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katsu28 · 1 month ago

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summer's golden haze - chapter three

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: bar hopping, damsels in drunken distress, and a late night heart to heart. (5.1k)

warnings: swearing, alcohol, lando talks about the hungarian gp shitshow

a/n: yes this is me maybe slightly projecting my feelings about hungary onto my characters okay! they're my barbie dolls to play with i can do whatever i want 😌↕️ anyways hope u enjoy <3

previous chapter | masterlist

“Hello? Are you even listening?”

You blink, bringing yourself back to reality and back to the current conversation. Your friends are looking back at you with matching concerned, albeit a little annoyed expressions. “What? Sorry, I was—I’m here, sorry. What’s going on?”

Samira tuts, but not unkindly. They all know you’ve got a million things running in your mind at the moment. “I was saying our dinner reservations got canceled. Something about the kitchen having to close down for maintenance, I dunno. Anyways, it frees us up tonight and we’re trying to figure out what to do instead.”

“Oh. We could stay in? Order some food, watch a movie?”

“I know what we need,” Camille gasps suddenly, eyes lighting up like she’s just had a brilliant idea. “We’re going bar hopping tonight.”

“Bar hopping? We haven’t done that since—” You pause, taking a moment to think. You haven’t been bar hopping since Samira got dumped by her girlfriend a few months back, the time before that when Maren finally cut ties with her situationship last year. The only time you all go bar hopping is after a breakup. They think what happened with Lando is the same as breaking up with a partner. “Guys, seriously, I’m fine. He was never even my boyfriend anyways!”

“Say what you want, but you’ve been super out of it these past few days. You need to let loose, do something that makes you stop thinking of Lando and start thinking about yourself again.”

You scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. “I think about myself plenty.”

Camille rolls her eyes at you. “I mean not in that mopey, sad ‘I say everything is fine even though it’s not’ way. There’s more fish in the sea than Lando. Find one, or don’t, it’s up to you. But you need to forget about him.”

Your lips press into a thin line as you sink back into your seat.

You don’t want another fish in the sea. You want the weird little crab with the cute accent and the sparkly eyes, the one you’ve already let back into the water.

The one you can’t have.

Things haven’t been too awkward with Lando yet, but they definitely aren’t the same. Two people who really like each other but have decided to remain friends doesn’t really scream smooth sailing from now on to you. The wound is still fresh, and there are hints of it as you spend more time with the guys.

Immediately filling the empty seat next to each other like it’s second nature but then having to awkwardly scoot away when your shoulders bump or your hands brush. Lingering glances across tables and rooms until one of you breaks and looks away first. Finding him first in a place full of other people and drifting towards him, only to come to your senses and switch up directions at the last moment.

You wish you could say forgetting Lando would be easy. It really isn’t—not when your friend groups have basically melded into one big one, and everyone gets along so well. It would’ve been easier if you’d gone your separate ways, but you don’t think your heart would’ve liked that very much. Not that it enjoys skipping a beat every time you catch Lando’s eyes on you a little too long either.

You wrinkle your nose, brows following. “I’m sad and mopey?”

“A little bit.”

“Okay, fine. Fine, let’s go bar hopping,” You concede, letting your shoulders drop.

If you’re going to get over him, you might as well start right now.

That’s how you end up in bar number one of the night, four tequila shots on the bar table in front of you. You eye the unassuming little glass warily, even as each of your friends snatch one up eagerly.

Samira, as if sensing your hesitation, nudges yours toward you. “It’s one shot, babe. It won’t kill you.”

“I know that,” You insist, throwing your shoulders back. “I just…need a second.”

“Take all the time you need. We’re going all night.”

Tonight isn’t about your feelings for Lando. Tonight is about you moving on, moving past what could’ve been with him and looking forward to what might come next. With or without him.

You hold up your shot towards them, grinning big. “Here’s to moving forward, and making memories that’ll last a lifetime!”

Clinking your glass against all of theirs, you throw back the clear liquid as smoothly as you can, only wincing a little bit at the burn of it going down your throat. It isn’t your usual drink of choice, but change has to start somewhere, right?

-------

As far as bars go, this one isn’t the worst one you’ve been to tonight, but the fun has started to wear off for you. You’d stopped drinking around bar number two, the buzz of your much tamer drink choices after those first few shots starting to die down bit by bit. On the other hand, your friends are still going full steam ahead. You’ve honestly lost track of how many drinks they’ve had at the bars you’ve hit tonight, but they’re holding on pretty well.

“Fuck boys!” Samira exclaims, slamming another shot glass down onto the table with gusto. Maren and Camille agree wholeheartedly with identical slurred ‘yeah, fuck ‘em!’s that make you chuckle into your glass of water.

You know they’re just trying to make you feel better about your decision, and in a way, it helps. You’d finally been able to talk about what went down that afternoon without feeling an indescribable rush of guilt, and although they were disappointed at first, it became less when you’d told them why. They’re your best friends, and they know you better than anyone, so they know for a fact Lando’s lifestyle was not the one for you.

Tonight was supposed to be all about forgetting your feelings, but as the night went on longer and your inhibitions became lower, you still couldn’t help but think about Lando. That mental box you’d put him has burst wide open already.

You’re a little embarrassed to admit it, but you’d done a little research on him after getting home, which turned into a deep dive of his career, his life, anything that piqued your interest in him. You were curious to know what a guy like him saw in someone like you.

It felt a little weird to see him outside the Lando you’ve gotten to know him as, because he seemed…different. He’s still the same sweet guy you know, but on video he’s a more tame version of himself.

Carefully chosen words and shy smiles, he wears his confidence like a suit of armor on camera, to protect himself against the world. Here, he’s all bursting grins and loud belly laughs, unfiltered and so, so happy. He seems so normal, it’s hard to remember that he’s not just your everyday guy. Lando is one of the best and well known racing drivers in the whole world.

Making sure to separate the two is important if you want to stay firm in your decision.

Somehow it hits nearly four in the morning, and it’s about high time you make the executive decision to call it quits and go home. The only problem is, you’re the only semi-sober one out of the four of you. You have the car, but you don’t trust yourself to drive in this state. None of your friends are in any shape to be of any help either, not when Maren is nearly passed out on the tabletop, and Camille and Samira drunkenly swaying with each other right next to you.

You don’t really trust any rideshares at this time of night in an unfamiliar place, and even then, there’s no way you can get them all home by yourself. There’s only one other thing you can think of, one other person you can call to help you out. The one person you were hoping to not have to call.

The moment your finger hits Lando’s number, you have half a mind to hang up. You’re about to, but then the line connects.

“Yeah, what?” Lando’s voice is gravelly, thick with sleep. A little grumpy. Of course he’s grumpy, it’s nearing three in the morning and he was probably asleep. You feel bad that you've woken him up, but you couldn't think of anything else.

“Lando? I’m so sorry to be calling you this late, I just didn’t know what else to do.”

Immediately, he sounds more alert when your name leaves his lips. “Is everything alright? What’s up?”

You gnaw on your lip in contemplation until he says your name again, gentler this time. “We’re at a bar in town and the girls are really drunk and we need to get home, but I had a few drinks too so I didn't think I should drive. And I tried to call an Uber but at this time of night I don’t—”

“Hey, no, it’s okay. I can come pick you up.” He interrupts your rambling and you're grateful for it, because the more you talk the more you think this was a bad idea. You’re asking him for too much, you're stretching the limits of an already awkward friendship too far, you're— “Just tell me where you are, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Drop me your location and stay there.” You can hear rustling on his end of the line, pounding on a door, someone’s groggy voice saying something you can’t make out. Then Lando’s voice fills your ear again, soft yet firm. “Hang tight, ‘kay? Be there soon.”

“Thank you so much,” You breath, truly grateful. He hangs up, and you can finally let out a breath of relief. Lando is coming. You won’t be stranded here.

Lando jumps out of the car as soon as it pulls to a stop in front. He’s got on some nondescript jumper with the hood pulled up over his head and a random pair of joggers, and he definitely doesn’t look like he’d just been roused from his sleep. In fact, seeing him all disheveled with worry like this is kind of doing it for you.

You’re in the middle of apologizing again when Lando crashes into you, arms wrapping around you tighter than you’re expecting, nearly squeezing the breath out of you. You meet Max’s eyes over his shoulder, who you’d just realized was also here, and he doesn’t look surprised at all. He looks rather smug, actually.

“Are you okay?” Lando holds you at arms length, worried eyes scanning you for anything out of place, any injury. Other than your pride, you remain unharmed. Though that pesky fluttery feeling in your stomach is back again, as is the warmth in your chest, and it isn’t from the alcohol.

His hood has fallen off from the force of his hug to reveal the tornado of curls on his head, flat on one side from his pillow most likely, as are the lines on his face from what was probably a good night’s sleep. Until you called, that is.

You blink at him, caught off guard by the amount of care he still seems to have for you. It feels like an impossible feat to tear your gaze away from his. “Yes? I mean, yeah, I’m fine. You—wow, you got here fast.”

“I thought maybe something—nevermind.” He cranes his neck around you to glance at your half asleep friends on the bench. “Are…they okay?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. Tequila, y’know?” You shrug.

Max lets out a snort of laughter from where he’s wandered over to check on them, waving a hand in front of Samira’s face. She swats at him halfheartedly, mumbling a sleepy, “Fuck off, Fewtrell.”

“Sorry to wake you too, Max.”

“Oh no, you didn’t wake me. He did.” He juts his chin over at Lando, who still has a hand around your elbow. You can’t help but let your eyes drop down to it, and Lando does too, inhaling sharply before letting go. Still, the warmth from his grip lingers. “And not very nicely might I add.”

“I had to get you up quick!”

“You nearly took my head off with a pillow, you dickhead!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want a kiss on the forehead?” Lando snorts.

“Not from you!”

“Come off it already, won’t you?” Lando turns his attention back to you instead, rolling his eyes playfully when he finds you stifling a giggle behind your palm. “You said you had your car?”

“Um, yeah, it’s around the corner. We can just leave it here, I’ll circle back and pick it up in the morning.”

Lando clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “It’ll probably be stripped for parts by tomorrow. How bout we split up? Two and two?”

“Well, we all know who you want,” Max says knowingly. It makes your cheeks flame hot and Lando’s flush pink, but Max doesn’t waver in his shit eating grin. For some reason, you find his candid bluntness refreshing, even if it is poking fun at what’s going on (or not going on) between Lando and yourself. “You guys take Maren in your car, I’ll take these two and meet you at your house.”

Max manages to coax Camille and Samira to their feet with little trouble, and before you know it they’re off, leaving you alone with Lando and a very sleepy Maren. He rocks back on his heels, biting the inside of his cheek awkwardly, like he’s not sure what to do.

“Should we—”

“I think—” Lando bites back a laugh, gesturing for you to speak first.

“We should probably get going.”

“Right. Let’s get her in the car then, yeah?”

You couldn’t be less well versed in cars if you tried, but even you know the one Lando came to your rescue in is expensive. You’re almost too reluctant to even sit in it. But then Lando’s hand touches softly against the small of your back as he pulls open the door without hesitation, and you have no choice but to help Maren in.

Not like you had much of a choice anyways, what with him being the knight in shining armor to your damsel in distress call.

“Did you have fun? Before having to play mum to the girls, I mean.” Lando asks a little while later, not taking his eyes off the road.

You blow out a deep breath, sinking back into the plush leather of the passenger seat. The soft smoothness is heaven on your skin. “Kinda. The first few drinks, at least. Felt a little out of place, honestly.”

“What, you didn't charm some guy the same way you charmed me?” Silence fills the car like cement as soon as the words leave his mouth. A pang of something sharp shoots through you, something akin to hurt that flashes through your chest but is gone a second later.

No, you shouldn’t feel hurt. You’re the one who hurt him. Even though he’s told you over and over that it’s okay, it’s fine, he understands your decision, Lando has every right to express his true feelings, no matter how it makes you feel.

“Sorry, that was—that came out wrong. I just meant—”

“I know what you meant,” You say quietly. He wants to know if you met someone else, and the answer is no. No, you didn't meet another guy, because all you could think about was him. But you’re just friends. You’d made certain of it. So why did you feel like you’d done something wrong? “I didn’t meet anyone else.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Is it?”

A muscle in his jaw clenches as he swallows thickly, nodding. “Yeah. I mean, if that’s what you want. What you’re looking for.”

“I don’t think I’m looking for anything right now,” Your voice is soft, nearly a whisper.

I’m not looking for something that isn’t you, you could add. You don’t. It wouldn’t do anything other than hurt him, and yourself, even more.

The rest of the ride home is basically silent, and Max is waiting on the sofa with the other two when you finally get there, entertaining a story that Camille is telling not unlike one would with a child, uh huh-ing and wow, that’s so cool-ing until he realizes you’re finally here.

You take over from then, thank him profusely yet again when he says he’s going to head home, before corralling all three girls into the bathroom like a zookeeper with their animals.

One by one, you help each of your friends through an abridged version of their night routines until they’re all ready for bed, and then you tuck them into the same bed as best you can. You’ve relegated yourself to the floor with a littering of pillows for the night. It’ll be easier to get to them if they need anything during the night if you’re all in the same room.

You’re surprised to see Lando in the doorway once you’ve gotten them all settled in for the night. You thought he'd left with Max, but apparently not.

He glances up as he hears you approach, frowning. “You’re gonna sleep on the floor?”

You shrug. “Yeah, it’s fine. I can keep an eye on them that way. You can, erm, you can go home now. Go back to sleep.”

“No offense, but I’m pretty sure they’ll sleep through the night. Plus, you must be knackered too. You should get some rest, yeah?” You want to say no, but your body’s response betrays you in that moment, because you yawn big, and it makes him chuckle. “Come on. Sleep in your own bed. I’ll watch over them.”

“No way.” You shake your head insistently, despite the enticing offer. “You’ve already done more than enough, Lando, I can’t ask you to stay up all night. I’ve got them covered.”

“You shouldn’t either.” He shoots back, chin tilting up in challenge. You match him as best you can with your eyes growing heavier and heavier by the moment, and eventually, he backs down, hands up in mock surrender. “How ‘bout we take shifts? The living room’s right across the hall, if we camp out there and anyone makes a racket, whoever’s up will be able to hear them.”

You twist your lips to the side in thought. “Deal. I call first watch though.”

“I can live with that. Why don’t you go freshen up, or something?”

“Is that your way of telling me I stink?”

Lando’s eyes glint with mirth, teasing smile curling his lips. “Maybe.”

“Well, maybe you don’t smell too good either!” That’s a total lie. He actually smells really nice, a mixture of remnants of his heady cologne from the day and something fresher, a little citrusy. His soap, maybe?

A hot shower certainly does wonders to sober you up the rest of the way, and as you’re toweling your hair dry enough to where it won’t be dripping water down your shirt, you take a good look at yourself in the fogged up mirror.

This is fine. You can spend a night alone with Lando without feeling anything towards him. You can do this. You’ve done harder things than this.

Lando’s frowning at something on his phone when you make your way back into the living room, scowling like whatever’s on the screen has personally wronged him. It isn’t the first time you've noticed his demeanor turn sour like this, and your concern is piqued each time.

You clear your throat as if to announce your presence, offering him a small smile when his head whips up. “Hi. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s just work.” He tosses his phone on the coffee table, dragging a hand forward through his curls, mussing up the front before raking them back. It doesn’t seem to do anything but make them messier, but you suspect it’s more of a nervous habit than anything.

He smiles back at you as you sit a respectable distance away from him on the sofa, though even that looks entirely forced. Something is wrong, and it’s eating away at him.

“Look, I know things aren't how they used to be with us, but I hope you know I’m still here for you. You can always talk to me if you need to.”

Lando gnaws on his bottom lip, head tilting from side to side like he's unsure. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Friends are there for each other.”

He blows out a deep sigh, sinking back against the pillows like a deflated balloon. “Yeah? You’re sure?”

“I’m a good listener, remember?” You nudge his knee with yours gently. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m all ears.”

He isn’t ready right away. For a little while, you sit in silence. You get the feeling Lando doesn’t have much experience with letting people in very easily, but it's okay. You’ll sit here as long as he needs to get his thoughts together.

Finally he speaks, but even then, his tone holds hesitance.

“I feel like everything is going to shit. The car is great this season, it’s better than it's ever been before, so that’s not the problem. It’s me, I’m the problem, I keep fucking everything up," He sighs, shoulders slumping. "And my team work so hard for me to be able to perform and deliver and I feel like I’m just letting everyone down, y’know? They deserve someone who can give them better than the shit stuff I’ve been putting out these past few races.”

Lando as a person is impossibly hard on himself, you’ve come to learn��always thinks he could’ve done better, even if what he’s already done is enough. The same is true when it comes to his job.

You’d know—you checked. In your uninformed opinion, the results he’s been achieving in the races are great. To be finishing high in the top five out of twenty of the best drivers in the world in almost every single race recently, it’s enough to make anyone proud.

But when you think about it from a competition perspective, a cutthroat drive with everything you’ve got, put everything on the line perspective, you get a sense of why he’s beating himself up.

To know he can win and still fall short, race after race…god, you can’t even imagine how he must be feeling.

You might be clueless still, but at the very basis of it all, you understand. Lando has worked so hard for so many years, put in blood, sweat, and tears, and he feels like he’s not living up to expectations.

You know what it’s like to have such high expectations placed on your shoulders and nearly be crushed by the weight of everyone counting on you. Surely not on a scale as large as his, but you understand the struggle.

Then he goes into the race in Hungary a few weeks back, and you can tell there’s some lingering hurt in him about what happened.

“It’s like they were guilt tripping me or something. Telling me I’ll need the team in the championship fight, that I should do the right thing and give up my position. Call me crazy, but that just didn’t sit right with me at all. They want me to be a team player and that’s fine, I’m happy to, but I dunno…” Lando trails off, nose wrinkling like the words leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

You notice him picking at the skin below his nail and move without thinking, closing the distance between the two of you and redirecting his fiddling fingers by linking them with your own.

It gets him to stop picking, but it also makes him stop talking. Whatever words are about to come out of his mouth die into a drawn out exhale, eyes drawn to your joined hands like a magnet.

“Yeah? Keep going, I’m still listening,” You urge gently, nodding. Lando blinks at you, as if he’s lost his train of thought. “Hungary? The team?”

“Uh…yeah. Right. I was—I guess I just didn’t think they’d pull all that crap over the radio. Like, everyone could hear what they were saying—other teams, the commentators. It was on live broadcast too!” His fingers tighten around yours ever so slightly, dark brows knit with frustration.

Even though you know close to nothing about the sport, what his team pulled seems like a dick move. You understand wanting to put their drivers in the best position possible, but airing things out on a radio where everyone can hear it feels wrong to you. Then again, you have no idea what goes on within a team at this type of performance level.

“It’s like, they knew I’d do what they wanted me to do and I did, but for a moment, I almost didn’t. I almost went against team orders, and that’s…” He laughs humorlessly, shaking his head. “You don’t do that. You can’t. You listen to what your team says and you do it, and that’s the end. My boss has been calling every now and then, trying to get me to talk and shit, and I just don’t really wanna talk about work right now. I don’t even wanna think about it.”

“Oh, Lando…” You sigh. Your thumb rubs circles over the prominent ridges of his knuckles, hoping it brings him some sort of comfort.

“I know I probably sound like such a brat right now, but I’ve given everything I have to McLaren and it still doesn't feel like enough. They want more, and right now…I’m not sure how much more I’ve got in me.”

“Can I be completely and totally honest with you right now?”

“Yeah, please.”

You hesitate, taking a beat to reply. You don’t want him to take your response the wrong way. “I’m not gonna sit and pretend like I have any clue what it’s like to be in your situation, because I don’t. But I do think you’re being too hard on yourself. Yeah, sometimes you might not get the results you’d hoped for, but you’re doing the best you can, and that’s all you need to be doing.”

Lando doesn’t need your advice, and you’re in no place to be giving any in the first place. He just needs someone in his corner, someone who cares about him to tell him that it’s okay to not be perfect. You want to be that person, even though you’re both still trying to settle into this new dynamic with each other.

Thankfully, your words seem to soak in, easing the tension in his shoulders just a little bit. “Thank you. I think I really needed that.”

“Glad I could help,” You say warmly, squeezing his hand.

“Y’know, I just realized that I’ve never said any of that out loud to anyone.”

“Do you feel better?”

Lando chuckles, and somehow, he even seems better. Like whatever was weighing him down was gone. “Yeah, I do. I feel…lighter, actually? Is that weird?”

“Not at all. That’s what letting things out will do for you.”

“Maybe. But maybe it’s more than that, maybe it’s…you.”

Your breath hitches in your chest. “Me?”

“You make me feel like I can be myself around you. Like, the real me, not the me the rest of the world knows me as. I feel genuinely happy around you, and I—I can’t just sit here and ignore it any longer. I still really like you. And I know what you said about us, and I know why, but I can’t help the way I feel around you. The way I feel about you.”

“Lando, I—”

“I swear I’m not trying to change your mind or make you feel guilty, or anything like that! I just had to say it before it made me explode,” He adds, exhaling shakily. “In the spirit of letting things out.”

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t been starting to question whether or not you’d made the right choice by deciding to walk away from Lando, because the more you get to know him, the more it chips away at your resolve. He’s kind and sweet and funny, and he gets you like nobody else has before. It’s been hell these past few days, tiptoeing around each other when all you want to do is kiss him senseless.

Right now, you want to kiss him senseless. He’s right here in front of you, holding your hand, looking at you with those stupid sparkly eyes. You want to say it’s the leftover alcohol buzzing in your veins making you feel this way, but that would be a lie too.

Fuck it.

You cross the already dwindling space between the two of you, sliding a hand around the back of his neck, and kissing him softly. Lando freezes for a split second, but before you know it, he’s kissing you back, guiding you closer until you’re nearly on his lap. His hands roam your back, curling into the material of your shirt, thumbing under it just a tiny bit to stroke at the warm skin there.

It isn’t at all like the first time you kissed. He lets you set the tone, following your slow lead without question.

You’re not sure how long you keep at it—lazy, gentle kisses punctuated with hushed giggles and tiny satisfied noises from the both of you.

Lando takes a pause every so often, pulling back just enough to look at you, take in the sight of you breathless from his doing, and every time, his mouth curls into a squinty, close mouthed smile. You can only bear the fondness in his expression for a few seconds before growing too aware of the way he looks at you and kissing him again.

Your brain doesn’t want to stop, but apparently your body decides you’ve had enough action for a day, because at some point you feel your eyes start to droop, chin following.

As if sensing your exhaustion, Lando pulls away, chest rising and falling heavily. He’s breathless, lips kiss-swollen as they curve into a soft smile. “We should stop. You need to get some sleep.”

“No! We should talk about this. Us.”

“I agree, but I don’t think you’re really in the right headspace to do it right now.”

“I’m fine! I’m okay, I swear.”

“You just nearly fell asleep whilst we were making out.”

“For a second!” You whine, letting your head thunk against his chest. A chuckle vibrates through him. “Don’t laugh at me, I’m tired.”

“Then go to sleep. We’ll talk about it in the morning,” He insists, lips pressed to the crown of your head. You sigh through your nose. You’d argue a little more, but Lando is right again. All you want to do is go to sleep. “I’m not going anywhere, alright? I’ll be here when you wake up, we can figure it out then.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

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#lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 x reader #ln4 #lando norris x you #ln4 x you #lando norris x fem!reader #lando norris fic #lando norris series #ln4 x fem!reader #lando norris imagine

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nessa007 · 1 year ago

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Halle Bailey's screen test looks for The Little Mermaid Camille Friend (Ariel's hair designer): A wig going over [Halle's hair] just never looked right. It was more important keeping the look of [Halle] being an African American Ariel and not trying to change her. Halle Bailey: I was just really pleased with Rob Marshall and John DeLuca's decision to keep my natural hair but also add some loose tresses to it so [it looks] more mermaid-y as well. I was really pleased that I got to keep that piece of myself.

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gingiesworld · 1 year ago

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Gingie's Kinktoberfest

Hey awesome people, this is my first ever Kinktober event and I hope you all will enjoy what I have in store with a range of characters from Lizzie with appearances of Nat and Maria too. The list and dates they will be released are as below.

1st: MILF Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader (Amab! R) Summary: It has been a while since Wanda has had an orgasm so she asks her best friend for a helping had.

3rd: Natasha Romanoff x Porn Star Avenger (Amab! R) Summary: Reader is a porn star and Natasha is a secret fan, especially when she learns that the masked crusader on the hub is indeed her fellow Avenger

5th: Therese Raquin x Fem Reader Summary: Therese is unhappily married to Camille and she has always had feelings for reader who was also part owner of the pub. So one night when Therese decides to let loose and have some fun, she finally takes what she wants.

7th: Gerri Fields x GN! Reader (Amab! R) Summary: Gerri Fields still goes to college a virgin where she meets an old school friend she used to admire before graduation. The two soon start to date and Gerri asks them to be her first.

9th: Maria Hill x Lower Level Agent Reader(Amab! R) Summary: Maria is on a mission with reader who makes one tiny mistake and she is fast enough to berate them on the way back to headquarters. But Reader stands up for themselves which soon turns into something more ;)

11th: Step sister Wanda x GN! Reader (Amab! R) Summary: Wanda visits her step sibling in the city and they offer to take her to a club. The two soon get drunk and Wanda finds herself dancing seductively which doesn't help with the tension that was between them before ;)

13th: Jane Banner x Mob Reader (Amab! R) Summary: Jane Banner was always the one who wore the trousers but that was until she met Y/N. The mob boss who she was trying to take down. Soon finding herself tied to their bed as they used her for their pleasure.

15th: Natasha Romanoff x GN! Reader (Amab! R) Summary: Readers favourite place to be is between the Infamous Black Widow's legs. Pleasing her until she squirts.

17th: Step mom Wanda x GN! Reader (Amab! R) Summary: Wanda overheard Y/N screaming her name only to walk in on them jerking themselves off to the sinful thoughts of their step mom.

21st: Innocent Wanda x Step Parent GN! Reader (Amab! R) Summary: Wanda comes home after being dumped by her boyfriend since high school in search of comfort. Soon receiving more than she never knew she needed from Reader

23rd: Maria Hill x GN! Reader (Amab! R) Summary: At one of Tony's parties, exes bump into each other and soon fall into old habits.

25th: Assistant Wanda x CEO Reader (Amab! R) Summary: Reader requests a little bit more off of their assistant and she is more than ready to comply as they bend her over the desk.

27th: Bratty Natasha Romanoff x GN! Reader (Amab! R) Summary: Natasha decides to be blunt and abrupt with reader who doesn't care for it, especially when she is cocky and disrepectful in front of their friends.

29th: Wanda Maximoff x Stripper Reader (Amab! R) Summary: Wanda hires Reader claiming it is for a Bachelorette party which turns out to be sex party for all of her friends.

31st: WandaNat x GN! Reader (Amab! R) Summary: Both Wanda and Nat are persuing reader thinking they are clueless but they are loving the attention a little too much.

18+ MINORS DNI

HAPPY KINKTOBER BUDDIES!!!

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #gerri fields fanfiction #jane banner x gn! reader #maria hill x reader

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theorahsart · 15 days ago

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Incorruptible pt 45

I like to think that when they got along, Brissot and Camille sang Revolution Songs together (they're not drunk, they're just...Brissot and Camille together in a room).

Also, the song is VERY loosely translated from this song, made in 1791. Robespierre was featured in songs as far back as that! Because the song seems to pursue rhyming over other elements, I also chose rhyming over a more direct translation.

Another also: thank you @anotherhumaninthisworld for several posts and links, which helped me figure out Brissot more easily, alongside discovering that he's like *ridiculously* short lol

#incorruptiblecomic #I figured brissot out fairly quickly #it became evident early on in reading that he had unbreakable confidence #and just went head first into things because he seemed to believe every time it would be fine lmao #I guess that sums up his war decisions? lol #frev #french revolution #brissot #camille desmoulins #maximilien robespierre #robespierre #petion #jerome petion #frev comic #frev art #history comic #french history #historical drama #historical fiction

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asimmingpunsquared · 1 year ago

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given permission, it's time to call the matchmaker! who catches camille's eye, apparently, lmao

#the sims 2 #ts2 #sims 2 #simblr #sims 2 gameplay #sims 2 maxis match gameplay #stilla #spc #spc: yearfiveweekone #spc: martell #spc: my5w1 #camille loose

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hookhausenschips · 3 months ago

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Butterflies {OP81}

Navigation

Summary: Amidst past heartbreak and fear of vulnerability, Y/N gradually allows herself to fall for Oscar, whose patience and sincerity offer a promising chance at love, revealing that the journey of trust and commitment is worth the risk.

Warnings: themes of emotional vulnerability, past trauma, fear of intimacy, struggles/uncertainties of opening up to someone new, and the complexities of trust in relationships.

Join my taglist by clicking here or shoot me a message!

Loosely based on this song

you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

I don't wanna fall so fast

But I'm open

I’m 24, young, and full of potential, yet I've already learned some tough lessons in love. Being a black woman, navigating the complexities of relationships hasn't always been easy. I’ve had my heart broken more times than I care to admit, and each time, it left a scar that hasn’t quite healed. The people I trusted with my deepest emotions didn’t treat them with the care they deserved, and now, it’s hard not to feel jaded.

There was Darren, who made me believe in forever but disappeared when things got tough. Then there was Camille, who said all the right things but never really meant them. Each of them left me with a little less faith in love, and a little more doubt in myself. I keep asking myself, "Why do I always end up hurt?" and "Is there something wrong with me?"

Lately, I’ve been trying to rebuild—focus on myself, get my confidence back. But deep down, there’s a yearning that I can’t quite shake, a desire to find that connection again. To love and be loved, but this time, without the heartbreak. Yet, every time I think about letting someone new in, my stomach twists with anxiety.

They always say that good things never last

And I know 'cause I've been broken

One evening, while sitting on my bed, I scrolled through old messages from past relationships, the ones that used to make me smile. Now, they just remind me of broken promises. I whispered to myself, "I can’t do this again. I can’t let myself fall for someone just to end up picking up the pieces later."

But there’s a part of me—a small, stubborn part—that still believes love is worth the risk. And that part scares me the most because what if I’m wrong? What if I let someone in again and end up more broken than before?

My friends say, "You deserve someone who treats you right, someone who values you." I know they’re right, but how do I open up to that possibility when my past keeps haunting me? How do I let go of the fear that history will repeat itself?

And that’s where I was—stuck between wanting to love and fearing the pain that might come with it—when Oscar came into my life.

I'm tryin' to protect my heart

But you're making it so hard

It was a random Tuesday, and I had no idea that day would change anything. I wasn’t looking for love, not even close. My focus was on work, my friends, and trying to enjoy life on my own terms. But then, there he was—Oscar Piastri.

I remember the first time I saw him. It was at a small coffee shop around the corner from my apartment. I had just picked up my usual order, a caramel latte with an extra shot of espresso, and was about to leave when I accidentally bumped into someone.

“Whoa, sorry about that,” I said, looking up to see who I’d almost drenched in coffee.

He smiled, a warm, easy smile that immediately put me at ease. “No worries, I could use a little caffeine splash to wake me up.”

I laughed, a bit nervously, and noticed how his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’m glad I could help, I guess?”

He chuckled and extended his hand. “I’m Oscar, by the way. I think I’ve seen you around here before.”

I hesitated for a split second before shaking his hand. “Y/N. And yeah, this is my go-to spot. Best coffee in town.”

“Agreed. Though I have to say, you’ve got a pretty intense order there. Tough day?”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just the usual grind. You?”

“Same here. But this,” he held up his cup, “is the highlight of my day so far.”

We both laughed, and for a moment, everything felt easy. There was something about him that intrigued me, something different from what I was used to. He wasn’t trying too hard, wasn’t putting on a show. He was just… Oscar.

And I guess it's safe to say

You take my pain away

Over the next few days, I kept running into him—at the coffee shop, at the grocery store, even at the park where I liked to jog. It was like the universe was nudging me toward him, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to listen.

One afternoon, after another “coincidental” meeting at the coffee shop, he asked me to sit with him. I almost said no, wanting to stick to my usual routine, but something in his eyes made me pause.

“Just for a few minutes,” he said, his voice soft and inviting. “I promise I won’t keep you long.”

I found myself nodding. “Okay, a few minutes.”

As we sat down, the conversation flowed effortlessly. We talked about everything and nothing—our favorite movies, the best places to eat in the city, and even the little quirks we had. I learned that Oscar was a bit of a perfectionist, always striving to be the best at whatever he did, but he had a laid-back side that balanced it out. He loved racing, which didn’t surprise me, but what caught me off guard was how he spoke about it—with passion, but also with a humility that was refreshing.

At one point, I mentioned my love for books, and his eyes lit up. “You’re a reader? That’s awesome. What’s your favorite genre?”

“Anything that makes me feel something,” I replied. “I love stories that are real, that don’t shy away from the messy parts of life.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. I think the best stories are the ones that make you feel like you’re not alone, like someone out there gets what you’re going through.”

There was a sincerity in his words that made me want to know more about him, even though I was still hesitant. I couldn’t deny that I was drawn to him, that there was something about Oscar that made me feel… safe. But at the same time, a voice in the back of my mind reminded me of the walls I’d built, the ones that had protected me from getting hurt again.

As the conversation wound down, Oscar looked at me with a smile that was both gentle and knowing. “I’m really glad we got to talk, Y/N. Maybe we could do this again sometime? No pressure, just… whenever you feel like it.”

I hesitated, the familiar apprehension bubbling up. But then I found myself nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Great,” he said, his smile widening. “I’ll see you around then.”

As I walked away, I couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, like maybe—just maybe—this was something worth exploring. But I was still cautious, still unsure if I could let myself fall for someone again. Only time would tell if Oscar was different, if he was someone I could trust with my heart.

And I just wanna hold you all night long

Whenever I'm around you, nothing's wrong I'm hoping that you'll always be around

The days turned into weeks, and before I knew it, Oscar and I had developed a comfortable routine. We’d meet up for coffee or grab dinner at one of the spots we’d discovered together. There was a natural rhythm to our conversations, a back-and-forth that felt easy, almost effortless. But with that ease came something I hadn’t expected—the butterflies.

At first, it was just a slight flutter whenever I saw his name pop up on my phone. A quick text from him, like, “Hey, thinking about trying that new sushi place tonight. You in?” would make my heart skip a beat. I’d find myself smiling at the screen, trying to keep cool as I typed back, “Sounds good. What time?”

But it wasn’t just the texts. It was the way he looked at me when we were talking, like I was the only person in the room. One night, we were sitting in the park, watching the sunset after a long day. Oscar had brought a blanket, and we were sprawled out on the grass, just talking about everything and nothing.

You got me on a high, I don't wanna come down And I love it, I love it (these butterflies)

Yeah I love it, I love it (I'm on a high)

Yeah, I love it, I love it And I just wanna love on you (ooh)

“Do you ever just look at the sky and think about how small we are?” he asked, his voice soft and contemplative.

I turned to him, surprised by the question. “Sometimes. It’s kind of overwhelming, though, isn’t it? Thinking about how big the universe is and how tiny our problems are in comparison.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, his eyes still fixed on the sky. “But I think it’s kind of comforting, too. Like, no matter what happens, the world keeps turning, the sun keeps setting, and there’s always a new day.”

I looked at him then, really looked at him, and felt that familiar flutter in my chest. It wasn’t just the words he said; it was the way he said them, with a quiet assurance that made me feel like everything would be okay.

Ever since you crossed my path

Everything is different

You always know just how to make me laugh

You got me all up in my feelings

“You’re a bit of a philosopher, aren’t you?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

He laughed, a low, warm sound that made my heart flip. “Maybe a little. But seriously, Y/N, it’s moments like this that make me appreciate the simple things. Like just being here with you.”

My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. His words were simple, but they meant so much more than that. I could feel the butterflies intensifying, that mix of excitement and nervousness churning in my stomach.

“Yeah,” I finally managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I get that.”

And then there were the little things he did that made me feel seen, really seen. Like the time we were at a bookstore, and I was browsing through the fiction section. I mentioned offhandedly that I loved a particular author but hadn’t read their latest book yet. A few days later, Oscar showed up with a wrapped package.

And as much as I love the feeling I hate it, it gets me frustrated

Wanna say just how I feel

“What’s this?” I asked, curious.

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Just open it.”

I tore off the wrapping paper to find the book I’d mentioned. My eyes widened in surprise, and I looked up at him, speechless.

“You said you hadn’t read it yet,” he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I figured you might like it.”

My heart swelled with a mix of emotions—gratitude, joy, and something deeper that I wasn’t ready to name yet. “Oscar, this is… thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he replied, his voice softening. “But I wanted to.”

It was in moments like these that I started to feel those butterflies taking over. He made me laugh like no one else could, like the time we tried to cook dinner together and ended up burning half the food. We were both hopeless in the kitchen, but instead of getting frustrated, Oscar just laughed, his laughter infectious.

“Well, I guess we know what we’re not good at,” he said, shaking his head as he surveyed the mess we’d made.

“Yeah,” I laughed, wiping away a tear. “But at least we didn’t burn the whole place down.”

He grinned and bumped his shoulder against mine. “Small victories, right?”

But it wasn’t just the laughter. It was the way he was there for me, supporting me in ways I hadn’t expected. Like the time I was having a rough day at work, feeling overwhelmed and stressed. I hadn’t told him much, just that I was having a hard time. Later that evening, he showed up at my door with a tub of my favorite ice cream and a stack of movies.

“I figured you could use a break,” he said with that easy smile of his. “And maybe some company?”

I couldn’t help but smile back, feeling the butterflies fluttering stronger than ever. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

But don't know how you would take it

Why do you do what you do to me?

He chuckled, a little embarrassed. “Just trying to be a good friend.”

But the way he looked at me when he said it, I knew there was more to it than that. And that was when the nervous excitement hit me hardest. I was falling for him—harder and faster than I’d expected—and it terrified me.

As the days with Oscar grew longer, so did the feelings I was trying to keep in check. Those butterflies that started as a gentle flutter had turned into a storm inside me, making it harder to ignore what was happening. I was falling for him, and it scared me to death.

One evening, after another perfect day with Oscar, I sat alone in my apartment, staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I could see it in my own eyes—how happy I was, how alive I felt. But underneath that happiness was a growing fear, a fear I couldn’t shake no matter how hard I tried.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” I whispered to my reflection, frustration lacing my voice. “Why are you letting yourself feel this way again?”

I thought about the last time I’d let myself fall, how it had ended in tears and broken promises. I had sworn to myself that I wouldn’t go through that again, that I’d protect my heart at all costs. But here I was, teetering on the edge of another fall, and I couldn’t decide whether to jump or pull back.

When I was with Oscar, everything felt right. He made me laugh, he made me feel seen, and he made me believe—if only for a moment—that maybe this time could be different. But when I was alone, the doubts would creep in. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if I was just setting myself up for another heartbreak?

I promised myself I wouldn't fall

But every time I see you, I just wanna risk it all

One night, we were sitting on his couch, a movie playing in the background. I was barely paying attention to the screen, too caught up in my own thoughts. Oscar must have noticed because he nudged me gently.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft and concerned.

I forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

But even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t true. I wasn’t tired—I was scared. Scared of letting him in, scared of what it would mean if I did. I wanted to tell him, to lay it all out there, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I just sat there, feeling the frustration build inside me.

Oscar turned to face me, his brow furrowed in that adorable way he did when he was trying to figure something out. “Are you sure? You seem… I don’t know, a little distant tonight.”

I bit my lip, the battle raging inside me. Part of me wanted to tell him everything, to spill out all the fears and doubts that were eating me up inside. But another part of me, the part that had been hurt before, told me to keep quiet, to protect myself.

“It’s nothing,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “Just… a lot on my mind.”

He didn’t push, but I could see the concern in his eyes, and that only made me feel worse. Here was this amazing guy who was nothing but kind and patient with me, and I couldn’t even bring myself to be honest with him. The frustration gnawed at me, making my heart ache.

Later that night, after Oscar had walked me home, I sat on my bed, my mind racing. Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t I just tell him how I felt? I grabbed a pillow and hugged it to my chest, trying to quiet the turmoil inside me.

I closed my eyes, remembering a conversation I’d had with my best friend not too long ago. She had told me, “You have to take risks in love, Y/N. You can’t protect yourself from everything, or you’ll never really experience it.”

Her words echoed in my mind, and I knew she was right. But knowing and doing were two very different things. I wanted to take the risk, I wanted to let myself fall for Oscar, but every time I got close, the fear would pull me back.

The next time we hung out, the tension was still there, lurking beneath the surface. We were at a small, cozy restaurant, sharing a plate of fries and talking about nothing in particular. Oscar was his usual charming self, making me laugh with some ridiculous story about his latest racing practice. But even as I laughed, the frustration was bubbling up inside me.

“You know,” he said, dipping a fry in ketchup, “I’ve been thinking about going on a road trip. Just get in the car and drive, no destination in mind. What do you think?”

I smiled, trying to focus on the conversation. “That sounds amazing. I’ve always wanted to do something like that.”

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Maybe you could come with me. We could just take off, leave everything behind for a while. What do you say?”

My heart leaped at the idea, but then the doubts crashed in like a tidal wave. What if I said yes? What if we spent all that time together, and I ended up falling even harder, only for him to not feel the same way? The thought terrified me, and I felt the words catch in my throat.

“I… I don’t know,” I stammered, trying to keep my voice steady. “I mean, it sounds great, but…”

“But?” he prompted gently, leaning in closer.

I looked down at my hands, fiddling with the napkin on my lap. “It’s just… I don’t want to mess things up, you know? What if…”

He reached across the table and placed his hand over mine, his touch warm and reassuring. “Hey, whatever it is, you can talk to me. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words should have comforted me, but instead, they made the frustration even worse. How could I explain that the thing I was most afraid of was exactly that—that he wouldn’t go anywhere, that he’d stay, and I’d end up falling too deep?

And baby, yeah, I know it ain't right

But the chemistry we have is so hard to fight

I took a deep breath, trying to find the courage to speak. “Oscar, I… I like spending time with you. A lot. But sometimes, I get scared, you know? I’ve been hurt before, and I don’t want to go through that again.”

His expression softened, and he squeezed my hand gently. “I get it. I really do. But I’m not those other people, Y/N. I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I know,” I whispered, my voice barely holding steady. “But it’s still hard. I want to let go, to just… be with you, but I’m afraid of what might happen if I do.”

Oscar looked at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. Then he nodded, his grip on my hand tightening just a little. “It’s okay to be scared. But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We can take this as slow as you need to. I’m not in a rush.”

His words were exactly what I needed to hear, but even as he spoke them, I could feel the frustration gnawing at me. I wanted to believe him, I wanted to trust that things could be different this time, but the fear still lingered, a shadow that wouldn’t quite go away.

As we walked out of the restaurant that night, his arm around my shoulders, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions—gratitude for his understanding, frustration with myself for holding back, and a deep, aching longing for the security I so desperately wanted. I knew I had to make a choice soon, to either let go and take the leap, or pull back and protect my heart. But the decision wasn’t easy, and the battle between vulnerability and protection raged on inside me, unresolved.

The tension had been building for weeks, like a tightly wound spring ready to snap. Every time Oscar and I spent time together, I could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. I knew I had to say something, to finally let him know how I felt, but fear had kept me silent. That all changed one evening when the moment of truth arrived, unplanned and unexpected.

And I just wanna hold you all night long

Whenever I'm around you, nothing's wrong I'm hoping that you'll always be around

It was a Friday night, and Oscar had invited me to watch one of his races on TV. We’d done this a few times before, but this time felt different. Maybe it was the way he seemed extra excited, or maybe it was just the way my heart pounded every time I looked at him. Either way, I knew something was going to happen that night.

We were sitting on his couch, the glow of the TV casting soft shadows across the room. The race was in full swing, but I was only half-watching, too caught up in my own thoughts. Oscar, on the other hand, was fully engrossed, his eyes glued to the screen, a smile playing on his lips as he watched the cars speed around the track.

“You’re really into this, huh?” I teased, trying to lighten my own mood.

He grinned, not taking his eyes off the screen. “You have no idea. There’s just something about the adrenaline, the speed… it’s like nothing else.”

I smiled, but the butterflies were back, and they weren’t the good kind this time. I felt a knot in my stomach, a sense of urgency that I couldn’t ignore any longer. I had to say something—tonight.

You got me on a high, I don't wanna come down And I love it, I love it (these butterflies)

Said I love it, I love it (I'm on a high)

Love (And I just wanna love on)

And I just wanna love on you

As the race neared its end, Oscar finally turned to me, his expression full of excitement. “That was incredible, wasn’t it? I swear, every time I watch, it just gets better.”

“Yeah, it was great,” I replied, but my voice was distant, my mind elsewhere.

He noticed immediately, his smile fading a little. “Hey, what’s up? You seem… off. Did something happen?”

I hesitated, my heart racing faster than any of the cars we’d just watched. This was it, the moment I’d been dreading and anticipating all at once. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but the words caught in my throat.

“Y/N, talk to me,” Oscar urged, his voice gentle but firm. He reached out and took my hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

I looked down at our intertwined hands, the sight of them together giving me a strange mix of comfort and anxiety. I knew I couldn’t keep this to myself any longer. I had to let him in, or I’d lose my chance.

“Oscar, I… I need to tell you something,” I began, my voice trembling slightly.

Just wanna love, just wanna love on ya (uh, uh) Just wanna love, just wanna love on ya (uh, uh)

Ay, ay (uh, uh)

He squeezed my hand, his eyes locked onto mine. “I’m listening.”

I took another deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. “I’ve been holding back… a lot. And it’s not because I don’t enjoy spending time with you—I do. More than I can even explain. But the truth is, I’m scared. I’m scared of what might happen if I let myself really fall for you.”

Oscar’s expression softened, but he didn’t say anything, just letting me speak.

“I’ve been hurt before, Oscar,” I continued, my voice thick with emotion. “And every time I’ve let myself fall, it’s ended badly. I don’t want to go through that again. But at the same time, I can’t deny what I’m feeling. Being with you makes me happy, really happy, but it also terrifies me. I don’t want to get hurt again, and I don’t want to hurt you either.”

And I just wanna know you would catch me if I fall

If you tell me yeah, boy I might just risk it all If you tell me no, it's okay, then I will leave (ooh)

I hope you feel the same, you're the only one I see

I see, I see

The room was silent except for the hum of the TV, and for a moment, I was afraid I’d said too much, that I’d scared him away. But then Oscar reached out, gently lifting my chin so I was looking directly into his eyes.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice steady and reassuring, “I can’t promise that nothing will ever go wrong. I can’t promise that I’ll never make a mistake. But what I can promise is that I’ll always be honest with you, and I’ll always do my best to protect your heart.”

My breath hitched at his words, the sincerity in his eyes breaking through some of the walls I’d put up. “I’m not asking for perfection, Oscar. I just… I just need to know that if I take this leap, you’ll be there to catch me.”

He nodded, his thumb brushing gently over the back of my hand. “I will be. And I want you to know something, too—I’m scared, too. Scared of messing this up, scared of not being what you need. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try, right? Because what we have… it feels real, Y/N. And I think it’s worth the risk.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I blinked them back, a mix of relief and hope swelling in my chest. “It does feel real,” I whispered, my voice shaky. “And I want to try, Oscar. I really do. I’m just… I’m afraid of falling too hard, too fast.”

He smiled then, a soft, understanding smile that made my heart ache in the best way possible. “Then we’ll take it slow. We’ll figure it out together, one step at a time. You don’t have to do this alone.”

I nodded, finally allowing myself to lean into the feelings I’d been holding back. “Okay,” I said, my voice steadier now. “Let’s try.”

Oscar pulled me into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around me in a way that made me feel safe, like maybe—just maybe—I’d found something worth holding onto. As I rested my head against his chest, I could hear the steady beat of his heart, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a sense of peace.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice muffled against his shirt.

“For what?” he asked, his hand gently rubbing my back.

“For being patient with me. For understanding.”

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head. “I’m just glad you trusted me enough to tell me how you’re feeling. We’re in this together now, okay?”

“Okay,” I whispered back, my eyes closing as I allowed myself to relax in his arms.

The fear was still there, lingering at the edges of my mind, but it didn’t feel as overwhelming now. For the first time, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I could let go of the past and embrace whatever the future held with Oscar by my side. And as we sat there together, the tension that had been building for so long finally began to melt away, replaced by a sense of hope and possibility.

The night after our conversation, I couldn't stop replaying everything in my head. I had bared my heart to Oscar, and instead of retreating, he’d held on, promising to take things slow and be there for me. It was a step forward, but the fear still lingered, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I knew that what happened next would either solidify my trust in him or shatter everything we’d been building.

Just wanna love, just wanna love on ya

A few days later, Oscar invited me over for dinner. He had planned to cook—something simple, he’d promised, since we both knew his culinary skills weren’t exactly top-notch. But it wasn’t the dinner that had me on edge; it was the feeling that this night was going to be a turning point for us.

When I arrived at his apartment, I was greeted by the smell of something delicious wafting through the air. Oscar met me at the door, a slightly frazzled but excited look on his face.

“I hope you’re ready for the best—or at least, the least disastrous—pasta you’ve ever had,” he joked, stepping aside to let me in.

I smiled, feeling a little lighter. “As long as it’s edible, I’m happy.”

We sat down to dinner, and to my surprise, the pasta was actually really good. We laughed and talked like we always did, but there was a new layer to our conversation now—an openness that hadn’t been there before. Every time our eyes met, I felt a warmth spread through me, a connection that was deepening with every word we exchanged.

After dinner, we moved to the couch, the remnants of our meal forgotten on the kitchen counter. Oscar put on some music, something soft and soothing, and we settled in, his arm draped around my shoulders. For a while, we just sat there in comfortable silence, the music filling the space between us.

“Y/N,” he said after a while, his voice low and serious, “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other night. About being scared and wanting to take things slow.”

I tensed slightly, my heart rate picking up. “Yeah?”

He nodded, his thumb gently rubbing circles on my shoulder. “I just want you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I meant what I said—I’m here, and I’m in this with you. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

His words washed over me like a balm, soothing the anxiety that had been gnawing at me for so long. But there was still a part of me that needed more, that needed to see if he was really willing to stand by me, even when things got tough.

“Oscar,” I began hesitantly, “I appreciate that. I really do. But… what if things get hard? What if I freak out or push you away? I’m not always good at this, at letting people in.”

He turned slightly to face me, his eyes serious and full of warmth. “Then I’ll be here, waiting. I’m not going to push you to move faster than you’re ready for, but I won’t let you push me away, either. We’ve got something good here, Y/N, and I’m not about to give up on it.”

My chest tightened, emotion swelling up in me. It was everything I wanted to hear, but there was still that small, lingering doubt, the voice in my head whispering that it was too good to be true.

“What if… what if one day you wake up and realize you don’t want to do this anymore? That you don’t want to deal with my issues?”

He shook his head, his expression unwavering. “That’s not going to happen. I’m here because I want to be, because I care about you. We’re both going to have our moments—times when we’re scared or uncertain—but that’s part of it, right? It’s not about being perfect; it’s about being there for each other, even when things aren’t easy.”

His words hit me deep, breaking down some of the last barriers I’d been holding onto. I wanted to believe him, to trust that he meant every word. And the way he was looking at me now, with such sincerity and conviction, made it impossible not to.

“I’m trying, Oscar,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m trying to let go of all the fear and just… be with you. But it’s hard.”

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting gently against mine. “I know it is. But you don’t have to do it alone. We’ll take it one day at a time, okay? No pressure, no rush. Just us, figuring it out together.”

I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath against my skin, the steady beat of his heart against mine. “Okay,” I breathed, finally allowing myself to let go of some of the fear I’d been holding onto. “One day at a time.”

We stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, the silence between us comfortable and reassuring. For the first time in a long while, I felt a sense of peace, a quiet hope that maybe—just maybe—I could trust in this, in us.

As the evening wore on, Oscar pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. “Do you want to stay tonight? No pressure, of course. We can just watch a movie or something.”

I hesitated, the old fears still whispering in the back of my mind, but they were quieter now, drowned out by the warmth and security I felt in his presence. “I’d like that,” I said softly, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I’d like that a lot.”

He smiled back, his eyes lighting up in that way that always made my heart skip a beat. “Good. I’ll go grab some blankets.”

As he got up to gather the blankets, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over me. This was new territory for me—allowing myself to be vulnerable, to trust someone else with my heart. But with Oscar, it didn’t feel as terrifying as it once had. It felt right.

Later, as we lay on the couch, wrapped up in blankets and each other’s arms, I felt the last of my apprehension melt away. This wasn’t about perfection or guarantees; it was about trust, about taking things one step at a time, together. And for the first time, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I could really do this.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Oscar murmured against my hair, his voice laced with contentment.

“Me too,” I whispered back, closing my eyes and letting myself drift off into the comfort of his embrace.

As I lay there, surrounded by the warmth of his arms, I knew that this was just the beginning. There would be more challenges ahead, more moments of fear and doubt, but for now, I was content to take things one day at a time, knowing that I wasn’t alone in this journey. And as long as Oscar was by my side, I knew I had something worth holding onto—something real, something that could last.

Just wanna love, just wanna love on ya (uh, uh)

Ay, ay (uh, uh)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚☽˚.⋆ *ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆ ‧₊˚ ⋅✈︎ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

OP81 Taglist: @tallrock35, @yourbane, @evie-119, @asparklysoul, @dhanihamidi, @ilivbullyingjeongin, @ggaslyp1, @cmleitora, @d3kstar

F1 Taglist: @tallrock35, @yourbane, @hiireadstuff, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery, @dhanihamidi, @decafmickey, @cmleitora, @d3kstar

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photmath · 3 months ago

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Comme Les Fleurs - Chapter 11

Chapter 11: After the Storm

Summary: Left with no other options, Kylian must rehab his newly injured leg at a stranger’s home for the next month and she isn’t at all what he expects. Meanwhile, Aurèle has to deal with easily-irritated and sullen Kylian as she opens her home to him.

Word Count: 7.6k

Warnings: anxiety, self-doubt, miscommunication, cursing

Note: Aurie reminding us that even the most strongest and independent people have their moments of doubt and still need reassurance too.

Aurie isn’t in bed next to Kylian when he rolls over and feels for her. Maple is curled at his feet, snoozing with her tail covering her eyes. The sun shines brightly into the room, filling every crevice of the bed that he knows it’s way too early for Aurie to be gone. He listens quietly for the quiet patter of her footsteps, trying to figure out where she wandered throughout the house as she’s not in the restroom.

Scoffing, he rises and dresses himself with his boxers and a pair of shorts. They slept late last night, Kylian staying back to help Aurie break down the decorations of the nursing home, and then laying in a tangle of limbs in her bed. Once it hit two in the morning, they finally slept, after having spent the night together tracing and memorizing every sliver of skin they shared.

Kylian pats Maple’s head, causing her to open her eyes and purr, stretching out towards him. A small smile finds his face as he exits her room and searches for Aurie. Already he knows something is uneasy. The rest of the house reeks of cleaning supplies, drenched dirt, and there’s a low hum of music coming from her library. Thudding down the stairs, he turns towards the library and sees her dusting the bookshelf, a large stack of books on the small table, a second away from collapsing onto the ground.

“Aurie,” he mutters, noticing her in a short pair of night shorts and a loose shirt.

She spins around to face him, her cheeks flushed. “Did I wake you?”

He shakes his head, walking closer to her. “No.”

“Sorry,” she smiles softly at him and then bends down to clean the bottom shelf. She grabs a book and haphazardly places a book on the ever-growing stack, it wobbles, and Kylian steps towards it, holding it.

“Aurie.”

“What’s up?”

“Come on, what are you doing?” He rubs his face, splitting the stack so that it doesn’t fall over on top of her.

“Cleaning.”

“It’s not even seven in the morning yet, Aurie,” he sighs.

Aurie purses her lips, disliking the way he utters her name. She knew he was tired, and she would’ve been too if it weren’t for her mind thinking of a hundred thoughts per second. She didn’t get much sleep last night, constantly thinking about Kylian and his move to Madrid. It was infuriating to be consumed by a man who lived so differently than her, yet made her question what she wants. The same man who seemed to have torn down her walls so easily before but now they were back up.

Before Kylian, she was sure of herself and her career. She had bounced through different departments—pediatrics, geriatrics, nursing homes, out-patient care, physiotherapy for a club—and was sure that the simple life of working at nursing home was it for her, that she wasn’t strong enough mentally to handle any other group, but now she wasn’t sure.

Besides Kylian, she thought of Maria and Estrella’s words, how she does have the time to still figure everything out. Still has time to see where she fits, whether that is in the nursing home or somewhere else. She had the power and skill.

And then Aurie scrambled to the last thought: that Kylian still had yet to ask her if she would even be willing to go to Madrid with him. What if he didn’t? What if he understood what the nursing home, the house and pets, and how much Camille and Simone meant to her, that the thought of splitting them up would never come across his mind, so he wouldn’t even think to ask Aurie—

“Aurie,” Kylian whispers, slipping his hand behind her waist and pulling her closer to him. He grabs a hold of the dusting cloth, prying it out of her hand and setting it down near the edge of the books. “C’mere.”

His warm skin burns her cheeks and neck as his strong arms engulf her. He smells of heat and her bed sheets, the sleep marks still evident in his shoulders. Aurie hugs his waist, clasping her hands where they meet, sighing deeply. She can feel her own body relax and mold into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles.

He kisses her temple, pulling back. His finger traces around her ear. “What are you thinking? Let me in.”

It’s three simple words that Aurie wishes were as simple as saying them. But her tongue knots, her throat closes as she stares at his eyes. They’re soft, but there’s an emotion in them that makes her heart lurch, an ache that travels underneath her breastbone and through her ribs, paralyzing her in that spot. Aurie can plainly see the tension around his eyes and jaw.

“I can’t,” she croaks, slipping out of his grip. Kylian sighs, reeling his arms back slowly, offering her a faint smile but she knows it’s merely out of politeness rather than genuine. “I’m sorry. I know I said I wasn’t going to run away and I’m not, but—I need some time to think.”

“Okay,” he says softly, stepping away from her. The air stills between the two of them, a silence so sudden and profound that even Bleu stutters to a stop, his wagging tail going stiff.

Kylian glances at Bleu, walking out of the library, petting his head before going upstairs. He doesn’t know what to do. Maybe in some way this is her punishment towards him after the past week, but Aurie isn’t that cruel.

His phone buzzes from his pocket as he reaches the top of the stairs, he reads the message from Raphael.

Hey, I found Stefan. I have his mother’s contact information, should I send it?

“Hey,” she says, sandwiching the phone between her ear and shoulder. Escaping to the ballroom to clean the rest of the remnants of last night, she called Martin, needing to talk to him.

“Aurie,” Martin beams. “What do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

Aurie snorts, tossing the last bits of trash into the bin. “Hardly pleasure. Erm, got to ask, are you staying at PSG?”

“Absolutely not,” Martin says curtly. “Management is in shambles. I cannot in good faith stay there and try to micro-manage all their injuries while simultaneously listening to a new staff try and implement their different plans. No one can agree on anything.”

She purses her lips. “That bad?”

“Very, had I not been dealing with this, I would’ve fallen up on more of those in-person visits of Kylian like I said I would, but I knew you could handle him.”

Aurie nods, “So what are you going to do now?”

“Well, at the moment, back to orthopedics, in-patient and out-patient. Rather do that for the next couple of months at least. And you, Aurie? Has taking care of Kylian changed your mind about going back on the field?”

She laughs, sitting down in a seat. “No. Not at all—”

“You aren’t bad, you know? It can be intense and quick-paced, but you have it in you. You always have.”

“I know, I just rather not always be on edge all the time. It’s too much.”

“Mm-hmm,” Martin hums.

“Working with Kylian has made me realize that maybe I can do something else as well. Maybe just volunteer at the nursing home instead of working primarily there.”

“Ah. I saw that you two got very close…” There’s a light-hearted tone in his voice, perhaps teasingly.

“I know,” Aurie cringes, remembering who she’s talking to.

“I mean, technically—”

“Martin, we do not need to have this conversation.”

“Okay okay,” he chuckles. “All I’m saying is that you two got close and now he’s leaving. Is this why you are asking me?”

“Yeah…I don’t know if I want to get back into the hospital setting but maybe.”

“You can always work with me.”

“Martin.”

“Well, maybe not if you are planning on being with Kylian. Look, I don’t have much time on me right now, Aurie, but wherever you end up, you will excel. I’m not sure when and why you ever started doubting your abilities. You are capable of a lot of talented and remarkable things. I would have never selected or trusted you with Kylian had I had any doubt about your ability,” Martin pauses. “Truthfully, I think you should try the in-patient setting again. I know peds scared you, but you didn’t get to see the way those kids and parents walked out of the room when you were there. Maybe even geriatrics. You have given so many people hope, Aurie. You’ll be okay, alright?”

Aurie chokes back a sob. Listening to Martin’s praise reminded her of who she was when she was seventeen and taking his class, immediately getting his attention when she was the only one to pin the diagnosis on a patient of his. What she thought was an example ended up being the diagnosis of a patient he was currently caring for. It was a rare diagnosis, yet, Aurie seemed to know it within ten minutes, asking him all the right questions to arrive at her conclusion. Since then, her skill was highlighted in all of their exams and practical studies.

When she first walked into his class, she would’ve never imagined it leading to where she is now. At seventeen, she wasn’t fearful. She never hesitated, head-on with certainty, yet it all changed five years ago during her mother’s accident.

“Aurie?”

“Yeah,” she musters, sniffling, “okay, yeah, thank you.”

“If you ever need anything, you know you can always call me.”

“I will.”

“And oh hey! I can take over Kylian’s rehab from here. His medical in Madrid revealed that his calf is 95% healed,” he enunciated. “They were impressed with it and want him doing more agility exercises and getting his fitness up. I’ll send you a plan that they shared with me.”

Like a madman on the street, Aurie drove five over the speed limit because there were no nearby cars. It was barely anything over the speed limit, but it felt so damn powerful and exhilarating to steer into her driveway, feeling every jostle and jolt of her car, slamming on the brakes as she stopped in front of her house. Turning it off, she quickly hops out and ruffles Bleu’s fur before bolting through the front door.

Kylian stands there, sweat glistening off his toned biceps through his sleeveless tank. One of his cheeks is bulged as he carries the canister of strawberries.

Aurie’s mouth falls open. “You’re eating my strawberries again?”

A lopsided grin breaks out on Kylian’s face as Aurie nears him, snatching the canister of a few wet strawberries. He bristles, “Hey!”

“Come here.” She grabs his wrist in her other hand and he turns his palm over so that their hands can intertwine. She leads him to the living room and sees that the couch is drawn out into the bed, a blanket loosely drawn over it. She sits down and pats the spot next to her to sit down. “Okay I need to say it now before I start crying, but this is all so stupid.”

His eyebrows crease as his head tilts. “Hmm?”

“I know I haven’t been handling this right and have been very…emotional…but it’s silly because you haven’t even asked me yet.”

Kylian’s hand tightens around hers. He shakes his head, “You haven’t been too emotional. Asked you about what? Madrid?”

Aurie purses her lips, slightly embarrassed. “Not just Madrid, but where we go after this. What this—” Aurie raises their hands together, “—really means? Or what…is this just a summer fling?”

Kylian shakes his head immediately, not being able to hold his laugh as he says, “No, Aurèle, you are not a summer fling.” He lets go of her hand and slots it on her cheek. “You are not a summer fling. I love you. I’m in love with you. Selfishly so, that I would force you onto a plane and move you to Madrid with me if I could, but not only is that illegal…and unfair. You love it here, and I want you to come with me, really, I do, but that is only if you want to come.”

Aurie can feel the tears brimming around her eyes and a tear slipping down that Kylian doesn’t hesitate to wipe away. The small smile he gives her is full of adoration and love. His eyes are a stark difference from the ones she saw this morning.

But he didn’t leave. She left the house this morning, and he had three hours to leave but instead he worked out, spoke with Raphael, ate her strawberries, and waited for her to come back home.

He chuckles, a laugh that is suppressed but he attempts to hide it. “You are going to break my heart if you say no, but that’s okay, you don’t have to tell me your answer right now. I do, however, want you at my presentation. I know you may be reluctant and hate the media’s light, but they think you are my manager, so it won’t be odd that you are there. It’s okay if Madrid is too big for you, hell it might even be too big for me, but I don’t want this to end, Aurie.”

Despite the surge of courage Martin’s call gave her and remembering Maria and Estrella’s words from last night, she feels like she needs to debate just one more time about moving to Madrid—and the only way to do that is to get her career in order. She needed to cross her t’s and dot her i’s before she left.

The idea of being at Kylian’s presentation terrifies her. Her window was a blatant reminder of what happened during the first and last time she was under the cameras of the public with Kylian. But, the hope in Kylian’s eyes causes her to utter the words before she can stop herself. “I’ll be at your presentation.”

“Really?” His mouth falls open in a gleeful smile like a child being promised ice cream on their way home.

Aurie rubs his hand with her thumb, exhaling a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

Kylian kisses her cheek, letting his lips linger. “Thank you.” He faintly tugs her with his hand and captures her lips, sealing the promise with a kiss. When he retreats, Aurie feels a surge of heat travel through her body.

“I don’t want this to end either, Kylian,” she whispers. “I need to figure out my job, what happens to this house, my animals—if I do end up moving to Madrid permanently.”

“You need me to convince you?” Kylian proposes with a smirk.

Aurie laughs, hitting his chest with her hand. “No. I just don’t want to leave with many things unfinished.”

“You can always come back.”

“I know, but if I come back and there are problems…I’ll want to stay and fix them.”

“Okay.” He smiles, leaning against the couch, and pulling her into his chest. His arms swallow her whole as he kisses her forehead. “Thank you. For not running away and talking about this. You don’t have to decide everything right now, Aurie, although I know you were probably lying awake thinking about this the entire time, hmm?”

She nods sheepishly, chuckling as she draws little shapes on his clothed chest. “I wanted to wake you up in the night and tell you to just rip off the bandaid, let me know if you want me in Madrid or not.”

His chest vibrates. “You really thought you were a summer fling?”

“No,” she scowls, sitting up to face him. His hand traces the edge of her jaw as he smiles, it’s such a hazy smile behind hooded eyes that if he were anyone else she would’ve asked him if he were drunk. “My mind went there as I thought of the words, trying to describe a short-term girlfriend.”

Kylian snorts, shaking his head languidly. “I don’t know what else I need to do to prove to you how much I love you and would wait for you. I know we moved fast, but I’m sure of it, there is no one else I would rather have beside me than you.”

Aurie simpers, pecking his nose. His words felt like an arrow shooting right into her heart, striking with all its might, imprinting into her, and if she were to pull it out, it would leave a gaping hole that would never be filled. They gave her reassurance, that her worries weren’t for nothing, and that of course Kylian would be patient, would be willing, and wouldn’t rush her to uproot her entire life.

He knew when he walked into her house that falling in love with her would be damn near impossible, but he also wasn’t going to force this girl, who brought the smile to all of her residents and her niece, out of the town. Sure, he would get on his knees and beg for it, but it was Aurie’s decision at the end of the day. And she had a lump of baggage to sort through.

“You don’t have to do anything else. I know you do.” Aurie nestles her head back into the space between his arm and shoulder, her nose scrunching. “You’re kinda stinky, but I love you.”

He pulls her closer, tightening his arms around her so that she can’t wiggle out. “That’s a bit rude, chérie.”

Within the next two days, Aurie reluctantly straightens out her résumé and sends it to one hospital in Madrid, one that she has volunteered for back when she had the stint with the Spanish national team. Martin also enjoyed this particular hospital, so she knew if he had nothing but good things to say about it, then it was good.

She sent it in the middle of the night as Kylian laid with an arm strewn over her lap, snoring softly. She debated on sending it for thirty minutes, switching over the tabs repeatedly, until finally, thirty minutes later, she sent it while muttering a small, “Fuck it.” She shut her laptop and scooted it towards the end of her bed. Closing her eyes, she snuggled into Kylian’s body and sleep came swiftly.

In the morning, Aurie stirs awake before Kylian. Her legs are intertwined in his, sandwiched tightly around his muscled thighs. When she untangles from him, she kisses his cheek demurely, making his eyebrows twitch and turn toward the pillow. She kisses him again, running her hands over the planes of chest.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, his eyes slowly fluttering open.

“I’m going to head to the nursing home,” she says, because really, she did have an actual shift today. Kylian’s lips curl into a smile, his eyes still groggy as he rubs them, not interpreting any of her words. Aurie chuckles, kissing his forehead. “Okay I’m leaving, Kylian.”

“No,” he rasps, grabbing a hold of her propped wrist and pulling her back down.

“I’m going to be late for work.”

“Shhh,” he hums, pulling her back down to his warm frame. “Or take me with you.”

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“They love me,” he smiles, pecking her cheek. “And they love you.”

Aurie smiles, her eyelashes fluttering against his skin. They do love Kylian, and while no one would really care that he was there, it was still…odd? But she also didn’t care to ponder about it, he could volunteer to help some of the residents if he wanted to while she made her rounds, either way, she needed to start getting ready.

“If you want to come, you have about thirty minutes.”

“Thirty?” His eyes pop open.

She shrugs, “Yes.”

“Jesus, Aurie, how do you get ready so quickly and are so calm for something that starts in thirty minutes?”

“It is my first day back, officially, so…I don’t know,” she says nonchalantly like it explains everything. “I’ll eat there, so don’t have to worry about that. Just quickly shower, and then throw on some scrubs, and then I’m out the door.”

Kylian stares at her as if she suddenly grew antlers from the side of her head. But as much as he would’ve loved to join her, he knew he needed to start his new exercise regimens that he received from the physios at Real Madrid.

He kisses her lips chastely and releases her so that she can get ready. He watches her ruffle up Maple’s sleeping form, rile up Bleu and then grab a set of clothes before trotting towards the restroom. He snorts at the sight, his heart thumping in his eardrums.

He falls back to sleep for what he imagines is five minutes, but in reality it’s been 25 minutes. He wakes up with Aurie kissing his forehead, his chin pinched in her fingertips.

“I’ll see you in a bit, don’t forget dinner with your parents!” And then she rushes out of the bedroom door with the animals in tow.

Kylian is restless when the time of the reservation for the dinner comes, pacing back and forth down the hallway as Aurie stands in the kitchen, casually writing down a list of groceries she needs.

“Ky,” she mutters mindlessly, knowing that he is fretting about something, but doesn’t indulge him because the worry is most likely nothing.

He fusses with the tie on his neck, pulling it off entirely and tossing it onto the couch. He doesn’t need a tie, he realizes, it’s just his family. He undoes the top of the buttons and walks down again, spinning around and then stopping abruptly in the kitchen.

“Yes?”

Aurie perks up at him, leaning against the counter with one hip. Setting the pen down on the notepad, her brows raise, “Have you ever been to a grocery store?”

He sighs, and walks—no, strides—towards her. His hands land on her cheeks, cradling her head before he leans in and kisses her lips. The small stubble he was growing is gone, cleanly shaven that she feels his smooth chin against hers.

“You are beautiful,” he says when he pulls away, exhaling with a ragged breath. He glances down at the white blouse she wears, and then at her black pencil skirt.

She chuckles, her cheeks warm up like the first time he’s ever looked at her for more than two seconds. “So, have you?”

He shakes his head. “It’s been years, possibly six, no seven—eight?”

She laughs, her hands fixing the top of his white button-up. “I hate that you haven’t experienced a grocery store in so long. There’s nothing like the crushing disappointment when you realize they ran out of the ice cream you’ve been craving for days, and then a screaming child is behind you begging their mom for candy.”

Kylian smiles, shaking his head at her rambles, too distracted with the way her necklace is shining underneath the kitchen’s light fixtures. He chuckles as he kisses her jaw.

“Oh! And then of course you always forget something on your list. No matter how many times you think you’ve got everything, nope! And it’s the most important item, too.”

His hands snake behind her waist as he pulls her closer to him, pulling her body closer into him. Her neck is exposed so he pecks it, tickling Aurie in the process.

“What are you fussing about?” Aurie asks.

He sighs, resting his head against her shoulder. “I’m just nervous. Worried that the media will find us.”

Aurie smiles softly, hugging his shoulder blades. “They won’t.”

“And if they do?”

“Then,” Aurie shrugs. “Oh well.”

“You won’t be mad?”

“No, I’m more focused on meeting your family than the media.” And it’s the truth for Aurie. The media is at the bottom of her worries for tonight. She also frets about Camille and Raphael making it on time. If she’s going to move to Madrid, she’ll need to get used to cameras.

When Kylian peels away, Aurie massages the worry lines on Kylian’s face, chuckling at the way his lips pucker out.

“They’re going to love you,” he whispers.

“I know you say that, but you know, I still don’t want to do anything embarrassing.”

Kylian grins. “Like what?”

“Fall on my face?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“You’ll be surprised what happens when I’m under pressure.”

“Can promise there’s no water bottles,” he smirks, referencing the time she recounted her spraying the Marseille player with water.

She gasps. “Hey!”

His lips split into a laugh as he grabs a hold of her face and kisses her. “I’m kidding! But let’s go, Mac and Paul are here.”

Making their way to the car, Kylian holds open the door and Brice sits in the backseat, who waves with a welcoming smile. “Aurie, hello.”

“Hi.”

Paul turns his head from the passenger seat. “Please tell me you aren’t trying to flood the car again.”

“Oh, my god,” Aurie groans as she sits down, a chuckling Kylian behind her, slithering his hand onto her thigh.

“You know, Brice,” Kylian says, glancing at him. “Aurie called you cute when she first saw you.”

Aurie’s cheeks redden, palming her face. She isn’t sure how she suddenly became the butt of the joke, but she wasn’t going to let them run away with it. “Was I supposed to call him ugly?” The boys snicker, and Aurie taps Paul’s shoulder. “And I didn’t see you attempting to cool him down.”

Paul laughs, throwing his head back, his beaded locs slam against the headrest. It’s the first time Paul shows any personality in front of Aurie, even Mac cracks a small smile from the driver seat. Kylian’s security detail that he kept in place around her house were cordial, never talked to her, not that she minded. She would see them playing with Bleu occasionally but that was about all they gave through their tough exterior. Just three men whose names she mixed up.

“I heard that you took Kylian driving,” Paul says, angling his body towards Aurie. Kylian intertwines his hand with Aurie’s, leaning his head on the headrest, simpering.

Aurie narrows her eyes. “Mmm, yes he was scared the entire time.”

Kylian gasps. “For a good reason!”

Paul snickers as he intigates, “Come on, Kylian, you’re going to Madrid without a license.”

Kylian’s jaw drops, glancing between Aurie and Paul and hearing a stifled laugh from behind him. How are they suddenly teaming up against him now? “Alright now.”

Aurie laughs at his antics. She sticks out her hand towards Paul who shakes it, silently acknowledging their success to get underneath Kylian’s skin. Paul turns around while Aurie, noticing Kylian’s small pout, kisses the back of his hand.

“Tatie Aurie!” Simone leaps off the bench and runs towards Aurie. Camille and Raphael are right behind her, hand in hand. There are hardly any cars in the parking lot of the restaurant. The incandescent lights that line the restaurant cast a glow on Simone’s pale blue dress.

Kylian doesn’t hold Aurie’s hand, worried of paparazzi lurking nearby, though so far it seems calm. They chose a restaurant in Aurie’s town, knowing that the quietness of it wouldn’t draw much attention and renting it out for the night would be easier on such short notice. His entire family was already inside, having arrived about ten minutes ago.

“Hi, Keelan,” Simone greets once Aurie picks her up. She gives Kylian a small wave from the crook of Aurie’s shoulder. Kylian chuckles, waving back to her and then introducing her to Brice.

Camille and Raphael stand up once they meet at the bench. Aurie settles Simone back onto the floor and Kylian fixes the side of Aurie’s blouse. She turns around, thanking him with a smile and his knees go weak. She slots her arm around his back like it��s second nature.

Brice gets the front door and they make their way inside, the hostess leading them towards their table. The lights are drawn down, the only lighting coming from hanging bulbs, a kind of elegance that you would find in the city. It was a wonder she had no idea about this place, it was stunning.

There was some greenery hanging throughout the ceiling, being able to see hints of what it would look like in the daytime. Kylian nudges Aurie to keep walking as she gets distracted, his hand finding her lower back.

“It’s pretty in here,” she whispers. “Seems expensive.”

Kylian snorts. “Hardly. It’s just a pretty restaurant.”

She knows it isn’t expensive, but the ambience is rich. They chose a very good place, one in which she would visit again.

Kylian perks up when he sees his family. His parents, Fayza and Wilfried, are seated on one end, Ethan sandwiched between his niece and nephew—Lana and Isayah—and then Melissa beside Lana. Intertwining his hand with Aurie’s, he pulls her past the hostess and Brice. Aurie laughs, tightly holding onto him.

His nephew and niece greet him first excitedly, getting up from their seats and immediately jumping at his side. Kylian hugs them and then one by one he introduces Aurie and her family to his own. They each draw her in for a hug; Lana and Isayah immediately friending Simone and kicking Ethan out of his seat so that they can sit together.

Afterwards, Kylian pulls out Aurie’s chair and she sits in between Camille and him, Simone across from her, already engaged in an animated conversation with Lana.

It’s Fayza who catches Aurie’s eyes throughout the beginning part of dinner, she glances at her, staring at her and Kylian carefully. Kylian speaks enthusiastically amongst his family, wanting to hear what they’ve been up to more in detail since he’s been gone, and then highlights some of what Aurie has done for his recovery. There’s no way someone could miss how happy Kylian is at that moment. Fayza’s quiet, presumably soaking in the conversation like the rest of them, but Aurie feels like she’s silently assessing her.

Aurie stifles a smile, earning a snort from Camille who then jabs her side with her elbow. Aurie leans in towards her sister and whispers, “Don’t start.”

“That’s about the fakest smile I have ever seen in my life.”

“I feel like this is a test,” Aurie whispers, catching Raphael’s ear who chuckles quietly.

“You are doing fine, really,” Camille assures.

Raphael nods. “Stop doing that smile though…seems odd. You have a naturally resting smile, so just do that.”

Aurie’s face warms when Kylian’s hand slides underneath the table and clasps his hand with her own. Aurie forces a smile that quickly fades, her awareness of every muscle on her face sharper than ever.

A waiter distracts them as they place the order of their meals, a variety of pasta dishes. Kylian smiles bashfully as he strokes her hand with his thumb. “Stop worrying, mi amor.”

“Mi amor?” Aurie raises her eyebrow.

“Practicing.”

Aurie chuckles, feeling some of the tension ease off her shoulders with Kylian’s brief interaction. His squinting eyes and glowing face, he looked so handsome underneath this kind of light—and his happiness is contagious.

The kindness Kylian’s family shows the staff doesn’t go unnoticed by Aurie or her sister. Their manners are all profound, even the youngest of them, and Aurie watches them as they point to the menu of what they’d like. Simone sneaks glances at Aurie across the table, giggling when she does a silly face and then hides her face with the menu.

“She’s made friends,” Camille laughs.

“And look at you, you were worried she wouldn’t make friends in school when she starts next year.”

Camille shakes her head. “Because she can be too blunt.”

“She’s a kid, you know how they are. We certainly were like that.”

Raphael nods, blowing a raspberry. “Tell me about it.”

“Hey,” Camille interjects. “You didn’t have to tag along.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Well you should’ve made other friends instead of always following me around.”

“You are all I need,” Raphael winks at her and Aurie snorts, a bubbly but loud noise that grabs the attention of the rest of the table.

“Did you just snort?” Ethan chimes, amusement in his eyes.

Aurie embarrassingly drinks a sip of her wine as the rest laugh, before setting it down. “It comes out sometimes.”

“All the time,” Kylian notes, raising his finger.

“You aren’t that funny.”

The table immediately bursts into a laugh—including Fayza—not that Aurie was taking note of it. She slaps her hand over her mouth to cover her own laugh and looks back at Kylian, quickly muttering, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Melissa interrupts. “That was good.” She raises her glass for Aurie to clink with hers. Kylian is slightly flustered as they clink glasses, smiling fondly.

He leans in to kiss Aurie’s cheek and whispers softly, just for her to hear, “I love you.” Aurie's smile widens and Kylian’s breath catches, brushing her cheek with his thumb before intertwining his fingers with hers again.

Conversation flows swiftly, Aurie grows increasingly at ease, even when the discussion shifts to focus on her. Kylian, never once breaking his gaze from her, becomes more certain that Aurie is the one for him. She speaks with such ease, striking the perfect balance between professionalism and passion, without coming across as inauthentic. Impressionably, she doesn’t back down when Wilfried asks in-detail about her career choices. Kylian knows he can interject but Aurie doesn’t need him to.

Aurie should have known that Fayza was going to be the least of her problems, because the interrogation that Wilfried was putting her under, even Camille grabbed her other hand underneath the table.

“Why did you leave PSG?”

“To be frank, I became too emotionally invested in working as a physio,” she replies candidly. Thank god for the many sips of wine that she had. She’s sweating under his gaze. “Too many season-ending injuries. It felt like I was putting in a long time with these athletes just for them to get tackled and reinjure themselves. It was beginning to take a toll on me.”

“So then you went to the nursing home?”

“Not necessarily in that order,” she says meekly. “I worked in a hospital prior and then settled at the nursing home next door. I am specialized in pediatric and geriatric care, orthopedics as well.”

“Ah, impressive,” Fayza responds, eyeing Wilfried. With that glance from Fayza, Wilfried tips his glass towards Aurie, and she’s never been so thankful for the conversation to subside there, immediately sipping on the glass in a silent toast, and then exhaling a deep breath quietly.

Camille squeezes Aurie’s hand and then retreats it. She gives Aurie a thumbs up before the attention returns to Kylian. His eyes are more glossy than Aurie remembers them, perhaps it’s a mixture of the lighting or the wine, but it’s endearing.

“I’ll be right back,” Kylian excuses himself, following his mother to the terrace. She made a subtle sign earlier for him to follow her, and he’s barely gaining the confidence to get up and follow her. He kisses Aurie’s head before finding his mother outside. The cool air hits him when he opens the terrace door, the wind blowing the door open more forcibly than he anticipates.

Fayza chuckles, a lit cigarette in between her lips. “Are you drunk?”

“Non,” Kylian mutters, closing the door.

“Wine drunk has always looked so interesting on you. Can’t hold your liquor at all.”

Kylian smiles softly, relishing the wind rippling against his shirt. He hadn’t realized how nervous he was for both him and Aurie just now.

“I knew I would like her when you first told me about her,” she starts. “But I think I enjoy her even more now. She’s very smart too.”

“Incredibly.” He sits down in one of the seats.

“What are you worried about then?”

“That she won’t want to leave,” he mutters, glancing away at her careful gaze. “I mean you saw her with her family, they adore her… They’re already tight-knit and deeply protective of each other, just trying to get close with them was tough.”

Kylian sighs, resting his head against his propped fist. Seeing little Simone teasing Aurie from across the table and stealing glances between them throughout the chatter, his chest ached thinking about them being separated by a country-line.

Fayza puts out the lit cigarette in the ashtray and sits down in front of her son. “They are, I can tell. You aren’t going to separate them, Kylian. She’s moved before, without them.”

“I know, but—”

“Seeing the way she is now, she will have no problem traveling for the people she cares about,” Fayza interrupts, and Kylian knows she’s right. “I’ve never seen you so infatuated with someone like this, it’s pure. If it’s true love, the two of you will have no problem adapting to your new life.”

Kylian smiles, nodding alongside her words. He lets her grab his hands and she cradles them protectively.

“Besides, she is very beautiful, strong too. I didn’t think you’d fall in love so quickly with her, but after seeing how she is, I understand,” Fayza chuckles.

They could agree on that as well. Aurie was certainly the most beautiful girl he has ever seen, inside and out. Her heart captured him and locked him inside, and he didn’t want to escape.

“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” Kylian grins, feeling his cheeks grow warm. Fayza squeezes his cheeks, making him laugh.

When the two of them make their way back inside, Kylian heads to the men’s room while Fayza saunters back to the table quietly, sitting in Kylian’s spot. Before he can even stop her, Raphael whistles at him and motions him down the hallway.

“Have you contacted Stefan’s mother yet?”

Kylian shakes his head. “Was waiting on a couple of things.”

“Like what?”

“Whether or not Aurie would be at my presentation and my official announcement to the team.”

“When is that?”

“Tomorrow…”

“And your presentation?”

“Not until a few weeks,” Kylian scratches his neck. “You and Camille and Simi are invited by the way”

Raphael smiles briefly, “Thanks man. I’m sure Simi will enjoy that.”

Meanwhile, Aurie and Fayza disappear onto the terrace. Simone, growing restless and sleepy, rests her head against Camille’s shoulder.

Aurie frets with her skirt once she steps outside, unsure whether to sit or admire the small garden, she does the latter.

Fayza smiles warmly when she stands next to Aurie. “This place is beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” Aurie pinches several flower petals between her fingers.

“Kylian told me about your reluctance to the media,” Fayza continues. “I know the rock being thrown in your window gave you quite a scare, that must’ve been terrifying.”

“Oh,” Aurie says, glancing down. She lets out a forced laugh, “Erm, yeah, a bit. But it’s fixed now, and I feel safe knowing it was all resolved.”

Fayza laughs. “Aurie, you have nothing to worry about. I completely adore you.”

Aurie grins, leaning against the garden’s railing. “Sorry, I am just a little tipsy. I apologize, genuinely, but I’m nervous.” Aurie lets out a shaky exhale, one that she had been holding since Fayza sat down next to her.

“No worries at all, you and my son both seem to be that way—tipsy.” Aurie laughs alongside Fayza. “Anyway, I know being in the spotlight of the media seems daunting and downright scary, but you won’t always have to be in the spotlight. We’re very private and if you don’t want to be in the limelight all the time, that’s perfectly fine. You’ll never be forced to explain yourself.”

Aurie nods, digesting her words. Slowly, they calm her nerves.

“Unfortunately, it will always be a factor, Aurie,” she continues. “But it’s about how you let it affect you. How you react to it or choose to embrace it. You can stay away from social media, set everything to private, or even delete your accounts altogether, but don’t let it hinder you from being with someone you love, okay?”

“Yes, that’s very wise. Thank you for those words,” Aurie says breathlessly. This all but intrigued her and comforted in one go.

Fayza laughs. “You said you were currently looking at jobs?”

“Oh, yes!” Aurie excites. “Well, I only applied to one at a hospital. It’s for geriatrics, the older population. It’s a smaller hospital, and I expect to hear a call back, but—” Aurie shrugs, “—kind of nervous for the first time. I debated applying for a long time the other night and really the idea of starting over in a hospital nauseates me.”

“You’ll be great there. I can tell you bring the kind of energy that lights up the entire room. You showed it tonight.”

“Thank you.” Heat creeps against Aurie’s cheeks. “I appreciate your words, immensely. I needed the extra boost in confidence…been an uncharacteristically few days feeling down.”

Fayza empathizes and holds her arms wide, beckoning for Aurie to hug her. Aurie doesn’t hesitate, chuckling nervously when she wraps her arms around Fayza. Her head rests against her shoulder, feeling small but reassured that everything would be okay.

She blinks away the tears, not wanting to ruin Fayza’s blouse, but her words did mean a lot to her. Hearing them from someone who had yet to meet her in person gave her a newfound confidence—a better judgment than anyone who knew her because Fayza immediately saw Aurie through any walls she attempted to put up.

“You are very lovable, it’s no wonder he fell in love with you so fast.”

Aurie laughs as a tear slips, wiping it away quickly.

As they hug and say their goodbyes, Melissa strikes up a conversation with Camille, the kiddies run alongside the sidewalk after their energy was revived with ice cream for dessert. Kylian’s hand tightly grips Aurie’s, not letting her go as he speaks to his family,

Ethan seems bashful in front of Aurie, and she can’t tell why, but she doesn’t pick on him despite it being on the tip of her tongue.

“I’ll see you at the presentation?” Ethan asks, glancing down.

“You will, it was nice meeting you,” Aurie says.

“You too,” he nods, before Kylian engulfs him into a hug.

“See you later,” Kylian utters towards his brother.

Finally, Aurie untangles their hands and waves at Ethan once more before strolling over to Camille and Raphael. They've moved closer to Paul and Mac, who are standing outside the car, playfully teasing the kids. As Aurie passes Melissa, she gets a warm hug, and Melissa then gathers her children from Paul. Aurie chuckles as she watches Simone leap up to give Paul a high-five.

Camille and Raphael embrace Aurie before she bends down and says bye to Simone. Simone wraps her tiny arms around Aurie’s neck before hopping away with a giddy smile.

On the way back to Aurie’s house, Kylian leans his head on her shoulder the entire time and mumbles incoherently, speaking just to speak. Not that Aurie minds, she’s checking her email, waiting to see if there was any update regarding her job position. She waits some agonizing seconds for the app to refresh before finally, there is an email regarding the position. She skims through the introduction and finds the paragraph she’s been waiting for.

Upon reviewing your application, we believe your exceptional skills and experience are better suited for our out-patient geriatrics role, while possibly aiding some of the new in-patient physiotherapists. Your expertise in both in-patient and out-patient rehabilitation and your compassion—

Aurie’s eyes went wide, her application was accepted!

By the time they make it inside, they can’t keep their hands off of each other, not even bothering to make it up the stairs, just settling down on the couch in the living room. Their discarded clothing lines the path from the front door to the couch. She tells Kylian the news when their chests are still silently heaving.

“Ky,” she says, sitting up. She slips on Kylian’s white dress shirt, which distracts him.

“Hmm?”

“I applied to a hospital about two days ago in Madrid,” she murmurs sheepishly, feeling shy under his gaze. He cradles her head against his shoulder, peering down at her.

His brown eyes widened. “Really? That’s amazing—”

“I got it.”

“What?!” He tries to reign in his excitement, but he can’t because if the position was offered, it meant she’s a step closer to moving to Madrid with him. That she was going to choose him. It also meant that she was over her hump of doubting herself. He kisses her forehead with a firm kiss.

“I got the position.”

“Well of course you’d get it,” he beams, pulling her impossibly tighter into his chest. “I’m so proud of you, chérie.”

She silently curses all the doubts that have plagued her over the past few days and weeks. Despite her insecurities, this hospital recognized her exceptional skills and experience at just 25, deeming her capable of teaching the new physiotherapists. Whatever spell she had been under, she hoped it was gone for good.

Although she completed possibly the biggest task she needed to figure out, she still wanted to speak with her mother before she left. She didn’t even want to think about what she would say when she was moving, but Aurie vowed to not let it affect her. She was able to move past many of the things her mother told her, and one more thing wouldn’t hurt.

Aurie squeezes Kylian’s torso tighter, snuggling into him until she finds a comfortable position to sleep. His protective arms wrap around her like a secure cocoon, and she’s never felt so relaxed as she does now.

-----

Note: Almost to the end. :')

Taglist: @karotland @mrs-bellingham @kylianswifey @kymb-10 @fictional-l0v3r @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @itsjuspenny-blog @mattmurdocksbigtoe @formula101x @et-in-arcadia-ego77 @lovekm @okayymochi @titti-maja @jokertbh @venus2eros @heli991113 @neymarloverxxx @444jodie @mm2007 @freespirit-51 @flawlessdiamond1 @euphoriapillz @imagesthatlive @ohpuckyeah @nothingtoes

#em.writes #comme les fleurs #kylian mbappe x oc #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe x reader

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averseunhinged · 2 months ago

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hii! Just saw your promt post, and I was wondering if you could do either Jealous!Klaroline or Klaus comforting caroline after something bad happens to her? sorry if these are too bland 😭😭

hi! thanks for the prompt! i had a lot of fun with it. i'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but i hope you like it. it ended up technically being both prompts in one.

cw for light angst, (kind of mild, i think) jealousy, klaus's issues, caroline's issues, death of a parent, grief, and it's pretty gooey by the end. we went the full-ass gamut in 2k words. no magic babies. very loose adherence to canon. title is from rock of gibraltar by nick cave & the bad seeds.

for the next thousand years

Caroline was wearing color again.

She'd draped herself in mourning black since she'd surprised him at Rousseau's nearly a year ago, still in her funeral dress with her severe hair barely mussed, but barefoot and ghastly bloodless, holding onto her humanity in a white-knuckled grip.

"My mom's dead," she had said, and he'd scooped her up as she collapsed. Cami had quickly ushered them out the back while Caroline began to weep. "How does anyone survive feeling this?" she'd sobbed into his neck as he carried her home.

How does anyone survive feeling this? he still wondered.

Caroline was in color again, a brick red cocktail dress, the close-fitting pencil skirt a demure knee length, but the scooped neckline was risqué. She was laughing and vibrant, witty and magnetic. No one she spoke with could take their eyes off her. She was a charming force of nature, and she'd spent the evening on his brother's arm.

Oh he wasn't stupid. He knew there was nothing going on. Caroline had gifted him with proud, beaming smiles, whenever he caught her eye, and a thousand years at one another's side let him easily read the encouraging looks Elijah had shot him, but there was an additional significance to them Klaus didn't understand.

Still, it was Elijah who ushered her around the room, making introduction after introduction, her hand tucked into his elbow, or his at the small of her back. Klaus could imagine what people thought of them. How charming they were. How perfect for each other. What a lovely couple.

The glass in his hand cracked. He slumped further down at his table in the corner. Rebekah had done a marvelous job fashioning a more modern version of a speakeasy in their home. The lights were warm and low and made everything seem soft-focus, and the crystal glittered under them. There was a live band playing and--

They were doing the damn foxtrot. He didn't know Caroline could foxtrot.

Maybe he should have guessed this would happen. She had been just a small-town cheerleader when they met. Nothing and no one in the grand scheme of things, but she'd still drawn his attention swiftly and irrevocably. He'd known she'd be transcendent once she made her way into the world. Only, he had thought he would be the one on the dancefloor with his arm around her waist.

He was being ridiculous of course. Even if Elijah had been a serious competitor for her affection, rather than an older brother enjoying needling the younger, Klaus wasn't doing himself any favors. He had experience in these matters after all. A long, sullen pout wasn't likely to steal her attention back. He needed to dredge up a bit of the charm and joie de vivre that made her halfway tolerate him in the first place, but the longer he lurked and watched, the more he felt on the verge of causing a scene. In this case, discretion truly was the better part of valor. He liberated a full bottle of bourbon and another tumbler from the catering staff and made a swift exit.

On his way out of the ballroom, he brushed past Camille and tried to do his best impression of someone who very much did not need to talk about his feelings. She saw the bottle of bourbon in his hand and the look on his face and groaned.

"I really don't want to play wise bartender tonight," she said, slightly tipsy.

He rolled his eyes. "So, don't."

"Okay," she agreed to his surprise. "You need to get your shit together."

"Excuse me?" he snapped.

"You didn't want the wise bartender. So, you get your friend, Cami, who is also friends with the source of your angst. I know more about what's going here than you seem to. This is supposed to be a special night, and you're being a dick."

Klaus continued his escape without acknowledging her. Occasionally, it was necessary to concede the last word, if one wanted to avoid eating one's friends.

Out on the balcony, he poured himself a drink and let the guilt gnaw at him. Cami was right about one thing. This was a special night. He wished he could undo this mood he found himself in, but the harder he tried, the more he risked sinking into certain violence. After the first glass, he left it on the table and went to lean on the balcony railing. He shut his eyes, breathed in the night air, and tried to let the sounds of his city unwind the chains around his spine.

The tap-tap-tap of high heels, divorced from the sounds of partygoers and merrymakers, on marble and then hardwood, pulled him out of his attempted meditation. He'd know the sound of her gait anywhere. This was the quick step of anticipation with a dash of nerves, rather than the sharp staccato of impatient annoyance.

"Did my brother run out of important people clamoring for an introduction?" he asked, directing his question toward the view the moment he smelled the sweet, seductive frangipani oil she'd recently begun using as a perfume.

"Oh boy," she muttered under her breath.

There was the delicate clink of glassware on the metal table. He smelled the crisp, heady scent of an excellent champagne before he heard the pour. A glass appeared under his nose, held by a perfectly manicured hand, nails painted gold just a touch paler than the wine. He took the glass from her and ducked his chin to hide the smile that threatened at the appearance of their thing. They touched their glasses together with a crystalline ping.

He made a thoughtful noise after the first sip. "Marie Ledru? I'm surprised we're serving that."

"We're not. I heard it was your favorite, so I got one out of the wine cellar earlier."

Wine cellar was dubious nomenclature for a dungeon where they also happened to store their spirits. He was shocked Caroline ventured down there. It had been left off the initial house tour, since the last thing she'd needed was to be assaulted by the scent of blood and death.

"Well, Elijah's just full of prodition tonight."

"I have no idea what that means," she admitted. "But it was Rebekah, actually. She practically had to draw me a map, because she made Cuvée Goulte sound like a cat choking, and I couldn't begin to guess how to spell that."

"Bekah's French has always been enthusiastic," he laughed into his glass, the bright effervescence of the wine working to lift his mood.

Or perhaps it was the company.

"I know I've been a total disaster since I showed up here," she said. He made a dissenting noise, but she steamrolled over him. "And I'm not exactly sorry about that. My mom deserved to be mourned, and I needed to do that somewhere," she trailed off as her voice tightened until it was barely audible.

He tried to observe her in his peripheral vision without making her feel studied. She was blinking rapidly, her head tilted back as she looked up at the sky. Light pollution made the stars nearly invisible, and the party had purposely been held on the night of the new moon, but she seemed to look beyond, far off to somewhere he couldn't begin to imagine. Lifting the glass to her nose, she breathed in slowly. Her eyes slipped closed. She smiled, small, but true.

She took a sip and held it, tasting it, before beginning again. "I needed to be somewhere no one would judge me for how I grieved. Whether I was doing it too fast or not fast enough. Too publicly or not publicly enough. If I cried as charmingly as Elena does. Mystic Falls is where I come from, and I'll always love it, but I can't spend the next however many years wondering if I'm living up to whatever they think I should be."

"I understand," he said quietly, with more compassion than he typically had, hoping the small undercurrent of disappointment was hidden from her.

"No," she said, and there was an edge of desperation to it that worried him. "I'm still messing it up. I know this wasn't what you had in mind. It hasn't exactly been the reunion you imagined."

She wasn't wrong, but she wasn't right, either. He'd wanted her to come to him when she was ready. Not just for him. He'd wanted her to be ready for herself. Ready to be who she truly was.

He leaned into her, resting his shoulder against hers. "Caroline--"

"I've been trying to be better," she continued before he could disrupt the point she was winding her way towards. "I've been spending a lot of time with Cami, because she gets how it feels to be totally alone in this one specific way. We have friends, sure, but no more family. Not just blood relatives. The real kind, who know everything about us and love us anyway."

It wasn't a notion he enjoyed thinking about. Whatever their disagreements might be, despite the way they irritated him ceaselessly, he held his siblings tight to his chest, hostages to his greed. Caroline had no such ties remaining, and he had no way of giving them back to her. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her, as though he was anchor enough to stop her from floating away.

She left her champagne on the edge of the balcony and burrowed into him, beneath the protective wing of his jacket. In heels, she was too tall to tuck herself under his chin the way Rebekah did when she was younger. Caroline wound an arm around his back and gripped his shirt hard enough to leave wrinkles. She cupped his neck in her other hand, fingers inching into his hair, and tucked her nose into his cheekbone, her forehead to his temple.

Klaus wanted to abandon his own champagne to hold her close, but couldn't bring himself to close the circuit. Instead, he took a sip, hardly tasting it around the distraction of the woman pressed against him.

"I know I've been useless since I got here," she whispered into the soft skin near his ear, her voice so very small, "and not at all the girl you wanted in Mystic Falls. Elijah was already helping me with the financial stuff; so, I asked him to help me learn the ropes in New Orleans, too. I wanted to--"

His glass toppled down into the garden below. It was a waste of fantastic champagne, but he couldn't bring himself to give a damn with her in his arms.

"--prove I belong here," she was still saying, even as he fluttered kisses onto her cheeks. "And I might not feel exactly like the same girl I was before, but I'm still the best parts of her. I'm still something. I'm still--"

"Everything." He pulled away just far enough to see the way the tears she fought were catching in the soot of her blackened lashes. "You're everything."

She looked at him as though he was both ripping her wounds open and sewing them closed. It's all for you, he'd told her once, and longed for a time when she'd accept the tribute he was offering. He'd never dreamed she'd give the same in return.

When she kissed him, it was like that day in the woods outside her hometown, with all the joy of reconnection and none of the sorrow of an imminent parting.

In a while, once they'd had their fill of soaking each other in, he'd take her back inside to their guests and show her off on the dancefloor. If there was anyone else who simply had to meet her, they’d best enjoy doing it with him attached like an additional appendage, because he wasn't letting her out of his arms again that night. Or for the next several days. Or perhaps ever, if she would allow it.

"Happy birthday, Caroline," he pledged against her lips.

How does anyone survive feeling this? she'd asked all those months ago.

Like this, sweetheart.

Exactly like this.

#fic #klaroline #prompts #for extra flavor: marie-noelle ledru was a boutique champagne producer #whose sisters sold 2/3 of their land out from under her to a larger manufacturer #she ended up retiring a few years later because of it #and now bottles go for truly astronomical amounts of money #anyway i thought that fit klaus's vibe in this

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wishcamper · 10 months ago

Text

Nesta, Interrupted: gendered perceptions of alcoholism in ACOSF

CW: addiction, sexual assault, gendered violence.

Creds: I’m a licensed counselor with a degree specialization in treating addiction. I have career experience with multiple modes of mental health, trauma, and substance use treatment in women-specific carceral, institutional, and healthcare settings. And I know anyone can come on the internet and say that, but I pinky promise.

The short version:

ACOSF stigmatizes alcoholism in line with cultural standards.

Western culture feels differently about female and male alcoholics due to systemic sexism, and thus treats them differently.

Women’s experience of alcoholism is often compounded by or even a result of systemic factors and intersectional identity.

Nesta’s treatment in ACOSF, while repugnant, is in many ways very accurate of attitudes today.

(I’ll be using “women/men” and “male/female” to denote cis afab and amab people. Little research exists on the experiences of queer, nonbinary and gender expansive considerations in addiction and recovery, which is a fuckin’ shame. Studies are also largely conducted with white participants due to enormous barriers to treatment for Black, Indigenous, and people of color, so this convo is inherently incomplete where it neglects those intersections.)

Okay, first things first: ACOSF is a book that stigmatizes alcoholism. I will not be taking questions.

The number one thing to understand is that in America, land of Miss Sarah, we are very bad at addiction treatment (tx). Why? Because our culture hates addicts has as stigma around addiction. And female alcoholics bear a very specific set of stigmas based in their identity.

In Susanna Kaysen’s memoir Girl, Interrupted , Kaysen’s character is institutionalized following a non-fatal suicide attempt. When evaluated, she’s diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, that bastion of diagnoses perfect for people (75% of whom are female-identified) who don’t fit into our polite definition of functioning. As the book unfolds, she reflects on how (white) women are often pathologized when they buck against systems of oppression that create the dysfunction in them in the first place. That is not to say other women in the institution are not genuinely in need of help, nor that mental illness in women is always from a systemic wound. But it’s crucial in the treatment of female addiction and mental health disorders to considered the systemic factors of gendered violence and patriarchy, and the attitudes we hold about women who struggle with drinking.

Think about female alcoholics in media. If she’s young, she’s a loose, reckless sl*t looking for trouble and deserving of the reality check when she finds it (Amy Schumer in Trainwreck, Lindsay Lohan in general). Or if the woman are older, they are discarded, or gross, or pathetic, or evil like anyone Faye Dunaway played or Eminem’s mom in 8 Mile (deep cut lol). Men are afforded a much larger spectrum of experiences and struggles - Ernest Hemingway, Leaving Las Vegas, Sideways, the dude from A Star is Born, Frank from Shameless (brilliant), frat boys, blue collar workers, introspective tortured artists, fucking IRON MAN. I could go on forever, but I hope that illustrates the depth and diversity of male-centric stories of alcoholism not often afforded to women.

One of the most empathetic and accurate portrayals of female alcoholism, in my opinion, is in the show Sharp Objects (the book, too, but actually witnessing it makes a difference). We see Amy Adams’ Camille swig vodka from an Evian bottle while fending off vicious, veiled attacks from her verbally and emotionally abusive mother and experiencing flashbacks of teenage sexual assault. We watch her struggle to find emotional safety in her conservative hometown, both wanting to fit in and get out in order to survive. We GET why she drinks and I have trouble blaming her for it even as she wreaks havoc on herself and others. We can see her clawing just to make it out alive, and alcohol is the tool she’s using to do it, for better or worse.

Which is where Nesta enters the chat. When we get our first glimpse of her alcohol use is ACOFAS, it’s portrayed as something everyone knows about but that she’s still mostly keeping it together - her dress is clean, her hair is neatly braided, she doesn’t need a chaperone to show up to a family event. The deterioration between ACOFAS and ACOSF is alarming, and we know that alcoholism is a progressive condition so that tends to happen. Was there a particular trigger? That’s hard to say. Solstice certainly didn’t help, especially with the pressures to perform and conform to the standards of the Inner Circle aka the people in power. I imagine seeing her sisters bouncey and reveling in the world that stole them and killed their father was probably.. tough, to say the least. The barge party seems to be a turning point as well, though this one is more confusing to me. But given the child abuse, extreme poverty, sexual assault, kidnapping, bodily violation, witnessing her father’s murder, almost dying, WAR - and that’s not even to mention essentially becoming a refugee - it would be amazing if she DIDN’T drink. She 100% has complex trauma, and is looking for ways to cope.

No one with full capacity dreams of becoming an addict when they grow up. Addiction, in my professional and personal experience, is largely a strategy for coping with a deeper wound. People don’t drink to feel bad. They drink to feel good, and to survive. Nesta herself is drinking to survive, but it’s having the unfortunate side effect of killing her at the same time. As she slides into active addiction, the thought of her own death may even be comforting, and alcohol in that way is her friend. (There's some interesting research right now framing addiction as an attachment disorder, but I don't know enough to speak on it much.)

So she obviously needs help. That’s not a debate. What is a debate is how the IC should best go about intervening. A variation on the Johnson method is used in ACOSF (the one from the show Intervention) and appears to be successful only because they threaten her if she doesn’t comply. This method has mixed data to support it, and while it’s very good at getting people into tx, there is a higher relapse rate for those who receive it (1). The “family” gathers and tells her the ways she’s hurt them and tell her the consequences if she doesn’t seek the help they’re offering. And again, so many of their reason are the effects on THEM, how she’s making THEM look, not her pain.

The IC’s ignorance and dismissal of her alcoholism in ACOSF is frankly mystifying. Why do they intervene on all the drinking and sexing, anyway? It seems like they’ve been fine enough with it up to this point. But now it's gone too far, not because of her illness but because she is embarrassing them. And I don’t know about you, but between Cassian apparently fucking half of Velaris and Mor’s heavily documented emotional drinking, that’s hard to square. It makes it feel much more likely that they don’t like the way she is coping, that she is not fitting into their picture of who she’s supposed to be. This picture is inherently gendered, because Prythian society and those who live in it have explicit and implicit expectations of gender roles, whether they’ll admit it or not. Cassian and Mor are playing their roles well; Nesta is not.

That leads me to believe it is NOT all about her, but the systemic and internal factors influencing their perception of her and the ways she’s struggling. It’s distasteful to them for her, a female, to be deteriorating this publicly, despite the fact that her very identity makes it harder for her to function in the patriarchy of Prythian. We hear almost exclusively about sexual violence against women, aside from 2 male characters. Past or present assault of women is a major plot point on multiple occasions (Mor, Gwyn, Nesta, Emerie, Rhysands mom and sister, the lady of autumn, Cassians mom, Azriels mom, I could go on). But something about the way Nesta is contending with that is unacceptable, and I believe it’s because she’s not trying to cover up her dysfunction. In prythian, we keep these things hidden- Mor’s assault is never processed in full, Azriel’s mom seems to be alone at Rosehall, priestesses are literally hidden inside a mountain for centuries. Women process trauma alone and in the dark, but Nesta is in the light and she is loud. She is refusing to hide her problems, and the IC don’t like that, whether they realize it or not.

So why don’t the IC understand this? Like I said earlier, as a culture we hate addicts, or what they stand for, in very much the same way I think we hate people experiencing homelessness. We convince ourselves it was a series of bad choices that led someone where they are, choices we would never make because we are smart, smarter than them. We believe are more in control than that. We can prevent bad things from happening to us because we are good, because we are better than whoever it’s happening to. But the reality is almost ALL of us are one hospital stay away from homelessness, just as all of us are one trauma away from addiction. And with female addicts, we have another layer of expecting women to only struggle nicely and quietly, or to go away. Intersectional factors are at play here, too: white women are much more likely to have alcoholism attributed to mental health and trauma factors, where people of color often suffer the same addiction being more associated with crime. You can imagine how that plays out differently.

So what is the effect of all this? Gendered expectations lead to not only external stigma around addiction and tx, but also to internalized stigma which can limit willingness to seek tx. (2) Many social forces encourage women to drink and discourage them from telling anyone. Factors such as poverty, family planning, access to education, racial discrimination, and location can make services harder to access. Internally, women are more likely to enter treatment with less confidence in their ability to succeed, but report more strengths and more potential to grow recovery strengths during and following tx. For men, the pattern is reversed (3). And women have more successful tx episodes overall when gendered considerations are a part of the design and implementation of services (4). For Nesta, the effect is that she’s forced into treatment and copes by having hate sex with her ex and changing herself to conform to her family’s expectations while the House and the Valkyrie’s actually take care of her. I do not see how Sarah drew the line from there to recovery, I truly don’t. If anything, she recovers in spite of the ICs intervention, not because of it.

In summary, Nesta Archeron deserved better. Nesta deserved the same compassion the book gives to men who are struggling, and it’s a reflection of not just the book’s culture but the author’s culture that she doesn’t get it. Female alcoholics are worthy of treatment that integrates their identities, as those identities are often essential factors contributing to their addiction. What's shown in ACOSF is a reality many women live, and they shouldn't have to.

Barry Loneck, James A. Garrett & Steven M Banks (1996) The Johnson Intervention and Relapse During Outpatient Treatment, The American Journal of Drug and Alcohol Abuse, 22:3, 363-375, DOI: 10.3109/00952999609001665

Groshkova T, Best D, White W. The Assessment of Recovery Capital: Properties and psychometrics of a measure of addiction recovery strengths. Drug Alcohol Rev. 2013;32(2):187–94.

Best D, Vanderplasschen W, Nisic M. Measuring capital in active addiction and recovery: the development of the strengths and barriers recovery scale (SABRS). Subst Abuse Treat, Prev Policy. 2020;15(1):1–8.

Polak, K., Haug, N.A., Drachenberg, H.E. et al. Gender Considerations in Addiction: Implications for Treatment. Curr Treat Options Psych 2, 326–338 (2015). https://doi.org/10.1007/s40501-015-0054-5

#nesta archeron #pro nesta #alcoholism #mental health #sexism #acotar #acosf #stigma #rehabilitation #prythian university #sjm critical

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