#but i can still be happy about the stuff that did get better

[bapeach]

Accidental love

Another long fic and I'm honestly very proud of it! I don't know anything about torn ACL's or anything so if stuff is wrong, just ignore it. I hope you enjoy! Constructive criticism is always welcome :D Find my masterlist here :) Pairing(s): Paige Bueckers x female!reader  Word count: 9.1k+  Warnings: depression, life-changing accident, cursing, happy ending Summary: After a life-changing accident, Y/N finds peace in her new life, but when Paige Bueckers faces her own injury, their worlds collide. ------------

Paige Bueckers

Of course, it was a name you knew. You’re a student at UConn, so if you didn’t know of her, well, you’d be living under a rock. Paige Bueckers is UConn’s star player. The golden student. The future of women’s basketball. A legend in the making… 

You could go on and on about the things you’ve heard about her. She always seemed to be present in your life in one way or another. A mumble in the hallway as you go to class, an edit on your TikTok fyp, a celebration post on UConn’s Instagram page…

You don’t know the girl personally, having only been in the same room as her a few times when you went and watched some of her games. You’ve heard a lot of good things about her. You respected her grind, the way she gave her all to basketball and was a great team leader. You’ve also heard she’s a sweetheart off the court and always tries to make people comfortable. She’s also really pretty, which you’re sure is a contributing factor to why she’s so loved. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. 

You’d had your own fair share of admirers because of your looks. You’d caught plenty of girls fawning over you as they ogled your muscles, giggling when you sent them a flirty wink. If you were honest, you were quite the player when you first came to university. You’d messed around with a few girls, never really getting into anything too serious. 

You just didn’t have time for relationships. You were too busy studying biomedical engineering while also having a job and hobbies. And boy, did you have hobbies. Ever since you were young, you were a very active kid. Your parents always had to beg you to come inside, only being able to persuade you with promises of weekends at the indoor playground/kid gym.

Growing up, you stayed active. You went for a run every morning and swimming at least once a week. You didn’t join your school’s sports teams because how could you only choose one? You spend every weekend doing a different sport until you run out, only to start over. Basketball, boxing, soccer, baseball, hockey... you did it all. Your all-time favorite, though? Rock climbing.

You think there’s nothing better in this world than rock climbing after a long week. Wind ruffling your hair as the bright sun shines on your back. Climbing as high as you can, your muscles burning as you strain them to their limit, your chest tight as you gasp for breath. But it’s all worth it, because in the end, when you reach the top and have a full view of the horizon? It feels like you’re on top of the world. Like you’re untouchable and all your hopes and dreams are within reach.

The thought of climbing always filled you with warmth and excitement. Even after climbing the same rocks over and over, you still felt in awe every time you made it to the top. Knowing that no matter what, at the end of the day, you could always count on the dusty stones beneath your fingertips always made a smile grow on your face. 

Well. That was before the accident, at least. Now the thought of it makes you feel a dull throb in your chest. 

The last time you went climbing, you’d gone with some fellow enthusiasts. It was a group of strangers you’d met at the indoor climbing hall. Their little club ranged from new climbers to experts, and you’d clicked with them immediately. The guide you went with was a middle-aged man who had over 20 years of experience, so you were excited to maybe learn some new things. He was a really nice guy, happy to see someone your age be so excited about his favorite activity. When you partnered up with him, you didn’t expect anything to go wrong. Daredevils like yourself never really think too much about the consequences of your actions or things that could go wrong, otherwise you’d be too afraid to do half of the things you do. So that day was like no other. At first at least.

When you had reached 3/4ths of the climb, it happened. Even now, 2 years later, you’re not sure what exactly happened. You only know that one moment you were gripping onto the rocky wall and the next you were falling. When you think about it, it all feels like a dream. It didn’t take you long before you hit the ground, but it somehow felt like ages.

You remember how distraught your guide was when you finally woke up in the hospital. You didn’t understand anything he was saying at first. He was crying too hard, stumbling over his words as he kept apologizing. Something about malfunctioning equipment? 

When the doctor walked in, you immediately knew something was very wrong. Your chest filled with an unbearable ache when you saw the sad frown on his face. After that, everything is pretty much a blur. You didn't hear anything after the words “paralyzed” and “never walk again” were spoken. Everything became muffled as your ears started buzzing. You felt your chest tighten, and this time not in a good way. You were drowning on dry land.

The next months were some of the darkest moments of your life. You felt like your world was ending. And it kind of was. Everything you thought you were, gone in a matter of seconds. Bound to a wheelchair for the rest of your life. You shut everyone out at first, but soon realized you couldn’t bear all of this alone. Your family was your greatest support. They were your greatest fans, always celebrating your wins, and now they were here to mourn your greatest losses with you as well. 

You lost quite a lot of friends after the accident. It was hard being friends with your sporty friends when you could only think about how you wished you could join them. Your friendships didn’t all end on a bad note, though. You knew that if anything was wrong, you could still call them, and they’d show up in a heartbeat. 

You also gained a few friendships. Some people you met at therapy, support groups, online forums,... You also found a friend in the guide you were with that day. While you hated him at first, too filled with pain to think clearly, you’d talked to him at a later point. He apologized profusely once more, but you forgave him quickly. It’s not like it was his fault. Besides, it was hard to hate him, the way he looked at you with so much guilt. He had kind but wise eyes, prominent smile lines, and his hair was graying a little, but he was still full of life and filled with passion. You knew this accident would haunt him for the rest of his life, and he didn’t deserve that, so you made sure to stay in touch with him. If only to let him know you were doing well and make sure he was too.

You still often think about the days when you could be wild and free. In the two years since the incident, you’ve changed a lot. You’ve calmed down greatly, becoming a lot more mature and wise. While you used to be the go-to friend for a crazy time, you were now the friend people came to for advice. You missed your younger self, but still felt like she was a part of you. You’d gone through so much, the change was only natural. And honestly? You were proud of the person you’d become. Sure, you weren’t perfect and still had your days when you felt like you couldn’t breathe and like the world was against you. But overall, you were at peace with your life. It’s also not like you’d fully lost your playful self. You still loved teasing your friends, pulling pranks, and causing mischief.

So yeah, while you didn’t know Paige personally, you definitely felt like you knew a lot about her from the media, the people around you, and even some of her friends. You’d met Azzi a year ago when she got injured during a game. She’d been destroyed when she realized she wouldn’t be playing again any time soon. Having to find something new to do, she’d made her way to the library, where she bumped into you. You started talking, and before long you two became pretty good friends. You listened to her situation and told her what you’d been through. 

At first, she’d apologized profusely, feeling bad about how she complained about not being able to play for a few months while you’d never get to do your favorite things ever again. You’d made sure the younger girl knew it was okay, and that you didn’t want her to feel like she couldn’t be upset just because you’d also gone through something. You’d spent hours with the girl talking about the adventures you used to go on and how much your life had changed. You made sure to tell her how happy you were despite everything, letting her know that no matter what, she’d be okay. 

While you don’t talk as much as you used to anymore, now that she’s back on the court, you still text each other every so often, smiling as you pass each other on campus. You didn’t blame her for becoming busy, you were excited to see her play with that bright smile on her face. You made sure to cheer her on and text her congratulations on her wins and “You did well” messages when the team lost. The girl appreciates you more than you know. Without you, she wouldn’t be where she is now. She’d learned so much from you.

Somehow, during your whole friendship, you’d never really met the team. Not that you really felt the need to. She had her friends, and you had yours. There was no need to mix up the groups. That being said, you didn’t really think you’d ever meet Paige or become close with her.

You were curious, though. As you wheel out of the library, you hear Paige’s name all around you. Two girls leaning in close as one gasps her name. A group of guys with their mouths dropped open as a video on their phone says the star athlete’s name. A professor walking past with a frown, mumbling, “... yeah, Paige Bueckers…”. 

When you reach your dorm, you open your laptop and search “Paige Bueckers” on Twitter. You immediately feel a pit in your stomach. The first tweet you see is a video with the caption “I’m gonna cry, I feel so bad for her”. You click the video and see why the basketball player was being talked about everywhere. At first, it looks like a normal clip from their most recent game. You see Nika passing the ball to Aaliyah, who passes it to a sprinting Azzi, who finally passes it off to Paige. You blink, and suddenly the blonde is on the floor, clutching her knee as tears stream down her face. You can see the worry and fear on her teammates’ faces, and the distraught but knowing look on Paige’s. A torn ACL. No doubt about it.

For a moment, your own accident flashes in your mind. The weightlessness as you were falling. Waking up and realizing you can’t move. You shake away the thoughts, blinking the haze from your eyes. You grab your phone to text the girl something, anything to make her feel better, but you pause. Right now, the last thing she’ll care about is a stranger texting her she’ll be okay when they probably don’t have any idea what she’s going through. Your thumb hovers over Azzi’s contact, but you end up closing the app. The brunette is probably too busy to talk, being too worried about her best friend. “I’ll talk to her soon,” you think to yourself before going on about your day.

You were right about talking to her soon. Only a week after the latest UConn tragedy, you see her. You were tucked away in your favorite corner of the library, a worn copy of your favorite book lying in your lap. You were surrounded by colorful pens, post-its, stickers, and tabs as you added new scribbles in the margins of the book (don’t worry, you’d gotten your own copy after the first time you read it).

Finishing a tiny doodle on the inside of the cover, you look up and see the younger girl. Beaming that wide smile of hers that could light up a dark room. The type of smile that makes you return the gesture before you even realize what’s happening. When she reaches your table, she greets you happily before looking back. It’s only then that you realize she’s brought company.

There she is. UConn’s basketball miracle in all her glory. Paige Bueckers. 

You look her up and down. She’s wearing her blue UConn tracksuit, her hair is in a bun, and she’s holding two crutches under her arms. Her usually bright blue eyes have become a darker color as a frown is set on her face. She didn’t want to be there, she wanted to be in her room, wallowing in her bed with a pint of ice cream. She doesn’t understand why Azzi felt the need to drag her out of the comfort of her own dorm to go meet some stranger that would give her the same stupid pitying looks she’d been getting from everyone around her. 

“Hey Ace,” you send her a grin before looking back towards the injured girl. “Hey, I’m Y/N,” you nod at her. She only frowns at you until Azzi turns and sends her a pointed look. “Paige,” the blonde sighs. You hide your amused smile, knowing she’d get even more annoyed if she thought you were making fun of her. 

“I figured it was finally time some of my favorite people met!” the brunette beams. When you catch her eye, you have a silent conversation with her. You knew why she was here with Paige. She was hoping you’d be able to help her best friend the way you’d helped her. You can tell by Azzi’s body language that she’s slightly on edge, not sure how you’d react. You send her a reassuring wink as you start talking, “About time! I’ve heard a lot about you, Paige,” you say gently. The girl only hums in response. 

You see Azzi frown for a second before her signature easy smile makes its way back to her face. “I was thinking we could all go for coffee,” she says, looking at you with hope in her eyes. “Sounds good to me!” you grin as you start packing up your stuff. Once you’re done, you glance over at Paige, who is looking around with a bored expression. You’re not offended at her not wanting to spend time with you. You knew what it was like to feel your world crash, and you’d also tried pushing people away. The blonde maybe didn’t want to be around you right now, but you’d make sure she realized that she’d be okay.

You put your bag on your lap before wheeling your way around the table so you could be right beside the basketball players. You see Paige’s eyes widen as she takes you in, only now having realized you were in a wheelchair. You let her observe you for a moment, seeing her emotions swim in her eyes. You could tell she was shocked and a bit embarrassed, but you also saw her frustrations as she clenched her jaw and started frowning again. “So that’s why Azzi wanted me to meet her. Just so she could tell me that whatever I’m going through is nothing compared to what she has to live with,” Paige thinks as she tries not to roll her eyes. 

You simply send her a smile. You don’t mind the anger that seems to radiate off of the girl. You know she’ll probably say and do stuff she doesn’t mean in rage, and you don’t mind being the person all that fury is aimed at. You know that at the end of the day, she won’t mean any of it, and you’d rather she tries to hurt your feelings than her sunshine best friend.

“Let’s go then, shall we?” you say with a raised brow and a tiny smirk before you start wheeling away. You lead the way through campus to your favorite coffee shop, making small talk with Azzi. You try to include Paige as well, but you don’t talk to her all that much, not wanting to overwhelm her. When you arrive at the shop, the brunette holds the door for you and Paige with a smile, her eyes twinkling. You thank her before following the blonde in. 

“Your usual?” Azzi asks as she walks in behind you. “Yes please, thanks Princess,” you say with a playful wink, a wide grin on your face. The brunette shakes her head in amusement, her eyes crinkling as she smiles. You make your way towards a free table in the back, waving hi to the barista that always calls you his favorite regular. Paige follows not long after, while Azzi waits in line to order the drinks. Once Paige sits down with a huff, slightly out of breath as she rubs the spots where she leaned against the crutches, you don’t say anything at first. The silence isn’t exactly fun, but it’s not a bad silence either.

When your friend makes her way to your table, you smile softly at her as you accept your drink. “Thanks, Ace.” “Of course,” she replies, her voice soft. She looks over at Paige for a moment before clearing her throat. “Listen, P, I know you’re hurting. Not just physically but mentally too. And I know how you feel like it’s the end of the world, but I promise you, it’s not. When I went through my injury and couldn’t play, I spiraled too. But then I met Y/N, and she made me realize that everything would be okay. I know you’re not happy about being here, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re not allowed to be sad, but please just… talk to her. Y/N is an amazing friend to have, not just because she knows what it’s like to lose stuff, but just because she listens. She really listens, and she has a way of making you feel a little lighter on days when things seem impossible.” 

You look at her as she’s speaking, your smile soft as your chest feels warm. It was nice to hear her say such sweet things about you and trust that you’ll be able to help someone else she cares so much about. 

Azzi turns to you before continuing. “And Y/N, please don’t think we’re only here because I want you to help P. I’ve always wanted to introduce you two. I feel like you two could be great friends!” You lean over to grab her hand and give it a little squeeze. Of course, to anyone else it might’ve looked weird, the way you and Azzi hadn’t spoken in a while, and she only seemed to come back to you for help. You knew that wasn’t the case, though. The brunette was the definition of kindness. I mean, she has the nickname “The People’s Princess” for a reason. You didn’t feel offended at all, knowing this only proved how much she trusted you and how much you’d helped her in the past.

Paige’s jaw stays clenched a little longer, her brows furrowed. “I don’t need her help. I don’t need anyone’s help,” she thinks angrily to herself. When she looks up at her best friend, however, she falters. She knows Azzi doesn’t have a bad bone in her body. “I guess… if Azzi speaks this highly of her, then… she can’t be that bad.” You see her soften as she gives the brunette a soft nod. She turns to you, sighing softly before giving you a tentative smile. You grin at her as mischief swirls in your eyes. “Yeah, we’re gonna work out just fine,” you think.

As you drink your coffee, you talk about everything that’s been happening in your life lately, asking Azzi for details on what she’s been up to since you last talked. You make sure to ask Paige questions too, getting to know her more as well. You keep the conversation away from basketball or your own accident. There was a time and place for that conversation, and it wasn’t here and now. 

You stay in the coffee shop for hours, just chatting about everything and nothing. You manage to make both girls laugh a lot, one time even making Paige laugh so hard, her coffee comes out of her nose. She’d looked pretty embarrassed, her face turning a bright red, but she couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face. 

You’re in the middle of telling Paige a story about something you and Azzi had done a few months ago when the brunette’s phone went off. You pause your conversation as you look at her with a raised eyebrow. “Oh shoot! I gotta go, uh, do you guys mind if I head out?” she rambles, already getting up. You look at Paige, who’s already looking at you. You grin at each other before turning to Azzi. “Don’t worry, we’ll play nice,” you smirk. 

Once the brunette leaves, you think for a moment Paige will go back to her quiet self, but you’re wrong. “So? What happened next?” she asks, her eyes wide in a childlike wonder. Warmth blossoms in your chest. The people weren’t wrong when they praised the type of person the star athlete is. She was sweet, paid full attention to what you were saying at all times, and she was funny as hell. 

You continue the story, making the blonde chuckle and shake her head in disbelief. “There’s just no way Azzi did that.” You shrug with a smirk, “It’s all true.” She looks at you a little longer, eyes squinted, as she tries to find out if you're lying. When she realizes you’re not, she chuckles again as she leans back. 

You continue to look at her and notice her demeanor change. Her smile slowly leaves her face as her body becomes tense again. Somehow you’d managed to not make her think about basketball or her injury the whole time you were at the coffee shop, but now it seemed to all come back in one big wave. 

She frowns, leaning forward as she hesitantly meets your eye. “So… Are you finally gonna tell me to just suck it up and stop moping about my knee? Because at least there’s a chance I’ll still be able to play?”

You look at her for a moment. “Nope.” You push away from the table as you start rolling your wheelchair to the door. “W-Wait, what?” You hear Paige stutter, her chair screeching from how hard she scoots it away from the table. You grin, hearing the clattering behind you as the blonde struggles to grab her crutches to follow you. You thank the girl holding the door open for you as you roll into the warm afternoon sun. Paige huffs as she finally reaches you, a frown on her face. You can tell she’s not really upset, though, the way her lips are curling into a small smile.

“Come on, I’ll walk you to your dorm… well… wheel you to your dorm…? Wheel to your dorm as you hobble along…?” Your eyebrows are furrowed as you rub your chin, trying to find the right wording. You hear Paige snort beside you as she starts moving. “Oh my god, bro, just shut up.” 

You stick your tongue out in response before speeding up a bit to match her pace. You two don’t talk for a moment, enjoying the nice breeze as birds whistle around you. “I had fun with you today, Paige,” you smile up at the girl. She smiles back at you. “I had fun with you too… I’m sorry for how I acted earlier, it’s just… it’s been really hard,” the frown from earlier makes its way back onto her face.

“Don’t worry about it, P,” you say with a smile. The girl returns the gesture, hearing you call her her nickname. “So uhh, you don’t want to tell, y'know, all that stuff about how it’ll all be okay?” She asks hesitantly. “Would you believe me if I did?” You ask without any judgment in your voice. “I’m not sure… probably not,” she says as she looks over sheepishly. “Then there wouldn’t be any point to it, would there?” You tease. 

She looks back ahead of her, but you stare a little longer. “I’ll tell you about my accident some day, but not right now. I don’t wanna tell you and have you just end up feeling bad, y’know? We had a good day, let’s not ruin it with my sob story,” you grin as you send her a wink.

Once you reach the blonde’s dorm, she looks at you with reluctant eyes. She doesn’t want to say goodbye just yet. “Give me your number, we’ll text,” you demand, not really giving her a chance to say no, but you both know she wouldn’t. You see her relax a little as she hands you her phone. Once you’ve put your number in and added a cheeky contact name, you give her back her phone. 

“Text me, alright? I know where you live now, so if you don’t, I’ll come find you,” you say with a teasing wink. “Yes, ma’am,” she grins. You two say your goodbyes before you make your way to your own dorm. You haven’t even made it out of the basketball player’s hallway before you hear your phone ding. Your stomach flutters and your chest feels warm. You were excited about your new friendship and were looking forward to getting to know the legendary player on a deeper level. 

Over the following weeks, you two continue to text every day, hanging out in the coffee shop a few more times too. Sometimes Azzi joins you, but more often than not, it’s just the two of you. You learn more about Paige’s family and friends and how life was living in Minnesota while she also gets to know you more. 

You can’t say every day you spend with the blonde is an amazing day. The girl’s injury was still fresh, so she was often grumpy and sad and found it hard to enjoy having to sit still in some coffee shop or library when she’d rather be out there playing ball. You never got upset with her though, you’d been there before, and you knew she just needed some silent support. 

One afternoon, your phone rings, bringing a smile to your face. You know who’s calling before you even look. “Hey, P,” you say, your grin clear in your voice. “Hey Y/N/N, whatcha up to?” she mumbles. “Just hanging out in my dorm, watching a show. What ‘bout you?” you reply, leaning back on your bed as you stare at the ceiling. “M’bored, you should come over… Some of the girls are coming over later… You should meet them,” she says. When you close your eyes, you can see her sitting in her room, one hand holding her phone as the other rubs her neck shyly.

“Sounds nice,” you murmur. You hear a soft sigh of relief on the other end. “Yeah?” Paige’s voice crackles through the phone, her tone hopeful. “Mhm,” you hum, “I’ll be there in like… 20 minutes?” “Ugh, 20 whole minutes?” she whines as you chuckle at how childish she could be. “Oh, I’m sorry? Do you want me to put my wheelchair in turbo mode?” You joke. “Oh my goddd, stoppp,” she groans, muffling her chuckles behind her hand. 

When you first made jokes about your injury and wheelchair, Paige had completely frozen, not knowing how to react. It had taken her a while, but now she was used to your stupid little jokes and knew you made them because you liked making people laugh.

You laugh softly at her reaction before saying goodbye and hanging up the phone. You get out of bed, hopping into your wheelchair with ease, having been through this whole thing what feels like a million times before. You quickly get ready, grabbing a book Azzi had been wanting to borrow for a while and putting it in your bag before heading out. 

You were excited to see Paige and Azzi again and were curious to see what their other friends were like. You were pretty nervous, though. You’d be the odd one out in their usual little bubble. You didn’t let that stop you from going over, though. You’d never really been afraid to take leaps, and weren’t going to start now either.

When you make it to Paige and Azzi’s dorm in record time (the wind must’ve helped you make it there so fast…), you let your presence be known with your signature knock. Paige opens the door almost immediately with her trademark grin. “Hey P,” you smile as you wheel your way inside. “Hey Y/N/N,” she replies. “So, when’re the others gonna be here?” you say as you follow her towards her room. “Don’t know. Half an hour maybe?” she shrugs as she plops down on her bed. You nod your head as you look around. 

You’d been in the blonde’s room a few times already, but you still liked seeing if anything had changed. Her room was filled with the usual clutter, clothes thrown on the chair in the corner, a few water bottles next to her bed,...

She pats the space next to her, inviting you in. You wheel closer before heaving yourself onto the bed. Blue eyes follow your every move, ready to jump into action if you need help. Once you’re comfortable, you lean back and smile at her. “Grey's Anatomy?” you ask, your head tilted in question. Paige’s face immediately lights up as she leans over to grab her laptop. You continue the show where you’d left off last time before you hear commotion in the living room. 

You look over at Paige, who looks back at you with a pout on her face. You chuckle, sitting up a little straighter to hop back into your wheelchair. Once you’re seated, you wait for the blonde to grab her crutches and lead the way. You laugh softly at her huffing and puffing, knowing she’d rather watch her show right now than hang out with her team.

When you make it to the living room, you see KK, Nika, Ice, and Azzi chatting as they shrug off their jackets. When they notice Paige and you, they quiet down. “Y/N! Hey, I didn’t know you were here,” Azzi beams at you. “Guys, this is Y/N, the girl I’ve told you about, the one that helped me during my recovery,” she says cheerfully. KK, Nika, and Ice smile kindly at you before introducing themselves. 

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you guys,” you smile. “Only good things, I hope?” Nika teases. “Meh,” you reply with a smirk. The girls laugh before finding a spot to sit as you guys hang out. They leave 2 spots open on the couch for Paige and you, making you send them a thankful smile. 

You sit down and get to know the girls a little better. You could see why the UConn team was such a close-knit group. The girls were funny, sweet, and protective and treated each other like family. 

After a while, KK and Ice get bored and decide to turn on Paige’s PlayStation to play Fortnite. You continue to talk to everyone, laughing at the funny stories the girls tell you about Paige, trying to embarrass her. The blonde’s face turns a bright red as she complains about them being jerks, but her bright smile doesn’t leave her face. Your heart feels like it’s grown two sizes with how happy you’re feeling.

“Oh wait, Ace, I’ve got that book you asked for,” you say. You look towards your bag, seeing it near KK. “Hey KK, d’you mind grabbing my bag for me?” you ask the gaming girl. “Hm?” she hums distractedly. “Grab it yourself, bro,” she says, completely focused on the game. You see Azzi open her mouth to say something, but you hold up your hand to stop her. You send her an evil grin as mischief swirls around in your eyes. You make your face neutral, maybe even a little pouty, as you let out a sad sigh, “Alright.” 

You grab onto your wheelchair a little louder than necessary as you lean forward to move into it. KK’s head whips around so fast, you think she might’ve given herself whiplash. “WAIT, NO!” she yells, her eyes wide as she scrambles to get up to grab it for you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone move as fast as her at that moment. 

The girls around you slap their hands in front of their mouths to stifle their giggles. The younger girl looks at them with a pouty frown, feeling bad for forgetting you couldn’t easily get up to grab something. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles as she hands you the book. You send her a wink and a grin, letting her know you were just joking. You weren't offended about the fact she seemed to have forgotten. It showed you that the girls didn’t just see you as someone with a disability.

She sits back down next to Ice, sticking her tongue out at the still laughing girl. “s’not funny,” she mutters, staring at the TV as she continues the game. You could get used to hanging out with these girls. You loved the way they constantly teased each other, but never went too far. Many people were too scared to make any type of jokes around you, too focused on your impairment to realize you were also just a person. 

20 minutes go by before a phone rings. You recognize the ringtone as Paige’s and look towards the sound. Her phone is lying on the table near Ice and KK, who both look over for a split second before their attention goes back towards the TV. “KK, gimme my phone,” Paige demands, leaning forward to grab it from her. “Get it yourself,” the younger girl quips back, not even glancing at the blonde. Paige looks over at the other girls for a second, a “Seriously?” clear on her face. 

She grins before copying you. Sigh. “Fine,” she mutters, grabbing onto her crutches, making them bang against each other. KK looks back and deadpans at her. “Go ahead,” she says dryly, turning back to her match. 

“Bruh, what the hell,” Paige huffs as she gets up to grab her phone. You let out a deep belly laugh at the annoyed look on her face. The blonde turns to you with an unamused frown, as you send her an innocent smile and a shrug. 

You guys hang out for a few hours before it’s time to head back to your dorm. Your chest feels light when you say your goodbyes. Each girl gives you a hug with the promise of hanging out again soon. When you make it back to your room, you see you already have 2 texts from Paige. “had fun 2day, thanks for coming over” and “think KK likes you more than me”. 

That night, you go to bed with a wide smile on your face.

Days go by, and you stay in touch with all of the girls, but you mainly hang out with Paige. Today was another one of your planned hangouts, this time at your dorm, but the second the blonde arrived, you knew it wouldn’t be all fun and games. She’d just gone to physical therapy for her knee, and her face looks thunderous. She hadn’t slept well, constantly waking up because of her knee, she’s sick and tired of not being able to play, and physical therapy had gone horribly. 

When she walks in, she wordlessly flops down on your couch as she stares at the ceiling, a frown etched into her face. You go over to your fridge, grabbing a bottle of water for the both of you before returning to her side. You give her the bottle and wait patiently for her to talk. “I fucking hate this,” she fumes. “It’s been weeks since the game, why is everything still so… so… ughhhh,” she groans, unable to find the words. You give her arm a squeeze in support, but she shrugs you off, shooting upright as she continues her heated rant. 

You stay calm as you listen to her, knowing she needs this moment to blow off some steam. When she quiets down, heaving from all the talking, you quietly try to comfort her. “I know it sucks, P, but you need to just keep going, don’t give up. You’ll be on the court again soon enough, and it’ll be like you never left-” you can’t finish your sentence before Paige interrupts. 

“NO, YOU DON’T FUCKING GET IT!” she yells, her frustrations high. You wince slightly at the volume but don’t say anything. You give the blonde a moment to calm down and let everything sink in. You’re not offended, you know people say things they don’t mean in moments like this. 

Once she realizes what she just said to you, the one person who understands more than anything, she looks at you with guilt in her eyes. Her blue eyes having become a shade darker as they look at you sadly. You see tears starting to well up before she leans forward, putting her face in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whimpers in shame. You lean forward again, softly grabbing her wrist to take her hands away from her face. You hold one hand between yours as you catch her eye. You give her a gentle smile, letting her know you’re not upset.

“I shouldn’t have yelled… I shouldn’t’ve said that,” she mumbles regretfully. “It’s okay, P,” you murmur, giving her hand a squeeze. “You’re not mad?” She looks at you like a kicked puppy. You shake your head with a smile, “I’ve been through worse. I’ll survive a pretty girl raising her voice at me.” She gives you a tiny, sad smile, leaning her forehead against your entwined hands.

You start telling her your story. The story of how you grew up, playing every sport under the sun, up until that one dreadful day. You tell her about the dark, depressive hole you fell into after you woke up paralyzed, the way you pushed everyone away, and how you thought nothing would ever be okay again. The whole time you’re talking, she looks you in the eyes, barely blinking as she listens intently. Her jaw clenches as her eyes become glassy when you talk about your depression. When you finish talking about what it was like the first few months after the accident, you pause for a moment, letting everything sink in.

“How’d you do it…?” She asks, her voice cracking with emotion. “It was hard… really fucking hard,” you start. “I pushed everyone away at first, but my family never gave up on me. They helped me realize that while it really fucking sucked… I was still alive. And I would find new things to care about. And I did!” You smile. “With all my free time, I started looking for new hobbies. I found out pretty quickly that I don’t have the patience for puzzles, and I poked myself one too many times to enjoy cross-stitching,” you say with a playful grin, making the athlete breathe out a little laugh.

“I learned that I have pretty good rhythm, so I was able to pick up playing the guitar and the piano pretty easily. I realized that doodling really helps me unwind after a long day, which is funny because it’s the complete opposite of how I used to relax. I got better and better at drawing and tried out a bunch of different mediums, but my favorite is still pencil drawings. I’d always loved reading but never made enough time for it, but now I try to finish at least one book a week… Uhh, I bought a PlayStation which I play on maybe a little too much, but you know what that’s like, Ms Fortnite addict.” You tease. She rolls her eyes, but you can tell that she’s no longer feeling so bad, a tiny smile decorating her face. 

You let silence fill the room for a moment. “I’m not saying this in a way of being like, ‘Stop complaining and get over it’, but I promise P, things will be okay. You’re the Paige Bueckers… It’s gonna take a lot more than a torn ACL for you to stop being you. Have some faith.” You send her a comforting smile as you squeeze her hand. She nods at you, her muscles relaxed as she finally lets out a relieved sigh. “Thanks… for everything,” she breathes. You shake your head with a smile, thinking it’s silly she’s thanking you for being her friend. “You don’t need to thank me for that… but you’re welcome. And thank you for including me in your group of friends… I don’t remember the last time I’ve had this much fun.”

You two talk for the rest of the afternoon, ordering a pizza when dinner time arrives. After you’re done eating, you migrate to your bedroom, letting a movie play in the background as you keep talking about everything and nothing. You’re sitting on your bed, telling Paige a story, waving your arms animatedly as her blue eyes stare into yours. “... And then she looked at me and I almost passed out from laughing! You should’ve seen the look on Ace’s face!” you say, hiccuping a little from laughing. The blonde laughs along, her chest feeling warm at the sound of your laugh.

“So what’s up with that nickname anyway?” she questions as she leans her head on her hand. “Ace?” You ask. “Well, her name’s Azzi, but people call her Azz, so then I started calling her Ace, as in A C E, like in a deck of cards. The ace cards are the highest cards in the deck, and I think of her quite highly,” you explain.

“Okay, but doesn’t it depend on the game?” she asks, tilting her head like a confused puppy. “Hm?” “Well, isn’t the ace card the lowest in certain games?” she says with a raised eyebrow. You can’t help laughing as she says that. “God, are you always this negative?” You tease, giving her a little push. She rolls her eyes as she scrunches her nose, sticking her tongue out. 

You continue talking until the sky becomes dark. Paige looks out the window, a slight frown growing on her face at the thought of having to leave. “Do you wanna stay the night?” you ask nonchalantly, but you feel your heart beat a little faster. Her bright blue eyes find yours immediately as she looks to see if you’re joking. “Yeah, sure, if that’s cool with you,” she says as she fiddles with her necklace. You smirk at how nervous she seems. “I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t, now would I?” She slaps your arm lightly to shut you up. “Go ahead and grab some clothes from my closet,” you tell her, hopping into your wheelchair to go get ready for bed in your bathroom.

When you return, you freeze for a moment, your heart swelling at the blonde dressed in your clothes. When she looks over at you, you start moving again, letting her use the bathroom as well. A few minutes later, she returns, looking around a little sheepishly. You pat the bed next to you, sending her a calming smile. You continue talking a little longer, but slowly feel your eyes grow heavy. You fall asleep to Paige’s tired mumbling. The last thing you remember is a soft hand grabbing yours, entwining your fingers before you doze off.

After that night, your relationship with Paige changes. You feel like you’ve somehow become even closer to her and are happy to call her your best friend. You’re rarely seen without the other, always attached to the hip. You make sure to come with her to physical therapy for silent support, while she often joins you in the library as you finish another book on your list. Your favorite hangout spot is the coffee shop where you two properly talked for the first time. You make sure to go there every week, sometimes even being joined by the girls on the team (who you’d all gotten to know pretty well by now).

When the end of Paige’s recovery nears, you’re a little nervous. While you never blamed Azzi for getting too busy to hang out a lot after she recovered, you would still be upset if the same happened with the blonde. All your worries were for naught, however, when Paige continues to call you every chance she gets, sending you quick texts when she can’t. She often adds silly selfies as well, just to make you laugh.

You’ve known you’ve had a crush on the girl for a while now, but you never said anything. Paige needed to focus on getting better without any distractions. You also didn’t want her to think your whole friendship was based on you having a crush on her, so it was best you just kept quiet.

Paige, in return, was also too scared to tell you about her crush. She loved the friendship you two had and didn’t want to ruin it just because she’d caught feelings. She was afraid that every glance, every touch, and every soft smile was just you being a good friend. She couldn’t bear to lose you after everything you’d done for her, so she kept her mouth shut.

Azzi, being the observant friend she is, immediately knew about both of your feelings when she’d “caught” you two asleep on the couch, holding each other close. She made it her mission to get you two together. She started off by trying to convince Paige to confess, but that didn’t work out well, seeing as the blonde was too scared and always shrugged her off. Her next plan was to try to make you confess, knowing you were the bravest person she knew. That sadly also didn’t work, seeing as you were too considerate of others to think about your own feelings when you knew Paige could end up getting hurt. 

So here she was, back on plan A. “Come onnn, P, she’s head over heels for you, I’m telling you!” The blonde rolls her eyes so hard it gives her a bit of a headache. “Azzi, please, we’ve been over this before, let it goooo,” Paige groans, feeling butterflies flutter in her stomach at the thought of you liking her back. “No! I’m not gonna let this go. You two mean so much to me, I just want you guys to be happy,” she says with a sad pout on her face. Paige lifts her head from where she’s lying on her bed to look at the brunette, and groans again at the kicked puppy look on her face. She could never say no to her when she made that face.

Paige sighs and stares at the ceiling for a moment. “...How sure are you?” She mutters, looking over at Azzi with desperation in her eyes. The brunette gives her a soft but excited smile. “110%, P. You know I wouldn’t say this if there was even a slight chance I was wrong.” The blonde’s cheeks turn a soft pink as a happy yet slightly embarrassed smile shows on her face. “Okay then, how do we do this?”

You’re hanging out with a friend when you hear the familiar ringtone go off. You excuse yourself for a moment, picking up the phone. “What’s up, P?” You grin. “Hey Y/N/N!” You can hear the smile in her voice. “You’re coming to our next game, right?” she asks. “Uhm, hello? It’s your first game back on the court, of course I’m coming,” you tease, sounding slightly offended she felt like she had to ask. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she chuckles, “jus’ wanted to be sure.” “I’ll be your biggest cheerleader, don’t even worry about it,” you promise. “Ight, I’ll hold you to that,” she replies before you two say your goodbyes.

When the day of Paige’s first game back arrives, you know the blonde is bursting with nerves. You meet up with her before the game to wish her good luck and to encourage her. Her leg shakes up and down as she bites her nails. Her eyes flit around the room as she nods along to what you’re saying, but you know she’s not listening. You roll closer to her, grabbing her hand and pulling it away from her mouth. You give it a gentle squeeze as she finally looks at you. “Don’t worry so much, P. You’ve been working your ass off for this moment, and you’re gonna do great, okay?” you say, trying to reassure her as much as you can. Her shoulders loosen as she finally takes in what you’re saying.

“Thanks, Y/N/N,” she mutters with a small smile. You give her a wink before you leave to wish the other girls good luck and to find your spot before the crowd starts filtering in. While Paige is extremely nervous about her first game back, she’s more nervous about what’s going to happen at halftime. She really hopes she won’t embarrass herself. She walks back over to her team, quickly going over everything again to make sure everything would go exactly the way she’d planned. 

The first quarter of the game flies by before she even knows it. She already scored 12 points, giving UConn the advantage. As she sits on the bench, listening to coach Geno, she looks around. Her eyes immediately find yours as you send her two thumbs up. She grins before locking back into the game. 

The second quarter goes by even faster, making Paige’s stomach clench with nerves. They were now 9 points ahead, so it was still anyone’s game. First, however, it was time for halftime. 

The blonde wipes her sweat on a towel, looking over at Azzi. The brunette gives her a reassuring smile before walking over to you. You don’t expect her to walk over but smile at her nonetheless. “Hey Y/N/N, how much do you trust me?” she grins. You raise an eyebrow at her, but the smile on your face doesn’t disappear. “With my life,” you reply. She sends you a beaming smile, giving your shoulder a squeeze as she wheels you onto the court. You chuckle as you ask her what’s going on. She simply says, “You’ll see.” 

Paige walks up to you, fiddling with her hands nervously. She bends down on one knee and starts talking, her voice quivering a little. “Y/N… I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” You open your mouth to tell her off, but she holds up her hand before you can say a word. “I know, I know, I don’t need to thank you… but I want to. When you entered my life, I was going through a very difficult time. I felt like I was drowning on dry land… But you? You were like my life buoy, not letting me sink. You’re this amazing, strong person, and you’ve made me want to be like you. To never give up and to look at life in a positive way, even when things go wrong.” She swallows harshly. You grab her hand and give it a squeeze, speechless at the girl's words. Your chest feels warm as your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of its cage.

“The past few months have meant more to me than you could imagine, and… I fell for you harder than I thought I ever could… So… I want to ask you this,” she says, still nervous but a bit more confident as she sees the adoration in your eyes. She stands up and accepts the flowers Nika gives her. She hands them to you as she steps aside. 

Your eyes tear up as you see the scene in front of you. The whole UConn team, as well as the opponent's team, are standing there. All holding various items. A few girls are holding cardboard signs with the words “Will you go out with me?” on them. Your free hand flies to your mouth as you look up at Paige. The blonde is already staring at you lovingly with a soft smile. You chuckle at the amount of love you’re feeling right now as you nod your head at her. You can barely hear the crowd cheer around you as you feel your blood rushing in your ears.

The star player’s smile becomes even wider as her eyes crinkle. She grabs your hand, placing a kiss on it as all players start making their way towards you. You get handed all kinds of gifts from the blonde. Your favorite book annotated by her, a Lego set you two had talked about getting, a new pack of expensive pencils, a guitar pick maker, and a bunch of other things. You feel so incredibly seen by her that you find it hard to keep your tears at bay.

Once you’ve received all the gifts and thanked Paige a bunch, you make your way back to your seat. You hear a few “congrats” aimed your way as fans smile widely at you. When you turn back to the court, you see the blonde already looking at you. She sends you a flirty wink, making you chuckle as you shake your head in amusement. While the circumstances of you two meeting weren’t the best, you thank your lucky stars that the universe guided you to the Paige Bueckers. UConn’s star player. The golden student. The future of women’s basketball. A legend in the making. The girl that stole your heart but gave you hers in return.

[corpsedogs]

✿ just this once.

jason todd x f! reader

( ♡ he lets you experiment on his face )

You were sitting in front of your dresser, doing your usual skincare for the day. Behind you was Jason, laying down on your bed and reading something in his hands.

You glanced at him from your mirror. The blankets were pulled up on his lap as the lamp was faced towards the book in his hands to help him read clearly. His white streaks were slightly messy, as it stood up on his forehead.

Then your eyes trail on his face, the lamp softly dimmed on his face as you looked at it for a moment. Then, your eyes trail on your skincare products then an idea lit in your head.

“Jason?” you called his name, watching as he looked at your direction.

His eyes went from your book in his hand to your reflection in the mirror. He closed his book and placed a bookmark on a page. “Yeah?” he answers back.

You held your smile as you pretended to ponder a bit, you turned your seat to look at him with a small smile. “Can I do something? It’s not much.” you asked him, Jason raised his brow, curious on what you were plotting.

"Depends on what it is," Jason replied, his eyes flickering with curiosity as he looked back at you. "What did you have in mind?"

“Depends,” Jason replies, placing his book on the side of the bed, “Do I need to get up?” he asks. You only shook your head as you got up and took your skin care bottles, “No, it's alright.”

He watched as you took your skincare products as he automatically shifted on the bed to make room for you, “Alright,” he said “What are you doing?”

You hummed as you made your way to the bed, placing your skincare products on the soft mattress. “Can I put these on you?” you asked with a smile on your face.

Jason furrows his brows as he looks at the bottles then you with a funny expression, “You want to put a bunch of sticky stuff on my face?” he asked as he tilted his head to the side a bit. “You’ll look real better.” you replied, “Come on, it’ll feel real good.” you coed as you scooted closer to his side.

Jason couldn't ignore the feeling stirring in his chest as you scooted closer to him. Your smile was infectious, and it made his stern expression soften slightly. But he still wasn't completely convinced. "I don't know if I want to walk around with a bunch of stuff on my face."

You slightly frowned as leaned your chin on his shoulder, “It’s just this once. I won’t do it again.” you said, looking at him with those eyes.

Jason looked at you for a moment as he watched your pleading look, then finally he gave up and sighs. "Fine," he conceded, "Just this once. But if it makes me look like a weirdo, you're going to hear about it for days."

You beamed as you got up from his shoulder and began to sort through your products. As you splatted some liquid in your hands you looked up at him, “You won't regret this I swear.”

"I sure hope I won't," he scoffed. "Just make it quick, I don't have all day." You then beamed as you started dabbing and smearing products all over his face. Jason couldn't help but wince, the sticky, sticky texture felt foreign on his skin, and he found himself flinching every now and then.

"This is really weird," he grumbled, yet his tone was laced with a bit of amusement “How much longer do I have to put up with this?" You only hummed as you placed some more moisturizer on his face, “It takes like fifteen minutes. Just relax.”

Honestly, you were surprised that he easily said yes. He wasn’t one to judge you whenever you use some skin products. If ever, you were really happy that he said yes. “Why do you keep flinching?”

“Ever got condiment on your face?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes “You can’t possibly compare this to condiments.”

"Can't I? It feels just as weird," he retorted, he didn’t mean it though, he kind of likes this. You ignored his retort as you went over your pouch to find something. Jason peeked at whatever you were looking for, god hopes it isn’t anything ridiculous.

“And what is that?” he points as you took out a sachet. You turned to him with a small “Face mask.” you replied as you began to tear the sachet off.

Jason's eyes widened a bit as you tore the sachet open and revealed a face mask. "You're really going all in, huh?" he crossed his arms. "And what am I supposed to do with that thing on my face?"

You begun to place the mask over his face, “Nothing, you just wait till your face feels fresh.” you answered him, “besides, this is my last one so I’m gonna use it on something productive.”

Well.. Jason couldn’t argue with that logic. He slouched his shoulders as he accepted his face, staying still as you placed the mask on his face. He took the opportunity to steal a glance at you, he saw your eager and determined look and he can’t help but think its endearing.

When he was distracted, you couldn’t help but snap a photo of him. When he was distracted, you couldn’t help but snap a photo of him. His eyes suddenly darted to you for a moment, noticing the flash from your phone.

"Are you taking pictures of me now?" he frowns. You only smiled to your phone as you looked at the photo, “If I take a picture, it’ll last longer.” you said.

Jason huffs as he looks at you in disbelief, what is he going to do with you? "Show me.” he says, reaching out for your phone. You gave him a mirror instead, “No way you have that.”

Jason took the mirror and took a look. His reflection looked so.. unamused? The face mask covering his face and the expression he was wearing didn't help in making him feel any less like an idiot.

He looked up at you, raising an eyebrow.

"Do I really look like this?" he asked. “You can take it off now if you want.” you replied. As he removed the mask and threw it on the trash bin beside him, he took the mirror again and looked at himself.

You peeked on his side, looking at him “What do you think? You look nicer now right?” Jason inspected himself in the mirror, tilting his head from side to side as he observed his reflection.

"I think I actually look a bit less like a complete lunatic," he admitted. "You're right, I do look a bit nicer now.”

He couldn't deny the small pang of joy he felt from seeing you happy and content. He couldn't explain why, but.. seeing you enjoy something as mundane as applying clay textures on his face made him feel a little warmth in his chest.

It was stupid but still.

"You're really into this skincare stuff, huh?" he says, leaning on the headboard as he watches you fix yout stuff. “Not so,” you replied. “I just like it when you let me do stupid things.”

"Stupid things, huh?" he repeated, “So you think this whole skincare thing is stupid?" you shrugged, “It probably is to you.” Jason scoffed, he never thought he would be sitting around letting someone apply skincare on his face.

You chuckled at his scoff, “What I’m saying is.. you’d let me do anything to you which is nice.” you said, “You always do.”

His expression softens you. he admitted, his tone genuine. "Well, its cause I don't mind. I just don't want you to expect I'll say yes every time, alright?"

“I’ll try.” you replied.

🍓 my first fic!! please reblog and comment, it helps a lot

[malk1ns]

january 14 vs kraken, 4-2 loss

i'm tired of this grandpa!!!!

some notes on this one: werewolves, branding, ownership, and a power imbalance that i think everyone is ultimately quite happy with.

It took a great deal of cajoling for Sid to sign off on Zhenya’s return to play for their last game in the homestand. He’d been buzzy and overprotective the entire week Zhenya was out, and add in that the full moon was the night before, the Wolf Moon at that…Zhenya did as much groveling and begging and incentivizing as he could, but he’d honestly expected to sit this one out too. Sid signing the papers allowing Zhenya to play had been a surprise the morning of the game, waiting for him next to the coffee machine when he stumbled downstairs before morning skate.

Zhenya stares at it for a minute, blinking sleep out of his eyes. Written English always takes a while to register when he first wakes up, but he’s just figured out what it is when Sid’s palm closes around the back of his neck.

“If you’re good,” Sid says, shaking him lightly. Zhenya lets his head loll forward, dropping his shoulders down. Sid’s hand on his neck feels amazing, better now than it ever has before. He wants to roll over and show his belly.

“But,” Sid continues, digging his nails warningly into Zhenya’s skin, “if I find out you’re lying about being ready, if you hurt yourself again, I won’t be happy. Alright?”

Zhenya’s right hand moves instinctively to his right wrist, touching the bandaging still wrapped tightly. “Yes,” he says breathlessly, fighting off the lassitude that always comes when Sid scruffs him like this. “It’s good, I’m play.”

“Good boy,” Sid says, shaking him once more before letting go.

It takes Zhenya a while to collect himself before he can start making his coffee for the day.

—

The training staff whisks Zhenya away as soon as they arrive at PPG. Sid doesn’t like it, Zhenya can tell—it’s still so strange, being able to feel what Sid feels—but when it comes to medical stuff he can’t override anyone about Zhenya, so he just frowns after them as Zhenya shoots an apologetic grimace over his shoulder.

He’s marched directly to Vyas’s exam room, sitting quietly on the table as Kevin tugs at his sleeve and unwinds the bandage.

The brand is still shocking to look at. It’s starting to scab over, enough so that Zhenya isn’t worried it will rip off every time he makes a fist, but it’s livid and red over his veins, dark and ugly on his winter-pale skin.

Zhenya loves it.

He’s been begging Sid to brand him for years, ever since Sid took over his contract halfway through the one he signed in 2013 and moved Zhenya in. Sid had been hesitant about the responsibility, but over the summer when he was working out the details of his own new contract something shifted, and when training camp started he told Zhenya he’d do the brand in January.

Zhenya didn’t know why he picked January, and it wasn’t his place to ask. He was just happy Sid decided it was time.

Kevin’s touch as he probes the wound feels wrong, but Zhenya holds still, grimacing when Kevin pats ointment into the scar.

“Looks good, G,” Kevin says, touching Zhenya’s shoulder. “Congrats. I’ll go grab Doc—do you have your form?”

Zhenya nods, fumbling for his wallet as Kevin exits the room, shouting for Dr. Vyas as he half-closes the door behind him.

A few staff members peer in curiously as Zhenya waits, clutching the signed return-to-play form in one hand. Normally he’d wave or make small talk, but he looks down whenever someone pops their head in, turning his arm so the brand isn’t visible.

It’s private. He doesn’t want any random person getting a look at it.

When Vyas enters the room, he at least thinks to shut the door before making his way to Zhenya’s side.

“Geno,” he says warmly, taking Zhenya’s left and and turning it palm-up so he can see Zhenya’s wrist. “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you and Sid, I know how long you’ve been waiting for this. And he signed off on you playing tonight?”

“Yes,” Zhenya says, thrusting the form at Vyas. The paper is wrinkled, but the signature is unmistakable. “He gives to me this morning to bring.”

“Mmhm,” Vyas hums, looking the form over. “Okay, good. Gonna have to get used to that, big guy, you’re not gonna be able to so much as get your Toradol without his sign-off now.” He chuckles, setting the paper aside and pulling a stool up. “Alright, let’s take a look. At first glance it seems like you’re good to go, but I just need to confirm. Oh, and you’ll have to take it easy on faceoffs tonight. I’ll tell Mike, but probably only every other one as the scar gets used to the movement again.”

Zhenya nods, but his brain fogs over thinking about Sid having to sign off on his medication for the rest of his life. The haze lasts for his whole exam, and when Vyas slaps his back and sends him on his way, he barely makes it to the lounge without needing to sit down.

—

Zhenya wants to fool around when they get back from morning skate, but Sid insists on going down for their nap early, tucking them together and passing out almost immediately with his hand heavy on Zhenya’s neck. Zhenya takes longer to fall asleep, but eventually he slips under too, lulled to sleep by Sid’s whuffling snores.

Sid rushes them through their pre-game rituals, hustling Zhenya into the car a full 15 minutes earlier than normal and refusing to provide any explanation, even when Zhenya makes big eyes and pouts. They’re not even early, though—the entire team is already there when they arrive, milling around in their base layers and sucking down last-minute protein shakes.

Sid does the rounds while Zhenya sits quietly in his stall. It took a while to remember where he sits now—when Sid told the team he was going to be branding Zhenya sometime this season they moved him over to Sid’s left, and for the first month and a half Zhenya went on autopilot to his old spot. Sid was understanding, but OC, who’s sitting where Zhenya used to, made fun of him every single time.

A few of the guys stop by to say hi, but for the most part they leave him alone, and Zhenya zones out. He doesn’t even tune back in when Sully steps into the room and starts his pre-game pep talk; he’s heard it hundreds of times by now, it’s the same three variations every game.

He snaps back to attention when Sully ends with, “And we have a pretty big milestone tonight. Sid?”

Sid steps to the front of the room, grinning so big his eyes disappear when the whole team bursts out into whoops and catcalls. Karl puts his pinkies in his mouth and whistles piercingly, loud enough that the guys near him wince and slap at him until he stops.

“Thanks, guys,” Sid says, loud enough to be heard over the ruckus, and everyone calms down. “This has been a really big week for me, and I really appreciate everyone who stopped by to check in. It’s something that’s maybe a little overdue—” Kris interrupts him to shout “A little?!”. A bunch of guys break out into laughter, and Sid rolls his eyes. “—thanks, Kris—anyway, it’s been a long time coming, and your support means the world to me and G.” He pauses, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a thin box. Zhenya’s heart almost stops. “So, it’s G’s first game back, which means he gets to wear a collar now. I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather share this with then all of you.”

When Sid crosses the room to stand in front of Zhenya, the team bursts into applause.

“Hey, baby,” Sid says quietly, reaching down to card his hand through Zhenya’s hair. “You good?”

Zhenya’s frozen, every muscle tense at the surprise and the focused attention of his entire team. He’d forgotten about the collar, but now that he’s been reminded, he can’t look away.

Sid skates his fingers over the side of Zhenya’s throat, pulling back so quickly that Zhenya leans forward involuntarily with a distraught little sound. Sid laughs, but it’s not mean, and he holds the collar up. “Let me get this on you, sweetheart, you’ll like it. Alright?”

Zhenya nods, but he doesn’t need to—Sid’s already slipping the collar around his neck, buckling it at the front.

Zhenya doesn’t even know what it looks like. It’s dark leather, he registered that much, but he doesn’t know if there’s writing on it, or a design. It doesn’t matter—Sid likes it on him, if the look in his eyes is any indication, and that’s all that Zhenya cares about.

“It’s good?” he asks just to be sure, craning his neck to one side and peering up at Sid through his eyelashes. 

“Looks so good, G,” Sid says huskily, running his finger along the top. “Maybe I should have done this at home after all.”

—

Zhenya feels the weight of the collar all throughout warmups. Turbo yells something at him from across the ice, but he focuses on settling back into his routine, on stretching and puck-handling and always, always watching Sid

He downs half his Gatorade in the room before they line up for puck drop, then stands next the door shifting from skate to skate as everyone falls into their places in line.

He and Sid are last, like always. They both slap Tanger on the shoulders as he makes his way between them out the door, then Sid steps close to Zhenya, grinning up at him as they go through their handshake.

Normally after the chest tap, Sid would turn to leave the room, Zhenya would smack his calf with his stick, and off they’d go. Today, though, Sid shakes his glove off, reaches up, and twists his fingers in Zhenya’s collar, tugging hard at him until Zhenya bends down.

Sid doesn’t even say anything. He doesn’t need to. Zhenya knows how he feels, can feel it rising as if they’re his own feelings.

One side of Sid’s mouth quirks up and he lets go, turning to head out.

Zhenya stumbles after him. He doesn’t slap Sid with his stick—he’s afraid any impact would send it clattering to the floor from his suddenly nerveless fingers.

—

Halfway through the first period, Zhenya realizes he forgot to tell Sid that Vyas told him he wasn’t allowed to take all his faceoffs tonight.

The trainers spend more time hovering over Zhenya’s shoulder than normal, and Zhenya tolerates it, pulling his sleeve up when asked so they can check the bandaging. He can feel Sid getting more and more wound up as the period drags on, but he chalks it up to the razzing he’s getting from the Kraken—Zhenya heard Oleksiak yell something about Sid finally getting his hound on a leash earlier.

Zhenya doesn’t care. He’s heard it all over the years. Officials look the other way on wolf-slurs. It used to piss Sid off something crazy, but even he’s able to blow it off more now. Zhenya’s surprised Big Rig is getting him so worked up.

He figures out just how wrong he is when they troop off the ice at first intermission and Sid yanks him so hard into a supply room that Zhenya’s shoulder nearly dislocates.

“Sid,” he complains, but Sid yanks Zhenya’s left glove off and shoves up his sleeve without a word.

He’s boiling mad, and Zhenya wants to cower, wants to pin his ears back and tuck his tail between his legs and whine for forgiveness—except he doesn’t know what exactly he did.

“You promised,” Sid grits out, stroking over the bandage. It’s clean and relatively dry, Zhenya’s pleased to note—he’s been twirling his wrist around when he’s on the bench like Vyas suggested, to help stretch the skin, and it looks like that hasn’t aggravated any bleeding. “You promised me you felt okay, that you were ready to play tonight. Did you lie?”

“No!” Zhenya yelps, yanking his arm from Sid’s grasp. “Sid, I’m say to you it’s fine, like, doctors say it’s fine, why you’re like this?” He’s seesawing between his own rising anger and an instinctive need to cower and make nice, and the extremes are making him queasy.

“You’re not taking your faceoffs,” Sid snaps, taking a step back. The sudden distance leaves Zhenya cold, but he forces himself to stand still. “I’ve been watching. You’re skipping half of them.”

And, oh. Zhenya might be many things; a liar isn’t one of them, but forgetful certainly is.

“It’s part of plan,” he says, slouching his shoulders and shuffling closer to Sid. “I promise, Sid, Vyas says to me this morning, it’s for be safe, take care since it’s first game back. It’s not because I’m hurt, like, try to do to much. I forget to say to you, I’m sorry, but you ask Vyas, he’s tell you it’s true.”

Sid’s quiet for a minute, but Zhenya can feel his anger start to ebb. “You swear?” he finally says, voice softer than before, and Zhenya takes the opening to sidle up to him, pressing their bodies together. “If I really go ask, he’ll tell me exactly what you said, you’re not just making this up to get out of trouble?”

“I swear,��� Zhenya says fervently, and he feels it when Sid believes him, practically whimpering at the cool wash of relief.

“Okay,” Sid practically whispers to himself, no more than a breath of sound in the room that Zhenya latches on to regardless. “Okay, okay.”

He reaches up to tug at Zhenya’s collar. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says soothingly. “It’s just…I feel like I have to watch you every second. I didn’t realize how intense this would be.” Sid blows out a breath. “I didn’t mean to yell.”

Zhenya’s already forgiven him. He’s embarrassingly, fawningly glad to be back in Sid’s good graces.

He wishes he could change, slink down into his wolf form and wind himself between Sid’s legs and pant at him until Sid laughs and bends down to scritch between his ears.

Unfortunately, they have two more periods of hockey to play.

[alicefromwhichplanet]

(For the kids)How do you feel being your parents’ child? What kind of person is your carrier/sire?

Skystrophe:

Oh, these questions are… unusual. (Look around anxiously) So am I allowed to say anything..? Will they watch this show…? Ok…

I wanna say that many bots say it’s lucky for me to have Optimus and Megatron as my parents… but the truth is, having them as parents really brings me a lot of pressure. It’s… not so easy to be the only child of two extraordinary people, and you know you’re not so extraordinary yourself. I mean, I am only “just ok” at many things they can easily do great. It’s just… I’m still trying to figure out.

My carrier is a very strong bot. By that, I mean he’s powerful, not only in battles and strategies, but in the will. I think there’s nothing in the world that can defeat him, or make him feel defeated. When he’s with us, he’s always happy, confident, full of energy. When sire feels unsure, he is there to boost his spirits. When I feel insecure, knowing that he is there for me, always makes me feel better.

My sire, on the other hand, is umm, stricter. I know he means well. He told me all about those stories of heroes and primes, and responsibility comes with strength. He’s a lovable bot, of course. And he’s gentle with me. It’s just, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the way he talks. He makes me feel… nervous.

Jinglestorm:

Being my parents’ child, it’s a lot of fun! They both like to play, so I’ve got plenty of time playing with them. We go racing on the plains, have a picnic in the woods, or play chess and other board games at home. Oh! And they love video games too! We also play video games.

And my sire, he’s a wonderful bot. He’s fun, energetic. He talks a lot, which is sometimes a little bit annoying. Hmm. But he’s actually the decision maker in our house, kind of? Him and my carrier take turns being the brain. But because of my carrier’s “unstable” issue, sire did play the brain most of the time, though he sometimes came up with bad ideas and I had to stop him from dragging us all in.

My carrier is— very well known among us kids. The cool triple changer, the only one alive by now.* He is also not very stable, and we know that. Besides that, my carrier went through a lot in past wars. Sometimes he’s still haunted by his past ghosts. But he doesn’t need to worry, because I am always there for him.

*It’s my headcanon and part of the plots of Heroic Nonsense, where Blitzwing’s triple changer form came from a secret experiment project carried out by autobots. The project failed because most of the subjects suffered serious complications— they developed split personality disorders and became overly aggressive and easier to get killed in the battlefield. Blitzwing is the only survivor.

Clobber:

Hmm, I don’t know. I guess I’m lucky to be my parents’ child. I’m happy and comfortable living with them. My parents knew each other for very long before I was born. They have a tacit understanding that made everything simple. We three are quite alike as well.

My carrier is the brain of our family. It’s easy to tell. Sire even calls her “General” as a loving nickname. And also, she’s really my role model. Her talents go beyond military strategies. She has wisdom and courage to deal with a lot of trivial stuff as well. As for my sire, he’s more of a kind-hearted, good tempered bot. He cooks really well and takes all the gardening work. By that I mean, work like making a fishpond in our backyard. More delicate job like planting is done by me. I heard that they were notorious decepticon war machines in the past. I always imagine how badass they can be! But I don’t have the luck to witness that. All I got are two big bots fond of their own hobbies and get along well with the neighbors.

Just for the reminder:

Skystrophe— Megatron and Optimus’s son, Megatron is the carrier

Jinglestorm— Blitzwing and Bumblebee’s daughter, Blitzwing is the carrier

Clobber— Strika and Lugnut’s daughter, Strika is the carrier

More worldbuilding see my fanfic Old World, New World

[arduousflame]

Ok, reworked that previous story to fit a bit better in Gwynn's story.

A bit on her background with Viago, and a bit on how messed up the Crows are.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucanis meticulously inspected and replaced the small vials he carried, each one as vital as a blade to an assassin like him. The glass was opaque, cork stoppers sealed with dark red wax to keep their deadly contents secure. His movements were methodical as he separated recently used vials from those that had expired. Only one or two were good enough to return, unaltered. The rest would need to be disposed of—safely.

Across the table, Davrin cleaned his gear with the steady hands of a seasoned soldier, though his eyes kept darting toward Lucanis.

“Careful with those,” Davrin warned, his tone light but edged with caution. “I wouldn’t want Assan getting into them. And you’d better wash your hands before you start on dinner tonight. Got it?”

Lucanis opened his mouth, a sharp retort ready to fire, but stopped short when he caught Rook’s gaze from the fireplace. Her single raised eyebrow said, Don’t you dare.

“Bellara’s cooking,” Lucanis muttered instead.

The elf snorted. “Thank the gods for small mercies.”

“How do you even keep them straight?” Davrin asked after a few minutes of working in silence, nodding at the vials.

Lucanis held one up, angling it toward the light. The faint, otherworldly glow of the Fade caught on tiny raised bumps on the glass surface. He ran his fingers over them, his touch precise and sure.

“By feel,” he replied. “Each vial is marked differently. Even in the dark, I know exactly which one to take.”

“Oh, oh!” Bellara leaned across the table, her curiosity lighting up her face. “Are the marks unique for each assassin, so no one else can use your poisons? I read a story about that once! Two assassins sent to kill each other fell in love, but the woman got wounded protecting her lover. When he tried to give her the antidote, he accidentally gave her another poison because their labels were different. She died in his arms.”

Davrin chuckled and shook his head.

“The poisoners and glassmakers would riot if that were true,” Lucanis said, laughing. “No, the vials are standardized. It’s the poison makers who set the marks.”

“In this case, Viago,” Rook said, stepping closer. She reached for one of the expired vials, her movements unhurried but deliberate. “Oh, he’s given you the good stuff.” She turned the vial over, examining it like an appraiser judging a rare gem. “This one’s a doozy.”

Lucanis plucked the vial from her hand, his eyes narrowing. “Careful with that.”

Bellara cocked her head. “I didn’t know you used poison. Doesn’t it burn off with spells?”

Rook’s smirk was slow and sly. “Oh, Viago never told you?”

Lucanis frowned. “Told me what?”

“That he used me as a test subject when developing new poisons.” Rook reached for another vial, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather.

Bellara and Davrin froze, staring at her in wide-eyed disbelief.

Lucanis, however, remained still, his grip tightening on the vial he’d reclaimed. “I’d remember if he had.”

Rook glanced up, the corners of her mouth quirking in amusement. “Would you, though?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, it’s a story,” she said, leaning one hip against the table. She pointed at the vial in his hand, her expression almost mischievous. “Want to hear what that one did to me?”

----

Viago slid the key into the lock, the faint click echoing in the stillness. He pushed the door open and stepped aside, gesturing silently for Gwynn to enter.

She hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. This room was familiar —but not for happy reasons. The shelves lined with bottles and vials, their contents shimmering in the dim light, bore the telltale marks of her Talon’s trade. The faint, acrid tang of herbs and chemicals hung in the air, sharp enough to catch in her throat.

The lab was sparsely lit. Two sconces on either side of the door cast a flickering glow, their flames shivering in the draft. Across the room, the fireplace smoldered weakly, its embers barely holding on. The light was insufficient, more for warmth than visibility, and the shadows cast by the low fire made the room feel smaller than it was.

Shelves crammed with potions, poisons, and the raw ingredients of both loomed around her. The bottles were meticulously labeled in Viago’s neat, angular handwriting, and though she knew there was an order to it all, the system remained a mystery. Like many fledglings before her, Gwynn had spent long nights pondering the riddle. Her best guess was a cipher, but she had no intention of asking Viago about his favorite book or an old love letter to confirm it. Some things were better left unsaid.

Behind her, Viago stepped into the room, the door shutting with a soft click. The sound seemed louder than it should have been.

He moved purposefully, turning the chair by the desk, the only table in the room, its surface cluttered with vials, burners, alembics, and a neat stack of labeled notebooks. With a faint scrape, he set a small stool in front of the chair, the one he used to reach the higher shelves.

"Sit," he said, his voice left no room for negotiation. He gestured to the chair. "And roll up your sleeve. Left arm. To the elbow."

Gwynn hesitated. She stood motionless in the center of the room, her hands curling into fists at her sides. The silence pressed in on her as she drew a deep breath, steeling herself. There were no pleasant memories here, there never would be. But the sooner they started, the sooner it would be over.

Finally, she moved, sliding into the chair and rolling up her sleeve. The cool air brushed against her skin, raising goosebumps. Viago, unfazed by her reluctance, was already moving about the room.

He crossed to the shelves with precise, practiced motions, selecting a small scalpel from the knife rack. A collection of hourglasses of varying sizes waited on the edge of the table, their glassy surfaces gleaming faintly in the firelight. He placed them carefully within reach before pulling down two vials from a shelf: one filled with a milky white liquid, the other slightly hazy.

The soft clink of glass against the table broke the silence as he set them down. Gwynn’s heart thudded in her chest, but she kept her face still, her breathing even. She knew better than to let her nerves show here.

One of the smaller hourglasses had already been turned, its sand cascading in a lazy spiral. The faint hiss of the grains marked the passage of time. Viago sat down on the stool in front of her, reaching for one of his well-worn notebooks. With a piece of charcoal in hand, he jotted down a few quick notes as the last grains fell, the sound of the charcoal scratching softly in the stillness.

When the sand ran out, he flipped the hourglass without hesitation, watching intently as the process repeated. Another series of marks filled the notebook. His movements were practiced, mechanical. Gwynn’s eyes flitted between the hourglass and his hand, her curiosity quietly bubbling to the surface. The steady rhythm of his work, combined with the solemn quiet of the room, felt both hypnotic and oppressive. Viago really was in his element here and whatever his intents, Gwynn knew a master of his trade when she saw one.

Perhaps it was her lingering gaze or the familiarity forged through countless hours in this room, but Viago noticed. When he finally looked up from his notes, his eyes met hers, and he offered an explanation unprompted.

“I need a baseline of your vitals,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Breathing, heart rate...”

As he spoke, his gloved fingers encircled her wrist with clinical precision, pressing firmly against the pulse point. His touch was cool, the leather a stark contrast to the warmth of her skin. The hourglass was turned again, the sand flowing smoothly into the lower chamber. He kept his eyes fixed on the glass, his movements deliberate and measured.

For a moment, Gwynn’s heart seemed louder than the hourglass itself, each beat thudding in her chest as if trying to escape his scrutiny. But Viago remained detached, focused, as though nothing in the world existed beyond the falling sand and the faint rhythm beneath his fingers.

“What’s this one supposed to do?” Gwynn finally asked, her voice breaking the silence just as the last grain of sand slipped through the hourglass.

“Incapacitate. But not kill.” Viago’s tone was calm, almost clinical, as he uncorked the vial of milky liquid. The sharp tang of its contents joined the cocktail of smells in the room. With his left hand, he pressed her arm flat against the table, reaching for the scalpel with his right.

“It’s designed to induce panic,” he continued. “Overwhelm the target. Make them feel like death is creeping closer. That kind of fear loosens lips. Makes them spill secrets.”

The scalpel gleamed as he held it to the soft skin near the crook of her elbow. The blade was steady in his hands, far steadier than her racing heart. His eyes flicked up to meet hers. “Ready?”

“You have the antidote, right?” Her voice wavered despite her efforts to sound composed.

“Have I ever let you down, Gwynn?”

“Everything has a first time...”

He didn’t reply. The blade pressed down, slicing a clean line through her skin. A sharp sting bloomed as a bead of blood welled up. Viago worked swiftly, turning to the vial. He let a single drop of the milky liquid fall onto the wound.

Gwynn hissed sharply as the poison seeped in. The pain was immediate, sharp, and fiery. “Is it supposed to burn like this?”

Viago didn’t answer. Instead, he turned two hourglasses at once, their sands beginning a synchronized countdown. His left hand returned to her wrist, his fingers firm against her pulse, and his eyes stayed locked on her—not with concern, but with unshakable focus.

The burning in her arm spread quickly, radiating out like wildfire. It seeped into her chest, her limbs, until her entire body ached as if it had been lit from within. Her breathing quickened, ragged and shallow. Instinct took over, and she started to pull her arm away, but his grip was unyielding.

“Fuck, Vi—” she gasped, her words hitching as the pain surged. “My heart... Are you sure this won’t kill me?”

“Your heart’s fast, but steady,” he said, his voice calm despite her panic. “It’s still beating, Gwynn. Take a deep breath.”

Viago’s charcoal scratched across the page in precise strokes, his notes growing longer as he worked. His focus never wavered, moving between her pulse, the hourglasses, and the faint sheen of sweat forming on her brow. Each detail seemed to matter to him, though he said nothing for a long while.

The silence stretched, broken only by the steady hiss of falling sand and Gwynn’s ragged breathing. He adjusted his grip on her wrist, his gloved fingers shifting slightly as though recalibrating. “Pulse is still strong,” he murmured, almost to himself, his tone clinical. “Faster than before, but steady. Good. That’s good.”

The burning in Gwynn’s arm had spread to her chest, and she clenched her jaw to suppress a groan. Her vision blurred at the edges, dark shadows creeping in with each uneven breath. “Viago,” she gasped, “I... I can’t— my heart..”

“You can,” he interrupted. He tilted his head toward the hourglass. “You’re still well within safe limits. Your heart’s working harder, but it’s not failing.”

Her free hand gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white. “It doesn’t feel safe,” she ground out.

“I know,” he replied, his voice maddeningly even. He reached for her wrist again, pressing his thumb against the pulse point while his eyes flicked back to the hourglass. The sand was running low. “You’re breathing shallow. Deep breaths, Gwynn.”

She tried, forcing herself to inhale deeply, but it felt like dragging air through fire. “It’s—too much,” she wheezed, her chest rising and falling in uneven jerks.

Viago’s gaze narrowed, his hand moving from her wrist to the base of her throat. His fingers rested there lightly, feeling the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath her skin. “Still consistent,” he muttered, turning the hourglass again. He leaned back, his sharp eyes darting over her face, her trembling limbs, the tension in her jaw. “Adrenaline’s spiking. No arrhythmias. You’re not crashing, Gwynn. Keep breathing.”

His detached tone should have been infuriating, but it was oddly grounding. She focused on the methodical way he turned the hourglasses, the practiced ease with which he made his notes. His presence, though cold and analytical, was unshakable.

“Burning subsiding?” he asked, his gaze flicking back to her.

“No,” she hissed. “It’s—getting worse. Vi, my chest—”

“I’m monitoring it,” he said, his tone sharper now. His hand returned to her wrist, holding her steady as she tried to pull away. “Your heart rate’s up, but it’s still strong. You’re not going to die.”

“How can you be so sure?” she snapped, tears stinging her eyes.

“I’m holding your pulse,” he said simply, his eyes meeting hers. “I’d know.”

The burning began to creep into her throat, and her breathing quickened again. “Viago, I swear—”

“Listen to me.” His tone was suddenly commanding, cutting through the fog of her panic. “You’re feeling the poison’s effects exactly as intended. It’s meant to mimic the symptoms of dying—tight chest, rapid pulse, burning in the veins. But it’s not killing you. Your vitals are telling me that your body is handling it. Focus on my voice. Breathe with me.”

He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and she tried to mimic him, though her breath hitched midway. His fingers remained firm on her wrist, anchoring her. “That’s better,” he said quietly.

The minutes dragged on, and she lost track of how many times the hourglass had been turned. Each time it emptied, he recorded something new, his notes growing denser with every pass. He shifted her wrist slightly, checking the veins along her forearm, and pressed his free hand to her clammy forehead.

“You’re peaking now,” he said after a moment. “The burning will start to ease soon. Keep breathing, Gwynn. You’re doing fine.”

Her limbs trembled, but the fire in her veins finally began to flicker and fade, leaving behind a heavy ache. She sagged in the chair, her head tilting back as she gulped in air. Viago’s hand lingered on her wrist, his thumb brushing over her pulse as if confirming its consistency one last time.

“It’s passing,” he said, his voice softer now. “Your vitals are stabilizing.”

She blinked up at him, exhausted. “You were watching me like a damn lab rat,” she muttered, though her voice lacked venom.

“I was keeping you alive,” he countered, his expression unreadable. “If I didn’t track every detail, I wouldn’t know how far I could push the dose. Or you.”

“Push me? I felt like I was dying, Viago.”

“And you didn’t,” he replied, his eyes locking on hers. “That’s what matters.”

Her breath hitched, and she shook her head faintly. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re resilient,” he said, turning to his notebook to scrawl one last note, before closing it. “We’re done for today.”

That was her cue to leave. This time, she practically fled the room, slamming the door closed on her way out.

----

Davrin’s gaze shifted between Lucanis and Rook as the story concluded. Rook stared into the fire, her face illuminated by its flickering glow. Whatever memories the tale had stirred, she seemed lost in them now.

“I can’t believe you’d call the Crows normal,” Davrin finally said, his voice sharp with incredulity. “You two do realize none of this is normal, right?”

Lucanis set the vials back down, his fingers lingering on the wax seals. He’d need a word with Viago when he returned. The older man had always preached reforming the Crows, making them something more than tools. But now? Learning this—knowing Viago had counted Rook -Gwynn-among his closest confidants, it painted a darker picture. Lucanis had spoken of a cruel childhood to the others, but Rook’s? Rook’s had been worse.

“That’s rich coming from a Grey Warden,” She muttered.

Davrin’s response came swift and sharp. “We drink from the poisoned chalice once, Rook. After that, my sergeant didn’t keep poisoning me to prove I deserved my place.” He tossed his cleaning rag aside and pushed back from the table, rising abruptly. “I need a minute to process this.”

Bellara, who had been unusually quiet, jumped up as if startled. “I’ll… I’ll get started on dinner.” Her voice was bright but forced, and she darted from the room before anyone could reply.

That left only Rook and Lucanis at the table. The silence between them stretched, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire.

“I— I didn’t know,” Lucanis began, his voice low. “If—”

Rook cut him off, her tone sharp. “If what, Lucanis? If you’d known, then what?” She leaned forward, her blue eyes boring into his. “What would you have done? Grandson of the First Talon or not, you’d have had no right to challenge another Talon. No say in how he governed his House, or how he used his Crows.”

Lucanis opened his mouth to argue but found no words.

Rook leaned back, exhaling a long sigh as she raked a hand through her hair. Her voice softened, though the weight of her words remained. “But it’s done now. And… in his way, Viago did it out of care.”

Her gaze drifted back to the fire, her features shadowed by the glow. The faintest trace of a bitter smile crossed her lips. “His way. Always his way.”

[lynnieverse]

undertow // collision

Rafe Cameron/OG Female Character

✰ first chapter!

✰ 3.8k words

✰ chapter song -> control by halsey

✰ tags: morally grey, one-sided rivalry, mystery, mutual pining, tension, redemption

✰ a/n: this is the first chapter of my fic I’ve been writing…let me know if you like it and want more!! thank you :)

Going back to Figure Eight was the absolute last thing Lennox Thornton wanted to do. She had escaped it for roughly three years, and now that she was back...she was less than enthused. Dragging all her bags up the driveway, she braced herself for seeing her family again.

The large white door of her parent's house swung open, revealing her beaming mother. Lennox was immediately engulfed in a bone-crushing hug, taking in a sharp breath upon impact.

"Lennox! You're home!" she gushed, pulling back slightly to get a good look at her daughter. Lennox noticed her lack of makeup, glasses, and blonde hair twisted up into a bun. That, along with the navy scrubs her mother was sporting, told her it was an in-office day at her practice.

"Hey, Mom," she smiled. "Gotta work today?" she was still holding on to her, like she was afraid she'd disappear.

"Unfortunately, yes. I have to head out right now actually, but I wanted to be home when you got here." Lennox smiled fondly at that; she loved her mom. If there was one thing she hated about moving away for college, it was the distance.

They both shuffled inside and Lennox took a look around, noticing more unfamiliar decor than when she was there last.

"Looks great in here." Lennox commented, earning a happy gasp from her mom.

"Thank you! I was trying something new." They chatted for a few more minutes before her mom made a face, seeming to remember something. She turned towards the stairs and yelled, "Topper get down here and say hello to your sister!" Turning towards Lennox, she went on to say, "He was taking a nap and told me to wake him up when you got home." Lennox nodded in understanding, shifting the bag on her shoulder uncomfortably.

Footsteps pounded against the floor above them and down the stairs; suddenly she was on the floor. Her bags splayed out around her as she tried to squirm out from under him.

"Topper!" She groaned, pinned to the ground. Their mom laughed and shook her head, ignoring her only daughter clearly dying in front of her.

"Alright you two, I've got to run, don't kill each other please!" she said before speed walking out of the house, Topper still crushing her on the floor.

"Hey, sis! How's it going?"

"It'd be a lot better if your fat ass wasn't on top of me," she groaned, definitely feeling bruises start to form. He laughed and jumped up, offering her a hand. As she steadied herself, and collected everything off the floor, Topper was practically bursting at the seams to tell her something.

"You ready for tonight?" he asked, clearly excited.

"What's tonight?" Lennox asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow at her brother.

"You. Me. Party." She internally groaned; this boy partied like it was his life support.

"Uh, no. I just got here, I'm exhausted."

"Oh come on! You've been gone for forever, and we can finally go out. Please?" He looked at her with puppy dog eyes, the ones he knew she couldn't resist. Lennox huffed and rubbed a hand down her face.

"Fine. But I probably won't stay long." Topper pumped his hand in the air in victory.

"Yes! I don't even care, we're going to have so much fun." Lennox chuckled, he was so goofy.

"Grab one of these and come on," she gestured to the bags surrounding them. Topper, for once, didn't even pull a face. He just did what she said willingly; it was every big sister's dream. He must have really wanted her at that party. She watched him carry her stuff up the stairs with ease, a brief moment of sadness hitting her at how grown up he was.

She hadn't been the best at coming home for the holidays recently, and he'd really shot up in the past couple of years. He actually looked like a man...gross.

They finally made it to her door, and he haphazardly threw everything on her bed. Lennox rolled her eyes, but followed suit, then collapsed on the ground dramatically. In her defense, there were a lot of stairs.

"Alright I guess I have to get ready for this party then...who's hosting?" she called up at him, squinting her eyes against the light. Topper scrunched his eyebrows.

"I actually have no idea, let me go figure that out!" Lennox snorted as he ran away, probably texting all his friends. She forced herself to sit up, looking around at all her luggage. She shouldn't have really been surprised, she had packed it all, but having to face it was a different story. She let herself have one breath before she got to work, the next hour a blur of hangers and storage bins. When she finally felt accomplished enough to move on, she got to work on her makeup, hair, and outfit for the party.

She was just finishing slipping on her shoes when Topper once again appeared in her doorway. This time he had donned a button down shirt and khaki shorts–the standard uniform for OBX. She grabbed her bag and stood in front of him expectantly.

"Ready?" he asked absentmindedly, typing something out on his phone. She hit the back of his hand, making him juggle the device before catching it.

He glared at her. "What was that for?"

"Get off your phone and be present, Topper," she scolded. He looked at her in disbelief, slowly sliding the phone into his pocket.

"Did you just go all 'Mom mode' on me?" he asked, voice rising in pitch. Lennox shrugged, shoving past him.

"Yep, now let's go." Still confused, Topper followed her to his Jeep, unlocking it quickly before they both hopped in. Lennox smoothed down her white dress and sat quietly as Topper peeled out of their driveway. The drive was mostly filled with music, until the route started to feel very familiar.

"Why are we driving towards the Cameron's house?" Lennox turned towards him slowly in her seat. Topper flinched slightly, guilt seeping into his expression.

"About that..."

"Nope, take me home." Lennox crossed her arms, shaking her head back and forth.

"Len, please."

"No, Topper! I refuse to step foot in the same room as him. I won't do it."

"Then I'll make sure he stays away. Please? It would mean a lot to me if you came," he glanced over to her, hopeful. She thought about it for a moment, weighing the pros and cons. She could let loose, have some fun with her brother, but she could also run into him.

Not wanting to rain on his parade, she conceded. "Fine. But you better keep him away."

"I will, I promise!"

Topper did not keep him away. Topper disappeared as soon as they entered the house. Topper was going to die tonight.

The Cameron's house was crowded to say the least. Lennox had bumped into countless amounts of people, and although she was tucked in a corner, she was no less than an arms length away from someone at all times. She had decided upon nursing her beer by herself, seeing as there were almost nobody she was friendly with there. Instead, she entertained herself with people watching.

Everyone was stumbling around, drinks sloshing out of their cups, or dancing to the loud pop music coming out of the speakers in the corner. Some couples were making out on the couches, and there was a beer pong table set up in the next room over, which she could see through the doorway. It was entertaining to say the least.

The only thing off about it was the heavy cloud that had been hovering over her all night. She hadn't seen him yet, but it was like she could feel his presence, suffocating her almost as much as the thick air. It was the anticipation that gave her goosebumps, knowing that at some point, he would have to make himself known.

"Princess! Funny catching you here." The deep voice came from her right side. Lennox cursed, closing her eyes briefly to collect herself. She should have known, speak of the Devil and he will appear. Lennox groaned and turned, narrowing her eyes at none other than Rafe Cameron.

"Fuck off, Rafe." He moved closer, towering over her with a much larger frame than when she left. Her heart rate stuttered as she looked up at him. He was wearing a white polo shirt and shorts, his hair was buzzed, and he was smiling at her wolfishly.

"Can't talk to me like that anymore, Princess. Haven't you heard? I'm crazy." He moved his finger in a circle by his head and rolled his eyes with a smirk, taking a sip from the solo cup in his hand. Lennox actually had heard of his behavior recently. It was one of the many things that worried her about Topper hanging out with him.

"I can talk to you however I want. You're all bark." Rafe snickered and looked away briefly before suddenly pushing up against her. The breath left her lungs as she felt his toned chest pressed to hers. His cologne filled her nose—clean and woody.

What was he doing?

His head lowered to her height, breath tickling her ear.

"That's what you think," he whispered, sending shivers down her spine. He gave her a once over before pushing off the wall, finally drifting back into the crowd. The interaction left her feeling exposed and alone, suddenly aware of every part of her body. He had always had a way of doing that to her–catching her off guard.

Lennox had disliked Rafe for as long as she could remember. There was no specific incident, not really, but she hated the way he treated people.

Nobody really remembered, but it was Rafe who started all the hatred between the Kooks and the Pogues. Sure, there had always been some tension, but it rarely ever went farther than some choice words. She remembered how he'd gone home the summer after fifth grade, a perfectly nice kid, but when he came back he had changed completely. He started influencing others to follow him, picking fights with kids from The Cut. Everyone listened to him because of his name. Lennox never bought into all that bullshit, and she'd always been better friends with the Pogues anyhow. That's when her beef with Rafe started, and she clearly still held a grudge.

Knowing her position had been compromised, Lennox decided to move outside, finding an unoccupied bench by the pool house. The humid air did nothing to help the stickiness of her skin, but she relished the faint breeze. Lennox's head fell to her hands, the alcohol flowing from her feet to her fingertips.

"Rough night?" a deep voice called from a few feet away. Lennox forced herself to look up, seeing a silhouette backlit in the yard. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place it. Whoever it was, they were walking closer.

"Uh, you could say that I guess." The mystery guy sat down on the bench, and Lennox straightened, suddenly much more aware.

"You don't remember me?" She nervously racked her brain, trying to place the voice; it was only when they locked eyes a breath of relief escaped her.

"Oh my God, little Rutledge, what're you doing here?" John B smiled and ran a hand through his hair.

"We're kind of crashing; Kie's parents made her come." Lennox laughed, of course they were. She marvelled at how grown he looked––a little worn, sure, but he looked good.

John B and the others held a special place in her heart. She was four years older than the group, but she babysat Pope when he was younger, and the rest fell in line. Of course, Sarah, she grew up with. She just couldn't believe they were all adults now.

"What're you up to now, any more treasure hunts planned?" John B laughed, a deep rumbling laugh she'd have to get used to. Topper had filled her in on a lot of the OBX drama via phone call while she was away, but she still had a hard time believing it.

"Definitely not. You didn't hear? I'm going to be a father." Lennox gasped, her eyes widening. John B, a dad? Was he not still a teenager?

"Oh wow, congratulations...who else knows?"

"Pretty much everyone. The group found out on our last...adventure," he shot her a look. "and Rafe was surprisingly cool." Lennox rolled her eyes at the mention of Sarah's brother. John B noticed immediately, snickering. "Still have it in for him, huh?"

"He's a dick. I don't like dicks." John B cackled. "You know what I mean!" she shouted before dissolving into her own fit of giggles.

"Well, that's no reason to isolate yourself from the party. Come hang with us, I know JJ would love to see you." He made kissy noises and dragged her to her feet.

"Oh please, I'm sure he's over his school girl crush by now."

"He is, him and Kie are going strong, actually." She raised her eyebrows, impressed.

"Unexpected, but hell yeah." They both head back inside, into the living room where the Pogues were occupying the sofas.

"Lenny?" JJ called, jumping up from where he was sitting. The other heads snapped in her direction, while she stood and awkwardly waved.

"The prodigal daughter returns!" JJ shouted, running over quickly to wrap her in a bear hug. She grunted in surprise at the force, but wrapped her arms around him.

"Hey, JJ, I missed you," she smiled from ear to ear. As he stepped back, Lennox noticed a faint blush on his cheeks. She glanced over to Kie who just rolled her eyes.

"JJ, get back over here," she shouted, but there was no anger in her tone, only fondness.

Lennox chuckled and took a seat next to Pope.

"Hey kid, how've you been?" Pope playfully rolled his eyes, holding out his hand for their not-so-secret handshake.

"Not a kid anymore, Lenny."

"Yeah yeah, sure P," she said, noticing an unfamiliar face on his other side. She had long braids and a lost look on her face. "Oh, I'm sorry. I don't think we've met!" she said, offering her hand. The girl shook it, smiling at her politely.

"I'm Cleo, nice to meet you." She had an accent, but Lennox couldn't place it.

"Nice to meet you too! How'd you get stuck with these goofballs?" Cleo looked down at her lap, chuckling softly.

"Saved their asses a few times." There were protests throughout the group, everyone starting to argue about who actually saved who. Lennox watched, laughing along with them.

"It's good to see y'all again, been too long," She said after everyone had gone quiet.

"What brings you back?" Kie asked, leaning against JJ. He tucked her into his side, kissing the top of her head. Lennox hesitated with her answer, not sure how to.

"Well, I graduated, so I'm officially ready to start taking over Dad's company." That had been the plan since she was an infant. Go to college, major in business, then integrate herself into Thornton Real Estate. Topper was meant to go to medical school, like their mother.

"That's awesome Len, are you excited?" Sarah asked, leaning forward to grab her hand. She was already glowing, and Lennox felt a burst of happiness for her friend.

"Yeah, of course!" she nodded, squeezing her friend's hand. Who wouldn't be, right?

The night progressed with endless chatter and the occasional drinking game, leaving Lennox very intoxicated and very happy. She had just finished telling each individual around her how much she loved them when her brother made his entrance.

"Lennox, what're you doing hanging out with the trash?" She rolled her eyes. Stupid Figure Eight boys and their stupid rivalry.

"Dude, just go back to the party," John B said, looking over Topper's shit already. She silently wondered everything that had gone down between them, knowing she didn't hear the full story from her brother.

"Why? 'Cause you said so? Nah, I'll pass." Lennox saw his eyes drift over to Sarah, a look of sadness in his eyes. But as soon as she noticed, it was gone, replaced by a cruel smirk.

Before John B could reply, she interjected. "Top, please. Not tonight. You're quite literally killing my buzz." Topper gave her a look, one she didn't catch due to her head spinning.

Despite her drunken state, she still saw Rafe lurking behind him and rolled her eyes.

"Whatever. I'm headed home anyway, let's go." Topper responded, clearly annoyed and obviously more drunk than she was.

"Absolutely not, neither of us can drive," she looked around quickly, trying to find anyone sober. All the Pogues had a beer in their hand except for Sarah, and she wasn't about to drag her away.

"I'll give you a ride, Princess." He was smug, arms crossed as he peered down at her.

"No," she spit, refusing to even look in Rafe's direction.

"Nobody else here is sober. I'm driving you home." Lennox opened her mouth to argue, but he was already walking away, dragging Topper behind him. She threw her hands up and stomped after them, throwing a quick goodbye over her shoulder.

"Rafe!" She called, trying to catch up. She must have screamed his name throughout the entire house before he finally turned around outside.

"Lennox. Will you stop being so goddamn stubborn for once in your life and get in the car?" Rafe said through gritted teeth. His jaw was set as he supported Topper's entire weight on his left side. Someone clearly decided to pass out as soon as he got outside. She huffed, but did as she was told, sliding into the passenger seat of his black Jeep. He wrestled Topper into the back, giving him a random takeout bag to hold onto, and jumped in the driver's side.

"I didn't think that would actually work," he said in disbelief, glancing at her. He shuffled some things around before twisting the key in the ignition.

"I'm nicer when I'm drunk. Listen better." She was starting to lose some of her cognitive thinking, because certainly she had not gotten in a vehicle with Rafe Cameron at the wheel. He gave her a once over before putting the car in drive and carefully exiting the neighborhood.

He was being nice. Well maybe not nice, but considerate, driving her drunk ass home.

No, Lennox, he is a bad person. He's doing this for Top, not you. He is an asshole.

She chanted those words inside her head, over and over, needing the reminder. Suddenly all thoughts of Rafe and his past transgressions started to flood her brain.

That time he humiliated JJ on the beach, bringing up his father and the new bruises JJ was sporting. How he used to pick on Topper, and now ropes him into all sorts of dangerous things. Every argument they had, every time he called her "Princess", it all bubbled up under her skin.

"You going to stop staring a hole into my head?" Rafe quipped.

"You are such an asshole," she narrowed her eyes, turning to face him.

"Why, for driving you home? I'm pretty sure that's the opposite of asshole territory."

"Not now, although I'm sure there's some ulterior motive, I'm talking about always." Rafe's jaw ticked and he shifted in his seat.

"You know what your problem is?" she slurred, her voice thick.

"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Lennox let out a sharp laugh, her head falling back against the seat. "You don't care about anyone. Like, at all. Not a single damn person." Rafe snorted, his gaze locked on the road.

"Is this supposed to be some drunken therapy session? If so, I'm not interested, Princess."

"No seriously," she sat up straighter, her words spilling out faster than she could think. "You think you're untouchable, so above everyone else, but you're not. You're miserable, and you make everyone else around you miserable."

"What the fuck did I do this time?"

"What haven't you done? You torment those poor kids! John B, JJ, Pope...even Kie! And for what?" Rafe scoffed, shaking his head.

"They're no saints, either. Maybanks held a fucking gun to your brother's head! You don't even know them." She didn't know about that; conveniently Topper left that out of their weekly phone calls.

"I don't have to know them," she shot back. "I see the way you treat people. The way all the Kooks treat people. They're just trying to survive on this shitty island, and you torture them for it! You're telling me you really had to almost beat Pope to death over a fucking boat?" Rafe looked surprised. "Didn't think I knew about that, did you? What is wrong with you?" Lennox was on a roll now, furious at the man beside her.

Rafe's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say a word. She kept going, her words tumbling out in a drunken blur.

"You drag Topper into your shit every single chance you get. He's supposed to be going to med school, not fucking around and taking the fall for you. And you don't even care what it's doing to him—or anyone."

"Alright Lennox, that's enough. You don't know what you're talking about," he growled, his knuckles tightening on the wheel. They swerve a bit, but he quickly corrects it. "You've been gone a long time, don't act like you know shit."

"Oh, don't I?" she shot back, her voice breaking slightly. "I've watched you ruin people, Rafe. You're reckless and selfish and cruel. You don't care about what it does to Topper, or Sarah, or—God, anyone who's stupid enough to get close to you." Her voice trailed off, and she turned to look out of the window. A flicker of regret flashed across his face.

"You're a black hole, Rafe. You suck the life out of everyone around you." Her breath fogged up the glass.

The car fell into silence, save for the low rumble of the engine. Rafe didn't say anything. Maybe he didn't know what to say. Or maybe he just didn't care.

Lennox let out a humorless laugh, leaning her head back against the window. "You know what? Forget it. I don't even know why I'm wasting my breath. Why do I even bother?" She crossed her arms and ignored him for the rest of the ride.

When they did arrive, she let him deal with Topper, immediately making a beeline for her room. She flopped on her bed, not bothering to undress and drifted off to sleep, leaving the most infuriating man she'd ever met behind.

[furiousgoldfish]

Write down some of your trauma symptoms that have gotten better, lessened, or you found ways to deal wit them so they're no longer debilitating for your life!

For me it's:

catastrophizing (learned to stop myself in 80% cases)

chronic pain (lessened, less flare-ups, still present but no longer debilitating to the point where I can't make plans at all)

anxiety (got compartmentalized with changing the host)

toxic shame (I rarely feel ashamed for what was done to me anymore)

self-doubt regarding the past (I can blame the perpetrators easily)

low self confidence (experience of getting things done has taught me of what I'm capable of)

negative thinking (I can catch myself and reverse it before spiraling)

panic attacks and seizure-like episodes (rarely have them, new host learned to stop them completely)

None of it is like it would be in a healthy person who has never been thru abuse, but compared to how bad it was, it's a huge relief to be in a better place regarding these issues, and opens the door to having a less uncertain and scary future. Write down your own, and what helped you make the progress!

[silusvesuius]

this tree from my new drawing looking goated afffffff 👑👑

[icewindandboringhorror]

"We can get through this by working together, reach out to your friends, community is all we have, a social network will be your security in the world, now is the time to lean on others!"

I do agree, and it's scientifically sound (pretty sure there is data about how people with better social networks live longer and etc) but also....augh..... what about the severe social issues, difficulty to leave the house, physical issues which lead to like zero socialization energy a majority of the time, etc. etc. Social support can be a replacement for structural support, but.. I guess I just wish it didn't have to be. Community is extremely difficult to build, even moreso if you're someone who has issues with social cues or group conversations or even just being around others in the first place. And blah, nuance, of course I'm just complaining or maybe being too negative or maybe misunderstanding, but, I hardly have the energy to brush my hair once every 2 months.. how am I supposed to maintain a wide social network and be active in a Community and Join Groups lol... sometimes it kind of feels like "er.. well if thats my only option then...... ruh roh". It's overwhelming

[frostbite-the-bat]

talked w/ a friend about this and wanted to post something similar yesterday after a convo i saw also

about people criticizing ttcc / ttcc fans for just... being cog fans? being cog centric? usually coming from people who only like the toons.

and everyone likes what they like! it's okay! but saying that people who like the cogs are horrible and support the bad things they do, is just blatantly wrong. i thought we knew that enjoying villainous and morally Bad / grey characters is... okay? it doesn't mean you support what they do. it's interesting to explore these topics.

i've seen many people just... paint anyone who likes the cogs as horrible because they're "apologists of x and y" and... i dunno. rubs me the wrong way! you do have a point and recognize the cogs do bad things, but liking them as characters means nothing about who you are as a person.

and this is not to say that people who are in toontown for the toons are bad. hell! they are right this IS toontown. i may be on the cog liker side but i like the toons! maybe ocs more than the npcs - mostly because i like my friends and the sheer creativity the toons can bring out!!

SO what i wanna say... i dunno. let's not point fingers...? let's have fun in a goofy cartoon game together??? also complaining about people liking VILLAIN ROBOTS on TUMBLR is kind of funny to me. do you realize where you are. but then again a lot of this i see on discord and in-game as well since i avoid things on tumblr... i am a sensitive little fella i avoid misty fight bc of One Really mean "Critic" guy i saw there and i have been shivering in my bootsies since. so you get me

but like yes ttcc is more cog centric but... that's okay? things could be written better and i still wanna speak on it, and i do thing the toons deserve attention and better writing... but the fact it focuses on the cogs isn't... bad? if you don't like how con centric it is you can go play ttr...? god forbid people have fun and explore the villain's side of things...? i'm not saying either toontown server is better or worse than the other... and everyone can like their own things!!

but like... people will just like the cogs and that's okay and it doesn't make you bad. let's all be friends okay? both sides may be going at each other's necks in-game and the cogs in fact do horrible things - but it's what makes them fun, and it gives the toons things to do in the game!! but we don't gotta !!!!!!!! i may be really sarcastic and sometimes mean in private but like that's me just privately sassing, deep down i think people should just... y'know..? enjoy things.

so yea that's the guzma / cathal thought of today. toon people cog people both people are all awesome as fuck and you keep doing what you're doing i love you toontown isn't toontown without you

[anaalnathrakhs]

"i thought you said you'd make an effort" MOTHERFUCKER THIS IS ONLY COMPLAINT #1 OUT OF A VERY LONG LIST JUST BE GRATEFUL I CAN WAIT UNTIL THE GUESTS ARE GONE TO SNAP

[neofelis----nebulosa]

saw a living oriole irl for the first time today!

[itsalwaysdark]

wait i just realized i dont have to spend my money on a recreational thing if i dont want to . brooo

[a-commas-a-pause]

For me, learning about the less-famous symptoms/presentations of autism cleared a lot of things up regarding this kind of experience. Plus realising that I'm just Way more prone to anxiety than most people and it's likely a brain chemistry thing that I can't really do much about. And also realising that even though I did have one of the most idyllic childhoods it's possible to have, no one goes through life without incidentally accruing little micro-traumas here and there. Especially if you're neurodivergent. Some of my worst childhood memories ever are things like... being told off by a teacher I respected. And I'm incredibly privileged for that! So many people have much worse memories. Most of mine are honestly things that simply Are Going To Happen Sometimes, Sorry. And I had to learn to deal with e.g. being rejected by someone whose opinion I valued. That's a universal human experience! It's part of life! But also - the fact I still remember those experiences years later means that they affected me strongly and it's ok for me to take that seriously and treat myself gently with respect to those memories. I am a very ✨ sensitive ✨ person and that has its benefits (tends to go hand in hand with perceptiveness, for one thing. Also I'm like 90% sure that it's not just the negative emotions that I get at extra high volume but also at least some of the positive ones) but it also has its drawbacks and those drawbacks are real and legitimate.

It's also actually been really worth knowing/accepting that I'm (heavy quotation marks) "sensitive". Because it makes it a lot easier to avoid harmful knee-jerk reactions. I have a conscious policy of keeping my emotional responses to things (often disproportionate, and wildly illogical) as far away from my irl actions as possible because I know there's often no particular foundation to my anxiety. Like I get where the ''trust your gut'' people are coming from - often your subconscious is telling you something useful - but personally I'm a big proponent of "trust but verify" when it comes to gut feelings. And not jumping to conclusions. Rather than wasting energy fighting my own mind with guilt about how I "should be" more resilient, I accept that I'm gonna be feeling a lot of feelings and as much as I'm able I account for that. I used to get in horrible arguments with friends and family because me emotions were just So Loud but I felt like I had to muscle through and continue a conversation because otherwise I'd be weak. I'm getting a lot better about Not doing that these days, and from the outside it seems like I've become a more chill person, but I really haven't. I'm still as much of a wound ball of stress as ever. I'm just consciously choosing to direct it differently - and giving myself more and longer breaks than I was ever allowed to have, back when I was on a strict school schedule.

Anyway I definitely don't have all the answers (or really any answers that you've not already thought of, I suspect) but you're not alone in this, I promise. It happens to me too.

Sometimes I get sad and frustrated thinking about how I had a normal childhood with good parents and incredible privileges and accommodations, and I avoided almost all common adverse and traumatic events, and yet my entire life has felt in my body like I'm being chased through a torture labyrinth by a hateful God

Like okay when i was like 10 I got a regular stomach bug while I was spending the night at mamaw's house and I had a full-blown trauma response to it. I started having panic attacks so bad I thought I was going to die. I remembered every single detail of the night I got sick and developed weird superstitions about objects I'd interacted with. I never wore any of the clothes I had been wearing ever again, except my socks, which I didn't touch for like. 6 or 7 years.

This wasn't an isolated incident. I have searched my memories desperately for some kind of deeper trauma that underlies the state of mental health disaster I've constantly been in as far back as I can remember, and I've got nothing. I was just born too psychologically fragile to be alive.

[estrellami-1]

Ok so I saw a post about Steve as a teacher letting his kids control his Spotify which means his Wrapped is All Over The Place but the top artist is Corroded Coffin and Steve finds out from the thank-you video that Eddie is hot. I see it, I love it, it’s inspired.

I’m thinking something… a little different.

“Alright, class!” Steve calls. “Marcus, it’s your turn to choose the music, right?”

“Actually, Mr. H?” Amber pipes up. “Spotify Wrapped came out today!”

Steve blinks. “Spotify… what?”

Marcus is nodding. “Spotify Wrapped! It tallies up what you’ve listened to and gives you stats and stuff. It’s cool!”

“Ah,” Steve says, nodding, squinting at his computer. “And I see that… how?”

There’s a cacophony of noise until Steve holds up a hand. Everyone quiets, and Becky holds her hand up. He nods at her. “It’s at the top,” she says softly. “Where your recently played is.”

He smiles at her. “Thank you, Becky.” He navigates to it, clicking on it and letting the graphic play.

Their genre, apparently, is soft grass indie metal. He’s entirely sure that’s made up. Their top artist, making up sixty-four percent of the music they listened to, is Corroded Coffin.

There’s a video; a little thank-you the band put together. It starts with Eddie up front, as the lead singer. Gareth, Jeff, and Freak are slightly behind him, grinning at the camera. Steve recognizes the background as Jeff’s living room. “Hi!” Eddie starts. “Thanks so much for listening to our music this year.”

“We couldn’t do what we do without you,” Gareth adds on.

“And everything we do is for you!” Jeff says.

“It’s totally metal of you to listen to our music, and we appreciate it!” Freak finishes. They all wave, and the camera cuts off.

Steve is… gobsmacked. He loves his husband, truly, but he looks so uncomfortable, and the way he’s speaking is weirdly stilted. He was not made to stand still.

He shakes his head, knowing he’s about to make Eddie’s year, and blow these kids’ minds.

Eddie had always been more vocal than Steve about coming out, saying fuck it to the consequences. Maybe being gay was accepted in the metal community, but Steve had been too new in his current job to even think about the jeopardy this could put his career in.

But honestly. That video was terrible, and his kids deserve better.

He sighs, raises a hand to get the class’s attention. “I know that was cool,” he chuckles. “But if you can be quiet and patient, I could get you something even cooler.”

“Cooler than a video from Corroded Coffin?” Nick asks.

Steve tilts his head. “Cooler than that video, at least.”

Nick doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?”

Steve just smiles. “How about we find out?” He puts a finger to his lips and FaceTimes Eddie.

He makes sure his volume is low, enough so that he even has trouble hearing when Eddie picks up.

“Baby!” Eddie exclaims, then clocks the background and is instantly worried. “Wait, you’re still at work. Are you okay? Is everything okay? Did you hit your head again? Do I need to come get you?”

“Christ, you’re dramatic,” Steve mutters, grinning wide. “I’m fine. I’m with my class, and we just finished looking at our Spotify Wrapped. Guess who our number one artist for the year was.”

Eddie’s eyes sparkle. He grins. Steve nods. “Corroded Coffin,” he confirms, then sighs. “I have to say, though, I was a little disappointed by the video.”

Eddie groans, throwing his head back. Steve gets a great view up his husband’s nose. “I know! I know, it sucked, but the guys were happy with it and it was, like, our eighth go, and-”

“I get it,” Steve promises. “But how would you like to one-up it?”

It takes Eddie a second, but his eyes gleam. “Are you sure? Your career-”

“Is stable enough now,” Steve finishes. “I’m sure. If you are.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mouths, conscientious of Steve’s class. “I love you.”

Steve smiles, blows a kiss to the camera. He gets a smattering of awws from some of his female students.

He figures out how to connect his phone to his computer to the screen, pushes the volume button up, and nods. “Go, Eds.”

Eddie grins and waves at the screen. “Hi, Mr. Harrington’s class! I’ve heard so much about you guys. It’s totally metal that you’re listening to our music—that’s something your teacher neglected to tell me.” He grins at the screen, a private thing for Steve, who dutifully rolls his eyes.

“I hear your music every day, Eds, forgive me if I don’t think anything of it when I hear it here and at home.”

“Mr. H,” Nathan asks in a pseudo-whisper, “how the hell do you know Eddie Munson?”

Eddie bursts out in a laugh. “You must be Nathan,” he says.

Nathan goes white, then pink. “H-hi, Mr. Munson, sir.”

“I think you should be their teacher,” Steve says, grinning first at Eddie, then his class. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Nathan say sir before.”

Everyone laughs—including Nathan—and Eleanor raises her hand. “How do you know him?”

Steve takes a breath, glances at his phone. Eddie’s smiling patiently at him, and Steve’s own smile grows as he answers her. “I’m his husband,” he tells her.

“Ten years and counting!” Eddie crows. “Though we’ve known each other for… twenty… something.”

Steve chuckles. “Twenty-three, Eds. If you count high school, which I don’t.”

“But I do,” Eddie nods. “Twenty-three years. And counting.”

Steve chuckles again. “And counting,” he agrees.

As his room explodes into noise, he looks back at his phone to find Eddie already looking at him.

That’s the way it goes, he thinks. Eddie saw him the whole time. It took Steve a while to catch up, but now that he has, he’s never been happier.

Twenty-three years and counting, indeed.

[wysteria-bloom]

↪" you amaze me "

Bg3 x reader

Giving them a surprise kiss

Warnings : suggestive on Halsin's part... Spoilers for bg3 (duh).

Genre : fluff

A/n : I have 367 hours in this game so I believe that I am worthy enough to write for these characters I love so very much. I am extremely open to requests for bg3 please send me all the stuff you want to see! I'm not gonna include minsc and jaehira for obvious reasons.

Characters : halsin, astarion, wyll, gale, gortash, rolan, raphael

▢ astarion

Leans into the kiss almost immediately. Its usually how he responds to any affection coming from you. Rests a gentle hand on your arm as he deepens the kiss with a pleased little smile on his lips.

When you break from the kiss, still has the smile on his lips, his eyes looking down at you softly, " can't get enough of me, darling?" He cooed out teasingly, a giddiness to him that wasn't there a few minutes ago.

You nip his jaw," stop getting cocky. I caught you off-gaurd, admit it."

He gasped in offence," and here I thought my beautiful partner was merely expressing how much they loved me." Shaking his head at you with an exagerrated pout," shame on you."

"... That's a 'yes'." You smirked.

"Oh shut up," pulls you into another kiss full of laughter.

▢ gale

Blinks for a good 5 seconds before finally responding to the kiss in full, hand curling through your hair to cup the back of your head. A wistful sigh blows through his nose as he leans into the kiss more.

When you pull away, he still holds your head. You smile happily at him," Hello, love." You greet cutely.

Sends you a bashful little smile, pressing his forehead to yours," Well... hello to you too."

"Were you surprised?"

"Oh-hoh?" He grinned with amusement," there was a goal behind all this?"

You tilt your head from side to side," eh... I did have one. But I also just wanted to kiss my handsome husband."

Clears his throat, cheeks warming," Oh, well consider me th..thoroughly surprised, then."

▢ wyll

It only takes him a second to respond to your kiss, cupping both sides of your face so gently and rubbing a thumb across your jawline. A small happy hum falls from his lips as he's kissing you.

When pulling away, his lips chase after yours, giving you a final little peck," You amaze me. Everytime." He breathed out, always has something cheesy to say after every kiss but it never fails to make your heart stutter.

You huff," You're impossible to surprise, yknow? You're too smooth."

He laughs," will it make you feel better if I said you gave me butterflies?"

A hum and then a smile you nodded to him," I believe that's substantial. However, you need to pay for your indiscretions with a kiss."

"Whatever will I do?" Wyll leans down, nose pressing against yours," I have no choice but to give in, hm?"

"No choice." You agreed, hands moving to his waist as he cups your face.

He presses his lips to yours excitedly.

▢ gortash

He's doing some paperwork when you give him a little kiss on the cheek. Not reacting at first, he finished his signature before looking up at you, a softness to his eyes," Can I help you?"

You merely give him an innocent smile," just reminding you that I love you."

He blinks for a moment before he hums, a slow grin reaching his lips," I see.." He places a hand to your hip, rubbing it slowly with a thumb," Well, I fear I need another reminder then, my dear."

"Greedy," You cooed out before pressing a proper kiss to his lips.

▢ raphael

Is certainly shocked for a split second. He was only telling you about a recent poem he had read and enjoyed.

He cups the back of your neck with his clawed hand, deepening the kiss with huff of amusement. Before breaking the kiss he nips at your bottom lip with his sharp teeth," It's rude to interrupt."

You hum, pressing another kiss to his jaw," You're too endearing when you talk about your poems." You reply honestly.

"Oh good, I was afraid I was boring you." No, he wasn't. He knew how engaged you got in his little speils. That was endearing.

"You could never." He drags you into another kiss with a lot more flames stoked beneath it.

▢ halsin

A low hum of surprise and then a slow smile reaches his lips. His large hands rest on your waist as he deepens this kiss, feeling heat build between the two of you the more passionate it grows.

When you pull away from eachother there's a trail of saliva left between your lips. His eyes are a lot darker now, a yellow shine to them," is there something you need, my heart?" He questioned with that low tone of his.

"Just you."

Pins you to a nearby tree and kisses your neck," that I'll give you in abundance."

▢ rolan

Was in the middle of complaining to you about how you put a book in the wrong place. He had that cute little frown on his face, the grouchy furrow to his brows and the agitated swish of his tail.

You just couldn't help yourself. Leaning forwards, you caught his lips with yours, making him shut up completely. He stared down at you with wide eyes before he moans a little and leans into the kiss.

His tail curls around your leg, dragging you closer to him as he leaned back against the bookcase behind him.

When you pulled away for a breath, he still had his eyes closed for a good five seconds.

Looks into your eyes for a moment before he cups your jaw," you can't kiss your way through an argument." He huffs out.

"I just did."

"Did you? What if I'm still mad at you?"

You grinned at him," Your tail says otherwise, love."

He scoffed and tried to frown but his lips kept twitching," You're impossible." Pulls you into a more heated kiss, arms wrapping around you protectively.