#One of the things i wanted was maybe go to vegas and see my family

[heart-bones]

every two weeks I tell myself "no unnecessary spending" - I even made a point not to order any delivery while at work or for dinner when I came home, even if I was too tired to cook. and YET it's like....it didn't even really make a difference somehow?

might be upgrading my apartment in a month since my current place is going up, and I figured why not get the bigger place that is only a 45$ difference? and now I'm stressing about that 🙃

I don't want a "side hustle" or to get better at art to make money off it for supplemental income because I'm ALREADY EXHAUSTED like just being alive and going to work as is but like. What the fuck.

[no-144444]

the grid: when the media says something insane...

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req: Hi, I'd like to request a blurb about the drivers reacting to reader being talked bad about from an interviewer. Scenario-Interviewer: "Do you think the reason you lost today's race is because 'y/n' was here and had something to do with it?"

featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Franco Colapinto, Logan Sargeant, Daniel Riccardo, Liam Lawson, Charles LeClerc, Carlos Sainz, Arthur LeClerc, Ollie Bearman, Max Verstappen, Paul Aron, Jack Doohan.

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Oscar Piastri: makes the interviewer feel dumb asf

“And how do you feel about the DNF today, knowing that it's breaking your record of competing in every lap so far this year? Is there any specific reason as to why you might’ve made that mistake? I did see some new faces in the garage today,” Danica asked.

Oscar frowned. “What are you trying to say?”

“I was just wondering if you count your partner, Y/n, as a bad luck charm now. This is her first Grand Prix, isn’t it?” 

He actually laughed in her face. “Do you seriously believe in shit like that?” he chuckled. “And no, it’s not her first, nor will it be her last.”

Danica stood, embarrassed. 

“Do you have any other questions?” he asked, polite as ever. She didn’t respond. “Thanks for the joke anyway, that was actually quite funny,” Oscar added as he moved onto the next interview, a bright smile on his face despite the poor race result.

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Lando Norris: insults the interviewer

“And how do you feel about the DNF today, knowing that it's cementing your loss in the Driver’s Championship? Is there any specific reason as to why you might’ve made that mistake? I did see some new faces in the garage today,” Danica asked.

He stared at her for a moment, trying to compose himself. “If you’re talking about my girlfriend, I’d suggest you just come out and say it, Danica.”

“Alright then, do you see her as a bad luck charm now? Considering this is her first race, if I’m right,” she asked outright. Jenson rolled his eyes beside her as Martin just chuckled. 

“Not at all, she’s here to support me and I’d much rather have her here for a day like today than a win. It’s called a support system Danica, I’m aware of the fact that you’re not a fan of those, but some of us actually benefit from caring about other people. And another thing, all of my bad races, you’ve been there. Maybe you’re the bad luck charm,” his voice cut through the tension in the cold Las Vegas air like a knife, and Jenson and Martin just started laughing as Danica stood there dumbfounded. “Maybe I should ask Sky to not bring you around as much.” 

He handed the microphone back and continued on with his day, then posted this later: 

landonorris

liked by pierregasly, lewishamilton, and 479,933 others

landonorris: idc if ur bad luck ur too sexy to let go of 🥴

comments are disabled.

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Lewis Hamilton: protective much?

“It’s Y/n’s first race in years, and yet you DNF for the first time in months, do you want to give us some insight to that?” Danica asked. 

Lewis’s eyebrow raised and an annoyed smile made its way onto his face. “What are you saying right now?”

“Well, it’s just strange that her first race in years, 2 to be exact, is the one you don’t finish.”

“Are you trying to insinuate that she’s bad luck or something?” 

“Is that what you believe her to be?” 

“Fuck no,” he scoffed. “She’s my wife, is what she is. I’m grateful that she’s here. I love to share my love of motorsport with my wife, and I don’t feel sorry for the media that she's been preoccupied with being pregnant and busy to be here for the last 2 years. I love having her come and support me, and I’m happy that I didn’t finish the fucking race, I get more time with my family now. I cannot believe you enjoy making shitty headlines like this. Danica, maybe just stick to fucking driving.”

With that, he walked away, and later made this post:

lewishamilton

liked by pierregasly, francocolapinto, and 2,393,932 others

lewishamilton: my good luck charms xx

comments are disabled.

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George Russell: flabbergasted that someone would have the audacity 

“Sorry about the result today George, do you feel like external factors made it more difficult for today’s race?” Danica questioned. 

“Y’know, it’s been pretty tough all year with the car but it really felt like we pulled back to the top today, and it was just a shame that Lando went wide and pushed me into the gravel,” he shrugged.

“And you don’t see your girlfriend as a bad luck charm? It is her first race, right?”

He death-stared her for a moment. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Well, we just wanted to know how you react to knowing that it’s her first race and it’s also the race you DNFed in.”

“I don’t have a reaction,” he scoffed. “Your headlines are going to be written anyway, it doesn’t matter what I say. I don’t see her as bad luck or whatever rubbish you’re going to paint this as, and I don’t really care what you think about it. Anyway, it’s not like you have the monopoly on perfect races, Danica.” 

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Kimi Antonelli: awkward and insulted 

“Sorry about the result today Kimi, do you feel like distractions made it more difficult for today’s race?” Danica questioned. 

“Umm…” he trailed off, looking at George confused. George shook his head, silently telling him not to answer. “I don’t know what you mean?” 

“Well there were external factors, obviously, but also your girlfriend was in the paddock for the first time this weekend, correct?”

He nodded. 

“So do you see her as some sort of bad luck charm, or something?”

He pulled a face of disgust for a split second. “No, not at all. She went to every single one of my F2 races so I don’t see how she could have been bad luck here when she was not bad luck there,” he shrugged. 

“So she’s not bad luck?” 

He chuckled awkwardly. “N-no. Like I say, she was at every one of my F2 races. I think she is lucky, if anything.” 

He walked away confused as George reassured him that they were just fishing for headlines and to ‘not give them the time of day’. He was slightly worried that you would think you were a bad luck charm and quickly found you and showed you that you weren’t.

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Alex Albon: shocked. 

“Sorry about the race today Alex, do you feel like distractions made it more difficult for today’s race?” Danica questioned. 

“Umm,” he kind of chuckled. “I don’t think so? I mean it was so wet so I’m not shocked that I went off.”

“But in the garage, do you think you would’ve been more focused if your girlfriend hadn’t been there?”

He just stared at her with a slightly shocked smile as she held the microphone to his face. “Did you actually just ask that?”

She didn’t answer, just nodding. 

“Well, why don’t we think back to every other race she’s been at this year. Monaco, Canada, Silverstone, Austria, and Baku, which were all my best races this season, apart from maybe Canada.”

“Yes, but today she was-”

“In the garage, the same as she always is. Wow, you’ll really do anything for a headline.”

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Franco Colapinto: Sassy asf 

“Sorry about the crash today, glad to see you’re ok Franco. Do you think this weekend has been a bit more difficult because of distractions or something new being in a paddock? We saw that it was your girlfriend's first GP this weekend, could she have anything to do with it?” Danica asked. 

He did a double take, staring at her. “¿Qué? Is that really what you think?” 

She shrugged. “It’s only a question.”

“It’s a stupid question,” he scoffed. “¿Por qué traería mala suerte? She has been at every race so far and I haven’t seen anyone complaining.” (Why would she be bad luck?)

“So she’s not bad luck?”

He laughed. “Do I have to repeat things 3 times for you to understand?”

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Logan Sargeant: angry

“Sorry about the result today Logan, do you feel like distractions made it more difficult for today’s race?” Danica questioned. 

He stared at her, then pushed the mic away from him. “I’m not answering stupid fucking questions about my girlfriend.”

And he walked off. And posted this later…

logansargeant

liked by pierregasly, oscarpiastri, jensonbutton, and 345,938 others

logansargeant: let's not bring my girlfriend into this, yeah?

comments are disabled.

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Daniel Riccardo: plays it off. 

“Sorry about the end of the race today Danny, do you feel like distractions made it more difficult for today’s race?” Danica questioned. 

He laughed, thinking she was joking. His eyes widened when he realised she wasn’t. “You think I can’t race because my girlfriend is in the back of the garage?”

“It is her first GP, correct?” 

He chuckled. “No, no it’s not. She’s always there, and anyways, I’m in the car, it’s not like I have all the time in the world to stare at her ass or something,” he smiled. “I know she’s beautiful but I don’t exactly see her when I’m going to the straight at 200 kilometres an hour.”

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Liam Lawson: sassy man apocalypse 

“Sorry about the end of the race today Liam, do you feel like distractions made it more difficult for today’s race?” Danica questioned. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, confused about the question. 

“Your girlfriend was here for the first time, could she be a bad luck charm for the team?”

“I don’t think she is but I do know that your interviews make me feel pretty fucking unlucky,” he scoffed before walking off. 

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Charles LeClerc: laughs in their face

“Charles, what do you think about the people saying that Y/n is bad luck in the garage?”

He started laughing and didn’t stop for about a minute. He was as bad as Lando, to the point that Carlos had to actually walk him off the fan stage. He came back on, teary-eyed and smiling. “I think it’s quite funny.”

“Evidently,” Carlos scoffed. 

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Carlos Sainz: …

“Carlos, what do you think about the people saying that Y/n is bad luck in the garage?” Danica asked.

“What people are saying that?” he asked. 

“The media,” she answered. 

“Well they always have bullshit to say. I’m just surprised they had the balls to go after my wife,” he scoffed. “They’ll be hearing from my lawyers.”

“That sounds extreme-”

“It’s defamation of character and she’s my wife. Nothing is extreme.” 

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Arthur LeClerc: Won’t answer

“Sorry about the race today Arthur, do you think there are other factors, such as distractions, that messed up your race?”

“What a stupid question, no,” he scoffed before walking away. 

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Ollie Bearman: insulted

"Sorry about your race today Ollie, do you think that your partner Y/n being here might be a bad omen?"

He stared at her. "No. Why would she be?"

"It's her first GP and you DNF, if that's not bad luck I'm not sure what is."

"That's pretty rude," he scoffed. "Don't bring my girlfriend into this."

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Max Verstappen: guys…

"Sorry about your race today Max, do you think that your partner Y/n being here might be a bad omen?"

He stared at her, his eyes dark. "Fuck off."

"Excuse me?"

"That's bullshit, don't bring my family into this. If I have a bad race, I have a bad race, that's just how it goes. She isn't bad luck, she isn't for you to make headlines about and she's not here to just be a good omen. She's my partner and she's here to support me, that's it."

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Paul Aron: laughs in their face…

"How do you feel about the result to day, do you think things could've been different if someone wasn't distracting you?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"We saw your race engineer giving out to you and your partner Y/n for distracting you. Do you think she might now be a bad luck charm?"

He scoffed, laughing in her face. "Bullshit, someone turned into me and I didn't have enough time to react. Your headline can be about that, keep my girlfriend out of this."

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Jack Doohan: so normal about it! (...)

“Sorry about the race today Jack, do you think there are other factors, such as distractions, that messed up your race?”

He knew what they were trying to say. “Do you want to just say what you want to say to my face?” 

She was taken aback. “Do you think Y/n is a bad luck charm?”

He scoffed. “You’re seriously fishing for headlines when someone could’ve been seriously injured? That’s pathetic. And another thing, she’s not a fucking bad luck charm, she’s my partner, she’s not just a headline for you to fuck with.”

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[sunrizef1]

What Happens in Vegas pt 14

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, verbal abuse

Word Count: 1.6k

Authors Note: No Charles content in this one but important nonetheless

Summary: Logan and Y/N talk, y/n finally reveals who’s been texting her

Masterlist

“Have I ever told you about my family?”

Logan doesn’t reply for a moment, annoyance still resting under his deadpan expression. You’re both sat on the floor of his drivers room, backs resting against the wall behind you, coffee from the Williams hospitality sitting in foam cups getting cold as they sit, untouched. Champagne dries on the top of your skin, casting a sticky residue onto your face and the ends of your hair.

Your win was now forgotten, the trophy having been left in your room to be picked up by a random Porsche employee who’d eventually get it back to you. Logan’s DNF was also now forgotten, although it did leave a lasting effect on his mood, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed tightly.

“No, but I know your dad.”

You tilt your head, pulling the inside of your cheek between your teeth as you respond, “Well, you know him now.”

Logan doesn’t respond, not in the mood to play into your vagueness. He’d invited you here to explain. He knew you’d clarify eventually, whether he asked you to or not.

“It’s a complicated story,” you pause, bile rising to your throat at the notion of explaining your childhood and forcing you to swallow it back down, “You don’t have to say anything.”

Logan hums, obviously not planning on speaking much anyway. Both of you stare off toward the floor in front of you, unspoken words hanging in the air around you.

“I was born in France, not sure if you knew that,” you start after a moment, hesitance laced in your words, “Everyone thinks I was born in Texas but my mom would’ve rather died than let that happen.”

“You probably know my mom, Amelie Laurent, French, vogues favorite person and I guess she’s a pretty famous model,” Logan pauses for a second, no doubt not aware of who your mom was, before he nods in recognition of the name.

“When my parents had me, they were still in love, I think,” you furrow your eyebrows as the words leave your mouth, “Um, but after they had me, I guess they got really busy with their jobs and stuff so they sent me to live with my grandparents in Texas for a while.”

“Didn’t really see them much growing up. My dad took me to the paddock a lot though, I got to hang out with everyone at McLaren, which was nice.”

“But he was busy so I usually got stuck with Kimi and then eventually Lewis, when he joined, which is where the uncle Lew thing comes from. Sometimes I felt like McLaren and Mercedes raised me more than my dad did,” the end of your statement comes out in a whisper, this being the first time you’d voiced the idea.

Logan glances over as your face sours, his hand coming out to hand you your, now cold, coffee. You grasp it from him and take a sip, sliding it back down to the ground after.

“When I was 8 my parents had my brother, which I think was the final straw. They got a divorce right after and my dad moved me to England. My brother stayed in France with our mom,” you wince.

“I started karting, my grandma moved to England to take me around to races when my dad couldn’t. Despite my own… objections, I spent my summers at my moms house with her and my brother.”

You pause, stomach turning as you let out a shaky breath, memories flooding back. Logan shows his first emotion of the night, glancing over to check you're not going to die. When he confirms you're, in fact, breathing, he looks back to the floor.

“I don't think she wanted kids. Maybe she did. At one point. But I think, after the divorce, all I did was remind her of my dad, a man she hated more than anything. She made it obvious with the way she treated me, as well. Well actually, the way she treated both me and my brother.”

“She never wanted me in karting, made it clear. Only reminded her of my dad again, made me do ballet in the summers. Thought it was more proper, or whatever. Didn't let us speak English at her house either, we were only allowed French, took Juli forever to learn English correctly, he'd only grown up with her.”

“Juli?” Logan asks, adding his first bit of input since you'd started talking.

“Brother,” you mumble into your knees as you pull them into your chest, resting your tired face against them. Logan nods.

“Um, she yelled a lot, I guess. A lot of stuff about our futures and how we'd always be failures if we went through with racing and football, she didn't like that Julian only wanted to play football, either.”

“Dad didn’t know, I didn’t tell him,” you mumble, “I didn’t think there was that much wrong with it until I left.”

“She just sucked, man,” you groan, eyes shutting tight as your head falls back against the wall, “I hated her so much! Because I was winning, I was getting these championships and getting these trophies and I thought she’d finally accept that I wanted to kart but the only thing she’d tell me was that I’d never get anywhere!”

You take a deep breath, holding back the faint tears in your eyes.

“But yeah, that's the worst of it, really. Completely cut contact at 15. Begged my grandparents to let me spend summers with them. They let me.”

“It just stuck with me for a while, you know? The shit my mom would say. A lot of crap about how I was failing myself with racing or how I would never have a future if I continued down that path. Said a lot of things about how I'd always find a way to lose and that it would never be worth it if I wasn't the best. Everytime I lost a race, she would find a way to use it against me, proof that I shouldn't be racing.”

“I did block her though, couldn’t stand the constant texts when I lost. Probably wasn’t even very easy to find those results, they weren’t exactly mainstream,” you furrow your eyebrows, confusion passing over your face momentarily, “Anyway, three years later, I’m 18. I move out and sign an f3 contract. My dad got super busy with Lewis’s championships and Mercedes. Kimi was actually the first to congratulate me.”

“I haven't spoken to my mom or my brother in, what? 8 years? I've mostly forgotten them by now, paris a thing of the past,” you trail off, the air of Logan’s room suddenly feeling a lot colder.

“All this to say, um-“ you rush out, shaking your head quickly.

You finally look over toward Logan, moving your body to face his, “She texted me, in Australia. Told me that the crash was all she'd ever expected from me, anyway. She's been calling ever since.”

Logan turns his head, concern written on his face.

“I think I'd forgotten about everything she said since it's been so long. But that text kind of brought it all back. It's been stuck in my mind for every single race. That's the reason I’ve been so unfocused lately. I don’t even know how she got my number, she was blocked on my old number and then I just got a new one, I don’t know how she could’ve got it.”

Logan, having dropped his previous spite, quirks his head, “What about yesterday?”

You swallow thickly, “Julian texted me. She kicked him out. He’s staying with a teammate. He’s sixteen, Lo. He’s still a kid.”

You fall back against the wall with a thump, your hands coming up to cover your eyes, “He’s still in France, still training with PSG. He’s asked to talk to me before Monaco.”

“Monaco?”

You nod solemnly, “My least favorite race, too close to my mom. I was so relieved when they took France off the calendar, you know? I’m pretty sure that, until recently, she didn’t know I was even in F1. She’s sworn off any media that isn’t French and I chose to race under dads last name. Makes me think someone told her I was.”

Logan hums, trying to process all the information you’d just told him. Eventually, he pats you heavily on the back, groaning as he stands up. You look up as he reaches a hand down to you, questions laying in your gaze.

Logan pushes his hand further down toward you, “Seems like a good enough reason to go out, celebrate your win. We can talk heavy solutions in the morning. For now, you are a race winner. A race winner who needs to get her mind off her fucked up family.”

You grin at his words, grasping his outstretched hand and letting him pull you up, “You reacted better than Arthur did. Think he was about to throw up with me.”

Logan pauses, his face screwing up with faux betrayal, “You told Arthur before me?”

You roll your eyes, “I was having a panic attack on the floor of the bathroom, talking about it was the only thing to get me out of it.”

Logan smiles softly at your response, slinging an arm over your shoulder as you two walk out of his room, “Let’s go, winner. Who do you think the most famous person you can get to celebrate with you tonight is?”

You take a moment to think about your response, “I think I saw Kendall Jenner, I’m sure I’ll probably see her at some point.”

Logan hums, looking out ahead of both of you, “You know I’ve seen the pictures of you two in Miami last year? You were so far gone.”

You laugh, hitting him in the ribs, “Shut up. We should leave soon, Porsche has probably already started partying without us.”

Logan laughs, patting your shoulder lightly as you both go to leave the Miami paddock.

———————————————

[no-goodbyes-no-regrets]

This started as a shitpost but then after the basketball game/badge vs badge SWAT ep I decided to make it a thing™

Tommy and Rocker twins let's gooo

---

"So... you've met my family, you know my friends... when do I get to meet some of your people?" Buck asked.

They were lounging on Tommy's sofa, making the most of their shared day off, some gameshow on tv that neither were paying much attention to.

"My people?"

"Yeah. Your friends, family, your parents..."

"My dad is an asshole, you know that. And my mother died when I was 12." Tommy replied with a shrug, hoping that was the end of that conversation, but the look on Evan's face told him it wasn't. "I have an aunt and uncle who moved to Michigan not long after I enlisted, a cousin in Vegas and one in New York... and some aunts and uncles in Italy that I haven't seen since I was a kid... And you've met Sal and my crew at Harbor."

"No siblings?"

"I uh... yeah I have a twin brother. He's seven minutes older." Tommy told him after a beat.

Buck sat up.

"You have a twin? Why didn't you tell me? Does he live in LA? Can I meet him? What's his name?"

Tommy sighed.

"We're... We kind of drifted apart over the years. His ex didn't like me much and we're both busy with work and stuff..."

"What does he do? Is he a pilot too?"

Tommy smiled.

"No, he's always preferred to keep both feet on the ground. He's with the LAPD."

"He's a cop?" Buck asked, a mischievous grin spreading over his face. "I'm going to ask Athena if she knows anyone named Kinard." he grabbed his phone from the coffee table. "What's his first name?"

"Donovan. But she won't know him as Kinard. He goes by Rocker. He hated our dad more than me."

"Donovan Rocker?" Buck asked and Tommy nodded. "We were Donny and Tommy as kids."

"That's kind of cute. Do you have a picture of him?"

"Upstairs probably. In the albums from my grandma's place." Tommy told him, making no move to go get them. "Give me your phone, I'll see if I can find a more recent picture of him."

Buck handed his phone over and waited as Tommy typed something and scrolled.

"There. That's him. In the middle. That's his team."

"He's SWAT?"

"Yep. I enlisted, he enrolled in the police academy. He's married to the job."

"Sounds like someone else I know." Buck said with a wink.

Tommy tried and failed to look offended.

"He's even more married to the job than me. Ever since he took over as team leader a few years ago, he's put everything into it." he explained. "He texted me a couple of months ago saying his divorce had finally gone through and we went out for a beer. It was nice to catch up."

"Did you tell him about me?" Buck asked with a grin.

"I hadn't met you yet actually. It was a few days before Howie called me."

"And you didn't invite him to the medal ceremony?"

Tommy shrugged.

"It was no big deal. He probably had to work. And when we talked he mentioned he was seeing one of his coworkers but they were keeping it on the down low for now." another shrug. "I didn't want him to give up time with his new love. His ex was crazy, he deserves to enjoy this."

Buck nodded, deciding not to dig into why his boyfriend thought getting a medal wasn't a big deal or something to invite his brother to.

"So let's invite them over here for dinner sometime. I'll cook, you get to scope out your brother's new girlfriend, and I get to meet my boyfriend's brother."

Tommy smiled.

"You've got the whole thing planned out already haven't you?"

"Maybe... But is that so bad? I want to meet your brother, I want to get to know your friends... Your people..."

"I'll ask him." Tommy promised and got up to grab his phone from where he'd plugged it in to charge. "Oh. That's right." he mumbled when he unlocked it. "The badge vs badge thing is coming up."

"The what now?"

"LAFD vs LAPD. Sports events. To raise money for charity." Tommy explained. "They're doing this now instead of the calendar."

"Oh the firefighters calendar? Did you know Chim got picked for that a few years ago? Eddie and I both tried too but only he got picked. Mister April."

"Yeah. I was June."

"What?! You were on the calendar?"

"Yeah. Lost a bet. Kind of." Tommy shrugged. "There's a basketball game on the 17th. I don't know if Don... Rocker is playing. I'll ask him which events he's doing. Maybe we could meet up with him there and grab a beer after."

"Sure. Sounds good. I promise I won't try to break anyone's ankles for getting too close to you." Buck joked. "Now please tell me you have a copy of this calendar and I won't have to ask Chim for his."

---

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 22: heirloom

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

The idea that in just a couple of days you were going to marry Spencer Reid felt unreal.

Your dream had always been to get married and start a small family with a good man: one who was gentle, hardworking, and, of course, kind.

Spencer adored you. There wasn’t a moment in the day when he wasn’t attentive to your needs, and even when work demanded a lot of his time, he made sure to stay in touch. He cared about you.

You doubted there were any words to describe the feelings you had for him. Love seemed like too short of a word compared to how you would practically give him your life if it made him happy. You were sure that the main reason you could sacrifice everything for him was that you knew your fiancé would never ask you to do such a thing.

You had gone to pick up your wedding dress from a fashion house that specialized in modernizing them, so you could wear what had once been your late mother’s dress. You thought it would be a nice way to honor her and let her know that you were now walking down the aisle, just as she had always hoped to see.

“Knock, knock,” you heard a voice at the door of the room that was serving as your dressing room.

Your future husband was wearing a dark brown tweed jacket, and his wavy hair fell gracefully around his face. Maybe it was the excitement of your upcoming wedding, but you found him more and more handsome, with that fair skin and those pink lips that made you want to cover him in kisses.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“Am I interrupting anything?”

“No, I just tried on the dress a moment ago, and everything is perfect,” you said happily. He approached you, put his arms around your waist, and stole a kiss. “I look pretty.”

“You always look pretty,” he added. It seemed that this mutual adoration was shared because, at that moment, Spencer was looking at you as if he saw the sun, the moon, and the stars in your eyes.

“Do you want to see the dress?”

“No,” he quickly replied. “It’s bad luck.”

“Seriously?” you huffed, incredulous.

“They say it can ruin the ceremony or the marriage, and that’s the last thing I want.”

“For a man of science, you turned out to be quite superstitious.”

“Better safe than sorry,” he murmured, pouting a little, which you had no trouble kissing away. “I want everything to be perfect.”

“Something’s going to go wrong, that’s inevitable. Maybe I’ll trip on my way to the altar, your suit will catch fire, a guest will get aggressive, the priest won’t show up, we’ll get completely drunk, have sex, and I’ll get pregnant…”

“Everything sounds catastrophic except the last part,” he mused, making you laugh.

Your fiancé had been more affectionate lately, and you let him kiss your cheek. Slowly, he sniffed your face, moved to your hair, and finally nibbled gently on your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine.

“Spence…”

“I brought you something,” he whispered, his voice velvety near you.

You missed his warmth when he pulled away, rummaging through his pocket. You waited patiently and then saw him offer you a small burgundy box.

“But I already have my engagement ring, handsome,” you laughed, showing him your left hand.

Spencer shook his head and said it was something else, so curious about the contents of the box, you did as he asked. Inside was a beautiful gold locket, with a light blue surface and a white engraving of a bird flying near some flowers.

“It belonged to my mother,” he explained. “It’s kind of a family heirloom. It was supposed to be passed down through the daughters, but Mom only had me. And the week I was in Las Vegas, I asked her if I could give it to you.”

“Is that a hummingbird?”

“Yes. They have many spiritual meanings, but in this case, symbolize that our love is light, joyful, and enduring, as hummingbirds can travel great distances despite their size. It could also be a symbol of hope for a bright future for us.”

As he explained, you felt strangely moved by it all. You had never received anything like this before, and you always thought this kind of tradition was reserved for aristocratic or wealthy families. But no, your future life partner was offering you this treasure because he wanted you to continue that tradition, implying that one day you would have a daughter to pass it on to.

“There’s nothing inside.”

“You can put whatever you want in it.”

“I’ll put a picture of my husband,” you said with a smile, reaching up to place your hand on his cheek. “I love it. Thank you so much for giving it to me.”

“Mom was so happy. She loves you a lot.”

“And I love her. I’m grateful she’s letting me steal her son.”

“And she thinks the opposite. She’s happy to know I’ll be in good hands, with someone who loves and cares for me.”

You were drunk on love for him. You knew that, like everything in the world, relationships had their complications, but sometimes you liked to think Spencer was the perfect man for you.

Children always assumed their parents were soulmates, and you knew with certainty that yours wouldn’t be wrong.

Suddenly, one of your hands moved on its own to his hair, twirling a lock around your finger.

“How strange would it be if I put one of those golden curls I love so much in my locket?”

“In this situation, it’d be romantic, actually. But if you were a stranger, it’d be classified as stalking and could escalate to homicide.”

Laughter burst from your chest, and he smiled to himself, pleased he had made you laugh.

“I still find it hard to believe we’re getting married. It’s so strange.”

“In a bad way?”

“No, no. I mean, it feels… like a dream. I feel too happy for it to be real.”

“Well, I assure you it’s very real,” he assured you, holding you tenderly.

Even if Spencer didn’t tell you he loved you (which he did all the time), just looking into his eyes would be enough for you to know. Those honey-colored eyes, like a deer’s, that refused to look at anyone but you.

A phone call interrupted your moment, and you caught a glimpse of the contact name: David Rossi. Spencer greeted him kindly but somewhat confused, and as the conversation progressed, his frown deepened. You heard him tell the man several times that it wasn’t necessary, that he didn’t want him to go to the trouble, and he shook his head more times than you could count. But apparently, his friend was insistent on the matter, whatever it was.

“Is everything okay?”

“Rossi wants us to go to a wine tasting now. He says he’ll cover the cost of all the drinks for the wedding reception.”

At that moment, you understood why Spencer had been so adamant in refusing, and you were quite surprised by the offer. David knew you, but you didn’t expect him to offer something on that scale.

“Isn’t that too much?”

“I tried to tell him, but he’s as stubborn as a mule. He insists it’s a special occasion since the baby of the unit is getting married.”

A soft exclamation escaped your lips, and Spencer chuckled, not entirely pleased that you agreed with the nickname.

“Everyone loves you so much. We love you so much.”

You stood on your tiptoes to give him one last (or so you hoped) kiss on the cheek and hurried to grab the bag with your dress. You were about to leave when you stopped in your tracks, telling him you had forgotten something.

“What is it?”

“I forgot to ask for your help fastening my locket.”

He smiled and happily obliged, taking special care with the task. From that day on, the piece of jewelry became practically a part of you. And, as tradition dictated, it was passed on to your daughter when someone was worthy of receiving it.

[writergirlll]

can you write something about F1 driver (doesn't matter who) x reader, when they were best friends since childhood, but then suddenly they become strangers. no one knows how, why, and not even themselves, until they meet at the Las Vegas GP after a long absence..

Yeah suree. (I know this is pretty bad, but I wrote this late at night, so sorry, I'll just get better!!)

CHILD MEMORIES /LH44

Lewis Hamilton x reader

I don't know why I put Lewis, but somehow he fit me there..

words: 2k+

You were everything. You brightened up anyone, you laughed at everything, you were the sun of Mercedes. Everyone loved you, you were inseparable.

You and Lewis have been best friends since birth. Your families were close, so you practically had no choice but to hang out with each other. But the decision was great!

You spent whole days together, the same kindergarten, elementary school and then high school. You weren't even separated when Lewis started driving F1 because you followed him to EVERY race. Everyone knew how close you were. Journalists, fans, co-workers of Lewis, your families and you.

That's why you just didn't know what happened. Four months have passed since Lewis' last race. And you haven't seen each other in four months. You didn't know why, you didn't know how.

Lewis stopped texting you, stopped answering your calls, and blocked you pretty much everywhere. You couldn't comment on his posts, you couldn't do anything. When you were waiting for him three days ago after the race, you didn't even get to see him because Russell kicked you out saying that Lewis definitely didn't want to see you.

You didn't understand it at all because you were inseparable and the worst part was that everyone asked you about it. Your whole family asked you, your friends, fans of you and Lewis, or even the press. But you just couldn't answer. You couldn't tell them that you had absolutely no idea what was going on and you wanted to know. You couldn't tell them it was Lewis who cut you off because he would be blamed. And okay, maybe he's ignoring you right now and you don't know why, but you're definitely not a bitch who would betray him and take the blame on him. Yes, he was at fault, but not everyone needs to know that..

And that's why you decided to go to the race in Las Vegas, to find out the answers. You knew it might not be a good idea because you might get fired again and it would be even worse for your psyche, but you had to know the answers. Just had to.

“Y/n no! You're not going to the movies with him” Lewis started yelling at you when you were nine.

,,Why? You are not my mom to order me around. He's nice to me and he doesn't yell at me unlike you" you stuck your tongue out at him and started putting on your mom's lipstick.

"He's not nice. He's just using you" he shook his head and stepped closer to you.

"But he's handsome. You don't know him at all” you mumbled as you concentrated on putting red on your lips.

"I know him. He doesn't do homework at all and his dad is said to have been in prison. He's not nice to me at all" he explained and you turned to him.

“Is it true?” you asked and he nodded quickly, his head almost falling off. "But I already have the tickets and I've made an appointment with him" you whined.

"Then you will come with me and we will write him a letter on the way. He only lives a few minutes away anyway" Lew thought up and you finally went along with his solution.

You took off your lipstick and pulled out a piece of paper and started writing - which looked like a scratch that you weren't going anywhere with. Then you put it in the envelope Lew had made in the meantime, sealed it with saliva, and dropped it in his mailbox when you went to the cinema.

At home, you packed some things, bought tickets and booked a hotel. You told your parents and everyone close to you about your plan and got on the plane.

After a few hours of flight, you finally flew to Las Vegas, called a taxi and went to check into the hotel.

When you did this, you decided it was time to go get answers. You didn't know what you would say to him when you saw him in four months, or if you would see him at all, but you wanted to at least try.

You've been pretty sick these past few months and weeks. You were constantly wondering if it was your fault and what you did wrong. The family told you that it might not be your fault but his, but you just didn't want to believe that Lewis would do something like that. Certainly not the Lewis you knew.

You cried for days and nights and it took you a long time to sort of recover from it. You knew that if Lewis ignored you even today, or didn't let you see him, it would be even worse. But why not give it a try?

You left the hotel straight to the track, where the qualification was supposed to start in an hour so you were hoping to catch Lewis before quali started.

You showed your VIP ticket at the entrance to the track, even though the people at the gate already knew you very well and would have taken you without a ticket, and you headed to the Mercedes garage, more nervous than ever.

You slowly shuffled there, already having several journalists on your neck, which you successfully ignored. And you also successfully ignored the feeling that told you to turn around and not go there at all.

It wasn't long before you saw a boy in a blue jumpsuit who revealed himself to be George Russell. As soon as you approached him, he noticed you and frowned at first before smiling slightly when he saw your expression.

“Y/n hi. You haven't been here long" he said as he walked up to you and gave you a quick hug.

"Yeah well, I didn't have much reason to walk there" you smiled firmly and looked around for Lewis. "Don't you know where Lewis is?" you asked and George's smile immediately disappeared from his face.

"I think he doesn't want to talk to you much. Besides we are going quali in a bit” he said quickly and you frowned.

"I absolutely do not see why you are bodyguarding him, but I want to know the reason why he did this to me. I have a right to know” you got angry.

"I know, I know but..-"

"No, no but. Just let me go to him. I need to know” you whispered the last part of your sentence and with that George pulled away from you leaving you to search the area.

You searched for quite a long time before you finally caught sight of his head. He was already dressed in his racing suit and was looking for something on the table, among all the things. You stopped for a moment before taking a deep breath and stepping forward..

Either it will ruin your life or you will find out the reason..

“Lewis?” your little six year old self whispered and patted little Lewis.

“Yeah” he turned sleepily in his bed and looked at you.

"Could I sleep with you? I'm scared on the floor" you whispered and desperately hoped he would say yes. You were supposed to sleep with him, but since his bed was small, you had to sleep on the floor, which you didn't like.

Little Lewis didn't answer, he just shifted on the bed towards the wall and lifted the covers. You quickly took advantage of this and crawled under the covers, where you snuggled up.

"Thank you so much" you smiled a little and felt tiredness wash over you. Lewis barely nodded, himself already in dreamland and put his arm around your small body and hugged you.

"I love you" you kissed his cheek and rested your head on his shoulder.

"Me too" Lewis smiled, pulling you closer and together you slowly returned to the realm of dreams..

“Lewis?” You asked cautiously, stepping a fair distance away from him to give you some space. You could see a light bulb go off in his head that it was you and he tensed slightly before turning to you.

"What are you doing here?" he asked without a greeting and glared at you. Okay, maybe you really should have stayed home..

"I came to watch the race" you replied because you didn't want to argue right now even though you knew it would most likely end up like that.

"And did you buy VIP tickets?" he rolled his eyes at your stupidity and you couldn't take it anymore.

"Why are you ignoring me? Why did you just do all this overnight" you asked him and even though it was only the first question, tears formed in your eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about" Lewis shook his head and went back to looking for things.

"Lewis, you know it very well. Did I do something wrong? Did I say something wrong? Because I really don't know why you just left me without an explanation after more than 30 years of knowing each other" you frowned and you made him turn around.

"I don't know okay" he started waving his hands and sighed.

“So you don't know?” you whispered, a single tear falling down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away, but Lewis seemed to see it. "After all four months, when I cried constantly because I didn't know the fuck reason why you did it, you're going to tell me that you don't know? You don't even know how much I've been worried about this because how could you when you blocked me everywhere and when I followed you George dumped me” now you started crying.

Looking at your tear covered face, Lewis softened slightly and moved a little closer to you. "I couldn't see you" he only said and looked sympathetic. "I really wanted, I wanted to hug you and explain everything to you, but I couldn't".

"But why"? you sniffed and wiped away the stray tears with the back of your hand - and that there were a lot of them.

"I" he started and ran a hand through his hair without continuing. "Maya, my ex-girlfriend. I started dating her shortly before I cut you off, you didn't even get to know her. She was very angry that I was talking to you and on top of that the whole team said that I was fired by you because I wasn't winning so many races, so I thought this would be the easiest solution. I knew it was definitely wrong, but it was the easiest. But when Maya broke up with me a month ago because she found someone else, I didn't have the strength to go to you. I knew you'd be mad. I knew I messed up terribly. Please forgive me. Please" now he started crying too.

His explanation left you completely shocked. You didn't know what to say to that. You may have understood Maya because you yourself have experienced that a person behaves differently under the pressure of a loved one, but that his team said are you distracting him?

“So this was the easiest solution?” you finally asked.

"Yes. No. I don't know. I really don't know, please forgive me. I understand what you had to go through and I don't want to lose all those years when we were kids and teenagers" he begged walking closer to you before wiping your wet cheeks with his big hands.

"And Mercedes thinks I'm distracting you"?

"Well, George doesn't. The other teams didn't either, but we really had a tough season, everyone thought differently, they certainly didn't mean it" he hugged you tightly and didn't want to let go.

You wrapped your arms around his back and he wrapped his around your waist. "Let's not lose all our friendship, please. I'll do anything" he whispered in your ear and you nodded.

He might have done a bad thing that cost you an extreme amount of tears and everything, but he was still Lewis, who you had loved since birth and who would never knowingly do something so horrible.

"Lew i don't want to lose our friendship either. But I will remember what you did. And I also hope that your Maya, who is probably a nice bitch by the way, doesn't show up in my life" you laughed lightly and Lewis too.

So in the end it turned out to be a good decision to go to Las Vegas...

“What if we never see each other again?” you sighed and looked deeply into the eyes of your best friend of 15 years.

"We'll see. I'm only going there for a few days for now, but you'll be able to go to my races. I'll give you a discount" he smiled at you seeing your concern and you shook your head.

Lew got an offer to F1, when they invited him to an audition and if he succeeded, he would go to junior competitions for a few years in Italy.

"You can't leave me here" you shook your head once more and pulled him into a hug.

"I won't let. Never. Best friends forever"?

"Best Friends Forever".

[changetyre]

MORE OSCAR SMUT PLEEEEEASE. The last one slapped. maybe where he rescues you from a creep? Idk. Thanks in advance!

Please II Oscar Piastri ⓈⒽⓌ

SUMMARY: After a scary encounter you seek comfort in your savior..

WARNINGS: **18+**, creep, violence, assault. Not proofread.

A/N: I'm a little behind on requests but with Christmas coming up I've been busy with gift finding, uni, seeing friends and family, and whatnot. Also, I'm really shit with endings so...srry.

"Yes, Dad I'm on my way back I promise." You spoke to your dad on the phone as you walked back to the hotel from a Red Bull party a few blocks down.

Being the daughter of a team principal came with its perks, being able to travel for free and meeting really hot Formula 1 drivers were just some of them.

Tonight you'd been invited to a Redbull party at the Las Vegas GP where you weren't even half surprised to see a Redbull car hanging from the ceiling. You hadn't even realized how late it was only intending to be at the party for a few hours knowing the next day would be busy.

Your dad had asked you to text him when you were on your way back and thinking you'd forgotten your dad had gone to sleep only to receive a text nearing 3 am where he decided to call and scold you...as usual.

"Dad calm down, there's literally people everywhere it's not like I'm completely alone, and besides I'm here in the lobby already." You rolled your eyes at your dad's dramatism.

"I expect you to be up and early tomorrow." Your dad simply said before hanging up.

You laughed as you walked to the elevator. The doors were about to close when a hand stopped them from shutting completely and they opened again.

In came a man who looked completely wasted already making you stand up straighter, warning signs going off inside your head. The doors shut and the second warning sign came when he didn't press a floor button.

You made yourself small trying to not grab any attention tucking yourself into the corner hoping the man would just leave you but as soon as you saw him slowly turn to you and smirk you knew that wouldn't be the case.

"what's your name baby girl." He stumbled all the way to you trapping you in the corner. You turned your head avoiding his face, the stench of alcohol dizzying you.

"Please get away from me." You tried your hardest to sound firm.

He laughed. "c,mon we're just having fun." He let his body fall onto you, his weight trapping your hands beside you.

"GET OFF ME!" This time you screamed louder fear present in your voice.

"Just relax." The man then whispered as he put his mouth on your neck trying to plant kisses all over as you tried wriggling away with all your strength.

"HEY!" You had completely missed the fact that the elevator had stopped and apparently so had the creep since the next thing you knew he was getting thrown off you.

You breathed a sigh of relief at the fact he was finally off you and even more at seeing a familiar face.

"y/n?" Oscar realized it was you which only angered him further. "WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM!" You heard Oscar scream before landing a punch to the man's jaw.

The next few minutes were a blur, you saw a hotel maid run by to see what was going on before guards were called. Oscar demanded they arrest the man and check the security cameras in the elevator to which the hotel staff assured they would do so and more and apologized greatly to you and him for what happened.

You simply nodded and gave short answers but wanted nothing more than to simply get away from all of this already.

"Hey let's get you back to your room." Oscar placed a gentle hand on your arm. You leaned into his touch and he put his arm around your waist keeping you close as he walked you to your room.

"Thank you." Your voice was still shaky but you felt much better now that it was over.

"Oh no don't need to thank me, he should've never touched you," Oscar replied.

You arrived to your room and you opened the door, turning around on the doorway to face Oscar.

"Uhm Oscar could you-"

"I'll leave you-" Oscar spoke at the same time as you.

You both froze waiting for the other to speak but you took the opportunity. "Can you please stay with me?" You asked him.

"Are you sur-" Oscar didn't want to overstep.

"Please. Please Oz." You begged.

And that's how Oscar found himself lying beside you in the hotel bed. It was awkward, he wasn't sure what to say or do and his nerves only increased when you'd scooted closer to him laying your head on his chest.

"uhm you okay?" Oscar chose to break the silence noticing neither of you were even close to falling asleep, you drawing circles on his chest a good indicator.

"I'm better now." shivers filled Oscar's body at the change in your tone, your voice was softer but more sure now. You looked up at him and Oscar just about stopped breathing at the closeness.

You weren't sure what it was exactly but the closeness you felt with Oscar had made you feel...warm in all sorts of places and you wanted more. Propping yourself further up you pressed your lips to Oscar.

You could feel the initial shock from him before he started kissing you back, combing your hair back with his fingers as he deepened the kiss.

You let out a soft moan at the fact things were quickly getting heated but were frustrated when all of a sudden Oscar pulled away standing up and taking a step away from the bed.

"No...no this isn't okay you've just- I can't- you're vulnerable and-" Oscar stuttered, it didn't matter how much he really wanted this he couldn't take advantage of the situation like this.

"Please Oz." The way the words had such different meanings from just a few moments ago. "I want this...I really want you." You said as you kneeled on the bed facing him.

The way Oscar's dick throbbed was criminal enjoying the way you so prettily positioned yourself on the bed wearing nothing but an oversized shirt which didn't do much to hide the space between your legs and he'd be blind not to notice the way your nipples poked out.

"Fuck-" Oscar cursed himself.

"Please Oz make me feel good." Your innocent voice almost made him pass out right then and there.

Look, maybe he was a horrible person for this...but he couldn't resist.

Stepping forward Oscar pulled you towards him by placing his hand on your neck, he knew you liked it as soon as you moaned into his mouth.

He slowly pushed you back onto the bed as he got over you not breaking the kiss. With his other hand, Oscar used his thumb to play with your nipples loving the way you squirmed at his touch.

He began kissing down your neck while his other hand began caressing your bare legs inching higher and higher slowly.

"Ah, shit...ah." He smirked at the reactions he was getting from you taking the time to tease you a little as his fingers just grazed over your panties but not just yet putting any pressure.

"Oscar just touch me already...please." Oscar had never felt anything like it when you grabbed his hand and brought them closer to you.

He let you partially take control as you began using his hand to rub it against yourself for a few seconds before curling your fingers through the back of his hand and placing it inside your panties.

"Holy shit you're gonna kill me," Oscar whispered to himself as he felt the way you guided his fingers through your folds before rubbing circles on your clit.

Oscar let you do what you please with his hands as he continued kissing the rest of your body not caring the way he was leaving marks practically everywhere.

"Please fuck me." You then asked.

The way you seemed to ask for everything so nicely only made Oscar want more and more of you.

"Of course baby." He whispered as he pulled his hand out of your panties with a little reluctance from you so he could strip himself off his clothes.

He saw as you were about to take your shirt off. "Leave it on," Oscar demanded, there was something about you in an oversized shirt with the idea of being bare underneath that just made the ache between his legs a little bigger.

You smirked noticing the desperation in Oscar's voice. Once he freed himself Oscar climbed back over you before holding his dick and rubbing it through your folds a few times.

You rolled your eyes back at the anticipation just waiting for him to fill you up already and it didn't take long before your wishes were fulfilled.

Despite the fact Oscar wanted to fuck you senseless he reigned his needs in and took his time thrusting into you, letting you adjust to his size and length.

"Fuck that's so good." You muttered breathlessly. "Faster Oz please."

You begged the knot in your stomach building up with each second.

Oscar propped his elbows beside you to steady himself before he started setting a pace, loving the way you immediately wrapped your arms and legs around him trying to pull him closer.

"sh*t you're so tight." Oscar could feel the way your walls almost clawed at him every time he pulled back out. "It's like you were made just for me, right baby?" Oscar had never truly been vocal during sex but there was something about you that just made him want to talk.

"Yeah...yes." You replied breathless again having a hard time focusing on his words from the overwhelming pleasure that was building up.

"You're taking me so good." Oscar smiled as he noticed the way your moans got louder and your breath quickened.

"Oz I'm gonna cum...I'm gonna cum." You cried out.

"Cum baby." Oscar was close too but to be honest he didn't care if he didn't finish as long as you did. After a few seconds, he could feel you clenched around him before your body shivered underneath him. His pace initially quickened before gradually slowing down fucking you through your orgasm.

And even though he thought he'd need more the sight of you coming undone seemed to be enough for Oscar as he pulled out pushing your shirt a little higher as he shot his load onto your stomach.

"Fuck." Oscar groaned at the sight of you clutching your breasts as he came onto you. "Shit, that was amazing." Oscar panted as he came down from his high.

"Yeah...you made me feel so good Oz." You replied innocently once more as if you hadn't just done the filthiest thing with him.

"Any time." He smirked as he helped you clean up.

[pocket-watcher]

Gosh I know everyone loves the idea of a stage hypnotist with a skeptical audience member, but what about a stage hypnotist with a skeptical assistant?? A new assistant doesn’t actually believe in their boss’ abilities, so the hypnotist proves their skills (and gets a new toy along the way)?

Ooooo I really like this! That’s great, honestly.

Zoey was running low on funds.

That’s what she repeated to herself over and over as she approached The Magnificent Matteo’s studio for the first day of her new job.

Magic was bullshit, and everyone knew it.

Maybe there was one moment when she went to that Vegas show and thought it was real but that was 6 years ago and she was very, very drunk whilst watching.

And now here she was, stone cold sober and regretting her life choices which led her here.

“Zoey?” A voice called. Matteo. “Come in, come in! Welcome. You can leave your coat wherever you want. Let me show you around.”

He was nice enough. Here’s the coffee machine, here’s your desk, I know some good lunch spots around here, blah blah blah.

“And this is where the magic happens…. Literally!” He laughed a bit too hard at his joke. Zoey was sure he told it to every person who walked through the door.

The props caught her eye: fake flowers, top hats, a wand, and a large collection of pocket watches.

“Ah, I see you’ve found my favourite section.” He said, somehow appearing behind her, causing Zoey to jump. “Magic and hypnosis are closely linked, you know.”

She hummed in agreement, not trusting that her words wouldn’t come out as something like “yeah, they’re linked because neither of them are real.”

Matteo selected a watch from the display.

“Have you ever been hypnotised, Zoey?” He asked.

She shook her head and resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Interesting. I usually pick an audience member. They tend to think it’s fake if I use my assistant, but I often need the practice. Would you be comfortable with aiding me in the future?”

She couldn’t say she didn’t believe, as that would ultimately reveal how she truly saw his profession. Instead, she settled on an answer she thought would get her out of ‘practice’ whilst keeping the lie up.

“I don’t think I can be hypnotised.”

The sparkle in Matteo’s eye made her grimace. She’d clearly said the wrong thing.

He gestured for her to sit.

“Would you mind if I put that to the test?”

She nonchalantly shrugged. It was fine, Zoey could just play along if she had to. She’d at least be able to use her acting degree for something.

Matteo dangled the pocket watch in-front of her eyes.

She watched as it heavily swayed back and forth. Slowly rocking. The clock face ticked, ticked, ticked as each second passed.

Another second that she was regretting not taking a job like dog walking or an unpaid internship.

“Just keep your eyes focused on the back and forth motion.”

Matteo’s voice was deeper now. Softer, too. Zoey had to admit his change in demeanour stirred something within her.

It was a pretty watch. Not one of those janky toy watches where the cover would snap off 5 minutes after you bought it. This looked like a family heirloom, or something someone with plenty of money to throw around would buy. Not that she’d know anything about that.

Matteo was still talking to her in that deep, soft voice, but honestly? Zoey had zoned out already. Focus was never her strong suit. Follow the dopamine, or whatever.

She simply let her mind drift as the watch dragged her eyes left to right to left to right…

“I’m going to count to three and snap my fingers. Once I do you’re going to fall into a deep, deep trance.”

Okay, sure bud. Whatever you say.

“One… two… three…”

SNAP

Everything went dark. Underwater. Zoey could hear people laughing. Cheering. Her thoughts were just out of reach, like a dream slipping through your fingertips as you wake up.

SNAP

She jolted awake, and the cheers surrounded her.

She was on stage. As was Matteo.

“Give it up for my lovely assistant Zoey!”

How long had it been? Was it even the same day? She wasn’t meant to have a show for another week?!

Matteo guided her behind the curtain.

“You did great out there tonight.” He said, smiling down at her.

“What did you do to me?! How long has it been?!” She pulled away from him.

He frowned.

“Oh, no need to worry about all that. Magic isn’t real, remember?” He held his hands ready to snap.

“And neither is hypnosis.” She finished blankly, as she was thrown back into trance.

[vhstown]

time out (part 1)

[boxer au] — 42!miles g morales x gn!reader

summary: Miles Morales makes boxing history. Your boyfriend isn't there to celebrate.

warnings: angst-ish, description of (boxing) injuries, self-destructive behaviours, briefly implied death, pov switch (yay), gtranslate spanish

word count: 3.9k

a/n: ive never written 42 miles before but he's a cool lil guy split into two parts cuz it was too long 😭 semi-edited (for the millionth time)

PART 2 → / THE AU

"Just six rounds in, Miles Morales knocks out the Vulture!"

Screams and cheers exploded from your phone as you laid in bed, watching the recap of your boyfriend's boxing match. Your eyes were straining from how close you were holding the screen to your face; this was probably the third time you’d watched Miles’ win. After training to hell and back, he’d made it to the national league with you and Aaron to support him. He did more than just “make it”, in fact. His “revolutionary” victory was plastered all over social media and the news. Everywhere you looked was: “17-YEAR-OLD NYC BOXER OVERTAKES LIGHTWEIGHT CHAMPION ‘VULTURE’ IN US NATIONALS”. Miles Morales — your boyfriend — had made boxing history.

The giddy grin on your face only grew wider as he came up again on screen, sporting the stoic expression he'd perfected over the last few months behind the overly-done editing and animations of the recap. As much as you'd wanted to go out and see him live (though begging your family to let you go to Vegas wasn’t exactly feasible), he'd made it clear he didn't want you, or anyone for that matter, in that arena. It was something about having "total focus" — and it must've worked, you thought, as you watched him give his post-fight interview.

“I jus’ hope you watchin’, cause I’m here. Miles Morales made it!”

Despite his boyish, adrenaline-fuelled shout at the mic, the quiet laugh you let out was one of pride rather than embarrassment. He had every right to celebrate, and you were watching, even if it wasn’t live. Everything he'd done up until this point was well worth it: the constant training, sparring, the late nights and early mornings — maybe even the countless unanswered texts and missed calls too. Miles had worked himself to the bone, and while it might've worried you at the time, it was nothing compared to the satisfaction you felt while watching him on screen. He knew what he was doing; Miles was semi-professional at this point. You had to let him do his own thing, even if that meant letting him go for a while.

Right now, though, Miles was home from Vegas. Tapping out of the video, you scrambled to your messages. The last ones were from you, sent weeks ago, a "good luck" and "i love you" read and without a response. Your fingers kept missing the keys, and you frowned at yourself until you finally were able to hit send.

CONGRATS BABY!!! Not delivered

IM SO PROUD OF YOU Not delivered

You tried resending them, only to be met with the same red message.

why arent my texts sending Not delivered

miles??? Not delivered

Not delivered? It'd almost been three days since the tournament; Miles always had his phone on.

"To leave a message, please press one—" The call went to voicemail for the third time. Your stomach swirled with something like uncertainty. It didn't even ring at all. Miles made it a habit to always be available, so why...?

Boxers needed time to recover, he was probably just tired and turned his phone off. Or he could be busy with an interview; Miles Morales was sort of a celebrity right now — who wouldn't want to talk to the 17-year-old boxing prodigy? You knew you wanted to, prodigy or not.

It was probably because you hadn’t seen Miles in so long, but possibilities kept forming in your head, disappearing just as fast. What if he blocked you? Or he could’ve changed his number. Were you over? No. Nope. No way. Not like this.

There was one other reason that made some sort of sense, but you decided to think against it. Miles had made it to the semi-finals in entire the National League. It was over; he'd gotten what he wanted. He was supposed to be resting right now.

Miles wasn't that stupid, right...?

You pulled up Rio's contact. It was better to be safe than sorry.

Riiiiiiing, riiiiiiing…

Better for him to be safe than sorry — or stupid.

"Hello?"

"Hola, tía, uh, could I speak to Miles?" You felt just a little crazy as you held the phone to your ear, but there was no harm in calling his mom.

"Ah, he's not home right now — said he was going out with his tío."

"Oh… Do you know where they went?"

"I'm not sure. Something important. About a... contract?"

"Contract…?" you muttered to yourself. “Okay… thank you.” It wasn't like you knew anything about a contract, though it wasn't like Miles would tell you anyway. At least he was safe, and with Aaron. It was probably important, official — something that didn't involve you. Not a lot of things in Miles’ life involved you, it seemed.

"How have you been?” Rio's voice interrupted your thoughts. You had called her out of nowhere, and after a while. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Oh, um..." The last time you'd talked to Rio was… right before Miles had left for Vegas. Well, you hadn't exactly talked. All you remember is just comforting her in silence. "Yeah, tía. Have you?"

"I have, but I've just been all over the place recently. So many reporters…" Rio's voice lifted up slightly in exasperation. You could only imagine what it was like for her. Your feelings suddenly felt a lot less significant, and you were back to your comforting mode all over again.

"I see. Must be exhausting." You attempted a polite laugh, which came out more like a sigh. If only you could be as patient as Rio…

"I'm so proud, though." Her voice warmed with a smile. If your chest ached with melancholy or empathy, you didn't know. "I didn't want him to leave home so soon. I still think this whole… professional thing is a bit too much, but… I want to trust him also."

"I'm sure he'll be fine, tía. If he's in the nationals already, he's probably getting a lot of support." It was more like you were trying to convince yourself. "I'm sure he has great coaches... and he's got me and Aar— uh, his uncle, too."

"I know…" For a moment, you weren't sure if either of you had anymore to say.

"…If not, I'll have to go there myself and give them a piece of my mind, eh?" she continued. You weren’t sure if it was a joke, but a smile formed on your lips anyway.

"Yeah…" A quiet laugh leaving your mouth at the image of Rio cussing out Miles' poor manager, in two languages no less. No wonder he was such a good boxer — Rio must have passed down her fighting spirit. "Maybe you'd even get signed,” you joked, the image of that even more amusing (and a scary possibility.)

Rio let out her own laugh, and your smile only grew; talking to her always made you feel better. "Me? Boxing? Nunca (Never.) — I'll work in that hospital until the end of me."

There was another stretch of silence. You thinned out a sigh, trying not to let the smile leave your face, even if she wasn’t there to see it.

"Come over for dinner tomorrow. I'll tell Miles to come and get you."

"Sure, tía, I'd love to." He probably just needed a break. Not from you specifically, but in general.

"You know tú y Miles sois mi vida, ¿bien?" (you and Miles are my life, right?) It wasn’t often Rio said that, but you always remembered every time she did, and how it made you feel — like you were family. Rio was pretty much a second mother to you. It made you wonder what Miles' father would've been like.

"Well, it's getting late, and I have a lot of laundry to fold." Rio's tone had a fake sort of enthusiasm — tiredness? You couldn’t really tell with her; the woman was always upbeat. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will." It was late, you realised, and the sky outside your window was a lot darker than it had been before. "You too, tía."

“Descansa, ¿sí?” (Get some rest, yes?)

“Sí, tía.”

The call ended, and you were left facing your messages, a bittersweet feeling hugging you from behind. Right now, Miles was out with Aaron, about some contract, probably to do with boxing…

But why weren't your texts going through?

miles are you ok? Not delivered

im really proud of you Not delivered

i wish i couldve seen you live Not delivered

It wasn’t like there was much point, but…

i love you Not delivered

Maybe it was just out of habit; maybe you just missed him. Your reflection frowned at you behind the messages, thumb hovering over the power button to shut your phone off, until your phone pinged with a notification — Aaron was texting you.

Hey man

Out of town

LMK if miles breaks in

You sat up immediately, fingers floating uselessly above the keys for a moment.

sure Read at 11:24PM

are you out of town already? Read at 11:25PM

Ping!

Yeah

@ Queens

Miles was with Aaron about some “contract”... and Aaron was in Queens?

You knew Miles hadn't blocked you, or turned his phone off — he had no signal. And there was only one place in Brooklyn you could think of that had no reception, and that MIles had any reason to be in. It was also the one place you didn't want him to go to: that damn warehouse.

The place he’d spent training all those weeks — what reason did he have to be there right after finishing the tournament? Putting on your jacket, blinking back the sleepiness and collecting the fleeting remains of patience you had left, you could only hope that Miles had even a shred of common sense with him.

THWACK! THWACK! THWA— Crack!

"Mierda..." (Shit...) Miles hissed, drawing his glove away from the punching bag. His hand was paralysed for a moment, a deep, gnawing pang running through his fingers down to the rest of his arm. The tight gloves only suffocated him more, doing nothing to ease the pain as he gritted his teeth and waited for it to dull down.

Why was he even here? It was over — that Norman bastard had blown him off hours ago. It felt like a couple minutes, the words still fresh in his mind. Searing pain shot through his hand when he tried to flex his fingers, the rest of his muscles starting to ache too. This was going to hurt after the adrenaline wore off. Damn it, Morales.

The walls flashed white all of a sudden, a faint rumble of thunder interrupting the pounding of his heartbeat as he tried to straighten himself out. It was quiet, except for the sounds of the incoming storm. The playlist he was listening to had finished ages ago — your playlist. If he didn’t want to think about you, he wasn’t doing a good job of it.

Rain blasted quietly against the windows, and Miles’ eyes stung with dryness as he squeezed them shut. There was no way he'd be able to go back now, not to you, definitely not to his mom. She'd probably go on and on about how he should've taken his jacket, how he ruined his hair in the rain again, maybe how he wasted his damn time being a boxer...

It was probably fair; his mom had enough on her plate trying to support them both — especially him right now. She’d done everything in her power to make sure he got to Vegas, and he’d just left her alone again right after. But how was he meant to face her now? He was supposed to make her proud, make his dad proud, but it wasn’t like he had any pride left after he’d lost his contract. The Green Goblin had probably set the record for fastest knockout when Miles lost to him. Of course just the semi-finals weren’t enough; Norman Osborn was the big shot of boxing, and if Miles lost to some rookie in just about 15 seconds, then maybe he wasn’t worth the investment.

It didn’t make sense — nothing about The Green Goblin (or “Harry”, whatever they liked to gossip about) made sense. He’d just debuted, but didn’t even look like a boxer; he didn’t stand right, his style was inconsistent, his head movement was all over the place, but his punch had almost knocked Miles’ brain straight out of his skull. It was almost superhuman. Even with no openings, the freak of nature had forced his way through like an animal. And he was scrawny, not nearly as built as Miles at least, like he should’ve been in the weight class down. Either way, the asshole was being celebrated, and Miles was out of a contract.

And Miles had just stood there, while Norman berated him and tore Miles’ dream apart right in front of his very eyes. Maybe he’d hoped too much as an “amateur” boxer. That’s all he was, apparently — no matter how hard he worked, or what he achieved, or what he promised.

“Why should I keep you? The Vulture was destined to lose at his age.”

“Even rigged matches wouldn’t get you anywhere.”

“I mean, you’re as good at fighting as one of those street kids.”

“That’s all you were before I decided to give you a chance, no?”

The image of the Norman’s uncanny, sneering face sent his good fist reeling towards the punching bag. Should’ve pummelled his pelirojo (redhead) ass to the ground—

"Miles!"

The glove crumpled mid-air against the bag, arm going rigid. It was silent as he let out a breath through his teeth — he wasn’t hearing things, was he?

The rush was starting wearing off, his mind starting to cloud and pain faintly radiating again from his other hand. His good fist tightened inside the glove, pushed against the bag which was still and awkwardly tilted.

You’re losing focus, just punch the damn thing—

"Miles, what the hell are you doing here?"

The noise of the door shutting made him turn around, floor squeaking under his stumbling feet. It was you by the door, breathing just as heavily as him and dripping head to toe with rain, in a jacket that was way too thin for any sort of weather.

Dios... (God...) He knew he couldn’t be hallucinating that disapproving look on your face.

Rain was pattering gently against the glass as he pulled his arm away away from the bag, letting it swing in front of him before his eyes met yours.

"It's midnight, what are you..." A sharp intake of breath interrupted your words — a shiver.

"What’re you doin’ here...?" Miles asked instead through a grimace. His voice came out wrong — hoarse. Cold sweat was clinging to his skin, and his throat was dry and tightening. A mess — that’s what you were talking to right now, barely your boyfriend. All he could do was stare as the rush died down and his senses were coming back to him. The fog in his mind made it hard to speak, even harder to look at you.

"My texts and calls weren't going through— You weren't with Aaron or your mom, I just..." You sucked in another breath through your teeth; raindrops were glistening on your skin. He should’ve just stayed home, damn it. "Was just worried."

Well, he certainly looked worrying, even more so than you. Swallowing back his breathlessness wasn’t helping; it was like he’d ran a marathon with his fists. The pain from his knuckle was starting to bleed into the rest of his hand so much so that it might’ve been broken.

"'M good... You, though?" He let out a bit of a growl to clear his throat before deciding to cut straight to the chase: you’d come here in the middle of the night, in the rain, by yourself. As much as he was being an idiot right now, the amount of times he’d told you to not do any of those things, pleaded with you even, was making you look like the delirious one in his eyes. Miles was being stubborn, but he knew you were worse.

“You insane…?” he muttered, taking a step away from the bag. “Did Aaron tell you to come here or sumn’?"

"No, he was supposed to be with you," you shot back, eyes narrowing at him from under your hood before thunder bellowed from all around. The rain was growing into a loud static noise, and your voice was muffled as your expression grew more exasperated. "You came home 3 days ago and you didn't even text me. Yeah, I probably should've texted you, and I tried, but now you're here training alone again when your mom thinks you're with Aaron and—"

"You come here to scold me?" His jaw crunched a little as he tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Miles wasn’t trying to be mad at you — he was just mad in general. It just so happened to be in your direction right now.

“Huh? No, I came here because you scared the hell out of me — and Aaron told me to not let you break into his place.”

If it was supposed to be funny, the laugh he let out was anything but amused. At least Aaron wasn’t here for him to disappoint too, or get a weirdly-phrased life lesson from, or both. “Well I’m not breakin’ in, and I told you, I’m good, so I don’t get why you’re still here.”

You stepped a little closer, and Miles’ heels dug into the ground to keep himself from moving. “Isn’t it obvious? Or are you just being difficult on purpose?”

“Difficult?” he mirrored dryly, trying to push back the growing exhaustion clouding his head.

“Can you not just take a break for once? It’s over, Miles; you already won—”

“I didn’t win.” The walls echoed with his voice, words having escaped on their own. It wasn’t at you, but he didn’t know what he was mad at, resolve fading as he watched your face straighten with realisation.

“Don’t tell me that’s why you’re here…”

His fingers unconsciously clawed into the boxing glove, pain shoot through his hand. Nothing came out of his mouth, but his silence was loud — incriminating. That was the reason, right? That he didn't win?

“Kid didn’t stand a chance.” What was the point of you being here?

“A one-punch concussion — on a newbie, no less.” It was over, like you said.

“It’s a shame, I bet on him too.” Everyone had given up on him.

“You should be resting right now— you’re shaking, Miles.” So why wouldn't you?

“No ‘m not…” is all he could muster, flexing his shoulders uncomfortably. Your hand was on his arm before he could realise, and he was met with a stern look as he tried to keep his gaze from shaking too.

The velcro on his gloves crunched as you started undoing them, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop you. It’s not like he had the energy.

“You coulda’ got hurt on your way here.” The croak in his voice made him sound more hopeless than reprimanding as you slipped off the first glove, pausing half-way down his palm. His bare palm.

“…I could’ve got hurt?” Miles held back a sigh as he was made to look at his own hand. Bruised, blackened, branded with anger — it hurt more to look at it than anything. “You didn’t wear your wraps?”

The other glove slid off, revealing the fresh, festering swelling coming from his middle knuckle — the aftermath of that sickening cracking noise. You took his curled hand, easing up his middle finger and making him hiss under his breath.

“Think you can straighten it?” you muttered, gently trying to do it yourself only to lose his hand from your grip.

“’S gonna be fine,” he mumbled, eyes fixed to the side as his hand closed back up.

“It won’t if you can’t move it properly.”

“You a doctor now?”

“Nah, but your mom’s a nurse.” You carefully held his hand by palm, thumb tracing over the tender, split skin, his fingers wrapping around the side of your hand in futile protest. He’d have to bother his mom again — he didn’t even think about that. “You basically just punched yourself.”

Everything you were saying was right — it always was. He hated that fact.

“You a boxing expert too?” he thought to retort.

“Thought that was supposed to be you.” Miles’ eyes narrowed, and yours narrowed in response. “I don’t get it, baby...” you sighed, shaking your head a little as you put down the gloves to the side.

Baby. His breath almost hitched. You were dating, and it didn’t even seem like it anymore. Not after all those weeks apart. The word didn’t even feel endearing, it was condescending, like he didn’t deserve it. Maybe he was being a baby, and maybe he always had been. You were the one who always had to drag him out of this make-shift gym. Right now was no different, except…

“…Why are you still doing this?” he heard you mutter, still turned away with his hand in your grip. You didn’t even know the half of it.

“Why are you still here?” His hand tried to slip away again, but you only took it by the wrist instead, now facing him.

“Why won’t you answer my questions, Miles?” Your voice deadened into a whisper, only serving to frustrate him.

“I don’t know why you care so much.” He let out a quiet huff, staring at your hand when your grip ceased to relax.

“I care because you look like you’re about to pass out and I can’t let my boyfriend kill himself over something stupid—”

“I’m not killing myse—” A pained groan escaped his mouth as you ruthlessly pushed up his injured finger.

“Don’t push me, Miles.” Oh, you were serious.

“You’re pushin’ sumn’,” he strained through gritted teeth. “Mierda… quit it already.”

The pain tore on another moment, and he was just now realising how bad it actually hurt. All you were doing was staring at him, brows knitted together. “Cariño, please…” he whispered, a wince forming on his face.

Your hand loosened, and he let out a quiet, frustrated, somewhat relieved sigh.

Still a sucker for nice words... He didn’t say them as much as he would’ve liked.

“You need to take a time out,” you stated after a beat of silence. The expression on your face was serious again, killing any sense of tenderness you might’ve shown.

He freed his hand from your grip with the opportunity, before giving you a dubious look. “Like, for kids?”

“Like for boxers, dumbass.” Your gaze followed his retreating hand for a moment before falling back on his eyes. “But if you want me to treat you like a kid…”

“I’m good.” Another roar of thunder rang out before he could add anything, and the rain was so heavy that anything you could see from the windows became a blur.

“…You got your jacket?” you suggested, without much hope.

The idea only made Miles’ eyes squeeze shut again. A shallow exhale left him, and he tried not to let his fatigue cloud his judgement. If he kept talking stupid to you, he’d probably have worse to worry about than a broken knuckle. “You think imma go outside?”

All you could do was sigh. It seemed like the two of you would be in “time out” for a while.

🕸️🔭👾

thank you for reading part 2 soon but then again its not my fav fic in the world 💔 i rewrote this like 8 trillion times and it still wasn't clicking for me 😭 idk i just got sick of editing it again and again

this isn't as short as my usual fics because i felt like i needed to add context... I've never written an au or anything remotely original so this is just yeah... im tryna figure it out! i have . too much lore for this au

reblogs appreciated lmk if you did like it (i hope this is someone's cup of tea lmao)

catch my atsv masterlist here !

[mirrorball-leclerc]

paint the town red - part four

FERRARI (TAYLOR'S VERSION)

series masterlist

peter parker i'm going to miss you guys

sebastian vettel it's a week break peter. we'll be fine.

peter parker A WEEK IS TOO LONG! I SPENT THE LAST MONTH WITH YOU PEOPLE!

ollie bearman i'm happy to go home. away from peter. sometimes i worry for him.

bianca stark-potts you wouldn’t be the first ollie.

harley keener i bet oscar is happy to get away from peter

peter parker fuck off

tony stark language

bianca stark-potts pipe down steve rogers

charles leclerc i do not understand

harley keener the avengers were on a mission one time and steve accidentally said language when someone cursed.

peter parker I MISS YOU GUYS!

carlos sainz you just left???

tony stark we should spend the next break at seb’s farm

sebastian vettel ABSOLUTELY NOT! i don’t want you heathens on my farm!

charles leclerc aww come on. call it team bonding or something.

carlos sainz i’m sure you know all about that harley keener yeah you would know all about team bonding wouldn’t you?

tony stark what the hell does that mean?

harley keener nothing old man.

carlos sainz don’t worry about it.

peter parker YOU GUYS SHOULD COME TO NEW YORK SOON!!

charles leclerc i'd like to see my family, thank you for the invite though.

bianca stark-potts harley i swear to god you open your fat mouth and carlos will be down a race engineer.

harley keener well maybe someone and someone else shouldn’t have gotten drunk after bahrain and slept with each other.

charles leclerc it was a one time thing!

carlos sainz then what the hell was saudi?

harley keener IT HAPPENED TWICE??

bianca stark-potts three times actually

charles leclerc although that one doesn’t count because nothing happened. we did sleep on the same bed.

harley keener I’M TELLING NAT!

bianca stark-potts AND I’LL TELL EVERYONE YOU STARTED THAT RUMOR ABOUT CLINT LIVING IN THE VENTS!

charles leclerc it won’t happen again, i promise.

carlos sainz okay mr. 'i won't date her friend carlos. i promise.'

harley keener HOMIE HOPPER!!

charles leclerc fuck you keener.

harley keener of course you would want to, you already slept with my friend now you want to sleep with me. charles leclerc OH COME ON! harley keener it's okay, i know it was an inchident charles leclerc honestly just date arthur, you two are perfect for each other. fucking pricks

biancastark-potts has posted new stories

back home, new york how i've missed you.

mr.woofstappen is glad to be back home.

reunited with my favorite person michellejones

someone teach these boomers how to pose for pictures

AUSTRALIA 2024

scuderiaferrari posted new stories

quali day (carlos' version)

quali day (charles' version)

AND THAT'S ANOTHER POLE POSITION FOR CHARLES LECLERC HERE IN AUSTRALIA!!

THAT'S P1 AND P3 FOR OUR BOYS FOR QUALI!

taglist: @celesteblack08 @be-your-coffee-pot @evans-dejong @elliegrey2803 @bingewatche @arkhammaid @sunflower-golden-vol6 @lorarri @melanier7 @ironspdy @mypage-myfandoms @vellicora @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @enchantedthoughts @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @fulla02 @cowboylikemets1989 @six-call @embrosegraves @justtprachisblog @bionic-donut @rmeddar123 @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @raizelchrysanderoctavius

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

¡leclerc-s speaks! peter parker is a swiftie, you cannot convince me otherwise. let's get ready for whatever shitshow las vegas is going to be (i say this as an american. at least i live on the west coast so the schedule isn't as bad for me as it is for others. same time zone as vegas baby!!!)

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[olicitymckono]

TOGETHER

Best friends are always there for each other. Yes they will fight and not always agree on everything but if one of them is hurting, it’s the best friends job to help in an way they can. Charles Leclerc and Yn D’Marco were two such friends. They had met in Kindergarten when a young boy had pushed her off the swings. Charles had pushed the boy back and helped her up and since that day they had been inseparable. The Leclerc family had become her second family especially since her mom had disappeared when she was 2. Maria D’Marco had not been built for motherhood as she said and had decided she wanted to see the world with her hippie boyfriend Tommy. Her father Alistair was a wonderful man who loved life and especially his daughter. Having no siblings, she had quickly been adopted by Lorenzo and Arthur as their little sister. Yn had been there through all the trials and tribulations, the death of Jules and Hervé. His highs and lows and even his girlfriends. Yn was unfortunately the typical girl best friend having realised her feelings for him when he had started dating Giada. But thankfully she was not the type of girl to mope around and pine for him. It also helped that for the most part she got along great with his girlfriends. Except his latest girlfriend Alexandra. For some reason Alex had an attitude with the blonde and hated whenever Charles would spend time with his friend going so far as to worm her way into their plans and even manipulating him into cancelling them. One such occasion was about to occur. Yn’s 26th birthday was approaching and since it fell in the 3 week break between races the Leclerc boys and Yn had organised a week long trip/birthday celebration in Las Vegas. It was something Yn had been looking forward to for months. With her ever growing photography business and his races they hadn’t gotten to see each other in months and Facetiming wasn’t the same. She missed her friend terribly and so had he.

Two weeks before the trip Alex was laying on the bed watching Charles get ready for some event. She didn’t want to join him so her friends were coming over. She saw his phone ping indicating a message and she rolled her eyes seeing her name. Yn had not done anything to her other than being his friend and she was jealous of the girl because Alexandra believed he had feelings for the girl. When Charles headed into the bathroom, she grabbed his phone. “Hey Charlie. Good luck tonight. I know how much you hate these things. 😊 But Las Vegas is almost here.”

“Not if I can help it,” she thought. That night while Charles was gone she and her friends began planning to keep the two friends apart. By the time he had gotten back, she had talked or more so guilted him into a romantic getaway for the two of them to Bali. And the temptress had even made him forget about how he was going to lie to Yn.

 

“Hey Charlie,” Yn smiled as she answered the phone. “You started packing yet?”

“Hey Ynn,” he sighed. “About that.”

“Everything ok?”

“I won’t be able to make it this year.”

“What?”

“The team hasn’t done particularly well so far and they want to work over the break to improve if we stand a chance at the championship. I’m sorry Cherie. But I’ll make it up to you.”

“I understand. Sucks though.”

“I know. Believe me I would rather be spending time with you but I need to do this.” He lied to spare her feelings but he seemed to forget that he was famous and sooner or later she would find out the truth.

Three days into the trip Yn was sitting at the hotel pool, laughing at something stupid Arthur had done. Carla was sitting next to her on Instagram when she turned to Yn. “Hey, I thought Charles was working?”

Yn turned and shrugged, “That’s what he said. Why?”

“So why’s he in Bali?”

“Huh?” Carla passed her the phone. Alexandra had posted pictures of the couple enjoying the white blue beaches of Bali capturing them “Bali vaca with my ❤️.” Had Charles really lied to her? “Maybe I misunderstood.” But she knew she hadn’t. For the first time in their friendship he had lied to her.

The vacation and her birthday suddenly felt different. The others could see she was trying hard not to let Charles’ lie spoil it and so they tried to make it unforgettable.

Charles knew something was off when he face timed her for her birthday. “Happy Birthday Cherie.”

“Thanks Charlie,” she forced a smile. “How’s the training?

“Boring as hell. Wish I was there with you.” She simply nodded. “Maman can’t wait for you to get back and neither can I. I’m going to make it up to you.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“I want to Cherie. We haven’t missed each others birthday since we were 3.”

“We’ve never lied to each other either,” she mumbled soft enough that he didn’t hear.

“Are you okay Yn?” he asked concerned.

“I’m fine. Think I’m just tired from all the sun. I’m going to go lie down for a while before dinner. Thank you for calling Charlie.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, “Ill call you later ok?”

“Sure, goodbye Cherie.”

Even though she hadn’t said anything Lorenzo had decided not to let his brother get a pass. While the others were around the table he decided to give his little brother a call and excused himself. “Hey man, how’s Vegas?”

“What’s wrong with you?” Lorenzo skipped the pleasantries. As much as he loved his brother he loved Yn too, she was a little sister to him.

“Excuse me?”

“Why did you lie? You’re not in Maranello.”

Charles scoffed, “Where else would I be?”

“Bali.”

Charles’ face paled. “What?”

“We saw the pictures. Alex posted.”

Charles closed his eyes and sighed feeling guilty and realised that was why she had been so off. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologising to.”

“I’ll make it up to her.”

“You better. Since when do you lie?”

“Enzo, I just didn’t want a fight. I know Yn and Alex aren’t that close.”

“I wonder why,” Lorenzo replied sarcastically.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly how it sounds. Since when has a girl every made you lie not only to your best friend but your brothers too?”

“Lorenzo, I’m really sorry. I fucked up, I know.”

“You’re going to have to fix it.”

“I will.”

 

When the group returned from America, Charles was waiting for them and no Alex in sight. As frustrated and hurt as she was with him, Yn was happy to see Charles. The first person he reached for was her and he pulled her tightly into his arms. “Cherie, I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“You, me, my apartment tonight. We’re having a movie night.”

“I thought you’re leaving for Spa tomorrow?” she asked.

He shook his head, “I postponed my flight till Wednesday. That way we can spend time together. I missed you.”

“I missed you too Charlie.”

Unfortunately things were only going to get worse.

Arriving at Charles’ apartment that night Yn was surprised to see Alexandra there. He saw her deflate slightly trying her best to be polite as she greeted the brunette. He followed her into the kitchen as she grabbed a glass filling it with water. “She just showed up. I thought she was in Paris.”

“It’s ok Charles.”

“Are you sure? I know it was just supposed to be us.”

She placed a smile on her lips, “I’m sure.”

Throughout the evening Yn noticed how Alexandra would try to make it all about her. Every time Charles would try talking to Yn, she wasn’t even able to get to finish her answer before the other girl took his attention away. And it was beginning to piss Yn off.

Before the movie was even done, Yn had had enough. Alexandra had become increasingly touchy with her boyfriend and Yn happened to notice a moment when it was painfully obvious that the girl had placed her hand into his shorts. He had unknowing let out a soft moan and Yn saw how Alexandra had looked at her with a smirk. Yn was done. She silently grabbed her bag and got up.

“Where are you going?” Alexandra asked acting dumb. Charles had opened his eyes and adjusted himself looking at his friend in concern.

“I forgot I have an early start tomorrow. But you have fun.” She didn’t wait for a answer and headed for the door. She made it to the elevator when he reached her.

“Why are you leaving?”

She looked at him disappointment in her eyes. “You obviously have better things to do.”

“Why do you not like her?”

“This has nothing to do with Alexandra.”

“Really?” he asked sarcastically. “Then why leave.”

“Kinda awkward when you two are practically wanting to fuck each other right there.”

“I’ll tell her to cool it.”

She shook her head, “Don’t worry about it.” She hit the button waiting for the elevator to open.

“Why do you do this?”

“Do what Charles?”

“Make her feel so uncomfortable?”

“I told you this isn’t about her!”

“Right, so you’re not pissed because I choose to spend my break with MY girlfriend!”

“I’m pissed because you LIED! If you wanted to be with her then you should have said that!”

“You are so suffocating!”

Yn felt her heart break and he could see in her eyes he had hurt her and had gone too far. Hell he didn’t even mean what he said, but as he opened his mouth to apologise Alexandra called from his door about a phone call. The elevator doors opened and she climbed in pushing the ground floor button. She waited for the doors to close before letting the tears fall.

“Cherie I’m sorry!”

“I didn’t mean it!”

“Please pick up.”

 

A few weeks had passed and Yn had not spoken to Charles or even replied to his messages. Their friends knew something was wrong even some of the fans were picking up on something. Charles was not himself and Yn who was a regular face in the paddock hadn’t been to any races since the break. She no longer commented or liked his posts. No more good luck messages before races, no more messages at all. He missed her. It was hard for her too. When he had a bad race she wanted to message him, but she didn’t. She missed her friend so much but she couldn’t forget what he had said. She had been there for him through everything; Jules, his father, when Ferrari let him down. Even when she had needed her friend, like when she had caught her ex boyfriend in bed with someone else, she pushed it aside because he had needed her. But she was suffocating him!

She put all her time and energy into her little photography business and it was after a photoshoot that she ran into David. Well actually he ran into her, literally.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” He rushed to help her get up.

“It’s ok. I should have looked where I was going.”

“No it’s my fault. Is anything broken?”

She shook her head, “Doesn’t look like it.” She noticed to he had spilt coffee all over himself. “Seems like your shirt got the brunt.”

“Huh?” She pointed at his shirt. “Oh, I didn’t even realise.”

“Can I buy you another?” she really did feel bad.

“You don’t have to do that. But I won’t say no. I’m David.”

“Yn.”

David turned out to be a really nice guy. He was from South Africa and was a professional cricket player. Yn had never heard about the sport but could tell how passionate he was. They got along so well and really enjoyed each others company that they spent the rest of the day talking. As day entered night, David asked if she would like to have dinner with him and she found herself accepting happily.

Coming home one evening after having been on another date, Yn found Charles waiting at her apartment door. He looked so sad and lost. “Hi.”

“What do you want Charles?”

“Can I come in?”

“Fine.” She heard him sigh in relief as she unlocked her door and let them in.

“You look pretty Cherie.”

She pulled off her heels and headed for her room. She quickly changed out of her dress into some sweats and a hoodie. Walking back into the kitchen she found Charles making her some tea. She opened a cupboard and pulled out some Macaroons before going to sit on the balcony. Charles joined her a few minutes later.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine thanks. You?”

“Been better. I miss you.”

“What is it that you want Charles?”

“A chance to make it up to you. I know I screwed up and I’m so sorry. I never meant it.”

She nodded sadly. “Doesn’t change the fact that you said it.”

“I never meant to hurt you Belle. Never you.”

“I miss you too Charlie. But you hurt me, twice.”

He took her hand in his and slowly began to run his thumb across her skin. “I can’t take away what I said. But I just want to prove to you that I’m sorry.”

“When my mom left, I thought it was my fault. Like I was too needy. I promised myself that I wouldn’t be like that with the people I love. That I would make sure they were ok. If me being there for you is suffocating I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no your not suffocating. I think I was projecting. Alexandra just showed up that night and I was already frustrated because it was supposed to be just you and me. I was really looking forward to it. But I’m weak. She basically threatened to with hold sex if she couldn’t join.”

“So you caved?”

He nodded. “Please forgive me?”

“You have to earn it.” But she said that with a smile.

For several weeks things seemed like they were back to normal and friends and fans alike were happy. The only one who wasn’t was Alexandra. Unfortunately for her she was stuck in Paris for a while. David had to return to South Africa for a few games and he had asked Yn to come with him. As her job wasn’t office bound and she had no scheduled jobs she agreed. Charles wasn’t happy about it though. Ever since he had met David, he had felt different. Yn had dated before but other then Adrian; her ex; she had never been serious about a guy. He had liked Adrian but he wasn’t mad that she had broken up with him. But something was different this time. Seeing her happy and possibly falling in love with this guy didn’t sit right with Charles. He just didn’t know why. She was his best friend, that was all right? A few nights before they left for South Africa, David had suggested a double date with Charles and Alexandra. He knew that Yn wasn’t a fan of hers but he also knew how important Charles was to her and that they wouldn’t be seeing each other for a while. It was at dinner that Charles realised that he was in love with his best friend and that all the fights he had with Alexandra was because she knew it. He remembered one night they were in the middle of sex and he had accidentally called her Yn. At the time he thought it was because he had spent the day with his friend but Alexandra had lashed out at him convinced he was in love with her. He had denied it then but now he knew it was true. Those weeks when she hadn’t spoken to him, had been the most pain he had ever felt. And now the thought of her leaving even if just for a few weeks clawed at his heart. Worse was the feeling he got when he had to watch David touch her, kiss her and make her smile. He wanted to be the one to do that. Hearing her laugh at something he said drew Charles out of his thoughts. He made up his mind on what he was going to do, he just hoped he didn’t end up losing her for good.

She had just kissed David good night and run a hot bubble bath when there was a knock on her door. She frowned slightly wondering if he had forgotten something. She was a little shocked to see her friend standing there. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

She moved aside to let him in. “I was just about to take a bath.”

“I’m sorry, I need to talk to you about something.”

She could tell it must be something important, “Ok, let me just change quick. Can you put the kettle on?”

He nodded.

“Charles?” she called a few seconds later.

“Yeah?”

“Can you help me please?” she leaned her head out the door.

“Sure,” he headed into the room. “What’s wrong?”

“The damn zipper is stuck.”

He chuckled, “Turn around Belle.”

Turning around she moves her hair onto her shoulder allowing him to grab the zip. It was a bit stuck but with some effort he was able to get it to move. Problem was the more he moved the zip down the more his fingers trailed along her skin. It was having an effect on him and by the sound of her breathe intake he knew she was too. Without thinking he moved his hand across her back into the fabric stopping against her bare waist, while at the same time placing his lips against one of her shoulders after he moved the strap with his other hand.

“Charles?”

“Mhmm,” he murmured as he moved his lips across her throat.

“What are you doing?” She asked breathy.

“I want you.”

She turned around causing his hand to slip out. “What?”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “I love you.” He pressed his lips against hers but she didn’t respond except to pull away.

“I’m sorry?” she sat down on her bed where he joined her.

“I love you.”

“I love you too Charlie but what just happened?”

He shook his head, “I’m in love with you.”

Her eyes widen, “You’re in.....what?”

He brushed a strand of hair from her face, “I’m in love with you Belle.”

“Since when?”

“A while. Forever. I was just blind. But Alex knew. That’s why she’s been acting the way she has. She’s jealous.”

“Why now?”

“I wasn’t 100 percent sure until tonight.”

“Nothing happened tonight.”

“I watched you with him.”

“David?”

He nodded, “Its supposed to be me. I’m supposed to be the one who makes you happy.”

“Charlie, you’re my best friend. You do make me happy.”

“Not in everyway. Yn I want to spend my life with you not just as you’re best friend.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“Do you know why none of my relationships last?” she shook her head. “Neither did I. Not till I realised it was because they were not you.”

“Charlie,”

“Yn the whole night I have been going over my thoughts, why I hate seeing you with someone else, why Alexandra is so jealous, why it was your name on my lips in my dreams and that night.”

“What night?” she asked furrowing her brow in confusion.

He sighed, “A couple nights before I lied about Maranello, Alex and I were......having sex.”

“Ok and?”

“I called her you.”

“You called Alex Yn?”

“Yes. I didn’t realise it in the moment but she suddenly got mad and we started arguing. I guess that’s why I agreed to go to Bali. I felt guilty.”

She stood up. “I’m supposed to be leaving in a few days. With David, my boyfriend.”

“Don’t go.” He stood up and took her hand pulling her close. “Belle please I know I don’t deserve it but give me a chance?” He drew her into a kiss and she knew she was in trouble. Separating their lips he placed his head gently against hers. “Tell me you feel nothing and I’ll walk away.” She couldn’t respond, she was so conflicted. When she didn’t answer him he lifted his head and kissed her cheek. “I love you Yn never forget that.”

He walked out her room and headed for the door but just as he reached for the handle she was behind him and grabbing his hand. “I love you too Charlie.” This time she was the one to pull him into a kiss and they both knew this was were they belonged, together.

 Author Note: Hi guys I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for all the love on my Max story, Verstappen's Heart. It means alot.

Please feel free to send any requests for your favourite drivers ❤️

[respectthepetty]

PETTY HI OMG

I wanna ask, what do you mean when a character is a fake *insert colour*? Like you said wandee is a fake blue. What does that mean? And also, according to that logic, he's wearing that blue during that first kiss and I dunno how to feel about that...

@cryingoverweiying, what I mean when I state a character has a "fake color" is that I'm crazy, and I'm quickly losing my mind over fictional characters. But to give you some examples before I get into Wandee's fake blue, I will offer Vegas from KinnPorsche and Jae Young from Semantic Error.

Vegas looks green. He pretends to be a chill dude who is easy going and down-to-earth in front of the main family's bodyguards. Jae Young looks red. He pretends to be an aggressive rascal so he can work Sang Woo's nerves. But we know those are LIES!

Vegas is actually a red devil who has an affinity for torturing people, and Jae Young is really a chill green dude which is why he wasn't showing up for class in the first place. This is why I call their initial colors fake.

I've written a little bit about this in regards to characters changing their colors throughout a series.

So when I write that I believe Dee's blue is a fake color, I mean that I don't think it represents him as a character, and that Dee is pretending to be blue.

Blue Boys are calm, loyal, and passive aka all the things Dee was to Ter for eight years while being in love with him.

But I think Dee was faking it for love. I think the colors are telling us that Dee is actually a Purple Prince who is immature and emotional,

but also encouraging and compassionate.

Because the day after being rejected by Ter and sleeping with Yak, Dee showed up to work in purple.

And he just keeps getting more purple. Purpler? No that's not a word. You understand me though!

But it only happens the more he spends time with Yak.

Since Yak seems to have unleashed Dee's true nature of being childish and arrogant, which are things he never allowed Ter to see.

All these traits would seem negative (emotional, immature, arrogant, childish), but once again, this is only part of who Dee is, and he never actually showed that to the man he was in love with, for eight years! He hid parts of himself behind this fake blue to impress Ter, but with Yak, he can just be himself.

And it's because Yak was his yellow egotistical and energetic self around Dee from the start.

So his openness is contagious.

But this has caused a problem because I don't think Dee is the only one faking a color anymore in this fake relationship.

I wrote before that as much as Yak was picking up Ohm's style to impress Taem, Dee was actually the one to pick out the outfits and the color aligns with Dee's first love.

Brown Boys are wise, stable, and predictable. In fact, they are like the more solid version of Blue Boys.

So it makes sense for a Blue Boy to be with a Brown Boy.

They'd be super stable. They'd be totally truthful. They'd be really reliable. They'd be perfectly predictable. But does that sound like these two?

NO! THEY ARE CHAOTIC LYING TRASH PANDAS!

So I am praying that we see these two not only embrace their true colors once again like Vegas and Jae Young, but for them to embrace the other's color as well, and the only way to do that is through a good old fashion color exchange.

I don't want to see Yak in this fake ass blue or Dee in this light yellow or brown.

I want Yak in purple and Dee in bright yellow because even though I already know it's love since the pink keeps showing up,

I need the colors to tell me there's nothing fake about them or the love they have for each other.

*fingers crossed*

[veliseraptor]

Pete was hungry.

Of course he was hungry; he hadn’t had any blood for days. He wasn’t even sure exactly how long it had been, without the reference of regular sleep. All he knew was that it’d been a while, long enough that consciousness was starting to get blurry and he was having a hard time thinking of anything else past the need, the hunger. 

He hadn’t been this hungry in a long time. Definitely not since he’d started working for the Theerapanyakuls. It took him back, in a bad way. 

He was supposed to be dead. He’d expected to be dead. He didn’t understand why he wasn’t.

Pete’s eyesight was sharp enough to see the door move before it opened and he closed his eyes and went limp, hoping to look unconscious. Footsteps on the floor and he could sense it even from here: fresh blood. Living flesh. His mouth watered and his fangs lengthened involuntarily, all his thoughts washing out to a red, desperate haze of want. All his control burning away like he would in sunlight.

“Hello again,” said Vegas’s voice. “How’s my pet?”

Pete tried not to move. Tried not to twitch. He imagined getting free and sinking his fangs into Vegas’s neck and even now flinched away from the idea of hurting, biting, one of the family. 

“Stop pretending,” Vegas said. “I know you’re awake.”

Pete pressed his cracking lips together and opened his eyes a sliver. Vegas was lounging on the bed, leaning back on his hands. His shirt was unbuttoned as usual, and Pete’s gaze zeroed in on his exposed throat, the motion as his heart pumped hot blood through the artery there. He could hear Vegas’s heart beating, or maybe that was just the roaring of hunger in his own ears.

Vegas just looked at him, lips curling into a mocking smile. He didn’t seem scared, or concerned, or any of the things most humans might feel in a small room with a hungry vampire on the verge of losing control. 

Vegas stood and moved closer. Pete tensed, body bracing for pain even as it screamed at him to attack. 

Vegas clicked his tongue. “You’re thirsty, aren’t you,” he said. He leaned forward and Pete clamped his mouth shut before he could lick his lips. “Poor boy,” Vegas went on. “So deprived.”

Just kill me already, Pete thought, but he didn’t say it. He’d started to wonder if Vegas was planning on starving him to death. It would take a long time. 

That’d be a good thing if he’d been hoping for rescue, but nobody was coming for him. 

Vegas reached out (the fine veins in his wrist, right there) and caught Pete’s chin, grasping it almost gently and turning his head back and forth like he was trying to find his best angle. 

“I could fix that,” Vegas said. 

Please, howled the increasingly animal part of Pete, but he had enough of himself left to recognize that anything Vegas offered him was going to be poison somehow. It was just so hard to think, to remember that in the face of the wanting.

“Not interested?” Vegas said. “Let’s see if I can change your mind.”

He left the room again and came back with a glass, a towel, and a knife. He sat down on the floor leaning against the bed, set the glass down next to him, held out one arm, and clenched his hand into a fist a few times. 

Then he took the knife and sliced into his own arm at the elbow. 

Shallow, but the veins ran close enough to the surface that it started bleeding fast; Vegas grabbed for the glass and tipped his arm so the blood started to dribble into it. His eyes stayed on Pete and Pete’s eyes zeroed in on the blood. He could smell it from here, sharp and tantalizing, and Pete jerked involuntarily against his bonds.

“Oh,” Vegas said, smile filled with vicious satisfaction. “You are interested.”

Yes. Yes. Yes. Blood dripped into the glass, spattering the sides. It welled up bright, fresh red in the crook of Vegas’s arm. Pete was so hungry.

“Should I ask what you’ll give me for it?” Vegas asked. His voice was casual, just the slightest edge of mockery on it. 

“Nothing,” Pete croaked. 

“Mm,” Vegas said. “Stubborn.” There was a finger’s width of blood in the glass now. Vegas’s eyes were fixed on Pete, nailing him to the floor. 

“I don’t want it,” Pete lied. Vegas laughed.

“That’s weak,” he said. “You don’t really expect me to believe it, do you? I know you’re hungry. I can see it. If you got loose right now would you even be able to stop yourself from draining me?”

Maybe. Pete had good self control. It felt shaky right now, though. 

Vegas bent and straightened his arm, refreshing the flow of blood. The smell was stronger now, brighter. Pete wondered how it would taste. He’d never had blood like this, almost straight from the vein. And Vegas just watched him with that smug, vicious little smile. 

“Look at you,” he said. “Good Pete, Tankhun’s loyal little dog, and when it comes down to it you’re just another blood-addicted animal.”

Shame washed through Pete but it couldn’t get much of a purchase when it was set against the hunger, mindless and terrible. He could feel himself starting to tremble with it.

Vegas set down the glass and picked up the towel, pressing it to the wound he’d made. He held it there, eyes still on Pete. Pete’s hands curled into fists and he had to focus to relax them. 

When Vegas pulled the towel away the bleeding had slowed to a trickle. He picked up the glass and swirled the blood inside around like it was wine, then pushed himself to his feet and sauntered over to Pete. The smell of blood got even stronger and Pete just managed to keep himself from lunging toward it. 

“Here,” Vegas said, voice low. “Let me give you a taste.”

Pete should have said no. Should have tried to resist. It was almost a relief that there wasn’t much he could do to stop Vegas from putting the glass to his mouth and tipping it, blood lapping at his dry, cracked lips, still warm. Pete’s eyes rolled back in his head at the first taste, and he didn’t know if the intensity was for how long he’d gone without or because of how fresh the blood was. 

Then blood filled his mouth too fast and he was choking, his head jerking back so it spilled down his chin and over his chest, dripping onto the floor. The glass pulled away and Pete let out an involuntary sound of loss before he could bite it back, his mouth and nose still full of the smell of taste and smell. 

There was a strange mix of expressions on Vegas’s face: satisfaction and scorn and a touch of disgust. 

“What a mess,” he said. “Look at all that wasted blood.” Pete stared at him, dizzy and embarrassed and furious. And still hungry, appetite barely touched by the little he’d managed to swallow.

“Still,” Vegas said after a couple seconds of silence. “Maybe we’ll do this again later. If you’re good.”

Then Pete was alone again. The blood itched as it dried.

[wardenparker]

In the Still of the Night, ch 9

Zach Wellison x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Grown up and looking to the future, Zach Wellison and bunkmate Shane Morrissey are working for a new cruise line that offers its guests a vintage Vegas experience on the Mediterranean. The romantic atmosphere is rubbing off on many of the crew members, and Zach finds himself to be no exception when he meets the beautiful lead singer of Shane's band.

But being wrapped in the seductive arms of an atmospheric cruise is a far cry from real life. How will their relationship fare on dry land? They can't know unless they try.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 9.7k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, cooking, eating, discussion of clothing/costumes. Mentions of prison time served, mentions of past homelessness.* Family death, grief, unexpected complications, family secrets, mentions of military service, loss/death, surprises around every corner. Summary: Making a stop at the local food pantry on your way to the soulmate chapel leads to a surprising revelation, and it is only the first of many for this day. Notes: I apologize for the extra delay! It appears my flare up was not done flaring, but I didn't want to make everyone wait a whole extra week for this chapter. Happy reading!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8

“It will only take a few minutes.” Zach promises. “And it’s on the way.” He feels strange to be arriving to the food bank dressed in the immaculate suit that had once belonged to your grandfather. One of the half-dozen that your grandmother had saved, and he honestly wonders if it had been his wedding suit. It fits so well with the dress you are wearing.

"I don't mind at all." He's taken the lead in driving around over the last few days, and when he pulls into the parking lot of the church that runs the local food bank you're just happy and starry-eyed in the front seat next to him. Your grandmother's dress only needed a few pins to fit perfectly, and Zach is maybe an inch or two taller than your grandfather was based on the way the suit fits – but not different enough for him to be uncomfortable or for him to look anything over than devastatingly handsome.

He gives you a brilliant smile and leans over to kiss you. “Want to stay here?” He asks. “I can get everything out.”

“No, no, I want to help.” This is something that means a lot to both of you, and if you get to show off the fact that you’re obviously wearing a wedding dress? Well…you’ll be very happy to tell anyone who asks why.

He chuckles. “Don’t get your dress dirty.” He warns before opening the door to the SUV to hop out and go around back to open the trunk. There’s several boxes and the cooler with all the cold things. A good donation haul that can hopefully put some food in someone in need’s home.

“I won’t!” The dress, or the nearly convenient blue flats that you wore today that are now your something blue. You stack up two of the smaller boxes in your arms and trot up to the side entrance of the church at Zach’s side.

Zach had called first, to make sure they were accepting donations, so the doors open quickly. The preacher obviously watching out for the donation.

"You must be Mr. Wellison." The preacher opens the door wide to let you in and stops short when he sees you slightly behind your now fiancé. "Bunny! What a surprise." And all at once he understands. "These...these donations must be coming from your grandmother's house. I'm so very sorry for your loss, dear."

"Thank you, Reverend Michaels." The best you can offer is a small, polite smile. It doesn't seem right to be beaming with joy that you're about to marry your soulmate when someone offers their condolences. "But, yes. We thought that these would make a good addition to the pantry, especially since it's not the usual time of year for donations. There are a few more boxes in the car outside."

“Absolutely.” He nods, “I’ve got some extra hands here.” He turns back into the church. “Darrel! Come lend a hand, son.”

It figures.

It absolutely figures.

The spare set of hands the reverend has to offer is none other than your ex-boyfriend.

Darrel comes in from the other room with a smile on his face that drops the second he sees you and Zach – and his expression says it all.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got it.” Zach insists. Although he knows that Darrel hasn’t pressed any farther since you’ve talked to him, he doesn’t like the idea of taking anything from him, including help to donate food.

"It's okay." Darrel's head hangs a little, but he dusts off his hands and motions toward the door. "More hands make light work. It...looks like you're on your way somewhere, anyway."

“We are.” Zach’s jaw clenches slightly, but he doesn’t refuse his help a second time, it would be rude and the reverend would notice. He’s starting to think that Darrel is either the sweetest man in history, or he’s somehow bugged you to find out where you are. He wants to believe the latter rather than the first option.

"We're just dropping a few boxes off." You explain needlessly, and head rather immediately for the door.

"Headed to Windrixville?" Darrel guesses, shoving his hands in his pockets as he follows you out the door.

Zach pauses and looks over at you. Wanting to tell him yes, but it’s not his place.

He's right. It is up to you. Which is why you roll your shoulders back and try to find that poise you're somehow capable of onstage, even in the dirt parking lot of the church. "We're getting married," you tell him honestly. There's no point in being coy – he already guessed.

“Wow, uh, congratulations.” He offers, biting his lip before he offers you a smile that might not be completely genuine, but it’s not mocking or brittle.

"Thank you." While you're very aware that it's not what he wanted to hear out of your mouth, and you don't really want to hurt anybody, the fact is that ending this whole confusion once and for all is going to be a good thing. "I'm sorry about whatever my parents might have said, Darry, but this is it for me. Zach is it for me. And I don't say that lightly."

“He’s your soulmate.” Darrel acknowledges. “Your parents were always against soulmate matches, but- I know that you aren’t.” He swallows and shuffles slightly before moving to grab a box out from the back of the SUV. “Well, the quicker we get this unloaded, the sooner you can get married.”

"We appreciate the help." It's even more awkward than you thought it would be, and for a second all you can think to do is nod your head and reach for the cooler in the trunk.

“Babe, let me get that.” Zach tuts. “Here, take this smaller box, I don’t want you to ruin your dress.”

"Still tryin' to do more than you need to, Bun?" Darrel almost laughs as he shakes his head and looks to Zach. "One day you're gonna wake up to your whole house being redecorated, and she'll do it with a broken arm or something."

“I don’t doubt it.” Zach appreciates the spirit of the comment, and relaxes slightly. “Only reason our suite hasn’t been redecorated is because all the furniture is built in or bolted down.”

“Cruise ship,” you explain, when Darrel looks like he’s about to get a spinning cursor on his forehead trying to wrack his brain for the full context of Zach’s comment. “We’re working on a cruise ship.”

“Right.” Darrel laughs at himself, shaking his head. “I guess I had no idea they bolt down the furniture. But that makes sense.”

“It would make rough seas a bitch.” Zach admits. “Not showing up for work because you got knocked out when the boat rocked.”

“I can’t even imagine.” Darrel admits. He grabs the largest box from the trunk and tucks it up against himself carefully. Safely. “Furthest I’ve ever gone from home is Dallas or maybe Texarkana.”

Zach can’t relate. “I’ve been a lot of places.” He admits as he hefts the cooler up after taking it away from you. “Some I didn’t want to be and never wish to see again.”

“What branch?” Darrel knows that sentiment all too well from his old friends.

“Marines.” He knows that you broke up with Darrel before his tattoo, so he’s not bothered by the question. “Baghdad, Fallujah.”

Darrel shifts the box in his hands and offers one outstretched hand to Zach in all sincerity. “Thank you for your service.”

It’s surprising, so much so that he nearly drops the cooler instead of setting it down inside so he can take the man’s hand. It’s been a long time since he’s been thanked and probably the first time since coming back that he doesn’t mind it. “I’m not good at this kind of thing.” He admits sheepishly. “So, uh, yeah.”

“It’s not an easy thing to do.” Darrel acknowledges. “I lost my kid brother in Fallujah.” His eyes shift to you momentarily, knowing your parents would have told you when it happened, before he looks back at Zach. “Life is complicated. And not usually what you expect. But…it seems like things are looking out okay for you now.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Zach murmurs quietly. “I understand completely, even if they weren’t my brothers by blood, I miss every damn one of them everyday.”

You hang back, as surprised as either of the guys are for this encounter but trying to give the whole situation a chance to be less awkward. It seems like they might actually be on a path to civility, and you would love for this trip to end on a positive note. Darrel and Zach being on polite terms would be a hugely positive note.

“It was difficult, but we got his letter a few weeks later.” Darrel tells him quietly. “The guy who was with him when he died mailed it to us.”

“Robby was a good kid.” You offer, knowing that it would have been a strain on the entire family to lose their middle son. Your parents had talked about it like losing a pillar of the community.

“Robby???” Zach looks bewildered and slightly nauseas. “Robert Tyler Rodriguez?” He asks softly, praying that it’s not the same person.

Darrel pales instantly, freezing in his tracks as the puzzle pieces in his mind fall into place. He knew the name Wellison sounded familiar but he just thought maybe it was a client whose house he had worked on or the name of some long-forgotten classmate.

But no. The name Wellison had been printed in block letters on the letter that told his family that their bravest son was never coming home again. He wants to be angry. He wants to be furious. But all he can feel is the ring of hollow sadness in his chest that is left after losing his brother...and a thick feeling of something emotional that has him setting down the box on the stairs up to the side door of the church. "You're the one who sent us the letter," he says finally, when he remembers to speak again.

“Yes.” He had thought it was a fucking coincidence, plenty of people live in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Plenty of people have the last name Rodriguez. Robby had called his brother ‘Dee’. “You’re Dee.” He swallows harshly and wishes he was anywhere else but here. Ready for the onslaught of blame and accusations. After hand delivering Tommy Mansfield’s letter and accompany his body home, being slapped and screamed at for being the lone survivor, he couldn’t come to Robby’s home. Already sinking into a depression that nearly made him eat a bullet, he had just mailed the letter off with his own written note, saying he was sorry.

For the second time today, Darrel Rodriguez holds his hand out to the man who has everything he ever wanted for himself. And for the second time, there is nothing but sincerity behind the gesture. "Thank you for writing that letter," he intones, quiet and serious but no less true. "It couldn't have been easy. And we appreciated getting something other than a paper-pusher on our doorstep to tell us the news."

Zach frowns, staring down at the offered hand and then back up to Darrel’s somber eyes. He cautiously takes the hand again. “You don’t— blame me?” He asks, his voice low and almost disbelieving.

"I admit, it was tempting. The letter came and..." he shrugs slightly, shaking Zach's hand firmly once more. "Grief is sticky. But Robby–" His voice waivers for a second and he takes a breath. "My brother knew what he was signing up for, when he joined up. He knew the risks and the responsibilities. So while it might be cathartic, to wrap up all the blame and put it on your shoulders–" He glances at you and you know in your gut he isn't just talking about Robby, but Darrel goes on. "That wouldn't be fair. You're not responsible for the fate of the whole world. Other people make choices, too."

“I miss him every day.” Zach chokes out. “Like I know you must- only more so.” He would never compare his grief to losing his friends and brothers in arms to losing a true brother. “I still have nightmares about it. I miss them all so fucking much.”

"He wrote to us about his brothers." Darrel admits. Now that they're standing face to face, he has to admit the hand of fate has bashed in his door rather thoroughly. "It's– I didn't think I'd ever actually meet one of them. After everything. Well– you know."

“I’m the only one that survived.” A fact that he has tremendous guilt over every single day. Since getting back on his feet, meeting you, he has vowed to make sure that it’s a life well worth the sacrifice. He still doesn’t know why it was him that made it home, but he doesn’t hide away from it anymore.

“Well…” Darrel clears his throat gently and gestures to you. There’s more than a time of sadness in his voice but he still tries to mask it. “You had something important to come back for.”

Zach understands his meaning and gives him a solemn nod. “Yes I did.” He agrees.

If you're honest, this unexpected connection is something of a relief. Darrel isn't the enemy, after all. He was misled by your parents and has been gracious since meeting Zach. It's awkward, sure, but not ill intentioned. "I'm glad you guys got a chance to talk," you tell them, and are very happy to mean it.

“I owe you both an apology.” Darrel murmurs softly, glancing between the two of you. Zach shakes his head. “You don’t owe me anything.” He promises, knowing that he can’t blame the man he has learned so much about from his younger brother. He had been told he was a good man, and he’s glad to learn that is true. He might have been a little overeager in his plans, but he was accepting the situation now.

"The people who owe an apology are my parents." And you will be insisting that they give it.

“Babe.” Zach shakes his head. “I don’t think they will think they’ve done anything wrong.”

The fact that he's right is frankly upsetting, but you'll wrangle with that later. On a day when you aren't looking forward to marrying your damn soulmate. Instead of pressing it, you nod a little. "My parents and I have a little work to do between us, I think. But that's...that's not something to dwell on today." It does impact the fact that you're essentially eloping, but again...that is a thought for a different day.

“No, today is for us.” He agrees, shuffling slightly and moving over to your side. “Are you ready?” He asks, the boxes donated and the air cleared between you and Darrel it seems.

"Absolutely." The one thing in this life that you're absolutely certain of is Zach. No hesitations. So the question of whether or not you are ready to marry him is unnecessary.

Zach takes your hand and starts to turn away. Not sure what else to say to Darrel, but the other man surprises everyone, even himself. “Do you want a witness?” He blurts out.

“What?” You turn around in confusion, certain you must have heard him wrong.

Instead of denying that he said anything, he straightens his shoulders and repeats himself. “Do you want a witness?” He asks again.

"I–" You glance over at Zach, who looks just as startled as you do. "I mean...it would be helpful..."

“Why would you want to do that?” Zach asks seriously. “I know you have deep feelings for her. It- it doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Because—” Darrel pushes out the word and shoves his hands in his pockets. Zach is right. He does have deep feelings for you. He has for years. But pining doesn’t make him a bad guy. “All I ever wanted was for her — for you — to be happy.” He tells both of you. “You folks made it seem like you weren’t. You were still trying to find your way, and like you might come home any time. But you—” If he jams his fingers into his pockets anymore he’s gonna break a finger. “You obviously love your life. And your guy. And if I’m gonna claim that all I ever wanted was your happiness? Then I gotta step up and acknowledge that that means it might not be here with me.”

It’s a very eye-opening outlook and Zach knows immediately where Robby got his sunny, upbeat attitude. “Your brother and I promised we would stand up for each other when we found our soulmates.” He tells him. “I think- it’s….a way to honor him and I would be honored if you would. But it’s not just my decision.” He looks over at you. “What do you want, baby?”

A hell of a lot of thoughts are running through your head at the moment, if you’re honest with yourself, but not the least of them is relief. And some kind of gratitude. This whole issue with your parents can be put to bed with Darrel supporting your marriage, and he deserves to be able to move on after carrying a torch for you for so long. A part of you hopes that this could be that for him. And a way to honor his brother, to boot. “I think it would be nice to bury any grievances,” you admit, looking at both men. “And to have a witness that has a real connection to our pasts.”

“Let me say goodbye to the Reverend and I’ll be ready to go.” He frowns for a moment before looking down at his jeans and work jacket. “I’ll need to change though. Make sure that it’s understood that I support this.”

“Do you still keep a change in your truck?” You ask, figuring that would be easiest. “Windrixville isn’t far. I’ll check what time the chapel closes.”

“No, but I had just picked up my suit from the cleaners.” He chuckles, shaking his head at the irony. “Let me grab it and change. Although I’ll be in my work boots.”

“Doesn’t matter to us.” He could’ve just come along in jeans and it would be the gesture that mattered most. “Take your time.”

“I’ll be quick.” He nods towards both of you and disappears out the door to grab the plastic covered suit out of the back of the truck. It might not seem like the best idea to some, but he knows that it would send a clear message to your parents.

“Well…this stop turned out…unexpectedly.” You turn into Zach’s side and tilt your head to look up at him. “You okay, baby?”

“I never put it together.” He admits sheepishly, shaking his head. “Robby talked about his family a lot.” He murmurs. “I— I came so close to coming out here, but after the first time….” He trails off, knowing you would understand.

“It was still so fresh back then.” With one hand, you gently rub his back. “Grief settles over time. It doesn’t go away, but it’s less harsh. Less angry.”

“I wonder if that’s how we were supposed to meet?” He wonders softly. “He had invited me back to Oklahoma to visit when we came back on leave.”

“Oh…” The realization makes you sag a little. “Maybe. I did…back then I used to come home for thanksgiving every year.”

“He had told me that his family used to do a huge BBQ every year. Something about an entire cow.” He chuckles. “Said I would love it.”

"They do it every year." You nod and blow out a long, slow breath. "The day after Thanksgiving. This great big, day-long thing. People pop in and out all day as they come back from or leave to go Black Friday shopping. His Dad loves it, it's–" Instinct as you hugging Zach tighter, like you're hanging on to that past chance meeting that never happened. "We always used to go for the afternoon. My mom makes this mashed potato casserole that everybody always goes nuts for." It's how you would have met. Years ago. Zach would never have been through the terrors and the hardships of being alone with no place to go, and you wouldn't have been through your own bullshit out in New York. You would have been together.

“Isn’t it amazing how a few seemingly inconsequential decisions completely change the trajectory of your life?” He asks, knowing you are feeling the same.

"It's...weirdly discouraging and encouraging." The feeling is a little disorienting, if you're honest. "Knowing that things will always end up where they're supposed to, but that the journey might be pretty fucked up along the way."

He hums, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “We’ve had a rough road, but it’s getting better.” He admits. “Better now that we are together.”

******

The little chapel in Windrixville is built on the top of a hill where an old church burned down back in the 60s. The space around it is manicured now instead of just being a wide-open field, and soulmates who choose to get married here in a less formal ceremony have the chance to take a few pictures in the chapel's flower garden. Zach pulls the rental car into the mostly empty parking lot and Darrel's truck parks right on the other side.

"Are you ready to do this?" He asks after shutting off the engine. He knows that you are protected legally, the pre-nup already signed and filed, but he wants to make sure that this - done this way - is what you truly want.

"Absolutely." You take his hand and lean across the center console to give him a kiss. "I wanted to be married to you. To start that next step together."

“Are you sure you don’t want the entire big thing?” He asks, smiling softly.

"Do you?" It's worth making sure that he's not just doing this for you. That he isn't missing out on something he's dreamt of just because you don't care about skipping the expense.

“Baby, I have no family but you.” He reminds you softly. “All that matters is that you and I are together.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” You’ll remind him later on that he had so many people who love him as well as a kitchen full of staff who admire the hell out of him. For now, you have a wedding to focus on.

“What indeed?” He grins and notices that Darrel has climbed out of his truck and is standing in front of it, doing something on his phone.

"Everything good?" You ask, slipping out of the SUV and back into Zach's side. Darrel's face is drawn in concentration.

“Yeah.” He sighs and slips the phone into his front jacket pocket. “Ranch stuff.” He tells you. “My parents are talking about selling.” He’s been trying to change their minds, but the decision is ultimately theirs.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry." Your shoulders drop again, knowing that must be devastating for him. Darrel always loved the ranch so much.

“It’s okay.” He shakes his head. “This isn’t the time to worry about what might happen anyway.” He shoots you a smile. “Let’s go get you crazy kids hitched.”

The girl sitting at the reception desk inside the chapel smiles when three people walk in the front door, two of them obviously matching in nice clothes. "Well hey there." She chirps happily. "What can we do for you folks today?"

Zach walks up the counter with a nervous, yet eager, grin. “Uh, we want to get married.” He tells her, pointing between you and him.

"That's what we're here for." She smiles and starts shuffling through some unseen things at her desk. "Let me get the paperwork together. I'll need legal identification for both of you and I'll get the chapel ready. The justice will be down to see you in a moment." She waits just long enough for you and Zach to hand over your driver’s licenses, then thanks you and hustles off down a hallway that you hadn't noticed.

“Well that was pretty easy.” Zach murmurs, sure that there would be some kind of test or proof required that you are soulmates.

"I'm sure they'll want to see our marks. But that's easy enough."

“We can just show the initials .” He reaches for your hand and rubs his thumb over the webbing between your thumb and finger. It’s a calming pressure point for him and apparently for you too, he’s discovered. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Just that little measure of sweet steadiness from him has you feeling comfortable and confident again.

If there was even the slightest sliver of doubt that this man was your other half, part of your soul, it dies when you smile at your soulmate. Darrel realizes that he’s never seen that light in your eyes, at least never directed towards him. You are looking at Zach like he hung the moon in the sky, responsible for the stars sighing bright. You had always enjoyed looking up at the stars and you are looking at Zach with the same wonder. It clicks that door shut permanently inside his heart and relegates you towards the bittersweet first love you has always been and he had just not been able to accept.

The man who comes out to meet the new, happy couple asks a few questions and takes a peak at shared marks, all the while explaining how these short ceremonies work. “And you’ve brought a witness.” He looks very pleased at that. “Fantastic. Is there anything special you would like to include in your ceremony this evening?”

“Babe?” Zach turns towards you and lifts his brows. “Anything you want?” He knows next to nothing about weddings and what is expected, so he will leave it up to you. He’s just wanting to be your husband.

For a second you consider, knowing that the important part of today is just that you want to be married to your soulmate. “Do you have a version of your ceremony that talks about partnership instead of obedience?” You ask finally, deciding that while the old-fashioned wording is fine, what you and Zach have really is about being a team.

He smiles when you say that, nodding in agreement when the man discreetly looks over at Zach for his opinion on the issue. “Partnership.” He echoes. “That would be perfect.”

"Of course." The man nods politely and brings the three of you into in a large circular room that is mostly walled in glass. This ceremony room looks out over the garden surrounding the building and is lit with soft, romantic light as well as having some gentle music playing. It's not cheesy like you had expected one of these places to be, and you slip your hand into Zach's as you walk inside together.

This is actually pretty romantic, like it would actually be a venue a planned wedding would choose. He’s impressed and he smiles over at you. “Should have gotten you a bouquet of flowers.”

“It’s ironic,” you tell him, happily clinging to his arm. “We get each other flowers all the time. But don’t have any today.” Every opportunity to get a few fresh flowers on a land excursion always results in a bouquet in your room. It’s amusing that they’re missing today, when other people would consider them mandatory.

He chuckles in approval and nods. “It’s fitting.” He agrees. “The irony makes it even more so.”

The ceremony, for what it is, is short. The justice lays out a few pieces of paperwork and has you and Zach check the pertinent information that the receptionist filled in from your IDs, and then he asks Darrel to stand to the side of the small altar while he says a few words about togetherness, partnership, and commitment. It's actually a very nice speech, and one that you're glad that you saw a copy of amongst the papers on the altar with your soon-to-be signed marriage license.

It’s surreal, standing with you and Zach can’t concentrate on the words being spoken. Focusing on the way your eyes soften and melt as you look at him, obviously moved by what the justice is saying. He just knows that he is the luckiest man in the entire world right now, bonding himself to his perfect soulmate.

It’s like being wrapped up in a whirlwind, the way reality has become fuzzy around you, and all you can see is Zach. You both manage giddy, teary I do’s, and the pronouncement of: “You may more kiss your bride” makes your heart leap.

With the hand not holding yours, he reaches for your waist, pulling you close. “Until my dying breath.” He vows, nudging his nose against yours and then softly pressing his lips against yours in the sweetest kiss.

Three sets of hands applaud politely, while you are off somewhere on Cloud 9, and in the furthest part of your mind you can swear that you hear bridal music playing. None of it matters, though. Nothing beyond standing here being joined with Zach and being able to go forward into your future with him.

This is the bliss you never trusted yourself to dream about. Strive for. It’s right here in your hands.

******

Three hours later, Zach pulls into the driveway of your parent’s house, the blissful euphoria of getting married isn’t even dimmed by the upcoming confrontation. Another family dinner. One where Darrel has been invited again, this time by you and Zach. He shuts off the engine. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Ready.” Back in your regular clothes — and happily relaxed after celebrating your marriage back at the hotel room — you give his hand an encouraging squeeze and lean over the car’s console to kiss him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He’s not sure how they will react, but he’s sure it won’t be good. His fingers play with your new - handed down - wedding set.

In the time since the wedding you’d not only celebrated enthusiastically, but also stopped at a large fine jewelry store in the city to pick out a wedding band for Zach. He’ll probably choose to wear it on a chain while he’s working in order to stay safe and not have it get crushed with ingredients every week, but it was importance to both of you for him to have the simple gold band on his finger. “We’re in this together, babe,” you remind him, pushing open the car door and flashing him a grin. “Whatever happens, happens. They’ll probably be more upset about the inheritance than the marriage.”

“I hope not.” He frowns, shaking his head. “I know Ms. Flores said the will could be contested, but it would be foolish.”

“We’ll see what happens.” Honestly, your parents are more of a wildcard than you had ever expected, so tonight is a bit of a question mark as far as they are concerned. “We should go in.” The bottle of bubbly you picked up as a gesture of celebration is in one hand and you take his with the other, then head to the door.

As agreed, Darrel will be arriving in less than five minutes. To create a buffer, or distraction if it’s needed. Zach knows that your mom had an appointment with the attorney today and is surprised that you haven’t heard a word from them.

“Mom?” When you open the front door the house is silent, and you can’t think of anything more foreboding. “Dad?”

Maybe they are in the kitchen?” He asks softly, holding tight to your hand as you both step inside and he shuts it behind the two of you.

They aren’t. They aren’t on the back porch by the grill, and they aren’t in the living room.

Where your parents are, is upstairs in your bedroom. And the sight is as confusing as it is unexpected.

“Do you want me to give you a minute or stay?” He doesn’t know exactly what this means, but he sees the confusion marring your beautiful face when you see your parents in your childhood bedroom.

“No.” You shake your head and reach for his hand instead of letting him move away. “No. Whatever is going on, I want you with me.”

“Then I’ll stay right here.” He promises softly, frowning as he turns back towards your parents.

"I–um–" Despite being sure that this is going to be awkward, or perhaps because of it, you're not quite sure where to start as you step closer to your bedroom. "Hi, guys...? Are we not having dinner tonight?"

Your mother looks up, her head buried in an old photo album and she bites her lip. “You’re so grown up.” She shakes her head and looks down at the photos when you were probably three or four. “I can’t believe how much things have changed.”

"Yeah, it's..." You don't want to point out the obvious – that of course things have changed – since this might be an unexpected part of your mother grieving for her own mother's death, but it does strike you as odd. "It's been a long time since those were taken."

“You were such a happy little girl.” She murmurs, flipping the page and catching sight of a photo of you and your grandmother. Her breath catching on a small sob. “So close to her.”

"I miss her too, Mom." Yes...this is definitely an odd part of the grieving process. Your eyes turn up to meet Zach's and he nods, urging you forward to go into your room. He's close behind when you sit down on the bed next to your mother. "But she's with us every day as long as we take the time to remember her."

“I can’t believe it.” She murmurs softly. “I never really believed that she would be gone.”

"It's going to be hard to get used to." For once, you agree with your mother wholeheartedly.

Your father hums as he pats your mother’s back. “It will be better in time, dear.” He comforts her.

"Do you want to bring some of the photos downstairs?" You offer, wondering if they might have lost track of time and forgotten that you were coming for dinner tonight. "Zach and I can cook so you two can look through photos, if you like."

“Dinner?” She frowns for a moment and then her eyes widen. “Oh my god! I forgot about dinner!”

"It's totally okay, Mom," you promise her. Your hand is on her back now, too. Rubbing soothing circles. "Let us take care of it, okay? Darrel should be here any minute and we can all share stories. How does that sound?"

“Darrel?” She frowns and shakes her head. “You said— why would Darrel be coming? I didn’t invite him.” Her eyes beg you to believe her, knowing how upset you had been earlier when he had shown up that first day.

“I know you didn’t.” A gentle pat of your mother’s shoulder as you sit behind her doesn’t seem like quite enough, but she isn’t a very huggy person. That’s your father. “We invited him.”

“You did?” The confusion in her voice is clear, much like the frown on your father’s face. Both of them had been unhappy with the boundary you had set and now you seem to be throwing that all away.

“We ran into him earlier and had a good talk,” you explain. It’s time says the look in your eyes when you glance up at Zach, and his subtle nod is encouraging as he moves closer to your side. “A lot has happened today,” you tell your parents gently, trying to be kind to them in their grief.

“I know.” Your mother swallows harshly and looks away, fidgeting with a folded piece of paper that is under the bottom of the photo album. “We had the meeting with Mother’s lawyer today.”

"So did we." It's probably against some kind of disclosure policy for Ms. Flores to disclose to your parents that you spoke with her this morning, or what was spoken about, but just in case it's not you lean toward complete transparency. "Why don't we all go downstairs, Mom? We can talk about that after dinner."

She nods, not saying a words, not even sure if she has the words to say. It’s been a long day, filled with harsh truths that she’s been forced to confront.

"We'll take care of dinner," you offer again, and you and Zach lead the way back downstairs. The headlights of Darrel's truck are just shutting off in the driveway, and you're hoping that the distraction of another person here will help break some of the tension.

It’s rare that your mother doesn’t interject some opinion, but this time, she just nods. “Whatever you want to do.” She murmurs.

The best you can do is chalk it up to grief again, because normally she would be either insisting in doing things herself or giving you step by step instructions. “I’ll figure it what we have,” you offer to Zach. “Do you want to let Darrel in and maybe we can all talk in the kitchen while we make whatever dinner is going to be?”

“Come dear, let me make you some tea.” Your father hooks his arm around your mother’s waist and steers her towards the kitchen.

Zach kisses your forehead and goes to say hello to the man he never expected to be friendly with, and you lead your parents into the kitchen. While your mother sits down at the table and your father puts a kettle on, you take inventory in the refrigerator and in the cupboards. It seems like your mother intended to make pork chops and mashed potatoes casserole tonight, and you're relieved to find some frozen green beans. That's plenty enough food for five people to eat dinner. The few apples in the fruit drawer will make a delicious, quick applesauce.

It feels a little weird to be opening the door of his new in-law’s home as if he were the host, but he sees Darrel and grins in relief. A stark contrast from where he would have been just half a day before now. “Welcome.” He jokes.

"Normally it's Miss June at the door acting like the sun's just come out." He admits. They shake hands – not quite at the level of anything more yet – and nods toward the inside. "You tell 'em yet?"

“Not yet….” Zach admits and shakes his head. “Something’s going on, and it’s odd.”

"Odd?" Darrel tips his head.

“Miss June is….docile.” He huffs quietly, keeping his voice down so it doesn’t carry far. Darrel has spent time with your parents so maybe he can clue the two of you in on something you might not be aware of. “She was up in Bunny’s room, looking at a photo album and didn’t cook dinner.” He shrugs. “She’s letting us cook.”

“That’s…” Darrel frowns, shucking his jacket at the door. “Unlike her.”

“I know.” Even if he hasn’t spent much time with your mother, getting her to let him help with the funeral food had nearly been the beginning of world war three.

“Think it’s finally sinking in?” He asks, concerned because the unexpected nature of your grandmother’s death.

“Maybe?” Zach shrugs and reaches out to slap his shoulder. “Into the fray we go.”

When they come into the kitchen your parents are bent over cups of tea at the table and you’re starting to peel potatoes. “Hey Miss June, Tom.” Darrel steps into the kitchen and moves over towards your parents to hopefully ease the obvious tension in the room. Although it’s not a hostile tension, it’s morose.

“Good evening, Darrel honey.” June sniffles and draws herself up to her full sitting height. “It’s good to see you.”

“How are you doing?” Just because your parents had plans for your future and had also kept him hoping that that dream would become reality, he genuinely cares for the older couple. Leaning down, he hugs her and kisses her cheek.

“Oh, it’s been quite a day.” She returns the kind gesture half-heartedly. “How are you, dear?”

“I’m…good.” He realizes, shifting back and smiling at her. “I’m actually really good.”

"That's good." She nods vaguely, obviously still very distracted, and looks around the room again. "How did...I don't..." Your mother stops, pauses, takes a deep breath, and tries again. "How did this invitation come about?"

“We ran into each other at the church.” He doesn’t think that you’ve told them, so he doesn’t mention that you had invited him over to celebrate, and drive home the point that their wishes for you life were never going to happen.

"We brought over a donation to the food bank," you explain. Zach has already picked up a peeler and it helping you with the potatoes, but you turn around to face your parents at the counter. "We...have something to tell you guys." Everything in the kitchen stops for a moment, and Zach comes back to your side – dirty hand reaching for dirty hand in an odd sort of symbol of the promise you've made. No matter what, you're in this together.

"We went up to Windrixville a few hours ago." You brace yourself for the coming storm of disapproval. "To get married. Darrel came as our witness."

A pin drop could be heard if one fell. Zach, you and Darrel seem to collectively hold your breaths to see what their reaction would be. Your father looks like he was sucker punched in the gut and your mother immediately bursts into tears.

To be honest, it's better than you were expecting. There's no screaming, you aren't immediately being thrown out, and there is a distinct absence of guilting you about how you're dishonoring your family for reasons that make absolutely no sense. Still, it is a very big life event to have happen unexpectedly so you have to give them a little bit of grace.

“I did it Tom, she said I was going to do it and I did it.” She wails, jolting your father out of his frozen shock to turn and curl his arm around your mother.

“You didn’t—”

“I did!” She insists, pulling that same folded paper out of her pocket and shaking it as if it would explain everything. “Our daughter got married without us there because I’ve driven her away!”

"Mom, what is that?" Instantly, you're wiping your hands off and moving to your parents' side. The sting of the fact that it's true can be dealt with another time. There had been barely a thought paid to the fact that your parents would be there today. They have been so obviously against you and Zach as a couple – as soulmates – that you had simply figured that no matter where or when you got married, they would never want to be there.

Your mother can’t talk, too busy burying her face in your father’s shoulder as she sobs her heart out, but Tom gives you the answer you need. “Your grandmother left her a letter.” He murmurs quietly.

"She seems to have left them for all of us." The envelope is barely in your mother's grip and one nod from your father is enough permission to take it. Her name is scrawled across the front and there is just one sheet of paper inside, but it's easy to tell that your grandmother must have sat down and written all of these letters at once. Slightly morbid, if you're honest, but she was always very conscious of her own mortality after her friends started to get sick and begin dying.

Your father just hums and Zach shuffles behind you as he watches your mother continue to cry.

Junie, the letter begins, in your grandmother's distinctive handwriting. I hope very much that you never need to read this note. That I am simply able to tear it up and write you something new. But unfortunately you inherited my stubborness, and we both passed it on to Bunny. If things were a bit less dramatic right about now, you would roll your eyes at that, but this isn't the time.

I don't have any delicate ways to try to say this anymore, dear. Perhaps if I had been more direct with you these last few years, the situation would be different. But the fact is, my dear, you are losing your daughter. Your eyes widen, staring at the page, tears springing to your own eyes just the same as they are to your mother's. Had your Gram really been so on the nose with her about all this? It seems so...dramatic?

Punishing her for changing her major should have been where I put my foot down with the whole thing, but this nonsense with Darrel Curtis has to end. She is in love, Junie, and so excited about it. It's no good to play pretend anymore, and I'm sorry if it still hurts, but losing your soulmate doesn't mean that Bunny deserves to lose hers. Or that she will be just as happy with someone else, the way you have been with Tom. Darrel is a sweet boy, but he and Bunny want different things. It's as plain as the nose on my face.

Let her choose her own life, Junie. Let her be happy and just be happy for her. I know you don't get the same once a week phone calls that I do. I know that you don't get to be updated on her life the way I do. She is only going to drift further out of your grasp if you keep this up.

Zach can see the way you tense, covering your mouth with your hand and he moves over to your side. Sensing, rather than seeing the tears and wanting to comfort you, no matter why you might be crying.

“I just – I was trying to stop her from caring.” The broken explanation probably doesn’t make sense to anyone who hasn’t experienced loss, but your mother tries desperately to explain. “I love you, you know I do and I always will, but- but you know how it still aches to this very day.” Tom shushes her softly, nodding and murmuring quietly. “I know sweetheart. I know.”

“You had a soulmate?” For your entire life, you had always known your parents as the perfect unit. Both of them choosing to be together instead of having the universe choose them for each other. Your father’s mark is shared only with his twin brother — a rare instance of platonic soulmates — but you had lived your entire life thinking that your mother had never, ever born another person’s mark.

Darrel’s eyes widen, aware that this is a conversation that is between family and he is not family. “I’m going to go light the grill.” He offers quietly to Zach, reaching out and squeezing Tom’s shoulder as he moves by.

“Mom?” You feel like you’re shaking, barely registering Darrel leaving the room as you step closer and practically fall down into a chair. How long has she been lying to you? How much has she lied about?

She pulls away from Tom’s shoulder, eyes devastated and red. “I- I never knew how to talk about it, about him without-“ she chokes out a sob and covers her mouth as fresh tears pool. It takes her a moment, the steady and comforting hand of her husband around her shoulder as she swallows harshly and continues on. “Yes.” She whispers quietly. “I had a soulmate.”

“And…” You swallow back accusations and anger for the sake of seeing her so upset, but are grateful when Zach comes to sit down beside you. “He died?”

“Car accident. September 10th, 1979. Four twenty-five in the morning.” She sighs, closing her eyes as she starts to tell you the secrets that have been buried for years. “He was- older.” Even though she isn’t looking at you, she bows her head. “Dropped out of college already to make his dreams of being a rock star come true.”

The exact date and time. Shit. That, you know without hesitation, is exactly how you would be if anything happened to Zach.

But no wonder. No wonder she had freaked out when you changed your major to music after your first semester of college. “You were just a kid…” You realize a second later. September 1979…your mother was nineteen years old.

“Still, I knew that I wanted to be with him forever.” She looks over at Tom, a watery, apologetic smile on her face. “We met at his show. His band was performing at my college. It was…..instant. All consuming.” She swallows harshly and looks back at you. “Traveling musicians think they are invincible. He was coming back to see me.” Her chin wobbles and she presses her lips together to stop herself from crying again. “Late night, overly tired….” She closes her eyes again. “He fell asleep at the wheel.”

“I’m so sorry, Mom.” What else can you say? What could even come close to expressing how awful it is to hear that your teenage mother lost a man she loved dearly? The best you can do is reach for her hand and listen.

“His name was Marcus.” She knows you are upset at her, there is a tightness to your eyes. “He was 23.”

“And I’m guessing…” The breath you draw is sharp. Anguished in a way you can’t quite describe. “That I hit a nerve by deciding to pursue a music career.”

“I didn’t mean-“ she shakes her head. “I was so shocked when you choose music, even though I shouldn’t have been.” She sighs. “I was trying to ignore it.”

“You didn’t have to.” To banish the memory of an entire person sounds endlessly painful and complicated. It sounds like torture. “We could have talked about it. About him. The whole situation.”

“It—” she glances over at Tom. “It might have confused you. I didn’t want that.” The one hand held in yours squeezes. “I love your father.” She promises.

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you assure her, giving her that gentle squeeze in return. “But what’s confusing about knowing that my mother has a big enough heart to have loved two people in her life?”

“I don’t know.” She murmurs softly. “We just agreed that you should just believe that your father and I didn’t have traditional soulmates.”

“What I don’t understand, though…” Well, there is a lot that you don’t understand, frankly, but the larger puzzle pieces are starting to come together. “Is why you would object to me finding Zach?”

“Your mother never wanted you to ever experience a tenth of that kind of pain.” Tom murmurs softly. “She was broken, and part of her heart has never healed.” He picks up the hand you aren’t holding and kisses it. “When she was carrying you, we talked about what we wanted and we just felt it was best. She was having nightmares, vivid ones.”

“Will you finally tell me how you met Dad?” The question jolts out of you like a lightning bolt, not meaning to be accusatory but hoping for some kind of clarification. Your parents had always said they were best friends and that was it. Nothing more was ever said and it has felt like a lie of omission for your whole life. Now you know why.

“We grew up next to each other.” Tom admits. “At least since third grade when I moved next door.”

June sighs softly, hoping you don’t hate her now. “Tom was over at the house when the officer came. They knew he was headed to my house because—” She swallows. “I was his wife.”

“Mom.” Your back hits the flat of the chair with a thud when you nearly fall backward while sitting up. “You were married to your soulmate?”

“I was still in college,” she is begging you to understand. “And there didn’t seem to be any need to wait. We were young, in love and destined to be together.”

“I’m not mad at you for being in love.” It seems important to clarify. To be particular about what has your stomach and chest all tied up in knots. “I don’t care how many people you’ve lived or how many you married. I’m upset because you hid an entire life from me and pretended you had never done anything other than the perfect thing. It’s made me feel like a fuck up for my entire adult life.”

“Oh sweetheart.” She wilts at your confession. “I wanted you to think things were perfect so if you chose to be with Darrel, you wouldn’t feel like you were wrong.” She reaches out and caresses your face, letting go of Tom’s hand. “You are probably the one thing in my life I got right.”

“The problem wasn’t that you liked me being with Darrel. It’s that you never let it go.” You’re both crying not, hot tears of anxiety, fear, and anguish staining both of your faces. “To the point where the poor guy sat on his hands waiting for me to come home and never got to go live his own life, and I felt like if I invited you to my wedding you would have hated me for it.” Sniffling through the tears, it’s only Zach’s steady hand on your back that keeps you from accelerating past upset and into angry.

“I am so sorry.” She swallows harshly. “I should have let it go a long time ago. I should have been happy that you were happy. Instead, I ruined it for you.” She shakes her head. “I blame myself for him dying and I got so worried about you feeling that pain that I caused a very different kind of pain for you.”

“Seems like Gram was the only one who knew the whole story.” The long, low exhale you let out just makes you feel tired. Exhausted, really. Another layer of missing your grandmother seems to settle on top of you in the most unpleasant way. “No more secrets.”

“No more secrets.” She agrees, wiping away her tears. “So you are married?” She asks, looking between you and Zach. He nods and she gives a watery smile. “Then we need to celebrate.” She decides. “What do you think? We could order in?”

“Darrel went out to light the grill.” You nod almost dumbly to the porch, where your ex is trying very hard not to watch everything going on inside. “We should get him back in if we’re not going to cook.”

“You shouldn’t do anything on your wedding day.”

“We don’t mind,” you insist, but that stubbornness that all the women in your family share is right there in her eyes. “Alright…” you glance back at Zach and he nods. “We’ll order in. And we’ll talk. All of us.”

“Why don’t I call Redrock Canyon Grill?” Tom offers, patting your mother’s knee and standing up. “They have some good food, Zach. There’s talk of getting a Michelin star.”

“Sounds like it would be perfect.” Zach agrees. His hand has been rubbing soothing circles on your back and doesn’t let up, letting you know that he is here and supporting you but letting you have whatever conversation you need to have with your mother.

“Good.” Your father nods, only stepping away to open the sliding door and beckon Darrel back inside. The night’s plan has changed yet again, but he can hope that there might be fewer tears from here on out.

“I know you must have questions.” Your mother offers quietly, hoping that by answering them, she can repair some of the damage she has done. Repair your relationship. “But I also want to know about your wedding.”

“We went to the soulmate chapel in Windrixville.” It’s something to smile about, thankfully, and tries to put some distance between tears and potentially being upset with each other. “Gram…she left Zach a letter, too. Along with a gift.” You hold out your hand tentatively, wondering if she’ll be upset. “She was going to send him a few of the rings I liked best when I was a kid. She wanted him to choose one to propose with.”

“She did?” She takes your hand and looks down at the ring set on your hand, running her finger over the ring. “I always liked this set.” She looks back up at you and smiles. “He picked beautifully.”

"It's Zach's birthstone." A fact which still feels quite close to your heart. Like it was the perfect reason to choose it. "The wedding was just simple. A few kind words about partnership and support." It does, however, bring a smile to your lips to think about again. "I have the paperwork in my purse. And the receptionist sent us the video of the ceremony already. If–if you want to see it?"

Her eyes light up, a wonderful hope shining in them. “Please? I would love to—” she cuts herself off and starts over. “I would be honored if you shared it with me.” She admits. “I— I’m sorry that you felt that you had to go to the soulmate chapel.”

"We wanted to be married, not to have a giant wedding," you tell your mother honestly. "That's all. We had talked before now about having the captain on the ship marry us."

“You wanted a small wedding.” She’s repeating it like she’s burning that fact into her brain and trying to offer suggestions to ‘fix’ what is not broken. “Then you got what you wanted, sweetheart.” She agrees.

"Like Gram and Grandpa getting married at the courthouse. Just something simple." The video will keep until the guys come back from getting dinner ordered. At your father's request, Zach had joined them to look over the menu.

“As long as you were happy with it.” She promises. “That’s all that matters.”

"I am." Like a peace settling over a tumultuous evening, that truth blankets anything else that might get in the way. "I really am."

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

ItSotN: @greenwitchfromthewoods @copperhalfcent @ariavitiellos @spishsstuff @76bookworm76

[lynzishell]

The Present 💚 Copperdale

Prev // Next

Transcript under the cut:

Julian:  Have you read it yet? Phoenix: No. I don’t know if I can. I’ve just been staring at it for the last hour. Julian: Do you want me to read it? Phoenix: Um. Yeah. Would you?

Julian:

Dear Phoenix,

I’ve written this letter dozens of times over the years. I only hope I can find the courage to give it to you one day. You likely don’t want anything to do with me, and I understand that, but I want you to know how sorry I am. Sorry for abandoning you and your mom, for not being there for you as you grew up, or when she passed, for everything.

The truth is, I wasn’t capable of being the father you needed back then, and that wasn’t your fault, nor was it what you deserved.

I’ve debated many times over the years about whether reaching out to you would do more harm than good. I have a bad habit of taking from people, of sucking them dry, and leaving them worse off than when I found them. So, I thought maybe it’s best that I stay gone, leave you to live your life.

If you’ve made it this far, you’re probably wondering what’s changed. Why am I reaching out to you now?  Well, eight years ago, everything changed. Eight years ago, I had another son. His mother died due to complications during childbirth, and suddenly there I was, barely a year sober with a newborn baby in my arms and nowhere to go. The only person I had left to turn to was my sponsor. Luckily, his family had a ranch in Chestnut Ridge, and said we could live there as long as I took care of the house and the property and the animals. A lot of work for a single father with a baby. Those first few years were the hardest of my life, but we got through it.

I’m nine years sober now, and Danny will be starting fourth grade in the fall.

He’s been asking a lot of questions lately about family.

I haven’t told him about you yet. I wanted to reach out to you first. If you’re interested in meeting him or speaking to him, I’m sure he’d be thrilled. But, if not, if you prefer to be left alone, then I’ll respect that.

For what it’s worth, I’m not just reaching out for him. Every single day I look at him and I’m reminded of you. I see all the things I missed out on. All the things I was never there for. And it eats me up. I know that’s my doing. It’s mine to live with. But, on the off chance you’re willing to speak to me, I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere this time.

Sincerely, Joseph Vega

Phoenix: … Julian: What do you think? Phoenix: I don’t know. I hate not knowing what the right answer is. Julian: I don’t think there is a right or wrong answer. Phoenix: Doesn’t feel that way.

Julian: Look, all I know is, for the first time the choice is yours. Your whole life, other people have been making it for you. Whether it was your dad by leaving, or your mom by not allowing him to come back. But now, if you want to know him, you can. If not, you don’t have to. But for once, you get to make that choice for yourself. It’s not about deciding what’s right, it’s about deciding what you want.

Phoenix: I don’t want to know him. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a father, and that’s okay. I’ve made my peace with that. I’m not even angry with him anymore. He’s not worth the energy to be angry. I think it’s great that he’s doing well, and that he has a second chance to be a father. But he’s not mine, and he never will be. Dawn might hate me for it, but there’s no place for him in my life.

Julian: Okay, then we can toss this letter in the fire and never speak of it ag— Phoenix: But… Julian: But? Phoenix: The kid. Danny. I need to know he’s okay. And I need him to know that, if he’s ever not okay, I’m here, I’m his brother and if he ever needs help, he can come to me. I want him to know he’s not alone.

Julian: So, you want to call him? Phoenix: No, I want to see him. In person. Julian: You’re gonna go all the way to Chestnut Ridge? Phoenix: Yeah. Yeah, I am. Will you come with me? Julian: Of course.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for wanting a material thing rather than an experience for my college graduation gift, and being upset I still don't have it?

I skimmed through some other AITA posts to prepare me to write this one properly, and saw someone use the term "validation bait." I bring that up because I fear this post may read like that once all is said and done, but I genuinely am worried my perspective might be skewed. I encourage you to enter "Reddit Mode" if you decide to reply after your judgement with additional context and feel the need to be blunt.

Background context: I have an older sibling who graduated before me during the beginning of COVID. While his gift was delayed as a result, we as a family (three children one father) ended up going to Disney World, NASA, and Universal Orlando in 2021 to celebrate his accomplishment. It was a great trip, aside from the horrific humidity and the hurricane that just barely missed us. Later on, I asked my sibling if that was what he actually wanted to do, and he said our father proposed some ideas because he didn't really have any and Florida sounded like a good idea to him. My asking this will make sense later, but putting it here seems the most logical.

Additionally, it may be important to know that my father goes on a lot of trips. At least, more than anyone I've personally known. I'm not gonna try to calculate the exact number, but I will say in the span of less than a year (after the family Florida trip), he went to both Canada and Mexico for a week each, on top of additional excursions to Florida and Vegas-- almost all also including bringing his girlfriend. At the same time, he claimed assistance with college tuition was out of his budget, started having me pay rent on a part time job, and told my younger sibling fixing the AC in their car would cost too much as well. Even I know something doesn't add up here, but maybe I'm taking it too personally. End background context.

Fast forward to spring of 2023, and it's my turn to graduate college. Here's the thing: my brother was asked at least a year in advance to his graduation what he would like to do. I wasn't asked; I had to bring it up myself, and I waited until my graduation was only two months out. It was also over a phone call, because my father was out of town for at least the fifth time that year already. I dropped the hint that, for my graduation present, I would really like to get a nice gaming desktop. My father's response was, "... We'll see." Later on, he elaborated through text stating, "I took everybody to florida because i think graduations should be more about memories than what material thing you can get out of your dad."

Here's the thing: it's no secret to my dad that I'm a gamer, and I like video games. Additionally, it's no secret that a gaming desktop is something I have wanted for a decade. Even since middle school I've talked about gaming desktops and how much I wanted one. Even so, I happily played games like Saints Row III on a laptop that chugged along at 12 frames per second and took every crash in stride. I also thought that this kind of gift would be a relief to my dad, as my thought process was it would be far less expensive than taking an entire family somewhere out of the state for a week. Not only that, but there wasn't really anywhere I wanted to go. I don't have the desire to travel like he does; I don't mind taking my time off at home or locally, and relaxing with the things I have rather than spending a ton on a fancy dinner or hotel or concert.

So, naturally, I was confused, dismayed, and heartbroken. While I started crafting a text response explaining why a gaming desktop would not just be for personal use, but would also be advantageous for my career (my degree was in animation and I learned surface level coding for making video games), I also wondered why it was wrong for me to want a "material thing" even if it wasn't something necessarily "useful." Because while, yes, a gaming desktop would have the power I needed for more intensive animation projects, that wasn't really why I wanted one. But I figured explaining as such would help convince my dad why it was a good idea.

My dad ended up calling me before I could finish crafting my text, so I did my best to explain my standpoint, as well as pointing out how the specs for a gaming desktop are pretty much parallel with the specs for a desktop for things like 3D rendering and animation. He stood his ground on "making memories" as well, and also hinted that I was acting entitled for asking about my graduation present. I think I pointed out to him how he asked my older brother far in advance what he wanted for his graduation, but those details of the conversation are a little faded with time. I did end up sending my text after that phone call anyway, as I felt it better explained what I was thinking and feeling than I could say in verbal conversation (I've always gotten a little flustered talking to my dad about things I want that he doesn't approve of).

Fortunately, after reading my text, my father seemed to come around, and invited me to put together a list of parts for my computer, since I wanted to build it. I got really excited and got the help of my computer-savvy friend to put together something I thought was reasonable-- it had a really good graphics card and processor, and I made compromises on some of the other parts to lower the cost. I haven't looked at the list in a while, but the total cost-- tower, two mid-range monitors, basic keyboard and mouse-- was something like 2.5k approaching 3k. Mid range (at least, it is these days) I think, but it would be enough for the things I wanted to do.

I put the list together, and emailed it to my dad. The assumption I had, was he would purchase the parts, and then we would build it together (or I would build it alone). However, later on I went to ask him if he had gotten my email, and while he said yes, he also said, "I'm not paying for the whole thing. I can't afford it, and it's not fair to spend more on you as an individual than what I spent on your brother as an individual for the Florida trip."

I find the latter point somewhat fair considering I'm the only person who benefits from this gift, but the first point, given the background context on my father's habits, I'm not sure how much I believe. But arguing with him would have been pointless. I definitely would have liked to have had that information beforehand, but it ultimately didn't change much.

This is getting long, so I'll try to summarize the rest. This was just the first instance of my father changing the goal posts for my graduation gift. First, he tried to convince me that getting a prebuilt tower would be just as good. I did the research, and a tower with the graphics card I wanted would have cost as much as building my own tower and buying a monitor, keyboard, and mouse, and still not have been as good in other specs anyways. Then, he tried to tell me he was only going to give me $1000 towards the computer. I pointed out paying for my older sibling for the Florida trip would have cost at least $1500-- if I hadn't done the research, I wouldn't have known any better and just blindly agreed. Then, two days after my graduation, he stated that he wasn't going to give me the money for the computer until I had secured a full time job.

At that point, I just gave up, and agreed.

Fast forward to now. I'm still working the part time job, I barely make enough to put a couple dollars into savings, no one is hiring me full time, and my dad hinted that, instead of doing presents for Christmas this year, we all agree to go on vacation somewhere. Not only that, but his family in Canada just told him they're going to Mexico in November. Not only is my dad implying we should go too and I should pay a portion of my own way, I have a further feeling he may say that this will be our Christmas as well. I still don't have the computer, even though my dad has noticed how much I'm struggling.

If I had the computer, I wouldn't have minded the vacation-- but I feel like my wants and feelings have been completely pushed aside in favor of what my dad thinks is good and/or right, and the wind has been taken out of my sails regarding my graduation entirely. On the other hand, maybe he's right that I focus too much on a material thing and should redirect my attention to an experience and go somewhere to relax/get away from daily life.

Am I a materialistic asshole?

What are these acronyms?