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gguk-n · 4 months ago

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Chapter 1- Anonymous Conversations

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen x Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N formed an unexpected bond with a boy behind the screen. He doesn't have many interest it seems, except for reading her stupid poems.

{Reader's POV}

12/07/2012

Dear Diary, Stella is leaving for Canada tomorrow forever. Today was the last day of school before the summer break so I went to Stella's house after school. It's so shitty, how can she leave me like this and before the start of high school. I don't have any friends other than her, what am I supposed to do??? This isn't fair, first Faye moved back to her home country a couple years back and now Stella. It's like they don't even care about me. I made a google plus account so we can stay in touch. Actually everyone's on google plus, I'm just late to the party. I'm sure we'll still be close.

02/01/2013

OMG!! I think I'm in love. There's this new boy band, One Direction. Ava told me about them last year but I brushed her off saying they weren't my cup of tea, but OMG!!! They are fucking perfect and I love Niall so much. He's so cute and has the dreamiest eyes and his accent, I'm gonna faint. I bought the Take Me Home album yesterday!! I even put up their poster above my bed, hehe!! Sooooo, I may or may not be writing now. I think I'm gonna be an author. The stuff isn't great like Shakespeare but I'm sure I'll improve. I've written a couple poems and Aria read them and she thinks they are great. I'm gonna start uploading them on google plus. I made a separate page for it, under a pseudonym. If I really improve, maybe I can publish my work.

I was sat at my laptop, typing the latest story I came up with during lunch so I could upload it. There were a lot of people who were reading my work and even encouraged me. There is improvement, but then again, we can do better, I'm sure. My parents aren't very happy with how I'm wasting my time writing instead of focusing on my education since I'm in high school now. I finished typing the story and clicked the upload button, I got a comment on the post. It was from this guy, named Max, just Max. He always read all of my work and writes the nicest comments under them. I haven't spoken to him personally ever since my mother kept warning me about stranger danger and that it could be some 50 year old dude. But his comments are encouraging and make me want to write more. I hope he knows the kind of effect he's having on me.

My birthday is in a couple of days, I don't know what I'll do since I don't really have a lot of friends. Even Aria is away during that time, so I don't really have anyone to go out with. My parents are busy as always.

So, out of desperation or sadness, I don't know which one, I posted on google plus saying that it was my birthday. The first person who replied was Max as always. I really wanna know when this guy sleeps or how he gets any work done if he is online so much. He messaged me personally too, to wish me again and even asked what I did. I couldn't lie because my heart was heavy, so I told him. I literally just unloaded about not having any friends and spending the day alone because work was more important for my parents. He was so nice about it. He spent the next hour talking to me and cheering me up. He's apparently 15, from Netherlands. He loves cats and lives with his dad and sister. He sounds like a fun guy.

After that, both of us ended up chatting on google plus regularly. I would message him immediately after school and spend the next couple of hours talking to him. Some times, he'd be gone a couple weekends but it was no biggy. I'm sure he had other commitments instead of entertaining a dumb teenager.

Max's birthday is on 30 September. I wanted to be the first one, so I stayed up late to match the dutch timings and wished him. He replied a little while later. He wasn't very excited about it. I get it, maybe his friends aren't there or couldn't make it to his birthday. I was gonna cheer him like he cheered me up. I wish I could send him a present. He really was a light in dark time. When I had no friends in school I could rely on, he came like the knight in shining armour. I just want to be a good and reliable friend to him like he is to me. He is such a sweetheart. We've never spoken on call yet. I guess I'm still a little scared and we've only known each other for a few months. I'm gonna hold on that but Max is a genuinely nice person in my eyes. But his dad doesn't sound like the nicest person from what he says, but I can't tell him that his dad is shitty so I just read his texts.

18/12/2013

Dear Diary, Maxie is the cutest. I haven't seen or heard him yet but I feel like he is. Otherwise, why would he encourage me to follow my dreams? He was so understanding and gave great advice. You might wonder why I needed the advice, diary. I told my parents I wanna pursue a degree in literature and we had a huge fight since apparently I'm throwing my life away and I should try to get a proper degree that might get me a job. Apparently, I'm not thinking straight. I've been thinking about becoming an author for some time now, it's my one passion, I've realised. And if it means struggling, I would rather struggle and be happy than be in a dead end job. Just because they are some big shot business people doesn't mean I wanna do that do. ugh!!! I hate them. Maxie calmed me down honestly, he heard me out and told me it was okay to follow my dreams. I think he is such a good friend. I won't tell him that, he has a big ego as is. LOL!!

I've been gaining a lot of traction on my posts on google plus. I have a couple thousand followers but Max is the most active of them all. Max is so effortlessly funny. He did ask one time if we could talk on call, I told him that my microphone was broken. I'm still a little skeptical. I know, even though I'm literally sharing everything with him, I've never spoken on call or video with him. Maybe some day.

04/03/2014

Dear Diary, I got a new phone and a new number. The previous one was one of my parents multiple numbers but this one is my own. I feel like an adult, hehe!! I made a whatsapp, maybe I'll share my number with Maxie and we might start chatting on there. Google plus had become a bit of hassle and I'm not uploading on it like I used to. I usually only open it to talk to Max. I think it would be better to shift it to another service. He's been a little busy this year compared to the last, didn't tell me much but I think it has to do with him being in his final year of high school. Can't relate, but I hope I'm done with high school soon. It fucking sucks. But on the bright side, I've gotten close to Nia and Aria and I could call Aria my best friend but she considers Nia her best friend. I don't mind being her friend. I have Max anyways.

Max has been quite busy lately, but I don't blame him. I would be busy in my final year of high school too. Even with all that, he has taken time out to talk to me. I did share my number with him, so now instead of google plus, which is a barren wasteland, we text on whatsapp. I've suggested talking on call some time when he's free, which hasn't happened yet.

We had set up a time to talk, it was really early here but I didn't mind, I was up anyways. I couldn't wait to hear his voice. I was anxious as well, what if he's some pedophile; all these thoughts raced through my head when my phone rang. Max- Hi, Y/N! Y/N- Hey, Max!! How are you? Max- I'm good, what about you? Y/N- Yeah, I'm good too. haha!! This is so weird talking to you. Max- yeah, you sound pretty. Fuck was he flirting, is this flirting? A million thoughts ran through my head, no one's ever flirted with me before. I felt my cheeks heat up. Y/N- You sound nice too. I mean....you have a nice voice. Max- haha, thanks, this is the first time some one has said that. Y/N- soooo, what have you been up too?? You've been so busy lately. There was a pause on the other end. I heard shuffling. Max- yeah, I've been busy with stuff. I'll be done soon for a while now. Y/N- That's great I need my best friend back! The conversation flowed smoothly. It didn't feel like we were talking on call for the first time. I had a lot of fun talking to Max. He sounds like a teenager, much to my relief. He's just as funny on call as he is on text.

After that, we ended up calling each other regularly. Max would answer my calls whenever but sometimes I felt bad about calling him at the crack ass of dawn in Netherland so I would avoid calling him whenever. He is so kind and listens well but damn does he talk. Every one who knows me calls me talkative, if they heard Max their ears would bleed. But I like hearing him talk, he has the most random and vast knowledge, he's helped me write too many of my papers because I didn't have to research, I could just ask him; he's like a walking encyclopedia.

17/05/2015

Dear Diary, I think I'm in love. It's not some celebrity this time but I think it's Max. I don't even know that dude's last name but I'm in love. He not like the guys in school, he's so mature and funny and sweet and understanding and he supports me so much. I didn't know when or how but I think I love him. Obviously I won't tell him. It's prolly a crush since I have't dated anyone ever. I'll get over it, can't ruin my friendship over this. As is, he has gotten so busy. I think he is going to college. He didn't say it explicitly but why else would he be so busy right now if not applying for colleges. I don't know the dutch education system but I'm sure he busy pursuing higher education. He said he liked cars, I think he'll do something with cars. I didn't really ask in more details. I'm sure he'll tell me when he wants to. We have a chill friendship, we share when and what we want to. Alas, I hope this crush doesn't ruin my friendship.

09/08/2015

This is bad, my crush on Max has only gone on to increase. He's so kind to me, what am I supposed to do? Also he's the only one who can calm me down after a fight with my parents regarding my future. Sadly, he gotten so busy. He's gone for a while every few weeks. But lately he's been free. We've been talking a lot. He sounds a lot more rested lately too. I'm sure college is tough. But he's strong and I know he'll do it.

[Little did Y/N know, Max was busy racing across the world in Redbull's junior team. He was in his first year as a formula one driver, hence he was so busy. Max had no intentions of telling her, he liked being just Max, a guy from Netherlands who could talk to her. He enjoyed the disconnect he got with her]

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tasiawrites · 7 months ago

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Slashers and their black partner getting their hair and nails done

ft. Brahms Heelshire, Micheal Myers, Jason Voorhes, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair and Billy Loomis + Stu Matcher

contains: general fluff, poly Ghostface (i think that's it idk let me know)

Brahms Heelshire

you had to sneak out at 3 am even to be able to leave to get them done in the first place.

did three days worth of food prep only to be back in under 26 hours

Brahms was NOT happy and wanted to hurt you but then his brain clicked

loves the feeling of your nails on his scalp, might forgive you (if you give him some extra kisses)

likes playing with your hair, even if you say no you owe him

will allow you to get them done every two months ONLY because he likes the feeling of you playing in his hair with your nails done.

"kiss?" Brahms asked in his childlike voice as he stood at the foot of your bed later that night. you rolled your eyes at his voice decision after his behavior earlier but allowed him into your bed for late-night cuddles. you placed a few kisses on his porcelain mask. "I'm sorry for leaving without telling you Brahmsy," you coaxed running your fingers through his hair as he settled in next to you.

Micheal Myers

didn't even notice you were gone until he did the math, trips to the store DO NOT take 10 hours

hoe where is you at?

He kinda sulking when you get back

likes the hair didn't notice the nails AT ALL

pulls a single braid every chance he gets and he pulls it HARD

he learns that 10+ hours out means a new hairstyle to fuck with, sometimes he follows you

"oh come on Michael," you rolled your eyes at the sulking man on your couch. he doesn't even look at you until you stand directly in front of him. he ignores you and you eventually give up and continue about your evening. that is until you felt a tug on a braid that slipped out of your bonnet. a hard tug. you turn to find a smug-looking Micheal with the end in his hand. well, at least he's not mad. it took him until the third day to realize your nails were done.

Billy Loomis and Stu Matcher

you did tell them, they just forgot

you come back and they acting like you went missing for nine years

Stu loves the hair while Billy loves the nails

you spend the next few hours giving kisses and being showered with praise

every other time you go at least one of them goes with you

you walked into Stu's house slightly confused at the silence. you were just about to call one of them when Billy came barreling down the stairs half dressed in his Ghostface costume. "um.. hi?" you tried as he quickly began searching you for injuries as Stu came down the stairs asking too many questions in quick succession. after calming them down, you sat between them as they played with your hair and nails respectively.

Thomas Hewitt

The Texas heat was making your hair hard to maintain so you asked Luda Mae if you could get a few days off so you could fix that

you had to go three towns over to get it done

to thank her you got Hoyt to drop Luda Mae off so you both could manicures and pedicures

Thomas was too excited to see you after three days to realize your hair was done

when he did he spent an unnatural amount of time just, looking at you??

he's so in love

also loves it when your nails massage his head, especially after a long day at work

misses you every time you leave but he gets to see a new hairstyle so it balances out, he does miss playing with your natural hair tho

"hi Tommy," you whisper as he crawls into bed next to you. he gathers you up into his arms and you give him a soft smile. he connects his lips to yours and you run your fingers through his hair and rub on his scalp. he shudders and a low sound of approval climbs out of his throat.

Vincent Sinclair

I mean he doesn't stop you from going anywhere, he's just pouty about it

spends the night you spent in the other town making wax figurines of you

he's so happy when you get back

you get your nails the color of his eye, a lovely brown with a pretty white design to accompany it.

absolutely obsessed with your hair.

like he likes the nails but by god does he love your hair

the next time you go hes vibrating with excitement, he can't wait to see what you do next

"Vinny?" you call as you walk down into the basement. it did not take long for Vincent to come around the corner looking as excited as someone with a mask on his face could look. with hasty footsteps, he approached you hands fidgeting in excitement. it only took a small nod from you to have the lanky man all over you. he took your hand in his and watched the nails closely before his fingers played with your hair. the next morning you found a small wax figurine of yourself on your bedroom side table.

Jason Voorhees

poor baby, you almost gave him a heart attack

he thought you left him

sulky large man

when you come back he's like O-O

very happy, thinks you're so pretty

puts flowers in your hair and is very gentle with it

likes to see your nails when you hold his hands

please give him a heads-up next time

he waits with wildflowers for you to return

Jason's fingers clumsily placed another flower in your hair. it dislodged another one that you quickly caught and handed back to him. it took a few more flowers for him to be satisfied and when he was he gave a grunt and lifted you to your feet. "ready to go home?" you asked the large man as he intertwined his finger with yours happily rubbing his thumb over the smoothness of your nails.

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this has nothing to do with the poll, it has been stewing in my drafts for a minute

POLY GHOSTFACE IS THE ONLY CORRECT OPTION good night

n e way lemme go study for my exams

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writinground2 · 12 days ago

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Bad Guy Part 2 - Leah Williamson

Part 2 of Bad Guy.

This has been a very long time coming. I'm sorry for how long it took, but I have rewritten this so many times, but was not satisfied.

Leah felt out of breath as the words left her mouth. She didn’t even know where the words came from or why she had suddenly felt so angry. Her day had been great; they had left early for training and missed any traffic, the canteen had her favourite breakfast out fresh just as she walked in, the weather was the perfect temperature on the pitch, her lifts felt strong in the gym.

So, she didn’t know why she abruptly snapped at Y/N that evening. They had been so good and happy for weeks. Leah had spent hours reading about the signs of emotional abuse, how to be in a relationship with someone recovering, asking Jordan and Rachel for help, anything she could think of. And she had been so patient, Y/N had made it easy, doing everything she could for the relationship to work. They both were putting in the work, having several open and honest conversations. Leah learned quickly that Y/N hadn’t realized she was being abused.

Her patience just seemed to dissipate, the words leaving her mouth before she knew what she was saying. She couldn’t hear them over the ringing in her ears, the words not coming back to her until Y/N was already out of sight. Y/N had only muttered a soft you’re right before walking as quickly and quietly as she could to her room.

It took everything Leah had in her to remain where she was, she knew she would only make things much worse than she already did. As quick as her anger bashed into her, it disappeared. Numbly, she moved to the living room, sitting silently on the couch. Shaking her head, she tried to focus on listening for Y/N upstairs. Not hearing anything, she continued to sit in silence, not wanting to miss Y/N attempting to run away.

Leah went over the day again while she waited. The day had been good, so good. Y/N still struggled with affection but had happily leaned into Leah’s chest when the blonde wrapped her arms around her that morning. They drove to training that morning, Y/N’s hand settled comfortably on Leah’s thigh. Breakfast had been brought out just as they walked into the canteen.

The whole day seemed so good.

Then it didn’t. She still can’t piece together how it went from such a good day to whatever it was now. The words continued to echo through her head. Y/N’s blank face etched into her mind. The house was silent, making the words seem that much louder. She stood for a second, needing to do something, sitting back down worried that she would miss Y/N leaving.

“It’s been months Y/N, figure it out a

Where did that even come from? What did she even mean? Leah had no idea why she said that. She knew how hard Y/N had been working to move past her experience with Sydney. Y/N hadn’t even done anything that Leah should snap at her about. Leah roughly dragged her hand down her face, slamming her head to the back of the couch, she felt no better than Y/N’s ex at this point.

Knowing she needed to do something, and sitting still was just making her more antsy, she made her way to the kitchen. The fight, if she could even call it that, happened as soon as they got home, so neither had eaten supper yet. Biting her lip, she opened the fridge, freezer, and cabinets a couple times trying to figure out what she could make without burning it or giving either of them food poisoning.

Spotting a bag of frozen french fries and chicken strips, she pulled both out and started the stove to preheat. She dumped both bags out on two separate cooking pans and shoved them in the oven without a second thought, tossing the bag in the garbage right after. Realizing she had no idea how long or how hot to cook them at, she begrudgingly pulled the bags out to check before quickly lowering the temperature of the oven appropriately and setting a timer on her phone.

She took caution not to drop anything or make any sudden noises, remembering something she had read about abusers making unnecessary noise to create unease in their victims. As careful as she could, she dished up two plates, and sat them on the table.

Looking towards the stairs, she considered her next move. She wanted to respect Y/N’s privacy, but she also wanted to apologize and feed her supper. Should she go knock? Call her from the kitchen? Leave the plate outside her door? Leave it in the kitchen? Text her? She felt overwhelmed with her options and choosing the best way to not startle Y/N. The grip on her heart returned when she realized if she felt this overwhelmed with a simple meal, how overwhelmed did Y/N feel every day?

Making up her mind, she approached Y/N’s room, making sure not to bang on the door, she gently knocked and took a step back. The door opened quickly, as if Y/N had been waiting. Leah realized she probably had, had been waiting to be scolded for something else.

“I made dinner, nothing fancy, but I managed not to burn anything,” Leah laughed self-deprecatingly, “I’d like for you to join me if you’re up for it. If you aren’t, I can bring it upstairs. Or, put it in the fridge for later, when you’re ready for it.”

Realizing she was rambling; she snapped her mouth shut and stood with her back pressed to the wall. She didn’t know what to do now, if she should wait for a response or if she should walk away to not pressure Y/N’s decision. The grip tightened again the more she realized how hard this was to navigate. Biting her lip, she nodded softly and started to walk away, smiling to herself when she heard the quiet shuffle of Y/N behind her.

They both sat quietly for a couple minutes, just picking at their meals, the silence stiff. Leah remembered something else she had read, that abusers would punish their victims with the silent treatment. She wanted to kick herself when she realized that’s probably what Y/N thought she was doing. Supressing a groan, she realized she hadn’t even apologized yet.

“Y/N, I am so sorry for what I said to you,” Leah started gently, “I know how hard you are working and this isn’t something that just goes away. It was such a stupid, insensitive thing to say. I am sorry, I understand if you can’t forgive, or if you need time.”

Her heart clenched again when she saw the brief look of surprise cross Y/N’s features, clearly not anticipating the apology from the blonde.

“It’s ok, I don’t need to make such a big deal of things,” Y/N refused to look up from her plate.

Leah knew while the apology was accepted, that things were not ok between them. She considered how to proceed for a second, “and I need to be more aware of how I say things to you.”

They sat in silence again while both considered what to say next. Leah was doing her best not to just ramble apology after apology. She started just talking about her day, making sure to leave the conversation open and inviting, mentioning her mom had invited them both over supper one night.

“Sydney didn’t talk to me for two days once when I switched body wash,” Y/N spoke softly when Leah stopped talking, “I had run out and picked some up on the way to training, but they didn’t have my kind, so I got a different one. When I smelt different that night, she was convinced I had been with someone else and was lying to her about it. She was so mad.”

The out of the nowhere fight made more sense to the blonde now and her heart clenched even tighter.

Leah had commented that Y/N smelt different after training. Y/N had immediately begun frantically apologizing and explaining she was had forgotten her shower gel in her locker and bowered someone else’s. The blonde hadn’t thought anything of her comment until she realized how stressed it had made Y/N. As she attempted to apologize for upsetting Y/N, and explain she hadn’t meant anything by the comment, that she was simply stating that she smelt different. She had hoped that would be enough to sooth Y/N, but it somehow made the situation worse. Y/N switched from reassuring her it wouldn’t happen again to frantically apologizing for overreacting. Leah kept trying to speak over her, hoping to cut her off and reassure her that everything was alright, but she couldn’t seem to break through Y/N’s constant rambling.

And then she just snapped.

She wasn’t upset or mad or even frustrated. But for some reason, she just snapped. And the words came out of her mouth before her brain even registered what she was saying. “It’s been months Y/N, figure it out and get over it!”

While it had been such an innocent comment to Leah, she could see now why it set Y/N off to frantically apologize. She sat with the information for a second, considering how to respond.

“Thank you for telling me.”

She’s cut off by Y/N pushing her chair out from the table and picking both plates up, clearly indicating the conversation is done.

Y/N quickly rinses the dishes before loading them in the dishwasher, and Leah can see her eyeing the kitchen to make sure everything else is clean. Her shoulders raise and lower slowly as she lets a slow breath out and Leah knows she’s preparing herself to speak.

“I’m going to stay in a hotel for the night,” Y/N continues to wipe the already spotless counter, “I think I’ve overstayed.”

She takes her time to fold the dish cloth before resting it on the edge of the sink and turns around, refusing to meet Leah’s gaze.

Leah takes a breath to avoid speaking too strictly to the clearly nervous Y/N in front of her, “you could neveroverstay. I do respect that I’ve made you uncomfortable, but this is your home now Y/N, you don’t need to leave.”

Fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt, she takes another steadying breath, “I think, umm, I think it might be best that I move out. You deserve so much better than someone that freaks out over body wash,” she rolls her eyes as she finishes.

“I get to decided what I deserve,” Leah speaks firmly, but not unkind, “if this isn’t what you want, I’ll respect that. But I want this, and I want you. I will reassure you every day that I want to be with you.”

Y/N finally looked up and briefly held Leah’s intense stare before shooting her gaze back to the ground.

“This is your home now Y/N. If you want to leave for the night for some space, that’s ok, but please do not make any decision about leaving, or, uhh, or about us, about me,” she loses her confidence and trails off softly at the end.

The air hangs heavy between them. Leah having said what she needed to say, knowing saying any more would just make Y/N feel pressured. Y/N doesn’t know what to say or do now. She’s never been in a situation where her partner gave her so many options or freedom. Her first instinct is to run away, but seeing Leah’s steely gaze falter and her confidence dwindle makes her hesitate.

“I already have a hotel booked for the night,” Y/N mutters softly, finally breaking the silence.

Leah nods her acceptance as Y/N quickly make her way to her room to grab the bag she had already packed.

Y/N hesitates at the door, desperately wanting to ask for a hug and more reassurance that things were alright between them. Fortunately, the blonde seems to recognize what she wants and pulls her into a tight hug.

“I’ll see you at training tomorrow” she whispers softly in Y/N’s ear before leaving a gentle kiss to her cheek.

Leah is pacing the training door entrance when Y/N walks in the next morning, immediately setting her on edge. She can feel her heart rate pick up and she bites her lip, anticipating the worst. She stops a few feet from the blonde who’s finally stopped pacing, her gaze intense as she follows Y/N’s approach. When she’s within arm’s reach, Leah pulls her into a quick hug.

Leah stops herself off before she even starts speaking, snapping her mouth shut, her first thought had been to be upset Y/N hadn’t answered any of her calls or texts. She knew she wouldn’t be able to say it without sounding accusatory, that her concern would come out as frustration.

Y/N hesitatingly returns the hug, anxiety rushing through her. After their fight the night before, she wasn’t sure what to expect when she arrived to training, but it certainly was not the tense blonde meeting her at the doors. Did Leah change her mind about them? Realize that she would be too much and want to end things before training started? She could feel herself getting worked up the more Leah clung to her.

“Jordan called me this morning, Sydney has apparently been talking to a few of the other Villa players,” Leah decides to just get the conversation started, wanting to get it over with before either of them can spiral further into anxiety.

Y/N abruptly pulls out of Leah’s hold, confused why that would matter or why it would cause so much anxiety for the stoic defender.

Leah guides her to the nearest room she can find as quick as she can.

“Jordan isn’t entirely sure what all Sydney has been telling them, but she said that during their tactics meeting yesterday, several of them made it clear they are going to be very physical with you. Some even implied they are going to hurt you. Jordan and Rachelle are trying to figure out what she said and talk the players down, but it sounds like they’re pretty committed to taking you out.”

Y/N deflates into a chair. She wants to feel shocked by the news, but at this point, it seems exactly like something Sydney would do.

“We’ll talk to Renee, tell her what’s going to happen and leave you off the roster this weekend, not even dress you.”

The anxiety has left Leah now that she’s Y/N and know she’s safe for the time being. Now she’s just mad, not mad, utterly furious. The woman continuing to impact and now potentially ruin Y/N’s career, maybe even a Villa player if they aren’t smart about their play.

Y/N simply nods along, not knowing what else she’s supposed to do. Utterly defeated with anything involving Sydney anymore. She had felt so good after her and Leah had talked things out last night. She hated that they had fought, but Leah’s words and actions matched, giving her the space she needed to be upset and offering such a sincere apology. Y/N had been mildly optimistic that things were starting to look up. Sydney always had a way to ruin any optimism she had.

“Hey,” Y/N is brought out of her thoughts to Leah kneeling on the floor in front her, hands gently massaging her thighs, “we’ll figure this out, nothing is going to happen to you. She does not get to keep impacting your life.

The blonde hardly has a chance to catch her balance before Y/N is throwing herself at her. Pulling them both to standing, she tightens her grip, whispering softly in her that things will be alright. She holds tight until she feels Y/N’s grip loosen first, letting her dictate how long the hug is.

“Guess we should go get this over with,” Y/N pulls out of the hold, and Leah can tell she’s distancing herself and shutting off her emotions.

“Only if you’re ready to,” the blonde rubs her hands up and down Y/N’s biceps, “I’ll be with you the whole time. I’ve already talked to Renee to tell her we needed to have a meeting.”

Y/N nods, making her way to the door, focusing straight ahead, face stiff while she prepares herself.

Once in Renee’s office, Leah goes into detail about what Jordan had warned her of, reassuring that Jordan would pass this information on if she didn’t think there was serious potential of Y/N being injured. Renee nods along, listening intently, eyes flicking to Y/N occasionally.

When Leah finish’s speaking, Renee lets out a small sigh, giving Y/N a sympathetic smile, “we’ll put you as an excused absence. You don’t even need to be in the stadium if you’d rather not.”

Leah finally feels herself relax for the first time that morning, reassured that Y/N would remain off the game day roster, and would be safe from whatever attack Sydney had attempted to create.

“What do you want to tell the team?”

Both women’s heads shoot to the manager at her question. Neither had considered that they would have to explain anything to the rest of the team. It made sense to them, it just hadn’t been something they had considered.

“Uhh,” Y/N begins to stutter out, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t need to tell them anything, we can just tell them excused absence and leave it at that. But you should consider telling them something, they care about you too and will be worried.”

Y/N tilts her head, seemingly confused at the notion the rest of the ream would care or be worried about her. Slowly nodding, she seemingly agrees, “I’ll think of something.”

Renee offers them another sympathetic look before ushering them out of her office.

“Why don’t I speak to the team?” Leah offers for her, “I’ll keep it brief, just tell them that Jordan heard some players mentioning some retaliation for you leaving the club. If there’s lots of questions, you can answer what you feel comfortable with and ignore the ones you don’t.”

Y/N simply nods, knowing she has nothing she could possibly say to briefly explain the entire situation. And anything she would try and say would just lead to more questions than she is prepared to answer.

The morning training session goes over like normal, except for the scrimmage. Y/N being given a different colour pinny and being placed with the second team for it. It earned several curious looks, but fortunately no one questioned it at the time.

Y/N’s leg bounced up and down frantically as the meeting progressed. She knew the roster announcement would be coming up soon. It was already going to be strange that Renee would be announcing it so far from the game, but even more so the reasoning. And then Leah would speak, and then people would ask questions, and then everyone would know what was happening.

She had tuned out most of the meeting, she wasn’t playing anyway, what was the harm. Leah nudged her back into attention when Renee begun explaining that Y/N would not be dressing for the game. Heads all turned her direction, but she kept her eyes forward, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

Leah cleared her throat and stood up, “I spoke with Jordan this morning. She explained that there has been some chatter within the Villa squad for potential retaliation towards Y/N for leaving the team.”

The defender remained standing while the players all murmured, some shouting out a few questions, when they settled slightly, she spoke again, “in interest of player safety, the decision was made to avoid the risk and remove Y/N from the game day roster.”

More players spoke up, all asking valid questions. It was rare there was a formal announcement when a player wouldn’t dress.

Leah glanced down to see Y/N’s eyes firmly drawn to the floor, she waited a beat before beginning to answer questions in place of Y/N.

“Alright, slow it down,” she motioned with her hands for people to settle, once people quieted though, she wasn’t sure how to answer any of the questions without telling everyone about Y/N’s personal business.

Letting out a deep sigh, Y/N pushed herself to stand next to the blonde, “my ex is apparently spreading some rumours about me amongst the Villa players and because of that, some of them are threatening to injure me. Jordan gave Leah a warning about it, so to prevent that from happening, it was decided to bench me this week.”

As Y/N went to sit down, more questions were being called out. Leah gently rubbed Y/N’s back to encourage her to continue.

“What is she telling the Villa players?”

“I don’t know, but it obviously isn’t good.”

“Why is she spreading rumours.”

Y/N shrugs, “because Sydney isn’t a good person.”

That small statement quieted people again, most didn’t understand the weight of it, but a few could put together what she meant.

Leah cut off any more questions as soon as she recognized the few people that had started to realize the full reason Y/N wouldn’t be part of the gameday roster that Sunday. Making eye contact with a few of the other England, she knew they would have more intense questions later, they had seen first extent Leah’s relationship with Y/N had drastically changed; from being best friends to adversary's, back to friends, and now beginning romantic partners.

A few players remained, wanting to ask more questions, but seeing Leah’s intense gaze when they opened their mouth to speak, they chose not to.

Y/N found Leah leaned against her car at the end of the day, she looked effortless on the hood, chatting casually with Beth.

“No one is gonna fuck with you,” Beth says firmly as she gets into her car.

Y/N is shocked by the ferocity of her tone, but the blonde is pulling out of the lot before she has a chance to say anything in return.

“Hey,” Leah gently tugs Y/N’s kit bag off her shoulder, “how are you doing? Today was quite the day?”

Nodding, Y/N watches Leah put her bag in the trunk of her car, before looking hesitant with herself.

“Coming home?”

The blonde pushed herself off the car, clasping her hands behind her back to hide her anxiety.

Y/N simply nods, biting her lip, equally anxious as Leah. They both stand awkwardly, not knowing how to say goodbye, even though they’ll both be home in just a few minutes. Leah steps forward and places a delicate kiss to Y/N’s cheek, “see you at home.”

#woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson x reader

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m4vestu · 1 month ago

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Gingerbread Man - C. Sturniolo

-blurb sortaᥫ᭡

a/n: I've had this little idea for days now and I kinda hate it now but I wanted to put something cute out soon so enjoy!!

warning: not proofread

You had spent many Christmas Eves in the Sturniolo household, but this year was the first as Chris's girlfriend.

"Ma, wake up." You'd been fast asleep in Chris's room for hours before he barged in. "if you don't get up I'm gonna get trev in here to... pee on you." Chris was joking but he at least thought it would be enough to trick his girlfriend into waking up.

"what do you want Christopher" you managed to giggle out, being half asleep and all.

"Matt, Nick, and I are doing a last-minute gingerbread house-making challenge, and I want my baby on my team," Chris said that last part in hopes of persuading you to get up. You opened your eyes a bit more to see him walking over with Trevor in hand. He placed the dog on the bed in front of you and gave him a little nudge. "on the count of three, trev, just like we practiced."

You looked at them both in confusion, unknowing to what was to come.

"three...two... ONE!" Chris and Trevor both sent kisses all around your face until you were a giggling mess. "OK OK, -I'M UP, GUYS -STOP IT."

Chris pulls away and twirls out of the bedroom happy his little plan worked. You get up, throw on one of Chris's hoodies that lied on the floor, fixed your hair a bit and the mirror, scooped up Trevor off the bed, and made your way into the kitchen with the boys.

____________

"Chris!! the roof is slipping oh my god!" It was a battle between you and Chris versus Matt and Nick to see who could make the best-looking gingerbread house while one member of each team was blindfolded.

"It a little hard to keep the roof up when I can't see, baby" Chris tried over and over to glue everything and keep it together without falling before the timer runs out.

"okay we wont have a lot of time, so let's just decorate the outside." you handed Chris the piping bag with the pink icing inside and guide his hand to start drawing windows on the side of the house.

"I just have a feeling yours and Chris's house looks like shit right now" Nick yelled from the other side of the counter.

"I actually CAN see and let me just say you and Matt aren't looking so hot right now" You were quick to throw an insult back as this was natural to you after all these years.

"Bro what are you talking about right now, chris got y'all house lookin' like something diseased."

Before you could respond back to Matt's remark, Chris slathered a large swipe of icing across your face. You stand there in utter shock at what Chris had just done. He and Matt burst out in uncontrollable laughter, not seeing it coming.

"STOP what did I miss guys, I cannot stand both of you" Nick shouts unaware as to what's happening.

"no fucking way." you grab the other piping bag off the table and get ready to pour it all over Chris. Just as you are about to get him back, Chris throws his blindfold off and runs down to the living room.

You start running after him "I'm gonna fucking kill you" you say, ready for revenge.

"cant catch me ma, I'm the gingerbread man," he says now running circles around the coffee table while you tried to nag him.

Just after saying this, he tripped over one of trevors toys and right onto the couch. You took this as your chance and straddled his waist to assure he doesn't get back up.

Now that you've got him right where you want him, you pour icing all over his face out of revenge and spite. he reaches out to your sides and starts tickling mercilessly. Unable to keep in your laughter, you surrender and Chris wipes the icing off his face with his shirt.

With you still on top of him, he can't help but pull you into a kiss. You grab his face and deepen into the kiss, still giggling into his lips.

"You're a shit gingerbread man Chris," you say before going right back into the kiss.

He pulls away ready to say his snark remark before a pillow hits you both. You both turn in the direction the pillow seemed to come, seeing Matt and Nick looking back in disgust

"Can you freaks get up so we can finish the video please"

────୨ৎ────

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturiolo fanfic #sturniolo fanfic #matt stuniolo fanfic #chris smut #chris sturniolo smut #m4vestu

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cherrriie · 22 days ago

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the perfect sunrise · CL16

✦ characters - fem!reader x charles leclerc ✦ warnings - fluffy fluffff, suggestive, google translated french, so let me know if i have done any mistakes :) ✦ word count - 1.2k ✦ summary - Charles forgets your birthday so to make it up for it he kidnaps you to see the most beautiful sunrise.

A/N - The written birthday note here is from pinterest and is highlighted in italics. The pictures are curated from pinterest. happy reading ✨

Third Person’s POV -

You were currently in the hotel room. Alone. The silence and the ticking clock were killing you. You glance up to see the time.

“You’re late” you mumbled seeing it was already 12:44 AM.

It was your birthday. You thought you'd be surrounded by your loved ones and your boyfriend, celebrating like crazy till morning, but it was quite the opposite. You already had tons of wishes from everybody. Except for him. Did he forget? no it's wasn't possible. But as the time went by, it got very obvious. He indeed forget your birthday.

It was obvious to feel hurt. You weren't angry, but just kind of disappointed. You understand how demanding his career is but you had hoped, at the very least, that he would've remembered the day.

The distance between you—the hours spent in different time zones, the constant travel has already made the relationship a challenge.

At first you thought he was just pretending. It was the last race of the season so you thought maybe it must have slipped his mind or something. It was not at all possible that he had forgotten your day. But the fact that it was almost 1:40 in the night and he was still out somewhere you don't even know?

You had already dozed off on the couch waiting for him. When he was coming back to you, he ran into Pierre in the hotel lobby.

'Hey mate!' Charles gives a little nod.

'Oh hey! good i found you here. I was going to call you.." he says.

"Is y/n still up? because Kika wanted to give her a little surprise and she didn't pick up her phone so.."

"I actually don't know, I had gone out so... i'll call you." Charles nodded.

"You were out alone?" he asked.

"Yes?" he nodded.

"You do know what is today right?" Pierre asked again.

"Yeah, a Wednesday. What's the matter why are you asking so many questions?" Charles retorted.

"Mon Dieu Charles!! it's her birthday!" Pierre said with gritted teeth.

Then it finally clicked him.

“OH NO”

“TODAY'S DATE” His stomach drops as realisation took hold of him. It's not just any day—it's your day!

“Super travail d'oublier l'anniversaire de ta copine! idiot." he cursed himself. [Great job forgetting your girlfriend's birthday! idiot.]

“How the hell did i forget that.. I'm sorry I-” he shook his head to Pierre.

“It's okay mate. Don't worry about us. Good luck!" he patted his shoulder.

“Hoping you'll still be alive for the race tomorrow.” Pierre smiles and walks away.

In the fast-paced world of Formula One, he'd somehow lost track of one of the most important date. In the face of his mistake, he knows that mere words and gifts won't fix it. He has to do something meaningful.

You were still sleeping when he picked you up in his arms and carried you away from the hotel room to the car. You did wake up in the middle and saw the harbour. But you brushed it off thinking it was a dream. You clutched on tight to Charles and went back to sleep.

It was very early and with all those planning and preparations Charles fell asleep too. His eyes flew open abruptly after some time.

When it was almost 6:40 he gently rubs your shoulder to wake you up.

"Hey." "Amour, wake up." he cooed.

You responded in a little hm, not waking up fully. You wanted to sleep more.

"Y/n" he calls again.

When you didn't answer he started peppering kisses all over your face and neck. This time you did wake up feeling his soft lips against your skin.

"Charlie!" you giggled.

"Amour." he replied, his face still buried in your neck.

"It's almost time." he added.

"Time for what?" you ask, opening your eyes as you hear ripples of waves around you.

Instead of the white ceiling of your room you see the almost golden sky. You jolted up in thrill. You were in the ocean. Like literally in the ocean?

You look over the sea and see strokes of deep orange, pink, and golden yellow shade glooming over in the sky. The sky was lit and the sun was peeking out from the horizon. You could hear the sharp calls of black headed gulls from a distance followed by some other waders and seashore birds. It was so blissful. You look at Charles who was admiring the view before him. His perfect face looked more beautiful in the golden glow of the sun. His blue eyes were the deep ocean you'd want to drown into. You couldn't have awakened to something better on your birthday than this.

"You like it?" he asked.

"It's so gorgeous." you smile looking over at the ocean.

"happy birthday my love." Charles whispered in your ear.

"I thought you forgot. But you had this planned? This is the best surprise i can get. Thank you Charles."

"Cherié I..." he starts but doesn't continue.

"Yes?" you said.

"I am a horrible horrible boyfriend. You see... I um did forget your birthday." he said.

You didn't reply back but isn't just pulled his face and gave him a soft kiss, gesturing that you accepted his apology.

"Normally i would get flowers or your favourite cupcakes but it's very early so i'll start with this.." he says pulling a little piece of paper beside him.

It had small hand drawn flowers all over it with a little note that said,

"yesterday, i loved you. today, i love you. tomorrow, i will love you. next week, i will love you. in june, i will love you. on september 5th, i will love you. when i get home, i will love you. next year, i will love you. in five years, i will love you. for the rest of my life, i will love you.

happy birthday belle!"

"I'm not much of an artist but i tried!" he chuckled awkwardly, slightly embarrassed seeing his messy watercolour flowers on the card.

"It's so perfect!" you said, tears forming in your eyes.

"Hey! no crying on your birthday come on!" he said pulling you in his arms.

"Well it's not a birthday if you don't cry." you chuckled.

"Yeah not today, cherié. I have so much planned that you won't have any time to cry." he said.

"Can we please stay a bit more here?" you asked.

"Of course whatever you like!" he says stroking your hair.

"Your voice is so damn sexy. It makes me want to go down on my knees." you said, your head still buried in his neck.

"Whoa hey that escalated!..not that I'm complaining!" he chuckled.

"But it's your birthday so, i'll take care of you my pretty girl." he added.

"No! me first!" you protested climbing up on lap.

"This is so perfect. Thank you Charles." you said kissing his lower lip.

At the end of the day, it's not just the perfect race win or the fastest lap that matters alone but being with you, after every good or bad race — it mattered him the most. Coming back to you in your arms mattered the most. You were his home and he was yours.

#charles leclerc #formula 1 #f1 #formula one #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you

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imaginespazzi · 5 months ago

Text

Part 4: Warning Bells

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

I don't think I can do this again (do you remember it too?)

(In which a self-admittedly all over the place writer takes you on a bit of a rollercoaster)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, Angst, Pining (the usuals)

Words: 6.1K

TW: Swearing, Mentions of Divorce

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Guess who made a deadline again? I'm as shocked as y'all are but I do wanna just warn y'all that August is gonna be really busy for me so as much as I'm gonna try to stick to schedule, there's a pretty good chance I won't. I really appreciate y'alls feedback with live-reacts/long reviews and it's truly the motivating factor behind my writing so pretty please keep sending them. I did edit (as usual) but please let me know the most likely existent typos anyway. As always, let me know what you liked, disliked and what you wanna see next. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3

March 2033

Here’s what Azzi has learned about motherhood: having kids means that there will come many times in your life, when you will look around you and wonder how the hell did I get here. It’s that thought that’s currently plaguing her as she finishes hanging up the WELCOME HOME banner on the living room wall in her ex-girlfriend’s new apartment. And when she’s talking about kids, she’s not talking about her five year old who’s currently sticking purple hearts on every surface she can find. No, she’s talking about her 6’5 teammate who she’d once “adopted” as a joke in college, but who’s basically become her surrogate child ever since they’d ended up on the same WNBA team.

It had started as a casual conversation when Jana, as she often did, had shown up for an impromptu lunch. The topic of Paige was hard to avoid considering it was Stephie’s favorite subject, heightened by the fact that Paige was coming back soon and Stephie was far too excited to finally have her Miss Buecks back. Jana was more than happy to indulge the little girl in conversation about what Paige had been like at UConn. And if Azzi had lost herself in those memories for a moment, transported back in time to a world that had once been blooming with promise before wilting in a darkness she’d created herself, well, she’d done an excellent job not letting it show on her face.

The real issue had started when Jana had casually let slip her idea of surprising Paige with a little welcome party. And as Stephie had started reciting all the different things they could do -because of course me and Mama will help you Aunty J, Azzi had glared at Jana, only to receive an innocent smile in return that told her everything she needed to know. She’d been set up.

That’s how, instead of spending her Saturday curled up on her comfortable couch with a book in her hands, Azzi is here instead and in true fashion, she’s the only one actually getting anything done. Jana, who had just left about twenty minutes ago to pick Paige up, had invited some of the other girls on the team to come help out yet, something about more hands on deck. Those supposed helpful hands had spent the last hour blowing up and popping balloons and getting nothing else done.

“I can’t believe y’all have me decorating for the woman who cost me my first national championship,” Joyce laments, “I still have nightmares from that game.”

“You gotta let that hurt go Aunty Joy,” Stephie says impishly, mimicking what Jana would normally say whenever the infamous 2025 South Carolina vs UConn national championship got brought up.

“Don’t sass me Miss Stephanie,” Joyce sticks out her tongue at the little girl, throwing a purple balloon at Stephie’s head, “hasn’t your Mama taught you that we don’t mock people’s pain.”

“Ignore her Steph,” Tessa says, bumping her former Gamecock teammate as she shares a devilish grin with Azzi’s daughter, “she’s just upset she only won one. Some of us have two.”

Joyce guffaws, throwing another balloon, this time aimed at Tessa, “dude we’re supposed to be on the same team. What would Coach Staley say to you teaming with UConn people of all things to bully me?”

“She’d thank me for making sure you didn’t get a big head,” Tessa snipes back.

Whatever response Joyce has to that quip is cut short by the doorbell ringing and Azzi feels her heartbeat quicken as Stephie lets out a squeal, dropping everything to go answer it. Things had been different since the facetime call almost two weeks ago. They’d accidentally on purpose settled into a routine where Stephie would call Paige at exactly 7 p.m. and Paige would answer on the first ring, promising to stay on the phone till the little girl fell asleep. And it would’ve been fine if that’s all it was. But then Paige started staying on the phone till after Stephie fell asleep and suddenly it was like they were back to their teenage selves, talking about everything and nothing, trying to learn every page of each other’s story all over again.

Azzi had missed so much about Paige in the last couple of years but there was nothing she’d missed more than just talking to her best friend. She’d missed the way Paige would tell a story, going off on a million tangents in between. She’d missed the way her eyes would light up when she got to a particularly exciting part of the story, specks of gold shimmering in the blue like sunlight hitting the ocean. She’d missed the way Paige’s hands would be flying animatedly all over the place, even when she was whispering. She’d missed the way the blonde would pause halfway through to observe if Azzi was still listening, making sure all of the attention was still on her. And she’d missed the way that when it was Azzi’s turn to speak, Paige would hang onto every word like it was gospel, intently listening like she’d never forgive herself if she couldn’t recite everything Azzi had just said from memory. She’d missed the way Paige would let her emotions freely flicker across her face, because whatever happened to Azzi, Paige felt it too.

She’d missed and missed, convinced the pain would be the end of her, until she’d tricked her mind into forgetting. And now Azzi’s beginning to realize that remembering it all again, might just be the thing that kills her.

“Nevermind,” Stephie walks back to the room, sulking slightly, “it’s just Aunty Liyah.”

“Oh thanks Stephie babe. That makes me feel so wonderful,” Aaliyah says, walking in behind Stephie with an offended expression on her face, “and here I thought bringing cupcakes would make me popular.”

“Tell me those are store-bought Chavez. I ain’t trusting them if you made them yourselves,” Joyce says, side-eyeing the cupcakes.

“Trust me I would never waste my precious time baking for y’all ungrateful ass-”

“Aaliyah,” Azzi shoots her younger teammate a sharp look.

“-ungrateful people,” Aaliyah corrects sheepishly, “cupcakes because y’all clearly don’t appreciate me.”

“I pre-ciate you Aunty Liyah,” Stephie says innocently, trying to get a better look at the aforementioned cupcakes, “you got the pu-ple ones right? They have to be pu-ple for Miss Buecks.”

Aaliyah bends down to Stephie’s level to show her the box of sweet treats “the perfect purple cupcakes for your Miss Buecks. How come you never wanna do nice things like this for us Stephie?”

“Because Miss Buecks is special,” Stephie retorts matter-of-factly.

“Oh so we’re not special?” Tessa asks, raising an eyebrow at Stephie.

“‘Course you are but Miss Buecks is special-er.”

And while her teammates all pretend to dramatically gasp at that, shaking their heads at Stephie, Azzi feels like someone’s squeezing her heart, twisting and twisting but never fully breaking it. She wonders if that might hurt less.

It’s another 10 minutes later when the doorbell rings again and Azzi watches her daughter’s face break into an incandescent grin, filled with hope, as she rushes to open the door because it has to be Paige this time. Azzi follows after her, trying to keep her breathing under control as anticipation clings to her nerves. Azzi’s gotten so spectacularly good at lying to herself that she tells herself this next one with ease: there’s not a single part of her that’s eager to see Paige again.

“SURPRISE,” Stephie screams, flinging the front door open with as much strength as she can muster. She doesn’t give Paige a chance to react before she’s throwing herself against the blonde’s legs, hugging her thighs.

It takes a second for Paige to register what’s happening, but when she does, it’s Azzi she’s looking at. Everything seems to move in slow motion as they stare at each other, the reality of the moment suddenly settling in. Paige is here. In Oakland. They’re going to be teammates; they’re going to see each other almost every day. Just like they used to. Except nothing is like it used to be and as that bitter truth comes up like bile in Azzi’s throat, she has to force herself to look away.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie calls out, tugging at the hem of Paige’s white shirt to get her attention, “do you like my surprise?”

Paige tears her eyes away from Azzi, leaning down to pick Stephie up before peppering her faces with kisses and making the younger girl squeal in delight, “best surprise ever.”

And Azzi really, really, can’t watch this. Not when it makes her want to walk over and cocoon herself in with the two of them, makes her want to pretend that she’s living in another life, one where she hadn’t thrown away the chance of a happily ever after with the girl she’d fallen in love with at fourteen,

“Oh yeah Stephie, your surprise. Take all the credit. Not like the rest of us did anything,” Joyce rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, before pulling Paige into a one-armed hug, “welcome to the Bay Area Bueckers.”

Tessa and Aaliyah are next, both sharing warm hugs with their new teammate. Once they’ve had their turn, all eyes seem to turn to Azzi expectantly and the brunette blanches under their gaze. Other than Jana, who suddenly seems pretty heavily interested in the doorframe, the rest of her teammates don’t know about her past with Paige. So it’s only natural they’d expect her to greet Paige with all the cordiality of an old friend.

“Y’all good?” Joyce asks slowly, looking between the two of them, “do you want me to introduce y’all or?”

“Shut up,” Azzi murmurs before drawing in a deep breath and stepping towards Paige. She tries not to fixate on the way Paige’s jaw flexes when the blonde swallows, tries not to think about all the patterns she’d once carved against that little patch of skin because she knew it drove Paige insane. The thing is Azzi can’t even really remember the last time they hugged beyond a for-the-cameras one at a game. But as she wraps her arms around Paige, the older woman’s breath tickling against her ear as she grips Azzi’s waist, it doesn’t feel that much different from how it used to be. Paige’s arms are still safe and strong and Azzi still wants to melt into them. But what’s different is that Stephie’s in between them now, tiny hands securely fastened around both of their necks. And Azzi almost, almost gives into the feeling of belonging as she whispers two simple words that mean just a little too much.

“Welcome home.”

***

Seven pairs of eyes watch as the movers move box after box after box into Paige’s apartment, until there’s more cardboard than floor visible. The three non-UConn girlies are wide-eyed as they watch the pile grow endlessly. Meanwhile Jana is laughing while Azzi tries to hide a smile behind her hands as the realization that she’d have to unpack all of her stuff hits Paige in waves, and her expression grows more and more somber. Once the movers are finally done, it’s Stephie, whose hand is still firmly clasped in Paige’s, who breaks the silence.

“You have a lot of things Miss Buecks,” the little girl crinkles her nose, as she points out the obvious, “do you really need all of this stuff.”

“Of course I do Stephie,” Paige says indignantly and Azzi scoffs, earning her a withering glare from the blond.

“Aight well it was nice to meet you-” Joyce starts, slowly backing away from the mess until Jana blocks her way.

“Oh no you don’t. I told y’all we were all gonna help her move in. Call it team bonding,” the Egyptian says, her voice vaguely threatening.

“Most of the team isn’t even here,” Aaliyah points out cautiously.

“That’s not the point,” Jana rebukes, “alright team listen up. Here’s how this is going to go-”

“Maybe Paige should take charge. It is her apartment,” Tessa says slowly.

“If we put Paige in charge she’ll tell us all to go home and procrastinate doing anything until after the season,” Azzi says, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

Paige pouts, “hey! I’m not that bad.”

“Oh you absolutely are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“O-kay,” Jana claps, breaking apart the bickering, “it’s good to see the two of you are apparently younger than Stephie,” she holds up a hands a both Paige and Azzi start to splutter in their defense, “now as I was saying before being rudely interrupted. We’re gonna split this up. Joyce and I are gonna do the living room. Aaliyah and Tessa, y’all are gonna fix the guest room. Which leaves,” Jana smiles, and it’s only because Azzi knows her so well that she can read the menacing sparkle behind it, “Paige and Azzi to tackle the master bedroom.”

They both open their mouths to protest but are quick to get cut off by an excited Stephie, “I’mma help Mama and Miss Buecks!”

“Of course you are, why would you ever help anybody else? Clearly you don’t love us anymore. Not since your precious Miss Buecks got here,” Joyce says dramatically and while Paige smirks and the rest of the girls pretend to act mock offended, Azzi uses the distraction to sidle up to Jana.

“What the fuck are you playing at El-Alfy,” she hisses under hear breath.

Jana shrugs innocently, “the master bedroom is the hardest because Paige has so many fucking clothes so I’m letting y’all old heads do it. Some of us are below 30 ya know.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Azzi snaps.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about Fudd,” Jana says airily as she starts to unpack a box, leaving Azzi muttering curses under her breath.

“Hey-”

Azzi spins around at the soft voice, only to find herself crashing against a solid body. It’s instinct, the way Paige’s hands immediately reach out to steady her and it’s instinct, the way Azzi’s hands grab at the lapels of the blond’s shirt. Goosebumps trails up her skin as Paige's breath, hot and heavy, fans across her face. They’re too close; way too close and yet the idea of stepping away feels like a sin. Azzi gulps as her thumb accidentally brushes Paige’s collarbone and the other woman shivers under her touch. She thinks she could probably get drunk off the feeling of knowing that she can still affect Paige like that.

“You uh-” Paige swallows, fingers squeezing involuntarily against Azzi’s hip, “you don’t have to listen to Jana. I can- I can figure it out myself.”

“N-no,” Azzi stutters and she wonders if Paige feels a high from the way she still affects Azzi too, “there’s um- you have- uh- you have a lot of stuff. I can-,” she sucks in a deep breath, “I’ll help.”

“You sure?” there’s a vulnerable edge to Paige’s tone and any resolve Azzi could ever have melts immediately.

“I want to help,” she says softly, letting a small smile slip onto her lips.

The smile she gets in return is bright and sparkling, just like Paige herself and Azzi’s heart lurches, pleased to be the one receiving it, pleased to be the one who’d elicited it, “Good, cause I really wanted your help.”

Azzi shakes her head, trying to ignore the warning bells blazing in her head at the fact that they’re still holding each other, “why’d you pretend you didn’t?”

“I just wanted to hear you say it first,” Paige says, biting at her bottom lip. It leaves a light mark and Azzi finds herself wanting to soothe it over with her own tongue.

She thinks it might have been easier if it was just a little harder to fall back into Paige. It shouldn’t be so simple to fall back into late night conversations, so simple to fall back into easy teasing, so simple to fall back into feeling at peace in Paige’s arms. But it is.

“Mama, Miss Buecks,” it’s Stephie who breaks their bubble but instead of jumping away from each other like they should, they step apart only enough to let the little girl into the space between them, so she can lace her hands through both of theirs, “are you ready?”

“Before you go Paige,” Tessa calls out, holding up a clear bag of corner guards and edge protectors, “what are we doing with these?”

Paige shuffles her feet nervously, “you um- you put them on the edge of like tables and stuff.”

“Bro but they’re for people who have children?” Joyce says, giving Paige a weird look, “you have a kid we don’t know about?”

Paige’s eyes flicker to Stephie for a brief second and Azzi freezes, a warm realization tickling up her spine. Butterflies erupt in her stomach, their wings fluttering to the beat of what’s mine could have been ours.

“Of course not. I’m just super clumsy so precautions and all that,” the blond explains, shooting Jana a glare when the taller woman barely masks a giggle, “quit procrastinating by asking all these questions and get to work.”

“Has anyone ever told you the importance of first impressions? Because I’m telling you Bueckers, using your teammates as unpaid labor the first time you meet them is not it,” Aaliyah gives Paige a pointed look.

“This wasn’t even my idea in the first place,” Paige defends.

“True,” Tessa nods with a sickly sweet smile, “but you’re gonna pay for the pizza anyways.”

“I’m not pay-”

“PIZZA,” Stephie squeals, “Miss Buecks you’re gonna get us Pizza?”

“Yeah Miss Buecks,” Azzi smickers, crossing her arms as Paige’s stubborn retort dies on her lips, “you gonna get us pizza?”

Paige glares at her before she’s swinging Stephie up onto her lap again. And she really needs to stop doing things like that because it’s not remotely good for Azzi’s mental health to watch the way Stephie seems to fit perfectly in Paige’s arms, “of course I am Steph, what do you want?”

The two of them are lost in their own world discussing pizza toppings as Paige starts walking over to the master bedroom, until suddenly they're both turning around, looking at Azzi with identical expressions. And the brunette feels her heart tap out this could be my everything against her ribcage.

“You coming Azzi?”

“Mama, are you coming?”

I’d go anywhere with the two of you, Azzi thinks as she nods her head, a light skip in her step as she moves to catch up with the two of them.

“Of course I’m coming.”

***

Less than 10 minutes into trying to unpack, Azzi realizes that she’s the only one trying to unpack anything when she looks up from where she’s been folding t-shirts -trying and failing at not breathing in their familiar scent- to find Stephie decked in a colorful cardigan that goes all the way down to her toes, her feet clad in a pair of PB4’s that must be three times the size of her own shoes. A pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses hide almost her entire face as she strikes pose after pose and Paige diligently takes pictures of her.

“YES Stephie,” the blond indulges, “work it girl. There you go babe, hold that pose for me. You’re a natural in front of the camera.”

Stephie giggles and Azzi feels her heart constrict. Her favorite sound in the whole world has never sounded more like a signal for danger.

“Ahem ahem,” she coughs, narrowing her eyes at the two people in front of her, “doesn’t look like y’all are unpacking to me.”

“Mama Miss Buecks has so many pretty clothes,” Stephie gushes, completely ignoring what her mother just said.

“They’d look even prettier folded in her closet,” Azzi says pointedly.

Stephie pouts, “you don’t think I look pretty?”

“You look really pretty in my clothes Stephie,” Paige cuts in, tapping the little girl on the nose before she turns her gaze towards Azzi, “just like your Mama used to.”

The silk material shirt slips out of Azzi’s hand as Paige’s words drizzle around her, like the rain after a drought. It takes every little bit of strength she can muster to force herself to ignore Paige’s words and pick up another shirt to fold even if she can’t stop the rouge tint that colors her face. There’s this part of her that’s been dormant for years but every little interaction with Paige threatens to awaken it and Azzi’s scared that if she lets that happen, she’ll never be able to put it to sleep again.

“Just- just focus on unpacking,” Azzi mutters darkly.

She spends the next hour or so, keeping her eyes downcast, her complete focus on the task at hand. Because if she looks up, if she lets herself see the way Stephie and Paige are folding clothes together while giggling about something, if she lets herself see the way Stephie climbs onto Paige’s back so the woman can give her a piggyback to the closet to deposit the folded clothes, she thinks she could fall in love with this moment, capture it behind her eyelids and let it live there forever. But this moment doesn’t belong to Azzi. Because Paige doesn’t belong to Azzi. Not anymore.

Azzi’s taken away from her thoughts when she feels a tiny hand wrapping around her neck from behind, Stephie’s warm body pressing against her back and just like that, all the tension in her muscles seem to dissipate.

“What’s up sweetheart,” she asks, turning her head to press her lips against her daughter’s temple.

“Nothing Mama,” Stephie says sweetly, “just wanted to give you a hug.”

“Sure you’re not just trying to get out of helping Miss Buecks unpack?” Azzi asks slyly, pulling Stephie from behind her, so the little girl’s lying on her lap instead. She can feel Paige’s eyes focused on the two of them and even without looking, she thinks she knows what she’d find in them if she did.

“Of course not Mama,” Stephie grins and then squeals as Azzi begins to tickle her.

“I think you are,” Azzi sings-songs as she continues to poke at her daughter’s stomach, reveling in the way it makes the child laugh.

“N-no Mama stop, stop,” Stephie manages to wrench herself out from Azzi’s grip, darting to hide behind Paige’s legs, “Miss Buecks save me.”

“There’s no saving you now Stephie-bear,” Azzi roars dramatically as she picks herself off the floor, smirking at her daughter as she wriggles her fingers menacingly.

“You know what the best way to stop someone from tickling you is Stephie?” Paige says slowly, sending the little girl a conspiratorial wink.

“Don’t you dare-”

“You tickle them back,” Paige yells and Stephie eyes widen with excitement, “did you know your Mama’s extremely ticklish?”

“Paige no,” Azzi starts moving back, hands held in surrender.

“You started it.”

“Yeah Mama, you started it.”

“Paige. Stephie. Ple-” Azzi cuts herself off with squeal as two sets of hands start mercilessly prodding at her ribcage. She can’t get away, not when Paige has her securely wrapped from the back and Stephie’s pressed against her front, both of them laughing maniacally. They’re a mess of limbs that’s becoming harder and harder to tell apart as the three of them topple onto Paige’s bed. And Azzi thinks maybe she doesn’t want to escape it at all. She thinks she’d like to freeze them in this moment instead. Forever.

“Pizza’s here,” someone yells from the living room and it’s Stephie who stops first, immediately jumping off the bed at the mention of food, leaving Paige and Azzi alone. On Paige’s bed. Barely an inch of distance between them as they try to catch their breath. It’s Azzi who sits up first, smoothening the wrinkles on her shirt. And just as she’s about to stand up fully, she feels a hand circling around her wrist.

“It’s gonna be weird being alone tonight,” Paige confesses softly and Azzi feels her breath hitch.

“Didn’t you live alone in Dallas? At least after the divorce?” she tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice at the last word, a bitterness she knows she has absolutely no right to feel.

Paige shrugs, her shoulders brushing against Azzi’s, “I did but I knew Dallas. I don’t know this place.”

“What exactly are you asking me?” Azzi asks even though she knows.

“I’m not asking you anything. I don’t know if I have that right anymore” Paige says softly, letting go of Azzi’s wrist as she starts to walk towards the living room, turning her head back slightly once she gets to the door, “I’m just telling you I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

***

Damn Paige Bueckers and her vulnerable eyes and her earnest tone because Azzi would, really, really like to be enjoying her slice of pizza right now. Instead everything tastes like ashes as Paige’s unsaid plea rings in her head. There are so many reasons why Azzi absolutely shouldn’t give in, why she should grab Stephie, get into her car, drive home and never look back. This involuntary dance the two of them are starting is far too familiar to what they’d done when they were teenagers and the vivid memories of the day the music stopped and they’re feet stopped moving still haunt Azzi every time she lets herself think of it for a little too long. And she shouldn’t push herself into this fire again, not when there’s Stephie to think about, but there’s a tiny little problem. She thinks she might be addicted to burning in Paige’s flames.

So when the pizza’s done and the house is more or less in order, and her teammates are ready to leave, looking expectantly at Azzi, she finds herself leaping into lava, “um- I think Stephie and I are gonna stay for a little bit longer.”

“We are?” Stephie asks, a huge smile stretching the length of her face as she looks up at her mother.

“Yeah. Um- Paige’s bedroom still um- still needs some work,” Azzi tries to justify her decision, ignoring the heat of the blond’s eyes that seem to be perpetually stuck staring at her.

Joyce raises a perplexed eyebrow, “it looked done to me.”

Paige clears her throat, “there’s definitely uh- a couple more things that need to be handled.”

“It’s almost Stephie’s bedtime. I could stay and help-” Jana begins, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

“No,” Paige says, a little louder than necessary, “I mean you’ve already done so much for me today Jana,” she manages a smirk, “let Azzi pull her weight a little bit too ya know.”

Janna narrows her eyes but doesn’t push it. It’s oddly domestic, standing side by side with Paige bidding goodbye to their teammates, Stephie in between them happily waving at the people that are leaving. The warning bells get louder and louder; Azzi continues to do nothing to stop them.

“Mama, how long are we staying?” Stephie asks innocently.

“We um-” Azzi chews at her lip, finally giving into the temptation to look at Paige, “we’re gonna stay with Miss Buecks tonight so she doesn’t feel alone.”

The shrill scream that escapes Stephie’s mouth could probably break glass as she turns herself around to grab at Paige’s waist, “Miss Buecks I’m gonna stay with you! We’re gonna have a sleep-over.”

Paige laughs, kneeling down so she’s face to face with the little girl, “yeah we are.”

“Are you scared to sleep alone too Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks cautiously, cupping Paige’s face with tiny hands.

“Just a little bit,” Paige admits, leaning into Stephie’s touch.

“Me too,” Stephie whispers shyly, “that’s why I sneak into Mama's bed and she gives me lots and lots and lots of cuddles. Mama’s cuddles are the best,” she turns to Azzi, “Mama will you give Miss Buecks cuddles tonight too?”

“I uh-” Azzi swallows, taken aback by the question, “I thought you didn’t like sharing Mama’s cuddles?”

“I don’t,” Stephie agrees, “but I’d be okay sharing them with Miss Buecks.”

***

Azzi had planned -a loose term because really she hadn’t planned on any of this- for her and Stephie to take the guest room. Paige had been ready to give up her own room on the grounds of politeness. And Stephie was insistent that she needed to sleep in between both Mama and Miss Buecks tonight because it’s a sleepover we all have to stay together. Obviously out of the three of them, only one of them was going their way and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who that would be. That’s how they’d ended up here, dragging chairs and pillows and blankets into the middle of the living room to create a makeshift fort.

Azzi’s putting on the finishing touches, stringing purple fairy lights Paige had produced out of nowhere, when Stephie emerges from Paige’s bedroom where she’d gone looking for something to wear in lieu of pajamas.

“Mama look what I found,” Stephie beams, proudly pointing at the black t-shirt she’s found that covers her whole body, “it’s you and Miss Buecks when you were littler.”

It’s their SLAM cover t-shirt and Azzi feels tears prickling at her waterline as she’s met with the picture of a younger version of the two of them. Back when they’d been so hopeful and carefree, ready to take on the world as long as they could do it together. Back when they’d been 2 in a million.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” Azzi whispers, unable to stop herself from running her fingers across the version of who they used to be. She wonders what those girls would think of them now; those girls who’d laid and bed and pinky promised forever. She thinks they’d probably be appalled at the fact that Paige and Azzi had spent eight years barely speaking. She thinks maybe they’d hate her for what she’d done. She thinks maybe she hates herself a little bit for what she’s done to them.

Paige is leaning against the wall, her voice quiet when she speaks, “I couldn’t let it go.”

And they both know she’s not talking about the shirt.

“Can we watch a movie?” Stephie asks, diving into the fort and peering up at the two adults.

Paige recovers first, “yeah- yeah of course Steph,” she looks at Azzi, “do you- do you want something else to sleep in?”

“I’m good,” Azzi says, trying to inconspicuously brush away a rebellious tear. The shirt she’s wearing feels itchy against her skin but she doesn’t think she could handle wearing something of Paige’s. She scooches into the fort, leaning back against one of the pillows and Stephie’s quick to curl into her and Azzi absentmindedly rubs her hands down her daughter’s back. Paige switches on the TV, letting Stephie dictate a movie choice before letting herself into the fort, laying down on Stephie’s other side.

“Miss Buecks come cuddle,” Stephie demands from where her head is laying on Azzi’s chest. When Paige hesitates, the younger girl takes it upon herself to pull Paige’s arms over her, making the older woman lie on her side so she can drape her hands over Stephie's stomach, accidentally brushing against Azzi’s ribcage. Stephie lets out a satisfied sigh, lying back down against Azzi, crossing her arms so she can hold Paige’s hand with one and latch onto her mother with the other.

“Perfect.”

And it is. The sound of Stephie’s chatter slowly fading away mixed with Paige’s quiet breathing is the perfect lullaby and Azzi finds herself drifting off into the best sleep she’s had in years.

***

Sunlight peeks in through the window and Azzi groans at the interruption. Her whole body feels a little stiff, not used to sleeping on the floor like this. A quick glance at her phone tells her it’s 7 a.m. and Azzi’s just about to let herself fall back asleep when her eyes land on the two sleeping figures next to her. Stephie’s face is buried in Paige’s neck, one arm slung over her waist. Paige, mouth slightly ajar as she sleeps, has both hands fastened on the younger, holding her tightly against her chest like she’d fight the world if someone tried to steal her from her grip. They look happy, content, at peace. And Azzi can’t breathe.

The warning bells in her head create a cacophonous commotion that she can no longer escape. It hits her like whiplash that she can’t do this. She doesn’t know what had gotten into her last night, why she’d agreed to this, to any of this. But she can’t do this.

“Stephie,” Azzi whispers urgently, trying to pull her daughter out of Paige’s grasp, “Stephie wake up.”

“Az?” Paige asks groggily, stirring in her sleep, “what’s going on?”

“We need to go home,” Azzi says and she can’t bear to look at Paige.

“What?” Paige is far more awake now as she glances at her phone, “it’s 7 am Azzi. What’s the rush?"

Azzi ignores her, still trying to wake Stephie up who groans, “Mama too early.”

“Steph-”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice is firm as she wraps her hand around Azzi’s wrist, slipping Stephie off of her, “what is going on.”

Azzi grits her teeth, “nothing’s going on. We just need to go home.”

“Azzi-”

“We shouldn’t have stayed last night Paige,” Azzi bursts out and Paige freezes.

“Come out of the fort Azzi,” the blond says, her voice eerily calm as she stands up. Azzi follows after her, heart beating rapidly against her chest as she tries to keep the tears at bay.

“We need to go home,” the brunette repeats, struggling to breathe, “this was a mistake,” Paige flinches and Azzi feels a knife turn in her own hurt, “we can’t do this.”

“Do what Azzi?” Paige asks exasperatedly, still trying to keep her voice low for Stephie’s sake.

“This,” Azzi all but shrieks, throwing her hands up, “it’s too much, too quick and Stephie- Stephie’s getting attached and I can’t- I can’t let that happen.”

“Why not?” Paige argues stubbornly.

“Because these last two weeks she couldn’t fall asleep without you on the phone. Because you’re all she talks about sometimes. Because she’s gonna want you forever,” Azzi’s voice breaks, “and she can’t have you forever.”

“Az-”

“And you’re getting attached too. I see the way you look at her and it’s amazing but it’s not- it’s not sustainable Paige. For either of you. Because you’re gonna find someone soon,” the words taste sour on Azzi’s tongue, “and you’re not gonna have time for her and missing you is going to kill her and the guilt of that is going to hurt you. I’m trying to pro-”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Paige’s voice is hard now, eyes gleaming with fire, “you’re basing all of this on a hypothetical that might not even come true. You’re not protecting anybody. You’re projecting.”

Azzi reels back, “I am not projecting.”

“Yes you are,” Paige hisses, “you’re not scared of Stephie or me getting too attached. You’re scared of yourself getting too attached.”

“Mama? Miss Buecks,” Stephie’s tired eyes look warily between the two of them, “what’s going on?”

Azzi plasters a smile on her face as she picks up her little girl, trying to pretend that the truth in Paige’s words haven’t just made her feel hollow, “we’re going home Stephie.”

“I don’t wanna go home,” Stephie fights against Azzi’s grip, looking helplessly at Paige, “Miss Buecks I wanna stay. Can I please stay?”

“You have to listen to your Mama sweetheart” Paige says softly, heartbreak written over her face as she moves to press a kiss against Stephie’s knuckles, “but I’ll see you soon okay. I promise.”

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whimpers and Azzi has never hated herself more as she rushes out of Paige’s new house, willing herself to not look back. She buckles Stephie in the back, pretending she doesn’t see the way Paige is watching them leave from the porch, like she’d do anything to stop it. And then she drives away.

It isn’t until she’s safely in the confines over her own room, that Azzi finally lets the tears fall. And she consoles herself with the fact that it’s okay to crack her daughter's heart, to crack Paige’s heart, to crack her own heart, if that’s the only way she can stop their hearts from breaking altogether.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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purinfelix · 11 months ago

Note

Joao with actress reader 👀

just an act ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ - joao felix

pairing: actress reader x joao felix (established relationship) summary: in which your boyfriend's possessive tendencies are put to the test warnings: none! w/c: 1.1k

a/n: take a shot everytime i apologise for being ia challenge !! also this is a teensy bit rushed and i'm not entirely happy with it but, i hope it's alright !! tysm anon for the req (and for waiting for so long for me to answer it 😭)

“Joao, you’re sure you’re okay with it?”

“How many times are you going to ask me that?” your boyfriend huffed, “I’m fine! Really!”

“You literally skipped out on training to follow me to work,” you reminded him, with a slightly teasing tone.

“So?”

You let out a sigh for what felt like the hundredth time in the past hour and tried your best to maintain your composure. Around you, the atmosphere of an active film set roared with its flurry of light, noise, and movement. Neither your hair nor makeup were close to being done, and you were still standing wrapped in the plush white robe the costuming staff had given you before you changed into your outfit for your scene. Somewhere to your right you watched the director and his entourage of nervous interns scrounge around the perfect the set’s lighting, and push all of the cameras and mics in their right places. Behind you, your costar sat on his chair, waiting impatiently, ready for the scene the two of you were shooting today.

And yet, the only thing you found your attention being drawn to was the boy that stood in front of you, with floppy hair and pleading eyes and a pout that was just too hard to deny.

“So, are you sure you’re alright with this? With me kissing another man?” you repeated, slowly, growing more aware of how little time you had until the cameras were set to start rolling.

When you had come home a couple of weeks ago with the news - that the new movie you were starring in would involve a kissing scene between you and your costar - you were nervous, to say the least. You knew Joao was the type to value your career just as much as you did, and would never do anything to stop you from achieving your dreams. However, you were equally aware that he had possessive tendencies, as much as he pretended not to. Of course, he had acted casual about the news at first, telling you that as long as you were comfortable with it, he was too.

But now that the time to shoot the scene had actually come, it seemed like he was having second thoughts - evidenced by the fact he had insisted on following you to work and had spent the past hour or so hovering around as you got ready, expression equal parts nervous and stern. Despite this, you knew he’d rather die than admit how he really felt, even if you prodded him a thousand times just to say what was clearly on his mind.

“Yep! Totally fine!” he chirped out in a falsely cheery tone. The way his eyes flickered anxiously between you, and your costar waiting in the distance, seemed to suggest otherwise.

You could only rub his arm reassuringly though, offering a look that you hoped conveyed your gratefulness at the fact he trusted you enough to not get in your way, but also cared enough to be so watchful. Still, the staff around you waited for no one, and soon enough you were ushered back into your makeup chair, from which you watched your boyfriend linger behind the cameras, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

“Joao, baby.”

You were starting to feel like a broken record at this point.

The scene had gone well, and you had only had to reshoot it a couple of times because of either you or your costar forgetting or stumbling over your lines. But the two of you had done your best to maintain an air of professionalism surrounding the intimate scene - your boyfriend however hadn’t been so well.

“I’m fine.” His tone, and the fact that his back was facing you as the two of you lay in bed together, told you otherwise.

The kiss - or kisses as Joao had corrected you - had only lasted seconds, nothing more than quick pecks in fleeting moments. You hadn’t thought much of them before, during, and now after them but it was clear he didn’t share the same sentiment.

“You said you were okay with it,” you sighed softly, trying your best to push the understanding tone in your voice.

“I am.”

“It doesn’t really seem like it.” Whilst it seemed like the bare minimum for him to let you go ahead with something your job required of you, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for him putting aside his feelings for you - or at least trying to. A part of you found it slightly adorable as well, that he was trying so hard to hide his slight jealousy - evidenced by his moody demeanour the entire afternoon after you got back from shooting.

“What makes you think that?” You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely clueless or whether he was just messing with you. Struggling against your mattress, you pushed yourself up and leaned over to him, resting your chin on his shoulder - from where you could see his side profile, and furrowed brows.

“Hmm, I wonder,” you hum, fingers moving to gently interlace his fingers with yours as a silent way of saying I know something’s wrong.

“It’s just,” he began, and you felt a weight lift off of your shoulders at finally breaking through to him, “that costar of yours, Andy or whatever his name is, seemed a little bit too into it.”

You had to stop yourself from giggling, given how sincere his words were, but you couldn’t help but find his jealousy a little bit adorable.

“Joao, his name is Andrew,” you corrected him, “and he has a girlfriend.”

“What?”

“Yeah, and she’s lovely,” you chuckled softly, relief washing over you as you watched your boyfriend break into a small smile for what felt like the first time all day. You could physically feel the tension in his shoulders melt away as he let out a sigh of relief he must’ve been holding ever since you had come home with the news.

“Thank God,” he finally mumbled, turning back around to face you as he pulled you in close. You felt his grip tightly around your waist as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, sighing deeply.

“Plus, it’s not like he would pose much competition anyways,” you added, laughing softly as you wrapped your arms around him. He only hummed in response, not saying much more. You pecked the top of his forehead, relishing the fact that you had finally managed to heal his mood. After all, whilst acting was your job, you knew that at times like this - away from any cameras and in the comfort of your boyfriend’s arms - none of it was an act.

#joao felix #joão félix #joao felix x reader #joao felix x you #joao felix fluff #joao felix oneshot #joao felix fic #fanfic #football #oneshot #fc barça #fc barcelona #jet writes ★#purinfelix #jet answers ✧

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lilbitdepressed27 · 5 months ago

Note

Can you do a fic where the core four find out Tara is dating a really famous singer (Fem reader) and how Sam would take it?

Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader

WC: 2.3k

Author’s Note: hope you enjoy, and it’s up to your expectations.sorry for the wait

For the life of her, Tara couldn't understand what or how she got to call you her girlfriend. She remembered meeting you like it was yesterday when in reality it was six months ago. She remembered being in the library trying to study for her final exam, she had lost track of time. When she heard someone somewhat loudly talking on the phone.

The tiredness and the hunger she was feeling (that was making her head hurt) boiled over into anger as she slammed her book shut. Storming up to whoever was talking so loudly. (It's wasn't that loud, it was more of a whisper yelling. But she was irritated.)

"Look Max, I'm in a library. I'm just gonna check some books out and that's it. Oh my god, Rex is outside. Yes I know-Hey, can you talk a little bit quitter some of us are trying to study."

Her irritation was gone the moment you had turned around. Her jaw dropping and eyes widening at the sight of your apologetic face.

You hung up the phone the moment you heard the voice. A wave of embarrassment washed over you. "I'm so sorry that was my ma-mom. My mom. She worries. She's a worrier. Uh sorry I disturbed your study session."

"You're Y/n Y/ln...the singer."

It wasn't long ago that she was literally drooling over a thirst trap about you on TikTok. She gets way too many thirst traps of you on her for you page. Not that she's complaining.

Looking back at that memory, her face still flushed with embarrassment. She couldn't believe she had snapped at you. Although a part of her was kinda glad she did. Cause now here she was dating you. She was happier than ever.

Keeping the relationship a secret was surprisingly easy. With you being on a bit of a hiatus after a long, long world tour. You had so much free time. Time that she loved that you spent with her. Most of the time was spent at your own apartment, she had to lie a few times to Sam. Seeing as Sam didn't know she was dating you.

Being with you had been so freeing. She felt so happy. You made her feel safe, you took her protection very seriously. When going out with her, you always had your bodyguards with you. The men were always prepared and ready. Keeping a good distance to give you both a bit of privacy. Frank and Bill, the ex marine bodyguards were the sweetest but were not afraid to get physical with anyone.

You weren't either, you had gotten verbal with an older woman who wouldn't stop bugging her about the Woodborro's attacks. She had never been more attracted to you, seeing you curse out the older woman. Not even letting the woman get a word in.

"Hey baby, are you done studying now?"

Arms wrapped around her shoulders from behind. The light kisses you placed on her neck. Tilting her head so you had more room as she leaned back in her chair. Gladly accepting your kisses.

"You've been in here for hours, you need to rest. Come on." Moving the chair to face away from the desk. Turning the chair to face you. "Come on. I already got the bath ready for you, I also made us some dinner."

Tara couldn't help but fall more in love. You were always so sweet, caring, just so adorable to her. A completely different person than when you're on tv or with other people. The person in front of her, only she had the luxury to see this way.

"Join me?"

"Without question."

She did more than just relax in that bathtub.

"When am I going to meet the person you've been sneaking out to go see?"

It was late in the afternoon when she had gotten home. You were busy meeting with some people to talk about business, till late. You had wanted to make sure everything was set for your long hiatus that you were going to take. She knew you deserved it. After being on tour for almost two years, your world tour made billions and it was one of the biggest tours in history.

You deserved to rest.

So she had made her way home. Opting to just stay there so Sam wouldn't suspect anything. Clearly she underestimated her sister. Cause she had almost jumped a full foot in the air at the unsuspected voice the moment she stepped into the apartment.

"Jesus Sam. I thought you were at work." She tried to ignore the question as she set her keys and bag down before heading to the kitchen. To her dismay her sister followed her.

"Come on Tara. You know I worry, just let me meet them so I can see if I can trust them, and possibly have Kirby run a background check."

With a shake of her head and a laugh, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Tara you're my sister, I can tell when you're lying." Sam crossed her arms, as she took in her little sister. For the past few months she's seen the change in her sister. Tara seemed more happy, at peace. A complete 180 from how she was when they first moved to New York. Don't get her wrong she loved this change. Tara openly talked about the things that happened in Woodboro with her. Talking about wanting to move on.

But she knew Tara was hiding something/someone. She also saw the love marks on her sister neck that Tara clearly tried to hide.

"It's Y/n Y/ln."

A mock laugh was all Tara got. "Come on Tara seriously. Who's this person."

With a grin in return, "I am serious."

"Fine don't tell me. But I will find out."

You had been messing around with your guitar when you heard your doors lock unlatch and open. Only one person had a key to your apartment. So with you knowing who it was you put your guitar on its stand, leaving your studio to meet the love of your life.

"Hey baby." Seeing her was always such a sight you loved. She was absolutely beautiful. Even when she was clearly overthinking something. She had the familiar furrowed eyebrows and pout when she was deep in thought. Gently tapping her nose, her slight jump didn't go unnoticed. "What's wrong?"

Tara leaned into your embrace the moment you brought her into a hug. The feeling of your hand gently creasing her back. She just loved being in your arms.

"How do you feel about meeting my sister and best friends?" At the sight of your smile, her nerves settled.

"Nervous, but I would love to."

Tara had been pacing the living room for the past ten minutes. It won't be long till you got here. With you being a big artist, you always wore funny disguises to blind in with the normal crowd. It sometimes reminded her of Superman. Everyone knew Superman, but hardly anyone knew Clark Kent. Which also meant you were going to take a bit longer than usual.

"Tara would you relax. It's not like we're meeting anyone famous. We just want to ask her a few questions and then have Kirby run a background check." Mindy said from her seat on the couch, getting a bit dizzy from seeing Tara pacing. Anika was right next to her cuddled up to her.

She was nervous, it'd be the first relationship she'd be in with Sam around. And she wanted Sam's approval. Sam was her big sister after all. Sam wouldn't care if you were a big artist. It would still take her time to trust you.

You were absolutely losing your mind, you don't remember ever feeling so nervous. You didn't know much about the ghostface murders, let alone the stab movies. You didn't really like slasher movies. You didn't do any research, not even when Tara told you what had happened to her. You didn't want to come across any crime photos you were for sure to see. From the scars on Tara's body you knew her encounter with said ghostface (who also happened to be her best friend) had been gruesome.

You also knew that Sam was protective. And you couldn’t blame the sister.

So you wanted to make a good first impression. With a nice bottle of wine. It was also extremely expensive but no one had to know that.

You were in front of Tara's apartment door a lot quicker than you had hoped. You've preformed in front of thousands of people but these, these was your first serious relationship. Your first time meeting a significant others family. Since the start of your career you had always focused more on your music. Never focusing on the many girls that were basically throwing themselves at you.

Tara though, Tara was different. She made you feel so, special, in love. Cared for. She was your person.

Knocking on the door as you took off your hat, wig, face mask and glasses. The door opened and Tara's beautiful face greeted you. You could see the nerves in her eyes but one look at you and she seemed to relax.

"Hey gorgeous, I brought wine. I wasn't sure what to bring, I was gonna call but I was, I'm a bit nervous-Hey it's okay. The wine is perfect." Seeing how nervous you were she pushed her own nerves down. She knew this was your first time meeting a girls family. Something she found hard to believe. She could have sworn you had been dating Renee Rapp. But the blonde singer was just your best friend.

"Come on. Also they might freak out and stare, so be prepared."

You took a deep breath and exhaled trying to steady your nerves. With Tara's hand in yours. You heard people talking in the living room. With your hand in Tara's she lead you to the living room, the voices quickly stopping at the sight of you. You took in the way their eyes widen and jaws dropped.

"Guys this is Y/n, my girlfriend. Y/n those are the twins, Chad and Mindy. Anika who's Mindy's girlfriend, Quinn my roommate, that's Ethan and this is Sam my sister."

You forced your nerves down, the girl Quinn broke the silence. "You're Y/n Y/Ln." the disbelief was heard in her voice. Her eyes refusing to take her eyes off you. It was starting to make you a bit uncomfortable. The way she was looking at you was menacing in a way. Like you were some type of award that she was dying to have. It was an odd look. One that only made you feel so uncomfortable, a squeeze to your hand took your eyes away from the red head to the brunette standing to your side.

Sam had tried to hide her disbelief as she took you in. She herself had been a fan of yours for quite a while now, remembered feeling a bit of disappointment when you had announced your hiatus after your last world tour show. A tour she had sworn she'd try to go to but with everything that had happened the opportunity never came.

You offered a small smile at the tall brunette. She was taller than Tara which was a bit funny. Tara looked absolutely adorable standing next to her sister. Extremely tiny next to her sister and friends. The uncomfortable feeling you had with the red head being forgotten at the sight of your beautiful girlfriend. "It's nice to finally meet you Sam. Your sister talks highly about you."

At mention of that, it had Sam smiling but yet her eye brows raised. Tara rolled her eye in return but yet she was also smiling. As much as Tara told you, how they butted heads. You knew Tara admired her big sister. And based off the look the older carpenter had casted Tara's way. You also knew that Tara's opinion on Sam mattered.

"Thank you, although Tara hasn't said anything about you-Wait yes I did! I told you about Y/n last time you cornered me."

"I didn't believe you!" Sam quickly responded.

“Dude who would? Tara I’m sorry but holy shit Y/n you are a whole lot hotter in person.” Mindy said her eyes still wide in disbelief. Quickly snapping out of it when Anika elbowed her side.

Chad was the first out of the three to stand up, “It’s nice to meet you Y/n, you think you can get us to meet Beyoncé?” He received an even harder elbow to the stomach by Mindy.

At the sound of your chuckle, Tara felt herself relax leaning into your side. Watching you get along with her friends and Sam was all she wanted.

Getting to know Tara's friends and sister was fun. Even though that red head still kinda gave you a weird vibe. Thankfully she had retreated to her room. With time it had come down to just you Tara and Sam. Tara momentarily leaving to use the restroom.

“Okay so I know Tara is all about independence and her freedom. So all I’m going to say, treat her right, make her happy and we won’t have any issues.” Sam said, although she still planned to have Kirby run a background check. Yes you were a big star, and even though she was a fan. Her sister’s safety came first.

“I will Sam, I love you sister. More than anything. I take her safety seriously as well. And Tara told me you were probably going to have one of your friends run a background check on me.” At the sight of her wide eyed and the slight redness on her cheeks. You chuckled, “Be free to. I don’t hide anything well maybe my once obsession with supercorp.”

Sam let out a small laugh. Even though you were thee Y/n Y/Ln. it would take time to fully trust you.

#tara carpenter x reader #fem!reader #scream #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x fem!reader

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creedslove · 1 year ago

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Omg bestie imagine calling older hubby Joel to pick you up from the club because you’re too drunk to drive home yourself.

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: I love this idea, I just changed it slightly because I thought it would be better, honey ❤️

• you and Joel had broken up in the beginning of the year; you didn't see it coming, you were so happy with your man and you'd assumed he was happy with you too

• in fact, he was happy with you, he loved you dearly, but in his mind, he assumed it wasn't enough to continue the relationship, not when he worked impossible hours, was barely home to you, always too tired and with no energy, not to mention the age gap: Joel loved you, but deep down he knew you could do so much better

• he was convinced you deserved a man your age, someone who was fitter, who could spend time with you and build a life together, after all, Joel Miller had been through all of it and he just wanted to spend time relaxing and making ends meet, in order to have a comfortable life

• so he thought it was best for the two of you part ways, which you didn't take very well, in fact, it was so heartbreaking you ended up screaming at the top of your lungs how much you hated him in his front yard

• and once you calmed yourself down, you were mortified at what you'd done, as you felt so embarrassed and ashamed and you apologized to him hundreds of times and he just told you it was fine

• eventually you had broken up on some sort of good terms, he had told you you could always reach out to him whenever you needed to, but after that, you both had minded your own business

• until the night you went out with your friends and got hammered with drinks

• you didn't know exactly how, you just ordered one drink after the other and when you least expected, you were drunk

• and when you saw your friends, they were as drunk as you were and worse: insisting on driving, and since you refused to get a ride from them, and they refused to get a cab or whatever, they drove off completely wasted and you stayed behind

• but being that drunk at that hour of the night and alone, you didn't trust getting into anyone's car

• anyone except one person... Joel Miller

• so you called your ex-boyfriend and giggled when you heard his voice on the phone, it was clear he'd been either sleeping or he was about to, but the moment he caught you on the other side of the phone, he widened his eyes, worried something had happened

• but when you blabbered about how drunk you were and a little scared of getting home with someone else, Joel had already dressed up again and got his truck keys, asking for your location and trying to find you

• he would never let anything happen to you, at all

• so when you saw him parking, you walked to his truck, hopping inside and giggling, feeling happy to see him there, although the drunken buzz inside of you was constant

"you okay?"

"yeah"

"I'm glad you called, didn't want you risking yourself around with anyone, darlin'"

• his voice was soft and he placed his hand on your knee briefly, caressing it gently before turning his attention back on the road

• Joel didn't like the idea of leaving you alone at home, not with how drunk you were, he just had a gut feeling it would be better if he drove you to his own home, after all, you'd spent so many nights next to him, just another one should be fine

• you looked at him puzzled when you noticed he'd taken you to his house but he smiled comforting at you

"you'll spend the night, you take my bed and I'll sleep on the couch"

• he explained and you nodded, even if you didn't need explanations, you trusted Joel with your life

• once inside, he took you to the bathroom, handing you one of his shirts so you could shower and change into it

• he'd also made his bed so you could sleep on it, which you did for only a few minutes, being unable to rest away from Joel; you missed him, he was still so nice and sweet to you even if you weren't together anymore

• so you got off bed and walked downstairs, finding him asleep on his couch; you grinned at the view and decided to lie right next to him, snuggling him in the process and finally falling into a deep sleep

• Joel buried his nose into your hair and took a deep breath, even if it was unconscious, it was how much he'd missed it, and he also dreamed of you that night, having you both in his mind and safely tucked into his arms

____

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal headcanons #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller headcanon #joel miller headcanons

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foschiamara · 11 months ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTo my 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 fan.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤRicky × M!reader.

Summary: You and Quan have been dating since a few months after he debuted, and you decided to surprise him by going to one of his fansing.

Genre: fluff, curses (few), lovers, a lot of affection.

Author's note: This will be a unique chapter, + it was a request from days ago, It's a little short, but I hope you like it! ♥︎

words: +500.

"Please continue to love and support us!" Said one of the boys who was one more member away from Ricky and clearly everyone knew who you were. You were very nervous because you didn't know what his reaction would be, however your heart calmed down a little after seeing the next member, it was JiWoong, he immediately smiled at you and took your hands to caress them a little, you both had a very good talk, after all he was your closest friend outside of the Idol-Fan role.

On the other hand, Ricky would have heard your voice and made him nervous, it didn't take that long for him to start looking for you with his eyes and come across the scene that you were quite close to your friend, JiWoong, he became a little jealous now. It was impossible not to see the two of you beyond the fact that you were laughing almost out loud. You were practically very close to him, just a few meters away. A short time passed and you were already in front of your boyfriend, everything felt so strange, but you knew how to handle it and you took out a small gift from your small bag.

"T-take it, it's a little drawing I made for you, on the back there are some words that I always wanted to say to you" You said with a smile on your face, the boy would have purposely brushed his hands against yours and whispered to you in Chinese:��"I love you a lot, my love".— to which you responded in the same way, and now he was the one who took your hands firmly after having kept the letter in his pants pocket. Sadly, time was about to end, and he decided to sign the album you had on the table. Inside it, he left a small letter along with several hearts around it. After a couple of smiles before the staff let you know that you were finally done, you went back to your seat and enjoyed the last hour where they did nothing more than read some letters and dance to songs from other groups.

You had finally arrived home, somewhat tired from the posture you were doing for no more than 10 minutes between each member, however you were happy to have seen Ricky so happy. You were inside your little bubble until someone rang the doorbell of your apartment, you quickly got out of bed and went to the door, you noticed that it was the same boy who made you feel like you were in heaven. You didn't hesitate to open the door and also receive a big hug for him.

"I read the letter you gave me, you don't know how much I wanted to hug you and kiss you at that moment" Quan said after separating slightly from you, this to leave a small kiss on your lips. You smiled naively and began to leave several kisses on his face, which made him smile and let a soft laugh come out of his lips. "We're in a pretty private place, I think we can stop pretending that I'm just a fan who admires everything you do." You closed the door that was behind the tallest boy and broke away from the hug to take his hand. You turned around and started heading towards the sofa.

And so you two spent a fairly quiet night, you did nothing but kiss, compliment each other on how they looked at the meeting, hug each other and many other things. Finally, you both fell completely asleep, and you only got up for a short period to tell the boy that they should go to the room. "Baby, come on, it will be more comfortable in bed." Ricky nodded and took your hand to head to your room.

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2demondogs · 2 months ago

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With Chrismas around the corner (not really but basically), i would love an Arthur x GN!reader where Arthur proposes to reader for Chrismas and they obviously say yes because, well, it's Arthur, who wouldn't?

Anon did you read my mind. I was just thinking about proposal fics when you sent this ask because I have yet to stumble on one somehow... I'm sorry this took forever btw T-T

Shoutout to my platonic boyfriend for helping me with ideas because I got writer's block <3

Words: 3k oh my good lord Tags: canon divergence (it's just people leaving the gang a chapter early), Arthur does not have tuberculosis, INSTANT spoilers for character death, cheesy shit

It's been too long, you're realizing, since holidays like Christmas felt like special things. There is a double-edged feel to this one — it is the first since Hosea's death, since leaving the gang — but it is the first, in a very long time, that you've spent in the so-called right way: in a warm house with four solid walls and someone you love, how those fanciful books Mary-Beth used to talk your ear off about always wrote.

The house is warm enough, anyways.

There's work that needs done on the cabin. Some of the wood is rotting out and chipped at the corners, forming into sharp splinters that you've brushed against one too many times, but it is a house. You haven't had this pleasure since before joining the gang.

Sometimes, with how content Arthur seems at baseline, you wonder if he's had this pleasure since early childhood. On quieter evenings, ones less reserved for happiness than this one, there has been clipped discussion about how Arthur has never had domesticity like this. Silently, it was an admission of how good it is to share this freshness with you.

During a ride into town, he'd admitted that he had never picked up painting because it was the sort of thing only steady folks got to enjoy. You'd gotten him a set of oil paints when no one was looking — he's worth much more than a few measly dollars, but that means little if you haven't got them to begin with. Some habits die hard; he was happy you remembered what he'd said only a few hours before.

Come the new year, Arthur plans to find work that will pay. New things are a luxury neither of you care much to indulge in, but the repairs will take lumber and maybe a few extra hands. Ones with more expertise, at least, because Arthur's houses usually have not had foundations.

You could simply move now that time has passed, yes. You could find somewhere much farther away, maybe even New York, and pack yourselves in alongside the other sardines bustling about a city, undetectable in uniformity. Shave beards, got jobs, change clothes, cut hair and color it, too, if paranoia strikes— but keeping low to the ground has worked itself out so far, and there is no more of that deathlike stagnation in the air of this place.

Sentimentally, you think this Christmas will seal off whatever makes this cabin yours. Shadows linger, there's been a few odd creaks that've spooked the horses, and maybe it's going to shit a lot quicker than either of you want to admit, but it's your shit-house and the shared stubbornness between you has always brought you nothing but closer to one another.

Arthur is tired of running, and so are you. Last week, he talked about writing to Mary-Beth and Simon, maybe checking if Kieran — the utterance of the man's proper name was a confirmation of the last of that stockholmlike regret having worked out of his system — had broken and followed his little girlfriend. It wasn't said with malice, just some amusement.

"Why do you think he would?" You'd asked.

"Dutch only saves people who don't ask for it," he'd said, and that wistful look in his eyes vanished before you could ask what it meant.

Maybe it's the hard work that makes it feel like a real, true holiday. Pearson and Grimshaw stopped working everyone harder in the winter over the years, once the familial glamour faded with each new addition to the gang. It was no longer a tight-knit group, but a posse, more or less, of runaways and strays all against a big, evil thing like the rest of the world, or whatever it was that Dutch grew to fear.

Since November, Arthur has been saving the best catches to be salted and stored for Christmas dinner. Each addition is cleaner skinned and cut than the last, and the newfound worst of them ended up being ate upon his return from hunting. You've both been saving back herbs since summer, dried and ready to be crumbled into the heated up pot come time for a real feast. Cornbread was made by hand for the first time since you settled down here, drizzled with honey from the general store a ways out.

The latter was Arthur's only specific request for a fancy dinner. If you hadn't gotten him a single gift save for making it, he'd still be happy as a clam.

He's been putting that goddamned honey on everything. You're glad he seems to be enjoying things again, not as tightstrung as he was before you'd made off with him. That's how it feels, anyways, after the long and struggling conversations that were had before the decision was made. Family or life? It's a hard question for someone who has such little concept of either.

Now, the grey hair in his beard is catching the light from the fireplace where he's sat himself on a chair before it. They'd sprouted through the sun-bleached blond atop his head has been looking lighter and lighter in recent months, grey finally catching up to the discoloration and giving him some malcolored sort of tabby look. It's a good one on him, as much as he complains about looking old as dirt and that it's all formed by stress.

For all the lacking color, it adds a ruddy warmth to his face. Daydreams of growing old together find you when you focus on it, or on his wheezing laugh that's gotten worse with the cold weather. Despite the woolen vest he's been sporting, his fingers are as chilled as yours whenever they've brushed. Idly, you wonder if he's gotten whatever Hosea grew into, then remember they were never by blood.

Arthur hadn't wanted you to get him any gifts. When you asked if he would get you something, he'd flushed and changed his mind, apparently already having done it.

Whatever it is, it's good-sized, wrapped in one of the dustcloths you'd gotten him alongside the paints. He's been spending more time painting, lately, tucked in the treeline and looking over the cabin or deeper into the woods, studying something plein air the way those professionals do. He'd propped it against the wall this morning, and once you've settled on the floor before the fireplace — too cold outside not to crowd close to it — after dinner, he looks between you and the cloth like he isn't sure what to do.

"D'you wanna do the honors?" He asks, and grins although the twitch of his eye tells you he's covering timidity with faux cockiness.

"You go ahead," you say, half because he's closer. Tormenting him in small ways must be part of any good gift.

The painting is an image you recognize. A photo that one of the girls took for you months before things went down the hole, using the camera Arthur was loaned by some feller in town who wanted photos taken for a book. He never returned it, and it more or less became something he tucked beneath his cot and let the elements beat around. You can't remember, now, who it was or where he went to get it developed.

The little inkling of pride you felt knowing he kept putting off getting the negatives developed — not enough money, not enough time — yet was gone the next morning to have yours developed returns, now.

It's a much nicer rendition of it, your clothes not dirty and his arm around your waist, the other holding his hat to his chest. It's clear he preferred to give your portrait more detail, his own lagging somewhere behind in clarity and looking closer to the photo. You suppose it's easier to look at someone besides himself, but there's a clearer enjoyment in the lines of you, more care taken in the color mixes.

Ignoring the dense joy of the implications of that, of how obvious it is, proves difficult. Your cheeks twinge some from the wide smile before you realize you're even reacting.

"You'll be a big name someday," you say, and he may as well shrink in on himself beneath the praise, although he's heard it plenty of times before.

"Naw," he waves a hand. "Quit that."

"Really, Arthur." Scooting closer, laying your hands over his knee. He's moving his jaw when your eyes meet his, lays a hand over one of yours, heavy and warm. "It's beautiful. I love it."

"Good," he says. His jaw clicks. "I— uh, I love you."

The hunting knife you got for him seems small, though relatively equal. Arthur looks as pleased as ever studying it, half-mumbling appraisals of yeah, nice and sharp, sturdy to himself that likely would've stayed inside his head, if it weren't for wanting to show you he liked it.

A bone handle, which he feels over with his fingers before noticing it's engraved, fits easy in his palm. You were afraid you push your luck with maintaining its quality too far adding the tiny, vague bear shape next to the deeper cut of his name. Already impressive was the fact that you hadn't ruined it with the letters, being one of your first expeditions into anything of the sort.

"I would've gotten you one of those folding knives," you explain. "But they don't hold up as well, and I know you have one."

The army knife was Hosea's.

"Needed me a new huntin' knife," Arthur says. You know, because he's complained about his current one being close to snapping with all the skinning he does anymore. He squints at the handle, turns it over in the light from the fire. "Did you engrave the handle?"

"Yessir."

He smiles. "It's real nice," he says, pats his palm with the blade softly. It makes a dull noise, sturdy metal on skin. "Why a bear?"

"They remind me of you," you admit. Really, you'd spent a long time considering what else to add, because only his name seemed so plain; although he wouldn't be opposed to flowers or vines, they are a little more intricate than a simplified bear head. "Big and strong. Hairy, too. I'd like to hug one."

He snorts a laugh, but it seems thin. His eyes are fond enough on you that it couldn't be any rejection of your words, and so you brush it off. "You wanna hug a bear?" He asks.

"In a perfect world," you amend. "Don't they look warm?"

"You'd better stick to me," he says, smooths a palm over the thigh of his jeans. The nicest pair he owns, he promised you, because he feels ridiculous in slacks and seems to think you care what he wears.

Beyond thinking everything looks well on him, at least. You often find yourself concerned with that thought.

"I got you somethin' else," Arthur starts, running a finger over the bunched inseam at his own knee. "Well, uh— it's f'both of us, really."

Isn't that intriguing, you think, but your silent, undivided attention seems to make him outright nervous, so you say: "Oh?"

Some conflict happens over his face as he pulls his vest collar away and reaches into the inner pocket, takes out a stack of thin papers that he glances over before apparently relenting to something. Confusion finds you, until he takes a deep breath and holds them towards you.

"Read these," is all he says, and he sounds like it's almost painful.

He's written much, much more than that. Your stomach turns, once or twice, realizing they are pages from his journal. Uncertain why, until the first entries which are skittering on affectionate fade into ones much more flowery. They are all about you, days you'd spent together or times you hadn't, the things you've given him over the years and the things he wished he could've given you.

Each page makes your chest feel tight with a panicked joy, as if his hands were not fiddling with the new knife to occupy — distract? — himself but clenching hard at your heart.

One, near the beginning, says he thought of pickin' a pretty lil' flower, God bless it, I feel ridiculous; on the back of the next is pressed a variegated tulip, crumbling with age but holding firm to whatever adhesive glues it to the paper. Again, that creeping smile, like thyme. Another entry is entirely about your hair, because it had brushed his arm. Only a few sentences made up that page, below the cursive a choppy sketch of your horse.

Certainly, Arthur stays busy in his head. You've always known as much, but never figured any of it was about you. Not like this, anyways, though the dates spread from the week before Blackwater and you can only wonder what laid in that journal he lost before.

"Oh, Arthur," you start, looking up from a third-way through, feeling giddy but not wanting him to watch you so intently while you finish them. No wonder he was shy. It's his heart. "You're so sweet."

"Finish readin' 'em," Arthur says, doesn't meet your eyes at first. When he does, they're gentle. "They get sweeter, y'know, better finish 'em. 'Cause of that."

He is nervous. Hardly moving, besides the tongue running over his teeth beneath his lips, and the rambling every time he opens his mouth. You don't mind, never have. He's endearing like this.

Outings you'd went on infrequently, the dates of his favorites underlined, you're noticing, based on the tone of his words in them; his worries and fears about courting you, and some of what you mean to him though, with its succinctness, you have a feeling he wouldn't dare put all of his genuine love to findable paper; things he likes about you, and one page where he admits that he cannot keep himself from documenting you in every other entry, which tells you this small collection is hardly everything. The previous entries turn over in your mind again, and you are struck on a random page for a moment as their meanings take hold, realizing they were especially sliced from his journal to show you.

The entries leading to the last are what set your mind and pulse ablaze. From the first appearance of the word marriage, you swallowed your idea of what may be coming — Arthur's breathing changing beside you doesn't help any, and it certainly does not help that he leans down once you've reached the last page, plucking it from your hands. Before he does, you notice quite a few crossed out lines, scribbles as if he were frustrated with not being able to find the right words.

"Think I've got the balls on me to read this one aloud, at the very least," he says, voice laced with a chuckle. Breath comes uneasy, but you collect yourself enough to gather the pages back into a neat, ordered stack in your lap. "Unless you'd rather spare me," he adds, nudges your knee with the toe of his shoe.

"No." Your voice sounds strange, even to you. "Do me the honors."

Arthur bites his cheek, nods and lets it fall as he smiles. Still, his hand finds the back of his neck, the page held between two fingers that remain surprisingly steady. The knife lingers in his hand beneath it, and isn't it just like him to propose holding a weapon.

Propose. It takes its first toll on you, rolls over your back in shards of tingling.

"December twenty-fifth, eighteen ninety-nine," he starts, eyes flicking to your face every other word until the intensity of your gaze must make him too anxious. "It's a nice little life, livin' with the one I love," — rubbing his mouth, sighing some — "Jesus, I always gotta be sappy." You laugh, though it comes out more forceful than you intended, and relax some until he continues. "The thought of another day where anythin' could happen 'n' we ain't bound is somethin' I hate."

Arthur pauses, stands up and places the journal entry on his chair. You take his hands when he holds them out to where you sit, grunting when he hauls you off the ground with more force than you expected, feet shuffling into place to stick all-too-close to his. His hands are burning, skin feverish when you grab his wrists, as if you'd ever want to stop him as he eases onto a knee before you.

And his eyes throw you off balance, too, catching the light just enough that you can tell they are stinging. So are your own, now that you think about it, but intelligent thoughts go out the window once you sense him about to speak.

"I wanna be 'til death do us part," Arthur confesses, fumbles to catch both of your hands in his in an awkward, squeezing hug of a hold.

The way your bones catch on one another, well— it's not a sensation you'll forget, like the first time he kissed you and you felt it still a week later, warm pressure on your mouth if you got too lost in the memory. He looks as good, looks so nice, and you know your fingers would be shaking if he weren't crowding them together, steady.

When he says your name, the blood is rushing through your ears too loud to hear it clearly; you almost want to ask him to do it again. "Will you marry me?"

Nodding, face slack before it spreads in a grin. "Yes," you say. "Of course I will."

His is hidden by how he lets go of your hands, catching them before they fall in stupid, limp joy back to your sides. He lays kisses along the knuckles, all three rows of them. It's so awfully saccharine and yet you could never tell him to quit being sweet— not now, not as he stumbles to his feet after you pull him up and shake off his hold to grab his face, tugging him into a kiss.

Arms come around your waist, squeeze tight enough to hurt, or to hold in place. Arthur runs a hand over your back, breaks the kiss to slide a hand into your hair and press your face to his chest, caging you in his arms. He smells warm, like good cologne, and you know he's been planning this.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #gender neutral reader #neutralreader #arthur morgan #ask #oneshot #fluff #sfw #rdr2 #reader insert #proposal fic

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obito-in-disguise · 22 days ago

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| Arranged marriage! Itachi x reader |

-Will Itachi live or die?

Part 4 to this

This was ridiculous. Itachi was a fearsome warrior, people declined missions at the mention of his name in the brief. Yet here he was, sitting before her in fear, like a child who had broken something valuable. He couldn’t even make eye contact with her. Every time he looked up, he was met with her menacing scowl.

He couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it, though. He purposefully kept his illness hidden, only because he was worried. At first, he hadn’t told her because he didn’t think the marriage would even work out. Then, when it did, he became worried that she wouldn’t want to be with him after finding out he was terminally ill.

After his episode in the bathroom, he’d passed out, collapsing headfirst into the puddle of blood he coughed up. He slipped in and out of consciousness, briefly finding her crying hysterically over his body, shaking him awake. Her hands were stained with his blood before he fell back into unconsciousness. The next time he opened his eyes, he was in their bedroom, his clothes changed, the blood cleaned, and his wife standing over him, angry, heartbroken.

He really wished she would stop looking at him like that. He hated seeing her pretty face painted with such an angry expression.

"I'm sor—"

"Shut it."

Where would she even begin to wrap her head around this situation? Y/n couldn’t believe the nerve of the man sitting in front of her. What had he been thinking? That this would all somehow have a happy ending? Now that she thought about it, so many pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. The long hours he spent locked up in the bathroom, the overcompensating when the weather got even slightly cold, and the way he was always changing outfits, even when it didn’t make sense.

Before she knew it, she began pacing. Itachi watched her worriedly, his heart wracked with guilt. This was precisely why he hadn’t wanted to tell her, she couldn’t handle it, and he couldn’t handle seeing her so distressed.

"I’ve had it for as long as I can remember… this disease," he murmured, his voice distant. "It started out as a dull ache, then grew into something I couldn’t control." He paused, staring off, his eyes flashing with the ghost of painful memories. "I found out it was an autoimmune disease, my own body attacking itself. Quite ironic, isn't it?" He mused, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "At the end of the day, my greatest enemy was myself."

He rose from his seat and walked toward her, gently cupping her face in his hand. "Flower… I don’t have much time left. I’ve spent most of my life in pain. There were times I wondered if it was worth it to keep going…" His other hand rested on her cheek as he stepped closer. "But maybe it was, because it led me to you."

His expression was serious, his gaze unwavering, as if to leave no room for doubt. His thumbs brushed against her cheek, softly wiping away the tears she refused to shed.

"Am I supposed to thank you…" Itachi's eyes widen, his hands nearly falling away in shock. "Am I supposed to give you a medal for suffering because of me?" She rips his hands from her face, as though his touch had burned her. "What are you even saying, Itachi? Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?"

Itachi stood frozen, utterly disarmed. His usual composure was shattered. He had no words, no defense. He had underestimated how much this would hurt her, how deeply she would feel his actions. His hands fell limply to his sides.

Y/n's eyes burned with unshed tears, her fists clenched at her sides. "You think this is love?" She laughed, the sound bitter, as though the concept itself had been warped. "You think making me watch you suffer in silence is some kind of noble act? I would’ve shared the burden, Itachi. But you kept it from me, you kept me in the dark, and now you’re asking me to be grateful for what, your self-perceived sacrifice?"

"That’s not what I’m saying!" Itachi’s voice trembled, but she was right. He had spent so much time wrapped up in the idea that he was protecting her, that he convinced himself it was for the best. Now, seeing her pain laid bare, he realized how deeply wrong he had been.

"I thought I was protecting you," he whispered, more to himself than to her. "I thought… it would hurt you too much. I thought…" He couldn’t even finish his sentence. The weight of the realization crashing down on him like a ton of bricks, he was no hero. He had spent so much time wrapped in the idea that he was sparing her, that he had convinced himself it was for the best. They both stood there in silence, chests heaving, fists clenched, their gazes full of sorrow.

"I don’t know how to fix this," he admits softly, his voice quiet, almost defeated. His eyes met hers, desperate for some kind of answer. "I never wanted to hurt you."

Her mind raced as she registered the desperation in his eyes. She wanted to tell him that it was okay, that they’d figure it out, fix him somehow, but deep down, she didn’t know if she believed that. Her chest constricted painfully. She's angry, not just with him but with the whole situation, how helpless she feels, how unfair it is, and how much she wanted to be there for him but couldn't because he didn't let her.

"I… I don’t know either," she whispers. His shoulders slumped, and though he hadn’t expected her to offer reassurances, the emptiness in her response hit him harder than he thought it would.

"You’ve kept me at arm’s length for so long," she continued, her voice trembling, "and now… now I don’t even know where to begin."

Itachi opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, he was stopped, his chest tightening, the familiar burning sensation spreading through his airways. He gasped, his breath quickening as the hemoptysis episode started.

Desperately, he tried to turn away, to leave the room before she could see him cough up his entire bloodstream, but his body betrayed him. He stumbled forward, collapsing to his knees, clutching his chest as violent, painful coughs wracked his body. Blood spilled from his lips in thick clumps, staining the floor beneath him.

Y/n froze, her heart hammering in her chest as she watched him crumple to the ground. A scream caught in her throat. Her hands shook as she rushed to him, desperate, frantic. "Tachi!" she cried, her voice cutting through the room like a knife.

He didn’t respond. His breaths were ragged and shallow. His face was pale, contorted in pain. His eyes were wide and panicked, but there was something else in them, a look of resignation. It was as if he had already given up.

The man she loved, so strong, so composed, so untouchable, looked broken, fragile, and small. Her heart shattered at the sight of him, the last person she ever wanted to see like this.

Without thinking, she knelt beside him, pulling him into her arms. "Please, please… just breathe, Tachi," she whispered, her voice barely above a tremble. Her fingers pressed against his chest, trying to steady his erratic heartbeat, but it was like trying to hold back a storm. Her eyes blurred with tears as she struggled to keep him from slipping away.

Itachi, struggling for air, managed to rasp, "I… I didn’t want you to see this. I didn’t want you to… suffer." His body shook with each spasm of blood. "I wanted to protect you…"

Her lips parted to yell at him, to tell him to stop with this twisted ideology of his, but she couldn’t. Instead, she bit her lip to stop it from quivering. What if these were his last moments? The last time she would hear his voice? The last time she would hold him in her arms?

She mustered all her strength, pulling him closer, cradling his trembling body to her chest. She screamed for help, her voice growing louder, more desperate when he slipped into unconsciousness.

Concerned neighbors arrived, one of them calling the medic nins. Everyone stared with pity as Itachi was carried away, unconscious and too weak to even register what was happening. Y/n followed closely behind, refusing to leave his side for even a second.

At the hospital, the doctors were at a loss for words. His condition had deteriorated so far that they didn’t even know how to treat him. Just like Y/n, they were all angry at Itachi for keeping this from everyone for so long. But as per his request, his treatment trials were carried out at home, where he could spend what might be his last days with his wife.

Those nights, nights filled with shared silences, tight hugs, and whispered promises, were some of the only peaceful moments they had. Y/n held him as he lay on her chest, her fingers gently brushing through his long hair. Tonight, like many others, he let it down.

He glanced up at her, noticing the distant expression on her face. "Flower… is it me, or do you look extra beautiful tonight?"

She snorts, looking down at him and flicking his nose gently. "Ow! What? I was only complimenting you."

"Are you saying I look ugly every other night?"

She laughed softly, and he chuckled, tightening his arms around her. "Of course not. You’re always beautiful. You should teach me your secrets."

Y/n laughed again, the movement causing him to shift in her arms. "Look who’s talking, Mr. Lashes-for-Days."

Itachi snickered, his hand reaching up to tug at his long lashes before they both fell into comfortable silence.

In that moment, in each other's arms, everything felt okay. Tomorrow was uncertain and as much as it pained Y/n to think about it, she didn’t know if she’d get to hold him again, to joke about how he was always prettier than her. But right now, in this moment, he was in her arms. She flexed her fingers, feeling his flesh in her grip. He was here.

The future was uncertain but he was here, and right now that was enough.

Omggggg the end of this series. I'm emotional right now, I was going to abandon it but your lovely comments kept me going so thank you all for going with Itachi and y/n on their tumultuous journey. Hugs and kisses xoxoxo

Enjoyed the story? check out more of my other Naruto fics and more stories! Requests are open! and don't forget to reblog, like or leave a comment pookie♡

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literaryavenger · 1 year ago

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I just saw a skating show and one of the guys looked like bucky and now I NEED a yn × figure skating partner bucky one shot. With them working on a throw and he's all mad she can't land it then gets hurt and all the angst and comforting. Omg please I'll cry I love you! ❤️

Ok, I have to admit this was my first ask and I got so excited that this got a little away from me. I'd like to say I'm sorry for not putting much technical stuff about figure skating in it but I know really nothing, I did my best researching stuff but it's still not much. I hope you're happy how it turned out, if not let me know! I really just took it and ran with it, I really hope you like it. 🥹❤️

also, sorry it took me a little but my keyboard broke and I had to wait for the new one because writing on the phone I would've made too many mistakes.

On Thin Ice - Bucky Barnes x y/n Stark

Summary: you're paired with Bucky Barnes for an important competition but your negative feelings towards each other make everything much more difficult. Figure Skating AU.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!Stark reader

Warnings: Bucky being an ass. Reader gets hurt. Angst. Language cause why not. Minimal use of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 6.6K

Masterlist

Being a Stark isn't always easy.

Now don’t get me wrong, it’s not like you’re superheroes or anything, but being the daughter of Tony Stark meant that you always had to be not only on your best behavior but you had to be the best in general, no matter what you were doing.

It’s always been a lot of pressure growing up, but it's something you're used to at this point.

All your life there just wasn’t room for failure.

When you were little you hated it, sometimes even hated your dad for it, but you had to give it to him that it made you detail oriented and more driven and focused than most, so with time you came to be grateful for it.

His continuous badgering you into taking various lessons as a kid is also what led you to discover your passion: figure skating.

Skating was something that just somehow came naturally to you, and the more time you spent at the ice rink the more you fell in love with it.

You loved just spending hours going and going, to the point where the world blurred around you and you almost felt like you were flying.

After seeing how happy it made you, your father eased up a bit on you, but he still expected perfection, which you always worked hard to provide.

All you’ve always wanted was to make him proud of you. Which he was and never failed to mention, but you were still terrified of disappointing him.

All the pressure your last name came with was nothing compared to the pressure you put on yourself, you were always your hardest critic.

That is, at least, until you met Bucky Barnes.

You don't know why, maybe he just hates you and likes to humiliate you, but it seems like he always has something to say about your performances.

It all started the very first day you met, you were 18 at the ice rink your father decided to buy for you on your birthday the week before.

You were shocked to say the least when he told you, but he had always been better at showing his love rather than saying it, and don’t ever let it be said that Tony Stark didn’t love his daughter to death.

It was the same place where you skated for the first time when you were merely 5 years old, which you then changed for one closer to your home, but this one held so much more sentiment for you that the extra travel time was worth it, and it was also much bigger, the place where a lot of the important competitions happened.

The Saturday after your birthday you finally had some free time having just finished exams week and finally being done with high school once and for all, so you planned to meet up with Natasha at the newly named ‘Stark’s snowland’.

Natasha was also a figure skater and you two have known each other since you were 8 years old, participating in almost a lot your competitions together, which usually ended with the two of you in first and second place.

Then Natasha started doing more and more couples competitions with various partners, but you were still always there to cheer for each other.

When she texted she was running late, you decided to just wait for her on the ice so you went inside, put on your skates and just got lost in your head, glad that the early hour meant nobody was around yet.

Then, after having done a few easy moves and having just finished an Axel, you heard some clapping coming from the entrance of the rink.

You stopped abruptly and looked for the source of the noise when you spotted a brunette cheering on you like he was at the Olympics standing beside a blonde that looked kind of embarrassed by his friends' antics.

"Didn’t realize I had an audience." you said, while moving towards them.

"Well, you should with the way you move out there." the brunette said, shamelessly checking you out shortly before receiving a smack behind his head, courtesy of blondie.

"Sorry about him. My name’s Steve," the blonde said while you tried hard not to laugh at the look his friend was giving him. "and this jerk here is Bucky." He pointed at his friend, who seemed to suddenly remember you were there because he turned to you with a charming smile while you introduced yourself.

"Is this your first time skating here?" Bucky asked "I’m sure I would remember a pretty face like yours." he then added, making you blush.

"I usually only come here for competitions, but-" before you could finish talking you heard the door behind them open and Natasha screaming "Stark!" making the boys turn around to look at her.

"Romanoff!" you greeted her, laughing.

Bucky turned back to you, face suddenly all serious, which confused you a lot since he was all flirty smiles until two seconds before. He mumbled something about having to go and almost ran away as fast as he could.

You looked at Steve who seemed as confused as you felt, gave you an apologetic smile and went after his friend.

You didn’t have much more time to ponder on the sudden turn of events because Natasha was in her skates on record time and raring to go.

All you know is, for the rest of the day you felt Bucky’s eyes on you but every time you turned to him he had a stoic look on his face, and every word out of his mouth towards you was criticism on whatever you were doing.

And here we are now, 6 years later and nothing has changed.

Now 24 and having graduated college, you can be found at Stark’s almost everyday while you figure out the next phase of your life.

It’s honestly not bad, your dad wanted you to intern for him at Stark Industries during college so, after you graduated, you could start working for him full time, but that’s not what you wanted.

If you’re honest with yourself you do want to take over your father’s empire one day, just not yet.

You wanted to keep doing skating competitions, therefore all the free time that you had during college was spent skating. And so, as a compromise, your dad had you teach a few kid classes during the week when one of the teachers unexpectedly quit one day, and you happily agreed.

You did this for all the duration of college, after graduating you kept doing it and, to your father’s delight, took on even more classes to keep yourself a bit more occupied.

It was at the end of one of these classes that you were suddenly approached by Barnes today, which was very rare.

Usually both of you did your best to avoid each other, even when you started being there everyday, you wouldn’t give each other even a second glance, as far as you were concerned.

You’ve liked him when you first met him, but after months of him being nothing but an ass to you, you decided to stop trying and largely ignore him unless you were in a larger group that consisted of you, him, Steve, Natasha, Sam, another friend of theirs that you quickly became friends with, and Scott, a friend you made your first week of college.

Needless to say, you were baffled to see Bucky walk up to you and not immediately insult your behavior during the lesson that just ended, like he usually does when he gifts you with his presence. Instead he said "Hey Stark, can we talk?"

"Uhm… sure. What’s up, Barnes?" you say while starting to put down the cones you'll need for your next class.

"You know the couples competition that we’re having here in a few months?" he asks, following behind you. You think he looks nervous, which you find weird as Bucky Barnes is as confident as they come.

"Yeah, what about it?" You stop what you’re doing and turn around towards him, too curious to not give him all your attention.

"Well, I wanted to sign up, but it seems like I’m missing a partner.,," he says while rubbing his neck, almost embarrassed by what he’s asking.

"Don’t you usually team up with Nat?" you ask him.

"I do, but she’s gonna be out of town that day, and all the other girls are either paired up or not interested…" he explains, still not going to the point.

"Where are you going with this, Barnes?" You ask, crossing your arms in irritation at the time he was wasting while you still have things to do before your next class.

"Are you really going to make me ask?" he almost whines and, when you merely raise your eyebrow, a clearly amused face at his almost desperation, he finally gets to the point of his interruption. "Fine. Will you be my partner?"

Although you suspected where he was going, it's still a little shocking to hear him ask. Before you answer him though, you feel the need to tell him "You know I’ve never done pairs before, right? Not even outside of competitions."

"I know, but I also know you’re a fast learner." at your confused look, he elaborates "You’ve been training here for what, six years now? I’ve seen you learn pretty advanced moves in a crazy short amount of time for last minute competitions or even just for fun. And, whether I like it or not, you’re one of the best figure skaters I’ve ever met." he finishes.

That last sentence has you scoffing at him and starting to get annoyed at him "You don’t need to lie to me just to get me to agree just because you’re desperate for a partner."

"Why would you think I’m lying?" he says while having the audacity to look confused at your anger.

"You do nothing but criticize me all the time! The real question is, why would I ever think otherwise?"

"Just because I criticize you, doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re good!" he says it like was the most obvious thing in the world. "Please Y/N, I really need a partner, and, right now, you’re my only choice. Please." he adds at the end, just for good measure.

To be fair, Bucky had never been this polite or patient with you, and has never even called you by your first name, so it was clear that this was important to him, which is probably what led you to say yes.

He seemed happy for all of two seconds before going back to being the usual jerk, which made you instantly start to regret your decision, but you figured old habits die hard, you just had to be a little patient and he would get easier to work with the more he got used to this.

Boy, were you wrong.

For the next three months you met with Bucky three times a week, working out your routine and training sometimes even for hours.

It wasn’t anything you hadn’t done before, but what really annoyed you to no end was finding out that Bucky’s favorite brand of training seemed to be complaining.

All he did was criticize every move you made, right or wrong, even the couples ones you were still learning.

You also found out that being so close to him for such long periods of time made you clumsier than ever, which did not at all help the situation.

All it took was for you to be near him enough to be surrounded by his cologne and suddenly you were falling more than usual, missing your cues and straight up forgetting the next steps of the routine, which only gave Bucky more fuel to add to the fire.

It also didn’t help that whenever Bucky asked you why you were so distracted you lost all your natural Stark sarcasm and could barely get out a sound, not knowing how to tell him even if you wanted to, which you definitely didn’t, that he was the problem.

But you somehow made it through it and, with a week to go before the competition, you had it down to a T.

Or almost.

"Damn it." you say, frustrated with yourself, after you almost fall again on the landing of the throw jump.

The problem with throw jumps is that Bucky has to pick you up and quite literally throw you in the air and, while he does that quite easily, being so close to him right before he throws you disorients you just enough to miss twists and fumble the landing.

A thing that you’d never tell Bucky, which at the moment is giving the most annoyed look you’ve ever seen on his stupidly pretty face.

"Seriously, Stark?!" He almost yells while skating closer to you. "Why the hell is this taking you so long to get right? You’ve done harder things than this both by yourself and with me, so what the hell is wrong with you?"

Like always, you don’t quite know how to respond to him, not even wanting to acknowledge the cause of your concentration problem.

"Let’s just try this again." You say, quieter than you normally would, and get in position.

Your back is turned to him but you can hear him sigh before you feel him move and position himself next to you. You nod at Scott who’s controlling the music, and he starts again.

Everything is going great, until, again you fumble the landing, but this time you fall on your knees. You can hear Scott shouting your name, so you hold a thumbs up to let him know you’re okay.

You can see Bucky getting closer to you with your peripheral vision, but don’t look up or even try to make a move to get up.

You can feel the tears starting to form in your eyes, not because it hurts, but because you’re so frustrated with yourself for not being able to do this.

You’re trying your hardest not to cry out of anger when you see Bucky’s hand in front of your face, a silent offer of help. The last thing you want to do right now is look at his stupid face, so you slap his hand away and get up on your own, ignoring Bucky almost altogether and putting yourself in position to start again from the top.

Bucky comes behind you, but this time you can feel him looking at you while he says, "We don’t have to go again. We can stop here for today." his voice much quieter than it's ever been before, which only fuels your anger more.

"The competition’s next week Barnes, unless you want us to make fools of ourselves, we need to do this until I get it right." You snapped, letting him see you angry for the first time since you started training.

He was a little shocked but didn’t say anything else while he got in position, signaling to Scott to start the music.

All you can think about at this point is the disappointment on your dad’s face if you don’t win the competition, or worse fall like you just did.

You’re not even focused on Bucky anymore, in fact you’re so distracted that you don’t even make it to the throw jump before you fall, except this time you can feel that something’s wrong as soon as you hit the ice.

You can feel pain shoot from your ankle through your whole body and get immediately dizzy, you could barely make out the lights on the ceiling, your eyes going in and out of focus.

You can hear yelling and, once you concentrated, you can make out Bucky's voice saying words like ‘stupid’ and ‘incompetent’, which made you wish you had just passed out so you wouldn’t have to hear him insult you.

Your mind seemed to clear a little and you realized your tears finally started falling at some point, but you didn’t have much time to ponder on that before you were being helped to your feet, Scott telling you he was taking you to the hospital and everything was going to be okay.

You realized Bucky was no longer next to you before you even realized you didn’t have skates on anymore and were barefoot, but you just assumed he was too mad at you to care about your ankle.

You’re sitting in a hospital bed with a stomp on your left foot when your dad walks in, worry all over his face.

"Hey junior, are you okay?" you roll your eyes at his nickname, surely you don’t expect Tony Stark to be any less sarcastic seeing you well enough, but you’ve begged him to drop the stupid nickname which he refuses to because ‘but you’re just like me, it's a compliment!’

"I’m okay dad, just have to wear this for a few days." you say, pointing to your foot on a pillow.

"Good. Wanna tell me what happened?" he asks, taking a seat beside your bed.

"Just landed wrong while practicing the routine with Barnes. Too distracted, kept fucking up landings." you tell him, not daring to look in his eyes.

"Pushing yourself too hard?"

He surprises you with this question, but you promptly answer it. "If I was, I would’ve been able to land all my moves correctly. If anything I’m not pushing myself hard enough."

You can’t look at his face just to see the disappointment at your failure, but when you feel his hand on yours you force yourself to look into his eyes, and, to your surprise, there's no hint of disappointment.

"You know, sweetheart, I do mean it when I say you’re just like me. And there is nothing more heartbreaking to me than looking at you and seeing the same self-destructive tendencies I have reflected on you." he wipes a tear you hadn’t realized was falling from your cheek and keeps going. "I hate that I passed that on to you. I should’ve been more careful with you. I thought that letting you know I was proud was enough, unlike my dad, but maybe I should’ve been more specific."

"What do you mean?" you ask, sniffling a bit.

"I’m not proud of you because you always come first in competitions, or because you get the highest grades. I’m proud of you because I know you always try your best and put all of yourself into everything you do. That’s what being a Stark is all about. Plus you’re my daughter so let’s be honest, I’d love you to death even if you were a high school dropout who deals fake drugs to college kids."

You laughed while drying your tears, grateful for your father’s inability to stay serious for too long.

You hug him and say "Thanks, dad. I needed that more than I thought."

You let go of him and tell him about the real reason you couldn’t concentrate: the long-haired asshole with eyes so blue you felt like you were flying in the sky while looking at them, and like you were drowning the second he opened his mouth to say shit about you.

Of course you didn’t put it on those exact terms, but your dad was pretty good at reading between the lines.

By the end he had a smirk that made you want to legally change your name and run away because you just know he’s never going to let you live this down.

"Well, sounds like he’s really something." that’s all he says, weirdly. You eye him suspiciously but he doesn’t add to his sentence.

In fact, he doesn’t say anything more about it until he’s helped you get comfortable on your bed back home.

"You know…" he starts "little boys pull little girls’ pigtails on the playground to get their attention, because they don’t know what else to do." he says.

"Yeah, boys are stupid, so what?" you deadpan and he laughs then surprisingly says "Exactly. Maybe you’re not the only one that feels something here. Maybe there’s a stupid boy that can’t take his eyes off of you, but doesn’t know how to get your attention other than criticize you." he says, clearly happy with where he ended.

"Is this your long way of saying that you think Bucky likes me the same way I like him?" You raise an eyebrow at him.

"This is my long way of saying don’t be a stubborn Stark and try actually talking to him about this. You’d be surprised how fast stupid boys grow up just to keep the girl they want. Just ask your mother." and with that he leaves with a wink, leaving you wondering how much more immature Tony Stark could’ve been to have to grow up enough to sweep Pepper Potts off her feet.

You spend the next few days as a little ball of anxiety on your bed, not being able to do much but overthink about Bucky, only getting a break when Scott came to keep you company.

The day before the competition you've enough and convince Scott to drive you to the ice rink, knowing Bucky was probably there.

When you get there you can hear music but you don’t think much of it until you get right in front of the door and realize it was the song you and Bucky chose. Frowning, you open the door and what you see makes your jaw drop.

There they are, Bucky and Natasha, doing your routine.

You don’t know when you got closer to the rink, but you cannot take your eyes off of them, that is until you hear someone beside you say "they’re good, aren’t they?"

You turn your head to see Sam and Steve, the latter looking at you in a knowing way that almost seems apologetic of Sam’s words, the effect of which Sam doesn’t seem to notice.

You always felt like Steve could see right through you when it came to Bucky, always looking at you like he knew exactly how you felt and how much his words hurt you.

Seemingly reading all the questions swimming in your mind right now, Steve offers you some answers.

"Natasha came back early from her vacation. He brought her up to speed and she agreed to help him out. They’ve been practicing non-stop everyday since the day after you got hurt." Feeling like you have enough information, you turn back to the ice.

You watch them work in sync, almost like they're connected by wires and one can’t move without taking the other with them.

You watch as Bucky picks up Nat effortlessly and throws her like she's made of air. You watch as she moves so gracefully that it's almost surreal. You see her land every jump perfectly.

Again. And again. And again.

Every jump, every twist, every second you watch them something inside you brokes more.

You don’t know why, Natasha has been Bucky’s partner countless times before and it never mattered to you, and you’ve only skated with him for less than four months.

Maybe it was the fact that they're using the routing you and Bucky had come up with together, maybe you feel replaced.

Maybe it was the fact that you were coming here to talk to Bucky about your feelings and now you were seeing him flying around the ice rink as close with another girl as he was with you, maybe even closer.

They finish the routine and you can hear Bucky’s laughter, you can see his smile as he tells Natasha how perfect she was, how impressed he is at how fast she picked up everything, how glad he is that she showed up when she did.

Then it hits you.

Of course he’s glad she showed up. He never wanted to do this with you, you weren’t even a second choice, it took literally every other girl he knows to be unavailable for him to even think to ask you.

Why wouldn’t he be happy to have her back? He certainly never acted like this with you. He never laughed, barely even smiled...

He didn’t choose you, he got stuck with you.

Suddenly, it’s like everything he’s ever done, everything he’s ever said to you comes crashing down on you all at once.

It’s like you can actually hear your heart breaking and there’s only one thought on your mind: He likes Natasha.

It makes sense, the first day you met he seemed into you, right up until he saw her and the second he turned around he was done with you.

Maybe he started to be an ass just to make that clear, not wanting to actually say anything. After all, he always was very nice to Nat. To everyone but you really.

And it’s not like you could blame him, Natasha’s always been better than you. Growing up she was always your only competition, it’s a fortune you ended up friends really, considering how easy it could’ve been for you to hate each other.

She’s the reason you spent so much time trying to be better, and you’d like to say it was the same for her, but you doubt it very much.

She’s always been prettier, thinner, stronger, smarter, better with boys and at making friends. She was the obvious choice.

Of course she was Bucky’s choice.

You didn’t realize you were so deep in your thoughts, or that you were still staring at them, until you feel a hand on your shoulder and hear Sam’s worried voice asking if you were okay.

You look at Steve and Sam and all you want to do is get out of here. It was already a miracle you weren’t already crying.

Without saying a word you turn around and walk away as fast as you can with the damn stump on your foot. You aren’t fast enough though, because halfway to the door you hear Bucky’s voice, much too close to you to your liking, calling your name.

For a second you think you hear something seeming happiness in his voice, but quickly dismiss the idea and try to keep going, but then you feel his hand on your wrist turning you around to face him.

His face seems to instantly fall as he looks at you and all you can think about is how sick you are of being the only one that takes his smile away.

"What’s wrong?" he asks in a weirdly soft tone, but you can’t find the voice to answer him.

You two just stare at each other until you hear someone clear their throat behind Bucky, and you look over his shoulder just as Natasha starts talking.

"Hi, Stark. Heard what happened to you." she nods towards your foot "Sorry I haven’t been to visit you, we’ve been pretty busy."

You don’t look at her while you answer, turning your eyes back to Bucky, who’s still holding your wrist, while you say "I can see that. Don’t worry, Romanoff, I’m just glad Barnes finally has a partner that’s not incompetent."

All he does is stare confusedly at you, which makes you angry enough to yank your hand away from him, turn around and walk away, ignoring the calls of your name behind you.

You miss the sadness on Bucky’s face, or the way he questions Sam and Steve about everything you said and did since the second you entered.

Bucky, on the other hand, did not miss the tears starting to fall down your cheeks as you turn away.

You decide not to go to the competition the following day. It would be the first time you voluntarily miss one of Nat’s competitions, but you don’t feel like having a replay of yesterday’s show when it’s already been on replay in your mind all night.

Your absence doesn’t go unnoticed by your friends. Nat and Steve being the only ones that understand, even though they’re not very happy about it.

Another thing that doesn’t go unnoticed by the group is how much more agitated than normal Bucky seems to be.

Even during competitions, he’s usually very calm, but today the only thing that makes him stop pacing around the room is Natasha’s sharp ‘would you sit down’ that makes him sigh and sit next to her on the bleachers where they’re waiting for their turn.

He can’t seem to keep his body still as he starts to bounce his leg up and down out of nerves, and can’t seem to stop even when the redhead gets up abruptly with an exasperated ‘for the love of god’ and goes to sit further from him and near Sam, exchanging seats with Steve, who puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, effectively bringing out of his head and making his body still with another sigh.

"You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to." Steve tells his anxious friend.

"You know I have to Steve. Otherwise Fury won't let me do other couples competitions."

"I know, but the whole reason you started doing them was for the chance to pair up with Y/N, which never even happened until now." Steve points out while frowning.

"I’m not the one that chooses the pairs, Rogers, it’s always Fury. He’s the whole reason Romanoff and I worked so hard this week just so she could do this. Plus Y/N’s never been interested in these competitions so this whole idea was just stupid to begin with. Now after I finally convince her, she gets hurt and thinks I think she’s incompetent, for some reason." Bucky hasn't been able to stop thinking about what you said yesterday.

Why would you ever think he thinks you're incompetent? He knows he's been a dick to you for years, but never has he ever said you were incompetent.

It's really just constructive criticism given in a poor way. A very poor way... Yeah, he really just has himself to blame for the way you feel about him now, he knows it.

He doesn't even really have a justification for it, either. If he's being honest with himself, he's intimidated by you.

The first time he saw you he thought you were the most beautiful girl he's ever seen, you were so graceful on skates and looked like you were exactly where you belong, lost in your own little world.

Then when Natasha said your name, he realized who he was talking to: the daughter of one of the richest families in town.

He'd heard a lot about you and your family, your impressive achievements on and off the ice. He's ashamed to say he felt small all of a sudden, knowing just from hearing about you that he'd never be good enough for you.

Still, he couldn't help but be drawn to you, couldn't help but watch you as much as he could get away with, but the only way he could justify that without being seen as a creep was to criticize what you did. It made sense, right?

Bucky is pulled from his thoughts, again, by Steve’s voice.

"Well, you were basically yelling that at her when she got hurt last week." at his words Bucky's just as confused as he was yesterday when you stormed out.

"I didn’t…" then it hits him. "I wasn’t talking about her! I was talking about Scott because he wouldn’t hurry up!"

"Oh. Listen, buddy, we both know you like her. You fucked up, big time, and it’s gonna take a lot to get her to forgive you. You could start by stop being an ass to her and apologize." Bucky knows the blonde is right.

It will take a miracle just to get you to look in his direction, let alone allow him to apologize, but he has to at least try to make things right.

He stands up suddenly, startling Steve, and says, "you were there for all our rehearsals, right? You know the routine?"

Steve is confused, but answers with a slow "yeah, why?" but Bucky gives no further explanation, too busy picking up all his stuff.

When Steve puts together what his friend is hinting at, he quickly says "I didn’t mean right now!"

"No time like the present! Go change." he says, nudging Steve toward the changing rooms.

"Buck, if you go now Fury’s gonna kill you!"

"I don’t care!" he yells, basically running out the door and ignoring Natasha yelling his name, the only thing on his mind being running to you as fast as he could.

Every thought in his head, though, is instantly forgotten as he comes to a sudden stop at the top of the stairs outside of the rink.

There, at the bottom, is you, looking just as shocked at seeing him there as he feels.

After a few moments of just looking at each other, you can’t take it anymore and decide to break the silence. "I didn’t know if I should come in. Didn’t know if Nat wanted my support after I was so rude, you know."

When he doesn’t say anything and just stares at you, you feel the need to keep going.

"What are you doing out here? Did I miss your turn? How did it go?" that seems to snap him out of it and he starts to move towards you, still not saying anything and making you even more nervous as you start regretting coming here.

When he comes face to face with you, finally, he speaks. "I was gonna come looking for you." your brows furrowed in confusion.

"why?"

"I have owed you an apology for a long time now. I’m sorry for being a dick to you for all these years… it really wasn’t about you. I just felt insecure and acted out about it, and eventually I felt so used to it I couldn’t help it..."

You were shocked to say the least, this was the last thing you were expecting tonight. "You felt insecure? Why?"

"Because you’re you!" he almost yelled, gesturing to your whole body and startling you a bit. "I mean you’re a Stark, you’re kind of a legend who lives up to the legend. You’re smart and talented and confident and beautiful. I never thought I’d be good enough for you... I still don’t."

You don't know what to say, but you aren't running for the hills so Bucky keeps talking. "I’d also like to make it clear that I’ve never called you incompetent. I was talking about Lang, that idiot took ages to get his keys to drive you to the hospital. I didn’t even realize you might’ve heard me until Steve pointed it out to me just now while we were waiting our turn and I just had to find you and tell you."

Once everything he said actually registered in your brain, the words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. "Wait, you left the competition to come find me? Natasha’s gonna kill you!"

He chuckles a little while saying, "I’d be more worried about Fury."

"Fury?" You're confused again. "Why would you be worried about Fury?"

"He’s gonna be pissed that I left. He’s the whole reason Romanoff and I trained so hard to make it here, I wanted to skip it after you got hurt, but he said if I did he wouldn’t let me do any more pairs."

"I thought this competition was important to you, that’s the whole reason I said yes. And you wanted to quit it?" You're more confused than ever.

"It was important because it was my chance to finally spend time with you." he says, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I’d rather not do our routine at all if I can’t do it with you." he adds, shrugging.

"really?" you can’t help but smile at hearing him say ‘our routine’ "But you and Nat work much better than you and I do."

"perphabs, but I still think you’re the best there is. Even when it’s with me, a person you hate." He says the last part while looking at his feet, almost afraid of saying it aloud and perfectly aware that he’s the reason why.

"I don’t hate you." you say, almost too fast.

His eyes snap back up to yours. "You don’t? I mean, I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I’d hate me if I were you."

"Sure, I don’t always love the things you say about my skills, but you’ll never criticize me more than I criticize myself. Mostly, you’re just a distraction." you say shrugging, not fully realizing what you just confessed.

"I distract you?" he says with a smug smirk that kind of makes you want to punch him, bringing his hand to your cheek.

You groan but let him keep it there, loving the feeling of his warm hand against your skin. "Don’t get cocky with me, Barnes."

He laughs, but doesn’t say anything else waiting for you to elaborate with an expectant look.

"Fine." you sigh. "Yes, you distract me. You might be a jerk, but I can’t concentrate when I’m around you. All I can think about is the sound of your voice, and the way you smell and the color of your stupid pretty eyes... I can’t help but like you, no matter how much of an asshole you are to me, for reasons I’m sure have something to do with my father."

He laughs again at your last sentence and you swear you’d never heard a better sound. "So I guess I should be thankful for you daddy issues, huh." he says making you laugh with him.

"Yeah, you very much should be." you put your arms around his neck when his hand drops from your face and his arms wrap around your waist.

"You distract me too, you know. Everytime you’re in the room you’re all I can see..." He sighs. "I’ll never apologize enough for all the things I said to you, but let me try. Let me take you on a date, for starters."

You pretend to think about it all of two seconds before you’re nodding with a smile, so he adds, "What about right now?"

"Slow down there, Romeo, why don’t we go cheer on our friends first." you giggle at his pout while you take his hand and lead the way inside.

When you take a seat next to Sam, just in time to hear the announcement of Natasha and Steve’s names, there's no wiping the smile off of Bucky’s face. His arm goes immediately around your shoulders to bring you closer as you greet Sam that had a knowing grin of his own.

You watch your friends go through the routine perfectly, to your joy and surprise. You really are proud of them, and you make sure to tell them when they are close enough to the edge of the ice while waiting for their score.

"Maybe after we can all go out to eat something." Steve suggests, still slightly out of breath.

"I’m sorry, punk. I have a date that I’m not missing for anything in the world." Bucky answers without taking his eyes away from you, his smile seared onto his face.

Steve chuckles at how whipped his friend already seems to be, moving closer to the judges with Nat when it was time for their scores.

Second place, not bad for a last minute thing.

As you cheer for your friends while they're given their medals, Bucky leans down and whispers in your ear "we would’ve come first."

You burst laughing and Bucky known in this exact moment that he would do anything to hear that sweet sound for the rest of his life.

You look up at him and raise your voice just enough for him to hear over all the screaming, with a smile big enough to match his "We totally would’ve."

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drdemonprince · 4 months ago

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i read in the comments to my last ask about "ordinary unhappiness" the idea of depression as a lack of agency and i feel like that is true? when i feel miserable and in pain, it's not because something is sad but because something is either unachievable or impossible (or at least there is the perception of it). and like i think that's what you were getting at too? this thing that drives you to keep going, this lack of satisfaction. i simply don't have anything i can give into such that i would ever even feel a lack of satisfaction. i've never had anything to give myself into and feel frustrated and perhaps sometimes successful in but instead i just envy the people who do have those things. nothing i've ever done has felt maintained a sense of emotional connectiveness in that way (positive or negative). i guess to wrap this back around to another potential talking point, i'm curious how you find that in your life? is it weird for me that nothing has ever felt worth putting myself whole ass into? idk, i find it envious you've got both writing and gay hypno fetish stuff you're able to just throw yourself into so wholly and utterly

Passion isn't inherent, it can be a choice too. I only look like I care a ton about writing and gay hypno stuff because I have deliberately chosen to pursue those passions, for many years, and cultivated a deep interest in them, anon.

When I was in my early twenties, I felt completely empty. I was a void. If you've read the first chapter of Unmasking Autism, this is the period I'm talking about in that book. I went away to graduate school (because I was good at academics, and I had some illusions about what a career in that field would do for me), but I had absolutely zero zest for the subject of psychology at that point. I had no research ideas. I read psychology books and publications purely out of obligation. I did what was required of me, but nothing additional beyond that, and I spent the rest of my time sitting at home, sometimes literally staring at the wall and crying. I had no friends or hobbies, aside from taking long, long depression walks listening to podcasts in order to fill the silence.

This was when I was at my most depressed, and my most suicidal. Just existing was a pain. I'd sob in bed at night and cry out begging for God to kill me, and I didn't even believe in God. The only thing that distracted me from my pain was a guy I was seeing, who was beautiful and very cruel and inconsistent, and I clung to him through all kinds of lies and abuse because it felt as though my happiness was located inside of him.

I had a friend that I wrote to about how miserable I was, and all the twists and turns that my horrible romance was taking. Her name was Heather. (Unlearning Shame is dedicated to her). She told me hey, you're a really good writer, did you know that? I really enjoy reading your emails, even when you're speaking about the most pitiful anguished shit, you really put it poetically and have a ton of insight. You should write more.

For a while, I ignored her. I didn't care about writing. I just wanted to get my pain out on the page because I had nobody to talk to, and oodles of time to waste. I had nothing otherwise that I felt I HAD to say. I had no PASSION. I did not feel like I was put on this earth to do anything. Other people seemed to have these drives, and I had nothing.

But then one day in a fit of depression I stopped by a bookstore right near my apartment, The Armadillo's Pillow, just to get outside of the house. I happened upon a book I had loved in high school, Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections. I took it home. I read it. It transported me for a few hours away from my pain. I went back to the book store and picked up some sci-fi. A John Varley collection, I think. I was also swept away from my suffering, even when the stories had flaws that I noticed. I was interested in the actual craft of storytelling: what worked and what didn't. And there was finally some beauty in my head instead of the usual dreariness and self-hatred and emptiness.

And so. I made the choice to write. I could have taken it or left it at that point. I didn't care about anything. Caring is a muscle that you have to flex. And when you're depressed, it can be very hard. I needed a lot of nudges from the external world and other people, to realize that I had some things I did gravitate toward, even if I didn't realize it.

All that time of course I WAS driven to write. I was churning out 5k word letters to Heather every day practically. I was reading stupid shit online. And when it was put in front of me, and I had no reason to feel guilt about not working hard enough on other things, I reached for books. But I didn't feel passion strongly under the heavy blankets of my depression. Or usually at all, really. I am a quite internally muted person whose emotions are suppressed. But they're there. Speaking to me softly. And to overcome my depression, I had to decide to listen to them instead of ignoring them all of the time, and give them kindling, and then fan them into a flame.

I started blogging regularly while I was in graduate school (right here, hello, you can check my archive dating back to 2011), and finding a reason to live. When I was writing, I felt like the world was interesting, and beautiful. It gave me new things to do. I attended literary readings and book launches all over town. I submitted work to magazines. I bought old copies of magazines and read them. I inhaled books. I listened to fiction podcasts. I joined writing groups. At first, it felt like a slog, like anything else. Doing these things, I was not "happy". But I was interested. I liked learning about the world of publishing, critiquing people's stories in my head, and commisserating with other Tumblr writers about the stuff that got featured on the Prose tag that sucked.

After YEARS of doing this, of choosing to fan my passions, it became a genuine motivation in my life. But even then? I lose track of it sometimes. I get busy, or there's no place comfy to sit and read in my apartment, and I forget that I like writing and reading for months at a time. And then I have to choose it again. It takes effort to care about something, every time.

It's the same way with hypno. I did have a fetish for this stuff all my life long. But it's a passion that people always thought was weird and gross, and that I thought was bad. I didn't tell anyone about it until my late 20's. I felt ashamed masturbating to it or looking up hypno content online. For years I snuffed out that flame of passion until I could barely feel it anymore. It wasn't until I was super depressed AGAIN in my later 20's that I took a bunch of weird off-label anti-depressant drugs under the table and had a weird dreamy headspace overtake me and make me insanely horny that I remembered how much I loved hypno, and because I was in search of an escape from my tormented brain, I sought hypnotists out.

And I had the time of my life. But I also had boring, awkward encounters, bad hook-ups, and had to do a ton of work.

My passions have drawn me out of depression because I needed them to. I had to find them, listen to them, and then give them lots of food. And it's one of the few things that a person does often have agency over, no matter how dispiriting their circumstances. You can make choices about where to put what attention you do have, in what free moments you do have. When you're on the bus or in line at the grocery store and you're thinking about how much you hate yourself, you can try to think about a story you read or a sexual fantasy you had, instead. It's a lot of work. But it's better work than the work of hating yourself, which takes a whole lot of energy and attention itself.

I hope you can find something like this for you. It doesn't really matter what it is. It can be some hobby you've always wanted to try, or something "childish" you've suppressed. Having a passion isn't like being chosen by the universe to care about something. It's not like love at first sight. Nothing fucking works like that in life. It's always work. It's always a choice you have to make, because no one else will give it to you. But there can be hints that you can follow, sometimes.

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hellfirenacht · 3 months ago

Text

Wing Man Bonus Story: Next October

This is a non-canon blurb for Wing Man. It’s non-canon because it gives Reader a specific birthday month. This was written for me and for @sheneedsrocknroll92 as we are actually twins with the same October birthday, ignore the gap year between us.

You don’t need to know much about Wing Man to enjoy this, but you should read it anyway because it’s a finished 86k word Reader/Eddie fic and don’t you want to read a finished fic that long? Yes. Yes you do. (You also want to leave comments on all the fics you read when you enjoy them, js)

Anyway, say Happy Birthday to both of us. Also, sorry this is a few days late lol

1.8K Words

Plot: It’s your birthday, and you’re drowning in work. Thankfully, you have an amazing boyfriend to help you relax.

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, established relationship, fluff, overuse of the word slut (affectionate)

You loved your job, really. Most nights you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. You got to spin and talk about almost anything that you wanted, play music you enjoyed, and even spend the occasional commercial break with your amazing boyfriend when he stayed late at the studio.

But there were only so many hours in the day. Your nights from midnight to 6 am were spent on air. Your mornings were chores and errands while everything was still open, followed by sleeping until dusk where you’d wake up and would head to work so early to spend some time with Eddie at the recording studio, or at one of his gigs, or do any other number of things around the studio.

It didn’t even occur to you that it was almost your birthday. You had been so wrapped up in your own work and helping Eddie and Corroded Coffin that it wasn’t until you saw Halloween decorations being put up around the studio that you realized that October was right around the corner, which meant that it was also almost your birthday.

It was a bittersweet seeing the decorations. It felt like only a few weeks ago that you had decorated Family Video with decorations you paid for out of your own pocket. Shit, that meant it had been about a year since you and Steve had made the little deal that had led you to where you are today.

You should drop by and see him soon.

Even though you and Eddie had started living together months ago, it still felt rare that you got to see him outside of work. Corroded Coffin was doing better than anyone (except you) could have expected. That meant lots of rehearsals, gigs, talking to local publications for interviews, and being awake when you were asleep. You were really starting to miss him.

It was the morning of your birthday, and you stepped out of the old theater-turned-studio into the cool October air. There was a golden shine on everything as the sun peeked over the horizon, and the air felt crisp and cool but not uncomfortably so.

I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. That quote floated through your mind as you got in your car.

Even though it was your birthday, there were still things to be done. You grabbed your half of the rent, picked up some deodorant and toothpaste and the largest bottle of conditioner you could find for Eddie. You stood in the cereal aisle staring at the colorful boxes, allowing yourself the moment to pick out one that was appropriately themed for the month and that you and Eddie would both enjoy, and finally made it back home.

Eddie wasn’t home when you got back to your apartment, it wasn’t unusual. You might have had set hours, but Eddie’s schedule was all over the place. Ever the life of an indie metal star.

You put away your groceries and made your way to the closet where you kept all of the halloween decorations. You managed to pull out two boxes and open one before you hit the wall. These days of going non-stop were starting to catch up to you, and you found yourself just staring at the box as you sat on the couch for an undisclosed amount of time.

Yeah, you needed sleep.

It was damn near a miracle that your birthday lined up with your next few days off. You could sleep for a few hours, wake up, decorate and then figure out where the hell your boyfriend was. Most days you two would be at the studio together, but there were some days where Paige had him off doing something else with the band.

You weren’t jealous that Paige was Eddie’s ex. You were jealous that she got to see him more than you did lately. You trusted him completely, but you really missed having a normal schedule with him.

You found yourself crawling into his side of the bed and nuzzling into his pillow. Sometimes it was nice to have the bed to yourself, but there were mornings like this when you wished that he was here and you two could just talk nonsense until you fell asleep.

Just a few hours of sleep and then you’d get back to work...

You felt something nudge you, and your eyes opened just slightly. There was something, no someone, in front of you. You hoped it was Eddie. It probably was. He said something. You mumbled something nonsensical in return and closed your eyes again.

There was another nudge and this time you could only lift your hand slightly and let it flop down like a dead fish.

It was quiet for a long while after that. You finally opened your eyes and saw... nothing. Shit, you slept longer than you meant to. If it was this dark then that meant that it was night time now and Eddie was probably already at the studio again doing who-knows-what.

You peeled yourself off the bed and sat there, trying to reorient yourself. You loved your job, but the sleep schedule had been hard to manage, especially as the days grew shorter and you saw the sun less during the day.

After counting to three, you pushed yourself off the bed. You’d make yourself something to eat, and probably spend all night watching Halloween movies until Eddie came home.

When you stepped out of the bedroom, you heard music. Your eyes adjusted to the lights that had been turned on and you were soon standing in the living room, stunned.

Your Halloween decorations had been put up, well most of them. You could smell pizza, and there was a record playing- your favorite one.

“Morning.” Eddie said as he stepped out of the kitchen and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“Eddie you- what are you doing here?” you asked, staring at him as if you couldn’t believe he was really standing in front of you.

“It’s your birthday?” Eddie said, as if he were the one that was confused now. “I told Paige I’m taking the next few days off.”

It was your birthday. You had barely remembered your own birthday, and so hadn’t expected Eddie to either.

“Oh shit, what’s wrong?” Eddie asked in a panic, his eyes going wide. “Did I get the wrong date?”

You shook your head quickly, feeling something wet on your cheek. Oh, you might have been tearing up just slightly. Left Turn Studios had been running you so deep into the ground you hadn’t even realized how exhausted you were.

“No! No, you didn’t. It’s my birthday.” you said, taking his hand. “I just... I had almost forgotten myself and didn’t expect...”

Eddie squeezed your hand. “I know we’ve been working a lot.” he said. “Paige said things will slow down after Halloween for a while and I’ll have more free time. I just.. I missed you. I know I’m still new to the whole ‘being a boyfriend’ thing, but I wasn’t about to leave you alone on your birthday.”

You were sat on the couch now, and Eddie pointed at you dramatically. “Hear me now” he pointed at you. “For tonight, I am at your complete command. This humble bard will be your personal jester and do whatever you ask.”

You broke out into a fit of giggles. “Could you do the dishes?”

Eddie’s chest puffed up and he gave you a proud smile. “Already done.”

“Shit, you’re good.” you sighed, starting to feel better already.

There was a buzzing noise coming from the kitchen and Eddie quickly jumped in. A steaming hot pizza was placed on the coffee table in front of you. “I also have some cupcakes in the fridge.” He explained. “I couldn’t remember if you liked chocolate or vanilla more so I just got both-”

“Keep talking like this and I’m promoting you from jester to wife, Eddie.” you threatened, giving him a kiss before digging into the pizza.

“Would that make me your queen?” he asked, sitting next to you with his own slice.

“No, I’m still queen. I think there’s a bunch of weird rules about that and if we got married you’d be Queen consort or something.”

“Doesn’t that just mean I’d be the Queen's slut?”

“You’re thinking concubine, probably.”

“...Can I be that instead?”

You nearly choked on your pizza with laughter, feeling lighter than you had in days. “Yeah, sure. I’ll promote you from bard to slut if you keep being nice to me. Wait, aren’t bards known for being that way anyway?”

Eddie looked at you in mock-offense. “You dare suggest that I, Eddie Munson, humble bard, would sleep my way to the top? That I could not wed you on charm and love alone and that I would sell my body?”

“....Isn’t your current band manager your ex?”

His jaw dropped and twisted into a face that had you falling back on the couch, laughing with tears in your eyes.

“That’s not- that.. No, that was- I’m- We’re-” he sputtered, unable to hold back his own laughter. “Shit, maybe I am a slut.”

“As long as you’re only a slut for me, that’s fine.” You leaned over and kissed him, still feeling those butterflies in your stomach as he kissed you back, setting his own pizza aside.

A while later, Eddie was cleaning you both up as you lay naked on the couch. You reached out to get some post-sex cuddling but he jumped up suddenly as if he remembered something. He cursed and ran into the kitchen.

You sat up, amused as you saw his naked ass disappear and reappear moments later with the tray of cupcakes, a few sporting lit candles.

“Eddie, my love, you are naked and handling fire.” you said, looking him up and down in amusement.

“What would I not do to entertain?” he replied before launching into Happy Birthday.

You took a deep breath and blew out the candles.

“I meant to do this before sex, but...”

“We’re not exactly good at going in order.” you finished, grabbing a cupcake with heaps of pumpkin-orange frosting.

It was well past midnight when half of the cupcakes were gone, and you and Eddie were laying on your cramped couch with him as the big spoon. You two would probably regret it in the morning, but right now there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

The two of you watched as Pamala Voorhees revealed herself as the killer and you played with the rings on Eddie’s fingers. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, and you knew that in a few minutes his arm that you were laying on would fall asleep.

“Happy birthday.” Eddie mumbled, his grip tightening around you. “I love you.”

You pulled his hand up and kissed his fingers softly.

Last year, you and Steve had a deal to wingman for each other to help you both get dates. In the end, Steve only managed to help you get one date but that date led you to finding everything you could have ever wanted.

“I love you too, Eddie.”

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