#glad i'm not the only one 'cause i remember a lot of people being so excited about it which i get it it's romantic

[julianavalds]

just wanna say the public singing was also an instant skip for me even tho ive rewatched the rest of that scene like 10x it gives worse chills than a horror movie

ajskgdh ikr? and the thing is i love the little conversation that they have afterwards, the 'i love you' and of course the shup up kiss, but public scenes like that just makes my skin crawl, as soon as i found out kate was gonna do that i just noped pretty fast, bless gifmakers for doing such descriptive gifset 'cause that was the only way for me to know what happened before the kiss, and even with gifs is hard for me not to pass by pretty fast, i just focus on what is being said instead of what's happening lol

[sceletaflores]

Advantage, Duncan.

pairing: stanford!tashi duncan x fem!reader

summary: tashi duncan doesn’t get on her knees for anyone, but she did for you. after that night she knew there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d let you slip away from her.

—or: tashi needs you to understand that she doesn't give a fuck about patrick.

word count: 2.7k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, girl kissing, oral (fem!receiving), fingering (only barely but fem!receiving), somewhat public sex (in a locker room lmao), cheating but not really, love confessions kind of, lowkey manipulative!tashi but barely, patrick getting shit on like always, porn with a dash of plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: back on my wlw cheater bullshit! so glad to be here! i centered this whole fic around a locker room sex scene. it just sort of spiraled into this cause you know i love being messy. once again no one requested this i'm being selfish lmao but i need more tashi fics on my masterlist! hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.

Tashi’s sneakers squeak quietly as she makes her way back to the locker room. Sweat drying on her brow and adrenaline still buzzing in her veins despite the match being over. It was an easy win, Northridge had been slipping down the ranks the longer the season went on and the girl had a shit backhand.

The first thing Tashi did after shaking hands and posing for pictures was text you. She left the locker room door cracked open for you. The thought of you sitting there alone waiting patiently for her behind that door made her almost giddy enough to skip the rest of the way down the hall.

This was something like a tradition for you guys now, meeting in the locker room after her matches. Something that started a little after the two of you met a couple months ago. It was the last tournament she had before the fall semester started. The court was owned by some snobby Northern California country club that your dad happened to be president of. He stuck you in the ball crew for the summer so he could watch you keep you busy and make sure you stayed out of trouble, joke's on him. 

You were the first thing she noticed the second she stepped on the court, but how could she not? You in your cute flowy linen shorts and matching white top. A light blue visor strapped to your head. Tashi immediately got why guys have that primal, desperate urge to impress pretty girls they just met. She showed off more in that match than she had in a long time, running the girl on the other end of the court ragged.

Tashi wanted you to notice her, to see how dominating she was, to be impressed by her. Every time she hit a perfect shot, her eyes would dart to you, checking if you were watching, and you were. 

You were practically gawking at her, eyes all wide and admiring as your head snapped back and forth with every smack of the ball. 

It was perfect, you were gravitating towards her more with every new set exactly like she wanted you to. By the time she won you were watching her with stars in your eyes, gaze trailing after her every move like you were a sunflower and she was the sun. And even though lots of people have looked at her that way, you were the only one she looked back at. It made Tashi’s skin buzz with something she’d never felt outside of tennis. 

She was swept away for pictures and press before she could talk to you, but there was a party later that night thrown in honor of the players at the club's banquet hall. Tashi was standing at the bar when you slid up next to her, introducing yourself with adoration swirling in your eyes and a shy smile on your glossy lips. Tashi let herself smile right back as she shook your hand for a little longer than normal.

Two hours later and she had you in one of the hall’s many bathrooms with your Dior dress hiked up around your hips and her tongue on your pussy. She can still remember every detail of that moment. The fruity notes of your perfume, the way you tasted, how sweetly you moaned her name with your voice so breathy and desperate.

Tashi Duncan doesn’t get on her knees for anyone, but she did for you. After that night she knew there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d let you slip away from her.

Now, as she pushed open the locker room door and saw you sitting on the long bench in the center of the room, just like always, she felt a surge of possessiveness and longing. The sight of you waiting for her, so patient and devoted, made something dangerously close to love burn hot in her chest.

“Took you long enough,” you tease, standing up to greet her. You’re wearing one of her shirts, DUNCANATOR stretched across your chest in blocky red letters.

She dropped her bag at her feet, quickly crossing the room until she was close enough to pull you into a tight hug, burying her face in your neck. She was still sweaty but you didn’t care, arms coming up to wrap around her shoulders.

“I missed you,” she murmured, her voice a little too intense, her grip a little too tight. 

You laugh, your hands giving her shoulders a tiny squeeze. “It’s only been like an hour, Tash.” 

An hour felt like a whole year to her at this point. Tashi hated being away from you, hated not knowing what you were doing, who you were with, what you were thinking. She wanted to be the center of your world, just like you were so quickly becoming the center of hers. Steadily elbowing tennis inch by inch just to try and make enough room in her heart for something else. 

Tashi pulled away from you, taking a second to scan her eyes over your face. You were so beautiful, so perfect and sweet for her. She raised her hand to cup the side of your face, thumb swiping across the skin of your cheekbone a few times. You were flushed from sitting out in the sun, skin warm and soft to the touch.

She leans in without thinking, pressing her lips against yours. You taste like coconut lip balm and Pepsi. Tashi’s hand tightens its hold on your waist, pulling you in impossibly closer. She felt you sigh contently against her lips, lazily kissing back as easy as anything. Tashi felt like if she focused hard enough, that she could feel your heartbeat pounding where your chest met hers.

She swipes her tongue across your bottom lip, her hands making their way down to the small of your back to slip her fingertips under the waistband of your shorts. Your lips parted the slightest bit before you were pulling away with a small whine, pushing off her shoulders to create distance between the two of you. Tashi let her hands fall from your body as you take a small step backwards, immediately missing the warmth you took with you.

She was confused by the sudden shift in your mood until she saw the look on your face. The absolute picture of guilt, your brows furrowed enough to make a tiny crease in the middle of your forehead with your lip drawn between your teeth. Your eyes are droopy and sad as you wearily gaze at her from a few feet away. Tashi suppresses the overwhelming urge to sigh, brow raised as she stares back at you, waiting.

“I…” you trail off, wrapping your arms around yourself slowly. “I actually needed to talk to you, Tashi.”

‘Here we go.’ She thinks dryly, internally rolling her eyes. She can already tell she’s going to have to talk you down, again. She really should have expected this, you bringing up Patrick, you’ve done it enough times to be a trend. It’s been so long since the last time you said anything she was hoping you finally dropped it, apparently not.

Tashi doesn’t respond right away, just tilting her head slightly as she watches you. You shuffle uncomfortably in place, your eyes looking anywhere but her. She can see you take a steadying breath, trying to hype yourself up before you speak again.

“This is wrong,” Your voice is unconvincing, meek and soft. Tashi would laugh if she didn’t want to hurt your feelings. “What we’re doing, it’s wrong. It’s not fair to poor Patrick.”

It’s almost funny, how genuine you're being, how bad you truly feel for Patrick.

Poor, poor Patrick. Yeah fucking right. 

‘Poor Patrick’ is on tour right now probably sticking his dick in anyone that’ll let him. He’s nothing. A momentary lapse in judgment when you and Tashi went a few weeks without talking. She was hurt and vulnerable, two things she’s not used to feeling. She needed to feel in control of something again to stop her from going crazy, Patrick was easy enough.

When the two of you started talking again, she shut that shit down immediately. She was reminded of what a monumental waste of time Patrick is and pushed him to the furthest, most unimportant corner of her brain. She didn’t need him anymore, not when she had you again.

Tashi finally lets out a small sigh, more out of impatience than exasperation. She steps closer, her gaze hardening. "You really think he cares?" Her voice is low, controlled, but there's an edge to it. "Patrick doesn't need your pity. He's fine. He always is."

Your eyes widen at her words, the guilt on your face deepening. "But—"

“No.” Tashi cuts you off sharply, jaw set stubbornly. “Listen to me, Patrick is nothing. He’s just dick. He’ll never be more than just dick.” She takes another step towards you, closing the gap you made. “He doesn’t care about us, about this.” She motions between the two of you, her voice raising slightly as she speaks.

You swallow hard, arms tightening around yourself defensively as you stare at her with watery eyes. 

Tashi's whole demeanor softens, the anger draining from her body at the hurt look on your face. She would never speak to you like that, it’s just Patrick that really pisses her off. He’s not even here and he’s still managing to fuck with her. She steps even closer, her hand reaching out to gently lift your chin, forcing you to look at her. 

Your name falls from her lips, warm and wrapped in velvet, her thumb traces along your bottom lip slowly. "We have something real," she whispers fiercely, grip tightening on your chin just a fraction. "Something he could never understand. Don't let him ruin that. Don't let him ruin us."

You nod slowly, eyes big and shiny with unshed tears. It’s not good enough, Tashi can tell that you’re still apprehensive. You’re still worried, still guilty even with her reassurance. She can’t have that. If she doesn’t get you to drop this, you’ll let it consume you enough to try something stupid, like leaving her. Tashi refuses to let that even be an option.

If she can’t convince you with words, she can convince you through her actions. 

Tashi needs to drive home the point that sparing Patrick’s feelings isn’t something you need to be worried about, clearly tough love isn’t going to work on you. If she has to get on her knees to help make you understand, then she will.

She leans in slowly, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your breath catches slightly, held for only a second before you finally relax. Not completely, just enough for her to feel it. She keeps going, dragging kisses from your cheek up to your ear.

“Patrick is nothing compared to you.” she whispers directly into your ear, dropping your chin to start sliding her hand slowly down your front. “You’re so much better than him,” her hand stops at the hem of your shorts, tugging the button open with one sharp yank. You gasp sharply, hand flying up to grip her bicep tightly. Your eyes flick to the door, open and unlocked, but you’re not pushing her away, not trying to stop her. 

Tashi leans down, trailing kissing across the soft skin of your throat. “You’re everything.” She slips her hand into your shorts and down the front of your soft panties, her fingertips barely graze the slick skin of your pussy before you’re moaning.

“Fuck.” your hand squeezes her arm tighter, nails digging little crescent moons into her skin as she slides her index finger through the wetness gathering at your entrance. 

You’re so wet, completely drenching her hand in seconds. She teases you, barely pushing her finger past your tight hole as she licks a dirty stripe up the center of your throat. You whine, a desperate, too loud noise that bounces off the walls. Slowly, she breaches your entrance, sinking her finger up to the knuckle in the tight warmth of your pussy.

She watches you, takes in the needy look on your pretty face. So worked up for a single finger, so desperate for it that your hips cant down to get her deeper inside you. The wet squelch of her finger thrusting in and out of you sounds even dirtier, amplified by the room's echo. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Her tone is soft but final, like she’s stating a fact. She stares at you as she fucks her finger faster in and out of your fluttering pussy, gaze intense and unwavering. You stare back like a deer in headlights, silent except for the sharp pants falling from your slick, parted lips. That’s okay, you don’t need to do any of the talking anyway.

Tashi nips at the sensitive skin of your collarbone once before she’s dropping to her knees on the cold concrete. Her greedy hands gripping the waistband of your shorts and yanking them down your legs roughly, your lilac panties quickly follow. You gasp sharply, the cool air of the room hitting your bare pussy. “Tash-” 

Tashi cuts you off, leaning forward to slip your clit between her lips. You throw your head back, your loud moan echoing through the room. She swirls her tongue over the sensitive skin of your clit, exactly how you like it. You’re already so worked up, she knows this won’t take long.

Her mouth works you over expertly, licking and sucking and mouthing hungrily at your dripping pussy. She teases the tip of her tongue along your clenching hole, so desperate to be filled by the strap sitting in a old box on the highest shelf of her closet. Her thighs clench at the thought, you bouncing on her dick, wrecked and spent on the sheets of her bed. She pushes the idea to the back of her mind, you always have later for that. Right now, she’s focused on making you come on her tongue. 

Tashi can tell you’re getting close. Your breathing changes, gets heavier, even more little moans and whines falling from your lips each time her nose presses against your clit just right. Your fingers slide into her hair as you start to roll your hips, chasing her mouth. 

“God, Tashi–!” Your thighs shake on either side of her head, hands twisting her hair in your grip roughly. “Shit, yes–fuck! I’m gonna come–” Your hips start to grind against her tongue even faster as you got closer to the edge.

Tashi lets you use her face to get off, her hands sliding up and down the side of your thighs soothingly as you come. She works you through your orgasm, her tongue sliding along your sensitive skin until you’re physically pulling her away.

Tashi presses one last kiss to your hip before she stands, pulling your shorts and panties back up your legs as she does. You’re still trying to catch your breath, leaning up against the lockers as she buttons your zipper for you. Your face is flushed and sweaty, your eyes are glossed over and hazy. She smiles, giving you a soft kiss with your release still coating her lips and tongue. You kiss back regardless, slow and sweet like molasses. 

Tashi pulls away first, giving your cheek a quick tap before stepping away to pick up her bag up off the floor. “Come on,” she offers you her hand, nodding her head towards the door. “Let’s go get frozen yogurt.” 

You smile, making your way across the room to slide your hand into hers. Tashi goes to push the door open, but you stay in place, tugging her hand back. When she turns to face you, there’s a look on your face she hasn’t seen before. “You’re everything too.” 

Your tone is so sincere, so genuine that she feels her heart grow three sizes. Your eyes sparkle as you stare at her like she’s a God. It’s exactly what she wanted. She smiles, giving your hand a hard squeeze and finally dragging you out of the locker room.

Duncan: Game, Set, Match.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[sweetiesicheng]

woozi - old friends

word count : 1,099

—

a simple gathering of college friends. all of you haven't seen each other in months, some of them you haven't seen since you graduated.

you've always kept to yourself in college, only being pulled into shenanigans by almost everyone else. till this day, you usually keep to yourself at work and everyday life. but being back with everyone makes you remember the fun times.

you hear a door open, "hello! we're here!" you hear seungkwan’s familiar voice announce.

"loud as ever," dokyeom comments while putting his drink down on the table.

"you're no better," one of the girls replies, causing everyone to laugh.

seungkwan walks in with two guys following behind him. "remember these two?" he asks as he walks into the living room.

"joshua, you flew in?" jeonghan asks.

joshua shrugs, "i'm making a trip out of this," he mentions with a smile and places two packs of beer onto the table. "nice to see you guys," he greets everyone.

"woozi's here? when was the last time he was with us?" one of the guys asks.

"seungkwan, how much did you bribe woozi to get him to leave his studio?" one of the girls asks.

"hey, he didn’t bribe me. i leave sometimes," woozi replies and notices you, "hi."

you smile, "hey."

everyone greets the newcomers and they settle into their places in the living room. more food is ordered and everyone has a great time reminiscing with each other.

—

"y/n!" one of your friends calls your name, "what happened to that guy you were talking to? you know, the one with the insane motorcycle?"

you shrug you shoulders, "it didn't go anywhere after awhile."

"aw, come on. y/n, you're literally so pretty. we need to get you a man!" another girl says as she stands up. "i'm grabbing drinks and snacks," she announces before walking into the kitchen.

"i'll come with you," you say and stand up, following your friend into the kitchen. your friend starts opening cabinets, looking for snacks to bring out to everyone. "did you guys really have to mention my love life?" you whisper while grabbing a beer from the fridge.

"don't worry so much. everyone's drinking, and if some of their habits are still the same, they won't remember by tomorrow," your friend replies. she opens another cabinet, "yes! okay, let's go," she says as she grabs two bags of snacks.

"i'll go back in a second," you say to her and take a sip of your beer.

your friend hums in response and leaves the kitchen. you start to clean the kitchen a little bit to help your friend who lives in the apartment. empty cans and bottles are covering the dinner table and counters. once you're done, you lean against a counter and drink some more beer.

"you okay?"

you see woozi walk into the kitchen with an empty soda can. he throws it away and opens the fridge to get a can of soda.

"yea, i'm good," you reply.

woozi nods and opens the soda can, taking a sip right after. "how have you been?" he asks you.

"normal, i guess," you reply with an awkward chuckle. "you?"

"the same. just working," he answers you.

out of everyone, you've known him the longest. you two met in a freshman seminar class, and it turned out he was in the wrong class. makes sense, what was a music major doing in a linguistics lecture? the two of you became friends and met the others along the way.

"still doing the music stuff, huh?" you ask.

he smiles, "yea. it's a lot of work, that's why i don't meet up with them often."

"seungkwan does mention how you're always in your little cave," you reply, both of you chuckling after.

"like i said earlier, i do leave...just not often," he says to you.

—

you eventually rejoin the group, where your friends are still reminiscing over a bunch of things. with more alcohol involved, some people start to get emotional. you had stopped drinking since you needed to make sure you could still drive later.

"y/n!" one of your friends latches onto you. "you're so lovely and pretty. i'm so glad people like you exist in this world," she says to you while reaching over to hug you.

"she's drunk," you say to everyone.

"oh lord. i should take her home," her boyfriend sighs before standing up from the floor.

"i'm not going home! i'm staying with y/n!" your friend whines while hugging you. you pat her back to soothe her.

her boyfriend sighs, "y/n, why does this always happen?" he questions. your friend has a tendency to not want to let go of people, resulting in whoever it is to have to go home with her and her boyfriend to get her to sleep.

"it's amazing. she won't attach to her own boyfriend," seungkwan observes.

"yea, at this point, i should be dating her," you say and stand up with your friend attached to you. "come on, time to go home."

"need help?" woozi asks. "i can drive your car over to their place," he offers to you.

"yea, that'd be great. i don't want to uber back," you reply.

—

"alright, time to get you to bed," you say as you help your friend into her apartment.

"y/n, i love you~"

"hey, what about me?" her boyfriend pouts while opening the door to the bedroom. "i got her," he says and brings her into the room. you watch him bring her to the bed.

"is she okay?" you turn around and see woozi standing by the front door.

"she'll be fine," you reply. "hey, we're gonna go. see you guys soon," you say to your friend.

"yea, see you guys. get home safe," he says to you.

—

after bringing your friend back, you drive woozi to his apartment.

"this is it, right?" you ask, parked in front of his apartment building.

woozi smiles, "yea." he opens the door and gets out, but he doesn't close the door right away. "y/n,” he calls your name.

"hm?"

"it was really nice to see you again," he admits to you. "i'm really happy."

you smile at him, "i'm glad i got to see you again too, woozi."

"text me," he says before closing the door. you watch him wave and walk into his apartment building, making sure he went in safely.

before driving off, you take your phone and send him a text with a simple smiley face. a few seconds later, you get one back.

[ultimate-shipper-trash-blog]

The Epilogue

It starts off on a simple hot sunny day at the lake.

The kids are giggling and splashing water in each other's faces.

Dustin and Steve are off to the side getting the sandwiches ready. Steve is watching Eddie flip the boys into the water.

"I'm so glad we're all like this together. I never thought I'd even get you an Eddie into the same room."

"Well he's really changed a lot. Definitely since we were kids. I like being his friend, I think we're better for it." He finishes wrapping up the sandwich he's working on and ignores Dustin's eyes piercing into his skull. Behind him he hears another splash and some screaming.

"What."

"I didn't know you used to be friends."

"Friends? It's been a long time since I've been regarded as one of those."

"Be for real I didn't know you and Eddie used to hang out."

"Yeah we used to hang out all the time." Steve looks off into the distance wistfully.

"So what happened?"

"Well, we grew up. I grew up and Eddie grew up and we both grew into different people and Eddie didn't like how different we ended up being. It happens all the time. We didn't have monsters to bond us like you guys."

"Well that sucks, maybe you guys will reconnect as strong as you used to be."

Steve rustles Dustin's hair much to his complaint.

"We'll be fine champ, we're doing well now aren't we?"

"Yeah Stevie we are." They both spin around at the sound of Eddie's voice. He's giving them a confused look. Squinting his eyes at Steve like he doesn't know how to feel.

---

A long time ago

"Do you want to be friends?"

"Why?"

"I think you're cool."

"No you don't you just think I'm cool cause I'm in 4th grade and you're only in the baby 3rd grade class."

"Am not!"

"You are!"

"UGH...I'm Steve by the way."

"Eddie."

Middle school

"Steve there's something wrong with me."

"Don't be ridiculous Eddie, whatever it is we'll fix it."

"This can't be fixed."

"Dude just spit it out I won't get mad!"

"Ok...I have a crush...on a boy."

Eddie's eyes are welling up with tears.

"Hey it's ok Eds." Steve walks closer to him, slowly, like approaching a wounded animal.

"I won't judge you."

"Really?"

"Yeah! So what if you like boys I'll kick anyone's ass who says anything bad. You're still my best friend that's never going to change." He wraps Eddie up in the tightest hug he can muster.

"I love you Steve."

"I love you too Eds."

Before high school

"I just don't know why you're being like this!"

"What Steve? You can't believe I'm mad at you for blowing me off for your other friends?!"

"I wasn't blowing you off! I had basketball practice! Tommy's mom just drove me home dude it's not as crazy as you think it is."

"Oh really?!"

"Yeah! If anything you're being crazy!"

"Oh! If that's how it's gonna be then we don't need to be friends anymore."

Eddie's stomps off. So angry he doesn't hear Steve calling back out to him. The next time they interact, Tommy is pushing Eddie into a locker.

When Steve called Jonathan Byers a queer he remembers the promise he made to Eddie and promptly throws up afterwards.

When Robin comes out to Steve on the bathroom floor he thinks he has a second chance to prove himself. When she ends up being better than he imagines he is so thankful.

God he misses Eddie.

---

"Me and Stevie boy can pack up the car don't worry munchkins."

The two try to pick everything up but Eddie gets progressively angrier by the second. Steve is trying to figure out why he has personal beef with a cooler.

When they reach the car Eddie tries to shove everything in the trunk but it all falls apart.

"What's wrong."

"Me? Nothing, why?" he hastily folds the towels again, shoving them back in.

"Well...you're all huffy."

He spins around, his face getting closer, red with anger.

"You wanna know what my problem is?! I can't believe you told him that like I was the one to break things off, like you ever missed me, like you never hated me!"

"That's ridiculous! I've never hated you! You hated me!"

"No! You're the one who changed. You made the final decision!"

"Yeah because you pushed me away."

"You didn't fight me on it."

"I fought you everyday. Everyday I thought of you. Everyday with the name calling and the lockers, I was trying to get your attention."

"You think I wasn't? You think I stand on tables for fun?!"

"...it's all been a misunderstanding?"

The two stare at each other not even daring to blink.

"We wasted so much time, we could fix that, that is if you still want me"

"I never went a day without thinking of you."

he gets shy, his face darker than his sunburn.

"I know you've changed, I've dealt with that but a part of me still thinks you hate me. For what I am. What you'll hold against me. I don't know if I can handle being friends with you with that fear in my heart."

"I'd never. Ever. Do anything. Besides," Steve flicks his hair back. "Birds of a feather and all that." The blush on his cheeks is high and getting darker by the second.

"The what?"

"I'm uh kind of bisexual."

"Kind of?"

"Definitely. Definitely bisexual."

"Oh."

"Right um...so you won't have any problems from me. I hope that won't be a problem for you."

"No! Never! I'm just...surprised."

"Yeah you would be," Steve grumbles.

"What?"

"Nothing!"

----

Steve is sleeping in his bed when he feels something wrong. His eyes shoot open and he spots a figure standing over his body.

"Jesus Christ!" He shoots out of bed and is ready to grab his weapon when he registers who's in front of him.

"Eddie?" He says softly. "What're you doing here? You had a gig tonight, how did you get in my house? Why are you in my room-"

"Steve." Eddie's face is golden. The moon is reflecting into his eyes, shining so bright. He looks so happy, like he's going to cry. His smile is so bright.

"Steve. I got it."

"You go it?"

"The record deal. I got it."

Steve runs at him and Eddie catches him. Of course he did. He always will.

"Oh my god oh my god," he mutters into his shoulder. Eddie's arms are squeezing his waist tighter. "I'm so proud of you oh my god."

"Steve. I have to tell you something, that's what I came here to say."

"What's going on Eds? You never sound this serious." Eddie lets go of him and sits him down on the edge of the bed. Eddie lingers closer to the door like he's ready to make an exit.

"The recording studio is in Chicago."

"Oh."

"I leave in a week."

"Oh."

"I want you to go with me."

"What?"

Steve feels confusion run through him but he's not complaining. He'd follow Eddie anywhere.

"Yes! Ok! Let's go!"

Eddie smiles but it looks like it's causing him pain.

"There's a condition to you coming with me." He comes closer to Steve but still keeps his distance. "You need to know the truth before you agree to leave everything behind."

"What's going on Eds?"

"Ever since we were kids I've been in love with you. Big. Gay. Feelings. I want to hold you and kiss you and start a life with you. I know you're bi but that doesn't mean you'd be into me, especially considering our history. I was going to keep it a secret, never tell you, but it's not fair for you to be with me and not know my true intentions. I understand if you don't want to speak to me anymore but I'll do anything to keep our friendship. I've tried to forget you but have you met you? You're unforgettable. You're too damn loveable." He chuckles at that, eyes darting at every corner of the room.

"Eddie..."

"I understand-"

"Come here please."

"Um...no."

"Edddiiie," Steve whines. He stands and grabs Eddie's hands and drags him back to his bed laying him down. He crawls on top of him and tucks his head into Eddie's neck.

"I am very confused right now Steve."

"Thank you for telling me, I understand how scary that can be to share your feelings. The only thing is I can't believe you don't see how I feel!" He props his head up until their noses are touching. "I love you you idiot. I've been in love with you since forever. Of course I want to start a life with you and whatever else you wanted-"

"Kissing. I wanted kissing."

"And you'll get it."

Steve giggles into his mouth and the two kiss for what feels like forever. They finally break apart and keep their foreheads touching.

"So...Chicago?"

"Chicago."

-----

Eddie's suit jacket is grabbed and he's thrown into a bathroom stall.

"Oh my god I can't believe you did that."

"Steve how did you even get back here? Bribed a guard. He knew who I was anyway, congratulated me on having such a loving partner." He ends the sentence smashing their lips together shoving Eddie against the wall.

"Mmm well," Eddie pulls away. "I didn't know the next time I'd win a Grammy I wanted to make it count."

"Eddie you confessed your love for me and came out in your speech that was something...something so special. God all I wanted was to see you, be near you. I couldn't go another second not being by your side."

"A bathroom stall was the closest you could get huh?" He smirks.

Steve smirks, sinking to his knees. "What? It's not good enough for you?"

"Nope! It's perfect! Absolutely perfect sweetheart no complaints here.

----

"You want to marry...me?"

"Yeah baby why wouldn't I?"

"I- I...yes! Ok! Yes!"

----

It ends on a simple hot sunny day

seventy years later

"Hello everyone, my husband lived a long successful life. You may know him as the lead guitarist for the many bands he's been apart of during his long career. You knew him as Eddie Munson rockstar but I knew him as much more. I knew him as my love. My husband. An uncle to our little gremlins little gremlins. A friend to all. A supporter of all. He passed away yesterday from natural causes. I was asked by his Manger how I wanted to handle this and I knew I had to do it."

There are tears in his eyes as he stares down the camera but a small smile on his lips.

"He lives on through our friends and family. Through those who have watched him grow. Through his awards and his fans. Through his charity work. Most importantly he lives through his love. He loved so much. So hard. Everthing had meaning to him. Everything had purpose." He wipes a stray tear away.

"I'll see you soon my love."

The final epilougue is the next day, for the sweethearts could not live long without the other. They had already been making up for the time they did not know each other, for they time they spent ignoring each other. They couldn't spend another minute apart.

[lucky-clover-gazette]

kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 3

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

The Regent’s forces were rivers of darker red, driving inroads into their lines, mingling their armies together, like a stream of blood hitting water, then diffusing.

He killed, and it was simply that men got out of his way, or were dead.

He had grown used to something that had been temporary, like the flash of exhilaration in a pair of blue eyes for a moment catching his own. All of that tangled together inside him, and tightened, through the killing, into a single hard knot.

something about the way this is written just hits me in the abandonment issues

‘If the Prince of Vere shows himself, I will kill him.’ Nikandros half spat the words.

nik private twitter venting moment #2

The ground was wet, his legs were mud-spattered above his knees—mud in dry summer, because the ground was blood.

i don’t know man i feel like after a point you have to just be like. hey. why are we doing this again? like yeah i get that fighting in a military force can be for A Cause but unless you’re directly involved in enacting ideological change, aren’t you basically just cannon fodder

On the far side of the field, he saw the flash of embroidered red. That is how Akielons win wars, isn’t it? Why fight the whole army, when you can just—

i’m guessing the part in italics in a previous laurent line, about damen killing auguste at marlas?

He used the little name that Damen had been called as a boy; the childhood name, reserved for intimates.

the fact that is was kastor specifically asking the veretians to call him that…

Damen realised that he was on his knees, his own chest heaving like the chest of his horse.

laurent’s horse will be glad to know that damen’s horse lived. because, as we all know, they’re in love

‘Over?’ The word grated out of him. All he could think was that if the Regent still lived, nothing was over.

it is interesting how, even when he thinks laurent screwed him over (see previous chapter), damen has this uncontrollable rage towards the regent rather than laurent. i think this has more to do with the regent killing his men and trying invade his country, though. and maybe just that it’s easier to hate him than laurent. “regent = bad” is something that’s easy for damen to comprehend right now, while laurent’s whole thing is a lot more confusing and intimate

And with returning awareness, he saw as if for the first time the bodies of the men that he had killed to get to the Regent’s decoy, and beyond that, the evidence of what he had done. The field was a rutted earthworks strewn with the dead. The ground was a churned mess of flesh, ineffective armour and riderless horses. Killing ceaselessly, for hours, he had not been aware of the scale of it, of what he had caused to happen here. He saw flashes behind his eyelids, faces of the men he’d killed. Those left standing were all Akielon; and they stared at Damen as at something impossible.

damen holy shit… i guess that’s one way to reclaim your authority. and he didn’t even mean it as a sign of intimidation, he just wanted to get to the “regent.” who by the way was just some random guy RIP

‘Find the highest-ranked Veretian still living and tell them they have leave to bury their dead,’ said Damen. There was a fallen Akielon banner on the ground beside him. ‘Charcy is claimed for Akielos.’ As he rose, Damen wrapped his hand around its wooden pole and planted it in the earth.

not sure if calling it an akielion victory despite the combined forces is just customary, or intentionally out of spite. i’m leaning on the former, since it’s damen and not laurent we're talking about

The herald came cantering across the devastated landscape on a white, glossy mare with a curved neck and a high, flying tail. Beautiful and untouched, he made a mockery of the sacrifice of the brave men on the field. His banner streamed out behind him, and its blazon was Laurent’s starburst, in blue and shining gold.

here is an excerpt from a post i made while reading king’s rising for the first time:

“damen when he realizes he’s not in a slow burn romance with problematic beginnings, but a complex psychological thriller in which the smartest fictional character i have ever personally encountered has decided to make his life a living hell and also they’re in love with each other but the psychological thriller stuff is way more important to his bitchy blonde nightmare malewife and he is SO down bad and just has to deal with laurent’s mean girls 4d chess petty nonsense bc it’s enrichment for him and damen will kill anyone who gets in laurent’s way and he can’t even pick up the very very VERY clear implications of laurent’s trauma that would probably allow them to reach some kind of vulnerability equilibrium in their relationship”

on a re-read, i think this is a great time to dig into that a little more ;)

SO what i love about so much of laurent’s choices in the next few chapters is the fact that much of what he says and does is entirely petty. like, yes there’s always strategy and trauma and depth as usual, but i think it’s not denying him depth to say that he is 20 years old, this is his first love in the midst of an extremely stressful and messy situation, and despite his own wishes he cannot prevent his emotions from affecting his actions. laurent has had control over so much of the situation with damen thus far, both with the power dynamics between them as master and “slave” and the fact that damen didn’t know that laurent knew who he was. but now laurent knows that damen knows, so all of his previous and future actions are going to be under damen’s scrutiny in that context. they’re equals now, and the secrets reinforcing laurent’s prior cognitive dissonance have dissolved. that leaves laurent vulnerable (especially after being tortured and genuinely letting damen down even if by accident) and emotional compromised (he has no choice but to see damen as damianos, and with that comes all of the auguste baggage and the fact that they’ve already fallen in love and had sex under different circumstances).

all that is to say, the next few chapters are laurent’s mean girls era. he is, again, still being smart and strategic (4d chess), and his feelings are valid and his trauma is real. however, he is also just being MEAN, for the same reasons classic high school movie mean girls tend to be: he feels insecure and vulnerable about his romantic attachment to damen, stressed out by the insane amount of power he definitely should not have, and self-righteous about all the ways the world has conspired against him. regina george might have been the villain of the movie, but she was the hero of her own story. janis and cady methodically dismantled her life as a popular, powerful, and confident person. that’s why she got revenge with the burn book instead of looking inward and acknowledging her own issues, of which there were many. she had a machiavellian view of life, in which mean people always won, and so being mean in retaliation was how she could protect herself from being a victim.

that is laurent’s perspective too, for a lot of this series. we don’t know anything about regina’s backstory, or heather chandler’s (another great example), but we do know exactly why laurent has the worldview he does. he used to be sweet and it made him a victim. so he is mean to protect himself, even if that robs him of his sweetness. damen’s integrity and honor have challenged laurent’s worldview, though, and that has been the source of a lot of laurent’s slow reconsideration. but now that laurent can’t just pretend that damen isn't damianos, now that he has to accept this situation in its full interpersonal and political messiness, he isn’t nearly as inspired. laurent assumes, now that laurent has gone “mask off,” that damen will realize that laurent doesn’t deserve the love he has shown him in the past. because laurent has been mean to damen, by lying about his awareness even at the times damen thought he was being earnest and sweet. that makes damen a victim and fool—two things laurent deeply fears being, and therefore assumes everyone else also fears in themselves. two things the regent had wanted laurent to consider himself, by placing damen in his life in the first place.

therefore, in his insecurity and vulnerability and anger, as a 20 year old just experiencing his first love, as someone with a lot of power and stress who cannot waste time or energy on genuinely confronting his own flaws in good faith, laurent is gearing up to be sososososo mean to damen specifically in the next few chapters. like comedically mean. aimlessly mean. pathetically mean. on purpose. ultimately, if he must be alone (which he obviously must, says laurent's brain), laurent would rather be the villain of someone else’s story than a victim in his own. that, at least, is similar to book 1 laurent—but while he was a cat playing with a mouse in book 1, in a position to do serious damage to his opponent, now he’s more like…. a cat, slapping another cat. evenly matched, but still throwing hands. transparently insecure and pathetic, only effective in doing emotional damage in ways he doesn’t intend. damen isn’t hurt by the petty things laurent says and does, because he sees through them for what they are. he’s hurt because laurent sees them as necessary to protect himself and keep his distance, when all damen wants is to make things okay between them. which laurent would never expect, because he assumes that damen wants nothing to do with him, and would be happier and better off if they stayed apart.

basically: unstoppable force (damen's persistent caring) meets unmovable object (laurent's refusal to be genuinely cared for). the only way for this cycle to end is for damen to choose to stop, or for laurent to choose to yield. laurent will eventually make that choice, but he still has to be a huge bitch about it first. he's going to lash out at damen and challenge him to stop caring, but ultimately fail—both because damen is just built different, and because he's lowkey written as a fantasy partner for emotionally volatile people with attachment and abandonment issues.

rest assured, laurent’s genre is still psychological thriller, but it’s also now a high school drama movie. and damen is about to get a bitter taste of that, with pretty much no choice in the matter. this poor man will have to deal with laurent’s bitchy theatrics as they try to co-parent an army, and he’s already too emotionally invested and aware of laurent’s habit of lashing out when he’s in pain to genuinely fight back.

this could also be called laurent’s s1 catra era, but i’m not sure what the venn diagram of capri and she ra enjoyers looks like. to those who get it—laurent is doing what catra did at princess prom for the next several chapters, down to the “hey adora” = “hello lover.” this dynamic is very fun to read because it doesn’t overstay its welcome. it’s different from laurent in book 1, or catra in general, because it’s so clearly pathetic, damen and laurent are on the same side of the war, and damen could technically make it stop at any point. so i think it’s very very fun, while it lasts >:)

The herald reined in in front of him. Damen looked at the mare’s shiny coat, not dirt-covered, not heaving or darkened with sweat, and then at the herald’s livery, in immaculate condition, unflecked by the dust of the road. He felt it rising at the back of his throat. ‘Where is he?’

damen showed up to the prom laurent planned with him to unite their rival high schools, only to find himself dateless and laurent’s promised fancy party decorations missing. this is the moment where damen checks snapchat (i was in high school from 2013-2017) and sees everyone from vere high at their own immaculately-decorated prom, where laurent is being crowned king. little does damen know, laurent was blindsided by the vere-only prom and forced via social pressure to be there since everyone elected him prom king. they’re mad at each other for a high school drama pacing-typical period of time, and then make up when they realize the misunderstanding and reassert their dedication to each other.

laurent did still murder someone with a chair, though. but like a metal folding chair from the band room

The herald’s back hit the ground. Damen had dragged him bodily from his horse into the dirt, where he lay dazed and winded, with Damen’s knee in his stomach. Damen’s hand was around his neck.

His grip tightened before it opened enough to allow the herald to speak. The herald rolled onto his side and coughed as Damen released him. He pulled something from inside his jacket. Parchment, with two lines on it. You have Charcy. I have Fortaine. He stared at the words, written in familiar, unmistakable handwriting. I’ll receive you at my fort.

lamen hr complaint #5 (unnamed herald): ragdolling this guy over what should be impersonal, professional correspondence

also, because i can't help myself:

Fortaine eclipsed even Ravenel, powerful and beautiful, its towers high-flung, its jutting crenelles biting the sky. It rose to a sheer, impossible height and, from every vantage, it was flying Laurent’s banners. The pennants seemed to float on the air effortlessly, patterned silk in blue and gold.

WELCOME HOME, BROTHER KILLER

Rows upon rows of peaked, coloured tents were pitched on the field outside Fortaine’s walls, the sun lighting the pavilions, the banners, and the silks of a graceful encampment. It was a city of tents, and it camped a fresh, intact force of Laurent’s men, who had not fought and died through the morning. The constructed arrogance of the display was intentional. It said, exquisitely: Did you exert yourself at Charcy? I have been here examining my nails.

this is funny and i wouldn’t put it past laurent, but also i’m not sure if he like. really meant this part of it specifically to piss damen off. he was just tortured idk he probably just wanted things nice. a good part of the fun of lamen divorce era is remembering that damen’s interpretation of events isn’t necessarily accurate, and that it’s hilarious how he interprets things as petty personal slights even when they might not be. they’re both so obsessed with each other and it’s great

Nikandros reined in alongside him. ‘Uncle and nephew are alike. They send other men to do their fighting for them.’

nik tweets this verbatim on priv (#3)

Damen was silent. What he felt in his chest was a hardness like anger. He looked at the elegant silken city and thought about men dying on the field at Charcy.

but not exactly anger—betrayal? heartache? self-consciousness?

Some kind of herald’s greeting party was riding towards them. He gripped the Regent’s bloody, torn banner in his hand.

the phrase “greeting party” just made me imagine them rolling up with like confetti and a speaker blasting the celebration song. while damen holds the bloody torn banner

‘Just me,’ said Damen, and put his heels into his horse. About halfway across the field, he was met by the herald, who arrived with an anxious party of four attendants saying something urgent about protocol. Damen listened to four words of it. ‘Don’t worry,’ said Damen. ‘He’s expecting me.’

lamen hr complaint #6 (more unnamed heralds): disregarding protocol

(also “he’s expecting me” girlllll)

Without even pulling off his gauntlets, he strode to the tent. He knew its high scalloped folds; he knew the starburst pennant. No one stopped him. Not even when he reached the tent and dismissed the soldier at the entrance with a single order: ‘Go.’ He didn’t bother to see if his order was obeyed. The soldier let him through: of course he did; this had all been planned. Laurent was ready for him whether he came docilely behind the herald or, as he did now, the dirt and the sweat of the battle still on him, blood dried in the places where a cursory swipe with a cloth had not reached it. He swept the tent flap back with an arm, and stepped inside.

again i do have to question, beyond the drama, how much of this is as intentional and petty as damen thinks it is. like, the heralds literally cite protocol, damen knows this is the correct way for a camp to be run. i think he is assuming a lot here, although it’s reasonable to do so. we have seen in the past that damen assumes things of laurent that laurent is just like, “uh. not everything i do is on purpose” about, or damen is just WRONG about. i just wonder if damen’s approach here confirms things laurent was worried about (damen thinking poorly of him now that they’re on even ground), further fueling the fire of his rejection-sensitive bitchiness. not that it’s an excuse, or even undeserved, but it’s good to remember that there are two sides to the story.

like to damen, this is an angry post-battle rush of a moment to confront laurent and speak his truth (he doesn’t know laurent knows who he is), but to laurent this is like. post-torture and escape, and basically being thrown into the deep end of vulnerability with damianos and what this all implies to auguste’s memory. we’re not getting the best or most rational version of either of them right now, which is great for the drama but also makes the narration less reliable

This was the place Laurent had chosen.

right. damen thinks laurent chose this place to hear the truth about him, because the “you have charcy” note implies that at some point laurent probably figured out that damen is damianos. therefore laurent chose this occasion for them to meet each other, as they truly are by birth, for the first time. damen just doesn’t know the twist that laurent has always known who he’s been, and has chosen everything else before now with that knowledge too

There were a few furnishings, low seats, cushions, and in the background a trestle table hung with its own coverings, and set with shallow bowls of sugared pears and oranges. As though they were going to nibble at sweetmeats.

the same guy who ordered the “sorry you were given a severed head and discovered a suicide” fruit basket in prince’s gambit had to order a “sorry i gaslighted you for 2 books but not really because you also technically gaslighted me” fruit basket in kings rising

He lifted his gaze from the table to the exquisitely attired figure leaned with a single shoulder against the tent pole, watching him.

lucky number laurent lean #13!

Laurent said, ‘Hello, lover.’

It was not going to be simple.

this being the follow-up line to “hello lover” is such a good combination of funny and tension-building. like laurent’s cunty tableau immediately put out damen’s fiery righteous indignation and now he’s just like “oh this is going to suck.”

He made himself breathe through that. ‘Your men think you’re a coward. Nikandros thinks that you deceived us. That you sent us to Charcy, and left us there to die by your uncle’s sword.’ ‘And is that what you think?’ said Laurent. ‘No.’ Damen said, ‘Nikandros doesn’t know you.’

this is really a testament to pacat’s cleverness, how in chapter 1 there are a lot of moments where it’s almost like damen is directly saying he thinks laurent screwed him over—nikandros and the herald saying it and him not disagreeing, him accepting the reality that laurent is not going to show up—but he never does truly say that he thinks the abandonment was on purpose. because he didn’t, and he doesn’t, which makes sense. but he’s still angry and confused and also just concerned about how laurent is taking the “news” that he’s damianos. how much of damen’s anger about laurent’s composed appearance is projection of his anxiety about laurent seeing him as he truly is, a powerful authority figure in his own right who just won a battle against insane odds?

it’s so ambiguously written that it’s almost like pacat WANTS us to spiral. which i did, and will probably continue to do, so well-played. these books are like evil catnip to anxious overthinking theater people with attachment issues and an interest in understanding complex fictional situations to cope with the fact that real life never makes enough sense. also kinky gays but let's be real that's just a trojan horse for the other stuff

‘And you do.’ Damen looked at the arrangement of Laurent’s weight, the careful way he was holding his body. Laurent’s left hand was still casually resting against the tent pole. Deliberately, he stepped forward, and clasped Laurent’s right shoulder. Nothing, for a moment. Damen tightened his grip, and ground in with his thumb. Harder. He watched Laurent turn ashen. Finally, Laurent said, ‘Stop.’

proving that he knows laurent well enough to pick up from his posture alone exactly where he’s been injured. also they’re both so messy, like let’s put pressure on each other’s literal and figurative wounds instead of just talking about our misconceptions and feelings, awesome

He let go. Laurent had wrenched back and was clutching his shoulder, where the blue of his doublet had darkened. Blood, welling up from some newly bandaged, subterranean place, and Laurent was staring at him, his eyes oddly wide. ‘You wouldn’t break an oath,’ said Damen, past the feeling in his chest. ‘Even to me.’

damen proving to himself, and proving to laurent, that he knows that laurent didn’t screw him over, and instead was injured and failed to show up. laurent is shocked by how quickly damen picked up on this. also ow

He had to force himself back.

he doesn’t want to see laurent in pain, or know that he’s causing it :( which is especially unfortunate given the conversation they’re about to have about damen murdering laurent’s brother

Laurent didn’t answer. He still had a hand clutched to his shoulder, his fingers sticky with blood. Laurent said, ‘Even to you?’

“you wouldn’t break an oath, even to me” (“even to me” being a sort of freudian slip, meaning “i killed your brother, and i’ve known that this whole time and i haven’t told you, and you have a good reason to hate me for that”) “even to you?” (to damen’s incomplete understanding: “well i know who you are now, and if i’d known before i would have broken every oath to you i’ve ever made”)

He made himself look at Laurent. The truth was an awful presence in his chest.

babygirl it’s about to get so much awfuller

He thought of the single night they had spent together. He thought of Laurent, giving himself, dark-eyed and vulnerable, and of the Regent, who knew how to break a man.

damen totally sees laurent as his “victim” right now, set up well by him re-opening laurent’s physical wound. damen fucked this man while knowing that he (damen) killed his (laurent’s) brother, and put trust in him. if they were normal, or this was a normal story, that’s where the confrontation would end. it would be that simple—damen didn’t mean to hurt laurent but still did, and laurent has to forgive him for that, and forgive himself for being fooled—and then it would get tearfully resolved because they love each other so much that it doesn't matter. but they are not normal, and this is not a normal story, so…

Outside, two armies were poised to fight. The moment was here, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He remembered the Regent’s constant suggestion: Bed my nephew. He had done that, wooed him, won him. Charcy, he saw, hadn’t mattered to the Regent. It hadn’t meant anything. The Regent’s real weapon against Laurent had always been Damen himself.

damen thinks the regent’s plan had been to weaken laurent by putting him in circumstances where he’d unknowingly make himself vulnerable with his brother’s killer, triggering him emotionally and destroying his judgment. i'm pretty sure that this was basically his intention, but had also made sure that it would also torture laurent even if he did recognize damen on the spot.

personally i think the regent knew that laurent knew in book 1 through observing his reaction, but had planned for both possibilities in advance. what he hadn't expected, though, was for laurent and damen to start genuinely working together instead of against each other. this happens early as the thing with patras, and really pops off during the botched assassination attempt.

charcy was meant to drive a wedge between them, to correct the regent's previous miscalculation. and given the inevitable truth damen must now reveal, there's nothing he can really do to stop laurent from being upset.

‘I’ve come to tell you who I am.’ Laurent was so keenly familiar, the shade of his hair, the strapped down clothing, the full lips that he held tense or cruelly repressed, the ruthless asceticism, the unbearable blue eyes. ‘I know who you are, Damianos,’ said Laurent. Damen heard it, as the interior of the tent seemed to change, so that all of the objects in it took on a different shape. ‘Did you think,’ said Laurent, ‘I wouldn’t recognise the man who killed my brother?’

the way i YELLED during my first read. i remember even like posting something before, like “oh my god damen just tell him put this poor man out of his misery,” and then after i got to this part i immediately went and deleted that post

Each word was an ice chip. Painful, sharp; a shard. Laurent’s voice was perfectly steady.

do you think he practiced this?

‘I knew in the palace, when they dragged you in front of me,’ said Laurent. The words continued, steady, relentless. ‘I knew in the baths when I ordered you flayed. I knew—’

he definitely practiced this

‘At Ravenel?’ said Damen.

“you knew when you kissed me and let me fuck you????”

‘If you knew,’ said Damen, ‘how could you—’ ‘Let you fuck me?’ His own chest hurt, so that he almost didn’t notice the signs of it in Laurent, the control, the face, pale at any time, now white.

he almost didn’t notice the signs, which means he still totally did. because even now, damen is attentive and caring towards laurent

‘I needed a victory at Charcy. You provided it. It was worth enduring,’ Laurent spoke the terrible, lucid words, ‘your fumbling attentions for that.’

LIARRRRRRR

It hurt so much it took the breath from his throat. ‘You’re lying.’ Damen’s heart was pounding. ‘You’re lying.’ The words were too loud. ‘You thought I was leaving. You practically threw me out.’ He said it, as the realisation blossomed inside him. ‘You knew who I was. You knew who I was the night we made love.’

tbh i think this kind of realization would make me have a panic attack on the spot. also do you think this is the kind of betrayal he’s been trying so hard to avoiding confronting, coming from kastor and jokaste? but here he has no choice to confront it, because laurent is forcing him to understand the depths of the deception. no avoiding it now

He thought of Laurent surrendering, not the first time, but the second, the slower, sweeter time, the tension in him, the way he had— ‘You weren’t making love to a slave, you were making love to me.’

very true, but laurent isn’t ready to deal with it. he can’t keep up the cognitive dissonance in the present, but that doesn’t mean he’s about to accept that it was real in the past. instead he’ll just lash out.

And he couldn’t think that through clearly but he could catch a glimmer of it, a glimmer of the edge of it. ‘I thought you wouldn’t, I thought you’d never—’

OF COURSE damen suspected, at some points, that laurent knew. but this tells us that he’d ultimately dismissed the notion because it would have been insane for laurent to kiss and fuck him, while knowing his real identity. “i thought you wouldn’t, i thought you’d never—“

this is similar to how i thought about it during my first read—i suspected for all of book 1, and some of book 2, but then figured that the story was taking a different direction because how the hell could the plot points of “laurent knows who damen is” and “laurent makes himself vulnerable to damen and does a romance/sex about it” possibly be compatible? laurent, a deeply traumatized and self-protective person, wouldn’t and would never. except i underestimated laurent’s capacity for self-delusion, and overestimated the amount of control he truly has over his emotions and impulses, beneath all the posturing. damen, here, is recognizing that he’s made similar miscalculations, and now he’s seeing laurent as he truly is. they’re both seeing each other, truly, for the first time.

‘Laurent, six years ago, when I fought Auguste, I—’ ‘Don’t you say his name.’ The words were forced out of Laurent. ‘Don’t you ever say his name, you killed my brother.’

i like the simplicity of this. just the plainness of “you killed my brother.” laurent’s language is so often clever and cagey and embellished, but that last sentiment is raw and informal, and what we the reader are probably screaming in our heads. because yeah, holy shit, damen killed laurent’s brother. it’s a pretty hard thing to argue against, or ignore. “you lied to me” “you killed my brother” “you flogged me” “you killed my brother” “you forgot to do the dishes” “you killed my brother”

Laurent was breathing shallowly, almost panting as he spoke, his hands rigid on the edge of the table behind him.

his practiced words are saying one thing, but his body is very obviously having a panic attack. this scene isn’t nearly as much of a laurent mean girl moment as it seemed during a rushed first read. that’s actually kind of a relief to me, bc it made me sad to interpret him as so heartless and unfazed the first time around. even if “hello lover” is an iconic moment, it’s a performance more than anything else. and pacat shows us this sooner than i recalled or first perceived. she’s not torturing us, the reader, as much as she’s torturing both damen and laurent. and it’s not even like a lazy misunderstanding kind of torture, this is genuinely complicated and they’re both in the wrong and they both are justified in this pain and hurt. i just couldn’t see that as well the first time, having binged like all of book 2 already and having no idea what would happen next and honestly just being shocked and betrayed and compelled by the massive mislead with laurent’s awareness of the situation

‘Is that what you want to hear, that I knew who you were and I still let you fuck me, my brother’s killer, who cut him down like an animal on the field?’

you know he doesn’t, laurent, that’s just what you’re telling yourself now that you’re forced to confront it. you started this scene with “hello lover” and your prepared speech, hoping to destroy damen emotionally, but once again you’ve just kinda played yourself. maybe just cool it with the emotional gambits for now, when it comes to damen, bc they only really seem to come back and hurt you (oh fuck he can’t hear me)

‘Shall I ask you how you did it? What he looked like when your sword went in?’ ‘No,’ said Damen.

laurent, shaking, pale, looks like he’s about to pass out: “you bastard, tell me about how you murdered my brother as i think about the fact that i let you fuck me in a similar way, go ahead just make it hurt more”

damen, not a therapist but still emotionally intelligent enough to know this isn’t really about punishing him: no, i don’t think i will. can you like sit down

‘Or shall I tell you about the illusion of the man who gave me good counsel. Who stood by me. Who never lied to me.’ ‘I never lied to you.’

that italicized “i” is interesting. is it an accusation of laurent’s own lying and hypocrisy, or a specification that damen never directly told laurent he wasn’t damianos? given damen’s well-established integrity, i’m guessing it’s the first option. again with the mutual moral arbitration. and damen wouldn’t want to take such a weak a cop-out as “well i never technically said it,” it’s just not typical of his character.

The words were awful in the silence that followed them. ‘“Laurent, I am your slave”?’ said Laurent. He felt the breath forced out from his lungs.

of course laurent takes it as the second option, though, and implies that by swearing himself to laurent and then bedding him damen was directly lying about his identity. because to laurent, damen =/= damianos. a slave can’t be a prince. so damianos, the prince, must have been intentionally lying about being damen, the slave. and that’s actually easier, and less painful, and less complicated to accept than any kind of nuanced alternative.

‘Don’t,’ he said, ‘talk about it like—’ ‘Like?’ ‘Like it was cold-blooded; like I controlled it. Like we didn’t both close our eyes and pretend I was a slave.’ He made himself say the exposing words. ‘I was your slave.’

he’s right. nothing much to add here. damen wasn't just literally laurent's slave, he had devoted himself emotionally as well, and he's admitting it here despite the fact that it makes him vulnerable—something laurent is too much of a (traumatized, understandable) coward to do himself. i love damen's characterization so much

‘There was no slave,’ said Laurent. ‘He never existed. I don’t know what manner of man stands before me now. All I know is that I am facing him for the first time.’ ‘He is here.’ His flesh ached as if he had been prised open. ‘We are the same.’

this gives us some insight to laurent’s actions in book 1—not necessarily excusing them, but making them fit better into what we’ve since learned about his moral code. it ties things together, which isn’t the same as making them simpler or easier to like. pacat is very very VERY good at establishing continuous moral ambiguity in her characters, and does not rush the slow burn of making ends meet. so when she does eventually begin to connect things, it’s satisfying, because it hasn’t been all been spelled out the whole time so readers don’t have to think for themselves. this, in reference to a lot of the series’s more problematic themes, is exactly why i think people end up seeing capri as apologism or glamorization. but by claiming that, i also think they’re exposing themselves as impatient, shallow, and (sorry) simply lazy.

but i don't just want to be reductive and uncharitable, because that would be shallow and lazy too. to be perfectly clear, i honestly can't blame people for disliking this series, and not being willing or able to have patience and understanding for its more problematic elements. this series is marketed as romance/erotica. it started as indulgent kink fic. it ended up evolving into its current state during its development—and i'm really glad it did, but that doesn't change the fact that so much of its marketing and premise imply certain things that it doesn't quite deliver. and if you look up the series today, as it's still being published years after its completion, it's still marketed in a way i find somewhat misleading. to the extent that when i picked it up, it was in an intentional attempt to expand my own horizons—i wanted to challenge myself with indulgent shameless problematic porn/romance, as opposed to the weak-ass "enemies" to lovers running rival bakeries gay romance novels with canva covers that haven't worked for me in the past. the logic was basically, "well, if i don't like romance on that side of the scale, maybe i'll like the opposite extreme, or at least learn more about what i don't like." and i did feel pretty challenged during book 1, to the point that for a while i only kept reading out of morbid curiosity and vague horniness rather than any genuine expectation of depth or satisfying storytelling. it was only around the assassination scene in book 1 that i started to see the book as something capable of more depth and intrigue than just like kinky debauchery, and it pretty much just snowballed from there. and as someone who frequently reads about these dark topics in other genres and contexts, i was familiar enough with the things happening on the page to at least stomach them and push foward.

however, if i was coming at the series from a different place—like if i loved cozy romance and had very little familiarity with reading about these topics—i can see the first book especially being very blindsiding and distressing, and not wanting to engage with it further. that's not laziness, it just means that the book wasn't for me.

and the nuance doesn't end there. one of the things i love most about this series is that, even if i was just looking for shameless slavekink porn and decidedly did not want to rise to the occasion of depth or thematic exploration, i would also walk away unsatisfied. because the truly problematic shit in these books is not shameless at all, and indulgence never comes without a cost. there are a few distasteful moments that make me roll my eyes, and the garden scene definitely prompts a Conversation—but as a whole, i think pacat is very aware of the moral implications of these themes. and i also think she's perfectly aware of the fact that many people get off on them.

this series almost feels like an accidental study of, like, the psychological implications of being a person compelled by dub-con and problematic kink, finding a sort of gratification in situations where those things ar kind of inevitable (like they are for damen in book 1). AND this is made even more complicated and brave by the fact that laurent is, very relevantly, a victim of serious sexual assault. like, as hot as some of the scenes in this book are, i really don't think it makes itself easy for people to just uncritically get themselves off to. it doesn't encourage shame, but it does encourage introspection. and a lot of people simply don't read erotica and romance to introspect. (couldn't be me though. if it isn't clear, i love the laurent of vere "having insane mindfucking sex fully clothed across the room" approach to eroticism).

i feel like it's actually kind of funny that i specifically got here, as a person who almost always reads books that force dark introspection, and assumed that this erotica/romance book would be mindless, but ended up with gestures vaguely instead. for me, coming across this series and realizing what it truly is was an incredibly happy accident. but for others, i completely understand how it could be the exact opposite, and it's not lazy or shallow to realize that you misunderstood what you were getting yourself into and step away.

what is lazy and shallow, though, is to either DNF and review based on those misconceptions, or keep reading simply to fuel your own disdain and discomfort. ultimately, i think that the true error of people who walk into capri wanting shameless porn or untroubling romance is the fact that they keep reading, even when it becomes clear that the book isn't doing that. and then they decide to evaluate the book based on expectations and standards that aren't the ones the author or fans have for the work itself. people seem to take out their anger towards the SUBJECTS of slavery or rape in fiction themselves on capri, rather then the way capri specifically portrays them. either because they fucking stopped reading the book and just wanted to go on a tangent on the topics in general, or hate-read to confirm their own pre-existing bias.

my point is, nobody has to read things that trigger or upset them, and it's okay to just pass on fictional stuff that makes you feel bad or frustrated. aspects of this series made me feel bad and frustrated, even on re-read, but i enjoy the intellectual and emotional exercise of exploring those feelings and better understanding the true meaning and purpose of the art. but there are certain topics in other works of fiction that i'm unwilling to explore, which would cause me to simply stop reading, and if asked for a review i'd just say that i'm not the right person to say. and there have been many times where i've continued reading a book, hoping it would change directions, and ended up just being like, "yeah, that wasn't for me," and moving on.

the exchange "there was no slave, he never existed" "here is here, we are the same" is almost a meta-commentary on the reception of the series as a whole. it would be dishonest to deny how this series started, and some of the themes and subjects it intentionally confronts. you can't say "there was no slave [kink], [it] never existed" because the narrative proceeded to be more of a commentary on kink rather than an uncritical display of it. kink, and dark topics in fiction in general, do all have depth, and while they might not be for everyone, they are for someone. exploring that depth is entirely optional, and i understand why people with certain experiences don't want anything to do with that exploration. but our personal tastes don't change the fact that subjects like slavery and rape exist, and that reality is inseparable from the stories that come from it. ultimately, the choice is whether we're willing to take that specific reality thoughtfully on, or else just walk away.

the people i have the hardest time with are the ones who choose neither of those options. like, what do you even get out of continuing to read something that you're unwilling to explore in good faith, or that you straight-up hate? just read something else. we only have so much time in the day. stop wasting yours, and stop wasting the time of people who actually enjoy the thing with your useless bad-faith criticism. sorry this tangent has totally departed from the chapter itself, but that really is what pisses me off so much about current-day online book culture. like, i'm thinking about all of those smug-looking booktubers making 2 hour videos called "i read [name of book that doesn't appeal to the lowest common denominator of people] so you don't have to." i know how long it takes to read books thoughtfully, and then to write, film, and edit videos. maybe stop wasting your own time and dig into something you love instead, or even try to make your own thing, and just hope that some smug asshole on the internet doesn't decide to do to your work what you've done to other people's work. but no, lazy cynicism and appealing to the easy gimmick of cringe is way more profitable, i guess. and it makes you less vulnerable to people criticizing work that came from your soul, because the work you're creating is completely soulless.

anyway. i wonder what kind of totally normal things damen and laurent are up to in the chapter i'm annotating

‘Kneel then,’ said Laurent. ‘Kiss my boot.’

"if you really are still a slave, even though we both know you’re a king, then do a demeaning slave thing right now"

He looked into Laurent’s excoriating blue eyes. The impossibility of it was like a sharp pain. He couldn’t do it. He could only gaze at Laurent across the distance between them. The words hurt. ‘You’re right. I’m not a slave,’ he said.

can’t indulge in the kink anymore by circumstantial necessity, but i’m sure they’ll find something even weirder to do instead on purpose

‘I am the King.’ He said, ‘I killed your brother. And now I hold your fort.’ As he spoke, Damen drew out a knife. He felt rather than saw all of Laurent’s attention swing to it. The physical signs were small: Laurent’s lips parted, his body tensed. Laurent didn’t look at the knife. He kept his eyes on Damen, who looked right back at him. ‘So you will parley with me as with a king, and you will tell me why you called me here.’ Deliberately, Damen tossed the knife onto the floor of the tent.

okay this is just extra of him, but i mean laurent got to do “hello lover” so damen deserves to be dramatic too as a treat. i also like what this symbolizes, as opposed to their previous knife moments. as defined by their stations, they don’t have a power imbalance anymore, and they don’t have a reason to be enemies. they are a prince and a king, not a master and a slave. they are military allies, teaming up against the regent. any power imbalance and beef they have now is emotional, complicated, and abstract, nothing clear-cut (haha) enough to be represented by an instrument of simple violence like a knife. and damen summarizes this perfectly, in the context of their previous knife moments, by viscerally reminding laurent of those encounters and then just tossing the thing across the room.

honestly, i bet laurent feels jealous of the clever performative gesture. and maybe a little turned on, too, despite the horrors. that’s a fun reversal.

‘Didn’t you know?’ said Laurent. ‘My uncle is in Akielos.’

yeah, he got a really good all-inclusive deal at the akielion sandals resort and needed a vacation after all of the murder and [redacted]

[httpiastri]

PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER THREE (MELBOURNE & IMOLA)

genre: angst, fluff, comfort, etc.

word count: 6.6k

warnings: more heartbreak but that's probs it

author's note: hello again !!! i've been meaning to post this for several days now but never found the strength to proofread it all. decided to fit melbourne and imola both into one chapter because they were kinda short on their own, and they are about a lot of similar stuff so i think it made sense. hope you enjoy, thank you for all love on this <33 monaco chapter is like maybe halfway done so it shouldn't take too long !! (& i like that one more hehe)

series masterlist

MELBOURNE

"ollie, put on your sunglasses," dino tells his friend, doing the same with his own reflective sunglasses before flipping his cap around. "let's look tough and cool."

you roll your eyes, shaking your head at the boys in front of you. ollie does as he's told, both of them crossing their arms over their chests as they lean their shoulders against each others. "is that really the pose you're going for?" you ask, and you're instantly met with a string of protests from the impatient swedish man, making you raise your hands in defense. "as you wish..."

you lean back slightly to fit the whole wall behind them into the frame, all works of graffiti apparently important to include, according to your friend. you're glad that you were quick to press the button to take the picture since, of course, they can't keep the pose for more than a few seconds before breaking into a fit of laughter.

you may be complaining a lot about having been dragged around melbourne the entire day, taking photos of your friends, and being forced to socialize. but really, you're thankful for this opportunity to take your mind off everything that's been going on. during your entire break since jeddah, you've been mourning your feature race and dwelling on everything about paul. it's easy to get stuck in your head, to only remember the bad things. and in those times, you're glad to have people around you to pull you out of the darkness.

melbourne will be different. that's what you've been telling yourself ever since you got out of the car in jeddah. you got your first f3 win here last season, and despite how it's still a fairly new track to you, you have a lot of confidence driving around it. you have faith in your car, and you know you have the skills to perform well. you just need to actually score some points again to keep up in the championship.

"can you two losers stop laughing already?" you huff, slipping your phone into your pocket. "i'm starving, and i refuse to have dinner in the f2 hospitality before the race weekend has even started."

"blah blah blah, you're just picky," dino says as he strolls up to you, one of his hands coming up to mess up your hair. you shoot him a glare. "whatever, let's get going. i'm really hungry myself, actually."

you rake a hand through your hair to fix the chaos he caused, before hurrying to keep up with the long-legged boys who've already started walking away. as you squeeze in between them, ollie reaches for your hand, fingers slipping between yours. you let out a content sigh; not only because you're finally getting some food, nor because of the way ollie squeezes your hand.

like this, it's like you don't seem to have a single care about anything in the world. like you've just flown across the world to hang out with your best friend and your boyfriend, to just have fun and relax in the sun.

dino and ollie pick up on the change in your mood, too; it's hard not to. though you haven't spent any time with them during the break, with the trio split up between england and italy, your slump has been so palpable that they could tell even from so far away. so seeing you this lighthearted and happy makes them satisfied, too.

the calm before the storm, as they say.

"and you said i was the picky one?" you ask as dino sits down at your table in the hospitality, nothing but some plain pasta and some kind of meat pie on his plate.

"you're not much better now, are you?" he asks back, glancing down at your empty plate and then up at your face again. the little baguette you've already eaten was not nearly enough to fuel you for the upcoming qualifying session.

you sigh. "i miss the fish and chips we had yesterday..."

"that was definitely not a part of our diet plan."

a scoff passes your lips and you shake your head. "maybe it wasn't the best possible food for my performance," you start, looking over your shoulder at the long buffet table. "but at least it was edible. my muscles may not have grown, but my heart sure did. isn't that important, too?"

dino chuckles as he chews down some pasta, shrugging his shoulders. "speaking of your heart," he says before taking a long sip from his water bottle. "i was surprised to see how lovey-dovey you and ollie were yesterday."

you raise an eyebrow at him. "aren't we always like that?"

"yeah you are, that's the thing."

you pause for a long moment. "and what's that supposed to mean?"

a sliver of regret makes its way onto his face, so slight you almost don't pick up on it. "well..." he tries his best to play it cool, even pulling his phone out of his pocket to check his notifications, but you see right through him. "i may have heard something, but it doesn't mat-"

you can't stop yourself from cutting him off. "tell me. now."

now it's dino's time to let out a sigh, pulling a hand through his hair. "i heard that you and ollie were having problems. but clearly, that's not the case."

"and who told you that?"

"well, here's the thing, i-" dino's voice cracks just like it always does when he's nervous or when he's lying. he takes a second to clear his throat, and you intervene.

"it was paul, wasn't it?" you ask, and he doesn't answer. the fact that he doesn't immediately deny it, along with his blank expression, gives it away. "that idiot! oh my god..." dino is just about to speak up again, to explain himself or make up an excuse, but you give him no space. "why are you listening to him and not me? why would you not ask me if it's true before assuming something? is he really more reliable when it comes to my relationship?"

"y/n, you know i'm stuck between you three. you're all my best friends, and..." he drags a hand down his face, shaking his head. "how should i know who to trust and who to talk to? i can't even mention him around you."

when his words kick in, your expression softens from the infuriated frown you were earlier displaying. you understand what he means; it must be hard for him to be in the middle of this ongoing cold war. "i get it, i get it," you finally say with a dismissive hand gesture. "just... tell me the details. tell me exactly what he said."

to be fair, the things paul had said to dino weren't as bad as you had expected. it had just been a tiny comment, something along the lines of how paul wasn't sure if you and ollie were still as comfortable around each other since you weren't spotted with him in the paddock in bahrain.

a full-on lie, but not the worst thing to ever happen.

though, what dino then tells you about, is the fact that paul wasn't the only one he heard about it from. kimi had confided in him, too; just like gabriel and dennis.

kimi's story had been pretty much the same as what paul told dino, but dennis said that he had heard that you and ollie had broken up already. and according to gabriel, paul has been telling people that you and ollie are only dating for publicity.

what a joke.

the weight of the rumors sits heavy on your shoulders, but you refuse to let them break you. and despite how much you loathe the thought of even looking at him, your body is bubbling with the need to confront him. this can't go on.

how are you supposed to not think about paul and ollie all day, every day after that?

when you know your ex-boyfriend has been spreading fake rumors about you, how are you supposed to look at his stupid smile when he's walking through the paddock and not punch him in the face?

you manage to restrain yourself, with some help from pepe subtly grabbing your arm to hold you back whenever he notices that paul is near. the negative thing is that it means you don't get an outlet for your emotions.

you have yet to find any positives to it.

you were always told to not mix your driving with romance. now, you understand why. you're so distracted that pretty much everything gets messed up your entire weekend. you aren't able to prepare well for your sessions, so you end up with a weak 15:th position in the qualifying, along with one dnf in the sprint, in what's probably one of the fastest cars on the grid this weekend.

not even the feature works out for you. after a lucky start with five positions gained, you were finally fighting for points again. though, stalling in the pit is apparently not the most optimal thing to do when looking to climb the ranks, which was something you learned the hard way.

the worst of it all is the fact that of course paul ended up with yet another podium. where's the karma in that?

just when you've gotten out of your car and made your way back to the paddock, you spot him. he's on his way to the podium from the cooldown room, climbing a staircase and loudly chatting with zane maloney about the race.

this time, you can't hold back. he ruined your race; he deserves your anger.

"you're a complete idiot, you know that, right?"

your voice startles zane, who looks at you with a guilty expression for a moment until he takes in paul's reaction, realizing that he's not the one you're mat at. "yeah?" the estonian chuckles.

"yeah, you are!" the volume and intensity of your voice rise by the second as you make your way to the foot of the staircase. "where did you find the audacity to run around spreading false rumors about me and my boyfriend?!"

zane slowly steps away, not wanting to get caught in this crossfire, and ascends the steps towards the podium. paul's amused expression doesn't change at all. "what false rumors?"

you gawk at him, completely dumbfounded by his entire way of acting. "that we're having issues."

"well, you are."

"we are not!"

"come on," he starts shaking his head as you take a quick couple of steps up the staircase. "it's easy to see that you're not happy with him."

it doesn't take long for you to reach the landing he's standing on, and for the first time ever, you find yourself hating how tall he is. the way he looks down at you only furthers your aggravation – it's like you're smaller, like you matter less, like you aren't as strong. "and how would you know that i'm not happy?"

he sighs, as if he's completely uninterested in this entire conversation. like your anger doesn't affect him the slightest. "because i know you." he shrugs. "you don't smile like you used to. ollie isn't right for you."

"oh, but you were?!" you scoff, not believing your ears. "you're so conceited, holy shit! you just ruined my weekend, you ruined both of my races, just- leave me and ollie alone!"

when you turn around to descend the stairs again, you notice the crowd that's started to form below you. great. you haven't exactly been subtle, and you wouldn't be surprised if your yells could be heard all the way back to the campos garage. the sight should scare you – any other day, you would've been so embarrassed you'd want to melt through the floor. but right now, you're too full on anger to care.

"maybe you would be driving better if you were still with me."

paul's voice stops you just as you're about to walk down the first step. you slowly turn back to him, mouth gaping wide and eyes blown up.

"something about being with him is clearly bothering you. you weren't like this when you were with me." you're at a loss for words, which he notices and takes advantage of. "you're prioritizing him over your own racing. you did it in bahrain, you did it again in jeddah. it's not good for you."

"maybe what's not good for me is you, have you ever thought about that?" you walk up to him, a finger pressed up to his chest as you stare up at him. "maybe the reason i'm distracted because you won't leave me alone! you keep on spreading these stupid rumors about me and-" you have to pause for a moment to force down the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. "i can't take it! just back the fuck off!"

you feel like you could explode any second – if that isn't what you just did – and the fact that paul still looks like he doesn't give one single fuck about this makes you want to give him that beating he so deserves. but you hear pepe's voice in the back of your head, reminding you of how the fia wouldn't appreciate having a driver on the grid who gets into fistfights, and so you back off. with one last shake of your head, you turn again, storming down the stairs.

the sea of people at the end of the staircase splits open for you and you hurry away, not taking any time to see if you notice anyone you know in the crowd. you hear a familiar voice call out for you, one you can't quite identify, but you continue running towards your truck.

paul is an idiot – there's no denying in that fact.

but why was there more passion in these two minutes of fighting him than you've had in your entire relationship with ollie?

he can't be right, you decide. you really are in love with ollie, but not in a way that makes you compromise your racing. it's a great relationship, no matter how different it is from the one you had with paul. he may not believe it, but you will make it work.

he can't be right. you won't let him.

ollie heard about the fight between you and paul just minutes later. of course, there are people around the paddock who loves to run around and gossip – and how could they not tell the story of this huge fight to the man who was the topic of it?

in hindsight, he should've come to you instantly. he thought that the wise thing would be to give you space, to give you a few moments to breathe before he came in with all kinds of questions.

but then, when you finally come out of the campos truck over an hour later and make your way over to where he is waiting for you, he can't say anything. he sees the redness of your eyes and hears your heavy sighs loud and clear, and he knows you won't want to talk. he's too late; the wound may still be far from healed, but he still doesn't want to rip off the bandaid you've so carefully applied on yourself.

all he can do is wrap his arms around you, let you rest against his chest and kiss the top of your head, hoping to bring you at least a little bit of comfort.

next time, he will be quicker. he will be there for you right when you need it.

ollie sleeps soundlessly next to you when you pull out your journal from the bedside table. he hasn't had the most flawless weekend either, but at least he scored his first points of the season, which is a great start.

you usually can write paragraphs upon paragraphs about paul. any other day, you're jane austen and nicholas sparks both in one body. but today, there's only one thing that comes out of you.

paul aron is an asshole.

after a few seconds of just staring at your blank journal, another sentence comes to you; one you just can't bring yourself to write down.

but what if he's right?

maybe what you have with ollie isn't true love.

but maybe it's enough.

yourusername just posted!

yourusername not the best weekend race-wise, but alright off the track. we will come back stronger, thank you to the team for all of the hard work :)

show all 54 comments

user keep pushing y/n!! don't let this weekend affect you ❤️

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user .....what is pepe doing in the last slide?

→ yourusername wish i knew 🤷‍♀️ he sure looked silly doing it, that's all i know

→ user ollie and dino then?

→ yourusername 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user pretty embarrassing weekend tbh

→ user send your hate somewhere else

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user did anyone else hear those rumors... about her and paul....

→ user omg what rumors

→ user check your dms 😘

IMOLA

melbourne was not a good weekend in any possible way, and having it be the last weekend before a long break? not exactly what you had hoped for.

in times like these, you do the one thing you're better at than anyone; distracting yourself.

hours upon hours in the red bull simulator, mornings and evenings at the gym, rewatching old f1 and f2 races all night. anything to get your mind off your love life. pepe is a lifesaver too, since he's good at picking up on the little hints about your current mood and he understands which of your buttons not to push when you're like this.

though ollie understands why you're behaving the way you are after melbourne, he still doesn't enjoy the fact that you're much less open and harder to get hold of. there's a long period of time where you don't answer his texts as often as you usually do, where you cut your face time calls short for random reasons, and where he just can't get through to you. and it hurts him so much more since he's several hours away in italy, not able to properly talk to you about it.

that's why he was overjoyed when you arrived in imola a few days earlier than you needed, just so the two of you could spend some time alone before the weekend started.

it's currently wednesday night, and you just need to swing by your hotel room before heading out for dinner. "i'm to be really quick," you say as the light on the door blinks green and you enter, shuffling over to your suitcase. "i just need to find my purse..."

ollie strolls around for a few moments, almost as if inspecting the room, before just standing to watch the sun set over the city through your balcony door. eventually, you hear his voice from behind you. "what's this?"

when you turn around, you find him staring down into your open duffle bag on the floor – and on top of all your clothes lies your journal.

shit.

"it's... nothing."

he chuckles. "it's clearly not nothing. it looks like it's been used quite a lot," he says, eyes moving over to you. "is it a novel? a calendar?"

you turn back to your suitcase, pretending like it's no big deal, that you're just much more interested in finding your purse. "well, something like that."

"something like what?" ollie frowns, bending down a little to take a closer look at the outside.

"found it!" you reach for your handbag, pulling it out and holding it up in the air as you step away from the suitcase. "we can go now."

"why aren't you telling me? is it secret?"

ollie is stubborn; it's one of the things you like about him, one of the things that makes him the person he is. without his determination, he would've never made it to f2 nor the ferrari driver academy – and he wouldn't be your boyfriend. so, you aren't surprised that he's not letting go of your journal.

he can clearly tell it's a big deal for you, despite the fact that you try to hide it, and he can't help but feel a bit of worry creep into him when you don't answer him instantly. he regrets pushing you for an answer, but he's also immensely curious – and he's a bit tired of you still keeping secrets from him, despite the fact that he would never tell you that.

after a few more moments of silence, he takes your hand, leading you to sit down on the edge of the bed with him. and with the way he's looking at you, there's no way you can hold back from telling him.

you tell him about when you first bought it, that rainy day back home in cambridge and that little bookshop near your elementary school. you tell him about how it just called for you, begged for you to buy it, how the dark blue color felt like it was chosen just to attract attention from your eyes and your eyes only.

and you tell him about your therapist and the amount of time you've spent trying to work out all of your issues. you tell him about how when she suggested that you find an outlet for your emotions that's more easily accessible during race weekends, your mind instantly wandered to the little journal you'd bought but found no use for yet.

but you make sure to leave out all of the details, only filling him in on the major issues. you don't tell him about just how bad your performance anxiety gets, or about how close you've been to just quitting racing when your imposter syndrome thoughts cloud your mind. you can't let him know too much, get too close.

you try to brush it off as something casual, like it's no big deal; but you also make sure to tell him how extremely secret it is and about the many ways you would kill him by if you found out he'd read in it. your tone is one of levity, of course – but in reality, you weren't really kidding.

paul knew about the journal, too, and you knew how much he longed to know more than the color of the wrapping. you'd often find him with pleading eyes as he watched you write, tiny pout on his lips and a joking comment along the lines of "you're not cursing me out in that, are you?".

but despite how curious he was, paul never overstepped his boundaries. he would never – and you trust that ollie won't, either. he's far too good for that, too kindhearted and empathetic to go against your wishes. especially with how fragile and vulnerable you look to him in this moment.

he makes sure to listen to every word that leaves your mouth, nodding understandingly and letting you finish pouring your heart out before he speaks up.

"you know, you could also use me if you want to,” he starts, a gentle hand coming up to caress your cheek. "to talk to, i mean. or rant, or anything. if you think being vocal about it instead of writing could work."

of course he would try to find a way to help you out. to him, it's a win-win situation – if venting to him works for you, then that's great, but it would also mean that he could maybe finally work himself past that wall you've built up around yourself. if you start telling him about your feelings for your own sake, maybe he can finally get to know you better and get closer to you.

but that's the thing. opening up means being vulnerable, letting your guard down. you do trust him, you really do; so why can't you just do it?

ollie smiles at the little nod you give him – it's not a promise, but it's a good start. you've started talking to him, and he thinks that maybe the momentum will keep you going.

you realize that he's still holding your hand when he gives it a soft squeeze, standing up from the bed. "enough of that now," he says, trying to ignore the slightly somber expression taking over your features. "let's go to that restaurant, hm?"

you intertwine your fingers with his and rise next to him, slinging your purse over your shoulder with another nod. "let's go."

seven missed calls.

that's the sight you're met by when you scan over your phone notifications after your post-qualifying debrief with the team. you don't even need to check who they're from; you knew your dad would be dissatisfied with your results from the second you stepped out of your car halfway through the session.

before today, you hadn't spun out in a qualifying session since your karting days – but apparently, there's a first time for everything. another qualifying outside of the top ten means that yet again, you will be starting in the lower ranks in both races. missing out on the reverse grid always sucks, but it sucks a little extra when you know you could've, and should've, performed better. with pepe's third-place finish, you know your campos car was good enough to end up in the top of the timings. if only you'd kept the car on the track, maybe you could've proved something.

proven that you're capable, proven that you belong here. proven that you actually can handle the pressure.

if you know your dad right, he's definitely not calling to give you his condolences or cheer you up. it's not exactly his style. chances are, he's not just going to criticize your performance, but also compare it to a certain someone else's.

ollie managed to snatch that second place for the starting grid on sunday, which is something you should only be happy about. but as much as you adore your boyfriend and wish him all of the joy in the world, it's upsetting that he needed to perform so well this weekend. it's like the fuel to your dad's "you should've gone to ferrari"-fire he wanted so badly.

pepe knows that look on your face by now; he's been a first-hand witness to your fights with your father too many times to count by now. his hand on your shoulder gives you a quick squeeze after he's watched you flip your phone upside down on the table with a sigh before slumping further into your seat.

"did someone die in here or what?" sebastian's voice spreads through the room when he walks into it and catches a glimpse of you. the air is so thick with tension that he fears he will choke on it if he doesn't try to lighten the mood a bit.

"nothing except my weekend, i guess," you mumble back, not giving into his attempt that easily. what's he so happy for, anyway? his result of qualifying 25th isn't exactly something to celebrate, either.

"hey, cheer up," sebastian says. "we'll have an overtaking party this weekend!"

when you stay quiet, pepe says something quick in spanish to sebastian who just nods, eyes flickering between you two. you let out a groan – it's ironic, really, since you're a driver for a spanish team, but you hate it when people speak spanish around you since you can't understand it. especially when you know they're talking about you but not with you.

pepe apologizes instantly, but the smile on his lips never falters. not even your behavior is enough to stop him from beaming over his own qualifying results. for the first time in a while, he is actually happy after a session – and he won't let you ruin it.

"okay, come on. i have the perfect plan to save this night," pepe starts. your phone buzzes on the table with what you assume is another angry message, and you're just about to open it when he interjects. "and that starts with giving me your phone."

"that seems pretty suspicious…" you say, though you understand immediately why he does it. pepe knows you far too well already.

you reluctantly place your phone into the hand he holds out for you. "i promise to let you know if ollie or anyone on the team texts you. but i think you need to stay away from this for a while." he nods toward sebastian, whose eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "could you run out to get some kind of candy? anything that could work as poker chips is good enough."

"and i suppose that means my deck of cards is needed, too?" you ask, not able to hold back from smiling anymore at your friend's silly attempt to cheer you up.

"you bet."

call it childish, but your poker session really did serve its purpose. it ended up being the first time you've been able to properly relax and just have fun in months. it didn’t matter that none of you three got a lot of sleep – just getting to enjoy the moment was good enough.

however, the next day, it was all back to square one again.

the sprint race was indeed an overtaking party, as sebastian had suggested – but six overtakes from p20 is still not enough for any points, not even when about five drivers crash in the first lap. despite all that, you still had some hope for the feature; even more laps to work your way up the ranks and the possibility of having a good strategy were the only two thoughts on your mind.

but yet again, you left the race having scored exactly no points. and to your biggest annoyance, the winner was the one person you prayed would not get the win. one pretty much no one had expected.

just like spa last year in f3, paul was insanely lucky with his choice of strategy. with a perfectly timed late pit stop when the safety car came out, he came out in the front of the field on his new option tires. pretty much the entire field behind him had opted for the opposite strategy, which meant he soared away at the safety car restart and took the win quite easily.

at least, now the championship can't possibly get any worse, can it?

celebrations are always due when paul wins, and this weekend is no exception. you honestly wanted nothing more than to stay back in your hotel room and forget about the weekend even happening. but after some combined begging from ollie, pepe and jak, all saying something about how "you're no fun anymore" and "it's been so long since you partied with us", you finally gave in.

"and i promise, you won't be left alone for even a second," ollie whispers into your ear as he wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you through the door to the club of the night. "i'll be right here, and all of your other friends. okay?"

your answer comes in the form of a hum and a quick nod as the loud music floods all of your senses the second you step into the club. your boyfriend gives you a squeeze, just about to speak up again, when he spots pepe waving at you both from a table a few meters ahead.

"you actually made it!" he exclaims when you join him, reaching over to give your shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting his hand drop to his side again. "and you look great. i was scared you'd show up wearing your race suit or pyjamas just as a form of protest."

"trust me, i wanted to," you tell him with a shrug. "but someone stopped me. said it wasn’t appropriate."

"what, i was just supposed to let you make a fool of yourself?" ollie scoffs from next to you. "isn't that why i'm your boyfriend? making sure you don't embarrass yourself in public?"

"of course, what else?" you say back without missing a beat, giving him a pat on the top of his head. you then turn to greet dennis, zak and gabriel, who are also standing by the table. the discussion around the table easily falls into a race debrief, before morphing into a debate about the f1 race of the night. but it doesn't take long until the group is split up, with pepe and gabriel deciding to go for a round of dancing on the dance floor, and dennis and zak both running off toward the bathrooms.

you have to confirm to ollie about five times that you indeed will be alright standing alone for a few moments as he walks the twenty meters away to the bar to get you both a drink before he actually goes away. the way he's treating you feels somewhat strange; like you're some kind of fragile glass sculpture, like even the slightest hint of turbulence will make you break.

but then again, maybe you've earned it. your recent months definitely haven't been making you any stronger, that's for sure.

you don't really mind it at first; the slight tipsiness you already feel from the shots dennis had ordered for the table and the throbbing bass from the random house song playing on the dance floor doing a good job at drowning out your thoughts. except, that's only until something out on the dance floor catches your attention from the corner of your eye.

paul has been gone all evening, busy celebrating his win probably, and your heart flutters momentarily at the sight of him out there. but when you turn your head towards him to take him in fully, your heart drops instead.

he's with someone. and not just anyone – a girl.

a girl who's got her arms draped around his neck, while his hands hold her hips close to him.

the smiles on their lips can be spotted from miles away, and you can hear the sweet sound of paul's laughter ringing in your ears when you see her lean in to whisper something in his ear.

who is she? what's she doing with her arms around him? why is she-

your thoughts all go silent when paul places a hand underneath her jaw, leans down, and gently presses his lips to hers. it's like the entire world goes silent; like everything else is just a blur of blinking lights, but the spotlight is on the couple on the dance floor. your eyes can't help but follow their lips, their hands caressing each other's bodies...

goosebumps spread across your skin in an instant and an eerie feeling passes through your body. you finally manage to pull your gaze off paul and the girl – who is she, anyway? – and you turn away, making a beeline to the restroom. thankfully, a woman exits through the door just as you arrive, and you're quick to lock yourself in.

once you're inside and pressing your back up against the wall, it's like everything that's been building up in you is let loose. the walls are broken down, and every thought and emotion you have comes crashing down onto you. rivers of tears are flowing down your cheeks before you can react, and you slide down the wall, knees coming up to your chest as your hands come up to cover your face.

there's this strong, heartbreaking feeling spreading through your chest. is it jealousy? is it disappointment? regret?

what you do know is that this aching feeling in your heart is stronger than ever.

is this how paul feels when he sees me with ollie?

it can't be, you think – it just can't. paul can't be in this much pain...

does this mean that you still love him? does this mean you still aren't over him?

you know you should be over him already. you've tried so hard, put so much energy into your relationship with ollie. and yet, you still feel like this.

it's not fair. not to you, and especially not to ollie. he cares about you, respects you, supports you – hell, he's probably out there right now looking for you and wanting to make sure you're okay. he really likes you, and he thinks you like him too. but here you are, crying about another man.

when you're all out of tears, you use your last piece of strength to push yourself up from the floor, standing up and leaning over the sink. wearing non-waterproof is both a blessing and a curse; the trails down your cheeks are straight out of a nightmare, but they're also easy to wash off with a little water and some paper towels. the redness in your eyes isn't as easy to erase, unfortunately, but it'll have to do. you hope to be able to blame it on being tired, or having too much to drink.

you take a deep breath before stepping out of the bathroom and making your way towards the crowd on the dance floor again. the music is just as loud as it was before, and the crowd is just as sweaty and chaotic as a packed summer festival. thankfully, you don't see paul anywhere, but you find ollie quite easily. he's standing by a high table with gabriel and dennis when you approach, eyes lighting up when he spots you.

"there you are!" he exclaims, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "i've been looking for you–" ollie cuts himself off, his eyebrows furrowing a little. his voice lowers a few notches. "what's wrong?"

he noticed. in hindsight, how could he not? he's always been extremely attentive. "it's nothing, i..." you start, looking down at your feet. "i'm just exhausted from the day."

but he isn't stupid. he knows, he understands. even if he doesn't know who or what caused it, it's easy for him to tell that you've been crying. he nods, arm dropping from your shoulders to hold you around your back. "okay," he says, hand giving your waist a soft squeeze. "let's leave."

you look up at him again. the last thing you want is for him to have to cut his night short just for you. "no, i can go alone-"

"i don't mind. we came together, so we're leaving together." and before you can interject again, he's already said his goodbyes to the boys and pulled you along through the crowd.

the cab ride back to the hotel is mostly silent. you play the "exhausted" card, while ollie plays the "naive boyfriend" card. but just because you're both quiet doesn't mean your heads aren't absolutely buzzing. your mind is racing with the memory of paul's lips on that girl, kissing her and holding her like he used to kiss and hold you. but your thoughts are also clouded by the guilt you feel for being this much of a mess, and making yourself so unavailable to ollie.

ollie, on the other hand, isn't exactly rolling his thumbs, either. it takes his everything not to push you into telling him what's wrong; he wishes you would tell him because you want to, not because he's pressuring you. he's so worried about you, but at the same time, he hates the fact that you won't confide in him.

what's he doing wrong? why don't you trust him?

ollie is fast asleep next to you in your hotel bed when you pull out your dark blue journal from the bedside table.

the journal is not a secret from him anymore per se, but you still waited until this moment. the guilt of writing about another man when ollie is the one in bed with you is too big to face with his brown eyes looking up at you, so you'd rather do it like this.

yet another round of the championship, yet another bad weekend. no points, bad results as always – and that's not even the worst part.

paul was with another girl. someone i've never seen before. but he was acting like they were attached by the hip. like they've known each other forever. like i wasn't even there.

he must've known i would see. and yet, he had no issues kissing her like his life depended on it.

is it only this painful to see paul because we haven't spoken in weeks?

or is it going to be like this forever?

and just like in melbourne, there's one more thought that springs to your mind that you just can't find in yourself to write down.

i wish it were me.

yourusername just posted!

yourusername a weekend to forget, focusing on monaco instead. thanks for your support. ❤️ #foreversenna

show all 47 comments

user you did the best you could 💙

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user honestly what is she doing?

→ user bad results over and over even though the car is on fire, what even

→ user awkward

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user are she and ollie even a couple anymore?

→ user just because she doesn't post him, they've broken up? 🤨

→ user no no it's just because i've heard things... 😶

→ user omg pls tell me

→ user she'll delete the comment probably 🤪 but lemme dm you

[kalims]

Oh my goddess, orders are open! Ahem, ANYWAYS— I wonder if I could have an Idia with a fem or gn s/o who is introverted and generally closed-faced, being a sweetheart and even shy with him, pretty please?

• Remember to drink water and take care of yourself correctly, kisses <3

– Mel 🌙🩵✨

dress,

premise.

idia forever thought his cause of death would be the permanent termination of his end game account—which in theory, is now proven wrong at the existence of a brand new thing that just might obliterate his heart.

note. thank you mel <3 you too. i, for one will gladly accept kisses from u and idia (he's downbad here LOL)

idia is having a strangely, familiar sensation.

for example—the fact that his heart is palpitating so fast is making him afraid that he'll get the same sense of doom he frequently gets whenever this happens. like when he's the one that the professor chooses to answer a question up front. just his luck cause it absolutely sucks in real life just as much as his chances of winning that rare character.

but no, there isn't an impending sense of doom that sends him to the edge. no cold sweat forming on the skin of his neck, nor does it protrude from his clammy hands. it's weird, he feels warm rather than the cold it usually accompanies.

he needs to visit a doctor.

he gulps thickly. sending a lightning fast glance at your direction then averting it even faster. oh my god, your hand just brushed against his.. was it intentional? no, no—it mustn't be. you wouldn't waste your time doing that.

but you might even look more tenser than he is.

despite the attempt at flushing down the tightness in his throat, his words still break off into a croaky stammer that just sends his face into a grimace because, did he sound like that? "I'm.. I'm really sorry, you didn't have to do this," he says, looking away with those eyes that just screams a mixture of 'I hate it all.' and 'I'm so scared.'

his eyes in comparison to yours, dull significantly in terms of greatness. cause as rare as it is for your eyes to meet, he'll always marvel at the lush hue your eyes are colored with—and god, your lashes. so pretty, so, so pretty.

he sulks. he doesn't deserve this.

"it's alright," you answer in response, voice quiet but it's the only thing he ever hears despite the myriad of people quite nearly squishing the both of you. the crowd is large, and noisy. so he isn't sure why he's suddenly the greatest listener when you speak. "I'm glad you thought of... inviting me along, I know you're quite passionate about it."

passionate is not a strong enough word, it could be an incorrect word to use even. he supposes it's just a nice feeling to excel—be good at something.

but with how hot his heart is probably burning, maybe passionate really is the right word.

for you that is.

most likely idia's ideal type of player two <3 someone he can keep up with, not too fast and certainly not too slow. but either way, he’s probably having a heart attack at whatever you do. literally just sleeping? his heart… playing with him? please match avatars at once or he will combust. (and yes, he is hinting even though you already match everywhere else. had a house in a game, got married in a game.)

don’t even pull out the fact he buys you the currency to match and you feel bad cause he thinks it’s too cute. you need to stop or else he will buy you more.

speaking of more in game terms, he surprisingly garners a lot of attention online maybe because he’s endgame in every single account he’s made and many people like money so… there are many attempts at ‘rizzing’ him up but in the end he’s provoking them to screenshot it and report them as online daters.

^ says THE online dater.

still reports people if they flirt with you, but compared to his. not only is it a file for online dating he somehow dug up the dirt, the monstrous things they did like… 3 years ago and now they’re gonna get suspended. It’s concerning since he was talking with you animatedly during it and he somehow also exposed them all in 10 minutes.

did the see you again trend in secrecy cause he would rather leap down a hole to hell than let people see it. In any case… if it isn’t obvious he’s the lala, you the okok.

deluded himself, is convinced that he’s actually the nonchalant, ‘cool’ one but all he is, is a literal puddle. is still solid when standing but will be putty in your hands in SECONDS.

idia is secretly really proud of himself whilst being like: how did i even pull them. cause when he looks at your face when you’re talking to other people. he’s actually kind of scared cause it’s a really wondrous thing you never once looked at him like that… (please save his mind too. he’s trying to convince himself that you must be like this, soft person he knows to other people too and not just him because that’s just crazy right haha.. hahahaha…)

the type to tell you to stand back during raids, challenges, boss fights, etc…  that all you need to do is be there, and that he’ll solo it for you and you can claim your rewards even though he gave you the rarest, strongest equipment in respective games which won’t be much use at this point cause he insists he do it for you, and sulks all day if you don’t let him.

stay at home couple >>>

will order every single thing you crave during those times he’s too shy to consider date nights, and you too so it’s like an unspoken thing. he honestly plays better when you’re inside his room, even if it’s just laying on his messy bed scrolling on your phone or munching on something.

it’s just complete, comfortable silence.

except for the time one of you accidentally makes an indirect flirty comment and now the room could be considered a sauna from the literal steam only two people emitted. 

really, really, really, REALLY, likes it when your head is on his shoulder.

“─ean.. no one really asked for it, the nerf was completely unnecessary and─” the words poured out of his mouth, something uncontrollable that he couldn’t stop. there is something about you that just kicks down the layer of anxiety on him. comfortable might be the right word, even if you don’t talk that much (which is surprising cause he ends up being the talkative one and you always assure him that you like to listen.) somehow the thought: am i too annoying? doesn’t really pop up like usual.

in fact, he’s excited to ramble all about it. excited to hear your thoughtful hums, excited to see your attentive eyes on him since the first word he’s said─but it isn’t. because he looks up and you’re blinking haphazardly, thrice in a second and before he panics to shut his mouth he feels the soft slump of your head against the curve of his shoulder.

oh my god, oh my god, oh my g─

if idia had half of his mind he would scream instinctively at the weight he isn’t really accustomed to feel. actually, even if he did have his entire brain connected, and his thoughts coherent he still would. but he bites the inside of his cheek cause despite the chaos that just erupted in his mind which is somehow simultaneously blank, and swirling.

and he remembers midst his confusion that you are,

asleep.

you’re asleep on his shoulder

you’re asleep.

asleep on his shoulder.

on. his. shoulder.

he resorts to the screech in his head.

his shoulder─is so terribly stiff right now to the point where he thinks that sleeping on a hard, wooden surface would be surely more comfortable rather than where your head lays. he makes an effort to relax his muscles, tell himself that it’s only you and that there’s nothing wrong but there is something wrong because it’s you! idia dares to sneak a peek at you and your closed lids only confirm your unconscious state.

and careful with each nudge his movement makes sends to your head. idia can’t resist the hands that creep up his face and bury it, to hope all the embarrassment and whatever he’s feeling right now absorbs it right out of his face because god. he knows he looks like he just ate 10 bowls of lilia’s cooking.

he would scream, he really would. a second thought but you’re on his shoulder!

you, who rarely touches him too much.

on him.

him, who gets too flustered to be touched by you.

so he feels pretty obligated to just suck it up cause he’s enjoying the moment even if you aren’t conscious right now and he sure as hell is going to, for as long as he can.

idia releases a deep sigh, long and wistful because he’s gonna die before you even wake up.

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

viii. 'cause I know that it's delicate

— the one where he is rooting for the anti-hero.

❝𝘉𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘳. 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘴.❞ —𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧����𝘭 𝘊𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴

warnings: did somebody say charles-centered chapter? third person pov, hate, mention of last chapter's panic attack, misogyny (i'm sorry!!! i'm going to let y/n have peace eventually i swear!!!) foul language, cheesy taylor swift references, 2.4k words (+articles as always!).

masterlist ✢ next

Can we stop proving Taylor Swift right for once? When she wrote 'My reputation's never been worse' back in 2017 we thought that would be the end of it. But in more recent times (2017 was AGES ago, guys, come on) the lyrics are still relevant and being applied to actress y/n y/ln's life. Her reputation truly has never been worse.

One thing is being called bad at your job. Which, okay, she is not (I am not biased, I'm just not stupid). y/n is great at being a RomCom actress, she has a stylist that sells her well and has good social media presence. Or had, since that's all gone now.

Even if she was lucky enough to really start making it in Hollywood, we can't ignore the fact that for the past two months y/n has been exposed as a really bad person. AND SHE'S LETTING IT HAPPEN!

While a lot of people in social media have come to her defense in the rejected marriage proposal topic, saying she doesn't have to say yes if she doesn't feel like it, others say it's what she 'owed' to Aidan Kim.

Sources, who are still yet to be revealed, have talked to magazines and celebrity sites about her romance with the guy she only sees as a toy. Does y/n have feelings at all? I guess Charles Leclerc didn't like what she said about him, since there were no pictures of them together at the Spanish Grand Prix. Losing your boyfriend and your reputation in the same week must hurt.

But that's not even the main issue here, why is y/n letting all of this happen right in front of her eyes? Hello, girl, speak up! Does she really have nothing to say in her defense?

People are eating her alive and what she does is post her luxurious breakfast in Monaco, Elix cans and Ferrari Special Edition merch. y/n doesn't care what is being said as long as people keep talking about her. You're going to regret this, girl. That's all I'm saying.

For now, let's say goodbye to the 'Queen of RomComs' reputation (2019-2023).

By Bridget Garcia

Matilde Bassi comes in the defense of y/n y/ln after last week's new discoveries on her breakup, a turmoil that has followed y/n for months now.

"She owes nothing to Aidan Kim. She's a self-made woman, and it's frankly disgusting how people want to give her achievements to some man." The former Broadway star said in an Instagram Live on Sunday June 4th.

After comments asked for her thoughts on the rejected engagement, Bassi didn't hold back: "y/n, just like every woman, has the right to say no. It's a proposal, not a sentence. Good for everyone who is brave enough to know what they don't want in their lives anymore."

Matilde hasn't walked away unscathed after such brave statements, people have started to crucify her on social media. Comments go from how she doesn't deserve to keep playing Juliet to how they're glad she lives in Italy now so they can't come across her on the street, Bassi is suffering similar repercussions to that of her beloved friend.

Let's remember Matilde and y/n were seen together in Europe in May, enjoying a short break in Rome before attenting the Monaco Grand Prix, where y/n went to see alleged boyfriend Charles Leclerc.

What do you think? Is Matilde Bassi right, or should she have kept her comments to herself and held on to whatever amount of love the public still had for her?

FROM CHISMETIFOSO ON TIKTOK: "THE FERRARI BOYS TALK ABOUT Y/N Y/LN" PT.1 & 2

[female voiceover in spanish]: ❝Charles went back to Monaco for the week off before Canada, and stopped to take pictures with fans like he usually does. Someone was brave enough to ask him what was up with y/n, besties, you won't expect what he said.❞

[Charles Leclerc, in english]:❝I am lucky to have a woman like y/n in my life, she's an amazing person and a great friend—[cut off]❞

[female voiceover in spanish]: ❝The Carlos video was sent by a fan that met Carlos in Spain, she also asked about y/n and Charles and Carlos assured she's loved by everyone.❞

[Carlos Sainz, in spanish]: ❝y/n is friends with everyone at Ferrari because we spent a lot of time together, I like her a lot she's fun to be around.❞

[female voiceover in spanish]: ❝Well, what do you think besties? Are our Ferrari boys on a PR stunt or do they really like certain actress that has brought nothing but drama to the table since they met her?❞

June 7th, Maranello, Italy.

Charles was already having a bad day before they told him about the PR meeting. Although it seemed impossible, this season's car got shittier every time and it made his confidence drop a little more every time he got on it and failed to drive properly. Was winning Monaco really just a lucky strike like everyone kept saying?

Spain was definitely a whole weekend to forget, not only for the shitshow that the Grand Prix had been. He couldn't stop thinking about y/n's panic attack and the way she had cried in his arms that same night.

Charles is not oblivious to everything that is happening around her, and how it did seem to get worse every time. When he first met her, he didn't think it would get to this point where people who didn't even know her would inflict torture and mental abuse on her all day every single day. And although Charles has been through a fair amount of online bullying as a professional athlete and public figure, it's not in the same way that what y/n is being subjected to right now.

"Are you listening, Charles?" the Ferrari PR manager asks, tapping her fingers in front of him, a few drops of coffee jump from his red styrofoam cup and into the white surface.

He nods, uninterested. Charles couldn't care less about whatever the Elix guys have to say. He sees the way the worst of them, Stuart Schaffer, looks at y/n. Lascivious, filthy. Charles has thought about punching him more times than he would like to admit.

There was a whole presentation on how Ferrari is being perceived by fans all over the world right now, touching on several points starting with Carlos and him, the last three races and finally, the people that surround Ferrari.

"Elix is experiencing a drop in sales, and we believe this to be due to a certain public figure that has been seen around the Paddock..." the Elix representative is saying, pointing at a graph that ends at the bottom of the page.

"Maybe it's just that your drink is shit," Charles' mouth is quicker than his brain, and he knows he's completely fucked himself over by the gasps that run through the table. Except for Carlos, Carlos has to hide his laugh with a cough. "I don't know."

The only reason he drank it so often, even when cameras were off, was because he didn't know what to do with his hands when talking to y/n.

"Charles!" the PR manager hisses. There have been several times in which he has earned that hawk-like look from her, but it still fazes him.

Yet, he doesn't back down.

"If you were going to talk about y/n and blame her for whatever disaster is happening with your company, you should have at least asked her to come. Talking behind her back is low."

y/n's absence didn't surprise him, she was back in L.A. first thing Monday. And although he's glad she's not here to listen to these bunch of assholes blaming her for their mistakes, he wishes she was just to see her, to make sure she'll be okay.

His name is passed through the table again in hisses and warnings, and finally he lets go.

"This is your fault too, kid," Stuart Schaffer has his hand in a fist on top of the table, red blotches coloring his face and neck.

Charles loathes the word kid coming out of his mouth. Him and y/n are of similar age, and she's not a 'kid' in his eyes.

"If you weren't fucking that bitch while she had a boyfriend, this wouldn't be happening."

His ears are ringing and he knows it's his face now that's tinted red.

"Get out, please Charles," the manager intervenes before another word can come out of his mouth, or worse, before he reaches Stuart Schaffer with his hands. "Now."

Charles' veins feel on fire as he gets up from his seat and walks out of the conference room. Biting the tip of his tongue so as not to curse Stuart in every single language he knows.

Carlos makes eye contact with him as Charles closes the see-through door and shakes his head. 'They're going to give you so much shit,' his eyes say. And he's right.

The meeting takes an hour more and he's in one of the offices, buzzed with caffeine and bored out of his mind. He has, regretfully, scrolled down the hell that is Twitter. He's even more pissed off than before, and the caffeine is making him desperate to get out of his seat.

“How bad is it?” Charles asks when Carlos crosses the door.

“A little bad,” Carlos isn’t stressed, he even smiles. “For you mostly. But looking at the bright side, no more Elix.”

No more Elix also means no more money from them. Which won’t make a difference, he thinks.

“Thank God,” Charles lets his head fall down the back of the couch. His nape hurts.

“It also means no more y/n,” Carlos’ tone has changed and he’s looking at Charles with that puzzled look that means he wants Charles to expand on his thoughts.

“She can still come if she wants to,” Charles replies, still feigning tranquility. “I’ll give her a pass.”

And he really hopes y/n wants to. Because all he's done lately every time he goes back to the Ferrari Suite during race weekends is look for her around the room, hoping that she'll be looking at him already. It’s like pieces fall into place when it does. He knows he'll miss her if she's not there anymore.

"Yeah, me too," Carlos plops down on the couch next to him, putting his hands behind his neck. "Do you think she's okay?"

Charles shrugs, an impassive gesture that doesn't reflect the turmoil inside his brain and heart. He is worried about her, and has been for a while. "I'm sure she is, she's back in Los Angeles." They have texted often since he left right after the Grand Prix, but it isn't the same as hearing her voice tell him it's alright.

Carlos stares at him for a few seconds more, thinking his next words through. It's not like he doesn't notice the way Charles looks at y/n every time they're in the same room, he also isn't ignorant to the get-together they shared in Monaco—the one Charles shared zero details about—or what happened in Spain when neither made it to dinner.

But he wonders if Charles is aware of how hard he is falling and what kind of a mess he's getting into.

Carlos likes y/n too, although it took them some time to become acquainted. y/n knows how to throw the exact words at him to tease him, she's brilliant, and when people aren't putting her down, her good mood is contagious. She's like sunshine coming through the curtains on a warm morning.

Yet, it's obvious he'll feel more protective over Charles. He knows it's a mistake to spend so much time on social media, not only looking at what people say about himself, but about Charles and y/n, the cruel lies and twisted truths. He has thought about asking Charles whether he's really aware of the way things look to the outsiders, or how they're tearing him down too.

"What is it?" Charles asks, frowning.

Carlos shakes his head. It's not his place to say anything about his infatuation, if that's what this is. "Why don't you give her a call?"

"Yes, I might." Charles nods absently, looking at his lock screen. Pierre has sent him another link to more news about how he's a homewrecker. Pierre calls him 'loverboy' and makes fun of every new article that comes out about y/n and him. Charles hasn't found it entertaining once.

"Charles," the PR manager doesn't have to raise her voice in the silence of the room. "Come here, right now. Please."

"Told you," Carlos mutters, crossing his legs.

Charles groans and gets up. A reprimand isn't the end of the world when his car gets progressively shittier and luck left him a while ago.

And when he's not sure of when he'll see y/n again.

Charles knows he doesn't need to 'fight' in the name of y/n, or that she even would like him to. She warned him weeks ago that he shouldn't get into the nightmare that this situation is. But he'll be damned if he's going to continue letting people put her down at his expense.

y/n is not a damsel in distress, he knows. And standing up for her doesn't make him a knight in shining armor. It makes him a decent human being and a good friend.

Charles thinks really hard about this, way often. Is it okay that his friend makes his heartbeat quicken every time they're together? He feels like a teenager again, with butterflies flying around his stomach when he thinks about her. Not to mention the fact that he's tried to flirt with her several times, to no avail.

There are many things in the world that Charles wishes he could change. His luck, to begin with. But he really wishes things were different when it comes to y/n. He wants her to have peace, he wishes she'd never had to deal with panic attacks or anxiety induced by hate. He wishes they'd met in another time, when things weren't so fragile and the world could stay away from them, and wherever he knows he wants things with her to go.

And he wishes he knew if he's brave enough to deal with all of it.

"Hello?"

The wave of emotion hits him from head to toe and it takes him a moment to catch his breath. He's worse than a teenager, he knows. Charles has never acted this way before, and it makes him vulnerable in a way he doesn't completely dislike, but isn't comfortable with either.

"Hello y/n," he says, after clearing his throat. "I was um– I was just thinking about you."

There is a pause on the other side of the line and Charles looks at the clock on his nightstand. He did the math to figure out the timezones three times, yet he does it again.

"Hi Charles," her voice comes after a sigh of relief, "Were you?"

"Uh– yeah, I– I just wanted to know how you're doing."

Another prolonged silence and Charles adds: "Is that okay?"

y/n chuckles, "Of course it's okay."

"So, how are you?" Charles continues, anxiously pacing around the room. He wants to ask the right questions. "How's L.A.?" maybe that's not one of them.

"Well, it's Lalaland, what can you expect?" there is movement in the background and then a door shuts. "How's Maranello?"

"Well..." Charles isn't sure if Elix has called her already and he doesn't want to be the one to break the news. "The usual. Praying for improvement every week."

"That's something we have in common," y/n's chuckle comes without humor this time. "But I'm going back to New York in a few days, so that's something to look forward to."

Charles smiles. "Do you need any help with moving?"

"Are you flying from Italy to help me move back to New York?" y/n laughs and her genuineness is back.

"I could, if you needed me to."

He has never felt more awkward in his life, or giddier.

"Thank you, Charles. But I have two suitcases with me, I can handle it like a big girl."

It's Charles' turn to laugh, he has stopped pacing. “Just let me know if you need me, y/n.”

“I think I will.” y/n says, and after some consideration: “Can you stay with me on the phone? Just for a little while.”

And Charles is embarrassingly willing to drop everything and stay on the phone for as long as she needs to.

“Yes, sure,” he replies instead, “What do you want to talk about?”

And they talk about everything and nothing. Silly commercials, pet-peeves about airports, favorite colors and long forgotten songs. It takes more than a little while, but neither care about how much time has passed.

It’s not mental gymnastics realizing he likes her. Likes her, likes her. He feels like he’s inside one of her RomComs; already pining for her. What would the name be? Something cheesy and catchy, like 'Racing Hearts'. He likes it. And hates it, too.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” She interrupts her story about the nightmare that Paris was when filming Parisian Valentine, not minding cutting her story short.

Regret comes immediately because he doesn’t know how to fill the silence now, not with the words he wants to say.

That he knows how delicate things are right now. That he likes her for who she has shown him to be and how he is impatient to know even more about her. But he knows he’s probably going to scare her away if those silly words actually come out of his mouth.

“I like talking to you,” Charles says instead. The caffeine hasn't left his system, but he knows the new buzz comes from something else.

“But?” Y/n prompts, he can hear the change in her tone.

“No buts. I like it, I like you.”

“I like you too, Charles.” She says softly, and he pictures the small smile on her face. The one she saves for the times she's one hundred percent comfortable, like when they were at the lake in Monaco.

“And I want you to be okay,”

y/n lets out a shaky breath that makes the microphone crackle. “We are okay, though, aren’t we?” She’s thinking about the tabloids again.

“We are okay. We’ve been on the phone for two hours,” he laughs, and, regretfully, lets out a yawn before he can help it.

“Get some rest, Charlie,” y/n lowers her voice too. “Thank you for staying with me.”

The endearment, although common when people try to be cute to him, sends another wave of giddiness through his body.

"Anytime," he doesn't fight her goodbye because it's a lost cause, especially after he let on his tiredness. "I mean it."

"Thank you," she repeats, "You're a good friend."

Charles smiles, that's enough for now, more than enough for now.

"See you soon, y/n." Charles assures, a smile on his face.

"Goodnight Charlie."

─── team principal radio: ❝thank you for reading! are we loving charles or not? thank you to everyone who lets me know their thoughts and interpretations of Delicate, it's incredibly motivating for me to keep writing and it makes me super happy! if you're a ghost reader, i also appreciate you, but don't be shy to interact♡❞

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want to join the paddock club? click here!

[pomeloandtv]

So how does it feel to sit in your new car?

It's cute, but ... I miss my old car, it was bigger, and much more powerful that this ....

But you crashed that car, if you want a car like that again you have to convince people you are a good enough driver for it

Wait .... it's an automatic?

Yes?

There is no gearstick or clutch, are there manual electronic gears?

No, no manual electronic gears, it's an automatic. do you remember how you did your new test in a rented automatic?

Yes

And you found that weird at the time?

Yes, but you said I couldn't ask about it

Well, see now your new license is specifically for automatics only, you can no longer drive stick

But the crash wasn't even my fault! You know that! You know I am a good driver, I've never caused any damage to any car ever!

Too bad. We both agreed that the old you, the strong, competent and capable you, had to go. That we needed a new you, one that emanated an aura of weak, ditsy helplessness. Did we not?

[small voice] ... um ... yes ... but ... I love driving ...

I know, but you've also found so much other things you love over the last few years, haven't you?

That's true

You are swapping some things you used to love for other new things you love. Just be glad I didn't convince the judge to ban you permanently

Oh my god, would you have?

Just imagine the loss of independence, needing other people to drive you around, always having to be extra nice to your friends because you would need them more than they need you, letting them decide where to go, and just being grateful that they are willing to take you, sitting around at home waiting for me to get back because you need me to take you somewhere ...

[eyes closed] ... oh god ... stop ... [eyes open] I'll be good! I love that it is an automatic!

Really?

Yes REEEAAAALLLY! Besides for the last year these heels made working with ALL THOSE ANNOYING PEDALS so difficult.

Great that you don't take them off for driving like I forbade. You are such a good girl

Thank you. .... um ....

Yes?

But, this means ... um ...

Yes?

I'm flying to visit my parents next week. Whenever I go back, I use their car, I borrow it if I need to, and I usually need to a lot ... but they have manual ... so ...

So you won't be doing that anymore, you'll have to ask them to drive you around if you need it. Wonderful, maybe you'll discover you like being driven around, maybe the feeling of sheepishly asking them for a lift will grow on you, feeling like you are less, maybe you will come back and beg me to have your license cancelled ...

No!

Ok, just joking, what were you saying

But what will I tell them, they know I drive manual?

Tell them you always hated stick, you found it confusing and stressful

But I know how to drive stick, its easy?

Well you certainly won't be telling anybody that anymore, make sure to tell them you're happier knowing you don't have to worry about manual gear shifting anymore

But my father thought me how to drive, he knows I love stick!

"Dick" sugarbutt, you love dick

Hee hee, I love dick, I do!

Besides, your parents are probably going to have a LOT more difficult questions for you about getting another boob job without telling them, even though they made you PROMISE you would never do major cosmetic surgery again without at the very least telling them

[downcast, small voice] ... ... oh yeah ... ... [even smaller voice] but you didn't let me tell them ...

Now, now dollface, we both know I can't make you do anything unless there is a part of you that wants it, right?

[small voice] ... yes ...

I didn't hear that?

yes ... [small voice] ... i know ...

Say the line

um ... your role isn't to make me do things I don't want to do ... your role is to make me do things I want to do but am too afraid to ...

OK, now don't worry, it's going to be awkward for you next week, but it will work out in the long run

[small voice] ... yes ...

I can't wait to hear about it. Anyway my advise is in future if your parents or anyone else want you to promise something again, you should outright and explicitly refuse if you aren't 100% sure it is something you can keep

[small voice] ... yes ... [normal voice] can I please tell them about my upcoming nose job?

We've been over this. Absolutely not. There is nothing wrong with your nose, its a good cute nose, it matches your adorable face perfectly, you will not be able to make them accept that

But ... then ... why am I getting it!

We've been over this too, and I understand the next time you see them, the time after this time, it will be very awkward for you, but we both agreed your face should look faker

[small voice] ... you agreed ...

Really? Say the word now and we will cancel the procedure

...

Well? I will cancel it right now, it's not a problem, it'll be easy

No! I want it! Please! I'll be good!

Why?

Because I think I'll look even cuter and faker with a paired down button nose.

Really?

Yes! I want to be plastic! Please, I really do! I want a fake bimbo nose! I'll be good! Please!

Ok, now its fun when we battle like this, but that was too far, and you know it

I know, I'm sorry, I'll be good. And I won't tell my parents about my nose job and I know I'll love it and I can't wait. I promise!

Good girl

Yes :)

And remember, you hate stick, you love dick

Hee hee, I hate stick, I love dick

And while I can't speak for everyone, in general dick loves those stupid looking melons you've had nailed to your chest

Hee hee, yeah I know! everyone's so nice, the guys in the gym are always looking. Dick loves these tits! And though I hate stick, I really love dick :D

Good girl, now lets take those honkers for a spin

Hee hee! yay! Wait, give me your empty bottle, I'll put them in the bin over there

Hmmm, no.

No?

Take my empty bottle and your empty bottle and throw them on the back seat or in one of the floorwells

What? I would never!

I've decided it would please me greatly if you are now one of those people with a messy car

No! But my car is always spotless. So is yours! You'd hate it too!

That's right, I would hate it. But I would find it hilarious if you were known as someone with a very messy car. I want your friends to argue behind your back about who has to go with you because no one wants to travel in the messy car. I want them to beg you to clean your car, but you will always refuse to care about the problem

I will! I will care!

Yes, I'm very pleased with this idea, your previous car was the old you and the spotlessness of the interior betrayed your old competence and diligence and adherence to what is expected of you. Your new car is the car of a very different woman. I'll bet you even grow to enjoy it

No! I'll hate it!

Here, that plastic bottle in your hand, face forward, don't look, and toss it behind you over your shoulder. There now didn't that feel fun?

No!

Ok, take my bottle, before you throw it, where would you like it to land? No objections, pick a place.

uhhh, behind the back seat on top of the boot.

Mmmm, not much to aim for even if you were looking, difficult throw, try it

.... Ohhhh, no, I thought ... almost

Wasn't that fun?

This isn't fair!

Ha ha ha

The first two of many. From now on I forbid you to take used, finished items from this car without my explicit permission. We'll see how bad it gets but maybe after 6 months I'll pay to have your car cleaned.

[laughing] No! I can't believe this is happening!

OK enough, pre-drive checks?

Yes, the mirrors are good actually!

No, I mean make-up

Hee hee, yes sir

Maybe I'll get you a custom car sun visor on your side, one that's all mirror, including a small section that does that real up close magnification.

Ha, you wouldn't?

Yes, actually I should get one for your side of my car too

Ha! No!

Ok, serious question, how often do you check your make-up before and after driving?

Sometimes before, sometimes after, some drives both, some drives neither.

Ok, from now on, unless you are blocking someone, you have to check before and after, and you also have to do a touch up.

Oh my God? Ok, but I think I look good ... but ...

... you look fantastic ...

... BUT! But if I MUST [side eye] then I will do my lipstick again

Good girl

[small voice] yes

Also buy an extra supply of whatever make-up utilities you would normally have, wipes, bases, I don't know, whatever your favorites are and keep a stash in your glove box

Hmmm, can I have the money?

Yes. And whenever I see the inside of that glove box it shouldn't be well-ordered. it should be a mess of random things at random angles all over the place. When you drive around a corner or over a bump I want to be able to hear them clattering

Hee hee Stop! Enough for today!

I'm really looking forward to there being discarded make-up paraphenalia in all the floorwells

No!

Admit it, you're going to love people seeing the inside of your car, and maybe they'll be too polite to say anything, but they'll be thinking, you live like this?

Oh God! Too much!

That was a lot for one day, but it is a new car day, always a big day.

True

Ok dummy, let's go

Yay! Hee, hee ... yay! dummy!

[cozage]

Hello! I'm always tempted to go anon because for some reason, I expect judgment from people who are here for the same reason I am. It's very silly. But anyway. May I please have Law and Luffy in an Ace-Marineford situation (captured by the marines and set for public execution) with their s/o being the Luffy, head of the pack coming to save them. But like they survive! Maybe their s/o loses a limb or an eye or is badly hurt or something, but they survive and are together at the end. I'm here for angst, not more Marineford related trauma!

Thank you for your time.

A/N: Im so glad you don't turn anon! And I'm so glad you're here :) Ohhhkay! I imagine this takes place in Dressrosa. You get captured during the escape, and the Strawhats + Law rush to come to get you in Marineford. 

P.S. I realized you wanted Luffy and Law separately about 2/3rds through writing this story IM SO SORRY. 

Characters: gn reader x Strawhats & Law

Cw: reader peril, fighting, reader getting injured, Marineford spoilers

Total word count: 2k

How to Save a Life

Looking down at Marineford, Luffy found it all extremely foreign. He remembered the platform where you kneeled to the world. But everything else was unfamiliar. 

Of course, they had to rebuild a lot of it after Ace’s execution. Luffy remembered that much. The devastation that had been caused by both sides had been immense. But they had chosen to rebuild regardless. And now Luffy was back here again. For you. 

His entire command of 4,000 individuals had come along with him, as well as Law. But Luffy refused to allow the execution to drag on longer than it needed to. The world government knew how much of a threat he was now. And if he didn’t get to you quickly, they would kill you in a heartbeat. 

They had two Vice Admirals ready to perform the execution. Luffy’s conqueror haki wouldn’t impact them the way it had the last time. His best bet would be to get up close to you and get out. 

Everyone was frozen, waiting for the first person to make the move. 

“Please leave, Luffy!” you screamed, breaking the eerie silence that had begun the moment his ship rose from the sea. “It’s a tr-”

Akainu slammed his foot into your back, shoving you down into the ground to keep you quiet, and Luffy’s rage ignited. There was no way in hell that Luffy would allow Akainu to kill two people he loved. 

“Torao-”

As he spoke to get the other captain’s attention, a blue hue appeared around him. It didn’t encapsulate the entirety of Marineford, but it would get him closer to you. Close enough. 

“Ready!” Akainu commanded, and the two Vice Admirals raised their swords. 

Luffy gritted his teeth, praying he would get there in time. He felt his surroundings change, and suddenly he was in the middle of the air. His hand slung back and shot forward. But even if he could take out one of the executioners, there was still another sword that would end your life. You closed your eyes and braced yourself for the end. All you could do now is hope that Luffy and the others would make it out alive. 

A fist met your face, and you could feel your entire body blow backwards from the impact of the punch. You could hear the sound of two swords smack against the wooden platform, and you cracked an eye open to see what was happening. 

Luffy was soaring through the air, diving headfirst to you. He had punched you out of the way of the execution. It was such an idiotic but obvious answer, and of course Luffy thought of it.

He screamed your name, reaching out towards you. You could see the Marines tense, looking to Akainu for direction, but you didn’t care. The only person you cared about now was Luffy. 

“Luffy, wait!” you screamed, desperate to get him to stop. You expected that Akainu anticipated some kind of complication. To him, you were just bait for a bigger fish. “It’s a trap!”

“I’m coming for you!” Luffy yelled back. “Don’t stop fighting!” 

You knew he wouldn’t stop. You knew he didn't care if it was a trap. He had a panicked look in his eyes, only focused on you. So you listened to your captain. 

As Akainu approached you, his hand began flowing with magma. He was expecting you to cower, to be frozen in fear as Luffy had been the last time he was here. And when Akainu went in for the kill, Luffy would sacrifice himself to save you, just as Ace had last time. 

But you refused to let that happen. Luffy wouldn’t be dying for you. He wouldn’t be dying anytime soon. Not before he became king of the pirates. 

You scrambled away from Akainu as best you could, giving Luffy as much time as possible to come up with some kind of plan. Your shackles didn’t give you much movement on the platform, but it was enough to keep yourself away from him. 

You saw the outline of one of Luffy’s Elephant Gun attacks, and you braced yourself for another punch. The wooden platform splintered under you, and you felt rubber arms wrap around you, pulling you to him. 

“Watch the sea prism!” you cried out, but suddenly Zoro was next to you. He looked startled, as if he wasn’t expecting to be there, but he quickly examined the situation and drew his blades. He sliced your shackles off and grabbed your arm, trying to stop his forward momentum. You all tumbled to the ground, Luffy turning into a balloon at the last second to cushion your fall. 

“Stupid cannons,” Zoro mumbled, holding his swords out while looking at the Vice Admirals. Luffy stood next to him, gearing himself up for battle. Zoro glanced over at you and gritted his teeth in irritation. “Get back to the ship!”

You looked at the two of them, protecting you. “Luffy-” 

“Just get inside Torao’s room,” Luffy reasoned. For once in his life, he actually made sense. “Then we’ll join you.”

You nodded and turned on your heels to run towards the blue hue in the distance. You didn’t want to leave them, but you were the Navy’s primary target, and you knew everyone would be coming to attack you. You had to remind yourself this was a rescue mission, and if you died, then everything they did would be for nothing. 

You ran, fighting off Marines as you ran past them. You picked up a sword from a fallen soldier as defense, thankful for all of the times Zoro made you train with him. Marines were surrounding you slowly though, and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer like this. 

You had made a mistake. You knew that, and as much as you wanted to correct it, it was too late. Pain ripped through your abdomen, and you screamed out. A sword had found its way into your flesh, and you could see blood beginning to blossom from the wound area, spreading over your clothes. 

You wanted to collapse from the pain. To curl up and die, to give in to the will of the World Government. But you had to find a way to survive. You couldn’t die now, so close to freedom. Luffy would never forgive you. You couldn’t leave him alone. So you stabbed at the Marines, sweeping them to the side and continued on your journey. 

“Y/N!” Luffy’s voice came from behind you, screaming out in desperation. You were too tired to turn around and look at him, but you could hear the slap of his sandals as he approached you. It was all you could do to keep upright.

His arms wrapped around you, helping support you. The second you felt him, you leaned heavily into him, the adrenaline wearing off now that you knew you were safe. You still had at least 500 yards to go, but you knew Luffy wouldn’t let anything happen to you now. Your vision began to blur, and you suddenly felt very cold and very tired. 

“Don’t give up yet,” Luffy yelled, shaking you awake. “You have to keep moving.”

Luffy’s voice held a certain urgency that willed you back into the moment. You blinked away the sleep from your eyes and kept moving closer to the blue hue of safety. It was closing in fast, 400 yards, then 300, then 200. 

“Zoro?” You paused to look around for the mossy haired swordsman, but Luffy kept propelling you forward. 

“He’s holding off the admirals,” Luffy said, adjusting his grip around you. 

Luffy could feel you tense at that, but he kept moving. He was practically dragging you now from walking so fast. It was all your legs could do to not give out, but neither of you could worry about Zoro now. He was capable enough to hold his own against any enemies you faced, this was no different. 

You practically flung yourself into the blue sphere, and instantly felt weightless in the air, before dropping onto the deck of a ship. You groaned and rolled over, face to face with a green haired man that wasn’t Zoro. 

You yelped out in surprise, trying to scramble backwards away from the stranger. 

“Oh man, you look like you’re in rough shape!” the man said. “Nothing you haven’t been through before though, right?” 

You gave him a confused and irritated look, but he turned his attention from you and looked out. “A doctor! Y/N needs a doctor!”

“I’m a doctor, idiot!” You heard Law’s voice in the distance and felt calmer. At least you were amongst friends, even if you weren’t sure who they were.

“You can’t leave Mister Luffy and-” The green haired man spoke again.

“I’m not!” Law shot back. His voice was still strained, but it was softer when he addressed you. “Can you hold on a few minutes?”

You nodded, pressing your hand against your stomach wound. You needed to slow down the bleeding as much as possible. Your vision was hazy and you felt cold, but you forced your eyes to stay open. 

A few seconds later, Luffy and Zoro appeared next to you where some barrels were. Luffy ran to you, covering you in kisses. 

“Luffy,” you said, struggling to hang on to consciousness. “Tell Law I’m type F.”

“Type F?” he asked, looking at you with concern, but you had already given into the darkness. 

---

When your eyes fluttered open, you laid in a bed with bright lights above you. There was a mechanical whirring and steady beeps of machines, letting you know you were alive. 

“You were lucky,” Law said, looking down at you. “Incredibly lucky. If that blade had hit one more inch to the left and you wouldn’t be here now.”

You let out a shaky breath, scared of what could have been. “Thank you, Law,” you said.

He raised an eyebrow. “For what?” 

“Saving me?” you laughed, which in turn made you wince in pain.

“I didn’t save you,” Law said. “There wasn’t much I could do besides close up the wound.” His eyes darted to the bed next to you. “What you needed was a blood transfusion, which he helped with.”

You turned your head slightly to find Luffy sleeping in the bed next to you. He had a bandage wrapped around his arm, but other than that he looked relatively fine. 

“Luffy?” you asked, and Law nodded. 

At the mention of his name, Luffy stirred, mumbling a strew of syllables mixed between your name and different kinds of meat. After a moment, his eyes flicked wide open, and he bolted upright, looking around frantically. 

“Did we do it?” he asked, looking at Law. 

Law’s eyes darted over to you, and finally Luffy turned, his eyes meeting yours. A wide grin appeared across his face, and laughter bubbled up inside of him. 

“You’re okay!” he cried. Luffy jumped out of his bed and into yours, wrapping you tight in a hug.

You ignored the pain of your wound for the moment, thankful to be in his embrace again. 

“Get off!” Law scolded his fellow captain. “If that wound opens up again we’re all back where we started!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Luffy said, still giddy with the fact you were back in his arms. He loosened his grip, but didn’t let you go completely. 

You leaned in to him, trying your best not to cry. “Thank you, captain. Thank you for saving me. Twice.”

“I’ll always come back for you,” Luffy murmured in your ear, giving you a light squeeze. “No matter what. You’re stuck with me now, and I won’t let anything happen to you. That’s a promise.”

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! First off I'd like to say I've learned a lot from this blog and I appreciate what you all do.

I was wondering what your opinion/opinions are on non-human characters who are intellectual disabled. I've been reading through your intellectual disability posts that you already have as well as doing research on some specific causes. Since they often seem to have a genetic component I imagine it would work differently for a species that doesn't reproduce in the same way humans do? What I'm specifically wondering about is if you would prefer a parallel to actual real life causes of intellectual disability or name a condition that already exists? Or something else?

Hi, I'm glad you enjoy the blog !

In my opinion, both would be fine. If you have (example) an anthro cat who's intellectually disabled, I don't think it there would be much difference between “strongly implying that they have feline Down syndrome via them being ID and having some DS-coded facial features” and “openly stating they have Down syndrome”, even though cats can't have it by definition.

You can also make the cause up if you're talking about fantasy/alien/non-existent species - maybe your character's disability could be caused by partial monosomy 98 because they happen to have way more chromosomes than humans do. In this case, you could pull some inspiration from the human counterparts - Angelman syndrome, Distal 18q-, etc.

Other genetic conditions like Rett syndrome, or Tuberous sclerosis, or all the X-linked causes could also probably be either named or just strongly alluded to. Unless the species has some very different anatomy, they would probably present the same/very similarly to how they do in humans. But if they reproduce in vaguely the same way as humans (not asexually, and involving genes and chromosomes and all that) then I don't think they would be “impossible” to exist. If they do reproduce that differently, then;

There's of course a lot of non-genetic causes as well - brain damage, being born premature, micro- and macrocephaly (unusually small and big head respectively), holoprosencephaly, fetal alcohol spectrum disorders, TORCH infections, and a lot more that you could make them have if you want to be more scientifically accurate.

It's also important to remember that a lot of cases of ID don't have an explanation behind them, i.e., no one knows why the person has it. Genetic causes are actually a large minority (like 25%, with majority of that being Down syndrome). Most people who's ID cause is unknown will be on the milder end (kinda by default because most ID people have it mild but still) and usually not have other disabilities, but there's no hard rules. So if you want to not worry about researching causes that would make sense for a bug or a fish, you can say that they were just born like that with no deeper explanation and it would make sense.

What I'd worry about more is to not have the only intellectually disabled character be of an animal/fantasy race that's associated with being mindless and/or child-like. But if all the characters are the same species anyway then it doesn't really apply.

Regardless of what cause (or lack of it) you choose, try to make sure you know what severity their ID is, what symptoms specifically they experience, what can or can't they do, even if the specific diagnosis doesn't ever name-drop in the story. Just be aware that a lot of these conditions have very significant overlap and readers will come up with different conclusions based on their knowledge - someone will assume the character has Down syndrome or autism because these are the only conditions comorbid with ID that they know, someone else will presume 1p36 Deletion syndrome because they have a family member with it - even if you're quite specific about the symptoms. So if you want to represent a specific condition it would be good to drop the actual name, but it's up to you.

I hope I understood the question properly, feel free to send any additional asks/clarifications if I missed the point

mod Sasza

[relevant-wikipedia-articles]

merry christmas!!!!!

This may seem weird, but I do this all of the time and I'm so glad I'm not the only one. I'm not sure if this is your first time or not, so I'm going to explain your situation just in case, as well as how I tend to go about dealing with it

It's a fairly uncommon issue, so hopefully others who see this post will learn how to identify when this happens and how to support people in this situation while they work through it

Anyways, there's no easy way to put this so I'm just going to say it outright: you've accidentally time travelled. I recommend taking at least a few seconds to sit with that thought

Now, just trust me on this, you'll want to go back to your original time. You may think it'll be fun to be in the past/future, but time is no joke. It takes A Lot of energy to stay outside of your time, and there's so many other downsides to not being in the right time that you'll just want to trust me when I tell you that you'll want to go back to your own time. You'll see what I mean as you try to sort all of this out

With that out of the way, you're probably thinking something along the lines of "how on earth did I time travel at all, let alone without even realising it‽", and, unfortunately, there's no simple answer to that

Every so often, there'll be something that you do that makes you travel through time. It can be either forwards or backwards, but it'll always be in the same direction each "season". The amount that you travel can vary though. For me, it's usually anywhere from a few minutes to a couple of days. To get back to your own time, you're going to have to identify this action, and, whenever you do it, simply do it again but swap when you inhale and exhale. It sounds silly, but it's the best way I've found to fix it. Idk why it works, but if there's a better way to go about fixing this then I don't know about it

Actually fixing it is the easy part. The hard part is figuring out what you're doing that causes you to time travel, since it can pretty much be anything. I do this by keeping a journal of what I do each day, as well as a list of days that I notice I've travelled farther away from my own time. Then I'll compare the two every so often and work my way towards narrowing down the exact action. This can sometimes take a Very Long Time, so the best advice I can give you is to just take life one day at a time

Now, you'll notice I didn't tell you *how* to tell when you've gotten farther from your own time, and that's because it's yet another tricky thing to pin down. Usually, I'll be able to tell from inconsistencies between my memory and my journal. Maybe I don't remember answering this ask, but I wrote in my journal that I did. Maybe Alice is complaining I never texted her back, even though I literally have screenshots of me texting her back in my journal (said screenshots have since irrecoverably corrupted). *Maybe* my phone's battery percentage doesn't line up with how quickly my phone charges and the time my journal says I plugged in my phone

Yeah. Like I said, this is the hardest part. Once you get out of "action id hell" though, getting back to your own time is a fairly straightforward process (though you will feel like an idiot while doing it): you just gotta alternate doing that action, followed by doing that action with the inhaling and exhaling swapped. I think doing the action triggers the time shift or whatever, and then doing it again with the breaths swapped reverses the direction, but, again, I have No Clue how or why this works

Some other things to note:

While you're going back to your own time, don't worry about the people from the time you're leaving. There's an uncountably infinite number of yous all going through the same process right now, and the you from the time you're leaving will replace you when it's all over

You probably won't get the action right on your first try. In fact, it'll probably take a few attempts to get it right. Just remember to be patient and take things one day at a time

Don't worry too much about being out of the loop when you get back to your own time. In a few days, the memories from the you that made it to your time will come back to you and it'll be like it never happened

Now, if this has never happened to you, and you want to know how you can help those going through this, my biggest piece of advice is to just be patient. You can offer your own theories as to what the action they're looking for is, but be respectful if they aren't comfortable talking about it. For some people, it can be a very personal thing

One thing you can do is offer to help them with everyday tasks. Like I said, being outside of your own time takes A Lot of extra energy, so taking some of their work upon yourself is a great way to help them through this. Don't overwork yourself though. They'll find consistency much more comforting than sudden bursts of help (also, overworking yourself is generally a bad idea)

Above all though, just be patient. It's going to take a while for them to sort this out, and I'm sure they're just as annoyed at it all as you are

[theresattrpgforthat]

hello! i was wondering if theres any ttrpgs set in/inspired by Terry Pratchett's Discworld? thanks :)

THEME: Discworld

I love the Discworld books and I'm very glad you asked this question. I have three resources for you!

A One In A Million Chance At Adventure, by Jocher Symbolic Systems.

This is a game where you play the roles of, often unwilling, sometimes zealous, pawns in the cosmic octarine coloured narrative. Your character is not necessarily a "hero" per se, instead one could possibly see it as being important to the story. Characters like yourself do have a knack for not dying as often as a common mortal (or undead if that has been your unfortune).

With this follows that you'll naturally have a higher chance of actually, possibly, doing some heroic deeds, just by sheer mathematical logic. Unless, of course, you are the type of adventurer who'd prefer a cup of hot tea and soft slippers and a reliable day job.

That does severely reduce the odds of let's say beheading a mythical beast of ill repute or befriending the immodest wood nymphs of Howondaland*.

*if your day job happens to be for example a tax collector this is not true, this and similar careers have shown to increase the risk of leaving the disc rather early.  ** only rumoured, no one who has gone looking for them has ever returned.

This is a free, fan-made d10-based game written in the style of Terry Pratchett’s Discworld novels, footnotes and all. The characters you build are expected to be flawed in some way - they have vices that can cause problems for them and plenty of skills (or spells) to help them get out of trouble.

A One in A Million Chance At Adventure has plenty of supplements to support the game, including an introductory adventure: The Murder of Dominick Kolchak, and a character supplement: The A-M Professions Character Build Guides.

Discworld Roleplaying Game, by Steve Jackson Games.

There's a lot of unusual stuff on the Disc, but don't worry about getting lost – game author Phil Masters has crafted a roadmap to Pratchett-inspired storytelling.

Visit settings like the most dubious city in the multiverse, Ankh-Morpork. Intervene in the cultural interactions of trolls and dwarves (but watch out for flying axes). Campaign for goblin rights. Flee from an angry Swamp Dragon (two feet of mindless fury and high-explosive digestion). Even find out why the second-greatest lover on the Disc needs a stepladder.

And remember, the world is round. And also flat.

This is the official roleplaying game published by Steve Jackson Games, the creators of Munchkin and GURPS - which means that this game also uses the GURPS system. Characters are pretty in-depth and require some time to put together - and that means the the core rulebook is a pretty hefty read. If you like big games with heavy modularity and a lot to chew on, maybe this game is for you!

If you want to try the game out and need a little help, there’s a GURPS Character sheet app available to help you put characters together, and Chris Normand is an avid enthusiast with many videos providing advice on how to get a grip on the system.

The Kleptomancer’s Crypt, by Max Kāmmerer.

The Kleptomancer’s Crypt is an adventure for Troika!, but is easily adapted to other systems. It mostly consists of tables to help you generate a variable adventure. Improvisation and interpretation by the GM required. 

A client hired you to break into the Kleptomancer’s Crypt and so you did. Now you need to get out of the place. The Kleptomancer is a government official tasked with redistributing the wealth by stealing from the rich and keeping what they stole for themselves. Okay, that last part isn’t in the official job description. The Crypt is filled with all kinds of strange things and rooms and people, really. You might for example encounter pipe smoking sloths, boardgame playing plants, ever expanding spheres or the Kleptomancer’s apprentice. The place is dangerous, so you prepared by cutting a deal with death, preventing you from dying while you are in the Crypt.

To be clear, this is not a full game. It is simply an adventure for one.

The eclectic tone of Troika fits Discworld so well that I’m not at all surprised that there is an adventure made for it. If you have experience with Troika, or even with other OSR games, you might want to check this one out.

[gaasuba]

Disapproval

please take care of yourself and don't read if you aren't in the headspace to handle a story about abusive parents/cops

AO3 Link

"I'm..." Miles hesitates. He hates how he seems to keep finding himself here, freaking out about a secret he's been keeping from his parents for more than a year and unable to just.... say it already!

"I'm dating... Hobie." He winces, fists clenched in his hoodie pouch, bracing for whatever reactions his parents may have. He had been running countless scenarios in his head, even long before he had decided to tell them, so he's pretty sure he's prepared for whatever.

There's a long, stunned silence from his parents. It gives Miles time to be aware and feel uncomfortable about how they're seated while he's standing, like a performer in the spotlight. The tension he feels growing is finally broken by a single word from his dad.

"No."

His dad's response is.... stupid.

"No? What do you mean 'no?' It's not a question it's what's happening." Even tho he was expecting something like this, it takes a lot to keep his body language polite. It's an effort that is not being reciprocated.

"It's what's about to stop happening." His dad crosses his arms and Miles' heart sinks when his mom frowns and nods along in agreement. No allies. Worst case scenario on that front. That's fine. He can still salvage this.

"Why? What's wrong with Hobie?" he hates that asking this question was necessary and he really wishes Hobie hadn't insisted on being here. Miles thought it would go smoother if he talked to his parents alone, but Hobie was so insistent. They usually backed down so easy the first time that Miles told them 'no' about anything, so how could Miles argue? The compromise was for them to wait in his room, but that means Hobie would be hearing his parents' unwatched words.

His mom rests a placating hand on his dad's shoulder before speaking.

"Miles," saying his name in an attempt at being comforting is infuriating, "we're glad you have other people like you to support you..."

'But...'

"but couldn't you date someone... less... violent?"

'Violent?'

"Hobie's not violent." What else was there to say?

Miles remembers their first kiss, how Hobie had been unable to look at him as they had asked. The words were burned into his mind. "Can I kiss you?" As if they hadn't really been asking 'will you kiss me?' They didn't move after he had said "yes", only looked at him with wide, hopeful eyes, and had waited for Miles to make the first move. It had been the same way for their first time holding hands, their first date, first time sleeping in the same bed, for telling their friends, for being public where the press in each reality could see. They hadn't even looked at his artbooks without permission!

Always asked.

Always waited.

Violent????

"He breaks people's faces with his guitar!" his dad accuses.

"I break people's faces with my fists!" Miles retorts, pulling his hands from his pocket to gesture at one fist with his other hand. But the mention of the guitar makes Hobie's slow cover of Sunflower come to mind and he lets out a heavy sigh, relaxing slightly. He hadn't realize how much his shoulders had risen.

"That's different!" his dad stood, elbows out and fists clenched, causing Miles to take a startled step back. Despite the intimidation, he remains confident when he counters.

"How is it different!?"

"You aren't out there killing cops!" he must have read something different in Miles' confused expression because he adds a condescendingly triumphant, "Yeah!" before crossing his arms again and asking harshly, "You think I don't know what those blue laces mean!?"

"I've told you what their dimension is like! You've seen what injuries Mom's treated them for!" Miles doesn't understand how his dad is struggling with this. He knows how different other realities can be. He knows that cops can be corrupt, even in this reality. He was the one who gave Miles his BLM button!

"And how are we supposed to know any of those stories are true?" His dad's tone had softened, assured that he was close to ending this discussion with a win. But Miles could think of several ways they could know already. They could have gotten footage of the violence against protesters. The propaganda against Hobie. Could have let them visit the community center. But they had never asked!

"If you wanted proof why didn't you ask!?" Miles throws out his arms in exasperation.

"Okay, Okay, Okay," his mom interjects, standing and pointing a placating palm towards each of them, "Let's all calm down." Of course she stepped in before his dad had to respond. God forbid Miles get a win here. He looks away in annoyance, knowing he can't control his expression, no matter what she says next. "We thought you were dating that nice blond girl."

Miles feels like he's losing his entire mind. If he wasn't watchless and glitchless, he would suspect he's in the wrong universe. Since when did they think Gwen was nice? And how did they still not know her name after almost two years!? He doesn't dare look back at them but he manages to stay mostly calm when he replies.

"I've literally never dated Gwen." The thought of dating her had made him uncomfortable ever since that day at Spider Society HQ. He had expected her to have his back, instead she had joined everyone in the chase. She even got close to catching him! The only person who had never been against him, always had his back, was always there for him.... had been Hobie. He thought he had made that clear to his parents every time he talked about it.

"You've never dated and yet we keep finding her sweaters in your room?" his dad escalates again. Miles sighs and isn't able to keep the exasperation from his voice.

"She forgets things at everyone's houses, Dad." But of course that's a wrong answer....

"How many boys' rooms is she sneaking into!?"

"Jeff, please. Focus on Miles," his mom places a comforting hand on her husband's chest before looking back to Miles. "So then, how long have you been together?" Miles sighs again and drops his gaze to the floor, her previous words taking on new meanings. 'Focus on Miles.' 'Focus on what we can be mad at.' 'Focus on blaming him for being afraid to tell us.'

"Since right after... you know. Everything." They hadn't really put a name on it but they understood. And of course it wasn't acceptable.

"That's more than a year!" his dad yells the obvious while his mom gasps.

"Sixteen months," Miles says quietly. It was going to be a bit embarrassing if Hobie had been able to hear that.

"We've let you alone together in your room with the door closed!" his mom says, sounding scandalized.

"So then, why now? What finally got you feeling guilty enough to tell us?" Miles glares at his shoes as if they can change his father's words. Throwing the reason of guilt out is going to make anything Miles says next sound selfish. But he does have a reason, and he isn't going to lie about it.

"You think we're letting you invite him after this!?" His mom asks incredulously.

"My birthday is soon, and I don't want to have to pretend we aren't together like last year." It had been torture. How Hobie had been afraid to touch him too much or for too long. The sad look Hobie would give as a warning when they caught him smiling at them too fondly. They had even brought a single, half-assed combination birthday/xmas gift as a kind of decoy and Miles had to wait days before they could meet up again for them to give him the real things.

.... How he wasn't able to kiss them goodbye.

"What?" he snaps his head back up to stare in confusion. He's about to correct her misgendering when his dad adds,

"We're not letting him back in the house! You'll be lucky if we even let you have a birthday party!" he sounds surprised that Miles didn't know all this already.

"Dad! That's crazy! Do you even hear yourself!?"

"Oh and you're grounded!"

"For how long!?"

"A year!"

"A whole year!? What does that even do!? What suddenly changes after a year of isolation!?" Miles is trying to not cry. How is this happening? Why are they acting like this!?

"That's as long as we can protect you from that pervert!" His father snaps.

"Pervert!?!?"

"Yeah! How old is he anyway!? He looks 30!"

"Thir-" Miles feels like he's going to get a headache. "They're only thirteen months older than me!"

"An adult!"

"Gwen is fourteen months older! And you were fine with me dating her just a minute ago!"

"Whatever! Whatever!" Miles suddenly realizes why they hate when he uses that word. Miles uses it to try and give up.... but they use it to force a win. All this time they've been getting mad at him, grounding him, for something he wasn't even saying!

"I can't believe this. We're going to have to put bars on all the windows." His father rubs his head, exasperated, As he paces around the room, Miles struggles to hold back tears. "But those portal things! We'll have to restrict your watch use. And we'll need to take your door off it's hinges!" Jeff raises and drops his arms, like this is the biggest inconvenience he's ever had. He stops pacing to point stiffly at Miles, "Tell that spider society of yours whatever it is you tell them to get a replacement for you."

Miles feels the tears spill and he can't stop himself from turning invisible. Jeff grabs for him.

"Don't you dare," he shouts, managing to get a firm grip on Miles' arm.

"I wasn't doing anything!"

"Jeff!"

"Let go!" Miles pleads, desperate to not use his spider strength.

"No!"

"Please stop!" Miles turns to his mom with pleading eyes she can't see. "Mom!"

"Mi amor, please!"

"Not until you turn back visible!"

"Oi!" Miles' bedroom door bursts open with the word. A printed shockwave from the door's collision with Miles' dresser clashes against the style of 1610.

"Hobie," Miles breathes. He isn't sure if he means to say it as a warning or a plea, but he's so relieved to see them that he turns back visible.

"Oh come on! What the heck are you doing here!?" Jeff snaps as Hobie steps towards him, a pink border flaring behind their mostly yellow form. It's one of their least threatening color sets to people unfamiliar with them, but Miles recognizes it for what it is: Radioactive.

"Miles loves you too much to hurt you." they grip the wrist of Jeff's hand that's still holding onto Miles, "I don't." They squeeze, the action causing them to shift to their printed style and their border's edges to spike.

Jeff yells as he releases his grip to try and free himself.

"Hobie! Stop!" Miles yells.

They do.

"See how easy it is to stop being a git?" they sneer at Jeff, their border disappearing and their colors chilling out into their neutral look. Miles clings to them, hugging them tight, and speaks quickly.

"I'm so glad you're here. I'm sorry. You were right. I love you. I'm sorry."

"S'ok, love." They wrap their arms around him firmly, "This ain't on you, you hear?" Their deep voice is comforting, and their hold is so familiar that Miles can almost feel the gentle rocking of Hobie's home where it usually happens. There had been so many missions that ended like this and Miles finds himself desperately craving all the comforts that usually come next.

"I want to leave," Miles barely keeps steady as he says it. He wonders where he even found the strength to speak.

"Whatever you need, love." It was exactly what Miles wanted to hear, what he needed to hear. He's stopped crying and he wipes his cheeks on their shirt with a pitiful laugh.

"Take me home." Just saying the words made him feel so much better. It didn't feel like a request or pleading, it felt like casting a spell, because he knows Hobie will make it happen.

Both their spider sense is suddenly triggered with the sound of radio static.

"Is anyone there?" Rio pleads. "This is the wife of Captain Morales! A spiderman just attacked my husband and is planning to kidnap my son!"

Miles barely has time to process the words he just heard before Hobie is speaking.

"I've already packed for you. Let's go."

"What?" Miles is too lost to keep up and Hobie can see it. They take his hand and retreat back to his room, ignoring Jeff's protests. Miles half notices his partially packed room before a bag is shoved into his arms and a portal opens. His parents are screaming but he can't process anything that they're saying. So he listens to the only word screaming in his mind.

'Leave!'

He lunges through the portal, not even landing gracefully, laying on his back and staring at Hobie's patched ceiling. He manages to comprehend the thuds that follow him as more of his stuff being flung from the portal. Forcing himself to stand, he watches as Hobie lands more gracefully than he had, their arms wrapped securely around a box of records. Their radioactive colors look more pink in the lamplight of their livingroom.

The portal closes.

Hobie sets the box of records down with care and a huff.

"How someones like them turned out someone as wonderful as you I'll never-" their words die at the sight of Miles; stiff, his eyes wide, still clinging to this duffle as if it was the only thing holding him together. The sight is so jarring that they shift to monochrome. They snatch the bag and throw it across the room, replacing the empty space by pulling him into a tight hug.

Miles instantly shatters, clinging at the back of their vest as he sobs into their chest.

"I've got you," they promise, holding him tighter and pressing their lips to the top of his head and speaking softer, "I got you, love."

Miles feels something unexpected on the back of Hobie's vest when he grips them tighter, and gasps when he recognizes it. He pushes them back to look up at them with wide eyes.

"He tased you!?" and he hadn't been there to redirect the charge....

"Shit." Hobie swears as they toss their vest to the side. "Didn't mean for you to notice that. I'm fine. Don't think about that now."

"Well I don't want to think about it later! I should have been there to protect you!" Instead he was running away like a coward. Left Hobie alone. Hobie would have never done that to him!

"Tasers is nothin, love," they say with a chuckle, "I'd been fine even if it had made it through my jacket."

"How do you know that??"

"Your playful shocks are more powerful than those mosquito bites." They pinch his side, teasing. It tickles and Miles can't help but yelp out a laugh. "I keep sayin you need to start thinkin with volts more." They were right. They were always right. Miles presses his face into their chest again and, finally feeling safe, all his strength leaves him. Hobie catches him and guides him to the couch.

"Sorry," Miles mumbles.

"Nothin to be sorry for," Hobie assures, kneeling to pull off Miles' shoes.

"Mi amor, no," Miles complains, "You don't need to do that...."

"But I'm gonna anyhow." They toss his shoes to the side before thwipping over the bag they had thrown from Miles. Catching the bag causes them to turn their neutral colors. They must finally be feeling safe too. "Now stop fussin and let me take care of you," they scold as they rummage in the duffle. They find what they're looking for quickly and toss the pajama pants at Miles' face. Exhausted as he is, he isn't quick enough to catch them and Hobie laughs at his fumble. Miles loves that sound. So the embarrassment was worth it.

"You get changed while I put us on a cuppa," they say, standing, but they hesitate with a worried look, "You alright alone?" Miles nods but Hobie still doesn't move, wanting him to say it.

"I'm fine. Promise. Make it peach tea?" his reassurance makes Hobie smile again.

"Of course, Sunflower." They lean down and place a gentle kiss on Miles' cheek before turning to leave across the deck of the boat. "Whatever you want."

Once they're gone, Miles is left with only the sounds of the boat creaking and the lapping of the water. He takes a moment to close his eyes and enjoy the gentle swaying caused by the waves. Unfortunately, it gives him time to become aware of his own body. He still feels so weak, his stomach hurts, and his head is starting to ache.

He changes clothes and starts to look through what Hobie had packed to distract himself. He starts by shifting the crate of Uncle Aaron's records onto the shelf with Hobie's so they would be secure. Next, he gathers all of the duffels against the end of the couch: the clothes from his clean bin with a few of his figures tucked between, the clothes from his dirty bin, his spider gear, drums, markers, and empty sketch books.

Miles can't help but smile to himself. Of course Hobie would think to grab his supplies before grabbing his older works. He wonders what his parents will do with what he left behind. They wouldn't throw it out.... right?

He bites his lip, trying not to cry again.

"Hope I got the most important stuff," Hobie says, snapping him out of his thoughts. They're carrying a full tea tray. "I would have packed more but...." They stop themself. "Sorry." As if they have anything to be sorry for.

"I didn't expect you to pack anything," Miles says, sitting back on the couch while Hobie sits the tray on the table in front of it. "Thank you. You're amazing."

Hobie smiles and turns pink, the pink they only turn for him, the one covered in scribbled hearts and hand written lyrics. "Back at ya, love," they say as they pour the tea. They prep Miles' cup without asking him what he wants, already knowing, and sit heavily next to him. They take off their shoes and toss them aside before kicking their legs over his lap and passing him his cup. Miles breathes in the steam as he waits for it to cool and it helps with the headache.

"After this we should get some shut eye," Hobie says, eyes closed, enjoying the steam from their own cup. "You want the top or bottom bunk?"

Miles snorts into his tea at being teased for his question from the first time he spent the night here.

"Come on, man!" he laughs, "Aren't you ever gonna let me forget that?"

"Never," they say before taking a sip of their tea, the warmth and comfort turning them back to neutral. Miles tries to take a sip of his own but it's still too hot. "I'll stop teasing you about it when you stop wearin logos and brand names."

"And what can I do to make you come up with a different trade option when I want you to do something?"

They shrug, "Probly nothin."

Miles rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He tries another sip of his tea and is thankful it's cool enough. The warmth in his stomach helps with some of the ache. Hobie picks up a couple of pills from a sauce cup on the tray and holds them out to him.

"Figured you'd need some pain killers," they explain. Miles wants to tell them that they're amazing again, but decides he doesn't want to be that repetitive. He settles for a simple "thank you" and takes the pills, swallowing them with a sip of his tea.

They stay that way, cozy and playful, until Miles starts to feel like it's becoming impossible to keep his eyes open.

"Bed time?" Hobie asks and Miles nods lazily, setting his cup back on the tray. They kick their feet back off Miles' lap, turning neutral, to stand and pick up the tray. They set it in a bin next to the deck door before returning to Miles and lifting him cradle style.

"I can walk," he says, but there's no bite to his words. He wraps his arms around Hobie's neck and nuzzles against it. The cool, smooth metal of their collar feels good against his hot face.

"Mmhmm," is their only reply as they carry him to the lower deck. They set him on the bottom bunk and start changing into their own sleep clothes. Miles takes off his hoodie and socks before checking the bedside drawer for bonnets, tossing one to Hobie once they've changed into their sleep pants.

"Skootch," Hobie says, sitting on the bed next to him. He does, taking his usual place closer to the wall, tucked under the narrower top bunk. He pulls the covers up to his chin and breathes in deeply, comforted by the familiar smell. When he feels Hobie's arm wrap around his waist, he takes their hand to replace the blanket, kissing their fingers and hugging their arm.

"I love you so much," he whispers, briefly worried he'll cry again.

Hobie hugs him tight and tangles their legs. "I love you," they place a firm kiss against the back of his neck, "Whatever happens."

[skyler1290]

Right, I'm bored and it's late in the night, so I wrote down some random stuff about each of the neo-ancients. Also, there may be a few hints (and one outright saying) of some of their powers down below.

Dark Choco Cookie

- Remember how I said Dark Choco wanted to hide any and everything reminding him and the people around him about his father? Well, he once dyed his hair (of course, to hide its color since it looked really similar to his father's hair). He dyed it blonde (it was the only color he could find), and Choco absolutely regretted it the moment he looked in a mirror. After a day or two, he removed the hair coloring and vowed to never do such a thing again. Stormbringer teases him about this from time to time.

- Choco doesn't react very well when his father is mentioned. That's something him and Frigid have in common.

- Every sword he's felt after the Strawberry Jam Sword hasn't felt right. He can still fight well, sure, but it's like his full potential can't shine through.

- Him and Kouign-Amann sometimes switch swords, just for funsies.

- "What do you mean I can teleport, now?"

- Unsure. He's unusure. About what, you ask? Everything.

Kouign-Amann Cookie

- She's not a Paladin in this AU, but she's aware of them. Kouign likes them and holds admiration for the Crème Knights, however. Not like they'd ever accept her with her parentage, though.

- The cult is after her, and though she acts brave, deep down, paranoia has become a recurring feeling.

- "My father's a cult leader disintegrating people. Do you think I'm ok?!"

- She's always up for a spar with her fellow neo-ancients. Sword fighting is one thing she's really passionate about, after all, and a certain daughter of Dragonberry Cookie shares such an interest.

- Ambition is good. After all, she literally holds the Light of Ambition. But, it also serves as her fatal flaw.

- Healing was never something Kouign-Amann thought she'd be good at. That was more of Saint Vanilla's thing, right? Her Soul Jam may have changed her mind on that.

Raspberry Cookie

- Loyalty is her fatal flaw. It's the same concept as Kouign-Amann having ambition as her fatal flaw while being the holder of the Light of Ambition.

- Her and Royal Berry aren't close, but she does worry about her older brother. She also isn't close with Jungleberry, though she definitely finds her as a respectful figure. Princess Cookie is the only one she's interacted with regularly. They're ok with eachother, and Raspberry is definitely glad to also have someone who finds her freedom important. She views Princess Cookie more like a younger sister than a niece.

- Despite not being blood related to anyone in House Raspberry, she's usually counted as part of it anyways. This is due to a few things she has done for them which has helped significantly. She is aware of Raspberry Mousse Cookie, and she's definitely still proud like canon (that doesn'r change the fact she'd never say it out loud).

- Unlike Dark Choco, Raspberry cut her hair right before she ran away from the kingdom, leaving the cut off hair on her chamber's bathroom floor.

- Just to add more onto it, there's a lot of things she wouldn't say out loud. Each reason is either due to pride, hurt, or even both. The topic of Dragonberry Cookie falls under the last reason mentioned.

- "I miss the kingdom. Was this what Dark Choco felt?"

Mercurial Knight Cookie

- Mercurial is the most calm and stoic out of all of the neo-ancients.

- The other neo-ancients are still unaware of Mercurial Knight's original flavor. The cookie himself is still working that out. Does he want to stay with the identity he has now? Or did that imply that he was loyal to Midnight Lily's cause?

- He misses Elder Faerie, deep down. He had been something that filled the void Midnight Lily had left. But now he's gone, and he accepts that. He holds the Light of Detachment, after all.

- Though, he feels guilty. Mercurial Knight Cookie knows what he's doing is right, but that doesn't lessen the fact he may have grown some sentimental attachments. He misses the Faerie Kingdom. He misses his mother. But he doesn't show it. It's all in the past now, and it's time to move on. Surely time will heal everything.

- "My flavor, you ask? My apologies. I'd rather not say."

- He finds the Light of Detachment's voice as something that brings him up and reminds him of his one true goal: to save Earthbread from the former ancients and protect his fellow neo-ancients while at it. This was an oath he took silently. Unlike the last one, he would not break it.

Stormbringer Cookie

- If you want to know her personality, I'll first have to ask you a question. Do you know what 'EPIC: The Musical' is? If you do, she's almost exactly like Hermes.

- Stormbringer is a demigoddess, but she acts as if she was a full goddess most of the time and refers to herself as the latter. One day, she hopes to ascend to true godhood in a good way unlike her mother.

- Her Soul Jam provided her with less powers than the others since Stormbringer already had quite a few to begin with. The witches wouldn't want someone else becoming too overpowered now, would they?

- "What do you want me to do? Scare them off by sounding some thunder?"

- Connecting to the info above, Stormbringer possesses the ability to sound thunder (but that doesn't mean lightning will strike).

- She often brags how her weapon is the coolest out of all of the equipment the neo-ancients have. They all can't help but agree when it comes to that.

-

Sorry for any typos. I'm tired so I'm not going to be rereading this post. I could've written this tomorrow, but I love the BAAU so much, I couldn't help myself.

Beast Ancients AU by @cuppajj

[drysdaleknieslee]

could you write some fraser minten smut? i am living off scraps rn🥲

Mirror Mirror

Hello my love, sorry for responding so late. Finals are finally over and I have time to focus on my inbox.

Our Minten doesn't get enough recognition so I'm glad I got this request!

FraserMinten x female!woc

Warning Disclaimer!: oral (f receiving), penetration, mirror, body dysmorphia, Minten being a sweetheart, slight exhibitionism

"One more time ladies! This dance needs to be perfect for the recital next week! Oh, and y/n_"

Your head shoots up at the sound of your instructor's harsh voice, "Your solo better be PERFECT." she states before starting the music again. You've been going to this ballet academy for almost a year now. You've learned a lot while I've been here. Your teacher usually gave other girls the solos and you've usually always been...in the back. But you've been working harder to make my presence and talent known so that she could realize you were meant to have a solo.

All the hard work paid off, but you weren't prepared for the pressure that came with it. Being front and center was a lot but you deserve this spot and you'd fight to keep it.

After about five more repetitions of the routine, we were dismissed for the day. You planned on staying later to work on the routine some more and work on my solo. You needed this to be like muscle memory. When you went out to refill my water bottle you stopped when you heard giggles near the fountain.

"I still can't believe SHE got the solo of all people." "Misses probably gave it to her out of pity." one voice said with a laugh.

"Did you see her when we did our Temps Levé's? I thought she was gonna break the wood in the floor." one voice said causing all three to simultaneously break out into laughter.

"She can wear as many tights as she likes, but her thighs are still gonna move regardless. Surprised she hasn't burned a hole in them yet."

The laughter continued and faded as they got further away before there was nothing.

You ran back to the studio room and just crumpled to the floor. The only sound is your soft sobs. You always felt a little self-conscious of yourself. You weren't skinny but you weren't small either. Your thighs touched, you had a bit of a stomach pouch, and you knew you'd never be less than 150 pounds.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of your phone. You walk over to your bag to grab it.

'Minty 🩵'

Oh no. He's gonna know if you're feeling off just from your voice. He's bringing you dinner and probably calling to see if you remembered.

"Hey babe."

"Hey." Your voice clearly sounded off causing him to pause before continuing. "Who do I need to fight y/n?"

"No one," you try to mask a sniffle, "are you outside?"

"Yes. We'll talk more when I get there." You start to panic and quickly wipe your cheeks and get all the sniffles out. Your eyes were still puffy and redder than usual and your your locs were a mess from running your hands through them. You jump a little when you hear the door open and you turn to face the serious face of your boyfriend.

"Fraser-" "Who did it?"

"It's nothing-"

"It is because you have been crying and your slightly shaking." You start to tear up again but before you can he's already walked across the room and takes your face in his hands and forces you to look in his eyes.

"Baby please tell me what's wrong."

Your tears finally spill and he just puts your face into his chest and he just holds you and caresses your head. When you've got all your tears out, you finally tell him about the conversation you overheard. You told him you knew they were talking about you as your the only girl in the class who's slightly bigger than everyone else.

"I want you to listen to me and listen well, you are more than qualified to be here. I've seen you dance and your far more graceful than any of these other girls."

He wipes your cheeks while he continues, "And there's nothing wrong with your weight. I love your thighs, your stomach, everything about you."

You giggle lightly. "You're just saying that Mints."

"You want me to prove it? Get on the floor and face the mirror."

You look at him to see if he's joking but his seriousness doesn't waver. He wasn't asking. You get on the floor and sit facing the mirror.

"Lift your knees." You raise your knees slightly.

He then gets in front of you and hooks his fingers in the waistband of your tights and starts to pull them down.

"You should never need to wear three pairs of tights. I like it when your thighs move." His voice has dropped a whole octave since starting this and to say you don't feel something in the pit of your stomach would be a lie.

He gets your tights off and tosses them towards my bag. He starts to leave feather-light kisses from your ankle, slowly moving up your legs to your thighs and he stops.

"I'm gonna make you feel pretty." Your heart rate picks up to a dangerous speed at the sound of his voice.

"I want you to watch yourself while I eat you out. I'll stop if you close your eyes," he explains. "Do you understand?

You nod your head slowly before letting out a shaky "Yes".

At your confirmation, he puts his focus on the wet spot that's formed on your panties before moving them to the side to insert his index finger.

You hold your breathe, trying to be as quiet as possible, while also trying to follow his instructions and look at yourself in the mirror.

Your cheeks have a slight tint to them now, beeps of sweat have started to form on our forehead, and your chest is rising and falling heavily due to your shallow breaths. Your mouth suddenly drops open when you feel Fraser insert another finger and add his tongue.

You grab his hair for leverage and try not to break eye contact as you do not want him to stop contrary to belief. You and him had never explored this before, but the thought of seeing your boyfriend treat you so tenderly and being able to actually see your face did give you a boost of confidence.

"Mints-"

"I know, I know."

He quickens his pace while he kitten licks your clit. He adds another finger and curls his fingers upward. You let out a silent moan and tug his hair lightly when you climax. It hit you so intensely your vision blurred for a moment.

"Remind me to do that again if it's gonna make you do that each time."

You smack his chest playfully and you try to hide your face in the crook of his neck. "Let's go to my place. You practiced enough today. We'll warm up the food, watch whatever movie you want and i'll pamper you for the rest of the night."

"I like the sound of that. Thanks Mints."

While he goes to grab your stuff you get an idea.

"Mints?"

"Yeah?"

"...Can we buy a mirror for the house?"