#there are a few more specific anxieties but basically

[veresiine]

Work retail, they said. It will cure your social anxiety, they said.

It's been five years. Not only has my social anxiety NOT improved, but I have all kinds of new anxieties! I get nightmares about rotisserie chicken availability! Even if I'm at other stores and off the clock, I freeze in fear when the music turns off and the paging system turns on! I flinch at the ringtone of the store phone! I can feel fear curdling in my stomach if the phone rings when there are no cars in the parking lot because that means it's almost certainly a customer complaint! The word 'coupon' fills me with dread in any context now!

[guinevereslancelot]

is there any worse feeling than when you feel like someone is mad at you bc they literally are mad at you

[orimuraa]

𓈒 🏁 ／ ⋆ ۪ Go big or go home - Lee Heeseung

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆famous model, y/l/n y/n, has caught the eye of famous f1 racer, lee heeseung, but how will they ever be able to interact when they're lives are so different? ⨾

۶ৎ f1 racer!heeseung x fem model!reader ┆fake dating to lovers, slow burn┆cursing, alcohol, age gap? (2 years), kissing, petnames, angst, some fluff┆ wc 4.8k

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: its finally here!!! tysm to everyone who waited for this and i hope you enjoy! this is my first super long fic and i would really appreciate reblogs and feedback! tysm!!

TEASER

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

the adrenaline of racing was always too much for y/n. her life was the exact opposite of that type of life and she never wanted to get in anything like that.

she had worked so hard for the reputation she now has, putting literal blood, sweet and tears into her career as a model.

but now look where she was. she was the global face of dior, prada, miu miu, louis vuitton and so many more brands.

everyone knew who y/l/n y/n was in korea. she was such an icon for the modeling world and never seen slipping up.

it was like she had no flaws.

but lee heeseung was the literal opposite of the whole life y/n had built for herself.

he was careless and daring, not completely caring about anyone’s opinions about him or his reputation.

not to mention, he was insanely hot. his looks stealing the hearts of many of his fans.

heeseung liked racing cause he felt like he could truly be himself—careless and reckless.

and heck, he’s made it his whole life now! he was an f1 racer who had quite the following now.

y/n was very much aware of who lee heeseung was, and even watched some of the races he was in.

she had to admit, he was indeed hot, but what would her fans think of her and heeseung?

her “fans” always criticized every man that got close to her, saying they were unworthy of her attention.

so to avoid anymore scandals that could truly ruin her career, y/n has steered clear of basically any man in sight.

heeseung couldn’t deny that the girl was pretty, she was drop dead gorgeous! but he knew what happens to people when they get too close to y/n, and that was something that he did not want happening to him.

“miss y/n! you’re going to be late for the fashion show due to the flight being delayed..” one of y/n’s staff informed, refreshing the flight page over and over.

y/n was supposed to fly out to a prada event in milan, but due to the weather, her flight was delayed by 2 hours, meaning she was gonna make it the the show late.

“then i guess we will have to get ready in the airport,” y/n sighed, subconsciously twirling a strand of her hair out of anxiety.

what was heeseung gonna do? he’s never been to a fashion show before! and not to mention, his staff has little to no experience with such fancy events like this!

his staff is for his races and making sure all his gear is in one spot for him, not dressing him up in a $10,000 suit for some prada show.

on the other hand though, heeseung was excited for a new experience, and he got a free flight down in first class! so it was a win-win.

his teammates were giving him a bunch of complaints out of jealousy because of a specific person.

and that person, was y/l/n y/n. his teammates were so jealous that he was going to the same event as her and had the chance to talk to her.

to heeseung, it didn’t seem like that big of a deal. big name celebrities go to these types of shows all the time! so what’s the big deal about y/l/n y/n?

sure she had the visuals of an angel and heeseung may or may not have felt a few butterflies whenever he saw her on a magazine or on an article online.

but now that he was actually gonna meet her (potentially), he couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous.

y/n was able to make it out of the airport bathroom just on time where her staff rushed to get her ready for the show.

she arrived at the location of the show, mentally preparing herself for the camera flashes and screams around her.

once she stepped out of the car, she made sure to wave and smile politely to all the fans that waiting hours to see her.

“you’ll be sitting here next to mr. lee,” one of the hosts told y/n once she made it inside.

“oh hello! i’m glad i get to sit next to someone who speaks korean as well! my english is…well..not very good,” she smiled sheepishly.

“hi, i’m lee heeseung and yes, it is quite nice to have someone to converse with,” heeseung smiled, a couple of unwanted butterflies fluttering around in his stomach.

“ah right! i’m y/l/n y/n,” she smiled, the lights dimming and cutting off their conversation.

throughout the show, y/n and heeseung shared light comments with each other and for once, y/n kinda forgot that she had the type of career and reputation that if she talked to a guy, she would be caught up in a dating scandal.

the after party was a very..unique?…experience. for heeseung, it was a very new experience to have such fancy people surrounding him while he was just a mere car racer.

but y/n made it better. they both weren’t big fans of going out and socializing with new people—especially if they needed to speak in their very broken english.

“so what’s it like? the thrill of racing?” y/n asked, nursing a glass of wine. why’d she even have it? she hated alcohol.

“it’s really an experience. you get to live life freely, not really caring about being reckless. it’s kinda my escape from the world, y’know?” heeseung chuckled, taking another sip of his glass.

“hm, must be nice..” y/n murmured, thinking about what her life would be like if she wasn’t a model and if she didn’t have all these expectations of being “perfect” all the time.

the two talked for the rest of the party, sharing small touches on the arm whenever one said something funny.

“thank you heeseung, for keeping me company and letting me be..well, myself,” y/n said softly. “i have to go catch a flight back to seoul but maybe we can stay in contact? here’s my number.” she said, sliding him a piece of paper.

“for sure. it was great talking with you y/n,” heeseung smiled back, sending her a small wink.

little did they know, someone had managed to get a few photos of their interactions.

the next morning, y/n and heeseung both faced faced the consequences of their actions.

FAMOUS F1 RACER, LEE HEESEUNG, AND FAMOUS MODEL, Y/L/N Y/N, ARE DATING?

the article shocked y/n and she immediately rushed to call her manager.

“what the fuck?” heeseung whispered to himself. he ran a hand through his hair, reading the article about him and y/n.

in the article, there was a photo of y/n touching his arm while laughing and heeseung is seen with a wide smile on his face.

fuck. he was so screwed. y/n was so screwed. he immediately opened twitter just to see his name and y/n’s trending for their dating scandal.

“oh for fucks sake!” he turned off his phone and threw it onto the bed.

y/n had just gotten off of her flight when the article reached her, making her push through the usual airport crowds of paparazzi worse.

“is it true you’re dating lee heeseung?”

“why lee heeseung? he’s no good for you!”

“y/n ssi? are the rumors true?”

it was all too overwhelming for y/n and the constant shoving and clicking of cameras was most definitely not helping.

it felt like she had to trudge a mile through mud just to make it to the car, letting a sigh of relief out as she sunk into the chair.

as she sat there though, she wondered how heeseung was taking it? he might have it worse than her since some of her “fans” were quite toxic to the people she got into scandals with.

he hasn’t texted..he probably wants nothing to do with me. y/n thought to herself, looking down at her empty messages.

all the way back in milan, heeseung was getting ready to head back to korea, not exactly thrilled to hear what his teammates had to say about his new scandal.

fuck. how’s y/n holding up? she must have it much worse than me. heeseung thought to himself, nervously bouncing his knee up and down.

once he made it to the airport, he was unexpectedly swarmed by crazy fans just trying to get an answer to their questions.

“are you really dating her? she’s too good for you.”

“how long have you been dating miss y/n?”

heeseung was not having it. he pushed his way through the crowd of people, pulling down his beanie even further.

throughout the flight, heeseung found himself constantly thinking about y/n. why though? did he really like her? or was it just out of pity? if these were the reactions to their dating scandal, how would they react if they were actually dating?

wait- when would they ever actually date?

either way, it would probably ruin both of their careers.

y/n paced back and forth, waiting for any form of contact from heeseung.

she didn't exactly expect him to contact her especially after this huge scandal, but she wanted to make sure he was doing okay.

she eventually gave up on waiting after another 30 minutes went by with no new notification.

with a sigh, she sat down on the couch, lost in thought.

would she be able to just ignore this scandal?

would it be just a quick scandal? or a long-lasting one?

many questions occupied y/n's thoughts, causing her to miss the way her phone vibrated next to her.

finally checking her phone, she saw a message from lee heeseung.

hey, i know i'm probably the last person you want to hear from but i just wanted to make sure you were doing okay with all the crazy fans

it took a couple minutes for y/n to actually process the words on the screen before quickly texting back.

oh hi heeseung! no worries, i was actually scared that you wouldn't wanna talk to me since it's mainly my 'fans' who are making this a big deal

she had only formally met heeseung for a day but she couldn't help but slowly fall for his charm.

y/n loved how care-free he was and despite his reputation as a racer, he was actually a sweetheart.

the next few days consisted of hiding from the public, not being seen anywhere, and a lot of meetings with her company about how they could cover up this scandal.

meanwhile, heeseung hadn't raced since he came back from milan which started to worry his teammates.

"dude, you alright? you've been so different since your scandal with y/n," one of his teammates stated, finally talking about the elephant in the room.

all heeseung did was sigh and stand up.

“yeah i’m fine,” he grunted, grabbing his jacket and walking out. his teammates exchanged glances with each other. it was obvious heeseung wasn’t doing well.

hey, are you free to meet up?

heeseung didn’t exactly know why he texted y/n.

why would she even wanna meet up with him? god he felt so stupid after sending that text.

sure! you can come over to my place! just make sure not to be seen

heeseung’s eyes widened as he read the text over and over. heeseung enjoyed y/n’s company and even though they were polar opposites, he found a source of comfort while talking to her.

she was so sweet and genuine with him unlike his crude teammates and competitors.

he quickly slipped on his shoes, clicking on the address y/n sent him.

when he arrived, he noticed how grand the apartment complex was. the building was clean and screamed “rich vibes”.

“you made it! hi heeseung!” as soon as the door opened, heeseung was greeted with y/n’s sweet smile.

“hey, sorry for the sudden text. i just..needed to talk to you,” he sighed, looking down at his shoes.

y/n took a guess that it was probably about their dating scandal so she just smiled sympathetically and let him in.

the first thing heeseung noticed about y/n’s place was how homey it was.

it was neat and had cute decorations that made heeseung smile.

she was such a professional model on camera and that’s all he’s known her for, so seeing this side of y/n was refreshing to see.

the plushies and little figured that scattered the shelves and furniture reminded him that y/n was still young and was practically living two lives.

“oh, sorry about the mess…here you can sit here,” she smiled sheepishly, moving a big stuffy off the couch and motioning for heeseung to sit.

“would you like anything to drink?” god she was so charming.

“oh! uhh no it’s fine, thank you though,” he smiled.

“soo..i assume that you’re here to talk about the scandal? i’m so sorry that you got into it with me,” y/n frowned. “i always hate when i just talk with someone and it means that i’m dating them.”

heeseung noticed the way y/n’s eyes looked down, almost like she was sick of her life.

“hey, no it’s okay. trust me, i would hate that too and you’re truly so strong for putting up with all that,” heeseung reassured. “but i wanted to actually..propose something.”

y/n’s eyes widened, curious about what heeseung had to offer.

“i’m listening,”

“okay, so i was thinking we would maybe…fake date? like, just until the paparazzi get off our backs and then we can break it off,” heeseung says, searching y/n’s face for any reaction. “it would benefit you and me from the scandals and articles and just…i don’t know. i just think it’s better than leaving this as a rumor.” heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“i get it…they might go crazy when it’s first announced and then they’ll move onto the next piece of drama..” y/n mumbled, fidgeting her hands. “let’s do it. plus, it might be fun to see each other’s lives!” y/n chirped, smiling at the thought of experiencing heeseung’s life.

“deal! it will end when the netizens move on from us,”

“yup!” y/n agreed, shaking heeseung’s hand. “but i think we should also establish some ground rules.”

the first day was all planned out. y/n and heeseung had both decided that they would rather make a statement about them dating than have a netizen figure it out.

y/n agreed to talk to her company, confirming the rumor with heeseung.

heeseung didn’t really have to do anything since a lot of f1 racers were free to date whoever they wanted.

once y/n was done with her meeting—which went surprisingly well and the company agreed to make a public statement about it—y/n went to go meet up with heeseung.

“hey? how’d it go?” heeseung asked, subconsciously twirling the straw of his coffee between his fingers.

“it went well actually. they weren’t that surprised and said they would make a statement later this evening. but, now we need to make it believable,” y/n said, thinking back to the ground rules they established.

“there’s no need for any pda when we aren’t in public, this is just for show so keep it casual. when we’re in public though, we have to make it believable so do anything to fool the media,” heeseung read off the paper. y/n just nodded, agreeing to all the rules.

“no catching feelings,” y/n added, just to be sure. but deep down, she wasn’t sure if she really wanted that.

“yeah, we can start by just holding hands and being more comfortable with each other?” heeseung suggested, trying not to make it sound awkward.

“mhm, that sounds good,” y/n mumbled, her mind somewhere else.

LEE HEESEUNG AND Y/L/N Y/N ARE CONFIRMED TO BE DATING

the articles started rolling in just 5 minutes after y/n’s company put out a statement.

y/n was nervously scrolling through the comments, reading the reactions to her and heeseung.

most were positive but there was wuite a few negative comments.

“hey, don’t worry about them, they’re just jealous that we’re such a power couple,” heeseung laughs, trying to cheer y/n up.

“yeah..you’re right. i just…can’t help it sometimes, y’know? i want to make my fans happy and i don’t want to feel like i let them down. so i often check their reactions to things i do..” y/n says, looking down at her lap. “it’s just become a habit now..”

heeseung would be stupid if he didn’t notice the way y/n’s mood dropped.

“no no no, it’s okay. we’re gonna get through this together and it will all blow over in a couple of weeks. besides, you might even have some fun getting to be a bit more free around me,” heeseung winks, causing y/n to giggle and look away.

the first time heeseung and y/n went out together now that they were a “couple”, fans spotted them immediately, taking photos, videos, only to post it on social media to get more clout.

heeseung made sure to secure y/n by wrapping an arm around her waist, tapping it occasionally to let her know that he’s there for her. like a real boyfriend would do.

heeseung was just a couple years older than y/n but he felt the need to protect her. truth be told, he enjoyed spending time with her, getting to see what she was truly like behind the scenes.

he hadn’t really been going to practice, opting to spend time with y/n and getting to know her better.

y/n still had her modeling duties to do, but she still made time to hang out with heeseung and she often brought him along to her shoots. his soft touches and little gestures made her stomach flutter.

by the end of the week, the whole media was convinced that y/n and heeseung were the “it” couple of the year.

they were so different yet they clicked so well. all of y/n’s staff were convinced, heeseung’s teammates, and the whole world basically.

but the downside to this all was that y/n had actually started to catch feelings for heeseung. she adored the way he laughed at her non-funny jokes like they were the funniest things ever, the way he looked at her with such adoration in his eyes, and his company.

his company made y/n so happy and she felt so..understood.

heeseung understood y/n’s situation and even though he was never in that type of spotlight, he felt empathy for the girl.

he was caring and let her rant about all her built up issues from her career, always paying attention to her.

that’s what y/n’s problem with heeseung was. he cared about her like no one else did. he made her fall for him, even though she wasn’t supposed to.

heeseung was dealing with something quite similar.

he was slowly falling in love with y/n. actually, scratch that. he was in love with y/n.

she always managed to light up the room with her presence and make heeseung smile.

her laugh was contagious and she was so sweet and bubbly. it was such a refreshing experience for heeseung as non of his teammates were ever like this.

y/n brought out a whole new side of him that he didn’t even know existed. he found himself becoming more caring around her and he was less reckless around her.

but he was so sure that y/n didn’t feel the same. after all, she was the one who made the rule not to fall in love with each other.

little did they both know, they were both falling in love with each other, thinking it was never gonna be reciprocated.

the second week passed by like no time at all. y/n had her photoshoots to go to and some local fashion events here in korea while heeseung busied himself with practice in hopes that his feelings would die down if he distracted himself with the upcoming big race he had.

y/n was also distancing herself a bit from heeseung. she was scared that her heart would be left broken once the fake dating ended.

she had fallen for lee heeseung.

the one thing she told herself not to do.

heeseung of course noticed her sudden distance and became worried for her.

“princess?” —a new nickname he had started calling y/n which made her stomach turn. “are you okay? i haven’t heard much from you and i got worried,” heeseung said, taking off his shoes as he entered y/n’s apartment.

“heeseung…i-i…i dont think i can do this anymore!” she blurted, her negative thoughts getting the best of her.

she watched as heeseung’s face fell, a darker look on his face now.

“what? what do you mean? what do you mean you can’t do this anymore?” he asked, anger laced in his voice.

“i’m sorry hee, i just…i can’t do this anymore! pretending we’re dating when we’re not! it’s just..not working for me..” y/n mumbled, to ashamed to look heeseung in the eye.

she was scared that if she told him the truth, he would get even angrier at her for breaking the rule she made.

“fine! be like that then! don’t tell me why you suddenly want to break this off! that’s fine with me, but don’t come crying back to me when everything falls apart for you!” heeseung seethes, slipping his shoes back on and slamming the door on his way out.

the second the door closed, y/n broke down. she fell to the floor, tears rapidly streaming down her face.

what had she done?

heeseung was beyond mad. but he couldn’t deny that his heart felt a little broken too.

he fell for y/n in these past couple weeks only to have it broken off with no explanation.

his big race was in a few days and he really wanted y/n to be there for him, but now, he didn’t even want to think about her.

the next few days were torture for the two of them. y/n had tried to distract herself with photo shoots, but how could she when heeseung’s big race was all her staff were talking about?

heeseung was similar to y/n. he was practicing for hours and hours, trying to forget y/n, but it was hard when he kept seeing her face on billboards and magazines.

they both didn’t want to admit that they fell for each other.

the day of the race, heeseung was warming up for the biggest race of his career. but he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart just by thinking that he wouldn’t have y/n there to cheer him on.

but he couldn’t get distracted now, he had a race to win for fucks sake.

y/n had to practically beg for the day off to her manager. she intended to make things right with lee heeseung.

so, in a baseball cap and a mask, she made her way to the stadium.

to be honest, y/n had no idea what she was doing here. it was clear that heeseung wanted nothing to do with her anymore yet she still needed to see him.

the public didn’t know that they had “broken up” yet so in their eyes, they were still the perfect couple.

after a couple days of moping around, debating whether or not she should tell heeseung how she actually felt about him, she decided that it was only fair that he knew the truth.

once she got to her seat, she really felt the energy in the stadium.

fans were screaming and cheering for all their favorite racers, but she was only here for one.

heeseung’s race was supposed to be the main event of the show tonight as he was going for a world record.

throughout the course of time y/n had spent with heeseung, she did in fact, learn a thing or two about racing, so she wasn’t completely stupid.

as the lights dimmed down and the cheers got louder, y/n could feel her heart quicken. she took off the hat and her mask as it got way too stuffy in the stadium.

from afar, she could see the figure of lee heeseung walking to his race car, his helmet in his hands as he waved to the crowd.

he looked so natural and free in his usual setting and it was like y/n got to experience a whole new side of him.

but then, he turned around, facing y/n’s direction, only to catch her gaze on him. his expression turned into an unreadable one before turning back around and slipping into his car.

once he was in his car, his opponents also got in their cars, now revving up the engines, ready to take off.

y/n nervously looked around at the opponents and then the countdown.

a girl in a skimpy outfit walked into the middle of the cars, a flag in her hands.

3..2…1! GO!

she blew the whistle and raised the flag, making sure to pose for the crowd before walking off once the cars had passed her.

the moment the cars took off, y/n stopped breathing. she watched as heeseung flew across the track, his speed intensifying more and more.

he was a whole lap in front of everyone else, which was a good thing…until it wasn’t.

“oh my god, he’s going too fast!” another person who was sitting next to y/n screamed. y/n’s gaze caught heeseung’s car and the person next to her was right. he was going too fast. he was gonna crash.

heeseung’s car was practically a blur of red, black and white as his car zoomed through the course.

but he never slowed down.

he only sped up.

y/n felt her heart drop as heeseung only moved faster. he was on the final lap, but it didn’t matter. he was going to win anyways but what mattered was his speed.

yes he was going for a world record but this was unsafe. he was going way too fast and he knew it.

heeseung sat in his car, hands tightly around the wheel. before he stepped into his car, he saw y/n.

what was she doing here? the days he spent after the argument with y/n were filled with regret. he should’ve never blew up at her like that.

he should’ve listened to her and her reasoning. he felt so awful. he was so sure she hated him.

so why was she in the stands, watching him? he sped faster, dying to finish the race. dying to tell y/n how fucking sorry he was. he was such an idiot for letting her go so easily. dying to tell her that he loved her.

as he crossed the finish line, he itched to get out of his car. he impatiently waited for all the other cars to come to a stop so it would be safe for him to run out.

something in y/n’s body told her to go. go to him and tell him how much she fell for him.

so that’s what she did. she got up from her seat, rushing down to the gate.

heeseung had the same intent because as soon as it was clear to get out, he threw open the door and rushed out.

his helmet discarded on the floor, not giving a single car for the world except for y/n.

there, he saw her waiting by the gates and he ran harder.

“y/n?? what are you doing here??” he breathed, his voice shaky from the adrenaline.

“i came to see you. i can to tell you how sorry i was and how much of a fool i wa-” she was cut off with heeseung’s lips pressing against hers.

their lips fit together like puzzle pieces and it felt so right. y/n quickly melted into the kiss, wrapping her arms around heeseung’s neck.

pulling away, the two of them were breathless.

“i’m the one who should be sorry. i said some things that i shouldn’t have said and i hurt you,” heeseung’s tone was soft yet apologetic. tears sprang to y/n’s eyes as she smiled at heeseung.

“i think…i-i fell in love with you lee heeseung. that’s why i ended this. i was so scared that i would continue falling for you and eventually when it would end, i would be even more heartbroken. i didn’t want to end it but i felt like i had to,” y/n cried into heeseung’s shoulder.

heeseung sighed and wrapped his arms around y/n’s shorter frame.

“princess, i loved you too. i loved you the moment we met in milano,” he chuckled softly, kissing y/n’s head. “i’m so fucking in love with you it hurts.” he laughed.

“i guess that makes two,” y/n smiled, pulling away to look at heeseung’s face.

they both leaned in, connecting their lips one more time.

“i knew you’d win,” y/n whispered against heeseung’s lips.

“yeah?” he smirked, a cocky expression on his face.

the two stayed in each other’s arms for a bit longer, forgetting about the world outside.

“so are we dating for real now?” y/n asked.

“for real.” heeseung smiled, kissing her forehead one more time.

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: @en-diaries, @k-films, @k-nets

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[triptuckers]

nothing without you - remy lebeau

Request: nope Pairing:  remy lebeau x reader Summary:  remy loses his beloved cards and you figure something out about him Warnings:  mentions of anxiety, mentions of blood/wounds (nothing big), remy is a lil sad :( Word count: 1.5K A/N: do I know anything about gambit or his lore? no. I do know I went to see deadpool & wolverine again and now I need him to call me chéri. enjoy!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

you knew remy loved his cards. after a while you'd lost track trying to count them. in every pocket of every piece of clothing he owned, you'd find a deck of cards. it was an entire chore to empty all of his pockets before doing laundry. and still some of them would end up in the washing machine, and they'd come out all soggy and messed up.

if he would round them all up, you're sure he'd be able to fill an entire storage box. he always had at least one pack of cards on him.

but there was always that one favorite pack of cards. the one he took with him on missions, the one he always had on him "just in case".

and now it's missing.

ever since he found out he lost it, remy has been heartbroken.

you helped him search for it, turning the whole place upside down. remy was the first to give up the search. he told you he'd accepted the fact he lost them, but you knew he was just too sad to have lost them to keep on searching.

his powers didn't have anything to do with that specific deck of cards, they were simply his favorite. he'd had them since he was a kid, learned all of his skills with them. of course they were special to him.

you tried to cheer him up by getting him a new deck and talking about his other decks, but nothing seemed to help.

you'd noticed he'd grown more restless since losing the cards.

from the moment you met him, you had only ever seen him with a deck of cards in his hand. safe for the moments where he was doing something that required both of his hands. but his fingers were never far from the cards.

now that he's lost them, he's constantly holding on to other things. you'd never really considered remy to be a very anxious person, but he's fidgeting constantly now.

if you're sitting next to him he's playing with your fingers or the hem of your shirt. he's tapping patterns that make no sense to you on your thigh. he'd repeatedly tap his own fingertips against each other.

right now, he's sitting on the couch after getting back from a mission. he got a nasty cut on his forehead but otherwise he was fine. you just got back from fetching the first aid kit from the kitchen when you see him staring off into space while rapidly tapping his fingers on his leg.

'hey.' you say, sitting on the salon table in front of him.

he blinks a few times before his eyes settle on yours.

'you okay?' you ask.

remy nods, but you can tell something's bothering him. you decide to let it rest until after you take care of him. it can wait.

you scoot closer to him, opening the first aid kid.

'I'll need to clean it first, before I can bandage it.' you say softly. 'it might sting a little.'

'it's okay, chéri.' he says.

you carefully put some rubbing alcohol on a cotton wad and lean in. as you gently press it on his forehead, remy sucks in a breath and closes his eyes.

'sorry.' you say, as you start to slowly wipe the cotton wad over the wound to get rid of the dirt and blood.

you feel something on your leg and when you briefly glance down, you see remy is fidgeting with a loose thread of your pants. they were really his, but you stole them so long ago they're basically yours now. you always had to roll them up a couple of times before you could wear them, otherwise they were too long.

as you get out a fresh cotton wad, you notice remy still has his eyes closed. he really hasn't been the same since he lost his favorite deck of cards, and you're worried about him.

'remy?' you say.

he hums in response as you lean in to finish cleaning the wound on his forehead. you put the bloody cotton wad on the ground next to you so you can throw it away later.

'talk to me. what's going on?' you say.

'I didn't look where I was going, the knife barely missed me but it nicked me. I should-'

'I'm not talking about today's mission, love.'

remy opens his eyes and looks at you with a slight frown on his face. you give him a soft smile.

'you've been... different. and it's okay, I just want to know how I can help you. you haven't been yourself since you lost your favorite cards.'

he closes his eyes again and leans into your touch as you bandage his forehead. his fingers are still playing with your pants.

'they keep my mind off of things.' he says eventually.

'the cards?' you say.

remy nods. 'I've got something to do with my hands. I can think about the cards. not about... other stuff.'

'all done, my love.' you say, when you finish bandaging him up. you press a soft kiss to the bandage and look down to find remy looking up at you.

'thank you, mon amour.'

'you're welcome.'

you get up to put the first aid kit away and throw the trash out. then you get back to join remy on the couch.

his fingers immediately take a hold of yours as he starts to play around with them.

'you know, I never figured you for a very anxious person.' you say.

'I'm not.'

'baby, you can't keep your finger still. and when you're doing something with both of your hands, your leg is always bouncing up and down.'

remy frowns. 'I do that?'

'it's usually something people do subconsciously. then again, being the gambit is a pretty stressful job.'

'I guess.'

you turn to look at remy. 'you really miss your cards, huh?'

'chéri, you have no idea.' sighs remy.

'I'm sorry we didn't find them.' you say.

'it's not your fault.' says remy, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your cheek. he knows it's not anyone's fault but his own. he probably lost them somewhere outside, because they did search the entire house. every cabinet and under every piece of furniture.

'how about we watch a movie? try to get your mind off of it for at least an hour or two?' you suggest.

'sure, alright.' says remy.

'you pick the movie, I'll get the snacks.' you say, getting up to go to the kitchen.

you get out a bowl and half a bag of popcorn. you dump it in the bowl and stuff the empty package in the trash, which is nearly overflowing. knowing it'll only annoy you in the morning, you let out a sigh as you take it out.

after taking it out of the bin - which took more effort than you would have liked - you close it and take it out the backdoor. just as you throw it in the larger bin outside, something purple catches your eye.

you walk over to where it is sticking out from under the bin. as you drag the bin away so you can take a closer look, you see a familiar rectangular box.

remy's beloved cards. his very favorite deck.

you quickly snatch it up and head back inside.

when you get back to the living room you see remy has picked one of your favorite movies.

'hey.' he says, glancing over his shoulder at you. 'no snacks?'

'I've got something better.' you say.

remy looks over his shoulder again and his eyes land on your bright smile, then drop to your hands.

'tada!' you say. 'found them outside under the bin! I knew we didn't lose them and they had to be around somewhere so I-'

you're cut off when remy grabs your face and kisses you. you hadn't even noticed him getting up and walking to you in two quick and long strides.

'mon amour, you're the best!' he says, smiling at you. he kisses you again and you can feel he's still smiling.

he pulls back and takes the deck of cards you're holding up for him. instantly, he takes them out of the case and twirls them around, throwing them in the air and catching them again.

you watch as his face lights up. you're so glad he's got his favorite cards and he looks like your remy again. you watch him for a while, following the cards with your eyes.

eventually, he puts them away and pulls you against his chest, making you laugh as he hugs you tight.

'oh, what would I do without you?' he says as he pulls back slightly so he can look at you.

'well you'd have to find someone new to fix you up after a fight. and to find your cards. and take care of-'

'alright, alright, I get it, I'm nothing without you.'

'and don't you forget it.'

'I won't, chéri, I promise you I never will.'

A/N:If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost, steal or translate my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[girlgenius1111]

healing

alexia putellas x reader you don't like to admit when something is wrong, alexia knows this. she also knows that with a a scheduled surgery coming up for you, she'd have to wade through these hidden emotions as best she could to support you. basically, r has a breast reduction surgery, and alexia does her best to take care of her, even when r is a bit resistant. this is, obviously, very self indulgent. potentially the most self indulgent fic i've ever written. it's very reflective of my experiences recently so. you know. i hope you enjoy. hugeeeeee thanks to @pickledwoso who sent the request in and gave me sooo many ideas to work with.

------

You sat up with a loud gasp, clutching at your chest. The specifics of the nightmare evaded you instantly, but you knew it had been horrifying. Filled with needles and doctors and knives and pain. 

“Amor?” Alexia mumbled groggily, emerging from where she was curled up under the covers, despite it being a warm evening.  She had barely been dragged from sleep by the sound you had made, only one eye cracking open to look at you.“You okay?” 

Unable to say much in response, you could only whimper quietly and shake your head. Alexia was wide awake in a second, sitting up and tilting your face towards her.

 “Ale-” You cut yourself off with a sob, leaning forward to bury your face in your girlfriend’s soft sleep shirt. 

Shaking once more, Alexia pulled you into her, cradling your body close. “What is wrong, mi amor?” 

“I-I… nightmare. I had a nightmare.” You admitted, too far gone into panic to try to hide your anxiety from your girlfriend. Alexia didn’t say much for a while, just nodding her head to show that she’d heard you, before she got to work calming you down. She did it rather easily, reminding you to breathe, stroking her fingers through your hair. She was soft, gentle, loving, and her affection bled through every light touch. Alexia always cared for you so easily; she made it seem simple. 

“Easy, just like that amor. In and out, slowly. It was just a dream, you’re right here with me. You’re okay.” 

It took a few minutes for you to calm down, and even still, you were still practically vibrating with anxiety. Alexia shifted over so that you were curled against her chest, and she could lean back against the headboard. With your face barely visible buried into her shirt, your girlfriend couldn’t really tell if you were still crying or not. Breathing steadier, for sure, but the sniffles coming from you every so often told Alexia that you were still very upset. 

The blonde began to run her fingers through your hair, massaging gently at your scalp. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

You were quiet for so long, she was sure you’d fallen back asleep. “I don’t remember what happened. It was about the surgery I think.” You murmured finally. “I’m a little nervous, I guess.” 

Alexia repressed a sigh. It was beyond clear to her, and had been for weeks, that you were more than mildly anxious about your scheduled breast reduction. She’d been waiting, less and less patiently, for you to just tell her how scared you were, but now the night before your surgery, she knew she couldn’t let this go on any longer. 

Wrapping both her arms tight around you, she pulled you even closer before she spoke. “It seems like you are maybe more than a little nervous, hmm?”

“Why do you say that?”

“You seem completely terrified, mi amor.”

“I am nervous, but I know I want to do this. I’m sure, Ale, I’ve made my mind up, and I-”

“You can still be nervous, even if you feel confident in your decision. That’s okay, amor. Why would you think it’s not?” 

“I… I just didn’t want you to try to change my mind.” 

“Why would I do that?” She sounded confused, and logically, you knew why. Ale was a deeply respectful person, and she’d never ever presume to tell you what to do with your body. Ever.

 No reply came, and Alexia realized you’d begun to tremble again. Frowning, she gently guided your chin up so she could look into your eyes, less than content with the anxiety so clear on your face. “Amor, talk to me. Please.” 

“What if you don’t like them? You know… after?” 

Alexia could have laughed at the completely ridiculous notion, but she saw the wet shine in your eye that told her you were completely serious. “Do not be silly. I will love them. ” She insisted. 

“You love them now.” You argued. “They won’t be the same.” 

Carefully, Alexia took your face in between her hands, insistently gazing down at you. “I know. They’ll be different. They won’t hurt you so much anymore, and that is all I want. Nothing will make me happier than you feeling better. I will love them, just like I love you.” She promised, her voice low and soothing. “You could get them removed completely, you could do anything, and it wouldn’t change how I feel about you. This is your body, mi amor. I love your body, and I will love it even when it changes.” 

“But… it doesn’t have to change.” Chewing on your lip, you took in your girlfriend’s completely puzzled expression. 

“I don’t understand. It doesn’t have to change, but you want it to, no?”

“I… don’t you think I’m being dramatic about this? A whole surgery just for some back pain…” Your words were not things you really believed. You knew you weren’t being dramatic, and you knew you were getting this done because of more than just back pain, although if you had, that would have been okay too. You’d just spent the last years hearing from your family and your doctors that you were being dramatic about your pain and the issues that came with having an absurdly large chest. Even getting a surgeon to agree to do the surgery was difficult, though you wouldn’t have even gotten there at all without Alexia. 

Not until you were with her, did you find yourself being believed. When you said you were hurting, she believed you. She wasn’t skeptical that you were exaggerating, or just looking for attention. It was this earnest belief that had you reconsidering, and ultimately deciding on, a breast reduction. Now, though, the years that people had spent belittling you and your struggles were rushing back to you, and you very suddenly felt like you were being ridiculous. 

The lights flickered on in the bedroom, and Alexia rolled back over to you. Having been lost in your thoughts, you’d missed her roll away to turn the bedside lamp on, and now she was studying you with a focused look on her face; one you knew to mean she was concerned. 

Her hand found yours, and she absentmindedly pulled the shoulder of your shirt back up as she spoke. “It is not a little back pain. It is debilitating. This affects your whole life, amor, you’ve wanted this for years. You know you aren’t being dramatic. Where is this coming from, hmm?” 

There was a deep reluctance in you to tell Alexia what you’d been through in the past with doctors and your family alike. You weren’t sure where it came from, or why it was so persistent, but you were too exhausted to fight it. Too terrified to even think of doing something that would make your anxiety spike. 

Your girlfriend seemed to sense this reluctance, because she brought your intertwined hands to her lips, leaving a kiss on your knuckles. A part of you had expected her to be annoyed for not talking, but another part of you knew better. Alexia didn’t get mad about stuff like that. All she had for you now was a sweet smile, and another kiss for your cheek that had you blushing unnecessarily. 

“We don’t have to talk about it.” She promised, mumbling the words against your face as she interspersed kisses in between her words. “You are not being dramatic. Your body changing does not bother me, could never bother me. I love you, and everything is going to be okay.” 

Entire body seemingly deflating, you leaned heavily into your girlfriend, torn between exhaustion, anxiety, and the overwhelming feeling of being adored. It wasn’t one were sure you’d ever get used to. With your face tucked into Alexia’s chest, it was hard to feel anything but safe and reassured, so you focused on the soft fabric of her shirt against your cheek, instead of what would be occurring the following morning. 

“I love you.” You murmured, burrowing in closer when your girlfriend tightened her arms around you. “Ale?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you come with me tomorrow? And stay?” You hated the vulnerability seeping from your words, didn’t want Alexia to ever see you as pathetically as you saw yourself. 

She only nodded, though, rubbing your back slowly. “Of course, cariño.” 

“It’s not too late to get out of training?” 

Alexia gave you a soft smile, though slightly embarrassed, rubbing her thumb across your cheek affectionately. “I am already called out, mi amor. I was going to stay anyway.”

“You were?” You asked with a shy grin. 

Alexia nodded enthusiastically. “Of course. I thought you might change your mind, and if you didn’t, well… I would have just pretended to go to training. I want to be there for you, and I would not be able to focus anyway.” 

You were overcome, for a moment, with affection for your girlfriend. She always seemed to anticipate what you’d need even before you knew herself. There was something about not only being loved, but known by Alexia that made you feel like the most special person in the world. You felt it even more when she placed the gentlest of kisses on your lips, and smiled at you just enough that the dimples on her cheeks appeared. 

“I am so lucky to have you.” You murmured, feeling emotion tug at you once again. 

Alexia shook her head with a grin, almost exasperated. “It always amazes me that you think you are the lucky one, when it is me. Because you are perfect and beautiful and I love you.” 

Before you could reply, and begin a back and forth of who was luckier, Alexia had pulled you to lay down practically on top of her, stretching her long arm to turn the bedside lamp off. 

“You need to rest, amor.” She insisted. And though when you’d woken from the nightmare, you had been sure you wouldn’t be sleeping any more tonight, there was something so soothing about being held so securely against your girlfriend. Your eyes began to shut of their own accord when she began to run her fingers through your hair, and you wondered briefly if there was anything Alexia couldn’t do.

------

The following morning came much too quickly. The first alarm went off at 6, only rousing you. Knowing you still had 15 minutes before you had to get up and get ready, you curled yourself back into Alexia’s side, shutting your eyes tightly and pretending that today was no different than any other day. Of course, the persistent anxious shaking of your body woke your girlfriend, though, an alarm in and of itself. 

It took her a second to realize what had woken her, as she couldn’t hear the alarm going off. Soon, though, she processed the way you were clinging to her, feeling her heart simultaneously melt and break.

“Oh, mi amor.” Alexia sighed, sliding her hand up the back of your shirt and splaying it across your spine, knowing you liked to feel her skin on yours. 

“Sorry I woke you early.” You whispered. 

“Don’t be sorry. I am always happy for 15 extra minutes to lay with you.” She said sweetly, tucking her face into your hair and sighing contentedly. She knew that if she kept herself calm, and didn’t react to your anxiety with her own, you’d be able to stay calmer. 

It felt like only minutes later that your second alarm was going off, and you groaned into your girlfriend’s chest as it did. Extracting herself from your rather tenacious grip, Alexia quickly rose from the bed and walked around to your side, grabbing your hand before you could bury yourself under the covers. 

“No hiding, amor. Time to be brave for me, sí?” 

Not one to deny any of your girlfriend’s requests, you let her tug you from the bed with a pout, one she very determinedly kissed off your face. Once she was done with that, she pulled you into the bathroom. 

“Okay. Shower quickly, I will eat something, and then we leave at 7:03.” She said, as if that was a normal time to plan to leave. You were long used to Alexia’s strict punctuality, though, so you just shook your head fondly at her. It was only when she attempted to pull away from you that your anxiety really rose, and you clung onto her hand with a look of panic on your face. 

Alexia turned back to you, expression completely open, as if she was ready to do whatever you needed her to do to feel better. 

“Shower with me?” You asked shakily, looking up at your girlfriend with wide eyes. 

“Siempre, guapa.” 

Your movements were practically robotic as you undressed yourself and allowed Alexia to guide you into the shower. For a moment, you allowed yourself to just rest against her under the warm stream of water, forcing yourself to breathe in and out slowly. As always when you showered together, Alexia insisted on washing you herself. Somehow, she knew that you needed to use the special medical soap on your chest, but could use your regular body wash everywhere else. 

You thought you caught a glimpse of sadness as she gently washed over your chest, and she must have felt you stiffen under her hands, because she was tilting your chin up and looking down at you, forehead crinkled in concern. 

“Are you sure you won’t hate what I look like after?” You asked, voice wobbling. 

Your girlfriend’s face softened. “I am sure. I will love you all the same.”

“You won’t miss them?” 

“Oh I will miss them. I should say farewell, no? Goodbye,” Alexia said wistfully, cupping each of your breasts in her hands. “I will miss you, but I will be happy when you stop bothering my pretty girlfriend.” 

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes, flushing at the attention on your chest, but feeling your heart soar at how genuinely she seemed to mean what she was saying. You appreciated her honesty. It wouldn’t have been believable that she wouldn’t miss them at all; the blonde had made it very clear in your time together that she very much enjoyed them. But for Alexia, she’d happily give that up if it meant that you were happier and more comfortable. And then felt like another level of love she must have for you. 

 Alexia leaned down to kiss you again, this time a bit more intensely as the water rained down over your heads. 

She broke away after a minute, a satisfied smile on her face telling you she was pleased that she had successfully distracted you. And distracted, you were. 

“Do we have time to-”

“No.” Alexia said sternly. “That is why we made sure to have enough time last night. We will not be late because you are horny even after I made you co-”

“OKAY. I don’t want a reminder if I can’t really enjoy the reminder.” You argued, barely noticing how Alexia turned the shower off and wrapped you in a towel. She really was doing a good job distracting you, because the mere step forward in your morning routine didn’t make you nauseous like it normally would have. 

The rest of the morning, Alexia went out of her way to keep you distracted. Whether it was giving herself a beard with bubbles in the shower, or forcing you to have an impromptu dance party in the kitchen while she ate a quick breakfast, your girlfriend gave you very little time for your mind to wander. Once you were in the car, though, it was inevitable. You were on the way, and there was nothing else to think about. 

Alexia kept her hand on you throughout the ride, noticing as you grew quieter as she pulled out of the drive, and brushed a few tears away when you thought she wasn’t looking. 

“Alright, mi amor?” She checked, well aware that you were not even close to alright.

“I’m so scared.” You whispered, Alexia just barely hearing your voice over the hum of the car engine. She moved her hand from your bouncing knee to grab onto your hand, squeezing it three times. 

“I know. Everything is going to be okay, amor. They do this every day, you will be in such good hands.” 

“What if I wake up in the middle?”

“You will not.” She sounded so sure. 

“What if I don’t wake up at all?

“You will wake up.” Again, her voice was filled with confidence. Whether it was truly what she believed, or if she was just saying it for your sake, you didn’t know, but you appreciated it nonetheless. 

“What if something goes wrong and I come out with three boobs or something?” 

“I will buy a sewing machine, and get to work making bras for three boobs.” Alexia said seriously. 

You gave a wet laugh, wiping at your eyes. Alexia smiled at you happily, fixing her eyes back on the road as the light turned green. Her hand didn’t leave yours the rest of the way to the hospital. 

------

Without Alexia there with you, it was likely that you would have bolted out the front doors of the hospital within a few minutes of arriving. You weren’t alone, though, and Alexia began to resort to absolutely ridiculous tactics to distract you and see a smile on your face. 

First, she blew up a glove she found in the room you were brought to wait in and then let it fly all around. It wasn’t really funny but the way she released it, and then looked at you with a hopeful grin on her face made you laugh anyway. If you counted correctly she made six bad jokes when they made you take a pregnancy test, that had you giggling even though they were quite juvenile. As the nurse put your IV in, the blonde reminded you of the time she got stitches in her leg on the sidelines of the football pitch, in the middle of the game, going so far as to point out the scar on her shin that you’d seen many times before. This wasn’t really funny either, but the somewhat disturbed look on the nurse’s face was. 

She was goofy when you needed her to be, she was serious and listened carefully whenever anyone was telling her important information, and she didn’t let go of your hand for the entirety of the pre op process. The minute your heart began to pound in your chest, or tears began to well in your eyes, you’d feel her squeeze your hand, and feel inexplicably comforted. Realistically, you knew Alexia had no ability to keep you safe once you were in the operating room. Still, you had the overwhelming feeling that because she was here with you, nothing bad could happen. 

“Okay, it’s time.” The nurse said kindly, walking into the room just moments after the surgeon had left. He had drawn all over you while answering Alexia’s seemingly endless questions about your recovery. 

You looked at the blonde next to you, willing yourself to remain calm, breathe deeply. She leaned in, kissing you softly. Once on the lips, then once on each cheek. 

“I love you. You are going to do so well, mi amor. I will be right here when you wake up.” She promised, helping you to your feet and squeezing your hand one last time. “Brave for me, okay?” the last part was whispered just for you to hear, and you nodded.

You could be brave for her. For her, you could do anything. 

“I love you, Ale.” 

She smiled at you until you disappeared out of sight, finally allowing the anxiety she’d been repressing all morning to let itself be known. It was going to be a long three hours, and she’d known that. She was absolutely resolved not to let you see her own nerves, knowing they’d only make you feel worse. Already calling her Mami as she was led to the waiting room, she hoped she did a good job at making you feel more comfortable. And she hoped, more than anything, that you’d be okay. 

-------

It felt nearly impossible to keep your eyes open. They opened and closed of their own accord, the room a bit different every time. Very vaguely, you recognized the surgeon coming to talk to you, saying something about everything going well. A nurse asked you about pain, and you focused enough to notice a slight twinge on your chest. 

The only coherent thought you had, though, was of your girlfriend. She said she’d be here when you woke up, and the beautiful blonde was nowhere in sight. 

“Would you like a sip of water?” The nurse asked kindly, holding a straw up to your mouth. You shook your head, though, frowning dramatically. 

“Alexia.” You murmured, eyes falling shut once again. The nurse chuckled, replying even though she wasn’t sure you were hearing her. The heart monitor attached to you was making a rhythmic beeping sound, and you were bobbing your head along to it gently, though you didn’t seem aware of it.  

“We’ll bring you out of recovery in a few minutes, and then you can see her.” 

Sure enough, you felt the strange sensation that you were moving, before you opened your eyes once again. Now in a different room, there was a smiling face next to yours, a gentle touch on your cheek. 

“Ale.” You sighed happily, eyes half shut, but a big smile adorning your features. 

“Hi, bonita.” Alexia chuckled. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmm.” You hummed. “Sleepy.” 

Alexia thought you looked incredibly adorable, all groggy and happy to see her. Clumsily, you reached for her hand, pulling it to cup your cheek. Your girlfriend laughed lightly, stroking her thumb over your cheek bone. 

“Are you in any pain?” 

“I loveeeeeee you.” You sang, clumsily patting her face with your free hand. 

Alexia laughed again, her features soft as she gazed down at you. “I love you too, cariño. Can you tell me if anything hurts?” 

“Nothin’ hurts.” You slurred. “Are my boobs small?” 

“Sí, look. The buttons on your shirt aren’t pulling apart anymore.” 

You’d bought several cotton button up pajama shirts especially for the occasion, having been told not to lift your arms above your head to put a shirt on. As always occurred with button ups, though, the buttons pulled tightly across your chest. Or, they had. Now, the shirt sat unstretched across your chest, and you felt a staggering amount of joy course through you. 

“Oh.” You said weakly, blinking hard as your eyes filled with tears. 

Alexia’s face fell. “What? Does something hurt? What’s wrong?” She asked frantically, looking around for something to stop the pain you weren’t actually feeling. 

“No, no. It’s good, it’s happy. They’re small and my shirt fits. Shirts like this never fit right and now they do.” You cried, too out of it to really feel embarrassed for crying so hard over such a small thing. 

“Oh, amor.” Alexia whispered, feeling like crying herself. She knew more than anyone how much you struggled with the way you’d looked before. She’d genuinely never seen you look so happy over your appearance before, and it was her new favorite thing. “I’m so happy you’re happy.” 

“I’m happy.” You mumbled, allowing Alexia to dry your face of tears. Carefully, Alexia brought the water to your lips again, and this time you drank some, feeling more and more awake with every passing second. And even though she was pretty sure you wouldn't remember this later, Alexia had to make sure you knew something. 

“You know what, amor?” She asked. 

“What?”

“You are beautiful. Even more beautiful now, with such a happy smile on your face.” 

It didn’t matter that you’d just cried, or that your hair was a mess. It didn’t matter that you were decidedly not beautiful at the moment. Because Alexia thought you were, and that made you think it, too. More than ever before, you felt beautiful like she said you were. 

------ 

The first two days went pretty smoothly. Everything ached a bit too much for you to really do anything on your own, and Alexia was more than happy to help. The trouble came after you were given clearance to shower, on the third day of your recovery. You wanted to do it by yourself, and Alexia was insisting on helping you. 

“No, Ale.” You snapped, trying to sit up and get out of bed on your own. Alexia wouldn’t move, though, still perched next to your legs, arms resting on either side of you, and honestly, you needed her help to get upright. 

She was being overly patient with you, and that only bothered you more; you didn’t like to be treated like you were fragile. “Amor, it says in the instructions, ‘have someone nearby to help for the first few showers.’’” 

“Nearby. Not in the bathroom with me. I’ll be fine, please just let me do this myself.” 

“It is not safe, I would like to be in there with you. I don’t understand, you have never had a problem with showering me before.” Alexia’s hazel eyes squinted at you, as though she was trying to visually ascertain what the issue was. 

“It’s different.” You grumbled, feeling your stomach twist at the idea of your girlfriend having to do another thing for you. Enough was enough, you had to be independent. If you couldn’t shower on your own, you’d feel completely helpless and you hated to feel helpless. 

“How is it different?” Alexia wondered, her patience with you still unwavering. 

“It just is! Move so I can get up, please.” 

The blonde just shook her head. “Not until you tell me how it’s different.”

“Alexia, I am disgusting right now, I’m gonna be all bruised and swollen and I haven’t showered in two days. It’s gross, I’m gross.”

She didn’t even blink, as though she’d already known this. “I don’t care about that, cariño. I just want to make this easier for you. Please let me help.”

“I don’t need help.” 

“You do, and that’s okay. Please, amor, just let me come into the bathroom with you. I’ll sit on the counter if you want me to, but let me be in the room. Please.”

Your girlfriend had a way of asking you things and making her eyes wide as she did so, making you agree without really thinking. It was genuinely difficult to say no to someone so pretty, who very clearly just wanted the best for you. This was how you found yourself in the bathroom, allowing Alexia to carefully unbutton your shirt and remove the bra from your chest. 

You’d tried to do it yourself at first, but it was ridiculously difficult to get your arms to do what you wanted them to do without pressing against your chest or your sides, and your yelp of pain had Alexia firmly telling you that she was helping you, and that was that. 

You waited for her face to turn disgusted, or at least for her eyes to give her away. It didn’t happen. She looked pained at the sight of the bruising on your body, but that was sympathetic. The kiss she gave you filled your body with warmth, but that warmth disappeared as soon as Alexia stepped away to turn on the shower, and you turned to look at yourself in the mirror. 

It was the first time you were really seeing your reflection, seeing the full results of what had been done, and you were more than a little horrified. 

When Alexia turned back around to help you into the shower, you had turned several shades paler, and your legs were shaking. Eyes fixed on your chest in the mirror, you looked completely disgusted with what you saw reflecting back at you. 

 Worried that you would pass out or something, Alexia stepped in behind you, carefully placing her large hands on your upper arms to hold you steady. “Amor? Feeling okay?”

“Dizzy.” You managed, leaning back into her. Alexia grabbed the water she’d had the foresight to bring into the bathroom, and carefully urged you to take a few sips. She knew how you were with stuff like this, ever since you’d passed out once watching her get stitches after a nasty tackle. 

“Just breathe. In through your nose, and out through your mouth. Don’t look if it’s bothering you.” 

“I-I… please don’t look, either, Ale.” You requested, shutting your eyes tightly. Alexia only hummed in response, resting her chin on your shoulder and rubbing her hands up and down your arms. “It’s awful, it’s so gross.” 

The bruising and the sight of the incisions through the tape over them was enough to make you nauseous, but Alexia being there only made it worse. She shouldn’t have to see you like this. 

She seemed unphased, though, her eyes on your face in the mirror, not distracted by your chest. “It looks exactly as the doctor said it should look. Your body went through so much, healing isn’t going to be perfect and pretty. Everything is okay, I promise. Just look at my face, and focus on me. Everything is okay.” 

You did as she asked, breathing deeply for a few minutes, your eyes fixed on hers in the mirror. Only when some color had returned to your face, and you weren’t shaking as badly, did Alexia move from where her body pressed to yours. 

“Are you ready? She murmured in your ear, enjoying that at least from this angle, from behind you, she could feel your body against hers. You enjoyed it too, your head dropping back to her shoulder as you nodded. “Okay. We’ll go quick. I’ll wash your body, wash your hair and then you can lay down.” 

Too afraid of what would happen if you stepped into the shower by yourself, you nodded again. 

It always struck you how gentle Alexia could be. On the pitch she was a force to be reckoned with, her body a well oiled machine that always got the job done. Her job was so physical, it always surprised you how soft her hands were, how gentle her touch was. 

She was so careful with you, especially now. The blonde maneuvered you under the stream of water, getting to work right away, as if she knew how exhausted you already were, just from standing for a few minutes. She hummed as she worked the loofa across your skin, intermittently leaving kisses wherever she saw fit. Done with that, Alexia moved on to your hair, her fingers feeling absolutely magical on your scalp after several days of it being tied back in a bun. 

You were mostly silent, only speaking to reply to Alexia’s quiet check ins every few minutes. It was only when she was facing you, massaging the conditioner out of your hair as you tilted your head back under the stream of water, that you said anything of substance. 

“Thank you for helping.” 

“Always.” Alexia mumbled, her lips pressed to your forehead. “I miss hugging you.”

You melted even further, as if the careful way she washed your hair for you wasn’t soft enough. “You’re adorable.” 

“No, I am tough and strong.” Alexia objected. 

“And incredibly adorable.” You insisted. For the first time that day, Alexia saw the ghost of a smile on your lips, and she made herself a promise that she’d make you smile more often. Even if she had to be ridiculous to do so, though it would prove to be harder than she wanted. 

------

It felt like there was a dark cloud hanging over you. You were irritated and depressed and near tears for no discernible reason. Alright, there was a reason, but you were too upset to really think rationally about it. Everything hurt more once you’d stopped taking the prescription painkillers you’d been prescribed, and the lack of the drugs was definitely not helping your mood. The last two days had been horrible, your recovery hitting a wall. It had been a week exactly, and suddenly, nothing was moving fast enough. 

Now that you were used to the sight, your breasts didn’t seem as small as they had at first. They were swollen, you kept reminding yourself, but the worry that they wouldn’t be small enough, that you’d gone through all this for nothing, persisted. It didn't matter that logically, you knew they were smaller. You’d seen what was removed, been told the measurements, and still. You’d convinced yourself they looked mostly the same. It hurt to move and showering took you at least an hour every time. You hyper fixated on your appearance, worried that now that your chest was supposedly smaller, everything else would be bigger. Alexia kept taking days off work, and when she didn’t, her mother or her sister would randomly show up with something random to drop off or pick up. You hated that she felt like she couldn’t leave you alone, and you hated even more that she was right to feel that way. You couldn’t lift anything, could barely sit up on your own. Your girlfriend was stuck helping you with every little thing, from showering to walking down the stairs. It was miserable. 

It felt like she asked you every other minute if you were in pain. And god, you were. More than you thought you’d be. Everytime, though, your answer was the same. Just a bit, you’d tell her. Both of you knew you were lying. You’d grit your teeth and bear it, unwilling or perhaps unable to admit to Alexia that your chest ached and stung and pulled and hurt. Your brain didn’t feel much better. 

Of course, Alexia knew you were miserable. The doctor had warned her this might happen; it wasn’t uncommon for individuals to fall into a depression after surgery like this. There were a lot of complex emotions involved. Combine those emotions with pain and narcotics, of course you didn’t feel like yourself. She’d been awake last night, when you’d cried next to her, holding her hand like a lifeline even as you stayed as quiet as you could. Alexia knew you didn’t want her to see you in pain, and if she could bring you comfort because you thought she was asleep… she’d take that. 

Still, though, every part of her ached with how sad you seemed, and how shut down you’d become. She was sure that if you talked about even one of the things bothering you, you’d feel so much better. You weren’t talking, though, and Alexia was running out of ways to help you. 

The blonde had one final idea before she broke and called your doctor to tell him that you just weren’t coping well, and she really didn’t want to do that. So, she made you tea, put on a boring documentary, and played with your hair until you were half asleep on top of the covers of your bed, as snuggled into Alexia’s pillow as you could get at the moment. 

She gently roused you, informing you that she had to run out for groceries but she’d be back very soon, before grabbing her list and slipping out the front door. Alexia had assumed you’d gone right back to sleep, but you hadn’t.

Instead, you’d realized you had to use the bathroom, dragging yourself off your bed and into the bathroom. It was there that you bumped into the door, which hurt way more than it normally would have. It had been the last straw of an already horrible day, and you just couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t be brave anymore. 

Alexia had been in such a rush to leave so she could come back, that she forgot her wallet, turning the car around only a few minutes into her drive to return and grab it. 

“Amor, I forgot my-” Alexia’s whispered words halted as she walked into the bedroom, and the sounds of your sobs hit her ears. You weren’t in bed where she’d left you, and your girlfriend whipped her head around in panic. “Baby, where are you?” She shouted, able to tell that you were closeby. Answering her own question, she rushed towards the bathroom, only relaxing slightly when she found you. 

Hunched over by the sink, your shoulders shook with the force of your sobs. Somewhere in her mind, Alexia realized that the movement was likely causing you pain. The blonde hadn’t ever heard you cry this hard in her life, and when you whipped your head around to look at her when she pushed the door open, you looked broken. You only looked more upset at the sight of her, and your girlfriend tried not to panic. 

“Baby, are you hurting?” Alexia questioned, moving forward as her hands fluttered uselessly in the air. All you could do in response was continue to cry, and reach one shaky hand towards the blonde. “I need you to talk to me.” 

It was all just too much; you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You needed her to kiss you and hold you and promise that everything would be okay. “I..I- hurts, Ale, it hurts so bad.” 

“I’m so sorry.” Alexia frowned, giving your hand a squeeze. “What can I do?” 

“I d-don’t know, it just hurts.” You sobbed, your chest stuttering. 

“The crying is not helping, amor, try to breathe.” She encouraged, exaggerating her own breaths for you to copy. It worked only slightly, and your face was still contorted in pain. “Let me get you some more medicine.” 

“No, stay.” You panicked, only tightening your grip on your girlfriend’s hand. 

“Okay, I’m right here.” She cooed, trying to move closer and give you a gentle hug. You winced away from her, though, in too much pain and too afraid of it worsening to allow her close to you. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you whimpered, wanting the pain to stop if only so she could hug you. 

Pausing and pursing her lips, your girlfriend tried to think logically. Getting up was difficult for you, standing only worse.  Sitting propped up on the bed was the only way for you to be even slightly comfortable, so Alexia took each of your hands in hers. “Back to bed, okay? You’ll feel better sitting.” 

You nodded, and allowed your girlfriend to carefully lead you out of the bathroom, and back towards the bed. “Okay, almost there. You’re doing so well.” 

It felt ridiculous to be praised for something as simple as walking back to bed, especially as you needed her help to do so. Still, she sounded so earnest and encouraging you couldn’t doubt her sincerity. 

Alexia got you settled on the bed just how you liked, and adjusted the pillows until they were just right. You sighed shakily, shifting as you tried to get comfortable. 

“Tell me how to help you.” Alexia practically pleaded. 

“I want ice please.” You sniffled, desperate for anything to numb the pain on your body, and the pain inside your head. Alexia tucked the blanket around you, using her thumb to wipe a few tears off your cheeks, gazing at you regretfully. 

“I’m sorry, amor, the doctor said no ice, remember? It is bad for the circulation. I can get you more medicine and a cool towel for your head?” Her suggestions felt weak, and she wished she could just take it from you, take away how badly you felt. 

You nodded, a few more tears falling from your eyes as you did so. It seemed to Alexia as though every time she offered to help you, you cried more. She rose to go get what she needed, and you let your head fall back on the pillows, a few quiet sobs escaping. You wished you could stop needing her so badly. 

Crying too hard to notice her return, you jumped when she placed her hand on your upper arm, crying out quietly as you did so. 

“Easy, amor.” She soothed, handing you two pills and holding a straw to your lips. Once you took the medicine, she wiped the tears off your face with the wet washcloth in her hand, her features wrinkled with worry. You hadn’t stopped crying, and she didn’t know what else to do to help you. 

“Are you crying because it hurts, or because of something else?” She wondered. 

“I don’t know, I just can’t stop.” You whimpered, clutching almost desperately at your girlfriend’s hand. 

Letting out a sad, sympathetic sound you’d never heard her make, Alexia took her place on her side of the bed, scooting over so she was pressed up against the pillow that was pressed up against you. It was the best she could do at the moment, even if she wanted to pull you into her and never let go. You reached over the pillow to grab onto her hoodie, the brown one with holes all over it you liked to make fun of. She’d put it on earlier, hoping you’d do just that, but she’d had no luck. 

Alexia just watched you for a few minutes, both of her hands on you, tracing patterns into your skin wherever she was sure wouldn’t hurt you. It became clear to her that you were exhausting yourself, your eyes barely even open anymore as you wiped at the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. 

“Amor, you need rest.” She whispered, watching your eyes flutter open to look at her helplessly. 

How were you supposed to sleep when you were so upset? 

“I can’t.” 

“Try for me. Close your eyes, relax your body.” The blonde instructed, smiling despite herself as you instantly did as she asked. Grabbing the cool washcloth again, she folded it in half and draped it over your eyes. Sighing you settled back into the pillows a bit, chest still stuttering every few seconds, but less intensely than it had been. “Sleep, cariño. I’m right here, I love you, and everything is okay.” 

Her words had an incomprehensible power over you, and it wasn’t long before you were barely clinging to consciousness. The tears had stopped, and all you could really think about was that you were really glad that Alexia was here with you. 

------

Alexia wasn’t sure how long you’d cried for before your grip on her sweatshirt had gone slack, and you’d finally relaxed. She let you sleep for an hour or so, though, unmoving so she didn’t disturb you. She busied herself with her phone, placing an order of the things she needed so she didn’t have to leave you, but mostly, she just watched you sleep. Swollen and red eyes, tear stained face, uncomfortable frown on your face even as you slept, you were still the most beautiful person she’d ever seen in her life. 

Once the delivery was made, your girlfriend slipped out of bed as carefully as she could, heading for the front door. Turning around with the bags from the front porch in hand, Alexia jumped a little at the sight of you standing behind her. She hadn’t heard you follow her out of the bedroom, but she saw you now, more tears falling down your flushed face. 

“Hey,” she said soothingly, moving closer even as you backed away from her. 

“You were supposed to go grocery shopping and I ruined it,” you cried, feeling a little ridiculously upset that you’d messed up her plans. You just thought she needed the time away from you. It wasn’t as though you were pleasant to be around right now. “You didn't get to run your errands, I’m so sorry.”

“You haven’t ruined anything, mi amor.” Alexia cooed. “Come on, sit on the couch for me, and I’ll show you what I got.” 

Sniffling, Alexia led you to the couch, helping you sit down and once again, placing the excessive amount of pillows exactly as you liked them. She began to pull items out of the bags once she sat down next to you, explaining what she’d gotten as she did so in a very quiet, almost shy voice. 

“A new candle, it makes the crackle sounds you like. Your favorite candy. Some roses, and I will put them in a vase and you could put them next to your bed, if you want. This is supposed to be a cooling blanket, so you don’t get too warm. I noticed you were almost out of the hair ties you use, so I got more of those. You liked that one button up shirt you got, so I got more because they are easier than other shirts, and these are very soft.” She listed everything out, putting it all on the coffee table in front of you. 

It was endless, the number of things she’d bought for you. Favorite snacks, a book you’d mentioned wanting to read once. A new coffee mug, even though she always complained that you had too many already, just because she knew you’d like the color. One bag was full of the ingredients to make your favorite dinner. She grabbed the last bag off the floor, really rambling now that you hadn’t said a word in at least 2 minutes. 

“I can return this if you don’t want it.” She finished, pressing the small, plush elephant into your hands as her face turned red. “I thought he could keep you company when I’m at work, but it’s probably stupid-”

You cut her off, tucking the elephant under one arm as you tilted her chin up with your other. Her face fell further, because you were still crying. 

She didn’t know that they were no longer sad tears. 

“I love you.” You blubbered, absolutely sure that there weren't words to describe how grateful you were for her at that moment. Ale, your perfect, sweet Ale. What had you done in your life to deserve her? “I love the elephant, I love everything. What did you do all this for?” 

Alexia looked at you incredulously, her fingers linking with yours. “You have been so down. I just wanted to make you smile. I thought maybe one of these things could.” 

“Oh. I… I didn’t know you noticed. I thought I was doing a good job hiding it.” 

You would never be winning an Oscar, Alexia thought to herself. “Why would you hide that from me?” She wondered, her face adorably confused. 

“You’re dealing with enough from me right now, you don’t need-”

“I decide what I need and don’t need.” Alexia cut in, her voice so firm it had your head snapping up to stare at her. She wasn’t angry, though, just… passionate. “Don’t push me away because you think you are being too much. I knew what I was getting into when you scheduled this surgery. I arranged to have time off so I could take care of you. I know you are hurting and I know you are upset, and I want nothing more than for you to talk to me.” 

“You’re too good to me.” You murmured, eyes flitting all over her face, trying to memorize the sincere expression on her face. 

“This is what you deserve.” Alexia disagreed, her knee shifting over until it pressed into yours. “Now, I know you are hurting because you just had surgery, but I do not know what has you so sad. Can you tell me? Please?”

How could you say no to that? The issue was, you weren’t even sure where to start. “There’s too many things. I’m just… I don’t feel right.” 

Alexia hummed. “Amor, it is normal to be depressed after a surgery like this. It says in the post op notes, your doctor talked to me about it. This is normal, how you are feeling is normal and it isn’t going to last forever.”

It was the same thing you’d been telling yourself, except now it echoed around your head in Alexia’s voice, and that held so much more meaning. Nodding meekly, you wondered if you should keep going. 

“What else?” 

Nervously, you glanced down at your chest. You didn’t want to sound ungrateful. Not everyone got the chance to have this surgery, even if they needed it, and it felt so disgusting to complain. The feeling that they were still too big was unshakeable, though. 

“You don’t like how they look.” Alexia stated simply. You stared at her, jaw dropped, wondering suddenly if she could read minds. She gave you a small smile, tugging at her ponytail and fiddling with the ends of her hair. “That is normal, too. I read about it. They don’t feel different enough?” 

“No.” You replied quietly, still ashamed of your feelings. 

“They are still swollen. It will take three to four months for them to look how they are going to look. You have to be patient, you have to give yourself time. I know everything is overwhelming right now, but I promise you, they are smaller, and they will get smaller still.” 

This time, Alexia raised your intertwined hands to her lips, pressing a kiss to the back of yours. “What else?” She asked again. A mind reader, for sure, you decided. 

You bit your lip before speaking, though it was progress that you verbalized your feelings without Alexia having to guess. “I’m in so much pain. It’s taking so long to go away. You can’t do anything or go anywhere because you’re here helping me. I’m such a burden right now and I hate it. I’m so tired of this. I don’t want you to have to help me with every little thing.”

Alexia looked almost offended. “You have never been a burden a day in your life, and I am sorry that anyone has ever made you feel that way. I am happy to be here, and help you heal. Really, amor. You’ve wanted this for so long, and this part isn’t very fun, but you’re doing so well. It hurts, and it sucks, I know that. It feels like it’s taking forever, but it’s just barely been a week. You aren’t helping yourself by keeping all these negative thoughts in your head, either.”

“Probably not.” You agreed timidly. 

“Probably not.” Alexia echoed, her hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I am here for you because I want to be, so let me help, okay? It isn’t your instinct to tell me when you are hurting, or when you need help, but I want you to try, okay? Just try.” 

“I’ll try.” You promised. Because, honestly, if Alexia was this good at making all your fears and stressors melt away and she was happy to do it, there was no justification for suffering in silence anymore. 

“I”m proud of you. You are doing so well, and I love you. Everything is going to feel better soon, and until then, I am right here with you.”

“Are you going somewhere once I am better?” You asked teasingly, just the hint of a smile tugging at your lips. This did not go unnoticed by your girlfriend, who leaned closer and got a look on her face you knew to be her I just won look. 

“A smile.” Alexia grinned, pressing her forehead against yours, still making sure to give your entire midsection a wide berth. 

“It’s just for you.” You whispered, holding eye contact with her, and enjoying that it no longer felt insincere because you were keeping so much to yourself. 

“I’m not going anywhere. Ever.” Alexia promised. Her words were barely more than a warm exhale on your mouth, and before long, she was brushing her soft lips against yours, giving you the world’s most careful kiss. 

She had magical kisses, you decided. Magic hands, as they linked with yours. A magic smile that made you grin, too. Good taste in get better soon gifts, you thought, picking up the elephant and asking her if she’d thought of a name for it. 

“Alex.” She smirked, looking rather proud of herself. 

And maybe she had egotistical taste in names, but you were more convinced every second that she was right, that things would get better, and a bit of ego was something you could handle. Especially when it came wrapped up in a package with overwhelming amounts of love and care. You were the luckiest girl in the world, you’d never been more sure of that. 

Hours later, after you’d eaten your favorite dinner and lit your new candle, settling into bed with a much more relaxed look on your face, Alexia thought the same thing. She was the luckiest to have you. Your smile was worth everything, and she’d missed it these past few days. It didn’t feel like she’d have to miss it anymore, though, especially as you drifted off, your hand in hers. Lips curved just slightly upward. You always had a smile to give Alexia. 

------

i'm honestly not sure if this is too niche for people to enjoy, so i'd appreciate any thoughts anyone has :) this feels wildly vulnerable and i will do my absolute best to not get embarrassed and delete it 🙏 love to you all 🫶🏻🫶🏻🥰🥰

[ilovejoostklein]

Bad Journalism

You’re an annoying journalist trying to get a story out of Joost, but he knows that’s not what you really want // joost x fem!reader

nsfw: smut, one shot

-

The news that Joost was disqualified had sent shock waves through the entirety of the Eurovision. You heard the news first through whispers, not believing it at first until it was in every headline, plastered over every local news channel, and blowing up all your group chat messages. 

You felt bad for him more than anything. Your heart sunk for him, especially when some of your colleagues had not one bit of empathy for him, and were itching to corner him for a story. You’d passed him a few times in the hallway, smiling at him or waving, he was like a beam of sunshine in every room and captivated the audience with infectious excitement and charisma. You didn’t want to admit it, but you found him incredibly attractive. You found yourself scrolling through his socials late at night and never missed any of his rehearsals. It was clear he was the favorite, and it was all ruined for him now. 

It was the heat of the moment, tensions were at an all-time high. Everyone at Eurovision, both behind closed doors and in hushed voices out in the lounge areas, and everyone on social media who followed the competition talked about Joost. It was all in whispers, yet completely in your face at the same time. No one could avoid it, it was more than an elephant in the room at this point. 

As a journalist, it was like a mosquito constantly looming at your shoulder, irritating you that you could do nothing about it in good conscience. Your boss was hounding you and your colleagues for someone to get a word out of him, incentivizing you all to no end with bonuses, paid vacation time, or even a promotion. It didn’t help that journalists from other papers and countries all shared the same ambition, and some were far more aggressive and weren’t afraid to make it known. You wondered if those shared smiles meant anything at all, and if there was a chance he’d be more receptive to give you a statement rather than the other journalists who didn’t have the best intentions. 

You tried to formulate a plan to gently approach him and try to get even a sentence out of him. Your conscience wrestled with each other. Your boss zeroed in on all of you specifically soon. He complained that you and a few other colleagues in particular weren’t performing up to par, and he was threatening termination. 

“A lot of you are proving yourselves to be dead weight, you especially. You can show you deserve to be on this team by getting a story.”

You fell into a panicked state of anxiety for the next few days. You could barely sleep or eat knowing that your livelihood was now on the line. You’d been so excited that you secured a job at a top company, and now it was all in jeopardy over this nightmare of a situation. The journalists were now in their competition, and that alongside your boss’s threats gave you a new sense of determination.

You waited for the evening when you learned that Joost would be down for a mandatory meeting with members of the EBU. You gave false tips to other journalists who heard about the meeting as well, who believed you hesitantly, but you’d made yourself seem non-threatening and docile since the very beginning. In a way, it still held. It took everything inside of you to keep the shakiness of your voice hidden, and you concealed your nervous body language as harmless fidgeting. 

You noticed him come out, and it was as if it was a different person. The room filled with anxiety and anger, from the both of you. His face was concerning stern, he dressed in basic, dark colors instead of his usual fun, unique outfits that always drew attention. He was alone, and like the fox you were, you cornered him. 

“Hi, Joost.” You greeted him, immediately approaching him. “Did you just leave a meeting with the EBU?” 

You glanced over at you, his eyebrows knitting together as if there was some sort of betrayal. He vaguely recognized you from the fleeting glances in the hallway, a bit disappointed knowing that you were just like all the others. 

“I’m in a bit of a rush.” He mumbled, hoping that it would be enough to shut you down. “I’m sorry.”

You were so overcome with adrenaline you didn’t hear him, doubling down you continued to pester him. “Can you say anything about your disqualification?” You asked, seeing a blush immediately appear on the apples of his cheeks. “Is it true you assaulted someone?”

It was like a switch was flipped. You felt yourself grow cold immediately at the way he looked at you with deep offense. You’d jumped your questions prematurely, not giving him time to warm up to you, or even intelligently posing them. You’d made a complete mess of things and your failure plunged you into mania. There was no going back now, you’d either get a story out of him or make one. 

Joost ignored you, he had to unless he wanted to make matters worse for himself. If you were a man, and not a woman looming at his side, staring up at him with big doe eyes and a blush that rivaled his own he would’ve pushed you away. He desperately wanted to take your stupid phone and throw it across the room before telling you to fuck off, but he tried to keep himself level-headed. He repeated like a mantra that all he needed to do was get into the elevator and go to his room, then it would be over. If you followed him then he’d have good reason to call security to haul you away. 

He didn’t anticipate that you would use the fact he couldn’t hurt you to your advantage. You weren’t sure what came over you either, shocking yourself as much as you shocked Joost you yanked off his headphones from his neck and ran towards the elevator.

He chased after you without thinking, rushing past the closing silver doors as you desperately pushed the button to try to shut him out but your efforts were in vain. Your eyes shot open and you felt yourself move to the corner of the elevator, clutching the heavy, expensive headphones to your chest. Your breathing was erratic, you rendered yourself speechless as the man stood mere inches away from you. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” He questioned in a low tone that bubbled with anger. “Give it back.”

“Answer my questions.” The calmness of your voice shocked you, and you looked up at him like it was an implicit dare. You knew as well as he did that he had no intention to hurt you.

“Don’t do this.” He pleaded, his head falling to the side. Yet still, his tone was angry and his body language rigid. He held out his hand, “Just give it back, and we have no problems. Ok?”

“No.” You stood your ground, hearing the elevator ding open to his vacant floor. 

“No?” He laughed in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

You didn’t say anything, feeling yourself on the verge of tears from the intensity of the situation you left the elevator and walked down the hall aimlessly as he called after you in a hushed tone.  You knew it wasn’t out of gentleness, but because he didn’t want to cause a scene like you had. You felt like you completely lost sight of yourself, you’d played dirty and this was exactly the kind of journalism you abhorred. 

“Come here.” Joost began to approach you as if you were a wounded animal, “Just give it back, and I’ll answer three of your questions.”

“Really?” You asked, surprised by the easy defeat. He nodded, his face so genuine that you completely believed him. 

You handed the headphones back and he practically ripped them from you, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Now go away before I call the police on you.” He spat. “Verdomde eikel.” He mumbled under his breath as he turned to walk back to his room.

You were overcome by the same adrenaline that you felt when he walked out of the conference room. You followed him to his room, no matter how many times he told you to fuck off and slammed the door in your face you weren’t going away until he gave you what you wanted. 

You knocked on the door until your knuckles were raw and aching. Almost an hour went by, some people peering out of their rooms but ultimately paying you no mind. Joost finally opened the door, just enough to peer out with one of the locks to keep you two separated in case you tried another one of your stupid tricks. 

“I don’t want to call the police on you.” He seemed to have calmed down, the cigarettes and alcohol in his breath further indicating it. “Go away, you’re too pretty to be acting like this.”

You huffed in frustration, “I’m trying to help you.” you tried to make something up as you went, “The other journalists tried to wait for you, I told them a lie to get them to go away. If you give me a story you won’t have to worry about them as much.”

“Ah, well.” He shrugged, “I’ll take my chances. Goodnight now.”

You put your arm in the door, a last effort to prevent him from shutting you out again. “Please, Joost.” You said shamelessly, now feeling like you’d just had a dopamine crash and all that was left was shame. 

He looked at you for a moment, head coming to the side his head eyes narrowed almost inquisitively before he busted out in laughter. “Oh fuck, I hope you’re not who I think you are.” He said amid his mockery, burning tears immediately forming in your eyes, “What’s your name?” 

You mumbled your name pathetically, your head somewhat bowed to avoid eye contact before he howled in laughter, “No fucking way.” He repeated over and over, the mockery hitting you like nails and making you bleed with miserable shame all over him. “You’re the journalist, my friend told me about you.”

You realized why his reaction was so over the top, and if anything it was warranted. 

You recall when it was only the second day of the competition, everything was still in the very early and most exciting stages. You shared the elevator with a man from the Netherlands, tall, curly hair and dark skin. He complimented your shoes, you complimented his back and you two made small talk. He said that he was just an enthusiastic fan, something that you now knew was a white lie, and asked you about your job and what you thought of the performers. 

“I like your guy from the Netherlands.” You said, smiling at him. “I’d fuck him.”

His eyes widened, and he looked at you in disbelief for a second before smiling back. “Yeah.” He finally said. “Me too.” 

You didn’t know how you could be so clueless, and how you didn’t connect the dots that it was him in that costume performing alongside Joost all this time. He had captivated you so much, that you hardly paid any mind to the other performers, as talented as they were, much less his two friends at the side of the stage. 

“You just wanna fuck me, huh?” He questioned in a sarcastic, degrading tone. “Are you even a journalist?”

You stayed silent, knowing that whatever you said would just make everything a million times worse, or even make you completely break down. It was again, like everything you were doing at this point an empty effort. The tears fell on your face like pieces of hot coal, burning your skin in sorrow and embarrassment. Your chest constricted in quiet sobs, you didn’t understand why your feet felt sewn to the carpeted floors and your arms bound to the doorknob of his room. 

Joost expected this, he could tell from the way your once vibrantly pretty face lost all its color and your eyes became low and glossy that you had lost your strength. He knew someone like you was weak, hardly cut out of this type of journalism. He felt bad almost, knowing you would do much better tucked away in an office, away from people like himself whose personalities completely overpowered yours. He was a performer, after all, so he couldn’t blame you. Joost knew he was soft underneath this hard exterior, and no matter how badly you offended him he couldn’t bear to see you so upset at his expense. 

“Alright.” He relented, sighing and unlocking the door completely as a form of surrender. “I will make a deal with you.”

Your face was buried in your hands, trying to stop and wipe away the tears to the best of your ability, but you still managed to nod. 

“Either you come in here, I answer the three questions you asked about.” He offered, “Or, you come in here and I fuck you, and I don’t answer anything.”

If you couldn’t stand to look him in the eye before, you certainly couldn’t do it now. “The second one.” Your voice was strained, weighed down by your sobs it was nothing less than humiliating. 

You heard Joost’s chest jerk in laughter, and he didn’t have to verbalize how pathetic he thought you were. You were fully worn down now, accepting defeat and realizing that you were so deeply depraved to choose physical pleasure over your literal job. He let you in, shutting the door behind you heard nothing but the turning of bolts and his soft footsteps. There was no turning back now, even if you came to your senses, there was no way your body would allow it. 

“Wait for me in my bedroom.” He said all too casually, “I’m going to have a cigarette.”

The white hotel sheets were cold and uninviting under your warm skin. You began to undress down to your underwear, it was unassuming, the fact that it was black and matching was your only saving grace at sexiness. You found yourself waiting for several minutes, but as you clutched your knees to your chest and shivered from the notoriously harsh hotel air conditioning it felt like hours.

Joost seemed to be stringing you along, and enjoying every bit of it. He came back inside from the porch, walked into the bedroom, and paid you not even a glance before walking into the bathroom. You felt your humiliation plummet to new depths, especially when you heard him turn on the shower. The least he could do was say something, instead of walking past your almost naked body as if it was the least interesting thing in his room.

The excruciating wait ended once he left the bathroom, steaming and smelling of the freshest, most intoxicating body wash you’d ever smelled. It was perfectly masculine, eucalyptus and citruses you wanted to wrap yourself in it. 

Joost approached you, watching as you crawled to the edge of the bed, looking up at him with your raw, puffy eyes it was almost erotic. You’d put yourself through so many emotions just to get a word out of him for your pathetic little job, and now you were on his bed, desperate for his touch. 

He was always a man of his word, so naturally, he was a little ashamed that he tricked you earlier and wanted to make it up to you by not forcing you to beg for him. He unwrapped the towel, his cock springing loose in front of your face. Your face gave away your reaction, showing him that you weren’t used to his size and stroking his ego a little more. 

“Go ahead.” He encouraged, “I hope you’re better at this than you are at interviewing.”

You took him into your mouth eagerly. It was almost like a wish being fulfilled, or being in a dream your depraved mind had conjured up. He felt incredible in your mouth, the way your lips stretched over him and how the tip nudged at the back of your throat did nothing but excite you. You hummed and moaned against him in contentment, the vibrations on his cock driving him wild. Your mouth was perfect, and you had something to prove. This was exactly what you wanted, you weren’t sure who the winner here was. 

Joost couldn’t let you have the upper hand, not yet at least. He grabbed your head and held it into place before he began to fuck your mouth. He wasn’t relentless, even if he wished he could be as the reminder of how you pestered him sat at the back of his mind. His thrusts were deep but mostly gentle. You gagged against him but breathed carefully through your nose and braced yourself with the rhythm he’d set. Saliva dribbled down your chin, your mouth so wet and warm he couldn’t imagine how it would feel like to fuck you. 

The desire was too overwhelming, he was impatient and desperate now, withdrawing his cock from your mouth. Your eyes were watery again, this time for good reason. You coughed a bit, regaining a bit of composure before Joost grabbed a handful of your hair and brought you into a kiss. 

It was the sloppiest, least romantic kiss you ever had. He shoved his tongue into your mouth and held you in place like you were an animal threatening to escape. Your body was aching almost unbearably now, you straddled him and pressed your pussy against his bare thigh and began grinding down on him with such desperation it made him chuckle into the kiss. 

“Slut.” He muttered against your neck, you shuttered against him before you felt his teeth sink into your skin, just enough to make you gasp. “You like that?”

“Mhm.” You groaned, your hips still moving against him hardly getting what you needed. “Please fuck me, Joost.”

His hand returned to your hair, this time pulling it so that you’d face him. He smiled almost drunkenly, his eyes low and dazed, “Can I eat your pussy first?” He asked the smug look on his face anticipating your reaction.

He laid you down on your back. You were a bit glad he wanted to pay attention to you. You fully expected him to fuck you from behind and kick you out, it would’ve been understandable, especially from the way you were acting and the fact he probably had dozens of girls who would kill to be in your place.

You felt the power balance restored as he buried his face between your thighs. He was as eager as you had been, licking and sucking on your pussy as if you had made the deal with him. His thick mustache burned the tender skin between your thighs in the best way possible, a reminder of what he’d done for you that would last at least till the next day. You felt nothing but the warm, blanketing pleasure. It felt like you’d just had a drink, your nerves had settled and all that was on your mind was finishing all over his pretty mouth. 

Your hands tangled in his hair, your back arched as you felt yourself grow closer. A part of you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of your thighs closing against the side of his face and moans pouring from your lips, but it happened regardless. Your body almost convulsed from the intensity, the pleasure making your body surrender and melt into his hands so much that you began apologizing. 

“I’m sorry.” You muttered continuously, your orgasm coming at its peak and then rolling over you, “I’m sorry Joost.” 

He didn’t say anything at first as his mind was foggy, and he was lapping up your pussy, avoiding your clit now to give you a moment of calmness and for his pleasure. You tasted good, and it was intoxicating for him. 

“It’s ok, baby.” His tone had now sweetened with you, even if you knew it was mostly from the intimacy of the moment. “I know what you need.”

Joost was overtaken by how turned on you made him feel. He loved how he was putting you in your place, how he had softened the stone-like scowl on your face, the sharpness in your voice and movements to something so perfect. He kissed you again, this time just a few pecks before you felt him press the head of his cock against your pussy. 

He rubbed up and down, every time he passed over your sensitive clit you jerked up in overstimulation. He had condoms in the dresser, but you hadn’t brought up the matter so he decided to disregard it. If anything he’d give you some money for the morning-after pill, but that was the last thing he wanted to worry about. 

Joost groaned loudly, almost overly dramatic as he began to push himself inside of you. You trembled beneath him, letting out sounds of discomfort from how big he was, the sensation new to your body that you instinctively began to push him away with one hand and attempt to cover yourself with the other. 

“Move your hand, please.” He told you, “I promise I’ll stop if it hurts.” 

It was a bit of a struggle, he had to stop a few times to allow you to adjust yourself to his size before he was able to bottom you out. It was all worth it, the pestering and the headache to have you beneath him.  He fucked you slowly at first, pulling out until only the tip of him was inside of you before plunging himself back inside of you. Your pussy squelched and squeezed around him, your eyes screwed shut as you brought him into an embrace. 

Joost kissed you on the cheek, resting his face against you he picked up his pace until it was something almost punishing. The thoughts of what you had done before were now at the forefront of his mind, that horrible feeling intertwined with his passion for you. The sound of slapping skin filled the room, his grunts against your soft gasps. He hit the sweetest spot inside of you with every movement, the feeling so overwhelming you felt your orgasm building again. You tried to tell him, feeling as if hearing it would feel like a reward to him, but your body and mind were no longer one. The only thing that left your mouth was his name and desperate sounds of pleasure. 

Joost felt you come all over his cock, your pussy clenching around him as you cried out into his shoulder. He knew now he wasn’t going to last any longer, his movements becoming sloppy and the feeling of no friction, just how wet you were for him sending him over the edge. He would’ve loved to last longer, but he soon found himself pulling out and pumping himself over your body before coming undone all over your stomach. 

He marked your body, warm cum falling against your stomach and breasts as you were cooling down from the nearly out-of-body experience. Joost looked down at you, breathing heavily it was almost like he was admiring his work. He’d left bruises against your neck, your hair was disheveled, your face wet with tears, and the prettiest sight of all was that he’d finished all over you. 

He wiped down your body softly, kissing you when he was done before climbing under the sheets. He brought you into his arms this time, cuddling with you for a while before he spoke, 

“Are you hungry?” He asked in a whisper, you giggled in response and nodded. 

“Alright.” He nodded, “Maybe I’ll answer some of your questions after.”

-

hope you guys enjoyed :) this is a cross post from my ao3 if you wanted to check it out there

[fatkish]

Hi!! 🐶 anon here. Was wondering if I could request a sort-of sequel to the last fic I requested? Like the reader after being rescued by him has separation anxiety from him and their therapist recommended for now reader stays close by him, so he’s taking a break from hero work, but for teaching he just brings reader along? So basically 1-a seeing reader being clingy and stuff with Aizawa. Maybe they experience a PTSD episode, idk. Just something like that! Take ur time with this request ^^;;

Aizawa x SA Victim Reader Part 2

After going to a therapist for a few months, the therapist decided that it would probably be best to slowly reintroduce you to social situations

Since Aizawa was the only person who you seemed to trust wholly and entirely, your therapist suggested that he work with you

The first few activities were simple enough

A walk in the park, literally, you both held hands or stuck together as you spent an hour in the public space

The next was a picnic in the park, Aizawa had made Bentos for the both of you. They had chicken Katsu on top of fried rice and for sides he put stir fired vegetables and some seaweed wrapped tamagoyaki. He brought a blanket with you guys as well as drinks and you both sat together and ate your lunches

Plenty of women would giggle seeing such a cute seen of a father and daughter

After a couple of these outages your therapist suggested slightly more densely populated areas

So your next adventure was grocery shopping with Aizawa. He promised you that you didn’t need to worry or feel paranoid because he’d be watching your back

You were slightly anxious when walking down aisles that other people were in but you simply held Aizawa’s hand and persevered

After each outing Aizawa would give you a soft smile and tell you how well you did and how he’s so proud of you

If you panic or freak out, he’ll pick you up and have you focus on him, and tell you that you’re safe because you’re with him and he won’t let anything hurt you

During one of the grocery trips, a kind old lady remarked about how cute it was seeing a little girl with her dad

After giving you a compliment the old lady offered you a candy to which you looked at Aizawa to see if it was okay. He smiled and gently nudged you forward and you accepted it and thanked the lady.

After a few more outings at places like grocery stores, restaurants, the mall basically just any place where people are closer together, and after having a few interactions with people, your therapist thought it was time to focus on social interactions

For this, Aizawa begrudgingly agreed to getting you a service/guard dog. Basically the dog would stay at your side and alert to any potential threats and lead you away. If you had a panic attack, the dog would sit or lay on you and help ground you. If someone tried to attack you, there were specific words in a foreign language that would tell the dog to attack

Now that you had this dog, Aizawa decided it was time he returned to teaching

The first thing he did was introduce you to the teachers. Coincidentally, Vlad kind had brought his bulldog in that day. You immediately warmed up to his dog and was somewhat okay with him since he kinda looked like his dog

Later you met Nedzu who you immediately had the urge to pet. Aizawa thought Nedzu would be mad when you pet his head and asked if he was Mickey Mouse’s cousin

Nedzu laughed and smiled not bothered at all by your curiosity, infact, Nedzu was more than happy to help teach you and satisfy your curious mind

After a few days getting to know the school, Aizawa decided to introduce you to his class

This is when things went south

Despite having warned his students (particularly a certain grape head) about your past and to be careful with their words, some obviously didn’t get the memo

Upon entering the class, many had greeted you which spooked you a bit

The first students you were comfortable with were Asui, Momo, Koda and Todoroki

Asui and Momo seemed very mellow and almost motherly in their calm and relaxed demeanors. Todoroki was quite and greeted you once but then seemingly ignored you which actually made you feel good because you felt that it meant he wouldn’t come after you. Koda was quite but your dog seemed to like him which is why you trusted him

The students had tried not to scare you but Iida, Bakugou, Ashido, Uraraka, Kirishima and Kaminari had spooked you

Ashido had practically jumped on you telling you how cute you were which scared you, Uraraka, and Iida were really loud which scared you. Kirishima didn’t really understand personal space to which Kaminari tried to tell him off, albeit, a bit loudly, which them prompted Bakugou to use his quirk setting off explosions and yelling at everyone to shut up cause they’re obviously scaring you

When the class went quiet it allowed for you to hear what Mineta had said

Of couse, he had to make a comment about how hot you’d look in a few years as he imagined you with a curvaceous body whilst making a lewd face and drooling

This triggered you

Bakugou immediately slammed his hand down on Mineta’s desk setting of small explosions and yelling at him

You started to hyperventilate and ran away to Nedzu’s office since he made you feel calm

When Nedzu saw your upset state he made you some tea and offered you some cookies while he asked you yes or no questions

Whilst Nedzu calmed you down and talked with you, Aizawa yelled at his students and decided that something had to be done with Mineta. Once he managed to get his class back under control, he was about to deal out punishments when the door opened with Nedzu in front and you behind him

You ran to Aizawa and he immediately wrapped his arms around you. Nedzu then walked into the room and nodded at Aizawa, giving him permission (read as kindly ordered him) to leave the room

As Aizawa cradled you and walked you to the teacher’s lounge to settle you down, Nedzu asked the class what happened and after lecturing them for 2 hours, Nedzu finished his lecture by Expelling Mineta and blacklisting him from any hero courses

That night, Aizawa made sure to have your favorite food for dinner and made sure that you felt safe and gave you all the cuddles you could ask for

(Hope you enjoyed this puppy 🐶 anon. And I hope it helps)

[skyahri]

So..? |Kakashi Hatake X Civilian! Reader| HC

Summary: Kakashi finally musters up the courage to ask you out.

Warnings: Nothing, really. Pretty tame. Civilian reader.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

You worked in the hospital. It was nothing spectacular; the shifts are long, it can get a bit over crowded, and sometimes you don't even have time for a meal, but it's honest work.

You were decent with medical ninjutsu. You could heal cuts and bruises, but anything more was outside your skill set.

You have your fair share of regulars, Kakashi being one of them.

Sometimes, he's in and out - just there for a few stitches or a mandatory check-up after a long mission. Sometimes it's longer, like after his battle with Itachi or the Kazekage's retrieval.

You scold him every time for being reckless.

"Kakashi, you know what happens when you overuse your sharingan. Can't you at least try to be a bit more careful?"

He always dismisses you, promising that everything he does it put of 100% necessity.

You roll your eyes and fix him up regardless.

Its a lucky thing that you always end up taking care of him, or at least you think it is.

He's actually using his social pull to end up wherever you are. Kakashi Hatake, the copy cat ninja, is very well known and has earned more favors than he could ever cash in.

He remembers the first time he met you - it was several years ago, in this very hospital. He'd been injured during one of his Anbu missions and needed some critical care.

The hospital was swamped that day, and you were new. He could tell by how anxious you were. It was lucky that you had ended up with him, someone who wasn't picky about his treatment and wasn't bothered by nerves.

There was something about you, though he wasn't sure what. Yes, you're pretty, but he's seen lots of pretty girls. Maybe it was the confidence you emitted despite the cluster of the environment. Maybe it was the gentle way you touched him as yo wrapped his arm or the feeling of your chakra on his skin.

Either way, it stuck with him, and all the feelings he felt have only intensified over time.

Which is where we are now.

Eventually, he sees you outside of the hospital. A rare sight, really. He's perfectly healthy, between missions, and not being dragged around by his students for once.

Your last shift of the week just ended. You're carrying home your weekly grocery haul when he spots you and basically demands to carry some most of your bags.

He tries to chat you up, along about work, hobbies... potential partners?

"So what have you been doing outside of work, hm? Interesting... I see. And you do all of this by yourself, or..?"

You laugh, knowing he's fishing for specific information. He already knows you pretty well after seeing him so often at work. Maybe he forgot that fact in his stupor.

However, slick Kakashi thinks he's been all this time, knock it down by 60%.

You may not be a shinobi like him, but you're very well aware of people.

"No, Kakashi, I don't have a boyfriend."

He plays it off. Shoving his hands in his pockets and pretends not to be borderline giddy at this newfound information.

Once you reach your apartment, you have no problem allowing him entry so he can set your groceries down on your counter.

He looks around while you put things away. Everything embodied you perfectly. The plants, the color scheme, the decor. It was perfect.

Once you're finished, he becomes nervous again.

"So..."

"So?" You ask expectantly.

"Would you wanna meet up with me sometime? As a thank you for all you've done for me over the years, of course."

"Of course," you mock him lightly, crinkling your nose.

"I'd love to."

He let's out an animated breath.

"I'll pick you up tonight at 6? We can head to..."

The plans are set. Now, it's just a matter of patience before this long-awaited date.

Although you've been looking forward to this day for so many years, the anxiety is still there, and you're wondering how it'll go and if he likes you.

Little did you know he's having the same thoughts.

What if you didn't like him? What if he just damaged your friendship (could it even be called that considering how confined they had been to the hospital?) and now he's lost someone else because he's stupid?

Only time will tell, so may as well just shove down the nerves and prepare for what could be the beginning of something great.

[sleepymccoy]

I have some general anxiety about going to supermarkets aimed at specific cultures because the intended clientele is not lil white me and the staff often don't speak english and I feel inappropriate. But not once has this been true, and I've always enjoyed my visit. Anyway, that's a preface so you can appreciate how brave I am

My colleague recently made me lahpet which is a Burmese salad including pickled tea leaves, dried beans mix, and tomatoes. I loved it and wanted more. I live in a densely Chinese area and thought one of the many supermarkets might have something Burmese, so I brought the empty jar to every store.

Many don't speak english, but that's fine. I had a jar! All interactions basically went like this;

None of them knew Burmese so couldn't even tell me if they had something similar

I gave up and bought it online. Also had a hard time with that cos they don't deliver to apartments (got the vibe that it's just the shop owners son doing deliveries and he couldn't be fucked going upstairs. Valid). But I persevered and got three jars! And the dried beans mix I needed. Way too many dried beans, I totally misjudged the size of the bag being sold

I used one to show my friends this salad. They didn't go as insane over it as I did. I gave another jar to my dad who did go appropriately insane. He said he liked it, then five min later interrupted to say he really liked it, then after dinner spent time with me going through the ingredients and trying to figure out if he can pickle tea leaves himself. Booyah.

Regardless, this left me with one jar which I swiftly finished. So I'm on the hunt again and the online store stresses me out now cos they don't like apartments

I found a Burmese supermarket a few suburbs away and a twenty min walk from the station. Fucking worth it, it's added two hours to my commute home but I want these jars so much. I enjoyed the stroll. It rained a bit, so I saw a couple rainbows

In the store I was, again, immediately stressed. I went down an aisle and back again and found nothing. I found other pickled things! But not my tea leaves! I did not want this trip to be in vain, it was long and I had a shit day at work. I was really only doing it today cos the days a write off as a bad day so I may as well run an annoying errand

Anyway I pulled up the website and showed the lady at the counter a photo of the jar and she pointed me to them immediately. I returned like fifteen seconds later with four jars and she was already on a phone call with someone. I love workers rights. You're awesome, lady.

So I say four and hold four fingers up and pass her one jar. She scans and sets the price right. She then interrupts whoever's talking on the phone to ask me, "How you know this?"

So I quickly explained that my colleague made me the salad and I loved it. She pointed back at the aisle and said, "the beans, you need beans." So I was like "I have so many beans, I bought too many, I just need the pickled leaves." And she was already waving her hand at me in disinterest so I stopped talking and paid lol.

It was a long haul home. I passed and remember to take a photo of my favourite art installation, the tower of coffee cups in a pole.

There's no starbucks in my suburb so one of these at least has taken a long trip to get here. So did I today, my feet are sore

Anyway, I have four jars of miraculous pickled tea leaves. If you can figure out how to buy these ingredients I recommend it to serve alongside very fatty meals like lasagne or sausage cos it cuts through nicely. I also take a serving to work every day because the tea leaves are caffeinated so I'm skipping the second coffee

I love lahpet

[lapsthings]

I flunked my math paper again so here's how I think the blue glockers will do in ascending order (no glaze)

0-49%

Zantetsu Tsurugi 🤓

Sad thing is, he genuinely tried. He really gave it his all, immersing himself in study materials for the past week to ensure he was fully prepared. You could find him studying anywhere—whether in the cafeteria, passing through the halls, or even coming out of the toilet. He went to bed the night before confidently, walked into the exam hall confidently, sat down confidently, and handed in his paper confidently. When he received his paper back, he thought the big fat zero on the front meant he made zero mistakes

Igaguri Gurimu 🤡

Whines about studying, but ends up doing it because his parents forced him to. He grumbles as he picks up his book, pumps himself up for a motivational boost, but gives up after skimming the first page. Has the audacity to complain when he gets a failing grade

Gagamaru Gin 🐨

He lives in the forest, so Goatmaru was probably never exposed to the concept of education

Just kidding, surprisingly he does go to school, but my point still stands

Don Lorenzo 🧟

Sorry, bro grew up on the streets, he never went to school 💀. He picked up some basic numeracy from Snuffy, but that’s about it. Couldn’t care less though—you don't need to know about angles to count your cash, okay?

Raichi Jingo 💥

He forgot there was a test but somehow believes he can wing it. His overconfidence is bound to crash and burn when he gets his results back

Bachira Meguru 🐝

He casually picked up his textbook, flipped through all the pages, and called it a day

Charles Chevalier 😝

If someone doesn't specifically tell him to not study, he won’t even bother. Pretends to look up how to solve equations on YouTube, but he's really just watching Skibidi Toilet

Rin Itoshi ⚽

Surprise surprise, apparently he's only fluent in English and sucks at everything else

Otoya Eita 🥷

He’s got the potential to do well, but he’s too busy having fun with girls. Stealthy enough to copy off someone without the invigilator noticing, but gets caught anyway because he forgot to change up his workings

Kunigami Rensuke 🏋️ (post-wildcard)

He does not care 😭

Nanase Nijiro 😇

He gave his all in hopes of passing, but despite his best efforts, he fell short by a few marks :(

50-69%

Kiyora Jin 🍇🍬

He only puts in the bare minimum effort, so he barely makes the cut. Always hovering on the borderline between success and failure

Sendou Shuto 🩷

Goes like “Heh, I didn’t even study,” but the truth is he crammed everything the night before. Manages to pass though, good for him

Tokimitsu Aoshi 💪

He’s plagued by self-deprecating thoughts before, during, and after the exam. He's slightly more confident since his favorite subject is math, however his low self-esteem causes him to overthink, continuously changing his answers. Even after finishing, he’s constantly rechecking everything to avoid careless mistakes. Overwhelmed by anxiety when he gets his paper back, but lights up when he sees he got a decent grade

Aryu Jyubei ✨

He often stares at his study materials, but rarely does more than that. Instead of panicking about how under prepared he is, he’s too busy stressing over a big fat pimple on his forehead. Still ends up with a C…so not glam

70-79%

Niko Ikki 👀

He’d rather play Yu-Gi-Oh, but knows when to prioritize. He only puts in minimal effort, yet manages to get through because he’s a chad

Kurona Ranze 🦈

He sticks to recommended study methods and puts in the necessary effort, but still struggles with some concepts, resulting in a lower grade

Kunigami Rensuke 🏋️ (pre-wildcard)

He actually studies, even reaching out to others for help when he’s stuck. Unfortunately, he forgot to double-check his work and ended up with a lot of careless mistakes

Shidou Ryusei 😈

Huh? How did he end up here?

Hiori Yo 🎮

He doesn’t invest much time in studying, usually too busy being a #gamer. Despite this, he pays enough attention in class to get a good grade

Chigiri Hyoma 🐆💗

He pays attention in class and only studies to cover what he didn’t understand during lessons. Confident in his abilities, he doesn’t spend much time preparing for exams

80-100%

Oliver Aiku 🐍

Believe it or not, he actively listens in class and is disciplined when an exam is coming up. Very chill during the test, but instead of checking his work, he’s checking out girls

Alexis Ness 🪄

You cannot tell me he’s not a teacher's pet. He pays attention in class, completes his work diligently, and can be found in the library during lunch. He has a very organized study plan, so he avoids careless mistakes

Michael Kaiser 🌹💙

He’s smart enough to decipher complex formulas, dissecting problems before arriving at solutions using his own understanding. He truly is the goat

Yukimiya Kenyu 📸

Quite literally a model student. He’s a bit like Ness, but he also participates in group studies

Barou Shouei 👑

Of course, he gets good grades—he’s the king, after all, and he doesn’t settle for anything less. When asked about his study methods, or if he actually studies, he just tells them to piss off and walks away

Isagi Yoichi 🧩

He actually studies every day for about 30 minutes. He knows the key to math is consistent practice. Politely declines any invitations to hang out until exams are over

Nagi Seishiro 💤

Bro, how? He doesn’t study, sleeps in class, never does his homework. I guess he’s just cool like that

Karasu Tabito 🐦‍⬛♥️👑

Oh, Karasu, my beautiful, beautiful…

He’s an accomplished, well-rounded student who excels in every subject, including math, thanks to his determination to avoid mediocrity. His motivation and serious approach to his studies fuel his academic success

Sae Itoshi 😐

Unlike his brother, his academic success comes naturally to him—barely puts in work, barely breaks a sweat. I think it runs in the family

Reo Mikage 💳

You'd think he hired professional tutors, but he doesn't — he’s just that amazing

[kittymizuki]

thinking about the kamikou festival event again and how it conveys the tone and atmosphere of the school while showing the constant transmisogyny microaggressions mizuki lives with every day so well, and this phone call with an drives me insane bc even though an is genuinely well-meaning and is trying to ensure that mizuki knows that today is a safe day for her to come to school due to the circumstances of the festival, the way she words this is very discomforting bc she's basically saying "nobody is going to notice that you're dressed as a girl today bc everyone is wearing wacky outfits!" which carries the unfortunate implication that the way mizuki presents herself is equally wacky in a way that reinforces everything ppl say about her, but this isn't easy for her to push back against bc she doesn't have a good enough 'excuse' to do so when this is one of the few ppl who go out of their way to accommodate her even if they don't fully get it? it's thoughtful of an to want to reassure her but also it's another little thing that others fail to understand. she's trying to be kind but even then mizuki feels somewhat pushed into a corner. she's very bad at actively saying No. and an has removed her ability to misdirect here bc an is speaking with ambiguity.

mizuki also being too anxious about the idea of changing her clothes in school bc she's terrified of the possibility of being caught and thus having her body perceived by others... that's also another reason she'd hate being at school. gym and changing for it … i'd wager mizuki skips almost every gym class bc she can't stand the idea of being forced to change amidst boys, but she's also not allowed into the girls' locker room… literally only has the option to go to the roof if she wants to change. she's so hyper cognizant of her body and being seen … and the worst part is, she likes to be seen under her own circumstances and control (which is one of the many reasons she's very passionate abt fashion, and a lot of trans ppl in fiction tend to have an attachment to fashion and styling which makes a lot of sense bc of the element of control over one's appearance and making a self one can love). she really does. it just … happens that she knows she has so little control.

i've read the vbs main story (and a bit of their events but i need to continue whoops) and this makes me appreciate mizuki's brief interaction with kohane and an here more, bc it's obvious in this moment that kohane is just being her usual self—anxious around other ppl she's not familiar with and this is something she wants to improve upon (which as far as i can tell is the conceit of her character arc as an underdog of sorts compared to the others in her group). but mizuki assumes that she has to be uncomfortable with her specifically (presumably due to her transness) bc of her experiences, so she immediately feels bad about 'taking up space' and decides to make up an excuse to get away from the situation to give kohane the chance to comfortably hang out with her friend. and the fact that mizuki goes out of her way to say that she's going to find a place to hide alone is interesting bc the way it's framed it doesn't sound like it means much, but it feels deliberate on her part, like she wants an to know... mizuki's internal world and where we see she has internal bias and how she blames herself or assumes she herself is the problem if she can't make others comfortable, and she takes so much upon herself all the time bc she's used to constant microaggressions and either can't say how she truly feels or has to divest what she feels from its context to make it palatable. but of course kohane is not transphobic, she is someone who has trouble socializing with strangers bc of her own anxiety that has nothing to do with mizuki herself, but mizuki doesn't have access to this perspective like the reader so it's easy for her to assume that she's the problem. it's paranoia but it's understandable considering how she's treated by almost everyone...

[astrodice]

PAC: you and your imposter syndrome

this reading can tell you about your imposter syndrome and why you're not an imposter

🗣️ take what resonates and leave what doesn't. excuse my grammar/spelling mistakes if there's any.

Pile 1

Your imposter syndrome comes from fear of losing, fear of being not good enough. You might overwork yourself to the point of exhaustion. It's like you're always preparing for worse.

It seems like recently there was a situation where you've planned something ahead, actually put your hopes high for the first time but something went wrong/got cancelled. For some of you it was a rushed decision that you regret now. Basically, something went not according to your plan and that really made you feel more like imposter.

You're not an imposter because no matter the circumstances you always act wisely, you're an excellent communicator. You need to remind yourself that a few mistakes don't make you less of an intelligent person.

key words: exhaustion, fatigue, obstacles, delays, lack of growth, impulsiveness

Pile 2

Your imposter syndrome comes from focusing on negative past experiences. There is an extreme amount of mental angst. I see that there was a connection with someone that have ended on bad terms, or there was someone who made you feel inadequate.

Right now you have an opportunity to move on, to start something new but your past haunts you, causes you anxiety and make you feel unsure about you choices.

You're not an imposter because you're enough. People might judge you, misunderstand you but it doesn't make you inadequate. You bring something new, unique and that makes you stand out of the crowd.

I see luck coming your way after you done healing yourself. Soon you will feel more relaxed, calm and secure.

key words: failure, regret, fear, anxiety, empath, intuitive, endings, depression, healing, independence, success

Pile 3

For this pile I'm seeing a very specific scenario, so it might not resonate with many people here.

Recently some you were promoted, got a raise or become like a team leader. Which made you feel like you need to meet some sort of standard, that is required for your position. You also might feel like there's a pressure from you team members, like you have to do you work perfectly, so other people won't judge you or think of you as an unqualified worker. To sum up, there's a feeling that you don't deserve what you have.

You're not an imposter because you're very disciplined, reliable and practical. You're perfect for your job and your team is very lucky to have you. If you're facing conflict within your team, you have to step up and set rules/methodologies that can help your team work better.

key words: collaboration, authority, mentor, new position/project, public reward, success, burden, partnership

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

12: MENDING FENCES

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter

Bucky is finally trying to be more communicative about his feelings but you keep giving him things to worry about.

Word count 3.4k

Warnings: better communication between two idiots in love, insecurities, anxiety, panic attack, medical issues: surgery, allergies, anaphylaxis, tracheostomies, Tony Stark and is generosity is basically legend, Big Brother Steve is worried

"She’s stable." Steve told Bucky, the moment he sat down. 

Bucky heaved a sigh of relief. "Is she awake? Can we see her?"

"They’re taking her to surgery," Nat interjected, having appeared suddenly.

"How long will that take?" Bucky demanded. Surgery was never something to celebrate.

Nat shrugged, sitting down beside Bucky, the only empty seat in the waiting room that was filled by several other Avengers and Melinda May. Everyone was concerned about your wellbeing.

Steve glanced at Nat before turning back to Bucky. "They didn't give a specific time frame, but they said she's stable for now. That's a good sign, right?"

Bucky nodded, trying to hold onto that small glimmer of hope. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you, not after everything you had been through together. The memories of your laughter, your smile, and the way you always had his back flooded his mind, making his heart ache with worry.

Nat placed a comforting hand on Bucky's shoulder. "She's a fighter, Buck. She'll pull through this, I know it."

Bucky managed a weak smile, grateful for the support of his friends. He knew they were all rooting for you, praying for your recovery. The waiting was agonizing, each passing minute feeling like an eternity.

As the hours ticked by, the tension in the waiting room grew thicker. Bucky couldn't sit still, his leg bouncing up and down with nervous energy.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a doctor emerged from the operating room. Bucky's heart leaped into his throat as he stood up, his eyes locked on the doctor's face.

"She made it through surgery," the doctor announced, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "She's still unconscious, but the procedure was successful. She's a strong one, that's for sure."

Relief washed over Bucky like a tidal wave, his legs suddenly feeling weak with gratitude. He sank back into his seat, tears of relief pricking at his eyes. You were going to be okay.

Steve clapped Bucky on the back, a proud smile on his face. "See, I told you she's a fighter."

"Rogers!" Nat punched Steve's shoulder as he chuckled.

Bucky nodded, his heart overflowing with love and gratitude. He couldn't wait to see you, to hold you in his arms and never let go. You were his rock, his anchor, and he would do anything to keep you safe.

"She's stable," he whispered to himself, a mantra of hope and faith. And with that, Bucky knew that together, you would overcome anything that came your way.

"Can we see her?" Nat asked.

The surgeon looked around the room at the crowd of people in the room before answering hesitantly. "Maybe just one person." He held up his forefinger.

Bucky stood up and was about to stride into the recovery room, when May grabbed his metal arm. The glare she gave him terrified even him, stopping him in his tracks while she walked into the room to see you. But he knew that she had known you longer than anyone else, you considered her your closest family. So he conceded, grateful that she left the doors open so that he could peer into the room to where you lay sleeping peacefully. His heart started beating faster as you opened your eyes and took May’s hand.

He craned his neck as a nurse blocked his view of your face. Edging forwards slightly, creeping closer to you. Would you want to see him?

*

You woke up in a daze, the beeping of machines and the sterile smell of the hospital room filling your senses. You blinked a few times, trying to clear your head and make sense of what had happened. Memories flooded back to you in bits and pieces - Priya, the Vrellnexian, Steve… and Bucky. Had he really been there?

As you tried to sit up, you winced at the sharp pain in your side. May was by your side in an instant, her face etched with worry. "Take it easy," she said softly, helping you adjust the pillows behind your back. She had never been a fan of physical touch, but it was much worse since she got her empath powers.

As you let the air out of your lungs gently, you felt the tension melting away slowly and the pain subsided. "Thanks," you croaked, voice hoarse from the tube that had been inserted in your throat for surgery. "What happened?"

"Same thing that always happens." 

You rolled your eyes, focusing back on May just in time to see her gaze flick back from the other side of the room. You frowned at her, questioningly.

May shook her head, contemplating how much information to give you. You turned your head to follow her gaze but it was blocked by a cheery nurse who greeted you. 

"Right dear, my name is Gertrude. I'm here to give you your first dose of antibiotics. Is that alright?" Her tone was so chipper that you could feel May tense with irritation. 

You nodded, still drowsy from the effects of the anesthetic. May took a step back to allow Gertrude to do her job. The antibiotic felt like cold, seeping through your arm, spreading to your shoulder and straight into your heart. This was followed by a strange sense of euphoria, your heart was racing and there was a strange tightness in your throat and chest. A sudden craving for air filled your lungs and your skin felt like it was on fire, burning as though someone was prodding you with a thousand red hot pokers. 

From a distance, you heard May’s voice calling your name and someone else, someone so familiar. You strained your ears, but it felt like you were under water and your friends were so far away. You did everything you could to swim through the murky waters, but something was dragging you under and you didn’t have the energy to resist. But the voice, you knew it well, you missed that voice. You clawed your way up towards it but the forces acting against you were too strong and the darkness surrounded you, until you sank into oblivion.

*

You woke dazed and confused, your eyes fluttering open to the dimly lit hospital room. The first thing you noticed was the tightness in your neck, the feeling of something foreign lodged in your throat. Panic set in as you tried to sit up, only to be met with the sharp pain of the tubes and wires attached to you.

You reached up to touch your neck, feeling the hard plastic of a tracheostomy tube. What had happened? Everything felt hazy, memories out of reach and it was terrifying. As you tried to make sense of it all, you heard a soft snoring beside you. You turned your head to see Bucky, sitting in a chair by your bedside, his head lolling to one side as he slept in what looked like a terribly uncomfortable position.

"Bucky," you tried to speak but there was no sound. Instead you reached over with your hand, the one free from tubes. He was just about close enough for you to graze the skin on his arm.

He looked up with a start, his expression softening as your eyes met his. They were red-rimmed and weary, his usual stoic demeanor replaced by a look of sorrow. "I'm here," he said quietly, reaching out to grasp your hand.

You pointed at the trach in your neck and mouthed, "what happened?"

"Cricket, you had an allergic reaction. I didn’t know you were allergic to antibiotics."

You frowned in confusion, neither did you. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d taken antibiotics and you wondered what they had given you. It was as though Bucky could read your thoughts, he grabbed your chart from the end of the bed and held it out in front of you so you could read the name of the drug you had been injected with: ceftriaxone. You’d have to make a note of that for future reference. Bucky put the chart away, but not before glancing at it himself, making a mental note for himself.

"How’s the pain?" Bucky asked, softly.

You lifted your hand holding it parallel to the mattress and rocking it slightly. Bucky nodded, sorrowfully. "I'm sorry, I should have been there for you. I'm so sorry." His words held a multitude of meanings.

In a flash, it felt like nothing had happened between you, his presence was the comfort you sorely sought and all was forgiven. You tried to speak, to tell him that it wasn't his fault, that you didn't blame him for the past. But the words caught in your throat, the tracheostomy tube making it impossible to form coherent sounds. Instead, you squeezed his hand, trying to convey your gratitude through a simple gesture. But Bucky understood your unspoken message.

"I made a mistake," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought you didn’t care about me. But I know now that I was wrong. You’ve always been there for me. I miss our… us and I want to make things right."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at Bucky, the weight of his words sinking in. You had never stopped caring for him, never stopped loving him. And in that moment, you knew that forgiveness was possible, that your bond could, not only be repaired, but had the potential to grow stronger. You reached out and pulled Bucky into a tight embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. In that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, at the very least, your friendship would endure. 

As your whole body trembled with emotion, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned to see Nat standing there, her eyes filled with concern and anger. "Stop, Bucky. Leave," she said firmly, her voice cutting through the air.

But you couldn’t let Bucky go. Not now, not when you finally had the chance to mend things between you. You reached out and held Nat’s hand, squeezing it gently. Your eyes telling her what your voice couldn’t. "I need him here, Nat. Please understand."

Nat’s expression softened as she looked at you with an air of disappointment. "So after all the pain he put you through, all the crap, you're just gonna forgive him? Because he comes in here and bats those blue eyes at you and you just pretend these last 6 months of agony didn't happen?"

Your face flushed at her words, not wanting to look over at Bucky to see his reaction. But you knew he hadn’t let go of your hand, he wasn’t shying away from Nat’s allegations. You took a deep breath, trying to find a way to explain your feelings. But with the tracheostomy in place, all you could do was look at Nat with pleading eyes. You wanted her to understand that forgiveness wasn’t about forgetting the pain, but about moving forward and healing.

"You’re right, Nat. I know I have a lot of work to do to prove I deserve Cricket’s forgiveness." Bucky was talking to Nat, but looking directly at you. "But I need you to know that you can trust me."

Nat sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Fine," she said, her voice tinged with resignation. "But if he hurts you again, I won’t be so forgiving."

You nodded, grateful for her acceptance. And as Nat left the room, you turned back to Bucky, who was still holding your hand. His eyes were filled with a mixture of regret and hope, as if he couldn’t quite believe that you were giving him another chance.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I never meant to hurt you. I was just..."

You squeezed his hand, letting him know that you understood. And as you sat there in silence, the weight of the past six months slowly lifted off your shoulders.

*

Over the next few days, Bucky was at your side. Natasha and May took it in turns to glare at him so that he would leave to shower and get a few hours of sleep. He would sit with you all night and even though you urged him to go home and take care of himself, you were grateful for and comforted by this presence. 

The days were filled with hard work and rehabilitation. You were determined to be weaned off your tracheostomy in record time, especially since you missed the taste of real food. And the catheter they'd put in your bladder was far from dignified.

On your fourth day, they put in a speaking valve and it felt good to be able to communicate again, even if it was just with short raspy sentences. Bucky was dizzy with delight when you greeted him by name. He missed hearing your voice, he would take anything you had to give him. Bucky wasn't the biggest talker at the best of times, he needed encouragement, coaxing into a conversation. It made you wonder how well he and Priya communicated. In the first few days of your recovery, he hadn't spoken much, preferring to sit beside you while you watched your favorite shows on the huge television that Tony had wheeled into your room before dragging a rueful Steve off to Thailand to neutralize a strange artifact giving off cosmic radiation.

Your powers helped you excel with speaking using the valve and you were allowed to use it for longer periods. But sometimes success didn't always work in your favor. 

The following evening, after a grueling session of physical therapy, you fell asleep, only to jolt awake in the middle of the night in a state of panic, heart racing and your chest tight. You couldn't breathe. Panic gripped you as you struggled to catch your breath.

You sat up, gasping for air, feeling like you were suffocating. The room felt like it was closing in on you, the darkness pressing down on you. You tried to calm yourself down, to slow your breathing, but the panic only grew stronger.

Just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, pushing you backwards. Bucky grabbed the suction tube and skillfully removed the mucus blocking your air passage, a task he had observed the nurses do countless times.

As your oxygen levels rose, Bucky shoved the tube back on the bedside unit and gripped your shoulders. "It's okay, it's clear now, you're okay," he reassured you.

But the panic still gripped you tightly, refusing to let go. Bucky looked at you with concern in his eyes as you took shuddering breaths between sobs. Without a word, he climbed onto the bed and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to his chest.

"I got you, Cricket. I promise I'm never letting you go again. I got you," he whispered softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

As you lay there, enveloped in Bucky's comforting embrace, the panic slowly began to subside. Your breathing steadied, your heart rate slowed, and the darkness that had threatened to consume you began to fade away. Bucky's presence was a lifeline, a reminder that you were not alone in your struggle.

With his arms around you, you felt safe and protected, allowing yourself to relax and drift back to sleep, knowing that Bucky would be there to watch over you throughout the night. And as you finally succumbed to sleep, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, grateful for the unwavering support of your friend in your time of need.

*

The next morning, you woke up with your face plastered against Bucky's chest, a ridiculous amount of saliva coating your mouth and to your horror, Bucky's t-shirt. You couldn't help but feel mortified at the situation. Waking up with your face pressed against Bucky's chest, drooling all over his t-shirt was not how you had envisioned your morning going. But despite the embarrassment, you couldn't deny the warmth and comfort you felt being so close to him.

Bucky chuckled, running a hand through his messy hair. "No worries, Cricket. It happens to the best of us."

As you sat up and tried to compose yourself, Bucky reached over to grab a tissue and handed it to you. "Here, clean yourself up."

You took the tissue gratefully, wiping away the excess saliva from your mouth and the stain on Bucky's shirt. "S’rry, B’cky. Didn't mean to drool all o’er you."

Bucky just shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's no big deal, really. Just a shirt. Besides, it's not like I haven't drooled on myself before."

You couldn't help but laugh at his comment, feeling a bit more at ease. Bucky always had a way of making you feel comfortable, even in the most embarrassing of situations. You missed the camaraderie that you’d had before Priya had entered your lives.

“How's the breathing?”

“S’rry fo’ ‘reakin’ ou’.”

Bucky just waved off your apology, his eyes filled with understanding. "Don't worry about it, Cricket. We all have our moments. I’ve lost count of the number I’ve had, this is the least I could do. I'm just glad you're feeling better now."

You couldn't help but smile at his kindness. Despite the awkward start to the morning, you were grateful that Bucky was still by your side. When it was just the two of you together, it was so easy to get lost in a world where he was yours.

“Di’ you sleep?” you asked him.

“A little… enough.” He added as your face fell. “Don’t worry about me.”

You were taken aback as the door to your room flew open, revealing Steve and Tony standing in the doorway with surprised expressions on their faces. You quickly sat up, feeling a rush of embarrassment at being caught in such an intimate position with Bucky.

Tony raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? Looks like we interrupted something.”

Bucky clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He never answered back to Tony. Bucky had confessed to you that he remembered every detail of how he had murdered the Starks. He had never mentioned any specifics to you but you knew his subconscious would never let him forget. He told you that his dreams were like vivid flashbacks, they played behind his eyelids too often.

“T’ny!” You couldn't help but roll your eyes at Tony's teasing. “Miss’on ‘kay?”

“Total success, Cricket. Thailand was pretty scenic, from what we saw on the flyby. I’ll be sure to take you one day, I think it’s right up your alley.”

You smiled gratefully. Tony had a way of showing his affection by showering you with gifts.

“Hey, why is this thing not on?” He tapped at the wide screen at the end of your bed. “I brought this to help aid your recovery.”

“An’ it’s workin’ marv’ls.”

“That’s fantastic! Well, we'll leave you two lovebirds to it then. Just try to keep the drooling to a minimum, okay?” 

Steve and Tony exchanged a knowing look while both you and Bucky groaned in unison.

“Err, actually, I’m going to stay for a moment,” Steve said, hesitantly before turning to you. “If that’s alright with you?”

“Co’rse.” Now that he was closer, Steve looked tired and worried.

You watched as Bucky got up and left the room to use the bathroom, leaving you alone with Steve. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his expression serious.

“I was worried about you, Cricket,” Steve began, his voice filled with concern. “You and Bucky are like family to me. I can’t bear the thought of losing either of you.”

You felt a pang of guilt at causing Steve to worry. “S’rry, St’ve. Didn’t mean to put you thr’ugh that. Promis’ I’ll be more ‘areful in the future.”

Steve reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know you didn’t mean to, Cricket. But please, promise me that you won’t do anything reckless like getting stabbed again.”

You nodded, feeling grateful for Steve’s concern and support. “Pr’mise.” You held up three fingers in a scout’s salute.

Steve smiled, his blue eyes filled with warmth. “Good. And remember, I’m always here for you. You can talk to me about anything, okay?” He looked at the door, the one that Bucky had just used to vacate the room.

You nodded, feeling a sense of comfort and reassurance wash over you. Steve had always been there for you and Bucky, like a protective older brother. You were grateful to have him in your life.

Tag list: @samodivaa @scoonsalicious @noonespecial90 @browneyedgrli @vicmc624 @cjand10 @capswife @julvrs @ordelixx @sashaisready @sebastians-love @belleofthebooks @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @rabbitrabbit12321 @love-isnt-greed @hhiggs @winters1917 @blackhawkfanatic @calwitch @learisa @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lillianacristina @mostlymarvelgirl @wintercrow @buckitostan @crist1216 @bisexualnikkisixx @robynjasp @brairslair

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[captn-trex]

read between the lines

Fox x F!Reader

word count: 8.1k

description: the library is your favourite place to escape to when the galaxy gets too loud, and it just so happens to be the same for a certain marshal commander

warnings: sfw, fox being anxious & being frustrated about it, nervous (kinda non-sensical) ramblings from fox's pov incl. self-deprecating comments (basically projecting my anxiety onto him oops), but it ends cute and nerdy :)

a/n: really wanted to write a fox fic after seeing this post by @welcometo79s about fox being an introvert - I thought the idea was super interesting so here we have an anxious lil fox :) I could yap so much more but my notes are always too long so I'm gonna shut up

Going to the library was one of your favourite pastimes. Especially on a planet like Coruscant, which never seemed to slow down.

You had discovered this little corner of the planet years ago, and you spent more time here than you cared to admit. There were a number of libraries of Coruscant, but none of them as quiet and authentic as this one. You had truly struck gold in finding it, entirely by accident.

The feel of a real book, the feel of flimsi between your fingers, was an experience you relished in this technological day and age. You didn't have anything against technology, it was an integral part of your life and job after all, but holding something so precious and unique in your hands was something else entirely.

This particular library was not very large, though boasted an impressive catalogue of titles nonetheless. You loved curling up by the heater on cold evenings, in one specific cosy red armchair. It was a little more hidden, a reading nook of sorts, and it made the experience feel all the more special. Just you and a book, the outside world, the war, slipping from your mind easily.

In the last few weeks, there was a new regular that had started coming. At first, you were alarmed, his bright red armour alerting you to the fact that he belonged to the Coruscant Guard, but when he picked up a book and settled himself in a window seat, you had relaxed.

You had to admit, you found yourself watching him quite a lot. After a number of times seeing him, you had figured out exactly who he was. It was entirely surprising to you that the Commander of the Coruscant Guard frequented such a place, though he always walked in as if it was exactly where he should be, so you came to respect that.

Going to the library had become part of your daily routine, spending your evenings there as it was much quieter than spending them in your apartment. The people you lived with were particularly loud, not to mention the noise of the city outside the window. However, in the weeks that Commander Fox had begun to do the same thing, you found your reason for going shifting.

You couldn't help but be intrigued by him. You were always too far away to see what he was reading, and he never took his helmet off. You wondered how he could read through it, but you presumed that if it had been made for battle then a book probably wouldn't be a problem.

One day, as he was leaving, you noticed him acting a little odd. He peered around to see if anyone was looking his way, not noticing you at all, and then he pocketed a stylus that the person who sat there before him had left. You smirked, watching him leave the library with a little extra hurriedness to his steps. After that, you decided that you needed to know what it was he was reading all this time, your intrigue finally becoming strong enough.

When you entered the library the next day, he was already sat in his regular seat, one leg stretched out on the seat and the other foot planted on the ground. He held the book in one hand, the other absentmindedly playing with the stylus that he had stolen the previous day. You found the book you had been reading, and made your way towards his position, your stomach turning just a little.

The window bay that he sat in was reasonably large, with a wooden frame and covered with pillows. You made your way to the opposite side from him and took your seat. His head raised from his book quickly in surprise, and you offered him a smile, before opening up your book and finding where you had left it.

Unbeknownst to you, and contrary to your own thoughts, Fox had noticed you. It was hard not to; you were here everyday, and he found you to be distracting, to say the least. He had often watched you sneaking glances at him, the secrecy afforded by his helmet allowing his cheeks to heat up without detection. It was the reason he rarely took his helmet off really, he didn't want anybody to he able to read him, he had a hard enough time conveying his thoughts through words without people watching him try to do it.

Fox had always been somewhat of an introvert, a stark contrast to his brothers. He didn't know how he had ended up not sharing in his brothers’ natural outgoing demeanour, but it was something that affected him constantly. He managed to have a commanding presence and confidence in his work through his rigorous training on Kamino, and he now had enough experience in his role that it felt safe, natural. Though at the end of a long day, when his brothers went out to 79s, he much preferred to be by himself. He craved so deeply to have his own space, and finding this library recently had afforded him some semblance of that.

Fox drew his knee up towards his chest so that he wasn't invading any of your personal space, despite the feeling that that was exactly what you had just done to him. He watched you from behind his visor, intrigued and confused. You didn't look up from your book once, leafing through the pages gradually as you took in the information on them. You were reading something non-fiction, something to do with theories about wild space and beyond. Somehow that surprised Fox - he didn't know what he expected you to be reading but it wasn't that. After his heart had stopped racing at the thought of having to talk to someone, he let his eyes drift back to his own book.

For the entirety of the evening, you didn't talk to Fox, nor did you so much as look at him. He found it to be equally relieving and maddening. He was glad that you both seemed to just be enjoying each other's presence without the need for conversation, but he couldn't understand why you had joined him.

He knew his armour made him stand out among the civilians, and usually people seemed to be scared of him because of it, as if he would arrest them for looking at him the wrong way. It was a blessing and a curse. People left him alone, but he stood out nonetheless. He got what he wanted, but was constantly being perceived in ways he didn't know as he did.

He wondered what your angle was.

When he had seen you watching him, he had initially thought it was for the same reason: that you were scared of him. However, he soon realised that you looked at him with no contempt, no ill-will, and now that you had come and sat yourself within his presence, he was even more interested to know what was going on in your head.

After a number of hours - he had lost count how many - he noticed you rising from your seat. You placed down the cushion that you had set in your lap as you read, and cast a glance over to him. With how he had rested his book in his lap and looked up, it was obvious he was looking at you, and you gave him another sweet smile.

He was overtaken by the need to speak with you. Your kind gestures seemed to be an obvious response to the way he was acting, and that you were respecting the fact that he didn't want to talk. Unfortunately, before he could work up the courage, you had gone back over to the bookshelf and put the book back in its place, leaving shortly thereafter.

Fox sighed audibly, and it came out as a small hiss through the filter of his helmet. Despite liking his own space, he had enjoyed having someone else with him, just sitting in silence while you both focused on your own things. He didn't have that kind of interaction with any of his brothers, they were often far too excitable for him.

He loved his brothers dearly, they meant a lot to him, but being around them all of the time tired him out, and sometimes it was nice to get away from them. He found himself thinking that perhaps he didn't always have to do it by himself. Perhaps it was possible to spend time with someone who didn't drain his energy. Someone like you.

When Fox arrived at the library the next day, you were already there, sat in your regular seat. He watched you for a moment, the corners of your lips lifting as you read something from your book. You looked so kind, so approachable. He didn’t feel as though you were trying to draw him in in any particular way, at least not in a way that would ordinarily have him feeling flustered. It didn't seem that you sought anything that would draw him out of his comfort zone at all. With that in mind, he just truly felt like indulging in your simple company once more, and so he did.

He approached the corner of the library where you were slightly hidden away, and he settled himself in the armchair opposite you. You looked up to watch him do so, and smiled warmly when his visor turned towards you. The crinkles at the edges of your eyes gave away how pleased you were that he had decided to join you, and he relaxed a little, his body moulding into the chair as he opened up his book.

As you had the previous day, you both engrossed yourselves in your books. The worries of today and tomorrow washed away and you just soaked up the words on the page. You were curled up in your chair, a cushion held to your stomach as you often did, whereas Fox had his legs outstretched, one over the other, his hand tucked under his arm as the other held his book. You were both just comfortable.

As the day wound to a close, you flicked your eyes to the clock, and thought that you best be getting home.

Fox watched you raise from your seat, placing the cushion back onto it neatly. His stomach lurched a little, once again feeling the urge to speak to you. He felt exceedingly stupid as he couldn't bring himself to do it, and he was floundering for something, anything to say.

“Wait!” He heard himself say, a little louder than he would've liked, especially for in a library. You turned back to him, your eyes finding his visor as you waited for him to continue.

Fox's brain drew a blank. He couldn't think let alone speak right now. However, you just gave him a patient smile, not expecting anything. It calmed his mind enough to ask a simple question.

“What's your name?”

Your smile grew a little before you replied, you voice even more kindly than he could have imagined - soft, yet assured. He couldn't help but let the corner of his mouth raise a little under his helmet. After a moment, he realised that you weren't asking his name, and his smile dropped, slightly panicking for something to say again. He would've given anything to be as outgoing as his brothers at this very moment, or any subsequent one.

“Well” You cleared your throat as he just looked up at you, and a small smirk wound its way onto your face. “I suppose I'll see you around, Commander Fox” You gave him a little mock salute as you turned away.

Fox could feel his cheeks burning, his mind now in overdrive. You knew who he was the whole time? Somehow he felt especially embarrassed more than anything, and slumped back into his chair with a huff. What was he supposed to say to you now? How much did you know about him? If you knew who he was, why did you sit with him? And why didn't you say anything?

Endless questions swirled around in his head, stopping him from enjoying his book for the rest of the evening. Even as he tried to sleep in his bunk, all he could do was stare up at the ceiling, his cheeks still burning as he thought of how stupid he must've sounded asking your name and sitting by you, when you knew exactly who he was.

He desperately wanted to know what you thought of him. Surely if you knew his name then you'd know other things about him? But what did you know? Had you heard that he was somewhat removed or lonely and thought he could use a friend? Because that would be positively mortifying.

Fox ran a hand over his face. He shouldn't be thinking like this. For all that he avoided them, he cared far too much what people thought of him. He wished he could stop doing that.

Fox had thought about not going to the library the next day, but after a long talk with himself in the mirror, he decided that it didn't matter what you thought of him, and he wasn't going to let it ruin what he had come to know as his little corner of the galaxy.

He was already there when you arrived, as you had come a bit later than usual. That had only struck Fox with an unpleasant feeling in his gut, but he wasn't going to let on.

You slowly approached his window seat with your book tucked in your hands. His head didn’t raise until you spoke.

“Is it alright if I sit with you?”

Fox's head snapped up at the sound of your voice, his eyes a little wide behind his visor. He elected not to speak, and instead nodded his head and gestured vaguely to the other side of the window.

Unlike the last couple of days, Fox was positively unfocused on his book. It was maddening, all he wanted to do was relax, especially after his sleepless night and the stack of flimsiwork that had awaited him on his desk this morning. He couldn't be so lucky, you had to go and distract him. Of course it wasn't your fault, and Fox knew that, he was just annoyed that he couldn't shut his mind off for once second. Ever.

After around 45 minutes had passed, and Fox had finally settled into reading his book, he noticed you watching him, and he internally groaned. He had just started relaxing.

He raised his head to let you know he saw you looking at him, and you smiled warmly before speaking.

“Can I ask you a question?”

That made him nervous, the slight anticipation making his head nod quickly to release it.

“Is your helmet comfortable?” You asked, resting your book in your lap.

Whatever he thought you were going to ask, it wasn't that.

“Uh… yeah, it's fine” He replied awkwardly.

“Cool” You nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and opened your book back up.

Fox just stared at you. Was there not any other reason for you asking that? Did you actually just want to know if his helmet was comfortable or not? Why couldn't he stop questioning your motivation for doing anything?

“How do you know my name?” He asked, getting straight to the point.

Your expression was sheepish when you looked back up at him again, and you fumbled slightly with your book, losing your page. You let out a small huff at that, “I don't know, I think everyone kind of knows who you are”

That was probably the worst reason you could have given. Fox cringed, his body folding in on itself fractionally even though he tried to stay rigid and strong.

He looked back down to his book and tried to read, but now it just felt like the awkward silence was swallowing him whole. He couldn't focus on the page, his mind swirling with various words that he tried to string together to reply to what you had said.

After a few minutes of that, Fox was fed up. He practically slammed his book closed and strutted over to the desk to return it, not looking back as he left.

The next night, you were still put out by the Commanders actions. You went to the library anyway, convinced that he probably wouldn't be going, that you had well and truly scared him off. You didn't know exactly why, or rather how, you had done it, but you could tell he'd been frustrated by it. You hadn't hardly said anything to him, but you supposed that you had managed to offend him in those few short words.

Thankfully, it soon slipped from your mind as you curled your legs into your chest and dove into the new book you had picked up today.

If Fox had been embarrassed by you knowing who he was, he was positively beside himself with mortification now. He had blocked it out the entire day, holing up in his ‘office’ and burying himself in his flimsiwork so he couldn't possibly let another thought into his head.

As it got to the end of the day, Fox couldn't stop watching the clock. Time was creeping along at a painfully slow pace, and that was as he was already staying late. It felt like torture, working late just to stop himself thinking. His brain was at maximum capacity, and all he wanted to do was rest.

“Commander” A voice called out, and Fox's head lifted slowly to see Thorn standing in front of his desk, “Maker, you look rough”

Fox scowled, “I thought I told you to knock”

“I vaguely remember you saying that…” Thorn said, a mocking grin growing with each word. “You do know this isn’t a door right?” He said, knocking on the wall that only vaguely separated Fox’s desk from the others.

Fox just rolled his eyes, “What do you want?”

“We're clocking out now, you fancy coming to 79s?” Thorn asked hopefully.

“You already know the answer” Fox looked down at his flimsiwork again.

Thorn huffed, “Come on vod, just this once?”

“I've got work to do” Fox replied.

“That's what you always say”

Fox gave Thorn a tired look, “Another time”

“You always say that as well” Thorn remarked.

Fox sighed aggressively, “Look, I'm really not in the mood for this tonight”

“Alright, alright” Thorn put his hands up in surrender, “I'll get you next time”

“I doubt it” Fox mumbled under his breath as his brother left.

He picked up his stylus. It was the one he had stolen from the library, or more accurately, whoever had left it at the library. He let a sigh escape him. It was filled with mixed emotions, positive memories of the library tinged by his own stupidity.

He twirled the stylus in his hand, manoeuvring it through his fingers. Maybe it wouldn't be the end of the world to go to the library, to seek the respite he so desperately desired. If you were there, he could just ignore you, it couldn't be that hard.

Once that thought had entered his mind and he'd let it grow for just a second, he rose to his feet, grabbing his helmet from the edge of his desk. When he stepped out of his corner, the chattering voices he could hear stopped, and the two remaining clones in the office looked towards him.

“Ah, Commander, you decided to join us after all” Thorn grinned.

“Uh, no. I’m going out” Fox replied, continuing to walk towards the door.

“Where to?” Stone asked, pushing himself from his desk.

“Just- out” Fox replied, much more rigidly than he would've liked. It sounded extremely suspicious coming out.

“Out? Like on a date?” Thorn asked.

“No!” Fox barked back, almost stopping in his place.

“Oh my god, you are” Stone’s expression turned to a broad grin as he dashed towards the door, stopping his brother from leaving.

“I'm not” Fox insisted, a sharp glare directed at Stone.

“You're blushing” He pointed out, which only intensified Fox’s glare. Stone pushed his brother's shoulder lovingly, “Aw vod, I'm so happy for you”

Fox rolled his eyes, pushing past his brother and grumbling to himself as he could hear the two of them laughing at his expense. He loved his brothers, but they really got on his last nerve sometimes.

When he got to the library, it was much later than he usually arrived, which the librarian commented on as he checked out his book. He just gave her a polite nod, not really pleased at his patterns being recognised.

He had planned to just ignore you, but when he saw you sitting in your usual seat, curled up and peaceful, reading your book as if you were the only two things in the galaxy, he couldn't help but feel drawn to you once more. He walked over to you in a few long strides, and cleared his throat. Your head shot up, eyes a little wide.

“Commander” You said, a little unsurely as it wasn't entirely clear if he wasn't upset with you or not. You couldn't tell from under the helmet.

“Please don't call me that” He replied in a somewhat affronted tone, though he must have seen how taken aback you were because he instantly backtracked, “I mean- No, just- Fox is fine, please”

“Okay then” You smiled, “Hi Fox”

Fox returned the smile, even though you couldn’t see it, “May I join you?”

You nodded, gesturing to the armchair opposite you. Fox sat down, leaning forward and clearly not finished speaking.

“I am… sorry, for leaving abruptly yesterday”

You couldn't stop your face from twitching with amusement, “You don't have to be sorry”

“Right… yeah” His hand snaked to the back of his neck on instinct as he spoke awkwardly.

“I do hope I didn't offend you though” You added, drawing your eyebrows together.

“Offend me?” Fox seemed genuinely confused.

“About… knowing who you are” You jogged his memory.

“Oh, no” Fox shook his head lightly. It had sent him spiralling, but you didn't need to know that.

“Good” You smiled sweetly and flicked your eyes back down to your book.

Fox watched you for a moment longer then opened his book, finding his place and continuing on.

What he liked the most about you, not that he knew much else, was that you seemed content just being in each other's space, and not needing to talk to fill the time. Talking wasn't his strong suit, it stressed him out at the best of times, even when he pretended it didn't. Particularly then, in fact. Somehow, without even communicating with each other verbally, this was the most meaningful connection he had shared with someone new in a long time. He didn't know that you thought that way too, but somehow he felt that you did.

Not too long later, the librarian came to tell you both that the library would be closing soon. Fox nodded and stood from his seat, but paused in going to hand his book back in when he realised you weren't moving. You hadn't even looked up from your book.

“Aren't you coming?” He questioned, his voice clearly showing his confusion.

You looked up to him, your lips curling into a smile, “I'm not quite done here yet”

Fox frowned, then sat back down opposite you, his knees spread and elbows leant against them, a stance he often took when questioning someone.

“You'll be chucked out by the librarian” He stated.

You shook your head gently, “I can be sneaky”

“Then you'll be locked in” He tried to find reason in whatever idea you had up your sleeve.

“Eh” You shrugged, “I can pick the lock”

Fox tilted his head. Even though you couldn't see the confusion on his face, you still found the action a little cute.

“You realise I could have you arrested for that”

Fox could see your eyes flash with a small amount of alarm as you remembered exactly who was sitting in front of you, but it was gone as soon as it came, and instead you narrowed them a little.

“Well, that would be a little pointless” You said as if it were obvious.

Fox’s eyebrows raised instinctively, “And why is that?”

“Because you'd have to arrest yourself too” You stated, your eyes sparkling with mischief and a grin overtaking your face.

“Wha-”

Before he could even finish the word, you had jumped up and grabbed his arm, dragging him towards the rows of bookshelves and pulling him in between two of them.

He wanted to protest, but the words were stuck in his throat. He was once again thankful for the shield that was his helmet, because he knew that his cheeks must have been bright red with the way you were looking up at him. Your face bore the widest grin, your eyes crinkled at your own mischief, and he was hopeless to do anything about it now.

Fox’s head was telling him to leave, that breaking the law, something that he dedicated his life to upholding, was not a good idea. Though between your excitement and the secret thrill it was giving him, his heart was aching to stay. So he did.

He watched you as you glanced around and listened out for the librarian. Somehow the only thing in his mind was that if he rocked forwards onto the balls of his feet that he'd probably be touching you, or at least feel the heat of your body. The thought was disturbed when the lights cut out and the librarian could be heard walking nearby. You grabbed his arm again, tugging him down the shelves to hide against the other end.

You were grinning, resting your temple against the end of the shelves and looking up at him.

“Having fun?”

Fox just hummed in reply as he copied your posture, not giving much away. You rolled your eyes, but your smile remained, and you kept listening out for the librarian. Soon enough, the clunk of the outdated technology of lock and key slotting together rang out in the darkness of the library, and you stood up straight, walking back over to your regular spot.

By the time Fox caught up with you, you had turned on a nearby lamp and were already sat back in the chair with your book open. He just sat opposite you, watching you through his visor.

The library was usually quiet, but now it was dead silent, and Fox couldn't help but relish in that fact. Even the sounds of the city couldn't be heard in here. It was an entirely peaceful moment, something he rarely got the opportunity to indulge in.

Fox peered around the library, making sure nobody else was lingering after closing, and then hooked his thumbs under the base of his helmet, pulling it off with a quiet hiss. The noise made your head raise, seeming loud in the quiet environment.

It was hard not to stare. You knew more or less what he looked like, he was a clone after all, but nothing could have prepared you for actually seeing him. His dark curls, streaked by silver, his eyes a dark brown and his battle worn skin. He was gorgeous, so rugged yet so stately, and so unique in his appearance as compared to the brothers of his that you had met.

He noticed you examining his face and immediately went to put his helmet on.

“No!” You called out, a little more desperately than you hoped for. Fox gave you a weary and puzzled look, and you could have melted right there. It was strange to see the emotion on his face when he had always concealed it from you.

“Sorry” You coughed out, a little flustered, “I didn't mean to stare”

Despite your words, you continued to observe him, inspecting his face. Every mark, every scar, every feature drawing you in.

Fox tilted his head to the side a fraction, a small crease forming in his brow, “You're still staring”

“Right, sorry” You looked down to your book and scanned your eyes across the page, trying to find where you had been when you got distracted by the sheer beauty of the man before you. It certainly wasn't helpful to think of it in those terms when you were trying not to look at him.

Fox let one side of his mouth quirk up at your reaction to him. He hadn't really expected you to care all that much, but your darkened cheeks were telling him that perhaps you did. He spoke your name, and the sound of his voice unfiltered by his helmet sent a shiver running up your spine.

“Hm?” You replied, glancing up.

“How often do you stay after closing?”

“Oh, not that often” You shrugged a shoulder.

“Why tonight?” He pressed.

You hesitated, “Well, you didn't come until late, and… I feel like that was kinda my fault”

Fox couldn't help the way his stomach flipped, even if he didn't know exactly why it had. He placed his book down on the table next to him.

“It's not your fault” He asserted, “I had a lot of work to do”

It wasn't exactly a lie, but he wasn't going to tell you that he had been trying to banish you from his head all day.

“But thank you. It's not often that I get to-” He gestured his hand vaguely around the library, “Experience the quiet like this”

“No problem” You smiled, setting your book down as well. It seemed you both were now more interested in each other's company than that of the books you had chosen.

Fox bit the inside of his cheek, a little nervous under your undivided attention. The feeling in his stomach was akin to his usually anxiety around socialising, but it felt different, not entirely unpleasant.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure” You replied, “I'm an open book”

Fox let out a breathy chuckle, the amusement dancing in your eyes letting him know that your pun wasn't accidental.

“What do you do?”

“Like… for work?” You asked.

“Yeah, I guess” Fox shrugged. He didn’t really mind what you talked about, he just wanted to know more about you.

“Um” You looked away, flexing your hands nervously, “Nothing. I mean- you know, nothing interesting… or important”

Fox hummed, giving you a sceptical look, “Something tells me breaking into libraries in the middle of the night isn’t the only illegal thing you do”

“Okay, first of all - I don’t break in, I only break out-”

“Not much better really” Fox shrugged, trying to keep the smirk from his lips unsuccessfully.

”Sure, maybe not” You smirked, “But it’s hardly malicious. It’s nothing like, say… Stealing someone’s private property, such as a stylus or something like that…”

A blush dusted Fox’s cheeks immediately, now knowing you had indeed caught him doing exactly that. He cleared his throat, looking away and trying to find a way to explain himself.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone” You teased, resting your hand on his knee for a second to draw his attention back to you, “Besides, who would I tell? We’ve already established that you’re not going to arrest yourself”

Fox dragged his gaze back to you, the gentle touch only making his cheeks burn hotter. He gave you a weary sort of look, but the edge of his lips curled upwards nonetheless.

“Why did you steal it?” You then asked, devoid of any of the teasing tone you had previously employed.

“Uh” Fox ran a hand through his hair, “Well… I don’t really have anything that’s… Mine”

You gave him a puzzled look, “How do you mean?”

Fox cleared his throat, “I mean… I don’t really have possessions, I share all of my time and my space with my brothers. I don’t have a place that is mine, to put anything that might be mine”

He paused for a moment, conscious that he may be oversharing, but your even gaze, the way you were sitting forward and listening attentively told him that perhaps you didn’t mind. That you were interested in what he was saying.

“I have an office, sort of, but not really. It’s just a tiny area in the corner of the Guard’s office, so it’s a little closed off, and it barely even fits my desk, but- anyway. I just take what I can get I suppose” He wrapped up his rambling.

“I can understand that”

“You can?” He asked.

You nodded, “Yeah, I’ve… never had a space to myself either really”

“You don’t have an apartment or something?” He tilted his head to the side.

“Not to myself. I live with three other people, and they’re very… loud. That’s why I come here”

“Yeah, same here I suppose” Fox smiled, then his face fell a little, “Hold on- We didn’t get to the bottom of what you do for work”

You chuckled a little nervously, “I’m a mechanic”

Fox gave you a dubious look, “That doesn’t sound illegal”

“It’s not” You sighed, “It’s just… my boss is a little dodgy”

Fox took a moment to shift in his seat, trying to appear casual, “What kind of dodgy? Who… is it?”

You just smirked at him, “You’re not getting it out of me that easily I’m afraid, Commander”

Fox wanted to chuckle, but he was also suddenly struck by the fact that he had no reason to believe you had any moral integrity or that you actually were any sort of good person.

“You don’t think they should be brought to justice?” He spoke with trepidation.

You smiled a little, “Yeah, I guess I do, but then I would be out of a job”

“You could get another one” Fox reasoned.

“It’s not that simple” You stated, “I don’t live with three people for the fun of it after all”

Fox was confused, you could see that much woven into the frown he gave you.

“I can’t afford anything else” You completed the thought, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Oh, right” Fox replied.

Fox didn’t really know what to say. He hadn’t faced that kind of issue before in his own life, so he couldn’t say he fully understood. He wasn't shy of people turning to crime because of money, their were often few other reasons, though it certainly gave a new perspective to the way he looked at his role of what had turned into a short jump from policeman.

“Anyway” You said more cheerily, “It isn't such a bad job, I do get to spend my evenings here”

Fox smiled at that, “How long have you been coming here?”

“A few years” You replied.

It wasn't long before you were talking animatedly, sharing little details of your life with Fox. He could feel himself coming out of his shell the more you talked, enamoured by the way you spoke and the things you had to say. He found himself agreeing with many of the observations you made, even if he didn't say so. It was also hard to ignore how drawn to you he now felt, in a way he hadn't experienced with many others, possibly anyone. He told you details about himself too, a little bit about his brothers, about a book that he had heard of but couldn’t find, about what he does in the Coruscant Guard.

You were explaining a passage of your favourite book, and the way the light was hitting you face was making it hard for Fox to concentrate on your words fully.

“Do you think that was the right thing for them to do?” He asked, a crease in his brow to show his engagement.

“Well, no. Probably not, but that's what the book is questioning” You explained, then noted Fox's slightly dazed expression, “Maybe they should take a page out of your book and just start stealing” You raised your eyebrows a little, and Fox laughed defeatedly, both as his own habits and your terrible library humour.

“I can't believe you saw me do that and still came and sat with me” He joked, the outright sarcasm feeling unfamiliar on his tongue.

“Oh no, that was what made me do it” You admitted a little theatrically.

“Really?” He cocked his head to the side, giving you a genuine disbelieving look.

“Yeah, it interested me. I wanted to know what the Commander of the Coruscant Guard was doing stealing from a library” You chuckled, “It was just… not what I expected, I guess”

“What did you expect?” He asked with a teasing edge, “The armour does tend to give a certain impression”

“Oh no, I would never judge a book by its cover” You put your hand to your chest in mock offense, a smile still pulling at your lips.

He rolled his eyes, “Do you always have such terrible humour?”

“I think it's funny” You shrugged, covering your mouth as a yawn escaped it. You blinked a few times, and it was only then that you realised it was most likely very late. Checking your watch, you saw that it was past midnight and you sat forward in your chair, “I should be getting home really”

Fox was tired as well, but he wasn't ready to say goodbye just yet. Though, he didn't want to keep you if you were tired, and he wasn't exactly fully awake himself.

“Can I escort you back?” He suggested.

You smiled as you stood up, “Sure, that'd be nice”

Fox followed suit, grabbing his helmet, and letting you lead the way to the door, both of you returning your books to the shelf on the way.

“My very own Coruscant Guard escort, lucky me” You muttered, eyelids heavy with sleep as you looked up at him with a smirk.

Fox’s lips formed a similar expression. He rolled his eyes, though it wasn’t as spiteful as when he had directed it at his brother earlier on in the night. He had completely forgotten about the aspect of having to pick the lock, so was a little surprised when you then produced a small tool from your pocket and knelt down, slotting it into the keyhole.

“Should I be worried that you carry around a lock pick?” He asked, placing his helmet over his head.

You let out a breathy chuckle, “I only use it for this. Besides, it's just a regular tool, not specifically a lock pick”

The door cracked open, and you pulled the tool out, placing it back in your pocket.

It was only a few blocks to your home, and on the way you explained to Fox how you had first found the library on an evening stroll shortly after moving into your current apartment, trying to get away from your loud roommates.

You could already hear them as you approached now, music turned up loud and some form of excited squealing spilling from the windows. You cracked open the door, and winced as the noise became ten times louder. You gave Fox a sheepish expression and he chuckled a little.

“I can see why you go to the library” He noted.

“Yeah” You sighed, rubbing your neck, “They’re not so bad really, just…”

Fox nodded in understanding.

You both just stayed watching each other for a moment, neither one of you wanting to be the first to say goodbye. You stared into Fox's visor, hoping to find his eyes behind it, and by some miracle, he understood that, and took it off in one smooth motion.

You smiled up at him as his eyes emerged from beneath the mask, and his heart instinctively skipped a beat. With you looking up at him like that, and nothing to hide his own emotions, he suddenly felt exposed. His stomach erupted into what felt like his usual anxiety-ridden state, but for once, it was more exhilarating than it was scary.

“I'm glad I made you stay behind tonight” You admitted, little care for how odd the words sounded.

Fox chuckled slightly, “Yeah, me too”

There was another moment of silence, and now Fox read it as awkwardness, so he immediately began backing away.

“I- Um, I'll see you around?” He offered.

Your smile faltered for half a second before you replied, “Yeah, see you around”

Fox watched you get inside safely, and then turned on his heel to head back to his quarters.

The whole way back, and well into the night, Fox couldn't get you out of his head. Though, this time he didn't mind.

The following morning, Fox was once again buried in flimsiwork, already on his third caf and ready to pull his hair out.

“Commander” Fox heard the unmistakable voice from the ‘door’ of his office, and he could have easily groaned in frustration.

“I thought I told you to knock” He grumbled, not bothering to look up from his flimsiwork.

“Perhaps you did” Thorn shrugged, a grin evident in his voice, “But you have a visitor”

Fox's head snapped up at that.

“A visitor?”

“Mhm” Thorn confirmed in a somewhat teasing manner, “No idea how she got past security downstairs but, there's a woman asking to see you”

Fox frowned a little, but stood from his desk, walking over to look around the corner. He saw you leaning on Thorn's desk, looking around the office and a book clutched between your hands. You were in a mechanic’s jumpsuit, folded down to the waist with leather gloves tucked into the belt, and seemingly not caring one bit how your appearance made you stand out in the office.

He called your name, and your head turned towards him, along with everyone else in the office that had already been staring at the you, the person who didn't belong. Your eyes lit up a little as you saw him, and you pushed yourself from the desk, striding over to him and Thorn.

“What are you doing here?” He asked softly, leading you into his corner of the office.

“I wanted to g-”

“Actually, hold on one moment” Fox interrupted you, then walked back out into the office to find Thorn and Stone waiting just outside with their ears turned to the wall. Fox rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, making them jump away.

“Could I maybe have some privacy?” He gave them a pointed look.

Both of them mumbled a ‘yes sir’ as they slunk away, brandishing matching smirks. Fox huffed, before returning to you.

“Sorry about that” He ran a hand through his hair, “Are you alright? What are you doing here?”

“I'm fine” You smiled, “I came to give you this”

You held up the book in your hands, offering it to him. Fox eyed it suspiciously, his gaze flicking between you and the book.

“Did you steal this from the library?”

You laughed gratuitously, “No. I thought we established that was your thing”

“But…” Fox frowned, “Did you buy it then? You really shouldn’t have spent your money-”

“I didn’t buy it, it’s mine” You cut him off, “Well, it was mine, it’s yours now”

You tried to hand it to him but Fox just pushed it back towards you, taking a step forward, “I couldn’t possibly take your property”

“I want you to have it” You grabbed his hand and forced him to take it, looking up into his eyes intently.

Fox’s heart stuttered at your intense gaze, aware of how your hand still rested over his as you awaited his reply. He looked down at the book, and turned it over to read the spine. His eyes quickly found yours again, and a grin had bloomed on your face.

“This is it” He breathed out, “The book I was looking for”

“It is” You nodded, finally taking your hand away from his.

“Wh- How- I didn’t even know what it was called, how did you…?”

“I guess I can read between the lines” You shrugged, your grin widening, and Fox laughed, the edges of his eyes crinkling. “I’ve read it a few times” You admitted, then flipped the book open, revealing annotations in the margins, “I went through and pointed out my favourite parts, wrote a bit about why and kinda analysed it a little”

“You wrote these notes for me?” He questioned, his voice sounding unusually small as his brows pinched together.

“Yeah” You gave him a warm smile, “That way, it’s like… personalised for you”

Fox was at a loss for words. You had really listened to him yesterday, and heard how his lack of personal effects weighed on his mind, and now you were giving him something of yours, and you had made it personal to him. His chest spread with warmth, his shoulders relaxing in a small contented sigh.

He let the book fall to his side, and he leaned forwards onto the balls of his feet, so his chest was almost against yours. He brought his hand up and gently brushed your hair away from your forehead, his hand lingering against your cheekbone. Your eyes shone up at him, and a genuine smile crossed his face.

“I'm glad I met you” Fox murmured, his voice low so that only you could hear.

“I know you are” You grinned.

Fox rolled his eyes, “Let me guess, because you can read me so well”

You chuckled, your head tipping to the side in thought, “I hadn’t thought of that one actually. Looks like you’re picking up my novel sense of humour though”

Fox scoffed a laugh, “You’re terrible”

“Maybe” You shrugged, “But I like to think that maybe you don't mind”

Fox hummed, “Perhaps not”

You grinned up at him for a moment, and then stepped back, “I should be getting back really, I'm not supposed to be here”

“You don't have to tell me that” Fox raised his eyebrows at you, “How did you manage get up here?”

“A fun story for another time” You smirked, disappearing around the corner.

Fox followed after you, watching you leave from where he leant in the doorway, when you stopped in your place and turned back to him. You seemed to be weighing something in your head, and then evidently decided to go through with it, jogging back over to him.

Fox raised an eyebrow as you came to stand in front of him, “What is it?”

“I forgot something”

“Forgot wha-?”

Fox was interrupted by you raising onto your tiptoes and placing a delicate kiss to his cheek, your hand finding his to steady yourself. The feel of your hand gently holding his, let alone your lips on his cheek, was enough to set his skin alight. His cheeks were already burning by the time you pulled away.

You gave him a sweet smile, squeezing his hand lightly and speaking in a whisper, “See you later”

Fox watched you go with wide eyes, his body unable to move from where it was firmly rooted to the ground. Your body finally disappeared out of the office, and he let out a breath he didn’t realise that he’d been holding, his body relaxing.

“So you did have a date” Stone nudged his brother, a grin almost splitting his face. Fox just gave him a withering look.

“What did I say about privacy?”

“Well I figured that since you made it everyone's business-”

“I suggest you get back to work, Stone”

“Yep. Got it”

Fox settled himself back at his desk, his fingers trailing along the spine of the book that was now in his possession. His cheeks were still burning, and they probably would be for the rest of the day. He was looking forward to going to the library that night, but it wasn’t for the books this time.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565

[madkiska]

watching the entirety of jrwi: riptide again. here's some important things from the first few episodes that I feel we forgot (<110 mentions too though)

Jay

Had night terrors similar to those of Kubakinta's curse in episode 5, and they eventually start returning even after Loffinlot's curse is lifted ○ All of them were about her family and/or the navy ○ I simply think people leave her out of the nightmare stuff and she deserves it. Hurt her more, please (he said, lovingly)

was actually very upset at having to use her medal to get a Loffinlot rebellion to shut up ○ This could be because she didn't want them to guess she was a spy, but I choose to believe it's because she felt guilty

"If you're gonna be sailing with someone, you should have a good relationship with them. [nervous chuckle]." She says, while asking him for information about the Black Rose Pirates (ep. 10)

Said "thank god they didn't find me" after a nightmare about the navy attacking. Even when she was supposedly a spy, who one day would have to return to the navy ○ Very unclear if she was scared of her dad, or if it's because she was a secret spy so the navy would've just killed her

Rewatching, she was suspiciously into the plundering and gold and stuff. Like that was real sus. It doesn't fit her current character much

The only one among them who's gambled before

Chip

The entire thing literally starts off with Bizly holding a lit match

Called Gillion "Gill" and Jay "Sureshot" from an early stage

Was SO much more of a bastard. Lied to Gill constantly, didn't care about anything but the money, etc.

Had aggressive hand tremors alongside Jay's night terrors ○ Gill cures it with lay on hands

When he gets drunk married, they talk extensively about how he'd be released when he's dead. Welp.

They did actually break up and it was fine and they were still friends. They parted on good terms

Is really fucking good at chess ○ Beat Earl twice and Jay once. Jay had a point of exhaustion after a nightmare but Earl had no excuse ○ Lost to Gillion though, but only cause of prophetic screwup ○ This kid is smarter than he lets on, y'all

Was the first one to have a backstory dump while Jay is asking him about the Black Rose Pirates, yet still we know jack shit about his life before them other than "orphan"

Gill

Charlie has referred to Gillion with 'they' many times. I can pull receipts.

When describing Gill, Charlie said: "He's more.. elven, if you had to make a comparison. 'Cause I don't wanna be a fish guy". Oh, honey.

Smote a bald person by using his hair as a whip (ep. 4)

Was given anxiety and self-doubt alongside jay's night terrors and chip's tremors ○ "What do you want?" "I want the feeling of satisfaction I've been chasing my whole life." ○ This was episode FIVE.

First mention of the prophecy and how Gillion wasn't their ideal student is ep. 7, after he divine smites + prophetic screwups and deals like 60 damage to some beetles ○ Chip spends the next 30 seconds in gay awe

He refers to the crescent moon Niklaus tattoo as "my zodiac" (probably a bit) ○ It's not a lil basic white girl moon this thing is the entire size of his forearm

Gill had never heard about the Black Sea - it's unclear if the Undersea just don't know, or if that's just how sheltered he was (ep. 10)

Biz: "What would Gillion do. If he just had no goal - was just sitting there." "Gillion always has a goal." "Would his goal ever be to just.. Sit there?" "Absolutely not." ○ Later, Chip expresses that he doesn't know what Gillion likes. What he would want out of winning a bet. Gillion doesn't have an answer

Other

Apple, in a couple of early battles, acted like Gill's familiar (see: ep. 7)

They also pecked at his Niklaus tramp stamp and looked all confused at the idea of eating seeds

The specific crescent of the moon in the Niklaus tattoo is known as a symbol of "corruption" (ep. 9) and its antonym is the sun, for "life", similar to the yin and yang ○ Interesting to consider after what the tree said in 110 <_<

Pretzel has a masters degree in couple's therapy (ep. 10)

The Albatross/Millennium Chipper was described as the colour of rosewood or mahogany

Captain Lizzie's first introduction was a wanted poster, and Chip wanted to turn her in for the prize, then decided to try learn from her instead

Chip/Bizly called Old Man Earl "Erol" for a loooong time ○ Maybe it's an accent thing but I have an uncle called Erol and so this stands out to me

[shecriestotheclickingoftime]

it'll be ok

patrick x reader, 11.2k words

(basically, this fic is what happens when you let a songwriter have an unlimited word count with no narrative skills but a lot of feelings...)

this is a long one, and an intense one, and the plot is kind of convoluted and a mess and a lot of and im ngl reader is very specific and also very mentally ill and struggling the whole time (and is also def a flawed character but pls go easy on her)

an insanely angsty, moody, sad, but hopeful ending Patrick Zweig x reader fic (with a lot lot lot of Art Donaldson mentions though, like he is a main character just not a romantic interest)

set during Stanford era, reader goes to Stanford with Art

TWs: quite a bit of drinking, vomiting at one point from drinking, a lot of mental illness is present here ngl, reader has a really bad relationship with family (but there are not too many specifics), and some moments where reader cannot eat or sleep because of anxiety!

Freshman year of college was hard. You’d been so excited to finally get away from your family, and attend Stanford, but the adjustment was hard. You’d already been there a couple months, and you’d made friends, your closest one being Art Donaldson, a tennis player who just kind of… popped up in your Psychology 101 class, and then just stayed in your life.

The second you walked into the massive lecture hall, you knew you had messed up signing up for an introductory science class. You were an English major, this class wasn’t even required for you, but for some reason, you were here. You scanned the room, trying to not look as nervous as you were, and sat down in an empty seat. The class still didn’t start for a few minutes, and students were still filing in, getting set up for class. As the lecture hall started to get more full, you looked back down at your notes, trying to get everything ready for today. There were still a fair amount of empty seats left, so it took you by surprise when a blonde, athletic-looking boy came and sat down a seat away from you. He smiled at you, and you smiled back, and he introduced himself as Art Donaldson. You nodded and looked away, trying to look disinterested, but for some reason, this kid was hell bent on getting to know you. 

Eventually, you reluctantly decided to give him a chance. As much as the alarm bells in your mind went off, reminding you that it was definitely a bad idea to let yourself get socially involved, something about Art completely disarmed you. Though you tried your hardest to resist getting attached, especially to a guy, Art did everything he could to be a stable figure in your life, and for some reason, he cared about you. He didn’t mind your quiet, sharp exterior that you guarded yourself with; it seemed like he cared about you more because of it- from the first time you two met, it felt like he saw straight through you in a way that no one else ever had, like somehow he already knew you the first time you two met. 

You did everything you could to protect yourself, keeping your struggles and emotions to yourself, like you had been taught to. The hardest part about Stanford was being away from your family. All you had ever wanted was to be away from them, away from their mistreatment, but even after everything they had put you through, you couldn’t help but miss them. You missed your parents, as much as you didn’t want to, and you felt so alone without your family. You didn’t want to be alone, but you knew you couldn’t go home either. You just felt so alone. 

The only thing that felt worse to you than being completely alone, was actually trusting someone and then being left. But despite your resistance, you slowly found yourself starting to trust Art. At first, you tried everything you could to push Art away more. But every time he saw right through you, so you tried to be icier and more distant, so you could get him away before he even got the chance to hurt you. But Art had this careful kind of persistence, somehow not really minding that you pushed him away- He wasn’t trying to sneak closer to you, or get you to let him in, he just wanted to be there, wherever you were comfortable with. And as independent as you tried to be, you had to admit that maybe sometimes it was good to have a friend. 

You revolved your life around school. But nothing you did could help the loneliness that had been tearing you apart from the inside since you were a young teen. You were haunted by the thoughts that no one could understand, or care, and even if they did you knew that no one ever stayed. You were too much for anyone to handle. So you had no choice but to let the loneliness fester, and to just hide the pain from everyone else. But the emotions hurt more than words could describe- so you looked for distractions. So you studied. Obsessively. And your first midterm season was no exception- you put so much pressure on yourself that on the nights before your tests you couldn’t sleep or eat, your anxiety making you feel so restless and sick that you physically couldn’t do anything besides just studying and spiraling. 

–

It was not an exaggeration to say that by Friday night, you felt like death. After finishing your last midterm, you felt beyond empty. Your test adrenaline that had kept you going the past few days had suddenly worn off, and the consequences of your own actions had finally started to catch up to you. And without studying and anxiety to obsess over, you could no longer avoid your chronic loneliness. You were tired, and hungry, and completely alone. 

So when Art Donaldson showed up at your door to invite you to the frat party tonight, and added that his best friend was in town and he wanted us to meet, you knew it was a terrible idea, and you should definitely not drink in this condition.

So naturally, you agreed. 

You’d heard about his best friend Patrick Zweig before, and to be honest, he seemed like a cocky, self-centered idiot. But Art was insistent on introducing you two. You didn’t have much interest in meeting him, (but to be fair, you didn’t have much interest in meeting anyone right now). But, when Art asked you to just give him a chance, you couldn’t say no. 

So, in your zombie state and all, you went to a fucking fraternity party. Completely out of any energy, you poured yourself a strong drink, downed it, and repeated. And repeated. And repeated until losing count. 

And there you were, severely sleep deprived, practically hallucinating, and already wasted. 

And that’s when you met Patrick fucking Zweig for the first time. 

Even drunk, you could tell at first glance that Patrick was a player, just based on his cocky demeanor (and the fact that he was tall and hot. like, what girl wouldn’t want him?) So, you gave him a tight-lipped smile, closing your walls again before you’d let some womanizer guy take advantage of you.

Why had Art wanted you to meet him anyways? This guy seemed completely incompatible with you, and to be honest, you were surprised that he would be such close friends with sweet, gentle Art. So, you introduced yourself quickly, slipped out of the corner you’d been hiding in for the past half hour of this party, downed your way-too-strong drink, and went to go make another one. Now that midterms were over, you couldn’t use your obsessive studying to distract you from your family and loneliness, so getting fucking wasted seemed distracting enough. 

But of course, Art had to notice. And he had to get worried about you, making sure to stay close and keep you in his eyeline. He’d noticed your sadness, and having seen Patrick go through the same complicated family feelings throughout his years at Mark Rebellato’s, he could tell enough of what was going on. 

He was initially drawn to you because he saw Patrick in you. However, instead of shutting people out by acting overly confident and social like Patrick, Art watched you shut yourself away. And even though he had only known you for a couple months, he couldn’t help but care about you, recognizing Patrick’s sadness in you. 

So, when he saw you drinking so much at the party, he knew you were just coping with loneliness. He’d seen Patrick numb himself with drinks enough time in high school, trying to fill the emptiness with liquor and meaningless flings with the girls around him, trying to escape the desperate need to feel cared about and loved. Art knew Patrick like the back of his hand, and he knew that you two were scarily similar. 

As you got drunker, you migrated back to standing near Art, who was practically attached at the hip to Patrick, and you somehow end up rambling about the English paper you just finished. As douchey as Patrick seemed, something about his demeanor seemed gentle towards you, nodding and smiling softly, actually listening to you as you sipped drink after drink and had pointless conversations with Art. You tried to avoid his eye contact and ignore him- you hated to admit it, but he was good at being charming, and even after drinking this much, you still knew that you couldn’t let yourself fall for that. You’d already been dumb letting Art in so much, and you were still scared by how much you trusted him, and so there was no way you were going to let yourself develop some delusional crush on his douchey best friend. So you tried to ignore how tall he was, and how he towered over you, and how he somehow seemed actually interested in your idiotic drunken ramblings. You wouldn’t fall for his tricks.

You were incoherently drunk. And meeting Patrick fucking Zweig at the same time. You weren’t one to lose control, you wanted to tell him and Art, but at this point it didn’t even matter anymore. Because now, here you were, stumbling over your words and pouring all of your thoughts out before you could even stop to think about how embarrassing this was. It couldn’t get any worse than this. 

Actually, you soon learned that it could get worse. Finally, the countless drinks that had been churning around your stomach finally started to catch up with you, and you could tell that you were absolutely going to be sick. You tried to excuse yourself quickly from the boys, stumbling through the crowd outside as quickly as you could, just trying to reach the fresh air outside and hoping that it could refresh your senses. But of course, your escape plan was useless, because Art and Patrick trailed worriedly behind you. And as they followed you out, you prayed to forget all of this tomorrow.

You breathed in the cool, smoky air, wishing to vanish or something, anything to get out of what you knew was bound to happen.“I think I need to go back to my dorm,” you blurted out, turning around to face the boys, and slowly backing away, trying to conceal your wobbly steps, praying that they leave you alone before you got sick. 

But of course, you wouldn’t escape that easily. 

“Hey, let us walk you back,” Patrick said gently, stepping carefully towards you.

“Yeah, it’s really late, and my building is near yours anyways,” Art followed up, offering a comforting smile.

Even in your drunkenness, you could already tell that the two were worried and definitely wouldn’t be letting you walk home alone this late. And as much as you didn’t want them to see you like this, you didn’t trust your ability to get back home right now. So, you gave up on getting them to leave, and you finally nodded, letting them catch up to you as you accepted your fate of possibly having the worst first impression in the history of ever. 

You’d barely walked for 2 minutes when the inevitable feeling hit you… you were gonna throw up. 

So, this was how you introduced yourself to Patrick Zweig. Instead of hiding behind your cold, quiet demeanor that you tried to maintain, you ended up getting embarrassingly drunk, and now fucking throwing up. You scolded yourself in your head, trying to breathe slowly and calm the sickness, but the ground felt like it was spinning and you lost control. You quickly made yourself stumble towards some bushes as you vomited. (sorry guys i know this is gross but it's part of the plot </3)

You tried to conceal your face from Art and Patrick as much as you possibly could, not wanting them to get grossed out by your display (if you could call it that)- although there wasn’t really a way to hide when they’re standing next to you. Nonetheless, you tried, wishing to yourself that they would somehow forget about this, and just leave you alone to die in the bushes out of pure embarrassment. 

You continued to be sick, and everything just hurt at this point. But you suddenly felt a large, calloused hand gently lowering onto your back and rubbing soothing circles along your spine, as another hand gently brushed your hair away from your face, holding it back with a soft hold. Even in your dizzy state, you could tell that it wasn’t Art doing that- Art’s hands were always smooth and, like, way too well kept and soft for a college athlete. So, this must’ve been… Patrick?

God, this is your first impression? Throwing up at a fucking frat party? With him holding back my hair?

You can’t even tell how long you were standing there, throwing up into the damn Stanford bushes. But you do remember Patrick’s gentle touch never leaving your back or your face, as he whispered little “you’re ok”s into the night air as he comforted you. 

After you got back up, the rest of the night passed by in a dizzying blur, your vision making everything around you look like a stop-motion movie. You could feel your drunken memories as they evaded your mind and disappeared from consciousness just as quickly as they happened. You generally remember the idea of walking back to your dorm, trying to accept what just happened. You briefly remember Art and Patrick still walking with you after that, Patrick arm floating around your waist, as he tried to keep you steady. Both Art and Patrick seemed completely unfazed, and even understanding of you, like they had experienced this a million times before. 

The boys walked you all the way back up to right outside of your dorm door, making sure that you got all the way back home safe and intact. You whispered a feeble sorry and good night to them as you slipped back into your room, shutting the door and not even bothering to turn on the lights, letting yourself fall into your dorm’s shitty little twin bed. To be honest, you kind of knocked out after that, escaping from the chaos of the night and letting everything go black 

The next morning, you woke up with the golden San Francisco sun peeking through the half-open blinds on the windows. Despite not remembering falling asleep the night before, you could tell that you had knocked out cold soon after you got back to your room, seeing that you had fallen asleep outside of the covers and still in your party clothes and makeup… and even your shoes were on, damn. 

And, of course, you woke up with a headache. And a stomachache. And so tired, and so thirsty. But the pain in your body felt almost nonexistent compared to the horror that completely washed over you as the memories of the night before flooded back… at least enough of them to remember meeting Patrick, who was way too tall and cute to be embarrassing yourself in front of, as you recalled talking, and talking, and talking, and drinking, and talking, and then… throwing up. And then walking home. 

God, not only did you embarrass yourself in front of Art’s best friend, but you also did that in front of Art… your closest friend at Stanford… and god, he probably was disgusted by you and never wanted to see you again. 

At least, that’s what your mind told you, as you could help but feel nauseous again as the last night played back in your head. That’s what you get for going out right after skipping so many nights of sleep and proper meals because of midterms stress… God, you were dumb. Why did you listen to Art, and why did you agree to meet his best friend?

You still didn’t fully understand why Art had been so insistent on you meeting this Patrick guy, anyways. Did he want to set you up with a douchebag player? Like, what was the point?

Your mind flashed back to the feeling of his hand on your back, gently holding you while you were sick, and his careful, almost nervous hand floating around your waist, stabilizing you as you walked back to the dorm. That was Patrick, not even Art. And something about his featherlight touch and sweet silence made you feel like he understood you, and somehow he knew how you were feeling, even though you had never met before.

You shook the thought off, figuring that it was just your drunken mind making up this feeling between you. He was probably just giving you that smug smile that he flashed at you when you first met, and you perceived it as something gentle and kind in your pathetic loneliness. Ugh, you felt dumb. Your shame of the past night felt like a weight tied to your ankles, keeping you imprisoned in your dorm room. You didn’t want to see Art anytime soon, your mind crowded with thoughts about how he probably thinks you’re so dumb at this point, and he wouldn’t want to care about you anymore after seeing how you acted. (And to be fair, your thoughts were definitely irrational and untrue, but the Sunday (or technically Saturday) scaries can seriously be haunting sometimes).

Oh, and you could definitely never face that Patrick guy again. He doesn’t even go to Stanford, so if you can avoid Art enough, then you’d probably never have to see him again anyways. Hopefully.

But… you could almost still feel his hand on your back, rubbing circles, taking care of you while you were sick, and it just felt so… affectionate. No one had comforted you like that in a long time… Even at home, when you got sick, you’d lock the bathroom door and turn the faucet up to drown out any noise you’d make, so you didn’t “burden” your family with your illness. You took care of yourself. Like you always did, and you always would. But in that moment, even just recalling the hazy, embarrassing memory, you could still feel that safety and care from him… 

You snapped yourself out of this mental spiral- God, you were delusional. And probably also eternally pathetically lonely. 

And you were most definitely not leaving your dorm room for the rest of the weekend. 

–

You spent the rest of the weekend hiding in your dorm, feeling like fucking Dracula not being able to bear the outside light. You tried to push down your shame, blaming the hangover for your anxiety, but you still decided that distancing yourself from Art would be the right thing to do. There is no way you could let yourself be that vulnerable with a guy, especially since you couldn’t stop thinking about Patrick, and how he took care of you. And maybe this was a strange thing to ruminate on so much, but something about it felt so personal. It’s like something is pushing you towards him, that you have no control over, making you want to just be near him again. 

God, you were pining. For Patrick Zweig? You were getting attached to a guy you had met for one damn drunken night. Fuck you, Art, for introducing you to Patrick. You were fucked. And spiraling. 

– 

After a successful weekend of avoiding the world, you finally had to leave your room again. You had classes to go to. You took a long shower, composed youself, and got ready to get back out in the world- there was no way you were gonna let a dumb embarrassing moment in front of fucking Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig interfere with your academics. And besides, you needed to distract yourself, and filling the void of loneliness with countless tasks and books to read sounded perfectly fine. 

You saw that Art had texted you that Sunday morning asking how you were. And you ignored it. And of course, he had to text again on Tuesday, asking if you wanted to grab coffee before Psychology lecture like the two of you usually did. Like everything was normal or something. 

And again, you didn’t respond. And then you skipped your Psych class. You emailed an apology to the professor, and watched over the class recording he sent you, taking notes on it. But there was no way you could face Art Donaldson yet. 

Your avoidance of him almost got irrational- you knew you were blowing things out of proportion, but you were so scared that if you got close to Art again, you’d see Patrick again, and… you couldn’t do that. You made a commitment to yourself- from now on, you definitely fucking hated Patrick Zweig. You didn't need to justify yourself with a reason why. You just needed to hate him.

–

Avoiding Art got more and more difficult as the weeks went by- you skipped another Psych class and practically snuck around campus to go to your classes, paranoid that he would see you around. So you broke, and decided to talk to him. Well, not really talk to him about your 2-week avoidance. He didn’t have to know what was going on with you. So, you came up with the most bullshit excuse you could. You claimed you’d been sick, and coincidentally also your phone had been broken, and that’s why he didn’t see you and you also didn’t text him at all. Pneumonia was really going around this year, right? 

Somehow, you actually showed up to your next Psych class. You sat on the opposite side of the row as Art, burying your face in a novel and pretending to not even notice anyone around you, not even him. You stared at your notebook for the entirety of the lecture, obsessing over your notes that were definitely way too detailed, and made sure not to look over at Art. He couldn’t be mad at you if you simply just didn’t see him, right? And as soon as class ended, you dove back into your novel, not even looking up on your walk out.

You knew you were acting irrationally. But you’d been acting like this for so long that you knew you’d dug yourself into a hole with Art, and there was no use trying to crawl out and explain yourself. So you just let it continue. 

– 

However, your seemingly flawless avoidance plan (predictably) didn’t last very long. It only really ended up lasting until that same weekend, when of course, you had to cross paths with Art Donaldson on your walk back from your favorite, cute little bookstore. You had almost made it back to your dorm without bumping into anyone, and you almost forgot about all of your anxieties- 

Until you looked up and found yourself looking straight into Art Donaldson’s eyes, as he walked the opposite way as you, your eyes widening at the sight of him in his tennis uniform, with his giant racket bag slung over his shoulder. You instantly remembered: he always leaves for his Saturday tennis practices at this time. Fuck, you shoud’ve known not to be here at this time, but you just wanted to go to the bookstore so much that you had to forget literally everything else. 

So, here you were, face to face with Art Donaldson, after ghosting him completely for over two weeks, because… you threw up in front of him at a party. You stopped walking as you approached him, guilt flooding your mind as you realized that you had completely shut him out for… god, almost three weeks today. 

“Hey”, he said as he approached you, his voice soft, almost like he was testing the waters, as you froze in place, unable to look away from his eyes. “Where have you been? I haven’t heard from you since… like the day after midterms. You said you got pneumonia? And your phone broke?”

Your face flushed in embarrassment as you tried not to visibly cringe at how illogical your actions and excuses sounded in his words. 

“God, Art, I fucked up,” you blurted out, unable to filter yourself… and now that you’ve started talking, you knew you couldn’t stop… “I’m so sorry, Art” you said, trying to breathe and compose yourself, the shame for your actions threatening to swallow you whole. “I… Ok, I’ll just be honest. I felt so embarrassed after getting so drunk at that stupid frat party, that I started avoiding you, and then I guess I… Once I started, I couldn’t then go up to you and talk to you, so I let myself dig further and further into this hole and it just felt too bad to climb out and… Well, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I should have texted, and you did nothing wrong, I just was embarrassed-” You stopped yourself from rambling further, forcing yourself to take a breath and let Art respond. You looked down, as if you were trying to gaze straight though your shows and into the ground, as you braced yourself for the worst- you had been told a million times by people around you that you were too much to handle, so you pushed away and broke every relationship, and you knew that you had just done that again. And now you talked way too much, and he

“Listen… I get it” Art almost whispered- and when you looked up, you were met by a sympathetic smile and a worried stare that looked like it could read your mind. “I know how stressed you were because of midterms, and it definitely wasn’t a good idea for me to drag you out to a party right after we took them- and I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you by also introducing you to Patrick too, I know that he can be… a lot. And I’m not mad at you. But next time, just let me know if you’re not doing well. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, just… be in contact.”

You were almost taken aback by his words- you were expecting Art to give you icy stares and bring out words so sharp that they pierced straight through your skin, and you felt like you would have deserved it. But he actually thought about you, and apologized? You stood there for a moment, your mind still processing his response and unable to form words, when he spoke again, this time softer and more nervous:

“Just… try meeting Patrick one more time? You don’t have to anytime soon, but at some point, just get to know him a little. And then you can never talk to him again, but… this is important” he insisted, his tone anxious and almost a little awkward. He offered a comforting smile, still noticing some fear lingering in your eyes after the entire conversation. 

– 

Looking into your expression, Art’s mind went straight back to the one night in 10th grade at the academy, when he and Patrick had stolen a joint from their young guest tennis instructor’s bag, and decided it would be a great idea to try getting high together for the first time. It started fun, as Art and Patrick settled into a half-conscious recalling of embarrassing childhood memories, laughing at themselves and at old classmates, until they had somehow gone into talking about family memories, when Patrick broke down crying while confessing about how much he didn’t want to go home for the holidays. In the 5 years that Art had known Patrick before that, he never heard him talk like that. The two of them talked for a couple hours, eventually joking around and laughing too hard at everything, like high teenage boys would do, but something in Patrick had melted away- like some barrier that he had held up for so long that neither Patrick not Art even fully realized it was there the whole time- and Art suddenly saw a glimpse past Patrick’s self-centered persona, and say what was behind his loud words and bold actions. 

But, by the time Art woke up the next day, Patrick had realized how much he exposed himself the night before, and completely shut down. Of course, with this being Patrick, it didn’t last more than a week before he and Art started joking around again- but from then on, Art could see through Patrick’s actions a lot more. And even though Patrick never explicitly mentioned that night again, and he still probably wouldn’t, even years later, he did open up a little more after that: he started calling his parents when Art was in the room, and starting skipping his own family’s events to stay at Art’s grandma’s house during the winter holiday breaks- and although Patrick never showed this side to anyone else, he let Art see it; he had almost memorized the hurt in Patrick’s eyes after rough phone conversations with his parents, the loneliness that Patrick tried to cover up so desperately, and finally could see straight through Patrick’s words, when he pushed people away because he was afraid. And when he met you, despite the fact that you seemed cold and almost kind of mean, Art instantly recognized the distinct kind of sharpness in your voice, and the fear hiding behind your judgey stares. And since then, he couldn’t help but want to take care of you and protect you, the way that he wanted to protect Patrick- but even more than that, he could tell that Patrick would see straight through you too, and soften him up a little. Neither you nor Patrick seemed like the type to admit that you cared, but something about the two of you seemed intertwined, like there was some sort of invisible string between the two of you that was obvious to Art the moment he met you.

–

Stupidly enough, you had actually agreed with Art that you’d meet Patrick again. But maybe not yet. Art understood more than you thought he would, and didn't bother you about it as you warmed back up to a friendship with him. You stopped feeling like you had to sneak around campus and you went back to sitting with Art during Psychology class. And even though things still hurt, the weight that your family had left on your shoulders seemed to slowly get lighter, and you stopped missing home so much. Between Art, your other English major friends, and some kind professors, you have started to feel a bit more independent. However, even as you let yourself let go of home a little more, you could still feel the loneliness gnawing at you- you liked being independent, and you had gotten used to being independent- you had been independent your whole life, figuring out how to cope with things yourself and not letting yourself need anyone. However, even as you became more content with your college life, you still felt a desperate part of you wanting to feel a little cared for and wanted- maybe just someone to understand, to share the hurt sometimes. But you just blame that on your family issues, praying that the empty feeling would eventually fade away- it was better than trying to find someone to fill it, you couldn't let yourself trust anyone to stay. 

But in the meantime, you focused on yourself. At least you tried to. You tried to take care of yourself, you worked hard in classes, and you didn’t force yourself to call back home. You tried to be more social, actually attending some frat parties with your girl friends (and the nights didn’t end terribly for you anymore), but you still strictly maintained a lot of your coldness and quietness- you liked having friends, and you felt like you fit in, but you made sure to lock away any sign of neediness or pure vulnerability- you didn’t want to let your past drag you down, so you shut it out, and shut everyone away from that part of you. And you did a pretty good job- but of course, Art saw right through it. But he didn’t say anything, he just tried to help from the outside as much as he could without overwhelming you. He started bringing over coffee or dinner when he noticed that you were shutting yourself in your room, and quietly helping you out on the simpler things, like helping you out with laundry or helping you out with your desk clutter on the days that it was hard to get things done without some motivation. 

The next few months of the semester floated by, as you learned to balance your schoolwork with the rest of your life, and you buried your sadness deeper inside until it was almost invisible- although you could feel it tearing into you a little more. You felt it when you were alone, and even worse when you were in a group or a crowd, still feeling lost and like despite even being friends with all of the people around you, none of them actually could touch the pain inside of you- and you felt too guilty to tell them, not wanting to place your burdens onto them as well. 

You ended up staying at Stanford for thanksgiving, telling your family the excuse that it was just too far to fly all the way home for less than a week of vacation, and had dinner alone on the floor of your dorm, drinking through a bottle of wine and watching trashy reality tv. You didn’t tell anyone that you did this- you didn’t lie, but you also dodged any conversation about it. Although you told yourself that you loved the cozy nights alone, you couldn’t fully ignore the loneliness ripping you apart further. As much as you tried to cover it up with a quiet and guarded personality, you still found yourself in bed at night replaying the distant, fuzzy memories of Patrick Zweig on that one drunken night- and even though you tried to hate him during the day, you still found yourself curled up on late, anxious nights, letting yourself remember and cling onto a feeling that you felt for less than a second that night, finally allowing yourself just a brief moment to be weak, no longer holding onto your defenses, and for a silent moment letting your mind be cradled by that untouchable, unexplainable feeling that somehow, for some reason, someone had understood you. He understood you, and he saw straight through you, and he still held onto you. 

(But, by the morning, you had already pushed that idea so far back down, that you would have forgotten how real it felt, when you let yourself feel it. But, by the daytime, you were sure again that you were imagining these things about Patrick Zweig, and you allowed the familiar pull of loneliness tearing you apart just a little more, crying for something that didn’t exist. And inside, you kept a secret from yourself- that all of you was hoping for just one more night that you would let yourself be held by the memory again.)

–

You saw Patrick again in passing on the few times he came to visit Art. He always seemed to try and talk with you, despite you brushing him off every time. Once, much to your dismay, he came with you and Art to grab your usual coffees before your lecture together, and Art basically struggled to hold back his laughter at Patrick, whom he had always seen as the charmer who moved on from girls almost instantly, seemingly try his hardest to try and get you to break a little. And while Patrick respected your space, and left you alone when you brushed him off, he seemed like he was longing for some sort of conversation with you.

And the truth is, Art would’ve advised Patrick to fuck off a long time ago after you ignored him for the first time, if you had wanted him to leave… but Art knew you, and based on the way that you always blushed whenever Patrick’s name was brought up, and you always fidgeted with your jewelry and hair anxiously even as you openly ignored Patrick, Art knew you were just pushing him away. Art had seen you do it before, and while he allowed you to push Patrick away over and over again, part of him just loved to see how much Patrick actually let his guard down around you. For the first time in Art’s life, Patrick was really nervous about a girl. So nervous that his cocky, charming alter-ego completely fell when you were there. Because Patrick understood what Art had noticed in you- you were also hurt, and really really persistent in protecting yourself, hiding any vulnerability. And Patrick was the same- but something about you made him ok with showing that he cared. With you there, he couldn’t help it. 

Patrick visited Art a total of 3 times that semester (not that you were counting, definitely not), and for each visit, Patrick tried to approach you at least one time, wanting to really talk to you, but always giving you space whenever you signaled for it. He felt bad being so persistent, constantly trying to understand and follow any rules or boundaries you were setting, but it felt like you were being purposefully vague with him. So, he followed your lead as best he could.

And to be honest, you didn’t even know what you wanted either. Your mind told you that you needed to push him away. But you just couldn’t let him go completely either. But it just couldn’t work out. Everything was confusing, and nothing you could do felt right. You didn’t like him, you couldn’t. You didn’t. 

Unfortunately for the both of you, Art could easily tell that you and Patrick were both way too into each other- but there was just no way to get you to let your guard down in front of Patrick. You seemed terrified to let him care about you, even though Art could tell you had a soft spot for him, and how much you forced yourself to block him out. But every time you told Patrick to leave, he made sure to leave you alone and give you the space you wanted… but you always just ended up looking depressed whenever he left, no longer talking and shutting down even more than when he was there. And by the end of Patrick’s third visit, after you spent the whole time trying to push him away, but you then always stayed around Art’s dorms and tennis practices when Patrick was there. Always near him. Art couldn’t help but notice how you locked yourself in your room for a few days, and looked unusually and consistently sad every time he saw you for at least the next week. 

God, you two were absolutely, undeniably lovesick, and it was getting more obvious in every interaction. 

—

As you neared the last month of your first semester of college, you almost forgot about the yearly Stanford tradition that was inching closer and closer- family weekend. 

Well, actually you didn’t forget at all. How could you, when you got like at least twenty reminder emails in the past week, and saw the flyers for the activities that were planned for all of the students to do with their parents. You were fully aware that family weekend was nearing…

And you just didn’t tell your parents about it. You didn’t have to. And honestly, they were so focused on taking care of your older sister at her school, that they didn’t even keep up with any Stanford news. (and, even if they had seen one of the many emails that were sent, they didn’t mention it, because they ended up making plans to visit your sister over the weekend). And so, you were going to be alone on family weekend. 

You crafted a plan for this weekend nearly identical to the one you had for thanksgiving- ask for a couple bottles of wine from your sorority friends, order a shit ton of food to your dorm, and hide inside and pretend that nothing else exists from Friday to Monday. 

And that was the plan. Sure.

Until Art had a different idea.

“You know, since my grandma’s house is only like an hour away from here, and she’s gone for the weekend, I was just gonna stay there for the weekend. And I have spare bedrooms, and air mattresses in the basement, so like last minute now I’m hosting boys and girls tennis teams, and we’re partying all weekend. I guess a lot of tennis kids don’t care to see their folks this weekend either,” Art grinned at you excitedly, looking a little too excited to explain his plan. “And you know… you haven’t told me about what you’re doing, but on the off chance that you were free this weekend I saved a room for you in my house if you’d want to come. No pressure,” he says, and you definitely don’t miss the glimmer of excitement that flashes in his eyes when you nod your head, deciding to just let Art win and not try to put up a fight. To be honest, it’s not like you were doing anything good locked up in your dorm room, so you might as well go to Art’s house. Worst comes to worst, you’ll just hide and read your novels in the guest room there anyways. 

“By the way,” Art says, looking slightly nervous but also clearly holding back a smile, “Patrick’s gonna be there this weekend too, if that’s ok. You don’t have to talk to him at all, it's no pressure at all.” 

–

The rest of the week passed by you like a breeze, and by Friday morning you were packed for the weekend and ready to go. You had packed a combination of casual cute clothes and some sweats as well, since Art had claimed that this was all gonna be chill and casual. 

All of Art’s guests had to organize rides for themselves, but since you weren’t part of the tennis teams, Art had immediately offered you to go with him. Art was always weirdly good at identifying what was making you anxious, and trying to find a solution if he could. So, after an hour car ride of you blasting your favorite songs with the windows while Art drove you both down to his house, and you realized how much you missed obnoxiously loud music**** and speeding down highways while you were living at Stanford. 

****(Irrelevant author’s note: in my mind, I’m imagining listening to the Jeff Buckley songs Gunshot Glitter, Nightmares by the Sea, and What Will You Say, specifically the live version from the Theatre de Fourviére, Lyon, France. Yes, it being this specific exact live performance is very important to me! And for bonus points, the Radiohead songs Airbag, Just, and How To Disappear Completely (depressing but heavenly at full volume), and also for something fun and loud, the song Closet by Fleshwater. Trust me that song is so good omg. Ok thats it from me byee <3).

It seemed like no time at all until you and Art arrived at his (insanely oversized) house, and as you pulled into the smoothly paved driveway, you felt a breath of relief escape from your lips. You didn’t fully let yourself process just how much you were dreading the Stanford family weekend until you realized that you actually, officially escaped it, and the relief washes over you like a cold rainstorm finally breaking through a heat wave so long, you had forgotten that the burning feeling wasn’t normal. 

While the thought of your family not even noticing, or more likely not really caring about, the family visiting weekend burned in your chest, it at least felt good to get some physical distance from the festivities going on back at school. And even though you loved Stanford, and it started to feel like your true home, you knew it would do you good to be physically forced out and away from your beloved dorm room, after trapping yourself in it so much (which you had also been planning to do again this weekend). And besides, you knew that Art was going to set you up with a cool guest room, which, although you didn’t want to admit it, would definitely be way nicer than your cramped little single dorm and rock-hard twin bed that you had grown used to. (No hate to the dorm room from this story we still love u queen <333)

Walking through the front door of Art’s house felt like another sigh of relief, a pestering weight being lifted off of your shoulders, even if just for this weekend. Since you traveled with Art you two arrived a little before everyone else, so you two share a bottle over overly-expensive sparkling rosé (that is definitely too fancy to be consumed casually like this, but Art clearly doesn’t care), while the two of you hang around as people start to arrive and leave their stuff in their rooms.

It’s only like 7pm on Friday night when the party has already seemingly started, all of the guests having arrived and just too excited to wait to have fun until later that night. You find yourself more relaxed at this party than at the usual frats, sipping on some other expensive champagne that Art opened for you, actually savoring your countless glasses you’re drinking, instead of your usual chug of overly strong liquor-filled complete mind-escaping drinks. You queue up songs and walk around the ground floor, the kitchen, the living room, and the game room all filled with different groups of tennis kids playing games and hanging out. It feels a lot more low stakes than the usual frat rager, and you enjoy the slight warm and fuzzy feeling you're getting from the alcohol, instead of drinking until you stumble around and your head feels empty. 

You almost get surprised when a song that you’re sure you didn’t mean to queue up, Lover, You Should’ve Come Over by Jeff Buckley, the live from the Cabaret Metro in Chicago version (yes it being this live version is important to me) starts flooding the room. The song is definitely too gut-wrenching to be playing at a college party, you think to yourself, but you also don’t make any effort to skip the song or turn it off anytime soon. Hearing this song blasted over the speakers, surrounding you in its emotion and vulnerability, feels almost like a complete catharsis. And of course, as if in a queue, you spot him across the room…

Patrick. fucking. Zweig.

He looks up at the same time as you, the bridge of the Jeff Buckley song blaring and the timing feels too in point, like some sort of dumb set-up. And you almost want to roll your eyes, but you can’t move your stare away from his eyes, and without even trying you feel like you can read straight through his intense gaze, like you’ve both been hypnotized by each other’s expressions. And as you hold eye contact for far too long to be normal, you see a break in his expression. For a single moment he looks completely fragile, and his walls have broken straight through. And in his eyes, you see a glimmer of sweetness, and even though he’d tried approaching you several times before, he had never looked this lovesick and cute before. And though you’d only met a few times, and you tried to convince yourself you didn’t care, something in you broke down from the way he was looking at you… and for a passing moment, you could read the loneliness behind his expression, and you could feel it tearing him apart too, the same way it did to you. And for the first time you let yourself notice a concealed sadness in his eyes that felt so familiar, a thought crossed your mind that said that somehow, you must have known each other all your lives.

The moment only lasts until you blink, and you realize that you had fully stopped breathing for the past 39 seconds, looking at him. Your mind swells with a hailstorm of countell words, your thoughts connecting and swirling into tornados, and you couldn’t help but just sit there and feel them breaking down your strength and burning doubts through your memories. You felt as old memories started echoing through your body, and your mind was filled with alarms blaring, begging you to not let the past happen again, screaming at you to run or hide.

You tried to pay back attention to the music, which had moved from Jeff Buckley songs and was now playing some old SZA that Art must’ve cued up, and you tried to focus on the music, wishing that it would drown out the noise of the alarms that still tortured you, and your thoughts were so loud you thought they might overflow. Needing to get out, especially before Patrick saw you like this, you rushed over to Art, desperately needing to reach the nearest escape route.

“Hey Art, which guest room is mine?” you ask, trying to press a fake smile on your face, willing your face to look happy, but your voice chokes as you desperately hold into the tears threatening to stream down your cheeks. Everything is too overwhelming for a second, and while you try to focus just on the music, the random groups of friends hanging out around you start to feel like they’re closing in on you, and their drunken giggles and chatter start to sound like they must be talking about you. All of a sudden you feel suffocatingly claustrophobic, and you can’t help but choke on your breathing. Just praying to the tears and sobs you’re clinging onto can stay back for just one more minute, at least until you get to the stairs. 

Art looks over your face, almost worried but trying hard not to press into you and make you feel worse. “The stairs are through there”, he says, gesturing to a hallway on the right, “and your room is the third door on the left. There’s a little sticky note with your name on it up on the door, I put one on yours and Patrick’s rooms to reserve the best rooms for you guys,” he explains, trying to give you a comforting smile, trying to show his understanding without making you feel delicate, even though you look like you could break at any moment. He’s never seen you like this, so opened, and it’s like someone completely tore down the walls and guards you always keep around you. The coldness that usually sits in your eyes is gone, and while you may just look kind of upset to most people, Art can tell how unprotected you feel right now. He nods and guides you over to the hall that leads to the stairs, but he lets you walk up alone so that you don’t have to cry in front of him. Despite his instinct to comfort you, he knows that you want to be alone right now, so he lets you go. 

Your conversation with Art goes mainly unwatched and you sneak out of the party pretty successfully, as you’re finally out of sight from the crowded living room, stepping slowly up the soft beige carpet that drapes over the tall spiral staircase. Once you’re completely hidden from the party, you finally let yourself lose control over your spilling tears and silent sobs, rushing up the stairs and into the room that Art had labeled with your name. The guest room looked regal, an ornate white cabinet standing against the wall and a huge, soft bed sitting in the room, the towering white bed frame adorned with a transparent, light blue canopy that draped over the bed, turning the bed into a fantasy-like cove that looked like it belonged on a cloud, not in a spare bedroom of the Donaldson’s mansion. You somehow don’t even have the energy to change out of your jeans before you flip off the lightswitch and crawl straight into bed, letting yourself get swallowed up into the blankets as your tears and mascara silently stain one of several white pillows stacked around the bed. If you weren’t in the middle of crying you probably would’ve laughed at how extravagant and detailed the Donaldson’s guest rooms are, the whole mansion feeling like it should have been more out of Downton Abbey than the house of Art Donaldson. There were also somehow like 5 other bedrooms scattered around the house, and you didn’t even want to imagine what the rest of them looked like. 

Sniffling, you close your eyes and do your best to breathe, pushing away the thoughts that you feel eating at you, echoing around your mind, waiting for answers- what the fuck happened there with Patrick? You took one good look at him and wanted to cry, like what the fuck. 

The familiarity in his expression is haunting- you’ve spent so much time feeling alone and misunderstood, and you’d just figured that no one would really get how you feel, and that was ok… But he understood it. He understood the loneliness tearing you apart, and maybe somehow he felt it too. But why would some random, rich, popular tennis player kid understand you out of everyone? How could he understand feeling unwanted, when he looked like that? And the memory of his brash, cocky smile makes you want to cry even more, you can’t believe you’re getting attached to someone who clearly wouldn’t care about you. You had tried too hard to push him away, and not let yourself get close to him whenever he came to visit… but something about tonight made you feel completely powerless. What scared you the most was that during all of it, you could feel that all you’d really wanted in that moment was to be wrapped in his arms, and told that everything was ok. You just wanted to feel cared for- you didn’t want to feel the pain by yourself. And feeling like that was genuinely terrifying.

And as much as you hated the truth, you also felt so relieved to admit it. To maybe be ok with it, even though it seemed terrifying to trust someone like that again. But despite how much you hated the truth, it felt freeing to stop forcing yourself to deny it, even if it was just for a moment.

You let yourself sink into sleep, and despite the night being hard, it somehow felt necessary- and while you know that your guard won’t stay down forever, it at least felt good to let yourself past the walls for the first time in a while. 

–

The next day you woke up to an intense beam of sunlight pouring straight through the windows and onto your bed, and the tension that you’d been holding in your body doesn’t feel so tight anymore. 

As you climb out of the sunlit bed and step onto the cold wooden floor, you can’t help but cringe when you realize you slept in yesterday's clothes. And jeans. You really were completely drained, and you must have also been crazy tired yesterday- maybe that’s why everything felt so intense, and your little moment with Patrick was not as terrible as you thought, right?

You changed into a new outfit for the day, fixing your hair and redoing some makeup, and you went down to find an already populated kitchen. You ate breakfast and made small talk with some friendly tennis girls, checked in with Art, and curled up on a couch and read for a couple hours- you tried to not hide in your room, but you definitely were also not going to waste all of your energy before the night even began.

By the time you had gotten up that morning it was already past 10am, and the rest of the day seemed to just breeze past you, as you alternated between reading, hanging out in the backyard with Art and some of his teammates, and you even passed by Patrick a couple of times without psyching yourself out too much.

You were curled up on the couch the first time he walked through the living room, and he smiled at you when you looked up. But the proudness and obnoxious confidence that he usually bared in his smile was absent, his expression just kind of cute and soft, a stark difference from the usual intimidating mask he has on. He ends up just passing through the living room and going to the kitchen, but his smile sticks in your mind for a little longer, your slight surprise as the pure softness of his look still present in the back of your mind even as your mind wanders away from him and back into your reading.

You two pass by each other a couple more times that day, and you notice how even when he greets you in public, his guard falls for just a minute when he looks at you, his loud facade falling just for you. Art clearly notices too, and you can see the amusement on his face whenever Patrick looks over at you, stealing small glances at you when you don’t notice. He’s told both you and Patrick enough about each other that you two don’t seem like strangers despite this being your second time meeting. He can’t help but let out a laugh when he sees the way you look back at Patrick though- your stare back at him is cold, and even though Art knows that you’re not doing it on purpose, you never really smile back- you seem more focused on reading Patrick’s smile than focusing on your own face. And no matter what, you consistently look away from him first, and your cheeks burn a little red every time you look away.

You two continue your silent game for the rest of the day, and you let it happen. Patrick Zweig was pining. 

Even after your constant pushing and pulling, and avoidance, and dismissing of Patrick, he was still there. After fucking months. And for some reason, he understood you. And he fucking waited, he waited for you to open up, and he didn’t even know if you every would. And he cared for who you were. Even when you were really fucking embarrassing. And maybe, possibly, he isn’t just trying to hurt you, and, like, someone could actually care. And you wanted to let him. You did. 

But you stayed quiet.

-

By the time the sun had set, you had decided to accept your fate as completely hopeless. And you were completely exhausted. And you decided that you should just talk to Patrick and tell him it’s over, and you don’t want him. And you knew it would be a blatant lie, and he would know it was a lie, and even fucking Art would know it was a lie, and you didn’t know why you were doing it. 

And you could again feel yourself being ripped to shreds on the inside. And you knew it was your fault, and you were making it happen. And to be honest, all you could think about was how you wished he was holding you. And you wished for things to slow down, and for the constant alarms in your mind to quiet down, and you just wished that everything could just cease to exist for one moment, so maybe for once you could have a break. 

You and Art were the only ones left outside, surrounded in a total silence that was more vulnerable than anything you had ever said to him. And you tried to tell Art about how you really, truly, didn’t want Patrick. But the words just didn’t make sense. How could you end things with someone you had never even started with? How could you even explain to Patrick that, even though you had always rejected him, that you actually wanted him the whole time, and now you don't? And how could you even admit to Patrick that you wanted him in the first place? And how can you explain a feeling this complicated? 

“It’s fucking torture. Even just thinking about him is fucking torture,” you say, your words piercing the silence that had laid so comfortably over you before. 

You watched as Art turned his face, looking at you, but not saying anything.

You let out a shaky breath before continuing, “It’s just… I don’t even know anymore. I don’t understand why I can’t let myself be happy for once. For the first time, I feel like I’m just completely breaking. Like, I can’t protect myself anymore. It’s like I’m fucking killing myself keeping people away, and I feel like it’s what I need to do to protect myself, but I’m fucking dying maintaining this. And I don’t want to be like this. I want to be different.”

And you just… cry. 

And for the first time, you don’t hide, and you don’t try to run away. You sit there, and cry. And you just let it happen. 

You look over at Art and break a small smile- “Can we watch a movie?” You ask, your voice still a little shaky.

And, of course, Art grins and nods- “Yeah. of course. We can go to the little lounge upstairs,” he says, getting up alongside you as you both walk indoors.

Just like last night, the entire ground floor of Art’s house is filled with the tennis kids partying. But you don’t spot Patrick anywhere as you and Art cross through the living room and reach the stairs, and as you climb up, Art breaks the silence. 

“Patrick’s probably in his room,” Art says, looking straight at you, practically having read your mind.

You roll your eyes and let yourself smile, softly responding, “could you maybe invite him?”

Art nods, pointing to the TV lounge room, saying “there’s the lounge room. I’ll ask Patrick. Meet you there,”

The wooden floor planks make a slight creaking noise as you walk down the hallway, entering the little room that Art had pointed to. It’s just a little lounge room, with a sofa and an armchair facing a tv. You pick up the remote and start fiddling with it, sitting down on the big couch, sinking into the cushions. Your heart rate goes up a little as you hear footsteps coming near the door, and Patrick walks into the room, followed by a grinning Art. Patrick sits on the other side of the small couch, while Art snatches the remote from you and claims the armchair. 

“Any requests?” Art asks, flipping through the different streaming options. Neither you nor Patrick answer, so Art ends up flipping through the options before picking some random, terrible looking horror movie off Netflix. He turns off the room lights as the movie plays, and you curl into the couch. You can’t help but look over at Patrick, watching him stare at the screen, clearly deep in thought. 

You watch Patrick for a long moment, and although you can feels the alarms in your head waiting to go off, you just stay still. And you feel scared for a second, realizing just how unguarded you feel, and how easily you could just fall into Patrick’s hold. 

And for the second time that night, you cry. The tears stream silently down your face, and Patrick looks over as you wipe them off. And you just cry. You cry because you’re lonely, and you cry because it hurts that you just want to feel cared for so bad. And you cry because you wish you could’ve told Patrick or Art about your family, and you hate that you feel so damaged. You cry because you hate how Patrick and Art understand you so well, and you cry because you know that Patrick understands you because he feels it too. And you cry because you hate how much you’ve resisted Patrick, and that you didn’t let yourself even talk to him. And you cry because you regret pushing Patrick away so much, and you cry because you watched him open up for you, and you couldn’t do it for him. And you cry because you miss the way he touched you on that first night you met, and you cry because you feel dumb for crying.

And Patrick can’t help but just look over at you, your knees curled into your chest as you cry. And he doesn’t know what you’d want him to do. He’s never seen you cry like this, and he can tell how much it hurts to cry in front of him. “Hey,” he whispers, looking over at you, your face tucked into your knees, and for the first time, you seem so small. His gaze softens when you look up at him, letting him see your tear-stained face. And in that moment, the couch seems so big yet so small, and he just wants to hold you.

And Patrick can see Art out of the corner of his eye, observing the scene. And Art almost looks frozen in awe, looking at how his best friend looks at you, and how you look back at him. 

You and Patrick look at each other for a beat, when Patrick almost inaudibly whispers, “can I come closer?”

You nod, letting go of your knees pressed against your chest, and move closer to Patrick. And you can't help but meet his gaze again, as he leans in and scoops you up into his lap. And you’re curled up against him, your head his chest, as he wraps his arms around you and just holds you there. Patrick looks over to Art, who is now watching the movie intently, as he glances down at you, trying to make sure that you’re ok.

Art looks over at you two and can’t help but smile at the scene, seeing both Patrick’s tough act and your cold defenses just completely let down. But it’s really late, and he quietly gets up, whispering to both of you that he’s going to sleep and good night.

And wrapped up in Patrick’s arms, you let your eyes close and you nuzzle your face into the crook of his shoulder. And he holds you tighter. Patrick leaves a kiss on the top of your head, as you whisper, “Can we lie down? I’m tired”

Still refusing to let go of you, Patrick adjusts to lay across the couch, and you lay over him, as he holds you flush against his chest. As his arms wrap around you, he rubs circles across your back with one of his hands, and holds you tightly against the other. 

And you feel safe in his arms. And as you drift off to sleep, you feel that maybe, from now on, you won’t have to go through everything by yourself.