at the time, then reached for your phone.

"7:30? Who the hell..." you grumbled, squinting at the bright screen, your eyes widening when you saw Joel's name. You sat up in bed, fully awake now, and slid the notification over to open the text.

Joel Miller: Morning. Are you free tonight?

You grinned, flicking on your light so you could see better to respond, then you paused. Should you make him wait before replying? Would you look too desperate if you answered right away?

You shrugged, deciding to answer him. It was casual, you both knew it wouldn't go anywhere, so who cares how it looked?

You: Good morning, you're up early! And yes, what did you have in mind?

You chewed your thumb nail as you waited for his answer.

Joel Miller: This is nothing, I've been up since 5. For some reason, clients expect me to be at job sites early. How about ice skating?

You giggled and tapped out a reply.

You: I'd love to!

Joel Miller: Great - I'll pick you up at 7

Realizing you forgot to reply to Sydney the day before, you switched messages and shot her a quick answer before sliding back down under the covers to scroll on your phone.

You resisted the urge as long as you could - a whole fifteen minutes - before you typed Joel's name into Facebook. His name popped up with two mutual friends and you rolled your eyes. Of course your parents were friends with him. Clicking on his name, you scrolled down his page, tapping through photos of him and Sarah that looked out of date. He didn't seem like the type to update social media often, and his page reflected that hunch. He didn't have many pictures so it didn't take long until you scrolled all the way to the end, presumably his first photo from when he joined. It was a grainy picture of him with a huge smile and his arm slung around a woman with dark, curly hair, just like Sarah's.

She was pretty, you couldn't deny that, and you vaguely wondered why they broke up. He made it sound like he didn't want a divorce, and you figured he would have mentioned cheating since you brought it up.

You closed the app. If Joel wanted to tell you, he would.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you made your way downstairs on the hunt for coffee. Pouring yourself a cup from the machine, you burrowed into the couch, wrapping yourself in a blanket as you waited for your coffee to cool down and flipped through the various streaming services your parents subscribed to.

"Hey Buck, you're up early," your dad said as he descended the stairs and headed to the coffee.

"Hey, Dad," you said, taking a sip from your mug and wincing as you burned your tongue.

"What're you up to today? You wanna come to dinner with your mom and me?"

"Actually, I have a date," you told him, bracing for the reaction.

"Whoa-ho! Been here not even a week and you got yourself a date? Don't tell me... Troy?" he asked with a big grin, sitting down at the other end of the couch.

"Ew, no!" you said, scrunching your nose. "It's, um, Joel," you said quickly, taking another sip from your mug.

"Our contractor?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, we met at the party," you told him. "Then I ran into him at the mall."

"Ran into who at the mall?" you heard Cassie's voice from down the hall.

"When did you get here?" you asked as she rounded the corner and gazed at your coffee enviously.

"Just now. Who did you see at the mall?"

"Joel," you said, glaring at her. "Got something to tell me about that?"

"Oh, yeah," she said, wiggling her eyebrows. "He was asking about you at the party. I made sure to let him know you were single."

"Yeah, he told me, thanks for the heads up, by the way," you said. "We're going out tonight."

"I didn't realize he was single, I just assumed he was married because he's always got Sarah around," your dad said, beginning to zone out to the movie that was on the TV.

"He's single," was all you said, picking your phone back up.

"He's cute," Cassie said, and you blushed. "I'm glad you said yes, mom and dad already love him, so he'll fit right in."

"I don't even live here. It's a casual thing, we're just hanging out," you told her.

"Yeah, okay," she said, giving you a wink. You rolled your eyes and pinched her as you passed by.

"I'm going to shower, then maybe you can help me pick out something to wear," you told her over your shoulder, walking back upstairs.

Joel arrived at your parents' house promptly at 7, just as he promised. He pulled into the driveway, checking his hair in the review mirror quickly before sliding out of his truck and making his way up the porch. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this nervous as he glanced down a the green flannel he wore, praying he didn't miss a button or a stain. He was with his ex for so long that he could barely remember a time when he was nervous around her.

But with you, he felt the butterflies the moment he saw you at the party. You didn't notice him at first, but he saw you enter the living room and freeze in the doorway, your eyes locked on someone across the room before backing out the way you came, as if you were looking to avoid them. He couldn't catch who it was, having hardly known more than five people in the whole house, but he felt compelled to follow you. To see if you were maybe looking for a husband or boyfriend. But when he saw you alone in the kitchen, staring down at your phone, he couldn't stop himself from saying something to you.

Joel never did things like that. He always kept to himself, very quiet and reserved. He was content with his work during the day and hanging out with Sarah at night.

For the most part, he was happy. It was only at night when the loneliness crept up, when he tucked himself into his big, cold bed and tried his best to fall asleep as fast as he could, so he wouldn't lay there wishing someone who cared for him was just in the bathroom washing up.

Tommy had been encouraging him to get back out there, always offering to watch Sarah if he caught Joel looking a little too long at a waitress or a neighbor. Sarah was old enough to be on her own for a few hours, but he still asked Tommy to stop by, anyway. Maybe part of him wanted his brother to know that he was going on a date, if only so he would stop trying to set him up all the time with women he had no interest in.

Joel reached out to ring the doorbell, cringing when he noticed it was one of those camera doorbells. Paul must have installed it after the house was finished. He heard heavy footsteps on the other side of the door and held his breath, realizing he hadn't thought about your dad's reaction to your date.

Paul swung the door open, greeting Joel with a deep scowl as he leaned up against the doorframe.

"What's up, Joel?" he asked. Joel cleared his throat.

"Hey, Paul. I'm here to pick up your daughter," Joel replied, bracing himself. Paul just stared at him, breathing deeply as he looked Joel up and down. Joel wasn't a small man, but Paul had at least sixty pounds on him. He tended to have an intimidating look until you got to know him.

"Oh, yeah? For what?" Paul asked, clenching his jaw. Joel froze, wondering if there was a reason you didn't tell your parents about tonight, unsure what to say. Finally, Paul's face broke into a huge smile as he began to crack up, doubling over at the waist.

"I'm sorry, Joel, I had to," he wheezed, standing back up and clapping Joel on the shoulder. "Couldn't help myself. Come on in," he said, still laughing as he led Joel down the hall and towards the kitchen.

"Jesus, Paul, scared the shit outta me," Joel admitted, his heart racing as he rubbed his forehead.

"Beer?" Paul asked, and Joel shook his head.

"No thanks, I'm drivin'," he replied, and Paul raised his eyebrows with a nod.

"Good man, passed the first test," he said with a wink as he twisted open a beer for himself. "Hey, uh, in all seriousness, I just wanna talk with you before she comes down."

"Yeah, 'course," Joel replied, leaning up against the counter.

"I ain't sure what she's told you about the asshole she was with before, but he really hurt her. Now, I know it ain't got nothin' to do with you, what's in the past is in the past," he said. "But just keep that in mind, will you? I can't stand seein' my little girl hurt like that again."

Joel nodded solemnly, understanding completely.

"I ain't like that, I'll be respectful, I promise," Joel replied. "Besides, we both know she's goin' back to New York in a few weeks. We're just gettin' to know each other, is all."

"Yeah, she said the same thing to her sister earlier, but then she spent all damn day on the phone, pickin' out an outfit and gettin' herself ready," Paul said with a sigh. "I'm just sayin', be careful with her."

Joel felt a flutter in his chest and tried to hide his smile when he found out you had been thinking about him all day. He was glad he wasn't the only one.

"I hope you weren't waiting long," you told Joel as he backed out of your driveway.

"Not at all," he said with a smirk. "You're worth the wait. You look beautiful." He glanced down again at the light pink sweater with a small designer logo he was unfamiliar with in the corner.

You blushed and bit your lip, quietly thanking him and trying to hide your reaction behind your scarf, but he saw it. He always does.

Now that he knew you were looking forward to this date just as much as he was, he felt a little more confident.

"Did you have a good day?" he asked, giving you a sideways glance as he merged his truck into traffic.

"Yeah, did you?"

"It was alright," he said, slowing the truck down at a stop light. He turned to face you now. "Couldn't wait to see you, though."

You turned a darker shade of pink and he smiled, pleased to see that he could elicit that reaction from you, the same way you do to him.

"So, ice skating?" you said, trying to take the heat off of you. You looked at his hands on the steering wheel, noticing he made sure to take his ring off.

"Yeah," he said, pressing his foot on the gas as the light changed. "Thought you could teach me somethin'."

"Teach you? How do you know if I can even skate?" you asked teasingly.

"Just a hunch. Was I right?" he replied, his mouth turning up into a half smirk. You giggled and he felt his stomach tighten. He needed to hear that again.

"Yeah, you were right," you relented. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth and slapped the steering wheel in victory, making you giggle again, and his chest filled with warmth at the sound.

"Where's Sarah tonight?" you asked him as he pulled into a parking spot at the skating rink.

"My brother's watchin' her," he replied, disappointed that you got out of the truck so quickly. He had planned on opening the door for you.

"Does she like to ice skate?" you questioned as he led you inside to the counter to rent your skates.

"Oh, of course she does. But I usually sit it out and just watch her have fun," he said, picking up your rentals and heading over to a bench.

"You should have brought her, I wouldn't have minded."

"We don't have to talk 'bout her, you know," he said quicky, and your fingers froze over your laces.

"Why wouldn't we talk about her? She's your daughter," you asked slowly, straightening back up to look at him.

"No, I know. What I mean is, I know it ain't every woman's fantasy to go out with a single dad and all the baggage that comes with that. So, if you don't wanna talk about her, I get it," he said, casting his eyes down as he focused on tying his laces. You reached out a hand and gently placed it on top of his, immediately making him freeze at your touch.

"She's part of your life, so I want to hear about her. You shouldn't think like that, Joel. It's really not a dealbreaker for most women," you assured him, gently rubbing your thumb over his knuckles, his eyes glued to your hand as he listened. "And if it is, fuck 'em."

His eyes snapped up to yours now, then a slow smile spread across his face.

"Okay," he said softly, and you smiled, pulling your hand back, leaving him wanting more.

"Besides," you said, standing up on your skates as you made your way to the rink. "You have no idea what kind of fantasies I have."

You turned to give him a wink as you effortlessly stepped out onto the ice, holding out your hands encouragingly for him to follow. It was a miracle he was able to move his legs after that comment, but he managed just because he knew he would feel your warm hands on his again.

Joel was a quick study. He was nervous at first, you could tell that he didn't want to embarrass himself, but he did surprisingly good. Especially considering how crowded the ice rink was and how fast people were skating by. After about half an hour, he was able to skate - albeit, slowly - around the rink next to you without any assistance. Part of you wondered if he pretended to need more help than he really did just so it would make you feel good.

"So, anyway, that's basically what I do for work. It's pretty boring," you said with a sigh.

"Not boring. Marketing in New York City sounds like a dream," he replied.

"Yeah, except I work on all the behind the scenes stuff. It's not really as fun as it sounds," you admitted, not missing work in the slightest since you've been back in Texas.

"Well, d'you work with some fun people, at least?"

You paused, considering his question for a moment, before shaking your head with a dry laugh.

"Not really," you said, but he still tried to help you find a reason why you would put up with it.

"You were able to take off almost a whole month, that's pretty great. Not many places'll let you do that, can't be that bad," he offered, and you scoffed.

"It's the time I saved up for the wedding I was supposed to have," you told him sadly, and he groaned.

"I'm knockin' it outta the park tonight, ain't I?" he said, rubbing his face before almost losing his balance. You giggled and he couldn't stop the huge grin that plastered itself across his face.

"It's fine, you didn't know," you said, waving him off. And for the first time, you really didn't mind talking about it. Something about him made it easier.

"What'dya say we get some hot chocolate?" Joel asked, jutting his chin towards the vendor where you first came in.

"Yeah, that sounds great," you replied. Joel turned towards the exit without looking when a teenage boy, who was speed skating around the rink trying to impress a girl, smacked right into him, sending him flying backwards on the ice.

"Joel!" you exclaimed, rushing to his side. He groaned, rubbing the back of his head.

"Hey, why don't you watch it!" you yelled angrily at the teenager, who had managed to only stumble a bit upon impact.

"Sorry, man," the kid mumbled before taking off.

"I'm gonna kick his ass," you said, about to stand up to go after him, but Joel reached up to grip your arms, holding you in place.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," he said with a chuckle. Sweetheart. Your heart skipped a beat at the term.

"Are you sure?" you asked, your brow furrowed with concern.

"Yeah, just gimme a hand," he said, and you stood to give his arm a firm yank, allowing him to stand.

"Let's get you off the ice," you told him, ushering him carefully to the exit and finding a bench.

"Does your head hurt?" you asked, sitting down next to him. Your fingers reached up to graze the back of his head.

"No," he said breathlessly, staring at you as you continued to study him for any injury. God, you were so beautiful, he couldn't force himself to look away.

"That's good. How about your vision?" you pressed, still so focused on the fall and not seeing the way he was looking at you. But when you finally locked your eyes on his, your breath caught in your throat.

All the laughter and playful yelling surrounding you faded. You couldn't look away from his heated gaze, his deep brown eyes boring into yours so intensely, you almost forgot to blink. He brought his hand up to gently cradle the side of your face, his calloused palm meeting your soft skin. Your lips parted to accommodate your sudden need for more oxygen, and his gaze fell to your mouth.

"Joel," you whispered, and the way his name sounded coming from you was so damn sweet, it almost did him in.

"Yeah?" he whispered back, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Kiss me."

He didn't need to be told twice.

He leaned forward, eyes sliding shut and slotting his lips against yours, deeply breathing in your scent so he could remember it tomorrow. He was determined to commit every second to memory, knowing that by morning he would be aching for you, aching for this. Against his better judgement, he pressed himself into your lips harder, unsure if he will ever get to feel like this again when you inevitably came to your senses. The idea of this feeling being taken away from him spurred him on, desperate and eager for every second you were willing to give him.

Your hand came up to the back of his neck, holding him against you as his lips massaged yours tenderly. You inched closer to him on the bench so you could tuck yourself into his broad chest. He was so warm and soft and strong that it was making you dizzy. Your fingertips stroked the curls at the base of his neck as you tentatively opened your mouth just enough to suck his lower lip between yours. The quiet noise he made when you did that made your insides clench with need, and against all odds, you felt yourself falling, completely losing yourself in him and the moment.

A startling voice over the loudspeaker announcing that the rink was closing in fifteen minutes finally snapped you out of it. You both pulled back but kept your foreheads pressed together as the world around you slowly melted back into focus. His hand still cupped your face and he lifted his thumb to gently trace your swollen lips.

"I should take you home," he murmured. At first, your stomach flipped, thinking he meant his home, but you realized he wasn't that type and he meant your parents' house.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and you sat back reluctantly, breaking away. His hand dropped from your face to the hand in your lap, his thick fingers wrapping around yours for a moment as he collected himself with a deep breath.

Finally, he forced himself to stand, still clutching your hand and helping you up. You glanced down at the floor and smirked.

"We should probably take our skates off," you said, and he chuckled, breaking the tension and sitting back down, his hand reluctantly letting go of yours to undo his laces.

After you turned in your rentals, his hand quickly found yours again, unwilling or unable to let you go as he led you back to his truck, this time making sure to open the car door for you. Thanking him quietly, you jumped up into the cab and watched him round the front of the car, running a hand through his hair and sucking in deep breath.

You grinned and bit your lip as he started the truck, swinging his arm around to grip your headrest and twisting his body to back out of the spot. It took everything in you not to scoot across the seat and tuck yourself into his side.

He let his arm drop loosely on the seat in between you as he drove down the street, one hand on the steering wheel. Your fingers inched forward, sliding your palm underneath his hand, lacing your fingers together. The corners of his mouth tugged into a smile and you drove in a comfortable silence, your hands intertwined the whole time, until he pulled into your driveway and cut the engine.

You sighed as you stared at the darkened house, already missing him and he wasn't even gone yet. He peered over at you, trying to think of a way to prolong the date, but aside from the obvious, which he wasn't going to do just yet, he was coming up empty.

"Lemme walk you up," he said finally, and you nodded, reaching for the handle of the door but he stopped you. You furrowed your brow, confused, until you watched him rush over to open the door, and you grinned, taking his hand so you could slide out of the seat.

You stared at the ground as he led you up the path to the porch, your heart pounding in your ears. You weren't sure what you had been expecting tonight, but it definitely wasn't this feeling. This was so much more.

"Well, thank you for tonight," you said as you reached the door, turning around to look up at him through your lashes. "I had a really good time."

"Yeah, me too," he said, his soft, brown eyes trailing over your face, locking away every little detail. Unable to resist, he stepped forward, his rough hand skimming around to the back of your neck. He tilted your face up, ducking down slightly to meet you halfway and brushed his lips gently over yours.

Your hands flew up to grip the collar of his flannel, keeping him pressed against you as you leaned against the front door. God, for someone who claimed to be rusty, he was a really good kisser. He was gentle and slow and it took your breath away both times. You knew you were getting in over your head, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. All you could think about was him and how badly you wanted more.

Nervously, you opened your mouth and flicked your tongue against his plush lips. He responded by parting his lips and allowing your tongue to dance with his own, his mouth applying more pressure than before as the heat flared between you.

Before you could stop it, a soft moan rumbled from your throat, causing him to pull back, panting slightly as his gaze flickered between your eyes. You gazed up at him, eyes dark and desperate, your fingers still gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly.

You weren't sure what he was searching for, but after a moment he seemed to find it because his mouth came crashing down on yours once again, this time with more yearning and desire. His tongue probed inside your mouth, licking past your teeth and in the back of your mind you realized he tasted faintly of mint and you wondered when on earth he popped a mint into his mouth but it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered except the two of you in that moment, each seeking something within the other that you never expected to find.

His chest ached knowing he would have to stop kissing you soon, or else he would never leave. He always considered himself a strong man, after everything he had been through, how could he not? But something about you made him realize he wasn't nearly as strong as he thought. Your lips were so soft compared to his, so sweet and perfect that it made him want to cry because in that moment, he knew he could never let you go.

3K notes · View notes

bubbly-parker · 4 months ago

Text

Isaac Request

Requested? Yes

Isaac Lahey x witch afab Reader

I didn't know if you wanted pure fluff of smut too so this is pure fluff I think I will add a second Chapter with smut, tonight or tomorrow. If anyone has any ideas what to add please drop them in my inbox <3333

Prompts:

4. "I'm staying. Stop fighting me.”

9. "let me take care of you

The reader thinks Isaac doesn't like her, but he's just awful at showing his feelings.

Since the reader doesn't have healing abilities like the rest of them Isaac never wants them to come with them because it stresses him out too much, he feels the need to protect her and he can’t fight and keep an eye on her at the same time

The reader thinks Isaac sees her as a burden but he is in loooooooove

Challenge: take a shot everytime i wrote Isaac.

Spoiler:

“Don't even start again. Just let me help without complaining for once.”

A small “why” was all you could muster in return, too tired to start a whole argument. “What do you mean, why? To make sure you're fine, obviously."

“In case you haven't noticed, but it's always me looking after you.”

You woke up on your living room couch, halfway slumped over the side, with a pounding head and blurry vision. You couldn't remember getting home; all you remembered was a pretty bad fight.

I should have just stayed out of there.

But of course, you could never stay out of other people's business. No one in Beacon Hill could. Supernatural was drawn to supernatural.

When you changed schools, you didn't expect your parents to drop you off, and ending up immediately running into a WHOLE PACK of werewolves. You kept your head down and walked right past them as if they didn't exist.

You are a witch, so you smell like an average human to them, but they can’t fool you being born a witch. Your third eye has always been open, and they can’t hide their true forms from you.

One day during lunch, you overheard some of their troubles—of course, you weren't eavesdropping...

you'd never..

From what you gathered, they needed a rare plant that happened to grow in your witch mother’s garden.

You've only been here for a few weeks but befriended Allison and Lydia quickly, so you understood the pack was keeping the town safe and are no danger, of course, they didn't know that you had already seen through them, but you felt the need to help them regardless.

You heard them talking about meeting up after school, so you dropped a tracking stone in Lydia's bag during class when she wasn't looking so you could find her later. In hindsight, you should have maybe just approached them instead of using Lydia to stalk them, but you aren't exactly the most extroverted, so they would have to deal, you thought.

Later that day, you went home and plucked the flower from your mom’s garden while she was still out. Back in your room, you placed the second tracking stone on your map, and it moved exactly to where Lydia was at that moment.

Back then, on that day, you should have learned to mind your business, but whatever

You got out of your car in the middle of the woods, a map and a mason jar with your flower in your hand, looking for Lydia when you heard screaming.

A fight was happening in the middle of the woods, and you ran right into it.

“The fuck are you doing here?” You turned around to see a rather angry Isaac right behind you, unsure whether he had turned since you pretty much always saw through their facade. You could feel the anger rolling off of him. Taking a step back as he took on forward, you pushed your hand out, shoving the jar under his nose while avoiding his eyes. You said nothing.

Isaac accused you of spying on them and trying to sabotage them, but thankfully Stiles stumbled towards you guys, perplexed by your appearance but thankful either way he took the flower and did god knows what with it.

Ever since that you involuntary became a part of the pack. You told them how you knew from the first time you set foot in the school, but Isaac didn't trust you and kept his distance. Now, a year later, close to graduation, you still end up coming to the rescue every single time together with Stiles. You're keeping the boat from sinking, really.

And that's why you found yourself in your current position. You came to the rescue again. Some sicko alpha was rampaging through the woods, and while you were laying a trail of mountain ash, he attacked you from behind, scratching open your side and throwing you through the night sky, lovely.

You didn't register any pain at first, but now that you're coming to be, your entire side is burning, and your head is pounding even stronger.

You don't know who got you home, but you could hear water running in your guest bath down the hall, so with a shaky breath, you pushed yourself up to make your way over to the bathroom, but your vision got blurry, and you had to lean on the armrest.

“What are you doing? Sit back down.” Isaac came rushing towards you and helped you sit back down. You didn't know who to expect, but it wasn't Isaac.

Over the last year, Isaac had warmed up to you a little—not that you could tell, but that's what the others kept saying.

To you, Isaac still seemed closed off, but you wrote it off as it being his personality.

He didn't want you to come today. He protested profusely at lunch, saying that there was nothing you could help with anyway and that you were just putting yourself in danger. You knew that you probably should have sat this one out, but Stiles was feeling under the weather, and you didn't like that Isaac made you feel like a child.”

“I can take care of myself. I'm not a child,” you told Isaac, who acted like you would just be a burden. You feared he might have been right.

Now that he was in your home, treating you like a child again made you angry. One day, he was nice to you—distant but still somewhat nice—giving you class notes when you were sick even though you were sure he never took notes. He shrugged it off like it was no big deal, and then he acted like a first-class jerk again.

To be real, his cold-shoulder, mysterious attitude had you crushing a little at first, but when you realized that he only cold-shouldered you and Stiles, it just felt like he was excluding you.

While you could be more of a help to your friends if you would be focusing on spell crafting like your mom instead of potion making, it comes in handy in times like this where your healing salves would aid your healing process, not having the natural advanced healing of a werewolf.

You take a staggered breath in, grind your teeth together, and got moving.

“You’re shitting me right now; you shouldn't move in this condition.”

Ignoring Isaac, you moved towards your hallway, one hand on the wall stabilizing you.

“I mean it, Isaac, just leave. I brought this onto myself anyway."

But instead of Isaac leaving, you could hear him move towards you.

You went to turn around. “ Wh-

Before you could even start, Isaac picked you up.

Paralyzed from the shock of what was happening, you just gasped up at Isaac like a fish as he carried you to your bedroom. He placed you down on your bed, and without looking at you, he immediately turned away. Your eyes followed his figure as he moved towards the other side of your room, where you kept your potion cabinet.

“Which one is that healing stuff you gave Allison last time?” You just looked at Isaac, not quite understanding why he was still here.

“the purple container that says Clinique” (reduce, reuse, recycle old containers)

Isaac moved back over to the bed. You sat up and took the salve from him.

You waited for him to leave so you could lift your shirt and apply the salve but Isaac sat down next to you.

“I'll help you." Isaac moved closer and tried to lift the side of your shirt, but you flinched back—wrong idea. A stabbing pain ran up your side and temporarily made your vision go black.

One part of your brain enjoyed the idea of taking your whole shirt off in front of Isaac—maybe that small part that still had a crush on him—but the other side didn't even want to slightly lift it.

“I can do it, Isaac; seriously, I'm not getting naked in front of you,” you glared at Isaac the best you could. "You don't need to be here.”

In reality, you didn't look mean at all, the pain too clear in your expression, and your wound far too concerning in Isaac's eyes. “You’re not getting naked; I just need to rub this on, and in case you haven't noticed, you're not even wearing your own shirt, so I won't see anything I haven’t already.”

You looked down at your own body and noticed he's right; the shirt you left the house in is long gone; instead, your blood is soaking into the shirt Isaac wore earlier under his jacket.

While you were distracted, Isaac quickly applied the slave to one hand and went under your shirt. As he went to apply it, you still tried to wriggle out of his hold; you don't know why you did it. You could tell that Isaac, for whatever reason, just wanted to help you.

Nice Isaac was complicated. It made the irrational side of your brain fuzzy, and maybe one small butterfly woke up in your stomach. "I'm staying. Stop fighting me and let me help you, goddamit.”

Isaac’s grip tightened around your waist. You couldn't go anywhere. As he rubbed the salve around your wound, he decided not to lift your shirt and just moved his hand under it.

You titled your head to look at Isaac; his eyes moved from your middle to your face. “Is this okay?” he asked while looking into your eyes.

You nodded your head, not sure what to say. This side of Isaac was weird; technically, you should be happy. This caring side is what you dreamed about months ago when you started crushing on the mysterious wolf, but he made it so incredibly hard on you by always treating you like a little kid.

When Isaac was done, he got up off the bed, washed his hands, and put the salve back where it belonged.

You dropped back on your bed, facing the ceiling, energy fading. You couldn't even move up the bed, legs still dangling off.

Isaac came back to your side and kneeled. He started taking your boots off; you felt too exhausted to even lift your feet to help him.

You groaned, thinking about how Isaac would use this against you for all eternity to prove that you are nothing but a danger to yourself.

“Don't even start again. Just let me help without complaining for once.”

Okay, that wasn't what you expected.

A small “why” was all you could muster in return, too tired to start a whole argument.

“What do you mean, why? To make sure you're fine, obviously."

You didn't really understand what Isaac was on about.

“In case you haven't noticed, but it's always me looking after you.”

You tried to make sense of his words when a conversation you had with Lydia came back to mind; you brushed it off, but Lydia had said something about Isaac always being way too close to you, not in a literal way, but if you were walking in a group, he was next to you walking on the side next to the road, and if you split up in groups, Isaac was always with you, and now today.

wait

“How did you find me? You were supposed to be at the other end of the woods?” You asked Isaac, who gave no reply. He was supposed to be with Allison as backup and setting up traps.

Isaac had put your shoes next to your wardrobe and came back to the side of your bed to help you move fully onto the bed.

“Isaac?”

“I was going to go in position once you were inside the Mountain Ash Circle... But then he came out of nowhere. I was too focused on you to notice him. I'm sorry.” Now you knew Isaac wasn't a man of many words, but you realized that Lydia might have been a little right; Isaac was always watching you.

A blush crept up on your cheeks, but you couldn't quite believe the conclusion you were drawing here.

“Oh,”

Isaac looked down at you lying on your back. "I’m bad at this talking thing, okay?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact now.

“it’s okay” You patted the space beside you on the bed and signaled Isaac to sit or lay down. You realized it must have been pretty late, or early? You looked at your alarm clock 2:43 am; well, not too bad.

You felt the bed dip beside you as Isaac laid down on his side next to you, somehow facing you but still avoiding looking at you, fascinating.

“Thank you, Isaac." Your eyes met, and the usually confident Isaac suddenly looked everything but that.

He brushed a strand of hair out of your face with his hand. “Just let me take care of you from now on, okay?” he asked.

Okay, more than one butterfly woke up again. You nodded your head and tried to scoot closer to Isaac; instead, he wrapped his arms around you and did the work for you by pulling you in. “Will you stay?” you said as Isaac moved to sit up. “Of course, but you should change your shirt; it’s bloody.”

“You mean I should change youuur shirt?” you purred. You smiled at Isaac and pointed to your chair, where your PJs were lying. He reached over and gave you your shirt.

“Can you help me get this off?” You sat up; your side was healing. You could feel the wound closing up faster than humanly possible, but it still ached.

Isaac helped you lift your arms as little as possible as he lifted your shirt above your head.

Shivers ran down your spine, but you didn't feel uncomfortable. He helped you put your clean shirt back on and moved you to lie down with him, setting the blanket over you two.

You laid together in silence, your back pressed to Isaac’s chest; you could feel his breath on top of your head; you should sleep, but your emotions were running wild, and you didn't want this moment, these feelings, to end.

As if he could read your thoughts, Isaac said, “I’ll still be here in the morning. You can sleep.”

He kissed the top of your head, and you drifted off to sleep. Today's events were a little too much.

#isaac lahey #teen wolf #teen wolf stiles #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey fluff #isaac lahey imagine #fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #werewolf x reader #werewolf boyfriend #werewolves #witch reader

185 notes · View notes

swoofllia · 4 months ago

Text

THE PROJECT.

-ˋˏ✄┈ #Vance Hopper x Reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ PAIRING/PAIRINGS : Vance Hopper x Fem! Reader.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ FORMAT : Series.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ SUMMARY OF CHAPTER : Y/N and Vance were partnered up for a project. Obviously, both of them did not want to be together because of an incident that happened two summers ago. But were there any other choices? And what other surprise would await Y/N later on the day?

♺ TW ! : Mentions of fighting, cuss words, bruises, wounds, brusies, scars, blood, threats, abuse, kidnappings, and more.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♺ AUTHORS NOTE ! : I just want to say that English is not my first language and that there is a scene (where Y/N is complaining to her best friend) inspired from a Vance H. fic called Pinball, Hair, and Detention by ellemfaoh! Please go check it out. It's so good! Also, there will be some 70s slang in the fic, so I will give you the meaning of it down below!

↓

𓍯 Hairy eyeball - If someone were to give you the hairy eyeball, it would mean they're shooting you a nasty or menacing stare.

Enjoy your stay ! :)

CHAPTER I - What A Day.

NORTH DENVER - 1977.05.27.

"And... Vance and Y/N! You two will be the last assigned pair for this upcoming project." Said, Mr. Hall. You froze at the news. You hated Vance. Well.. Not exactly hate. It was more of a dislike type of way. From your side, at least. Long story short, when you moved to town before first grade, you both became friends. But because of an incident two summers ago that everyone in the school knew about, everything went upside down. Though the feeling was mutual. Vance felt the same way about you, too.

Now you are just a girl who loves painting, writing, and reading poetry, has betrayal trauma, while some idiotic kids at school try to pester you and whatnot. You have tried to ignore them, but could you ignore an annoying sound like their voices? No.

Needless to say, both of the teenagers wanted to be switched with someone else. Even if it's with the most stupid kid in this class. Seriously.

"If you have any questions, ask the-"

"I'm sorry for interrupting, sir, but is there any chance that I can work alone? I just feel like I'll be better on my own." You questioned, raising her hand slightly to attract the teacher's attention. Mr. Hall's eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you.

"If anyone works alone, it will be an automatic fail. If you want an explanation, I won't give it to you, because i don't owe you one." Mr. Hall stated flatly as you groaned quietly in annoyance, rolling your eyes. "Now, I want everybody to sit next to their assigned partner. Remember, I will check if everybody is sat where they have to be, if not there will be consequences."

Cringing quietly at that last part, you shifted uncomfortably as you glanced around the room to see if anybody reacted the same way. Some of them did, but most didn't. Probably because they were so used to Mr. Hall and his weird ways of threatening. There was some rumor tha-

"Move, fat ass." Jumping slightly in your seat, you were a bit startled. As you looked up at the figure that insulted you and brought you out of your mind, you couldn't really recognize who it was. Was she one of the girls that liked Vance. Carol, maybe? You grimaced. Did you have to sit next to him? To Vance Hopper? That's probably why she looked like there was steam coming out of her ears. Does Carol still think that you and Vance are friends or something, even though the whole school knows you aren't.

"Maybe when you calm your balls down a bit, I will move you snot-flicking doofus." You spat out. Getting up, she threw you a nasty glare. You ignored her and went to sit where Vance was. Great. When you went to his desk, you dropped your bag on your side and sat down, giving the dirty-blond a quick glance. Just as Vance was about to say something to you (probably something spiteful) , Mr. Hall started checking as he promised, and after, he announced. "As you all know, yesterday we wrote down some very important notes about World War 1 and World War 2. Well, almost everyone." paused Mr. Hall, giving Vance a quick look of disapproval before continuing. Vance, in response, sneered. "All of you will have one to two weeks to do this project. Before you start it, I want you guys to write down some more notes, as the project's prompt will be about WW1 and WW2." Then your mind completely dozed off somewhere else. The prompt was all you needed. You would just write down the notes that were needed and zone out again.

As some minutes ticked off, you felt a sharp pain towards your leg. You quietly hissed out as you looked beneath the desk and saw Vance's leg, ready to attack again. You shot a glare towards Vance. All he did was smirk. Narrowing your eyes, you moved your legs far away as you possibly could. After a while, a thump on your leg was heard, and you bit your tongue just so you don't yelp out from pain. Looking up at the wall in front, you checked the time. Your eyebrows furrowed for a second before going to an unexplainable expression. 15 more minutes. You sighed in defeat, leaning your head on your palm. It won't be that bad. Right? It was just 15 minutes.

WRONG.

"You don't understand, Bugs! It hurt like a hundred hits with a belt!" You stated while she raised an eyebrow, silently questioning your words. "Okay, okay, I'm exaggerating, but still! He's the worst! And just as I thought he was gonna stop, he started tugging and pulling on my hair!" You ranted to your best friend. Exchanging the books in your hands with the ones in the locker, you slammed it shut. As you leaned against it, you turned towards your her - Maya. She was obviously trying to hold her laughter. When you started squinting your eyes and crossing your arms is when she burst out laughing. After a second, you chimed in. The both of you got weird stares from some other kids, or whatever. Who cares, tho? You were only having fun with one of the most normal girls in school.

When you were over with the giggling session, she spoke. "Maybe our little Vancey has a little crush on you!" teased Maya. "Oh yes, I hope Vance likes me! I really do!" You said with a fake smile and a high-pitched voice, making a face afterwards. Maya started laughing again, but you just stood there watching her. You rolled your eyes and sighed as she laughed. "If a boy likes you, he shouldn't be tugging or kicking your leg! Not bullying the person you like is literally the bare minimum!" You exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air in anger.

"True, true. But still, imagine if he actually does."

"Are you trying to get on my nerves today?" You grumbled out, looking sideways at her. She shrugged as the bell rang. "Maybe, but luckily we have English together. You know what that means..." She exclaimed, changing the subject as her mouth curved into a smile. You gave her a smirk of your own. Whenever the both of you had classes together, you wouldn't stop giggling for the most stupid reasons. Would it be teachers, other kids in school, hell, even objects! Honestly, she was everything you could ask for in a best friend. You knew each other since first grade. Maya knew about the incident with Vance because she was there too. Ever since then, the both of you hung out a lot, and you got very close, resulting in her being your best friend and you being hers.

As you both walked to the English classroom, ahead of you, you saw Vance with his supposed 'friends' and some two other girls. You scoffed, rolling your eyes while Maya just looked at them with the white of her eye. The both of you walked past the horrendously annoying group (in your opinion), but you noticed that Maya made some sort of expression you couldn't explain. Closest to it was one of surprise. An 'Ooh' and 'Aah' escaped from her lips, as if she was reading some sort of fascinating fashion magazine. You turned your head to see what she was 'Ooh'ing and 'Aah'ing about and you mentally groaned out.

Turning your head back, you saw Vance fucking Hopper staring at you. Right directly at you. The both of you locked eyes. As you kept eye contact with his icy blues, you saw that Carol girl angrily glaring at you. Making a face you turned your head towards Maya.

"I swear that chick has some problem with me!" You commented. "She keeps giving me a hairy eyeball, and I don't know why! I honestly think-"

"It's because she likes Vance. Yeah, I know. The whole school does." She replied. "Last year, when I was paired up with him for the school's baking competition, she kept either glaring or sneering at me." She said with a laughter. "Who cares, tho? It's not like she can win over his heart with her bitchy attitude. Wait! Actually no!" She exclaimed, her head turning towards you with wide eyes and a grin on her face. "They would be the perfect couple! They both are assholes like it's their full-time job and are just... Eugh!" Maya shivered a bit, a scowl plastered on her face while you chuckled at her reaction.

When you both went inside the classroom, you went to your usual seats, which were almost at the back. As you sat on the dirty plastic chairs, both of you started talking about different topics.

"And then she-" Maya got interrupted by the teacher walking in. Ugh. Mrs.Young..

After a while, you started quietly giggling at a thought that came in your head. Maya looked at you, confusion drawn on her face. You just gave her a nod, meaning that you would tell her in a bit. As the class began to sit down, Mrs. Young started talking about something that clearly wasn't important to you because you were quietly laughing and whispering with Maya.

"Y'know.. Young doesn't suit her. Like at all. She's fuckin' ancient, an annoying old hag that passes the jocks so they can graduate, just because she wants to pull down their pants since she can't do that to her husband." Maya quickly put a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh or even giggle. You could see her eyes slightly filled with tears as she blinked profusely.

"It wasn't that funny, but still. Its so-"

"Y/N!" Mr. Young yelled out. You stiffened as the expression on your face quickly turned from joy to panic. As you straightened up and turned your head towards her, you saw her make the most horrendous expression on an adult you have ever seen. You tried to keep it inside, but you let out a giggle and a quiet laugh.

"Something funny, young lady?" The teacher questioned.

Yes.

"N-No Mrs. Young.." You said through laughs. Fuck. As you glanced at Maya, you already knew she was gonna be the reason you were gonna end up in detention. As you let out a laugh again, that's when Mrs. Young shouted out.

"That's it! Detention for three days!"

"But-"

"I don't want to hear your excuses!"

You sighed as you plopped down on the plastic chair, placing your cheek on your palm.

What a day, honestly.

When the bell rang, you quickly gathered your stuff and left without uttering a word to your best friend. She called out to you, but you ignored her completely. As you went to your locker, you heard someone shout out your name while you quickly switched up your books.

"Y/N..!"

Maya's voice echoed through the hall. You turned around to look at her as she jogged towards you. When she was in front of you, she panted for some seconds before speaking up.

"What." You questioned, voice flat. It took her a moment to talk as she was taking some breaths. "Listen.. I didn't mean to make you mad or get you into trouble. I just wanted to make you smile after her nagging 'n shit, you know?" "Yeah, but that doesn't mean while she's scolding and looking at me!" "I'm sorry! Okay?" She exclaimed quickly while looking down at the ground. You just smiled at her. When she looked to you, her blue eyes crinkled at the end as she gave you a grin. You know she didn't mean any harm. "You're lucky you're my best friend, or I would have done everything possible to get you stuck in detention with me." She let out a giggle and hugged you, you doing the same.

As the time flew by, you went to detention, and when that hell of a place was over, you walked to the exit to leave school. You decided to go to the Grab 'N Go later and you walked half the way towards your house, you heard leaves crunching behind you. You shrugged it off and started walking a bit faster. When you realized the person behind copied you, you hesitated to turn around, and you did. Your eyes slightly widened a bit, then narrowed.

Vance fucking Hopper. Great. Just great.

You locked eyes with him. He looked you up and down, sneering. You stopped in your tracks, your face contouring into confusion and annoyance. "Are you followin' me or something, Hopper? You weren't even in detention, so what are you doing here walking so late after school?" You questioned, raising an eyebrow as you gripped the straps of your backpack. He probably took notice of it because he looked at them. Narrowing his eyebrows, he barked out, "Get a hold of yourself, dimwit. I would never follow anybody, especially you. Stupid bitch." 'Such a lie. He would definently follow someone if they piqued his interest.' You tought. Then he walked past you, grumbling something inaudible afterward.

You rolled your eyes and started again. Honestly, you expected some more arguing with him right now, but he didn't really do anything troublesome today when you think about it. Not even a minute fight with someone. Well, except when he started kicking your leg and tugging on your hair. He didn't answer your second question, too.. whatever, but what was that supposed to mean? Someone like you?

This time, Vance was ahead of you, so you decided to observe him. He was wearing his jean vest, a mix of blue-ish and gray-ish jeans, a white wife beater, belt, and some dirty black shoes. That was the outfit he wore most. Then, your eyes went up to the back of his head. His long, dirty-blond curls bouncing with every step he took. Honestly, you sometimes envied him for his hair. It was interesting. Wait. Did you just give that asshole a compliment? Yeah, but his hair was pretty! But his personality was the total opposite. It's like he was born on this planet to terrorize everything and everyone. You tought to yourself for a moment that it was because of his home life. You knew about it. He had told you a bit before you two had started hating each other. But that didn't excuse his behavior at all.

What you didn't realize was that you were so caught up in your mind that you were two blocks past your house. Stopping in your tracks when you had realized, you turned around, giving the blond one last glance.

Unlocking the door, you went inside, kicking your shoes off and dropping your backpack. You went to the wired phone to call Maya. Dialing her number, you put the receiver on your ear and waited. When she answered the both of you made an agreement to meet at the Grab 'N Go in 10.

Hanging up, you quickly ran up to your room, grabbing a 5 dollar bill, shoving it in your pocket. You closed the door and rushed down the stairs, putting on your shoes. You went outside and locked the door. You weren't really rushing, so you were walking at a normal pace. You started wondering where the nickname 'Bugs' for Maya came. After a while of thinking, you remembered it was from that one cartoon animation with a bunch of episodes. Looney Tunes, was it?

When you arrived at the Grab 'N Go, Maya wasn't there. She lived closer to the mini store than you did, so you thought it was unusual. Another strange thing is that she always waited for you right in front of the door. You decided to wait for some more minutes. Maybe she would be a bit late than usual, or was she inside? Your gut feeling was telling you something was wrong. You just hoped that The Grabber didn't kidnap her. Just the thought of that made you want to vomit. You quickly decided to first look inside the Grab 'N Go.

Going in, you saw a familiar blond hunched over the Pinball Machine, trying to beat his high score, its bell dinging whenever he scored. Typical Vance.

Ripping your attention off of him, you went between the aisles, but there was no sight of Maya. Suddenly, you heard a lot of commotion come from the side of the freezers. You decided to go there. Going on the other side, you saw a formed crowd of kids. A lot of hyping up and yells could be heard. A fight was happening. You don't know how the lady at the cash register wasn't hearing them chanting 'Fight, fight, fight!'. You wanted to shrug it off, but it was like an itch waiting to be scratched. As you pushed through the kids towards the center, you froze. Your eyes widened from the scene in front of you.

What the fuck?

Some two girls were holding Maya's arms from both her sides, and a third one was throwing punches and kicks at her. Your best friend's face was bruised, and so were her legs and arms. Her lip was almost busted. It wasn't even a fight at this point it was torture.

With clenched fists, your knuckles probably turning white at this point, you looked at the cashier and then back to Maya. When she moved her eyes towards you, you saw pain but relief when she took notice of you. There was so much more, but you couldn't just stand there anymore.

As you pushed through the kids, you went behind the girl who was hitting her. Grabbing her from the hair, you heard her yelp out in pain. "You putrid crotch-sniffing toerag, I swear to God I will kill you!" You yelled at her while turning her head to look at you. "Let me go, you cunt!" She screeched out. Ignoring her demanding, you straight up bashed her head in the freezer then threw her to the ground afterwards. Lifting her head up you saw that her eyes were teary and her nose was bleeding. She touched the bloody trail dripping from her nostrils with her fingertips and she quickly glared at you, anger evident in her eyes. As she got up she swinged a punch at you but you quickly ducked. Seeing her leg move a bit, you assumed she was going to try and kick you somewhere. Knowing her next attack, you blocked it with the tip of your elbow. You heard from somewhere that blocking it that way hurts your opponent more. Suddenly, an idea popped up in your mind. You grinned, bending your knees down a bit, hands resting on them.

"Stupidity ain't a crime, so feel fuckin' free to get outta here, bitch!" You remarked. "Oh! And by the way. I dont know if your parents realize that they're living proof of making a complete mistake and a fucking bitch that bullies other kids and projects her problems on them." You spat out afterward. She just stared up at you. And that's where you crossed the line. Before you can even comprehend, she punched you right in the nose.

"Y/N!" You heard the voice of your best friend call out to you. There was so much noise and commotion. You felt like everything was a fever dream. That was until you felt a kick to the stomach. You shut your eyes, a stinging feeling in them as you clutched your stomach with your arms. When you opened them, they were teary, and you felt a warm liquid trickling down your nose. Yup, you definently got a bloody nose, too. You wiped the blood with the sleeve of your shirt and looked up at her with a nasty glare. She was just grimacing down at you like you were some sort of creature that snuck on Earth. Out of nowhere, she decided to kick you in the hip multiple times, and your not gonna lie, it hurt like a bitch. It almost felt like you were gonna have a broken pelvis.

Just as you thought you were done for and embarrassed yourself in front of the whole Grab 'N Go, Maya shouted unexpectedly.

"Hey, you cock-sucking hackwag!" The girl turned around, facing her. She was surprised at her words because earlier she was tormenting your best friend, and now she's getting insulted by her. "Getting bold, are we?" She questioned, tilting her head while crossing her arms in front of her chest.

You sat up, your back leaning against the freezer door. You felt a slight lump on your lip. As you touched it a bit with the tips of your fingers, you realized she busted your lip. Grimacing, you looked up at the crowd. Some of them were watching Maya and the girl. Some were watching you. Including Vance. His eyes were scanning your bruises and whatnot that was on your exposed skin. He wasn't looking at you only. He observed the girl, Maya, and you. He was a fighter. After all, he was here for the fight. But when his eyes went to your slightly parted bloody lips, his eyebrows furrowed as he locked eyes with yours. The both of you were having a staring stand-off. Well, that was until someone's torso fell on your feet, hissing and groaning as you heard an 'Oh!' from the crowd. You were ready to attack that rascal again if Maya was the one on your feet, but it wasn't. It was quite the opposite, actually. Maya was standing proudly, a small grin plastered on her lips. You brought your feet up to your torso, her back hitting the ground, making her groan out again. You let out a laugh and stood up, dusting yourself.

Grabbing your best friend's hand, you pushed through the crowd. "We gotta go before we get into even more trouble!" You exclaimed, turning your head to glance at her. Going past the cashier lady, she gave you an odd look. Maybe it was because of your beaten up state, turning her gaze to where the leftover commotion was coming.

When you and Maya went out the door, the bell rang, signaling your exit. You started running and giggling a bit, both of your lungs' burning. Both of you were bruised, scratched, and whatnot. People on the street were giving you weird and concerned looks, but hey. At least you kind of protected Maya. But you owed her now. She saved you from that girl before she could do something else than just throw a blow and some kicks at you. You were just glad she was okay.

As for now, both of you went over to your house and fixed each other up on the living room couch, watching some clichè action movie. After a while, she said.

"Dude, I honestly thought you were done for when she started kickin' and shit. You looked so.."

"Don't even finish."

She chuckled while laying her head on your lap, her legs on the armrest. "I'm just glad you're okay, N/N." She murmured.

"Me too, Bugs." You answered, caressing her hair. "Oh, by the way, did you see the way Vance looked at you? It was weird."

"I know, don't mention it. Again." You exclaimed quickly. "Why?" She asked. There was a moment of silence between the both of you. "Because I don't know what kind of look it was." You mumbled. "What kind of look did you hope it was?" She looked up at you, her blue eyes looking for an answer in yours.

"I don't know." You stated, ripping your eyes from hers to the TV.

"Then, if you don't know now, you will find out another day." She said before turning her attention towards the movie.

What a day.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ NOTES : Hello, guys! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I am currently working on the second chapter of the fic, so stay tuned! If you want to get tagged when chapter II is out, please leave a comment or like! If you have any suggestions for the next chapter, feel free to tell me in the comments! Bye-bye! :D

Tags ! : @yayitsyannie @serradiary1ry @dollyzdove I edited the fic up a bit, so that's why I'm tagging you guys for chapter I !

#vance hopper x reader #vance hopper #billy showalter #griffin stagg #finney blake #gwen blake #robin arellano #bruce yamada #the grabber #albert shaw

192 notes · View notes

doin-just-fine · 8 months ago

Text

MAJOR UPDATE: Questioning systems or systems in a doubt spiral pls read.

I recently told my therapist about potentially being a system. This was a scary move because she has previously had some iffy takes about systemhood. But I told her because I trusted that she would meet me where I was at and help me navigate , at the least, the general idea of not understanding my own brain if nothing else which I was ok with. I told her and it went as expected. I explained why I thought I might be a system but also the doubts I had about it and how it was distressing me to not understand myself. She agreed to use the language I was using for it and was happy to help me through (as is her job) and also because whether it was systemhood or not it was something in me that was trying to be seen and we would work on figuring out what it was.

Fast forward a few session, and I was going through another bout of "what the fuck even is my brain". I was starting to realize that my "systemhood" is very different from the things I've been seeing online. In the ways that it's different to other systems is: - I'm always in the front, always in the captains chair - I have no amnesia because I never switch out - My hyper-vigilance never lets me dissociate fully though i definitely "check out" in my own way - Head mates just feel like vague ideas or emotions

But the ways that are similar are: - These vague ideas or emotions have opinions and feelings that are different from my own. - Though they are vague, I can definitely tell they are separate from what I have come to understand as "me" - I become "a different person" in the sense of my attitude, vibe, behavior, and opinions change from where they were 5 mins ago, but I am still me, just a different me.

Anyway, I was already trying to make sense of all of this and was not planning on talking about it with my therapist because nervous... However, my therapist ask me about it first. She asked some clarifying questions about my partners system vs my own and how they are different. When I explained what I just wrote above to my therapist she said "Thats what I thought and I owe you an apology."

Basically, my therapist, like any good therapist should when confronted by something they don't know a lot about, had been doing research on complex forms of trauma and coping. Things in the same vain as CPTSD and Plurality including those two topics. She had specifically been reading a book called "The Body Keeps The Score" (TW it is a book about trauma and studies of trauma so it has details of case studies that some people may find incredibly triggering). I did some research on what exactly the book was talking about in regards to "systemhood" and from what I've found, chapter 14 at the end of a section called "Writing to yourself" and the first parts of chapter 17 have interesting information regarding systemhood and how its not entirely limited to things that are diagnosable like DID or OSDD. It seems to talk about how we all have several selves and trauma can get in the way of those selves communicating effectively. My therapist told me about this book and what she learned from it and apologized to me because the book made her realize that she was wrong and that I was in fact a system....

The session ended and I just kind of sat there... not sure how to feel but definitely feeling relief and validation.

After doing research on the book to write this I have some words of wisdom. If you are a questioning system or are doubting your validity remember this: The human brain is so incredibly complex and no one actually understands how it does anything beyond its basic physical functionality... the conceptual abilities of our mind are a mystery. How we define self is just theory. If you don't fit into boxes, labels, identities, or diagnoses that does not mean your experiences aren't real. You are going to be ok. Understand YOUR mind and how it works for YOU, not through a label or diagnosis. If those things come later, great! Do not let them destroy you just because you don’t fit perfectly. I am a system. Simply. No types, labels, or diagnosis. I am a system. I have a unique experience because my brain is no one elses. I am a system. I may not have people in my head in the traditional sense but I'm also not alone up here either. I am a system. I am a system. I am a system. Nobody has the right to deny me this for they do not live behind my eyes.

As I understand myself: I am a system.

#median system #questioning system #plurality #system #actually plural #actual system #actually median #questioning median system #plural community #neurogenic

294 notes · View notes

thecousinsdangereux · 4 months ago

Note

i just recently discovered your soulmate au and i loves it so much. so incredibly intriguing and well written and damn is it hot 🔥 thanks so much for sharing with us. in your mind, does it have a happy ending for them?

also wanted to ask if you'll be checking in to see the big warrior nun announcement coming tomorrow?

Ahhhh thank you! This ask is kind of tragic now given how everything with Warrior Nun ended up going, but I thought I'd use it as a way to share my ideas for the rest of a beggar in the morning, if anyone is interested in learning how it was going to go. Long story short, it was going to have a happy ending. :)

Here's a full outline for what I had in mind for the second half of the fic. Under the cut because it's very detailed in the parts that I'd started writing. Also in case anyone cares about spoilers? At the moment, I don't plan on finishing this fic, but I do plan on returning to writing in general, so guess there's a non-zero chance that I could come back to it. Stranger things have happened.

Beatrice keeps looking for the recipient of the Letter she's been trying to deliver and starts taking trips out into the countryside. She takes Ava's advice and takes to enjoying the journey - stopping into small cafes for lunch rather than eating in the car, taking the long way when it means she can enjoy a new view, etc.

During one of these side quests, she's told about a man who lives way off in the middle of nowhere who has the last name of Reis (the last name of the Letter recipient: Lara Reis), and she tracks him down. He had a sister who had a child with someone who was not her Match. I wanted to go more into what this looks like (and how the church is still anti-abortion in this world, because they think this could potentially ruin a future match, cue eye-roll) but in this case, the woman was basically run out of town. The man directs Beatrice to an orphanage where the child was raised.

This trail eventually goes cold because the orphanage has no records of the girl. They only know she left when she became of age.

The end of chapter six is basically Beatrice being frustrated and taking some 'advice' from Lilith to find someone to fuck hfkjshlk so she goes to the bar and ohhh nooo Ava is working that night, filling in for someone. Ava gets jealous, Bea does some shots, and it's basically a rehash of the lemon drop scene from the show, but hornier. Eventually, they make out, and decide to be friends with benefits.

Chapter 7 was honestly just going to be porn. lol. It's actually some of the first stuff I wrote for this fic - just a page of porn. Beggar came out of a Secret Santa fic exchange, and my friend Alex asked for lots of sex and a soulmate au. So... Chapter 7 was the payoff (part 2). Here's a few disjointed scenes, in case anyone is interested in reading some unedited very E-rated stuff.

A few months go by and all the nuns visit Beatrice for her bday and they're like huh so what's going on here and Beatrice has to pretend that it's not that serious with Ava (lol). I also wanted to do a conversation between Shannon and Beatrice where Shannon talks about the whole Mary thing and loving someone against the will of god (or at the very least, in the very gray areas).

The end of chapter seven is Ava finally talking about her past, which is that Ava doesn't remember hers. She woke up in a hospital without her memories and then spent the next decade traveling around trying to find something that felt like home.

In chapter 8, a lot of time passes, and the fucking continues. Beatrice is kind of losing it, poor girl.

I hadn't exactly decided what was going to happen next, but Ava was going to overstep in some way (or in some perceived way) and Beatrice was going to panic. Either Beatrice was going to have a brief thought about being in love, they were going to have reallyyyy soft sex, or something like that, but either way, Beatrice was going to have to admit she has deeper feelings for Ava than what's allowed allowed, so she goes back to Spain and ignores Ava's texts/calls/etc.

Eventually she realizes she owes Ava closure. She comes back and kind of explains why she's reacted the way she has. She gets more into why she joined the church and it's not for God or the Church itself, but because she does genuinely believe that love itself is holy. She admits she's falling in love with Ava, but she can't break her vows. She believes giving into her feelings would be putting herself above the whole history of love... the sanctity of the entire universe... and to be that selfish would be monstrous.

There's a callback to their early game of three questions, and how Ava still owes Beatrice one answer. Beatrice nearly asks if Ava loves her, but pulls back because she's scared of the answer. They basically break up, but Ava tells Bea to let her know when she's ready to ask her last question.

Beatrice takes it HARD. She buries herself in her work and starts visiting hospitals in various towns. She finds a Spanish doctor and he recognizes the number (or rather, the system behind the number) that is on Letter Beatrice is still trying to deliver. He tells Beatrice she's not looking for a hospital in Portugal, but rather in Spain - one in a small town in Andalusia. He mentions a patient who was in a coma, who woke up without her memories.

At this point, Beatrice obviously knows and she flies to Spain in daze. She visits the hospital, gives them the number, and asks for the name of the patient. When they'd brought the girl in, no one knew where she came from, she didn't have an ID, memories, etc. Nothing except for an old receipt from a restaurant in Portugal. ("Beatrice braces herself for what she already knows, but doesn't want to face.") The nurse at the hospital tells her they used a generic Portuguese name for the girl and it stuck: Ava Silva.

Beatrice visits Cat's Cradle because what else is she supposed to do? How is she supposed to deliver this Letter to Ava, who she's obviously in love with. She talks with Mary and we get the other side of the whole Mary/Shannon thing, and Mary is kind of like, okay, the Letters matter but they don't Matter. Beatrice asks Mary what she would do if she got a Letter (since Mary isn't a nun and could get one, but Shannon never could) and Mary basically says she would throw it away without opening it because she wouldn't want to give Shannon a reason to go self-sacrificial.

Of course, Beatrice doesn't really think this is her call to make. She's going to deliver Ava's Letter. There's this whole scene of her very dramatically and angstily getting ready for the delivery in the Official White Habit, then walking through the town she's come to associate so completely with Ava. And chapter 9 ends.

When Beatrice walks through the doors of the bar, Ava looks up, but doesn't seem surprised, even says 'oh, finally', which is pretty much the last thing that Beatrice expected, but then again, maybe it should have been the first, because Ava is always surprising her, and shouldn't she expect it by now? She asks Ava if she'd known that she was the person Beatrice had been trying to deliver to all along and Ava looks confused at this, like she hadn't considered that at all. "It's not that. I just knew my Letter would be coming because I'd already met you."

Beatrice is like, no no no. That's not how this works. It can't be me. I've been carrying this Letter with me this whole time - before I met you - and the Letters are only sent to a person when they've met their soulmate. And obviously, Beatrice is a nun and can't have a soulmate, etc. etc.

And then Ava says something like this: “Maybe every once in a while, God -- or the universe or whatever it is -- knows that it’ll be really hard to make two people meet organically, so it fudges the rules a little bit. Makes one girl a nun, makes another one hard to find, and sets up the dominos really early on."

And when Beatrice says she's being ridiculous/it's impossible, she says, "I know what’s in that letter. It’s you. I don’t need to open it to know it's you." and "Maybe it’s like some people say and god arranged it all. Fine. Then god chose me for you. Simple. He made me in this exact way, down to my hands and toes and whatever, so that I was perfect for his favorite creation in all of the universe. Because that has to be you."

And: "Or maybe it’s like what those other people say. You know - the past lives reincarnation stuff. Fine, then in our first lives we fell in love and then I found you in the second and third and the five hundredth. I found you and I picked you and I wanted you every time. Or okay, fine, maybe it’s what the the pseudo science people say. Even if those guys are right, I still know. It’s you because at the very start of the universe - at the very beginning of everything - we were the first two bits of something. The first two tiny little sparks. One of those was you and one of them was me. And even when we split off into a million trillion billion infinite pieces, the core of one was you. And the other one was me."

And: "In every religion or in any theory, the world exists so that I can find you again, and the world will do whatever it takes - bend the rules in whatever way - to make sure that at the exact right time, we would meet. And maybe it wasn’t perfect - maybe it was stupid hard for us to get to this point - maybe there was an easier way to make it happen - but I don’t care. Because it worked and I found you and I fell in love with you and I would do anything for that. So yeah. This Letter is telling me that I’m for you. That’s easy. It’s not faith. It’s just a fact.

And: "Besides, whatever’s on that paper? It’s going to be you. If it’s a picture of a butterfly, then it’s going to be you because of that time we went to the dam and one landed on your hand and you said “isn’t the world beautiful?” and that’s when I knew I loved you for the very first time. If it’s the notes to the first bar in At Last, then it’s you, because we used to play it all the time in the bar and I always thought it was fucking stupid to think you'd know like that right away, before everything, but it was the song that played in my head anyways when you walked in the bar that first night. There she is, I sort of thought, a dream that I can speak to."

"It could be any single word or phrase or letter and it would be you, because I love you and I love you so much I see you in every part of this entire world. I love you and I want to keep you with me always, and so you’re always there in my thoughts, slipping over and into everything else and I love it. It makes me love everything I see a little bit more, because it reminds me of you. It makes the world more beautiful."

"So, no offense, but I don't really give a fuck about the Letter. I already know it's going to be you. But I think you need to see it. So you know you’re not as selfish as you think you are."

And Beatrice admits that she wants to be with Ava anyways. Even if it makes her selfish. (Even if it makes her heretical.) Love is holy and what she feels for Ava is holy too, even if it's a sort of holy no one else will ever understand.

I went back and forth about whether they actually SHOULD open the Letter. lol. But I think I eventually settled on that they should, and that when Ava does open it, it's a blank page with like, 7 little dots and Beatrice is like??????????????? But Ava recognizes it instantly and it's the freckles on Beatrice's cheeks, the ones she's always tracing, and she does that again, following the ink on the paper.

Beatrice had been ready to give up her religion for Ava, so getting to keep it, maybe, suddenly is a LOT. She can't quite believe something divine would do something like this for her. But maybe she can believe that something divine would do something like this for Ava.

Later, I wanted Beatrice to have a conversation with Mother Superion. I thought it would be interesting to get into the philosophical bits of it. To debate if Ava could actually be right in her ideas about how this could be, and still fit into what they know about god/Letters/religion. I liked the idea of the conversation ending with neither of them really knowing, and Mother S being like, look girl, you'll never know for sure, but that sounds like faith to me. And Beatrice says no, no this is different, capital F Faith is for the divine. This is just trusting that Ava isn't lying about the freckles thing, or won't get tired of me, or won't find someone else. Etc etc etc. because it's panicking time for Beatrice, suddenly. And Mother Superion just raps her knuckles sort of in the most gentle way she can manage and says "That's love, Beatrice." in the way way someone might say "That's pussy, babe."

Beatrice does leave the church (though she eventually goes back to 'consulting' kind of like Mary). And when she does actually physically leave as well, Ava is waiting outside on a bench. Beatrice asks why she didn't just come inside, and she says something about being a little afraid of churches these days. She did steal god's favorite, after all.

And then they walk off into the sunset, with Beatrice being like wait a second, I thought you said this was all God's plan. And Ava shrugs and says that she would never willingly give Beatrice up, so god might come to her senses and change her mind.

I was going to end it there, but I did consider doing an epilogue as well. Early on in planning I had this idea where, years later, all the nuns regularly come over to the Silvas (because Ava does keep her 'second' name, though she does start to learn more about the Reis family, and meets her Uncle - the dude Beatrice learned about the orphanage from). And on one of these occasions, the nuns are all in white, and they're delivering Beatrice's Letter, which is addressed to Beatrice Silva. In the end, I decided against this, because I liked leaving it more open-ended, but nothing had been set in stone at this point, of course.

So yeah, that was going to be a beggar in the morning. lol. I plotted most of it out before I even started writing, because it wasn't the sort of story you could make up as you went and still tell it well. And I did want to tell the story well! There's a part of me that's sad that I wasn't able to, but I do think it was worth writing what I did. I really loved seeing people realize that Lara was Ava, even as early as chapter 5! And I also loved people coming up with theories about how Avatrice would be endgame. Some of them were honestly really good and maybe better than mine fhdskjhfd I had one person be like PLEASE let Ava's Letter be for someone else so they can metaphorically spit in god's face and honestly that was valid.

I don't know if anyone is going to bother to read this very, very long reply to an ask that doesn't actually ask for any of this, but it honestly just feels nice to put all these ideas together and 'complete' the story. Even if I've done it in the most half-assed way possible I am so sorry fhadskjlfhldsj

#sorry to use your ask from forever ago to go off about the planned ending of this fic #I had to combine notes from my phone google doc and physical journal to find all these details again so it was like I was rediscovering #my own fic #me at me as I was reading back: wow this shit is cheesy you are a huge loser #warrior nun #writing #a beggar in the morning

121 notes · View notes

imaginespazzi · 8 months ago

Text

Part 5: One Perfect Day

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 6 - Part 7

Let me photograph you in this light (in case it is the last time that we might be exactly like we were)

(In which a procrastinating writer procrastinates giving her ship happiness)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Some Fluff

Words: 7.5K

TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Good evening my lovelies <3. As many of you have reminded me it is indeed Friday and so here we are, nobody needs to yell at me! I know I'm years too late with this but I hope y'all like it anyways, even though this is very much mainly hurt with very little comfort. But for things to get better, they have to get worse and remember, it's all for the plot! There's plenty of creative liberty taken this chapter with how hotels and post-championship celebrations work and other logistics but I wrote it how I needed to so just go with it. Did I edit? Yes. Are there typos and errors anyway? Probably. As always, tell me what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see next. Have a wonderful weekend lovelies!!

March 2019

The final buzzer echoes through the Williams Arena, and the disappointment of the last couple of years is finally drowned out as the Hopkins Royals win the state championship. Surrounded by the cheers of her teammates, Paige doesn’t know if she’d call this the happiest moment of her life, the stomach flu symptoms haven’t quite faded yet, but she knows it’s definitely on her mount rushmore of times when life was great.

For a second, as she’d been crouched over the toilet with Azzi’s hands soothingly rubbing her back, feeling her soul leave with the remnants of last night's dinner, Paige had almost lost hope. But she’d never been taught to give up without a fight. And so it hadn’t mattered that she definitely looked a little green or that standing up was taking twice the energy it normally did, Paige was going to play today. It hadn’t been a flashy scoring night but she’d done everything else her team needed. And as that lead had built and built and built, Paige knew, the moment was still hers.

“Paigeyyyyy,” Drew is the first one to find her after her and her teammates break apart, launching his tiny body into her legs, “you won!”

Paige laughs, lifting her brother into her arms and spinning him around, “I told you I was gonna didn’t I?”

One by one, her whole family, the epitome of a modern family, pull her into hugs and then they gather into one large group hug, with Paige at the centre of it all. Her siblings look at her with pure admiration while her parent’s eyes are filled with pride. And it fulfils that part of Paige that has always lived a little more for her family than for herself.

As her family moves away slowly, Paige finds herself face to face with Azzi’s shining smile and her heart skips a beat. And she doesn’t really know when it started or even how really, but it gets a little more difficult every time she sees Azzi, for Paige to convince herself that that fluttering in her chest is nothing.

“You look a little pale white girl,” Azzi teases, taking a couple of steps towards the blonde, “glad you didn’t vomit all over the floor.”

“Nah no bullshit flu is stopping Paige Bueckers. The flu is scared of me,” Paige juts out her chest with a smirk, earning her a patented eye roll from the younger girl.

“Oh yeah, you’re real scary,” Azzi indulges before pulling Paige into a bone-crushing hug, “I’m proud of you P.”

Paige smiles into the crook of Azzi’s neck, basking in the glow of the compliment. It’s these little moments they have in between their constant banter, where they let themselves be each other’s biggest cheerleaders, that makes them Paige and Azzi. They pull away, still grinning. and Paige’s eyes roam over the Team Paige jersey framing Azzi’s body. It makes her feel some type of way to see the younger girl wearing her name across her chest, but it’s not a feeling Paige is quite ready to accept. Perhaps it’s been written in their destiny that someday things will change, that eventually they’ll both have to confront the something more that’s simmering underneath it all, but for now, Paige just wants to protect what they already have.

“That’s a pretty jersey,” she says with a wink, fingers rushing over the soft material.

“I was forced at gunpoint to wear it,” Azzi sighs dramatically, “I was actually cheering for Stillwater. Their pg’s kinda cute.”

Paige bristles at the comment, the queasiness from this morning returning with vengeance, “she’s mid as hell on and off the court.”

“Don’t be petty Paige. You think she’d let me wear her jersey instead?”

“You know what,” Paige fights a losing battle with the quick surge of anger that’s taking birth in her stomach, “how about you take off my winner’s jersey and go to the loser’s locker room and beg for her jersey instead.”

She knows Azzi’s joking, knows the point guard on the other team isn’t even really Azzi’s type, knows that even if Azzi’s being serious, Paige doesn’t have a right to feel this way. But that green eyed monster is clawing at her heart, squeezing it and making it hard to breathe.

“Oh- hey hey hey,” Azzi’s quick to grab at her when Paige tries to storm off, “chill dude. You know I’m just kidding.”

“Well it wasn’t funny,” Paige pouts, aware that she’s being unnecessarily childish.

Azzi opens her mouth, about to make some smartass quip but there must be something about how genuinely frustrated Paige looks that softens her expression, “I came to watch you P. I have no idea what that other girl was doing. I was cheering for you the whole time.”

“You’re so sappy,” Paige snorts, throwing a handful of confetti at Azzi, but inside, the ice cold jealousy melts into something warm and lovely, spreading through her heart into her veins.

“Can’t even say nice shit without you being a dick about it,” Azzi rolls her eyes, as she links her arms through Paige’s, “now come on, let’s go celebrate you.”

***

It’s almost 2 a.m. when Paige’s teammates finally begin to filter out of her house, leaving with droopy eyes and tired smiles. She and Azzi stand in the doorway, waving goodbye to every last one of them and it feels a little domestic, like a couple after a dinner party. Paige shakes that thought away the minute it begins to form, forcing herself to ignore the burst of wouldn’t that be lovely that blooms in her chest.

“What if I just fell asleep here?” Paige sags against the doorframe.

“You’d probably fall flat on your face and I’d get an epic video of it.”

“You’re so fucking mean to me.”

“Oh yeah right because you’re so nice to me.”

“Am to,” Paige retorts, before she makes grabby hands towards Azzi, “carry me?”

Azzi swats her hands away, “Absolutely not lazy, it’s one flight of stairs.”

“That’s like 20 steps,” Paige whines. To be honest, she’s not that tired. Out of the two of them, she’s probably closer to being a night owl. But Paige is nothing if not a little bit of nuisance, especially when it comes to Azzi.

“Are you an athlete or not,” Azzi chides, rolling her eyes.

“Bro I just won a championship AND I had the flu. And you won’t even carry me? What kind of best friend are you?”

“Paige.”

“Azziiiiii.”

“Paige I’m tired.”

“Pleeeeeaseeee.”

The younger girl sighs, a sign of her caving in, before turning around so her back is facing Paige's front, “fine, get on you big baby.”

“YES-”

“Dude shut up, you’re gonna wake everybody up,” Azzi groans, always the responsible one.

“Sorry, sorry,” Paige whispers as she jumps onto Azzi’s back, the force of it causing the brunette to take a couple steps forward, “fucking hell Azzi don’t drop me.”

Azzi lets out an indignant squawk, as she regains her balance, “with that attitude, I should drop you.”

“If you’re too weak to carry me, just say that,” Paige teases, wrapping her legs firmly around Azzi’s torso. She buries her shit-eating grin in her best friend’s neck, as she loops her arms around Azzi’s shoulders.

“It is not my fault you’ve put on like a hundred pounds since I last saw you.”

Azzi squeals when Paige pinches at her ribcage and the blonde immediately slaps a hand on her best friend’s mouth, “what happened to being quiet? Now, onwards horsey- OW! Did you just fucking bite my hand!?”

“What happened to being quiet?” Azzi mocks, adjusting Paige’s weight on her back as she begins to walk towards the staircase, grumbling something under her breath about ‘ungrateful best friends’ but Paige knows she doesn’t mean a word of it. She snuggles further into Azzi’s neck, letting herself breathe in the scent of the younger girl.

When Azzi had first left Minnesota, after they’d spent every second since the plane ride back from Argentina, Paige had thought that that hollowness in her chest was temporary, that it would fade once she got back into daily life. It didn’t. And the thing is the word miss had existed in Paige’s dictionary before too but she doesn’t think she really understood what it meant til she started to miss Azzi.

As soon as they reach Paige’s bedroom, Azzi’s already swatting Paige off her back. The blonde falls back onto the pillows on her bed with a content sigh, watching with a cheeky grin as Azzi pretends to stretch out the muscles on her back and her arms.

“I think that might have broke my fucking back,” the younger girl groan, face scrunching up in mock exhaustion, “and I have to sit on a plane again tomorrow.”

That wipes the smile straight off Paige's face. It’s so easy to get lost in the moment with Azzi, so easy to forget that they spend less time together than they do apart. They haven’t bothered with the actual lights but even in the dim glow of the moon through Paige’s windows, Azzi sees her best friend’s change in expression clearly, her own face becoming melancholic. Sighing, she climbs onto the bed herself and lies down next to Paige, intertwining her hands with the older girl’s.

“You could stay a little longer,” Paige says after a moment, eyes resolutely focused on the ceiling.

Azzi let out a wistful sigh, “I wish. But you know I can’t.”

“You can, you just won’t, little miss goody-two-shoes,” the light-hearted teasing eases some of the mood as they both let out soft giggles. They dissolve into a comfortable silence before, “I can’t wait til we’re playing for UConn together.”

Paige misses the way Azzi stiffens a little next to her, too enthralled with imagining a future where she and her best friend could conquer the world together. She knows Azzi, with all her indecisive tendencies, hasn’t quite come around to being anywhere near ready to pick a college team yet but Paige still has time to convince her and Paige Bueckers is nothing if not persuasive.

“So it’s definitely UConn then?”

“Yeah. I mean it’s UConn dude. The UConn. They’re the best. All these other programs are nice but when UConn calls, you don’t say no to that shit,” and Paige means that with all her heart. As the number one recruit in her class, there had been no shortage of offers and of course Paige had entertained them for a little while. But the minute Geno Auriemma had given his offer, everything else had become obsolete. She hadn’t committed yet, still maintaining a façade of being in the decision stage, but all of that was just a front. Paige knows she’s meant to be a UConn husky, there’s no way around it.

“I think you’ll make a pretty damn good Husky,” Azzi says with a soft smile, as she absentmindedly plays with Paige’s fingers.

“We’ll make damn good Huskies,” Paige affirms.

“I don’t know P, California’s pretty tempting,” it’s said teasingly but a hint of seriousness slips through the cracks anyway.

Paige scoffs, “cause it’s hot? Bruh that much heat would be boring. Connecticut gets all four seasons. We’d get the heat and the snow.”

“I get all of that in Virginia already,” Azzi points out with a huff, “maybe I want something different.”

“You do get something different. You get to play with me. That’s different.”

“Yeah but-”

“Dude why are you fighting me on this? Do you not want to be on the same team as me or something?” Paige asks agitatedly, suddenly feeling frustrated with the turn the conversation had taken.

“Okay breathe,” Azzi gives her a stern side-eye, “I was just saying California’s nice. Of course I want to be on your team. Did the shirt not make that obvious?”

Involuntarily, Paige has to smile at the memory of Azzi’s jersey, the team Paige that had been loudly imprinted across her chest, “right, sorry got a little carried away. I just always want you on my team, you know?”

“I’m always on Team Paige. I always have been. I always will be,” Azzi says firmly, as if it’s the most obvious truth in the world.

When Paige turns her head to look at her best friend, the younger girl is already looking back at her and the sincerity in Azzi’s eyes makes Paige’s heart stutter. The moon shines against Azzi’s face and Paige swears she can see every little detail in the dim light. And the thing is Paige has always known Azzi’s a pretty girl, she’s not blind. But it’s different tonight. Tonight Azzi’s the kind of beautiful that Paige wants to memorise until it’s imprinted in the back of her eyelids, the kind of beautiful that she wants to lock away in a treasure chest and preserve only for her own eyes to ever see again. The kind of beautiful that Paige knows she isn’t allowed to think of Azzi as. But still, right now, Azzi’s the kind of beautiful that makes Paige want to try and see if maybe, just maybe, there’s the possibility for something more.

That night, when she finally falls asleep to the sound of her best friend’s quiet breathing, Paige dreams of UConn and championships and at the end of it all, kissing Azzi under the confetti.

***

April 2024

There’s 14 seconds left in the National Championship game and UConn is ahead by eight points. Adrenaline courses through Paige’s veins as that one elusive dream of hers seems to finally be coming closer and closer to fruition. Winning a National Championship had been on her mind since she’d first picked up a basketball. The minute she’d committed to UConn, it had felt inevitable and yet year after year, her team had fallen just a little short. But this afternoon, it seems like it’s finally within grasp. 14 seconds to go. 14 steps closer to having her perfect moment.

Except, every time Paige had imagined this moment, she’d expected her best friend to be there. In the beginning, before everything, she’d dreamed of them being on the court together, running into each other’s arms the minute the buzzer sounded. And then, until the last second today before she had to take the court, Paige had just assumed that when she’d look in the stands, somewhere in the crowd, there’d be the one face she wanted to see most in the world. But no matter how much she squinted, that face had been nowhere to be found and Paige had forced herself to compartmentalise her disappointment, and focus on the game. She hadn’t looked at the crowd since.

The ball is in the other team’s hands, their point guard, diligently calling out plays before she inbounds it. Coach’s words echo in Paige’s head, try for a clean steal but don’t under any circumstances foul. Their pg inbounds the ball and the shot clock starts to count down. The ball bounces through the hands of different players on the other team but the UConn defence is stifling. Their coach is out of timeouts and it isn’t until the last millisecond that they heave up a prayer shot. And it doesn’t matter if it goes in, it’s a two point possession game, but Paige’s eyes are glued on the basketball anyways.

The shot is an airball. The buzzer sounds through the arena. UConn wins their 12th national championship.

For a second, everything goes silent around Paige. The normally over-excitable girl, known for her insane golden retriever energy, is perfectly still. It takes a couple more seconds for the adrenaline to hit. And then she’s screaming, pummeling her body into the rest of her teammates as the bleed blue crowd goes wild. She loses herself in the noise of her teammates cheering and the bright lights of cameras flashing nearby. They did it. And it doesn’t erase just how fucking hard the last couple of year had been, but it makes the burden significantly lighter.

Paige rushes through the handshake line, the opposing team’s coach giving her an appreciative review of her performance before she’s recaptured into a group hug by her teammates. It’s a surreal feeling really, one that’s far better than even her most wonderful dreams. For the first time since the game began, Paige lets her gaze wander over to the family section who are all tearfully hugging, smiling at her parents and then her siblings and then-

When her eyes meet Azzi’s, it’s like the last piece of the puzzle has finally settled into its rightful place, completing the perfect picture of Paige’s perfect moment. A #5 UConn jersey hangs loosely against Azzi’s hips as she smiles shyly at her best friend. And Paige is scared to blink, scared if she looks away, the girl in front of her will disappear. It takes everything in her to not rush into the stands, pull her best friend into her and kiss her under the confetti.

Azzi doesn’t budge when the rest of the family and friends crew start to move towards the court. There’s too much attention, too much media, for that to be a feasible option. Paige wishes they would all just disappear, let her have her moment the exact way she’d pictured it. She thinks she’d like to fulfil that dream of hers, kiss Azzi in the confetti, twirl her around, and between it all, let the world know that she was Paige’s.

As always, Drew is the first person to reach her. He’s a little too big for her to pick up, but she spins him around anyway.

“You won Paigey,” her little brother squeals and he might be older now, but that innocent admiration of his older sister is as palpable as always, “I knew you could do it!”

“Thanks for always believing in me, little dude,” Paige says softly, leaning her cheek against the top of Drew’s head.

Over the top of her brother's head, Paige realises with sudden panic that Azzi’s not there anymore. Dread filters into her bloodstream, the voices in her head screaming it was too good to be true. The way her body tenses doesn’t go unnoticed by her mother who’s quick to hold her.

“She said to tell you she’d see you at the hotel later,” Amy Jo says with a knowing smile, before letting Paige’s body sag into hers. She rubs her daughter’s back as relief settles into the younger girl's features, “proud of you Paigey.”

Paige smiles into her mother’s chest. Last year had been the hardest of her life and for a while the light at the end of the tunnel had been hard to see. Today, she feels the light surrounding her, washing away all the darkness from the last few years, bathing her in the glow of happiness.

***

“I always knew you’d look good in a UConn jersey.”

Azzi’s eyes fly open and Paige smirks, leaning her body against the wall. The last couple of hours had been a whirlwind of media, champagne and excited chatter about what the after party would be like. Paige’s focus had been on celebrating, but the thought of getting back to Azzi had been a constantly lingering presence in the back of her mind. And as the bus had gotten closer to the hotel, anxiety had creeped in because what if Azzi wasn’t there? What if she’d changed her mind?

Paige had smiled for the fans outside the hotel, diligently posing for pictures and signing autographs, ignoring the heaviness in heart. But as soon as she was far away from prying eyes, she was bolting towards her room. And then everything was okay. Paige has heard a lot of cliché things about love, about how it makes you hear violins and see stars and all of that, about how it increases your heart rate and makes you flush. But Paige thinks all of that can’t quite be right. Because when she’d seen Azzi, curled up in her sheets, #5 jersey crumpled but still fitted around her body, Paige had only felt a sense of calm. And that Paige thinks, is probably the actual truth of love, it’s about finding peace and to Paige, Azzi has always been her peace.

“I’d look great in any jersey,” Azzi claps back groggily, moving to sit up.

“But you look the best in mine. You always have,” Paige tries to keep her voice teasing, but it comes out sounding rather wistful, and the next words are even softer, “you came.”

Azzi bites her lips, looking down at her fiddling thumbs, “you asked me to.”

Those four little words carve themselves into a little crevice in Paige’s heart as if they’ll stay there forever, as if they’ll echo through her entire body for the rest of time. She practically throws herself onto the younger girl, the force of it pushing Azzi back down into the pillows, as she buries her head in the crook of Azzi’s neck. Their legs slot together of their own accord and it’s a little bit like they’re trying to meld into each other’s skin the way they press themselves as close as possible, til there’s barely space for air in between them. They lie like that for god knows how long; it goes by in a rush and yet ever so slowly.

“I’m really fucking happy you’re here,” Paige whispers into Azzi’s skin, “really fucking happy.”

Azzi doesn’t say anything, humming into Paige’s hair as she tightens her grip on the blonde’s waist but Paige can tell by the way she stiffens underneath her, that Azzi’s holding herself back from something. Her heart hammers in her chest as she lifts her face from Azzi’s neck to inspect the younger girl’s face.

“What aren’t you saying to me Az?” she whispers quietly with a sinking feeling.

“Paige,” Azzi closes her eyes. And just that is enough for Paige to understand exactly what’s going through her best friend’s head and suddenly she wishes she’d never asked, just let them have this moment.

“Never mind, I don't want to hear it.”

“That’s not how that works. I- I wanted to wait a little but we- we need to talk.”

“No we don’t,” Paige retorts stubbornly, fighting the tears threatening to spill, “I don’t want to.”

“Paige-”

The girl in question pushes herself off of Azzi, rising to sit on her knees, “this is meant to be the best day of my life Azzi.”

“I know- I’m sorr-”

“What game are you playing, Azzi? Why even fucking come if you were never gonna stay?” Paige spits out.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” Azzi says softly, as she sits up “maybe- maybe I should have stayed away. But it’s you Paige, it’s you and I- I’ve never been that good at staying away from you. And maybe I’m just really selfish but I- I told you once that I wanted to be there when your dreams came true and so- here I am.”

They’d barely known each other when Azzi had said that, when they had just been young innocent girls with a tentative friendship, lying in the grass and sharing their dreams. Back then, the words had thrown Paige off. She hadn’t quite understood why they had meant that much to her, why they had filled her with more warmth than the sun shining above them. But she’d tucked them away in a little corner of her heart hoping she’d understand it better when she was older. She’s older now and she understands. Except every single emotion she’d felt at fifteen is heightened with the realisation that the words had meant something to Azzi too. And-

Paige surges forward to kiss Azzi. She’s pretty sure this bipolar act of theirs will be the death of them someday but it’s the only thing in the moment that makes sense. Azzi is hesitant at first, clearly too in her head, always the overthinker, but she gives in when Paige squeezes at her waist. It’s not as if they’ve kissed that many times before but it feels familiar, a little bit like coming home. She moves to straddle Azzi’s hips and they can’t get any closer really with every bit of their bodies pressed together now, but Paige tries anyways, tries to etch please don’t leave me into the other girl’s skin. And she isn’t sure if the salt she can taste is from the tears steadily streaming from Azzi’s eyes or the ones free-falling from her own.

The minute Azzi pulls away, Paige misses her.

“We can’t-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Paige cuts Azzi off immediately, resting her forehead against the younger girl’s, “please.”

“Paige,” Azzi breathes out, “I have to go.”

“No you don’t,” Paige says stubbornly.

“Paige please-”

“Stay- fuck please- Azzi- just give me tonight. Tomorrow we can talk and you can-,” Paige swallows, not wanting to say leave out loud, “but please- tonight can we just pretend? Can you give me that? Fuck- can I just have tonight? Please- just- stay.”

Azzi lets out a shaky breath, “it won’t make it hurt less.”

“I know- fuck- I know but I just don’t want it to hurt right now.”

“Okay,” Azzi whispers slowly, thumb caressing Paige’s wet eyelashes, “okay, I’ll stay tonight.”

Paige kisses her again.

***

The UConn team falls in love with Azzi in a matter of hours. No one had been shocked when Paige had shown up to the after party a.k.a everybody gathering at the hotel bar, fashionably late and with a nervous Azzi teetering behind her. It had been awkward at first; everyone was a little unsure of how to act around the new presence. Not only was Azzi from a rival team, but everyone was at least a little aware of her tumultuous relationship with their star player. But then KK had wanted to film a tiktok that needed someone to do random camerawork and when everybody else had groaned, Azzi had quietly volunteered. Much to KK’s delight, Azzi turned out to be quite the cameraman. And that apparently was all that was needed and Paige marvels at the way Azzi just fits.

She moves around Paige’s team as if they’re just as much hers. One second she’s timing some stupid drinking game that KK and Ice are playing, the next she’s sitting in a corner laughing with a more subdued Ash and Q.

Aubrey and Ayanna gush over their girlfriend and Azzi’s coos over their pictures, a hint of wistfulness on her face when she meets Paige’s eyes.

The team does their routine of teasing Aaliyah’s about being vegetarian and Azzi diligently backs the Canadian up with a spiel of how tofu isn’t actually that bad. That gets her a hi-5 from Aaliyah despite the eye rolls from the rest of the team.

Despite being a little tipsy from having been dragged into doing shots with Amari and Carol, the two other people she knows pretty well, Azzi diligently lets Inés and Jana teach her little bits of Portuguese and Egyptian.

Even Nika sheds her frostiness, amused by Azzi’s curiosity to learn her native language beyond just the curse words, and teaches the younger girl a couple of words. Azzi rolls her eyes fondly when she realises she’s been taught to say UConn is the best team ever in Croatian and amidst Nika’s laughter, Paige knows is a hidden acceptance.

But the best part of it is that although Azzi’s suddenly being pulled in all different directions by various UConn girls, she never really leaves Paige’s side through it all. There’s always a little bit of them touching, whether it’s their shoulders or their knees, even when they’re both involved in completely different conversations and activities. It feels oddly domestic and Paige is reminded of the part after her state championship all over again. The burst of i want this forever that stirs in her chest makes her want to sob because it collides head first against a wall of this is only for tonight. And Paige knows that one night won’t ever be enough for her.

“Aye Paige’s girl, come play truth or shots with,” KK’s loud voice breaks through Paige’s cloud of distress and it’s eclipsed by the implication of those two words.

Paige’s girl. The phrases makes itself home in Paige’s heart, sounding so fucking right. She hasn’t let herself acknowledge it truly ever but that’s how it’s always been in Paige’s mind. It’s how she’s always thought of Azzi. As hers. Her Azzi. Her girl.

“I’m not-that’s not-” Azzi’s cheeks are tinted pink as she stutters through her words, withering under KK’s cocked eyebrow.

“Uh-okay if you say so,” KK rolls her eyes, holding her hands up in a sarcastic defensive position, “guess we’re starting off truth or shots by lying.”

The rest of the team laughs as Azzi’s blush grows even deeper and Paige can’t even try and hide her smile, her own neck tingling a little bit as she tucks herself into Azzi’s side. And it’s not real, they’re not anything, but in this moment it feels a little bit like they’re everything.

“You guys are sickening,” Ice accuses when she notices the two of them cheesily smiling at each other, “it makes me gag.”

“They’re cute. Leave them alone,” Caroline chastises, ever the supportive friend.

Azzi leans back against Paige’s arm as the group goes around the circle, asking each other ridiculous questions, cheering like little kids when their teammates opts to drink instead of answering a vaguely invasive question. When it’s her turn, Paige can already tell by the glint in KK’s eyes that her menace mini-me is about to cause trouble.

“Paigey cakes, when’s the last time you had sex?”

Next to her, Paige can feel Azzi stiffen immediately. The shot feels heavy in Paige’s hand as she seriously contemplates taking it. She knows why KK asked the question, probably having concocted some idea of exposing Paige and Azzi. She’d known by the waggling eyebrows that the whole team had thought the two of them were late because they’d been fucking but that couldn’t be further from the bitter truth.

Paige chances a look at Azzi’s face as she bites down on her lips. The younger girl’s face is stoically devoid of any emotion and Paige knows she’s thinking about the night of the crash (or as Paige likes to call it, the most terrifying night of her life) except-

“November, last year,” Paige says slowly and Azzi whips her face around to look at her, lips falling apart in shock.

“Don’t play, there’s no fucking way,” Ice guffaws and Paige shrugs.

“It’s the truth.”

“Bruh what the fuck,” KK looks a little shell-shocked, “how the fuck did you survive that long?”

“Some of us actually know what to do with our own fingers,” Paige quips defensively, trying to ignore the butterflies dancing in her stomach at the way Azzi’s still looking at her.

“I bet Azzi knows all about your fingers huh Azzi?” and even that, KK’s unhinged commentary, isn’t enough to get Azzi to pull her gaze away from Paige. It’s almost as if she hadn’t heard it all.

“You didn’t- that night?” Azzi manages to get out.

“Couldn’t do it,” Paige mumbles, “she wasn’t you.”

Despite the horde of people around them, they’re in their own little bubble now. There are a multitude of questions swimming in Azzi’s eyes and Paige wants to answer all of them if it means that maybe just maybe, she could prevent the inevitable misery tomorrow would bring.

“Okay Azzi, it’s your turn,” Amari’s voice draws Azzi’s attention away and Paige feels cold without the heat of it. She doesn’t know how she’ll survive tomorrow. Living in the present isn’t working and Paige finds herself already feeling the emptiness she knows will become her reality in a couple of hours. Her fingers tap an incessant pattern on her thigh as she tries to keep her focus on the game,

Azzi swallows nervously before mustering up a grin with false confidence, “I’m ready. Hit me with your best, I’m not drinking.”

“We’ll see about that,” KK smirks, diabolically rubbing her hands together, before she turns to Nika, “all yours Nik-Nik.”

The other girls “ooh”, knowing Nika’s reputation for being notoriously good at this game. The Croatian grins at Azzi, as she sits up from where she’d been lazily lying on the love seat, a glint of mischief in her eyes. And then her eyes meet the forlorn ones of her twin and something shifts. When she looks back at Azzi, there’s a more serious look on Nika’s face.

“Have you ever been in love?”

There’s pin drop silence once the gravity of the question registers. The light-hearted air in the room is replaced with anticipation, as all of Paige’s teammates look back and forth between their point guard and her best friend. Paige isn’t sure if she wants to know the answer, doesn’t know if there’s an answer that wouldn’t break her heart just a little bit. For a second, it looks like Azzi’s going to drink until she puts the shot down on her hand rest until-

“Yes,” she confesses in a whisper, and Paige feels her heart begin to race, “I have.”

“How many times?” Nika prods

“That’s not how the game works. I already answered your question.”

“Different rules for newcomers,” Nika shrugs. It’s a blatant lie but nobody says anything. Paige is still caught up in her own head and the other girls won't challenge Nika, not when they’re just as curious, “I get to ask questions til you drink.”

Azzi narrows her eyes, knowing it’s all bullshit and maybe if she wasn’t a little bit tipsy and competitive, maybe if she couldn’t feel every inch of Paige’s side pressed against her, she’d walk away but she can’t.

“Only once,” she answers.

“With your ex-girlfriend?” Nika asks. The way she raises an eyebrow suggests there’s only one right answer to the question. Paige doesn’t know if there’s a right or wrong answer, only that there’s an answer that would shatter her.

“No. I was never in love with her,” Azzi directs the answer towards Nika, but everyone knows it’s meant for Paige’s ears. And despite the tornado still roaring in her body, the blonde lets out a sigh of relief.

Nika’s intimidating demeanour cracks a little bit when that answer makes her smile, “are you in love with someone right now?”

Even if it’s not said out loud, the implication of Nika’s question, the someone, is clear. And suddenly Paige doesn’t want to hear the answer, not right now, not when they’re both a little tipsy, not when they’re surrounded by all her teammates, not when their future is so unclear.

“Drink,” Paige cuts in, holding the shot in front of Azzi, “don’t answer it.”

“Paige-”

“Drink Azzi,” Paige says firmly.

Azzi looks equal parts relieved and frustrated as she downs the drink, happy to have gotten out of the uncomfortable round of questioning but a little annoyed at losing in front of the UConn girls.

“And you said you wouldn’t drink,” Nika sneers, as she hi-5’s her teammates.

“Because you bent the rules; she did great,” Paige defends immediately and everyone snickers, the mood in the room returning to something more casual.

“So fucking pussywhipped,” Ice teases.

“Shut up,” Paige whines, hiding her face against Azzi’s shoulder as everybody else laughs. If the voices in head screaming this is just for tonight would shut up for a second, Paige thinks maybe she could fall in love with this moment, surrounded by her found family.

It’s almost 3 am when the team decides maybe they should start going to bed, knowing they have a morning flight back to Connecticut. Everyone else is still in a jovial mood, sufficiently drunk of both alcohol and the high of a championship but Paige’s stomach pools with dread. Every minute is a step closer to a goodbye, she’ll never be prepared to say.

They get to the lobby of the hotel when Paige turns to Azzi, ignoring her anxiety to be a nuisance instead.

“No,” Azzi says immediately when she sees Paige making grabby hands at her, “there’s literally an elevator Paige.”

“So? That just makes it easier for you. This is tradition.”

“In what world is this a tradition?” Azzi sighs exasperatedly.

“Since I won the state championship,” Paige grins, “pleeeeease, I’m tired, my feet hurt.”

Azzi gives her an unimpressed look, “you’ve been sitting for the last couple of hours.”

“And before that I was winning a championship, after beating your team by the way,” Paige’s smirk widens when Azzi guffaws at catching a stray.

“Oh fuck off. Reminding me of that is not the way to get me to carry you by the way.”

“C’mon Az, you know you’re gonna give in anyway. You know you wanna sleep, stop wasting time.”

Azzi rolls her eyes with a dramatic sight before doing exactly what she always does, giving into Paige, “hop on then you big baby.”

Paige cheers, latching on Azzi’s back as her knees circle around the other girl’s waist. Unlike when they were younger, Azzi’s doesn’t stumble anymore at the additional weight. She’s stronger now, completely solid and steady underneath Paige and that absolutely doesn’t trigger any inappropriate thoughts in the older girl’s brains, absolutely.

“Y’all are so cringe,” KK crinkles up her face when she turns to look at them as they wait for the elevator, but there’s a certain amount of fondness in her voice, “but Azzi’s cool. Much cooler than you P boogers. You should bring her around more often.”

Paige’s smile vanishes in tandem with Azzi letting out a strangled noise. KK looks between the two of them, slowly realising maybe she’d just put her foot in her mouth.

“Yeah, maybe,” Paige answers noncommittally, trying to keep her voice steady.

Much to her relief, the elevator dings open, saving her from having to say anything more. She wraps her arms tighter around Azzi, burying her face as far into the other girl’s neck as she can and closing her eyes, trying to lose herself in Azzi, instead of in the jail of her own mind.

She doesn’t look up from where she’s nestled into Azzi’s skin, when the rest of her teammates start towards their own separate rooms, telling Azzi how lovely it was to meet her.

“Can you get off her back, so I can give her a hug?” Ice pinches Paige’s arm but the older girl just shrugs her off.

“No. Go hug someone else.”

“Bro you’re so fucking annoying,” Ice groans and Azzi sends her an apologetic wink but it doesn’t go unnoticed that she doesn’t try to shake Paige off like she normally would. It heals something in Paige to know that Azzi doesn’t want to let go either. And she doesn’t understand why they’re doing this, why they’re fighting this, when neither of them want to.

“I think your teammates might like me better than you,” Azzi teases when they finally get back to the room and Paige climbs off of her back. The blonde is too lost in her thoughts to come back with a smart quip. And of course her best friend notices it immediately, nudging her quietly, “P? You good?”

Paige blinks up at Azzi, and even before she says the word, she knows Azzi’s already read them in her eyes, “I don’t want you to go.”

“Paige,” Azzi sighs tiredly, “what happened to pretending tonight?”

“Fuck pretending,” Paige blames the alcohol for how loud her voice comes out, guilty only because it makes the girl in front of her flinch, “I don’t want just tonight. It’s no where near fucking enough. I want forever. With you.”

“That’s not- Paige- we live on different sides of the country.”

“For now, but we can make it work. It’s us,” Paige pleads desperately.

Azzi scoffs, stepping away from Paige, “you say that like it a good thing.”

“What-”

“Us! We don’t- it’s not- being ‘us’ is not a good thing Paige. May us from before but us now? Us now is complicated and messy and hard and I just- I can’t do this Paige.”

“You can- we can- Azzi- just- think about it okay- sleep on it- you’ll see. You’ll see, I’m right.”

Azzi shakes her head, closing her eyes as a single teardrop leaks out, “you’re making this so fucking hard Paige.”

“I don’t want to- I’m sorry- I’m so sorry baby,” the term of endearment slips through Paige’s lips before she can catch it, “but I need you to think about it once please.”

She moves to cup Azzi’s cheeks, thumb caressing away the tears, “please.”

“Okay, okay,” Azzi nods, resting her forehead against Paige’s, “I’ll think about it.”

They’re quiet as they get changed for bed, thinking about the same thing. Co-existing together comes naturally to them after years of inhabiting each other’s space and the. there's no getting in each other’s way, even if they’re both dead silent. It’s awkward when they finally get into bed, both of them lying on their back, resolutely staring up at the ceiling. Paige is the first one to move, turning onto her side so she can face Azzi. The moon shines against Azzi’s face and Paige thinks that so much has changed, but Azzi’s still that kind of beautiful, the same kind of beautiful Paige had thought of her as since the state championship.

“What was your answer going to be,” she asks quietly.

“To what?”

“To Nika’s question. Are you in love with someone right now?”

Azzi hesitates a little bit, before turning her own body to face Paige, “you know the answer Paige, you don’t need me to say it.”

Paige doesn’t prod, knowing they were too volatile for her to keep pushing. Instead she reaches over to intertwine their hands together.

“Do you know what my answer would have been?”

“Yeah,” Azzi says softly, squeezing her hands, “yeah I do.”

Maybe there’s peace in knowing. Or maybe there’s only more pain. Paige doesn’t know if the truth sets her free, doesn’t know if she could ever even be set free from the shackles that bind her to Azzi, doesn’t think she even wants to be set free. But at least Azzi knows too. Maybe there’s peace in drowning together.

***

Paige wakes up in a panic when she reaches over and finds the other side of the bed empty. She gets up with a jolt, eyes frantically searching for Azzi, until they finally land on the girl sitting on the couch next to the bed.

“Fuck,” Paige’s voice is still wracked with sleep, “I thought you left.”

“That’s more your style,” Azzi says and Paige flinches at the reminder, “how’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good. How about you?”

“Pretty shit actually” Azzi admits, “I woke up every two seconds, scared you’d be gone.”

“Az-”

“You asked me to believe in you- to believe in us and I-” Azzi draws in a sharp breath and Paige knows she’s not going to like where this is going, “I want to- I really, really, wish I could. But I don’t. I can’t- I can’t be with you Paige- not when I’m scared you’re going to break my heart every second.”

“Azzi,” Paige scrambles across the bed, stopping when the girl in question holds her hands up. Everything in her feels like it’s on fire. There are no burn marks on her skin but she swears she’s been turned to ashes underneath.

“And you deserve better than that too Paige. You deserve someone who- who’s not scared. Who can give you all of herself without- without holding back and I- I can’t do that.”

“You can- fuck- Azzi you can- please,” desperation leaks through every syllable as Paige fights what she knows is a losing battle.

“Not right now. Too much has happened between us and we can’t- we can’t just ignore all of that and start something new- maybe someday- but not right now.”

Azzi stands up from her seat, hesitantly walking over to Paige’s side of the bed. She cups Paige’s face, watery dark brown eyes meeting crystal blue ones that are glistening with tears.

“Azzi please,” Paige begs, feeling everything slip away before she’d even had a chance to fight for it.

Azzi presses her lips to Paige’s forehead, holding them there for what feels like the briefest of seconds until she’s pulling away, “I’m sorry P.”

And then she’s gone and every part of Paige’s heart is gone with her.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

235 notes · View notes

glassartpeasants · 22 days ago

Text

One Piece Asylum Au .01

Asylum Patients!Kidd, Zoro, Law, Luffy, Sanji, Killer, x F!Reader

Warnings: asylum au, mention of self harm (not in detail just in passing), medical malpractice, angst, mention of death, I AM NOT A MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL/THERAPIST

A/N: Alright so the majority won the vote for female protag, Im sorry my gn bros just know that i do love you guys <3 also, this chapter just has Luffy and Zoro in it so far

prologue

music playlist

~~~

Pulling into the parking lot, the view of your new job made you swallow the lump in your throat. While yes, you’ve already taken a tour or ‘orientation,’ this would have been your first actual day on the job. You’ve studied long and hard for this opportunity, yet you couldn’t shake the shiver that’d run down your spine when you entered the hospital.

Taking a deep breath, you put your car in park before stepping out and making your way to the front doors. The cold metal of the doorknob bit against your skin as the door squeaking echoed off the walls.

The eerie silence that was once outside was now filled with murmurs and patients' voices. The silence of the morning is replaced by the talking of oneself, and conversations about god knows what. LED lights shine down on you as you take off your coat, the biting cold of fall now gone.

Leaving the entryway, you can see equipment lining the walls of the hallways: some old, some new. There was even one that looked like it hadn’t been used in decades. It looked familiar, but you couldn’t name it exactly. Walking up, you notice another thing lying next to it, which also catches your attention. Touching it, you notice it’s made of cloth and leather before it finally clicks back into your mind after entirely unfolding it. You’ve seen it in your textbook while studying the old medicine practices in college—specifically, those they deemed mentally ill in those days.

“Are these…straight jackets? I thought they stopped making these in the 1950’s. How the hell is this still in such good condition?” While sure you remember the head psychiatrist talking about some of the patients being in restraints, you thought it was just something she was joking about. A little way to spook you or whatever. Because who in their right mind would use these things in the 21st century?

You pulled back before wiping your hand off your pants, as touching it felt wrong. Looking each way down the hallway, you quickly pull out your phone, turning it on to snap a picture of the jacket before swiftly putting it away. The urge to be sneaky and secretive at your new job felt crazy, yet something inside you told you to be.

Taking another quick look around to ensure nobody saw you, you rush to the employee break room, at least where you remember it to be.

“Okay, if over is the kitchen…and the dining room is over there…then the break room should be-ah!” Turning the corner, your met with a patient wearing maroon clothing. Most likely, uniform/scrubs for the patients since you didn’t see a name tag.

“Oh gosh, you scared me, haha. But it's okay. Are you lost? Do you need help?” You approach them with a calm and cool voice, not wanting to agitate or spook them. “What’s your name? I’m Dr. (L/N), I’m new here.”

The patient refuses to speak but looks at you with a less guarded look. Examining them from afar, you see the peculiar straw hat on his head.

“I like your hat. It suits you well.”

“...you think so?”

Sending a smile, your happy that the patient finally felt comfortable enough to speak at least a few words. “Yep! Can you tell me your name so I can know the owner of such a cool hat?”

“I’m Luffy.” His voice was lighter as he smiled at your compliment. His aura of standoffishness melted as he faced you fully.

You remember the head psychiatrist talking about him. His case and the notes you wrote down to help you. “Oh, Luffy! I’ve heard good things about you. I’ve been waiting to meet you! What are you doing right now, huh? It’s early in the morning. Wouldn’t you like to sleep?”

Luffy’s face drops as it seems that the happiness that was once there has disappeared. “No. I hate sleeping.”

“Oh? Why is that?” Luffy stays silent as he looks away from you. “It’s okay. If you don’t wanna talk about it right now, we don’t have to. How about you show me around? Specifically, where I can clock in and officially hang out with you?”

This seemed to make him feel better as he smiled. “Yeah! This way!”

“Perfect. Lead the way.”

~~~

After clocking in and grabbing your walkie-talkie, you allow Luffy to show you around. Of course, you’ve seen it yesterday, but he didn’t need to know that. He seemed content with helping you, and having the residents be comfortable and safe with you would be in your best interests. This was the perfect time to start that journey.

“Do you have any friends, Luffy? Surely someone as cool as you has friends.”

“Yeah! I have my crew! Zoro is my swordsman; he’s working on being the world’s greatest swordsman! Then there’s Sanji, who’s the cook! He makes the best food in the whole world, and he’s gonna see the all-blue!”

“Wow, sounds like an interesting few. I’ll have to meet them.” It’s nice to be able to look into Luffy’s mind without probing him with personal questions. “Do you have any other friends?” Luffy was practically buzzing with excitement to the point you thought he’d start bouncing off the walls.

“There's Torao! Jaggy sometimes whenever he’s allowed out of his room.” Raising a brow, you look at Luffy. You’ve never heard those names before. Could they be part of a different wing of the hospital? Or did they perhaps get new patients after you left yesterday?

“Oh? Are they new? I don’t think I’ve met them before. Do you know their room numbers?”

“104 and 105! You should meet them. Torao is a surgeon, and Jaggy is a mechanic! Their pirates just like me!”

Ah, there it was. The pirate delusions you were told about. Maybe you could peek into his mind more and ask questions. Pulling out your notepad, you begin to write down some notes of the things Luffy is saying. The most important is the pirate fixation.

“Really now? Tell me more about this pirate crew you have.” Luffy begins to open his mouth, but before he can speak, a loud voice booms through the halls through the intercom.

“BREAKFAST IS READY! PLEASE ESCORT PATIENTS TO THE DINING ROOM!”

The voice repeats those words three times before the intercom goes silent. Why couldn’t they have just said it through the walkie-talkie? No doubt, patients could hear the noise from their rooms, and how it might cause some patients distress who are scared of loud noises. Maybe you could speak to the head about it.

“Well, that was pretty loud. But I guess it’s time to eat. We can walk there together, but I have to go get more pa-friends. Yes, friends.” Thankfully, you managed to catch yourself before anything.

Leading the way, you and Luffy walk to the dining room. The sunlight lighting the room through the windows. Showing the sunrise, colors of pink, orange, and yellow painting the sky.

“Is there assigned seating, Luffy? Or can you guys sit wherever?”

“It’s assigned.” The voice of the head psychiatrist comes from behind you, causing you to jump from your spot.

“Ah! Jeez, Dr. Cross, you scared me. I didn’t hear you coming.” You must be easily jumpy today because you don’t think you’ve felt your heart stop as many times as it has in so long.

“Apologies. Here, I will take Luffy to his seat. I need you to grab 102’s food from the kitchen and bring it to him. He bit a nurse last night, so he’s in seclusion.”

“What? He seemed okay yesterday. Did something set him off? Was there an incident?” A feeling of unease races down your spine as Dr. Cross narrows her eyes at you. Why was she seemingly displeased with you asking questions? These are reasonable questions, given the occupation you both find yourself in.

“Nothing. He just snapped. It’s a common occurrence.” Turning her head, she grabbed Luffy’s upper arm and began to lead him to his seat.

Her seemingly aggressive behavior toward patients set alarm bells ringing in your head. There was no need to use force when Luffy was calm and cooperative. Making a mental note, you watched her for a second more before going to begin the task she gave you.

~~~

“Zoro, are you awake? Breakfast is ready. It’s biscuits and gravy with orange juice and scrambled eggs.” Knocking on the door, you unlock it before entering. “I’m coming in, okay? No need to panic.”

Upon opening the door, your greeted with the sight of a muzzled green-haired man sitting in the corner of the room. He has his back to the wall and his gaze aimed directly at the door—at you.

“Hey Zoro, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Dr. (L/N). I just started today, but I’ve been waiting to meet you. I brought you some breakfast.” Slowly but surely, you make your way to him before setting it down in front of him.

“Can I come near you to talk your mask off? I want you to be able to eat and gain some nutrition.” There was a moment's silence before a grunt could be heard emitting from behind the mask. Taking that as a yes, you stay crouched down as you wobbly made your way to him.

You quickly show him your hands. “Look, I’ve got nothing on me, it’s okay.” Moving your hands, you unbuckle the clip at the back of his mask. When you withdraw your hands, you take the mask with you instead of letting it hit the floor. “There, all gone. Don’t worry; it’s not going back on anytime soon.” Shoving the mask in your pocket as you speak.

Standing up, you feel the walkie-talkie in your other pocket begin to go off. “Dr. (L/N), are you still in 102?” It didn’t sound like Dr. Cross on the other line, so you grabbed the walkie-talkie to communicate with the person on the other line.

“Yes, I am. Is there something wrong? Who’s talking right now?”

“It’s Nurse Piper. I’m on Cedar Wing, and I’m having trouble with a patient. Dr. Cross is unavailable at the moment, and I’ve already gotten another nurse in here.” You could hear the stress and exhaustion in the nurse's voice. Looking down at Zoro, you reply.

“Understood. I’ll be right there. What’s the room number?”

“333 on Cedar Wing.” Letting out a hum, you put the radio in your pocket.

“Alright, Zoro. I have to go for now, but I'm sure we’ll see one another soon. Enjoy your breakfast.” Turning your back, you go to the door. As soon as you open the door, the sound of frantic footsteps rushing towards you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Zoro sprinting at you at full speed.

You practically teleported when you left the room and closed the door behind you, locking it. It was only a millisecond before you heard Zoro pounding the door and screaming.

“Bring them back, you stupid bitch! I know you have them! I just saw them! Give them back to me!”

Without thinking, you try to back up, only to trip on your own feet, causing you to land on your butt. The pain didn’t even register as his obscenities and bangs against the door filled your mind.

It was apparent you being there upset him, so you didn’t want to get him more worked up, so you scurried away from his door. Darting to 333. His transition from docile to hostile was very concerning, something that obviously needed to be looked into. The only thing that you can think of is that when you turned your back to him. Was he waiting for an opening to attack you, or was it a triggered reaction? When you get done helping the nurse with 333, you’ll do some more digging into Zoro’s files to see if anything pops up.

Making your way to the elevator, your shoes echo in the hallways. The smell of disinfectant burns your nose, making it itch, as the scenery around you feels cold and unwelcoming. The aura the place gave wasn’t one you felt was appropriate for helping patients. You wanted them to feel comfortable like this is a place where they’d be safe. Some call this place home, so it should feel like a home.

There were so many things about the hospital you wanted to change. How did they expect people to be on their best behavior if they feel outcasted?

You'd have to think about it later; right now, you were helping the ones who needed it most, including co-workers.

~~~

It felt as if your body was on fire as you sat down on your office chair, exhausted and out of breath. After what felt like forever, you managed to calm patient 333 down. Having to wrestle a 6’3 man trying to cut off all his limbs with a butter knife he somehow stole was not on your to-do list for your first day. You knew you’d have to document the incident, so wiping the sweat off your brow, you log into your computer. With a few taps of the mouse and a password or two, you're finally able to document and enter the patient's files.

Name: Buggy, ‘The Clown’; real name unknown

Age: 39

Height: 6’3

Location: Floor 3, Room 333 on Cedar Wing

Incident Detail: At 9am, it came to the attention of nurses that 333 had obtained a butter knife. We thankfully caught him in time before he could harm himself or others. There was a struggle to get the knife back, lasting a total of twenty minutes. Most of said time was trying not to get stabbed by the patient. We had to calm down the patient with a sedative Dr. Cross had prescribed to him when he gets aggressive—syringe injection.

Entering the incident, you read up more about the man in 333. Why was he here? Does he have a history of self-harm? What was his treatment plan?

After an altercation with ex-best friend, he was sent to New World Asylum in order to seek help. He has told nurses to tell his neighbors to ‘be quiet’ when there’s been no patients near him. Will steal things reflective or he deems worth a significant amount of money: quarters, metal water bottles, utensils, pieces of trash, anything.

Has been influenced by a new patient into becoming a ‘pirate.’ Convinced he has a superpower or ‘devil fruit ability’ called ‘Chop Chop.’ Claims he can split parts of his body off and control them. He has cut off his pinkie finger after being left unsupervised. Must NOT be in the same room as 101 at any point in time. Will get very agitated and violent.

“Luffy? Why does he not like him?” Sure, Luffy’s a little out of it, but so far, you haven’t seen anything worth getting angry for. Then again, you’ve only been working here for three hours if you look at the clock. You got here at 7am, and it’s 10 now. How were you supposed to know someone with only three hours of entering their life. You honestly had your work cut out for you.

~~~

You surrounded yourself with files of each patient you were assigned to, determined to see anything to ensure they got the important care they needed to integrate back into society. Incident reports, pictures, documents on why they were sent here, to begin with—anything and everything.

Yes, you were already told about the reasons they were here yesterday, but you still wanted to read it for yourself. Learn from the source rather than word of mouth. But to Dr. Cross’s credit, she did nail it spot on—everything matching to a T.

Upon looking into Zoro’s file, you also look and write triggers for each correlation from your encounter with him and possible memories of the reason he’s at the hospital. As you pull up pictures of him before the incident, it’s here; you see his lover's face, and it clicks. The two of you had the same colored hair and seemingly wore it the exact same way. So when you turned your back to him, he must’ve thought you were his lover for a moment, so upon turning around and he saw it wasn’t them, he thought you had taken his lover away.

“Hmm, this is a good start to work on when we have our first session to try and talk about everything.” You write yourself a note to change the style of your hair before entering his room, put on a hat, or simply walk backward.

While some may say you're doing too much, why shouldn't you? This is their home, and it’d only take a moment to change. You could go outside and look however you wanted at home. And since this is technically where they live, they should feel safe and have a sense of self in their own sanctuary.

Putting your files and notes aside, you check your emails, wanting to see if there have been any updates about the patients or their schedules.

Seeing the exclamation point near the inbox, you click on it. The email was personally addressed to you with Dr. Cross’s name as the sender. As you open it, you see a detailed time of who and when you’ll need to evaluate and speak to. Each having their own precautions as to ‘danger level’ or how easily they are to agitation. By the looks of it, she wants you to start off slow with whom she deems the ‘easiest.’

Grabbing your clipboard, you put down the proper paperwork, all your questions, and suggestions before leaving your seat. With an exhale, you grab the doorknob and open it.

“Perfect! You're here!”

The unexpected surprise of an unknown nurse has you gripping your heart and jumping back into your office. “Jesus! Why didn’t you knock? Does everyone around here enjoy scaring me..?.”

“I was going to! You just opened it!”

As your heart slows down, you finally grasp her appearance. She was an older woman in her late fifties or early sixties, with years of nursing etched into her skin. She smiled welcomingly and seemed genuinely ecstatic to see you. Coughing, you awkwardly introduced yourself.

“Well, anyways, my names Dr. (L/N). I haven’t seem to have met you yet.” Putting out your hand, you wait for her to shake it. Instead, she pulls you in for a hug before grabbing your hands as she pulls away. Thankfully, your clipboard was safely tucked under your arm.

“It’s so good to finally see a new face! We haven’t gotten one in so long! Your such a pretty lass. I’m sure everyone will adore you! But where are my manners? I’m Nurse Mallory. I’ve been working at New World Asylum for the last 41 years! I know this place like the back of my hand. Any questions, just ask me!”

Her happiness was almost suffocating. With how bright she was, it was like looking into the sun without sunglasses. You'd like to say you were a positive person yourself, but this seemed like a whole other level. That or handling and being all over the place in the span of at least four hours had turned your brain into mush, and finally, talking to someone who didn’t seem as stressed as everyone else was a change of pace.

“Alright. I’ll keep that noted. Thank you, and it was lovely to meet you, Mallory.” Smiling, you grip your clipboard and pull out your pen.

“It was lovely to meet you too, dear! Oh! Word of advice: perhaps bring a satchel with you. It can get pretty busy here, and you won’t have time to go to your office and grab something before being off to your next patient or helping to calm a rowdy patient.”

With a questioning look, you stop moving and look at her. “A satchel? wouldn’t that be a safety risk to myself and/or the patient if they got a hold of it? Or saw files that weren’t theirs in the risk as well?” You ask.

“Nonsense, darling! Every doctor carries one! Dr. Cross and Dr. Philip both have bags to carry things around. You’ll be just fine.” Her smile put you at ease and unease at the same time. But the prospect of being free of running back and forth constantly and being late did sound nice.

“I’ll think about it. But thank you for the advice.” Waving her goodbye once more, you turn to make your way to Pine Wing 101.

Monkey D. Luffy.

~~~

Knocking on the door, you make your prescence known to avoid anything that could upset him. Better to be safe then sorry.

“Luffy? It's me, Dr. (L/N). I’ve come to grab you for our appointment today. I simply wish to talk. Nothing serious today.” Entering his room, you see him standing on his bed, seemingly getting ready to jump off.

“Dr. (L/N)! Look! Watch this!” You were quick to scramble towards him. Wanting to avoid any unnecessary injuries.

“Woah, Luffy, wait! Before you jump off the bed, let’s talk first, alright? I’ve heard that jumping off gives you a huge headache after. So how about we wait, hmm? How are we supposed to learn more about one another if your head is pounding? So let's get off the bed, and after we talk, you can show me.”

Luffy frowns before looking at you. “You promise you’ll stay after so I can show you?” Promising to stay and watch him jump off the bed and hurt himself wasn’t on your to-do list, so some word play had to be involved.

“I’ll stay for as long as I can. So let's get down and go to the small office. I even had a nurse put some candy for you guys.” The sound of chocolate has Luffy perking up before safely getting off the bed and rushing toward you.

“Perfect! Now the room is right around the corner.” Leading him out of his room, you enter the office.

The space was nothing like you expected. Instead of what should feel like a welcoming environment, felt the exact opposite. The walls were a dark red, and the wooden floor looked like it hadn’t been replaced in years. Ratty couches and chairs. The coffee table had a piece missing out of it, for god's sake! If this were to be your new ‘office’ for talking to patients specifically, then there were to be drastic changes. Starting with the ratty decaying couches and coffee table.

“Apologies for the mess. This…will be much different next time you're in here.” You lead him to the couch before sitting yourself on the chair. “So how about we start by telling something about ourselves, hmm? To break the ice? I’ll go first. For example, something that makes me calm is a nice calming song playing as I bathe. What’s something that makes you calm or helps you wind down when you're upset?” Luffy stayed quiet before speaking.

“I like to eat meat! Eat and hang out with my friends!”

“Ooo, that sounds like fun! What do you like to do with your friends?”

“Sail! Be pirates! Once we get out of Impel Down then we’re off back to sailing!” Impel Down? They didn’t say anything about that on his chart. Could this be a new delusion? Is he getting worse?

“Sailing, huh? Any particular reason you think? Or is it just something you wanted to try randomly?" Grabbing your clipboard, you write down everything so far before waiting for his answer.

“My brothers and I used to make boats all the time! We’d tie up sticks together and see if they’d float on the lake! We even saved up money to buy our own boat one day! We were gonna be pirates together!” Luffy said happily before his grin turned into a sad look. His shoulders slumped as the gleam in his eye dwindled.

“That sounds like fun. So sailing gives you a feeling of nostalgia and an urge to press forward?” Based on his file, which says his brother's death caused him to be here in the first place, it comes to click that perhaps the pirate world he speaks of is a way to try and remain happy so as not to confront the reality of his brother's death.

Yet he made it sound like there were two brothers. From what you’ve read, it sounds like there’s only been one. Perhaps there's something even deeper to Luffy than you initially thought.

But you’ll save the speculation for later. At this moment, it was about showing them you were a safe space—a person he could talk to if something was wrong, a person they all could talk to.

~~~

here ya'll go. I like drawing (Y/N) idk why

You in your perfectly appropriate therapy room

#one piece x reader #luffy x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #dark content things

66 notes · View notes

bsydelver · 5 months ago

Note

Can u do a Fluff story of Tamaki amajiki crushing on a goth/alternative reader

Part 1 depending on how well this actually does.

———>part 2

@wolvwa helped with this because I can’t write fluff for the life of me.

Note: YESSS, I have never wrote fluff; I only have written aus/general story. THIS IS REALLY EXCITING SO HERE WE GO— THIS WILL BE A CHAPTER OF TAMAKI JUST ADMIRING THE READER.

warnings: English isn’t my first language, writer has never written fluff 🙏, Reader has piercings, Nejire wingman (not really, she just tries to help Tamaki get out of his bubble when it comes to talking to you)

Summary: just read because this is left on a cliffhanger.

SEMI-PROLOGUE

You have been friends with the big three for how long now? All you could remember from the start of your friendship that, surprisingly, Tamaki was the one who even got you into their group in the first place- you were closer to Nejire at first for the most part though due to your shared interests and her fascination with your quirk and unique appearance. People could tell you were ‘different’ in terms of appearance, music taste and lots of other things but in your opinion: you never felt out of place with the group and they always find a way to include you into anything.

Whilst you were in your train of thoughts, you got cut off by Nejire calling for you, with Tamaki as her company, a smile came across your face and you noticed Tamaki doing a half smile as well, “It’s a day off today, do you wanna hang out at my dorm? Mirio said he’d be coming later,” Nejire’s personality could never make you decline her requests but with Tamaki accompanying her: there wasn’t a universe where you’d be refusing to hang out with them. Nejire didn’t let a second pass by after you had agreed and she practically pulled you to her dorm.

Silence filled the room as Nejire scrambled through her stuff looking for anything that could entertain you guys. You couldn’t help but notice the indigo haired-boy staring at you from the corner of your age, you couldn’t say you weren’t enjoying it but you thought that maybe he wanted to talk so you turned your head out of the blue which made Tamaki look down visibly flustered. The sound of a person rummaging through years worth of stuff stopped as Nejire approached you, “I couldn’t really find anything,” that was a strange occurance if you were being fully honest: Nejire always had something for you guys to do, wether it was repetitive or random, there was always something; you thought maybe Nejire just needed an excuse to do something but as you examined her face in an attempt to predict what she was trying to do, you noticed her and the Indigo-colored pair of eyes exchanging stairs that contrasted in expressions but still hinted towards something which you just shrugged off.

Nejire started to slowly get closer to you which wasn’t new, she always did that when she was about to analyse someone’s whole face so you didn’t back away, “Me and Tamaki always thought your piercings were really cool,” hearing Nejire say that made you flattered and you looked to Tamaki to confirm only to see his face buried in his hands which made you slightly smirk, “Did this one hurt?” Nejire pointed at the spider bites piercing you had, “well it d-” before you could answer you were interrupted by another one of her questions, “In fact, did all of them hurt?”

“Well it depends on your pain tolerance and the loca-” you were once again interrupted but this time not by Nejire but by a curious Tamaki, “How did you know which one you would look good with?..” Tamaki wasn’t holding eye contact with you as he asked, he was actually looking down at the floor more than anything, you couldn’t tell what the question exactly implied as it could’ve been many things but you didn’t want to make the environment awkward, “I would try filters or have my friends’ insights on them!” Tamaki looked amazed and it was a cute sight if you were being honest, his eyes had a shine in them that glowed when he opened them more and this moment was one of the times he was opening his eyes more, “Wait you have friends as cool as you?!” Nejire said in a tone filled with excitement, “You think I’m cool?” you raised your eyebrows and you weren’t asking this as a normal question, it was more friendly-teasing; “Actually, it isn’t only me— Tamaki was just tell-” Nejire’s quote-on-quote exposé was fortunately, for Tamaki , cut off by the creak of the door opening, “MIRIO!”

71 notes · View notes

puzzleglum · 3 months ago

Text

I wrote a theory for the webcomic The Glass Scientists almost 2 weeks ago. Originally posted in the Disqus comment section underneath last week's update. Before another new page drops on Monday, I figured I might want to share it here on Tumblr, too! If only for my own satisfaction in archiving.

Some small parts aren't quite relevant anymore, I think, but we'll see whether the conclusions hold up, soon. My best guess would be within the next update or two. In the meantime, enjoy!

*******

THEORY TIME!!

I’ve stayed awake one night early last week thinking about what Jekyll could possibly be planning, thoughts swirling. And I think I figured out a solid possibility. Before I get to that, though, I first want to lay down ALL the pieces that brought me to my conclusion. Every piece of supporting evidence I could think of is here.

(Warning: this got pretty long.)

EXHIBIT A:

Whatever he’s planning has to deal with all of what he talked about here:

I want to pay particular attention here to Jekyll conflating his own reputation with that of the Society. In his mind, the two are inseparable. And for good reason, but I’m not about to summarize the whole comic’s events. My point is, his plan HAS to save his, and by extension, the Society’s reputation somehow.

And it doesn’t matter WHAT it takes. He was willing to lock Hyde away (for a few weeks, mind) to save the Exhibition and the Society, after all. SOMEONE had to take the fall for the street fire. He didn’t want to have to do this, but he was pushed into a corner.

Now, his first plan, when his form became unstable and the sudden transformations started, was to go to his office and search for a spare potion he missed. But that plan is right out the door, cause he scoured the entire place:

Now he’s pushed into a corner again, with the WHOLE Society at stake. If the public finds out Jekyll’s secret, they’re both ruined.

And now?

Only a matter of time until the world finds out his secret.

Time for EXHIBIT B:

Jekyll’s plan, I think, is unlikely to be an Un-Hyde potion of some sort. He didn’t even know how the original potion worked exactly! And since he doesn’t have any of the old potion left, he probably can’t make a modified version of that either. But, if he still had SOME of the ingredients left, but not all, perhaps he could make a different sort of potion. Perhaps.

But my main point is that I don’t think Jekyll’s plan is a potion to get rid of Hyde. I also think it would be too convenient if he suddenly figured out how to make an Un-Hyde potion that works. On a narrative level, it would be too easy. That’s not his plan. No easy outs for our dear Doctor.

EXHIBIT C:

We know there is going to be a moment that will reflect this chapter’s cover. Sage told us so!

Right here, at the last sentence:

Obviously, it’s not going to be a literal parallel. It’s more about intent, I think. Jekyll is going to do Something, and that Something is NOT going to be good for Hyde. But, and this is key here, it’s not going to be good for Jekyll, either.

They both go down together. I can’t stress this point enough. Jekyll is not planning on coming out of this unscathed. But, remember, his plan HAS to save the Society’s reputation somehow. The world can’t know the truth.

(EDIT: my thoughts on the details of the parallel have evolved since. Now I think it will end up being a lot more literal than I initially thought. See this reply I wrote for more details on that. The key point of this Exhibit remains the same, however.)

EXHIBIT D:

This page feels like Jekyll is saying goodbye, somehow. Not only is he not coming out of this unscathed, I get the strong sense that he’s not planning on coming back at all. Clearly, he doesn’t want to do this. But he feels like he HAS to, for the sake of the Society. He’s resigned to it.

Someone has to take the fall.

Now, you’ve all been reading my reasoning thus far, probably wondering where I’m going with all this. Don’t worry. I only have three exhibits left, and then I will try to bring it all together. Thank you for your patience. I mean it.

EXHIBIT E:

Remember this very interesting bit about how Jekyll and Hyde’s mindscape works?

And a moment later, Hyde’s inner monologue says this:

“Only, I have a funny feeling that, once I went all the way down, I wouldn’t be able to find my way back up again.”

You may or may not already see where I’m going with this. :)

EXHIBIT F:

Remember this tweet by Sage? Since I first saw it a year ago, I’ve never forgotten it.

Now, I’ve seen different people theorize whether this is Hyde or Jekyll in Hyde’s body. Well, I’m going to make THREE (hopefully reasonable) assumptions:

1: This is Hyde, not Jekyll in Hyde’s body.

2: This panel will take place in THIS chapter, the one we’re still in, or early in the next.

3: Hyde’s distraught, despairing expression is caused (at least in part) by whatever Jekyll did. His plan.

(There is one more assumption I could state here, but I’ll save it for later. Keep this panel in the back of your mind for a bit if you want.)

And for the FINAL, EXHIBIT G:

Remember the trick Hyde used to force Jekyll to take control again? Forcing a transformation?

And now, remember THIS PAGE?

It’s probably safe to assume that this, too, works both ways. :)))

And NOW? I’ve run out of exhibits! Well! Well well well!!

(This panel is not relevant, I just wanted to use it. :D for fun!)

(Also, thank you so much to anyone who’s read this far?? Seriously! This thing is way longer than I planned!!)

My theory is that, quite simply, Jekyll is going to sacrifice himself to save the Society. To save his reputation, and thus, the Society’s.

I don’t think he can get rid of Hyde. But he doesn’t have to. He just needs to preserve his secret, because nobody in the overall public can know that Jekyll and Hyde are the same.

And in order to do that, his form needs to be stable. Remember Exhibit A? The big secret is in danger because he keeps transforming back and forth with no volition. Well, he’s got a solution for that.

Jekyll just needs to let Hyde take control. Permanently.

How? By going into the deepest parts of their mindscape, forcing Hyde to be at the front. Never to be seen again, never to return. His secret will disappear with him.

In order to “stabilize” their form, their body, and stop the sudden transformations, Jekyll doesn’t have to get rid of Hyde. He most likely can’t. But he can get rid of himself. He can certainly try, at least.

If Hyde will never stop fighting Jekyll, then he just needs to let him "win."

More than that, he can let Hyde take the fall for his own disappearance. Remember the will Lanyon found?

Lanyon straight up thought Hyde was blackmailing Jekyll because of this!

Picture it. In the public eye, if Jekyll disappears, or thought to have been murdered, and it looks like Hyde’s fault, that’s just unfortunate! Jekyll would simply be an innocent victim! Hell, the public might be inclined to show the Society sympathy because of it.

No secrets revealed, no ruined reputations. Hyde goes to prison, and that’s that. The Society itself is saved. All at the cost of both Jekyll and Hyde. And a good leader would do whatever is necessary…right?

The End.

This is Jekyll’s final, desperate gambit. And that’s my theory.

One final bit. See it as an afterword!

Lanyon seems about to rush in and try to stop Jekyll from whatever he’s doing in the office. But me, I think it’s already too late.

When he runs in there, all he’ll see is Hyde, and, perhaps, a broken mirror.

(That’s the other assumption I’m making about the panel with what’s supposed to be Hyde picking up glass shards. Just picture the drama of it all!!)

AND THAT’S ALL, FOLKS!!! Thank you for reading!!! :DDDDD

I’d love to hear what others think! What did I miss? What do you agree, or disagree, with? Feel free to tell me all of it! I love discussing what might happen next!!

EDIT: There is now an Addendum to this theory where I clarify some things I plain forgot to when I first posted it. PLUS, there's an EXTRA Exhibit I came up with later! Link to the comment here, in case it might get lost in the replies.

*******

That's where the original post ends! I'd like to say one more thing. I already addressed this in the Addendum, but I'd like to state it here too: this is ONLY a theory for what Jekyll's plan is. That was my intent, anyway.

By that I mean, I think this plan would FAIL in reality, in several key ways. Mainly, I think Lanyon and the others are going to intervene before Hyde would actually get arrested. Together, they may work to find a solution to both bring Jekyll back (if he's already deep in the unconscious) AND to keep their secret safe. I have hope they'd figure it out!

I'm also planning to post a more general thematic analysis of the whole comic, soonish. With a particular focus on the character arcs of Jekyll and Hyde. Look out for that! I'm still working it out, but it should be done sometime next week.

After that's done, I'm going to share my theories for how I ACTUALLY think the comic might end. Cause I sure as heck don't think it will end as I described above.

That's all! Thanks for reading!! :DDDDD

#tgs #the glass scientists #fan theories #tgs theories #tgs meta #webcomics

48 notes · View notes

smoooothoperator · 4 months ago

Text

What Was I Made For?

19: Melodrama

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers (👀)

Warnings: Melanie.

a/n: Welcome back!!!! Don't get used to have chapter too frecuently because next week I'll start the opera season... Anyway!! Hope you like the chapter

if you want to play a game and ask things about Dafne

Masterlist

previous part | next part

If you want to be tagged don't forget to message me!

Every way of feedback is very welcomed

Melanie Cooper.

It all started when I installed Raya more than a year ago.

I wasn't doing it consciously, it happened one night I was at a party. I was bored and making a profile was faster than I thought , and soon I started swiping to the left and right, getting matches and ignoring them immediately.

I didn't notice that everyone I gave a like looked like Dafne. Brunette and blue eyes. I was in denial, not wanting to accept that I actually still had feelings for her. That night, I was too drunk, watching how Dafne came with her boyfriend to the FIA gala of 2023.

Melanie wasn't the first, but she was definitely the last.

I talked for the first time with Melanie in the summer of 2024. I needed someone to spend my summer break with, to keep my mind busy and forget about cars and Dafne. I needed to keep myself busy between the legs of someone else.

Looking back, I realize how immature it was, trying to fill the whole with someone else, anyone else.

When I first met Melanie in the summer of 2024, she seemed like the perfect distraction. We started spending more time together, especially when I learned she also lived in Monaco. But what began as a casual fling quickly turned into something that consumed my daily life.

I bought her things whenever she asked me, ignoring that voice in the back of my head warning me about what I was doing.

I saw her taking pictures of me. Posting pictures with me. Recording videos near me. And I always ignored it.

I only wanted her to forget Dafne.

Until everything exploded in my face.

The moment Melanie and Dafne met, I couldn't handle things anymore. In that moment, I opened my eyes and saw how reality was going.

I started noticing the extravagant gifts Melanie would request. My family’s disapproval grew louder with every visit, their cold stares and whispered remarks impossible to ignore. And then there were the little things, like how Melanie, somehow, began wearing the same perfume Dafne used or how she tried to mimic Dafne’s laugh. It was unsettling, to say the least.

I started to see the truth. I accepted my feelings.

But then, that day happened. And everything went down.

Instead of ending things with her, I brought her to a race. Instead of asking her to stay in the hotel while I went to dinner with my family and Dafne's, I let her come. Instead of going to my room where Melanie was, I went to Dafne's.

I had heard rumors about Melanie seeing other men, but I pushed them aside, pretending not to care. I was too caught up in my own denial to face the truth. But the morning I saw her with a random guy in the bed of my room, it made my blood boil.

But what made me hate her was when I saw her placing my phone on the table and watching how she used it. She found out my passcode. She looked at my phone. She wrote a text pretending to be me.

That moment, when I saw the text messages, I knew that I made a big mistake that night of 2023.

f1_gossip

liked by 19.261

f1_gossip Oh, oh! Do you guys remember her? She was Charles Leclerc’s “girlfriend” during summer break and the first races after the break. The first time she was seen with him was on Monza.

Melanie Cooper, 25 years old, is a British influencer of TikTok. She recently posted an announcement revealing that Charles and her broke up during the winter break because she discovered that he cheated on her with Dafne. But the most shocking thing she confessed is that she is pregnant, and with his baby!

But… Is it true? The last time she was seen with Charles was exactly the first time she was in the paddock, in Monza. And after that, she disappeared, and Charles stopped following her on Instagram. Charles wasn't seen with another girl.

And on the other side, Dafne dated the actor Sebastian Stan for some months before she ended things in December.

What do you guys think about this? We read you!

view all comments

fewawifan Charles on his playboy era was the worst thing that could ever happen… Who knows how many girls he knocked up

dafneismymom I hope Dafne is okay, she doesn't deserve this…

melanieclothes they are made for each other. Two cheaters. dafneismymom melanieclothes no one asked your opinion. You follow a gold digger melanieclothes and you don't?

sharlperceval I went to the Monza GP and Melanie only wanted his money… I saw her grabbing his phone countless times, probably buying herself things.

Everything around me started to disappear.

It felt like my life was collapsing, piece by piece, as if every hard-won victory was crumbling before my eyes.

The moment Melanie walked in, with her hand holding her belly, I felt the first card falling. Then, when she said that the baby was mine, I felt another two. But the moment Dafne looked at me, with panic and confusion in her eyes, I felt the whole castle falling.

The world went silent. All I could see was Dafne, limp in my arms, and Melanie’s menacing figure over us.

“What the hell do you want?” I frowned, holding Dafne close to my chest, kneeling on the ground and looking up at Melanie.

“What do I want?” she laughed. “You know what's funny, Charles? Your so-called girlfriend humiliated me, she talked shit about me!”

“So what, does that give you any right to come here and lie? To hurt my family?” I frowned. “How do you even know where we were?”

She laughed, her hand never left her belly. Our friends and family were quiet. Dafne's sisters were kneeling next to her, holding her hand and trying to wake her up. But Melanie… That smile and gaze was giving me shivers.

“You are not as subtle as you think you are” she laughed. “Your location was on my phone, and let's not talk about all those times you talked shit about her family and how you used to spend summer in this place…”

“Don't” I groaned. “Stop fucking lying. She's lying!”

I looked around, swallowing thickly. How my mother looks at me, how her parents look at me. Disappointed.

“Are you even pregnant?” Erica frowned.

“What? Of course I am!” she exclaimed with a high pitched voice, holding her belly tight.

I looked at her, swallowing thickly. I slept with her, maybe too many times that I would like to admit. But it was always with protection.

“Is it even mine?” I frowned. “You were the one who cheated on me, Melanie”

“Me?!” she gasped, looking at my friends and then at me again. “How dare you?! I was loyal to you! I loved you!”

“Don't make me laugh” I frowned. “You were the one that used me, that spent my money. You stole my phone to write a text for me! An important text!”

“I did you a favor!” she exclaimed, ironically.

“You ruined me!” I screamed, not noticing Dafne waking up, moving in my arms. “Because of you I was demanded. Because of you, my own team lost respect towards me. Because of you, I lost myself”

She clenched her fists, looking at me.

“You were never meant to be anything more,” I said, my voice breaking. “I used you to escape my own misery, to forget Dafne. But you turned that into something twisted, something that only drained me.”

“Charles…”

I flinched when I heard Dafne's weak voice, and the only thing I could do was hold her tighter, not wanting her to get hurt, not wanting Melanie to touch her.

“I want a parental test” I frowned, looking at Melanie. “Because I highly doubt that the baby you are carrying is mine. Probably is from one of the many guys you slept with while you were stealing my money”

“It's yours” Melanie groaned. “It's yours! It's your baby!”

“Leave. Now” I whispered, my voice trembling as I cradled Dafne closer. I finally met Melanie’s gaze, cold and unyielding. “You’re not welcome here, not near my family.”

I saw Violet and Kika walking towards her, making sure she got away and back to her car. Meanwhile, the rest of our friends stayed there in silence.

“Are you okay?” I whisper, tucking away the hair from Dafne's face. “I'm sorry. This… This is not fair”

“Is it true?” Her voice was barely audible, a fragile thread of hope or despair.

“It’s not mine,” I whispered, desperate to convince her, to hold onto the life we had planned. “Please, Dafne, you have to believe me.

She didn't say anything, only looked around and tried to get up with her sister's help, completely ignoring me and avoiding my eyes.

“Thank you all for coming” she said, smiling weakly to our friends and family. “I… I think I need to rest. Eh… Yeah. It was so lovely having you here”

I saw her walk away, in silence, with her hand on her belly. I tried to follow her, to hold her hand and see if she was alright, but my feet felt like they were glued to the ground.

“I…” I swallowed thickly, looking at my mother and brothers, at Pierre.

“I know you, Charles” Pierre sighed. “I…”

“Please, you have to believe me” I whisper, begging. “That kid is not mine. Melanie, she…”

“It's fake” Violet said, walking towards Lando and hugging him. “I'm pretty sure it's a fake belly. She was holding it all the time, like not wanting it to fall or whatever. And when she got in her car it moved higher”

“You believe me?” I mumble, feeling a lump on my throat.

“I do” Kika nodded. “I saw that too. I started suspecting it when she never pulled her hand away from her belly. And if she was pregnant, she should be at least a month more than Dafne. And it doesn't look that big”

“Then you should pressure her with the parental test” my brother Lorenzo sighed. “I don't know what happened between you, but she still wants more from you. Pressure her, and then set a lawsuit”

I swallowed thickly and nodded, looking at the house. Dafne's room has the light on, she's probably there, getting ready for bed.

“I think it's our cue to leave” her mother smiled weakly, walking towards me and hugging me. “I'm so happy for you two, really. And I'm sure you'll find a way to fix this”

“Yeah…” I sighed. “Thank you”

I watched how my family and hers walked away, probably going to stay the night in Dafne's parents house.

“This is not how I wanted to end the day” I sighed, smiling weakly at Lando and Pierre.

“It's not your fault, mate” Lando sighed

“It partially is” I sighed. “I was the one who brought her into my life. If I knew she was this crazy, I would definitely have ignored her…”

“But you can't change the past” Violet sighed. “Just… Fix it. You have a chance of fixing and ending things with her”

“Yeah…” I sighed, looking at the window of Dafne's bedroom. “Oh, eh… Your rooms are ready. There are two free rooms in the first floor and another in the second one”

“Thank you” they all smiled.

When Dafne and I planned this day, we wanted our friends to stay the night, to spend the next day together before the season started. But now with this new drama, I highly doubt that tomorrow will be a happy day.

“I’ll clean up,” I muttered, staring blankly at the scattered remnants of what was supposed to be a perfect day.

But Lando’s hand on my shoulder pulled me back.

“Hey, no” Oscar smiled. “We will. You can go talk with Dafne and make sure she's alright”

“What? No” I frowned.

“It wasn't a suggestion” Lando laughed. “Go with her, okay?”

I smiled weakly and nodded, hugging them and just giving them indications for where they can put the things in the kitchen.

Her door was locked. And she never did that.

“Dafne… Can we talk, please?” I sighed, resting my forehead against the wood of the door.

“No”

“Come on… Let me just explain? She left, I promise”

I heard her groan and get out of her bed, walking towards the door and unlocking it. She had her mascara running down her cheeks and her eyes red, and it made my heart clench.

“Oh, love…” I exhaled slowly, stepping closer to her and wrapping my arms around her.

“Is it yours?” she mumbled. “You…”

“It’s not” I whisper. “I swear, Dafne. I… I always used protection with her. The last time I slept with her was before the Monza race. That was months ago. There’s no way the baby is mine.”

She took a deep breath and hugged me back, making me sigh relieved and hug her tighter.

“I need to know” she whispered. “Why? Why were you with her?”

I sighed and walked inside her room, closing the door with my foot. I sat in bed with her on my lap and I could only look up at her while my hands rubbed her belly with soft circles.

“Is it true what she said? That you dated girls that looked like me?” she whispered.

“Ah… Yeah” I sighed, resting my head on her chest and closing my eyes. “Yeah… It was a way of… I don't know. A way of making my stupid self think that you were with me. That we never hated each other”

She didn't say anything, just placed a hand on my neck and rubbed it softly. I could feel our son kicking on my hand, making me rub her belly more.

“Melanie was just a summer fling,” I whispered. “She was a distraction, someone I thought I could keep at a distance. But I underestimated her. I let her into my life, and she took advantage of that, making things even more complicated between us.”

“Why?” she whispered, playing with my hair.

I took a deep breath and looked up at her, watching how she was biting her lip.

“The next morning after we slept together…” I sighed, rubbing her belly. “I found out that she stole my phone. She was with another guy in my room and spent my money on room service. Then, when I went back home, I found her there. She reserved a private jet, pretending to be me, and went to my home”

“What?” she gasped softly.

“She… She probably talked with the receptionist and asked for a key, saying that she wanted to give me a surprise” I said, rolling my eyes. “The thing is… When you asked Fred that you wanted me to make a public apology, she texted Fred that I wouldn't do it. She, again, pretended to be me, Dafne”

I saw her taking a deep breath and somehow her features relaxed. I saw her face relaxing, understanding everything.

“If I knew that you wanted me to apologize in public I would have done that” I whispered, holding her hands and kissing them. “God, I would have gone to your apartment and begged you to forgive me, kneeling in front of you if it was necessary while every media recorded me. But… It was too late. When I went back to Maranello after that, everyone stopped talking to me. And you did everything to not find me there. So I just accepted it, I accepted my fate”

“Oh, Charles…” she mumbled, cupping my cheek with her hand. “I… I never knew…”

“And I never wanted you to know” I whispered, watching how little tears started to roll down her cheek. “Please don't cry”

“No, it's…” she sighed, whipping away her tears. “It's too much. The hormones, this new drama, our day ruined…”

“Hey, it's not ruined” I smiled weakly. “Our friends are here. We can still plan something to end it better, okay?”

She sighed and nodded, pressing a kiss on my forehead that made my heart melt. She hugged me, resting her head on my shoulder and sighing.

“First I think I need you to give me a foot massage” she whispered, making me chuckle while I rubbed her back. “The shoes I used today really hurt me…”

“Everything for you, my love” I whisper, kissing her cheek.

She chuckled softly, sitting on the bed and placing her feet on my lap. I looked at her with a soft smile while I rubbed her feet, just how we saw in a video not long ago.

I would do anything to keep her happy. Anything.

“Charlie” she whispered, shaking her feet and making me get out of my trance. “Let's make a statement”

“What?” I frowned.

“Y-yeah… About what happened today” she smiled weakly, moving slowly to hold my hands. “I… When I came to my room I looked at my phone. And I think the reason why Melanie did this was to have her minute of fame. She was in every magazine, every gossip page… Media is even talking shit about you. I think you have to talk about this. We have to talk about this, tell the truth”

I sighed and nodded, wrapping my arm around her. I rubbed her arm softly, kissing the top of her head.

“I feel that the start of the season will be full of questions about this…” I sighed. “About you and the pregnancy, about us together, and now about this whole new drama with Melanie”

“But we can do it, Charles” she whispered, cupping my cheek and making me look at her. “We can do this together. I… God, we wasted so much time acting like idiots, hating each other”

“Yeah” I sighed.

“But now we have things to take care of” she smiled, rubbing my cheekbone with her thumb and pressing a soft kiss on my lips. “We have a son now”

“I will need you by my side, Dafne…” I sighed. “I feel it's too much, actually”

Dafne sighed and nodded, gently pulling me to lay on the bed next to her. She moved to get comfortable, resting her head on my shoulder while I wrapped my arm around her. She rubbed my chest with her hand, making me take a deep breath while I tried to relax.

“Step by step” she whispered. “What do you want to do first?”

I hesitated, feeling the weight of everything that had happened.

“That God damned parental test” I groaned, frustrated by the situation we were forced into.

“Okay, then…” she sighed. “We can call a lawyer. Because if she refuses to take the test, we can pressure her. Then, you can demand her for defamation and… Other things if you want to”

“I don't have proof for that” I sighed. “Yes, she used my money to buy herself things, and pretended to be me… But I don't have proof for that”

“We'll find a way” she sighed, cuddling me.

“Yeah” I sighed.

“And then after the test…” she sighed, looking at me.

“I want to find a house” I said. “For us. I want a place I can call home, where Dorian can grow up. Somewhere we can make our family grow”

“You want more kids?” she whispered, and somehow her hand on my chest stopped moving. “You…”

“Dafne” I smile weakly, holding her hand. “I… God, you are the one. You were always the one. And I want to marry you someday. I… I wish our kid had my surname, just like you. I wish you were my wife”

She sat on the bed and it made my heart stop for a moment. She's not smiling, not even looking at me.

“Step by step” she mumbled. “Just… Step by step”

“Y-yeah”

I looked at her getting up from the bed slowly, and even though I find that cute because the struggles of the pregnancy are already showing, I couldn't help but feel like an idiot.

Telling her that I want her to have my surname, that I want her to be my wife. How could I say something like that?

“Let's go downstairs” she sighed. “I want to cuddle that little puppy”

“Sure” I smiled, getting up and holding her hand. “Just… Forget about the last thing I said, please”

She offered me a weak smile, her eyes reflecting a mix of sadness and resolve. She stepped closer, her breath shaky as she kissed me softly, a gesture that felt like a fragile truce.

“Step by step” she repeated. “Talk to me about that once Dorian is in our arms, okay?”

“W-what? Are you… Are you sure?” I frowned, confused.

“I am” she nodded, pecking my lips. “It's our fate. Since we were little, you and I were destined to be together”

Watching her walk away, my heart swelled with a mix of love and gratitude. No matter the obstacles, I knew I’d do anything for her. She’s always been the one.

taglist

@racinggirl @elisysd @alltoomaples @ssprayberrythings @rach3164 @yvonne-dump @deliciousfestsalad @janeh22 @hc-dutch @ninifee1802 @kakorrhaphiphobia @ssararuffoni @itsjustkhaos @scaramou @tapedeck-hearts @sltwins @glitterquadricorn @ladystardust05 @theseerbetweenus @vizzzashley @auawdo @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @leptitlu @green-thots @caterinemirandax_ @mid5nights @harrysdimple05 @nofingjustaninchident

115 notes · View notes

choicesficwriterscreations · 28 days ago

Text

December Creator of the Month: Coffeeheartaddict2

Please welcome this month’s Creator of the Month: @coffeeheartaddict2

Each month, CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers or artists. The writer or artist is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page. Past COTMs can be found here.

Tumblr Blog Name: Coffeeheartaddict2

How do you want to be known on Tumblr? Tash

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog

Masterlist

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

2020, pandemic. I saw the ad somewhere, so I downloaded it. The first book was The Royal Romance.

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

2021, so three nearly 4 years. Fell into it when I created my Tumblr as an outlet to post my work. Writing was literally a way of getting some thoughts out, and it grew from there.

3- How did you pick your blog name?

I am as much of a coffee snob as our favourite pixelated doctor. When I created my blog, I only wrote for Open Heart and put the word addict in. I have the 2there as I had some issues with my original blog, and I had to create a second, so I added the 2 so people knew it was me.

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!

So this was my first work. I thought about how the Leland storyline could have played out and went with it. It was initially a one-shot.

5- Do you write fanfiction, create fan art, or are you one of those really gifted people who do both?

I write. I can draw but not what one would classify as well enough.

6- How long have you been creating for Choices and for any other fandoms?

I started writing in 2020 and just kept going. I did a few one-shots, and then I felt a little empty at the end of book 2. Well, I decided to rewrite it, and that set the beginning of what I dubbed Tashland.

7- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to create for?

Well, Open Heart, obviously. I enjoyed The Royal Romance and Crimes of Passion.

8- Share your first Choices fanfic or fan art that you posted with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were creating it today?

I cannot remember the first one I posted with CFWC, nor can I remember exactly when, but I think it was part one of When Egos Collide.

I do like it. I spent a few chapters setting up Leland and his over all plan, putting in the seeds of Tobias coming across to Edenbrook and where Ethan was at. Do I want to go back and tidy up a few bits? Most definitely, but overall, I would not change too much.

Link to part one.

9- What is your favorite piece of fiction or art that you created?

I will cheat and do a series (or 2).

The first series is When Egos Collide, aka what ended up being a rewrite of book 3. I had started it before book three dropped, so I was going to use some plot points if it worked in my narrative. Well, what bones of a decent story were given fit in well. The whole premise was doing bad for good vs. doing good for bad and what or who would win out and the fallout. I was proud of it, and it is what brought me into the fandom more.

Link to series.

The second was Everybody Hurts Sometimes. Not only a good song by REM. A fellow fandom member received an ask about what she would think happened if Ethan did not talk to Louise and she died. I then brewed a plot in my head and this person was fine with me commandeering the ask, and that series was born.

The series can be found here.

10- Do you have a fic/art that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to do well but found it could use a little more love?

I eventually rewrote my 14-20 of book two rewrite. I was fairly happy with the basic plot, but as time went on, I felt that it lacked depth, especially since I had written so much in and around the timeline that was not in the original series. I am always happy if anyone reads or comments at the end of the day.

11- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Angst with a happy end with a side of smut, lol. Angst sometimes seems more real and relatable, and I enjoy writing it. I like to give happy endings, especially as some of my angst can be pretty intense, and we all need a little smut in our lives.

12- Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

My MC likes to cope with bad things by throwing herself into work, which I do, or I distract myself.

13- What element of writing/art do you struggle with most?

I know some of you will disagree with me, but fluff. I find it the hardest to write.

14- Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

I feel like I have been neglecting writing in general at the moment. The joys of young children.

15- If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to see your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you show them first?

Yes, I would. I would probably start them with my book 2 ch14-20 rewrite, as that sets up my world. Then, I would let them decide on what to do next. I do have book 1 works, but I think they will work better if read after my book 2 ch 14-20 rewrite.

16- Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing or art? Are there any artists that influence you?

I have a diverse reading taste (says she, who is currently reading Harry Potter with my daughter). I would not say that what I have read outside the fandom influences me (unless I did an Outlander AU). I would not say influence, but certainly most encouraging have been @jerzwriter, @cariantha, @jamespotterthefirst and @liaromancewriter, among others.

17- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series?

Everybody Hurts Sometimes and When Egos Collide would make good series.

18- Do you write original fiction or create non-fandom art?

No, I do not.

19- What other hobbies do you have?

Baking. I like baking cakes and biscuits. I tried my hand at fudge, and it worked despite putting the chocolate in too early. I do not have a lot of free time.

#cfwc creator of the month #playchoices #pixelberry #open heart #creator of the month #choices fic writers creations #coffeeheartaddict2

38 notes · View notes

lovecla · 4 months ago

Text

OCEAN EYES | connor bedard

chapter one.

➴ warnings: swearing, underage drinking.

➴ word count: 3.2k

➴ author's note: omg this is my first time actually publishing something i wrote. the things i do for you, connor bedard. hope u like it <3

“SOMETHING tells me I shouldn’t be surprised to see you like this, but I still am.” You hear his voice before you can actually see him, which makes you wipe your tears fast and sigh loudly.

A girl can’t cry to her favorite Marvel movie anymore.

“You should try minding your own business. It’s super fun,” you say, putting the bowl of popcorn down and pausing the movie.

“Why would I even do that? Minding yours is way funnier.” Alex says, putting his luggage on the floor and sitting right beside you. You fight the urge to hug him tightly just because you don’t want to admit you’ve missed him a lot.

“What are you even doing here?”

He scoffs. “Last time I checked, this was my house.”

“You know what I mean,” you roll your eyes. “What are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to be back in Illinois until tomorrow evening.”

“Well, after yesterday’s W, we thought it’d be great to be back earlier,” he grinned and you sighed, again. You knew what that meant.

Winning equals partying in Hockey world and usually, the party happened at Alex’s house since he had a big ass house, no wife, no parents, no kids. Just an eighteen year old sister living with him before moving to her own apartment.

Having a somewhat famous brother wasn’t exactly in your to-do list but here we are. After Alex joined the Blackhawks, everything went upside down in the best way possible. For him, you mean.

For you and my parents it meant going to every game, every party, every important dinner. And even though you’re not complaining at all, it was so much in such little time. So you’re still getting used to it.

But Alex won’t make it any easier. Every time they win and come back home, it’s a party. Your parents stopped showing up after the first one— they opened the door of the guest room (where they were staying) to find Donato fucking some random girl. It wasn’t exactly his best moment, you’ll give him that.

“What time does it start?” You ask, starting your movie again.

“Eight p.m. sharp. Bedsy will be here so you can be weird together or whatever y’all teenagers do.”

“You’re just five years older than me, dumbass. Just because you bought your own mansion at twenty-two, doesn’t mean that you’re that old.”

“Whatever. The point here is: y’all weird.”

As much as you’d like to prove him otherwise, he isn’t one hundred percent wrong.

You and Connor met two years ago, when he and Madi were still living in Sweden. Despite what everyone thinks, some NHL agents already had their eyes on Connor, so they’d casually invite him (and he always brought Madi with him) to games, including the games your brother would play.

You befriended his sister quickly because, hello, she’s just the best human being in the entire world (hopes Chloe doesn’t hear you) and suddenly, going to his games wasn’t that bad anymore.

One day, Madi couldn’t go to one of the games, so when you went to chat with her, you just found Connor, chilling by himself.

“Hum, hi?” You remember saying, very embarrassed and awkward. You weren’t afraid of him, you had spoken to him before and he is friendly, despite what everyone else seems to think. He’s just. Quiet.

“Hi, Ellie,” he answered, taking his eyes off the rink for once. His face was like always: expressionless. “Madi couldn’t make it today. I’m the only Bedard you’ll have today, I’m afraid.”

You laughed, because, what, had he just made a joke? Crazy. Then you sat on the seat beside him and made yourself comfortable, trying to find Alex in the sea of big, aggressive men.

That was kind of the beginning of your friendship. Just like that, you talked his ears off during the entire game, complaining more than speaking, really. You’re not much of a calm person when it comes to game watching. And whenever you thought he wasn’t listening, you’d stop talking, and then he’d look at you and say things like:

“So? Where’s the rest of the story? I’m interested in why you think The Incredible Hulk is the worst Marvel movie.”

And then, when he joined your brother’s team, you were more than happy. He and Mads got to be closer and you could hang out with her whenever school and her job let you.

“I don’t think we are weird. At all. We’re just not excited about partying every single day like you are.” You replied, trying to distract yourself from the fact that Natasha Romanoff had just died on screen.

It should have been that fucking Clint asshole. Fuck him.

“Every time I throw a party here, you both just stay on the couch talking and talking, not a single drink in y’all’s hands. I get that you can’t really drink yet but at your age I was getting shit faced whenever I had the chance.”

“That isn’t the brag you think it is but fine,” He flipped you off and you smiled. “Can I invite Chloe?”

“I mean, I invited fifty guys to our house, you might as well invite your annoying girlfriend as well.” He used that one tone he always used whenever he’s annoyed and it made you roll your eyes, again.

“She isn’t annoying.”

Even though it isn’t a lie, it felt like one. Ever since you started hanging out with the players of Alex’s team more, she started to act weird. And she’s kind of obsessed with Bedard. But then again, half of the hockey community is so.

No biggie.

“Whatever, loser,” he slapped your forehead and you hit him with the pillow you were resting your head on. “You stink.”

“You fucking stink. Go change into something that isn’t a suit, weirdo.”

“I will, but not because you asked me to. I was going to do that anyway.”

You smirked. “Of course you were.”

—

EVEN though you didn’t plan on staying up the entire night like your brother and some of his teammates— the majority of the guys your brother invited were still in his twenties like him, so they don't have big responsibilities like kids or wives or husbands—, you still dressed up a bit.

Thankfully this isn’t anything fancy, so you just put on a black, silky, maxi skirt, a corset-like tube top and low heels. Since you got lazy and ended up listening to music instead of getting ready, you had to put your hair in a slick bun because it was already eight and you still weren’t ready. So, slick bun it is.

Your phone rings and you pick it up, reading Chloe’s texts:

You sent a quick nice and put on some perfume. It’s not long until you hear a quick knock on my door, followed by a blonde mess that you like to call your best friend.

“Hi, oh my God, you look stunning.” You say as soon as you both make eye contact, because Chloe’s just so freaking beautiful.

“I know,” she replies, sitting on your bed. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Not really in the mood for partying though.”

“Are you kidding?” She slaps her knees with her hands, a smile on her face. “You have a house— no. Not a house. A mansion full of hot hockey players and you’re not in the mood for partying? What do you mean!”

You shrug. “You know I’ve never really cared about hockey. I don’t see the appeal, if I’m being honest.”

It’s true. Even before Alex made it to the NHL, you always thought hockey was just… alright. You don’t get why people get so excited to see some guys throwing a puck and skating. The fights are always fun to watch, though.

“You’re crazy,” she says, and you think she’s probably right. “Is Bedard coming?”

“I don’t really know. Maybe?” You replied, turning around and facing her. “Maybe yes. He’s on the team after all and he did score the last goal.”

“So. I need you to do something for me.” Chloe replied after a minute or two, and just by seeing the crazy look she has on her face, you knew that this isn't a really good thing.

You sigh. “What do you need?”

“I need you to introduce me to him.”

“Him?” You ask, confusion taking over your entire face.

She rolls her eyes. “Connor! I need you to introduce me to Connor!”

You don’t know why but her sentence makes your heart beat faster. You don’t like this feeling or her words either. But you just swallow your discomfort down and try to keep your expression neutral.

“Bedard? Why do you want that? You’ve never even acknowledged him in the past two years.”

“Well, I was waiting for him to make the move, but he’s so oblivious sometimes,” she says, sighing. “Honestly, I thought he liked you. You know, with how close you both are.”

You almost choke on your own spit. “Connor? Liking me?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but you can’t really blame me though. You’re all over each other and you even sit on his lap during movie nights.”

True. But also, not true.

“Well, I do that with all of my friends. I mean, I would do that if I had more friends. It’s not really my fault I just have you, Madi, Alex and Connor. I can sit on your lap if you want to—”

“Ew, not happening,” she fake-gags, making you laugh. “Anyway. Recently he said in an interview that he is single and not interested in anyone in particular. Soo, that’s my chance!”

You don’t know if you’re more weirded out with the fact that she watched one of his interviews or with the fact that she wants to be with him. And what makes you feel even weirder is the fact that you actually can picture them as a couple.

Chloe is your perfect WAG: blonde, rich, tall, good on cameras and gorgeous, even for an eighteen year old, fresh out of high school. She’s always at random, fancy parties because she says college isn’t for her, so she needs to find a rich, hot husband for herself.

You’ve never really said anything about that because you don’t think relying on a man to provide for you is the right decision. You want to get into college and continue to study so you can make your own name, and now that Alex’s known, you will need to work twice as hard to make sure you’re not getting anything just because you’re his sister.

But thinking about Chloe trying to make Connor her husband?

Yeah. It made you feel terrible.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that, Chloe…”

“Wait, what?” Something like anger flashed through her eyes. “You don’t think I have a chance with him? Why?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just—” God, why were you feeling like this? It’s just Connor. A guy you met two years ago. “Connor’s really closed. We’ve never talked about relationships. I don’t know how to approach him.”

The smile is back on her face. “That’s fine. You just have to tell him hi, this is my best friend, chloe. And I’ll do the rest.”

You had a bad feeling about this. And it probably showed in your face because Chloe was frowning, again.

“Ellie,” she said, slowly. “Do you like him? Is that why you don’t want to introduce us?”

You were the one frowning now. Liking Connor? Seeing him as anything more than a friend? No, what? Crazy. Chloe was nuts. You just didn’t want him to get hurt. That was all.

“What?! No. No, of course not!” You said, feeling hot. “Connor is just a friend. Like you.”

“So?” Chloe said, quietly. “You will introduce us, right?”

“Yes,” you replied, without hesitating this time. “Please, be nice to him.”

“Oh, I am going to be nice,” she smirks. “I don’t know about the things I’m planning on doing with him though.”

She laughed out loud and even though you didn’t find anything funny, you laughed too. Even if your heart felt like it weighed more than the whole moon.

—

FINDING Bedard wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

Even though your brother’s house was big, it felt crowded with people. Alex said it’d only be fifty guys or so, but he forgot that those fifty guys were bulky and big, so it would feel like his house had at least eighty people there.

The music wasn’t extremely loud, it was just a background noise, so everyone could hear each other just fine. And boy, were those hockey men loud.

Every time one of them recognised you, they’d just shout and raise their arms, with either beer or liquor in his hands. It took you and Chloe at least fifteen minutes to get to the kitchen, so Chloe could get a drink for her and you a diet soda. You hated the taste of alcohol.

“God, at this point we’re never finding him,” Chloe mumbled, sipping on her beer and making a disgusted face. “You need to tell your brother to buy some proper beer.”

You chuckled. Despite everything Alex said, he’d probably freak out if you asked for alcohol. “I could always call Bedard. If he’s here, he’ll show up.”

“Yeah, do that. I’ll go to the bathroom real quick, and I’ll be back.”

You nodded, grabbing your phone and searching for Connor’s number. You finger just a centimeter from the screen, your heart beating fast in your chest, and you wanted to punch yourself when you caught yourself thinking I hope he doesn’t answer.

“I’m the world’s worst best friend,” you mumbled to yourself, disappointed with your own stupid brain.

“That skirt looks good on you,” you heard Connor’s voice and you looked down fast, checking to see if you had actually called him. When you found your phone still on the contact list, you furrowed your brows. “Hi, El.”

You turned around just to see Connor standing there, with his awkward smile and blue eyes. His hair was a bit longer than you remembered but it looked even better than before. He looked good.

You smiled, all that tension from before gone in seconds. “Hi, Con. I was literally just about to call you.” You raised your phone, showing it to him.

“Yeah?” He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close. Hugging him was something that felt so precious because he never really did it with many people, and to think you’re one of the lucky ones? Yeah. Precious.

“Yeah,” you replied, hands around his middle, your height difference making the whole thing funnier. You stepped back, looking him in the eye. “I— I need to… hum. Introduce you to someone.”

He raised his brows, just slightly. His face going all-Bedard like again. “It isn’t a boyfriend, is it?”

“No?”

“That sounded more like a question than an affirmation. Are you seeing anyone?”

“What? No,” you laughed, amused with his answers. “No, I’m not. You and Madi would be the first to know if I were, I promise.”

“Then, who is it? Last time you said you had to introduce me to someone, I had to chat for forty minutes with an old lady who thought the Avengers were real.”

“Don’t call Susy old!” You threw your arms up, still laughing. “And that day was funny as fuck. Also, I see myself in her, so if you don’t like her, you probably don’t like me as well.”

“Bullshit. You know I like you.” He said, blue eyes looking everywhere else but your face.

Your heart did that backflip it always does whenever Bedard says something like that. You smiled.

“I like you too,” you whispered. “But I need you to meet someone.”

Just before Connor could ask who that someone was, Chloe re-entered the kitchen, slowing her steps when she noticed that Bedard was there.

“Great, you’re here,” you said, holding one of Chloe’s hands and pushing her closer. “This is who I wanted you to meet. Chloe, this is Connor Bedard. Con, this is my friend Chloe.”

Chloe reached out her hand to greet him. “Hi! I’m a huge fan. Congrats on your win!”

Connor greeted her back, but his gaze was fixed on your face. It was extremely awkward and uncomfortable, all the tension from earlier coming back. Something that you couldn’t really identify flashed through Connor’s eyes and it made you want to scream.

“Hi. Thank you.”

Connor’s dry words didn’t seem to surprise Chloe. “Do you want to drink something? I make the best Black and Tan in the entire world.” She smiles.

Connor looked at you and you bit your lip, your mouth opening to speak before your brain could stop it. “It’s true. She does.”

“Oh, are you drinking now?” He sounded… angry?

“No, of course not,” you scoffed, wishing you had kept your mouth shut. “But people like it a lot.”

“I can’t drink. We have to hit the gym tomorrow morning.”

Blue eyes looked at you again and honestly? You were ready to call it a night and go back to your room, because what the hell. Connor wasn’t usually this complicated.

“Oh,” Chloe sounded disappointed but then. “Then maybe we can grab some drinks together tomorrow evening?”

Damn, she doesn’t give up.

“Sure. But El doesn’t drink.” He replied, leaning against the kitchen counter, his biceps practically ripping the tight shirt. You reminded yourself to stop staring.

And then you proceeded to remember what he’d just said.

“Um. I’m not coming,” you were sure your lipstick was already gone with how much you were biting your lip so you switched to picking on the skin around your nails. “I… I have… well, I’m—”

“She has a date.”

You and Connor both looked at Chloe. Your eyes doubled in size and you had to fight the urge to punch her. What the hell was going on with you that night, you wondered.

“Do you?” Connor asked, and he was definitely angry now. His face wasn’t showing anything but his eyes told the entire story. They had a storm going on inside of them and he had the same look as he did when that one guy made his teeth bleed during one game.

“That sounded more like a question than an affirmation. Are you seeing anyone?”

“What? No,” you laughed, amused with his answers. “No, I’m not. You and Madi would be the first to know if I were, I promise.”

Fuck.

“Well. It’s nothing serious. Just— a guy?” It definitely sounded like a question. Lying wasn’t exactly your best trait.

“Yeah, a guy. So, she can’t come. Just you and me,” Chloe continued, grabbing another beer and sipping on it. “Can you pick me up at seven? I’ll text you my address.”

Truthfully, you didn’t know how Chloe had the balls to act like this, especially with someone who hasn’t shown interest in her at all. Maybe this is what being confident means? You thought to yourself, trying to right her wrongs once more.

Connor just nodded and left the kitchen without saying a word.

“That went well, huh?” Chloe said, looking happy with the situation.

You just hummed, not wanting to lie more than you already did that night.

God.

#hockey #connor bedard fic #connor bedard x you #connor bedard x oc #connor bedard x reader #connor bedard

59 notes · View notes

lucky-clover-gazette · 6 months ago

Text

kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 7

edit: there is much better analysis in this follow-up post, although it does build on the stuff i wrote here

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

There were very few problems, the public killings having been good for the soldiers’ morale.

so where are the people like me in this world who would like pass out witnessing that. just too desensitized to care?

The Veretian herald was named Hendric and he had very strong arms, because banners were heavy.

Damen and Laurent were to ride alongside one another. Neither one of them had the better horse.

THEIR HORSES!! BACK TOGETHER DESPITE ALL ODDS!! because they’re definitely the same ones that fell in love during prince's gambit shut up

Damen was taller, but nothing could be done about that, Hendric had said with an impenetrable expression. Hendric, Damen was learning, had something in common with Laurent, in that it was never a simple matter to tell when he was joking.

give laurent a comedically large hammer and he’ll find a way

‘I hope the injured boy was returned to you safely.’ ‘Thank you, he returned with Paschal,’ said Laurent. For a salve? Damen opened his mouth to say, and didn’t.

throwback <3 but kings can’t have inside jokes :(

In the next moment, the horns rang out, triumphant and lonely at the same time, the pure sound absorbed by the sky and the wide open landscape around them.

“triumphant and lonely” nice detail

He remembered exactly how it had looked, and that was why he didn’t recognise it at first: the forest of broken spears was gone, and there were no gouged ruts in the earth, no men face down in the churned mud. Marlas was now a tumble of grass and wildflowers in the blowy, sweet summer weather, shifting back and forth in the gentle air. Here and there an insect droned, a drowsy sound. A dragonfly dipped and darted.

i like this :) we don’t get a lot of love for nature in this series, so i’ll take what i get. especially nice when nature represents healing and the passage of time.

Lining the hall were two dozen slaves.

oh this is going to be a headache. but it’s a headache worth having, because i’ve approached these annotations so far with integrity and fairness, and i refuse to treat this subject any differently. i don’t want to just ignore the things that are more difficult or less fun to unpack in order to get to the fun shipping stuff, i want to analyze them to the best of my ability and feel as comfortable as i possibly can moving forward.

so let’s set up some context:

1) damen has come a long way from his stance on slavery in book 1. he is actively refusing to partake in this expected custom, and finds the institution disturbing and triggering. he has developed a new appreciation for sex with truly consenting (not trained) partners, aka laurent, and can’t really go back. still, his reasons for refraining here are almost entirely based on his evolving sense of morality, not really relating to his relationship with laurent at all. for more on that moral evolution, see my analysis in chapter 4. further proof of this Really Mattering to damen is the fact that by not taking slaves, he is losing points with his own people. another great hint of his development as a king, making his own authoritative decisions rather than upholding tradition.

2) laurent does not like slavery. he does not think it is morally correct, and has made many jabs at damen throughout the series for disagreeing. he is disturbed by idea of people who have been groomed into relinquishing their own free will. if put in the situation of damen in book 1, laurent would not have been nearly as compliant or allowing—honestly, he probably would have tried to kill his master, and failing that, kill himself.

HOWEVER. vere does not do slavery. slavery had never been a relevant issue to laurent, at least until he was gifted a slave of his own and was made to deal with them in negotiations with patras. slavery is a thing other countries do, to laurent, and his current objective is make nice with a country that keeps slaves. therefore, he knows that his only real option is to keep the appearance of partaking in the custom, even if damen can get away with refusal. and i think we can safely assume that in laurent’s vere, there will be no slavery, even if he’s taking up the appearance of a slave owner now. additionally, i think we can also assume that there will be reform of the country’s pet system, which is an issue much more relevant to laurent’s lived experience.

if the stuff with laurent and slaves here was simply performative and un-indulgent, i wouldn’t need to be writing anything more here. but it is, as it is, one of the few things in the series that makes me feel very conflicted (see also: the garden scene in book 1). because while it’s true that laurent doesn’t actually use isander as a sex slave, and does have this kind of passive disdain for slavery, he does use isander in another way. he uses isander, a non-consenting brainwashed slave, as a way to make damen, who has never actually been a slave, jealous. this is an abuse of power that directly conflicts with laurent’s stated and assumed values regarding free will and individual personhood. we’ve seen things like this before, in arles, but laurent had known that damen was a prince and not a slave the entire time. but isander is a victim of this system—even if isander himself doesn’t know that, laurent damn well does. and laurent historically is someone who advocates for victims. so the fact that his morals here are being set aside in favor of a petty gesture against damen, is… disappointing. everything i said in chapter 3/4 about laurent’s mean girl era still stands: he knows he’s being shitty, and he’s doing it because he doesn’t want to be vulnerable and insecure. better to be a villain than a victim, etc. but laurent being a villain to damen, who laurent knows is perfectly capable of defending himself, is distinctly different from laurent parading out isander the slave just to hurt damen’s feelings.

it’s wrong for the obvious moral reasons, which laurent perfectly understands in the abstract. but it’s not a hill he’s going to die on here, and that’s not just because of the political advantage. this is 100% about personal shit with damen too. and sorry laurent, but slavery does not stop being wrong when it’s useful in creating drama with your ex. in fact, indulging in it for that reason specifically trivializes all of the legitimate problems with the practice. it makes laurent a hypocrite and it crosses a line, in terms of his mean girl schtick. i just want to make that clear—that there is very much a difference between laurent just being kinda cunty to damen in general, and specifically using a slave as tool in that cuntiness.

laurent is, and always has been, a morally complex and often hypocritical character. he has done things that have made me feel uncomfortable to read, like the way he treats damen in the garden scene. and that’s okay, and it doesn’t make him a bad character, or even a bad person. and to be fair, he isn’t doing any practical harm here—if he hadn’t chosen isander to kinda just vaguely flirt with in public and then leave alone in private, someone else probably would have done far worse. and that is an easy cop-out, and it’s not wrong. but still.

the problem isn’t with laurent's actions here, necessarily, but the principle. which is usually what laurent himself cares about the most, as he often values the ends above the means. politics aside, i think that laurent would readily admit post-mean girl era that the ends of making damen jealous did not, and should not, justify the means of using another human being who does not possess free will. maybe he even does that in the text, eventually, and i’ve forgotten.

(also, let’s not forget that isander may have been trained to not have his own feelings, but definitely still has them, because he’s a human being. and it probably makes him feel pretty bad to be chosen and then ignored by laurent. not that it should, because the entire thing is super fucked up, but it’s what he’s been groomed to believe. like, i did just want to throw that in somewhere, even though it’s obviously predicated on brainwashing and a lack of free will. it’s still what he’s feeling, and his feelings matter. just as much as damen’s or laurent’s.)

basically: laurent is failing to be honorable in his usage of isander, even if he’s not using isander as a sex slave as intended. his abstract values about the wrongness of slavery take a back seat to the political and interpersonal advantage of not only passively partaking in the custom, but actively using it to make damen jealous. even if laurent needs to pretend to take a slave to be politically accepted, he does not need to do All That. and honestly, with laurent’s ability to convince and command a crowd, i think we all know deep down that if he didn’t at least want to do this at least a little bit, just to piss damen off, he would find a way out of it. and that is a reality of laurent’s characterization here that i have to deal with, similar to his actions in the garden scene.

and then there’s the other thing that laurent's "performance" with isander has in common with the garden scene:

it’s hot. it’s wrong, and hypocritical, and could have been done in a way that would better suit my personal tastes, but yes, it’s hot. and on top of that, it’s also VERY funny. laurent’s performance, damen’s reactions, and isander’s obliviousness are all very, very funny. and i do want to be able to enjoy them for the petty gestures they are, and joke about them, without constantly having to throw in a “but also this is bad.” so doing this initial disclaimer feels like a happy medium to me, where i’m not ignoring the complexity of the situation entirely, but i’m also conceding that it’s not necessarily meant to be taken seriously, and it’s ultimately written for the reader to enjoy. like, don’t get me wrong, most of the slavery stuff in this series has NOT been written for the reader’s enjoyment—the values here are very clear, especially in damen’s arc—but there are still some indulgent moments. and it is fiction. and these characters aren’t perfect, nor did they create the culture of the kingdoms that they’re about to rule. and they do ultimately change the things that they, and we the reader, know are wrong.

but just like with the garden scene, i can’t quite get myself to write “so it’s totally fine to just have fun with the whole slavery thing” as a conclusion. and honestly, i feel pretty okay about that hesitancy. when i make jokes about this subject in this specific context (laurent and isander), i don’t want it to be forgotten that the subject itself (slavery) is still entirely serious. so instead, i’ll say:

this is fun because manipulative petty lamen mind games are fun. this is hot because manipulative petty lamen mind games are hot. this is somewhat intended as a backhanded insult and display of moral superiority—laurent showing damen how awful he and his culture appear to non-slave owners—but that moral superiority ultimately falls short due to laurent’s hypocritical use of a slave to make damen jealous. all of those separate pieces of analysis are true to the overall experience of reading and interpreting these scenes. it’s a mixed bag, we know it’s a mixed bag, laurent knows it’s a mixed bag, and damen knows it’s a mixed bag. the only relevant person who doesn’t know it’s a mixed bag is isander, because he’s a slave and isn’t allowed to think for himself, and that fucking sucks.

Isander was olive-skinned and lithe as a fawn, with dark hair and eyes: Akielon colouring. He shared that with Nikandros; with Damen.

yeah i’m sure that’s just a coincidence

Male, either in deference to Veretian customs, or to suit Laurent’s assumed preferences.

akielon slave owners, trying to assess laurent’s preferences:

(can you tell my heart still isn’t fully in the humor here…)

Nikandros would never offer royalty anything less than a slave’s First Night.

god, the first night thing is fucked up. in general, i love the lack of like… uh… traditionally conservative (read: christian) attitudes about sex in capri, so the few similarities especially give me the ick. i haven’t read or annotated the erasmus short story yet, but i know it’s going to piss me off too. basically, the closer we get to the handmaid’s tale, the more i want to read complicit characters dying horrifically on the page. nikandros and the other akielons are skirting by for now with the plausible deniability they have re: fully understanding how slaves are trained, but they’re on thin fucking ice.

also, lighter side question, what’s the recommended reading order for the short stories?

sweet grace of a palace slave

gag

‘I like that one,’ said Laurent.

>:(

‘Slaves are trained in the arts of pleasure, but they do not lie with another until their First Night,’ Kolnas said. ‘Here we use the same strict, classical training that is used in the royal palace. Skills are learned through instruction, and practised with indirect methods. The slave remains wholly untouched, kept pure for the first use of the Exalted.’

imagine if real-life cultural customs were built around grooming a certain group of people to be sexually submissive and modest as a thinly-veiled way to control their sexuality and ensure that they are attached to dominant societal figures from a young age without the education or free will to consider themselves actual human beings, so they can unquestioningly spend their entire lives as sex machines and domestic servants defined entirely by their responsibility to the family, and then they die and their headstone identifies them by their status as a possession of their dominant partner. wouldn’t that be fucked up

‘I never did learn how to command a bed slave,’ said Laurent. ‘Teach me.’

guys i wish i could find this hot or funny but now i’m just mad about disturbing stuff in real life that i can’t analyze out of existence. i’m taking a break and eating a chocolate strawberry greek yogurt popsicle and then i’ll try to refocus on the funny toxic gay people

‘They cannot speak Veretian, Your Highness,’ Kolnas explained. ‘In the Akielon language, using the plain form of address is appropriate. To command any act of service is to honour a slave. The more personal the service, the greater the honour.’ ‘Really? Come here,’ said Laurent.

laurent go sit in the corner.

Laurent extended the tip of his boot. ‘Kiss it,’ he said. His eyes were on Damen.

god this is so good. i hate it so much.

to be fair, there is no way to do this that would be more effective than laurent using a slave. because, y’know, damen was his “slave.” it wouldn’t hit the same with some random non-slave guy. laurent wants to fuck with damen’s head, and part of that is making him miss something he most certainly should not be missing. laurent is also fucking with my head, because this gesture is so conflictingly wrong and compelling, a word which in this case means "something i’m embarrassed/ashamed to say that i find hot."

‘Good boy,’ said Laurent, reaching down to pet Isander’s dark curls, while Isander’s eyes closed and he flushed over.

(easy joke to make, but we’re all probably thinking it) damen:

(also, this being the only “good boy” in the entire series is just diabolical. but i get why it is, because i think it might not be the only one—and if it isn’t the only one, that means the regent says it at some point, and that’s exactly why it’s never used in a lamen sex scene.)

Kolnas preened, pleased that his selection was appreciated. Damen could see that the fort’s household around them was also pleased, having gone to great lengths to make Laurent feel welcome. They had considered with intense thoughtfulness Veretian culture and Veretian practices.

i sense some slight snarkiness here—not even from damen, but from the narrative itself. there’s palpable irony in the “great lengths” and “thoughtfulness” of akielions considering veretian culture while presenting laurent with slaves, all while veretian culture doesn’t have slavery.

It was pointless. There were two dozen slaves here, while the number of times Laurent had had sex in his life could probably be counted on one hand. Laurent was just going to be dragging twenty-four young men back to his rooms to sit around doing nothing. They wouldn’t even be able to unlace Veretian clothing.

according to damen:

this is stupid.

laurent is, in all ways but physical, a loser virgin.

he’s going to set out board games for those sex slaves. he’s going to throw them a pizza party. he’s going to answer emails the entire time.

they don’t even know how to unlace laurent’s clothing like i do.

this is stupid.

‘Can he also serve me in the baths?’ said Laurent.

CUNT.

‘And at the feast for the bannermen this evening when they give their pledge, if that pleases you, Your Highness,’ said Kolnas. ‘It pleases me,’ said Laurent.

damen is about to throw up on the floor

Cloth wound around his waist and over his shoulder, the sort of ceremonial Akielon garb that you could unreel from a person by taking hold of one end and pulling while they rotated.

looney toons-ass imagery

He could feel their discomfort, their need to debase themselves; this sort of proximity to royalty permitted only the extreme submissiveness of slaves.

thank you damen for being the only normal person here. you've come a long way.

“discomfort, their need to debase themselves” is something book 1 damen would have found adorable and charming. he definitely wouldn’t have worded it like this, back then.

“this sort of proximity to royalty permitted only the extreme submissiveness of slaves” building on the damen vs. kingship theme, he thinks he can’t have real love or intimacy or vulnerability if he’s a king. he can’t truly be paired with an equal, because he needs to be exalted.

He had sent away the slaves.

damen you’re the only one i’m not at mad at in this chapter. actually i liked the funny banner guy, we’re chill too. and isander is just trying his best

Laurent, he knew, was rooming in the adjoining suite, separated from him by a single wall. Damen was in the King’s chambers, which any lord who built a fort installed, in the hope the King would stop there. But even the former lord of Marlas’s optimism had not stretched to the idea that the heads of two royal families would visit simultaneously. To preserve their arrangements of scrupulous equality, Laurent was in the Queen’s chambers, beyond that wall.

i’m getting so much whiplash from this chapter like yeah this is funny and cute but also is the slavery stuff just normal to people like i’m aware the series started from a specific subculture and kink and body of literary work, so i guess i’m the weird one and the outsider here for being so distracted??

Isander was probably tending him, gamely doing his best with the laces. He would have to unhook the lacings on the back of the neck of Laurent’s riding leathers before drawing them through their eyelets. Or Laurent had taken Isander into the baths, to be undressed by him there. Isander would be flushed with pride at being chosen for the task. Attend me. Damen felt his hands curl into fists.

i don’t think i need to point out in a note, every single time, that damen being jealous of isander is funny and his possessiveness of laurent is hot. but i will still highlight the passages where it happens.

He turned his mind to political matters.

good call buddy, you and i are going to get through this chapter together

Men and women reclined on couches

(said apprehensively, given the overall themes of this chapter) ...women?

Makedon leaned, selecting a slice of peeled orange. Pallas, the handsome officer-champion, reclined with the easy posture that spoke to his aristocratic blood. Straton had hitched his skirts up and drawn his legs onto the couch, crossing them at the ankles. Everyone whom rank or office entitled to be here was assembled, and with every northerner of standing gathered to give their pledge, the hall was packed full. The Veretians present were mostly vertical, standing awkwardly in small groups, one or two perched gingerly on the edge of a seat.

There was no trumpet flourish or herald’s announcement, as there would have been in Vere.

okay i didn’t realize there was a trumpet flourish in vere. that is very funny in retrospect. a trumpet is not the instrument i’d choose to announce laurent’s arrival. in arles especially, i personally think that a halloween sfx cd would have been much more appropriate

Laurent didn’t rise. He wasn’t required to. He just watched from his reclining couch, as the hall prostrated itself. He had cultivated an elegant sprawl, with his arm draped over his couch back, and his leg drawn up, revealing the arc of an exquisitely clad thigh. His fingers dangled. Silk rucked around his knee.

laurent lean #14. kings leaning.

Isander was prostrated, an inch from Laurent’s casually draped fingertips, his lithe body bare. He wore a brief garment like a Vaskian man’s cloth. His collar fit him like a second skin. Laurent sat relaxed, every line of his body arranged tastefully against the couch. Damen made himself stroll forward through the silence. Their twin couches were next to each other. ‘Brother,’ Laurent said, pleasantly.

no comment

The eyes of everyone in the hall were on him. He felt their gazes, their underfed curiosity. He heard the murmurs—it really is him, Damianos, alive and here—accompanied by the brazen looks, looking at him, looking at the gold cuff on his wrist, looking at Laurent in his Veretian clothes like an exotic ornament—so that is the Veretian Prince. And beneath that the speculation that was never spoken aloud.

at least one akielon politics rpf truther is losing their mind rn. we have gaylor, this world has gaymianos

Laurent was scrupulously correct in the face of it, his behaviour immaculate, even his use of the slave was an act of unimpeachable etiquette. In Akielos it pleased the host for a guest to make use of his hospitality. And it pleased the Akielon people for their royal family to take slaves, a sign of virility and power, and a cause of great pride.

narrows my eyes

Barieus stepped forward. ‘I want assurances that Vere does not hold undue influence over Akielos.’ Undue influence. ‘Speak plainly.’ ‘They say the Prince of Vere is your lover.’

found the gaymianos truther

‘Who we take to our bed is not your concern.’

well i mean if you’re using the royal “we” to represent the kingdom, then yeah… it kinda is?

‘Shall I tell them what really happened between us? They want to know,’ Laurent said. Laurent began to unlace the cuff of his sleeve, drawing the ties through the eyelets, then opening the fabric to expose the fine underside of his wrist—and then the unmistakable gold of the slave cuff.

Laurent leaned his wrist elegantly on the curved arm of the couch, the open sleeve reminiscent of a delicate open shirt collar, its laces trailing. ‘Do I have the question clear?’ said Laurent, speaking in Akielon. ‘You are asking if I lay with the man who killed my own brother?’ Laurent wore the slave cuff with utter disregard. He had no owner, the aristocratic arrogance of his posture said that. Laurent had always possessed an essential quality of the untouchable. He cultivated a faultless grace on the reclining couch, his chiselled profile and marble-chip eyes those of a statue. The idea that he would let anyone fuck him was impossible.

and damen is so into it. love love love the contrast with the description of slaves in this chapter. damen doesn’t want them, he wants laurent. he sees laurent as a complete and compelling person. there is honor in laurent’s performative submission—wearing the cuff—because damen respects laurent’s personhood. but he’s no longer able to see the submission of slaves as honorable, because he knows they’re fucking slaves who have been robbed of their personhood entirely.

Barieus said, ‘A man would have to be ice-cold to sleep with his brother’s killer.’ ‘Then you have your answer,’ said Laurent. There was a silence, in which Laurent’s gaze held that of Barieus. ‘Yes, Exalted.’ Barieus bowed his head, and unconsciously used the Akielon Exalted, rather than the Veretian titles Highness or Majesty.

a vine boom echoed through the court

‘Well, Barieus?’ said Damen. Barieus knelt two steps before the dais. ‘I will pledge. I see that the Prince of Vere stands with you. It’s right that we swear to you here, on the site of your greatest victory.’

“he is simply too cunty for us to deny his authority.”

Slaves brought the food. Squires served Damen, since he had made his preferences clear. It was an awkward arrangement that displeased everyone in the hall.

YES DAMEN!

Isander was utterly in love with his master. He strove continuously to do well, selecting each delicacy for Laurent to sample, bringing him only the best, in small, shallow dishes, refreshing the water bowl for Laurent to clean his fingers. He did it all with perfect form, discreetly attentive, and never drawing attention to himself. His eyelashes drew attention to themselves. Damen made himself look elsewhere.

but that’s not real love, and damen knows it. laurent knows it too. and damen did it way better in nesson-elroy

Laurent said, ‘Play The Fall of Inachtos,’ and a murmur of approval passed over the hall. Kolnas, the Keeper of Slaves, congratulated Laurent on his knowledge of Akielon epics. ‘It’s one of your favourites, isn’t it?’ said Laurent, transferring his gaze to Damen.

diabolical. need this energy for the lamen divorce playlists (they each have their own)

He had always liked the depiction of Akielons cutting down their enemies, as Nisos rode out to kill Inachtos, and take his walled city. He didn’t want to hear it now.

yayyy character development

It was Loyse and not Guion that Jord was approaching. She gave him a cursory look. ‘Yes?’ There was an awkward pause. ‘I just wanted to say . . . that I’m sorry for your loss. Your son was a good fighter.’ ‘Thank you, soldier.’ She gave him the token attention a lady might give to any servant, and turned back to her conversation with her husband.

loyse hiiiiiii loyse (said with appropriate sadness for her current state of grief)

Jord gazed at him for a long moment, then indicated Laurent with his chin. ‘I’m glad you two are friends,’ said Jord.

jord always knows exactly when to show up and make ill-timed commentary on damen and laurent's relationship

‘I thought when he found out about you, he’d swear revenge,’ said Jord. ‘He knew all along,’ said Damen. ‘It’s good that you could trust each other,’ said Jord. And then: ‘I think before you came, he didn’t really trust anyone.’ Damen said, ‘He didn’t.’

also isn’t it like SUPER awkward for jord to be around guion and loyse right now

Isander was bringing Laurent a sprig of grapes in a small dish. Laurent said something approving, and gestured for Isander to join him on the reclining couch. Isander glowed, shyly besotted. As Damen watched, Isander picked a single grape from the sprig, and lifted it to Laurent’s lips. Laurent leaned in. He twined a finger around a curl of Isander’s hair and allowed himself to be fed, grape by grape, a prince with a new favourite.

damen is about to start scratching the walls like a cat confronted with a closed door

He lifted the wine blindly. The cup was empty. Straton wasn’t the only Akielon departing with a slave; men and women throughout the hall were availing themselves. The wine, and the slaves enacting the battle were breaking down inhibitions. Akielon voices grew loud, emboldened by wine.

between the heavy drinking and sex practices, the akielon court actually sounds like my living hell. and we haven’t even gotten to the naked sports chapter yet

Laurent leaned in further to murmur something intimately into Isander’s ear, and then, as the recitation reached its climax, the clash of swords like the hammering in his chest, Damen saw Laurent tap Isander’s shoulder, and rise. I’d wager you never thought a prince could be jealous of a slave. At this moment I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat. Torveld’s words. He said, ‘Excuse me.’

The entire court around him rose as he pushed up from his couch-throne.

“couch-throne”

Trying to follow Laurent out, he got tangled in ceremony, the hall a stifling press of bodies and noise, and, as a blond head disappeared towards the doorway, he was stopped by party after party blocking his path.

okay i’m so curious what he’s meaning to do when he catches up to laurent. yell at him? yell at isander? throw up?

He ought to have brought a slave of his own, then the crowd would have melted away, understanding: the King wished privacy.

i am begging the protagonists of this book to stop using human people as objects. again maybe that’s just a me problem, this isn’t my usual genre and the akielon slavery system clearly doesn’t align with my kink sensibilities, but COME ON

The corridor was empty when he strode out into it. His heart was pounding. He turned the first corner into a section of the passage, half expecting to catch Laurent’s retreating figure. Instead, he saw a stark, empty arch with all its Veretian lattice stripped away. Under the arch was Isander, standing with his fawn eyes, looking confused and abandoned. His confusion was such that for a moment he just stared at Damen with wide eyes before he seemed to understand what was happening, and folded to the floor, forehead to the stone. Damen said, ‘Where is he?’ Isander was well trained, even if nothing was happening as he had expected tonight; and even if, rather mortifyingly, he was being asked to report this fact to his King. ‘His Highness of Vere has gone for a ride.’

well at least if “going on a ride” is laurent code for “feeling morally and emotionally troubled,” that’s… less disappointing, i guess.

also, i do realize that this is the place where laurent’s brother was killed, currently taken over by the nation that orchestrated and benefitted from his death. so there’s probably a twisted vindication in learning exactly how fucked up their culture is (asking about the first night, etc), and getting whatever kind of enjoyment out of the whole situation he can (pissing off damen). but there still had to be a crash, and as soon as laurent was excused from his duties he dipped to deal with it alone.

‘At the stables a handler might know his destination. This slave can inquire.’

i caaaaaan’t stand the way they’re denied use of personal pronouns

Closer; the approach was difficult because it was sharp with memory. Here was the place where their left flank had fallen. Here was the place where he had ordered men to attack the lines that would not fall, the starburst banner that did not falter. Here was the place where he had killed the last of the Prince’s Guard, and come face to face with Auguste. He dismounted from his horse, looping its reins over the cracked stone column of an overgrown pillar. The landscape was old, and the pieces of stone were old; and he remembered this place, remembered the torn soil and the desperation of the fight. Clearing a last jut of stone, he saw the curve of a shoulder in the moonlight, the white of a loose shirt, his outer garments stripped, all wrists and exposed throat. Laurent was sitting on a stone outcrop. His jacket was discarded uncharacteristically. He was sitting on it.

this is a beautifully set scene.

A stone slid under his heel. Laurent turned. For a moment, Laurent looked at him wide-eyed, young, and then the look in his eyes changed, as though the universe had fulfilled an ineluctable promise. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘perfect.’

a moment of surprise and vulnerability, and then practiced cool again. onto Some More Bullshit, i guess

this isn’t the chapter to really tackle this, but i will eventually write a long essay about how laurent goes through his own mini character growth arc, completely off the page, during the lamen divorce era. it’s just that damen has custody of the reader, so we don’t get to see it—only hints, like this moment here. laurent must have had a lot on his mind, too, ever since their last heated conversation. i have some ideas about what that “a lot” might be, but again, i don’t think i’ve gotten quite enough from laurent yet to really start forming a conclusion.

Damen said, ‘I thought you might want—’ ‘Want?’ ‘A friend,’ said Damen. He used Jord’s word. His chest felt tight. ‘If you’d prefer me to leave, I will.’ ‘Why cavil?’ said Laurent. ‘Let’s fuck.’

ON YOUR BROTHER’S FIGURATIVE GRAVE WITH HIS MURDERER????

‘That isn’t what I meant.’ ‘It might not be what you meant, but it’s what you want.’ Laurent said, ‘You want to fuck me.’ Anyone else would have been drunk. Laurent was dangerously sober.

yeah, no, he’s definitely being going through Some Shit on his own. lots of self-loathing, especially due to the fact that he can’t hate damen as much as he knows he should. yearning, more self-loathing because of that yearning. companionship withdrawals, a return to isolation. a revived sense of grief for his brother, and nicaise, and damen (not damianos) and even his relationship with his uncle, who he hadn’t thought would be capable of trying to kill him. hating himself and blaming himself and regretting things he’s done to push people away. just an all-around bad time, but a necessary time of reflection that he needs to experience on his own. damen can’t just swoop in and fix laurent, laurent has to decide that he’s worth saving first. he’s not there yet, clearly, assuming that damen only wants him as a sexual object. whiiiiich was probably why he went so hard on the eroticism with isander easlier, it was an easy victory to get damen hot and bothered. a game he could win, among the many other games he knows he’s losing—especially the ones against himself.

i’ll put together something more coherent before the divorce era ends. tbh, i kinda think this scene should have been a separate chapter, because there is some pretty massive whiplash here. although maybe not, maybe the buildup of emotional and sexual tension was the point. yeah, it was. the slavery stuff just made it more frustrating to read. never mind.

‘You’ve been thinking about it since Ravenel. Since Nesson.’ He knew this mood. He should have expected it. He made himself say the words. ‘I came because I thought you might want to talk.’ ‘Not particularly.’

it almost sounds like laurent played himself, for the millionth time, by getting himself worked up with isander when he just really wanted damen

He said, ‘About your brother.’ ‘I never fucked my brother,’ said Laurent, with a strange edge to the words. ‘That is incest.’ They were standing in the place where his brother had died. With a disorientating sensation Damen realised they weren’t going to talk about that. They were going to talk about this.

"yes, honey..."

‘You’re right,’ said Damen. ‘I’ve been thinking about it since Ravenel. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.’ ‘Why?’ said Laurent. ‘Was I that good?’ ‘No. You fucked like a virgin,’ said Damen,

deserved

‘half the time. The rest of the time—’ ‘Like I knew what to do?’ ‘Like you knew what you were used to.’ He saw the words impact. Laurent swayed, like he’d been dealt a blow. Laurent said, ‘I’m not certain I can take your particular brand of honesty just at the moment.’

oh well this is particularly horrifying with [redacted] context. also i think the quote “i’m not certain i can take your particular brand of honesty just at the moment” says A LOT about how laurent has always viewed damen, for better or for worse. laurent can count on damen to tell him what he needs to hear, not what he wants to hear. so it makes sense that he’s been avoiding damen lately, because laurent is going through his own crisis of personal reflection

Damen said, ‘I don’t prefer sophistication in bed, if you were wondering.’ ‘That’s right,’ said Laurent. ‘You like it simple.’ All the breath left his throat. He stood, stripped, unready for it. Will you use even that against me? he wanted to say, and didn’t. Laurent’s breathing was shallow too, holding his ground.

is “that” just laurent making fun of the way damen is earnest in bed? seems like an overreaction from damen if that's the case, so it’s probably something else i’m missing. maybe laurent is accusing damen of keeping the secret of his identity, even when they fucked, to make things simpler between them? that would support my previous theory that laurent is convinced that damen wouldn’t want him how he really is, as damen really is, with all the complications between them. or it’s a dig about auguste somehow, and i just can’t figure out how it connects.

‘He died well,’ Damen made himself say. ‘He fought better than any man I’ve known. It was a fair fight, and he felt no pain. The end was quick.’

like i said—what laurent needs to hear, not what he wants to hear. even if damen thinks that it’s going to make laurent hate him more, he still has the integrity to say it.

‘You sent your men out to look for me too?’ said Laurent, his mouth twisting. ‘No,’ said Damen, and pushed Laurent hard out of sight, into the shelter of one of the huge, crumbling blocks of stone. In the next second, the troop was on them, at least two hundred men, so that the air was thick with the passage of horses. Damen pressed Laurent firmly into the rock, and held him in place with his body. The riders didn’t slow, even on this uncertain ground in the dark, and any man in their path would be trampled, tumbled, kicked from hoof to hoof. Discovery was a real threat, the rock cool under his palms, the dark shuddering with the pounding of hooves and heavy lethal horseflesh. He could feel Laurent against him, the barely contained tension, adrenalin mixed with his dislike of the proximity, the urge in him to prise himself out and away, stifled by necessity.

throwback <3 i think this is very intentionally placed in this conversation, as a reminder that they are the same people they were in prince’s gambit

‘I know you’re not cold,’ said Damen. ‘You weren’t cold when you ordered me tied to the post. You weren’t cold when you pushed me down on your bed.’

more true things laurent does not want to hear right now! also i like the use of warmth, as the opposite of cold, to signify both vengeful rage and romantic/sexual passion. two sides of the same coin

‘A fair fight?’ said Laurent, turning back to him. ‘No fight’s ever fair. Someone’s always stronger.’

rewinding to their previous argument. aren’t they both tired? i’m tired.

#this might be the most mixed bag chapter for me so far #curious what other people think #might just be personal taste and an unfamiliarity with reading stories about this kink #or even like historical fiction/fantasy in general that might have systems like this one #if i'm reading about stuff like this it's probably something like the handmaid's tale #or a crime/thriller novel #so #shrugs #sam reads capri #capri #captive prince #laurent of vere #damen of akielos #lamen

54 notes · View notes