#this first chapter also sets up some things so it's not the most exciting thing I've written but

[pomegranate-pen]

Stranded. boom!sonicxfem!reader

chapter 7. captive and captivation.

masterlist.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?”

Pink suitcases of all kind fill up the small living room, making it a bit harder to move around the place. Hence why you’re glued to the couch watching Amy and Sticks prepare. Amy looks at you worryingly, it was as if you were a toddler being left alone for the first time in her life. Which…is technically not untrue, minus the toddler part.

“Amy can take two guests with her y’know.”  Sticks clutches her own bag on her shoulders, a normal hand-made one with leather. Compared to Amy, she looks at the array of suitcases with utter confusion. “but I guess you’d have to pack light.” A huff comes out of her.looking back at Amy with a tinge of annoyance. “Do you really have to pack this much? It’s only a two day trip!”

“It's not just a ‘trip’ Sticks!” Amy starts getting giddy with excitement. “I’m being invited to Comedy Chimp! That’s the best thing that could’ve ever happened to my business!” ah, right. Comedy Chimp, the one and only late night tv show who speaks with celebrities of this Island. Another new information you’ve learned during your few weeks here. Though not as much as a shocker as the very idea of anthropomorphic people even existing, with your shock on the latter completely phasing by and dying at this point, you’ve come to question more about this world you’re living in.

First, it was the media itself. Somehow, they have their own internet, their own certain electricity and connections that set them completely disconnected from the world outside of theirs. It’s baffling, really. Though you’re not the most expert in this topic, surely they’re connected to it somehow, right? If not, you wouldn’t have been able to connect to Jason in the first place…but then again…you do always have to call him on the highest mountain of the place, with the lowest internet possible and a very glitchy and often blurry figure of Jason on your screen. Perhaps, you should try and see if you have the ability to text and load up videos as well. Maybe with the help of google maps you can pinpoint where you technically are. Despite the idea fresh in your mind, another thought dwells on you, one that makes you huff. You’d rather not let your sudden quick activity on the internet alarm Louis. It’s been quite the two months, suddenly appearing online could raise unwanted attention.

With that out of your mind, you try to trace back to your first thought. Right, the Island’s media. They all have their own celebrities, some you’ve only heard by name, such as Tommy Thunder, and others you’ve seen pictures of, like the eagle on the chocolate bar you're on your first day here. and the third of them were the big stars. Though only a handful, their presence is very well known among the residents. Though deep diving and researching about how and when they have gotten famous feels like a rather fun feat, you’re more curious about something much more boring.

How do they make these certain merchandise and objects?

You will be honest, this Island is no safe place. If the almost active volcano wasn’t proof enough, there is also Eggman who destroys the town constantly, and from what you’ve heard by Sticks and Amy, things such as meteor showers and hurricanes are not uncommon. A very horrifying thought, given how Amy’s house is quite frankly not the safest in terms of structure. Not to mention, you’re soon to be housed in a tree. So yeah, not a nice thought.

But here is the thing, here is the subject that has been bombarding your mind from the moment you’ve woken up. you only know one section of the entire huge Island. Some could argue that you know four, if you count the jungles, beaches and volcanoes. But, all of those places are only a few feet apart, and one can only see them as one zone of the Island. Your proof? Comedy Chimp.

You see, dear imaginary competitor who is trying to reason with y/n’s logic,the host of Comedy Chimp-er… whose name is also Comedy Chimp- does these certain skits. Afterall, there aren’t enough celebrities to interview on a daily basis, so their routine is a bit different from what you’d be used to. They interview a celebrity once a week, which is usually on Friday nights, and before that day, they constantly try to put clues on the show for people to stay tuned and try to guess who the celebrity will be. Clues, who get separated in different skits around the island that the host does. The first night when you watched him, he was in a desert looking area, a place that shocked you and made you ask Amy where he was exactly. Much to your shock, Amy replied that it’s a certain section of the Island away from the town, then she started to ramble about how it was beneficial to the ‘ancients’ in the past. That would also explain why you’ve never seen the studio for such a show, or a studio for any show on their channels for that matter. They were on the other side of the Island, one completely unknown to you. and perhaps, even, it would have the workshops or factories that create products like that eagle chocolate  bar in such a rapid pace.

“-Y/n? were you even listening?” Before you could even delve deeper, Amy’s voice snaps you out. you look at her with a bit of guilt. “yeah- I think? You were talking about why you need all these suitcases.”

“So you agree?” Amy grins triumphantly at Sticks, whom was grumbling and rolling her eyes.

“well…” you huff, and Amy and Sticks both now look at you with little anticipation. “I mean- it’s best to be prepared- but how are you going to carry all of these by yourself? Won’t it be exhausting?”

“uh, hello?” her posture straightens up in pride. “You are speaking to a soon-to-be celebrity and the most successful business woman of all on this island!” Sticks seemingly rolled her eyes at that.

“he’ll probably just ask you dumb questions.” Sticks groaned. “How are you so sure he’s the right guy for a sponsor?”

“Can’t you be a bit more supportive?” Amy sighed. “ not even Sonic got an interview with him yet.”

“Exactly.” Sticks replied. “ He's out of actors and models around here, so now he’s lookin’ for us for content!” she suddenly grumbles. “ain’t no way I’m letting that stale-joke-stealing guy get any money out of me.”

“Well, he’s not interviewing you, he’s interviewing me.”

Sticks sighs at that. “Just warning ya.” She grabs the suitcases and walks through the door. “don’t come crying to me when he doesn’t ask you anything about your new business!” she says, as if she wouldn’t gouge Chimp’s eyes out if he insults her best friend in any way.

“Say, which business are you trying to promote here?” you spoke up, grabbing Amy’s attention as she was zipping up the last bag.

“interior design!” she gleefully answers. “ you did say I had a knack for it, so I thought why not make a business out of it?”

“Well, yes- you do have talent in it.” you take a glance around the house, confirming your own statements to yourself. “But are you sure you want to make every hobby of yours a business?”

“What do you mean?”

“well—“ you sit up a bit more straight. “ You don’t need to make every hobby marketable to prove to yourself that you’re good at said hobby. And you already have so many classes you run, are you sure you even have time for it?”

“oh please,” Amy scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Have you even met me? I am the queen of schedules! I’m sure I can make time for it.”

“hold on-“ Sticks now joined the conversation. “you mean to tell me you didn’t even start the business yet?!””

Now faced with two worried friends and a load of doubt, Amy stutters a bit and then grumbles. “ Trust me on this,guys! This will be highly marketable! Next week you’re going to see me in the magazine!" She strikes a fashionable pose. “Amy Rose, model, business woman,artist, entrepreneur and interior designer!” she strikes another. “What's next for this sublime pink beauty? Go to page 68 to find out more!”

“Do magazines actually have that many pages?” Sticks’ questions go unanswered.

“Well, if you say so.” You just shrugged. It’s not your business,anyways. If this is what she wants to promote, then who are you to stop her? “I hope it goes well.”

“promise me you’ll watch it?” Amy’s eyes are one of excitement, an excitement that quickly shifts to slight concern. “and that you’ll make sure the house  is not trashed by the boys when I come back?”

Two days where you’re alone, one where it’s off to work in the morning, but after it is a well needed rest after the hellish work week you’ve been through. No matter how many animals you patch up or inspect, the rows and reservations at the vetirinary are never-ending. You have a few plans on how to spend the weekend. You’re not sure why Amy’s so worried about the house being trashed, but from what you heard, last time she let Sonic and Knuckles take care of the place it didn’t go so well. something about a couch fiasco. though, since she seemed concerned, you gave her a reassuring smile, hoping it’ll calm her nerves down.

“promise.”

---

The clement household was always known to be cold.

Outside it’s walls, it’s a beautiful, warm victorian-like manor deep within the forest, it’s a princess’ castle and a house pet’s oasis. But within the old rose-covered walls lies a cold, dimly lit, empty house. Even the employees within the place are as quiet as ever, their shoes barely leaving a ‘click’ or a ‘clack’ against the smooth wooden floors.  The lack of noise is the complete opposite of what Cameron is used to. 

Being one of the ‘generational’ families whom have saved the world from doom centuries ago had it’s perks and very small disadvantages. One disadvantage being the oath the families took amongst each other to meet when one wants to speak with them. It’s known as a greta way of teamwork and companionship, breaking it would be considered shameful and done in pure distaste. Which is why he’s here today, in the Clement household by the request of Louis Clement, this year’s biggest jackass.

It’s a request that had his mother spout praises and excitement while his grandparents spoke about upholding respect and acting with manners of a gentleman, all while his great great uncle sat in silence, like he always has.

His family doesn’t know what he knows, so of course they only see this as a common courtesy and perhaps even an offer for future business relations, but it’s far from that,it’s much more ridiculous, because Louis Clement never learned to grow up and face rejection, and now he’s decided to go haywire because of it.  

There are many reasons on why Cameron never liked speaking with the other children  within the guild. One common excuse of his being that their personalities just didn’t mix well with his. His house was known for intelligence, known to be full of scientist and analyst whom constantly support mankind with their scientific goals. Though now the idea of engaging in the scientific discovery is slowly dimming down generation after generation, the honor and promise of helping it prosper is something they must support, whether his father liked it or not. Oh, and him? Well, Cameron, ‘embarrassingly enough’ as his mother would say, likes conspiracy science. Though he often finds himself disagreeing or just being amused by the prospect of flat-earth or pyramids being built by aliens, there is one phenomena that has never left his mind. For he himself has seen proof of their existence- or at least- he knows a trustworthy man who has.

“I apologize for the short notice Mr.Eclipse.”

Shaky. Louis’ voice seems shakier here than he’s ever heard it. just like any other, Louis often wore a mask of confidence when invited to the annual parties, he was radiant, a star in the middle with beaming eyes and a charming smile. He was the perfect image for the Clement family and has strayed far from showing his insecurities to others. a lesson taught by his family, perhaps. For they too tend to not show any annoyance or grievance to anything. He often heard his grandmother complaining about ‘every generation worse than the other, for Clement’s pure hearts as they call it, can dim and become rotten with time.’ He never understood what she meant, but he can get a good grasp of it now. For you see, it seems like the rumours of Clement’s being emotionless was untrue, quite far from it in fact. They are just as emotional as any other human being, or maybe, Louis Clement is by far the most emotional Clement he’s ever seen.

Louis runs a hand in his hair and straightens his clothes, dressed casual and not in the suits Cameron is used to seeing him wearing. Thank god, because Cameron decided against wearing a suit as well, believing he looks too awkward in such a formal getup.

He clears his throat,preparing to sound utterly poised and formal, remembering how his mother prayed for him to not screw this up. “there’s no need for apologies..uh..Mr.Clement.”

“Please, just call me Louis.”

“Okay..Louis- cool.” Shit shit he already ruined it. oh well, he did say he won’t promise anything, perhaps he’ll be saved from the scolding later. “ so—…can I ask why you called me?”

“Why are you in such a rush Cameron?” because you’re an intense psycho who couldn’t take no for an answer- was what Jason would’ve preferred Cameron to say, and he’ll admit, he wanted to see his reaction to such a sentence as well- but he’d rather not find assassins ready to strangle him outside, so he opted to just stay silent instead.

“Let's go to the garden first. I recently got this sublime tea. It would hurt my feelings if you hadn’t had at least one sip.”

Don’t say anything snarky don’t say anything snarky don’t don’t don’t-

Yet, Cameron has always been a troublemaker at heart. From learning the most confusing and less-evidential of sciences to letting a complete stranger take a relative’s yacht. He could not handle ignoring such a perfect moment.

“Why?  Is it poisonous?”

Louis falters in his step, frozen in shock for a moment, his back turned to Cameron. His shoulders shake, then a bit of wheezing  can be heard. A small wheeze then became a holler of laughter. Never has Cameron heard  a laugh so on edge, so on the verge of mental collapse. Oh god, it is poisonous, isn’t it?

Louis turns back and looks at him with a smile. “ I’ve heard that you were amusing to speak with, but I never expected to be laughing from the first minute that you’re here!” if Cameron were a fool, he’d hit Louis or give him another,even harsher comment, but he knew where the line was and where he stood in it, so he kept his mouth in a tight smile and let Louis lead him to the outside, where a garden overtakes the place and a table is set-up right in the middle just for such occasions. 

He wanted to get a word in, to thank for his hospitality or try to make small chit-chat and avoid the main issue he was here for, because given the state Louis is in, he knows for sure it’s about you. yet, his phone constantly buzzes, and Louis urges him to check it right as their tea is being prepared.

With a strained smile, he opens his phone, only to predictably be met with hundreds of messages from Jason.  An entire line of typos, all he could comprehend being Jason’s way of trying to control his mixed shocked and annoyance from Louis’ invite. Last messages were more comprehensible, longer and well-thought-out, all begging him to leave the place immediately, or hell, never answer the invite in the first place.

Cameron held back a full sob, it’s way too late to turn back now.

 As the delightful smell of a floral tea wafts through the room, it does little to calm his nerves, and he’s left with this constant uneasiness as he tries to look anywhere but Louis’ eyes.“So, Cameron,”  Louis quickly takes a sip, a frown upon his face as he remembers buying this tea for it was specifically your favourite blend, an irony he could not bear to fathom upon, a heartbreak he’s that he cannot process even one bit longer.”I’ve heard an interesting story from your cousin yesterday,” shit. Cameron is in a losing battle, and he now knows that he must die a silent man, never giving away the location of the hideout. “ care to explain your side of the story?”

“…hah..why not?...” he fiddles with his collar, the clothing on him feeling far too itchy now.

-----

On such a beautiful and quiet beach, one would think peace would be exemplary here. Yet, you are fuming with annoyance and rage as your phone barely functions at all anymore. With your charger now just a few scraps of strings, charging the poor thing was always an impossible task. It was like you were forcing your device to do the worst yoga poses for seven straight hours. Therefore, your phone is slowly trading to a no man’s land. It constantly glitches, fumbles, and automatically turns itself off.  Anytime you restart and turn it on, the batter bar keeps showing a completely different number. You were glad such a thing just happened to your phone and not your laptop, because if that was the case, any contact you had with the outside world would be gone forever.

However, you couldn’t help but blame yourself for not doing anything about this sooner. With your phone now in shambles of what it used to be, you can never go back and save the files you had there or retrieve any lost numbers or accounts. your entire life in the city was in that phone, from socials to photos, stupidly satisfying mobile games and old internet friends you haven't spoken to in months now, all of it was now gone. Though you are still grateful to have left the hellhole of a place, it never meant that you didn’t have at least a few good memories there.

A small stab hits your heart, and you find yourself in a dilemma. Are you a fool? Must you pick a world and stick to it and never look back?

This freedom you have feels great, it feels cathartic even, yet, you still find yourself often missing the small things you had in that past life.With how much your mind has been processing your childhood, you’ve been feeling an ache for the small things in life. your mother’s brownies…her teasings and banter with your father in the rare times they did get along..her soothing lullabies that she;d sing to you when you had a nightmare-

You freeze up for a moment. Wait.

God, did you miss your mother of all people?

The urge to facepalm was increasing by the second, your mind now berating you for even thinking about missing a mother like her. nevertheless, your feeling’s were evident. Even after all this dread she;s giving you, all those depressing nights where you considered your own worth, you still ache for the little love she has shown you. Sometimes, in your imaginative mind, you always thought she’d one day look at newspaper tabloids talking about your infamous adventures and say how proud she was of you to all her friends. In your child years where responsibilities were simpler and expectations were far less heavy, you always thought that you’d become a great adventurer and Louis a great businessman, he always claimed that it was his dreams to be the person that makes his parents proud. A sentiment that always felt off to you. you would even sketch out your ideas, show them to your family excitedly and claiming you want to show it to Louis too in the next playdate. These claims didn’t sit well with your mother, as she always coaxed you into leaving them at home for next time, not to tell Louis or anyone else in his family about the matter, because you want it to be a surprise, don’t you? speaking about the art piece would only ruin the amazement they’d feel in the next play date! So never bring it, only do so when mother mentions it.

You’re sure the drawings are up in the attic somewhere, collecting dust with all your other plastic and paper companions you’ve made and talked with over the years, alone in your room unless Louis called. Alone, cold and murmuring your words, not wanting to wake anyone’s attention to your fantasy filled world, full of friends and companions that you held dear, all whom in your teenage and adut life in the city have become w withering memory, yet now, you find yourself remembering a bit more details about them with each passing day. There was the adventurer whom you loved her book and always imagined yourself as her little sister, one cartoon character known to be a grouchy old man with a soft heart whom you’ve always seen as a father figure and—

PLANK!!!

Pain and shock all hit you at once as your head falls face first to the sand below you, a pained cry emitting from you as the banging pain of whatever metal material that has hit your head now takes over your mind. Now, you could only hear two, robotic-like voices, one more wise while the other a bit more goofy and high-pitched. They walk- more like hover- to your line of sight, the presumably red one- you guessed, for your eyesight was now becoming blurry by the second- glancing to your eyes and jolting a bit in shock.

“It seems like she’s still awake.” He tells his yellow, more cubic friend. One whose holding a metal bat with a familiar logo on it. “Cubot, hit her one more time with the bat, but try not to lead into any injuries. Her head is more fragile than ours.”

You couldn’t help but give a strained giggle, startling them both. “..cubot…” you give a small chuckle. “…very….. fitting…”at this point, your mind was becoming far too sleepy to understand even the smallest grains of the sand beneath you, let alone what their exact conversation was about. Something about this loss of senses and eyesight only individualising things by color left you in a state of déjà vu. Only now, the sun isn’t as blazing as it was before, but a cold wind made you flinch.

The yellow one seems to have heard your almost inaudible words, scratching his head with a confused gaze. “really? I always thought my name was ironic. Because I’m the more orb-shaped between the two of us.”

The red one looked at him in disbelief. A blur of stuttered and confused words leave him as he finds himself trying to process the ludicrous thoughts of his friend, all while trying to find the best way to explain in the simplest way possible how his claims are utterly false- yet he gives up mid-second, sighs and just stares at you disappointed, as if he’s seen this scene before and he’s experiencing his own déjà vu as well.

“let’s just…hurry and get this human to Dr.Eggman.” he points to your forehead. “ go on, hit her again with the bat.”

As if to mock you, which a part of you thinks that’s not it, the yellow bot hits the bat a few times on the palm of his hand before bringing it to the top of his head. You quickly close your eyes, swiftly feeling the impact—everything around you fades to black.

-----

You’ve always loved your mother.

Sure, she could be quite annoying at times- her hypocrisy was always a huge problem. Her constant need to make every issue and problem someone else’s fault always made you feel bitter, and her love for you has always felt…conditional.

If you’ve done everything you’re told, if you followed every rule and replied with ‘yes mother’ to every command, she’d adore you to the moon and back and call you her special beautiful girl. However, falter even once, break something or deny an order and you were met with a scowl and a judgemental stare for every action you made, every breath you took and every laugh you had.

You don’t think your mother ever wanted you.

From the moment you were born, you were made to entertain. The very reason of your birth, as your parents often claimed, was because Jason wanted a sibling, because their favorite boy was lonely.

You never really knew how your mother truly felt about you. Like any other parent, she’d claim she loved you, and only wanted what was best for you. to the point where she’d make you abandon all dreams and quirks of yours to fit into the standard she wanted you to be, the person she believed you must be.

There were times where you truly did feel that love, where you’d both laugh about what you did at school, or when yoi both would drink tea and gossip about your dad’s side of relatives. Sometimes, she’d see you and have the urge to hug, claiming she just loved you so much, the very thought of you being her child made her happy. Whenever you were injured or bloodied up, your mother would be panicking and hugging you for dear life, giving you a bountiful amount of love and attention you’d rarely feel from her in normal circumstances.

…there were times where you injured yourself on purpose, just so you could feel her worry. Feel her love. Feel her care.

They say that a mother’s love is unconditional, that no matter what, your mother would always love and adore you. but that was never the case with your  mother. The love you wanted to receive always had a price, always had a condition. And the reason for it is quite simple.

Your mother may love you.

 but she never liked you.

That, is the difference she had with other mothers. Mothers like spending time with their child. They like the child’s personality, hopes and dreams. They can imagine in another universe being their age and becoming their friend. Your mother was never like that. For you are the complete opposite of who she was. and she couldn’t tolerate that. She couldn’t ever accept that.

You often wonder if you’ve gotten the daydreaming side of you from your mother. A side she must be too embarrassed to discuss, because you swear that your mother had already made up a personality for you inside her head right before you were even born. She must’ve been daydreaming about a best friend's daughter, a girl that will help her dear mommy in any way she can and tries to make schedules and routines similar to her. She dreamed about having  a mini-me around. She wanted to raise her childhood self, give the love and support she never had as a child and live life bi-curiously through you.

But it failed. You were a failure. You were born a failure.

Something about that makes your heart ache.

The more memories that flash through your mind, the more you wish to escape your dreams and finally wake up. yet you’re stuck, paralyzed within this state of subconsciousness as more bitter memories flashed through you and more claims are made.

Then, suddenly, a horrid smell fills your nostrils and the world flashes white.

----

“*cough cough* GAH- that smell is disgusting!” a gurgle-like, constantly prideful and annoyed voice rings through your ears. “ I told you to just aim at her, not at me you fool!”

“Sorry boss, but you were kinda right beside her.” A goofier voice said.

“well couldn’t you just tell me?! was it that hard to just tell me to scooch away a little?!” your senses were slowly coming back to you, your mind still in a bit of  a haze. Once more all you see is colors. Shades of red and yellow all around you. with specks of white blending the background.

“but..you said to not talk to you until you’ve finished your villainess monologue to the captor.” It is now you finally regain sight and can fully see who's speaking. It was Cubot, holding what seems to be a gun and a sprinkler attached together.

“and what are you doing right now?” the man beside you, Eggaman, threatened.

“uh….” Cubot looks quiet for a moment, a finger under his chin as he genuinely thinks and contemplates about the question. “..not not talking?”

Eggman’s annoyed face just somehow deepens in its wrinkles and frowns as he facepalms. An angered and exhausted groan comes out of him as he looks at the two bots. “Just shut it and let me do my evil monologue in peace! “ he then sighed. “God, it’s like I have to do everything myself here!” he then turns back and faces the red one, which if you remember,is named Orbot. “ You! go fetch me my hot cocoa!”

“uh…sir..we’re out of hot cocoa powder.” Orbot worriengl;y replied.

“WHAT?! What do you mean we’re out?!—“

As Eggman starts another parade of enraged rambles to the bots, it’s at this time you decide to finally shake up the exhaustion in your mind and comprehend you surroundings. You try to wriggle your body, yet you found your hands tied to the back. great. Just fucking fantastic.

Moreover, there seems to be a barrier around you, a sort of laser-cage that ensures you don’t move an inch from the circle that’s deemed your prison. The room around you is strange, yet awfully intriguing. A house in pure white. Fitting for a scientist, you guessed. Though it was at that moment you remembered that Eggman was technically a robotist- not a scientist. So truly, the house being ensnared in white seems a little jarring. With how there was nothing but a work desk towards your left, a mixture of tools,gadgets  and blueprints cluttering the entire walls of the room, you guessed you’re at his workshop.

You look back at Eggman, who was still scolding the two now shaking bots like he doesn’t have a captor to attend to right now. with a clear of your throat, you grab the group’s attention and parepare your voice to sound unwavering and unbothered, because truly, you didn’t feel much fear anymore around Eggman’s presence. Sure you were a bit worried about his new plan, but from all the stories you heard about his silly antics and your previous interactions ending in his failure, you didn’t feel much threatened by him anymore.

“um..excuse me but- can I ask why I’m being kidnapped?”  you asked. “follow-up question- “ an unknown confidence blurred into you. where it came from, you’re unsure, but you couldn’t help but grin. “Can I have some hot cocoa too? I’ve been craving something sweet for a while now.” a hot cocoa will never beat your mother’s brownies, you knew that. But it didn’t hurt to quench such a craving with another chocolatey sweet treat.

Orbot’s robotic faces somehow switched from neutral to excited as his hands clasped together in delight.”oh why of course! How would you like your hot cocoa? With marshmallows? Candy canes? Oh oh! maybe T-AaaAAH-“

Eggman suddenly  shoves Orbot away, quickly taking his rolling chair and sitting on it with a dramatic, villainy pose. He tries to ignore the pained groans Orbot gave or the clack and clatter of the items around him that fell into disarray as he shoved Orbot away.

He starts off with a prideful, villainous laughter. “We meet again, Doctor.” You couldn’t but hold back a smile, amused on how Sonic’s nickname for you is slowly spreading around the island. It’s nice to have the power to gloat your doctorate without lifting a finger or uttering a word. “ How foolish of you to let your guard down when your little miss ‘fuzzy puppies' partner—” he does a ‘quote on quote' hand gesture. His brows soon furrow and he looks at you with deep offense. “—which by the way, was my fuzzy puppies partner first—” he couldn’t help but mention. “—is out of town for the whole weekend.”

“Are your attacks always this frequent?” you couldn’t help but ask. “don’t you think it’s best to take time creating a plan first for a month or two and then attack?”

Eggman stills quiet for a moment, as if he’s truly considering your question. “And why would I do that?” he countered. “ It's my job to be a constant fear and menace! It’s all in the villain’s code of honor.” He suddenly puts one hand on his chest and the other high-up. “I vowed to destroy everything on sight, to be at present in the news columns at least thrice a month,to see my plans come to fruition as the world around me burns.” In this moment, your mind entertained a thought of a national-villain themed anthem of sorts playing behind him, all while his signature eggman logo was placed on a flag and flying with the soaring winds.

“…but…wouldn’t it give you more time to plan your evil schemes?” you shuffled a bit, trying to gain a more comfortable position even with the laser-like handcuffs limiting your movement. “ like- you could plan more than just another bot attack-you can even have more time to build more complicated robots! I mean- the first one I saw was a pretty strong one. But it probably took a long time to make, right?”

Orbot looked at Cubot with utter confusion. “Is she seriously giving her captor advice?”

Cubot shrugged.“Maybe we hit her on the head too hard?”

“SHUT IT YOU TWO! Can’t you see that I’m having a serious conversation with a fellow doctor?! Go get those hot cocoas ready already!”

With the shout startling both bots, they scurry away to the kitchen. Eggman quickly grabs a pen and paper and eagerly awaits for your input. “Now tell me, what did you think of my last attack at the village?”

---

Despite the shift of attitude with Eggman was a bit amusing, you still tred carefully when expressing your opinions on his previous attack. You made sure to add in advice,but nothing too specific that he could use to ruin the entire village with. It was simple things like attack in open areas next time, or don’t just bring laser-shooting bots in a street fight. Get a bit creative, make-up new bots rather than constantly fixing the old ones.

“Do you know how much money that would cost me?” he grumbled, notebook in hand. “Villainy isn’t cheap, you know.”

“then…how did you get all of this?” you look around the room, fidgeting a bit as you try to adjust your posture in this tied up position. “I’m pretty sure most of the items here cost even more than a few simple bot-making materials…”

Cubot suddenly chimes in. “Oh! we actually bought all of these second hand from villai-“ he’s quickly hit in the head by Eggman, whom was looking at him with warning. “…nevermind.”

“don’t listen to his prattle.” Eggman advised, then he groaned like a tired father. “I may have forgotten to place a few screws in this one’s head when I was making him.”

You felt pity for Cubot, his naivety reminding you a bit of yourself when you were younger. But then again, memory lane has been a horrid bitch to you ever since you got to this island, and you’re finding every little thing to be a reminder of your past. Cubot is now becoming one of them.

“my point still stands.”  You look back at Eggman. “your attacks are becoming way too boring.”

Eggman merely grumbles in annoyance, notebook slammed to the table and arms crossed like a moody child. An awkward silence takes over the room for a moment, making you realize just how uncomfortable your body was getting from being tied up for so long. then, Eggman gives another annoyed grumble and rolls his chair to meet Orbot.

“has he answered yet?!”

Orbot taps a few buttons on the phone, waiting in the line for a moment before sighing and shaKing his head no. Eggman’s brows furrow, he gets up and takes the phone from him and urgently taps the buttons on the phone with much more strength than Orbot has. His foot taps impatiently on the ground as the phone dials.

“ Hey Sonic! I don’t know where you are right now, “ he raised a brow. “probably taking a nap. But in any case- guess what?” he brings the phone to your vicinity, expecting you to say something on the phone. Instead, you gave him a mischievous smirk and then blew raspberries.

“w-what?! No!!!—“ Eggman’s eyes flared up in anger as he looked at you baffled. He then grumbled to himself, nodding and looking at you with annoyance and..a bit impressed. “well played…well played.” He brings the phone up to his ear again. “that wasn’t me by the way. I kidnapped that rebellious human as payback for the humiliation she brought on to me.” he then looks at you. “a payback that will be much harsher now that she has also ruined what was supposed to be a threatening call!” oh well, it was absolutely worth it. you couldn't help but give him a rebellious grin.  “Anyways, I hope this message finds you terribly, “ he hums. “goodbye.”

“Is that how you end every call?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“only when calling my enemies. For fellow comrades, I say ‘I hope this message finds you in an evil-scheming state.’”

“that’s quite the mouthfull..” you mentioned..

“It's the villain code.” He merely shrugged. “ You should see the villainous messages they send me and then judge.” He huffed in annoyance.

“wait a second---“ you looked at him in disbelief. “you…have contact with other villains?”

“What, you thought I was the only being looking for absolute dark control over this Island?” he scoffed.you do remember Tails talking about there being others when you first got here. “ Of course there are other villains. None are as great as me though.”

“no-I know that. I’m just…shocked that you guys like—contact each other. Shouldn’t you all be rivals?”

“We are but…uh..” he scratched his cheek for a moment, trying to find a way to explain it to your non-evil-scheming mind. “think of it..as a classroom.” He continued. “We all have the same enemy.”

“the teacher?”

He hums in delight. “correct! And we all need to beat the teacher by?...” he awaits your answer, acting like a teacher himself. A teacher for villainy. The thought makes you chuckle.

“uh…” you think for a moment, shuffling uncomfortably as the ropes on your wrist scratch your skin. At least the conversation with your kidnapper helps you ignore it. Is this what they call Stockholm syndrome? Probably not. “…by…killing the teacher?....” you joked, unsure of what the correct answer truly is.

“yes!” he exclaimed, Orbot and Cubot clapping for you in admiration. Cubot then turns to Orbot. “ She's really good at this. Are we sure she’s not a villain too?”

Orbot looked at him surprised. “did you just….actually ask a good question for once?”

Cubot scratched his metalic head at that, and you wondered, did…robots ever feel itchy?..did they feel any sort of sensations you feel on a day-to-day basis? Or was this all programmed to their brain as a way to imitate human- well, in this case, anthropomorphic—behaviour? Oh my god, are you actually interested in eggman’s work? Are you a villain in the making?

“but you see, you obviously can’t kill your teacher.” He shrugged. “or at least, they tell you you can’t. And so, what do you do? you do what the teacher hates you doing!.”

“fail their class?” you quickly added, but at the same moment, he too, added,“pass their class!!!”

You look at each other in dumbfounded silence.

“what? Are you pulling my leg here?” Eggman grumbled, yet it sounded more confused than angry. “why on earth would they want you to pass their class?”

“because it’s their job??” you pointed out with a huff. “ I mean- think about it- their entire purpose is to help their students pass—why on earth would they seek joy in failing you? If most students of the class fail, then the blame is not put on the students anymore, rather, it’s put on the teacher themselves, and they lose their job.”

Another eerie silence takes the room, and you’re left with an utterly dumbfounded and shocked eggman, processing the information you gave him.

“did she just….tell us that we’re….we’re actually…” Cubot looked at Orbot in horror. Orbot hesitated, yet turned around to him and soon replied. “..that…we’re actually..helping Sonic be a hero?....”

Your eyes go widened as well, suddenly realizing the simple infodump you just uttered was in fact, the most earth-shattering information they have ever received. To them, this simple flaw in comparison is worse than the curse of Ra itself. A curse that, you’re very certain they’ll bestow upon you now, if given the chance.

Both you, Orbot and Cubot look at eggman in concern, waiting to see what his reaction would be. And yet, he stands frozen, his brows still up in shock and his mouth slightly agape. You couldn’t see behind his glasses, but you were certain his eyes were as wide as saucers now. He stayed like that for an excruciatingly long minute, and Orbot, all while clutching Cubot fearfully, quickly speaks up. “um….Dr.Eggman?....are you…alright?..”

He doesn’t give any response, something that concerns you all even more than before.

“should we dispose of her?” Cubot asked in concern, all while hiding behind Orbot.

“honestly?” you sighed. “I…wouldn’t blame you for that.” It was deserved, really. If you were told that you were actually aiding your mortal nemesis rather than destroying, you’d want to kill the fucker who told you that too.

However, eggman still stayed silent. He soon took a deep breath, his face turning into a deep frown as he turned around and walked to the telephone once more. He clicks a few buttons, then taps his foot impatiently as he waits for the dial to go in message mode.

“hello, Sonic, it’s me again, Dr.Eggman.” he starts formally. “GET YOUR PATHETIC BLUE SELF RIGHT HERE THIS INSTANT BEFORE I EXERCISE THIS…THIS DEVIL UP TO SMITHEREENS!!!” You all flinch and wince at the sudden bang in your eardrums. Yep, this is how you die. By giving the man you kidnapped you an existential crisis and making him think you’re the devil. You hoped Satan would at least give you a high-five for that on your way in. “get here NOW or else!” he quickly slams the phone back in its place, making you all flinch. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. “you..you’re…” he wheezes out, shoulders slouching. “you’re somehow more evil than I am!” he said in a dramatic and slightly fearful tone. “How can you do it so easily?”

You shrugged, despite everything, amusement courses within you. It's impressive how much more confident you’ve gotten these past few weeks. You wonder if it’s because you’ve been surrounded by utterly confident and fearless people. “ It's all from my trauma, I think.”

“ah, so you’re a future serial killer in the making.” Orbot said in the most informative tone ever, a complete opposite energy of the thing he just implied. “fascinating, do you perchance also kill animals for fun?”

You look at him dumbfounded. “…I’m a vet, Orbot.”

“so?” he hummed, and you swore he was a bit amused by this. “ even doctors can be serial killers.”

“I’m done with the conversation now.” you sighed, not wanting to implicate yourself in such a dark light. And yet, they didn’t seem to take the hint. And whether it was for their evil amusement or general lack of intelligence, you were unsure.

“But, let's say you did have the ability to kill someone and get away with it.” cubot chimed. “Who would you choose?”

Eggman, who was distracting himself with some blueprints, also stopped what he was doing, apparently curious for your answer as well. they all awaited eagerly as you hesitated in your reply, in deep thought.

“uh…no one?” you huffed.

“seriously?” Cubot asked, a mix of shock and annoyance in his voice. “there’s not even one person you hate?”

“Well…” you considered things for a moment. What if you had the chance to kill louis? You do hate him for what he;s done. Maybe seeing him dead wouldn’t be so bad. And yet, as soon as you thought of that, the very idea of making him disappear from the world, you remembered the gleam of hope in his eyes, his sheepish smiles and his dumb jokes, his dorky interests, his desperate need to wins everyone’s approval, his desperate thirst for affection. Your heart aches.”…no, not really.” You could never do it. you could never do that to anyone. Not even Louis Clement.

Eggman groaned at that, rolling his eyes. “ So that's why you’re not a serial killer or genius villain.” He muttered to himself. “You care too much. You’re..emotional.” he gagged at the word, apparently sickened by the very concept of it.

“…nothing wrong about caring.” You muttered, your heart in a heap of swirling emotions you can’t comprehend. Eggman rolled his eyes at that. “There's nothing wrong with drinking orange juice after brushing your teeth either…but it still tastes terrible and makes you feel awful, doesn’t it?” he jabbed back.

“..comparing matters of the heart to something as simple as the rules of eating is ridiculous.” You huffed, now a bit offended to have your emotional state be compared to something like that. I mean, truly, what’s the problem with being emotional? Of choosing heart over logic?

“but it’s not wrong.” He continued to jab, shrugging playfully. “ There's nothing wrong with comparing things to food.” He mocked,his evil chuckle further adding more salt to the wound.

With an annoyed frown and grumble, you let the conversation end there, too tired and quite frankly, too hungry to continue this any longer. Soon, your stomach rumbles as your nose catches the scent and aroma of the ever-calming and delightful sweet treat, coco.

“The hot cocoas are ready!” Orbot exclaimed in excitement and delight, reminding you of a mother on christmas night.

Eggman clapped his hands in excitement as he took a mug from the trey, drinking the hot chocolate and sighing in satisfaction. He then snaps his fingers. “Cubot! Take a mug and hold it out for our capture over here.”

Cubot, despite his robotic face, somehow frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. You marveled a bit at how expressive eggman’s creations can get. “Why am I always the one who has to feed the kidnapped?”

“because you can’t even make a simple sandwich.” Orbot countered back with a sigh.his voice then got tinged with a bit of pride. “…let alone masterfully brew a relaxing cup of cocoa.”

“lEt alOnE MastERfuLLY BrEw A ReAlAxINg cUp OF cOaCoa.” Cubot mocked in a whiny voice, annoying Orbot in the process. He then groans, grabbing the mug from the trey and holding it out to your tiny circle-cell, immune to the laser around it, it seems.

You look at the hot cocoa suspiciously, giving a glare to eggman. “this isn’t drugged, is it?”

Eggman looks at you with disgust and offense. “ I’m a villain, not a monster.”

“…fair.” You hummed, giving a shrug, which further annoy your constrained wrists into pressure as you edge a tiny bit closer to the laser cell, Cubot’s hand reached out for the mug to reach your vicinity. You wait for moment for it to cool down, blowing on it a bit to somehow wipe away the steam that was pouring out of it. yet of course, it was to no luck, the steam was never-ending, and despite your better judgement, you take a sip, and soon, your taste buds get greeted to the sweetness of cacao and milk…mixed with….garlic?

Eggman gives a hearty chuckle as you spit out the drink, coughing a bit in shock, your tastebuds practically screaming in horror of the cacophony of flavors. “Still evil though.” He chimed, grinning triumphantly while you gave him a glare.

With a horrible lasting taste of cocoa now invading your tongue, you merely grumble as you zone out, letting your kidnappers chatter amongst themselves as you look at the clock, eyeing the ticking minutes and seconds, wondering where on earth Sonic could be.

It’s embarrassing, really, how much you rely on Sonic and the others’ aid when it comes to Eggman. Surely, you can’t expect them to always be there, right? a pang of guilt runs through you. you’re a deadweight to them, aren’t you? the damsel in distress, god, the thought of it makes you cringe and want to jump off the summit of the volcano. You really need to learn how to fight, or at least, learn self-defense.  But would that even work against someone like eggman, who has an army of bots always swarming the opponents?

Would you ever be good enough to fight alongside team Sonic?

----

Jason punched Cameron in the face.

he immediately cursed, spilling out a mouthful of ‘sorry’s as he helps a wincing Cameron get back up, immediately checking his face and frowning at the blooming red spot on his cheek now. “shit— Cameron, I don’t know what got over me—just—“ he tries to take a deep breath, trying to control the utter panic, terror and rage that was coursing through him. his rage, though unfortunately befallen onto Cameron, wasn’t directed at that poor soul at all. Louis fucking Clement on the other hand, can eat shit.

“no, no, I deserved that.” Cameron groaned in pain, rubbing his cheek to try to soothe the throb. “…I almost fucked everything up.”

“almost.” Jason sighed,tapping his fingers on the table. Brianna’s café feels awfully empty without the utter awkwardness and ‘I’ll-try-my-best-but-you-know-I’ll-somehow-fuck-something-up’ attitude Y/n always had here. he’s been avoiding coming here, for more reasons than just missing his dumb sibling’s presence. Hell, he used to act like he didn't know nor was he related to Y/n whenever she worked here. it’s always been this way. He always acted like they were entirely different people of their own, that their life doesn’t and should not coincide much with one another. it’s what helped him gain independence. It's what helped Y/n gain independence.

‘…maybe a little too much independence.’ He sighed at his thought. After all, only a maniac with no consideration for her family would immediately pack up her bags and run away to a stranded island, leaving her older brother to pick up the mess.

‘….but who drove her to that point?’ is a question that runs through his head day and night, a question he always throws away and tries to ignore how much it gnaws at his brain, eager to answer, yet too afraid to hear it. he shakes his head, taking a deep breath and looking at the now adjusted, yet still a bit in pain Cameron. “…so what did you tell him?”

“utter bullshit.” He huffed,thanking a waitress as she brought him a pack of ice, giving a warning glance to Jason to not lead this to a fight unless he wants to get kicked out. he straightens up a bit in slight alarm, holding his head down respectfully like a soldier. Cameron continued. “told him I took the yacht myself for a ride and broke it, now I owe my cousin a new one.”

“Did he ask anything else?”

“asked about my relationship with you.” he shrugged. “told him I only knew you in highschool.” Jason nods at that, giving out a sigh of relief. Louis suspicions may grow because of this, but at least he’s farther from the truth now. a deafening silence falls upon them. Soon, Cameron looks over to Jason curiously.

“so….what happened to her?” there was a hint of worry in his voice. a hint of guilt over everything. “Is she safe?”

Jason hesitates to answer, tapping his foot nervously. “define safe.”

“…oh god.” Cameron rubs his temples, his worry now evident. He takes off his glasses in stress, as if he doesn’t want to see Jason’s face right now, nor does he want to see anything clearly.

“she’s fine- don’t worry.” Jason quickly added, trying to ease his distress. “just…in a weird place.”

“where?”

“…you won’t believe me if I tell you.”

“Jason,” Cameron looks at him with a deadpan expression. “I believe that there were anthropomorphic beings living with us in ancient times. Nothing can shock me.”

Suddenly, something in Jason’s mind rings, as if a lightbulb has flickered on top of his head as he looks at Cameron with franatic realisation, his posture straightening, eyes quickly skimming to see if anyone is paying attention to them before landing back on Cameron again, leaning a tiny bit closer as he mutters. “….what did you say those beings were called again?”

-----

The voice of cheers invaded the living room’s space, Eggman sat on his red couch, his ‘evil tea’ in hand. (his words, not yours. When asked what makes it so evil he said it was made with children’s tears and the leaves of poison ivy. You weren’t sure if he was messing with you or not. What made it more comical was that his mug was red, and his logo on it with devil horns.) Cubot and Orbot sat on the ground, you being between them. Since the hours of afternoon passed by with no Sonic nor even Knuckles and Tails in sight, Eggman decided to change the location of your imprisonment to somewhere more stimulating. Not for you, of course, but for him. he did consider leaving you here with the watchful gaze of his bots, but that soon changed when Cubot started picking at his own wires again and glitching, all while bumping into Orbot and making him fall, oil in his hands pouring to his circular head, then somehow Cubot bumping onto the counter, flicking the blowtorch and lighting Orbot’s head on fire.

Now, the slightly smoked bot was wiping the remaining cinder off his head, his expression, though limited, showing his discontempt. Orbot was happily watching the television as well, all while a bowl of snacks was in hand and trying to feed you. You were way too embarrassed by the notion, and though you were starving, you refused to get fed like that, remaining uncomfortably tied and still as you tried to distract your mind with the blaring lights on screen. Though the universe loved having you as its jester, fate still seemed to be on your side, helping you keep your promise to Amy by making Eggman watch Comedy Chimp.

After saying some rather dry yet unproblematic jokes, all while showing bloopers of the different residents of the island making ‘silly’ mistakes, the talk show host, Chimp, finally says something worth your attention. “Today, we have an incredibly special guest. Someone pink,someone heroic,” then, he put one of his hands up as if he was telling you a secret. “someone who might be a certain bluey’s girlfriend.” The crowd gives a resounding, choreographed ‘oooohh’ as Chimp winks mischievously, you couldn’t help but feel second hand embarrassment for Amy. “ladies and gentlemen let's give a warm welcome to Amy Rose!” the crowd cheers once more as she enters the stage, and you couldn’t help but proudly smile. Amy seemed a little annoyed, but she smiled politely to everyone, all while giving a glare to Chimp. “for the record,” she says as she sits down. “I am not Sonic’s girlfriend. And even if I was, that is not my entire personality.”

Chimp gives a hearty, professional laugh, looking at Amy with a half-assed apologetic glance. “Sorry ma’am, what can I say, I’m a sucker for gossip.” The crowd laughs with him, and Amy seemingly tries to hold back the urge to roll her eyes.

“So, Amy, tell me, how ya been?” Chimp leans in a bit closer, an act to show the audience he’s somewhat interested in what she has to say, and yet, his tone seemed off to you.

Despite that, Amy’s eyes shine with excitement, her posture straightening up a bit and giddy obvious in her grin. “well, you see Chimp, I’ve been getting very into interior design lately, and—“

“---yeah yeah that’s interesting and all,” Chimp immediately cuts her off with a wave of his hand, a flash of boredom held on his gaze, one that soon reverts back into the welcoming façade before anyone else could notice. “But I mean what’s going on with you.”

“um..” Amy gives a nervous laugh. “..excuse me?”

“oh come on, you know!” he then starts counting with his fingers. “unrequited love, roommate with a  horrendous being,” you choked on air on that one, shock, amusement and horror all going through you at once. Eggman however bolts out laughing, slapping his lap alongside it. “ your restaurant business going to shambles…I mean, it’s been quite the few weeks for ya, hasn’t it missy?”

“First of all, do not call me missy.” Amy growled, her rage now fully evident. while she was sitting poised and calm, her firsts were clenched, her eyes glaring daggers at the host. You admire how she’s trying to control her temper even when faced with such public humiliation,had it been you, you would’ve pounced at the monkey and punched him to death.”Second of all, Sonic and I are not dating. And we never have. And I have a life outside of him, so you better stop associating every little thing I do to him!” she practically screams the last part, you were certain she wanted to say this sentence for a very, very long time. Much longer than when this interview was scheduled. “Third of all,” her right eye twitches. “don’t you ever, and I mean EVER call my friend a ‘horrendous being.’ever.again—“ she then points to him threateningly. “—unless you want a good smack with my hammer for it!”

Chimp gets taken aback, holding his hands up in defense as he gives a nervous laugh. “Woah there Miss-er…Madame Rose,” he gives a strained, stressed smile. “I’m just speaking for the public here— I merely ask what the audience, both here and at home, want to ask you themselves.”

“oh really?” She questions, then looks at the camera scornfully. “Well if that’s the case then, why don’t you cowards come and say it to my face?!” you swore you could hear Sticks cheering her from behind the scenes. A sense of pride washes over you, and unconsciously, your once solemn and curious expression at the start of the show has become one of enjoyment and pride. Chimp taps something in his ear, listening closely before a grin covers his once serious face. “Well then, you heard her folks!” he quickly yells, stealing everyone’s attention as Amy looks at him confused. “both the audience here and the ones at home, why don’t ya give us a call right now and ask your questions?” The crowd cheers once more, giving positive astonishment to the sudden idea, all while Amy looks at them all dumbfounded, soon then grumbling from embarrassment and sitting back down, looking at Chimp judgmentally.

“What does live mean?” Cubot points to the watermark on the top right of the screen.

“it's pronounced ‘lay-ive’ not ‘lee-ve’.” Orbot replied, yet before he could continue, cubot gasped.  “you mean the TV is ALIVE?!” as Cubot smacks his head in shock, Orbot smacks his own head in disappointment.

The more questions popped, the more furious you got. Every single resident has been asking obscenely personal or arbitrary questions, further adding to Amy’s humiliation. You wanted to do something, you had to do something. You can’t just idly sit by (well, kidnappedly -if that even is a word- sit by) and let them ridicule your friend like this, not when she stood up for you.

“Eggman,” you sighed. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“I’m sorry, do you think you’re a house guest here?” Eggman looked at you mockingly. “Do you really think I do favors for my prisoners?”

“I’m not asking as a prisoner,” you countered. “I ask as a fellow doctor and…” your eyes lit up in quick realization, further adding,” as a fellow fuzzy puppies player.”

He raised a brow, crossing his arms and humming thoughtfully. “go on.”

----

‘It is un-lady like to kill someone with your bare hands on live tv.’

That is the sentence that was constantly echoing through Amy’s mind, holding her rage in a tight disciplinary grip, her hands almost ripping her clothes to shred with the sheer grip she has on them.

Is this truly her legacy? She couldn’t help but think. Is this what all her efforts winded up to? all this time spent on being true to herself, on mastering every skill she admired, all for it to be tied to the stereotypical beliefs of hers that she was constantly running from? Amy was enraged, she wanted to scream, to show them how mad she can get, how easily she can cause a wreckage of chaos with no one being able to stop her fury. And she was certain that Sticks was rooting for her to do exactly that. Burn the set down, smash everything up with your decorated hammer.

But, once again, the sentence echoed. Amy Rose was a lady. She was not a brutish man whom only speaks with their fists, even Knuckles, despite all his stupidity that comes from choosing brawn over brain, still is a gentleman when he wants to be. He still holds enough respect and honor to others that he doesn’t go smashing everything just because he feels like it. He is no brutish man, he was a honourable fighter. Sticks, despite all her ludicrous actions, always has the island’s best interest at heart, and yes maybe she did bite some civilians and possibly gave them rabies but— she still did it as a way of protecting the island, to save the most people she can. She is the reason why the jungle is so rich and luxurious, why it’s still alive and hasn’t fallen prey to the industrial, money hungry hands of businessmen like Chimp. In truth, this is who Chimp is. Not a comedian, not a celebrity, not a host, but a businessman. He follows trends, found a solution to a problem, and has made money off of it. People were craving a talk show of their own ever since seeing one in the abandoned cartoon tapes they found at sea, and Chimp provided them with this service.

Yes, everyone has a role here. Everyone has a part to play, and therefore, Amy can’t break away from her script, even if she wanted to. She needed to act poised and well-mannered. She needed to be a lady.

But god did she really wanna punch Chimp right now.

As more questions came and the more snarky yet polite answers she gave, she was beginning to feel a deep sorrow within her. A sense of hopelessness in the moment. Are all her efforts that unappreciated? Is no one ever going to appreciate the hard work she puts into everything she does? What's the point of doing them if no one will be grateful?

“Our next caller’s name is…Y/n L/n. take it away Y/n, ask Missy over here your inquistive question!” her eyes snap open wide from the mention of her name. Amy’s ear quickly sharpens, giving the camera a dumbfounded glance.

“Thank you, jackass.” Your amused voice goes through the speakers, and a sense of relief, amusement and excitement went through Amy’s heart, her once embarrassed gaze now filled with a sense of admiration, all topped off with a grin as she sees the befuddled expression Chimp wears, all while the audience laughs at the caller’s sheer audacity. “Lady Rose,” you start off, treating Amy with much more respect than Chimp, which makes him pout like an angry child. “ you mentioned something about ‘Interior design’ at the start of the show…well, you see, I have this amazing roommate. She has the best goddamn taste in the world. in fashion, paintings and even interior design, she has shown me the sheer beauty that can be seen in even the most mundane of things…I’m gonna get a treehouse soon and, I really, really wanna impress her…so do you have any good tips I could use?”

Amy couldn’t help but let out a huff of astonishment, looking at the camera gratefully, as if she was looking at you only. She gives a small smile, nods her head and leans back in the chair. “Of course, Y/n. I’ll tell you all you need to know…”

Seeing this as a golden opportunity, Sticks hijacked the technical department of the show, threatening or tying up anyone who tried to kick her out, all while keeping you on call with Amy. The show ended in Amy rambling on and on about her business, the audience finally taking her seriously and asking questions of their own, and soon, the once ridiculing and boring talk show has become some sort of a ted talk for Amy Rose, her dream come true.

------

The night was spent in a terrible, ache-filled sleep. And as you woke up with the worst bed-head known to man, you felt a bit dreadful at the fact that there was still no blue speedy in sight. Eggman, however, was blazing with utter fury, muttering curses to Sonic under his breath as he angrily tapped his telephone, leaving his hundredth voice message to him.

With a bit of a drowsy mind, your thoughts drift curiously into a territory you hadn't thought of before, and soon, you bite the bullet and shoot through the silence. “…how did you get here?”

“by walking up the stairs, obviously.” Eggman grumbled, eyes still glued to the telephone. You give a disgruntled hum at that.

“No..I mean…” you look at him as earnestly as you could. “How did you get here? on this island?”

Eggman froze, the dial soon forgotten as his head snapped back to you, a contemplative expression on his face. “…I…” his tone indicated that he wanted to start his story with utter confidence, to explain an epic tale of a villainous scheme, yet, his tone faltered mid-way, as his brows furrowed and his once manically excited grin turned to a befuddled frown. “…don’t remember..” he muttered as if it was more of a question for himself rather than an answer to yours. “ ..I believe I was..on my ship…yes, I woke up on my ship, and found myself here…” he then gives a thoughtful hum. “strange…how come I can’t remember how I got here?...” he then races to his computer, tapping his fingers away as his eyes scan the screens. You’re not sure what he’s exactly searching for, but, if you were a strange scientist who found themselves on a lost island, the first thing you’d do was look at security tapes within that very ship to see what exactly happened. You guessed Eggman was doing just that. “…nothing…” he gave a hum of displeasure, giving the screen a puzzled look. He sits quiet for a moment, but then shakes his head and waves his hands at you. “it doesn’t matter-“ he quickly dismissed. A little too quick for your taste. “all you need to know is that I got here to conquer the Island, and that petulant hedgehog you call a ‘friend’ is in my way.”

“but…why do you want to conquer the island?”

Eggman gives a pleased hum to your question, tapping a red button on his keyboard. “I thought you’d never ask!” he said in a sweetly villainous tone, sounds of machines clanking and engines running roar at the insides of the counter, which soon slid inside and came back up with… a mock-up mini version of an amusement park?....

“….are you serious?” you looked at him in utter disbelief and quite frankly, deep sense of confusion. “you’re…doing all of this to make an amusement park?”

“not just any amusement park.” He mused, taking out a small egg-shaped billboard he had in his pocket this entire time.” Egg-tropolis!” he neatly puts it on the top of the volcano. “a world of egg-tastically fun rides and robotic wonder! Where everything is a goldmine for mone-well…” he clears his throat. “ a gold-mine and safe haven for children! “

“…couldn’t you just…pick another island?” you proposed, and Eggman looked at you disappointed.

“do you truly think I’m dumb enough to not consider that?” Well, you are dumb enough to plan multiple egregious robot attacks on an island with little to no success all for the sake of an amusement park. However, that’s not something you could tell your captor, not unless you wanted to be turned into a robot yourself. Eggman then sighed. “I already tried to leave this place, but there’s some sort of strange barrier trapping us all inside.”

“…what.” You felt a sense of utter dread and confusion go through you. you weren;t even sure why such a fact was so dreadful for you. you never wanted to leave anyway, did you? then why be so glum that the very choice was taken away from you in the first place? “then..how the hell did I get in?”

“that’s the thing.” Eggman grumbled, once again clicking at his keyboard. “the Island lets anybody in, but nobody out. it’s like it locks itself from the outside.”

Strange. This is all too goddamn strange. There's a sense of hesitance and danger in the pits of your stomach, something that tells you the whole thing goes much deeper than a simple, magical and zany coincidence. Whatever it is, it’s..baffling, to say the least. The more you stay in this island, the less you know about it. you give a tired grumble, head falling back to the cold wall behind you as you watch eggman click away,’he’s probably doing something scientific that I’d never be able to comprehend…’

“here are the top ten ways to walk like a villain!” suddenly blares from the computer’s speakers, eggman quickly taking notes.

You hold back your amused huff.’…or…maybe not.’

----

Tick,tock,tick,tock,

The common and oddly comforting sound of the clock echoes through the lab, all of you watching it in boredom, the two robots tired, you uncomfortable, and eggman deeply agitated. As another minute passes by the clock, moving it’s long stick an inch closer, Eggman shoots up in rage. “where in the world is he?!” he groaned. “he should’ve been here yesterday! What, is he too good for me now? am I not a worthy adversary?” with fury bouncing in each step, eggman tears apart some of his blueprints, grabbing a new one and angrily scribbling on it. “I’ll show that pesky bug who exactly he;s ignoring right now—“

A zap of blue passes through you.

Chills run down your spine, a glimmer of hope igniting with your heart, your tired eyes shot up in sheer shock as you look around the room, your anxiety rejoicing and forming into a tranquil song of peace and amusement as you see your favorite speedster.

Sonic huffed in exhaustion, as if he was actually going quicker than he usually was, actually losing his breath from his sheer speed. His eyes quickly scanned across the room, widened and worried. When it finally lands on you, he lets out a breath, his shoulders relaxing.

“took you long enough!” Eggman growled, grabbing a remote control on the table. “Do you know how much my phone bill is gonna cost now?!”

Sonic rolls his eyes,twisting his shoulders and cracking his knuckles. “I’m not the obsessed rival here, Egghead.” He gets into a fighting position. “let go of Y/n and I’ll consider going easy on your toys.”

Eggman’s eyebrows furrowed, head practically turning red in anger as he grumbled. “ They are not toys.” He then points to you. “and for your information, doctor Y/n here had one of the best captive experiences out there. didn’t you, doctor?”

“zero stars.” You immediately replied, Eggman giving you an offended gasp and Sonic grinning mischievously, eyes brimming with amusement. “ The staff kept asking me dumb questions and the room service was shit. My pillow was on the dirty ass floor.”

 “That explains your hair,” Sonic chuckled.

“---again, you’re not a guest here- you’re a captive.” Eggaman countered back, frowning. “you should see how the other villains treat their captives!”

You give Sonic a glare, though there was a playful glint to it. “ Can it, bluey. I’m not the one who's late here.”

“yeah yeah,” he rolled his eyes. “I have a good reason for it.” he then grins. “It's one hell of a story. you still up for chilli dogs after this?”

“Don’t try to ignore me!” Eggman yelled in annoyance, clicking the red button on his remote. “Let's see if you can even survive long enough to even see the outside world!”

As an army of bots runs across multiple sections of the room to your space, practically invading the entire laboratory in a defensive position, you look at Sonic sternly, a playful smile on your face. “I want those damn chili dogs, Sonic.”

Sonic snickered, putting his hands on the ground,his spikes igniting in electrical blue as he smirks. “Roger that, doc.”

----

You’re not sure how long the fight took, but you do know it was much less than an hour.

It seems like Eggman has completely forgotten what he wanted to do when Sonic got here, since it took so long for him to do so. Enraged and frazzled, he practically swarmed him with random bullshit hoping it could defeat his enemy, but of course, Sonic could easily speed through each and every bot, attacking them with rolling ease. When the dust settled and the last bot just straight up shut itself down to save the pain of being destroyed by the hero’s high kick, Sonic quickly stole Eggman’s remote and broke it, the lazer barriers of your tiny prison fading, your shoulders relaxin from relief, yet then wincing as the strain of the ropes hit you once more. God, your back will be destroyed from this experience, you just know it.

Sonic quickly unties you and gives you his hand. Your muscles cry out in freedom, a relaxed sigh leaving you as you take his hand to stand up, yet soon wobbling down and getting grabbed by him. your legs were like jelly, shocked by the sudden jolts of movement you’ve done after two straight days of none. Sonic looks at you with a  tinge of worry as you apologize sheepishly, holding onto him for support.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, eyes raking over your form to look for any injuries. You simply shrugged. “not really…unless you can call a bad cup of hot cocoa an attack.” You tried to joke, to lighten up the quieted mood of the place. Sonic smiled, rolling his eyes as he yoinked you up again, much to your shock.

“You can’t walk, and I can’t for the life of me walk slowly.” He argued before you could even mutter your protest, looking at you with a reassuring smile. “I’m just returning the favor.”

You knew what he meant. The day you carried him. you look at him playfully annoyed. “ I was returning your favor, idiot.”

“Well, let's just say this is returning the favor.” He shrugged, giving you a wink and grin. You rolled your eyes, giving up and wrapping your arms around his neck. He wanted to soon bolt out the door, yet your tap on his shoulder made him stop and look at you confused. You motioned for him to turn around, your figure not in front of a defeated and annoyed eggman.

“For what it’s worth,” you gave a small smile. “I enjoyed our conversations, Doctor.”

Everyone’s eyes widened, Eggman and Sonic looking at you with disbelief, the latter even more so than the former. Cubot and Orbot gave each other confused shrugs, unsure of what to make of this. Eggman gives a begrudging hum of approval, turning his head away from you both. “…….likewise, I guess.”

You smiled, and with a nod to the speedster, you were quickly ushered out of the infamous Eggman’s house, and saw the sunset cast over the island.

------

“Would you stop looking at me?! I can’t eat when someone’s staring!” you giggled, a wave of embarrassment jittering through you as you locked eyes with the excited hedgehog beside you. The chili dog in your hands was giving a sense of warmth through the freezing night beside the beach, the waves a calming allure.

“and miss the expression you’ll make when having your first ever chili dog?!” he shook his head, taking a bite of his own chili dog. “This is a once in a lifetime experience, doc! This is even more important than witnessing a baby’s first steps!”

“multiple parents will beg to differ.” You smile, amused by his eagerness for such a mundane meal. He scoffs in reply, crossing his arms. “ Well they obviously never tasted chili dogs. Speaking of which,” he looks at you with excitement again. “cmonnn, doc, don’t make me wait all day. Eat the chili dog! Eat the chili dog!” he chanted.

You quip a brow. “like how you made me wait two days for a rescue?” you acted disappointed, shaking your head and grimacing. “ you’re such a hypocrite speedy…”

He rolls his eyes, smacking his face and groaning a bit in shame and guilt. “I said I’m sorry, ok?” yet, he grins at you, knowing this was mere play. “ If you eat this now, I’ll never be late to your rescue ever again.”

“promise?”

“I swear on it.” he dramatically puts a hand on his heart. “If I’m ever late to your rescue, I’ll never eat a single chili dog ever again. I vow by it." He speaks in a deeply formal tone, unlike his usual carefree and sarcastic one. It makes you giggle, and sonic beams at your lifted mood, despite the troubles you’ve been through these past few days.

“Then I shall remember this vow, Sonic T.hedgeheog,” you give him a cheshire grin, holding a hand on your heart. “Let the record show that my only reason for eating this chili-filled mess is through the vow and promise of a prosperous future, full of rescues and quick speed.” He laughed alongside you, and soon, an exciting silence filled the room as you brought the chili dog closer to your mouth and took a bite.

“….well?” Sonic asked, an edge of excitement and inquisition in his voice. “Do you like it?....”

“it’s….” you chew a bit more, gulping it down slowly, only to further tease him with your answer. You then smiled and nodded your head. “It's pretty good.”

“See?! I told you!” he jumped in excitement, grinning with triumph. “it’s the best kind of hot dog- no, best kind of food, out there!”

“it’s certainly better than a normal hot dog..” you take another bite, savoring the spiciness of the chili. “much better than anything Meh Burger has, I’ll give you that.” You gulped, then nudged his shoulder. “so…anything else happen besides the whole guilt-tripping thing?” After the initial rescue, Sonic brought you back to your shared home with Amy, explaining the reason for his absence in the two days. Apparently, some civilization in the far corners of the island were constantly attacked by robbers, and after saving them, the people guilt-tripped Sonic and Tails into staying for the night, and were planning on making them live as their guardians forever.

“except the stressful event of going through a thousand phone mails Egghead sent me about kidnapping you? “ Sonic sighed, leaning back on the tree. “nope, nothing to tell.”

“..you gotta admit though, the first message was hilarious.” You giggled.

Sonic chuckled, giving you a reluctant nod. “It was pretty bold, I won't lie…”He smiled. “you’re always full of surprise, aren't you,doc?”

You merely shrug pridefully, giving a victorious smile to the roll of his eyes. You lean back on the tree beside him, both quietly listening to the waves of the water as you look up to the sky. Stuck in a river of your thoughts, you take out your phone and sigh.

“What's wrong?” Sonic turns back to look at you better, giving you a curious glance. You hold out your phone to him, showing the lack of battery power left. “it’s on its last breath.” You reply, scrolling through the pictures and messages that have accumulated your phone over the years.

 Sonic looks at you a bit puzzled. “Can’t you ask Tails to fix it?”

“he tried to but..it didn’t work.” It was the first thing you’ve done on your second day here, immediately after noticing the damaged charger, you brought it back to Tails for repair, only for him to look at you apologetically and explain how the parts needed for it can’t be found easily on the island, especially since the electrical outlet and electricity of your device in general is completely different from the one the island uses. You noted to yourself to one day research a bit more about this ever-confusing island, especially since you’re probably gonna live here for the rest of your life, given eggman’s explanation of the supposed ‘barrier’.

“damn..” Sonic gives you an apologetic look, one you quickly shook your head to and tried to ease his worry. “It'll be fine.” You shrugged. “I didn’t really use it much here anyway…the only thing I’ll miss is my songs..” you look back at the screen, a nostalgic feeling resurfacing within you as you click the play button, a song erupting from your phone’s speakers. It was one of your favorite songs, one that made you feel upbeat and energetic, the beat stuck in your brain like a worm, constantly feeling the need to dance to it. like right now.

You swish from side to side at first, nudging Sonic playfully as he huffs in a mix of annoyance and amusement by your actions, then, you grin playfully at him, taking note of the seemingly grumpy mood the ever-so-usually-ecstatic your companion has. You get up, eyes on him as you swish around, dancing with zero coordinance and swaying with the beat, lip-syncing the song terribly as you hold out a hand to him.

“nope.” He shakes his head, then brings his arms up to rest under his neck, getting into a more relaxed position, wanting the action to urge you to give up on this newfound quest of yours. “I’m fine right here.” he gives a fake relaxed hum, closing his eyes, yet peering open one to see if you’ve given up or not, huffing in amusement when he sees your determined insistence.

“cmonnn speedy,” you reenact the tone he had when he urged you to take a bite of the chili dog. “It's not everyday I get to see the sonic the hedgehog dance!!”

“Oh yeah? Well you won’t see it today either.” Sonic smirked at your grumble, snickering as he adjusted himself on the tree. “I don’t dance, doc. Never have, never will.”

“nonsense,” you still continued to sway around a bit with the beat as you continued. “you look like someone who does fortnite dances.”

His eyes widened, looking at you with shocked giddy. “the hell is that supposed to mean?!” he couldn’;t helo but laugh, never expecting you to be one for jabs.

“you heard me, speedy.” You smirked. “Only the people who are shit at dancing are scared to dance. So tell me, speedster, are you a loser at dancing?” you questioned, a hint of competitiveness in your voice. Sonic froze, giving you a begrudging, respectful nod.

“Touche doc…touche…” he mutters as he gets up, rolling his eyes as you outstretch your hands for him once more, grabbing it and letting you pull him to the sand and sway with him. as your favorite part of the song comes, you jump excitedly, looking at him determined as you terribly lip-sync the part with an imaginary microphone in your hand, knowing fully well that you’re the complete definition of cringe. Sonic looks at you amused, a bit impressed and endeared by your walls crumbling down now, feeling comfortable enough to do such silly things next to him. to show his appreciation, he starts trying to dance silly with you, of course, not before checking to see if anyone was watching. With reassurance that no one was within the beach other than you two idiots, he starts dancing and lip-syncing with you, smiling as he sees you giggle in utter giddy and hold his hand as you twirl around, unabashedly and shamelessly enjoying your time with no fear of the consequence. It’s admirable, really. Sonic noticed that you were one who often feared what people think of you, who often felt uncomfortable by the gaze of others, by the judgement of theirs. It was something completely noticeable on your first days here. and yet, in these two months, you’re finally breaking out of your shell. At least, in front of him. and he feels proud, in fact, he feels honored to be the one who witnesses your first ever splash of shameless silliness and tom-foolery, uncaring of who might see you. you feel comfortable enough to do this now.

You feel comfortable enough to do this with him.

You feel comfortable with him.

It's strange how this very thought makes Sonic feel a sense of pride, some sense of accomplishment and gladness for such a fact. But it’s here, warm and fuzzy, making him jolt with the intense giddiness that you were erupting with and now he’s jumping alongside you, terribly lip-syncing next to you as for a moment, he forgets his cool guy, heroic façade, he forgets his own sarcasm, his responsibilities, his self-image and everything around him. In this moment, all that mattered was that life beside you was fun, that you could make even the dumbest of things somehow excitable. He never cared for dancing, always found it boring and a tad embarrassing. Yet with you, it felt fun. With you, he now understood what dance truly is, why people like it so much. As you hold your hand in his and circle around the place, jump up and down and sway left and right with utterly cringe-worthy and non-professional dance moves, the glue of exhaustion he felt these past few days was washed away with the shores, and he was left with you, dancing till the phone’s battery dies out.

To you, you wouldn’t have spent your last remaining phone batteries any other way. This truly was the perfect way to waste it, the best way to say goodbye to your old world, and welcome the new one. with sonic by your side, dancing with you through it all.

---------

“I’m sorry I didn’t save you sooner.” Sonic heaved out, on the ground beside you. both of you were trying to catch your breath, your phone finally died. You nudge him, which he winces at, giving you an annoyed grumble.

“stop apologizing, dumbass.” You smiled, gazing at him softly. “You don’t need to always be the hero.”

He stays quiet at that, eyes slightly widened, yet contemplative and in deep thought, he looks up at the sky once more, taking a deep breath. “..but I do.”

“hm?”

“I do have to be the hero.” He muttered, hand going up to the sky, as if he was trying to reach the stars. He then opened his palm, looking at his gloves thoughtfully. “I mean…everyone wants me to be the hero. The Gogobas, the townsfolk, eggman, you guys….you all want me to be the hero. To save the day.”

“I don’t.” you replied. “I didn’t expect you to save me.”

“but you wanted to, didn’t you?”

You stay silent at that. A pit of guilt forming in your gut.

“that still doesn’t make it right.” you slowly reach out your own hand, having it be next to his. “ That doesn’t mean you have to be the hero. It just means I’m pathetic and I need to learn how to fight for myself.”

“you’re not pathetic.” Sonic argued, hand mindlessly getting a bit closer to yours. “you’re one of the strongest people I know. and these?” he points to the scars on your arm. The ones who you got from eggman’s lasers. “These are proof of it.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, leaning it a bit closer to his. “..don’t change the subject, Sonic.” You feel him jolt, freeze a bit as you see the crack in his ploy. “you’re sweet…but don’t go changing the subject to me. this is about you.”

He stays silent. Only the voice of crickets and waves could be heard as your hands were held up in the sky, as if you were both touching the stars above. His hand slowly comes to hold yours. “….i meant what I said though.” He gives your hand a squeeze. “you’re the bravest girl I know.”

“I saw Sticks once fight a bear.”

“Sticks is crazy, not brave.” He quipped, and you couldn’t help but laugh, turning around and letting both of your hands fall to the ground, still entwined as you lock eyes with him. your amused smile turns into a thoughtful one, tilting your head and peering at him concerned. “….I stand by what I said.” You mumble. “…you don’t need to be a hero. If not to them, then to me. you don’t need to be a hero with me. I don’t want a hero. I want Sonic.”

His eyes widened, breath hitching as he looked at you dumbfounded, one that was laced with admiration. You give his hand a squeeze, then turn around to look at the sky, heart filled with determination. “and I’m not just saying that. I’ll prove it to you, speedy.” You hummed. “I’ll show you that you don’t need to hold responsibility over my safety, you don’t need to feel pressured by me. ever.”

“that’s not—“

“I know, it’s not.” You quickly cut him off. “But you deserve better. And I want to give you something better.”

He stays quiet, gaze never tearing away from you as you stare at the stars, planning and preparing for your goal. He wondered, what was going on in that overthinking head of yours? Is your mind ever tired of thinking? Or is this just normal for smart people like you?

Whatever it was, it made Sonic feel a sense of calm wash over him. a chuckle leaves him, looking back up to the sky, hands still entwined with yours.

“….I’m glad you’re here, doc.”

------A/N-------

*barges into the room all bloody and panting, eyes dead shot and bags under them, twitching like crazy, body shaking maddeningly as she slams some crumbled paper onto the table, then grabs you by the shoulders and looks you dead in the eyes* IM ALIVE. I LIVED. I SURVIVED. IM HEREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE *explodes*

Hi , hello, bonjour, salam, I’m alive, barely. No I did not have a good few years. Nope this break was absolutely not intentional. Yes I missed you all. yes OF COURSE this fic is gonna be continued. No I don’t know when the next chapter will be, ok? Ok.

Ok, so now for the long explanation.

Hello folks! A lot has happened these past few years, and I deeply and sincerely apologize for the late update. I honestly can’t even believe I finally finished this chapter…it feels surreal. This chapter has been in production for like.. three years??? And there are multiple reasons for it.

1-     I’ve been going through a lot lately.like, A LOT. As most of you know, most of y/n’s traumatic experiences root from my own experience, and since I’m a minor, I’m still living in the dysfunctional house I’ve been inspired to write about. Not only that, I began the horrific experience of socializing with fellow peers at the incredibly late age of 15, and now, two years later, I am beginning to remember why I never wanted to socialize in the first place. Senseless drama, non-communicative relationships, and lots and lots of bullying. Now, you may be asking, why was I bullied, well, this leads to

2-      Reason no.2. I have been officially diagnosed with ADHD, depression and Anxiety. Honestly, I’ve known this fact about me for a very, very long time. I noticed how most of my ‘irregular’ actions that my family sees as ‘regular’ are ones that my own father and dad’s side of the family all have, and therefore whenever I tried to explain my mental health issues or basic life issues like not being able to focus well or study like a normal person does, my parents would always undermine it and say I’m merely overreacting. However, after years of fighting, I was finally able to get myself a therapist, and she was so utterly horrified by my test results and conditions that she immediately told my parents to have me checked and medicated lmaooooo. So yeah, after some testing, they found out I wasn’t bluffing. I got all the big three’s from my dad. Adhd, depression and anxiety. This journey of mine caused a lot of mental anguish, because I realize why I always felt so out of place and different from my fellow peers, and I now fully understood why my classmates have been bullying me. it was because I was the ‘weird kid’ of my class. I was the one who often talked to herself, who when overwhelmed with emotions goes around the room walking and muttering to herself (though in front of them, this only happened once. But i'm very certain they saw this as a way of me wanting to get attention or smth and the bad vibes have started since then) I was the weird girl who could speak english way better than her own mother tongue, so she’s definitely just doing it for attention, right? when in reality, I was NOT doing it for attention. I genuinely had a problem with my country's main language, and all my friends and family knew this. but they thought that this was just a way to gain ‘attention’ because in my country, mastering the english language is a very admirable trait. So yeah, my neurodivergency has caused me to go through a lot of mental abuse and sometimes even physical from both my school and my own home. This made me be in a horrible headspace, and for a very long while I stopped writing all together. I couldn’t write a single thing.

3-     I have a terrible, TERRIBLE perfectionist mindset. I often look at something I wrote two weeks ago and cringe. It's usually worse when I notice that the thing I wrote didn’t get much attention. For example, I wanted to write a complete slugterra fic, but since the first chapter didn’t get much attention (and frankly, writing was, it was shit.) I felt anxious and put myself through a lot of pressure into making sure my writing doesn’t falter. This led me into ignoring stranded, because I feared that if I started writing, ill regret what I wrote again and completely rewrite it. this happened a lot of times. Over 10k words have been lost at sea now with all the goddamn rewrites i've done. Not to mention, I somehow got possessed by some writing spirit and wrote over 30k words oneshot for one unpopular character. Obviously, it didn’t get as much attention as I was hoping for (though I did receive incredibly lovely comments) and once again, I felt like shit lmao. I kept thinking that perhaps I am just a god awful writer, that maybe I’m just some cringey loser who's shit at writing and should just never write again. just dumb negative thoughts like that. I’ve began to become incredibly and deeply insecure over my writing, and added with my perfectionist mindset, it just ruined everything.

4-     Life. i've just been so busy with life man. im literally gonna take an exam tomorrow and I didn’t study shit for it LMAO. I'm in my last year of highschool rn, and when I started this fic, I was at..like the start of highschool. So yeah, these past three years I’ve been through hell. Especially since I’m in an art school. It’s been dreadful. I’ve lost all my passion for art as a whole and felt incompetent at drawing and sketching, which are the main basis of getting good at art. There’s also been an abundant amount of pressure on me about my future, since I NEED to get good at art, but I no matter how hard I practiced, I kept coming back empty handed. I felt so useless. I felt like a complete loser. And my teachers and classmates were NOT helping lmao. But now, thankfully, I think im beginning to see some improvement in it. if you guys have any tips, I’d be incredibly grateful.

Ummm anyway if you want more chapters PLEASE COMMENT!! RAMBLE!!!! TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS ON THE CHAPTER!!! I want to personally thank all the dear lovely readers who've been commenting for me to give out an update to this fic. Though yeah some authors think its annoying, I ACTUALLY FIND IT VERY ENDEARING!!!! SO DO THAT!!!! RAHH!!! I love knowing that someone wants to hear more of my silly stories, so thank you so much to all the folks who kept up with me and thank you all SO SO SO MUCH for being patient with me!!! I hope you liked this chapter!!! I promise we’ll have MUCH more sonic interactions in the future. We’re finally digging into the cusps of act 1. Miueheheheehhe I CANNOT wait to write it. THANK YOU ALL FOR READING!! I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT!!!! BYE!!! OH ALSO IM SO SO SORRY IF THIS CHAPTER SEEMED DRY IT HAD TO BE A LORE-DUMP SO I CAN EASILY WRITE MORE SONIC STUFF IN THE FUTURE. THIS IS A SLOWBURN CHAT IM SORRY LMAOO LRMKLFELKMGRW

[prodbyton]

જ⁀➴ dirty little secret chapter 5: i don’t bite

half smau, half written wc. idk sorry😭 warnings: smut!!! +18 mdni!! smut can be read on its own but if you want to read the rest of the story here’s the mlist! id still recommend reading the whole story bc yes 🙂‍↕️

tomorrow comes around a lot faster than you expected. you dont know why, but you’re almost nervous.

you dont know what it is about anton, but he was different than other guys you pursued. you were never the type to chase, never the type to be so bold and be the one to call the shots. something about anton being so shy in your presence excited you, and you knew you could use that to your advantage since he was already wrapped around your finger after only talking to you once.

so you dont understand why you’re hesitant to knock on the door to his apartment.

you stare at the door, thinking of all the possible outcomes of what will happen once you step foot into his space.

you’re here to study, you tell yourself, but you know that you can’t focus on that when you’re too focused on your attraction to the boy. he obviously is into you, but you don’t know if he’s into you enough to do the things that you were thinking about. what if he does just want to study, and you make him uncomfortable by trying to make a move on him? what if giselle was right about him being a virgin, not that it would be an issue but you don’t want this to be his first time. or even worse, what if he’s not good in bed?

just worry about studying, thats the most important thing here. you continue to tell yourself, still staring at his door.

right as you lift your arm to finally knock, the door swings open and reveals the tall boy you were here to see. he looks at you and smiles softly, and you smile back before taking in his appearance. he looks good, and he seems a little less nervous than he seemed the day before.

you thank yourself for not dressing up too much for today, seeing that he was in a loose tshirt and some shorts. you wore something nice but casual, a low cut shirt and a pair of leggings. easy to take off, just in case. right when you were done looking anton up & down, his eyes quickly darted back up to your face and your smile grows wider when you realize he was probably looking down your shirt when you weren’t looking.

“sorry if i startled you,”

“its okay, i was just about to knock”

anton moves to the side so you can come in, and your eyes scan the room as you take off your shoes. it was pretty clean for an apartment with college student boys, and you wonder if it always looks this clean or if anton cleaned up for you. and you smile trying to imagine anton frantically cleaning around the house knowing that you could be over any minute.

you let anton lead the way to his living room, where he already has some papers spread across the coffee table along with his laptop. you admire his efforts into making sure that you were comfortable in his space, since he also had various snacks and drinks on the table along with a few blankets and pillows on the floor.

“i don’t know what kind of snacks or drinks you like, so i just bought a bunch of stuff” he lied, he asked seunghan this morning what stuff you like. you stare at the various snacks, smiling when you realize it was filled with snacks you actually like. not like you would’ve declined anything he offered, you’re sure he had good taste. maybe you both just have the same favorites.

“did you wanna study physics again or another subject?” you set your bag on the couch, sitting down on the floor on top of the blankets anton had laid out, and pulling out your laptop once anton sat on the ground next to you.

“you’re really smart, anton” you nudge his arm, and he shyly looks away from you at your praise.

“thanks,” antons voice was so soft, and you hoped that you could break that nervous shell off of him soon. you could tell he wanted to talk more, but it was like he was holding himself back.

“im kinda bored of studying now, can we take a break?”

“yeah, of course"

anton is surprisingly easy to talk to, and you wish that he wasn't so shy because you could have realized how much you two had in common. you stare at his face while he talks, going back to make eye contact with him every few words so he knew you were still listening. you look at his lips, liking the way they curve into a smile while he speaks and the way his lips purse out when he says certain words. you stare a little harder at his lips, and anton notices, and he tries to ignore it but he's starting to forget what he was talking about. you only look back at his face when you hear him stumbling over his words and stops talking.

"why'd you stop talking?"

"sorry," anton gulps, his ears turning red as he tries to come up with a reason, but he couldn't lie to you when you were still staring at him like that. "you were staring"

"you're so cute. do i really make you that nervous?"

"y-yeah"

"can i tell you something?" your words were just above a whisper, and anton nods nervously when he sees you looking at his lips again. "i really want to kiss you right now"

and with that anton was leaning in, pressing his lips onto yours without any further question. you were taken aback by his sudden action, not expecting him to be so bold all of a sudden with you. you couldn't complain though, his lips felt so soft and perfect against yours. you kiss him back faster than you could process the situation, holding on to the back of his neck to kiss him harder. his hands that were nervously playing in his lap move so he could grab your waist, pulling your body closer to his.

anton shifts his body so he could face you better, his other hand that wasn't on your waist rests on the ground to stabilize himself as he kisses you. you pull away for a brief second to take a breath, quickly going back to kissing anton and sliding your tongue against his bottom lip.

it takes a moment for him to get the hint, and you have to bite his lip softly in order for him to open his mouth so you could slide your tongue inside.

anton feels like fireworks are going off in his mind. you were kissing him right now. he couldn't believe it. and you're the one who wanted to kiss him, whatever anton did in his past life he thanks himself internally, because he would never believe that he could ever be in this situation.

you two groan into each others mouths, tongues clashing against each others and spit is dribbling down both of your chins. when you two finally pull away, anton is almost as red as a tomato. you were breathing hard, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you took in antons appearance. he looked so attractive like this, lips swollen and parted, a little shiny from a mix of spit and your lip gloss. he was so kissable. you wanted to kiss him again, and again, and again.

so you do. you kiss the breath out of him over and over, you somehow end up in his lap, kissing him even more. you kiss down his face, down his neck, you even bite him a little bit just to hear his breath hitch. antons hands still lay on your waist, gripping onto the skin a little harder whenever you lick or bite a sensitive part of his neck. you were in your own world, and you only realize how much this is effecting anton when he tries (and fails) at subtly pushing you down onto his clothed crotch and you can feel his boner pressing against your core. you remove your lips from him and sit up, staring at his flushed face then down to where your bodies met.

"you're hard" you say it bluntly, still staring at the bulge in his pants from what you can see from the angle you were sitting in.

"you're really pretty" anton talks in the same tone you spoke in, no point in being shameful when you both clearly wanted each other. it was your time to be shy, you knew anton liked you to some degree, but hearing him compliment you as well as getting this hard from just kissing you has you flustered. you feel your core throb the longer you stare, and your mouth feels empty without antons lips on yours.

you run your fingers through antons hair, smiling at the sight of his eyes shutting at the feeling of your nails slightly scratching his scalp. you give his hair a small tug, and before anton can even react your tugging him again so your lips could connect again.

this kiss was somehow even more desperate, teeth clashing and tongues colling more than lips locking. it was messy, but it only made you feel hotter. you experimentally grind your hips down on anton and he groans, holding your hips harder as you make the same movement again. you let out a small whimper when you move just right enough to feel the pressure on your clit, repeating the same movement until you find a steady rhythm.

anton looked an absolute wreck when you pulled your lips off of him. he threw his head back against the couch, eyes barely open as he watched you grind against him. he looked like he was 3 seconds away from cumming in his pants, and you honestly wanted him to. so you move a bit faster, and you lean down to re attach your lips to his neck.

the moans that leave the both of you fill up the living room, and you forget that anton has roomates that could possibly walk in at any given moment. anton seems to forget too, because he's slipping his hands under your shirt and trailing them up to cup your breasts over your bra. antons boldness has you pressing harder against him, moaning against the skin of his neck which makes him shudder.

"wait- im gonna cum-" anton warns, hands that fondle your boobs under your shirt grabbing onto you tighter as he feels his orgasm build up embarrassingly fast. he hopes that you stop moving, but you keep going, and when he feels you smirk against his skin he knows that it was fine.

without any warning anton was moving his hands back to your waist, holding you down as he thrusted against you while his orgasm hit. he was silent, only a string of small whimpers leaving his mouth as he kept you moving while he rode out his high.

watching him cum in his pants was truly a sight, and you felt yourself growing wetter as you watched. he was almost trembling, and it made you clench around nothing before you started to move your hips again. anton was still sensitive and he whine at the feeling of you still grinding down on him, weakly attempting to push your hips off of him.

you quickly move yourself so you were sitting on his thigh, desperately moving against the thick muscle while you chased your own orgasm

"are you close?" you can only nod your head as you move faster, your clit rubbing against antons thigh so deliciously you knew it wouldn't take much more for you to reach your peak.

"kiss me, please-" anton had his lips on you as fast as possible, kissing away the pout you had on your lips. you moan softly when you feel his tongue slip into your mouth, and you feel your orgasm hit you hard when he sucks on your tongue.

you shake on top of anton, body going limp as you feel the aftershocks of your orgasm. you both stay quiet for a moment while you try to get your breathing back to normal, and anton shifts slightly, the feeling of sitting in his cum stained underwear starting to set in and feel uncomfortable.

"im gonna change my pants- ill bring you a pair too" he was so considerate, feeling that you were probably just as uncomfortable in your soaked through underwear. anton helps you move off his thigh, and helps you stand up as well before he's telling you he'll be right back. you sit on the couch while you wait for him, checking your phone while you wait and seeing that your brother texted you a few minutes ago about your whereabouts. you roll your eyes, not wanting to leave antons right after you both just came in your pants, but not wanting to have to deal with your brother nagging you about how late its getting.

"here, you can change in my room" anton turns the corner and hands you a pair of his sweats, and you take them and follow him back down the hall to where his room was. he closes the door and waits outside for you, and you take your time taking off your leggings and your underwear that was uncomfortable and sticky, slipping his pants on and making tying the strings to make sure they don't fall down. you also take in antons bedroom as quick as possible so it doesn't seem like you were snooping.

the boy is smiling at you like a dork when you open the door, and you smile too before his smile drops at the words that leave your mouth.

"my brothers blowing up my phone, so i have to go, but um, today was nice" his heart thumps in his chest, and he swallows in hopes that the feeling subsides and he hopes that it was only loud in his head and that you couldn't hear his heartbeat from where you were standing.

"yeah, it was. i can walk you to your car, its getting kinda dark." anton helps you collect your things, and you two silently make your way down to where you parked.

the walk from antons apartment to your car was awkward, and you wish that it wasn't. you didn't really know what to say, or what to do in this situation. usually guys you hook up with don't go out of their way to give you some of their clothes, or walk you back to your car, or have good conversation with you. but anton was different, and you felt it the moment you decided to give him attention, because you really don't want to go home, and you really don't want this to be the last time you two fool around.

anton stays outside until your car pulls off and until he cant see you anymore before he starts his walk back to his apartment, and he can't stop the wave of thoughts that run through his mind now.

he's praying internally that you really do text him, and that you enjoyed today as much as he did, and that him cumming in his pants didn't throw you off and that you'd never want to speak to him again. he hopes you text him and that you want to see him again.

all of his internal prayers seem to come true faster than he thought when he enters his room and sees your soaked through panties on his bed.

m.list | prev | next

a/n: sorry for posting this so late !! anyways hope you guys like it hehe haha

synopsis: living with your older brother had its perks, including easy access to his hot best friend

taglist is closed !!

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[azzifuddslover]

UNRAVEL — chapter one

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

trope: best friends to lovers

tw: light swearing, think that’s all

themes: fluff

word count: 4.1k

a/n: my second series YAY! i absolutely adore reading best friends to lovers, it’s honestly my favorite trope, so i figured i’d make one of my own. i love this so far lowkey, they’re my literal babies 😭 also merry christmas to those who celebrate! please lemme know how u like it, and if i should continue. enjoy my pookies 𝜗𝜚

the gym echoes with the sound of squeaky sneakers and the rhythmic bounce of basketballs. it was the first day of USA basketball tryouts, and azzi felt a rush of excitement and anxiety as she stands silently in the corner, watching other girls around her age begin to fill in the open room. some began to practice shooting to pass time. at 14, she was nervous yet determined to make the team.

once all the young girls make their way into the gym, azzi scans the room, curious to know if she recognizes anyone. when she comes up with no familiar faces, she begins fiddling with her own fingers, her nerves becoming more evident. she absolutely hates doing new things alone, especially something as scary as this.

“let’s go ladies! time to get warmed up!” the coach announces his presence, a clipboard in his hands.

azzi, along with the other girls, form a line, starting to stretch out their limbs. her eyes dance over her future teammates, but when she makes swift eye contact a tall blonde unintentionally, she tears her eyes away, focusing on the ground instead.

warm ups quickly end; the girls break into teams of five, bustling with energy. azzi stands a little off to the side, watching everyone find their friends and form tight-knit circles. she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, feeling the familiar pang of anxiety in her stomach. she feels out of place, unsure if she really belongs here.

just as she contemplates stepping away, she notices the blonde she made eye contact with earlier lingering nearby, alone, like herself. the blue eyed blonde takes a steady, deep breath before wryly approaching the curly headed brunette.

her expression is friendly but obviously hesitant, maybe slightly shy as well. “hey, um.. do you have a group?”

azzi’s heart races in her chest, heat covering her cheeks as embarrassment sets in. “no, not yet. do you?”

the blonde’s face lights up just a tad, although her nerves are still apparent. “not yet. i was wondering if.. you wanna be in mine? not that i have one, but we can find one together..?”

azzi feels a rush of relief as any lingering nerves in her stomach instantly settle. “i’d love that.”

“great! i’m paige, by the way,” the blonde, paige, says, a wide smile appearing on her face.

“azzi,” the brunette replies, matching paige’s grin with one of her own.

as they walk together, navigating their way through the crowd of girls, paige steals glances at azzi’s frame, a mix admiration and awe in her eyes. she’s possibly one of the most beautiful girls she’s ever laid eyes on.

“i’m so nervous,” azzi whispers, a soft, stressed smile tugging at her lips.

paige chuckles lightly, “same here. it’s hard not to feel a bit overwhelmed with all of these girls who seem to know each other already.”

“right?” azzi replies, her gaze drifting to the formed teams, “i just wanna make a good impression.”

paige turns to azzi, “you totally will!” she reassures her, nudging her gently. “you just gotta remember we’re all trying to figure this out together. everyone’s nervous,” she wears a soft grin. “i’m sure you’ll be just fine— i saw your warm ups, you got some serious skills.”

a noticeable blush covers azzi’s cheeks at paige’s kind words. “thank you, that means a lot.”

paige’s lips tug into a wider smirk at azzi’s red face. shortly after, the pair finds a spot in a group with only three players, finally forming a group of five. the other girls greet paige and azzi warmly.

“alright, let’s get this started!” the head coach shouts, shutting down any side conversations the players were having. “we’ll start we 5v5s, then finish with a scrimmage.”

as each player in their small team break into their desired positions, paige throws yet another quick glance at the brunette she’s quickly growing fond of. she already feels a connection between them— like they’re meant to be friends.

only a couple minutes into the 5v5, azzi becomes highly aware of the kind of player paige is. a selfless passer, always willing to give up the ball to an open teammate in the corner, now including herself. but it’s not just her passing that sticks out to azzi— no, it’s the effortless shots she doesn’t hesitate to take that almost always goes in. it doesn’t matter where she’s positioned— whether it be the 3 point line, midrange, or a simple layup, it always swishes through the net.

as azzi digests paige’s skill set, paige takes in the curly headed brunette’s at the same time, in a similar state of awe. her 3 point shooting ability was undeniably impressive; she swears she never seems to miss. everytime she’d pass the ball to an open azzi in the corner, she had full confidence it’d go in, she didn’t even bother to look. she was that good.

the short 5v5 match comes to a close, leaving azzi feeling more herself, more comfortable and confident in her abilities. paige feels good about her performance, too, but more so in azzi’s.

“holy shit, you were so good out there!” paige exclaims once they’re allowed a short break for water.

azzi lets out an airy laugh, clearly out of breath from the previous 5v5. “thank you, so were you.”

paige shakes her head, her eyes sparkling with admiration. “i mean it, i’ve never seen anyone hit so many threes in a row. what was it, like six?”

azzi feels a sudden rush of pride at paige’s words. “more like five, but i get what you’re saying. thanks again.” azzi takes a swig from her water bottle, “it really helps when i have someone like you passing me the ball.”

the corners of paige’s lips quirk up as an unrecognizable feeling travels throughout her chest. “i guess we make a pretty good team.”

azzi tries to hide her smile, but ultimately fails. “i guess so.”

paige glances at the ground, fidgeting with the water bottle in her hands. “i was so nervous to come here, genuinely. i try to appear as confident as possible, but on the inside i’m an anxious wreck.”

azzi smiles in a reassuring manner as she suddenly reaches out, gently patting paige’s arm to somewhat comfort the girl in front of her. “i understand. i was nervous too, until you talked to me, that is.”

paige beams at azzi’s comment. “really?” when the brunette nods, she continues, “i’m glad i approached you then. it’s nice to know i’m not the only one feeling this way.”

azzi feels the connection between the two of them deepen as they share a vulnerable moment. “i think we all put on a brave, tough act, but it’s always nice to find someone who gets it.”

“exactly!” paige says, her excitement bubbling over. “i’m so glad we’re on the same team. you’ve made this whole experience way more enjoyable.”

azzi’s cheeks grow warm at the sincerity of the blonde’s choice of words. “me too. i don’t think i could’ve done this without you.”

now it was paige’s turn to blush— way more pigmented than azzi’s, that is. paige turns her gaze away from the curly brunette’s, desperately trying to hide her inflamed cheeks.

the two girls continue to chat, discussing their high school teams and other random interests outside of basketball. paige already knows, with time, azzi has the potential to become the best friend she’s never had.

paige and azzi’s conversation quickly fades away once the head coach orders them to break into two large groups, in preparation for the scrimmage. paige doesn’t hesitate to stay rooted besides azzi, keeping their distance close to indicate they’re on a team together.

the players surrounding them occasionally brush into the pair, separating them more and more. it isn’t until azzi rushes over to the older girl, gently gripping her forearm, mere inches away from her hand, that they get placed into a team together. paige feels instant sparks scramble within her chest at azzi’s touch— she’s brave enough to move her hand, grabbing azzi’s hand with her own, yet not interlacing their fingers— just letting her know she’s here.

the coach blows the whistle, signaling for everyone to get settled. as the two teams are finalized, paige and azzi find themselves on the same side, as expected but still, relief washing over the two girls.

the coach picks a starting five from the opposing team first, choosing the obvious top players with the highest skill sets out of everyone there. the coach then makes his way to paige and azzi’s team, scanning the girls one by one.

“aliyah, cameron, azzi, paige, caitlin,” he voices before turning around, casually walking to the side.

paige turns her head to look at azzi, who seems equally as shocked, but pleased with his picks. anxiety floods the brunette’s features— out of everyone on the team, he chooses her? she couldn’t believe it.

“we got this,” paige nods at azzi, reassuring the younger girl, “you got this.”

azzi hesitates, but shares the nod, trying to mask her nervousness with a quiet pride expression.

once the scrimmage starts up, the atmosphere shifts. the gym fills with the sound of sneakers squeaking on the hardwood floor, and the shouts of encouragement from teammates. paige feels a rush of adrenaline, her confidence bolstered by azzi’s presence.

throughout the game, they fall into a rhythm, passing the basketball back and forth with ease. azzi’s sharp shooting is as impressive as ever, landing each 3 pointer with precision, while paige’s passes are spot on, giving azzi the chance to shine. they communicate seamlessly, each play reflecting their undeniable chemistry.

as the scrimmage progresses, the score tightens, and both of the two teams push harder. paige spots azzi’s competitive spirit ignite, only fueling her own drive. with every successful shot and assist, they exchange swift glances filled with passion and excitement.

eventually, the whistle blows, indicating the end of the scrimmage. both teams gather for a quick huddle, breathing heavily but exhilarated.

“nice work everyone!” the head coach praises, “you all showed fantastic teamwork out there.”

paige turns her body to azzi, her heart racing, not just from the game, but also from the connection they’ve built in such a short period of time. “damn, we really do work good together.”

“i know, right?” azzi smiles, exposing her dimples on each one of her cheeks.

the girls begin packing up their bags, stuffing their now empty water bottles in the pockets. paige’s gaze shifts to the brunette’s, then back at her bag, then once again, back to azzi.

azzi quickly notices paige’s wandering eyes, “everything okay?”

paige’s eyes widen, embarrassed of her previous actions. “yeah, sorry. i was wondering if i could get your number, though? just so we can keep in touch throughout the tryouts, y’know.”

azzi swears her heart skips a beat at the request, a gentle smile spreading across her face. “is this your way of asking me out on a date?”

paige is taken aback at azzi’s comment, her cheeks becoming noticeably red. “what— no, that’s not—“

azzi nudges her shoulder, letting out a laugh at her reaction. “i’m only kidding, paige. of course i’ll give it to you. i’d love that.”

paige shuts her eyes, embarrassment still lingering, yet she pulls out her phone. azzi masks the older girl’s movement, taking her own phone out as well.

azzi hands paige her phone, to which she punches in the brunette’s number, labeling her in her personal contact list. as she hands the phone back, their fingers brush, the moment growing electric.

the two throw their own bags over their shoulders, barely making any movements to leave quite yet. azzi feels a ding come from her phone— it’s a text message from her mother, katie, letting her know they might be a couple minutes late to pick her up.

azzi lets out a groan, loud enough for the blonde beside her to hear. paige glances at azzi, curious as to what’s got her frustrated.

“what? everything good?” paige asks.

azzi meets her gaze, “my parents are gonna be late. i have nothing to do besides sit here for like, 20 minutes.”

paige scrunches her eyebrows, feeling slightly bad for the brunette. an idea forms in paige’s head, not bothering to think about her own mother waiting outside to pick her up.

paige suddenly reaches for azzi’s hand, interlocking their fingers and tugging her towards the gym door.

“um, where are you taking me?”

a grin tugs at paige’s lips, excitement glistening in her bright blue eyes. “just trust me, will you?”

“not like i just met you,” azzi mutters, although its laced with sarcasm. surprisedly, azzi’s trust for paige grows every minute she’s with her.

walking out the door, into the chilly weather with a slight breeze, paige’s grip on azzi’s hand remains tight and secure. she spots her mother’s car, noticing a confused expression on her face— she holds up her finger, telling her one minute, although she has no intentions of leaving azzi alone until her parents arrive.

she leads the younger girl into a nearby smoothie shop, dropping into an open table, hinting for azzi to take the spot in front of her.

as the two girls settle in their chairs, directly facing each other, the hum of the smoothie shop surrounds them, blending with the chatter of other customers. azzi glances around, intrigued at the colorful menu board. “okay, i’m curious. why’d you take me here?”

paige leans back, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “i just discovered this place the other day, their smoothies are so good. and plus i figured i’d wait with you until your parents get here.”

a faint blush covers the brunette’s cheeks, which she quickly hides with her hands. “thanks, that’s really sweet of you.”

“anytime,” paige beams. “do you want anything? i know i do.”

“oh, i don’t have any money with me,” azzi shrugs.

paige’s lips form a line, “no worries, it’s on me. now, what do you want?”

azzi’s face breaks out into a huge grin, exposing her dimples once again. the blonde masks her expression, wearing a grin of her own at the sight of azzi’s cute dimples. as she scans the menu, paige takes the time to really look at azzi. god, she’s unreal. her soft, brown curls pulled into a bun, brown, wandering eyes paired with long lashes, deep dimples paige already adores. her heart races at her beauty.

“i’ll take the pineapple one,” azzi announces, “thank you, paige. really,” she adds, gratefully.

paige simply nods, then walks up to the counter to order their smoothies. only a minute later, she brings them back to the table, setting azzi’s pineapple one in front of her.

azzi takes a long sip, followed by another when she realizes she really enjoys the taste. paige does the same with her own strawberry banana, downing half the drink.

“you’re right, they are really good,” azzi agrees as she shallows.

“told you so,” paige says, taking another fast swig.

the girls silently sit there, making no effort to converse. “so, do you think you’ll make the team?” azzi questions the older girl, eventually breaking the comfort silence.

paige shrugs, “i mean, i think i have a good chance. you’ll definitely make it, though.”

azzi’s heart quickens in her chest, beating at an erratic pace. “you’ll make it. do you have any idea how good you are?”

paige bites back a grin, avoiding eye contact with the younger girl. “stop gettin’ soft on me.”

azzi rolls her eyes at the blondes comment, “i mean it, though. i’ve never seen anyone with the ability to pass as perfect as you.”

pink floods paige’s cheeks, warmth spreading throughout her body. “look in the mirror, azzi. your form is literally textbook perfect.”

azzi chuckles, a mix of embarrassment and pride flooding her. “thanks. that means a lot coming from you.”

paige nods before taking another sip of her fruity smoothie. “so, what do you do outside of basketball?”

the two girls fall into a flowing conversation, discussing anything but basketball— getting to know each other better. they share laughs and wide grins as the conversation develops.

paige feels weird— she cannot understand how quickly azzi and her have bonded over such a short period of time. she feels like she’s known her forever.

azzi’s phone vibrates mid laugh; it’s a text from her mom, saying she’s here.

“my moms here,” azzi says, gaze lingering on paige’s figure. a wave of sadness floods her features— she’s sort of wishing she could stay here longer, with paige.

“oh, alright,” paige nods, sharing a similar disappointment. she stands with azzi, pulls on her backpack, and moves for the door.

the wind has pickin’ up, causing goosebumps to form on both young girls arms.

“see you tomorrow?”

“duh,” azzi replies, an effortless smirk appearing on her face. she waves paige goodbye, before heading around the corner to where her mom is parked, waiting for her.

paige watches azzi leave, the lingering flash of sadness noticeable on her face. she begins walking over to her mom, her steps slow but steady.

she greets her mother with a quick smile, setting down her backpack.

“who was that?” her mom questions, her tone light.

“a girl i met at tryouts,” she doesn’t bother to hide her beam, “she’s so cool, i swear. she’s so good at basketball, too. i’ve never seen anyone hit so many threes.”

paige rants on and on about azzi, talking about her impressive basketball skills and about how they clicked so instantly.

paige eyes her mom’s knowing smile, to which she scrunches her eyebrows down. “what?”

“you really like her, don’t you?”

paige’s eyes widen at the comment, “i mean, yeah, she’s my friend. but if you mean like that, then no.”

paige’s mother, amy, pulls her lips into a line, clearly not believing her daughter, although she doesn’t push.

the entire car ride home, paige has yet to stop thinking about azzi. her excitement about seeing her tomorrow basically buzzes off her, it’s that strong. she contemplates texting the brunette, but shuts that thought down immediately, considering it’s only been ten minutes.

back at paige’s house, in her room, she lays silently on her comfortable bed, scrolling mindlessly on her phone. azzi continues to linger within her mind— she eventually decides to text her, in hopes to settle the obsessive thoughts.

hey azzi, she types and sends quickly, without the chance to overthink her words.

a minute passes with no response— paige bites at her nails, an anxious habit of hers. her phone buzzes with a text message from, of course, azzi.

hi paige!! azzi’s text reads. paige’s lips tug into a small smile.

what are u up to?

only seconds later, azzi responds. not much, u?

same. wanna ft? paige works up the courage to ask, looking away from her phone out of fear.

three minutes pass with no answer from the brunette. just as thoughts like what if i did something wrong develop in paige’s mind, an incoming facetime call from azzi covers her screen.

the first thing paige sees is azzi, messy curls framing her face, laying in bed, looking directly into the camera.

“hey,” azzi smiles into her phone at the blonde.

“hi,” paige answers, mimicking her expression.

the two girls settle into a steady conversation, each smiling shyly at one another throughout. paige can’t help but admire azzi’s nature beauty, the way her curls fall effortlessly around her face.

“it’s so weird, i feel like i’ve known you forever,” paige announces in the middle of a collective laugh.

azzi falls silence, but her grin stays put on her face. “me too— i’ve never met anyone like you.”

heat, yet again, covers paige’s face, her heart speeding up at azzi’s soft words. “really? i feel the same way.”

azzi’s eyes sparkle with warmth. “yes, really. i mean it, too. you’re just so… genuine. i love that about you.”

paige bites her lip, both flattered and a little shy. “thanks, azzi. i appreciate that.”

they exchange more laughter, sharing stories and favorite moments about the tryouts. as the conversation flows, paige feels a growing sense of comfort, like she can be completely, undeniably herself around azzi. she hasn’t felt that way in a long time— if ever.

paige and azzi’s facetime lasts for hours on end, filled with continuous chuckles and getting to know one another. katie, azzi’s mom, eventually barges into her dark room, suggesting she heads off to bed, considering another day of tryouts is approaching.

“talk to you tomorrow,” azzi says to paige through her phone.

“talk tomorrow!” paige squeals, her excitement for the next day peaking through. she shuts off her phone after ending the facetime, her room fills with darkness and complete silent at azzi’s absence.

she lets out a quiet sigh, already missing talking with azzi, although it was only moments prior. she cannot help but feel an extreme pull towards the curly brunette— like they’re meant to meet, meant to be best friends.

throughout the night, into the next morning, paige desperately tries to ignore the warm feelings that bubble up just thinking about azzi. she distracts herself with homework, scrolling on her phone, yet nothing seems to quiet said feelings.

as the sun rises, filling her room with soft light, paige can’t shake the thought swirling in her mind. do i have a crush on azzi? she remembers back to azzi’s dimply smile, the way her laughter lit up her phone screen, how easy it is to talk to her.

before she spends another minute questioning her feelings, she forces them out of her mind, trying to focus her attention on the next day of tryouts instead.

the day both paige and azzi dreaded was finally here. the championship— the game the USA basketball team worked so desperately hard to reach. regardless of their excitement to win, the two girls couldn’t fathom leaving one another for god knows how long.

paige and azzi, over the last couple of months, have grown inseparable. the pair would spend every minute their downtime together, barely leaving one another’s side. they share laughter and secrets, bonding over late night talks and all throughout practice. the chemistry between the girls was undeniable, yet neither of them had the courage to question if it was purely friendship, or something more.

as the game approaches, paige feels a swirl of anticipation and anxiety. the team has trained so hard for this moment, yet all she could think about was what it would mean to leave azzi. after the game ends, they would be separated by hundreds of miles— azzi being in virginia and paige living in minnesota.

in the locker room before the championship game, the atmosphere buzzes with enthusiasm and energy. azzi sits down next to paige, a smile plastered on her face. for a moment, the world already them seems to fade.

“you ready for this, p?” azzi asks, her voice steady but with an underlying hint of nerves.

paige takes a deep breath, glancing at the younger girl. “ready as i’ll ever be.” she tries her best at a smile, although her sadness is evident to azzi.

azzi scrunches her eyebrows in concern for paige, “everything okay?”

“yeah, i’m good. i’m just kinda sad to leave you, y’know?”

azzi meets her gaze, her expression softening. “don’t think about that right now. let’s focus on the game first, then deal with that later, okay?”

paige bites her lips, her nerves still swirling in her stomach. she tries her best to ignore those thoughts and nods in agreement.

as soon as the championship game starts, the crowd roars, both girls feeling the weight of their training and dedication bearing down on them. every little play is a testament of their hard work, and as the minutes tick by, they find themselves in sync, communicating effortlessly on the court.

throughout the game, azzi continues to drain threes, one after another, as paige racks up assists unlike anyone else on their team.

with just seconds left on the clock, paige and azzi exchange a quick, soft glance filled with determination but also a hint of admiration for the other. the USA team is up by 30, so paige, as the point guard, dribbles the ball with no effort to move, running the clock. the buzzer goes off as the crowd erupts into cheers.

players belonging to the team rush each other, pulling one another into quick hugs, filled with laughter and pride. as azzi pats the back of aliyah, one of their teammates, in a gentle hug, she catches her favorite blonde’s eye, knowing exactly where she’s headed off to next.

the two girls approach each other, a look of longing flooding their eyes with small smirks planted on their lips. to close their distance, paige reaches out, pulling azzi by her jersey into a fierce hug that encapsulates everything they’ve shared over the past few months. azzi chuckles softly, her arms wrapping tightly around the older girl’s frame as paige nuzzles her face into azzi’s neck, breathing in her scent.

against azzi’s exposed neck, paige murmurs, “you did so well, az.”

azzi doesn’t dare to hide her growing smile, gripping paige’s shirt to keep her close. “thanks, but you were the one who really made it happen,” the brunette replies, her voice warm. “you were amazing out there.”

paige pulls back just enough to meet azzi’s line of sight, her heart swelling with pride at her meaningful compliment. “we really do make a great team.”

“couldn’t of asked for a better teammate,” azzi agrees, her genuine grin brightening even more.

as the celebration around them continues, the reality of their impending separation begins to fully sink in. their teammates cheer and take photos, while dread lingers in the two young girls stomachs for what’s to come.

azzi hasn’t left paige’s side since the championship game ended, practically binded hip to hip. she didn’t want to miss any singular moment with her best friend before they would soon separate.

the two girls were eventually forced to pack their bags, ready to head off to the airport to catch different planes. a mix of sadness and disappointment clouds their minds, not wanting to leave one another. they’ve grow so unexplainably close throughout this entire experience, that the thought of separating was heart-wrenching.

arriving at the airport, paige’s brain is still buzzing with dread at the thought of leaving her best friend behind. as she approaches azzi, her expression in a similar state, she tries her best to keep her tears at bay.

“this feels surreal,” azzi breaks the silence suffocating them, “i don’t wanna leave you.”

paige carefully sits her bag down, rushing over to the brunette she’s grown very fond of. the affectionate, touchy person she is, paige wraps her arms tightly around azzi, holding her close. “i don’t want to leave you, either.”

azzi doesn’t hesitate to hug the older girl back, her attention never wavering from paige. she feels her eyes begin to water, so she drops her head, resting it on paige’s shoulder.

paige’s heart speeds at azzi’s doing, making her want to keep the young girl close forever. eventually, however, their tight embrace comes to an end, yet azzi’s hand lingers on paige’s arm.

“please promise me we’ll stay in touch. preferably, like, everyday,” paige whispers, only loud enough for azzi to hear.

“i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

a slow smile creeps onto paige’s face, yet her melancholy is still apparent. “you’re my best friend, az.”

a lone tear spills out of the corner of azzi’s eye at paige’s words. “and you’re mine,” she tugs the blonde back in for a second hug, already missing her comforting warmth.

with azzi being so close, everything around paige seems to fade away— and before she has time to consider whether this is a good idea, she presses her lips just under azzi’s ear, a soft, fleeting gesture that conveys all the unspoken words spiraling between the two.

azzi’s breath hitches in her throat, although her expression remains light, a mix of surprise and understanding. they stand there, in the airport, for a heartbeat, the weight of their connection hanging in the air. but then the airport intercom crackles to life, calling for the minnesota flight boarding, pulling them back into reality.

“guess i should get going,” paige says, her voice breathless.

azzi nods, “please take care of yourself, paige.”

the older blonde gives azzi’s hand one last squeeze, before letting go, leaving azzi behind.

as they walk towards their respective gates, each step feels heavy with the knowledge that they won’t be seeing each other everyday now. they don’t even know the next time they’ll get a change to hangout. yet, both girls know their bond is strong enough to withstand the distance between them.

[haxkattpress]

Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses

"Harry Potter, returning member of the Oxford University Boat Club, has two goals for the spring of 2005: beat Cambridge, and beat Draco Malfoy. Perhaps not in that order."

This has to be one of the most creative and meticulously researched fics I have ever had the pleasure of reading. If you haven't read it yet, don't walk— run! Citrusses is an absolute genius, and kindly gave me permission to bind her masterpiece.

The cover of this bind is made out four different shades of Allure bookcloth cut by my Cameo 4, and the centerpiece is printed and hand foiled. The banners were machine foiled in gold and black with hand foiled rose gold shading. The endbands were hand sewn with Gutermann silk thread.

You can find more pictures and information about my process under the cut.

The amount of inspiration this fic gave me was overwhelming, and Citrusses' writing fully immersed me in the world of competitive rowing. While designing this bind, I was struck by the sheer wealth of Oxford rowing memorabilia available to me. I settled on this 1929 illustration from an official publication on the Oxford and Cambridge Centenary Boat Race for the cover.

"How hard could it possibly be?" I thought, foolishly. The answer was HARD, but I'll get into that later.

Due to the wealth of design options, I believe that this may be the best typeset I have created to date. Thanks to the help of my friend @tsurashi-bindery, I was able to learn the basics of InDesign (kicking and screaming all the way). There will be spoilers in the text of these photos, so try not to read them if you haven't finished the fic!

For the title page, I modified To See the Crews in Training by Charles Pears (1930). I believe that this was part of a series of advertisements for the race in the London Underground.

For the chapter headers, I redrew the crest from an Oxford Oars, Flags, and Arms postcard, presumably pre 1914. I also had some fun creating a mock email using La_Temperanza's How to Mimic Email Windows on Ao3. Cormac's email makes me laugh every time I read it, and Citrusses provided an appropriately pompous subject.

I also had lots of fun editing the oars from the official OUBC logo to serve as dividers and decorations for the page numbers.

Additionally, I got to edit a full newspaper page for the fic! I was very excited find an opportunity to slip Leyendecker's The Finish (1908) in.

The fic ended beautifully, so I wanted to include one last element at the end to capture the atmosphere. I settled on L'aviron (1932) by Milivoj Uzelac. It makes me feel as though Harry and Draco will continue rowing together long after I've closed the book.

I of course had lots of fun sewing the headbands, and got to do it with not one but TWO copies!

Things got tricky when I had to recreate the cover. I had a poor understanding of how vector images worked, and ended up having to redraw it three times. Once I finally cracked and taught myself how to use Illustrator, the program crashed...and I had to redraw it a fourth time!

I set the vector to cut on my Cameo 4, and I assembled the pieces together like a puzzle on my Silhouette mat. I used Allure's indigo, skylight, white, and black bookcloth in the process. I will be making a tutorial video on this method, so I will keep it brief here.

I also cut a piece of bookcloth to 8.5"x 11" and fed it through my inktank printer to print the center design. I then cut it out using the print and cut feature on my Cameo 4. Both of these methods were a first for me, and they were very scary!!

To be perfectly frank, the foiling was a nightmare and I don't want to get into it. I machine foiled the gold, and then foiled black lettering on top of it. I foiled the rose gold shading by hand, and then foiled a thin black outline along the edge of the banners to make them stand out more.

I hand foiled the spines (because I'm scared of measuring), painted the exposed board (to hide any gaps in the inlays), and used transfer tape to lift my design from the Silhouette mat and onto the cover.

One more fun detail— my copy and the author's copy are sisters! The dark blue and the light blue are inverted on the author's copy, making it distinguishable from mine. This is the first time I have made an author's copy for a fic, and I was admittedly incredibly nervous. I always worry about what authors will think of my work, but Citrusses gave me an incredible amount of encouragement and support throughout the process! Thank you for trusting me with your precious fic!

This story is a work of fanfiction and can be read on Ao3 for free. My bind and typeset are for personal use only and not for sale or profit. Keep fandom free!

[aettuddae]

business matter — chapter 131.

a christmas special.

↳ synopsis: two of the most important kpop companies covet a partnership with a huge global brand, only to be surprised when the deal is extended to both labels. fearing potential sabotage and cynical strategies to secure exclusivity for just one of them, both CEOs resort to desperate measures. in a bid to maintain trust and prevent betrayal before the signing, they come up with a pact: forcing a fake relationship between the leaders of their star girlgroups. if one side attempted to fail the other, they threaten to expose it all to the conservative south korea.

masterlist | prev | next

[written chapter]

december 25, christmas had arrived.

for many ordinary families it was a special holiday spent together, where they ate delicious things and showered each other with attention and gifts, for other ordinary families it was perhaps a day like any other. but if there was one certainty it was that if your job is to be an idol and during the year you released even minimally relevant music, then december 25 was just another workday, and a very exhaustive one at that.

all the groups that played on the radios during the year today were at the sbs stations recording the christmas special. a compilation of pre-recorded performances of the same songs they had sung over and over again the past twelve months, and some special ones among the most relevant celebrities.

karina had arrived earlier than the rest of the members that day as she had a collaboration with other groups to film, and then wandered around the station waiting for her bandmates and her turn to take the stage as a group. every year she would have liked to spend that date with her family, but instead she had to be cooped up for hours in that building surrounded by people she hardly knew who were in her same situation, bored and uncomfortable with her wardrobe, waiting for the time when everyone would come out on stage at the end of the event to greet their fans.

after trying to kill time walking around the venue interacting with her industry friends, making content together, playing games on her phone and anything else interesting she could find, it was finally time to go up to say goodbye and she headed her members excited as it meant she would soon be going home. so quickly she reached to the entrance to the set that aespa ended up among the first in line, ahead of everyone, and while waiting to be signaled to enter, the girl got distracted looking around the room they were in.

she was confronted with many familiar faces, even making eye contact with some and having to greet them, while many others she didn't recognize from anywhere. as she moved her eyes through the crowd, she ended up bumping into a figure she identified.

trying to keep herself entertained and with all the work she had to do, she had forgotten that HeAVEN would also be showing up there.

she met chaeyoung's back and couldn't help but stare as if the girl, who clearly couldn't stand her, was going to feel her attention on her and turn around to greet her. but it wasn't the taller one she wanted, it was the presence of the group that captivated her because it made serim, even though she wasn't there because of her hiatus, feel closer.

ningning followed her gaze back to what had her so transfixed, meeting the people with whom she had already formed a bond of friendship and raised her hand to greet minnie who was the only one standing there facing her side. the older one noticed the movement on the girl's part and when she realized it was yizhuo, she returned the greeting cheerfully, tapping yves' shoulder, giving her a strange look and causing her to wave back too, though more shyly. yujin and chaeyoung joined in last as they saw their companions, turning to see who they had met to also say hello. out of nowhere, chaeyoung, just looking at ningning, pointed to the side, telling her to look, and both she and jimin, who was witnessing the entire interaction, turned their heads in that direction, finding serim leaning against a wall with her manager, eyes lost in the screen of her phone.

the girl was so bored that she had gone to support her teammates to at least spend christmas with them instead of at home alone with her porcupine, and now she had to wait for the others to come back from the closing.

when jimin saw her, she became anxious. they had been talking through chat these days, but as it happened lately, they didn't have time to meet because of the younger girl's busy schedule. serim was surprisingly more friendly and that made jimin not hesitate to interact with her. when she knew they were in the same place, she wanted to run out to be with her, but as she started moving people out of her way to get to her, yizhuo stopped her.

"they are about to tell us to come up." she warned her.

"but namu..." a small pout formed on her lips, she really wanted to go talk to her.

"namu will still be there when we go down." she reaffirmed.

and as if they had heard her, a group of staff appeared to order them, putting the groups in line and making them pass slowly in an organized way. aespa passed among the first ones, staying in the front row.

other than posing for the fans' cameras and waiting for the conductors in charge to say the last words, there wasn't much more to that part of the show. they would also receive christmas, although it really only consisted of a confetti explosion and, actually, the day was almost over. it was all performative, but for a part, if anything, they had something special to do during the holidays and they could spend time with their fans.

one of the mcs started to speak, reading his letters full of formal words and superficial questions to ask some of the guest acts, while the idols greeted the audience as they had been trained to do. but karina's head wasn't there, as much as she loved interacting with her fandom and wanted to show respect for the hard work of the narrators, her mind kept going back to the backstage.

she was trying to be patient, but it seemed like every word they said came out slower. she just wanted to go be with her who was sure lonely and bored on christmas eve. just wanted to spend all the christmases that followed with her.

her senses came back to work when she noticed that they were saying the final words, the last words of the speech they had prepared, welcoming christmas and allowing all the groups to start wandering around the stage for a while before letting them go.

but jimin wouldn't stay for that,

jimin wanted to spend christmas with serim.

at least she could say she thought twice about it and both times thought it was a great idea to run off the stage, passing through a bunch of colleagues who, if they didn't clear a path for her, tried to hold her back to ask if she was okay.

and she was fine, almost, just losing her head a little over a woman.

when she got to the stairs leading to the staff area, her own team rushed towards her to help her with whatever she needed, but jimin pushed them away, passing them and running to where the aisles were, reading the names on all the doors looking for the one that read HeAVEN.

hell, there were an eternity of groups present.

she walked past so many doors, bumping into a world of people, her managers chasing her with intentions of finding a reason for all the chaos as she frantically ran the sbs dressing rooms. until she found it, she found herself face to face with the sign indicating what she was looking for and knocked desperately on the door, but didn't wait for anyone to open it, she opened it herself, almost falling inside where serim, sitting on a chair, looked at her dumbfounded, as well as the whole team of the group who didn't expect a member of aespa to throw herself towards the leader of the group they managed, landing on her lap, taking her face in her hands and pulling her to look her in the eyes.

"merry christmas." spoke jimin while from the monitor showing the transmission the exact same words could be heard from the conductor. "merry christmas, my namu." she repeated, leaning over her, who was now holding her waist to help her keep her balance. "i love you."

she dared to admit it and also to kiss her. drawing her face up to hers, shortening the distance, joining in a desperate, but somewhat shy kiss charged with tenderness and need. it had been so long since they kissed that it was like rediscovering something you knew you were addicted to, falling back into the vice. they were looking for more closeness, contact, for their bodies to intertwine like roots of a tree that grow without direction and belong to the same system. karina's arms clung to the older girl's neck, while she stood up, pushing the chair a little out of the way, so she could occupy the space her legs took up with the girl's presence, without letting her lips come loose even by accident.

"are you sure?" serim broke contact for a moment, opening her eyes to show desperation and illusion in these. "do you love me?"

"i love you." she left a short kiss on her lips. "i love you, i love you." she gave a peck each time she said it. "i love you." the girl kissed again. "and i'm sorry for not saying it sooner." she leaned her forehead against hers. "but after your birthday and seeing you sick, thinking about the possibility of something happening to you and the need i had to be me and no one else to take care of you..." the sentences came like waterfalls from her mouth, intraquilly trying to express her emotions. "i was afraid of being wrong, but nothing was ever so certain in my life."

serim wrapped her arms around karina's torso. "do you love me?" she asked once again.

"i love you." she confirmed, a flirtatious smile on her face.

the older one lifted her into the air taking advantage of the hold she had established on her, causing her to bend her knees, lifting her legs, and hold tighter to her. "i love you too!" she reciprocated in an exclamation, making them spin, looking genuinely joyful for the first time in months. "and merry christmas." she set her down again, accompanied with a chaste brush of their lips. "please, don't ruin this." she pleaded, a little jokingly, but you could see the sincerity in her eyes.

"i'll be good." she caressed her cheeks. "we'll be fine." she assured.

"oh my god, how beautiful." a gangly voice filled the room making everyone turn to look at aespa's manager who was choking back tears admiring the whole scene as he futilely wiped his tears with a handkerchief.

"slut!" appeared chaeyoung from the hallway.

"my manhwa lives!" celebrated ryujin with her head poking out from the door frame.

ningning was also among the accumulation of people, at the front of it all, next to the members of the staff who had tried to stop jimin, leaning against the doorframe, she said nothing, but gave them a genuine smile.

(!)

— taglist [CLOSED]: @yoontoonwhs @cwpiqwon @aliceiwk @xen248 @gtfoiydlyj @rinapomu @aeriuchinarga @multiliker @somedaydream @impossiblesharkcashrebel @yjiminswallet @nwjnsloona @yerimbrit @73vyn @dni-unavailable @yizhuobberi @sewiouslyz @yeetaberry127 @masuowo @yallatalla @aerithykly @chaenniefirst @minfolio @starrynini05 @hotluvlet @wmnrhot @mineige @lisaswifey @brocoliisscared @fae-the-wanderer

[cupids-chamber]

— THE CONCUBINE GAME !! | chapter one . . . The first chapter, where you'll be able to catch a climpse of the inner dynamics between the emperor's y/n's secretary and their personal guard, a small entry and brief taste of what's to come, while learning a bit more about our beloved emperor and their staff . . .

— Themes ; Harem / historical au , Twisted wonderland , multiple characters x reader , royalty au , includes rsa + yuuka/yuuken. ♡

The wind was howling, the pitter patter sound of rain could be heard throughout the grand walls of the palace. The sound of heels clicking urgently on the wooden floors, echoing through the empty halls, as Yuuken rushed his way through to the emperor's chambers. It was late, yet he’d been overworked all week preparing the palace for the arrival of certain selected members of the Royal Harem, some were particularly demanding with the way they wanted things sorted out and Yuuken prided himself on never failing to impress. 

He banged on the door rather aggressively, “Your majesty, I have certain design plans I need you to finalize before Prince Leona’s arrival, and the first few concubines enter the palace, we don’t have much time!”, he yelled out trying to get the emperor’s attention, it was already late into the night and the palace staff were working overtime meeting every demand that they were given. 

Yuuken flinched feeling something touch his shoulder, and right before he could move back and attack, he heard an all too familiar voice—”Don’t bother trying to get their attention, Y/n’s at a meeting”—Yuuka spoke, a small grin on her face while she watched Yuuken try and collect himself, “This late?”, he asked confused, “also please try and address them by proper titles in public”; Yuuka shrugged in response, pausing for a moment before she spoke up once more, “I’d like to keep things the way it is, and you should probably take a break because they’re not coming out of the room at all, it’s something about politics . . . I wasn’t really paying attention”. 

Yuuken sighed, slumping his shoulders as he leaned onto the door of the Emperor's chamber, “I-i . .  just want everything to be perfect, everything’s been so . . hectic for their majes—y/n and I just really want to provide some stability, you know?”, he said softly, letting his exhaustion take over for a moment and Yuuka’s expression softened, “Hey—you’re doing great, there's a reason y/n gave you full creative liberty”, she ruffled his hair giving him a genuine smile, “don’t push yourself too hard alright? None of us are expecting you to be perfect, not even y/n . .” she finished, as Yuuken closed his eyes and whispered a small, “I know . . .”

Setting: Meeting room Location: The west wing. Time: 11:36pm 

You fiddle with your fingers, trying to shift the jewelry that you were covered in, in an attempt to feel more comfortable with the weight that the jewels provided, holding you down . . , as another argument ensues between the nobles, these past few days have felt like a choir, in fact most of the months since you ascended have felt terrible, nothings been exciting—from inheriting an empire doomed to fail, to trying to pick up the scraps of what was left of your fathers reckless decisions and fixing it into something at least palatable, the pressure of everything has left you in a bottomless pit, you needed freedom a refreshing start—something you lost—when you inherited the throne . . . 

“—Ah, your majesty?”, one of the nobles spoke up, and you bit your lip, how you hated that title, the moment you inherited this role, your friendships haven’t quite been the same, everyone who you’ve trusted in the past, have now become just another subject, trust is no longer something you earn, as loyalty and trust is to be expected when the crown is on your head.

Setting: Inner Cold Palace Garden Location: Rundown Gazebo Time: 12:46am 

"—and they never thanked me'', Yuuken hiccuped out, words slurring due to his alcohol intake, he waved the half finished bottle of some form of expensive imported wine in his hands, swinging it around dramatically; Yuuka chuckled, taking a sip from her glass as she looked around at the scenery of the garden—it used to be much prettier and well taken care of, way back before the previous emperor—y/n’s father—went haywire. . . 

"Hey Yuuken, remember when we used to play together here?" she asked without thinking, meeting his eyes for a brief moment all the while Yuuken took another big gulp from his wine bottle . . and then he spoke, "Yeah—you and y/n pushed me into the lake, I still hate the water", he slurred over his words slightly and Yuuka chuckled in response, if only things could've stayed as simple, but now Y/n didn't even have the time to maintain the garden where they're friendship once first blossomed, Yuuka sighed, leaning her head down on the table—which had seen better days— . .  the same could be said about their relationship with y/n themselves . . 

Masterlist | Introductions (being reworked) | Next chapter

♡. Synposis ; After many months of persuading, the emperor, Y/N L/N had finally agreed to take in a select few concubines and consorts—not an official partner.. but concubines. This caused an uproar in court; however the emperor promised to choose an official partner; amongst the crowd of concubines and consorts.. Who will the emperor choose?

— taglist ♡ (open) : . . tumblr is not letting me mention over 5 people per post, and the staff won't do anything about it, so I recommend just joining my server and picking out the new chapter ping role as it makes things easier for me.

© cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 27/Sept/2024 

I’ve finished the base writing for Chapter Four, and I’ve almost finished the first edits!!

As you might be able to tell, it’s been a very productive week, hehe! :D

Chapter Four came together sooo smoothly! There wasn’t as many scenes, which helped, but also a major chunk of it was just the MC and another character, which obviously helps keeps variations of scenes to a smaller amount with so few characters—though I still had to put a good amount in to account for some very important choices with this very important character…

But there was a really specific line I wanted this chapter to end on, as I finally got to write it I was like vibrating with excitement, lol! :D It sets up not only the next chapter on a fun, if intense, note, but also the rest of the story!

After I finished writing, I dove straight into the editing! There was an important bit of ‘mirroring’ I really wanted to get into this chapter at the beginning and end for the romances, so getting to read back through and make sure that was clear but also subtle was great to check on!

The romances really are progressing now, and although I want that to be obvious through dialogue and actions, I also want it to be there in the subtler, quieter moments too. I think that’s where deeper feelings can really shine the most! More of an instinctual thing than something the characters are actively doing.

Next week, I will easily finish of the edits and rewrites for this chapter, and then move onto social media days.

Social media days will take a bit longer as I have the Autumnal Scenario Specials for Patreon to write, which is really going to get me in the autumnal mood…before jumping back into the heated summer going on for the next chapter, hehe! :D

Hope you all have the most amazing weekend! We’ll be offline as usual, so I’ll update you all again next week! <3

[fanfictiongirlie]

Twilight: Some Soulmate - Chapter One

Click here for masterlist

Parings: Paul Lahote x Reader

Description: Y/N a member of the Cullen family is imprinted on by one of the wolves, she is shocked, he is shocked. She is struggling with drinking animal blood over human, and he is disgusted by a vampire for a soulmate… But maybe it could work..?

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 1,819

"Good morning" I smiled as I skipped into the living room, I wiped the blood from my mouth, my hunt was successful, disgusting, but successful. Deer blood will never quench my thirst, but to stay with my family this was to stay part of my diet. 

"Good morning Y/N, how was your hunt?" Carlisle, my longest friend asked me. I smiled weakly, I was so hungry. Esme appeared behind me, before I could answer, she placed both her hands on my shoulders giving me a tight squeeze. I always felt so loved when she was around, it relaxed me. 

"It was okay, better than last time" I answered. I was lying of course. I missed human blood more than I could even explain. I suppose one good thing that comes from only drinking animal blood was my eye colour, I must preferred the amber over the red. Of course the Amber still didn't compare to my human blue eyes. 

"Are you ready Y/N?" Alice asked me. I nodded and followed him and the rest of my siblings out the door. Luckily we were taking Rosalie's car today, I preferred her driving over Edwards. Luckily Edward was out picking his human up and taking her to school. 

I hated how Edward always smelled like her now, her blood was intoxicating. Jasper struggles too, I suppose it makes me feel better that I'm not struggling alone. I'm not sure how Edward copes. I remember when I had a blood singer, only once it had happened to me. Of course I killed him, I hadn't been a vampire long. 

We spent most of the drive silently, as we normally did. Then Alice turned back to me, smirking. 

"Guess what?"

"What?" I asked, I had an inking to what she was going to say. 

"Mike's going to try again today" She giggled.

I groaned, ever since we started at this school, two years ago, Mike Newton had tried, every few weeks to ask me out, and even though I'd say no, every time, he continues to ask. I wonder if he'd ever get bored. 

"A few months and then it's over" I smile, thinking of never having to go back to that place, I had decided this was the last time I'd attend school, at least maybe for a while. Luckily I was in the same school year as Rose and Emmett, meaning I could escape sooner. I also couldn't wait for people to stop telling me I look way too old to be in High School. Physically I was 21, way over high school age, but I had a baby face. 

We arrived at school to see Edward with his arm over Bella, I thought they weren't going to become a official thing.  I climbed out of the car.

"I'll see you at lunch" I smiled at my siblings before I set off inside the school. I had English first, a class I didn't mind too much. But of course Mike was waiting outside of my classroom, I'm sure he knows my schedule better than I do. 

"Hey Y/N!" He grinned happily. 

I muttered a small hello, he smelt so strongly of his aftershave, it was burning my nose. 

"Prom's coming up, and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me?" He asked, I pretended to take a deep breath. 

"No thank you Mike, I've said before I won't be going" I smiled sweetly, and then I pushed past him to get into my class.

~~~~~~~~

I didn't pay attention to the class, I knew everything that was being taught. Another reason why I was excited to leave, maybe I could get a job, or take another college course. I'm sure there's something I haven't read about yet. I found myself drifting into a daydream, I was excited for my life after school, but of course I'd have to stay close to the family, otherwise it would upset Carlisle and Esme, and I'd do anything for them. 

'It had been a few months since I had become a vampire, and I was leaving a long string of bodies behind me, it was so easy to keep going. No more would every suspect the woman who could easily bat her eyes and get away with whatever she wanted. It was the year 1887, I was 21. I was never meant to become a vampire, but one night, a man grabbed me, and started drinking my blood, he was going to kill me. But someone or something stopped him, and I was left to die in an alley. I was suppose to die in that alley, but a few hours late I woke up, changed. 

I was all alone, and so scared. 

Until a man found me, he was a strange man, I thought he was human at first, but just a second before I lunged I couldn't hear his heartbeat, couldn't feel the heat of his blood. I had never met another vampire. Not since I became one. 

"Who are you?" I hissed, my teeth bearing at him. 

"My name is Carlisle, if you'd let me, I'd like to help you" He smiled, I felt a warm feeling wash over me, maybe I could trust him?'

When I met Carlisle he took me in, tried to show me the vegetarian way. But I've struggled with it. After a few months with Carlisle, we realised I had a gift. Not a big one, but I can always tell what someone thinks of me, how they feel about me. It's how I could tell Carlisle was to be trusted. I can always tell if someone likes me, to dislikes me. It made hunting so fun, I could always tell if someone thought I was beautiful, it meant I could seduce them, and feed from them. 

It's how I can tell Mike only thinks I look nice, he doesn't care about anything else. 

Once class was over, and another class droned one, it was finally time for lunch. I had a blacked out water bottle full of animal blood. It was gross. 

I sat along side my siblings, except Edward, he chose to sit with Bella. I envied them almost.

Edward and I were the last two without mates. Now it was just me. 154 Years old, and I had never found someone who made me feel complete. My family had, and I endured seeing it everyday. I'm sure if my heart still worked it would be constantly breaking. 

I sipped my drink loudly, my siblings hated when I did that. I smirked at them and carried on..

~~~~~~~~

"Y/N" Esme called, I left my room and followed the noise coming from the kitchen, I walked in and was shocked. My family were cooking, actually cooking. 

"What's happening here?" I asked, watching them. I had no clue what they were even making.

"Edward is brining Bella here" Esme beamed, I rolled my eyes playfully at her, but then felt my throat burn.

"And I want everyone to be welcoming" She added. 

I put my hand to my throat and rubbed it absently. 

"Esme, I don't know if I can" I panicked "I'm worse than Jasper"

She pulled me into her arms and hugged me for a few seconds. 

"You'll be okay" I smiled at her, and stepped closer to Emmett. He was strong enough to stop me if needed. 

"Is she even Italian?" Rosalie asked. 

"Her names Bella" Emmett answered as if it was completely obvious. I started chucking at him, until I smelt it. 

Bella, her blood, it smelt amazing, intoxicating. I held onto the breakfast bar and tried concentrating. 

"Here comes the human" Rosalie sung. 

Edward and Bella walked in, Edward introduced her to Esme and Carlisle, and then brought Bella over to me. I wanted to kill him for bringing her closer. 

"This is Y/N, she's actually the third eldest in the family, after Carlisle and Jasper" He chuckled, but stopped when he saw my face. I'm sure he could hear me cursing him in my head. 

"Yes Edward, mention my age" I said grimly, but it gave me an excuse to walk out. I needed to hunt.

I left my house quick, and ran into the forest, I found something to feed on, and managed to get blood all over myself. I looked a complete state. I slumped against a tree, and sat. I sat and sat for hours, thinking, and making a weird little flower chain. I was quite content, and calming myself down. Until I heard a growl. 

I looked up, and jumped in fear, I jumped so I was clinging onto the tree a few feet off the ground. 

I heard the growl again, realising it was probably a animal, I jumped to the ground. I was still thirsty, perhaps I could find the source. Without a sound I slowly started walking towards the animal, I had picked up it's scent, it was foul smelling. No animal I had smelt before. 

I stopped, deciding to find a more appealing animal, until it jumped into the clearing. 

"Oh, it's one of you" I hissed, one of the shapeshifters. I hadn't seen this wolf before, not that I had seen many. He was dark silver, and was looking incredibly angry at me. 

I looked into its eyes, I wasn't sure if it was going to attack or not, but I wasn't going to make a move. Suddenly I felt something wash over me, a strong feeling of love and care, it confused me. I didn't understand what was happening, but the feeling was coming from him. 

"What's happening" I stutter at the wolf. The wolf looked scared now, he growled once more and ran off. I copied, and ran home, fast. 

"Carlisle" I screamed when I got close enough to the house. My family were outside the greet me, all of them worried.

"He imprinted on you" Edward suddenly said, I was still confused.

"What?" I screamed, they all flinched. 

"Imprinting is when a wolf finds their soulmate" Carlisle explained carefully 

"So a wolf is my soulmate? They hate us! They want us dead!" I yelled "Not to mention I'm not even allowed on their land"

I started walking towards the house, wanting to be away from everyone. 

"Some soulmate" I scoffed to myself, knowing the others could hear too. 

I walked into my room, shutting my door and locking it. 

I grabbed my laptop and started researching about the wolves, and their legends, and mostly about imprinting. Apparently it didn't happen very often, it was described as extremely rare. I didn't even know the wolf, I had no way of finding out who he was either. I wasn't allowed on their land, not that I was brave enough to even go close. 

To make matters even worse, I'm not sure there was anything I could even speak to about this.. 

Next Part

[ohbueckers]

TWO CAN PLAY THAT GAME. i just wanna get to know you, guess i didn’t quite think it through.

CHAPTER TWO! pairing, paige bueckers x fem!oc. notes, thank you guys for all the love on the first part!!! it only made me more excited for this rollercoaster fr... here’s part two 🫦 not proofread… warnings, injury and the angst with that!

july, 2022

it had been a few weeks since sana’s first practice, and things had shifted between her and paige—though not entirely for the better or worse.

the sun had been setting over the outdoor court. it was one of those perfect summer nights where the heat had finally loosened its grip and mellowed to something more bearable. the team had migrated outside because the gym’s ac was busted, and this hangout—just a casual run, really—felt different. lighter. less pressure.

azzi had brought a speaker, blasting music that set the tone for the evening. most of the girls had left to grab pizza and bring it back, but a few stayed behind, shooting around, lounging on the benches, laughing and talking.

sana had blended in perfectly with the huskies these past few weeks, getting along especially well with nika, azzi, and caroline. nika, in particular, had taken a liking to her no-nonsense attitude, and let’s just say practice was a pain in the ass for their coaches when they weren’t entirely focused. when nika made a joke, sana was always there to back it up, making it ten times funnier. you can also say that paige caught most of these strays.

the rest of the team seemed to quickly hop on the sana train themselves. she was a perfectionist in a way that wasn’t overbearing, and it was why her game was so good in the first place. she made everyone around her better by just being herself, and it showed. but even so, she’d built rapport with most of them, save for one notable exception.

paige bueckers, of course.

paige, who had spent the last few weeks vacillating between subtle irritation and begrudging respect when it came to sana. there were moments where she’d find herself looking and wondering why she couldn’t just relax, couldn’t just click with her the way she did with everyone else. if it wasn’t exactly hate, then what was it?

they weren’t at each other’s throats, in fact, the first day of practice was probably as hostile as it had ever gotten between them. sana was mature enough to the point where she wouldn’t let it get that far, but always pushed it borderline to the edge. every interaction was like a test, some back-and-fourth exchange that only left paige to think what the fuck sana even meant by what she’d just said, because she swore there was some bigger meaning.

the first few weeks had been like that. testing boundaries. sana with her measured responses, and paige with her quick retorts and lingering glances in which she always denied, kinda like right now.

paige was standing near the sideline, pretending to dribble aimlessly while keeping a very subtle eye on sana, who had moved to grab a drink of water at the other end of the court. it was unintentional—at least that’s what she told herself—but her eyes always seemed to find their way back to her, no matter where she was.

the blonde found herself noticing other things, things she had no business noticing for the amount of times she’s actually had a conversation with the girl that didn’t include some type of jab. the way sana’s smile tilted just a bit when she was being sarcastic, the way her eyes narrowed slightly when she was focused. paige hated that she noticed those things—hated that sana was in her head at all.

nika, who had been watching the whole thing with a growing smirk, sauntered over to paige, draping an arm over her shoulders. “you know, if you’re gonna keep staring, at least make it less obvious.”

paige elbowed her in the side, pushing the brunette off of her with a smug smirk. “you can shut up.”

nika stumbled back dramatically, clutching her side as if paige had actually hurt her. “damn, alright!” she laughed, tossing her ponytail behind her head. “but seriously, i thought this was just a first day thing. shouldn’t the transfer aftershock be well over by now?”

paige rolled her eyes, licking her lips as more of a habit than necessity as she began dribbling the basketball again. she kept her head down, focusing on the sound against the pavement as she passed from hand to hand, sliding the ball between her legs a few times too. “there’s nothing to get over.”

“sure, sure,” nika said, her grin wide, as if she didn’t believe a single word. her eyes flicked between paige and the far end of the court, where sana had just finished downing half a water bottle, her shoulders rising and falling. she then looked at azzi, who had been making her way back over from messing with the songs on her playlist.

of course her best friend had noticed too.

“wait, what are we talking about? paige and sana?” azzi threw out as if she’d been dying to talk about it for a hot minute. “because you have got a terrible poker face,” the curly-haired girl pointed at paige, the comment sending nika into a fit of snickers that had her hunching over.

paige’s head whipped to her. “nah, you can chill too,” she said, pointing at azzi with mock exasperation. “and it’s not that funny,” paige deadpanned, although she couldn’t bite back her smirk for the life of her.

nika straightened up, giving paige a faux serious look as she tilted her head back thoughtfully. “okay, sure you don’t wanna tell her how good she looks in navy?”

and well, it only made the blonde more upset that she did indeed look too good in that damn navy workout tee.

“i ain’t even lookin’ at her like that,” paige said, too defensive way too quickly. she punctuated her response with a cheesy grin, the type she used to play it cool while her insides were knotting up.

“really? cause you’ve got that whole wistful longing look on lock down.” nika gave her a look herself, a long one that made the blonde semi-uncomfortable. the brunette was reading her to filth, but paige had came to the conclusion awhile ago that nothing could happen if the feelings weren’t reciprocated. nothing would happen.

“wistful?” paige stared, shaking her head. “she hates me.”

nika raised her eyebrows, jerking her head back. “oh! so you’re saying you’d crush if she didn’t hate you?”

paige huffed out a laugh, scrunching her face up as she let the ball roll to a stop under her foot. “crush is actually crazy, nika.”

“eh, not entirely,” azzi chimed in, her eyes gleaming with that ‘i see you’ look. nika practically jumped for joy at the backup, like it was a victory to have someone else on her side. clearly, she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.

paige groaned internally, feeling cornered and slightly taken aback. “y’all think i have no self-control? we’re teammates.”

nika crossed her arms, smirking. “i’m praying that you do.”

paige paused for a second, brain tripping over nika’s words. that’s what everyone thought, right? that they were just teammates, that the line couldn’t be crossed. she kept telling herself that too—telling herself that all these games, all the heat, and tension between her and sana would eventually fizzle out because it had to. because it was supposed to.

“let’s be real for a second,” azzi said, looking down as she searched for the right words. she had a ball tucked underneath her arm. “if anything did happen between y’all—and i’m not saying it will—” she shot paige a pointed look, one that told her to not get defensive and cut her off. “—it’d throw the whole team off balance.”

“i know!” the blonde cut in, her voice sharper than she meant it to be. “but that’s not even on the table. nothing’s gonna happen.” she felt like she was convincing herself more than anyone else.

nika shrugged. “i mean, you say that now, but feelings are weird. and they don’t care about what’s allowed.”

paige stayed quiet for a second, turning over the idea. they don’t care about what’s allowed. feelings don’t care about what you’ve got going on, they just seep their way in.

she knew the rules, of course—both the ones the coaching staff had laid out and the unspoken ones. she couldn’t let this thing, whatever it was, turn into more. it wasn’t just about her or sana. it was about the team. the season. the future. the problem was that knowing that didn’t make the tension between them any less real. or maybe it was all in her head.

they don’t care about what’s allowed.

just as paige was about to respond, sana, oblivious—or pretending to be—was making her way back over to the group, the lazy saunter in her step practically designed to test paige’s patience. she straightened up instinctively, breathing in all straight-faced as she leaned over to pick up the ball from the ground.

“i brought friends,” she announced, caroline and ice stalking behind her. “what are you guys so serious about?” sana then asked, her eyes shifting between nika and azzi before landing on paige, as if her comment was more directed at the blonde. the question felt a little too casual, like sana had noticed how much less at ease paige was compared to just a few moments ago before she’d left.

“uh,” paige cleared her throat, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, feeling uncharacteristically off-balance. “we were just…talkin’ about the team.”

nika stared at her friend in actual disbelief. she was stuttering, and normally she’d jump to make fun of her for it, but she wanted to observe how this would play out. her answer was vague, sure, but it was the best she could come up with on the spot. paige wasn’t used to being caught off guard, especially not by sana. their interactions—when they did happen—were usually trash talk that was easy to brush off in the moment but lingered with her long after. but right now, there was something about sana’s direct attention that had her fumbling.

meanwhile, sana caught the hesitation in paige’s voice. she tilted her head ever so slightly, her smirk growing a little wider. paige stuttering? that was a first.

paige never stuttered.

ice broke the brief silence with a laugh. “are we playin’ or what?”

paige, determined to regain her footing, grinned and stepped back, dribbling the ball lazily between her legs as she walked backward. her eyes stayed locked on sana’s, her confidence slowly returning. “we’ll start,” she said, her voice a little lower now, challenging. “just don’t be mad when i drop 30 on you.”

sana’s smirk didn’t falter. she strolled closer, her hands clasped behind her back. “oh, you think you’re actually gonna score on me? i didn’t even know you had jokes like that.”

paige scrunched her face up, half from the setting sun taking over her eyesight, and half in disbelief. “i got more than just jokes,” she shot back, continuing to walk backward, her grin widening as she bounced the ball from hand to hand. “you ready to see?”

“i’m ready for you to see,” sana countered. her eyes moved down to the ball for a second before rising to meet paige’s again. then maybe to her perfectly parted pink lips, but then to her eyes again. “you’ll be the one sitting down after this.”

azzi, watching the scene unfold alongside everyone else, couldn’t hold back any longer. “double meaning,” she muttered under her breath, making nika nearly lose it beside her, biting her lip to keep from laughing too loudly.

sana’s gaze briefly moved toward azzi, catching the comment even though it was quiet. for a split second, her confident smirk faltered, and she narrowed her eyes at paige. “what were you talking about before i came back?” she asked, and the blonde should’ve known sana of all people would ask even if she had the slightest feeling it was about her. she was confrontational.

paige felt the shift immediately, recognizing that azzi’s offhand comment had landed. but instead of backing down, she kept her cool, though her heart was beating a little faster. “nothin’ you can’t handle,” she replied, her tone smug as she kept dribbling.

sana paused, tilting her head as she always did as if she was trying to piece everything together. “you guys talking about me?”

paige hesitated for half a second, barely noticeable to anyone except herself. “paranoid?”

“curious.”

paige licked her lips, holding her ground. “i said it was nothin’ you can’t handle, remember?”

sana’s smirk shifted, becoming a little sharper as she moved just close enough to make her presence felt. “right,” she said slowly, as if she didn’t believe her. “just wondering if i’m that interesting.”

the blonde’s eyes narrowed, fingers tightening around the basketball. “only when you talk too much.” she smiled, a wide one that left sana actually laughing as she pushed at her shoulder with two hands.

“shut up.”

paige stumbled back slightly, more out of performance than anything else, her grin never faltering. “you love to hate me, don’t you?”

sana blinked, clearly thrown, and for a moment paige had thought she’d pushed too far. crossed some invisible line she couldn’t quite see. but what she wasn’t ready for was the simple, almost quiet reply that followed. in fact, sana cursed herself for how vulnerable she sounded, that her mind felt the need to make it known to paige.

“i don’t hate you.”

and well, paige was thrown too.

august, 2022

you could’ve asked paige bueckers two weeks ago where she’d be today, right now, and it would be nowhere along the lines of sitting hopelessly in her bed with a torn acl injury. two weeks ago, she was at practice, thinking about championships, the first game all the way in november, and how invincible they’d be this season. two weeks ago, everything made sense.

now, nothing did.

she stared at the ceiling, the weight of the brace on her knee acting like a reminder she couldn’t shake off. the ache wasn’t just physical—it was deep, gnawing at her, like she’d lost a part of herself. this wasn’t supposed to happen. not to her. and now, she couldn’t even walk without wincing.

her phone vibrated with a text from her mom, the same encouraging words she’d gotten since the surgery: “you’re strong, paige. you’ll get through this.”

she knew her family meant well, but the truth was, they weren’t here. they weren’t the ones stuck in this room, feeling like the walls were closing in. they weren’t the ones who had to deal with the brutal reality of an injury that would change everything. they came through, sure—reassured her, gave her hugs, gifts, and pep talks, but then they left. they had lives to return to, jobs, obligations. paige was left here, marooned on campus, staring at a future she couldn’t control.

she hadn’t even been able to bring herself to watch the replay of the moment it happened. the wrong landing, the sharp twist, the way she knew immediately that something was off. the doctor’s words played on a loop in her head: “it’s a torn acl, paige. you’re gonna need surgery.” it was like they were speaking in slow motion, but time sped up so quickly after that. surgery dates just days after, recovery plans, the end of everything she’d been working for—at least for the season, maybe more.

how did this happen so fast?

she let out a breath, reaching for the bottle of water on her bedside table. caroline had been a constant, at least. she’d stuck around, even when she could’ve gone home to her family, to summer plans that didn’t involve taking care of her friend. the blonde was grateful, but there was a part of her that felt…resentful. she didn’t want to be anyone’s burden, and yet, here she was.

the door creaked open, and paige looked up, expecting caroline to walk in with her usual easy smile. but it wasn’t caroline.

it was sana.

paige’s brows furrowed. she didn’t expect to see her until practices started up again, let alone here, on campus, in the middle of summer. her hair was braided into two neat french braids, her skin glowing like she hadn’t just been dealing with whatever hell life had thrown at her.

“sana… what’re you doing here?” paige asked, more bluntly than she intended. there was a part of her that didn’t trust this—sana showing up out of nowhere, like she cared. she’d checked in alongside the rest of the team, yes, but to show up? it was an entirely different story.

sana shrugged, her usual confidence slightly muted. “i thought i’d check in.” she didn’t sit down, didn’t drop her bag. she lingered near the doorway, like she wasn’t sure if she should stay.

paige stared at her, suddenly a little self-conscious that sana had been seeing her like this, her knee propped up on a stack of pillows caroline had set up for her. she didn’t know why. “thought you’d be enjoying your summer.”

sana’s jaw tightened, her eyes flickering for just a second before she shrugged again, more casually this time. “not much to enjoy back home.”

paige felt that. but she wasn’t about to let her guard down just because sana had decided to play the good teammate card. “what, your family didn’t want you back?” she asked, half-joking, half-serious.

sana’s expression faltered for a fraction of a second, and paige caught it. ah, she thought. there it was—something deeper. something that made her just as messed up inside as paige felt right now.

“they weren’t exactly throwing a party for my return,” sana said, leaning against the wall now, arms crossed over her chest. she avoided eye contact, and paige suddenly felt like an asshole for pressing.

“everybody’s got their shit right now then, huh?” paige muttered, sighing as she leaned back against the her headboard.

sana glanced at her, a small smirk playing on her lips, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “yeah, something like that.” she finally moved from the doorway, settling on the chair across the room. there was still distance between them, but it was the closest they’d ever gotten to having a multi-layered conversation, something that unlocked all of the fronts sana had put up.

paige shifted slightly, watching her. the tension between them, however, was still there—longing, unspoken things neither of them seemed ready to admit, but for once, it felt like they weren’t playing a game. paige didn’t know if she could handle another layer of uncertainty in her life right now, but this? it felt different. on the other hand, she couldn’t shake the feeling that sana was here out of obligation rather than choice.

“why’d you really come?” paige asked, her voice softer now.

sana met her eyes, a set of absolutely exhausted blue hues. “i know we’re not exactly best friends, but it felt like the right thing to do,” she huffed out.

paige couldn’t help but smirk, and sana had seen that look before. she furrowed her eyebrows, already sensing the shift. “what?” she asked, her hands gesturing in a way that made it clear she wasn’t about to play along with whatever paige was thinking.

her smirk widened. “who knew all it would take is me getting injured for you to stop hating me.”

sana’s reaction was immediate. her lips parted slightly, and she gave a little shake of her head, almost as if she couldn’t believe the words had just come out of paige’s mouth. “i told you i didn’t hate you, p. i’ve never hated you.” the words came out firm, but not defensive.

“you do know you act like it though, right?” she was almost pleading for honesty at this point. “before your transfer. you never even looked my way.”

sana blinked, her posture stiffening slightly. it wasn’t like paige to push like this, to dig beneath the surface. and she definitely hadn’t expected to come here and admit so much, but maybe all they needed was to be sat down in a room together. no noise, no basketball. still, sana couldn’t help the way her defenses rose instinctively. “i didn’t have to look your way,” she said, but there was no bite to her words. it was more of an explanation, a little tired and raw. “everyone already was.”

paige didn’t move, just blinked. “except you.”

sana opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out at first. she wasn’t sure how to explain it—to put into words why she had kept her distance. why she acted like paige didn’t exist, like she wasn’t the one person who’d always gotten under her skin without even trying.

“i don’t know,” sana finally admitted. “i guess… i didn’t want to.”

paige raised an eyebrow. “didn’t want to?”

she let out a breath, leaning forward slightly as if the weight of her thoughts was too much to bear while sitting back. “i’m just competitive. i push myself hard, and you’re one of the best. it’s not hate; it’s just… i don’t know. maybe i was trying to keep up with you.”

sana caruso had said she didn’t know two times practically within the same breath. for the first time, she’d seen the girl actually be unsure of something, unsure about her.

“and i’ve never hated you,” sana repeated, locking eyes with paige as if she needed her to really feel it. “i admire you, actually.”

was this real life?

“i guess i always thought you were untouchable,” paige confessed, mainly because it felt right. “like, you had everything figured out. and here i am, sitting on the sidelines while you about to be out there thriving.” she could’ve chuckled at the thought.

sana shook her head, the playful bravado she usually wore like armor slipping away. “you have no idea how often i felt like i was just pretending. like i was always one mistake away from everyone realizing i wasn’t as good as they thought.”

for a moment, paige didn’t know what to say. it was almost laughable—how similar they were in all the ways that mattered, but neither of them had seen it until now.

“i get that,” she finally said, her voice stripped of its usual humor. “i get it more than you think. i feel like i’ve already made that mistake.”

sana’s eyes softened, and there was an understanding that hadn’t been there before. and for the first time in what felt like forever, paige didn’t feel so alone. she felt seen. by sana, of all people.

“you’ll be back on the court before you know it,” sana said, her voice a little brighter now. she could tell paige had been getting in her head about the injury again, and although she hadn’t experienced something as life-changing as that, she could be there for her. “i can’t wait to see you kick everyone’s ass again.”

paige let out a breath, a laugh breaking through her chest, light but full of relief. “and you’re gonna get our team that chip.”

and sana smiled. at paige.

our team.

[buckysdollbarnes]

you are in love series - part one

one look, dark room

PAIRING: tfawts!bucky x grad student!reader

Summary: Moving to NYC to go to grad school, your friend's dad has a connection with the owner of a rental building in Brooklyn where you can live on your own, for cheaper than you could get anywhere else. On a student's budget, you strive to still make your place your own by thrifting as much decor as possible. Meeting your quiet and somewhat secretive neighbor, James, you gain some free labor to help you move the random stuff you buy, and with that he may be growing to love parts of the modern world he has been missing. With you in a big, new city feeling alone for the first time and Bucky wanting to make a connection with someone other than Sam and his therapist, maybe online marketplaces and a turntable will bring you both what you need most.

warnings: mild language

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this is my first time EVER writing fiction, usually I only ever write academic papers so this is fun. :) I read over and revised this chapter so many times, so I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed and I'm excited to start on the next chapter.

a/n: also!! sorry for it being so long genuinely just so much had to happen in this chapter for it to be set up the way I wanted, which I think I did well enough. lmk what you think <3

Why did I think carrying this by myself was a good idea? It might be cute and a great deal, but I don’t think I'll be able to feel my arms tomorrow. I might need to hit the gym again before I find more bargains like this. Hell, maybe I'll even invest in a neck towel, because this heat is unbearable. I’ve been searching for some larger pieces to fill my apartment, and this vintage bar cart should fit perfectly. Just five more blocks to go.

Moving here alone has certainly come with its challenges: being on my own in such a big city, dealing with a lot of stress, and managing on a tight budget. But I’m determined to make it work though and prove everyone wrong. Growing up, you see so many romcoms where the heroine leaves everything behind to chase her dreams in NYC, landing a job at a magazine or fashion house, living in a gorgeous high-rise, and meeting the perfect guy. It’s a beautiful fantasy really, but the reality is much tougher. New York isn’t a movie set; it’s a real city with real people, and you have to work just as hard, if not harder, to be here. I know that, but it feels like a majority of my people back home DON’T know that I know that.

I came here for school. In about two months, I’ll be starting my Master’s program at NYU. I don’t think I’ve ever been as proud as when I received my acceptance email. I worked my ass off in undergrad to earn strong recommendations and good academic standing, and seeing it all come together was a huge relief—until the reality of the cost hit me.

Luckily, a friend's dad has a connection with a landlord in Brooklyn and got me a good deal on a place of my own. It’s incredible not to have a roommate in this market, especially in a place where your bed doesn’t touch your stove, though it can be a bit lonely.

Finally, reaching the stoop, out of breath, you set the cart down on the pavement. Wiping your brow, you notice the street is unusually quiet for this time of day. The city never truly sleeps, but the residential streets seem to take occasional naps. A little breath of air somewhere where it feels like oxygen is running out sometimes. Light filters through the trees, momentarily blinding you, and you turn back toward the building.

“How on earth am I going to get this up to my floor?”

Carrying it down the street was one thing, but hauling it up the stairs is a whole different challenge. Plus, who knows when the building's maintenance has last been here, the steps might not hold up under the cart’s weight. They usually feel like they could give away holding one person.

Deciding that falling to your death and being crushed isn’t really how you want to go, you open the double doors and drag the cart into the lobby, using the wheels on one side. Passing the main desk where the worker, who looks completely uninterested, engrossed in a crossword puzzle, you make your way to the end of the hall and start pulling the cart backwards up the incline of the stairwell.

“Nah, I can’t,” you say aloud, after struggling up two floors, letting the cart rest on the landing. There’s still three more floors to go, but your body is clearly telling you the cart belongs right here. Maybe the universe wants it to stay here—who knows, maybe the entire second floor needs a communal bar more than you do.

“Excuse me,” a quiet but rough male voice comes from behind me. You turn around to see him—a guy you’ve seen around your floor a few times, though you’ve never talked. One of the neighbors. You quickly realize you’re blocking the entire staircase.

“Sorry! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I’ll move this um — just give me a second.”

You shove the cart closer to the wall to make some space for him to pass, but he stays put, his gloved hands in his pockets. He’s definitely handsome—tall and solid, but not intimidating. His furrowed brow and tight-lipped expression don’t exactly scream “welcome,” but he’s still got a certain charm.

He shifts a bit, clearly wanting to say something but hesitating. Feeling a bit awkward under his gaze, you decide to try talking to him again.

“You can just squeeze by if you want. It’s just really heavy, so I’m taking a quick break before I try lifting it up again.”

After a moment, he seems to make up his mind and asks, “Do you need help?”

Looking back at him, you consider saying no. You pride yourself on being independent and capable, and part of you wants to insist you can handle it. But then you think about the struggle of getting the cart up the last two flights of stairs—only this time, it's three—and decide against it.

“You wouldn’t mind? You’re headed down, I’m sure you’ve got somewhere else to be.”

He gives a little smirk that makes you feel a bit dizzy.

“Well, I’m already here so.”

You nod slowly, a small smile appearing on your face.

“Sure, you can take this end, and I’ll get this o—” you start to say, but before you can finish, he’s already in front of you, lifting the cart with ease and starting up the stairs without breaking a sweat.

“Hey! Be careful, uh—,” you pause, realizing you don’t know his name.

He picks up on your hesitation and hesitates himself, considering whether to give his name. He’s wary of how others might perceive him, potentially recognizing his name from past news broadcasts or papers, still dealing with the shadows of his past despite his efforts to make amends. Not wanting to be dishonest, he chooses the safe option.

“James.”

“Be careful, James. I don’t want you tripping and falling on my account.”

“Won’t happen, doll.”

“What-,” you start, caught off guard by the pet name, “what if it does?”

“It won’t, see?” With the last few steps, you and James arrive at your floor. “Already here.”

He must have seen you around before too, to know where you live.

He gives you a quick look and then carries the cart to your door.

“This is yours, right?” He turns and looks at you expectantly. You rush over, fumbling for your keys to unlock the door. If he’s willing to move it all the way, who are you to turn him down?

You lead James into your apartment, wondering if it looks anything like his. The layout can’t be that different; it’s not exactly a luxury building.

He strolls further into the room.

“You can set it right here,” you say quickly. “Thank you for bringing it up for me. I was honestly thinking about giving up when you showed up.”

Setting the cart where you indicated, he straightens up, rolls his shoulders back, and gives you a look that feels intense.

“It’s no problem.”

His gaze wanders around your apartment, taking in the mix of vintage furniture and eclectic decor. On a student’s budget, you’ve filled your space with secondhand finds. It’s more affordable and personal that way. The place might not be filled with new things, but it’s entirely curated by you. Finding beauty in the mix of old and new is something you do well, and now, thanks to James, you have one more piece to add.

James’s eyes land on your turntable setup. He seems intrigued by your collection of records but doesn’t say anything, turning his attention back to you.

“I have to go.”

Your eyebrows lift at his abruptness. Sensing your surprise, he quickly adds, “I’ve got an appointment.”

You nod vigorously, urging him to go and thanking him again for his kindness. Feeling a bit sad that this chance encounter with your new neighbor is ending so quickly, you call out as he heads for the door.

“I’ll see you around then? Since you live here too.”

He turns on his heel, giving you one last smirk.

“Yeah, you’ll see me.”

As he heads down the stairs, you shut your door and lock it behind you. Wandering over to where James’s gaze lingered, you pull an album from the shelf, lift the acrylic cover on your turntable, and set the record down. You close the cover, push play, and let the needle softly drop onto the vinyl. As the music starts, your mind drifts back to James.

Embarrassingly, you find yourself hoping this isn’t a one-time encounter. You don’t know much about him beyond his name, but there’s something about him that makes you want to see him again.

“Two hundred bucks for this is crazy,” you mutter to yourself, staring in disbelief at the sofa you’re eyeing on Facebook Marketplace.

“People are practically giving this stuff away.”

Not wanting to miss out on such a good deal, you message the seller to check if it’s still available.

Since you got the bar cart about a week and a half ago, you haven’t picked up anything else. With the July heat blasting, just thinking about moving a sofa in this weather makes you want to rip off your skin to cool down.

You can’t help but think of James, who you’ve seen briefly in the hallway since your last encounter. He just nodded as he passed by, and that was it.

Your phone dings, snapping you out of your thoughts. The seller confirms the sofa is still available and offers to deliver it since they have a truck.

Excited, you reply with a yes, and they let you know they’ll head your way soon.

You get up to rearrange your furniture, making space for the new sofa. You don’t have much to move since you’ve been slowly collecting things. As you shift the pieces around, your turntable stops, signaling it’s time to flip the record. After you do, you take a moment to picture how the sofa will fit in the space.

Then it hits you—moving a sofa is way heavier than the bar cart. If you struggled with that, how on earth will you manage this?

“Independent woman, my ass.”

With the delivery imminent, you decide on the only solution you can think of. Without hesitation, you head to the apartment across the hall and knock softly on the door. You wait, hoping James will answer. After a moment of shuffling and then silence, you start to wonder if you should just try something else.

Just then, the door cracks open, revealing half of James’s face. He looks curious but not annoyed—no one usually visits him.

“Hey! James! Great to see you again! I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I was wondering if you could help me out a bit? I just bought a sofa from this marketplace deal, and the seller’s coming to drop it off right now. He said he’d deliver it, but didn’t offer to help get it up to my apartment. I realized a sofa is way heavier than a bar cart, and you saw me struggle with that, so I was kinda sorta hoping you could help me bring it up here?”

After your rambling, you offer him a hopeful smile, waiting for his response.

A few moments of silence later, that smirk you’ve been missing appears on his face. Opening the door wider, he comments with a grin.

“You bought another thing you knew you couldn’t get up the stairs?”

“I honestly didn’t think it through. The deal was too good to pass up. I’m really sorry for bothering you. I can try to find someone else if you’re busy.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, doll.”

The smile that blooms on your face is unavoidable.

As the delivery guy drives away, James shows you where to grab the sofa and effortlessly lifts the other end. He encourages you to take the lead, making sure the weight is on him as you both navigate the stairs. With minimal effort, you get the sofa up to your place.

After some awkward maneuvering, you finally get the sofa into your apartment through the thin door and set it down. You put your hands on your hips and exhale deeply, only to find James already looking at you with that same intense gaze from before. It makes you a little nervous.

You can’t help but feel grateful—there’s no way you would have managed this on your own.

“I could have handled the bar cart,” you say, nodding toward the cart now adorned with bottles in the corner, “but this? No chance. Thanks so much for your help.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies. “I wasn’t busy.”

As you look at him, you start to feel like you know him from somewhere beyond being just a neighbor. Maybe you’ve seen him around the city before you moved?

Brushing off the thought, you offer, “You’ve helped me out twice now, and it doesn’t feel right not to return the favor. If your whole evening consists of not being busy, why not stay for dinner? I promise I’ll cook something totally good and not poisonous.”

James looks surprised by your offer but quickly hides it.

“You don’t need to do that. You don’t owe me anything,” he says, not wanting you to feel obligated or uncomfortable. He worries that his presence might not be enjoyable.

He wishes he could be as charming as he was back in the 40s. Being friendly used to come easily, and if he were still the same person he was at 26, he wouldn’t have left so quickly after helping you on the stairs the first time. He wouldn’t have had a therapists appointment to go to and he wouldn’t have a hidden arm made of metal. He’d have asked you to dinner or for you to let him take you dancing instead in return for his brawn. Now, he struggles to make new connections beyond a few familiar faces, like Sam, and asking someone for a dance feels out of reach.

“No, no! Stay, I insist! It gets kind of lonely around here, doesn’t it? Why not have a friend dinner?” you press, hoping he’ll take you up on the offer.

Seeing your sincerity, though still feeling a bit miffed, he finally agrees.

“Yeah, sure. I can stay.”

James settles onto the sofa while you work in the kitchen. You’ve decided on making some stuffed ravioli and garlic bread—easy, delicious, hard to mess up.

Before getting into cooking, you switch out the record, letting new music drift softly through the space. Unbeknownst to you, James watches closely, paying attention to how you handle the records and the turntable. The care you take when putting a record back in its slip, taking a new one out of its dust cover, and gently putting it on.

Seeing you focused on cooking, James gets up and strolls over to your setup. He runs his fingers lightly across the spines of the record sleeves, feeling a surprising sense of comfort. He hadn’t realized people still used record players so often.

The setup looks quite familiar to him, with many aspects reminiscent of the record players he used back in his earlier days. In his life before this one.

As you finish preparing the pasta and pull the bread from the oven, you call out, “Hey, food’s ready!”

You glance back to see James hovering by the turntable. He quickly moves to the table and sits down.

Over dinner, the conversation flows comfortably. James seems to be relaxing a bit, his initial reserve fading. He’s still somewhat guarded, but what he does share is genuinely interesting. You sense that opening up is challenging for him, so you respect his pace and take whatever he is willing to give. Laughing with each other a few times and getting through some odd topics, he mentions that he hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in quite a while and thanks you with a smile.

After a pleasant dinner, you decide to bring up something you’d been curious about.

“You like records?”

Caught off guard by the question, James tries to answer without revealing too much about himself. It feels strange to be here, knowing you don’t really know who he is, but he worries that being too open might scare you away. He decides to keep his secrets for now, selfishly hoping to get to know you better before revealing more.

“Yeah, I used to have quite a few records as a kid. My ma would play them too, especially when she was cooking, just like you. I didn’t realize they were still so popular.”

Excited by this glimpse into his past, you push further.

“Oh, there’s definitely a huge market for vinyl. Lots of people who think it makes them superior, but also a lot who just love the physical aspect of it.”

“So which one are you?” he asks.

You laugh and reply, “Maybe a bit of both.”

You glance up at him from beneath your lashes, catching his rare smile.

“But really, I just like having it. There’s something different about the listening experience. It requires more effort than just hitting play on a playlist. It’s about choosing a full album and actually sitting down to listen. That feels more intentional to me, and that’s why I do it.”

James seems to ponder your answer, his expression softer than before. He then turns his gaze back to the turntable.

“So, since you mentioned you had records as a kid, do you not have any now?” you ask.

He shakes his head.

“Haven’t had any for a long time. Talking about it makes me miss them. Everything these days feels so complicated. I like simple things like that.”

Watching him as he looks away, you hesitate but notice the nostalgic shine in his eyes. You sense he might appreciate physical music even more than you do.

“If you ever get any and don’t have a place to play them, you’re welcome to use mine.”

He turns to face you, his expression unreadable.

“I mean, I know it’s not the most convenient offer, but it’s there. One record lover to another,” you add with a smile.

He returns your smile, saying, “Okay… thank you. I’ll keep that in mind, Doll.”

That night, Bucky lies on his makeshift bed on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and replaying the events of the day. You knocking on his door for help with the couch, inviting him over for dinner, and all the easygoing conversation you shared. It was such a stark contrast to his usual rigidity. He'd let his guard down just a little—letting himself smile or flirt ever so slightly.

He wishes he were better at this. It used to come so naturally. Hell, before he left for war, he’d gone dancing with both his own date and Steve’s at the same time. Now, he finds himself listening to you talk while struggling to share anything of his own.

He doesn’t want to pass up your invitation, especially since you’re inviting him into your space again. Clearly, his reserve hasn’t put you off too much.

“What would I even bring?” he wonders aloud.

All he’s ever listened to is 40’s music and big band. He doubts that’s readily available these days.

Rolling onto his side, he grabs the cell phone Steve had insisted he get before he went back in time to live his real life, without Bucky.

“You can do anything on here, Buck!”

Scrolling through the three contacts he has, he taps on the name of the guy who’s been trying to reach him for weeks.

“So, is there a valid reason why you haven’t picked up my damn calls?” Sam’s voice comes through.

“Sam, hi.”

“Did you finally learn how to click the screen? Is that why I’m hearing from you now, old man?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I just don’t like the thing. Too confusing,” Bucky says, grimacing as he fiddles with the phone.

“Okay, okay, what’s going on, man? You doing alright?”

“I’m fine. I just have a question and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t harass me about it.”

“Is it about wizards?”

“What?”

“Wizards. Is the question about wizards?”

“No, what the hell. Look, I had dinner with one of my neighbors tonight—”

“Was it a girl?”

“Does it matter?”

“Hell yes, it matters. And from that response, I KNOW it was a girl, so—”

“It doesn’t matter. She has a record player, which I didn’t know people still used, and she offered to let me use it, but I don’t have anything to play on it.”

“I’m not getting the problem.”

“I only like the stuff from the 40’s and—”

“Did you listen to that Marvin Gaye playlist I sent you?”

“Not interested.”

“C’mon, man, it’s good stuff. Give it a listen.”

“Not feeling it.”

“Alright, your loss, I guess. Still not seeing the problem though.”

“What do I bring? I can’t just bring around the stuff I know because where would I even get it?”

“Whoa, man, what do you mean, where would you get it? Just go to a record store and hit up the vintage section or something.”

Bucky pauses, mulling over Sam’s words.

“They have that?”

“Duh. You know, you could answer these questions a lot easier if you just looked them up on your phone—”

“Thanks, Sam. Talk to you later.”

Lying back down, Bucky decides that the next time he’s out to see his therapist, he’ll first stop by a record store to find something to bring over to your place.

Your easygoing presence was so comforting, and he found himself longing for it as he drifted off to sleep. He’d see you again soon enough.

Later in the week, as you wind down from a busy day, you focus on making your space as calming as possible.

You light some candles and turn on an orange floor lamp, the soft glow wrapping around you and setting the perfect mood to sink into your sofa with the book you’ve been neglecting.

You’ve just started settling into your reading when you’re jolted out of your half-nap by the sound of someone knocking on your door.

You get up and peer through the peephole, and there’s your dinner guest from earlier in the week.

Opening the door with a smile, you greet him.

“Hey James, unexpected visit! What’s up?”

His eyes linger on you for a moment before he speaks. You glance down and realize your outfit—shorts that really lived up to their name and a tank top—might not be the most guest-appropriate.

Brushing off your embarrassment, you look back up at him.

“I’ve got something I’d like to play, if that’s alright?”

Bucky’s mind races. Standing at your door, he worries maybe you only offered your place to be nice, and now he’s making a fool of himself. Of course, you didn’t want him there—he could barely talk.

Just as he’s about to get lost in his own head, your bright smile pulls him out of it.

“Oh my gosh, please, come in. What do you have?”

His doubt fades away as he sees your genuine excitement.

“Brought some Sinatra. Not sure if you’re into that, but I used to like his stuff when I was younger.”

You spin around abruptly, staring at him in disbelief.

“There’s no way you think I don’t know who Frank Sinatra is…”

Bucky stumbles over his words.

“Well, I mean, it’s not exactly new stuff so—”

“You think I wouldn’t know ‘Fly Me to the Moon’? ‘Singin’ in the Rain’? ‘New York, New York’? I mean, I even moved to New York—I had to get the romanticism from somewhere.”

“What are those?”

You pause, confused.

“Like, the most iconic Frank Sinatra songs. You are talking about Frank Sinatra, right? Not some other Sinatra I’ve never heard of?”

“No, you’re right, it’s Frank.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I guess I don’t know those ones.” He admits.

“So, what era are we talking about?” You ask, reaching for the record.

As you grasp the sleeve, you notice a glint of light catching James’s bare hand. Realizing he’s not wearing gloves, confusion sets in before it clicks. You HAD seen James before.

Looking up at him, he seems frozen, obviously panicking. He planned to tell you eventually, but not like this. Not when you weren’t close enough yet.

He thought there is no way you are going to want anything to do with him now.

You thought there is no way was there's an actual Avenger in your apartment right now.

You’re frozen, just like him, but more in shock rather than fear.

“Do you… usually go by James?” you ask cautiously.

Hesitating, he shakes his head.

“What do you usually go by then?”

Bucky feels anxiety creeping up his back. You’re both still holding the record, and he can’t tell if you’re scared or just surprised.

“Bucky.”

You stay silent for a moment while Bucky’s nerves are on edge.

“So… metal hand…”

Clenching his jaw, he replies, “Arm.”

“You’re that Bucky.”

“Yes.”

After a long pause, you start again.

“You’re an Avenger and you didn’t tell me?”

Bucky hesitates, his discomfort visible. “I’m— I’m not an Avenger.”

“What do you mean? You’re totally an Avenger! Why wouldn’t you tell me? How did I not recognize you before?” you ask, laughing in disbelief.

Bucky’s taken aback. You really thought he was an Avenger? You’re not scared of him at all, which surprises him. You must not know much about his past if you’re still standing this close.

“No wonder you don’t know ‘New York, New York,’” you say, almost to yourself. “It’s from after your time! This is crazy, I—”

You’re interrupted by his response.

“Are you not scared?”

“Of course not.”

Bucky closes in on himself, panic evident. “If you really knew me, you’d want nothing to do with me. I’ve—”

“I might not know the version of you you’re talking about, but I’ve met James, who helped me not once, but twice  carry stuff he definitely didn’t have to up the stairs, stayed for dinner, has been very polite to me, and has given me zero reasons to be scared of him.”

He looks at you, his piercing blue eyes revealing an internal struggle. That one look holds more weight than his words. You can see the battle within him, torn between his past and the present moment.

“Listen,” you say, finally letting go of the record, “if you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to. But I’m not scared of you, and I actually like your company. So, regardless of whether you’re James, Bucky, or whoever, you’re still welcome here.”

You pause, adding, “And we can still play this if you’d like.”

Bucky struggles with his inner turmoil. The idea that you know who he is but still want him around is foreign to him. He doesn’t feel worthy of the kindness you’re offering, but it’s been so long since he’s received such warmth that it’s almost impossible to turn it down.

He’s not comfortable with his identity or his past, but in this moment, he wants to push it aside. If you don’t care, maybe he can allow himself not to care, even if just for a bit. Maybe he can prove something to himself, or even his therapist.

Handing you the record, he relaxes his face slightly. You’ve always thought him handsome, but in the dim light of the dark room, he looks almost ethereal.

You’re hoping he believes you because your excitement for his company tonight feels more significant than it probably should, but you’re okay with that.

“I’m Bucky.”

You smile warmly at this change. “Alright, Bucky. What do you want to do?”

He gazes at you deeply, his look sending a shiver down your spine and warming your chest. “Play it.”

a/n: well, hope this was alright. as I mentioned before, ive never wrote fiction before, but ive definitely read enough to get the gist.

[neptuneiris]

Behind the Scenes (05/05)

Behind the Success

pairing: actor!aemond × fem!reader

summary: you and Aenar finally meet Aemond's family, closing one chapter of your life and starting a new one with Aemond in it.

word counter: 8.7k

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it's here!🥳

I've finally finished the chapter and I'm so excited for you guys to read this!

and how is it possible that another story is going to end soon? because if you didn't read my previous message, there will be an epilogue, so it's not yet the definitive goodbye for this little family we have created🤭

also before reading I want to thank you for your support and please leave me your opinion, lately the comments have gone down and I wish to read you🙏🏻

oh I also want to make a small clarification before you reed:

in the second chapter it is mentioned how aemond at the end confessed everything to his family in a desperate attempt to find Y/N. but let's forget that hehe🤭 let's pretend that aemond never told them so you can enjoy this chapter and the light drama you are about to read.

now read and enjoy, ily all!

warnings: slight angst, aemond's family melting our hearts when they meet aenar.

Aemond immerses himself in the world of acting with the same fierce dedication with which he confronts his characters on screen. Every move, every word, everything is carefully rehearsed and executed.

Each project is a challenge, an opportunity to explore new roles and demonstrate his versatility as an actor.

The hustle and bustle of the film set fills the air as he immerses himself in his role. The bright lights illuminate his face, conveying the intensity of his character as he delivers his lines with palpable emotion.

But when the bell rings, as well as the director's shout of "cut!" is heard, Aemond is Aemond again.

Behind all those shots, scenes, interviews and awards, no one knows that Aemond is a father, at least no one outside his close circle. He only confided the news to a few close co-workers, some production people and his older sister, Rhaenyra.

He managed to persuade some rumors after some people at first saw him entertaining Aenar in the nursery on the set, because even though there is nothing wrong with it and Aenar is his most precious treasure and a pride of his life, he knows it is better to protect him from the public eye.

And now that Aenar has his own nanny at home, sometimes even then the whispers would start to get too much and he would make sure that some member of the production crew, known for their ability to spread harmless gossip, would plant the idea that it was simply a close family friend of the child they had seen him with.

And in the midst of all his work and everything he has to do, Aemond finds the precious time to be with his son.

Aenar, a whirlwind of laughter and childlike energy, fills every space where the two are together with light. Games, stories and hugs become routine and Aemond cherishes every moment he can spend with him on his days off.

He even reduces his own working hours and focuses entirely on filming his scenes, also attending one or two interviews per month, in order to have more quality time with Aenar, who is more important than having to please the press at every moment.

And as he balances the intensity of the job with his responsibility as a father, Aemond fights for to rebuild the trust you once placed in him.

Every gesture, every conversation, was an effort to demonstrate that he is fully committed to getting things right this time. Every encounter with you, he demonstrates a quiet determination to making amends for past mistakes.

With carefully chosen words and acts of genuine support, he tries to show you that he understands the pain he had caused and is willing to go out of his way to regain your trust.

And you accept this, because you see how he makes an effort to open up more, to share his thoughts, his fears and his hopes. But above all, you see how he is making an effort with Aenar, which is the most important thing.

And you also see how parental responsibility has changed his perspective and maturity. But still, Aemond knows that rebuilding trust takes time and forgiveness is not something that can or should be rushed.

Even if you decide never to forgive him, he's okay with that and is getting the idea from now on that you only allow him to be close to you because of Aenar and only because of Aenar.

So in the meantime, you immerse yourself in your own workday.

The makeup and wardrobe trailer is a world of constant motion and productivity in any given area, though your mind is always on Aenar and also on Aemond.

And even though you both carry separate jobs at the same place during the day, you both manage to create a balance between your jobs and raising Aenar.

Evenings were for you and Aenar if Aemond didn't finish recording at the same time as your shift ends. And almost at dusk is when Aemond comes from work and devotes every minute of his free afternoon to Aenar.

Instead if you both finished your shifts at the same time, you both spent time together with Aenar.

However, the nights brought calm.

Once Aenar fell asleep and before Aemond retired, you and he find your own space to talk, share thoughts, talk about work or more importantly about Aenar. And today just happens to be one of those nights.

You finish cleaning the kitchen, while Aemond is sitting on one of the stools, with a cup of coffee in his hands, looking out the large windows to the back garden, thoughtful.

While he has in front of him the IPad with the image of the camera in Aenar's crib that records him sleeping, attentive and making sure he is well.

"I've been thinking a lot lately," he says, breaking the silence in a soft voice, catching your attention.

You watch him from the sink, setting a clean, dry dish in the drainer, then drying your hands with a clean cloth.

"About what?" you ask him softly, attentively.

And he takes a moment before answering, thinking very carefully about his words and what he means, not wanting you to misunderstand him in any way.

"On Aenar and... us."

He confesses and you lean on the other side of the island that separates you both in front of him, giving him your full attention.

"At first..." he starts to say, slightly flustered, "You didn't want me to hide him from the world and I-I... well, I obviously disagreed with you."

He says and bites the inside of his cheek, lowering his gaze, feeling embarrassed.

"But now... I think it's not fair to him that no one has any idea that I have a son. It's also not fair for anyone to know that you're the mother of my child."

His gaze again meets yours and a sense of understanding envelops both him and you.

"Now things have changed," Aemond continues, his tone laden with sincerity, "And I know that you and I are n-not together but... maybe... I can announce the news, only if you want me to."

Silence fills the kitchen in its entirety for a moment, as Aemond holds his breath at your possible response, honestly feeling terrified to expect a bad reaction from you.

But none of that crosses your mind, on the contrary, you just digest his words. But your silence is what causes a mixture of expectation and anxiety in Aemond, who holds his gaze with yours, nervous.

And finally, with a serene sigh, you go around the island that separates the two of you and approach him, placing one of your hands on his shoulder gently and in an attempt to comfort and reassure him, instantly feeling his whole figure tense, while he watches you with his big healthy wide eye and his prosthetic eye remains the same as always.

"Aemond," you begin to say in a soft voice as he watches you completely attentively, "I always wanted you to recognize Aenar publicly, that was what I wanted most at first. But now...

You pause for a moment, thinking about your meditated words, as you sink for a second into your own thoughts and what you really want to say, as Aemond watches you intently, waiting for you to continue.

"I understand your world more now," you continue, "And, honestly, I can't blame you for not agreeing with me back then, only in this," you make clear, "Recognize him legally would have been the right thing to do and... enough," you say holding back the sadness in your tone of voice.

But Aemond catches that break in your voice, a moment of your vulnerability that makes him feel a sharp, simmering ache in his chest, as if every word you utter drops a weight on his shoulders, with shame again invading him, but this time with a mixture of deep remorse and regret.

A barely audible sigh escapes his lips, lowering his gaze, ashamed, feeling the burden of his past choices and he wonders amidst the brief silence if he will ever be able to fully redeem with himself.

But he doesn't have much time to think about it, as you gently squeeze his shoulder to bring his attention back to you.

"And now I understand that the press and people's opinions can be very dangerous and destructive," you say softly, "And I don't want that for Aenar, at least I don't want to deal with that yet," you confess, "I want him to grow up a little more and we can both enjoy his early years without having to worry about it."

An expression of surprise and also longing crosses Aemond's face, still watching you intently, processing your words.

"Are you sure?"

You place a soft smile on your lips.

"Very," you assure, "I just want him to grow up in a calm and safe place, without falling fame on him nor all this attention being so young," you explain, "I have no problem with it, but also your opinion counts."

"No, I-I... I want the same for him too," he agrees with you, nodding, with all the pressure and anxiety he felt being replaced by a mixture of gratitude and relief.

And you nod back at him, smiling softly in his direction.

"But..." he says with a slight urgency in his gaze and concern in his tone, "I just want you to know that when the time comes, I won't do it for attention or to be relevant."

He says seriously, softly and honestly.

""I'll do it because I know it's something I have to do, for him and for you, as in the beginning maybe it should have been. But for now I just want us to enjoy these moments and, when the time is right, make that decision together."

The room fills with the honesty of his words and you can feel the sincerity in each of them, as a sense of calm envelops you both and you share a soft, complicit smile.

"Sure," you nod to him, feeling a warmth wrap itself all over your chest.

Your gaze moves away from his for a moment, focusing on the iPad screen where Aenar is shown sleeping, while Aemond can't help but focus on the features of your face with an intensity that can't go unnoticed by you.

Deep longing is reflected in his gaze, with a palpable mix of regret and sadness that is projected beyond mere facial expression. And he feel that weight on his body and chest again, a burden he can't help but feel.

His healthy eye glides over your face as if searching for answers in every line of expression and in his gaze, you can perceive the longing to repair the irremediable, the need to know how much he regrets the decisions of the past.

"Y/N-

He starts to want to say, his voice laden with regret, but you turn your gaze to him and stop him.

"Aemond, we have already talked about this."

"But I'm sorry... I really am," he insists, with pain in his gaze, "And I know an apology isn't going to fix it, I know that, neither is anything else but... I am really sorry and you don't know how much I hate myself for everything I put you through."

"No," you shake your head, "There's no need for you to keep apologizing," you tell him softly, "It won't do either of us any good to keep bringing up the mistakes of the past. Nor will it serve you to keep punishing yourself for what has already happened," you say as tactfully as you can.

His expression reflects a mixture of gratitude and frustration with yourself.

"Yes, I know, I understand," he murmurs, lowering his gaze, "It's just... I feel like I have to say it."

"Aemond, what matters now is this, how we move forward from here now that we've both learned and grown. Aenar too," you add, "And that's all that matters."

He nods slowly in your direction, his gaze showing a mixture of appreciation and relief, even with the remorse within him, as you both then sink into a moment of silence, letting the unspoken words echo in the air, but you both know those words, they just don't need to be said.

The relationship dynamic between you and Aemond since then takes a new path, a less tense, more bearable path of total trust. And this is not lost when the two of you are together in Aenar's presence.

Until one day, on your day off precisely, Aemond after work, comes to you telling you some unexpected news.

"I told them."

You turn fully towards him, giving him your full attention, understanding but at the same time not what he really means.

The living room starts to feel tense, while Aenar completely oblivious to it continues to play on the floor with his toys, but you focus on his gaze, where there is a charge of confession in his eye and you notice his whole body in a position of determination but also nervousness.

"Come, sit down," you tell him in a soft voice, pointing to the couch, while at the same time getting up from the floor to take a seat next to him.

And he almost with a defeated expression and posture, does as you say, letting out a sigh.

"What happened?" you ask, watching him intently.

He inhales deeply, looking at Aenar on the floor, who is the only one who can make him feel a little calmer, as well as your presence next to him.

"I told them about everything that happened," he confesses to you, "Our relationship, your pregnancy, my team, the decision I made in the beginning, everything I caused and how much I hurt you," he says as he feels his heart knot, "Everything. Everything that happened from then until now... and Aenar."

His words leave a weight in the air, as you anticipate how bad and difficult that conversation must have gone with his family to see him this way, so serious and tense.

"And how did they react?"

Aemond closes his eye, lowering his gaze, his posture reflecting the emotional baggage he carries with him and how bad it definitely went with it.

"Just as I expected. Obviously they were disappointed in me."

He says without much emotion, but with slight pain in his tone

"My grandfather couldn't believe it and was shouting how come I kept all that from them. Hel was very shocked, Aegon and Daeron too. And mother said a few hurtful things, started crying and telling me how I could keep these things from her," he exhales deeply, "Rhaenyra and Daemon were the ones who helped me calm things down a bit, but still my grandfather and mother were upset with her for knowing and not saying anything."

The tension of what happened feels palpable, as if he is reliving his family's every reaction, with the heaviness of disappointment and pain reflected in his expression, as you beside hom, share the weight of that difficult moment.

You are both silent for a moment, only hearing the sounds of Aenar playing with his toys.

"I'm sorry," you whisper in his direction, placing your hand on top of his, as if trying to somehow ease the pain he feels, "It must have been very difficult for you."

"No, Y/N," he observes you instantly, speaking to you in a soft tone, "You don't have to apologize. I deserved this and I'm not saying it to cause pity or play the victim," he adds with earnest sincerity, "I'm saying it because it's true. This is the least I deserve after everything you had to go through because of me."

You decide not to say anything at this, just offer him your silent support, while he again seems lost in his own thoughts for a few long seconds, where neither of you say anything.

When suddenly, Aenar emits an infectious giggle, instantly attracting both of your attention.

His small hands hold a toy with enthusiasm, his smile and the tenderness he conveys bringing brightness to the living room and the state Aemond is in, who smiles softly at the scene, watching him with complete adoration.

He sighs and rises from the couch, moving towards him, holding him gently, needing the sensation at that moment of holding him in his arms.

Aenar squeals with excitement and joy, placing his small arms on his chest, moving energetically in his arms, smiling big at him with his blue eyes completely filled with a glow.

The scene makes you smile softly, especially when Aemond also takes one of his toys and begins to play with it in his arms as he starts to walk slowly around the living room, talking to it in a honeyed tone and causing Aenar to babble incomprehensible words but full of happiness in his tone.

And when Aenar entertains himself with his father's silver hair, Aemond speaks again, turning to you to observe you.

"Despite everything, they want to meet him," he says, watching Aenar in his arms, "And they also want to meet you, my mother more than anyone else."

And this also completely grabs your attention.

"Really?"

"Hmm," he nods, "But I didn't tell them yes or no," he lets you know, "I wanted to consult it with you first."

"But is this good or not?" you ask, looking to find positivity in the situation, "Or do you think they shouldn't know him yet?"

"Of course they should," he tells you softly, "I owe this to them, also to you. But as I tell you, I didn't know how you would react if I told you they would meet him soon, I wanted to check with you first."

You place a reassuring smile in his direction.

"Aemond, for me it's perfect for Aenar to meet his grandmother, his uncles and aunts. It's a great opportunity and will definitely be good for him," you assure him.

"Yes, it is," he nods, unconsciously beginning to imagine the moment, "They can come or we can go to them, whichever you decide."

"Either way is fine with me," you shrug, "When might that be?"

Aemond thinks for a moment before answering.

"We could arrange it next weekend. Sounds good?"

You nod with a reassuring little smile.

"Sounds good."

The Targaryen—Hightower family decides to come to you.

When Aemond gives you the news, even though at first you were totally fine and had no problem with it, inevitably knowing it instantly makes you nervous.

You've never met his family before, not even when you and Aemond were a couple for obvious reasons. And even though his family isn't involved within the entertainment and film industry, you've still heard enough about them to feel slightly intimidated.

About Alicent Hightower, Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen more than anyone.

The uncertainty of how they will perceive you, especially after disappearing from Aemond's life without warning and also how they will treat you, that's what worries you the most.

But the fact that they will be coming to your house relieves you a little. Fortunately you won't be interacting with them in unfamiliar terrain and you're sure that the presence of Aenar, his toys and Aemond will go a long way to reassuring you.

"Do you need help?"

Aemond appears behind you, while you find yourself cleaning everything you can from your living room and Aenar, as usual, is sitting on the carpet with all his toys around him.

"I'm just cleaning up in here, then I'll go clean the kitchen."

"Don't worry, me and this little handsome will clean the kitchen."

He walks over to Aenar and takes him in his arms, who is already dressed in an outfit too cute for the occasion and smells like baby soap from the previous bath you gave him, ready to meet his family.

Aemond goes with him to the kitchen, sitting him in his perch, keeping an eye on him while at the same time starting to clean up.

You start moving some of Aenar's toys, organizing his play area a bit, to create a more orderly and cozy space in the living. You also mop the floor and arrange cushions.

Aemond washes a few dirty dishes and cleans all the shelves, also mops and spreads your favorite Lavender scent, which besides smelling amazing, calms your nerves.

You also ask him to help you tidy up the dining room while you clean the bathroom, wanting everything to look clean and spotless, while Aemond takes Aenar in his arms again to let him play in his play area and he watches him closely from that new distance.

"Maybe I should have cooked something?"

You walk over to him, slightly concerned.

"What? No," he turns to you, instantly, "Y/N, they're coming to meet Aenar, not to eat."

"I know, but..." you explain, nervously, "I thought maybe it would be a good idea to have something prepared, out of courtesy and.... I don't know. Won't it be rude of me if I don't have anything to offer them?"

"Of course not, you don't have to," he clarifies, more serious but with a soft tone, "If you want to have something prepared, let it be some drinks, nothing more."

Still you watch him hesitantly and worriedly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, very sure," he assures you, "In fact I'll prepare them. You rest and take care of Aenar. I'll finish cleaning up everything else."

"No, I-I-

"Rest," he repeats, interrupting you, placing a hand on your cheek gently, "I know this may be overwhelming, but they will come to meet Aenar and you too. And you don't have to put too much pressure on yourself. Everything will be fine."

Her warmth and understanding manage to comfort you a little, making you stop feeling so tense little by little.

"Now rest, okay?" he says softly to then walk past you and head towards the kitchen, not taking any argument back.

It's clear that he wants to lighten your load and make sure you feel comfortable about all this that's about to happen, with his actions conveying reassurance.

And finally after a while, you are ready and waiting in the living room with Aenar, playing with him, while Aemond is sitting on the single sofa and who a few minutes ago let you know that his family is on their way.

And after a few more long minutes, Aemond now lets you know that his family has already passed through the security gate that leads into the private neighborhood.

Knowing that fills you with nerves again, but Aenar's babbling as he hands you his currently favorite toys distracts you a bit.

"Are you okay?"

Aemond asks you from where he sits, watching you intently and noticing the tension all over your face and body, while you try to look completely calm and relaxed.

"Yeah, yeah, just... a little nervous," you say trying to place a genuine smile on your face as you distract yourself by touching Aenar's toys, "Who exactly is coming? Other than your mother and siblings," you can't help but ask.

"My grandfather."

You watch him expectantly, waiting for him to tell you more, but he doesn't.

"And that's everyone?"

"Well, Rhaenyra said my nephews wanted to come too, my uncle Daemon with his daughters too but I asked them to wait a little longer," he explains to you slightly concerned, "I didn't want you to feel nervous and overwhelmed if my whole family invaded your house. And Aenar sure would have felt scared too."

You bite the inside of your cheek and he rises from the couch to walk over to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, don't worry, okay? It's going to be fine. They're excited to meet you and Aenar."

You release a long breath through your nose, placing one of your hands on top of his, feeling your shoulders especially start to feel less tense.

"Yes... thank you," you tell him with gratitude in your gaze, appreciating his support.

And then the doorbell rings.

Aemond gives you one last reassuring glance, assuring you that everything will be fine, then turns and heads for the door to greet them, as you rise from the couch and take Aenar in your arms.

The tension in your shoulders gradually dissolves as you hold your baby in your arms, replaced by a sense of calm, as you watch the front door intently and finish mentally preparing yourself.

Aemond opens the door gently with a warm smile on his lips and the first to enter is his mother, Alicent Hightower, in a beautiful, elegant green dress, followed by who you assume is Otto Hightower, his grandfather.

His mother wraps her arms around him and leaves a loving kiss on his cheek which Aemond reciprocates, as he also greets his grandfather, who watches the entire interior of the house with an inspecting gaze.

Behind Otto enters Rhaenyra, who embraces Aemond.

"Thank you for coming," Aemond says to her, leaving a kiss on her cheek.

"Of course," she smiles at him, leaving a soft kiss on his cheek as well before pulling away from him.

"You guys too, thank you," she says to Aegon and the rest of her brothers, "Come on in."

Both brothers, Aegon and Daeron, embrace him, speaking words of assurance, leaving Helaena at last, who throws herself into his arms with obvious emotion, smiling with joy and longing, as Aemond leaves a kiss in her hair.

Then Aemond closes the door and before heading towards you, who are still standing very still near the couch with Aenar in his arms, his whole family finally notices you and especially the child in your arms.

"Thank you for coming, all of you," Aemond repeats as he turns to you, "Let me introduce you to Y/N," he points to you, "She works on the same recording set I am currently working on as well."

You put on the best friendly and kind smile possible, as Aemond takes Aenar in his arms so that you can meet his family. And the first to address you is Alicent, with her stunning elegance and a soft smile on a warm face.

"Nice to finally meet you, my dear. My son has spoken so much about you."

The tension almost completely leaves your body, feeling grateful and relieved by the welcoming tone of her voice, evaporating your fear about how everyone, especially her, would treat you.

"The pleasure is mine. I'm happy you're here."

You reach out your hand to her and, pleased, she takes it. But she takes you by surprise when she pulls you closer to her and wraps you in a gentle embrace, definitely not expecting that.

You freeze for a moment, then, a little hesitantly, return her embrace, grateful for the affectionate welcome. And when you both part, she has a smile that denotes sincerity and cordiality, then points you to Aemond's grandfather behind her.

"This is my father, Otto," Alicent introduces you as he watches you with an appraising expression, "He has also heard much about you and was very pleased to come here."

And though his look is somewhat... intimidating, you don't let that invade your nerves.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hightower," you tell him in a soft, polite voice, extending your hand to shake with his as well.

"The pleasure is mine, Y/N," he replies in a low, polite voice, shaking your hand briefly.

"And this is Rhaenyra," Alicent points you to the woman who is just as refined as she is and shares Aemond's same characteristic of silver hair, as do the rest of his siblings.

She smiles towards you and gracefully approaches, then embraces you in greeting mode, as does Alicent.

"It's nice to finally meet you," she tells you cheerfully, "Aemond told me so much about you and of course your little one," she tells you as she gives Aenar a loving look.

"The pleasure is all mine. Aemond also spoke a lot about you and was very excited to meet you," you tell her, as she holds your hands in a gentle grip.

"Well here we are," she tells you without wiping away her smile, then looks behind her, turning her attention to the rest of Aemond's siblings, "Oh and they are my siblings," she gestures you towards Aegon, Daeron and Helaena, who have friendly glances in your direction.

Aegon steps forward first, extending his hand.

"I am Aegon. I hope you're not feeling overwhelmed with so many silverheads invading your home."

"No, no, not at all," you laugh softly, taking his hand, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Aegon."

Daeron is next, greeting you with a friendly smile.

"Hello, nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Daeron. Aemond told us a lot about you and Aenar."

"Pleasure to meet you, Daeron," you say, noting the sincere camaraderie emanating from both brothers.

And finally, Helaena gives a few towards you, with an expression of pure excitement on her face and hugs you effusively.

"At last we meet!" she exclaims happily, "I was so excited to see you."

"Oh," you respond to her hug also a little surprised and with gratitude, "It's nice to meet you. Aemond has also told me a lot about you.".

"Good things, I hope," she says with a smile, pulling away from you.

And gosh, you can just see how much her sisters and brothers resemble Aemond. Their beauties are otherworldly and even Alicent is truly beautiful, as much as Rhaenyra is.

"And this..." begins to announce Aemond with Aenar in his arms and a radiant smile lighting up his face as he approaches the center of the living room, where his entire family watches him intently, "This is our son, Aenar," he says with pride in his voice, finally introducing his son.

Everyone's gaze focuses on the baby in Aemond's arms, who oblivious to the situation, watches them back with his huge bright blue eyes curious and expectant, while you place a small smile, anticipating the magical meeting of your little one with the rest of his family.

Helaena, visibly moved, can't hold back tears and tries to calm herself, with happiness, longing and nostalgia in her eyes. Aegon smiles with pride and Rhaenyra with adoration.

And meanwhile, Daeron, Otto and Alicent barely finish processing the reality of having Aenar in front of them.

Until Alicent steps forward gently, his eyes and gaze shining with curiosity, slight surprise, longing and adoration as he watches the little one, his newly presented grandson.

"Is that my grandson?" she murmurs in disbelief with tears beginning to form in her eyes and a hand on her chest.

Aemond, with a warm smile, nods at the question.

"Yes, Mom," he gently observes her and seeing her condition, looks at her with complete understanding, "Do you want to hold him?" he offers, carefully extending Aenar to her, sharing in the joy of her holding her grandson.

Alicent, tears streaming down her cheeks and visibly moved, nods in a touched nod with her gaze reflecting all her emotions, joy and awe.

She takes another step forward and reaches out her arms, where Aemond carefully places Aenar in her arms, who now watches him adoringly and with a mixture of happiness and emotion reflected in her gaze.

Alicent can't help but let out a couple more tears as Aenar babbles and watches her with great wonder, moving his small hands to her brown hair, starting to play with her curls, making her laugh softly in the midst of her tears and all the emotions she feels.

Aemond watches his mother tenderly as she enjoys her first encounter with her grandson, while you can't help but feel moved as well and wipe away a few tears that have escaped your eyes, watching the moment with emotion and nostalgia.

"My little Aenar," Alicent whispers, tenderly kissing his forehead, cradling him in her arms.

Aemond, still smiling and holding back his tears, diverts his gaze to you and you watch him back, where you both share a small smile and a silent complicity, both feeling the same way and recognizing the happiness this moment has brought to your lives.

And then Helaena approaches together with Daeron towards her mother, to watch Aenar and share the joy of the moment.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" comments Helaena, smiling, as Daeron watches him with a small smile of adoration and strokes his silver hair tenderly.

"Absolutely beautiful," whispers Alicent, her eyes shining with tenderness, not taking her eyes off him for a second.

"He's lovely," Rhaenyra comments with her soft little smile.

And then Alicent lifts his gaze to Aemond.

"And he looks exactly like you, darling," she tells him tenderly, recognizing the familiar features on Aenar's face and creating a moment full of emotion and family connection.

Aemond, touched and grateful, smiles at his mother's words.

"I think he has a little bit of both," Aemond replies, sharing a proud look with you.

Aenar physically by hair and eyes resembles Aemond, but some features of his face he definitely inherited from you and you can't help but smile in his direction.

And then, within the next few minutes, the whole family continues to make affectionate moments with Aenar. Helaena being the most excited is the one who now holds Aenar tenderly in her arms, leaving a couple of loving kisses on her cheek, while Rhaenyra approaches her to observe Aenar with a motherly gaze.

The imposing figure of Otto Hightower stands watching with satisfaction the scene unfolding in front of him, especially as he sees the happiness and excitement of Alicent and his grandchildren.

He doesn't say much, but his presence exudes a sense of quiet approval and though he doesn't show it, he honestly feels proud of Aemond, this reunion of his family and the arrival of a new member to it.

As Aegon approaches towards Aemond with a friendly, warm smile, placing a hand on his shoulder where he shares his gesture of brotherhood and pride.

"Congratulations, brother," he tells him sincerely, "He is beautiful and a mini version of you."

Aemond nods gratefully, the smile on his lips and places one of his hands on top of his.

"Thank you, brother. I appreciate it."

Now it is Daeron who takes Aenar in his arms and carries him to his play area, followed by Helaena, Rhaenyra, Alicent and you.

Helaena also takes a seat on the carpet with Alicent and the three of them start playing with him, who shows his enthusiasm and fills the living room with his giggles, melting the hearts of everyone present.

The atmosphere definitely becomes livelier and warmer, transforming into a special moment for everyone, where both you and Aenar feel completely comfortable and happy.

And as a few long minutes pass, Aemond watches all the interaction, happy and completely pleased, seeing how you converse with Rhaenyra and the rest of his family is totally entertained by Aenar.

Even his mother asks to have her picture taken with him and slowly begins to fill a new photo album of her grandson on her phone reel, completely enchanted with him.

Such a sight and such a moment couldn't make him happier, being a moment he needed so much and couldn't be more proud of. And how could he not?

His watching his son integrate into his family. And you are definitely getting along great with all of them.

Aegon stands by his side, sharing the gesture of complicity as they watch Helaena and Daeron make sounds with Aenar's toys that make him laugh and squeal with happiness.

Absolutely beautiful.

"So..." Aegon begins to say beside him, catching his attention, "You're going to show him to the world?"

He watches him intently, as Aemond holds his gaze for a second to look back at Aenar with an affectionate gaze, smiling softly.

"That's what Y/N would have wanted at first, when she got pregnant," he says softly, remembering those painful moments, "But no, at least not yet," he replies, turning his gaze back to his brother, "We talk and want to give him a normal childhood as much as possible."

Aegon nods with understanding, listening to him with full attention, then lets out a sigh, watching Aenar.

"The world is going to go mad when they find out, little brother," he says with an amused smile.

"I don't care," he says with a shrug, "All I care about is him."

Aegon smiles warmly again, acknowledging Aemond's priority as a father and he couldn't be prouder of him. He may be the older brother but Aemond...he's the one who matured first, always cleaning up his shit and making sure everyone was okay.

And even though when Aemond told them about this, about you and Aenar, it turned out to be a complete disaster, Aegon is glad that right now his family is responding in this way, loving you and Aenar.

"And what happened to Criston?"

He decides to ask you, curious and attentive, as Aemond takes a moment and exhales deeply, he too being a person who brings back horrible memories of the past.

"I fired him," he replies with a disinterested wave of his hand, "And his entire team too," he adds, "That's what I should have done in the beginning with him."

"And he threatened you?"

Aemond lets out an amused smile, remembering those days as well.

"Yes but I hired a lawyer and they made him sign a confidentiality sheet," he explains, "He couldn't do anything against that."

Aegon nods, pleased to hear those words, as you both turn your gaze back to the family, where Aenar's laughter still echoes throughout the living room, Aemond smiling lovingly as he watches his mother assail him with soft kisses.

Your soft laughter catches your attention as well, watching you with almost the same adoration and love as he watches Aenar, watching you converse with Rhaenyra where you both let out soft giggles at whatever it is you are talking about.

And he can't help but watch you extra longingly, wistfully, happily and longingly, loving to see the smile on your lips and the look of joy you have, his perfect and beautiful Y/N.

He honestly doesn't know what would have become of him if he had never seen you again. He'll probably still be sunk in his misery, regretful and trapped. But with each passing day he thanks the Gods for this, again and again, this second chance.

And Aegon doesn't take this unnoticed, the way his brother is looking at you.

"You really fucked things up with her, didn't you?"

His words break the spell he was under and he bites his lips, averting his gaze from you, beginning to feel ashamed and also with that guilt simmering in his chest.

"Yeah," he replies in a low murmur.

"You still love her."

Aegon tells him watching him intently with a complicity and understanding, not asking any questions, as he is making a statement, affirming it.

And Aemond again speaks the truth, neither denying it nor hiding it.

"Never stop doing so."

Aegon lets out a long breath, honestly feeling bad for him, to place his hand on his shoulder again.

"Brother, we all make mistakes," he tells him softly, "People fuck up and fuck up badly. I'm sure you get that from a person like me," he points to himself, still speaking in a serious tone, "And the important thing is to learn from them and move on. And I'm sure she's seen that in you."

"No, Aegon," he says softly, shaking his head, "What happened between us was different and... unforgivable," he says with the slight pain in his tone, "This is all happening only for Aenar and his well-being."

"So you don't plan to do anything about it?"

"I don't know," he says regretfully, letting out a sigh, "Things are complicated. And with everything that happened surely Y/N doesn't feel that way about me anymore. Besides what really matters is Aenar and I want to be a good father to him."

"I understand that, brother. But maybe all is not lost and all you need to do is try," he tells him in an encouraging tone, "Life is unpredictable, you know? And who knows... maybe Y/N still has feelings for you."

Aemond grimaces.

"I don't know, bro. I don't think so."

Aegon decides to say no more, just nods, for after all, he understands the complexity of his situation. And inevitably, though he shouldn't, with the words he has spoken to him, Aemond feels a small glimmer of hope.

Meanwhile the inside of your house continues to fill with laughter and conversation as everyone enjoys family time. And in the middle of it all, Alicent notices you going to the kitchen for a moment, this catching her attention and being the opportunity to talk to you.

So, giving her attention away from her grandson since she arrived, without saying anything to anyone, she discreetly follows you into the kitchen.

As she passes through the frame, she sees you arranging the drinks that Aemond prepared for them on a tray, wanting to offer them. But when Alicent's figure entering the kitchen catches your attention, you immediately turn to her.

"I don't intend to take up too much of your time, my dear," Alicent hastens to speak with a small smile on her lips.

"Oh, yeah, yeah," you nod immediately, "Do you need something?"

"I just want to talk to you," she answers you softly, "And it's nothing bad, I just... want to thank you for welcoming us into your home," she says, showing the sincerity in her look and tone, "I honestly haven't felt this happy in my life in a long time. And meeting Aenar has definitely made me very happy," she pauses a little, "Thank you."

"No, no, you don't have to thank me," you reply, with a soft look, "It's a pleasure to have all of you here. And you have made Aenar very happy too."

"No, I really do thank you," she insists with a soft tone, "Your home is beautiful and definitely an excellent place for Aenar to grow up."

"Oh, thank you," you smile kindly at her, "Actually this house was bought by Aemond. He must have told them or at least you, I suppose."

"Yes, he did," she nods, "He also told us how much you refused at first but I understand you. It must have been a very meaningful but very overwhelming gesture for you."

You nod with understanding, biting your lips.

"Yes," you murmur, "Yes it was. But I only accepted for Aenar," you hasten to clarify, "I didn't do it for my own convenience, whether for money or fame. I accepted for Aenar, so that he could have his father in his life and together give him the best."

"Yes, sweetheart," she advances towards you and takes your hands between her gently, "I know," she assures you, "You don't have to explain anything, everything is more than understandable."

You let out a long breath.

"Thank you," you tell her sincerely.

"It's okay," she smiles softly at you, "And listen, I-I... I really don't want to make you uncomfortable nor do I want to make you feel bad, in fact Aemond asked me not to talk to you about this but..." she looks at you with some tenderness and longing, "I just want to tell you how very brave you are, Y/N."

You shudder at the sweetness of her unexpected words, feeling a warmth run through your chest as a mixture of gratitude and longing flashes across your face, suddenly feeling completely vulnerable.

"I didn't blame you for deciding to run away, no one judges you for it."

She lets you know by telling you in a soft voice and as tactfully as possible.

"As much as I would have loved to have met you sooner, Aemond's decisions were terrible and I can't imagine everything you had to go through on your own," she says with slight shock and sadness, holding your hand tighter, "Your pregnancy, living in a new unfamiliar place and trying to make it on your own."

You bite your lips, feeling a sharp pain in your chest and tears begin to form in your eyes, but you gather your strength and try not to let them fall despite the memories of painful moments.

Her words resonate with genuine understanding and her warm touch brings you a comfort you didn't expect but definitely needed.

"Yes," you whisper, feeling the lump in your throat, "It was very scary and very difficult," you confess, "But Aenar made every sacrifice worth it."

"Of course," she murmurs, with a sympathetic look.

"Oh and... it must have been hard for you too," you say, remembering, "In those days seeing Aemond so sad and desperate must have worried you a lot. It even almost put in danger his career and you had no idea about me and what had happened."

"Yes, that was very scary too," she nods with a sad smile, "We didn't know what had happened, he pushed everyone away, even Helaena and... I couldn't stand to see him like that, but he wouldn't accept our help either," she explains, "But now, just like me, I've never seen Aemond so happy in his life."

Her tone is genuine and you hold her gaze with appreciation and understanding, feeling completely grateful for this pleasant acceptance and welcome by Aemond's family.

And in that moment you can feel, as Alicent does, how your connection grows stronger in your shared understanding of past challenges and new hope.

"You are a strong woman, Y/N. And I also want you to know that regardless of the circumstances between you and Aemond, I want you to know that you are part of our family now and we are here to support you."

You feel a happiness and relief course through your body, grateful for her words and her total understanding, as you nod in her direction.

"Thank you, Alicent."

And Alicent unable to contain herself, wraps you in a hug full of tenderness that you reciprocate, with the atmosphere filling with a sense of mutual acceptance and support.

And from there, the rest of the afternoon is spent sharing laughter and creating special memories.

Aegon plays with Aenar while Daeron and Helaena join in the fun, making your little one laugh with every quip and funny face that Aegon especially makes.

Alicent and Rhaenyra also join in, creating a connection with Aenar and showing him affection, while Aemond and you watch it all sitting together on the couch, each with a smile on your lips.

Until the visit comes to an end and the family says goodbye with expressions of gratitude and affection. Helaena is the one who insists on exchanging numbers to stay in touch, while she along with Alicent and Aegon promise to visit again soon.

It's a bit hard for Alicent to want to let go of Aenar, but eventually she does and then Aemond and you finish picking up and sorting all of Aenar's scattered toys.

Until it's also time for Aemond to leave.

"Thank you for this day. It was amazing and better than I could have hoped for. Even mom loves you more than she ever loved me."

You smile in his direction sincerely, laughing softly.

"It was nothing, Aemond. It was all very nice. Your family was very kind and Aenar had a great time."

"Yes," he murmurs as he watches his little boy adoringly and then turns his gaze back to you, "Still, thank you... for everything."

You see the intent in his gaze, also in his body, the way he fights it, catching your attention and being a bit amused at it, then moving towards him and wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him.

Surprised and definitely not expecting that, Aemond doesn't take long to reciprocate your embrace, a little hesitantly at first but he does, slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you close against him.

A sigh escapes his lips as he closes his eye, feeling that warmth in his body and that almost happiness at the sensation of having you close again.

He had missed it.

The embrace conveys a mutual support and understanding, also a kind of affection that Aemond can't quite decipher.

But honestly at that moment he doesn't mind and allows himself to enjoy and seize every moment of this feeling, knowing that he may not be able to have you again soon in this way, before you both part and he drives to his apartment.

Regular visits from the Aemond family to your home become a pleasant daily moment. Each encounter brings laughter, love and a sense of family unity.

Aenar, with his contagious laughter, becomes the center of attention, further strengthening family bonds.

The bond between Aenar and his relatives grows stronger over time, so his extended family becomes fully involved in his growth and development. Laughter and play fill the halls of your home, creating precious memories.

Eventually you also meet the rest of Aemond's family as well as Aenar, like Daemon Targaryen, who is definitely a bit more intimidating than Otto Hightower. But once Daemon feels confident, he's the coolest guy.

You also meet Aemond's cousins, the twins Baela and Rhaena, Daemon's daughters, who are extremely kind and sweet to you.

And you also meet Rhaenyra's sons, Jace, Luke and Joffrey, where eventually she also introduces you to her youngest children, Aegon and Viserys.

Your relationship with each member of the Targaryen-Hightower family develop into genuine friendships. Helaena, Rhaenyra and Alicent become confidants and allies to Aenar's shared upbringing.

The complicity between the women in the family is supportive and builds a safe and loving environment for Aenar and the rest of the children.

Until, on occasion, you decide to take Aenar to the majestic Targaryen-Hightower mansion. The incredible residence becomes a second home for him, who explores every corner with curiosity and becomes familiar with the new walls.

Aegon, as the older brother he is, becomes his second protective figure. Together they share adventures through the mansion's extensive gardens and enjoy playing with Legos blocks or his plastic carts.

With Helaena, she connects with Aenar through her charm and utterly beautiful aura, always playing with him, carrying him in her arms and telling him fantasy stories with gestures and figures.

And with Daeron, Aenar loves it when he watches his favorite cartoons with him. Also eventually Aenar becomes his weakness, as he always fills him with more toys and always thinks of him to give him everything that makes him happy, even food.

And when Aenar cries, Daeron is the first of the siblings to come to him, slightly concerned and immediately wanting to make him feel good.

Meanwhile, your relationship with Aemond, while not resuming the romance of the past, transforms into a serene, enjoyable and respectful one. Aenar's upbringing becomes the main point of building his future and lacking nothing.

Although memories of the painful past persist, both have learned to cope and accept it, in order to move forward.

And eventually, in a significant moment and one that lasted hours of conversation between Aemond and you, also one that was an arduous process of documentation and much waiting, a culmination of a stage of your life is realized that further solidifies the unique connection between Aenar, Aemond and you.

A recognition that brings with it a clear message of commitment and love for the future of your family. The significant moment when Aemond asks for your permission to legally recognize his child and you allow him to do so.

It was not something you had to think about too much, as Aemond has shown you so much and the emotion in his eyes through his tears when you said yes, only further confirmed the fact that you were not making a wrong decision.

And everyone in the family celebrates when Aemond's last name is added to your son's name and he is finally named Aenar Targaryen.

general taglist:

@imaegonstargaryenswife0 @bellstwd @gibbsgirl7 @toodlesxcuddles @imsoshygirl @croatianprincess @gemini-mama @a-little-roony-mara @mysteris-things @zenka69 @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @duds31 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @eternally-passionate @bellaisasleep @ttkttt @aemshaircare @mellowdreamlandpost-blog @noodle81937 @mooncalvin @queenofshinigamis @n4tforlife @vexladin @dixie-elocin @wotcherpeak @watercolorskyy @shiny-trashs-blog @strangersunghoon @elysian0612 @skzenhalove @iloveallmyboys @cakescupcakesminicookies

[lovecrime2]

Hannibal Lecter x Reader

summary: you begin therapy with Dr. Lecter, a man who you quickly learn much from. from his intellectuality, to the darkness hidden in the furthest parts of his mind, you become enraptured with him. will he feel the same about you? therapy sessions turn into exchanging books with notes, cooking together, and seeing more of each other in ways you both never thought possible. a love story.

authors note: hello!! this fic will have multiple chapters and i’m so excited to start this! it’s also on a03. and im creating a playlist for this!!

Chapter I: Prima

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“Dr. Lecter is ready to see you now, miss.” the polite receptionist says, with a smile sent your way. It’s no more than a flash of positivity before she turns back to her paper work, reflected by her thin framed glasses. As her eyes scanned over the work, turning back to frantically look over her desk, presumably searching for something, she gave off an obvious air of worry. Perhaps she was new.

You were too.

Your first day of therapy. Well, your first day of therapy with this new psychiatrist. It wasn’t something you were exactly frantically nervous about- as the poor polite receptionist was. You’d been to therapy before. You were accustomed to the shallow invasion and prodding of the mind. This time, your hope was that this new Dr. Lecter would be unique. Different.

You’d heard many good things about him. Ranging from his written work and studies, to his success with patients. And after the worsening state of your mind and the life you had built around you, you decided that it was time to try again. So far, you weren’t disappointed. The office was classy. Nice chairs were set in the waiting room, where you had sat for some time. There was tasteful art, quiet classical music in the background. Bach, you had guessed. Other than the receptionist, it had emitted an air of class and calmness.

You flashed a smile back at the receptionist, returning the politeness.

“Thank you very much,” you replied.

You weren’t sure if she heard given how diligently she was scanning her desk currently. But it was of no matter, you had been polite, it was the most you could do. You stepped up to a wooden door, unsure if you’d have to knock. Before you could, the door was opened, and Dr. Lecter was revealed to you.

He was handsome. You weren’t one to judge or weigh value off of looks, but you would give him that simple statement. Looks were not the most important thing to you, and you certainly were not meaning it in a romantic way. But he was handsome. The eyes that quickly met yours were brown, maybe with a hint of hazel. His hair was brown as well, it shone in the light from his office. He wore a navy blue plaid suit, giving him an obvious air of seriousness, of class and respect. His lips curled into a smile, and yours followed suit.

“Miss L/N, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” he spoke, his voice was rich and soothing.

“Dr. Lecter, I’ve heard many wonderful things about you and your work. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well.” you replied calmly, mirroring his niceties and charm. He had a quiet suave demeanor. As if on instinct, you both reached your hands out for a handshake. More niceties. This doctor was very formal. You appreciated that. As your hands touched you felt his eyes scan you quickly. Almost like an eagle searching a field for prey. Though, there wasn’t malice behind this look.

“Please, do come in.” he said, leading you into his large room. And what a large room it was.

It had a mostly grey color palette, with the exception of the one wall which was a dark red. To your right was a large wall, with two large red and white striped curtains. To your left, a desk, obviously a professional one. Lamps and books and art decorated the top. Further back to your left was another desk and a chair, but nothing was on this one. Behind that, a fireplace. The room was lined with cabinets and bookshelves, and art (specifically paintings) were anything but scarce. Right in front of you however, were two chairs facing each other. And there was a ladder, on the wall behind them, leading up to another level of the room. This one was lined with books of all shapes and sizes and colors. You took note of the other items in the room. Your eyes scanned from the couch against the back wall, to the couch in front of the windows. The room seemed lightly dull at first, but the more you gazed, the more points of color stood out to you.

After having visually scoured the room, you summarized that the collection of books, European furniture, and art was not simply the doing of the building’s hypothetical interior designer. By his outfit and the look of the room, Dr. Lecter was a man of intellectuality, power, curiosity, and ambition. He was impressive.

“Have a seat, Miss L/N.” he said, gesturing to the two seats in the middle of the room- each sat directly across from the other. Each had small tables next to them, but one had a book (presumably for taking notes on patients) and a box of tissues. You assumed the seat that the book and tissue box adorned table belonged to: was his. So you took the other seat, smoothing the bottom half of your clothing as you sat down. He took a seat across from you, crossing his legs and folding his hands neatly in his lap.

“I have no doubt you know why you’re here.” he said politely. He was direct, eyes still piercing into you. You were afraid to look away. You wanted to maintain the eye contact but at the same time, the socially nervous part of you longed to break it, longed to gaze around the sophisticated room instead of facing his perceptive gaze.

“Yes, Doctor.” you replied, finally working up the courage to break the mural stare and look down as you smiled at him. He returned a brief smile, and nodded once.

“So then, I hope you won’t mind if I list off the reasons you put for requesting my psychiatric assistance which led to us meeting today?” he inquired, taking his notebook from the small table next to him.

“Not at all, go ahead.” you gave him an encouraging nod and he opened his book. As he looked over a page, a realization came to you. You realized how intimate the placing of his chairs was. You mirrored him and put one leg over the other. You wondered if this was a tactic of his to create a sense of connection, equality. Interesting.

“You have emotional regulation issues, accompanied by social anxiety. Past traumas, which I’m sure are accompanied by self-image problems, am I correct?” he asked at the end of his statement.

“Yes,” you said, pausing a moment. There was some more, but this was only the first session. You hated the way it sounded so labeled when it was later out like that, so shallow. Realizing your answer might’ve seemed curt, you rushed to say more. “Yes, that’s all correct.”

He set his book down on the side table and looked at you for a moment. The thought crossed your mind that he might be waiting for you to speak, you were about to say something when he spoke at last.

“How do you feel right now, at this very particular moment, Miss L/N?” he asked you, eyes endlessly boring into you.

“I feel,” you hesitated, trying to come up with the right words. “Comfortable and welcomed. Yet nervous.”

“I’m glad you feel comfortable and welcomed, I try to provide sufficient hospitality for those in my care. Though, tell me, why do you feel nervous?” he asked.

“I’ve just met someone new. Someone who will be peering into my mind, learning the most personal parts of me. It’s an odd thought that a man I met a few minutes ago will come to know my mind so deeply.” you replied, watching Hannibal process your answer. He had a good poker face.

“Are you afraid of what I might uncover in the depths of your mind?” he asked.

“I think everyone’s a little afraid of what can be perceived in the most personal parts of their mentality. We all have only so much we express. To the eye it may seem to show enough, but there’s so much hidden where we store our deepest thoughts.” you replied. You liked the knowledgeable banter.

“Knowing those parts of you is a fundamental aspect to your treatment, as it is to any patient. I am not here to judge, or to exploit. I am here to come to know your being and attempt to help it in a way that is beneficial to your mental well-being.” he replied.

“You make a good point, Doctor.” you replied, flashing him a smile. He returned it, and opened his book.

“Well then, shall we begin?” he asked, his eyes still focused on yours.

“Of course.” you replied.

And so began your session with Hannibal Lecter, your new psychiatrist.

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[kaiser1ns]

KIKI'S CHARACTER ANALYSIS ON TAKIISHI CHIKA

BEFORE PROCEEDING TO READ i want to clarify that this is my opinion and my take on his character before we get to know more about him in the manga. i know that the way i write about him is not what he really is, and that can cause conflicts but i am trying my best! contains small spoilers ahead! anyway hope you will enjoy!

Written on August 9th 2024. Posted on August 10th 2024. Edited on

Takiishi Chika is expressive only when he wants to be, but most of the time he is with that bored expression making it look like he is some kind of robot or haunted doll. As already known his face changes when he feels anger or when he fights with someone at his level or higher, it's when he gets happy and excited, because there is someone who will not bore him and keep up with the adrenaline.

He will not listen to anyone in whom he finds no interest. People can talk to him, but he will pay no attention to them. He will listen, catch a sentence here and there, and when someone mentions something that intrudes on him, he will listen without hesitation wanting to know more.

Strikes me as a type who is also very observant. Not only in a fight but when around people in a calm setting. Also intelligent, may not show it because he acts on impulse but everything is calculated.

Likes to light up fireworks when there's nothing better to do or people to fight. It's nice and something he can do on his own.

He likes to sit on the rooftop of buildings and look down on everything and everyone, either enjoying the view or the feeling of power. We again don't know why. But in Chapter 134: The Moment Longed For, when Endo Yamato receives a punch to his face because he stopped Chika's sudden charge at Umeniya, the conversation goes as such "But hey, Umemiya told us to go to the roof with him. It's been ages since we have been there. You like the roof don't you?" and then Chika freezes agreeing with what Edno said "Right. That's true." Then he walks past Umemiya telling him to go there, leaving everyone behind.

The question here is why Chika likes roofs so much, and what exactly does Furin's rooftop that Umemiya wants to show him? My mind directly goes to the garden. Is it to see one's growth despite its roots? What if Chika used to take care of the garden too? I know, it's a laughable idea and seems impossible but what if? So many questions, but not many answers. This is normal, seeing as how their battle is just beginning and the characters' internal and external conflicts are yet to emerge.

As stated, he is violent and short-tempered, he would never let anyone or anything block him from doing what he wants, it doesn't matter if it was a friend or an enemy. He is capable of destroying everything in his path. But personally, I think he won't hit someone if there's no reason to or if he isn't provoked in some way.

He doesn't care about the others, he only cares for himself and his enjoyment.

Of course, he knows many people and many people know him. But he isn't close with anyone besides Endo Yamato, even if they are childhood friends and their friendship is weird, Chika just lets Endo do whatever he wants — buy him clothes, paint his nails, find him opponents. He probably never asked for him to do such things but Chika knows how devoted the tattooed fool is to him, and so he played along. That leads me to a theory that he was spoiled as a child, that's why he doesn't question Endo, because he is used to getting what he wants and if something goes in his way, he will eliminate it.

Endo stated that Takiishi "began to fizzle out when he left Furin" meaning he was slowly losing his spark and maybe fighting out of boredom and not excitement. Chika is "The Strongest Man in Furin History". Probably in his first year, there wasn't anyone worthy enough to keep up with his pace and cause that fervor to ignite his flames.

Two years later when he dropped out of Furin Highschool he became a shadow and it was a few in the school who knew the truth about him, including Umemiya, the person Chika probably wanted to fight from the start.

In Chapter 142: Revelation, we see Takiishi in Endo's memories, and he has always been so aggressive towards the world, but unfortunately, we still don't know the reason why — perhaps a family conflict that indicates him being abused as a child; himself being bullied and then turning into a bully, or he was a prodigy too doing everything before other kids his age making him develop faster and he took advantage of that. So many theories. Hope we know in the future! [this part will be edited once his backstory is out]

God complex which may also be associated with mania or a superiority complex. Someone with a god complex may exhibit no regard for the conventions and demands of society and may request special consideration or privileges. GD is linked to Narcissistic personality disorder (NPD) with a diminished ability to empathize with other people's feelings. Even tho we don't see Takiishi being 'in love' with himself, he only cares about himself, and thus I will say he is probably narcissistic but not to such an extent.

But here I think the right word which should be used is Egoist — a self-centered, selfish person or arrogantly conceited person. Egoism comes in different forms as there are several reasons as to why someone may act in their own self-interest, such as ethics or rationality. The three main types of egoism are physical egoism, ethical egoism and rational egoism.

1. Physical Egoism

This type of egoism refers to the basic, instinctual drive for self-preservation and personal survival. It is often associated with natural instincts and physical needs, such as hunger, thirst, and the avoidance of pain. Physical egoism emphasizes the inherent tendency of living beings to prioritize their own physical well-being and survival above all else. In this view, self-interest is rooted in biological imperatives.

2. Ethical Egoism

Ethical egoism is a normative theory that suggests some individuals act in their own self-interest. It is a prescriptive approach, meaning it provides guidance on how people should behave. Ethical egoism posits that morally right actions are those that maximize one's own welfare. Unlike physical egoism, which is based on natural instincts, ethical egoism is a philosophical stance arguing that self-interest should be the guiding principle of moral decision-making.

3. Rational Egoism

Rational egoism posits that it is rational for individuals to act in their own self-interest because doing so leads to the best outcomes for themselves. This form of egoism is based on the idea that reason, rather than mere instinct or moral obligation, should guide self-interested behavior. Rational egoism suggests that acting in one's own long-term interest is not only logical but also the most reasonable course of action for achieving happiness and success. It often involves considering the consequences of actions and making choices that best serve one's goals in a rational, calculated manner.

In conclusion:

Takiishi Chika is impulsive, violent, and primarily concerned with his own physical needs and desires, aligning most closely with physical egoism. He doesn't seem to consider the long-term consequences of his actions, nor does he follow a moral code that dictates acting in his self-interest in a socially constructive way, which would be characteristic of ethical or rational egoism.

The behavior could be indicative of several potential mental health conditions or personality disorders, but it's important to note that diagnosing someone, especially when a real person requires a qualified mental health professional. However, I am not a professional and I am doing this only for my entertainment in the fictional world. There are a few possibilities that might align with the characteristics of Takiishi Chika.

1. Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD):

Individuals with ASPD often exhibit a disregard for the rights of others, lack of empathy, and can be prone to aggressive, violent behavior. They may engage in fights, show little concern for the safety or feelings of others, and may be manipulative or deceitful.

2. Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD):

While not always violent, people with BPD may experience intense emotional reactions, including anger and aggression. They can also have a pattern of unstable relationships, self-harming behaviors, and fear of abandonment, which might be linked to masochistic tendencies.

3. Intermittent Explosive Disorder (IED):

This disorder is characterized by sudden, explosive outbursts of anger or violence that are disproportionate to the situation. The person might feel a sense of relief after the outburst but may also feel remorse or regret later.

4. Sadistic Personality Disorder:

Although not recognized in the DSM-5, some traits could align with what was previously considered Sadistic Personality Disorder. This involves deriving pleasure from the suffering of others, which could explain sadistic tendencies.

Chika's behaviour is explosive or volatile sadism. This type of sadism is characterized by sudden outbursts of aggression and violence, often triggered by frustration or when the person feels someone is in their way. Individuals with this type of sadism tend to lack empathy, and their violent behavior can be unpredictable and intense.

In addition, his potential sadomasochistic tendencies suggest he might derive some pleasure from both inflicting pain on others (sadism) and experiencing pain themselves (masochism). This combination can make his behavior particularly volatile, as he may be drawn to situations that allows him to express both these desires.

5. Conduct Disorder (in younger individuals):

If the individual is younger, this could be a sign of Conduct Disorder, characterized by aggressive behavior, a lack of empathy, and a disregard for rules or the rights of others. This condition in youth can sometimes progress to Antisocial Personality Disorder in adulthood.

6. Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD):

While not typically associated with overt physical violence, individuals with NPD can display aggression when their ego is threatened. They may lack empathy and be manipulative or exploitative in relationships, only caring about others when it benefits them.

7. Psychopathy:

A more severe form of ASPD, psychopathy involves a profound lack of empathy, superficial charm, and often a tendency toward manipulative and violent behavior. Sadistic tendencies may also be present.

8. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD):

Individuals with PTSD may experience anger as a response to trauma reminders or as part of the hyperarousal symptoms. Irritability and angry outbursts. Feeling constantly on edge or easily startled.

PTSD develops after exposure to a traumatic event, and anger can be a coping mechanism or reaction to perceived threats.

9. Trauma and Childhood Experiences:

Anger issues can also stem from unresolved trauma, especially if it occurred during childhood. People who have experienced abuse, neglect, or abandonment may develop anger as a defense mechanism. Difficulty trusting others, leading to anger in relationships. Feeling easily threatened or provoked. Chronic irritability or anger without a clear cause.

This is all I can think of when I did my research. Chika definitely has something traumatic happened to him or he was someone's trauma.

But there can be a scenario with him just being born like that even if love and kindness were shown to him. We will know more once Satoru Nii drops his full backstory like he did with Endo and Umemiya.

TAKIISHI CHIKA'S CHARACTER IN MY WRITING STYLE

I don't want to make him too out of character for the sake of the people who like or will like him, as I want them to have the best experience while reading any of my works that includes him.

In many of my drabbles readers will get to see him being more soft towards the female character or his girlfriend as stated in the most scenarios. He is being vulnerable towards you. It is simply the way I imagine him when he gets to like someone who catches his attention: he wants to know everything, is being possessive, is more expressive, making space in his heart only for you, though his ego and pride would no go down but instead they will go up because he has something the others don't.

As I stated earlier, he will not listen or look at anyone in whom he finds no interest. That being said, and as a cliché as it sounds, you are different, he wants to have you to either a) play with you until you break or b) learn about the way you are making him feel, because his heartbeat only rises when he fights.

When Takiishi Chika learns to love, or at least tries, he realizes that he can tolerate people who get in his way, meaning he tolerates you and is extremely important for him to see you everyday. And if his nonchalant behaviour is due to a trauma, you are his free therapy.

I saw people who think he doesn't talk much, again he does, he chose to who, how and when. Even if it's one word, sentence or a punch, he will talk.

In my opinion the way he loves is unique, everyone has their own way to express their longing for the other. He doesn't know what love is, its a new term in his vocabulary, and you teach him the ways of being soft and tender.

He is protective of you, very fond by the way you show him how to do things and he acts on instinct. If he wants a kiss, he will get one no matter what. If he wants get intimate or just to initiate a physical touch, he without thinking twice would. Takiishi Chika is not a person who waits, unless necessary, because when he wants something he will make sure to have it. If he wants you he will get you. He is the living prime of "If he wanted, he would."

But then again he has another dark, manipulative and toxic side. Again he is not good or used to expressing his emotions that well, if he wanted to hurt you, unintentionally or not, he would. I know I'm repeating myself a lot with words, but it's true. Was it with a real or non-existent person, if they wanted to, they would do anything to or for you.

This is mostly what I have to say about him, in hopes of your understanding and if you got to the end of this long post, thank you! Takiishi Chika is not that complex of a character, he is pretty easy to understand in my opinion, as long you want to do it.

But it's my profile, my own way to express myself amd how i view a certain character. I would be happy if someone wants to discuss further issues with our blazing inferno Chika <3

And as the manga will continue and more will be understood, I will give it my best to describe and write not only about Chika, but also about all the other characters. I hope this was a hopeful guide to answer questions if you even had one.

Thank you Chika nation for the support, and thank you for reading and following through my writing journey! More is yet to come (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

[awkward-halfhug]

probably not the best sedative | eleventh doctor x reader

summary: insomnia leads the Doctor to daydreaming. He figures he should stick to counting sheep, but quickly finds out how wrong he is

chapter 1 2 3 4 5

contents: fluff, daydreaming

(also on my ao3)

0.7k

The Doctor heaves an almighty sigh as he once again adjusts his position on his favorite couch in the library. He is not tired in the least and he doesn't need nearly as much sleep as humans, as he told you earlier. You weren't hearing any of it, say you don't believe him but even if it is true, he does still need some rest, especially after your most recent adventure.

So here he is, not sleeping. Because he's not tired.

The Doctor takes a deep breath and closes his eyes; hopes thinking about something nice will lull him to unconsciousness.

He's wrong, of course. But he's always got some excuse to think about you. Because you're the nicest thing he's ever met-- and he's met a lot of things.

Your laugh is nice. You've got around 15 different laughs and he's always surprised when you invent a new one. But whether it's a light giggle or a hearty guffaw or some sort of animal noise he can’t identify, it makes him laugh along with you.

Your smile is nice. It's always so earnest and hopeful. The kind of hopeful the Doctor searches galaxies to find, and when he does, he makes sure to grab on tight and never let go.

Your heart is nice. The Doctor is pretty sure if he could run a scanner over your heart it would, in fact, read 100% nice. Actually, it would read 100% kind. Your explanation of the difference still rings in his ears. "Being nice is a natural automatic kind of thing. Kindness you do on purpose." And if that doesn't just sum you up.

Your words are nice. Usually. Sometimes, the Doctor has to admit, he pushes your buttons a little too hard. Which sounds awful since, as he's established you're the nicest person in the universe. But it is just too hard to resist at times. Winding you up just tight enough that you won't break, because when you unravel it sure is a sight to see. He loves hearing your honey-tipped tongue tinged with just a bit of poison. Your clever mind set to work on painting him a colorful picture of exactly why he's wrong, or insensitive, or mean. Afterwards, you'll splutter a mortified apology. Adorable.

Your hands are nice. You have the lightest touch, treating each and every life form they encountered with dignity and reverence. You have the remarkable ability to make others feel important, without even saying a word. The Doctor will be off giving some speech about his own brilliance or chastising some group of careless idiots, and you, his kind, gentle companion will be calming the locals he's forgotten about. Consoling a mother. Holding a child's hand. Reaching out for his.

Nice doesn't seem a strong enough word to describe your eyes. They're warm, so warm. Warm enough to chase away the lonely on even his worst nights. He'll look into them and somehow feel understood and comforted and reassured all at once. Even though he's over a thousand years old and you're in the first few decades of your life. Your eyes hold such empathy and wisdom and emotional depth, sometimes it takes him aback and he has to look somewhere else in case you actually can read his mind.

And then they twinkle when you smile, laughing because he's blushing.

And when you're angry. Well.

It's supposed to send a chill up his spine when your pretty eyes turn icy enough to freeze him in place. He's supposed to feel regret, or fear, or remorse. But all he can ever feel is excitement. A little twitch in his fingers, a buzz on his skin, and increased heart rates--but never regret. So if he earns himself the title 'insufferable' more often than not these days, the Doctor will inform anyone that asks, it is your fault, not his.

Your lips are--

The Doctor decides at this point that thinking about his companion is actually probably not the best sedative he could've tried. And also that sleep is pretty overrated in the grand scheme of things. He'll earn himself a look of disapproval and possibly you might not bake him those biscuits he was rather hoping for. But it's your fault he can't sleep anyway.

And actually, he forgot to mention to you, funny thing about Time Lords, they're social sleepers. Like cats really.

The Doctor decides right now is as good a time as any to impart to you that special Time Lord fun fact he just remembered.

And so he sets off to do just that.

thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging/commenting, it means a lot! ♡

[carmenized-onions]

Doing Too Much. | House Call

logline; Appliances can reach their breaking point, when you push them too far. Same goes for people.

[!!!] series history, this is the sixth; First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth

[New Thing!!] Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin' added to.

portion; 4.8k

possible allergies; eatin' meat, besides that, we're pretty good actually. did somebody say calm before the storm....?

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (no pronouns, but girl is said a couple times, i believe.)

After this chapter, I'm entering my era of couch hopping as I move to a new city n start a new job. I'm really excited for the chapter after this one, so hopefully I actually get time to write it-- But that's just my lil warning if you're left rereading for like two weeks </3 But I'll def be stalking my activity/inbox so please do yap to me

Monday morning. The next morning after everything. Well, closer to noon than morning, at this point. You’re supposed to have, what, a work ethic this week? After the most insane weekend of your life? No. You’re lazing around and doing fuck all. No matter who calls. Well… Not completely no matter, but like, most people.

When you check your phone, you’ve gotten a text at 6:43 A.M. Unknown number. Ah. Carmen. You put him in as Carmy, and put his nickname as ‘Mister New York’. Listen, old nicknames Mikey ingrained in your brain die hard.

It’s a simple text, deeply un-romantic.

‘Connections Puzzle #342’

Then, four lines of four perfect categories. Flawless. Purple first, even. The hardest category. And then,

‘Morning’

Stupid. Incredibly stupid, to be enamoured, by this. You reply,

‘Good morning!’

‘Connections Puzzle #342’

And then a failed jumble of coloured squares, you get one out of four categories. What the fuck is 'dogleg' and since when has it meant taking a sharp turn? You follow that up with,

‘Fuck you.’

Aside from Carmen, you’ve actually gotten texts from a couple people. Your boss at Eden’s asking if you’re alright. What the fuck did Cicero say? Oh well. You tell him you’ve ‘been better, been worse. Will be okay by next week.’ Perfectly vague, and you still get wired your cheque and tip out. Alright, maybe Uncle J does deserve your free labour.

Speaking of, the next text on your itinerary is from Uncle J, just info for the winter nuptials of Vinnie and Mira. Oh yeah. Three-hundred guests, you remember that part. You also remember him saying it’d be an ‘easy gig’… He did not mention you’d be the only bartender. This is going to be a nightmare. Oh well. You text back that despite it being an open bar you get to put out a tip jar. He just reacts to it, ‘haha’. That sounds like a yes to you.

And then, adorably, a selfie from Syd, wearing the collar and pins you’ve gifted her, under a green sweater. Cutie. You hype her up accordingly.

Besides some texting though, Monday is relatively unbusy. No calls. No emergencies. No businesses knocking down your door for your services. You’re thankful for a break, letting the inertia set in, finally being able to relax after fix after fix after—

Tuesday comes, you get sent another perfect round of New York Time’s Connections around half past six in the morning, along with a good morning text. And again, you fuck it up. You send him your Wordle results this time, as an act of rebellion. You then ask,

‘How’s reworking the menu going?’

‘Hard to say’

‘Ask me tomorrow’

God he’s an awful texter. Horrifically dry. You know you’re down bad beyond a belief when you find that endearing. You spend Tuesday drowning and pruning your plants after depriving them for so long.

Plus working on your art piece for Carmy. You’re pulling out old film photos, a canvas, and a load of bleach—It’s like high school art class all over again— Surprise surprise, the handyman who loves to up-cycle is a mixed media artist. Who could’ve guessed?

While trimming a photo, an exterior of The Beef, a picture frame on your wall falls down behind you, you tut, turning your head to it, chastising the air. “Mikey! It’s a copy, relax! I’ve still got the original print…”

There’s every chance you’re insane— No, you’re definitely insane. But you’re allowed to be, your best friend died, you’re allowed to talk to the air as if he’s still around. Sometimes the timing of doors swinging open for you and things falling down are just too uncanny to not be a ghost.

Wednesday arrives, and again, just after 6:40, Connections results. And the Wordle, this time; plus a ‘Good Morning’. It looks like this is simply just your thing, now. Every morning, the second both of you get up, you send each other puzzles and wish a good morning. You don’t mind that. It’s nice to have a ‘thing’, with someone. With Carmen.

Part way through the day, around two o’clock, you get another text. Two, actually. From Carmen, in quick succession.

‘Are you busy?’

‘Don’t worry if you’re busy. Can call Fak’

You’re quick to reply, frankly deeply offended.

‘Are you fucking firing me????’

‘I’m gonna get ready. Text me details’

While getting dressed, you watch three dots bubble, bubble, bubble… He’s taking forever, just don’t look at it, you’ll get anxious for no reason. No jumpsuit today, you’ve got to switch it up every now and again. Navy cargo pants with the perfect number of pockets and zippers, and an orange Chicago’s Kindest shirt, tucked in. Hm. Looking in the mirror, hickey is still there. Lighter, but there. Foundation? No. You’ll sweat it off and that’ll just bring up more questions. If Syd asks you’ll just tell her you fell down the stairs… On your neck. She's not the type to confront anything remotely sexual anyways.

Speaking of Syd, before Carmen can text you back, she calls you, which is fair— Don’t leave a Carmen to communicate. You stick your phone in the crux of your neck and answer while you pack your utility belt. This feels nearly nostalgic. “What’s fucked?”

Carmen is in the background; you can hear the tail end of a sentence, grumbling. “—Don’t call—”

“My life.” She responds without missing a beat. “And also, Carmy’s stove and oven.”

“Oh.” You squint. “What the fuck happened?”

“Overuse? I actually don’t fucking know, it just stopped working. We plugged it in and out— He even reset his apartment’s breakers. I dunno what’s wrong with it. It’s probably got something to do with him putting his fuckin’ jeans in there.”

“…He what?”

You can hear him in the background, again, clearer this time, grimacing, “What are you doing to me?”

Syd does not mind him at all, continuing, “I know! He’s fucking weird!”

“He’s extremely weird.” You like him a lot. “I’ll be over soon, were you guys like, mid-cooking?”

“Yessir.”

“Christ, alright… I think I have a dual burner hot plate laying around somewhere, you want me to bring it—”

They both speak clearly this time, together, “Please.”

You’ve got a pile of things to give to them anyways, and maybe you miss Carmy’s face. Just a little.

Instead of just buzzing you in, Carmy comes down for you. When he sees you through the door window, carrying a cardboard box, he almost breaks into a full run. He’s somehow opening the door, grabbing the box from your hands, and chastising you all at the same time. “You should’ve left it in the car, I would’ve—”

You step in through the entryway and kiss his cheek, cutting him short. You can’t help yourself, it’s the first time you’ve seen him since and you feel like a giddy teen. The teenage girl in your head is no longer just in your head, she’s fully manning the station. “You’re very sweet. But it’s also not heavy.”

When he continues to be frozen, the regret starts to mount, “Is—Sorry, is that okay to do—?”

“It’s very okay to do.” He manages to reply, with haste. Nodding to himself. “It’s good.” He nods again, then marches off, expecting you to follow to the elevator. You do.

“What floor?”

“Eighth.” He sniffs; you press the button. He stands next to you, looking you up and down. He astutely observes. “Orange.”

“Yeah.” You smirk, looking back at him, “Turns out, businesses can have two colours in their designs.”

What’s a little roasting of fellow small businesses between two not just friends?

“Oh yeah?” Coy, smirking. Oh no. You’ve gotta get the teen off the controls. He tilts his vision to stare at your jacket. Ah. You opted to wear your Carhartt instead of his jean jacket.

“Didn’t wanna give Syd more questions.” She already guessed you’re a sugar baby, you don’t want to wrap Carmen in on that too. Especially since ideally in a month or two he’ll be your boss. Hm. The Bear is going to need an HR.

He hums, nodding. “We’re not telling Syd?”

“What’s there to tell?” You grin, crossing your arms. “You suddenly have free time, Bear?”

He takes a beat, thinking, then just takes a deep frustrated yet amused exhale. “I’m gonna fuckin’…” He can’t think of a threat. “…Get you.”

You snort, “You’re gonna get me?”

“Fuck you—!” “You’re gonna fuckin’ get me, Bear?”

“I—” He tries to hold a straight face, it doesn’t work. “Yeah, I am.”

“Can’t wait.” You nod, grinning, turning back to the doors. “You told me to ask how menu’s going tomorrow.”

“I did.”

“It’s tomorrow.” The door dings, opening on the eighth floor; you step out together. He switches his grip to hold the box in one arm. Alright Biceps, we don’t need to brag here...

“It’s… We’re getting there.” He grimaces. “Syd’s recipes are always… Almost perfect.”

“Ah.” You nod, you know your friend well enough to know where this is going. “And she fucks up one thing hard?”

“Mhm.”

“And when you tell her it’s okay and give her a hand she just feels worse?”

He nods. A touch surprised you’re right on the dot so quickly. “Everything ends up perfect, but I think she’s finding the edits…”

“Demoralizing.” You walk down the hall together, he nods. “I know what she needs, I’ll find an in.”

“You always do.” He hums, you walk just a touch ahead of him, unknowingly walking past his door. He pulls you back by the back of your jacket, making you stumble back into him. This seems to be this villain’s intention; as when you turn around, he’s quick to grab your chin and kiss you.

“It’s very good.” He emphasizes, again, before opening his door and acting like everything’s totally normal and fine. Since when did he turn the tables and make you the desperate one? Son of a bitch.

Ah. Actually, subtract any attraction you had in this moment— He lives like this? Books on the floor, by the window. Jeans on the dinner table, because they were in the oven. The kitchen actually looks alright— You’re almost certain that’s purely for utilitarian purposes while they’re working on the menu. This motherfucker better have a bed frame or him asking you to sleep over would be downright offensive. God, he’s wonderful. God, you’re an idiot.

You find Syd at the table, moping, head in hands. Carmen sets the box down, sitting beside her. You pat the top of her head. She silently moves one of her hands to go over yours. You nod. The silent exchange of girls who know.

“Yeah?”

She nods, grumbling. “Yeah.”

Carmen has no fucking idea what’s happening and he’s never been more intrigued by a near wordless social interaction in his entire life. What? You’re not even making eye-contact. What the fuck is happening?

You fish through the box with your free hand, grabbing a pot. You place it in front of Syd. “Look.”

She peeks through her fingers. A tiny but flourishing nursery pot of basil sits before her. You speak. “You’re gonna hyper-fixate on this basil I’m gifting you, and then you’re gonna crack back into it with the dual burner until I’m done fixing the oven.”

She nods, putting her hands in her lap, “Yes, Chef.”

You pull out a second nursery pot, setting it down for Carmen. “For you.”

“What for?”

“Basil grows like a motherfucker and it’s getting unhinged. I need to start pawning off to people that’ll make good use of it. A-K-A, chefs.” You look at Syd, pointedly, “Talented chefs.”

You hand off the heating pad— Wrapped in brown paper with a card tied to it, to Carmen. “For Nat.” You add, when he looks confused, “Can’t imagine I’ll see her sooner than you will.”

He looks even more confused, when you hand him a spray bottle full of reddish water. It’s one of the good spray bottles, too. Continuous. Carmen wouldn’t know the difference, but you do. “Rosemary. —Water, that is.”

He squints; you clarify, gesturing to your own hair. “You mentioned, losing hair, so— Thought I’d make some, with the trimmings of rosemary I had. Got ginger and cloves in it, too.”

Why have you trapped him in hell? You’ve remembered such a specific off hand from days ago and acted on it? And he can’t express the grandiose level of affection he feels right now? Are you serious? You’re the devil. You’re absolutely the devil. He just coughs out a ‘thanks’.  

“And, the pièce de résistance,” You pull out the old ass, boxed up double burner countertop stove. “A stovetop that ideally fuckin’ works. It was my single claim to fame in my college dormitory.”

Carmen’s already opening the box. Sydney smirks, curiosity peaked. “Was that legal?”

“You a fuckin’ RA?” You grin, poking her forehead. “It was not. And that’s exactly why everyone loved me— Didn’t serve them fuckin’ hot pockets.”

The configurations of Carmen’s apartment would be great for literally any occasion besides the current one. The kitchen is narrow, and so, when you pull out the stove to check the back, there’s an estimated no fucking room left for Carm and Syd, so they sit at the dinner table with your stove top. You’d think they’d look like they’re doing a cute hot pot. No. They look like two conflicted and confused twelve-year-olds working on a science project.

So do you, honestly. Wiring is definitely more your speed than plumbing, but if you’re being honest, this is the first oven you’ve worked on without your dad, and you’re having a hard time remembering everything. There’s a lot of embarrassed Googling on your phone, when you're sure they’re not looking. They can’t know you’re even slightly incompetent!

You’re pretty sure it’s just a couple damaged wires, fried from overwork— Easy fix, if you had wire. You don’t. Slightly harder fix. But soldering is your bitch really, you’re in your bag. You look stupid, wearing chunky goggles and a respirator, but you’re in your bag, baby! What’s that one saying? Skills make you hot? That’s not a saying.

But it is true. When Carmen’s able to peer into the kitchen, quickly looking over his shoulder when Syd takes a moment to write a measurement or direction down, you look stunning.  Respirator and all. You just look correct there, in the kitchen. His kitchen. So stunning he feels guilty. Do you find it annoying? Constantly fixing errors behind him? Probably. You say it’s not a lot of work, but that can’t be true.

“How’s The Bear, ‘sides menu rework?” You ask, raising your voice in the kitchen.

“S’good.” Carmen. “I’m in hell.” Syd. Not hard to tell which statue is lying, here.

Syd stutters on, “Nat’s takin’ care of baby Michaela— Which is very good and—and cool, actually.”

“But?”

“But we’re back to handling the business side entirely ourselves, for like— The next month. Maybe two? Fuck, are we doing the wedding without her?” Sydney almost burns her sauce, Carmen’s quick to move it off the burner.

He mutters, “Don’t even start to think about it. It’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna figure it out.”

“Oh yeah, wedding— Have you gotten your menu yet?” You call from the kitchen, muffled by your respirator.

“Oh my god!” Sydney exclaims, and Carmen is wincing. She can’t tell you things are going wrong; doesn’t she know that? You’ll fix it, if things are wrong. You always fix it. Fix him. You’re gonna put him in your phone as Carmy Bad News. If you haven’t already. Start a support group with Tif.

Syd continues, “They’re so fucking particular and somehow also vague—Like, ‘we want salmon and chicken’ for main course— What kind of preparation? ‘Surprise us!’ Okay, how about roasted chicken—? ‘Mmmm, no, not that’. I’ve been told ‘non quello’ at least ten times in the last four days.”

No, you’re witty. Bad News Bear. Fuck, that’s definitely his name in your phone, isn’t it?

“Fuckin’ nightmare. Y’know, I’m the only fucking bartender? For like three hundred guests? Thank God they’re not asking for a custom cocktail or anything, I’d lose my shit.”

Sydney laughs, and she steps back into her flow easily, reducing the sauce without burning it, now. She looks more serene than she has in days. What? How are you doing that? What are you doing? Are you casting a spell?

“Can you even fucking imagine what their couples’ cocktail would be?”

You groan from the kitchen, laughing in return, “Not you too, Syd! Must you make me work!?”

“C’mon maestro, make a cocktail!”

“Bleh. Uh… They give long island iced tea energy, but it’s a wedding so— Like a boozier negroni?”

“That sounds fucking disgusting.”

“I didn’t say it’d be good, I said it’d be their couples’ cocktail.” You’re both giggling, like school girls. It’s like you said— You become teens, together.

Despite the fact that Syd is making an incredibly complex dish, and you’re fixing an oven—His oven— Ridiculing the other impossible tasks set out for the both of you… Despite all of that, you’re laughing.

Carmen is, what, nearly thirty? A restaurant owner, with a full crew, who attends Al-Anon, and is only now truly registering the power of an unsolvable burden being shared. Not fixed, shared. Talking. Laughing. God, this all comes so easy to you, doesn’t it?

You finish soldering, test each burner, and the oven— All working, thank God. You quietly cheer in the kitchen, removing your respirator and goggles. “We’re good here! Fixed!”

“C’mere!” Syd calls out to you, and so you do. Eagerly. She hands you a fork. Unprompted, she does the thing. You’d missed the OG, really.

“Beef Oxtail, pressed in a Foie Gras casing, seared. Basted in a King Oyster mushroom sauce. Pureed greens on the side.”

“I never know what the fuck you’re saying.”

She pushes the side of your face with the palm of her hand. “Put it in your mouth and chew.”

You want to make some sort of kink joke, but you respect the already struggling man in the room and take a bite. Hm. Hm. You put a finger over your mouth, swallowing. “...Now it might just be my unrefined palate.”

“That’s why we have you try it.” Carmen pipes in. Syd nods, following. “It’s important to know the baseline.”

“…It’s got like,” You hand the fork to Syd so she can try it, while you think. “A bit of a bitter aftertaste? Which might be the… goal?”

Syd spits it out the second it touches her mouth, she shouts your name, your actual name— A rarity. She’s so terrified that she forgets the Walk-In bit she’s been in on all week. “I just fuckin’ poisoned you— Oh my god?! Are you good? That was— Fuck! You swallowed that?!”

She grabs your face like a concerned mother, also maybe to check if you have superpowers, you’re not sure. All you know is there’s a golden opportunity to make another sex joke and you have to hold back. Life is so unfair.

Carmen takes a quick taste, also spitting it out. “I’ve got it, Chef, don’t sweat.” Immediately looking to the drafted recipe card to see where they went wrong.

Syd almost squeezes your cheeks like a stress ball but thinks better of it, letting go, groaning, beyond frustrated at this point. “You shouldn’t have to fix it— I should fuckin’ have it, at this point.”

Carmen's trying to ignore how much he relates to the sentiment. He's not the focus, right now.

“We make mistakes, Chef—” “Syd.” You snap your fingers, pointing to her, interrupting Carmen. “Can you help me grab something, from my car? It’s kinda big.”

Carmen’s quick to chime in, already going to untie his apron, “I can—”

“No!” You look at him pointedly, trying to communicate through look alone. He kind of gets it? “It’s… Girl stuff.”

Syd squints. “You need me to help you carry a big girl thing?”

“…Are you fuckin’ helping or are you gonna poke holes?”

“What are you actually dragging me out for?”

“Technically I do actually need your help grabbing something, it’s just not a girl thing. And it's also not from my car.”

“Oh?”

You walk out of Carmen’s building with his keys, and gesture out to every apartment buildings treasure trove— The spot everyone throws their furniture when they move out and don’t know what else to do with it.

“Bookshelf!” There is actually one pristine looking bookshelf, a cheap one, definitely just something from IKEA. But it’s better than the fucking floor. “I spotted it on my way in, we’re gonna bring it up for Carm.”

She groans, hating the concept of manual labour, but still walks with you and grabs one end anyways. “Why didn’t you make Carmen carry his own bookshelf?”

“Because you need a fuckin’ pep-talk.” You pick the other end of the bookshelf up. It’s thankfully not that heavy. You walk backwards so you can keep facing Syd.

“…I don’t—” “Yes the fuck you do.”

She kisses her teeth, you frown. “What’s up, Adamu?”

“It’s just fucking annoying— I keep, I keep fucking it up. I keep—Keep—”

“Doing too much.”

She gives you a look, ‘are you serious?’, type look. You continue. “You’re doing too much. You’re not cooking like you.”

“I can cook like Michelin—”

“I never said you couldn’t. Watch your step.” You interrupt, walking over a bump in the sidewalk. “You can do star level shit, Syd. But that’s a grade, not a type.”

She kind of reels, at that. You continue, “You cook great complex dishes, you always have, I’ve tried them. But now, you’re all caught up trying to prove some shit, to Carmen, to—to— Who gives stars? The tires guy?”

She laughs, almost dropping the bookshelf. “Yeah, I’m trying to impress the tires guy.”

“Fuck you.” You snort, stepping up the stairs. “What I’m trying to say is, you should make what you want to eat, not what you think you should eat.”

She nods, you stop on top of the stairs, both taking a second to breathe. “…Thanks.”

You nod back, hands on your knees for a second before standing back up, opening the lobby door. “I’ll always be your cheerleader, Syd.”

“More like coach.”

“Can you let me have one hot girl career, please?”

When you get back up to Carmen’s, he’s already grimacing. You and Syd are split apart by the bookshelf standing between you in the hall. “Fuck is this?”

“It was free and I’ll clean it!” You press your hands together pleading. “C’mon, you can even put your jeans in it!”

“Jeans on a bookshelf?”

You turn to Syd. “Better than the oven.”

“I think he’s doing that to dry them.”

“I think it’s ‘cause he doesn’t own a dresser.”

“It’s both.” Carmen clicks his tongue, single-handedly picking up the bookshelf and carrying inside. Alright, does he need to show off this much? Whatever. It’s definitely not making you feel any type of way at all.

You squint, watching him walk further in his apartment, and then to Syd. You speak at the same time. “He stays doing too much.”

As promised, you wipe down the bookshelf, making sure it’s free of grime and roadside pests. Syd and Carmy work together in the kitchen, with a now functioning oven. You load the shelf up with the books on the floor— Thankfully they’re piled into categories already, so you don’t have to bother him about that.

You’re tempted to clean his living room, but that would probably be rude, right? Don’t want him to take it as you saying he’s a slob. But they are taking a while… Alright, you’ll just throw out trash. You won’t fold blankets or pick up dishes or anything. Just trash! No big! He can’t be mad at you for that.

You pile together the garbage, then sneakily throw it out in the kitchen trash can as fast as you can, before he looks. He’ll think he’s just sleep cleaning, or something. “How’s it goin’ in here?’

Carmen pipes up, eyes focused on the dish as Syd plates it. “Good.” Syd holds the plate in one hand, and silently corrals you with the other to sit at the table. You do. She sets it down the plate before you, handing you a fork and knife.

You look up at her expectantly. She shakes her head. “Eat first, this time.”

She looks serious, so you nod, cutting into the dish. It’s different from the last one. Instead of oxtail, it’s pastry. Or at least, a puff pastry exterior. You’re pretty sure it’s Pillsbury, you remember Carmen buying that, the other day, on your excursion.

Inside it, you believe is the beef oxtail, there’s other things, too. Some sort of sauce, some greens— Oh well, no time to bask in the cross section because Syd looks like she’s about to explode. You take a bite. You nod, chewing.

Syd starts, “Searing the duck caused the bitter taste— So instead of- Of searing the outside, I coated it in the mushroom sauce, the greens— Not pureed, this time, for texture. Your basil, too. There’s a crumble of feta, for a subtle tang. And then wrapped it all together in puff pastry, and baked. It’s sort of like, a varied take on a beef welling—”

“You made a fucking gourmet hot pocket?” You swallow, wheezing. The second you say this, Sydney’s focused face beams, laughing, like she’s just pulled off the most perfect prank of all time.

Carmen was so intrigued and focused on Sydney’s explanation, that you watering it down to hot pocket and being right makes his entire system reboot. He cannot stop smiling, aghast. He's been helping Syd make a hot pocket for the past hour?

“I told you to make what you want and—” wheeze “—you make a fucking hot pocket?!” You double down, laughing with her, she’s trying to defend herself but she can’t stop wheezing in tandem.

“I— I can’t fuckin’ stand you!” You snort, covering your face with your arm. “I hate your ass, oh my God, Syd.”

“Did—” snort “What did you think?” She recovers, slowly but surely.

You shake your head, handing her the fork. “It’s sick, Syd, obviously, it’s fucking perfect… Chef.” You tack on at the end, almost forgetting. “I’m not gonna be able to have an actual hot pocket, ever again. You’ve ruined my life.”

She takes a bite for herself, nodding. She does a small cheer, pumping her fist. “Let’s fucking go.” She points her fork at you— Purely on muscle memory, and you both instantly remember the days of her testing out recipes and you pairing them on first taste. She’d point her fork to you like a microphone. It was a fun game between two nerds.

It’s a reflex response for you, even now. “Barolo. Savory, dry, red. A young one, though. Light body. Could also do an Amarone, if you’re not buried in money.”

She hands the fork off to Carmy to try it, then writes the pairings down, mumbling, amusement still in her voice. “How the fuck do you do that?”

“I honestly don’t know. I think I have some wires crossed.”

“Fire, Chef.” Carmen swallows his bite. “We cannot call it a hot pocket on the menu.”

“Then what’s the point!?”

Leaving Carmen’s place is objectively the most awkward experience— But also the funniest. You offer to wait for Syd and drive her home— You’ll need a second to pack anyways while they make their business plans.

When you do offer, of course, Carmen stutters short, almost asking you again to sleep over or at the very least stay late, but saves it, realizing himself.

Syd accepts the ride offer. You pack up and wait for her to be done. When she is, Carmen offers to carry your things down with you both, in which Syd accuses him of thinking you’re both weaklings— He does not have a defense case for this, he has to let you go. You can tell he wants to kiss you at the door, and you do too. Sadly, you’re equally down bad, but he can’t know that…

You say your goodbyes, Syd helps you load your tools and hotplate in the trunk of your car. Your phone vibrates. Text from Mister New York.

‘Look up I’m on the balcony. 8 floors.’

You look up, sure as shit, he’s out there, cigarette in mouth. Unlit. He waves, you wave back. He texts again, in rapid succession.

‘Thank you’

‘For helping Syd’

‘And the oven and the hot plate and the bookshelf (not necessary)’

‘nbd + I think it’s v necessary’ Does Carmen understand acronyms? You’re risking it, here.

‘and cleaning my trash’ Sonofabitch.

‘ah fuck. I don’t think you’re messy!!! I just wanted to help!!!’

‘I know. You’re you. Be safe.’

Oh goddammit, stupid dry texter, saying something so gah. You jump as Syd taps the roof of your car behind you, getting your attention. Watching from a far distance, Carmen laughs, though you don’t notice it.

“Are we going?”

“Yes! Sorry!” You hurriedly pocket your phone, waving one last time as you get in your car. Syd sits beside you in shotgun, her pot of basil sat safely in her lap. You drive off.

You’re half way down the road, when Syd pipes up again. “So y’all are fucking, correct?”

You almost brake check the guy behind you.

 “How do you fuckin’ do that!?”

the opening is dedicated to my dear friend and i who have sent our wordle results to each other everyday for the past like year and a half.

Things of note, one - people usually skip the shit up top-- I made a spotify playlist! Listen if you like, I'm not your dad.

Two, I know this is a self insert right, i know what I set myself up for-- Do you know the hell i am in as a syd x carmy girl writing scenes with both of them and it NOT being them? What have I done, to myself? The only coping mechanism I have is imagining in this universe Syd is a lesbian. And that is helping.

The hot pocket recipe-- Who fucking knows, if that would taste good? I think it would? In theory? I fucked with a dish from Daniel NYC, to make it into a bit. Would it work? ....Beef wellingtons do, I can't see why this can't???? Idk man.

Rosemary water w cloves and ginger does fucking work btw. I am part of the so stressed out i lost my hair brigade. Also basil does grow like a motherfucker.

We're seein' a little bit of that tenseness that comes with being in an 'almost relationship' both of them feel like they've got something they can fuck up now. Poor birds. They'll be okay. Probably.

I'm really excited for the next chapter, I don't wanna give shit away, but it's gonna be,,,,,, different. I haven't seen anyone try this kinda formatting on tumblr before, and I'm excited to see what you think. Between my moving and how complex the choreography of it is gonna be, it's gonna be a much longer minute between this chapter and the next, I fear. But listen, you already knew your ass was gettin' spoiled with a chapter every two days. Hehe.

As always, please come yap to me in the replies/inbox/dms/reblogs. I love to hear thoughts!! It sustains me, baby!!

Next Part

[loversatthegreatdivide]

Heavy Lies the Heart - Chapter 1

Masterlist // Continue Reading

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!OC Word Count: 2k Tropes: mutual pining, fluff, angst with a happy ending, royalty Warnings: death Summary: When two second-borns looking for direction meet by chance, can they find purpose in each other? Or will circumstance keep them apart? A/N: This starts at the beginning of season 3, but some timeline things are a bit different here than in the series. Also I'm changing history--it's fine, it's basically in an alternate universe anyway.

A new season had begun, and it was with an all too familiar sense of annoyance that Benedict Bridgerton found himself arriving once again at the Danbury ball. If not for his mother's insistence and his desire to support Francesca in her first season out, he may not have come at all.

Benedict certainly had no desire to join the mart, and he found society and it's rules disingenuous at best, insufferable at worst. It was another season. Another ball. Another night of counting down the minutes while avoiding the attentions of the more emboldened debutantes and their scheming mamas.

Then again, what else had he to do? With his exit from the academy and Anthony's return, he felt rather unmoored. Adrift with no real purpose or goal. A second son with no role to fill or any steadfast ambitions. Even his younger brother Colin seemed to have truly found himself in his time abroad.

What would it take for Benedict to feel so secure?

The ball had barely begun, yet already Benedict found himself hounded by the attentions of the young ladies of the marriage mart. He suspected this was due, in no small part, to the transformation of his younger brother. Colin seemed to rather enjoy the attention, but Benedict found he did not feel the same. At the first opportunity, he made a quick exit, escaping to the safety of the garden. He stood alone, close enough to hear the music inside but far enough to feel the weight of expectation lift. He took in a deep breath of the crisp night air, and sighed in relief.

As he enjoyed his moment of peace, he heard a commotion from inside. Given the excitement, he could only imagine that the queen was finally in attendance. Always the most anticipated guest, yet always the last to arrive. He thought to avoid the fanfare, sipping the lemonade in his hand as he enjoyed the night's sky.

Benedict spend some time just appreciating the silence, but knew he would have to return soon. With things inside having quieted somewhat, he supposed it was as good of a time as any. He was also aware that certain members of his family would likely be cross with him if he disappeared for too long. He sighed, downing the last of his drink before turning to enter the fray once more.

He set his empty glass on a nearby table as he ventured through the crowd. He looked across the room, making eye contact with both Anthony and his mother. At the very least they would know he hadn't fled the grounds altogether.

He scanned the crowd, thinking he ought to at least check in on his three remaining siblings. Instead, his eyes landed on a young woman.

She was lovely.

Her golden hair was tied up simply, with a few stray curls falling to frame a heart shaped face. Brown eyes sat below worried, upturned brows as her full, rosy lips held a nervous smile.

She stood in a crowd of young men, the lot gathering around her like circling wolves as they vied for the attentions of their pray. The young woman looked anxious as she attempted to hold fast to decorum, her smile wavered but never completely disappeared. Benedict thought perhaps he should rescue the poor girl, but as more stragglers joined the crowd, he wondered if he even could.

Before making up his mind, he saw her address the crowd with a quick word, before turning and, as swiftly as was proper, escaping into a group of debutantes. The men seem to argue with each other as they each tried to follow. But by the time they turned to do so, they had already lost sight of her.

But Benedict hadn't, his gaze following her as she weaved her way through the crowds.

She smoothly slipped between different clusters of people, clearly trying to avoid anyone's notice. Many did catch sight of her, but she quickly moved on before they could entrap her in a conversation. Soon she made it to the wall, which she followed until she had disappeared into the same door Benedict had only just entered from. It seemed he wasn't the only one who desired the calm of the garden.

He debated for a moment if he should follow. She was clearly overwhelmed, and likely didn't want another man pestering her--not to mention unchaperoned. He came up with a few shaky reasons that were in favor of it, but he knew they weren't honest ones. In truth, it was simply that his curiosity had been peaked, and he was attempting to rationalize why it was that he should follow.

Curiosity won out in the end, and Benedict once again made his way back out into the night.

He saw her sitting on a stone bench near the door, her lilac dress flowing out around her. It wasn't one that ladies would consider currently in fashion; having an hourglass shape and a full skirt rather than the more simple, straight shape of the dresses most of the ladies inside were wearing. Still, he thought it quite suited her.

She looked as if she had lept from the frame of a painting. Her face draped in moonlight as she stared up at the sky. A tear slid down her cheek, sparkling in the pale light, and Benedict suddenly felt quite ashamed of himself. He realized he had been selfish, planning to disturb the time she clearly needed to herself. He turned, intent to leave her to her thoughts. However, the scuff of his shoes was enough to get her attention and she turned suddenly. Her eyes caught his, and for a moment he stood frozen in her gaze.

Finally, he came to his senses and addressed her, his tone apologetic.

"Forgive me, miss. I did not mean to disturb you," he said quickly. She looked confused, but soon composed herself as she turned to wipe the tears from her face.

"No need to apologize sir," she began, turning to face him with a small, reassuring smile, "I was just getting some air."

Benedict took a few, small steps forward. He waited for her to object, but when she said nothing he took a few steps more. They were shoulder to shoulder, though he left a healthy amount of space between them.

"It's all rather stifling, isn't it?" he asked. He returned her smile, and she quickly turned her gaze down, running a gloved finger over the embroidered vines that decorated the bottom of her dress.

"Certainly more so than I had expected."

"Am I correct in thinking this is your first year? I don’t recall seeing you at one of these," he gestured vaguely at the manor, "before."

She looked back up at him, searching his face for a moment. Whatever she was looking for, she apparently found it. She smiled with a degree more enthusiasm.

"That's quite a skill, recalling the face of every young lady to grace such a grand event," she joked.

"I could say it was well practiced, but the truth is I would simply be unable to forget a face as lovely as yours," he replied. He could see her cheeks flush through the cool moonlight illuminating her face.

"You give compliments with such ease. Is that skill also well practiced?" she asked as she began to regain her composure.

"I may be prone to the occasional bit of flattery, but in this case I am quite sincere." She looked away in clear embarrassment, and Benedict had to look down briefly to hide the grin forming on his face. "But I have made you uncomfortable, forgive me; I shall say no more about it." Her eyes moved back to him, "I certainly wouldn't blame you for being apprehensive under such circumstances--given what I saw in the ballroom, I imagine you've had quite enough of men and their compliments."

She looked back up at him, "You mean those gentlemen who were speaking to me earlier?"

"The same. They all seemed rather...frenzied to gain your favor."

"Yes, I suppose," she agreed, looking forlorn, "though I believe their intentions were quite different than yours."

Benedict raised an eyebrow, "Oh?" He thought a moment, "If it was not your looks that drew them, was it perhaps the allure of a large dowry? Or possibly some grand title to be inherited?" She actually laughed at that, albeit more to herself than as a sign of amusement.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that," she agreed, "though they may be disappointed; they would certainly be settling for second best. It is my elder sister's family who will inevitably inherit my father's title, and sadly for those gentlemen she has already married."

Benedict was quiet for a moment, looking over her self-effacing expression with understanding and, in spite of himself, a measured degree of affection.

He smirked, "I thought there must be some reason we get on so well; I myself happen to be a second son. Maddening, isn't it? Always feeling like the spare?"

She looked at him in surprise, before relaxing into a grateful smile.

"It certainly can be," she agreed. She hesitated a moment, before deciding to continue, "I often feel as if I don't know what to do with myself. I have always existed to be my sister's replacement, should the worst happen. Now that she is married and with child, a replacement is no longer needed. So what am I, now that I'm no longer what I was born to be?"

Benedict had to think on that for a moment. He was hardly one to advise someone in the exact predicament he found himself in. Still, he hoped he could give her some degree of comfort.

"You're free," he finally answered. She looked up at him, her eyes locking with his. They stared at each other for a long, quiet moment until at last she looked away.

"If only that were true," she said softly to herself.

At that moment, the sounds from inside grew louder. The young woman looked back into the light of the ballroom. She sighed, then looked at him with a soft smile.

"I suppose I should return; I'm sure at this point I'm quite missed," she stood, smoothing out the silken fabric of her dress. "It was a pleasure to meet you, mister…?"

"Benedict. Benedict Bridgerton," he said, bowing gracefully.

"Mister Bridgerton," she repeated, "Well Mister Bridgerton, I do look forward to speaking with you again sometime."

With that she made her way towards the door. Just as she reached the threshold, she stopped. She quickly turned back to him, "Oh, and perhaps you should wait before returning indoors--it would be unfortunate if anyone came to the wrong conclusion."

She was certainly right about that. As she turned back, a sudden thought occurred to him.

"Wait a moment--" Benedict called out suddenly, his hand raised to stop her. But it was too late, she had already disappeared into the warm light of the ballroom. "--what's your name?" He asked to no one, sighing as he turned.

He wandered over and sat on the bench she had been on only moments before. Resting his palms on the cool stone and leaning back on his arms, he couldn't help but grin. He turned his face up to the moon, hoping to meet the curious young woman again soon.

---

Benedict eventually made his way inside, thinking more than enough time had past. As he walk through the ballroom, he searched the crowd. With her nowhere in sight, he accepted that she had already gone. With nothing else to keep his interest, he eventually wandered over to where his mother, Anthony, and Kate stood.

"And just where were you?" Violet asked, annoyance clear in her voice.

"We were quite sure you had run off," Anthony added, smirking. Benedict smiled, turning his face out to the dance floor.

"Not at all brother--I was simply enjoying the ball," he replied. Anthony and his mother shared a perplexed look, but Benedict didn't notice. His thoughts were otherwise occupied.

---

The young woman took the gloved hand that was offered as she carefully stepped into the opulent, golden carriage. She delicately adjusted her skirts as the queen looked her over.

"So Beatrice, tell me--did you enjoy the ball? Was it everything you had imagined?" The queen asked, amused.

"It was certainly different than what I had expected--but I did enjoy it very much," the young woman smiled, looking back at the queen, "Thank you for agreeing to bring me along, grandmama."